#reading fics as if it's a religion

[snugglechase]

Should I start AHB! now or wait for my mental health to stabilise itself........the never-ending debate

[moonyinpisces]

i want all meta writers and/or people with s3 predictions to please. pretty please. write the fic. otherwise SO MUCH is being lost in translation in your explanations and your 15k theories with screenshots and sources in a format that would rival my grad school essays. like have you heard “shakespeare must be performed not read”? that’s the exact same principle with s3 predictions. all the academic writing and web weaving posts in the world won’t accurately depict what you’re seeing in your head, it HAS to be experienced in practice both on the writing end and the reading end. JUST WRITE THE FIC!

[itsdefinitely]

hey don't cry. the jeri/rys will never be able to share simple human intimacy. they'll never get to hold hands. why are you crying louder

[doomspiral]

Reading ur religious texts (whichever) can also be fic research if ur totally insane

[holysaintscathedral]

"You're tempting me." Well fuck me now then, Father. What are you waiting for???

[auspicioustidings]

The Eyes of God

Summary: You are a researcher separated from your group and hypothermic in the mountains. It would be better you had died than be taken into the remote Monastery nearby.

Words: 1.7k

CW: Catholic horror, non-con (for context there is oral sex that is very much unwanted, starts with reader unconscious so somnophilia), exploitation, non-con medical procedure, mentions of cannibalism.

He sends out his command to the earth; his word runs swiftly. He gives snow like wool; he scatters frost like ashes. He hurls down his crystals of ice like crumbs; who can stand before his cold? Psalm 147:15-17

--

The blizzard had come without warning to steal away all of your senses. There was no sight but for the white in front of you, no sound but for the howling cold, no smell but that of ice, no taste but your own dry fear on your tongue and no feeling at all. How long had it been since you had been separated from your group? Seconds, days?

You knew the signs of hypothermia, had trained for the harsh conditions of this unexplored mountain, but your memories of it all scattered to the corners of your feebled mind as you shuffled slowly and aimlessly forward. Every step was a fight against an impossible foe, God like it it's strength. There was something in the white, a glow. You needed to reach it, you needed to reach it more than you needed oxygen.

Everything is too hot, you are burning.

--

Your nakedness shall be uncovered, and your disgrace shall be seen. I will take vengeance, and I will spare no one. Isaiah 47:3

--

"What have you brought before the eyes of God?" Alejandro asked of the man holding a naked figure tight to his chest.

"Wis hunting Father, as ye had asked" Soap replied, "found this woman naked in the snow."

Soap had found you as you started to tear at your clothes. He had watched. The temptations of the flesh had come unbidden to him, blood thickening his cock as your pale flesh met the deathly cold skin to air. It was kindness in the Lord's name to save you; at the Monastery they could cleanse you of this sin, of your whoredom. Make you clean so you could meet your end in a state of Grace. That was what he had told himself as he held you tight to his body, thinking if he could make you one flesh to save you from this cold he would.

"You've brought us something sinful Brother" Rudy said, emerging from the shadows and gazing hatefully at your nakedness.

"He has been righteous no Rudolfo? Something sinful is ripe for purification of the flesh and soul" Alejandro said, coming closer to run a hand up your arm and delighting in the coldness of your skin. A challenge from above he thought, sent to them on the brink of death to bring back and make whole.

"Of course Alejandro. Leave her here then, that we may make her well first."

Soap did not want to leave you with them. He knew that the Fathers could be cruel to sinners, they were so very cruel to him. He knew it was to serve a greater purpose. The unworthy and sinful must endure mortification of the flesh. But you were so soft and delicate in his arms, so decidedly feminine in comparison to everyone here. Did Adam feel like this when he willingly ate the sin offered by Eve?

"By one man's disobedience the many were made sinners. Is this pride Brother? Alejandro, perhaps we should call upon Ghost, ensure this is not able to spread as a sickness."

Soap felt the holy fear of God then. He loved Ghost as David had loved Jonathan, the covenant between them unselfish and everlasting. He felt at his most tested when he was called to watch him be purified. The last time Soap had disobeyed, the Fathers had hung Ghost on a hook and in the end taken a rib as God had taken Adam's rib. Only Ghost had not been deeply asleep as Adam had. His anguish had been loud and still tormented Soap even now after the place had been closed up with flesh.

He looked down at you, your eyes slowly blinking now that there was heat infusing into your skin. Perhaps this is what the Fathers had done with that rib, created another test for him. He laid you gently, reverently, on the alter.

"There now, it is not pride Rudolfo, merely care. By one man's obedience the many will be made righteous. You may go Soap, go to Ghost and pray."

Soap bowed his head in thanks before leaving. Ghost would be preparing his catch by now, no doubt he would have followed orders exactly and hunted down your group properly unlike him in his weakness for you. The Fathers had been diligent in teaching Ghost Genesis 9:2-3 after all.

--

So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire. James 3:5

--

The first thing you felt was pain, followed swiftly by panic. You blinked rapidly then slowly, willing your brain to connect properly to your optic nerve and process where you were.

Staring at the ceiling. You felt your body on a hard surface, you were laying down. There was an unbearable pain in your chest and as you tipped your head forward to look you started to whine on each of your quick exhales, terrified. There was a tube piercing into your flesh, liquid flowing through it. The pain was dull and throbbing. You were completely naked, your skin illuminated and glowing from the hundreds of candles surrounding the alter you were laid on.

And then the true horror of it, two men dressed in the garb of priests, lapping languidly between your legs.

The third feeling was the perverse pleasure that came from their tongues on you. The animalistic sounds of wet lapping against slick folds. Your body did not feel like your own, your movements sluggish and heavy against your commands. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope and trying to see the original image, a sickly feeling of futility. Still, you stubbornly willed your panic to aid you and focused on lifting a hand to push away the men.

One of them lifted his head, chin dripping with you. In your delirium you swore his eyes were fully black, his teeth sharp and oozing ichor. Perhaps in any other scenario he would be handsome, a young man looking at you from between your legs. But not this one, not in the scenario where your hand finally reached his head to give a weak and pathetic push. Not in the scenario where he grabbed your wrist and twisted so hard it made you forget the pain in your chest.

"And if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off" he said, his voice ricocheting off of your skull and echoing there. It was too loud, too quiet, too soft, too rough. "Is that you yearn for? For me to relief you of your sin?"

You cried then, knowing deep inside you from his smooth grin that he would cut pieces off of you and consider it holy.

You are in a nightmare and you cannot wake up.

The hand dropped away to your side, terrified into submission. He went back to his task and now that you were conscious the rough texture against your clit made you want to throw up. You hated that it distracted from everything, that it felt good. Perhaps it was because the two of them were so close to one another in their efforts, but it felt like something wet and forked against you.

Maybe you could see salvation if you looked around, something to focus on other than the twisted flesh of your body and the twisted pleasure given by those pressed against it. Instead your eyes only landed on figures in the shadows.

Two men. One older and one younger. Looking on with something between horror and eroticism. The younger of them set his eyes to the ground when you caught them and sobbed out for some sort of help. The other took him by the scruff of the neck, pressing a forehead to his and mumbling something about Peter 5:8. After a moment they both returned to watching in silence. You could see it in them, the same fear you felt. The fear of something judging and all powerful bearing down.

It was as if the men lapping at you knew of your fear, as if they took pleasure in those who feared them. Their clever tongues were all at once precise and messy, forcing your body to ascend to a peak your mind found repulsive.

You came like it was written in scripture that you must; inevitable, horrific and erotic all the same.

"There now, warmed by the light of the Lord" came a voice. You felt your eyes move to the source against your will, seeing the second man now and feeling a primal fear at his face, blacked out with a golden painted skull catching the light. Below his chin was smudged obscenely.

He reached up and for a moment you thought he might caress you gently. In your state, you felt greed for such a gesture. The noise that left you was inhuman as he pulled the tube from your chest.

"Brother Price, fix up our guest and take her to her cell won't you?"

Price did as he was told, Gaz in tow. He wondered what name they would give a thing like you. You would be quick to learn the ways of this place he thought, not like him or the others. It had taken so much to redeem them into something that might see the Grace of the Almighty one day. He did not want that for you. He knew with certainty that Gaz did not either, the man had nearly went into a state of sin watching you. Price knew better than to feel anything like Pride, but at the very least he was pleased that he had been able to stop him from going to you for comfort.

It was such a wicked thought, but in his heart he felt it would have been better for you had Soap taken you for meat rather than for saving. It was a difficult and painful thing, being saved by the Fathers here.

--

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Peter 5:8

But the one who endures to the end will be saved. Matthew 24:13

[tsururoach]

Miseternea for my oneshot "For Mercy Has Arrived." on ao3.

Between unfinished rituals and broken names, Misericorde finds Eternea again on a plane that's not quite reality. AU

There is no value in a name, after all.

[literallybyronic]

>be me >finish DAI and need a break >remember i wanted to refresh/analyze my fav author's dialogue style since i had been having trouble formatting my own >pick a random novella i remember liking but haven't read for many years and almost entirely forget the story of >it's the most solavellan coded literature i've ever read in my fucking life right down to the antagonist/deuteragonist/love interest being a guy who wears a wolf cloak and turns into a wolf who made a terrible mistake in his past and the heroine losing part of her hand

thanks brain. thanks a lot.

it's available to borrow on internet archive if you would like to torture yourself enjoy a good little read from an amazing author. (it's the 2nd story, starts on p. 125)

[nextstopparis]

longfic writers from 2010 fandoms with vast knowledge and really long authors notes explaining your research/knowledge and choices to put certain things in and stuff i LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. YOURE THE BEST IN THE WORLD. PLEASE TAKE A NOBEL PRIZE PLEASE TAKE A BILLION

[sincerely-sofie]

TW: child abuse and neglect (flashbacks and mentions), blood

•••

Twig learned a myriad of lessons before the few weeks she spent looking for the pair of siblings.

For one, Opal’s friend, disguised as a Gligar when Twig first found her, is actually a Zorua. The second Twig entered the house, the child still nestled into her arms, Opal had rushed to them and pointed out an injury that neither Twig nor Ark could see. The second she saw Opal, Zorua must have felt safe, because the disguised dropped shortly afterwards.

Second, Zorua’s illusions can hide injuries and the blood that came with it. Twig saw the red on her arms before she knew the wound was there. Only Ark could fully see it, and he bristled and recoiled on sight, turning Opal away from the scene and telling Twig “we need to get her help she needs it now Twig-”

The third thing she had learned was that whenever you think you’ve learned the maximum amount of stitches someone can have, know that there could always be more.

Fourth, you can be in a similar position as the child you saved, but still can’t answer your daughter when she looks at you with terrified, distraught eyes and asks you why while trembling. You can learn that you can always find new limits to your rage and fear when you hold your daughter close and she asks if this is her fault. You can learn you can find the words, be as outwardly as comforting as you can, but the intensity of the inferno burning inside you doesn’t fade.

Fifth, Grovyle never did forgive himself for Crystal Cave despite what he tells others and himself. Ark had spoken to Celebi, who had come with Dusknoir and Grovyle to go on a mission to hunt the siblings down. They had all gone pale when they saw the child’s state. Twig repeatedly caught Grovyle looking at his own hands and looking back at Zorua, and she can see the nausea brewing inside him as his mouth tightens. Zorua is much younger than Kip was that day — only a few months behind Opal.

She’s younger than Opal.

Six, miracles actually do exist beyond time traveling shenanigans, because Zorua pulls through. She is covered in bandages, her body is skinny, she is lethargic and tired, but she has defied all the odds and she’s alive.

Seven, she learns there are even more levels to her rage when Zorua immediately looks around wildly and then begs Twig not to tell her siblings she was here and that they’ll be upset if she doesn’t come back soon.

Eight, Opal, Lucky, Manaphy, Spindle, and Bud are more emotionally intelligent than Twig gave them credit for. They introduced themselves slowly and separately without complaint. They go at Zorua’s pace. Gradually, Zorua gets more comfortable, and there are mornings where encouraging her to come out of hiding is less difficult.

Nine, Zorua’s name is Ruby, but she can’t speak of her siblings without trembling. Reassurances that those two won’t even get near her again only do so much.

The tenth and final lesson Twig learned was that there is a point where you’re so angry you can’t feel it anymore. In the months that Ruby was recovering, no one had heard a thing about anyone looking for her. Grovyle tells her that in the times he’s checked Boulders Quarry, no one came back in search for her. Dusknoir confirms this. The siblings are no where to be found, or at least, they are, but they have taken on a different appearance and still aren’t even making an attempt to look for Ruby.

It’s one week, then two, then three, and Dusknoir makes the comment that the siblings have somehow made themselves harder to track down than Grovyle did in the Dark Future and present. They know they’re looking for two Zoroarks — Opal had confirmed as much — but things are more tricky when said species can illusion themselves as other Pokémon. Dusknoir suggested spreading a rumor that a little Zorua had been found and wanted to find her siblings again, but said siblings didn’t seem to take the bait. There was no way that they were going to make Ruby help in the search, and Twig had murdered the offer that Opal gave to help hunt them down. It would be over her cold, dead, unfeeling body before Twig ever let any children near those monsters.

It’s towards the end of the week that Ruby and Opal wake Twig up in the middle of the night, both transformed into Charmanders and holding hands, that they finally get something to blow open the case.

“They wanted me to go to another town,” Ruby whispers, squeezing Opal’s hand. “They’re going to be mad I didn’t make it and stayed here. They’re going to be really, really mad when they come back. They’re going to come back and take me away- and I don’t- I don’t wanna-”

“Ruby,” Twig’s voice is soft and firm, “I promise, nobody here will ever let them take you. They’re never going to hurt you ever again.”

“But what if they break in?”

Twig almost frowns, but she immediately schools her face into something cool, “do they break into homes a lot?”

Ruby slowly nods her head, looking at the floor, “they’ll look for a while, and when they find me, they’ll watch to know when the best time to break in is. Then they’ll grab me, and-”

She chokes and trembles, her eyes start going far away, staring into an abyss no one else can see. They are only stopped by Opal’s gentle squeeze and Twig’s words.

“It’s okay, they won’t,” a soft smile follows. “Do you want to stay near me for the rest of the night?”

Both Opal and Ruby are curled up beside her in that next moment. Ark comes into view, holding more blankets and pillows. He approaches, gently tucking in the kids and then whispers to Twig.

“I relayed Ruby’s words to Celebi and she passed them along to Dusknoir. He said three days.”

Something sparks up inside her, she’s unsure what it is, but it keeps her up all night as she waits.

***

Three days, and Opal yells “Mother! Dad! I had a nightmare! Come here!” and then as soon as they arrive, she points to the window while never taking her eyes off them, “we need to get rid of that window, Monsters can get in!”

From the corner of her eye, Twig sees it. She sees the silhouette of someone move away just a second too slow for her to miss it.

“Stay with them so they’re safe,” are the only words she gives Ark before she turns on her heel and marches out the door. The Gardevoir and Gallade wave to her from their house, then turn back to speak to one another.

Twig knows that Gardevoir and Gallade would be asleep and staying indoors if they had awakened this late at night. Twig knows that Gardevoir and Gallade wouldn’t be whispering insults about Opal, promising to make her shut up for good if she gets in their way. Gardevoir wouldn’t whisper the words, “that brat is really going to get it once we get to her. I swear if she said anything I’m going to tear off all her fur.”

Twig marches up to them, grabs their arms, and yanks. Her grip is so harsh that “Gallade” squeaks and then joins “Gardevoir” in yelping when Twig pulls them. They stumble, almost tripping over themselves as the illusion finally gives way and reveals two Zoroarks. They look at her, and whatever irritation or defiance they had vanishes into dust as they gave into her eyes, illuminated by her brightly burning, purple flame on her tail.

Twig feels it. She feels the fury, pain, despair, and pure hatred that were building up over months, but had nowhere to go. The plan to have everyone surround the siblings and bring them to justice goes out the window, and Twig is positive that Ark is probably trying to make contact with Celebi so that there isn’t a double homicide. She doesn’t care.

“Six months,” she seethes. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for six fricking months — looking for six months. You hurt your sister, threatened to hurt my daughter, planned on hurting your sister again, tried breaking into my home — I’m going to tear you both apart.”

•••

Sorry it isn’t the best and I know Twig, Ark, Grovyle, and Dusknoir — actually, probably all of them — are probably ooc, but I hope it’s still a fun read!

Also, I chose Ruby for the name of the Zorua because I thought it fit at the time, but halfway through writing this I felt like it didn’t but I didn’t know what I would change it to. Feel free to rename this character — the fic is for you, so I feel like you should have most say in this. I also chose Zorua because I thought it would be cute if Opal had a friend who could also “transform” into different Pokémon.

It wasn’t at all too triggering— it was just so amazing that I was taking ages to finally gather my thoughts and react to it! It’s so poignant and impactful in all the most profound ways it could possibly be that I was absolutely flabbergasted by it all, and along with the gift of a new character I wanted to give it the thoroughly grateful response it deserves. I’ve reread it throughout the days since you sent it in and every time it left me floored by emotion. I’m sorry for not replying sooner— the writing is so impactful that I think I kind of forgot that the author might be worried about my silence indicating the subject matter upset me. I was too busy having stars in my eyes whenever I thought about it.

I want to make art of Ruby + a profile for her to go along with this, which is the main reason I’ve been taking a while to respond— but I want to reassure you that you did nothing wrong whatsoever, so I’ll give an art-free response now and make Ruby’s profile later!

The characters are all represented in such lovely ways, and the pacing and prose are both absolutely astounding. This was a phenomenal piece and it’s been keeping me company as I’ve come down with a bad cold— I’ve been feeling severely under the weather, and this fic has been a silver lining amidst that. Ruby is precious, and I’d kill for her… actually, hang on. Move over Twig, I want to get a few punches in.

Thank you so much for this fic! I’m sorry for the anxiety you must have felt in the time I didn’t respond— rest assured that this is something I adored the second I received it and will treasure forevermore :>

[toromancer]

asleep or dead. a companion piece for BBB 2023

[902186]

we dont have enough fanart and fanfics about sauron in numenor. im begging for scraps im manifesting im sending signals to the universe

[sisterdivinium]

You know, for a show with so many female characters that so many of us love given how they all get time in the spotlight one way or another and they fill that time up rather wonderfully since they are deeper and more developed than what we're used to seeing in general media, it is peculiar (to say the least) to see so few "alternative" ships to the main one.

I'm not saying the canon ship doesn't deserve its attention -- I'm wondering instead why the canon ship and it alone seem to guide the WN fans who just so happen to enjoy writing/reading fic or fanart or whatever.

You'd think all these cool women would inspire more ships or combinations thereof, but those of us who aren't invested in avatrice just... Float along, around one another, ignored (and, yes, mostly undisturbed too; being unpopular does have its advantages and that includes a lot less weirdos leaving you strange or awkward messages -- it does not, however, shield us from people flooding our goddamn tags on AO3 with fic that has nothing to do with our little ships and I do wish such negligence of the pairing itself meant we didn't have to deal with this spam...)

I am also not saying that fandom activity should be based solely on shipping (and recently someone on Reddit was rather confused by the fact that a lot of it is, which is quite an interesting topic to discuss in itself -- after all, there is more to fan creativity than shippy fic... Or there used to be), merely that, here, it appears that a canon relationship can outshine interest in the other, non-canon ones. It's already there and it was doubtless well-done by the show, so it's natural that it should claim people's attention, sure. It's just that being canon was never the parameter for whether people were interested in these or those two (or more) characters maybe being involved and trying to explore what that could mean through fanwork.

There has always been a complaint haunting fandom spaces concerning the minuscule amounts of f/f fic, art, discussion, w/e based on how few (interesting or sympathetic or relatable) female characters there are in media at large. So what I'm curious about is why fan creations made around WN -- a show that finally gives us a whole cast of female characters that are what we have been craving for decades -- don't also reflect its diversity.

There are alternative ships (I'm here, all happy in my tiny Doctor Superion bubble, and I know there are Camila/Lilith, Ava/Lilith, Mary/Shannon, Mary/Lilith shippers out there, so a warm hello to you if you're reading this), but go on AO3 and compare the numbers of things tagged with these proper pairings to the grand total of WN stories. Better (or worse) still, do so with the "otp: true" trick or simply by excluding avatrice from the search to see how many are left.

It's... A considerable difference. And a mystery, at least to me.

[t4tozier]

Summary: Jace refuses to roll over and be killed--and as long as he's alive, his god can never truly die.

AKA the “worship is not just measured in numbers of adherence, but the strength and devotion of followers“ fic

[1001galaxygal]

Charles Leclerc is kind of like Jesus if you think about it

[ronnyraygun]

Talia and Baby Jay dynamic make my brain giggle.