#was freaking surreal and bizarre

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

237. Candy Cane Lane (2023)

[sasoarts]

Just a weird algorithm thing to get more people to find me:

World building

Borderlings

Monsters

Surreal

Fantasy

Horror

Psychological

Body horror

Abstract

Eldritch

Lynchian

Lovecraftian

Ghosts

Spirits

Angels

Demons

Metamorphosis

Transformation

Mutants

Freaks

Trippy

Weird

Magic

Whimsical

Odd

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟎𝟐. 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

"O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!" — William Shakespeare, via Hamlet Act 2, Scene 2

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 7k

pairing— cruel!dom!gn!reader x true form!sub!sukuna

cws/tags— painplay, cbt (ball busting), doubled dicked sukuna, S&M, dumbification, humiliation, subspace, heavy degradation, size kink, voice kink, mutual masturbation, reader is AFAB, handjob, edging, overstimulation, dacryphilia, petnames: for reader “fool” & “brat” + for sukuna “slut” & “loser” & “freak” & “sicko”, porn w/ crack fic plot

Sukuna’s domain was far from inviting, a stark contrast to anything one might deem ‘homey’.

As you surveyed the colossal cavern, its vastness resembling that of a grand cathedral, the support structure caught your eye—towering bone columns replaced the conventional pillars. The entire space, from the ground up to the ceiling, was a macabre creation of bones. The ceiling itself resembled a grotesquely cracked ribcage, a grim reminder of its origins. While some bones were discernibly human, others appeared to belong to unknown and enigmatic creatures, transcending the boundaries of what you had ever witnessed before. The bizarre collection of bones lent an exceptionally eerie ambience, heightened by a peculiar, reddish glow emanating from an indiscernible light source. 

At the heart of this bone-laden spectacle stood a towering monument, a colossal mound of bones sculpted into a surreal structure. Ascending the mound was a staircase fashioned from bones, leading to a throne unlike any other—an imposing seat, constructed entirely from an assembly of human remains, awaited at the pinnacle.

Perched upon that ominous throne was Sukuna, the embodiment of malevolence—the King of Curses—displaying his intimidating presence in all its grim grandeur. Even from your vantage point, peering up at him from a considerable distance, he appeared colossal. His physique was a testament to sheer power and artistry, meticulously sculpted and adorned with bulging muscles that defied belief. Four massive, sinewy arms extended from his formidable frame, possessing an awe-inspiring strength capable of pulverising titanium into mere dust with a mere flex of their might.

It’s a shame you weren’t a sorcerer who knew what and who he was.

Summoning your courage, you cleared your throat and shouted up to him, the question cutting through the eerie atmosphere, “Where am I and who the fuck are you?”

Sukuna’s laughter, a deep and menacing boom, resonated through the expansive domain, causing the very walls to tremble and the unsettling echoes to pierce your soul.

"Ignorant fool," he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You dare address me in such a manner?"

You winced, hastily clapping your hands over your ears. "Could you please lower your volume?"

His laughter, a bone-chilling symphony, echoed once more, causing the ground to quiver. "Is this too much for your feeble mortal ears? Come and face me."

His words felt like an intrusive melody, echoing in your mind, a haunting tune you wished to escape.

Surveying the daunting mountain of bones and the seemingly endless staircase leading to his throne, you hesitated. "Uh, no thanks. It's quite a lengthy walk."

Your ears strained as Sukuna mumbled something indecipherable. There was a pause.

"Come and face me!" he thundered suddenly.

"What did I say about the volume?" you snapped.

"Face me!"

"Lower your voice!"

"Come and face me-"

"Can you just tell me where I am!" you yelled back, frustration boiling over.

A groan escaped your lips as you walked towards the edge of the bone mountain, adamant about not getting any closer or ascending those foreboding stairs. Rolling your eyes, you lashed out, sending a nearby skull skittering across the cavernous expanse, its hollow clatter echoing off the walls as it bounced and rolled.

Surveying your surroundings, you tried to fathom where you were and who this exceptionally bossy man-thing-monster could be.

It felt like mere moments ago you were in the familiarity of your home, and then, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself in this eerie place.

Curiosity mingled with the morbid as you picked up a human skull, studying it intently. Before you could react, Sukuna materialised beside you, his massive clawed hands snatching the skull from your grasp. His cold, calculating gaze bore into you, accentuated by a sly grin that danced across his face.

"Mine," he growled possessively.

Startled, you instinctively recoiled from his sudden presence. "Fucking hell! You almost gave me a heart attack."

He prepared to unleash another booming laugh, but the sight of your unimpressed expression made him hesitate, his smug demeanour faltering momentarily.

Clearing his throat, he began, "You, little human, find yourself within my domain."

You snorted, glancing around the eerie expanse once more. "Right. Perfect. Fantastic. That just clears it all up, then."

"I am Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, the mightiest sorcerer of the Heian era, and soon to be your adversary," he declared.

"Oh, joy.”

You took a cautious step back, hands on your hips as you observed Sukuna's monstrous presence from this closer vantage point. His colossal, imposing form bore an unexpected juxtaposition of delicate black line tattoos, intricately strewn across his muscled physique. On each of his four wrists and biceps, ominous black rings encircled the powerful limbs, adding to the aura of menace.

Sukuna's facial features were strikingly sharp and angular, marked by prominent cheekbones and a menacing, chiselled jawline. His teeth gleamed razor-sharp, exposed in a malicious grin that laid bare his brutal nature. One half of his face retained a more distinguishable humanoid appearance, while the other bore a chaotic tapestry of marred skin resembling the gnarled bark of an ancient, scarred tree. His hands and fingers culminated in sharp black claws, a testament to his deadly prowess.

Atop his head, Sukuna wore a sinister crown of twisted, horn-like protrusions, accentuating his demonic countenance. These menacing horns symbolised his dominion over curses, solidifying his reign as the dreaded King of Curses—or so you guessed.

You whistled, gesturing toward his crown. "Seems a bit on the nose, doesn't it?"

Sukuna laughed, a deep and rich sound that carried a hint of warmth compared to his earlier booming demeanour. "It does the job, brat."

Rolling your eyes, you strolled away from him, your curiosity now fixated on the mountain of bones, which you began to inspect more closely, prodding them with the toe of your shoe. "So, why am I here, exactly?"

"I summoned you," Sukuna replied.

"Right. Why me?"

Sukuna chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself. Any human would have sufficed, it just happened to be you."

You let out a heavy sigh. "Were you bored or something?"

Sukuna's multiple scarlet eyes flickered with curiosity, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Indeed, I was."

"It's a bit... How should I put this?" you mused, glancing from the bones comprising his throne to those forming the ceiling and scattered across the ground. "It's a tad grim in here."

Sukuna suppressed a laugh, glancing at the skull in his hand that he had snatched from you earlier, rolling it between two of his hands before effortlessly crushing it to dust, akin to an aluminium can. "I don't see an issue with it."

"I imagine you quite like it... These aren't just your Halloween decorations, are they?" you remarked dryly.

"These are my trophies," Sukuna boasted.

 "Of course they are," you snorted. “You couldn’t have gone for Jack-O-lanterns? Black cats? Maybe a ghost or two? Or, I guess you have that covered… Thoughts?”

Sukuna's scowl deepened as he admonished you, "You should show more respect, human. I could kill you."

Undeterred, you crouched down and sifted through the masses of bones from the mountain, selecting another human skull. "So could most things."

"I beg your pardon—"

"Then beg. So could most things," you reiterated, standing up and inspecting the skull in your hands.

You began your ascent up the mountain of skulls, following the staircase that led to Sukuna's throne. Oblivious to Sukuna's growing bemusement and irritation, you oh-so-casually handled the human remains, displaying a level of disrespect that both puzzled and irked him. He couldn't fathom why he hadn't ended you like he had done with countless others. What was it about you that piqued his interest?

In a trance-like state, Sukuna remained fixated on you, watching intently as you climbed the staircase. Every detail about you seemed to captivate him, from the count of individual hairs on your head to the rhythm of your breaths, even the lingering scent of shampoo that trailed in your wake—the scent he inhaled hungrily.

The bones of the staircase crunched under your shoes as you ascended, the sound echoing through the cavern. However, you paid it no mind, your determination driving you forward.

A light chuckle escaped Sukuna's lips as he observed you casually taking a seat on his formidable throne. The audacity and nonchalance you displayed amused him greatly. Your courage was evident, and it only added to your intrigue. He wondered if this confidence extended to various other aspects of your life…

Languidly sprawled across his throne, you directed your attention to the aged, cracked skull in your hand, and spoke:

"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow

Of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy."

"Why are you reciting Shakespeare? Just to annoy me or because I'm the only one you can talk to, since the others are dead?" he remarked.

Sukuna leisurely ascended the steps, watching you with an intrigued expression.

You let out a sigh and casually tossed the skull over your shoulder, the clattering sound echoing as it rolled down the mountain of bones. "What else am I supposed to do here? It's awfully dull, isn't it?"

Sukuna tilted his head, scowling deeply as he stalked closer. Was this human calling his domain dull? He felt something stir within him...

"I'll have you know," he retorted, "I work diligently to maintain this domain."

"By collecting skeletons and sitting on your ass all day?" you snickered, unimpressed.

"That... That isn't all that I do," Sukuna defended, his arms crossed, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't shake off the annoyance of you finding his domain unimpressive.

"I had to defeat plenty of foes to obtain these skulls and bones. I've worked tirelessly for this throne," he asserted.

You sighed as you stretched out lazily on his throne, making yourself at home. "I'll give you that. It's a comfortable seat."

Annoyance surged within Sukuna. How dare you touch his throne, let alone stretch out on it? You were blatantly taunting him with your actions, and he couldn't stand for it. His lip curled in a manner it never had before, his face twisted in evident disgust as he approached you, extending his clawed hands, pointing and clicking with a sinister smirk.

"Move."

You kissed your teeth, a sardonic expression on your face. "Where are your manners? Say please."

Sukuna froze, caught off guard by your audacious response. Did you just instruct him to say please? Did you dare to instruct the King of Curses? His eyes widened in disbelief, grappling with your boldness. He couldn't decipher if this was pure defiance or merely a game to toy with him. Regardless, he found your tone intriguing—albeit unsettling.

You arched an eyebrow, a lazy grin playing at the corners of your lips.

Unaccustomed to such defiance, Sukuna felt a mix of surprise and annoyance. No one had ever dared to challenge him like this. He stared at you, his cold and calculating demeanour returning to his face.

"Move, fool!" he thundered, his voice resonating through the cavern, causing bones to tremble beneath and around you.

“Say please.”

Sukuna's unmarred eyes twitched with a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement. He knew he shouldn't be enjoying this, but he found himself strangely drawn to your unyielding nature.

"Please move out of my throne. Now," he growled, struggling to maintain his composure.

You responded with a hum, your smile curiously enchanting. "Get on your knees and say it."

Sukuna was stunned, his disbelief evident. You were undoubtedly toying with him. He couldn't believe how this exchange was making him feel, his heart quickening and an unfamiliar warmth tingling in his cheeks.

For a moment, he hesitated, then, with a smirk that couldn't be suppressed, he lowered himself to his knees before you. His gaze remained locked on you as you continued to lounge in his throne—like it was made for you.

"Now say please. Say it like you mean it," you persisted.

Sukuna rolled his eyes and reluctantly obliged, allowing a flicker of annoyance to colour his voice. "Please. Move out of my throne."

The smirk on his face undermined the attempt to convey genuine sincerity.

Your eyes narrowed, determined. “Like you mean it.”

He grunted, attempting to strike a balance between irritation and compliance. "Please. Move out of my throne."

There was a faint trace of politeness in his tone, but the insincerity was evident. The reason behind your insistence puzzled him. He couldn't comprehend why you were fixated on this request.

"Why are you being so persistent?"

"Shut up. Don't question me. Say please."

He scoffed, feigning annoyance. "Fine, fine, fine."

Though the act didn't genuinely bother him, Sukuna was growing increasingly intrigued about the reason behind your persistence. He had a sneaking suspicion that your desire for him to say "please" went beyond just his tone. This conversation was taking an unexpected turn, one he hadn't anticipated.

"Won’t you please move out of my throne?" he asked, this time with genuine sincerity laced into his words.

"Keep saying please," you grinned mischievously at him, eyes alight with amusement.

This was spiralling into uncharted territory. Sukuna could feel the warmth creeping up his cheeks as he realised what you were trying to make him do. Despite the unexpected turn of events, he found himself oddly willing to comply, feeling a strange sense of euphoria from the experience.

"Please. Please move-"

"No, no. Just say 'please'. Just that. Keep saying it," you drawled.

Sukuna was momentarily left speechless, captivated by the peculiar request. The amusement in the situation wasn't lost on him, and he found himself enjoying this unexpected exchange.

"Please…!"

He began to repeat the word, his voice growing louder and more resolute with each iteration. The cavern echoed with the booming sound, filled with an unusual conviction. Throughout the exchange, his eyes remained locked onto yours, fixated on something he had never known he could feel—curiosity and a touch of vulnerability.

"That's better," you gently interrupted, your voice inviting softness.

Sukuna paused, considering you. It seemed you wanted him to alter not just his words, but also his demeanour—to become soft and sweet, a far cry from his usual cold, commanding self. He cleared his throat and spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Please..."

His voice, now gentle and honey-like, carried a richness and warmth that sharply contrasted with his typical cold and authoritative tone. He spoke with an awkward tenderness, like his vocal chords had not been designed for it.

Your eyes sparkled with approval. "Good... Keep saying it like that." 

Surprised by your approval, Sukuna found himself unexpectedly pleased with how this situation had evolved. The King of Curses adjusted his posture as he knelt before you, accommodating his massive frame for a more comfortable position.

Continuing to repeat the word in that soft, sweet tone, thoroughly enthralled by the unusual turn of events. He couldn't help but wonder why he felt so oddly giddy. This exchange was intriguing, and he found your request strangely alluring.

You hummed thoughtfully and shifted your sitting position on his throne, adjusting to your comfort. A subtle, anticipatory tension hung in the air as you rubbed your thighs together, biting your bottom lip, your gaze fixed on him as he knelt and spoke in that gentle, pleading tone. Sukuna couldn't deny the unique excitement that surged within him.

Sukuna couldn't help but notice the seductive movements of your body, a provocative display that stirred a new sensation within him. He gulped nervously, feeling a newfound exhilaration as he continued to utter that soft word:

"Please... Please... Please…"

The way you looked down at him, your gaze ravenous and hungry, sent shivers down his spine. It was a gaze that suggested desire, an eagerness to consume him whole. Sukuna was gradually comprehending the appeal of this scenario and the feelings it evoked—feelings he had never experienced before.

He found himself oddly pleased by the way you stared at him, as if he were your prey. The sensation was foreign but undeniably enticing. He couldn't quite grasp why this was turning him on, if that was indeed what he was feeling. It was an uncharted territory for him, and you were leading him into the depths of this unexplored realm.

Your face lit up with amusement, and your legs rubbed together in a teasing motion. It was evident that you were toying with him, revelling in the effect you were having on him. Sukuna felt the flush of heat creeping up his neck, a telltale sign of his growing arousal. This was a sensation he had never associated with himself, yet it was undeniable—he was beginning to enjoy this, a lot.

The King of Curses continued to plead sweetly, a rush of euphoria surging through him, a tempest of desires that he was just beginning to grasp.

You tugged at your clothes and spread your legs, exposing yourself to him as you sat on his throne. You licked your fingers and dipped them between your thighs, rubbing yourself as you listened to him begging.

All his eyes were glued to the way your fingers teased your cunt, tracing its perimeter but never quite touching yourself were he would have touch you. If it were him, he would have buried his face between your legs, not teasing, but devouring. He licked his lips, zoning in on the slick of your arousal that glisted on your folds—meaning that him begging had turned you on, maybe even more than it did him. So, that was your game, was it?

The audacity of your actions left Sukuna in a state of disbelief. The line between desire and humiliation blurred as you pushed the boundaries, challenging his self-control. It was an internal struggle for Sukuna—his centuries-old pride warring with this intoxicating, uncharted desire.

He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he grappled with the unexpected arousal that coursed through his veins. The sight of you, unabashed and bold, combined with the teasing laughter in your voice, fueled the flames of his arousal.

His voice, hoarse and shaky, struggled to keep up with the torrent of emotions. The word "please" fell from his lips in a desperate plea, almost a mantra, amplifying the tension in the room.

"Sukuna, you're hard as a rock," you pointed out, the truth of your words ringing through the air.

Your laughter, rich and playful, reverberated through the chamber, filling the room with an infectious energy. It was a stark contrast to the typically stoic and fearsome King of Curses. Sukuna couldn't help but feel a surge of humiliation mixed with fascination at his own arousal.

With your teasing remark, Sukuna's gaze reluctantly shifted downward, his eyes widening as he acknowledged the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Under the baggy cloth of his trousers, he was indeed hard as a rock, a physical response to the alluring power you held over him. He could feel both of his cocks throbbing with heat, twitching in their confines. The arousal was a foreign sensation, and the fact that you were the cause of it left him both bewildered and intrigued.

In this moment, Sukuna found himself ensnared in a paradox—humiliated by his vulnerability yet undeniably enticed by the forbidden, his instincts torn between the desire to assert his dominance and the intoxicating allure of surrendering to this new experience—to surrendering to you.

He had never felt so vulnerable, so at the mercy of his own desires.

The small, involuntary moan that escaped his lips startled him, a clear indicator of just how much you had unravelled him. How embarrassing.

His voice, once firm and commanding, now wavered with need and desperation as he continued to plead. The word "please" took on a new tone, a raw and needy edge. He was no longer the dominant King of Curses; he was a man lost.

Despite this vulnerability, Sukuna couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of the moment. He wanted to hold onto this feeling, this new vulnerability that both embarrassed and enticed him. It was a struggle to admit that he craved this, that he wanted more, that he wanted you to keep pushing him into this unexplored realm. The word "please" became a whisper, an admission of his desire, a plea for the unknown to continue.

"Hey, Sukuna? Why don't you touch yourself, hm?" you mused in a breathy voice.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me. Do as you're told."

Sukuna's breath hitched at your words, the unexpected request sending a surge of heat through his veins. It was a daring proposition, one that caught him off guard, yet the enticing tone of your voice pushed his desire higher. He was torn between the embarrassment of this unfamiliar vulnerability and the overpowering need to submit to your words.

He hesitated, struggling to reconcile his pride with the intoxicating allure of your command. Touching himself was an act he had never considered, a realm he had never ventured into. But the pull of your dominance was too strong to resist.

Summoning his willpower, he shifted slightly, his hands inching towards himself. The air was charged with anticipation as he grappled with the embarrassment and excitement that warred within him. He swallowed hard.

"Say please," he challenged.

Sukuna's challenge was met with amusement in your eyes, your laughter echoing through the chamber. He couldn't help but feel a rush of frustration and fascination at your commanding presence. How had a mere human managed to exert such control over the King of Curses?

"Oh, come on. Look at yourself. I'm sitting on your throne getting off with you kneeling before me, begging. Do as you're told."

Your words, dripping with confidence and authority, sent a surge of heat to his cheeks. His own pride clashed with the intoxicating allure of your dominance. The way you spoke to him, the way you commanded him—it was undeniably hot, a sensation he was both frustrated and intrigued by.

The word "please" left his lips almost like a whine, a testament to the power you held over him. His gaze remained locked on yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration, vulnerability, and longing. You were indeed torturing him.

"Be good for me, and touch yourself,” you said in a dangerous whisper as you rubbed yourself. 

You dipped a finger inside yourself and moaned, a lazy smile on your face. You bucked into your hand as you touched yourself on his throne, putting on a show for him. His mouth watered as he pictured how it must feel inside you—slick and warm and tight—and God, what he wouldn’t give to feel it for himself.

Sukuna was both infuriated and captivated by your brazen display The way you moaned and smiled lazily, openly touching yourself, was a challenge to his self-control. But he was compelled to obey, to succumb to your desires and the intoxicating dominance you wielded.

He followed your command, tugging down his trousers and exposing himself to your gaze. His hands, large and powerful, hesitantly moved to touch himself, fingers grazing over his arousal.

His huge, domineering hands wrapped around his cocks, stroking the lengths of them and he gasped. Why was this more intense than any battle? A better thrill than killing? He bit hit lip, eyes drawn to and fascinated by his own body’s reaction to you and how milky white pre drooled down from his slits. How, with every stroke of his hands, his back archer and he bucked into his own touch.

His eyes fluttered shut as he grappled with this new experience, letting himself be consumed by the heady mix of desire and submission. The act was both mortifying and exhilarating, and all the while, he was acutely aware of your eyes on him, your presence commanding and beguiling.

He couldn't believe that all of this was coming from your voice. His eyes were glued to between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued to touch himself. Your own hungry eyes latched onto both of his huge, aching dicks as he played with himself. Everything about Sukuna was overwhelming, from his power to his body to his lust. You found yourself admitting to your own curiosity as you drank in the sight of them; The sight of them dripping and flushed and how almost swollen his balls looked with cum that hand’t been released.

Your moans and groans seemed to echo in unison, creating a symphony of desire that filled the chamber. Sukuna was increasingly lost in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through him. The word "please" left his lips in a chorus of longing, each repetition pushing him deeper into submission.

His focus had shifted entirely, the initial intent of getting you off his throne fading into obscurity. His gaze remained fixed on your intimate display, his arousal building with every touch and sound that emanated from both of you. The control you held over him was both infuriating and irresistible, a feeling he couldn't quite comprehend but was unwilling to resist. As the moments passed, he found himself yearning for more, wanting this sensation to continue, to deepen, to consume him entirely.

The clash between his innate desire for power and this newfound intoxicating submission was tearing at the fabric of his being. The strength he prided himself on was now overshadowed by a longing to surrender to your every command.

Your moans were like a siren's call, drawing him deeper into the realm of obedience and desire. He felt a vulnerability he had never known, as if his very essence was being reshaped. He wanted to rebel, to assert his dominance, but your dominion over him was undeniable. Each moan you released seemed to pierce through his defences, leaving him trembling and on the verge of shattering—a cold bullet to his cursed, beating heart.

His breath was uneven, his voice cracking with need as he continued to repeat the word "please". It was a punishment he secretly craved, an experience that left him teetering on the edge, yearning for more of this torment.

"You should see yourself, Sukuna. Kneeling before me and touching yourself so desperately... Poor thing. I almost feel bad for you," you moaned.

Your words washed over Sukuna like a tidal wave, a symphony of desire and humiliation that left him gasping for breath. The sharp pain in his chest only served to intensify the sensations that coursed through him. The way you continued to toy with him, to humiliate him, sent shivers of both pleasure and torment down his spine. It left him feeling both broken and intoxicated, aching for the next command, the next word that would bind him even further to your will.

"Go on. Tell me how pathetic you are."

The admission felt like a double-edged sword, cutting through Sukuna's pride and ego, yet at the same time igniting a fire within him. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and he was both repelled and drawn to this feeling. His voice trembled with shame and arousal as he echoed the words you demanded of him.

"I'm pathetic... You're so much better than me... I'm so pathetic..."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his humiliation. He was laying bare his weaknesses, succumbing to the reality of his own desires. Each syllable was a confession that he wanted more, even if it hurt.

You laughed at him. "Aw, I bet you wish I was touching you, hm?"

The shame was palpable, like a physical weight on his shoulders. Each word was like a punch to his ego, yet he couldn't stop himself.

"I wish you were touching me… Yes… I'm that pathetic…"

His admission was barely a whisper, laced with both humiliation and a strange sense of longing. He wanted to resist, to regain control, but it was slipping through his fingers like sand. The battle between his pride and desire raged within him, and right now, desire was winning. The shame was a peculiar thrill.

"I bet you want me to touch so badly that you don't even care if it hurts, right?"

It was an unfamiliar yearning for pain. He had spent centuries as a powerful being, feared and revered, but now he was willingly surrendering to a mere human.

"Yes... I don't care if it hurts. Please... Please hurt me..."

You gracefully rose from his throne, fingers languidly snapping in front of Sukuna's face, a signal for him to rise to his feet. He complied with your command, a sudden flood of emotions rushing through his body. Every nerve seemed to tremble with a blend of obedience and desire, eagerly awaiting your touch.

As you stepped closer, your hands gently found their place on his chest, tracing the contours of his overpowering muscles. "D'you like that?" you murmured softly, your words a tender caress.

His breath hitched, caught in his throat, eyes locked onto yours as your fingers danced across his chest. His muscles quivered in response to your gentle exploration, every moment an intoxicating revelation. Your touch, so light yet electrifying, made him acutely aware of his own body. The tingling sensation of your fingers on his skin sent shivers down his spine, making his breath hitch.

"Y-Yes... I do. It feels... Exquisite," he managed to stammer, his voice cracking under the weight of your gaze.

"You're so sensitive," you observed, your touch leaving a trail of fire wherever your fingers danced. "I wonder how you'd react if I hurt you," you whispered, your voice laced with a mix of curiosity and a dark sort of delight. "Would you still be begging for it?"

His pride warred with his newfound craving, but the latter was undeniable. "Please... I want more," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He was at your mercy, a feeling that both terrified and thrilled him.

Without hesitation, you kneed him in the crotch, hitting both of his cocks square on.

It was an instantaneous, electric shock of agony that seared through his nerves, leaving him momentarily paralyzed as the intensity of the pain overwhelms his senses. He dropped to his knees with a thump, gasping.

The pain was sharp and stabbing, radiating from the point of impact like a wildfire. As if every nerve ending in the area was set ablaze, sending distress signals to his brain at an alarming speed. Sukuna’s body instinctively recoiled, attempting to protect the vulnerable region, but the pain persisted, gnawing at his insides. The pain didn't limit itself to the immediate area of impact; it radiated outward, affecting his entire abdomen, lower back, and even his thighs.

With each passing second, the pain intensified, reaching a peak where it feels like an all-consuming force, making it difficult to focus on anything else. Breathing becomes shallow and laboured, and waves of nausea washing over him, threatening to push him to the edge of consciousness.

His entire existence was shattered because of you.

"P-Please stop…!"

Sukuna writhed in agony. The once-proud King of Curses now knelt before you, completely vulnerable and at your mercy. His pleas for you to stop were desperate, and he trembled with the intensity of the pain that coursed through his body.

But you weren't done. You wanted to test the limits of his submission, to see just how far he would go for this new, twisted pleasure that bound him to you. Your hand reached out, fingers gently tracing the lines of his face before cupping his chin, forcing him to look up at you.

You laughed at Sukuna and placed your foot on his shoulder, pushing him down so he was laying flat on his back. Sukuna had never imagined he would be brought to such a state, submitting to the will of a human. He was at your mercy, and you were showing him no mercy at all. The proud King of Curses had been reduced to a whimpering, pained creature under your command.

He could only look up at you with desperate eyes, unable to fight back or retaliate. The pain was excruciating, and all he wanted was for it to end.

Tears welled in his eyes, a mixture of both pain and humiliation. "Please... I'm sorry... Please, have mercy..." he choked out, his voice barely audible through the suffering.

As the pain continued, he was losing his mind. He couldn't understand how he had let things go this far. He was so embarrassed by the fact that he asked you to hurt him. He didn't want to feel the pain anymore. He wanted to please you, but at what cost?

"P-please! I want it to stop…!"

"No, you don't. You're sick and disgusting, and you want this."

Another wave of agony washed over Sukuna as you kicked him in the crotch again, making his dicks twitch and drool. He cried out in sheer pain, his voice echoing through the chamber. Tears streamed down his face as he lay there, completely defeated and humiliated.

You were right. He had begged for this, and now he was paying the price for his own desires. His body trembled as he tried to cope with the searing pain coursing through him.

"S-Sick... Disgusting..." he repeated your words, the humiliation sinking deeper. 

Each kick was like a dagger to Sukuna's abdomen, the pain intensifying with every strike. He could barely think straight, his mind consumed by the overwhelming torment coursing through him. He tried to beg for mercy, to make it stop, but his pleas were only met with further mockery and pain.

"P-please... It hurts... It hurts so—”

"It hurts! It hurts!" you mocked in a high pitched voice, giving him another kick.

The pain was unbearable. It was like a searing fire coursing through him, blurring his vision and numbing his mind. Each kick felt like a brutal reminder of his vulnerability and how he had let himself be reduced to this pitiful state. He tried to form words, to beg for mercy, but all that came out were incoherent cries of anguish. He had lost any semblance of control, reduced to nothing but a whimpering wreck at your feet.

Yet, in the darkest depths of his agony, a part of him was still ashamed of the desperate need for this torment, the twisted satisfaction it gave him despite the pain. He was a curse, a King of Curses, and yet he was being broken by a human. The irony was a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Stop... Please... Just stop," he managed to croak out, tears mingling with his pain.

The relentless assault left him gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face. He was trapped in a never-ending cycle of agony and humiliation, and there was no escape. Sukuna had never felt so out of control in his existence. He was begging you to stop, begging you to keep going.

You flashed a mischievous grin and ceased your playful kicking. With an enticing sway, you straddled his waist, your back turned to him. Slowly, you traced the delicate path of your nails, tantalisingly dragging them up the expanse of his powerful thighs. 

"How's this?" you purred, your voice dripping with seduction.

"Ah... Ah...! H-it's... M-mmh!" His thoughts felt scrambled as he couldn't think anymore.

Your touch sent waves of ecstasy through him. His body quivered in response to the electrifying sensation of your nails tracing his thighs. Each deliberate drag felt like a surge of electric pleasure, setting his lower body ablaze with delightful twitches and shivers that seemed to course through his entire being.

"What was that? I didn't hear you," you taunted playfully.

He struggled to form a coherent response to your taunt. The sensitivity was overwhelming, and every movement you made felt like a magnificent burst of fireworks throughout his body. Every fibre of his being was trembling, and all he could manage was a desperate whimper.

"M-mmh... Ah! It feels... Ah!" he gasped.

"Pardon?" you chimed, feigning innocence.

As if the intensity wasn't already overwhelming, you chose that moment to pinch him, rolling the skin of his ballsack between your fingers, causing a sharp wave of pain to shoot through his entire being. The pain was searing, making his body contort, but paradoxically, there was an undeniable undercurrent of pleasure. The sensation of the pinch pushed him closer to the edge, and a growing feeling of heat surged within him.

"Ah!"

"You're close, aren't you?"

A deep blush now coloured his cheeks, an undeniable testament to his arousal. He couldn't deny it any longer—being pinched in such a way ignited an intense mixture of sensations within him. The pain, sharp and intense, coexisted with an overwhelming pleasure that seemed to radiate through every fibre of his being.

"Y-yes... I'm close... I-"

Sukuna's body jerked and tensed as a slap of your hand sent waves of pain and pleasure coursing through him, making his cocks sway in the air pitifully. Your taunts only fueled the fire within him, igniting a longing he couldn't deny. He was a king, but in this moment, he was at your mercy, and a part of him relished in the vulnerability of it all.

He couldn't bring himself to respond, the sensations rendering him speechless, his breathing erratic, and his body trembling under your touch and words.

"Yeah? You like that, don't you? Freak."

His moans were desperate, an involuntary response to the storm of sensations assaulting him. The mixture of pleasure and pain had him teetering on the edge of ecstasy and torment. It was a chaotic dance, and he was the unwilling participant, pulled in every direction by the whims of this strange, sadistic human being.

"You're such a loser."

As Sukuna struggled to regain control, a voice in his head told him that this wasn't over yet, that the storm was far from calming. And he knew, deep down, that he wanted to experience whatever came next, no matter how twisted or dark it might be. He was so close… He could feel it. He couldn't help but admit that he was a loser. He was getting off to this… 

"You're a loser. A freak. A sicko. It's disgusting and perverted. You're so gross."

He was moaning loudly, and he was shaking in a way he could not control. "You deserve this."

"S-Yes... I-I deserve it! Please…! ‘M a loser! I’m disgusting! I deserve this!"

The words were tumbling out of his mouth, but he couldn't stop now. Every feeling you were giving him continued to push him towards paradise.

He had unlocked a hidden aspect of himself, one that craved the twisted pleasure that came from this dark encounter. The way he responded, eagerly admitting his worthlessness and desire for punishment, only fueled the fire within you.

"You're such a pathetic, filthy creature," you hissed, punctuating your words with another slap to his crotch, making him shudder and cry out.

Sukuna's moans grew louder, and he writhed beneath you, completely at your mercy. The pain, the humiliation, the pleasure—it was all merging into a chaotic symphony of sensations that threatened to consume him whole. He was nodding his head in agreement to your words. He didn't deserve more than the punishment you were giving him. He was pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

And then it hit him. 

As his body convulsed and trembled, he felt the flood of emotions he had never allowed himself to experience before. The boundaries he had erected around his desires and vulnerabilities were crumbling, and he was exposed, raw, and consumed by the overpowering intensity of the moment. Sukuna's silent scream echoed in his mind, his eyes rolling back into his head as tears fell and streaked his face, snot dripping from his snivelling nose, drool seeping from his mouth with his tongue lolled out.

He came everywhere, ropes upon ropes of cum spurting from his cocks, thick and oozing and staining your hands and his flushed skin. His ambodmen flexed and trembled as he came, and his thighs rubbed together, veins bulging. Your hands left his balls and wrapped around each length, stroking and pumping out every last drop as he writhed and bucked into your touch. You marvellevd at the sheer amount of mess he could make as it clung to your fingers and slicked up your palms with each stoke.

Sukuna's claws dug into the ground, leaving deep gouges in the bone flooring as he sought some form of grounding in the midst of this tumultuous experience. The pain and pleasure had taken him to the brink of his own understanding, and his body's response was primal, uncontrolled, and desperate. He was no longer the composed and collected King of Curses but a mindless creature enslaved to pleasure, and enslaved to you.

You couldn't help but laugh, a triumphant grin dancing across your lips as you gazed down. "What are you, Sukuna?"

He could only drool and babble incoherently, his body squirming and writhing in response to the overwhelming sensations. The once-mighty King of Curses had been reduced to a quivering mess, incapable of forming a coherent reply. As you observed him, the power you held over him was undeniably evident, but it left you somewhat exasperated. You had expected more of a challenge from the formidable King of Curses, yet he had proven to be surprisingly vulnerable when faced with his own desires.

You paused, letting the weight of the moment sink in, and then decided to finish the sentence yourself. "Nothing. You are nothing to me," you declared, the words dripping with finality.

In that instant, Sukuna's eyes reflected a complex mix of emotions—humiliation, anger, and a hint of something resembling realisation. The reality of his vulnerability stung, and the acknowledgement of his insignificance cut deeper than any physical pain ever could. 

Nothing. 

Nothing.

a/n: this was written with spite. revenge for chapter 236. bitch. and yes, you will be exposed to silly little literature quotes n references. i will force feed you intertextuality. hugs n kisses to @lunerabo for some of the dialogue hehe. Happy Kinktober!!! :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

[pretzel-box]

Hallo ●♡●

I got a funny request

So basically Sebastian meets a reader/player with a korblox/headless/troll avatar/ wings or horns/cosplayers (maybe one as Seb)

Ect... (You can describe you own avatar too)

Silly prompt cause what if Sebastian could see we (our avatar) clearly don't look human and why we haven't been captured/experimented on

Aka this whole request is just Seb being confused as fuck-

Tags: Comedy, random apperance for reader, gender neutral reader, headless

Words: 1,4k

Authors Note: As someone with real headless, I can confirm that headless doesn't work ingame.

Sebastian watched in horrified fascination as you emerged from the vent. Your movements were nonchalant, as if clambering through air ducts was as routine as taking a stroll. You dusted off your uniform, a completely unnecessary gesture since the dust was clearly imaginary, and adjusted the peculiar floating accessory hovering over what should have been your shoulders.

It took him a moment to process what he was seeing. His three eyes widened, pupils dilating as they locked onto you. Where your head should have been, there was… nothing. Just a void, an empty space that seemed to defy logic. He could see right through you, catching glimpses of the rusted pipes and wires lining the walls behind.

“What the hell—” Sebastian stuttered, his voice filled with shock and more than a hint of repulsion. His fingers twitched at his sides, and he had to resist the instinctive urge to reach for a weapon—though he knew that, logically, weapons wouldn’t do much good in a situation like this. He continued to stare, his confusion only growing with each passing second.

You turned toward him—or at least, your body did, since there was no face to show any expression. “What?” you asked, your voice eerily calm, completely unaffected by the lack of a mouth. “Is there something on my uniform?”

Sebastian blinked rapidly, as if trying to reset his brain to make sense of this absurd reality. “That's… strangely…” he stammered, searching for the right words. “...Disgusting.”

“Rude,” you shot back, hands going to your hips. His gaze dropped, and he couldn’t help but notice the bright yellow rubber duck bag hanging there, comically out of place in this bleak, industrial environment. As if that weren’t enough, a floating picture of Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson hovered just above your shoulders, rotating slowly as if it were on display. It was surreal. Completely, utterly surreal.

Sebastian’s mouth fell open. “You’ve got… a rubber duck bag… and a floating headshot of The Rock,” he managed, pointing weakly at the bizarre ensemble. “And no face. How are you even speaking? How do you see? And why in the world do you have a picture of Dwayne Johnson just… floating there?!”

You tilted your non-existent head, a gesture that would’ve looked quizzical if you had any features to display it. “I see just fine,” you replied with a casual shrug. “As for speaking, that’s just a matter of speaking. And The Rock?” You gestured vaguely toward the picture, which continued its slow, mesmerizing spin. “He’s my emotional support human.”

Sebastian let out a half-snort, half-laugh, though his expression remained one of disbelief. “Why am I freaked out?” he repeated, still staring at the empty space where your head should be. “You look like something out of a fever dream! How have you not been captured or experimented on down here?”

You let out a chuckle—an eerie sound given the circumstances. “Oh, I get that a lot. But I think I blend in just fine with the rest of the… what do you call them? Entities?” You glanced around the room, as if to emphasize your point. “Besides, no one wants to mess with someone who looks like they stepped out of a nightmare.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but grin, despite himself. “Yeah, you’ve got that part nailed,” he muttered, still shaking his head in disbelief. “You probably scare off half the things down here just by existing.”

You did a mock bow, your non-existent head dipping forward with exaggerated grace. “Thank you, thank you. I aim to unsettle.”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound coming out lighter this time, more genuine. “You’re definitely good at that,” he admitted, relaxing slightly. “But seriously, next time, give a guy a heads-up before you pop out of a vent looking like… well, whatever this is.”

“I’ll consider it,” you replied with a teasing tone, the rubber duck on your bag giving a little bounce as you shifted your weight. “But where’s the fun in that?”

The tension in the room seemed to dissolve, replaced by an odd sense of camaraderie. Sebastian shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he tried to make sense of the strange being standing before him.

“Only in this place,” he muttered, “could I end up with a faceless, rubber duck-toting, Rock-fanatic as a companion.”

And somehow, despite the absurdity of it all, that was exactly what made it feel… right.

Sebastian was still trying to wrap his head around the sight of you when the sound of frantic scrambling echoed from the vent behind him. He turned just in time to see another figure tumble through the duct opening—a short, pudgy man with wild hair and a permanent look of bewilderment on his face. Berry. One of Sebastian’s more frequent, and certainly clumsier, customers.

Berry landed awkwardly on his feet, nearly toppling over before catching himself against a nearby shelf. His eyes were wide, darting around nervously as if he’d been followed. “Sebastian! AHHHHH—” he began, his voice high-pitched and breathless, but then his gaze shifted to you.

The moment he saw your faceless form with the floating Rock photo and rubber duck bag, Berry’s jaw dropped, his face going pale. He froze, staring at you with a mixture of terror and confusion. “AHHHHHHhhh?!” he squeaked, pointing a shaky finger in your direction.

You raised a hand in a casual wave, the kind that might say “hello” if you had a face to go with it. “Hi,” you said cheerfully, as if your appearance wasn’t the least bit disturbing. “Nice to meet you!”

Berry’s eyes bulged even wider. “Ahhhhhhhh?!” he stammered, taking a stumbling step backward. In his panic, his foot caught on a loose piece of metal on the floor. He tried to catch his balance, but instead, he lurched into a nearby shelf.

The impact was enough to send the precariously stacked items on the shelf cascading down. Jars of strange glowing liquids, bits of rusted machinery, and a few well-loved trinkets that Sebastian had collected over the years came crashing to the ground with a series of loud clatters and splashes.

“Berry, watch it!” Sebastian shouted, rushing forward to try to steady the shelf, but it was too late. One of the jars rolled off the edge and shattered on the floor, sending a bright green substance oozing across the metal surface.

Berry’s eyes darted between you and the mess he’d just created, his panic only increasing. “Ahhhhaheee!” he babbled, his voice shrill with fear. “AHhhhhheeee!”

Before Sebastian could say another word, Berry spun around and bolted for the vent he’d come through. He scrambled up, his limbs flailing as he tried to pull himself back inside. “AHHHH!” he yelled over his shoulder, his voice echoing from within the duct. “AHHHHHHH.”

And with that, he disappeared back into the darkness of the vent, his panicked scrambling fading into the distance.

Sebastian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he looked at the chaos left behind. “Great. Another mess,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Berry’s going to scare himself to death one of these days.”

You watched the whole scene unfold with a sort of bemused curiosity. “Is he always like that?” you asked, turning your headless gaze back toward Sebastian.

Sebastian chuckled softly, bending down to pick up one of the trinkets that had survived the fall. “Pretty much,” he said, setting the item back onto the now-empty shelf. “He’s harmless, though. Just a bit… high-strung.”

You nodded—or at least made a nodding motion. “Can’t blame him, I suppose. I do have that effect on people.”

Sebastian glanced over at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, well, you’re definitely unique,” he said. “But hey, you scared him off without even trying. Maybe you should hang around more often. Could help keep the riffraff out.”

You gave a mock bow again, this time with an exaggerated flourish. “Always happy to help,” you replied with a hint of playful sarcasm. “Though next time, I’ll try not to make someone pee their pants.”

Sebastian laughed, a genuine sound that echoed warmly through the cluttered shop. “Yeah, let’s keep the cleanup to a minimum,” he agreed, still smiling. “But, hey, thanks. For… whatever this is. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good laugh.”

“Anytime,” you said, your tone light and cheerful. “And if you ever need an unsettling presence to keep things lively, you know where to find me.”

Sebastian nodded, his grin widening. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied. And for a moment, in this bizarre, twisted world they both inhabited, everything felt oddly… normal.

Well, as normal as things could get when you had a faceless companion with a rubber duck bag and a floating photo of The Rock hovering by your side.

[pupsmailbox]

ALICE IN WONDERLAND ID PACK

NAMES︰ adelaide. alice. alyx. aspen. azalea. blanche. blanchesse. blanchette. bunny. cat. cherie. cheshire. chester. claire. clover. daisy. elsie. hart. hatter. hattie. hyacinth. indigo. iris, iris. jack. kingsley. knight. lacey. lacie. lily. matilda. merry. misty. night. noire. noiresse. noirette. oddity. opal, petunia. queenie. rook. rose, rose. rouge. rougesse. rougette. salem. simon. sparrow. tiffany. tillie. vanessa. verity. violet. void. wisp. wybie.

PRONOUNS︰ ae/aem. ae/aer. biz/bizarre. bow/bow. bun/bun. bunny/bunny. card/card. cat/cat. caterpillar/caterpillar. che/cher. clover/clover. club/club. creep/creep. cu/cute. curious/curious. cute/cute. dark/dark. diamond/diamond. dream/dream. eer/eerie. fall/fall. fear/fear. float/float. flower/flower. fool/fool. freak/freak. grim/grim. grow/grow. guard/guard. hat/hat. haze/haze. heart/heart. hx/hxm. hy/hym. h♡/h♡m. h♢/h♢m. h♤/h♤m. h♧/h♧m. king/king. knight/knight. lace/lace. lo/lost. lost/lost. mir/mirror. odd/odd. queen/queen. rabbit/rabbit. red/red. rook/rook. shrink/shrink. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. sh♡/h♡r. sh♢/h♢r. sh♤/h♤r. sh♧/h♧r. smoke/smoke. spade/spade. surreal/surreal. swirl/swirl. tea/cup. tea/tea. tea/teacup. teacup/teacup. thxy/thxm. thy/thom. th♡y/th♡m. th♢y/th♢m. th♤y/th♤m. th♧y/th♧m. time/time. twist/twisted. weird/weird. won/wonder. ♠/♠. ♣️/♣️. ♥/♥. ♦/♦.

[fertilize-my-eggs]

Send to the mha omegaverse Ch.1

Am I dead?!? ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 A03

A/N: This story is a self-insert x shigaraki if you don't like self-insert, y/n and dark theme content this isn't for youuuu!! It's for me personally since I thought about it for a while so I finally wrote about this, I hope y'all don't find me too boring in this story. 18+ no minors or antis, maps interact with my contacts GO AWAY!! I'll post this every Thursday not this Thursday but the next one!! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。*edit* I changed my quirk a bit so it's not a touching type of quirk but eye contact means that the reader can't look at people in the eyes so I do apologize for anyone who got confused by it.

✩｡♡ ࣪ ˖❀ ⑅ *✩｡♡ ࣪ ˖❀ ⑅ *✩｡♡ ࣪ ˖❀ ⑅ *✩｡ ♡ ࣪ ˖❀ ⑅ *

Living a boring life as a 26 year old woman, I would wake up to feed my cute dogs as I sat down to watch YouTube on television. It's like a hamster running on its wheel, everything repeats and it's the same. 

My life isn't as perfect as the others, it's like a roller coaster sometimes. I enjoy my time alone by watching anime and gushing over fictional characters online.

Most importantly tomura shigaraki, I couldn't help but smile whenever I see him on screen while I scroll on YouTube. I would gush over his voice and the way he talks in it.

I giggle whenever it's shown a video of him talking in his gaming references.

Man I love him so much, I thought to myself as I scroll away to see crochet Tiktok or tutorials on how to make cute items.

I pouted as I thought about it. Maybe I should crotchet outside and make a cute little bag with flowers, I smile happily.

I get up to walk into my room, I bring my bag that has my material as I went to get the yarns that I want to use.

Once I get a good handful of yarns, I begin to walk outside to look at the sky. It's a bit cloudy then usually as I walk towards a chair with a nice shade underneath my tree.

I begin to crochet quietly and watch the neighbors do their work. It was calm and relaxing weather today.

Suddenly I feel a drop of rain on my hair as I look up, maybe it won't rain as bad.

I continue to focus on my project as I ignore the rain. It was getting a bit bad as I quickly put my project away and started to run towards the door.

A sudden flash of light hit my view, costing me to close my eyes tight and ringing in my ears… Am I dead?!? as I fell over onto a cement… weird, I should feel the hard ground of dirt why is it hard and why am I hearing people talking?!?

I slowly raise my head up to witness a group of people standing around me. What I notice off the bat is that it's not realistic but it's like something that you feel is uncanny.

Everyone looked like cartoon characters and I noticed there was a mall that had a hero merch.

I immediately recognize the hero as it has all might… could this be.. no it can't be, I sat upwards as I began to look around my surroundings.

There were heros rusting in and asking me questions, it felt so surreal and it hurt my brain.

How… Can a simple thunder send me here in their universe!? I started to breathe heavily, feeling like it's a twilight zone.

I grip my hair as I curl into a ball, this isn't happening but this is what you wanted right?

You get to be someone in this universe then your old boring life, I begin to blink a few times to notice my belongings aren't with me.

What the hell? Where is my bag and everything??? Then I hear a familiar voice coming in, he has a concerned gentle voice.

“ Are you alright ma'am? ” I immediately look up to see izuku midoriya standing in front of me. It feels so bizarre, there is no way in hell. I can't look him in the eyes, everything feels and looks weird as I try not to freak out.

I slowly get off the floor, I clean myself off as I said.” I-I’m okay thank you young man.” is this the first season?? because izuku looks like he's wearing a black outfit and golden button as I witness the hero taking down a big villain that has deep brown hair as people were gathering toward mt lady while kamui woods looks a bit annoyed by this.

“ y-yeah you fell over on the ground costing everyone to be worried about you. ” he awkwardly put a hand on his neck as he chuckled as I stood still. Does this affect the story of this universe? It feels so wrong talking to him and knowing what happened in the manga.

“ yeahh… I'm doing fine-.” wait do I have a quirk in this universe, I gotta have a quirk.

Hopefully it is useful, people are more interested in the hero than a random stranger falling to the floor as I try anything.

Izuku tilts his head a bit confused by what I'm doing as I throw hands in the air or something like a power move..

“ What are you doing? ” I stop as I look at him but not directly as I think of something that isn't crazy.

“ uhh… I'm trying to see if I have a quirk but nothing is working. '' his eyes widened in an optimistic way.

“ oh!! Maybe you have something to do with contact kind of quirk?? Are you quirkless? ” I tilt my head as I think, it could be like a normal quirk or it could be like shigaraki's quirk. Where I accidentally hurt someone and that is izuku as I try to stay calm.

“ uhh I'm not sure… to be honest. ” I don't know how to tell someone that I'm not in this world or don't belong here.

“ Uhhm do you have a paper or pencil? ” he nodded his head as he pulled a piece of paper out.

I put my hand out as he put the paper on my palm, nothing happened okay so it's not like decay quirk as I sighed in relief.

“ mhmm how about you use it on me ma'am? ” I tilt my head with confusion as he begins to wave his hands fast.

“ no.. I meant to use my hand. ” I shake my head as I apologize to him, I hold my breath.

“ What if it hurts you? ” I had a worried look as izuku has a hopeful expression. 

“ I mean it didn't affect the paper, it would be-..” he started to mumble as I forgot he does this sometimes as I waited patiently and he started to apologize quickly.

“ oh my goodness I'm sorry miss, I-I tend to have a habit of doing that. ” I smile gently as I said.

“ you're fine, I tend to have it too when I'm hyper focused about something. ” he sighs in relief as he puts his hand out.

“ Whenever you're ready, miss.” I begin to hold my breath as I put my hand on top of his..

Nothing works, alright I'll try looking at him-... As we make eye contact as I pause for a second as I look at midoriya.

He looked at me strangely as he had a doopy silly smile and pulled me close into a hug as I gasped out loud.

What the hell?? Why is he acting like this so suddenly?

“ I'm in love with youuuu ma'am~!! ” oh… does this mean my quirk is.. something to do with love? Or maybe it's a yandere lovestruck type of quirk.

I shake him out of it and he blink a few times.

“ uhh w-what happened? ” I feel my cheeks getting red from embarrassment as I awkwardly laugh.

“ I think my quirk is lovestruck because you hugged me and said that you're in love with me so I can't make eye contact with anyone.”

“ in l-love?? That…” he gasps from this as he writes it down in his notebook fast.

“ incredible!! That quirk sounds so interesting and puts people in a mindset where they can't remember anything afterwards-. ” hearing him mutter about the possibilities of my quirk as I start to feel nervous so I can't make eye contact with others, this is gonna be a challenge .

I start to think about the possibilities as I put my thumb on my lips. A lovestruck quirk sounds harmless to others but I can't imagine if I accidentally look at the wrong person, will it be a dangerous individual or…

I widen my eyes as I pause for seconds since I know shigaraki and every character exists. What if I accidentally stare at him, will he be fully yandere towards me?

No that's possible, this is crazy… Everything feels so bizarre, I need to get home asap.

“ ma'am? ” I don't look directly at Midoriya but with confusion as I noticed him holding his nose as if I smell bad, I don't think I smell… okay now I feel self-conscious about it.

“ you should get patches on your neck, you don't want an alpha to bite your neck..”

Not only I'm in my hero academia universe but it's an omegaverse, this couldn't get any better..

[ragsy]

OC Masterlist (in alphabetical order)

Monster of the Week:

🐕 Dogmark (Mark "Dogmark" Stevens) (he/him)

A normal human guy in his late twenties/early thirties who got cursed to be a cannibalistic dogman. Extremely socially anxious, very fight-or-flight driven, struggling to come to terms with his monstrosity. Currently an NPC in an active game.

Tag: #oc dogmark | Visual reference

📚 Emily Song (she/her)

A real type-A woman in her thirties. She has a degree and a job and a fiancé and a dad (Kenneth) who went missing five years ago and suddenly reappeared out of nowhere, ranting and raving about having been in some bizarre surreal other world. She doesn't believe in the supernatural. She thinks he needs help. Currently an NPC in an active game.

Tag: #oc emily

🚬 Everett (any pronoun, but defaults to he/him)

Some manner of immortal smoke demon in a human vessel, using his powers of influence over people to grow his Youtube channel and Twitch audience. He doesn't want your soul, he just wants your impressionable teen's expendable income. Not currently in any active games.

Tag: #oc everett

🐟 Fishwoman (Diane Fishwoman) (she/her, it/its)

An emotionally constipated humanoid fish person (age unknown) who spends her free time daydrinking and stealing things. She's friends with benefits with Sloane, though she'd never admit to how much the "friends" component of that means to her. Not currently in any active games.

Tag: #oc fishwoman | Visual reference

🚪 Kenneth Song (Uncle Kenny) (he/him)

A goofy, soft-hearted widower and retired dentist (age 65) who recently escaped a five year internment in a liminal horror dimension called the Other Place. Trying his best to reconnect with his adult daughter. Currently in an active MOTW game (Searcher playbook)

Tags: #oc kenneth, #vistas from the other place | Visual reference | Playlist (YouTube version)

🍂 Mary Song (she/her)

A level-headed and analytical Voice of Reason, as well as a middlingly talented spellcrafter. She died suddenly at age 32, survived by her husband (Kenny) and daughter (Emily), and has been haunting their respective narratives ever since.

Tag: #oc mary

🔫 Sloane (Agent Hill) (she/her)

A broad-shouldered tough-as-nails action butch. Makes her living doing field missions, getting monsters and other supernatural beings out of sight. She has a curse on her left arm that's slowly spreading to the rest of her body, but she hasn't told anyone besides her immediate superiors about it. Despite her hard exterior, she's got a warm heart that genuinely cares about the people she protects. NPC in a defunct campaign, currently planned to be a PC in an upcoming campaign, Professinal playbook.

Tag: #oc sloane | Visual reference

Dungeons and Dragons

✨ Arjibi (Arji the Fool) (he/him, they/them)

Farmboy turned stage magician turned adventurer! He's a sweet silly boy with big expressive eyes and too much joy for his twinky body. Also, statistically speaking, he's your friend now. Dragonborn sorcerer (draconic heritage). Currently in two separate active campaigns.

Tag: #oc arjibi | Visual reference | Defunct inspo blog: @arjibi-time

👊 Carex (she/her)

Aarakocra monk, way of mercy. Looks like a secretary bird because she's really good at kicking the shit out of people. Currently in an active campaign, but she's not really as much a character to roleplay as she is a tool to use in combat.

Tag: #oc carex

🤖 M.A.G. (Mechanical Autonomous Guardsman, aka Maggie or Mags) (it/its)

Once a mindless patrol construct, now mysteriously gifted with self awareness and holy powers. It's driven by duty to protect others first, and curiosity second. It's learning how to be a person! A little bit like a cross between Big Bird and Levi Scavengersreign. Warforged Paladin, oath of the crown. Currently in an active campaign.

Tag: #oc maggie | Visual reference

🧪 Professor Dewlap (Finneas Carlton Dewlap) (he/him)

Mad scientist. Cantankerous old bitch. Blew himself to smithereens in a freak lab accident, currently climbing his way back out of the afterlife to resume whatever the hell he was working on. Dragonborn artificer. Not currently in an active campaign, but he's planned for a future one.

Tag: #oc professor dewlap

⚔ Sir Dillion (Sir Dillion Fontaine Sargasso) (he/him)

Chivalrous medieval knight in shining armor with a fish for a head. Broad of chest, kind of heart, dumb of ass. Triton fighter (cavalier subclass), campaign completed!

Tag: #oc sir dillion | Visual references

Miscellaneous

🦎 Lizardsona (any pronoun)

This is literally just my fursona. Some sort of lizardy muppetty creature.

Tag: #lizardsona | Visual references

🐲 Marginalia (Marge) (any pronoun)

A medieval scribe's drawing of a dragon, come to life. Also sort of a quasi-fursona, though I don't use them very often.

Tag: #oc marginalia | Visual references

[1863-project]

Okay, was thinking about it and I remembered a lot of you were very young or not even alive for this, so:

When 9/11 happened I was 12 and had just started 7th grade. I grew up in a suburb of New York City. 12 people from my town died, including a firefighter whose son was in my younger brother's CCD group.

Things changed SO fast. Practically overnight. Suddenly, we were all hypervigilant, and after the immediate response of assistance from around the world, the prejudice was oozing from nearly everywhere. In northern New Jersey, we had and still have a large west (Middle East) and south Asian population. They were hit the hardest.

People freaked out just because a mosque was going to be built in lower Manhattan within several blocks of Ground Zero at one point. It was ridiculous and the Islamophobia was so fucking awful and infuriating. It still is. It didn't go away. For the most part, New Yorkers are usually good to each other because there's literally someone from everywhere here, but this was legitimately terrifying. People would even attack Sikhs - who weren't Muslim, Sikhism is its own thing - because they saw the turbans and made a decision based on racism (i.e. bin Laden had a turban so these people must be like him).

The "patriotism" was miserable. "Freedom fries" happened because people were mad that France didn't want to go into Iraq with Bush in 2003. We all thought it was stupid then too.

The Chicks (formerly known as the Dixie Chicks) got blackballed because they came out against said war. They were one of the biggest country acts in the world at the time. In general, country music went through a massive tonal shift post-9/11 and became far more "patriotic" and conservative. Johnny Cash wouldn't have recognized it.

The Flash movies that inevitably popped up satirizing politics were...something. You can find most of them archived on YouTube these days. But that was how the internet tended to cope back then.

The shift from happiness to paranoia was so fucking fast. I went from a world where my biggest concern was pre-ordering the GameCube to being worried about politics and death all the time. All the news showed was footage of people dying for weeks. Politicians started using the footage in commercials. You just had to keep reliving the trauma of it over and over again. I stopped watching the news.

It was, looking back on it, a huge galvanizing point for the American right. Politicians started using 9/11 to justify so many things. This was where I began to see as a young teenager that you could use people's prejudices to get a grip on power and get what you wanted. I didn't like it.

People started drawing memorial art almost immediately. The phenomenon of memorial art being done decades later with cartoon characters still persists on deviantART to this day, but when it started, it was mostly people doing vent art because it's really upsetting to be a kid and see death on that scale on the news.

It took me 15 years to go back to the site after 9/11. I'd been as a kid in 1997 and I went up in the South Tower with my family. I didn't set foot there again until 2016, 15 years after the attacks. I found the name of the firefighter whose son was in my brother's CCD class. It was surreal.

This chapter of American history arguably closed for many people in 2011, when bin Laden was killed in a raid. I remember watching the Mets play the Phillies that night. Daniel Murphy, who I'd named a cat after two years earlier, was at bat, and suddenly the crowd started chanting "USA." I used my Blackberry to check the news and that was how I found out. I was a senior in college, about to graduate. I don't even remember how I felt, just that the way I found out was so fucking weird.

It was a really stressful, bizarre climate to grow up in. In the time between my 12th and my 22nd birthday, I saw my entire world get turned upside down overnight, massive waves of prejudice, unnecessary wars that killed even more innocent people, literal war crimes (tw: rape, murder, prisoner torture, every other bad thing you can think of under the sun), and the rise of false patriotism and nationalism, which you can still see the right wing harnessing today.

If you're going to mock something here, mock the false patriotism. Mock "Freedom Fries." Mock George W. Bush. Just...don't mock the actual moments where people died. Too many innocent people died from the attacks themselves, the Islamophobia afterwards, and the wars that followed. That shit isn't funny.

[madeintimeland]

this blog is a safe space for weirdos and freaks and creeps and degenerates and the strange and socially unacceptable and deranged and odd and quirky and wacky and bizarre and surreal and confusing i love you so so so much please keep making the world a stranger place

[goldenfreddys]

march '04, plymouth county, massachusetts: the living dead & his lover

“It might make me feel better if you put on the sexy nurse outfit. Y’know, act out a scene where you fuckin’ know what the hell you’re doing?”

Eugene gave Mike a queasy smile from the edge of the bathtub, “If that’s what it takes.”

Mike was standing at the sink, boggling at his own partially decomposed body in the mirror– which, somehow, looked in better condition than it did the day before.

“... This should be more painful and terrifying. I should be dead.” Mike murmured, flatly, “I can’t feel anything. Like if I stop talking, I might slip off again—this time for good. N’ I don’t want to, but it all feels so… Surreal.”

Eugene tried to seem unphased by the sudden shift in tone this conversation had taken. He remembered Mike telling him it was an inherited quirk; the rapid, indecisive way he shuffled between humor and sincerity, to the extent that telling where one ended and the other started was getting too complicated for everyone involved. Eugene knew that in this context, ‘inherited’ meant Mike unintentionally picked up the mannerism from his father, which one could easily extrapolate to mean it was something about himself that pissed him off to no end.

These past few years—well, maybe since the day Eugene met him, really—living in proximity to the Aftons was one batshit thing after another. Mostly tragic things, but always bizarre. He flowed with it. Mike was, after all, the only freak in a hundred mile radius that could even relatively handle him.

“... Mikey?”

He hummed in response.

“I did some sleuthing while you were away.”

“You were stalking me?”

“Forever and always. Anywho, the Funtime Animatronics, Mikey. Freddy, Foxy… Those are clearly Fazbear Entertainment’s exclusive intellectual property. If Afton Robotics LLC. is a separate legal entity, he would’ve needed to request permission to use these assets. Alternatively—and far more likely, given the circumstances—it’s a related enterprise that’s operating off Freddy’s resources without Mr. Emily’s knowledge.”

Mike finally turned away from the mirror to look at Eugene, though he seemed to still be processing what he was trying to say.

“If that’s true, at the very least, your father is in several different precarious legal situations. Which- well, obviously, but disingenuous business practices would be a good ‘first domino’ in the crime trail. It’s simple, it’s believable. It opens the door.”

He grimaced, “It wasn’t just me. Two other technicians, at least- the last night… I don’t know the scale of it, but… Whatever or whoever he’s using to cover this shit up, it’s been working flawlessly for a long time.”

“Complicated lies tend to come apart fast. All you need is the right loose thread. Speaking of which,” Eugene stood up, stretched and touched his shoulder, “Just realized I didn’t tie those stitches off right at all. Hold still.”

Mike groaned.

[castlebyersafterdark]

that genuinely fascinates me about guys being self conscious about their noises, perhaps its common in gay circles, i dont know if youve ever slept with any men who consider themselves straight, but please can we megaphone the message out to all men that us girls LOVE the noises you make and in fact that's sometimes the only thing that gets me over the line? more than visuals and sometimes even feel, depending on how im feeling? like, dont send me a dick pic. send me an audio clip of you going to town lmao. seriously, hottest thing ever. when people on here talk about will's pretty moans, its always like... damn. you know what's up.

side note: seeing as finn/mike has the higher vocal register, i think his moans would be amazing too. and so much for anti spicy byler, cos THIS video has a suspicious amount of 'most replayed' clicks in a certain section where finn could be seen as... well. ahem.

https://youtu.be/GnYmwJ8TM3k?si=7tR2_FN1al0dJtgP&t=92

Addressing the youtube link first because one - I do not understand bizarre/surreal internet humor because what the hell did I watch and TWO- HAHAHA people of the internet, yall are not slick. Most replayed. PSSSH yall are freaks. Love it.

Onwards. WITH YOU THOUGH ughh and I think it's a man thing, I just really have found it true with a notable number of both uhhhhh gay guys and straight guys. "Straight" in quotation marks because how straight are you if you routinely enjoy a guy going down on you like hmmm. College was interesting. Frat guys are interesting. "Interesting" in quotation marks as well. Frat guys love to lose gay chicken. Oh man. I am saying so many things. Don't care I guess.

But silence isn't interesting, no quotation marks!! Visuals and touch are only half the show, sounds, please! Otherwise it seems too detached, almost transactional, where's the feedback? The communication? The proof that what you're doing is working? People don't need to sound like a prnstar or some OF playing it up for subscribers, but forcing yourself to completely hold back or tense up because of self consciousness, that's no fun. And on the flip side, making too much noise but purposefully trying to hold back due to a situation where you need to be quiet - that's still good but in a different direction.

And I love how everyone seems to be in agreement that Will sounds absolutely divine when he's lost in these moments. Love that for him. We all know what's up. Of course a pretty boy like that would sound pretty, too. 🥰

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary256

5/30-31/24

thursday - friday

sitting here, tired kind of.

bunch of carpenter ants showed up, but they really don't seem as tenacious as the roaches, which is bizarre, but i guess that one time i saw them, that was real and i wasn't going crazy, but it felt like that. seeing them all there was so surreal, it's strange that bugs are really like that. it's getting less bad i suppose, or it doesn't freak me out and make me super depressed / ocd-triggered in the same ways.

i worked on 3 songs today too, which is nice.

i am staying up toooo lateee noww though. also i still have those selfies i need to send to myself. really annoying how bad i am or bad file transfer is between devices, or like, just becuz it's a fucking iphone and itunes is like one of the worst applications ever developed, and i guess i really am just kind of lazy.

i played more vtmb today, it's sad how much less good the game gets + the atmosphere sort of disappearing as well. idk. santa monica and downtown and hollywood are perfect places to be, kind of, in videogame history essentially, to me at least. everything after just gets a little idk, the game has a lot to offer when it lets you stumble around, find quests, i know it was rough to develop though, still, it's tragic how vacant it gets, almost.

also re-read the first volume of dead dead demon's dedededestruction, loved that, still. crazy that it could be better to punpun, for me. he just hits on something really perfect there, i see people saying the anime isn't super promising, we'll see i suppose, but i guess i'm not married to it being good. it's usually always the case that manga is better than anime i think, in my experience people do much more interesting work in manga typically and there's a lot more there that's stuck with me and inspired me, i feel like.

maybe i should talk about that more tomorrow. and revisit some stuff or go back to ppl like naoki urasawa and get some more of his stuff to read. he's such a genius. could be up there w/ nagai and tezuka, as kind of like, a real force in manga... idk. i wonder who i think the best people to make things are, in manga, like who my favorites would be. would be fun to figure out i guess.

anyway i really need to sleep so:

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sincerely-sofie]

I'm not sure how weird of a question it would be to ask, or if it's one i should ask, but if you could choose to hallucinate one of them again without any kind of drawbacks just to talk with them, would you? And who would you talk to?

Not a weird question at all, and it's one I've actually asked myself a lot over the years! If I were able to hallucinate one of my old Brain Roommates™️ again, but without the intense anxiety that is required for me to hallucinate in the first place or the actual damage to my brain that hallucinations do, I'd be very, very interested in it. However, my answer for who I would speak to in this hypothetical scenario has changed throughout the years.

Originally, I wanted to talk to the Black Clock. He was the most consistently distressing hallucination, and was a sort of manifestation of my intense perfectionism and high standards for myself. I wanted to ask him if I was enough. It was a question that haunted me for years, and either answer scared me. If I was enough, then that meant I wasn't living up to my potential and that I was "sinful, irredeemable filth" according to the script I told myself back then. If I wasn't enough, then I didn't deserve anything good and I was an active blight on all that I loved, somehow. Nowadays I don't have anything to say to him. I'm enough for myself and I'm enough for God. The opinion of some misfiring synapses doesn't matter.

After that, I wanted to speak to the Red Woman. She expressed remorse after I found my first set of medications that partially stopped me from hallucinating, and she apologized for what she put me through and told me goodbye. I held her the night I took those medications while she cried and said she was scared to die. I never saw or heard from her again, at least as a hallucination. I wanted to tell her I forgave her and that I hoped she was okay, wherever she was. I don't have that same anxiety over the speculative mortality of the voices in my head anymore, so I wouldn't say I would want to talk to her again. There's not much point to it in my eyes. She hurt me and said she was sorry. That's a full sentence. I don't need to open it up for anything else.

Later on, I wanted to talk to the Lime Hands because, in a very bizarre exchange, he expressed to me he was depressed and didn't want to exist. I wanted to see if he was feeling any better, as strange as it was to ask that of a hallucination. Now, though, I hate that freak and make no apologies for what the dang thing put me through, and the only way I'd want to reunite with him is in some wonderland scenario where I could tangibly interact with him. And that's only because I'm punching that sucker's teeth in and breaking his pinky fingers.

As for the present day answer: If I were to choose any of my hallucinations to speak to without consequence, I think I'd like to speak to Doc Brown, or the Marigold Girl.

Doc Brown was the most cordial of the hallucinations and actually stepped in to advocate for me on occasion when the pain was really bad. I liked him a lot. He was a friend to me when I had very few people to talk to. We joked together and he gave me advice and words of comfort during some of the worst nights of my life. I think it'd be fun, in a very surreal way, to catch up with him— ask him how he's doing, how he's been, if he and the Marigold Girl are still buddies and if the Red Woman and him ever got over the hump of their flirtatious hatred for each other and actually became an item. It'd be a nice little send off to the guy. He was one of the first hallucinations I stopped experiencing, and his disappearance was very abrupt. I'd like to be able to say goodbye properly, thank him for his help, and smile and kindly say I hope I never see him again.

(also, the guy's whole shtick was anxiety over disease / contamination and the possibility of me infecting others with whatever bug I caught at the time. I stopped hallucinating him WAY before 2020 and I think he would lose his mind if I told him about COVID-19. That was his time to shine and he missed it. Poor thing.)

The Marigold Girl was a very difficult figure for me to handle when I was hallucinating. On the one hand, she was a lovely, if somewhat unsettling, little girl. She liked it when I read books and explained the plots to her. She always wanted to be held. She was scared of the dark. She adored my stuffed animals and would whisper to them while I was trying to sleep. I enjoyed being around her for the most part, but she was a very weepy hallucination, and the Black Clock would deal out punishment without fail whenever she cried�� it was always my fault somehow, and so I suffered the consequences of her being a bit of a crybaby.

Looking back, I feel bad for her. She was a good kid, or at least as good of a kid as an unhealthy cocktail of neurochemicals in a weary brain can be. She once said she didn't want to cry all the time and wished she knew how to stop because I got in trouble because of it. I think it would be nice to comfort her and tell her it wasn't her fault that I'd be hurt. She couldn't control things anymore than I could back then.

I'd really like to show her the new stuffed animals I've collected over the years and read her one of the short stories I've written. I think she'd like Winter Came and Went if she didn't have to worry about the consequences of crying during the sad parts. She'd definitely enjoy Bibbidy Bee Goes to the Library. If possible, I'd like to ask what her favorite color is. I think she'd have a lot of fun answering, and I'd like being able to get to know this part of my psyche that was scared to let herself show any sadness for fear of hurting others with it.

[nitrateglow]

Halloween 2023 marathon: 2-4

The Skeleton Dance (dir. Walt Disney, 1929)

It doesn't feel like spooky season without a screening of The Skeleton Dance. The debut of the Silly Symphonies series, it remains one of the most iconic Disney cartoons.

I'm doing a post about the Silly Symphonies for my Wordpress and watching several of them, it's clear most of the earliest ones were more set on being tone poems. With its gothic atmosphere and macabre sense of humor, The Skeleton Dance might be the most successful Silly Symphony in that regard, competing strongly with the more visually refined The Old Mill from 1937 for the GOAT Silly Symphony crown. Personally, I prefer The Skeleton Dance-- it's funny, creative, and creepy, with an energy that seems inherent to its "primitive" state as an early talkie. (That part where the skeleton quartet combine into a four-headed monstrosity is still kind of creepy, even as an adult.)

Swing You Sinners! (dir. Dave Fleishcer, 1930)

This bizarre cartoon from the dawn of the talkie era went viral a few years back. People freaked out over the macabre visuals and merciless content: a dog tries stealing a chicken, then ends up in a cemetery where he's terrorized by talking tombstones and shapeshifting ghouls swearing they'll "scatter your bones away" and torment him forever.

I know saying "this was made on drugs" is a descriptive cliche, but... that's the vibe of this thing. The Fleischer cartoons of the early 1930s could get surreal indeed and this one is among the most uninhibited with its horrific images and comic but despairing tone. If I had seen this as a kid, it would have given me nightmares and watching it creeps me out even now. It doesn't even end with the dog escaping-- he's swallowed up by a huge skull and then the cartoon hits you with its "the end" card. Damn!

Hell's Bells (dir. Ub Iwerks, 1929)

In many ways a companion piece to The Skeleton Dance, Hell's Bells is a Silly Symphony about a bunch of devils partying it up in hell before they turn on one another. I just love the atmosphere and dark humor in this as well. We also get some weird, weird moments, like when the devils milk fire from a demon cow-- a strange mix of early Disney barnyard humor and the infernal setting.

It's interesting to compare the two Disney cartoons with the Fleischer one, now that I think about it. The Disney ones have some dark content and threats of peril, but they end on a resolved note: dawn comes and the skeletons have to go home to their grave, and the chief devil is punished for picking on the smaller devils. But the Fleischer cartoon just ends with its protagonist being punished far beyond the proportion of his crime with no hope of redemption. And it ends so suddenly too, giving you no time to let that sink in until the end titles have vanished from sight.

All three of these cartoons are great. If you're short on time for an evening viewing of a horror movie after work during the spooky season, all of these are under 10 minutes and well worth the watch for bite-sized chills.

[harrison-abbott]

Semi Autobiographical Story

They told me I needed to go and see the Guidance Officer at 11:15. At that time, I was in maths class – so I had to tell the maths teacher that I had to go. He seemed perplexed. As did I, because I had no clue why I was being pulled out. So I went down the claustrophobic yellow corridors and all the way downstairs and then I knocked on the Guidance Officer’s door. She was a mid-thirties blonde women who gave an air of not knowing what to wear if you saw her at a party, or, had gone into this profession without any desire to teach children and only chose it for the money, or, most importantly, had no training in child psychology, and had no qualification in counselling or any other form of therapy. “Come and sit down, Billy,” she said to me. And then she brought out two bits of paper.

“Did you write this?” I blinked at the story that I had written in English class. I nodded, thinking it was a bizarre question because it had my name written at the top of it. She pulled out a red pen. As in, a marker pen. “What gave you the idea to write this?” she asked me. I told her that I’d written it as an assignment for English class because they wanted us to write a scary story.

“But what made you write this material, Billy?”

“I just made it up. You know … because the teacher asked us to do a spooky piece.”

She sat back in her chair and looked at me. Prickling all over, and when she spoke she used that reprimanding voice that adults do with people who are far younger than them; and I still hadn’t much clue what was happening. Then she said,

“Do you know what happened in Germany earlier this week?”

“No.”

Apparently some German teenage boy had walked into his high school with a gun and had killed several people with it. As she told me all of this – again – I still had no clue why I was here or what this event in Deutschland had to do with me personally. She waffled on for a bit. And then went,

“Well. If something did happen here, we would have to say that we did know about it. So we can’t ignore what you’ve written in this story. Now. Let’s go through it.”

And then she proceeded to mark the 1500-word odd story that I had invented. It was probably less words than that actually, maybe around 900. And it was fairly skimpy writing because I was only 15 years old when I wrote it. I think, if I remember correctly, it was about an alien that comes down to planet Earth, disguised as a human. The alien walks about a suburb, looking like a handsome man. Nobody knows who he is. Though he can speak the neighbour’s language, they find him a bit weird. So they call the police on him because they’re freaked out by his presence. And then when the policemen arrest him, he panics and gets violent and ends up killing one of them. The alien runs away and there’s a manhunt for him – and nobody knows that he’s not a real man.

Honestly, it was about as silly as that. It was just a horror story … I thought that was what they’d told us to do. Make one of those.

But here was this Guidance woman underlining different bits in the story – as if I had made mistakes on an exam – and then asking me why I had included each bit. It was quite baffling. And because I was so young I began to believe that I had done something especially wrong. I thought I was ‘in trouble’, and yet I was confused as to what the crime was.

She then asked me if I read in my spare time? Yes, I said. Then she asked me what I read. Hmm, well, I said, I used to read those Edge Chronicles books, and those Mortal Engines ones, and, umm the Phillip Pullman ones … oh, and I just finished In Cold Blood. And her face changed when I said that and she went, “In Cold Blood?” She then wrote the title down on her notepad.

Altogether the one on one meeting with her was surreal. Befuddled as to how to defend myself, I said at one point, “I’m not insane.” And she said, “I know, Billy. I’m just trying to figure out where these ideas came from. They’re quite offensive.” She finished the meeting by telling me she was going to phone my mother and tell me about this. And she ordered me to go and apologise to the English teacher – who had been shocked by the story – and had been the man that had passed it on to her. It was him that flagged me up for it.

So I was let go for now. With this acute feeling that I was something dangerous and disliked and that the teachers were suddenly afraid of me. In short, I felt like a creep. I got back to maths class and tried to concentrate on the sums. And later on in the afternoon I saw my English teacher. I knew I had to go and say sorry to him and that’s what I did. It was in front of the other schoolkids; and their ears twitched as they listened, or they stared, wondering what I was apologising for. The English teacher was a mousey man from somewhere in England, whom hitherto I had actually been quite friendly with, and we’d even talked about books a few times. And it was quite jarring that he had snitched me out to the Guidance Officer. Was a tough betrayal to know that. “Okay, Billy,” he said, not looking at me, “Okay.” He was obviously keen for me to leave and take the attention away from him. [A few days later I saw him again, somewhere else in the building, and he flatly ignored me, when he obviously knew it was me, and walked past with a nervous expression.]

Yes. The Guidance Officer called my mother about the whole thing. And my mother stuck up for me, because I had written a creative story, and had done nothing wrong. Though I never knew the exact transcript from the phonecall, mother said that the Guidance woman got very irate and said things like, “Can you see the types of things he was writing here!” But, my mother was, quite rightly, on my side. [During the phone call the Guidance lady told my mother that I had read In Cold Blood. Mother said, “So what?”]

The incident did leave me damaged for a long time. Left me with the notion that I was dodgy or that I unnerved people.

There are similar examples from that particular high school which I’ve written about before. Perhaps I was a bit unlucky that I went there. I find it telling that I left high school early – and a couple of years later went to university, instead, where things were far different, and totally flourished there as an academic.

Nowadays I still look on this tale as being a bit odd and unfair. I was not an alien going around a sunny suburb killing people. That was fictional short story. Jesus. But at the same time, it did kinda plant an idea in my fifteen year old head that went, ‘Hey, maybe I could be a writer one day.’ And … there you go.

[kevinsreviewcatalogue]

Review: After Hours (1985)

After Hours (1985)

Rated R

<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2023/06/review-after-hours-1985.html>

Score: 4 out of 5

After Hours is not the movie I was expecting. Between its director, its cast, its '80s New York setting, and the fact that Popcorn Frights screened it a couple of weeks ago, I expected a dark, downbeat noir thriller with horror touches, and perhaps one of Martin Scorsese's lesser films given that it came from his period in the '80s when he'd lost the approval of critics and audiences. Instead, I was surprised at just how funny the film was, albeit going in a very different, darker, more Kafkaesque direction with its humor versus what we often associate with the R-rated '80s comedies that it only superficially resembles. It's a film born from a successful filmmaker who was at a low point in his life and career, and damn well knew it, channeling all of his frustration with his struggle to get The Last Temptation of Christ made into a story of a man having the worst night of his life as everything that can go wrong, does go wrong, often in such a manner where you can't help but laugh and cringe at the same time. It's one of the darkest versions of this kind of movie to exist, don't get me wrong, but that movie is a hilarious, surreal, gut-busting comedy that I absolutely enjoyed.

Our protagonist Paul Hackett is a yuppie in Manhattan who inputs data at a firm and longs for more out of life. One night, while at a diner, he meets Marcy Franklin, a beautiful woman who tells him that her roommate Kiki Bridges is a sculptor who makes plaster-of-Paris paperweights, and leaves him her number, ostensibly in case he wants to buy one but really because she's into him. Later that night, Paul obliges and heads down to Marcy and Kiki's apartment in Soho, in what turns out to be the beginning of a series of events involving a dead body, a pair of burglars who for once weren't carrying stolen merchandise, a bartender who's lost the key to his register, a punk nightclub, a vigilante mob, and a whole lot of really weird women.

It's the kind of night that feels absolutely cursed, an experience that most of us can probably relate to even if the threat of death never came up for us the way it has for Paul by the end of this movie, and Paul's actor Griffin Dunne does a great job of selling it. Dunne plays Paul as a man bored with life, the film opening with him doing perhaps the most soul-sucking office job you can imagine. You understand from the moment you see him why he might run off into Soho in the middle of the night, simply on the promise of meeting a beautiful woman. As the film goes on, he grows to regret his decision in increasingly bewildered and desperate fashion as the city tortures him with every indignity it can throw his way and uses him as its own personal chew toy, from little things like losing a $20 bill to some outright wacky stuff, slowly but surely sinking into madness as he goes. Each new scene makes you wonder how the city is going to fuck with him this time, like an old-school point-and-click adventure game that throws all manner of increasingly bizarre obstacles in the way of what should be a simple goal. "If I want the keys to my apartment back, I've gotta go to the bartender's apartment, but there are burglars on the loose and the other people there don't know me, so they think I'm a criminal..." Given the hell he was going through at the time, it was no wonder Scorsese saw something in Joseph Minion's screenplay.

And the movie wouldn't have worked as well as it did if not for how Scorsese once again made New York the other main character. In this case, it's not a bustling metropolis, but a place in the wee hours of the morning (after hours, if you will) where the streets are deserted and the people you do meet are more likely to be the freaks and the weirdos. I can easily picture the version that Tim Burton (the director originally attached to this) might've made, and it probably would've been an inventive film in its own right, but Scorsese fuses that style with his own background as the guy who defined the image of 1970s/'80s New York on the big screen, creating a slightly askew version of his usual "gritty realism" where it feels like anything bad can happen, and not just the things you hear about in the next morning's headlines. It feels like a place that hates Paul and wants to see him suffer for the sake of its own amusement, and Scorsese, filming a New York devoid of traffic, makes the place simply feel wrong, like a maze designed for his torment.

The supporting cast, too, nails it. Being among the few people in the neighborhood who live their lives at night, they're strange even for the standards of New Yorkers, from Linda Fiorentino's kinky artist Kiki to Catherine O'Hara's stuck-in-the-'60s ice cream truck driver Gail to Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong as the small-time crooks Neil and Pepe. Most importantly, however, as Paul interacts with all of them, we get perhaps the most uncanny element of this film's upside-down New York: a place where everybody seems to know each other, like a small town that just so happens to be nestled in the middle of Manhattan. People who don't treat each other as total strangers? Now that's how you know something's wrong in the Big Apple, especially if you're an outsider. It adds to the feeling that Paul's night has gone completely sideways, like something has not only gone totally wrong ever since he stepped out of his apartment into the wild world of New York's nightlife, but has been totally wrong since long before he entered the picture, like he wandered into something that by all logic shouldn't exist in the middle of the City that Never Sleeps but does so anyway. It builds to an ending that arrives suddenly, but feels like the perfect punchline for everything we just witnessed.

The Bottom Line

I was not expecting After Hours to be the movie it was, but I'm glad I got to see it. Martin Scorsese and the cast together do a great job lending a very off-kilter black comedy feel to his usual style, and I had a great time watching it.