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armoredtitanmistress · 6 months

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𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙦𝙪𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 | ᴛᴏᴊɪ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ| first times (18+ MDNI)

pairings: toji fushiguro x gojo!reader, toji zenin x gojo!reader

summary: the first time you were close enough to see the stars.

tags/genre: toji x gojo!reader, gojo’s older sister, pre-star plasma vessel arc/star plasma vessel arc, Shiu Kong cameo, suggestive language (thanks to Toji, of course), explicit language, SMUT (if that makes you uncomfortable please do not read this), symbolism (?), satoru being a little brat (are we surprised?), sibling bonding, strangers to friends to ?, fluff, 2nd person point of view, the first person point of view switches are intentional!

warnings: 8.5k word count, rated M (18+) for language and sexual scenes, male masturbation, allusion to female masturbation, vaginal sex, male dom, fem sub, virginity kink (if you squint), praise kink, breath play, brat themes (barely), handjob (fingering), oral (fem rec.), teasing (this is toji were are talking about), sweet talk, dirty talk, pet names (doll and pretty girl are the extent of it), semi-edging, missionary, safe-sex (they used a condom), titty sucking.

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Your first time was in the garden underneath the blazing lights of the stars and the judgmental gaze of the moon with the man you loved most.

That’s how you retold it to me when I became a teenager and told you I was interested in dating. You stretched the importance of communication in a relationship. Your exact words were, “Make sure they know it’s a relationship! A lot of people assume things! Oh, and use protection!”

But that wasn’t the truth. At least, not the way that Yuki told me about it.

You lost it in a dingy apartment in Shinjuku with the night sky hardly peaking through the openings of the blinds. The man you lost it to, well, I can’t speak on that.

He was an impatiently patient man. He had texted you his address soon after your date and added a few suggestive words to truly hone in on his desire to see you again but under an unrestrained environment. He left it at that and let the waiting game begin. His mind was filled with the chances of winning but in a small subsection (that’s as much as he’d ever admit to a living soul) of all that, he questioned what you’d be doing in your part of your world.

He would be lying if he didn’t have you as a constant in his mind since that day; to be more specific, your body had been getting him hard at just the thought of it. The silhouette of your body in the dress alone would have left an impactful impression on him but the opportunity to see you nearly naked and have the images he had fantasized about be confirmed.

He envisioned you stuck in a circle of Elders dictating the state of their society and you idly listening in. They’d mention your role in their hierarchy as the face of the “New Era” and implant their belief systems into you through innuendos. You’d play the attentive archetype but secretly rather be in your garden or seeing that you enjoy spending time with your sibling, you’d think about taking Satoru to eat at his favorite place because who were you without trying to appease someone who wasn’t yourself?

He also foresaw that after all of your tasks, you’d decompress in your garden. You’d be trying to do your daily routine of inspecting for weeds and checking what didn’t and did need watering. In between that routine, you’d somehow get reminded of him while taking in his failed attempt of carving out a snake in one of the hedges due to his reckless craftsmanship. You’d stifle a smile but you and those petunias that circled the surrounding area knew that you found amusement in it and though in the moment you cursed him to hell for trying to create something so hideous you never urged him to fix it.

Afterward, you’d get frustrated thinking about him and believe that the frustration that needs to be released is through training. You’d have no one around to train with and take out your frustrations on the nearby trees surrounding the training ground. After attempting to release variations of Red and Blue on the trees you’d come to grow even more frustrated at your countless failed attempts at being able to use it continuously. So you’d switch the practice to something you were good at, fighting close range. This would need the help of a helpless punching bag and you’d try to exhaust all of your frustrations in a concoction of varying different punches and kicks.

You’d take a shower to wash away the incessant thoughts of his presence. Your hands would massage in the shampoo to provide relief but it would remind you of the times he’d brush through your hair to find a strand to tug on. A tug, just one tug. That’s what you’d start with when you tug on one of your white strands. It wouldn’t feel the same as when he’d do it and that notion would certainly irk you. You’d continue your routine of washing your body but you’d make the mistake of closing your eyes when you brushed over your pebbled nipples. Curiously you’d grope them with the image of his exposed body in the pond cemented into the forefront of your mind making it easy to imagine his hands instead of your own. The hand that wasn’t busy with your breast would wander down to give attention to your needy clit that had been giving you clues as to what the target of your frustration had been.

This is the scenario that Toji found himself jerking off to late at night in his bedroom after fighting the urge to take home a woman from the bar he had been at. He cursed you for this. If you hadn’t made the sole rule be not fucking anyone else, he’d be having his dick blown right now. You’d have no problem with that rule. That rule was a test and Toji was one boner away from breaking it.

It was pathetic how he was holding out for someone who he hadn’t even felt yet.

It had been a few days since he had last seen you and his body was not reacting to it well. He thought you would’ve been crawling to him by now. He pumped his shaft faster in frustration that the scenario he had imagined wasn’t even a probability for you. You had gone your whole life without sex, what would be a couple of days, weeks, or months added on of not experiencing it?

He let out a few pumps before he came and let his other arm fall over his eyes while he tried to even out his breath. The pleasure that should’ve come along with it was nonexistent. Instead, he made the mistake of letting his mind flash an image of you again.

He would spend the rest of his night restless and sore.

The next day he had to clear his mind through means that keep him sane.

There he was in a gambling pub in Shinjuku trying to make use of his money by trying to expand on it. It was also his unhealthy way of killing time as he anticipated your call. His gambling feats were enough to forget about all the other times he had lost money. He had placed his bet for the horse race that was the gamble of the day and ordered himself some takoyaki. The pub was situated on the outskirts of Shinjuku and was a hole-in-the-wall place. The pub was littered with all walks of life – a salaryman that is using gambling as a salvation, a group of construction workers who were there for lunch and had bet the lowest amount possible as they treated it as a game, a pair of middle-aged men that didn’t want to go home to their wife and kids, and then the majority were questionable characters that were stereotypical to the environment.

If Toji were to choose between the aforementioned list he would say he was a mix of them all. This information was based on observation and had a high possibility of it all being false but Toji didn’t plan on finding out. No, he is going to take his profiling as gospel and allow himself to be right. They were the least of his worries after all. The horse he bet on was advancing and the money he put in looked like a sure win.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the pub open and knew from the suit and the stench of cigarettes that approached him who it was. Sipping on his fountain drink of choice, he huffs out a laugh and announces, “Was under the impression you were embarrassed by me, Shiu. You always restrict our meetings to over the phone so what’s with the sudden appearance?”

Shiu Kong, a 24-year-old Korean national and former detective somehow found himself in Japan as a handler for mercenaries. Toji met him at a pub similar to the one they were in 2 years ago but not by coincidence. Shiu had seen him a few times before approaching him but observing him get into a bar fight and his blatant disregard for others made him approach him with the offer of becoming a mercenary.

“Unfortunately, you’re hard to miss.” The man lamented referring to the window that was directly in front of him and the man’s large silhouette. He walked closer to the table and spectated the horse race that was projected on the screen and made his bet with himself that Toji would lose. The gamble was that if Toji lost he’d reward himself another pack of parliaments and if he won he’d quit smoking.

“Plenty embarrassed of you but I just happened to be in the area and saw you through the window. Decided to cut out the middleman and fill you in on the job in person.” He explained while he searched one of his pockets for a staple of his image, a cigarette, and a lighter. Digging out both he exhaled, “Might find some entertainment watching you blow a shit load of cash in one go.”

“You’re wasting your time. I might not even bother with the job after I win this one. Bet 8 million on that Bronco and heard from one of the guys here that he’s a sure win.” Toji assured, offhandedly directing his chopsticks toward a sleazy-looking bald man across the pub.

“Yeah?” he asked in disbelief as he pulled out a seat next to his delusional client, “Should you be taking advice from a man who’s betting against you?”

No, he shouldn’t but he could always leave the man a generous message if he did decide to play dirty. Regardless if the man had “reassured” him that his bet was solid, Toji felt confident in his bet. He contributed his confidence to the outlook of his week. He was hoping that the biggest star in the sky was as much in favor of him as it had been on that date. Again, your image manifested in his mind causing him to try to remain neutral and adjust himself discreetly under the table.

He returned his gaze to the TV while he was picking up his set of chopsticks when he saw the announcement that his horse had lost. Out of frustration, he had cracked them with the emotion that had manifested in the force he held them in. He stood up from his seat and scoured the pub for the man with his eyes. He focused his eyes on where had been earlier and saw only the food he had been eating left.

“Coward”, he mumbled as he plopped himself back on the stool and pulled out another set of chopsticks from the canister on the table, he grumbled, “How much is it and when do I have to do it?”

Puffing out the smoke, he taunted thoroughly amused with how the situation worked out for him, “Trying to make another quick buck after this? Employers are going to start paying you a salary with how frequently you are asking for jobs.”

“If it’s anything short of a million they can shove that salary offer up their ass. I have to force you to negotiate to even get half the amount the jobs are worth.” He swallowed and drank from the fountain drink that he had refilled multiple times with no plans of paying the refill fee. His most recent job payout was a rare one, usually, the payout for his jobs is between 10-50k. The employers never understood the value or cost of a life. Why would they? If they were never the ones doing it. Rich people had money to blow but not the faintest idea what it’s worth was.

Pulling a seat next to the enormous man, he lets a chuckle escape, “God forbid, a 22-year-old survives on a million a month. Your gambling is going to leave you on the street eventually and don’t expect as your handler I’m going to offer you my house to crash at.”

Plopping another takoyaki ball in his mouth as he watched the horse he betted on in the lead, he jauntily answered, “As long as the jobs roll in we are both in the clear of that ever happening.”

Call Toji any negative adjective (trust, I have some of my own) but he was diligent with his work. He was the highest mercenary in demand in all of Japan with how efficient he was with his commissions. Employers appreciated that all he asked was the lump sum and the general details of the job. Morals were not a driving force in any particular aspect of being a mercenary, at least that’s how Toji perceived his career path.

Shiu nodded and vaguely detailed, “All these people want is for it to be done by the end of the month.”

While Shiu began to debrief him vaguely on the job, Toji felt a beep in the pocket of his jeans. His contact list consisted of the man in front of him and the woman he had eagerly anticipated to be inside of. He could’ve groaned out of relief at this revelation. From briefly listening in on the job description, it seemed like a pretty standard job.

Finishing the last sips of his drink and chewing on the last ball of takoyaki, he grunted as he stood up from his seat, “Got it. Forward me the details in a text or something.”

“You’ve been in a rush the past couple of days, Zenin. What other unhealthy habit of yours have you been indulging in?” He asked to take a draw from his cigarette while stuffing one of his hands in his pocket. With how long they’ve known each other, he’s hardly ever seen him rushing to places. Toji lived on the ideology that he had all the time in the world and he didn’t care much for how he spent it. Now comparing this ideology with how he had been acting lately, the former detective’s interest had peaked.

“Nothing that you would care about.” He replied as he put on his jacket. He threw some cash on the table and patted his handlers back as he made his way out of the pub.

“Thanks for that restaurant recommendation, by the way.”

Shiu watched as his associate walked through the doors of the establishment and smirked to himself. Getting up from his seat and throwing away the trash Toji had left behind he makes his way to a nearby smoke shop with his head held high and mentally thanking him for his misgivings.

No, thank you, Shiu thought as he handed the cashier his money.

———————————————————-----------------------------------------------------------------

Weeds are grown out.

[image attached]

The text alongside him reaching the garden to see you fully clothed, in baggy jeans and an even bigger knit sweater with an annoyingly yellow garden apron on top of it all with that brat of a brother beside you, well, color his disappointment.

Irony befell him as he found himself going back to his old routine of trying to go unnoticed by you guys. He must’ve been rusty because it didn’t take long for your blue eyes to find his hiding spot. You nodded your head in acknowledgment before turning your attention back to the miniature version of you that was inches away from terrorizing a flower. If he hadn’t known he was your brother, he could have passed off Satoru as your son.

You slapped his wrist away causing him to yelp in pain and sheepishly grin at being caught. You looked at him unamused and demonstrated how to properly pluck a flower.

“You are too rough on such delicate organisms, ‘Toru. You have to treat them with care and love–” He brought his hands up mimicking your speech and guessed the next words you were going to say, “Because they feel it too blah blah blah.”

He stared boredly at how you plucked the flower from the stem rather than from the root and didn’t notice how your method was any better than his.

“Feel stuff, my butt. Why care for something so weak? They don’t even do anything.” You heard him mutter and were growing irritated at his attitude. Normally, you’d hear complaints about his attitude from his retainer and any other unlucky person who crossed his path. You’d reprimand him but his behavior never was bad when he was with you. He’d be whiny and pouty but that was the extent of it. This was unusual.

“Why do you care for the teddy bear that I gifted you? Why do you care for the toys that you play with?” You asked, placing the flower you had plucked in the pocket of your apron.

He answered as if it were obvious, “Because you got them for me.”

“But they don’t do anything, so what value do they bring you? You wouldn’t care if I threw them away, right?”

“I wouldn’t care. You could buy me new ones.” This kid was audacious as he stared up at you with the cheekiest grin.

This kid knew his strengths and Toji could applaud you for resisting the urge to enforce corporal punishment.

You scoffed, “I would? What gave you that idea?”

Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist and snuggled into the embrace he had created. “Look at this face! You can’t say no to this!” He cooed, shining his eyes to yours that dulled in comparison.

You shook your head with a laugh, warming up to his antics, before creating some distance. You plucked two flowers out from nearby; hyssop and heliotrope.

Crouching down to his height, you explained, “You don’t know the meaning now but I hope once you find this interesting enough that one day you’ll understand.” You threaded the flowers in the crevice behind his ear, brushing a few strands of hair out of the way to properly display them.

Smiling at your work, you confessed, “You are annoyingly cute and sometimes I wish you didn’t know that but that’s not why I buy you those things.”

Pointing to the flowers behind his ear you said, “Those flowers are important because they have meaning.”

“Huh?” Your brother's face contorted in visual confusion, unable to grasp the point you were trying to make.

“Satoru means “to know.” Your name has meaning and lets people know how to address you. It reveals to people the kind of person you are from that alone. It’s what makes you a person.” You recall fondly on the day you were given the honor to name him. Your parents were so preoccupied with the revelation of birthing a user of the Six Eyes that they had forgotten to give him a name. The responsibility then had been passed to you. His birth came before you had thought of baby names for your hypothetical future child but keeping in line with your unoriginality Satoru was the first name to come to mind.

“These flowers may look weak based on appearance but many hold toxic properties that could kill something based on impact or consumption. Assuming that something is weak makes you the weak one in a situation and inevitably leaves you at a greater disadvantage. It could lead to your death.” You explained as you pointed to a patch of lantana, bitter nightshade, and mountain laurel; flowers with beautiful exteriors but poisonous compositions.

Satoru groaned but made no effort to take out the flowers you’d given him, “If I wanted a life lesson, I would’ve stayed with Yoichi.”

Being compared to his retainer made you recoil. You hadn’t meant to turn a sibling bonding day into a day of lectures. The world after the ignorant closings of childhood is nothing but continuous put-to-use life lessons. You’d rather give him insight into his destiny as the strongest than further inflate the propagated ego that the masses had given the boy that convinced him that he was invincible.

“You are welcome to go back to him if this bores you so much.” You are met with silence and that only elicits a sigh from you. You announced, “Let’s call it a day. I have some matters to attend to and Yoichi is most likely searching for you.”

In truth Satoru wasn’t bored, he just wanted you to spend time with him. Without the lessons, without being at home, and without anything or anyone else to worry about. You were his moral compass and anything you’d say he’d follow. His attitude was directed toward the retainer he had been trying to dodge all day

Satoru’s voice called out behind you, “It’s not boring! Tell me about those! They look kinda funky, what do they mean?”

You turned around to see him pointing at a patch of weeds. You giggled walking over to him and ruffling his hair, “Those are called weeds and they mean that I need to pluck them out in order for the other flowers to stay alive.”

“Can I help you with that one day?” He asked, unknowingly robbing Toji of his side hustle.

“Of course.” You smiled when you leaned down to place a kiss on his head, “You can go ahead of me. I’ll see you later.”

“Be nice to Yoichi!”

“I’m always nice!” He stuck his tongue out as he ran off passing the tree Toji had been hiding behind. He walked out once the kid was outside of earshot and made his way to an expectant you.

“To what do I owe the displeasure, Zenin?” You asked, patting your hands onto your apron.

Gesturing his head to the fading body of your body, he confronts, “Was here to clock in but instead saw you interviewing someone for my job. Did I mention that I work better alone?”

You laughed, “Guessing that I was interviewing for a new worker rather than a replacement is audacious. I’ve been giving you warnings about how you handled my hedges and you never seem to listen.”

“I express artistic freedom.” He shrugged, “What do they say? Art is in the eye of the beholder.”

You chuckled then teased.“As I’ve said time and time again, you need better eyes.”

Walking up the array of hedges that had been brutalized by Toji’s craftsmanship, you inquire, “Alright, what is this one supposed to be?”

What you had been pointing to were two hedges that you had thought looked like either a yin and yang figure or– actually, no that was your only guess. None of his pieces have ever looked easy to understand. You suppose he could make the argument that’s the point of art so instead of voicing that you let it remain a thought.

“Obviously that’s supposed to be a lion fighting a tiger.” He claimed with certainty.

You raised a brow, “They have stories?”

You didn’t think Toji had the capability to be creative or thoughtful. His life was based on thoughtless behavior, it was the basis of your friendship. Sure, the portrayal he was going for was violent but the thought did render you temporarily speechless. Thinking about it more, what kind of hobbies did Toji have? What kind of things does he like? Does he listen to music?

“You’ve said it yourself. Everything has meaning. Isn’t that what you were trying to tell that brat?” If you had been familiar with his bashful tells, you would’ve noticed how he refused to make eye contact with you when he answered and the tips of his ears went red.

“By the way, if that’s how you talk during sex too I might have to rethink our deal. Unless you're moaning during it then by all means continue.” He mocked, naturally reminding you of the agreement you had made almost a week ago that had been constantly replaying in your mind.

You rolled your eyes, feeling the incessant jabs at you today to be unfair, “You’d be able to get those sounds from me? I’d like to see you try.”

His hands found their respective places at each side of your waist, pulling your ass into the outline of his hardened member as he breathed into the shell of your ear, “You could find out. We still haven’t put the point of this deal to trial yet.”

“You’re vetoing my analogies during sex but that proves otherwise.” You rebuke, restraining the noise that wanted to come out from the impact. Remaining in his hold any longer, you would have let him take you right then and there. When you did get out of his touch, you heard him groan and felt the effects of it go straight to your core.

“I also remember mentioning that I don’t plan on losing it in the garden.” You calmly remind, trying hard to deny the throb in between your legs.

“I haven’t fucked anyone in a week. I’ve been maintaining my end of the deal. It’s now your turn to maintain yours. I was under the impression that you’d be one of the better pussy I’ve been in.” He said in annoyance, growing tired of your game.

You didn’t necessarily have any proof to prove that he had been lying but you also had no proof that he had been telling the truth. You shrugged, not understanding how that had anything to do with you, “Whether I am or not, that’ll be up to you to decide.”

“Yeah, and when is that gonna be? It’s been nearly a week, doll. My patience is running out.”

And it truly was. After jerking off to an imaginary scenario and sporting one to the thought of you, he could only endure so much. An ironic predicament for a man who has a Heavenly Pact that enhances his senses and his physical strength.

It must be your Gojo instincts because you felt pleasure in having something over the outcasted Zenin.

“Tomorrow. I’ll give myself to you tomorrow.” You stated, making it seem like a less than thought out decision when in actuality you had this decided from the moment you had sent that text.

“In the meantime, if you want to keep your job.” You handed him the hedge clippers, “Fix my hedges."

The rest of the time, it was a comfortable quiet with the noise of your collective pensive with the thoughts of tomorrow above all else.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The address in his text led you to a wear-for-tear apartment complex on the outskirts of Tokyo nearing Shinjuku. It was enveloped with nearby liquor stores, gambling pubs, drunkards, and arguing couples. It worried your driver to leave you alone in such a place so much that he had asked to wait for you out of concern for your safety but you waved him off without a second thought. The excuse you had used was that you were meeting up with an old colleague on work matters. He had been hesitant but he obeyed and drove off leaving you in front of the disarray. The environment is very well aligned with where you had imagined Toji would live. Given the amount of money that Toji was given in his jobs, he must’ve spent it all on a continuous streak of failed gambling bets and couldn’t afford to pay rent in a better place. You couldn’t even imagine the structure or the furniture he had in his apartment. You felt that it could have been the affluent possessions or black-and-white essentials.

You let those thoughts linger as you made your way up the flight of stairs to his apartment. Each step was louder and more concerning than the last. The noise of cars passing by and various sirens were heard clearly throughout the motel-style infrastructure of the apartment.

When you arrived at his door, you felt the reality of the situation sink in. Your virginity wasn’t something sacred to you. As a teenager, you weren’t interested in any guy that much to want to lose it to them. You wished you had caved and just lost it to one of the many guys Yuki had sent your way. Due to your high standards, you’ve landed yourself in a situation that was more than you bargained for. You’re stuck with the option of Toji Zenin, the embodiment of sex.

You let your knuckles graze the door believing if you left them there for a while it would give you the courage to knock. The meandering thoughts were pushed aside once you lifted your knuckles to knock and felt your stomach twisted up into knots. You vaguely heard thuds and things opening and closing from the interior and felt the knots in your stomach tighten.

He opened the door with relatively the same image that you had engraved in your mind; nothing but a towel around his neck and low hanging plaid red and black pajama pants that visibly displayed his defined v-line. Your blue eyes knew not to linger and went to search for his but found them fixated on your mouth. You’d have to address that habit of his eventually. You took that as your cue to speak.

“H-Hey.”

Pathetic, you thought to yourself. It had only been a few hours ago that you held the power in the situation. Seeing a preview and what you’d be seeing soon, you forfeited any semblance of power that you had left. Pushing your way through the door, you reiterate, “Where’s your bedroom?”

Entering his apartment, your suspicions of what it would look like were semi-confirmed. There were no luxurious items but it was filled with household essentials like a couch and TV. It was also barren of any personality aside from a bar cart that had looked to be untouched.

“Straight to the point? I appreciate taking into account how cruel you’ve been towards me.” He grinned at your flustered state.

“Shut up, asshat. I just want to get this over with.” You barked back, walking aimlessly in his apartment aiming to find the door that led to his bedroom.

“It’s the first door to the left. You can wait there for me. I’ll be out soon” He called out as he made his way back into the bathroom to continue his night routine that you undoubtedly disrupted.

You entered the bedroom and were surprised to find that it was cleaner than you had imagined it to be. Much like the living room, it only held the essential furniture needed to distinguish its purpose. After assessing the room for what it was, you situated yourself on the bed with your hands gripping the skirt of your kimono.

“You still have your clothes on?” You could hear the disappointment from his voice and as you turned to see him his face matched the tone of his voice. His body leaned against the doorframe, his appearance the same as it had been when he had opened the door.

You groaned, “At least try to pretend to not be disappointed.”

“You preach that speaking the truth is important to your brother but when I do it you draw the line.” He said, referring to the day you had acknowledged his existence for the first time. He sits next to you, leaving a good distance in between, but the scent of his shampoo is so intoxicating that he might as well have been millimeters away.

“For someone who partakes in sex as often as you do, you should know that talking about relatives beforehand is a serious turn-off and not a form of sex talk.” You chastised with no merit to your words.

He looked thoroughly unimpressed by your comment and rebuked it, “We haven’t even started and you’re already questioning my skills.”

The foundation of your knowledge of sex came from sources like porn and Yuki that were classified as the same; dramatized and romanticized. Another source was Toji but the thought of him having been with other women doesn’t entirely sit right with you at the moment.

“So how do you do this?” You asked, not entirely aware of how to initiate it.

He loathed verbal communication if it wasn’t necessary. He was a firm believer that people can understand from physical cues alone. Therefore, he used his movements as a response. One of his hands maneuvers its way to the small of your waist, pulling you to where your knees touch. Having you secured where he wanted you, he reached his vacant hand to cup the underside of your jaw and licked his lips before consuming yours. Similarly to the first kiss you shared at the park, it was short and sweet. He pulled away before you could even reciprocate finding your lips searching for him.

He smirked and guided, “We’ll start with this and then we can work your way up to it.”

Your lips hovering his and the scent of your strawberry chapstick lingering was not going to do it, he had to taste them again. So he did, working his mouth against yours and licking away the temptation of the strawberry chapstick. Unlike the first time, you had managed to catch on faster. You situated your hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself but still felt unsteady. It wasn’t until you threaded your fingers into his hair that you felt secure.

He tugged on your lower lip to gain access but you weren’t one to back down easily. You weren’t the first to deny him and he had learned how to bypass brats like you. With his hand that had still been on the small of your back, he moved it lower to give your ass a quick tap causing you to gasp and for his tongue to claim your mouth.

Trying to win a battle of strength with Toji was a pathetic effort and after what felt like forever but was only a few seconds, you had given up on trying to win.

“What am I supposed to do?” You whispered in earnest but the delicacy in your voice had translated in his head to something sensual in his ear. He withheld the groan that was threatening to leave his throat and opted to busy himself by placing one of his palms on the underside of your jaw to have you facing him as he brushed pieces of hair from your face.

He brushed his lips over your own as he spoke breathlessly, “You don’t gotta do anything, doll.”

He kissed you one final time before descending towards the valley on your neck and collarbones. His impatience waned with each descending kiss he’d leave on your body. Some parts earn attention while other parts yearn for it. The marks he left left him satisfied until he encountered the hemline of your kimono blocking the visage of your breast.

“Sit up.” He instructed, helping guide you up while also loosening the obi from your waist in the process allowing your body to be exposed for him to see.

He had been complaining about you essentially blue balling him for over a week but he had no intention of having you work. Not tonight. Tonight was all about you and he was going to let you know that.

Understanding what he was trying to do, you attempted to cover yourself with the fabric with your face flushing in the process. However, your attempt to fall lackluster in execution with your breast is now enhanced by your crossed arms.

“Don’t just stare.” You muttered, suddenly feeling small – a feeling that did not come naturally to you.

“You’re just s’pretty. Hard not to.” The effects of his praise manifested differently, your upper half illuminating your cheeks in bright pink while the lower half hiding in your core.

Your pose and your expression had him experience a sexual high he had never been able to achieve with any other woman. A sculptor like Brancusi could feel,see, and anatomically understand your body but he could never be able to sculpt it in a manner that remained faithful to your essence.

He took hold of your clothes and tossed them in the same direction he had your panties. You were fully bare but unlike earlier, you felt a surge of confidence at his dark green eyes morphing away from its former greed hue.

“Come on, now’s not the time to get shy with me.” He laughed before latching his mouth onto your breast bringing out a moan that had yet to be released from you. His tongue lapped, swirled, and tugged on your nipple with expertise while his other hand replicated his tongue's movement effortlessly. You tried covering your mouth in an attempt to muffle the noises that were fighting to come out but Toji took quick notice and moved it to situate back into his terrain of hair..

“I wanna hear those sweet noises of yours, doll. Let them out. You can try covering up how I’m making you feel but I know.” He urged you on before taking the hand that had been toying with your nipple and using one of his fingers to hook onto your panties and move them aside to rub across your slit and in doing so pick up how wet you had become from just from touch. Your lips were sealed shut but your hips bucked against his touch, trying to catch the sensation again.

Slipping his fingers inside his mouth to suck up you up. He stuck his tongue out to give you a visual of his tongue churning on his finger. Pleased by your reaction, he kissed your lips in reward for your submission, permitting you to taste yourself. He mumbles in between kisses, “Your body makes it so obvious for me.”

“Do something.” You uttered between battered breaths.

He lowered himself between your thighs and raised your legs to rest on either side of his shoulder after he had skillfully taken off your panties in the process, tossing them aside without haste. Coming in contact with your pussy, he breathed haughtily against your folds. You had to have the prettiest pussy he had ever seen. It was dripping and anxiously awaiting his touch but he had to contain himself.

“Demanding me? To do what exactly?” He used his breath to an advantage, drawing in and out of the vicinity of your pussy but never too close or too far. His antics are the source of the shiver that overtook your body.

“Touch me.” You said in an obvious tone.

“Where? Here?” He asked coyly, grazing his tongue throughout your inner thigh barely reaching the meeting point of your thigh and your vagina. Deciding to be generous, he presses a kiss onto your swollen clit. You could’ve slapped yourself with the whimper you had let out.

You gritted out in between moans, knowing what he was doing, “Fuck you know where shit, you are such an asshole.”

He rolled his eyes at the nickname but decided that since it was your first time he should save the edging for another day.

Without warning, you feel a slow swirl on your clit before he commits to seeking refuge with his lips. He ate you out as if you contained ambrosia and the only way to fully attain it was by ruining you.

“You’ve got such a pretty clit, doll. Looks so cute and swollen.” He teased as he swirled a finger over it before giving it a little tug. You glanced down to see his hungry eyes drawn to your panting and moaning figure. You quickly looked away and he retracted his fingers from your clit at the same time. You whined out at the loss.

“Eyes on me.”

You couldn’t find yourself to disobey.

“Want you to remember this.” You heard him whisper in between sucks as he descended again. Occasionally he would groan into your cunt shocking you closer to an orgasm. The bed sheets weren’t even a contender for places to latch on. Your eyes were only on Toji. It was an automatic response to thread your fingers through his hair and guide his head closer to you.

His name is left broken on your lips while your orgasm is on his. He gave you a second to compose yourself before asking, “Think you can handle more?”

More? Before you could ask, you had your words caught in your throat.

“All that from just my mouth.” He lapped up everything that had been seeping out of you. “Need to prep you before you take the whole thing. Wanna see how much you can take when I add one in.” He murmurs to himself more than to you.

“Inflating your ego during sex, you’re such- fuck Toji!” You cut yourself off at his finger slotting inside your cunt without any resistance or warning.

“So loose. I’m sure you can take one more.” He mumbled against your ear.

He pumped in and out while his mouth met yours allowing you to taste yourself. Originally the thought had repulsed you but with the assaults on your cunt and an impending second orgasm, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The kiss was sloppy. You would break away each time his fingers hit the right spot.

Toji was right. Sex was a stress reliever. You couldn’t think of the documents on your desk that you needed to sign, missions that you had lined up for the week, or the brunch your mother had asked you to attend. That damn brunch was the least of your concerns. None of that mattered, not with how his fingers were slamming in and out of you at an inhuman pace that no other man could achieve.

You felt that you were close but so did he. His lips left yours at the same time his fingers did and you anxiously anticipated their return but they never came. You turned to face him but noticed him get up off the bed.

“Why’d you stop?” You asked panting, lifting yourself using your elbows. Had you done something wrong? Before you could ask, he lifted a hand signaling you to remain still.

“Like I said, I was prepping you. Want you to cum on something else.” He informed, swiftly removing his remaining clothes leaving him fully nude.

Your imagination didn’t do it justice. At this point, nothing you had envisioned this to go to had been beyond your comprehension. That night at the pond was proving to be a preview. You had no dicks for reference to go off but based on the assumption you knew he was beyond average in girth and length. It had to be his Heavenly Pact at work because no normal human would be able to have been blessed like that.

“Are you ready? We can stop.” He asked with a kindness you had never thought was possible from a mercenary. His eyes remind you of an exploding nebula. You had never seen that sort of emotion from him in all your years of knowing him.

Momentarily shocked you stared gapingly at him and you shook your head.

“I want you.” You softly whispered, though it had sounded different in your head.Not given enough time to backtrack on the implications, your body had already been lifted and settled onto a few pillows with your back against the headboard of his bed.

Those were the words he imagined you saying when he’d touch himself to the thought of you. When he needed something to get him off while he was with a woman who wasn’t doing it for him.

Staring at your figure, you were stunning. Pieces of your white hair sticking to your body due to the sweat that could mimic a blizzard. Your boobs moving to an unsteady and erratic rhythm, Your thighs rubbing against each other to release tension, Then those eyes of yours that might as well have been the six-eyes with how alluring they were, tempting him to dare to ruin you, taint you, take you.

“What.” You mumble, suddenly the confidence you had felt earlier converting into self-conscious.

He places his thighs on either side of your legs, hovering over you before closing in on your face. “Been waiting years for you to admit that. Give me some time to soak it in.” He breathes, stealing another breathtaking kiss.

“I’m here now. Do what you want.” Your words draw out when he departs from the kiss.

He shook his head while he fluttered his lips against your jaw, “You’re not ready for what I want. You’d fall right apart.”

Your left arm latched onto his shoulder to keep him close and hummed at his words.

“Try me.”

You felt the chuckle he let out on your collarbone, “You don’t ride a stallion without riding a mule first.”

“You do if you dare to try.”

He stopped his advances and again laughed at your audacity before snaking a hand behind you to give your ass a playful tap.

“Offering to ride me? I’m sure you could but that’s gonna have to be another day.” He promised and you were inclined to believe without any further information.

You weren’t thinking. You couldn’t think knowing that his dick was so close but so far away. That you were about to lose it to Toji, the man who has been in your life for as long as you’ve been sentient.

He must’ve sensed your nerves because he smiled–not one of those condescending Zenin smiles– but a smile that was unique to Toji.

“I got you.” He assured you with words but his green eyes were the first thing to register in your mind.

He reached to the side of his nightstand and unwrapped the condom wrapper. He saw you watching with curious eyes.

“Wanna put it on?” He asked and you could only nod as he handed over to you.

It seemed pretty straightforward. All you had to do was slip it on him. As you were about to make contact with his dick was when you realized what you were doing but let the thoughts die out. As you slipped it on fully, you let your fingers graze the part of his dick that wasn’t covered by the condom out of curiosity. His hand caught your wrist and you thought you did something wrong.

“Not today.” He tried to remain assertive but his wavering voice begged to differ. However, you didn’t notice.

“I’m going to put it in.” He said and you nodded. When he did you could only describe the sensation as foreign – more foreign than a kiss but not unwelcome— and you felt that you’d never hold leverage over him again.

This was too intimate. He was handling you with the care of a flower. Ironic, given how he went about tending your garden. You had hardly been allowed to do anything because he wouldn’t let you. He was partly in, with a little more than half of his dick inside of you, inching in slowly so as to not overwhelm you.

“You can move.”

“With pleasure.” He started off slow like he did when he first put it in – in the haze of your impatience you’d consider it a snail's pace– however, the way he rolled his hips into yours to make up for it. You observed as his eyes found a new fixation on his dick disappearing into your cunt. No matter how he tried to make up for it, you needed more and you were passed not wanting to beg.

“Faster, you can go faster.” You encouraged and he didn’t need to be told twice. He wrapped your legs around his waist and the angle immediately caused a knot to form in your stomach. The snail's pace was overtaken by a speed that you could compare to a jackrabbit. Your jaw lolled and began moaning and yelling profanities mixed in with his name that hazed out in your head to sound the same. It must’ve been a mantra because he joined in too.

“You’re doin’ so fuckin good, pretty girl. Takin’ it so well.” He praised before groaning out your name causing you to clench around him involuntarily.

“Fu-uck you’re killing me here, doll. How does it feel getting ruined by me.” He growled, drawing out of you before ramming back into your cunt. The crescendo of your bodies resonating through the walls.

“S’good! S’good!” He laughed at how gone you were. You were his dream incarnate. As he pushed into you, he let the thought of the long wait you put him through be worth it.

He kissed you, branding your hips with his hands and using the momentum to rut further into you, as he said, “Want to feel you cum. I know you got one more in ya, pretty.” In such a short amount of time, he had already memorized your body’s cues.

You gasped at the increase in pace and knew that you would be reaching the end soon.

“To-oh-ji! Toji! Toji! Fuuh-uck!” You had officially lost all sense. Your hips rutted into his, a failed attempt at matching his pace.

His mouth latched onto your boob, sucking harshing on your nipple, and occasionally biting onto it. Rather than giving your other boob the same attention, his other hand traveled into your valley and made a home abusing your clit that was pulsing from the overstimulation.

“I’m close.” You warned and his actions weren’t what unraveled you. It was his words.

Unlatching from your boob, he smirked against your lips, “You're there, baby. Let go.”

His blinds were closed all the way, not allowing a speck of light to permeate through the bedroom but you were seeing stars. You may have seen Cassiopeia amongst them all.

His mouth caught your moans but his pace didn’t relent just yet. His movements were not as precise as they had been, stuttering between strokes, and he had begun to be vocal. He was near his end and you had to repay him for his work by clenching around his dick and tugging at his hair.

He rammed into your cunt one final time before you felt his cum spurt inside you. This is by far the most he had cum in– no, he had never cum this much before. His body fell slack onto yours and for a while, all you felt was your chest beat in unison. He stayed inside you for a while and when he did eventually take it out, you felt your cunt clench on air at the loss.

He tossed the condom into the nearby trash can and let himself fall beside yours. It was awkward for a while but you knew that you needed to leave. You started to get up from the bed, preparing to find your clothes that had been scattered throughout the room, his hand lying on top.

Turning to face him, you saw his pose embodied a sculpture of Hercules to a tee– naked with his sheet draping over the parts you had met a few minutes prior.

“You don’t have to leave” If you didn’t know any better you could confuse his tone with his pleading.

“It’s already so late and my driver will definitely grow suspicious if I don’t return home tonight.”

“You had a driver bring you here?” He asked unimpressed. For someone as calculated as you, the rookie mistake of having a driver bring you here was laughable.

“How else would I get here? You didn’t necessarily offer me a ride.” You reminded him while you found your phone and texted your driver

“No but you did.” He smirked and you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Consider the offer off the table.” Though it was a threat, he found the pout etched on your face too cute to hold your threat at a value.

You made your way out of the apartment complex to see your driver waiting for you.

“I surmise the meeting went well.” Your driver asked as he opened the door for you.

Meeting? What meeting? Oh, that.

Clearing your throat, you ascertain, “I don’t believe those matters concern you.”

“R-Right, my apologies ma’am.” He stuttered out. Once you had entered the car, he dashed towards the driver's seat. You saw him stumble over his feet and wipe a few nervous sweat beads from his forehead before entering the car himself.

Your hand was hovering over the privacy divider button when he spoke again.

“Your mother asked me to remind you of the brunch you have tomorrow with your father.”

Your heart froze.

“Noted. Can we get going now? I’d like to wake up on time tomorrow.” You assumed he had replied after but could never know for certain because you had already drawn the divider up.

Staring out of the window you notice a light turned on inside of the apartment and a shadow briefly before it was overtaken by the bustling streets of Shinjuku.

It was odd to stare at the stars knowing how they felt for the first time.

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a/n: sorry for the two month break! honestly had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I've never written smut before so I hope I was able to do the genre and toji justice. Also, after seeing Toji in the anime recently (do not speak to me about the Megumi scene or I will cry) felt like I missed writing about my man.

italicized references:

cassiopeia: a queen in ancient Greek mythology and constellation.

hyssop and heliotrope: flowers

tag list:

@cococola-cocaine @justtnat @softvgold @missroro

comment to let me know if you want to join the tag list for future updates!

make sure to reblog, like, and comment! they really help me know what you guys like and don't like!

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helenlvsbooks · 3 months

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• Elain Archeron as High Lady of the Dusk Court •

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR ALL OF ACOTAR AND HOFAS

DISCLAIMER: This is a pro Elain, pro Elriel theory, if you know this is something that will upset you, scroll and don’t interact with my post. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.

This is a post made with love and appreciation for Elain Archeron and all of my beautiful elriels, you guys are the intended audience for this post and I hope you guys enjoy it, as much I enjoyed writing it.

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POWERS

As of February of 2024 we know very little of Elain’s powers, and while we know for sure that she has visions or something close to it, making her a seer; there’s reason to think that she might be able to do more than that.

ACOWAR CHAPTER 75

It’s been said throughout the series that the cauldron is taken with Elain, and gifted something to her. While Nesta took power from it, Death itself as Rhysand called it in ACOSF, Elain was blessed by it.

While I have a preference for what those powers might be, I’m not going to stick only to my ideas, but I’ll also mention some alternatives the fandom has come up with.

ACOWAR CHAPTER 74

There’s two things I want to talk about when it comes to this passage.

— Elain stepped out of a shadow.

While there’s a lot of possibilities as to why Elain was able to do this, the exact moment it was needed, there’s two main theories I would like to mention.

One. Elain was able to winnow.

ACOMAF CHAPTER 7

ACOMAF CHAPTER 13

This is the most simple explanation to what happened in ACOWAR, and it could be an indication of Elain’s power being greater than that of a normal high fae.

“Only the stronger fae can do it.”

But it also leaves the question of what about the training? We all know Feyre is a High Lady, and even she had to train to be able to use that ability, so how is Elain able to do this so easily at the right moment in the middle of the battle field?

I would love to offer you an alternative.

TWO. Elain used Truthteller’s powers.

HOFAS CHAPTER 25

We learned in CC3 that Azriel doesn’t know how to use Truthteller to its full potential, what if Elain was able to see it with her Seer abilities and make use of it?

ACOWAR CHAPTER 30

It’s known in the fandom that Elain foresaw Cassian’s death. And while some still think this is going to happen in future books, I believe it already happened and Elain found a way to stop it.

ACOWAR CHAPTER 69

If Elain was able to winnow all along, why didn’t she take the dagger that Cassian offered her? She could’ve killed the king with that one just fine. Unless, she isn’t or didn’t know she was able to until she possessed Truth-Teller.

It’s been proven in CC3 that The star-sword and Truth-Teller possess a unique ability when combined/used together, but Vesperus was referring to Truth-Teller on its own.

HOFAS CHAPTER 12

This conversation in CC3 tells us two things:

Truth-Teller doesn't possess the ability to kill the unkillable we saw with The Starsword and Ataraxia. So, a simple dagger could've killed the King of Hybern.

It's implyed by the name of the dagger and what Azriel said that it might possess truth powers.

What if Truth-Teller showed Elain her ability to winnow or the dagger's innate power to help her do it?

HOFAS CHAPTER 12

"The dagger shone with darkness" - "Elain stepped out of the shadow."

As for the second thing I wanted to mention about ACOWAR 74: Only those with the power of the starborn can wild the Sword and the knife. And this is a fact.

Healing - Life Powers

ACOWAR CHAPTER 76

Going back to the Cauldron and Elain's gifted powers. It would make sense that while Nesta stole Death itself from it, Elain might've been gifted with Life by it.

Throughout the ACOTAR books, Elain's been linked to spring and gardens, and there have been many instances where SJM wrote about Elain growing plants, growing life.

ACOWAR CHAPTER 80

All of this aligns with what we learned about Theia and the Dusk Court in CC3.

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HOFAS CHAPTER 22

This right here is what inspired this theory, the moment I read this, everything made sense to me. This is what Bryce senses in the prison with her starborn powers, sounds familiar?

ACOWAR CHAPTER 24

Even Lucien knows that what Elain is saying doesn't seem to be about him, and I never believed it was. The wording is very specific.

"I can hear your heart through the stone." - "There was a beating, vibrant heart locked away, far beneath them."

HOFAS CHAPTER 67

"Off making more gardens?" - "I think the world needs more gardens."

Again, the wording used here was too specific to be a coincidence. A Garden, that's how SJM referred to the mountain Bryce awakened in Avallen, which is almost the exact copy of the Prison/Dusk Court.

HOFAS CHAPTER 19

"blossomed under her care,"

All of this makes me think of something SJM mentioned in ACOSF.

ACOSF CHAPTER 22

There was no reason for SJM to mention this particular detail unless it's something that might come to happen in the future; and with all of the foreshadowing I just showed you, I think it's pretty clear who they might be referring to.

In HOFAS, Bryce takes Theia's power from the mountain and this awakens the land. She already did this in Pythian, but we didn't get to know if the same thing happened there. What if the land needs a High Lady to really blossom and come back to what it once was?

I can't think of anyone better than Elain to do that.

DRESS FORESHADOWING

One thing that some elriels noticed is that SJM makes it a point of having Elain 90% of the time in either pink or blue dresses, this is a fun detail that we love to mention when talking about The Sleeping Beauty retelling theory, this one is one of my favorites so definitely check it out.

While this is true for most of the series, SJM decided to make Elain wear another color in Silver Flames, purple, the mix of the two. Where am I going with this?

I think this Google image speaks for itself, but one last thing! There's a particular line of inner monologue from Cassian that a lot of gwynri3l's use to justify Elain "not belonging" in the Night Court.

ACOSF CHAPTER 57

While they love to forget that the Inner Circle did this on purpose to make Elain look "plain", so Eris would keep his attention on Nesta; they might have a point because no, Elain won't stay in the Night Court.

ACOSF CHAPTER 57

Nesta looks stunning in black tho, so she'll most definitely stay there. Right?

COLORING BOOK SYMBOLISM

On another note, user acoracaodefogo found something really interesting in the official coloring book for the series. Remember how Archeron's father named three ships after his daughters? Well, each of them has a symbol that correlates to something important about the sisters' future.

The Feyre has a crescent moon and stars, symbolizing the night court, and The Nesta has a creature that looks close to what the hounds of the Daglan are described as (intriguing), and a sun, like the one in the mask of the trove.

Elain's however, has an eight-pointed star, the symbol of the starborn and the Dusk Court.

HOEAB CHAPTER 21

As we already know, only the starborn can wield the Sword and the knife, and Elain happened to wield one of the two already.

STARBORN HERITAGE

Were the sisters already part of the Starborn line? I think this might be the case. It never made sense to me how Nesta was able to shield her mind from a high lord, or that Rhys could feel Feyre, his mate, while still being human; or how their father was able to make a deal with Koshei. We know he was known as the Prince of Merchants before losing all of his fortune, but what could he offer Koshei? What could be so important that a death god was happy to strike a deal with that old man?

ACOTAR CHAPTER 35

And there's also this. This little piece of information is what made me believe the sisters weren't completely human after all. Why would their parents know and old name of the fae? The humans hate the fae, they are scared of them, why would they choose that name for their youngest daughter?

There's also this new piece of information we got in CC3. Ruhn has healing magic, from the starborn line? This aligns perfectly well with what some elriels have been speculating since ACOWAR, that Elain saved Cassian not only by stabbing the King of Hybern, but also by immediately running towards him and healing some of his wounds.

HOFAS CHAPTER 94

NOTE: One last thing that came to my mind just now, the Starborn lake is in the Spring Court and it was said multiple times in Silver Flames that Elain would love to see that court. Just a thought.

This is going to be it for now, if you have something else to add to this please do; I would love to talk more about it!

ACOSF CHAPTER 21

BUT ELAIN TURNED ON HER HEEL. "FIND ME WHEN YOU WISH TO BEGIN."

ACOSF FEYSAND BONUS CHAPTER

"LET'S HELP ONE SISTER BEFORE WE START ON THE OTHER."

#elriel #pro elain #elain archeron #acotar #dusk court #pro elriel #elainduskcourt

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shirakumuluscloud · 1 year

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Fyodor Will Activate Corruption (Ace, Mori, and Chuuya's hat)

Tldr at the bottom.

Fyodor let's himself get captured by Ace in order to steal a list of the PM's abilities. Seeing as it even includes Mori's, it most likely includes Chuuya's and possibly information about Corruption. Ace wanted to overthrow Mori. In order to do so, he would have had to get rid of Chuuya. Corruption would not only kill many, but it would also kill Chuuya, getting rid of many of Mori's strongest allies. What if Ace was planning on using Corruption to overthrow the mafia, and possibly had information about it's activation?

Fyodor also possibly witnessed Corruption due to the events of dead apple. Sigma also seems to know of Chuuya, possibly because he was important to Fyodor's plans (and was mentioned in passing to Sigma)

I am unsure of how Chuuya's gate works; Verlaine was able to open it, N was not able to open and tried tricking Chuuya into opening it himself, Dazai later claims that Chuuya cannot open it on his own with just the phrase, he needs the hat to do so.

However, because Fyodor is currently controlling Chuuya through the vampirism, it's possible that he may be able to activate Corruption.

Does the vampirism override the hat? Chuuya being mind controlled to use Corruption vs the hat which grants him free will over corruption. Should the hat not prevent this exact thing?

I think so, and I'll take it one step further and say that the hat can prevent vampirism/the mind control that comes with it

This is the description of Chuuya/Verlaine's hat:

"any interception of his consciousness by instruction from the outside". Bram's ability could fall into into "instruction from the outside", (as it's an outside source controlling the vampires actions/thoughts)

So then why is Chuuya a vampire? Why can Fyodor activate Corruption?

Because Chuuya isn't currently wearing HIS hat. He's wearing a hat that looks a lot like it, but it is not the hat that Rimbaud gave Verlaine.

Who has Verlaine/Chuuya's hat?

(from ch. 91, when Mori informs Kenji+Tanizaki to rejoin the agency)

(I just want to state that this is just a theory. There are other ways Mori could've escaped becoming a vampire, his subordinates sacrificed themselves for him, he planned his escape ahead, he foresaw all this)

Mori, the only (known) member of the PM who managed to escape becoming a vampire while everyone else is his organization did, shows up with a hat that looks a LOT like Chuuya's. A hat that prevents mind control, a hat that might prevent Bram's ability.

The hat Mori has looks extremely similar to the one Chuuya has on. One of these is that hat Mori has from ch. 91, one of these is the hat Chuuya is wearing in ch. 105.5. Need I saw more.

For more comparison, here is Chuuya's hat when he was rescuing the ADA from the Hunting Dogs (unvamped) and as depicted in a flashback

(very minor edits such as getting rid of Chuuya's chain and getting rid+drawing over where Mori's finger and Chuuya's hair was obstructing the hat)

We've never ever seen Mori wear a hat but now he suddenly has one that again looks like Chuuya's anti mind control hat? And he somehow managed to escape becoming a vampire?? That's odd

Mori currently has Chuuya/Verlaine's real hat, which is how he escaped/why he's not a vampire.

But that means that Chuuya does not have his hat, and cannot control the activation of corruption through his own free will...

...which means that Fyodor (with the help of Bram's vampire+control ability) will be able too activate it

(Dazai's dropped a lot of levels in Meursault, Fyodor is closer to the exit, they have a time limit, whoever gets there first recieves the antidote...) Fyodor just needs to slow Dazai down to win. Activating corruption would not only wreck havoc on Meursault (Dazai may be immune to abilities but he is not immune to giant slabs of concrete), Fyodor also wants to kill Sigma, but Fyodor might want to force Dazai to take a detour (saving Chuuya) (he learned corruption can kill Chuuya from Ace's files). Fyodor has been using Chuuya against Dazai, he would force Dazai to choose between saving his partner or getting the antidote/winning. There's also the element of how Chuuya trusts Dazai to stop corruption in time.

Fyodor's idea: He forces Chuuya to use Corruption, Sigma is killed during it, Dazai is either

1) killed during corruption. Chuuya also dies as Dazai didn't nullify it.

2) Dazai goes to stop corruption. Fyodor gets the antidote first, Dazai dies. (Fyodor would likely position Chuuya somewhere where Dazai won't be able to get to him in time/even if Dazai does get to him in time, he'd remain a vampire)

3) Chuuya activates corruption, Dazai is stalled by the attack. Fyodor gets the antidote first, Dazai dies. Chuuya also dies for the same reason stated in (1)

(Fyodor is okay with Chuuya dying as he's served his purpose)

Meursault's walls are anti ability, but we see that other things can be affected by abilities. Also Corruption is a singularity, and they might not be able to resist it.

Tldr: Fyodor stole files from Ace about the PM's abilities, he knows about corruption from them or DA/his weird stalking tendencies. Mori has Chuuya's hat (bc the hat prevents Bram's ability from working) which allows Chuuya to control the activation of corruption. Fyodor therefore can activate corruption. Fyodor will activate corruption to mess with+gain an advantage over Dazai and kill Sigma+Dazai.

#bsd chuuya #chuuya bsd #mori bsd #bsd mori #bsd dazai #dazai bsd #fyodor bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd dostoevsky #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bungo stray dogs #bsd #skk #soukoku

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l0mljeonjungkook · 2 years

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AGING FINE LIKE WINE | JJK x Reader

summary - It's your best friend's, no no no, your boyfriend's birthday and you slated a surprise for him, bestowing him with what he asked you eight months ago. But a simple beach date under the starry sky, on his birthday, was something which he least expected, you make his twenty-fifth birthday one hell of a souvenir.

Pairing - Jungkook x Reader

Warnings - 18+, a beach date, sex in the car, nipple play, explicit smut, pierced nipple kink, pregnancy mention, unprotected sex, lots of hickeys, breast kink.

Genre - childhood best friend au, childhood best friend to lovers, fluff, smut.

Word Count - 7k

A/N- It's a drabble of Home is where the heart is but could be read standalone. The first chapter of this series is - the present scenario and this drabble carries you to the past, and yes! there was no silhouette of Taehyung.

Series Masterlist

*Alarm blares* you abruptly quiver, as if the blaring sound of the machine beside you, is drilling a hole in your head. You shut the machine abruptly like a shot it's half past four, and you turn your head to watch the man beside you, sleeping soundly. You rise a little and lean towards him, drinking in the sharp features that make him look ethereal diurnal, you smile when his lips turn up a little with your gentle touch and you love to see him smile and faint crinkles near his eyes, whilst he's in deep slumber.

You plant a soft and long kiss on his forehead, "Happiest Birthday the sweetest kookie of my life, I ever had and will forever have until I die, the best gift of my life, I could have ever asked in this lifetime, love of my life. May that smile shall remain forever on your lips and I would be grateful if I would be the reason for your smile, my love", you whisper in your very much raspy voice with blurry tears in your eyes, as you trace the left cheek scar with your thumb before placing a soft kiss.

If your memory serves you, it would be his fifteenth birthday with you as a friend, but as your boyfriend - it's fourth, to be exact. You have been subjected to a lot of conversation, rambling about why he does not like to celebrate his birthday but rather loves to stay at home, beside you binging your favourite cookies together he loves to bake for you, whilst playing video games and making you lose the game by distracting you in all the filthy way he could.

You silently slide off the blanket, but stop, leaning closer to him you peck a soft kiss on his lips, "happiest birthday baby, I hope to make this day the best birthday of your life ", you see him licking his cold piercing on his lips after you kissed. You slide the blanket and rise on your toes. You pick up your phone and strut out of the room. First black coffee, you can't even walk without this elixir, you parade to your kitchen to prepare the early morning cup of your black coffee, albeit routinely it starts after eight in the morning but today, for a day you call yourself a morning bird. It's his birthday, twenty-fifth to be precise, you are wide awake to pack some of the gifts, which are left unpacked.

Last night you hibernated after one in the morning faking that you got some office work as Jungkook yelled at you for not seizing proper rest even after returning home from the office, though he slept after waiting for you for an hour, whilst reading books on different recipes he loves to try, in reality, you were baking the salted peanuts butter cookies for your kookie - his favourite.

Often you have been subjected to a conversation, rambling about his favourite cookies, when his mother baked salted peanut butter cookies, how he shoved them all at once and mentally prepared himself for the scoldings he'll get from his mother. YES! You never foresaw yourself baking cookies, but for him, you can do anything, even cook if he asks!

Here you're in your kitchen, preparing a huge cup of black coffee for yourself at half past four in the morning! And there are still a few left for you to pack.

Pouring the hot black coffee in the cup, whilst thinking about Jungkook, the way he yelled at you god, how you deterred yourself from kissing him, how hopeless and frustrated you were, watching him so bothered about you, yea that was desirable enough to strip him off then and there in your kitchen. Sex in the kitchen! sounds divinely pleasing.

Thinking about sex - a hot cup of coffee in hand - and your nasty brain as you took a sip of blazing hot coffee because you were feeling about hot steamy sex in the kitchen hah!!!

Oh good god-- what an incredible start of the day.... your holy mucky senses. Your burnt tongue is a remembrance of your brain rich in filth. You make your path to the coffee table in front of the couch, you pick up the fresh red roses as you parade lazily to your home library.

As you stride in your eyes trip to the table with the five gift boxes that you already sealed with brown paper and written tinges on white paper as you labelled over the crown of each box. You shut the door behind you, as you check the boxes, and mumble - touch, smell, sight, taste, sound. Whole!

You draw out rose petals and plop them on the tray. Pleasant my babe's gonna love the surprise, I'm optimistic.

Now the lone thing left is - the elegant tiny letters. Your favourite and the toughest role, the foremost rationale why you saved this task tardy on your plan.

On the table beside the gifts, last night you maintained some short paper tiny letters - for writing your heart out on each of them. You tug the notes in hand and the bottle of his favourite cologne of yours and you drizzle on each note before writing on them. The short paper notes are creamy in texture and thick like a card. Some short papers are plain red - others are more baroquely designed with cute little candle doodles in red, blue, yellow, pink, and purple colours, in the corners of some notes, or pretty rose petals in Persian red on others, some with cute pink lips doodles, and a few with heart eyes emoticons, without ruining any more time you jump to take the red marker to write on each of the notes because it's quarter past five and a lot of work is left to be done.

Placed the notes on the same tray of rose petals, with scotch tape and scissors. You move to your shared room to adorn it before he wakes up, unhurriedly open the door and on tiptoes, you saunter towards your bed, place the tray and move to the library to pick up the remainder and return to the room.

Subsequently, fifty minutes after adorning your room with everything you had, it's quarter past six, and you do the latter work, before striding out of your shared apartment.

The slight leak between the curtains, lets the sunshine through the wide glass windows, earning him to rub his eyes as it tumbles promptly on Jungkook's face, however his eyes are still shut. Taking a lungful of your essence on sheets jumbled with the intense and spicy fragrance of roses earns him a smile.

In reflex, his hand trick to your side of the bed, sensing the sheets cold carves his eyebrows furrow, but what earns his eyebrows knit together are the rose petals which he feels under his skin, "y/n" he calls you, voice raspy and eyes still shut.

"y/n?" Kookie whines like an infant, whilst rubbing his eyes.

And when he infers, you are not around him in this room and not actually in the apartment because if you would be here, he would just .... know. It's your tradition to wake him up in the morn with a cup of black coffee in your hand. However today he feels odd. He swivels over, picks up his phone, and from the side of his pillow, he unrolls his eyes to check the time... Oh, I woke up early.

He feels odd on his forehead, and in reflex, his hand moves to his forehead.

A note is taped on his forehead, as he plucks it out to check it with a scowl on his face, but that frown doesn't prevail long, "I can feel you callin' my name babe!!! ", and it turns to a smile when he read your note, he turns the note around, "Happy birthday to my lifeline, I desire you all the love, harmony and joy in your life... By the way, there's a lot besides, text me as you read this love, your princess ".

He kisses the note with a grin, and he takes a lungful of the pally and friendly essence of the note, as he shuts his eyes whilst drowning in the pool of this divine whiff jogging his remembrance, as he soon reckons about you. The perfume nudges him about you.

Kookie 7:30 am: Good morning princess, I'm awake, where are you?

He glimpses at your image on his phone screen wallpaper, 'I miss you, princess, doubtless the first morning in four years without you beside me, and I do not appreciate this y/n'. He glances around the room, and his eyebrows shoot up, LV keepall bag on the table, rose petals and balloons all over the floor, and he whirls his head to find rose petals with a wine bottle of Vigor Sangiovese and five boxes of gifts with titles which he dominated. She did all of this but when?

Your phone jingles and you're retreating to your home. You browse your phone, oh he wakened. You smash reply.

You 7:35 am Happy Birthday My Love, I LOVE YOU. And I'm on my way. Did you get my note?

Kookie 7:38 am: Of course I got it. My princess taped it to my head.

You're cackling uproariously in the morning on the road, like crazy. You implemented this, and you can foresee the sight of him frowning at the taped note on his forehead.

He picks up the bottle of red wine, "Woah, Vigor Sangiovese.... She's amazing", and picks out the little note with heart eyes emoticons on the fences, "AGING FINE LIKE WINE ", he snorts, as he rubs the back of his neck with another hand, oh god this girl, he cackles.

Retaining the bottle back on the bed he bends forward to the gifts as he grabs the box, marked touch. He unwraps it. There's an orange Louise Vuitton box, inside it is a - LV Baroque Ranger Boot - colour black.

His eyes glow up, and his smile is brighter than the Sirius. His eyes meander straight to the boots but something hooks his eyes - the lid of the box, a note taped on it too, "The start of every new journey entails a new pair of shoes, and I am dying to start one with you, so here are your shoes and tie your shoes strongly I don't want you falling for anyone else! And yes thank you for knot running away from me, staying with me in all the stormy situations, my love... Happy Birthday." A tear escaped from his eyes, after reading the note.

And the boots - he was eyeing for months and couldn't buy because foremost - because of its unavailability and additional - when it was attainable, you interrupted him from buying, telling him, "Babe, we'll go to LV store this weekend, you could buy then?", and that weekend never reached you two. So naive of him he paid heed to what you swore and since then it's been four months. Now, he understood why you stopped him.

The ensuing box is labelled as sight. It's tiny and featherlight as if filled with cotton. He unwraps it and there's a folded pink sheet. Unravelling the sheet, it seems it's a letter and yes he's not wrong. You wrote a letter to him -

"I hope you know that you're not the one who loves the most, this letter is for you to let you know that I love you the most here. Got it!! I'm not intimidating you today, and I won't intimidate you today I promise, but can't promise about tomorrow or the day after or the future.

Getting to know you after being with you, is different like I never knew you. And it's like my life is changed. My heart was barren and it absorbed me, but you filled my heart with your love and your smile. I can see my future more clearly now cause you're the light in my light. You overlooked my flaws.

When the entire world was sombre, covered with dark clouds. I found myself to be bound in an endless winter, and you brought the rainbow to my life, the warmth beside you felt like the sun in the cold morning.

Jungkook I love you, I didn't know I would ever love someone again or be loved by someone. But you proved me wrong and I'm grateful that I have you by my side whether the whole world averses me, I know I have you beside me, my home, my rainbow, my light in the darkness.

When I look into your eyes, your colourful eyes glistening with love for me, I see a reflection of my soul in them. And in your arms - there's no place on earth that could ever give me the serenity, warmth, comfort, safety, that I would rather be.

I can't stay away from you and can't imagine my life without you, my love. I hope you feel the same.

I love you,

Your princess."

The blurry vision, whilst reading your letter could tell he feel the same for you. You're the one, he wants to cherish in his lifetime. Their love for you grows twofold because he's so grateful for you.

The love you both have in your heart is immeasurable. He brushes out the tears.

Picks up another box, labelled as sound. This mini box is as light as the earlier one. He marvels, at what it could be. He brings the box close to his ear and jiggles it, but there's nothing to be heard. He presses his lips into a thin line as he unwraps it, ohhh concert tickets for two--

You 8:15 am: I'm hoping that you must be getting ready... If not then scoot and take a nice shower... I'm coming.

Kookie 8:17 am: come on, I'm waiting princess.

The butterflies blossoming into the pits of your stomach by just reading princess, honestly not reading you could hear him say.

He takes the yield of another one - labelled as smell. This one's heavier though. He unwraps the box, there are two gifts 2nd one isn't a gift but regardless, that allures him. It's your thong, yes! Thanks to your mucky brain. His eyebrows shoot up, and oh boy you should catch that lopsided grin on his face like it's the best gift you gave.

Kookie 8:25 am: The box labelled as smell, has my favourite stuff in it.

He takes your thong close to his nose, taking a brief lungful of your flavour, and the urge to fuck you right now is eating him. As he looks over to his phone, waiting for your reply. He checks the other stuff in the same box, a Flaconnier with three sets of perfumes from Louis Vuitton. And you should see the smile on his face, he was eyeing this set for months and now it's in his hands, but the thong remains fixed at first on the list.

The last one - taste... He knows this one for sure because you have been doing this on his birthday for four years. He open the lid of the box, and yes he was right. It's his favourite salted peanuts and butter cookies. This is the only box without a note.

He slides away the blanket, really wanting to know, what is she up to. make his way towards the door. There’s one more tiny wrapped box. He picks it up, unwraps it… open the box, and again there's a note, "what if I tell you, your wish is my command. The wish you wanted to come true... It's happening - so get ready."

Kookie 8:30 am is the number of gifts I have unwrapped today since morning, hypothetically will end up stripping you off tonight.

You 8:33 am: oh love you don’t know how much I have been waiting for this.

Kookie 8:35 am: Then why wait for the night princess, come home.

Jungkook took a fresh warm bath, now he's waiting for you with his cup of black coffee in one hand and the cookie you made in the other. His eyes flicker back to the front door.

There's a creak of the door heard, you're ultimately back, with a huge rose bouquet. You dug into the flower stores for the flawless bouquet for 2 hours and found it at last.

He positions the cup on the kitchen counter and parades towards you, he did miss you. The corner of his mouth turned up from ear to ear, as if you both met after a long time, "princess" he chimes seeing you home, he picks you up and spins you around.

"Jungkook, happy birthdayyyy... Kookiieeee I'm scaredddd," your breathless laugh echos around your apartment, and his heart swells with love for you... Your laugh is harmonious to his ears. "Thank you, princess, for the gifts and everything but the most precious gift for me is you and that's never gonna change," his palms are cupping your cheeks as he presses a kiss on your forehead.

He kisses you, long and relentless. His arms hug you tightly around your waist, as he buries his head at the crook of your neck and plants butterfly kisses from your shoulder and stops below your ear.

He leans closer to you, as he softly outlines your hair, his hand slides down to your cheeks and you lean your face on his palm, "My princess, I'm gonna just appreciate you right now... The cookie is divine--"

"Babe let's go, there's a surprise for you, a hint - it's a beach date", you park a gentle kiss on his palm.

"One more? And beach date? Did you read my bucket list?" His eyebrows shoot up, and he leans forward and parks a kiss on your forehead, "princess, the likelihood of the rain is increased threefold," he looks outside the window, "perhaps it could rain anytime soon" as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

"Truthfully I want that... But by judging the weather it won't rain until tonight so come onnn", you whine and rise on your tiptoes to place a soft peck on his lips. He chuckles at your childlike excitement, "my precious baby,", and he kisses you back.

"I'm stunned already with all those gifts and my favourites are the cookies", his eyes glinting with contentment and delight.

"Ouch, here I thought those lacy black thongs would be your favourite... Aahh poor me", you bite your chuckle, looking everywhere but him. You push him aside he parks his ass on the couch. You stroll back to your bedroom.

He grabs your wrist and drags you back and your hips are plopped on his lap, his dark eyes peeking deep into your soul and grin braided with lechery, making cold shivers run down to the south, and you feel your core twitch.

"That was delicious, princess" he whispers.

"Ya-- yaah! time trickled down now, do not make up, I got it cookies were favourite. Now, let that ass work a little and pick up the bag and let's move to your next surprise--"

He kissed you hungrily, his hands travelling to your back, holding you close whilst kissing you, as you throw your arms around hugging him, your hands grabbing the nape of his neck.

He breaks the kiss yet your lips touch each other, "Princess I wish I could freeze this time right now, and be in this moment with you forevermore." His hoarse whispers into your mouth.

He kisses you on the angle of your nose and chuckles, "the same baby", your eyes travel from his lips to his eyes, a frown between your eyebrows.

You rise from his lap, as he grabs your wrist again to stop you, softly rubbing your ass, "Jungkooookiie--", he smacks your ass hard, "ouch", you yelp, and you can imagine the burning imprint of his heavy hand.

"This is what I wanted to listen to," he smoothly slides his hands to soothe your now scarlet skin. "I'm taking the bag with me, waiting for you in the parking lot, princess," as he picks up the bag and struts out of the apartment.

You rub the area where he smacked you a few minutes ago. It stings.

This is the day to yourselves, more often than not.

You're wearing a black drop shoulder rib knit tee paired with shorts, something comfy for long car drives.

You saw him in the parking lot leaning to the car, talking to someone over a phone call. You silently on tiptoes make your way to him. Wait, Mr Jeon.

You stand behind him, groping his ass, as he turns around and you rub his ass to stop him from turning, "R E V E N G E", placing a kiss on his back. He chuckles as he put the phone aside.

"Oh, I love this revenge, princess." He grabs your hand and turns back.

"Whattt?" You whine as you slide your hands into your pockets. His eyes drink in your features.

"Why don't we go back home and continue what you left right--"

"Shut up," you hiss.

"did you just say 'shirt up', oh anything for my princess," he grabbed the hem of his double sleeves black Balenciaga t-shirt, stripping it off.

You place your hand on his trying to stop him, "YOU! Kookie I know you heard what I just said," you narrow your eyes on him, and you see a ghost of a smile that melts away as you notice, "get inside!"

He's laughing seeing you all flustered scarlet cheeks with his mere act. He opens the door for you, "mi lady", you nod and give him a small peck before entering.

"are you going to wear those cute heart-shaped sunglasses" he chuckles loudly.

"yes!!" You declare, crossing your arms around your chest.

"where's mine then?"

"You too want this??" His question shooks you, is he serious or just chaffing?

"Both of us in black... The sunglasses should also be the same!"

"Good for you I do have one more in blue hah!" How proud you are!

He enters and starts the car to venture to your destination.

Your heart rate is higher than the speed of the car, and the thoughts haunt you, what if he does the same as you did, like you did eight months back, staying silent at the sudden question that tumbled out of his quivering lips, on the snowy Christmas night. But all your thoughts fade away when you hear him singing, his sweet dulcet tumbling out of his lips along the song whilst driving filling the car with his melodies satiating your soul, your favourite part in long drives.

You look at him, with all the warmth in your eyes, your heart is so full of love for him.

"don't just look at me princess, come on sing along", his eyes are on the road and doesn't even spare a glance at you.

"Baby you can, ride it ooh yeah, bring it over to my place, and you be like," he sings as he gestures you to sing.

"Baby who cares?", you let your body flow with the beats, oh you just love this.

"But I know you care, bring it over to my place", he sings, side-eyeing you, smirking. His eyes roam around your body, bite his lips, circling on the cold metal piercing with his tongue and pulling it into his mouth, teeth biting the metal.

"I can feel you staring at me," you say in a song-like voice, and he chuckles that you got it right. "Oh I love this line - tie it up, put a chain on it,... It should be my cut that it - tie me up, put a chain on me," placing your hand on his thighs, and you feel him twitch under your touch yet he doesn't spare a glance.

"Oh, you want that right,"

"Oh YESSS", your hands just so close to his crotch.

"y/n, I'm driving", he claims shifting the gears, as he huffs out a breath.

"Sorry sir.."

The weather is windy kind of stormy, with dark heavy clouds hiding the sun behind them. You secretly wish it to rain today. You leave the busy streets of the city behind, as you are on the way to the beach.

Strangely, there's no one to be seen here, but you are grateful for that. Perhaps it's the magic of the stormy weather. After a long drive to the beach. You look up to the sky the dark clouds cover the sky. It's 7 pm, the weather as said.

You both unlock the door and move out of the car. "Princess are you sure, you want to stay here... I mean we could go back home."

"Uh no no.. it's actually perfect"

He holds your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, as you both move towards the ocean. "It's been years since I visited this place" his face lighting with joy, taking in the view with his sparkling eyes and cheerful smile making him glow in this cold weather. You watch him smile and that smile makes the pits of your stomach bloom with butterflies, you adore the man beside you. You want to make this birthday the special one, the one that will be engraved in his memory. You want to make every second of this day special for him. You bring your hand intertwined with his and place a kiss on the back of his hand. He looks at you with his starry eyes, mirroring your eyes.

You both are silent beside each other, taking in the sound of waves that is giving peace to your soul. The breeze smells so fresh like the ocean water, the wrinkling waves touching the shoreline, the rhythmic sound of the waves, drawing you and Jungkook to sit down. As you both sit, the curling waves touch your feet, tingling your feet.

You lean your head on his shoulder as he scoots you closer to him, his thumb drawing circles at the small of your waist.

This is what you were waiting for, rain. It suddenly started raining Jungkook rises from the sand. "Come on love, we should stay in the car."

"No", you rise, you move closer to him, "hold me tight and never let me go", as you place your hands on his chest, you faintly press the hard metal on his pierced nipples. "Never! at least not in this lifetime" his arms hugs around your waist, you place butterfly kisses on his collarbone, to the jaw as he moan "y/n", you rise on tiptoes, "NO let me", looking at his warm and plump lips as you lick your lips and kiss them and he let you, your mouth on his, the rhythmic sound of the waves faints. You slide your tongue into his mouth and he let you. His hold tightens onto your small waist making you clingy. The lovely scrimmage of your tongue over his tongue, the dominant moments of your tongue make his member behind a veil of his pants.

He breaks the kiss, taking a lungful of O2, panting so painfully sexily, looking into your eyes, his dark gaze giving you shivers down to your spine. His chest heaving sorely.

His hands wander across your curves, "Princess, the hell you are so-- soaking wet!" he yells between his shaking breaths. "come on, let's move inside the car!"

"A b-- big NOOOOOO", you jump in excitement.

"you’re goi-- going to get sick." his voice shakes.

"It's ok-- okay. My baby boy, you’ll take a-- care of me anyway, come on! Join me, love."

He crosses his arms and watches you with his dark eyes, giving you cold stares.

"What babe it's your birthday enjoy it like a brimful." You chortle.

He still is looking at you, and you blink your eyes owlishly, you roll your eyes.

"Do Not ROLL YOUR EYES"

You blink nervously you didn't intend to roll your eyes. He stretches out his hand and as you hold, you both run towards the car. You both are sitting in the back of the Mercedes.

You pick the towel, and rub his head to dry out his hair as you sneeze, "see, I told yo--" he sneezes, and you chuckle, "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that", you side-eye him, and points your finger to the place you two were, moments ago.

"Yea I did but see --" you both sneeze in unison.

"repeat after me that was a ridiculous idea", taking hold of the towel from your hands.

"I know." You utter under your breath, eyes wandering out watching the junction of the waves and the raindrop meeting like him and you, and you lick your lips at the image popping at the picture frame inside your head.

"Then why did you do it?", as he gently wipes your face and hands.

"So that you’ll do it with me." You murmur under your breath.

"Was that the only reason?" He softly traces your lips with his thumb.

"your bucket list," you bite your bottom lip, looking everywhere but him. An exaggerating sigh vacates his pierced lips, parking his palms on your cheeks, you whirl your head to face him and he places a kiss on your lips. A strange feeling bubbling in the pits of your stomach.

He places his hand with a few cold rings on your bare thighs giving you chills that crawl to your spine, sliding smoothly under your shorts. His fingers are gently rubbing your clit, "Bare pussy I love that, princess. I'm loving all the surprises." He whispers into your ears, warm breath hitting the crook of your neck and bites your lobe before leaning back.

"you need to get rid of these wet clothes, you know?" Contrary to his honeyed voice, his boorish hands are at odds.

"You too", with the space of a minute, as you couldn't compel your hunger. Your body under the influence of your filthy brain, unbuttoning his tee, a slight smirk on your face. Tossing his tee away from your sight, you take his pierced nipples between your fingers and pull them peeking deeply into his dark eyes, unveiling your dominance over him as a groan left his lips making your chest swell in the lord. Do you need to stop salivating over his pierced nipples? Isn't it obvious hah?

You were fine with him, rilling you up with his lingering touches on your thighs until his fingers drew circles on your clit. The other hand is hoisting slowly your loose tee, whilst kissing you, oh no no not just kissing biting, sucking, in whole... eating you up! with just a kiss? He's hungry, baby! for you, to be exact. Satiating his thirst is what you love the most. Your breathy moan gets lost in his mouth.

The next minute he's overshadowing you, whilst you are uncomfortably lying in the backseat of your car. As if you are so wet is not enough, his deep dark gaze on you makes you weak on your knees. The sweat trickles down shining in the dim light like diamonds on your skin, with his oh-so-intense look.

Your fingers pull his pierced nipples, while his one hand is now on your waist holding you tightly. The other is on your ass tapping it gently, gesturing you to follow his lead as he's hoisting your loose tee up, placing kisses on your neck to your lobe. A moan slips out of your lips, with your bare skin under his gaze when he throws your tee at the back which hit the window and slides down.

You both quickly slip out of your remaining clothes.

"Eyes on me, princess", he says his hands find purchase on your ass and grab them. His nipples are still between your fingers, caressing them.

He pulls you as your legs wrap around his waist, his member just an inch away, he leans down, "enough played with mine," he takes your nipples between his teeth, "now I'll play with yours", with his muffled voice. How would he not? Probably his favourite business. Biting your nipples, plucking them out as your moans give him two p's - peace and pleasure. Your moans overshadowed the rhythmic dulcet of waves and the rain.

Your back arches off the uncomfortable seat as he pulls your nipples with his teeth and your moans escape, flooding up the car. He holds his thick veiny dick, rubbing the precum all over his member before shoving it inside you. He traces your slit softly with his other hand. He uses his fingers to part your lips careful to not startle you, as if uncovering the food cloche from his favourite dish. He pulls your clitoris keeping it between his index and middle finger, pulling it hard, and looking intently at you, you arch your back. Moans only louder this time.

He runs his shaft between your folds, teasing you but never sliding it in.

"JUNGKOOK..." you whine,

"You sound desperate" he whispers.

Without many words... Fucking under the sky is making him crazy just like you... Is what you think?

He slides his thick veiny member inside your opening, even in the dark he knows where it is... knows every inch of your skin. He's balls deep inside you, you gasp for breath before he cuts you off and slides his tongue into your mouth navigating every corner of your mouth. But he never stops ramming his dick into your tight pussy.

"You're so fu-- ckin tight princess", he says between kisses his words getting lost in your mouth.

Your hands on his back scratching his skin, and just the way you scratch him is enough to let him know how good is he fucking you. His member diving deep inside of you. The grip of your legs tightens around his waist. He's biting every inch of your neck, and you could already envision the marks on your neck that he's going to adore on the drive back to your home. He's rocking his hips deeply into you.

He adores how your tumbles out from your lips and you lick your dry lips over and over again. He's ramming his cock deep inside your pussy. He hits the sweet spot for the seventh time if your memory serves you and your back arches back, a moan escapes your lips filling the car with your sonorous sensuous moans.

"Fuck you feel so good around me," he hisses.

"Baby I can't hold it anymore" you whimper between your moans as he hit that soft spot for the eighth time. Your eyes shuts taking every drop of the pleasure he's offering you.

Your pussy clenching around his dick and cries only growing louder flowing out of your mouth just to fill his heart and the car. His grip around your waist tightens at the clenching of your pussy around him, as he shuts his eyes.

"Fuck, cum princess." He can feel you on the edge now. He groaned looking deeply with his dark eyes into your eyes which are barely open, "eyes on me princess."

You open your eyes like a shot and the clenching of your pussy only tightens. His hips ramming deeply, couldn't contain, "cum".

"Jungkooook, aaahh fuck" you let go, your nails dipping into his back.

"Are you ready princess," his breathy whispers are no less than the waves dulcet.

You nod, "Yes baby fill me up", panting hard after you realise.

Paying heed to your green flag, he cums inside of you, filling you up with his warm cum. Your walls clenching around his member. As he dips his head at the crook of your neck blanketing your body with his - his warm breath tingles your skin. Your hand softly brushes his dark hair.

"Now that's a first", you chuckle into his ear.

"What princess?" His voice mixed with exhaustion and beseech.

"Sex in the car,"

Sex in every possibly uncomfortable position, that's a norm.

"soon planning for the second trip... This was on my bucket list, sex under the sky, kiss in rain--" he pauses and leans back, a vague look on his face "DID YOU READ MY BUCKET LIST!" His voice increased two folds.

"N-- Noo" you stutter.

He looks at the peak of your bud, and pulls it between his fingers, "really? Princess" you move a little with his touch.

"Yea I did.."

He leans down placing a gentle kiss on your lips as he chuckles. He picks his shirt from the bag. "Get up princess wear this, and let's move out." He places a kiss on your forehead, and you nod.

He moves out only in his tropical print waist shorts, hands in his pocket taking a lungful of the ocean breeze.

Wearing his shirt which ends a little above your knees and your thongs. You move out, taking the most special gift for his birthday with you, hiding it behind just not to let him know until the right time. You look up at the now clear sky. You admire the junction of the ocean and the moon.

The never-ending ocean seems like the love in your heart for him - never-ending. The beating sound of waves is calming your soul. The rain stopped a few hours ago. Probably when you two were wrapped around each other. Looking at the sky it seems eight in the evening.

You two make your way to the place where you ... Kissed, sitting down beside each other, your head leaning on his shoulder. You both intently look at the moon. Your heart pounding inside your chest, thinking about how to do it... You did everything so smoothly today but this one... This one is special for you both.

"You made my day special y/n..."

"Kookie. I have some-- something for you"

You pick the box from your left, open it up in front of him picking out the ring. You look at him, his now teary eyes on you looking at you with so much love in them.

"Jungkook, do you remember... Uh just go back to the Christmas night-- you proposed to me? asked me to spend the rest of my life with you. That you do not want to introduce me to your friends as your girlfriend but as your wife....." You pause tears burning your eyes, containing them only burning your throat, "I apologize I didn't answer you then, though my heart was yelling at me to just utter a yes my lips were frozen... I apologize kookie though it took me longer to build up the courage to say a Yes to spending my life forevermore beside my best friend... I'm so so fortunate I guess that I have you by my side... My love, my best friend"....your voice quaver, his eyes never leaving you, "I apologize for the blunder I did then, but now I'm very much clear, and now I'm here with you beside the ocean, under the starry sky with the moon as our witness... promising you that I'll stay with you in every stormy and cloudless situation of our life..." you harrumph, hands shivering, "Will You Marry Me Mr. Jeon Jungkook.." your heart is going to explode any minute now... He's not saying a word since you started speaking. A tear escapes your eyes falling on your cheeks, he quickly wipes them off with his thumb.

"Yes yes yes hundreds of times yes if you'd ask me, now I'm speechless... I know why you were when I asked" he chuckles.

You take his hand in yours and put a ring on his ring finger. He takes your hand and places a peck on it.

"kookie wait here I'm coming" you rise up and quickly stroll towards the car.

Retreating with a bottle of Vigor Sangiovese in one hand and a cupcake with a cute candle on the crown of it.

You sit beside him, keeping the bottle down, and you light up the candle. "Make a wish kookiiee" you chuckle. Taking your hand in his, closing his eyes, "my only wish since I fell in love with you, is to marry you and start our little family together", and he blows the candle. Your heart skipped beating after beating as if it stopped beating after his confession.

After having the cupcake and wine. You both lie down under the starry sky on the dry sand as the cool waves tickle your feet. Your head on his tattooed arms, stargazing is one of your favourite hobbies you two always wanted to do.

"Hey, I have never asked you this," his eyes were still in the sky as if counting the stars.

"Uhh hmm," placing your palm on his chest feeling his heartbeats.

"What do you think of having our-- our baby you know in future?" He stutters

"What--"

"No no nothing nevermind I'm being --"

"Noo kookie please continue I always wanted us to talk about this if you ask me." You look into his eyes

"y/n aahh, I'm scared though i don't know how will you react over this, never ever we discussed about the idea of us being pregnant, having our own baby... Like do you want to have kids or --"

"oh my love ever since I accepted you, accepted you as my partner, ever since then, I have two dreams one to marry you and two to have our kids" you chuckle the excitement in your eyes only mirroring your heart.

"Oh y/n really! Let's do this like right now,"

"Kookie your next birthday, you'll enjoy it beside me and your daughter" your chest bubbles with love for the picture at the back of your head.

"Not your ours, princess." He places a gentle kiss on your hair.

"I'm already picturing you changing a lot of dirty diapers shortly." You chuckle uproariously teasing him to the core.

"yaah I won't mind that though", he brushes your lips with his thumb and kisses you on them.

He leans back, eyebrows furrow, "Do you think I'll make a good father?"

"The best, kookie who'll ruin our kids by baking the cookies cupcakes for them."

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #happy birthday jungkook #bts jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook smut #bestfriend!jjk #l0mljeonjungkook

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completeoveranalysis · 10 months

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[4]

And Tomoyo just whips it out immediately, because she knew he was going to bring it up in this conversation. Not even as a seer, because she can't do that anymore - just because she knows him so well.

AND OH THAT FINAL PANEL, WITH KUROGANE REFLECTED IN TOMOYO’S EYES. AMAZING. BEAUTIFUL.

Also the SECOND funniest way to tie the theme of doubles into Kurogane’s plot - there are just… two of him when reflected in someone’s eyes.

I WILL TAKE IT. THANK YOU CLAMP.

The fact that Kurogane is surprised to see it is SUCH a nice touch. Even though he had a copy of it for such a long time, this is the ACTUAL link to his family. This is the ACTUAL symbol of his past and everything his family legacy means. It's not just a memory anymore - it's sitting right here in front of him, carefully wrapped up and cared for all this time.

It's the final stage in Kurogane's backstory coming back around. It's the continuation of the exact conversation they had in this exact room about this exact sword all those years ago. It's Kurogane finally returning home, not to be with Tomoyo as he once thought, but to continue the promise he made to his family all those years ago, and to take down the man who slaughtered everyone he loved.

It's, once again, everything coming full circle.

Proof that Tomoyo is the best: SHE EVEN PROVIDED THE FLASHBACKS TO THE EXACT SCENE I WENT LOOKING FOR.

THANK YOU TOMOYO, MY BELOVED. If I did not just hunt this down moments ago this would have been the EXACT context I needed.

That aside, Tomoyo pulling a “So I kept it” is infinitely funny to me and this is such a good turn of events.

It turns out that Kurogane’s mother foresaw certain future events and ALSO prepared for them ahead of time.

Or at least that would fit the pattern of every other seer we have in the series. It’s possible she didn’t foresee anything at all and she just talked to Tomoyo as a general precaution, but either way! Here we are!

#Tomoyo feels guilty for lying about it in the first place #Knowing full well she never intended to put it with the grave #But how can you really argue with a request like that?#Kurogane knowing that his Mother Herself wanted him to keep the sword #and carry on the family legacy after they inevitably died #OH WHAT A MOMENT FOR HIM #Liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #Tsubasa #Vol 182 #Kurogane #Tomoyo #So I kept it #It's all so beautiful

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spiritmander13 · 9 months

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So I was watching Best of Microphone because I am really starting to get into her character. I know that video doesn't really show much of her arc, but it is a start.

And... That one dreaded quote.

"Is that what you said to Pickle? Make him think he was doing what he wanted? Like he was heard? *Sigh* I thought I had gained a friend. Turns out... I gained nothing."

@maxphilippa I can already tell you're kinda right with the whole 'Emotion-Wise, Candle and Microphone have the same arc'.

Because of that one scene from S3 Episode 11. The Silvercandle divorce scene, I call it.

C: "Silver Spoon. May I have a word? This morning, I foresaw betrayal. Are you trying to vote me out again?" SS: "Me? No, no, I was just... Soothing, gathering intel-" C: "You're still lying to me? Ugh, I thought you were FINALLY going to be loyal to the team!" SS: "Pfft, the team, the home, the family. I don't know why you still bother with them. They've clearly outgrown you." C: "... And have you? If you dare flip to the other side, I'll..." SS: "You'll?"

Taco was manipulative. So is Silver Spoon. But they aren't the exact same character, and neither are Microphone and Candle. The thing, though, is that in those two scenes, Microphone/Candle realize something terrible about Taco/Silver Spoon and finally confront them. For Microphone, how Taco used her manipulation on Pickle during Season 1 and, therefore, was manipulating her as well, and for Candle, how everyone was moving on and that she was 100% sure Silver Spoon was finally going to take the chance to vote her off, even after they shared a bond.

Microphone simply cuts off contact with Taco and eliminates herself, feeling guilty of getting immunity after realizing what Taco did.

Candle, meanwhile, threatens convincing the Thinkers to try and go against Silver and joins the Loony-Balloonies.

... Both Microphone and Candle stepped up, confronted their manipulators, and while both of them had different ways of dealing with those manipulators- one cutting off contact and doing what they thought would right the wrong, and the other threatening an attack if they didn't allow her to side with them- they still dealt with them.

I don't know if this is correct, I haven't watched Season 2 yet, or even Season 1, only Season 3- but at least I tried to get why those two's character arcs were the same in some way.

#inanimate insanity #ii candle #ii microphone #ii silver spoon #ii taco #ii

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nyxshadowhawk · 3 months

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The Red Book, Liber Primus Part Three

Previous section: https://nyxshadowhawk.tumblr.com/post/740006966416588801/the-red-book-liber-primus-part-two

Picking right up where I left off...

The Splitting of the Spirit

So, now it’s time for Jung’s own Shadow work.

To journey into Hell is to become Hell itself.

Damn. You know, I’d never considered that before, but seeing it written out like this really helps it to sink in. Journey into Hell, and you take on its essence — you become monstrous.

[The desert] seems inhabited by magical beings who murderously attach themselves to me and daimonically change my form. I have evidently taken on a completely monstrous form in which I can no longer recognize myself. It seems to me that I have become a monstrous animal form for which I have exchanged my humanity.

I’m reminded of the concept of Beasthood in Bloodborne, in which drinking the blood of gods turns one into a beast that constantly craves more blood. It’s outright stated at multiple points in the game that the beast is part of man’s inherent nature, a “horrific and unwelcome instinct deep within the hearts of men.” I know exactly what it feels like to transform into this beast-possessed self in meditation, to temporarily suspend one’s humanity and become a savage thing. So, I understand what Jung is going through here.

What follows is a dialogue between Jung and his soul, in which he is indignant at the darkness and animality and stupidity of it all. It seems very backwards to Jung that he should be getting this instead of knowledge, truth, and light. The soul answers obtusely, frustrating him further. It insists that its way is still that of knowledge and light (because Shadow work is necessary for enlightenment), but Jung doesn’t understand this yet. Jung cries out that he has worshipped the soul like a god, but now it wears the face of a devil, of “eternal mediocrity” (showing that Jung associations devilishness/shadow with banality and mundaneness). Everything feels insane and pointless, and he doesn’t like it. It’s counterintuitive that this should be the path towards knowledge and enlightenment. He engages in civil war with himself.

It’s so wild to witness someone else’s Shadow work, and straight from the horse’s mouth. I’m watching him go through almost the exact same thing that I went through, but the things that trigger Jung are not the same things that trigger me. I have much less of an issue with the idea of banality or meaninglessness, and Jung doesn’t seem to have any of my issues around power or sex. Everyone’s Shadow looks different, but the process is always the same.

It’s also interesting to me that Jung’s soul basically becomes his Shadow in this scene — it “wears the mask of a devil, a frightful one” — but he still calls it the soul and not the Shadow. So, does that mean that the Shadow is an aspect of the soul? My own Shadow appears to me as a man, so does that mean that he’s actually my soul, but wearing a Shadowy face? He only wears that face some of the time, not all the time. He’s both my beast and my prince. That’s partly because my Shadow aspects all have to do with power, but it also hearkens back to the duality of sacrificer and sacrificed.

I felt myself transformed into a rapacious beast. My heart glowered in rage against the high and beloved, against my prince and hero, just as the nameless one of the people, driven by greed for murder, lunged at his dear prince. Because I carried the murder in me, I foresaw it. Because I carried the war in me, I foresaw it. I felt betrayed and lied to by my king. Why did I feel this way? He was not as I had wished him to be. He was other than I expected. He should be the king in my sense, not in his sense. He should be what I called ideal. My soul appeared to me hollow, tasteless and meaningless. But in reality what I thought of her was valid for my ideal.

People project onto their leaders. It can be hard for you to accept that your leaders are still people, that they are still flawed, and that they have Shadows of their own. Instead, you want the leader to fulfill your agendas and make the world in your image; to be king according to your idea of what a king is and what a king should do, instead of the king’s own. When the king inevitably demonstrates that he is, in fact, a unique person who has his own personality and agenda, the people feel betrayed and turn on him. Think of all the complaints about politicians not being who you thought they were when they get into office! During campaigns, they pander to the projections, and then their real self inevitably shows because they’re people and not ideas.

Because of all these projections, leaders tend to reflect the unconscious of the people they rule to some extent, especially if the leader is elected by those people. However, sometimes the leader ends up being the pure, concentrated Shadow of the society they rule. Whenever the Shadow goes unaddressed, it takes over, often in spectacular fashion. There’s an obvious example of one such leader in Jung’s time and place. There’s also an example of one such leader in my time and place. If a writer of dystopian fiction created a character that mixed together every bad stereotype of Americans into one person, then named that character after McDonalds and a word that means both “to overcome” and “fart,” I would tell them that they were being way too ham-fisted and writing a strawman instead of a person. Who the hell writes this shit?!

The Murder of the Hero

In a dream, Jung (helped by a colonial “savage” stereotype of a dark-skinned indigenous person) slays the hero Siegfried, who rides on a chariot of bone. Siegfried is blond and blue-eyed, representing all that is good and noble in Jung’s mind. (The footnotes say that Jung didn’t actually feel attached to Siegfried, but this was the image his mind latched on to.) Jung is so disturbed by this dream that he feels like he must take his own life if he does not figure out what it means. He feels better after the spirit of the depths says, “The highest truth is one and the same with the absurd.” I completely agree with that — often the most profound truths delivered by the divine are weird and nonsensical when understood using human logic. This is one of those things.

There is an illustration of this dream:

Jung sort of goes back and forth on what this dream means throughout The Red Book, but his eventual interpretation seems to be that the heroic ideal needs to die in order for one to confront the reality of the Shadow. Here’s his interpretation from Memories, Dreams, Reflections:

…suddenly the meaning of the dream dawned on me. "Why, that is the problem that is being played out in the world." Siegfried, I thought, represents what the Germans want to achieve, heroically to impose their will, have their own way. "Where there is a will there is a way!" I had wanted to do the same. But now that was no longer possible. The dream showed that the attitude embodied by Siegfried, the hero, no longer suited me. Therefore it had to be killed. After the deed I felt an overpowering compassion, as though I myself had been shot: a sign of my secret identity with Siegfried, as well as of the grief a man feels when he is forced to sacrifice his ideal and his conscious attitudes. This identity and my heroic idealism had to be abandoned, for there are higher things than the ego's will, and to these one must bow.

This isn’t what my interpretation of the hero’s death would be. My immediate thought was that heroes or kings always have to die as part of the alchemical process, because that represents ego death, and resurrection always follows. But it is significant that Jung himself is not the one who dies, he’s the one who shoots, accompanied by his Shadow. The idea of indigenous people as “savages” is full-on colonial racism, but it’s also a textbook example of Shadow-projection: Europeans assume that indigenous people are animalistic, barbaric, and violent, and then proceed to commit centuries’ worth of heinous atrocities against them. The Europeans attack the very thing they fear in themselves, and thus become it. So in a way, it’s… uh… progressive?… that Jung recognizes the “savage” symbol as an aspect of himself, identifying with it instead of projecting onto it.

Meanwhile, Siegfried represents everything that Jung perceives is good about himself:

Oh that Siegfried, blond and blue-eyed, the German hero, had to fall by my hand, the most loyal and courageous! He had everything in himself that I treasured as the greater and more beautiful; he was my power, my boldness, my pride. […] If I wanted to go on living, it could only be through trickery and cunning.

You can’t identify with the Shadow until you abandon the notion that you are purely good, beautiful, and noble. Now that Jung has destroyed the noble aspects of himself, he has to live ignobly, through trickery and cunning, i.e. as his Shadow.

The reason why it’s Siegfried in particular is because he represents idealized German-ness. Siegfried or Sigurd is a mythological hero from Germanic and Norse mythology, who slays the dragon Fafnir (and he is actually murdered in mythology, though not like this). Therefore, he’s someone to be admired and emulated. Plus, he’s blond. But, as Jung says in the next chapter, imitating the hero is not a good thing. In fact, it’s explicitly a bad thing, because imitating someone else prevents you from being yourself: “The hero must fall for the sake of our redemption, since he is the model and demands imitation. But the measure of imitation is fulfilled.” Beyond that, I think we can see something prophetic in the murder of Siegfried, the German ideal. If Jung interprets Siegfried as the Germans’ desire to “impose their will,” that is definitely not a heroic thing, and should be shot dead before it gets too far. Alternatively, one could say that the positive and flattering reputation of Germany is killed — I might have to brush up on my history, but if I remember correctly, Germany was on top of its game at the beginning of the twentieth century. Then Siegfried, the blond and blue-eyed German hero, is murdered. The ideal is dead. The world will see Germany’s Shadow. Boy will it ever.

Most of that interpretation is presented in the next chapter, though. In this chapter, Jung’s interpretation of Siegfried is as a projection of the divine:

…I had to kill my lord and God, not in single combat, since who among mortals could kill a God in a duel? You can reach your God only as an assassin, if you want to overcome him. But this is the bitterest for mortal men: our Gods want to be overcome, since they require renewal. If men kill their princes, they do so because they cannot kill their Gods, and because they do not know that they should kill their Gods in themselves.

I like this interpretation better, because it fits in with my general idea that spiritual death is required for rebirth and renewal. The idea that “our Gods want to be overcome” reminds me of Aly Seleem’s Bloodborne theory that the Great Ones want the player to kill them so they can ascend to a higher plane of existence. I’m still not sure if I completely agree with that theory, but this idea of killing God in oneself does make “Hunt the Great Ones. Hunt the Great Ones.” make more sense. Also interesting that God must be assassinated (boy, if only Bloodborne were that easy…) because there’s no other way to win against it — that reminds me of the Titans setting upon baby Zagreus while he’s distracted with toys.

The next section addresses alchemical inversion:

If the God grows old, he becomes shadow, nonsense, and he goes down. The greatest truth becomes the greatest lie, the brightest day becomes darkest night. As day requires night and night requires day, so meaning requires absurdity and absurdity requires meaning. Day does not exist through itself, night does not exist through itself. The reality that exists through itself is day and night. So the reality is meaning and absurdity. Noon is a moment, midnight is a moment, morning comes from night, evening turns into night, but everything comes from the day and morning turns into day.

Night and day are not separate things that exist by themselves. The reality is that both day and night exist and regularly turn into each other, so, they are one thing and not two things. The same is true of all other pairs of opposites. Each pair of opposites represents one thing, not two things.

Interestingly, Jung then makes a connection with Norse pagans:

Judge not! Think of the blond savage of the German forests, who had to betray the hammer-brandishing thunder to the pale Near-Eastern God who was nailed to the wood like a chicken marten. […] But their life force bade them to go on living, and they betrayed their beautiful and wild Gods, their holy trees and their awe of the German forests.

You know, I’ve always wondered, why did pagans abandon their gods for the sake of Christianity? I can understand the appeal of Christianity itself, especially early Christianity, but the mandate that only one god be worshipped seems intolerable to me now. I couldn’t imagine abandoning my gods for its sake. So why did they? It wasn’t all under duress. Sometimes the old gods were kept on as saints, and sometimes churches were built on the same holy sites, but it is not the same. As Jung said before, it lacks its madness. I appreciate that Jung can see that the old gods are beautiful and wild. They are. They still are.

After death on the cross, Christ went into the underworld and became Hell, so he took on the form of the Antichrist, the dragon.

Now this is interesting. This goes back to what Jung was saying before, “To journey into Hell is to become Hell itself.” If Christ journeyed into Hell, then he had to have become his hellish counterpart, the Antichrist. The idea of Christ and the Antichrist being one and the same being is utterly blasphemous by Christian standards, but it also seems really obvious. Of course Jesus would have a Shadow, and of course the thing literally called “Antichrist” would be it. I wonder why I’ve never considered that before.

Gods are unavoidable. The more you flee from the God, the more surely you fall into his hand.

Lol, this is certainly true in my experience.

I can understand Jung’s feelings of confusion and terror after having this murder dream. I actually had a dream like this, once. It’s the only dream I’ve ever had that possessed me with so much terror that it made me literally sit up in bed like in the movies, and like Jung, I had to process it before falling to sleep again (though thankfully it didn’t make me feel suicidal). In the dream, I was apprenticed to a wizard. There was another wizard whom my mother idolized as a spiritual teacher. My wizard told me to kill that other wizard, and while I usually trust my mother’s judgement, I obeyed my wizard and killed him (I don’t remember actually doing it, the dream cut to it having been done). My mother mourned his death. My wizard told me that we were not done, because the wizard’s hat and book still had evil magical power, and that I needed to destroy them. I felt a mounting sense of terror as I tried to acquire the hat and book, and it didn’t subside when I succeeded. My wizard told me to burn the hat and book, and to make the dead wizard’s familiars watch. That last bit was so sadistic that I bolted up in bed. Even after I woke, the terror still didn’t subside. Then I realized the truth: I had killed the wrong guy. My wizard was evil, the magic of the hat and book wasn’t dangerous, and my mother was right all along. Suddenly I felt completely at peace, and promptly went back to sleep. This remains the only truly Jungian dream I’ve ever had, and I still have no idea how to interpret it.

The Conception of the God

The ideas of this chapter are elaborated upon in Jung’s book Aion, in which he argues that the Age of Aquarius will bring the end of Christianity’s two-thousand-year-long spiritual supremacy in the Western world. That period of two millennia happens to coincide with the astrological age of Pisces, the sign of the fish, which is one of the earliest symbols of Christianity. In the coming astrological age, Jung argues, Christianity will begin (and arguably, has already begun) to lose its hold over the cultural consciousness, and the Shadows that it has repressed for so long will start to be addressed.

This chapter of The Red Book is about the conception of the new God of the coming astrological age. Jung says that this new God will be characterized by its synthesis of all dualities:

The divine child approached me out of the terrible ambiguity, the hateful-beautiful, the evil-good, the laughable-serious, the sick-healthy, the inhuman-human and the ungodly-godly. I understood that the God whom we seek in the absolute was not to be found in absolute beauty, goodness, seriousness, elevation, humanity or even in godliness. Once the God was there. I understood that the new god would be in the relative. If the God is absolute beauty and goodness, how should he encompass the fullness of life, which is beautiful and hateful, good and evil, laughable and serious, human and inhuman? How can man live in the womb of the God if the Godhead himself attends only to one-half of him?

This checks. It checks with everything I know about alchemy, in which the opposite principles of sulfur and mercury unite in the Chemical Wedding to produce a secret third thing, the Philosopher’s Stone, which is a perfect mix of both polarities. Jesus, as he is, is only one half of the equation. The new God is going to encompass both the light and the Shadow, the totality of existence and of the human soul. Haven’t I said this? I’m almost certain that I have said something to this effect in my answers before: Life is nuanced, so God is nuanced. The reason why I like my gods’ dark and terrifying sides is because they encompass the whole of life, with all of its aspects, and that this is more spiritually useful than focusing only on the good or light aspects of things. Dionysus in particular is a god that expresses and reconciles multiple dualities, like good/evil, above/below, male/female, life/death, divine/human. The Absolute must be all things, or it’s not the Absolute. To fixate only on the things that are light, good, and comfortable is insufficient.

Therefore after his death Christ had to journey to Hell, otherwise the ascent to Heaven would have become impossible for him. Christ first had to become his Antichrist, his underworldly brother. No one knows what happened during the three days Christ was in Hell. I have experienced it. The men of yore said that he had preached there to the deceased. What they say is true, but do you know how this happened? It was folly and monkey business, an atrocious Hell’s masquerade of the holiest mysteries.

I have to say, it’s pretty ballsy of Jung to say straight-up that he had the same harrowing experience as Jesus Christ and came out of it unscathed, but that’s also exactly what happened. He underwent the first part of the Great Work and descended into the Underworld, confronting and becoming his own Shadow, and finally rising to the surface again. This is a great and old Mystery, and one of the ones that I feel I’m familiar with. I’ve experienced it too.

Jung provides the reader with instructions for katabasis, which I’m once again going to transcribe in full:

If we do not have the depths, how do we have the heights? Yet you fear the depths, and do not want to confess that you are afraid of them. It is good, though, that you fear yourselves: say it out loud that you are afraid of yourselves. It is wisdom to fear oneself. Only the heroes say that they are fearless. But you know what happens to heroes. With fear and trembling, looking around yourselves with mistrust, go thus into the depths, but do not do this alone: two or more is greater security since the depths are full of murder. Also secure yourselves the way of retreat. Go cautiously as if you were cowards, so that you preempt the soul murderers. The depths would like to devour you whole and choke you in mud. He who journeys to Hell also becomes Hell; therefore do not forget from whence you come. The depths are stronger than us; so do not be heroes, be clever and drop the heroics, since nothing is more dangerous than to play the hero. The depths want to keep you; they have not returned very many up to now, and therefore men fled from the depths and attacked them. What if the depths, due to the assault, now change themselves into death? But the depths indeed have changed themselves into death; therefore when they awoke they inflicted a thousandfold death. We cannot slay death, as we have already taken all life from it. If we still want to overcome death, then we must enliven it. Therefore on your journey be sure to take golden cups full of the sweet drink of life, red wine, and give it to dead matter, so that it can win life back. The dead matter will change into black serpents. Do not be frightened, the serpents will immediately put out the sun of your days, and a night with wonderful will-o-the-wisps will come over you. Take pains to waken the dead. Dig deep mines and throw in sacrificial gifts, so that they reach the dead. Reflect in good heart upon evil, this is the way to the ascent. But before the ascent, everything is night and Hell. What do you think of the essence of Hell? Hell is when the depths come to you with all that you no longer are or are not yet capable of. Hell is when you can no longer attain what you could attain. Hell is when you must think and feel and do everything that you know you do not want. Hell is when you know that your having to is also a wanting to, and that you yourself are responsible for it. Hell is when you know that everything serious that you have planned with yourself is also laughable, that everything fine is also brutal, that everything good is also bad, that everything high is also low, and that everything pleasant is also shameful. But the deepest Hell is when you realize that Hell is also no Hell, but a cheerful Heaven, not a Heaven in itself, but in this respect a Heaven, and in that respect a Hell.

The Hero’s Journey is probably one of the most instantly-recognizable things to come out of Jungian psychology, but Jung kind of eviscerates the idea of the hero in The Red Book. If you try to be a hero — that is, if you try to match a particular ideal… well, you’ve seen what happens, haven’t you? The only way forward is to admit that you are not ideal, that you are dark and scary. You have no choice but to descend into your own Underworld and confront your own monsters. Bring a guide with you, and ensure you know the way out again, because the depths are hungry and they want to keep you — it’s not natural for souls to return from the Land of the Dead, so the Underworld will do everything it can to prevent you from leaving. The best thing is to be cautious and humble. Death itself cannot die (because it’s already dead, by definition), so the only way to overcome Death is to confront it with its opposite, which is life. When you get to the Underworld, the first thing you must do is reawaken dead matter with red wine (liquid life-force). The dead matter will turn into serpents that will blot out the sun. Sacrifice to the chthonic powers. Meditate upon evil.

That last bit in particular is counterintuitive, but it is the only way back up. That means allowing yourself to think, feel, do, and be everything that you normally want to disassociate from yourself. If you don’t want to be seen as evil, then you’ll be evil. If you don’t want to be seen as weak, then you’ll be weak. If you don’t want to be seen as foolish, then you’ll be foolish. And so on. You have to admit that you are responsible for every dark desire and evil impulse that you have had, that at least part of you actually does want to do evil things. Even if you feel compelled, even if you feel inclined to say “I did what I had to do” or some other half-assed justification, part of you does want to be evil. And that’s not some external force like demons or the Devil working on you, that is all you.

“Hell is when you know that everything serious that you have planned with yourself is also laughable, that everything fine is also brutal, that everything good is also bad, that everything high is also low, and that everything pleasant is also shameful.” This line once again addresses the general theme of inversion. In the Underworld, everything becomes its opposite, including everything about you — but all opposites are also the same thing. As above, so below. This line reminds me a lot of a similar, thematically-significant line from Macbeth: “Fair is foul and foul is fair.” The last inversion is that of Hell and Heaven itself, which brings to mind another very famous Early Modern English line, this time from Paradise Lost: “The mind is its own place, and in itself / can make a heav’n of Hell, a hell of Heav’n.”

The one arose from the melting together of the two. He was born as a child from my own human soul, which had conceived him with resistance like a virgin. Thus it corresponds to the image that the ancients have given to us.

Once again, a very alchemical image. Reminds me of this line from The Twelve Keys of Basil Valentine (I started doing an analysis of that ages ago, and I promise that I will get back to it): “But our Stone, as it has been bequeathed to me by the Ancients, is derived from two things, and one thing, in which is concealed a third thing.” The secred third thing is the Philosopher’s Stone, the Divine Child that unites all opposites and therefore becomes its own separate thing — neither red, nor blue, but purple.

Jung says how he worshipped his soul, believing her to be God, but he was actually worshipping the unborn God within the womb of the soul.

This section addresses the interpretation of the hero’s death as the death of an ideal:

The hero as we understand him has become an enemy of God, since the hero is perfection. The Gods envy the perfection of man, because perfection has no need of the Gods. But since no one is perfect, we need the Gods. The Gods love perfection because it is the total way of life. But the Gods are not with him who wishes to be perfect, because he is an imitation of perfection.

Again, really interesting that perfection is defined as a sort of opposite to divinity, instead of as divinity itself. Often, gods are defined as perfect beings, but here Jung places a sharp distinction between perfection and divinity. Here, perfection is defined as lacking any darkness, flaws, “incapacity,” or other Shadow traits. Gods are therefore not perfect, because gods are an even mix of conscious and Shadow traits. Perfection involves ignoring half of God. (This is probably why the Neoplatonic idea of gods as perfect beatific beings never really resonated for me.) Perfection is not only unattainable, it’s actually dangerous to try to achieve perfection. (A certain Dwarf in the Flask comes to mind.) The only thing one can really do is imitate it, and imitation amounts to nothing, because it makes you into a hollow facsimile of whatever you’re imitating, instead of self-actualized.

The new God laughs at imitation and discipleship. He needs no imitations and no pupils. He forces men through himself.

This God is no guru. He doesn’t instruct or preach. His worship is more experiential than theoretical. Worshipping him means being forced through oneself, forced to confront the internal world and the unconscious. You aren’t supposed to follow him, you’re supposed to follow yourself, and that’s a whole lot harder. About damn time.

The God must be within, not projected outside the self:

If we set a God outside of ourselves, he tears us loose from the self, since the God is more powerful than we are. Our self falls into privation. But if the God moves into the self, he snatches us from what it is outside us. We arrive at singleness in ourselves. So the God becomes communal in reference to what is outside us, but single in relation to us. No one has my God, but my God has everyone, including myself. The Gods of all individual men always have all other men, including myself. So it is always only the one God despite his multiplicity. You arrive at him yourself and only through your self seizing you. The hero must fall for the sake of our redemption, since he is the model and demands imitation. But the measure of imitation is fulfilled. We should become reconciled to solitude in ourselves and to the God outside of us. If we enter into this solitude then the life of the God begins. If we are in ourselves, then the space around us is free, but filled by the God.

I’m not sure I fully understand this, but here’s my take: If your fixation is on the external world, God will tear you away from yourself and you’ll fail at self-actualization. If God is within you, then you’ll be pulled inward, and you’ll have to do all the difficult work that Jung has been doing. As said before, God fills the empty space, so God is essentially a powerful vacuum that sucks you towards itself. The external God is communal, but the internal God is personal: Each individual person has their own conception of God within themselves, so God appears different to all of the different people. Your idea of God is completely unique to you. But from God’s perspective, all of these different unique Gods are still versions of itself. Therefore God is both one and many. (I would argue that God can be subdivided into many individual divinities within a person, but the point is that all people’s interpretations are different while also all amounting to the same thing.)

Your desire is the father of the God, your self is the mother of the God, but the son is the new God, your master. If you embrace your self, then it will appear to you as if the world has become cold and empty. The coming God moves into this emptiness. If you are in your solitude, and all the space around you has become cold and unending, then you have moved far from men, and at the same time you have come near to them as never before. Selfish desire only apparently led you to men, but in reality it led you away from them and in the end to yourself, which to you and to others was the most remote. But now you are in solitude, your God leads you to the God of others, and through hat to the true neighbor, to the neighbor of yourself in others. If you are in yourself, you become aware of your incapacity. You will see how little capable you are of imitating the heroes and of being a hero yourself. So you will also no longer force others to become heroes.

Spiritual work of this type is inherently isolating, which is why so many who attempt it are monks or suchlike that already isolate themselves for spiritual purposes. Speaking from experience, it is very difficult to engage with the external world when so much of me is floating around up in the astral realm. (The Internet is such a blessing in that sense, because it is a midway between the physical and non-physical worlds — it is wholly in the airy intellectual realm, but almost everyone on it is a real person who exists somewhere, so I’m still engaged with actual human beings.) The external world could also seem “cold” in comparison because the external goals you may have been chasing may seem like they no longer matter, like you’re living in the Matrix. Being drawn into yourself involves becoming acutely self-aware, but the advantage of self-awareness is that it will prevent you from projecting (either heroes or Shadows) onto other people, which will help you to see them as they really are. And that promotes empathy, which brings you closer to other people, and so on.

I’m really interested in what Jung would have thought of the Hero’s Journey concept…

Mysterium Encounter

So, Jung has successfully completed his journey to the Underworld. Now what? The next three sections concern a series of visions in which Jung meets an old man, Elijah, and a young woman, Salome, in a dark house with pillars and a bright garden. There’s also a black snake. Jung recounts his dialogues with these spirits in the form of a mystery play.

Elijah says that Salome is his daughter, and the source of his wisdom, and that is why she is blind. Jung is utterly disturbed by this. He cannot reconcile that Salome, the woman who requested that John the Baptist’s head be delivered to her on a platter, could be the daughter of a holy prophet. She asks him if he loves her, and Jung says, “I dread you, you beast.” In response, she asks him, “And what wouldn’t you give for a single look into the infinite unfolding of what is to come? Are these not worth a sin for you?” This is interesting to me, because it seems to suggest that sin is preferable, or even necessary, as part of the experience of acquiring divine knowledge. Honestly, that makes sense — mysticism and occultism tend to be transgressive in many ways, especially when they push against established religious doctrine. Jung’s reaction to Salome sort of reminds me of my reaction to the nightmare woman, except that Salome is not at all threatening to Jung. At least, not from my perspective. He seems to think she’s a wicked temptress. The Spirit of the Depths insists that Salome is divine, and Salome insists that Jung must love her.

Elijah and Salome’s partnership force Jung to question just about everything he knows about spirituality. The idea of the “bloodthirsty horror” being the daughter of the prophet, that they are in fact one being, is too much for Jung to bear. And yet, that falls right in line with the recurring theme of the union of opposites. Here are two extreme opposites, that Jung is being told are the same being. How’s he going to accept that? Hearing all this, he assumes he’s still in the Underworld. But he’s not.

After the dialogue is an interjection that insists to the reader that this is Jung’s own mystery, and that it does not apply to anyone else: “This play that I witnessed is my play, not your play. It is my secret, not yours. You cannot imitate me. My secret remains virginal and my mysteries are inviolable, they belong to me and cannot belong to you. You have your own.” Again, I feel validated and almost relieved to see this here, because it means that Jung isn’t trying to apply his personal experience on a universal scale. He recognizes that it applies only to himself. Go get your own mysteries!

He who enters into his own must grope through what lies at hand, he must sense his way from stone to stone. He must embrace the worthless and the worthy with the same love. A mountain is nothing, and a grain of sand holds kingdoms, or also nothing. Judgement must fall from you, even taste, but above all pride, even when it is based on merit. Utterly poor, miserable, unknowingly humiliated, go on through the gate. Turn your anger against yourself, since only you stop yourself from looking and from living. The mystery play is soft like air and thin smoke, and you are raw matter that is disturbingly heavy. But let your hope, which is your highest good and highest ability, lead the way and serve you as a guide in the world of darkness, since it is of like substance with the forms of that world.

This stream-of-consciousness mystical advice reads like instructions to initiates who dare to go through a similar experience to find their own mystery plays. I experience a lot of mystery dialogues in my free time, while I’m meditating by pacing back and forth, in this astral space where everything is volatile (in the alchemical sense) and I all but lose track of my heavy matter. Once again, one must accept what comes without judgement, especially if it involves seemingly-irreconcilable opposites. The line about hope reminds me of The Sandman, in which Hope is the form that Dream uses to win The Oldest Game. It wins because even Hope has power in Hell, and can’t be snuffed out.

There’s an illustration of Elijah and Salome, in front of their pillared house. Elijah wears blue and Salome wears red. The black snake is at their feet. The figure representing Jung is once again a dark-skinned man in white, with shoulder-length black hair. Decorating the border is blue light on the left side, and red tendrils on the right side that coil around the beams of light. I think it’s safe to assume that the light represents Elijah and the tentacles represent Salome.

The scene of the mystery play is a deep place like the crater of a volcano. My deep interior is a volcano, that pushes out the fiery-molten mass of the unformed and the undifferentiated. Thus my interior gives birth to the children of chaos, of the primordial mother. He who enters the crater also becomes chaotic matter, he melts. The formed in him dissolves and binds itself anew with the children of chaos, the powers of darkness, the ruling and the seducing, the compelling and the alluring, the divine and the devilish. These powers stretch beyond my certainties and limits on all sides, and connect me with all forms and with all distant beings and things, through which inner tidings of their being and their character develop in me. Because I have fallen into the source of chaos, into the primordial beginning, I myself become smelted anew in the connection with the primordial beginning, which at the same time is what has been and what is becoming. At first I come to the primordial beginning in myself. But because I am a part of the matter and formation of the world, I also come into the primordial beginning of the world in the first place. I have certainly participated in life as someone formed and determined, but only through my formed and determined consciousness and through this in a formed and determined piece of the whole world, but not in the unformed and undetermined aspects of the world that likewise are given to me. Yet it is given only to my depths, not to my surface, which is formed and determined consciousness.

This is a powerful image. Because mystical visions are predicated on madness to some extent, they are a raw outpouring of pure chthonic material, primordial Khaos at its finest. Engaging with it requires alchemical dissolution or ego death. Everything that is “formed” (i.e. fixed) in you dissolves or “melts” into the prima materia, and is reformed, having been infused with underworldly divine power. This is more or less participation in the primordial process of creation itself. Consciousness interacts only with the “formed and determined,” i.e. fixed, aspects of existence. So, you need your depths to engage with the unformed and undetermined, i.e. volatile, aspects of existence.

Most of the rest of this chapter is an analysis of what Elijah and Salome represent, even though Elijah explicitly stated that they do not represent anything. Jung interprets them as representing the dual faculties of “precognition and pleasure,” or thinking and feeling. Yup, this is where the thinking/feeling axis on the MBTI test comes from! It comes from Jung trying to make sense of this particular vision. Jung says that “Both are equally old and in nature intimately one,” and interprets the serpent as representing a mediator between the two. Some people are more inclined towards thinking, and others towards feeling, but you need some degree of both to avoid falling out of balance. Jung assumes that because he’s a thinking person, he fears Salome. My bet is, that’s not why. I think he fears Salome because he struggles to see divinity in a stereotypically “evil” figure. He’s struggling against his conditioning that pleasure is evil.

I’m not going to go through Jung’s analysis of the specific symbols in his vision, because to be honest, very little of it resonates for me. Jung does not interpret these visions the way I would, and I think that much of his interpretation misses the obvious because he’s trying so hard to force a disturbing truth into a comfortable framework. But, it’s not my vision or my mystery, so I’m not going to tell him he’s wrong.

Instruction

Jung goes back to Elijah’s house the next night. He says to Elijah,

I have toyed with myself enough. I played hypocritical games with myself and they all would have disgusted me, were it not clever to perform what others expect of me. It seems to me as if I were more real here [in the dream world]. And yet I do not like being here.

I completely relate to the sensation of feeling more real in my dream world than I do in the physical world. I definitely feel like that. But I don’t feel as unsettled in my dream world as Jung does at Elijah and Salome’s house. Jung recognizes that most of his life in the external world involves “hypocritical games,” doing things that don’t really resonate and aren’t really meaningful for the sake of propriety and fitting within the societal expectations that have been set for him. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t seem comfortable in either world.

I forgot to mention that there is a scrying crystal inside the house. Previously, Jung saw the Garden of Eden and Odysseus with the sirens in the crystal. This time, he sees Mary with baby Jesus, St. Peter, the Pope, then Buddha, then Kali.

Elijah provides Jung with some good advice about thoughts that I could use. Jung says that thoughts are dangerous because men confuse them with themselves, and Elijah says:

Will you therefore confuse yourself with a tree or animal because you look at them and because you exist with them in the same world? Must you be your thoughts, because you are in the world of your thoughts? But your thoughts are just as much outside your self as trees and animals are outside your body.

Because I live in my thoughts, my thoughts cause me a lot of trouble. Thoughts that cause me shame are particularly awful, because I feel like just having the thought reflects badly on me, when really only an action would reflect badly on me. The idea of thought as something separate from myself, something that exists around me as nature physically exists around me, is genuinely good therapeutic advice. (Therapeutic advice from the work of a psychotherapist? You don’t say!) I shouldn’t take my thoughts seriously, or interpret them as expressions of my identity.

Salome calls herself Jung’s sister. He asks who their mother is, and she says that it is Mary. It’s getting worse! Jung is absolutely sent reeling by this revelation:

Is it a hellish dream? Mary, our mother? What madness lurks in your words? The mother of our Savior, our mother? When I crossed your threshold today, I foresaw calamity. Alas! It has come. Are you out of your senses, Salome?

I sort of relate, in that it can be extremely difficult to think that you actually are that special. It seems the height of hubris to claim to be the child of a powerful goddess (yes, I’m calling Mary a goddess, because she functions like one), even when your spirits explicitly tell you that this is the case.

Jung tries to rationally make sense of it by continuing to insist that Elijah and Salome and Mary are symbols that he hasn’t interpreted yet. This is Elijah’s response:

You may call us symbols for the same reason that you can also call your fellow men symbols. But we are just as real as your fellow men. You invalidate nothing and solve nothing calling us symbols. […] We are certainly what you would call real. Here we are, and you have to accept us. The choice is yours.

Daaamn. Of course, Jung insists on interpreting Elijah and Salome as symbols of the “thinking” and “feeling” principles anyway. The idea of the actual entities Elijah and Salome being the same being freaks him out too much. This is one of the big reasons why I think that his interpretations throughout these three chapters are wrong. He can only process all of this by interpreting it as symbolic language as opposed to taking it at face value, because he can’t make sense of it any other way.

If you do not acknowledge your yearning, then you do not follow yourself, but you go on foreign ways that others have indicated to you. So you do not live your life but an alien one. But who should live your life if you do not live it? It is not only stupid to exchange your own life for an alien one, but also a hypocritical game, because you can never really live the life of others, you can only pretend to do it, deceiving the other and yourself, since you can only live your own life. […] To live oneself means: To be one’s own task. Never say that it is a pleasure to live oneself. It will be no joy but a long suffering, since you must become your own creator. If you want to create yourself, then you do not begin with the best and the highest, but with the worst and the deepest. The flowing together of the stream of life is not joy but pain, since it is power against power, guilt and shatters the sanctified.

Good advice in general. Pay attention to what you really want out of life, not what society says you should want. If you only do what everyone around you says you should and acquire what they say you should want, then you’re living someone else’s life instead of your own. No one else is going to live your life for you, and you can’t live anyone else’s life either. So embrace your own desires, and live your own life. That’s not an easy thing, because you have to do the work to reinvent yourself in your own image instead of following someone else’s self-help guidebook (literal or figurative). And you have to begin by doing Shadow work, which is extremely difficult. Everything that you hold sacred will likely ring hollow throughout that process, because you won’t see it in the same way until you can find divinity for yourself.

As the God developed in me, I thought he was a part of my self. I thought that my “I” included him and therefore I took him for my thought. But I also considered that my thoughts were parts of my “I.” Thus I entered into my thoughts, and into the thinking about the God, in that I took him for a part of my self. […] Therefore you love reasonable and orderly thoughts, since you could not endure it if your self was in disordered, that is, unsuitable thoughts. Through your selfish wish, you pushed out of your thoughts everything that you do not consider ordered, that is, unfitting. You create order according to what you know, you do not know the thoughts of chaos, and yet they exist.

Jung confused the developing God for an aspect of himself, just as he worshipped the soul believing it was God. Because he hates thoughts that he considers disorganized or unreasonable, he roots out all the thoughts that don’t fit his projection of what God should be. Where does all the “disordered” thought end up? The Shadow.

My thoughts are not my self, but exactly like the things of the world, alive and dead. Just as I am not damaged through living in a partly chaotic world, so too I am not damaged if I live in my partly chaotic thought world. Thoughts are natural events that you do not possess, and whose meaning you only imperfectly recognize. Thoughts grow in me like a forest, populated by many different animals. But man is domineering in his thinking, and therefore he kills the pleasure of the forest and that of the wild animals. Man is violent in his desire, and he himself becomes a forest and a forest animal. Just as I have freedom in the world, I also have freedom in my thoughts.

This is good advice for me personally. My thoughts can be scary and chaotic, but they do not damage me. I love the image of thoughts being like a forest. I should just enjoy my time amongst the wild things, and the absolute freedom that my thoughts give me, without any shame.

Resolution

Jung dreams that he is standing on a ridge in a wasteland, with day on one side and night on the other. A black snake is on the night side, and a white snake is on the day side. They fight each other, with Elijah watching from above. The black snake’s head turned white, and they both curled around themselves.

Jugn and Elijah climb to a stone circle that is the Temple of the Sun. Elijah turns into Mime (a dwarf from Wagner’s The Ring). Mime brings Jung to springs in a cave, that confer wisdom on those who drink from them. Jung doesn’t trust Mime, and leaves the cave without drinking, feeling discombobulated, and follows a snake to Elijah’s house. He sees a series of visions in the crystal, ending with Christ on the cross with the black serpent coiled about the base. The serpent coils around Jung’s own feet, and up his body — he turns into Aion/Arimanius, the Mithraic lion-headed god. Salome says, “You are Christ.”

This is an amazingly profound experience. Jung experiences the mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection directly, and experiences it in the form of a pagan deity, the primordial creator god Aion or Phanes. In a way, it is the ultimate Mystery. It goes back to what Jung said before about how Christians should not deny that Jesus is a part of them, that you yourself are Christ. That is why Mary is named as Jung’s mother, because he is not separate from Christ.

If you are aggravated against your brother, think that you are aggravated against the brother in you, that is, against what in you is similar to your brother. As a man, you are part of mankind, and therefore you have a share in the whole of mankind, as if you were the whole of mankind. If you overpower and kill your fellow man who is contrary to you, then you also kill that person in yourself and have murdered a part of your life. The spirit of this dead man follows you and does not let your life become joyful. You need your wholeness to live onward.

This is just a lesson on projection again, but I like the phrasing. We’re all one being, all incarnations of the Divine, so any harm we do against each other is harm against the corresponding parts of ourselves. You can’t experience any authentic joy, or really live at all, with that sort of burden. That’s what makes Shadow work worth it.

If you go to thinking, take your heart with you. If you go to love, take your head with you.

I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole thinking/feeling dichotomy, but I like this phrase.

I saw a new God, a child, who subdued daimons in his hand. The God holds the separate principles in his power, he unites them. The God develops through the union of the principles in me. He is their union.

Not much to say about this that I haven’t already said, except that I’m once again reminded of Dionysus, who unites all opposites and commands all daimons. I feel like I can get myself there. Maybe I already am. It feels good to unite opposites in oneself; it’s hard to do, but once you’ve done it, it feels comfortable and fulfilling.

Jung interprets WWI as people learning self-sacrifice, Christ’s mystery, which will teach them to look inward. “The spirit of the depths has seized mankind and forces self-sacrifice upon it.”

That's the end of Liber Primus! I'll start posting the sections of my commentary on Liber Secundus soon. There's more very cool art to come!

#the red book #the red book jung #carl jung #jungian psychology #symbols #archetypes #shadow work #mysticism #occult #occultism #jungian archetypes #long post #analysis #commentary #liber novus #illuminated manuscript #mystical experiences #mystical art #tw murder

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