#the claire bible

[ahb-writes]

Book Review: ‘Slayers’ Collector’s Edition #3

Slayers Volumes 7-9 Collector's Edition (Slayers, 3) by Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, Elizabeth Ellis

adventure

fantasy

magecraft

magic

swords and sorcery

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The fascinating. The powerful. The corrupt.

Each shadowy entity wreaking havoc on this mortal plane has manufactured an array of ignoble philosophies to justify its dark deeds. Some of these philosophies are brutish and rudimentary (e.g., demons are creatures of ill omen, who feed off the ill intentions of others), and some philosophies are dangerously, monstrously complex (e.g., demons vying to reduce all existence to nothingness, for only in nothingness is there true calm). And yet, through it all, a tiny sorceress with a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, might be the only person capable of keeping everyone in check.

SLAYERS Omnibus v3 includes the bookend chapters to the novel series' first major arc. This collection delivers all of the good stuff: strange and incredible spellcasting; clever but not over-the-top magecraft lore; villains who get their comeuppance; and new characters with plenty of issues all their own.

In book seven, Gaav's Challenge, readers are treated to a plethora of entertaining narrative elements, some of which regrettably snare very little time on the page. Lina and the gang trudge toward Dragon's Peak, at the edge of the Kaltaart Mountains, to access a remnant of the Claire Bible. The mythos surrounding the Claire Bible is immense, but filters into readers' purview with somewhat less flair than in the anime, but the reasoning is valid (e.g., there are other access points).

Conceptually, the Claire Bible is remarkable. In execution, however, it's wildly underused. The notion of a body of knowledge stored on a blithely accessible plane of reality, hoarded by those who have no use for it? The Claire Bible is a great example of how fantasy storytelling is both parallel to, and a paradox of, the real world's social, cultural, and political machinations. Lina, of course, is a genius, and she's keen to use it to figure out the universe's darkest magic ("I'm afraid I'm not an enlightened enough being to just roll over and die for something I don't yet understand," page 76).

This book is stuffed with a lot of action and a lot of lore. The fight at Dragon's Peak includes several full-demons, a revelation or two concerning Xellos's true nature, and a deliberate broadening of the novel series' narrative scope. Of the last of these, stepping onto the stage are Hellmaster (Fibrizo) and Chaos Dragon (Gaav), two of Ruby-Eye's five high-ranking demon servants. These are two seriously bad dudes with massive power at their disposal. For readers, the orientation and allegiance of each high-ranking demon is muddled (but assiduous note-taking might resolve this in due time). The good news at this point is that Kanzaka, the author, is dead serious about narrative continuity. Of less good news, this book has plenty of character dynamics that are easy for readers to lose track of (e.g., Amelia almost dies; Gaav isn't an egotistical villain on the lam, he's a sympathetic anti-hero).

In book eight, King of the Phantom City, it's back to Sairaag. Fibrizo artificially resurrects the City of Magic and craters Flagoon (ancient tree) in the process. His baiting of Lina, Zelgadis, Amelia, and also Sylphiel to tread into his so-called Hellpalace, of the City of the Dead, is typical villain stuff. And Fibrizo's snatching up of Gourry, as a hostage, makes the story's climax intuitively time-contingent. But as fans of the franchise likely already know, Fibrizo's ambitions are much, much darker.

The balance between books seven and eight is okay in the moment, but upon reflection, feels slightly off. Book seven is packed with information and intrigue; book eight, essentially, is the open-ended struggle to apply that knowledge. One imagines these volumes were slightly more difficult to consume, on their own, during their original printing.

In any case, book eight is a treat, insofar as spellcasting goes. Lina intuits the limitations of the powers of the higher-ranking demons, she discerns the network of power-sharing that enables her to cast certain dark magic, and lastly and most importantly, she learns the truth about the Lord of Nightmares. Lina does, in fact, "cast the perfected giga slave" (page 204). Controlling it, of course, is another matter entirely. Fibrizo's end is not to be missed.

Altogether, the book's conclusion is excellent, and lacks the fun but romanticized version the anime pulled together. Lina is a pragmatic character, but she's not so stubborn as to ignore what she learned from the matron of chaos firsthand.

Book nine, The Mystic Sword of Bezeld, begins a new story arc. Notably, the novel series pivots in a direction one might have wondered about for years considering the apparent fate of Gorun Nova, the Sword of Light. In the previous book, Fibrizo zapped the magical blade back to the astral plane.

The challenge this time around? Lina is blunt: "Gourry and I were presently on a quest to find him a new magical monster-carver," because, as she notes to the man himself, "I'm not getting a half-decent night's sleep until I find you a half-decent magical sword" (pages 218, 220).

Here, the story shifts onto a lighter beat and reduces the core cast down to Lina and Gourry. The slower pace feels good. And the stripped-down emphasis on characters fighting for one another, rather than fighting to save the whole planet, roots the novel in familiar territory. Sure, there are assassins clad in black. Sure, there are mysterious swords-for-hire hunting for the same treasure as Lina and Gourry. But the scope and scale are manageable.

And when the story is manageable, the worldbuilding can finally breathe again. Losing the Sword of Light gives Lina, as narrator, permission to chat about all of the other fantasy blades that populate the world (and possible swipe for Gourry): the Blast Sword, the Bless Blade, the Red Dragon Sword, the Elemekia Blade, the Dark Lord's Hungry Bone Staff, Ceifeed's Flare Dragon Sword (pages 209, 217). The idea that readers could spend the next few volumes sword-hunting with these two idiots, getting into trouble and feuding all of the way, sounds like an absolute blessing.

But as fate would have it, Lina gets in the way of someone else's carefully laid plans (again). For the umpteenth time, Lina barges in on a high-level demon's plan-in-action, decides she can't quite let things be, and resolves to fight her way through. Granted, the young woman has zero interest in fighting off a "hyperdemon" smothered with the curse of Raugnut Rushavna, but what's a woman to do? When an assassin is transformed by a demonic curse, and is then simultaneously possessed by a demon, the end result is a constantly regenerating creature of death and destruction.

SLAYERS Omnibus v3 is solidly entertaining. The author's increased focus on continuity gives the story a genuine sense of fated consequences (e.g., when a high-ranking demon dies, spellcasters can no longer call upon their power). Further, the book's higher emphasis on character mythology really shows, and portends greater revelations down the line (e.g., if Xellos is a creation of Greater Beast (Zellas Metallium), then who are the priests and generals to the other five servants of Ruby-Eye?). And some facets of the story are just too fun to ignore. Like how Lina's super-powerful big sister is known as "Knight of Ceifeed," but is stuck waiting tables back home. Or how Gourry, apparently, has a sixth sense for sniffing out demons. (Except, he's just too simple-minded to actually do anything about it. Twice in this collection, the guy just goes with the flow.)

The balance between what the narrative reaps and sows isn't perfect, but in reading these three books all at once, one finds the disparity is minimal. Reading about the wicked intensity Lina feels when weighing the ragna blade in her hands never fails to send a chill down one's spine, and the absolute shock of a double-Dragon-Slave still makes one giddy, but alas, there's always more story to tell.

❯ ❯ Light-Novel Reviews || ahb writes on Good Reads

[pyxilatezero]

The Gay Bible (Vol. 3)

CLAIRE- our Bisexual godess

RAE- our isekai lesbian hero that we all want but don’t deserve

YUU- the god of trans women

MAY AND ALEH- Adorable children. Must protec.

MANARIA- Um. She’s here too I think (squee, please marry me. You can join my harem of Furina Topaz Weiss [whom I share with Ruby] and Silver Wolf)

MISHA- Yeet

RALAIRE- “born from the fruit of our loooove” - Rei Oohashi (AKA Rae Taylor), Vol 1, Somewhere in chapter 1 or 2

I’m in love with this book series (pun intended) and I got the third book as a (late) Christmas gift. Would recommend.

Edit: here’s Vol. 1 & 2

[average-book-enjoyer]

book of mormon musical. the brainrot is getting me again

[grandpasessions]

Now the story of Abraham shows him [Kierkegaard], more clearly than ever, the contrast between two kinds of religious life, distinguished by very different attitudes to the world.

The sacrificial part of Abraham’s movement dragged out in the arduous journey up Mount Moriah and climaxing in the unthinkable binding of Isaac, the heart-stopping flash of a knife – is perceived by some people to be the summit of the God-relationship. Kierkegaard admires the ‘monastic movement’ of withdrawal from the world, rarely attempted in this modern age where religious passion is no longer valued as it used to be. He calls those who live like this ‘knights of resignation’, in contrast to the successful figures in Danish public life who are appointed Knights of the Order of the Dannebrog by the king. While these worldly knights enjoy secular prestige, the knights of resignation stand apart from the world, spiritually elevated and remote.

Yet something higher still lies beyond them, a paradoxical peak that can be reached only by descending. Having renounced everything for the sake of God, Abraham made a further movement, returning to the world, embracing finitude, and living contentedly with his earthly gifts. Walking down the mountain with his son Isaac beside him, he was not just a knight of resignation, but a ‘knight of faith’. For Kierkegaard, Abraham exemplifies a way of being human in the world that neither withdraws like a hermit or a monk, nor conforms to conventional bourgeois values. The ‘guiding star’ of Abraham belongs to a paradoxical constellation: a faith that is lived in the world, yet defies worldly expectations.

Kierkegaard imagines the movements of this faith as the light, graceful leaps of a ballet dancer – repeated again and again, each time a little different, and as arduous to perform as they are delightful to watch. The soul’s dance expresses its longing for God, for eternity, for an unknown infinity. Most people are ‘wallflowers’ who do not take part in this dance; the knights of resignation ‘are dancers, and possess elevation’ – but when they land, they falter, showing that they cannot be at home in the world.

A knight of faith, however, lands as easily as he leapt, ‘transforming the leap of life into a walk’. He makes existence look so easy that there is nothing to tell him apart from the most unreflective, spiritless person who, immersed in everyday concerns, sees no significance in life beyond its immediate satisfactions and disappointments. The knight of faith’s relationship to God is entirely inward, hidden from public view. A divine grace sustains each step of his journey through the world, but he receives 6 this gift secretly, in silence.

Philosopher of the Heart Claire Carlisle

[dearinglovebot]

Considering the horse scene in JW Dominion, can we say that the Dearing-Grady family are people of questionable hygiene?

owen and maisie probably track mud into the living room because they forget to take their boots off but claire is just getting her freak on. she'd be making everyone shower and mop the floor otherwise.

just look at her. disgustingly horny woman. she is planning diabolical things that will advance feminism by 12 years

[heaven-helpus]

i hate that a personal option for a chosen name if i ever changed my name is francis. like guys im so normal abt mcr but I SWEAR ITS NOT BC OF FRANK.

[fsfsfsgkgkgk]

Trump vs. Proverbs

[claremont-psychiatric-hospital]

Prodigal Son + Rembrandt (part 2) (part 1)

Isaac and Rebecca (c. 1665) The Return of the Prodigal Son (1642) The Return of the Prodigal Son (c. 1669) Slaughtered Ox (1655) Belshazzar's Feast (c. 1635)

[trannydean-moved]

[post godstiel era] jaime: oh my cas cas: stop jaime: thank castiel cas: jaime please jaime: cas on a cracker! cas: stop reminding me of my flop era

[otterlycrete]

:')

[ahb-writes]

(from Slayers Collector's Edition #3 by Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, Elizabeth Ellis)

[chefkids]

My Sydcarmy Bible

The Most Damning Evidence

Carmy took Claire to Sheridan Road*

Carmy made Sydney's Pasta for Claire*

Claire is Carmy's projection of Sydney*

Claire was the Cold Prep*

Strange Currencies was never Claire's song

Claire is the physical manifestation of Carmy's avoidance*

Carmy gave Syd an I love you

The Bear is A Midsummer Night's Dream and Marcus is making the Violet love potion for Syd and Carmy*

The food that ties them together

She’s still thinking about that short rib risotto*

He’s also still thinking about that short rib risotto*

Radicchio and Fennel – Carmy gets emotional remembering Syd*

Sydney is the Fennel

Carmy does not know how to do a chaos menu

The Movie References

Sydney is Our Mother of Victory – The Great Outdoors

"Syd is a lesbian." No, she's not – Some Kind of Wonderful

Carmen's Hungry Eyes For Sydney – Dirty Dancing

Carmy is experiencing Vertigo

The Bear's Magic Tricks: From Dreams to Love Stories to Trainwrecks to Alien Motherships

The Symbolisms & Metaphors

A Delicate Fucking Ecosystem*

Sydney is the Muse*

Spoon Fork Knife Theory

Sydney lights a fire for Carmy*

Carmy's Bachelor Party After Syd Dumped Him

Screwing Under The Table*

Carmy left Syd on the table*

Syd & Carmy's Table Settings and Lights*

Emotional Cheating*

The Good Thing*

"Who is your best friend?" Sydney & Fak's Costuming

Syd & Carmy's Tattoos*

Sydney has her own 7 Fishes

Sydney is Carmy's new drive.

Sydney got her mothers car (drive)

Sydney is on the last train home

Richie dropping hints

Claire is not Carmy's future. She's "Wednesday".

The Scrunchie Does Not Fit In, but Carmy is Saving it for Later

Sydney fell in love with Carmy in a train station

[lovelytsunoda]

just like heaven // yuki tsunoda

summary: love is in the air at y/n’s cousins wedding, and it’s got yuki in a loving mood.

pairing: yuki tsunoda x female reader

warnings: 18+ smutty and romantic content :) sex in a library, semi-public sex, two fuckers who are so madly in love I’ve become jealous of my own writing, the library is full of bibles and religious text so does that mean this might be sacrilege? yuki may or may not have some sort of marriage related kink

the air smelled like roses and freshly cut grass, heavy with a feeling of love, and the hazy smoke coming from the fire pit at the head of the tent. a dance floor had been cleared out in the middle of the uneven grassy surface, a portable wooden floor laid out as a makeshift dance floor. it had clearly once been white, but had stained over the years.

yuki tsunoda sat at the groom's table, watching with a lovestruck gaze as his eyes found his girlfriend, who was dancing with her cousin in the middle of the floor. huey lewis and the news played from the bluetooth speaker in the corner, the bride circulating the room and speaking to relatives.

y/n and her cousin had been close once upon a time. they were only a year apart in age, and had both been babysat by their grandmother while their mothers worked. they fell out of touch a little as they got older, only seeing each other at major holidays, but when will had called y/n to announce that he had gotten engaged, y/n was over teh moon for him.

yuki thought she looked beautiful in the soft glow of the fairy lights, her red dress swirling around her thighs as she danced uninhibited, not worrying about how she appeared to the other wedding guests. her hair shone in the light, her smile radiant.

and yuki wondered if one day, perhaps he and y/n would be sharing a similar stage. except she would be wearing white, and they would have matching silver rings on their fingers.

as the song changed, yuki stepped away from teh table and towards the dancefloor, hoping to steal a moment with his lover as will scanned the tent for his wife.

"congratulations, will. give my best to claire as well, just in case i don't see her again before the evening ends." y/n said, giving her cousin a hug before he sauntered off to find claire.

yuki beamed at her, extending a hand. "may i have this dance, my fair maiden?"

"yes, you may." she smiled, wrapping her arms around yuki and tucking her body into his as they began to sway to the music.

in her heels, she was taller than him, in the same way that jason statham's wife towered over the actor. but yuki didn't mind. if anything, it made him swoon even more.

as they danced, his mind began to wander. what song would they have their first dance to? would it be that inxs song she liked? or would it be one direction, a callback to the girl who dreamed of her wedding but never thought it would come? what would they serve? a pasta bar, or a buffet line?

"whatcha' thinking about?" she hummed, forehead against his.

"us. you. forever." yuki sighed. "i want this to be us someday. all of it. the white dress, the speeches, the expensive food. surrounded by the people we love the most."

her heart softened, and she bit back a cry, feeling tears stinging the back of her eyes. weddings always did have a way of making her emotional.

"oh, yuki." she said softly, leaning in for a kiss. "i love you forever. when the time is right, and we can take the proper time to plan and to book a honeymoon. because you're it for me. all i want for the rest of my life. but i'm not in a rush."

"neither am i.” yuki smiled, kissing her knuckles. “I love you forever.”

the song ended, y/n easing back on her heels and wincing as she realized just how sore her feet were in her pale pink stilettos. she had prepared for this and packed a pair of thick-soled sandals in her tote bag, stowed gently underneath the grooms table.

back at the table, yuki helped her ease he sore feet out of their shoes, slipping a jacket around her shoulders as she slipped into her sandals. she kissed him on the cheek, wrapping the jacket tighter around her body as she rested her head on his shoulder.

it was hard not to feel giddy when surrounded by so much love. two years ago, she would have left the celebration feeling melancholia, tainted by the fear that she might never find her person. today, she hoped that she could hold on to the love she had, the feeling of safety and security that yuki brought her.

“you cold, love?” yuki asked, lips pressed against her forehead. “we can pop back inside the church for a moment to warm up if you want.”

“yeah, I need a minute of quiet, I think.” she agreed, kissing the underside of yukis jaw before reaching for her silver clutch purse.

yuki gently pulled her chair away from the table, taking her hand as she got to her feet. tucking his arm around her waist, he pulled her close as they ducked out of the white canvas party tent. she could feel the dewy grass on her feet, one hand holding her skirt away from the damp. her lovers hand dropped down her back, comfortingly running over her bum, and then her hip as they neared the low brick church building.

yn hadn’t been a church-goer in her youth, only attending for family functions, but she appreciated the generous plot of land that the religious institution rested on. it was a stunning view over the hill, peering into the entire valley below.

they slipped inside the church, y/n sighing contentedly as she gradually warmed to the inside temperature. yuki took her free hand, pulling her in for a kiss. she hummed against his lips, sighing against his body.

“come on, I want to show you something.” she laughed, practically dragging yuki behind her as she took off down the hallway. “I used to hide in here to get out of listening to sermons. especially when my cousins got baptized a few years ago, I got restless listening to the pastor talk so I went for a walk and stumbled upon this place.”

she tried the doorknob, delighted to find it unlocked as she pushed the door inwards. the door opened into a small library. the couple were surrounded by tall bookshelves filled with leather bound volumes of religious texts, the far wall filled with ornate stained glass windows, casting the wooden floor in varying colours as she sun started to fade from the sky.

“there are better books up top. there also used to be a rolling ladder in here but pastor frankie had to take it out after a choirboy fell off it and broke his arm trying to find a copy of miss chatterley's lover.”

"no shit." yuki chuckled, helping her out of the jacket draped over her shoulders. "this is quite the place."

"that it is." she laughed softly in return, reaching for the lapels of her lover's shirt. "come here."

still laughing, she pressed her lips to his, relaxing in his arms and letting herself fall into the kiss. she never had to be anything she wasn't with yuki. she trusted him more than she had ever trusted anybody else. he knew her inside and out, in mind and soul and in body. his lips were grounding against hers, pillowy soft and applying just the right amount of pressure against her own.

it was incredible how responsive she was to yuki's touch. she hadn't come in to the library with the intentions of having sex up against shelves of leather bound books, or sprawled out on the vintage wooden desk, yet as she sighed under his touch, she could feel her nerve endings crackling with life. she moaned into the kiss as his hand trailed up the slit in her dress to clutch at her thigh, and she was a goner. his lips trailed across her neck, his tongue darting out to kitten-lick at her pulse point and she felt her knees go weak.

"babe, in a church?"

yuki pulled away to look at her, his eyes soft and full of adoration. "you always said you wanted to be romanced in a library. i'm sure this isn't what you had in mind, but it's good enough for me. if you want it, of course."

she smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "don't stop now."

and he didn't. yuki backed her against the desk, pulling her legs up and around his waist. her sandals fell to the floor as his fingers fumbled clumsily with the zipper on the back of her dress. giggling softly, she pushed his hands away, pulling the stubborn zip down by herself before she guided his hands back towards her exposed breasts.

her thighs tingled with anticipation, and she could feel the wet spot on her lacy panties growing as yuki massaged her tender breasts, rolling her peaked nipples between his fingers, the pendant of her sliver necklace resting just above them.

"you're so beautiful." he whispered, scared that speaking any louder would ruin this magical moment they had created.

"you're not too bad yourself, handsome." she hummed, caressing his face.

she tilted her head up, kissing him again. harder this time, her tongue scraping against his lips, begging desperately for entrance as she pressed up against him, searching for friction to ease the ache between her thighs. it was awkward, given the seating arrangements in the library, but she managed to grind against his dress pants, one hand dropping from his neck to his cock as his lips parted enough to allow their tongues to touch.

she sighed breathily under his touch, yuki's hand gently caressing her bare thighs as he reached for her lacy white panties. gripping the edges of the table, she leveraged her weight to raise her hips, allowing her lover to peel the fabric away from her body. he slipped the panties into the pocket of his slacks before raising her knees and pressing kisses to her thighs.

"tell me what you want, my love. my tongue, my fingers, my cock. all of it is yours, just say the word." he rasped, running his thumb over her clit.

"that thing you do with your fingers." she hummed, canting her hips forward, trying to capture his slender fingers inside her dripping center. "you know the one."

"the one that makes you laugh, or the one that makes you scream?"

"both."

she gasped as his fingers slipped into her with little resistance, the driver scissoring both fingers, pushing up against her velvet-soft walls. she bit back a curse, tilting her head back and exposing her neck for him to kiss and suck at.

his lips were warm and soft as he peppered her skin with delicate, soft kisses, in contrast to the lightning-sharp way that he moved his fingers inside of her.

"fuck, that feels good." she breathed, digging her nails into his shoulders through the fabric of his dress shirt, breathing heavy as pants turned into moans.

the light from the stained glass window reflected over her skin, bathing her in the warm colors and contrasting shades created by the glass artwork. the sight took yuki's breath away, a part of him wondering if there was a way to capture that image and sear it into his brain forever. she looked positvely angelic, lips slightly parted, back arched in pleasure.

“that’s my girl. that’s my sexy fucking girl. are you going to come on my fingers, sweet girl?”

she gripped his arms, nodding furiously as she whined out a ‘yes’, grinding against his fingers as he pressed the heel of his hand against her clit.

“yuki, oh my god, shit.” she whined, burying her head in his neck.

his lips were soft against her hairline as he talked her through it, mumbling sweet nothings and dotting her sweaty skin with kisses as he finger-fucked her towards the edge.

“atta girl. I’ve got you, just breathe. my best girl. my perfect girl, coming so good for me.”

she sighed as she came, a breathy, whiny sound, fingers tightening around his biceps.

“you’re safe, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” yuki whispered, running a hand up and down her back. “you did so good, angel.”

she kissed him slowly, relishing in the feeling of his lips against hers. she smiled into the kiss, her hands exploring the expanse of muscle through his shirt.

her french-manicured nails found the buttons on his dress shirt, slowly popping them open. she kissed the warm skin on his chest as she went down, fingers moving towards the button on his pants.

“does my pretty baby want my dick?” yuki crooned, caressing her cheek as he looked down at her adoringly. “anything you want from me, just say the word.”

“babe, I always want your dick.” she smiled, taking him in her palm, stroking up and down his length. bathed in the light from the window, she thought he looked like a greek god.

she lined him up with her entrance, hiking both legs over his hips and allowing him to push himself inside of her. inch by inch, he slipped in slowly, his forehead resting against hers before he leaned in to kiss her, trading moans into each others mouths as he bottomed out.

he could die here and be happy, wrapped up in the woman he loved, her warm walls cushioning him on all sides. this overwhelming feeling of closeness. he started to move, thrusting slowly and interspersing the movements with swivels and grinds of the hips, rubbing against her soft, plushy walls, drawing every little whine and breath and pant from her lungs.

“oh god, baby, that’s incredible.” she tilted her hips forward, head rolling back as she tried to take him deeper.

one of her hands dropped to the table to support her body weight, the other tangling in yukis hair. she pulled gently, watching with pleasure as his eyes rolled back, a soft growl leaving his throat. in response, he thrusted harder, deeper.

“that’s my sweet girl. looking so fucking pretty with my rock-hard dick buried inside you. all fucking mine to worship. you know what I think about when I get off? our future. domestic things. picking out silverware, buying our forever house. you in a white dress, a big fucking diamond on your finger. you’re it for me.”

he was thrusting quicker now, pulling out almost halfway before slamming back in again, his hands gripping her thighs so tightly she worried there might be bruises. his eyes weee trained on her chest, captivated by the way her breasts bounced from the force.

“yes, yes.” she moaned, back arched as she kissed his neck, leaving a series of small hickeys in her wake. “fuck, I want everything with you, too.”

“yeah, you want me to make you my pretty perfect wife?”

“god, yes.” she was certain she was dripping onto the table, the room filled with laboured breathing and the wet sounds of yukis cock splitting her in half. “fuck, baby, I love you so much.”

the coil in her stomach was wound tighter than a wire, and she could feel that she was on the edge. any second now, she’d snap.

“fill me up.” she whined. “fucking make me yours.”

“want you to come first.” he rasped, dropping his hand to her sensitive clit. “love you so much, sweet girl. just let me make you feel so so good, okay?”

she kissed him again, fingers in his hair, then on his shoulders, searching for purchase as she hid her face in his broad chest. she always got shy when her orgasms approached. yuki found it endearing, and soft.

“I’ve got you pretty girl. come for me. just let go, make a pretty little mess on my dick.”

she came with a loud moan, feeling her legs go slack in her lovers grip as she rested all of her weight on him, her head nestled comfortably between shoulder and neck, his soft fingertips trailing up and down her thighs, his gentle voice reminding her to breathe through it.

“fuck, baby, I love you so much. I love you. I love you.” he repeated it like a chant as he reached his own climax, stuttering his words as he spilled inside her. “god, you’re so good to me.”

after a small moment to catch their breaths, yuki gently pulled out. she whined at the loss of contact, reading her whine for a contented sigh when yuki pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, gentle hands helping her readjust her dress.

“babe, I think I’m dripping on the table.” she admitted, red-faced and shy. “what did you do with my underwear?”

yuki grinned roguishly, dramatically producing the offending pair of panties from his pockets. “kept them nice and safe for you.”

“sure you did.” she laughed easing herself off the table, deliberately not looking at the mess she’d left behind.

while she redressed, yuki searched the pockets of his suit jacket for his red pocket square, u folding it and using the thin, expensive fabric to clean all evidence of their tryst off the hardwood.

“yuki, come on! not the pocket square!” she laughed, using her fingers to comb through her hair. “you’re so gross.”

“what else was I supposed to use?” he laughed, putting the square in his pocket and slipping the jacket over his shoulders. he pulled her in for a soft kiss, hands gently caressing her curves. “come on, let’s get back to the party.”

the pair stepped out of the library, linked arm in arm, content and sated as they turned to walk out of the church, and found themselves bumping headfirst into will and claire. judging by the lipstick stain on wills collar, and the flushed red of claire’s face, the happy couple had just snuck away to do the same.

“we never speak of this again.” will groaned, averting his eyes. “ever!”

[naisaspalace]

small random nakshatra observations

1. magha ; purva phalguni : both usually embody the king archetype although is more common to see magha working to become the king if they happen not be born from a rich family because the “inheritance” can also be spiritual. i’ve seen both maghas being born from wealth and also ones that have no wealth yet became rich thru marriage and etc… purva phalguni is actually more commonly to be seen as the prince (kings son)

2. jyeshta :

2.1. i’ve noticed recently (especially from claire’s video) that they usually become kings but ALSO they actually come from wealthy families!!!! because to me the main difference between magha and jyeshta was that scorpio was supposed to rise to the top and that leo was the one who came from wealth but that concept really altered inside my head when I discovered that a huge famous person from my country responsible for changing the media communication had a jyeshta sun and he said that he’s family (he is a jewish but he went to portugal) paid to Christophe Colombo expedition to brazil (my country) , between other really historical important stuff that happened, and I was like what?? turns out he’s a jyeshta sun , uttara phalguni virgo asc, vishakha venus rx libra (I’m not sure about his map but I mentally converted the degrees) but this is amazing for sure, he’s name is silvio santos if you would like to know about him (I’m assuming you’re not brazilian or know about him)

2.2 ALSO another thing about jyeshta… since lilith is the oldest woman (bible) well I had a suspicion for a while that she could have been jyeshta related because besides she falling to the eldest daughter (rohinis older sister) category her themes are liberation, freeing oneself from sexuality taboos, rebirth, setting boundaries etcc which they all fall into scorpio /8th domain and this nakshatra is actually the one who comes closer to her story and definition and she’s also have a like for snakes and blood.

the end: I really just wanted to share this little information with y’all I hope I was able to help someone and also send me requests for post ideas if you desire to see anything special :))) thank you for reading.

[glitterslag]

I just remembered that it's insinuated that Claire used to be nerdy or whatever back in high school. Like in 2.06, Richie I think it is, says she's hot now, as if she never used to be. In old photos/carmy's memories, Claire's pictured wearing glasses. Mikey and Richie say "the glasses came off" - like that trope in movies where the nerdy/awkward girl character takes off her glasses and everyone sees she was beautiful all along.

It's interesting that that's how Richie and Mikey viewed her because it's not the view that we get of Claire when she's first introduced at all. Maybe it's cause we first see her through carmy's eyes, but she seems like she's always been the cool, hot popular girl, or at the very least the pretty girl from down the street. And she certainly seems pretty confident.

When they're in the car together, Carmy says something like "you had so many friends back then." I get that her being nerdy doesn't necessarily have to mean she was unpopular, but it just seems a little incongruous with the former view of her.

Anyways then we have Syd, who went home after her first shift at the beef and typed up a business plan thicker than the fucking bible for extra credit🥹🥹🥹 Syd who's portrayed as the awkward, (loveably) nerdy girl from the start. Very much not the cool girl, but very much being herself. And it's clear that carmy is so fucking endeared by her right off the bat too. And he respects her, and he's in awe of her, and sometimes she makes him a little nervous.

I guess what I'm saying is, Syd doesn't have to be the cool hot sexy mirage of a woman that Claire is for Carmy to be endeared by her and awed by her and nervous of her. He just likes her for who she is.

[shadesoflsk]

WILL YOU BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS?

pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x gn!reader

summary: It's going to be Leon's first Christmas without you. He promised you he would get over your death. But how is he planning to do it if the ghost of you keeps haunting him?

warnings: Character’s death, (reader) angst, hurt/no comfort, self-destructing behaviour, alcohol, mentions of religion, Leon speaks with reader.

author's note: I took the liberty to switch the order of my Christmas' special fics, I decided to post this one first since I liked it a lot. I would even say it’s my favorite one so far. Grief is such an interesting topic to write about, so I hope I did a great job! The dialogue part was lowkey (highkey) inspired by one scene from the Crown, season 6. The one where Carlos talked with Diana’s spirit. 

It’s 11:45 pm or so Leon believes. Time seems to slow down when night engulfs his apartment, and he is let alone with his own demons. He would be in pitch darkness if it wasn’t from the fact that his neighbor had decided to turn on the Christmas tree lights that reached through Leon’s windows. Faint carols could be heard, and it was a dreadful reminder of what date it was. 

He is trying, he really is. He drowns in his job that is slowly but surely killing him. Mission after mission, he keeps attempting to mess up — with no avail — since life is cruel enough to keep him alive, to continue watching his sins materialize in sorrow and depressive states. 

During the latter, he would often forget or purposely avoid taking care of himself. When was the last time he ate a full meal? He doesn’t nor wants to remember. His apartment was starting to reek of alcohol and rotten food that Claire has so gratefully left. She would often try striking up some conversation, which was welcomed with an awkward but expected silence. He was never the talkative one. On numerous occasions, he was reprimanded by you for this same topic. So, in the past, he decided to stick with a one-liner — that sometimes brought him unnecessary attention — the dinner one. Your laugh would fill his ears as he told you about the multiple times where people thought he was flirting with them. If you were here, could he make you laugh like that again? Or would you be disgusted by the man he has become these last weeks?

Besides his own memory serving as the place where your face and mannerisms would replay all over again, where are you now? He once heard that a soul is destined to be reborn into a new life. Life is cyclical, the sun rises and sets, the day and night come, but they never meet. He wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a lilly now. The pureness in your heart resembled one of those delicate flowers that your eyes seemed to follow each time you passed through a flower shop. Or maybe you’re someone’s baby being born. Bringing happiness to a family that prayed all night long for a miracle to happen. 

His mind wandered through the blurry moments when he was young. Prayers and cries surrounding a well illuminated place where many statues were presented. He used to fear one specifically, but the gentle touch of his mom would pull him closer to it. In his memory, he looked up to see the person who gave him life, yet he was met with a diffuse image of her. He has long forgotten the looks of his mother. 

In those moments, he often wondered what heaven felt like. He grasps on the last string of memories he had with his parents. How his mother would pull him to her lap and read to him. “Our God loves us so much that he has granted us a place to go when the time is right,” she would say, the term of death was so foreign to his little self but once again he remembers those prayers and promises. Is heaven the clear sky and peaceful home the Bible describes? Or is it a nonexistent place that Christians invented to cope with the fact that a loved one is no longer with them? He hopes it’s the first one since he wants to indulge in that little wish of him — that at least in the afterlife — you found peace. 

How is heaven? He wanted to ask you. Conversations with you used to flow so easily, so right. So, when the time comes he expects to hear every little rambling about your early trip to this called “everlasting paradise”. Is it raining right now? You loved rainy days, since it meant that both of you could cuddle while watching a movie. Or is it snowing since it’s Christmas?  He could almost hear you, your voice echoing in the deepest places of his mind telling him to stop trying to open the gifts. You were supposed to be next to him right now, waiting for Christmas to come.

He is in denial, two weeks ago he had you safely tucked in his arms, already planning what to do on Christmas. He still had your gift somewhere, hidden from your prying eyes even though you kept scolding him for that. Both of you were soulmates, two sides of the same coin. 

Now, he only had the ghost of you haunting him. Mocking him for not being able to protect you. He was hyper aware of every little detail his apartment provided. From the way he hasn’t moved your used mug on the dishwasher, because he feels that it was the last thing your lips touched. A bittersweet memory of your existence in this cruel world, to your book that you didn’t finish. You kept telling him that you were dying to know the ending but you couldn’t finish it before it was too late. If he reads it and prays to God, would he be generous enough to tell you the ending? 

He wouldn’t.

Every night he prayed to God, begged him to switch places with you even though it was an unrealistic thing to ask. But that’s what he wants right now. “It should’ve been me.” But that wish never becomes a reality. He wakes up, night after night, being him and being alone. God doesn’t hear him, he believes that this made up character just blatantly hates him. The forgiving, the loving and almighty God as his followers describe him, just doesn’t match up with his own criteria. A loving God wouldn’t have taken away his only reason to live.

The content in his Jack Daniel’s now does little to numb the pain he was feeling. With a sigh, he drank a bit more, straight from the bottle as the burning sensation traveled from his tongue to his throat. If he drinks enough until he passes out, he could imagine you. Moving across the kitchen with agile steps as you cook his favorite food.

Those moments were the ones he thinks he should've embraced more. Your quirks and habits. How you usually left traces of yourself in his apartment. How you always missed a spot when cleaning the counter and how you always kissed his forehead when placing the plate down on the table. 

Now, it's a bitter reminder of his own loneliness. His eyebrows twitched as the Christmas carols seemed to get louder. The clock reads 11:50 pm, ten minutes to Christmas. Even with the thick snow, the chants of kids being too stubborn to fall asleep were loud enough to fill Leon's ears. He hates living in this neighborhood filled with happy families.

You had a wide and warm smile when you showed Leon this same apartment he's currently rotting in. “It will be perfect once we have a family,” he remembers word by word what you said and he also remembers how you stumbled on your words once you saw the quizzical look he gave you. “I mean we could just have a dog or a cat if you want that. After all, family is where you are.”

Always the damn perfect partner. Always the stupid understanding other half. Why the hell did you even appear in his life if you were gonna die? Everyone else mourned your death but now they are moving on, yet Leon is staying in a never ending loop. Was it your plan? Are you fucking happy in heaven?

For once, he feels all the anger he’s been bottling up. His fists clenched as his breaths grew heavier. He throws the bottle against the wall. The contents spilling all over the floor as the bottle shattered in multiple pieces. He stared at the mess he’s done. His shaking hands grabbed handfuls of his own hair as he tried his best to compose himself. His mind repeating that you would be disappointed over and over again. 

Icy blue eyes started to get clouded by tears he refused to let go. The palm of his hand almost bled by his own nails digging into the thin skin. The regrets and what ifs were the perfect combination for Leon’s wish of dying albeit the fact of his own self deprecating being who believed he deserved to live this hell of a life alone. 

As he managed to keep his tears at bay for now, his eyes lingered on your designated seat at the table. You would always sit at his right, next to him, sometimes holding his hand, forcing him to eat his food with his left one. Now, his hand is cold without your touch. Which reminds him of your body and the last time he held you. Your heart no longer beat and your body was a freezing cruel realization of your death. 

“I was never good with emotions…” Leon’s voice came out as a groan. He had finally spoken after God knows how long. His own throat was constricted by the lump that was forming. He was denying himself the right to be raw, to be human. “You were the one who was better at everything… not me.” Leon swallows his own saliva, an attempt to stop the imminent lump. 

“I guess I was.” A melodic voice which was no more than a whisper filled Leon’s intoxicated ears. He looks at the empty seat next to him and sees nothing. It may be his own mind playing dirty tricks on him. Everything was blurred and dizzy from all the booze he had drunk. But nonetheless, he wouldn’t miss this opportunity, even if you were a creation of his own messed up mind. 

“I’ll take every little moment with me.” The voice was painfully comforting, a soothing lullaby to Leon’s broken beyond repair heart, a gentle breeze that surrounded his body. “The hugs, the kisses, our little trips to the beach and even the fights when none of us could go to bed without saying sorry.” 

A laugh as soft as a draft lingered in the air. The reality behind those words made Leon feel like he was going crazy. He blames the alcohol and the lack of social interactions for this moment. But your bubbly personality was unmistakable. That sweet and tooth- roothing laugh was — at least to Leon — proof that maybe, just maybe, God allowed him to grasp on you one last time.

Or maybe God allowed you to pay him a visit. Neither of you were religious people, but you were closer to heaven that he’ll ever be. So, maybe that pure and wholesome smile blinded God, and you escaped, true to your rebellious nature. Your death turned him into a sappy man. He has always loved you, but the tragic destiny you met made him see you in an even better light. 

“You know I loved you so much…” The voice turned sour and sad, so out of character for you. Well… if it’s you. Even in your last days, you tried to be that thoughtful partner, pushing away every worry out of his mind even though you were slowly withering away. The words slightly trembled, albeit the raw honesty that was being said. Silence set as if the owner of the voice was attempting not to cry. 

“So deeply…” The hushed voice seemed to get even quieter as the course of its words dug deeper in Leon’s heart making it bleed harder than ever. His hand itches to reach where he thinks you are, as if you could materialize from thin air and give him one last hug. One last farewell.

“Please, stop blaming yourself for this. This wasn’t your fault.” Yes, it was. Leon wanted to tell you that. You planted seeds of hope in his heart even when he felt the world was too corrupted to be home for someone as splendid as you. The sense of your living left him chasing footsteps and shadows in order to meet you again.

And as a moth to a flame, he followed you. The chemicals in his brain working overtime to hear the gentle ring of your voice as long as you keep talking. It doesn’t matter if this behavior could put him at a psych after. Talking with ghosts? That can’t happen, yet his love for you seems to break the rules between life and the realms of the afterlife.

“You weren’t supposed to go so soon…” Leon’s voice fills the dim room, engaging in conversation, the tears that he was previously fighting off were at the verge of falling from his eyes. But as a stubborn man, he wouldn’t show weakness and vulnerability, even in a moment like this. “I know nothing good lasts long in my life but —” a choke left his lips as the lump is now growing impossible to hold back. “What kind of twisted sin am I paying off? I can’t live a life without you, I simply can’t.”

“I wasn’t done with you, I wasn’t done with our life. I wanted to adopt that dog we saw at the shelter. Do you remember? I wanted to take you to Italy because you once told me you wanted to try a real pizza.” A shaky breath cuts off Leon’s speech before he continues, his slurred words stumbling one another as if he knew he was running out of time. “I wanted to grow old with you, I wanted to be the first person to notice the gray hair appearing in you. The first wrinkles in your face, which I’m sure would have looked amazing in you darling, you were always perfect. I wanted to help you stand up when your legs couldn’t carry the weight of your body. I wanted —”

“Leon.”

“I wanted to at least spend one last Christmas with you.”

He finishes off with one last wish. One last desire he had hid in his mind for a while now. He knew everything had ended, but right now, he wanted to hear you one last time. He wanted to hear an "I love you" from you.

And there it was… the last thing he wanted to hear. Nothing. 

As soon as the deadly silence filled the room again, uncontrollable tears streamed down his face. Leon bent forward, his forehead hitting against the hard material of the table, letting out all of his repressed emotions. In the midst of his despair and hatred, he cried not only for you and the fact that he failed to protect you. Each drop carried the weight of every life that was lost under his watch, each one of those bright eyed agents who were looking forward to working with him, and only found death in their paths.

What has he done wrong to deserve this terrible but inevitable outcome? He’s beyond tired, beyond hopeless. In his rage, he could only blame the world. 

God, why have you forsaken me? 

He stays there for a while, drowning in his own tears. As reality once again sets in. Deep down, he knew this would be the last time. The universe granted him (or cursed him) by allowing him to hear you one last time. Hear the tender tone of your voice calling his name like you used to do. And maybe he should take that with him just like you did. 

Everyone dies, so will he. There will be a time when God takes pity on him and allows him to meet you once again. Once the time comes and he's sent to the place where you are, he will tell you about the book’s ending. He will tell you about every mission he will get in the still unknown future. He will tell how much he missed you and how much he loved your presence, even if it was just the blink of an eye. He doesn’t know what else he will tell you, but he’s going to make sure to have a list before parting from this world — in a long, far future.

He had enjoyed meeting and being with you. And if somehow God gives him another chance, he would choose you over and over again.

The sweet carols have grown faint and not even the innocent chants of those children filled Leon’s empty and dark living room. It’s already christmas.