#play it with your soul and you will see cathedrals

[nukaposting]

starfield is so beautiful dog why am i crying at space clouds

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation

Cw: blood, self flagellation, masturbation

Words: 1.7k

[A/N: extremely blasphemous, but again, you saw the tags. Please read at your own risk! (also, let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby

Playlist made by my baby Soln <3 @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Next

I.

Extra ecclesiam nulla salus. 

 There is a certain comfort in fear. When you see what awaits you at the gaping, harrowing mouth of hell, knowledge of the place you must avoid, ultimately, is power. There was a time when Viktor pitied those who did not know—those who lived despondent lives, unaware and unafraid of damnation. Recently, he had found himself wishing he knew less. 

 A ravening beast with a thousand bloody teeth, inside its mouth a cauldron, and in it the souls of the accursed with sin, boiling over scorching flames as legions of fiendish demons dragged in multitudes more. This image plagued Viktor’s mind without rest, be it vividly in his dreams, in the colossal fresco at the entrance of his local cathedral, or in the comical props onstage at the theater plays. 

 The parish clergy that had taken him in as a kid had made the mistake of noticing his outstanding intelligence and awarding him time to dedicate to studying philosophy, a privilege that many of the choir monks and lay brothers did not receive. In university, philosophy had turned into physics, and soon that turned into astronomy, which he had to keep a secret on account of the recent prohibitions put in place by Paul V’s Inquisition over the study of Copernican theories. 

 After he was ordained and returned to his home cathedral, this once silent yet innocent interest had turned into complete secrecy, and the fear of God that had once given him solace now tormented him. At times he considered giving up on his work; the mechanical objections of Copernican theory should not be of this much significance to him after all; there had to be something of value in what Thomas Aquinas had to say, and perhaps Agustine of Hippo had some good points. Nevertheless, it was the night sky that called to him, and even this far from it, he could not escape. 

 But outside the church there is no salvation , and Viktor knew that even if he was never to be condemned as a heretic in life, what awaited him in death was a flaming tomb at Epicure's side. Quod extra ecclesiam nulla salus. 

---------------------------------------------------

His parish was a pious one, but Viktor would refuse to receive lithe from the members of his church. The first time he tried this, the bishop was immediately alerted, and he was secluded to live in the small room inside the chapel as a ‘punishment’ for his impertinence. Viktor did not mind; the lands he had been previously allotted were too much to care for on his own, with cleaning being especially hard once his leg would start tiring out, and the presence of the personnel of lay brothers that would follow him around made his studies impossible; thus, the contained space of the church was comfortable to live in on his own.

 It had been a particularly cold morning. The week before, he had received word of the imminent visit of his diocesan bishop, and the impending possibility of his stay at any moment in the near future had tied his eyebrows into a permanent knot and his shoulders into a tense bundle of nerves since that morning. 

 To his dismay, the state of his works had made no decent progress, his journal being nothing more than a few numbers and three words on a painfully empty piece of parchment. He understood Latin; he had studied it at length in university, but when he took a break to read the Bible, the words on it floated around aimlessly, in a messy concoction of nothing. 

 “Per fidem enim ambulamus et non per speciem,” he repeated to himself in a whisper, and then closed the pages lethargically. 

 He read the cover of a white volume that had been lying on his desk for over a month now. He was sure he would have possibly agreed with what Foscarini had to say, so the feeling of dread he felt every time he laid eyes upon the title was mystifying to him. Though it made sense after some reflection, he was afraid. 

 When he read Copernicus, it felt distant, a world he was only a visitor in, but the Foscarini was a carmelite father, one of his own that was now nothing short of a persona non-grata in the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church. Viktor was afraid that what he had to say might make sense and that he might be so correct in his observations that this knowledge would drag him into the same status. 

 In retrospect, he should not have read it. 

 In fact, opening the cover was a big mistake on its own. Not even 3 pages in, the door of his room unceremoniously barged open, revealing the full figure of Father Isodore. Viktor and him never really got along; his time in the monastery as a kid was full of rule-breaking and inappropriate questions, and to Father Isidore’s dismay, insatiable curiosity remained Viktor’s fatal flaw well into his adulthood. 

 Not a single word was uttered as he carried his sunny disposition and rubicund complexion over to Viktor’s desk. There was no use in trying to hide what he was holding; Viktor carried the same guilty look on his face every time he did something he was not supposed to. Once a cute kid trying to hide some innocent misdeeds, his expression had grown into one of unadulterated shame and indignity in the wake of sin, and the bishop knew this all too well. The book was snatched off his hands aggressively.

“‘Epistle concerning the mobility of the earth’,” he read, “would be an interesting read if only as a piece of fiction, and perhaps in a different climate.”

“Your excellence, I eh—”

“Save it. Don’t worsen your sin by bearing false witness.”

Viktor looked down and sighed in resignation, a disappointed sadness creeping up in his throat.

“You are very much aware those texts have been forbidden, but since words seem to slide off you, I hope physical penance can remind you of your depravity,” Father Isidore said coldly as he handed Viktor the whip that usually served as no more than a piece of decoration adorning his wall. “Ten of them, and be intentional. One pater noster after each.”

“Yes, father.”

“It’s a shame; I have come to congratulate you on your work for the community. Repent. ” The emphasis on the last word punctuated his departure.

A cold feeling arose in Viktor’s stomach as he looked down at the whip, something akin to fear but also awfully comparable to excitement.

Three deep breaths are what he allowed himself; it would be better to get it over with as quickly as possible. He removed his vestments unhurriedly, only his bottoms remaining as he sluggishly kneeled by the bed, and the chilled air on his back was, in hindsight, not as bad as he thought at the moment. His hand trembled slightly when his grip on the whip tightened, and his jaw locked into a gritted grin as he sucked air in through his teeth.

The first flick of his arm was swift, like ripping away a bandage to make the pain go away as fast as your wrist could tug at it. It did not help; the feeling of the small metal beads digging into his skin was instantaneous, and it disappeared soon, but the burning that replaced it lingered.

“ Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen tuum; adveniat regnum tuum; fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cælo et in terra .”

A swarm of ants biting at the exposed skin on his back was a scorching fire.

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris; et ne nos inducas in tentationem; sed libera nos a malo.”

Then it subsided, and the slight chills on his arms were due to something else. He took his time with the second hit, languidly whipping both hands back this time to maintain the same level of strength. The aching this time was different; the burning of his skin was quenched by the few droplets of blood and sweat trickling down his spine. And there was something else—a burning feeling that was misplaced not on his back or wrists but in his lower stomach.

“Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen...” He started once again, both hands holding one another around the handle of the whip, closed in prayer as he shut his eyes tightly for concentration. This proved to be fruitless when an uncomfortable tightness in the fabric around his crotch distracted his attention away from the words he was reciting. He tried to continue with his prayer, but an ill-calculated movement tugged at the tender skin of his back, and the brief sting made the already confining feeling worsen, morphing into an odd mixture of ache and delight.

He figured out what this meant soon enough. The conflicting feeling did not originate from any sort of confusion about what he was experiencing; it came with the quandary of his two options: either keep going to conclude his penalty and follow orders, or go against those orders to avoid tainting this sacred act with his depravity.

He unlaced his trousers before going for the third whip. The aching feeling on his back was almost completely gone, replaced by a numb tingling along the wounded skin and an unbearable heat in his groin. The fourth hit was one-handed. Right hand wrapping tightly along the handle and left hand mirroring the grip around his cock as he pumped himself mechanically. When the metal hit the skin, a jolt of what felt like electricity traveled all the way down to his stomach, the member on his hand twitching in anticipation.

There was no fifth hit or anything beyond that. A final tug with a firm hand and gritted teeth culminated in his climax, hot viscosity percolating through his fingers as he rested his forehead on the edge of the bed. His chest heaved up and down as he whispered a string of prayers. Shame washed over him.

“Castigo corpus meum.” He repeated incessantly until he had enough strength in his legs to stand.

[a-998h]

This Is Real

Creator's POV

A knock wakes me up and I notice that I'm in a soft bed. Thinking back to yesterday events it clicks that Venti took me to someone's house or an inn. Remembering Venti has no money for his bar tab let alone a room in an inn. So now I have to play a game of Guess Who to find out who let Venti dump me in their house. I get out of bed and walk out of the room to get a better sense of where I am. The exploring leads me down a stair case where I notice a fake owl on a small table at the end of the stairs. I look at it and unknowingly start petting it. I keep doing that till I hear something behind me.

"Hello,it is nice to see you awake your grace," a deep voices says.

I jump at throw my fist back. It hits something,hear a grunt,and I look to see the poor soul I hit and is met with the sight of red hair. Diluc,I hit Diluc.

"Oh my god,I'm sorry Diluc I didn't meet too!" I say in a panicked tone with a nervous laugh.

"It's okay your grace,I should not have startled you," Diluc says. Apologies are still spilling form me cause I like Diluc and I don't ever want to hurt him or any of the others. I ask how Venti got me hear and I'm told he showed up with me asleep and gave me to Diluc who brought me to a guest room. I stare at Diluc and thank him for not turning me away.

"I would not be foolish enough to turn you away your grace," Diluc answered.

"Why are you calling me 'your grace' just use my name!" I tell him.

"I'm sorry but it would be disrespectful to not call you by your title."

I get annoyed,knowing there is nothing I can do but go with it. I thank Diluc for his kindness and ask if there's a way I can pay him back. Diluc starts laughing,it was weird cause Diluc rarely smiles let alone laughs. I guess he noticed me being scared cause he stopped as quickly as he started.

"It was an honor to have you in my home,so there is no need to repay me," he explained.

I was going to insist that I owe him something when we hear my stomach makes noises that mean feed me.

Diluc's POV

Hearing a sound come from the Creator's stomach their face turns red and they rush out. I have a feeling of excitement at getting to met them along with sadness that they left so soon. I wrote a letter to Jean, informing her about the Creator. It was sent and I went to do my work.

Timeskip

Creator's POV

I was walking around Mondstadt and everyone was as friendly as they were in game. When walking near the cathedral I saw Barbara standing in front of it an her bright smile got brighter when she saw me.

"Welcome your grace! I would like to show you the offerings the people of Mondstadt have given you!" Barbara said.

I tried to pull away but she seemed to have an iron grip n my arm. I was pulled into the cathedral and saw a statue similar to the one in Liyue. Near the bottom of the statue was a large table full of Snapdragons,like in Liyue, but this time there were Calla Lilies. Barbara asked what I thought. I couldn't say anything,I felt like this was a dream. Dreams can feel like days at times and it felt nice to have people care about me,or at least a dream version of me. Turning around I ignore Barbara and leave. The voices of people blend together as a crushing feeling washes over me. I don't know what happened,I just know I was walking before hearing a few gasps and feeling a stinging on my hand.

"Your grace,you are bleeding!" Noelle yells.

I look at my stinging hand and see that its bleeding.

"Wait, if this is a dream I wouldn't feel the stinging so that means it real," I told myself.

The blood oozing out of the cut was a golden color. My mind was all over the place as Noelle was bringing me somewhere. I couldn't focus on anything. I was scared,scared that I would never be able to go home. I was now paranoid about everything,like if I ate something from here would I be stuck,or was there a way home at all! I was patched up and thanked Noelle but told her I had to be somewhere. She tried to stop me but I got past her. I walked in the direction of Dawn Winery cause that was the best way to get to Wangshu Inn. I made it there by nightfall. I felt like I would face plant on the floor any second. I found the elevator and got on. Getting off I went to find the front desk,forgetting that I was broke. Finding the desk and talking to the woman behind it was easy, the problem was finding a room. She apologized that she couldn't give me a room for free. I walked off,tired,hungry,and home sick. I sat down on the balcony and started to cry. I wanted to go home but I didn't know how I got her in the first place. The wind picked up,like it was trying to dry my tears. My cries went on for who knows how long till I had to move and leave. I decided to go find Xiangling and ask if I could stay with her. I searched for the chef and found her ask her dad and her were leaving Wanmin Restaurant.

"Xiangling! Xiangling!" I called out.

She looked over at me and waved back. I asked it I could stay the night with her. She was confused and said I could stay I Wangshu Inn. I didn't bother pointing out that I wouldn't be asking her if I could stay at Wangshu Inn. She asked her dad if it was okay and he said I could. I thanked them both and said I would pay them back. That night I slept in a warm house and not outside next to a statue. When my head hit the pillow I passed out with a thud.

Venti's POV

I was in Liyue catching up with Zhongli and I let it slip about the Creator being in Teyvat. He almost choked on his tea and asked me to explain. I told him everything I knew and he got a look on his face. He said I should check to see if they were still in Mondstadt and he would check if they came back to Liyue. I agreed and started making my way towards Monstadt. A feeling in my gut telling me that something happened while I was gone.

[journalsouppe]

I started and beat this within like 4 days in July 2023, and I just completely forgot to take photos of this spread T-T.

BUT I loved Tunic so much, one of my all time favorite games I've ever played. If this was a Zelda game, it might've been my favorite Zelda game. This was only beat out by Ace Attorney: Apollo Justice bc my aa brainrot is that bad hfjdkal.

All of the stickers come with ordering the physical version of the game on fangamer!! There's also a freebie fox sticker I got from TheLittleBirdeeCo thats below keep reading.

My writing is typed below as well as my game notes. I will not type out my game notes and I also don't recommend looking at them unless you have played the game.

Game notes^ Plus a little blurb after rewatching a playthrough that I won't type out either since these are more just for fun.

Rating: 9.5 Played: Su 2023 Port: Nintendo Switch Favorite? Y Replayable? Y Recommend? Y

Comments

similar opening to links awakening

the start screen is gorgeous

THE POT SHARDS ARE MOVEABLE - i love the clay feel

tons of hidden paths and secrets

oooo you find the instruction booklet in the game

I KILLED MYSELF?

GIANT SKELETON SHOPKEEPER SCARED ME T-T he's chill tho

oooo you can hear the wind chimes

LOVE the mechanics of the draw bridge

what are the small tuner/bells for

i am apparently really good at finding hidden chests

i love that the fairies are stone versions of the oot/mm fairies

ENEMIES CAN FOLLOW YOU INTO NEW ROOMS?

it's hard to get acclimated since I'm so used to 2d zelda strategies and patterns

the statues of the hero perfectly encapsulate my view of oot link, i really love the design

the garden boss is hard T-T

the bell towers are so pretty

THE POTIONS REGENERATE? WISH I KNEW THAT

the west garden is so pretty omg

I FINALLY DID IT T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-

IM SO TINY T^T

idrk what to do at the heros grave

the librarian fight reminds me of the links awakening nightmare fight

frogs domain music reminds me of the forest temple

A GUN?

who am i?

why is the cathedral filled with ... me?

the boss rush was fun but hard

I DONT LIKE THAT ELEVATOR WHERE DID THE CRUCIFIED THING GO

i don't think there's a set order to do "dungeons" so i'm not locked to doing only the siege engine

i thought cat man was pissing

why do i have the power to activate the boxes?

librarian's ghost?

COLOR CHANGE?

was the heir me?

Game Notes:

beautiful 3D animation and modeling - very pleasing

wide attacking range - don't just attack straight forward

incredible environmental design and path making

two endings - exploration and collection for good end

diverse attack patterns and learning curve + boss rush

Summary

What a phenomenal game. I loved playing this game so much. It was challenging and I wasn't used to the souls mechanics, but I learned fast and had so much fun fighting the bosses. I love the two endings. The Bad where you replace your former self as the heir, continuing the cruel cycle. The Good where you free the Heir and find out it's you, older, someone who is no longer stuck in the cycle, and you get to be friends together. The music is absolutely gorgeous. I listened to it while falling asleep and was just sobbing from it. I love how mysterious the lore is and how everything still hasn't been answered. I love the designs of the environments and enemies and how the game can go from nice and serene to dark and creepy. I loved how this game was a perfect blend of 2D zelda plus monument valley plus a souls game, it forced me to think outside of the box and use my journal to takes notes on all the little secrets and surprises. I can def see myself play this game again, it's such a charming game that has a lot of nostalgia despite being a fairly new game. I am so happy I bought the deluxe edition, I truly cherish this game so much and love the stickers and artbooks I received. I highly recommend this game to anyone, it is such an incredible journey to go through. I'm gonna be spending a lot of time watching and reading about the lore and digging deeper into this game. Truly what a phenomenal game with such a cute yet tragic main character, ough i love tunic.

[sparks-chaotic-cove]

Okay people hear me out

"Writing on the Wall" by Will Stetson but with Malitae, Deltavera, and Fable.

Reasoning is that they're all gods that create! the artists of the gods, if you will

Lyric analysis underneath cut!

---------------Malitae----------------

Palaces of silver and gold Cannot be designed overnight - Palace of light for Vikesh It's like the saying I've often been told "No matter the cost, do things right" - Malitae with Rae's skirt

You have to be careful You have to be diligent - Malitae painting, drawing, etc all the paintings Planning and measuring every detail - Different portraits Creating is drawing, erasing and drawing again - Portrait, portrait smudged, another portrait And I've never been in it for fame or attention I only work hard, so the structures won't fail - invisible hands sewing But seeing it finished is worth every mora I spend - Malitae with Wolf/Fenris's new outfit!

Within every building made with pride The architect lives on inside - sketches of Malitae's Island Shining paint, a marble heart - Frog with hat, dragon That's what makes a work of art - the sun-moon thing! We build and we play Sculpting dreams out of clay - maybe with what malitae is making rn? With the hope that our towers don't fall That we won't have to see the writing on the wall - TBD

---------------Deltavera----------------

The more you work, the higher the stakes And the bigger the sorrows to drown - Delta caring for the nature 'Cause one mistake is all that it takes For the walls to come crumbling down - Delta ascending, eyes glow?

You have to ignore them, the echoing voices - Delta making more animals That cackle and curse as you toil away - humans being confused by the new creatures Cover your ears and focus on boxes and lines - Enderian walking up And the shadowy figures, they're nothing but shadows - she looks him in the eye, he nods Like ink on a page, they have nothing to say - he walks away, fades to black But maybe, just maybe - Delta looks up They're trying to give me a sign - the ender dragon looks down

That in every building made with pride - Delta looks upon the bear cub The architect remains inside - He pats it's head, ruffling the hair Peeling paint, a heavy heart That's what makes a work of art We scream and we pray Sculpting dreams out of clay As we try not to look at the scrawl - (I'll figure this out later) The message of doom, the writing on the wall - Delta dying

[ there's a little bridge here- so maybe Delta's soul winding around trees and eventually into the little bear cub! Then it'll go to Fable's portion ]

------------------Fable------------------------

Every day, we play this game of chance - Fable smiles at one of the lodestar grove inhabitants Whirling through a desperate dance - switches to Fable talking to Momboo and Ocie Sketching visions in our heads - Fable talking to Rae Just to see them ripped to shreds - Glitches to Icarus yelling at Rae This road that we share - Icarus and Ven in the Cathedral, Ven's already been hit, Icarus panicking Doesn't lead anywhere - Icarus and Fable flying away But there's nothing an artist can do - Centross walking into the cave, a snarl upon his face When you swing your brush, you have to follow through - Close up of Fable. Blood fades into appearing on it

Within every building made with pride The architect is trapped inside Bleeding paint, a shattered heart - Aurelius's death, Taking Rae's shards That's what makes a work of art - stepping through the portal, Isla and Enderian in the background I'll fight for control But the right way takes a toll And still, at the end of it all I can't escape my fate, the writing's on the wall - Will be decided later on! TBD

[ohnoitstbskyen]

The Old Dragon Slayer is just an asset flip... right?

Oh hey it's Ornstein... question mark. The Old Dragonslayer is found in a crumbling austere cathedral slowly sinking into the sea and he is... literally just Ornstein from Dark Souls 1, at least as a bossfight which is barely remixed for the new game.

And thus it's hard to know whether to... simply consider him fanservice. Or asset recycling. Is there any real meaning to his presence here?

Well you could see it either way, but within the frame of our interpretation that Dark Souls 2 is about identity, there is an interesting question. It looks like Ornstein, it moves like Ornstein, it fights like Ornstein, so... whether or not it actually IS Ornstein inside of there, does that make a difference, from your perspective? Is it enough to merely perform Ornstein to BE Ornstein? If we pantomime the glories of the past hard enough, does that make them real?

These are all interesting questions, and Dark Souls 2 does play a lot with making these references to its predecessor, almost daring you to justify finding them significant. Still, yeah, it's not the same without Smough is it?

My full analysis of The Old Dragonslayer

[psychiclounge]

I don't see a whole lot of fanmission discussion on here, which is a bummer considering they're such a huge part of the classic Thief community and why it's endured so long. With some of the Black Parade hype recently, I think now is the perfect time for this- here's my personal list of TDP/TMA fanmission recs! Not in any particular order (aside from the first 3-5 or so for each game, which are my personal all-time favorites) these are just taken from my highest rated fanmissions in FMSel. Each one links to a Thief Guild page where you can find the mission briefing, screenshots, and downloads.

Thief Gold: Ascend the Dim Valley Endless Rain Rose Garden The Scarlet Cascabel The Black Parade Catacombs of Knoss Alcazar Chalice of Souls Making a Profit The Sound of a Burrick in a Room Whispers Below the Cobblestone Between These Dark Walls Dirty Money Falling, In Love Autumn in Lampfire Hills

Thief 2: Compulsory Egress Into the Odd Bad Debts, and its sequel Disorientation (part of the Talbot series by Melan, along with TG FM Rose Garden) The Violent End of Duncan Malveine Feast of Pilgrims Ominous Bequest, and its sequel Broken Triad Rose Cottage Behind Closed Doors The Turning of the Leaves King Abedzen's Tomb Legacy of Knoss (sequel to TG FM Catacombs of Knoss) The Ties That Bind (the first FM I recall ever playing and, imo, a cute introduction to FMs as a whole) Old Habits and Dead Wives Vanishing Point All For a Night's Sleep The Last Lighthouse Keeper Cracks in the Glass Bloodmist Tower Finals at the Academy Heist at Hilbert's Highrise Hotel The Sun Within and the Sun Without Malazar's Inscrutable Tower Ravensreach Coaxing the Spirit Keyhunt

Here's a TTLG thread on how to set up both games for playing FMs. I personally don't use any fancy loaders, FMSel will be what you get by default, it works perfect and is all you need. TTLG overall is just a great place to be, it's good for FM hints/walkthroughs/recs and general Thief/Looking Glass discussion.

Ideally you have T2Fix already installed, but for setting your game up for FMs, you should do a quick reinstall and make sure that two options are ticked: common script modules, and T2FMDML. T2FMDML is a collection of fixes for Thief 2 FMs that wouldn't otherwise play nice with NewDark, and the scripts as I understand are for FMs that need them but either come packaged with older versions or without the scripts at all- there's a lot of older FMs out there that will be broken for you if you don't have both installed. You can just rerun the T2Fix installer for this, you don't need to reinstall the game or anything.

Thief Guild is where all the links lead, and it's a great site for finding FMs. You can filter by genre (city, thieves' highway, cathedral, etc.) or look through the usermade collections- for a start, I'd recommend looking at the collections specifically to find classic/early FMs, a category that I know I'm not hitting on much in my list here but is definitely worth checking out if you're at all interested.

Bonus Dark Mod rec: The Dark Mod is a fanmade, free, Thief-inspired stealth game. I haven't played nearly as many missions for it as I have for Thief, but it's still absolutely worth checking out to see if it clicks for you. If you only play one TDM mission, though, my personal rec is Iris.

If you have any, add on with your own FM recs also! Feel free to send asks or dms about anything FM-related, as well ^^ I'm always looking for more to check out, and always open to talk about them if anyone wants.

[cor-lapis-candy]

So there is a very very talented artist on Instagram under the name daione.sith (100% look at their stuff! And of you have the money their patreon cause !!!! The NSFW versions!) And they have a demon Diluc drawing and good lord has it given me an idea.

So here I come like some kind of goblin out of my lil cave of Minecraft and grinding to give you this.

This piece doesn't really need a CW or a TW to my knowledge, but if religious themes or anything to do with possessive themes makes you umcomfy maybe don't read this one!

Have you ever seen the Anemo Archons cathedral in the afternoon?

Rays of golden light transformed into halos of gold and blue, green specks filling gaps between pure white streaks, the air filled with specks of dust that drift and paint the cracks between each colour stained display of devotion. Candles of every kind, pillars and tealights, long burning towers of wax that are lit day in and day out, melting and painting old stained wood with pools of faded whites and yellows, all long since forgotten and uncleaned after their purpose had been served.

There is piety in the air and whispered hymns on the lips of every soul that passes through those doors, heads bowed and hands offered in prayer and open devotion, and yet one resounding set of steps is all it takes to taint and defile, the solid click after click of his shoes against polished tile is a simple rhythm that sinks sin into the very stone foundations of the cathedral, a rot of domination seeping into the roots and curling around the heart of the church of freedom.

A demon in only your mind alone, and a saint in all others eyes, the uncrowned king and deep shadow across your devotion looms over you, standing as he always does, clothed in his jacket and hands ringed in simple yet daunting steel rings, lips moving through mockeries of prayer after prayer as the air fills with thick incense.

The censer by your side long since burnt out, a centerpiece to the flowing wreaths and displays of devotion through fruit and wine, the ash that falls and spills from the gaps tells of age and endless nights in the fogs of devotion and prayers that the red haired man that has come to curl around your back would disappear from your side, that 'The Diluc Ragnvindr' would turn those crimson eyes from you and find some other lamb to lead a stray, and yet again you feel the heat of his gloves drag across your arms, his hands pulling you backwards into the broad expanse of his chest.

The scent of incense is overpowered but the smell of oak, wine and something burnt, like the after scent of a fireplace or boiler pit, it smelt like iron and ash.

You know what lies under the heavy finery, that the moment you step out of these hallowed halls and step over the threshold of your home there is no archon or divine grace to save you, red hair will give way to arching horns and draping layers with loosen and fall away to leave the defined lines and markings of his true nature bare.

A sight many women and men would kill for will lay bare and inviting on your bed, legs spread with one hand lazily pumping his length. Fingers dragging the small trail of pre further down and making the ridges and inhuman shape all that more prominent, black trails that swirl across his hips and up around his chest, for something so inhuman he plays the role well, a thick swatch of red hair covers his chest and leads wispily down his stomach.

The deep red of his hair mats itself with sweat and other evidence of your entanglement, something of both his and your own, and yet it's not a matter of when you would give in but how.

Some Days he would catch you before you got into the cathedral, other day, ones much like this one, he would cradle you through your last prayers and escort you home, making you a sight of envy for all those that would catch sight of the two of you, and oh how people would see. The route he would make you take winds the many main streets and side roads, every set of envying eyes would watch as his gloves hands dug into your hips, how he let you push against him and made him chuckle.

The sound mistaken for mirth when really it was nothing but condescension.

Whatever his end goal was, Diluc Ragnvindr was working his way into your heart and head, somedays all it took was a flash of the fiery red of his hair and you would be wound up expecting those heavy hands and ash laiden words to coax you off your beaten path and into the dark of some ally for a quick moment of hushed breaths and shape teeth digging into whatever skin you had exposed or could be exposed.

But here in your home as he lays back, horns ripping through the plush pillow you had bought not a day before, red tipped claws digging into the soft skin of your hips and dragging you further and further down his cock making the finale ridge of something just shy of to big, to wide, too much for you, press against your opening as he huff out a laugh.

Today he would take you wholly, leave you gasping and open mouthed as he sunk that finale but of himself into you, stained you inside and out with himself, marks of theet and hands mean nothing to how he will know that he finally came in you, finally painted your inside with his spend.

How glorious it will be the day he gets you watch you stumble back from that cathedral to his winery, to drape yourself across his lap and grasp at the base of his horns and beg for him, true devotion to him, true adoration and nothing but from you, to him would be the icing on this long overdue cake.

For now though he will enjoy the fucked out and watery eyes stare from you as he pushes you that little bit further down his cock, bottoming out and drawing a deep gasp from your lips.

For now this will do…

[breadandbloodybutter]

The sound of a church organ, soft and resonating at first throughout the beautiful cathedral.

It draws you in off the street, though you've never been much of a church goer. The old stone building is empty, although someone must be playing so boldly, the music beginning to swell through the arches.

Your heart, beating like a drum along with every note.

A rustle from the rafters above has you jumping nervously, holding your crossed arms close as you glance around. Still nobody around, but now you can hear a voice layered over the organ.

'𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘴..'

Spinning around, your eyes widen as candles are lit with every thunderous, lingering note. You'd barely noticed that the beautiful orchestral song was now like a booming siren's call of madness pounding in your head, growing louder, faster - like a predator that had slowly sheppard the prey right into the snaring of a trap.

Again, something swooped from above - you jerked your head up to see the church's large brass bell above you. There was something pressing itself on the inside of it. Folded wings. Claws scraping along the sides.

Eyes that burned through your very soul.

As your lips parted, the organ bellowed it's final notes, and red lips above parted to reveal devil's teeth and a cooing, intimate whisper.

'𝘿𝙤𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙙.'

'𝘿𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙.'

'𝘾𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏.'

[enarei]

dreamed fromsoftware released a 49.99 art game called "chasm souls". completely linear and like sekiro in that you cannot really change your equipment, the gameplay's almost exactly like DS3 except there's no music, items, or bonfires, and all the enemies are hollows, and it's really dark and you can only really see like 5 feet in front of you. you have to play the whole thing without dying until you enter a cathedral of pure light and the credits roll over

7.5 from IGN

[writtenjewels]

Wrong Number part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

After stopping by the William Wallace memorial, Jason suggested they stop by a cafe for some lunch. He ordered the fish and chips-- how could he be in London and not try that at least once-- but was thoroughly disappointed in the results. He picked at it despondently while Salim seemed more pleased with his chosen meal.

“I have to say,” Salim spoke up, “that seeing you 'nerd out' over the memorial was worth the trip. Are you a history buff?”

“Nah.” Jason cracked a grin. “Just a huge fan of Braveheart. Saw it so many fuckin' times I wore out the VHS.” Salim matched his grin and Jason quickly ducked his head, shoving a chip in his mouth.

It was annoying how handsome and funny Salim was, how easy it was to banter with him, how comfortable Jason felt in the man's presence. Jason hadn't felt so stupidly giddy around a guy in years.

“What would you like to see next?” Salim asked him.

“Nope, it's your turn. I already picked the Eye and the memorial.”

“You 'picked the Eye'?” Salim repeated, his lip twitching and eyes dancing. “That doesn't sound very hygienic.” Jason laughed despite himself.

“That was a terrible joke.” Salim just smiled, and Jason's stupid heart fluttered crazily in his chest. “Seriously, though, you should pick where we go next.”

“It's hard to choose,” Salim admitted. “As you said, there are so many historical places in the city. The Globe Theatre, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, Big Ben's clock tower, the British Museum...”

“Nerd,” Jason teased him.

“I should save the museum for Zain,” Salim amended after some thought. “The Globe is being renovated, but they might still be open for tours if you're interested.”

“Sure,” Jason agreed, hoping he didn't sound too eager. “We can both nerd out.”

“How so?” Salim wondered.

“I've seen Shakespeare in Love.” Jason had to fight to keep a straight face. Salim gave him an incredulous look, but then his expression widened when he caught Jason's smile.

“You're messing with me.”

“A little,” Jason agreed, chuckling. Fuck, this guy was too damn cute. “I read most of the plays,” Jason confessed more seriously. “But keep that between us, all right?”

“Don't worry, Jason,” Salim responded with a soft tone in his voice. “I will never tell a soul that you are, in truth, a Shakespeare nerd.” Jason laughed and punched the other man gently on the shoulder.

“You're such an asshole.” Salim's eyes danced merrily back at him. Fuck, fuck, Jason's stupid giddy feeling was just getting worse. He just met this guy yesterday and already crushing so hard it was going to hurt when they finally parted ways.

Not yet, though. Jason had at least another hour or two with Salim.

[heraldofcrow]

I've actually lost a track of your BB progression, but who you liked first - Bloody Crow or Eileen? And why? And what made you like the second one, whoever it is?

Aahh, the question ever, yes!

My BB progression is a mess because I don’t think I even played it until 2017-2018, as I was too fixated on the Souls series, but it was this shot of Eileen that finally got me to give in:

Not even kidding. This and the main poster of the Hunter got me to finally play Bloodborne because I had never seen such blatant Gothic panache.

When I actually met Eileen in-game, she immediately became my favorite character. So yeah, it was her that snatched me first. She was everything I wanted in a Soulsborne character. A deadly, older lady-warrior with a crow-themed get-up, a cool voice, and a mysterious aura/storyline. I started coming up with my idea for her backstory then and there. <3

Bloody Crow was…a weird one for me. I had fallen so hard for Eileen that I was really upset to see her injured, right? So, I went into the Crow fight royally pissed off and ready to gut whatever was waiting.

Granted, I was also expecting a boss fight and a tough one at that, considering Eileen had dubbed Crow a “thing.” (In English, of course).

But noooo, instead I waltzed into that cathedral in the dim blue-grey light and just watched this beautifully black-clad, crow-caped knight of Cainhurst walk towards me, outlined by the lavender glow of the Dream lamp, like an absolute fucking edgelord bastard. Complete menace.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so enticed by a FromSoftware NPC.

He then kicked my ass for the next several hours, and I think I fell in love lmao. But I was drawn in by the vibe of his fight, and his look mainly. I didn’t consider his character much at that point. I just enjoyed the mystery and my dance with his devilry.

Then I found Kuyuan’s/Endysis’s art of Eileen and little Crow a bit later, decided they were the best characters in Bloodborne, cried over them a lot, and I have never been the same since.

Bloody Crow became more human to me and more than just my favorite, villainous vampire-rival. Eileen only became even more beloved to me.

Now here I am in 2023, mentally unstable, and obsessing over these birds like a crackpot.

[daevastanner]

C H A P T E R   S E V E N

“If I give you a hint and tell you it's a hint, it will be information.”

― Diana Wynne Jones, Howl’s Moving Castle

Gwyn woke to the light of the moon painting Azriel’s empty side of the bed a silvery gray, the expanse of mattress beside her cool with his absence. She strained her fae hearing for any noise in his bathing chambers or on the balcony but heard nothing. He was not here. 

Blinking her bleary eyes, Gwyn slid out of the bed and grabbed her silk dressing robe from the floor. She tied it around her waist and smoothed her hair away from her face. Her mate was likely in the training ring, taking out whatever stress he was currently experiencing on a combat dummy. Gone were the days when they would find one another in the somber light of the ring in the dead of night and wordlessly fight until they were too tired to stand. Instead, they would retrieve one another and walk them back to bed where they would discuss whatever demons kept them from sleeping. It had been a habit Gwyn had steadily encouraged between them and while it had resulted in long, tearful conversations, there were many less sleepless nights. 

Slipping out into the hallway, Gwyn pivoted in the direction of the training ring, only to halt in her steps. In the opposite direction, down the darkened corridor, a mournful melody played. It was a song that sang to her soul. A song that beckoned to the darkest parts of her. It sounded like sorrow. It sounded like her mate’s tears. So she followed it. 

Eventually, Gwyn arrived at a set of unfamiliar, tall oak doors. From behind them, the plaintive melody of the piano continued. Gwyn inhaled through her nose, then pressed on the door, slipping within soundlessly. 

It was a music room. The walls and floor were the same marble and moonstone as the rest of the House with long, cathedral windows that allowed beams of moonlight to illuminate the space. The moonlight danced off the silver, brass and gold of the various instruments littering the corners of the room, but most notably, it gleamed on the surface of a large piano. A large piano where a long, lean figure sat with his back to Gwyn.

Azriel was still in his sleeping clothes, no shirt and low slung sleeping trousers. His wings hung limply behind him, reflecting the exhausted posture of his shoulders. His shadows seemed to twirl mournfully about him, like an affectionate cat attempting to console its owner. The sight was heartbreakingly beautiful, as her mate often was. 

Swallowing, Gwyn made her way to the center of the room where Azriel sat at the piano. Wordlessly, she sank down onto the bench beside him. The shadowsinger played on, shifting to allow his mate some room to sit, but not so much as faltering in his song. 

She sat beside him for a moment, her shoulder leaning against his, and listened to the melody. It remained the same sorrowful tune with no signs of stopping. Eventually, she gathered the courage to steal a look at his face, attempting to see just how much this song reflected his mood. His beautiful face was an expressionless mask, but behind his amber eyes she saw pain. On the sharp plains of his cheeks there were tracks of tears. The sight sent a heart wrenching bolt of pain through her chest and her whole body was suddenly restless. 

She tried to send some measure of comfort down the intangible thread between them but was unsuccessful. A theme as of late. It seemed that when the bond was freshly snapped, they were able to communicate down it more easily, not as clearly as mated pairs who had accepted the bond, but still with some measure of success. Now though, as if punishing them for their hesitance, the bond was tempestuous about when it allowed them to utilize its power.

Fine, you fickle thing, Gwyn thought, squaring her shoulders, I got through to him before you made your presence known and don’t need your help to do so now.

Read the rest on Ao3 or Wattpad

[gold-rhine]

Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned.

Diluc

Diluc’s love language is Doing Things For You, which ranges from just generally being useful to dealing with problems and being protective, sometimes overbearingly, but what he himself recognizes as love language are specifically Grand Gestures.

Caveat: Grand Gestures do not mean “expensive”, Diluc has so much money that he doesn’t see spending it as something special, no matter how much.

Grand Gestures are also not something done publicly, Diluc likes to keep his most important things secret.

No, Grand Gesture has to be a) done for the specific person only b) by Diluc himself c) require considerable effort from him.

Examples: creating a cocktail for someone and asking them to name it (high friendship teapot), climbing mountains on his own birthday to collect rare berries and then cook a special dish with them for dinner (birthday letter).

The problem is that with these conditions it might sometimes be difficult to realize that the Grand Gesture is happening, bc Diluc himself is not gonna tell you. Sometimes you can deduce from context that he spent a lot of effort on it, but the context won’t always be obvious.

He’s constantly giving himself mental grades for everything he does, and especially for Grand Gestures, and unless the person he’s doing it for explicitly compliments him on a good job, he’s gonna decide he failed by default and forever remember how he disappointed his loved one.

(I will never get over the coffeeshop event where he was like “when I mixed my first drink as a small child, my father didn’t tell me that I succeeded, which means I failed a test of creativity.” MB YOUR DAD JUST WANTED U TO PLAY WITH SYRUPS FOR FUCKS SAKE)

So yeah, its better to err on the side of more “good jobs”. The man has a praise kink the size of Mond’s cathedral anyway, so can’t go wrong with that

Thoma

Thoma’s love language is also doing things for you, but specifically small everyday things.

He’s very perceptive and great at reading ppl, so he notices what you like and dislike, and accordingly surrounds you with your favorite things and removes annoyances.

It might sometimes require a lot of effort on his part, but he’ll never say it

Like you can mention that you love some rare jam at the cafe and next week it’s at your home and Thoma’s like “haha yeah, I found a place that sells it:)”, but actually he had to make three different deals and blackmail a merchant bc its not normally sold in shops

Your biggest cheerleader, incredibly supportive in all of your endeavors, if you have a deadline or big project coming up will try to do everything so you can focus on your thing with most comfort

Source: have you met him?

He also can find positives in any situation and will try to improve your mood if you’re feeling down

Like, what are you gonna do, NOT smile and feel better when he gives you a kitten in a knitted sweater?

Each separate thing might be small, but together they all create a protective golden bubble of warmth and positivity, that significantly improves your quality of life, even at the moments when he’s not around himself

Bc like you go to make tea and there’s your favorite tea, and your favorite jam, and the leaking water pipe was fixed without you even noticing, and there are fresh-baked cookies shaped like hearts and puppies

An off-field pyro shield, you might say adfhjkdfg

He also likes showing you his favorite places and just generally sharing nice moments together, esp if he thinks you need a break (hangout, high friendship teapot)  

Xiao

Xiao is a weird case, because he sees himself only valuable as a weapon, so he doesn’t think that trying to do something nice for other people would lead to anything good.

“You believe a Yaksha who knows nothing more than how to massacre countless souls and emerge unscathed is a suitable mentor for such an individual?” and so on and so forth.

So like the closest he gets to love language is actually this:

“If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.” “If you encounter a difficult situation, don't be stubborn. Call my name. I will make it right.” “I deal in death. If you cannot bring yourself to kill — speak my name.” “I'm willing to protect you. But don't think about getting close, and stay out of my way, or all that awaits you is regret.”

Which is not just protectiveness, but like his specific brand of willingness to blacken his soul even more so you don’t have to, while getting nothing in return. So yeah, even Xiao’s love language is basically angst lmao.

Though to be fair, once he gets over the fact that someone likes his company, he becomes curious and goes out of his way trying to understand them. He doesn’t see this as an expression of affection, more as a research, because it’s easier for him to rationalize it like that.

“It's too late. The connection between us is too strong. Even if you wanted to, it's too late to sever it. Hm? You've never thought to sever it? *sigh* This eternal dance of demon subjugation... My fight goes on. But I would like to know more about you.“

And the high friendship teapot dialogue, where he asks to go to Liyue together “The stories of these times, or their joys... If I don't experience such things myself, it'll be hard to understand your thoughts. So... you're doing this for me?  Xiao: Yes, to understand you.”

So he starts going out of his comfort zone to do things together (tho probably grumbling the whole way)

Kaeya

Like in most aspects, Kaeya contains multitudes. On the one hand, he is a hedonist.

Kaeya:  I have to say, though, that chatting with you is quite intoxicating... Kaeya: Actually, in much the same way that drinking is. Kaeya: So, I suppose... I'm just greedy and want to enjoy both of these pleasures at the same time.

So all in all, I'm just another layer in your cocktail of pleasure? Kaeya: Hahaha... What an interesting metaphor! I hadn't looked at it from that angle... Kaeya: Let me think... Kaeya: Hmm... Your analogy seems largely correct.

He will want to create moments combining as many pleasurable things as possible, but he will want to know that he is the most enjoyable thing for you in a situation.

In a boring\shitty situation, unlike Thoma who will try to find positives in it, Kaeya will try to become a positive thing that offsets bad parts himself

He’s naturally charming and talkative, likes making compliments and teasing, finding out things about other people, hearing you talk about your day and share problems (“Nothing would make me feel prouder than knowing that my words of advice are of some help to you. That would imply that you trust me and proves that I am capable of helping you solve your problems.” - it might sound exaggerated, but it actually isn’t, I’ll get to that)

He also loves storytelling and has a knack for it (second birthday letter where he offers to entertain with stories, ghost anecdotes, loves telling stories to kids, obv to Klee, but apparentely just likes telling fucked up scary stories to Mond’s children, Kaeya, just become a horror writer and stop giving kids nightmares ffs)

So he likes telling stories, from horror stories to life anecdotes he’s got from the tavern to retelling the books he’s read, and he’s funny and imaginative enough to make anything sound entertaining.

In sum, Kaeya’s love language is literally enjoying each other’s company, settling in a nice place with a bottle of wine and talking hours away about everything and anything, and knowing he can keep you happy and entertained

On the other hand, as i’ve said, he is a book nerd and he loves sharing knowledge. He has to hide his origins, and he obv hates it, and as an off-set he likes sharing his experience.

Like, Kaeya prioritizes giving advice and teaching what he knows to someone to help them learn how to deal with a thing instead of just doing it himself, so they can handle it even if they leave him later. The “give man one fish, teach man to fish” philosophy.

Sources: wrote “rules for survival” for Klee, “In fact... would you like me to compile a guide for you...?  It would contain all kinds of practical knowledge for at home and on the road, including the techniques I have developed for communicating with people from all walks of life. I'd like to share it all with you.”

idk how ppl think he’s just a shallow flirt, he literally offers to write a dedicated book for you unprompted, can you imagine how much effort, like??

But also imagine getting personalized “Manipulating People 101” in a beautiful handwriting asdfghjk what a nerd

No shit, if Klee was growing up at a normal rate, in her teens she’d have like 20 lovingly written textbooks like “How to use your innocent appearance to get away with anything”, “Calculating possible property damage from bombing,” “How to pin pyro damage on Darknight hero so Jean doesn’t get mad at you”.

He also likes doing nice things for ppl, but when he does nice things he likes to give credit to others or make it seem like he wasn't intending to do a nice thing and it just *happened* to end up like that, for like variety of reasons that i'm not getting into rn bc it's already too long lmao

[muzzleroars]

your blog is like a finite library where i continue to stumble upon beautiful things

thank you for your thoughts

as of the ask - how would you imagine fraud and characters in it, if you can picture it at all? between all three of the upcoming layers, this one is the most eluding one of their description, so it's always interesting to see different opinions on it

thank you so much! your art is genuinely such an inspiration, i'm always so happy to see a new piece from you and so i wanted to thank you as well for sharing your work

fraud is a very interesting layer in the inferno, with its set up being somewhat unique compared to many of the others as it consists of ten pits of torment that cover a pretty broad range of sinners. what stands out to me about it as an environment though is that it is within the walls of dis and it is a ruined city, with massive amounts of crumbling or simply destroyed architecture. this is sort of my basis for how i envision fraud and although i'm likely way off base, i think it could be interesting to see a transition in aesthetics in general past heresy.

heresy itself marks the first layer in dis, the city that consumes the lower layers of hell, and it's interesting to note the highly architectural environments it presents in game - the gothic cathedral is sharp and commanding, very much having a presence in itself. i would love to see more city-like environments included, but ones that have a distinct, alien feeling compared to those of the lust layer as they are not made by humans, it's architecture meant to torment, to enclose and to sicken, and i enjoy fraud being the pinnacle of this before it gives way to an utterly barren treachery. but importantly, i want to see the decay of fraud, to see its twisted form nearly incomprehensible in its destruction. once there stood buildings difficult for the mind to conceive, but those fell centuries ago and the damage of so many souls suddenly filling what's left of its skeletal remains only ruined them further. fully understanding and taking advantage of all the ways it can move is now vital to v1, some areas near impossible to traverse as no comprehensible paths exist (if they ever did). it would be a very tiered layer, with v1 sometimes having to ascend into different bolgia in order to make its progress - i just like the idea of playing a lot with movement and creative thinking (+ some help from explosives) to find paths forward. overall, i want the sense that this was a city but it's impossible to say anything beyond that, what's left all jarring to the senses and nearly overwhelming to look at (especially again to contrast it with treachery, a blank, unending void that barely has a single thing the eyes can find purchase on).

following that, however, i think fraud will really do something to emphasize the blindness of hell - like several people have pointed out by now, many beings lack eyes in hell, but i think the most important of these have been the angels. virtues have their eyes removed (or they simply vanish) upon descending into hell while gabriel's helmet appears sightless as well, and we now know this is likely due to god being so ashamed of it he wants no one to actually behold it. this makes fraud quite interesting for a couple reasons: in the inferno, the lower layers mark the beginning of sinners wishing for no one to lay eyes upon them as they are so humiliated by their state and who they were in life to place them so deep into hell. they attempt to hide their identities, they sometimes do not give their names, and this becomes incredibly apparent in fraud. additionally, fraud is a sin of deceit, many of the sinners there those that worked in secret to do harm, meaning even in life they wished to go unseen. so i very much think that the sightless nature of hell will be worked in deeply - i would be interested in all the husks and demons here to be without eyes, with only the machines remaining to see it. this is also another reason why i want fraud to be so difficult to look at - it doesn't want to be seen, it begs not to be perceived and it never should be. before it was only the angels that all had their eyes taken, but so deep into the layers nothing may see, everything must be sightless lest it see a world so painful and so hideous, so ugly and so embarrassing to god.

so my ideas are very much based around the actual source material of the inferno, but i do think fraud could make for some really interesting architecture. and i would sort of like to see a husk/husks that seem adapted to living in such a bizarre place, a lot like the stalkers with forms now made for vertical ascents and clawing their way over ruins, possibly translucent like so many animals that live without sun in the deep sea (not to riff too much on wrath lol). i guess in a sense it really is like those trenches or subterranean cave networks - alien and unsettling, difficult to traverse with its grotesque geography, and suited to life totally unlike that above it. fraud is a place that wants to hide, but ironically it exists as one of the most expansive layers in all of hell.

[josephseedismyfather]

WIP Music (it's not) Monday (anymore)

Thanks to @inafieldofdaisies and @cassietrn for tagging me in this week's post! Sorry for the delay!

The rules: Post a song that is relevant to your WIP or inspires it. I’m also including the lyrics.

Afflicted.

I will never bother you I will never promise to I will never follow you I will never bother you Never speak a word again I will crawl away for good I will move away from here You won't be afraid of fear No thought was put into this I always knew it would come to this Things have never been so swell I have never failed to fail

Pain Pain Pain

You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right I'm so warm and calm inside

I no longer have to hide Let's talk about someone else The steaming soup begins to melt Nothing really bothers her She just wants to love herself I will move away from here You won't be afraid of fear No thought was put into this I always knew to come like this Things have never been so swell I have never failed to fail

Pain Pain Pain Pain Pain

You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know you're right You know your rights You know you're right

Parenesis.

Put your loving hand out, baby 'Cause I'm beggin'

I'm beggin', beggin' you So, put your loving hand out, baby I'm beggin', beggin' you So, put your loving hand out, darling

Riding high, when I was king I played it hard and fast, 'cause I had everything I walked away, but you warned me then But easy come, and easy go, and it would end

So, any time I bleed, you let me go Yeah, any time I feed you, get me? No? Any time I seek, you let me know But I plan and see, just let me go

I'm on my knees when I'm beggin' 'Cause I don't want to lose you Hey yeah, ratatata

'Cause I'm beggin', beggin' you And put your loving hand out, baby I'm beggin', beggin' you And put your loving hand out, darling

I need you to understand Tried so hard to be your man The kind of man you want in the end Only then can I begin to live again

An empty shell, I used to be The shadow of my life was hanging over me A broken man that I don't know Won't even stand the devil's chance to win my soul

What we doing? What we chasing? Why the bottom? Why the basement? Why we got good shit, don't embrace it? Why'd you feel for the need to replace me? You're the wrong way track from the good I want to paint a picture telling where we could be at Like a heart in the best way should You can give it away, you had, and you took the pay

But I keep walking on, keep opening doors Keep hoping for, that the door is yours Keep oh-so home 'Cause I don't wanna live in a broken home Girl, I'm beggin'

Mmm, ye-e-e-ah I'm beggin', beggin' you So, put your loving hand out, baby I'm beggin', beggin' you So, put your loving hand out, darling

I'm fighting hard to hold my own Just can't make it all alone I'm holding on, I can't fall back I'm just a calm 'bout to fade to black

I'm beggin', beggin' you Put your loving hand out, baby I'm beggin', beggin' you So, put your loving hand out, darling

Untitled John WIP.

Under the water It's cold and it's grey My torrid autumn Another season decays Open up the hollow And my walls come down I tell you it's a problem Just when no one's around But then

I know what's wrong God, you complicated everything I know you're gone, gone, gone This is where I will draw a line

I will draw my line

I'm burning my cathedrals 'Cause I don't pray anymore Look at all of these people, tragic little people They smile and then they don't know what for But then

I know what's wrong God, you complicated everything I know you're gone, gone, gone This is where I will blur my line

I will blur my line

Yeah!

Our houses are haunted, dark and deserted They're made of my secrets and shame Maybe I want it but now I'm not worth it I can't even tell you my name But then

I know what's wrong God, you complicated everything I know you're wrong God, you took it all away from me I know you're gone, gone, gone This is where I will cross my line

I am crossing my line

Tagging, with no pressure and apologies for doubles as always: @wrathfulrook, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @trench-rot, @ladyoriza, @redreart, @hotmessteaparty, @g0dspeeed, @v0idbuggy, @insanityofvaas, @simplegenius042, @malefiquinn, @strangefable, @noodlecupcakes, @neverthesameneveranother, @chazz-anova, @aristomal, @ocdemon-747, @evilvvithin, and anyone else who wants to play. Tag me! 😘