Dark Themes - Blog Posts

Chapter 4: I see you

Content Warnings for Chapter 4:

Child Abuse (Physical and Emotional)

Neglect and Abandonment

Drug Abuse Mention

Domestic Violence

Mentions of Poverty and Financial S

trugglesTrauma and PTSD

 ThemesMental Health Struggles (Insanity/Breakdowns)

Graphic Descriptions of Injury/AbuseDissociation and Psychological Distress

viewer discretion is advised ⚠️

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My footsteps echoed softly through the unfamiliar halls, each step carrying me closer to a classroom I had never entered before. There was no sense of certainty about what awaited me beyond its door, only a quiet apprehension that lingered in my chest. After signing a consent form handed to me at the entrance, something unexpected happened—the paper itself shimmered faintly, folding and twisting until it transformed into a mask resting delicately in my hands.

I recognized its shape almost instantly, though only from the books I had devoured back at the facility. It was a kitsune mask, a relic often associated with spirits and tricksters from old tales. Traditionally, these masks covered the entire face, which struck me as suffocating and isolating—perhaps a personal bias formed from my own sensory sensitivities. To my relief, however, this mask was only a half-mask, designed to shield my eyes rather than my whole face. A practical adjustment, I assumed, meant to make it less overwhelming to wear.

Ms. Tess, who had been silently observing my reaction, stepped forward and explained the mask's true purpose. It was not simply an ornament or a ceremonial object—it was a tool. A containment device meant to dampen the constant flood of visions and fractured moments that relentlessly played across my mind like a broken film reel. With the mask in place, the overwhelming torrent of future flashes would ease, granting me at least a fleeting sense of normalcy.

She also gently suggested that I visit her every Friday—a standing invitation to what she called 'sensory moments.' These were designed to ground me, a time dedicated to unraveling the tension knotted inside my mind. Apparently, my powers were not only fueled by external triggers but also amplified by my own relentless overthinking, the constant hum of unease I carried with me. It was this internal chaos, she explained, that kept my abilities flaring wildly out of control, leaving me drained and vulnerable.

Those fleeting thoughts, fragile as fallen leaves beneath my feet, crumbled the moment I stood before the door. Room 206—a name so ordinary for a place that felt anything but.

My knuckles rapped softly against the wood, and with a breath caught between hesitation and resolve, I pushed the door open.

"As predicted, here she is."

The voice belonged to the professor, whose gaze flickered toward me with the faintest trace of expectation. I lifted my eyes to meet theirs, offering a plain, almost weightless, "Good morning," before stepping fully into the room—a presence without fanfare, yet not without gravity.

My gaze drifted over the room, tracing each unfamiliar face. Eleven students. Only eleven.

So, they weren't exaggerating after all. Those who walk the uncertain paths tied to time itself—our kind—are rare as cracks in the sky.  From what I see, they all have unique different objects they wear to help them control their powers, which is quite amazing to think that there's this one girl who have her eyes blindfolded.

"Please introduce yourself." The professor said as I nodded. "Good morning. I am Tachibana Hagarin..."

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Curious gazes devoured my presence the moment I settled into my seat. I suppose I couldn't blame them—a new face in a room so small was bound to attract attention. The silence that followed pressed against my skin like a second atmosphere, thick and unrelenting.

"For the continuation of our lesson," the professor's voice cut through the hush like a knife against glass, "we begin at Chapter 5."

A pause—deliberate, heavy.

"Dark Triad."

The words slithered into the air, curling like smoke around the edges of my mind.

"The Dark Triad refers to Narcissism, Machiavellianism, and Psychopathy—three personality traits bound together by manipulation, absence of empathy, and an insatiable hunger for control."

The professor's voice echoed within the hollow of my thoughts, and for once, the clarity of it felt almost indulgent. My mind had been left unclouded for days, all thanks to the mask resting against my face — a fragile shield between my sanity and the endless unraveling of time.

Even so, I couldn't help but wonder why we were treading the waters of psychology in the first place.

This was supposed to be a class for those who twist time itself — so why did this feel like an autopsy for the mind? 

When the class ended after 2 hours, I finally reached the schedule of vacant time. I was quietly thinking of what to do with the given 2 hours of vacant but suddenly...

A pen rolled near my shoe, its faint clatter against the cold floor somehow louder than it should have been. I leaned forward, fingers poised to grasp it—

"No!"

The word cracked like a whip through the air, sharp enough to slice through my hesitation. I looked up to see a girl, panic carved into every step she took as she nearly stumbled toward me, her shoe sending the pen skittering across the room.

"You shouldn't touch it," she whispered, her voice low and urgent, as if the walls themselves had ears.

I followed the flicker of her gaze to a boy slouched near the back, his grin stitched too wide across his face, a glint in his eye that spoke of cruelty reserved for those who knew no limits.

"Why?" My voice was calm, but curiosity curled beneath it like smoke.

"That pen," Clara murmured, fingers trembling as they curled into her sleeves, "has been laced with someone's twisted magic. If you touched it, you would've been swallowed whole — into a room stitched from riddles and silence. A place where you could scream until your voice breaks, and still no one would hear you."

Her words tasted like truth, bitter and lingering.

"But you kicked it," I pointed out, my voice softer now. "Wouldn't that count as contact?"

She shook her head, strands of hair sticking to the sweat gathering at her temple. "No... It needs skin. It craves warmth. Bone, flesh, the pulse beneath your fingertips. Shoes are just leather and rubber. They hold no soul."

Her eyes drifted back to the boy — the architect of this sick game — who merely offered a laugh that sounded more like something choking on itself.

"Just be careful," Clara said, voice dipping lower. "You're new. You don't want to end up... you know... a plaything."

I offered a nod, the weight of her words settling across my shoulders like a damp cloak. "Thank you for the warning."

There was silence, then her hand stretched toward me, trembling just slightly. "I'm Clara."

I took her hand — cold skin against mine — and held it for a breath longer than I meant to. "Hagarin."

A pause, then: "Can I ask... more about this place? This department?"

Clara sighed, her expression caught somewhere between pity and exhaustion, before she sank into the seat beside me.

"I'll tell you everything I can," she said, her voice no louder than a prayer, "in hopes it makes you feel a little less like prey."

When Clara settled beside me, I let my gaze linger on her — a habit born from survival rather than curiosity. Her hair, a shade too soft for this place, was braided into a bun plait, too delicate for a room that reeked of fear. The strands twisted like a noose, and at its center, her monocle gleamed like an artificial eye — an elegant restraint to a power I knew she could barely hold back.

"Where would you like to start?" Her voice cut through my observation like a scalpel, precise and clinical.

I averted my gaze, as though looking too long would unravel me. "I suppose... we could start with the culture here. What do people do in a place like this?"

Clara's smile was thin, barely there, like a ghost caught between walls. "Culture," she repeated, as though the word was foreign, a relic long buried beneath dust and rot.

She folded her hands in her lap, knuckles pale. "This building breathes silence. Not by design, but by consequence. We are few — a species on the verge of extinction, clinging to corridors stained with the mistakes of those who came before us. But we all share the same disease."

Her voice dropped into something brittle. "The disease of seeing too much."

I felt my stomach twist. "And the subjects you study?"

"Psychology, History, Philosophy, Sociology, Politics," she listed them like names on gravestones.

"Why?" I asked, though I already knew the answer would taste bitter.

"Because if you lose your mind, your power will devour you." Her words carried the weight of a funeral prayer. "This place is a coffin for those who couldn't hold their own sanity together — their powers grew wild, untethered, until they swallowed them whole. If you can't control your mind, you can't control the time."

Clara scratched at her temple, the skin red and irritated, as though her own thoughts were a splinter beneath the flesh.

"These subjects aren't about learning — they're about survival. You study history so you don't repeat your own mistakes. You study psychology so you understand the voices crawling inside your head. Philosophy teaches you to question your reality before it eats you alive. Sociology reminds you that you aren't the only monster walking these halls. And politics..."

She trailed off, but another voice filled the void.

"Politics teaches you the rules of power. Knowing when to kneel — and when to slit a throat."

The footsteps were soft, measured, each one deliberate like the ticking of a clock. A boy stood before us, the air around him heavy with calculation. His uniform was too neat, his posture too perfect, like he belonged in a portrait rather than this crumbling room.

His smile was polite, but his eyes were scalpel-sharp, stripping me bare in a single glance. "Sanity is currency here," he said. "If you lose it, your power consumes you from the inside out. So, we sharpen our minds until they're blades — because the only way to survive this place is to cut first."

The room felt colder.

The boy offered no introduction but just a polite smile. "Right, no need to sound like a walking thesis just to make us feel stupid, Clarence," Clara shot back, her voice light, but her eyes rolling with enough force to tilt the earth off its axis.

Clarence chuckled — a low, deliberate sound that somehow felt like it belonged to someone who knew exactly how and when you would die. "Just doing my civic duty. Our new little time anomaly deserves the full orientation package, doesn't she?" His gaze flickered to me, sharp but amused.

I rested my chin in my palm, already exhausted. "If we're supposed to be trained into functional, sane people, why's that guy..." —my finger lazily pointed at the slumped figure drooling onto his desk, the one who rolled the pen towards me— "acting like he's escaped from a psychological horror film?"

Clara snorted. "Oh, him? That's Ezra. He's new, like you. Except he skipped the 'gradual breakdown' part and just speed ran straight into 'hopelessly unhinged.'"

Clarence leaned against the desk, his expression darkening into something more serious — the kind of look you'd wear at a eulogy. "He's a walking cautionary tale. His sanity wasn't just fractured — it was pried apart, piece by piece, until the light itself showed him everything he couldn't bear to see."

He paused, his fingers tracing patterns on the desk absentmindedly. "You see, for some of us, the power doesn't break us. It shows us how broken we already were. And once the mind is exposed to too much truth, it shatters like glass."

I didn't respond. There wasn't much to say when someone described a fate you could practically feel breathing down your neck.

Clara, mercifully, broke the silence. "Anyway!" she clapped her hands together, trying to inject some life back into the room. "Moral of the story — don't touch random objects, don't stare too long at the void, and for god's sake, never trust the vending machine on the third floor."

"Why the vending machine?" I blinked, confused by the sudden shift.

Clarence just smiled. "It eats more than your money."

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Several days have passed, and I suppose I've begun to adapt to the peculiar rhythm of this place. The atmosphere here is unlike the main building, which was constantly alive with noise and bustling students. In stark contrast, this department feels almost isolated, its silence only interrupted by the occasional conversation or the faint hum of distant footsteps.

Throughout these days, I've found myself gravitating toward Clara and Clarence. They seem to have taken it upon themselves to ensure I don't entirely lose my mind in this strange environment. When they're occupied, however, Ezra tends to appear — often without warning. His presence alone is unnerving, considering our first encounter involved him casually rolling a cursed pen in my direction. A pen, mind you, capable of trapping me within a labyrinth of riddles until I somehow managed to solve my way out. To put it lightly, Ezra's existence leaves me with an enduring sense of wariness.

At the moment, our class is gathered in the gymnasium. Today's exercise focuses on building connections — not through casual conversation, but through direct access to each other's memories. The process is simple in theory: remove any object that dampens our abilities, select a partner, and lock eyes until the walls around their past begin to collapse, allowing us a glimpse into their personal history. It is, apparently, a foundational technique for understanding time travel. For some reason, the moment I removed my mask, nothing happened. No sudden flood of memories, no overwhelming rush of visions — just the ordinary sight of the gymnasium and my classmates. It was almost unsettling how quiet my mind remained, like a static screen where chaos should have been.

Perhaps it's this building itself — designed to keep us on edge, to suppress what we rely on most. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of subtle tricks they embedded into these walls. A spell? A mechanism? Or maybe something much simpler, like the weight of constant observation. Whatever it was, the absence of noise in my head felt louder than any commotion ever could.

"I'll be assigning partners," our proctor announced, glancing down at the clipboard in his hands. A collective groan rippled through the room, though none of us were particularly surprised. Of course, we couldn't choose for ourselves — not here.

"Hagarin and Ezra."

Ah, yes. The radiant beacon of my existence. How fortunate I am.

From behind me, I heard the unmistakable twin reactions of Clara and Clarence — a synchronized oh that carried both sympathy and amusement. I turned to them, silently pleading for some form of rescue, but all they offered in return were sheepish smiles and helpless shrugs.

Before I could plot my escape, a hand clamped down on my shoulder, spinning me around with unnecessary enthusiasm. "Aren't you the luckiest? Partnered with me!" Ezra's grin stretched ear to ear, radiating the kind of chaotic energy that could set off a fire alarm just by existing.

"More like a curse," I replied, shaking my head. "You cling like a wasp that refuses to die."

"And you," he said, utterly unfazed, "are the honey — all sweet and easy to mess with."

"Dear god..." I muttered with a cringed reaction etched on my face, turning to walk away, only for him to seize my wrist and pull me back into his orbit, cackling like a villain in a low-budget play.

He's going to be the death of me someday — that much I'm certain of.

The proctor continued announcing the other pairs, though his voice felt distant, like a soft hum beneath the weight of my own thoughts. Soon enough, it was time to begin.

We were instructed to sit across from our assigned partners, knees barely apart, eyes locked. No masks, no objects to soften the edges of our abilities. Just direct eye contact, until the world around us dissolved into memory.

The rules were clear, spoken with the sternness of someone who had undoubtedly witnessed the consequences of disobedience: Do not touch anything. Do not move anything. Do not allow yourself to be seen. Do not speak to anyone. Observe, nothing more. A quiet ghost in the river of time.

I met his gaze, and for a brief moment, I forgot how to breathe.

His eyes — mismatched and striking — were a story in themselves. One a rich amber, warm like sunlight spilling through ancient windows; the other a deep, stormy blue, like the sky moments before thunder shatters the silence. They pulled me in, gently at first, then all at once, like falling into a trance where the edges between past and present began to blur.

Somehow, without meaning to, I found myself wondering — if eyes could hold someone's entire history, what kind of story would his tell me?

A blur crawled into my mind, cold and relentless — like fingers dragging me under the surface of a frozen lake.

The flood of memories didn't arrive gently, nor did it feel like a tender unveiling of his past. It was violence wrapped in silence, the kind of silence that pulses against your ears when screams are too hoarse to escape. Whispers slithered through the cracks in my consciousness, fragmented mutterings, desperate pleas, the sound of skin hitting skin, the begging — oh god, the begging to live.

And that is the story of Ezra.

A boy born into the middle ground — not poor enough to be pitied, not wealthy enough to be spared. His life was average in the cruelest sense, hovering just above ruin, surrounded by people too broken to love him properly. Those smiles and bursts of manic energy were a carefully crafted mask, because the truth was too ugly to show.

Deliberately ignored by the very hands meant to protect him, Ezra learned survival the hard way. His mother — the woman meant to fill his stomach and soothe his fears — turned to drugs instead, letting substances take the place of responsibility. The house became a prison, the walls soaked with the stench of neglect. And when she wasn't a ghost, she was a monster.

She made sure his body bore the weight of her frustrations. Bruises blooming like rotting flowers, bones learning to break before they could fully grow. There were nights he couldn't walk, mornings he woke up wondering if his legs would ever carry him again.

And yet, here he sits — bright-eyed, loud-mouthed, and relentlessly alive.

But now I know the truth.

Every smile is a desperate defiance. Every laugh is a scream buried under his tongue. Every careless act of chaos is a child daring the world to break him again.

And in this flood of someone else's pain, I realized: some people aren't born survivors — they're made into them.

I wanted to help him.

It wasn't a fleeting thought, nor some heroic impulse — it was instinct, primal and unforgiving. My bones screamed at me to reach out, to shatter the rules, to tear through the veil that separated my reality from his.

But I couldn't.

Because the rules are absolute.

Do not touch. Remain unseen. Just watch.

So I watched. I watched as he collapsed onto the cold, filthy ground, limbs trembling from the weight of bruises layered over bones too fragile for this kind of life. His breathing was shallow, the kind of breath that doesn't expect to last.

And when I thought that was the end — that this was where his story would end in a puddle of blood and neglect — she came.

An old woman with shaking hands and kindness carved into every line on her face. She scooped him up like he was something fragile and precious, like broken things were meant to be cared for, not discarded.

She gave him warmth, food, and clothes that didn't hang off him like skin he was waiting to shed. She gave him a home, not just a house. And for the first time, he tasted love. Real love — the kind without conditions, without fists hiding behind smiles.

"What's a wife?" young Ezra asked one day, small fingers tugging at her sleeve as they sat by a hearth that crackled softly — the only sound that didn't hurt his ears.

The old woman smiled, gentle and sad. "A wife is someone you'll love — someone you'll never turn your back on. She's like a seed you plant, one that grows into something beautiful if you care for it properly. Promise me, Ezra. When you find someone, treat her right. Be the kind of man your father never was."

And for a while, it seemed like fate would be kinder to him.

But trauma doesn't disappear — it festers. It finds ways to seep into every crack, even when you think you've sealed them shut.

So Ezra grew up with kindness in his heart, but madness wrapped around his mind like a second skin.

He became a man who laughed too loudly and too often, because silence was where the ghosts lived. He turned himself into a living spectacle — an insane clown wearing tragedy like face paint. But beneath the chaos, beneath the theatrics, he was still that little boy asking what love was, praying someone would show him how not to break it.

Ezra is a good man.

Just one who was built from broken things. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 3,743 words

Next Chapter

"ENJOY"

"Dark them fic account"

There's no way you disgusting fucks get off to imagining characters SA you... some of y'all are so disgusting

HOLY SHIT-

THIS LOOKS FANTASTIC :O

The angst is crazy man XD

HOW DARE YOU BE SUCH A GOOD ARTIST >:/

LOONIE ANGST HAS A FUCKING CHOKEHOLD ON ME HOW TF DID THIS HAPPEN :|

@unnoticedunawarestillhere and @thelocalmoth THIS IS YOUR FAULT HOW DARE YALL BE SUCH GOOD WRITERS >:( /hj

dark!VicAlan

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️ Before you read this, it may be a little dark but I love dark, tragic plots! ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

Victim after the loss of his wife and a hatred instilled against Alan, already with his past and with new things, he decided to make his life hell by marrying him and giving him psychological, physical and sexual abuse.

AvA: WRONG DESTINY

a bit of my au that I did last minute, where the creators go through the screen thanks to a TDL experiment before the TCO and TDL fight and the whole TSC killing TDL thing, (this idea is also from someone from AO3 I will look for your story, it is very good) although the difference is a gun, this is a virus that hypnotizes the artists / creators of the hollow, giving them brain death and passing their bodies to stickmans.

An introduction of TDO (The Divine One), who was created to help The chosen one in the events of AvA 6 in the first episode by Estella who is a rescued by chosen after the events of AvA 5 and was briefly trained by Alan becker. It was something fast and he saw his savior in danger with second coming and did what he could (although TCO forbade him to create another one of them, the hollowheads) Although TDO was created in a fast and erratic way with the mission of protecting those in need, his attitude is not the best, distrustful, obsessive with protecting and jealous of Estella's RGYB + second half-brothers.

I'll think of something else later but here you go!

Mammon X Fem!Reader Oneshot

I’m a huge fan of angst and this was something I thought since I’ve read and seen so much Mammon angst. I love Mammon so much but I love the angst, so I hope you enjoy this oneshot..

Warnings: Language, heavy angst, dark, gore, sexualization, bullying, and family drama

Mammon Finally Breaks..

(Part 1?)

__

“Mammon, you are responsible for taking care of the human exchange student”

Mammon didn’t want to hear those words, he never wanted anything to do with a lousy human.

All he wanted to do was not have anything to deal with.. or being a punching bag to his brothers.

He thought of a way out of it, since all his brothers think of him as an irresponsible idiot.. so..

“Ya really think you can trust me on taking care of some god damn human? I might as well just sell it-.”

“That won’t be necessary, and if I find out this human is dead you're going to be thrown into the tomb. I don’t care what Cerberus does, he may do as he pleases”

Mammon just gave his older brother a glare, but on the inside he feels as if all he is a punching bag. Lucifer doesn’t even punish the others as insane as Mammon.

He doesn’t even know why..

“Ya know what! Ur evil, plane EVIL!” He shouted, but of course none of the others cared nor wanted to be involved.

They didn’t even defend him, they just did the opposite by laughing..

…

“Is it true Mammon has to take care of a human?”

“I would’ve eaten it by now”

“For real!”

All the gossip and murmuring echoed throughout the RAD as the human passed by without making eye contact.

She is super confused and doesn’t know why she was chosen out of all humans for the exchange student program.

Her thoughts were closed by some snickering by some demon students.

‘I’m just a toy am I?’

She sighed thinking about it, and remembering what Lucifer told her earlier..

“You aren’t here to make friends, you're here as an exchange student to work at your best. I just pray that a demon doesn’t try doing anything to you, just focus on surviving this year and stay out of my way.”

She clutched her textbooks to her chest as she sped walked faster, getting even more paranoid by the second.

“Oi Human! slow down will ya!”

She heard a familiar voice behind her as she stopped in place, turning around to find her.. Babysitter?

“Why are ya walking so damn fast, at least show me some respect or else!”

She could sense the irritation in his voice, but did not care at the moment.

She just wanted to get to class and get this day over with, she’s been disrespected and sexualized all day..

There was a pause between the two, as if time stopped.

It didn’t take long until a group of demons came up behind the human, one of them clutching their hand on her neck.

Eyes widening she gasped in fright by the sudden touch and on the verge of tears.

“Mammon, how’s the little pet going for you?” The demon asked with a smirk forming on his features.

“Because if you aren’t going to do anything, I would love to take part..”

The demon got closer to the human, she was trying to squirm free from his grasp but couldn’t.

His friends were chuckling at the situation and decided to record it.

Mammon felt himself suffer from watching that, it reminded him of something so familiar but..-

And then he saw it, he saw himself in those humans' big beautiful eyes in fear,guilt, alone..

Before he had time to think his body moved toward them both, launching the demon into the wall while grasping the human protectively in his arms.

Everyone around them snapped their heads up by the sudden action, and was shocked that Mammon of all people saved a HUMAN AND CARED?!

The demon who was shoved in the wall then got up to punch Mammon for the sudden outburst and for payback.

But Mammon dodged it like it was nothing and grabbed ahold of his arm, slamming him to the floor.

The demon coughed out blood and stilled when Mammon put his foot on the side of his face with a dark glare.

“If I see you land a hand on her again, it won’t be so pretty and I swear it will be more satisfying than grimm.”

The demons and the human’s eyes were widened in shock by what he said, he had never gotten this dark nor protective over anyone before. And nobody ever expected Mammon to do that.. he always had control of himself.. and lost it over a fucking human girl..

“AND THAT GOES FOR ALL OF YOU!” He shouted at all the demons there, as they all gasped and stepped back from his sudden words, even putting their phones away to stop recording.

Mammon put his foot off the demon's face as he scrambled away, a clear wrathful face on his features to what Mammon did to him.

“You-.”

“What is the commotion here..?”

Mammon, the human, and the demon stopped their tracks. They knew that voice.. and they knew they were all screwed and to stay silent.

“Mammon..! What did you do this time?”

The 3 looked to the direction of the familiar voice, the familiar black aura that filled the tension of all of devildom, Lucifer, he looked clearly irritated by his “little” brother's antics.

The human looked over and Mammon’s demon form was nowhere to be seen.

His expression was now guilt, emotionless, holding back- than he was a few moments ago.

His head was held low, didn’t even want to see Lucifer's face, nor let him see his face of shame.

The human seemed to notice this, but didn’t want to intervene in case it would make things worse.

‘Mammon didn’t do anything wrong, he just stood for me that is all.. and now it’s all my fault that he now has to get in trouble just for my foolishness..’

“You there, go to detention” Lucifer pointed at the student who had a big bruise and bloody cheek. He shuffled away in anger and fear, thinking about how he would get his revenge.

“Now.. human, are you wounded?” He stood tall and his gaze was intimidating.

The human felt a bit uncomfortable from the way he stood, but she couldn't just stay silent.

She wanted to lie and say she wasn’t, which she actually wasn’t because she is tough, but you can clearly notice her neck is a little bruised.

“On the neck I guess, but it’s not a huge deal-.”

“Mammon.. don’t you see she could’ve been killed from your stupid weak little mind!” Lucifer interrupted, looking at Mammon in doubt.

The human wanted to say something to stop Lucifer from calling his own little brother these horrible words.

She looked over at Mammon and noticed his fists clenching-

“It’s such an embarrassment to even call you my brother.. why would I even think about trusting you to watch over this human-.”

Bam!

It echoed through the hallway

The human's eyes widened as she saw the scene unfold. Her mouth agape in shock, hands not moving, still as a statue, but the little bits of a shiver you could see in her features.

Mammon had just punched Lucifer square in the face. He had finally gotten to his limit.. and couldn’t hold back from all the insults and shame anymore..

Lucifer actually lost his balance and stumbled back, putting his gloved hand onto his face in confusion, anger, shock.

His eyes were widened by what Mammon of all people just did, nobody has ever laid a hand on him, ever..

Mammon on the other hand, was shocked himself.. did he just do that?!

Nobody could speak, nor say a word from what just happened.

At this point Mammon didn’t want to be here anymore, he just wanted to go home.. but he knew he couldn’t because of Lucifer.

He will obviously get a punishment, but this one will be the worst ever before, Lucifer might barely kill him because of his sadism.

“You dare.. lay a hand on me Mammon..?”

Oh boy.. the friction of the room was insanely death-like, and it just made Mammon get angrier, as he added more.

They were both in the demon forms, they wanted to fight! Each other?!

“Yea.. I punched you.. since I need you to see what I go through everyday.. bastard..” Mammon replied, laughing at the end of his sentence.

He knew he was possibly going to die, and he was just about to get it, while fighting Lucifer, his own brother, to wound him insanely..

“What did you just call me..?” Lucifer said as his wings folded out bigger with a slight smirk forming, as his eyes glowed red like a real devil.

“A BASTARD!! A SICK PRIDEFUL FUCK! WHO I NEVER SHOULD HAVE FOLLOWED!”

Lucifer actually broke inside hearing Mammon say those words.. but his pride was overpowering him right now, and he couldn’t even feel the pain barely at all.

The two eldest demons didn’t notice the human had slipped from the situation. She quickly ran away to go get the brothers and Diavolo, this had to be stopped now!

This wasn’t the Lucifer and Mammon you knew, they completely lost control..

While she ran there was banging and shattering echoing through the halls..

Should I make a Part 2..?

Vague spoilers for sunrise on the reaping

Tw: slight gore, character death

Not actually any like direct spoilers but mentions book topics. Peeta centric

I keep seeing people talking about the body doubles and Peeta and how scared haymitch might have been and first - how do we like actually know it’s not? It’s probably not cause Lou Lou was a not great replacement but they had 25 years to change it -

But I listened to the winner takes it all and got an idea and idk if I have the time or energy to write it but fuck me man -

Peeta who did get replaced. Who is dying and betrayed them and fighting with the last bit of him who only ever wanted to be himself being sat in front of a pale, hallowed blond boy who looks just enough like him to make him pause. The boy who has no name who they say has to become him, who he fights but it hurts them both and slowly, slowly Peeta gives up bits of himself to put this boy back together because it’s always been easier to live for someone else but could he die for someone else? Someone that’s not her??

And being the boy with the bread, feeding and nourishing this boy with a puffy, stitched mime of his face. Slowly realizing he doesn’t leave this but Katniss could still have him, he could still send something, and this boy taking his shape. Telling him you love her you would die for her she’s everything please - until this not-him is a little-bit-him. He’s losing himself, he only wanted to die himself, and is this the perfect poetic end of giving himself a chance to live or the despairing tragedy of how that only hope dies?

Peeta dies and his blood sprays across this boy that’s not him and not his blood and maybe a district 1 defect from another world (oh what his father would say) but maybe they are now cause there’s no separation, just the lost little blond boy who went too far from home.

Ngl with winner takes it all on this felt like a very bloody, very what’s left of you when they gave it all away? concept

Cause then what? Do they notice? Will they let themselves? Does katniss know there’s something wrong past the obvious and realize or does she love him because to not is too much a betrayal for all he lost for her? Does haymitch see his sweetheart with too-sharp cheekbones and accept the loss? Does he spiral, wondering if he’s finally too far gone?

Maybe this is too niche I’m not sure this is worth posting but it was a bad day and here comes the word vomit -

What do you think the sullys family reaction to spiders torture would, be I honestly don’t think they’re going to address it in avatar three but I wanted to hear your opinion on it? (make it as dark as you want👹)

Hey!!

I do love a good dark angst 😈 but I def read this wrong and wrote the wrong headcanons lmao so sorry for the wait

I’m doing this in headcanon format for simplicity, N$FW/darker content below the cut.

TW: (All implied, nothing explicit) underage, violence, torture, S harassment/possible implied SA (depends on how you read it, tag is to be safe), humiliation, blood, starvation, isolation, emotional manipulation, abuse 

—— 

Spider didn't meant to tell them, he fully intended on taking it all to the grave unless something might help them in the war. But that was it - he wanted to move on

When he gets back, Jake and Neytiri scare him

He tries not to let them but he keeps thinking that Quaritch is back and he didn't get home whenever they come up behind him. Out of the corner of his eye they don't look like the people he wanted to be his parents. They don't even look like friends

They're kinder though, Jake especially, and slowly he feels himself being brought in

He won't ruin it with some stupid trauma response

He flinches away from them and can't sleep near them but sometimes Jake rubs his head or Neytiri will run her fingers over his shoulders when she passes. He swallows down the anxious nausea and relishes in it.

He. Can't. Ruin. it

He wears a shirt now and loose shorts that offer more coverage than his loincloth. He keeps a knife on a beaded belt over the shorts in an awkward combination of fashions and keeps his hair loose so it can't be grabbed so easy. The dreads are gone and so are his stripes but he thinks it's okay, he's just growing up. No one needs to worry.

He thinks he's done well at hiding it but it seems he underestimated the couple drastically.

Kiri ends up being the one to approach him

The family whispers about what to do, how to help, or if they can. They spent the first couple months mourning their own losses and caring for Neteyam but Spider hasn't gotten better. Tired of the indecision, Kiri slips out of their marui and stalks after her best friend

He's with Rotxo on the beach, drooping and tired but relaxed with the other boy. They've been spending more time together and he seems more comfortable around the Metkayina lately.

They don't look like his Dad, like the recoms that claimed him, and Rotxo would never hurt him. None of them would, they're safe.

He snaps awake when Kiri lands a gentle hand on his shoulder. He jerks closer to Rotxo who supports him but urges him closer to his sister.

"Sorry, sorry..can we talk?" Rotxo gives him a look and Kiri holds out her hand so...yeah. Spider stands and she leads him to the treeline

She sits him down with their feet in the sand and leans her head on his shoulder. She's playing mean and she knows it, knows she's his weakness and always has been. His stomach twists and he knows she's going to get what she wants.

"What happened?"

He bites his lip, brows pinched, and tries not to give anything away. "Was tired, it was a long day. Ro helped me with his ilu."

"You know that's not what I meant." He shrivels and leans his head into her hair. She smells salty and sand clings to her messy waves but she's always been his person.

"I...they're monsters, Kiri. Monsters. I...They hurt me." His voice cracks and his head is in her hands, dipping their foreheads to meet. "I just want this to stop..." He was fine. He was.

But she holds him and he finally breaks.

She listens while he chokes on the tears, telling her how his back hurts with the healing injuries she didn't know were there. He cries over the wrong feeling of fabric clothes but he doesn't feel safe without them. She wraps him up in her arms and they lay there. The stars are out now but they don't move and he doesn't realize that, suspiciously, no one comes looking. No one ever does.

When they finally stand, they don't go home. She leads him to the med tents still set up from the battle and sits him on the bed. Silently, she removes his shirt and gingerly applies salve to the stripes reaching around his body. Her tears land on his shoulders and his own on his thighs but he's not humiliated like he was before.

"..are there more?" He shifts, nods, and she does the same process to his thighs. Those aren't as bad, mostly from rough handling and straps but she continues her quiet ministrations none the less. Finally, she finishes, and they go home

He hasn't slept well in weeks, tossing and turning and afraid but she nudges him into the pile of her brothers and drapes herself on top. Lo'ak blinks wearily at him but Neteyam just wraps an arm around his clothed chest and pulls him tight. Lo'ak and Kiri have a silent conversation and soon he's the center of a very cozy pile of limbs and heat

His brothers flank him on either side, Tuk joining between himself and Lo'ak halfway through the night, and Kiri curled at his head with her head cushioned on Neteyams chest

It's the first good sleep he has since he got home

The peace is ruined come morning though

He's the last one to wake, Tuk mysteriously is missing, and the family is sitting around bowls of food. Kiri looks at him, shaky, and gestures him to her.

They sit there, Spider holding a bowl of his favorite stew, and no once speaks. He curses himself internally, not wanting to break.

Jake breaks the silence, "Spider, kid, I, ah, think we need to talk about what happened. Kiri said you're hurt and you haven't been acting right. I know, I do, that the humans are cruel. I know we didn't come but Sullys stick together. You're family now..." He swallows, guilty and nervous, " please talk to us."

He denies it, tries to stop it, but Neytiri steps in. Her voice is low and calm, like she uses on Tuk, but there's an anger in her eyes when she scans his shoulders.

"Ma Spider, tell us what they did. Your brothers and sister may leave if you wish, but you are safe. Tell me what I avenge."

He grips Lo'aks hand and Kiri's, head low, and breaks.

He tells them about the whipping, the starvation. He tells them about the machine that splayed him open and how he didn't give them up. He talks about choking on his blood and watching his memories, about Quaritch saying he sees him. How traveling with him was so much better than base until it wasn't. He tells them about walking to the shower with eyes on him, about being gawked at and hungry eyes. How he was left alone for a week and a half with his songcord and fear. What happened when they found it. Quaritch humming his song and making him bleed.

When he's done, Jake reaches for him and he flinches back harshly into Lo'ak. His brother, to his credit, just bundles him up and holds him tight with his ears drawn back in warning. Kiri has a hand on his back and Neteyam slips between them and the adults. He doesn't give them details, just the gist, but he feels lighter.

His family does not.

Jake spends the next days with Tonowari and Norm. Rage is filling every inch of him but he sits at the table and plans

He uses the information given to try and figure out how to fix it. It won't happen again, he'll destroy them, but he doesn't know how he'll get his son back to the way he was

He blames himself and brews. He feels weak and raw and can't process how badly he's failed. Norm, of all people, tries to tell him its not his fault but he doesn't think he'll ever not hate himself for leaving a child to be tortured

Spider wasn't his yet and his kids weren't safe. He knows that, but he knows no one came for him and Tommy either

He never thought he would be that person - he thought he would be better

He hates that his kids know

He hates that they were there and know what happened. That they know how he failed their best friend

He's afraid to interact with Spider, he's scared to scare him ultimately. But he also needs Spider to trust him. He and Neytiri are trying to figure out how to ask him if they can adopt him through a claiming ceremony, but right now he still jumps if they touch him

Toruk Makto knows he did the right thing. Jake Sully will never forgive himself or humanity for the lines they cross.

Neytiri is an active threat to humanity

She never trusted Spider, never felt safe with him, but she couldn't hate him

She left him and she'll always carry that, but children are precious and a Na'vi warrior would never hurt an enemy child

Na'vi don't hurt their children. They don't leave them or starve them or beat them. She already hated Quaritch but she hates him more now

But its the forced Tsaheylu that haunts her

Spider would never have that bond. That's what she thought, but the one time he does he is mocked and hurt.

The idea that humanity could hurt anyone with such a sacred thing, let alone a child of their own species, brings her to enough rage to burn down all of Bridgehead, innocents be damned

She hated humanity but now she has a human she loves. Spider is hers now, Jake brought him in after the battle and claimed him as theirs. He's hers

They'll burn for touching him

He's hurt in ways warriors rarely ever reach and so she snaps

She's already a merciless fighter but it's tenfold now. She will leave no survivors when sky-people come and she will see their blood pay the debt they owe

But for now, for now she takes care of her little ones. She helps Neteyam heal his arm. She teaches Lo'ak how to fight, helps Tuk get faster so she will survive, and helps Kiri become a healer to rival her mother. Spider is still learning to relax with the adults but she's his silent protector and soon he lets her heal his back.

She wraps his injuries and holds him when he's weak. He's small in her arms and she curses anyone who would lay a hand on things so precious

Rage fills her but she spends the time waiting to strike with her children and helping them heal like she never did

Neteyam won't let this happen again

He spends his time with Ao'nung and Rotxo

They're the next generation and he won't let things get so bad when its their turn

A part of him will always resent his parents for what they did. He loves and respects them more than words offer but he almost died saving his little brothers and they're still hurt so damn bad

He gave them everything he had and it wasn't enough

So he plans

He combines Omaticaya and Metkayina fighting styles. He compares defense, strategies, and discusses how they'll work together

He, Ao'nung, and Rotxo spend hours fighting and wrestling, training themselves to be strong

They'll be leaders one day and they won't be loosing their friends again

Part of him is haunted by the cruelty though

He idolizes his dad and can't imagine how the people he came from could be so cruel and make him

But he understands his mothers hatred now

And he thinks he knows it too. They took her sister and now his brother.

He's never hated someone before but he thinks he hates Miles Quaritch.

His mother just might have to fight him to deliver the killing blow

Lo'ak is protective

Anyone looks at Spider the wrong way and he's ready with a fist to the nose

He was the one that went back for Spider

He was the one that ran into the ship

Spider is his brother and best friend, his family is stepping in now but it's his job to be there

Older or not, Spider isn't as strong as them. His skin rips and his body exhausts so much easier than theirs does. He wasn't there before but he has to be now

Anyone who thinks about messing with Spider needs to go through him

His body itches with energy, with the need to do something but there's nothing for a 14 year old to do

So he just stays nearby

He distracts Spider, surrounds him with the friends they've made, and keeps him safe

He takes him on ilu rides and to visit Payakan. He introduces him to the plants around the coast and shows him the reefs with Tsireya.

He honestly becomes a menace, it's cute but Spider has to try and dodge him to get alone time

But he's a little brother and he does what little brothers do

He pesters. It annoys Spider to no end but, honestly, he doesn't think he would stop him if he could

Kiri tries to heal him.

She can't fix things but she resolves to be by his side

She spends the evenings with him just talking and laughing, he tells her things no one else gets to know and things feel a little bit normal in a twisted sort of way

They lean on each other through the healing and hurt. They coach each other through the feelings as best they can. They're best friends and always have been

She won't let that change

She wraps his wounds and learns how to ease the pain from her mother

She spends hours with Ronal and Tsireya to learn how the ocean fixes hurts and shares how the forest does the same

Its her self proclaimed job to make sure his injuries heal but so does his mind

Tsaheylu is sacred and so she talks to him about Ewya, his father, and the fear he still has

It is on him to get through it in the end but she staples herself to his side to make sure he doesn't do it alone

She makes Neteyam help too but honestly her brothers are stupid so its on her to be the support

Overtime, she and Tsireya gather together a collection to make Spider more Na'vi-esque clothes that offer him the coverage he wants

They try to make him feel like Spider again, braiding his hair, covering the bruises and scars, and painting his arms in new stripes to look more akin to their own.

He goes through stripes of each of his friends families, mimicking their patterns in little ways for them to lay their claim

She isn't the most affectionate person but for him, she finds herself making it happen

She loves him so for now, being there will have to be enough

Tuk is just a kid, she doesn't know what's happening

Spider is. . .different and she's smart enough to know it's bad

But her family won't tell her what happened or what's wrong

Spider just looks sad and her family are acting weird, but he's getting better

It's slow, but she's gonna help and it'll be faster

So she brings him toys and climbs on him, drags him deeper into the sleep pile each night and offers him the treats she steals from the cookfire

While her siblings get breathing lessons, she brings him to the tidepools and makes him weave shells into her hair

She does all the little things that her family do for her to make her feel better and thinks, quite proudly, she's making him better

Everyone gets sick sometimes, sometimes it's just in someone's head. Besides, Spider always is sicker than her brothers and sister - she just has to be persistent

He'll get better. She's sure of it.

A Different Undertale: Main Cast Summary

Content warning:

Frisk: Climbed Mount Ebott when playing with their friends. Fell and got amnesia. Actually takes the name of the first fallen human because of this. Goofy and childish. Naive. Easily manipulated because of their amnesia and general nativity and gullibility.

Flowey: If a monster body can't handle determination how would a lowly flower be able to? That's the logic I went with here. The determination and continued resets take a toll on Flowey's body. Due to his constant suffering he views the world through a pessimistic lense. More like a travel buddy for Frisk, constantly manipulating them to their bidding. Doesn't actually want to harm anyone, especially not Frisk, as they feel genuinely grateful for their help, but steal the souls to try and stop or at least delay his own demise.

Toriel: After being banished to the Ruins she lost all hope and began to deteriorate mentally. Delusional and has blotchy memories. Still kind and gentle but keeps mistaking you for her children. Doesn't remember who killed her kids but knew it was someone she loved and trusted. Somehow she begins to believe you killed her children and that's why you want to leave so soon. Similar to Horrortale and Underfell Toriel.

Sans: His magic became too strong and due to a combination of over exertion, low stats, laziness, drug addiction, and his loss of hope, his body began to deteriorate. He's basically a walking body made of dust puppeted by his soul. The only thing giving him a reason to live is taking care of his brother. Using magic, including shortcuts, causes him great pain. Smokes and drinks. Buys drugs off Grillby. Similar to Underfell Sans. Eye glows....grey. One hit is all it takes to shatter him completely. In genocide he doesn't even need to dodge as he's basically just dust now meaning your attacks have no effect.

Papyrus: Suffers from extreme autism and ADHD. Has little control over his body and magic. Still an expert with puzzles but they're more of his pastime. Needs constant attention and stimulation. Sans usually keeps him on a child leash to make sure he's not mugged or shanked or something. However most monsters actually really like him and most gangs even help him. A shining hope in the underground, showing there is good out there. Similar to Horrortale and Axetale Papyrus. Almost completely mute only speaking in jumbled words and an occasional NYEH. Sans translates what he means to the best of his ability.

Undyne: The cruel captain of the Royal Guard. Ashamed of the person she's become which is why she rarely removes her helmet. Sent to execute innocents and usually follows through. Refuses to kill children or queer people (as long as being queer is their only "crime") so she "accidently" lets them get away. The only person who can access Alphys. Secretly lesbian but won't come out due to fear of being removed from the Royal Guard.....or worse. Stays in the Royal Guard only because she's afraid of someone worse taking over. Still hates humanity but comes around pretty easily. If anything were to happen to her friends she might just finally snap.

Alphys: A "criminal" due to possessing human objects, being bisexual, and also illegal experimentation (honestly that's the only real crime here). Ashamed of herself. Isolated and hidden in her lab which has high security designed to only allow humans and or Undyne. Due to her isolation she has terrible eyesight. "Sees" by sensing Infrared heat like snakes. Nervously shakes ALOT. Has a lisp and a stutter and just generally has trouble talking. Has a huge crush on Undyne but doesn't want to get her in trouble.

Asgore: Has a genuine hatred for humanity after they sealed his kind underground and cursed them suffering. A cruel leader who hates anything the humans made. Doesn't even burry the humans just stores their corpses in his corpse room to intimidate the next humans. Doesn't even want freedom. Just likes killing humans. There's a small bit of his original kind and gentle self in there. Similar to Underfell Asgore. Cold. Destroys the Mercy and Fight buttons. Forcing you to just stall.

Mettaton: He was able to avoid execution for being so....Mettaton by promising to "bring hope and happiness to the underground." In other words....he's a sex worker. Hotland has become one big strip club. Many monsters hate him because he avoided execution by offering over his body. He's viewed as a cheater and able to be free. But really he's just as trapped as everyone else. Forced to stay in his ex form 90% of the time and has come to hate it. He's also come to hate Alphys for ditching him. He's become almost as pessimistic as Napstablook now. He buys drugs from Muffet to cope but they don't really have an effect besides gunking up his machinery. His body was also made more sexually appealing and even more feminine. All of his dreams of acting have been taken away and replaced with an eternity of dancing poles. He's similar to Lusttale Mettaton and Angel Dust from Hazbin Hotel

Napstablook: After his cousin left their dying snail farm Napstablook turned to drugs. They smuggled them from Grillby's as they didn't want to be seen but at least they always left money on the counter on their way out. Unfortunately the drugs dont do anything for Napstablook because they're a ghost and the drugs are corporeal. If they would've asked for ghost drugs Grillby probably would've asked Muffet to make them since who would pass up an opportunity for a whole new group of customers but Napstablook doesn't like to talk to people and prefers isolation. They are also suicidal and similar to most Horrortale Napstablook interepretations they make a noose with their tears which is what they're doing when you first meet them. Unfortunately since their a ghost they can never truly rest in peace.

Monster Kid: Hangs around with other gangs who are a bad influence on the child. They're violent and aggressive. They still admire Undyne (though they pretend not to, to seem cool) and get under her skin and she comes close to killing them a couple times. They actually do die in the neutral and genocide routes. In neutral they fall off the bridge before anyone can save them and in genocide they are killed before Undyne can arrive. They are incredibly petty and jealous towards those with arms which is almost everyone.

Temmies: Tem has taken advantage of her intelligence. She runs a cultist gang of Temmies worshipping the all knowing egg. She keeps the loyal by manipulating them and getting them high on Grillby's drugs. She believes herself to be too smart for college and just wants all the money for the hell of it. Sends her Temmie hordes on heists and has them donate their riches to the egg's donation box which just so happens to lead to Tem's underground weapons shop. She sells great weapons at high prices and is a pretty influential terrorist of the underground. The only Tem she hasn't converted yet is Bob. He sits in the corner of the abandoned Tem Village (they relocated to a new area known as Tem Empire or Tempire) and thinks about how far he let things get out of hand....and if he should just follow everyone else.

Grillby: A drugs dealer in Snowdin. One of the kinder monster though. He's greedy and will kill anyone who pisses him off. But won't go out of his way to hurt anyone and at the end of the day he's just trying to provide for his family. He doesn't make drugs just sells them though sometimes he spices them up with fire magic. He's well liked in Snowdin....too well liked as he's afraid someone's gonna let slip about his underground operation. He makes sure to butter the dogs up with treats in his "apartment" and let them play poker. Misses his daughter but was forced to move away to Snowdin when Muffet threatened not to supply him with anymore products if he didn't move further away from her shop.

Muffet: Money isn't the root of all evil. It's people's greed that makes them evil. And none are more evil than Little Miss Muffet. Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet making her joint and weed. When along came cops who told her to stop but they're just food for her pet to eat. She makes all the drugs in the underground and sells them to other vendors only asking for a third of the revenue. She may sound like a great boss. But if you don't pay her in time you'll find yourself on the wrong side of her web. She already helped save the spiders from the Ruins due to her immense influence. She just wants the money to fill her putrid black heart. She may be cruel but deep down she's really just a scared little girl. Trying to prove herself to adults and not get pushed around. The only people who truly understand her are her spiders.

Mad Mew Mew: She's already transitioned due to her dummy body being destroyed in a fit of rage from Undyne and her finding this body dumped in the trash by the guards who raided Alphys human junk. Shes content with this body. But the underground doesn't take to lightly to queer folks. Asgore thinks it's something the humans made up and thus must be evil. And so Mew Mew is considered a criminal just for being herself. But if she's gonna be a criminal she might as well own it. She's gonna be the Undergrounds greatest criminal. Cause if she's going down she's taking all these other motherfuckers down with her. She leads a gang of other oppressed people and commits small misdemeanors and attacks those rude guards. Always being careful to avoid capture. She's one of the top crooks on Undyne's radar. And yet Undyne can't bring herself to capture and execute her. Undyne understands her struggles but doesn't agree with how she goes about dealing with them. They fight on the battlefield but in secret they hang out. They have a frenemy relationship. Undyne is trying to convince Mew to join the guard to at least offer her some protection but she's decided on raining hell in the Underground just to see the look on the guards face when they realize they messed with the wrong trans kitty.

River Person: Hope can be found in the strangest of places. River Person has gone quiet. Communicating through actions rather than words. Ferrying those who are worthy and drowning those who aren't. They drown very few people though. They try to see the good or rather potential for good in everyone. They believe there is hope for this world. That people can and will change. And that one day very soon peace will be returned. Until then they'll just hum their little tune in their riverboat and pray for a better tomorrow.

Annoying Dog: God has left this world

Asriel: Hopes and Dreams are a thing of the past. Asriel was born in a world with no Hopes, no Dreams, no Love. They befriended Chara but were distant from the rest of their family. They helped Chara move in their wheelchair and wanted to believe humanity was good....but one day disaster struck. Asriel and Chara were picking flowers. Chara knew very little about flowers and made a pie with them for Asriel's 12th birthday.....and poisoned him. The buttercups they picked poisoned the young monster and he passed away soon after.... As Flowey he blames Chara for everything. For the way the underground is. For the way he is. And for giving him hope that humanity was capable of anything but cruelty. He hates humans he hates monsters and wants them all to burn in hell alongside him. Even after regaining his true form he's covered in melting scars like a decaying corpse. Because some wounds never heal.

Chara: The first human who fell. They climbed Mount Ebott to bring joy to Monsterkind but ended up falling and breaking countless bones. They became wheelchair bound but Asriel and Toriel cared for them. They loved flowers and baking but weren't good at recognizing flowers. This lead to Asriel's death. Chara was stricken with grief and blamed them self which may be why they didn't fight back when Asgore killed them. It's said that when you enter the King's throne room you can still hear their laughter.

Gaster: His fall into the Core was no accident. He saw the decent of Monsterkind. And didn't want to around long enough to see it. So he fell into the Core. However even in death monsters are doomed to suffer. As he didn't die. He's stuck watching the world he tried to help spiral into hell unable to help. In intense pain his new goal is finding a way to put this world out of its misery.