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chuluoyi · 6 months

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✎ daddy-to-be

- gojo satoru x reader

in which you're worried about how he'd react to you carrying his baby

genre: fluff and comfort, mentions of pregnancy and dizzy spells

note: i feel soooo warm writing this *sigh* thank u anon who asked this!

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"Gojo-sensei! Must we do this?"

"For real?!"

"Okaka..."

"Yoohoo! Hehehehe~"

You sighed at the sight of your tall paintbrush of a husband. Satoru was supposedly teaching his first years—Maki, Panda and Inumaki—and yet, from where you were standing, it looked more like he was bullying them into following his whims more than anything.

A kind reminder that… this silly man is the father of your unborn child.

He didn't know that you were pregnant yet, because you had discovered it just a few days ago and chosen to keep it a secret for the time being.

In theory, this was normal. You two were married and engaged in a high level of sexual activity—something Satoru made sure of—and therefore, conceiving a child was bound to happen sooner or later.

Admittedly, accepting the fact that you were carrying his baby wasn't as easy as you thought, even knowing that. You hadn't seriously talked about having kids, and sure, your husband might have just taken a young cursed boy Yuta into his care—and way before that, Megumi, but it wasn't the same with your own child. It can't be the same.

And not to mention that you two were jujutsu sorcerers. Where would raising a baby fit in this bloody, cursed world you lived in?

...and above all, as things stand now, does Satoru even want a baby?

You released another sigh as you walked away, but then your vision tipped and you had to grab the wall for support. Right, you hadn't even been feeling well these past few days. You got queasy easily, and you experienced sporadic bouts of vertigo too.

"Sensei?" Yuta's worried voice greeted you, and you forced yourself to remain upright. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, yes, I'm fine," you assured him with a smile.

"Should I get Gojo-sensei? You seem pale..."

"No, no, that's—"

"Ooh~ Wifey!"

You cursed his impeccable timing as the striking white hair of your husband came to view. A mischievous grin adorned his face, a bundle of sunshine and trouble as always, as he wrapped an arm around you.

"Don't you have to teach the second years? My pretty wife, you can't be slacking—"

His smile abruptly fell when you subconsciously leaned on him and he noticed your shallow breaths. Satoru promptly tightened his grip on you.

"Yuta," his tone had taken a sharper turn. "Go to the training grounds and train with the others. Class ends after that."

As Yuta nodded and proceeded on his way, he immediately turned to face you. "What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern. "Are you not feeling well? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," you insisted, even though the edges of your vision started to blur.

Satoru pursed his lips, and you could tell even with his blindfold on, he was staring at you hard. "Don't be stubborn. Come on, let's get you home."

In an instant, he teleported you back to your shared home, his arms securely under your knees. You didn't know when the dizziness started to ramp up, but you were sure to fall if he didn't have a secure grip on you.

"How long have you been feeling unwell?" he inquired as he carefully lowered you onto your bed.

Realizing there was no point in hiding it any longer, you squeezed your eyes shut as your head rested on the soft pillow. "...since this morning."

Satoru expressed his dissatisfaction with a grunt. "In that case, you shouldn't have gone to school. From now on, you're on leave."

He fussed over you—removing your shoes, fine-tuning the air conditioner, and ensuring you were snug in bed. "What is causing you to feel this bad? Is it something you ate? We had dinner together, and I feel perfectly fine..."

You raised your gaze to him just as he tore off his blindfold, his eyes locking with yours. The blue of his eyes scrutinizing and assessing you, and suddenly, you felt insecure as he quirked an eyebrow, seemingly suspecting something. “Is there something you aren't telling me?”

This is it. You couldn't keep this from him any longer. This was his child as much as yours, he had to know for you to be able to decide on the next steps.

You exhaled. "I'm… pregnant."

Silence. For the next five seconds, you could've sworn that Satoru held his own breath.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, stunned, widened cerulean marbles blinking several times. "You...?"

You sat up, reaching for your nightstand and retrieving the five pregnancy tests you had stashed in the drawer, handing them to him.

Satoru fixed his gaze onto the two red lines on the sticks, examining them and then shifting his eyes between you and them several times. You didn't dare to look at him, feeling your hands starting to shake and your gut twisting.

But contrary to your dread, before you could blink, he pulled you into his embrace. Your heart melted as he softly murmured, "Dummy, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... I was worried. I didn't think I..."

He nuzzled into your neck, breathing in deeply. "Silly... I'm supposed to be your safe space. You can and absolutely should tell me these kind of things..."

A lingering fear persisted in your gut as you croaked out, "Are you... okay with it?"

Satoru snapped his head so quickly, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean—of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"

You didn't know why, but his impromptu and steadfast declaration brought tears to your eyes.

"Stupid," he chided, his voice tinged with slight giddiness and overflowing fondness, and doubled with the wide grin on his face, you were starstruck. Holding your hand, he pressed a tender kiss on your knuckles, and then on the wedding band resting on your ring finger.

His sincere, warm eyes spoke volumes as he said, "You are my beautiful, lovely, and amazing wife. And now you're about to make me a daddy. Why wouldn't I be thrilled about that?"

You had given him love that saved him in countless ways, some of which you might not even realize. And now, you were about to gift him another piece of you to love—his own family to cherish. Satoru was convinced he couldn't love you more than he did in this moment.

You cried even harder, wiping your face sloppily as you pouted at him, voice clogged with tears, a mixture of relief and happiness overwhelming you. "Why are you so s-sweet? You're u-usually... such a menace..."

"Hey! That's slander! I'm always nice to you!" he protested with a mock frown, trying to lighten the mood.

Satoru brought you into his arms again, affectionately stroking your hair. His excitement was palpable as he chuckled gleefully at the very idea of becoming a father to a mini-him or you in a not-so-distant future.

With that sentiment in mind, he genuinely meant every word of what he softly uttered in your ear:

"I love you, sweetheart. And mark my words—with everything I have, I won't let anything happen to you or our baby… I swear it."

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thepeoplesmovies · 1 year

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Film Review - Nocebo (2022)

Film Review - Nocebo (2022) #nocebo #evagreen #lorcanfinnegan @VertigoRel #filmreview #horror @J_PaulDevine reviews this one

Wealthy families and Nannies seem to go hand in hand in the horror genre. After the weirdness of Lorcan Finnegan’s Twilight Zone chiller Vivarium, things get supernatural in his follow up Nocebo. The nanny is here to help you! Eva Green drowning in a psychological crisis as a children’s fashion designer Christine. She is suffering from a mysterious illness which frustrates the doctors as much as…

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#2022 #Chai Fonacier #eva green #Ireland #Lorcan Finnegan #Nocebo #Vertigo Releasing

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phyrestartr · 1 month

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Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils.

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him.

Piss off, runt.

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.”

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.”

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper.

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo.

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket.

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails.

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful?

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him.

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him.

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing.

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces.

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud.

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.”

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature.

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him.

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make.

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you.

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape.

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you.

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace.

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for.

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all.

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes.

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?”

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible.

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.”

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.”

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted.

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.”

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?”

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it.

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?”

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him.

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else.

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted.

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight.

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding.

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent.

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard:

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful.

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal.

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it.

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world.

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you.

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine.

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.”

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.”

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.”

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.”

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?”

“Of course.”

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you.

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events.

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck.

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder.

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted.

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down.

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him.

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.”

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.”

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–”

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit.

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges.

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it.

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained.

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale.

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.”

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.”

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun.

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow.

“Another?”

“Kiss.”

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.”

“Oh?”

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 4 months

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Dreamcrusher - In Due Time 2023

Luwayne Glass, better known as Dreamcrusher, is a Brooklyn-based noise musician from Wichita, Kansas. Glass began making what they describe as "nihilist queer revolt musik" as a teenager sharing tracks on Myspace. After years of touring and over twenty independent releases, Glass moved to New York City in 2015. The same year, Fire Talk Records released Glass's Hackers All of Them Hackers under the Dreamcrusher name to broad acclaim: the release was included in Impose's Best Albums of 2015 and SPIN's Best Avant Albums of 2015, with VICE writing that the EP "could be the most important noise record of the year".

Dreamcrusher is known for a live performance style that is interactive, high-engagement, and multi-sensorial, with FLOOD magazine describing their live show as "a full-on, full-body sensory experience". Those praising Dreamcrusher's live performances often acknowledge that this combination - of high volume, unpredictable movement, and even flicker vertigo - can be jarring, producing feelings of disorientation and vulnerability.

"In Due Time" received a total of 29% yes votes.

youtube

#submitted #finished #low yes #low reblog #high votes #dreamcrusher #20s #high no

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macabresymphonies · 2 months

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(minor TMA spoilers and general TMAGP spoilers) Having so much time to think about incidents in TMAGP due to hiatus made me realize that all of them, to some degree, contain the theme of "sealing your own fate" or "consequences of greed/hubris".

You see, while I do not believe that TMA had a consistent theme every statement was based on, the overall messege seemed to be that horrors are inevitable. Once you've been marked you cannot escape, no amount of therapy or running can release you from it. I think Michael Crew is the best example of that:

"The thing that chased me, you see, it was an arcing branch of the Twisting Deceit, taken shape to follow me. (...) And I knew within that book was something that could not only release me from my pursuer, but chain my being to that rush of wind and vertigo forever." Michael Crew in "The Coming Storm"

You cannot escape it once you've been marked, only bind yourself to different one and this marking is, most often than not, nonconsensual. Jane Prentiss would run around and infect random people, Not!Them didn't need anybody to come to them before it was sealed and Peter Lukas also tended to just disappear random people just to feed. The fears were very predatorial and active and the victims were selected based on their own fears and anxieties. This is not to say there weren't victims who failed due to their own curiosity/hubris/greed, but I think it's telling that few of the most greedy/curious people in the series, Mikaele Salesa and Jurgen Leitner, stayed largely uncorrupted by the fears not cause they avoided interacting with them, but simply avoided getting marked by them.

Now we come to protocol and every incident so far has the main subject of that incident actively engage with the horror and have one or multiple points at which they could stop and leave, but they do not. Daria went to the tattoo shop on her own accord, Harriet wanted her husband back no matter what and even Dr Webber was described to be able to leave the garden whenever he wanted, but, due to hiding from authorities, chose to stay until it was too late for him. Every incident so far seems to have this theme of consent, characters detailing very clearly that consent was given to engage with the abnormality:

"Ah well that’s a tricky one. Sort of? In many ways he stabbed himself on me. By the time he saw the needles we were already very close. Close enough to smell his sweat and cheap aftershave. In fact, he barely had time to be afraid before we embraced. He’s terrified now of course…" Needles in "Introductions"

"The young man's interview was not exceptional as he had no experience in charity work, no driving license nor any demonstrable experience in retail. He claimed however, to know the Hilltop Centre better than anyone and as he was the only applicant in the role I elected to give him a try." Dianne Margolis in "Give and Take"

"I hesitated a moment but before I could consider her strangeness a particularly high tide of color swept down the corridor toward me. I panicked, and before I realized what I was doing I had darted inside the lift and slammed the close-door button." Terrance Stevens in "Running on Empty"

It does not matter some of these are under duress or deception, all of them contain some type of action "confirming" consent. Mind you I do not believe all the victims of of these horrors confirm consent in some way, like people who get killed by Bonzo probably didn't agree to it (though considering he's most likely a hitman, some degree of "you agreed to this by overstepping your boundaries" philosophy could be applied), but subjects of the incident very much pay for consequences of their own actions.

That brings us to OIRA itself, and how every character so far seems to actively dig themselves deeper by their own accord, Gwen wants position of power, Colin wants to figure out the system, Sam wants to know why he wasn't chosen and Alice is in it for the money (for her brother which still counts as consent). This is literally said directly to us in episode 1:

"If you hate working here so completely, you are perfectly within your rights to resign. No one is forcing you to stay here." Lena to Gwen in "First Shift"

All of this, all this horror is happening due to their own accord, curiosity, obligation, greed for knowledge or just for the money, it does not matter, the choice is there, but they delve deeper anyway. We will see how long it holds up, but I will be on the look out for this theme in the future.

#the magnus protocol #the magnus archives #tmagp spoilers #tmagp #tma #magnus pod #alice dyer #samama khalid #colin becher #tmagp theory #tmagp analysis #lena kelley #gwen bouchard #michael crew

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mask131 · 2 years

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A guide for reading The Sandman: Part 2

So... You have read the full Sandman series. You went from issue 1 to issue 75. From beginning to end. You had all the ten volumes. Congrats!

But I am sorry to tell you, you don’t actually have the full Sandman story. You see, Neil Gaiman wrote and created much more than just the numbered issues. He created a lot of side-stories, side volumes and “specials” whose presence are either exciting and thrilling additions to the Sandman mythos, or key elements needed to understand the plots and happenings of the main story. Don’t get me wrong, if you just read the numbered issues you’ll get the full story without problem. But you’ll still be missing the second part of the complete Sandman world. The “specials”. In French we have a clever word for that: the “hors-séries” (literally means “outside of the series”, it is still part of the world but not inside the numbered series).

Given there is a lot of those specials, I’ll classify them by “publishing order”. You’ll get what I mean.

I) The Sandman library

After being released as a series of numbered issues, The Sandman was collected in the ten volumes I described previously. Out of these volumes, one included actually more than just the numbered issues: volume 6, “Fables and Reflections”, added two Sandman specials.

# “Fear of Falling” was originally a story published as its own for a one-shot issue called “Vertigo Preview” whose function, as the name indicates, was to serve as a big preview for most of the Vertigo titles. As a result, the issue contains previews and half-stories for most of the Vertigo titles: Hellblazer, Doom Patrol, Swamp Thing, Shade the Changing Man... It also includes previews for two specials I will talk about later, Death: The High Cost of Living, and Sandman Mystery Theater. But these are all just previews. There is only one full, complete story, which is precisely “Fear of Falling”, conceived originally as a way to give a taste of Sandman to newcomers.

# The Song of Orpheus. Originally it was published as its own as “The Sandman Special”, but it was included into this first collection of Sandman issues due to how important the story is : for you see, it gives the complete backstory of Orpheus, who is an important character in The Sandman. And while just a retelling of the myth, it is still very precious to understand the full impact of the character.

II) The 30th anniversary edition

After publishing those ten volumes, DC celebrated the 30th birthday of The Sandman by reprinting them... WITH FOUR BONUS VOLUMES!!!

# The first added Volume, Volume 11, is called “Endless Nights”. This specific volume was originally published as its own under the name “The Sandman: Endless Nights”. Published in 2003, so long after the end of The Sandman, it is a set of seven stories, each centered around a different Endless sibling, and their whole purpose is just to further expand the world of The Sandman, and flesh out more the other Endlesses by showing stories from THEIR perspectives. It is technically an “anthology volume / expansion volume” that is not needed to understand the full story, but makes a nice addition to better understand the scope of the world and the working of the Endless. It does however contains spoilers for “Brief Lives” and further, so... it is at its right place as “Volume 11″.

# The second added Volume is NOT called Volume 12 as you would expect. It is rather called... Volume ∞. Of its full name: The Sandman: Overture. This volume was originally a six-part limited series created by Neil Gaiman in 2013 (so LONG after the end of The Sandman, and well after Endless Nights). This is the latest and final work by Neil Gaiman in The Sandman world so far, and it was designed as a sort of “grand finale”. Some people will tell you “It is the first work in chronological order so you should begin here”. DO NOT DARE! THESE PEOPLE ARE LYING TO YOU! Beginning here is the WORST idea you can have. If you want to begin The Sandman, you begin at issue 1, like Neil Gaiman himself.

For you see, “Overture” is a dual story, two series of events tied together that happen, one after the end of The Sandman (so after issue 75) and the other before the beginning of the Sandman (so before issue 1). Overture is both the prologue to The Sandman AND its epilogue. Beginning and end, alpha and omega... Hence the ∞ symbol. It is without a doubt the best way to end the series.

# The two other volumes are both unumbered and called “The Sandman: The Dream Hunters”. And they both tell the same story. So why are there two volumes? Because one is an illustrated novel, and the other is a full comic book issue.

Originally, Neil Gaiman published “The Dream Hunters” as a novel/novella in 1999 (so three years after the end of The Sandman, but before the publication of Endless Nights). It was a fictional story he invented, based upon and inspired by Japanese folklore and Japanese fairytales. Illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano, it takes place in The Sandman world, though it is not part of the main plot and you can actually read the story with no prior knowledge of The Sandman. It became so popular that for the 20th anniversary of The Sandman, in 2008-2009, the novel was adapted into a comic book, a four part mini-series that became its own Sandman volume.

Fun fact: when Neil Gaiman published the story, he wrote in it a fake “origin” claiming he was just adaptating a part of Ozaki’s famous “Old Japanese Fairy Tales”. It was a lie, as Neil Gaiman had entirely invented the story, but it fooled a lot of people who sincerely believed it was some sort of secret or missing story from Ozaki’s book. (He notably had to clear up the matter in “Endless Nights”).

III) The Absolute Sandman

Now you probably think: wow... this is a lot. But I got everything, right? NO YOU FOOL! DC, seeing the enormous success of The Sandman, decided to reprint a new edition of the compilation: The Absolute Sandman, even bigger than the 30th Anniversary edition. Not ten or twelve volumes, but rather six (five numbered volumes plus Overture), containing everything I talked about above (The Sandman Special, Endless Nights, Overture, The Dream Hunters...). Plus more specials not yet included in compilations! Resulting in five volumes + The Absolute Sandman: Overture + one special volume called “The Absolute Death”.

# The Vertigo: Winter’s Edge comics. Vertigo’s Winter Edge was a limited series published from 1998 to 2000 celebrating, every winter, the different lines and series of the Vertigo imprint with special stories. It ran for three issues, and each of them has one story created by Neil Gaiman tied with or part of The Sandman universe. One will maybe ring familiar to the viewers of the show: “A Winter’s Tale”, published in the second issue (1999). This story is actually a description of Death’s backstory, answering many questions about her “life” before the events of The Sandman (and also revealing answers to some questions raised in “Endless Nights”, even though it was published AFTER this story). Parts of it were adapted in the first season of The Sandman tv show.

The other two stories of Winter’s Edge are “The Flowers of Romance”, from Winter Edge 1998 and “How They Met Themselves” from Winter Edge 2000. These stories are fascinating because they actually depict Desire as the protagonist and “hero”. You see, as Gaiman points out, Desire plays an antagonistic role in The Sandman merely because Dream is the protagonist. But here he decided, why not show the reverse, the world where Desire is the protagonist, the “nice” side of Desire: the result are those two stories.

[ The Vertigo: Winter’s Edge issues also contain stories belonging to “The Dreaming”, a spin-off of The Sandman, but given Neil Gaiman was not involved in those I’ll keep it for a later post]

# “The Castle”. This story was originally published in “Vertigo Jam”, which is basically quite similar to “Vertigo Preview” and “Vertigo: Winter Edge”, just a one-shot issue that was an anthology of various stories, each taking place in a different series of the Vertigo imprint.

# The Death mini-series. In 1993, the same year as The Dream Hunters, Neil Gaiman wrote a mini-series with Death as the main protagonist. It was called “Death: The High Cost of Living”. This Death-centered story had three years later a “twin mini-series”: “Death: The Time of Your Life” in 1996 (coupled with the return of Hazel and Foxglove from “A Game of You”). These two were then gathered here as a duo in a special volume of The Absolute Sandman called “The Absolute Death” and centered around, you guessed it, lot of Death material.

# The “educational” Sandman. This “Absolute Death” volume also contains two “PSA material” or “Very Special Episode” issues. One is a story centered around Destruction and called “The Wheel”, which was originally part of a very special DC volume: 9-11: The world’s finest comic book writers and artists tell stories to remember. You can safely guess what the story is about. The second story is not actually a story, but a Death-centered AIDs pamphlet called “Death Talks About Life”. It had been originally coupled with several other issues of DC comics: it was found in the issue 32 of “Shade the Changing Man” (the 1990 series) ; it was also found in the 62nd issue of Hellblazer, and finally in the 46th issue of The Sandman. But it also existed as its own, unique pamphlet distributed in schools to raise awareness of HIV and AIDS.

# Sandman Midnight Theater. The last of the specials created by Neil Gaiman, and one of the last pieces to The Sandman puzzle. Long story short... There were several “Sandman” super-heroes in the DC Universe. In fact, Neil Gaiman began “The Sandman” as his own personal take on the several Sandmen super-heroes of the DC world. The very first of those Sandmen was Wesley Dodds, a Batman-like vigilante of the 30s that was part of the Golden Age of comics. In fact, Wesley Dodds himself appears in the first issue of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, and is part of The Sandman universe. After the end of Neil Gaiman’s series, the popularity of Wesley Dodds increased again and so in 1993 was launched a “reboot” of the original adventures of the Sandman, a new series around Dodds called “Sandman Mystery Theater”.

Sandman Midnight Theater is precisely a crossover issue between Sandman Mystery Theater and Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman.

# “The Last Sandman Story”. This is actually not a comic book story. It was a prose story, semi-autobiographical, written by Neil Gaiman for “Dustcovers: The Collected Sandman Covers”, which as the name says compiled all of the covers of Dave McKean (plus I think he also illustrated this specific story?). It a sort of confession story, a text by Neil Gaiman about real-life and his relationship with The Sandman series and the character of Dream. And, as the name says, it was written to be released at the conclusion of the main series, post-issue 75.

There you go! These are all the specials created by Neil Gaiman and that are part of the canon and official Sandman series. Of course there is more bonus to talk about: Neil Gaiman gave a lot of interviews about The Sandman in which he reveals all sorts of details and secrets, and they can be found across various books - the Sandman Companion, the Absolute Sandman editions, the Omnibus Sandman editions, there’s plenty of places to look at.

So... is it done? Is it over?

Yes and no. With this, you have covered everything in The Sandman world made by Neil Gaiman. So this is basically all the “canon”.

But The Sandman created a lot of spin-offs and side-stories that were not created or that are not linked to Neil Gaiman... as with many comic book worlds, it expanded beyond its original creator. So maybe I will cover all the non-Neil Gaiman Sandman stories in a third part. Maybe. If I have time.

#sandman #the sandman #comic books #comic book #comics #reading guide #neil gaiman #specials #dream of the endless #death of the endless #desire of the endless #destruction of the endless

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