#death itself is used as a form of justice

[duskyrobbyn42]

Btw Hamlet isn’t about action vs inaction. It’s about justice and mortality and equating vengeance with love. In case anyone was wondering.

[sleepy-grav3]

The Moon Child - Part 1

Part 2

A/n: There's a bunch of batfam adoptions, let's switch it up a bit.

Summary Background info: Danny died fully to the GIW. His class noticed when Danny disappeared and think his parents killed him. The city now believes he lives among the stars. On the same day Danny died, however, the moon was smashed to bits and rained down asteroids into the ocean and land of Earth. The Lanterns replace it with a new moon. The ocean life believes that the moon's spirit will not like being replaced.

Tw: Bad parents, depression, dissociation, vivisection scars, past death, discrimination, angst, hurt/comfort

Danny is a full ghost and looks like a child because that's all his core can expend; Danny becomes a moon spirit. Aquaman/Arthur is the movie version, the fun upbeat guy, not the serious one.

The Moon Child Part 1 - Strong Beliefs Come to Life

When the moon was destroyed, the Lanterns had agreed to send over a new one to make sure the Earth didn't destroy itself without the Moon to guide the oceans. It wasn't difficult to get one, though it was a lot of paperwork.

But when it was done, the Justice League thought that was it. Batman, being the paranoid man he was, demanded those with cities near a beach and Aquaman to report regularly about any changes in the ocean with the new moon while he checks other things that would be affected by it. They didn't bother to argue, as their luck always had it that peace was never a lasting thing. So the extra precaution was fine, but they didn't think anything of it after a few weeks of nothing happening.

The ocean life thought otherwise. Unlike the beings on land, who worship the sun, the beings in the ocean believed in the moon. Legends, myths, and many beliefs surrounding the moon's corpse that had mostly fell in their waters had risen.

The Moon is not meant to be replaced

The Moon is not like the others

The Moon will believe we did not care

The Moon will return and haunt these waters

-

Cries echoed in the dark of night. Moonstones guided the way to the origin of said sobs that were as powerful as the sirens' voice. Yet what the sirens attracted was lust, not melancholy.

Those who followed them would begin to see a dim light grow brighter and brighter, but never irritate. Instead, it would bring a wave of sorrowful tranquility.

When they reached the origin, they would see a small child holding their tail that faded in solidity. Their hair as white as how the moon used to be. Their skin as pale as a human who had died in freezing temperatures. And their eyes a beautiful silver that matched the stones that trailed away from them.

They wore loose and poofy at the bottom pants that matched a dark night sky and a translucent veil that had constellations move around the dark blue fabric. His upper body was bare, and he covered it with the veil, which darkened when wrapped to shield his body from being seen. (think Egyptian dancer)

And that's when the creatures of the ocean had a realization. Their deity was too kind to exact revenge for the blasphemy. Their pain was not one to simply end in an instant.

The Moon has returned, and they are not angered.

They thought they were replaceable, disposable. As if they never mattered.

The Moon has returned to world that acted ungrateful for what they had done to protect it. To a world who simply replaced them for another.

They felt like all they did was for nothing. Like nothing they had done ever mattered in the end.

The Moon did not have a welcomed return. And they decided to express it alone, as if nobody would care to comfort them.

-

Arthur never believed in ghosts. Not until now as he gazed upon the spirit of the moon who had taken the form of a small child with a wisp for a tail and was crying moonstones.

The seafolk had all voiced their guilt on how they cursed at the humans and aliens, speaking how the spirit of the moon would enact their revenge. They felt guilty that they had ever thought their deity would ever stoop as low as those disgraceful humans. For their deity was kind. They were perfect. And they always looked after them when they could, even appearing in the day no matter how much strength it took.

The Ocean was meant to be the Moon's temple.

And as the King of the Ocean, it was his duty to take in the Moon and shelter them in their time of need.

"Child."

The child jumped, turning with wide, teary eyes at him. Arthur smiled gently.

"Greetings. I've heard that you've been here for a while now. It... it must've hurt badly."

The child seemed to have a flash of pain from the memory alone, tightening their arms around their wispy tail.

"What they did to you was unacceptable and inhumane. You were alive and looking after so many who could not save themselves."

More stones splashed into the water.

"You saved them, save everyone and they repaid that by hurting you. Killing you. Attempting to end you. It was a crime and yet... yet they got off light. It was a crime and they thought nothing of it."

The spirit relaxed, eyes gazing at him in disbelief and awe.

"I'm sorry we weren't able to save you. I'm sorry I couldn't prevent such a blasphemous act."

They smiled softly at him and let go of their tail, flying over to him.

"I'm still here." Their voice echoed. "I can still protect everyone."

Arthur took a breath and reached his hand out, placing it on the child's head.

"Please, let me do the protecting this time."

The child of the moon teared up once more, smile now shaky.

"Okay." They whispered. "I'll trust you."

And with that, the child shined just a bit more brightly before their form retreated into a spherical oval with the New Moon glyph floating inside. He cupped his hands together, letting the moonstone with the height of 2 quarters and the width and depth of 1 descend into them. Upon observation, he noticed the moon glyph shift to always present itself in the direction of those who gazed upon them.

"I have to report this to the league." Arthur thought, worried about what they'd do if they discover the spirit on their own.

-

Pain, that was all he felt. Even after his core had been carved and crushed, he still felt the excruciating agony of it. And now he revived again, feeling the aftershocks, the phantom pains.

His core was straining itself to even let him stay out of it, willing him to retreat. But he couldn't risk being found. He couldn't risk a curious person deciding to carve him again.

That was... until this man came. A hero, one that ruled over the oceans and seas, came to him and apologized for not saving him. someone who wasn't even close to him, who shouldn't have even known about him, had felt guilty about his death. And he stayed and he begged for him to come with him. He bled out the promise of safety. Of recognition. He... wanted to protect Danny.

A hero who protected the beings of his waters wanted to protect him, a ghost.

Danny was starting to think humans really were inferior to other beings. Be it aliens... or seafolk. Atlanteans. Ha! To think an Atlantean cared more about him, who was a half human and human ghost, than a human ever could.

It hurt.

It hurt to think about.

But it hurt more to try to reject it. So, he accepted that this stranger, this hero who probably didn't even believe he could exist, was willing to protect him like nobody ever had. Like nobody ever could. Like nobody ever would.

His core will be safe with him. He will be safe with him.

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

A/n: Well... that was a thing. Poor Danny.... He was never actually acknowledged. But oh well. The next one's about him meeting the family and getting coddled.

Also, if you're thinking about the movie's Aquaman having a baby... well he's dead. Black Manta killed him through suffocation or whatever like the wiki says. So that's why he wasn't mentioned.

Part 2

[bluetooththereptile]

Unwelcomed embrace (part two)

Yandere super family x neglected reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: this one shot is continuation of this one.

Tw: mentions of violence

"Why don't you have one of those small micro earphones that you attach to the collar of the clothing?" You groaned as you tried to find a good position to rest your hand on under the weight of the mic in your hand, you sighed as you looked at its round head, you didn't like it that much, it felt uneasy in your palm. The chair was too rigid for you to sit comfortably on it, creaking under your weight. You looked down at the mic that had a sock on as a muffler, smiling at the inventiveness of the reporter. "I presume your budget is not that much huh?" The reporter nodded with a sheepish smile as he tried to put on some powder to conceal some of the scar marks on your face, well, as much as your skin color let him do so. "Yeah..." he sighed "the budget is low."

You looked at him, focused on his task, young and ambitious, just like you, you felt like he had the same recklessness as well, why would a sane person come and meet a dangerous anti-hero over a post on Twitter? "Ready?" He asked as he adjusted his camera, you shifted on your seat once more, checking the dark background of the warehouse you were in, and then looked back at the shiny lens of the camera. You paused, still, your hand didn't have a good place to rest its elbow on, huffing in irritation, you rolled your eyes, you had to do something about it, if it kept irritating you, you'd end up messing everything up. So you focused on the cemented floor below, making a thick-bodied plant sprout out of the harsh floor and bend towards you, its leaves forming a cocoon, you smirked and put the mic on the head of the plant and used it as a stand, chuckling at the amazement of the reporter "Now I'm ready!"

"1...2...3..." the reporter spoke softly before the camera started filming and the red light on its front started blinking. "Alright, please introduce yourself..." he spoke to you behind the camera, tapping his pen nervously, you hummed to yourself and tapped your chin as you crossed your legs, trying to find a point to start from "I feel like a Podcaster now..." you joked, before clearing your throat as you started "Well, I'm what media used to call the "Green super" You used quotation marks in the air, your voice showing hints of your initial irritation to the name, which had associated you with superman since your powers were nearly the same. "But now I go with the Green Death, pretty cheesy, but I like it" you chuckled and continued "Well the name is not that far off from my personality either, I am green, my skin is that color."

"So, Green Death, your name has been on the news as the sole force that has kept the Armageddon from happening, twice, already, and now you, all of a sudden, while you had ignored the chance of interviewing with huge media broadcasters, have decided to have an interview now, here in the middle of nowhere, why is that?" You rubbed your chin as you thought about a response, your lips tilting upwards in a smirk "Well, now I have enough evidence to finally show the world who the heroes truly are." You paused, taking it the confused expression of the reporter, adding quickly "Make no mistake, I'm not going to expose their identities, that would make hell break loose, I just simply want to shed a much more different light on them and their actions. As you may know, I was a part of the young Justice League and then Justice League itself for a few years, and I'm the result of a 'heroic affair' myself, so I'd have a very different insight on them..."

"Why though? I mean we pretty much know about the heroes..." You let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in your seat "Well, that is sort of true, but tell me, do you know of the assaults and different crimes that have happened by their hands? For example, do you know Batman has kidnapped nearly three people and has erased their documents out of the system, making them vanish into thin air, never to be seen?" The reporter's eyes widened at that, your smirk turned into a wide smile as you continued "I have both the video footage and documents of it happening..."

"B-but why do you want to expose them for their deeds, knowing well you are fully aware of what they can do, surely they don't want anyone to know that... " "I have exposed the bad guys of the story already, my mother is after me because of that, so I don't think exposing the heroes would be any different...the world has to know who they truly are!"

You were hellbent on tarnishing the images of the heroes once and for all.

Since the time you had left the Justice League, your life had changed a lot, just within two years, you had gone from being a hero to a villain and then to an anti-hero, a cruel topsy turvey irony. It all had started with your mother finally owning up to her parenting role and had found you in your most vulnerable state when you were struggling to pass your days in your trailer. She took you in and tried in her twisted way to help you, for a short period you felt like you had a family, she seemed genuinely nice. But a few months later, you ended up joining the dark force, how? You still were not sure, all you could remember was your mother's voice echoing in your mind as she puffed a shiny dust in your face, and you shaking hands with the Darkseid himself as he had that disgusting grin on his face. It was after that night that you found out that bitch had manipulated you into joining the bad guys, well who wouldn't want to have a version of Superman in their league that wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite? At first, you tried to pretend that you did want to hurt people just for the fun of it, in your mind, you were taking revenge on your father, who looked devastated whenever you had joint missions with your new teammates.

Well, you couldn't deny that the sheer rush of dopamine you felt was great, no rules were there to hold you back, just destroy and enjoy, the loot was lucrative as well. But, still, something in the back of your mind nagged and you couldn't overlook that you hated hurting vulnerable people and you couldn't do it anymore, so at a very crucial mission, you ended up killing all of your teammates before fleeing. You gave your mother a good beating up before you dropped her on the Arkham's doors and then vanished into an abandoned base until things became normal. After that your way of life became of an anti-hero, you didn't want to admit it but annoying the heroes was fun, at least you weren't killing vulnerable people. You did what they couldn't do, you fought without rules and the results were more drastic.

But you wanted to roast your father more, you wanted to make him burn, and what was better than exposing him? "As for Superman, he at least has killed more than 100 people in his missions, the government has already covered that up but I have the proof...flash has caused a climate change that ended up ruining agriculture of the whole world for a year, resulting in famines, Aquaman has sunk a few ships, that were NOT of military-related, killing civilians, also, Wonder woman has kidnapped a few people...and so on and so forth." You started warming up, mentioning more and more of what you knew.

The reporter took note as you spoke, and you were liking the role of the one exposing the hidden secrets of the heroes. You were actually enjoying it too much, so much in fact that your super-human sense didn't detect the flight of Superman and Superboy coming to your location at a bullet-like speed. And within seconds they both crashed into the warehouse Kool-Aid style, making a huge impact.

You were quick to react, using your laser eyes to attack Super Boy, but Conner was quick to dodge, Clark quickly pulled the reporter out of the range of the fight and out of sight, he let Bruc take care of the reporter and his evidence later, now he had you, his troubling child that was now entering dangerous waters. Conner and you fought, trashing the warehouse even further, you didn't know why but Conner's grin was getting on your nerves already.

The two supers had a plan of taking you down, and it was going pretty smoothly, going just as planned, you grew to angry and Conner used it to his advantage, pinning you down by a broken pillar, giving Clark enough time so he could throw the pollen towards you, damn it! How the hell they had gotten their hands on the special pollen that your mother had created just for controlling you?! You tried to not breathe, but the bitter taste of it already had formed in your mouth, making your mind go foggy. Damn it! Damn it!!!!!!

"We need to talk..." Clark's voice echoed in your mind, your vision was so distorted that you could only see the silhouette of your father approaching you "And we need to talk properly!" His voice made your heart skip...uh oh...Clark was serious.

[spacedace]

Had a dc x dp brain worm, feel free to use as a prompt <3

Sidenote, I decided to get fancy with the Ancients titles because of course I did lol

Shifting Where = Space (Danny)

Eternal When = Time (Clockwork)

Ever Onward = Speedforce (Ellie)

---

Bruce watched the footage again.

And again.

Again.

It didn’t make sense.

A week ago every television, radio, computer, phone - even the LED billboards - had been taken over to deliver a message. Across the United States. In every territory it held. Every military base. Down in the depths of the oceans where American submarines tried to creep past Atlantian patrols. In the endless cold white of Antarctica. Even far above in the International Space Station. Any place the United States Government had control over, any place one of its citizens found themselves. There was the message.

The face of an entity, human in shape but not in form. Hair as gleaming white as starlight, eyes bright as the twisting dance of the Aurora Borealis, skin as cold and blue as the tail of a comet. The entity wore armor as black as the depths of space with a crown to match, the later glinting and shifting with the twisting birth and death of galaxies. A cloak of nebulae danced down his shoulders, eclipsing the world beyond the entity entirely.

He named himself, jaw tight, expression serious.

High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms.

The Shifting Where. Son of the Eternal When. Father of the Ever Onward. His Epitaphs many and ever growing. The True Balance. The Bridge Between. The Devourer of Dark. The Last Child of Between. The Great One.

King of the Dead. King of the Infinite Worlds. King of so much more than Bruce had ever even known was possible.

King who had declared war. Who marshaled his endless armies. Who spoke of warnings, of efforts to reach a peace, of trying again and again and again to find a way to not plunge into violence and bloodshed. All things living come to call him King in time, he had no want or need to go out and hurry that along. But there were no options left to him now. He had tried for peace. He had been denied.

He would not see his people suffer any longer. Would not see those he’d sworn to lead and protect imprisoned by fools who had sworn themselves enemies to all the afterlives. Would no longer permit the vicious cruelty to continue.

The message was a final warning.

A final offer.

Three days, Phantom said. The United States government would have three days to release their prisoners, to begin the process of dismantling the laws that made death itself an illegal act.

If they refused, he would lead his endless armies personally in the war to come.

It had not been an idle threat.

Three days after the message, after Bruce and the rest of the Justice League scrambled to try and figure out just what it was it was all about, after Justice League Dark’s members shakily took turns explaining just how powerful the being that had gave that message was and how much danger the world was in should he and his armies march upon their world, war came.

Of all places, it began in a town in Illinois.

The sky shattered like broken glass above, Lazarus Green beyond, and the Dead poured out.

It started in Illinois.

It did not end there.

Bruce watched the footage of it all, eyes burning as he watched every second of CCTV footage, every shaky phone camera video, every news broadcast.

Most of them looked human enough. Changed in death, but recognizably human once. A pair of glowing teenagers on a motorcycle, a writhing shadow twisting about at their command sweeping chaos upon the battlefield. A young woman dressed to perform with hair a literal flame, burning bright blue and snapping furiously as she played devastation upon her enemies with her guitar. A child with corpse gray skin and luminescent green hair, flickering in and out of Bruce’s ability to see as if fighting against a law of existence to be visible, screaming orders to a skeleton crew from his place on deck of a 1700s ship that sailed through the sky, disappearing into clouds before raining down attacks from above.

There was more. Glowing skeletons dressed in the fashions of war spanning every culture going back millennia. Robots with weapons far beyond the technology they had even in the League. Creatures of myth and legend. Things of nightmares.

Leading them all, as he had promised, was Phantom.

He looked younger, smaller. Just a boy, really, a gangly teenager that hadn’t quite finished growing into himself. One holding power beyond anything Bruce could ever imagine, but still just a child as far as he could see, no older than Tim who’d just graduated high school. Frantic research found Phantom appearing as far back as human history, but those sightings had to have been after his death. Bruce can’t help but wonder how young the boy had been when he died, how much of that youth still clung to him through all these eons.

It wasn’t something he’d let him self consider normally, not with something like this.

A dangerous unknown appearing without warning and attacking with unimaginable power and seemingly endless forces. It was something that would normally eclipse everything else. Something that would make Bruce put aside the ache at seeing a face so young twisted in rage.

But.

He watched all the footage.

Civilians were put in the crossfire. Were shot at and endangered. Were left terrified and scrambling for safety in buildings that were rapidly being torn away by stray artillery.

But never by Phantom or his armies.

The dead, in fact, went very far out of their way to ensure civilians weren’t harmed. Sweeping people up out of the way of falling debris. Shielding them from attacks that would have most certainly killed a normal human. Some dead even helped evacuate, ushering a frightened and panicked populous to safety as gently as they were capable of. Some of the less human creatures - giant bear-like beings with horns and fangs and ice edging their burly frames - even rushed forward to offer medical aid.

When the sky shattered open and the armies of the dead swept in, they ignored the town below. They focused instead on what was discovered later to be the base of a secretive government agency. The dead’s fight focused on those individuals in sharp white suits, bearing weapons capable of actually injuring King Phantom’s people.

It was these agents that brought the fight to the streets to Amity Park. That fired recklessly and without thought or care to the casualties they could inflict. That didn’t seem to care if they killed a hundred civilians if it meant hurting just one of Phantom’s soldiers.

Bruce watched all the footage.

And again.

Again.

Phantom had declared war.

Phantom spoke in his message of being out of options, of attempting peace. Phantom gave three days time for the release of captives. Phantom lead armies who fought viciously but never once willingly harmed civilians.

Phantom declared war, but he didn’t want it.

“Amanda Waller has reached out.”

Bruce didn’t turn his attention from the screens before him, eyes burning as he followed Phantom as the King dove away from the middle of locked combat to shield a child from a pulse of green energy from something like a grenade another agent in white had carelessly thrown. The child was crying but unharmed. The left pauldron of Phantom’s armor cracked and shattered from a direct shot from the enemy he’d just been fighting that he’d turned his back on, a glowing green liquid uncomfortably like Lazarus Water dripped down from a smoldering wound.

Clark stepped up to stand beside him as he watched, face worn and tired. The League had missed the first battle, but they’d been quick to appear at the rest. Phantom and his army ignored them unless they put themselves purposefully in the way of the fight. They were, as Justice League Dark had warned, vastly out powered by the entities fighting. A hulking giant knight made of shadow riding a nightmarish steed had driven Clark six feet down into the dirt when he’d attempted to make his way to Phantom directly to try and talk to the king.

The depth Clark had ended up felt like a warning of what would happen if he tried to get close to the king again.

It probably was.

“She said they have intel for us.” A faint twitch of fingers, jaw clenching, voice flat in that way that told Bruce his old friend was fighting back anger with everything he had. “That she has options for how to deal with the insurgence.”

Bruce shut off the monitors.

He’d seen enough.

Now was time to get answers to just what, exactly, Amanda Waller and the US government had done to cause the Dead to rise and rage.

---

Part Two Part Three Part Four

[whitejays-galaxy]

Designing the entire disaster lineage as cats🐱(Reupload)

I accidentally made some design errors, so I had to redo them... To make up for my mistake, there's a small surprise in the end ^^

The disaster lineage:

This is their actual size chart

My favorite trio:

Dooky and Quiggs becuz they deserve more love:

Ref sheets:

Horizonstar/step(Yoda): 

Name Meaning:

"Horizon" carried the meaning of him being the leader of his clan, a beacon of light in the distance, "Step" meant he was always one step ahead of his clanmates, thus using his knowledge and power to help his cats.

Frostshard(Dooku): 

Name Meaning:

I chose "Frost" because of his cold, collected, haughty demeanor, and "Shard", his presence being able to hurt others, like when you touch a broken shard of glass. It also represents his sharpness.

Sagepelt(Qui-Gon-Jinn):

Name Meaning:

"Sage" symbolizes his wisdom of the living Force, spiritual sanctity, vice, and virtue, which some knights thought he was delusional, while others respected his high moral standards.

If you look at a sage plant, the leaves are fuzzy, and they often grow in large swishing bushels, hence the suffix "Pelt"

Hazeldusk(Obi-Wan-Kenobi):

Pls ignore his traumatized face

Anyway

Name Meaning:

I chose "Hazel" because of his pelt color and warm/comforting personality. "Dusk" has a deeper meaning; Hazel trains Skyfire, who turns to the dark side and brings Dawnclan's legacy to an end; therefore, Hazel teaches the one who brought the "Dusk" of Dawnclan's era.

Skyfire(Anakin Skywalker): 

Name Meaning:

I chose "Sky" because of his godlike abilities, for in many countries and religions, the sky was where the gods lived, "Fire" because of him being ferocious yet warm/loving like a small bit of flame in a hearth. It also foreshadows how he would fall, consumed into flames.

Tawnyrain(Ahsoka-Tano):

Name Meaning:

I chose "Tawny" because of her pelt color, and "Rain", symbolizes her abandoning the teachings of Dawnclan when she goes into exile, like the rain washing over dust and grime, the corruption of Dawnclan ways, coated over her innocence and pure heart. 

Long yap incoming...

<Lore>

<Dawnclan/ The Jedi Order>

Dawnclan was created over a thousand years ago by four Force-sensitive cats: Sunspirit(Cala Brin), Tigerblaze(Rajivari), Valorsoul(Garon Jard), and Eclipseshadow(Ters Sendon). 

"True justice cannot be driven by emotion. We knights can set our passions aside, and seek the truth without fear or favor." - Sunspirit

"When Dawnclan's order began, I saw we must be dedicated to peace. To calm our emotions, and end war across the galaxy. If we fought, it should only be in self-defense. That is the founding principle of civilization." - Valorsoul

"So much is fleeting. But I remain. And I remain the cat I was." - Tigerblaze

"I am Eclipseshadow, keeper of the histories. A founder, and chronicler, of Dawnclan." - Eclipseshadow

<About Dawnclan>

-They walk the dreams of their ancestors in Starclan, a clan created by the light side of the Force.

-A Force-Sensitive kit is taken to the temple at a very young age, training in the basic forms of dueling.

-Padawans(apprentices) train for approximately two years with their assigned Master, the names usually ending with a 'Paw'(a universal suffix meaning apprentice or student)

-Knights must at least have trained an apprentice before they can be selected for the Dawnclan Council, a group of the most talented cats.

-A Dawnclan knight is forbidden to take a mate or have kits.

<The Dawnclan Code>

There is no Emotion, there is Peace

There is no Ignorance, there is Knowledge

There is no Passion, there is Serenity

There is no Chaos, there is Harmony

There is no Death, there is the Force

<Darkhaven/ The Sith Order>

It is hard to know the birth of Darkhaven, yet one thing is for sure, evil has lurked since no beginning nor end.

The official name of these dark warriors was created by Hellfire, a soulless she-cat whom many say was the embodiment of evil itself.

The Fate Wars, the first great war in the Galaxy, led to the victory of the knights of Dawnclan, who built their main camp on the ruins of Darkhaven.

After the events of the Fate Wars, two more happened during the history of the Galaxy: 

The first was the Cold War: in which former Darkhavener Corvidheart(Darth Revan) challenged the Emperor Vortexvoid(Emperor Vitalle) to reclaim balance on both sides.

The second was the Grey Wars: Darkhaven leader Stormcutter(Darth Malgus) brought the Dawnclan order to its knees and took over for a long time. This caused a rebellion act against the Darkhaven Empire by normal citizens, and as a result, the Republic was born - an invisible group that consisted of various clans and tribes to discuss peace and to help each other in crisis.

Many years passed after the Grey Wars, and one by one, the warriors of Darkhaven were hunted down by the knights of Dawnclan.

Nightshade(Darth Bane), the last known leader of Darkhaven, and the maker of the Rule of Two, swore revenge. They will always lurk in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

Her apprentice Plagueshadow(Darth Plagueis) continued her work in silence, training the dreaded Lightningstrike(Darth Sidious), who would create the most feared and powerful Darkhavener of all time: Lord Deadsoul(Darth Vader)

<About Darkhaveners>

When a Dawnclan knight falls to the Dark side, their features grow haughty and sharp because of the Dark Forest water.

Only Darkhaveners have orange eyes.

They usually have red crystals on their foreheads but in rare circumstances, purple or black could be seen also.

They communicate with the Dark Forest, an everlasting place of the Dark side of the Force, with murky water and wizened trees.

They have the Rule of Two, only allowing a Master and an Apprentice to live.

<The Darkhaven Code>

Peace is a lie, there is only Passion

Through Passion, I gain Strength

Through Strength, I gain Power

Through Power, I gain Victory

Through Victory, My Chains Are Broken

The Force shall set me Free

About Kyberclaws:

They glow red hot at the tip when unsheathed at battle mode. But they can't use them for long, or the heat would kill them(Yoda/Horizonstar has a record of using them for a full thirty minutes)

They are functioned by the Kyber Crystals on their foreheads and could cut through anything except Beskar Wood( a tree known for its silvery wood and toughness, used by the Mandalorian cats)

A Dawnclan cat develops this ability once they are 6 moons old, as their bodies mature enough to withstand the claw tip's deadly heat.

About crystals on foreheads:

The Crystals are the main source of the Kyberclaw's power, and when forcefully taken, it would cripple the owner for eternity(like a bird without wings)

When a Dawnclan cat dies, the Crystals turn a dead-looking grey, devoid of all power.

About Droids in the Au:

They are animals that are neither living nor dead(such as rats, foxes, shrews, badgers...etc)

Their commander controls them with the Smoke Crystals(used like comlinks)

About Starships in the Au: 

They are huge birds of prey tamed by the cats.

Alright... the surprise... I'm actually astonished you scrolled all the way down here.

Cuddle Pile!!!

This is one of my oldest Aus that I'm working on; it's a mix of my two favorite fandoms: StarWars and Warriors(cats)

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this👍

[loveemagicpeace]

12th house & South Node Part 2

Uranus in 12th house-creates a unique blend of energies that promote individuality, freedom, and revolutionary change in the realms of spirituality and the unconscious mind. This placement can lead to a unique and unorthodox approach to spirituality, adaptability, and personal growth. Maybe u can seek freedom through the subconscious. But challenge could be the potential for feeling isolated or misunderstood due to their unique and unorthodox approach to spirituality and life in general.

Neptune in 12th house-house can signify a strong inclination towards spirituality. People with this planet in their 12th house can connect with the realm of spirituality much more easily. You also have a sense of curiosity about learning the secrets of life and understanding the unknown. You might have difficulties in forming boundaries. Therefore, you find it problematic to separate reality and dreams. This planet can also give you the gift of creative expression. With neptune here u find it the easiest to express yourself through unique ways.

Pluto in 12th house-you can be very powerful when it comes to your mind. You can be in control with your subconscious mind. You feel things that others don't and you have intuition for things that are happening in your life. You can see through other people and see their secrets, subconscious things that they don’t. Pluto in the 12th house indicates deep, unconscious transformation, often working behind the scenes. This placement can lead to profound psychological shifts and inner healing, sometimes in a way that is not fully understood by the individual. There can be a sense of power that comes from tapping into the unconscious mind and accessing hidden reserves of strength. You may experience life-changing events that force you to confront hidden parts of yourself, which can lead to spiritual growth and healing. It’s a placement that can give you the ability to work on a soul level, transcend your limitations, and transform in ways that are not immediately obvious to the world. You might have an uncanny ability to understand hidden truths, to heal from deep wounds, and to tap into profound spiritual power.

South Node in 7th house- you are used to being in a relationship and you are used to your partner always being with you. Maybe it's hard for you to be alone or imagine living alone. All your life you were surrounded by people and fans and people who adored you and found you beautiful. This can indicate that you have a habit of repeating relationship patterns from the past, which can lead to challenges in respecting your own needs. With that said, many people come to the conclusion that this is a bad placement to have or that these individuals are better off alone.

South Node in 8th house- is about a familiarity around not having that much control. The south node in the eighth house is very comfortable with giving other people some degree of control over itself. It likes to be taken care of, described by, and empowered by other people. You might have been deeply fascinated by the mysteries of life and death, treading the paths of mysticism, witchcraft, the occult, spiritual growth, and psychology. You past experiences may have revolved around exploring the hidden realms of human consciousness and the profound intricacies of the human psyche.

South Node in 9th house- Your comfort zone themes may be related to travels, higher education, spirituality, international affairs, law, justice. You are used to a big trips and to enjoy life without worries and without thinking. You are used to life being easy and full of new opportunities and you are used to foreign things. You feel quite comfortable blending with foreign cultures or religions, while also any type of higher and abstract meanings. You will often prefer to move away from it to give yourself the means to study, meditate or devote yourself to all forms of practices or studies conducive to raising them towards a better world. These people have the belief that it is necessary to extract oneself from the culture of the medium of birth to find the exit, the solution, the door of happiness. You can do this through a frenzy of studies and various and varied explorations in the currents of thought or by going to meet distant cultures and landscapes. Often they seek the authentic in the wild world. In a way, the film “Into the wilde” could well express this quest for elsewhere.

South Node in 10th house- Your comfort zone themes may be related to your career, social status, public role, being recognized.  You have a strong need for recognition of your place in society. Most classically, this will take the form of a need for self-recognition through their professional career and the place they occupy in a company or a professional organization. But one can imagine other forms of involvement in this area which in fact represents the status, the place one occupies in life in general. You will be very focused on your social success, considering that a “safe” place is the lifeline that can protect you. You may be so focused on their professional life that you may have difficulty building their family life, or simply appreciating the space of rest and human comfort it provides. On the contrary, you may consider that family life is a waste of time, which constrains you and slows them down in your professional progress. You will therefore be more likely to flee the home than to settle there.

South Node in 11th house-Your comfort zone themes may be related to your group belongings, friendships, your network, your hopes and dreams. You’re more comfortable in team settings, focusing on collective goals and group dynamics. Your South Node in the 11th house likely means you’re quite good at maintaining friendships and group dynamics, but these relationships may lack the depth or intensity that your North Node in the 5th house craves. It’s not that friendships or group connections are unimportant; it’s just that they can’t be the sole focus of your relational life anymore. You’re pushed to explore the emotional and romantic aspects of relationships, which is often where real personal growth happens.

South Node in 12th house- Your comfort zone themes may be related to the subconscious, spirituality, solitude, hidden work, things you do when you’re alone. have a strong tendency to take refuge in an imaginary world to escape the world. As children, they were able to experience disturbing things that offended their sensitivity to the point that they felt the need to cut themselves off from the world. To protect themselves, their defense was to create an imaginary world made up of personal daydreams in which they took the habit of withdrawing. In this world, they have long felt protected from the madness of the world, the absurdity of adults and their insensitivity.

Chiron in Capricorn- indicates a deep need for validation from others, a strong belief in success and social climbing, and the constant pressure to impress everyone around you. You might just be super socially conscious of what you say and how you say it, do a lot for the general public, work really hard in your career to try and get noticed. You’re really ambitious in some way, but you get wounded over and over when your efforts go unrecognized. The healing path is to learn to listen to your own voice instead of what society tells you success and acceptance looks like. When you learn to speak to your inner voice, you will discovery what your true purpose on earth is.

-Rebekah🦋💫

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: 5 Symbols

for your next poem/story (pt. 5)

EGG

The egg is as powerful in its symbolism as it is potent as a life-force.

The World Egg is a ubiquitous symbol for the egg from which the Universe is said to have hatched, an idea that appears in creation myths from all parts of the world: The Celts, Hindus, Egyptians, Greeks, Phoenicians, and many more all agree about this idea.

The form this cosmic hatching takes is variable though:

Often, the egg rises from primeval waters and is incubated by a bird; in Hindu belief, this is the Hamsa, a goose.

When the egg hatches, the yolk and the white become Heaven and Earth.

The Shinto tradition says that the Universe resembled a giant hen’s egg that broke open, with the heavier parts becoming the Earth and the lighter, the Heavens.

There is also a theory that the entire Universe is contained in a huge egg that stands upright.

The egg is a symbol of new life, and this idea is borne out with chocolate eggs at Easter, which in itself is a celebration of the pre-Christian fertility Goddess, Eostre, who also gives her name to the hormone estrogen.

The subsequent celebration of Christ’s death and resurrection meant that the egg kept its significance as a symbol of new life and hope.

Archeologists have found clay eggs in Russian burial sites, reinforcing the belief in the egg as a symbol of immortality and of rebirth.

In alchemy, the Philosopher’s Egg symbolizes the seed of spiritual life, and depicts the place wherein a great transformation takes place.

The ancient riddle of what came first, chicken or egg, was deftly if disappointingly answered by Angelus Silesius, who said: The chicken was in the egg and the egg was in the chicken.

FEATHER

The Egyptian Goddess of truth, Ma’at, has the ostrich feather as her attribute. There is a very specific reason for this:

Because the ostrich is a flightless bird, the design of its feathers is different to those of other birds where one side is larger than the other.

The ostrich feather, however, is perfectly balanced and symmetrical, and so is a fitting emblem of justice.

Its symbolism is closely aligned to that of wings and birds. They stand for ascendance, flight, communication with the spirit realms and the element of air.

Shamanistic use of feathers is for all these reasons;

the feathers enable the soul to become as light as the feather and transcend the boundaries of gravity, time, and space.

Shamans of all nationalities wear feathers as a part of their ritual apparel.

The eagle feather is the most valuable of all feathers:

In some parts of the world, this feather, synonymous with all the power of the bird, is considered so sacred that only card-carrying Native American tribal members may own them. Those found in the wrong hands are the cause of heavy fines.

The swan’s feather appears in the cloaks of druids; because the swan is the bird of poetry, its feathers magically confer these powers on the bard.

Used at the end of the arrow as a “flight,” feathers have a practical as well as symbolic use.

Additionally, feathers are a symbol of sacrifice:

This is because, when chickens and other birds were ritually slaughtered, all they left behind was a few feathers, fluttering to the ground.

The other major symbolic meaning of the feather associates it with vegetation and with hair, primarily because of a similarity in appearance.

HOURGLASS

The function of the hourglass is to mark the passing of time, as sand trickles through the narrow waist in the middle of the transparent glass container that is the same shape as a figure of eight.

Therefore, it is often used as a motif to show the inevitability of death.

However, the shape of the hourglass, as well as being a visual symbol and a word used to describe the figure of a shapely woman, is a lemniscate, or infinity sign.

That the hourglass can be turned upside down to start the cycle all over again makes it an optimistic symbol of rebirth.

PHURBA

This is a sacred knife, used only in ritual practices by Tibetan Buddhists.

Like the Athame of the Western tradition, it is employed to create the sacred spaces that are used for rites and ceremonies.

Its design is based on a stake used in ancient times to tether sacrificial animals, and it is used to describe a magic circle in the same way as a compass.

Can only be owned or handled by initiates.

THYRSUS

The thyrsus was a sacred implement used in rituals and festivals during the time of the Ancient Greeks.

It was a staff, standing about as high as its owner, made from a giant fennel stalk topped with a pine cone and wrapped with vine leaves.

As a phallic symbol, it was combined with a goblet or chalice, symbolic of female energy and used to counterbalance the staff.

As well as being a symbol of male energy, though, staffs or long poles of some description have a universal use as a sacred instrument to connect the Heavens to the Earth, a conductor for the divine spirit.

Source ⚜ More: On Symbols ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[vxsellie]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚. GHOSTS OF SACRILEGE !

synopsis. fbi agent!ellie williams x nun!reader ; it's truly no shock that the entirety of west virginia is emerged by trepidation, considering hundreds of residents have gone missing within the past three months. as a form of consolation for those fearful, an esteemed fbi agent is sent to investigate. what she finds, however, is more than she could ever have expected.

notes. this piece is part of the mythologica challenge! i tried my absolute hardest to do the theme justice bc of how good it is. also pls note that every town mentioned is real & i did a decent amount of research on each one, but that doesn't at all mean that it's entirely accurate. i've been to some of the places, but not all also ! this is my first time ever writing detailed smut so i literally know none of the correct words to use or how to describe what's happening & it might turn out being literal dog shit,, if that's the case i apologize!

warnings. religious horror, an attempt at writing smut, angst, plot twists, horrible world building, major character death x2, possessive / obsessive romance, descriptive gore, blood, satanic rituals, human sacrifice, blood, oral (r! receiving), brief mentions of abuse & assault, murder as a metaphor, past animal death, long exposition i'm sorry, and - last but most important - the sweet release of desecrating salvation.

wc. 9.5k+

𝓝aught but unease filled the tiny town of bluefeild as yet another missing person is found to be reported in the newspaper. the sun begins to peer over the horizon, long shadows cast against the sidewalk that newsboys toss the papers from. they ride their bikes down the concrete with a fervor that should be rare. but it’s been rather common in bluefeild as of late. every since december. ever since the incidents first began.

nobody in town can be seen outside without a frantic expression and a fast pace. fear fuels their every step as they scurry outside to retrieve the news before burrowing back into the safety of their homes, hungry eyes skimming the article in search of who’s gone missing this time.

ellie hadn't expected much when traveling here. a small town of worrisome locals, a serial kidnapper hiding in plain sight. y'know, the usual for cases like these.

but something about this case stands out to her. there's a certain weight in her chest as each day passes without answers. in the beginning, she'd asked around town, hoping to find some common denominator among everyone's weariness. but there's nothing. the residents are closed off, thick boots and even thicker country drawls quick to kick the agent off their rotting porch at first glance. she's been here for a while now, not a single clue made evident. no loose ends, no muddy footprints, no witnesses. it's like these people just disappear into thin air.

ellie sits in her idled car, eyes scanning today's newspaper for slips of information. she can't help the way her interest piques, slowly going mad with lack of elucidation. she runs a hand through her hair, shoulders weighed with fatigue and dwindling hope.

see, over two-hundred people have gone missing in the past three months ⎯ which is a big deal in and of itself, but even more so considering bluefeild's population is well under five thousand.

her windows fog as rain patters gently against the steel of her vehicle, the whether cold and dreary in comparison to her car's heated temperature. she supposes it fits the mood, though, doesn't it?

after twenty minutes of analyzing each and every word given, ellie groans and stuffs the newspaper into her glove box, slamming it shut. evidently, the paper provided nothing of use to her. it has a picture of the man missing, his name inscribed under the image, and a few words of grief are quoted to have been said by the families. but that's it.

as of this morning, jason casey has been added to the long list of missing persons. and not a soul could say why nor how.

ellie pulls her phone from her coat pocket, clicking on her bosses contact before wedging it between her ear and shoulder. she listens to it ring as she puts her car into gear, pulling out of the parking space she'd been occupying. it's not like anyone here would dare to use their cars anyhow. most shops and businesses have been temporarily closed, owners fearing the possibility of suffering the same fate as those prior.

"ellie?" joel's voice comes through the tiny speakers, papers rustling in the background of the call as he speaks. "what're you callin' me for? i thought you were on the bluefeild case."

"there's nothin' to go off of." she tells him. one hand is rested on the wheel whilst the other holds her phone.

"you're our best investigator, williams, i'm sure you'll find somethin'." he says offhandedly, continuing to shuffle through whatever papers are of more interest to him than his alleged best employee.

she rolls her eyes at his dismissive tone. "hundreds are missing, joel. without a trace or a sign left behind. they're likely dead, if i were to guess. i don't— what the hell good does that do?"

"find the bodies." he says easily. "their corpses might point to their killer."

"no shit." ellie scoffs. "the issue isn't what to do next, it's how the fuck i'm supposed to do it. this has been goin' on for months and no bodies have turned up. where am i even supposed to look? like i said, there ain't a damn thing left behind."

she coasts down the streets of bluefeild, using this time to feel the layout of it and examine what she's working with. she's been here for a while now, but the town remains a mystery to her. and, from what she's seen, it's a bit of a mystery to everyone else as well.

she notices that many of the homes are old and shabby, paint flaking and wood rotting. in the yards, however, almost every resident has some form of a religious symbol. a cross, a statue of mary, a flag for something biblical. anything to show their faith.

to each their own, i guess. she thinks to herself with a shrug before turning her attention elsewhere.

the streets are empty, as expected. a few street lights are on, the yellow illumination flicking with worn age. even on the two-lane roads, there's not a car in sight. she narrows her eyes at this, a shiver tracing up her spine at the disturbing vastness.

"well," joel says, "search the papers some more."

"i've done that a thousand fuckin' times." ellie groans, eyes still scanning her surroundings with intent of committing it all to memory. just in case. "there's nothin' there. it's just all information on the missing people, half-assed sympathy for the victim's family, and a picture of 'em."

joel sighs, the sound of tapping resonating through the phone. ellie recognizes the sound, having worked for joel long enough to know that he always taps a pencil against his desk when he's thinking. it's a good sign, she thinks. it means he's at least giving her predicament some thought.

she's been in bluefeild for eight days now, spending her time interrogating random residents for informations; spending her nights rereading the stupid fucking newspapers. naught good has been of ramification.

the repetition of it all is driving her insane, especially considering none of her efforts have yet to pay off in any sort of way. she'd hoped that when the next person showed up missing, something would present itself. a clue would rear its ugly head at her and she'd grab it by the throat with fervor. but no. jason casey went missing and all heads remain hidden. so, after an hour of battling with her pride, she decided to make the call to joel and admit her being stuck.

"okay." he says, shuffling a bit as he finally gives ellie his full attention. "okay, pull over for a second, i'm gonna need you to do somethin' for me."

she instantly obliges, pulling off to the nearest backroad. gravel crunches under her tires as she drives along the thin path wedged between two decrepit buildings. the alley is small and a bit sketchy, but that's exactly what she needs. ellie puts her car in park, windows translucent in their heavily fogged blanket.

"how many newspapers do you have on you?" joel asks when he hears her car go into idle.

"um," she reaches over and opens her glove box, watching as yellowed papers fall from the newly opened door. they flutter to the floor and atop the passenger's seat. she hums, amused at the sight of her obsession making a tangible image in her head. "a lot."

"okay, good. perfect." joel mutters, the clacking of a keyboard sounding through the tiny speaker. "the first person who went missing was carl andrews. he was thirty-seven. his wife claims he was supposed to have been walking home from work but never showed up for dinner."

ellie scrambles through her messy stack of newspapers, searching for carl's report. she finally finds it, the paper dated to have been written near the beginning of december. she straightens out the wrinkles, examining his picture.

"looks like your average middle age man." ellie mutters, taking in his scruffy beard and wrinkled skin. "he was a carpenter. had two kids, both boys."

"yes, i have the paper pulled up on my computer." joel says. "but it doesn't show his address or nothin'. this shitty website only has half of the damn document."

ellie skims through the words, searching for the street or neighborhood he'd lived in. when she turns up empty-handed she groans, now well familiar with the feeling of disappointment regarding this case. "nope. no home address." she says with an evidently annoyed tone.

"what about his workplace?" joel asks. "if he'd been walkin' home, his work must be close enough for him to do so."

"oh shit," she mutters. she'd studied his article for hours — studied all of them — and she hadn't even thought to look there. her hands clutch the paper as she searches with a hungered gaze. her eyes widen at the address listed on the paper. "yes it's on fifth street."

more typing is heard through the phone, "says here that,, there's a neighborhood right by there. a few blocks down from the carpenters' building. must've been where he lived."

"perfect." ellie grins, adrenaline rushing through her.

oh, she feels on top of the world right now.

"okay, now i want you to look for addresses in all the other papers." joel says, flipping a switch in his tone — off to being ellie's friend and on to being her boss. a familiar change, but an unpleasant one nonetheless. "check 'n see if there's a link between where they'd been last spotted."

"okay."

ellie sets carl's paper aside and grabs another random one. she reads the heading briefly, recognizing it to be the article on bryan turner who'd gone missing in the middle of january. he'd allegedly been walking his dog and never returned to his apartment, according to his elderly female neighbor.

the address is actually listed this time. not his exact apartment number, but the building. ellie can't help the smile that tugs at her mouth again as she grabs a random notepad and scribbles both addresses onto the paper, reminding herself to compare their proximity when she gets back to her hotel later tonight.

"you're a goddan genius, joel." ellie mutters as she sets bryan's paper atop carl's and grabs another. sam cortez. late december.

"thanks, kid." joel chuckles into the phone. ellie has it set aside, call set to speaker as she flips through papers and continues to write down addresses into her notes. her movements are frantic and hurried, adrenaline refusing to wind down from its newly heightened state. joel speaks again, regaining her attention. "uh, sorry t' tell you this but i've gotta go. it's almost midnight and i've been at the building since ten o'clock this mornin'."

"yeah yeah, whatever." ellie replies off-handedly. "thanks for your help, old man. i think i can take it from here now, though. go get your beauty rest."

"promise to call me in the mornin'?" he asks. "i wanna hear what y' find."

"yes, i promise." she laughs. "i'll call you as soon as i wake up."

"okay good. don't overwork yourself either, you need to⎯"

"goodbye, joel!" she says, grabbing her phone and hanging up on him before she has to listen to him reprimand her for lack of rest. he's one to talk, too, seeing as he'd just admitted to having been at the building all damn day.

she sighs, deciding to put a pin in her address search and get back to her hotel to finish working in the comfort of a bed.

she sets her papers into two neat piles in the passenger's seat ⎯ one for those she'd already gone through and one for those she hasn't yet gotten to. then, she puts her key into the ignition and pulls out of the little road.

as she drives down the street, she examines her surroundings once again. still as impoverished as before.

she passes a small farm house, eyes drawn to the old lady sitting on the porch. she's rocking back and forth rather ominously, making direct eye contact with ellie through the windshield. slowly, the woman nods her head toward where a large cross is staked into the soil of her front yard. ellie looks away, a sudden uneasiness washing over her as she presses harder on the gas.

she reaches her hotel a few minutes later, stuffing her papers under each arm before entering the building and heading toward the elevator. by the time she reaches her room, she practically rips her heavy leather jacket off, the yellow 'fbi' label bright and bold against the black material as she tosses it onto her bed. she sits cross-legged in the center of her room, laying out all the newspapers in front of her.

she continues to sort through them all, eyebrows furrowing as she comes to realize that all the victims are men.

she hurriedly flips through the documents, certain she must he wrong. but she's not. they're all male. ellie writes this down on her notepad, handwriting rushed and nigh unintelligible. despite the sloppiness, she circles it, sure it'll prove to be of importance later on.

by the time ellie finishes going through what feels like hundreds of papers, she decides that's enough for her to be able to find a pattern if there is one. the digital clock atop the nightstand reads 2am, flashing bright red numbers at her. she ignores it, too high off the thrill of finally finding something in this priorly monotonous case.

she pulls her laptop from her bag and flips it open atop her crossed legs, quick to pull up a map and type in the coordinates of each address. they appear random at first, completely fucking unrelated to one another. a pang of dread hits ellie in the chest, worried this will have all been for naught.

but then she zooms out.

each dot for each address glows blue. when zoomed out, it forms something. ellie squints, tilting her head at the incoherent image she struggles to make out. seeing as many of the papers weren't analyzed, the picture is only half-complete.

but then it clicks. a pentacle. and at the very center of the shape, a church.

ellie's mind goes back to the old woman on the porch. the way she'd nodded to her cross. the way almost every family in bluefeild is outwardly religious. she can't believe she hadn't seen it sooner.

this isn't just some case where she can stare at newspapers and hope something pops up. it's an intricately weaved web of murders.

her chest heaves as her eyes dart across the screen, unable to believe it. she finds herself tapping her men against the floor, drumming it just as joel does. she curses herself, tossing the pen across the room as her mind reels. it lands in front of the door, ballpoint pointed toward the exit. ellie takes this as a sign from the universe. despite not having ever been a religious person, she can't help the pang of hope in her chest.

deciding to indulge the pen's sign, ellie writes the church's address into her notepad, shuts her laptop, pulls her jacket back on, then heads for the door. she steps over the pen on her way out.

𝓢he stares up at the church, checking to make sure she's absolutely certain she's in the right place. when she's proven to be correct, she stuffs her notepad into her pocket and walks toward the building.

ellie doubts anybody is inside due to the time, but she wants to search the place regardless.

the church is old, creaky wooden exterior painted in uneven shades of white. the roof is brown and dilapidated with wear. atop it, a large cross is seen standing tall, its tip pointed up at the starry sky. ellie wades through the overgrown grass, her breath coming out in white clouds. it's fucking freezing out here.

when she reaches the building, ellie cups her hands around her eyes before peeking through the windows. the glass is dusty and cracked in some places. she can't seem to see through it, transparency made opaque from lack of maintenance.

she leans back and wipes a hand across the dust, forming a wide arc to peer through. inside, the church looks brand new. wooden pews line the space, a long aisle between each formed column. the floor is white tile, cleaned to be spotless. she tilts her head, struggling to look toward the pulpit. it appears to be⎯

"what're you doing?"

ellie jumps, her head slamming against the top of the window frame. she ignores the ache and whips around to face the owner of the voice. a nun.

you stand behind her with a raised brow, your entire body covered by black and white robes. ellie blinks, something about you making her stomach lurch. she's instantly put on edge, shameless in the way she examines your features.

your brow is knit in distaste for the trespassing girl. your eyes are sharp and steady as you pin your gaze onto hers. your hands are clasped behind your back, formal and almost robotic. or at least, that's how ellie sees you.

ellie reaches under her jacket and pulls out her badge. "fbi."

"there's no fbi in bluefeild." you point out, voice steady and melodic. ellie's lips part at the sound but she shows no other form of sway. you eye her badge, ellie williams. noted to be a top agent in her line of work. your eyes narrow. "where exactly are you from?"

"richmond." she responds, eyes never leaving yours as she places her badge back into the interior pocket in her leather jacket.

you tilt your head, inquiring. "virginia?"

"yes." she confirms.

you hum, noting the four hour drive she's sure to have taken in order to get here. you looks out across the grass, seeing her car still running as it's parked on the side of the road, yellow headlights acting as a beacon against the dark night.

"it's late, miss williams." you tell her, turning back to her to find that ellie's eyes have yet to leave your face.

she analyzes each expression you make, contorting every detail to memory ⎯ from the way your eyes flick across her features to the way your shoulders shift slightly after having been standing in one position for so long. she memorizes you, allowing your very being to sink into her mind. for the case, of course. you're a suspect, after all. she needs to learn you and feel you out in order to get a proper read on whether you're innocent in all this. that's why she stares at you. that's why her pupils are blown and her lips are parted again. totally.

"do you want to come inside?" you offer, raising a brow at her strange, yet obvious sense of interest in you. "it's freezing out here and i happen to have just brewed some tea."

her eyes dart to the shabby church behind her. judging by the exterior of the building, imagining the place having ac and working electricity is shocking. but judging by what she'd seen of the inside, she's tempted to take you up on your offer. for the case.

"only if y' agree to answer some questions of mine." she says, deciding to set the terms and conditions early on.

your eyes narrow, "what type of questions?"

"the type i need in order to solve the case i'm workin' on." she replies, reminding herself of the large amount of missing men and boys who've disappeared in these past three months.

"mm," you hum.

you look her up and down, taking in the sight of her. it's rare to see any form of law enforcement out here. you'd lived in bluefeild all your life and never seen a cop or fbi agent outside of the television. her leather coat hangs heavy from her set shoulders. her chin is held high despite the way goosebumps trail across her skin due to the chill of the air. she's wearing baggy black pants and heavy combat boots. interesting.

"sure." you shrug. "i've nothing to hide."

"we'll see 'bout that."

her eyes rake over to where he car remains running. she leaves it, using it as a sign to you that she plans to make this quick. you understand the gesture and heed it with care, nodding as you shift around her and walk toward the entrance of the church. the large wooden doors are already unlocked as you push them open.

ellie draws her eyes across the foyer, noting the long hallway. to the left is a doorway leading to the sanctuary and chancel that she'd seen through the windows. to the right is a large door with a shiny golden handle, locked. the hall is lined with more doors, some locked whilst others are free to peer into.

you move about the space as though you'd lived here all your life. ellie supposes that might be true, actually.

you sweep down the hall before turning one of the corners down a branched passageway. ellie follows behind you, the hall illuminated by only a dim yellow light. on either side of the hall, more and more doors branch out to the side. ellie pays no mind to the building's layout anymore. instead, she finds herself more interesting in watching your habit billow behind you, your shoes clicking with each step against the tile.

eventually, you're both now in a kitchen area. ellie hasn't a clue when you'd gotten here, far too distracted by you to care much for the journey you'd taken her on.

the floor is tiled to mirror the sanctuary, counters made of marble. you flick a switch and the lights flutter on, a low hum sounding from the ceiling as the kitchen is illuminated by a yellow glow. on the counter, two cups of tea sit premade. you grab them, one in each hand.

with an amused expression, you pass one to ellie. she takes it, eyes the glass in her hand for a long moment. in the end, she decides against trusting it.

"uh," she clears her throat as she places the mug on the counter behind her, turning to you with an uneasy weariness. "you knew you'd have a guest?"

"hm?" you hum, tilting your head at her with an innocent curiosity.

"y' made two glasses." ellie points out. you continue to look at her, feigning confusion that urges her to continue her explanation. "it's just— well, i haven't seen anyone else here besides you."

"i hadn't priorly known of your arrival, if that's what you're suggesting." you inform her before taking a long sip from your mug, peering at her over the rim with an alluring twinkle to your eye. you lower it, keeping the glass poised between your hands as you lick your lips and continue. "i simply knew i wouldn't be drinking alone."

"what's that supposed to mean?" ellie inquires, those fbi instincts of hers lacing through her tone. her eyes glint with piqued interest, watching you with a steady sharpness. it weighs on your chest, heavy but enthralling.

"what i mean is," you place your mug on the counter with a light clink. "in this church, you're never alone. not really."

she raises a brow, back straightening. "someone else is here?"

"something." you correct, a smirk tugging at your lips. "a deity, spirit, ghost, demon. take your pick, miss williams. it hasn't a title just yet."

ellie has surely formed her doubts about whether or not you're mentally insane. she can't help but indulges you nonetheless. if she intends on puzzling out the mystery of the missing people, she can't outwardly state that you're crazy. so instead, she says, "are these,, things good? or are they evil?"

"mm," you shift, taking another long sip of tea. you ponder on her question while drinking, your mind deciding on exactly how much you wish to tell this governmental investigator. once your mind is made up, you place you mug back down and flash her an amused smile. "its morality varies. as i said, it doesn't much like the feel of being confined by the barbed wire of titles. plus, there's more than one. and none are a repeat of the other, each separated by individuality."

ellie bites back a scoff, trying her hardest not to just grab you by the shoulders and shake you senseless. she wants direct answers, not riddles. she hasn't the time to figure out what you're trying to get at.

"how many?" she asks. "like. are there lots of them or are they few and far between?"

your brow knits as you take a step closer. at your growing proximity, her breath hitches. you are more than just a nun, you're the embodiment of her obsession. all the care and time she'd poured into this case; you personify it.

you're a religious figure in and of yourself. something worthy of worship and praise. if you were to seen by the world as ellie sees you, historians would be studying you for eons to come. paintings and playwrights would be made in your honor, temples and statues forged in hopes that you'd bat the sculptor even a moment of your attention.

but, alas, that's not how the world works. instead, you're made to be a random nun who lives holed away in a ragged church in the middle of nowhere. perhaps the universe had been wise to hide you from the world, for fear of what your divinity would cause. a repeat of troy, no doubt. wars fought for your hand. lives lost for the pulpy beating heart caged behind your ribs.

"as many as i'd like." you tell her, face now mere inches away from her own.

your body is covered entirely by your habit, black fabrics hanging from your shoulders and arms as to keep your entire being shielded from sight. your hair is cast back and under your veil.

despite the coverage, ellie's enamor is unmoved. it's not your body or your hair that she's drawn to. it's the slope of your nose, the plush of your lips, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the color of your eyes. it's everything that makes you stand out like a brightly shining star in comparison to the dull darkness that is this church.

and stars like you ought to be admired.

"as many as—" she squeezes her eyes shut, knowing her only chance at regaining control of her head is to not face you. her mind is muddled by thoughts of you. she can't think straight. when she reopens her eyes, she could've sworn you've moved closer. "what're you sayin'? i don't—"

"don't understand?" you finish for her, tone pitched in regalement. your head tilts to the side, your noses brushing. "few people do."

"just tell me what y' mean." she utters, voice a whispered breath across your face in the form of a plea. "tell me without the riddles. tell me without trying to evade the truth. tell me with honesty. if you're straight forward with me, i'm sure i'll understand."

you sigh through your nose, leaning away from her. she follows you like a fish on a hook. you take a step back and she takes one forward. noticing, you hold a hand up to halt her movements and she instantly ceases, blinking at you with parted lips.

your head is downcast, palm against her chest. "you'd hate me."

"hate you?" she questions.

despite only just having met you, ellie is quite certain she'd never come to hate you. your very being is as much a wonder to her as life itself. you're a celestial beauty she cannot bear to tear her eyes from. hate is foreign when you're the context in which it's spoken.

"yes." you confirm, expression contorting into one of feigned guilt. and, had ellie not been in such blind awe of you, she'd have likely seen through your facade of deception. "i've made mistakes; plenty. i could never expect you to hear me speak of them and look past their malice."

"but i would." she whispers, taking a step nearer. she places a hand on your wrist, lowering your palm that had priorly been raised between the two of you. she looks down at where she touches you, albeit through the cloth of your gown. "i'd look past it. i'd see you as i do now regardless of what you'd done."

you shake your head, "you cannot mean that."

"i do." she brings your hand to her mouth, pressing her lips against the hills of your knuckles. she looks up at you through her lashes, her mouth remaining close to your skin as she whispers, "i do mean it."

you feel guilt settle deep within your chest, burrowing between your ribs and in the very tissue of your heart. an immoral darkness encompasses the organ ellie so desperately desires to obtain.

you'd lured people into your entrapment many times before. but something about ellie makes you feel bad for doing what you know you need to.

but it's too late now.

she's your last victim. the final sacrifice needed in order to finish what you'd started back in december. after taking her life, all will be well. all will be well. all will be well. well, well, well, well. you repeat this over and over in your mind as ellie kneels before you. she looks up at you as though you're an alter made for this. for worship.

your breath catches in your throat as you watch her sink to the tiled flooring, hands brought up to rest at your hips. her fingers fist the fabric of your habit as she speaks once more, "allow me to prove how much i mean it?"

your head is swimming, unsure on what to do. logically, you know you should stop this before it gets too far. you've already lured her in close enough to do what's needed. but, for some reason, there's a thick knot forming in your chest. as it grows, you come to realize it's not a knot at all. it's a fist. it's ellie's fist.

her eyes bore into your own, her hands remain gripping your hips. somehow, though, you feel as though they're managing to trace their way through you. they line your bones and caress your tendons before inevitably finding their way to your heart. she holds it in the palm of her figurative hands as her physical ones begin to hike up your habit, slowly pulling the cloak up from the floor.

still, despite the discernible desire in her eyes, she does nothing but wait for your response of consent.

it's inexorable, the way you give in. the slight nod of your head had been predestined from the moment you spotted her at that window; and it will continue to prove relevant until your respective faits are sealed.

to ellie, it felt as though you'd taken hours to reply despite it only having been a minute or less. but the moment you nod, she's moving eagerly. she's grabbing your hips and hoisting you up onto the counter whilst simultaneously struggling to pull up the skirts of your clothes. she's trying to do so many things at once that it's dizzying. for both parties.

you aid her, shifting atop the marble as you pull the habit up to reveal what lies beneath it.

ellie feels the world fall from beneath her knelt locale as she stares. a pair of black lace panties adorn you, the upper half of your body remaining covered by the bunched cloth of your habit. the time she takes to memorize you feels agonizing as you sit there, itching to feel her body on yours.

once she's confident that the image has been successfully engraved into her mind, she leans forward. your legs are already parted when her mouth makes contact with your clothed vulva. the wetness that soaks the material soon made into a mixture of your arousal and ellie's opened mouth.

her tongue traces light circles into your clit, a soft sigh escaping your lips as your grip on your habit begins to loosen. you toss your head back in pleasure, the sound of ellie's slurping and licking mixing with the mechanical hum of the lights.

"ohmygod," she says against you, the vibrations of her voice making your breath pick up its pace. "you're so fucking perfect."

one of your hands comes down to tangle in the auburn of her hair, tufts weaving between your shaky fingers. you tug on it, pulling a grunt form the back of ellie's throat as her scalp stings. despite her noise of pain, this only manages to make ellie more vehement in her actions.

she grabs the hem of your panties with her teeth, yanking them to the side. her eyes are shut as she licks a long strip through your wet muscle. you can’t help the way you stare down at her, watching as she puts her absolute all into making you feel good. and, as it turns out, she’s quite skilled at doing so.

ellie's mind is fogged over, mimicking the way her car's windows had been earlier. she supposes there’s no true difference there, however. the interior of her car had been warm in comparison to the cool outside air. swap the temperatures and there’s naught that varies. the warmth that you provide makes ellie feel cold in contrast, which ends in a fogged mind.

the taste of you is enough to make her lose whatever sanity remains intact. all that adrenaline that had flowed through her earlier is being poured into you.

after all, stars should be worshipped right? they should be admired from below, gawked up at. they should be mapped and studied by only the wisest of mankind. they should be doted on with a possessive sense of adoration, one only fit for something so celestial and untouchable as a star.

and that's what you are. to ellie, at least. you're a brightly shining nebula — a feathery cloud of vibrancy, visible only in the darkest of nights. only in the coldest of weathers. only in most decrepit of churches. only here, only now.

only when fate is carved in this exact way. had one thing been altered, none of this would have taken place. it was providence that brought you together. you weren't written in the stars or tethered your entire lives. in fact, the chance of your paths crossing was rather low. but, honestly, that only makes your acquaintance more deeply rooted in kismet. makes it more special.

"fuck," you pant, chest heaving as you squeeze your eyes shut. your head thuds against the cabinet as you tighten your grip on ellie's hair. she groans, fingers pressing deeply into the skin of your hips, hard enough to leave a bruise. your thighs tighten around her head, a coil of heat sitting heavily in the pit of your stomach. "ellie, i'm—"

she tilts her head up slightly, nose pressing into the bead of your clit. she watches through lidded eyes as you come undone onto her face.

she savors it, committing every little detail to memory. a habit this has become, watching you. your brows knit, your legs shake slightly, you breath hitches. and ellie retains all to it.

she made you see stars. made you look into a mirror and see yourself.

that feeling of blissful release is what she feels every time she's fortunate enough to gaze upon you. and now you've experienced it. and she cannot feel more accomplished than she does right now.

"this," you pant, tugging on her hair to bring her face up to your own. she does as you direct her, standing from the floor to press your foreheads together. "was a terrible idea."

"yeah?" she breathes out. "and why's that?"

you run your hands up and down her back, fingertips tracing the stitching of her leather jacket. you can feel the outlined letters of her 'fbi' label. that familiar twinge of guilt encircles you.

she's a good person — a woman who's to spend the rest of her life helping random people she doesn't know. and yet, here she is. made unfortunate enough to have succeeded in her endeavor.

she stares at you like you're a god, something heavenly. something seraphic. something worthy of her.

"i'm not a good person." you whisper, leaning away from her proximity. predictably, she follows, leaning closer with a desperation only fit for one in love.

the guilt of what you must do is eating you alive. it claws at your chest, snapping your ribs like twigs as it wedges between them to burrow deep within you. it's agonizing yet completely unavoidable.

and in a sickeningly poetic outturn, a random butcher knife is sat neatly atop the marble counter only a foot away from where you sit. just as ellie meets your eyes, the blade happens to catch the light and reflect yellow luminescence. a grotesque reminder of what you're unable to run from.

"nobody is innately good. and, as a nun, y' should know that better than anyone." ellie huffs out a laugh, eyes not daring to stray from you. "in other words, i don't care."

"but you should." you insist, voice teetering on the edge of plea.

"and yet, i don't." ellie counters, just as passionate in her solemnity. you suck in a breath, eyes glossing over. she looks at you with a fondness that feels foreign. she cups your cheeks between her palms, repeating, "i don't."

"i've done horrible things." you say.

"you're a nun." she points out with a light chuckle rumbling her chest. "how horrible could these things have been?"

part of you wants to open up to her, tell her everything that's been weighing on you for these past three months. but each time you get close to a confession, something inanimately symbolic taunts you. whether that be the butcher knife, the hum of electricity, the gun holster at her hip, the residual lust in your chest, or the bright yellow lettering on her jacket.

that gun is meant for you just as that butcher knife is meant for ellie. she'd been wise to bring a weapon, a clear sign that she'd intended on finding someone culpable enough to suspect. and you'd been wise to set the blade atop the counter on the off chance that you'd meet your final victim tonight.

you feel sick to your stomach.

"oh shit," ellie curses as she takes notice to the way you're visibly crumbling in front of her. "i— uh, i didn't mean to be, like, insensitive or anythin'. i'll still listen to you. and i promise to not hate you. promise to never hate you."

"ellie, stop." you sigh. "you can't promise something like that. you don't even know what i—"

"then tell me." she insists, your face still in her cupped hands. you look at her through blurred vision, naught but sincerity behind her pale green irises. "if y' tell me what it is that y' did, we can both carry the burden."

you're instantly shaking your head.

"you don't have to do this alone." ellie says. "plus, isn't a weight split a lighter load than one full?"

as you stare into her eyes, you can't stop yourself from what comes next. you're unable to keep your mouth shut when she's looking at you like that. you decide to tell her, opening your ribs and bearing your heart as though she hadn't already taken it from you. you truly feel more bare in this moment than you did when she'd literally been eating you out.

ellie put her entire trust into you when letting down her guard and abandoning the case she'd obsessed over for weeks. she dropped it like it were nothing, focusing entirely on you in its stead. the least you could do is be honest, right? plus, she's not leaving here anyway. you'd locked the door the moment you two entered the kitchen when she'd been too distracted by your beauty to notice. the trap is already set and she's sitting inside of it without a care. all you need to do now is pull the strings.

but first comes honesty.

for ellie, you'd peel off your clothes. you'd peel off your skin. you'd peel off your flesh. then, when you're naught but bones, you'd give yourself to her. you'd give your entire being to her. not because you think you're worthy of her possession, but because this is all you have. the only thing you're able to offer her as a symbol of your devotion, it's yourself.

though, while you're unable to strip yourself clean off your bones, you feel as though rendering yourself vulnerable and fragile is the next best thing you can offer. for her, you are willing to do the priorly unthinkable.

"you're here in search of the missing men, are you not?" you ask, beginning with baby steps. "in search of who's behind their absences?"

ellie straightens, "i am."

"well." you gesture down at yourself. at your crooked veil that shows stray hairs peeking from underneath; at your hiked up habit, just barely falling to cover your underwear; at your knees that rest on either side of ellie's waist; at your vulnerable state that you're offering up to her. at your bones. "you've found me."

ellie's heart stutters in her chest. not because of what you'd revealed to her, but because you trusted her enough to do so. she no longer cares an ounce for the missing people of bluefeild. all she wants is you. she may be a fool to be this way, but she's in far too deep to mind.

she gives you a weak smile, "i don't care."

"what?" you croak. you stare at her incredulously. there's no way she doesn't care. there's no fucking way. "yes you do."

"i don't."

you blink, looking her up and down. there must be something you're missing — her reaching for her gun, her taking a step backward, her eyes darting toward the knife. but she does none of that. she simply remains stood between your legs, keeps her hands on you, and stares directly into your eyes as you confess your gravest of sins.

"but—" you shake your head, stammering. "but i killed all those people. they're dead. all of them. over two hundred men are buried behind the church."

"i don't care." she repeats, noticing the way your voice raises with trepidation. she traces her hands down your arms, stopping only when they reach your own. she tangles your fingers together, feeling the way your body relaxes slightly to the feel of her touch.

"i killed them because i was paid to." you tell her, your mind reeling as you're unable to grasp her lack of care. you talk in a frantic quickness, rushing to get the truth out for fear that ellie will change her mind in the time it takes for you to speak. "their wives, neighbors, daughters. they— they'd come to me in the confession booths and tell me of the men's abuse o-or assault or misdeeds. and i'd kill them for them. i don't—"

ellie's face remains soft. "you did a good thing, then."

"you can't be serious." you huff, eyes watering with the sheer confusion building within you. "i don't understand how you can still look at me like that. i took their lives. these people, i— they had dreams, they had aspirations and goals and families and—"

"listen," ellie whispers, her hands squeezing yours. "they were horrible people that hurt women. they were abusers and rapists and i don't care what y' did to them or how. all i care about is whether or not y' feel better."

"what?" you ask, voice nigh a breath. "what do you mean feel better?"

"to have gotten that off your chest." she digresses.

you take a deep breath, grounding yourself. the adrenaline of the confession slowly dwindles and you're no longer spiraling. you stare at ellie, centering on her face as the world comes back into focus.

you count your senses one by one. the smell of tea, the sound of humming lights, the feel of a hard counter beneath you, the taste of a bitter truth, the sight of ellie's fond expression. your breathing levels out, slowly but surely. and ellie stares at you the entire time. memorizing you.

"yeah." you whisper. "yeah, i do."

"then that's all that matters."

a supernova; to watch a star combust and explode, a colossally significant occurrence that only the most fortunate are able to witness. ellie considers herself to be substantially fortunate. not only because of what she'd just seen, but because of who it was that did it.

to her, this is even better than a natural supernova. rather than watching a random gassy ball of light die, its you. someone she adores and treasures. and you didn't die. instead, you opens yourself willingly to her. you broke down your walls and bore yourself to her. for ellie, that is far more important than some star's death.

"but—" you say, bringing her attention back to your face. your brows are knitted, clearly struggling to get the words out. she watches you with an easy patience, pupils blown as she submits this to her memory alongside all other files in her brain saved under your name. "but there's more."

"let's hear it." she replies, raising a brow.

you suck in a deep breath, lowering your head as to not face ellie before speaking. "i didn't just start killing whatever men that these women were asking of me. it started smaller. i killed animals, put them in a circle of salt, drew and pentagram, the whole ordeal."

"you sacrificed them?" she asks, tone remaining laced with gentility.

"yes." you nod. "i felt my baptism wasn't enough. god never answered me anyway, he never aided me when i needed it most. he watched my suffering and did nothing. so, i resorted to a new deity of worship." you lift your gaze to meet ellie's. "satanism."

"i'm sorry, i don't—" she blinks a few times, confused. "i don't understand."

"as a child, i relied on god to do everything. my life was nothing without him in it to keep me going. but as i grew, i realized it was unrequited. he cared nothing for me, watching with regale as i sobbed and begged for his help." you explain. "so, as a teenager, i switched over to satanism — worship of someone who actually cared enough to save me."

ellie says nothing, staying silent as you confide in her. she continues to hold your hands, softly cradling them on either side of where you sit.

"but then he wished for payment." you continue. "sacrificial lives as a form of repent for all those years i'd spent as a baptist. i obliged, of course. i killed bunnies and deer, doing research to understand how exactly to offer the stolen lives to him. but as of late, he's wanted more."

"humans." ellie guesses.

"yeah." you confirm. "but i couldn't bring myself to kill random innocent people. so i became a nun and listened in on the confession booths. then, i'd ask the confessors if they wished for me to intervene. they'd concur, paying me to take the lives of their abusers." you recall the fear in the women's voices, the shakiness to their hands as they slipped money through the cracks of the door. "they never saw my face, only heard my voice. and, seeing as i live in the church, none of the recognized me. i soon became a symbol of hope for women and one of fear for men."

ellie's mind strays back to all the religious symbols staked in the yards. "that explains their heavy faith. they think you're some type of prophet."

"yeah, but there's more." you say. "i've researched many, many books to make sure i get this ritual right. and, as it turns out, my 250th victim has to be a martyr. someone who doesn't believe in anything. doing this seals the ritual, ending it."

"good luck finding someone here who meets that criteria." she chuckles.

"exactly." you say carefully. "everyone in bluefield is heavily religious. unless that someone has come from out of town."

"me."

"i wish it wasn't." you rush to explain. "i wish there was some other way i could do this. but it has to be today. i need to do it before another woman comes in asking for my help or the numbers will get thrown off. and if i decline her, i'll lose the faith of all the women in bluefeild."

"okay," ellie shrugs. "do it."

"...what?"

"i don't care." ellie says, the sentence becoming something of a catchphrase for her.

the world stops. again. it screeches to a halt and you almost slam forward at the speed of which it crashed down. you stare at ellie with wide eyes, made shocked by her for a second time. someone so hauntingly perfect cannot truly offer herself up to you like this. she can't seriously be holding out her hand, asking for death to take it.

but what you don't know is that ellie would deem it a gift to die by your hand. it'd be better than dying as a withered elder attached to a beeping machine, or as an agent amid a case who only got to see you in her dreams.

but, this way, she'd be with you always. her love for you would be immortalized; she would be tied down to the very threads that make up the the fabrications of your soul. oh a gift that would be.

"do it." she repeats.

"what?, i don't—" she silences you by leaning forward, pressing her lips against yours.

ellie had kissed you out of impulse, knowing no other way to silence that thundering uncertainty that rumbles your brain. but the moment she does it, she's positive she'll never be able to pull away.

your lips are a cathedral of which she cannot help but melt into, your body a temple she's knelt before and wouldn't hesitate to do again. she kisses you with devout piety, her body molding into yours with each touch that lingers on your skin. somehow, this measly kiss is far more intimate than all else before it.

a silent tear slips from your closed eye as you subtly reach your hand over to where you know the butcher knife lies in wait. ellie surely feels your movement, there's no way she doesn't. but she makes no move to stop kissing you, her lips moving with a vehement neediness.

you loathe the way your fingers find the hilt of the knife. even more so, you despise the way you wrap your hand around it and bring it toward ellie.

she knows. she knows what you're about to do.

and she allows it.

love isn't easy for ellie, never had been. but with you, everything falls into place as though it'd been predestined to do so her entire life. as she feels your body shift toward the knife, nothing runs through her mind aside from your name. on repeat, the singular word replays over and over. she wraps your name around her skull, weaving the letters between her thoughts and molding the syllables against her brain. she was born to love you. and so long as she was able to do so, she'd be okay.

just as the tip of the blade brushes her jacket, you pull away from the kiss and stare at her. the knife remains at her back, resting against leather but not daring to press any harder. ellie's pupils are blown, her lips wet from your own saliva.

"i can't." you utter. "i can't do this to you."

she sighs, "i already told you it's fine, angel. just— as long as i have you near me, i'm content with my decision."

"no." you shake your head. "no i know. it's—" knowing ellie wouldn't understand your explanation, you decide to show her what you mean. with your free hand, you place your palm against her gun holster. "whatever you go through, i want to be there with you."

her eyes widen at your words. she jolts away from you, appearing as though she'd been burned. she sets her jaw, turning her hip away from your reach. "no."

"ellie, please." you implore, tone beseeching. "i can't live on knowing i'd done this to you."

"it's unavoidable." she reminds you. "y' made a deal with the fuckin' devil, or, well— i'm honestly not too sure on the details, but— y' can't not follow through. i understand, okay? finish the damn ritual and live your life."

"i don't want to." you plead with her. "not without you."

she shakes her head, eyes glossing over. despite the evident distaste, her refusal is weak. she stands only a foot away from you, seeming as though she's physically incapable of moving any farther.

"ellie," you say, whispering her name like a prayer. she can't help but look up at you through watery eyes. "ellie, please."

"i don't want you to die." she says, voice nigh a whimper.

"we'll be together, ellie," you tell her, hopping down from the counter to approach her. the blade remains in your hand, long forgotten to the both of you as the sight of the other is far more appealing. "if we do this, we can be together for all of eternity. they'll find our fossils in a million years, bones entwined. they won't even know who's who."

she chokes out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "god, how stupid would that be?"

you laugh with her, "so stupid."

you're both crying now, tears streaming down your faces as you stare at one another. slowly, ellie pulls the gun from her holster. she's unsure on how this will go down, but she's willing to try. for you.

to be loved is a horrific thing, you've found. it's to be swallowed whole by something so disgustingly beautiful that you're incapable of turning away.

ellie takes a step closer, the distance between the two of you closing. her left hand holds the gun, her right hand coming up to wrap an arm behind your neck. she pulls your toward her, pressing another kiss to your mouth.

your tears mingle, forming a salty sea on your touching cheeks. you sob against her, chest heaving as you pull her closer with one hand, the other holding the knife. she tastes of sacrilege, salvation, and sacrifice. the ghosts that will haunt this decrepit church until the end of time. together.

whatever string that pulled the two of you toward each other will be knotted, tying two lost souls in search of the other.

"ellie," you whisper between wet kisses, lifting the knife to rest at the nape of her neck, "it's time."

she lets out a sob, a convulsive gasp tearing from her throat. "okay,"

you count down, the two of you agreeing to do it at the same time. you'll drive the blade into her neck whilst she pulls the trigger. your bodies will fall in unison, clinging to one another.

when you reach one, you sink the blade into her with a sickening squelsh. she chokes, dropping the pistol to the floor. it lands with a loud clank moments before her body falls with a thud. your eyes widen, heart ceasing. blood pools onto the white tiles and only one thought runs through your mind: she didn't pull the trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger.

she

didn't

pull

the

trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't—

you fall to your knees beside her, hands coming to cradle her bloodied face. you pull her head into your lap, rocking back and forth as crimson soaks into the black fabric of your habit. you clutch her tightly against you, pressing hard on her slit neck, willing the blood to go back inside.

death doesn't take her hand. instead, he grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her for the untimely demise she'd agreed to. the heart she'd taken from you rattles. the death rattle. you choke out a sob at the sound, everything aching.

you lean forward, pressing a kiss to her cold, dead lips. she doesn't kiss you back. you pull away, panting hard as your chest heaves and your eyes burn.

then, in the corner of your eye, you see the metal of ellie's pistol. you crawl across the kitchen toward the weapon, realizing she hadn't even cocked it. god, how had you been so stupid? you do it for her, loading the bullets into the chamber.

with the gun now in your possession, you crawl back over to ellie.

you position yourself atop her, entwining your legs and placing your head on her chest. it doesn't rise nor fall, no beating heard from beneath her ribs. you sob, placing the gun's barrel to the soft part of your chin.

then, without another thought, you pull the trigger. you pull it because ellie was unable. because ellie couldn't bear to do it for you. a part of you resents her for this, but another part can't feel anything for her aside from utmost love.

and there lie two bodies. lifeless.

ellie found what she'd been searching for all her life: something worthy of her devotion. something she can pour her all into. that had been why she became an fbi agent in the first place — in search something to worship whole heartedly. simultaneously, you'd found what you'd been searching for as well: peace.

in the end, however, it had all been for naught.

the ritual didn't work.

it needed someone faithless, someone who didn't care for religion, for god. but that wasn't ellie. not anymore, at least. because, after having met you, she'd finally found something worth her revere.

you were her religion.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist. @luvsturniolo @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @elliessweetheart @kasqnxx @xlovla

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 additional note. i want this to be said here because i know this piece is super fucking heavy. ellie and the reader's relationship is so fucking toxic. anyone who reads this, i hope you realize how absolutely horrific their love story truly is. there's a shit ton of symbolism weaved within this story that i didn't outwardly state (though most of it i blatantly explained). if u have any questions regarding this piece, i'd love to talk about it bc i put a lot of time into making it.

but, again, their relationship is TOXICCCCCCCCCC!!!!!! it's not meant to be idolized or romanticized in any way. if you didn't notice, i barely used the word 'love' and never made either of them say 'i love you'. that was for a reason!!!! because what they share isn't love. it's unhealthy obsession & i need that to be outwardly said before i post this

[charmwasjess]

Strap in for the Soresu form III Obi-Wan lightsaber post. This is gonna be a sad one, girlies. We’re getting into Obi-Wan’s Fucking Trauma. 

Qui-Gon’s death changed literally everything about Obi-Wan’s life, right down to the lightsaber form. Still a Padawan himself, he had to watch as an extinct monster from his nightmares* utterly took apart the form he’d learned since he was a child, and then, to complete the destruction, slaughtered the teacher who’d taught him the form and raised him. The devastation of Qui-Gon’s actual death had to be the last in a cascading series of horrors that started with the gut-sinking realization that Qui-Gon was losing. And if all of that weren’t enough, Obi-Wan also loses his own lightsaber in the same duel, a psychological blow to his personhood which we don’t have to guess at the significance of. Obi-Wan tells us the cost of it himself in AotC: this weapon is your life. 

The Duel of the Fates on a sheer physical level is a devastating thing to consider. It’s a grueling, full out running battle, the likes of which we don’t see elsewhere in the saga. The beauty (and pounding musical score) of the fight distracts from the sheer brutality of it. Maul is physically attacking them at every turn; he manages to kick Qui-Gon hard enough to knock all 6’3 of him off his feet; he dumps Obi-Wan into a fall that seems to be several stories high. We don’t see Obi-Wan get back up off the floor with Qui-Gon’s body at the end of the duel, and I’d be surprised if he was physically able to even stand again so after the adrenaline faded and the soreness and exhaustion took over. He just been whirled in a lightsaber blender. 

I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to pick up a lightsaber again after the trauma of that battle - much less, a new, unfamiliar one, not the kyber crystal that had been his since he was a child. The new canon’s emphasis on the spiritual relationship between a Jedi and their crystal makes this detail even more excruciating. The Ataru form itself must have felt broken and unusable. How can you put your trust in a form once you watched it be broken so ruthlessly?

And this is where Obi-Wan is so endlessly beautiful as a character. He goes through this horrifying experience of violent unmaking, and instead of avoiding lightsabers as an understandable trauma response, or picking up an overwhelming power and dominance form like V, he remakes himself into a master of Soresu: a form of simple, complete defense. He doesn’t attempt to become a weapon of attack like Maul did to disintegrate Ataru; he makes himself invincible, untouchable, with a perfect defense. Soresu works the pieces that fell apart for the Jedi in the Duel of the Fates to an advantage. It is a form of ultimate endurance, of playing out your opponent and staying up in a fight until the attacker is exhausted or angry. It preserves and it lasts. It is philosophical. It is considered. It lacks the showy flash of Makashi or Ataru and returns to the basics, even working in some of that battlefield meditation that Qui-Gon so believed in. And in that simple economy, it’s gorgeous and effective. 

I have to wonder: is Soresu, on some level, a form of kinetic self-soothing for a person who faced an incredibly traumatic battle at a young age? Does Obi-Wan use it that way?

All of this is perfectly in keeping with the themes of the character. Obi-Wan’s story remains about life, about hope, about survival. The word he uses to describe the Jedi to Luke in the OT is important to me. “Jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice.” Guardians. And what better lightsaber approach for a person who sees his role as one of protection than a form whose signature move is called “The Circle of Shelter?”

*Maul, of course, is a tragedy in his own right, but that’s a different post. 

[orphicrose]

I got bit by a spider a while ago and it made me come up with this request idea, imgiane Alastor x reader were they were already together and one day they come to him with a spider bite and then he aboustly looses it on Angel even tho the reader persists it wasn't him it was an actual spider and AL is like "doesn't matter! I'm not letting any spider harm you!" And Angel is like "HEY! IM A SPIDER DEMON NOT A SPIDER! AND I DONT BITE...unless ya want me too, and what are ya a spider racist?" And its a stupid argument but Alastor is still mad at Angel for a spider bite he didn't cause and Charlie and Vaggue have to break it up. 🤣

Tiny spider

This was really fun to write. Thank you so much for the suggestion

_______________𖤐

Alastor was always your night in shining armour when it came to bugs. Hearing your squeals of terror from the room next door to him, he could always safely assume it was because of some sort of mutated beetle or spider. And he was right 90% of the time. He’d swiftly eliminate the threat, sometimes letting it outside. Sometimes calling over niffty to have her fun with it. This time, though, he was too late. It got you. Seeping into your skin with its sharp fangs before you had the chance to notice it was on you.

Flinging your hand about in sheer panic, you let out a cry for help. Alastor assuming someone had murdered you, materialising into the room next to you hearing his hands. Ready to smite someone with his black magic at any given moment.

You turned, showing him the tiny red mark at the end of your finger. He calmed down, posture adjusting itself. He took your hand in his, moving his monocle closer to his eye to get a better look at the microscopic mark the even tinier perpetrator had left on you.

“What happened my love? A paper cut?” He mindlessly questioned to the sobbing face in front of his.

“It got me…” you almost wept from the panic.

“What got you, my darling” his arms slithered around your waist to pull you into an embrace.

“A spider”

His pupils dilated at the sentence, his beloved was hurt and his instincts tell him to seek justice. Arms pushed you away and within the blink of an eye, was on a search for said spider. There is was, all of its arms waving about in front of him, golden teeth bared ready to attack its next victim.

“Yeah so, now I have to work all day to make up for it tomorrow” angels arms waved around, exaggerating his story to the cat behind the bar in front of him.

“Uh huh.” He responded nonchalantly , cleaning a glass in his hand with a mouldy cloth. His face slowly lifted to see the spiders face, but his eyes widened when he saw the enraged Alastor behind him. Thinking it was for him, but almost relieved when Alastor reached for Angels neck from behind.

Angie screeched in a mix of confusion and fear, managing to twist his flexible body around in the deers clench. Soon being thrown to the floor “What the fuck are ya doing there, Alastor?” His voice was nervous, backing away as he was planted below him.

“You bit my darling y/n. Spider” he walked slowly toward the spider, before he burst out laughing. Leaving the confused Alastor with a tilt in his neck. “You think this is funny?”

Angel struggled to form a word between breaths of air. “Let me guess. Y/n got bit by a spider and you’re automatically gunning for me?” He got up, hand on his knee to help him.

“That’s a bit discriminatory to us spiders, we don’t all have 8 legs yanno?” He dusted his blazer off and wiped away a tear from his eye. Alastor losing his temper the more he spoke. Someone needed to pay for the harm, he thought.

Within seconds hell broke loose. Charlie and Vaggie rushed to the lobby after hearing something break. To be met with glasses being throw at the wall, a black tentacle slapping husk around the face, angels golden tooth glaring as he shot anything that moved and a fire In Alastors eye that said “death to all”. It was mayhem.

Before they had a chance to react, another scream came from the living room. Stopping everyone from what they were doing… except for niffty. Niffty was still cleaning up after everyone like a mad man.

Rushing to the room next door, the group stopped in their tracks to find you hiding on the mantle piece above the fire place.

“My dear? What’s the matter?” Alastor spoke first, stepping into the room.

“SPIDER!! ITS BACK TO FINISH ME OFF!” You screamed, pointing at the tiny black spec on the floor.

“Oooohh…” everyone in the door way collectively hummed, realising the mistake.

“what have you got to say to me now,huh?”Angel poked his shoulder, the demon gritting his teeth as his head snapped back.

“There’s still time to kill you, Angel dearest!”

[writersblockiskillingme]

delete this if you find it weird or confusing 🙏

But headcanons of what snow (old) would act like if he saw the granddaughter of his first love that he betrayed or something , like she looks exactly like her and she’s been chosen for the games

Reminder of His First Love | Coriolanus Snow Headcanons

Warning/s: Old!Snow, mentions of death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: OMG THIS IS AMAZINGG!! I really tried and I truly hope that I did this justice it deserves and I'm sorry if this is not what you had on mind. Enjoy!

So you're a granddaughter of one and only songbird, Lucy Gray Baird.

After she escaped form Snows clutches, she made it look like she was dead just so he could leave her alone forever.

Her heart broke from his betrayal.

She moved to the furthest part of the District 12 once she returned back home.

She tried to live her life to the fullest after everything that happened.

Later on she married a nice man from her District and they had a son.

She sadly passed away not long after.

However, her spirit lived on and passed itself upon her dear granddaughter who she sadly never met.

She would've been proud if she knew you.

Your father always told you that you were your grandmother's clone.

And boy was that true.

Your face, your hair, your voice, the way you carried yourself... everything was just like Lucy Gray.

Your mom always used to joke that she was reincarnated in came back as you.

And just like your grandmother, you got picked for the Hunger Games as a female tribute from District 12.

President Snow was sipping on his tea as he watched the reaping ceremony and he could swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment once he saw you in a colorful dress as you stepped up.

He tried to not think of Lucy Gray Baird for a long time, now imagine his shock when she stepped onto that stage once again.

Once the interviews came and you were interviewed by Caesar Flickerman a usual question came up.

"What is your talent?"

You stopped to think for a moment and answered without hesitation.

"I can sing." You smiled at him and then looked at the crowd. "I know that it may not help me much in the arena, but I'm really good at it."

Snow thought that you proved that, alright.

You formed alias whith Foxface in the arena.

As she died you held her in your arms as you sang her to sleep.

"No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..."

Snow was frozen in his seat.

During the games, he found it hard to watch them somehow.

It was perfectly clear that Lucy Gray came back to haunt him and destroy him.

And boy did she do exactly that.

He never would have thought that Lucy Gray's daughter would become the leader of the rebellion.

He should've explained it, though.

The rebells won and you were supposed to be the one to execute Snow.

The words that you told him once you met up with him before his execution echoed in his mind until the moment he died.

"I am absolutely repulsed by you."

With that, Lucy Gray's clone left him speechless.

He couldn't believe that after all those years she still affected him.

But you now what they say, you never forget your firsts.

Pretty soon he was tied up against the pole as you stood a few feet away from him.

"You're as pure as the driven snow." You mocked him before you let the arrow fly, ripping through the air.

It seems like Lucy Gray's mockingjays did harm him after all.

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[ghouljams]

Hi Ghoul!!! I have a question :3

I've been trying to describe your Fae!AU, specifically König, to one of my friends but I feel like I'm not doing him the right justice.

How would you summarize him and his appearance? I've already sent them the links to the fic and they want to read it but don't have a lot of free time :(

I love your works and just agh something about the nasty man just itches all the right things <3

Luckily the amazing Reb ( @hoodiedidnotdie ) made some reference images for the nasty man

König is a brick wall of a human man. All his fae mass has been compressed into his human suit and he moves as if his skin doesn't quite fit him, like he's not used to the way his joints work. He's more comfortable on all fours than bipedal but humans tend to start calling professionals when he does that. Even his darling liebling hasn't seen the totality of his face, bits and pieces which she's pieced into a hodge-podge of what approximates a human man, but never the whole thing. Even without his mask his hair covers his face, dark and dirty, thick and almost matted, a mask in and of itself.

In his fae form he's almost feline. His knees jointed strange, his musculature off, tall as the trees with teeth like razors lined up in rows. There are times when all you may glimpse of him is his legs picking up to move elsewhere, the length and thickness having caused you to mistake it for a small tree. Other times it'll be his eyes, glowing like embers in the dark, a tiding of death to all who see them. He does not growl, for he has no one to intimidate. His long tail skims the forest floor, muddy with leaves and debris, looking to curl around an unsuspecting deer so that he might pounce on it. That clicking sound you hear isn't just the bugs, if it was you might hear birds chattering as well. Don't run, he likes it when you run.

[mariacallous]

Women who are raped are in many countries – perhaps in most – violated and abused again by the legal system. And yet during her reckoning with the crimes of her husband and 50 other men, all now found guilty in a historic set of verdicts, Gisèle Pelicot seized control of the narrative, becoming a hero in France and around the world.

After she discovered her husband had been drugging her and offering her up online to strangers to come and rape while she was unconscious, Gisèle left her home, her marriage and the story she had told herself about her life, and spent some time in seclusion.

When she emerged, she made two key decisions that transformed her into a feminist hero. The conviction of her rapists and the husband who orchestrated them is justice of a sort (despite some of their sentences seeming shockingly short), but it could all have taken place in the context of the same old story: the shaming, blaming and bullying of a woman in court. She broke that story, and wrote her own instead.

One decision was practical: to waive her right to anonymity and go public. Her lawyer, Stéphane Babonneau, said that had she kept the matter private, “she would be behind doors with nobody but her, us, perhaps some family, and 51 accused men and 40 defence lawyers. And she didn’t want to be jailed in a courtroom with them for four months, her on one side and 90 other people on the opposite benches.”

It was a bold decision, and one that meant, ultimately, that even if 90 people were on the opposite benches, millions who support women’s rights were with her, offering her flowers, cheers and support as she entered and exited the court day after day; demonstrating in her name, demanding France come to terms with its rampant misogyny. These actions represent another verdict - one that is perhaps even more powerful than the court’s.

This huge public response is a result of Gisèle Pelicot’s other moral and psychological decision: to reject shame. Rape victims are often privately and publicly shamed at every stage after the sexual assault – by the rapist, his lawyer, the police, the court system, the media. They are blamed for what happened and told it was their fault; upbraided for their past sexual activities, their choice of clothing, their decision to be out in the world, to interact – if they did – with the rapist, to not fight even if they were threatened with death. They are routinely discredited if the trauma of the event scrambles their memory. They are told they are not believable, that they are vindictive or unreliable or dishonest. Often the shame that is so prevalent in this society is internalised at the outset, repeating what rape itself does: disempowers, silences, traumatises.

It is against this backdrop that Pelicot’s story electrified women all over the world. She came and went from the court with dignity, accepting her visibility as lines of supporters began to form to cheer her on and brought her flowers. She showed no desire to hide. She declared: “I want those women to say: ‘Mrs Pelicot did it, we can do it too.’ When you’re raped there is shame, and it’s not for us to have shame, it’s for them.” For the rapists, she meant, not the raped.

Many women decline to press charges because of a reasonable fear of these consequences. This is not a problem of the past. As recently as 9 December, a woman dropped a federal lawsuit for sexual harassment she had filed against the former governor Andrew Cuomo, who resigned after an inquiry found that he sexually harassed multiple women in 2021. Gothamist reported of the former staffer: “Charlotte Bennett and her lawyer, Debra Katz, accused Cuomo of weaponizing the discovery process by making ‘invasive’ requests that were designed to ‘humiliate’ her, including demands for documentation from gynecologist visits and other medical records.” (Cuomo’s lawyers claim Bennett withdrew “to avoid being confronted with the mountains of exculpatory discovery … that completely refute her claims.”)

France has long offered refuge to Roman Polański, who fled the US after pleading guilty to unlawful sex with a 13-year-old he had also drugged. Dominique Strauss-Kahn, who was in 2011 the managing director of the International Monetary Fund and a prominent member of France’s Socialist party, was accused that May by a New York hotel cleaner of sexual assault. He denied the charges and she was disbelieved and discredited brutally by much of the press and Strauss-Kahn’s powerful friends, her history as a refugee who had suffered female genital mutilation combed over, while conspiracy theories circulated which exonerated Strauss-Kahn. (The charges in the criminal case were dropped in 2011 with the prosecutors citing substantial credibility issues with the maid’s evidence. The civil claim was settled out of court in 2012.)

France is a country where accusations of male sexual crimes have long been ignored; the accused excused or even celebrated by conflating being libertine with being liberated. Will that change now? Some, I hope; not enough, I expect.

Gisèle Pelicot’s heroic boldness in facing the horrific things that had happened to her – in rejecting shame, in standing up for her rights – is admirable. It’s also not a response available to all survivors. Not every case is so clearcut and so well documented that the public and the law have no doubts about the guilt and innocence, the right and wrong. Not everyone will have the excellent lawyers and public support that she has – in fact most won’t, and more than a few will receive death threats and harassment for reporting sexual assault, as some of Donald Trump’s accusers have. I don’t know that Gisèle Pelicot hasn’t received threats, but I do know she has received an unprecedented amount of support. Despite this support, lawyers for the rapists have made familiar accusations – that she’s vengeful, an exhibitionist for allowing the videos to be shown in court, insufficiently sad (rape victims are always supposed to walk the fine – or nonexistent – line between not emotional enough and too emotional).

What I have written is what a lot of people have written about this case: Mme Pelicot has been extraordinary; Frenchwomen have poured out to support her; women around the world have followed the case, discussed it, thought about it. But have men? Until men engage earnestly and honestly with the pervasiveness of sexual assault and the aspects of the culture that celebrate and normalise it, not enough will change.

Many of Gisèle Pelicot’s rapists denied they were rapists, assumed that her husband was entitled to give them permission to assault her while she was unconscious, and all of them demonstrated that they were eager to have sex with a drugged, unconsenting older woman while her husband watched and recorded their crimes. Their sentences may instil fear of the consequences of committing sexual assault, but will they change the desire to do so?

The criminal justice system cannot change culture and consciousness; that happens elsewhere. Feminism has done astonishing work in changing the status of women these past 60 years, but it is not women’s work to change or fix men. And while many men are feminists, far too many men are immersed in the kind of rape culture on display in this trial. One can at least hope that the Gisèle Pelicot case is an occasion and instigation for this work, these conversations, this transformation.

May her example give weight to those trying to change the culture, may the convictions of her assailants serve as a warning, may her dignity and poise inspire other victims and, most of all, may there be fewer victims in a better culture.

Those are the things I can wish for. It will take the will of many and the transformation of institutions to reach those goals. But the example of Gisèle Pelicot offers inspiration – and hope.

[jaal-ama-daravv]

You know I’ve actually been wondering if perhaps there were spells that could slow aging so that Emmrich and Rook had more years together.

Now this, is something I've been waiting for. Bless you for asking. I'll try to keep it succint, I'm happy to expand on any section.

Let's get into it -

Firstly, I briefly touched on it in another post, this is the excerpt.

Mages can live for an incredibly long time. Especially ones that are entwined with the Fade. Even more so ones that can speak to the dead. I think there is some meaning for that we will uncover in future game adaptions.

Find the full post here.

To understand the type of magic or path that would be required of a mage to extend their life, or to just live as long as possible, requires a basic knowledge of the Fade and death itself. Please note that spirit/soul encompany the same meaning.

A) It is revealed in DAO/ DAA, that every living being's soul leaves their body after death and enters the Fade. B) Additionally in DAO, you can meet souls that are trapped in the fade (e.g., Cailin, Rowan, Marric). C) In DA2, Justice reiterates this, stating that every living being's soul leaves their body after death and enters the Fade, however Justice could not say what their fate would be. D) Solas has stated that talented Mortalitasi have the ability to draw wisps and spirits/souls across the veil from the Fade. E) Nevarrans believe that when a soul passes on to the Fade, it displaces a spirit.

With that knowledge -

For the sake of it, let's say a MW Rook passes on. Now, it wouldn't be easy, or safe, or sanctioned for that matter. But Emmrich would find a way to find Rook's soul. I do believe that Rook would do the exact same due to their devotion towards eachother, however Rook has far less training in Fade magic. And as Emmrich has mentioned.

I will state that there is a final dialogue line in the game where Rook and Emmrich state that they want to discuss their plans for their life together after they defeat the gods. We aren't privy to that conversation unfortunately, but it can be interpreted many ways. It would not surprise me if these nerds went home and immediately started, 'okay so if you die, how do I find you'. In the most loving, caring way possible. These two have such an undying love for one another that they would do anything to extend their lives.

I will also state that in at least the Redemption Ending of Veilguard, Rook has Solas's Dagger and it was given willingly. A tool that can be used to enter the Fade and manipulate it. If Rook was to die, Emmrich could utlise that dagger, or vice versa. I would bet good money on that either one of these lovers would use that dagger almost immediately to find their love. Given that the Fade is a dangerous place without wards, some thought would definitely go into their plan to retrieve them.

In terms of extending their life, this is high probable, and the reasoning is quite simple. Emmrich is a highly advanced and knowledgable mage who has studied death and the magic encompassing it for an odd 40 years or so. Emmrich has demonstrated that he can utlisise the magic of the fade and the spirits inside (i.e., romance interest scene, Manfred, and possible revivial.) We have observed first-hand how powerful of a mage Emmrich is, and I don't use that term lightly. He is a top dog in Fade magic and the dead. If Emmrich nor Rook was not able to bring back their love, their spirit form would always exist, which means they would always be searching for eachother. 'In this nor any other world.'

Emmrich already believes in eternal life and eternal love, that is canon. I can't comment on the specifics of how Emmrich and Rook would extend their life due to the Fade and it's intricacies only really being explored in Vows & Vengeance and Veilguard. To give more of an example of the type of magic required to 'bring someone back from the brink of death', I urge you to go listen to the Vows & Vengeance episode 'The Demon That Came Knocking'.

Emmrich has a special connection to the Fade, and the spirits can sense that he is good natured and willing to help them. So possibly, they would be willing to help him extend life.

Lich Path Implication

Theoretically, if Emmrich turns Lich Lord, (and we all know by now that it is in Emmrichs character to go rogue in the event of Rook's death), he could theoretically, have Rook be turned into an unsanctioned lich. He would be hunted for sport by the Mourn Watch and other Lich Lord's but it is theoretically possible due to: A) Emmrich's vast knowledge of the Fade and ability to talk to the dead. B) He knows the process on how to achieve Lichdom C) Knows how to retrieve souls from the Fade. D) He has been known to bend the rules in the Mourn Watch before. E) He would be a Lich. A Lich has vastly more powers and abilities that are connected to the Fade, untold power. (i.e., See Lich Romance Scene; his normal vision is the Fade and has the ability to not only project, but have visions of current events.

Hope this helps ♥ Unfortunately it is all just speculation, but there are many, MANY paths to which Emmrich and Rook could live out their days together, particularly if they are both Mourn Watchers. Am I tugging at straws? maybe. but the lore for Thedas is very deep, and there is alot that we are not privy to yet. Spirits can inhabit bodies, and take on other forms. There is nothing to say that Rook or Emmrich could not attempt such a thing if extension of life was cut short prematurely, or not possible.

[typellblog]

Illyasviel von Einzbern: The Hole at the Center of Fate/Stay Night

Emiya Shirou is the beating heart of Fate/Stay Night. Every character radiates outwards from Shirou, shapes and is shaped by him. He fights against foils like Archer and Kirei while growing alongside the three main heroines in each route.

There's really only one character who precedes Shirou in influence, who shapes him near-completely but cannot himself be shaped.

Emiya Kiritsugu is already dead, after all.

It's his legacy that drives the novel - but something oft-undiscussed is that Shirou only has half of it. He inherits his father’s justice, and the one that inherits his ruthlessness is Illya. Thus, Illya’s relationship to Shirou is dictated from the start.

She is everything his father left behind, the first gatekeeper of the moonlit world of death and magecraft that Shirou now finds himself in. In this role she transcends routes, appearing at the end of the third day to deliver a near-lethal attack just as the story branches off.

She seems intent to deliver Kiritsugu’s baggage to Shirou, to make him reckon with the past that he himself never experienced; the truth that a hero can only help those he sides with while many others are left alone in the cold.

In this way her very existence is a far more fundamental challenge to Shirou’s ideals than that of any other character - and yet this challenge is met only indirectly. Much of the information regarding her true identity and relationship to Shirou is elided until the end of HF.

She functions similarly to Sakura, a character who totally changes the reader’s perception of the first two routes in retrospect. The reveals about Illya force us to reevaluate how positive her ending in the Fate route really is.

In the narrative of Heaven’s Feel, both Illya and Sakura are considered ‘doomed’ - able to be saved only by Shirou sacrificing his own life to Archer’s arm.

It’s the crux of their characterisation, in the same way that Saber’s pursuit of the Holy Grail leads her into timeless and uncountable doomed battles. In a route based around that character, you would expect fixing it to be the main thrust of the plot.

And so just as the Fate route is focused on Shirou clashing with Saber over her lack of regard for her safety, and Heaven’s Feel is focused on accepting even the ‘impure’ parts of Sakura, there is no route focused on showing Illya that she needn't give up on having a normal life.

Instead all of her scenes in Heaven’s Feel are about accepting that she cannot have one.

This is the hole in the center of FSN that I’m talking about. Its absence is felt keenly throughout the novel, because Illya has another role besides a specter of Shirou's past. She embodies the prize and object of the Holy Grail War itself - the very same wish-granting device.

Many of the characters in this story are not fighting for the Grail specifically, but nonetheless their strong personalities and desires cause them to clash with one another, in a process Kirei sees as comparable to everyday life.

Their wishes, both in the form of the dead’s regrets and victor’s will, enter the neutral, empty Grail in order to produce a miracle. The only one not allowed a will of their own is the vessel of the Grail, who, in absorbing these desires, must completely erase their humanity.

Illya is not intended to have a reason to pursue the Grail, nor any life beyond obtaining it. The war is premised on the sacrifice of the Servants, yes, but nonetheless they enter as contestants. Illya, like Justeaze before her, enters the ritual only as a sacrifice.

And yet an outside element is introduced. Illya being part-human, the product of an actual family rather than just a clone allows for her to have personal motivations. She holds on to her resentment of Kiritsugu, despite knowing that it’s pointless, because it’s all she has left.

A parallel can be made to the Grail itself. Supposedly a pure wish-granting device, it becomes corrupted through the influence of Angra Mainyu, one small, perverse wish colouring the whole thing black.

The desired salvation of the Einzberns, their thousand-year project relies on being able to reproduce the miracle, to understand every component part of their attempts in order to draw ever closer to the Third Magic, but Illya is a random factor, born to a human parent.

She’s also their greatest creation since Justeaze. Miracles, after all, exist because they are not understood.

The corruption of the Grail with the darkest desires of the world is just the inevitable result of any wish - the price of becoming a human instead of existing as a machine. Live long enough and anyone would turn into Zouken, higher goals suborned by a base desire to escape pain.

Like Illya the Grail is a failed project, a tool that can only provide salvation of a limited nature & only fulfill its purpose incompletely, proof positive that true perfection does not exist in the world of Fate/Stay Night.

In Illya’s case the bug in her programming comes fundamentally from a desire for family, for someone to be close to her. Despite her dysfunctional initial approaches she’s perfectly capable of living normally alongside Shirou.

The issue, then, is the Grail War itself.

Her two sides, two different origins, come into conflict here, and her role as the Holy Grail consistently wins. Not because she desires it in any real sense, but because she doesn’t believe that she can do anything else.

Consider how the Fate route ends with Saber and Shirou trying to live without regrets, accepting both the negative and positive aspects of the past without dwelling on that which cannot be changed.

Consider how Illya in the Fate route doesn’t say a single thing about her condition, refuses to burden others with that knowledge, accepting the fact of her death and instead choosing to live in the moment.

Consider how the Unlimited Blade Works route is about Shirou trying to live without regrets, accepting that he will not always succeed, that his self-sacrificing nature will hurt him, but nonetheless his pursuit of that goal is worthwhile.

Consider how Illya’s death is used to illustrate this, how she cannot be saved regardless of whether Shirou makes the choice to intervene or not, how his sorrow is used as proof of his brokenness and his ability to move forward regardless is used as proof of his strength.

Consider why the Heaven's Feel route is named after the ritual that materializes the soul, why this is identified with salvation and rebirth by the Einzberns. I would argue that the Third Magic is a metaphor for the process Shirou undergoes throughout the novel.

He evolves from a machine into a human, gaining his own desires and the will to live. And just as Heaven’s Feel, the ritual, requires a sacrifice: Justeaze’s blood forms the foundation, so too does Heaven’s Feel, the route: Illya spends her own life to fully realize Shirou’s.

In moving past Kiritsugu’s legacy, he moves past his belief that his life is worth less than others. He wants to live, wants to let Illya save him, wants to let her sacrifice herself for him. In moving past Kiritsugu’s legacy, he moves past Illya.

I don’t blame him. I just want to emphasize how significant to this novel the existence of suffering is, how important the figure of someone who cannot be saved, how necessary a single person’s sacrifice. And how this falls on Illya in every route.

In the latter parts of the Fate route she quickly disappears from story relevance. Her functions as a Grail offer a convenient excuse to have her sleeping for much of the day, as it does for Kirei’s kidnapping of her, stringing her up as a sacrifice to open the gate.

In UBW we have Gilgamesh brutally ripping out her heart. He values her purely for her core, which holds the Grail, tossing aside the rest of her body.

If her role as the Grail is what drives her doom, though, she is at least partially able to overcome this at the end of Heaven’s Feel.

For a brief moment, Illya escapes the bonds of fate by uniting her deeply personal wish with the impersonal functions of the Grail.

She also dies. She fucking dies, okay? I’m so tired of talking about this as though it’s supposed to be a good thing, as though we’re just supposed to accept it as the best possible option.

It works precisely because we know there is another, because we know for a fucking fact that an Illya route could have existed, that her salvation is possible not just from a meta perspective but directly implied in-universe.

Illya’s power is to grant wishes, but she is incapable of giving voice to her own. She needs someone there by her side to tell her that it’s okay to want to live, and yet- Shirou is so fucking broken that he needs her to do that for him instead.

Illya could have lived, but she doesn’t, and in not doing so she carries half the weight of this story’s tragedy on her back.

In a way this is an excuse for the lack of an Illya route. I really do think its blatant absence adds something to Fate/Stay Night, really sells the tragedy of HF, becomes even more beautiful precisely because of its unattainability.

It’s a comment on how the artistic process, materializing your soul on paper if you will, is an inherently restrictive one, rife with failure and things left on the chopping board.

But it does not, not for a second, mean that we should accept the lack of an Illya route. It doesn’t mean the desire for it is a bad thing. It doesn’t mean that its addition would make Fate/Stay Night worse.

It would, however, become a different game at that point, and here I want to pay respect to the one that has lived alongside me for twenty years.

Thanks for reading, and happy anniversary to my favourite story of all time.

[youremyheaven]

Decoding Venus: A Journey Through the Nakshatras

Cancer rashi is considered the most feminine yet all the naks in Cancer rashi are ruled by masculine planets except Ashlesha ruled by Mercury which is a "eunuch" planet.

Similarly, Venus is the most feminine planet but Venusian nakshatras embody true masculinity.

Sexual polarity is imp because men are drawn to women who may outwardly seem feminine and charming but who embody strength and are emotionally masculine. The same way, women are drawn to men who seem outwardly masculine but who are in tune with femininity inwardly; this is what manifests as gentleness, kindness, appreciation for the fine things etc

The opposite of Cancer/4h is Capricorn/10h, 3 nakshatras fall into Capricorn rashi, Uttarshada, Shravana & Dhanishta. But I'll explain their masculinity later.

Now here are some things to consider,

*all Venusian naks are Ugra nakshatras (known for being fierce and cruel)

*all Venusian naks are Manushya gana

*all Venusian naks belong to a fire sign rashi

*all Venusian naks are assigned the cosmic purpose of 'preservation' (in Hinduism, the 3 cosmic functions, creation/preservation/destruction are personified as the Trimurti and different naks are assigned different functions)

The first Venus nak is Bharani and it is the second nak overall. It is important to understand that the Venusian journey begins in Bharani.

Bharani's deity is Lord Yama, the God of Death. He delivers justice and embodies Kala or time. Bharani is symbolised by the Yoni (which means "vulva" in sanskrit) and the word Bharani itself means "to bear".

Birth and death may seem like polar opposites but there is an element of each in the other. To be born is to experience the death of passivity. To die is to experience the birth of the spirit in another form. Lord Yama is associated with divine punishment and dharma but it would be more accurate to say that Lord Yama metes out the treatment that is the result of our own actions. He rules over time, hence what we do in the present is what we will taste in the future as its consequences.

"Time takes the ugliness and horror out of death and turns it into beauty"- Dodie Smith (Bharani Sun)

In French, orgasm is referred to as "La petite mort" which translates to "little death" and it connotes the "brief loss or weakening of the consciousness". Sex and death have had close associations in many cultures.

Hanya Yanagihara's novel 'A Little Life' has the following book cover:

its a photograph by Peter Hujar and is called 'Orgasmic Man'. The author insisted on using this image for the novel's cover because of how its difficult to tell whether the man is in pain or pleasure. This ambiguity is a major theme in the book as well, that deals heavily with sex, trauma, abuse, addiction etc

Hanya Yanagihara has Bharani Moon with Purvaphalguni Mercury & Saturn

The book, you could say explores the dark side of Venus in some capacity. one reviewer described it as "There may never have been a cover that better captures the emotional heart of a story — that is to say the agony and the ecstasy of desire."

"It poses this question: How does one navigate desire when all pleasure to be discovered in the sexual act has been forever stripped away and turned into the stuff of nightmares, and yet the deep longing for love remains?" the conflict between lust and love is a theme that's explored in the works of many Venusian natives.

Ishtar is a Mesopotamian Goddess of love, fertility and war. Like many ancient deities, she was a dualistic deity, associated with life and death, making love and war as well as thunderstorms and food preservation. Ishtar was closely associated with Venus.

Ishtar, though responsible for all life is never considered a Mother goddess. She bore arms as the Goddess of War. She is a paradoxical Goddess figure with many contradictions; sex and violence, fecundity and death, beauty and terror, centrality and marginality, order and chaos. She occupies a liminal space and her influence spans every area of society, she governs all of civilization (think: the preservation aspect of all Venus nakshatras). She was even worshipped as the Goddess of transition between life and death due to her ability to come back from the underworld after she died.

She was widely worshipped in Mesopotamian society as an administrator of justice (see the parallels between Lord Yama and Goddess Ishtar?)

All of this gives us an idea about the highly complex nature of Venus. it amuses me when people think that Venus is some soft uwu nakshatra with bright colored aesthetics and cute lighting when the actual Venusian themes are of violence and war💀💀💀Venusian naks are hardcore af, let me just say that.

“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears; What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.” ― William Shakespeare (Bharani Sun)

Bharani is closely associated with birth and procreation, however its cosmic function is "preservation" and not creation. This is because with other naks assigned the cosmic function of creation (ex: Ashwini & Punarvasu) creation must manifest from nothing. It manifests itself on its own; you are the creator and the creation. It is a spiritual and metaphysical concept, so to speak.

But Bharani is not associated with that sort of cosmic creation where the universe manifests itself from nothing, instead its connected to the most primitive and primal of human acts; copulation and procreation. Its directly associated with sex and reproduction. And this is not something that can happen on its own. by nature, procreation necessitates the union of man and woman. its not a symbolic act or a metaphor, it requires two people to get down and dirty. Creation of this sort is necessary to "maintain" or "preserve" our species; it does not arise out of nothing; certain prerequisite conditions have to be met in order for it to take place. this is why Bharani's purpose is "preservation".

from the minute that one is born, we are all on a journey towards death. Lord Yama embodies time because the actions we perform in the present can only be revealed in their true nature with time, i.e, whatever we sow, we reap but this is something that takes time. everything in life can be said to come down to timing. be it lessons learnt or success achieved.

its important to keep in mind that Bharani's aim is Artha

There are 4 aims, namely and each nakshatra has a specific aim assigned to it.

Dharma: doing what you are supposed to do. Fulfilling your soul in daily activities Artha: generating income and wealth so you can provide shelter and food for your body. Kama: going after your desires. Moksha: liberating your soul.

Venus itself is a planet associated with wealth, luxury, abundance, beauty etc

The first Venusian nakshatra is associated with the material aspect of Venus which is creating income and thereby attaining security. If we look at Maslow's hierarchy of needs and correspond it to the 4 aims, we can say that Artha is at the foundational base and Moksha is at the very top with Kama & Dharma located in between the two.

It is very telling that while Venusian nakshatras are split among Artha, Kama & Moksha aims, there is no nakshatra assigned the aim of Dharma, which is doing one's duty. With Venus there is no duty, no obligation, no decree; whatever one does we do out of love, this is the essence of Venus energy.

Therefore Bharani concerns itself with the most basic of needs, which is creating security for itself. It occupies the sign of Aries, ruled by Mars and we can say Mars represents the 'soldier'; it is raw, primitive and only concerned with survival.

As we progress through the other Venus nakshatras, we see how the aims ascend on the hierarchy, finally reaching its peak with "Moksha" or liberation in the final Venusian nakshatra.

Bharani is concerned with the most raw, primal and primitive of acts and located in the very first fire sign of Aries, it is an outcaste nakshatra and is the ONLY venusian nakshatra that is outcaste which is in itself unusual because Venus is concerned with refinement, grace, elan and elegance but the fact that the Venusian journey begins in a nakshatra that is outcaste with the aim of Artha implies one deep cosmic truth; in order for an individual to truly embody Venus and understand the planet's energies, you must first begin at the very bottom and ascend to the top. in Bharani, represented by the womb, we see the aspect of a human being taking physical form and being born, they are not born to riches or pleasures but in the most dire of circumstances, and they must now create security for themselves before they can even think of pursuing pleasures of any kind.

All Venusian nakshatras perform the cosmic function of "preservation" or "maintenance".

this is because they are all Manushya gana nakshatras, and human nature is one that's primarily best suited for this cosmic function over the functions of Creation or Dissolution (for deva gana and rakshasa gana naks).

Creation itself is the feminine principle but "preservation" is inherently masculine. Destruction or dissolution is a different expression of the same feminine principle.

All Venusian nakshatras are also of Pitta (fire) nadi

In Ayurveda, people with pitta are said to usually have a muscular build, be very athletic, and serve as strong leaders. They're highly motivated, goal-oriented, and competitive. They are said to possess an aggressive and tenacious nature.

The second Venusian nakshatra is Purvaphalguni, presided by the deity Bhaga, God of Marital Bliss. Purvaphalguni is symbolised by the front legs of the bed or a swinging hammock, indicating relaxation and comfort.

while Bharani was concerned with birth and death, in Purvaphalguni the association is with the sexual act itself.

Purvaphalguni's aim is Kama (desire) and this nakshatra is associated with love, romance, wealth, luxury etc.

Bharani's yoni animal was the elephant, a large yoni animal signifies the immense sexual appetite of the native but also the capacity for a certain breadth of experiences👀 with Purvaphalguni, the yoni animal is a rat, which is widely considered to be the most sexual animal as it copulates and reproduces at an immense pace. It makes sense as to why Purvaphalguni is about sexual pleasures and bliss and not about the how or the why; its purely concerned with the process. These natives are freaky af and the most openly and unabashedly sexual of all.

“Beauty is desired in order that it may be befouled; not for its own sake, but for the joy brought by the certainty of profaning it.” ― Georges Bataille (Purvaphalguni Sun)

Purvaphalguni men love the idea of corrupting something that is innocent and pure and making it filthy.many of them perhaps have a virginity kink 👀💀

In addition to this, Purvaphalguni men and Venusian men in general tend to exhibit the "Madonna-Whore Complex"

Jesse James (Purvaphalguni Sun, Bharani Mars) was married to Sandra Bullock and was outed as a serial cheater.

Tiger Woods (Purvashada Sun, Ketu in Bharani) was exposed as a chronic cheater (he slept with over 120 women during the course of his marriage) and spent time in rehab for his sex addiction.

Elvis Presley (Purvashada Sun) met his wife Priscilla Presley when she was 14 and he was 24. He was hell-bent on "preserving her purity" and they had a very "chaste relationship" after she was married and had a baby however he did not want to have sex with her anymore because she was a mother.

In the 2002 movie Spider, Ralph Fiennes played a man who struggled with the Madonna-Whore complex. He has Mercury in Purvashada as his amatyakaraka.

the movie Vertigo (1958) has this complex forming a major plotline. it stars James Stewart (Ketu in Purvashada) and Kim Novak (Mars in Purvaphalguni atmakaraka and Ketu in Purvaphalguni) as the lead actors.

The novel Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man features a protagonist who suffers from this complex and its the primary plot of the novel as well. Its written by James Joyce who is Purvashada Rising.

Madonna (Purvaphalguni Moon) often toyed around with the Madonna-Whore complex early on in her career and even has a song called Like A Virgin, the lyrics go like this:

"Like a virgin Touched for the very first time Like a virgin When your heart beats next to mine

Gonna give you all my love, boy My fear is fading fast Been saving it all for you 'cause only love can last You're so fine and you're mine Make me strong, yeah you make me bold, oh, your love thawed out Yeah, your love thawed out what was scared and cold."

Since Purvaphalguni is symbolised by the marital bed, and the consummation of the marriage was always associated with "losing innocence and virginity" and how sexual experience is linked with "knowing" and maturing from child to adult.

Black Swan, starring Natalie Portman (Purvaphalguni Moon) and Mila Kunis (Purvaphalguni Mercury & Venus) is a sexually charged movie that explores this dichotomy very well. Nina is a good little girl whereas Lily is highly sexual and wild.

A major theme of this movie is merging these two opposing forces. For good girl Nina to embrace her dark, wild "Black Swan" side. (spoiler alert!!) obviously in this movie, Lily's character is said to be an extension of Nina and not a real person which drives home this point even further.

Losing innocence and corruption/being corrupted are major themes in Purvaphalguni nakshatra and this is not just sexual. An ordinary person losing all sense of morality and submitting to utter debauchery and depravation is a common trope found in the works of many Purvaphalguni natives.

Take the movie, Taxi Driver, for example, it was written by Paul Schrader who has Bharani Moon, Purvaphalguni Venus & Mars

This movie revolves around Travis (the titular Taxi Driver) who is experiencing an extreme existential crisis and is deeply troubled by the prostitution he witnesses around the city; he is unsettled by the moral bankruptness and urban decay around him. He sets out to rescue a child prostitute and the movie has major elements of sex and violence.

This movie is a good example of Bharani's restrained Venusian expression meeting with Purvaphalguni's excess.

Hardcore (1979) directed by Paul Schrader (honestly all of the movies he's written and directed are LOADED with Venusian tropes, themes and motifs) is about a father who goes looking for his daughter who went on a church trip to Cali and ended up working as a porn star.

Like I've mentioned before, the dichotomy between innocence and corruption, divine and human, Madonna and Whore are core themes in the works of these natives. Like Taxi Driver, the protagonist has to descend into hell in order to save the person who is lost. The contrast between "polite society" or the prim & proper "morally upright" side of society versus the depraved, sleazy, immoral underworld is depicted in a very stark and raw manner.

Antichrist (2009) directed by Lars Von Trier (Bharani Sun, Purvashada Moon) and starring Willem Dafoe (Purvaphalguni Moon, Purvashada Rising) is another movie that explores Venus at its most chaotic, unrefined and truthful. Its about a grieving couple who lost their son and go to a cabin in the woods to cope but of course, crazy shit starts happening and is rife with sadomasochistic elements.

Purvaphalguni is the height of Venus, located in the sign of Leo which is ruled by the Sun; here a native loses all sense of ego or pride and gives in completely to their pleasures and desires. Its a very hedonistic nakshatra. Given that its aim is Kama and is a Manushya gana nakshatra, it points to how a native is willing to do anything to attain what he desires; there is no sense of "right" or "wrong" here because Venus is a planet of indulgence.

In Bharani, presided by Lord Yama, the themes were strongly tied to karma, justice, time etc but this is the initiatory stage of Venus, where Venus acts with restraint. In Purvaphalguni, Venus is at its most expansive and wild. Bharani's yoni animal is an elephant; are elephants known for being very sexual? no. they are known for how they protect their herd and how nurturing they are of their young ones. Compare this to the rat (Purvphalguni's yoni animal). Rats have millions of kids and don't stick around to care for them particularly. Since they procreate at such a fast pace, it's every rat for himself. they are associated with filth and dirt.

Its very common for Purvaphalguni men to be involved in sadomasochistic sexual activities; in fact, two of the most famous writers to address these themes, Georges Bataille and Marquis de Sade both have Purvaphalguni Sun & Moon respectively.

“Life has always taken place in a tumult without apparent cohesion, but it only finds its grandeur and its reality in ecstasy and in ecstatic love.”― Georges Bataille (Purvaphalguni Sun)

"Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.”― Marquis de Sade(Purvaphalguni Moon with Ketu in Purvashada)

As such, many Purvaphalguni men have been involved in some type of sex scandal at least once in their career.

Nabokov who wrote Lolita had Purvaphalguni Moon and its a book about a old man who falls in love with a child. Like I said previously Purvaphalguni/Venusian men in general tend to have a virgin kink/a thing for innocence and corrupting someone and derive a sense of satisfaction from it.

in the 90s, Hugh Grant (Purvaphalguni Sun) was caught with a prostitute while he was in a long term relationship with Liz Hurley.

Freddie Mercury (Purvaphalguni Sun & Rising) was known for his wild and freaky love life, he openly spoke about his "enormous sex drive", he once celebrated his birthday with a 5 day orgy💀💀

Namjoon (Purvaphalguni Sun) received flak for recommending the book Almost Transparent Blue which featured graphic sexuality and violence including threesomes and rough sex. In his early career, he also received flak for his sexually suggestive songs like "Expensive Girl", "Trouble" and "Joke".

I don't want to go into this because I don't think there can be astrological evidence of someone being an abuser (i.e anyone could be any abuser regardless of their placements) but many Purvaphalguni men have had sexual harassment charges pressed against them.

“One must do violence to the object of one's desire; when it surrenders, the pleasure is greater.”― Marquis De Sade (Purvaphalguni Moon with Ketu in Purvashada)

This nak is the height of Venusian indulgence and as every peak is followed by a valley, Venus after ascending through the aims of Artha and Kama, now finds itself in the concluding Venus nakshatra of Purvashada. The aim of this nak is Moksha. When all else is satisfied, the only thing left to do is seek salvation.

Purvashada's yoni animal is a monkey and Purvashada belongs to the Brahmin caste. It is a Manushya gana nakshatra.

It is symbolised by “a fan/winnowing machine which separates grains from the husk”. It occupies the sign of Sagittarius and thus its sign lord is Jupiter.

The deity of Purvashada is 'Apah', Goddess of Water/Ocean.

In the final Venus nakshatra, the themes of refinement and purification are at their height. There is a relentless desire for expansion and the combined energies of Jupiter & Venus together can make a native simultaneously expansive but still constricted at the same time. Purification is a major theme in this nak. Bharani was concerned with birth and creation, Purvaphalguni with the sexual act in itself but in Purvashada, the Venusian focus shifts beyond either of the two.

Although Magha is most commonly associated with the "Goth" aesthetic, I would say even Purvashada natives have a tendency to lean towards a darker, macabre aesthetic.

Ozzy Osbourne (Purvashada Moon) was lead vocalist of the heavy metal band Black Sabbath and called himself "Prince of Darkness".

Johnny Depp (Purvashada Moon) stars as Edward Scissorhands in the movie of the same name. The movie revolves around an artificial humanoid creature who tries and fails to adjust to normal society despite the efforts of those around him. He falls in love with a woman he cannot be with. This is a common trope in the works of many Purvashada natives.

Lars & the Real Girl (2007) stars Ryan Gosling (Purvashada Moon) as a socially awkward man who begins to have a relationship with a lifelike doll believing her to be real. His family tries really hard to help him and ultimately (in a very Purvashada esque ending; because of Purvashada's connection to water) he believes that the doll is dying and mourns for her while submerged in water.

Charles Addams who created The Addams Family had Purvashada Sun (he was also Magha Moon), Morticia Addams was played by Carolyn Jones who was Bharani Sun & Moon, in the 90s adaptations she was played by Anjelica Huston who had Purvaphalguni Moon & Ketu

in the movie City of Angels starring Nicholas Cage (Purvashada Sun) the theme of a human and non-human being uniting is once again repeated, this time, Cage plays an angel who falls in love with a mortal woman. (spoiler alert!!) the movie ends with Cage choosing to be a mortal but his human lover passing away tragically. In true blue Purvashada fashion, the movie ends with Cage near the ocean, accepting his grief and new life as a mortal being.

in Francois Truffaut (Purvashada Rising) Jules et Jim, we see the tale of two men who both love the same woman, Catherine. The story repeats the same trope of how neither man gets to truly be with her (true union being impossible is a common Purvashada trope) and the movie ends with her driving Jim and herself into a river while Jules watches on. (death in the water or mourning someone in the water etc seems to be a common motif in the works of these natives)

“Love (understood as the desire of good for another) is in fact so unnatural a phenomenon that it can scarcely repeat itself; the soul being unable to become virgin again and not having energy enough to cast itself out again into the ocean of another soul.”― James Joyce (Purvashada Rising)

“The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.”― Ernest Hemingway (Purvashada Moon, Purvaphalguni Rising)

Hemingway's most famous work is titled The Old Man & the Sea and its set almost entirely on the water/the beach.

Christina Ricci who is best known for playing several dark edgy characters is a Purvashada Moon (she's also Magha rising)

I've also noticed that certain Purvashada natives have associations with Satanism 💀💀 or star in films that feature violent, gorey rituals etc

Rosemary's Baby stars Mia Farrow (Purvashada Moon) and Satanism is a major part of the movie's plot 💀

Zeena Schrek (Purvashada Moon) is the daughter of the founder of the Church of Satan and was the first baby to undergo a Satanic baptism. She's probably best known for conspiracy theories stating Taylor Swift is her clone lmao 💀😭

While Jennifer's Body's main story can be considered an Ashlesha themed one, there are significant allusions to the occult, virgin sacrifice and demonic possession which makes me believe it can be attributed to Megan Fox's Purvashada Rising

in the movie Satanic Panic (2019), Rebecca Romijin (Purvashada Rising) stars as the leader of a satanic cult.

Jane Levy (Purvashada Sun) starred as the protagonist in the 2013 film Evil Dead that features a lot of demons and demonic possession.

Nina Dobrev (Purvashada Sun) is best known for playing Elena on the show The Vampire Diaries. while i know demons and vampires are not the same, you've got to admit they share a lot of similarities xD

Dakota Johnson (Purvashada Rising) stars in Suspiria which is about a young woman who accidentally finds herself in a cult/witches' coven.

Some very well known people who could be called evil personified are also Purvashada natives, such as Hitler and Harvey Weinstein (Purvashada Moon)

Purvashada natives love to play the devil's advocate, the quality we most associate with a monkey (this nak's Yoni animal) is its playfulness. Purvashada natives do things simply for the heck of it/thrill of it. There is no sense of purpose or direction to which their Venusian qualities are directed. Thus it represents the dark side of Venus. When all other desires are fulfilled and the only thing left is to seek Moksha, the nakshatra tends to exhibit the Trickster archetype.

the 2002 movie May, stars Angela Bettis (Purvashada stellium; sun, mercury, jupiter and rahu) and depicts the cruel and sinister side of Venus very well (trigger warning; this movie is VERY gore-y), its about a woman who ritually murders several people who she did not feel loved by (to put it simply).

While Bharani being the initiatory Venus nak is Venus at its most ethical, all sense of "right and wrong" evaporates into thin air as the Venusian journey progresses. In Purvaphalguni, this manifests as a desire for sex itself but in Purvashada, the native is dissatisfied with mere bodily union, it seeks something bigger. This theme of union being impossible/not satisfying can be seen in the works of many Purvashada natives. The desire to delve into the occult arises out of a desire to transcend ordinariness, find something that addresses the darkness and uncover the truth within it.

The Venusian journey passes through the sign lords of Mars, Sun & Jupiter; beginning as a soldier, working out of a sense of duty, reaching its height in the individualistic Sun, seeking pleasure merely for one's own sake and finally concluding itself in the expansive Jupiter where things get unusual. Venus is a complicated planet full of contradictions and combining its energy with that of Jupiter which expands beyond control means the darkness of Venus makes itself seen in ways we don't quite see in the same way in the other naks.

The tattvas of these naks are earth, water and air respectively. It originates in a very grounded fashion, full of practical concerns, then dissolves itself entirely in the formless water before becoming the element that's hardest to narrow down; air.

Bharani with Aries, Purvaphalguni with Leo and Purvashada with Sagittarius and all these signs are traditionally perceived as masculine and the Fire element in general is understood as masculine. The opposite of fire is water, which is feminine (water being related to the Moon, which is a yin planet) whereas fire is related to the Sun which is a yang planet.

it is the combination of masculine with feminine that heightens the effect of the other. a highly masculine man or a highly feminine woman have integrated the opposite energy within them fully; they are internally almost androgynous . they dont lack the influence of the other

in Bharani, we have the womb and creation, in Purvaphalguni we have the bed, in Purvashada, we have the winnowing basket, separating the husk from the grain, depicting the different functions of Venus; as source, hedon, and order.