#you could argue they collect scraps of humanity?

[thehotelpod]

got no idea if we can ask these things, bud did you guys ever give the crew small quirks or little hobbies ( aka the owner always wanting to learn opera or the manager possibly wanting to learn how to race , just spit ballen)

i love being asked these things and talking about my little goblins.

they don't super have...interests? the Hotel built them to be what they are and want what they want so they kinda just want to work and kill and stuff. (the New Crew their monstrous mirror, streamlined to murderous perfection)

but as the pattern becomes more intricate and subtle, being swept away is no longer enough, as they say, and pretending to be human started to feel real. but 'real' means nothing to dreams who know the dreamer.

mostly they just collect little things. (The Manager and her reservations cards! The Owner has a whole computer/file system on the 3rd story sometimes. this season the Lobby Boy even has his little mall bag and his stuff...did that happen yet actually? that might be...lllater but yeah they collect what they can.)

[blkkizzat]

❝ AITA FOR ACCIDENTALLY GETTING MY ANCIENT SORCERER BF HIGH? ❞

MODERN ERA TRUE!FORM SUKUNA X READER

» thread [summary]: Sukuna just ate all your edibles and is now more lit than Tokyo Tower—great. Now you have to fuck his high n' grumpy ass calm before you're the one that's actually fucked.

» upvotes [wc]: 11.9k » awards [cw]: true form sukuna, crack fic 110%, dr*g use, accidental dr*gging, slight dubcon, sub!sukuna, cunnalingus, fingering, whiny!sukuna, riding, twin-cock sukuna, nipple teasing, lots of banter, spanking, bimbo!reader, pussy smacks, frottage, premature ejaculation, creampie, breeding fantasies, rimming, cum eating, femdom, uncut/uncircumcised, high n' sassy sukuna, bondage, lots of teasing, and bits of fluff . » mod comments [a/n]: part of the 'we be burnin' JJK 420 collection (ill make a series post eventually i swear lol). I had the goal of keeping this under 12k and i made it! by 44 words. this was supposed to be a 5k fic but I got carried away because I love exploring modern day tf!sukuna x reader relationship so lots of banter and tid bits.

Enjoy!

Ok girl. Deep breaths. You got this! 

Standing in front of the large shoji door to Sukuna’s quarters, any nerve you build quickly dissipates by the time you raise your hand to knock.

SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!  

Swaying on your feet, suddenly, you don’t feel so sober anymore. Well, technically you weren’t even sober to begin with—far from it actually, you'd just started the come down from some pretty powerful edibles.

Edibles which happen to be the source of all your troubles now. 

You thought Sukuna leaving, for what you assumed would be a few days, would be the perfect opportunity for you to get completely zoinked off your ass—and that's exactly what you did.

Yet, unbeknownst to you, his plans had changed and he had returned home only after a day.

So when you finally awoke from your weed-induced power nap to discover Uraume had served Sukuna the remaining of the matcha and adzuki manju edibles you had made, you just about fell out.

Uraume had given Sukuna all three dozen of them. 

You didn’t even intend to make so many, but you accidentally doubled the recipe for weed butter and you weren’t about to let good product go to waste. Not with how tough it was to find good weed in Tokyo with it being illegal and all.

But fuck! 

You can’t recall a single time Sukuna ever enjoyed human food—more sated by human flesh instead. 

Yet from what Uruame told you he had already eaten at least five of them already.

Who knew The Curse King had such a fucking sweet tooth?!

Of course, Uraume blamed you once you explained. And true, while you did make the edibles, you certainly didn’t tell their ass to serve them to Sukuna!

Uraume scoffed at you though, claiming anything in Sukuna’s palace belonged to Sukuna—including you and whatever you happened to bake. 

The pompously dull scolds Uraume gave went in one ear and out the other as you rolled your reddened eyes. Eyes which immediately turned into a panic when Uraume demanded it be you, not them, to check up on Sukuna.   

That was the whole reason why you are even in front of Sukuna’s door right now sweating fucking buckets. 

Especially, since Uruame made the utterly insane accusation of you attempting to poison Sukuna. 

You tried to argue that Sukuna is immune to toxins—but Uraume wouldn’t listen to any of that. 

Hell, If you thought you could take Uraume in a fight, even in a more sober state, you would have literally scrapped with their ass before you agreed to check on a possibly high Sukuna. 

Who knows what kind of nefarious time The King of Curses would be on while high!?

Uraume is the one who is his attendant and also fed him the edibles!

They should be the one to go!  

But you also aren’t an idiot. You know for a fact Uraume would hand you your ass and then force you to go check on him anyway. No sense in getting unnecessarily bagged up when Sukuna himself might actually kill you.

So here you were, in front of his door dreading what might be waiting for you on the other side. 

“Woman! You are annoying me more by just standing out there, come-in or fucking leave.”

Piercing your thoughts, Sukuna’s gruff command booms through the door with enough force to make you take a few steps back.

Okay maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad?

He sounded normal enough. 

No one high could still be this grumpy.

Sukuna is The King of Curses after all. 

Something as simple as a mere plant shouldn’t have any affect on him, right?

Steeling yourself, you slide open the door to his chambers. 

You make a mental note to fire your therapist, as the deep meditative breathing patterns they recommended does fuck all to temper your increasing anxiety in this situation.

Peering into the room before you enter, you see Sukuna propped on his side atop the wooden engawa patio leading to his private gardens. His nose seems to be buried in some ancient text you can't quite decipher from this distance.

Well, he looks normal enough too—from what you could tell at least.

You walk towards him but Sukuna makes no acknowledgement to greet you. 

However, if you could see his face, you would see the amused evil that pulls up at the corner of his lips. 

Sukuna can sense your uneasiness radiating off of you in waves. 

You’d not been this distressed to be in his presence in quite some time and yet you still sought him out—something you rarely did—even in a good mood. Typically, you’d only come to him when he called for you or when you wanted his cock. 

You had to want something from him—and a slut like you was never shy about asking for dick. 

Interesting.  

Sukuna knew you hated having to humble yourself to ask anything of him, so he took great pleasure in teasing you for it when necessity meant you could no longer delay your request.

Whatever you wanted, Sukuna certainly wouldn’t make it easy for you.

Where would be the fun in that?

And neither would your own body, apparently, make this situation any easier. You nearly trip over your own feet as the paranoid side effects of your high reaches full throttle.

Your eyes growing wider with each step forward.

The vision of the tea set next to him along with the plate of your manju edibles—the now almost empty plate—confirms your fears.

Only one solitary piece remained.

Nervously, you kneel near Sukuna’s feet, your back perfectly straight and your arms extended in front of you. Forcing yourself into an overly formal position to avoid fidgeting any more than you already are.

A tense silence settles between you both—well, tense for you. 

Sukuna seems perfectly content to bask in your discomfort. 

You swallow, unsure how to start.

Even if he wasn’t a malevolent ancient cursed sorcerer, telling someone they’ve been accidentally dr*gged was never going to be a pleasant conversation. 

Although, you still do your best to be covert in your inspection of him—no sense in telling him he’d been dr*gged at all if he wasn’t actually high.

Sukuna on the other hand is growing impatient with your nervous energy. 

When he finally speaks, you’re nearly jumping out of your own skin. 

“Why are your eyes so red, brat? Don’t tell me you’ve been fucking crying again? Is the time of your moon cycle upon us already?”

Did this man for real just ask you if you were on your period!?!?

Exhaling deeply out of your nose, you give him a polite, yet clipped, reply.

“Just allergies, m’lord.”

You wanted to tell him off so bad but you didn’t want to piss him off more than necessary, considering the circumstances. Besides, you were certain your eyes were red as hell right now from being high for the last three hours. So in order to control your temper, you proceed to gaslight yourself into thinking that, for someone like Sukuna, this was a logical assumption to make.

The thought stops you from cussing him out at the very least.

However, Sukuna is astute enough to know you’re lying.

Truthfully, he’d only made the comment to rile you up.  

Not only were you a horrible liar to begin with—but everything from your clenched knuckles, to the way you gnaw on your inner cheek to contain your sass, are all dead giveaways.

Those facts withstanding, Sukuna could tell by the subtle shift in the scent of your intoxicating pheromones alone if you were on your moon cycle or not. 

And it was far too late into summer for it to be allergies.

No, something is on your mind. 

Something you didn’t want to come right out and tell him. 

Not that he tended to care at all about any of your silly concerns, but seeing you had seeked him out in such a frazzled state has him curious.

What other than him could get his favorite lil’ human this upset?

Sukuna immediately loses the little remaining interest he has in his book, all of his interest now focused on you.

His evil grin widens.

“Then is ‘just allergies’ to blame for placing the notion in your dizzy little head that I wanted to be fucking bothered with your presence right now? Or are you telling me ‘allergies’ is a new modern term for sluts wanting dick?”

Son of a bi—and see this is exactly why you actively avoided him when you’re not fucking him! 

Sukuna was obnoxiously insufferable to be around when he wasn’t giving you toe-curling, heart-stopping, vision-blinding orgasms. You surely would have at least tried to escape by now if it wasn’t for that—well, that and the fact he did have a literal palace and you no longer had to have a job or worry about rent, bills and all the other shit you hated about adulting. 

You weren’t treated like a princess but you pretty much had access to everything practical you could ever want. 

Although you were still working on getting a stable internet connection up in the mountains.

Yeah, no, Sukuna wasn’t a bum by any means and you could surely do a lot worse than a mean, forever-grumpy, ancient asshole.

Sigh.

However, as far as you were concerned now, you had two ways you could play this: you could fly off the handle at his intentionally crass insults or you could pay it. 

You choose the latter, knowing he would soon grow bored of you if you just shrugged off his mockery, ignoring him. 

You just need to buy yourself a bit more time to tell for sure if he was high or not. Then you could fuck off and enjoy the remainder of your own high as you wouldn’t be getting stoned for a while now.

Thanks to him eating all your stash.

“Uhhh, no m’lord. I-I just wanted to know how you enjoyed the manju I made. I filled them with matcha and adzuki beans…It was my first time baking them.”

Oh? 

You still wanted to play games?

Sukuna’s gaze darkens at the chance to pick at you more. The more you would lie and beat around the bush the more Sukuna wanted to press your buttons. 

Never getting bored of pissing you off, angering you was his second favorite pastime. You made it too easy to wind you up like a coil until you snapped like a little twig in his grasp. 

All so he had an excuse to do his actual favorite pastime—punishing you. 

Lacking any sort of discipline, you were more of a hot head than he was at times—which was saying something. Sukuna loved to bring you to the very limits of your sanity with his taunting of you. Only so he could watch you helplessly thrash beneath him, frustrated that you could never beat nor overpower him. 

You were a curious little sorcerer who got off on edging death which was apparent from how your fiery anger quickly sparked into shameless arousal, like the massive cockslut you are. You’d be cursing Sukuna to hell before begging him to take you along for the ride.

In turn, Sukuna would bully both of your tight greedy holes, mesmerized by your filthy cunt creaming enough to soil a puddle onto any surface he happen to fuck you on. 

You had to have been a succubus in a past life. 

His sexual appetites were immense but you were nearly insatiable yourself. Fucked out and trembling, with your eyes barely open, you’d never stop pleading him for more until he’d fuck you unconscious. 

Nevertheless, in this lifetime you were a pitifully weak sorcerer in comparison to him—however you could be considered ‘special grade’ if ranked solely on your ability to take dick. 

Truly, your best quality and what has kept you alive thus far. 

At least that’s what Sukuna would tell himself when the thought of you dead leaves him feeling restless and agitated. It’s why he never lets you leave the palace grounds other than with Uraume on their occasional visits into Tokyo. 

Sukuna had deemed you too weak to be left to your own devices outside of his palace.

You were his plaything, to do with as he pleased—and right now, he wanted to make you absolutely lose your shit.

From the way your aura bristled, it was clear you just needed one final push.

And so, Sukuna pushed.

“HA! I could tell—”

On the verge of unraveling altogether, your brow twitches as you count backwards from a hundred in your mind to calm down—another bullshit coping mechanism from your soon-to-be-fired therapist.

100…99…98…

“—thought you filled those manju with horse shit.”

97���9—

Never failing to take the bait, you wouldn’t disappoint him this time either. 

Jumping up, you wobbled on your feet but that didn’t stop you from stomping your foot in indignation with enough force to make the old wooden floorboards creak.

“THEN WHY IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID YOUR BIG HUNGRY ASS PRACTICALLY EAT THREE DOZEN OF THEM!?” 

From the looks of it Sukuna was perfectly fucking fine—like you had figured he’d be. 

This had proven to be a complete waste of your time even checking on him. The brief encounter had done nothing but fuck up the remainder of your high since he wanted to be such an ornery bastard about everything.

Forgetting all about your plan to not piss him off, instead you flip him off, storming away. 

“LIKE THEY DON’T EVEN AFFECT YOU?! WHAT A FUCKING WA—”

Like a blur Sukuna rises as his four arms extend to ensnare you.

However lucky for you, you sense him in time to dod—wait… did you just dodge him!? 

No, that's not right he must have missed.

Huh?

HE FUCKING MISSED!?

Whipping your body around, you face him. 

Your wide confused eyes meet his own puzzled gaze, one that you notice is turning increasingly more red by the second to extend beyond just the color of his pupils. 

You don’t even have the time to appreciate how adorably ridiculous the expression is on him before the realization hits—

—OHHHH SHIT—SUKUNA IS HIGH AS FUCK!!!

He likely hadn’t moved from that spot since he so gluttonously devoured your entire tray of edibles. In turn, as is with the nature of getting high, if you are sitting or laying down while you partake, you often don’t realize exactly how baked you are until you finally stand up. 

And from the looks of it the high had just hit him like a fucking semi-truck.

Sukuna was absolutely lit.

Staggering in his stance, a look of surprise is on both of your features. You were for certain Sukuna would have fallen to the ground if not for his hand catching onto the wall beside him. 

His awkward movements are akin to someone suddenly realizing how bulky and inconvenient it was to be approaching 8-feet-tall with four massive arms.

“O-Ohhhh my god, Ohhhh my fucking god! Y-You can actually get high!?!”

Thoroughly gagged, your hands fly to cover your mouth. Always one for inappropriate reactions at awkward and improper times, you can’t suppress your snorts of laughter as the reality of him actually being high settles in. 

Sukuna on the other hand is currently fighting a losing battle with vertigo to find steady footing. His bloodshot eyes take on a more deadly appearance as his pupils glow red in fury to match. 

“W-What the fuck did you do, woman?!”

Did he just stutter too!? 

Oh shit this was too good. 

You cursed yourself for not having your phone on you, but knew better to bring a phone around Sukuna. He’d broken your phones one too many times because he wouldn’t admit he was more jealous of you paying attention to your talking clock (it was TikTok) than him.

Yet at the same time, his accusations that any of this is your fault piss you off further. 

“ME!? I’m not the one who just smashed over 3000 grams of weed! Pretty sure that much would even take down a fucking elephant!!”

In response, Sukuna growls as his cursed energy discharges off of him in erratic waves. Yet the intensity is not nearly as oppressive as you knew it could be.

The weed is clearly having an effect on him. 

“Watch how you speak to your King, brat. I won’t warn you again.”

Dripping with sarcasm you bow dramatically. 

“Oh no, how could I forget my place, Sukuna! How about you ask next time before you just gobble up all my shit? Then this wouldn’t have even happened!” 

When bickering with him, you often dropped all formalities which always got you into deeper trouble.

“S-SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”

CRACK~!

Wood splintered around Sukuna, falling to the ground in a heap. Sukuna had unintentionally misfired a cleave right through the wall next to you and effectively remodeled his chambers to extend into the next room over.

A few strands of your hair get caught in the crossfires and they float in the air beside you, along with the various debris from the wall. 

It’s becoming quite apparent that while high, Sukuna struggles to keep his immense cursed energy in-check and it fluctuates to match his temper. 

The look of shock on your face mirrors Sukuna's, who is now staring at his hand as if he had grown a sixth finger. It’s not a finger though, it's his eye from the face on his hand, bloodshot and red. That's when Sukuna notices the eyes on his face are also bloodshot, perfectly matching yours.

“ASSHOLE! What if that fucking hit me?!”

“Well, you sure as fuck wouldn’t be alive to be screeching at me right now, woman…”

You were seething. 

How is everyone still treating this like it's your fault!?

“No one told you to eat all my edibles, King Big Back!”

Sukuna growled at your insults even if he didn’t really understand them. 

He was huge—of course he had a big back…? 

Your words, which Sukuna deems nonsensical, only make him dizzier and amplified the almost out of body experience he was currently in. Clearly the fault of your so-called “edibles”, Sukuna couldn’t remember the last time he felt so out of sync with himself as he leaned against what was left of the structure.

Not since he’d first adjusted to being a cursed object in his very first host. 

“Well fuck me then, for not realizing you were brewing poison, witch.”

“Yeah fuck you, because its just a plant! A harmless little plant! Didn’t they have hemp back in your pre-historic era, you old fossil?!”

Sukuna growls at your insults, but nonetheless considers your words.

Of course they had hemp. 

Being practically native to Japan it was utilized in many trades, but this had to be a different variety of the plant. Sukuna never heard of it being consumed, as the plant had more pragmatic uses for clothing and tools. 

“For practical use, woman! Not to make potions and consume like some fuckin’ degenerate.”

Your eyes narrowed. 

Sukuna of all people calling anyone else a degenerate was rich. 

“For the last time Kuna—it's not any kind of poison or potion! You’re supposed to be immune to toxins, remember?”  

Sukuna growls once more. 

True, poisons had no effect on him. 

If what he consumed was in fact just a plant, and nothing imbued with venom nor curses, then perhaps this didn’t make the cut? 

Although Sukuna is sure the after-consumption effect has to be akin to something poisonous, since for the first time in likely what had to be a thousand years, the unfamiliar sensation of nausea crept up his throat.

Stepping back inside his chambers, he teeters unsupported on his feet before dropping down to a seated position. The uncoordinated clumsiness of his actions causes the room to shake, sending more fragments of the now-destroyed wall crumbling around the both of you.

Dare you say it, you kinda… feel bad for him?

Sure you were still pissed at him, and in no way were you about to accept responsibility for this…but in this state he looked sort of, well, pathetic. 

You didn’t think you’d ever be using that word to describe Sukuna, who’d time and again proved to be more fearsome than the beasts of nightmares. 

Yet at the moment he was definitely giving off more sad Hello Kitty vibes, rather than a monstrous primordial tiger. All four eyes on his face were dilated to comical proportions and the tired scowl he wore was more akin to a toddler’s pout.

It was… cute?

Upon further appraisal, as he sits with arms and legs crossed like a child after a tantrum, you decide he definitely looks cute.

And dare you say even—baby girl?

Not like you could ever tell him that though. 

You’re sure if you called him that, no matter how weak and uncoordinated he was now, Sukuna would somehow muster the willpower to wring your head right off your pretty little neck. 

Regardless, having Sukuna be so weakened, even temporarily, was unsettling to say the very least. 

“I-I really didn’t think you would eat them, Kuna. You don’t even like human food!”

Your voice takes on a more apologetic tone as you begin to inch over to him. 

Dropping down on all fours, you cautiously crawl closer bit by bit in a similar fashion as to how one would a wounded beast you were scared might lash out—even if you were only trying to help it.

“I don’t ever fucking recall saying that, brat.”

Sukuna hisses but the fatigue was clear in his tone.  The bite in his words hardly evoked the blood-curdling fear he was so easily capable of under normal circumstances.

Sukuna closes his eyes in exasperation, which consequently has you rolling yours. 

Bulllllllshit!

Every single thing that man tried, he hated!

Well, every single modern thing. 

Oh fuck, they had manju back then too, huh?

Stopping once you are directly in front of him, you peer up at him with big doe eyes, sweet and apologetic.

But Sukuna isn’t falling for it—or he didn’t want to at least. 

Cracking open an eye at you before closing it again, Sukuna turns away from you, nose upturned. 

Urgh, what a big diva! 

You almost want the normal, insanely irritating, Sukuna back instead of the blitzed sassy creature before you—almost.

“Listen Kuna, you did eat a whole shit load... More than any grown ass man I’ve ever seen to be honest…”

You shook your head and mumbled the last part under your breath, ignoring his sassy gripes, as he definitely still heard you.

“Ok, so I have literally zero clue as to how long your high will last… but I mean hmm… why don’t you try RCT?”

Sukuna stares daggers at your sheepish expression. 

You had to be an idiot.

If Sukuna could focus his cursed energy enough for RCT he would have fucking done it already! Not to mention, take his sweet time in punishing you too. However, all that would have to wait until the disorienting effect wore off enough to make that possible.

For now though, Sukuna just wants to be alone.

This 'weed' was having strange effects on him, he is growing inexplicably nervous to be in your presence for some ridiculous reason.

“Leave.”

“Nope.”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes flare and stare you down the best they can through his red-eye squints.

“I gave you an order, brat. I won't ask again.”

Sukuna tried his best to deliver his threats in the bone-chilling tone he was so well known for, but it falls flat, yet again, thanks to him being higher than a pair of perky tits. 

His frown, and thereby his pout, intensifies at his current ineffectiveness.

“I can’t just leave you though, Kuna…”

Thinking him docile enough, you slowly crawl into his lap and thread your arms between the two sets of his own, gazing up adoringly at him. Sukuna allows you to do so without fuss, although he doesn’t return your embrace nor does he look at you. 

His own head swirls too much—especially with how his skin begins to tingle just from the sensation of your warm body pressing against his. 

“You need me! What if we were to get attacked by jujutsu sorcerers right now? I’d have to protect you!”

You don’t even try to suppress your giggles this time when your body is shaken by the disgruntled rumbles from his chest.

“Tch—with the few measly crumbs of cursed energy you do possess, you can’t even protect your own fucking self—”

“Hey!”

“—so if that happens, then were both royally fucked.”

Okay, so you weren’t anything close to a super strong special grade sorcerer. But you think you’d be somewhere around grade 1 now, so you could hold your own against most!

At least enough for you both to escape! 

You’d only really be in trouble if that sexy white-haired blue-eyed sorcerer, Gojo Satoru, showed up. Although from the way he winked at you the last time you saw him, saying ‘you’d be prettier as a Jujutsu High teacher instead of one of Sukuna’s lackeys’, you’re pretty sure if you flirted hard enough you’d be okay at least.

Still, you actually liked living with Sukuna a lot more than you cared to admit. Moreover, ‘Jujutsu High teacher’ would qualify as you having to work an actual job—yeah nah, fuck that. 

You’d stay with your ancient asshole, thank you very much.

Bringing your attention back to Sukuna, who had since closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning, you poked a finger into his cheek.

Sukuna ignores you, but you persist.

Your little finger presses deeper and deeper until a mouth forms on his skin to snap at you, causing you to snatch your hand back before you lose said finger. 

“Worry about protecting yourself, brat! You’re aware when this wears off, I’m going to fucking rip you apart and feed you to the mouth on my stomach limb by limb.”

Unphased, you flirtatiously bat your lush lashes as one of your hands slipped through his robes to caress the spot where his mouth forms. 

“Awe Kuna, if you have the munchies that badly and want me to ride your stomach again—all you have to do is ask. I’ll let you eat me right up.”

His abs clenched ever so slightly from your touch.

“Urgh, woman, you should go enjoy the last hours of your life while you still can…”

His threat dissolves into grumbles, still making no attempt to push you off.

Well, if you were in fact about to go to glory as soon as Sukuna could control his powers again—you might as well enjoy yourself while you still can.

“Yeah, yeah, Kuna—but until that happens just relax, okay?  Let’s have some fun, eh? That’s the whole point of being high in the first place!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes but allows you to push him back to the floor. His body feels so heavy and laying down was so much more agreeable than sitting up in his condition.

Still, he couldn’t see how this out-of-body-like experience could be fun. 

Fun for Sukuna was killing. 

Sukuna enjoyed most of his thrills relishing in the screams of his victims as he bathed in their blood which poured so liberally through his deadly claws. 

He even has a pool of blood for god sake!

Well had—until you nagged him pretty much to death, complaining that you couldn’t be expected to bathe in the garden koi pond. As a result, Sukuna had Uraume restore the hotspring to its original state —if only to get you to shut the fuck up.

Hn, now that he considers it, you are way too much fucking trouble than your crazy-ass, tight-ass, lil’ cunt was worth—his current predicament being the ultimate testament to that.

“This isn’t fun.”

It’s your turn to smirk as you straddle him.

“It will be!”

For me at least. 

You don’t say that last part out loud though.

You’re smiling down at Sukuna playfully, pulling your tank top from overhead to reveal your simple pink cotton bra with little flowers printed on them.

Sukuna, who had since draped an arm over his face, regards you skeptically from under his muscular limb with his lower set of eyes.

“And just what do you think you’re doing now, brat?”

“What does it look like asshole? I’m gonna fuck you.”

“And if I tell your bratty ass to fuck off and die?”

“Well, for one—it’s not like you can stop me. And two—when has me saying ‘no’ ever stopped you?”

You stare down at him sweetly.

“Slut.” 

Sukuna snarls, turning his head in a huff once again.

Checkmate.

This was the ultimate win as far as you’re concerned. 

Sukuna had his way with you entirely when you fucked. He was always in control—of everything. Not that the slutty masochist in you ever minded, but you wanted a turn to be the dominant one for once and control his pleasure.

Hell, if you knew marijuana would have this much of an effect on him you would have given him some sooner! 

Besides, you could tell by the way his robes rose on the lower half of his body he was already feeling its euphoric effects. 

Yet you had no idea just how much. 

Sukuna’s already inhuman perception intensifies the experience a hundredfold. His limbs are heavy, as if the floor might give way, libel to sink into the very earth at any moment.

Staring out into the garden, he could see everything in vividly intense hypervision through his dilated orbs.

Every rustle of the leaves, every movement of even the smallest creatures, and every particle in the air took on a lustrous sheen. All his senses were in overdrive, creating a strange euphoria vibrating through his body, suspending him in time—that is until your honeyed voice snapped him out of it.

“Hi~ Look at me, Kuna~~”

Soft hands cup his large face, bringing his sights back to you. Sukuna emits a disapproving grunt, or at least he thinks he does.

He’s not entirely sure. 

With his attention now focused on you, everything else in the world seems to still.

The anxious throbs in his chest seem to prolong each beat, as if his heart might stop altogether. Sukuna concludes that these palpitations and irregular rhythms must be a side effect of the plant.

Has to be.

It certainly wasn’t the way the light of golden hour shimmered on your skin so radiantly, like an otherworldly ethereal creature only seen at dusk—making him feel like he was the inferior mortal in your presence. 

“Don’t float away on me…”

Your voice, filled with angelic mirth, tickles his ears while your fingers gently card through his hair.

Sukuna bites his tongue, drawing out thick, viscous red liquid to suppress the needy purrs bubbling in his throat from your doting caresses.

How could he be the one to float away when you had the appearance of one who had descended from the sky? 

Sukuna's lower set of hands unconsciously brace your thighs like a vice, as if to anchor you and prevent you from levitating away from him.

Goddamn, if not some potion, you had to have cast some twisted spell. 

Everything about you right now was enthralling to him.

Has your skin always been this silky?

Sukuna succeeds in remaining quiet, yet fails in keeping his lower half controlled, involuntarily bucking his hips. His eagerness apparent, you rub your clothed mound over his twin cocks that stiffen beneath you.

Your hands skillfully loosen the knots in his obi to uncover his firm abs and ritualistic tattoos already covered in a sheen layer of perspiration.

Sukuna’s breath hitches when your fingernails graze over his sensitive exposed nipples. 

“Watch it, brat.”

But he sounds so far away now, you don’t really pay him any mind.

You are lost in enjoying some of the far less intense, but still lingering, effects of your own high. 

Humming a saccharine tune, your head tilts back as you relish the pleasurable strain in your inner thighs just from having them span over his broad pelvis. The melody serves as an accompaniment to the steady rhythm of your hips, unraveling him more by the second.

When your eyes do open again, you observe the strain evident across Sukuna’s sharp features. 

You simper, wondering how long Sukuna could hold on before he fell apart completely underneath you?  

Picking up tips from the royal headache himself on how to press buttons, you taunt Sukuna with your coos.

“Are ya still mad at me, Daddy?”

You’re pouting but your mischief is evident, twinkling brightly behind your eyes.

Sukuna’s own eyes narrowed at your boldness. 

You just loved calling him ‘Daddy’ like the filthy whore you are—lacking in any sort of couth.

This whole situation was infuriating for him. 

And as such, Sukuna wants to be mad at you—to teach you a lesson, to have you meet your death at his own powerful hands—but alas—his own body betrays him. 

Your still sparkling aura exacerbates his intoxicated frustrations along with his more carnal desires as euphoria rushes through him. 

His nostrils flare when the candied perfume of your sinful little cunt—already soaked untouched—saturates the air.

Fucking hell—he could practically taste you on his tongue.

“Just get on with it then, if you think you can, woman—”

Giving your rear a firm smack, Sukuna hurries you along.

“—although, I’m sure your weakling ass will give up and be begging me to fuck you within the first minute.”

You roll your eyes. 

Even in spite of his breath laboring slightly, along with minor twitching spasms of his thighs underneath you—he’s still acting tough.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that. Won’t we, Daddy?”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you hop up to kick off your slippers. You take your time in removing your shorts though, hands sensually sliding them down, giving him a little show. 

All four of his eyes follow the provocative sway of your hips intently, just the same as the one time you showed Sukuna what a lap dance was. 

Of course he’d enjoyed it. 

However, where’d you fucked up was mentioning how your previous lovers had enjoyed it too—because your twerking had lasted all of 20 seconds. Sukuna had then pinned you down, growling as he called you all manners of vulgar slut-whore. The result was you limping for the next 2 days, fuck harder than he ever had previously, angered by the thought of you ever having done that for anyone else.

However, as much as you wanted to take your time torturing him for once, you were too selfish to deny yourself. The thought of you having control when fucking him has you dripping. 

Settling back on top of him, you’re on all fours facing towards his cocks. Giving Sukuna a prime view of your pussy in those cheeky pieces of fabric you called undergarments.

This wasn’t a typical view for Sukuna, who was used to looking down at you when you sucked him off from a kneeling position—so he could see exactly how those fat tears would well in your eyes as he ruined your throat when he forced your head even further down.

But this view wasn’t so bad. The growing wet spot on your panties confirms his nose had been accurate. However, you do look every bit of the fiendish whore that you are, getting so wet for him when he hadn’t even touched you.

You’re in your own world though and you audibly gasp upon peeling back the lower half of his robes. Taken aback by the thick globs of pre that gather at the very tip of his engorged cockheads. His essence pools in the folds of his foreskin until no more fluid could be contained, overflowing down his uncut length. 

You’d never seen him this leaky before.

Your pillowy lips experimentally blow cool air across both tips and Sukuna hisses as his cocks twitch in your hands. Wasting no time, your tongue deviantly flattens as you lick up the trail of dribble that ran down his upper shaft. 

His lower cock was hardly forgotten as your thumb completely uncovers the hidden tip. The well of pre spilling from him allows you to more easily pump his slightly girthier length in circular motions while you continue to salaciously suckle the other.

Sukuna unwillingly rewards you with an audible grunt of pleasure.

“Hnng—Y-You’re a fuckin’ cocktease! S-Suck me right, whore!”

You giggle at his faltering voice and Sukuna smacks your ass in response. His heavy hand still stings your skin even in his weakened state, making you all the wetter. 

For each kitten lick, a slap to one of your plump cheeks rings through his chamber. 

Sukuna is captivated by the way your flesh molds to his touch. He kneads each of your cheeks in his giant hands, leaving them warm and tingling. 

The abuse to your rear goes straight to your pussy. You forget for a second that it's Sukuna, and not yourself, who is supposed to be the subservient one in this situation.

“Hurry up, brat! You seriously think a half-assed job like that is enough for me to cum?”

In response to his provocations, your warm breath salivates over his swollen glands before entirely engulfing his upper cock.

Pulling off of him with a pop you alternate taking the other one into your mouth. Sukuna flinches as you swirl your tongue around his lengths. Vacuuming your lips, you alternate between the two twin cocks.

Sukuna grits his teeth. 

He had taught you to take him completely, although he always forced your throat open. He was genuinely surprised that you could do it on your own, which, to be honest, you probably couldn't have done without the weed relaxing the muscles in your neck and throat.

That’s when you hear it—the tiniest of whines—but a whine nonetheless.

“HA! See!—Kunaaaa, did you actually—”

If you could have seen his face you would have giggled at the pink that lightly dusted his features. Regardless, Sukuna isn’t one to take being bested lightly. 

Sukuna hooks a finger through the crotch of your panties, yanking up roughly. From this angle, the effect only puts tension on your pussy—tugging your panties taunt and compressing your clit. You keen loudly as you release his cocks, no longer able to focus on getting him off.

“FUUHHHHCK!”

One hand keeps your panties pulled taut, another hovers over the most heat of your core, lazily rubbing over your covered entrance. Your ever increasing wet spot has him in a trance like state as it spreads to take over your entire crotch area, dampening his fingers.

RIIIIIIIP!

Sukuna tears your underwear clean off, shredding them, 

Damn. Those were one of your favorite pairs of lounging panties too! 

You're ready to tell him off but you never get the chance as two large fingers bully their way into your pussy, leaving you sobbing.

Even over the vulgar sloshing of your sloppy hole, you can audibly hear a rough moan from Sukuna as your core constricts around his burly fingers. Your hands and knees tremble violently as you struggle to maintain your balance.

Sukuna’s tactile sensations at its peak, he is in awe of how well your gummy walls suck his thick digits in further. The velvety ridges of your cunt was like an incubator of fiery heat—a heat that may even rival that of his own divine flame technique.

“W-Waiiiiiiit—N-No fair, K-Kuna!”

Of course, your pleading slurs go unheeded. 

Like a mortal who had dipped his hand into a heavenly jar of warm ambrosia, the allure of your cunt in his intoxicated state is bewitching to say the very least. Sukuna’s hyperfixation is focused on a single-minded mission to dig out more and more milky nectar from your convulsing lil’ hole.

Your searing walls clench down when a sharp nail grazes your g-spot. Crying out, your eyes sink back into your head and your slick pours down the length of his muscular forearm.

Sukuna enjoys making a mess of you. 

Your fluids splash across his broad chest, arms and a bit even reaches his face—mouth forming on his cheek to greedily lick up your remains.

Even with limited control over his own faculties, Sukuna was still able to turn you into a quivering mess.

Dammit! You were supposed to be the one in control! 

You can only weakly grasp at his cocks as the motions of his fingers switch from languid exploratory strokes to fast pumps, adding a third finger and pressing a thumb into the rim of your puckered hole.

Stirring up your insides, Sukuna, to be frank, isn’t doing it for your reactions but for your pussy’s. 

Mind clouded, Sukuna fully dissociates once again in his enchantment of you, he doesn’t even realize you aren’t sucking him off any longer. He is much too distracted by every response your gooey cunt gifts him.

If anyone had asked him, in his utterly toked state, Sukuna would have sworn your cunt was actually squelching out full sentences. Sukuna, of course —fully fluent in ‘Cuntanese’—understands her with sparkling clarity.

She wanted more, to cum even harder. 

She’s so fucking warm, so creamy, so lewd—all for him.

Becoming more sloppy and unaware in his actions, Sukuna’s growling increases. His current frustrations centered on needing to see more of your creamy slick spurt out of you. 

Somehow all four of his hands are covered in your essence now. The hands with fingers not inside your pussy or rimming your ass, spread your cheeks wider, holding them up as the remaining one pinches your clit crudely. 

Helplessly, ass up, you lay your head down on one of his upper thighs. You drag your nails alongside his hips hoping to disrupt his daze, but on the contrary, it does nothing but spur on Sukuna’s mania further. 

The both of you being high made the situation that much worse. 

Sukuna’s fingers drive you towards oblivion, crashing into ecstasy. The edges of your vision smoldered, blurring your sight. You aren’t sure if the sun had finally set and the stars you saw were in the sky or behind your own lids, momentarily disassociating from pure pleasure. 

With a scream, you cum for the second time, your eyes locked behind your skull and your legs spasming as waves of pleasure make your hips twitch uncontrollably.

Holy fuck!!! You’d never cum that hard while high before! 

Sukuna finally snaps out of his enthralled reverie, only to discover you’ve been reduced to a mere puddle on his torso. Your holes are agape and swollen from his brutality, glistening with fluids that hadn’t stopped dripping onto him yet.

You practically see his smug grin, a fang poking out from his lips, just from his smarmy tone.

“Heh—giving up that easy just from a couple fingers in your cunny, brat? Thought you were gonna fuck me?”

You whine. Even if his own voice sounded a bit strained it was nothing compared to your own condition. Yet despite your rubbery limbs, you muster the strength to push your jellied body up—determined to have your way with him. 

Sukuna chuckles at your persistence.

The mouth on his stomach opens to lap away at the remains of your squirt on his torso and your slick-coated thighs. The thick slimy tongue has you jolting forward with a rippling moan when it flicks over your sensitive clit.

“Heh, woman, you look like shit.”

HA! How are you going to fuck him when you could barely be touched without shaking? 

Sukuna guess you’ll be tapping out before the first round is over, tch—of course you’d need him to take over. 

Testing his condition, Sukuna raises his head only to be immediately slammed with vertigo rushing psychedelic colors behind his eyes. He curses lowly to himself, still pissed the plant is having this much of an effect on him.

Sukuna makes a promise to himself that he will in fact kill you, iif you leave him blue balled because of this. The high causes his cocks to ache more than ever.

“Tch—If you’re going to do it, then do it. Fuck me then, ya nasty lil’ slut.”

Sukuna was right, you are a slut.

Fucked out by his fingers or not, your still aching pussy wouldn’t be satisfied until she was stuffed full of him.

But it would still be on your terms.

Sukuna looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to move and feigning boredom. 

However, his mood turns to annoyance though when he notices you only plan to take his bottom cock, he didn’t work that ass of yous ass open for nothing. 

“BRAT—”

“—SHUT IT and let me concentrate if you wanna get your nut!”

You do quiet him though, once you manage to squeeze his thick cockhead into your cunt. Pussy clenching around his tip like a vacuum suction, you hear Sukuna slurp a thick wad of spit through his teeth as he grinds down on them. 

It was cute, him trying not to react to you, That serves as enough encouragement to keep you from mentally succumbing to the monstrous girth entering you—for now at least.

Easing yourself lower on his fat girth, you’re panting, tongue out and hips quivering just from getting the head of him inside.

You’d learned to take him well enough, but that was when he was the one bullying himself into you. Having to mount him yourself was daunting to say the least. Only halfway in and your guts are shifting while moisture burns the corners of your eyes.

This was the exact reason you chose not to take in both his cocks. 

You would struggle enough with just one of them. 

His cock inside you, already pressed against your cervix, he is almost 3/4ths in and you have no idea how you will manage the rest. Suddenly wondering if Sukuna uses some kind of curse technique to fit all of him inside you without skewing your organs.

“Shiiiiit, f-fuckin’ dummy thick monster c-cock, this b-big for no f-fuckin’ reason…”

You mumble to yourself, clearly floundering.

Sukuna smirks at your labored efforts but his mask cracks as you finally surrender to gravity and bottom out on him—the resulting cry from him is somewhere between a growl and a whine. 

That was the end of resistance for Sukuna. 

His ultra-sensitive cock twitching in the sweltering embrace of your gummy walls, convinced his dick might melt off then and there—the heat, he decided, was most definitely hotter than his divine flames.

Once nside you, Sukuna returns his bruising grip to your hips. His trembling fingers betray the fact he still doesn’t have the capacity to regain control anytime soon. 

Exhaling your own shaky breath, legs under you, you lean back. One of your arms reaching back to plant on his muscular thigh, the other pressing his unattended shaft into the soft curves of your belly, adjusting yourself so its base brushes up against your clit. 

Your warmth welcomes his unsheathed cock like a soft pillow and he’s biting his lips again, blood trickling down his chin.

Although he’s still leaking more than enough pre for lubricant, you still dip your head forward momentarily to drop a large wad of dribble on the cock nestled against your curves. 

Your perverse acts are the cherry on top for Sukuna, who keens out a moan so loud, so needy and pathetic, it has your own toes curling. Fueling you to milk more from him as you bring down your hips harder, morphing The Curse King to goop beneath you.

Your own whimpers are just as obscene from the sight of his length extending past your belly button. It was surreal to see a distinct outer visual of just how deep his inner cock is inside you, you could feel them press together through your skin.

God, he was nearly in your ribs.

“S-Shiiiiiiit—M-MOVE! Ya f-fuckin’ dumbass brat!”

Sukuna yells at you, speech slurring, as his nails prick into your skin slightly. 

You chose not to sass him this time though, too needy for it as well. 

Establishing a rhythm, if you had the capacity to imagine anything beyond how his cock was spearing you open between your thighs—you might have mused that any curses in his palace—Uraume especially, must be absolutely terrified at what has their fearsome master is sobbing so wretchedly.

You’re thrilled at the idea of having transformed the most powerful cursed sorcerer into the crumbling virgin-like man beneath you. 

You feel your body tremble as his swollen member throbs intensely inside you, causing you to sense the rhythmic pulsation of his heart resonating deeply within your being. Sukuna's face, usually composed, now displays an unexpectedly stressed expression, which only adds to his adorableness.

Yet, your own eyes were crossing so bad you couldn’t even enjoy your victory like you want. 

Desperately moaning, you’re lifting yourself up and down, riding him in earnest as you fuck yourself dumb on his huge girth. Just one of Sukuna’s cocks were so intoxicating and you realized, the privilege of actually having him fuck you instead of you doing the work.

In order to guarantee both of your pleasures. 

But you are hardly giving up—slippery fluids create delicious friction as his top cock also slides over your swollen clit.  Your tits bounce lively every time your tight soggy pussy devours his cock back down to the base. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room, only overshadowed by Sukuna's unusual cries of pleasure. 

Your inner thighs ache from exertion but you are in the zone now. You’ve willingly become your own torturer as you impale yourself on him. 

Mind floating away as you treat his cock thrusted against your belly like a fidget toy. Your nails mindlessly rim the edges of his foreskin before grasping the tip of his cockhead, sliding the last bit of skin down to fully expose his angry bulbous tip. You squeeze him tightly while your other hand comes from behind you to pump the base. 

While Sukuna’s lower hands still desperately hang on to your hips, he's since thrown one of his upper hands over his face much to his chagrin. The other, claws fully extended, proceeds to tear up the tatami matting of his floor. 

Sukuna’s pitchy whimpers and badly suppressed whines have you so hot you forget yourself once again. Chasing your own pleasure, you pump his upper cock like slippery reigns as you ride him. 

And that is exactly what breaks him. 

Peeking out from under his forearm, Sukuna observes how your head is like a bobble, lulling with your movements as your slackened jaw so dumbly seeps drool down your body. All thought leaving your silly little head, babbling nonsensical coos and praises for his big cock ruining you.

Despite not being in control, Sukuna still feels a strange wave of warmth spread in his chest from watching you fuck yourself completely fucking stupid on him. The feeling instantly has his balls tightening, resulting in his upper cock twitching so violently that it even catches your fucked out attention. 

You glance down just as his engorged length finally relieves itself, spurting out a geyser of cum all over you.

Sukuna releases a moan that is husky, deep and guttural—quite literally guttural—as he had just moaned from the mouth on his stomach. His upper cock is still spraying a hefty load of cum that covers your stomach, thighs and some even shooting up to hit you right below your eye. 

Your eyes widen.

“Did you just moan from your tummy!?”

You’re hardly in the position to tease him though, disheveled and covered in his sticky essence.

You were quite the mess in your own right—heh, but you still weren’t the first to cum! 

Sukuna glares at you, panting through his scowl with watery eyes.

Leaning forward, you continue to taunt him, keeping your hand firmly around his now flaccid member. Sukuna flinches and hisses, attempting to swat your hands away, but he finds himself even more weakened than before, unable to pry you away.

“Hmm, are you trying to tell me you prefer my hands over my pussy?l Or are you just this much of a slut for getting your nasty foreskin played with, Daddy?”

His lower cock pulses at your words, still painfully hard inside you, reminding you of your own needs. You don’t wait for Sukuna’s response before you’re back bouncing on him with increased fervor, pulling at your neglected tits and still giving him shit.

“C’mon Daddy, talk to me. You love it when your lil’ slut rides you while she’s all sticky, covered in your cum, yeah?”

For emphasis your fingers swirl shapes into the streaks of spunk on your belly, sloppily writing out the Kanji for “Sukuna” over your womb.

Sukuna’s face beet red from the anger and shame of having been reduced to a mere plaything for you.

Writing his name on you with his cum!? Fuckin’ debased, foul, nasty wh—

“Oh my, you’re backed up, Daddy. I can feel you twitching—a-ah!”

You snap him out of the turmoil of his thoughts with the lazy lust-filled evil saturated in your voice as you moan out more torturous, mind melting words for Sukuna.

“Y-ou’re gonna have to tell me before you cum, Kuna, kay? You spray this much inside me, with this thick monstrous cock of yours—you’ll get me pregnant, ya know. You wouldn’t want that—or do you?”

Your fingers play in his essence on your belly once more, circling the Kanji cum scribbles of his name branded on your skin. 

“Bet ya wanna fill my tight lil’ pussy to the brim—force me to carry your lil’ curse-spawn-terrors—make you a real daddy, Daddy. You’d like that, huh?”

Sukuna’s sweat slicked hands struggle to hold onto you, throwing his head back so he doesn’t have to look at you. 

He can’t keep you in his sights as he can’t stop the vision of you, being completely made his—belly full of his growing seed and tits full of milk—from invading his mind. 

Dizzy, Sukuna can only think with his cock as you ride him towards nirvana. He’s almost at his greatly diminished limit again, his stamina now a joke of his usual.  

Chasing your own high, you rub at your clit vigorously while you grind yourself against him. Your pussy spasming around his length that stretches you so well. Body wrecking itself with pleasure, your cries grow louder and more desperate.

So close. You’re so close. So clo—

But Sukuna is first yet again—crooning out a choked roar as he cums again, this time inside you.

With no warning....asshole.

Nevertheless, the satisfying warmth of his seed bursting against your cervix has you moaning from the overwhelmingly full feeling in your guts. Creampie frothing out of you, gathering at the base of his cock. 

You were low key surprised that you were able to goad him into doing it at all. You weren’t seriously trying to get pregnant—just tease him a bit. You didn’t know he’d be this into breeding fantasies, as even though you are on birth control Sukuna for damn sure didn't trust any human pill to stop his cursed seed, always pulling out.

“W-Woah, this makes it, what? The second time you’ve cum before me—and inside me now too!”

The streaks on Sukuna’s furious cheeks leave behind evidence of the few tears you’d managed to fuck out of him.

“Aweee Kuna, should I call ‘Baby’ now? Only babies cry and cream before Mommy does.” 

Sukuna chest heaves, staring death at you as he gives you the finger—one of the few modern gestures he’d picked up. 

You laugh, although your body winces as you slide his thick softening member out of you. 

Globs of your shared fluids drip out of you and onto his torso when you finally will yourself to stand-up over Sukuna, smugness radiating in your whole demeanor.

Desiring to remove that smug expression from your face, as well as your head, he cannot recall a time when he was defeated to such an extent since he was last imprisoned and his fingers were scattered.

Teetering on your cramping legs, you delight in your victory nonetheless. Taking your time in soaking up the image of him, grumpy, soiled, and flaccid, imprinting it in your mind to throw it in his face the next time he decides to get sassy with you.

You know he’s likely going to kill you for what you were about to do, but you’d never get a chance to do something like this again. 

Besides, he surely has weed dick now given his still flaccid cocks and you still need to come!

Sauntering to stand by his head, your soft foot presses down on his clavicle, prompting Sukuna to bare his teeth while a clawed hand comes to wrap around your ankle.

“Heel, Kuna. You still have to make me cum.”

“I don’t have to do fucking shit but make good on my promise to rip you apart once this bullshit wears off.”

You pay him no mind as your foot shifts to raise his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze while your fingers swiftly glide up your inner thighs to spread your pussy lips. His cum still trickling out from the creamy plug that is visibly filling your center. 

“Eat it.”

Sukuna looks at you skeptically, like you just lost the little remaining sanity your crazy ass had in the first place.

Who the fuck did you think you were?

To one—have him take a command from you, and two—actually think he’d let you dominate him in such a way.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Sit on my stomach and I might let you cum, brat.”

“Nuh-uh, Kuna—I wanna ride your actual face. It’s the least you can do after you came before me twice!”

Trying not to visibly wince, Sukuna was so over your nagging and constant reminders of how weak he was while high, trying to tune you out. 

“...and then inside me without warning—like you don’t give a fuck if I happen to get pregnant!”

“I don't, get pregnant.”

“I—wait…WHAT?!”

You must have heard wrong. 

Sukuna would want a lobotomy before a kid. 

He always pulled out. 

He just did not tell you to get pregnant.

No way!

Sukuna growls, he’s admittedly getting tired, but it's clear you wouldn’t give him any rest until you came once more. Well, at least with a mouth full of pussy he couldn’t say anymore wildly embarrassing shit he didn’t mean.

He really didn’t want kids, but picturing you pregnant made his dicks so unfathomably hard in the moment, it was confusing, not to mention infuriating. However, the last damned thing Sukuna wanted to do was talk about his slip up.

Left with no choice but to eat you out nasty enough for you to forget all about it.

“I SAID—If you don’t want to get pregnant, then park that ass of yours on my face, bitch.”

You bristle at Sukuna calling you a bitch, yet you let it pass once all four of his arms yank you down to sit you directly on his face, his tongue plunging straight into your gooey cunt.

And true to his skills, the conversation was the last thing on your mind, having been scrubbed of all thoughts once you felt his hot mouth consuming your sensitive flesh. 

Sukuna's tongue traces torturous circles on your clit, before grazing it with sharp canine, prompting your hands to delve into his unruly locks. The grunts that escape Sukuna's lips as you tug on his hair intensify the pleasurable tingling in your pussy, compelling you to pull even harder.

To your delight, what his primary tongue lacks in girth compared to the one on his stomach, it makes up for in dexterity. Sukuna laps, swirls and twists through your folds. His tongue darts in and out of your wet slit so vulgarly leaking his cum, sending tremors up your spine.

Choking on your whimpers, your hips can’t stop shaking and Sukuna has to brace your thighs down to keep you in place. Sukuna wasn’t about to let you run from it now, not after all the shit you put him through.

You begged to cum in his mouth—so you are going to cum in his fucking mouth.

You cry out when a hand reaches up to manhandle your chest, pinching at your nipples and rolling them between his gruff fingers.  The pair of hands on your thighs move to your ass, gripping your flesh overflowing in his grasp.

Gasping, your mouth falls open, when his fingers massage your ass, spreading it open as he tilts you back to spit into your hole. Replacing his own mouth with one on his hand as he returns his attention back to your savory lil’ cunt.

Shiiiiiit!

Feels so good, you’re so close to cumming again. Your body trembles, the fire inside you spreading from your core to your fingertips as your face contorted in pleasure.

“Su-S-Sukuna, pleeeaseee, Daddy.”

You’re not even sure what you are asking for at this point, you just want more of it. 

More of everything.

Sukuna, obliges you. 

Losing himself in your lust, his panting becomes more wet and ragged. He’s painfully aroused once again, this time simply from listening to your whiney pleas. Sukuna’s tongue digs into your cunt deeper, scooping out his own cum and devouring it along with the continuous flow of your own fluids gushing out of you.

Your taste is much sweeter, cutting the unpleasant taste of his own salty spunk, so Sukuna relentlessly sucks more out of you. 

Sukuna is so caught up in giving you pleasure, he’s completely unaware of the fact he’s now humping the air, cocks flinging pre on his abs as they sway against the imaginary friction.

“K-Kuna, I’mma—shiiiiit—cum!”

You clench a fist full of his hair, nails digging into his scalp. You continuously buck your hips forward, your clit brushing agonizingly up against his nose. Quivering, glorious waves of pleasure wash over you, Sukuna knows all your pleasure spots as he easily takes you to the very heights of your ecstasy.

Sputtering moans nonsensically, you nearly slip off Sukuna completely when you tilt back too far. You unintentionally end up choking him as you catch yourself by grasping onto his neck for support.

Sukuna, caught off guard, gags. The intense vibrations from him choking on your pussy as he heaves for air tips you right over the edge. Your world washes white as you cum, thighs and hips and convulsing. 

Outlasting you this time by a hair, Sukuna cums hard, his milky fluids jetting out from his cocks to spill onto his stomach—shooting up as far as to land on your back.

Dazed from your orgasm you don’t actually realize he'd cum again until you actually slip on the mess he’s made when you begin to climb off his face.

“D’aww, Baby done messed himself bad this time, huh?”

“Perish.”

Weariness seeps through his tone, betraying the fatigue that weighed on him after cumming even harder than the previous two times.

Silence fills the space as neither of you noticed before how the sun had long since set. The soft moonbeams were the only source of light in his chambers, illuminating the space more than usual, due to the now destroyed wall.

Your bones feel like mush but you still manage to grab Sukuna’s discarded robe, using it to somewhat wipe off your bodies. 

Sukuna doesn’t register how intensely he’s staring at you, having dissociated once more. 

His arrogance is replaced by a strange look of infatuation—well strange for him.

Sukuna is lost again, charmed by your shining aura in the lunar light. The very essence of your soul glows iridescently to him, even in darkness.

He muses there’s not a being, human nor curse, as captivating as y—TCH, THE FUCK?!

Whatever you gave him was turning him into a real fuckin’ sap, thats for damn sure. 

Sukuna needed this nightmare to be over, and have neither of you ever speak of it again.

You on the other hand are doing your best to fight the urge to bashfully shrink away. There were typically only 3 emotions that ever appeared on Sukuna’s face: brooding, predatory or straight up hostile.

Him looking at you this way is freaking you out.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Sukuna exhales, exasperated. 

He doesn’t know what to do with you. His troublesome lil’ human that, for some insane reason, he’d formed an attachment to beyond using as a cocksleeve.

“Then you’re a dumb slut who likes to fuck weirdos, brat.”

Shoving your face into his neck, you inhale the scent of his skin and your sex.

“Got me there, Daddy.”

Nibbling up to his chin, one of his arms wrap around you, bringing you impossibly closer when your teeth graze over his sweat slicked Adam's apple. 

Grinning at him, you lick up any of your essence lingering on his face.

“You know, I’m going into the city with Uraume next week—I could get some more of this shit, we could actually smoke it next time, hm?”

“You could also be a corpse scattered in a million pieces by then.”

Although Sukuna’s yawns sound more like roars, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at his displays of weakness any longer. The edible enhanced the stated feelings of the after sex high, amplifying it a hundred fold and making him unusually docile. 

Even if Sukuna could now understand why mortals do this for “fun”, he personally just never wanted near the stuff again—let alone in his fucking palace.

But he’d fight you over that later.

“Moreover, I will literally never eat any of your concoctions again.”

You’re yawning too, the effect being contagious as the question absentmindedly slips from your lips.

“...Hm, s’that so? *yawn* ….Well why did ya in the first place, Kuna?”

Tsk, stupid woman—because you made them, of course.

Sukuna said it in his head. 

Sukuna swore he said it in his head.

But when you immediately bolt upright, eyes expanding like saucers, he knows he fucked up. 

Attempting to recover, he tacks on a brash comment. Remarking on how he knew consuming them all would piss you off—oh and it had—but in this case, the damage had already been done.

Concern flashing across your eyes, you hurriedly brush your fingers through his rosy locks. Picking and prodding, firmly turning his head from side to side, until Sukuna’s own hands entrap yours, pausing your frantic actions.

“And just what the fuck are you doing now, woman?!”

“Checking for stitches.”

Sukuna gives a disgruntled snort, scoffing at your foolishness.

“I’m serious! Kenjaku’s not in there with you, is he?!”

“You must actually think I won’t kill you, brat….”

You giggle softly, satisfied with his answer as you peck tender kisses on his lips but Sukuna is unmoved. 

Sukuna hardly ever kisses you to be fair—but you’d just fucked him to tears! 

The least he can do to repay you is a kiss!

“C’mon Kuna, stick out your tongue a lil’ for me.”

Sukuna stares at you unamused.

“Aweee—Please, Daddy?”

Your words hang in the air, a rebuttal poised on the edge of his lips. 

But upon meeting your bright angelic eyes, Sukuna in a moment of unexpected impulse, closes the gap between you. 

Your lips clash as you breathe in one another. The kiss is less urgent than your earlier cravings, but just as filled with desire. A tumultuous dance of tongues and teeth, fueled by some magnetic pull that would likely never be vocalized in words—yet you still feel everything Sukuna leaves unsaid.

You smile once he allows you to pull back for air, blowing a kiss at him before resting your head back on his chest. Your body easily molds over him and his remaining arms snake around your form.

All of Sukuna’s eyes were closed, the welcome heaviness behind his lids extending down through his entire being.

Honestly, this is the most at peace he’s been in centuries. 

“Mmm…one more question, Kuna?”

Of course, you would be the one to disturb that though.

“Only if you promise to go the fuck to sleep after, brat.”

You nod into his chest, your hands only cupping a tiny part of his biceps as your manicured nails trace along his tattoos.

“How’d they taste?”

Seriously? 

You’re fucking insufferable. 

But Sukuna is way too over it all to fight you right now.  His entire body feels akin to a giant sandbag with every passing second.

“Decent. Now sleep.”

Your shrill squeal has him regretting his compliment immediately. 

“Aweee Kuna, Daddy! You big softie! Next you’ll be telling me you love me, huh?”

Tsk, and this is exactly why Sukuna would fuck you unconscious—so he didn’t have to put up with your nonsensical overly emotional prattling after. The intimacy of pillow talk has him queasier than the vertigo he’d experienced earlier. 

“I loathe you.”

“Love you t—”

Faster than you can react, his powerful hands move, grappling your head down and clamping over your mouth instantly.

“SLEEP!”

Listening to the grumbles resonating in his chest from Sukuna's unintelligible muttered curses, you hum contentedly with his hand over your mouth, a simple ghost of a smile lingering on your lips as you ease into a comforting slumber.

The next morning, you are stirred awake by blinding sunlight.

Still lethargic from the night before, and totally not a morning person, you try to roll over. Yet you find yourself unable to move. 

Huh?

Wanting to rub your eyes clear of sleep, you become aware that your hands, for some reason, are behind your back and are also immobilized.

Panic begins to set in. You fear it might be a bad bout of sleep paralysis—that is, until you hear Sukuna’s dark voice bellow over you sarcastically.

“Oh? What’s this? The lazy whore finally arises…”

Heart pounding anxiously, your bleary eyes open to the vision of Sukuna’s form towering over you next to his bed. 

Ok, at least he had the decency to—

A flash of red catches your eye.

Oh, fuck…

Entangled in the shibari frog-tie position—you are bound in complex knots. The thick silk crimson ropes intricately weave their way around your naked body. 

Tied with seasoned precision, the visually striking pattern of the ropes accentuated your body’s serpentine contours. Knees bent, your plump thighs are spread wide and apart, which secure to your calves. 

You feel a chill run through you as the early morning air breezes past your cunt, fully exposed as the ropes are the only thing adorning you.

Equally excited as you are terrified, your squirms cause the diamond cut pattern to imprint deeper into your supple skin. Shivering under his smolder, goosebumps erupt across your skin and fat tears well on the edges of your eyes.

Sukuna sinks low to crouch over you.

“Now, now—”

His powers fully restored, the depraved smirk Sukuna wears is the most chilling you’d ever seen.

“—you didn’t delude your silly little head into thinking I wouldn’t get my turn, now did you?”

Sukina cups your face, the mouth on his hand savoring your tears.

The harsh reality donning upon you as to how fucked you really are in this situation right now.

Shifting his grasp to squeeze your cheeks, Sukuna forces your mouth open. 

Fully awake, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as Sukuna unveils a platter—the same platter bearing the last remaining manju edible.

“Now fucking say ‘ahh’ for Daddy, brat.”

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

» a/n: what you think of 420 Sukuna? Hopefully it wasn't too long/dragged on? this is meant to be a one shot btw. im really not trying to do a p2 (please, lmfao i cant). i still have a toji 420 fic half written and an idea for nanami but putting those on the back burner to finish another installment of otaku!gojo or nerd geto p2, one of those will be next. i promise! taglist will be in reblogs.

comments & reblogs make my coochie cream

[lavenlady]

Hey hope i caught you at a good time can I request yandere Arcee from tfp rescuing gn Cybertronian reader from Airachnid? I hope you have a great new year🥳

You caught me! Thank you have a great New Year too Anon!🎆🎉

★ Protection ★ | Tfp Yan!Arcee x Gn!Cybertronian!Reader

You have been with the team from the start, mostly interacting with Arcee, Optimus Prime and Ratchet. You weren't built for fighting, instead you were Ratchet's assistant, quite often being sent to a scrap yard to collect pieces of machinery for him to work with. Thanks to being younger and more mobile you could carry a lot of things for an emergency vehicle.

Today Arcee and Jack went to investigate a signal that Ratchet picked up, but after a while Arcee's life signal disappeared and you were sent to investigate.

Walking through the forest in search of any signals you saw in the corner of your optic Jack, who was staring into space.

" Jack! Jack! " You quickly close the distance between you and the boy. " [Y/N]! What are you doing here? " The human replied. " Arcee's life signal vanished. " Not seeing her with her charge, you began to look around for her. " Where is she? Does she require medical attention? "

" I don't know, she started to freak out after checking that ship and went this way after telling me to stay put. " You were visibly confused about what ship he was talking about, but in the end decided to fist check on your teammate. " Alright then. " You extend your servo towards Jack, lowering it to the ground. " Come on, we have a bike to catch. " He quickly climbed into your servo and the chase begun.

You quite quickly catched up to her, but she was engrossed into her fight with a spider-like femme to notice you. Due to the unstable terrain the ground under your pedes crumbled slightly, attracting both femmes attention to the source of sound.

That gave the chance to unknown femme to release herself from Arcee, shooting webs at her and imprisoning her in it.

" ARCEE! " You both screamed, then Jack nearly leaped out of you servo. You quickly place Jack onto the stable ground letting him go to her as you transformed your other servo into a blaster, keeping it at the unknown femme. Arcee using this moment to free one of her servos, transforming it into a blaster and shot the newcomer. She then started to argue with Jack, but that wasn't of your concern, quickly standing in front of them to shield them from possible harm. The spider-like femme finally stood up and started to come closer to you three.

" You sure have trouble hanging on to your partners, don't you " she said looking straight at Arcee. " We both know what happened to Tailgate, but I recently picked up some Decepticon radio chatter regarding the passing of Cliffjumper. " You quickly recognized the designation of your now deceased friend and Arcee's partner. Your not transformed servo visibly clenched as you heard RC quiet gasp and saw the newcomer's grin widen. " At some point you really have to ask yourself Arcee - is it them or is it me? "

" Do you get it now Jack? She is not interested in me, she hunts indigenous species and she is on Earth, that means humans - you! RUN! " After that Jack quickly goes again into the woods. " I will buy you time Jack! " You screamed after him, charging your blaster.

The femme's smile only gets bigger. " Is that so? I wonder how long you will last? Such a pretty face, maybe I will add your helm to my collection? " RC optics visibly widen. " No! Stop! [Y/N] go away! Please! "

You visibly flinch at her pleas, but decided to still hold your ground. The femme started to run with her spider legs towards you. You started to fire your blaster and somehow manage to take out two of them. Sadly that didn't stop her in the slightest as you wished it would. She quickly threw herself at you, sending you into the cliffs walls. While you were dazed she shoot her web at you and successfully disarmed you.

" I must say, I can see why Arcee is so found of you. Maybe I should just keep you for myself, away from Autobots and Decepticons, but that will have to wait. " The femme chuckled as she shot a web onto your dermas to keep you quiet. " I have a human to catch~ " She then proceeded to go after Jack into the forest. " NO! " Arcee screamed with so much rage and fear it probably got heard by the human.

You and Arcee started to struggle against the restraints. She then started to mumble to herself as she fought harder against it. You nearly got yourself free, only your derma and pedes were stuck, but you stopped as you heard transformation sound from RC. She transformed into her vehicle mode and with a new strength tore through the web. She quickly went to your side and helped you to get out. You both then proceeded to speed into the forest to help Jack.

" You shouldn't have done that! What were you thinking?! " Arcee yelled at you. " You are important too RC! I couldn't just leave you there! I am a medical bot! It is my job to help my teammates! " After that she went quiet, as if in deep thought, but still was speeding towards Jack's possible location. " ...Thank you [Y/N]... " She answered softly. You were slightly taken back by this change in behavior. " No need RC. "

You soon spot the other femme about to attack restrained Jack. Arcee swiftly transformed back and attacked her. As they started to fight you quickly turned your attention to Jack, helping him to get free.

After finally kicking Arachnid into multiple trees and weakening her, RC turned to check on you and Jack, then walked closer to the former Decepticon. Leaning down towards her face-plates and seething with venom as she spoke quietly to her. " [Y/N] is mine. They are mine to keep. I will only let you off this once, but remember, the next time they won't be there - " Arcee shoves her blade towards Arachnid neck-cabling. " I will get my revenge. " With that she stepped away and turned to check on you and Jack.

" Jack, are you okay? " Asked Arcee worried as she looked at him with him sitting in your servo. " Yeah. Of course, survival kit. " Smiled Jack as he showed her the survival kit. After that Arachnid startled by the Autobots previous words decided to escape by drilling out a tunnel under herself.

" So much for closure. Now Arachnid is stuck here on Earth. " Jack looks into the tunnel. " I am not sure that is such a good thing. " Arcee looks at Jack and then slowly turns her optics to you. " I'm sorry you both had to face my demons today. " She then smiles lightly. " You were pretty fearless there. "

" Actually, I was terrified, for you. " Arcee and Jack smile at each other. You then fake a cough. Both of them turned to you in slight confusion.

" I think I missed a chapter there, could someone kindly explain who exactly that was? " You grinned lightly. Arcee chuckled softly. " I will, if you will carry me back, I am quite tired after today. " You playfully roll your optics at her as you lightly place her onto you shoulder-plate and continue to carry Jack in your servo. " Ratchet requesting groundbridge - " She looks playfully at Jack who tries to swat away mosquitoes. " Need to get my partner and friend far away from any oversized insects. " Jack looks at Arcee. " Partners huh? " She only smiles as she traces her digits on your helmet. " Junior partner, I can still pull rank. " All of you then peacefully wait for the groundbridge to appear to take you back to base.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

( Based on season 1 episode 12 )

( Hope you liked it! )

(Master list)

(Request away!)

[aspparticune]

I realized something about Generation Loss that made me love it even more. Someone else has undoubtedly already thought of something like this but I’ve seen no other posts about it so I’m just gonna imagine that I’m clever okay here we go✨

During the finale when Ranboo was tied up to his crucifix, Hetch told him that when the mask had been off during the events leading up to that point, Ranboo had been fully in control of himself. Ranboo protested, saying it had been Showfall making the fatal decisions, that he was being controlled by them and had no choice. It was true that Ranboo, even while in control when the mask was off, didn’t realize exactly what was happening. It’s not like those moments of lucidity were ever long enough for them to figure out how to change anything. But they were still moments of lucidity. Tiny scraps of free will that Ranboo was given. And the choices made in those moments didn’t save anyone, but who knows? Maybe they could have, if Ranboo had played his cards differently. Ranboo argued that he didn’t have a choice, that there was nothing else that could have been done; he was horrified by the blood on his hands but denied that he could have changed the outcomes.

The day after the finale, CC!Ranboo told us on stream that there had indeed been an ending planned for if the majority had voted live, and they told us what it was, debunking the theories that the ending was always going to be death no matter what. They confirmed that the votes hadn’t been rigged, that the outcome was 100% true to viewer votes. After all, their goal, the very experiment that gave this Generation its name, was to see if we as a collective would actually vote to kill somebody. And just as they’d been hoping, we did. If you really want to see whether the majority would vote for death, you wouldn’t rig the vote because you’d never get your answer. That final vote was a test of our human psychology; we were the subjects of the social experiment. And yet there were still posts being made weeks later about how the ending was predetermined, about how our votes never really mattered, about how no matter what we did that box would have closed on his head.

At the core of this whole experiment, CC!Ranboo did to us exactly what Showfall did to GL!Ranboo. They gave us just enough free will that we were able to argue that we never had any at all.

[sucrealacreme]

Supe Busters - Soldier Boy x female reader

Chapter two

Summary : Vought has many secrets, project W is one of them. What happens when said project turns against them?

Butcher grunted, trying to force open the heavy metal door.

“You lot’s sure it's here” he said with annoyance. He didn't want to use energy for nothing after all.

“Yeah Butch we're sure. We should wait for Kimiko and Annie tho, none of us can open that door, it's made for supes, not us” M.M suggested. Both women would probably have more odds with the door then them.

But as M.M and Butcher were arguing, a loud creak echoed in the warehouse. They searched for the origin of the sound, but only saw one of the main doors slightly open.

“Come on we gotta hide in case they see us” exclaimed Hughie. They were huge shelves with boxes all over the warehouse. A hiding place wouldn't be hard.

You were walking back to the warehouse after collecting infos on Soldier Boy. This man needed to be put down, he killed a bunch of civilians and some innocent supes. I mean yeah, some were bad but it’s your job to do that. Your whole organisation is based around that and if more people start doing so, well it could fuck up your entire operation.

It angered you when people were being reckless. You hated when things didn't go as planned cause it meant you suddenly had to improvise and you're not good at that.

Arrived at the warehouse the door made a loud creak. Uh, you're gonna have to put some oil on it tomorrow before it hurts someone ears. Some of you have highly heightened senses, which can cause discomfort. But anyway, you'll deal with that tomorrow.

But your thoughts were interrupted when you smelled something strange. You maybe didn't have super vision or hearing but for smelling? Oh you were good at that. You could track supes with that for kilometres. But this scent, it wasn't a supe, it was similar to it but it missed this sweet note. No, it just smelled sour. But not a candy type of sour more like an alcohol one…

Someone cleared their throat behind you. You slowly turned around, wary of what awaited you.

“Oh Jesus you scared me” you exclaimed, happy to see it was just Florence.

“Ahahaahah sorry girl, you want to tell me why you were sniffing around like a police doggy?”

“I'm smelling something… I think there's someone in the warehouse.”You said now once again warry

Did someone find your hiding place? And if so, what could you do? You couldn’t just attack them, they could be civilians, drugged up ones but you know, still civilians.

No, it’s impolite to say this but no humans could possibly smell like that without using substances. Humans smelled bland, just a little salty but that's it. You were used to it, but that’s no normal one.

You heard something about some sort of compound V that was temporary weeks ago. Temp V it was called if you remember well. But if it’s that, that meant those people didn’t have any good intentions.

“Prepare yourself, I think we have some fake ass supes in here” you warned Florence. No one would be killing y’all without the both of you putting up a fight. Florence’s eyes started to have their usual white glow while yours stayed normal. Hers were just a result of concentrating light. Nothing much but damn it looked cool as hell ans could scare supes.

You slowly opened the door enough for Florence to enter with you. Calmly following the track your sense of smell gave y'all, it seemed to be coming from behind the boxes. Now you were sure as hell that there was someone in here. You were anxious that it could be some supes with an unusual body odour. Someone like Homelander, Black Noir or worse.

You were exhausted from your day of running around New York for even scraps of infos. So to be faire, you weren't up for a fight. But it didn't matter, there's people in this weird ass basement. You couldn’t really call it a basement, it was closer to an underground city you managed to put together. And if someone asked you, you would say it was pretty. There are many lights coming from bioluminescent species a villain called Nerissa made. It didn't have stores or anything, no it was just a few offices and bedrooms. Kinda like a hotel but instead of the big building it was a cave. Anyway, it was truly a little paradise on earth.

But you're getting carried away. Right now all that mattered was making sure no one knew where the entrante was. The metal door was a trap. The actual door is on the ground under some glued up together boxes. You always feel like some sort of movie spy when you use it. Urgh, you're getting carried away once again.

The odour seems to have moved. You quickily turned your head and saw nothing.

“Hey, maybe you're just tired… I think we should go home” Florence told me, unsure of herself.

“Yeah, yeah maybe you’re right let's go home.”

Soldier Boy was in a car with Annie and Kimiko while the rest of the team was at the warehouse.

“Why aren't we with them again?”he asked, not seeing how it could be a good idea to do so. I mean, a group of dickless normies agaisnt some fucked up supes?? At that point they just want to die.

“Because, one of the girls can separate compound V from our blood wich makes us useless. Unless you wanna look like you’re 100 years old, I’d recommend we stay here until Butcher has made a deal with them.”said Annie already annoyed by the old supe presence. I mean for crying out loud, it always seemed like his brain was producing too much testosterone. Respect for woman was far from him, he was always calling both her and Kimiko ‘woman’, asking them for a beer, no ordering them for a beer like they were his maids and ugh just so much bullshit like that.

Annie was pulled out of her thoughts when her phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi babe, uhm we’re actually gonna need your help. The door it’s uhm, it’s too heavy for us.”

“So you want us to risk our lives for a stupid deal?”

“give it back- NO butcher I said give it back-”

Annie heard Hughie fighting with someone.

“Evening sunshine. The deal isn’t stupid first off fuck off kindly, second if you happen to have around a thousand of supe allies then I’ll consider letting go of the plan. So, do you have those sweethearth?”

“No obviously but-”

“Didn’t think so. My plan it is then. Now, yall bunch of bollocks ought to join us at the warehouse” Butcher said before hanging up.

Y/n was walking to her quarters when Evangeline called her to come into her office.

Apparently she wanted to discuss about the team. Something about welcoming new members.

“You wanted to see me miss?”

“Yes, you see I’ve noticed that being only a team of four maybe wasn’t enough for our next targets.So I selected a few files about other villains. And I wanted your opinion on them” The group leader said with a smile.

“Sure miss no problems”You agreed with a kind smile in return.

“Oh come on don’t call me miss we’re almost friends you and me” Evangeline laughed.

Nerissa Montera

Aka Vineyard

Abilities : control over plants, can create life and new forms of life, degree in biology

Weakness : If a plant she's controling gets hurt, she will feel the pain, often get lost in her thoughts.

Cordelia Tremblay

Aka shark mouth

Abilities : Has a mouth with thousands of shark like teeth. Can rip anything with her mouth, has heightened senses, force, speed and intelligence

Weakness : Scared of blood, often gets huge headaches to the point of falling unconscious.

Rae Brown

Aka Funnel-Web

Abilities : can crawl on walls and roofs, has the ability to form strong webs, heightened senses, force and speed.

Weakness : Highly sensitive wrists since the webs come from there, is extremely wary of light since it causes her eyes pain.

Rebekah Acharya

Aka Actias

Abilities : can fly thanks to wings ressembling those of a moth. She is extremely fast and intelligent.

Weakness : can be compromised by lights easily so need to wear special glasses and is scared of heights

“Oh wow we got a good bunch eh?”

“Yes, now who should we pick according to you?”

Asked Evangeline, curious of her answer.

“Well honestly I would take them all, we could use as much help as we can and they all seem pretty powerful and useful. Yeah I'd say pick them all.”

“All of them uh? I didn't think of it honestly I was scared it would be too much for all of you but if you can handle it it's fine by me” said the older woman.

At Vought’s tower, things were getting agitated.

“So you're fucking telling me now silver man doesn't respond anymore? For fuck's sake Ashley do something before I get rid of those people my self jesus on a cross!” Homelander was beyond pissed. Supes have been missing left and right and those that were found had to be pumped full of compound V again. Apparently some villain had the ability to separate it from blood, what a fucking shitty ass mess.

“We're trying to sir but we have no idea who's doing all of that, none of the villains we created matches to what we found. I'm afraid you're going to have to wai-” Ashley was cut off by Homelander choking her. His red leather gloves were clenched so hard around her throat she could feel pressure behind her eyes.

“Now you're going to listen to me carefully you bitch. I need a suspect by friday. Or else I'll go and find them and then end the day with you. Understand?” He asked aggressively. Ashley tried to nod her head but could only gasp for air

“I SAID. UN.DER.STAND?” He was now screaming at the poor scared woman. She let out a small chocked ‘yes’. Homelander then let go of her now bruised up throat. Ashley fell to the floor now coughing up a storm. She was so tired of this job, but she knew she would be killed if she left. She knew too much, too much dirt, infos on weakness to be let go. But one day she'll escape. She was sure of it.

A/N : Thank you for reading and again if you have any suggestions feel free to tell me . I'll update when I'll be at 10 notes, cause yk it means people like it😊

@demodemo909

@weaponxgames

[cloudbells]

yeah the general attitude towards pre serum steve in the fandom has always been weird imo...

like from thinking he'd hate himself for being "small" or that he'd have to depend solely on bucky to get food or clothes or housing?? like where is that idea even coming from? in the scenes we see from pre-war steve and bucky don't even seem to live together, and are both dressed well? steve is short (but not even that short? he's like 5'7! that's like tony's height!) and thin, and obviously he's got his illnesses, but he never seems embarrassed by that? he only seems frustrated by that when OTHER people reduce him to it (which is what the fandom does lol) like when bucky doesn't want him to join the army and tells him to collect scrap metal or work at a factory, or when the army recruiters reject him...

sorry for the run on sentence rant lol hopefully it makes some sense 😂

There are a lot of people who seem to think that Steve was 100% reliant on Bucky. It's not something I ever subscribed to, but I think half of it is like, shipping possibilities and it being romantic to some and the other half are people who genuinely think that's the only way Steve could have lived. I don't understand the 2nd group seeing as, like you said, in the movie they don't live together. Bucky, loving Steve of course, offered, but Steve declined. I'm a thousand percent sure that Bucky supported Steve in the things he couldn't do or provide, but he wasn't his sugar daddy or anything. Side note: I need more fics of people spoiling Steve - get to writing people!!

One thing you mentioned is actually cracking me up so bad because I think about this all the time, but I don't think I've ever shared it - the height thing. What is going on with the height in the MCU fandom. I'm mostly on the stony side, so that's what I can speak on, but Steve and Tony, even in the MCU, are NOT wildly different heights.

I know some people go by their actors heights instead of what's canon - wait, but maybe I'm confusing myself. Tony's height in the MCU, visually, is kind of inconsistent. Probably because it's based on whether or not RDJ felt like wearing boosters in his shoes. But in general, I think I see Tony and Steve as similar-ish heights?

Although, I have to confess....short!top and tall!bottom is a gift (that I lowkey prefer ngl)...but then I get salty because 90% of fics don't cater to my specific taste. Can you believe it?

Anyways, I got wildly off topic there. I agree a lot of people portray pre-serum Steve very oddly in fandom. He isn't helpless and omg - one thing that pisses me off every time I see it is people blaming Steve for getting beat up by other people. They imply that if he's not physically equipped to step in, then he's asking for violence - or even worse, people peg HIM as the aggressor just because he doesn't have the physical strength to back up his morals. Isn't that kinda fucked up? I don't know if I explained this right, but I have argued over the theatre scene many times and these people DO exist y'all!

One more thing though - I don't think Bucky is wrong for telling Steve to stop trying to join the army. He doesn't want Steve to die, and Steve, without being noticed by higher ups for some freaky human experimentation, would have absolutely died very quickly in WW2. I don't even think the army is wrong for denying him entry either. I think what fandom does and what Bucky did are different categories!

Omg though, yappaholic cloudbells has returned haha! Thanks for sending this in!

[myfandomrealitea]

An investigation found hundreds of known images of child sexual abuse material (CSAM) in an open dataset used to train popular AI image generation models, such as Stable Diffusion. Models trained on this dataset, known as LAION-5B, are being used to create photorealistic AI-generated nude images, including CSAM. It is challenging to clean or stop the distribution of publicly distributed datasets as it has been widely disseminated. Future datasets could use freely available detection tools to prevent the collection of known CSAM. (SOURCE: https:// cyber.fsi.stanford.edu/news/investigation-finds-ai-image-generation-models-trained-child-abuse)

This isn't some "gotcha". This is something that actually HAPPENED.

Firstly;

Secondly, pick a fucking argument, dude. You've gone from asking me if I think AI rape images are fine to asking if I think AI CSA is fine because its using real CSEM to calling out that some AI datasets were contaminated.

So what's your argument? Are you arguing against my moral values or against AI? Those specific AI programs? People using art to fulfil unorthodox fantasy?

Copy-pasting statements after a furious little google search because I'm not bending over ass-backwards to agree with you is presenting what point, exactly?

AI bad?

Taboo kink bad?

Fictional content bad?

RPF bad?

Which is it? Help me out here. Is it some hybrid of all of those points?

Because I mean if your point is that AI is bad, I agree! Whole heartedly. For a multitude of reasons, not least one of your copied points; that it is actually basically impossible to make the AI forget something its learned. Hence; scrapping it all and starting over. Hence; stricter laws that only allow AI to be trained on specific open source datasets. Hence; requiring human approval for reference images and constant human monitoring rather than simply allowing the AI to run unsupervised, as most are.

I just don't agree that using various mediums to create fictional art that isn't created with a malicious directive is bad. Whether that's done by hand or using (god forbid) AI.

[devilbeez]

Hi

Pls tell me more abt the overlord assistants au 👀

So how about I tell you a little story of how the Quintessence were formed (if you have better name please tell me. I based this off of how the four of them are the classical elements and ‘Quintessence’ is the fifth element and I’m shit at naming)

Disclaimer; this is MY version of the Au, this is not what all HellSerVants au is like just my own version of this au because Stacy Mango Li and other have their own version of this au as well

Let’s started with titular bitchular Vox’s assistant/Eelliot/Peppermint/whatever tf you wanna call him, for simplicity imma called him “Eelliot”. So Eelliot was a regular Joe not much of a power hungry type of guy, man just scrapping by and want someone to care cause his last relationship landed him in hell. He found this guy, a charmer, a flirt, one could say a bad boy other would say a Chaz. They dated and Eelliot was head over heels, want a whole ass life after death with him. But you know how they are, eventually ‘Prince Charming’ cheated and when Eelliot found out the guy laughed. Saying things like “you really thought I would settle for you? A nobody? Ha! I thought you were easy to fool but this is ridiculous!” And something in Eelliot just snapped, his whole life he been the Veronica Sawyer to other’s JD, the Eliza to other’s Hamilton, the Jane Seymour to other’s Henry VIII, why are all these musical couples? Did you expect any less from me? Point is he’s always been the support and people taken advantage of him in relationships. That day he decided he wouldn’t have it anymore and set an example, starting his now headless, lifeless, ex boyfriend.

Meanwhile, Kitty, best girl is going through a Detroit become human arc, she’s a defective, they were gonna destroy her to study where they went wrong. She was supposed to be the most advanced RoboFizz out there, being versatile and adaptable to any job the people want. Something in their programming just make them— more humane I guess, like they feel rage, they feel scared, they can feel or at least imitate feeling and emotions. So obviously when they learn they was going to be torn apart, they run and the factory worker been hunting her down.

How Kitty and Eelliot met: One day, Kitty was running away from the factory worker and bump into Eelliot who at this time have started a company that will soon be a tech&media empire and collected a reasonable amount of souls. They argued for a bit cause 1. How dare she bump into him and 2. Eelliot never saw a robofizz before, much less alone without an owner and when the people trying to take Kitty back, they begin to babble on about how special Kitty’s model is and truth to be told Eelliot was intrigued. So he decided to do some charity work and help Kitty with the offer that she’ll work for him and he’ll protect her. Kitty obviously did not like this, she saw how deals like this ruin sinners lives but she didn’t had a choice. She agreed but she refused to sign any contract or shake his hand. She might be desperate but she’s not dumb. Eelliot liked that in his new business partner, at least he know they won’t be dead on arrival when he put them to work.

While Kitty and Eelliot make names for themselves, slowly but surely on the other side of the Pentagram city we have we Travis, doing everything he can to get his work off the ground, lie, cheat, bribe, he done it all. The people in his life always underestimated and belittled his scripts writing skill and now it is his turn to show the fuckers who’s the king of film. He became a small time overlord, climbing up the rank just like Kitty and Eelliot.

How Travis, Eelliot and Kitty form a trio: The three met occasionally at the overlords meeting, Travis immediately did not like Eelliot’s whole facade. He doesn’t believe anyone could be an overlord with such— pleasant demeanor? He seem so harmless and yet this guy is slowly becoming the same level as HIM? This gotta be a joke. Then there was Kitty a goddamn machine collecting human’s soul. The duo confused and frustrated Travis a little, though he HAVE to admit they were kind of an eye candy. One day, out of nowhere Eelliot offer him partnership, to much of Kitty’s dismay. Travis denied at first because his ego is too high, why tf would he need anyone help? He doesn’t need one before. That is until Eelliot offer him everything and more, building this vision of what could be to him and Travis was sold. If this goes south he could at least maybe get the benefits before he leave and attempt to get Eelliot or Kitty into bed for a night

And just like that the group was form. Eelliot, the leader, King of Media who work in the shadow rather than putting all the spotlight on him. Kitty, Monarch of Tech, using their robotic knowledge to use and create the most advanced technology hell had ever seen. And Travis, King of the Porn Industry, his script might be bad but he work his workers to the bone to get the degenerates off, one could say game recognizes games.

But there was one member missing. Melissa. She came way later in the time line, it being 2000’s something and she just freshly died and already caused a commotion in the city. Some sinner wanted to take her home but she was a quick learner and an observer, she can tell citizens of hell, these “sinners” have power so they must get it from some where. She cornered a random, weak looking sinner and forced them to tell her everything she needs to know about hell. Just a few weeks she was able to learn how to use her newfound power, creating poison flowers and vines to fend off anyone who crosses her.

How Melissa joined: Melissa intrigued Eelliot, a sinner, freshly dead and already have this much control of her power? He’d rather have her working with him than against him. He goes to Melissa, offering a deal for her soul and Melissa denied, how dumb did he think she is? Eelliot immediately intrigued by her even, so he throws out the soul deal offer try to get her to join the team saying “smart little one like you deserve much higher position than those idiots who sell their souls” Melissa insisted on fuck no, so Eelliot leave her a business card After a few days Melissa think about it and figured it’s better to have a place to stay and if anything happens she could try and fight, overestimating herself and show up at Assistant’s door step.

And with Melissa, The Poison Rose of Fashion added to the group, the Quintessence complete.

[blythebewitched]

Sunshine Phoenix Headcanons:

These headcanons are for my AUs in my Discord Server. There are ships. No human kids or Canon game lore are associated with the toys.

Tales From The Playcare AU:

Many toys were made by Playtime Co. Including Poppy, Mommy Long Legs and Huggy Wuggy. The Smiling Critters originally was meant to be one critter to add to the toy roaster before TSC became a side franchise.

Sunshine "Sunny" Phoenix was meant to be "The Smiling Critter" of Playtime Co., but failed. Sunny was scrapped and labeled as Prototype 1006.

1006 was meant to be destroyed but survived. Hiding, he witnessed multiple sun pendant holders be scrapped until Dogday. The company soon decided to make TSC a side franchise and gave DD a team.

Sunny held complicated feelings toward DD due to being the only one to know the poor dogs pain. Still, he was jealous and vengeful of the dog.

A little while later, as he planned his escape from the humans, he ran into the moon character, Catnap. The little cat had been abused by some employees and during an experiment gone haywire, 1006 gave up his freedom to help the cat. Finally revealing himself in the process.

He and Catnap spent the next few years learning more about each other while under punishment. They had a lot in common and Sunny noticed the little cats love for him. He intended on exploiting that. For both their sakes.

Together, they planned to take vengeance on the human employees and The Prototype promised Catnap he would save everyone. This event was called "The Hour of Joy".

When Catnap became leader, 1006 kept his eye on the Playcare. His attention caught onto Dogday yet again. He could still see the decline in Dogdays mental health. And noticing Cats affection for him, he gave Cat permission to have Dogday as partner despite the dog being a heretic. (Sunny would never admit it, but he cared for both of them).

Basic Headcanons:

Sunny's scent is Smoky Cedar Wood. Very masculine.

Despite his masculine scent, he loves to dress fancy. He has ballet heels.

His body was destroyed due to being scrapped and experimented on. He's very self conscious about his looks. So much so that he uses parts to make himself a "mech amalgamation" that he hides in.

His feathers are flame resistant. He can even breathe fire. I mean . . . He IS a Phoenix.

He's VERY charismatic. His voice was originally deep and smooth like silk. He bordered on being zesty. Either way, he's extraordinarily talented at public speaking and being convincing even if he's lying out his ass.

Don't be fooled by his calm and collected charm. He's still an arrogant asshole. It doesn't help that he has HORRENDOUS anger issues. Seriously, pick at his nerves enough, you'll get burned. (Just look at what happened to Catnap).

He'll never admit how much of himself he sees in Dogday and Catnap. (He won't admit feeling sadness seeing the other SC "leaders" parish either).

He was meant to be a happy and deeply friendly toy . . . If you squint, its still there.

His tail has little ocean blue gemstones clipped on. He also has a a blue scrunchie for his long ass hair.

Outside The AU:

Sunny is my oc so here are some headcanons of him NOT being the Prototype.

In the cartoon, Sunny would've been the older brother of Dogday and Kickin.

He'd be a VERY LOVING older bro. Granted they'd get on his nerves more than anyone else. Siblings do be arguing.

He 💯 started a band and lead it with his lil bros as his band mates. (The Band was called Dying Light).

Sunny is THE WORST at keeping any kind of romantic relationship. You would think with so much charm and zestiness he'd have rizz, but NOPE. Women hate him. Men hate him. The nonbinaries put a warrant out for his arrest.

Old people really like him tho. Especially grannies . . . Probably because he eats like a fat ass horse. (Hearty Hoggy I'm lookin at you).

In the cartoon, the Leaders Pendant (Sun Pendant) was passed down to Dogday by Sunny.

All three brothers play guitar btw. Sunny is bass. Dogday is acoustic and Kickin is electric. Tho Kickin plays more than one instrument.

He left the band at some point and became a model . . . Mf still has those damn ballet heels . . . How tf does he walk?

[fvrxdrm]

emails i can’t send

pairing: musician!leon kennedy x musician!f!reader

tag(s): friends to lovers, angst to fluff, based on sabrina carpenter’s album of the same name

warning(s): angst in the beginning, mentions of break up (not with leon tho i promise), very self-indulgent :]]], like, i’m deadass serious, the middle part’s solely dedicated to valorant (i’m sorry) to the point where i feel like most people reading this wouldn’t understand a single thing on that part. i’m addicted to that game at this point

songs used in this fic: lonesome, feather, bad for business

word count: 2322

*****

If I fall in love with all my problems, will they leave me too?

You leaned back onto the bed frame as you scribbled words on the page. The room was dimmed and bestrewed with crumpled and torn-up papers. On them was a collection of lyrics and doodles, all scrapped and erased with different variations of squiggles and lines across them. You looked out the window. The storm was still swirling outside, you could see how the rain was being pushed towards the direction the wind was taking them along with the trees holding strong against the puddled ground. Droplets of water were looking pretty gliding across glass like a bunch of tiny branched-out rivers heading down towards the pool on the windowsill. The mood was just right for you, perfect for an angsty and lonesome song to be written under the flashing lights of the occasional lightning.

Or maybe I believed in all your lies 'cause I believed in you

Downstairs you could hear Leon experimenting with different chords on his guitar, falling flat with the strings from time to time. You even found yourself giggling at the amount of times you heard him growling in frustration when he couldn’t get the tone and the transitioning of the sounds right, or when he forgot which chord to play next.

“Fucking dumbass fingers!” 

Your smile slowly faded as your gaze fell back on your notebook. You thought about which words to write down, spinning the pen through your fingers while doing so.

Why were you somewhere else when you were next to me?

I know you know it keeps me up

Did you think about her face with your hands around my waist?

Did you even give a fuck?

You convinced yourself you were over it, over him, over that mess of a love affair that was basically just narcissism and manipulation born as one human. You’d recognized the red flags, even had you and your best friend, Leon, tag him with the nickname ‘code red’ whenever you passed by him. Still, you couldn’t keep the conflict within you that made you so gullible to your insecurities from fighting against your self-worth. You were still in the process of rebuilding that trust towards yourself, still in the process of pushing away any remnants of love that made you feel so violated. But, how were you going to forget him when you kept overthinking all that had happened? How were you going to forget loving him when you kept grasping onto the ‘what if’s? 

As Leon had said, “You don’t miss him, you miss what he could’ve been.”

This was hopeless, this was ridiculous. You felt so close to finding yourself, but sometimes you’d fall back into old habits like an addict falling back into vices and argue with yourself over the dumbest things. You were falling back into painting vivid pictures of what he saw in you and washing away the good that he didn’t see in you.

As you were drowning in your thoughts, three knocks against the wooden door brought you back to reality. It was Leon with his guitar in hand, looking like a happy golden retriever that just found the ball he’d lost in the garden a few days ago.

“I think I got the perfect sound for your next song,” he said after plopping down on your mattress with his guitar positioned on his lap. “Really? Go on then. I can probably draft the next verse once I hear it.”

“Okay so, I got inspired after playing RDR2 yesterday, and I was thinking we could use some yeehaw feel for the track,” Leon shifted to a more comfortable position on the bed, scrunching the comforter below him even more. He strummed his guitar once to get a feel of the strings before pressing his fingers on them to play the chords.

The sound was beautiful, balancing between being ever so light like the pitter-pattering of the rain, and being heavy like the storm and the darkness smothering the sky.

You can't spell "lonesome" without "me"

And there's no hope in misery

I can't escapе your history, oh

You can't spell "lonesome" without "mе"

You just can't

*****

I slam the door, I hit ignore

The world felt balanced for a moment, cloudy skies filtering the sunlight and making it soft as the wind dashed every few minutes. It was like mother nature felt mushy and shy, yet loud and confident all the same. Perhaps like the fluttering of your heart, so full of joy, and the devilish assertiveness overheating your body as you continued to shit on these fucking kids trying to ego-peek you and your trusty sniper. 

Breathe in, breathe out… You’re getting your ace, little angel.

Calm, cool, collected Y/N… So relaxed yet sturdy like a cloudburst circling around with the leaves.

Your hand was steady while clicking head after head, a bunch of pixels running and trying to gun you down for hours. “Too warmed up,” they said. “Heat up!” Leon screamed through the comms. You’re cracked… L Diablo… SEN ElevenZ… An amalgamation of hype and torn vocal cords ringing from your headphones and into your ears. “I’m shaving my head if you ace clutch this,” another rando commed as the in-game announcer’s voice was heard.

“Last player standing.”

You spammed your A and D keys while peeking every tight corner you turned to, jump peeked at every possible sniper angle the enemy Jett could be holding, slicing your pie as the pros would call your careful peeks. Nobody said a word, but if you had to guess, Leon must have been clenching his ass cheeks just waiting for you to either lose the final round or tie the game 12-12 and bring it to overtime. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up with nerves, also could feel your hands sweat even more. Why do ranked games have to feel like this?

I got you blocked

After this, an afterthought

I finally cut you off

You voiced your anxiousness to Leon, “I’m fucking nervous, dude. We might actually lose our RR,” you bit your lip while still jiggling behind screens. “You got this, little angel. I believe,” Leon whispered back into the mic as he sipped on his boba tea. You took a step one click at a time and took a shot with your rifle just to be certain with clearing your corners. You were sure the enemies knew where you were by now because of that shot, so you had to make a move, and fast. You smoked yourself with your Cloudburst behind screens to isolate the Sage peeking by default, promptly head- shotting her before Updrafting onto rafters to reposition yourself to a high ground, but not before losing 40 HP from a responding body shot.

1v4

You saw the Reyna jiggle peeking maze while shooting one bullet at a time. By the third peek, you got yourself a quick headshot to punish her. This, in turn, gave you your Tailwind back.

1v3

You activated your Tailwind as well as your Blade Storm ultimate so you wouldn’t have to deal with the inaccuracy of your Vandal while moving about. You checked your flank when you noted that nobody was on site to trade the Reyna, and sure enough, the enemy Jett was shift-walking with an Op like a fucking idiot. Like, why separate from your teammates and give your one enemy a 1v1? In a 1v5? Hello? This is a high elo lobby??? Anyway, despite your nerves, you shot a knife to the Opper’s head before she could do a quick scope and dashed back onto site to look for your fourth kill. 

1v2

“You’re actually gonna fucking win this?” 

“Oh my fucking god, I’m actually gonna shave my head.”

Then, Leon whispered into your party comms again, “I believe in you, heal yourself.” You lost your focus for a moment, pursing your lips as you tried your hardest not to laugh, “I fucking hate you so much.”. 

You found your fourth just as you Updrafted onto top site, and now, it was down to…

1v1

“Holy fuck! I’m actually losing my fucking hair!”

You played a cat-and-mouse game with the final enemy once you dropped below top site, aware of the time running out. You activated your dash one last time and dodged bullets while you ring-around-a-rosied on site. Then finally, as the ticking of the bomb began to quicken, you took advantage of a momentary opening and landed a final headshot to the enemy, dashing hurriedly towards the spike to defuse it. 

“Nah”

“Wait, you’re actually cracked???”

“I’m losing my hair!”

You let out a breath of relief once you saw the defused spike’s animation. “Bro, I’m never doing that again. I hated every single second of that.”.

I feel so much lighter, like a feather, with you off my mind

Floating through the memories like, whatever, you're a waste of time

Leon replied, “I told you, you could do it. Actually VCT-ready. Witewwy.”.

“Witewwy?”

“Witewwy.”

After that, the tension was turned up even more between your teams, trading round after round until…it was Leon’s time to clutch the round and win the game.

“If I win this, you have to go on a date with me,” Leon commed once again in your party voice chat, now feeling like your nerves were resettling in him. It was supposed to be a light-hearted joke, something not foreign to your dynamic, but then, “Sure, I’m down,” you shrugged with your arms crossed. You sounded too nonchalant for his liking, you just had to be unserious…right? He just had to make sure, “You serious?”. You responded, “Yeah, I’m dead-ass serious. If you clutch this, I’ll go out with you on a date, kiss you good night, then end up fu-”

“Alright, I’m clutching this.”

Your signals are mixed, you act like a bitch

You fit every stereotype, send a pic

With newfound confidence and determination, he activated his Empress, gaining higher fire rate, quicker ability activation, and more healing from his Devour, all while having his powers strengthened. He blinded one of the enemies with his Leer to create a distraction, catch them off guard with his Vandal, and quickly finish them off. He then repositioned using his Dismiss to evade incoming fire and avoid detection by the remaining enemies, all while his ult automatically replenished his health before preparing for his next engagement. 

With one enemy remaining and time running out, Leon faced the last enemy guarding the spike. He utilized his one Leer to disorient the player before dispatching him with a meticulous shot, and Dismissed off to defuse the spike before it exploded. And just in the nick of time, he won the round for his team and secured the game victory, as well as the additional RR.

“Welp, we’re off for the weekend.”

I feel so much lighter, like a feather, with you out my life

With you out my life

*****

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow that washed over everything in its path. The stars twinkled like scattered diamonds, their brilliance illuminating the darkness with a celestial radiance.

The city was enveloped in a serene stillness, broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. The shadows danced and swayed, as if performing a silent ballet, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to the scene. The darkness was deep and impenetrable, creating an otherworldly atmosphere that seemed to hold secrets waiting to be discovered.

We look good in photographs

I like the way you like to laugh at dirty jokes

I know they'll always land

Used to get work on time

But now you're taking up my nights

Never been so glad to be so tired

Leon went downstairs to grab a glass of water, when he heard a faint sound coming from the living room. Following the sound, he found you slumped over your writing table, your notebook open in front of you, fast asleep. He couldn't help but smile at your peaceful expression and the sight of your creative process in action.

As Leon approached you, he noticed that the song you had been writing was about him. His heart skipped a beat as he read the lyrics that spoke of his charisma, his means to take up your nights, and the way he had inspired you. He felt a surge of warmth and happiness knowing that he had made such an impact on you.

Ooh, I'm mad for you

It's sad but true and I know it

Ahh, you're on my mind

You stole my life and it's showin'

Carefully, Leon picked you up, cradling you in his arms, and carried you to your bed. He tucked you in, admiring your beauty even in your sleep. He couldn't help but feel a deep affection for you, not just as a collaborator and a friend, but as someone who had captured his heart.

He thought back to the open notebook, a smile tugging at his lips. He made a mental note to talk to you about the song in the morning, eager to hear more of what you had written. Leon realized that this unexpected moment had given him a glimpse into your heart, and he couldn't wait to see where your music and your connection would take you both.

With a contented sigh, Leon left the room, grateful for the serendipitous encounter that had brought him closer to you some years ago, the talented musician who had captured his heart. Little did he know that this would be the beginning of something truly special, a journey of music, love, and endless possibilities.

He's good for my heart but he's bad for business 

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I've gone crazy

But they don't know me like my baby

[nerdygoth77]

Hi I have come to request to collect some drabbles or headcannons on your fave fallout character reuniting with the main character? It can be your fallout OC with your romance companion or whoever you'd like! tia❤

My first request!! Thank you so much for your ask! :)

I decided to do my Fallout 4 Nuka World Overboss OC, Lilly! Paired with my favorite, Porter Gage. I did a short drabble!

Reunited

Read on AO3 here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49325812/chapters/147352036

or just read below!

It had been two weeks and three days since Gage had last seen Lilly, and he was more than anxious for her return. He and Lilly had left on a bit of a rough note, all because Gage didn’t want Lilly to go out on her own. 

 She had been preparing for this little trip to the Commonwealth for a while now, explaining carefully that he couldn’t come, it was something that she had to handle alone. He had gotten agitated at being told to stay behind. He and Lilly had hardly been separated since she became overboss about ten months ago. She could handle herself well, but his nerves still spiked at the thought of her out there alone. They had argued about it, Lilly trying to convince Gage by telling him that Dogmeat would keep her safe. Her attempt at calming his nerves only made Gage more irate. Gage knew Dogmeat was a protective and vicious companion, but he wasn’t invincible. 

But she won anyway. Gage was left standing at the gate of Nukaworld, fuming as he watched Lilly ride off into the wasteland on her favorite horse, that dog of hers hot on their heels. Gage’s lips still tingled from her goodbye kiss, the taste of her lipstick sweet on his lips. His heart strained as he watched her, the sun just barely peeking over the Appalchian mountains. Then she was gone, slipping into the darkness of the shadows. Porter heaved a sigh before making his way back to Fizztop.

Now Porter Gage sat inside the old Fizztop Grille restaurant that he and Lilly had turned into a nice home. They had dragged out most of the tables and chairs, only leaving a few alongside the work benches. Their bed was up on a small platform, right next to an armor workbench and power armor station that was holding the Nuka T-51 power armor. It was purely for decoration and for holding Lilly’s magnet collection, Lilly and Gage both not fans of the clunky suit. Power armor always made Gage sweat and feel claustrophobic, and Lilly hated it because her agility in the suit was awful. 

The old restaurant had really become a home, even the mutt had his own corner with a soft fluffy bed and plenty of chew toys. Lilly had decorated the walls with everything from old paintings to animal skulls, a few even human. They had removed all of Colter’s “decorations” and cleaned up the place real nice. 

They had more storage than they knew what to do with, trunks, boxes, and dressers full of items scattered around the room. Most boxes were full of scrap or junk waiting to become scrap. Gage and Lilly went through a lot of scrap, using it to constantly repair their armor and weapons. 

Soft colorful rugs scattered the room. Lilly had learned pretty quickly that the floor got freezing cold in the wintertime, and that the rugs saved them from cold feet on chilly mornings. Gage thought they looked silly and frilly, but he wouldn’t dare complain to his peculiar pre-war love. A massive quilt that Lilly had made herself covered the large bed. They even had comfy pillows. Lilly really enjoyed creature comforts like softness when she could have it, not that Gage was complaining about the soft blankets or running water. He hadn’t lived this well in his whole life, and he had a beautiful woman to share it with. 

The old kitchen had been cleaned up and was a kitchen again, the fridge laying face down in the middle of the floor with the back panel ripped off. Getting the old fridge to work, along with some other appliances was on Gage’s extremely long list of shit to fix. 

Gage sat at one of his work benches, his attention entirely focused on the baseball bat in front of him. He was trying to turn one of Lilly’s many colorful “killing bats” into a spiked rocket bat. Getting the nails in had been the easy part, the rocket mechanism giving Gage a little trouble. 

The radio was playing loudly, redeye rambling about who gives a fuck. Gage just had it on for the noise, the sound and tinkering keeping him busy and from stressing over Lilly. Redeye was loud, but not loud enough for Gage to not hear the patio door open quietly and shut softly. Gage pretended like he didn’t hear a thing, waiting for the footsteps to get closer. He dropped his hands from his tools to under the table, his hand finding one of the half dozen guns that were duct taped to the underside of the table. 

Suddenly a familiar wet nose nudged at his hand, Gage looking down to see a very happy Dogmeat. He let out a sigh of relief and removed his hand from the gun, patting Dogmeat on the head. The mutt was wagging his tail so hard his body wiggled, Lucy giggling from behind Gage at the dog. “Someone missed you.” She cooed, laughing as the dog picked up his front feet repeatedly in excitement, looking like he was doing a little dance. 

Gage rubbed the dog behind his ears before he stood up and turned to look at Lilly. “You made it back!” He spoke, his eyes roving over her fit form to see she looked a little worse for wear. She looked exhausted, her bright pink hair and freckled skin filthy with the dirt and grime of the wasteland. Her dark eye makeup was smeared and running down her face, her red lipstick long gone. The bags under her eyes were large, exhaustion pulling at Lilly’s sore muscles, causing her perfect posture to falter as she slouched her shoulders under the heavy weight of tiredness. The bounty hunter duster and road leathers she wore were a bit tattered, but otherwise she seemed to be in one piece. 

“I told you he’d protect me.” She grinned, approaching Gage with open arms. “Yeah yeah yeah.” Gage grumbled, giving the dog one last pat before pulling Lilly into a tight hug. Her exhausted body relaxed against his warmth, his large chest a great pillow for her head. He rested his chin atop her head, his hands gently rubbing her back. He breathed her in, that sweet smell of her usual perfumes and scents slightly masked by the smell of the wasteland. She reeked like radiation and sweat, that metal smell lingering on her clothes 

They just stood there for a moment, holding one another. All of the stress disappeared from Gage now that she was back in his arms. Sometimes he’d get into his head about her; sometimes he felt that she was way too good for him and that one day she’d get the sense to leave him. But here she was, back in his arms. 

When she looked up, Gage ran his thumb along her bottom lip, feeling the large cut that swiped down her lip to her chin. When she flinched away he moved his hand to cup her face, “What mess did you get yourself into darlin’?” He frowned. Lilly just shrugged one of her shoulders and leaned into his touch, “Nothing Dogmeat and I couldn’t handle.” The weak smile she gave him said otherwise. Gage rolled his eyes at her, his thumb wiping a smear of dirt from her cheek. He could tell Lilly was exhausted and bruised up, and in desperate need of a bath and a good night's sleep. 

Gage pulled her into a soft kiss lingering kiss, pulling away when Lilly tried to take it a step forward. “As much as I’ve missed you baby,”  He drawled, grabbing Lilly’s hand, “I can tell you need a rest.” Lilly let out a sigh but nodded in agreement, “Yeah I do. That and a shower. I’m gross.”

He gave her hand a gentle tug, a smirk on his face. “Yeah you are, you stink.” He faked disgust, Lilly huffing and shoving at his shoulder. Lilly rolled her eyes when the solid wall of muscle didn’t budge, “No worse than you.” He mocked her dramatic eye roll and pulled her towards the bathroom. “Then c’mon.” 

Lilly let out a bemused huff and followed Gage to their bathroom, allowing him to take care of her.

Find more of Lilly and Gage on my blog and AO3

[sandycookie]

Locking Fics On Ao3

Honestly, I’m a little conflicted about locking my fics down to registered users or not.

I would prefer my fics to be easily seen, and I understand well why someone would read fics as a guest (invites, or simply wishing to remain completely anonymous, or just not wanting to create an account are a few I can come up with off the top of my head). Infer of that what you will.

But I also loath the idea of my fics being scraped for free by a for profit company so they may try to write writers out (note: I do not believe that at its current state, AI art and writing is not yet at a state where it makes those professions obsolete. However, it should be noted that AI writing does not seem to receive the same scrutiny, though that is only my own observation. Regardless, AI would have to advance immensely more to fully replace human writers and artists, though it would not surprise me if writers were to be the first ones to go on the capitalist chopping block. Many people only really seem to recognize the written word as just a collection of pretentious words and not its own craft and art, one you could dedicate lifetimes to and still not master. It does not help that it is harder to recognize writing styles than art styles, and many will use different writing styles frequently. Okay, that went rather off topic, so continuing), profiting off of an art that goes unappreciated by many, one that people pour valuable time and soul into in order to weave words together to serve their vision. I believe fanfiction of be a form of literature, not a genre, per se. Regardless of our ‘y/c orbs’ or ‘y/n ur so hawt lemme marri u’, of the many things fanfiction is memed for (and don’t get me wrong; I have an absolute blast doing that) it does not make it any less valuable. That One Direction fanfiction written by a blushing 13 year old is not something to be ridiculed but something to celebrate. The immature language, the poor punctuation, a plot that moves by the whim of its creator and not its own world, that my friend, is a miracle. This 13 year old who likely read other OD fanfic was inspired, and so they created something that was ultimately fueled by a shared love of a fandom. I would even argue it is a piece of culture, even. This 13 year old may never write another fanfic after the first one, and that is fine. This was to be but one stop pf their childhood, something they can go back to laugh and be embarrassed about. But for others it is a stepping stone in honing their art. At first, they handle the needle flimsily, twisting and dropping from their inexperienced fingers, and their stitches are hatched and loose and forms a creation that is just barely functional. It is not the greatest, there is no argument about that. But this is but the first step. They start to imitate the creations they like, copying others’ techniques for themselves. They may even venture to educate themselves, the way the needle maneuvers and sews and how to guide it along its journey. Their work is formed from the scraps of fabrics and half used strings they can find. Then they start to master their craft and before long they venture to select the fabrics they want. They start to achieve a mastery of their craft, and they start to weave a beautiful piece of art. They started no better than a young infant fresh to the world, and now they’ve matured their understanding of it.

That. That is why scraping like that is unacceptable. Why it enrages me so. Yet, I remember how I was when I was younger. I admired writers but I was too shy to create an account, to have some tbh I g that could be traced easily with but a name. I remember and treasure that, just a little. Perhaps my troubles are merely a result of my own indecisiveness. Perhaps I am blowing a simple matter and choice, one the size of a drop, to an ocean. I may be overreacting, or my paranoia of the world is dulled. Or maybe it is a repressed desire for any form of attention I can receive. I can only really speculate.

But you, dear reader, perhaps you will be able to come to a choice with a firm resolve. And I salute you for that.

[a-very-questionably-unstable-box]

DRIZ INFO DUMP!!

What she actually is- is definitely more correlated to demons and more so witchcraft and the dark arts.

She parades around in a human form mainly while in broad daylight or crowded places, and you can definitely see the inspo on her design with Crowley and the glasses as well as hair(though one could argue thats actually my own influence given my dyed red hair).

Her Powers Include:

-Immortality

-Demonic Contract Bestowal

-Demonic/Wicked Miracles

-Curse/Arcane Inducement

-Dark Art Manipulation

-Soul collecting(Doesn’t personally like doing it- but ya do what ya gotta do)

Demonic Element Manipulation:

-Hell-Fire Manipulation

-Soul binding chains

-Demonic Arcane Spells/Rituals/Occults.

Other Powers:

-Possession

-Mental Manipulation:fear Inducement, nightmare manipulation

-Sin manipulation/Sin Encouragement “Tempting”

-Transmutation

-And much much more.

She is sent about to the surface and is meant to procure souls and promote sin- On the side however she’s actually a detective who works for Hell and other ethereal beings in order to figure out cases. Often getting in scraps and trouble along the way.

She uses the dark arts as well as her own powers to get through cases and solve em!

Weaknesses to her include the following:

-Holy Water

-Holy Aversion

-Exorcism

-Salt (She hates Salt Circles..)

-Angelic Beings using holy arcana

personality: She’s very mischievous and is quite sarcastic in some senses. She can be a tad hotheaded at times but prefers to keep herself leveled and chill.

At her heart, she’s quite a sweetheart and will often be compassionate and empathetic in some senses-(She doesn’t like people pointing that out).

Bonus Info:

-She’s a huge fan of sweet things, especially sweet cocktails. So the best way to win her over is usually by giving her either sweets(Go for Lollipops, she likes those a lot.) or a cocktail that might send a human to the hospital from the sugar content.

-She’s right around 5’9 in height and usually sports heels or combat boots in her outfits. She also usually wears an oversized jacket, leather/flowy black pants, and a black too that is either sleeveless or is skintight(I’ll draw that up soon.)

-She has different variations of sunglasses, though the lenses are tinted purple or black a lot of the time.

-She isn’t fond of spiders..

-Lastly- It’s a given fact she’s immortal and hates it.

[aethes-bookshelf]

a garden of my love || alucard/reader

This one has been slowly rotating in my brain like a rotisserie chicken for a few months now, so I'm glad it's finally out of my head and actually on a page :D

Pairing: Alucard (Castlevania)/Reader

Warnings: angst, hanahaki, character death, hurt/no comfort

Word count: 3.2k

ao3 link

It was late October. Most leaves had already fallen off the trees; the only surviving ones were desperately clinging to branches, all brown and crumbly with death. The sun was shining, but the breeze made your skin prickle with goosebumps despite the warm cloak you had fastened around your shoulders. You were carrying a basket full of food. It was all still warm — steam was gently puffing from beneath the cloth you covered it all with.

It was Alucard’s birthday. So, just like all the years before, you prepared all of his favorites as a gift. You couldn’t really afford lavish clothes or books, but you had plenty of food; so, you gave him your cooking instead.

You didn’t have much — never had, not really, but that rang especially true after Dracula’s war on humanity. Your house got ransacked by night creatures, leaving you to wander from city to city, collecting scraps or hunting in the forest. One day, you ended up in Gresit.

That’s how you met him.

- - - 

Judging by the stories you’d heard in your youth, Gresit was always ugly. But the recent war took that ugliness and transformed it into a picture of despair. Wherever you turned lay dead bodies, limbs spread-eagle, faces scrunched up in an eternal mask of fear. Even if you’d seen it many times before, it still made your stomach churn.

Ever since you’d lost your home, you kept yourself afloat by hunting — mostly hunting, at least. You wished you could say you’d never stolen in your life, but that would’ve been a lie. At least that wasn’t your primary way of getting food.

Usually, you ate only some of the meat from the animals you killed and sold the rest of the carcass, skin and whatever antlers included. But on that particular day, your hunt ended up a failure — most of your traps were empty and all you managed to get with your arrows were a few rabbits. Enough food for a day or two, but if you were to survive on their meat alone, you’d have to eat them all. All you’d be left with would be pelts. You knew from experience that rabbit pelts sold relatively cheap. The three you’d have left by the end of your meals wouldn’t be enough to buy the next one.

So, unfortunately, you had to settle for eating only one of the rabbits and selling the other two whole instead. Not the ideal solution, but maybe it’d get you enough money for a shitty bed in an even shittier inn. If there were any functioning ones left in this goddamned city.

On your way towards the market, you passed by a group of three strangers; two of them — a red-headed woman and a man in tattered clothes — were passionately arguing. Something about the group gave you pause.

You’d only just arrived in the city, but you’d already overheard your fair share of rumors about the battle that took place yesterday night. Apparently a speaker magician and someone thought to be a Belmont led the city’s forces against the night creatures. One of the strangers was clad in Speaker’s robes, the other one had a Belmont crest on his shirt. At least that part checked out. Who the third stranger was, the one sitting in shadow, you did not know. What you did notice about him, however, was that he was incredibly pretty. Distractingly so, almost.

Against your better judgment and possibly all kinds of common sense known to man, you walked towards them. After all, who’d want to get involved in Belmont business? Everyone knew how that ended for those unfortunate bastards; you weren’t exactly keen on getting killed by some overly religious fella with a sword like they had been.

Still, you walked on. Something in your gut told you this was the right thing to do. That maybe it was fate that led you to them that day, as ridiculous as that sounded.

‘What do you want?’ the Belmont barked in your general direction, side-eyeing you from his spot by the wall.

‘I’m not sure I know myself,’ you replied, shrugging.

‘Then be so kind and fuck off.’

‘Trevor!’ yelled the Speaker. If looks could kill, the man would’ve fallen dead on the spot.

‘What? We’re all thinking it.’

‘You’re just as charming as you look, then,’ you said. The dead rabbits you’d holstered to your belt were bleeding all over the side of your thigh. It got uncomfortable quickly in the cold breeze.

‘Could say the same thing about you.’ Trevor didn’t even bother to look up this time. He chose to marvel at all the empty bottles around them instead.

‘He does have a point though,’ said the Speaker. ‘Why did you approach us?’

‘Let’s just say I’m listening to my gut for once.’ You gestured to the bow hanging from your back. ‘You need an archer?’

- - -

After the dust settled and Trevor and Sypha left to chase adventure, you decided to stay with Alucard. Partly for your own sake — you didn’t exactly fancy the drifter lifestyle; plus, sleeping in a warm bed every night did sound really good — and partly for his. You’d been entertaining the idea of staying somewhere around Alucard ever since your little group got to Belmont Hold. But all it took for you to make that final choice was one look at his defeated expression; you’d never seen someone look as lost as he did, watching his father’s burning corpse.

So you stayed.

- - -

You gave him some space after Trevor and Sypha left. You weren’t strangers per say, but you weren’t friends either. You didn’t want to intrude. He deserved at least a few hours to himself.

Instead, you decided to forage in the nearby forest for some dinner. You’d run out of arrows during the battle, so you couldn’t hunt for now, as much as you’d like to. You managed to find some wild onions and herbs — wasn’t exactly dinner material, but if the castle had some dried meat in there somewhere, you could make something out of it.

You were about to turn back when you stumbled upon a whole bunch of beautiful apple trees. You figured they didn’t really belong to anyone, being in the middle of a forest and all. And, even if they did, the owner wouldn’t mind losing one or two apples. Or ten.

You filled up your bag with the fresh fruit; what you couldn’t fit there you carried in your shirt instead. You did drop a few of the apples on your way back to the castle, but you had enough to last relatively long. There was no point in turning back for just a couple of them.

By the time you came back, the sun was setting. You hoped those few hours of alone time did Alucard some good; and that he was ready to talk again. At least to talk long enough to make some food. You had no idea where what was in that huge castle. Let alone something like a pantry. Or a kitchen,

You circled the entire first floor looking for Alucard — no sign of him at all. The second floor, same thing. You gave up on yelling his name eventually; you didn’t want to ruin your throat.

‘I swear, if he’s huddled up somewhere in the basement, I will…’ you stopped mid-sentence when you saw light dancing beneath one of the closed doors. You sighed in relief. ‘Finally.’ You opened the door with your shoulder. ‘Hey, I went looking for some food and I found quite a few…’ you stopped again. But this time, it was for a different reason entirely.

His face was all swollen and his eyes were red-rimmed. Drying tears shone against his skin in the muted light of the fire. When he saw you come in, he tried to quickly wipe them away, but by the time he did, fresh ones started falling.

‘Oh,’ you managed to say. How eloquent of me, you thought. ‘Do you… do you want me to leave?’ you said, shoulders drooping slightly. You knew the death of his father would hit him hard — hell, you’d lost your own! — but you didn’t expect it to hit him this hard.

Then again, you hadn’t had to kill your father, so you didn’t have that much insight into his situation.

He swallowed with difficulty, snot blocking his throat. He moved to wipe the tears away again, but he stopped himself mid-way through. ‘I… I don’t know,’ he whispered, voice breaking.

You nodded and put away the apples; some of them rolled all the way to the other side of the room. ‘Okay.’ You cleared your throat. ‘How about we just… sit together for a while? And then you decide if you’d like me to go or to stay, or if you’d want to talk, we can do just that, okay? Or, well, I can do just that. The leaving part, anyway.’

He chuckled; the sound was unusually wet. ‘You’re awful at this.’

You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. ‘I know. Part of my charm, I suppose,’ you said, and sat on the floor next to him, with your back to the wall.

He smiled a sad, gentle smile. ‘I suppose so too.’

- - -

Years had passed since. And, in the meantime, the birthday feast became a tradition. It was your idea — he hadn’t even thought about celebrating his birthday since his parents’ deaths; something told you that had it not been for you, he’d probably never celebrate it again.

So, every year, without fail, you presented him with a tablefull of delicious treats. In the second year of you living together, Trevor and Sypha visited and stayed long enough to take part in this little celebration. In the third year, the two of you stumbled upon two lost hunters creeping in the forest. What happened after became a taboo, an unspeakable secret worn on Alucard’s skin. In year three, you realized that your devotion to him might be a lot more than you’d like it to be.

In year four, he met Greta.

She was wonderful in every sense of the word. Strong, brave, smart, funny. She made a great friend to both him and you, and a great leader to her people. One of your sweetest memories was sitting with her in the kitchen late at night, a pint of beer in your hands and laughter on your lips. The other one was helping her and the villagers built their new homes around the castle.

You’d be stupid not to notice the way he looked at her.

Ever since you’d realized what your feelings for him were, you decided to push them all down. After everything he’d been through your… attraction would only bring him pain. And that was the last thing you wanted for him. Besides, being someone close enough to him to be called his friend was an honor, you told yourself. Lover or not, he was the most important person in your life and you’d never risk ruining all of that over a stupid crush. It would pass, like they all always had.

So, you let time run its course. You watched Alucard and Greta get close and, despite the dull pang in your chest, you were genuinely happy for them.

After all, they were perfect for each other.

In year five, they finally got engaged. That’s when it all went to hell.

The whole village celebrated the news. All the hunters went out to the forest and all brought something back — yourself included. There was a huge bonfire and enough meat to feed everyone and then some. There was dancing, singing, music. Alcohol poured out of every corner. Everyone was giddy with laughter. Especially the freshly engaged couple — both of them with crowns of freshly picked flowers on their heads. You helped the children make them as gifts.

Everything was perfect. So, so perfect. You got drunk enough to get nauseous. You managed to stumble your way to a nearby bush to puke. You were too out of it to notice the petals swimming in the putrid liquid.

- - -

By the next day, the cough started. You chalked it up to a bad cold and moved on. Alucard was a bit worried when he noticed how pale you were, but you quickly dismissed him, telling him to go back to Greta. You were fine, a little cough wasn’t going to kill you.

Was it now?

A few weeks passed by, but the cough wasn’t getting any better. Quite the opposite, actually. Eventually it got to the point where you had to take a breather after walking up to your castle room. Luckily enough, no one noticed. You were sure it would pass if you just gave it enough time.

Then, the pain came. Sometimes it felt like something stabbing itself into the inside of your chest, sometimes it felt more like a pressure, rising until you could barely catch a breath.

That’s when Alucard decided that enough was enough. He forcibly got you to bed and ordered you to stay put until he figured out what was wrong with you.

Like hell you were gonna do that. Not after the petals you coughed up into your hand.

You ended up sneaking into the great, expansive library of the castle. After all, if you were to find an answer anywhere, it would be there. Or in the Belmont Hold, but that was plan B because of all the walking.

Night after night, you poured over books in hopes of finding an answer. The sleepless nights were starting to get to you. You tried to sleep as much as you could during the day, but your illness — whatever it was — wasn’t exactly helping with your tiredness.

‘What the hell do you do at night, exactly?’ asked Alucard, after changing the cold compress on your forehead.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t play dumb with me. You’re tired as all hell. And you shouldn’t be, if you really were sleeping both at night and during the day.’

‘I’m sick…!’ you protested weakly; judging by his expression, that excuse didn’t work.

‘Sure.’ He cocked a brow. ‘If you don’t want to tell me now, don’t. But don’t expect me to just let you do whatever when you’re this ill. You’re not just my friend, you’re my patient as well.’ He took the basin of cold water from the dresser and rested it on his hip. ‘I won’t let you run yourself into the ground because of whatever it is you do at night.’

You huffed a breath. When he realized you weren’t going to answer him, he sighed through his nose.

‘I mean it. Take care of yourself, please. We’re all worried about you.’

‘I know,’ you said, voice hoarse. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Nothing to be sorry for. Just, please, actually sleep at night.’

- - -

The night after that, you finally found your answer. Sitting on the ground, skimming a very old, very tattered book. The writing was so worn it was barely readable in the candlelight.

What you were suffering from was a kind of curse. At least according to the book. It befell those who were unhappily in love. You frowned at that. Love was a bit of a strong word, wasn’t it? Sure, you were fond of Alucard, but love? A bit of a stretch. Right?

‘There you are,’ said Alucard. His sudden appearance made you jump; the books around you fell onto the ground with a thud.

‘Don’t scare me like that!’ You hadn’t even heard him approach.

‘Oh, please.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I’m losing sleep at night because you keep getting worse no matter what I do, and you’re sneaking into the library?’

You swallowed the petals threatening to spill out of your throat. ‘I’m looking for answers.’

‘Answers to what, exactly?’

‘To what’s wrong with me.’ You sighed and closed the book, hoping to whatever god was up there that he hadn't seen the page you were on. ‘No medicine is working, so I thought I’d do some… research myself.’

‘And did you find anything?’

You bit the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. Eventually, you settled on an answer. ‘No, not really.’

‘Then please, go back to bed and leave the research to me, okay?’ he said, kneeling on the floor next to you. ‘No need to push yourself like that.’

‘You’re right,’ you replied with a sigh, putting the book away.

One line burned itself into your mind; no cure.

- - -

And now, nearly half a year later, you were slowly trekking from the castle to Alucard and Greta’s new ‘office’; at least that’s what they called it. Initially, it was supposed to be the village’s control center, but, with time, it turned into their second house. They were spending more time there than in their castle chambers these days.

You expected Alucard to yell at you for doing all that cooking. You could hear him already. ‘You shouldn’t have done that’ and ‘Think of your health!’, and ‘You’re already weak as it is, what if something happened to you?’. To be perfectly honest, you found the way he worried about you so much quite endearing. It made you glad that, despite him being happily married, you still held an important spot in his heart.

You couldn’t say the same about some of your before-the-war friends, may the earth be light for them.

The basket was getting quite heavy though. As much as you wanted to deny it, it dug into your skin more and more with every step. The golden honeysuckles threatening to burst out of your chest certainly didn’t make anything easier.

Apparently they meant ‘devoted affection’ in the language of flowers. Well, at least that much was true when it came to your feelings for Alucard. Although you weren’t entirely sure if the kind of flowers really meant anything in the case of your curse. Maybe adding meaning to it all simply made your illness a bit easier to stomach for you. Maybe not.

The spot where the basket handle dug into your arm was starting to really hurt. Before this curse, your arms were something you were proud of — strong and reliable, the arms of a true archer. Now that all of your glory had been eaten away by the curse, all that remained of your previous profession were the calluses on your hands; eternal proof of what you used to be.

You started choking on your breath. Your legs dragged across the dirt road, leaving deep trenches in the fresh mud. Still, you pressed on. You were that much closer to Alucard and Greta’s new house. You weren’t going to give up now. Not when this could be the last birthday feast you’d ever throw for him.

Sweat dripped down your face. Some of it got into your eyes; the stinging blinded you for a moment. As you moved to wipe the sweat away, you lost footing on the slippery mud. You fell to the ground with a heavy thud, the side of your head colliding with a rock.

Blood pooled around you, drenching the warm food that spilled out of the basket you were cradling in your arms. And beside it all was a single, dirtied petal of honeysuckle.

The wind blew. The petal flew with it.

[randomwriteronline]

Something had to be done about warden Ingo.

Not about his memories or returning him to his homeland, because as sorry they could feel for his situation they had no way of helping with either of those problems - something more manageable.

About his hair.

Since he had been rescued and allowed to stay in the Pearl Clan, his hair had started growing out. And it had kept growing out. And it had continued to do so. As hair does. Which would have not been a problem if the man showed any signs of noticing that it was growing out and that he thought perhaps he should have given it a trim to keep it in check from time to time, but the more days passed the less he seemed concerned with it - if he was even aware of the disaster on his head at all.

At first it had been containable: Lian could easily tie it into a Stantler's tail with a headband, and young girls braided it when it began reaching below his shoulders.

But the way it had been previously cut caused the growth to be irregular at best and positively chaotic at worst, and as it just kept getting longer and longer the other wardens had realized a plan of action was necessary to prevent the strange man from becoming almost unrecognizable from a sopping wet Zoroark halfway through a transformation and ending up hunted for sport by frightened locals. The haunted vacuous look in his eyes would have done nothing to help the situation.

Lian, again, offered himself to cut the horrendous amount of not particularly clean hair. He was denied permission, because he was seven. Yes, he was also the warden of the Noble with enormous axes for hands, but this was different.

Gaeric tried a different approach: he could easily visualize within that Burmy's nest that was the other man's hair the roots for a massive and totallh sick pompadour-mullet hairstyle the likes of which had never before been seen by humankind, and instead of letting it go to waste he decided to break the idea to the interested party.

The grey haired warden fiddled with the visor of his cap: "That would hinder the position of my hat," he argued.

His hot tempered colleague shrugged: "Well, it is just a hat. You can always take it off."

Ingo stared at him dead in the eyes with a gaze that could have frightened a Ghost Pokémon to death.

"Never suggest something like that ever again." he ordered cooly.

So Gaeric's idea was scrapped.

The second volunteer for a proper cutting was rather surprisingly Lady Sneasler - who, while armed with a sweet sentiment, also had enormous hooked claws that could have accidentally decapitated the man, and as such was very kindly informed that the much smaller hands of the humans she oversaw would have been just fine for the task and she did not need to bother herself with these kind of frivolous matters.

Nobody asked Irida. She was so very busy already being leader, and playing hairdresser for some guy was out of the question.

(Also she only knew one way to cut hair.)

Calaba tried to take up the task: they collectively sat Ingo down, she got the scissors in hand, aimed for the sideburns, and almost chopped off his ear.

Palina decided maybe it was better if she was the one to try. She had at least some experience, trimming Arcanine's fur.

Starting from roughly the height of Ingo's lower ribs as he remained blissfully unaware of anything happening to him behind the empty glaze of his eyes, she struggled for a little while; at last, a considerate amount of silvery strands was laying down at her feet and the horrid mane was beginning to be finally placed under a semblance of control. She sighed in relief as she kept snipping away at larger and larger chunks, rising slowly right above his shoulders until-

The warden paled: “Oh fuck,” she whispered to herself, mortified, as between her fingers she clutched a strand that was way too long.

-

Arezu did not expect a small procession of Pearl Clan members to show up at her door. Iscan being the one to lead it was also confusing.

“They, uh,” he began, bashful, “They need help with, uhm. Hair.”

She blinked. She looked behind the his shoulder: her eyes fell on Ingo.

“Oh,” she furrowed her brows in a grimace: “They sure do.”

She took the horrendously haired man and shoved him on a seat, twirling scissors in her hand. In five minutes, Palina’s mistake was fixed; in ten, Ingo’s face was once again visible; in fifteen, his sideburns were reduced from literal bushes back to their vaguely original shape; in twenty, at last, his goddamned hair was back in a short, acceptable shape, and his hat could sit back upon his finally cleaner head.

The contact snapped him out of his daze, and he looked down at himself.

His hand pointed to his cut hair: “Whose fur is that?”

Lian opened his mouth; seeing the look Palina shot him, he closed it again.

“That’s... That’s your hair,” Iscan explained.

Ingo looked at him and shook his much lighter head: “My hair is not that long.”

“It sure as hell isn’t now,” Cabala replied bitterly.

[dragonkeeper19600]

Jaws: The Musical (Concept)

So, out of curiosity, I looked online to see if anyone had ever adapted a musical from Jaws. There is a musical called Bruce that’s scheduled to debut in Seattle next year about the production of Jaws (and I would be interested in seeing that), but as for a musical of the Jaws story itself, I found one that’s for kids and about 48 minutes long.

Now, I’ve never seen this musical, so I cannot attest as to its quality, but, in my opinion, both of those choices are wrong. This musical should be the full two acts, and it should be aimed at adults. 

I’ve been brainstorming, and I think I’ve got a hypothetical musical all mapped out. You might think a musical based on Jaws is silly, but a lot of successful musicals have been adapted from really strange things (such as a comic book artist’s coming-out memoir, a crappy Roger Corman movie, and a collection of goofy cat poems), and I feel like a Jaws musical could be really epic. The story easily lends itself into a two-act structure. The first act is the shark attacks on Amity Island, and the second act is the hunt for the shark in the Orca. 

However, the musical wouldn’t make the mistake of putting lyrics to John Williams’s iconic Jaws theme. The theme would obviously be used as a leitmotif throughout the show, but it’s not the type of song that lends itself to lyrics, and I think that would be corny,

So, the musical would play out like this:

ACT ONE:

The movie opened with Chrissie’s death, so the stage show will do the same. The scene will be short and all dialogue, no singing. The shark will also not be seen, but its presence will be implied by the music, lighting, and Chrissy’s acting.

First song: “Welcome to Amity Island.” Functions as an intro to the setting of Act One. The tone is joyous and celebratory as the islanders welcome the flood of tourists that always come in the summer. A big portion of the song is sung by Mayor Vaughn as he sings about what a wonderful vacation spot Amity Island is. We also meet Brody, and a dark undercurrent is introduced to the song as he finds Chrissy’s mangled body.

Brody, of course, takes steps to close the beach right away, but he’s stopped by the Mayor, who sings the second song, “Summer Dollars,” where the Mayor insists that closing the beaches is bad for the town and that Brody shouldn’t be causing an unnecessary panic and causing hysteria that could drive tourists away. Brody tries to argue back but in the end, Vaughn has his way.

Brody returns to the station, apprehensive about keeping the beaches open. Here, we’re introduced to Brody’s wife, Ellen, who saw no problem with visiting him at work since nothing ever happens on Amity Island. Brody expresses his uneasiness, but Ellen assures him that his fear of the water is making him overestimate the danger. This gets Brody’s coworkers curious, so, with a little prompting from Ellen, Brody sings his first solo, “Drowning,” about his fear of the water. In the song, Brody sings about a childhood incident where a bully held him underwater at a public swimming pool. Not only did this give him a fear of water, but the bullying he received as a child is what set him on the path to become a cop, since he wanted to be able to protect people from suffering the same mistreatment he did. However, he moved from New York City because the working environment there was unfriendly to cops who wish to protect and serve instead of, well, being typical American cops.

Next song: “Blue Sky” Just as the Mayor wished, the beaches are open, and summer is in full swing. Brody is there with his family, anxiously keeping an eye on the water. The rest of the ensemble doesn’t share his anxiety, however, as they frolic and play in the sun. Brody is jolted to his feet several times by the sound of screaming, but it’s always a false alarm. However, the mood turns scary as we segue into the next song:

“Shark!” - While out swimming on his raft, young Alex Kintner is attacked and eaten. Brody sees it and screams the title of the song. It’s pandemonium as people rush out of the water, and the song is fast-paced and chaotic. However, it ends on a mournfully quiet note as Mrs. Kintner calls for her son. (”Alex? Alex!?”)

Quick scene transition, and we move immediately into he next song, called “Something Must Be Done.” Here, at a town council meeting, the townspeople argue back and forth about what to do about their shark problem. I imagine the music here sounding like the “Mayor’s Meeting” theme from The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask. Brody argues strongly in favor of closing the beaches (in song, of course), but he is shut down not only by the Mayor but by the rest of the townspeople, who still rely on the income brought in by the tourists. People throw around various suggestions, with one woman finally declaring that she’ll reward whoever catches the shark with three thousand dollars. The song descends into a cacophony as people argue over each other.

The noise is interrupted by the screech of nails on a chalkboard. It’s Quint who sings the titular song, “Jaws,” as he sings about his job as a shark hunter and how dangerous sharks can be. (”Those jaws will swallow you whole. / A little shakin’, tenderizing’, down you go.”) He offers to kill the shark for ten grand, not three. The woman who made the offer balks at the high price, and the Mayor explains that kind of money isn’t in the budget “right now.” Quint takes it in stride and tells everyone they’ll know where to find him if they change their minds. He’s supposedly addressing the room, but he looks right at Brody as he says it. He can tell Brody is the only one who will actually listen.

Many sailors of various aptitudes come to Amity Island, hoping to catch the shark and cash in on that three thousand dollars. Among the new arrivals is Hooper, who introduces himself to Brody as a marine biologist from the Oceanographic Institute. Hooper sings his intro song, “Beautiful,” referring to his views on sharks. Hooper recounts how he was bitten by a shark as a child, but instead of coming to fear them, Hooper walked away fascinated by them and now views sharks to be beautiful creatures. However, the song takes a somber note as Hooper is brought in to examine Chrissie’s remains, and the word “Beautiful” is shifted from referring to sharks to referring to Chrissie when she was alive. (“She was just a kid. / So much of life to live. / Now, bits and scraps are all that’s left. / Of a girl who was once so beautiful.”)

“Hell of a Fish” - The fishermen succeed in catching a large tiger shark, presumed to be the shark that killed Alex and Chrissie. Brody joins in the celebratory atmosphere, but Hooper examines the dead shark’s teeth and is convinced they’ve got the wrong fish. The Mayor and the fisherman who caught the tiger shark argue that this is the shark that’s been causing the trouble, while Hooper argues back that it’s definitely not. Hooper angrily demands that he be allowed to dissect the shark to confirm whether there are human remains inside, but Mayor Vaughn rejects his request. He doesn't care if they’ve got the right shark. He doesn’t believe a third attack will happen either way. (”We’ve got a hell of a fish to show. / And shark attacks are pretty rare, you know?”) 

This song is interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Kintner, in funeral attire, who goes up to Brody and slaps him. She then sings “My Boy Is Dead,” a slow, tragic lament about her son, Alex. (“He was just a boy. His whole life still ahead. / Now, I’ll never know what he would’ve been. / Because my boy is dead.”) Mrs. Kintner blames Brody for not warning the town after Chrissie’s death, and Brody takes the blame to heart. The song ends with a callback to “Hell of a Fish,” as Hooper bitterly remarks that he hopes Mayor Vaughn is right about the tiger shark being the culprit, otherwise there’s a “hell of a fish” still out there somewhere.

“Cloud on the Horizon” - Song is kicked off by a TV reporter, who delivers a brief story to the audience about the recent shark attacks on Amity Island. The holiday-making resumes on Amity’s beaches, but people are more nervous than before, The ensemble sings amongst themselves about whether they should go in the water. They finally do so with a little encouragement from the Mayor. Meanwhile, Brody encourages his son Michael to stay in the shallow pond.

“Shark! (Reprise)” - A shark fin is spotted in the water, and the ensemble takes up the alarm, scrambling while frantically singing a reprise of “Shark!” However, the alarm dies down when the fin is revealed to be a fake worn by a swimmer. However, a lone woman takes up the cry again as the shark is spotted swimming toward the pond where Michael is. The music ramps up as the shark takes down a boater mere feet away from Michael, and the audience gets their first clear view of the shark.

“Red Sea” - The song functions as a reprise of “Blue Sky,” but also contains musical elements from “My Boy is Dead.” Brody pulls his son Michael out of the water, unsure of whether he’s still alive. Luckily, Michael is only in shock. Ellen runs to call for an ambulance. As he waits by Michael’s body, Brody sings his second solo, loudly berating everyone in town, including himself, for allowing this to happen three times. All of the beachgoers, including the Mayor, are cowed by his song.

“(Can’t Find) a Good Man” - This is the first song between all three crew members of the Orca. Brody goes to hire Quint to kill the shark, agreeing to pay whatever he wants. Quint knows he has Brody by the balls and keeps upping the price, demanding additional payments like various kinds of booze and a color TV in addition to the ten thousand dollars. Brody agrees to all of it, but Quint’s one crew member refuses to go out after the shark, so Quint fires him. Hooper and Brody volunteer to go along, but Quint is reluctant to bring them aboard. He contemplates whether he should go alone, since Hooper and Brody will be useless on deck. Hooper loudly argues that he's qualified and “doesn’t need this working class hero crap,” but Brody is more gentle and persuasive. He reminds Quint that his own son was nearly killed by this shark and feels he owes it to both his family and the town to help in whatever way he can. Quint is won over by Brody’s humility and agrees to take them both on.

“Farewell, Amity Island” - Reprise of “Welcome to Amity Island” and the Act One Finale. Like “Welcome to Amity Island,” this is a huge ensemble number, this time centering around the Orca’s upcoming departure. Several characters come to see the ship off as Quint yells at Hooper and Brody, including the Mayor and Ellen. The Mayor apologizes to Brody (“I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. / My own children were there in that same red sea.”), where Ellen bids a tearful farewell, knowing she might never see Brody again. Brody’s sung farewells are intercut with a spoken back and forth between Quint and Hooper, as Quint snarks at everything Hooper does. The song also contains instrumental traces of “Spanish Ladies.” Brody and Ellen’s embrace is broken up by Quint as the Orca shoves off.

ACT TWO:

After the act two opener (which is an instrumental of “Jaws,” the song Quint sang earlier), we return to the Orca where Quint fishes off the stern, loudly singing “Spanish Ladies” a cappella. It sounds pretty good, but he’s interrupted by Hooper, who yells that he’s been listening to Quint sing for three hours and can’t take it any more. Brody has no choice but to listen to the ensuing back and forth as he chums the water. 

The childish behavior is interrupted when Quint gets a bite. He's convinced it’s the shark, but Hooper, still annoyed with Quint, believes it’s some kind of sport fish. Hooper begrudgingly goes to help Quint pull in the line, but a moment of inattention causes the line to snap.

“City Hands” - Quint berates Hooper for losing the shark and trying to tell a professional shark hunter how to hunt sharks. Their animosity finally erupts into an angry duet as they hurl very personal insults at each other, with Hooper calling Quint a drunken, senile sea dog, while Quint berates Hooper for being a coddled, privileged city boy. Their musical fight looks like it’ll get physical when Hooper snatches the beer Quint was drinking out of his hand and chucks it into the ocean. Luckily, Brody breaks it up, pointedly reminding them why they’re here and that they don’t need to be at each other’s throats when the shark will gladly do that for them. Quint sheepishly apologizes to Brody and only Brody. Hooper likewise backs down.

Brody returns to chumming the water only to toss a shovelful of chum directly into the shark’s face. The shark is right beside the Orca, and it’s huge. There is an instrumental score but no singing as all three men work together to try and bring in the shark. The shark seems unfazed by all the bullets and harpoons they shoot into it, but they manage to attach one barrel to the shark. Quint is satisfied that the shark will tire itself out with the barrel attached and that all they have to do is wait it out. Brody is all for returning to shore and calling the Coast Guard, but Quint ignores him.

Scene transition, and we’re in the ship’s cabin that night. All three men are staying up to wait for the shark, and they’ve had a bit to drink. Quint catches Brody examining the rope burn he got on his hand earlier in the day and reassures him that it won't leave a permanent scar. This segues into the duet “Something Permanent,” as Hooper and Quint compare scars. The tone isn’t angry and harsh as before but jovial and upbeat. Clearly, the earlier animosity is forgiven. 

“Those Eyes” - This is Quint’s solo about the sinking of the Indianapolis. Brody asks Quint about a scar on his arm that he hasn’t mentioned. Quint offhandedly mentions it’s a tattoo he had removed. When Hooper makes a joke about it being a “Mother” tattoo, Quint informs him it’s actually for the U.S.S. Indianapolis. Hooper clearly knows the story, but Brody doesn't, so Quint tells it. The song is slow and eerie. The words “those eyes” are used to refer to both the sharks’ eyes and the eyes of his crew mates as they were devoured or lay dead in the water. Quint sings that he still sees those eyes looming up at him in the dark of the night. He then catches the looks on Brody and Hooper’s faces and chuckles darkly, telling them not to look at him with “those eyes.” After all, they delivered the bomb. No one comments on this, but all three men have now sung their backstories at some point in the show.

Hooper quietly starts to sing “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” The other two join in. Their singing is interrupted by the shark ramming into the ship.

The crew scramble back on deck. Quint, his mind still swimming in the memory of the Indianapolis, wildly fires a rifle at the shark, but he only succeeds in driving it away, Hooper goes belowdeck  to assess the damage. The ship can still run, but it’s struggling. Brody loudly advocates returning to shore, but Quint refuses.

The shark returns, leading to the next song, “Barrels.” The song has a lot of dialogue and instrumental but also functions as a reprise of “Something Permanent,” as Quint gleefully proclaims his intent to leave “something permanent” on the shark. The crew manages to attach three barrels to the shark, but they lose track of it again. 

Quint decides that since barrels and weapons don’t seem to be working, and the ship is only becoming more damaged, that the thing to do is lure the shark back to shore and drown it in the shallow water. Hooper warns Quint that he’s overtaxing the engine, but Quint only leans harder on the throttle. The engine gives out. 

Brody goes to the radio to call the Coast Guard for help but is shocked when Quint smashes the radio with a baseball bat before the message can get out. This leads to an even angrier reprise of “City Hands,” now with Brody insulting Quint instead of Hooper, calling him “certifiable.” Quint shouts more than sings that he can handle it and he doesn’t need rescuing “this time.” The song shifts to the slower, gentler melody that was used when Brody calmed Hooper and Quint before as Quint tells Brody he vowed that would never be helpless in the water again. Both Brody and Hooper, who was heard the entire outburst, are struck silent.

“Beautiful (Reprise)” - Hooper somberly volunteers to be lowered into the anti-shark cage. Brody argues against it, but, for once, Quint is willing to hear Hooper out. Hooper sings about how putting himself in harm’s way is his only chance to the tune of his intro song, “Beautiful.” Hooper then admits that Quint is right, he hasn’t been through what Quint has, but he’s willing to try and prove his worth. Quint and Brody realize they don't have much choice and agree.

Hooper goes into the cage. Brody takes Hooper’s glasses, and Hooper gives them both one last look before he puts on his mask and goes under. 

“In the Cage” - Instrumental. While below the water (which is just another part of the stage covered in blue spotlights), Hooper tries to attack the shark with the syringe on the end of a spear, but he drops it. The shark begins to break its way into the cage, but Hooper manages to escape and hides behind some rocks, apologizing to the men above for failing.

Quint and Brody, of course, can’t hear him, nor can they see what’s happening below. Quint and Brody pull up the cage to find it mangled and empty. Brody is devastated, thinking that Hooper is dead, but Quint seems to be truly unraveling. He sings a shaky reprise of “Those Eyes,” this time obsessing over the look Hooper gave them before he went under. He frantically recalls that he saw the same look on the faces of his crew mates after the sinking of the Indianapolis. Tragically, the song also functions as a callback to “My Boy Is Dead.” (”It’s far too late for me now to take back the things I’ve said. / They’ll haunt me ‘til my dying day. / Because that boy is dead.”)

“Quint’s End” - Instrumental, spoken dialogue. Quint can’t get the last image of Hooper out of his mind and begs him to stop looking at him like that. Brody is alarmed as Quint’s pleas to Hooper change to pleas to his dead crew mate, Herbie Robinson. Quint has slid into a full-blown PTSD flashback. In his mind, he’s back in the waters of the Pacific thirty years ago, surrounded by sharks and dead crew mates. Brody tries to calm Quint down by reminding him where he is, but at that moment, the shark leaps onto the stern, and the Orca lists backwards. (In my head, the Orca set is on some kind of platform that can be raised at an incline.) Both men begin to slide toward the waiting jaws of the shark. Brody manages to grab onto the door frame leading into the cabin. He tries to hold onto Quint, but Quint slips out of his hand. Quint tries to fight back against the shark, but with a sickening crunch, Quint falls silent. The shark retreats with Quint’s lifeless body.

“Smile!” - Payback time. The Orca is sinking fast, and Brody knows that if he ends up in the water, it’s game over. Brody manages to ward the shark off with one of Hooper’s scuba tanks. The shark takes the scuba tank into its mouth, giving Brody the chance to climb onto the mast with Quint’s rifle. The music ramps up in speed and intensity as the shark closes in. Brody’s singing ramps up to match as he fires at the shark again and again, reminding himself of his promise to protect others and vowing that this shark will never kill anyone again. Then, with a final, bombastic, “So, smile you son of a bitch!” he gets a hit on the tank, and the shark explodes. He whoops and hollers as the music swells.

The finale instrumental is both sad and sweet. The sinking mast deposits Brody in the water. Hooper surfaces besides him. They laugh together, relieved that it’s over. Hooper asks about Quint, but Brody only responds with the single word, “No.” Hooper and Brody are close enough to paddle back to shore, so they do just that. As they set off, Brody begins to sing, “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” Hooper joins in. The curtain falls.