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sensualnoiree · 11 months ago

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Aries:

Key Themes: New Beginnings, Initiative & Action, Cardinal Fire Sign, Leadership, Vibrancy & Vitality, Boldness & Courage, Sudden Bursts of Power, Spontaneity, Quick Decision Making, Spark of Inspiration, Pioneering, Risk-Taking, Passion & Enthusiasm, Empowering Energy.

Symbolism & Archetype: Aries embodies the essence of the "pioneer" and "warrior." It signifies the spark of life and the birth of new cycles. The assertive and action-oriented nature of Aries is linked to its role as the first sign of the zodiac, where the journey begins. As a Cardinal Fire sign, Aries initiates action with a fiery zeal, often acting as a trailblazer in any situation.

Esoteric Perspective: The mantra "I come forth, and from the Plane of Mind I rule" encapsulates Aries' journey of self-realization and mastery of will. Aries is where divine ideas are born, and its energy drives the manifestation of the divine will. The "Heart in the Head Lotus" represents the spiritual awakening and higher consciousness that Aries can achieve when aligned with its higher purpose.

Taurus:

Key Themes: Fixed Earth Sign, Venus Ruled, Grounded & Stable, Appreciation for Nature, Enduring, Stubbornness & Reliability, Cultivation of Taste, Value for Quality, Slow & Steady Rhythm, Resistance to Change.

Symbolism & Archetype: Taurus is the "builder" and "preserver," embodying the energy of stability and endurance. As the Fixed Earth sign, Taurus is connected to the physical realm, emphasizing the importance of security, material wealth, and sensual pleasures. The bull symbolizes strength, patience, and a deep connection to the earth.

Esoteric Perspective: The phrase "I SEE, and when the eye is opened, all is illumined" reflects Taurus' journey toward spiritual illumination through the material world. Taurus is associated with desire, but this desire evolves into a drive for spiritual beauty and the synthesis of the divine within the physical form. The "penetrating Light of the Path" signifies Taurus' role in revealing the hidden mysteries of the heart.

Gemini:

Key Themes: Quick Learners, Social & Charming, Mercury Ruled, Communication, Intellect, Curiosity, Versatility, Adaptability, Dynamic & Changing Energy, Love of Learning.

Symbolism & Archetype: Gemini is the "communicator" and "trickster," representing the duality of mind and the flow of information. As a Mutable Air sign, Gemini is associated with the exchange of ideas, quick thinking, and adaptability. The twins symbolize the dual nature of Gemini, constantly exploring both sides of every situation.

Esoteric Perspective: The mantra "I recognize my other self and in the waning of that self I grow and glow" speaks to Gemini's journey of integrating the higher and lower selves. Gemini's energy is about relating and connecting, overcoming the illusion of separation. It is linked to the heart of the Sun, symbolizing the central role of communication and connection in the sustenance of life.

Cancer:

Key Themes: The Crab, Intuitive & Sensitive, Moon Ruled, Emotional Sensitivity, Nurturing & Protective, Strong Attachment to Home & Family, Sentimental & Nostalgic.

Symbolism & Archetype: Cancer is the "nurturer" and "caretaker," embodying the energy of emotional depth and protection. As a Cardinal Water sign, Cancer is associated with the nurturing of life, whether it be through family, home, or emotional bonds. The crab symbolizes protection, retreat, and the cyclical nature of life.

Esoteric Perspective: The phrase "I build a lighted house and therein dwell" reflects Cancer's journey of creating a safe and sacred space for the soul. Cancer is where the light of the soul begins to shine within the form, illuminating the path of life. The sign is associated with the breath of life, signifying the connection between spirit, soul, and form.

Leo:

Key Themes: Fixed Fire Sign, The Sun, Leadership, Radiant Personality, Attention-Seeking, Bold, Creative, Passionate, Loyalty & Stability, Devoted in Relationships, Heart Chakra & Compassion.

Symbolism & Archetype: Leo is the "king" and "hero," representing the power of self-expression and leadership. As a Fixed Fire sign, Leo embodies the energy of creativity, confidence, and vitality. The lion symbolizes strength, nobility, and the desire to shine.

Esoteric Perspective: The mantra "I am That, and That Am I" reflects Leo's journey toward self-realization and spiritual mastery. Leo's energy is about illuminating the self and others, leading with the heart, and achieving self-mastery. The "will-to-rule and to dominate" signifies Leo's potential for self-control and the conditioning of the environment in alignment with the divine plan.

Virgo:

Key Themes: Mutable Earth Sign, Mercury Ruled, Attention to Detail & Discernment, Analytical, Practical, Connection to Digestion & Assimilation, Preparation for Judgment & Equinox, Diligence & Service.

Symbolism & Archetype: Virgo is the "healer" and "analyst," embodying the energy of service, organization, and purification. As a Mutable Earth sign, Virgo is associated with the practical application of knowledge, meticulous attention to detail, and the cultivation of order. The goddess Demeter symbolizes the nurturing and harvesting aspects of Virgo.

Esoteric Perspective: The phrase "I Am the Mother and the Child; I God - I Matter, Am" reflects Virgo's journey of integrating the spiritual and material worlds. Virgo's energy is about nurturing the divine potential within the material world, preparing for the revelation of the hidden spiritual reality. The sign is associated with the nurturing force of substance itself.

Libra:

Key Themes: Cardinal Air Sign, Venus Ruled, Balance & Weighing, Harmony & Fairness, Focus on Relationships & Social Harmony, Beauty, Art, & Aesthetics.

Symbolism & Archetype: Libra is the "diplomat" and "judge," embodying the energy of balance, harmony, and fairness. As a Cardinal Air sign, Libra is associated with the weighing of options, the pursuit of justice, and the importance of relationships. The scales symbolize equilibrium, duality, and the quest for fairness.

Esoteric Perspective: The mantra "I choose the way which leads between the two great lines of force" reflects Libra's journey of finding balance between opposing forces. Libra's energy is about achieving harmony between the soul and personality, creating a point of balance where spiritual opportunity arises. The sign is associated with the probationary path, where duality is known and choice is inevitable.

Scorpio:

Key Themes: Fixed Water Sign, Ruled by Mars, Intense, Mysterious, Deep Emotional Connections, Passion & Intensity, Resourceful, Strong Intuition, Power of Self-Transformation.

Symbolism & Archetype: Scorpio is the "transformer" and "warrior," embodying the energy of deep emotional intensity and the power of transformation. As a Fixed Water sign, Scorpio is associated with the exploration of the depths of the psyche, the confrontation of fears, and the process of rebirth. The scorpion symbolizes resilience, defense, and the ability to regenerate.

Esoteric Perspective: The mantra "Warrior am I and from the Battle I emerge Triumphant" reflects Scorpio's journey of inner transformation and spiritual triumph. Scorpio's energy is about the merging of the light of form, soul, and life, leading to the liberation of the soul from the lower worlds. The sign is associated with the trials and tests of the soul's journey, ultimately leading to triumph and liberation.

Sagittarius:

Key Themes: Mutable Fire Sign, Ruled by Jupiter, Outspoken, Adventurous, Philosophical, Freedom-Loving, Idealistic, Generous, Wanderlust, Spiritual Aspiration.

Symbolism & Archetype: Sagittarius is the "seeker" and "philosopher," embodying the energy of exploration, truth-seeking, and spiritual aspiration. As a Mutable Fire sign, Sagittarius is associated with the quest for knowledge, the pursuit of higher wisdom, and the desire for freedom. The archer symbolizes direction, focus, and the pursuit of lofty goals.

Esoteric Perspective: The mantra "I see the Goal. I reach that goal and then I see another" reflects Sagittarius' journey of continuous spiritual growth and expansion. Sagittarius' energy is about seeing the vision of the goal and directing one's course toward it, driven by an intuitive sense of direction. The sign is associated with idealism, spiritual aspiration, and the power to see beyond the present.

Capricorn:

Key Themes: Cardinal Earth Sign, Ruled by Saturn, Ambition & Persistence, Practical Applications, Duties & Responsibilities, Focus on Building Secure Structures & Financial Security, Connection to History & Ancestry.

Symbolism & Archetype: Capricorn is the "builder" and "strategist," embodying the energy of discipline, responsibility, and long-term achievement. As a Cardinal Earth sign, Capricorn is associated with the pursuit of goals, the importance of structure, and the mastery of the material world. The mountain goat symbolizes perseverance, ambition, and the climb to the top.

Esoteric Perspective: The phrase "Lost am I in light supernal, yet on that light I turn my back" reflects Capricorn's journey of achieving spiritual enlightenment and the responsibility of turning back to serve humanity. Capricorn's energy is about balancing the light of the personality and the soul, leading to the experience of the mountain top, where spiritual initiation takes place. The sign is associated with the triumph of spiritual will over material limitations.

Aquarius:

Key Themes: Fixed Air Sign, Ruled by Uranus, Humanitarianism, Idealism, Connection to Higher Thought & Collective Ideals, Social Reformer, Emphasis on Friendship & Community.

Symbolism & Archetype: Aquarius is the "visionary" and "reformer," embodying the energy of innovation, idealism, and the collective consciousness. As a Fixed Air sign, Aquarius is associated with the pursuit of knowledge, the importance of social connections, and the drive to create a better future for all. The water bearer symbolizes the pouring forth of knowledge and wisdom to humanity.

Esoteric Perspective: The phrase "Water of Life am I, poured forth for thirsty men" reflects Aquarius' journey of serving humanity through the dissemination of spiritual knowledge and the promotion of unity. Aquarius' energy is about the realization of the oneness of all life and the importance of the collective good. The sign is associated with the awakening of spiritual consciousness and the unfolding of the plan for humanity.

Pisces:

Key Themes: Mutable Water Sign, Ruled by Neptune, Compassion & Empathy, Connection to the Subconscious & Dreams, Intuition, Spiritual Awareness, Sacrifice & Service, Boundlessness & Unity.

Symbolism & Archetype: Pisces is the "mystic" and "dreamer," embodying the energy of compassion, empathy, and spiritual transcendence. As a Mutable Water sign, Pisces is associated with the dissolution of boundaries, the exploration of the subconscious, and the connection to the divine. The fish symbolizes fluidity, the connection to the ocean of consciousness, and the ability to navigate the depths of the soul.

Esoteric Perspective: The phrase "I leave the Father’s Home and turning back, I save" reflects Pisces' journey of self-sacrifice and spiritual service. Pisces' energy is about the realization of unity with all life and the willingness to serve the collective through selflessness and compassion. The sign is associated with the completion of the soul's journey, leading to spiritual liberation and the merging with the divine.

follow for more astro insights like this and head on over to @quenysefields or my etsy --> sensualnoiree to grab my new astrology guidebook on reading your own natal chart :)

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fcalty · 28 days ago

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i never stop thinking about this brotherly rivalry manufactured by brendol hux ( the worst man in the first order and maybe star wars. idk ) he took a jakku orphan and try to forge him into a weapon to lead his new army of stormtroopers. but archex was too soft and brendol could not totally manipulate that out of him. he became captain cardinal, trainer and father figure of the child troopers. but he was too soft and gullible to see that his new father figure ( brendol ) was a horrible man who was using him for his own means.

and then there is that frightened five year old boy. brendol hux's bastard son that he kidnapped from the child's mother and brought to jakku at the empire's command. armitage was small and soft, not the strong, brute soldier brendol wanted him to be. brendol tried to beat the boy into a fierce commander-type. but brendol made him sly and vicious. and armitage was always brilliant. smarter than brendol could ever be. so he spread rumors about his own child to stop him from ever surpassing the father. he spread rumors to cardinal to keep the two apart and make them suspicious of each other.

two brothers. not by birth but fate. stolen from their homes to serve the greater evil. forced against each other inside the belly of the beast. until one turns and joins the resistance and learns the truth. then he faces his younger brother on the battlefield with a heavy heart.

#tw: child abuse #ch: cardinal #all my homies hate brendol hux

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neverniko101 · 1 year ago

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Make sure you edit the endings prompt thingy!!!!

STP X UTMV

Routes Chart

Playthroughs: 5/15 (Current)

Chapters Encountered: 7/28

Voices Met: 6/11

Endings Chart: 1/3

(We can do more endings if y’all want^^)

ENDING 1- Drowning in Sorrow

Attempt to take Cantal’s soul peacefully

Voice: Voice of the Sorrowful

X/X - XXX

Timeline:

Began Comic (Pl 1)

Prince (Armed) - Hero

Prisoner - Hero, Cheated

Siren (Together Forever) - Hero, Cheated, Smitten

Pl 2

Prince (Unarmed) - Hero

Angel (Whoopsies) - Hero, Contrarian

Pl 3

Prince (Armed) - Hero

Prisoner (Escape) - Hero, Cheated (Injured)

Pl 4

Prince (X) - Hero

Stranger (Hello) - Hero, Contrarian

Pl 5

Prince (Armed) - Hero

Razor - (Mirror, Mirror) - Hero, Skeptic, [etc], Cold

ENDING 1- Drowning in Sorrow

[etc] - Some routes have sections where all voices are present at once. This does not count as encountering the voice.

Main Voices

The Cardinal - Voice of the Hero - X!Chara

First Encounter: Beginning

Encountered: 5

The Raven - Voice of the Cheated - Reaper

First Encounter: Pl 1, Ch 2 - Prisoner

Encountered: 2

Variation: Injured (Pl3, Prisoner- Escape)

The Peacock - Voice of the Smitten - Swap

First Encounter: Pl 1, Ch 3 - Siren

Encountered: 1

Variation: Voice of the Sorrowful (Ending 1- Drowning in Sorrow)

The Parrot - Voice of the Contrarian - Error

First Encounter: Pl 2, Ch 2 - Angel

Encountered: 2

The Hummingbird - Voice of the Skeptic - Wanderlust

First Encounter: Pl 5, Ch 2 - Razor

Encountered: 1

The Voice in the Mirror - Voice of the Cold - Dust

First Encounter: Pl 5, Ch 2 - Razor

Encountered: 1

Possession: 1

Scorn: 1

Other Voices

(Voices gained from endings)

Voice of the Sorrowful- The Peacock variation

Ending 1- Drowning in Sorrow

Encountered: 1

Other:

Glow Squid Siren ref

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nyctoaerah · 1 year ago

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⋆♱⋆RETRIBUTION CH: 5

⋆♱⋆SYPNOSIS You found yourself stripped of your immortality, a punishment for daring to flout the edicts laid down by your father. Your transgressions? Two-fold. First, the grave sin of disobedience, and Secondly, the cardinal offense of falling irrevocably in love with your Lady in waiting. In your father’s eyes, the sanctity of your divinity was tarnished by a same-gender relationship, a concept that he vehemently repudiated as aberrant and abhorrent. Such unforgivable love, he pontificated, dulled your goddess-like essence. Thus he used his powers and casted you adrift into a parallel universe suffused with curses and sorcerers whose love aren't really the healthy type of love, a punishment to show you that ‘Love’ isn’t all about sunshine and rainbows

⋆♱⋆WARNINGS Gore, Slow Burn Yandere, Love Percentage Au. Pseudo Incest on Choso’s Case. Confusing Bullshit. Sexual themes, Biological Incest. Unedited.

⋆♱⋆PAIRINGS Yandere! Jjk x Isekai’d! Goddess! Reader

⋆♱⋆LOVE INTERESTS Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieri, Yuki Tsukumo, Kento Nanami, Utahime Iori, Choso, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen

⋆♱⋆NOTE Also posted in wattpad & quotev. Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3.

⋆♱⋆PREVIOUS CHAPTER

⋆♱⋆MASTERLIST

A GUST OF WIND whispered past you, its delicate fingers tracing a chill across your [S/c] skin, and a sigh escapes your lips, dark lashes fluttering shut.

You clutched at the shredded fabric of your gown, the pads of your fingers tracing the crushed remnants of the necklace nestled in your décolletage.

Though the chains had withstood the violence that had befallen on you, the jewel at its center now lay in glittering shards pressed against your heaving bosom.

How it was still intact after you almost drowned remained a mystery, however.

The shrill serenade of crickets hidden amongst the swaying grass reverberated on your ears, along with the soft yet loud pulsing within your chest and your ragged breaths clawing their way past your lips.

You opened your eyes and you peered into the inky shadows cloaking the forest, watching as the undulating branches danced and writhed in the pale moonlight.

The moon shone like polished pewter hanging heavy in the night sky, its pale glow casting the place in shades of silver. You sat on top of a rock with your elbows placed on your bent thighs, cupping your chin in weary palms as you gazed upward, drinking in the silvery glow of the moon that spilled across the darkened earth.

Moments like this brought bittersweet memories flooding back.

You recalled stolen nights with Ataraxia—Sneaking away from the empire and going down to Shaxilu to stargaze.

You missed how her silken hair would flow over your skin as you cradled each other, chatting and chuckling while naming constellations with breathy whispers

In those past evenings, Ataraxia would lay her head in your lap, finger-painting stories in the glittering sky as you watched, transfixed not by the heavenly wonders but the terrestrial beauty that you would always see in her eyes.

She was lost staring at the stars above...while You’re lost staring at the stars that you would see in her eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you dragged your fingers through your hair, just wanting to go back to her, just wanting to feel her lips on yours, feel her touch.

But then, how could you return there, when you’re stuck here on earth?

You find yourself trapped in a realm of ambiguity.

How are you supposed to go back to nebula?

It dawns on you that you are forbidden from returning to the celestial sanctuary of the nebula, after all.

You were Exiled.

A surge of frustration erupts within you, and a groan bubbles up your throat.

Why the fuck did you have to get such a cruel father? It was so unfair, so, so, so unfair.

While others may envy your lineage—for having the creator of the universe as your father, for you, it is a harrowing nightmare from which you cannot awaken.

To them, aionarch may be a deity to worship, a deity to fear and respect, but to you, he is a tyrant to despise.

The loathing you nurture towards aionarch simmers within you.

The bitterness rages within you as you recall the pain he inflicted upon not only you but also your mother—the way he hurts her, the way he hurts you , as if you weren’t his child, as if xeranthi wasn’t his wife.

A of hatred burns hot within your chest.

Why must your paternal lineage be marred by such malevolence? Why must your father be so callous, so devoid of compassion?

Surely, a father’s love should be a beacon of compassion and guidance, not a shroud of cruelty and desolation, right?

The notion that paternal love should be unconditional feels like a distant myth, a fantasy beyond your grasp.

These thoughts churn within you, and you felt getting more, and more agitated as time passes by.

You rubbed your throbbing temples, just wanting the incessant ache to subside as you forced your mind to go back to the present dilemma—and not focus on aionarch’s bullshit.

Loathing aionarch would avail you nothing after all, and focus was imperative—as you needed to make a plan, a plan to go back to nebula and find ataraxia.

You were sure that if you even managed to go back to Nebula, Aionarch would kill you, yet, you didn’t care. Ataraxia was more important.

Focus was key—you needed to devise a plan to return to nebula, to find your beloved Ataraxia.

Ataraxia is in danger, or maybe even dead...

The thought sent a twisting ache through your guts, knotting your insides as your throat constricted painfully. Images of her harmed or worse flooded your mind unbidden, each more gruesome than the last. You cursed your own vulnerability, your lack of power in this scenario. All you could do was hope, hope with every fiber of your being, that Fate had seen fit to spare her.

Have trust in her, she’s strong and intelligent. you told yourself again.

You raked your trembling fingers through your hair as you sighed deeply, mouth twitching down into a frown as your fingers curled slightly as you suddenly remembered another obligation that was suddenly smashed down on you.

You’re a single mother now.

How the hell could you face Ataraxia? How are you supposed to tell her that you’re now a single mother and you have no explanation to offer? Doubtless, ataraxia would assume the worst—that in a moment of weakness or worse yet deceit, you had laid with another.

You didn’t want that, because infidelity isn’t your forte.

It sucks, really, because you don’t even know the father of your self proclaimed son.

A shaking hand rose unsteadily to the nape of your neck, kneading the taut muscles that was locked, yet it provided no respite from the conflicted feelings that was raging within you.

You were so lost in your thoughts, and time itself ceased to have meaning. How long you’d lingered on the frigid ground again?

You just sat there, staring at the moon.

How had it come to this, you wondered. Why were you suddenly tasked with motherhood against your consent? Choso seemed resolute in claiming your connection, in claiming that he was your son.

And somehow, you believed it. Because his nature remained unclear, he wasn’t a human, and neither were you—so there’s a possibility that he was indeed your son.

Meanwhile, Your self-proclaimed son—Choso was beside you as you contemplated on your life choices.

Choso sat silently, idly dragging a stray twig through the sandy earth. His boredom was palpable, though his gaze occasionally flickered in your direction, scrutinizing for any sign of you retaliating or running away—After all, he can’t have you running from your obligation as his mother now, can you?

There was a palpable tension in the air as the two of you perched upon the rugged rock.

The silence was suffocatingly deafening—for it wasn’t the serene quietude, but rather an uneasy stillness that seemed to seep into the very crevices of the place.

Choso’s gaze was fixed on the earth beneath him, the tip of a stick tracing aimless patterns in the dirt, etching out random letters that held no meaning.

Choso couldn’t fathom why you appeared so distraught—Why you looked so upset and agitated and a pang of guilt tugged at his heartstrings. Was it his presence that caused your distraught, leading you to sulk?

A fleeting frown crossed Choso’s lips. Is it because of him that you’re upset or something? He just wants you to let you know that you have a son, and not have you getting all depressed right here and then.

What had transpired to render you so distant, as though he were a stranger? Why do you gaze at him with a disorientated gaze—as though you don’t know him?

“Hey...” Your muted voice floated on the breeze, taking Choso’s attention as his ebony tresses swayed in the wind. Turning his head in uour direction, his gaze fell upon your crestfallen mien—your eyes downcast and avoiding his probing stare

“Yes?” he asked, watching as you finally looked at him, noting the pensive furrow of your brow and the piercing gaze that you were giving him.

“...you said that you’re my child, right?” Doubt laced your query as a thought took root—if it was true—that he was your son, then why did he stand before you fully grown? You were untouched, a maiden still, and your reason rebelled against what your eyes insisted was fact.

Maybe ataraxia got you pregnant unintentionally? No, no, that’s not possible, two women could not create new life no matter how fervent the affection is, and you haven’t done the deed yet.

Such things were fanciful impossibilities.

“Yes,” Choso said simply, though his reply did little to allay your turmoil—It was vague after all.

You frowned pensively as you took in Choso’s visage. Lines of strain etched themselves across his brow; a tightness pulled at the corners of his mouth. Shadows dusked beneath his downcast eyes. Had your words carried too much censure?

Is it your fault? Were you so harsh? Is it because that you didn’t accept him as your son? Is it because you just won’t drop the subject?

Did he felt neglected by his mother or something?

You knew not how to be a mother, so how are you supposed to fulfill that role and not make him feel neglected? You were stressed too... Because if he really is your son, then why wasn’t he a baby at all, why is he a grown ass man?

The position strained you both, truly. Your chest constricted at the sight of choso’s solemn expression. Softly, you massaged your aching temples. Through dark lashes, you peered at Choso, taking in the stiff set of broad shoulders, fingers clenched white-knuckled in his lap.

While you watched him with a pitiful gaze, Choso’s gaze remained downcast, tracing the purposeful march of dark ants amidst the dirt.

Choso was just wondering what would happen if he was born as an ant while you were busy there in your internal turmoil.

“Hey...”

A tentative breath escaped your lips as you mustered the courage to speak once more, the words delicately balanced on the tip of your tongue. “I’m sorry,”

you uttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you averted your gaze, your hand trembling slightly as it came to rest upon your lap.

“I was just... overwhelmed by everything that’s happened,” you confessed, your fingers twisting anxiously in your lap.

“That’s why I’ve been so... agitated.. there’s just so many things that happened to me.. and I guess.. i kinda let my anger out on you...”

The memory of Toji’s pungent aroma suddenly assaulted your senses, causing your nose to scrunch in a grimace as you fought to push the unpleasant recollection aside.

Out of anything, why did you have to remember that little shit?

You sighed.

“I’m so sorry for being so harsh..”

You paused, your gaze searching his face, hoping to gauge his reaction, to discern whether your apology had been accepted or if the rift between your non-existent bond remained unhealed.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, the words laced with a heavy sigh as your fingers curled into your palms, the knuckles turning white with the tension. Choso arched a single, eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with puzzlement. Were you feeling remorseful for some reason he couldn’t discern?

You bit your lower lip, the soft flesh catching between your teeth as you contemplated your response.

“Because of my harshness,” you murmured, your gaze dropping to the floor.

“I may have... unintentionally, of course... offended you.”

The words felt thick and heavy on your tongue, as if your very breath struggled to form them. Choso hummed, a low, contemplative sound that reverberated in his chest.

He couldn’t help but note the shift in your demeanor, the way your once-brash and snappish attitude had given way to a more gentle, solemn air. Had you finally come to terms with the fact that he had bested you in your previous arguments? Even better, did you finally accepted that he was your son? Fantastic, indeed.

Scooting closer to you, Choso reached out, his long fingers gently brushing against the back of your hand.

“You didn’t offend me,” he assured, his voice soft and soothing.

“There’s no need to apologize.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting his.

“I... I suppose that it’s okay then... But still, i’m sorry...” you said, your words hesitant and uncertain.

But then, just as quickly as the moment of peace had come, it was gone, and you were back to your old self, your brow furrowing as you fixed Choso with a pointed stare.

“But you do realize that you can’t be my son, don't you?” you asked.

Choso’s eye twitched, and he resisted the urge to let out a frustrated sigh. There you go again, trying to stir up another argument. It seemed that this was a topic you two would never see eye to eye on.

Your fingers gently intertwined with his calloused hand, and you couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast in texture, not only that.. his hands seemed to have the same size of yours, yet it still fit snugly.

An involuntary frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you contemplated whether your stature had somehow diminished, for you were certain your palm would have dwarfed his own. After all, you were taller than him and his head were barely reaching your shoulder.

“I know I’ve already told you this countless times before, but...” You paused, your voice soft and measured as you prepared to broach the sensitive topic once more.

“My lover is a woman.” You paused, studying his features for any flicker of understanding

Pressing your lips into a tight, resolute line, you continued,

“And two women, as you’re aware, cannot conceive a child together.”Your gaze drifted downward, fingers tracing the weathered contours of his palm in a delicate, almost reverent caress.

“And... Ugh, how many times do i have to say this...? This is embarrassing...” you grumbled.

“I’m the embodiment of chastity.”

You mumbled, lifting your eyes to meet his, a silent plea resonated within your gaze.

“And besides, we should simply just drop this and accept the fact that you’re not my son. Ataraxia might grow upset and assume I’ve been unfaithful and that i’m cheating on her.” Your words were laced with a soft desperation.

“And i don’t want that...”

“Please?”

Choso scoffed, his brow furrowing as he pressed his palm against his temple, the other hand still enveloped in your grasp.

”Just... accept it,” he murmured, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“You still have my brother nestled within your womb.”

The very mention of that fact caused a knot of dread to coil in the pit of your stomach, His brother remained nestled safely within your womb. How could you forget the life growing within? How could you have forgotten, even for a moment, the life that now thrummed within you—the life that had been so unexpectedly, inexplicably conceived?

...

Now ataraxia had more reason to believe that you cheated because you were technically pregnant!

You released your hold on his hand, fingers trembling slightly as you raked them through your hair, the strands catching and snagging against your skin, and nails scraping across your scalp in agitation.

“How did this even happen?” you breathed, the words barely audible as you watched Choso press his palm reverently against your tummy, fingers splayed as if listening.

“Can you not hear it?” he murmured, his expression calm and collectedness.

“Hear what?”

“The heartbeat of Noranso.” You felt your eyes widen in shock, jaw dropping open as you stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Flummoxed, you gaped at him as you spoke.

“Tangina Choso... Don’t tell me that..” The words tumbled from your lips, colored with disbelief.

You felt a bubbling surge of annoyance boil within your core, because if you were to give birth to that random child that randomly popped in your tummy then you would’ve named it ‘destroyer of the land and mountains’

You grimaced, founding the name that choso had given his brother kinda weird, and you were acting as if the name that you would give it wasn’t any weirder.

But To be honest? if choso didn’t have a name, then you would’ve had named him “armpit munchies” or “squishy toe nails.”

“... you named it?”

Choso merely shrugged, stepping back from you with a nonchalant air.

“No, that’s his name,” he replied vaguely, leaving you to gape at his retreating form, a thousand questions swirling in your mind.

His explanation provided little clarity to your muddled psyche. Brow furrowed, glancing between him and your stomach curiously. Finally, words tumbled forth quietly

“It has a name.” You repeated, baffled.

“I.. i see..”

“Do you all have your names chosen even before the...” you paused, brow furrowing as you struggled to find the right words,

“the sperm race?”

Choso merely shook his head, seeming equally perplexed.

“I don’t recall joining a race.” choso murmured.

“What’s a sperm?”

Waves of discomfort washed over you as you stared at Choso with a perplexed gaze, your fingers instinctively massaging the tense muscles at the base of your neck. How could this man before you, with all the trappings of adulthood, be utterly ignorant of the most fundamental aspects of human biology? You found yourself bewildered, your brow furrowing as you struggled to comprehend the sheer depth of his naivety.

“You don’t know what a sperm is?” The words tumbled from your lips, laced with a mixture of incredulity and pity. Your eyes searched Choso's face, wondering if perhaps he was some sort of savant, what if he’s actually a baby trapped in a man’s body?

“Er, well... it’s a small creature,” you began, the words catching in your throat as you grappled with the awkwardness of the situation.

“And, you know, it’s what men... release... on the female. And then, it leads to a baby or something.” You trailed off.

“Like during reproduction,” You added.

“You have those too” The words tumbled forth, a futile attempt to bridge the chasm of understanding that separated you. Choso’s expression remained flat.

“What do you mean?” His voice, devoid of any hint of emotion, only served to heighten your sense of unease.

“You have those too. Sperm. You have those.” You shook your head, the words tinged with a resigned exasperation.

“I don’t.” Choso asserted, shaking his head in a way that made your eye twitch involuntarily.

“But you do,” you replied, unable to contain your exasperation as you facepalmed.

“Beneath those clothes, you have a dick. It’s the thing between your legs, the flesh thing. And then you have balls, they’re connected to the dick and your sperm is inside of your balls.”

Your brusque, vulgar manner of explaining the process confused choso, you cringed internally as you realized how embarrassing and blunt your words is. Leaning forward, you extended a lone digit, pressing the tip firmly against the juncture of his thighs.

“Here.” you said.

Choso’s brow arched in bewilderment, his calloused palm slowly trailing downward to tentatively graze the area you had indicated.

“Here?” he questioned, his tone laced with uncertainty.

You offered a curt nod of affirmation.

“Yes, precisely there.” A long-suffering sigh escaped your lips as you watched his exploration.

“There’s nothing here.”

“Punyeta, choso, Anong kabobohan to?”

you lamented, the palm of your hand connecting sharply with your forehead in a gesture of pure exasperation.

Did this mirror the frustration Aionarch experienced while explaining the details of reproduction and the importance of restraint to your dumb ass? Was this the same impatience he felt when you struggled to grasp basic concepts? Is this how he felt when he was teaching you what sex is and you can’t understand anything?

“I don’t know. But i don’t really know what you’re talking about.” Choso’s brow creased slightly as he tried to decipher your cryptic remarks.

“Are you truly aware that offspring gestate within the female womb, yet remain ignorant of the nature of the seed that initiates such creation?” you inquired with a hint of disbelief.

Choso emitted a dismissive snort. “Tsk.”

“Do i look like i care about that reproductive thing that you’re talking about?” Choso inquired, arching a sculpted brow with dubious sincerity.

“Your words are too flowery ma, i can’t understand it.”

Choso responded, the honorific “ma” slipping unbidden from his tongue unconsciously. In all honesty, he could not muster the slightest interest in your diatribe and the meanings therein—Your speech simply dwarfed his capacity for comprehension.

“M-ma?” You sputtered in disbelief, your viscera twisted within your torso’s confines. Why the hell does he keep perceiving you as the mother who birthed him? You had already told him so many times before, Had his cognizance reshaped itself to see you thus? Jaw clenched taut, gut wrenched with turmoil, you met his steady gaze.

“What?” he asked, purple eyes narrowed to slits as irritation claimed dominion of mien and manner.

“Are you still insisting that i have that “dick” you were talking of?”

“i don’t have those.” he reiterated adamantly.

You exhaled deeply, pressing your fingertips to your temples as sheer vexation overtook you. It seemed this Choso was intent on persisting in his fanciful notion of you as his mothe, huh?

Though you strove for patience, his constant invocations of that diminutive designation only served to stoke the flames of irritation within you.

You know that this might just fuel his delusion but you still spoke.

“If you’re really my son then you’ll have those.”

you remarked, exasperation sharpening your tongue as you pointed on his torso. Directing his gaze downwards, you noted the minute tensing of his brows as thoughtful consideration replaced that look of misguided familial bonding. Silently, he pondered your implication, tracing where your suggestive gesture indicated—his midsection bereft of the corporeal signs one might expect finding to see a true blood relation.

“Why do you keep pointing at my midriff?, there’s nothing here.”

“I know that i’m right. You should just look for yourself, see if you’re right.” he mumbled incomprehensibly.

“Okay.” You said flatly.

Your fingers grasped the fabric of his vest, the coarse material rough against your skin as you tugged him closer. With a sharp tug, you lifted the garment, revealing the taut, chiseled planes of his abdomen. His breath hitched suddenly, not expecting that.

“So?” He breathes out.

“It’s under here.” you murmured, your voice low and lilting as your hand drifted downward, tracing the line of the black, silk-like sash cinched around his hips. With deft movements, you began to untie the knot, your fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his trousers as you tugged it.

“Here?” He asked, and choso blinked as he suddenly felt blood rushing down there.

What the hell is happening? He could feel something stiffening, but he just couldn’t pinpoint what it is...

“You look like you’re living in an another person’s body, you know?” you murmured, your eyes gravitating upwards to meet his. Choso’s gaze wandered, his mind occupied with a myriad of thoughts, his body tensing uncomfortably in response. The alien sensation of his new body still lingered, a mere twenty days into this unfamiliar vessel. A body bestowed upon him by a mysterious stranger, a doppelganger of yourself in every aspect—from the matching lips to the identical eyes, skin tone, and hair.

The resemblance between you two was uncanny, eerie in its precision.

But the personalities and the voice is different though.

Unease shadowed his features, amethyst eyes brooding, thoughts no doubt wandering to that fateful encounter only days past when first he’d been gifted with animated flesh.

Your voice broke him out of his reverie.

“I am not well-versed in the anatomy of males, But i guess I’ll just indulge you in from what I've read in my books,” you stated with a trace of bitterness, recalling the arduous task of having to study that 50 books with long ass pages for no reason at all.

“Maybe we should start with your upper physique?” you suggested with innocent curiosity, your words laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Your delicate hands slowly roamed his firm physique, lingering in certain spots as if mapping every contour with her touch alone. A visible shiver coursed through his body at the first caress upon his bare chest. “So here,” You began, pressing your soft palms fully against his pecs,

“lies your thoracic cavity.”

He gazed down intently at your hands exploring his form, too confused to fully comprehend your anatomical lesson.

“What’s a thoracic cavity?” He questioned, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s your chest. It’s a complex chamber nestled within your chest, safeguarding the vital organs necessary for sustaining life,” you explained, noting how he tilted his head slightly as he delicately removed your fingers from his cloth. With a meticulous gesture, he adjusted the fabric and lifted it up higher granting you an enhanced view of his upper body.

“You mean, the things that are essential for living?” he murmured in wonderment.

“Yeah.” you affirmed with a nod.

“Hmm... Intriguing,” he mused, mentally marking the importance of this knowledge.

His gaze then wandered towards your own chest.

“Why does your chest look like that? It’s different from mine.” he inquired, leaving you momentarily speechless.

You gawked.

“Putanginang lalake to... Choso, don’t ask questions like that! It’s uncomfortable and weird.” You sighed.

“Look me in the eyes, not my chest,” you instructed, a hint of exasperation lacing your words as he acquiesced with a nod, seemingly unaware of his lapse in etiquette.

You cleared your throat, hoping to get rid of the awkward atmosphere.

“So... Back to what i was saying.”

“There’s organs in here and they’re essential for your living. It's divided into three main parts, right pleural cavity, left pleural cavity and mediastinum. And the five organs in your thoracic cavity are your heart, lungs, esophagus, trachea and thymus.”

“There’s bones in here too, like your ribs and the sternum.”

“This one’s your sternum,” You mumble, tracing the arch of his sternum before dipping lower

“And this one’s your ribcage.”

Your fingers delicately glided across the solid ridges of his rib cage.

Sliding lower still, the tips of your fingers grazed his taut stomach.

“The abdomen...” you comtinued,

“The abdomen contains many vital organs: the stomach, the small intestine, the large intestine, the liver, the spleen, the gallbladder, the pancreas, the bladder, and many blood vessels.”

“And here, your groin” Your fingers dipped under his waistband and you were about to take it off until a distorted sound reached your ears, a warped and twisted echo that set your nerves on edge.

“Mommyyy” it crooned, and you froze, choso stiffening beside you as you both snapped your gaze toward the source.

There, emerging from the shadows, a giant, fat, purple worm with an ugly and contorted face. The same creature you had once shapeshifted into.

“Mommy Hug me”

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𝐍𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐀

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The miasmic scent of blood flooded Xeranthi’s senses as she gingerly sat upon her husband’s lap. Aionarch’s hand massaged her lacerated flesh. Stiffening against the forthcoming anguish, she steeled herself to absorb his ministrations without compromise of façade.

The woman’s ravaged flesh contracted in pain as pale slender fingers traced over her fresh lashes, reopening the barely sealed wounds.

Xeranthi’s flesh constricts as his fingers delved deeply into the crimson gash, parting the freshly torn skin with delicate precision. Her muscles and sinews writhed beneath his probing touch, the contractile tissue recoiling from the painful intrusion. Ichor fluid welled and spilled anew with each probing motion, and it dripped down his fingers like midnight liquid, painting his fingers a grim ichor.

Each brush of contact sent tendrils of white-hot agony lancing through her battered form, her stomach roiling with a fresh wave of nauseating pain—and she wanted to vomit so bad.

Aionarch methodically traced the wound’s edge, his glowing touch bringing tentative relief—That xeranthi very much didn’t appreciated. Her taut fibers slowly drew closed once more beneath his healing caress, though, the residual soreness remained.

The whip that they used kn her was excruciatingly painful, a nefarious device of torture forged from a dragon's scaly tail. Each serrated barb along its rippling length was painful, and each sharp tooth that lined the whip’s gangrenous tongue was carved from the fossilized scales of some bygone beast, and Xeranthi could feel her senses reeling as she remembered the obsidian talons buried deep within her back, rending sinews and splitting her skin.

She hissed in irritation as his head nestled intimately at her nape. His fingers drifted now across her marred back, cataloging each cruel mark left by the kiss. Over raised welts and gouges his hands roamed, tracing the ribs laid bare through her broken flesh.

Her form shivered violently at the fresh stimulus to such tender wounds, irritation and anger writting clear upon her trembling limbs. Still he persisted, tending injuries both evident and deeper still, his moist exhalations but another torment upon her skin already flayed. Slowly, gradually, underneath his ministrations the ravages began to fade.

Even in supposed gentleness her sadistic lord inflicted new torments too. Though his touch now soothed rather than seared, memories of past cruelties clung to her like parasites, burrowing their tendrils deep into her psyche.

“you’ve been quiet for quite a while now,”

Aionarch said quietly, though a hint of irritation colored his tone. This wasn’t the reaction he envisioned from Xeranthi after taking her away from that dreadful place.

Despite his efforts to mend her wounds, an undercurrent of ingratitude lingered like a bitter aftertaste.

Such an ungrateful wife she is, no wonder that their daughter is ungrateful too.

“And what would you have me say?”

Xeranthi jaw sets like stone as she let out a derisive grunt.

“Want me to thank you for your oh so called graceful mercy? Want me to thank you and act like you’re my savior when you’re the reason why i’m there in the first place?”

Aionarch grasped her chin roughly, his nails digging crescents into her flesh as he forced her gaze to meet his own.

“Ah? It seems the apple falls not far from the tree,” he murmured. “I think I know from whence our daughter’s foolishness stems,”

He breathed, the scent of wine upon his breath.

“So you’ve finally recognized your own reflection?”

Xeranthi’s lips curled into a wry smile, though no mirth touched her eyes. “So you finally admit she inherits her dull wit from you?”

Pausing, Aionarch considered her retort before throwing back his head and laughing, though the sound held no joy.

“Nay, ‘Tis from you, wife.”

Aionarch hesitated, brow furrowing, then laughed sharply. “No, she gets her foolishness from you.”

“She has your features, your genes,” Xeranthi countered.

“And she has your intellect, or lack thereof.

Aionarch’s fingers clenched tighter, his nails breaking skin, still Xeranthi would not flinch or cry out, meeting his gaze with defiance.

“You are cute Weiveiun,” He says with a chuckle.

Xeranthi narrowed her eyes as his icy gaze bored into her, pale ichor dripping slowly from vicious half-moon gouges in her skin where his nails still dug. Though her flesh stung in pain, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

Dark lashes fluttered shut to block out his soulless stare, though it did nothing to halt the onslaught of memories assaulting her mind.

“What did you do to my soryuleitha?”

“I know that you wouldn’t bring her up unless you did something.”

Aionarch hums as he traced a thumb along her jaw, smearing the iridescent blood across her cheek in a gruesome caress.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“I discovered that our daughter has become enamored with a woman,” the deity sighed languidly, and Xeranthi remained stock-still as her eyes grew wide with horror and dismay. No... surely Aionarch has not uncovered your secret attraction to the fairer sex? Xeranthi swallowed painfully, hoping beyond hope that you remains unscathed, for she knows all too well how cruel Aionarch can be, and how fiercely he despises any bond of intimacy that deviates from his narrow conception of propriety. And it was especially grievous, for it concerned you.

“You’ve hurt her...” Xeranthi said in icy tones and Aionarch hummed dismissively, feeling some subterranean forces suddenly surging forth from nowhere to pierce through him, but they dissipated impotently as he dispersed them with a negligent flick of his hand.

“Indeed, I did,” Aionarch replied coldly, without an ounce of remorse, not even caring about xeranthi’s pathetic attempt to hurt him.

Drawing a shuttered breath, Xeranthi stated grimly, “You should’ve just killed her.” She said coldly.

“And not hurt her.”

“You hurt her so grievously because you are consumed by envy of her lover, isn’t it?” Xeranthi murmured pensively, and for a split-second, Aionarch’s eyes widened in surprise at her perceptiveness before he threw his head back and laughed hollowly.

“Clever girl,” he purred, pressing his lips to Xeranthi’s cheek in a mockery of affection, which caused the goddess to recoil inwardly from his defiling touch.

“Since when did you know, hm?” Aionarch asks, and Xeranthi’s gaze slowly drifted downwards, her eyes avoiding his penetrating stare. How did she know? Through her stealthy observations over many years. Ever since you were a mere babe, it had seemed to Xeranthi that Aionarch was utterly obsessed with you, obsessed with sculpting you into some ideal of perfection, obsessed with isolating you from all others until you belonged only to him. None dare speak to him in such a casual, informal way without meeting a ghastly end, and yet with you he was strangely tender, affectionate even.

And that was not all—Aionarch kept a close, watchful guard over your purity as well, as if you were his private treasure. These things had whispered to Xeranthi’s intuition for longer than she could recall, leaving an uneasy sense of foreboding within her.

“Ever since she was a child,”

“I see the way you look at her.” Xeranthi murmured through clenched teeth, each word sharp enough to draw blood. Her fingernails dug half-moons into her palms as barely contained rage coursed through her veins.

“The way you so readily forgive her transgressions, as if she hung the very stars in the sky.”

Aionarch merely hummed in noncommittal acknowledgement, yet the icy disdain miring his eyes belied the uncaring facade he attempted to project.

“True, I harbor no love for you,” he conceded with a frigid smile that raised hackles along Xeranthi's neck.

“But i do care for you. Do I not provide for your needs? Have I not elevated your status above all others?”

She sneered mirthlessly.

“Spare me your falsehoods and justifications. I am no fool, no matter how you may seek to paint me as such. I know well that you used me—my body, my name—for no other purpose than so you could have a child because apparently, i’m the prettiest goddess blah blah blah, bullshit like that. Like i give a damn if you elevated my status”

“Watch your insolent tongue, woman, lest you regret the consequences.”

Xeranthi barked a harsh, derisive laugh.

“The truth wounds, does it? That I see clearly what lies beneath your genteel ravings? She looks like you,” she spat venomously,

“and so you mistake your narcissism for love. You like her because she looks like you, she spits your image.”

“Your feelings for [Name] has never been platonic in the first place.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𑁍ࠬܓ━━𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏. [Name]’s stomach is starting to digest Choso’s Brother.

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Xeranthi knows about [Name] and Ataraxia.

𝟎𝟎𝟑. [Name] is the goddess of chastity, cause she was forced to live in Chastity by her father.

𝟎𝟎𝟒. Ataraxia heard the conversation between Aionarch and Xeranthi.

𝟎𝟎𝟓. The worm thinks that [Name] is its mommy too because yk? She once transformed into the worm and the worm scent is clinging onto her—so the worm assumed that she was its mommy.

𝟎𝟎𝟔. Choso wanted to ask about Ataraxia but refrained himself from doing so.

𝟎𝟎𝟕. Xeranthi wasn’t bothered by aionarch’s incestuous love cause it’s normal for them—since they’re deities and incest is normal in deities and they see nothing wrong with it.

𝟎𝟎𝟖. The person that gave choso his body was said that they looked like Kamiseijin but it’s not really kamiseijin, neither was it aionarch.

𝟎𝟎𝟗. Aionarch didn’t killed ataraxia for a reason;)

𝟎𝟏𝟎. Aionarch only took Xeranthi away to share some information with Xeranthi cause he kinda expected that Xeranthi would recoil at the thought of [Name] liking a woman but got the opposite reaction instead cause Xeranthi supports her daughter no matter what.

𝟎𝟏𝟏. Choso once considered bashing your head.

━━━━━

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏. “Punyeta, anong kabobohan to choso” means “What the fuck kind of stupidity is this, Choso?”

Weiveiun means

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Soryuleitha means “My sole happiness”

𝟎𝟎𝟑.Weiveiun means “My darling”

𝟎𝟎𝟒. “Putang inang lalake to” means this fucking man...

━━━━━

🔪 || 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐒atoru has been thinking about you or whatever, and honestly? He’s getting a bit jealous of you because suguru has been focusing on tryna figure out what the actual fuck you are.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟏𝟎%

—𝐒uguru saw ataraxia’s name on the necklace and now he’s assuming that your name is ataraxia<3.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟎%

—𝐓oji misses his worm already, please come back. He needs money.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟒% (𝐔𝐩 𝟐%)

—𝐒hoko, just like suguru, assumed that your name is ataraxia and now she’s doing loads of research in tryna find you.

━━━━━

╰┈➤ 𝟐𝟒% (𝐔𝐩 𝟒%)

—𝐂hoso is getting irritated by you. BUT, he’s jealous because a fucking worm just called you mommy! Like why is the worm stealing his mother? Choso was annoyed at that + he’s also annoyed at the fact that you kept on telling him about human reproduction or something like that, he’s getting uncomfortable with the topic + what are you even saying about his body or something? Choso has never really looked at his body or something like that, nor did he paid any mind in the details.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

okokok, so i’m not writing choso as an “innocent uwu” bullshit like that. Choso is not innocent in here and he’s just really curious about how the human body works, but that doesn’t mean that he’s innocent or something. He just trusts Kamiseijin and is quite comfortable with her, that’s why. + He’s literally thinking of killing [Name].

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Shit’s bouta go down at chapter six:) just don’t mind my obsession with anatomy lmfao. This chapter is cringe af (everything is in my pov) dawg, i sprained my ankle and now i’m itching to hurt my mc again... But i just decided to give her this moment of peace because i’m gonna take it all away soon💓.... Mwhehe i was supposed to make her meet Toru and Sugu in her human form but i decided to just make them meet her at chap 7 cause (spoilers: there’s gonna be a fight in chapter 6)

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LOL THIS BULLSHIT BECAME A SCIENCE LESSON INSTEAD OF A JJK FUCKIN' FANFIC LMAOOO SJHSHZJAJAK... And yeah... When i said that there’s gonna be incest in here... I meant that. BUT DON’T THINK THAT I CONDONE/NORMALIZE THAT BEHAVIOR IRL OKAY? incest isn’t okay and it’s illegal<3

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baronessvonglitter · 1 month ago

Text

if love be rough with you, be rough with love | chapter 17 | "a fine spray of scarlet"

Dave York x f!Reader

Word count: 4,988

Summary: You and Dave seem to have earned your Happily Ever After.. but ghosts from the past linger and threaten that dream.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. CNC relationship. Somnophilia. Unprotected piv. Anal. Domestic fluff. Reader is a bitch to Carol and Carol is a bitch right back. Angst. Relationship woes. TW for violence, home invasion, and murder. Stupor due to shock. Chekhov’s head shot from ch. 13

Author's note: I know, I KNOW! I haven't updated in forever.. I honestly just wanted to let Dave and Sweetpea keep their happiness a little longer before the drama started again. But I'm up to the task and I'm ready to bring these two crazies back in action! Also, yes @yorksgirl at one point Dave will shown to be a GNR fan, but Bon Jovi has been a constant on my Spotify lately 🩷 I've added the inspired songs at the end.

I went back and read this series to try to get back into the feel of it, and I started seeing Sweetpea as a final girl from a horror film. She starts off friendly and willing, despite the trauma in her own past, and grows from heartbreak into a savvy, street smart woman who no longer dismisses any eventuality of danger. Super prepared is what I'd call her.

Also.. 🎵Caroline... she's the reason for the word bitch🎶

dividers by @saradika-graphics & @thecutestgrotto 👑

Series Masterlist

The best thing about finally working on your Happily Ever After with Dave is that he comes home to you every night. You're no longer a secret, a toy to stash away so he won't get caught. He fucks you anywhere and everywhere in the home you now share, the one you thought you'd grow old and alone in, preferring it that way.

You know the commute isn't easy on him, mostly spending time with you on weekends and working from your home as often as he can. It may be why he takes fewer jobs - albeit, the ones that pay the most. You continue managing Pour Decisions, the most popular place in St. Louis for pub crawls and post-Cardinals games get-togethers. It doesn't allow for a lot of time together, especially in the midst of planning a wedding. It's not an ideal situation, but you make do with what you're given and you do it out of love.

Your favorite nights are when he comes home from some underhanded, off-the-books job. He doesn't ever tell you what it is, or where he's going, or how long he'll be gone, and while this is born of a need to keep you safe from the facts, you know better than to ask. You're not implicating yourself.

He's a little less ephemeral than before, less of a ghost appearing only when he's ready, like the days when you were his kids' live-in nanny. But even when he's not there in the dead of night your senses are filled with him.. because when he comes back you know what kind of mood he'll be in..

You're fast asleep, curled up on your side with his pillow under your arm, inhaling his scent until he can be there for real. And Dave is so quiet you don't even hear him until you feel the bed dip beneath you and his fingers curl into the waistband of your sleep shorts.

"Wha-" you're barely able to eke out before Dave roughly pulls them down, pressing you onto your stomach on the bed. He takes the pillow you're holding and places it under your belly, lifting your hips and ass towards him. You barely have time to react before you feel the substantial glide of his hard cock into your willing, waiting warmth.

He waits only a heartbeat before he starts slamming into you, his grip on your hips merciless as he uses you to vent his frustrations.

Job gone right, job gone wrong, doesn't matter. You're the prize he gets to claim when he comes home at night.

His chest against your back, his arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you prone as he thrusts madly inside you, fucking away any worries or thoughts that are plaguing him. His teeth nip at your earlobe, his growls of pleasure clear as day. You can only take what he has to give, your hands bunching up the bedsheets.

"Take it, take it," he murmurs, the slap of his hips against your ass prevalent in the room. "My good girl, my perfect angel, making me all clean again.."

He's perfectly angled to hit your sweet spot, not being gentle about it, needing to get rid of the leftover adrenaline still pumping through his system. Your cries are muffled by your pillow. Use me, use me, use me you're mumbling, panting as he brings you to the brink and crashes into you, staying still as your warm wet channel traps him and pulsates, your walls tightening around him. Not yet satisfied, Dave gathers saliva and spits onto your asshole, spreading it open with his fingers before plunging in deep, only giving you a moment's respite to catch your breath before he starts fucking your ass, eliciting strangled moans from your sweet mouth. You know the safe word, the only thing that can stop this, but it never enters your mind to speak it. You need this as much as Dave does. Moments later you both come, your tight hole coaxing him to spurt his white-hot jets of his thick, sticky spend deep inside you.

Your alarm doesn't wake you the next day. What does wake you is the sound of the shower on and, quietly, almost as if he doesn't want you to hear him, Dave is singing.

Squinting as you get up you listen intently, trying to clear away the cobwebs of your interrupted sleep. Sure enough, you catch snippets of Dave's singing. Bon Jovi's "You Give Love a Bad Name", and it brings a smile to your face. When he emerges, his song better heard as he comes back into the bedroom, towel slung around his hips. His eyes go a little wide when he sees you're awake and you swear it's the first time you've ever seen the man blush.

"What, no encore?" you tease, laying on the bed propped up on one elbow. "I was hoping you'd do 'Wanted Dead or Alive', or maybe 'Livin' on a Prayer.'"

"I didn't take you for an eighties music fan."

"It's considered oldies now."

He scoffs, dark eyes watching you with an appreciation for your barb. "Do you even know the name of the album those songs are from?" he challenges.

"Hmm.. I think it was.. Slippery When Wet." With that you pull she sheets away so he can get the entire view of you.

Dave smirks, pouncing on you and wasting no time in getting rid of the towel around his waist.

You get ready for the day, flannel shorts pajamas and a long-sleeve henley on under your comfy robe. The mornings are still chilly here, even in the springtime. You start a pot of coffee, all smiles as the day begins.

Dave comes out of the room, dressed casually in gray sweatpants and a navy blue tee. He sees you eyeing his crotch and he sneaks up behind you, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. "Can I have some?"

"I hope you're talking about the coffee, because I'm still pretty sore from earlier."

"I've got to remind you who you belong to now." He lightly spanks your butt.

"You can have some coffee if you give me a kiss."

"Where I want to kiss you isn't appropriate for the kitchen."

"You weren't saying that Tuesday night."

He chuckles at that and turns you around, tracing your jawline with his fingertip before cupping your face and going in for his kiss. His lips are soft, all form of facial hair shaved off just moments before, and his aftershave is subtle, something that reminds you of the ocean. There's a hint of toothpaste in his kiss. "Good enough," you say as you break apart, teasing even as your knees almost go weak from his touch.

You pour him a pot, fixing it just the way he likes, and it transports you back to those days, half a decade earlier, when you and Dave were the only ones in the household awake, sharing small talk over morning coffee, in the days before you found each other on a deeper level.

So much has changed. So much bad could have tainted what you have, but now you're on the verge of having everything you want.

When Ben is hungry Dave jumps into action, insisting on making lunch himself.

That catches your attention. "Oh? What do you plan to make?"

He blushes a little, a rare sight. "I may not be the greatest cook in the kitchen, but I do make a mean grilled cheese."

"Grilled cheese sounds perfect. Can I do anything to help?"

Dave shakes his head. "You can help by just sitting there and looking beautiful. It's the easiest job in the world for you," he says with a smirk, kissing her temple before starting on lunch.

You watch him as he moves around the kitchen, slight pauses here and there while he goes over a mental checklist of what he needs to do. "I don't think I've ever seen you cook before. It's kind of sexy." It's fascinating to watch him, seeing the concentration on his face as he gathers the ingredients, a pale blue kitchen towel over one shoulder.

"Are you trying to seduce me while I'm cooking?" His smirk makes her melt just like the butter in the pan he's heating up.

"Oh, if I remember correctly, you seduced me during various chores back in the day."

He laughs, remembering. "How could I be held accountable when you looked so god damn hot folding my clothes?"

"We did a lot of things we weren't supposed to," you reply. The past is still rife with unanswered questions and pieces of frozen time you wish you could change.. it's best not to dwell on it too much, and just face forward to the future. Nothing stops you from going up and kissing his cheek as he's at the stove. "Don't let the sandwiches burn," you whisper playfully.

The three of you sit down to eat in the breakfast nook. It's a quiet day before the hustle and bustle of play dates and office meetings. You wish you could bottle up this moment for all time.

"My favorite guys in the whole world.." You give Dave and Ben a warm smile. They smile back and Dave reaches out to give your hand a little squeeze. "I don't think I've ever been as happy as I am right now."

"Me neither," you tell him. "And we deserve it after all this time."

It's going to be a wonderful life.

"Thank you so much for waiting, Carol!"

A false smile is plastered on your face as you approach the table at the newest French restaurant in town. Wearing a crisp new white sheath dress, your neck adorned with the Anne Boleyn "B" necklace Dave gave you years ago, you give Carol a hug even though she hasn't risen from her seat to greet you, and she looks like she'd rather stab you with the butter knife than to show you any type of affection. But the fact that she even deigned to come all this way and see you is something of a relief.

You've spritzed on too much Marc Jacobs Daisy and you know it as she starts to sniffle. Sitting down across from her you study the woman you've now replaced.

She's older now, a few strands of gray in her dark hair, but it suits her. You know what Dave saw in her when they met, how he could have fallen in love with her, but times change. Both of you have changed too.

Carol says your name with an icy chill in her voice. "You asked me here. What do you want?"

The waiter comes by and you order an Aperol Spritz, and Carol orders a stronger vodka martini.

"It's a little early in the day, isn't it?" You smile at her, baring your teeth to show you can't be messed with. "Sorry to arrive so late. Dave and I just got back from the cabin- you remember the cabin, right? We spent a weekend there with our son just to get away, and it was so peaceful. I really love that little place."

Carol looks like she'll throw up if you don't stop talking, and part of you is keen on actually going that far.

"I'll dipense with the small talk," you say, thanking the waiter as he arrives with your drinks. Grabbing your sunset-colored drink with your left hand, you silently show off the engagement diamond Dave bought for you, sparkling in the afternoon light.

"Dave tells me you're seeing someone. I think that's so great," you emphasize the last two words. "Tom.. from Scranton?"

"Ted. From Philadelphia," Carol coldly corrects. "He's an investment banker."

"Ooh. A real wolf of Wall Street."

"You said you'd stop the small talk."

"I did," you smile somewhat apologetically after a sip of the drink. "I think it's a shame you're not letting the girls come to the wedding. Dave wants them there. I know it would make him happy for them to share in his joy of marrying someone he really loves."

"Is that the story they told you? That I'm the one not permitting them to go?"

You shrug good-naturedly. "It seems like you're a little jealous.. maybe you haven't yet accepted that Dave and I are together. And it's such a shame, really," you quickly add, seeing Carol start to turn red by your not-so-subtle jab. "Molly has her learner's permit and Dave's already looking at cars for her. Alice is interested in STEM summer camp, and who did she ask for the money for the registration fee?" You smile sweetly, pointing to yourself. "I happily gave it to her. She was pleased as punch, Carol. Dave and I don't know why you deny the girls anything when we can give them everything."

The ex-Mrs York has heard enough, and it shows in the way she slams her empty rocks glass down none too gently.

"You think your life with him is going to be perfect? Some kind of fairy tale born of the transgression you both took part in? You think you know David York?" Carol's smile is evil. "He cheated on me with you for months. I admit to having my suspicions, and he confessed everything to me after I showed him that disgusting video you sent me. You should have seen the tears in his eyes. He looked like a man repentant and lost.. he begged for me to stay with him. I almost did," she says, her eyes taking on a faraway look as if to imagine where that road would have led her.

"He admitted to everything. He sang like a canary. I know about the women before you, and believe me, they were younger and prettier and bouncier than you. But do you want to know what the best part is?" she whispers conspiratorily.

You're frowning, your drink practically untouched, gathering condensation. Your entire body is tense and you're gritting your teeth. You want to get up and leave but you're rooted to the spot. Some dark part of you wants to hear what happened after you destroyed the York family.

"After he begged me to stay and I refused, he begged for something else instead." A slow smile curls her lips upward. "He begged to make love to me. I shouldn't have, considering all he'd put me through, but it ended up being the best fuck either of us have ever had in our lives."

"You're a bitch," you whisper, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. You quickly rub them away, not wanting to give Carol the satisfaction of watching you cry.

"And you're just a kid trying to play with the grownups," she replies, her voice like ice. "I don't think you're anywhere near ready to fuck with me."

She gathers her purse, taking her time and enjoying the way you're lips are trembling with unshed tears. "Have you ever heard the term, 'how you get him is how you lose him'? Woman to woman, honey, I'm being candid with you. What he did to me he'll do to you. Men his age don't change. You just have to decide how much pain you want to live with."

She rises from her seat, a sweet smile on her face like her words hadn't just been spoken and eyes the necklace you wear. "You're a history buff, right? Then you should know that historically, second wives don't fare very well." She then snaps the string of pearls against your skin before leaving.

You hate it. You hate everything about today. The defeated feeling sits in your stomach like a large stone, replacing all the good and bubbly feelings you'd left the house with today, all your hope squashed and misshapen in the face of new information and intrusive thoughts.

There's a chill in the air as you leave the restaurant, the sky grey overhead. Moisture is in the air, impending rainstorms, quite the opposite of what the weather app predicted today. You walk to your car, having foregone using the valet service. Every available penny is going towards your dream wedding, despite Dave wanting to pay for it all himself. He's paying child support and alimony. You can't let him put himself in debt, no matter how many extra "jobs" he can get in the meantime.

It hurts to think about Dave in any context other than your fiancé. There's a desperate hope in your lungs that everything she said about him was a lie, a ruse to slap those rose-colored glasses right off your face. You can't let that bitch have the satisfaction of knowing it's working.

"Hey, miss! You dropped something!" A voice calls out behind you. You turn quickly, snapped out of your dreary thoughts. About thirty feet away a man is approaching, holding up a handkerchief. It's not yours, but despite your unsettled thoughts, you pull your phone from your camera and threaten to call the police. "That's not mine! Leave me alone!" Just to be safe you snap a quick picture of him, your other hand in your purse where your pepper spray is. The man puts his hands up and backs away, and you watch him until he's out of sight.

You open the door to your car, checking the backseat just to be safe. It's empty. Breathing a sigh of relief you start the car and head home.

Unfortunately, Carol's gotten into your head. You hate every word she told you, imagining over and over how Dave must have groveled for her forgiveness (if she's to be believed) and how powerful the emotions were when they had sex (again, if Carol was even telling the truth.) Despite her taunts, you find yourself wondering about other things you'd never put in your mind before. Other awful avenues of possibility have to be thought of.

You know all of Dave's dirty secrets. Not necessarily the details, but you've been trusted with things he'd never told Carol before. In times past that would have made you happy. Boastful, even. But now the devil on your shoulder is reminding you of little facts you'd never thought would pertain to you.

Like spousal testimonial privilege. If Dave is ever caught and would face a prison sentence, you'd be unable to testify against him.

You can't help thinking you're just a means to an end. And if you ever did threaten to speak out against him.. well, he's already planned to kill you once. That you know of.

Sitting across from him at the dinner table, the mood has taken a downward shift. You push the food around your plate, a frown etching lines onto your face as you avoid Dave across the table from you. He's chatting happily with Ben, encouraging him to eat some more green beans.

"What's wrong?" he asks you after giving his son a kiss on the head.

You glide your tongue along your teeth as you search for an answer. He'll see through a lie. But telling him the truth might be worse.

"Come on," he says softly, reaching your your hand across the table and stroking the top of it softly with his thumb.

"Do you love me?" you ask all of a sudden.

"Sweetpea," he says softly, "what kind of question is that? Of course I do." He brushes a soft kiss to your knuckles.

However, it does little to quell your fears. "Don't you hate me for what I did? For breaking up your perfect life with your perfect wife and kids?"

Dave's whole countenance changes. He releases your hand, wiping his mouth with his napkin before setting it down next to his plate.

"What did she tell you?" he asks, as if already knowing his ex-wife is to blame for your mood. "I told you it wasn't a good idea to meet with her. She's a manipulative bit-" he casts a quick glance at his son and changes his word. "She's manipulative. She wants to get under your skin."

"So you didn't fu-" now it's your turn to remember Ben and to change what you're going to say. "You didn't.. lay with her and beg her to take you back?"

"Sweetpea," he says, and you spot the vein in his forehead start to throb. He's anxious and feeling cornered. Nobody gives him those things better than you.

"Do you think any of that matters now? We're together, we're going to get married. Carol has no right to take up any space in your head."

His words ring true, but the selfish, self-antagonizing part of you refuses to let go. You're holding onto this pain like it's treasure. Because for the past few years, pain has been your only currency.

You want to ask why he's marrying you, why he's keeping you around after all. That odd man in the parking lot - was he hired by Carol? Dave? Could it have been a total coincidence? Your defenses are up and you know it's going to be harder to trust him now. You feel foolish for ever thinking things could be square between you and the man whose life you ruined.

From that night, things are chilly between you and Dave. It's like walking a tightrope, a balancing act between acting on how you really feel and risking everything because you're having doubts.You maintain a pleasant facade for Ben's sake, but you're already sleeping facing away from each other, the silent treatment a strain on your relationship, your sex life now nonexistent.

You hate feeling like this, becoming grateful for any little glance he throws you, and then shutting him down when you feel he's getting too close. Dave's no stranger to mind games. He plays them just as well, especially as you've become good at them.

It's an uneventful day when it happens. Paige is with Ben at the playground while you're folding laundry, storing it gently away. You grab Dave's shirts from the hamper, giving them a quick sniff at the collar to take in the last remnants of his cologne. The pain in your heart is starting to overshadow the anger and dismissiveness you've felt towards him these past couple of weeks. Maybe tonight you could forgive him, make his favorite meal and then lead him to the bedroom. Superficially speaking, you've missed the heavy press of him against you in the mornings, the way he'd come up behind you in the bed or in the shower and take what he wanted -- what you enthusiastically gave.

Monotonous chores help alleviate the pain of dwelling on your situation. It would be the easiest thing to go to the spare bedroom/office where Dave is working in quiet and sit on his lap, wrap your arms around him, tell him you want to forget your little tiff. But you also know you're not quite sure which of his temperaments you'll be met with. He might say all is forgotten and still hold it over your head.

But the injurious thought that perhaps he'll walk away still lingers, a grey cloud over what was once your surety, your happiness. You didn't come all this way and grow from broken glass just to fall apart in his arms again. He can come to you and apologize. Even if it takes forever.

You were a fool to think happiness was so easily achievable, that it was meant for someone like you. All this time you knew better and the moment he asked to be part of your life again, you gave up that hard-edged part of yourself you'd come to love. So much for independence.

A sound snaps you from your bitter train of thought, and readiness pauses you, your head on a swivel as you hold your breath and will your heart to pound a little less loudly. It could be nothing.

But you didn't reinvent yourself by taking every perceived danger as "nothing."

Your smart watch alerts you to the back door being opened and your heart nearly stops as your brain goes into overdrive. The person shown onscreen is NOT someone you know. Somehow he knew the access code.

As you're hurrying quietly to where you keep your gun, you use your watch to tap out a quick text to Paige telling her to keep Ben at the park. No reason to worry her, you just tell her you and Dave will meet them there later.

Dave. Where is he? Gun in hand you keep your back to the wall as you make your way to the hallway. Daring a peek out you see the opposite end of the house, and Dave's office with the door closed, a slit of light showing underneath the door. You hope he's gotten the door alert as well, but the fact that he hasn't left the room is concerning.

You move swiftly into the dining room, pausing in wait as you listen out for footsteps or anything that will help locate the intruder. And there it is - the soft scrape of a chair against the kitchen tile.

With your heart in your throat you charge into the kitchen, gun drawn on the intruder, and you recognize him at once.

About five foot ten, medium build, dark hoodie and black jeans.

It's the same guy from the parking lot that day you met Carol at the restaurant. And now he's in your house, an intruder in your safe place.

The gun in his hand as he lifts his aim registers for a split second before you shoot first, watching in horror and awe as your bullet blows him backwards against the kitchen door and he slumps against it, blood pouring from the exit wound at the back of his head.

Dave emerges from his office just in time to see you shoot, and the intruder crumple to the floor, a big black blood stain on your perfectly curated, lemon-themed kitchen. Definitely dead, if the singular bullet wound to the forehead is any sign. Nice headshot, he thinks, before picking up the dead man's gun and walking over to check on you.

You're on the floor, knees huddled to your chest. He takes the gun you're clinging to and gently removes it from your grip, placing both weapons on the table above you, out of reach. "Sweet pea.. are you okay?" He cups your face, brings your eyes to his but there's nothing behind them. You seem empty, a shell. He brings you close to him, holding you tightly and stroking your hair. "It's okay, baby, I've got you.." Above you the mirror hanging in the dining room is shattered, evidence of the intruder's only shot fired off. Just a few inches to the right and he would have killed you.

Dave places his sweater over you to keep you from going into shock, and within a matter of minutes he's called his team to come by. As they start on getting rid of the body and cleaning up the crime scene, Dave brings you to the bathroom and starts a shower. He undresses you with great care, and sheds his own clothes, testing the water before he steps in with you.

He washes your hair, using your favorite peony scented shampoo and lathering it well, letting the conditioner set in while he tenderly washes your body. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder after rinsing out your hair, making sure no bubbles are left.

"You know we can't stay here anymore," he murmurs to you, nudging your ear with his nose. "You know that, right, sweetpea?"

Numbly, you nod. You're still frozen, seeing that man's face in your mind, the look of shock that came over him as you fired the deadly bullet, the fine spray of scarlet that splattered against the pale yellow wall.

The kitchen looks brand new, as if nothing had ever occurred there. Dave's team had come in while you were asleep, practically dead to the world after taking a sleeping pill. You don't ask what happened to the body. You're pretty sure Dave wouldn't tell you anyway. It's not something you need to know. He'd called Paige and asked him to take Ben to her place, without going into too much detail.

Within the week the house is on the market, all your important possessions packed in a U-haul. You only allow a sliver of emotion to pierce your heart as you say goodbye to the home you thought you'd raise your son in. You had hopes and dreams of leaving it to him upon your death so he could raise his own family there. Now all that is up in smoke. Ben is snuggled in the backseat with Paige, both of them napping in the backseat. Raindrops plop on the windows, quickly cleared away by the windshield wipers' steady movement. The sky is gray, with thunder booming in the distance. Dave's hand is holding onto yours in your lap. There are too many unasked questions filling the space between you. Whether out of a need for safety or a need for delusion, you keep those questions to yourself, letting them dissolve in your throat. Only the occasional glance at Dave ensures that everything will be fine, especially when he catches your look and gives you that little smile that makes you melt.

He turns on the radio, searching for a station that isn't spotty due to the storm. An oldies rock station is playing "Livin' On a Prayer" by none other than Bon Jovi. You and Dave exchange a glance, little secretive smile gracing your mouths.

"Told you it's oldies now," you tease him.

He just chuckles, squeezing your hand and turning up the volume a little, singing to you.

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taglist: @untamedheart81 @guelyury @auteurdelabre @darkheartgatita @joelalorian

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skywarpie · 2 years ago

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When copia said "I'm taking me time. I'm working on me." I felt that

#the band ghost #i just think spending time with ch 9 popia would cure me #okay to reblog i guess #ghost band #ghost bc #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv

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evereverest2 · 4 months ago

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Little Monster —Terzomega

Ch. One: Suitable (2.1k words)

Whatever Omega’s pissed about tonight, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a quick fuck.

note: this is an ongoing rewrite of the original little monster series. the legacy version can still be accessed here.

chapters: [one] | two

tags: mentions of violent acts, alcohol abuse, smut, choking, hair pulling, hate fucking, irresponsible use of quintessence, very dubious consent, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (specifically with the hate fucking)

—

There was little use in trying anymore.

His rowdy ghouls were talking over the television, sitting on one another, and making filthy gestures. Even Alpha had sat himself down and leaned into his side, casting a leg over his lap, though he at least had the decency to be quiet. Quiet. That was all he wanted. Well, not total silence. That would allow for his thoughts to plague him. He actually wanted the trashy human show about doctors to distract him. White noise. An empty room. Which it had been, for about ten minutes when he first sat down. Damn his pack.

Those luxuries of independence and silence were such that Omega was not afforded. The obnoxious voices were stabbing into his eardrums, their presence like needles in his skull. Smelling their lust and jovial moods made him want to retch, his quintessence overwhelmed by their stenchful brains. Alpha’s insistence on being in his personal space was worst, making his head rush and his skin crawl.

All of a sudden he stood, letting Alpha’s leg fall off him. He caught himself, looking up at Omega.

“You okay?” he asked.

Omega’s tail flicked restlessly, his teeth grit in a last effort to not completely erupt. “Yeah. I forgot I had to do something.”

He stalked out of the room, ignoring the other jeers that followed after him like a terrible odor. If he could only hardly tolerate Alpha, then the other ghouls would break him completely.

He stormed about without a destination, his mind desperate for some way to release all of the anger trapped within him. Omega was a leader, both to his ghouls and many of the siblings. Not a single one would understand if he lost it. They would rat on him. Turn against him for his vulnerability. He used to be so placid—that was how he had to remain, even in light of…

Omega clenched his fists. He needed to get out. His rage was blinding, pulling him to the nearest door, rounding the corner just to run straight into someone else.

It was Special, glaring up at him through their mask, their horribly bright eyes the only thing visible beneath the shadow of their face. “Pardon me.”

Omega said nothing, waiting for them to pass. Instead, they spoke again.

“Sister Imperator has requested your audience tomorrow morning.”

“Fine.”

Special took a step forward, then lingered. “Don’t bring that scowl with you.”

If it were not for who he saw next, Omega may have just ripped Special’s head off with his teeth and painted the walls with their blood.

But as Special walked away, Omega locked eyes with Cardinal Terzo, who had quite clearly been sneaking out of the kitchen with a bottle of wine., pausing mid-step as he noticed the ghoul. Terzo gave him a crooked smile, his half-lidded gaze and unbalanced walk indicative of the oblivion he had already drank himself into.

And that was fine with Omega. After all, they had an understanding.

When the hall had cleared, Omega met Terzo and pressed his hand into his lower back, urging him forward.

“Hello to you too, ghoul,” Terzo chuckled, emitting a sweet wine scent. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Omega attempted to poke through the fog with his quintessence, subconsciously searching to gauge his emotions. The intoxicated mind would not budge to his prodding, and so Omega decided he had to use his words.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“You never talk.”

Omega grunted in affirmation, roughly halting to peer around the corner, and back again behind them. His mind reached around the space, a purple web of consciousness threaded throughout the ministry to tell him if anyone was near. Nobody was. It was just them.

He continued urging them to Terzo’s quarters, shoving the cardinal inside when they had at last reached the door. Terzo sighed dramatically at the entrance, twisting off the top of his wine and flicking off the cap.

“Can you believe they buy this cheap shit?” Terzo glared at the bottle before taking a deep swig. “I mean, who hears of a screw top?”

“If you don’t set that down I will break it,” Omega warned, undoing his belt.

“Mm,” Terzo took one last drink before slamming it on his end table. “It is one of those nights, is it ghoul?”

“Shut up and strip.”

Terzo complied. Omega hated seeing such a satisfied smile on his face. But he was filled with this red-hot joy—he no longer had to suppress his need to lash out violently. There was no better toy than the cardinal. His toy.

Omega grabbed Terzo, now naked, gripping him carelessly with his claws, and threw him into his bed, bending him over the side.

“Will you use lube, eh? You try every time and never—“

“Shut the fuck up,” Omega growled, having hit his ceiling of tolerance several hours ago. “I’ll use it if you don’t make another sound.”

Terzo knew better than to test his word and said nothing. Omega begrudgingly grabbed the bottle where it always was—so prominently displayed on his nightstand—and gave himself a palmful of the stuff. With his other hand, he undid his pants and tugged them down just enough to free his cock.

Not even hard. Omega growled again, gripping himself angrily and choking the life out of his dick. The longer it took the more frustrated he became, because he knew Terzo was waiting, that he would know something was amiss. How humiliating.

He saw from the corner of his eye Terzo just beginning to turn. His reflexes were quicker—his other hand shot out to grab him by the hair, yanking it back and causing him to yelp in pain.

“You better fucking stay still,” Omega barked, pulling tighter on his hair. Terzo gave another small cry. The sound made his cock kick.

Omega flipped him over only to pull on his hair again, jerking his head to the side as he now lay on the bed facing the wrath of the demon. With his other hand, he wrapped his fingers around his throat. Still wet with lube, he struggled to get a grip and used his claws as an anchor, drawing minute droplets of blood with the effort. Terzo was whimpering, choking out scared sounds, reaching up to scratch his dusky purple hand in a pathetic attempt to save himself from Omega’s brutality. His eyes bugged out in terror, his lips quivering in an attempt to scream.

They both knew Omega could kill him. They both felt that satanic rage burning like an inferno around him, threatening to consume him and the world. There was little use in concealing his anger anymore—but why would he? Omega did not have to hide from this pathetic man who so loved to be broken. There was no respect to be won, no need to be placid and strong. Omega wanted Terzo’s fear. He wanted him to beg for his life.

It made him hard.

Omega let go of his throat to split Terzo’s legs and line himself up with his asshole, pushing in without hesitation. Terzo was coughing, gasping, trying to catch his breath even as the large ghoul ripped through him and made his eyes well with tears of pain.

“You’re too fucking tight,” Omega seethed, displeased at only having shoved his tip within him.

“God—dammit ghoul—!” Terzo hissed through clenched teeth.

“What the hell do you want from me?”

“To give me one motherfucking minute!”

“Humans are pathetic,” Omega said angrily.

“Si, si, we are so pathetic,” Terzo huffed sarcastically. “That is why you crawl to me instead of your ghouls.”

Omega snapped his teeth with a roar, his fangs a breath away from his face. Terzo flinched harshly, one of the welled tears in his eyes spilling into the black paint of his makeup and smearing down the side of his face.

Impatient, Omega swiped the lube bottle once again and squeezed it so hard it burst all over him and Terzo in an explosion of thick, clear liquid. It did not matter; a majority of it made it where it needed to go, thanks to a quick rub from Omega, and with some effort, he finished shoving inside Terzo with a scream from the latter.

“Fuck you—!” Terzo screamed, his voice breaking.

“Take it.”

Omega began thrusting quickly, Terzo’s legs wrapping around his lower back tightly as his fists clenched and his body tensed. Omega could feel his body shaking, clenching around him, but it only felt better for him. He held him down by the hips, cementing him in place as if he were nothing more than a doll. No kisses, no caresses, not even a tender glance. Omega was here to vent physically, to wear himself out into the human.

Terzo could take it.

He was still hard, of course he liked it. Of course he could take it. Their agreement—a simple, verbal affirmation that they could fuck without strings—was not only for Omega: The third Emeritus, like all the upper members of the Clergy, looked down on ghouls and thought it a novelty to be fucked by satanic spawn. One of those disturbed humans who loved to suffer sexually. If he did not want it, he could have Omega sent back to the Pits with the snap of his fingers. His cute outbursts were nothing more than roleplay—at least, for him. Omega was still quite eager to see the cardinal die on his dick.

Even if Terzo was reluctant to punish the ghoul, he could just as easily break off their agreement. Omega had no problem testing his limits and pushing him to the brink. Communication was something that humans so loved—Omega just loved to see a bitch cry.

And how that bitch cried, taking Omega’s dick like the greedy slut he was. Omega leaned forward to lick his face, tasting his tears, his sweat, his rotten grape pungency that continued to conceal his emotions. Terzo was never one to share—but certainly one to take. Oh, he took it fine. Just fine, that weeping bastard.

His tears were getting Omega off, those pearly droplets making his dick harder and his thrusts quicker. If he could just break through the barrier of wine he could feel his pain, feel his own dick slamming into the puny human. But he wouldn’t be distracted from the pleasure; Omega had not read Terzo once in the entire time he had known him. Trying was fruitless, and his tight ass was suitable enough to make him cum alone.

It was suitable.

The anger indeed melted away with the release, his heart slowed with his breaths, his head cleared. He pulled his pants up and did his belt.

Terzo sat up, looking at him from between his legs.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“It was sufficient.”

“Not for me,” Terzo frowned, gesturing at his erection.

Omega glanced down, then turned to leave.

“If you do not get me off tonight, ghoul, don’t bother returning next time you get too pissy to fuck one of your ghouls.”

Omega paused, sighed heavily. Usually, Terzo finished long before he was done. It just so happened it was already late, and Omega had gotten his fill rather fast.

Perhaps Omega could not penetrate the barrier that held Terzo’s emotions, but he could certainly flood his mind. He turned again, drawing the link between their minds, and surging forth his magic the moment he gripped Terzo’s dick.

The pleasure magic made his work easy. It only took a dozen or so strokes to finish him off, spewing forth the human semen that disgusted Omega so. His eyes rolled back and he drooled—though there was little effort, the quintessence was currently lighting fireworks in his nervous system that made it feel like an earth-shattering experience. Terzo smiled like an idiot, now drunk on two substances. It was a wonder he let Omega threaten his life with every fuck; the quintessence was a high he would never grow a tolerance for.

“Done?” Omega said, more like a statement than a question. Terzo nodded.

“But—“

Omega paused mid-stride, glancing over his shoulder. Terzo scrambled to his feet, his legs weak but holding firm. “But—you could stay. If those ghouls are a bother…”

Omega let out a short, humorless laugh. He did not even entertain him with a response, instead checking to see if the hallway was clear. He heard the clink of the wine bottle and Terzo’s soft yet desperate gulps before he shut the door behind him.

chapters: [one] | two

note: hi guys! if you read the og series, i would reallllyyyy appreciate if u let me know how u felt about this version. better, worse, etc. any general sentiments u have on it.... i would just like to know the general audience vibe for this rewrite THANKS!!!

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catgirl-lucy · 5 months ago

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Forcing & Independence of the Continuum Hypothesis

My favourite result in maths is probably the independence of the continuum hypothesis. In this post, I aim to explain forcing and why the continuum hypothesis cannot be proven in ZFC. The continuum hypothesis (CH) is the statement that there is no cardinal number between ℵ₀ and 2^ℵ₀. When forcing, you start with a model V of ZFC and extend it to a model V[G] by adding some object G, in such a way that V[G] satisfies the axioms of ZFC but also the existence of G, with the intention of showing that G can exist without contradicting the axioms of ZFC. For example, when starting with a model V of ZFC + CH and G contains information for how to build ℵ₂ distinct reals, V[G] would satisfy the existence of ℵ₂ many reals and thus not satisfy CH.

I assume everyone who reads this knows the theory ZFC and has basic understanding of ordinal and cardinal numbers.

A theory T is a set of axioms in first order logic. A proof in T is a sequence φ₁ .. φₙ of formulas such that each formula is an axiom of T or follows logically from previous formulae in the sequence, this proof is said to prove the formula φₙ. For a formula φ, we write T ⊦ φ to mean that there is a proof φ₁ .. φₙ (φ = φₙ) of φ in T. T is inconsistent if it proves the always false statement ⊥, T is consistent if it does not prove this statement. We write Con(T) for “T is consistent”. T ⊬ φ is equivalent to Con(T + ¬φ), so to show that ZFC cannot prove or disprove CH, we want to show Con(ZFC + ¬CH) and Con(ZFC + CH), assuming that ZFC is consistent.

To show that Con(ZFC) implies Con(ZFC + ¬CH), we start with a model V of ZFC and add ω₂ many reals (subsets of ω) to it. However, we don't have anywhere to get those ω₂ reals from ¯\(˙˘˙)/¯ We can't get them simply out of V as that'd mean V already has at least ω₂ many reals. What we do is assume the existence of a larger universe V⁺ that V lives in. Usually, when forcing, the existence of the larger universe V⁺ is implicit, but I state its existence explicitly to avoid confusion.

We can try to define a theory ZFC⁺ extending ZFC by adding a constant symbol V (the universe of ZFC⁺ is called V⁺ rather than V) and the axiom “V is a model of ZFC”, however, even without assuming nice properties of V like it being a well-founded model, the consistency of ZFC⁺ is stronger than that of ZFC, but ideally, we want to show that Con(ZFC + ¬CH) follows from Con(ZFC), not Con(ZFC⁺).

Luckily, ZFC already sort-of proves the existence of models of ZFC. To be more precise, for every finite fragment t of ZFC, ZFC proves that there is a model of t. However, ZFC does not prove the statement ‘for all finite fragments t of ZFC, there is a model of t’! ∀n T ⊦ φ(n) and T ⊦ ∀n φ(n) are two different statements, it's important to know the distinction!

Let t be a finite fragment of ZFC, aiming to show that ZFC ⊦ ∃M M ⊧ t (⊧ is the symbol for ‘satisfies’ or ‘is a model of’). We'll build the model M by starting with the empty set M_0 = ∅ and adding more and more elements to it until it satisfies ZFC. Since t is a finite fragment of ZFC, we have that V ⊧ t. If t were to be infinite, V ⊧ t would be an infinite conjunction of the formulas in t, and infinite formulas don't exist in first order logic, hence we assume t to be finite. To build the next model M_1, for every formula of the form ∃x φ(x) that t proves, we have that V ⊧ ∃x φ(x), and thus there is some x such that φ(x). We add some x that satisfies φ(x) to M_1 for every such formula ∃x φ(x). We do the same for M_2, but instead of adding x for each ∃x φ(x), we add some x for every y in M_1 and every formula of the form ∃x φ(x,y) that t proves. We do the same with M_3: we add some x satisfying φ(x,y) for every y ∈ M_2 and every formula of the form ∃x φ(x,y) that t proves. We continue this infinitely, and we then define M = ⋃{M_n | n ∈ ℕ} as the union of all M_n. By induction on the complexity of formulas, we can show that M ⊧ φ for every φ such that t ⊦ φ, proving this is left as an exercise to the reader.

Since there are only countably many formulas, every M_n must be countable, and so their union, M, is countable as well. We also have that M is a standard model: it has sets x and uses the real membership relation as its own membership relation. Besides showing that for every finite fragment t of ZFC, ZFC proves that there exists a model of t, we have shown that we can assume this model to be standard and countable.

The construction of the model M we have performed is called a Skolem hull. Usually, when taking Skolem hulls, we take all formulas φ that the original model (in this case, V) satisfies instead of only those that are proven by some theory t, but we couldn't do that as there are an infinite amount of models that V satisfies and a proof in ZFC may only use a finite number of axioms. Skolem hulls are my second favourite thing from model theory and it could be useful to have it in your toolbox.

Although M is a standard model of the theory t, it isn't transitive. A transitive set is a set X such that, for every x ∈ X, we have x ⊂ X. It's usually easier to work with transitive models. We can turn M into a transitive model by the use of a Mostowski collapse. You can read the Wikipedia article on it if you want to know what that is, this is a post about forcing, not Mostowski collapses and Skolem hulls.

Instead of adding the axiom ‘V is a model of ZFC’ to ZFC⁺, we can add, for each individual axiom φ of ZFC, the axiom ‘V ⊧ φ’. And, as we have shown above, we can also add the axiom ‘V is countable and transitive’. Since proofs in ZFC⁺ may only use a finite amount of axioms, they may only use a finite amount of axioms of the form ‘V ⊧ φ’, so ZFC⁺ thinks that V satisfies finite fragments of ZFC without realizing it satisfies the whole of ZFC: it might think there is a very long formula φ that V doesn't satisfy while, in reality, such a formula would be infinitely long and doesn't actually exist.

One theorem from logic that we'll use is the compactness theorem. This theorem states that, for a theory T of first order logic, if T is inconsistent then a finite fragment of T is inconsistent. Contrapositively, if every finite fragment of T is consistent, then T must be consistent as well. A proof of this theorem is quite easy.

Another important lemma we'll use is that if a theory T proves a finite theory S is consistent, then S must be consistent. If S were to be inconsitent, then there must be some proof φ₁ .. φₙ of ⊥ in S, and T would prove that φ₁ .. φₙ is a proof of ⊥ as checking if a proof is correct is as simple as just running an algorithm. Thus, for a finite fragment S of ZFC+¬CH, if ZFC⁺ proves S is consistent, then S must be consistent. And if ZFC⁺ proves S is consistent for every finite fragment S of ZFC+¬CH, then ZFC+¬CH must be consistent by compactness.

Since V is countable in V⁺, the ω₂ of V, written ω₂^V, is a countable ordinal in V⁺ while the ω₂ of V⁺, written ω₂^V⁺, doesn't exist in V. I'll work in the universe V unless otherwise specified, so ω₂ refers to ω₂^V rather than ω₂^V⁺, and countable means countable in V rather than countable in V⁺. For some object x and a model M, x^M refers to the interpretation of x in M.

So now that we have the little universe V and the big universe V⁺, we want to add ω₂ reals to V. Since V is countable in V⁺, there are a lot of things outside of V in V⁺. For example, P(ω) ∩ V is countable in V⁺, while the P(ω) of V⁺ is uncountable in V⁺, meaning that P(ω) \ V must be uncountable, so V is missing a lot of reals that can be added into V. However, if we simply take a set X ⊂ P(ω)^V⁺ such that V thinks X has cardinality ω₂, and then add it to V by just adjoining it like so: V ∪ {X}, this new model is no longer a model of ZFC. It has a universe V, but also just another object X adjoint to it, and things like X ∪ ℕ, X × X, etc, don't exist, while they should for V ∪ {X} to be a model of ZFC.

Thus, instead of adding a single new element X, forcing aims to add an object G in such a way that the axioms of ZFC are still satisfied. It does this through the use of names. A name is an object in V that describes an object in the extended universe V[G], but without a way to interpret the name in V, those objects that exist in V[G] don't yet exist in V. The object G gives a way to interpret the names in V, and interpreting every name in V through G gives the new model V[G]. Explaining what that means exactly requires the definition of a forcing poset, which I'll now explain.

A partial ordered set (poset) is a structure (P,≤) with a set P and a binary relation ≤ on P, such that:

≤ is reflexive: x ≤ x for all x ∈ P.

≤ is transitive: if x ≤ y and y ≤ z then x ≤ z for all x,y,z ∈ P.

≤ is antisymmetric: if x ≤ y and y ≤ x then x = y for all x,y ∈ P.

Two elements x,y ∈ P are compatible if there is some z such that z ≤ x and z ≤ y. x and y are incompatible if no such z exists. A forcing poset is a poset P with the additional axioms:

There is a greatest element 1 ∈ P.

For every x ∈ P, there are y,z ∈ P such that y ≤ x, z ≤ x and y and z are incompatible.

The last axiom is called the splitting condition. Members of a forcing poset P are called forcing conditions. x ≤ y is read as ‘x is stronger than y’ or ‘x extends y’. Forcing conditions can be thought of as statements that can be true or false, these statements say something about the object being added, where the greatest element 1 is a statement that is always true. The forcing poset that we'll focus on in this blog post is called Cohen forcing. Forcing conditions are finite partial functions from ω₂ × ω to {0,1}. That is, functions from a finite subset of ω₂ × ω to the set {0,1}. For forcing conditions p and q, p ≤ q iff p is a function extension of q, i.e. dom(p) ⊃ dom(q) and p(α,n) = q(α,n) for all (α,n) ∈ dom(q). A forcing condition p: ω₂ × ω ⇀ {0,1} says something about the object g: ω₂ × ω → {0,1} that is being added, namely, that g(x) = p(x) for all x ∈ dom(p). For every α < ω₂, {n | g(α,n) = 1} will be a new real in the new model V[G], meaning that there will be ω₂ many new reals and CH will break.

For a forcing poset P, a P-name is a set of tuples (σ,p) where σ ∈ V^P is a P-name and p ∈ P is a forcing condition, this set may be empty. Alternatively, the class of P-names, V^P, can be defined by induction:

V^P_0 = ∅.

V^P_α+1 = P(V^P_α × P) for an ordinal α.

V^P_α = ⋃{β<α} V^P_β for limit ordinal α.

Then, V^P = ⋃{α ∈ Ord} V^P_α is the class of P-names. A P-name {(σ,p)} means ‘this set contains σ iff p is true’. Thus, for a set x, we can define a P-name &x for x as follows &x = {(&y,1) | y ∈ x} as 1 is always true. We can also define the set of all true forcing conditions as &G = {(&p,p) | p ∈ P}, which contains p iff p is true.

A way to decide which forcing conditions are true and which are false is done using a filter. A filter F on P is a subset F ⊂ P such that:

1 ∈ F.

If x ∈ F and x ≤ y, then y ∈ F.

For all x,y ∈ F, there is some z ∈ F such that z ≤ x and z ≤ y.

A filter decides what forcing conditions are true and which are false: members of the filter are true forcing conditions, while things that aren't in the filter are false. The first axiom of a filter, 1 ∈ F, states that the statement 1 is true, the second axiom states that x is true and x implies y, then y is true, and the third statement states that no members of the filter contradict each other (i.e. none are incompatible).

However, not any filter will do. If the filter F is already in the model V, then we don't add anything new to V. It might also be possible to break axioms of ZFC such as comprehension with certain filters. Because of this, we use a special filter called a generic filter.

A forcing poset P has a topology. An open set in P is a set O ⊂ P that is downwards closed, i.e. for every x ∈ O and every y ∈ P such that y ≤ x, we have y ∈ O. A set D is dense if it meets all non-empty open sets. In P, that means that D is dense iff ∀x ∈ P ∃y ∈ D y ≤ x. For a family D of dense subsets of P, a filter G ⊂ P is D-generic iff G meets all dense D ∈ D. One important theorem used to construct generic sets is the Rasiowa-Sikorski lemma. This lemma states that, if P is a forcing poset, p ∈ P is a forcing condition, and D is a countable family of dense subsets of P, then there is a D-generic filter G on P that contains p. A proof of this lemma is left as an exercise to the reader. Since V is countable in V⁺, we can apply the Rasiowa-Sikorski lemma to it: we can define a V-generic filter as a filter that is D-generic filter for D = {D ∈ V | D is a dense subset of P}, and since D is countable in V⁺, such a generic filter G exists in V⁺. I'll often call a V-generic filter simply a generic filter.

Given a forcing poset P ∈ V, a generic filter G ⊂ P on P and a P-name σ ∈ V^P, the interpretation of σ by G is defined as σ^G := {τ^G | ∃p ∈ G (τ,p) ∈ σ}. One can verify that, for x ∈ V, we have &x^G = x and &G^G = G for &G = {(&p,p) | p ∈ P}. V[G] is defined as V[G] = {σ^G | σ ∈ V^P}. Now, all we have to do is verify that V[G] is indeed a model of ZFC and, when P is Cohen forcing, that V[G] satisfies ¬CH.

Im eepy. I'll do that another day -.- Good night.

Hi. I hope you slept well. I'll now continue with explaining forcing.

For a forcing condition p ∈ P, P-names τ₁ .. τₙ and a formula φ, p forces φ(τ₁ .. τₙ), denoted p ⊩ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ), if for all generic G ⊂ P with p ∈ G, we have V[G] ⊧ φ(τ₁^G .. τₙ^G). The following three lemmas are important in forcing:

Definability For every formula φ, there is a formula ψ such that for all forcing conditions p and all P-names τ₁ .. τₙ, p ⊩ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ) iff V ⊧ ψ(p,τ₁ .. τₙ). I.e. ‘p forces φ(τ₁ .. τₙ)’ is definable in V.

Coherence If p ⊩ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ) and q ≤ p, then q ⊩ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ).

Truth If V[G] ⊧ φ(τ₁^G .. τₙ^G) then there is some forcing condition p such that p ⊩ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ). That is, a statement is true iff it is forced.

I encourage you to try proving these lemmas yourself. Coherence is quite easy, but the other two might be more difficult to prove. I'll give a proof for definability and truth.

First, we'll define ⊩* by induction on the complexity of formulas. We'll start with atomic formulas. When does p force σ ∈ τ? One naive guess might be if ∃q ≥ p (σ,q) ∈ τ, however, this doesn't quite work. There might be a P-name ρ such that σ ≠ ρ, yet p ⊩ σ = ρ and ∃q ≥ p (ρ,q) ∈ τ but ∄q ≥ p (σ,q) ∈ τ. Thus, we define p ⊩* σ ∈ τ as ∃(ρ,q) ∈ τ p ⊩* σ = ρ.

So now we need to define p ⊩* σ = τ. By the axiom of extensionality, two sets are equal if they contain the same elements. Thus, we can define p ⊩* σ = τ as ∀ρ ∈ V^P p ⊩* "ρ ∈ σ" ⇔ p ⊩* "ρ ∈ τ". This might seem self-referential, as we define equality in terms of membership, which is itself defined in terms of equality, but we can define it inductively as the rank of the names always decrease. The rank of σ is the smallest ordinal α such that σ is in V^P_{α+1}. The quantor '∀ρ ∈ V^P' currently ranges of all P-names (thus, also those with higher rank than σ or τ), but we can fix that by defining ⊩* ≠ instead of ⊩* =, and then we can define p ⊩* σ = τ as p ⊩* ¬σ ≠ τ.

p ⊩* σ ≠ τ iff (∃(ρ,q) ∈ τ q ≥ p ∧ p ⊩* ¬ρ ∈ σ) ∨ (∃(ρ,q) ∈ σ q ≥ p ∧ p ⊩* ¬ρ ∈ τ).

So now we can define ⊩* ¬, ⊩* ∨ and ⊩* ∃ as follows:

p ⊩* ¬φ(τ₁ .. τₙ) iff ∀q ≤ p ¬q ⊩* φ(τ₁ .. τₙ).

p ⊩* "φ(τ₁ .. τₙ) ∨ ψ(τ₁ .. τₙ)" iff p ⊩* "φ(τ₁ .. τₙ)" ∨ p ⊩* "ψ(τ₁ .. τₙ)".

p ⊩* ∃x φ(x, τ₁ .. τₙ) iff ∃σ ∈ V^P p ⊩* φ(σ, τ₁ .. τₙ).

This internal definition of forcing is almost complete. However, what if a formula φ is forced by p, not because φ is immediately apparent, but because the only forcing conditions that extend p immediately force φ? To give a more concrete example, suppose σ = ∅, τ = {(σ,p), (σ,q)} are P-names, and p = {((0,0),0)} and q = {((0,0),1)} are (incompatible) forcing conditions in Cohen forcing. Then, we don't have 1 ⊩* σ ∈ τ, however, σ ∈ τ is still forced by 1 as any generic filter that contains 1 also contains p or q. Thus, the final step of the definition of forcing is p ⊩ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ) iff {q | q ⊩* φ(τ₁ .. τₙ)} is dense below p, equivalently, p ⊩ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ) iff p ⊩* ¬¬φ(τ₁ .. τₙ).

The last part of the proof of definability is checking that our internal definition of forcing is correct. This is left as an exercise to the reader.

Now I'll give a proof of truth. Although in no point in the proof of definability genericity is relevant, it is very important for truth. Truth states that for a formula φ and P-names τ₁ .. τₙ, if V[G] ⊧ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ), then there is some p ∈ G so that p ⊩ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ). That is, a formula is true if and only if it is forced.

For a statement φ and P-names τ₁ .. τₙ, we can define the set D_φ = {p | p ⊩ φ(τ₁ .. τₙ) ∨ p ⊩ ¬φ(τ₁ .. τₙ)}. Thus, D_φ is the set of forcing conditions that decide φ. We can verify that D_φ is a dense set: we have 1 ⊩ φ ∨ ¬φ as φ ∨ ¬φ is always true, this is equivalent to 1 ⊩* ¬¬(φ ∨ ¬φ) when using the internal definition, i.e. {p | p ⊩* φ ∨ ¬φ} = {p | p ⊩* φ ∨ p ⊩* ¬φ} is dense, and since D_φ is a superset of this set, it must be dense as well. Since D_φ is dense and G is generic, G ∩ D_φ must be non-empty, so some p ∈ G must force φ or force ¬φ. Thus, every formula that is true in V[G] is forced by some forcing condition in G.

We can use definability, coherence and truth to prove that V[G] ⊧ ZFC. I'll leave this as an exercise to reader, cuz... why not ¯\(˙˘˙)/¯ Extensionality and foundation hold in V[G] as V[G] is a transitive model of ZFC, union and infinity aren't too difficult to prove, separation and powerset might be a bit more tricky, the argument for why V[G] satisfies replacement is similar to that of separation, and choice might be a little bit more difficult than the others. I'll give a proof for why V[G] satisfies the axiom lemma of pairing so you have some inspiration for your proof.

Given sets x and y in V[G], we want to show that {x,y} is a set. x and y have P-names, let's call them σ and τ. We can now define a P-name ρ := {(σ,1), (τ,1)}. We can see that ρ^G = {σ^G, τ^G} = {x,y} ∈ V[G], and thus V[G] satisfies the lemma of pairing.

So now that we know V[G] is a model of ZFC (at least, for every finite fragment t of ZFC, ZFC⁺ proves that V[G] is a model of t), we now need to show that V[G] ⊧ ¬CH when using Cohen forcing. We want to add more than ω₁ reals, e.g. ω₂ reals, to the model V. We thus want G to encode information for a set of ω₂ distinct reals. Since a real is an infinite sequence of 0s and 1s, we thus want a ω₂ × ω table of 0s and 1s so that none of the rows are equal. In Cohen forcing, the forcing conditions encode partial information about this ω₂ × ω table. The forcing conditions are finite partial functions from ω₂ × ω to {0,1}, i.e. functions with finitely many pairs (α,n) for ordinals α < ω₂ and natural numbers n as domain, that maps each (α,n) in its domain to either 0 or 1. For forcing conditions p and q, we have p ≤ q iff p is a function extension of q, i.e. dom(q) ⊂ dom(p) and p(α,n) = q(α,n) for all (α,n) ∈ dom(q). A generic filter G on P would thus consist of finite partial functions p: ω₂ × ω ⇀ {0,1} that together form a function g: ω₂ × ω → {0,1} defined as g = ⋃G. For each ordinal α, r_α = {n | g(α,n) = 1} ⊂ ω is a real in the model V[G]. We can use the genericity of G to show that all reals r_α are distinct: suppose we have r_α = r_β for some α ≠ β. Then, there must be some p ∈ G such that p ⊩ r_α = r_β. However, no such p can exist: p may only contain finite information about r_α and r_β, but r_α = r_β means that g(α,n) and g(β,n) are equal on all, and thus infinitely many, n. We can define a dense set D_{α,β} = {p ∈ P | ∃n p(α,n) ≠ q(β,n)}, it's easy to check that this set is dense for α ≠ β, and thus G ∩ D_{α,β} is non-empty. This means that all reals r_α are indeed distinct reals. We thus have added ω₂ distinct reals to V.

But we're still missing something. Can you spot it? No..? Oh, okay. Don't worry. I'll tell you. We have added ω₂^V reals, but we need ω₂^V[G] reals, and nothing so far tells us that ω₂^V and ω₂^V[G] should be equal!

Luckily, they are equal. Here is proof:

Cohen forcing satisfies the countable chain condition. A (strong) antichain A ⊂ P is a set of forcing conditions that are pairwise incompatible, i.e. ∀p,q ∈ A p ≠ q → p ⊥ q. Usually, the word antichain is used to refer to sets of pairwise incomparable elements, but incomparability is kinda useless when forcing as opposed to incompatibility (two objects x and y in a poset are incomparable iff x ≰ y and y ≰ x). The κ-chain condition (κ-c.c) states that, given any antichain A ⊂ P, the cardinality of A is <κ. The countable chain condition (c.c.c) is the ω₁-chain condition, i.e. all antichains are countable.

If P satisfies the c.c.c, then for every function f ∈ V[G] from some D ∈ V to V, there is a function F ∈ V[G] from D to V such that, for every x ∈ D, F(x) is countable and f(x) ∈ F(x). I.e. functions in V[G] can be approximated by "countable covering functions" in V (‘countable covering function’ is not a term, I just made that up :p).

The above lemma can be used to show that, when P has the countable chain condition, if κ is an uncountable regular cardinal in V, then κ must also be uncountable regular in V[G]. In otherwords, for any uncountable regular cardinal κ, P does not collapse κ (P collapses κ if κ is no longer a regular cardinal in the forcing extension V[G]). Proving these three things ((i) Cohen forcing has the c.c.c, (ii) if P has the c.c.c then for every function f: D → V in V[G] for D ∈ V has a "countable covering function" and (iii) if P has the c.c.c then it collapses no regular cardinals) are left as an exercise to the reader.

And that completes the proof of Con(ZFC) → Con(ZFC + ¬CH). Good night everyone! mi wile lape -.- If you have trouble understanding something in this blog post, or you have some other questions, you can tell me! Holidays are starting for me now so I currently have a lot of free time.

I was planning to make an introduction to set theory, but that post isn't going that well. I don't know what my next maths post will be about.

Bye!~

#set theory #maths #math #mathblr #forcing

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