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New home over here~ @champagneandparacosm

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New home over here~ @champagneandparacosm

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New home over here~ @champagneandparacosm

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His religion sounded like a cult. Or a dictatorship. Tyranny. Anything but a lifesaving, life changing for the better experience. Perhaps she should read a bible or whatever. Figure out what she was up against. Joanna was at a loss on what she’d been thrusted into. How was she supposed to know what it took to be a demon? No one gave her an instruction manual. Of course they didn’t, for nothing could be that easy in life, so it certainly couldn’t be easy in death. She’d struggled as a human. She would struggle as a- demon. It was hard for her to even admit it.

Joanna snorted, humor pushing her brows from her eyes with a chuckle. “Well, as long as it’s not tacky or pretentious.” Her remark faded out quickly, finding it difficult to tease about such an offer. Her life was centered around uncaring assholes who’s idea of a good time was ten minutes in the back of their cramped BMW or some terrible excuse for a blowjob. (Not on her account. Never. But on theirs as they never lasted long enough for it to be satisfying.) they’d never wanted to take her out to dinner and mean it. Somehow, she knew Chase meant it. “Should probably wait before we celebrate too early. Might be a fleeting coincidence unrelated to your magical dick.” Because it was still magic, even if he didn’t have anything to do with her senses returning. “I guess we can celebrate that. I know I am.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, the first bit of skin she could reach without effort before she stepped away from the water to step onto the rug outside and get a towel.

When she was sixteen, she was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder. Her mother refused to put her daughter on medication and numb her to the world. Joanna agreed, of course, because she was already handling it. She’d been self medicating for years before the diagnosis, and she was still alive. There wasn’t anything she wanted to change. The diagnosis was ignored, and she continued on with her life without therapy. Talking about her feelings had never been her strong suit. Repression was much easier.

Repression seemed unbearably impossible now, having gone through a range of emotion in the past hour. Anger, sadness, confusion, happiness, jealousy… she was drowning in a cocktail of immediate changes. They changed so quickly she could hardly stick to one and find the root cause of it. It left her wondering, ‘what the fuck is happening to me?’

“So your priest people… I assume you have one if you go to church, right? The head of the operation to steal people’s money and say they’re headed for heaven if they donate enough? Would they know about demons? Am I even allowed in a church? Would I really burst into flames? What’s the deal with Jesus people and fire?” She’d never been this talkative sober, but she didn’t feel sober. This was the greatest high of her life, complete euphoria. On top of the world, she finally noticed the physical differences as well when she passed the mirror. It stopped her in her tracks.

Not only did she feel great… she looked great. It looked like her but different… in a way. Her skin had cleared, smooth porcelain laid across her bones. She used to be tan. She stopped going out in the sun, and she also figured she couldn’t tan anyways since she was dead. Or… some sort of dead. Her body filled out, looking healthy and less like a walking Skeleton… she was alive.

“Would they know what’s happening? This has to happen often, right? I can’t be the only person to be turned into a demon.” It would be impossible. Unlikely. But doubt crept up her throat, forcing her eyes away from her image in the mirror. It was creepy how doll-like perfect she looked. It wasn’t… Joanna. She wasn’t sure why she was asking him so many questions as though he would have the answer. He didn’t know what she was or what was happening as he’d admitted, but surely one of his… people… would. Right? He was the only religious person she knew, and she didn’t particularly want to meet any others. So she was- er- praying… he would know. But when did praying ever work for her?

𝐉𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

…

Chase’s hands brushed against her hips as his own slowly came to a halt with their eager movements, his stomach flexing beneath the waves of shock her movements caused. His chest rose and fell erratically, attempting to regain dominance over himself again.

    He was so pretty. Gorgeous. His face twisted in curated pleasure designed by her own making, she could see now perfection at its highest crescendo. And boy, what sweet melodies he made. She didn’t know of the angelic blood which had tainted his veins; no matter, the unholy being trapped within her knew enough that she wanted to devour him. The new feeling was strong, but there was no way she would act upon it.

     ‘He’s too perfect to harm…’ She reasoned internally, pressing herself close in the aftermath of their union. Full, content, never having felt more alive, the demon’s knuckles brushed over the flush of his cheeks, minding the sharpness of her claws. His skin was warm against her lips. They trailed slowly over his neck, teeth dragging over the fragile flesh carefully. Her body burned new with life as though she’d been resurrected from her deadened state. Lungs filling once more with oxygen, heart pumping blood through veins and arteries to bring the color back to her cheeks.

    Joanna never wanted to let go. He seemed too good to be true. A facade. A dream. Soon she would awake, keeled over in pain with a scream. There couldn’t be a possibility that this was reality. So, in this dream, she clung to her savior tightly, refusing to part from him and be alone. “Whatever god you go to church for only managed to get one thing right in this world,” Resentment broke from her tone, soothing her palm across his cheek as she came to hide in the midst of his scent. “He created you. Perfect and sweet and-” Jealousy. Emotion felt so vivid, shutting the red hue which seeped through her vision, tempering her breath. Jealous of whatever deities he prayed to. Jealous of the hours he must have spent in the past on his knees for some false religion. Religion was nothing. There was no benevolent deity, she was sure of it. If there had been, she wouldn’t be what she was. “pure,” Her eyes opened, coming from his neck to seek out the golden haze she wanted to bathe in. Never look away from her… Baptize her in the flood of his gaze.

     “You’re like my guardian angel… A little late, I think, but I won’t hold it against your lazy god.” Her words were dripping in humor. She had no clue what weight they held. She wasn’t aware that he was an angel, nor did she know that he was her guardian. All she knew was this…. Man?… could heal her. Could make her smile and laugh and want to live. He didn’t judge her for her fangs and he seemed unfazed by the burnt tips of her nails. Whoever he was… she never wanted to be parted from him.

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“My mother always said to cut off the things that don’t bring you peace.” She left her quote at that, glaring momentarily at the cross once more. She hated it even more now that she knew it burned him too. To burn her was fine. She was unholy. A demon or whatever they called them. Worthy of the chastisement. But him? He deserves no such thing. Resisting the urge to tear the chain from his neck altogether, her lips stilled over his skin as he spoke, smiling with a sly curve of her lips.

“I haven’t tasted anything since… I guess waking up… so anything is acceptable at this moment.” She pressed a kiss against his knuckles, returning his arm to his side. She liked when he said her name, and she even wondered how beautiful her full name might sound…. If they’d met a couple months prior. If she might have had an inkling belief that god was gracious. Even before her resurrection from humanity to a monster, you would have had a hard time convincing her that this god was merciful and kind. After this… she was sure he was anything but.

“Oh, I know.” She preened, “but now I’ll be able to enjoy it.” She did not mean food, and her tone conveyed as much with a glimmer of mischief glinting up through her lashes.

She was wary of celebration just yet, not sure how long she would remain… this lively. His deity seemed to enjoy throwing her into loops. Just when she believed she was happy, a tragedy. It would be gods fault, wouldn’t it? If he was the author of all creation and what not? If he held the whole wide world in his hands? He was to blame for everything. She allowed it to happen.

Before, she believed in coincidence. She was content with the rationality that shitty things just happened sometimes for no rhyme or reason. Then, when she became a witch and worshiped Freyja, she believed that the universe was made up of checks and balances and sometimes things happened that didn’t quite make sense. But it didn’t mean it was necessarily her fault. And now… now she was fucking confused.

“You already took me to dinner.” She reminded him, helping herself rinse off the left over soap from her body and push her hair from her shoulders. “But I know the first thing I want to try if I can really taste things again.” Her eyes flickered up to him, “well, one of the firsts. And luckily it’s open this late.”

𝐉𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

…

Chase’s hands brushed against her hips as his own slowly came to a halt with their eager movements, his stomach flexing beneath the waves of shock her movements caused. His chest rose and fell erratically, attempting to regain dominance over himself again.

    He was so pretty. Gorgeous. His face twisted in curated pleasure designed by her own making, she could see now perfection at its highest crescendo. And boy, what sweet melodies he made. She didn’t know of the angelic blood which had tainted his veins; no matter, the unholy being trapped within her knew enough that she wanted to devour him. The new feeling was strong, but there was no way she would act upon it.

     ‘He’s too perfect to harm…’ She reasoned internally, pressing herself close in the aftermath of their union. Full, content, never having felt more alive, the demon’s knuckles brushed over the flush of his cheeks, minding the sharpness of her claws. His skin was warm against her lips. They trailed slowly over his neck, teeth dragging over the fragile flesh carefully. Her body burned new with life as though she’d been resurrected from her deadened state. Lungs filling once more with oxygen, heart pumping blood through veins and arteries to bring the color back to her cheeks.

    Joanna never wanted to let go. He seemed too good to be true. A facade. A dream. Soon she would awake, keeled over in pain with a scream. There couldn’t be a possibility that this was reality. So, in this dream, she clung to her savior tightly, refusing to part from him and be alone. “Whatever god you go to church for only managed to get one thing right in this world,” Resentment broke from her tone, soothing her palm across his cheek as she came to hide in the midst of his scent. “He created you. Perfect and sweet and-” Jealousy. Emotion felt so vivid, shutting the red hue which seeped through her vision, tempering her breath. Jealous of whatever deities he prayed to. Jealous of the hours he must have spent in the past on his knees for some false religion. Religion was nothing. There was no benevolent deity, she was sure of it. If there had been, she wouldn’t be what she was. “pure,” Her eyes opened, coming from his neck to seek out the golden haze she wanted to bathe in. Never look away from her… Baptize her in the flood of his gaze.

     “You’re like my guardian angel… A little late, I think, but I won’t hold it against your lazy god.” Her words were dripping in humor. She had no clue what weight they held. She wasn’t aware that he was an angel, nor did she know that he was her guardian. All she knew was this…. Man?… could heal her. Could make her smile and laugh and want to live. He didn’t judge her for her fangs and he seemed unfazed by the burnt tips of her nails. Whoever he was… she never wanted to be parted from him.

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“Hmm,” she retained the information he was providing her with, chewing it slowly and digesting with great care. “So you’ve never brought a demon back to life with your dick before?” A smile quirked over her lips, flaring a narrowed gaze of faux suspicion. “There’s a first time for everything, right? I’ve never sat on a magic dick.” Never enjoyed sex as much as she had nor did she orgasm. Surely, there was magic in him. No normal human being had ever healed a stomach ache with their hands before, let alone whatever horrendous agony she endured before him.

So much pent up energy existed in her body as she stood patiently underneath the stream of water. She tried to allow herself to relax, to force her mind to cease, but it seemed nearly impossible. So many thoughts swarmed her. Her main worry was the urges. Even now, when she felt more in control of the impulses, there were certain thoughts that prodded from the fog and would not relent. Blood. His blood. She wondered what he tasted like, mouth watering as though she was picturing a sweet morsel of candy. His touch was soothing, caring. And here she was… wondering what it would be like to dig her nails down his shoulder-

Her gaze traveled slowly, resting on the chain around his neck. The burned keratin of her thumb looked out of place next to the holy symbol of Christ. Guilt. Shame. It came as she brushed the pad of her thumb across the gold and a searing pain met her. She retreated from his neck, hissing softly at the cursed thing. Unholy. Unworthy of touching him…

Defiance drove her closer, never being one to follow the rules. The heat of her damned hands slipped up his neck, avoiding the cross pendant and to his hair where she smoothed back the strands. She pushed onto the front of her feet, needing the extra inch or so to reach his jaw with her lips. If it wasn’t obvious, she would remind the judgmental cross of the ownership she held on him. Hers. She’d decided so right then, claiming Chase. It was a silly thing to be jealous of a necklace, but it was much more than that. It was the religion in general. What it represented. “I don’t care about soap, Chase.” She was too restless for that. “I wouldn’t mind your cum dripping down my thighs. It’s comforting.” A smile, taking his hand to her lips. It was an experiment, and the result excited her. She tasted the soap. If she tasted the soap… surely, she could taste food, right?!

𝐉𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

…

Chase’s hands brushed against her hips as his own slowly came to a halt with their eager movements, his stomach flexing beneath the waves of shock her movements caused. His chest rose and fell erratically, attempting to regain dominance over himself again.

    He was so pretty. Gorgeous. His face twisted in curated pleasure designed by her own making, she could see now perfection at its highest crescendo. And boy, what sweet melodies he made. She didn’t know of the angelic blood which had tainted his veins; no matter, the unholy being trapped within her knew enough that she wanted to devour him. The new feeling was strong, but there was no way she would act upon it.

     ‘He’s too perfect to harm…’ She reasoned internally, pressing herself close in the aftermath of their union. Full, content, never having felt more alive, the demon’s knuckles brushed over the flush of his cheeks, minding the sharpness of her claws. His skin was warm against her lips. They trailed slowly over his neck, teeth dragging over the fragile flesh carefully. Her body burned new with life as though she’d been resurrected from her deadened state. Lungs filling once more with oxygen, heart pumping blood through veins and arteries to bring the color back to her cheeks.

    Joanna never wanted to let go. He seemed too good to be true. A facade. A dream. Soon she would awake, keeled over in pain with a scream. There couldn’t be a possibility that this was reality. So, in this dream, she clung to her savior tightly, refusing to part from him and be alone. “Whatever god you go to church for only managed to get one thing right in this world,” Resentment broke from her tone, soothing her palm across his cheek as she came to hide in the midst of his scent. “He created you. Perfect and sweet and-” Jealousy. Emotion felt so vivid, shutting the red hue which seeped through her vision, tempering her breath. Jealous of whatever deities he prayed to. Jealous of the hours he must have spent in the past on his knees for some false religion. Religion was nothing. There was no benevolent deity, she was sure of it. If there had been, she wouldn’t be what she was. “pure,” Her eyes opened, coming from his neck to seek out the golden haze she wanted to bathe in. Never look away from her… Baptize her in the flood of his gaze.

     “You’re like my guardian angel… A little late, I think, but I won’t hold it against your lazy god.” Her words were dripping in humor. She had no clue what weight they held. She wasn’t aware that he was an angel, nor did she know that he was her guardian. All she knew was this…. Man?… could heal her. Could make her smile and laugh and want to live. He didn’t judge her for her fangs and he seemed unfazed by the burnt tips of her nails. Whoever he was… she never wanted to be parted from him.

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The Rape of Proserpina

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, 1621-22, Carrara's Marble, Galleria Borghese (Rome)

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Brows furrowed slightly at his admission, unable to recognize the full meaning behind it quick enough before she was pulled into a distracting embrace. How dare he talk about her sweet angel like that, even if the words were cast against himself? She would hear none of it! Silly man, mistaking himself for anything other than her gentle protector. His battle scars mattered not in her eyes. Everyone was aware that the strongest soldiers weathered more wounds. It proved they were proficient in a fight. It proved they had suffered the most, and yet they managed to make it out of the fray alive. She would not condemn him for waging war against himself. She, too, had done so. Though her scars were internal.

Her smile was all she gave him in response, slipping her arms around his shoulders to press close to him as she was lifted. The woman, surprisingly, felt no pain. She felt… awake. Alive. Energized, like she could run a marathon or hike a mountain. She turned her head, calling out for her faithful companion Carter and hoping he had heard her from outside. She gave him another call, listening faintly for the slip of the doggy door as he came in.

Her feet slipped from his hips, padding against the tile with reclusive rejection. Instantly, she stepped closer, refusing to be parted until she felt the water. The water… it was… cold! Sure, that fact shouldn’t have been shocking, and yet Joanna’s shudder came with wide eyes and a gasp. Not because she cared about the temperature but solely because for the first time in months… she felt cold. She felt anything.

She lifted her chin towards the head of the shower which assaulted her with the arctic stream, quickly noticing the warmth which followed its wake as the pipes released the heat. Warmth. She felt it. Oh my fucking god, she felt it. She could have cried, it was so refreshing. “Chase…” disbelief caught in her throat, blinking away the red from her eyes as they returned to her natural hazel. They were more brown than anything, but she had always refused to acknowledge the major 90 percent when that 10 brought life to her barren plane. The earth lived in her eyes, and she would not ignore that! “I can feel it. It’s warm. It was cold. I can feel it!” Like she was discovering a new favorite food, her eyes lit up with recognition that this was good. This so very good and utterly remarkable. “What did you do? How- how are you-?” She wasn’t even aware of the questions to ask. This all felt too dream-like. Stuck in a wooded nightmare for so long, but now she was finally peering over the edge of the mountain at the grand view below her. She’d conquered hell. She made it through. But how?

𝐉𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

…

Chase’s hands brushed against her hips as his own slowly came to a halt with their eager movements, his stomach flexing beneath the waves of shock her movements caused. His chest rose and fell erratically, attempting to regain dominance over himself again.

    He was so pretty. Gorgeous. His face twisted in curated pleasure designed by her own making, she could see now perfection at its highest crescendo. And boy, what sweet melodies he made. She didn’t know of the angelic blood which had tainted his veins; no matter, the unholy being trapped within her knew enough that she wanted to devour him. The new feeling was strong, but there was no way she would act upon it.

     ‘He’s too perfect to harm…’ She reasoned internally, pressing herself close in the aftermath of their union. Full, content, never having felt more alive, the demon’s knuckles brushed over the flush of his cheeks, minding the sharpness of her claws. His skin was warm against her lips. They trailed slowly over his neck, teeth dragging over the fragile flesh carefully. Her body burned new with life as though she’d been resurrected from her deadened state. Lungs filling once more with oxygen, heart pumping blood through veins and arteries to bring the color back to her cheeks.

    Joanna never wanted to let go. He seemed too good to be true. A facade. A dream. Soon she would awake, keeled over in pain with a scream. There couldn’t be a possibility that this was reality. So, in this dream, she clung to her savior tightly, refusing to part from him and be alone. “Whatever god you go to church for only managed to get one thing right in this world,” Resentment broke from her tone, soothing her palm across his cheek as she came to hide in the midst of his scent. “He created you. Perfect and sweet and-” Jealousy. Emotion felt so vivid, shutting the red hue which seeped through her vision, tempering her breath. Jealous of whatever deities he prayed to. Jealous of the hours he must have spent in the past on his knees for some false religion. Religion was nothing. There was no benevolent deity, she was sure of it. If there had been, she wouldn’t be what she was. “pure,” Her eyes opened, coming from his neck to seek out the golden haze she wanted to bathe in. Never look away from her… Baptize her in the flood of his gaze.

     “You’re like my guardian angel… A little late, I think, but I won’t hold it against your lazy god.” Her words were dripping in humor. She had no clue what weight they held. She wasn’t aware that he was an angel, nor did she know that he was her guardian. All she knew was this…. Man?… could heal her. Could make her smile and laugh and want to live. He didn’t judge her for her fangs and he seemed unfazed by the burnt tips of her nails. Whoever he was… she never wanted to be parted from him.

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𝐉𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

...

Chase’s hands brushed against her hips as his own slowly came to a halt with their eager movements, his stomach flexing beneath the waves of shock her movements caused. His chest rose and fell erratically, attempting to regain dominance over himself again.

    He was so pretty. Gorgeous. His face twisted in curated pleasure designed by her own making, she could see now perfection at its highest crescendo. And boy, what sweet melodies he made. She didn’t know of the angelic blood which had tainted his veins; no matter, the unholy being trapped within her knew enough that she wanted to devour him. The new feeling was strong, but there was no way she would act upon it.

     ‘He’s too perfect to harm…’ She reasoned internally, pressing herself close in the aftermath of their union. Full, content, never having felt more alive, the demon’s knuckles brushed over the flush of his cheeks, minding the sharpness of her claws. His skin was warm against her lips. They trailed slowly over his neck, teeth dragging over the fragile flesh carefully. Her body burned new with life as though she’d been resurrected from her deadened state. Lungs filling once more with oxygen, heart pumping blood through veins and arteries to bring the color back to her cheeks.

    Joanna never wanted to let go. He seemed too good to be true. A facade. A dream. Soon she would awake, keeled over in pain with a scream. There couldn’t be a possibility that this was reality. So, in this dream, she clung to her savior tightly, refusing to part from him and be alone. “Whatever god you go to church for only managed to get one thing right in this world,” Resentment broke from her tone, soothing her palm across his cheek as she came to hide in the midst of his scent. “He created you. Perfect and sweet and-” Jealousy. Emotion felt so vivid, shutting the red hue which seeped through her vision, tempering her breath. Jealous of whatever deities he prayed to. Jealous of the hours he must have spent in the past on his knees for some false religion. Religion was nothing. There was no benevolent deity, she was sure of it. If there had been, she wouldn’t be what she was. “pure,” Her eyes opened, coming from his neck to seek out the golden haze she wanted to bathe in. Never look away from her… Baptize her in the flood of his gaze.

     “You’re like my guardian angel… A little late, I think, but I won’t hold it against your lazy god.” Her words were dripping in humor. She had no clue what weight they held. She wasn’t aware that he was an angel, nor did she know that he was her guardian. All she knew was this…. Man?... could heal her. Could make her smile and laugh and want to live. He didn’t judge her for her fangs and he seemed unfazed by the burnt tips of her nails. Whoever he was… she never wanted to be parted from him.

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be my dance in the dark, be closer to me

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This is Dave and Dippy. And they are my only friends rn. I hate everyone else in this museum.