#OKAY BUT the thing is you desecrate it anyway. you do it because you still want it

[karinyosa]

.

[madstronaut]

truth can be stranger than fiction, but sometimes they also hold hands and kiss

I was gunning to post this in September but A Lot of Life™️ happened (and is still happening tbh) so despite me pouting at myself about skipping a month, without further ado - my 24th faficowrimo ramble~

every now and then, the fiction I read and my lived experiences tangle together in my head and coagulate into some interesting dreams...some of my favorites ofc are the smutty ones, what can I say I've always had an active imagination

Some of my beloved fics I note as comfort reads or cathartic reads, depending on how I'm feeling and the nature of the story...this falls squarely under cathartic for me

I will temporarily sidestep the mountain pile of naughty dreams to share of a recurring one that's always left me quite speechless that I have had the gift of dreaming about again brought on, in part, by the latest read of Service Dog Johnny by @void-my-warranty in a way that really just leaves me at a loss for words... if you'd like to get emotionally baja blasted (and also tbh once again hear me rant about my love for fanfic) with me, read on, my fellow taco bell enthusiast & traveler ✨🌮

also I am including this gif because I searched 'taco bell' as a joke and for some unexplainably fucked up reason this was one of the top gifs to show up in the list but also what a double-duty it serves as I talk about SERVICE DOG JOHNNY EH? reality sometimes really *is* stranger than fiction but also seriously wtf is going on here in this gif if you know pls DM me im afraid to google it

I started therapy a few years ago thanks to finally finding someone I trusted/specializing in my trauma cocktail *and* covered by my insurance (to my fellow americans: SHOCKER, I know, anyway fuck US healthcare and this economy but moving on) and I recall describing the early sessions to IRL beloveds/moots with some choice phrases, like:

having a sword tip poking my chest and being asked to walk further into the blade

having swallowed a large sack full of glass shards and instead of trying to remove them, realizing i have adjusted to have the bits piercing out of my body be less noticeable - not very sustainable personally speaking, let's be real

after some hard fucking work, sweat, tears put in I started dreaming about seeing that sword as a surgical scalpel instead, healing instead of harming, and that sack of glass filled with water and oil instead (really wanted to put a squirting/watersports joke here at voidy's expense but this is such a sacred thing to me but wait it's MY sacred thing and I can desecrate it for jokes IF I WANT TO OKAY) making me feel light and buoyant and seeing all my former open wounds now freshly scarred up. I'm honestly tearing up writing this out because I am very fucking proud of how far I have come... all this to say, brutal but rewarding. if you have the opp... 'walk towards the sword' my moots & beloveds 💝🫂

I have since ended regular therapy sessions and only go on the one-off times I really need the extra support, but a question I grappled with for a long time (and sometimes still do!) was "how do I know I'm healed?"

I used to think of healing as this near-mythical - and frankly, unreachable - final destination for me. but I'm learning it's more about the journey and companions along the way and the many signposts on the path marking how far I have come (and that I still have a ways to go). anyway I blabbered on here too long but my point is healing is hopefully a familiar (and necessary) journey for us all in so many ways, and I for one welcome the unexpected companions that help us take another step forward (and catch you when you falter back) *looking at you, fanfic my beloved* and SDJ was such a vivid reminder of all of this for me

I could fuck with concepts like protagonist/deuteragonist/tritagonist (had to look that third one up to see if a term even existed tbh) but the truth is for me, each of voidy's trio are written like living breathing dimensional beloveds to me in how broken and tender and loving and human and flawed and mysterious they are and each of them in their own way are so beloved to me.

I have been reading bell hook's we real cool: black men & masculinity lately (deeply enjoyed her books all about love and feminism is for everybody - i understand she is not free from controversy after having devoured a bunch of her writing but i deeply fuck with her main theories that being rooted and motivated to love and be loved at the core of our humanity needs to involve having our eyes, hearts, minds, ears, and hands open to the experiences of fellow humans, particularly marginalized + POC voices) and one of the passages discussing healing from abuse was very SDJ/simon-coded to me...

"Many males have experienced traumatic sexual abuse in childhood. It scars them for life. And when they receive the message from the culture that real men should be able to endure abuse as a rite of passage and emerge with their sexual agency intact, there is no cultural space for them to articulate that they were sexually abused, that they are damaged and in need of sexual healing."

I will say for myself, the culmination of the trio's journey so far in SDJ, simon in particular - with whom I unfortunately share some of his canon trauma and SDJ-flavored hangups and anxieties - has made me feel so loved and seen, like meeting a good samaritan (or perhaps a service dog johnny) on the road to hold my hand wordlessly saying "you too? me too." and walk part of the journey with me, even for a brief stretch.. a happy accident or eucatastrophe of meeting someone at the right place at the right time like reader and johnny have been for simon in SDJ ❤️‍🩹🫶🌿

I've heard an oft-cited statistic that in a random crowd at least a quarter if not more of the people around you, regardless of gender, have most likely experienced abuse and assault than not. Finding a space to be seen and heard re: sharing about abuse and trauma - and god forbid perhaps even healed? in the year of our lorde 2024? - has in many ways been delegated to avenues that aren't readily available to most, financially and socially and relationally speaking - even nowadays. I'm in my mid-30s and I was only able to afford therapy several years ago, despite finally mustering the courage to start looking after years of patient coaxing and support from IRL beloveds, because my workplace decided to expand our mental health benefits + insurance during covid.

beyond my IRL beloveds who have been absolutely incredible sources of support, I am not even fucking joking when I say fan-motherfuckin-fiction kept me afloat mentally spiritually socially since my madstroteens to help me feel seen, heard, loved, and healed - basically free therapy until I could afford the real thing...but even as I say "the real thing" there has been nothing fucking realer to me than the growth and beauty and joy and catharsis in reading life in its heights and valleys and finding a bit of myself in fanfic...

I've heard it said that the profound is lurking behind the absurd and I am 1000% serious when I say the very cathartic and moving tales and tragedies and romances and adventures and lessons and wisdom in FANFICTION (for CALL OF DUTY!!!!!!!!!!!! no less) is absolutely fucking priceless to me - the world didn't give it and the world can't take it away, as it says somewhere in some good books

these made up stories and characters and scenarios in our heads have held my hand, my head, my heart when I have needed it most - and helped me do so for others - and created the most expansive safe space to explore in a free and nonjudgmental way that I can't really think of a real-world equivalent other than actual therapy or times when I've felt a deeper peace and affection touch me in sacred settings or in nature or maybe playing D&D with my IRLs lol

so yes, I wholeheartedly agree that while some of the loveliest writings are drawn from lived experiences, exploring something new in fiction, like readers exploring sexuality through throuplegate tags ghoap fics or asks about aromanticism... or cathartic healing words and gestures they may have yet to hear or receive in reader's and johnny's stalwart and carefully mapped, but also spontaneous and artesian support and tender care for simon... can have just as real and powerful of an impact on reader & writer as well!

and it can be so clearly seen in the absolutely incredible reblogs, asks, comments, and headcanons and side drabbles shared if you go through voidy's SDJ tags which I also so enjoyed reading alongside the story; it reminds me of ye olden days when I was a rabid LOTR fan and I re-watched the extended versions of the trilogies in multiple iterations via the cast, director, and producer commentaries

ok before I lose my train of thought entirely here because I was supposed to rant about what I loved about SDJ and I've just been adding to this monster of a draft for weeks on end rambleranting on and on about fanfic-

the reader!!!! the reader. I have been brought to tears multiple times by her selfsacrificing affection and deep love for simon, as well as how well she is able to disarm him in the moment with her humor

the humor!!! the fucking weaponized use of humor as character tell and development in this fic... i feel (and personally use) humor as a way of visibly lowering and bypassing the armor and walls we put up around others as if to say 'see? it's safe! I feel safe around you enough to joke around and I want you to know that. i invite you into this safe space in me, with me.' and the way time and again reader, simon, and johnny uses it like a sniper shot is fucking brilliant

a random selection of some of (I write 'some' fully knowing I'm gonna just copypaste the entire fucking story) my favorite lines below:

He’s always been up front with you about his trauma, how he can’t stomach touch unless it’s non-sexual. You’ve always known it would just be only you taking care of your own needs, and it’s something you’re more than happy to accept, because you love him. But how could you even conceptualize doing something like that? Letting someone else touch you when you’re in love with Simon.

Lines like these above is what makes reader so human and real to me. 💋👌mwahmwah exponential chef kisses for your literary cookin voidy💋👌

God, why is he still talking to you like that? It’s really, really hot, but are you allowed to enjoy it? Surely you are.

right there with you dear reader, been there before 😵‍💫

His eyes are practically burning into you with some type of excitement, though he doesn't let the rest of his face betray it. It's only because you know him so well that you see the unusual gleam there, and suspect that if you put your hand on his chest right now, his heart would be hitting your palm in a gallop ... He's interacting with your sexual desire for the first time, running his thumb over the crown of your head and watching you so intently that the orgasm warming your legs is starting to feel unavoidable.

Simon's journey to re-experience sexual desire as safe and healthy and normal again...I do not have enough words 😭😭 anyway brb crying my heart goes out to SDJ simon so much i want to hold his face and dick(WHO SAID THAT) in my hands and cradle him gently and tenderly

“It won’t, love." He waits for your your fingers to find your clit again, and for your eyes to slide shut, and he whispers, "Someday very soon, you’re going to get to cum while you’re bent over the bed, and someone’s hand is keeping your head pressed nicely into the covers. You won’t have to think about anything but staying right there and getting fucked, and you’ll be able to just relax, and take it for as long as you’re meant to.”

SDJ simon, like many of us, also seems to find refuge and safe sexual expression in fantasy 👀👀

Simon just smiles at you in that warm way, the slight curve of his mouth that doesn’t have even a hint of malice or dishonesty behind it. You’ve grown to trust it implicitly. 

🥹🥹🥹 this is so tender and lovely. mwah mwah mwah I would attack with so many cheek kisses for simon and voidy ✨

“Dinnae misrepresent me to your woman. I’ve had my share of romance.” “Learned that word on the way here, did you? You know you’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road.”

I fucking live for simon and johnny roasting each other 😂😂😂

The look of adoration he’s giving you sends a burst of fuzzy pink warmth through your chest.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

“Simon,” you gasp, and then frantically backtrack over your mistake. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean— oh-hhh my god.”

I looooved loved loved loved loved loved this slip of the tongue. one word speaks volumes <3

It’s glaringly obvious how wet you are, the bits of your underwear that stick to your ass as he works his hand against your cunt. 

ok I just want to say THIS IS SO REAL AND SO GODDAMN ANNOYING I HATE THAT FEELING LIKE THE OCEAN IS GIVING MY A WEDGIE where all my sometimes sensory issues girlies (gn) at

You figured out early on in the relationship that he loves affectionate threats of violence. 

me, recalling DMs with voidy: yes, yes this is also voidy

“He was just offered a shag, of course he is.”

😂😂😂

That gentle touch happens again, this time sending a wash of awareness though you, forcing you to look away from his eyes. You’re not allowed to feel like this when he’s touching you. This is forever off limits, that interested tingle between your legs.  Stop it, he’s just being sweet...“You’re turning me on,” you whisper. It’s what you’ve always done, any time he’s inadvertently touched you in a way that your body perceived as sexual. You always let him know, let him cut it out before it makes him feel a certain type of way. The last thing you want to do is find secret, perverted enjoyment in moments that would trigger him if he knew.  

sometimes I call reader 'saint' in my head, because I can't think of a better word to sum up her patience, love, sense of self-sacrifice, near catholic levels of guilt for feeling anything remotely self-focused, and desire to focus wholly on others' well-being before her own...and alternately, a saint is also usually a two-dimensional flat figure, devoid of needs and wants, there to absorb all the negative emotions and give, give, give...surely not a life fit for a regular-degular human girlfriend, dear reader 👀

This has never happened before. He’s never pushed himself this far, standing between your legs like this when you’re in your underwear. Why he’s doing it now, you can’t fathom, but this is his struggle. You have to trust that he won’t hold it against you if he gets too far past his limits.

me, screaming and gesticulating wildly: you can't fathom THAT SIMON LOVES YOU AND WANTS TO PUT HIMSELF OUT THERE FOR YOU TO TRY AND MEET YOU WHERE YOU'VE RETREATED LKE YOU HAVE DONE FOR HIM????

You know that’s not true. If anything, the deflection leads you to believe that he’s protecting Simon, like he told him something personal. 

something I find so interesting and perhaps a tad relatable - reader is a fucking psychic sometimes when it comes to reading others' intentions and feelings, and yet overly sus and cautious when it comes to seeing into herself (now why does that sound familar oh FUCK ITS-A ME, MARIO-)

He feels safe enough to touch himself with his friend here, but not when it’s just you? You glance back down to Johnny, heart galloping and anxiety expanding in your lungs as you make some unfortunate mental leaps.  Why did Simon choose Johnny for this? How can he be so very confident that he’ll take care of you? Has he done this before? Is this a thing they do? Simon gets a new girlfriend, and Johnny gets free sex? 

I've said this before somewhere but I theorize Johnny's presence for Simon make him feel safe for & from himself and sidenote: as a card-carrying woman I do not fault reader at. all. when it comes to her anxious spiral of thoughts here re: some men and their triflin ways

Maybe it’s just the post-nut clarity talking, but you realize for the first time that the reason isn’t because you want to keep him at arm’s length, it’s because you think you don’t deserve it.  This whole arrangement has felt like you’re living someone else’s life, someone who’s worth being looked after like this. It’s not something you’ve ever experienced before, and it feels so unsafe to venture into something new. It feels comfortable and familiar to decide that you can’t allow yourself to fully experience Johnny, that you must ration him instead, nibbling on little bits so you don’t grow too accustomed to the taste. You’ve been subconsciously depriving yourself, as if maintaining your unmet needs is crucial to making sure you don’t grow beyond the person you’ve always been. 

All of this + reader's reaction to perceiving crying as bad versus cathartic... early 20-something madstronaut, is that you

I have also wondered at the cost of arguably a huge part of herself (I believe we can and do change and accept ourselves and each other in and for love, kind of like moving but in tandem and rhythm, like a dance, but I'd argue reader in choosing simon and his particularities as her dance partner has also chosen to metaphorically tourniquet one of her limbs to do so) if maybe she is also crying out of personal grief and confusion as well. That razor-sharpness of post-nut clarity is too real... after deciding to give up her sex life as she knew it before for simon, then now suddenly exploring getting it back, and the whiplash of emotions while in an intense feedback loop of orgasms? gurrrrllll I would be bawling too, high-five

You think back over Johnny’s endless patience, how considerate and soft he’s been with you. How he went so slow the last time, giving you time to mentally prepare to be penetrated, making sure every touch was comfortable and enjoyable. And you consider for the first time that maybe Johnny isn’t just Simon-by-proxy for you. Maybe in a way, you are that, for Johnny. 

mmm, ghoapcrumbs WHO SAID THAT

Also honestly I love me some unreliable narrators (reader here imho isn't unreliable in her perspective being false or wrong but rather her deep deep love and devotion for simon can be almost blinding to other important perspectives like her own to also consider at times..) sometimes I just want to take her by her shoulders and stare her down and peptalk her aggressively just saying in increasingly louder volume "YOU ARE ALSO WORTHY OF LOVE, RESPECT, CARE, AND AFFECTION - THE SAME LEVEL, NOT NECESSARILY THE SAME WAY, YOU GIVE TO SIMON - AND THAT IS PERFECTLY FINE AND VALID"

Nine minutes and change later, you make the last turn and smile to see Johnny in sweat-soaked running clothes, propped up against a lamppost like he’s trying to pretend he’s there on purpose.

😂😂😂 "pretend he's there on purpose" WHO'S THE FUCKING DOBBER NOW

Johnny makes an acknowledging grunt and limps towards your car, and you swear his face looks a little more flushed than it was a minute ago....“Nah. Thanks for the lift.” Stubborn, and definitely embarrassed. 

oh look, pot, meet kettle...just two fucking dobbers (affectionate) who give like they have an infinite gaming glitch but hiss like those tiktok cats at the vet when they discover they *gasp* have their own needs

Johnny leans back on the couch to really look at you for the first time today, and it’s your turn to feel embarrassed. You feel like he’s somehow seeing more of you than is comfortable, and it makes you look away, towards the bright sky out the window.  “I should be getting back,” you deflect, tugging the keys out of your pocket. “I switched phones with him, and he might not like that when he wakes up.”

I can't explain how much I fucking love this first dynamic between reader and johnny sans simon. feels like watching a knifefight where their knives are their inability to just receive disguised as their sense of generosity and they keep holding themselves hostage hoping the other gives in/runs away lmao. also i'm re-reading this in later drafts and I have no idea if this makes sense sooo I apologize in advance for my latenight ramblin

You kiss him until you’re in love with his mouth...

🥰🥰🥰

also the flashback to their meet-cute (meet-wrestle?) is once again INCREDIBLE!!! as sex/touch-averse simon is, their body language speak volumes in those split-second matching responses to each others' reactions with the pendrop and the arm-wrestle tie. those magnetic "we click right away" interactions you have with certain folks is absolutely intoxicating

Simon’s not looking in your direction, but you can feel the ghost of his attention somehow, making you feel scrutinized and out of place here. You haven’t felt in place in so long, it’s like an ache in your chest.

I shivered at how good this line is!!!!! THE GHOST OF HIS ATTENTION- mmmpfffhhh

She proudly presents you with Simon’s number, scrawled in blue pen on her palm. And there, below it:  “You have lovely eyes”

my very first crush/love in high school also told me "I had lovely eyes" over AIM, made me very nostalgic 😂😂 Also can I just say laney you a real one; you went out of your way to go to bat for our girlie despite striking out yourself, a true sister indeed, pouring one out for you tonight

The sizzle of the onions begins to die as he closes the distance, and you shriek as he scoops you up into the air with a, “Where’s your fuckin knife now, you little ankle biter?”

i live for their horny-adjacent playfights

You wind back as far as you can, furiously smacking Simon’s ass with one solid hit, and you’re rewarded by his pained grunt and a satisfying sting to your palm.

fucking screeeeching

So, apparently Johnny is one of those absolute pieces of shit who can pick up any fine motor activity after the second or third try. 

I hate to expose myself like this but...*high-fives johnny*

It’s subdued now, in a way that would almost make you wonder if they’d been fighting about something, except that Simon still seems awfully relaxed. As he entwines your fingers, you realize it’s Johnny who’s bothered. Johnny, who's never bothered about anything, is now staring blankly at the TV, his eyes unmoving even though the players are darting across the field.

once again fascinated by the dynamic duos of this trio!!!! I told voidy once I read SDJ sometimes as a mystery/drama because I'm constantly edged kept in suspense about our trio's next moves and motivations

His fingers skim your jaw. “I don’t think you know… sort of… seeing how brave you are with all this. How much it helps.” 

my GOD. this plus my audible gasp when Simon finally touches reader sexually in ch. 10....beyond being incredibly sexy I also was very moved at the two (plus one) reaching this milestone and I have hornycried MULTIPLE times reading this fic

Everything these guys do feels sexy right now, and what’s worse is that Simon is sitting right across the table from you, and he’s thinking about you. It’s like he’s hit that sweet spot where he’s not so much in his head anymore, but he’s still a little turned on from what happened. You can feel it in his gaze, how it keeps wandering down the line of your shirt collar, keeps tracking the motion of your fingers while you hold your straw to drink. 

Being aware of anothers' attention and lust has got to be one of the most intoxicating and powerful feelings in the world 🥴

“Johnny,” you whine, desperate to get him to stop hurting himself. You need to stop enjoying this, you need to focus on his pain, but he’s making you forget yourself. He’s fucking you and holding your hand to the bed, and despite your best efforts, he’s making you need to cum. He’s making you hate your own pleasure, as it brings him more and more pain. 

the absolute deepdive into reader's psyche here in this little snippet is just *chef's french kiss*

When you get home that night, you take an everything shower. You paint your toenails and do your hair extra pretty, shave and lotion and basically make yourself as edible as you can be, because your baby’s coming home.  Suddenly you’re on your feet, sliding a little in your socks as you rush to meet him. He’s just finished flopping his bag onto the floor when your arms wrap around the most familiar, safe body you know, and then you’re home.

I get strong cuteness aggression vibes whenever I see reader being just absolutely adorable

You barely even comprehend how big he is, with how big this event feels in your heart.  So it’s bittersweet, seeing the aftermath of his success. You know it’s got to pain him, losing the control on his body and mind that he holds to such a standard in every other aspect of his life. He could have gone for years more, keeping a tight handle on things, dismissing the trauma and projecting that insecurity onto everyone else in unhealthy ways.  But he didn’t. He’s here, unable to even tolerate your touch just yet, with his lungs spasming and his eyes leaking in a way his father would find unforgivable. A grown man, coming to terms with his reality and letting others see his failings, people who love him. People he can depend on, not because of blood relation, but because he’s worked tirelessly to build and earn that deep kind of trust. 

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 I basically cry-read this whole chappie and also stopped in my tracks and gasped out loud when simon asked to fuck reader and definitely got out of bed screeching victoriously with joy after they Finally Did The Deed

You gingerly sit up and do your best to keep the cum dripping down your thigh instead of onto the bed. God, that’s Simon’s cum. That’s the best cum in the world right there. 

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

You round the corner of the hall, only to see the door still wide open, and your boyfriend with his head bent down, resting on Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny has an arm wrapped around Simon’s head and another around his shoulders, fisting his shirt and holding him tight. “That wasn’t a small thing,” Johnny’s whispering, cheek to cheek with his friend. “That wasn’t a small thing, mate.”

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

I'll be quite honest if SDJ ended here with this incredible milestone I would've still been happy as a clam.. I believe all wins big and small are worth celebratin

It’s kind of weird that you’re here. Technically this is where you live, but all of a sudden you have this feeling of not belonging here, of being unnecessary in this moment. You feel like you’re just outside, looking in on Simon’s journey, without actually being too relevant to the path of it. It could have been anyone, really. Pretty much anybody with a heart would have given him the same kind of love, helped him get to this result. You just got lucky enough to come into his life first, but this would have played out the same with anyone. 

reader my sweet READER DID YOU NOT PAY ATTENTION TO MY EIGHT-PART PEP TALK WHITEBOARD POWERPOINT PRESENTATION OF HOW AMAZING YOU ARE? as painful it is for me to read how self-deprecating as she is here...her perspective also betrays truly how deeply she sees and loves simon in how lovable she perceives him to be (and how willing she is to give him the sort of patient, kind, long-suffering commitment and devotion I have heard mused and preached about that someone like simon, nay all of us need and want)

Okay, maybe that’s not entirely accurate. The truth is, you want to get used. You’re not even that horny anymore, you just need to feel like you’re desired and important and useful for something.

👀👀 the way voidy is fucking reading the writing on the wall of my brain/pussy is near psychic to me 👀👀

In a roundabout sort of way, being selfish right now and not worrying about anyone else might be what’s best for everybody. There’s only so much you can give. 

Your reflection stares back at you in the mirror, with freshly moisturized skin and slightly tired eyes, and you have this unexpected wave of compassion for yourself. You’re only human. You had a big day, and a significant conversation, and you made it through the hard parts. Things are going to be okay now, because you chose right. You’ve poured yourself into people who actually deserve to have you, and it will all work out somehow in the end. 

🫂🫂🫂 i love this so much

He throws his legs over the side of the bed and stays there for a minute stretching his neck out, while you remain where you are, vibrating with anticipation. Finally he sighs and glances over his shoulder at you. “Suppose you’re allowed to get excited.”

the fucking GIGGLES that erupted from me... btw PSA if you haven't deduced it already i am madly in love with droll goofy SDJ simon and his dry-ass humor

You’re limp after that, merely a jellyfish washed up on the beach. Simon thinks it’s funny, keeps lifting your wrist in the air and then letting it flop to the mattress. He can’t even see it, but finds it entertaining all the same. 

god THIS FUCKIN SCENE i just fucking erupted in giggles but also teared at simon finding humor and joy and laughter in sex again

The anger is inescapable, bordering on full-on rage, though Soap’s face doesn’t move at all. He keeps it locked deep inside, reminding himself that this is good. This is healthy for Simon. This is what he’s always hoped for, companionship and romance for his large, quiet friend. The jealously is intrusive, and he doesn’t claim it as his own.

If I could I would happily spend hours picking through SDJ soap's brain like the basement book aisles at the strand bookstore.. I had a conversation with an IRL beloved recently about how we are only jealous with the things & people that matter most to us....oh johnny boy, don't be embarassed trying to dodge one of the most common and pervasive feelings known to humanity!!! follow the thread to your interior and let it show you something about yourself 👀 (or hell that's what I try to do when I've felt embarrassed about feeling jealous)

But the thing is, he doesn’t want to fuck anyone else. Everything here is so peaceful, even with the emotional turmoil. He can feel the acceptance in the air that these two have generated, soaking into his skin every time he visits here. Things aren’t okay, and that’s somehow okay. It boggles the mind.

ah what's the phrase, better the devil you know? I also fuck with the "finding comfort and familiarity in chaos" vibes though I am trying not to have that be my baseline norm of late

He hasn’t had a hookup since he started coming here. Far less sex than he’s grown used to, and yet he’s finding himself thinking about it less and less. It’s like the obsession with the chase and the release has finally lost its grip on him, and now the connection is what he finds himself thinking about. Fuck the connection. That’s the part that hurts people, and it honestly doesn’t make sense that he’s still feeling safe about it. It must be because they love each other. It’s a convenient buffer, the reason he decided to go through with this in the first place. The line has been drawn in the sand, and he just has to hope they’ll live up to their end of the bargain.

to this I'll just say my people, my IRL beloveds, are the people who saw and accepted me as I was, for who I am - and all my changing ebbs and flows throughout the years, even at my most broken and awful, and ironically their acceptance and love and care for me while I was at my lowest is what helped me more fully return to and be myself... I believe johnny is experiencing a glimpse of that here now 🥹 I am legally obligated to throw in one of my favorite quotes on this topic which I have mentioned before:

There is a twilight zone in our hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves-our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and our drives-large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness. This is a very good thing. We will always remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves. We will never fully know the significance of our presence in the lives of our friends. That's a grace, a grace that calls us not only to humility, but to a deep trust in those who love us. It is the twilight zones of our hearts where true friendships are born. - Henri Nouwen

Simon did it. It took years, and an angel of a girlfriend, but he fucking did it. It’s simply indescribable, the burst of hope flaming to life in Johnny’s chest. Good things can happen sometimes out of nowhere. Sometimes, in a random bed in a random city, the universe can push a piece back into place that was missing.

this has to be one of the most beautiful lines of prose I've ever read

You enjoy how safe your body feels with his touch, how it’s no longer a thought in your mind that he’s doing this out of pity. You’ve formed this strange sort of sexual bond, and friendship, and it makes sense to your pussy that he gets to touch it whenever he wants. 

ah, thinkin with the puss, we've all been there dear reader *pats the puss sagely* also such a simple sentence but one not to be taken for granted - no matter how hardcore the kink, feeling safety with your lover's touch is so so baseline important and crucial 💯

“Mhmm,” you tell Johnny, drawing out each syllable in a slow, breathy voice. “So sweet, and thoughtful, and you smell really… Mmmm... Really good.” Johnny raises his eyes to the ceiling, inhaling a long, frustrated breath. For what reason, you can’t imagine, because you’re certainly doing nothing wrong.

I am laughing my ass off because since first reading this voidy updated the chapter with the lovely @gorsime's incredible SDJ fanart and please, scroll down to the end of the chappie (ch 17) if you haven't seen it already

The guilt does start to hit a little, as you get dragged onto your actual boyfriendʼs lap, and a less-scruffy mouth presses to your cheek. You're being selfish. You've gotten too used to your wants being met, and you really need to dial it back down to just needs. This is simply a wakeup call, like hello, hereʼs reality, sometimes your own fingers are all you get, and thatʼs okay. 

I have wondered just how much of this was loosely choreographed & planned by johnny and simon for dear reader 👀

Up until now, sex with Johnny has been somewhat casual, and you haven’t embarrassed yourself too badly. But things are always different, when it’s Simon. Suddenly your heart’s in it. Suddenly your brain is pushed to the side, and all you can think about are brown eyes and big hands, and being as good as you can possibly be. And you’re unused to the feeling of having Johnny nearby when you’re so focused on giving yourself to Simon. 

once again, just deeply touched (and turned on) by the evolution of reader & simon's sexual relationship (good boy johnny)

He watches your eyes while his fingers trail down your belly, and to your utter shock you suddenly feel them on your pussy.

once again fuckin screamingggggggg! sometimes when you're in it for the long haul after seeing someone's borky bits and pieces, you'd be surprised how a bit (or more) of tender, trauma/person-specific love, kindness, care, and unusual paths of healing can have in speeding up the process of recovery...so much so that it can seem like a whiplash when you've resigned yourself to an eternity of seeing yourself/ur beloved as wounded/hurt and suddenly (but really not so suddenly!) you both meet A Healing/Healed version of Them/You - is this 2.0, or someone new? who knows!!!! what an adventure (it is currently 2am on a weeknight and I got work tomorrow as I ramble but I AM ON A ROLL also I made the mistake of telling voidy weeks ago that I thought I was gonna post this and hoo boy i am paying that price)

“Why don’t you go see Johnny?” Simon murmurs, giving your forehead one last kiss. “Get you something better than fingers.” “I think you should let her have something of yours,” comes Johnny’s voice, before you can begin to form a reply. “Cross my heart, I won’t look.”

literally yelled out loud omg HIS DICK? IS IT HIS DICK? HOLY SHIT SIMON'S DICK?????? the first time I read this

Your lungs know it’s happening before anything else does. They expand and then hold, and the next drop of your hips feels so good, as something deep inside you turns itself inside out. With a debilitating roll of sensation, you let out a pained cry and feel your cunt begin to brand itself onto him with pulse after pulse of your release.  It streams down your limbs and explodes in your belly, and it’s Simon who’s got you this time.

this is pure poetry!!! also something deep inside you turning inside out and streaming down your limbs has got to be one of the best descriptions of an orgasm ive read tbh ive only reeaally experienced a full-body endless orgasm after a ton of edging (like at least 15 min) which I don't have the patience or stamina for anymore ;-; but I still think about that One Magical Night from years ago when I did achieve this

It almost hurts to cum on something that big, but it’s a good kind of hurt.

🥴🤤🥴🤤 mmm iykyk but also yes, prep prep prep preparation is key

Your hand climbs up to his face, but instead of the rough five o’clock shadow you expect to find, the first thing you feel is something wet. He twists his face away, but it’s too late. You felt that line of dampness on the edge of his jaw. His fingers begin to stroke your hair, so you comfort him too. You run your hand across the muscled line of his shoulder, wishing there was something you could say to make it better. Maybe someday when you’re better with words, you can let him know how it feels to have him connected to you like this, to have both of your hearts wide open and witnessing each other. But all you can do right now is caress his neck and plant a little kiss on the skin you can reach, and whisper that you love him. That he’s doing such a good job, and you see his efforts. You see him. 

🥹🥹🥹🥹 AAAAND JUST LIKE THAT I AM CRYING AGAIN GOD THIS HAS TO BE SOME KIND OF NEW UNIQUE KINK IVE DEVELOPED WITH THE EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH OF THE HORNYCRYING OF IT ALL

“Doin’ alright?” he asks, hugging you back because he’s a very nice person. 

I am so so curious what soap was thinking as he witnessed this little miracle (which came about in no small part thanks to him, that soap, such a saint he is, so kind and selfless and giving and- *cut off by loud explosion*)

You know now, why he didn’t let you cum before. He let you think he was being mean, in order to give you an experience you never thought you’d have. Johnny gave that to you, for no reason other than he knew it would make you happy, and he was the only one who could.  The noise he makes when you take him into yourself is so Johnny. It’s half groan, half breathy laugh, mirroring the way he seems to see his sexuality as a game. He just wants you to play with him, that’s all. A little tug on his hair, a little smile while you kiss him, he eats it up. So you do it. You play with him for the noises, because he likes it. You can’t get enough of him, that’s the problem. Yeah, the sex is fun, and necessary at times, but you just like having him in your house. You like those hands that never hurt you, the sunshine in his voice, those eyes that know when to pretend they don’t see things. It’s just who he is. 

that post-nut clarity kickin in for reader I see

“Johnny, I like you.” You just barely catch the way his smile drops away, as you take him into your mouth. He’s in it now. No more flirting, no more foreplay. He’s ready for you to get him to your throat, and let him cum in it.

no noo too much post-nut clarity GO BACK READER GO BAC- 😂

“You don’t get to decide that what people need are the things you want them to need. Tea?”

HAHAHA SIMOOOOOOOON TENSION DIFFUSER EXTRAORDINAIRE

I just want to say, shoutout to all my girlies (gn) who can come from a shower head; that shit is just too laser-focused for me to get off 😵‍💫

The way you’d cried and cried over that. It hurts so fucking bad, missing him the way you do, while knowing there’s really no legitimate reason to feel sad. 

no legitimate reaso- GIRL HE TURNED YOU INTO A LITERAL SHOWER HEAD, JESUS HIMSELF WOULD WEEP-

He gave and gave, and in a weird way, it left you feeling used. It feels like he stole something from you, by not opening himself up in return.

✨oh, familiar pathways of coping and perceiving trauma responses, is that you✨

“Alright.” You hold the damp towel to your chest and stand there with a few feet of distance separating you, and give him the truth. “You don’t feel safe with me if Johnny’s not in the picture, and I don’t understand why.”

there's got to be something poetic about reader having this convo while butt nakey

What’s he playing at? He’s just standing there, looking at you like you’re something new and interesting. Like he’s redrawing some kind of perception in his mind, and enjoying the outcome. 

not even gonna lie, started crying reading that last line ruminating on how far simon has come... 🥹🥹🥹 so proud of these little freaks (supremely affectionate)

“You’re trying to turn me on, but tough titties, I’m already wet.”

reader is basically horny shakespeare to me 😘👌 fucking love her humor

“You’ll tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.” “I will,” you promise. He brings his mouth down to give you a kiss. “...Even if you think it’s something I want.” “You don’t get to have fun, only me,” you recite with a smile.  “Good girl.” You get rewarded with another soft kiss, and a firm circle over your clit. “Might have to fool around a bit, it’s been some years for me.” “I have my appointments cleared for the rest of the night.” “Mmmm.” He takes in a long inhale, curling his finger around the gusset of your underwear to start tugging it off. “I like you.”  ‘I like you too, baby.”

ur not crying im crying i mean wait what aNYWAY this is my umpteenth readthru of this because this fucking chapter!!!!! my god I was speechless the first few times around and in some sort of holy awe and pride and joy and deep in the feels from he SEX!!! THEY HAD SEX!!! WITHOUT JOHNNY AROUND!!! (but really, I see and hear echoes of johnny in simon's newly gained sexual confidence around reader 👀👀👀)

“Yeah, stuff it. What I bloody well mean is, I thought we’d have time. Because you and me, it’s… it’s going to be a long thing. And I thought we’d get there eventually, and we have.”

🥹🥹🥹🥹

“I won’t,” you promise, running your thumb across the scars on his cheek that you have to consciously notice to even remember they’re there. He’s just so beautiful. It’s not an opinion, or something you’ve talked yourself into, it just is. Some people will look the same however long you know them, but every now and then you meet a Simon Riley who’s just so wonderful that their face turns into something perfect in your eyes. 

I love them both so much 🥹🥹🥹🥹 is this not what love is, how reader sees simon

So apparently post-nut clarity Simon is fucking annoying.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

It makes you wonder if something inside him died tonight. Something other people put there, and you both just decided to kill it, because it was time.

once again...pure fucking poetry that has again, left me hornycrying...and again I'd die happy if this fic ended here. i mean, purely sexually speaking, hast thine service not been fulfilled here, loyal johnny boy 👀

I have a friend whose family used to raise seeing eye/service dogs on her farm growing up (yes yes I know her fam could've be doin numbers on the clock app today) and talked about how the training to weed out which puppos were eligible was clocking the ones who could most suppress their instincts & nature to obey and pre-empt needs in their obedience.... everytime I see one out in public I am always a little in awe of how professional it is but also a little secretly heartbroken at the same time for that little puppo that was trained out of itself so early...maybe projecting a little but sometimes I also feel some type of way at seeing that line boasting that Johnny is the youngest SAS recruit as his claim to fame also why i love 141 AUs so much where they are living their best civilian life untouched by war

He’s talking about something inside him, something that settled wrong in his heart today. He saw something about himself that scared him. Maybe it was something new, or maybe it was old and buried, but it violated his personal code in some way. There’s nothing you can do about that. You can’t reach into his chest and dig it out, as much as you wish you could. All you have are your eyes, looking at him now like he isn’t a monster at all, and he never could be.

this incredible fic is still ongoing but I am reminded in so many ways how powerful a simple word, a gaze, a touch, can be in reaching out to share and extend a bit of healing and love - and if that's too lofty a goal, then just to offer acknowledgement and presence.

I think of how much both reader and johnny and even simon with reader shortchange themselves so much throughout the story so far and yet the fruit of their consistent presence in each other's lives is so fucking masterfully crafted and yielded in the latter chapters in the most cathartically rewarding way. I know I am changed from reading about their tender and patient kindness and humor for each other so really to all the people moaning 'bout throuplegate let's be honest this is more of a polycule if we consider simon, reader, johnny, you, me, and voidy 😂😂😂

I mentioned approximately 17 years ago when I first started writing this ramble on asking, "how do we know when we are healed?"

my therapist and I had long, long chats about 'neuroplasticity,' but I knew it when my heart & mind & body responded to it all, combined with the love and support from my IRLs, by replacing one of my persistent nightmares with a new recurring dream - it's been a while, but I dreamt it again after reading SDJ the first time around, and I woke up smiling and crying thinking of simon & reader & johnny & voidy & you <3

I am sitting in a large patch of sunbeam streaming in through my window. my body, normally covered with blood and torn skin and shiny bits of glass leaking out from my wounds, looks different. As I sit in the sunlight my entire body becomes transparent, like oil, or the clear wax of a long burning candle. I become soluble enough to see all those jagged shards inside me and begin easily plucking them out one by one. I see now it's not just glass but claws, teeth, nails - old memories, but all still leftover and festering inside me. I wonder at the source of this change and notice where my heart would be is a wick, and sitting in the sunlight has lit it aflame. as I watch my body become clearer and clearer, I see the rest of all those shards fall out and my wounds softening, blurring, closing up. I move out of the sun and get ready to venture out. My heart still glows and burns steadily, and I remain solvent. Some people reach out with claws, teeth, nails - and find themselves horribly burned by the hot oil as they swipe harmlessly through me and leave no marks. Some people reach out with open hands and arms, and find themselves softening, melting and old wounds and scars under their skins blurring and closing up. I am envisioning where i used to see broken glass inside me, whole, healing, filled with light and water. Like a sunrise and morning inside me. 

all this to say, to voidy, and my fellow readers, and fic writers in general - thank you & I love you, for holding my hand and making my days and night a little bit softer & brighter 💛💚❤️‍🩹🌿✨

my fucking god I really really am genuinely contemplating making an invoice to submit to my insurance so that voidy can be duly compensated for tangibly contributing to my positive mental health and growth this year ✨✨✨ mwah mwah mwah mwah so many aggressively affectionate playfully nonromantic chef's kisses for you 💋💋💋 mwah mwah mwa mawh-[devolves into snoring from writing most of this in the wee midnight morning hours between colds, flus, traveling, tears, conventions, funerals, zooms, trains, planes, podcasts-]

A fuckin timely banger of a read from this morning’s commute:

“A sacrament is when something holy happens. It is transparent time, time you can see through to something deep inside time. Needless to say church isn’t the only place where holy happens. Sacramental moments can occur at any moment, at any place, and to anybody. Watching something get born. Making love. A walk on the beach. Somebody coming to see you when you’re sick. A meal with people you love. Looking into a stranger’s eyes and finding out they are not a stranger’s. If we weren’t blind as bats, we might see that life itself is sacramental.” - Frederick Buechner

🌿🌿🌿 thank you stevie for being my latenight crooner and ramblin companion

[lovelynim]

i was debating if i should desecrate your temple with my dirty thoughts, but in the end i'm here foaming at the mouth. so... you know me. karu. every time i watched intimacy rooms with this pup i couldn't get rid of the desire to see him getting what he wants finally. he tried to tickle eiden once, but couldn't find the proper place and failed. what if after all the endless teasing and hurting his pride he finally managed... to punish eiden? 👀 after all he's still very ticklish

i wouldn't even mind it to be spicy, but it's up to you to decide. and of course feel free to turn it down if you don't feel like writing it!

How to tame a human

Nu: Carnival - Eiden x Karu

[500 Followers Milestone Event - "Punishment"]

A/N: Okay, first things first: it was such a pain to find an actual art with Karu in it because it is ALWAYS GARU!! cahem, anyway, I had a blast writing this and I accidently made it a liiiittle longer than it should be, hope you don't mind ~

Summary: After failing to control his human (again), Karu asks Kuya for advice and try to learn a way to do it properly

Word count: 1663 words

Across Aster’s mansion's hallway, the young wolf pup ran as fast as he could. Cheeks flustered, slightly wet eyes, Karu passed by each servant he met on his way as fast as he could, after all, he couldn’t let them see the mighty Karu in such a state. In that whole damned house, there was only one person that the young yokai wanted to meet.

“Master Kuya!!” He shouted, bursting the door that led to the gardens open. A pinch of relief struck his heart when he saw the old fox looking at him and, wasting not a single second, he ran to him, throwing himself at his arms. “Master Kuya, I found youuu…” Karu cried out quietly, burying his face into the yokai’s chest.

Trying to understand the whole fuss, the old fox simply looked down, still trying to figure the other out. “What has gotten to you, wolf pup?” Kuya sighed, hesitantly placing his hand on Karu’s shoulder, patting him. He had gone to the gardens to have some time by himself, but guess even he couldn’t properly hide his scent from Karu with so little effort. Guess this is where his rest time ended. “What are you crying about, hm?”

“Y-your plan, master Kuya,” Karu said, lifting his head to look up to Kuya as he tugged on the older yokai’s clothes, “it didn’t work! The human even made fun of me!!”

With an unamused - and slightly confused - look, Kuya tried to recall what the other could be ranting about. Plan? That had something to do with Eiden? How was he supposed to remember something so specific with such a vague description?

“And exactly what part of it didn’t work, wolf pup?” Kuya said calmly, placing the kiseru he was smoking down on a nearby table and gently lifting Karu’s face from his chest - he didn’t want to risk getting his clothes wet or anything, after all.

Sobbing quietly and slowly recovering himself from the disappointment he just suffered, Karu’s eyes still shined as the droplets hung on his lashes. “I-I tried to surprise him with a sneak attack - just like you said, master Kuya!”

“I assume it didn’t work, then?”

“Y-yeah! I tried to tickle him, but it didn’t work! Not at all!” Karu cried out, frustrated as he remember Eiden’s face and how easily that damned human turned the tables against him. The wolf yokai pressed his eyes shut, shaking his head before looking up to Kuya again, “I need your help again, master Kuya!”

Kuya scoffed as he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “I figured what went wrong, wolf pup,” he mused, raising a finger between him and Karu, pointing to him, “your skills are lacking efficiency.”

“W-what?��

“You see, your technique is still awfully dull and humans, especially someone like young master, are complex beings, full of surprises. You need to improve in order to tame him, wolf pup.”

Karu listened to Kuya’s explanation in awe, feeling the wiseness behind each word. It all made so much sense, of course Kuya’s plan wouldn’t have such a flaw - his master only didn’t consider his skill level. 

“A-and how do I improve it, master Kuya?”

“Listen carefully, wolf pup,” Kuya grinned, leaned his head a little forward before he began to whisper his new instructions into Karu’s ear, giving the young yokai important details that he might have missed along his first try: how to properly apply pressure against the skin, different finger movements he should try and even how to properly wrestle his human without the aid of magic.

By the time Kuya was done talking, Karu looked like he had reached some kind of enlightenment, sparking up with joy and excitement to try the new plan out. 

“Thanks, master Kuya!” The young yokai said as he walked away, waving back to the fox as he got inside the house. Kuya grinned - a devious, evil smile - as Karu turned his back to him. Picking up the kiseru again to resume smoking it, the fox chuckled. “I wonder how amusing the young master’s reactions will be, huhuh…”

Back inside the mansion, Karu wasted no time in relying on his sense of smell to track down his target. Taking him nothing more than a couple of sniffs to determine the direction where Eiden’s scent was coming from.

Unsuspecting the income danger, the grand sorcerer was peacefully spending his time inside the library of the mansion, trying to finish another book without Olivine’s aid. 

As the sounds of steps coming from outside got louder, Eiden turned his head over his shoulder, wondering what that fuss was about.

“Is everything alrig-”

“Human!” Karu shouted as he slammed the door open, grinning cockly as he spotted his prey.

“K-Karu?!” He gasped, letting out an embarrassing shriek after getting scared by the wolf pup like that. “A-ah, you scared me, I thought something was happ-”

“Shut it, human!” He demanded, furrowing his brows while staring at Eiden, “did you really think you could humiliate me like that and I would leave it like that?! I’ve come for my revenge, prepare yourself!”

“...what?” Eiden blinked a few times, a bit too stunned to understand what Karu was ranting about this time. “Humiliate you? But I- oh, you mean tickling you back?”

A faint red hue spread across Karu’s face as the grand sorcerer finished talking. The disrespect… How dare he?! Done with waiting to strike, the yokai ran and tackled Eiden down to the library ground, using him to ease the fall. Straddling the human’s waist, Karu looked down to his face, getting even angrier when he sensed that there was no fear or resistance coming from Eiden.

“Y-you know, there was no need to pounce on me like that,” the grand sorcerer said, still feeling his ass sore after falling on his butt like that. However, seeing Karu so excited and eager to get his revenge, Eiden couldn’t help but to play along. After all, how bad could it be? “I mean, ahm, oh, you got me!”

Karu grinned, not even allowing him to state his last words. “It’s time to punish you for disrespecting the mighty Karu, human,” latching his hands onto Eiden’s sides, he remembered the instructions of his master, putting his best efforts to bring it to practice.

As soon as his nimble fingers started to tweak and prod at Eiden’s side, the grand sorcerer felt the corner of his lips twitch. ‘Wait, there is something off,’ he thought, trying his best to play along as, much to his surprise, Karu’s moves actually felt ticklish this time.

“K-Kaharu, what ahare- pfft- hehey! Wahahait!” As the first giggles broke through his lips, it became almost impossible to hold back his reactions any longer. Eiden was caught off guard by how bad it became, what did he do? Where did he even learn to… tickle like that?”

“That’s what you get for underestimating me, human!” Karu continued, easily evading and passing through Eiden’s attempts to stop his fingers, continued to tickle his sides and lower ribs, covering the sensitive spots with poke after poke, reducing the grand sorcerer to a mess of laughter.

The wolf pup’s tail wagged in excitement as the tickling went on and on, enjoying the feeling of finally having enough “power” to subdue that untamed human. On the other hand, however, Eiden was fighting for his life as those devious claws found their way to his ribs. No matter how hard he tugged on Karu’s wrists or pressed his arms against his body, the yokai’s hands would find their way through his defenses and strike his sensitive spots again.

“T-thahAHat’s e-enohohough, K-KahAHaru!! StahahAhap!” The grand sorcerer cried out, kicking his legs behind the wolf pup as he thrash in a fit of laughter.

But Karu was way too excited to stop. No, he wouldn’t let such an opportunity slip through his fingers like this, not at all! He remembered how much he needed to beg- I mean, ask for Eiden to stop tickling him before - and now he wanted him to stop like that?!

Letting out a cocky chuckle, Karu quickly moved his hands up, shoving them underneath Eiden’s arms and making the grand sorcerer let out an embarrassing loud squeal. “In your dreams, human! This is what you get for provoking the mighty Karu, hahah!!”

“O-okahAHAHAY!! AHahAHa- I-i’m sohOHORRY, K-KARU!! AHAhah, q-quihihihit it!!” The laughter kept breaking through and interrupting his words over and over. This was nothing like Karu’s previous attempts to tickle him. The clumsy, uncoordinated movements from before had evolved into merciless, well-aimed attacks that were driving him up the walls!

The grand sorcerer wasn’t sure what happened, but he needed to figure it out as soon as possible or the yokai would actually tickle him to death. “E-enoHOHOUGH! AhahAHAH, I-I’ll d-do ahAHANYTHING!! J-Juhuhust stop!”

“Submit to the mighty Karu and I might show you some mercy, human!” Karu said, speaking louder than he usually did, just to make sure he would be heard through Eiden’s laughter. “Or suffer! Heheh…”

“F-FIHIHINE!! Juhuhust stahHAhap!!” Eiden uttered with the last bits of his strength. As Karu finally moved his hands away, the grand sorcerer let out a huge gasp, finally able to try to catch up his breath. “A-aha… t-thank you, I thought I was a… a goner, ahh…”

“It worked, it really worked!” Karu cheered, quickly springing up back to his feet. He looked at his own hands, wiggling his fingers as if some kind of power was flowing through his limbs. He then pointed back at Eiden, smiling as confidently as ever, “now, you have to obey all my orders, human!”

“S-sure… just give me a moment,” Eiden muttered, sighing as he used his elbows to support his body. Whatever happened, he thought, it should be better to play along for a while - after all, sooner or later, he knew he would have his chance to strike the “mighty” Karu back…

[boatemlag]

Hi I read your gift fic to Bee and I am soooooooooo wondering about the funerary rites of every empire pls tell me about them

[ID: Ask from erstwhilesparrow that says, "[staggers out of ao3 shaking slightly] okay so obviously now i have to ask you for your thoughts on empires funerary practices!! stares at you with big pleading eyes. share thoughts?" /end ID]

HI!!!! im so glad you asked >:) a lot of this is in my brain but this was the initial note for the concept for the gift fic so you see where i'm coming from

[Text ID: A screenshot of an iPhone notes app bullet point that says: "2. 2. mezalea and complicated system of rebirth and reincarnation-> no sense of grieving funerals? joel has never had to grieve because hes inorganic. clay structures dont die. interested in the connection between golems in judaism and clay constructs in mezalea" /end ID]

my basic concept with mezalea was ultimately that because constructs dont die (joel was made by the mother tree, and in turn made the mezaleans in his image? something like that) they cant properly die? and if they do die their friends and family or joel himself can reinstate them, and theres ritual for that, but its a thing that is ultimately for inorganics. and its not really akin to a funeral.

more under the cut, separated by nation! ones mentioned in the fic first!

mythland: for mythland i was inspired by this story i heard from a classmate of a funeral he attended in his father's hometown in china where they walked from the morgue to the cemetery and it took like multiple hours and they were singing funeral songs and prayers and such and then still had a ceremony at the cemetery. i had an image in my mind of the rain falling through the dark oak leaves and sausage dressed in the robes of a king even though he is so small (way too small for him) and the robes really are wearing him, and the hours upon hours of walking through the streets of mythland to the royal cemetery with hundreds of mythic citizens behind them singing mourning songs and the toll that takes on a boy too young to be king... yes. delicious. after the blood sheep religion is revived, these ceremonies involved ritual animal sacrifice.

gilded helianthia: i really like the idea of helianthians being people of the earth, and not having huge ceremonies for their funerals. people coming from the earth and going back to the earth. planting their favorite plants in their resting place. this one is pretty self explanatory i think? and its a very logical extension of helianthia's values. the bonfire is something i think is very common in surrounding areas of bordering nations.

pixandria: pixandria is, i think, the only canon depiction we have of funerals? its kind of obvious to say "The Vigil" but like. the Vigil. im also a big fan of the idea of something similar to an ofrenda being common, visiting the memorials of lost loved ones. i also think corpses dont preserve well in the desert so cremation is very common. the body is not considered very sacred and its the soul that has to be memorialized.

rivendell: i spend so much time thinking about these goddamn elves its not even FUNNYY!!!!!! religious schisms make me SICK!!!!!! in the head. anyway. i think cremation used to be very very common in rivendell because in the cold of the mountains bodies decompose very very slowly. but after the schism fire is considered weirdly sacrilegious when it comes to rituals, so they sort of have shirked the cremation part of the ritual. theyve always had wakes i think, and theyve replaced cremation with a complex catacomb type situation. elves also dont die super often? so there are centuries of elves buried beneath the mountains but its not like. that many. comparatively. elves consider it important to see the corpses of their loved ones as part of the grieving process and its an egregious crime to desecrate a corpse or modify the body in any way, even back in the days of cremation.

cod empire/codlands: funerals are VERY important in codish culture because the swamp conditions mean uhhh bog bodies are very possible. and thats considered sacrilegious because the only preserved body allowed is the cod head lmao. its a religious symbol as well as a theocratic symbol. that being said, there are a plethora of ways cod folk prefer to care for their dead. for those who are closer in heritage to oceanic peoples, its very common to feed corpses to fish (livestock) and hold a ceremony during then. for those with mythic heritage (before the ravine and erection of the walls of codlands and mythland) funeral processions were very common, though usually taken out to sea. these are just a few of the types of funerary ceremonies the codfolk use.

ocean empire: as mentioned in the previous section, oceanic rituals often involve feeding bodies to the fishy livestock as a funeral ritual. other than that, more land-living oceanic citizens do something akin to a "viking funeral" where flaming rafts are sent out to sea

lost empire: heh. so theres two main things here: pre and post xornoth. the folks of the lost empire used to bury their dead in large clearings dedicated as cemeteries. for more important people in society they constructed tombs all connected by underground tunnels. post-xornoth, cremation was added as a common custom. this was obviously short lived for the empire.

house blossom/the overgrown: similar to gilded helianthia, except instead of the land around, citizens are buried with seeds on their being, to be used as nutrients for the large wild flowers. post burial rituals include several days of merriment and mourning, and i like the idea that bonfires are also common here.

the grimlands: i really like the idea of public burial in the fields outside of the main capital of the grimlands. there are pretty large cemeteries that are multilayered. the tradition has a common ancestor with the lost empire's tradition.

crystal cliffs: I REALLY LIKE THE IDEA OF LIKE. magic being involved in some way. perhaps the crystallization of famous witches and wizards and sorcerers immortalized in amethyst, deep beneath the mountains. because the crystal cliffs is run by the headmaster or headmistress at the time i think the general burial rights actually depend on the nation of origin or wishes of the individual. crystal cliffs is very much a nation of various peoples because anyone can attend.

the undergrove: the burial rights of the gnomes is a dying secret. because there are very few gnomes left, the decimation of the population has erased former traditions in the face of cremation to eliminate chance of Corruption. it used to be something else, but that knowledge is lost to time.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for avenging my brother?

hiiiii ^^ so im (30, let's say M for convenience's sake) am currently the leader of a very big sect, which was Not the plan WhatSoEVER (i'll get into it). i was born as the younger sibling to the sect heir, which meant i had free reign to basically do whatever i wanted while he got the responsibilities and stuff! great deal methinks. our father died when we were both still young due to heart issues that run in the family and also being killed. since my brother had a decade or so on me, he pretty much raised me from then on while also having the new role of official sect leader on his shoulders.

again, seems like a good deal! he was strict, and really really insisted i practiced my fighting skills (like that wasn't the literal cause of our family's heart issues) to the point that one time he like kind of burned my paper fan collection in front of me but that's like it's all besides the point okay he loved me and i loved him and we were both there for each other okay? okay

anyway he had this servant/best friend/pretty sure somethingsomething was going on there. he was kind of like a second big brother to me. our interests overlapped and he also preferred stuff like art and poetry over fighting. he understood me in a way that my brother couldn't, and he helped raise me just as much, even accompanying me to my third year of summer courses. which lol was supposed to be a one year course but i failed twice. lmao w/e

things got... bad. a war broke out, the servant betrayed us by letting a dangerous enemy out of his cell, and he and my brother had a horrible fight that ended in the former's expulsion from our sect. fast forward yadda yadda this isn't so much the part of the story it's just context but basically that turned out to be a plan to get close to the enemy sect leader so he could stab him in the back. which turned out to become a recurring theme.

the servant, now a prominent figure in his own sect, my brother, and one basically-a-celeb from another sect became this big trio (and totally a Thing) because of the role they played in ending the war. servant-now-big-boy (let's go with snbb for convenience) used that position to send my brother into a cardiac arrest by playing a melody that was supposed to soothe him differently.

so now i was alone, and with one of the current biggest sects to lead, while all i wanted to do is look cute, paint and be bisexual. you can probably imagine how i felt when i learned who did it, especially considering how not only no one else knew, but he got /rewarded/ for it by becoming a sect leader himself. soooo i got a little silly and here's where i mighttttt be tah :3

basically i started a 10+ years revenge plan. i didn't really plan a /lot/ of it, but i knew i'd have to resurrect one of my childhood friends for it to grab attention away from me etc and such and so on and so forth. but basically i also got a gay and socially rejected teenager killed for that, desecrated the corpse of snbb's mother, paid some people to spread rumours here and there, possibly killed a few cats to lure a group of people where i needed them to be, and adopted a public persona of a useless idiot who couldn't run a sect for the life of me to keep suspsicions off of me for the duration of this, which was Also a part to get back at him because that meant he, as someone responsible and sooo niceys and oh won't you please help your poor little meowmeow with the big scary emails plssss (he basically ran the sect for me lol).

to top it all off i had him killed by the one person that loved him the most (mister sir basically-a-celeb. god his jawline is stronger than my will to live) (he has gone into seclusion and is isolating himself indefinitely to mourn)

but also all this allowed my old bestie to get gay married with his longtime heartthrob

so. aita?

[best-overplayed-song]

Re: Take Me To Church in response to anon-- a take by someone who first heard it a bit After it came out at the age of 20, was concerned it was overhyped, and on listening had to admit that it was in fact good. (Also disclaimer, I've got less context about like, Irish/English history and stuff than OP so uhhhh sorry this is just gonna be my own personal vibecheck)

Tw: sex mention.

A lot of my feelings on the song are more related to this bit: Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death and revolve around a. Possibly more sexual interpretation, so take that as you will (I was horny at 20 what can I say)

Okay first off let's talk about Why Church Is Horny. Religion and sex are both things that people often have a lot of feelings about. Christians specifically have even more feelings about sex, usually because they're saying it's bad. However, from a Catholic perspective, there's often a LOT of erotic imagery and stuff going on behind the scenes. See: lactating Jesus, saints' mysticism (for instance, Theresa of Avila, Catherine of Siena), and honestly just general medieval saints… people were SO horny for God. Plus, from an anti-sex Christian perspective, stuff still gets horny more often than you'd think. Milton was a Puritan, and that doesn't stop Paradise Lost from having originated Sexy Satan as a trope. All of which boils down to, coming from Christian, English-speaking cultural context a lot of your feelings about sex and religion, both of which carry enough baggage on their own, become intertwined.

So. All of that means you get the invocation of Christian stuff in the Bedroom anyway--lots of people say stuff like 'oh god' during sex, for instance. Think about the popularity too of the sexy nun trope, or even Destiel. A lot of people find desecration of the (Christian) holy, hot as shit, though it remains taboo.

For that reason! "Take Me To Church" being a song about sex?? About a woman referred to as a "lover," not a wife? Sex as worship? Get all those cultural hotbuttons pinged. (And that's just the first line we're looking at.)

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies Hoo boy. So, again, worship = sex? That's a lot as seen above. Invoking the dog imagery as part of deference to a woman also gets into stuff about gender roles, taboos, and the breaking thereof. There's a lot to unpack here-- deference of a man to a woman, of an animal to the holy, the admission that it is a shrine of lies, and tied into all that is the implied desire and consent to do these things. That's sexy!

I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Shame is a strong feeling-- one that comes up a lot when we look at this religion/sex network. Telling of sins evokes the Catholic sacrament of confession. And then we get to the knife. I don't know how to explain my interpretation of this without getting real kinky so uh, let's just say that pain and blood can have significant associations with both Christianity and sexuality, and the use of the knife thing in this context brings in Yet Another hot-button thing.

Offer me that deathless death I always just interpret this as euphemism for an orgasm. But! That's not to belittle it. Could a deathless death also be an assumption to heaven? In the context of the previous line(s), it takes on so many alternate connotations it's insane. Has he been stabbed for his sins? (That carried penetration imagery with it fyi.) Has he been forgiven his sins and gets to go to heaven? Or is it sexual release? With the ambiguity the song leaves, all three are possible, keeping up all those threads of violence/pain, shame, ecstasy, sex, divinity, submission… there's A LOT here.

Anyway I'm gonna stop there cuz this is too long. I don't even like this song THAT much, I'm just here to explain why people do.

OH YEAH AND PS: ADD TO ALL OF THIS THE SHAME/RELIGION/SEX FEELINGS AND ASSOCIATIONS CAUSED BY THE LISTENER BEING QUEER okay bye

I loved reading your interpretation! Thanks for the breakdown!

[sburbian-sage]

Hey there, Knight of Quartz again! I’ve been testin shit, here’s what I got for you so far:

I’m in the Land of Fabergé and Rhystic, LOFAR.

So right away, weird, because Rhystic isn’t a real word, it’s a thing from Magic the Gathering- a word used for cards that an opponent can pay a cost to prevent you from using. Rhystic Study for example draws you a card every time someone else casts a spell, unless they pay an extra point of mana. (God FUCKING DAMN do I miss MTG, can’t play it now though, too risky, lots of cards give corruption.)

Meanwhile, Fabergé was literally just a guy’s name I think? But the way it manifests here is clearly about Fabergé eggs, they’re all over the place.

It’s kinda hell actually. Tons of the eggs have consort ashes (and/or organs/bones) in them and are basically like grave urns. But some of them have important stuff so I gotta open em anyway, and I think all the funerary ones I keep desecrating by accident are actually dropping my land rep.

As for the Rhystic keyword, I’m kinda stuck actually. I’m not seeing much about it really? There’s a place called the “Rhystic Tower” in one of the consort villages, and the consorts get really weird when I try to talk to them about it, but I can’t figure out how to get inside.

Onto the topic of death, none so far. No comas either. I want to ask though, if Quartz DOES rely on no deaths, do you think dying to go god tier might fuck all this up and make it so I retroactively never would have been assigned the aspect? Not that any of us have found our beds yet anyway, but I'm worried about it... Realselves don’t leave a ghost in a dream bubble when they god tier, right? Since you are your realself and dreamself at the same time? Or am I wrong?

As for time stuff, the meteors seem to be working like normal. Appearifier is still letting us make paradox slime for frog breeding, and the Ectobiology labs are present in the veil (but we’ve not found a gate to them yet). I think the exiles aren’t working though? Hard to tell. They might just be subtle and not have much to say, or maybe all of us have too much pepleader or something.

Okay, now for the big list of abilities I’ve gotten:

The first two were [Rose Tint] and [Smoke]. I guess in reference to rose quartz and smoky quartz. They are notably NOT offensive, and in fact seem to barely work, if at all. I think they might just be bugged. I can target living things with them, and they eat up some pluck, but then nothing seems to happen. I know abilities can be finicky, but I’m running out of ideas.

[Record] is an ability that I’ve been using constantly though. I actually learned to freestyle this early on, though the ability version is way more efficient. Either way, it basically it lets me extract a memory out of something’s mind. They come out as these glowy colorful orbs, but I can’t like, stuff them into my own head or anything. When I touch them, I think I get an impression of what the underling I extracted from was feeling at the time (mostly anger and fear so far). I’ve not found a real use for these yet, but it’s become almost compulsive for me to [Record] every enemy I fight at least once. I assume they’ll be useful later on.

As for abilities that actually do stuff in fights, [Elegist] was my go-to for a while. It feels like it “skips” me ahead, to after an enemy is already dead, and then I get a mental summary of how I beat them. But while it’s running I’m actually just in a fugue state, it’s not time travel or anything even though it feels like it. Had to stop using it after it let me get run through the chest with a sword just so I could get in close and kill an imp, I almost died from that… Plus, I just don’t trust it, no way Sburb really gave me a “I win” button, I bet it’d fail against strong enough enemies or whatever.

So instead I’ve mostly been using [Brain Fart] and [Going In Circles]. Fart just makes a target forget what they were doing for a second, and the circles one seems to make an enemy want to go back to wherever they were standing when I used the ability on them, after a few seconds. Both of these are really good at throwing enemies off in battle, and cost barely any pluck, so I can spam them.

There’s more, but my coplayers need me for a dungeon dive, and these were the ones I’ve been using the most, so I’m just gonna send this off as is.

I'd be a bit concerned about the Land Keywords. The running theory is that Quartz is a bugged Aspect, and Lands don't typically generate pop-culture references. I mean, it'd be kind of stupid if you got like, the Land of Gonzales and Mug Root Beer and you don't know that wrestler/that soda isn't available in whatever country or world you come from. Pop culture is constrained almost entirely to Alchemy, so you should be seeing immediate red flags any time they pop up. Related sidenote, I am now much more skeptical of this entire post.

On the funerary ashes, you just gotta roll with it. Toppling sacred urns, desecrating mystic ruins, and defiling hallowed tombs is as natural as breathing. It's sad, but you can't make an omelette without traumatizing a few people.

"Retroactively not getting assigned your own Title" isn't a thing. The only thing you can do to make yourself not be the Title you've been assigned is to do Vagabouncy. The nature of the Quest Beds and how ascending works is unknown, so it's kind of your job to figure that out. And as for whether or not ascending leaves behind a Dreambubble Ghost, the classical mistake you're committing is thinking about Dream Bubbles. Don't do that. All thinking about the Dream Bubbles typically does is existentially freak yourself out. So don't think about it, or whether or not you leave a ghost when you suffer a non-Just or non-Heroic death.

That the meteors and Ectobiology labs are working as normal seems to throw a wrench at our previous "Quartz supersedes Time and replaces it" theory. The game DOES have back-ups in case the meteor plan doesn't work, so "it brute-forces the meteors to time travel when the Reckoning happens because that's an essential step of the game" isn't an answer. Or at least, it seems somewhat hackneyed.

I don't think [Elegist] is an "I win" button, per say. It gives you a roadmap for defeating an enemy, but knowing how to do something and actually doing it are two different things (I say as I smooch my bulging biceps while wearing a shirt reading "SAGE EXCEPTION"). It's like how you can read guides for how to get top scores on Punch-Out!!, but the input, timing, and RNG makes it difficult. I would advise not using it on tougher enemies... Alone. If you can get someone to run a distraction (or otherwise protect you), it could make for a really good tactic. The defending player learns how to protect against its attacks, you learn the perfect offense, and then you put it into action. Unite, synchronize.

Those other abilities seem more immediately useful though, yeah. One ability that might be looking into, either "try freestyling" or "potential in-game ability?", is forcing an enemy to repeat the last action they performed. It'd be really predictable, which would help one learn how to avoid or counter an attack, not to mention the potential of "making an enemy with an explosive attack keep exploding and causing collateral damage". That's the first ability I'd think of when it comes to Quartz.

I'm glad to hear the progress report. Keep your wits about you, seize all tomorrows, and report back with any breakthroughs.

[ilovewhiteroses]

Workplace Affair Part 3.

Pairing: The Corinthian x Female Librarian of The Dreaming Reader Genre: Fluff, smut Warnings: Smut (sex in a human’s dream), knife play in an erotic way Rating: 18+ Notes: - The Agents, my OCs, previously appeared in ’Think Twice Before You Create Us’, where they were straight up evil, but I rebooted them and in this fanfic, they are two law- abiding dreams, who follow Morpheus’s orders

Your sensual encounter with Corinthian had its consequences, although it cannot separate you from each other either...

 Morpheus managed to care of things quickly in the Waking World, so he could return to his palace in the Dreaming sooner. He had just set foot in the throne room when he heard groans. He went closer to the source of the sounds and saw you riding Corinthian on the throne and then continued having sex on the floor. Morpheus seethed inwardly with rage. He had seen many things in his long life, but never like this. It's not enough that you broke the rule that a dream can only mate with a dream, while a nightmare can only mate with a nightmare and even these only with his permission, but you also desecrated his sacred place, where he used to make important decisions... He must replace the throne, he thought to himself. On the one hand, he didn't want to leave Merv with the task of cleaning up the traces of your intercourse, and on the other hand, the throne was very old, so a new one would have been needed anyway. But even then, he couldn’t believe that you two, especially you, were capable of such a thing. He won't leave it at that, he will talk to you...

 A few days later, your mind was still on your last meeting with Corinthian. Even now you felt the initial fear when you asked him about his eyes, and the pain in your heart when you found out why he did all the things he did... You saw his sexy body in front of you, you felt his touches on different parts of your body ... In your human life, you would never have dared to have sex at your place of work, no man would ever have been able to persuade you. But Corinthian was different, literally. You read his book out of curiosity, because even though you knew him intimately, you felt that there was more to learn about him.

You finally met Lucien and Merv, who had been very busy lately and only now got around to talk to you. You asked what they managed to do with regard to the construction of the palace. Allegedly, the library will be expanded and a few broken windows will be replaced, among other things.

 "I’m sorry we didn't take you with us, but someone had to stay here in the library. Next time, when the architects call, you can go, I'll stay." Lucienne said with a smile

"Oh, it's okay, I wasn't bored, I kept myself busy." you answered with a shrug, meanwhile lush images of the sexy time in the throne room appeared before your eyes. You have no idea how much fun I had, you thought to yourself.

Suddenly Matthew appeared and said:

"Hi everyone! Y/N, Morpheus is calling you, he wants to talk to you about something.”

Merv and Lucienne stared at you. As soon as the raven said that, you felt as if you were standing on a cliff and someone pushed you into the depths. Nervousness and panic gripped you inside. No, it's impossible that he might have seen us, because he would have let us know that he was back...

"Okay, I'm going." you said and hoped the others didn't hear the tremor in your voice. "You're not coming?" you asked Matthew.

"No, because he emphatically stated that only YOU should go." he said, you gulped.

"Okay, I'll be back soon." you told them and walked to the throne room with trembling legs, as you heard Merv asking the others why the Lord called you to him.

 You entered the huge room, but this time you had completely different feelings than last time. You've seen Corinthian and Morpheus from afar. The nightmare was in his usual elegant, cream coloured outfit with his hands behind his back, Morpheus stood on the stairs and looked at you with narrowed eyes, as if he wanted to strangle you. Oh, shit…

You stood next to Corinthian, he smiled at you and said a quiet ‘hello’ to you. You said hello back, but you didn't dare to smile, you were too nervous for that. You also put your hands behind your back, making the three of you look like you and him were two students who pulled a prank and were waiting to be scolded by the principal. Morpheus stood silently and stared at you, and you, in your agony, were already waiting for him to get over with it. Better to relieve the tension, you asked Morpheus with a forced smile on your face:

"May I ask you, My Lord, did you manage to arrange everything in the Waking World?" Morpheus didn't answer, he just continued to stare at you in silence.

Corinthian leaned in close to you and whispered,

"I asked him too, but he didn't answer me either."

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Morpheus finally spoke:

"May I ask what you did while I was away?"

You were about to open your mouth to answer the question, but Corinthian cut you off.

"Lord Morpheus, we were doing our usual tasks. I was in the library and Y/N helped me find the book of the man whose nightmare I appeared in next.” he told this lie with such confidence that even you believed it.

“Is this true, Y/N?” Morpheus asked looking at you and you nodded.

"Hmm, interesting… I remember differently." As soon as he said that, you knew you were done. You gulped and tried to keep yourself together.

"What do you mean by that, Morpheus?" Corinthian asked almost offended.

"As soon as I returned home from the Waking World and entered the throne room, I heard voices. In fact, not simple voices, but moans." You felt your face start to burn, you already knew what he was going to say.

"Lustful, loud moans. I came closer and saw you fornicating on my throne.” You were about to faint at this point, the thought of Morpheus seeing you freaked you out. You looked at Corinthian to see his reaction, but unlike you, he remained relaxed, even smiling proudly to himself. Morpheus continued:

"It's not enough that you broke the rules and had a secret affair, but on top of that right here, in my holy place! What excuses can you come up with?”

Neither you nor the nightmare knew what to say. It would have been pointless, because Morpheus wouldn't have listened anyway.

"I knew it. Corinthian, to be honest, I'm not surprised by you, but you, Y/N, I thought you were smarter than to put yourself in a situation like that.” You didn't dare to look Morpheus in the eyes, but Corinthian carefully reached for your arm, indicating that nothing would be wrong, don't worry. Morpheus saw that you regretted your actions and softened a bit. He took a deep breath and thought about your punishment.

“I must note that what you did is not the worst thing that has ever happened in the palace, it is rather unpleasant. But so that this doesn't happen again, I'm warning you: from now on, there can only be a work relationship between you, nothing more. If I hear of any more misbehaviour of yours, Corinthian, you can never set foot in the library again, I will tell you whose nightmare you must be in, and you, Y/N, I will set the Agents on you, who will watch every step of yours. Did I make myself clear?” he asked with a stern look and you and Corinthian nodded. The thought of possibly never seeing him again made your stomach churn. Morpheus asked you to return to work, he has to deal with other palace matters. On your way out of the room, Corinthian whispered to you:

"Don't worry, we'll figure out something." you looked at him and saw his lovely smile. I hope so, you thought to yourself…

 When you returned, Lucienne was alone with a magnifying glass in her hand, reading a small print in a book. She looked at you and asked:

"Is everything alright? Why did Morpheus call you?”

You had to come up with something fast. "Nothing out of the ordinary, he just told me a few names whose book I should look for and that he needs to take care of the matters of the palace." You tried to look her in the eye as you said this because you knew that the hallmark of a liar is looking away and you didn't want Lucienne to get suspicious. She pouted her lips and shrugged.

"Alright then. Let me know if you need help searching.”

"Thanks, but it's not necessary, I'll handle it." you said. Until then, at least I'll have time to think over a few things…

After that, you didn't see Corinthian for days, or if you did, he only dropped by for a few books, and you pretended to be co-workers. He looked at you and even though you couldn't see his eyes through his sunglasses, you knew that with them he would say 'I'm sorry' and 'I miss you'. You missed him too: his closeness, his crude humour, his kiss...When no one saw you, you thought of him longingly.

You saw Lucienne marveling at how well you behaved around the nightmare.

"What? Didn't you tell me to watch out for him because he could cause trouble?" you asked her surprised

"Well, yes, and you're doing right. Good girl!" Lucienne answered you. Oh, but if you only knew about the insanely sexy moments I've had with him...

 Another few days later, Merv told you that the Agents would soon come to check on you. Fuck! You almost had a heart attack at the news, you thought Morpheus had told them what he saw and maybe asked them to question you about your relationship with Corinthian. Although the main task of the Agents was to find meaning in human's dreams, their duties also included checking on the palace employees from time to time and reporting the situation to Morpheus.

You, Lucienne, and Merv stood there while Agent 1 and Agent 2 went through the documents and your notes. It was the second occasion in a short time you were this nervous, you thought a librarian job in the Dreaming would be less stressful. The Agents questioned you, but it was only about work things, luckily there were no issues concerning your private life.

Corinthian came again for another book and asked you to help him find it. Lately, Lucienne also went with you, but now she had something else to do, so after a long time you could finally be together again. You could talk to Corinthian in another hidden part of the library. He told you that the Agents counted all the Dreaming residents for the census, including him and asked him about this and that, but thank goodness they didn't ask him about you, so Morpheus really didn't tell anyone, only he knows about your little adventure. Of course, deep down you were afraid that you would get caught again, because then you really wouldn't see each other anymore. You agreed that when there is no one else in the library, he will come for you and you go into a human's dream, someone whose nightmare he has been in once.

 Night has come in the Waking World, the human went to sleep and dreamed of a beautiful forest. It was evening and you arrived at a big tree in the forest. You remembered that Corinthian once mentioned this 'human dreams of a forest' thing.

"Whose dream are we in?" you asked him while enjoying the beauty of the forest.

”His name is Joel Mayfield. He had a couple of burglaries a long time ago, for which he was arrested. I appeared in his nightmare to warn him that it will not end well if he commits another crime. It seems that I managed to influence him and now he dreams of less dangerous, more peaceful things" He said and took your hand. "Come, let's find a place where he can't see us." You went further and came to a slightly hilly part. You stopped and then looked at Corinthian and asked:

"What if the Agents show up?"

"I don't think they'll show up, but if they do, I've set a trap for them." Since it was a dream and anything could happen, he actually set up traps so that wherever the Agents stepped, the ground would swallow them up. You liked the idea and were glad that he was so forward thinking. You calmed down, you knew you were safe. You kissed each other and you wished there was a bed there so you could finally make love comfortably. A large, comfortable-looking king size bed appeared. To make it even more cozy, you set candles around it. You knew this from your human life, that there is nothing more romantic than candlelight.

You both started undressing. You took off your top and bra, then you sat on the end of the bed. Corinthian also took off his jacket and shirt, then he took off your skirt, leaving only your panties on. You slowly climbed onto the bed, he took off his trousers and underpants, then knelt on the bed and started to climb towards you. He stopped at your ankles, then carefully began to caress your legs and thighs while looking deep into your eyes. Your heart was beating fast. The candle flames reflected on the dark lenses of his sunglasses, a metaphor for his fiery desires. His hands reached your panties, which he began to pull off you, you raised your bottom slightly so he could take them off you more easily. He didn't take his eyes off of you for a second as he slowly pulled the garment off you, taking deep breaths. By the time you were completely naked, he tossed your panties aside and licked his lips. You pulled him close and you kissed passionately. He wanted you so much, he wanted to taste every inch of you. He knew your body, knew where and what you liked. You closed your eyes to feel his touches even more intensely. He started at your neck: first kissing it, then carefully biting it. He went lower, gently and carefully biting the mound of your breasts, teasing your nipples with the tip of his tongue. He continued to kiss you, moving towards your belly and then your pubic mound. He then kissed the inside of your thighs, close to your pussy. You moaned longingly, letting him know that you wanted him to kiss you there too. He took this as encouragement and licked you. When he heard you murmur a low ‘Oh my God’, he continued and ran his tongue around your folds and then your clit. As a result, you started to squeeze the two sides of the pillow and turned your head back and forth, you enjoyed it so much, it was so good. You felt like you were in heaven and lying on a soft cloud. After Corinthian brought you to your orgasm, he moved back to kiss you and said,

"I'd like to try something with you, if you're in."

"What would it be?" you asked quietly and inquisitively as he flipped you over so now you were on top.

"I would like you to run my knife all over my body, and then yours!" he said as you sat up. You were surprised by the request. You have never been asked to do something like this before. "But only if you want to." Corinthian looked at you worriedly, he was afraid that he might cross a line. You bit your lip and thought about it for a moment, then said:

"I want to, but I'm telling you in advance, I won't cut you with it." you caressed his chest as you said this and the knife was already in his hand. You took the sharp tool in your hand and carefully touched the tip to his neck, then slowly stroked it along his naked upper body. He moaned and whimpered softly, enjoying that you made small scratches on his skin, You began to carefully scratch your name into the skin above his belly, but you made sure not to cause him pain, while you looked at him and flashed a sexy smile.

"You like it?" you asked confidently.

"Oh yes, very much." he replied and in the meantime he grabbed your breast with one hand and started kneading it gently, which made you even more aroused. You took the knife from his skin and now put it to your own neck and started to drag it along yourself, Corinthian's hand moved back to your hip. The tip of the knife touched your breasts and stomach, and then, guided by a sudden idea, you turned the knife in your hand and carefully touched the handle to your clit, where you began to slowly caress yourself with it.

"Oh my god, that’s so hot!" Corinthian moaned in his deep voice, you could tell he was going to like that. You stroked yourself a little more, then asked:

"What do you want me to do?" you raised your eyebrows sexily.

"I want you to ride me! I want you so bad!” You giggled and teased him a little more before he took the knife from your hand and threw it away. He grabbed your hips and lifted you up so you could gently place him inside you. When you felt that he was in, you leaned forward, grabbed the headboard with one hand, placed the other on his chest and he started moving under you, moving his cock in and out of your wet pussy. You loved how he fucked you like that, but you also wanted to control. You sat up in a riding position, you grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the bed, you fucked him, wildly moving your hips.

“Fuck Y/N, don’t stop! I'm yours, use me!” he encouraged you heatedly, you loved that you could drive him crazy. You let go of his wrists, then he sat up, put his arm around you and you continued like that, which made your lovemaking even more intimate.

It may have all happened in a human's dream, but it was very real to you. Romantic and passionate. By now, your opinion of Corinthian has changed. You read his book, and it is true that there is no forgiveness for what he committed in the Waking World, but at the same time you understood him, because he only did what he was created to do. No one told him what was allowed and what was not allowed in the world of humans. Until then, people were afraid of him, but he also longed for their recognition, and even though Corinthian knew that he was only a physical manifestation, he enjoyed being able to fit in.

As much as you didn't like him at first, lately you've started to feel something more than just a crush on him. He told you ‘I'm yours’. Did he just say this in the heat of the moment or did he also have tender feelings for you? You hoped it was the latter.

He grabbed you and flipped you over but was careful not to slip out of you and now you were under him. You looked at the sky as you put your arms around him and this time you really made love under the open sky, in the light of the stars, the moon and the candles, so passionately that you have never experienced anything like this before...

After you both calmed down from orgasms, Corinthian pulled up the covers and snuggled up to you. He put his arms around you like you were the little spoon. He kissed your cheek and then whispered gently in your ear:

"See you in the next dream!"

  Tags: @thecorilove86​, @placeinthemiddleofnowhere, @kittycat-kai,  @e-dubbc11, @onehundredyearsofyearning, @yellowwithalisp, @icytrickster17, @lazy-queen26,  @jessamydreams, @amidalasruby, @drowningnikki, @destiny-rahl, @atomwritez, @treasures-of-the-alleyway, @dayleis, @idealai, @belladiaz, @foodlover123456789, @violentviolet88, @merryandrewsworld  @strudelbug07, @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook​​

[sixsoulsredone]

Patience and perseverance had known each other for a long time. Years and years.

They'd first met at the bus stop to go to school. Patience's dad tagged along every day, making sure his kid safely got aboard the bus. Perseverance had grown accustomed to doing most everything by themself. Independence is nice, yet lonely.

They had no classes together, and perseverance didn't like people sitting next to them on the bus. So they rarely spoke, except in small, "hello!"s and "Good morning"s. And the occasional "bye!"s, "good afternoon"s.

On the first day of middle school, they still shared the same bus stop. But something changed. Patience's father walked her to the bus stop, but he no longer stayed. Perseverance seemed more approachable. More comfortable with themself.

Lacking someone to ramble to, patience decided her victim would be the perseverance, who already seemed annoyed by by the mere fact that she was so happy and talkative so early in the morning.

"Hello!" Exclaimed patience, "how are you? Why is your face like that? Why aren't you happy to be here?"

Perseverance covered their eyes for a moment. They were trying to think of excuse not to talk to her but lacked one.

"It's just early. How can you dare to be like this right now? What did your dad put in your breakfast— red bull?" They asked, voice tinged with tired ness and an annoyance that patience was not yet accustomed to. Patience grinned anyway, padding perseverance multiple times.

"You're just a Grumpy Gus, that's okay, I'm going to make sure today is the best day ever for you. We're gonna be bestest friends ever." The shorter kid rambled, bouncing excitedly as they waited for the bus. The taller kid resisted the urge to groan.

"Best friends are for people who lack intelligence." Perseverance mumbles to themself.

"In- tell-a-gants?" The shorter girl asked, bewildered by the word. "How'd the gants get in the tell?" She asked, grinning crookedly. Perseverance rolled their eyes. It had only been 10 minutes, but they had had enough with this girl. They tried to relate silently for the bus, but the girl kept rambling.

She rambled on and on and on about sports, about her favorite colors, about her new school supplies about this about that. About what subject she's excited for this year? About all the favorite things that she's going to enjoy. Oh, did you hear that this year they replaced one of the teachers?

Perseverance own patience grew thin. They sighed with relief when they saw the bus, quickly climbing aboard. They headed to the back so they could get a seat alone. But patience had followed them once again, unfortunately. She sat beside him and didn't leave them alone until they got to school, even desecrating one of their new notebooks with a sticker. Thankfully, they had different first period classes. Perseverance had never been so thankful in their life to get away from someone.

This became routine. They'd wait for the bus, get on the bus, and ride it together until they got to school. For the first year, they didn't have class together. And yet patience still managed to endeared themselves to pet perseverance. Perhaps it's because she didn't treat them any differently than any other person, unlike their classmates who had started to.

Middle school, they quickly found out that they were considered 'The Weird Kids' for stuff they couldn't help. Like for having a single parent and being a little bit chatty, or the cardinal sin of wanting to be yourself. It was all the same to the other kids who had a particular way they wanted their social structure.

That was fine with perseverance and patience. They became their own social structure. They became each other's friends instead of wanting to be their friends.

By the end of middle school, they decided they didn't want to be separated. They were inseparable always with each other. Always at each other's houses, they were practically siblings.

Despite living so close to each other, they realized that when they got to high school, they wouldn't go to the same school because of how the districts were set up. This was simply unacceptable on many levels. So, to avoid the inevitable, they tried, studied, and did their hardest work to get into private schools to get scholarships to go anywhere as long as it was together.

They still thought private schools would be terrible. But at least it'd be a type of terrible they could manage together.

But sometimes, even when you try your hardest and do your best, you don't always end up with the outcome you want.

[whogivesafughck]

My entire life has always felt somewhat re-lived.

Though every now and then I am immensely overwhelmed by a sudden entity, a miraculous, beautiful being. And it didn't take long to realize that nothing is permanent, people come, and they go, much like the tides kissing the shoreline repeatedly. Or the sun creating the early morning dew, the moon nonchalantly being disguised upon the sky throughout some days. I'm well aware of what I am, the traits I possess. How I've always been a natural magnet upon countless strangers. It didn't take long to mentally scoff, sigh, roll my eyes and weep after being told "I'll always be here for you, I promise", because that is all people ever fucking do (leave). And that's okay, such is my stupid beautiful life. I am a collection of a vast variety of people who at a point were overly fond of me, then one day, after many, just cast me aside. Like a stupid toy in Toy Story. The thing is, despite how much I allow people to use and take advantage of me - I'm not a fucking toy. I am an overly emotional, complex, dark, wonderful, lost, hurt, isolated soul. I've shut myself away, ever since I was 4 years old. Growing up all I yearned for was to meet someone Vaugely similar to me yet at the same time it'd desecrate my heart, knowing they felt the ways I have and do. Every fucking day I do things I don't want to, via work - favors for other people - fucking merely existing sometimes. More so as of late. And I do not discuss those wretched disgusting thoughts with Anyone., Because I learned about a decade ago that it's easily dismissed - shunned - misunderstood. That is the epitome of my life. And it just fuxking Hurts. I opened up to a girl I hardly even know about a week ago and ended up with saying that - It fucking hurts - I hurt myself every gods damn day. I am Constantly torn between what I want and what I cannot have - due to my own actions and or lack of. The thoughts of just..perishing have been overwhelming lately and I fucking HATE it because I declared Many moons ago that that isn't even a fucking option - so why do I still have those thoughts. The only reason I didn't long ago was to prevent heartbreak / pain unto my loved ones and friends. Yet again, placing others before myself. I'm stuck at a cross roads. I know what I have to do in order to achieve what I crave, desire. It just isn't the same anymore. I'm not even sure I deserve such a life anymore, despite it being all I've ever yearned for. I stupidly find myself wishing I were anyone but myself. Which really sucks because..well I'm a beautiful person, or so I tend to think & constantly be told. Obviously not. Nobody fuxking knows the depths of the darkness that dwells and resides within me, and that itself breaks my fucking heart. Am I just a facade. A mask worn daily? I cannot stop imaging simply piercing a bullet through my heart so I may finally, eternally as well as peacefully sleep. The agony that would briefly spring unto those I care immensely for, sigh, just isn't acceptable. I am drowning in despair, while looking up at myself basking in the light - reaching out unto myself. I absolutely fuxking hate resorting to using this app, but my gods, it's much faster than physically writing., and I almost always delete it shortly after. plus, no one reads it anyway which is a bonus. I Love but Hate being me, I just wish to achieve the better versions of this essence, despite the consistent general heartbreak.

[tinypurpleparrot]

My partner Kaidan (M, 29) and I (F, 36) just took down a dragon. It was threatening to tear up a village and kill everyone it, and had already torn up a group of bandits well outside the village, so okay, that wasn't much of a loss, but the way it completely desecrated the bodies and left body parts all over was uncalled for. It was invisible, and taunting Kaidan who's already having a hard time with an identity crisis, and I'd finally fucking had enough when it put it's big, invisible, smug maw over the blacksmith's daughter walking out of her house while waggling it's eye...ridges? brows? at me. Fuck it.

So I pulled the river up and pinned the dragon to the ground like a giant butterfly with ice pylons. The village is fine, it's just soggy and the watermill is busted. Whatever. Is anyone injured? No.

But it wouldn't stop talking. So I cut it's tongue out. Besides, dragons use vocal magic, so it would have escaped if I hadn't. And it was still insistent on being a fucking dick. All the other dragons I killed weren't nearly this assholish, plus someone stole and destroyed all my notes and journals about draconic biology. Two dragons with one spear.

Look, I know what I'm doing; I even checked to make sure everyone was still safe and in hiding before I cut it open. Of course it's going to start screaming, who the fuck just has gallons of anesthesia with them? Kaidan tells me to cut it out (*snort*) and just kill it and stop being weird. I tell him to fuck off because this is my job. Plus, he already gutted it so it's going to die soon, anyway. And now the village watch is yelling at me and meeeh meeh meh, there's blood everywhere and the screaming is awful and yeah okay I'd very much like to see you try to arrest me after I just fucked this thing up.

Am I really the asshole here? Did I not just save an entire village? Am I forcing anyone to watch me do important work? No? Well okay, then.

if you're trying to get into the head of your story's antagonist, try writing an "Am I the Asshole" reddit post from their perspective, explaining their problems and their plans for solving them. Let the voice and logic come through.

[yumester]

OC rambling under the cut because I am having a moment

So I have an OC, let's say his name is Kasper; short for Kas. Kas is like going through the worst Tuesday of his life. In actuality, its been six years in the making and the world is ending—typical alien takeover, post apocalyptic/brutal dystopia Armageddon (some part Half Life and interlining Heavenly Delusion, mixed with Fallout NV in a drug laced worldbuilding cocktail). A bunch of stuff happens to him yada yada (i.e. mind taken over, body modified against his will, nightmares/hallucinations on a constant bases, loses every ounce of his previous life; family, friends, future desires, etc.). And, suffice to say, Kasper was about to live the rest of his life as a unyielding drone to some entity beyond his understanding.

That is until he meets professor Lise Blackwood while patrolling. Lise is another character of mine, originally a RP self-insert style scientist but unlike Kasper, I actually did a few stuff with her here and there.

Anyway, Lise and Kasper have history together, Lise was a tutor for Kasper in her college years—forming a close relationship of sorts. They reunite; Kasper technically chasing after her into a desecrated building while she fails to hide from him, only to be reassured when he does something that sparks recognition that its him. Funny thing is though, Kasper can't talk. Couldn't for years from the modifications (he's like one of the Combine Soldiers in that regard, junk rammed through his throat and body absolutely wiped clean). There is one thing Kasper keenly knows what to do for this. It's sign language.

Back in school, one of the things Lise taught Kasper was sign language. To be honest, Kas thought nothing of it at the time. He was technically forced to learn it. But he liked Lise's odd teaching so it kind of worked out.

Anyway, Lise takes in Kasper. Not necessarily like some dumb adoption or other found family nonsense. Kas is like in his late twenties, was literally in college when shit hit the fan, while Lise is in her late thirties/early forties. Taking in Kas is a process in and of itself. For one, she's literally commandeering the enemy, Kas technically is still viewed as a tool for the outsiders. Two, she has no idea if its actually Kas because he's tailored head to toe with padded armor and no voice to speak but she just hopes in a way it truly is him. Three, she has to talk to the current group she's with about it; technically just her, her old buddy from work, some robot she found in a parking lot, and lab rat of sort. A small group nonetheless. Last task isn't hard to do but the walking tin can of a robot despises her for it. Though, to be honest, he's always hated her (if I go into details about their dynamic this would be like 1k words later but lets just say they were siblings in a previous life <3).

Okay with that out of the way, I wanna say this; imagine feeling so out of place in a world you hardly recognize. What do you do?

To Lise, it's simple. Learn everything you can and adapt.

To Kasper, it's a hard and yet, to him it should feel easy. He wishes it was. He wants attainment. Whatever that might be, he doesn't know. For now he just kinda wanders the line of being there and not being there. Lise is like an anchor to him, a sad anchor but a good one nonetheless.

Thinking back to that post I reblogged talking about certain dynamics. Lise and Kas are like "I'd destroy the world to protect you" but in like a child, grown in harsh, cold environment trying to protect its mother type beat. Whereas Lise is like "I hate everyone but I love you more than anything" core. She literally does not care for people or things or anything, she is very cold at times not even gonna lie. Kas is like one of the, if not, only people she treats in high regard and yet, Kas would probably destroy any ounce of himself for her.

Funnily enough, both have the mindset of "I hate everyone in this room except you" but in like very different fonts.

TLDR; Boy who loses everything finds comfort in someone he lost and can and will absolutely do anything for them even if that means losing himself even more, even if that means betraying his former teacher.

[azureeyenews]

Thanksgiving: Chapter 13

(TUMBLR EDITION EDITOR'S NOTE: I belatedly discovered that Tumblr does not maintain line breaks between the websites. I apologize for any previous difficulties making sense of what was going on that this caused. I will correct for it going forward, but I'm not going back and re-doing every single post so far.)

Kathy always wanted to be special. Which is weird, because your family basically owns the local county, and between politics and money she was already a local celebrity just by being born. For some people that's not enough. It's never enough.

You knock on her door, and are shortly invited in.

"It's so nice to see you again!" She exclaims, "I swear, it's like you vanished into some alternate dimension after you got banished from university. I didn't even know they COULD banish someone, I thought it was only expulsion."

"In my defense," you shrug, sheepishly, "I had no way of knowing that priest was a papal legate when I-"

"Oof," she winces, "yeah, the inquisition was pretty lenient, all things considered. Anyway, what brought you home after all these years?"

"Dad's invitation."

"What?" She raises an eyebrow, "That's... he WANTED you back? Are you sure you're talking about dear ol' Dad? The man who blames you for the death of his oldest and still mourned son? Who watched you drown his ex-boyfriend?" You show her the note. "Well I'll be damned! Or you."

"Yeah, I suspect it's the latter," you admit, "I'm pretty sure I'm getting offered up to the spook on Thanksgiving."

"Oh, did you finally find out about that? Took you long enough. I had a bet with Bronwyn you wouldn't before you got possessed. I suppose I lose."

"I don't suppose," you ask, "you'd know any way to NOT get my soul ripped out of my body and hurled head-long into eternity?"

"Again, oof," And again, she winces, "Sorry, but as far as I know the rules are A) be alive, and B) be the oldest living descendant. Which means you."

"Well, what if I just leave?" You... actually don't know why this hadn't occurred to you, before now.

"I have, darling, absolutely no idea. By all means, go! I love you, truly, but I'd be okay with you never coming back if you were safe.-

"-But that said, if you need help? I am not the one to ask. I am, as dear daddy describes it, a 'useless socialite' who's only kept around because I can manage some of the smaller businesses while the real boss is busy. You want eldritch knowledge? Ask someone else."

You wish your sister a goodnight, and then go down to do something you should have done as soon as your mom's grave was desecrated- you leave. Or you try to, anyway, at which point you discover that leaving the front gate puts you in the forest in the back, by the graveyard.

A bit of experimentation later & you map out that you are quite trapped on the grounds. You have been very thoroughly cursed. Swearing at yourself, you run through everything that's happened, trying to work out who cursed you and when. You saw Father... huh. When DID you see Dad?

You remember that he was angry. Furious. That he's dying of consumption. You remember him being there. But... but you haven't actually SEEN him, have you? What the hell? Has he been holed up in his room this whole time? Then how did you talk with him? You KNOW you did.

You mentally add a note to look into that later, and decide to go back inside. It's getting cold out, and there's other siblings left to talk to. You decide to go see:

[yourfriendanniefish]

looking at my absurdly kept playlists of "songs i am listening to," (which i guess when put that way isn't that weird, that's just what people do, it's just that i've been depressed and/or upset for so long that all these playlists have gathered an absurd amount of totemic pull), and seeing that it was early january 2020 when i was listening to tally brown's "heroes," nico's "heroes," and this "heroes." it's so funny to remember how hopeful i was in january 2020. new year, my 33rd birthday, a year that promised change— i was going to "leave new mexico," i was going to leave my abuser, i was going to "heal" and do so much good for myself and everything was going to be great! and then it was the 2020 we all got and yeah, i did leave my abuser, but it was on Big Virus's terms and not entirely my own and the whole thing, instead of some triumphant gathering of my own power, became a mess, a mess of trash and yelling, a mess of ugly days making it somehow impossible for me to ever forget.

but before all that there was me, listening to three different covers of "heroes," and then eventually i made my own cover of "heroes," one of the most deranged recordings i ever made, because i was deranged then, because everyone was deranged then.

this is absolutely the weakest of the three covers of "heroes" i was listening to. but there's this strange charm there. there's the way she pronounces "i will be queen" as "aye will be quen," or that popped bass line. there's the chucking guitar in the end, there's the eerie way the descending riff haunts this synth-pop song. or there's their big addition to it— their own synth line, one that's not quite triumphant, but ascends in rebuttal of the song.

"heroes" is not a happy song. or, i guess it is. on most days, it's about being strong in the face of something, right? and yes, there's a certain obviousness to me, in early 2020, realizing i was living in hell but surviving it because i was beginning to see a way out of it, listening to "heroes" over and over because it was a song that implied strength and so i could steal a little bit of it's strength.

big ben tribe's "heroes" is blank. it's just a danceable trifle (a beautiful trifle! but a trifle) that shares the words. it was a good break from feeling dour.

nico's "heroes" rips and rocks, desecrates the song a little bit, which i always appreciate in bowie covers. it cuts the emotion out, replaces it with a detached danger, it's like someone watching a bar fight (and what else is living with an emotionally abusive alcoholic other than watching a bar fight?), a fucked up play by play of something. i love it, even if everyone knows how shitty nico was in real life now and i'm probably not supposed to admit i still listen to this.

tally brown's is obviously the best version of the song, probably better than david's, honestly, but that kind of requires the knowledge of david's version to understand. it's like the difference between (this is for the real bowie heads) the buddha of suburbia version and the outside version of "strangers when we meet." the latter's sung like an old friend, like someone checking in on someone they haven't seen in a while.

anyways, tally's is best because of that kind of lived-in quality. there's the darkly funny "i, i can be a bitch / so you stay stoned all the time," but there's there's the resignation in it that really stings. it's a defiant one, it's like, painting the moment of resignation, the final realization that "oh no, it will always be like this."

and that— "oh no, it will always be like this"— ain't that the feeling of the last nearly three years? ain't that the feeling of watching this tv show wind down? ain't that the way that waking up feels in winter? ain't that what "heroes" is really singing around.

it feels like, everyday, that whatever stage of life we're in now (okay, maybe it's me, maybe it's the stage i'm in), feels like the day after we were heroes. it's a dark next day. the shame was there on the other side, but then we crossed over anyways. we're back in the shame. what you say.

[pumpkinpaix]

Pleeeeeeease get into the class one at some point because I very much want to understand the class dynamics happening in the story but I have yet to find a meta that dives into it

god anon you want me dead don’t you alsjdfljks

referring to this post

okay, so -- my specific salt about class interpretations in mdzs are very targeted. I can’t pretend to have a deep understanding of how class works in mdzs generally because uhhhhh yeah i don’t think i have that. i’m just not familiar enough with the genre and/or the particulars of chinese class systems. but! i can talk in general terms as to why I feel a certain way about the class dynamics that I do think I understand and how I think they relate to the themes of the novel! i’m gonna talk about wei wuxian, the daozhangs, xue yang, and 3zun with, I’m sure, a bunch of digressions along the way.

the usual disclaimers: i do not think you are a bad person if you hold opinions contrary to my own. i may disagree with you very strongly, but like. this isn’t a moral judgment, fandom is transformative and interpretive etc. etc. and i may change my mind. who knows what the future will bring!

OKAY so let’s begin!

here’s the thing about wei wuxian: he’s not poor. I think because characters use “son of a servant” kind of often when they’re trying to insult him, a lot of people latch onto that and think that it’s a much stronger indication of his societal status than it actually is. iirc, most of the insults that fall along the “son of a servant” line come after wei wuxian starts breaking severely from tradition. it’s a convenient thing to attack him for, but doesn’t actually indicate anything about his wealth. (exception: yu ziyuan, but that’s a personal familial issue) this is in direct contrast to jin guangyao who is constantly mocked for his family line, publicly and privately, no matter what he does.

so this, coupled with all the jokes about wwx never having any money (wei wuqian, sizhui’s “i’ve long since known you had no money” etc.), plus his like, rough years on the street as a child ends up producing this interpretation of wei wuxian, especially in modern aus, as someone who is very class conscious and “eat the rich”. but the fact of the matter is, wei wuxian IS rich. aside from the years in his childhood and the last two years of his life in yiling, like -- wei wuxian had money and status. he is gentry. he is respected as gentry. he is treated as a son by the sect leader of yunmeng jiang -- he does not have the jiang name, but it is so very clear that jiang fengmian favors him. wei wuxian is ranked fourth of all the eligible young masters in the cultivation world -- that is not a ranking he could have attained without being accepted into the upper class.

wei wuxian’s poverty does not affect him in the way that it affects jin guangyao or xue yang. he is of low-ish birth (still the son of jiang fengmian’s right hand man though! ok sure, “son of a servant” but like. >_> whatever anyways), but for most of his life he had money. he, jiang cheng, and their sect brothers go into town and steal lotus pods with the understanding that “jiang-shushu will pay for it”. this is a regular thing! that’s fucking rich kid behavior!!! wei wuxian is careless with money because he doesn’t have to worry about it. he still has almost all the benefits of being upper class: education, food security, respect, recognition etc. I think there may also be a misconception that wei wuxian was always on the verge of being kicked out by yu ziyuan, or that he was constantly walking on eggshells around her for fear of being disowned, but that is just textually untrue. i could provide receipts, but I admittedly don’t really feel like digging them up just now ;;

even in his last years in yiling, he was not the one who was dealing with the acute knowledge of poverty: wen qing is the one managing the money, and as far as we know, wei wuxian did little to no management of daily life during the burial mounds days -- mostly, he’s described as hiding in his cave for days on end, working on his inventions, running around like a force of chaos, frivolously making a mess of things -- it’s very very cute that he buries a’yuan in the dirt, but in classic wei wuxian fashion, he did Not think about the practical consequences of it -- that A’Yuan has no other clean clothes, and now he’s gotten this set dirty and has no intention of washing them. is this a personality thing? yeah, but I think it’s also indicative of his lack of concern over the logistics of everyday survival, re: wealth.

furthermore, i think it is important to remember that wei wuxian, when he is protecting the wen remnants, is not protecting common folk: he is still protecting gentry. fallen gentry, yes! but gentry nonetheless. wen qing was favored by wen ruohan, and wen ning himself says that he has a retinue of people under his command (the remnants, essentially). their branch of the family do not have the experience of living and growing in poverty -- they are impoverished and persecuted in their last years, but that’s a very different thing from being impoverished your whole life. (sidenote: I do not believe wei wuxian’s primary motivation for defending the wen remnants was justice -- i believe he did it because he felt he owed wen ning and wen qing a life debt, and once he was there, he wasn’t going to stand around and let the work camps go on. yes, he is concerned about justice and doing the right thing, but that’s not why he went in the first place. anyways, that’s another meta)

after wei wuxian returns, he then marries back into gentry, and very wealthy gentry at that. lwj provides him all the money he could ever want, he is never worried about going homeless, starving, being denied opportunities based on his class and accompanying disadvantages. who would dare? and neither wei wuxian nor lan wangji seem to have much interest in shaking up the order of things, except in little things like the way they teach the juniors. they live in gusu, under the auspices of the lan, and they live a happy, domestic life.

were his years on the street traumatizing? yes, of course they were, there’s so much delicious character exploration to be done re: wei wuxian’s relationship to food, his relationship to his own needs, and his relationship to the people he loves. it’s all important and good! but I feel very strongly that that experience, while it was formative for him, did not impart any true understanding of poverty and the common person’s everyday struggles, nor do I think he ever really gains that understanding. he is observant and canny and aware of class and blood, certainly, but not in a way that makes it his primary hill to die on (badum-tss).

this is in very stark contrast to characters like jin guangyao and xue yang, and to some extent, xiao xingchen and song lan. I’ll start with the daozhangs, because I think they’re the simplest (??).

I think both xiao xingchen and song lan have class consciousness, but in a very simplified, broad-strokes kind of way (at least, given the information we know about them). we know that the two of them share similar values and want to one day form their own sect that gives no weight to the nobility of your lineage and has no concern with your wealth. we also know that they both disdain intersect politics and are more concerned with ideals and principles rather than status. but, I think because of that, this actually somewhat limits their perception and understanding of how status is used to oppress. as far as we know, neither of them participated on any side in sunshot and they demonstrate much more interest in relating to the commoners. honestly, i hc that they were flitting around trying to help decimated towns, protecting defenseless villages etc. I ALSO think this has a lot of interesting potential in terms of xiao xingchen and wei wuxian’s relationship, if xiao xingchen is ever revived. regardless of whether you’re in CQL or novel verse, xiao xingchen really doesn’t know wei wuxian at all, other than knowing that he’s his shijie’s son. he knows that cangse-sanren met with a tragic end, like yanling-daoren before her, and that he wants to be different. but here is cangse-sanren’s son, laying waste to entire cities, desecrating the dead. I would very much like to get into xiao xingchen’s head during that period of time (and i think, if i do it right, i can write some of it into the songxiao fixit), but that’s neither here nor there, because i’ve wandered off from my point again.

i would posit that song lan is used to an ascetic lifestyle, and xiao xingchen probably is too -- but that’s different from poverty because there’s an element of choice to it. I also think that neither of them is particularly worldly, xiao xingchen especially. he lived on an isolated mountain until he was like, seventeen, and he came down full of ideals and naivete about how the world worked. I think that both of them see inequality, that they are angered by it, and that they want to do something about it -- but their solution is neither to topple the sects, nor is it to reform the system. rather, it seems to be more about withdrawing and creating their own removed world. I think that the daozhangs embody a kind of utopianism that isn’t present in the minds of any of the other characters, not even wangxian. honestly, baoshan-sanren’s mountain is a utopian ideal, but one that is not described. it exists outside of and beyond the world. i have a lot of jumbled, vague thoughts about utopianism generally, mostly informed by china miéville and ursula k. le guin, and I don’t think i have the ability to articulate them here, but i wanted to. hm. say something? there is something about the inherent dystopianism contained within every utopia, that utopias are necessary, but also reflections of the existence of terrible things in their conception. idk. there’s something in there, I know it!! but i suppose what I want to say is -- i do not think the daozhangs understand class and social hierarchy very deeply because they don’t see a need to examine it deeply. for their goals, the details aren’t the point. they’re not looking to reform within the system, they’re looking to build something outside of it. I think they spend a lot of time concerned with alleviating the symptoms of social oppression, and their values reflect the injustices they witness there.

regardless, even if their story ends in tragedy and there is a certain amount of critique re: the utopian approach, i think the text still emphasizes that xiao xingchen left a utopia and that he thought that people mattered enough for him to try, and that was an incredibly honorable, kind, and human thing to do.

YEAH SURE THE DAOZHANGS ARE THE SIMPLEST ok ok RETURNING to class and moving forward: xue yang.

i also don’t think xue yang has class consciousness lol, or not in any way that really matters, but I do think poverty impacted him in a much stronger way than it impacted wei wuxian. wei wuxian spent some years on the street as a child. xue yang grew up on the streets. chang ci’an’s horrific treatment of him was directly due to his class and social standing: chang ci’an is a nobleman and xue yang is not even worth the dirt beneath the wheels of his cart. what I think is the seminal point though, is that this does not make xue yang think particularly deeply about systemic injustice, because xue yang is so self-centered, self-driven, and individualistic. he is not even slightly concerned about how poverty and class might affect other people -- they’re other people. what he takes away from his experience is not an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a system, but an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a specific man.

xue yang is not particularly concerned with the politics of the aristocracy -- he has no obvious ambitions other than, “i want to eat sweets whenever i please”, “i want to hurt anyone who wrongs me”, and “i want to be so strong that no one can hurt me”. like, he just doesn’t care -- it’s not the kind of power he wants. he sneers at people for like, personal reasons, not class reasons -- “you think you’re better than me” re: xiao xingchen and song lan. to him, all people -- poor, wealthy, noble, common -- are essentially equal, and they are all beneath him. after all, what does he care what family someone comes from, how much money they have? everyone bleeds when you cut them. some of them might be harder to get to than others, but xue yang does not fear that sort of thing. it’s just another obstacle he needs to vault on his way to getting revenge and/or a pastry.

ANYWAYS onto jin guangyao (wow this is hm. getting rather long ahaha oh dear): I would argue that the two characters with the most acute understanding of class/societal politics and the injustice of them are jin guangyao and lan xichen. i’ll start with jin guangyao for obvious reasons.

where xue yang took the damaging effects of poverty as personal slights, I think jin guangyao is painfully aware that there is nothing personal about them, which is, in some ways, much worse. why are two sons, born on the same day to the same father, treated so differently? just because.

he watched his mother struggle and starve and work herself to the bone in a profession where she was constantly disrespected and abused for almost nothing in return, while his father could have lifted her out of poverty with the wave of a finger. why didn’t he? because he didn’t like her? no -- because he didn’t care, and the structures of the society they live in protect that kind of blase treatment of the lower class.

“so my mother couldn’t choose her own fate, is that her fault?” jin guangyao demands. he knows that he is unbelievably talented, that he has ambition, that he has potential, and that all of it is beyond his grasp just because his father didn’t want to bother with it. his mother’s life was destroyed, and his own opportunities were crippled with that negligence. it isn’t personal. that’s just the way things are. your individual identity is meaningless, your humanity does not exist. when he’s kicked down the steps of jinlin tai, it’s just more confirmation that no matter how talented or hardworking he is, no one will give him the time of day unless he finds a way to take it himself and become someone who “matters”.

jin guangyao’s cultivation is weak because he had a poor foundation, and he had a poor foundation because he was denied access to a good one. he copies others because that’s all he can do at this point, and he copies so well that he can hold his own against some of the strongest cultivators of his generation. he’s disparaged for copying and “stealing” techniques, but -- he never would have had to if only he had been born/accepted into the upper class. the fact is that i really do think jin guangyao was the most promising cultivator of his generation that we meet, including the twin jades and wei wuxian: he had natural talent, ambition, creativity, determination and cunning in spades. in some ways, I think that’s one of the overlooked tragedies of jin guangyao: the loss of not just the good man he could have been, but the powerful one too. imagine what he could have done.

jin guangyao spends his entire time in the world of the aristocracy feeling unsteady and terrified because he knows exactly how precarious his position is. he knows how easy it is to lose power, especially for someone like him. he’s working against so many disadvantages, and every scrap of honor he gets is a vicious battle. jin guangyao fears, and I think that’s something that’s lacking in xue yang, wei wuxian and the daozhangs’ experiences/understandings of poverty. i think it’s precisely that fear that emphasizes jin guangyao’s understanding of class and blood. jin guangyao exhibits an anxiety that neither wei wuxian nor xue yang do, and it’s because he truly knows how little he is worth in the eyes of society and how little there is he can do to change that. to me, it very much feels related to the anxiety of not knowing if tomorrow you’ll have something to eat, if tomorrow you’ll still have a home, if tomorrow someone will destroy you and never have to answer for it. it’s the anxiety of knowing helplessness intimately.

moreover, jin guangyao is the only person shown to use the wealth and power at his disposal to take concrete steps to actually help the common people typically ignored by the powerful -- the watchtowers. they’re described in chapter 42. it’s a system that is designed to cover remote areas that most cultivators are reluctant to go due to their inconvenience and the lack of means of the people who live there. the watchtowers assign cultivators to different posts, give aid to those previously forgotten, and if the people are too poor to pay what the cultivators demand, the lanling jin sect pays for it. jin guangyao worked on this for five years and burned a lot of bridges over it. people were strongly opposed to it, thinking that it was some kind of ploy for lanling jin’s personal benefit. but the thing is -- it worked. they were effective. people were helped.

i believe CQL frames the watchtowers as an allegory for a surveillance state/centralized control (i think?? it’s been a minute -- that’s the hazy impression i remember, something like a parallel to the wen supervisory offices?), but I personally don’t think that was the intent in the novel. the watchtowers are a public good. lanling jin doesn’t staff them with their own sect members -- they get nearby sects to staff them. it’s a warning network that they fund that’s supposed to benefit everyone, even those that everyone had considered expendable.

(did jin guangyao do terrible things to achieve this goal? yeah lol. it’s not confirmed, but his son sure did die... suspiciously...... at the hands of an outspoken critic of the watchtowers........ whom he then executed....... so like, maybe just a convenient coincidence for jin guangyao, two birds one stone, but. it seems. Unlikely.)

lan xichen is the only member of the gentry that ever shows serious compassion for and nuanced understanding of jin guangyao’s circumstances. lan xichen treats him as his equal regardless of jin guangyao’s current status -- even when he was meng yao, lan xichen treated him as a human being worthy of respect, as someone with great merits, as someone he would choose as a friend, but he did so knowing full well the delicate position meng yao occupied. this is in direct contrast to nie mingjue, who also believed that meng yao was worthy of respect as a human being, but was completely unable to comprehend the complexities of his circumstances and unwilling to grant him any grace. you know, the difference between “i acknowledge that your birth and status have had effects upon you, but I don’t think less of you for it” and “i don’t consider your birth and status at all when i interact with you because i think it is irrelevant” (“i don’t see color” anyone?)

to illustrate, from chapter 48:

大抵是觉得娼妓之子身上说不定也带着什么不干净的东西，这几名修士接过他双手奉上来的茶盏后，并不饮下，而是放到一边，还取出雪白的手巾，很难受似的，有意无意反复擦拭刚才碰过茶盏的手指。聂明玦并非细致之人，未曾注意到这种细节，魏无羡却用眼角余光扫到了这些。孟瑶视若未见，笑容不坠半分，继续奉茶。蓝曦臣接过茶盏之时，抬眸看他一眼，微笑道：“多谢。”

旋即低头饮了一口，这才继续与聂明玦交谈。旁的修士见了，有些不自在起来。

rough tl:

Probably because they believed that the son of a prostitute might also carry some unclean things upon his person, after these few cultivators took the teacups offered from [Meng Yao’s] two hands, they did not drink, but instead put them to one side, and furthermore brought out snow white handkerchiefs. Quite uncomfortably, and whether they were aware of it or not, they repeatedly wiped the fingers they had just used to touch the teacups. Nie Mingjue was not a detail-oriented person and never took note of such particulars, but Wei Wuxian caught these in the corner of his eye. Meng Yao appeared as if he had not seen, his smile unwavering in the slightest, and continued to serve tea. When Lan Xichen took the teacup, he glanced up at him and, smiling, said, “Thank you.”

He immediately dipped his head to take a sip, and only then continued to converse with Nie Mingjue. Seeing this, the nearby cultivators began to feel somewhat uneasy.

all right, since we’re in full cyan-rampaging-through-the-weeds mode at this point, i’m going to talk about how this is one of my favorite 3zun moments in the entire novel for characterization purposes because it really highlights how they all relate to one another, and to what degree each of them is aware of their own position in relation to the others and society as a whole.

1. nie mingjue, who is a forthright and blunt person, sets meng yao to serving tea and is done with it. he notices nothing wrong or inappropriate about the reactions of the people in the room because it’s not the sort of thing he considers important.

2. meng yao, knowing that his only avenue is to take it lying down with a smile, masks perfectly.

3. lan xichen, noticing all this, uses his own reputation to achieve two things at once: pointedly shame the other cultivators in attendance, and show meng yao that regardless of others’ opinions, he considers him an equal and does not endorse such behavior--and he does it while taking care that no fallout will come down on meng yao’s head.

is this yet another installment of cyan’s endless lxc defense thesis? why yes it is! no one is surprised! but this is my whole point: both meng yao and lan xichen understand the respective hierarchy and power dynamics within the room, while nie mingjue very much does not. this is not because nie mingjue is a bad person or because nie mingjue is stupid--it’s a combination of personality and upbringing. nie mingjue is straightforward and has no patience for such games. but then again, he can afford not to play because he was born into such a high position: that’s a privilege.

to break it down: meng yao knows that he is the lowest-ranked person in the room, sees the way people are subtly disrespecting him in full view of his general who is doing nothing about it. in some ways, this is good -- nie mingjue’s style of dealing with conflict is very direct and not at all suited to delicate political maneuvering. after all, the way he promoted meng yao was actually quite dangerous to meng yao: he essentially guaranteed that his men would bear meng yao a grudge and that their disrespect for him would only be compounded by their bitterness at being punished on his behalf. (it’s like, why often getting parents or teachers to intervene ineffectively in bullying can just be an incitement to more bullying -- same concept) meng yao’s reaction during that scene shows that he’s pretty painfully aware of this and is trying to defuse the situation to no avail. nie mingjue gives him a bootstrap speech (rip nie mingjue i love u so much but. sir) and then promotes him, which is pretty much the only saving grace of that entire exchange, for meng yao at least.

lan xichen, on the other hand, understands both that meng yao is the lowest-ranked person in the room and that any direct attempt to chastise the other cultivators in the room will only serve to hurt meng yao in the long run. he knows that if this were brought to nie mingjue’s attention, he would be outraged and not shy about it -- also bad for meng yao. so he uses what he has: his immaculate reputation. by acting contrary to the other cultivators’ behavior, he demonstrates that he finds their actions unacceptable but with the plausible deniability that it wasn’t directed at them, that this is just zewu-jun being his usual generous self. this means that the other cultivators have no one to blame but themselves, nothing to do but question their own actions. there is nowhere to cast off their discomfort. meng yao didn’t do anything. lan xichen didn’t do anything -- he just thanked meng yao and drank his tea, isn’t that what it’s there for? he doesn’t disrupt the peace, he doesn’t attack anyone and put them on the defensive, but he does make his position very clear.

i know this is a really small thing and i’m probably beating it to death, but I really think this shows just how cognizant lan xichen is of politics and emotional cause and effect in such situations. certainly, out of context I think the scene reads kind of cliche, but within the greater narrative of the story and within the arc of these characters specifically, I think it was a really smart scene to include. it also showcases lan xichen’s style of action: that he moves around and with a problematic situation as opposed to moving straight through.

not to be salty on main again, but this is why it’s very frustrating to me when I see people call lan xichen passive when he is anything but. his actions just don’t look like traditional “actions”, especially to an american audience. it’s easy to understand lan wangji and wei wuxian’s style of problem-solving: taking a stand, moving through, staying strong. lan xichen is juggling an inconceivable number of factors in any given situation, weighing his responsibilities in one role against those in another, and then trying to find the path through the thicket that will cause the least harm, both to himself and the thicket. lan wangji and wei wuxian are not particularly good at considering the far-reaching consequences of their actions -- again, not because they are bad people, but because of a combination of personality and upbringing. they’d just hack through the thicket, not thinking about the creatures that live in it. that is not a terrible thing! it isn’t. it’s a different way of approaching a problem, and it has different priorities. that’s okay. there are advantages and disadvantages on both sides, and where you come down is going to depend on your personal values.

okay we’ve spiraled far and away from my original point, but let’s circle back: i was talking about class.

I think it’s undeniable that class, birthright, fate etc. are some of the driving forces of thematic conflict in mdzs, and the way each character interacts with those forces reveals a lot about themselves and also about the larger themes of fate, chance, and what it means to be righteous and good and how that is and isn’t rewarded. a lot of the tragedy of mdzs (the tragedy that isn’t caused by direct aggression on the part of one group or another) stems from the injustices and slights that people suffered due to their lot in life. it isn’t fair. none of it is fair! we sympathize with jin guangyao because we recognize that what he suffered was unconscionable, even if we don’t excuse him. i sympathize A Lot with xue yang as well for similar reasons, though I understand that’s a harder sell. this is a story focused on the mistakes of an entrenched, aging gentry and the effects that those mistakes had on their children, and a lot of it has to do with prejudice based in class and birth status. whether the prejudice was the true reason or whether it was just a convenient excuse, the fact remains that the systems in place rewarded and protected the people in power who used it to cling to that power. mdzs is also a story of how the circumstances of one’s life can offer you impossible choices that you cannot abstain from, and it asks us to be compassionate to the people who made terrible choices in terrible times. it’s about the inherent complexity in all things! that sometimes, there are no good choices, and i don’t know, i’d like to think that people would show me compassion if I had to make the choices some of these characters did. not just wei wuxian, mind you, every single one of them. except jin guangshan because I Do Hate Him sorry. and i guess wen ruohan. i think that’s it.

good. GOD this is clocking in at //checks notes -- just over 5k. 8′D *stuffs some weeds into my mouth like the clown i am*

(ko-fi? :’D *lies down*)

[zealous-whispers-of-us-redux]

homecoming

(A/N: I tweaked an old, unposted [on this blog] fic of mine for @multi-stann and her 1k writing event. I picked the smut prompt: "Love the taste of you, but I need more.”) :)

Warning: demon sex and desecration in/of a church. Please don't read if that offends you!!

SMUT AHEAD

Intoxicating dreams. The feeling of her mouth around his cock. His teeth sinking into her plush bottom lip. Heat racketing up his spine until all he knew was her. Wrapping a hand around her neck and feeding on her pleasure as he fucked her. Taking anything and everything she would offer him. He missed her. He missed her.

He...

Bucky jolted awake in the confession booth. Sweat dripped down his face, and he could still feel the flames of Hell licking his skin. He was hard in his slacks. Crossing himself absently, Bucky muttered a few prayers under his breath because this was happening again. He knew what it all meant. He has been away for centuries, but his past was finally catching up to him. The more vivid the dreams, the closer she was to finding Bucky. And the closer she was to finding Bucky, the more his true nature rose within him as his body fought against the angels' invisible chains. Bucky was hungrier than he had been in a long time, but the runes on his skin made him unable to leave the church, let alone go out and feed.

He checked his watch, and as he expected, it read 3:17 a.m. Bucky's heart thumped excitedly in his chest. He knew that she knew where he was. Finally, she had found him, and she would rescue him from this hell. He opened the door to the confessional just as she blew into the church, stalking nearer and nearer until Bucky could take her in for the first time in years. She looked just as beautiful as he remembered- wild and passionate with eyes that glowed from within. With each step she took, the floor cracked underneath her feet. Crucifixes clattered to the ground, and the stained-glass window shattered, raining colored glass down onto both of them. The statue of the Virgin Mary cried, and she grinned.

"There you are," she said, and Bucky could not take his eyes off of her.

"You found me," he croaked in the language he never forgot, no matter how many beatings he took.

"You’ve been calling out to me for ages, but your jailers kept you well-hidden. Even my father couldn't see you."

"They summoned me," said Bucky bitterly. "They summoned me, an' they stole me as a barginin' chip."

"If they think they can stop this, they're wrong. It is only the beginning. My father has gathered his troops. I asked him to wait until I found you. Lord Belial wasn't happy with me, but I came for you anyway. "

Bucky squirmed at the innuendo, his gaze dropping to her mouth. His stomach rumbled, and she must have heard it because she smiled. He reached out for her, and she threw herself into his arms. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, breathing her in.

“You do remember me, don't you?” she asked, sounding vulnerable in a way he would never expect.

“How could I ever forget my baby?" Bucky asked.

"How come you haven't left this church if you remember me?"

"The runes." He gestured to the symbols carved into his skin. "I can't leave."

"You can leave if the angels who created the runes are dead."

"What did you do?"

"They gambled away their vessels, and I burnt them to a crisp," she said, baring her teeth. "It was a fitting punishment, Father said. If they thought they could take away what is mine, they were wrong if they thought they could hurt you without retribution. They deserve worse than what I gave them."

"You-"

"You're free, Bucky," she said firmly, placing her hands against his cheeks. "What will you do now?"

Bucky kissed her, and it was like slipping a key into a lock. He had forgotten almost everything about his old life, except for her, but she saved him and was now giving everything back. He vividly remembered Hell again, remembered how it was not as dreadful as the angels brainwashed him into believing it was. It was his home. It was hellhounds and halls of crystals glittering in the low lamplight. It was decadent food that demons didn't need but ate anyway. It was her naked in his bed, waiting for him to return from corrupting souls on Earth. It was sex all the time, whenever Bucky wanted. She was as insatiable as he was.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“It's been so long,” Bucky replied, pawing at her greedily. “I need ya right the fuck now. I'm starvin.'”

“Remember when we fucked in that church in Romania? Right under the statue of their precious Mary?” she asked.

“Hell, I’ve missed you."

As they kissed again, Bucky felt her heating up under his hands until tendrils of flame erupted from her skin. She pulled back, and Bucky saw her eyes alight with hellfire. He gathered her closer with a groan, knowing he would never get burned. She kissed him again, clawing at his hair as she swung herself into his lap. The confession booth swayed dangerously, but both ignored it. Bucky sunk his teeth in her bottom lip, and she snarled, scraping her nails over his scalp in retaliation. They pulled apart to blink at one another, then she dove to take off Bucky's shirt. Her fingers burned his skin so good, leaving red streaks that would fade quickly. Bucky could feel it crawling under his skin again, the hunger for sex that he hadn’t felt in ages. He wanted; he wanted to feed off of her pleasure and make her scream.

“I see those pretty black eyes,” she said, drawing Bucky’s gaze from her bare chest. “I knew they wouldn’t succeed.”

“Missed you,” Bucky growled, sucking her jaw so fiercely that he drew blood, “Take yer panties off for me.”

“Ask me nicely.”

She dug her nails into his pecs- a warning. Bucky rolled his eyes as he carried her out of the confessional and into a booth.

“Please take off yer panties. Sweetheart,” he said.

“Okay, darling, whatever you say," she replied.

“Disgusting. Don't ever call me that again. An' take your fuckin' panties off, huh?"

“You're such a dick."

"Hey, leave me alone! It's been two hundred years."

She shoved Bucky’s shoulder, trying to push him off of her enough so that she could wiggle out of her bottoms. Bucky ignored her unspoken command. He grabbed her wrists and slammed her arms over her head.

“Keep ‘em there," he said.

“How am I expected to take my underwear off? Think things through, will you?” she said.

“Yer bein’ unusually bratty today.” Bucky wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. “Ain’t had anyone put you in yer place for a while, I guess.”

“Oh, please. My father is one of the seven kings of Hell. If anything, you should submit to me. I remember how much you liked it when I made you beg at my feet like a hound."

“It's been decades since I’ve had ya underneath me. Now that I have ya, I ain’t just gonna give that up so willingly. Stop bein’ a brat."

“For Baal's sake, just do something instead of talking about it."

“No swearin’, we’re in church,” Bucky said. “An’ keep yer arms above yer head. No touchin.’”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“An’ shut that mouth a’ yours too. You don’t want me to gag ya, do you?”

"Who the fuck has been going around and telling lies saying I wouldn't like that?" she asked with a smile.

Bucky softened. He knew he was probably looking at her like a dumbass, but she was so beautiful and here for the first time in a long time. Bucky wouldn't want his first feeding session in centuries to be with anyone else. If a beast like him could love, he was sure he would love her.

"Missed you," Bucky said softly, tucking his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and stuffing them in her mouth. "So much."

"Missed you too," she mumbled.

"Did you make 'em suffer?"

"You know I did. They hurt you."

She said everything he needed to know in just seven words. His hunger overwhelmed him, and Bucky blacked out until all he could see was her. Flames tickled him as Bucky leaned down to kiss a fiery trail down her stomach. She growled at him in an ancient tongue, and the foundations of the church shook at her words. The statue of Mary cracked in two the louder her words got, but Bucky ignored it, not content on just eating her out- he wanted her screaming. But she was a hard one to please. Bucky could rarely get her to scream when he ate her out, no matter the amount of coaxing he tried.

"Love the taste of you, but I need more," he said, his tongue flicking over her clit. "We still gotta topple that statue."

"Come up here and fuck me. It's been so long."

Bucky left the plush comfort of her thighs and made his way up her body, pressing kisses along the way.

"I know it has, babe," he said, kissing her forehead in a display of comfort that they were both unaccustomed to. "But I’m here now, an’ nothin’ can pull me away from ya again, you hear me?”

"I'll kill anyone who tries," she said.

Bucky grinned sharply. "That's my girl."

"Not yours," she countered.

"No?"

He reached down and drew her legs up around his waist. She locked her ankles together, holding him there so tight he could not move, not even to get inside her. He growled, trying to break free.

"I'm not yours," she repeated.

"If you fuckin' think for one second you ain't mine, you're wrong."

"I'm a fucking demon. No one owns me."

"Never said 'owns.' I said mine. Now, you gonna lemme fuck you or not?"

"No. How is it different?"

Bucky groaned, dropping his head onto her chest. He pressed a few kisses at her breast, bit her nipple.

"C'mon, gimme a break. I'm starvin.'"

"No, not until you tell me."

"Fuck's sake. You're mine, an' I'm yours, okay? An' I don't wanna feed on anyone else, ever again. You're enough for me."

"Okay."

"You don't have to reciprocate."

"I put a war on hold, and I killed three angels to find you," she said flatly.

"Yeah," Bucky said, his vessel's heart fluttering. "You did."

She loosened her grip on Bucky, allowing him to slip inside her for the first time. His body shuddered in delight at feeling her again. He could taste her pleasure in the air, and his tongue flicked out to gather it from her lips as they kissed. Bucky knew he wasn't going to last long, but he would be (more) damned if he finished before she did.

"Come on, move," she said, her nails pricking his back.

The pace Bucky chose was brutal, and she moaned, arching her back. He remembered now the way she’d never utter more than a moan. No matter the amount of coaxing, Bucky could never make her scream. She had passed out from him fucking and feeding on her a few times, but even then, all he managed to get were a few calls of his name. It kept him desperate to please her even though she was the one feeding him.

"Go faster," she sighed, her head tipped back enough so that Bucky could get at her neck with his teeth.

"I gotcha, babe. Wan' my hand?"

"Yes, please."

Naturally, Bucky obliged. He wrapped one of his big hands around her neck, squeezing gently and then harder. Her mouth fell open against his as he fucked her, and they stayed like that, panting into each other's mouths. And Bucky wanted so much for someone to burst in and see them like this, see him fucking her into the ground and feeding off her desire.

He pulled out of her when he got an idea. She speared him with a glare, but he calmed her down, urging her to get to her hands and knees. Bucky smacked her ass, and she muffled a cry into her forearms. The flames on her skin burned hotter and hotter the more Bucky spanked her until sweat was pouring down his chest. He gathered her hair up in his hand and dragged her up from the floor, curling a possessive hand around her throat. Flames licked his skin wherever her body was pressed to his. Bucky could feel it rising within her, and he gasped at the taste of it after so long without. It was the best drug in the world.

"C'mon, rub your clit for me, and scream when you come. You know it makes it taste better," he demanded.

"Make it worth my while, and I will."

"You wan' it? I'll give it to you," Bucky said, squeezing her neck until she was gasping. "Now, come for me. Gimme it."

It only took a couple more sweeps of her fingers over her clit and a quick kiss from Bucky for her to come. He kissed her to muffle her screams, drinking her down, thirsty for everything she could give him. He continued fucking her through her orgasm, his eager pants ringing around the church.

"Again, again, gimme one more. So hungry, babe, you taste so good," Bucky panted.

It didn't take long for her to come again, and Bucky fed on her, moaning as he felt her slipping down his throat. He licked his lips and pushed himself entirely inside her, holding still until she triggered his own orgasm.

"That's a good girl," Bucky cooed, kissing her to get the last of her orgasm.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, looking upside down at him.

He snuggled closer. "Yeah."

"Are you pulling out or what?"

"Nah, wanna stay here for a minute or two. Missed this. So happy y'found me. You saved me."

"I always will," she said, scowling.

Bucky laughed, burying his face into her hair.

"How's Hell, anyway?"

"It's good. Will you come back with me?"

"I'll go anywhere you want me to."

"We'll get those runes off your skin."

"'Kay, but later. I'm still ravenous," said Bucky.

She grinned, all sharp teeth and fire in her eyes.

"Come on, then. Let's go to a real bed."

"Lead the way," said Bucky, flipping the bird toward the Mary statue that lay shattered on the ground.