#the book :/

[bonsai-maze]

AT LEAST WE DONT GOT SOME PALE WHITE GUY WITH THE MOST BASIC NAME EVER

LIKE WHO NAMES THE FUTURE KING 'george' AND NOT SMTH LIKE 'LUN' OR 'LANE' OR 'CONCRETE' OR SMTH COOL

chat I have a maths exam ima fail in 20 min :3

[soracities]

Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse: Fragments (trans. Richard Howard) [ID in ALT]

[greeneyed-thestral]

[julielilac]

1x02 // 2x06

[pratchettquotes]

Besides, she thought as she watched Wazzer drink, you only thought the world would be better if it was run by women if you didn't actually know many women. Or old women, at least. Take the whole thing about the dimity scarves. Women had to cover their hair on Fridays, but there was nothing about this in the Book, which was pretty dar--pretty damn rigorous about most things. It was done because it had always been done that way. And if you forgot, the old women got you. They could practically see through walls. [...]

Polly had forgotten her dimity scarf. She did wear it at home on Fridays, for no other reason than that it was easier than not doing so. She vowed that, if she ever got back, she'd never do it again.

Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment

[oak1985]

Did anyone else, when reading Good Omens, think that part of the point was that it’s unclear whether or not God exists in-universe? Like, there’s these two superpowers with incredibly similar bureaucracies (which run as not-at-all-thinly-veiled metaphors for the USSR and the US) and everyone in both bureaucracies—Hell as well as Heaven—are obsessed with figuring out God’s endgame. Said bureaucracies are both not very good at doing their actually job or even knowing what’s going on most of the time. And the literal end of the earth is attended by Satan (leader of Hell) and….Metatron, the Voice of God. When God doesn’t show up to Armageddon, I just assumed that meant God didn’t exist. Or at least, that part of the point is that everyone’s constantly reacting to an entity that may or may not actually exist but they build their whole lives around Him anyway.

Was this just my weird intrinsic agnosticism or did other people read it that way too?

[weirdlookindog]

Erika Hegewisch (b. 1937) - Das Buch (The Book)

[hel7l7]

I thought we could forgive each other

[dootznbootz]

Odysseus was afraid the entire year on Aeaea in the Odyssey.

Content warnings: Rape, Sexual Coercion, Sexual assault, Sex Work, power dynamics, this will also be long as fuck as I talk too much. This is NOT a "Circe the Goddess Hate Post". I call her out but that's it. I tried to keep this neutral but still making a point (Let me know if I gotta put more)

Lots of lovely folks on here have written great essays on what Calypso did to Odysseus as it's soooo blatantly obvious there. It literally states how he cried every day and how he flinched from Calypso, very straightforward on how he was explicitly raped.

But I've noticed that a lot of people are always iffy about Circe's situation (understandably so, it's not so in your face.) She's usually always mentioned in the "Odysseus never cheated! He was raped!" posts but then the evidence is only ever given against Calypso, and then mentioning how you can't say no or disobey the orders of an immortal and how it was in exchange for freeing his men.

WHICH IS ALL CORRECT!!! But!!!

There ARE immortal/mortal couples who genuinely love each other. Dionysus and Ariadne, and Eros and Psyche are examples. Apollo and Hyacinthus. Psyche indeed becomes immortal eventually and in some versions, both Hyacinthus and Ariadne do too. But even while mortal themselves, their immortal lovers still remained respectful and loving towards them and definitely doted on them. There are definitely power dynamics at play here but there's some nuance.

Odysseus and Circe's relationship, however, is very different. We all know he slept with her at the very least once. And that was in exchange for his men being returned to humans. That was the only time it was explicitly stated. With Calypso, it tells you every night he was enchanted and slept beside her. It was the narrator speaking but Odysseus is the narrator now and it's his story. If you think he lied, this probably won't change your mind anyway.

But even if it was a one-time thing, (which isn't the only interpretation and I will have points that talk about others) then why did he stay a year? What was he doing?

I'm doing a deep dive into the year he spent on Aeaea based on evidence in Book 10 and then the beginning of Book 12. Step by step, and honestly I'm writing this for Tumblr, not as a thesis so I will be a bit more casual but still using sources. To me, it's very obvious that he was uncomfortable throughout the text simply based on the language that is used. But it's very subtle and not an outright statement of "He's been crying every day."

BTW, just so we're clear, this is not a "Circe is the root of all evil, etc." type of post.

This isn't meant to villainize her. She's an immortal being and in mythology that changes things. Everybody is morally gray. I genuinely think if we were to ask her feelings on it, she'd probably be like "Oh, yeah! Turned his men into pigs! Strange little man he was." I don't think she gave a flying fuck.

I just simply get pissed tf off when people think Odysseus was fine. It honestly disturbs me how often I'll go on other websites YouTube and see everyone call him a whore and a womanizer. It's sexism at its finest because 1.) "MaN AlwAyS wAnTs sEx" and 2.) women can't rape/coerce. THIS IS SIMPLY TO LOOK INTO HIS FEELINGS ABOUT IT.

This is also only for Homer's Odyssey, using different translations. If you want to discuss this, (I'd be happy to! Just be nice!) DON'T BRING UP ANY OTHER WORKS.

With all that out of the way, come yell with me 🤗

I've read multiple translations, as I know there's going to be bias depending on who's translating. And having done so, each one has basically the same situations described the same so that's nice for consistency. Also, there are some parts in the story that are vague and that we'll never have answers to.

Odysseus first simply sees the smoke from her chimney and then sends his men in, after drawing lots Eurylochus leads half of the men to check out the house. I mentioned here vaguely how the 2 immortals he sleeps with are both introduced while singing and weaving, which could be seen as an enchantment (which to me is most likely. They both possess magic and are goddesses). So I'm just gonna move past that. Just take a peek and come back or just know that enchantment was likely.

Next, I'll see people often joke on Tumblr about how

"Odysseus says that Polites is his best friend yet only mentions him once!"

I think Odysseus mentions his best friend, the one to jubilantly go in first, to show WHY he would go through with this. How much these comrades mean to him. That's his best friend, and there are approximately 20 others who are now pigs as well. Could you knowingly leave one of your best friends to live a life like that knowing you could've done something?

[...]Circe—and deep inside they heard her singing, lifting her spellbinding voice as she glided back and forth at her great immortal loom, her enchanting web a shimmering glory only goddesses can weave. Polites, captain of armies, took command, the closest, most devoted man I had: ‘Friends, there’s someone inside, plying a great loom, and how she sings—enthralling! The whole house is echoing to her song. Goddess or woman—let’s call out to her now!’ So he urged and the men called out and hailed her. She opened her gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting them all in, and in they went, all innocence.

(Fagles, Book 10)

In the Odyssey, it's never mentioned why she turns people into animals. I think they were turned into pigs because, throughout the Iliad and Odyssey, Odysseus is often associated with boars. His men are associated with him, therefore: 🐖 Piggy. From what we know, the lads were just eating her food. With how much Xenia and hospitality are a large part of the story, they probably thought they were safe. They were GUESTS. This is especially welcome after the Cyclops and the Laestrygonians. And it literally says "All innocence". They were simply naive.

Then Eurylochus runs back, so terrified that he couldn't speak at first. He then begs Odysseus to just leave the men behind. Odysseus has shown that he does TRY to save his men when it is truly not reckless to do so.

But I shot back, ‘Eurylochus, stay right here, eating, drinking, safe by the black ship. I must be off. Necessity drives me on.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Then the famous warning from Hermes. I've seen folks bring this up when talking about this. YES, he is literally commanded by Hermes to not refuse her if he wants his men back in basically every translation. It sounds like Circe was warned as well. When? We don't know, but it sounds like Hermes didn't pick "sides" here.

Strange that he was still like, "Sleep with each other" to both, because he could've been like, "Circe, there's this guy named Odysseus. When he comes to this island, change his men back." But who knows, maybe it was Circe's idea from the beginning and Hermes went along with it. Just food for thought.

Now here’s your plan of action, step by step. The moment Circe strikes with her long thin wand, you draw your sharp sword sheathed at your hip and rush her fast as if to run her through! She’ll cower in fear and coax you to her bed— but don’t refuse the goddess’ bed, not then, not if she’s to release your friends and treat you well yourself. But have her swear the binding oath of the blessed gods she’ll never plot some new intrigue to harm you, once you lie there naked— never unman you, strip away your courage!’

(Fagles, Book 10)

But that doesn't explain why he was there for a year afterward! Nor if he himself was okay with it, which is what I'm trying to delve into as he wasn't.

Also the knife thing? She's still immortal. It was meant to startle her. Her dad is Helios. Odysseus would've been toast, literally.

Also note this exchange wasn't a "Yippee! Hermes says I'm going to get laid!".

...just approaching the halls of Circe, my heart a heaving storm at every step, paused at her doors, the nymph with lovely braids— I stood and shouted to her there. She heard my voice, she opened the gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting me in, and in I went, all anguish now …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Another translation by Ian Johnston, (they all say the same thing essentially but trying to make a point.)

I continued on to Circe’s home. As I moved on, my heart was turning over many gloomy thoughts. After I had walked up to the gateway                                                of fair-haired Circe’s house, I just stood there and gave a shout. The goddess heard my voice.                      She came out at once, opened her bright doors, and invited me inside. I entered, heart full of misgivings.

HE👏WAS👏SCARED! The tone is solemn and suspenseful. He was just told that without Hermes' help with the root, he wouldn't be able to survive and bring back his men. Circe was dangerous.

He made her swear not to harm him.

Straightaway she began to swear the oath that I required—never, she’d never do me harm—and when she’d finished, then, at last, I mounted Circe’s gorgeous bed …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Please note that she NEVER promised that to his men. His comrades did NOT have moli in their systems. He had no way of truly ensuring their safety in any way from Circe.

He then refuses to eat or speak, literally "lost in grim forebodings". If he "just got laid", then why isn't he happy? Not many men can say that a goddess CHOSE to have sex with them. He did it to get his men turned back. It was an exchange. I don't think Circe is "Evil" so maybe it slipped her mind. Or yes, she could've thought, "Hey, I got what I wanted. He's handsome enough. Homer never shuts up about how hot this guy is He hasn't brought up the pigs yet. I'll just let this play out. Maybe HE forgot. I don't have to do anything." We don't know. But Odysseus probably felt like he got deceived.

"Hey, I did my part of the deal. I slept with you. Now do yours."

She pressed me to eat. I had no taste for food. I just sat there, mind wandering, far away … lost in grim forebodings. As soon as Circe saw me, huddled, not touching my food, immersed in sorrow, she sidled near with a coaxing, winged word: ‘Odysseus, why just sit there, struck dumb, eating your heart out, not touching food or drink? Suspect me of still more treachery? Nothing to fear. Haven’t I just sworn my solemn, binding oath?’

So she asked, but I protested, ‘Circe— how could any man in his right mind endure the taste of food and drink before he’d freed his comrades-in-arms and looked them in the eyes? If you, you really want me to eat and drink, set them free, all my beloved comrades— let me feast my eyes.’ So I demanded.

(Fagles, Book 10)

He doesn't trust her despite what she had told him that he should when they sleep together. He has figured out that while she will not hurt him, his men were not a part of that oath, the men he was trying to protect in the first place.

She is then moved by how they rejoice when they see one another again. While turning people into animals for funsies isn't cool and coercion is fucked up, I think she comes to see this group as not quite friends but I think she did find them entertaining in a way.

This is very strange but I've seen some folks say that since Odysseus was pissed at Eurylochus for still not believing him about Circe is proof that "Oh he was trying to defend her!". Which??? Uh, Eurylochus was literally questioning his leadership as a whole. Calling him reckless and shit. He is captain and he's the King, he can't let that shit slide. The text literally says "Mutinous". Also if I had to sleep with someone I did not want to especially if it was to save my friends and I got called names afterward I'd get fucking pissed too.

Only Eurylochus tried to hold my shipmates back, his mutinous outburst aimed at one and all: ‘Poor fools, where are we running now? Why are we tempting fate?— why stumble blindly down to Circe’s halls? She’ll turn us all into pigs or wolves or lions made to guard that palace of hers—by force, I tell you— just as the Cyclops trapped our comrades in his lair with hotheaded Odysseus right beside them all— thanks to this man’s rashness they died too!

They stay a year. Again it's never stated that Odysseus slept with her that whole time. You could interpret that. (Honestly, I feel Circe would get bored with him? She's a goddess, she's got more important matters than mortal men. And she definitely doesn't love him.)

His men DO have to bring it up that "Odysseus has forgotten his native land." Maybe they thought they could sneak out without her knowing??? I am fucking REACHING but hold on as Telemachus did because he knew Nestor would well, be Nestor and try to coax him with "Have a meal with us! Let me tell you about how badass I used to be in my youth." But to sneak away from a goddess? Without her permission? That won't end too well. Aeolus in the beginning kicked out Odysseus when he tried to ask for another bag of wind. If she didn't want him around, she could literally boot him out. While she didn't force him to stay like Calypso did, she didn't "release" him either.

We don't know if they've been asking for a long time. Odysseus does say to Circe that they have been begging him nonstop, but he could also be saying that to try and convince her. He's good at persuasion. I think while he knew he could rely on her for food, shelter, and good advice, he still didn't feel...SAFE with her. I think he was possibly avoiding her personally.

I think HOW he asks her to leave is important to know as well.

...but I went up to that luxurious bed of Circe’s, hugged her by the knees and the goddess heard my winging supplication: ‘Circe, now make good a promise you gave me once— it’s time to help me home. My heart longs to be home, my comrades’ hearts as well. They wear me down, pleading with me whenever you’re away.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Throughout all of Homer's works, the characters grasp another's knees when they are desperate and are literally at the other person's mercy. Priam did when begging Achilles for Hector's body back. The man who literally killed his son and was defiling his body by dragging it around. Leodes grabs Odysseus' knees to beg for his life before Ody kills him. If he saw her as a friend, and not a captor, WHY DID HE FEEL THE NEED TO BEG IN ORDER TO LEAVE?! No one, who is in a healthy relationship, has to BEG for permission to leave. Or to "Break up", if you interpret them as still sleeping together.

And even Circe acknowledges that he is there against his will!

‘Royal son of Laertes, Odysseus, old campaigner, stay on no more in my house against your will.

(Fagles, Book 10)

[...]Odysseus, man of many resources, scion of Zeus, son of Laertes, don’t stay here a moment longer against your will

(A.S. Kline, Book 10)

This is probably another reach that you can ignore but the whole "they wear me down", could be trying to appease her. "Look, you're REALLY cool, it's actually my crew that wants to leave hahahah please don't kill them"

I mentioned before how Telemachus snuck away from Nestor but that was simply out of necessity because he needed to go home now. Not rest for the night. NOW. Nestor is just everyone's grandpa. Menelaus kind of talked more but Telemachus is very straight up in "Please I have to go now" and Menelaus immediately got things ready for him. He never has to beg and clasp his knees. Telemachus was never afraid. Menelaus is a fun uncle and Helen is your cool auntie.

Back to Circe! She tells him instructions for the underworld, they were in her bedroom. But that might've been the only way to speak with her. As even Penelope is usually away from the suitors when they are in her halls, Circe may have done the same. The text never states she played hostess physically. If she was hosting in the halls during the day, why did Odysseus wait until night to talk to her? He could've just asked her while she was on her throne in front of everyone. (He did so with the Phaeacians)

Or maybe he went alone because she only swore an oath to not harm him and so he didn't want his men near if she decided she didn't want to let them go. I could be missing something here so feel free to say something. Idk if this was a pride thing on how "I don't want others to see me beg".

She has info he needs in order to go home as well. She tells him to go to the Underworld.

She gave him new fine clothes and put on pretty clothes herself but that doesn't mean they had sex. Nausicaa gave him nice clothes as well but he never slept with her.

Then he leaves. Immediately. Not even doing a headcount as he didn't realize one of his men had died. (That was negligence on his part but he wanted out) He booked it, to the UNDERWORLD BY THE WAY. Circe even had to sneak the animals he needed for the sacrifice. Odysseus even basically said "She's a goddess. She can do things mortals can't" at the end of the book. And it almost feels...Numb? Solemn? Neutral? Gives a "It is what it is" vibe.

But Circe got to the dark hull before us, tethered a ram and black ewe close by— slipping past unseen. Who can glimpse a god who wants to be invisible gliding here and there?

(Fagles, Book 10)

She’d slipped past us with ease, for who can see a god move back and forth, if she has no desire to be observed?

(Johnston, Book 10)

She's a goddess. She has magic. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.

NOW ON TO BOOK 12!!! That was long! GET A SNACK AND WATER! LUCKILY THIS'LL BE SHORTER!

In Book 11, Odysseus swears, upon all his loved ones in Ithaca, to Elpenor that he'd give him a proper burial as he's been "unwept, unburied". So in Book 12, he sails back to Aeaea to fulfill his promise.

But you know what's funny to me?

He didn't tell Circe he was there.

He didn't even go to greet Circe himself. He sent his men to go get Elpenor's body.

The biggest clue that he didn't love/trust her is that if she was his "Affair partner" then why not go see her for "one last night together"?

SHE came out herself and pulled him aside to know what happened and then gave more advice.

I dispatched some men to Circe’s halls to bring the dead Elpenor’s body. [...]

Nor did our coming back from Death escape Circe— she hurried toward us, decked in rich regalia, handmaids following close with trays of bread and meats galore and glinting ruddy wine. [...]

But Circe, taking me by the hand, drew me away from all my shipmates there and sat me down and lying beside me probed me for details

(Fagles, Book 12)

In every translation, it talks about how he sits, and she lounges/lies down. That's not sex 🙃 In some translations, it even says he tried to be with his shipmates but she pulled him away!

So we lay down and slept beside our ship’s stern cables. But Circe took me by the hand and led me away, some distance from the crew. She made me sit, while she stretched out beside me on the ground. 

(Johnston, Book 12)

Then, she gives advice about the sirens, Charybdis, Scylla, and her father's Cattle. He tries to ask if he could save all his men. She scolds him for even thinking he could try. He again books it out of there.

I think we all know it wasn't "love". But I think a lot of people think Odysseus was willing and happy with whatever this was. "Friends with Benefits", if you will. I guess you could see it that way but I will say that makes me feel itchy with the whole power dynamic and fear. I don't think folks who have that arrangement have to beg on their knees to ask if they can leave though.

I mean the entirety of Book 10 gives me the vibes of "Laughing uncomfortably because you don't want to upset the other person". To just grin and bear it.

A lot of this was just putting the text here and picking it apart step by step. What you do with this is up to you. It's rambling while banging pots and pans together.

Maybe you see him as drugged the entire year and still sleeping together, as the moli "wore off". Even then, just because her magic can't affect him, there are plenty of natural concoctions that can be created that can affect mortals.

Maybe you see the entire year as sex work in exchange for shelter and food.

Maybe he was just alongside his men the whole time under her roof and was avoiding her after the exchange. After he got asked by his men to finally leave, he would start to walk up to that room only to freeze and turn around, thinking "One more day won't hurt. Should wait until I know she's in a sympathetic mood".

I beg of you, however, PLEASE understand that there was fear and coercion throughout his entirety on Aeaea. He wasn't staying to get laid. While there is so much going on and too many things that are left vague to really know exactly what happened, it is consistent that he was scared/numb. Lots of people go through with things they don't really want to do just to appease others. There are plenty of situations of sexual trauma where one person goes through something and the other has no idea the other person isn't okay. ESPECIALLY WHEN SOMEONE CAN HARM THE PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT AT ANY MOMENT!

Sexual trauma is a very complicated thing and while he was scared, he definitely wasn't as traumatized by her as he was by Calypso. Calypso was a torturous hell while Circe was a year of walking on eggshells. Not comparable but I still think it should be acknowledged. It's wild because I read the Odyssey and kept thinking "Y'all are calling the sex slave a cheater? The guy who slept with a goddess to get his men back? The ultimate simp apparently doesn't love his wife??"

Things I'm adding that shouldn't affect the argument as it is not in the Odyssey but I want to mention as it's a "fun fact": Odysseus' dad was an Argonaut. Laertes probably met Circe as well, (or knew of her) with the whole purifying thing and maybe Odysseus heard his dad tell stories of her. Later myths also have Circe with the habit of turning her crushes (or their lovers) into something with Scylla and Picus.

In conclusion, Yeah, he was afraid of her. At least to an extent. And don't pull the whole "Ancient men didn't get raped". Male victims exist and deserve compassion for what was done to them and women are capable of sexual abuse. If you think otherwise, you are not a true feminist and Fuck you. I said in the beginning this'll be casual and I don't wanna write a fancy ending. You can still think Circe is neat but you have to know that this was fucked up.

If you think a lot of this is bullshit or wanna give more context or wish to yell with me but still know he wasn't alright on Aeaea, cool. If you want to point out mistakes or something I should keep in mind with interpretations then feel free to say so but give text evidence. If you try and bring up the Telegony and/or Madeline Miller's Circe, fuck clean off. This is Homer. If you call Odysseus a whore and not the malewife he canonically is I'll start biting. 😤

[bloodiedrogue]

THE BOOK

SUMMARY: After stumbling upon an old journal, Lelia realizes it's that time again.

PAIRING: Astarion & Original Female Character (Lelia belongs to @gunslingerorchid!)

WORD COUNT: 4,629

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, vaguely described heat cycles in elves, teasing, penetrative sex, creampie.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finally managed to finish something after weeks away. Promise I'll be more active as soon as my back heals up! <3

MASTERLIST

-

It starts with a book. An old tattered thing, barely bound and sitting inside the drawer of an abandoned desk. Coated in maroon leather and gold leaf lettering, it immediately piques Lelia’s interest. Pulling her attention away from all the items she should be seeking —forcing her eyes to narrow at the cover curiously. 

Attempting to make out the script on the front, she knows it should be easy to decipher but somehow her mind can’t quite focus thanks to the heavy breathing that hits the back of her neck and how it rhythmically puffs against her skin, prompting her eyes to peer behind her. 

“Can I help you?"

“What’s that?” Looming over her shoulder, Astarion slips against her side without warning and reaches for the book, feeling a hand grasp his wrist before he can fully take hold of it. 

“You know the rules, Astarion: finders keepers,” she grumbles, and immediately he rolls his eyes. 

“I didn’t realize we’d reverted back to acting like school children.”

In response, she offers him an annoyed sound and bumps her hip against his, grabbing the book in tandem before scurrying off. Distractedly, leaving him alone to claim whatever else she may have left behind. Hardly caring about whatever inkwells or parchments he might find she focuses back on the book, noticing just how much it’s deteriorated. 

Very carefully she runs her fingers along the cover, brushing back stray pieces of leather —attempting to make the title more visible as she wanders through the deserted house they now find themselves in. A feat that proves rather difficult at first, testing her patience and curiosity all at once. Making her faintly regret grabbing the damn thing as she glances over at Astarion picking one of the desk’s locks. 

Swallowing hard, she can’t help but stare as he does it. Noticing the dexterous way he tilts his hands, moving his fingers with such ease it feels almost unnatural. As if this skill of his is something no mere mortal could ever do.

Almost immediately, it makes her cheeks warm at the thought of what those fingers might be capable of elsewhere. For example, how they might look caressing one’s cheek or thigh. How they’d easily slip across skin or through hair. How they—

Before she can continue she shakes her head to get the thought out. A low scoff escaping her lips as she turns away, wondering where the hell that came from. Or why she suddenly feels uncomfortably warm. 

“You alright over there, darling?” 

His voice sounds unnecessarily smug —an observation she quickly confirms when she blinks and looks his way, noticing the smirk plastered across his face. Focusing on the smallest twitch that occurs when she awkwardly nods. 

“You sure?”

“Mhm, all good,” she mumbles back, but in reality she’s anything but. 

In fact, the longer she stands there, staring back at him —memorizing the sections of his face with far more focus than needed— she’s left wondering what it’d feel like to press herself against it. To feel that overly proud set of lips suctioned around her. To experience the brush of his tongue and nose—

She practically chokes on her spit before she can finish. Reaching up to grab her throat, she quickly turns away, ignoring the airy sound of Astarion’s chuckle as she leaves the room, trying her best to focus on something other than riding the rogue’s face. Something that proves rather difficult until she remembers the book in her hand. Then she’s a bit more stable. Her mind roaming a bit less as she opens it up, feeling the worn-out pages shift beneath her hand.

Unlike the cover, she can read its contents pretty easily. Despite the scrawl being a bit messy, with far less effort than before, she can make out almost every word. Quickly discovering that it’s someone’s diary. Specifically, an eleven woman, tracking the course of her life. All of her experiences reduced to nothing more than the pages now tucked into Lelia’s curious hands. 

It shouldn’t intrigue her as much as it does, but even long after she and the rest of the party have returned to camp, Lelia’s still reading. Wedging her nose further and further inside the pages, absorbing every last sordid detail. 

“You seem awfully entranced over there.” 

The second Gale’s elbow meets her own she jumps in surprise, slamming the book shut with a quiet gasp. All while staring into the wizard’s confused eyes as he glances at Wyll across the fire. 

“Good book?”

“Mhm, yup.”

“What’s it about?” Wyll chimes in, prompting Lelia to awkwardly laugh and shrug her shoulders, causing both men to share a look. One that has Lelia immediately excusing herself at the same time Astarion wanders over, watching her dart off towards her tent. 

“Gods, is she still—“

“Acting strangely?” Gale cuts Astarion off with a smirk, prompting him to raise his brow. 

“She’s been jumpy ever since she found that thing.” 

“What? The book?” Wyll asks, and Astarion nods. 

“I would be too if I was publicly reading elven smut.” 

Almost immediately, both Wyll and Astarion look at Gale with interest. Both of their mouths pulling into odd smiles that have Gale snorting in response. 

“I’m sorry, did I just hear you say elven smut?”

This time Gale merely shrugs his shoulders, holding back a mischievous look that has Astarion practically sprinting to his lover’s tent. His mind racing with all kinds of relentless ideas that quickly form into a full-blown plot that’s set into motion the second he sees her lying there, still reading. 

“You know, darling, I’m a bit offended.” 

Like earlier, she jumps dramatically, clutching her chest as she tucks the book beneath her pillow. Prompting both her and Astarion to share a moment of silence before he’s kneeling between her legs, slowly crawling to press a hand to her heated face. 

“The day’s nearly ended and you’ve barely given me any attention,” he states, offering a pout. Focusing on the way her whole body shifts with every breath that stirs beneath him. “I mean, honestly, what’s so special about that damned book anyway?” 

At first, she hesitates to do anything but lay there, but eventually, her hands move to cup his cheeks, carefully caressing the highest points —telling him it’s nothing even though her tone says otherwise. 

Coming out more like a guilty squeak than a proper string of words, as soon as he hears her response Astarion knows that she’s hiding something. Something bigger than he first assumed based on the way her eyes keep moving toward the pillow beneath her head —a bright blush creeping across her face. Or how her skin feels scarily similar to Karlach’s on a good day. 

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I just…”

Immediately, his fingers creep towards the pillow, prompting her to suddenly grab his hand and pull him down, capturing him in a rough kiss. Most likely as an act to distract his mind as the two of them all but melt into each other’s embrace. That familiar jolt of admiration striking his heart in ways that stupidly have him faltering for a moment before remembering why he’s here. 

He wants that book. Or more specifically, wants to see what’s so special about its contents. So, instead of asking he just continues to kiss her. Using all the usual tricks, he takes a few moments to soften the pressure of his mouth, allowing her breath to grow desperate against his before eventually pulling away with a grin. “Seems you needed that more than me.” 

Before she can even think of a clever response there’s already an angered huff slipping through, prompting Astarion to chuckle as he positions himself against her side, resting his head on her chest. “Gale told me you were reading smut,” he then says bluntly, feeling her tense beneath him. Every muscle in her body tightening to the point of combustion as she pushes him aside and scoffs. 

“It is not smut.”

“No?”

As he turns to face her, now lying on his side with a wicked grin, she can’t help but falter. Her lips twitching in response to his question —her eyes shifting towards the book that still rests beneath her pillow, causing Astarion’s lips to pull even further knowing that he’s caught her.  

“What is it then?”

“A diary.” 

He raises his brow. “About sex?”

Once again, she pauses. Her lack of attention betraying her case. 

“Is it at least good sex?”

When she fails to respond a third time, Astarion begins to grow impatient. His mind reeling with thoughts of her and what might pique her interest in regards to the subject. How she might feel when one does certain things versus others. How she’d react to different sensations depending on the placement.

Perhaps how it’d feel to have his cock inside her mouth. 

As his mind begins to fill with more curious thoughts, he starts to slip over top of her again, bending down to peck her lips before suddenly denying her any further pleasure as he stands up with a sigh, telling her to enjoy her book before leaving the tent altogether. 

Which ultimately leaves her confused. And frustrated, seeing as the space between her legs is suddenly aching with need. The desire to be touched heavy on her mind as those same thoughts of her and Astarion from earlier in the day become increasingly vivid the longer she lies there, staring up at the fabric of her tent. Wishing just once that instead of becoming easily flustered she could just admit that she’s definitely going into heat. And with that, wants to fuck him more than anything.

Which is a concept she’s unfortunately all too familiar with. Having experienced a few waves of heat already, as the moments pass she’s quickly reminded just how distracting it can be. With an endless stream of filthy thoughts and the physical sensations of someone who’s far too wound up to be deemed useful, she can tell that, as the days pass, it’ll only become more of a problem. That the needs of her body will far outweigh the words of her mind telling her to calm down. 

It’s what always happens when she doesn’t deal with it —an unfortunate circumstance considering they’re far too busy with the Absolute to merely stop for a few quickies on the way to ease the heat. 

So, instead of giving in, she merely suffers through the night alone. Using whatever she can to distract herself from the itch that creeps through her mind, telling her to go to his tent. Forcing herself to eventually fall asleep in order to wake up thoroughly refreshed and—

“You alright, soldier?”

Lazily, Lelia blinks and turns to Karlach the next morning at breakfast, feeling her stomach churn with anxiety. “Sorry?”

“You look hot.” 

Dropping her jaw, she feels her heart rate double almost instantly. The embarrassment of her ongoing problem causing her chest to heave up and down beneath the fabric of her top —everything feeling slightly more damp as she turns away uncomfortably. 

“You breaking out in a fever or something?” Karlach asks. Then, out of habit, she shuffles away from the elf, immediately assuming that she’s the cause of her friend’s heated expression, prompting Lelia to shake her head and fidget with the fabric of her skirt.

“I uh… maybe, yeah. Perhaps I should lay down before we go out for the day.”

Raising her brow, Karlach shakes her head. “To hell with going out, I can feel the heat coming off your body from here.”

“It’s fine Karlach, really, I—“

Almost immediately the tiefling cuts her off with an angry stare. The kind a mother would give to their defiant child, causing Lelia to merely give in with a sigh, wandering back to her tent without another word. Falling into her bedroll with a groan before rolling onto her side, knowing that Karlach’s right. She should just rest instead of pushing her body —pretend to be sick so that she can sleep things off for a couple of days. 

It’d certainly work if she played up the symptoms. Considering everyone’s far too involved in their own problems to get sick, they’d probably leave her alone. Maybe check in on her at the beginning of the day to see how she’s fairing, but nothing too overbearing. 

Which is exactly what she needs to get through this. So, that’s exactly what she does. Using her years of performance experience to cough up a storm —moaning and groaning until she inevitably hears the crew pack up for the day and leave. Granting her the opportunity to once again leave her tent, journal and songbook in hand, as she wanders to the nearby creek, feeling a wave of calm rush over her.

Because it’s been ages since she’s had any sort of alone time. Thanks to the endless travelling and ever-increasing supply of friends to keep her company, at this point, the only time she’s spent alone is when she’s pissing or sleeping. And even the latter sometimes gets interrupted by a starving Astarion unwilling to feed on anyone else. 

So, despite the feeling of heat that continues to spread across the surface of her skin and the thoughts that keep trailing back to the aforementioned vampire, she feels pretty good. The distractive sound of the running water becoming the perfect backdrop for her to pull out her songbook and brainstorm.

Opening it to the last used page, she reads a few previous ideas, humming lowly to herself while tapping her hand against her hip. Using the beat to time her steps as she paces back and forth, trying to wrap her mind around what the strings might sound like. Particularly how they might rise and fall with each line, conveying the image of the tides she references in the lyrics. 

“I suppose I could change that…” 

Grinning to herself, she writes a few notes along the edges, reminding future her to change this and that —adding a few potential options for other lines she might like to use. All while still humming and moving, using whatever tactic she can to erase the increasingly sick part of her mind thinking of Astarion and his beautiful hands and face and—

“I see you grew tired of the sex book.”

As if on cue, he appears behind her. Flashing that usual smug look as he eyes the songbook in her hand, watching as she protectively clutches it to her chest and frowns. 

“Why aren’t you with the others?”

Without hesitation, he raises his brow knowingly. “Why aren’t you?”

“I’m sick.” 

“Are you now?”

“Mhm.” 

Slowly, he takes a step closer toward her, watching her eyes dart around the forest guiltily. “But you’re upright.”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” 

By now her breath is practically non-existent. Nothing but a fond memory as she struggles to maintain any sort of composure, watching him slither up to her frame, pressing the base of his chest against the edge of her arm. Making her realize just how delirious she feels the second he snatches the book from her hand, taking a step back. 

“Playing hooky to write some sonnets, are we?” 

Helplessly reaching out to snatch it back, she’s instantly met with his hand around her wrist. His fingers tightening around to keep her still as he reads out loud, butchering a few of the lines on the way. 

“Rather cliché, isn’t it? A love song referencing the sea?” 

Grumbling in response, Lelia tries again to grab it, only to fail a second time, causing Astarion to laugh and release her from his grasp. 

“I mean honestly, not one sordid little lyric about yours truly?” He offers an offended scoff and begins flipping through the pages, looking over a couple of lyrics before he lands on a particular page, stopping in his tracks. Narrowing his eyes before another smirk pulls across his lips, prompting Lelia to swallow. 

“Hey, that’s private—“

Before she can finish, he’s clearing his throat and changing positions, moving closer to her frame —reaching out to cup her cheek with a tenderness he doesn’t often exude. Pressing his fingers gently into the plushest part of her face, she can feel him exhale deeply. A rush of air running across her skin before she hears him speak, reciting words she knows all too well but in a tone completely different from the one she initially had in mind.

Almost immediately, it makes her itch with need. The combination of the proximity and the building heat within her working against the defiant thoughts within —forcing her to slowly inch closer as her hand creeps up towards his chest, debating whether or not to push or pull the longer the moment builds.

“Hm, didn’t realize you liked all that.” 

Blinking, she foolishly opts to push him away after he’s suddenly finished, scowling as she rips back her book. Scoffing at the constant games she’s forced to participate in while he laughs. “Yes, well, as I was saying, it’s private.” 

“Is it now?” Astarion, still riding off the high of making her flustered, merely hums and looks around after that. His eyes wandering across the exposed parts of her skin, noticing the unnatural glow. “Then how come you like it?”

“I’m sorry?” She looks at him confused, prompting him to invade her space again. Shifting chest to chest as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“When I tease you,” he clarifies, dipping his head. Moving his mouth to graze the shell of her ear. “You seem to like it a bit more than usual as of late. Why is that?” 

Opening her mouth to respond, she quickly closes it and cranes her neck back, watching his gaze explore her own. His pupils shifting from edge to edge; his tongue darting out to wet his lips —every movement feeling far too calculated to be deemed anything but planned.

It makes her wonder if he knows. If perhaps, instead of remaining fully in the dark about her little problem, he’s already made his way towards the light. Noticing the changes in her behaviour. Recognizing the undeniable need that circulates throughout her system every time he’s around. 

It’d certainly be possible, considering before Cazador he probably experienced at least a few other elves in a similar position. Having grown up amongst them, his knowledge of heat cycles is at least minimal. If not more when you take into account his flirtatious nature. So, it’s entirely possible that this whole book-stealing nonsense is just a way to get to her to admit it: 

That for once, she truly does need him.

“You should probably get back. Wouldn’t want you to catch whatever I’ve got.” Chuckling sheepishly, she raises her hand to his chest once more, attempting to create space. Forcing him a couple of centimetres back before he somehow maneuvers himself closer than before.

“Pretty sure I can’t.” 

“What? You think just because you’re a spawn you can’t get sick?” 

“Well yes, actually. I suppose I am immune to all that but—“

“But what?”

By the time their exchange is over he’s fully pressed against her. Both his chest and hips digging into her flesh as his hands tightly hold her waist in place, refusing to let go. “You really think I don’t know?”

“Know what?” 

All he does is snort while she wonders if she can withstand it —all the symptoms working against her, doubling with each passing moment she’s unable to break free. Up until now it hasn’t been too difficult. Annoying? Sure. Frustrating? Absolutely. But unavoidable? 

Deep down, she knows the answer is the same as the others. Regardless of how much she pretends this moment won’t end up exactly where it’s supposed to, she’ll inevitably wind up on her knees, begging for relief while Astarion smugly stands above her. An image that simultaneously makes her angry and needy. The base of her pelvis unknowingly twitching forward, feeling his length. Suddenly noticing how hard it is against her. 

“So, when did it start?”

Giving in, she releases a hefty plume of air through her nose while frowning. “A couple of days ago.”

“Before the book?” He raises his brow. 

All she does is shrug, unable to respond on account of the fact that she’s burning up. Hot flashes of pain writhing through her system, wreaking such boisterous havoc on her flesh that she can’t help but gasp when his fingers flex against her. 

“Would you like me to help, darling?” Offering her a pout, he looks down at her hands, noticing how red they are. The subtle stench of her nerves wafting through the air, ripping through his nostrils like the most delicious scent he’s ever encountered. “To ease the pain?”

Even before he’s finished asking she’s gripping the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to hold on as the burning travels down, rushing through her chest and stomach, gathering between her aching thighs only to slip over her dampened folds.

At which point, the only thing she can think about is him. However he wants to have her, whether it’s on her knees or pressed up against a fucking tree. It doesn’t matter. 

“Come on, darling. Use your words.” 

She feels the edge of his thumb brush across her lips. A small touch with hefty consequences that leave her heaving for air, unable to properly think as she shakily mutters out the softest please before feeling him move. Both of them ignoring the sweat that coats her skin as he cups her face with both hands, smiling one last time. 

“Should’ve said something sooner.” 

Even though she knows he’s right, she fails to care. The second that their lips are locked, it’s as if the mere concept of time ceases to exist. The only thoughts inside her mind being him and her and the cold brush of his lips starting to smother the fire.

Which makes every salacious image she’s conjured over the last day or two come to the forefront. Every one of them becoming an amalgamation of desire feeling Astarion’s hands lower to the buttons of her blouse. How they rapidly work to pull the fabric apart to expose her breasts. Hardly caring about the garment when he inevitably chucks it away before lowering his mouth to her neck.

“Mm, it’s been a while since I’ve had you like this, hm?” 

His voice is low, almost like a growl, and despite knowing that she should at least fear it a little, all Lelia can think about is how it might feel against her cunt. The reverberations of lusty proclamations spoken between her thighs. The waft of his breath mixed with the movement of his lips and tongue. 

It’s all too much. A mixture of far too much and not enough, forcing her to push Astarion away, taking a moment to breathe. “Wait… hold on… wa—“

“Are you alright?” 

She is, in some cases. For example, she’s fine with the fact that this is finally happening. That the reprieve she needs is on the horizon, but gods, she cannot stand the pace. Not right now. 

“Can we… can we cut the foreplay, maybe? Or…” She wipes a shaking hand across her face, sucking in enough air to regain control of her lungs. “Sex now, foreplay after?” 

All it does is make him laugh and concede, giving her a nod as he begins to untuck his shirt, prompting her to take off her pants. Neither one of them commenting on the way she nearly falls over in the process before she rushes to help him out of his. 

“You’re really having quite the time with all this.”

This time there’s no smugness in his voice as he towers over her. In fact, as she guides the fabric down his legs, kneeling to help him take off his boots, all she hears is kindness. Subtle hints of sympathy laced throughout the touch of remorse eventually pressing into her hips, lowering her down to the forest floor. Maneuvering her into the perfect position before he’s running his fingers across her slit, feeling for the first time how wet she is.

“Apologies for the wait,” he tells her then, forcing back a grin that has her breathing so hard she’s certain she’s going to pass out.

“Astarion, please just—“

He lowers his mouth to her breast at the same time he lines himself up, teasing her for only a second or two before he’s pushing inside, hearing the loud groan she lets out. Savouring the shudder of her chest as he bites her nipple and begins to shift his hips.

And at first, it feels good. Every ripple of movement filling the space within her. Every jolt of pressure as he hits that particular spot resulting in the heat throughout her skin to settle. But quickly it becomes insufficient. A sequence of movements too predictable to force her over the edge. 

It makes her whine under her breath. The kind that makes him slow down and stare with concern, wondering what’s wrong until she’s pushing him away and tucking away loose hairs —taking a moment to regain her thoughts before she’s desperately looking at him. 

“I think I need to go on top.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he just laughs and settles back into the grass, allowing his partner to mold him to her liking. Feeling her hands push apart his thighs before she carefully sits on his cock.

“Oh, fu—"

Almost immediately her head falls forward. As his calves tighten around her waist to hold her steady, he can’t help but revel in the feeling. How she twitches around him, fluttering across his skin before she begins to move up and down, carefully grinding. 

It makes both of them breathless all over again as they work in tandem, bouncing and balancing. Neither one of them able to deny the pleasure they’ve sought out in this moment. 

Too focused on completion, Lelia’s head’s completely empty. Her mind becoming an endless abyss of commands telling her body to grab his throat and squeeze. To lightly scratch patterns onto his stomach as she tries to push herself to the brink. To ignore the world in favour of Astarion’s cock providing the friction she needs to calm herself down.

Even her voice, begging to sing the praise of her efforts is all but lost. A quiet echo that fails to reach the air as she feels the pressure in her building —the band nestled within her working to snap until—

She feels the brush of his knuckles against her clit before she finally loses herself. The softest graze of flesh finally acting as the tipping point of her pleasure, resulting in her doubling over. 

Pressing her hands against her partner’s chest to stabilize herself as he continues pumping, she struggles to ride the waves. Each push becoming more intense than the last, prompting her to cry out, feeling him come. A feeling that takes a while to wind down from. Both of them gasping for air, unable to move as she feels the spill inside her start to slip out. 

“Gods, that was…”

He interrupts her with an airy laugh. “Exactly what you hoped for?”

Nodding almost furiously, she feels her leg cramp up, resulting in her rising upwards only to fall beside him, the image of the afternoon sky there to greet her before she turns to face him, wondering something. 

“How did you know, by the way?”

Looking back at her, he shrugs his shoulders but ultimately gives in, saying, “I took a peak at your book when you were sleeping,” before hearing her snort and shake her head, guessing as much.

-

TAGLIST:

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(taglist continued in reblogs)

[judeswhore]

i’d like to thank everyone for this look

[mandareeboo]

You know I never thought I'd be into writing period pieces but now I'm like four chapters into this 1930s book of mine and it's like:

[soracities]

Patrick Nunn, from "The stories of oral societies aren't "myths"; they're records", pub. Aeon

[celesrangebsd]

The World?

Chapter 119 Spoilers

I was rereading Beast and near the end when Dazai is talking about the world taking place in the book, there’s this panel;

To paraphrase, it basically says that things written in the book switches places with the real world. So, the world isn’t the original.

And we know Fyodor wrote in the book, not to mention that in 119 Fyodor mentions that the book is their origin and originally I took this as a metaphor but then…why would a world need a bookmark as Fyodor called Atsushi. A world inside the book would need one but not the original.

So, the world we’re seeing could just be an alternate timeline and the original world is far away. This could also explain why everyone didn’t really die but instead get ‘materialized’, turned into atoms or dust or whatever. Their existence ripped out of the world, because it’s not their original world.

[greeneyed-thestral]

Why did you stop?