#300 notes. god. who are you people

[godza]

starting to think theres more than ten people (part one)

[a-whiff-of-a-dream]

Why are eReader so fucking expensive???

[fictionismyreality3]

Scary Dog Privilege

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, allusions to violence

Notes: I want all four of them to walk behind me while I carry a bunch of shopping bags 🤭

Gaz is probably the most level-headed of the 141, but that doesn't mean he won't go to bat for you in an instant. While he might not look as outwardly imposing as Ghost, or have the mecurial grin that Johnny can sport, he is like a snake.

Gaz will walk beside you while you're out, larger hand around your smaller one, a flicker of danger in his eye that only shows to anyone who looks a little too long. He doesn't need bloodly knuckles when he has his tongue.

"Oh, you were just askin' her a question?" All piercing gaze and sharp tone. "Looks like you were just leaving, yeah?"

Soap on the other hand, well... he's a little more physical with the people he's protective of. The man will not hesitate to throw a punch or two if someone so much as looks in your direction a little too long.

Johnny's a little too eager, seeing his abilty to protect you as a way to prove his love. Many nights at the bar with the team have ended with you or Simon pulling him off of someone who tried to order you a drink.

"C'mon, bonnie-" He'd plead, spitting some blood out in his desire to get back to the brawl. "Let m'show ye how good I can fight f'ye."

Price is a little more quiet in his protectiveness, but a little more showy than Gaz. A big hand on the small of your lower back, all burly and gruff as he follows you to whatever store you want to go in next.

Doesn't mind making a point of who you belong to, but prefers using his years of being in a position of leadership to his advantage. Someone giving you trouble at the check out counter? He'll have a nice chat with the young man about the importance of good manners.

"Go wait in the car, little one." God forbid someone tries to charge you $300 for an oil change. "I'm just going to go over the bill with our friend here."

Ghost just has to stand there. The man is like a wall of darkness and shadow and will take advantage of his soulless brown eyes. He doesn't hold your hand while you're out, but thats only because he believes any outward display of affection would get you linked to him and killed.

That said, he doesn't even really have to touch you for others to know you're his. Will follow you around like a lost puppy, just hovering behind you as you walk the streets and point to displays in the window. His presence is threatening enough. But he has no qualms getting messy.

"Simon... he only asked for directions." You stared down at his bloody hands. "..fucker spoke t'you." "Yeah, for directions-"

"Didn't like it."

[zeltqz]

call me or not, it's up to you.

☰ — synopsis : you come back home after a night out and see you accidentally posted your private stories public, and received a drunk lengthy voicemail from your ex, ran.

☰ — pairing : haitani ran x fem!reader ☰ — length : 2.4k words ☰ — contents : nsfw and 18+ contents, mentions of violence (sanzu being sanzu), slight phone sex; they don't directly communicate, ran being mildly toxic and messing with your emotions, teeny itsy bitsy drops of gaslighting ☰ — notes : i literally suck at writing toxic characters so im SORRY if this is literal ass, (im trying my hardestttt) i just had a dream about this and had to execute it as best as i could lol

It was a regular Thursday night when you stumbled into your date’s house, struggling to walk with half a heel working. 

“Let’s get you out of these.” He knelt before you and helped you unbuckle your heels and you sighed in relief when he slipped them both off. 

“Remind me to never wear heels again,” you giggled, clutching onto him. He leaned down and kissed you. You hummed, still feeling the buzz from the alcohol earlier and wrap your arms around his waist, kissing him back. “I had fun tonight.”

He cupped both your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses, each of them making you giggle at the ticklish feeling. “Me too.” There was a final lingering kiss before he pulled away. “Let’s get you ready for bed, alright?” He traced your cheekbones with his finger, and you smiled up at him, nuzzling your cheek against his hand.

“Okay.” He helped you up the stairs and you collapsed onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs as you laid there, clutching at his soft sheets.

“I’m gonna shower first, alright babe?” He said in the process of removing his shirt. “Wanna join me?”

You shook your head, eyes threatening to close shut as you nuzzled his pillow. “I’m alright. You go first.”

He bit his lip, admiring you splayed out on the sheets for a moment, his mind racing with all the things he could do you tonight if you’d join him in the shower. But of course his fantasies only stay in his head since you’ve been rejecting every single one of his advances for the last three months. It’s always the same excuses : you’re not in the mood, or you’re too tired. 

He sighed. “You sure babe?”

You’re half asleep at this point, just barely conscious as you murmur, “‘m sure.” His tongue poked his cheek and he nodded, saying nothing else and heading inside the bathroom. 

You vaguely hear the shower turn on and about to enter a deep sleep when your phone buzzes.

@/shibayuzuha : oh my god who is this man u’re with on ur story? He is CUTE!!

@/hina_tachibana : was this supposed to be posted on your main? 😢

“What story?” you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. You click  through your instagram story and rewatch the story you posted a few hours earlier when you were at the club. They were all videos of you and Masato dancing together, kissing, taking shots. Honestly you were buzzed the entire night and you thought you posted them on your private account, much less your close friends. “Oh fuck.”

You went to delete all the stories but the damage was already done, over 300 people already saw it. Oh well. That’s tomorrow’s problem. 

You lay back down, eyelids blinking slowly as you fight back sleep and check your missed phone calls you accidentally ignored. That’s when you see it. A voicemail from Haitani Ran. Any ounce of sleep in your body vanished the moment you sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes checking if you saw correctly.

It was over five minutes long and part of you wanted to delete it, but at this moment, you couldn’t help but be curious. You pressed play and put the phone up to your ear.

“Hey. It’s me. Hope I’m not blocked or whatever, I know how petty you can get.” He chuckled to himself and the deep rumble of it took you back to all those months ago when you’d be laying beside him, head on his chest and just listen to the sound of his heartbeat as he spoke on the phone.

There was a deep inhale and the familiar crackle of him smoking that always used to relax you. “Saw your story by the way. Is that your new boy toy? Two of you look good together.” He exhaled and his voice was kinda slurred. “Kinda glad you moved on though. Thought you’d never get over me to be honest.”

“Oh fuck off,” you mumbled. He was still as full of himself as he was when you both ended things almost a year ago. If this was a regular phone call you would’ve hung up or told him he’s not that special, but you looked down and still saw another six minutes left. What the fuck else could he possibly have to say to you?

He chuckled again, and it was so obvious he was drunk now, which surprised you as he was a heavy weight and in your three years of dating you saw him get drunk only twice. 

“You looked so fucking sexy in that dress, baby.” His groan had you squeezing your thighs together. “I can tell by the way he was holding you in those fucking videos he can’t handle you the way I can. He hasn’t fucked you yet, has he? Bet he’s real gentle and sweet with you not knowing you like it deep, and rough. Fuck, man.” He exhaled, rubbing his palm on his face. “Wanna know what I’d do if I was there with you baby?”

“...yes,” you whispered weakly to yourself. It was pointless; he couldn’t hear you and yet you were responding like he could. Blame it on the alcohol but there was nothing you wanted more than Ran right now.

“Bet you do. I’ll humour you though. I’ll take you to the dance floor and run my hands all over that body of yours, force that pretty head of yours back so I can mark all over your neck. Get you so hot and bothered till you’re begging me to fuck you. That happened one time didn’t it? Remember that one night in the club? I had my hands all over you and you dared me to flip your skirt up and fuck you right there. Man, you were such a tease, and a fucking sadist too. Remember when you said you wanted to watch some schmuck clean up my cum from the floor?”

You giggled and bit your lip, teasing your hands down your stomach. You remembered that night perfectly. Ran changed you when you were dating. You don’t even recognise yourself right now because everything just felt right when you were with him. Those years with him were the best of your life, you were young and figuring shit out. You’re still young and figuring shit out, but without him you’re taking a little longer to come to the conclusion of certain things.

Ran had his ups and downs. He was far from the perfect boyfriend, and he knew that. That’s why he was so surprised when you stayed for all those years despite his flaws. He was emotionally unavailable and never spoke about anything concerning him. He was sometimes rude and blunt when pissed off, and the arguments you both would get into would end up in the two of you ignoring each other for weeks. At first you’d be the one to break the silence and show up to his house and just hug him. He’d always smell like cigarettes and it should’ve disgusted you yet you couldn’t help but feel comfort. The smell was strong and yet it never bothered you when you smelt it on him. You’d apologise, crying in his arms as he embraced you back, rubbing up and down your back as you vented it all out in his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears. If he had people over he’d tell them to get the fuck out, hiding your face in his chest until the door closed.

That was the usual routine until the arguments got worst and your pride grew stronger and you’d refuse to talk to him  until he broke it first. He didn’t believe you at first but after a month of no contact he finally broke it first. Since then, he was always the one apologising first, showing up to your house in the middle of the night at random hours to tell you he’s sorry and didn’t mean what he’d said. 

The ups were better than the downs in the relationship. He’d teach you things, he always made you feel good, and simply being next to him was enough to make your entire week, even if it's for a few hours. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, like the most special girl to exist, and he helped boost your confidence by buying you nice things like clothes, accessories, lingerie, and tell you to look at yourself in the mirror and watch as he worships your body, taking his time to kiss his way down your stomach and thighs, and once he got to your pussy he swore  he could eat you out for hours, just until your thighs were shaking around him.

The memory of his tongue between your legs had your back arching off the bed clutching the phone tighter to your ear as you squeezed a hand between your legs, playing with yourself as he talked you through it over the phone.

“Bet you’re touching yourself right now,” he exhaled shakily. “If you’re not, you better start. Want you to remember how well I fucked you every time. Can you do that for me baby?”

“Mmhmm.” Thankfully Masato takes decades in the shower so you didn’t have to worry about him walking in or hearing. Not like you would’ve cared honestly. He’s not Ran, and he won’t ever be.

“Miss you being my good girl. Fuck. He doesn’t deserve to have his hands all over you. Should send Sanzu over and fuck, get him to cut all his fucking fingers off for touching you like that. Man, I bet that idiot doesn’t know that I fucked you in that same dress you know? That’s what got me so damn bothered right now. Wearing the shit I bought you to go fuck around?”

“‘M sorry,” you whimper, parting your folds and slipping as many fingers as you could fit inside without hurting yourself. No matter whatever you shove inside there, it never feels as good as Ran’s fingers, or tongue, or cock. “Need you so bad Ran.”

“Man, wanna hear how you sound right now. Bet you sound so sweet, like usual. Could you do something for me?” You nodded and stopped your fingers movements, listening to his next words.

“Call me again. I miss you so much it’s crazy. Got so much to talk to you about. It’s been how long? Couple months since I last heard from you. And I know you don’t hate me. You never could. That’s something I love about you. Always there for me when I need you. We both took each other for granted, you know? Deny it all you want but you did. And that’s okay. But I wanted to let you know if you ever come back into my life, I’m not letting you go. For real, not making that mistake again. I dunno why I called you tonight honestly, just drank a lot and now I fucking miss you. Call me or not, it’s up to you.”

Then he said the words that made your heart nearly stop and freeze over in your chest. “I love you.” 

Before you could even say it back the voicemail ended, leaving you conflicted.

[bacchicly]

A few imperfect thoughts about writing fat characters respectfully

By me :

A short (5'2"), fat (approx 300 pounds), middle aged (turning 42 thank god), married to not a fat man, mother of a pre-teen, white, CIS, Anglo, Canadian, upper-middle class woman who writes fic (including smut) about a character who is fat by TV and Hollywood standards (Penelope Garcia)

Note: fat hate or debates about whether being fat is healthy or not will not be tolerated on this post. That is not what this post is about. This is about giving some insight into what writers may want to consider when trying to respectfully include more fat characters in their work and generally moving towards writing doing less harm to fat people.

This post started with me wanting to respond to someone honnestly asking "how do I write good descriptions of fat people" because they wanted to write more fat characters and write them authentically (and I assume in a way that would be respectful to fat people) which is an awesome! ...Or maybe it started a few months ago when a writer friend asked about whether a fat character in a fic borrowing a shirt or hoody from her fit boyfriend made sense. ...Or maybe it started way back when I started writing my first fan fic featuring Penelope Garcia partly in response to being irritated about how so many writers wrote her as a young woman and were often silent on her size or spent a lot of time on her insecurities about her body... anyhoo that's where I come from... doesn't make me an expert except maybe on my own unique experience with a fat body...rather more a fellow muddler / fat character writer enthusiast.

THE BASICS

This first part is a quick list of basics you'll read in other posts about writing characters in general - but we'd better get them out of the way because they apply:

Every character is unique and they way they act and think and feel tends to be a product of some mix of what they look like, how their body works or doesn't, how their brain works and doesn't, their "personality", what they were taught, their unique experiences, and the situation/society they are currently in. There are patterns (which is why we get tropes) but the fun thing is that small things can make big differences. So to write an authentic character, it helps to have a fairly clear sense of at least some of those elements and do some imagining about how all of that would funnel into the moment your writing.

The amount to which you describe character bodies and the style which you use to describe them tends to depend on genre, what the heck is going on in your story, the pov you're writing from, the reason you're writing etc. So their are no hard or fast rules. There may be norms for certain styles of fiction, but then it's up to you to decide if it's stronger for you to lean into those norms or to write "against" them at a particular moment.

In order to be more respectful and less harmful to fat people (especially if you see value in actively challenging the anti-fat status quo), you may have to change how you describe all bodies in your work, as well the attitudes both fat people and non fat people have about bodies in general.

Now that that's out of the way... let's get specifically to my thoughts on writing fat characters. I'm going to divide this part into tips for DESCRIBING FAT BODIES, FAT BODIES IN SPACE, and THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

TIPS FOR DESCRIBING FAT (OR OTHER) BODIES

I would say that both consistency and diversity across the work is important, by this I mean :

Consistently describe bodies in about the same amount of detail across your work for the same type of character regardless of body type. So protagonists should get about the same depth and breath of body descriptions as each other regardless of body type. Same goes for vilalns, supporting characters etc. Sometimes people are mute about the look and shape of "strait sized" character bodies (because what's to describe - they are just "normal") but then spend a bunch of time on "other sized" bodies or vice versa (in this case, the fat body is erased usually because of some form of internalised fat hate or phobia paired with "if you can't say anything nice" don't say anything at all.) If you're doing either of these things, I'm not saying it's wrong and has to be fixed- I'm just saying it's a flag that you may want to think about why you are writing differently about different body types and what your work is saying about what bodies have value and which don't.

Diversity Bodies in the real world come in a lot of different shapes and sizes (I know I know obvious woman strikes again) but if you are writing stories with fairly large casts and everyone has the same body type - there better be a good reason for it within the narrative. Truthfully there are cases where this does make sense to some degree... if you're writing about a group where there are physical requirements and standards for the folks in that world (ballet dancers, fire fighters, cops, soldiers, fbi agents) there may or may not be less diversity in body type and more homogeneous attitudes to body norms within the group - and certainly those who are outside of the norm may be commented on or feel like they are "other". But if you are in a more free setting - if you write without a diversity of body types - especially in settings where there is diversity - that is probably a clue that you're not thinking enough about what your various characters look like and may be "normalizing" one type of body over others. Similarly, if you are writing about a real time and place where there is evidence that there were fat bodies and you have none...that's another flag to ask yourself why.

The magical tools in your toolkit for describing fat and other bodies: Body neutrality and POV

Body neutrality is about not loving bodies and not hating bodies just accepting bodies as they are....or in this case describing them as they are. No poetic language. No judgement. Just this is what this character looks like. If you're struggling to do this, I suggest doing a body map for at least two characters with different body types - possibly one that you find easy to think of positively (in this case likely someone thin or at least fit) and one that you find more difficult to describe positively (in this case someone fat).

Describe them head to toe, naked and then clothed, in detail - acurately but not poetically. Start with their feet and then work up bit by bit. Pay attention to things like hair, scars, shape of joints, acne, tightness or looseness of skin, colour of skin, nails, fat, lack of fat, muscle tone, where do they hold their stress, what's in the bowels, how well they do or don't work, do they have their appendix, what they ate last, proportions (is their torso long or short compared to their legs), lungs - how much do they hold, are they healthy? - now describe their throat, shoulders, hands, hair, then end with face.

The only rule is no positive or negative connotations to anything. it's neither good nor bad that they have stretch marks - they just do and they have faded to silver. Now that you "see them' clearly - now look at them through the eyes of someone who loves them in a familial way...what do they see most? what words do they use? now through someone who is attracted to them sexually and love them and aren't ashamed...what do they see most? what words do they use? Now through the eyes of someone who hates them or wants to change them? or a child? or a dog? Now... how does your character feel about these descriptions? Now you have a variety of words you can draw on to describe the body and you also should have a fairly good idea of what is a more skewed view of the body and a more realistic view.

Also...it can be helpful to remember there are no consistently good or bad words to describe bodies - it depends on context and who is using the words. It's a lot like how sick can be used to describe something negatively or positively depending on the agreed upon meaning of the word by a group.

DESCRIBING BODIES IN SPACE/MOTION

Ok here's the thing - for every activity you can think of - there is a fat body that does it well and a fat body that can't do it easily or at all and there are a lot of reasons for both. Often it has to do with the fact that a lot of equipment is built for people who are 250lbs or less; and anything for bigger people tends to cost a premium. Also, if it's not an easy new skill to acquire with the body you've got...it may take longer and more bravery to keep pushing through to achieve mastery. People may try to discourage you from pursuing things. Sometimes out of prejudice, sometimes out of impatience, sometimes out of caring.

So deciding what your character's body can do easily and what it can't and why is more important than me giving you a list of words for how to describe fat movements.

My suggestion is: do your research. What sorts of body types have done the activity in the real world? What are the exceptions? What changes? So for example if a fat person is climbing a mountain - do they need more help? Different equipment? A different route?

Things to consider:

- equipment / things that can have weight limits: bunk beds, roller coasters, scooters, waterslides, camping chairs, elevators, trampolines, some bikes, life jackets (finding one that fit was a nightmare), exercise balls, airline seats (learning to ask for the seatbelt extender without second thought or shame was a lifesaver)

- not all fat people have pain, those who do will move taking into account the specifics of the pain - same as a lean person

- when I was pregnant I just got more cylindrical and did not get a classic belly. I moved well and easily all the way through my pregnancy, I had none of the back pain or ankle pain some people get. I stood for a lot of my labour. I gave birth on my hands and knees. Other fat people will have had different experiences of pregnancy...but that was mine.

- clothing can have a huge impact on what bounces or jiggles and what doesn't

- most (but not all) fat people I know are particularly sensitive to appearing sweaty or smelling bad

- how winded someone gets is not directly correlated to body size, neither is heart rate or breathing style; I have theatre training and grew up swimming - I breath very slowly and very deeply normally - so when I talk a slow deep breath...it is very slow and deep indeed. I have always been fat but can swim forever - I have always gotten winded and kind of dizzy running... Other fat people may be opposite.

- people do not "see fat" consistently. People regularly underestimate how fat I am (by 100+ pounds or many clothing sizes) because I am short, well spoken, proportioned in a way that is seen as fairly typical, and very mobile and very light on my feet. Someone who weighs less than me but is slower moving, dull witted, in a sour mood, is illl, or poorly dressed may be perceived as much heavier than than someone the same weight or heavier who is behaving/clothed differently (which can change how much fat hate someone experiences) and definately heavier than they are. Height also changes how people perceive weight.

- many stores still don't carry plus sized clothing, but eventually i sort of got used to it - although some days it makes me angry and other days sad

- chairs with arms or the occasional booth can be uncomfortable or just plain impossible to sit in, it's probably partly my ADHD but I often forget this until it happens; for taller and fatter people than me this can be a much more regular occurrence.

- once (if) a character figures out how to dress/move their body in a way that feels comfortable and meets general standards (or at least theirs) of respectability - they may not think that much about their body...or at least until something external draws attention to it

- I don't like feeling like I'm squishing people, so I will make myself small and still on buses or at the theatre, I also don't like sitting on laps or being lifted or carried.

- I often feel much taller than I actually am - except when I am standing right beside someone taller or am trying to reach something on a high shelf. The same principle applies - I feel larger next to smaller people and smaller next to larger ones.

- clothing and what I'm carrying also changes how I move (just like my lean counterparts)

- I don't lounge, my car seat is set almost straight but I sit further back than my brother in law who has a similar height and weight - he leans the seat back but pulls closer. I don't nap. My leaner husband both lounges and naps.

- some fat folks eat, walk, and move quickly - some slowly; figuring out which your character does, when they behave "out of character", and why these are their preferences will go a long way to creating an authentic feeling fat character

- acne is a thing and learning to accept ones rolls and tummy aprons (and thus take care of them properly) is a common challenge; although many do it naturally without thinking much of it. You lift your breasts and wash underneath - you lift you belly and wash underneath.

- fat bodies have the same reactions as everyone else: they tingle, burn, get numb, get goose bumps, like to be touched in certain places and in certain ways, feel the breeze, get hot, get cold, shiver, stretch, relax, get aroused, feel release, hold tension, feel capable and strong, feel weak...no matter who you are sitting in a chair that's too small for you will put pressure on your body and feel uncomfortable or safe ..you can explore what that is like. Sometimes it is a reassuring sensation. Sometimes it is uncomfortable. This is the same for fat bodies. It just may happen more frequently and depending on your character's context and experience the emotional reaction / thoughts that are generated may be a bit different.

THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

I think I touched on some of this in some of the earlier sections...but here I want to talk a bit about my experience of being fat and my thoughts about it - your fat characters may or may not feel similarly...but my hope is that you at least think about options as opposed to only writing one or two types of fat character.

I mainly "feel" fat in moments when it is pointed out to me or I am limited in what I can do because of it

I quite like my body, it is my home and I feel very connected to it's features. In my experience this is unusual for many people in North American society regardless of actual body shape or weight. Sometimes I feel guilty for not hating my body the way "I am supposed to" and wonder vaguely if my body would be different if I could hate it more (although as I get older I doubt it).

I do feel some pressure to be a cheerful "good" fat person as a way to stay safe and survive.

Nothing makes people more uncomfortable than me calling myself fat without judgement or asking for accomodation matter of factly. It took me a long time to feel comfortable doing so, but I do it now all the time and it makes my life better.

I felt some pressure to be the fun friend who people feel comfortable eating whatever they wanted with and I often felt like I was depended on to order dessert so they could too. This may have been all in my mind though.

Fat bellies can be very intimate places.

Not all fat people have dieted, but many have. I was lucky enough to never be forced into a diet. I did try keto once but it was a bit intense and nuts so I stopped. I learned a bunch doing it though.

Medical people not treating you appropriately when your fat is 100% a thing.

Internalised fat hate and fat phobia is a thing for many fat people and it pops up at weird moments.

I don 't.give a damn about being in a bathing suit. As long as it fits and my boobs and butt.aren't.falling out - I am happy and feel very attractive. In fact I am probably at my most comfortable in a bathing suit or naked. My body is mine in both those instances.

To reach the "healthy weight" for my height - I would have to lose half of my body mass. That is a lot of me to loose. Embarking on something like that would be totally different than loosing 5 or 10 pounds. Trying to navigate the various medical opinions about whether being fat is bad or not is exhausting.

For me, being fat and older is easier than being fat and younger. This could easily be the opposite for someone else.

Some fat people are into sex, some are not . Some folks are into sex with fat people and some are not. Some are nice about it. Some are not. Some want nice. Some do not.

Fat people are all around you living their best life or their worst life or somewhere in between. We know we are fat. We sometimes care and sometimes don't.

Ok that's it. I don't know if it will help anyone or if it's just a collection of rambles - but at the end of the day...fat people are just people. We are not going to go away. We are all sorts. We are the heroes of our own stories. We are people who are loved, depended on, hated, ignored, and/or spotlighted.

Some fat people think about being fat all the time. Some rarely. Just please don't erase us or other us.

Just by taking the step to interrogate your own biases and any feelings / assumptions you have about fatness/thinness is a huge step and will help limit the harm you could unintentionally do to fat people...actually to all people. Like all forms of hate and intelorance - Fat hate hurts EVERYONE. I would argue it privileges a few...but even that can be excruciating for the individuals who strive to retain that priviledge. We need to dismantle it.

[sugasiren]

☆Astro Observations PT 3☆

**NOTE: This blog contains Mature content.

🩷 Libra & Pisces Venus can be prone to cheating, as BOTH tend to fall in love with the "idea" of love rather than the actual person in front of them. Flaky as fuck, but they're a hella charming bunch tho! Usually attractive.

❤️‍🔥 Scorpio Risings can sometimes struggle with intimacy, due to having Air Signs over their Water Houses. They crave deep bonds (like all Scorpio placements) yet often run from them at the same time. They can allow their FEAR to sabotage their greatest connections. It's tragic!

🩷 Capricorn Moon Men are hot AF! Their sex appeal is highly underrated if you ask me. They appear calm, dominant, stoic & strong - like men whom you can truly rely upon in every way. And ohhh - they also have seriously Big Dick Energy. 🤣 Brad Pitt, George Clooney & Dwayne Johnson have all been voted Sexiest Man Alive for good reason! 💋 Gerard Butler displayed such stunning power as King Leonidis in the 300 movie; Ryan Gosling passionately stole our hearts in The Notebook; Michael Douglass snatched our panties through the screen in Basic Instinct; And Freddy Mercury is an LGBT legend whose iconic musical anthems continue to make everyone from *all* walks of life feel mightily empowered. 💪How did Cap Moons get so damn awesome?? I tip my hat off to you guys! Much love.

YUM!! 🤪 *drools unapologetically*

❤️‍🔥 Mars 2H and/or 5H Synastry are *huge* indicators for attraction. It goes deeper than money, fun, etc. The House Person is typically rather possessive over the Mars Person; and the Mars Person feels very invested in the House Person. You will greatly enjoy pleasuring each other. 💋 The 2nd House = attraction to each others bodies. You want to devour them like dessert! 🤪 But you also see real VALUE in them as well. The 5th House = romantic attraction & passion. You both bring endless amounts of joy to one another both in & out of the bedroom.

🩷 You can easily fall in love with or quickly gain strong feelings for someone whose DSC or 7H is conjunct your Venus. You view them as the Ideal Partner because they embody many of the qualities that you're looking for long-term.

❤️‍🔥 In 8th House Synastry, BOTH parties have power in different ways. The House Person sets the pace of the relationship and decides *when* they will allow the Planet Person into their heart or their "world", so to speak. And the Planet Person decides *when* they will surrender to the House Person - setting the tone for transformation, as they have a lot of influence on the HP's moods & overall well-being. BOTH parties have an emotional pull over the other! 💯 It's only "lopsided" if somebody isn't physically attracted to the other to begin with. 🤷🏾‍♀️ In that case, you're wasting your time and need to move on ASAP.

🩷 Moon + Mars Synastry = the best of both worlds!! Sexual AND emotional compatibility between you & your partner. Tough & Tender. Masculine + Feminine enraptured in a sensual Tango. 💃🏾 Hair-pulling & ass-slapping one minute... passionate kisses & slow grinds the next... with loving cuddles ALWAYS sure to follow after an explosive climax. 🔥 This is the person whom you could watch paint dry with and *still* have the time of your life together! You excite them. They make you feel vulnerable. No one can make you madder than they can. Lol. You have a rare connection & can see into each other's souls. 🫶 So cherish it!

❤️‍🔥 Venus 8H Individuals are often highly selective about who they sleep with, and especially choosy about who they commit to. It's not easy to win their heart! They typically have MANY admirers though who obsess over trying to *capture* them. They are effortlessly captivating, seductive people whom others are desperate to get the approval of. 💋 Everyone wants them, but few actually get to have them. But my God, if they choose you - they are highly loyal, loving & devoted! 💯 Their connection with their partner gets stronger (not weaker) over time. They seek to transform you sexually, emotionally, spirituality - and they deeply *crave* for you to do the same for them in return. 🔥 And if they can't be consumed by their TRUE EQUAL... they'd rather remain alone. These people DO NOT settle for less. They'll have fun with you, and that is surely it.

☆That's all for now, Darlings! Thanks so much for being apart of my lovely world. 🔮

[acim-ed-ortsac]

Butterfly Kick (Shinobu! Male! Reader x Blue Lock)

You knew you were shorter than the other football players in this room, not as strong as them, and admittedly your face was considered cute. But one thing you can rely on is your speed and agility. As you stood amongst the sea of around 300 other boys in this building, you waited for the person who summoned you here. You noted well-known figures here such as the genius speedster, Chigiri Hyouma, whom you heard of in middle school. Another guy was the heir of the Mikage Corporations, Mikage Reo, which intrigued you since you hadn’t heard of him playing football.

Adjusting the strap of your gym bag, your eyes went around the room some more before the screen at the very front flickered to life. A bespectacled man who looked unhealthily thin with bowl-cut hair greeted you, “ Greetings, diamonds in the rough,” were his first words. His dark blank wide eyes stared down at you as if you were mortals and he was a god. In a way, maybe he is in this situation.

His speech at first brought chaos and irritation, followed by fear at the prospect of removing their chance at the U-20 team. You had internally scoffed at that. Especially when ‘Japan's Jewel’ had protested against the man who calls himself Ego Jinpaichi ideologies. But you, you saw some truth in them. You weren’t ignorant or unaware of the flaws in Japan’s philosophy, ‘All for one and one for all’. Teamwork is nice but it’s useless if no fruits are being born or progress amongst the individuals themselves.

A team is not only a group of people who work together, but people who can bring out the best in each other, and who can compete and climb to the top. People who have a certain self-importance, an ego the bespectacled man had emphasized.

When the first boy ran towards the opportunity to improve and make it to the top, the others followed behind. You ran forward because you wanted to see what this program is all about, and you wanted to use it for your benefit.

“You can’t become the world's best striker unless you become the world’s best egoist.” Ego Jinpaichi had said in his speech.

When the others would grit, grumble, and protest, your sweet smile which you had worn for years now had a meaning under it. Something fiery and hungry.

After the blue buses brought you to the facility, you were given a number along with a letter before being directed to the building you were assigned to. You had changed into the suit you were given before finding your room, which was a W. It took you a while, but you managed to find it, opening the door.

In it were other boys besides you, around 10 to 12. And they were infuriatingly taller than you as well. You felt a muscle twitch as you kept your smile, “Hello, how are you? I’m Kocho Shinobu, nice to meet you.”

The boys have taken your introduction well as one came up to you, with a smile. From there, it was easy to befriend the other guys in the room, which came to blow when Ego appeared on the screen and announced a game of tag; the loser would be kicked off of the program and never play for the National team ever.

From there, it was a war of desperation.

You mostly stood to the side, dodging when others would target you, which was often. You knew it was because they underestimated your short stature and weak-looking body, but it was easy to prove them wrong when you quickly dodged any strike aimed at you. And the few moments you were hit, you quickly kicked back at them. When the timer was up, one exited the room, bawling his eyes out.

You didn’t even know his name. 

Then Ego announced the First Selection, where your team will be facing off against four other teams in your building. Which builds up anticipation and distress at the prospect of losing and going home. For now, it was the Athletic tests.

You were confident in your speed and endurance, but weightlifting was something you were sure to suck at. 

You glanced at your rank as you wiped off the sweat from your forehead, ignoring the sounds of boys training. You’ll need to do better if you want to stay and make it to the national level.

The food that you ate was decent, but you couldn’t deny how appetizing the others were. Your eyes glanced at the other players who were participating in this program while you partake in conversation with your teammates. You noticed some peculiar ones such as a blonde with dyed ends that rise up aside from to locks at his front that go down. He has dark skin, not as dark as the people from the African continent but close.

Another one is a dark-haired boy with cyan eyes and underlashes, a loner type with a powerful aura.

Then there’s one with long hair and another one with a bulky build.

Sadly, they were taller than you by a lot. You internally grit at this, ‘I’m possibly the shortest one in this program, aren’t I?’

Your teammates were oblivious to your annoyance when you went back to conversing with them with a smile.

The first few matches were…uneventful. You weren’t sure if it was just because they were lower than you or what, but the first match was chaos and a mess. You could’ve just stayed at the side, but you had gotten fed up when your teammates refused to work together despite your insistence.

Which made you decide to do it yourself.

Kicking off from your place at the side, your feet ran past your teammates and the enemy before getting the ball from them. Everything was a blur for you as your eyes were dead-center at the goal, a sense of belonging and fire as you pulled your foot back before kicking the ball past the goalie and straight into the net.

And in that moment, you knew you started a chain reaction.

From there your teammates had found themselves the motivation to help you score, which in turn finally made you work with them like a team. You suppose this was what Ego meant by ‘Ground Zero’, by playing without roles there will be chaos and disorder until there will be a 'protagonist’ to shine the light and guide the way to victory.

Your smile became sharper at the idea.

The next match was kinda boring as there was no challenge, opting to stay at the side and let your teammates have their chance at scoring. The match after that was against the team with the boy with blonde wild hair pink ends, and dark skin. Now that you got a good look at him, you noticed how he has pink eyes and a sort of…unique would be putting it lightly but deranged would be too much…He had a very interesting smile.

The match started off and the ball was in possession of one of your teammates, which was stolen by the blonde. None of your teammates could stop him, ending him in scoring.

Your interest piqued, deciding to enter the game. In the second round, your teammate passed the ball to you, leading you to run like the wind. You avoided the opposing team members with ease, feet light and body airy like a butterfly. What surprised you was the blonde that caught up to you.

“You’re pretty fast, for a shorty.” he grinned.

You felt a muscle twitch in irritation as you smiled at him with closed eyes “Am I? Well then,”  When you opened them, you made sure to express every irritation and ire that you felt in what humans call ‘The Windows of the Soul’. “I do hope you can keep up.”

With a kick, you sped through the field with speed that for others broke the sound barrier. Your legs pumped with anger, the ball bracing against your swift yet aggressive kicks when in your control. Your vision narrowed at one thing: the goal. It was in sight, and you knew you had this one when you pulled your leg back and shot the ball into the net.

The whistle blew at your goal.

Satisfaction took the cake, as you smiled while your team yelled in euphoria at the scored point. Then a blonde slammed that satisfaction down when he threw his arm over your shoulder—even more so when he leaned over to accommodate your height and smiled at you like he was teasing!

“I like you, Butterfly-kun.” The blonde said. “The name’s Shidou Ryusei, can I get your number?”

Your eye twitched before you shrugged off his arm, “Ara, Shidou-san is quite friendly. But I say that you are quite bold to ask me for my number—

—When you haven’t scored yet.”

Shidou’s smile became wider, “Like to hide behind a smile, huh? Bet I can break it out of you.”

”I don’t know what you mean.” you replied before returning to your team.

After enduring tests, challenges, and obstacles, you found yourself being one of the few players left in Blue Lock. Sadly, Kunigami seemed to have been eliminated. And just as you were reacquainted with each other again. However, the boy with blue eyes seemed interesting enough.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Words: 1567

I had this in my google docs for a while now and just wanted to get this out there.

I also use the second person pov since it was easier to write.

[ikykwklk-ash]

"Like a K-Drama"

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem!reader

W/c: 3150

Synopsis: as you leave the library you bump into a guy who helps you up and buys you a coffee to apologize. maybe you're in love? or maybe you're just friends?

thanks @thomlugaro26 for reading the 300 betas

You are in the library, and you are taking notes on what you are studying in the notebook next to the book. In your headphones you are listening to quiet music, like Wave To Earth, Bibi and Suggi, you are not aware of people entering and leaving the place. You are in your own world. Lost in studying and relaxing. You discovered this library a few weeks ago, it is somewhat hidden among the big buildings of the city. The first time you saw it you didn't even think it was a library, it seemed to be more like a bookshop, so you went in thinking of buying some new book, but as soon as you were inside you were enveloped in a warm silence. An old woman at the counter smiles at you and whispers a lively good morning. You have simply decided to browse the shelves a bit, look at what books are there and whether it is a possible place for a future. So, this routine started. You go to university, attend your lectures, come home, eat and then go to this library hidden from the world and stay there until it closes. You usually take a break in the middle of the day to stretch your bones and have a cold American in the bar next to the building, then return to study.

And indeed, you have just got up to go for your usual walk, you are walking towards the exit with your headphones on connected and 'Underwater' by Elephant Gym playing in your ears, only something is wrong as planned and if one moment you were walking, the next you find yourself sitting on the floor without know how this could have happened.

You look up, blink slightly to focus your vision: in front of you there is a boy with the long blond hair, freckles scattered all over the face seem to glow under the sun's rays that through the large window of the building, he too fell to the ground from the heavy impact; he has glasses hanging slightly from the nose and with a quick movement pulls them up and simultaneously settles a few strands of hair that had slipped from his half-tail.

“Oh God I'm so sorry...” you open your eyes wide, amazed, at the deep tone of your voice, not expecting such a low tone from such a sweet face.

"D-don't worry! Are you OK? You've fallen too"

The blond smiles warmly and nods “Don't worry, I'm not hurt, I'm Felix anyway”.

"O-oh, it's Y/N, I really hope you're not hurt."

"Y/N don't worry, I'm not hurt! In fact, as an apology can I buy you a coffee at the café nearby?"

You think about it for a moment and then nod, pick up your things that were still on the floor and slip them into your canvas bag. You start walking towards the library exit as Felix smiles at you and then looks at the drawing on your bag: an open blue videotape on the left and three rectangles on the right, "Do you listen to Wave To Earth?" you ask with eyes wide open.

"Um... yes, do you know them?" you ask surprised.

"Of course! I just finished listening to the new album, they're great!"

Your smile widens even more as you nod "It's true, I don't know how to explain what I feel every time that I listen to them, by the way listening to their music helps me concentrate better and the new album is something of mysticism!"

"Oh my God, I absolutely agree. Besides, with the new album they really outdid themselves, I don't know how to explain to people how I feel every time I hear 'are you bored?' or even 'slow diva'. I love them."

While talking about the new album and which song you like best, you arrive at the bar and Felix holds the door open for your glass, you thank him with a nod of the head as you finish telling how you started listening to the Wave to Earth and sit down at a table.

"Um, so what are you having?" asks Felix as he looks at the menu.

"I think I'll have the iced American and um... a chocolate muffin, you?" you say after giving a quick read through the menu, even though by now you knew it by heart after all the times you had entered that pretty little café in pastel green and pink.

“I think I'll have a milkshake and a pistachio croissant”, he says, smiling sweetly. After a few minutes, the waiter arrives to ask for orders: "Hi guys, what can I get you?"

"Hi Jack, for me the usual and for Felix a milkshake and a pistachio cornetto. Are you in the room today?" he asks, smiling at the boy standing next to your table. He snorts in amusement and answers you affirmatively, then turns around and goes to deliver orders to the counter.

"Do you come here often?" asks Felix.

“Um yes, since I discovered the library, the café has become my second favourite place. I have started coming here so many times that at one point I made friends with everyone, even the owners”, you laugh as you look around, scanning every corner of the room.

While waiting for your orders, you start talking about more and less, beginning to discover little things about each other.

"FELIIIIIIIX" shouts, at one point, a voice from the other end of the room; the boy turns around and sees himself coming a colourful blur at full speed, jumping on his legs to embrace him.

"Jisungie!" Felix mirrors the newly arrived boy's happiness, while you smile slightly at that scene, then comes the realisation and you look at Felix with mild shock.

"Hello Lixie, hello Y/N-ie," said a calmer voice behind you, you turn around and see Minho looking at you with a slight smile and a beige apron with cats drawn on it.

"Oh? Do you know each other?" you ask Felix.

He nods and explains that Jisung is his roommate and best friend and together they are the ‘Sunshine Twins', and consequently knows Minho because he is Jisung's boyfriend and is now in their flat 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

You laugh at the situation you found yourself in, while Jisung and Minho take two chairs from the table next to each other and bring them closer to you by sitting down.

All four of you start chatting together while you and Felix sip the drinks you have ordered. You talk about more and less; you get to know Felix more and he begins to get to know you. It is a game of glances, of new words, of small gestures that make you think 'oh wow'. Minho and Jisung tell funny anecdotes about the blondie, and you laugh out loud. You begin to appreciate the company of the boy, observe how the rays of light shine on his face, how his freckles become light up every time one of those golden rays falls, gently, on them. Notice the lightness of his touch in everything he does, how he arranges unruly strands of hair behind his ears. How he listens carefully to what Jisung has to say, how he responds to Minho's stories...

The hours pass in that small pastel-coloured bar, they pass so quickly that you do not realise that it is now closing time, until Minho gets up and says: “I must close the bar now, I'm sorry. Felix can accompany you to your home, it's too late for you to go out alone Y/N”.

And you gladly accept Minho's proposal, because Felix smiles at you and makes you feel safe. You step outside the bar, breathing in the summer air of early September, the blond boy accompanies you through the narrow streets of the city until you get to your flat. Before leaving, however, Felix asks you for the phone number and you smile and give it to him. Then you say goodbye with a promise to see each other again one of these days.

You enter the house, your face aches from how much you are smiling, the mirror in the hallway reveals your red cheeks, maybe that's why you feel so hot.

Days pass, you and Felix start going out more often, your phone starts to have more notifications to read: your chat is full of messages, memes, tiktok links, funny tweets, instagram posts and sometimes even tumblr. You come to realise that l, indeed, feel strong feelings for the blond boy. Every time a message from him arrives, you find yourself smiling, blushing and giggling like a young girl struggling with her first love. You are always faced with the lost library, enter together after a brief greeting and look for the most hidden place inside, then sit down and start studying or reading new books. Take a break when one of you can no longer sit, get up and go to Minho and Jisung's bar, take your usual order and you chat amongst yourselves, sometimes the two owners of the bar join in your conversations. Then you return to the library to continue studying.

Today is no different, you have just come out of the library at the end of the day and Felix asks if he can accompany you to your home, you nod in affirmation and as you speak your shoulders begin to touch each other, hands brushing. Oh, you are so hopelessly in love with this blond boy that you have met by chance. By now you spend your days thinking about him, writing to him, drawing little hearts on papers scattered, on desks, wherever a pencil or pen might leave trails of graphite or ink.

Arriving at the door of your flat, Felix smiles at you with that smile made of sunshine, which makes one feel at home, protected. "He is beautiful," you think.

"T-thank you, you look beautiful too," says the blond, his cheeks dusted with a light red. You fucking said out loud. Then, slowly, you realise the compliment and blush. You lower your gaze in embarrassment while giving a shy smile.

Felix chuckles and comes closer, slowly wrapping you in an embrace, almost asking permission to touch you.

Stand there shifting your weight from one foot to the other, holding each other close. Enjoying the warmth that a hug can give. No matter what is going on around you, the important thing is that you are with him, that you are together. Him and his blond hair. Him and his freckles are made of starlight. Him and his smile warmth that makes you melt every time you see him. Him and his heat. Feel your legs of jelly when you are away from each other. You don't know if you can still stand, you feel you could fall at any moment to the other by how much your legs tremble with the love and affection you feel for him.

Eventually, you say goodbye, deciding to see each other again the next day, and when you see him coming down the stairs you lean against the wall with a sigh. A sigh and a smile on his face, his cheeks warm, his eyes shining for love.

You enter your flat, hang up your jacket and take off your shoes, throwing them randomly into the shoe rack. You sit down on the sofa of your small three-room apartment and look outside, enjoying the last lights of the day filtering through the window and thinking back to Felix and his arms around your body. You don't want to forget the feeling of light touch on your hips, you don't want to forget the warm breath tickling your neck, you don't want to forget the gentle rocking on your feet as you enjoy each other's presence. Hold those feelings for as long as possible, while you prepare your dinner, while you put on your pajamas and while you go to bed, write him a goodnight message and make sure he gets home safely, as you fall asleep.

The next day you wake up, think back to the hug and smile like you never did before. 'Fuck Y/N, it's just a hug, pull yourself together for God's sake' you think after a first moment. You sigh and get out of bed. You look at the alarm clock that says 7 a.m., get ready for university, have breakfast and then leave the house. Your phone vibrates for a notification

"Good morning Y/N ( ^_^ / ) "

"Good morning Lix ( ^ 3 ^ )"

You smile, you smile so much that an old woman looks at you strangely, but you don't care because She was probably the same when she received a letter from the person she was in love with.

You exchange messages until you enter the classroom, and the teacher starts the lesson. For all lessons all you do is think about the fact that you will see Felix again today, you are so distracted that you don't even realise that classes are over until one of your classmates asks you if you are okay. You smile and nod at him as you get up and run outside.

You meet at the entrance to the library, she smiles at you and the sun shines on her face and her blond hair, you meet and hold you in an embrace. After detaching yourself, you enter the library and sit down at your usual hidden place. You spend a couple of hours studying in that library, cast glances at each other and smile fleetingly in the silent space of books. When you decide to take a break, you get up and head for the bars of Minho and Jisung. As you walk Felix takes your hand and intertwines it with his, his palm is warm, it is comfortable. You arrive at the bar and go in, sit down and order the usual things.

The day progresses, you laugh together with the two bar owners, return to the library and study. When you see that it is starting to get dark outside, you get up and put your things away. Leaving the library Felix asks if he can drive you home and you gladly accept, walking in silence for most of time, occasionally chatting and smiling at each other.

"Y/N..."

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to you?"

You stop near a park and look at him, hesitantly nodding and smiling to go forward, Felix looks at you, takes a deep breath and mutters, blinks a couple of times.

"I did not understand"

Felix's cheeks dusted with red under the dim light of the streetlamps, he lowered his gaze shyly and whispered "I've liked you ever since we bumped into each other in the library..."

Your face starts to warm up and you look at Felix with your lips slightly open, your smile widens like this so much so that your face muscles ache, you approach the boy in front of you and slowly take his hand, he looks up at you and you whisper, “I like you too, ever since we started talking”. You stop for a moment and wait for the guy to realise your words, and when his eyes open wide, you continue "There was a precise moment when I realised I liked you. You were talking to Jisung, I don't know what about, and a ray came through the bar window and hit your perfect freckles, and your face lit up so much... for a moment I thought the Sun had come straight into the bar. The only thing I was thinking while you were talking to Jisung is that you were beautiful and that your freckles remind me of the constellations," you whisper softly, as if it were a secret that only the two of you could know. You whisper softly because, if you could, you would shout it to the whole world, you would shout how the boy's freckles are so beautiful, how much you love to see her warm smile and how her hugs make you feel good.

Felix looks at you with wide eyes and smiles at you so much that you are afraid he will get facial paralysis, you he comes even closer and with a delicate touch, as if he were holding a glass vase subtle, he takes your face, his gaze travelling from your eyes to your lips

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes"

The boy comes even closer to you and tilts his head slightly, his lips brush against yours, your noses touching each other lightly. Your eyes close when he kisses you. It is such a gentle kiss; it makes you feel loved and protected. His lips are warm against yours; they taste like strawberries thanks to the lip balm that Felix spreads every so often. His hands fall on your hips, and you encircle his neck with your arms, drawing him closer. When you pull away to catch your breath, Felix smiles and takes you by the hand, his eyes meet yours and his cheeks turn red, highlighting her freckles.

"Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

"Yes"

He kisses you again and again, then takes you by the hand and you walk towards Jisung and Minho's bar.

When you enter, Minho is at the counter preparing a customer's order, while Jisung is serving at a table. Minho briefly looks up when he hears the bell ring, his eyes are pointed at your hands entwined together and a smile breaks out on his face. He makes a movement with his head to a vacant table a little apart from the others. You sit and wait for your usual orders to arrive.

Don't wait long really, Jisung arrived with the smoothie for Felix and your coffee, placed them on the table and sat in the chair opposite yours, Minho arrived shortly afterwards and continued to observe. Jisung took a deep breath and smiled at you. He did not ask any questions, just looked at you and waited. Felix laughed slightly and began to recount everything that had happened in the park, you smiled and nodded, occasionally adding some details. The day ends like this, Felix accompanies you to your flat, you say goodbye, you kiss, and you decide to go out the next day as a date. When you go in you take off your shoes and put them in the usual place, you smile all the time as you get ready for bed, memories hovering before your eyes, the taste of his lips that you can still taste on yours, the warmth of his hands on your hips that still hovers around you. Smile even when you lie in bed and close your eyes.

[azurbright]

So this is my Grumbo, creative writing assignment for my course. My teacher liked it, and I got many compliments from my peers. It's based on another Grumbo short story I made for this class. Generally, though, you should be able to gather what's going on.

I only had 200-300 words per entry, with a 5 entry maximum, so that's why they're so short. For everyone who said they wanted to see it.

@oso-bigback64 @raylaismad @not-a-boot @crispycheeto364 @a-sociopath-do-your-research @endaisgayandtrans @auseryoumayknow @ghost-er-toast-er

Blog entry number 1: Day one

Many months ago I began my search for the key to immortality. Although I have yet to find it, I am sure that I am going to get there soon. Nobody has done what I have been able to do, technological advances have not come as far as this yet. Today, a boy fell from the sky, he claims his name is Grian, he has yet to indulge me in where he has come from but I will inform once I become aware. As of now I have brought him back to my lab and we’ve begun testing. He doesn’t seem to feel any pain at all once so ever. He claims not to be immortal but something does seem off. Only time will tell. We got along easy, I don’t mind having the company around, he's a bit of a pessimist but I can make it work. Later today I plan on taking him out to town, he says he hasn’t had a meal in days which simply just can’t be good for him. Now, however, I am in my office whilst he naps on my couch, writing this entry here. The testing went well, his blood and hair samples are currently in the lab, I am awaiting results. What I do know now though is he seems to be sprouting these sort of purple feathers along his back. When I asked him about them he didn't know. Will do more research on those.

Blog entry number 2: Day fourteen

Today, I have a lot to say. I have made a technological breakthrough. The feathers were the answer, the stem of these feathers that come from him hold a sort of liquid, the chemical compound is something that I have never seen before. It's simply extraordinary. Grian has opened up to me more, he's talked about the sort of tortures the Watchers put him through. When I asked him what a Watchet was he also wasn’t quite sure. They claim to be gods, but he believes that they are something so much worse. I have tried to find books and papers about them but they seem to be mostly mythological creatures that random people have written about. Grian looked over the books with me but he doesn’t think most of the information is correct. I've claimed him as my patient, and I believe he has claimed me as a sort of patient as well. He refuses to sleep unless I do. I believe it's just the kindness he carries with him, he's less pessimistic than I had originally gathered but he had just fallen from the sky after being held captive for an unknown amount of time. All that being said, he continues to stay in the lab seeing as he doesnt have any family, or doesn’t remember. He doesn’t even necessarily think he's from this world. Which, opens up the idea of multiple dimensions, exciting stuff for a man like me really. Once again I will report back soon with more information.

Blog entry number 3: Day thirty

Something strange has started to happen, perhaps it's due to the stress but Grian seems to be strangely concerned about it. The fronts of my hair have begun to grey out, nothing too serious, I feel perfectly fine. It's probably because I’ve been working too hard. On another note, I think I’ve figured it out. Grians DNA from the feathers mixed with the chemical compounds of CH4 and CHN2OPS, must be injected through the skin directly into the vein. I believe it is possible I have found it. A test subject is all I really need, I’ve sent Grian out to find and catch rats to test on. He's found one, and it hasn’t died yet. Thinking about it now, I don’t know why I made immortal rats. Ignoring work, Grian and I have been getting closer, I think we must be connected somehow. For someone like me, a scientist that is, it is surprising for many to hear that I believe in a predetermined destiny, and that destiny has brought Grian to me for quite a few reasons I don’t think I’m ready to disclose yet. Not to him, or whoever is reading this blog here. Besides, I need to do more research and distractions aren’t necessary.

Blog entry number 4: Day sixty

I’m starting to fear that the greying isn’t normal. It has spread from the beginnings of my hair to the very roots and all over. I feel older somehow, my bones feel lighter? Grian says he does not truly believe I am okay and has begged me many times to stop my work. But how can I stop now? When I have already come this far? I know the immortality shot works and I can just give it to myself, the first human test subject. He says he's worried about me, about what will happen. He claims that the Watchers are punishing him, through me. Although, I’m not sure why they would do that because I haven’t even known him for long but maybe it ties back into the whole fate thing. I am a little bit worried about how this is all affecting Grian, especially because he hasn’t been talking much, I’m sure he's just feeling a bit under the weather. Right? Today though, I think something happened between us. I'm not an experienced person but there was a moment where everything felt okay, we were just sitting together, me on my stool, and him in his small chair in the corner. He's found a way underneath my skin. I’d be lying if I said I want him to leave. I have thoroughly enjoyed his company more than I’ve ever enjoyed someone else's company. I'd usually consider myself a loner but I don’t want to be alone again. I think he feels similarly, I think that's why he's so worried about the greying. I don’t know.

Blog entry number 5: Day eighty-seven

I was supposed to die today. I should’ve listened to him, I really should have. Science isn't meant to mess with the laws of nature. People die and I've passed my prime in a short time. As of a few minutes ago my body was roughly around the age of seventy-five or so. Grian is gone now, he traded his life for mine. I can’t even thank him. He came here just to bid me goodbye, and through the crack in the door I caught sight of the Watcher, it was beautiful in a sick kind of way. I'm young again, I’ll die one day but not now. For the rest of my life I’ll be mourning somebody who fell out of the sky, and anybody could hardly believe me. All I can keep thinking is about how I shouldn’t have done this, I was so insistent, and wrong, and right at the same time. I did figure it out but the cost was what mattered. I’m back to being alone, I caught a glimpse of my appearance in the mirror. My hair is back to dark, it doesn’t feel real. Even running my fingers through the thick hairs on my head. I’m stressed, I want to forget this all. Every last second.

[theriverbeyond]

Just finished ch 23 in my Nona reread and i think Ianthe dismissing Blood Of Eden as "terrorists" is especially jarring because of the evolution of how BOE is presented in the text

like first in GtN, Gideon never mentions who or what she could be fighting if she had succeeded in her dreams of joining the Cohort. she wants to be part of the "invasion force on whatever", and her fantasies of violence are exclusively oriented around perceived personal freedom and making Harrow feel bad

And then in HtN, Blood of Eden is finally named as the Empire's enemy, but they're very specifically never called "terrorists". they're "insurgents" per both John and Judith, which not only has a wholly different definition (revolutionaries!) it's also an interesting intentional choice on the part of the *writing*. It would make in-universe character sense for Cohort Captain Judith Deuteros to call BOE "terrorists" in the personal notes she takes while prisoner, and it would make in-universe character sense for Emperor John Gaius to call them "terrorists" when he is explaining to Harrow that they are The Enemy. and i feel like it is narratively important that Blood of Eden is very intentionally *not* presented to us the readers with the kind of aggressive dehumanization/dismissal connotation combination that the word terrorist has.

and then like, obviously, the first BOE character we meet is a hot MILF with a gun. and sure she's trying to kill God, but Augustine and Mercymorn also try to kill God like 3 pages after we (properly) meet Wake so it's not like killing God is presented as a negative thing.

So going into NtN, I feel like the general impression of BOE is revolutionaries who hate the Empire and hot ladies with guns. which as far as impressions go is like, pretty positive, and that impression is only emphasized in the first 300 or so pages of the book. You have more hot women, you have more hot women with guns. There are factions of BOE that hate Our Protagonists more than the ones we meet, and there's infighting and hostages and burning suspected-necros in the park, but the BOE members we meet are explicitly sympathetic to the characters that we the audience care about, so the "scarier" parts of BOE are in many ways de-emphasized to the reader. We're *also* given an up-close-and-personal view of how bad it is for the people living under the Nine Houses' rule/resettlement via Hot Sauce and the gang, which further solidifies BOE as *at least* bordering on (if not outright!) "someone to root for", even for resistant readers.

and then Ianthe shows up and calls them terrorists and it feels a bit like a slap to the face. It serves to emphasize and perhaps consolidate what has been building for the series, which is essencially that the protagonists of the previous books are on the wrong side. Necromancy is on the wrong side. the Empire is doing bad fucking things and they are calling the revolutionaries who resist them "terrorists" as a way to delegitamize their resistance and dissuade support, something that no longer works on the *reader* because of the way Tamsyn Muir has hansel-and-gretled the fuck out of that story arc. send post.

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Phantom Pain ଓ♱˚⋆

When I wrote the first fic of my Yandere Church AU, I never expected it to expand into a whole series. Now it’s time for Cartaphilus! Dainsleif x Yandere! Demon! Reader………and yes, Dain is the darling in this fic ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ

I hope y’all enjoy their twisted story and the cameos to my previous fics!! Special thanks to my beta-reader @diodellet, @brynn-lear who helped me with Dain’s characterization, and all of my mutuals who listened to my brainrot~

Tw:: YANDERE, psychological trauma, blood, graphic violence, death, stalking, dubcon, noncon, mention of nsfw, MDNI, please take note of all of these warnings

Notes:: Female reader, FICTIONAL depictions of religion, inspired by Cartaphilus from The Ancient Magus’ Bride, I’m sorry Dain (*´꒳`*)

♡ 7.3k words under the cut ♡

♡ Among God’s creations, His favorite is granted a special fate. Though all lives end in death, only humanity is blessed with salvation and afterlife. Those who live righteously may thus ascend to Heaven, whereas sinners are condemned to eternal suffering in Hell. There is, however, one exception—a fragment of humanity whose sins may never be forgiven.

♡ Legends speak of Khaenri’ah, the nation of sinners. Once the pride of humankind, its citizens challenged God through their creations in alchemy and technology—and the entire nation was subsequently destroyed in a sea of flames. In the wake of the Cataclysm, pollen from the Tree of Life rained down upon the survivors, afflicting them with their final punishment, immortality.

♡ Since then, Khaenri’ahns have roamed the mortal plane in a perpetual state of living. Denied a place in Heaven and Hell, they are cursed to live forever no matter what harm befalls their body and psyche. Due to their wicked reputation, they must also live in fear of their once-fellow humans, lest they face persecution. For this reason, eternity differs among Khaenri’ahns.

♡ After the Cataclysm, the survivors scattered across Teyvat. Many established secret communities to preserve their culture and find solace in companionship. Others settled in foreign nations, periodically assuming new identities to evade suspicion. And a few became travelers, moving from place to place with no home to call their own.

♡ One such traveler is Dainsleif. After failing to prevent the destruction of his nation, he began an endless journey around Teyvat. His initial goal was to protect his fellow survivors and seek a cure for their curse. But as Khaenri’ah faded from memory, so did its people. Many succumbed to pain, madness, violence—and despite his best efforts, Dainsleif was unable to save any of them. In the perpetual meantime of a cruel eternity, all he could do was travel onwards, clinging to a thread of hope.

♡ That all changes when he wanders into the ruins of an ancient temple, 300 years after the Cataclysm. Had he known it was a place of worship, Dainsleif would have camped outside. But the structure is abandoned, inconspicuous, a perfect shelter against the ongoing storm. So he goes inside, lighting the way with his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. And only when he meets you does he realize he’d set foot in unholy ground.

♡ A pattern glows on the floor—a summoning circle he’d unknowingly stepped into, concealed with splatters of dried blood. From it, a winged figure emerges in a burst of light and slams him against the cracked tiles. Dizzily, he registers a strong hand pressing down on his neck, an aura of overwhelming divinity, a brilliant glare that strikes fear into his very soul.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“Ah, let’s see. Just when I thought this place had succumbed to the elements, who has the insolence to summon me?”

In your divine presence, Dainsleif can only look up and take in your inhuman features. Sharp talons. Four wings with silvery black-and-gray feathers, resembling an eagle’s plumage. A single horn jutting from the left side of your head. Eyes as bright as miniature suns.

A demon. How in the world did he summon a demon?

He glances at the sigil etched on the floor. From what he knows of these rituals, they are only successful if specific instructions are followed and the demon’s true name is uttered. Was it because he used Khaenri’ahn sorcery within the summoning circle?

He meets your gaze. “I never intended—”

Your eyes widen. “Oh?”

Still gripping his neck, you lift him up and brush the loose strands of hair away from his face. The action uncovers his eyes, bright blue with pupils shaped like four-pointed stars.

“A Khaenri’ahn?”

At this point, Dainsleif doesn’t know what to do. He struggles in your grasp, only to stop when your talons dig into his skin. Your gaze remains locked onto his.

Slowly, your lips curve into a fanged smile.

“And such a pretty one at that.”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ Somehow, Dainsleif’s curse has saved him from your wrath. Still, he remains vigilant as you put him down and demand to hear his life story—why, when you have already glimpsed his soul? Reluctantly, he tells you everything from his previous life to the circumstances that brought him to your temple. Once he is finished, you allow him to stay in your temple until the storm ends.

♡ As you move, he notices a trio of jagged scars on your body—one on each shoulder, another one between your first pair of wings. He makes no mention of it, however, and instead asks for your identity. In response to that, you give him an enigmatic smile, whisper your true name, and promptly disappear. The only proof of your encounter is the dark bruise around Dainsleif’s neck.

♡ He doesn’t sleep well. At the crack of dawn, he gets up and does a quick exploration of the temple ruins. From the looks of it, it could be thousands of years old. There are sculpted images of suns, beasts, and paradises. The bloodstained floor implies a violent end for the previous intruders—or was it from your official summoning rituals? At any rate, one thing is clear: You are a powerful demon, one who was previously worshiped as a false god.

♡ He leaves after sunrise, relieved to have survived the ordeal…only for your paths to cross a few days later. And the week after that. Again and again. Most of the time, you appear out of nowhere, invisible to everyone except for Dainsleif. Other times, your presence manifests in a stray feather, inhuman shadows, the persistent feeling that he is being watched.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“Oh, hello, Dain. Did you enjoy your drink?”

“...What have you done?”

In the dark alley, your bloody visage is a terrifying sight. A human is passed out at your feet, their arm covered in deep scratches and blackened veins.

Dainsleif takes a step back. That person…isn’t that the drunkard who tried to start a fight with him at the tavern?

A sinister smile appears on your face. “Don’t worry, I just cast a little curse on them.”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ He doesn’t know what to make of his situation. In Khaenri’ah, demons were perceived as wicked creatures that lead humanity down the path of sin. You have yet to harm him, unless your plan is to lull him into a false sense of security first. It would certainly explain your frequent visits, your honeyed words, your cheerful demeanor around him.

♡ During your encounters, he asks you questions. As it turns out, it is difficult to find information on you. Humans usually refer to a specific demon by their title, so your true name is only useful when he is addressing you. You don’t reveal much about yourself, apart from the fact that your current role in Hell is torturing the souls of deceased sinners.

♡ The answer is found in the Sumeru Akademiya. The House of Daena has a forbidden archive that includes grimoires, research on spiritual beings, as well as related literature. It doesn’t take long for him to find the hidden room. As he examines the bookshelves, he notices a few written records of Khaenri’ah, all of which depict his people in a negative light.

♡ He begins with a book about the celestial hierarchy. According to the writer, there are nine ranks of angels and only the Second Order, the Cherubim, have two pairs of eagle wings. They also have four heads—human, lion, ox, eagle…and in the accompanying illustration, the animal heads are located in the exact same place as your scars.

♡ Next is the grimoire of Il Dottore. He flips through the section dedicated to demons, skimming the notes and sigils. There is the Puppeteer, the Fair Lady, the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge whom Dottore formed a pact with, and so on. Finally, he comes across a familiar sigil.

The Beheaded Cherub

-True name: ______

-Created in the ███ Era, fell from grace in the ██████ Era

-Basic status: 1 head (human), 1 set of fangs (lion), 1 horn (ox), 2 pairs of wings and 10 talons (harpy eagle)

-One of the most powerful demons in Hell by virtue of her previous rank and her prominence in human cognizance. She was once venerated as a false god by the Temple of Light.

-Prior to her descent, she was called “the Beast of Beatitude.” █████ says her divine punishment was the loss of her animal heads and the development of her beastly traits.

-A unique specimen. It is a pity that I could not obtain a sample of her. If we meet again, more insight can be gained into the mental faculties of a fallen Cherub.

♡ The next page has an illustration drawn from memory. It’s you. An ornate choker protects your neck, and your expression is one of wrath. There is also a report of Dottore’s encounter with you: He’d trapped the Puppeteer via exorcism and obtained one of his wings. Before he could do worse, you suddenly appeared and rescued Scaramouche. Dottore theorized that you left without attacking him because you saw the Cherub’s skeleton in his laboratory.

♡ That book leads Dainsleif down a rabbit hole of texts. Historical records of the Temple of Light. Literary depictions of “the Beheaded Cherub.” The sketchbook of an artist whose muses were demons. Reports of mysterious curses that manifested in pain and disfigurement. All of those sources point to you.

♡ Well, one thing is clear: He is doomed. It’s bad enough that he is dealing with a spiritual being, what more a powerful one. It is at this moment that he senses your presence behind him.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“Hello, Dain. I see you’ve figured out who I am.”

This time, he doesn’t look at you. “You never told me of your appetite for humans. Just how many were sacrificed for the Temple of Light’s offerings?”

Silence. Dainsleif continues to face the desk, closing the book in his hands.

Finally, you answer him. “That was not my command. The Temple of Light was founded by one of my earliest humans. Most of their beliefs and rituals were his own ideas, believe it or not.”

“And where is he now? Is he one of those sinners that you are so fond of torturing?”

He can imagine the sight behind him: You, in all of your demonic glory, casting large shadows against the walls. It is easy to reconcile your image with your sinister depictions.

“No,” you reply. “Once a human dies, all of their pacts are broken. As such, I have no reason to maintain ties with my former humans, especially the one who gave me such a wretched title. I let my coworkers handle their punishments.”

“And do you intend to make a deal with me as well?”

It is the only rational explanation he can think of.

“Wrong again. As a matter of fact, demons cannot form pacts with Khaenri’ahns, hence our indifference to your kind. What use is there for a soul that will never enter Hell?”

Dainsleif glances at the Lesser Key of Deshret. According to that source, most humans sought you out for the purpose of cursing their enemies.

He turns around. “Let me ask you this. Why are you following me?”

In the candlelight, your gaze has never looked more intense. “Is it not enough to say that I am mesmerized by you?”

The look he gives you is one of pure doubt.

You stand in front of him, touching his half-mask.

“I saw it all, Dainsleif,” you tell him, “when I looked into your soul. Your righteousness as the Twilight Sword, your perseverance after the Cataclysm, the hope you’ve clung to for all these centuries…I find it all so fascinating.”

He pulls away, glaring. “Is that all? A mere sense of curiosity?”

You smile at him. “Well, there is also your beauty. When I look at you, I can almost understand why humanity is the only creation which God deemed perfect.”

“Your flattery is as banal as it is unwarranted,” he scoffs. Stepping aside, he tidies up the desk and returns the books to their shelves. “I have never received the favor of God in the past. I don't see any reason I would need yours now or in the future, either.”

That is when you burst into laughter.

“Are you sure about that? Believe me, Dain, I have a lot to offer.”

As you push him against the wall, your expression becomes deathly serious.

“Two centuries ago,” you whisper, “a Khaenri’ahn was burned at the stake in Fontaine. She survived, of course, but was left with scars that will never heal. Another one encountered the wrong group of heretics and, to this day, his body is being used for their rituals.”

“I…” Dread pools up in his stomach. Does he know those individuals?

“And just last year, I heard the Church of Snezhnaya discovered a community of Khaenri’ahns and buried everyone alive. They’re all trapped underground, barely conscious. But even if they are freed, I doubt their bodies could still function after being deprived of nutrients for so long.”

Snezhnaya…are you talking about the one led by Pierro?

“Oh, and how could I forget?” You lean closer, your eyes reflecting Dainsleif’s agonized face. “Long before the Cataclysm, the Tree of Life disappeared from the human realm. Nobody, not even the angels, knows if it still exists. What more for the Khaenri’ahns who dedicated their eternity to searching for it?”

No.

If the Tree of Life is gone…

Does that mean there is truly no way to break the curse?

At this point, Dainsleif is trembling. “______, please tell me you are—mph!”

There is nothing gentle about your kiss. The back of his head hits the wall, and his mask falls to the floor. When he tries to resist, you capture his wrists in an iron grip.

It’s too much. Panicking, he resorts to his Khaenri’ahn sorcery but the galaxy-like aura is easily extinguished by your radiant light. You spread your wings, caging him in silvery feathers. Sharp fangs graze his bottom lip. He can’t do anything. He has to call for help—

Footsteps echo outside the room.

Just as quickly as the idea comes to mind, Dainsleif falls silent. What is he thinking? What if the scholar sees his cursed marks and realizes he is a Khaenri’ahn?

He stays still, praying the door remains locked. When the footsteps recede, he slumps against the wall.

His relief isn’t lost on you. Pulling away, you trace the blue veins and black marks on his face. A sinful smile plays on your lips.

“Do you understand, darling? No one, not even God, will save you.”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ After that revelation, Dainsleif continues to wander Teyvat. But he does so aimlessly, in your company. There are attempts to ward you off—religious objects, carefully-worded negotiations, a few hours spent inside a church—but all end in your amused reactions. It becomes routine for you to meet him every few days, providing Mora for his expenses and information on the places he visits.

♡ Your threats are no laughing matter. Thankfully, your violence never exceeds the severity of your first meeting. A strong grip on his hand. Talons playfully tracing his cursed marks. There is that time you swooped in, picked him up, and threatened to drop him off a cliff for trying to hide from you…then you later brushed it off as an empty threat.

♡ You’re also very affectionate, if such a word can be used to describe a demon. At one point, you begin leaving gifts for him—a new cloak, bejeweled hairpins, gems in the same shade of blue as his eyes. He tries to decline your gifts on the basis of practicality but you’re difficult to persuade. Moreover, he keeps finding your stray feathers on his clothes.

♡ Then there is the matter of your physical intimacy. By now, Dainsleif is used to your kisses and cuddles. The worst part is when your hands wander, when you defile his body after sundown, when his resistance crumbles into moans and tears. Those nights always end in his skin tainted with love bites, teeth marks, light scratches. Thankfully, you are unable to brand him with your sigil though that doesn’t stop you from longingly biting the back of his neck.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“______, that’s enough.”

“Hmm?” You press another kiss to his shoulder. “What did you say?”

He gives you a tired look. “I need to sleep.”

Just how unending is a demon’s stamina? It’s past midnight, and he doubts he will be able to leave the bed later. Perhaps he can ask the innkeeper for an extension.

“All right.” You pull the blankets over the two of you. Then you wrap your arms around him, keeping him close. “I’ll give you enough Mora for a week’s stay.”

He lies on his side, staring at the wall. “You don’t have to.”

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep. In a few minutes, your grip loosens and all Dainsleif can hear is his own breathing. Carefully, he turns over to face you.

…He never knows how to deal with you after your depravity has been exhausted. You’re always gentle as you clean him up and cuddle him in bed. When you sleep, you are no different from a corpse. No sounds, no movements, a neutral expression on your face.

Sighing, he shifts to a more comfortable position and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up, you are gone. Your side of the bed is still warm.

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ A few years later, you decide to accompany Dainsleif in a different form. It all starts when he meets a fellow traveler in Mondstadt. They’d camped in the same forest and it was hard to ignore them, especially when they asked for his help. In the end, Dainsleif relented and they explored the forest together. He thought it would be safe since you never visit him on Sundays.

♡ He leaves the forest the next morning, after agreeing to lunch at a nearby tavern. But when he arrives, he finds his acquaintance being restrained and dragged into a medical vehicle. They are absolutely feral, but most alarming are the wounds on their face. Before they pass out, Dainsleif makes eye contact with them and notices an indigo glint in their eyes.

♡ A waiter fills him in on what happened: His acquaintance suddenly went mad, made a mess in the tavern, and ran straight into a mirror. When Dainsleif visits them at the clinic, they are visibly disoriented, claiming they didn’t know what came over them. They are escorted home a few days later, their face covered in scars, and Dainsleif never sees them again.

♡ The next day, he is strolling around Mondstadt City when a familiar pair of arms wraps around him. He muffles a gasp and turns around to give you a subtle glare—have you forgotten that he is in public?—only to stop when he sees you. Your demonic features are gone, and you are wearing traveler’s attire. Moreover, the surrounding humans can also see you.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“So, darling, do you like my human guise?”

The smile hasn’t left your face. It’s natural, considering the fact that Dainsleif is the one holding your hand and leading you to a secluded spot.

He lets go of you. “What are you planning now?”

You frown, placing the same hand over your chest. “I just wanted to spend more time with you. It’s no fun when you ignore me in the presence of humans.”

“______.” Your name leaves his lips in an exasperated voice. “How can I be sure that you won’t draw more attention to me?”

“Hey, have more faith in me,” you pout. In this form, you look significantly less imposing. “I’ve used this guise many times in the past. And isn’t it easier for you to interact with me this way, rather than pretend I’m not right in front of you?”

It’s not like any amount of persuasion would work on you.

He sighs. “Well, that’s as good a reason as any. Follow me, then.”

With that, the two of you return to the Market District. Dainsleif orders two chicken-mushroom skewers, not missing the way your eyes sparkle when he asks you if you want anything else.

A few feet away, a Mondstadter casts a flirtatious glance at him. But before they can approach him, you wrap your arm around his waist and scare them off with a fervent glare.

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ Your human guise brings about more changes in Dainsleif’s journey, from couple promos to less strangers bothering him. At times, you break away from him to pet wild animals or purchase items for yourself. In those moments, he can’t help but watch you from a distance. Your face is capable of many expressions, he observes, some of which are actually quite nice to look at.

♡ You also continue to share valuable information with him. Once, Dainsleif picks up a book entitled Molten Moment. In the foreword, the author claimed that it was based on the life of a demon they’d formed a pact with. Not only did you confirm the truth to their story, you also stop at a certain chapter. In it, the protagonist spoke to a Power whose true name was of Khaenri’ahn origin.

♡ That is how Dainsleif learns there are angels who look like Khaenri’ahns. They have the same starry eyes and facial features as his people, though God stopped creating them a long time ago. Many of them became demons for opposing the Cataclysm out of personal attachment to Khaenri’ah. And those who remained as angels rarely use their human guise in the present.

♡ And when Dainsleif asks about the Power featured in the book, you give him a sad smile. Then you say something about a fight you lost, sparring sessions, and regular conversations. In the present, however, your encounters with Il Capitano are only a painful reminder that you are “no longer at full strength.”

♡ You also explain that unlike angels, demons typically aren’t close with one another. Though you do mention a pair of younger demons that you took in after their descent. There is a soft look in your eyes every time you talk about Scaramouche and Pantalone, and you like to buy souvenirs for them. In times like this, Dainsleif is reminded of the family he lost, the home he can never return to.

˖⋆‧˚✦

Bright. It’s too bright.

Dainsleif looks up. The sky is crimson, reflecting the sea of flames consuming his homeland.

Beneath him, the ground shatters into fragments. Screams of terror echo in the distance. All around him, he is greeted with chaos and destruction.

Where is Halfdan? What happened to the Royal Guards? How many more people are going to meet their end?

Suddenly, a ray of light shines upon his nation, so bright that it hurts his eyes. What are those particles raining down from the sky?

It burns.

He falls to his knees, coughing. Something is wrong. His body…he raises his right hand and watches in horror as the skin becomes corrupted.

Amidst his pain, all he can think of are the people he failed to protect.

-

“Dain? Dain, wake up!”

The holy light disappears.

Blearily, Dainsleif opens his eyes to darkness. A hand is on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

“What…?”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Your face comes into view. Gently, you pull him into a sitting position and rub soothing circles on his back. “It was just a dream.”

Another nightmare.

He glances at the window. The night sky is cloudy.

“Take deep breaths,” you continue. Your eyes, shining with a soft radiance, are the only source of light in the room. The tip of your wing brushes against his cheek—was he crying in his sleep?

For once, Dainsleif doesn’t back away from your touch. He leans against you, trying to steady himself, his gaze still fixed on the starless sky.

Hesitantly, you ask, “It was about the Cataclysm, wasn’t it? Do you want to talk about it?”

“...There is no need,” he mumbles. “My dreams are a rarity. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

He draws back, taking note of your worried expression. “Did I startle you?”

“Ah, not really,” you reply. Strands of hair are tangled around your horn, and you comb them out with your fingers. “....Though if I’m going to be honest, a part of me was curious.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your wings twitch. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just…I’ve always wondered what a nightmare feels like, since I am incapable of dreaming.”

“I see…is that a common trait amongst demons?”

You shake your head. “No. In fact, it’s one of the first abilities a demon gains after their descent. But in the millennia since I’ve been cast out of Heaven, I haven’t had a single dream.”

His gaze drifts to your scars. “Does it have something to do with your divine punishment?”

As soon as you look away, he realizes it was a correct guess.

“Say, darling,” you mutter. “Can you stand the sight of your cursed marks?”

He looks at his right hand. “At one point, I stopped dwelling on it.”

“Well, at least those marks are easy to cover up.”

This time, Dainsleif is the one staring at you.

This isn’t his first time seeing cracks in your demeanor. He has noticed many over the years, from the occasional headache to your wistful gaze directed at eagles flying overhead. Once, you suddenly flinched and touched one of your scars, only to brush it off when he asked about it.

Even if you take pride in your demonic visage, it doesn’t erase the scars of your past.

“Do you believe your god to have punished you fairly?”

You meet his gaze, frowning. “What did you say?”

“Forgive me for being direct,” he tells you. “You do not pry into my secrets, so I never pried into yours…but if you would like to tell me, I will listen.”

For a few seconds, you just stare back at him. Are you glimpsing his soul again? From his end, all he can see is your gaze turning dim.

“My answer is no.”

Your expression turns bitter. Dainsleif lets you elaborate.

“When I was an angel,” you whisper, “I used all four of my heads. Seeing the world from every angle, speaking in different sounds, expressing multiple emotions at once…those abilities are what set the Cherubim apart from the rest of God’s creations.”

Your jewelry glitters on the nightstand. Earlier today, you’d worn an esclavage necklace with three cameo pendants. Each pendant bears the image of an animal—a lion, an ox, an eagle.

“So you can imagine how difficult it was to lose them,” you continue. You grip your upper arms, talons digging into your skin. “My beastly heads, all reduced to dust before my remaining eyes. And even then, our creator did not spare what was left of my body.”

A mirror hangs on the wall. It perfectly reflects Dainsleif’s cursed marks and your sorrowful countenance.

“This face was perfectly human until I grew fangs. My talons will always be in my line of sight. And don’t even get me started on the differences between halos and horns. It’s not…!”

Your voice cracks. At the same time, Dainsleif scoots closer to you.

In the dark, your expression looks tired. Resigned.

“So who cares if I looked down on humanity?” you mumble. “Why couldn’t I be forgiven? By now, I’ve lived over half of my life as a demon and yet…it still hurts.”

That ends your confession. You stare at your lap, wings lowered.

What is he supposed to say in this scenario?

From the beginning, Dainsleif knew it would be meaningless to believe in baseless depictions of demons. Still, it’s perplexing to see this side of you, to feel sympathy for the present source of his vexation and anxiety.

Yet in this moment, he finds himself reaching out to you. He copies your soothing gesture from earlier, placing his hand on the area between your wings.

You allow it, resting your head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, you break the silence.

“You know, darling, I’ve always wondered…why do you remain unchanged? Why do you still choose to live righteously when you will never be rewarded with a place in Heaven?”

He looks you in the eye. “That was never my goal. All I’ve ever dreamed of was peace. So even if there is no more hope for me…there must be for my fellow humans.”

At that, you hold his cursed hand and give him a pitying look.

“But darling…at this point, can you even call yourself human?”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ Decades pass. Dainsleif continues to wander Teyvat, with you as his sole companion. By now, he has long grown tolerant of your presence…and he has even begun to crave it on the days when you are busy in Hell. But he keeps it a secret, along with the sparks of attraction that he is beginning to feel towards you. Instead, he chalks it up to loneliness. That must be it.

♡ Despite that, his affection reveals itself in subtle gestures. Mint brew for your headaches. Practical gifts such as gloves and weapons. Once, the two of you were exploring Dragonspine when he noticed that your scarf had loosened. He adjusted it for you, careful not to touch your scars; and after your initial shock, you stared ahead and quietly thanked him.

♡ These days, he can’t find any Khaenri’ahns apart from a few descendants. In those cases, he has a short conversation with them then leaves without divulging their ancestry. It’s enough to know that those individuals are spared from the curse and able to live ordinary lives, though he wonders if their ancestors are doing well. He can’t make any new friends, either, due to your possessive nature though he does get acquainted with your “family.”

♡ One day, he wanders Liyue on his own and encounters a bespectacled local. He introduces himself as “the Regrator” and commissions Dainsleif to collect Noctilucous Jade for him. With nothing else to do, Dainsleif accepts the job but is later paid a much higher price than the 500 Mora he’d charged. But when he objects, the Regrator gives him a saccharine smile and tells him that he is “merely showing generosity towards his Jiejie’s pet.” Then he disappears.

♡ A year after that encounter, you attend the concert of a Snezhnayan singer. The Balladeer has an emotional voice, but Dainsleif is distracted by a familiar glint in their eyes. After the performance, you bring him to the dressing room. The Balladeer is slumped over a chair, their eyes branded with a sigil, and an indigo-eyed demon looms over them. As you congratulate Scaramouche on “another excellent possession,” Dainsleif dreadfully recalls the traveler he met in Mondstadt.

♡ He confronts you about it in your hotel room. A part of him did suspect your involvement in his acquaintance’s disfigurement, but it’s different when you are guiltlessly confirming it. After a fiery argument, Dainsleif goes to sleep and coldly ignores you for the remainder of his stay in Snezhnaya. It was foolish of him to forget about your sinister nature.

♡ Not long after, he realizes that he hasn’t seen you in days. That is odd—usually, you inform him in advance if you have to stay in Hell for an extended period. Or did his outrage finally have its desired effect on you? He continues his journey, nonetheless, but it feels…different. Since meeting you, he had the assurance that his solitariness is only short-lived, that you’d always come back to bother him. But now? He isn’t so sure.

♡ He stops finding molted feathers on his clothes. When he looks in the mirror, he notices that your love bites have all but faded completely from his body. At the sight of his cursed marks, he recalls the nights you’d spend lovingly tracing the corrupted skin. You once told him that the luminous veins compliment his blue eyes, and his response had been a withering look.

♡ He goes to Sumeru. The House of Daena has undergone multiple renovations, and the secret archive has been moved to a new room. He rereads the texts about you and Khaenri’ah, taking note of each inaccuracy. How many years ago was his last visit? Has it really been 200 years since the day he crossed paths with you? So much has changed since then.

♡ Afterwards, Dainsleif finds himself wandering the area near Khaenri’ah. He hasn’t set foot in his homeland ever since the Cataclysm, but memory is a dangerous temptation. Just as he is about to walk away, he hears a loud sob and runs into the ruins.

♡  He finds a young person kneeling in a patch of Inteyvat flowers, hands clasped in prayer. When he calls out to them, they lift their head to reveal tears and star-shaped pupils in their eyes. Their face, however, is pristine. Are their cursed marks concealed with makeup? Or are they just a descendant of Khaenri’ah? Dainsleif crouches in front of them, offering his help…and that is when the person’s destitute expression twists into an eerie grin.

♡ Suddenly, the Inteyvat wrap around his limbs, restraining him. A heavy weight strikes the back of his head—the blunt side of a sword? Through his blurry vision, he watches as a celestial halo and a pair of glittery wings emerge from the body of the “Khaenri’ahn.” Two similar silhouettes appear near them, one in bronze armor and the other adorned with flowers. Everything goes dark.

♡ When he wakes up, he is in what seems to be a church. His body is chained to the altar and he feels dizzy, fading in and out of consciousness. From the looks of the stained-glass windows, it is already night. Beside him is a wounded figure, also restrained, more skeleton than flesh. They blankly stare ahead, unresponsive to his questions, and…is that Halfdan?

♡ The horrifying revelation is worsened by the presence of his attackers. From what Dainsleif can recall of the books he’d read, they are angels from the Second Sphere. The Dominion’s starry gaze is full of hatred as they narrate his comrade’s life after the Cataclysm. Halfdan had stayed behind to search for survivors, up until the angels took over their home. And in the decades since, he had been starved, tortured, kept alive only by the curse.

♡ By the end of their speech, all hope has left Dainsleif. Already, he is on the brink of passing out again and the chains have neutralized his Khaen’riahn sorcery. How can fate be so cruel to him? As the Dominion flies over to him, their multiple eyes blazing with cruelty, he whispers an apology to Halfdan and braces himself for a new world of suffering.

♡ Except they never lay a hand on him. In a burst of light, a taloned hand grabs the Dominion by the halo and slams them against the marble tiles. The other angels scream and cower in fear, a familiar name leaving their lips. Halfdan remains catatonic. As for Dainsleif, all he feels is pure relief at the sight of his savior.

♡ At this moment, you have never looked scarier. Your face is twisted in an expression of animalistic rage, and your glare could outshine the sun. You curse the Dominion this time, followed by the Virtue and the Power, before flying over to Dainsleif and breaking his chains. Before he faints again, he manages to point at Halfdan and beg you to help him as well.

♡ How long was he asleep? When he wakes up, the stained-glass windows are all shattered to reveal a sky the color of twilight. He and Halfdan have been moved to a corner of the church, kept warm by a blanket. And when he looks around the holy sanctuary, all he can see is carnage.

♡ Pieces of armor and flesh are scattered across the floor—the Power, brutally dismembered. Slumped against the double doors is the body of the Virtue, flowers and wings ripped off their cursed body. A rhythmic pattern of thuds directs his attention to the altar, where you are torturing the Dominion.

♡ They’re still alive, but barely. The eyes on their wings have been gouged out, and their halo has been reduced to fragments. You are bashing their face against the altar repeatedly—for how long? They have been disfigured beyond recognition. You ignore their desperate cries for forgiveness, only stopping when Dainsleif calls out to you.

♡ And just like that, your demeanor shifts from ferocity to concern. A loud crack echoes in the church as you finish off the Dominion and leave their corpse on the altar. Then you go over to Dainsleif, reassuring him that he is safe. But in the warmth of your embrace, he can only look at Halfdan.

♡ It’s too late for him. Irreparable damage has already been done to his body, what more for his psyche. Still, Dainsleif finds himself speaking to Halfdan, staring into his blank eyes, asking you if anything can be done to alleviate his pain. And when you ask him how badly he wants to put his comrade out of his misery…he understands the implication. And he tells you to do it.

♡ He doesn’t know if Halfdan can hear him. Nonetheless, Dainsleif forces a smile on his face, thanks him for faithfully doing his duty, and lies about the fate of Khaenri’ah. Then he moves aside, allowing him to crouch in front of Halfdan. Gently, you touch his face and whisper something to him. Then you spread your wings, blocking Dainsleif’s view.

♡ There is another crack. When you fold your wings, Halfdan’s head has been crushed and you are staring into his blank eyes. Glimpsing his soul, you confirm his comatose state and comfort Dainsleif. The rest of the day is spent preparing a makeshift grave and burying Halfdan in it. When you finally leave Khaenri’ah, Dainsleif turns back to face the ruins of his homeland. He hopes that his comrade is having a nice dream.

 ˖⋆‧˚✦

“I can do this by myself, you know.”

“I know. Now stay still, won’t you?”

“Right now, your health is more important.”

“And who are you to decide that?”

“______.” He gives you an exasperated look in the mirror and takes the comb out of your hands. “I am perfectly capable of brushing my own hair.”

The mirror reflects your stubborn expression. “But Dain—”

“I insist.” His gaze drifts to your bandaged shoulder, followed by the bruises near your neck. “Get some rest.”

“Oh, fine.” Shaking your head, you walk away from the vanity table.

Dainsleif faces his reflection. Aside from a bruise on the back of his head, his body is unharmed by the angel attack. To think it has only been a few hours since he left Khaenri’ah and returned to Shapur Hotel with you. He doesn’t know how he managed to get through dinner in his grief-stricken state.

At least his physical pain has subsided. And he feels better after taking a bath, though you were insistent on joining him. You wouldn’t even let him hold the hairdryer.

“Where on earth are my feathers?”

The facade of normalcy is broken by your sudden outburst. When Dainsleif turns to you, he sees you sifting through the clothes he’d just worn.

You give him an indignant look. “No wonder those angels didn’t know—What were you even doing in Khaenri’ah? Couldn’t you have at least waited for me to accompany you?!”

“...I kept them in my bag,” he answers. He walks over to the desk, where he’d placed his mask and the satchel you’d gifted him ten years ago. “I never knew there was a rational purpose to your feathers. I thought it was merely a sign of ownership.”

“Huh? Were you blind to the feathers on my brothers’ clothes?”

“That, I believed to be your equivalent of a family symbol.”

“In the past two centuries, did you even think of asking me about it?!”

He did try, at the start of your companionship, and you only said that he’d regret wasting your feathers. But Dainsleif knows better than to say that right now.

So instead, he yields to your embrace. This close, he can feel your body shaking.

“Do you know how frightened I was when I realized what happened to you?” you whisper.

“Now I do,” he mumbles. He hugs you back, positioning his hands below your lower wings. “Thank you for saving me.”

After a few minutes, he is the one to break the silence.

“Where were you these past weeks? I wondered if we’d ever meet again.”

“Oh, that? I just had a lot on my plate. Another headache, a new batch of sinners…and I figured you’d want some time to yourself. Ah, and I almost forgot!”

This time, you pick up your bloodstained clothes and take something out of your pocket.

“Here.” Facing him, you open the velvet box in your hands.

His eyes widen. “Oh, that’s…”

A ring. This isn’t the first one he has received from you, but it looks special. The gold band is engraved with intricate stars. The stone in the center is smooth, lustrous, with a radiant glow.

“What mineral is this?” he asks.

You tilt your head, and that is when he notices your horn. It looks normal at first glance, but it is shorter by a single inch.

“I commissioned one of the best craftsmen in Hell,” you explain. “How’s this? It should be easier to wear than my feathers, don’t you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” he admits, but his gaze hasn’t left your horn. “Was it—”

“It’s fine.” It sounds like the reassurance isn’t only for him. But he can tell that your smile is genuine. “It’ll grow back.”

“All right, then.” He allows you to lift his cursed hand and slip the ring onto his finger. “…Thank you for the gift.”

“Now, why don’t we get some sleep? It’s been a long day.”

With that, Dainsleif follows you to the bed. As always, you wrap your arms around him, pressing your torso against his back. Your wings also hug him, caging him in silvery feathers.

You press a kiss to his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

He stares ahead. “If you insist.”

The window showcases the second twilight of the day. You continue speaking.

“Tomorrow, do you want to have dinner at Lambad’s Tavern? It’s been a while since we enjoyed a drink together.”

“Sure,” he says. Already, he can feel the temptation of sleep. “And afterwards?”

A taloned fingertip traces the blue veins on his palm. “We can go wherever you want. There are a lot of new places to visit in Sumeru. I’ve heard of a new resort that opened in Inazuma. Oh, and if we leave for Liyue next week, we can get there in time for the Lantern Rite Festival.”

He intertwines your fingers. “I see. That sounds nice.”

He turns his head, facing you. Your eyes are bright, reflecting the stars in his own gaze.

“We can make our decision tomorrow.” With that, you give him a soft smile and close your eyes. “Sweet dreams, Dain.”

“Good night.”

He remains awake, however, long after the sky has turned dark. His hand is still in yours, his new ring glowing brighter than his cursed marks.

…He doesn’t know what to do, honestly. In two days, he has experienced so much, felt so many emotions, and he has yet to process it all. And there is still the winding road of eternity ahead of him, a future that promises anything but salvation. But tonight…

Tonight, he shall close his eyes and accept his fate.

Perhaps he will even dream of you.

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

At long last…..Dain’s fic has been written. This has been in my drafts since April, and I’m really happy with how it turned out!! Also, if the first few bullet points look very familiar, that’s because Pierro’s fic also begins with my worldbuilding for Church AU! Khaenri’ah~

Aahhh I had a lot of fun with Darling! Dainsleif and his demon wife. I rlly enjoyed writing their dynamic, so this definitely isn’t the last time I write for them. Who knows?? Maybe I’ll spare Dain and give him less suffering (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Tag a Dainsleif enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @naraven @pranabefall @navxry @teabutmakeitazure @mochinon-yah @harmonysanreads @stickyspeckledlight

[drawing-prompt-s]

GoFundMe - Apartment Transfer

Really did not think that I would be making one of these again. But yours truly, Prompt Prophet, cannot catch a break. Every time that I think I am it seems to them just be ripped right back away.

Note: any further proof you require, please contact me at my main, @prophet-rebellion, and I will do what I can to show you.

$400/$400

Links:

GoFundMe

PayPal

Venmo

Please note that this following update means that anybody who wanted to send additional funds for my current roommates cat - Do Not. I want nothing to do with her. Her cat did nothing but after all this I am done. Not funds had been sent for that cat yet but they had been inquired about being a possibility.

----------------

TL;DR - my apartment that told me they were moving my nightmare of a roommate with something called a forced transfer, then apparently reversed their decision (despite documentation) and did not tell me. The only way for me to get out now is to pay a $300 Transfer Fee + Applicable costs to get out as soon as I can. Giving up the apartment I have lived at for almost 2 years now.

The full explanation I gave is under the cut.

Please note I do not want to be doing this, and as soon as I hit $400 the GoFundMe is getting closed. People are struggling enough right now and I hate asking for monetary help when I know this much.

But god, for the sake of myself and my cat I cannot do this. I can't live here with her anymore, but I can't break my lease either.

FULL EXPLANATION (copied from GoFundMe):

Many of you know me for raising funds regarding my cats, either in the search for one of them as being missing, or more recently to raise funds for the other for ear mite treatment.

We reached the full goal of ear mite treatment within 24 hours of the fundraiser being set up - and it feels wrong in a sense to add the funds to that GoFundMe. The Ear Mite treatment is still happening and I fully intend to post an update photo of her at the vet there when I can.

However, to this end, so much as I do not want to be asking for help.

Living with my current roommate is hell. Cut and dry. She is vindictive, rude, loud, and confrontational. Her own cat has a tendency to attack my own and has on many occasions. This roommate was moved into the apartment in June, I have been here for more than a year and a half.

I will save you most of the story because there is an incredible amount, honestly, and I have cried more than my fair share today. My body is threatening more tears as I work through writing this now.

Incredibly important note: one of my old roommates is moving back in, she is a good friend of mine. However, given all that my current one has done, the original roommate refuses to move back if the current one is still present. I cannot blame her as the actions of my current roommate have driven me to locking myself in my room 24/7, along with my ESA. I wish that this was an exaggeration. It is not.

The brunt of the situation comes down to this:

We had mediation, my current roommate and I, and it was about as useless as you would believe it to be.

Nothing changed, in fact any things reverted back to the way they had been or seemingly got worse.

I went to speak with the property manager one-on-one to bring the full story to light along with evidence to backup what I was saying. I completely broke down at this point in time. I cannot break my lease, I cannot escape my current roommate - I am caged.

What was decided in that meeting was that they would be performing a forcible transfer of my roommate - she would be moving to another apartment, same layout, same size room, etc. But out. We would then phase my soon-to-be roommate back in (she had not originally renewed her lease because she was going to be gone for some time). This meeting was on Friday. I was told by the property manager that the following Monday she was going to have a meeting with my current roommate and inform her of this. The whole process would supposedly take about 2 weeks. (It should also be included that my current roommate has had multiple violations of her lease which I had documented). This decision was then further documented by an email they sent to my soon-to-be roommate stating that upon her arrival into the apartment, my current roommate would be gone. So this is an actual documented decision.

The two weeks was almost up and nothing had been heard, my roommate had not packed, etc. So yesterday (October 17th) I sent an email to which I got no reply. Today (October 18th) I went and spoke to the leasing manager (different from the Property Manager, whom is ranked just above her). the LM had no idea what I was talking about. She then spoke with the PM, who I had met with and called me back.

Apparently, the Property Manager, in her meeting the following Monday decided that actually we would continue to live together. My current roommate would no longer be moved out. This sudden change was not communicated to myself or my soon-to-be roommate who was refiling her lease under the impression the issue would be gone.

No curtsey to respond to my email, no honoring a DOCUMENTED decision. Etc. Just radio silence to me.

The only two options available are this - since they are now also giving my soon-to-be (hopefully) roommate a hard time about her income.

1. Myself and my soon-to-be roommate are moved from our original apartment to a different and fully vacant apartment.

(This is the decision we are going with on the grounds that my STB roommate be accepted).

2. My STB roommate does not move in at all and cancels her lease process, leaving me along in the apartment with my devil of a roommate and her cat that keeps attacking my own.

This second option is not sustainable. I am breaking, entirly. I am so tired, and so done with this all.

I do not want to give up where I have lived for almost two years becuase the actions of a vindictive new arrival. But I cannot stay here. If I could break my lease then I would. Because the Property Manager is the highest authority present at the office there is nobody I can go to above her that will hold her to her documented word and honor it. (I did but in a request to the corporation that owns my complex to speak with them about her conduct, but I doubt anything will come of it outside of retaliation).

The reality of option 1 however, is that it is no longer considered a forced transfer. Meaning that i have to pay the transfer fee listed in my lease of $300 plus applicable fees ("convenience" fee and card transfer %). I cannot move apartments until this fee is paid.

Therefore I am setting the amount at $400 to account for the percentage that GFM takes, and the amount that the apartments themselves will be taking on.

I have no set goal for how fast this will be filled, but by God, the sooner the better. I am not renewing my lease and remaining her after it ends in June.

[gods-biggest-mistake-tbh]

peekaboo

HERE'S THE SNEAK PEEK YOU ALL WANTED SO BADLY LMAO

uhh no active warnings so far?? this is like 200 nope it's 300 ish words.

Luci x f!sinner, pre-established marriage, etc etc.

i'm so tired and brain is nOt brAInInG

but here you go lol

Your husband, Lucifer, had been ignoring you for three months by now, and there didn't seem to be anything you could do about it while still being respectful. You had tried everything you could while giving him his space-- You texted him, left him sticky notes on his desk, and had Charlie try talking to him-- All to no avail. 

Today was the day, you decided. You were sick and tired of Lucifer ignoring not only you but his daughter as well. Of course, you'd still let him have his space for the day, but after you were done with your errands, you'd come home and confront him. 

You made your way downtown to Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, politely smiling at the people you passed. No one tried to stop you today, thank God, and you made it there just in time for Charlie's first exercise to start. 

Waving as you slipped in, you sighed, sitting down and closing your eyes. You hated to admit it, but sleeping in a bed by yourself had been terrible. Worse than terrible, really. 

Your once-constant nightmares. which had dissipated after you started sleeping next to Lucifer, had returned and plagued you once again. You tried your best not to scream once you awoke, but it didn't help your panic. Without Lucifer beside you, calming down was, once again, a much harder task. 

"Hey, Mom. I'm so glad you came today," Charlie said, sitting next to you and smiling, "Have you heard anything from Dad yet?"

"I'd love to tell you I have, but it's still a no. Not a single word."

"Dammit. I wish I knew how I could help you. This is just the worst. Well, I mean, not as bad as after my mo- After Lilith left, but you get what I mean." She sighed, leaning back. 

"It's alright, Chars. You're doing your best." You gave her a soft, if not somewhat forced smile.

i AM open to feedback cause yk I'm just trying to get better like everyone else is.

but thanks for reading guys! i'm hoping to post more things here, but who knows? i sure as hell don't.

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES!!

❤️❤️❤️

[divinehedons]

in darkness and in secrecy

pairing: raider!joel miller x f!reader

word count: ~2.1k

summary: following your escape from the corrupt system of the qz, you run into the worst person possible in the guise of a lone raider.

warnings: this is a dark fic, minors DO NOT interact! non-consensual oral (f receiving) and vaginal fingering, knife play, bondage, reader gets a little cut up from the knife.

note: thank you for 300! please let me know what you think, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

“Good, you’re awake.” It’s the voice you hear when you feel yourself emerge from the murky depths of sweet, silent sleep. Just then, you knew that your sought-after escape was over, and you were back in the terrifying consciousness of your post-apocalyptic reality. You blink once, twice, attempt to stretch your arms, only to be stopped mid-air by the bindings wrapped around your torso, your arms, tethering you to the chair as you gasp.

You remember the late evening, panicking as you ran through the context of your pack before you slipped out of the QZ. Water, dried fruit, sleeping bag, flashlights, batteries. You look over your tiny room once more, examining for anything that would betray your escape when, inevitably, someone comes looking.

Everything was too chaotic, too dangerous. Even the people that were meant to maintain some sense of order made you more terrified than those who creep along the Earth, the lovechild of life and death producing an unspeakable hell. So you ran, creeping along sewers and diving out of sight at the first sign of trouble. Dawn finds you among decimated cities, feeling the wind pass through for the first time in years. In this silence, you could almost imagine the bustle of pre-apocalyptic life, so unaware, so annoying, and now in nothingness, so treasured.

You remember, too, the sound of the same voice that woke you now. “Well, well, well… who do we have here?”

You tried to run. Truly, you did. If you were meeting your maker now, you’d have the gall to say you fought to the very bitter end. Whatever bitter end was waiting for you. You repeat the same sentiment when your vision clears and you’re finally met with the bearded face of the smirking man holding your head up by the hair. He visibly smirks at the glint of fear in your eyes.

“I don’t know anything, sir, I just want to get away-”

“Sir? You’re just a sweet, well-mannered little thing, aren’t ya, doll?” He leans closer, and you feel him inhale your scent from the very crook of your neck, leaving you frozen and limp in his hold.

–

Normalcy now seemed such a strange word to Joel. Days of waking up to the noise of his fan on hot Texan days, Sarah and her shenanigans, laughter, so much laughter that made his jaw hurt. Those were the days of walking memory, ghosts shaken from the grave. Perhaps that was why he was so taken by you when he saw you that morning. You looked… lived in, domestic. At least, as domestic as was possible in your new modern age.

Funny, he thinks, they used to talk of the future with the hope of flying cars, time travel, endless space– and here you both were, survivors of an apocalyptic event where survival may as well mean a death sentence. Funny, too, that he takes one look at you and he's immediately reminded of those distant drunken nights with the alluring warmth of someone, nights with legs over his shoulders, squeals in his ear.

He initially thought it was the determination in your bones. It is only when he looks at you again now, in the low light of their rendezvous point with your arms bound and your lip trembling, that he realizes just what it was about you. It was your eyes. Superficially meek with the spark of danger beneath the layers. Angelic fuck eyes that would lure God to the very gates of damnation. Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe the sight of a woman after so much depravity was enough of a threshold.

Why should one deny the sins of the flesh at the end of the world?

He tries not to repeat that sentiment as he moves closer to you, letting his tongue traverse your neck, your jaw, the back of your ear. He breathes you in again and he recognizes the soft, familiar scent of femininity that emanates from your very skin. He tries to chase it, almost taste it, chuckling as you tense beneath his hold.

There is the scent of milk– like baby’s skin, rare and treasured. It speaks of warmth, of your body being alive and struggling to live. 

To survive, no matter how many skies have fallen.

He grasps for a pretense, a reason, something to assure himself that he was doing this for something— some benefit that was beyond his own. It comes to him when he remembers the ration cards tucked in your backpack.

"You're from one of those Quarantine Zones, weren't ya?"

—

"Come on, little birdie, tell me your secrets…"

He peers over you like a predator toying with his prey. You feel your knees quake as you struggle against your bindings. You shake your head profusely, begging for him to see reason, for his humanity to prevail. But when you look, you know no answer will satisfy him. 

"No? Not even to tell me where they keep the goods?" You yelp, biting your lip gently. "Or… at least tell me how you escaped?" His hands grapple with the nearest blade, levelling it to your eyesight to show it to you; sharp and stained with someone else’s blood. It was a blade that has already claimed one life; streaked in dried rivulets, metallic smell unmistakeable.

The words escape you before you can stop it. Despite all things, despite the lies you have told yourself, despite the resolutions of blowing your brains out when morning comes. Even despite all that, something inside you still begs to stay alive.

“Are you going to kill me too?”

He laughs again, tilting his head to the side as he regards you in sweet, sweet silence. Like he enjoys the trepidation and sharp fear in your voice. “I was thinking about it, but now you’re making me think about somethin’ else, doll.” He lowers the blade, so carefully against your trembling skin. Slowly, he traces the razor sharp blade against your clavicle, your heart jumping into your throat as you tried to hold your breath. He drifts it slower, making you shiver, making you quake. “Pretty, pretty girl… you’re makin’ this so hard on yourself.” He slips his blade under the front of your jeans, shearing your pants wide open as you squeal from the burning sensation nicking your lower stomach. “That hurt, huh? Let me make it better, sugar…”

He tears your shorn pants off of your legs, taking more rope to tie each leg to the legs of the chairs. He kneels before you, prone like pagan worshippers in the face of their deity. He moves closer, and you clench your entire body with a shaky breath. Then he opens his mouth, tongue tracing along the cut and cleaning the bleed until all that is left is the stark red line of where he touched you. “Naughty, naughty girl…” He sinks lower keen eyes peering between your legs, his breath confirming your worst fear.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline. Perhaps it was the expectation of the violence rearing its monstrous head in our direction. Whatever it was… you have somehow gotten wet.

“Well, well, well… now you really can’t lie to me, sugar.”

For a moment, a brief, rare moment, silence falls throughout your body. It is solitude, it is rare. You wonder if it is acceptance. Your cries, even if your mouth uttered them, were sounds you could not hear. The older man’s chuckling and needling finally fade away, even for just a moment. You take a deep breath. You shut your eyes in an effort to forget those predatory eyes and beastly smirk. They say it goes quiet in the eye of the hurricane. You sometimes wonder if this was it– the moment of no return, where you, and just you, stood at the threshold of something you dared not to comprehend. Just then, the moment was over.

You are taken back to your wild cries, your begging, asking him to stop as his warm tongue traces the slit of your cunt through the worn-out cotton panties you had slipped on the night before. It is wet, sticky, naughty in nature. He devours your cunt through the cloth with a knowing chuckle when you oscillate between wanting to move away and seeking pleasure you never had a chance to understand.

“What is it, peach? Has no one ever tasted you like this?” He hums, moans obscenely, leaning up just enough to tear down your panties with a chuckle at the terror on your face. You shake your head, only to scream as he fucks his dry fingers directly into your unprepared cunt, coating himself in your fluids before taking you by your chin, making you suck your very own fluids while he laughs. “See? Look how much you’re soaking, absolutely creamin’ f’me.”

Did you really want this? Did you really ask for this?

“Good fuckin’ girl, didn’t even dare bite my fingers.” He pulls his hands away, drifting them down to your chest to grope you, one hand pinching and pulling until you screamed. “You ready to talk for me, princess?”

Little birdie starts singing.

"Someone cut through the fence before— I'm not the first one to leave!" You try and say more, only to cry out when those same rough fingers fucked up into your aching cunt. Despite your cries, all you can hear is the rolling of his tongue over his laughter, his face coming so close that his tongue was close enough to lick your cheek. “Please, I gave you everything you asked for!”

You feel him pause against your cheek, looking at you with a small smirk.

“Oh no. Not everything, sweet girl. I still want to see you cum.”

It’s funny how you spent so much time wondering when was the point of no return. You always thought you had a hand in deciding. Of course you were wrong. Perhaps the point of no return is called as such because you became mere purveyor, mere observer to what happens to your own body. Depersonalization made sense when you watch the older man lean down, tearing off what was left of your underwear, revelling in the distant sounds of your sobbing and begging, falling to his own knees to devour you so completely, so desperately that it brings you right back, dragging you to the forefront of your very own consciousness without the option to fade away and disappear. He takes, and he takes you with him in the sudden gush of pleasure from his lips wrapped around your clit and his fingers fucking your walls wide open without waiting for you to adjust to him.

It happens too fast. He fucks you and still he remains insatiable. He cares not if his beard hurts you. Cares not if you scream and cry for every infected to hear around. He damns himself, his own life, his own safety, just to taste the orgasm of a woman, whether she wanted it or not. He literally sucks your pleasure from you, letting you bleed ichor as you moan and cry and scream and beg, taken through waves upon waves of unbelievable, incomprehensible pleasure. You swore your vision turned to white right then and there, battered and broken upon your skin as you whine.

You felt almost guilty, rejecting such pleasure as if it was so readily available for the rest of the world. As if everyone felt such pleasure so easily. As if there was little to no suffering in the world.

He watches you orgasm, struggling against your bindings, falling limp against the chair as he grins up at you, beard soaked and cheeks red from how breathless he had gotten. You try not to look at him as your eyes well with tears of shame. “Should just keep you here, doll. You enjoyed that too much, no?” You try to disagree, squirming as he pulls you by your hair and presses your mouth over his clothed hardness, a stark reminder that he wasn’t at all finished with you.

Strange, you think, that when you think of when everything changed, you would always think of this. Just this. In darkness and in secrecy, Joel returns to you from the strange workings he does. 

Strange, you think. Because you left one prison just to be taken right into another.

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

Northern Nevada Gothic for 2024

Something is killing the coyotes. The raccoons have begun to Rise.

Cannabis is legal now. The elders speak of terpenes and cannabinoids. Kenny Furlong's smile stretches ever wider. Where are his wife and daughter?

There was a Democratic rally. You know a lot of people who went, but it was strangely empty.

You drive through Lyon County on a gig app job. The wild horses are strangely absent, save one. It looks emaciated. You pull up to the delivery building and turn to acknowledge the horse, and it has disappeared. The cop at the Donald J. Trump Justice Complex doesn't tip you, but he also does not arrest you.

The protests have increased in frequency, but decreased in mass. You still do not know what anyone is protesting, but you no longer honk in support. Too many have accidentally pledged to gods thought long dead.

You have received five mail-in ballots in the mail. They are all under your name, and they all contain different ballot measures and candidates. You do not know which one is the correct one to send in - they all have the same postmark.

The Awful Awful is now $15. You take another gig app order. You Hunger.

You encounter a person considering moving to your town. You are friendly, and recommend local attractions based on their interests. You hope they become a neighbor and not the sustenance of The Old Ones.

While driving 75 miles per hour, you witness a wildfire begin to burn, boiling and roiling as if alive. It devours several houses and some livestock, always hungry for more. It is unseasonally dry, even for the desert, and you are parched, thirsting for water no matter how much you consume. As traffic slows and then backs up, you read the license plate and bumper stickers of the person in front of you. It decries climate change. It is a California license plate, permanently attached to that car forever. It reads MAGAMOM.

The affluent community of Galena has posted illegibly-scrawled signs. They are thank you notes to the first responders of the fire. The alphabet is not one known to man, and yet you are able to read it clearly.

There is a luxury apartment for rent. It is $1,500 a month. It is $5,000 a month. It is $2,000 a month. It is $1780 per month with a $300 per month gated community fee. It is a vast studio apartment that echoes when you tour it.

You are in a car and see a road with the name of Diogenes. You exclaim, "Behold! A street!" Your Zoomer daughter laughs. Your partner does not. You begin to panic about shoelaces, but the thought slips your mind entirely as you slide back on to McCarran Boulevard.

There was a Trump rally. You don't know a single person who attended, but it was allegedly packed.

You have done the math. If you live in Stead, and a friend lives in Carson City, and you both work at the Reno post office, you have the same commute. When did Reno move closer to Carson City? Continents drift, yes, but not like this.

You drive to Elko. It has become large. You drive back. If you wanted to see people, you would stay at home.

Pahrump is a real city that exists in Nevada. You never laugh when people say the name. It is a point of pride - your family have never cracked in the face of Pahrump, and you will not be the weak link.

The 5G tower is being built inside your bathroom. It's terribly inconvenient for showering, but the internet speeds have never been better.

You pass a solar farm and see whispers of shadows beneath them. You are grateful that they find solar power so delicious.

The NRA hosts an open house at the local gun range. The range safety offer lacks any visible eyes or ears, but he effortlessly controls the range with the practiced ease of a person who has spent many a year at a military drill post.

There is a Trader Joe's. The parking lot is always, without fail, too small and far too hot. There are so many handicapped signs. Everything becomes a blur, but you come to holding a pair of organic mangoes in your hand while an employee discusses myrcine content.

Gig workers avoid specific areas of town. It would not do to be called to a Chick-fil-A. They may not be traditionally homophobic, but the chicken claps for a reason. The giant C mocks you.

A tourist asks you about the landmark letters on hills and you realize that you have never questioned their presence.

There is an Amazon warehouse there is a Chewie warehouse there is a DHL warehouse there is a Panasonic factory there is a Tesla factory there is an industrial park there is a new railway and a new section of highway. The Amazon warehouse is closing and reopening. It is ever and yet never changing.

Your favorite band has made the mistake of booking a gig at the Grand Sierra Resort. You laugh. If the ghosts don't kill them, the fans will.

Casinos have started restricting prime rib to Fridays and Saturdays. Sunday through Thursday you wander town like a wraith, craving animal fats and au jus.

The Black Widows, Australian Redbacks, and Brown Widows have begun mating. You fear the day they achieve perfection and ride to defeat their long-standing nemesis: the spider of Lyon County.

The Spite House has been dismantled. You wail to the world. This injustice will not be left unpunished. Rudy will rest in peace.

I need you all to know that these all seem ridiculous but almost all of them are based on something I personally experienced. I've lived here most of my life.

[aliciavance4228]

Greek Mythology: Funny Moments

I've wrote "The Iliad: Funny Moments". I've wrote "The Odyssey: Funny Moments". Now I'm going to write this post, so that the Holy Trinity would finally be complete.

Note: When it comes to basically any Greek Myth there's a very fine line between hilarious, weird and straight up disturbing. So please, do acknowledge the fact that everyone might have different opinions about this post..

1. It's hilarious that Acrisius tried to avoid the prophecy of being killed by his grandson Perseus by shipping him and his own daughter Danae away, only to end up dead due to a freak accident when Perseus accidentally hits him on the head with a discus while playing afuneral game. Said funeral was the result of an adventure caused by Perseus being shipped away.

2. One myth had Hephaestus take revenge on Hera for throwing him off Mount Olympus by crafting a golden throne that glued her to her seat when she sat down. He only relented when Dionysus got him too drunk to resist being taken back to Olympus.

3. One story details how Hera was so spectacularly angry at Zeus that she left Olympus. After failing to persuade her to return, Zeus asked for help and was told to make a wooden doll, dress it in a bridal veil, and tell everyone he was getting remarried to lure Hera out. It worked.

On that note, Zeus and Hera's wedding night is said to have lasted for 300 years. 300 years. Divine or not, they must have been really sore after that (or at least exhausted).

4. Hephaestus gets pissed off because his wife Aphrodite is cheating on him with Ares and makes a golden net which he hides by their bed. The next time they start getting it on, the net catches them and hauls them into the air and Hephaestus calls all the other gods to have a good look. The whole of Olympus stands around laughing, and Apollo asks Hermes, 'So, would you mind being chained up naked for everyone to see?' Hermes promptly replies that he wouldn't mind a bit, provided he got to sleep with Aphrodite.

5. An unintentional example, but if you look at some versions of Tiresias and Arachne's myths, Athena has really bad luck when it comes to helping people. A boy almost sees her naked and she tries to shield his innocent eyes? Whoops, she blinded him! A rival tries to kill herself and Athena tries to show her mercy by saving her? Whoops, now her rival's a spider!

6. Speaking of Tiresias, the alternate story of his blindness has a share of funny in it too. He saw a pair of snakes mating one day and separated them with his cane, causing him to be turned into a woman. In following years, adventures as, among others, a temple prostitute ensued, until, meeting the same pair of snakes again and this time leaving them alone, his original form was restored... only for him to happen upon Zeus and Hera in a heated debate about who gets more pleasure out of sex, men or women. They see Tiresias and are immediately like, "Hey, YOU spent time as both a man and a woman! Answer!" He does, which causes Hera to blind him. As even Zeus can't undo what another god did, he gifts him the talent of prophecy via an ability to speak to birds instead. Just in case you wonder, his answer was women.

Wheter his answer was honest or he said that fearing that he might face a worse punishment if his answer was "Men." is debatable.

7. Aphrodite, Hephaistos and Eros are making weapons, in particular Eros is making a javelin. Ares comes in with a strong spear and begins making fun of his son's creation. Eros says it's heavy and says he should try to pick it up. Ares does so, only to find he can't lift it up and his hand is stuck under it.

"Ergh, it's really heavy. Take it back."

"No, you can keep it."

8. The poet Sappho of Lesbos, who (may have) wrote poetry about her love for women and who gave the names to you know exactly what, was supposedly married to Kerkylas of Andros, a name that roughly translates to Dick Allcock from Big Man Island. (Turns out Mr. Biggus Dickus might have existed!) He may be fictional, and "of Kalamamos" may have been better because that means "of pen island", roughly

9. Aphrodite finds out some women of a city don't worship her, because they believe that they’re prettier than her. She gives them terrible B.O. so their husbands will divorce them. Yes, the same person who tried to kill Psyche for similar reasons decided to make some girls smell bad.

10. The start of Hermes' life. He was born in a cave where his mother hid from Hera, and after the birth, his mother Maia tucked him in really tight then went to sleep. Hermes, barely a few hours old, leaves, makes a lyre out of a tortoise, steals 50 cows from Apollo, then goes back to the cave before the sun is up. Apollo notices his cattle missing, and knowing he himself sang and walked right after birth, does not fall for Hermes' cutesy act. He instead drags Hermes in front of Zeus (who tries not to laugh when Hermes starts with the boldfaced lie of "I'll tell you what happened, I, barely a day old, was sleeping soundly when THIS OAF HERE walks in and accuses me of theft!") for judgment. The end of it is that Hermes can keep the cattle, can tell fortunes with dice but in no other way, and becomes the god of thieves among his outrageously long list of tasks.

11. One of Bellerophon's exploits is calling the sea to flood the plain of Xanthus after an attempt on his life. Trying to appease him, the women from the palace lift their dresses up and rush to him. Alas for them, poor Bellerophon ran away for the hills when he saw all those naked women hell-bent on having their way with him.

12. When Herakles has to spend one year as Queen Omphale's slave, she promptly decides to humiliate him by swapping their roles, meaning she gets to wear his lion-skin and wave his club while the mighty hero must wear dresses and weave as a good Ancient Greek housewife. It kinda backfired in a way: it didn't humiliate him but Herakles realized weaving was quite relaxing compared to all this monster-slaying...

13. One myth had Dionysus, god of wine and madness, visit the Underworld to resurrect Ariadne and his mother Semele. When Hades asks for Dionysus to leave his "best beloved" behind as the price, Dionysus leaves his finest wine and/or makes a grapevine grow, and Hades deems it adequate payment.

14. During Heracles' Tenth Labour, he was in a desert and became so frustrated at the heat that he shot an arrow at Helios, who was busy driving the Sun. Helios was impressed at his audacity and gave him a magic cup to cross safely.

15. One day when Ares and Aphrodite were having sex, Ares had his companion/lover Alectryon guard the door in case Helios wandered by, as he'd tell Hephaestus of their indiscretion if found out. Alectryon fell asleep on guard duty and Helios caught them in the act, so as punishment Ares turned him into a rooster, which heralds the sun's arrival by crowing.

16. One version of Zeus's backstory had him raised by a nymph named Amalthea (the other version says he was raised by a goat with the same name, which is funny in of itself). To hide him from Cronus, who ruled the sea, sky, and earth, he was either dangled on a rope from a tree to be in none of those domains, or hid in a cave while a bunch of soldiers made loud noises to cover his cries.

17. The Orphic Mysteries version of Persephone's abduction describes that when Hades opened the earth to steal Persephone, a bunch of pigs fell in with her, much to the consternation of the swineherd Euboleus. Later, to cheer up a mournful Demeter, an old lady named Baubo showed her own genitalia, making the goddess laugh and getting her to eat.

18. The variable fates of Cancer, a large crab who Hera summoned to hamper Heracles while he is fighting the Lernaean Hydra. Heracles either easily crushed it underfoot and Hera memorialized it as a constellation, or it's a constellation now because Heracles kicked it off into the stars.

19. Persephone's daughter Melinoe was either conceived or born at the River Cocytus, where Hermes happened to be stationed as psychopomp. One can only hope he got a raise after that.

20. Poseidon invented the first horse in an attempt to woo Demeter, only to be so distracted by the horse he forgot about Demeter completely.

Credits: TV Tropes