#e beggar

[caustic-pixie]

This Tumblr is anti e-begging. Don't send your GFM here.

If you send an ask or DM looking for boosts or resources, you will be reported as spam and blocked.

[that-wizard-oki]

*Lies down* kids the chronic pain is real tonight can i ask. for some motivation.... to Do The Thing. thank you

[pier-carlo-universe]

Fiori di Pesco – Volpedo celebra la seconda edizione tra letteratura, musica e arte: un viaggio poetico nel cuore dell’essere umano. Recensione di Alessandria today

Informazioni essenziali sull’evento:📍 Dove: Volpedo (AL)📅 Quando: 4-5-6 aprile 2025🎟️ Ingresso: gratuito🎨 Tema: “Incessante transito: il cammino dell’essere umano fra un qui e un altrove” Evento:La seconda edizione di “Fiori di Pesco – Agricoltura in mostra” si prepara a trasformare Volpedo, uno dei borghi più affascinanti del Piemonte, in un palcoscenico diffuso dove agricoltura, arte,…

[asscreedtrash]

i’m begging on my hands and knees for all the cod simps who play cod to be my friends and play with me i need more cod friends p l e a s e

[oliviawebsite]

disabled, unemployed, and in need of help

i know ive been asking for a lot of help but when you get left out in the cold by your employer after a bad relapse of a chronic illness, it's not so easy to get back on your feet in a swift manner. this is me simply asking for help maintaining a general fund to survive until i either find new employment or start to make some headway on applying for ssdi.

i am physically and mentally incapable of working a normal full time job but continue the endless process of appealing and getting rejected for disability because my condition spends "significant amounts of time in remission" which is all fine and good until it comes back to bite me even harder and i end up dropping the ball on responsibilities bc i can barely walk or get out of bed.

i know many of us are struggling in similar ways, i don't expect a lot but just enough to keep me floating until i can find secure income once again. im sorry that my many failures and shortcomings have led to me being an e-beggar likes this. i know you'd rather not see me doing this. i don't want to be doing it either. but i also don't want to starve or end up homeless because of a bad couple of months. no one should have to go through that. and i especially am keen to not repeat that experience ever again.

if there is anything you can do to help a seriously chronically ill trans woman with a scrambled and broken brain i would greatly appreciate it. i will return the favor whenever i have the means. we are in this together and all that. i love you, please help or share if you can. I am setting a short-term target of $600 since this seems like a reasonable nest to safely carry me to my next paycheck.

0/600

paypal link

venmo link

$claireol on the cash app

bandcamp page to buy my music (material exchange of goods and services)

[weedpoop]

i’m still working on getting a job but things are extremely difficult rn bc i still have bills to pay. if anyone could help at all i will literally pay u back as soon as i can

so uh long story short i’ve been unemployed for a minute due to my disability and have been trying to find jobs with very little luck. my partner and i live with his parents at the moment and are trying to get out of here bc they’re transphobic as hell. this is also just an extremely difficult time bc my own mom is dying and i currently cannot go visit her but etc we all have difficult lives so that’s enough of my sob story

i’m still applying to jobs left and right but it feels incredibly hopeless rn. if anyone could help with literally anything it would mean the world, i’ll write you fic or draw something for you or make you a song or something. whatever u want

ily guys

[lambcultist]

꒰ ♱ ꒱ guided masturbation with els. cw ; dbf!ellie, pilot!ellie, age gap (ellie in her 30s, reader 18-20). phone sex (facetime), body inspection ?, edging (r), vibrator usage (r), clit play + fingering (e), dom!ellie, sub!reader. read more about this au in general here.

you set your phone down on the nightstand, propped up carefully against a pile of books. you treat the matter delicately, making sure the angle is perfect in anticipation for her viewing, and your body is bare just like she had requested of you. the vibrator lies next to your feet, and you kneel on your bed.

the call comes through and with a fluttering heart, you answer before your ringtone gets to play. on the other end, ellie's sat on the edge of a bed, leaning forward to take in your appearance. a scrutinising smirk curls her lips upward, and she finally speaks.

"you look real pretty, don't you?"

ellie must have only just got to her hotel, because she hasn't bothered to change out of her uniform or anything yet. she smooths out her trousers before tilting her head at you.

"hi els," you say. it's almost a whisper, god knows how the phone picked up the sound. "how was your flight?"

"nothing special," ellie says, "but the sunset was pretty amazing from the sky today. you would've loved it. even your daddy thought so."

"mm." warmth flushes over your body, and you shake your head. "don't say that..."

ellie simply chuckles before leaning closer—her legs are spread, elbow resting on her knee and palm holding her chin as she ponders the sight on her phone screen. she's drinking you in as much as she can with the dark and blurry camera quality on your phone.

"you look so sweet sitting like that" she comments. "it's nice. well, have you been a good girl?"

"yes." the rushed reply makes her smile. "i've been waiting real patiently for you to land, and i prepared just like you said, i got the toy and all the stuff for aftercare too."

ellie's smile grows bigger, genuinely, and she gives you an approving nod. "good girl. let me see you now, okay? show what i'm working with."

almost timidly, you open your legs just to show what's going on between them, but you know it won't be enough, so you already reach for the phone. "closer?"

"mhm."

you spread your legs a tad more, pulling the phone close enough for ellie to now see your glistening sex. you've been waiting patiently and thinking about this call all afternoon, so the sight is utterly salacious. it makes her delirious, because she's just been through a strenuous flight next to your own father, trying not to think about you the whole time.

slowly, you pass your fingers through the slicked folds and hold up a trembling hand to the camera, showing ellie how shiny and sticky they are from the slightest touch. she looks bored, but she's far from it.

"very messy, huh darlin'? look how needy you've got, all for me. is this all for me?"

"yeah," you reply. "only you, ellie."

"good. let me see your smile."

"ellie."

"let me see."

reluctantly, you pull the phone up to your face and allow the smallest of smiles to grace your soft lips. you should expect this now, she always asks, but it's always difficult.

"there we go. beautiful," ellie hums, then she's already requesting something else of you. "tits."

you drop the phone to your chest. a full view of neck, collarbone, and perky tits makes her light up. your nipples stand firm and if ellie were with you, she knows what she'd do; suck, bite, lick, squish them and slap them. she loves them.

"fuckin' wish i was with you babe," she mutters, eyes narrowing beneath dense, fluttering lashes. "i could touch you for hours."

"i wish you were here too," you say in that same old mousy voice. "i need you."

"i know baby, i know. let's see if i can't help you out a little now though, yeah? you want to get comfy for me? what do you say?"

ellie loves beggars. she'll encourage begging no matter what. use your words. what do you say? use your manners.

"can you please help me now?" you ask in response, setting the phone back down in its position from earlier. "can i please use the toy now?"

"of course," ellie says with a smile. "lay down."

"thank you, thank you, m'so needy," you ramble, propping up some pillows and laying down. you take the wand in your hands, looking to ellie for guidance. "which setting?"

"low." you sigh softly and click the toy on, hesitantly bringing the toy between your legs. the moment it buzzes over your clit, you gasp. you're starting to get better with it, you used to take it off by reflex every time. ellie's proud of the growth. "now you're going to be a good girl and be honest with me. when you get close, i want you to take the toy away, do you understand? and if i tell you to, then i want you to listen."

"ellie..." you whine softly, glancing at the phone. she still doesn't seem even remotely bothered or flustered by this whole event. she is watching you like it's just another show on tv. "i'm not good at that..."

"i know, that's why i'm teaching you how to handle it," ellie says sternly. her voice is now hard as stone and it makes you jolt. it makes you leak.

"okay." you roll the vibe back and forth over your engorged nub, a small string of moans falling out of your lips. they get breathier, along with your hips growing more restless, and that's an obvious tell of yours.

"turn it off," ellie orders. as soon as you heard her speak, without taking in any of the words themselves, you listened. your thumb instinctively presses the off button and you pull the toy away, only you're now left aching, letting out an irritable whine. "deep breaths. just breathe for a few moments and then we'll get back on track, okay?"

"yes, ellie."

"atta girl," ellie praises. "you're doing really well, you know that? i just want you to complain a little less next time."

you scoff discretely, instead trying to take deep breaths like ellie told you. and after a short minute or two, she tells you to continue. which you do, all too gladly.

this time you buck your hips against the wand, seeking more of the friction that the lowest setting isn't quite providing here. ellie just grins at the sight, now beginning to unbuckle her belt and unzip her pants.

she notices the sound of constant buzzing suddenly cease and flicks her gaze back to you with an amused glint in her eye. "too close, baby?"

"yeah.." this time, your chest feels heavier and your cunt flutters with so much need that you body moves with a mind of its own.

"deep breaths, you're fine," ellie reassures. "how cute? humping the fucking air."

"it's not funny," you whine with petulance. "i miss you—"

"i know, i miss you too. that is no excuse to act like a brat, okay?"

"ellie—"

"if you keep whining like that, you will not be putting that toy back on for a long time. be quiet."

you fall silent and only let out occasional whimpers, though your attention is quickly drawn back to the phone when you hear ellie letting out a soft grunt. her hand is nestled inside her pants and you can only imagine what she's doing. now, she has you even needier than before.

"fine, put it back on," ellie says, nodding at you. "medium this time."

she had no idea how worked up the sight of your cute, dumb squirming had made her until taking her hand down her pants. her fingers collect the honey-like wetness that's oozing out of her at this point, making slow circles around her clit.

"ah! ellie!" you moan, free hand squishing your tits like they're stress balls, this is suddenly so much more intense than it was before. all you wish for right now is her hand to hold, like you have so many times before.

"i know, i know," ellie mumbles. yet she's so focused on her own touch right now, keeping all of her groans and grunts low as she curls her long fingers into herself, just fucking wishing it was your pussy instead. your sweet sounds make it easy for her to pretend it is, but if she didn't already know how it feels when you're clamping down on her fingers, it would be easier to pretend. "fuck... take it off babe, off."

it would be so easy to ignore ellie right now. a few seconds more and you could be cumming. but something always compels you to be obedient to ellie. you've always been set on proving to her that you're a good girl just like your parents say you are. even if they have no idea the extent of it.

"ellie... please..." you plead with her, shiny eyes staring into the camera. you lazily watch the shape of her hand moving inside her pants and all you feel of it is jealousy. "i n-need it, i need to cum."

"i know," ellie mutters, "just wait. you can do that, i know you can."

it takes the most self restraint you've ever needed to not touch yourself. to keep the toy off, and to avoid even just rubbing your swollen clit for some relief. but it pays off; finally, ellie tells you what you want to hear.

"okay, baby, you can go again," she murmurs between quiet curses and moans. "and keep going, till you cum. fuck, i'm close too."

you need not another word, already turning the vibrator on once more and holding it over your cunt. the bed is soaked beneath you, it creaks as you grind your hips against the wand and muffle loud sounds with the palm of your hand.

"that's it, just like that," ellie encourages, "that's it, good girl, gonna cum? cum with me baby, c'mon... cum with me, cum..." she's breathless, soft, and weak.

it doesn't take long at all before your entire body tenses, your mouth falls open in silent scream. you ride out the high and rub the wand over and over your clit, overwhelmed by every little jolt it triggers and letting out the most perfect, pleasing sounds to ellie's ears.

watching you cum makes her gasp, cunt clenching around her fingers as she finally feels a wave of ecstasy crash over her.

it's silent enough to hear a pin drop for a good minute or so, the two of you panting.

"see," ellie starts, taking her hand out and wiping it on her pants, "i told you this would make you feel real good, didn't i?"

"mmm," you moan, opening your eyes to watch ellie. "yea.."

"you handled that so well, good job darlin'. and guess what? a certain someone told me he's planning a trip away with your momma in a week. you know what that means."

she will get to touch you for hours and hours, all alone.

🏷️ @abbysdollie @cowgirlvi @valeisaslut @eriiwaii @literallyhousemd @ellieshothousewife @piercedome @therealhexstrap @jinxedbambi @heyimrye @rhian88 @g4ys0n @yoosohh @marvelwomenarehot0

[jstor]

While differing greatly from traditional Tarocchi or tarot cards, this set earned its misleading name because of a few, unimportant similarities. Never a game, scholars generally agree that this set was an educational tool, used to visually describe a fifteenth-century philosophical model of the universe. It was believed that the universe was a ladder-like structure that began with the beggar and rose through the ranks of man, the muses, the liberal arts, the virtues, and the planets, until it finally reached the pinnacle, the dwelling place of God. Reflecting this order, these fifty engravings were divided into five groups of ten: the Conditions of Man; Apollo and the Muses; the Liberal Arts (with three added disciplines–Poetry, Philosophy, and Theology); the Virtues (with three personifications of cosmic principles called "genii"); and the Firmaments of the Universe.

View the full collection of E-series Tarocchi cards on JSTOR.

[bluemotifofsleep]

i’m not the one you want, babe.

roommate!toji fushiguro x reader

content: swearing, not beta read!

PS: please do not be fooled, gojo is one of my favourite characters of all time, i just have to be mean to him for a bit… for the plot…

chapter one: running away is easy, it’s the living that’s hard.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

gojo satoru is a self-righteous, condescending prick with a head so damn big you’re surprised it doesn’t just fucking blow up. you wish it would, sometimes.

and look, you’re not… petty, you just have a strong moral compass. there are certain things you’re willing to put up with, and things that you absolutely will not fucking stand for.

number one on that list of things is the so called “honoured one” pointing his stupid self-righteous finger in your face and telling you that you’re useless.

…well, he didn’t exactly say it like that. he had a much more roundabout, holier-than-thou way of saying things, but you’re good at reading between the lines.

because he’s your older brother, and you’ve been dealing with his bullshit for your whole damn life.

he just has this… way, of shitting on people without them realizing it. to the untrained eye it may look like praise, but when he stretches his face into that stupid smile and squints his blue eyes condescendingly, no amount of sugared words will stop you from seeing it as the big “fuck you” it really is.

truly, it pisses you off to no end. he gets to drag everyone else’s name through the dirt, while keeping his the same pristine white as his hair. he gets the fucking sixteen-tier, overdecorated, extravagant cake that is his cushy life, and he gets to eat it, too.

if the guy wasn’t your family and you hadn’t known him forever, you’d probably pray on his downfall more often. unfortunately you share blood and memories with him, so you only wish for his demise the normal, sibling amount

you’ve had lots of petty fights with him. hell, it was hard not to. as his younger sister you were always viewed as the softer, smaller, less significant gojo. living in his stupidly tall shadow, it was hard not to want to knock him down as many pegs as you could.

this fight, however, definitely took the cake. a full screaming match that ended in tears, with you packing your shit, and running the hell away.

yeah, maybe it was a bit dramatic, but being looked down upon your whole life because you were the little sister of the satoru gojo was fucking exhausting. you just needed space, that’s all. you needed time and room away from the gojo estate so you could breath, to stop feeling so damn trapped in your own lineage.

so, here you are, in a less-than-shabby apartment with a roommate you barely even know the name of.

toji fu…something? fujimoto? fukushima? whatever.

you probably should know more about the person you’re sharing a living space with, but in reality you barely see the back end of the guy heading out the front door. that’s all he does; come and go. in and out, all the time. you still don’t even know what he does for work. just that it’s something that has him leaving for days at a time, coming back looking slightly worse for wear, and then leaving again.

the main thing that drew you to this cheap ass place was… well, exactly that. it was cheap. that, and you could move in right away. the other apartments required a “background check” that left you hanging without somewhere to go, but toji obviously needed someone to pay the other half of the rent quick.

the description of the ad was “low rent, looking for a quiet roommate that pays bills on time” and while it may not have been the most attractive ad to most people, beggars can’t be choosers, right?

now toji fushi-whateverthefuck was honestly a pretty good roommate when compared to horror stories you’ve heard. he was fairly tidy save the occasional towel left on the ground and the messy ashtray on the balcony ledge. he never left any dirty dishes… and actually now that you think about it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen the guy cook before. you don’t really understand how he got enough sustenance to be that, well, beefy, for lack of a better word. somehow he fucking managed.

his size and prowess had scared you at first, because you’re not naive enough to think that you could ever take him in a fight. you’ve certainly seen enough true crime to see that it would fit his MO; young girl moves in, big scary man with the intimidating scar on his face likes stabbin’, and he buries her under the floorboards.

the only neighbours you have are the old, deaf woman to your right and the junkyard of a man (who you once saw smoking out of a crack pipe in the stairway) to the left who’s away for months at a time, so no one would hear you scream. then you’d be just another missing persons poster on a telephone pole people pass by without a glance, your image slowly being worn into the wood by the elements and eventually covered by other posters.

a fitting end for a runaway, probably.

while the possibility that he’s a murderer and he just really likes to take his time planning before he strikes is still there, he’s a lot nicer than you expected from his looks. which isn’t saying much, because really the gap between serial killer and the nice, deaf lady next door who bakes you bread sometimes is so large, he could fall anywhere in between.

yeah, nice isn’t really the right word for him. polite, maybe?

honestly, it’s more like a mutual agreement between a gazelle and a leopard by a watering hole; you stay on your side, and i’ll stay on mine.

from the almost predatory look of him, the wide set of his shoulders and the roguishly handsome way his face was put together, you expected something sinister to lurk beneath the surface. heck, men half as good-looking as him usually use their gift for evil, using their pretty privilege as a get-of-jail-free card. they think that because of their looks, they can behave however the fuck they want.

(a certain name comes to mind, something rhyming with dojo...)

so when you first eyed up six-foot-something of beefy muscle and the devilish face-card toji sported, you reasoned that something had to be horrifically wrong with him. as far as you could tell, he was single. and a man his age, with his wide set shoulders and wolfish smirk that could drop a woman’s panties from a mile away, wasn’t just single without something being clinically diagnosable about him.

at first, you were worried he’d be super macho and demand everything was done his way. maybe that your shower products were taking up too much space or your pink throw blanket you kept on the couch was too girly or that your music taste sucked.

and if he wasn’t mean… you were worried he’d fly too far past friendly and be some sort of creep, eyeing you up like a piece of meat and expecting something out of you just from proximity.

but he just…didn’t. he doesn’t do anything.

he gives you polite words if your paths happen to cross each other, wether that be in the kitchen, the balcony (where he smoked, and you enjoyed a cup of tea) or the couch to watch tv where he always offered the remote to you because he claimed he “didn’t give a shit”.

and yeah, most people would probably call that the bare minimum of what’s considered polite, but you found it intriguing.

sure he was gruff, rough around the edges, and when you’d first came to view the apartment he sat on the couch and watched them announce lotto numbers telling you to “knock yourself out” instead of giving you a proper tour, but the whole thing was attractive to you in some way.

your whole life, you were treated as a gojo. the daughter to two of the wealthiest people in the country and the sister of “the honoured one” or “the strongest”, or “the world’s most blue-eyed fuckhead” or whatever the hell the idiot went by these days. but with toji, you were just some girl (that he probably thought was an idiot for living in a banged up apartment with a possible serial killer) but really, that’s fine by you.

as interesting as toji was to you, you couldn’t really get a proper read on him. maybe that’s why you were so interested. he was like a dark pond that you couldn’t see the bottom of; you had no idea what lurked beneath, but his surface was incredibly alluring.

you wanted to dive right in.

~

you… are not a good cook.

growing up at the gojo estate, you never had to be. as embarrassing as it is to admit, you’ve always had people better trained than you to do it for you. which was all fine and dandy, when you still lived there.

but now…

“fuck!” the exclamation is yelled into the empty house as you burn yourself on the hot pan you were trying to use. key word: trying.

there’s smoke billowing out because the oil was…burning? how does that even happen? isn’t oil there so it doesn’t burn?

you were heating up the pan to try to cook an egg, because all you’ve been eating for the past couple of weeks is instant ramen and various raw vegetables easy for snacking on. you should probably give up on your culinary dreams though, because the pan looks as charred and depressing as you feel.

all you wanted was real food.

it was fine, at first, living off of “garbage food” as your family would call it. it was kind of refreshing to eat things you hadn’t been allowed to growing up, taking back some stolen part of your childhood when you craved junk food.

but now you were sick of it.

all you could think of was the good, home cooked meals you were fed regularly at the estate. sautéed vegetables, raw cuts of fatty tuna, seasoned riced, expensive and perfectly cooked wagyu beef… the thought of it all made your stomach growl as you tossed the soiled pan into the sink to soak, and grabbed some baby carrots from the fridge instead.

you absolutely would not admit you had made the wrong decision in leaving. and truly, you didn’t even think it either.

as depressing as your life had been for the past couple of weeks; spent with all your contacts on silent (because you just know satoru would blow the fuck out of your phone) and eating meals fit for a collage frat boy living off his last dime, your pride was more important.

you were proving a point. a point that put your livelihood on the line, your whole way of being. if you crumbled now you would just be giving up in battle of wills between you and your brother, something you were not willing to do for any cost.

you may have lost the genetic lottery by being born second, but you would not lose this.

you’ll stay eating baby carrots for breakfast and sitting on a shitty couch, watching shitty cable television (that your mother once told you would rot your brain out of your nose) to prove your point.

in the midst of a very shittily done action scene playing out on the grainy tv, a door opens from the hallway behind you.

toji must have snuck in last night again while you were sleeping. (you find yourself once again questioning what he does for work to have such a weird ass schedule, but then you think that you probably don’t want to know.)

to your surprise, instead of heading out onto the balcony to smoke like he usually does first thing, he plops down on the couch next to you, the springs squeaking under his weight.

despite sitting on the couch with him being a regular occurrence in your shared apartment, you still tense when he settles into the seat beside you. he takes up the space so easily, manspreading his giant thighs instantly and draping one of his beefy arms across the back of the couch. you try hard not to notice how your side of the couch is tilted towards him, his weight pulling you sideways, dragging you into his orbit.

when he rolls his head to the side to stare you down, you freeze like a deer trying to camouflage into a forest background, hoping to not get caught by the apex predator stalking it. his eyes are like two headlights, digging into your primal instinct to freeze.

“mornin’.” it’s just one word, barely a greeting, but the sleep-induced gravel in his voice drags across your skin anyways, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“good morning.” you’ll play this feeling inside of you off for as long as you have to, until you stop feeling it. you pop another carrot into your mouth to stop from saying anything else.

he leans over you, staring into the bowl that harbours your poor excuse for a breakfast and twists his face up in disgust.

“you’re going to turn orange if you keep eating carrots for every meal. what are you, a damn bunny?”

you snort. “that’s just a myth, you know.”

he smirks, and just like every other time he does, it twists something in your stomach up into a knot.

“nah,” his expression turns serious for a second, as he scrutinizes your rapidly heating face. “in fact, i think it’s happening already.”

“what?!” you scramble out of the sunken-in couch, running to check yourself in the bathroom mirror. when you do, you scowl and yell out a “jerk!” as toji cackles nefariously from the living room.

you’re not orange, in the slightest. in fact, your face is bright red.

toji fushiguro was polite in most ways, but he loved to tease.

deciding you’ve had enough teasing for one day, you head back to your room instead of returning to the couch.

~

that night, the power in the apartment goes out.

a transformer had exploded up the street, causing a large outage across the neighbourhood. the second the loud boom! had hit and the lights flickered and then vanished all together, fear had gripped you tightly.

you’re not… scared of the dark, per say. it’s just being alone, alone with your thoughts, sitting in a dark room that scares you.

your phone was pretty much useless without wifi, so you scrambled for something, anything to do to keep your mind busy, to keep from feeling so terribly alone.

~

you feel… stupid. silly, even, like a child that had a nightmare seeking comfort from a grown up.

you’re standing outside of toji’s door, with your hand raised, but no courage to knock.

it was stupid. you were being stupid. it’s just the dark, you’ll be fine. the power should be on in a couple of hours. you’ll survive, right?

just as you’re about to turn and retreat back to your room, toji’s door opens and you’re suddenly face to face (face to chest?) with him.

“what is it? you’ve been standing outside my door for the past five minutes like a little creep.” the words would sound angry to anyone else, but you’ve spent enough time around him to know that’s just how he speaks.

it’s one of the things that draws you to him, how he never feels the need to sweeten his words. he doesn’t limit himself with things like politeness and niceties, he just says what he needs to say.

right now though, you would appreciate some decorum.

“i um… wanted to know… sorry, it’s stupid. i’ll leave you alone.” but as you turn to leave, he heaves a giant sigh like he’s pained.

“stop whining like a baby and say what you want.”

jesus… so no decorum, then.

“…do you want to play uno with me?”

~

the cards look comically small in his large hands…

you were both in the living room, using the coffee table and some candles to play the riveting, timeless game that is uno. it was one of the few things that you had brought with you from home, distant memories of playing with satoru as a kid and getting in physical fights over it flickering across your mind.

the thoughts made your chest ache, but that’s why you’re here with toji, right? to stop thinking about it so damn much.

“pick up four, and i change the colour to… blue.” toji growls at your words, a scowl painting his features periodically lit up by candle light. he picks up four cards from the deck painfully slow, making a deal out of each one and pouting like a baby.

you hadn’t expected him to be so… competitive.

honestly, you hadn’t expected him to say yes in the first place. maybe a laugh in your face proceeded by his door slamming or even just a simple look of disgust, not the grumbled “okay” that he gave you as he followed you to the living room.

it was… weird, doing something so mundane with him.

toji looked like a creature built to kill. there was something brutal and dangerous about the way he carried himself, the words he spoke and the voice he spoke them in.

it felt like using a loaded handgun as a spoon for your cereal.

you giggle at the thought, but then you’re staring down the barrel of the actual handgun that is toji fushiguro’s glare.

“you ain’t gonna be laughing for long, brat.” and then in a jaw dropping display of utter brutality, he puts down three of his gathered pickup-four cards and two pickup-twos, leaving him with nothing in his hand. how was that even possible?

“you jerk! i only had two cards left.” you whine and toss your cards into the pile on the table.

“yeah, that’s what happens when you mess with me, kid.” he puts his recently emptied hands behind his head, smirking down at you like someone who had just one at poker and took home the largest pot ever, not a meek game of uno.

truthfully, you’re uninterested in wining or losing. his company was so alluring to you, that it was entertainment in itself. like watching a leopard at the zoo, relaxed in his own element. his broad shoulders melting into a bulging bicep stretched over his head, his toned chest peeking through his shirt-

“so,” fuck. you jump like you’ve been caught ogling him, poking the glass of his enclosure when there were clearly signs not to. “i’ve been meaning to ask, what are you running away from, kid?”

what?

you gape at him like a fish trying to breath air, completely dumbfounded by his question. he couldn’t mean-

“you think i’m stupid or somethin’?” he’s leaning over the table now, the leopard tapping back at the glass that separated you. you feel hunted.

“cute little rich girl gets her panties in a twist, stomps her feet, and runs away from home, ive seen it all before. m’just surprised you’ve lasted this long, honestly.”

you feel like a bug that’s been pinned to a cork board for examination, spread out and exposed. your inner turmoil and darkest guilts have been torn out of you to lay bleeding and squirming on the coffee table.

“how the hell did you figure that out?” your words are borderline suspicious, borderline accusing.

if he was some kind of freak, you were going to make a break for the front door. though you’ll have to slip right by his large arm span to do that, so you’ll have to be quick about it-

he laughs like he’s amused by the clear discomfort on your face.

“relax. i just pay attention, is all.” he’s got an easy smirk on his face, and he doesn’t look nefarious in any way, so you relax your shoulders a bit.

“you don’t have a job, and yet all of your shit is fancy. you’re always bringing home groceries that you don’t know how to cook properly, expensive crap with the word organic pasted all over it, so you clearly have expensive taste, and yet you picked one of the shittiest apartments on the market. most definitely so you could move in right away, right?”

wow. you feel sort of bad for underestimating his observation skills. this whole time you felt like you were spectating him, but clearly it was the other way around.

he leans in again, his easy smirk and sea green eyes lit up by the candlelight, making him look almost supernaturally pretty.

“so you’re running, but from what?”

suddenly, all the tension you’ve been carrying spills out of you like water from a squeezed sponge. you let out a sigh that collapses your chest, your whole body sinking with it.

~

[kvetchlandia]

William S Burroughs Allen Ginsberg on the Roof of His Apartment, E. 7th St, East Village, New York City 1953

Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy! The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy! Everything is holy! everybody’s holy! everywhere is holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman’s an angel! The bum’s as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy as you my soul are holy! The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy! Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cassady holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars holy the hideous human angels! Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas! Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace peyote pipes & drums! Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets! Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the middleclass! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles! Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria & Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow Holy Istanbul! Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch! Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucinations holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss! Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours! bodies! suffering! magnanimity! Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!

-- Allen Ginsberg, "Footnote to Howl" Berkeley, 1955

[fuctacles]

Witch Hunt

for @steddie-spooktober "witch" & @stevieweek "i don't know about this one..." prompt which i've altered quite a bit but used it twice so it kind of evens out, right???

E | 2568 | transfem!Steve (goes by Eve), witch!Steve, demon!Eddie, medieval fantasy, some arson and murder boyfriend vibes, magical srs, possible continuation, im sorry for all the lore | Ao3 | extra more spooktober: "would you please stop trying to scare them?"

Eddie hated his job. Not only the human realm was much colder than Hell, but also, the Deal didn't always work. The success rate has been increasing each time, but it still pissed him off when nothing happened after he's been freezing his balls off for hours. He was starting to think all his fur was just decorative. 

When he had arrived at Heimdall's, the guy threw him a skimpy tunic that barely covered his privates. 

"Is this the only one you have? You can see my whole dick and balls in it," Eddie had complained, but beggars can't be choosers and all that. 

He wraps the fabric tighter around himself when the next gust of air moves clouds away from the moon, making the pile of debris in the clearing visible. Time passes and Eddie waits impatiently, tapping his hooves against the ground, and idly picking stray grass blades from his tail. It seems like the pile moves a couple of times, but it's just the wind disturbing it. 

A distant clock tower strikes midnight, and finally, the ash pile moves and keeps on moving, until a hand emerges. Eddie straightens up, his tail twitching in interest. 

The ashes start breathing, the charred remains get knocked down and a coughing fit raises a dark cloud into the air. She'll be spitting soot for hours, but at least she's up now, another success for the statistics. 

He decides to take pity on the poor girl and steps away from the fence he's been perched on, making room for his wings. With two good swats, the dirt is gone, leaving a slightly dirty, very naked woman in the middle of a charred circle. 

He raises his eyebrows. 

"These fucking perverts burnt you naked?"

She finally notices his presence, her red-rimmed eyes blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and stands up on shaky legs, still low on energy after her resurrection, barely maintaining her balance. Suddenly, Eddie doesn't seem to matter anymore, as her hands fly to her chest. 

"What...?" she murmurs to herself.

Eddie tilts his head, watching the human with curiosity. Usually, the arrival of a demon gets a bigger fanfare, he's almost insulted, but he waits patiently. He already did for so long, and now he has something pretty to lay his eyes on for once. Witches usually came with ugly meat sacks, even after their resurrection. 

"Where the fuck is my dick?!"

Ah, yes, that would explain it. The naked thing, too.

"Do you want it back?" Eddie asks because he's a demon with manners. 

"No!" she protests immediately, eyes snapping up to him from observing her crotch. "No," she adds softer. "I like it like that." Her hand reaches down to inspect her new parts, so Eddie takes it upon himself to swat it away with his tail.

"Hey!" 

He tsks, his long tongue slipping out to flick in a warning. 

"Let's not put any more dirt in your holes, okay?" he berates her. Regretfully, he shrugs off the tunic he's been wearing and throws it at the girl. "For your modesty, m'lady." 

She glowers at him but slips it over her head anyway. What was small for the demon, doesn't do much more for a human, especially not one with the curves that she has. She wrinkles her nose. 

"Is there even a point? You can see my whole—"

Eddie slaps her hand preemptively. 

"Hey! I wasn't even touching it!" 

"Your hand was too close."

"No, it wasn't!" 

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

"Let's clean you up and then you can touch it all you want. You have a river in this ditch?" he asks, nose twitching in the air. He turns at the same time the witch points her hand. 

"To the left of the village." 

Eddie's eyes stray to the cluster of houses she seems determined not to look at.

"Do you have anyone left there?" he asks curiously.

"Not anymore," she scoffs, taking off towards the river. 

Eddie has to follow her, he can't risk losing a witch, but an urge flares inside of him that he has to let loose. He claps his hands together and starts rubbing, sparks flying until a fire forms in his palm. He bounces it from one hand to another and nuzzles it with his finger, always happy to work with the little guys. When he feels the witch is watching him, he refocuses and whispers to it:

"Go, little one. Do your worst."

The flame flies off his palm, aided by a push from Eddie's phantom wings. 

She doesn't ask, only eyes him curiously, but he pushes gently on her back to prompt her into walking along his side. 

"It's gonna take a while," he says without any other explanation. 

The walk isn't long, and soon she's handing over the tunic and dipping into the lazily flowing water, dark like ink but glittering with the reflection of stars above. The night sky is probably the only thing Eddie misses in the Underworld. 

He sits on the plush grass, observing as the witch dunks under the surface and rubs her skin until it turns pink. It still contrasts with the water like it's made of the finest porcelain. 

"I guess you're clean enough to explore now," he says as her movements slow down like she's already contemplating it. She must be, he can taste her curiosity from his spot on the river bank.

"You're gonna sit there and watch?" she glowers at him.

"Of course," he answers matter-of-factly. "I'm a demon."

She huffs, but this time it sounds more amused. Her hand travels down her body.

"What's your name, witch?" Eddie asks, resting his chin on his hand. 

"Stev—" she hesitates. 

"Eve?" he picks up curiously. That would be hilarious. 

She kind of nods, kind of shakes her head. 

"I was Steven, then I went by Stevonne, but..."

"That's okay, take your time," Eddie reassures her. "This is your Rebirth, you can pick any name you like."

She hums, and he can see her hand making slow, circling movements under the water. 

"I like Eve," she admits.

"Yeah?" Eddie perks up with a smile. "You can call me Eddie. It's nice to make your acquaintance, Eve."

She smiles and opens her mouth to say something, but her attention is pulled somewhere above Eddie's shoulder. The water starts glowing orange. 

"Looks like the little guy is having fun," he hums, not looking around. The glow of fire looks better on Eve's skin anyway. 

The river carries distant cries for help, a reminder that it's not just a big, pretty bonfire. 

"Don't worry, he'll get them all," he says.

"I'm not worried," she assures quickly. 

Eve's fixated on the fire consuming her village, her eyes full of awe and the reflection of flames. She's glowing in the now orange water and she looks gorgeous reflecting Eddie's carnage like that. She'll look breathtaking among hellfire. 

"Maybe we could spare some," he wonders out loud with a lazy smile. She looks back at him. "So we can hunt them down later. The way they hunt my new favorite witch."

She smiles, mean and thrilled. He'll have to fight fang and claw to keep her.

"Maybe we could." 

They look at each other for a long while, until his eyes dip. 

"You done?" Eddie looks pointedly at her stilled hand. She sighs with frustration. 

"It's way different from this angle," she complains. 

Eddie laughs out loud, the sound echoed by the collapsing church that used to tower over the townsfolk. 

"Need a hand?" he offers, rolling his eyes when she eyes his claws with distrust. He flicks out his tongue instead. "Need a tongue?" 

Eve's totally on board for that, clambering out of the water, her hazelnut hair dripping over her curves. The wet shine on her skin reflects the dancing flames and Eddie would be in love if he knew how to.

"Weren't you appalled that I was watching you just seconds ago?" he laughs at her, a little bit mean, but he already knows she can take it. 

"Turns out I like that," she shrugs without shame, making Eddie's smile grow. The sight of his sharp teeth doesn't deter her either. In an instant, he has a lap full of a human, or at least as much of one there was left in Eve. He has her tits right in his face and he wouldn't be a demon if he didn't give them a taste, licking the river water off her skin. She sighs, fingers tangling in his unruly mane of hair, seeking purchase in his horns. He groans when she grabs them, and wraps his arms around her, pressing into her skin so he can flip them around, and lay her down in the bed of grass. 

Her yelp turns into a delighted laugh and Eddie trembles with the sound. They don't make witches like that anymore. Free and open to the joys of life, ready to frolic and mingle with the things Unknown. Christianity made it so hard for demons and fae to get laid. 

He presses hot kisses down her torso, spends extra time sucking around her navel, then nibbling around her mound, hiking her thighs higher and higher, nosing at the crease there, inhaling her scent, until he gets to his destination. It takes two, three expert licks for Eve to lock her legs around him and scream into the night. 

Eddie gently laps up around her hole, her juices too precious to let fall on the grass below. Her breath hitches and she trembles but doesn't move away. 

"Do you want more?" he asks, black eyes searching for an answer. 

Her eyes are still full of fire.

"Yes."

So he gives her one more, then three, until he loses count and his tongue is numb and Eve's but a puddle of human-shaped limbs underneath him. When he laps at her entrance, drunk himself on her smell and taste, she spreads her legs invitingly, eyes blown and impossibly wide, sparkling with flames. 

They stare into each other's dark eyes as he slithers his tongue inside. He rubs against her walls, searching for her face for a reaction, but she's too out of it for anything more than an involuntary twitch of muscles. However, when he moves away, she seems disappointed. He crawls up her body to properly look at her face, but before he can say anything, she lurches forward.

Kissing is not something he's used to in such circumstances, but he indulges anyway, letting her tongue inspect the sharp points of his teeth, and maneuver his hand on her breast. He squeezes, laps, and sucks, letting himself get lost in this new dance. 

"You know," he says when she breaks away to restore oxygen. "I don't do that outside of sealing a deal," he admits.

Eve blinks at him owlishly. 

"You don't kiss just for fun? Aren't you a demon?"

Eddie barks out a laugh. 

"I guess kissing is too tame for our tastes." 

"What's your taste?" she asks, curiosity radiating off of her in hot waves. 

He hums, caressing her side.

"Insane witches, apparently."

"What do you do with them?" she presses on, her leg moving dangerously high up his body, the coarse hair of his thighs not enough to deter her.

"Well, personally..." Eddie likes to play with his food, a habit he couldn't shake since his childhood, so he rolls away from Eve to lie on his side instead. To placate her, he starts playing with the hair that grow low on her belly. "I collect the resurrected witches and show them around. You'll get a tour of Hell and any other realms you wish to see, and then I'll help you settle wherever you feel like."

With every word, the pout on her face only grows. 

"You're not keeping me?" she asks, playing up the whine in her voice, but he knows there are genuine feelings behind it. 

"Witches aren't meant to be tied down," he explains apologetically. "They're free spirits abusing the laws of reality." He reaches for her hand to press a kiss against her fingers. "It's a power best wielded in solitude."

She pries her hand away and sits up.

"Why would I want the power if I can't share it? Don't witches have like... familiars? Or something?"

Eddie frowns.

"A witch of your power doesn't need one. They're meant to amplify and aid spells, and you're pretty much on the same level as a common demon."

"Are you a common demon?"

"Yes," he nods. 

"So we can't make a deal?" she presses on. 

His frown deepens. 

"Why would you want a deal with someone equal in power? Deals are made between a master and a servant."

"But is it not possible? Can't I have an equal by my side? A partner in crime?"

Maybe he should backtrack on her being his favorite. She's asking too many questions, ones he's not used to from a freshly reborn witch. He sighs. 

"Technically you can, but it's an exclusive deal. You're tied for eternity, you belong to each other. It's not a common practice," he says, playing off what he's been told and overheard. "Master-servant contracts have an expiration date and are easier to break. I'm not sure a deal like that could even be broken."

Eve wraps her hands around her knees, processing the information. 

"So I could tie a demon, or an equally powerful being, to myself for all eternity?" 

Somehow, Eddie doesn't like the idea of Eve making a deal like that with a random demon. He nods, though.

"Yes."

"Let's say I'd want to do that with you, right now. How would that look?" she asks curiously. 

He thinks about it, imagines it, and it pains him deep into his core. 

"A simple deal is sealed with a kiss or a blood pact. A deal between equals requires an intercourse."

"Huh."

The idea doesn't seem appalling to her, which doesn't surprise him at this point. He can feel her eyes sliding down his body.

"You're not going to find my dick like that," he says with amusement. 

She huffs but doesn't budge, searching his gaze instead. 

"Wouldn't you want to make me yours? And you mine?"

Eddie considers it. 

"I never thought about it before," he admits. "Is that something you'd want?"

She lays back on the grass with a sigh. 

"I'm just tired of being alone. Of nobody staying. You're the nicest person I've met in years, and you're not even human." He laughs at that, and she turns towards him with a smile. "You burnt a village for me." She frowns. "Unless you do that for all the witches."

Eddie quickly shakes his head. Too quickly.

"Only the most mistreated ones," he admits. 

"Is it a pity thing, then?"

"No," he protests again. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

Eve smiles. 

"Thank you."

He smiles back, and when he leans down, she meets him for a lazy kiss. 

"Would you make me yours?" she asks when they part and the offer sounds alarmingly tempting. 

"You should meet other demons before making a commitment like that," he says, and she rolls her eyes. Then, his ears twitch as he finds the perfect distraction for them both. 

"You ready to hunt?" he smiles down at her, wide and dangerous. "Someone escaped the fire."

ko-fi

[grimrevolution]

i'm seeing this a lot lately, especially on this post here, so -

why does a rook laidir not talk openly about their time as a slave?

there are a few reasons, so i'm going to go over rook as a character as well as what it would mean for the narrative of veilguard and struggles from a game play perspective.

i will not be going into a comparison to real-life stories of survivors, because this is not the post for that nor will any i make in the future if i continue to talk about this topic. if you would like to read actual stories of survivors, how they were impacted, and their own struggles before and after liberation, you can read them here on end slavery now, or in books like long way gone by ishmael beah and a crime so monstrous by e. benjamin skinner.

Rook at the very base of their character has adopted the mindset of 'it's not about me', which is a fascinating choice for an rpg character. no matter if you play a student of the mourn watch, a volunteer for the veilguard, a abolitionist of the shadow dragons - the idea is always the same. rook is, at their core, always selflessly and radically kind. they can give away all their money to the beggars of treviso and minrathous. they are devastated by the wreckage of the city they didn't save so much that it sits in a place of honor next to wiesshaupt in the regret prison.

what this means is that rook is a listener, not a talker. they are a yapper, of course, by which i mean that when they say something unprompted it tends to be about the environment (the hand puns are pretty legendary at this point) or about others (trying to awkwardly ask about catarina while everyone is uncomfortable in the ossuary elevator).

this serves two purposes. 1) we get to know more about the base of the character we're playing. the first portion of the game has already shown that rook is kind, the rest of the game just continues that. 2) when an rpg character speaks up about their history, it means that you, the player, get to headcanon less. everything that rook says about their past is simple, basic facts. they came from x country. they were taken in by y. some brush deeper things - thorne and mercar were adopted, laidir used to steal, and ingellvar lived on the streets for a while. these are little things and easily ignored for those who have a set character in mind and those who want to adapt those kinds of tidbits into their story.

see, the more a character talks about their past in game, the less you the player get to say. if laidir said they spent 5 amount of years as a slave in tevinter, it changes a lot than just a line about how they 'learned how to survive as a tevinter galley slave'. in the second line, you the player get to decide how long that was for. was it years? was it a couple grueling months? are they lying and didn't serve time at all?

my laidir is different from that person's laidir and their laidir is different than another person's. that's the whole point of an rpg. you have the same base, but how your perceive your character could change drastically just with a few seconds of canon dialogue.

now, the argument that generally comes up with dragon age - and veilguard in particular - is that your past actions had an effect on future games. except... did they really? no matter if the warden is alive or dead, they are still absent from ferelden in dai. no matter what request the warden makes of king alistair, nothing is ever actually done. abolish the mages? politics are involved. give the elves land? politics are involved. in order to not spend fifteen years in development hell to recreate every single person's little scenario that would have world-wide implications - everything is limited to codexes and cameos.

this kind of base-line writing is why rook isn't in the book club. what if my rook doesn't like books? what if that person's rook can't read? on and on and on. it is better for game developers to provide a place to explore imaginatively than to make something strictly canon for all. does your rook like to cook? nothing is saying that they can't do that. in fact, the companions are often shown trying to do things to take the weight off rook's shoulders. lucanis and bellara cook because rook is exhausted every day - that's an easy headcanon. but also maybe there's days where rook does cook for people. that's not disrupted by canon either.

you can imagine whatever you want because that is the point. it was not out of maliciousness or laziness. in fact, these types of narratives are extraordinarily difficult to write.

which is why laidir doesn't talk about slavery. the moment they do, everyone who doesn't think of their laidir as a slave is going to become frustrated. in fact, a whole host of people flooded the lord of fortune tag when the game first came out to bitch about that fact in particular. some even created a new character in a new faction because one single line that never comes up again pissed them off so much that they didn't want to keep playing that character. and that's their right, because this is an rpg and they have the ability to make the type of rook - not character, but rook - that they want.

you have the ability to create, to headcanon, to fulfill the gaps with your imagination. Everything is possible because nothing is fully cemented as canon. all the game does is enable you.

oh, and since people showed interest in the book list:

a promise to nadia by zana muhsen

sold also by zana muhsen

i am not your slave: a memoir by tupa tjipombo

[rachetmath]

Fuck it we going to make this short. Jaune is the Odyessus of RWBY. 

Don’t believe it. Let’s do this.

Exhibit A: Pyrrha and Athena

Both are smart. Have won tournaments. Both wield a spear and a shield as primary weapons. They both have taught someone how to fight. Even giving praise to them sometimes. Even though Atheana is immortal it still doesn’t change their similarities. 

Exhibit B: Jaune and Odyessus

Both characters do not fight well. They are cunning. They will do whatever it takes to win. Even through underhanded tactics. And they are both hated by the world. Don’t believe me.

Exhibit C

Odysseus and Jaune were trapped on an island for years. Bedding outside forces to escape.

Exhibit D

Both lost friends and allies due to the said allies not listening to them or doing their own thing. 

Oh and those underhanded tactics;

Exhibit E

Jaune cheated into Beacon despite not nearly being on anyone's level. Then we have Cinder who he…

Yeah, we know he is willing to kill this woman by any means.

Or how was willing to steal from the Atlas military?

Despite the holes in the plan it still worked out in the end.

Then when Jaune, Ren, and Yang were captured, Jaune used the war to go get Oscar and when the dust settled they got away.

And though it hurt him he still killed Penny and more lives were saved for it.

And using the leaves to separate the Cat from Neo.

Then Odysseus;

 Using Moly to fight Circe

Uses wine on Cyclops to put it to sleep and stabs its eye. 

Sacrificing his crew to save himself and others.

And finally, dress as a beggar to kill Penelope’s suitors.

And this four. Not counting the other things he’s done to win.

My point? Trust me, when I say, Jaune is the smartest character in RWBY. He is the MVP of the show. The biggest factor. He is the Oddyssus of the show.

Also, if there is going to be volume ten involving Jaune, then Gillian, Jax, and probably Tyrian are dead. Gillian’s semblance is to drain aura away from her opponents. She’s also cunning, and if she is willing to pull any tactic, she will make her dreams come true by all means. Jaune, who has amplification and has been fighting for years, not only counters her semblance but is equally as devious as her.

And then Jax's semblance involves him taking your will- Dominating your soul through suggestion in the mind. Jaune who already survived the Ever After, is one place that messes with your subconscious the most.  Has more experience at using a sword. And has a stronger will than Jax does.

And Tyrian…. Yeah, we all know I want a Jaune vs Tyrian fight. Let’s not be surprised. 

I’m not saying the fight will be easy… but I’m just saying… Jaune got it.

[ireallyamabear]

just thinking how much stuff we're gonna get in andor s2, how will they ever fit it all in the season??? leida wedding, kino return arc, meeting and freeing k2, re-encountering melshi, 30 minute melshian sex scene, krennic e-beggar arc, the Ghorman massacre, Luthen's death probably, syril simp hour, setting up Yavin base, Bix's blurry wife, probably a Wilmon-getting-inducted-into-the-rebellion plot, Velcinta kiss, multiple deaths, Velcinta kiss 2, catching up with the Ferrix people. how will they make it work???

[thecousinsdangereux]

i just recently discovered your soulmate au and i loves it so much. so incredibly intriguing and well written and damn is it hot 🔥 thanks so much for sharing with us. in your mind, does it have a happy ending for them?

also wanted to ask if you'll be checking in to see the big warrior nun announcement coming tomorrow?

Ahhhh thank you! This ask is kind of tragic now given how everything with Warrior Nun ended up going, but I thought I'd use it as a way to share my ideas for the rest of a beggar in the morning, if anyone is interested in learning how it was going to go. Long story short, it was going to have a happy ending. :)

Here's a full outline for what I had in mind for the second half of the fic. Under the cut because it's very detailed in the parts that I'd started writing. Also in case anyone cares about spoilers? At the moment, I don't plan on finishing this fic, but I do plan on returning to writing in general, so guess there's a non-zero chance that I could come back to it. Stranger things have happened.

Beatrice keeps looking for the recipient of the Letter she's been trying to deliver and starts taking trips out into the countryside. She takes Ava's advice and takes to enjoying the journey - stopping into small cafes for lunch rather than eating in the car, taking the long way when it means she can enjoy a new view, etc.

During one of these side quests, she's told about a man who lives way off in the middle of nowhere who has the last name of Reis (the last name of the Letter recipient: Lara Reis), and she tracks him down. He had a sister who had a child with someone who was not her Match. I wanted to go more into what this looks like (and how the church is still anti-abortion in this world, because they think this could potentially ruin a future match, cue eye-roll) but in this case, the woman was basically run out of town. The man directs Beatrice to an orphanage where the child was raised.

This trail eventually goes cold because the orphanage has no records of the girl. They only know she left when she became of age.

The end of chapter six is basically Beatrice being frustrated and taking some 'advice' from Lilith to find someone to fuck hfkjshlk so she goes to the bar and ohhh nooo Ava is working that night, filling in for someone. Ava gets jealous, Bea does some shots, and it's basically a rehash of the lemon drop scene from the show, but hornier. Eventually, they make out, and decide to be friends with benefits.

Chapter 7 was honestly just going to be porn. lol. It's actually some of the first stuff I wrote for this fic - just a page of porn. Beggar came out of a Secret Santa fic exchange, and my friend Alex asked for lots of sex and a soulmate au. So... Chapter 7 was the payoff (part 2). Here's a few disjointed scenes, in case anyone is interested in reading some unedited very E-rated stuff.

A few months go by and all the nuns visit Beatrice for her bday and they're like huh so what's going on here and Beatrice has to pretend that it's not that serious with Ava (lol). I also wanted to do a conversation between Shannon and Beatrice where Shannon talks about the whole Mary thing and loving someone against the will of god (or at the very least, in the very gray areas).

The end of chapter seven is Ava finally talking about her past, which is that Ava doesn't remember hers. She woke up in a hospital without her memories and then spent the next decade traveling around trying to find something that felt like home.

In chapter 8, a lot of time passes, and the fucking continues. Beatrice is kind of losing it, poor girl.

I hadn't exactly decided what was going to happen next, but Ava was going to overstep in some way (or in some perceived way) and Beatrice was going to panic. Either Beatrice was going to have a brief thought about being in love, they were going to have reallyyyy soft sex, or something like that, but either way, Beatrice was going to have to admit she has deeper feelings for Ava than what's allowed allowed, so she goes back to Spain and ignores Ava's texts/calls/etc.

Eventually she realizes she owes Ava closure. She comes back and kind of explains why she's reacted the way she has. She gets more into why she joined the church and it's not for God or the Church itself, but because she does genuinely believe that love itself is holy. She admits she's falling in love with Ava, but she can't break her vows. She believes giving into her feelings would be putting herself above the whole history of love... the sanctity of the entire universe... and to be that selfish would be monstrous.

There's a callback to their early game of three questions, and how Ava still owes Beatrice one answer. Beatrice nearly asks if Ava loves her, but pulls back because she's scared of the answer. They basically break up, but Ava tells Bea to let her know when she's ready to ask her last question.

Beatrice takes it HARD. She buries herself in her work and starts visiting hospitals in various towns. She finds a Spanish doctor and he recognizes the number (or rather, the system behind the number) that is on Letter Beatrice is still trying to deliver. He tells Beatrice she's not looking for a hospital in Portugal, but rather in Spain - one in a small town in Andalusia. He mentions a patient who was in a coma, who woke up without her memories.

At this point, Beatrice obviously knows and she flies to Spain in daze. She visits the hospital, gives them the number, and asks for the name of the patient. When they'd brought the girl in, no one knew where she came from, she didn't have an ID, memories, etc. Nothing except for an old receipt from a restaurant in Portugal. ("Beatrice braces herself for what she already knows, but doesn't want to face.") The nurse at the hospital tells her they used a generic Portuguese name for the girl and it stuck: Ava Silva.

Beatrice visits Cat's Cradle because what else is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to deliver this Letter to Ava, who she's obviously in love with. She talks with Mary and we get the other side of the whole Mary/Shannon thing, and Mary is kind of like, okay, the Letters matter but they don't Matter. Beatrice asks Mary what she would do if she got a Letter (since Mary isn't a nun and could get one, but Shannon never could) and Mary basically says she would throw it away without opening it because she wouldn't want to give Shannon a reason to go self-sacrificial.

Of course, Beatrice doesn't really think this is her call to make. She's going to deliver Ava's Letter. There's this whole scene of her very dramatically and angstily getting ready for the delivery in the Official White Habit, then walking through the town she's come to associate so completely with Ava. And chapter 9 ends.

When Beatrice walks through the doors of the bar, Ava looks up, but doesn't seem surprised, even says 'oh, finally', which is pretty much the last thing that Beatrice expected, but then again, maybe it should have been the first, because Ava is always surprising her, and shouldn't she expect it by now? She asks Ava if she'd known that she was the person Beatrice had been trying to deliver to all along and Ava looks confused at this, like she hadn't considered that at all. "It's not that. I just knew my Letter would be coming because I'd already met you."

Beatrice is like, no no no. That's not how this works. It can't be me. I've been carrying this Letter with me this whole time - before I met you - and the Letters are only sent to a person when they've met their soulmate. And obviously, Beatrice is a nun and can't have a soulmate, etc. etc.

And then Ava says something like this: “Maybe every once in a while, God -- or the universe or whatever it is -- knows that it’ll be really hard to make two people meet organically, so it fudges the rules a little bit. Makes one girl a nun, makes another one hard to find, and sets up the dominos really early on."

And when Beatrice says she's being ridiculous/it's impossible, she says, "I know what’s in that letter. It’s you. I don’t need to open it to know it's you." and "Maybe it’s like some people say and god arranged it all. Fine. Then god chose me for you. Simple. He made me in this exact way, down to my hands and toes and whatever, so that I was perfect for his favorite creation in all of the universe. Because that has to be you."

And: "Or maybe it’s like what those other people say. You know - the past lives reincarnation stuff. Fine, then in our first lives we fell in love and then I found you in the second and third and the five hundredth. I found you and I picked you and I wanted you every time. Or okay, fine, maybe it’s what the the pseudo science people say. Even if those guys are right, I still know. It’s you because at the very start of the universe - at the very beginning of everything - we were the first two bits of something. The first two tiny little sparks. One of those was you and one of them was me. And even when we split off into a million trillion billion infinite pieces, the core of one was you. And the other one was me."

And: "In every religion or in any theory, the world exists so that I can find you again, and the world will do whatever it takes - bend the rules in whatever way - to make sure that at the exact right time, we would meet. And maybe it wasn’t perfect - maybe it was stupid hard for us to get to this point - maybe there was an easier way to make it happen - but I don’t care. Because it worked and I found you and I fell in love with you and I would do anything for that. So yeah. This Letter is telling me that I’m for you. That’s easy. It’s not faith. It’s just a fact.

And: "Besides, whatever’s on that paper? It’s going to be you. If it’s a picture of a butterfly, then it’s going to be you because of that time we went to the dam and one landed on your hand and you said “isn’t the world beautiful?” and that’s when I knew I loved you for the very first time. If it’s the notes to the first bar in At Last, then it’s you, because we used to play it all the time in the bar and I always thought it was fucking stupid to think you'd know like that right away, before everything, but it was the song that played in my head anyways when you walked in the bar that first night. There she is, I sort of thought, a dream that I can speak to."

"It could be any single word or phrase or letter and it would be you, because I love you and I love you so much I see you in every part of this entire world. I love you and I want to keep you with me always, and so you’re always there in my thoughts, slipping over and into everything else and I love it. It makes me love everything I see a little bit more, because it reminds me of you. It makes the world more beautiful."

"So, no offense, but I don't really give a fuck about the Letter. I already know it's going to be you. But I think you need to see it. So you know you’re not as selfish as you think you are."

And Beatrice admits that she wants to be with Ava anyways. Even if it makes her selfish. (Even if it makes her heretical.) Love is holy and what she feels for Ava is holy too, even if it's a sort of holy no one else will ever understand.

I went back and forth about whether they actually SHOULD open the Letter. lol. But I think I eventually settled on that they should, and that when Ava does open it, it's a blank page with like, 7 little dots and Beatrice is like??????????????? But Ava recognizes it instantly and it's the freckles on Beatrice's cheeks, the ones she's always tracing, and she does that again, following the ink on the paper.

Beatrice had been ready to give up her religion for Ava, so getting to keep it, maybe, suddenly is a LOT. She can't quite believe something divine would do something like this for her. But maybe she can believe that something divine would do something like this for Ava.

Later, I wanted Beatrice to have a conversation with Mother Superion. I thought it would be interesting to get into the philosophical bits of it. To debate if Ava could actually be right in her ideas about how this could be, and still fit into what they know about god/Letters/religion. I liked the idea of the conversation ending with neither of them really knowing, and Mother S being like, look girl, you'll never know for sure, but that sounds like faith to me. And Beatrice says no, no this is different, capital F Faith is for the divine. This is just trusting that Ava isn't lying about the freckles thing, or won't get tired of me, or won't find someone else. Etc etc etc. because it's panicking time for Beatrice, suddenly. And Mother Superion just raps her knuckles sort of in the most gentle way she can manage and says "That's love, Beatrice." in the way way someone might say "That's pussy, babe."

Beatrice does leave the church (though she eventually goes back to 'consulting' kind of like Mary). And when she does actually physically leave as well, Ava is waiting outside on a bench. Beatrice asks why she didn't just come inside, and she says something about being a little afraid of churches these days. She did steal god's favorite, after all.

And then they walk off into the sunset, with Beatrice being like wait a second, I thought you said this was all God's plan. And Ava shrugs and says that she would never willingly give Beatrice up, so god might come to her senses and change her mind.

I was going to end it there, but I did consider doing an epilogue as well. Early on in planning I had this idea where, years later, all the nuns regularly come over to the Silvas (because Ava does keep her 'second' name, though she does start to learn more about the Reis family, and meets her Uncle - the dude Beatrice learned about the orphanage from). And on one of these occasions, the nuns are all in white, and they're delivering Beatrice's Letter, which is addressed to Beatrice Silva. In the end, I decided against this, because I liked leaving it more open-ended, but nothing had been set in stone at this point, of course.

So yeah, that was going to be a beggar in the morning. lol. I plotted most of it out before I even started writing, because it wasn't the sort of story you could make up as you went and still tell it well. And I did want to tell the story well! There's a part of me that's sad that I wasn't able to, but I do think it was worth writing what I did. I really loved seeing people realize that Lara was Ava, even as early as chapter 5! And I also loved people coming up with theories about how Avatrice would be endgame. Some of them were honestly really good and maybe better than mine fhdskjhfd I had one person be like PLEASE let Ava's Letter be for someone else so they can metaphorically spit in god's face and honestly that was valid.

I don't know if anyone is going to bother to read this very, very long reply to an ask that doesn't actually ask for any of this, but it honestly just feels nice to put all these ideas together and 'complete' the story. Even if I've done it in the most half-assed way possible I am so sorry fhadskjlfhldsj