#but then I want to do things that require less work

[beat-the-morning]

🖤Guitar Face || Hozier x Reader🖤

FULL FIC ON TUMBLR AFTER CUT || READ ON AO3

Rating: 18+ - Smut

Tags: Pre-Debut Hozier, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, vaginal sex, teasing, protected sex.

Summary: Andrew teaches you how to play guitar while you both try to ignore the very obvious and overwhelming sexual tension between you.

Word count: 5.4k

A/N: I’m back after a month of not posting (sorry lol) with a long fic to make up for lost time (yay) and to take our minds off of everything, really. When will I post my next fic, you ask? I don’t fucking know man, I’m just vibing. I do have a few ideas that I want to start, including a multichapter fic that will get written someday. Love you all, enjoy this pre-debut hozier fic💙

💙FULL FIC UNDER THE CUT💙

You needed a hobby, urgently. It was your second semester of your first year of university at Trinity College Dublin, and you had yet to find something to occupy your time that wasn’t studying, working, or just doing nothing with the group of friends that, despite your nervous and introverted nature, you had managed to form in your first semester. You were desperate for something new to do, a new skill or pastime to occupy you when all your friends were busy or simply when you felt like doing something other than hanging out with them.

The idea of learning guitar came to you after talking to one of your friends about your newfound need for a hobby, she mentioned that you had a great sense of rhythm and that you already really liked music, so why not pick up an instrument. She didn’t tell you to pick up guitar specifically, but it seemed like a good choice for learning in your spare time, and it’s not like you had the money to buy a keyboard or drums, much less a more classical instrument like a violin, a cello or a harp, and you already knew that you didn’t have the lungs for wind instruments.

You asked around your friend group if anyone had any suggestions for cheap guitars to buy, you got one that was moderately good and within your budget. You started to learn by yourself, the only thing was that you sucked, you barely understood the tutorials you found on youtube and didn’t even know if you were really doing it right, your fingers were sloppy and uncoordinated and you only angered yourself more and more with each note you got wrong. So, after two weeks and a half of frustration, you decided that maybe a guitar teacher wasn’t a bad idea, and that if that didn’t work you’d sell your guitar and pick up photography or something that didn’t require you to use your fingers as much.

It was Friday evening, and some members of Trinity Orchestra were having a small rehearsal/get together, and you knew your friend would be there since she was a pianist in the orchestra, so maybe she could help you learn guitar or at the very least find a teacher. You arrived at the get together when it was almost finished, you didn’t want to interrupt them, even if it wasn’t really a rehearsal, you felt out of place just by being there. Miranda, your friend, spotted you from her bench and beckoned you over to her, she’d been expecting you since you told her earlier that day that you’d go see her at the rehearsal, she was leaning on the closed piano, a half eaten bag of crisps sat on the cover of its keys. “I thought you’d come sooner, you missed the little concert.” She smiled.

“Nah, I’d rather not interrupt.” You smiled back, “anyway, what I wanted to talk about before you ran off today because of your horrible time manage skills-“

“-They’re not that bad, come on.” She pouted playfully, faking indignation.

“Bullshit.” You argued back, trying to hold in a laugh. “Now, do you know how to play guitar?”

“No, just piano, and the organ, kind of. Why?”

“I’ve been trying to learn how to play on my own but I can’t get the hang of it, I need a teacher or something.” You explained, trying to be quiet enough so that no one else would hear.

“Teacher for what?” A masculine voice asked from behind you, making you jump slightly in surprise. You turned around, a lanky guy with dorky glasses and a blonde fringe stood there, looking at you as he tried to guess who you were. “Have we met before?” He finally asked.

“I don’t think so,” you answered, a nervous smile on your face

“I’m Alex,” he smiled back to you, but his smile was more welcoming than anything else. You told him your name, and that you were a friend of Miranda, which prompted her to speak up.

“They’re trying to learn guitar,” she joined in. “Maybe you could help them?”

“Can’t, I’m drowning in coursework already, sorry,” Alex said earnestly, seeming genuinely sorry that he wasn’t able to help you learn how to play.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure I’ll find someone to teach me.” You assured him, relaxing a bit more now that you had spoken the slightest bit more to him.

“Andy could help you, though.” A smirk grew on his face, “he’s always looking for an excuse to not do his work.”

“Andrew’s a vocalist though isn’t he?” Miranda chimed in again.

“He does more things apart from singing, you know.” Answered Alex.

“I didn’t know he played guitar though, I’ve never seen him play it.” She argued.

“He does! He’s self taught though, so his has this weird way of playing where he-“

“Sorry, but, who’s Andrew?” You interrupted, needing some clarification as to who they were talking about.

“Right, you don’t know who he is,” Alex chuckled, “he’s that one over there.” He said, pointing over to a group of about five guys all chatting while standing around a table.

“Which one?” You asked, still not knowing who to look at.

“The tall one.” Alex and Miranda said in unison. Your eyes focused on him, a pale, lanky guy with dark, shaggy curls on his head and a 3 day stubble on his face and neck, he was at least half a head taller than the second tallest man in the conversation circle. He was smiling, his cheeks a rosy tone from how much he’d been laughing, his front teeth were slightly crooked from what you could see from a distance, and you noticed a pair of glasses in his left hand as your eyes trailed down his body, you assumed that they were his glasses with how he was holding them so close to his body. He was so cute, you thought to yourself, a bit of a nerd maybe but it’s not like you weren’t into it as well.

“Andy!” Alex’s call broke your train of thought, and maybe that was for the best, who knows where you were going to end up with those. Andrew turned to look at Alex, noticing Miranda sat on her seat, and then you, you could’ve sworn you saw him look you up and down as a small smirk formed on his face. Alex moved his arm to call him over, and he approached without hesitation, quickly walking over to the little group you were in.

Alex introduced you to each other and quickly explained your situation to Andrew, who agreed to teach you. You agreed on payment, how many times a week you’d meet, the whole thing, really, and then you exchanged numbers.

“If you want we can meet up tomorrow and we can start with the basics,” he suggested, putting on his glasses as he put your number in his phone. Fucking hell, he looked adorable with them on, you felt your cheeks heat up as you looked at him.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” you agreed without thinking, “I’ll send you my address and we can meet at my place if you want.”

“Sure,” he looked at you with a small smile. You decided on a time to meet and then went home for the night after saying goodbye to your friend.

You felt a nervous knot in your stomach as you laid down in your bed, the worry of making a fool of yourself in front of a cute guy was catching up on you. You shook those thoughts off, putting on some faint music before finally going to sleep.

You woke up the next day, looking at the clock on your bedside table only to find that it wasn’t actually morning, but past noon, almost 1pm in fact. You got ready for the day and had what could best be described as a big brunch before deciding to clean your apartment before Andrew arrived later in the day, something that you only remembered when you saw a message from him confirming that he had your address right. Why did you agree to this again? You cursed yourself as you cleaned up the small space you lived in, it was an attic converted into a studio apartment that was way too cheap for how big it was, but it’s not like you were going to complain.

Time passed as you finished cleaning your apartment, having just enough time to shower before Andrew arrived. You had just finished dressing up when your phone rang, you picked up to find Andrew on the other side of the line, asking you to open since the doorbell wasn’t working, so, taking your keys in your hand, you ran downstairs to open the front door for him. He was carrying a guitar case and what you assumed was a small amp, he wore a very simple outfit, a shirt and jeans with a brown leather jacket and some old tattered converse, but no glasses. “I like the jacket.” You said while guiding him towards the elevator.

“Thanks,” he smiled shyly, “I brought my electric guitar, I hope you don’t mind, my acoustic one has a broken string and I still need to replace it.”

“It’s fine, mine is electric too.” You smiled back.

You went into your apartment, he commented on the fact that it was a studio, and on the absence of a sofa. “The TV’s over there so I usually just put all my pillows on my bed and use it as a couch.” You explained, pointing out the TV on the wall next to the bed. Andrew laughed to himself, he mumbled something under his breath that you thought sounded like “that’s so fucking cute”. He sat on your bed, taking out his guitar and tuning it without even plugging it in to the amp.

You took out yours, tuning it as well with an app on your phone. You and Andrew talked for a bit, making jokes and breaking the tension before he explained the basics of guitar playing to you. You listened attentively and asked questions about the things you didn’t understand, he was a great teacher so far, and you could honestly listen to him speak for hours, his voice was lovely, no wonder Miranda said he was mainly a vocalist.

The time came to finally plug in the guitars, yours was already plugged to your amp, you just needed to turn it on, which you quickly did while Andrew set up his, he plugged the amp to the wall, grabbing the cable to plug it into his guitar, he wasn’t paying much attention to it though, his mind was somewhere else. While his head was, in fact, pointing down towards the guitar, his eyes were mostly looking up at you through his brows, using his curls as a shield so you wouldn’t notice him staring. His hand faltered, the jack circled the plug it was supposed to go in, making some magnetic noises come from the amplifier, you smiled at his dorkiness, finding it adorable. “Trouble putting it in?” You asked, not fully realising the other possible meaning of the question until it was already out of your mouth, he looked up at you with a quizzical look before you both burst into laughter at the question.

“I’m good, thanks,” he said between laughs, getting the jack into the plug once he finally stopped looking up at you. “‘trouble putting it in,’?” He echoed your words with a lovingly mocking tone, trying not to laugh again.

“I wasn’t thinking!” You tried to defend yourself while suppressing more laughter.

“Clearly,” he giggled.

The real, practical, lesson finally began, you spent the next hour and a half learning to play a couple chords and how to transition between them. It was hell, your hands were oddly shaky and very uncoordinated, so you asked for a break before you threw your guitar out the window. “Tea?” You asked, already thinking about making some for yourself so you could have an excuse to wander your apartment for a bit.

“Sure, I’ll have whatever you have.” Andrew nodded, standing up and stretching a bit and walking over to your bookshelf.

You went over to the kitchenette to put the kettle on, your thoughts wandering to how Andrew looked, he was so pretty, and you were definitely embarrassing yourself with your horrible guitar skills, but he had to have expected that, right? You did tell him that you knew basically nothing about playing guitar after all.

He walked closer to you, leaning on the kitchen island. “You’re not as bad as you told me you’d be yesterday, you know.” He said with a kind look in his eyes.

“I’m not?” You asked as you turned to face him.

“Yeah, I mean, your fingers are a bit uncoordinated and all but that’s just getting the hang of it.” He explained. “You picked up the chords and their positions on the neck of the guitar pretty quickly, though, that’s a good sign.”

“Oh, well that’s good at least,” you chuckled, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get the hang of it, though, I have horrible hand-eye coordination.”

“It can’t be that bad, come on,” he scoffed playfully, walking over to you and almost-sitting on the counter closest to you

“It is.”

“I think your hands are just fine, you just need to practise, and maybe learning guitar will help when you do other things with your hands, it did for me.” He winked, you felt your face heat up.

“What other things?” You tilted your head to the side as you smirked.

“Just… things, you’ll see what I mean.” He chuckled, he pressed his thumb into his palm. His eyes looked you up and down slowly, but you pretended not to notice.

“Oh I’m sure.” You laughed.

The water boiled and you made the tea, you lost the track of time as your conversation went on, it was ever so slightly flirty, just some comments here and there that made you both blush coupled with a few lingering touches. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t want to do more than just learn guitar with him, but you didn’t want to be too forward, so you waited.

/#/#/#/

You met with Andrew for guitar lessons every other day for the next four weeks, slowly improving on your skill while also getting to know each other more and more, to the point that you’d hang out with him even if you weren’t practising, you’d gone to the pub with him and a few more friends a couple times and would just randomly message each other every so often throughout the day just to check on one another. It was nice, and, even if your crush on him had only gotten stronger as the days passed, you were glad to have a new friend. He was so sweet and just the right amount of dorky nerd that you couldn’t help but love him, you only hoped he felt the same way about you.

It was a Saturday evening, Andrew had been over at your apartment since lunch, you’d started the lesson right after he arrived at 1 and it was now 6:30pm, he’d been teaching you a song, or more so trying to. It wasn’t even a hard one, your hands just were not collaborating today and both you and Andrew were growing increasingly frustrated.

You were standing next to your bed while Andrew sat down on it, the guitar was strapped around you, you were considering making it against the ground in frustration. “You look angry, darling.” He pointed out, his expression unreadable.

“I’m not,” you lied, “just frustrated, I don’t know why I can’t get it right.”

“Maybe your hands are just tired, rest a bit and try again later.” He suggested.

“No.”

“The guitar won’t leave if you stop playing for a second, you know?”

“I just want to get this part right, just to hear how it sounds and then I’ll rest.”

Andrew scoffed, the smallest smirk forming on his face, he rolled his eyes before standing up and walking over to you, his frame towering over yours. “Let’s hear it then.” He ordered.

You swallowed air nervously, slightly intimidated by the combination of his height and the more strict and dominant tone his voice had taken. Your fingers moved on the guitar, clumsily playing the song and restarting it every time you messed up a note. After a few failed attempts, he moved behind you, grabbing the guitar even though it was still on you.

He pushed himself flush against your back, his hands playing the instrument as if you weren’t there. You felt the vibrations of the guitar against your abdomen and his body against your back, and, thanks to your height difference, you could perfectly feel his crotch pressing against your lower back. You felt your face heat up and a few whimpers escaping your mouth as he played, and he was definitely getting a bit into it as well, thrusting his hips into you as the song went on, the worst part was that you weren’t even sure if he was doing it because of the song or to rile you up, but that was the effect it was having anyway.

He stopped playing before he got to the chorus of the song, taking the guitar off you before he finally stepped away. “Heard it. Now, rest.” He instructed, throwing himself back on your makeshift couch.

“What the hell was that?” You asked dumbfounded, a nervous chuckle escaped you.

“Sorry, I just… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, it was weird.” He mumbled, his eyes focusing on your pillows instead of on you.

“I didn’t think it was weird,” you stretched the truth lightly, you had thought it slightly weird when he did that, but you also couldn’t ignore the burning between your thighs and you needed to know if he was feeling the same way you were right now. “You could’ve just taken the guitar off me, though.”

“It wouldn’t have worked, you would’ve gotten mad at me.” He bit his lip to fight back a smirk. “I wasn’t really thinking, anyway, and you said you wanted to hear how it sounded so… yeah.”

Your eyes wandered to his crotch for a second, he looked like he was at least slightly hard. Quickly focusing back on his face, you giggled and threw yourself on the makeshift couch next to him, you laid on your side, looking at Andrew with a small, loving smile on your face.

“What’s the smile for?” He asked, turning to his side so he could face you as well.

“Nothing,” you continued to smile. “It’s just funny that you’re kind of beating yourself up about it when I actually kinda liked it.”

“Oh?” His eyes widened for a second as he scooted closer to you. “And what about it did you like?”

“I like how the guitar felt against me. The vibrations of it, you know? I play so slow that I don’t usually feel them like… that.” You bit your thumb lightly, trying to appear a bit more innocent so he wouldn’t guess what you were really thinking about.

“Yeah, they’re nice,” he looked at your lips as well, then scooted even closer. “Anything else you liked?”

“Well… I liked how you felt… against me.” You admitted, only to see Andrew’s smile widening. His hand moved to your cheek, silently encouraging you to keep going. “I liked how you were thrusting against me, it felt nice.”

“Just nice?” He teased, caressing your cheek.

“It was kinda hot, too.”

“I thought so too, maybe we could do something about it?” He suggested, his hand moving to your hip.

You nodded weakly, your lips parting ever so slightly. Andrew lunged in to kiss you, his mouth crashing against yours as you kissed him back passionately. Slowly he moved to be on top of you as you kissed, his right leg moved between yours, pressing against your core. Your hips moved against his legs, desperate for any kind of release. His tongue darted into your mouth, exploring as it pleased while your hands tangled in his shaggy curls.

You deepened the kiss, it became sloppier and more desperate as the seconds passed by, Andrew pulled back, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths to each other’s. His breathing mirrored yours, ragged and irregular even as you tried to calm down slightly. His glasses were slipping off his nose, so, as one does, you moved your hand from his hair and adjusted them, making him chuckle softly. “I feel like a fucking teenager.” He laughed, leaning in to plant small kisses on your jaw and neck.

“You’re twenty-two, not that far from it.” You teased while quiet moans escaped your lips.

“Shut up.” He laughed, his kisses on your skin turning more demanding. His hands snaked under your shirt, slowly pulling it off you until he could finally throw it on to the floor. He grabbed your breasts, moving his face between them before starting to kiss and lightly bite them, you arched your back into him, more moans escaping you.

“Fuck! Andy… please,” you moaned loudly, he hummed against your chest.

“What is it, baby?” He asked with a wicked smile, looking up at you through the rim of his glasses. You whimpered and rubbed yourself against his leg as a response, making him chuckle once more. “So needy… I’ve been wanting you for a while, let me at least play a little before I ravage you.”

“Play faster, I want you now.” You whined again, pulling him in to kiss him. He happily obliged, kissing you back while his hands made quick work of your jeans.

Your jeans and underwear quickly joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on your floor, leaving you completely bare. Your hands moved from Andrew’s hair as he pulled away from your mouth, instead trailing kisses down your neck and collarbone once more, your touch moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling at the cloth to try and pull it off him already. He quickly caught onto that and pulled his own shirt and undershirt off himself, uncovering his torso. He was still as lanky and thin as he was with clothes on, but he was a bit fuller than you had imagined, the slightest bit of pudge gathering on his abdomen. Your gaze turned him slightly shy, his cheeks reddening as he looked away for a second.

“I know this probably isn’t what you imagined,” he said sheepishly, a nervous tone in his voice, “I’m s-“

“You’re so pretty,” you interrupted him, still staring at his body.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, I do.” You smiled, your hands grazed his skin. “You’re very hot, too.”

“Flatterer.” He smiled back, leaning in to kiss you again. You felt goosebumps forming on his skin the more you caressed him.

“I would never, I’m only saying what I think.” You kissed him back.

He hummed happily into the kiss, his hand travelling lower and lower on your body until it reached your core. He gently caressed it with two fingers, smiling darkly when he felt just how wet you were. Slowly, he played with your clit, making you whimper and buckle your hips against his hand, silently begging for more. He obliged, moving to push two fingers inside you and making you gasp at the intrusion, he slowly pumped them in and out, his thumb moving to play with your clit.

“Is this something that playing guitar helps with?” You teased while trying to suppress your moans.

Andrew chuckled, his fingers quickening. “Yes, actually.” He kissed along your jaw. “It helps a lot, makes it easier to fuck you.”

You moaned more, holding onto him like a lifeline as he played with you. His lips moved to your neck again, leaving passionate kisses and hickeys as he memorised every inch of your skin. His movements quickened even more, his thumb playing with your clit in a way that made your legs shake slightly, his other hand grabbed your hip, his nails digging into your skin. You felt the all-familiar burning-white desire in your lower abdomen, your whines got more and more high pitched until they were nothing more than needy whimpers.

Andrew chuckled, pulling away from your neck to look at your face as you came undone before him. “That’s it, let go for me,” he whispered softly, his free hand now moving up to brush your hair away from your face. “That’s it, good girl. Let me feel you, baby, please.”

You felt something snap within you at his words, pure pleasure running through you as you came on his fingers, covering them with your essence. He smiled at your blissed out expression, taking it in as he fingered you through your orgasm. Once it subsided he pulled out his fingers and licked them clean as you looked at him, a moan escaping him as he finally tasted you.

“Fuck, you’re delicious, I’m going to fucking devour you next time.” He growled.

“Why not now?” You teased breathlessly, still recovering from your orgasm.

“Because I might explode if I don’t put my dick inside you right now.” He teased back, reaching into his wallet for a condom. “Can I fuck you now, baby? Or do you need to recover a bit more first?”

“Now, please.” You begged without thinking.

Andrew smiled at your eagerness, taking off his pants and underwear to reveal his cock, it was as long as you thought, or hoped, it’d be, somewhere above average that was still enjoyable, but his thickness surprised you, he was wider than you’d imagined. You felt your mouth watering. “You’re staring.” He said firmly, rolling on the condom, “does it scare you?” He asked, his tone a mixture of dominance and genuine concern.

“No.” You smiled, opening your legs more. “I was just a bit surprised.”

“A good surprise, I hope.” He smiled back, grabbing your legs and pulling you closer to him. You chuckled at his words.

“A very good surprise, yeah.”

You reached out to touch him once again, his hands catching yours and pushing them to be above your head. He held them in place with his left hand while his right travelled to your thigh, lifting it ever so slightly as he positioned himself between your legs. His cock brushed lightly against your core, making you both whimper lightly at the feeling, then, slowly, he pushed in. Your gasp matched his moaning, soft and quiet enough that it was almost whispered, he was pushing in slowly, making sure it wasn’t painful for you. He bottomed out after a few more seconds, his movements stopping as he let you get used to his size. He leaned in to kiss you, a slow, loving kiss that had you melting into his touch even more.

You moved your hips after a few kisses, signalling Andrew to move. He happily obliged, slowly thrusting in and out of you. Your moans filled the room, making a symphony with his. “You feel so fucking good, baby, oh my god.” He practically whimpered into your ear, interlocking his fingers with yours. His other hand held tightly onto your thigh, his grip almost bruising as he lost himself in you. You shook your hand free from his, moving it to his hair along with your other hand to pull him in for a kiss, muffling your moans.

“Faster, please.” You begged between kisses, Andrew growled in response, letting go of all his restraint. His pace quickened to a brutal one, pistoning in and out of you without a care in the world. Your hands moved down to his back, your nails leaving scratches as you neared your peak just from the feeling of his cock inside you.

He straightened up, getting a better view of you, completely blissed out and moaning like crazy, sweat making some of your hair stick to your face. His hand caressed your cheek lovingly, his thumb pressing on your mouth to pry it open. “Open up, baby.” He ordered, and you obeyed without hesitation. His thumb moved inside your mouth, pressing on your tongue. “Suck.” He added.

And you did, sucking gently on his thumb as a lopsided smile grew in his face. He whispered soft praises as he fucked you, his thumb thrusting slightly in and out at a gentle pace to contrast the one of his hips.

He moved your leg with his other hand so your ankle would be resting on his shoulder, changing the angle in just the right position so his pubic bone would hit your clit every time he bottomed out. Your moans got louder, or as much as they could since your sucking of his thumb muffled most of the noise. Andrew moaned too, quieter, softer moans that could only be audible between your own, but you loved every single one you could hear. You felt his cock twitch inside you.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your own hand moving to your clit to give you the extra friction you needed. Andrew pulled his thumb out of your mouth and moved it to your clit before you could reach it on your own, flicking it rapidly as he moved your leg off his shoulder so he could lean in to kiss you again. You moaned into his mouth and he moaned into yours, both of you nearing your respective climaxes, his cock twitched more inside you, his thrusting becoming erratic and uncoordinated. You felt the pure, unadulterated ecstasy threatening to explode within you once more, your hands moving once more to Andrew’s hair as he kissed you.

“Come for me, baby, come on, let me hear you again pet.” He moaned, pulling back slightly so he could see your face as you came undone below him. “So fuckin’ pretty, come on, love.”

You came under him not long after, pure pleasure flowing through you as your body shook with your orgasm. But Andrew didn’t stop, chasing his own release as his thrusts became even more irregular than before, and, just as you were starting to feel the overstimulation taking over, he came, releasing his spent into the condom and stopping his movements almost completely, savouring the feeling of your walls around him. He moaned loudly, his head going back slightly as his eyes closed and his jaw slacked, you grinned slightly, recognising his current expression as the same one he did when playing a more upbeat guitar solo.

After a few more seconds, you both calmed down, and Andrew leaned in to kiss you once more, slowly and lovingly this time. You kissed back, your bodies still entangled with each other as you savoured the afterglow of your lovemaking. Carefully, and despite how much neither of you wanted that, he pulled out of you, detaching himself from you so he could take off the condom and throw it out. “I’ll be back in a second, stay put.” He murmured before giving you a quick kiss and walking towards your bathroom.

He came back not long after with a damp washcloth in hand, cleaning you up slightly before helping you sit up on your bed. “I should go to the bathroom,” you pointed out.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “go on, I’ll wait here for you.”

You smiled lovingly, getting up and into the bathroom, coming out of it a few minutes later after refreshing yourself. You found Andrew laying on your bed, having put his boxers back on while you’d been washing up. He smiled at the sight of you, opening his arms for you to cuddle into, and that you did, crawling into your bed and hugging him tight. He played with your hair as you cuddled, talking about random things before you decided to be a bit cheeky. “Did you know you have the exact same face when playing guitar that you do when you cum?”

“Shut up,” he laughed, “…do I really?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it at least a nice face or do I look like an idiot?” His face reddened ever so slightly.

“I think it’s a very pretty face, just like your normal one.” You assured him honestly.

“Thank god.” He laughed again, holding you tighter to him. “Can I stay the night?” He added, a hint of uncertainty and pleading in his tone.

“You better stay.” You smiled, nuzzling your face into his chest.

Andrew smiled back, burying his face in your hair and taking in your scent.

[knavesflames]

hiii 🩷 i saw that you like raiden... i was wondering if we could have a fem!reader sucking her strap 🫣 maybe while wearing a collar & leash, and some praise from raiden?🩷 (she probably isn't good at it, but she tries!!)

- 🍰

Hi 🍰 anon!! Sorry this took literally so fucking long :( I also forgot to include the leash and the collar D: either way, reader sucking strap… yummy

Word count: 1022

Contents: reader sucks The Strap, mentions of praying, devotion to a god, yeah

Nsft utc!

For someone who meditated in isolation for 500 years, her skills in bed are.. about what you’d expect. She’s clumsy, unsure, but all she ever seems to want to do is please you. On occasion, when you request something she’s unsure she can fulfill, she orders the Shogun instead. Even though the Shogun is different, more robotic, less emotional, only saying and doing what she is programmed to, Ei watches, memorising the way she had memorised the Mosou No Hitotachi all those years ago. Of course, you’d much rather Ei do it herself, but the fact she’s a powerful god, the slayer of orobashi, means nothing when she’s alone with you.

“I do not understand your request. You want to.. suck it?” She asks softly, a tilt of her head causing her purple braid to sway gently with the movement. “I do,” you murmur, your finger gently tracing the vein on the strap she had so carefully crafted for you. Made from pure electro energy, it gave the perfect buzz when she needed it to, but only when she wanted it to. You loved it, and it gave you what you needed. Plus, the sounds you made when you were both alone in Tenshukaku sounded better than anything she had ever heard. “I think it would be fun. I think.. I don’t know. I want to try it.”

“I do not wish to hurt you, my petal. If you require the Shogun, you really must say—“ you cut her off with a firm shake of your head. You don’t want the Shogun. Quite frankly, you’re sick of the Shogun. You don’t want to look up, mid groan, only to see the puppet with its emotionless eyes. You want the woman you love, the god you worship so dearly. You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t gotten on your knees in other ways for her, kneeling at the shrine and praying for unholy things. You wonder if she hears your prayers (she does. She listens with her mouth slightly open and her breath quickening, and yet, she can never do anything about it). You assume she does not. You love her anyway.

“I see. You do not wish to engage with the Shogun any longer.”

“No. I do not worship a puppet, I worship the divine being stood in front of me. Do the thing.”

“What thing?” Again, she’s confused. You sigh. You wonder why she has to be so clueless for a god so old and smart.

“Make it vibrate. I want you to feel good.” Ei’s problem is that she can’t accept pleasure. At least, not from anyone but herself. Long mediation sessions that only include thinking about the faces you make every time she hits the right spot, or kisses the right place. Watching over you with the omnipresence she so happily flaunts as you touch yourself to the thought of her (and, on occasion, being tag teamed by her and the Shogun. You’ll never ask).

“Oh.” Speechless, is the god who is so feared and respected by the nation. The nation who seems to have no idea how shy and flustered she can truly get. “Right. If you wish, then I shall oblige. Anything for you.”

When she fastens the hand crafted strap onto herself, her own breath hitches at the slight sensation. Neither of you know exactly how to work this situation with the small vibrations, but the fact you can feel your heartbeat between your own legs and the way you notice you can’t take your eyes off of it, you know that it’s the only thing you’re thinking about, and damn the archons if you don’t get to. Tentatively, you let your tongue move across the surface of it. Her violet eyes pierce down at you— she doesn’t mean for it to be, but it’s slightly intimidating nonetheless (maybe that’s what you like). You see the softness that lies beneath anyway.

“I think you need to hold my head, it’s— it’s big, and I’ve never done this before.”

“Hold your head? Is that not violent? I will not injure you for pleasure.” She states, but when you gently explain that it’ll help, her hand slowly moves to your hair. Her fingers, smooth despite the centuries of fighting, weave through your hair before gripping a small handful. Looking at you with her eyebrows knitted, waiting for a sign of consent, she stands still. When you give that sign, a murmured “please”, she begins to help your mouth and throat adjust by pushing you down. She’s gentle, almost a little too gentle, but the second you make that tiny little sound, she gasps. Your own eyes flutter to hers, a silent look of consent.

She’s hesitant at first, her hand barely guiding you, but when she starts losing herself at the sight of your eyes (beginning to water with what can only be described as tears of pure, unadulterated devotion), she lets herself loose, gently testing the waters with a roll of her hips. At the pleased choking sound you make, she does it again, and again, until she builds a rhythm, her breath coming out in little pants and stifled groans. Her lip is bitten in any attempt to hide the fact she’s enjoying this more than she thought she would. When a small whimper finally breaks through, she lets her head tilt back. Ei has decided she can’t look at you any longer or she’ll probably cum at the sight of you with spit on your chin and wet eyelashes.

Ei is a sensitive being, believe it or not. Unfortunately, for her and her ego, she does, in fact orgasm at the sight of you, the vibrations secretly doing nothing for her. She lies, and tells you that the vibrations did the trick. You know, it's different. You say nothing. You wouldn’t dare disrespect your god and accuse her of deceit.

And of course, when she notices the fact you’re throbbing, her hands gently pry your thighs apart, her braid tickling your ankles as she brings you to an eternity of pleasure.

[distantdarlings]

SORE LOSER // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Gender Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* After tossing and turning for hours, you decided to take advantage of one of your Prefect privileges, which is the gorgeous Prefect’s bathroom. It seems, though, that someone else had the exact same idea.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in gn!Reader), gender neutral reader, fingering (gn!receiving), slight voyeurism, Dom!Theo, Sub!Reader, sex in bath, spanking, Theo is slightly rough, language, not fully proof-read. (Lmk if I missed any!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

ME&U - Zeke Bleu, Midnight Moon.

- - -

Between the day you had and the evening you’d failed to make relaxing for yourself, you would have assumed you’d be ready to pass out. But for some reason, you could not fall asleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying here, tossing and turning amongst the golden silk sheets, but you knew it had to have been a while.

The quiet breathing of your dorm mates beyond the canopy curtains, had slowly transformed into calculated, deep inhales and little snores. You knew that you were the only one left awake, and for some reason that made you feel even less confident you’d ever get to sleep, simply because of how focused you currently were on the little sounds they made.

The whole room was too quiet and the cold stone walls seemed to amplify every single breath that was taken in and bed spring that creaked. It was maddening.

You rolled to your left side and shut your eyes, the change in position was comfortable and gave you a bit of hope until the student to your right let out an echoing snort and a few nonsensical murmurs.

At that moment, you huffed and yanked your duvet back, feeling the cold air scrape along your exposed skin. You pulled the canopy curtains aside and let your feet hang over the bed. With a whispered summoning charm, your slippers whizzed to your feet. You stood and made your way to the foot of your bed.

Your shaking fingers gripped the heavy lip of your clothing trunk. The old wood creaked against its hinges as you slowly eased it open, wincing at the interrupting sound.

Hopefully, it wasn’t loud enough to wake any of your dorm mates. You plucked your soft robe off of the hook fixed to one of the bed’s posts and slipped it over your shoulders.

Quickly, you selected a change of clothes, toiletries, and a towel, before easing the trunk lid back down.

You shuffled over to the dormitory entrance and slipped through the heavy door. You supposed if anything would make you sleepy, it’d be a nice, warm bath. If that didn’t do it, you may resort to knocking yourself out.

Once outside the dorm, you readjusted everything stacked in your arms and held your breath. A second passed before your body felt as if it was sucked into a tube.

Whooshing sounds echoed all around you, and your arms struggled to keep all of your supplies clutched together. Just as it felt as though you were about to drop your things, your feet landed on solid stone ground. Your legs wobbled just slightly as you gathered your bearings, recognizing the gorgeous stained glass shimmers that belonged to the Prefect’s bathroom.

As your eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, you noticed that the grand pool had already been filled to the brim with steaming, bubbly water. With a sigh, you smiled and set your stuff down one one of the benches lining the water.

It never failed that the castle read your mind and prepared exactly what you wanted. You had previously thought that the only part of the castle that could read one’s mind was the Room of Requirement, but you soon discovered other areas of the castle could also do it.

With a deep sigh, you worked the knot of your robe loose and let the heavy material slide off your arms. It hit the floor with a muffled thump. Next, you tugged the old tee shirt over your head. The cold air swirled around your exposed breasts, coaxing your nipples up and forward.

You slipped your bottoms down your legs. Colored moonlight shone across your thighs and hands.

Just as your bottoms hit your ankles, you stepped out of your slippers and the thin fabric puddled atop them.

Even though you could wash them, the thought of your underwear touching the bare bathroom floor was too much for you to handle. You stifled a gag at the thought.

Turning, you slipped strands of hair behind your ears and walked to the edge of the pool. The tile was cold and biting beneath your feet, but the water was warm and inviting. Even from the rim, you could feel its heat radiating up.

Settling a toe into the water, you could feel the heat spread across your feet and up. Chills erupted along your whole body as the warmth combated against your cold skin.

You sank the rest of your body down the stairs, each inch submerging more of your aching muscles.

Once you settled all the way down, and sat on the edge of the tile that jutted out near your hips, you closed your eyes. The warm water ringed around your neck, soothing every bit of your body.

You couldn’t help but let a slight moan slip between your lips as your skin heated up.

You could already feel the pain and insomnia alleviating.

Your fingers wiggled aimlessly in the black emptiness, their weightlessness easing your mind. If you picked your feet up, the pool was just deep enough that you’d float.

A thought passed briefly before your eye. You gasped and opened your eyes.

For a moment, it felt as though someone might be here. The feeling creeped up your spine and niggled in the base of your skull.

You glanced around, the tips of your damp hair gliding across your neck. The light from the grand windows was just enough to cast glares across your eyes as it reflected off the water. It was near impossible for you to see anything at the opposite end of the pool clearly. It all just seemed to disappear into the dark.

Trying to ignore the feeling, you murmured a locking spell, hearing the door’s lock clunk into place. If someone had been in here, you would not have been able to just walk in. They would have locked it. Surely.

You shook those thoughts away and turned to reach for your things laid out across the bench. You selected some hair oil and body wash—the same you’d used since you were a child—and set them just at the edge of the pool.

The water splashed gently as you wet your hair and face. The only sound was the soft pattering of the water and your breathing.

As you lathered the oils into your hair, your eyes shut and you thought of the stressors that had thrown themselves at you earlier today.

Not only had you spilled your tea all over your bottoms (and were late to class because of it), you’d actually gotten something wrong in your class today. And that wasn’t even the most frustrating part of it. Everybody got things wrong in class from time to time, but no one had ever gotten a fact wrong in the middle of a debate with the only asshole in Hogwarts that had ever managed to upstage you. And to make matters even worse, it was a debate on Astrological matters, which was your best fucking class.

It was humiliating. You could still see the way that bloody Theodore Nott had smirked when he realized you’d misspoken. He knew he’d gotten you cornered, and you’d known you were screwed.

How pathetic.

You rinsed your soapy hair out, wringing the excess bubbles from the strands and watching them pool around you in the water.

“I haven’t gotten a show like this in a while—”

A scream left you as shock splattered across your body. You turned anxiously, trying to find the source of the voice, while simultaneously trying to cover your naked body.

Finally, your eyes landed on a figure in the darkness, hidden by the rays from the window.

“Who’s there?” you demanded, covering your body beneath the water.

Then he walked into the light and you recognized the very boy you were trying to ignore. Theodore Nott.

Your eyes betrayed your mind and glanced down, tracing the tight muscles that ran along his entire body. Quidditch would do that to a boy, you supposed.

“Hey, Hufflepuff,” he whispered, edging closer.

“No, Nott,” you said, holding a finger out. “You stay back… Cover your eyes and I’ll get out and leave.”

He was now standing a few feet from you. You could see the details in his unfortunately gorgeous face. A deep smirk was drawn across his lips. The light behind him illuminated him like a god. You swallowed nervously.

“What if I don’t want to cover my eyes? Or want you to leave?” he asked, cocking his head to the slide slightly.

With every word, he slid slowly closer, the soapy water trailed over his naked stomach. Even at your full height, the water consumed most of your chest. You hadn’t remembered him being this tall.

He stopped just before you, your head directed upwards just to look him in the eye. The moonlight carved into one of your eyes, painting your skin in reds and greens and blues.

One of his fingers slowly came up to trace the lines of the patterns the stained glass cast on your cheek. Then you were stepping back away from him.

“Uh, Nott, that’s not a good idea,” you shuddered, looking away from him. You pulled some of the bubbles closer to your chest to conceal yourself.

Standing naked in a relatively small body of water with your notorious academic rival wasn’t exactly the greatest idea. The thought of his hands being so close to your exposed body was making you nervous.

He was gorgeous—that much was obvious. Given the chance, you’d likely sleep with him but—

Given the chance, you’d likely sleep with him. Was this your chance? Merlin, you were pathetic.

“Why not? Call me Theo, by the way,” he said, walking back over to you.

“Erm, alright, Theo…this isn’t a good idea.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Well…,” you started. You couldn’t lie—it was hard to think of a reason why the two of you couldn’t do something, besides the whole rival thing. “Because you’re a Slytherin.”

You almost rolled your eyes at what you’d blurted out. Because you’re a Slytherin. What, were you five years old? You refrained from slapping a hand to your face.

He chuckled a bit and placed an arm to the right of your head, caging you against the wall of the pool even more. Your hands shook beneath the water.

“Because I’m a Slytherin? Isn’t that a reason to want to fuck me?”

Heat shot to your abdomen, but it wasn’t from the water surrounding the two of you.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” you laughed nervously. His other arm went beside the left side of your head. He had now completely caged you in.

You could hardly believe how he was behaving. You didn’t think he’d even noticed except when you were in the middle of one of your heated class debates.

Then, he not only noticed you, but he saw you as well. His eyes looked through you and into you. His lips formed every word so perfectly as he pushed and fought for the win, and, damn it, if it wasn’t one of the sexiest things you’d ever seen.

Those debates always had you panting and with your hands between your legs. All except for today. You’d never lost before.

You win every time, you feel the tension between his desperation to overcome you, you fuck yourself beneath your sheets. You lose, he feels the tension, he fucks you? Was that how this worked?

“Come on, Hufflepuff,” he whispered, face so close to yours. “You know you want to. I know you feel it when we debate. The way your eyes always flicker down to my lips, the way your cheeks flush. That’s not just nerves from a debate. No…” He leaned down beside your cheek, lips gently caressing your ear. “It’s lust.”

He pulled back and watched the changes in your eyes. Fear was keeping you from slamming your lips into his, but desire was urging you to take him right there. You were frozen.

The back of his index finger stroked the outside of your arm. It traced slowly up the curve of your elbow, then your bicep, then your shoulder. It stopped when he reached your collarbone.

At that point, his hand turned and pressed its palm between your clavicles. His hand was so large, the tips of his finger spanned up to the top of your throat.

The heat from his skin was ten-thousand times hotter than the water. Your eyes fluttered.

“Say you want it,” he whispered. Your eyes opened again.

Could you even say yes to this? After years of pining after him, would there even be a point? A quick fuck and then the two of you never talked again? That didn’t sound good to you.

Still, the pulsing between your thighs was almost too much to bear. Between the light cutting across your skin, the hot water, and his skin on yours, you found it impossible to even move your lips enough to form words.

Desperate for more of him, you ignored all of your doubts and nodded your head.

Without another moment, the hand on your chest cupped your jawline and pulled your lips to his.

His lips were hot and wanting—angry, almost. His tongue pried your lips open with a cruelty that was unmatched. Your shaking fingers lingered on the edge of his naked chest as he kissed you open. You wanted so badly to touch him, but—

You gasped. His hands roughly grabbed yours and pressed them flat against his chest. He must have sensed your hesitation to touch him.

He pressed your body even farther against the edge of the pool as his lips detached from yours and attached to your neck.

You’re gasping and your stomach is broiling and heat is building between your legs and everything in you feels like it’s engorging.

With a gained moment of confidence, your fingers rose to curl in his damp hair. Your fingernails scraped gently over his scalp, to which he replied with a sighing moan against your skin. His hot breath blown against you made chills erupt down your arms.

His fingertips traced down your sides, eliciting flames with their trail. You shuddered beneath his body which controlled your every move.

Once they’d reached the top of your thighs, he pulled away from your neck and placed his forehead against yours. Panting against your lips, his body smelled lightly of his toothpaste and the heat between the two of you.

“Can I?” he breathed.

“C-can you what?” you stuttered, fingers holding onto his shoulders like a vice. The water was warm around you.

“Can I fuck you?” He didn’t linger on the question. He just asked. His confidence was like a drug. His nose brushed yours as his fingers slipped toward the inside of your thigh, teasing farther and farther, until you let out a stifled whimper and nodded your head frantically.

Then he was sinking his hand between your wet thighs and grasping you within his palms. You gasped beneath the pressure of his large hand. The pure size of him covered the entirety of your core far better than yours ever could.

The amount of nights you’d spent imagining this happening with Theo was lengthy, but you’d never imagined how much bigger he truly was.

Your eyes clenched tightly at the sensation. Your lips mouthed his name silently, your fingers scraped down his back. He groaned against your lips at the sensation, the pain urging him on.

“Turn around,” he demanded. He released your sex and grasped your waist roughly.

The speed with which he turned you around and leaned you over the rim of the pool had your head spinning. The cold tile pressed against your bare chest and stomach, the shocking sensation blurring your eyes.

The edge of the pool bit into your hip bones as he raised your ass out of the water and balanced you against it.

You placed your hands down to try and rearrange yourself when Theo grabbed them and pulled them behind you. They were held tightly against your tailbone, clutched meanly in just one of his hands.

You groaned at the sensation, the tile rubbing against your sensitive nipples and core. Fuck. Between the heat of the water still covering your legs and the freezing tile, your heart was racing.

“You’d better be loud for me, baby,” Theo said, free hand tracing down the line of your ass. “Want all of the school to hear who’s fucking you so well, okay?”

One finger breached your entrance suddenly, the sudden feeling causing your body to jolt forward away from the boy behind you.

“Fuck, Theo,” you moaned.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled. “Let me hear you.”

He worked you open gently, surprisingly letting you adjust to every inch of his lengthy finger before he added a second, then a third finger.

Once he felt you were stretched enough, he hummed approvingly.

“Breathe for me, darling,” he whispered. “Gonna hurt just a little bit…”

Then he was pressing himself against your entrance as anticipation swirled in your stomach. Your cheek pressed against the cold bathroom tile.

When he pushed into you, your fists clenched so tightly, your fingernails bit sharply into your palms. You were sure blood was pooling across your fingers.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight. You ever been stretched like this?”

You moaned loudly as he slowly worked himself out, then pressed himself back into you. Every inch of his length was tracing every inch of your insides, claiming your body as his.

His free hand came down hard against your ass. You yelped loudly at the sensation, the sound echoing throughout the bathroom.

“Answer my fucking question,” he demanded, hand around your wrists squeezing tighter.

“No! No…never,” you moaned louder.

“All those fucking debates,” he growled, beginning to pound into you harder. “Always giving me that fucking smirk when you win. It got to the point where I wanted you to win so you would give me that smirk and turn to the rest of the class and bow. I could always get the perfect view of your ass. Merlin, I wanted to bend you over the fucking desk and show everyone what a bitch you are.”

You groaned at his filthy words.

“You may have won those fucking debates, but I’ve won this fucking body. You’re mine.”

“Theo,” you whined shamelessly, your finish building up rapidly within your lower stomach. Your shoulders were beginning to cramp from where Theo was holding you so tightly.

“Yeah, baby? That feel good?” he teased. “Always wanted to make you feel…so…good…”

Every last word was punctuated by a particularly sharp thrust.

The sloshing of the water between the two of you splashed up around your hips, coating you in its warmth. Every sensation was building and beginning to become too much.

It wasn’t long before your hands were clenching again and your hips started to shift. You were so close and Theo knew it.

“Fuck, I can feel you tightening around me,” he groaned. His voice was cracking slightly with every few words. His fucked out rasp echoed off the walls, traveling around and crashing into your ears.

The sound alone was enough to push you over the edge, but the hot stripe that he leaned down and licked along the length of your back finished you.

You came hard. Your stomach clenched as your eyes rolled upwards.

Your orgasm slipped into the water between the two of you.

The sensation of your finish clenching around Theo had his thrusts becoming more desperate and disorganized. He only lasted a few more strokes before he was cumming shamelessly inside of you.

He released your arms and laid across your back, groaning deeply as he finished himself off, pulling himself out and then pushing back in. He pumped you full of his cum a few more times until the sticky sensation was rippling overstimulation through him.

“Fuck, that was perfect,” he groaned against your wet spine. He placed an open-mouthed kiss against your flesh there, his tongue curling against you.

You moaned sleepily, only half-present as he pulled himself off of you. He helped you slide comfortably off the edge of the pool and settle your cold top half into the warm water.

You sighed comfortably and looked up at him.

“I had no idea you were such a sore loser,” you teased.

He smirked, a small chuckle coming from between his lips. He leaned across you and selected your hair oil from where it still stood on the tile, long forgotten about.

He poured a bit into his hands before turning back to your tired body. His fingers slid against your scalp, lathering the product into your dampened strands. Fuck, his fingers weren’t just good inside of you… Your eyes slipped shut as he washed your hair so gently.

His lips pressed softly against the shell of your ear. “The only one around here who’s going to be sore is you, baby.”

- - -

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[truearchangel]

   “You take things so seriously, I’m just teasing you. I know you didn’t lay the egg, I’m not an idiot.” A smile pulls onto his lips and he leans on the table, folding his arms in front of him and nudging the plate away a bit. He would like for Alastor to get along with Aty, but he understood too as the one who brought that egg to life it was his responsibility and not Alastor’s. He told him to crack the eggs, Michael took it the wrong way. He doesn’t enjoy harming birds, alive or not. They were one of his favorite things.

   He had heard Alastor’s remark about coffee, but he didn’t understand that the other was declining tea. He had thought he was just stating what he preferred over tea, but would accept drinking it anyway. Michael would have gladly made him coffee if he had asked for it, Michael loved coffee himself and tended to drink it at night to keep himself awake. To escape the nightmares when they wanted to consume him.

   The mention of the food has his gaze briefly darting down toward it, taking in the hard work that the Radio Demon had made for him and the smile tightens a little bit. “I do not lie, lying is a sin. I might not answer you directly, or answer at all if I do not wish to, but I won’t lie especially over food. It is good, you’re a wonderful cook, and the flavor is unique. Unfortunately, my pallet is perhaps a bit… more bland compared to your very ranged one. What I can tolerate easily is much less than what you yourself seems capable of handling. I do apologize for that.” 

   Thankfully, he does require much food and what he had already eaten from what Alastor made was more than enough for him. So he shakes his head at the offer of fruit and nudges his plate toward Alastor to eat if he so desired. Did he have a bottomless stomach? Was that part of his sin of gluttony? 

   “I do appreciate you cooking for me though, thank you.”

"I did not lay any egg. It came from the store."

As if he needed to clarify. Did he look like an egg-laying creature? Honestly. While he had no true intent to consume the blasted chicken, he did not think he could harbor much affection for the thing. (Though... one never truly knew. If anything, he may be able to be relatively tolerant, as he was to the strange hotel cat, KeeKee, but he'd not told anyone about that thus far.)

Alastor continued to nurse his own food until the other returned with tea - after he'd rather specifically said that he was much more the coffee appreciator, but he supposed that fell on deaf ears. But it would not do to turn his nose up at it. He'd tolerated tea at Rosie's at least a dozen times per annum, if not more, and always it managed to be at least marginally okay.

Just not as good as coffee.

So he would take the tea offered and sip at it, saying nothing on the taste or whether or not he liked or enjoyed it. Just a small murmur of a 'thank you' given in between drinks and bites - trying his utmost to maintain his manners despite his hunger always keening loudly when he finally had food in front of him. Though Michael's attempt at describing the dish, though Alastor might have taken offense from anyone else, was met with a small smirk and a light huff of amusement.

"You don't have to lie," he said. "It is a lot by many standards. Safe, still, by mine. But you and I are not the same."

His head nodded in the direction of the fridge -

"There are fruits in there. If that is safer for you. I can finish what you do not."

Alastor would certainly not let the food go to waste, at any rate.

[macgyvermedical]

Harm Reduction Ideas for Substance Use Disorder

Recently I have been listening to a podcast called The Curbsiders Addiction Medicine. If you are a clinician that works even sometimes with people who use substances (every clinician ever), it is a fantastic look at all the harm reduction practices you can use to make these individuals safer. Plus, you get free CME.

I’m hardly going to do the podcast itself justice with this post, but I wanted to share some things I learned from it:

If the dangers of using substances (social and legal consequences, time commitment, health problems, money problems, etc…) was a deterrent, people wouldn’t be doing it. But it’s not. Because uncontrolled substance use is a chronic disease that generally does not get better without treatment. When people are treated, not only do they generally use less, but they have a much lower chance of death and a much higher chance of a happy, productive life- whatever that means for the patient.

Previously (even a few years ago) we hung such treatment on the requirement that people be abstinent from substances in order to receive help. This works for some people, but far from everyone.

The evidence shows that best thing we can do for many individuals is to make their use safer and less of a burden on their life and health. This is called harm reduction, and it WORKS.

Here are some evidence-based ideas for how to help your patients:

Create a space where you are working together with your patient and following your patient’s lead. Do they want to become abstinent? Great! Do they want to use less or use in a more controlled way? Also great! Do they want to continue use in a safer way? You guessed it, also great! Support them in whatever their goal is

Provide or prescribe safe, clean tools of use. Things like clean needles, Pyrex pipes, and straws. This decreases rates of infection and abscesses

Prescribe medications that reduce cravings or reduce/eliminate withdrawal (methadone, buprenorphine, topiramate, bupropion, naltrexone) without requiring abstinence

Teach people safer use practices and safer routes, such as rectal (booty bumping) or oral (parachuting) instead of injection drug use

Prescribe PrEP if people are at risk of HIV without requiring abstinence

Test for and treat the consequences of substance use (such as HIV and Hep C) without requiring abstinence

Provide fentanyl and xylazine test strips so people know what is in the substances they are using and can adjust doses/use pattern accordingly

Recommend Never Use Alone hotlines to prevent overdose death or better yet, take turns using with a buddy

Prescribe naloxone to anyone who uses any substance- nearly all street drugs are contaminated with synthetic opioids and naloxone is an effective way to prevent deaths

People use substances for a reason, especially early in their journey- pain, coping with depression/other mental illness, ADHD, and social issues like being unhoused. Treat the problem if you can find it, and you can help people significantly decrease use or use in a more controlled way

Be aware that return to use (or return to uncontrolled use) is a thing you can plan for with the patient and manage before it even happens

It’s hard sometimes to change the idea of addiction/substance use disorder as something that can only be treated as a reward for staying sober. But thats why so few people seek treatment for it. The evidence does not equivocate. Harm reduction WORKS.

[theculturedmarxist]

>Would a party that declares independence from the culture war even be possible?

I think so. We have to remember that the "culture war" is itself just a proxy for the class war being waged against working people.

For example, in my state a few years ago there was a bunch of bullshit over the "bathroom bill." Dem-controlled Charlotte passed a bill saying that people can use the bathroom of their presented gender, and then Rep-controlled Raleigh countermanded it with a bill of their own saying the opposite. There was a lot of gnashing of teeth over the assault on trans rights and so on, but all of this was in service of covering up what the bill was really about. The second half of the bill not dealing with bathrooms dealt with preventing municipalities from setting minimum wages, safety requirements, and other such things for contract workers.

Another example is this recent shit out of Florida and other places attacking what books school libraries are allowed to have on their shelves, generally having to do with LGBTQ&c content. It's really such nonsense, because how many children are actually being "exposed to" that kind of thing from their school libraries to begin with? But recently I saw an article that tallied up the amount schools have spent having to fight these regulations or the evangelical groups suing them into the billions of dollars. Once again the trans issue is just a cover for reactionaries to attack working people, this time by draining public schools of resources and covering them in acrimony.

Remember also that this "culture war" is happening in a more or less vacuum of working class material interests. Both parties use it as a scapegoat to prevent having to offer working people anything. In either case, if a voter isn't offered something positive to vote for, they'll at least vote against something negative. The average person probably doesn't know a trans person or deal with them in such a substantial way to really have to think about them at all, but when used as a means to threaten their child, either in the sense of "you don't want some DEMOCRAT to trans your beautiful girl into an ugly MAN do you?" or "you don't want some REPUBLICAN to KILL your beautiful trans child do you?" then it becomes a serious issue.

For the most part I really don't think the average person gives much of a shit. Returning to my state's circumstances, right now much of the Western portion is still devastated by hurricane Helene. If a trans person showed up on the remains of someone's doorstep, home destroyed, no power, no heat, no water, no food, with clothes and food and water for them and their children, do you think they're going to turn their nose up? Maybe a few, but I think most people would kiss the feet of the person that kept their children from starving.

And I think that's what we see pretty regularly—people are more concerned with having their material needs met over the ideological source of having those needs met. The average American voter isn't represented by either party because neither one materially meets any of their needs and they have no interest in trying to. In fact, I think if you described the ideal socialist program to the average American they would unequivocally support it.

To provide one such example, when the Amazon Union had its first organizational success after several failures, the union rep was interviewed and talked about what made this time succeed after all the other times failed. Basically he said that the union DID for the workers in the lead up to the vote, providing them with food and weed in addition to their ideological aspirations.

Contrast to the interview with the worker from (iirc) a failed unionization attempt at an auto plant in Kentucky. Ideologically she backed the union 100%. She wanted the union, thought it would be a tremendous help to herself and the other workers there, yet she voted against it. Essentially what she said was "I wanted the union, but I have cancer and the employer threatened to cut our healthcare if we unionized, and that would kill me."

And that's the major stumbling block for the socialist movement in the US right now is that it lacks the ability to materially provide what it ideologically aspires towards. It isn't a defect in theory or lack of zeal, it's just materially unable to. So in spite of a lot of theoretical support for socialism and its ideals, that support hasn't translated into success for the movement, in large part because even when socialists are successful at the polls, the political system as a whole is designed to make translating that success into the sort of material changes which would threaten to unseat the bourgeois parties.

One such example is that the socialists actually did win in Nevada a few years ago. Socialists within the Democratic Party managed to unseat the bourgeois party representatives, and the party responded by basically robbing and starving them of resources, and all the experienced bureaucrats the party's representatives rely on to function all quit. The result was that last year all the elected socialists got unseated in turn by Democrat regulars because they weren't able to parlay their electoral success into actual material gains.

In my opinion the threat of actual material improvements for the working class and what that would entail is what freaked the Democrats out so badly about Bernie Sanders. As much as they squealed and cried about Trump, Sanders actually terrified them. It wasn't his label as a socialist, because to Americans the "Socialist" label is meaningless, just a stand in for whatever scary Bad Thing. What horrified them was a socialist politician getting within spitting distance of having the power to actually provide people with material improvements to their lives. The Democrats aren't afraid to promise or "fight for" a $15 minimum wage or "access to health care," but they are deeply terrified of someone actually providing it.

And I think that is shown both historically with groups like the Black Panthers and the violent reaction generated by their childhood lunch programs, but more recently with the success of the Amazon Union.

The real impediment to socialist political success is that political success itself is insufficient to materialize concrete gains for the people that vote for them, and getting bogged down in "culture war" superficialities exacerbates that. That isn't to say that trans people or their needs should be abandoned, but rather that they need to be a) put in the proper context and b) can't be combated on bourgeois terms.

In 2020 and 2024 both, the Democrats offered trans people nothing except the threadbare hope that by voting for them, they'd be spared the worst predations of the Republicans. The proper socialist position would be that merely being spared from harm isn't enough. Trans people suffer particularly from poverty for example, so merely keeping their circumstances from worsening is insufficient, but that they needs must be improved.

In the current calculus of the American political system, this is theoretically appealing to the average voter. As long as helping trans people doesn't come at their own expense, Americans would generally support such a thing. The problem is whether explicitly known or not, voting for a socialist proposing such a thing would be a losing proposition even if they won. I frequently hear people that they intellectually support third party candidates for example, but "they can't win." Even if a socialist were able to win election to legislature, they would be hamstrung by the fact that they're an enemy of "both sides" with a material interest in seeing them ejected in short order. There are some exceptions like Sawant or Sanders, but that's the general rule.

What I think this means is that at this stage there's an overemphasis on winning political power and trying to beat the bourgeois parties at their own game. I think the social and political organization of the working class is too immature for that at this stage. Rather we must develop the sort of ecosystem of material benefit and support which solves people's problems outside of a hostile electoral system. This doesn't mean electoral politics should be abandoned completely, but rather than winning elections as an end in itself must be de-emphasized.

Returning to the problem of trans poverty for example. I think what would enhance a socialist party's success would be starting a program of partnership with amenable unions to secure trans people positions within them and their industries. This would solve multiple problems at once by providing this theoretical union with members that have incentives to participate and support it, if only out of their own self interest. They'd be indebted to the party for the assistance and if not ideologically converted at least incentivized to support the party in turn. Ideally this would also help the union and the party foster a mutually supportive relationship which would further the goals of both.

The point being, as long as socialist orgs are focused primarily on political contests they can't win, the development of broader working class organization is going to remain retarded. All the small, disparate working class elements existing in the US have to start developing networks of mutual aid and coordination, pooling their resources to in order to provide actual material support to workers outside of whatever crumbs they're able to wrest from the bourgeois state, because otherwise we're resigning ourselves to a Sisyphean political struggle we're unlikely to win.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 8 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

It was inevitable that Jinwoo would introduce you to Yoo Jinho.

As you stood there, the lower half of your face concealed by a laced black mask patterned with butterflies, you had to hide your grin. The mask, enchanted with illusion magic, ensured that most people couldn’t recognize or remember your face easily, except those you wanted to be recognized by.

Perhaps it was because you were mentally older than your physical age in this world, or maybe you were just prone to cuteness aggression. E-rank Jinwoo had been spared only because you couldn’t reveal yourself at the time. But now, facing Jinho, you really wanted to squish his boyish face. Thankfully, you managed to rein that urge in.

You could almost see Jinho’s thought process as he saw Jinwoo with you. Jinho’s tendency to misinterpret situations had been a refreshing comic relief in the manhwa, but now wasn’t the time to focus on that.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Child,” you said, ruffling Jinho’s hair and making him stumble forward slightly. Perhaps you exerted too much force?

Jinho blinked, his eyes wide with surprise. “Ah, uh, yes! I mean, no! I mean...”

You chuckled softly, scanning your surroundings. The people hired just to fulfill the requirements of raiding a gate had already started to mind their own business, used to the routine by now, barely sparing you or Jinwoo a second glance.

That was fine; the less attention, the better. But your gaze caught Han Song-Yi standing a little farther off. You smiled beneath your mask and gave a small wave. But when you saw Han Song-Yi, you smiled behind your mask and waved. She seemed surprised before hesitantly waving back.

You turned to Jinwoo, who was already in front of the gate, waiting for Jinho and you.

As you approached, Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”

"Shall we?" you asked quietly, stepping up beside him.

Jinho, still flustered, scrambled to stand beside you. “Ready, Hyung!”

The butterflies embroidered on your mask seemed to shimmer for a moment as you prepared yourself for the challenge that lay ahead.

---

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jinho. I'm (Name)."

Yoo Jinho's mind was already swirling with a dozen thoughts the moment his Hyung introduced you. Jinwoo rarely worked with others, so your presence threw him off.

(Name). No last name. A C-rank healer, not widely known, but Jinho had heard a few whispers about you. Word was that you had a nurturing, kind disposition every time the South Korean Hunter Association dispatched you for backup in raids.

His first impression? You looked like a professional. Your combat-ready outfit was practical, and the long coat draped over it hinted at versatility, allowing freedom of movement. There was no visible armor, but the way you held yourself, with your hair styled elegantly yet suitable for combat, spoke volumes. Even with the mask obscuring part of your face, Jinho sensed you were what most would consider a subtle beauty.

"(Name) will be joining our raids from now on," Jinwoo stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world..

Wait, what?

His Hyung, who had always preferred to raid solo, was now bringing someone along—and acting like it was a routine occurrence?!

Did you and his Hyung perhaps—

Before Jinho could finish the thought, you ruffled his hair fondly, startling him with the unexpected strength behind your gesture.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Child.”

“Ah, uh, yes! I mean, no! I mean…” Jinho stumbled over his words, clearly flustered.

You chuckled softly, your demeanor warm.

That was how the day began.

Jinho spent most of the raid gawking as you and Jinwoo seamlessly coordinated your attacks. He watched in awe as you effortlessly took down enemies alongside Jinwoo. More impressive was how naturally Jinwoo seemed to work with you, almost as if the two of you had been doing this for years. It was like watching a finely tuned machine in action, with both parts working perfectly in sync.

For a moment, he felt a little lost. What was he supposed to do when his hyung and you didn’t seem to need backup?

Then, as if sensing his uncertainty, you approached him. “Hey, Jinho? Thank you. Jinwoo might not say it out loud, but I’m sure he appreciates your company all this time.”

Jinho perked up at your words, feeling a surge of pride, only to become flustered when he heard you giggle. You were trying to be discreet, but it was clear you found his reaction amusing.

Another time, during another raid, you commented on Jinho’s armor—more out of thoughtfulness than criticism. “That’s some expensive armor you’ve got there,” you remarked, noticing his attire.

Jinho, eager to explain, mentioned the high-end gear he had bought back when he first started working with Jinwoo. His hyung had thought it was excessive, but Jinho wanted to be prepared.

You hummed thoughtfully. “It won’t hurt to be a bit more prepared,” you said, and before he knew it, you pulled something out of thin air—a small, unassuming butterfly brooch.

Jinho’s eyes widened. How did you do that? He had never seen anything quite like it. You pinned the brooch to his clothes with a graceful motion. “It’s imbued with some spatial magic,” you explained. “Try clicking it three times.”

Curious, Jinho did as you said., and his eyes lit up as his expensive armir were replaced by a sleek, high-quality combat suit. The fabric was sturdy yet comfortable, allowing for easy movement. He marveled at how perfect it felt.

“How… how did you do that?” Jinho marveled at the suit, admiring its design and function.

You bring a finger to your lips.

“Don’t worry. Your current wear was just switched out, it’s in there if you want to switch again.”

Before he could offer to pay you back, you raised a hand to stop him. "Just take it as a thank you, for always accompanying Jinwoo. If that’s not enough, consider it an advance payment for your continued help in the future."

From that day on, Jinho started calling you Noona. He couldn’t help it—you had earned his respect and admiration. Plus, you always looked out for him, even when it wasn’t necessary. You had a way of making him feel important, part of the team, even though he knew you and Jinwoo were leagues ahead.

You weren’t just cool. To Jinho, you were someone he could look up to.

Even Jinwoo seemed to tolerate it, though you noticed a slight twitch in his expression whenever Jinho said it, making you suspect that Jinwoo wasn’t as indifferent as he let on.

---

"Woah, who's that?" "She looks so cool..."

You could hear the whispers as you removed your helmet after parking your motorcycle in the parking lot. The students stared, intrigued by the mysterious figure you cut against the backdrop of their daily lives. Your eyes, however, were trained solely on the building in front of you.

It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more prepared, you reminded yourself, as you often did.

---

Inside the school, Jinwoo didn’t expect to run into you. He had come for Jinah’s parent-teacher meeting, but here you were, in a place that seemed far from your usual.

You spotted him almost immediately.

“What are you doing here?”

"Straightforward as always. I'm here on personal business," you said, offering a brief, cryptic smile.

He raised an eyebrow, the suspicion clear in his eyes. “Personal business? At this high school?”

Before he could question you further, Jinah’s voice broke through the conversation. “Oppa!” she called out, jogging toward them. Jinwoo sighed, shifting his attention to his sister. You, meanwhile, stood a little off to the side, watching the sibling banter unfold with an amused glint in your eyes.

Jinah quickly noticed you standing there, and her eyes lit up with recognition. “Wait—are you the cool unnie my friends keep talking about?!” she asked, her voice filled with excitement. "They said you visited the school a few times!"

You smiled warmly at her. "That might be me," you said, not denying it. “I’m (Name),” you said, offering your hand to Jinah. “Nice to meet you.”

Jinah took your hand eagerly, her curiosity piqued, but you didn’t linger. “I’ve got some things to take care of, so I’ll leave you two to your meeting,” you said, with a nod to both siblings before walking off toward the administrative wing.

Jinah turned to Jinwoo with wide eyes. “Do you know her, Oppa?”

Jinwoo only nodded, his gaze following you until you disappeared around a corner. His instincts told him there was more to your presence here than you were letting on.

---

Later, as Jinwoo sat in the meeting room speaking with Jinah’s teacher, your name came up again—though this time in a different context.

“Miss (Name)?” the teacher asked, recognizing the confusion on Jinwoo’s face. "She’s one of the school’s key investors. A remarkable woman. She funds a portion of the scholarship program for students with financial difficulties. She was here today to inspect how the program was progressing.”

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow at the revelation. He certainly didn’t expect to hear that you were involved in something like that. He had always sensed that you were up to more than you let on, but this? He didn’t imagine you were the philanthropic type—

Okay, he had been on the receiving end of that exact action for the past few years, but still!

After the meeting, at the teacher’s request, Jinwoo briefly met with Han Song-Yi. After they talked, Jinwoo felt a sudden shift in the air. A butterfly—one of yours—fluttered into the room and landed on his shoulder. It was your usual method of contacting him without drawing attention, and he had come to expect it.

---

Jinwoo followed the butterfly, and soon enough, he found you waiting just outside the school, leaning casually against the establishment’s wall, your arms crossed. The street empty.

“I heard from Song-Yi that you're planning to take her into a dungeon soon.”

"Since when have you been in contact with Han Song-Yi?" he said, getting straight to the point.

You didn’t flinch under his scrutiny. “She’s got potential,” you answered casually. “She reminds me of someone… so I decided to lend a hand.”

Jinwoo’s suspicion deepened. “You’ve been helping her?”

“I’ve been making sure she has the opportunities she deserves. Just as I’m helping others.”

Before he could react, you handed him an impressive stack of homemade meals, each one neatly packed for travel. "These are imbued with magic, of course," you said casually, as though giving enchanted meals was the most normal thing in the world.

"...Isn't this too much?" Jinwoo asked, looking between you and the stack of containers.

You scoffed lightly, almost rolling your eyes. “You never know what might happen. Besides, it’s for your other raid members too." For a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw his expression twitch, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Was he annoyed? Amused? It was hard to tell with Jinwoo sometimes. "You can store them in your system’s inventory. I see no problem."

As if that wasn’t enough, you produced a small pouch filled with shimmering stones. "And here. Mana gems, made by me. Break them if you’re low on mana. Otherwise, they’re versatile—use them however you see fit."

Jinwoo stared at the gems for a moment, before closing his hand around them. “You’re not coming?”

"No. Not this time."

There was a brief silence as your words hung in the air. Before he could respond, you gave a slight wave, already turning to leave.

“Have a safe journey, Jinwoo,” you said softly over your shoulder, disappearing into a flurry of butterflies before he could say anything more.

Jinwoo stood there for a moment, watching the last flutter of your butterfly vanish into the distance.

---

You stood at the edge of the red gate with <Illusory> activated, arms crossed as you stared at the shimmering barrier before you. The system’s all too familiar message blinked in your vision, barring you from entering.

[Access Denied, Trial Player.]

Figures.

You had expected this. The system had been unpredictable at times, but this was one of the moments you knew too well—it wouldn’t let you intervene directly when it came to certain pivotal moments in the story, like this red gate.

“Well,” you muttered to yourself, “that’s why I prepared those meals and mana gems.”

You could only hope they would be enough to make a difference, lightening the load on Jinwoo’s shoulders while he navigated the dangers inside. He’d grow stronger through this trial, but you didn’t like the idea of just standing on the sidelines.

---

Inside the red gate, Han Song-Yi took a bite of the meal you had sent through Jinwoo, her eyes widening in amazement. “Oppa, this is amazing!” she exclaimed between mouthfuls. “I’ve never tasted anything like it!”

The rest of the party, seated around their small campsite, were similarly engrossed in their meals. It wasn’t just the taste that astonished them—it was the feeling of being energized, as if the food itself was somehow infused with power.

For a moment, they all forgot they were stuck in a deadly red gate, too busy enjoying the brief reprieve you had provided.

Meanwhile, Jinwoo sat on the outskirts of the camp, watching his shadow soldiers march silently in the distance. He had been taking the opportunity to level up while they hunkered down in a safe area. The enemies within the red gate were tougher, as expected, but that was precisely what he needed to test the maximum potential of his shadows.

It wasn’t long before he had acquired new soldiers to add to his ever-growing army.

As he observed his surroundings, Jinwoo’s gaze landed on the mana gems you had given him. They had proven more versatile than he initially thought. holding them for a few moments seemed to give him a temporary stat boost. The warmth that radiated from the gems was also useful, especially given the freezing environment inside the red gate.

The most surprising discovery, however, was that the gems could recharge themselves. Even after they had grown cold, they would warm up again in an hour or two, ready to be used once more. Jinwoo eyed at the small, glowing stone between his fingers, his thoughts drifting back to you.

How does she do it? Jinwoo wondered, turning the gem over in his hand. It glowed faintly with residual energy, pulsing slightly as if alive. The craftsmanship was unlike anything he had seen before.

Jinwoo pocketed the gem. There was always a sense of assurance that comes with you. The meals and gems you had provided, along with his newly strengthened soldiers, he knew they stood a better chance at survival.

With each passing moment, the line between curiosity and fascination grew thinner.

---

You knew how things would unfold, like in the story you once knew. Still—

Stay strong, Jinwoo, you thought, turning away from the gate. You had done everything you could from the outside. Now, it was up to him.

---

In the heat of the battle with Baruka and his army of ice elves, Jinwoo instinctively crushed one of your mana gems, expecting the usual mana regeneration to help keep his shadow soldiers going. What emerged, however, wasn't just an influx of replenishing energy but dozens of your familiar butterflies.

They swarmed out with a grace Jinwoo had grown accustomed to. While he focused on defeating Baruka, the butterflies spread through the battlefield, weaving between the ice elves. Some of them fluttered around the elves, casting illusions that confused their enemies, while others began draining life force, transferring that energy to Jinwoo's shadow soldiers, all while simultaneously regenerating Jinwoo's mana. It was an unexpected but welcome bonus.

Then something else that happened: a few butterflies, glowing faintly and without hesitation, imbued themselves directly into his daggers. The familiar system notification popped up.

[System Notice: Trial Player’s summons have used <Indwelling>. Your weapon has been enhanced.]

The magic now coating his weapons shimmered, adapting to the weaknesses of the enemies Jinwoo faced. The attack stats of his daggers surged, responding fluidly to the situation at hand. With each strike, the butterflies seemed to anticipate Jinwoo’s movements, boosting his strength at just the right moments.

The thrill of battle coursed through his veins even more intensely than before.

---

After Baruka’s defeat, Jinwoo tried to extract the ice elf’s shadow. To his irritation, the extraction failed, leaving him frustrated. But something else quickly caught his attention.

He noticed the butterflies again—fluttering around his shadow soldiers. The red one, always lingering near Igris, hovered quietly. But Jinwoo’s eyes were drawn to two new butterflies: one settled on the newest addition to his soldiers’ nose, making the large shadow blink in confusion, while another perched on the biggest shadow ice bear’s ear, which twitched periodically in response. It was subtle, but these butterflies seemed different, more distinct somehow.

If I can't extract Baruka's shadow, Jinwoo thought, can I at least make use of his remains?

His musings were suddenly interrupted by a voice that wasn’t his own.

“We can make a mana reservoir of his left-over life force, for future use, Sire.”

Jinwoo immediately stood on alert, scanning for the source of the voice. Was there another enemy nearby?

“At ease, Sire. We’re under orders from our Mistress to assist you.”

The realization hit Jinwoo like a tidal wave. Slowly, he turned his gaze to the red butterfly, now fluttering in front of him, its delicate wings moving calmly, as though it were the leader of the swarm.

Did... did your butterflies just...?

“Correct, Sire. We can communicate with you using the sub-skill: <Sensory Illusion>.”

The red butterfly drifted closer to Jinwoo, its shimmering wings catching the light of the dungeon. Even Igris seemed momentarily shocked by the sudden speech coming from one of the familiars, his shadowy form tense.

The red butterfly hovered in front of Jinwoo, as though bowing slightly before him. It spoke again, this time with more clarity, its tone eerily reminiscent of you. "Let us confirm, Sire. Would you like us to make a condensed reservoir of the enemy’s remains?"

It paused for a brief moment, as if allowing Jinwoo to process the information. Then it added, “With Our Lady’s current skills, she can surely make something of it that will be helpful to you in some way.”

Jinwoo's eyes narrowed slightly. This butterfly was sly—cunning, even. He smirked slightly. Even your summons had your subtle charm.

"Do it."

The butterfly bobbed once, almost like a respectful bow, before flitting away to relay the message to the rest of the swarm. Jinwoo watched as they began their work, weaving magic that siphoned the residual energy from Baruka's remains.

Once again, you had surprised him, even in your absence.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [020/10/2024] -

[ursula-legun]

very much could be wrong about this, but IIRC much of the benefits for deer (and, I'm assuming for now, similarly positioned cervids) in this situation apply at a population level, rather than an individual level.

For areas where natural predators are present at a level that effects deer behavior - while individual deer may experience fear, death, injury, etcetera, deer in general are more mobile, less prone towards certain (extremely dense) levels of congregation, and have a smaller population per area.

This stabilizes the availability of browsable/foragable food, and diminishes the prevalence of some diseases which propagate more readily through dense populations. For example, the growing prevalence of chronic wasting disease is thought to be bolstered by a lack of anxiety in deer; that lack of anxiety is allowing deer to socialize in larger groups and for longer periods of time, as well as spend more time in one area (CWD spreads at least partially via feces and saliva.) This increases the number of transmission vectors as well as the duration of exposure for each vector; so while the emotional experience of each deer may be more dramatic, and likely much more frightening, the health of the deer overall is significantly improved by that fear.

From a philosophical perspective - or ethological, take your pick - I also don't think we should assume that the human experiences surrounding anxiety and pursuit necessarily map well onto the internal experiences of nonhuman animals. Some naturalists/ecologists I was studying with a few years specifically highlighted this very context when talking about the importance of, and difficulties pertaining to, trying to not project human decisionmaking on nonhuman life.

To paraphrase, at length, one of the lessons they taught - we can't directly see the motivations of deer, let alone the interiority of their experience. All we can see is the decisions they make, and we try our best to infer from there. We often see deer flee from mild stimuli, and we therefore assume that deer live in a state of constant terror and anxiety, the conditions that would create a similar sort of behavior in us. But we are not deer! Our bodies are not predisposed towards flight in the way deer are; deer are suited to run far faster, and more frequently, than humans, and it seems safer to assume that they flee at a different threshold of internal motivation, if not an entirely different quality of motivation altogether.

This first sort of assumption is the exact kind of thinking that is warned against when people talk about the dangers of anthropomorphization. There's also the influence of societal views on violence and predation; violence in humans is often framed as something that's a guilty pleasure, a base desire that needs to be abstained from for the good of society, except when it's "unfortunately necessary" (for whatever conditions any group considers to be necessary.) This is frequently projected wholesale onto nonhuman, and especially interspecies, depictions of violence; to give a slightly exaggerated description of this current context as an example, it is presumed that the natural inclination of deer is to be grazing restfully, and that this is both pleasurable and right. It is then presumed that the Violent Predator, due to their unconscionable desires, intrudes upon this restful state by pursuing the deer; we consider this to be offensive from the deer's perspective, and vaguely immoral - if, at best, "unfortunately necessary" - when we judge the actions of the predator.

However....there are other ways of looking at this. Deer run at the slightest provocation, often "spooking" at stimuli as minimal as e.g. a falling branch. Why do we assume that this is unpleasant to them? What if they're constantly waiting around for something to happen, so that they have a reason to get going? What if being chased actually feels good as fuck, to a deer? After all, we assume that the act of hunting - as an obligate predator - is, experientially, indulgent. Something that "shouldn't" be done, but is excused regardless. Is this not dismissive of the circumstances the predator is in, and how that might feel? Or the agency and ability that the prey can bring into play?

(An earlier version of this reply was oversimplifying stuff in this part to the point of just being wrong, and had me saying some things about deer behavior [especially herd dynamics] that I'm not actually sure of, which I've edited out.)

Undoubtedly, running for your life is terrifying, and we can be certain that prey animals in these situations are activated - stressed, displaying agitation, etc. None of the above is meant to imply that elk or deer would voluntarily choose to be pursued by wolves. Rather, I just want to highlight that the interaction between predator and prey is not necessarily as emotionally - or morally - lopsided as it is often portrayed as being. Being pursued by a wolf is terrifying, yes, but if you are a pursuit animal, and if you get away....could it not also be fun? And chasing another animal as a predator seems like a powerful, exciting position to be in, at first brush - but in the long run, the lives of the predators are also at stake in the pursuit. Genuinely, I don't want to replace one anthropomorphic projection with another, but I think we can be confident that the dynamics of predator/prey relationships are at the very least interesting to both parties - engaging, maybe even enriching.

All this is to say that the "cost" of predator reintroduction - in terms of stress on individual prey - is most likely not going to be accurately framed in terms of human emotional valence; moreover, cultural assumptions in the interpretation of pleasure, violence, and morality are a strong bias in untangling the emotional framework that is projected onto these relationships. From my perspective, it seems that most consideration given to the experiences of prey animals in these situations is based in just substituting what we, as humans, would expect to feel in that situation; which seems to be both more and less than what can actually be said.

So, yeah, I do think that people should be proud of ecological shifts that generate these large changes in behavior - human hunters have obviously done a poor job of emulating the dynamics created by these predators; and at the bare minimum, I wouldn't assume that the difference in emotional landscape is worth the ongoing ecological harm of not having these dynamics in play.

(Also worthy of consideration are things like the predator's right to exist, diversity of interior experience as a value unto itself, the fundamental right of all species to a life that has "meaning" and what that could actually entail, cross-species modeling of stress as enrichment, microecological effects of pursuit and predation, etc....but. I think I've rambled enough lol.)

Around the same time as the wolves were released, the mountain lion population, once hunted to local extinction, was becoming re-established as well – having crept back in from wilderness areas in central Idaho. Under these twin pressures, over a period of about 15 years, elk numbers halved.

Those that did survive behaved differently, too: when the wolves were on the prowl, they retreated to the dimly lit comfort of the woods, where they might wander in clandestine bands. They avoided the cougars, most active at night, by steering clear of landmarks where they might be trapped or surprised from above in the dark – ravines, outcrops, embankments. No longer did they live in an environment defined by its waterholes and pastures, or even by its ridgelines and ravines, but by areas now suffused with danger and relief. A psychological topology, this – one marked with hillocks of anxiety and peaks of alarm. Ecologists know this as “the landscape of fear”.

proudly talking about reintroducing carnivores has made the herbivores really anxious really drives home the question of whether it’s moral to torture other creatures for our convenience.

you might oppose farming, but make the farm really big and remove the visible fences have the prey harried to death instead of quickly stunned and that’s… better?

[flowercrowncrip]

Hi, may I ask what your thoughts are on Neuralink?

I actually have a lot of thoughts on this. Maybe not completely coherent thoughts, but a lot of thoughts nonetheless.

Firstly I think that a Brain computer interface has an awful lot of potential to do a lot of good for severely disabled people. I use voice control, but that gets tricky when I have a sore throat or my neurological disorders impacts my speech. I also don't get the same privacy when using Technologies as other people do. Eye tracking and switch control exists, but like voice control they also have severe limitations, like time and movement requirements. If Brain computer interfaces get to the stage where using them becomes quick and seamless it opens up communication, the ability to control your environment, as well as Internet access and an online life to an awful lot of people, which would be an absolutely amazing thing.

Would I personally get a brain implant to access this? No, right now Voice control is a much less risky option for me. Even if I lose that speaking ability, I think that I'd much rather use non-invasive technology like external sensors than put myself through any kind of brain surgery that isn't a medical necessity, even if it didn't work quite as well. But I'm not in that position, and unlikely to be any time soon, so it might be that if it does happen I would become prepared to go through surgery to relieve things like boredom and social isolation. I can absolutely see why other people would be prepared to go through brain surgery and implants to gain access to a computer, and posts I've seen with people making fun of those who are signing up for these medical trials make me quite angry. Computer access and communication is completely life changing.

When it comes to NeuroLink itself, I'm deeply sceptical of a lot of things. The biggest one is I don't think that Elon Musk is doing this out of the goodness of his heart, that is I don't think that improving the lives of severely disabled people is the main goal here. I think the main goal is making money and feeding the ego of Musk and his tech bro associates. They want to be seen as heroes performing Christlike miracles of intellect to help save the poor invalids from a fate worse than death, and if desperate people are injured, get sick, or die because they've cut corners with the technology I don't think they'd be too upset. I also dread to think what kind of pay walls Subscriptions or other capitalist horrors are waiting around the corner with this. I doubt this technology is going to be cheap or subsidised.

So yeah, I don't think the technology is a waste of time, and I completely see why people would want to use it. But I do think it's been rushed, and developed for the wrong reasons which worries me enough that I wouldn't sign up for it now, and I probably wouldn't even if I lost the ability to speak, although I also wouldn't say that I would definitely never do it if that was my only way of good quality access to technology Communication and the Internet

[another-damn-fandom]

Theory about BJBJBJ

When it comes to the prospect of BJBJBJ, I've seen fans mention five things:

Lydia should realize her feelings for Beetlejuice.

Lydia and Beetlejuice should become a kick-ass team against something big.

More Delores, she was under utilized. (Even if that means some Delores/Rory.)

The third wedding has to be different than the previous two.

Beetlejuice can't be enthusiastic about the prospect of marriage this time.

Which all make sense. Rule of three, more bad ass character developments, fool me three times, etc.

But what if you combined them?

Here's what I'm thinking:

At some point, some how, Lydia confesses that she's had a devastating crush on Beetlejuice this entire time and has been too terrified to mention it. Either because she didn't want to disappoint the Maitlands, or Chuck and Delia, or just basic self preservation and the hopes that he'd go away. But something has happened recently and now she's got to admit it to someone. And how much it has screwed up her mental health for not admitting it and facing it.

The someone she talks to (Astrid? Delia? Jane?) mentions that she needs to talk to Beetlejuice about this in order to get on with her life.

Lydia agrees. Then she doesn't.

Delores shows up and now she has a way to drastically hurt/kill Beetlejuice. (Possibly with Rory's help.) Her first attempt to do so is unsuccessful, but it shows that the Ghost With The Most is on a ticking clock, unless someone comes up with a solution. He mentions this to Lydia and asks for her help.

She says, sure, let's get married.

He says it's not going to work this time.

Whatever Delores did, it closed a part of the original marriage loophole for Beetlejuice. Sure, there are other ways for breathers to bring the deceased back to the world of the living via marriage. But those require both the living party and the dead one to be desperately in love with each other, and BJ admits that Lydia's lukewarm feelings means he doesn't qualify for that.

Lydia, like a liar, agrees.

So they agree to team up together to save Beetlejuice's life. Lots of shenanigans in the world of the living while Beetlejuice hides in the world of the dead to ensure Keaton's No More Than 17 minutes rule.

Eventually the plot corners them into a situation where the only option is to get married. Lydia is in a black dress (important!), Astrid and possibly Delia are with them, and all is lost. But there is some sort of church or justice of the peace nearby and, with everyone but Beetlejuice aware of Lydia's feelings, they go for a Hail Mary play.

Beetlejuice fights them the entire time. The bylaws of the underworld state that it would kill Lydia, him, or both of them to attempt a loveless marriage right now. But he knows they're running out of options, perma-death is inevitable for all of them, and the romantic in him would like to die marrying the woman he loves.

So Lydia more or less drags a "We can't! Not that I don't I want to. We'll die! Ooo, nice wedding rings, babes. Nooooo!" Beetlejuice to the altar.

Bonus points if Lydia says something like "C'mon, c'mon..." or "Let's keep it rolling, rev!" during the ceremony to mirror what Beetlejuice said during the first movie.

The terrified officiant reluctantly, barely, marries them.

They kiss to seal the union. Something otherworldly, lovely, romantic happens during the kiss, proving it worked.

Then Beetlejuice and Lydia suddenly and dramatically get dragged back into the world of the dead.

Lydia's black dress turns red the second she's in the underworld.

And anything she wears immediately turns red every time she re-enters the underworld moving forward.

Why?

It mirrors the poncho dress Lydia wore in the cartoon when she visited the underworld.

It implies that BJ thought that he could engineer true love by finding someone who was a good match on paper, dressing them like someone who loved him, and hoping for the best. (Which is why alllll of his past weddings failed.)

It implies that the most important part about loving and building a life with someone is giving them the option to choose you then letting them make that choice of their own free will. And that true love doesn't happen unless you do that.

It gives the audience a new red wedding dress without there being another red wedding.

When she's in the world of the dead, Lydia is better off wed.

Wolf or another dead denizen explains that their marriage has given them the extra juice they needed to take on Delores in a Boss Fight. It also allows the two of them to travel freely between the world of the living and the dead without repercussions. (With a few extra bells and whistles so we can get a bunch of cool action sequences with practical effects.)

As they're given their marching orders for the movie's climax, BJ is just... stunned.

"Wait. You actually like me? How long have you liked me?"

BJ eventually focuses on the task at hand, but as they fight for their lives, every so often Lydia looks over and sees him grinning like an idiot and doing this:

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Bonus- Chapter 32

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Yes it is 8 am and yes I am eating chicken gnocchi soup for breakfast. I stand that soup is and always will be a breakfast food.

No hot drinks today! This wedding required a feast :'3

I can't believe this is it! The series finale if you will.

I have been waiting 32 chapters for this moment. at last!!!

This man (SQQ) has been sleeping with this other man for what- months(?) years(?) at this point and he is STILL over here totally bewildered at the fact that LBH does not want to marry a woman. p355

This is kind of sweet though. I'm so glad Cang Qiong Mountain sect has embraced these two absolute weirdos. I love that they can visit now! It warms my romantic heart that they can travel for a while and then come "home" for a time. p355

omg these two are so embarrassing. The way in which LBH is asking him to marry him is so awkward. p359

oh no, now I feel like an asshole because LBH was SO NERVOUS the days leading up to him asking. (granted totally fair with how SQQ acts towards him/about their relationship- I too would not know if he wanted to actually marry me or not in this situation). I just want to pinch LBH's cheeks though, why is he so cute. p360

aaaaaah- this is so cute. SQQ being actually happy about him asking instead of trying to gaslight himself and side step his feelings or "reluctantly" agreeing to marry LBH pp360-361

my heaaaaaaaart LBH's confession pp362-363

The fact that LBH had wedding outfits ready. I need to know two things; 1. where/how did he get them and 2. how long has he had them and had this planned. p363

I truly don't know if MXTX has written a tender sex scene. Why does it always have to be a little traumatic? Granted I have only read SVSSS and MDZS BUT both of these series have either uncomfortable (SVSSS) or just have freak4freak energy (MDZS-but I will take this over crying and bleeding) there's never something soft and lubed. I hope that TGCH has something (no spoilers pls) but my bar is so low. (okay but wangxian was fine for the most part- they just were also dry and mutually unhinged). pp366-367

NO LOL the wife-ing of SQQ. p370

Okay okay- the ending was so sweet. The little shy embarrassed SQQ calling Binghe husband and him pretending not to hear. My headcanon is that eventually over time SQQ feels less and less embarrassed, works through his internalized homophobia, and learns to say what he actually feels more often. Even without my hopes and dreams, I still think this ending was such good character growth for SQQ.

Holy shit we did it!

Thank you to everyone who joined me on this reading journey. It has been so fun getting to read the books along with you and talk about the experience.

I am a little bit sad that it is over :'3

I do however, now have a pile of fanfic to start working through and am so stoked to continue this journey via fan works. Thank you, thank you to everyone who sent me fics to read!!

In terms of what is next- I will likely spend some time reading SVSSS fanfic- if I get to a point where like Wangxian, I have hundreds of fics in my collection, I may start recing Bingqiu!

BUT in terms of danmei, I am hoping to read TGCF next and round out my MXTX collection (likely end of December start)!

This has been such an amazing experience that I will continue to live blog future danmei series :)

Thank you thank you again!

[brooklynisher]

post this hatchair in your favourite blog's inbox when they least expect it

(mwahahah!! you get one right back >:))

(you don't have to send it to someone else again if you don't want to shdfdsf)

REALLY??????

[crystalpallette]

get you a girl who can give you everything

this started a long long time ago when I made a joke about how sega should put ringo in more dresses, and then my friend reminded me that oh yeah!! I can do that instead!!! and then one thing led to another and we joked about punk ringo and I drew that too. using ringo like a dressup doll is so cathartic it's kinda crazy

some bonuses (original designs, timelapse) under the cut bc I like these designs!! I might do some more with them!! please disregard the band poster in the first second of the timelapse that's something else!!!

[dawnthefluffyduck]

I think i doubt my ability to work faster under stress too much

[fjordfolk]

100% don't punish the growl and listen to your dog and your puppy is not an evil mastermind AND ALSO seeing how Melis behaved today and latey, feeling very validated in our approach to her outbursts of screaming thrashing gnashing teeth being less "sorry sorry never mind" and more "ok buddy are u sure though"

time will tell if she has another ride on the melty brain hormone train coming (Sparta didn't - but she might) but at this moment in time, Melis is a pretty tolerant, people-oriented, socially intelligent little dog who's displaying some very pleasant traits. and who has not growled or snarled or gotten near threshold in many months. at this rate our worst puppy might end up our best dog

[disdaidal]

So, I met my nurse today and she said I'm finally getting scheduled for the ADHD testing on Dec 18th—after all these years. Albeit she said that it may not change a thing, but it's good to test it anyway.

I also had a discussion with my teacher today about my problems and we went through some stuff, and I might feel a little bit more enlightened about some things, which will hopefully help me.

Still. I'm having trouble with planning some stuff at my workplace because the staff there simply doesn't have time, and my instructor is also a very busy person (plus she's fussy and impatient and a little upset/disappointed with me which is not making it any easier for me), so that is still giving me a lot of stress right now.

So, I don't know. On the other hand, one teacher says I'm doing a good job and that I shouldn't quit. Then again, this particular school and their style of teaching simply might not be the thing for me and I expressed that concern today as well. I need help getting through with some stuff and nobody has time for me, so it's obviously not good.

I also need to find another place to train soon and that workplace would have to be something where I wouldn't have to manage 15 things at the same time and well. Finding that could be a challenge, too.

But. I suppose we're going somewhere.