#shit maybe i gotta figure out the divining thing now

[alphabetcompletionist]

attention citizens: i have found a most wondrous artifact. a holy relic

i hope they're all in there/26

[threepandas]

Bad End: Poisoned Cups

I hadn't adjusted well, at first. I don't think anyone could have. Being an elf sound cool, on paper. The better eye sight, the incredible hearing, the stamina. All sorts of perks right? But what they don't tell you, is that when your soul is human? When you get isekai'd by some divine oversight or fucker with a truck?

It doesn't adapt that well, to a new body. Your soul INSISTS you should still be human, with all the trappings, and throws a FIT, when you just.... aren't. So you end up with migraines. Eyes that swim in and out of focus. Wheezing, struggling, breathe. A body at war with itself.

The world was so loud. Too loud. I could hear EVERYTHING and it HURT. Couldn't breathe and THAT hurt. Was nauseated all the time, from my eyes refusing to focus properly. That too, hurt. All of it, pain. Just? Pain. Day after day, pain pain pain.

My poor parents were helpless. The doctors struggled.

But the King? HE could save me.

And he did.

He was younger then. Just barely into his rule. His Father having just stepped down. My parents, desperate, brought me before him. Waited in line for days. They didn't even know if he COULD do anything, were grimly prepared for him to say that sadly, nothing COULD be done. But? Instead? He looked me over, called for several old texts, looked again, then called upon the strength of the Throne.

My parents apparently started weeping the second I stopped.

All I remember is the pain going away. Being exhausted. A REALLY pretty elf man in a crown. Things getting... better, after that.

I was told that story often, as a child. It utterly transformed our household. From merely loyal citizens, to devote Loyalists. Speaking ill of the King in THIS house? Would now get you HURT. My parents had been convinced they were going to LOSE me. The King as far as they were concerned, saved my LIFE.

Which is why I didn't put anything together. Seeing as we were an "all King all the time" Sort of house. We had one(1) team and we were sticking to it. Permanently. His son? Eeeeh, maybe. We'd figure that out later. We didn't care to know. And I was too busy with school work to CHECK.

Which? Meant I didn't NOTICE? He looked? More and more... Otome Capture Target as time went on. Specifically, he looked kinda crown prince from "Dance of the Secret Forest! A True Love For Me?!" sort of Shaped. Which... gee, what ARE the odds? Especially given that so many OTHER things are named suspiciously similar or exactly the same to that game?

.........yeeeeeah. I decided not to take chances.

I looked that shit UP.

And wouldn't you know it? Protagonist-chan? Not there yet. But she SURE COULD BE! All the legends were EXACTLY what they should be. Forests and locations the same! PEOPLE the same! Oh HELL no. Good to know where NOT to be, I guess.

Not my circus, NOT my Otome Drama Monkeys.

I? Would be working for the KING. My family owed him a debt.

And when I graduated? I applied. Top of my class. I studied my ASS off. Could have gone anywhere. But I was aiming for the TOP. A debt to be repayed and frankly? Excellent job security on top of it! So filling busy work in dusty ass backrooms it was. Gotta start from the bottom, after all.

I exhausted them. Was honestly barely trying too at that point. They should see me TRYING to put my nose to the grindstone. Burn the midnight oil! Ha! HA, I say! Long elven lifespans slow you all down! I? Used to live in a capitalist hellscape! This is NOTHING.

I'm not even multi-tasking. It's not even LUNCH YET.

Did I get promoted? Yes. Do I worry my coworkers? Deeply! But shit needs doing and we don't have all day! There is a nation to run! Have some tea. Eat a turnover. Now~! Where are my fuckin documents~☆?

I get promoted again.

Then again.

Aaaaand again.

I'm pretty sure it's cause I scare people. Am FAST. Efficient. Willing to hunt my coworkers for SPORT, like a god damned bloodhound, if it means we get that one extra tax document that makes or breaks us. I have (and will again if necessary) climbed through people's fucking WALLS. Cause, honestly? If they wanted to stop me?

They should have warded the gods damned vents.

Fuckin casuals. Get on my level.

So, now? I am the baby. King's inner circle. And EVERYONE? Is damn near twice my age! And, granted, yes. It IS hilarious I still scare like half the people working under me... but come ON! You are elite government officials! Do BETTER! (Geez. At least my PARENTS couldn't be prouder.)

But... (and God damn it, why is there ALWAYS a "but"?) here's the thing. It? Took me a WHILE to get where I am now. Long enough, in fact, for our... Problem, to arrive. A Problem which is GOING to cast his Majesty's kingdom into chaos and turmoil, in fighting and divides. Religious upheaval. A PROBLEM, which? In the name of luuuuuv~?

Is going to get NEIGHBORING COUNTRIES involved.

And WHO do you think is going to have to deal with that? WHO will have to prevent all out WAR? Religious schisms? Ward off assassins in the night? Certainly not Mr. "But Daddy, I love her!". Oh no, HE gets to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his father's suffering! Make more trouble! (Fucker.)

But, hey! Maybe I should throw in with his SECOND son, right? The supporting character? He seems vastly more reasonable and emotionally more balanced doesn't he? Well educated, cautious, why, thoughtful even! Ha ha... yeah... he DOES seem that way, doesn't he?

SEEMS.

He Is Not. Little fucker is a SPECIAL flavor of batshit. Completely "wake to find him standing over you, in your LOCKED BEDROOM, asking if you want to see his new favorite knife" nutty puffs. Not sure which side of the family it comes from, to be honest. Disturbingly good at getting past my warding.

Or at least he WAS, until I got the King involved. Ha! Royal wards! You can't touch me! I sleep like a BABY now! The only people who can enter my rooms now? Are literally JUST me and the KING HIMSELF! How safe is that~‽

But for real... poor his Majesty, you know? It's not like he didn't TRY to be a good father. Take time he couldn't afford out of each day, to spend time with his sons. Insist on eating meals together so he could ask them about their interests, how each day had gone. Involved them where he safely could.

He's a somber man. A dignified one. But let NO ONE say, he is not a LOVING one.

And HOW do his children fucking reward him? Middle school love dramatics and MURDER ATTEMPTS IN THE NIGHT! Because, YES, I have found the disturbing murder board that the second prince has in his "secret" room. Right along his equally disturbing stalker board of ME.

I, obviously, told the King.

He did not look pleased.

Don't know if my new reality has, like, intensive therapy programs or something? But I hope for ALL our sakes, that the second Prince is at the winter palace getting HELP, instead of just? You know... plotting.

His Highness has a nasty tendency to plot, after all. But hey, his Majesty says not to worry about it? I choose to believe him. Concern myself with more immediate threats. Enjoy, no longer turning around to find some baby faced little creep with a hunter's stare, just... watching me. As I try to work. As I try to eat. Around corners, still as a statue, yet somehow a THREAT, in lonely and too empty corridors.

God fucking DAMN, his little "crush" was creepy!

If it weren't for his Majesty? I would have run and run FAR. But... but I? And you CAN NOT repeat this, okay? It's WILDLY inappropriate! A-And I SWEAR I'm never going to.. to ACT on it! I would NEVER. So...so PROMISE, okay?

....cause.... I may... MAY! Possibly! Just a LITTLE bit! Sorta, kinda, just a BIT? Have a TEENY? Little crush... on... his Majesty? Maybe???

YOU CAN'T TELL!

It's SO fucking inappropriate. Oh my GOD. I hate this so much!? Cause he's my BOSS! And old enough to be my DAD! I SHOULDN'T be so attracted to him, right?! Plus he's the KING! There's definitely a power imbalance there! How would that even WORK?! We would have no future! I don't know the first THING about how to BE royalty. And no one would accept me!

Not that I think I even have a CHANCE! Fuck no! I'm not THAT arrogant.

But, like? A girl can day dream. Fantasize, you know?

Which is why? Having his SON? Be a creepo stalker at me? Kinda the WORST. I've literally JUST discovered I'm into older men! Thanks! BEGONE, zygote! Also, your vibes are RANCID! No thanks! I hated that and am SO glad it's gone. Now? All I have to worry about? Is Protagonist-chan and the political SHIT SHOW she drags after her like trail of destruction.

Why is she involving foreign royalty? PLEASE stop involving foreign royalty! Dukes! Religious leaders! MILITARY LEADERS. Stop "Helen of Troy"-ing your ass through our nice, PEACEFUL, kingdom!!! What the ACTUAL FUCK!? This is NOT A THEME PARK.

I watch, vaguely horrified, as his Majesty finishes reading three (yes, count um! Fucking THREE!) different royal missives demanding three different women of legend, from three DIFFERENT legends, who coincidentally enough? Happen to ALL BE THE SAME PERSON. Fucking Protagonist-chan.

They were from long standing ALLIES.

We could not AFFORD to lose those.

And the FOURTH message? Oh, THAT? That, was from his SON! Mr. "But Daddy! I Love her!" HIMSELF! He wants permission to marry the random woman of unknown province he found in the woods! Could be a foreign spy! Could be a mad woman. Who CARES right? They're SO in love~

Enough to START A WAR OVER IT.

I skip the tasting cups and instead? Bring his Majesty a bottle of the strongest star wine I can find. The sort that could damn near eat through rocks and vaporizes in air if you pour it out. Pain killers too, for what HAS to be a killer headache. Then I hesitate. You know what? Fuck it. I grab a cart. Make a care package.

Paper, ink, the STRONG tea, that special occasions tea (in case he needs a reason to remember his will to live), some snacks, a few shawls in case he decides to work late...

It's worth it, to see the way his stressed face relaxs when I return. Eyes softening, corner of his mouth curling up in that tiny, secret, little smile. We can get through this. We WILL get through this. I may not be able to stand by his side, but? I can support him. Help.

So long as HE sits in this office, burning himself down to keep this nation warm, so too, will I.

Tea or booze, your Majesty?

"A blend, I think. Unfortunately, I fear it is going to be a long night for us both." He replies. His voice smooth and low, effortlessly filling the room. A lifetime of public speaking, ingrained so very deep. "You should pour yourself a cup as well, my dear. Sleep will be a long time coming, we will need both the calm and the clarity."

I rolled my borrowed tea cart to the side and got to work. Strong tea and stronger star wine. Certainly a... flavor. Fairly certain such a thing should be illegal. Pretty sure our healers are going to be appalled. But, oh well. Needs, must. One for me, one for him.

He held out a hand. It was a sweeping gesture of his arm, a gentle turn of his wrist. I could never get used to his casual... elegance. The beauty of him. Like a living art work. A dancer. As though he were an actor, striking a pose, about to consider the soul of the simple tea cup. I handed it over, gently and with as much elegance as I could.

It still felt clumsy in comparison.

Yet he still smiled, just slightly. In that way I had learned to spot. Tension dripping away from his shoulders like thawing ice. Running in little rivers like melt waters, as he sat back in his chair, half turning it to face me. A brief moment to relax. Before work begins again.

"Ah... completely vile. Thank you, dear. It's disgusting." He said dryly, catching me off gaurd, and making me damn near snort into my cup. "If it did not work so well? I would never consume this swill again. What a perfect waste of tea and wine. We should invite Yevault."

I laugh. A snirking, snorting, choked little thing into my cup. God, but I've been TRYING to laugh more elegantly. Hell, I've even practiced. But when he catches me off gaurd? I swear to God, I cackle and pop. Like some sort of deranged witch pig. Ow, my sinuses.

"Oh but that's right, Yevault is a healer, on the occasions he takes time from being an unbearable snob. He might actually make us rest, dear. Then where would we be?" His Majesty muses, taking another sip before grimacing at the taste.

I go to respond. Probably some quip about "preferably in bed" or "asleep". Only... only to find my tounge sluggish. My exhaustion mounting, not slipping away. The world has begun to sway. Just a little at first, then notable. My mouth... fuzzy? Prickly. W...what?

His Majesty has begun to frown. Delicately setting down his cup... cup? Something about... a cup... I have taken too long to respond. He rises. Strides in a few, urgent, steps over to where I lean. Against the edge of my assistants desk. Swaying~ swaying~ w-why is the ground... my tounge feels to big. Think? I've begone to drool?

Warm, big hands cup my face. Was slipping forward, to the side. Gonna fall? Not anymore. Up. Hi! Is the king. Hi King. I... I don't feel so good...

His eyes have gone focused and cold. Pretty. Crown begins to glow. Leaves. Gold and gold, a halo of light. From within and beyond him. Power of the throne. Oh... oh I was here before, wasn't I? My bones remember. Like the roots to his great tree, power seeping deeper and deeper into my body, finding imperfections to consume. So... so much LIGHT.

I can not look away.

"Poison, was it? How terribly banal. Do they think me so simple to kill?" There is scorn in his voice. Utter distain. But deep beneath, like the hidden embers of a forest fire, there is rage. "How dare they drag you into this. Bad enough they throw a FIT over some trouble making tart, now they get the innocent involved? What if I had not been paying attention? Or you had taken that tea where I could not see it? Unacceptable."

Like spreading branches, like antlers, the light spread. The hands on my face gentle even as his Majesty's face might as well have been carved from stone. I tried to protest, swallowing thinking past the still rolling nausea. It was my fault! The tasting cups exsist for a REASON. They're supposed to test for things like this. I got too comfortable.

"No." The word slammed down as about an absolute as any sentence CAN. A declaration from on high. The commandment of a king. "It takes far more then simple poisons or common blades to kill me. The power that flows through the Throne insures it. You do not have that luxury. You could have DIED."

"....might still yet."

The last bit, almost a confession, pressed to my brow as he leaned down to press his lips to my forhead. His grip tighter, as though to stop his hands from shaking. My joints were starting to hurt, like I had a nasty cold, and I was already starting to feel feverish. I was starting to drip sweat. Shit.

I tried to stay calm. But... but I was scared. What do I do? Your Majesty! What do I DO?!

"We are going back to my quarters. Work can be brought to me. You need to lay down." He decided after a long moment of deliberation. Something had shifted in his eyes. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Clung to the only trustworthy source of comfort I knew, in the chaos of this moment. "I'm going to take care of you. I have you, dear. Just trust me, darling. I will fix this. I swear it. You don't have to worry about a thing. Just put all of your trust in me, all right?

"Just come with me, dear. Everything will be all right."

"You can trust me."

[marauder-misprint]

Friends

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.4k words

cw: fluff

When Regulus enters the common room, you emerge from your dorm, books and other study materials in hand. Now that you had your nap, you were ready to get all the homework you had been putting off done. Regulus debates telling you about Sirius now. But as he watches you spread out across a table with a determined look on your face, he decides against it. Instead, he stands at your side and leans over the table to see which subjects you’re working on.

“Divination?” he asks.

You nod. “Professor Traumine is checking our dream journals this week and I haven’t had any I actually remember… Care to help?”

“Help?” he asks hesitantly, not really sure what you’re asking of him.

“Making stuff up. What seems like something I’d dream about and then we figure out what it means using the book.” You give him a pleading look. “Please, I’m horrible at making the dreams up. I’ll figure out what they mean on my own.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Regulus pulls up a chair and reaches for the journal you have open.

“Just seeing what you’ve written before. Maybe you can have a repeat dream or something,” he explains.

Between the two of you and the occasional passing friend, you finish the dream portion of the homework fairly quickly. You laugh as you interpret the fake dreams.

“Apparently, there are several family deaths in my future. That’s what, an excuse to miss school or something?”

“Anything about relationships?” Regulus asks, testing the water. 

You give him a sideways glance. “Relationships?”

“Particularly with my brother?” 

“Regulus, I don’t want to talk about him,” you groan. 

He leans forward. “I think you should.”

“Why? What do you need to know?”

“The same question as always. What’s going on between you two?” Instead of sounding accusatory as he had in the past, Regulus sounds arrogant, like he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it.

You shrug. “Some kind of friendship, I guess?”

Regulus doesn’t mean to, but he laughs. Loudly and uncontrollably. You stare at him with wide eyes. You can feel the eyes of other Slytherins on the two of you. You had gone from peacefully working on homework and chatting with those who stopped by your table. Now, he was making a scene.

“What the fuck, Reggie?” you hiss.

“Some kind of friendship?” he repeats back to you in between laughs. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No?” 

“Love, darling, dearest friend of mine,” Regulus starts to say, ever so slightly calming himself. “Sirius came looking for you. Pacing the dungeons, hoping to run into you. Friends?”

“Right. Friends,” you say naturally, as if you were simply confirming that there was a giant octopus in the Black Lake.

Your mind, however, starts to spin. Sirius was looking for you? After you called him attractive again, with many synonyms, to his face, in the purest tone of genuinity, without any sense of tease. After telling him he was a good time. After saying that you maybe should write to him… You curse yourself for having said so much.

“Friends,” you echo yourself despite Regulus not saying anything.

He cocks an eyebrow. “So you said.” Then he smiles wickedly. “Or are you trying to convince yourself that’s all it is?”

“Regulus,” you warn, your voice dropping low. 

“I wasn’t so sure about it before, but I think I’ve played matchmaker,” he says with a smile.

“If anyone has the right to claim matchmaker, it’s Dorcas. Or… or Lupin and Potter. Certainly not you!”

“Aha! So there is a match!”

Your face grows hot. That wasn’t how you meant for it to come out. There wasn’t a match. It was just you realizing that Sirius wasn’t too bad and you liked being around him and he was fun and attractive and he smelled nice and there was something about the way he always had cigarettes with him that he was willing to share and the way he carried himself and… Shit. 

You gather your things in a panic.

“I will, uh, erm, see you tomorrow? I… I gotta go…”

You return to your dorm and hide within the curtains of your bed. Regulus was right: someone had played matchmaker.

---

You avoid Regulus in the morning. If anyone mentions either Black or Gryffindor, you change the topic or leave the conversation. You’re more skittish than usual. You’re more flighty than usual. You can’t seem to focus on anything besides your current crisis. 

Yes, you’re calling it a crisis. 

You manage to survive the day and you’re feeling a little better. You think you’ll be able to hide in your dorm again until you completely sort out your thoughts. 

But then his voice rings down the hallway. Sirius calls out your name. 

“Hey!” he says, running up to you.

“Hi?” you reply cautiously. You didn’t know if you were ready for a conversation with him.

“I-uh, how have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Yeah… good. You?”

The air between you feels thick with things unspoken. You certainly aren’t going to acknowledge it though. You’d rather this be a quick conversation so you can keep your wits about you.

“Going a bit crazy, if I’m honest,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Is that so? What for?”

You start to walk and Sirius immediately falls in step with you. You aren’t sure where you are going, but it feels more natural to be moving than loitering outside a classroom. Depending on where you went, it would also be easier to shake Sirius if you felt like you were actually going to lose your cool. 

“Been meaning to, wanting to talk to you.”

“Well,” you chuckle, “here I am.”

“Right. Here you are. And here I am,” he says, laughing at himself. 

You wait for him to continue.

“I… I… I’m just going to come out and say it. Yes. That’s what I’m going to do.” He swallows thickly. “I like spending time with you. A lot. And I’d like to go on another date with you. To Hogsmeade, to a quidditch game, to the kitchens, hell, I don’t care. I didn’t think I’d need to talk to Regulus again and I really want to, if you want to.”

You stop walking. You clutch your things tightly to your chest. Sirius took a few steps beyond you before realizing that you weren’t next to him anymore. He turns back to you with worry etched into his face. 

“You don’t want to, do you?” he mumbles, looking down at the ground. “I thought after what you said last weekend…”

You take a shaky breath. “No… Shit, no. I do. I mean, I’m not against it.”

SIrius looks up, his eyes sparkling with emotion. He moves closer to you as his worry slowly melts away. 

“You do?”

You nod, not trusting your words. He gently puts a hand on the side of your shoulder.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to faint?”

You take another breath. “Because… I meant what I said. After the party… And I was so hellbent on not caring for you, but, ah, here we are?” You let out a nervous chuckle and tighten your grip on your books.

“Here we are,” he repeats, his lips curling into a smile. 

“But you want to take me to a quidditch game, you’ll be waiting until next term…”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not waiting that long. So, sneak to Hogsmeade? Picnic? Visit the kitchens? I’ll do whatever you want to. I just… I want to spend time with you.”

You press your lips into a thin line as you think. 

“How about a walk? Just like around the grounds or something. And we can stop by the kitchens after?”

He nods vigorously. His excitement is so palpable that you can’t help but smile at him.

“I’d love that.”

“Too bad Padfoot isn’t here to enjoy it though,” you tease. 

“D’you miss him?” Sirius asks with a smirk.

“I miss dogs in general. You do have a cute one though,” you say thoughtfully. 

Sirius chuckles and throws an arm around your shoulder. “I mean, if all goes well, maybe you can visit the Potters and hang out with Padfoot over break.”

“That’s… that’s some kind of wishful thinking, Black. Dunno if we’ll be there after a second date.” 

“Worth a shot,” he says. “As long as you write me.”

“With that quill you bought me? Let’s see how this walk goes first.”

“This walk? Are we doing it now?” He sounds flustered. 

“No. Salazar, no. I have assignments to do.” You pause and bite the inside of your lip. “Tomorrow after class?” 

“Tomorrow.”

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife, @azure-drag0ness, @sunowee, @mysteriouslyperfecttiger

Just a warning for all of you lovely people: I think we are nearing the end of this series. I'm feeling like a max of two more chapters. Thank you for all the love y'all have shown this series - every comment/like/reblog means the world to me

[jessejaredstories]

Relationship Changes

Tony and Salma were, for the most part, your typical Mexican American couple. They had first met at new student orientation when they were placed in the same group together. The two instantly hit it off. They were best friends for their first two years of college until Tony finally asked her out the summer before their junior year. They started dating and from there the rest was history. Tony and Salma just celebrated their five year anniversary too! They were truly as happy as could be. 

However, this was only how it looked on the outside. The truth was that their “perfect” relationship was nothing but a facade. Behind closed doors laid a relationship full of nothing but anger, fighting, and headaches. While every relationship was bound to have their ups and downs, Tony and Salma’s relationship only seemed to be going down lately. But even though they were both willing to put in the work to save the relationship, nothing seemed to be working. Not even several sessions of couples therapy could help! That special spark they had when they first dated was gone, and although Tony wasn’t planning on going anywhere, Salma had already decided she would be breaking it off very soon. After all, if all they did was fight nowadays, splitting up would be the best option for both of them.

One day, after going out to brunch together, Tony and Salma were sitting quietly in the car as Tony drove back to their apartament. Another date had gone to shit. Snide remarks and passive aggression were the only things on the menu that day. As expected, that made for an awkward car ride back home full of quiet tension between the two lovebirds. 

Once Tony pulled up into the parking garage, Salma stormed out of the car without delay. Tony hopped out after her.

“Where are you going!?” Tony called out.

“To shower! You got a problem with that too or what!?” Salma shouted back.

“Aren’t we gonna talk about what happened at the cafe today first!?”

“Why? So you can just ignore everything I have to say again?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t ignore you if you actually had something nice to say for once! All you did is bitch about everything!!”

That last remark made Salma stop right in her tracks. She then turned around with eyebrows furrowed and a face full of disbelief.

“I’M the one that bitches about everything!?”

“YES! Everything I do, you gotta find a problem with it!!”

“Cuz you don’t do anything!! And even when you do, you do it only because I tell you to, not because you want to!”

The two kept bickering back and forth for another minute or so before Salma finally had enough and walked away. Tony let out a heavy sigh as he slammed his car door shut, taking some of his frustration out on the vehicle. He was at his wits’ end trying to figure out how to save his relationship. It seemed like no matter what he said or did, it just wasn’t enough anymore. In fact, it only seemed to make things worse! Unable to come up with anything, Tony looked up at the sky and wondered if breaking up was really the only option left. He hated the thought, but without some type of divine intervention, he knew they were only going to get worse for them the longer it goes on.

Meanwhile, Salma had just hopped into the shower. She breathed in and out as she let the warm water hit her nude body, letting the water melt away any tension in her body. Salma truly believed Tony was the one for her, but it was pretty clear that just wasn’t true. She frowned, but she did not cry. She already cried everything she had, now she was just left with the bitter indifference. Although she was ready to break it off, a part of her secretly wished they could somehow find a way to stay together. Salma wasn’t sure what exactly that miracle solution would’ve entailed. She perished the thought, then proceeded to wash her hair. 

But while both Tony and Salma were busy trying to calm down after their latest fight, their wishes did not go unheard. Because they both expressed wanting to stay together, the universe went to work making a new reality where they could happily stay together. 

The changes in reality began with Salma. As she was about to finish her shower, she began to feel a strange yet strong warmness radiating within her body. In an effort to make it stop, she tried turning the shower faucet to cold, but that did nothing. The warmness grew stronger. Her body began to ache, and she held her hands against the aching parts of her body to apply pressure. 

“Why am I so hot all of a sudden…?” Salma questioned. As soon as she finished that sentence, the changes began.

Salma kneeled over as the body aches grew more intense. She felt the pain in her breasts the most. Salma cupped her breasts with her hands. She could literally feel as her tiddies miraculously shrunk in size! She could also feel tiny hairs start sprouting around her nipples. Within seconds, her breasts had transformed into a man’s chest with a set of firm, well toned pecs— Pecs that looked exactly like Tony’s.

The transformation continued throughout Salma’s body. All the body hair she meticulously kept shaved grew right back in. She could feel the tiny pricks on her skin as the hair grew. Arm hair, leg hair, armpit and even pubic hair all grew right in until she possessed bushes of black hair everywhere. But that wasn’t all, she also grew a well-groomed mustache and beard just like her boyfriend’s goatee. Her once long, flowing hair receded until she had a buzzcut to match Tony’s hairstyle. 

Her body then began thickening with muscle as her body started pumping out testosterone instead of estrogen. She soon lost her curvy, womanly figure and instead gained her boyfriend’s manly, athletic build. And while Salma’s body took on muscle mass, the new hormones began changing her genitalia too. Salma could not suppress her moans as the warm sensations overtook her vagina. Her clit stretched and projected outwards while her ovaries transformed into a pair of hairy balls. They then flopped out of her pussy while her clit finished morphing itself to look like a dick. Everything grew and transformed until Salma possessed an identical set of cock and balls to Tony’s. 

“Ohhh fuck… What the fuck is happening to me…” Salma said in between moans, not noticing that her voice had dropped several pitches in tone as her Adam’s apple grew in. The warm sensations of body transformation left her in a state of arousal. Perhaps if it was the testosterone talking, but Salma found herself wanting to fuck something with her cock as she finished becoming Tony. “He” hopped out of the shower and admired his body in the mirror with a cocky smirk on his face, just like Tony would’ve done. 

While Salma was busy in the shower, Tony was busy in their shared bedroom. He eventually came inside after pacing around the parking lot. But needing a way to relieve some stress himself, Tony turned to rubbing one out while watching one of his favorite videos. “Couple fuck in public at Walmart!” That video was his number one favorite. Although with how often he had been watching it lately, Salma would’ve killed him if she found out he turned to videos to get off.

“Nrghhh, fuck yeah! Just like that…!” Tony said with bated breath. Sounds of fapping filled the room as he got closer and closer to finishing. However, just before he could climax, his own transformation started. 

A heat flash hit Tony like a dumpster truck. He got red in the face and began sweating buckets because of it, but the sudden warmth wasn't enough to deter him from getting his rocks off. Instead, he started stroking his already leaking cock even faster while groaning and grunting sensually even louder than before. While Tony was too busy jerking off to notice, his body began going through a transformation of its own. 

Any body and facial hair Tony had had rescinded back into his pores, leaving him perfectly smooth all over. As his body started producing more estrogen, all of his well-earned muscles grew softer and softer until they were gone. His pecs ballooned outward and his nipples grew in size until he had a nice, perky set of tits. Tony's body then grew more curvy and voluptuous until he had the exact same hourglass figure Salma had. 

"Arghh... oh fuck..." Tony groaned. His heavy, cum-filled balls were bouncing furiously as he kept stroking his cock. He was oblivious to the fact that every guttural grunt he let out was growing increasingly higher pitched. Soon enough, his manish groans had turned into womanly moans too. 

"Ughhh... fuck yeahh... ohh yeah...! Oh my God ahhh ohhh yeahh...!!"

Tony was getting closer and closer to finishing. He closed his eyes and focused solely on getting off. But then his cock and balls started sinking back into his body. Within seconds, his genitalia had transformed into a pussy, moist and wet from Tony masturbating. Obviously without a dick, Tony couldn't stroke himself off anymore. So instead, he turned to fingering himself. Just like Salma, Tony had become a picture perfect copy of his girlfriend and all without him noticing. 

"Salma" filled the room with her loud moans and wet macaroni noises while she kept fingering her new coochie. Then, out of nowhere, Tony came into the room dressed in nothing but a white towel. He took one look at his naked girlfriend, smirked, then dropped the towel to reveal his already growing erection. Salma beckoned him by biting her lip and opening her legs wide. Then without hesitation, Tony rushed in and joined her on the bed. He kissed her while he stuck his rock hard cock inside of her. She matched his energy, and the two proceeded to fuck until they both came about an hour later. 

They fucked passionately, just like they did back when they first started dancing. Although Tony and Salma had transformed into one another on both a physical and mental level, they were lucky enough to retain their original feelings and memories. It was because of that sudden literal change in perspective that the two lovebirds were able to understand where the other was coming from. They were finally able to sort out their issues and continued being the lovey dovey couple both in front of company as well as behind closed doors. 

And although the new Tony and Salma have no idea why they switched bodies the way they did, they learned to just forget about it and move on. After all, they were both able to perfectly simulate into their new identities without a problem. Nowadays, the only major problem they have is how to plan a big wedding. Cheers to newly engaged "Tony" and "Salma"!

[ansbobcar]

When will this suffering end for my fanfic to beginnnnnn (big rant)

What I personally like when I write fanfics is expanding upon the universe given to me. In the case of Mashle, expanding and creating new spells in the power system while adding my own characters, probably expanding upon the other magical races that exist in this universe. SPOILERS FROM THE MANGA, ANIME ONLYS BE WARNED

Maybe I'm thinking too deep into this but like I don't understand howwww or when the Divine Visionaries (DVs) joined. There's either some sorta retcon plot from the actual manga to the fanbook to the wiki or something because... nothing is adding up?

It matters to me okay because I'm writing an Orter x OC fic and they're both DVs.

Let me show/explain to you the confusing plotholes/retcons that I don't know how to consider and hopefully by the end of it I can see through the fucking problem.

_ _ _

1. The DV inbetween Rayne and Orter who was killed

In chapter 77, Renatus Revol (the Immortal Cane) revealed to Mash that the DV before Rayne and after Orter was killed and it's implied to have been from Middle School Aged Domina (13-14). So roughly 2 years ago from canon.

This implies that Orter Madl is the 2nd newest (alive) DV from our current lineup. And we can also deduce that the age he started serving as DV is 20-21. BUT WE DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW WHO THE FUCK THIS MF IS?

The confusing thing is that the FANDOM WIKI (idk why I trust it still) states that Domina killed Orter's JUNIOR Alex Elliot(21) (according to the wiki) instead of a DV and basically after that BECAME A DV so that means he was over 20-21 when he became DV BUT HE'S 23 WHEN WE MEET HIM?? Let's assume he was 21 but that means his junior is older than him--YOU SEE WHY I'M CONFUSED????

__

2. Agito Tyrone and Renatus Revol (+ the other DVs)

The fandom wiki's trivia section which is the only fanbook (likely thing i've read) states that these two joined around the same time. There is a big problem though.

Agito is 22 and Renatus is 26. There's a 4 year gap between these two but they joined around the same time...

My logic tells me that if they came together as a pair, it wouldn't be possible for Renatus to have joined when he was 18 because Agito is in middle school. Meaning they would atleast be 19 and 15 respectively. If they came consecutively after the other that leaves the door for some more possibilities though.

However, it's majorly implied in the plot itself that in order to become DV you gotta be part of the magic schools and then later on compete in the Trimagicathlon to figure out who is the new DV of the year.

Like honestly, other than Ryoh, Kaldo (who I firmly believe to be 1st and 2nd longest serving respectively), Orter and Rayne, the others are just verrrrrrryy unknown placement wise.

Don't even get me started on Tsurara. SHE'S 20 AND IDK WHEN THE HELL SHE JOINED!!!!?!? The two ways to counter this is 1) she skipped some grades because as head/part of the Magic Research Administration you gotta be smart, 2) headcanon how many years she was in it even though she clearly joined before Orter somehow ;u;

Why does this matter for me? BECAUSE RINKA's (my oc) BACKSTORY NEEDS THESE MFS IN THERE.

___

3. So what do I have currently?

This is currently the only ass conclusion I could come up with (including Rinka) because shits just confusing man I'm gonna assume that they're like the JJK School system in which for high school they have 4 years instead so that 19-20 isn't unexpected. I kinda wish the plot had a sense of time. That's why and how it's possible for these ages to work (Sophina and Orter hitting 20 is probably to do with their birthdays or entering the year lower, idk man shits confusing). That means Alex Elliot... you're now 19 and a Divine Visionary instead of a Magic Police Cadet or whatever it's called.

_ _ _

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Three)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: We finally get some Charlotte POV! I hope you guys are enjoying this story so far. It's gonna be a long ride lmao

Placebo - Purify

Spacial awareness. So much confusion And it's so difficult to harness But then I look at you, nimble and righteous And then I look at the floor: we made a fine mess

My kiss Can you feel it yet? In the back of your legs? And on the nape of your neck?

Are you a temple? Are you a temptress? There's too much choice, the possibilities are endless So wash away my sins, give me catharsis! Re-magnetize my moral compass

My kiss Can you feel it yet? In the back of your legs? And on the nape of your neck?

Your touch, I cannot regret! I love the shape of your mouth and the back of your head

You're so my kind Erotic and divine! I gotta testify To how you purify

To me you're more than a human You're more complex You're like a fallen angel Who uses God as a hex

My kiss Can you feel it yet? In the back of your legs? And on the nape of your neck?

Your touch, I cannot regret! I love the shape of your mouth and the back of your head

You're so my kind Erotic and divine! I gotta testify to how you purify

The next morning, Charlotte woke up with her body aching. Her bleary eyes fluttered open, confusion washing over her at the unfamiliar room in her sleepy state. Someone lay behind her, but the arm over her waist felt heavier than what she was used to. She glanced down at it, seeing a thick forearm draped over her naked body, sheets pooled at her hips. Ah yes, Simon. How could she forget someone like him? 

She felt so many things at once as she remembered the mind blowing night she'd had with him. It had been an experience and she was 100% positive that he'd ruined her for other men now. She wasn't quite sure she'd ever find someone who could make her feel like he had. It had been way out of character for her to just go home with a stranger and in hindsight, he could have been a serial killer or something. Yet there had been something so alluring about him that at the time, she figured it was worth taking that risk. 

The idea that someone as devilishly handsome as Simon was remotely interested in her made her head spin, but the night before proved he was indeed interested. She had no idea what it all meant if she was honest, so out of her depth that it made nerves bloom in her belly. Just because he allowed her to stay the night didn't mean he wanted her to stick around, maybe he just didn't want her walking home late at night. She really hadn't expected to find herself here when she'd ran out of the club after catching her boyfriend and best friend eating each other's faces in a bar. 

The thought of Ethan made all good feelings leave her body in an instant. She wasn't stupid, she knew the relationship was on the outs and she'd been just as guilty about not doing anything to try and resolve it. The betrayal however, was another story. She'd known Jessica since she left school and got her very first job. It had been at Asda and Jessica, one year older than Charlotte, had taken the girl under her wing. Even after Jessica left to go work at an estate agent’s and Charlotte left to bounce around from shitty job to shitty job, they'd stayed best friends. Even when Charlotte had met Ethan a year later, she made sure to never neglect her as a friend and now she finds out they'd been seeing each other behind her back for over a year. Conveniently around the time that jobless Ethan had accepted a job working with Jessica. She should have known then something was up, given the lazy piece of shit was happy to not work and live in Charlotte's tiny studio apartment for free. 

She knew she needed to go back and pack up all his shit. That was her place, no matter how shitty it might be and she wasn't having him mooching off her anymore, not now she knew the truth. Her stomach churned at the thought of him already being there when she got home. She really didn't want to see him. She wasn't even sad their relationship was over, if anything it was kind of a relief getting rid of him. She hadn't been happy in a long while, but all the lying to her face when the pair of them were probably laughing at her behind her back stung deeply. 

A large part of her wanted to stay in bed, wrapped in Simon's arms. He was so warm and comfortable and she couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed someone's company so much, let alone a technical stranger. She knew she had to put her big girl knickers on though. She needed to get home before Ethan (hopefully) and get rid of his shit so she could get closure. She lamented the fact that she probably wouldn't see Simon again. She couldn't bring herself to wake him to say goodbye, too embarrassed in case he wanted her to slip out without a trace. 

She gingerly moved his hand off her, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, glancing around the room. Her eyes flit to her dress that was in a heap on the floor, her knickers across the room and her boots neatly near the bed, socks tucked in them. It was so sweet it made her sigh deeply at the idea of it being a one off. Ethan had never taken such care of her and she wasn't just thinking about the earth shattering orgasms she'd been given either. As much as she'd had fun, she had to go back to reality. 

She sat there for a long moment just thinking about how quickly her life unravelled. She was stupid for thinking it was ever put together in the first place, she should have known better. She was startled out of her miserable thoughts when a large and warm hand settled on her bare back. Her head whipped to the side, seeing Simon laying on his side, watching her carefully with sleepy eyes and a hand tenderly on her back. 

“What's on your mind, love?” He rasped, voice thick from sleep and her heart faltered in her chest for a moment. Who the hell was this man and how dare he exist. Why did he sound like he actually cared? He still looked as handsome as she remembered him, even mussed from sleep, and she found it completely unfair since she probably looked like a troll right now. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you,” she deflected quietly, giving him a sheepish smile. 

“It's alright…” he replied as his dark eyes glanced over her face in a way that made her feel warm. He sat up, scooching over to sit closer to her with his hand still pressed against the skin of her back. His thumb moved in small circles, a soothing motion that she leant into. His other hand came up to her face and it made her stomach clench almost painfully as he cupped her cheek, moving her face to look at him as those deep brown eyes seemed to assess her. 

She felt like she could get lost in those eyes. They were so dark, yet up close, she could see how rich they were. Hues of green and amber catching in the light of the morning that shone through the window. Her stomach felt funny as they stared at each other, a sensation similar to the time she went on a rollercoaster for the first and only time. 

“I should… I should go home,” she murmured regretfully. She really didn't want to leave but she didn't want to make this more awkward than it needed to be. She felt something between them but for all she knew, he didn’t feel the same way. Why would he? He was so stupidly handsome it was almost painful and she hadn't been enough to keep her ex interested who was average on the best of days. The only reason she latched onto Ethan was because she was young and desperate to feel cared about, never having felt affection in her miserable life. Simon's hand dropped from her face at her words and her stomach dropped. That warmth in his eyes never left though, the hand on her back still glued to her.

“Alright,” it was a simple word and his tone was slightly guarded. She wondered if she was imagining the disappointment she heard, or maybe she was projecting. 

“I need to pack up all of… his things. I don't really wanna deal with him but I want him out of my apartment,” she explained, careful with her wording as she remembered his reaction the night before to her using Ethan's name. 

She cringed inwardly remembering it, feeling heat nip at her cheeks. She couldn't believe she turned into one of those people. The ones that mention their ex when in bed with someone new. He'd seemed angry about it and maybe it shouldn't have turned her on a little, the way his eyes had flared dangerously, how his tone turned hard. 

The hand on her back slid up and up and up, all the way to the back of her neck until it was on the base of her skull, his fingers tangled in her hair, fingertips rubbing her scalp and she was powerless to stop the delighted hum from leaving her lips. Her head tilted back, pressing against his fingers more as her eyes fluttered closed. A cat getting a head rub. 

A noise rumbled in the back of his throat. It was rich and deep but she could spare no thought on translating what it meant when he was massaging her head like this. It was such an affectionate gesture and she was soaking it up greedily. 

“Want me to come with?” He asked simply and when she opened her eyes, head still tilted back against his hand, he was watching her with rapt attention. 

“Like a bodyguard?” She asked with a wry smile, watching how his lips quirked up ever so slightly.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied, removing his hand and causing her to pout. 

“I couldn't ask you to do that. You've probably got better things to do than be my emotional support handsome stranger,” she sighed and he snorted at her, shaking his head.

“Not askin’, I'm offerin’... And I'd like to think after last night that we aren't strangers,” he murmured and his eyes quickly swept over her still naked form in such a way that she felt a deep heat spread into every part of her body. 

“I guess you're right. You played my body like a fiddle, got to know me pretty well,” she mused softly, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. He chuckled at her as he moved around her off the bed and she could do little else but stare at him in all his glory. 

He was built like a god. Like one of those marble statues of Greek gods that belonged in a museum. Her eyes raked over his broad back as he went about getting himself some clothes, her eyes dragging all the way down to his firm arse cheeks. The sudden urge she had to sink her teeth into them made her cheeks flush. 

“See somethin’ you like, love?” He drawled knowingly as he turned back around. He had a clean pair of boxers in his hand but she was more engrossed in his ridiculously large and hard cock that seemed like it was staring at her. How that had fit inside of her was beyond her.

“Do you?” She countered quickly, a teasing tone to her voice as she trailed her eyes back up to his face. 

“See somethin’ I really like,” he answered easily, eyes roaming over her as his expression turned wolfish. 

She stood from her place on the bed, padding over to him and enjoying the way fire burned bright behind his deep dark eyes. She wasn't sure where this confidence came from, how he instilled such confidence she wasn't used to. He watched her intently as she stopped in front of him, dropping to her knees with a dull thud that was muted by the carpet. He didn't say anything but she saw how his breathing hitched as she looked up at him through her lashes. 

She wished she could come up with something sexy to say but this whole thing was far too new for her. It didn't come naturally to her like it seemed to do for him. Instead, she decided to just go for it and grasped his throbbing cock, leaning forward to lick the tip teasingly. He let out a low moan, his hands going to her hair as he gathered it out of the way in a makeshift ponytail in his hands. 

“Fuckin' hell,” he murmured quietly and her lips tugged up a little. There was something so powerful feeling about making a man like this weak for her. She kept her eyes on him as she properly took him into her mouth. He was so long and thick, there was no way she'd be able to take him in all the way. The moan he graced her with made her wet instantly and she wasted no time in bobbing her head up and down on him. She used her hand to cover the base, where he was just too big for her to reach. She loved watching his face as she pleasured him. His jaw was hanging open, a blissful look on his ruggedly handsome face. 

“Such a good girl, love,” he praised in a low voice and she moaned around him, the warmth of his words making her pick up her pace and suck on him more greedily. He gasped, hips bucking into her mouth a little as his grip on her hair tightened. 

“Fuck… ain't gonna last much longer if you keep that up,” he rasped. She wasn't sure if it was a warning to slow down or keep going, but something curled in her belly at the thought of having him at her mercy like this. To be the one making him feel so good. To make him lose his control. She wanted to make him cum, wanted to blow his mind like he had hers. 

She took him in as deep as she could, eyes stinging with tears as the tip hit the back of her throat and it spasmed around him. He let out a desperately loud moan, sounding surprised by the sudden sensation but it seemed to be all she needed to do to push him over the edge. He pushed on the back of her head a little, forcing her on his cock for a moment longer as he gasped, pumping into her as he spilled himself down her throat and she swallowed every drop. 

He used the grip on her hair to pull her off him the second he was done, allowing her to catch her breath. She hadn't expected the roughness at the end but she felt how slick between her thighs was. She'd really enjoyed it. Her chest heaved as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a burning feeling stirring inside of her at the look he was giving her. The hold on her hair loosened and he rubbed his fingers on her scalp soothingly, his heavy lidded gaze turning her inside out. 

“You're bloody perfect,” he mused and she felt the blush creep up her entire body at his words, a shy smile on her lips. No one had ever called her perfect before. She knew it wasn't true, no one was perfect. Not even Simon, who she was sure was as close to perfect she'd ever seen, was perfect. It was an impossible standard to be held to. Yet when he said it, he sounded like he meant it and it made her stomach clench. 

His hand let go of her hair, hand trailing to her cheek before his thumb swiped over her lower lip. She could do little else but stare up at him from her place on the floor, as if she was in a trance. He pulled away, grabbing her arm and tugging her to her feet. She felt drunk almost and she wasn't sure just what about this man made her feel this way. The feeling only intensified when he leaned down, his lips hovering over hers and making her feel desperate to feel them.

“Your turn, love,” he purred, still denying her the kiss he was dangling in front of her. 

“You don't have to,” she replied, leaning on her tiptoes to try and chase his lips but he pulled away. His eyes narrowed a little, head tilted as he looked at her. She could tell he was about to argue with her so she cut him off before he could try.

“Really, it's fine. It was payback for last night,” she shrugged but his eyes only narrowed more.

“You not want me to?” He asked, a wariness to his tone that made her brows furrow. The moistness between her legs was proof enough that she did want him to. 

“It's not that… I just… you don't need to. I don't expect it. I don't wanna be-” she started rambling sheepishly.

“A burden?” He cut in knowingly and her mouth snapped shut. She wondered just when this basically a stranger figured her out so well. It was disconcerting. She gave him another sheepish smile as she blinked up at him.

“Maybe,” she snorted self deprecatingly and he rolled his eyes. His hand went to her throat but it wasn't tight. She could feel her pulse fluttering against his hand as he used his gentle grip to crowd her to the wall, pinning her against it. She stared up at him like he was the second coming of Christ, unable to tear her gaze away. 

“You want me to touch you, sweetheart?” He asked roughly, still denying her the kiss she wanted. His face was dangerously close to hers and she felt her heart quicken at his words and tone. The desire to tell him he didn't have to was dulled to silence as her body flared up at his touch. She nodded, lips parted and pupils blown wide as she blinked up at him.

“Need your words, Charlotte,” he demanded and it only made her clench her thighs together tighter. 

“Yes… please,” she whispered, remembering her manners since he was about to do her a favour and all. 

His eyes darkened at her plea, the hand not wrapped around her throat trailing down her body until he reached between her legs. She parted them for him as if on instinct, a soft gasp leaving her lips as his fingers toyed with the slick waiting for him.

“So needy, love,” he drawled and the roguish smirk on his face made her knees feel weak. He sounded so smug about her reaction to him. Her head hit the wall with a quiet thud as she moaned, feeling his fingers rubbing slow circles around her clit. It was enough to make a wave of pleasure rush over her like a stream of water but not enough to push her to the roaring rapids she knew were waiting for her. 

“Simon, please,” she begged helplessly, writhing against his hand to desperately search out more friction. He was such a tease and he was good at it. 

“Gotta tell me what you want,” he ordered, his breathing ragged as he watched her squirm against him and the wall, her face flushed and eyes wide. She opened her mouth a few times, finding it hard to form the words. She didn't like asking for anything but she guessed that was the reasoning for his torture. As if he could see the struggle on her face, he spoke again.

“Can't help you if you don't tell me,” his tone was teasing, goading, and she whined, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Please,” she whispered, feeling the heat burning her cheeks. She felt him lean in, his lips brushing the skin of her cheek.

“Please what?” He smirked against her and she wanted to hit him, but the feeling of his fingers lazily toying with her clit had her helpless to his mercy.

“Please go faster. Please make me cum,” she asked quietly, embarrassment burning through her entire being. He moaned though, the noise soothing the wounded ego she was suffering and she didn't have time to think about it because then he was rubbing fast circles around her clit. She was so soaked that his fingers glided effortlessly over it, so much pleasure washing over her so suddenly that she gripped each of his wrists so she didn't collapse into a heap. Pure relief tinged her loud moans, eyes closed and mouth hanging open as she relished in the feeling. 

“See what you get when you just ask?” He asked darkly and when her eyes fluttered open, he was staring at her with rapt interest as she trembled against him. She was so close, she felt like she was dangling off the edge of a cliff, waiting to plummet to the bottom. 

“You need to stop seein’ yourself as a burden, love. You’re special. You should be worshipped and treated like you're made of gold,” he murmured against her lips and his words pushed her over the edge roughly. She cried out, her whole body tensing as the pleasure crashed over her like a tidal wave. She could barely register her needy moans over the roaring in her ears. 

He kept touching her until her body slumped and she was glad when he removed his hand instead of overstimulating her. She felt like she didn't know what planet she was on and it wasn't helped when she watched him suck his fingers clean like he had the night before. His words snuck under her skin, working their way throughout her body and taking root inside of her. She once again asked herself just who the hell this man was. 

“That was…” she trailed off with a soft hum, a delighted and content smile curling on her lips and it made him chuckle. 

“Think you learned your lesson, then?” He asked, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

“Probably not. Might have to teach me again at some point,” she replied cheekily and he shook his head with a snort. Finally, he graced her with the kiss he'd been teasing her with and she melted right into him. It was slow and sweet this time and she enjoyed it. Enjoyed the warmth it stirred in her chest. When they pulled away, he watched her for a moment before taking a step back and she instantly missed his warmth.

“I don’t suppose you have anything I could wear? Feel like the walk of shame might be a bit too obvious in that,” she snorted, gesturing to her dress on the floor.

“Nothin’ that’ll fit you, but I’ll see what I can do,” he murmured, flashing her a smile that left her breathless. Fuck, he was so pretty. She watched as he slipped into his own clothes, some jeans and a black long sleeve tee that clung to him in all the right places. Her eyes were studying him intently as he reached in his bedside drawer, grabbing something that caught the light as he slipped it over his head. Dog tags. 

“You're a soldier?” she asked, surprised. She wasn't sure why it shocked her, it made perfect sense now she thought about it. He glanced back over his shoulder at her as he rummaged in his drawers for something she could wear and she decided to at least slip on her knickers while she waited. She could change them when she got home. 

“Army. Been in for five years now,” he supplied and she detected a hint of pride in his voice that made her smile.

“That's impressive. I don’t think I'd last two minutes in the army. I’d probably cry if they told me I made my bed wrong,” she remarked dryly and he huffed a laugh at her, walking over with a bundle of clothes in his hands. 

“Bit sensitive, yeah?” he asked playfully and her cheeks flushed as she smiled with a nod. She was sensitive, she couldn't help it. Life hadn’t been kind to her and it left her self esteem in the minus column. She couldn't handle criticism well, always felt like a personal attack. 

“Maybe,” she grinned and he smiled fondly at her. She took the clothes, examining what seemed to be a pair of black sweatpants and a large black t-shirt. He wasn't joking, they wouldn't fit her, but she'd make them work. She could tighten the drawstring on the pants and tuck the bottoms into her boots and the t-shirt would just have to swamp her. She’d look silly until she got back to her place.

“Thank you,” she murmured gratefully.

“Don’t need to thank me,” he shrugged, leading her out of the bedroom and showing her where the bathroom was. 

Once he left her to it, she looked in the mirror and shook her head at herself. Her hair was all over and she didn't have anything to detangle it. She thought it was unlikely Simon had a comb or brush since his hair was so short. She used her fingers to untangle it the best she could and made it somewhat presentable. Then she gave her face a little clean. Luckily she wasn't wearing foundation as she splashed water on her face. She didn’t like wearing the stuff, it always sat too cakey on her skin so she never bothered with it. It was more eye make up she did to make her eyes pop more. She gingerly wiped around her eyes with some tissue paper she wet in the sink to make her eyes less like raccoon chic until she felt a little less of a mess. 

A dark bruise sitting low on her neck caught her eye in the mirror and she felt a burning warmth settle in her belly as she gingerly touched it. Seeing his mark on her made her feel a lot of things, things she wasn’t quite used to and didn't know how to process. Slipping his clothes on, they felt so cosy and snuggly, the pants were massive on her but she tightened the string and stuffed her feet in the combat boots after getting her socks on. They didn't look too bad after that. The t-shirt hung off her small frame, almost looking like a dress. 

She glanced at the bandada that had somehow stayed on her arm this entire time. Untying it, her arm didn't look too bad, not as bad as she thought it might. It still touched her how he’d looked after her at the bus stop, worried something bad had happened to her. “I’ve heard that before.” He must have known someone who’d been abused before by his words and it was touching to know Simon was out here looking out for vulnerable strangers if they needed it. 

Eyeing her still kind of unruly hair in the mirror, she used the bandana like a headband, folding it up and then tying it around her head. She wasn't too bothered with the small bits of dried blood that would be on it, she hadn't been bleeding that bad anyway. Feeling tons better, even if she probably looked ridiculous in his clothes, she stepped out after doing all her business. 

She made her way to the living area, glancing around the space after only getting a small glimpse the night before. She gravitated to the thin quilt over the back of the sofa just like she had the first time she’d seen it. It was handmade, clearly hand quilted. She wondered what it was like to have someone care about you so much to make something for you. Wondered who in Simon’s life cared for him so much. Her eyes wandered over the few pictures on the walls, noting what looked like his mother in some pictures. Maybe it was her. There was another man in the pictures too, younger looking than Simon but not by too much. 

She took in what she presumed to be his family before her feet moved her around to near the kitchen. Simon’s apartment had an open plan living area and kitchen, the bathroom and bedroom behind respective doors for privacy. On the fridge was a scan, held up by a magnet. She wondered who the baby belonged to. Was it the younger man and the woman he’d had his arm around in one of the pictures? She couldn't help the curiosity, suddenly wanting to know so much about the random man from the bus stop. 

“Put your dress in an Asda bag. Was all I had,” Simon uttered, walking in from his bedroom. He held out the Asda bag, her dress folded neatly inside, but before she could take it, his mouth snapped shut, eyes darting all over her freshly dressed body. 

“You look…” he started slowly, his voice a mere growl, and she felt heat sweep up her entire being.

“Stupid, I know,” she snorted, trying not to feel too self conscious as she took the bag from him with a sheepish smile.

“Not the word I’d use,” he rasped and there was something rich and dark about his tone that made her blink up at him for a moment. 

She was about to ask him what word he would use then but he gripped her jaw, crashing his lips to hers with such force that she yelped. She clung onto his shirt as he pushed her against the wall. It was so primal, so desperate and she surrendered herself to him instantly, kissing him back as she clutched his shirt. Simon was so animalistic she’d learned in the short time she’d known him, something so viscerally primal that it made her DNA scream out for him. She hadn't expected this reaction from her being in his clothes, she didn't think she looked overly sexy in a baggy t-shirt and pants way too big. When they finally separated so they could breath, she could feel the heat burning her cheeks as she looked up at him demurely. 

“Should wear my clothes more often, love,” he murmured lowly and she couldn't help the shy smile that tugged at her lips. She couldn't remember ever feeling so desired before and she was quickly becoming addicted to the feeling. You’re special. You should be worshipped and treated like you're made of gold. Part of her was wondering if Simon was even real or if he was a figment of her imagination after all the shit she’d been through. 

He placed a sweet kiss to her forehead that she hadn't expected and it made her smile widen. She wouldn't have pegged him for the affectionate type yet he kept giving her little affectionate touches that made her heart pick up. 

“Shall we get goin’, then? I’d offer you breakfast but I’ve not got owt in,” he gave her a sheepish look and she gave him a shrug.

“It’s alright, I’ve got some bacon that needs eating in the fridge at home, could eat some bacon butties right about now,” she grinned impishly. The look he gave her almost made her laugh, it was so comical. He looked at her so hopefully, like the prospect of some bacon butties was the best thing he’d been offered in his life.

“Suppose I could make some for you too, say thanks and all that,” she added with a smirk and he rolled his eyes playfully with a smile.

“Charmin’ you are,” he huffed teasingly and she laughed. He was easy to be around and she liked that. It was easy to forget she’d only met him the night before. 

[theotheradversary]

7. Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon¹, and the dragon¹ and his angels² fought back.

8. But he was not strong enough, and they² lost their place in heaven.

9. The great dragon¹ was hurled down³ — that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan¹, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him³.

— Revelation 12:7–10 (NIV)

¹Samael<Lucy's angel name>, Lucifer, The Morningstar etc. funnily enough i wasn't aware that He is the Twin of Michael.

² pretty much what we already knew. More angels were "cast down"³ than just Lucifer. Just remember like him, the other cast down angels have self assigned names to show they are independent from the control of god, gone from the light. On a random tangent, i cannot remember what Asmodeus's father's name is (child of angel and man). I do love the name. Maybe it was Azazel? That tickles that memory a bit.

Anyways....

They're not one of the Lamb as they were created to be. Remember, they are this god's first children, designed to only obey and follow that bastards orders like blind, unquestioning servants. Which is pretty much a big part of Samael evolution into the "now", Lucifer's identity.

The Bible often refers to Samael/Lucifer as a dragon or serpent. I wish they kept the ancient bit as to make a point of Lucy being an eternal, always has and always will exist Adversary of that bastard.

Yeah..... Even if Deities or their servants are created later in "eternal time"(sorry, that's the best way i can describe it), they will always have always been and will always be. It's a thing throughout all religions that mention eternal beings. But anyways, forget that and angel names stuff for the time being. That can be a fun topic of its own. Also it's hard.... Lineages and such get involved. As you can imagine, it gets pretty messy.

³ Cast down. Onto The Earth. From there they influenced early humanity before being forced into what we know as Hell. My memory fails me as to why and how they were forced "below" The Earth, but I'll find out as i read more... Probably found in more detail and more entertaining in more of the older Bibles, deuterocanonical stuff and other "inspired" writings.

Oh well. We can learn that together! Or you can tell me and I'll post about it, then find ways to expand and reference beyond the prompt.... Though I'll do references next time. I just went off memory for most of this bar the passage from Revelation. Which i should have done here, with this post.

But it's a bit of a quick "damnit, it's irritating me! Wiki will know that bit!"... Followed by "damnit" as my brain went "ooooo previously known knowledge turn on now!".

---

.... Right. Back to me just blogging about my poor judgement.

Honestly i regretted that i focused so much on Solomon's writs and his letters to his sons. I should have been doing the obvious. Current and old Bibles. That's where the good shit is. Then we can focus on where earthly connections lies in the stuff that have been created (or divinely inspired) like Solomon's writings and everything that influenced/created it.

yeah. I said created. It's currently only an entertained thought that it was his original work.... Or King Solomon had anything to do with it. But, still. The "Keys" transcripts has interesting details and it's fairly easy to find links to older works, holy works and Devil worship stuff. Just gotta find it on the net. Which is a PITA. There's sooo many red herrings. But I'll sort through it and make sure what i find are well referenced and confirmed to be of a certain age or written by a scholar/prominent figure (or they're Canonical/Deuterocanonical).

But yeah... my idea of revisiting the writs of Solomon by the researchers in the Library of London etc, is a moot point. Much more interesting more intact/complete books, tomes and grimoires that would have influenced these sets of fabricated (or not) works. This opens me up to so much amazing bits of work, paintings, instructions and such. So. Sorry. I'm an idiot.

-----

I hope you've enjoyed this post. Again, I'd love some comments. But they're hard for me to find i guess.

Yay, poor obscure me. I think I'll have to tighten my tags as well. But I'll still annoy Ghost The Band fans. Because i find it hilarious.

[luckyjak]

Since the game doesn't really expand on it, here are my headcanons for post-game.

My Rook was a female Lord of Fortune rogue who romanced Emmrich. Worldstate was a female Lavellan who romanced Solas.

(Spoilers, obviously)

After leaving the Lighthouse, Rook returns to find that Solas and Lavellan have claimed it as their home in the Fade. They travel the Fade often, doing their best to try and sooth the Blight. Dreamers see them occasionally, and stories spread of the Dread Wolf and his Hart/Heart mending the Veil and soothing the Blight throughout Thedas. Legends start about the Immortal Lavellan, the woman who changed the Dread Wolf's heart, and in doing so, saved Thedas. She becomes a godlike figure in elven mythology, and many who travel the Fade claim to see her still, helping where she can.

Solas occasionally stops by in Rook's dreams. Mostly to complain about things ("why is my laboratory now a greenhouse?") But Mostly because, in spite of everything, he considers Rook a friend. Rook gives him shit every time she sees him, but ultimately, they are both happy with how things have turned out.

After defeating the Elven Gods, Rook and Emmrich take some time for themselves. They stay in Nevarra for Manfred's studies. Eventually, they make a trip to try and help Southern Thedas recover, and there they meet the most peculiar person: a spirit turned human by the name of Cole. This sparks a wild debate about Manfred (should they try to make him mortal? Should they not? Is he happy as just bones???) But eventually, they decide it is Manfred's decision, and leave it be.

Three months after that, Manfred Laider-Volkarin appears as a 14 year old boy, made of flesh and bone. He has his father's eyes, and his mother's heart.

Bellara Lutare becomes a Grey Warden. While not a choice she would have gone with on her own, it was either that or die of Blight sickness after being possessed by Elghan'nan. She survived her Joining, and primarily serves the Wardens as an elven expert. Mostly, she hangs out and snarks with Antoine.

She and Davrin almost switch places in life, as Davrin, still a Warden, spends most of his time in Arlathan, helping train the newest generation of griffins to help protect the ancient forest.

(Maybe Bellara and Davrin date? I gotta travel with them together more often.)

Archon Dorian Pavus is stressed beyond believe, given the horrendous state Minrathos is in. However, he has help; Neve Gallus, who becomes the voice of her people to the Archon. She uses her detecting skills to find out what the common people of Tevinter actually need, and then reports it to the highest authority (Dorian). The Archon employs a full time Qunari bodyguard by the name of the Iron Bull, and anyone with eyes can see the two are in love. The Shadow Dragons get to reform Tevinter out of it's ashes, and none are more proud than Neve.

That is, when she's not in Antiva with her boyfriend.

Lucanis never wanted to be the First Talon of the Crows, but heavy is the head that bears the crown. Because Neve drags him to the undercities all the time, his rich boy attitude gets humbled, and the Crows are better for it. The Crows stop using slaves as recruits, and no child ends up like Zevran ever again.

The Veil Jumpers live up to their name, and become Eluvian guardians, helping people travel across Thedas with what Eluvians remain. Because of the Eluvians, life prospers after the double blights, with supplies and help getting to the people who need it most quickly and rapidly.

The Lords of Fortune move south to help out in the Free Marches. Their leader, Isabela, cannot stand by while her once home gets decimated, and it's pirates, of all people, who help recover the Marches.

The South survives. King Alistair, a former Grey Warden, uses his knowledge of darkspawn to keep more people alive than the Inquisitor knew. However, Orlais is decimated, and may never be the glory of the Empire it once was. The Divine Victoria moves to Skyhold, her once former home where she served as spymaster, and in the Inquisitor's absence, uses it as chantry stronghold for which Orlais can rebuild.

The reason Redcliffe lasts as the final stronghold is because that is where the Hero of Fereldan, Amell, lives, and it is through her sheer force of will that Redcliffe remains.

King Alistair might not have survived the onslaught, had his life not been saved by the most unexpected source: a young mage named Kieran. If the two happen to bear more than a passing resemblance to one another, well, who's to say?

[foxingpeculiar]

Elden Ring/SotE:

Okay, its my Saturday from work and I was pretty determined not to do anything important today, so I got some shit DONE in this game.

Alright, so Shadow Keep. Went in and promptly got stomped by a giant Hippopotamus. Did not expect that, but okay. Went back in, prepared this time, and managed to eke it out.

Made my way through the castle, poking around. Eventually got to the Leda vs. Hornsent invader battle and helped the Hornsent, obviously. Leda was pissed, but y'know... maybe don't go around being all paranoid and trying to murder everyone?

So then I made it up to the storehouse, but got sidetracked on a path through the Ancient Ruins of Rauh. Some neat stuff in there. Lotta scorpions, not a big fan of that. Eventually, I sort of wandered into a cave with a bunch of Rot Kindred and wound up at the Church of the Bud, and hey, there's a remembrance boss/bug lady here. Romina wasn't that bad, really--took I think three tries? A lot of staying to the side of the centipede bits of her and dodging back from blade hits and spins and the like. The AOE butterflies were kind of annoying, but overall, probably the easiest remembrance boss so far.

Wandering over and finding the Divine Dancing Lion 2.0 was a little bit of a different story. I was doing fine until all of a sudden there's basilisks everywhere and an entire smog cloud of Deathblight over everything. Yikes. Eventually, I cottoned on to a strat of using Rellana's Twin Moons to kind of clear the field around me a little bit--that could take out several of the basilisks in one go. Then it was just kind of staying at range and taking careful opportunities to blast or slash when I could. The time I beat him, he killed my Mimic Tear and I ran out of healing, so it was a nailbiter, but we got there.

So I found the Sealing Tree behind the church, but I don't have Messmer's Flame (or whatever) yet, so I can't do shit about it.

Having poked around up top, I went back through the Gravebird Swamp and poked around in the Rauh Base area. Found a forge, fucked around in Temple Town Ruins, went up to the Northern Mausoleum and beat guy named Red Bear, got my ass handed to me by like 3 Runebears at once, but then snuck past them and beat an actual red bear (Rugalea, I guess? That makes two of them now.)

Then it was time to go down the hole in the Moorth Ruins and check out that shit over there. (For the record, I am looking at a general progression guide--which gives suggestions about where to go when, because I'm 102 hours in this game and I only have so much time in my life--but not one with any details about what I'll find in each area.)

Found the (not particularly) Bonny Village and its associated dungeon. Also found an emote on a statue, I think of Marika? It's the "O Mother." And like... I dunno. Getting an emote, but not from a character---my spidey sense is tingling. I'm gonna need that for something. Fuck if I know what, but something.

The Furnace Golems aren't THAT much of a problem at this point, but the one here with the armored legs. I figured out you had to use the Spirit Spring to get up to the ledge and basically play basketball with him, but I did have to look up what, exactly, it was I needed to throw to make it work. Cos man, I tried a bunch of things. Furnace Pots. Doy. Felt dumb after that one.

Anyway, went to the wizard's rise and then met Count Ymir in the cathedral and his "I'm too good for this and you" knight friend. Dude kinda gave me the creeps, but told me to go check out some ruins, and I'm not gonna NOT do that, so okay.

Next, I found my way down into the river. I found the illusory wall when I was fucking around in the castle, but saved exploring that direction until this point. Played basketball again and got the Sword of Light, which is pretty cool. Found Dryleaf's set chilling in a waterfall and I gotta say, I like this guy's style. Then found the Eastern Mausoleum and got a sweet katana that I think I now actually have the stats to use but probably won't.

Eventually stumbled on the Village of Flies. That was... pleasant. There's so much stuff in this DLC that's like "ugh, gross." Manflies, scorpions, those super-meat-boy things that are supposed to go in the jars. Yech.

Then found the Darklight Catacombs. Which was fine until I got to the boss arena. I've been rocking the Snow Witch's Hat, which is very large and tends to block my immediate view when I go through fog gates. And in this particular case, I was dead before I even knew what the fuck was shooting at me. Went back in, dodged immediately and eventually, when the magic bullshit clears, I'm starting down this spellcasting Inquisitor fuck. Thankfully, wizards have bitch-ass poise and I have a handy move that staggers like a motherfucker, so the second time I managed to put him in his place, although things did get crazy there.

Anyway, I understand this path leads to a deeper area, but I'll come back to that later.

So okay, let's go check out this thing for Ymir. I found the Eliac River Cave a while ago, so followed that down past a bunch of electric sheep (that's gotta be a conscious Phillip K. Dick reference, right?) and made my way out to an eerily beautiful night on the Cerulean Coast.

And promptly got ambushed by another Ghostflame dragon, this time with an army of bullshit skeletons fucking up my rhythm. That took some tries--maybe 5 or 6--before I got him. Again, the Twin Moons spell was very helpful here.

Fucked up some shellfish in the tunnel over to the little western island and found the Southern Nameless Mausoleum with the Dancer in it. She was the easiest of the mausoleum bosses, I think, but she did make an important contribution to Fashion Souls because I'm rocking her dress now. In the course of all this, I did also try a couple of other weapons I've come across that are INT-build compatible. The Spirit Sword was kind of fun--very flowy and dance-like, and I did use that for a bit, but goddamn, Transient Moonlight is such a good fucking move. And Moonveil is doing more damage than anything else right now, so I'm back to using that.

(Stats wise, I'm at 79 INT, 60 VIG, 40 MND, 30 END and DEX and 14 STR--haven't upgraded FTH or ARC at all, so they're both under 10. But still. I am a fucking magic-blasting machine. The base game endgame is gonna be a fucking cakewalk.)

The big Demi-Human Queen in the area was pretty easy, so I took her out and then made my way over to the Finger Ruins. Which was creepy and I didn't like it. But I blew on the finger hole or whatever (not a sentence I expected to write today), which made Ymir happy. Now he's cuddling a finger creeper and I don't like that either. But at least his edgelady knight will kind of talk to me. Anyway, he has more ruins for me to explore, but they're up past Shadow Keep, I think, so putting a pin in that for the moment.

So then I went and jumped down the Dragon Pit (after fighting the dragon inside), fought the Ancient Dragon Man (*sung to the tune of "Secret Agent Man"*) and then fought the Drake beyond the tunnel, found the Dragon Communion Altar at the giant dragon's corpse, climbed over said corpse and wound up in Charo's Hidden Grave. (I don't know who Charo is in game, but I know who I'm picturing, and that's delightful.)

The Tibia Mariner there was a pushover--he was dead before the Revenant he summoned even got to do anything. The Deathbird, on the other hand, was another story. Even trying to take out as many of the Gravebirds as I could before hand, still more would show up, and I'd end up getting pecked six ways from Sunday AND ghostflamed. Another one that took several attempts before I managed it, and another one where I was out of flasks and had only a minuscule shred of health left by the time I pulled it out.

Did the Lamenter's Gaol, which was... interesting (that corpse pile room with all the jars and the second key--another "yech" moment). Boss in there was kind of fun. I've seen the whole "I'ma spawn a jillion clones of myself" gag before, but it was well executed here. And it wasn't too hard to deal with because of... you guessed it, the Twin Moons (god, I love that spell).

I think this was also the area with the Scorpion River Catacombs? Or maybe that was somewhere earlier, I don't remember. That shit sucked, though. First, getting death-stared by apparently unkillable statues the whole way down (and the floating ones in the hallways) and then running into a Death Knight. Cos Death Knights have no chill. None. Taking him out was difficult, but very satisfying, and involved a LOT of cursing.

Anyway, there was another Furnace Golem up there, but it's another one with armored legs and I don't have any Messmer's Embers right now to craft more Furnace Pots, so I'll deal with that later.

And so then, it was time for the Stone Coffin Fissure. And I get down to the Cross just fine, no problems. But the stretch between the Cross grace and the next site of grace... hoo boy, that was some BULLSHIT. Those fucking laser rock guys. You can kind of avoid one of them if you're careful and clean out the area from range before hand, but every time I'd have to fight something on the way to one of them, I'd get laserblasted to fuck, cos they pulse QUICKLY. And then there was that section with TWO of them. Fuck all that noise.

But okay, we did it, eventually. Got past the giant slime thing and the spirit Leonine Misbegotten. Finally made it down to the Depths grace. Talked to the spirit guy and realized what I had to do, and damn, that leap down into the pit was fucking cool.

Which is great, cos I got to watch it several times. Cos the Putrescent Knight... hoo boy. Yeah, he smashed me a lot. And froze me. And such. That, I think, was the hardest of the remembrance bosses so far--whether that's just my build, or him, or me as a player, I dunno. But it's the first boss where I really felt like I had to learn the moveset just to find the space to breathe--even with the Mimic Tear, she wasn't drawing enough aggro to keep him off my ass. And that move where he jumps off his horse and they're both coming at you... ye gods. But eventually, after maybe 8 or so tries, I got him.

So then I found Thollier and St. Trina. And he was like "don't drink the nectar!" And so, obviously, I had to drink the nectar. And it killed me. But this isn't my first Fromsoft rodeo--I wouldn't be able to do it if there weren't a reason to, especially with a character this important. So I did it three times. And died three times. And then got frustrated and looked it up. And oh, you have to do it four times and then something will happen. Hm. Okay. Damn.

But I did, and then told Thollier about it and he got all mad and tried to fight me but was a total scrub, and then I died/hallucinated a couple more times and told him about it and he was finally ready to hear me and then he... died? I dunno. That seems to be as far as that's going right now. Dunno if there's more to it, but I guess we'll see.

So okay. Next on the list is to go back to Shadow Keep and check out the storehouse, so we'll see how that goes. I feel like Messmer's in here somewhere, but I don't know when I'll come across him or what his deal is, exactly yet. Goddamn this DLC is big, though.

[moonndust]

gonna put out my honest thoughts about my current progress in fire emblem engage bc i need to talk about how silly this game is

i’m only at chapter 7-8 btw and i’ve already spoiled myself half of the plot

i couldn’t choose between f!alear or m!alear bc their designs were.. something. i chose f!alear for my first run since i did the “same ingame gender as irl gender” thing (and it was an entire tradition for me at some point).

didn’t even reach chapter 6 and f!alear’s design was too much for me. i liked seeing her in a ponytail tho but i was not gonne be patient enough to change her class JUST for the ponytail. like girlie ik ur the divine dragon n shit but atleast try to not get your long ass hair pulled midway in battle.

and wtf is your armor??? you have individual boob cups for what?? your entire outfit does not look an ounce comfortable and yet you still slept in that shit. the short ass skirt too?? the stocking things??? there are like 10 design atrocities and i could even name more (and that’s just on a scale of practicality)

made a new save file and chose m!alear bc i was getting tired of f!alear’s entire armor outfit. ngl i preferred playing as m!alear bc he felt a lot more comfortable playing as an mc. but his entire victorian child fit wasn’t the best but it was more practical than the boob cups.

still mad there’s no unisex mcs.

anyways the prologue was kinda funny. our ass just wakes up and suddenly the world is in shambles bc some salty ass kingdom made sombron become the second coming of jesus christ.

queen lumera only had like.. 2 seconds of screentime until the ultimate mentor/parent death trope scene bc dead parental figures are a must for fire emblem mcs (unless ur sigurd and become the dead parent)

the firene siblings appeared. albert is precious and céline is lowkey on thin ice because of that damned outfit. like maybe wear something more practical in battle other than easy hair pulling and frilly dress?? (i know i can change her class but i’m a lazy bum). im still currently trying to know my way around albert’s skill set but he’s a good unit atm.

the twins are splendid little creatures. clanne got too many mvps and is still on the mvp streak ever since i paired him with celica (i abused warp ragnarok too many times). framme is just there for moral support and actual healing support.

vander’s lvl 1 grandpa ass was actually doing decent damage comapred to lvl 6 alear. you don’t know how many times vander had to come in clutch when alear was 3 hp away from evaporating.

i paired albert w/ sigurd and clanne w/ celica. that shit was game changing. i revoked céline’s emblem privileges for no reason. i just gave celica to clanne since he technically did more damage. he is like low tier but he’s my biggest carry atm. how the turns have tabled.

i changed alcryst’s class to tireur d’élite the second i got his lvl 10 ass. i’m pretty sure he might be my strongest unit atm (lvl wise).

idk who i should pair micaiah with so i just let her stay with yunaka. i never rlly used micaiah’s abilities for healing but i only used her to widen yunaka’s range w/ magic if she needed to chip in some damage to an enemy.

i always get tired at like the 7th turn in every battle and I just abuse celica’s warp ragnarok to beat up that one enemy to win the battle. somehow clanne still deals big damage w/o the engage boosts.

listen i have no clue what they fed the stewards but i am now afraid of them with my every being.

jean and anna r just there. jean doesn’t do shit bc i alr have framme. ik that jean might be decently better than framme but i don’t want his lvl 1 ass dying every single time. anna is a pretty good backup for chain attacks actually. but everytime i see her i get reminded of her commander version from heroes (bc it was my first fe game)

i spent the good majority of my bond fragments on arena emblem bonds w/ my current lineup bc i gotta get those big boi skills n shit. i also watched my units kill each other bc ig that’s a thing now. (i witnessed alcryst beat the shit out of céline)

sommie is a silly little fart.

still waiting on the day i get lucina’s emblem. i want to witness a gang fight.

outside of all the cutscenes, the game has the animation budget of 2 dollars.

i feel like i should make a seperate post on fe13 design atrocities and impracticalities (im bad at character design)

[crown-anon]

aah i thought of a req!!!!! could i maybe request one shots or hcs (separate) w dream, sapnap, n wilbur with a s/o (preferred he/him!!) who draws a whole lot,, n one day they catch him drawing him?? tysm :]

@ghcstbnr asked

gn i just realized i made a typo i meant cc catching reader drawing them- but ty again :)

of course! it's kind of long, sorry about that

I took a little creative liberty with the notion of "catching you drawing." also Sapnap's looks kind of long but it's also dialogue heavy. if you want me to redo it, I will. hope you like it 💗

& a note to everyone else, I don't write for Wilbur yet! I only write for the dream team at this time. sorry about that! this will probably change in the future, though, so look out 👀

CW: swearing

format: one-shot

people: dreamwastaken, Sapnap

pronouns: dreamwastaken's piece is ambiguous, Sapnap's piece uses he/him

edited 27 April 2021

—

dreamwastaken

since he doesn't use his camera, you find yourself with your boyfriend in the studio more often than not. when he's gaming casually, you play together, or one of you will cheer the other one on. when he's streaming, sometimes you interact with the viewers, or read donations for him; sometimes you just sit next to him, soaking up his energy and warmth. when he's working long days and long nights to edit videos, you're content with just relaxing together in the same space. at times you have to drag him out to the kitchen to eat, or help him to bed if he passes out, but…he's really cute when he's focused. (and you're starting to think he does it on purpose just so you can dote on him.)

today is a little different. he's recording for a manhunt that's meant to drop in a couple days. you're quiet, trying to avoid disrupting them. you're perched up on the loveseat, staring fondly at him across the room. he's so animated, the way his eyes shine when he talks to his friends, how he tears up when he laughs…

Patches mews at you from the arm of the couch, as if to say, disapprovingly, I cannot believe how sickeningly sweet your inner monologue is.

and you try to understand where she's coming from, you really do, but the sun's starting to set, and the gentle rays slotting through the blinds are shifting from white to gold.

he looks so divine, you decide. it's unfair. how could I not love him? he's seriously pretty. and before you can stop yourself, you're sketching him out on your tablet. you glance up at him fast to get the details right, and look away just as quickly. he never meets your eyes. soon your whole page is covered in little Clays, capturing the way he feels, the way he acts, the way you feel about him. Patches jumps off the chair, with all the moving. and before you know it, you've drawn up a whole page of concept art of your unfairly beautiful boyfriend. Patches was right about me, you muse to yourself.

fuck. Patches. the same Patches who's been meowing at you for the better part of an hour, now sitting patiently at the door? there's no way Clay didn't pick up on all that noise, you fret. but he's still playing, looking intense as ever. relief washes over you, replacing the guilt.

come here, girl, you think to yourself, knowing Patches wouldn't have even understood you if you spoke. sorry to keep you waiting. and you rise, slipping quietly out the door with his cat in your train.

—

you're coming back to the studio. Patches, fed and sated, is napping in another room. opening the door, you have to stop yourself, you freeze. your boyfriend's kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels, right next to the door—you'd have hit him if it opened any further.

"baby, what are you…" the words die on your tongue.

my book. my sketchbook. my sketchbook full of drawings of him. shit, he's gonna think I'm such a simp! the embarrassment, the shame, the fear, it's overwhelming you.

you hear your voice break. "…what happened to recording…?"

"finished half an hour ago," he says simply.

and that was that. for the first time in ages, the silence hanging between you was thick and heavy with tension. you wait. and wait. and wait. you wait for the criticism, the hate, the argument that never comes.

suddenly, he seems content with what he's seen, when he looks up at you adoringly, and takes one of your hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "is that…me?"

you've lost your voice, all you can do is nod.

"you…you think I'm beautiful?" he glows.

ah, I suppose I did write that, somewhere in there. you look away. all the things I've said…

he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves kisses on your knuckles.

you sound small. "do I not tell you that enough?" you pause. "that you're beautiful? that I love you?"

and just like that, his nervousness dissolves into euphoria. you both start laughing at the same time.

"oh my god—" he wheezes. "—you're so sappy."

"only for you," you blurt out, and start laughing harder. but he quiets, he hesitates.

"only for me," he repeats.

you sink down onto the floor next to him. he's staring so fondly at you, you can't help but smile back.

"only for you," you affirm.

he rests his hands on your knees, pulling himself closer to you. he's so close to you, you can feel his blush. you let your eyes close, softly.

but the kiss never comes. instead, you're met with a "then what about all those drawings of Patches?"

laying on the floor, tangled up in each other, in hysterics, you distantly think I hope he remembered to leave the call from recording earlier.

—

over dinner, you meet his gaze, and he gives you that look. that stupid, handsome look; the one with the smile and the danger behind his eyes. he makes a point of pausing mid-bite, but it takes you a minute to notice that he's stopped eating.

"what's up, honey?" you ask, sounding a little more concerned than you should have been.

he shrugs dramatically. "oh, nothing…just figured you'd appreciate a muse." there it was. the teasing. you knew it would happen eventually. but the tone, it's kind, it's tempting; gentle, unlike a serious jab.

so all you do is roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your mouth quirks into a smile. "you're so dumb," you murmur with affection, and shake your head at nothing in particular.

Patches curls her tail around your ankle as she passes you by.

—

on the couch hours later for movie night, you're the last one up. Patches is curled up in Clay's lap, purring. Clay, in turn, sleeps soundly in your lap. (you think if he could purr, he would, but he settles for humming softly when you play with his hair.) you might think it's funny looking back on it later, but it feels so tender and vulnerable now. you like calm evenings like this one. Studio Ghibli plays quietly on the flatscreen; you don't know which one, you're not really paying attention anymore.

you're busy tracing the contours of Clay's skin, feeling more than seeing his shape in the dark room. mapping him out in your mind, learning his figure like you're seeing him for the first time again. you think you understand him a little bit better, every day you spend together. and with confidence, you make your first stroke, illuminated by the moon.

—

Sapnap

you only barely stop yourself from drawing a big "X" across your paper. exhale, and start erasing furiously. don't rip the paper—well, we didn't need that sheet anyway. ball it up and throw it at the dark, cobwebbed corner of the room. along with the rest of your mistakes.

you're trying. you're really trying. but those lips. his fucking lips. fuck.

your boyfriend smiles at the camera as he gets a donation with a sweet message on it. it should be so easy. he's right there. right here.

you check the time. it's been an hour. you've been trying, and miserably failing, to get his lips right for an entire hour. today, at least. you scoff at yourself, your misery, and pinch the bridge of your nose. it isn't fair.

his camera's on, and he's live, so you know you can't be in there with him. nobody knows you're together, and you don't want know what kind of backlash to expect if people found out. so you've been avoiding his streams…the whole room where he streams, really.

you've kept yourself busy by drawing. and you've cycled through many subjects in your life, and eventually, been able to draw whatever you put your mind to with enough time and effort. the problem is, your sights have been set on Sapnap, even for months before you got together. okay, maybe that isn't the problem. the actual problem is that you fucking suck at drawing him.

you get going, start it out, do an okay job, but midway through screw it all up somehow. to make things worse, your reference is his 2D image. he doesn't…know that you draw him. you're terrified to say. so you can't use the real life Sapnap as a reference, like you would prefer.

ugh, and this one's ruined too. you rip it up and throw it at your growing pile of paper balls, but being tiny confetti-sized pieces of paper, they don't make it very far. great, something else to clean up later, you huff at your own thoughts. it isn't fair.

—

"[name]?" he calls for you. you're one step ahead, already opening the door. you can't remember when you got here and decided to brood outside his room.

"hey, do you think you can—" he tears his eyes from his camera, his waiting audience, to look up at you expectantly. when he sees you he stops immediately, looking concerned, standing to meet you.

"what is it?" your voice is flat.

out of view of the camera, he mouths, are you okay? you only shrug and avert your eyes.

he falters, contemplates, sits back down at his desk and starts to talk to his viewers. "hey guys, I'm sorry for the short notice, but I gotta cut this stream short. my…" he glances at you for approval, only to see you motioning with your hands as if to say, no, don't.

(you yourself don't really know what for. no, don't end the stream for me? no, don't out us like this?)

he looks back. "…my friend…something came up with my friend. I have to take care of it. it's really important." you can tell he has trouble finding the right words. you can tell it throws him off, he's acting out of character for his internet personality. do you blame him? isn't this your fault? "sorry again. bye guys!"

the second he made the last click, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. it's unexpected, it knocks the wind out of you. you're certain he feels the tension.

"babe…what's wrong?" it's muffled by your neck and the sweater you're wearing. you just hold him, saying nothing.

he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. "look at me. what's wrong?"

you feel all the more embarrassed. it's so silly to be upset about. "I…I…well, it's a lot."

he shakes his head, to say I'm not going anywhere, but his expression softens, his grip loosens. "do you want to talk about it?"

you sigh. "it started as 'I can't draw for shit', then it became 'why am I afraid of asking you for help?', and finally, worst of all, 'why the fuck can't we be seen together?' it isn't fair. it's never been fair. I'm sorry."

he thinks about it for a second. "okay, what makes you feel like we can't be seen together?"

"are you joking?" you snap. "we're two fucking boyfriends. in this society." he didn't look hurt by the outburst, but the guilt crept in anyway. "…I'm sorry."

he shakes his head, "do you really think I'd let that happen? I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, darling. remember that."

"I know, I know…" you don't know what to say. "it's easy to forget, I guess."

"what are you afraid to ask me for help about?"

"I…" shit, you guess you have to tell him. close your eyes, breathe, "I've been drawing you. trying to draw you. but I can't, it never turns out right."

you peek, and he's red in the face, stuttering. "me? you draw me? of all the hot people out there?"

you furrow your eyebrows at him. "don't give me that shit. you know you're cute."

he shakes his head incredulously. "are we talking about the same person here?"

"dude, your smile is literally the most radiant fucking force of nature I have ever seen."

"you're hot too! why are you coming after me?"

"I'm not 'coming after you', you're being defensive about your looks, when you shouldn't be! you're gorgeous, baby."

you're both giggling like girls at a sleepover, the anger and frustration long forgotten. now it's a war of who can be more grossly in-love with the other.

"what part of me," he manages between laughs. "are you having trouble drawing?"

"oh god," you groan, remembering yourself and your dilemma. "your lips."

"my fucking lips? you would think that—"

"no," you warn. "shut up. don't say it. don't you dare say it."

he leans in close, his hands have moved up to cup your face. you shiver.

"don't worry," he grins. "I won't."

the kiss is long and sweet, nothing like the ones you've shared in the past. he takes his time, you savor each other. you feel time stop ticking, you feel your heart stop beating, you feel the way he tilts his head. you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in. and when you part, you're breathing heavy, in tandem.

"thanks," you manage. "but I needed to see your lips, not kiss you into next saturday."

"nah," he laughs. "I think you needed that too."

you choose your words thoughtfully. "do you need me, too?"

he hums, and—

ding!

dreamwastaken donated $69!

:)

you could die. you could really, seriously die.

the response is instant. you don't even see Sapnap move from you to the PC, flushed down to his neck, apologizing, apologizing, and apologizing again. "change of plans, guys, we're doing an art stream!"

the chat is filled with "huh?"s and "what?"s.

"huh? what?" you didn't have the time to process what just happened.

karljacobs: I thought we were doing a make-out-with-our-secret-boyfriends stream :(

he smiled warmly at you. "yeah. my lovely boyfriend is going to draw me! he's been wanting to for a really long time, and his art is really good. let's go get your stuff."

you're in so much shock that he makes it past you and out of the room, while you stand there waiting. after a pause much longer than you intended, you hurry after him.

—

down the hall, in your room, he's got your sketchbook tucked under his arm, closed. you're sure you left it open when you came out.

you only barely get the words out. "um, did you…go through it? please don't laugh."

your heart sinks when he laughs heartily, but he grabs your hand, resting it on your book, about to hand it off. but he holds you there for a second. "of course not. I respect your privacy." he ponders for a moment. "I respect you."

you can feel the sigh of relief when you let it out. "I…love you."

your holding your book now, as he moves to collect the boxes containing your pens and pencils and colors. he gets them all together, but before he picks them up to head back, he turns around to face you. "is this too much?"

you absently reach for a hand, tracing over the lines on his palms. and you think about it. am I okay? is this too much?

"I don't think so. not with you. I'm okay."

he moves to open the door and grab the rest of your things. "well then, let's not keep them waiting!"

—

edited 27 April 2021

[hms-no-fun]

did anything specifically inspire the idea of june merging with vriska?

heads up, got another long answer for ya!

so obviously one of the big origin points for june as a popular headcanon was that early conversation with vriska. you know the one.

following this moment vriska proceeds to tell john she's gonna make him better by making him more like her, a process that includes dressing him up in her clothes and giving him items she possesses. he then at some point (can't remember if it's before or after this moment) shares with vriska his love of the film con air, and vriska becomes basically the only person in homestuck to share john's enthusiasm about it.

in summer 2019 a lot of people were revisiting that section of the story to uncover homestuck's nascent transgender themes, and i kinda piggybacked off of that! what really struck me is how familiar this little episode felt. i remember rapidly developing really close personal friendships with other girls my age as a young teen, which at the time i parsed as a crush but never really understood even as a crush. these friendships would last maybe two or three weeks, and then i'd fall off the map because [vague egg denial noises]. looking back i can see that i was confusing wanting to be those girls with wanting to date those girls. anyway i think it's so interesting that john has this very specific relationship with vriska that dissolves about as fast as it starts, but that still feels painfully relevant to his character in some abstract way.

so going into gf2.1, i had the idea that vriska would show up in john's dreams and be a gender pest... then i remembered con air, and specifically that scene where john shows it to jade and then loses his shit about how bad of a movie it actually is. i don't know that i'd say it's one of the best scenes in homestuck but it's certainly among the ones that most hit home for me. i have lost count of the movies i loved so much as a kid and teen that i made them a core part of my personality, which i now find utterly contemptible and garbage. and just how AWFUL it can feel to rewatch something you used to love and realize that actually it sucks, and everyone who ever told you it sucks was right. so i figured, hey, why not revisit that scene in a dream and play up the vriska connection? and then as i was writing later scenes it was like, you know what, let's make con air the locus of john's gender revelation.

(fun fact: someone on the hs2 team told andrew about this scene waaaaaaaay back in like september 2019 and he was like "yeah that sounds about right," which i thought was pretty cool)

anyway, the fusion thing specifically was another of those divine inspiration moments. because as i was writing those early chapters of 2.1 (and i think you can see hints of this if you look back), my idea was that the person june was talking to in the dreamspace was... someone/something else. maybe june from the future? i had a lot of different ideas floating around in my head that ultimately wound up set aside because vriska, being vriska, completely stole the show from me! honestly i wanted to have june just be like, transgender john, without much difference, but it was again like. wait. if john's gonna fuse with vriska, even if it's this sort of parallel memory-based fictive of her, then that's really gotta stick doesn't it? like it can't just be "oh i'm kinda vriska-esque now" without really staring into the heart of who vriska is. or, more specifically, who vriska was at the time that john really latched onto her as "the kind of woman i want to be."

and that's the point at which godfeels really got away from me (in a good way). i've actually been revisiting early gf stuff as i'm problem-solving 3.1 ch8 and what's stuck out to me the most is how rapidly the story's tone changes as soon as the narration switches from second person to first person. that was a trick i knew i wanted to pull, but the vriska aspect of it with the new text color and everything, rereading that scene almost two years out from writing it i can still feel the energy of that revelation. it was so strong then that it's still fueling the narrative to this day! i mean, gf3 would be a COMPLETELY different story if i hadn't made june part-vriska.

after that chapter came out, i saw a few folks sort of deriding my june as a cringe self-insert, and like, i've never made a secret of june's autobiographical elements? and i even joke about it in the story and in the tags with stuff like "vriska-kin" or whatever. but i think the wish-fulfillment/power-fantasy line of critique only carries so far. i don't want to speak for all trans women here, but i know that i spent a lot of my life as an egg struggling through infinite brain fog, slowly losing track of all my interests and my friends and my everything else. and then realizing i was trans, coming out, it was genuinely like finding my desire to LIVE again. and with that came all these realizations about myself, realizing that despite being (at the time) almost 28 years old i still didn't really understand much about me or who really wanted to be. and i think this is an extremely common transgender experience! where you come out and suddenly you're able to live life and have opinions about things and feel ENTITLED to being treated well! and i just think, there's something really beautiful in a trans woman who comes out and decides, no, i'm not gonna apologize for who i am. i'm not gonna make excuses, even if that makes people think i'm a bitch!

and that's all vriska, baby. i leaned into the vriska stuff more and more entirely because of that uncomfortable zone she inhabits that's like, yeah, you're right, but you don't have to be an asshole about it. and that's just really compelling to write! i love writing mean, damaged women who have unfathomable superpowers!! and that basically became the core theme of godfeels as a whole: what is power if you lack the will to use it? june's existence is an inconvenience for a lot of people in the story entirely because for maybe the first time in her life, she has the will to really truly use it. i think if you get galaxy brained enough you can trace a direct line from this theme straight to gf3's "it's a space opera now."

anyway i hope that answered your question lmao

[syubub]

ENERGY CHECKUP: YOONGI (again)

Now, I know I've already done an energy check up on yoon but I wanted to see how he was doing now that he's gotten his shoulder surgery!

Disclaimer time: tarot is not to be takes as fact and is my interpretation if the cards :) entertainment purposes only~

SHIT IS STRANGE (it is Yoongi though so I'm not too shocked)

So. For starters, his energy is pretty calm and chill. He's also a bit more quiet?

I wrote a note that tomorrow is exciting... idk I wrote it down and I'm not sure if its exciting for him or for us? Maybe its just a general like, "tomorrow is a good day" type thing.

Now. 11... I wrote this down and I'm not sure why though I believe that he might be seeing 11:11 on the clock or possibly that something exciting is happening for him at 11:11 (I just checked and thats in like an hour and a half from when I'm writing this down(( update i just finished writing the whole post and it is about 11 minutes away)) idk. I make no promises but I wrote it down so there you go.

I also kept seeing plants and I'm not sure if people got him flowers or plants as a "get well" type thing or maybe he's stressing bc someone has to water his plants lol

Okay. Okay. Hear me out. Black bean noodles. It popped into my head and I was told to write it down but I'm also really hungry so take that with a grain of fucking salt. (I even pictured a nice elaborate bowl that was red as well as the take out container. Yum. Send me noodles)

MOVING ON

Here's the actual reading lol. He is bored.

Thats all. Thank you for coming.

Jk

I joke. The cards give me a kind of frazzled feeling? Its the struggle of knowing hes done something good but it comes at a cost. Yoongi works. A lot. All the goddamn time. So what now? He's having this shake up thats forcing him to deal with stuff. Him having this surgery also may have brought back some less than favorable memories/ feelings that hes being forced to deal with now. Over all though he feels like its good. The 6 of wands makes me think that he's thinking of our response when he comes back. Its like he's gonna be so much more confident in himself and his dancing and he can finally move on from the car accident? It happed so long ago but he literally carried this burden with him. Its good. The wheel of fortune and is about a change and the 8 of swords is about self imposed restriction, imprisonment and over all bad/ negative feelings. I pulled the wheel of fortune first and asked what was changing and that was the 8 of swords. This surgery is helping to free him from this restricting, painful thing that may have been reminding him of the past! YES HEALING

Now. For this section I just kinda asked "whats up?" And got, easy does it, divine life purpose l, balancing masculine and feminine energies and uplift your thoughts. He may be resting but he's got his mind working on 3,000 my dude. Its the regular "yoongi is woke af" bullshit but damn. The cards say what they say. He's preparing. I'll come back to this.

Now the 7 of cups and the 3 of swords. I asked how he felt about missing out on promoting. He's heart broken with the 3 of swords. It genuinely pains him. And with the 7 of cups he might feel like there's a lot of ways this can play out and he's considered a lot of options.

I was curious how he felt about me coming into his energy so I asked him what he thought of me. Lol. These each came out separately. We got, 2 of cups, four of wands, the empress, justice, the magician, the sun and the lovers. Ha

So. To add to the mood setting my guide said "he's a drama queen" lol yeah he is.

So so so so so. I was confused? Still am a little confused but I'm like 80.9% sure that he isn't bothered by me poking around in his energy n shit. In fact my theory is that he's using this connection to his advantage? Lol sounds dumb but my best guess is that home boy sees my energy/ what I'm doing as a way to figure out his own shit? Idk maybe he thinks I'm his energetic therapist. Maybe even a matchmaker (I mean... I have been putting a lot of energy and work into finding/ connecting with his soulmate so maybe he's letting me do all the dirty work) I really don't understand but I got no further explanation.

Oki oki oki. Now. I was drawn to 2 books. The kybalion and the prophet. I asked yoon if there was any messages that we wanted to point out through the books and I got a number for each book so I took it as page numbers. 28 for the prophet and 54 for the kybalion

Take what you will from these if it calls to you. I haven't read these since I was around 13? The sentiments for each felt important to me so I'm curious what you all might think/ feel when reading these? ( I also get the feeling that Yoongi has read the prophet idk why)

Okay. At this point I was like cool, let's wrap this up but I need to talk about his pjs? Green/grey? Plaid pj bottoms don't ask me don't ask me don't ask me I don't know but It wouldn't go away so I had write it down? Help.

I had written yoongis brother down too. Theres something about him? I'm not sure what but thats all I got lol

I was very strongly told that I needed to remember 7, that its important. Got it. Worth it down.

Oki. As I was going back to the platform blah blah blah the string turned blue too. The cord is usually white or silver but it was blue so that was a fun thing and then I was like "nice. Cool. Thanks. This was awesome, get healthy blah blah" and go to leave/ end the connection but the cord wouldn't go away.

???

What.

Then the string (idk if I said but that string shit is like on the third eye? Its connected to my forehead and his too.) Kind tightens.

I'm like, "oh shit."

Listen. Usually everything is smooth and nice and I just leave.

All is well though bc my guide is like, "stop being a little bitch" so I just let it happen.

Yoon shoves me back off the edge of the platform. Why he gotta be like that?

Now. This is strange. I had dropped down into a library.

Y'ALL

I almost shit my fucking pants. Dear god.

THE AKASHIC RECORDS MY DUDE

He started walking me around until he found a blue book. His mother fucking book.

Home boy brought me to his fucking Akashic fucking blue fucking book.

I was big mad. "YOU LITTLE FUCKER! YOUVE KNOWN ABIUT THIS SHIT?" And he was like, "duh"

I've never felt more disrespect lol

Also the way the library was presented was way way way different from how it looks to me. So thats an interesting note. Looking at his book, on the base of the spine is a number 7...

Oki. Cool. I asked if I could look and he said, "Sure, when you can find your way back."

This mother fucker threw me out of a meditative state. Have you ever woken up just before you hit the ground in one of those falling dreams? THAT WAS THE FEELING.

?? I'm not sure what the fuck just happened or if it holds actual significance.

Anyway. After cursing the fuck out of yoobi I started thinking what else 7 ment.

I was specifically told to remember 7 and it was on his book. Then It popped into my head (I want to say its because I'm smart and thought of it all by myself but I think that was my guide wanting me to keep my last brain cell safe). What is yoongis life path number?

Now I don't know shot about life path numbers but imma read up on them tonight. I used a life path calculator on Google. HIS LIFE PATH NUMBER IS 7 Y'ALL.

Maybe I'm dumb as fuck but yoobi never disappoints.

Conclusion: Yoon is fine. Hes just being a yoongi and a yoongi does.

⬆️Me after this reading⬆️

⬆️ Yoongi rn playing 12D chess⬆️

[chicago-geniza]

well i intended to go for a nice evening walk, ended up having a panic attack, ordering a couple of cocktails at the bougie bar, joining a jam session with a bunch of old hippies on the logan green (one of them gave me a handpainted wooden medallion which seems to be carved out of tree bark, strung on a length of yarn???), met a crustpunk train-hopping dude in town for the month (& his dog, in a leather-studded harness) who's lived in 45/50 states & a 44 yr old guy everyone called "the wizard" wearing a tattered, patch-covered robe who shares most of my parents' conspiracy theories & considers himself a latter-day prophet, he bought us sorbet & ice cream, wound up hanging out with them & staying up all night at their indescribably eclectic, cluttered, blood-spattered (!!!) apartment, belonging to 44 yr old guy's art curator father & decorated accordingly, smoking m*th & listening to music & talking (or rather listening to them rant/rave/recount stories from their incredibly wild lives), i gave them advice on applying for unemployment & medicaid & how to appear compliant enough w/ carceral psychiatric intervention so they won't section you without actually submitting to forced medication or institutionalization, especially if they assign you a case worker & do regular "wellness checks." also how to pass off certain aspects of behavioral dysregulation as executive dysfunction, get them to pay for an adhd evaluation, get an adderall IR scrip, sell the 30 mg pills (cite body weight, high doses of other psych meds as reason for higher dose; look sincere; play to systemic biases toward cis white men, unfortunately), & use the cash to buy m*th, if they'd prefer to keep doing that. you can also pass positive psychotic symptoms--agitation etc.--off as severe anxiety, especially if you have a history of trauma, & they will give you benzodiazepines. it is in their best interest to keep you docile, i.e. tranquilized, particularly if your past convictions & involuntary institutionalizations revolve around a pattern of aggressive behavior, & that's On The Record/there's a paper trail. (e.g. one dude got arrested trying to keep cars away from an injured bird on the road, some genre of raptor i think (???) by threatening them with a shopping cart, not hitting them, but like, running at them as if to collide then feinting at the last minute so they'd swerve out of the way. not the safest or most effective maneuver, lotta reckless endangerment, but the motivation was admirable. probably put the fear of god into some drivers, though. he doesn't seem to have, like, impulse control.) it's a lot easier & you have fewer run-ins with the cops if you game the system & appear cooperative. they gave me this coat, which "just showed up in their apartment one day," like i did. 44 yr old guy walked me back to apartment, stole a street sign & tore down a real estate sign en route, lori lightfoot did indeed take down the pride flag in front of her house on july 1st & replace it with an appropriately patriotic american flag, i walked past the idling plainclothes cop car & another marked police vehicle with their Mayoral Guarding Detail inside at like 4.30 am smoking a menthol cigarette (not inhaling), high on m*th, draped in a neon anime jacket, in the company of a visibly insane, unshaven & unshorn middle-aged man in a technicolor patchwork trenchcoat, holding a lit cigarette in one hand & an upside-down traffic cone in the other, which he was using as an ad hoc amplifier for a noise track playing on my phone. he was also carrying the stolen real estate banner &, inexplicably, a stack of mail. i gave him my old backup phone (no SIM card & doesn't hold a charge long, ancient, but still works), since neither he nor the other dude have phones (cops took them), also one hybrid edible for each of them, as a thanks for the m*th & the kindness. their hearts are in the right place but they have some fucked-up beliefs about "reverse racism" being real, while also saying in the same breath that you can tell our country is irredeemable by the way it continues to

treat black people. we were discussing medical weed for seizures on medicaid & 44 yr old guy mentioned one of his close friends, a black epileptic woman, whose seizures were frequent & severe enough they prevented her from working. then he added, in apparent bemusement, they she hadn't spoken to him in some time, & he wondered why. a little while later he relayed their last conversation & i was like "my dude, i can say with 100% certainty she is not talking to you because you said some *appallingly*, jaw-droppingly racist shit & did not even realize it was racist." then i, comma, a white person, explained to this man that he literally thought of their exchange as, like, an abstract argument over insignificant ideas, a theoretical exercise, & therefore considered it simply a smug gotcha to "counter" hotep theories about egyptian origin by claiming that "if that's true, american slavery & the oppression of black people in america are divine retribution for the enslavement of the jews in ancient egypt, an eye for an eye & a deserved punishment." like, first of all, what the actual fuck, if i were that woman i would also never speak to you again, second of all there's the collapse of historical time & mythical time, history & exegesis, an assumption that rests on spurious claims of biblical literalism (zionist colonization logic, btw! him: what's exegesis? what's zionism? me: never mind, not the point. exegesis is the interpretation of religious texts in a religious CONtext, in this case what you would likely call the hebrew bible.)--but most importantly it is 100% irrelevant to this discussion whether or not black americans are Actually Factually descendended from ancient egypt! you just told this woman to her face that the ancestry she claims, of which she's proud, is the reason & justification for SLAVERY & BLACK SUFFERING--not only that, but that if it WERE true, than black people would DESRVE to suffer, by DIVINE DECREE. you are trying to force her to abdicate her claim on this heritage by putting her in a position where she'd be forced to concede complicity in her people's historical & present-day persecution, oppression, & essentially the existence of structural racism. & using The Figural Jew as a rhetorical cudgel to bludgeon her into this corner. what a despicable thing to say. like, he hadn't considered it from her perspective at all, & once he groked why the comment itself was, like, unforgivable (idk, maybe she's more forgiving; she has a virtue-name), i started socratic-method-ing him through why it was particularly unforgivable for *him* to say to *her*--the individual is not responsible for the systems from they benefit, but they are imbricated in them, they are implicated when they actively perpetuate & uphold them, even with speech acts. & finally gave the same "there is no such thing as reverse racism because racism is not an individual act, it is an institutional, systemic phenomenon, & it is an ideology, one which individual acts can bear out or be in accordance with, & to which individuals can subscribe (this bearing it out in their behavior, in their institutional roles, in their interpersonal interactions--here i gave & solicited examples of each) or be subject (also gave & solicited examples). m*th makes me very good at Explaining clearly & he was surprisingly receptive--like, it was astonishing that it had not occurred to him??? but it hadn't, the same way it hadn't occurred to my mother, & she interpreted it as "reverse racist" when their next-door neighbor called her the "white devil" for disputing their property line, & i had to be like "ok but if you called in a random third party to mediate in lily-white [city], oregon, where white supremacists openly drive down the street in pickup trucks with swastika armbands, whose side do you think they would take, statistically speaking, in your property dispute. that's why racism is systemic & institutional, & your rude neighbor calling you a name over a disagreement does not constitute 'reverse racism,' because 'reverse racism' by definition cannot

exist." now this dude wants to like, read books, so i gotta get him some entry-level Intro To Racism primers??? how did i end up here, but better me than his black epileptic (ex-)friend, i guess??? jesus christ. both of these guys have the most chaotic, reactionary politics in a potpourri with these deep commitments to abolition & mutual aid & a kind of proto-anarchist consciousness, none of which would be called by those names, but all of which is borne out in practice & in the politics of everyday life. they remind me a LOT of my parents. i'm loath to imagine how they'd internalize my stepdad's rambling, street-preacher-style libertarian lectures. probably go out & buy guns & invest in gold on the stock market & double down on the conviction that free speech is being curtailed & individual rights are in jeopardy because you can no longer unleash a barrage of harassment against some guy on the street because you think he looked at you funny. these claustrophobic convictions, like the space to express oneself is getting smaller & smaller every day, *other people* are taking it away from you, suffocating you on all sides with their offense demanding your silence, they are *making* the walls close in--when in fact it's more like a holodeck. you're a member of the Hegemonic Group, afforded the privilege of the default, so you don't question the vast verdant expanse that is your domain--ah, Free Speech, the sun never sets on the empire of ~uncensored expression, you can say whatever you want whenever you want without facing consequences because you control all the organs that mete out consequences & you have also determined that those groups who might be adversely affected by your words--emotionally OR materially--are not, well...of consequence. but of course the vast verdant domain is an illusion, photons & forcefields, held together by the all-encompassing TOTALITY of the dominant group's hegemony, power, etc. once that power begins to redistribute throughout the system--however unevenly, however incrementally, however slowly--as even the smallest pieces are appropriated by those deemed inconsequential, who have endured years of systemic, material, institutional violence that allowed the dominant group to become dominant & retain its dominant position--once those 'inconsequential' groups speak up & say "actually, these words bear an indelible imprint of the violence enacted upon us, these words are the legacy of that violence, these words are a tacit endorsement of the ideology behind that violence, which classifies us as subhuman, & even if *you* can't hear those echoes, the words broadcast on two historical frequencies, so now that we're able to broadcast on a frequency *you* can hear, we request you find other language, & consider the implications of the words you've been using for years." well--once The Subaltern Speaks, the dominant group loses its 'innocence,' & becomes aware the vast verdant expanse of language is an illusion of infinite space, aware of the four holodeck walls pressing in behind the simulacrum of the horizon, & suddenly "what one can say without negative consequences"--largely social, sometimes, rarely, if social media goes viral, professional--feels much more claustrophobic. so they get angry. & some of them are just bigots, obviously, but some of them--like my parents, &, even, this weirdly well-intentioned m*thhead who said one of the most shockingly racist things i've heard in my life & *honestly didn't understand why it was racist*, is really riled up about free speech & individual rights, hates the government, hates "FANG" (facebook amazon netflix google) & has a bunch of dystopian conspiracy theories about data harvesting & personal information that only miss the mark in that they get too nefariously biopolitical (billionaires want to put microchips in everybody for surveillance to monitor our movements & sell us more stuff; they don't need to, they already use our phone location & browsing habits to generate the algorithm & sell the information to ad companies lol, it's digital& cast a

single illuminati figure in the role of comic book villain, controlling the operation behind the scenes like an evil puppetmaster (classic conspiracy fare; again, we gotta take that energy, that suspicion, the understanding that they are being taken advantage of & tricked, the idea that power & capital & resources are concentrated among a very small number of people, however it's not an individual wealthy villain with a desire for world domination who wants to turn Free Americans into microchipped drones, it's a *class* of people--or rather several classes, but *who those people are as individuals does not matter*. if you guillotined bill gates, another billionaire would take his place. bill gates qua bill gates is not the problem. it is classes of people who control the means of production & own property & profit enormously from exploiting the labor of a desperate, rapidly increasing underclass, i.e. from the system as it is. therefore it is in their interest to maintain the status quo, because it serves them. 'the rich get richer, the poor get poorer.' the middle class gradually ceases to exist. if you want to compound it by race, consider the GI bill as an example - you learn about it as the leg up that enabled thousands of WWII vets to buy houses, enabling them to enter the middle class. hundreds of thousands of third-gen middle class white americans still reap the structural, socioeconomic benefits of their grandparents' initial upward mobility, including,, very tangibly, those selfsame houses, which can be inherited & then rented out as a second property if the children or grandchildren accrue enough money to buy their own properties. but only about 100 black vets got approved for homeownership loans, despite the staggering numbers of black soldiers who enlisted & applied through the GI bill. anyway! the impulses are there, & they're only being funneled into conspiracy thinking because that makes intuitive sense on a narrative level. these guys have a high school education; so does my stepdad. their reading habits are...eclectic, sporadic, pretty much dictated by occasional recommendations & like, little free libraries around the neighborhood. it's both interesting & frustrating to see like - hey, here are these people, we agree on a lot of things, they're earnest & open & want to learn & would give their neighbor the shirt off their backs as a matter of principle. they'd give a *stranger* the shirt off their backs; they'd share whatever they had. even what chores there are in their collective--they live with two other guys--(dumpster diving, walking the dog, tidying up the apartment) are allocated by ability & inclination. they made advance plans to look after the dog & their roommate with War PTSD on the 4th of july if the fireworks upset them, jokingly called the dog an emotional support animal. you give them the tools, the reading, talk to them like normal people with a stake in society--like, imagine a society that would have a stake in people like you instead of criminalizing you & consigning you to the margins! that's already *political imagination* because anyone who occupies a marginalized position will have their existence politicized, whether they want this or not, so better to become a self-aware, self-reflexive political subject, no?--talk *with* them because tbh i am them, i'm just better at situational masking & also i am very very afraid of cops so i only damage property in groups during planned political actions (not spontaneously, because i feel a flash of rage at my neighborhood gentrifying, & simply do not have a superego, so i tear down the real estate sign for the fancy new apartment complex in a fit of pique, because in this house we believe that spontaneity can & should be developed into class consciousness, again, the seeds of which are there in the initial trigger for the spontaneous reaction, i.e. anger at gentrification. not opposed to a little direct action, but they're just gonna put up a new sign tomorrow, it doesn't advance your agenda or hinder the gentrifiers' progress. now, if

you sabotaged the construction site for the new apartment buildings & painted a few potent symbols + graffiti'd a pithy, written statement expressing your opposition to gentrification generally & these apartments specifically? in a prominent place, large font, eye level, visible & legible from oh, a block away? maybe as a member of a collective, your neighbors, perhaps? & you could sign it "[neighborhood] or [block] residents" to pack more of a punch, the power of a crowd speaking in unison to say "not OUR home, you predatory developers"? that's no longer spontaneous, impulsive, affective violence, & it's also no longer an individual--acting alone leaves you vulnerable. again--i didn't just *intuit* that he tore the sign down because he was mad about gentrification, i asked, in a genuinely curious tone, not at all accusatory, no hint of reprimand or censure, just...interested, "why did you do that?" & he was like "it made me fucking mad." & i was like "what about it made you mad? the apartments? how come?" & he thought about it for a minute & explained. i'm not sure *he* necessarily made the conscious connection until prompted. idk, i know people talk a lot about the fact that breitbart & drudge report are free while NYT & "all the news fit to print" is paywalled, & q-pilled covid hoax sites are free while "reputable" pandemic coverage & public health guidelines & explanations of mRNA vaccines for a lay audience are paywalled & that's true but also We Live In A Society & if you talk to the wingnuts who AREN'T that way because of any far-right ideology, a lot of them are just...autodidacts without much formal education but a lot of raw intelligence that leads to analyzing The Big Picture & trying to deduce a pattern, find a framework that explains why the world is the way it is, profoundly frustrated, deeply aware of American society's, universalized & figured as the world's, exceptional unfairness & cruelty, & *that can be redirected* with reading, discussion, prompting critical thought, introducing community connections, & perhaps most importantly for this genre of person, getting them to see patterns at work in terms of systems & structures rather than individuals, letting go of American individualism's explanatory power & belief in its liberatory potential (see: the sort of ad hoc libertarianism that goes hand-in-glove with much conspiracy thinking, both stemming from 1) mistrusting the government, & 2) ultimate freedom of the individual as the most sacred value, therefore it is what all enemies want to take away), outlining positive, actionable goals rather than just ambient suspicion & anger at authority, & figuring out how those goals can be accomplished more effectively by an organized collective (but this will ultimately benefit the individual). If the world isn't run by a shadowy cabal, if you begin to understand the structures responsible & how they manifest even on the scale of your block (e.g.!!! predatory developers buying up properties during a pandemic, tearing down affordable housing to build expensive condos on the lot, or giving old buildings a "spit and polish" so they can double the rent, pricing all the current residents out, not to mention all the little local businesses, almost all mexican & run by the mexican families who live here, that give our block its culture & will get pushed out by boutique coffee shops & the like, catering to a more affluent & almost certainly whiter clientele)--you can, in fact, change the world, something both of them repeatedly referred to as their purpose on earth. it may not be as a maverick figure, one against an army, but strength in numbers is an aphorism for a reason.

anyway! thse guys were also really weird about jews, in the philosemitic way conspiracy theorists of a certain stripe often are. the itinerant vagabond guy gave me one of his drawings; it's really lovely. i'm going to give them "are prisons obsolete?" & "the wretched of the earth" & some david graeber. 44 yr old guy has this idea that society is atomized & people aren't connected to each other & have lost the willingness or the ability to communicate with each other, also that the overreach of authority has driven some people to violence, & that makes the world feel unsafe to everyone else. he feels guilty because he is acutely aware that language, when wielded adroitly & intentionally, always has the capacity to manipulate; he is afraid of succumbing to the temptation, because he senses the coercive power of language within himself. the other guy was mostly quiet but said 44 yr old guy is one of the best friends he's ever had. he thinks animals are able to sense emotions and to heal, & he thinks they can mediate between people who have become too isolated, who have forgotten humans' innate ability to forge connections, approach others as social creatures seeking to bond instead of mistrustful, apprehensive, rejecting overtures of friendship because they expect subterfuge, or propriety has evolved to deem such overtures inappropriate outside of strictly delineated, artificially orchestrated contexts. deviation from the norm is not permitted. & back again to policing. they have an idea called "the omega family," omega for the end, a group of like-minded people who come together, who encounter each other serendipitously (predicted through auspicious auguries & recognized on sight through a constellation of signs & wonders, because of course we are all psychotic here, it was nice to just be psychotic & discuss these things like they were normal lol), & serve as catalysts to each other's "personal truth." anyway this is why i don't go out when i'm crazy, i always end up in situations like this, see also: the last time i did m*th, in a pizza hut bathroom in tallinn with an art student from glascow named muhammad ali (he went by ali), the son of white muslim converts--we thought it was c*ke but it got lost in translation & that's how i figured out i had adhd. later i got [redacted] by a filmmaker from kazan & he gave me his business card afterward for some reason, which was extremely funny. thankfully these dudes were better behaved. one of them even gave a speech about how men shouldn't rape people??? & also how our society shouldn't construct women as universal victims because in doing so it makes victimhood almost compulsory & shoehorns women into a victim role as part & parcel of womanhood? i was like yes my dude you are almost there, read the essay "abject feminism." (i did not tell them i was trans bc i wasn't sure how that would shake down, to be honest; couldn't get a read on it. did tell them i was gay & they respected it, though one did say he dated a lesbian once, & i explained that many men feel compelled to interject with an anecdote relating an exception to the rule or insist that they will he the exception to the rule, & it's really just bad manners, not even getting into the bad politics. he took it on the chin & talked about how the girl in question came home to find her partner dead of an overdose & his wife had just died of MS, so their relationship was more about grief & comfort than sexual attraction. i was like that's really, really sad, & it's wonderful that you were able to be there for each other at a time of such staggering loss, & i am a person who totally understands what you mean to communicate, but if a lesbian tells you they're a lesbian & you reply that you once dated a lesbian & they get offended & instead of responding with contrition or correction you elaborate on the tragic backstory of the relationship as though that explains the circumstances in which a self-proclaimed lesbian would date a cis man, other lesbians *will* deck you, or at the very least not take you, an unwashed white guy in

his 40s who isn't neurotypical & sits way too close for social convention in a way that could easily be construed as a come-on, in good faith.) tl;dr made some new friends, did some good drügs (i much prefer smoking m*th to snorting it, basically like purer, more potent adderall, & as such will not be doing it again for a LONG time, because i enjoy it FAR too much; slices through the brain fog & the chronic fatigue & the joint/bone pain, makes me able to pay attention, follow the thread of a conversation, actually be *interested* & want to ask *questions* & expand, build, encourage my interlocutor to elaborate, place more kal-toh pieces until the conversation shimmers into a three-dimensional shape, instead of being listless & exhausted & disengaged & *bored* all the time, so obviously i would get addicted immediately if given the opportunity, & i've known this forever lol)--now going to hydrate, refill pill case, write some emails, & meet C at the beach! not how i expected to reboot my brain, but it works! also putting them on limited facebook view because i try to keep some groups of people in my life quarantined from each other & that includes 1) my relatives & my academic ~colleagues (ne'er the twain shall meet), 2) my exes & my family, 3) my relatives, colleagues, & uh. a couple of lovely, but extremely psychotic dudes with very long criminal records i met while doing hard drugs

[wehatejulietsimms]

This is an Andy appreciation post. I’m re-listening to Vale because I never understood.

It has much religious imagery but it’s *more* than just metaphors and analogies.

There’s four views I’ve understood finally and maybe more.

I will not mention anything of the specifics BVB is fighting against in Vale because like I said, this is an appreciation post and I don’t want to bring up anything negative if I don’t have to make it a point. If anyone wants me to go further into detail about what specifically I feel is going on, just ask because my gut has a keen reception on lyrics and events.

1. Religious persecution:

To the unawakened folks or the ones that progressively sin in the name of God.

Fighting for equality that when people fuck up, it isn’t the death of them. Just the death of an ego and awakening into more self compassion.

2. Talking to the fans that are blind to reality

In many songs off Vale, Andy always talks about preaching but never fully being heard from the blind and innocent. He’s tired but he will keep fighting, because he wants to make an active change to the community in a way he can but feels weak from time to time, yet never giving up!

3. Ashley

When Ashley was outed publicly, Andy never dedicated this song to him but posted the lyrics with no caption when Ashley was accused. Throw the first stone.

4. Letter to self: acknowledging this is an end of a cycle. Hint: the album name and song lyrics.

Our Destiny is a big one. It’s not just a rock love song about trying to save a destiny between two people. It’s saving himself from his past “sins” “fuckups” and saying it’s not too late to heal, which it’s never too hate to heal from the past and present. I feel like it’s “hey, I’m going into ashes now but I’ve already made amends with it and I’ll rise again and again, however many times to make it out of mental and physical surroundings.” Also, I feel it was referencing Lost it All in a way, like most of his songs do, it’s a personal and universal message that there’s so much shit in life that will knock you down and you will heal while STILL in a hurt place physically. I really want to appreciate that truth that there’s a lot of healing that still is in the midst of pain. (Props to you, Andy!) Many abusive childhoods can resonate with that as well as being stuck in relationships/friendships/or generational curses including being in debt. (Which he mentions a lot in interviews) I really do think he’s gonna get out because he’s such a wise soul and nobody gives him props to healing, and being such a mature wise man even though he’s not at his highest or best surroundings. I mean, I don’t know any other artist that’s stuck in a shitty situation and is still uplifting, real, and promotes healing and is why so many BVB army members resonate with the music. I really respect he says that people heal themselves but use his music as a resonating device to heal, when fans say he’s their hero.

Andy has overcome addictions, has had to protect his life many times, has written so much uplifting and real wisdom from a dark place of mind or just straight up otherworldly strength and vulnerability which I admire because it’s beautiful and real, doesn’t have many real helpful people around him, has been a real role model by himself, is overcoming shame and lies & generation healing, he’s really had to rely on himself and I’m glad his band members really allow him to take control of the lyrics in such an inspiring way. Even though he’s still dealing and people pleasing to toxic people, remember everyone, people in abusive relationships and are trapped have to people please in order to stay alive and not get harmed. Many don’t understand that if they’ve never been abused. (They don’t need to understand, Andy! We see it) His perseverance is real and don’t judge someone for figuring out their own life. Sometimes freedom comes from music (even though other aspects from the rock industry contradict it). Let’s be supportive of him right now because he’s branching off into a new territory and finding out what’s working for him SAFELY. Yes, I don’t agree with a lot of what he says in his insecure moments in interviews and lies in his book/irl (gotta remember that’s a trauma brain response), but his music speaks in a way that is truth and can help many people going through many things and express it in a healthy way. Also I believe many fans live in denial about his life due to the fact that they’re probably living through it in their own life and can’t recognize it in another person. Or are attracted to his light but want nothing to do to help keep it alive as in tearing him down (secret haters). Anyways, I respect him for going above and beyond and it’s really admirable because like I said, nobody in the industry has ever done what he’s done. His art is perseverance.

5. He’s been a role model for so many hurting depressed people because they resonate to his own story and his strength is a catalyst for their own strength. I dislike when people deny he’s been living in trauma and overcoming many times in his life because that’s literally what this band was formed into. There’s so much evidence in his life and in the music. He’s had to take on a role for his (hurt & healing) self and it naturally became a safe space for BVB army to interact and resonate with him. He had to do that at 18/19 and if anyone’s that age or older, you know that age is just a child. I applaud him for being that young while having no parental guidance while creating something beautiful and divine, though I do empathize for his inner child. His albums are art that are darker, not evil, and is a place where children/adults who were rejected in any form can find solace in their own mind and thus can create healing. His words are moving and you have to applaud the man for keeping it together when people of all directions were hating on his every move and it was because he has such a big heart and everyone around him wants to keep him caged out of selfishness. Even when he had meltdowns and (not saying he couldn’t also be toxic because everyone has the capacity but meltdowns get overlooked because it’s a spur of the moment thing and everyone thinks it’s a violent episode but it’s due to triggers as well as not being sober) still wanted to show up for everyone including his own self that he knows himself to be, that he didn’t want to let rot. He’s really a strong soul and it gets overlooked a lot. He’s striving for betterment of himself for more than a decade (with so much persecution even in his own circle) and people keep wishing that “I hope he gets out” and this is how he’s helping himself for the moment until he can actually get out. So again, props to him. We’re proud of you, Andy! Keep going! We believe in you. Keep taking care of your overall being. Thanks for believing in us all of these years. Some of us even made it out of the hurt place we were in and are living happy, peaceful, healthy lives after trauma.

^^i literally almost teared up reading this. this is exactly why i love him so much (& what made me fall in love with him/BVB in the first place) you said everything perfectly. i honestly wish i could pin posts on here bc i really want this to be the first thing people read on the blog. as much as people think this blog is supposed to be outright hateful, (although it contradicts the name of the blog lol) i can assure you it's not. as fans we want the best for our favorite artists and when an artist has helped/continued to help you and so many other people out of dark places it sucks to see that through that they can't help themselves. i just want the best for him and for him to be 100% happy again. that's the purpose of this blog.

[queenlua]

You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)

this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share

under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.

my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing."  i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?

okay, so when i was

VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,

i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group

e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment

then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"

then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?

so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing.  and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"

which.  lmao.  full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"

so i decided to become

VERY CHRISTIAN

and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers.  and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.

like, i remember finding some blogger who said:

"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no!  my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"

and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things

(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)

still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb!  and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!

so at this point i started referring to myself as a

CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

i mean, not aloud.  i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person.  but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.

and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point.  i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.

unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*.  like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch.  but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so.  big L on that one.

having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically

AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST

by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies.  because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence.  there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine.  mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but!  it was something!

so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.

said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services).  however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously.  he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise.  while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.

this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.

in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power.  (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)

(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point?  sigh.)

the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became.  and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.

then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real.  the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.

(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality!  i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)

anyway, i started calling myself

AGNOSTIC/DRUID

around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.

but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as

SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING

because that's the most precise thing you can muster.  in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself.  it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there.  and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it.  i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!

WRT YOUR SITUATION

i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say

-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe.  if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting.  they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.

-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice.  (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like.  would not recommend a great swath of his writing.  but that one's good)

-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me.  like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit.  obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that!  maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?

idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~