#focuses on the concept of immortality

[heqvenlymoons]

I Gave You Immortality, I Can Take It Back Anytime

Daminette One Shot | Soulmate AU | AO3

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has always known she was immortal. Maybe not always. 

But there had been multiple instances in her life that proved she was. 

Like when she was four, she and Nino had been playing catch when the ball he threw at her bounced and rolled onto the road. Seeing no cars in sight, Marinette had rushed onto the street to grab the ball when a car seemed to have spawned out of nowhere and sped towards her. 

She had frozen in fear, not able to move when the car miraculously broke down just as it was about to hit her. Her parents hadn’t let her out of their sight for a while after that incident. 

That night, she remembered seeing a boy about the same age as her with green eyes, tanned skin and a permanent scowl on his face as he crossed his arms and looked at her with an air full of superiority as he snapped, “Be more careful.” 

She had thought the dream was weird and never saw the boy again until when she was six. She somehow contracted pneumonia and was sent to the ER for a life-threatening emergency. 

She slept at the hospital that night, afraid and alone, her parents weren’t allowed in the room as the sickness was contagious. 

She saw the green-eyed boy again, this time looking older than he was when she last saw him. His scowl was the same, looking down at her with disapproval as if she had sought out the sickness on her own and gotten sick on purpose. 

“Don’t look at me like it’s my fault,” She snapped, unhappy with his disapproving expression. 

He looked surprised but the expression was gone as quickly as it appeared, the scowling expression slipping back like it never left in the first place as he spat, “It is your fault! If you never went near that sick person in the first place, you would not have contracted the disease.” 

Marinette stomped her foot, unwilling to let the boy talk to him like that. “It’s not my fault I’m sick! Everything hurts! I’m scared and alone, I don’t need to add you yelling at me to the mix.”

By the end of her rant, she was struggling to contain her tears, the frustration of everything she had been holding back while she had been awake came tumbling out.

The boy’s face softened slightly and he shifted, looking uncomfortable at the girl looking so close to tears. He gave a hesitant gentle pat to her head as he said, “Get better soon.” 

The following morning when she woke up, her pneumonia had been cured. 

Since that night, the mysterious boy appeared more often on days when she got hurt or injured, and with her clumsy nature, she saw the boy every few days.  

“I just realized I don’t know your name,” Marinette asked one day as they hung out in the dreamscape. 

They were both doing their own thing, with the boy focused on his sketchbook and Marinette working on some colouring book. 

He grunted, not happy with the interruption. “That is not important.” 

She closed her colouring book and got up to snatch the sketchbook from his hands. 

“Hey!” he glared at her, hoping to intimidate her but she was stubborn, not giving in. 

“It’s important to me. I want to know who my friend is,” she said, referring to his earlier statement. 

“We are not friends,” he grumbled, looking away. 

She stuck out her tongue. “Too bad. You’re stuck with me, you always appear when I sleep.” 

The boy stubbornly avoided her gaze, focusing on some shelves behind her instead. 

“Just tell me your name. Please?” She whined, putting on her best puppy doll eyes, his scowling expression faltering as he all but melted at the adorable expression she was making. 

He huffed, trying to act like he was unaffected by the look but Marinette knew better. She had come to figure out his weakness as her puppy doll eyes and she used it to her full advantage. 

“Damian. Damian Al Ghul,” he said, glaring at her. 

Her smile was bright, his glaring eyes softening immediately and she was happy she had finally got him to tell her his name! He was going to be her best friend, it would be the last thing she did even if he continued to be stubborn. 

At 13 years old, she was given the ladybug earrings and became Ladybug, the heroine of Paris. 

That came with a price. She was injured more often, her meetings with Damian in the dreamscape every few days turned to every day. 

He had somehow known her identity as Ladybug as soon as she saw her the night after the first Akuma and he had thrown a fit about it. 

At 16, the akumas had escalated. Before, when the Akumas avoided killing and only stuck to injuries now weren’t afraid of taking more ruthless measures.

Multiple times when Marinette thought she was about to die, something miraculous happens to change it like the universe was being warped to make sure she doesn’t die and in a way, avenges her while it was at it. 

About to get lava sprayed and incinerated from an Akuma? The lava gun runs out of lava fuel, allowing her and Chat Noir to catch him off guard to break the akumatized object.

A car getting thrown at her by an Akuma and about to crush her? It missed, somehow ricocheting off a building and hitting the Akuma square in the face. 

That one battle where Hawkmoth himself shows up and has her cornered, about to grab her earrings? He gets attacked by his own Akuma. 

An Akuma that absorbs the powers of miraculous holders and cataclysms her? Oh would you look at that, the Akuma gets sidetracked at the last second— courtesy of Chat Noir— and the wall behind her disintegrates to dust instead of her. 

She could go on. It was absurd and a bit (utterly) ridiculous if she was being honest but at least her life never really seems to be in any real danger. 

She had thought maybe it had something to do with her donning the ladybug miraculous and it was giving her insane luck, she even consulted her kwami about it. 

Tikki had debunked that theory, looking confused as she did. “I’m not sure what’s happening to you, Marinette, but the ladybug miraculous isn’t the reason. The ladybug miraculous can give you a little luck at times but there must be balance, which means you would also have bad luck days. All those circumstances weren’t the outcome of lady luck and not to mention, you never seem to have any bad luck days. Even when you do, the event always somehow gets altered at the last second.”

Marinette had brought up her theories to Damian but he always looked uninterested and avoided the subject so she stopped bringing them up in the dreamscape. 

She had a hunch on why this was happening but she denied it and pushed the possibility out of her mind. Damian never said anything about it, so she wouldn’t either. She was good at denying things, it was how she never figured out Chat Noir’s identity. 

Now at the age of 17, Marinette was still contemplating if she was somehow immortal when Scarecrow broke in while her class was given a tour of Wayne Enterprises.

“So this is the famed Akuma Class, you people are the perfect test subjects for my new and evolved fear toxin! I wonder what fears you all have… Oh well, I’m about to find out.” Scarecrow announced, looking around in excitement like a kid in a toyshop for the first time. He pointed to Lila. “You! You look the most scared… Wonder what you’re afraid of, hmm?”

He looked to his henchmen. “Bring her here!” 

Marinette rubbed her temples. She might not be Lila’s biggest fan— an understatement— but her hero complex won’t let her stand by and do nothing. 

Even when it was completely Lila’s fault that Scarecrow had taken an interest in them— you can’t go around saying how you knew the Waynes and not expect any kidnapping attempts for ransom. 

No matter, Marinette can take Scarecrow’s attention off Lila and make him focus on her instead. Marinette knew death avoided her like the plague at this point and if she wasn’t immortal, then maybe she was just insanely lucky. 

“Let her go,” She said in a tired voice, not putting much energy into shouting but her voice rang clear in the quiet room as everyone looked fearful. 

Scarecrow looked delighted by the prospect of someone volunteering. “Oh, a volunteer I see?”

He waved his henchmen off and they dropped Lila, causing her to tumble to the ground with a gasp, the henchmen moving to grab Marinette instead. 

Marinette let herself get manhandled towards Scarecrow as he grabbed his syringe, the pointy tip of the needle gleaming in the light. 

The fashionista in her wanted to protest at the sack-like mask he was wearing and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything to anger him. It’s not like she’s seen worse, Hawkmoth has a worse fashion sense if she was being honest. 

Of course, her mouth didn’t stay shut for long and spat the words out without her permission, the need to critique his fashion overpowering her self-preservation. 

“Nice mask,” She quipped, she couldn’t keep the sarcasm off her tone even when her very life was on the line. “Are you participating in the next potato sack race or are you trying to start a new fashion trend with that?”

Scarecrow’s eyes flashed with anger at her remark and he moved forward, pushing his henchmen out of the way, about to stab the syringe into her bloodstream when she acted on her instincts as Ladybug and sent a roundhouse kick to his face, catching the mad scientist off-guard as he lost his grip on the syringe and fell backwards. 

The syringe seemed to have flown in the air in slow motion, the tip of the needle stabbing into the arm of the fallen villain and injecting the fear toxin into his bloodstream, making him get a taste of his own medicine. 

Marinette allowed her lips to twitch upwards at the sight, her guardian angel had struck once again. Her slight smile faded away at the thought, not wanting to come to terms with the facts. 

She turned to see that Batman, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing had arrived, looking dumbfounded at the scene. 

Red Robin stepped forward, looking cautiously at the screaming Scarecrow before addressing her. “Miss? How did this happen?”

Marinette hummed, looking nonchalant. “You can say he got a taste of his own medicine… literally.” 

The Batboys burst out laughing at her pun while Batman looked unimpressed. 

“What you’re saying is, Scarecrow was hit by his own syringe?” Batman asked, looking suspicious. 

She shrugged, looking towards her class to see they were being ushered out by Ms. Bustier. 

“I did a roundhouse kick to his face,” She admitted, making eye contact with Ms. Bustier who waited for her at the exit. “It caught him off guard and the syringe was knocked out of his hand before the pointy tip landed on his arm.” 

The suspicion in his eyes didn’t clear as he responded, “You must have been extremely lucky. This happened too conveniently, don’t you think?”

Batman was prodding for something but she couldn’t find it in herself to care about the interrogation or to quell his suspicions. “Mr. Batman, I was just in a traumatic situation and now have PTSD. If you don’t mind, I would like to join my class and spend the rest of the day at the hotel to get my mind off of the traumatic experience,” 

She could see Red Hood trying not to laugh at her reply as his shoulders shook and she turned away without waiting for how the Dark Knight would respond. 

She walked away to join the rest of her class as she heard Batman tell Red Robin to get the cure for Scarecrow.

──────────

As she went to sleep that night, she pushed the day’s events from her mind, and the fading laugh of Scarecrow dissolved into the quiet stillness of the dreamscape. 

Damian was already in the dreamscape like usual and was glaring at her with his arms crossed and looking annoyed. 

Marinette sent him her brightest smile, hoping to soften his annoyed look at her recklessness. 

It worked, his eyes softening, although he didn’t uncross his arms as he pinned her with the look he had on every time she did something that injured or almost killed her.

“I know you did that on purpose. What theory did you think you were trying to prove?” Damian asked, unhappy with her lack of self-preservation. 

Her eyes were wide, looking the epitome of innocence. “Did what?” 

He scowled, the soft look in his green eyes gone as it glittered with annoyance. “Tt. Don’t you take that tone with me. You know exactly what you did, don’t make me say it. It is getting increasingly harder for me to save you every time.”

To his horror, tears were glistening in her eyes and he tried to backtrack but the damage was done. 

“You died, didn’t you? Before we met? You were so young,” Marinette whispered, the tears falling as he didn’t respond. His silence was enough to confirm she had been right all this time. 

She looked away, unable to look at him as she came to terms with the facts she had been deadset on denying since young. 

Damian reached out a hand and looking hesitant, he moved forward to hug her from behind, his arms going around her waist and causing her to freeze at how he was initiating physical contact.

“Angel, I was never sure how to break the news to you… but it seems like you’ve always accepted the fact, albeit subconsciously. I did not mean to keep that fact away from you.” he said quietly, resting his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes and savouring the moment. 

He was right, even if she was actively denying the fact that he was dead, her subconscious had long already accepted. 

Since Damian had died before they met, their soul bond activated upon his death, the universe gifting them with the dreamscape and making it so that they would never be apart, even in death.   

There was a catch— she could only meet Damian in the dreamscape if she was injured or came close to death and he warped the universe to ensure she would avoid death. 

It was why she had always been clumsy, her heart knew he would be waiting for her in the dreamscape and wouldn’t be able to see her unless she was hurt in some way even if her mind hadn’t accepted it. 

Marinette voiced her thoughts out loud and he tugged her to face him, his green eyes meeting her blue ones with an intensity that made her breath hitch. 

“I don’t wish to see you hurt, Angel. I do everything I can to make sure you don’t die by saving your life at every turn. You need to stop with your recklessness,” he said, trying to look stern, although he didn’t look very convinced he was going to get through to her. 

She was stubborn and he knew it. 

He reached out to wipe her tears away with his thumb, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Thank you, Damian, for everything,” she whispered, the weight of her unspoken emotions palpable in the air between them.

With a trembling smile, she tried to lighten up the mood even as her heart felt heavy. “You know I won’t. How else will I see you every night to make sure you aren’t feeling lonely without my company? Besides, I know you will always watch over me.” 

Marinette knew her response held some truth to it, she didn’t like the thought of Damian feeling lonely in the dreamscape. She wouldn’t stop being clumsy, if only so she could see him every night in the dreamscape. 

He softened at her words, though he still didn’t look happy. “I gave you immortality, I can take it back anytime.”

She went quiet at that, looking thoughtful. “Why don’t you?”

His brows furrowed, a rare show of his confusion. “What?”

She elaborated. “Why don’t you? Take away my immortality that is.” 

His brows deepened, not understanding why she was asking him such a thing. “You deserve to be happy.” 

Marinette shook her head, stepping closer to him. “What if my happiness is with you? Why do you save me every time when you could’ve let me die to be with you?”

Damian’s eyes held sadness but no signs of regret at his repeated decision to save her. “You deserve to live the life I could not. You have dreams to fulfill and many things to discover in life. It is not your time yet.”

At her shocked silence, he continued. “You don’t know how hard it is to let you go every time. I am afraid that one of these days I will no longer be able to find it in me to let you go and bind your life to mine in the afterlife forever.” 

The tears she had managed to keep away started to come back at his heartfelt confession. 

“Please, I beg of you, don’t try to die anymore. Live your life, the life that I did not have the chance to live. If not for yourself, then do it for me,” he looked desperate, his stoic mask cracking, allowing her to see every emotion he was feeling. 

Her lips quivered, the tears flowing from her eyes and dropping to the white smokey ground, the droplets absorbing into the void like it was never there. “Will I ever see you again?”

Damian allowed himself to smile if only for her sake, the muscles feeling strange at the unfamiliar expression. He could see her eyes dropping to his soft smile and how her eyes were tracing his features, committing it to memory. 

“When the time is right. I will always be here when you need me, mon ange. This is not goodbye,” he said, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. 

Marinette closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in his presence before it was time for her to wake up. 

She would live her life and fulfill her dreams. 

For him.��

[fateandloveentwined]

wuxia, xianxia, and cultivation differences meta

translations: wuxia 武俠, xianxia 仙俠, and cultivation 修真/修仙 (xīuzhēn/xīuxiān)

think i've seen posts on this eons ago, and i'm pretty sure there are tons of these online, but since this has been written up already let's just have another one.

wuxia 武俠

wuxia and xianxia sound similar, but basically for wuxia it is about the pugilistic world (江湖 jiānghú). It is relatively more down-to-earth, and people practice martial arts ("kungfu") in their current life -- they do not do it to become xians (仙) and gods (神) however.

Like Thousand Autumns and Faraway Wanderers/Word of Honor, it has more historical background and ties to the current court and kingdoms, because people are living in the moment and concern themselves with worldly issues.

Martial arts may seem unrealistic, but in view of chinese fantasy it would be considered "real". It consists of fighting moves and internal energy, which they call qi or nèigōng (內功), and at times you see people flying around, climbing hills and jumping across rooftops which is qīnggōng (輕功).

xianxia 仙俠

A level up would be xianxia, where characters in the story cultivate to become xians (and gods, like in the heaven official's blessing). They don't really care about earthly issues here now, because their ambitions lie beyond the current world, and cultivation, getting stronger, and an immortal life are majorly all their goals.

You may not always see them working towards that purpose, such as in mdzs they are considered a lower-xianxia society (低魔), meaning people don't go through all the steps of cultivation and only stay at the stage before the "golden core" stage.

In xianxia, characters still learn basic fighting moves aka. martial arts, but to direct the internal energy they use línglì (灵力), zhēnqì (真气), and fǎlì (法力), all xianxia terms you commonly see. "neigong" is practically nonexistent in this genre. That's why people building up their "neigong" instead of "lingli" are likely never going to be able to cultivate.

cultivation 修真/修仙

A subgenre in the xianxia category would be cultivation. Characters actively go through the stages of cultivation, and likely for the MC, because they are the main character, they successfully become a xian and exit the world at the end of the novel.

There are many stages of cultivation, usually defined at the beginning of the novel in the synopsis, and a typical example of the different levels would be this:

练气，筑基，金丹，元婴，化神，炼虚，合体，大乘，渡劫

And with a cursory search, an English translation would be something like this, albeit not with all the cultivation ranks identified.

Qi condensation (练气), Foundation establishment (筑基), Core Formation (金丹), Nascent Soul (元婴), and the names after that vary too greatly with translation and fandom so I'll jump straight to Immortal Ascension

extra info: getting into the philosophy of it all

It'd be interesting to note that the word "xiá" (俠) permeates all these genres. This is something akin to the concept of "hero", but not at all also, and I'd love to speak more on this but this post has already gone way longer than I hoped it would be, so perhaps another day.

Regardless, it is interesting to note that wuxia has a greater emphasis on "xia" than xianxia. (some joke that cultivation doesn't have the word "xia" in it, and much of that is because characters have foregone heroism and focused on gaining powers and working towards ascension instead). As a result, wuxia is more confucianism-oriented, though not without its taoism and buddhism influences.

xianxia, on the other hand, is mainly derived from "dào" (道), from taoism, which is another lengthy concept if I ever get to it.

And some may have heard of the "farming" genre, 种田 (zhòngtián). This has to do with golden fingers (mary sues) in imperialistic china, earning a wealth of money, and all that. It has nothing to do with cultivation, alike they sound in english.

that's it for now, hmu if you wish to ask/discuss!

(and apologies for the pinyin translations, hope it's understandable still! formally writing pinyin they are supposed to be two separate words not one.)

[lordprettyflackotara]

who’s afraid of little old me? || eyeless jack

smut minors dni 18+ ! tw: primal!eyeless jack, tall!cryptid!cannibal!reader, descriptions of gore/cannibalism, unrealistic predator/prey tendencies, blood kink, biting kink, breeding kink,squirting

full credits to @miss-multi45 for this concept <3

Strength. Skill. Stealth.

These were the traits that made Eyeless Jack believe he was at the top of the food chain. He had fought grizzlies before for fun, just to test his limits. The wolf pack that hunted in Slender woods steered clear of him. His scent was everywhere, along with the screams of his victims still echoing throughout the trees. Jack never had any issue hunting, a deer becoming a treat if campers hadn’t dared to wonder into the forest. With his heightened senses, he could smell or hear any living thing with no troubles. Truthfully the older he got, being an immortal cannibal was making him cocky. The self deprivation and depression was beginning to fade away. He was the best of the best. The only member of his kind. And better yet, he lived like a goddamn champion.

Hunting always put Jack in a good mood, the trill of the chase his favorite part. The potential of the victim, the variables he couldn’t control always made things so exciting.

So he did what he did best, shoving his scalpel in his hoodie and walking into the Slender forest. He was barely twenty feet in, when the sweet scent of metallics hit his nostrils. Jack frowned, lifting up his mask for a moment to deeply inhale. It wasn’t uncommon to smell blood in the forest, after all, Jack wasn’t ignorant enough to think the circle of life didn’t exist without him. But as he inhaled deeply, his eye sockets widened. Copious amounts of blood had been shed on his land and he hadn’t caused it. It could only mean one thing: there was an intruder lurking on his territory.

Not only were you lurking, you were hunting. You might as well have slapped Jack in the face. Jack gritted his teeth, darting into the direction of the scent. He zipped effortlessly through the trees, ignoring all of the curious gazes the forest’s creatures gave him as he zoomed by. Usually Jack stalked his prey effortlessly, he never ran unless he was chasing something. Little did those little chipmunks and squirrels know he was hunting, just something much more dangerous than normal. You.

When Jack had hit the clearing, that’s where he saw you. A secluded campsite that once sat in the open field was now painted crimson red. Tents were barbacilbly torn open, blood trails splattered across the grass. It was something straight out of a horror movie. Dont get him wrong, Jack loved horror movies. But only when he created them. He walked past the abandoned tents, the wind blowing past him only increasing the sweet stench of exposed organs. That’s when Jack saw you. As ethereal as the internet and story tellers had described. Your hair was long and luscious, braided down your back. Your eyes were bright and snakelike, the golden color focused on your meal. You held a young man in your grasp, the life drained from him ages before you had gotten him in this position. His eyes were lifeless, his body slumped over as you bit into his neck. Jack watched silently as you ripped out a chunk of flesh, chewing on it quickly before swallowing it. Jack was puzzled, were you even enjoying the flavor? He watched as you continued to eat the scraps of flesh that remained on the corpse. Blood trailed down your chin, thin splatters of the red liquid were drying across your cheeks.

“Are you going to stand there or are you going to join me?” You asked suddenly. You were very aware of Jack’s presence, the notion alone freaking him out. “I don’t dine with trespassers,” Jack stated plainly. He stepped fully into view, your eyes briefly flickering up and scanning him briefly. “You’re not human, what are you?” You asked. Jacks hands were tucked in his pockets, his height giving away his species. “I could ask you the same. Thought you were just a myth,” Jack replied cooly. You finally looked up from your meal, ignoring the dozens of other ripped apart corpses that laid between the two of you. “And I thought one could only have sight if they had eyes. I guess we both thought wrong,” You quipped. Jack tried to conceal the animalistic growl that boiled in the bottom of his throat. “Allow me to cut to the chase, you’re hunting on taken land,” Jack spat, venom placing his words. Curiously you rose to your feet, the demons eye sockets widening. You were just as tall as him, without shoes. You were bare foot, your long legs glimmering in the sunlight.

The pastel yellow sundress you wore was stained with dry and fresh blood, rising up just above your inner thighs. “The Operator owns this land,” You answered, slowly. It occurred to you that Jack may look human like, but his animal instincts were overriding any sense of humanity he had left. “Right, but I hunt here. My scent is everywhere, I know you smelled it when you decided to slaughter my cattle,” Jack snarled. You narrowed your eyes, momentarily blinded by one of the corpses being reanimated. The young woman was barely clinging to life, her intestines hanging loosely on the ground. Both of you could hear her shallow breathing. “Oh for fuck sake,” You mumbled, stepping over your previous meal. Jack growled, watching you pick up the slumped over body. You grabbed her neck, twisting it to the side. A sharp snap rung through out Jacks ears. “I like my organs fresh,” Jack snapped. You dropped the fresh corpse. Rolling your eyes, you straightened your back. “Her organs were quite literally coated in dirt, is that the freshness quality you were searching for?” You asked sarcastically. Jack’s patience was thinning. In a swift motion he took off his mask, baring his shark like teeth.

“Enough chit chat. I am an apex predator. You are quite literally no where near me on the food chain,” Jack yelled. You blinked, your mind spinning as you contemplated your next move. “Are you really afraid of little old me?” You questioned quickly. Should you laugh? He couldn’t quite possibly be serious right? “Um, I mean we can share the leftovers..?” You asked slowly, unsure how to respond to his animalistic behavior. Jack snarled, throwing himself at you. You were a threat. Jack knew how to handle threats, he did it for Slender on occasion. He was proficient in his ability to kill. Killing you was no exception. You narrowly dodged him clawing at you, his sharp claws ripping through your dress. He was huffing as you both watched the fabric fall to the ground. Shreds of the pastel yellow cloth hit the dirt, a cool breeze sending goosebumps across your freshly exposed skin. Jack’s eye sockets widened at the sight of your exposed breast, a creamy silk lingerie covering you. Jack couldn’t quite remember the last time he had given in to his primal urges to mate. He never considered a human being, due to the likelihood of him breaking them by mistake. But you, you were just like him in an odd way. Your breast were nice and perky, your cunt covered with a thin fabric that he could hardly consider to be undergarments.

He had anticipated you to rush to cover yourself, as the average person would do. But if anything you stood taller. “One minute you want to kill me, the next you’re staring at me like a pre teen boy. Are you bipolar?” You asked. Jack snickered at the question. “I’m a doctor, i’d know if I was bipolar,” He answered. Something about your unwavering confidence only made you more attractive. You were a threat surely, but you seemed to have much more potential as a mate. The primal urge to breed was clouding Jack’s judgment, his temporary territorial rage completely subsided. “I’m no doctor but i’d say you’re animalistic then human,” You say. Jack furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh really? How do you gather that?” He asked. You pointed at his pants, your hands still covered in fresh blood. “Your cock is straining against your jeans,” You say. Jack felt heat rush to his cheeks, before looking down. He hadn’t felt embarrassment for the first time in a long time. Yet here you were, flustering him beyond belief. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. I get the sense that neither of us have had the privilege of mating in a long time,” You said. Jack nodded, trying to seem cool and level headed. “May I make a proposal?” You asked.

Jack agreed, trying to keep his voice steady and even. “I’d say one thing we have in common is the fact we have pent up stress due to what we are. Now, I think leaving you these delicious leftovers as well as allowing ourselves to indulge in our more primal urges with one another is more than fair,” You offered. Jack ran the offer in his head, calculating all of the different possibilities. “And after you’ll leave?” He asked. You nodded affirmatively. “I never stay in one place for too long,” You answered. You walked towards the demon, bringing your index finger to under his chin. You lifted his head up, examining his neck. You could hear his pulse up close, it was beating much faster than the average human. “I will admit though i’ve broken my previous toys in the past. Are you sure you can handle me?” You questioned. Jack chuckled darkly, grabbing your wrist and moving your hand away. “I could ask you the same question,” He grinned. Quickly you brought your lips to his, allowing yourself to shudder under his warm touch as he grabbed your waist. His hands were large and warm, pulling you closer towards him. You could feel his aching boner as you kissed him deeply, the demon on cloud nine.

Your height complimented his if anything, his large hands grabbing your ass. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. The dampness of your panties was already soaking through, leaving a wet spot on his crotch. You whined as you bucked your hips against his, the demon unfazed by your height. You briefly pulled away, nibbling teasingly at his bottom lip. You tasted like blood, as well as faint bubblegum. “You’re stronger than I thought loverboy,” You complimented. Jack roughly brought you to the closest tent, your back hitting a forgotten sleeping bag. “Yeah? Let’s see how you handle me,” He replied smoothly. He kissed down your neck, purposefully nibbling at the sensitive skin. His hands wondered down to your hips, pulling apart what remained of your dress. “I assume you’ll be acquiring me some clothes?” You questioned. Jack shrugged off his hoodie, carelessly tossing it at your face. “Here, that should fit you,” He grunted. Tearing away your panties and tossing them aside, your bare slick drove the demon into a frenzy. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping them pried apart as as began to lap at your cunt.

Your hand instinctively flew down to his hair, tugging harshly at the roots as he stuck two of his tongues inside of your aching entrance. You gasped in surprise, moaning in delight as he curled them upwards. “At least that mouth is good for something,” You panted, grinding against his face. His third tongue flickered and swirled at your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. Your human lovers could never compete with this. He had been buried in between your thighs for mere minutes and you already could feel the knot in your stomach tighten. Jack grunted in response to your comment, delivering a sharp slap to your thigh. A whine escaped your lips, your thighs squeezing around his head. His tongues were merciless, your juices so delicious Jack found himself humping against the tent’s floor to help relieve his aching cock. He could feel your gummy walls squeezing his tongues, a concealed smirk spreading across his lips. You were just as delicious as the chaos you caused. You gave his hair one final tug, releasing all over his face.

Jack contained to lap at your slick until he deemed you clean. You were dazed, but repositioned yourself quickly. Your mouth was watering at the idea of sucking his cock. You’d never wanted something more. Jack quickly pushed you back down, the clinking of his belt sending a shiver down your spine. “Not this time. I can’t go another minute without being inside of you,” He snarled. His sudden dominance only made you more wet, his hands roughly shoving you into a mating press. Jack licked his lips as he pulled out his cock, slowly pushing it inside of you. You whined at the stretch, Jack not failing to notice your claws digging into his arms. “Not so big and bad now are we?” He teased. He let out a groan as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. The way you were gripping him, the way your nails were digging into his back. You wanted this just as bad as him. You needed this just as bad as him. He fully bottomed out inside of you, his tip brushing against your g spot. “Holy fuck,” You whimpered. Jack couldn’t help but grin devilishly as he slowly moved his hips. “It’s like you were made for me,” He grunted. He began to pick up the pace, snapping his hips into yours.

His thrust were rough and desperate, his body craving to release into yours. He had never felt such a raw and intense connection before, his body demanding more. “You’re mine, all mine,” Jack grunted. He continued to fuck you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasped at the sensation, a moan escaping his lips and being muffled by your skin as he sucked at your blood. The metallic taste was euphoric, your cunt squeezing him tighter as he marked you. “Fuck leaving. You’re mine. My mate,” Jack moaned. His thrust became more aggressive, his cock abusing your cunt as he claimed you as his own. You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head, your thighs shaking. “Oh my fucking- fuck! Jack!” You moaned. Jacks thrust were uncontrolled, his body demanding to fill your cunt to the brim. He released your neck, his three tongues lapping at the wound. “This feels nice huh? Being knocked down a peg?” Jack snickered. The feeling of your gummy walls milking him dry was euphoric, the demons orgasm coming closer.

“Gonna fill you up over and over and over. My little mate. Your pussy’s like goddamn heroin,” Jack rambler. You forced yourself to prop yourself up on your elbows, crashing your lips against Jack’s. “You talk too much,” You teased, nipping at his bottom lip. You groaned in his mouth as his cock abused your g spot, your eyes fluttering open as you squirted around his cock. Your juices coated his lower half, the demons hips finally stuttering and coming to a halt. His warm, thick cum flooded your cunt, filling you to the brim. You both were panting messes, Jack utterly surprised when you flipped the two of you over effortlessly. You straddled him, managing to keep his cock buried inside of you.

“So loverboy, wanna go for round two?”

You had so much stamina it was scary. Jack could see it in your eyes, you were ready to go as many rounds as he could do.

Maybe Jack should’ve been afraid of little old you.

[yukurie]

So I had an idea about haunts and ghost territories. Ghosts have haunts and are fairly territorial over them. Danny’s haunt is Amity Park obviously but it extends to more than that: every square inch of the town and every resident that lives in it whether they currently live it in or were born there and moved elsewhere are his and he is very protective, it’s his nature after all, his very obsession is to protect.

Normally multiple ghosts haunting a location is normal, there is a hierarchy and internal logic to how a ghost goes about joining a location to haunt however: when a new ghost is formed or finds a location that calls to them to be their haunt and it’s already haunted the new ghost must find the ghost with the original claim to the location and request to co-haunt it. Usually this is accepted and allowed with a few exceptions of greedy ghosts.

Danny isn’t fully aware of all this however, his living side has been blocking out certain instincts of his ghost half in a mental block he’s unconsciously made to continue having a sense of “normalcy” in his living half of his life. One day a particularly rude and aggressive ghost come through the portal and states that they will take this haunt as their own, Danny as usual excuses himself from the class though those few looking at him (Tucker, Sam, maybe Dash) notice he looked particularly angry (what was that crunch? Why does the corner of his desk look cracked?). As he fights the ghost onlookers notice Phantom is particularly aggressive while fighting this ghost: there’s no quips, every time he talks to the ghost he seems enraged, and he seems to be doing as much as he can to hurt the ghost instead of capturing him as usual. After the fight is over and he disappears (to release the ghost back i to the infinite realms) instead of being gone till another ghost appears (Danny never returned to class), Phantom can be seen floating above one of the tallest buildings for hours observing the town quietly.

Ghosts are ageless, once they pass a small impassable mental barrier is created to separate them from their mortal age to protect their mind from the passage of time, now that more of hi instincts as ghost are no longer being blocked by his living half he is starting to see everyone around him as what they are: children (they will pass on eventually and he’ll be here to guide them gently through it).

Depending on if this is a no one knows au or if Tucker and Sam know it changes from here. If they don’t know: they notice Danny seems to quiet drastically from here, his eyes seem both duller and almost older, he seems to watch everyone almost like an old man would watch a child taking their first steps before snapping back to his normal self. If they do know well they go looking for him and when they find him he’s draped along a balcony of the tallest building in the town in his ghost form watching the town quietly, when they try to question why he didn’t come back and why they heard he was so violent with this ghost he answers vaguely and says something along the lines of “He tried to take whats mine”.

Basically my idea is that some random rude ghost claims they intend to steal his haunt and that breaks down the mental block his living side has created to keep him balanced, now his mind is flickering back and forth between the 14 year old boy who happens to be half dead and the practically immortal ghost who happens to be half alive and who practically reigns over the concept of protection. It also releases just how truly protective he is over his town and everyone connected to it.

Heck if you wanted to you could potentially extend this to dpxdc by making it so that since he practically reigns over the concept of protecting people that everyone who would fall under the titles of “hero, vigilante, or antihero” (basically anyone who does what he does for Amity) and focuses on saving people fall under his banner. A hero saves someone somehow despite being sure they shouldn’t have been able to run that fast or be that strong or stay standing after the damage they took? Danny subconsciously grants them that additional little help they needed to save that person. Maybe batman could notice that occasionally in extremely dire circumstances heroes at seemingly random are able to do things not in their limits that can’t be explained via adrenaline: maybe flash manages to hold up something he isn’t nearly strong enough to even lift an inch, maybe Batman manages to run at a speed just barely under super-speed but definitely over what he knows he’s capable of to save a child from being shot in the head, etc etc

[vesora]

my opinion + quotes at the end

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

the concept thinking from the end in itself can bring lack i believe

there is no beginning, there is no middle and there is no end.

there is just now.

there is no 'end', there is just a different persona to the one 'you' - as in your true self - has now. every possibility is happening all at once - all NOW.

there is no time lag. stop looking outside of you for answers. realise who you really are and that is - God. just bask in that for a bit.

there is no trying. there is no effort. there just is. you just are.

just surrender and eliminate the possibility of problems existing.

you are no-thing, therefore you can be any-thing. you are formless, therefore you can take shape of any form. you are free.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"You are a master. Not a victim, not a slave. You are here to be a God, a creator, a chooser, a responsible party of creation-- a free agent of Infinity." - Bentinho Massaro

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Be alive! This is a dream! Move on, create, be fearless, be immortal, be timeless, be unafraid. Be focused on what you do not yet know; be focused in the new-- in the non-physical" -Bentinho Massaro

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"The mind creates time and space, and takes its own creations for reality. All is here and now, but we do not see it. Truly, all is in me and by me. There is nothing else. The very idea of “else” is a disaster and a calamity." -Nisargadatta Maharaj

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“I will be” is a confession that “I am not “ The Father's will is always “I AM.” Until you realize that YOU are the Father (there is only one I AM and your infinite self is that I AM), your will is always “I will be.” ― Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Nothing outside yourself can cause you any trouble. You yourself make the waves in your mind. If you leave your mind as it is, it will become calm. - Shunryu Suzuki

[olegianote]

MLP G5: Repaired Bonds AU

[This AU focuses on bringing back concepts, lore and history, which was established in the G4 show, into the G5 story. Everything consists of the ideas I (and my friends!!) found really cool. They might not make sense to everyone, but they do to us <3]

I'll keep the story brief for this post, but first, let me introduce the Alicorns!

Flurry Heart plays a major role in the story, she basically takes Twilight's place as the one who put all pony magic into the stones. [I'll explain my reasoning in the future post.]

After casting this powerful spell she turned into a crystal sculpture, sealing her powers as well. When Sunny brings the stones together, magical energy frees Flurry from the slumber and now she has to learn the ways of modern ponies and learn about the past centuries.

Sunny Starscout helps Flurry Heart to catch up with everything and acts as a guide, explaining new rules, cultures and more!

So modern day adventures will be full of learning new things, being faced with the concept of immortality and friendship lessons for Flurry Heart!

Flurry with accessories, Sunny as a pony and their height comparison!

And by the end they'll actually fall in love with each other! A crackship AND a slowburn? I told you some things just won't make sense!

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Sorry its been a while, last month was crazy! Not too crazy for my emotional support fandom, though! You guys are giving me life. So please have another fic rec list. :)

We two boys together clinging by Aliquis

Charles and Edwin explore their romantic and sexual hangups and also help Crystal search for Niko. This fic has everything: excellent writing, developing relationship, rituals, first time, Beltane, a hot priest. This is already a fandom classic and now I've finally read it, I can confirm it's very good! Read the rest of the series too!

The stranger the better by ghostinthelibrary

Everyone's alive and basically the supernatural version of the Men in Black. I love the whole series, but this installment has the boys' first meeting, Edwin insisting he doesn't need a new partner, office gossip and an intriguing case. The prequel also has palasaki and background catwin! Anyway, I'm obsessed with this AU.

Partridge in a Pear Tree by Vamillepudding

Cinderella AU! Charles is basically a Disney Princess and Edwin is Secretly The Prince, it's wonderful. I also loved the worldbuilding and nods to old school Cinderella lore, like the gift-giving tree. So charming, highly recommended.

Wunderkammer by dear_monday, two_ravens

Edwin and Charles (and later Crystal) are functionally immortal and running a magical museum. This fic has a fantastic sense of place (the Athenaeum is a character in its own right) and an intriguingly gothic horror vibe with its sentient exhibits, doors into other planes and unnerving nonchalance about disappearing staff and guests. I would probably die, but I would absolutely go there.

pinch me (I don't want this to be a dream) by shadowquill17

The pince-nez fic! Charles finds a pair of glasses that show him a person's desires. Then he looks at Edwin. It goes about as well as you'd expect. It was inspired by this wonderful comic by technically-human so check that out too!

Let Me Follow by LikeMmmCookies

Time loop fic! The boys get trapped in Crystal's mind, replaying the day of Charles' death. Only Edwin is the New Boy in school and he's alive... Fantastic concept, so intriguing. Plus Crystal being a badass, The Sandman crossovers and Niko!

Oaths of the Forsworn by e_va

Vampire AU! The boys meet while Charles is dying so Vampire!Edwin agrees to turn him. The story is ongoing, but so far it's been focusing on Charles coping with being a fledgling vampire. Compelling.

lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate by KiaraSayre

Edwin is in Hell. Or is he? Fabulous writing, Hell worldbuilding and gut-wrenching detail. Cw for body horror and torture.

'Cause You Cut Through All the Noise by DontOffendTheBees

Edwin doms Charles in a therapeutic and non-sexual way. That's it and it's great. I loved this for its exploration of intimacy, trust and kink.

Instructions on Being by thewritingotter

Everyone is Alive Modern AU based on an AITA post featuring Charles convincing himself he's homophobic when he realizes he hates Edwin dating other men. It sounds like a funny premise, but really brings the angst and poignancy.

in an alternate timeline's light by plentyghost

Charles finds comics!Edwin hiding in the office. Sweet.

Become So Numb by snowkatze

AU where the Night Nurse doesn't help Charles and Edwin spends another 50 years in Hell. Loved Edwin's mechanism for escape, kind-of-dark Charles and the angsty reunion.

unidentified affectionate object by lyres

Edwin is struck by a curse that manifests his feelings as random objects. Good thing Charles isn't also effected... Very cute with mild angst and a happy ending.

between you and me, suddenly something is on my mind by lolotr

Beach episode! A proper one. Just fun, friendship and emotional support. Plus Edwin in an Edwardian swimming costume, complete with a handy visual aid.

Other Types of Intimacy by Asidian

After a tough case, Edwin takes care of Orb!Charles. (Chorb? Is this chorbwin?) I guess I have a thing for non-sexual intimacy. Seriously, though, what could be more beautiful than someone cuddling your soul?

(black is the colour) of my true love's hair by ObsessedWithFandom

Charles has long hair: the fic. Interesting ghost lore with Charles' hair kind of working like his mood-ring polo and growing when he's happy. And this is an established relationship payneland fic, so lately he's been very happy. 😜 Honestly, as a child of the 80s, Charles deserves to have long hair. I need more fanart!

@ghostinthelibrarywrites @shadowquill17 @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lolotr @technically-human @dont-offend-the-bees @neurodivergent-fangirling @fishy-lava @many-gay-magpies @cordelia-noir @whatthehorsedoicallthisblog @shazziez @extremely-eager-reader @atariakana @tragedy-machine @guardianspirits13 @colourmornings @herebehunters @dearheartdont @avoiceofnerat @littlepocketuniverse @overlord-of-chaos @fairandfatalasfair @handwrittenhello @every-moment-a-different-sound

I've added some tags for people who left fun tags/comments on previous lists. Let me know if you'd like me to add you on the next one. :)

[crooked-wasteland]

The court scene in hazbin leaks seemed empty .

Lute had no arguments, she was yelling in void, the seraphim and female stolas were just there waiting for plot to happen, Sera answer to anything lute saying was "shut up" literally, which isn't only unprofessional for a governor to do but also it helped at portraying lute as crazy hysterical woman no one respect without the presence of her man.

If hazbin hotel was really interested in discussing the concept of good and evil then here's the right moment, we could take this scene as opportunity to talk about the the justice, lute should represent the concept of the justice is inflexible only bound to the rules that kept people safe for decades . her arguments is that they are currently in war with hell and they can't let a sinner in might be dangerous he might attend some harm upon them or play the role of spy for the morningstars . Emily or stolas-evil-twin or anyone, will represent the concept that there's no justice without mercy and rules should have an exception for cases like this their argument is his sin didn't come from malicious place but rather from a genuine fear so is his act of redemption and therefore we have right to assume that his soul is inherently good and he attends no harm and we should welcome him in heaven .

And I remember a saying in writing goes like :"write an argument where everyone seems to win"(I forgot the actual quote) and I think this one of the scene where we should apply that in order for scene to have a depth

I agree, except on the account of Lute's argument being pointless. Unfortunately, you need the other leak of Seraph talking to Able and the one of Vox to grasp the points being made.

Major spoilers incoming!

The argument Lute makes in the courtroom is nonsensical because we were never given the information. At the start of the season, Charlie has a fairytale book of her parents and it mentions Lilith using music to rally demons against heaven. Vox says this explicitly in a reminder lore dump of 12 whopping seconds that Lilith was prepared to go to war with Heaven before vanishing.

So there's that aspect of the world we never had mentioned or hinted at in the main series. It would have actually helped a lot with incorporating Lilith's army waiting for her in Happy Day in Hell. It also could have been tied back to Rosie and her cannibals. Maybe hinting at the Rosie and Lilith connection more appropriately, or at least opening the idea that Lilith had an army waiting on her still.

Additionally, Seraph mentions how Hell will "want revenge". So even if Hell wasn't a threat before, her greenlighting a genocide is going to make peace a relative impossibility. It's inevitable for Hell to fight back, so now Heaven has to figure out if they will risk their own safety by ending the cullings, or continue and admit they are oppressors keeping Hell weak intentionally. It would make the suggestion of redemption unappealing, regardless of being possible.

But the issue the series will have to patch over is the idea that Sinners would want to be redeemed if it wasn't for Heaven's yearly census shaving. The conflict in the pilot was that Sinners wouldn't want to be redeemed. The exorcists were actually a believable motivation for why anyone would even consider redemption when you have the right to suffer and cause suffering forever in Hell. The issue of the Sinners' immortality questioning how the show is going to believably instill the idea that the discomfort of staying the same is going to outweigh the discomfort of change. And the exorcists seem, frankly, necessary to maintain the pressure on Hell to give Charlie a chance. Meanwhile, maintaining a genocide is going to turn away people who are probably good at their core. The pressure of being oppressed will leave them nowhere to go and without options that don't in some way contradict their own values.

So the story is actually focused on the major plot issue for once. However it isn't staying there. Then we have to remember the sneak peek Medrano shared of Baxter and how the concept of Redemption at all is what is being challenged. Not if Redemption is desirable. So that is where the two sides of the story lose cohesion. Honestly, the Heaven storyline will be far stronger than the story taking place amongst the actual main characters. And between the Baxter/Alastor/Lute reveals, I'm wondering what time there is left to even tell any story about the main character. Once again, we're looking at too many plot threads not being given enough time to expand.

[kathrkive]

six hundred strike somehow wrapped up every characterization in epic!

or maybe this is just me wanting to yap + justifying the song's ending because i liked it so much and it somehow just... made sense for epic?

here's the thing: i think it's important to note certain factors when it comes to understanding media, and with epic, it's to note that (1) jay took creative liberties, (2) he's focused more on characterizations specifically odysseus', and (3) it's greek myth HUEBCDBEHDB HEAR ME OUT

the concept album evidently holds the theme of ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves, and it's crucial for odysseus and poseidon's characterizations. let's start with ody!

despite epic consistently following the story of homer's the odyssey, if we try viewing the concept album as an independent media, it's evident that the story is driven by ody's morals and decisions. the sagas exist because his character does something that drives the story forward, and that makes the entire story character-driven. with that, together with this media's theme, ody's reaction to poseidon's "vengeance" quite makes sense!

this man has been outsmarting everyone from the very start, and that's homer's intent with his epic—to teach lessons of not trying to mess with the gods. odysseus in the odyssey was a mere tool of providing moral lessons, why epic!odysseus is otherwise as it's evident that jay focuses on his growth as a person. him ending up beating the shit out of poseidon after twenty years of just wanting to go home by the end of the song establishes who he really is: from a man to a monster.

such reaction also establishes jay's intent of epic!ody becoming more humane, in a sense. finally reaching his last straw and breaking apart by being physical with a god instead of trying to outsmart his way out of the situation again makes sense because with ithaca being rows away? he's emotional—he's had enough, and he just wants to get it over with. how? by being the monster that poseidon wanted him to be.

now with poseidon! things such as "poseidon is a god, there's no way odysseus could do that to him" or "what ody just did would just anger him further" are thoughts that actually entered my mind upon listening to the song, but after focusing solely on poseidon's character, there might be a way out of those arguments.

do note that jay takes creative liberties! which means that upon withholding the trident especially with knowing how the trident has its own power, it could've given odysseus strength to actually yield it and hurt poseidon with it. the trident is a powerful symbol—just like with zeus' lightning bolt, poseidon's trident is powerful enough to impale a god. so yes, it is quite possible for odysseus to do that with the trident. with anything else? i don't think so.

also, ody managed to use poseidon's storms against him, and those storms are obviously powerful enough to drive someone's path away from their actual post. consider the god exhausted—he's immortal, not invincible.

with regards to odysseus angering the god, oh trust me, he will be angry. his reputation is wiped off, and imagine being the god whose name is associated with defeat over a mortal? the god will be mad, but in a sense, poseidon could (or maybe should) understand what odysseus had done.

from his very first song, poseidon is already very assertive of his point: ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves. the statement itself is passive, which indicates assertion and topicalization on the point of ruthlessness. basically it just means that he really doesn't care about anything—he just wants his point to come across, and he doesn't like that anyone goes against such belief. odysseus, as a man, does go against it, and he dislikes it. that just means that the sea god would never stop being angry unless the man learns his lesson.

and he does! the student showcases his knowledge by being physical instead of just trying to outsmart him because outsmarting your way out of a situation could just mean cowardice for the god. odysseus proves him otherwise. which is why, poseidon's alright does not really state his acceptance of defeat, but rather him understanding that he got his point across the mortal's mind. it's like a i get it now go home and give me back my trident you impudent prick i'll get back to you when you piss me off again ahh response

he'll definitely find a way to shit on him again, but with his point being learned? he can stop for now

all i can say is jay made this entire concept album BEAUTIFULLY and i admire him for that. to more character-driven stories!

(please be kind i wear my heart upon my sleeves english isn't my first language don't make me cry)

[theostrophywife]

in my head.

take me closer, take my clothes off—oh, i fantasize if i’m honest, it's more fun when you can't read my mind

author's note: oh, this was so much fun to write. big thanks to @azsazz for listening to me rant about this concept and giving me the idea of the daydream montage. consider this as my gift to everyone for hitting 2k! you are all lil cuties and ily mwah 💋 song inspiration: fu in my head by cloudy june

You knew that it was wrong to fantasize about Azriel. 

You knew that as you sat across from him in the private library at the House of Wind, poring over the most recent reports, debriefing on your latest mission, and exchanging valuable information that you’ve gleaned from spying and scheming, that you should be focusing on the task at hand rather than imagining the shadowsinger bending you over the ornate wooden desk and pulling your hair as he fucked you from behind. 

“What are you thinking about?” Azriel asked, his handsome face illuminated by the crackling hearth. 

“Nothing,” you responded, hiding your blush behind a book. 

Scarred fingers curled around your wrist, taking the tome from your shaking hands. The shadowsinger pulled you into his lap, fisting the hem of your cotton dress around your waist. 

You swallowed as the sound of his belt hitting the carpeted floor echoed in the library. Azriel bent you over the desk and gripped your hair in one hand, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. I’ve seen you looking at me all night.” You whimpered as he traced the curve of your ass, teasing his tip against your slick folds. “Is this what you want? For me to fuck you against this desk until you’re nothing but a pathetic, whining mess?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. “That’s what I want.”

Azriel chuckled, dark and low and all too seductive. He kissed the base of your spine. “Then that’s what you’ll get, princess.”

The shadowsinger thrust his cock into your pussy, eyes rolling back from how tight you felt, nearly making him come right then and there. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes and Azriel gently wiped them away with his thumb before sliding out just to ram himself back in again. 

“That’s right, sweetheart.” Azriel declared, cupping your cheek. “Take it. Take all of me.”

You knew that you should be enjoying the company of your friends during your night out in the city, joining in on their drinking and dancing at Rita’s instead of slowly sipping your wine, discretely ogling the shadowsinger over the rim of your glass, taking in his soft, raven hair that you were convinced would feel like silk underneath your fingertips, tracing down the elegant planes of his face, those high cheekbones, the aquiline nose, the sensual, pouty lips making you bite down on your own lip as you daydreamed about what he’d taste like, how rough his hands would feel against your skin, how dominant and demanding he’d be as he kissed you. 

The shadowsinger growled into your mouth as he pressed you up against the bathroom wall. He kissed you—rough and hard and demanding as though his immortal life depended on it. 

“You’ve got such a smart mouth,” Azriel breathed, capturing your lips in his. You moaned as he bit down, hard enough that your bottom lip already felt swollen from the effort. “I wonder if all that sass will hold up with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Azriel groaned as you knelt before him, impatiently unbuckling his trousers. You palmed him through the fabric and his head tipped back against the wall, that molten gaze burning with desire as he fisted your hair in his hand. You looked up at him through your lashes as you gripped his cock, your hand smooth and silky as you pumped him, licking the bead of precum gathered on the tip with a flick of your wicked tongue. 

The shadowsinger shuddered and his wings flared at his back as you took him into your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby.” Azriel said, his voice husky and full of gravel as you bobbed up and down his length. “Yeah, that’s it. Just like that.”

You knew that you should be paying attention to the spymaster’s directions as the two of you trained together, your back pressed flush against his chest as he corrected your form, spreading your feet apart and placing his arms around your shoulders, scarred hand wrapping around your own as he demonstrated the proper way to deflect a dagger, but technique and training was the last thing on your mind as his scent clouded your senses, awakening that familiar ache in your core that had everything to do with the way he was holding you rather than the hours you’d spent mastering the move. 

“Try it now,” Azriel challenged. He crooked a finger at you and smirked. 

You lunged, but the shadowsinger was gone in a flash. Azriel disappeared within his shadows only to reappear a few feet to your left. Truth-teller slammed down against your own dagger as you darted underneath his legs. 

Again, Azriel was swallowed into a swath of darkness. Your eyes roamed over the empty training ring, trying to predict the shadowsinger’s next move. He already attempted to attack the blind spot on your left side, but you’d expected that. Had trained over and over again to make sure you were no longer vulnerable there. 

While Azriel was skilled, you sparred with him enough to familiarize yourself with his fighting pattern. He was cool and calculated, often defaulting to the defensive as he toyed with his opponent. 

But he wouldn’t be gentle with you. 

No—Azriel knew all too well that you’d go on the offensive. So he’d place himself in the best position to strike first, which meant he’d pick his strongest point. 

Flight. 

Azriel materialized above you, his dark wings swallowing up every bit of sunlight. He slammed down hard, but met nothing but sand. You had already moved out of the way, sneaking up behind him and cutting him off at the legs. 

You were fast, but not as fast as the shadowsinger. Azriel pinned you down on the red sand, his beloved dagger inches away from your throat. 

“It was a valiant effort,” he said with a slight smirk. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that if you hope to beat me.”

You grinned. “It’s not over yet, shadowsinger.”

His confused expression served as a signal to employ the last trick up your sleeve. You tilted your chin up towards him, your face mere inches away from his. Azriel faltered as his gaze dipped down to your lips. 

You could see his throat work as you wrapped your legs around him. The shadowsinger let out a sharp intake of breath as you flipped him over. This little manuever of yours placed you right on top of Azriel, your ass pressed firmly against his groin. 

His hands found your hips, a soft groan escaping his lips as you pressed his own dagger against his throat. Something like awe and admiration washed over the male as he gazed up at you.

Azriel’s laugh was smoky and gruff when he realized he’d been bested. “Good girl.”

Cauldron fucking boil you. 

Your grip on the weapon slipped and Azriel tossed the blade to the side before pinning you down once more. The soft sand shifted around you as the shadowsinger kissed your jaw, trailing kisses along the hollow of your throat, nipping at your collarbones as his hand slipped down the front of your leathers. 

“I’m impressed,” Azriel hummed as he teased two fingers along your soaking folds. “I think you deserve a reward for that, sweetheart.”

You whimpered as his thumb circled your clit. “What if someone hears?” 

The shadowsinger smirked. “Well I guess you’ll just have to be quiet, angel.”

As he plunged two fingers inside of you, Azriel’s mouth covered your own to swallow your loud moan.

“Y/N?” Cassian’s voice called out from across the room. “What do you think?” 

You blinked, suddenly finding yourself seated in the game room at the House of Wind. Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel were all looking at you expectantly. The Illyrian general’s hand hovered over the stack of chips on the table as he raised a brow. 

Right. 

You were playing cards before you’d lost yourself to another ridiculous, embarrassing, dirty daydream about one of your closest friends. A blush crept up your cheeks as you shook the thought away. This had been happening more often than not and usually at the most inopportune times.

You truly needed to get a hold of yourself. 

Beside you, the shadowsinger stirred. He looked over at you in concern and lightly touched your knee under the table. 

“You alright?” he asked, low enough so only you could hear. 

You swallowed, nodding way too fast for the movement to be perceived as normal. You clenched your thighs together as Azriel squeezed you playfully. 

Gods, that really wasn’t fucking helping. 

“I’m fine. Just got distracted.” You averted your gaze from the shadowsinger and faced Cassian instead. “Go big or go home, Cas.”

“See!” The Illyrian general exclaimed, “I knew Y/N would have my back. She’s a risk taker, unlike you two old snores.” He pushed his mountain of chips to the center of the table. “I’m all in.” 

Azriel and Nesta exchanged an amused look before the latter snorted, fondly rolling her eyes at her mate. 

“Let’s see your hand, then.” 

Cassian proudly slammed down his cards. It was a good hand. 

“Not bad,” Azriel mused. Cassian smirked at his brother, but his expression faltered when the shadowsinger’s lips quirked. “But mine’s better.”

Azriel revealed his hand, which, as always, beat every single hand.

Cassian crossed his arms, grumbling as his brother claimed his winnings. “That’s three games in a row! You have to be using your shadows to win.”

You giggled. As much as you loved Cas, the male did not take well to losing. 

“Or I’m just that good.” Azriel smirked, catching your eye. He winked and you nearly choked on your drink. 

Cassian rolled his eyes. “I need another drink,” he clinked his glass against yours. “Want a refill, Y/N?”

You shook your head, feigning a yawn. “I’m feeling a bit tired, actually. I think I’ll head to bed.”

The Illyrian general scowled again. “Leaving me with these vipers,” he mumbled under his breath. “If all my money is gone tomorrow, just know that you could’ve prevented it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re a big boy, Cas.” You teased, patting your friend on the back as you passed him on the stairs. “I’m sure you can manage.”

Lowly, you elbowed your friend. “Watch out for Az’s shadows. They always curl to the right when he’s got a good hand.”

Your friend grinned in conspiracy. The intel on his brother’s tell seemed to brighten up his mood a notch. 

“I heard that!” Azriel called after you. 

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You winked at Cassian and waved back at your friends. “Good night!”

It was, in fact, not a good night. After excusing yourself from the game, you laid in bed for a good hour before realizing that sleep was not coming any time soon. 

You were too wound up from fantasizing about Azriel. A part of you knew that it was wrong. Azriel was your friend. If he ever found out about your filthy fantasies, you’d be mortified. 

But…that’s all they were, right?

Just fantasies. Harmless as long as they stayed in your head. 

You closed your eyes, letting your imagination take over. That golden brown skin covered in dark intricate tattoos. Those strong muscles, honed by centuries of combat and training, rippling in the light as he spared against you. The cocky smirk that pulled at his lips, making his handsome face light up with mischief. 

Azriel was so beautiful it almost hurt. 

More importantly, he was kind and good and patient. The type of friend who noticed all the little details. Who listened and learned without passing judgment. Who made you feel seen and known. 

For months, you’ve had a sneaking suspicion that whatever you felt for Azriel was more than just physical attraction. It might have started off that way with all your daydreams, but even those seemingly benign thoughts that you attributed to Azriel’s obvious attractiveness and close proximity had turned into something more. 

As of late, you found yourself delving into more innocent imaginations. Holding his hand. Brushing back his hair. Kissing him softly. 

But you never let yourself think about those thoughts any further. You were afraid of what they meant. 

So here you were, tossing and turning in bed as the thought of Azriel haunted your subconscious for what seemed like the millionth night in a row. You sighed in defeat. 

There was only one way to get the shadowsinger out of your head. 

A soft sigh escaped your lips as your hand trailed down your torso, sliding underneath the sheets until you reached the waistband of your lace panties. This would be it. You could pleasure yourself to the thought of him to erase the truth that you were too afraid to face. It would be the last time—or so you told yourself. Repeatedly for months on end. 

Pushing all other pesky little feelings aside, you focused on getting yourself off, which would hopefully get your mind off of the shadowsinger altogether. 

The shadowsinger stared down the empty hallway, his attention snagging on your closed door. After beating Cassian and Nesta three more times, the trio had decided to call it a night. His brother more disgruntled than his mate. 

Azriel smirked. He’d wiped the floor with Cassian, despite the information you’d given his brother about his tell. The shadowsinger hadn’t even known about it himself. He’d have to find a way to correct that, but for now…

The Illyrian warrior paused as his feet took him directly in front of your door. His shadows swarmed around him, snaking through his wings and curling against his ears, whispering one thing and one thing only. 

Your name. 

“She’s sleeping,” he said quietly. One of his shadows poked his cheek in irritation to which Azriel responded with an eye roll. 

They wanted to play with you. To be near you. Azriel knew the feeling all too well, but still, you had looked a little frazzled and distracted earlier and he briefly wondered if the rigorous training he was putting you through was to blame. He hoped not. The shadowsinger liked sparring with you. 

You were feisty, wild, and unpredictable. Azriel never knew which side of you he was going to get. The sweet and sassy friend or the deadly lethal spy that made Rhysand hire you in the first place. You challenged the shadowsinger and he loved every second of it.

Azriel smiled quietly to himself and as he was prone to do for the past couple of months, he hovered near your door and though he was sure you had long fallen asleep, he still leaned in and whispered. 

“Good night.”

He was perfectly prepared to retire to his own room, his scarred hand already twisting the doorknob across the hall when he heard it. 

The rustling of sheets. The restless tossing and turning. And then—a soft moan that made the shadowsinger freeze in place. 

Azriel took a deep breath, desperately trying to shake the desire to come closer to your door. But there it was again. That breathy crescendo that ensnared his attention. 

Even his shadows tugged him closer—pulling and pushing in the direction of your room. Azriel was vaguely aware that it was wrong to eavesdrop on a friend, but he couldn’t help it. 

The shadowsinger pressed his ear against the wooden door, listening intently for that sweet, smooth voice. 

“Azriel.”

His hand flew off the handle of your door as though it were on fire. There was no way you knew he was out here, listening. Azriel was far too silent and stealthy for that. 

But you’d said his name all the same. 

No, you moaned it. 

Before he could truly comprehend what he was doing, Azriel pushed the door open and crossed the threshold of your bedchambers. 

He wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him. 

You were laying in bed, your hair unbound and cascading around your shoulders, your eyes squeezed tight as little pants and whines slipped past those always bitten lips. 

“Az, please.”

He inhaled sharply as his gaze zeroed in on your hand nestled between your legs, rubbing back and forth with increasing pace as your back arched off the bed. 

How many times has he found himself in the same position? How many times had he pleasured himself to the thought of you right across the hall, picturing this exact image in his mind, imagining the soft breaths and sensuous sighs that were now coming out of your pretty little lips? 

A shadow curled around your wrist, startling you out of your daze. You shot up in bed, panic and alarm flooding your features as you watched Azriel step out of the darkness. Inky shadows wafted off of him, curling around your other wrist and both ankles as they pulled you to the edge of the bed towards the shadowsinger. 

“Say it again.”

“Who—I—what are you doing here?”

Azriel stalked towards you like a predator tracking its prey, his golden eyes burning with a hunger that made the air in the room crackle with electricity. 

“Say. It. Again,” Azriel growled. 

“Azriel,” you breathed softly as his hand came up to brush against your cheek. 

You held your breath as Azriel traced the curve of your cupid’s bow, his rough, calloused thumb dragging your bottom lip down. 

“When you were touching yourself,” he said, his voice low and dark and dangerous. “What were you thinking about?” 

Blush bloomed high upon your cheeks. It was bad enough that he’d caught you in the midst of pleasuring yourself. You didn’t want to admit that it was his hand you were imagining between your thighs, those slender, scarred fingers working you towards release. 

The shadowsinger spread your legs apart and you inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering involuntarily as his hand crept up your thigh. “Were you imagining this?” he asked, dipping his head down to place a soft kiss against the hollow of your throat. 

Azriel caressed your skin, teasing, testing, taunting as he drew patterns along your bare legs. “Do you fantasize about me doing dirty, filthy things to you? Do you moan my name in the night as you get yourself off on the thought of me?” 

His teeth grazed your jaw, sucking harshly as you released a shaky breath. Azriel looked at you expectantly and you nodded, confirming his suspicions. 

“Tell me,” he breathed. “Tell me every dark fantasy that crosses that beautiful mind of yours.”

“I think about you touching me. I think about you kissing me. I think about you fucking me,” you confessed. Azriel’s eyes were dark, bottomless pits of desire as you continued to speak. “When we’re alone in the library, I fantasize about you bending me over the desk and fucking me until I’m hoarse. When we’re out in the city, I dream of breaking away from our friends and letting you have your way with me in the bathroom. And when we’re training, I think about you pinning me down and using me whichever way you desire.”

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned. “How long? How long have you wanted this? Wanted me?” 

“For as long as I could remember.”

The shadowsinger was quiet as he appraised you. “I’m sorry.” Your throat worked, dread filling your core. ”Are you mad?” 

“No,” Azriel said decisively. “I have wanted this since the moment I laid eyes on you.” He tilted your chin up, kissing your jaw. “I’ve thought about all the things you’ve thought about and more. Filthier, dirtier, and kinkier than anything you could ever imagine.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice breathy as he continued peppering your neck with kisses. 

“Because,” Azriel snarled, nipping at your ear lobe. “I like you and I didn’t want to fuck this up. But now that I know you feel the same…” He grabbed your wrist, fingers still glistening with your own arousal. 

You watched with rapt attention as the shadowsinger took your fingers in his mouth and licked away every drop of your juices. 

Azriel moaned. “Gods, you taste even better than what I imagined.”

He pushed you into the mattress, his lean body hovering above yours. “We’ll do everything you fantasized about, sweetheart. Every single dark, depraved daydream. But first, I want to taste you.”

You shivered as the shadowsinger buried his head between your legs. His cool breath fanned against the inside of your thighs, his soft, wet mouth placing kisses along your mound. Then, he started devouring you. 

With his tongue flicking wickedly past your soaked folds, you moaned and writhed off the bed. Whatever you were imagining, whatever fantasies you may have had, shattered into pieces as reality slammed into you. Azriel’s lips worked you better than your fingers ever could, sucking and prodding, his expert movements making you come undone with each stroke.

Your breathy moans echoed off the walls as the shadowsinger gripped your thighs. Azriel was kneeling at the edge of the bed, one hand moving to hold your hips down while the other squeezed your breasts. He looked up at you as one of his shadows tilted your head down.

“Look at me, kitten.” Azriel said, your slick juices dripping from his mouth. “I want to watch you come.”

Cauldron fry and fucking boil you.

As he sucked harshly on your clit, you came fast and hard, your mind a blank canvas as white noise rang in your ears. Azriel held your hips down as the orgasm racked through your body. He didn’t stop feasting on you, devouring every last drop, and heightening your pleasure until you were coming a second time. 

The shadowsinger glanced up at you, kissing the side of your ankle as your legs fell slack behind his shoulders. You didn’t even notice when you’d wrapped them around his neck. 

Azriel brushed stray strands of hair away from your face. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. Softly as though he hadn’t spent the past few minutes making you come in record time. 

He hummed, savoring the taste of you, exploring every inch that you yield to him. Despite the back to back orgasms, you were insatiable, pulling Azriel’s head down so you could kiss him deeper. He smiled, pulling away briefly to catch his breath. 

Golden eyes trapped you in place, making you feel like you were swimming through honey and sunlight. “Beautiful,” Azriel murmured in appreciation. “You’re beautiful.”

You grinned. “So are you,” you declare shyly, caressing his cheek and sighing dreamily. “You’re so pretty, Az.”

His lips quirked. “I’d prefer devastatingly handsome, but I’ll take what I can get.” 

Azriel winked, making you blush furiously. He kissed your cheeks, your neck, your jaw, taking the time to commit all your little moles and freckles to memory. Gathering your wrists in one hand, he looked down at you through his dark lashes. 

Shadows snaked through your skin and gently removed your nightgown until you were completely bare before Azriel. You watched as he palmed himself in his large hands, his cock hard and thick against your stomach. You strained against his hold, wanting to touch him. To feel him. 

“No,” he said softly. “I want you to watch. I want you to see how desperate you make me.” He tugged at his proud length, his breaths ragged as he groaned. “This is what I think about when I’m alone in the middle of the night. After restraining myself from touching you, kissing you, fucking you. This is what I have to do to keep myself from yanking your door open and taking what I want.”

The arousal pulsing through your veins drowned out every other sensation. You watched as Azriel continued to stroke himself, feeling the bead of precum sliding against your stomach as he pleasured himself to the sight of you. A heady sort of rush blurred out all the rest as his moans increased. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, rubbing your slick core against the underside of his cock. Azriel jolted from the friction and his movements turned frantic as he worked towards release. His head dropped down to yours as he kissed you roughly, all teeth and tongue and tension while the orgasm tore through him. 

The sound that ripped through his chest was animalistic. You’ve never heard such filthy sounds come out of anyone’s mouth like this before. It was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. 

“I need to be inside of you, now.” 

“Gods, yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

There was no preamble of shyness or hesitation between you as Azriel guided his cock into your slick folds. The two of you had been waiting for this moment for too long to feel a hint of apprehension. 

The shadowsinger pushed and pushed, his cock stretching your silky walls as he buried himself inside of you. When Azriel was finally fully sheathed inside of your pussy, you both released a satisfied sigh.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he grunted, relishing the way you hugged around him. “It feels like fucking heaven.”

You whimpered as he slowly slid in and out, building your pleasure with slow strokes. Despite the steady pace, it felt like the sheer size of him was splitting you apart in the best way possible. 

You raked your fingernails over his back, inhaling sharply as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “You feel so good, Azriel. My imagination is shit compared to this.” 

He chuckled, kissing the hollow of your throat. “I aim to please, angel.” 

Azriel’s lips found yours in the darkness. As he deepened the kiss, his thrusts turned sharper and faster, his hips snapping to yours at a relentless pace. He held you throughout it, kissing you, intertwining your fingers, pulling away every once in a while to make sure you were comfortable. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Azriel asked gently, the soft tone of his voice providing a sharp contrast to his punishing pace. 

You nod, smiling up at him. “Better than alright.” Wrapping your legs around him, you squeezed your walls and Azriel released a string of curses under his breath, making you chuckle. “Don’t go easy on me. I want you to ruin me, Azriel.”

The shadowsinger’s wings flared behind him. Those giant, mighty wings swallowed you whole and plunged you into darkness. Your words flicked a switch on within him that he hadn’t even known was there. 

Electricity crackled between you as Azriel hiked your legs over his shoulders, pushing you into the mattress until the back of your legs were pressed against the front of his thighs. He was a male unleashed—restrained be damned, Azriel fucked you rough and hard, digging his fingers into your hips as he rutted into you, leaving half moon bruises on your skin as he made a mess of you. 

“Fuck, Az,” you whimpered, tightening your grip around his trim waist. Your head lolled to the side as he fucked you dumb. All thoughts vanished from your mind and the only thing you could focus on was that familiar feeling budding in your core. “That’s it—right there. So close.”

“Open your eyes, angel.” Azriel murmured, locking your fingers together. You peered up at him, a prince of shadows and darkness, perfect and beautiful in every way. “Together, baby.”

You nodded and as he kissed you again, you succumbed together. Your bodies melted into one, limbs locked and lips fused in heated embrace as the force of the joined orgasm wiped the world away. At that moment, it was only you and Azriel. 

The shadowsinger moaned your name, his head falling slack against your shoulder as his teeth grazed your collarbone. You held him against you, panting while the two of you came down from the high.

Azriel sighed softly as you played with his hair, twining your fingers in his dark locks as he slowly opened his eyes. 

“Az?” you murmured shyly.

He looked up at you, his eyes full of earnest desire. “Yes, angel?”

“When you thought about this…what did we do? After, I mean.”

The shadowsinger smiled. “You asked me to stay and we cuddled and I told you how adorable you are when you get shy around me.” He kissed your shoulder. “It was always the best part of the fantasy.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “I think I’d like that,” you whispered, smiling. “I think I like you.”

“Good, because I have no plans of letting you go.”

You smiled and for once, you didn’t drift off into a daydream because the reality of Azriel was better than the fantasy.

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria

[copepods]

okay gonna try and put this into words because it kind of made me insane the other day but basically. rain world and 17776 both deal with the concept of "what if people lived forever" and take it in completely different directions. 17776 has humanity, suddenly gifted with infinite time, solve all of their problems, and ultimately decide that they're happiest living the simple, mundane lives they've always lived. meanwhile in rain world, the ancients viewed their endless reincarnation as a Great Problem to be solved. the game goes to great lengths to show the ancients as pompous and shortsighted, and shows almost all their attempts at transcending as a failure, due to their inability to move past the material world. their greatest attempt to solve this problem, the iterators, literally wreck their world's ecosystem before eventually falling to ruin. so you have humanity in 17776, who are thriving in their immortality by embracing what they love about their world and each other, and then the ancients in rain world, who failed to embrace the nature of their lives and eventually vanished from existence. i guess you could call that two opposite directions taken for the same central theme, of not reaching too far and being grateful for what you have?

moving past civilization and focusing on the robots. 17776 has the space probes, and rain world has the iterators; both occupy similar roles, as machines built by their respective civilizations to accomplish a task, but over the course of time their task has become null and now they have no real purpose to continue existing. 17776 takes this with its typical joyful tone; nine, ten and juice are free to live their lives as they please, using their time to delight in humanity's shenanigans and in each other. meanwhile, the iterators continue striving to solve their now meaningless problem, working endlessly, in some cases literally to their deaths. something about the perpetuation of cycles perhaps? humanity was able to accept their lives as they were and so are the space probes, but the ancients' hubris carries over into their creations. idk someone write an essay about this im sure theres more to say if you think about it

[sherlockhomies-42]

Inspo from I can't remember the writers name but this did come from them if this is familiar to you dm me I'll give u credit I just wanna take this concept and twist it into something different. Anyways ENJOYYYYYY

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlies voice cut thru all the murmurs in the hotel lobby as she walked a step closer to the stranger

"I'm sorry, who are you again?" The question came wit less assertion than expected from the child of Lucifer himself

 

The woman let out a good laugh from her stomach as she answered

"So funny!! Hahaha, Dear Charlotte, Everyone knows me!" The woman let out a sigh at the end of her laugh, only to have a spear aimed right at her throat.

Vaggie stepped forward pushing the entity back

"Alright, I don't know what your game is here but we're fully booked on mysterious psychopaths so if you'd please get the FU-"

Her sentence cut off by her spear seemingly ripping itself from her hand and imbedding into the wall.

 

"Easy now, I'm not threat to your beloved Princess, well as little of a threat as I can be to someone who's as immortal as I am."

The room seemed to shift as shadows barley contained themselves from below her feet, however he sunny disposition never faded as she promptly stuck her hand out and greeted;

"Pleasure to finally meet in the flesh Dear princess, I assume at least you know who I am?"

Charlie focused and tried to identify the strange aura she felt from this woman when it finally clicked.

"Death"

[schizoidvision]

8 Ways The Schizoid 'Dark Side' May Manifest...

One of the aspects of Schizoid Personality Disorder (SzPD) that is not often fully understood or explored in mainstream literature is how its darker side manifests. Schizoid traits include detachment from social relationships, emotional coldness, and a preference for solitary activities. However, the inner subjective world of a schizoid is far more complex, often shaped by existential questioning that may lead to the emergence of dark thoughts. Here are 8 ways the dark side of schizoid personality disorder may manifest:

1. Existential Angst and Nihilism

Schizoids frequently experience existential angst—an overwhelming sense that life is meaningless or devoid of value. This feeling stems from their emotional detachment and depersonalization, a dissociative state where individuals feel detached from their thoughts, emotions, or body, contributing to a diminished sense of self. Their isolation can exacerbate this realization, leading them to question the purpose of life, existence, and even society's worth. This existential questioning can lead to nihilism, where they believe that nothing in life truly matters.

2. Compulsive Thinking and Obsessive Thoughts

Due to their low levels of external engagement, schizoids may find themselves overthinking or becoming stuck in compulsive thinking loops. These can range from abstract philosophical ideas to dark fantasies involving destruction, death, or control. The schizoid's isolated mind becomes a fertile ground for obsessive thoughts that may reinforce their sense of alienation and mental fragmentation.

3. Dark Fantasies and Escapism

Schizoids often turn to elaborate fantasies as a coping mechanism. For some, these fantasies may involve dark themes like violence, control, or revenge. These fantasies serve as a form of mental escape and may be used to process their sense of powerlessness and emotional distance from the rest of society. However, despite the intensity of these fantasies, schizoids generally maintain strong reality testing and do not act on them.

4. Obsessions with Dark Themes

Schizoids may become fixated on dark, symbolic themes such as death, destruction, or horror. Horror films, dark mythology, and grim philosophical ideas can resonate with their internal conflicts and existential anxieties, often linked to unconscious feelings and conflicts beneath the surface. These obsessions allow them to explore their darker emotions and unresolved traumas from a safe distance.

5. Childhood Trauma and the Fragmented Self

Many schizoids have a fragmented sense of self, often tied to childhood trauma or emotional neglect. This dark part of their psyche can be rooted in internalized negative emotions or negative influences from mistreatment by early caregivers. This unresolved trauma can resurface as dark thoughts, fantasies, or feelings of alienation from others.

6. Emotional Detachment and Confrontation with Dark Realities

One of the hallmarks of schizoid personality disorder is emotional detachment. This detachment allows schizoids to confront harsh or "dark" truths about life without the emotional distress that others may experience. Schizoids use intellectualization as a defense mechanism to avoid emotional distress by focusing on logical reasoning or abstract thought. Therefore, they may intellectualize and rationalize difficult realities, adopting a cold, analytical stance on issues like suffering, death, and human nature.

7. Identification with Dark Fictional and Mythological Characters

Schizoids may find a unique resonance with dark fictional characters or mythological figures, such as vampires, who embody isolation, emotional detachment, and a life on the fringes of society. These characters often symbolize themes of immortality, existential loneliness, and the struggle between the self and the external world—concepts that deeply align with the schizoid's inner experience.

8. Religious and Philosophical Escapism

Some schizoids may turn to religious beliefs, spiritual practices, or philosophical systems as a way to create meaning in their lives and to stave off the darker thoughts of nihilism. These belief systems help them build a more positively focused internal world that provides comfort and distance from existential despair.

Summary…

While not all schizoids experience a "dark side," those who do often deal with complex internal conflicts that involve existential questioning, dark fantasies, and compulsive thinking. The manifestations of these darker aspects are largely influenced by their level of functioning, personal history, and coping mechanisms. For most, these thoughts remain safely contained within the imagination, although they may become a recurrent part of their internal experience. Understanding these manifestations can help in recognizing the unique challenges that schizoid individuals face, and how they navigate a world that often feels empty or alien to them.

Video From My Youtube Channel: The Dark Side of Being Schizoid

[yamayuandadu]

“Roaming into immortality”: Ten Desires and the history of Taoist immortals

As promised last month, following the freshly established tradition I have another Touhou research post to offer. This time, we’ll be looking into the literary traditions focused on Taoist immortals (or, following the Touhou convention, “hermits”, though this is a less suitable translation) and how they influenced Ten Desires. Due to space constraints and thematic coherence, note that only Seiga, Miko and Yoshika will be covered. Before you'll begin, I need to stress that one of the sections requires a content warning. While all images are safe for viewing, there's a description of a potentially unpleasant episode involving unwanted advances, and various events leading to that; I highlighted that before the relevant paragraphs too just in case.

“Hermit”, “immortal”, “transcendent” A post about Ten Desires must start with an introduction of the term sen, the Japanese reading of 仙, Chinese xian. Touhou specifically uses its less common derivative 仙人, sennin, though that's just a synonym. Touhou-related sources basically invariably translate this term as “hermit”. While this option can be found elsewhere too, it is not exactly optimal. “Immortal” is actually the standard translation for both sen/xian and sennin, as far as I am aware. I did a quick survey of recent publications on Brill’s and De Gruyter’s sites and the results were fairly unambiguous, especially for books and articles published after 2000, with “hermit”, “wizard” and other alternatives being quite uncommon. The trend is not new, with sennin already translated as “immortal” in the 1960s. When it comes to xian/sen, in a few cases arguments were made that “transcendent” or “ascendent” would be a more suitable option as it better illustrates the position of these beings, though this is a relatively recent trend, for now limited to Sinology. The idea behind it is that immortality is just one of multiple characteristics attributed to the xian, and it is ultimately the transcendence to a higher level of existence that’s the key element. I personally think the argument is sound, but not all translators have embraced it, and for now the choice is really a matter of preference. Since “immortal” is more widespread, and most of the sources in the bibliography use it, that’s what I will employ in the rest of the article, save for direct quotes from Touhou, where "hermit" will be used.

Early history of immortality in Chinese sources

Feathered immortals worshiping Xi Wangmu (from Betwixt and Between: Depictions of Immortals in Eastern Han Dynasty Tomb Reliefs by Leslie Wallace; reproduced here for educational purposes only) The notion of pursuit of immortality, or at least longevity, is first attested in Chinese sources in the eighth century BCE, when the first bronze inscriptions revealing their authors wished to avoid death altogether appear in the archaeological record. However, the ideas which directly lead to the development of the concept of immortals as discussed here only started to develop in the fourth BCE. Initially they were associated with so-called fangshi, a class of multi-purpose esoteric specialists who often served for example as court diviners. These ideas developed before the unification of China by Qin Shi Huang, but their importance grew after this event, as many of their proponents were warmly received in the courts of Qin and Han emperors. Some of them, like Wu of Han, even sent expeditions in search of distant lands where immortals purportedly lived, of which Penglai is the most famous. As a curiosity it’s worth mentioning here that the reception of these pursuits was actually mixed in Chinese historiography. Some of the rationalist Eastern Han authors such as Wang Chong evaluated it critically, basically describing it as a waste of time and resources leading to poor governance. We know relatively little about the development of beliefs focused on immortality outside of the imperial court in the Han period, though it is evident that they gained considerable prominence, and it’s even possible to speak of “immortality cults” among the general populace. That’s for example seemingly how the worship of Xi Wangmu, arguably one of the most famous Chinese deities, became widespread. Tomb paintings showing blissful immortals also appear in this period. In art immortals were initially depicted as winged, feathered beings. The origin of this tradition remains unclear, though it has been noted that various similar bird-like beings are also listed in the Classic of Mountains and Seas, attesting to this being a widespread motif in early Chinese tradition. You might be familiar with portraying immortals as wizened sages instead. This convention only developed when the image of the immortal merged with that of the ascetic hermit in the Eastern Jin period - more on that later.

Immortals in Ge Hong’s Baopuzi

A 20th century illustration of Ge Hong (wikimedia commons)

The first formalized instructions for the pursuit of immortality were compiled during the reign of the Eastern Han. Some of them were rooted in the early Taoist tradition, which at the time was also being partially formalized under the Way of the Celestial Masters. Seemingly many Taoist works dealing with these matters were compiled, but most of them are only known from references in Ge Hong’s Baopuzi, one of the most important texts for the study of the history of ideas about immortality. Ge Hong states that immortality can be obtained through personal virtue and specific practices, including exercise, following strict dietary restrictions and, most importantly, through engaging in alchemy, which he hails as the most effective. All the means to obtaining immortality were unified by one principle: cultivating qi, both by maintaining one’s own and by absorbing it from the right kinds of plants and minerals. Grains were held to be inappropriate food for those pursuing immortality, as it was believed they nourished the so-called “three worms”. The final goal was to be able to use morning dew or light for sustenance. The easiest way to move towards that goal was believed to be consumption of alchemical elixirs, said to possess a more potent, refined form of qi of all their carefully selected ingredients. Needless to say, many of such magical concoctions were highly poisonous thanks to the inclusion of mercury, cinnabar and other similarly exciting substances. Ten Desires describes the consequences pretty accurately: Miko “turned to the use of various unusual materials, such as cinnabar” which “ruined her body”; as a result she “destroyed her health because of the very Taoism that was meant to grant her immortality”. Such a fate is not historically unparalleled, and there is even a strong case to be made that the notoriously erratic behavior of some of the particularly immortality-obsessed emperors was the result of alchemically induced heavy metal poisoning. Cinnabar cocktails aside, a further important piece of information from Baopuzi is the reference to three classes of immortals, celestial (天仙), earthbound (地仙) and corpse-liberated (尸解仙). What separated these three groups was the degree to which they perfected their state before formally attaining the rank of immortal. The most refined were basically invited into heaven, with the best of the best taken there on the back of a dragon. Those who despite their efforts lacked something had to put in some additional effort themselves instead. While the "celestial" and "earthbound" immortals are largely self-explanatory (we'll go back to them later, though), the label of “corpse-liberated” warrants a more detailed explanation. It refers to those who settled for faking own death. This act is called shijie (尸解), and involves substituting the body for an object, which is to be buried as if it was a person. Of course, immortality obtained this way was effectively second rate, though it was not impossible to become a proper celestial immortal later on. As you can probably notice, this is precisely the path to immortality ZUN has chosen for characters in Ten Desires. The term shikaisen used multiple times in the game is in fact simply the Japanese reading of 尸解仙.

Immortals in secular literature

Four Immortals Saluting Longevity by Shang Xi (wikimedia commons)

The importance of the search for immortality grew during the Six Dynasties period. Seemingly in all strata of society a common reaction to frequent political turmoil was to seek solutions in Taoism and still relatively new Buddhism. This in turn left a huge impact on Chinese culture of this era as a whole. What is of particular relevance for this article is less the straightforward religious dimension of immortality, and more its reflection in literature. Works about immortals were already being written in the Western Han period, with the oldest surviving example being Liexian Zhuan (列仙傳) attributed to Liu Xiang, who lived in the first century BCE. Their importance only grew with time due to the aforementioned process, and they became a well established part of both poetry and prose. For example, a sixth century treatise on literary genres, Xiao Tong’s Selections of Refined Literature (文選; Wenxuan), pretty much the main source to fall back on in the study of pre-Tang literature, recognizes youxian (遊仙), literally “roaming into immortality”, as a distinct type of lyrical poetry. There’s a considerably degree of nuance to this term, since 遊 has the implications of leisurely, playful activity, but these lexical considerations are beyond the scope of this article. While in some cases the tales of immortals focused on figures primarily known for other reasons, like the Yellow Emperor, Chang'e or Laozi, many document the lives of historical pursuers of immortality instead. Well attested fangshi and Taoist masters appear in such a context, for instance Anqi Sheng or Liu An (according to a legend he ascended to heaven with his entire household, including dogs and other animals). The literary biographies, or rather hagiographies, of immortals often highlighted their personal eccentricities, tied to their detachment from society. The archetypal eccentric immortals are obviously the members of the group popularly known as the Eight Immortals, though this is a much later development, and the genre conventions formed centuries earlier. Literature about immortals is interesting from a modern perspective because at least in part it was arguably a secular pursuit. As secular as something could be prior to the rise of the modern notion of secularism, that is (see Mark Teeuwen’s article on Edo period secularism for some arguments against seeing secularism as an entirely modern phenomenon). This is not merely the modern perception, for clarity - the earliest statements to that effect can be found in works of literary criticism from the second century or so. The writers were chiefly scholars, courtiers and officials, not clergy, and naturally their works are not recognized as “canonical” Taoist literature. Some of these authors took the topic of immortals into rather peculiar directions.  According to Xiaofei Kang, during the Six Dynasties period amorous encounters with female immortals (仙女, xiannü) were a “fashionable topic among literati”, while in the subsequent Tang period some authors compared courtesans they sometimes were actually involved with to immortals metaphorically. She notes that they effectively created a genre of works focused on immortals which was no longer really describing the pursuit of immortality, but rather “encounters with enchanting beauties, both real and imagined”.

Needless to say, the literature about immortals remained relevant in later periods, and new stories continued to be written under the reign of subsequent dynasties. Many can be found in Pu Songling’s famous Liaozhai (Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio). This collection was written in the Qing period and remains in wide circulation today as a literary classic.

Pu Songling’s tale of Qing’e: the origin of Seiga

Pu Songling (wikimedia commons)

It is beyond the scope of this article to discuss all of Pu Songling’s tales about immortals, but there is one which necessitates further discussion, namely Qing’e, which is very obviously the basis for Seiga’s character. This makes her somewhat unusual among Touhou characters - while the story she is based on deals with religious themes, and fiction can shape religious views at times (as evidenced by the popularity of Sun Wukong or the image of hell in Divine Comedy), I found no indication Qing’e was ever views as anything but a literary character. Like the rest of Liaozhai, the Qing’e tale has been translated into English in the 2000s. Songling’s works have an older and more famous translation too, but it’s just a selection, and it has many issues, which you can read about here. You can read parts of the more modern translation on Google Books. Obviously it can also be found easily in other places. I will also summarize the story of Qing’e below for convenience. This is where the content warning I mentioned applies: the story is not very explicit, but there are is a scene of what I think counts as attempted sexual assault and other generally unsavory moments of that sort, so if that bothers you, skip ahead to the next section. The beginning of the story introduces a certain Huo Huan (霍桓) from Shanxi, a sheltered young man of unspecified age (he’s older than 13 but “ignorant of adult desire”, which is pretty vague). He lives in the same neighborhood as the eponymous Qing’e (青娥), a teenage daughter of a certain mr. Wu (武), who was apparently a devout Taoist. Qing’e secretly read through her father’s personal collection, developing an admiration for He Xiangu in the process. When mr. Wu left for the mountains to become an immortal, his daughter declared she will never marry. Her decision is presumably meant to mirror one of the versions of the tale of He Xiangnu, who reportedly attained immortality by remaining celibate and consuming mineral powders (granted, you can also find versions where her immortal career started when she was seduced by Lü Dongbin, but that does not match the story here).

He Xiangnu by Zhang Lu (wikimedia commons)

Huan sees Qing’e outside at some point and, without really talking to her, decides she has to marry her and asks his mother to send someone to arrange that. she doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but eventually caves in. Lo and behold, it doesn’t work and the Wu family is not interested in the proposal. Huan then meets an unrelated Taoist, who offers him a magical tiny spade (one chi long) used to dig up Taoist-preferred herbs (a key component of the immortality keto diet), which can quite literally hack through stone. This convenient deus ex machina gives Huo the idea to hack through the walls of the Wu residence to see Qing’e. Note that the narrator does not approve of this plan, and calls it an “illegal act”. Alas, it comes to pass anyway, With this newfound power Huan watches Qing’e undress before she goes to bed and then listens to her breathing while she is asleep, as one does with women they saw exactly once before. Eventually he falls asleep himself on her bed. Needless to say, when Qing’e wakes up she is less than thrilled and summons her servants. They assume Huan is a thief, but he tries to explain himself. He’s set free, but the magical tool is confiscated. Since Huan does not know when to quit, he arranges for a second round of matchmaking afterwards. While apparently Qing’e is cautiously optimistic about it this time, her mother is less than thrilled after learning there are now holes in their residence’s walls. She insults the matchmakers, Huan and Huan’s mother. This in turn makes Huan’s mother angry. She apparently concludes that Huan and Qing’e had sex, and declares that instead of damaging her good name someone should’ve just killed them both on the spot. Qing’e is genuinely sad about this and sends a messenger to smooth things over. However, ultimately nothing really comes out of it. Some time later, Huan starts a career as a helper of his town’s magistrate, Ou. The latter is surprised to learn he is not married yet, and after hearing about his unsuccessful endeavors intervenes himself. With the help of other local officials he secures the permission of Qing’e’s mother, and the marriage is officially arranged. A year later, Qing’e arrived at Huan's home. She brings the magical tool with her, and declares that it is no longer needed. However, Huan decides to carry it with him as a good luck charm, pointing out acquiring it was what led to their marriage. Some time later newlyweds have a son, Mengxian, but Qing’e is not interested in raising him and entrusts that entirely to a nurse. After some more time, in the eighth year of their marriage, she announces to Huan that their time together is coming to a close, and there is nothing to be done about this. Shortly after that, she seemingly dies, and Huan and his mother bury her - or so they think, at least. In the aftermath of this event Huan’s mother falls sick, and inexplicably develops a craving for fish soup, which is hard to obtain in the area the story takes place according to the narrator. Huan, as a staunch believer in filial piety, decides to embark on a journey to procure some. He is initially unsuccessful, but he manages to get some from Wang, an old man he encountered in the mountains. The latter also offers to introduce him to a beautiful woman, but Huan is focused on the quest for fish soup and declines.

Contemporary Chinese fish soup (wikimedia commons)

With the power of fish soup Huan’s mother’s health is restored, and when it becomes clear she’s going to be fine he decides to seek Wang again. He does not find him, but after a long trek in the mountains he instead stumbles upon an unusual cave. Unusual because there’s a house inside it. a house which, as it turns out, is inhabited by Qing’e. Qing’e is surprised to see Huan. She explains that she faked her death and in reality a bamboo cane was buried in her place. She concludes that if Huan found her, they are presumably fated to be together as immortals. He is then taken to her father, who as established earlier also became an immortal. The initial reception is positive, but Huan makes a scene demanding that Qing’e have sex with him and keeps clutching her arm when she declines. Qinge’s father intervenes, and kicks him out for attempted sacrilege in his hermitage. Alas, Huan can’t get a clue as already established. He cannot see the house anymore because due to a trick there’s only a cliff in front of him after the doors close, but that’s not really enough to stop him, as he suddenly remembers he has the magical tool with him. He starts digging, and despite insults hurled at him from behind the rocks eventually makes a sizable hole in the cliff. At this point someone, presumably Qing’e’s father, gets fed up, and throws Qing’e out through the hole to get him to leave. Qing’e, to put it lightly, is not very keen on this turn of events. She nonetheless returns with Huan to his house. Shortly after that they moved elsewhere, to Yidu, where they lived for eighteen years. Qing’e at some point gave birth to a second child, a nameless daughter, who doesn’t really factor into the story. All we hear about her is that she married into a local family. Eventually Hano’s mother dies. Qing’e picks an auspicious location for her resting place, and tasks Huan and Mengxian with preparing the burial. A month later, she and Huan disappear, leaving the new adult Mengxian alone. In the final scene of the story, Megxian, who apparently spent the first twenty or so years of his adult life unsuccessfully attempting to pass the imperial examination, meets a certain Zhongxian, and is amazed to learn they bear the same surname. The two quickly realize they’re brothers, and decide to meet with their parents, but they fail to accomplish that since they left Zhongxian’s house in the meanwhile. The narrator comments that while Huan’s actions were “foolish” and “crazy”, everything he had striven for was granted to him as a reward for his filial piety, and then marvels why nobody stopped him and Qing’e from having more inevitably abandoned children. “That’s really strange,” he remarks.

Seiga’s character between ZUN’s innovations and Taoist tradition

Seiga explaining the powers of a hermit; if only there was a term which makes this explanation even more straightforward... (WaHH chapter 12.1)

As you’ve probably noticed, Seiga’s bio in the Ten Desires omake is remarkably faithful to the adapted source. Even her name is just a Japanese reading of the combination of Qing’e’s given name with the family name of her husband. It does not seem that everything unfolded identically in Touhou, though. There is no indication in the bio, or anywhere else for that matter, that Seiga went back after faking her death, and we instead learn that she decided to travel to Japan, since Taoist “hermits” were uncommon there. Additionally, Seiga presumably kept the confiscated chisel, since her ability, which she eagerly demonstrates in Wild and Horned Hermit, is rather obviously a direct reference to the tale of Qing’e. I will admit that while I do not question Pu Songling’s talent and enjoyed many of his tales, I think ZUN’s version is more satisfying than the original, perhaps because from a modern perspective Qing’e is arguably a more compelling protagonist than her husband, and Touhou effectively treats her as the main character in this story. Something that I believe is relatively well known is that Seiga’s entire character is a bit of an anachronism: to encounter Miko, she would need to be alive through the end of the Six Dynasties period already. However, since ZUN adapted much of the tale of Qing’e directly, like her forerunner she idolizes He Xiangnu, who according to legends about her was only born in the Tang period, and attained the status of an immortal in the early eighth century, during the reign of emperor Zhongzong - nearly a century after Miko’s semi-historical counterpart passed away. I do not think this mistake is meaningful. Save for the references to He Xiangnu and imperial examinations, the tale of Qing’e is set in a largely timeless world. I would presume it’s just a small mistake on ZUN’s part, and he didn’t check the chronology while summarizing the part of the story he wanted to use in Seiga’s bio. There is no need to ponder if Seiga’s power lets her travel in time, as the wiki (which, as we all know, prides itself in maintaining “neutrality” and enforcing correct exegesis of the source material, especially Hisami’s bio) does.

There is a further aspect of Seiga’s character which might evoke works about immortals, though I am not sure if this was intentional. As we learn from her entry in Symposium of Post-Mysticism, she “cannot become a celestial due to her personality, but that does not seem to bother her”. The term dixian which I already brought up before designated immortals who were not interested in ascension to heaven. According to Ge Hong, there were actually many benefits to such a fate, and while nominally a dixian ranked below a tianxian (in Touhou terms, a celestial), they had much more freedom. He states that the archetypal immortal Peng Zu, who spent over 800 years on earth, did so because the upper echelons of the heavenly hierarchy are occupied by well established deities, and any immortal joining their ranks would be burdened with tiresome tasks and obliged to act as servants, making their life less enjoyable than it would be on earth.

Peng Zu (wikimedia commons)

Poetry describing the earthbound immortals originally developed in the third and fourth centuries. Parallels can be drawn between their protagonists who reject the celestial bureaucracy with a different class of literary characters popular at the same period - non-conformist recluses who did not care about the mundane, earthly administration. The dixian is essentially a merge between the classical supernatural immortal and the archetypal hermit. This sort of immortality was a metaphor for unrestrained freedom first and foremost. I will stress again that I have doubts about whether ZUN was aware of this when he came up with Seiga, but it certainly does fit her well. Also, more recently, in Who’s Who of Humans and Yokai in Gensokyo he actually says that “she may be the most hermit-ish character here”. I’d hazard that even if he was not aware of this idea before, he probably is now, in some capacity at least. It’s not like Seiga’s status as a “wicked hermit” was ever tied to lack of interest in heaven, as opposed to necromancy, so this does not contradict anything established.

Reception of Chinese tales about immortals in Japan Obviously, ZUN is not the first person in Japan to adapt literature about immortals.Something that needs to be stressed before delving deeper into the topic is that transfer of beliefs, and especially tales, pertaining to immortals to Japan did not constitute the spread of Taoism as an organized religion. It is instead simply an aspect of the widespread adoption of elements of Chinese culture. While Taoist ideas were an aspect of this phenomenon, we know relatively little about how they were transmitted to Japan, though there was clearly no effort to introduce the religion itself in a formal manner the way Buddhism was. This topic ultimately can’t be explored here in detail due to space constraints. but most likely what occurred was gradual introduction of certain elements in informal contexts: through art, Buddhist borrowings or poorly documented individual ventures. The earliest recorded example of reception of motifs related to immortals in Japan is likely the tale of Tajimamori from the Nihon Shoki, which involves a quest for items granting immortality. The much better known tale of Urashima Taro, also preserved in this source, is another candidate, and as a matter of fact was recognized as an example of literature about immortals in the Heian period already.

Ōe no Masafusa (wikimedia commons)

However, our main source of the early Japanese perception of immortals are not the early “national chronicles”, but rather Honchō Shinsenden (本朝神仙伝). Its author was Ōe no Masafusa (1041-1111), an official and scholar from the Heian period. His career culminated when he was appointed to the prestigious position of the governor of Kyushu, though he eventually abdicated to dedicate himself to writing. His work is classified as an example of setsuwa. At the same time it is also firmly tied to the already discussed tradition of Chinese secular immortal literature, and can effectively be considered an attempt at creating a Japanese equivalent of collections of biographies of immortals. Obviously it has its own unique peculiarities to offer too. Masafusa’s work presents an interesting case of fusion of the Taoist-influenced Chinese notion of immortality with Buddhist ideas: the immortals are compared to hijiri (Buddhist “holy men”) and “living Buddhas” (ikibotoke). This is not entirely a novelty, as while Buddhists are absent from Chinese compilations of biographies of immortals, Laozi’s ascent to immortality was nonetheless at times described in similar terms as Buddhist Nirvana, at least in sources from the fifth century. There was also a preexisting Buddhist tradition of legendary long-lived patriarchs awaiting the coming of Maitreya or simply extending their lifespans to save more beings. Therefore, while innovative, this combination of Taoist and Buddhist elements was hardly something unparalleled or contradictory. The selection of figures described as immortals in Honchō Shinsenden is also a bit different than in its Chinese forerunners. Legendary heroes and historical statesmen do show up, as expected. However, alchemists and members of Taoist clergy are missing, since they were not exactly common in Japan. Buddhist monks effectively replace them as the main social group among immortals, though it does not seem religious devotion is the deciding factor. Ultimately there is no clear pattern, not even that of virtuous life: Masafusa’s immortals as a group are not meant to be moral examples, even though some of them are portrayed as paragons of virtue. It seems ultimately what Masafusa wanted to do is present stories he personally found interesting or awe-inspiring, and there was no religious aim behind his work. Some of his choices were actually criticized as inappropriate by his contemporaries, in particular the inclusions of Zenchū and Zensan, who according to polemics were not immortals, but merely devout Buddhists taken into a Pure Land (a heavenly realm created by and inhabited by a Buddha) in their current forms, without reincarnation. This argument follows the well established aspect of esoteric Buddhist doctrine, which enabled the possibility of achieving enlightenment in one’s current incarnation. A total of thirty seven tales formed the original manuscript, though not all of them survive. They range from long, grandiose narratives about figures like Yamato Takeru and En no Gyoja to brief, almost comedic accounts of the tribulations of anonymous figures such as the “stick-beaten immortal” (who learned how to levitate, but only up to the height of one shaku, which meant that he could not even escape children hitting him with sticks) or the “old seller of white chopsticks” (whose title tells you a lot about his economic situation). Only two are ultimately important here, though: those of the semi-historical prince Shotoku, and the firmly historical poet, historian and eccentric Miyako no Yoshika. Simply put, I believe Honchō Shinsenden is responsible both for the portrayal of Shotoku as a Taoist immortal and for the inclusion of a character (vaguely) based on Miyako no Yoshika in Ten Desires.

Honchō Shinsenden’s Shotoku and Toyosatomimi no Miko

The image of prince Shotoku through the ages

Prince Shotoku (聖徳太子) is one of the highest profile figures to ever be portrayed in Touhou, and as such arguably requires no lengthy introduction. He purportedly lived from February 7, 574 to April 8, 622, and served as a regent on behalf of his aunt, empress Suiko. He is traditionally credited with spreading Buddhism in Japan, ordaining numerous monks, writing commentaries on sutras, vanquishing rivals such as Mononobe no Moriya with the help of the Soga clan, and so on. He might have not existed at all, or perhaps he did, but played nowhere near as major of a role in Japanese history as traditionally assumed. The academic debate started a few decades ago, and remains ongoing. Its outcome isn’t really important here, since regardless of Shotoku’s disputed historicity, he came to be well established both as a religious figure and as a literary character. At various points in time and for various people, Shotoku was, in no particular order, the ideal statesman, a manifestation of Kannon, a peerless military commander, a yaoi protagonist and, most importantly, an immortal. In Honchō Shinsenden, Shotoku is referred to as “prince Jōgu” (上宮), though we do get the mandatory Shotoku namedrop indirectly when his virtue (聖徳) is highlighted.. He is actually one of the two only of the listed immortals who can be classified at least vaguely as “statesmen”, the other being Yamato Takeru. For unknown reasons, Masafusa got some details wrong: according to him Shotoku’s father was Bidatsu. This view is unparalleled, and there is no real reason to doubt the conventional genealogy, which firmly positions him as a son of Yomei and his half-sister Anahobe no Hashihito. We learn that his birth was foretold by a dream in which his mother saw a golden figure who entrusted her with a child who will spread the dharma. This is in itself a combination of Taoist and Buddhist elements, seemingly an attempt at imitating a legend about the birth of Laozi, which in turn depended on a legend about the birth of the historical Buddha. Naturally, Shotoku already displayed supernatural abilities as a child. Masafusa reports that whoever touched him was imbued with a “lasting fragrance”. A variant of the well known tale which his Touhou counterpart’s name and ability reference is presented here too, though a key detail differs - Shotoku can listen to eight, rather than ten, people according to Masafusa. This is not unparalleled, and therefore probably isn’t a mistake unlike the unexpected genealogical change mentioned before. A major event from Shotoku’s life relayed by Honchō Shinsenden is an alleged meeting between him and Illa (Nichira), a Korean monk living in Japan. The historicity of this episode is debatable, as Illa died when Shotoku (if he was real in the first place, of course) was only eleven years old. He identifies the prince as the bodhisattva Kannon, and pays respect to him as such. In response Shotoku emitted a beam of light from between his eyebrows, which reflects both Taoist and Buddhist traditions about manifesting supernatural powers.

Illa's alter ego Atago Gongen (wikimedia commons)

Interestingly, Illa responds by doing the same, thus revealing his own supernatural character. We know from other sources that Illa could be identified as the true identity of Atago Gongen, the tengu-like deity of Mount Atago. Bernard Faure notes parallels can be drawn between his portrayals as a foreign supernatural ally of Shotoku and as the human alter ego of a deity with the traditions pertaining to Hata no Kawakatsu. There is also an “immortal of Mount Atago” in Honchō Shinsenden, but his identity is left unspecified. It's worth noting that in Symposium of Post-Mysticism Byakuren and Marisa at one point discuss the existence of “hermit-like tengu”. Illa truthers… we can make it happen if we believe strong enough… Jokes aside, I’m actually cautiously optimistic that Illa might some day end up being the first Korean character in Touhou, at least implicitly. Given the inclusion of references to Hata no Kawakatsu, odds are decent ZUN knows about him too.

In another anecdote, we are introduced to another member of Shotoku’s supernatural supporting cast, the black steed of Kai. This horse is credited with being able to travel the distance of a thousand ri in a single move. This is seemingly an adaptation of a Taoist motif too, as immortals were believed to favor traveling on supernaturally fast steeds, or in cloud chariots drawn by such animals, or to move instantaneously through other means. The fabulous distance of 1000 (or even 10000) ri is conventional, too.

Shotoku traveling through the sky on his supernatural horse (Smithsonian Institution; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

Of course, the black steed (kurokoma) is also the very same horse that served as the basis for Saki. While allusions to this connection is probably the second most common genre of fanart of her, it surprisingly took ZUN four whole years to acknowledge it outside of a track title, specifically through two lines in the vs mode of Unlimited Dream of All Living Ghost. Time will tell if anything will come out of it, I’m personally skeptical seeing as we have yet to see a canon work do anything with the connection between Okina and Hata no Kawakatsu even though it was acknowledged in an interview. I hope I am wrong, though.

Shotoku’s various accomplishments are not described in detail, though Masafusa does bring up his famous seventeen articles constitution and the establishment of Shitenno-ji, and additionally states that teachings linked to the Yuezhi people from Central Asia were associated with it (unique opportunity to justify bringing Central Asian deities like Nana and Weshparkar into Touhou). The final and most important part of Shotoku’s biography, the circumstances of his death - or rather his acquisition of immortality - is only partially preserved. According to Masafusa, one day he simply informed his wife (presumably Kawashide no Iratsume, as opposed to one of the other three wives) that he cannot exist anymore in a “defiled” world and “transformed” himself. It is actually not explained how he even mastered the techniques allowing that, presumably because we are meant to attribute this miraculous feat to his status as a saintly Buddhist. The authors behind the most recent English translation, Christoph Kleine and Livia Kohn, suggest that in the lost final sentence(s) Masafusa might have combined the Taoist take on immortality with Amida’s pure land, but this is ultimately speculative. ZUN actually went for something closer to the Chinese model with Miko - she was explicitly taught by Seiga. The notion of immortals mentoring those they deem worthy to pursue the same path is a widespread motif, and even some of the Eight Immortals gained their status this way. This idea is absent altogether from Honchō Shinsenden, perhaps since it was tied to formal transfer of Taoist teachings. While this is an innovation, I would argue it’s still true to Shotoku legends, considering they are already filled with miracle-working visitors from distant lands, from Illa and Hata no Kawakatsu to considerably more famous Bodhidharma. 

From eccentric to immortal: the literary afterlife of Miyako no Yoshika

Miyako no Yoshika (wikimedia commons)

As I already said, the second tale from Honchō Shinsenden relevant to Ten Desires is that focused on Miyako no Yoshika. He obviously shares no direct connection with prince Shotoku. Or with Qing’e, for that matter. Unlike prince Shotoku, he left a solid paper trail behind, and there’s no doubt that despite having quite a career as a legendary figure, he was originally a historical person. He lived from 834 to 879, in the Heian period. He was a calligrapher, a poet, an imperial official and for a brief time even an assistant to the envoy to Bohai (Balhae). The inclusion of a character based on him in Ten Desires might seem puzzling at first glance, since none of this seems particularly relevant to the game, and Yoshika’s omake bio doesn’t say much that helps here, beyond calling her a “corpse from ancient Japan”. However, I believe Honchō Shinsenden sheds some light on this mystery. In Honchō Shinsenden, Miyako no Yoshika belongs to the small category of literati pursuing immortality, a status he only shares with Tachibana no Masamichi. There are a number of other immortals listed who are neither monks nor statesmen, and can be broadly classified as laypeople, though none of them seem to have much to do with those two. In contrast with figures like prince Shotoku, described as pious sages, the fictionalized take on Yoshika is meant to highlight extreme eccentricity instead. This is an element common in accounts of Chinese immortals’ lives too, as I highlighted before. You might also remember this topic from the Zanmu article from last month. As we learn, Yoshika, who was originally known as Kuwahara (misread by Masafusa as Haraaka, an actually unattested surname) no Kotomichi but changed first his family name (for unknown reasons) and then also his given name because of a poem he liked, decided to become an immortal under rather unusual circumstances. In the very beginning of his career, after spending a night with the concubine of an official from the Bureau of Examination who was meant to examine him the next day, Yoshika decided that his goal in life should be to become an “eccentric immortal”. He passed his official exam without any trouble, with an unparalleled score. Graffiti in the academy he attended proclaimed him the “world’s greatest maniac” (so he comes prepackaged with a Touhou-appropriate title). He attained widespread acclaim for his wit and poetic skill. In his free time, he engages in celebrated literati pastimes such as drinking and sleeping with courtesans (Masafusa does not specify if he wrote about that, like his Tang counterparts did).

Sugawara no Michizane, Yoshika's apparent nemesis (wikimedia commons)

Alas, Yoshika’s career ultimately did not go entirely according to his whims. The beginning of the end was the day when he acted as the examiner of a new rising star, Sugawa no Michizane. The latter has proven himself to be even more skilled than him, and eventually rose to a higher rank than Yoshika. The latter could not bear this perceived offense against him and one day left his life behind to return to the pursuit of immortality. He aimed at the mountains, hoping to find immortals there to learn their techniques. Masafusa does not provide much detail about his further life, but states that after many journeys he evidently accomplished his goal, as he was purportedly seen alive and well a century after his alleged death.

It’s worth pointing out here that this course of events follows a Taoist motif: becoming disillusioned with one's own career, or with earthly affairs in general, is a common catalyst for search of the Taoist way in literature. A point can actually be made that of all the immortals in the Honchō Shinsenden is the most quintessentially Taoist one (despite not actually being a Taoist), the most direct example of the Chinese model being adapted for a Japanese historical figure, with no addition of the Buddhist components. He even resembles the typical image of a Tang scholar-bureaucrat invested in search for immortality just as much as in amorous adventures. This arguably makes him the perfect basis for a character in a game centered on Taoist immortals in Japan, though truth to be told I feel that in contrast with Seiga and Miko, ZUN’s Yoshika does not live up to her forerunner.

Legends about Miyako no Yoshika in other sources, or the remarkable poetic career of Ibaraki-doji

The oni of Rashomon and Miyako no Yoshika, as depicted by Ginko Adachi (Yokohama Art Museum; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

Some of you might wonder where Ibaraki-doji fits into this, considering the pretty direct reference to Yoshika's poetry in Wild and Horned Hermit. Masafusa, as a matter of fact, does allude to one more legend while highlighting Yoshika’s poetic talent, though he doesn’t go into detail. There’s no direct supernatural encounter - a nameless demonic inhabitant of Kyoto’s gate only hears a poem from passersby marveling at it and becomes “deeply moved”, but that’s it. The name Ibaraki-doji doesn’t show up at all, and there’s no mention of the oni finishing the poem, which is a mainstay of later versions. Another of Masafusa’s works, Gōdansho (江談抄), also doesn’t use the name Ibaraki-dōji, or mention an actual encounter between Yoshika and the oni - he merely hears an unnamed passerby hum the poem and comments on it, calling it touching. However, the Kamakura period collection Jikkinshō already presents the version which gained the most traction in the long run, with the poem being a collaboration between Miyako no Yoshika and an oni. He later recites the full composition to Sugawara no Michizane, who is correctly able to point out only some of it is Yoshika’s own work, while the rest was added by an oni. However, once again, the name Ibaraki-doji is nowhere to be found. On the other hand, while the story of Ibaraki-doji can be found in Taiheiki and other similar sources, it takes place far away from the capital in these early versions. The location was changed in noh adaptations of the legend to Rashomon, presumably due to its preexisting associations with supernatural creatures. By the time Toriyama Sekien published one if his famous bestiaries, Konjaku Hyakki Shūi, it seems the idea that the oni inhabiting this gate who was encountered by Yoshika and Watanabe no Tsuna’s nemesis Ibaraki-doji, who fought him there, were one and the same was already well established. Note that Sekien’s description of the oni of Rashomon actually doesn’t use the name Ibaraki-doji, though we do know he was aware of it.  It’s worth noting that the oni of Rashomon seemingly had a broader interest in fine arts, since there is also a legend in which he meets the famous biwa player Minamoto no Hiromasa and shows him his own skills with this instrument. However, this is ultimately not directly relevant to Yoshika, so you will have to wait until the next article, which will cover Shuten-doji and Ibaraki-doji in detail, to learn more.

The oni of Rashomon, as depicted by Toriyama Sekien (wikimedia commons) Bibliography

Bernard Faure, From Bodhidharma to Daruma : The Hidden Life of a Zen Patriarch

Xiaofei Kang, The Cult of the Fox: Power, Gender, and Popular Religion in Late Imperial and Modern China

Zornica Kirkova, Roaming into the Beyond: Representations of Xian Immortality in Early Medieval Chinese Verse

Christoph Kleine & Livia Kohn, Daoist Immortality and Buddhist Holiness: A Study and Translation of the Honchō shinsen-den

Michelle Osterfeld Li, Ambiguous Bodies. Reading the Grotesque in Japanese Setsuwa Tales

Masato Mori, "Konjaku Monogatari-shū": Supernatural Creatures and Order

Masuo Shin'ichirō, Daoism in Japan (published in Brill’s Daoism Handbook)

Leslie Wallace, Betwixt and Between: Depictions of Immortals in Eastern Han Dynasty Tomb Reliefs

[ineffable-endearments]

Exactly what are the different exactlies?

During this season, it's pretty clear that Aziraphale and Crowley both adore each other and humanity and want very much to be together. It's also pretty clear that, even before Heaven came and made Aziraphale an offer he probably couldn't refuse, he and Crowley weren't quite on the same page regarding...well, just what they are.

What the heck? How can their feelings be so mutual and so out of sync?

Well, I always said Aziraphale was the collectivist and Crowley was the individualist, and Season 2 has only made me more certain of it. These sound like such boring and dry concepts, but they get to the heart of even their most extreme issues - for example, Aziraphale's denial about Heaven as a dangerous place originates with his incredibly deep-seated need to believe in and belong to a collective.

At his worst, Aziraphale can subsume Crowley - jumping so enthusiastically on the "our car" bandwagon that he changed a bunch of things about the Bentley is an excellent example of how he was basically ready to assimilate Crowley into his own identity. And, of course, had he actually brought Crowley back to Heaven, that, too, would have taken away everything that makes Crowley himself. This is Aziraphale being a "rebound mess," feeling at loose ends because he's lost his sense of belonging with Heaven and wants Crowley to meet all these newly-dangling emotional needs.

But at his best, Aziraphale helps connect Crowley to others and to the world. He's usually the one introducing individual humans to Crowley. He gives Crowley excuses to be helpful, both to him and to others. He pulls Crowley into fun, more pleasurable human activities, like eating oysters at Petronius's and watching Shakespeare plays, when Crowley is having trouble seeing anything but work. At the end of both seasons, Aziraphale has been the one who insisted on actively pushing for a greater cause.

Of course Aziraphale was drawn back into Heaven. Whether you're considering his weakest points, like his need for approval from anyone he believes has authority, or his strongest, like his genuine wish for things to be Better For Everyone, he leans into collectives.

At his worst, Crowley can isolate Aziraphale. Aziraphale is sort of Crowley's one major interpersonal commitment, and while Aziraphale enjoys this, it does create a lopsided situation where they're each focused on different things. And Crowley loves humans conceptually, but because he wants to avoid the pain of getting attached to mortals, he is pretty quick to let his connections to humans go. While influencing Aziraphale away from Heaven is a good thing, Crowley doesn't have another very strong community to influence Aziraphale toward.

But at his best, Crowley has helped Aziraphale develop himself outside of the corrupt institution that has tried so hard to crush every ounce of conscience and individuality out of him. Many of the Earthly pleasures that Aziraphale tries to draw Crowley toward are things that Crowley introduced him to in the first place! Crowley's individualism encourages Aziraphale to try things that he's been conditioned not to try, and then Aziraphale's instinct for getting attached to things he enjoys can take over.

Of course Crowley has to think of himself and Aziraphale as an isolated unit. That's a clear-eyed view of what they really are in the world of immortal beings.

Now, I've argued before that Heaven is all about the Collective and Hell is all about hard-scrabble individualism. We have these two Sides, one of which demands its angels give up all individuality and follow the group at all costs, and the other of which demands its demons constantly fight for their own survival with a desperate scarcity of space and resources.

It's through time on Earth and the things they admire about each other that Crowley and Aziraphale have become different from Heaven and Hell, respectively. Aziraphale is thrilled to have discovered himself, someone who exists outside of Heaven. Crowley, meanwhile, is thrilled to connect with someone else in a gentle, intimate way that Hell would never allow. But Aziraphale still has that need to Belong baked in, and Crowley will always need to be his own boss with his own priorities.

Fortunately, there is a "side" that is really very good at creating smaller, more intimate groups within larger societies, fulfilling both needs, and that is Humanity.

[techramonic]

Descent to Death and Destruction: A comprehensive analysis of “Zero-day”

Disclaimer: This post is not meant to glorify or romanticize the film and the event it is based on. My heart goes out to all affected by these types of events, thank you.

“I am become death, destroyer of worlds.” a phrase originating from a portion of Lord Krishna’s dialogue from the Bhagavad Gita. With an archaic English structure, formed using the auxiliary verb “am” instead of “have”, forming a poetic expression that transcends grammatical correctness.

Saying “I am Death” emphasizes embodying death itself, a state of destruction, but it negates the process of becoming. Conversely, “I have become Death” focuses on the process of becoming but nullifies the state of already being. However, by saying “I am become Death,” you actively encapsulate both the process of undergoing and the current state of becoming. This means you have undergone and become one with creation and annihilation.

This concept can be applied to analyze the characters of “Zero Day,” the fictionalized troubled teenagers Andre Kriegman and Calvin Gabriel, who meticulously plan a school massacre. Throughout the film, each character undergoes a transformation fueled by hatred.

Firstly, Andre exemplifies the process of becoming and the active presence of becoming itself. Plagued with suppressed temperamental issues, Andre undergoes a plethora of emotions like any teenager has over the world and the uncontrollable circumstances that affect him. Yet two remain most prominent — anger and hate.

His meticulous planning creates a new layer of detachment, an approach that sees purpose in destruction due to the inherent lack of purpose other than vengeance. With constant efforts to alienate himself because he has already actively experienced it his whole life, Andre’s sense of identity develops from being victimized into being the perpetrator, a role distinct as a mere harbinger of death. Andre sees this as the foremost desirable identity, the immortalization of oneself as a destroyer. From the constant detachment from the world because of the understanding that no one has the capability to understand him, even if he does not understand himself, he undergoes the metamorphosis of becoming destruction itself. When he does finally become it, he has achieved a sense of purpose.

In contrast, we observe the opposite with Cal, where he does not focus on the process of becoming death but rather being death itself. There is complacency in trusting Andre’s plan with an underlying ideology of fulfilling his purpose, death. Death that is all-encompassing, both for those around him and himself — where this destruction not only consumes others but ultimately himself. Unlike Andre’s active pursuit of purpose, Cal is well aware of the fact that he does not have one, and with that, he accepts what Andre has to offer, believing it will give him one. As the film progresses, he embraces the role of the destroyer, indicating a loss of his former self and the complete adoption of his new, destructive identity. In following Andre, he unconsciously gains the purpose of a destroyer, however, it is still void for him to ever have one, hence why he killed himself after the event. Ultimately, this portrays his loss of sense of self in trying to find a sense of self.

In the context of Andre and Calvin, they do not simply perform an act of destruction; they become embodiments of destruction itself. This transformation is not a fleeting moment but an irreversible process leading to the massacre. The parallels between the phrase and their characters suggest their disconnection from normalcy and humanity. Andre and Cal are now unrecognizable, stripped of the humanity and identity they ever had; they are now “Death,” signifying a complete and terrifying metamorphosis.

This movie exemplifies the psychological impacts and effects of being mentally disturbed and unable to be helped. Where people experience a trauma so deeply nestled within them that it hinders them from recognizing the idea of getting better and moving on. They remain in perpetual limbo, filled with self-deprecation and hatred of others. Though the traumas they have faced are not easy to cope with, the denial of change and empathy intensifies the destruction felt by their torment and ultimately allows it to consume them whole.

They are now met with the very destruction they are affected by and consumed by it whole. Now having simultaneously become death and are death at this very point on.

They are become death.