#Con goes to the shadow realm
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A guy walked in wearing a kickass BEWD shirt and I told him that’s an awesome shirt and he goes “thanks! *smug voice* do you know what it’s from though?” Is Yugioh: Duel Monsters fucking niche enough to use that tone of voice on me? Is what is essentially the Pikachu of Yugioh: Duel Monsters a niche anime creature? Her name is written right there on your shirt also. Shall I name 5 other cards while I’m at it? Can you describe me 5 non-Duelmonsters shadow games from the OG?? I should have summoned Pillroach Credit Card. You have no idea just how much I know what your shirt is from.
#I’m not actually pissed just the concept is so funny. why r u being condescending to me my man it’s fucking Yu-Gi-Oh#Con stop yapping#Con goes to the shadow realm
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>> bones and ashes
⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me
Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.
Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.
And Sukuna is everything but weak.
He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.
This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.
The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.
Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.
There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.
When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.
Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.
Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.
“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”
You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.
Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”
You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”
He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”
“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”
Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”
“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”
This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”
“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”
The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”
Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”
“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”
“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”
His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”
“I w-would n-never…”
“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.
The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.
“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”
“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”
You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.
Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.
“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”
You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”
He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”
“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.
“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”
You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”
“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”
Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”
“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Sukuna,” you complete.
“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”
“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.
The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”
Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.
He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”
- ⚔️ -
Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.
Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.
Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.
Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.
You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.
“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”
You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.
You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.
Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.
You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.
However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.
Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.
Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.
It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.
Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.
He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.
He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.
So he keeps you.
It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.
“Undress,” he commands.
You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.
“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”
He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.
“So much, Sukuna.”
It’s more honest every time.
He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”
You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”
“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”
His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.
“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”
Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”
“I know you are,” he answers.
Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.
He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”
You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.
“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”
“W-Why?”
“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”
Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.
“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”
“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.
“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”
Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”
Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”
“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“
He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”
In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.
“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”
His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”
You nod. “Y-Yes.”
“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”
You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.
“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”
“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”
Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”
You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”
He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.
There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.
“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.
“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“
“Drink it.”
Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.
It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.
Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.
“… at me.”
This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.
“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.
You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.
“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”
And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.
You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”
“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”
The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.
“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”
Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.
Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.
“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”
He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”
You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”
Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”
“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.
“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”
Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”
“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”
#sukuna#sukuna smut#sukuna angst#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#jujutsu smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#ryomen sukuna#smut#jjk smut
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ROUND 5 MATCH 13: SCAR VS. SOUNDWAVE
Goodtimeswithscar from Third Life faces Soundwave from Transformers. Who do you like more?
Scar Propaganda:
"Swindling everyone is always great"
"The best time ever. Scitties. Jellie the cat. Mr Rizz himself. Ect."
"PLEASE THIRD LIFE SCAR IS JUST A LITTLE GUY JUST A LITTLE GUY WHO WANTS TO KEEP HIS SHIRT OFF AND CAUSE DEATH AND DESTRUCTION WITH HIS UNHINGED BESTIE AND HE LOVES WITH ALL HIS HEART HIS LLAMA NAMED PIZZA"
“scar is the server con man. he’s absolutely delightful. he’s got max charisma so he WILL sell you anything and everything. it will be useless but you will buy it anyway, sometime later this week he will also murder you. he tries to run a monopoly on sand whilst living in a giant desert. he sells “reputation points” to people under the promise that he won’t murder them if their scores are high enough (he’s lying), he will burn your precious tree down. he will turn and look to you with the sweetest voice and the most precious smile and declare that he’s going to murder everyone. and he will, you will too. and then he will let you beat him to death at the end of this brutal game. you won but at what cost? then you will jump to your death, because you cannot handle being the lone survivor.”
"VOTE SCAR OR ILL KILL YOU NOW in a chill and fun way tho"
"AWOOGA SCITTES"
"YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE GOOD TIMES"
"THAT FUCKING CACTUS CIRCLE"
"YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE GOOD TIMES"
"YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE GOOD TIMES"
"you are not immune to the good times"
"you are not immune to the good times"
Soundwave Propaganda:
"In like every show ever once he's not there/kidnapped/dead the entire Decepticon fucking faction goes to shambles. Ex: in transformers: Prime, (SPOILER!)
once he was "banished to the shadow realm" Megatron literally died and they lost the war 💀💀"
"Soundwave never loses in a poll"
"SOUNDWAVE MY BELOVED his back is so so sore from single-handedly holding up the Decepticon cause every vote for him is 1 more ibuprofen tablet given to him"
"Soundwave is the funniest fucking character in transformers because he's literally the straight man in every situation he's in with the decepticons, because all of them are absolutely incompetent at their job due to them being too focused on infighting. When Megatron died in FOC Soundwave was the one who literally put him back together and by extension, fucked everything over for everyone else because in this specific continuity Megatron just happened to be addicted to space meth.
However it can be so easy to see Soundwave as emotionless because of his straight-man role and his monotone speaking patterns, but Soundwave has plenty of emotions that he displays throughout the years, most notably being when he's dealing with the cassettes (aka his children), and can range from being soft-spoken with them, to full-out enabling their violent tendencies and letting them go ham at beating the shit out of teammates (shout out to that one g1 clip where Soundwave tries to hold back his kids for like a single second before saying "fuck it" and letting them go for the eyes).
Even outside of the cassettes though, he's very expressive in his own way. In fact, he's the KING of pettiness and sass when he wants to be. He literally plays his own supervillain music when walking the halls, he's not above insulting the other deceptions when their arguments are bullshit to him, even when faced with the destruction of the world he was like "nah" until he saw his boyfriend getting injured and went "REAL SHIT" (there's literally memes about this it's so funny). Speaking of friends, he actually has a lot of interesting dynamics with the people around him, especially when it comes to the decepticon high command. He's described as Megatron's most trusted advisor, he's somewhat amicable with Starscream (who's his own brand of frustration), and he and Shockwave even seem to get along pretty well (to the point they have a biologically fucked up tube son together?? It's been years since I've watched Siege but I swear that was what lead to Soundblaster), and did I mention he's gay? I'm pretty sure he and Cosmos are in a relationship together in the IDW comics or at least have a mutual attraction, it's cute.
Also speaking of IDW Soundwave: he likes elephants. They're his favourite animal and he loves them to the point where after he died in the comics, his kids specifically started targeting elephant poachers because they knew Soundwave would want that.
Have I mentioned he has a cat dad in the IDW comics. Like his dad is a literal robot cat that found him when he was having a sensory overload in the middle of the streets. Have these panels from when his dad died and he wasn't even there to see it! He just knew 💖
And have I mentioned he's met Fluttershy? Because he canonically met Fluttershy and let his cassettes play with her (while DELAYING HIS MISSION. THAT'S HUGE IN SOUNDWAVE LANGUAGE.)
There's also him being the reigning champion of best robot husband, but that's a whole other situation which is also really funny."
#polls#mr goodtimes#goodtimeswithscar#goodtimewithscar#third life gtws#third life smp#3lsmp#3rd life smp#3rd life#life series#transformers soundwave#soundwave#transformers
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🐉𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰🐉 (WORK IN PROCESS)
Including warnings, wether they were one-shots or bigger stories and other useful things like when I wrote them and how dark Aemond is in the stories. The list is a work in process so please be patient as I try my best to get it together:)) The princess of Dragonstone is fully published her and on archive.
My one shots are here as well.
The list is devided into older more dark and less polished content and warnings should be headed before clicking on anything of it.
BIGISH STORIES
🐲The princess of dragonstone🐲 Completed.
THE PRINCESS OF DRAGONSTONE IS COMPLETED AND HAS HER OWN BEAUTIFUL MASTERLIST HERE. DO MIND HER WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. THANK YOU.
🐝FIRE AND BLOOD🐝An intense story about two rivial brothers, doomed to always wanting to outshine each other, a civil war, and a noble girl who loses everything caught between them. Aemond x oc, Aegon x oc. Smut, dark smut, sharing, non-con, dub-con, brat-taming, slavexmaster things dom/sub themes and sadism as well as major characters death (but not aemond nor aegon or mc)
Chapter one: Lessons and punishments
Chapter Two: Plans and plots
Chapter Three: First times
Chapter Four: Jealousy
Chapter five: Death and duty
CHAPTER SIX: Punishment
Chapter seven: Aftermath
Chapter eight: Drinking
Chapter Nine: Battubs and compensation
Chapter ten: Pain and pleasure
Chapter eleven: The death of duty
Chapter 12: The death of duty
Chapter 13: That still small voice
Chapter 14: Kinslayer
Chapter 15: Dragons and the bee
Chapter 16: Last fluttering of wings
Chapter 17: The new norma;
Chapter 18: Reunion
Chapter 19: Queen of the Hive
Chapter 20: Fire and blood
Chapter 21 :the dance of two dragons
Chapter 22: a unwilling queen
FUTURE CHAPTERS ARE PLANNED FOR THIS FIC!!
❄️Snow Falls❄️ (x Aemond only) deliciously dark!Aemond, some say the darkest out of them. Aemond Targaryen is looking for allies in the North, for his brother's cause. So, he goes to the second biggest house in the North: House WyldeWoods of WyldeCrest. He takes a interest in the daughter of Lord Wyldewoods, the coy and mysterious lady Willa. She was never mentioned in the books discussing her familiy, and he wonders as to why that is. After Lord WyldeWoods makes some rather anti-Valyrian comments, Aemond takes you prisoner and beheads your family, claiming you as his wife and spoils of war.
CHAPTER ONE: Winter is coming
CHAPTER TWO: FIRSTS
CHAPTER THREE: SNOW DRIFTS
CHAPTER 4: THE PRICE
CHAPTER 5: ESCAPE
CHAPTER 6: THE FOX AND THE DRAGON
CHAPTER 7: THE THING YOU LOVE MOST
CHAPTER 8: THE PRICE OF GOLD
CHAPTER 9: SLAUGHTER OF INNOCENCE
CHAPTER 10: THINGS WE DO IN THE DARK
CHAPTER 11: The North remembers
CHAPTER 12: NIGHTMARES AND DAYDREAMS
CHAPTER 13: THE BURDEN
CHAPTER 14: REBELLION
CHAPTER 15: Fire and Blood
CHAPTER 16: AWAIT OUR TURN
CHAPTER 17: IF THE CARRIAGE IS ROCKING-
CHAPTER 18: READING
CHAPTER 19: KINGS AND QUEENS
CHAPTER 20: LESSONS IN THE BEDROOM
CHAPTER 21: The prince and the fox
Chapter 22:The bathroom
Chapter 23: The library
Chapter 24: The dining room
Chapter 25: Running around in circles
Chapter 26: Attonment
PILLARS OF SALT AND PILLARS OF SAND
Story about Harwins and Rhaenyra's daughter who bends the knee to Aegon to save Luc life. (Aegon central fanfic) Darkish (but aegon is not dark)
Chapter one: Storm's end
Chapter two: Alternatives
Chapter Three: Prisoner
Chapter four: A demented idea
Chapter five: The wrath of a mother
Chapter six: A shadow of a conquerer
Chapter seven: Two princesses, one dreamer
Chapter eight: Of wives and kings
Chapter nine: Those last moments of what we call ''freedom''
Chapter ten: The realms villian
Chapter eleven: One soul, one heart, one flesh
Chapter 12: The house that carried the dragon
Chapter 13: Gods, guts, gifts.
ONE SHOTS
Due to space issues, the one-shots wont be on my archive. You can find them here on tumblr:)
🦌Storm's ends fury 🦌
A short story about Maris Baratheon and her kiss with Aemond Targaryen at Storm's End. (Very short, barely 400)
🦌Fury's Storm, alternative version🦌
A short story very samilair to plot above might be a rewrite i did i cant recall how this ended up on my profile. Bratty Aemond though.
🐧The things we do for love 🐧(Dark!Aemond and Aegon capture daemons lover. Smut and other things) part 2 and now recently part 3
🧀Untiteld genderbend cheese assasin x aemond fanfic🧀 x aemond mostly
🌓The first night x aegon mostly🌓 A story about a girl marrying her love and Aegon and aemond getting upset with her breaking the laws.
🔫the devil made us sin criminal au story about criminal aegon and aemond 🔫
🌖For the night is dark and full of terrors: 🌖Priesteress mc who loves Aegon and her mother wants his throne
🔫The devil made us sin other version 🔫
🔫The devil made us sin gore aemond or aegon snippet🔫
🦌Storm born baratheon x aemond one shot. part 1 and 2 🦌
The maid of the red keep oneshot
Pirate mc one shot
The final devil made us sin and the best one at that part 2 is here
Lion brat part one
Spy queen x prince regent aemond
Aemond x Daemon one shot
GOTXHOTD One shot
ashes burn
The girl in the silver dress
Daddy dearest
Sandstorm
----
Updated on October 22 2023
#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#dark aemond targaryen#house of the dragon fanfiction#dark aemond targaryen x oc#aegon ii targaryen#dark aegon ii targaryen#dark aemond targaryen x reader#aemond one eye fanfiction#hotd#hotd fanficion#hotd x reader#hotd smut#dark aemond fanfic#dark aemond smut#masterlist for safely in the belly#aemond one eye#aemond x you#non con#gore#blood#death#major character deaths#spoilers in some cases#18+ mdni#fics#Dark#dark!#head the warnings#DarkFantasy
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The Dream That Got Away
Chapter 20
Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)
**********************************************************
Link to the Masterlist
Overall Warnings!! Take heed:
Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay
18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language
DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes
Character death (sort of)
Creator vs Creation drama
And other dark stuff that may be added in the future
This chapter’s warnings:
Graphic death
Some consensual smut!
Manipulation, gaslighting, you name it, we have it lol
Barely edited, please bear with me
You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!
Link to the previous chapter
Chapter 20: The Abyss Gazes Back
Dream of the Endless hummed to himself, blending into the shadows of the street corner, as he observed the tavern entrance from a considerable distance. With a curl of his lips, he watched as the establishment’s keeper unceremoniously threw out the last of its rowdy patrons into the streets and closed its door for the night with a curse that alluded to their mothers and their genitalia. Undeterred, the group, composed of four, got to their feet in a wobbly fashion and erupted in raucous laughter and tuneless singing before prancing off home, as he correctly surmised. One of them, an out-of-work farmer whose lands he sold having fallen on hard times, would later arrive at his home and beat his wife and son before landing on a patch of hay and dreaming of buying back his farm. Dream knows. He always does.
He had had enough of human debauchery, he thought. How his sister managed to last an entire day in their company was beyond his fathoming. He left the corner he had hidden in and decided he’d take a stroll along the now empty, straight, concrete path before returning to his realm. He wouldn’t be returning to the Waking World in another hundred years, perhaps.
Then he heard a pair of dainty footsteps behind him. It was you.
He had known for quite a while that you had taken an interest in him. Such a curious little thing you were, but he regrettably had not had time to indulge you in your dreams.
No matter, now. You were here, and you had found him.
“Wait!” He heard you call out so desperately.
He made up his mind in an instant. He was going to humour you, his curious little dreamer, if only for his amusement. If you proved to be worth his while, his trip to this decaying world might not be such a waste. He let his physical form vanish into sand just as he heard you reach him. Without making a noise, his form rematerialized behind you while you observed the sand falling into the stone path.
It was a mere jest, but he could not have you wait any longer, not when you’ve wandered so far away from home to come and seek him.
And so, he addressed you.
You jostled around, startled, and you even put up your fists as a reflex, he noted with faint amusement. But then your eyes widened, and you lowered your guard. You bowed to him and apologised. How could you think of yourself to be a disturbance to him, when you had braved unknown lands just to seek him?
“And you have found me. You are a long way from home, little dreamer. Now tell me what it is you seek.”
He had an inkling what you came to him for, but he needed to hear it from you.
“But it was you, yourself, that I sought.”
The pinkish tinge on your cheeks as you declared your purpose did not escape his discerning eyes. He had not had anyone seek him so, not since…
He invited you to walk with him as he did your uncle. You stayed quiet, for a while, perhaps out of bashfulness. He decided he didn’t like it when you held back from him.
“I take it you have not journeyed far only to accompany me for a stroll.”
And you laughed. It was such a short, sweet sound that you made…
You asked if he knew of your uncle, who had been unforgettable in his own right. He replied with a memory of how the sculptor caught his attention.
You spoke of how fond he was about his craft, and how he’s had difficulty finding the heart to indulge in its creation. He only hummed and tilted his head, intending to bring you close to the lake and away from the centre of the city that reeked of human filth. He wasn’t quite fond of the idea of you being marred with it.
And you went on about how you thought his meeting with your uncle and him taking to his craft once more was no mere chance. He noted your expectant gaze, and how it turned from him towards the view of the lake, then back to his eyes. He felt a mild twinge of dismay at what you had insinuated. And he had dared hope…
“Am I to understand that you’ve braved this long journey for a boon of your own?”
But your reply completely caught him by surprise.
“I just needed to know that you, and others like you, have not truly abandoned humanity.”
Is that what brought you to him: your love for your kind? Awestruck with your response, he barely registered that the both of you had reached the riverbank - he beheld your face and felt your ache for the grim plight of the people of your time. Some of the gods he knew had indeed grown tired of humanity, and while Dream himself had at times held mild disdain for some of your kind, he knew he could never turn away from Waking World, no matter how heavy of a burden his responsibilities were.
But, for them - him - to abandon you?
“Why would you think that of us, little dreamer?”
He was curious now, and you had everything to do with it. He closed the distance between you just so he could observe more of the enigma that was you.
Then you recounted how your family had produced so many works of art and have written literature and produced plays to honour his kind - they should be in his library tucked safely away, and he made a mental note to peruse them sometime - and you revealed that the gods’ absence was a punishment for humanity’s unspeakable sins…
“…So there, that is why I came to find you. And getting to meet you like this in person…I’m glad that some of you still walk among us.”
Your dream presented itself to him plainly: you sought more inspiration for your fellow human beings - the kind that breathed passion into their bleak lives, however it manifested. The way you poured your heart out to him, selflessly seeking no material gain for yourself and searching for something meaningful your kind could latch on to for hope in these dark times…and of all the powerful deities you could pray to, you came to him instead. The thought was enough to give him a rush he had not felt in aeons. Your meeting was fated, that he knew.
So much evil, depravity and death he has seen of humanity, and right before him was the personification of passion, of life itself, blooming so brightly under the silvery glow of the moon…
You were the most beautiful human he’s laid his eyes on.
“...I forgot to ask your name!” you fretfully said.
For the first time that night, Dream of the Endless felt a smile forming on his lips.
“I am Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams,” he declared. It gave him satisfaction seeing how shivered before him and froze to your spot, whispering to yourself a moniker he also went by, indicating you knew of him. He stared unabashedly, transfixed at the way your lips moved.
They looked so soft - would they feel soft on his, too?
“You may address me as Morpheus.”
Oh, the way he relished his name on your lips…
“... my name is -”
“I know who you are, Mera,” Dream whispered. Mera, his little dreamer. Your father was apt to name you so. The Creator had moulded you so perfectly.
“I have never met anyone quite just like you. Are you sure you’ve no desire for a boon? I can give you many things, everything you’ve dreamed of - you need only ask.”
And it was true: you could ask him for his sand, his helm, or his ruby, and he would give it without a moment’s hesitation. He knew, however, that he could never tempt you with power, or material riches. Of course, you politely declined his offer. Yet, bubbling within him was this strong desire to whisk you to the Dreaming, where you could be far away from his dreadful place and you could remain untainted by the misfortune of man.
“Will I see you again?” you innocently asked him.
Dream of the Endless felt his physical heart flutter as his eyes roamed your face and gazed into those bright eyes. He wanted to see more of you, so he dipped his head closer.
“Will that please you Mera?” he responded as softly as he could.
“If it isn’t much of a bother.”
“If my little dreamer wishes so.”
How could he deny you of something so inconsequential? It was, after all, the only request you have asked of him so far.
Finally, he could no longer help himself - he allowed his fingers to brush against your cheek - you were so soft against his touch. He used his sand to lull you into a dream he knew you’d appreciate. Fast asleep, you tipped forward and he caught you in his arms.
As your breath tickled his clothed chest, his mind was racing with tumultuous thoughts. He could do it now - bring you to his realm. He could keep you there for eternity, where he could ensure that you stayed happy and wanted for nothing.
He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he fell in love, hard and fast, with the human he held close to his heart, in deep sleep and blissfully unaware of the desire that plagued him.
But as he stroked your hair with all the gentleness in the world, memories of a once majestic city crumbling before the eyes of his former lover invaded his mind.
Nada had once lamented the cruel fate the love of an Endless would bring to a mortal. Could he be selfish with you like he did with her and risk bringing that deluge upon you?
Using his sand, he went through your thoughts to find the room in which you stayed and brought you there instead. Gently, he laid you down on the bed and made sure you were tucked fully under the covers (he didn’t like the sheets, they were far too rough - if he had his way, you’d be in his own quarters, tucked in rich fabrics of velvet and silk).
With a conflicted sigh, he let his fingers skim your soft cheeks. You looked so pure and innocent in your sleep, safely tucked away in your personal little corner of his realm. He made a quiet vow to watch over you in your dreams and in the Waking World when he can. What wonders awaited him in your dreams, he could not wait to witness for himself. He hovered over you, allowing himself the little pleasure of planting a lingering kiss on your forehead and pulling away before his self-control waned and he let his desire of spiriting you away take over.
Reluctantly, the King of Dreams leaves you alone in your room and returns to his kingdom, all while pining for a love he knew could never be.
***
It took every ounce of his willpower not to grab you by the shoulders and pull you into a kiss as you openly gaped at the beauty that was the Dreaming.
He’d been watching over you for weeks, ensuring your dreams were nothing but perfect, at times even crafting them himself. Not wanting to scare you away, he used the time to get to know his precious little dreamer by way of your dreams - he’d combed through your memories and studied the people you had chosen to grace your presence with. He troubled Lucienne to scour the library in search of your works - the songs you sang, the poetry you sometimes read to the peasants in the tavern, the plays you and your cousins would enact to the townsfolk’s delectation - for them, it was an escape from their dreary lives, something they look forward to after a hard day’s work. Everyone you touched with your creation was left taken by your beauty and inspired by your message. There was hope in the air where you lived, all because of the joy you spread with your art.
He could not have chosen a better human to fall head-over-heels for.
When he finally invited you to his palace and escort you around his realm, he ensured a majestic display of his creation, and in every corner, you turned to you gasped in awe and squealed in delight - he had watched you, his insides inwardly singing, as you ran excitedly around his library, that even Lucienne did not have the heart to admonish you for making such a racket. His joy from that day was such that for the days that followed the Dreaming saw every tree and bush bloom with flowers of every colour, permeating the air of the realm with their fresh, sweet aromas.
And so, your regular visits began, and in these visits, he ensured you spent time alone with him, even if it was in companionable silence. When you conversed, he found you to be well-versed in every topic, and when he was faced with troubles concerning the nature of humans, he sought your counsel.
And one day, he heard you sing. You sang of love and pain and of life and death - haunting melodies that have not been sung in his halls since the days of Orpheus.
He then began to tell you of the tale - how his son fell into despair at the death of his wife, and how he met a terrible fate at the hands of the Maenads after failing to take her back from the Underworld. After he had confided, you had offered your hand in comfort, and he held on to it; he would not have let go of it, too, if you had not been woken up and torn away from his grasp. The hand you had so lovingly held in your warmth, he cradled to his heart for a long moment, until his duties called to him once more. He’s had a taste of your touch, no matter how fleeting, and he yearned for more of it.
It was then that he decided he could not spend eternity without it.
But, you were not spared of your own sorrows in the Waking World. He had heard of your father’s plan to have you wed to your childhood friend whom he knows you do not love. This was a fact he had known since he combed through your memories, and he had refused to acknowledge it until it was considered an official matter among your family members. Perhaps, he could confess, then, before it was too late? Damn the curse - he could find a way to rescue you from it, take you from the Waking World to his realm so you could be spared from it?
That’s why he did not understand how you came to him with the news of your engagement in such light spirits - how could you agree to this loveless marriage? Why couldn’t you see how you were meant to stay by his side, instead? How could you, someone he actually came to trust with his heart, toss it aside so nonchalantly?
He was terse when he wished you well in your betrothal and had abruptly left, using his work as an excuse. He could not find the strength to face you then, nor could he stop you from your decision - if you were happy with that mortal man, there was nothing else he could do.
So, as he dedicated himself to his kingdom day and night, he refused to see you and be in your presence. He even contemplated banishing you so he could start forgetting you, but in the end, he couldn’t find it in himself to turn you away.
The realm grew cold and hostile, mirroring its king’s state of mind; rains became the norm, as were the grey skies and the gloom they gave the entire kingdom. Still, you had kept visiting, although the occurrence had lessened. You began to ask for him every time you came, wondering where he was, or if he was ill. Lucienne had relayed your wish to see him, but he refused every instance. He could not face you without cursing the man you had chosen over him - he could give him nightmares, he supposed, but he knows you could be affected by his eventual misery - instead, he scrapped the thought and allowed himself to brood. Maybe, he could wait until your death; he could claim your soul for his own, then - after all, his sister could be easily reasoned with, he thought halfheartedly.
Still, it touched him so when you kept asking to see him even if you were always refused. He dared not hope you’d have a change of heart, so in the meantime, he purposefully avoided you until he found a way to make you his without the curse befalling you.
Overall, he despaired as he watched you slowly fall in love with your mortal husband, having already run out of ways, and of time, to win your heart.
Perhaps his tipping point was the day you arrived on the shores of his realm with a life force growing in your womb.
He had felt it the moment you arrived in his realm, and when he approached you, you wore a small smile on your face - he’s missed that smile - he revealed his knowledge of the child you carried while avoiding the bitterness in his tones, but inside he was bubbling with outrage and jealousy, unlike anything he had ever felt. Perhaps, if he had acted quicker than he had, that child could’ve been his, even if admittedly he had no intention of siring a child too soon after the tragedy that was once his son. Still, the hollow pain ate at him and even if he tried showing none of it, the skies above him shared his sentiments:
How could you willingly let that mortal reduce you to a mere broodmare when you were clearly made for something so much more? Could you not see how that man was extinguishing your light? Dream had been watching your books in his library, and the more time you spent with your husband, the more the latest pages remained empty - you’d forsaken your art in exchange for a life beneath your stature. That man has brainwashed you into thinking that was a life fitting for the personification of hope and inspiration, and it filled Dream to the brim with a sense of righteous vengeance that sought the blood of the man that dared snared you from under his nose.
Darius, his name was - he did not deserve you, not a single hair of you; and if he needed to take drastic measures to rescue you from a life of emptiness, then it would be so.
And with that thought in mind, he took his leave of you on the shores with a single promise:
“Fear not, my dreamer, I shall not forsake you again.”
***
“You summoned me, my Lord?”
With his back turned to his greatest masterpiece of a nightmare yet, Dream of the Endless hummed in response as he gazed at nothing but the winding staircase to the throne that lay before him.
“I need you, my little nightmare, to gather two more of your kind - just as devastating, just powerful. Choose your company wisely, for the task I have for you is a gamble that I am not willing to lose,” the King spoke with a sense of purpose.
The Corinthian awaited his Lord’s command with bated breath.
“You are to work on the man who is called Darius Manius. You are to torment him in his dreams with all your power, and ensure he remembers none of it once he wakes.”
“What is the goal here, my Lord?” the nightmare asked with every bit of interest laced in his voice.
“I need him to kill his wife in her sleep.”
As his nightmare bid farewell and took his leave, the King of Dreams sat on his throne with one less worry in his heart. He was patient, and he would play this out to the end: your death, at the hands of your husband, would be the only way you could avoid a curse being placed upon you, and he would be there at the hour of your death to hold your hand, and finally offer you an eternity in his realm.
It won’t be long now, and you’ll be free.
***
The day you died in his arms was the day he admitted he may have gone too far.
You came to him that day, exhausted from giving birth, yet, you stood with pride before him in his throne room, beaming with the glow only a new mother would possess. He congratulated you with all his heart, recalling the same feeling his former wife, Calliope, must’ve felt the day their Orpheus was born. He held no grudge against your child, for his was of the same blood running in your veins, and your blood was pure and precious.
But his perceptive eyes could see something was wrong. He knew it was your husband - such a fragile mind could only hold out for so long with such potent nightmares his creations have been shaping at his behest.
“Tell me what he has done,” he said, but you were hardly able to shake your head before it happened.
Blood. So much blood started seeping through your gown, flowing from your chest. Your hand travelled to your heart, but his eyes only beheld your face, contorted in anguish. He ran to you at once, alarmed by what he was witnessing.
His plan was at work, he just had not expected to witness such a gruesome sight.
Right over your heart was a gash where the blood flowed, likely of your husband’s doing, whose mind had finally snapped due to the terrors his nightmares have inflicted. Understandably, you were confused, you were screaming and wondering what was going on, and it hurt him to see you in agony, so he cupped your cheeks in an attempt to somehow alleviate your pain.
This was his doing. He’d gone too far.
“My Mera, none can hurt you whilst you’re here in my realm. But in the Waking World, where your physical form lies…”
Your body could still be harmed. But, he didn’t have to say it. You were sharp enough to come to the correct conclusion.
“I’m dying, aren’t I?”
He let you completely collapse in his arms as you wailed against his cloak. But amidst your sorrowful screaming, he strengthened his resolve: this was for your own good. He was doing all this for you. When your crying had waned, he heard you whisper, “What of my son?”
Using his powers, his blue eyes shifted to depthless ink as he accessed the view of your room in the Waking. He had no time to consider shielding you from such a macabre sight, so your view was just as clear as his was: the evidence of his nightmares’ work of art on Darius’ mind - your mangled body at its death rattle, your child screaming in its crib for a mother who could never wake up again, and the man you chose to spend the rest of your days with, hovering over his only, newborn son, ready to deliver a fatal strike.
Caius - you named your son - was never supposed to be a casualty.
He could only look on as the blade pierced through the helpless child’s body, and held you even closer to his heart as you let out a piercing wail.
He was well aware he could block out the view of your son’s mutilated, lifeless body from his view - after all, it painfully reminded him of the loss of his own son, but he gritted his teeth as he stared unflinchingly, while you fell apart in his embrace in grief he could not comfort you from.
This was his punishment for letting you die so he could have you. This was the price he had to pay for his own covetousness: to watch you go through the agony of dying and losing your son all in one night…
And so he endured your cries.
The words he could offer, he knew would not ease your grief, but he said them anyway.
“My dear Mera, take comfort in the thought that my sister is kind, and she will ferry your son to the Sunless lands in her embrace.”
“Will she take me, too?” you asked him.
Dream bristled inwardly at the thought of you being swept away from him, and by his sweet sister, no less. He would never allow it. He’d never let you leave.
“No.” He drew your body closer to his, and said unwaveringly, “No. You are of the Dreaming, now. She can never take you away from me. From my realm. I will be your home if you will have me.”
As you leaned into his touch further, he felt hope inside him blossom. You were grieving, and he was aware it would take time before that pain faded away, but if this was the only way he could have you, then he would wait. You were fated to be with him, that he understood since the night he had laid eyes on you.
Your grief was his punishment.
***
Dream of the Endless went above and beyond to see to it that you wanted for nothing.
Even for months after your passing, he was aware you still mourned even if you refused to talk about it to anyone, including himself. To pass the time, he knew you had been offering your help around with the palace staff - he wouldn’t allow that to continue in the future, of course, but he deduced it as your only source of distraction. He wasn’t one to take that meagre source of comfort for you, so he let the matter be.
It offered you very little reprieve, it seemed, for as a great hush fell in the Dreaming night after night, you’d wander to the shores of the sea where the dreams lie, and, settling on the sand with your knees close, you’d gaze forlornly into the waters as if you wished nothing but to drown in them.
He could no longer help himself that night, so made his way to you. You were so immersed in your own world you did not hear him, and when he reached you, he offered his hand, which you readily accepted. He noticed you never broke eye contact. That was a good sign.
“Why do you stare at the waters so, my little dreamer?” he asked curiously.
With a deep sigh, you admitted truthfully to him how you wanted to know what the waters held. It was a simple request he could grant. He made up his mind at that very moment and offered you a deal.
“I shall make you my dream, and you shall traverse those waters, and in them, you shall find happiness once more.”
Perhaps he was being impulsive - he found that he tended to be so with matters that concerned you - but to be truthful to himself, he had been thinking what you would be like had you been his creation. There was no doubt, to him, that you would be perfect for the role he had in mind.
“You would do that, my Lord?” you whispered with so much hope in your tone.
“I ask only one thing.”
“Name it, my Lord.”
“You love. I long for it. I crave it,” he said softly, so intensely, lowering his head to yours so you were but inches away from him - so close he got a whiff of your sweet, floral scent, it almost drove him to insanity.
He saw your expression shift from adoration to astonishment - how could this be a surprise to you when he had but given you his kingdom as your home?
“How could you seek my love when you can have anyone else’s? Surely you have suitors more worthy of you, my King.”
You dared speak as if your love wasn’t worthy of him, when there was no other he deemed worthy of his own? He would not have it.
“No, their love is nothing compared to yours. I have seen it in your dreams, and in the Waking World. There is none like it.”
He gazed unwaveringly into your eyes, hoping you could see his truth: it was only you since that moonlit night on the lake, and it would always be you until he was Endless no more.
“Your heart is already so full, yet it still holds so much space for my realm, and I know you will never run out of it. Devote it to me, Mera, my dream, and I will give you the ability to form dreams that will fill the hearts and minds of mortals with the same passion for life as you have. Above all, I will give you my heart, and all the love it has held for you since the night we met.”
He waited anxiously as you paused as if contemplating his offer.
“And you shall have it, my Lord. All of it.”
And just like that, Dream had everything in the universe he desired.
***
The Dream Lord’s lips were instantly on yours when you had finished uttering your oath to him. His kiss started soft, but when he felt you respond to him the kiss turned more heated, hungry, almost overwhelming, but you held steadfast. He held you like he feared you’d run away, so you kissed him as fervently as you could, hoping you’d assure him that you had nowhere to be except in his arms. He seemed to discern this, for he broke the kiss, although with much reluctance and swept you in arms, and thus he carried you from the sandy shores, across the Dreaming and into his palace like his bride - which, in many ways, you were, and his eyes, which had gotten a silver hue, told of the love and longing a man possessed at the day of his wedding. That fiery gaze of his never left yours as carried you to his chambers and laid you down on his bed. You lost count that night of how many times he made his love known to you. Even after you were utterly spent and unable to move owing to his fervent love-making, he held you close to his heart until you drifted off to sleep, and sleep you did, fitfully, for the first time since the day of your death.
While he was gentle with you in the company of others, he was intense and all-consuming in the privacy of your chambers. Your nights with him were filled with love-making so fiery, so passionate, and unlike any night your previous husband had spent with you - he would spend hours and hours giving you such burning passion until you shattered, limp and breathless underneath him, and he held you in his arms with such burning love and whispered promises of eternity filled with bliss in all the languages he knew, and he made sure all of his realm heard it: you were his, from the moment you pledged him your soul, until the end of time, and all of his realm knew of it.
He taught you everything there is to know about forming dreams. With your arms linked together, he took you to the sea of dreams to witness for yourself the wonders of the human collective unconscious, and under his tutelage, you formed dreams of inspiration for countless humans like yourself - you were quite good at it too, for you were aware of the plight of humans and you knew their nature by heart. You’ve developed quite a routine in no time, coming and going as you please in the Dreaming waters during the day and sharing the King’s bed during the night. Sorrows followed you no more, and in the several years that passed, your son’s unfortunate fate became nothing but a memory of a former life you could barely remember. You were truly happy.
Just like the Dream Lord had promised.
***
You met him one day in the dreams of a blacksmith: your Lord’s perfect nightmare, he was called.
The Corinthian.
You couldn’t always control where the waters took you, and that day was one such day. You arrived in the dream just in time to witness the wonderful horror that was the Corinthian’s work: the nightmare, hovering on all fours over the blacksmith’s only son, his thumbs squeezing his victim’s eye sockets as the dreamer watched, screaming in sheer terror. You stood transfixed, mesmerised, as the Corinthian gobbled up his prize using the mouths that replaced his eye sockets before they licked the blood clean with their tiny tongues.
He raised his head from his handiwork and grinned at you, then made the vision fade, leaving nothing but an empty dream-workshop and the dreamer cowering in its corner. He got to his feet and made his way to you. Speechless, you tip your head slightly in greeting.
His work was legendary, even among your kind.
“You’re the new dream, aren’t you?” He spoke, pointing lazily at you with a blood-coated forefinger.
You could only nod, still in awe in the presence of one of your Lord's finest creations. “Corinthian. Your reputation precedes you,” you replied. “It’s an honour to finally meet you.”
“Is that so?” he said with a lopsided grin as he placed his hands inside his trouser pockets. “Had I known I was popular among you dreams, I might be inclined to spend more time with your sort.”
Both of you stood for a moment in awkward silence, assessing each other curiously. There was something about him so familiar - it wasn’t so much a smell, but an air about him. “Forgive me for saying so, but have you been to the Waking World?”
He chuckled, donning an impressed expression. “What gave it away?”
“I can sense it, I guess,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve lived there before.”
“You have sharp senses,” he complimented as he took a silver dagger out of his robes and wiped the caked blood off it with a cloth before placing it back with a pat. He seemed fond of the weapon.
“I was told we weren’t allowed to enter the Waking World.”
“Will you tell our Lord, then?”
You paused at his question. The King had explicitly instructed you never to go back to the realm of the mortals, but perhaps being his favourite nightmare came with certain privileges. “No, I was merely intrigued, is all.”
“As am I...” His smirk widening, he continued, “About the circumstances leading to your…employment. You met an untimely death in your sleep, am I correct?”
“I did.”
The Corinthian perked up even more. “Oh? But, I must know! Spare me no detail.”
“I entrusted a person with my life, but he took it, in the end,” you responded in a clipped manner. The blacksmith, cowering in the corner of his own dream, let out a pained, pitiful moan as if recalling the horrific sight of his son being murdered right before his eyes. Even in a dream, it seemed just as traumatic for him.
The Corinthian, ignoring the dreamer, continued, “May I ask why you have accepted our Lord's offer to stay in his realm? I hear Lady Death is pleasant company.”
You smiled slightly at the mention of Lady Death, inwardly wondering what it would be like to pass while she held your hand in hers. “Be that as it may, I thought I could be of more use here than simply moving on.”
The nightmare before you tilted his head. “I take it you trusted our Dream Lord and his intentions?”
“Without a doubt. Forgive me, fellow dream, but is there a reason for your line of questioning?” Wary of his conversation, you cross your arms and regard the nightmare suspiciously.
Not to be deterred, he seemed to grow bolder, as if taunting you. “I'm sure you've wondered why your husband seemed to have snapped and decided to murder you and your child in cold blood.”
Your expression turned sharp and asked bluntly, “How did you know that?”
The nightmare just winked. “I know more than you think, doll. While I am not allowed to divulge such...details, I'm sure I have quite the freedom to advise you this: do not place your trust on Morpheus.” He started walking away, but then turned his head back lazily and added, “And if you happen to spend your free time in the Royal Library, why not try borrowing your husband's book of dreams? I'm sure it'll make for an interesting read. It must be getting late. Forgive me, I must run. Until our next meeting.” He gave you a two-finger salute before vanishing. Where to, you had no clue, but he was able to give you something to think about: perhaps it was time you faced the truth about Darius, even if you risked opening wounds that had barely started to heal.
***
“Mera, forgive me for asking, but why would you be looking for your husband’s book?”
You faced Lucienne’s worried face with an almost guilty look, fidgeting with your gown as you did. You had torn through the entire library during what remained of the time you had in the Dreaming when you weren’t out to the ocean of dreams helping the humans. You had been through every shelf for the past three months, but there was no sign of Darius’s book in any of them, no matter how many times you’ve combed them through. If there was anyone in the realm who knew where every single book was, it was the Royal librarian herself.
“I’m just curious. There has to be a reason why he did what he did. He is…was a good person, until..well, you know what happened.”
You bit the insides of your cheeks, flashing her a hopeful look. She squashed that almost immediately.
“The Dream Lord had taken great lengths to save you from the pain, Mera.” She clasped her hands together over her desk while peering at you with a chastising look.
Ah, yes. The King of Dreams. He had been rather protective of you since the night you became lovers, which was nothing short of what you expected of him. He could be a tad excessive at times, in your opinion, but you were mortal once - the Endless, immortal beings they were, could be very strange by mortal standards. Still…
“Maybe I don’t need to be saved from it.”
Lucienne let out a deep sigh. “Mera, there is no easy way to say this, but Darius, he…he has taken his own life.”
You blinked several times, unsure of what you heard.
“I know not the reason, but perhaps he was unable to face your father. He and your uncle were out for blood when they found out. They were planning to execute him for what he’s done to you and your son.”
Your mind drew to a blank, but you managed to faintly ask:
“When?”
“It was three days after he…what he did was awful, Mera. I’m sorry.”
Lucienne stood from behind her desk and made her way to you. She hugged your unmoving body, and whispered, “I truly am.”
You wanted to hug her back, but you noticed you couldn’t even raise your hands - they were shaking badly, as was your entire body. You looked down at Lucienne’s robes and realised you’d gotten them wet.
Tears. You couldn’t stop them from flowing. Why would you mourn for the man who killed you?
But that wasn’t just who he was to you, was he? He was your best friend. The man you’d fallen in love with. The father of your child.
He was the Darius you had known and loved. So, you allowed yourself to cry for your best friend, the man you had loved, the man you had willingly given your heart to.
***
You waited dutifully for your King that night in his chambers, aware that he might have already found out about your little raid in his library. You had, of course, braced yourself for any consequences that may lead to your actions. Would he be mad at you? Disappointed? Will he take away his gift of life to you as his dream? You had expected just about everything the Endless may do in his wrath.
You had not expected him to be upon you immediately when he arrives, tearing your clothes off like it was his last day in the universe and barely making it onto his bed where he roughly made love to you over and over, until you laid underneath him, every ounce of your energy drained trying to keep up with him.
You were on your stomach, panting heavily, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin as he caressed your shoulders with his mouth. You then felt his lips hover over your ear and whispered:
“Was that better than your husband did, my dream?”
There it was - that bitter jealousy you had been expecting. He gripped your wrists with unnecessary force, waiting for your response.
But you hadn’t come up with any, so he growled in your ear and asked, his tone laced with venom:
“That pathetic excuse of a man…do you still love him? After all that he did to you?”
From above you, you felt his body shift slightly, and once more, you felt the tip of his cock probe your tease your entrance before plunging it inside fully, earning a gasp of pleasure from you.
As his thrusts filled you with utter ecstasy, you could feel his palpable ire enveloping your entire form, your lips trembling as you responded, “My Lord, you know that’s not true. I still love him, but not like I love you - ah!”
He changed the angle of his hips slightly and the thrust he gave made you cry out as he hit a spot in your core, already sensitive from your previous love-making. He hit it repeatedly with a force that made you curl your toes and moan loudly, echoing in his chambers. With his torso touching your back, you could feel the rumbling anger in his chest.
“Does he still occupy your thoughts?” He asked as he gripped your hips harshly and brought them to him as he continued rutting into you.
“No, never, my Lord…please,” you managed to let out amidst your hoarse screaming.
In your ears, he commanded with a low growl, “You will forget him. You will not seek his book. You will not speak his name in my realm. Am I understood, dream of mine?”
There was nothing you could do but nod helplessly as he continued taking you, the bed creaking slightly with his forceful thrusts.
“Do I have your word?”
“Yes, yes, my Lord, yes!”
You came undone at once, screaming in ecstasy, and your King soon follows, spilling his seed inside you far too many times more than you could count that night. As the last of his warmth spread inside your tender, throbbing walls, he declared:
“You belong to me. Your heart, your body, your soul. All of it.”
Thoroughly, utterly spent, you could only sigh in contentment as you passed out, but not before your Lord took you in his arms and made you lay on top of him with your head close to his heart.
***
The realm has once again gone chilly. You weren’t one to complain, so in the guise of normalcy, you had resumed your work in the ocean of dreams and Darius was never brought up again, for fear of incurring your Dream King’s wrath. But still, you were burning with more questions since you began your quest for the truth - you know not whether they’d ever be answered, but you had an eternity at your disposal; surely, one day that book will find its way into your hands when you least expected it. You had to tread carefully.
You were in the palace kitchens making tea. Rubbing your arms to find some warmth, you inched closer to the hearth where the kettle hung and waited for the water to boil. There was no one in there but yourself and the cold, unwelcome air, and you had just spent the entire day since this morning, crafting dreams in the sea - it was a much-awaited, much-needed break, and you desired nothing but a heavy, woollen blanket to curl up in and a book to distract you with until the next rising of the sun. It was all a dream like you could hope for.
You placed your steaming mug on a tray, along with some bread, and went back to the royal library, wondering vaguely what book you’d fancy burying your nose in. Careful not to spill anything, you gingerly made your way to your favourite spot in the entire library: it was hidden among a tall set of shelves, had a little table in the middle where you could set your humble fare down, and surrounded by couches not unlike what you had at home, made of ornate marble and stuffed with soft wool.
Gingerly, you carried your tray through the library, taking a route you normally would, as far from the main entrance as possible and away from the larger hallways where the other dreams would convene, wanting to avoid bothering anyone and drawing attention to yourself. You had already been a topic of conversation among them, being the only one of the Dream Lord’s creations to have become his lover. Already, there were rumours of you being a witch in your past life and bewitching the Endless to ensnare his affections - it was humorous at best to you and the dreams you had gotten close to, but there were other dreams who weren’t fond of you and spread unkind words about your origins. You gave those dreams a wide berth, for confronting them won’t do them any good - the King would find out, and you shuddered to think what he’ll do to them if he so much as got a whiff of the rumours.
Being banished to the darkness came to mind.
You reached a secluded portion of the library not far from your destination. That area normally was empty, so you found it odd that hushed voices were coming from that direction.
“...cease your trysts to the Waking World, little nightmare. You do not belong there.”
“But, I have never gone against your word, my Lord. Not even when you had given me that special project of yours.”
The Dream Lord and the Corinthian.
You hated eavesdropping, so you wanted very much to just walk past and pretend you had not heard, but the mention of your name made you stop dead in your tracks.
“Speaking of her… I hear she has become a dream now…You know, one of us,” you heard the Corinthian remark curiously.
The Dream Lord’s response was brusque. “You have heard correctly.”
“Do you really think it’s wise to keep her here like your pet, with what you did with her husband? Well, ex-husband.”
Following the taunting voice of the nightmare was tension so heavy, no doubt coming from the King himself.
What did he do to Darius?
“All I mean is, what if any of the nightmares that plagued him come babbling to her? She is friendly with them, after all. Imagine if she finds out what you did..the nightmares you gave him…”
The Corinthian must be bluffing. He must be. He must’ve been caught sneaking to the Waking World and was being reprimanded for it by his creator, and he just might be lashing out. There was no way Dream of the Endless, your saviour, the one you willingly gave your heart to, could’ve orchestrated your husband’s downfall and the death of your only son.
“I simply did what must be done.”
The tray you were holding fell to the carpeted floor with a muffled crash, its scalding contents spilling on your feet.
The sting of the piping-hot liquid didn’t register. Instead, a different kind of pain manifested itself: one that was unbearable, bloody and fatal, right over the heart. And it was your Dream Lord’s nightmares that brought it about at his behest. Your hand clutching your chest, you hunched over at the sight of Cauis’s mangled body in your head - he had ordered that too, the death of an innocent child. It was guilt at the murder of his own family, you realised, that made Darius take his own life.
So many deaths…and it was all in the hands of the Endless that now faced you with slightly widened eyes, concerned about you at the state he had found you in.
“My dream, how long have you been here?”
Was that a hint of fear he had in his eyes? Good.
“That was you…” you managed to say. “You poisoned his mind, turned him into a murderer…”
The King of Dreams put on a blank mask and cautiously approached you.
“Stay away from me…” you whispered as you slowly backed away.
His footsteps came to a halt, and he said carefully, “My nightmares merely inspired the thought in his head. The rest was Darius’s doing.”
But at that point, any explanation he had was unacceptable.
“You had my son and I killed…you had planned this all along, just so you could have your way.”
The Corinthian appeared behind him with a tiny, satisfied smirk. If he had been the one to torture Darius, it didn’t matter: he helped uncover the truth, which you had been blind to, and which the King of Nightmares would’ve continued shielding you from.
“You were wasting your life away with that mortal. I only meant to give you a better life with me. Far more than Darius can offer.”
“Don’t you dare say his name!” you screamed, grabbing the nearest book and throwing it in his direction. “You don’t deserve to say his name. Darius was a good man, he loved me with all his heart. And you reduced his memory to that of a mere criminal…”
Your eyes were burning with tears, but you ignored them, you refused to wipe them away. “You took my family away from me.”
“He did not deserve you.”
Staring straight into the Dream Lord’s blue eyes, swimming with tears that have yet to flow - was that regret you saw? It didn’t matter. He selfishly tore you from a life you could’ve had with the two people you loved most in the world. His regret could never bring them back.
“And you think you do? After taking my family and my life away from me?”
“What I did, I did because I love you.”
There was so much emotion in his face and his voice - maybe it was his way of apologising, but there can never be forgiveness in your heart for what he did.
“You call that love, Lord Morpheus? I want none of it, then.”
Turning on your feet, you ran - away from his presence, away from the library, far away from the realm you dared call your ‘home.’ It was never a home, after all, but a prison.
***
Present Day
You run from the dungeon, having memorised the map of the Abyss by heart.
Was it you who wrote it? The Mera before you? Had she suffered greatly, too, in the Dream Lord’s hands?
The contents of the paper were nothing but deplorable. The Dream Lord had taken away everything from you more than a thousand years ago like he had done at the present - how many of you endured such a fate, you wondered. How many of you found out and tried to put a stop to it?
You finally reach the shores of the island he had trapped you in. Disgusted from what you had just read, you dry-heave on the sand. The effort just leaves you tired and feeling even sicker in your stomach. You find yourself exhausted, having felt more than a thousand years' worth of torture courtesy of the Endless that had claimed it was all for love.
“You knew,” you say out loud, addressing the Voice in your head.
I’m tired, is all that it replies. And you can end it.
Lady Delirium once left a boat she used on the way to this island, you remember her saying so the first time you met inside the abandoned castle. You spot it, hidden among the trees. Scrambling on your feet, you drag it to the waters and start rowing. You have a long way ahead of you, but your goal was clear.
You had to die again. If you did, Lady Death would come for you and claim your soul, and you can be free.
End it, and we can be free, the Voice says in a weakened whisper.
Your reply is nothing but hopeful. “It won’t be long now.”
***
More than a thousand years ago
“Thought I’d find you here.”
You whipped your head in alarm to the direction of the voice, only to find the Corinthian, grinning from behind you with his hands on his hips.
You couldn’t say anything, or even get up to greet him. You simply stared, refusing to get up from your curled-up position on the floor of the dream you had chosen to lurk in.
It was the dream of the blacksmith you had met him in. In the absence of the Corinthian, the dream felt lighter and warmer - the blacksmith, and the younger, dream-version of his son were engaged in a friendly latrunculi game in the dream-garden, with the son currently winning, much to his delight and his father’s mock-annoyance. He was secretly letting his son win, though.
“Ah, that could’ve been them, couldn’t it?” the Corinthian strode beside you and offered his hand to help you stand.
“Do you want to go back?”
You stared at him blankly, but you knew his meaning.
“Home? I would like that.”
“Where, exactly? I am quite sure your family would not take it lightly that their daughter had come back from the dead as a dream.”
You chuckled lightly at his comment, imagining your uncle’s face growing pale at the mere sight of you, whole and unharmed. No, you couldn’t exactly go home to them. They were your past life, now, and they could never be with you in your next.
“Would you take me to the Temple of Bacchus? Please?”
The temple was in Lebanon. Not many knew of its existence now, so you were thankful that it was empty just as you both landed on the stone path that led to its main entrance.
“What are you going to do now, doll? Will we meet again?”
Flashing a grateful smile at him, you replied, “Not if my plan succeeds.”
The grin he showed you was one of pride.
“Good. Give him hell.”
With a final wave, he vanished, leaving you alone to face the temple ruins by yourself.
Taking a deep sigh, you entered the temple with your head bowed out of respect for your family’s patron god. You ascended the stairs leading to the temple’s altar hoping against hope that he would be merciful.
Kneeling before the altar, you pleaded your case to the god of your ancestors.
“Hear me, I beg you, o mighty Bacchus. Have mercy on this poor soul. Destroy this form that I may meet with Death.”
But, in response, you heard nothing but your own voice echoing through the halls.
If he doesn’t help, you were bound in the Dreaming with him, the monstrous being that trapped you, and who will put you in a cage for eternity.
“Please, o glorious liberator, in the name of the bond you once had with my family, please, hear my call!” you cried out in utter despair. “Take his gift away from me and set me free.”
You sobbed piteously on the floor, waiting patiently for a sign that the god had taken mercy on you. Behind you, you heard a set of footsteps approach the altar - perhaps another worshipper, whom you paid no mind to. If you had to prostrate yourself in the temple for weeks on end, you would do so.
You felt a warm hand settle on your shoulder. Startled, you got up abruptly, fearing the worst: had the Endless come to spirit you away for good?
“Why do you keen so wretchedly, creature of the Dreaming?”
You meet the kind eyes of a woman wearing simple white garb with a belt tied around her waist. She tucked her greying hair behind her ears and offered a hand to you, but you only stared warily. She smiled sympathetically, never withdrawing her hand.
“Our merciful Dionysus has heard your cries, Mera of the Dreaming. He knows your family has done him great service, and he will grant you what you seek.”
From among the pillars, more women emerged, clad in the same robes as her, with their hands clasped before them, seemingly awaiting your response. One of them held a thyrsus with both hands and bore the same, kind eyes.
Maenads.
The woman whose hand still held out to you, spoke once more, “Do you not wish to be free of your bond with the Oneiromancer? The Endless, whose machinations led to your great loss and suffering?”
The one who bore the thyrsus approached you and said, “We have come to help. Let us consume your form that your soul may ascend to Death of the Endless - she will guide you through the sunless lands and take you to your husband and child.”
Still cowering on the floor, you weighed your options: could they be trusted? Could you place your demise in their hands and, more importantly, will they keep their word and ensure that your soul would be claimed by Death herself?
Your lips quivered as you asked, “What of Orpheus? You handed him over to Dream.”
“He wasn’t of Death’s to claim, dear dream.”
One by one, the maenads surrounded you in an enclosing circle, donning a woeful expression, as the woman who held the thyrsus handed the staff to the one whose hand was still outstretched. You decided to take it and trust the god that you had prayed to.
“What is your name, priestess of the temple?” you asked in a hushed tone.
The owner of the warm hand that held yours shook her head gently, and responded, “Our names do not matter.”
She led you to the centre of the temple, where the others followed, still surrounding you in a circle. Two more women carrying jars of wine came out of the pillars, while four more came bearing golden goblets neatly lined on a tray, wearing heavy robes made of fawn fur.
“Fear not, Mera of the Dreaming - the great Dionysus will set you free.”
***
Present Day
You don’t know how long you rowed to the desolate island, nor how far you’ve trekked through the rocky mountains. The map in your head, drawn presumably by the Mera before you, had led you to the entrance of a dark cave. You stand at the entrance, knowing you’re about to walk into your destruction.
End us, says the Voice in your head, over and over.
Determined to take the final stand, you enter the cave at your full height, never flinching from the emptiness, the black hole, the void that greets you at the far end.
The Abyss.
Mera, consort to Dream of the Endless – I have been expecting you.
The voice of the Abyss rumbles in the cave, yet never echoes - it surrounds your entire form, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Inwardly, you shivered, not out of fear, but anticipation.
End us.
“Greetings, Abyss,” you dip your head slightly at the Great Void. “It seems that you know why I seek you.”
Yes. There is a void within you, and I am famished.
“Will you grant me my wish, then? Will you end my existence so Death can finally take me?”
Please. Please end us.
I have no quarrel with Dream of the Endless, it replies. Nor do I answer him. I must ask you to leave this place and return to your master.
Vehemently, you shake your head and close your eyes. The tears sting as you reason, “My master has doomed me to suffer. Shall I still run to his arms and to my inevitable ruin?”
Perhaps it is his will. Are you not of his creation? Is it not your purpose to submit to his will? His word, then, should be your sacred law.
Goaded by its condescending words, you whisper, “Is that how Destruction treated you?”
Your fate and mine are not the same.
“I suppose not. He loved you like a son,” you say, your arm raising to touch the darkness it possesses, only for it to pulse in annoyance at the mention of his creator. “It pained him to leave you in the hands of his sibling.”
But he left, nonetheless, comes its bitter response. We are creatures of the Endless. We are nothing more than instruments to them, and they play us however they please, like marionettes being pulled by the strings. You should know better than to wish to abandon your function.
“Don’t you dare talk to me about function!” you spit out. Anger starts welling in your heart at the painful reminder - you had given it all, trying to please him with the dreams you crafted. “I devoted my life to the purpose he gave me over a thousand years ago. He used my soul and kept it selfishly to himself. No more.”
End us.
What of the life you bear in your womb?
Your hand automatically hovers over your stomach, as if protecting it. It was conceived unwillingly, but it was loved, all the same, yet…
“I cannot bring him to this world and have a monster for a father. I will not let my own blood live in a lie he is sure to spin.
“Please. Please,” unable to hold your emotion any longer, you kneel on the ground before the creature of Destruction, hoping, praying with all your might, that he takes pity on you and lets you walk into it. Its darkness was better, infinitely so, than the love that Dream of the Endless has forced upon you.
“Please end me.”
***
Over a thousand years ago
The priestess handed you a golden goblet filled to the brim with wine from the jugs the others carried. She watched with crazed eyes as you emptied it and begged for one fill after another. The others followed - together, you drank your fill in the name of Bacchus, while they drew closer to your intoxicated form, locked in a dancing frenzy.
The priestess joined the dance, keeping you at the centre of their manic writhing. In your own state of euphoria, you swayed and galloped and waved your arms along with them. They tore off their robes, and then your own, and the priestess descended upon you, her lips encasing yours, kissing and biting and consuming.
As you moaned in ecstasy in her mouth, hands made their way all over your body, caressing, clawing, their nails digging into your flesh.
You knew nothing but pleasure when they tore the skin from your flesh and the flesh from your bones. There was no pain, even as their teeth gnawed on your skull and their hands dug into your chest and pulled out your heart.
There was no pain - only pure bliss.
Then there was nothing.
***
Present Day
Before your trembling form, begging for salvation, the Abyss hums as if contemplating your plea.
Come to me then, that I may consume that void in your heart.
Your vision, while still bleary from your tears, regards the destructive being with confusion. Did you hear it right? Will he allow you passage and end your existence?
With hope blooming in your soul for the first time in more than a thousand years, you let out a laugh of disbelief. It will be over soon.
Death will come and claim you, at last.
“Will you grant me my final wish? Please?”
The Abyss gives no word, but you know it heard you, for in the cave, a deathly silence ensues, encouraging you to speak.
“I wish for you to hand my soul over to Death of the Endless.”
You hear nothing but a faint humming from the Void before you, which seems to grow in size. You could feel its hunger overtake its reason, but that, to you, is of no consequence - nor is the cold that follows as its dark tendrils wrap around your form. Its cold, biting hands comfort you, as your thoughts drift to soft, warm, loving forest-green eyes for the last time before you’re overcome with nothingness.
***
Not for the first time, Dream of the Endless feels his entire world collapse and his heart break at the loss of your light, his eyes closing in agony as your life force grows dormant in his realm.
As you had done over a thousand years ago, you had chosen the only path to get away from him.
You had chosen death.
He has endured this countless times - no matter how perfect he creates you, the truth always worms its way to you and poisons your heart against him - even with practice, it does not make it any easier for him to accept his loss of you.
If anything, it fills him every time with almost unbearable grief and just a little bit of resentment:
His love had not been enough for you to make you stay and choose him.
He remembers how he had fetched your soul from the maenads. Perhaps you had chosen this death to spite him, for it was the same fate that Orpheus had met. He had hurt you then, he was aware. He had to take you away from your mortal husband then, it was necessary, but he had not intended for the loss of your son as well. It was a consequence of his actions that he regrets to this day.
Many times, he had lost you, but never with a child growing in your womb.
In the tallest tower of the abandoned castle he has made for you as a home centuries ago, he mourns. He lets his tears spill on the sheets you had laid formerly.
You had gotten away from him again.
But then again, he had overpowered the maenads to claim your soul. He had contemplated punishing Dionysus for what was essentially an act of war against him and his realm (he had dared interfere with matters that did not concern him), but he remembers that he refused to take action in his sorrow and had withdrawn entirely to the black shores, creating a dream that would house your soul while allowing his realm to fall into ruin. The Dreaming stormed of fire and ice that day he lost you, and he let it storm now, but nowhere near the strength his realm had endured in the months that followed your demise in the hands of the maenads.
Much like your older forms, you had chosen the Abyss to be your final fate. No longer will he allow his grief to consume him: he would simply take your soul back and recreate you, and you will be with him again.
Time is of the essence, he muses, so with his sand, he makes his way to the cave that the Great Void had called its home. His sister may have already felt the flicker of your soul, and she would take you from him if she finds you before he does.
His sister had confronted him about you on the day of your coronation. She had all but stormed to his throne room, demanding a private audience.
She had gone straight to the point the moment they reached his library office.
“Brother, we need to talk,” she had firmly stated.
“About what, my dear sister?”
“Cut the bullshit, Dream,” she said with her arms crossed and her expression fuming. “I believe you know what I came here for.”
“Oh?” he had reacted nonchalantly. His older sister, wiser and more powerful as she was, she held no word in his realm, that much he knew.
“You know what you’ve done, Dream. I can’t, in good judgement, let you continue tormenting her.”
He ignored his sister’s increasingly ireful tone in favour of a mildly interesting book he picked up from one of his shelves.
“Her soul is mine to do as I please. It has been since she pledged it to me, and so it will be until my say-so. It was mine to claim even before you permitted me to fetch it from the Bassarids that consumed her.”
Death could do nothing but release a sigh at her brother’s obstinance. “I let you retrieve it because I knew you were mourning, brother. But you can’t just do as you please with it.”
He felt his own anger rise at his sister’s insinuation: would she really dare renege on her promise of never taking your soul for the sake of his happiness?
“And yet, I believe we had an understanding that you are not to touch it,” he remembered responding with as much venom as he could muster before you had interrupted. Only the Fates know what would’ve ensued if you hadn’t.
He will not let his sister touch a single hair of you, not when he's King of the Dreaming.
Reaching his target in the cave, he makes his presence known to the creature of Destruction.
Dream of the Endless, it greets.
“I take it you’ve been expecting me, Abyss. Then, you know why I came.”
Indeed. I remember every being I’ve consumed. She carried far greater pain than her older forms that have crossed my path. You are aware of what that does to a soul.
The Abyss lets a cold wave of silence pass in his cave, perhaps to get his point across. Dream, however, is not having any of it.
“I should have had you banished for consuming her many times, but I have been tolerant. You will hand it over,” he commands through his gritted teeth. He had had enough of his subjects disobeying his words today.
Her last wish was for Death of the Endless to claim her soul.
“Matters of the Dreaming stay in the Dreaming,” he says with vehemence. Slowly, he could feel himself transform into the shape of an eldritch being feared even by the gods themselves. “You are aware of that, Abyss. Give me her soul.”
In a defiant response, tendrils of darkness shoot from within the cave. “I do not answer to you, Dream of the Endless.”
“Shall I call for Destruction, then?” the King of Nightmares lets his own voice bounce against the walls of the cave as his sand threateningly hovers around him. “Perhaps I could implore him on your behalf? I think not.
“Have I not so graciously offered you shelter when your creator abandoned you? Have I not provided you with a sanctuary and allowed you to fulfil your function, when all of my other siblings have abandoned you, including your creator, himself?”
Baulking at the King of Nightmares’ endlessly terrifying form, the Abyss changes its tone.
You have. But, her poor soul –
“Belongs to me, as it always has been.”
The tendrils of darkness rescind, along with the palpable tension it brought inside the cave. Finally, it relents.
Then take it as you wish.
Dream, feeling his original form return, reaches inside the darkness with an outstretched hand - he let your light guide his hands, eventually withdrawing it with prized possession in his grasp:
Your soul, formless, blindingly white and pure. The light you give flickers momentarily before his eyes before dimming.
“You have done me great service, Abyss,” he declares with a tilt of his head in his thanks. “I shall move your island closer to the heart of the Dreaming: a place where you can tempt more wayward dreamers and consume their being to your desire. I can even lead some your way if you would have it.”
You are merciful and generous, Dream of the Endless. But, what of the rest her soul longingly craves?
With a final glare that sends the Great Void cowering far into the depths of the cave, he simply replies, “That is no longer of your concern.”
Turning on his heel, Dream closes his fist on the formless light that is your soul and kisses his closed fist. He shall never again allow your life force to go to waste. He lets a ghost of a grin mar his features as he feels a rip in his dimension:
“My dear sister. How good of you to join me.”
He stares at the all-black-clad form of Death of the Endless. His sister, it seems, does not share his triumph.
“You know what I came here for, little brother.” She approaches cautiously, as if afraid that he would lash out. But why would he, if she does not give him a reason to?
“And you know that you will have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.”
“Dream, enough.” Her hand is firm when she places it on her brother’s shoulder. “She has suffered too much, I regret to say it, in your hands.”
Her eyes, ever-so-full of empathy and warmth, stare into his cold, dark ones, pleading, reasoning with him: Let her go.
“I could hear her soul calling out the moment I came to visit. Del kept hearing it, too. If you really loved her, you’d free her.”
But what does she know of love, when she has not felt it this strongly, this passionately? His only reply is short and piercing.
“And if you were my family, sister, you would not take her away from me.”
“Dream, you forget yourself. She is dead. She died more than a thousand years ago. You know what needs to happen.”
As if to drive her point, her hand moves to touch the one that held your soul close in a vice-like grip. Dream recoils from the touch and lightly shoves her hand away.
“That may be true, my sister, but you forget yourself, as well,” he hisses. “She is my creation, and of my kingdom, as she has been the moment she accepted my offer to make the Dreaming her home. And we both know better than to interfere with the affairs of each other’s realms.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh - she knows very well there was no point reasoning with him, but she has to try. After all, she has a good reason, and it was for your sake.
“Is that her soul?” she asks with a fond smile as she gazes into the dimming light filtering through his fist. “Look at it, little brother…tell me you don’t see the light in her soul flickering. A human soul can only endure so much. The strain of being made and unmade over and over…If I let this go on, she will have nothing left in her…She will continue to exist, yes, but the dream you will make out of her will soon be nothing but an empty shell.”
Death takes his other, empty hand in hers, hoping her warmth would seep into his cold interior and relent.
“Let me take her before it’s too late.”
Dream finds himself unable to speak, finally acknowledging the damage he’s done to your soul. It lays still in his closed fist, but he could tell - all the pain you bear had taken a toll on your soul; it still burns brightly, yet he is aware it wouldn’t be long before…
He swallows a lump in his throat, steeling his resolve. It will never come to that, he will not allow it.
“I can make this right, my sister. I am aware now of the pain I have caused her. When I make her again, I will give her free will to choose, this time, and should she decide to be with me, she will know nothing but love in my embrace. Grant me this, and leave her to me.”
Could his sister not see how he would wither away without you? How his Endless essence would fade if he so much as lived a day without you by his side?
“Please.”
His chosen words seem to produce the desired effect, for his sister purses her lips and furrows her brows in a pained expression.
“And if her soul fades, what, then?”
“It will not come to that,” he promises. “I swear upon my helm and sand.”
Death offers no reply. Instead, she lets out a small groan of frustration as she rubs her face with her palms.
“Would you leave her to me, my dear sister, that I may be eternally happy?”
******************************
Link to the next and final chapter
Author notes on the Chapter:
I am so very sorry this chapter was delayed for a week. I took a work-related trip and got so busy I couldn’t even sleep properly huhuu T_T
Thank you for reading, as always, and for your endless patience! Chapter 21, the epilogue, will be out tomorrow, cross my fingers!!
As to how many times he has recreated her, I’ll leave that up to your imagination :P
Also, I beg you to please bear with me, as there is more to this!!
Author's notes in general:
Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!
Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!
Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)
Post date: 3/14/23
Edit date: 3/14/23
Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!
Tagging the following:
@wt-fxck
@sandman-33
@reallystressedhoneybee
@akiraquote
@safe-teycar
@ponyboys-sunsets
@izzicle
@spygrrl99
@intothesoul
@thecrazytealady
@tastyinspection8860
@kittenssss-blog
@trinittyy
@mxacegrey
@saraicus
@blu3what
@justporple
@emy635
@chantzmar
@dawnissunnysideup
@esmeralda-tupi
@ggxsan
#dark!morpheus fic#dark!morpheus#dark!morpheus x you#dark morpheus#dark morpheus x you#dark!morpheus x reader#dark!dream#dark!dream x you#dark!dream x reader#dark!dream of the endless#dark!dream of the endless x you#morpheus x reader#lord morpheus x reader#lord morpheus x you#dream x reader#dream x you#morpheus goes batshit crazy#king of dreams#ruler of the nightmare realm#dark!morpheus fanfic#the sandman fic#the sandman fanfic#the sandman fanfiction#18+only#tom sturridge character#the sandman#the dream that got away
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Do you think it’s possible for the realm of the elderlings to be adapted for a tv show or movie ( I think between the two it could most likely be a tv if it ever were to be) idk with all these book adaptations being announced we probably aren’t too far away. Who would your preferred cast be for an adaptation? Would you like HBO, Netflix, Amazon or Apple to produce it or anyone else ?
I love you anon whoever you are because this is a topic I have many takes on!
So first off, I have mixed feelings about how RotE would work in live action.
Pros:
-We could get out of Fitz’s POV a bit and get more of what other characters are up to. This would give us a way better perspective on the political situation in the 6D, the Red Ship Wars/persecution of the Old Blood/tensions between Regal and Verity/various other plotlines that could be really compelling if we get more characters perspective. We could see different sides to the characters too. Like it would be so interesting to see Regal when he’s around useful people keeping the mask intact, or how the Fool and Shrewd interact with each other, or more about Chade and Kettricken struggling over who is really in charge of Dutifuls regency.
-The characters are all so human and complex they would be juicy opportunity for actors. Imagine someone getting the chance to play Burrich and dial up the queer subtext with his “our Wit is shameful and you need to crush it like I did” to 100, or getting to see Patience lament how Fitz pushes her away despite her best efforts to be a mother to him. We could have some truly amazing early season GoT level scenes of actors crushing it in scenes where they do nothing but talk to someone. It could pick up the mantle of intelligent fantasy for adults that was so badly dropped by GoT in later seasons.
-The Fool would be SUPER well received by 2023 audiences I think. Queer, non-binary (that would almost certainly be more explicitly stated in any modern adaptation,) a snarker on the powerful and friend of the downtrodden and crusader for a better world. I also think Fitzloved would be played up a lot.
Cons:
-Losing Fitz’s POV. This is a double edged sword. If we can’t hear his thoughts, he comes off as way less sympathetic. Things like the quarrel or the Nettle situation or his neglect of Bee would make him seem like such a dick if we aren’t hearing his thoughts and realizing how fucked up he is. The series is heavily reliant on internal narration.
-The Wit and the Skill would be really hard to portray in a visual way. They are both basically telepathy, with the Skill eventually expanding to healing as the plot requires it. The magic in general isn’t super suited to a visual format outside of the Elderlings.
-Weaving in the events of Liveship Traders and RWC would be difficult, but the story would need to basically be rewritten entirely to not include them. They run into timeline that prevent them from all being blended together like Netflix does with the Shadow and Bone show; like Amber is mutually exclusive to the Fool/Lord Golden and Kelsingra can’t happen until after everything goes down in Bingtown.
Who would I like to make it?
HBO for sure; they have a proven track record of being able to do prestigious fantasy in a way other streamers don’t. Netflix would absolutely murder it (the only reason Sandman was good was because Neil Gaiman was extremely involved.)
Dream casting?
I would prefer unknowns and stage actors for the most part. Makes it easier to see them as the characters. That said, I have a perfect Fitz and the Fool: D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai and Hunter Schaefer
#realm of the elderlings#rote#fitzchivalry farseer#the fool#so basically it could be good#but it would be tricky
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Unveiling the Magic of Influencer Marketing: The Good, the Bad, and the Funny!
Hey there, marketing wizards! Wanna dive into the mesmerizing realm of influencer marketing? Brace yourselves for a wild ride as we unravel the 15 pros and cons of teaming up with these social media rockstars. Think of influencers as modern-day trendsetters who can help your brand skyrocket. So, get ready to unravel the truth about influencer marketing, with a sprinkle of humor and a dash of creativity!
The Pros:
Expand Your Kingdom: Collaborating with influencers is like summoning an army of loyal followers, spreading the word about your brand far and wide.
Authentic Vibes: Influencers have that special "keeping it real" mojo, bringing an authentic touch to your brand and making followers trust you like a friendly neighborhood unicorn.
Trusty Wizards: When influencers wave their magical wand of endorsement, their followers eagerly listen, enchanted by their recommendations and spells.
Bullseye Targeting: By picking the right influencers, you can shoot your message straight into the hearts of your desired audience, hitting the target like a champion archer.
Engagement Enchantment: Influencers are masters of crafting captivating content that ignites sparks of engagement, making their followers swoon over your brand's charm.
Creative Potions: Partnering with influencers brews up a concoction of fresh and creative ideas, transforming your marketing efforts into a magical feast for the eyes.
Thrifty Magic: Working with micro-influencers, those petite powerhouses, can be an enchanting option for businesses with a modest budget, adding some financial magic to your marketing spells.
Social Media Sorcery: Influencer collaborations unleash a whirlwind of social media presence, casting a spell of brand awareness and follower growth across platforms.
Niche Sorcerers: Influencers specialize in their magical niches, giving you access to a tribe of passionate followers who are spellbound by your industry or products.
Everlasting Alliances: Building long-term relationships with influencers can result in never-ending collaborations, weaving a tale of consistent brand exposure throughout your magical journey.
The Cons:
Wizard Wallets: Collaborating with top-tier influencers can put a dent in your treasure chest, making it trickier for small businesses with limited coinage.
Authenticity Spells: Some influencers work their magic for multiple brands, leaving followers wondering if they're playing for the Gryffindor team or the Slytherins, which can muddy your brand's messaging.
Finding the Perfect Match: Uncovering influencers who match your brand values and target audience requires digging deep into the enchanted forests of research and careful selection.
Reputation Potions: If an influencer goes down a dark path, engaging in mischievous or wicked behavior, it can cast a shadow on your brand's reputation, creating some unwanted dark magic.
Engagement Quicksands: Influencers may have armies of followers, but not all troops are created equal. Some might be as quiet as a whisper in a haunted castle. So, before teaming up, make sure their spells captivate and engage their audience.
Control Enchantments: When partnering with influencers, you might not have complete control over their magical creations, which can lead to unexpected spells and quirky brand messaging.
Noisy Spellcasting: The influencer world is a buzzing cauldron of spells and enchantments. Standing out amidst the magical noise requires a sprinkle of creativity and a unique brand voice.
Ephemeral Magic: The impact of influencer campaigns can be as fleeting as a pixie's wings, with engagement and interest vanishing once the collaboration ends.
Illusionary Followers: Beware of influencers who conjure up fake followers and engagement like a trickster magician. Make sure their spells are authentic and their followers are real.
Measuring Sorcery: Unraveling the precise ROI of influencer marketing can be as mysterious as a disappearing potion. Measuring the true impact requires combining data and a sprinkle of magical intuition.
Conclusion: Influencer marketing is like a spellbinding journey with its share of enchantments and caveats. By wielding your wand of research, choosing the right influencers, and keeping an eye on the magical metrics, you can harness the power of these social media sorcerers to elevate your brand's magical adventures. So, conjure your strategy wisely, and may your influencer collaborations cast a spell of success in your marketing realm!
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When Last legacy and fictif was at it's peak in the beginning...I made a fanmade song. Was curious what the song would be to introduce the Last Legacy 2.0, if Mike Morgan (disgusting idiot he is shown to be), when releasing the game at comic con to hype fans up.
Last Legacy Theme Song
[Intro]
Downloading…….
1 …. 2
3 ….. 4 …… 5
6…..
……..7…….
8 ……… 9 ……… 10!
Download Complete.
Begin Game.
[Verse1]
For so long, the hazy days went by before my curious eyes. I was foretold of the legends that flew so high in the hue sky. Till the day, I was summoned upon an illuminated realm of mystical journeys. A trail of secrets is laid out as the routes' goes on with a hint of doubt.
[Pre-Chorus 1]
Breathless for a moment, purely grateful for a new reality. Just a chance to cosplay as the soldier for a brand new day. Heartbreak is a risk but my possibilities are endless.
[Chorus 1]
Not a moment to, late the Starsworn sealed their own fate. Destiny had ventured through a portal to announce their mortal doom. Heart and soul, the consequences will grow, but my love for you is pure than you'll ever get to know.
[Bridge 1]
Aahhhha.. Aahhhhh…. Aaaahhhhhh!
[Verse 2]
Beware the shadows roaming all around.
Magic starts to play a role in a magical tale foretold in ways to warn lost souls. Last legacy prospers every second of the day to fulfill a promise guaranteed.
[Pre-Chorus 2]
Ventured forth to achieve the true ending which feels like an eternity. On the edge of the horizon surrounding a mystical foreign land. Illpheta roamed along with humans to create a peaceful world to live upon. One foolish man corrupted, roaming over every lifeless man, who blindly kneels before his tainted throne.
[Chorus 2]
Not a moment to, late the Starsworn sealed their own fate. Destiny had ventured through a portal to announce their mortal doom. Heart and soul, the consequences will grow, but my love for you is pure than you'll ever get to know.
[Bridge 2]
Aahhhha.. Aahhhhh…. Aaaahhhhhh!
[Verse/ Bridge 3]
For years, the Starsworn vowed to fight to save their one and only home they've ever known. A mercenary escaped without a trace, masking the misery he formerly faced against, only to find a faithful calling. Wielding a blade the loyal knight captures those against the law, reclaiming herself from her tainted blood, in her eyes her moral code is never wrong. Merely, grieving his first love reaped by death's familiar hands, the necromancer aspired to use his magic to unearth his family's validity, in the depths of a hollow hell he will surely rule with a single goodbye spell.
[Chorus 3]
Not a moment to, late the Starsworn sealed their own fate. Destiny had ventured through a portal to announce their mortal doom. Heart and soul, the consequences will grow, but my love for you is pure than you'll ever get to know.
[Bridge 4]
Aahhhha.. Aahhhhh…. Aaaahhhhhh!
[Outro]
Salute the soldiers, bid them all well, for your story leads to a list of credits. In hopes of beholding the stars once again, be sure to restart from the beginning, careful of the choices you make in the next subsequence. For neither fates, nor the stars, can keep you far from the final sincere end.
Wouldn't be against it, if anyone wanted to sing this?!
P.s.: Still waiting for Dorian to do anything or something with Fictif.
I hope you enjoy!
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Unlocking the Potential of SR920SW Batteries: Features, Uses, and Comparisons
Have you ever peered into the back of your watch, only to find a tiny disc labeled SR920SW staring back at you? It's like discovering a hidden treasure in an unexpected place. This little powerhouse, often unnoticed until it needs replacing, is a key player in keeping our small gadgets running smoothly. But what exactly makes the SR920SW so special, and how does it compare to its equivalents? Let's dive into the world of SR920SW equivalent batteries, exploring their features, uses, and how they stand up against their counterparts.
SR920SW Batteries
Imagine a world where your favorite watch never misses a beat, and your calculator is always ready for the next equation. This is the world the SR920SW battery powers - a realm of reliability and precision.
Understanding Battery Codes: The Language of Batteries
Battery codes are like DNA for gadgets; they tell you everything you need to know about what powers your device. Deciphering these codes can unlock a deeper understanding of your electronic companions.
Key Features of SR920SW Batteries
With their compact size and long life, SR920SW batteries are like the marathon runners of the battery world; they keep going and going, ensuring your devices are always ready for action.
Common Uses for SR920SW Batteries
From wristwatches to calculators and digital thermometers, SR920SW batteries breathe life into a plethora of gadgets. They're the unsung heroes keeping our small electronics ticking, calculating, and measuring.
Exploring SR920SW Equivalent Batteries
In the vast ocean of batteries, there are several fish that swim like the SR920SW. Identifying these equivalents can be a lifesaver when the original is out of reach.
SR920SW vs. Its Equivalents: A Comparative Analysis
Comparing the SR920SW to its equivalents is like lining up athletes from different disciplines. Each has its strengths, tailored to specific needs and devices.
The Importance of Voltage and Capacity
Voltage and capacity in batteries are akin to horsepower and fuel efficiency in cars. They determine how much kick your device gets and for how long.
Pros and Cons of SR920SW and Its Alternatives
Every battery has its stage where it shines brightest, and its shadows. Weighing the pros and cons helps in making an informed choice that suits your needs best.
How to Properly Replace and Install SR920SW Batteries
Replacing a battery should be as seamless as changing a light bulb. A few simple steps can ensure your gadgets are quickly back in business.
Maximizing Battery Life: Tips and Tricks
Imagine squeezing every last drop of juice from your battery. With proper care and a few tricks, extending the life of your SR920SW battery is within reach.
Safety Considerations When Handling Batteries
Handling batteries with care is paramount, much like handling precious gems. A little caution goes a long way in preventing mishaps.
Where to Buy SR920SW and Its Equivalent Batteries
In the quest for SR920SW batteries and their equivalents, knowing where to look is half the battle. From online retailers to local stores, options abound.
The Future of Small Batteries: Trends and Innovations
As technology races forward, small batteries aren't left behind. Innovations promise to make them even more powerful, long-lasting, and environmentally friendly.
FAQs About SR920SW Batteries
Got questions? You're not alone. Addressing common queries can help demystify the world of SR920SW batteries and their equivalents.
Conclusion: The Unsung Hero of Small Electronics
The SR920SW battery, and its equivalents, may be small in size, but they're giants in performance, powering the gadgets that make daily life easier and more efficient. By understanding their features, uses, and how to choose the right replacement, you can ensure your devices continue to serve you well, without missing a beat. Whether you're timing your morning jog, calculating expenses, or taking your temperature, these batteries are the silent partners in your routine, making every second count
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OK HOES IM BACK AT IT AGAIN
i am triweilding hyperfixations rn (dnd, bg3 + hwfwm) so i decided that it would be fun to smoosh them all together into a fucking mess so i proudly present: a shitty jason asano char sheet for dnd (w a ver for bg3 bc the subclass isnt in bg3 (might need to change spells idk havent checked))
(also this is just for mechanics i would reccomed speaking to ur dm if u wanna add flavour items also idk how the equipment would go w bg3 so)
this is not in the same order he gets his powers (aka he takes the mage hand cantrip even tho the powers it emulates (shadow hands and physical soul) dont come till book 4 and also he gets revival ish powers at level 6
just ignore it dnd has diff balance to hwfwm its no biggie
heres how you make it!
first step: we r gonna take the high elf for the powers BUT we r gonna reflavour it so he looks human
for the cantrip w r gonna take message to emulate his vc power
then we take a background: urchin! (but change 👏 the 👏 flavour 👏)
this is mainly for the proficiencies and also the mouse which we r gonna reflavour as a colin leech (ask ur dm)
u can drop all the other flavour items or ask if u can change em since yk the lore dont add up if ur playing jason fr
now time for ability scores since here u go:
str: 8 (-1)
dex: 13+2 = 15 (+2)
con: 14 (+2)
int: 10+1 = 11 (0)
wis: 12 (+1)
cha: 15 (+2)
step four is to choose a class so im going with warlock since 1: i like it 2: its a spellsword form level 1 just like jason 4: the flavour is nice
ok time for the good stuff:
start by grabing arcana and deception as ur class skills (replace one w stealth and maybe sleight of hand too if u didnt take urchin)
equipment: any simple weapon, an arcane focus, a scholar's pack, Leather armor, any simple weapon, and two daggers
(u can take whatever simple weapon u want or maybe even ask ur dm for a sword (short or long bc u get those proficiencies from high elf)
next we wanna take the undying subclass for all its nifty death defying undead fucking powers
(if ur playing bg3 or ur dm wont let you use SCAG content then take the great old one)
now for the spells and cantrips:
cantrips at first level we r gonna grab will be mage hand and poison spray (on top of message (high elf) and spare the dying (undying))
spells will be hex and comprehend languages
at second level we grab the armour of shadows and eyes of the rune keeper eldritch invocations, grab arms of hadar, and dump comprehend languages for cause fear
third level is time for the pact boon! take pact of the blade (though if u really want a familiar take pact of the chain instead) (some ei's we take have potb as a prequisite so then just pyf) and also misty step
level four we r gonna take the skulker feat (or +2 cha if u arent using optional feats) as well as finally picking up eldritch blast (it doesnt suit the flavour ik it makes him worse but it also makes him quirkyer) and also grabbing ray of enfeeblement
level 5 we grab ray of sickness (undying expanded spell list) or if not then remove curses and also the one with shadows invocation
level 6 we grab vampiric touch
level 7 you wanna take blight and grab the thrsting bade invocation (pyf if u didnt take potb)
level 8 we r grabbing +2 charisma and also dimension door
level 9 its contagion (hold monster for u tgoo guys) and also theif of five fates invocation
level 10 blade ward babyyy
level 11 darkness + circle of death mystic anacrum
level 12 take lifedrinker and another +2 charisma
level 13 grab counterspell and finger of death mystic anacrum
after that youre on ur own kid bc i cba to take it into the realms of trully unbalanced
feel free to use this (lmk how it goes havent tested it yet) and change anything up (id love some feedback!!!)
#:0 i spoke#hwfwm#he who fights with monsters#bg3#baldurs gate 3#dnd#dungeons and dragons#dnd character
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typig this out i immediatel;y realized this does not narrow anythign down
#who was that motherfucker.#<- voice og guy who regrets not caring about cards#Con stop yapping#Con goes to the shadow realm
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Okay Asmo
Asmo, Asmo, Asmo
When Asmo was an Angel, this was the general view of him:
And Simeon says:
Imagine being raised with this image of yourself hanging above you.
Imagine living with this image of yourself for thousands of years.
Imagine being raised under the implication that the closest thing you have to a parental figure, keeps you close because you're beautiful. Under the implication that it was solely your beauty that made him praise you and keep you by his side.
Imagine how much that would have fucked you up.
Satan & Asmo are so fucking similar.
Satan believes his ability to provide knowledge is what makes his existence meaningful.
Asmo believes his beauty is what makes him important to Lucifer (and possibly to everyone)
And it's all so fucking sad.
This whole family is so fucked up I can't deal with this shit
Asmo is someone who desperately wants to be loved.
And he works hard for it in the only way he knows how. In the only was he was told would make him loveable. By making himself look attractive.
But there's a huge con to being as beautiful as Asmo is:
It's very telling that the people Asmo spends time with are always referred to as his "fans" and never his friends
He's put on a pedestal by everyone around him (hell he puts himself on a pedestal ) and he's always expected to look and behave in a very specific way and because of that it'll be rare that someone will be able to reach high enough to ever understand him
Not to mention that the fear of being "so beautiful that no one ever understands me" can easily be dismissed as being shallow by a lot of people.
Plus, these "Shadows" which are their inner fears seem brutally honest so,
when Asmo says he hates himself...
This also reminds me of the creators' first drafts/ideas about the characters. How they were supposed to have more demonic looking forms and how Asmo was supposed to hate his.
Because he made himself look good in the Celestial Realm because he was told that's why Lucifer brought him into and kept him in the family
But then they Fall and he looks like a demon. Like a monster.
And in Asmo's eyes, this means he could lose his family.
So as a demon, he goes above and beyond to make himself look good and I'm gonna fucking cry because with this context, Asmo's desperation during the S2 popularity contest is heartbreaking.
In Asmo's eyes, he was fighting against Lucifer himself to prove he deserves his place in his family
So with all of this context,
Levi calls Asmo "his adorable younger brother" and says he's going to find a way to turn him back to normal
Asmo realises that Levi sounds like his older brother and that he actually sounds cool
And that changes Asmo back to normal
Levi doesn't call Asmo "beautiful". He calls him adorable. And there's such a difference between the two.
You can hit none of the marks for conventional beauty; you could look like a very literal sewer troll but someone could still genuinely find you adorable. Your older brother could still see you as his adorable younger brother.
Being adorable doesn't even have to rely on your outer features. It could fully depend on your personality. Unlike when you call call someone "beautiful", by calling someone "adorable" you're being ambiguous about which aspect of them you're specifically referring to. Usually, you mean them as a whole.
Not to mention that Levi easily stated that Asmo was part of his family without associating it to Asmo's beauty
Anyway, I have a lot of feelings about this lesson :)
:
Miscommunication & Misunderstandings: Angst
Satan's Sense of Worth & his Quest for Knowledge
Satan's Hidden Feelings
Trauma and Recovery
#obey me spoilers#obey me season 4#obey me#obey me shall we date#shall we date? obey me!#obey me!#swd obey me#om asmo#om! asmo#swd asmo#om asmodeus#om! asmodeus#swd asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me! asmo#shall we date asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me! asmodeus#shall we date asmodeus#om! levi#om! leviathan#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#swd levi#swd leviathan#shall we date levi#shall we date leviathan#om! lucifer#swd lucifer#obey me lucifer
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I love your writing. May I have Loki x Reader? The reader is a sweet, delicate dreamer. Loki has come to conquer the world. He saw her and wants her to become his Queen of Midgard. He kidnapped her. She pleads with him to let her go while she is tied to the bed. He caresses her hair and says she will love him (he doesn't want to use the scepter on her).
***Can I have White Reader x Loki, please? Loki just escaped from the Helicarrier. He saw the reader who is a sweet and innocent creature. Loki doesn't want her dead when he will start battle. Loki kidnaps her and locks her up to keep her safe. When he wins, Loki tells her that she will become his queen.***
Hi! I decided to combine the prompts and make the reader plus-sized. I hope you enjoy!
His Match
Pairing: Dark!Loki x Plus-Sized Female Reader
Summary: You’ve tried to live by your grandmother’s rule of being kind to others, even when the world gives you the middle finger. What if a Norse God decided reward you by becoming his Queen?
Word Count: 1,745
Rating: 18+/Mature
Warning: Kidnapping, Implied Dub/Non-Con, Angst, and some Violence
A/N: Thanks goes to the amazing @angrythingstarlight for beta reading this!
Loki was walking around New York City, scouting Stark Tower making sure the final preparations of his plan was perfect when something, or rather someone, caught his eye.
She walked out of what looked like a women’s clothing store with a forlorn smile. She was plumper than the average female Midgardian last time he frequented the realm. His eyes did not miss the enticing curves that lied beneath her clothes despite her efforts to ensconce herself into the background.
She was a vision.
Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments and it felt like time stopped. His heart quickened in his chest and a rush of blood surged to his groin.
He had to follow her. His Elskan.
“Barton, tell the others I’ll be out for a few more hours. Proceed as planned.”
–––––
He found you entering a rather destitute apartment complex. Its lights and foundation were a bit unsound and gave off a seedy ambience.
Loki grimaced at her living conditions. When he ruled Midgard, she would have only the best.
Casting a simple concealment spell, Loki entered her fairly small apartment. She began mixing ingredients together for what looked to be ‘chocolate chip cookies’. He smiled as he inhaled the sweet aroma knowingly; Asgard had only recently started consuming the sweet. She soon laid out a batch of thick, scrumptious cookies with a satisfied expression.
They reminded him of better times when he and Thor would sneak into the kitchens and swipe confections from under the baker’s nose. Loki chuckled at the memory; those were the days.
Not ten minutes after she placed the last cookie onto the cooling rack did her phone ring. It was her mother. Loki felt dread coming off his Elskan in waves.
Loki could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation, if you could call it that. Her mother constantly nagged her about her weight, life choices, and her ‘pathetic’ attempts to get over her ex-boyfriend. His heart broke as he saw tears begin to fall and the croaking of her voice as she bid the odious creature goodnight.
Several minutes after she cried herself to sleep, Loki entered his Elskan’s bedroom. He spied her diary on the nightstand and decided to read a few pages.
He was fuming within two minutes.
How dare that caustic pig sow treat his Elskan, her own daughter, in a such ghastly manner! Her ‘perfect’ sister always slighting and reminding her on how ‘she’ll never be good enough for anything’ and her father’s callous indifference to her cries for help and solace only added to his rage. Combined with the way her ex-boyfriend, the repugnant gnat, treated her (he cheated on her with someone who ‘wasn’t built like a blimp’ and ‘the only thing you thing you had going for you were your tits’) and he wanted to speed up the invasion just to watch the horror become engrained onto their faces.
And yet, she endeavored to treat everyone with kindness harkening back to your grandmother. She strived to be the one light in one’s otherwise miserable existence.
Well, she can be his light as his Elskan and Queen.
Loki took a deep, cleansing breath. He needed to stick to the plan. When he conquers Midgard, she will be their queen. She will grace the undeserving masses with her elegance and beauty and he will worship her every chance he got.
He just had to make her see it that way.
Gently, the light forest green glow of Loki's magic flowed from his hand to the crown of her head like a halo. He leaned in and kissed her cheek with a smile as he left.
He hated to leave her, but he had a realm to conquer. Though he hoped she’d enjoy the introductory gift.
––––––
You were in your grandmother’s living room; spacious yet comfy with all of her quirkiness and splendor included. It was odd since you haven’t been in her house since your parents sold after her death seven years ago. You tearfully smiled remembering all the good times you had with her, the only member of your family you gave you any true warmth or love.
Her piano was in the corner, barely aged a day with all the music sheets, pens, a light scratches you came to know and love. You took your seat and started to play the piano version of one of your favorite movie themes.
You were so engrossed in playing, you failed to notice someone materializing into your dreamscape.
“What a lovely tune! What is it called?” A smooth, honey-tinged voice broke your concentration.
You turned your head and saw what had to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He was tall (6’ 10” / 2.08m) easily towering over any man you’ve ever met. He had smooth alabaster skin, light rose undertones with a little blue-red just under his eyes. His cheekbones were immaculate, somehow looked sharp and soft at the same time. He had thin lips with a fair plumpness to the bottom one. His slicked-back, shoulder-length Ponzu/Shadow Purple hair kissed his lean, battle-hardened physique (if the way he’s filling out his outfit was anyway to go by). All of this deliciousness was clothed in a casual Palm Green suit with a Glossy Black tie and shoes.
It took you a full minute to stop ogling him, “Wha-What did you say?”
“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I asked what you were playing.” His voice had hints of mirth which was odd considering his appearance. Most people in his league would give you a thinly veiled sneer of disgust, but he seemed genuinely interested.
“Um, well, it’s called Merry-Go-Round of Life from the movie Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a favorite of mine. I used to play it all the time until…” You trailed off, not wanting to revisit how your grandmother died.
“You do not have to tell me if it brings you such displeasure.”
“Thank you, um…”
“Loki. Please, call me Loki.”
“Loki,” he inwardly moaned at the way you said his name, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Please, continue playing.”
And you did for what felt like hours, all while your sexy dream companion asked about your hopes, dreams, anything he could think of really. You in turn asked him about his life and interests; you even laughed at a story of his brother having to dress like a bride to get his hammer back.
You soon became enamored with Loki. It was refreshing to be noticed with actual interest, not ridicule or pity. He seemed to taken with you as well, if his gentle caresses and not-so-subtle lustful glances he gave you were any indication.
You were glad this was just a dream. You didn’t want your heart to break like last time.
Loki was about to lean in for a kiss when everything faded to black.
–––––
You jolted up from the mattress and screamed once you realized you weren’t in your room.
No, this room was…spectacular for lack of better word. It had high ceilings, large windows, ornate chandeliers, and magnificent balcony. Luxurious dark greens, gold, and black covered the room in splendor. Extravagant pieces of furniture dripped with precious stones metal worthy of queens or royal mistresses of old.
“What is this place?”
You tried to leave but was forced back onto the bed by a force field. You tried to take calm breaths just like your therapist taught you in order to make an escape plan.
No sooner did you calm down than the door open to reveal-
“Loki!”
Only Loki was wearing radically different clothing; looked like he walked right out of a fantasy epic. And yet, his smile was enchanting.
“What am I doing here? I need to go back home.”
He tutted in response, “That would not be wise, Elskan Mín. This world is mine now and this is safest place to be.” He was right. His brother’s team of desperate souls were no match for his cunning and Chitauri Forces. Midgard’s pathetic leaders gave up in less than an hour once their beloved ‘heroes’ were defeated, broken, and laid bare before them.
“You can’t be serious, Loki. I need to leave.”
“And go where? Like I said, this realm is mine now. That rat poison of a dwelling is no more and I have dealt with your ‘family’ as needed.” Loki smirked at the memories. It gave him extreme joy squeezing the life out of that worthless pig of mother, breaking every bone in your father’s body one by one, and leaving your ‘perfect’ sister alive with partially rotten skin. Not even the scavengers or maggots would find or want the remains of the scurvy insect of an ex-boyfriend, though he was still alive..just barely.
Well, at least until he decided on how to destroy the blight of creature.
Though he did make sure to leave two of your real friend were treated well. You needed to have someone to talk to while he was away.
You gazed into his Spearmint colored eyes in one last attempt, “Please Loki! If you love me, you’ll let me go!”
For a split second, you could’ve sworn you saw hurt in his eyes and he glided across the room. You back hit the headboard in you sad efforts to get away from him.
“Elskan Mín, I promise to always love, cherish, and worship every part of your glorious body. You will become Midgard’s queen and my goddess. No. One. Will. Ever. Demean. Or. Slight. You. Again.” he punctuated each word of the last sentence with soft, open-mouthed kisses to your face, neck, shoulders, and collarbone.
You tried to fight him, but it felt so good. His touches sent shots of lightning to your core; plus his lips and fingers were cook to the touch provided excellent contrast to the spike in heat.
You started crying realizing how pathetic this was, to have the first person to profess such feelings be a kidnapper. You were actually contemplating whether or not he was telling the truth.
Loki sensed your sorrow and kissed your tears away. “I know this might be ‘difficult’ at first, but you will love me in time.” He hoped he did not have to use the scepter.
You thought about your dream and all of the effort he was putting into this. It was frightening, but it came from a place of love.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay.
–––––––
@lookiamtrying @jtargaryen18 @sapphirescrolls @jobean12-blog @sweeterthanthis @gotnofucks @mcudarklibrary@saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @navegandoaciegas @stargazingfangirl18 @opheliadawnwalker3 @tilltheendwilliwritee @imanuglywombat @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @navybrat817 @anyatheladyclown @buckysbunny @nacho-bucky @donutloverxo @stephanieromanoff @threeminutesoflife @angrybirdcr @angrythingstarlight @chixkencxrry @hurricanerin @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil @captain–barnes @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thebanprincess @winteralpine @leslie2898 @buttercandy16 @propertyofpoeandbucky @hevans-angel @thorfanficwriter @afriendlyblackhottie @avintagekiss24 @syntheticavenger @phant0m-queen @tuiccim @blueberrythor @river-soul @justthehiddleswrites @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog
#loki (marvel)#loki x reader#marvel loki x reader#dark loki#loki x female reader#loki x plus-sized reader#mcu imagine#dark!loki#dark!loki x reader#marvel fanfiction#mcu au#loki imagines#loki imagines angst#mcu fanfiction#his match#oge answers#tom hiddleston
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They/Them Pronouns when referring to me please and thank
Me explaining every episode of season one of Transformers: Prime poorly in 3 sentences or less.
Transcript below the cut
Darkness Rising, Part 1: The Rock--I mean Cliffjumper--gets absolutely FUCKED. The rest of the Autobots decide to adopt some kids who are being bullied by Vehicons, and proceed to explain they’re fighting over food after a long civil war.
Darkness Rising, Part 2: Megatron rolls up with grape flavored rock candy and wants to raise a zombie army. Cliffjumper can’t catch a break even when he’s DEAD.
Darkness Rising, Part 3: Ratchet and Optimus, AKA the team parents™, go out to figure out what Megatron wants to do with his rock candy. The kids are left with Bulkhead and Agent Fowler gets fucked over by Robot Bird Man #2.
Darkness Rising, Part 4: Agent Fowler gets unfucked over and the Team Parents almost get eaten by zombie robots. Megatron controls the Zombie Robots because he stabbed himself with his rock candy.
Darkness Rising, Part 5: The gang has to keep the Cons from using the Bifrost Bridge to send zombie bots from Cybertron to Earth. Megatron gets fucking YEETED...or does he?
Masters and Students: Ratchet likes science fairs a bit TOO much. Starscream tries and fails to use Skyquake to make everyone onboard the Nemesis his bitch.
Scrapheap: Ratchet, Bulkhead, and Bee get absolutely fucked over by a termite-flesh eating parasitic hybrid while Arcee and Optimus slowly freeze to death at one of the poles. Raf never got his snowball, but to be honest none of them care because jeez everyone almost DIED.
Con Job: Bulkhead’s war boyfriend is coming over to say hi. Decepticons get to him first and use his face to infiltrate the base because they have a shapeshifting friend they didn’t think to use until now.
Convoy: Optimus and the gang have to help Agent Fowler with his UberEats side hustle and it almost causes a nuclear meltdown because M.E.C.H. just really want a piece of that cake. Ratchet confirms Cybertonians can and do get thigh-burn. Fuck Silas Counter: One.
Deus Ex Machina: Bulkhead takes Miko to Greece and they find out about a vampire device. Cue Indiana Jones meets Night at the Museum style bullshit. The name of this episode gets mentioned by name AND used as a trope.
Speed Metal: Bumblebee and Jack do bad boy things and go illegal racing because Jack has a dick measuring contest with a guy from school. Knockout kidnaps said guy and everything goes sideways.
Predatory: Doc Ok’s twin robot sister, Airachnid, comes back with a vengeance. Her and Arcee have major beef that almost ends with everyone dead.
Sick Mind: Optimus gets the literal fucking plague. Ratchet encourages illegal mind hacking technology so Bumblebee can buzz around in Megatron’s head and get a cure. This is supposedly successful.
Out of His Head: Megatron is now buzzing around in Bumblebee’s head and is trying to get back to his own body. Optimus single handedly stops global warming even though Ratchet LITERALLY just told him to take it easy. Welcome back Megatwon.
Shadowzone: Miko does some bullshit and gets all 3 of the kids sent to the shadow realm with a Zombiecon. Starscream loses his arm and the game of bullshit with Knockout.
Operation: Breakdown: Breakdown and Bulkhead have big beefy boy beef until M.E.C.H. shows up. Megatron says fuck Breakdown lives, but the Autobots at give a bit of a fuck. Fuck Silas counter: Two.
Criss Cross: Airachnid teams up with M.E.C.H. and they kidnap Jack’s mom as bait for Arcee. This goes as badly for M.E.C.H. as you would expect. Fuck Silas counter: Three.
Metal Attraction: Bulkhead and Arcee get put in the get along sweater. The get along sweater device doesn’t end up in Megatron’s hands, but Spider Bitch does.
Rock Bottom: Jack, Miko, Arcee, and Bulkhead get trapped in an energon mine because Megatron happened. Miko almost suffocates...fun times. The series would have ended a lot sooner if Jack wouldn’t have been the bigger person and just drilled into Megatron’s head.
Partners: Starscream and Airachnid play freeze dance with the Autobots. Starscream says fuck Decepticons lives and tries to defect after Spider Bitch betrays him.
T.M.I.: Bulkhead gets to learn via osmosis, but they have to make it stop before Bulkhead just becomes a talking book. What book was it? The Autobot Cookbook: A Recipe for Synthetic Energon.
Stronger, Faster: Ratchet discovers what a sugar high is and accidentally commits a heterosexuality while under the influence. Megatron gets absolutely fucking decked by Doctor Grandpa. Bookmark this episode for later, it comes back to bite them in the ass HARD.
One Shall Fall: Optimus has a burning bush moment. Megatron makes an attempt on Bumblebee’s life that ends up almost yeeting Raf to the Shadow Realm again. Optimus decides he must, in fact, kill a bitch.
One Shall Rise, Part 1: Unicron wakes up from his dirt nap and decides to cause fuck shit. Come to find out that Unicron IS the core of planet Earth and has to be stopped if the planet’s gonna survive.
One Shall Rise, Part 2: Optimus and Megatron bury the hatchet for 22 minutes. Jack gets a souvenir from Optimus. Cue Journey to the Center of the Earth.
One Shall Rise, Part 3: Ratchet exposition dumps. Unicron can get fucked, and he does get fucked.
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