#especially ones that we perceive to have no or very low quality of life

[sarcasticbabywhispererjess]

A couple of the nurses on my unit are doing a study on moral distress, so at least one shift a week they’ll pass out surveys to rank how morally distressed you’re feeling and why. Monday night was one such night (when I was caring for the very sick baby in my last post). I was very busy and barely had time to sit and chart for longer than 20mins at a stretch. The nurse came up to me at the end of the shift, “George, did you get a chance to fill out your survey?” She knew full well that I hadn’t.

Me, “Sure fucking didn’t.” and I handed back the blank survey to her. She just laughed and walked away with it. 

[elkkiel]

Same anon again, glad to see we agree! I get easily annoyed/tend to be very wary of people because of Discourse TM ive been in/seen go down and honestly i see a lot of it the st fandom that concerns me and annoys me to no end. So im glad to see we seem to be on roughly the same page here especially with how nasty (in the being an asshole to people who disagree way) people have gotten in discourse ive observed. Let people be horny as long as theres no real life sexual harassment/abuse and let people have fun with interpretations of art (as long as theyre not being weird about real life events that inspired the Perceived As Horny art) yknow? I brought in some other discourse here with this ask in particular but i have been very bitter about people lately lol

With how generally sex-positive the fandom is (like in terms of acceptance of sexuality, esp kink and paraphilia), it's a little surprising that people would actually get that up in arms over something like this.

Personally, from my own observations, I'd mostly attribute it to how booktok's kind of adopted ST + Vess as some shallow, sexy spooky anthem/daddy dom character. If booktok is already perceived as 1) low-quality lit, 2) romanticizing heteronormative abuse fantasies, and 3) kinda "cringe", I could see people being extra negative when their fave's starting to be associated with the community.

Which, I understand both sides. I would like to lick the body paint off of Vessel as much as anyone else here. But, the appreciation goes far beyond sexuality, and it's not a factor in my overall love for the band. It can be annoying to see people fawn over "baby-making metal" and our beloved, shirt-avoidant Best Boy at a horny surface-level appreciation. Especially since a lot of the tiktok fandom that might overlap with booktok are sometimes the ones that take thirsting into actual objectifying territory. The music is far deeper than its sex appeal and the community is more than just folks who scream daddy at the barricade during Atlantic lol (idk if that's happened but like you know what I mean hopefully)

So yeah, I get why people would be upset over it. If it were up to me, I wouldn't want Sleep Token to be associated with people's generalized (and sometimes legitimate) negative opinions about booktok. I love them and I wish people got to form their own views unclouded by horny digital shrieking lol. However, this is real life, and I am a mature(?) adult person who can move the fuck on with my life and let the booktok horndogs straight up jork it to whatever they want. It doesn't affect me. And again, if they're not translating their potentially misinformed, hard dom daddy Vess fantasies into harmful irl practice, then who gives a fuck.

People need to chill and realize that there's always going to be aspects of a fandom that you can't control (I'm a veteran Dream stan, miss me with that fandom policing bullshit lol trust me it doesn't work). Just like there's going to be interaction/overlap with other communities that you personally don't agree with. Have your own opinions, share concerns for legitimate worries that don't demonize the individuals themselves, and curate your own online experience to avoid things you don't vibe with.

[baby-yaga]

long post where i talk about how annoying it is being a survivor of sexual abuse lol

not sure how common of a concept this is now but when i was growing up, there seemed to be this concept that sexual assault survivors in particular would be better off if we had died during our attacks. like the process of dealing with our traumas is so awful that we would be better off if we had been killed.

again, not sure how much this is a thought now. sometimes i see survivors in especially low spots saying they wish they had been killed, but i dont think someone suffering to the point of suicidal ideation is the same as, what i perceived to be, a [usa] society-wide agreement that sexual abuse and rape are too awful to ever have a life worth living ever again. i feel incredibly insulted by this now. again, not by other survivors expressing pain, but other people, whove never been through something like this, expressing that their life just wouldnt be worth living if they had been attacked.

this is the only life we can prove we have, and no one goes through it untouched by trauma and pain and death. sure, not everyone experiences sexual trauma, but why should this be any different than any other traumatic event? why should traumatic events period be considered a reason that someones life is no longer worth living? i think its a huge failing of society period that thats even a thought non-survivors could have. that quality of life is believed to be and frequently is so low for survivors of trauma that people who havent been through this would rather die.

you can see this with other forms of trauma too, particularly with physical disability, especially if it was caused by an accident. maybe such a breach of bodily integrity is just too awful for most people to conceive of.

but bodies change all the time. we get older, we get scars, we get rashes and random bruises that we dont know the origin of, we develop new allergies and lose old ones, our eyesight changes with age, as do our other senses, we develop new appreciations for tastes we hated when we were younger, our teeth discolor from coffee or smoking or tea!

part of life is just learning to accept changes as they come. survivors of assault and car accidents can have amazing quality of life--IF THEY ARE GIVEN SUPPORT. denial of support is the thing that makes our lives actually worse long term. i wish that we had what we need. i wish survivors of sexual assault could come forward and receive actual material support, money, stable housing, medical care, mental health care, things that we need to be independent and safe. things that make us safer than being interrogated by police for a crime that was committed AGAINST US! only for the perpetrator to not get charged, receive no jail time [because carceral punishment DOESNT WORK and only exists to exploit labor, not to protect the victims of crimes], and get no therapy or social worker or anything that could potentially keep them from assaulting someone else.

something ive been joking about recently is the worst thing about being a victim of sex trafficking and csam is the labor exploitation. like im a very fortunate broke in that i dont need to pay rent but i also dont think illl ever be able to really be financially stable enough to have my own home, when who-knows-how-much money was made off of my body when i was just a child. as insane as it might sound, i want the money that was made off of me! justice cannot ever be served for what was done to me. what was done cant be fixed, and what was taken is irreplaceable. but i know there was real money exchanged, and it would be a good start.

my honest assumption is that csa is way more common than is reported, because ive spoken to many fellow survivors that never reported what happened to them, including me! i think any of us should be able to walk into a police station and demand infinite money lol

[asherlockstudy]

Random Rhink realisations that came to haunt me as I was trying to sleep;

(Under read more so you don’t hatebomb the half-asleep messenger)

Link has a very different way of talking about his 13 minute sessions with his wife than about his frequently mentioned, very consistent yearn for very long sex with what seems like tantric qualities, even if it takes a toll on the frequency of sex he’s having. The face of the man describing the typical sex he is having and the face of the man describing his dream of very passionate, intense sex are like seeing two different faces. How to put it into words; if these were the same man, then the passionate man would ensure even a bit that this bad craving for intensity, duration and bonding (as I perceive) would bleed in more in his regular sex sessions… right? It would be crucial to him. At least there is not much indication that he takes initiatives to achieve as much as possible for this in his sexual life (the part of it that he has actually described publicly). He also wishes he could cum multiple times and in short wishes for a heightened type of sexual experience that doesn’t resemble much the average straight male preferences, to which Rhett seems to be closer (often, quick and a little rough).

It is interesting to pay attention to the movies Link says he would like to watch; he has mentioned Brokeback Mountain more than once I believe. It is a movie he is interested in watching but actively postpones it out of… what, fear? The plot is literally a blonde and a brunette cowboy bonding and eventually becoming lovers, and really falling hard in love, but it stays a secret and they return to their wives especially because the blonde is terrified of coming out. And then the ending is BAD and all this shit might be hitting a little too close to home. Let alone that the one point of reference Link once made was that he had “heard” that the sex scene, their first time, was very unrealistic or simply very traumatic for the bottom guy (brunette). And if you know, you know (I may or may not have said something relevant in another post). Also, interesting that this was what resonated with him enough to point out, from all of a movie he had not even watched.

The second episode with fanfic enactment, I think, when they find out Link is pregnant and they return home, Link jumps on Rhett on the spot and Rhett suddenly bursts and calls out fanfic writers that “relationships don’t work like that”. There is an unstated semi-bafflement lingering over the crew and Link after he says this and I was so confused, why can’t couples who just learnt they are going to have children go home and be excited enough to want to celebrate their love and happiness immediately? What if Rhett referred to the mechanics of anal instead and the lack of realism in suggesting it could be done immediately and suddenly with zero preparation. He seemed like he was itching to point out the lack of realism in it. (Did not point out whether Link being pregnant was realistic or not 😂)

Topic shift: in the last EB they complained a little about the low viewership of the R&L videos but they acknowledged that the comments they get are very positive. Yet, there was still something they wanted to express but eventually didn’t. Both Rhett and Link attempted to say something two-three times but then backpedaled and made it a more generic statement every time. It really seemed that what they meant was that despite the satisfaction at getting positive comments and compliments on their scripted videos, they still weren’t getting the type of response and comments they expected or hoped for. There was the lingering implication that the videos are not getting well communicated, that their intent gets a little lost in translation. They said the meaning is perhaps not well understood, and I once again invite you to consider what such a meaning could be in a video like, say, We Dug a Medium-sized Hole. Hmm? In their EB talking about starting these videos they had also talked about the importance of checking what the videos would communicate to the audience. If it is what I speculated it was, then maybe the reason we are getting so conflicting behaviours from them, even from Link at this point, is because they had agreed to work the jumping out of the plane in tandem exclusively through this format, while nothing at all would change in the other formats, at least until they ensured the response of the viewers would give them the green light through their scripted videos. But they are not getting this response yet, so the process has been slowed down for now.

They said the videos still don’t make the money they cost but they are determined to keep doing them. Very uncharacteristic of them but very good news for me. Ideally they should be weekly for me lol. These videos come out every 4-5 weeks and I am always in withdrawal syndrome the first and the second week after the video. The third and fourth week I am good again and then the week of the new video it is a new experience that makes me a little anxious all over!

They have used the hashtag #blessed too often lately. Whenever I hear someone say this for themselves, weeeellll I get a little suspicious. Nothing from them ever shook me more than that time in an old EB, several years ago, the one about what makes a good joke, when Rhett said "we're fundamentally sad people". Link also goes on and on about how he is living his best life, yet it is not enough to keep him from some prescriptions. He did try to stop them around spring for a while, but his emotional / mental state made him resume the medication. Perhaps not everything is as ideal as all the hashtags and insta posts imply. In Rhett's solo episode, he was asked how he managed to figure out life and happiness in general. Rhett replied "when I know, I will tell you". So. You know.

I was watching season 8, 2015 and Rhett was right in saying Link at the time would never be so reckless in the things he did or said. He was always acting silly and all, but he was way more uptight about what could be said and what was risky. At the time Rhett said more questionable things than he did. But let me tell you: stuff was happening already at that time.

[bluemooniegif]

**Spoilers for BSD manga through chapter 109**

I wanted to ask for your thoughts on the roles of Aya and Sigma in BSD, particularly the significance their arcs hold in light of certain themes present in recent chapters.

During the Sky Casino Arc, Dostoevsky justifies his decision to assign Sigma to the Sky Casino by citing two criteria determining Sigma’s strength: deprivation and desperation.

“The strongest in the world…is one who holds nothing else.”

“You won’t find a scarier thing in the world than an ordinary person when they��re desperate.”

Sigma and Aya both seem to embody these qualities in different ways, simultaneously serving as compelling parallels to one another. Each grapples with their own sense of perceived deprivation—Sigma of a family and Aya of freedom from misogynistic expectations—and as a result feels a desperation to prove their right to exist outside of their current state.

Not only this, but in chapter 77 as the limitations of the Page begin to break, Dazai adds to Fyodor’s earlier commentary on strength:

“[Happenstance and absurdity] is a weakness shared by the two of us. What’s driving the world [rather than ingenious plans or perfection and harmony] are those in the storm of accidental events who scream, run, and spill blood. Faced with their souls, you and I should be petrified with fear.”

Jouno echoes this sentiment in chapter 94 when he decides the most effective means of opposing Fukuchi:

“Who would you suspect the least, Commander? And who would give you the most trouble? The Vice-Commander? Tetchou-san? No. If anyone will pain you, Commander, it won’t be through strength or smarts. They’ll be a weak, clueless, innocent citizen who happened to be there.”

This shared perspective seems to directly contrast the approaches Fukuchi and Fyodor take in order to realize desired outcomes.

Rather than advocating total control as a medium for change, Dazai and Jouno seem to instead champion the actions of the many who may otherwise be counted off—the “stray dogs” in life, if you will—as the true wheels of change in the world. 

Aya and Sigma, along with several other individuals in the story, may serve as evidence of this, further supporting one recurring theme:

Real strength comes in various forms of weakness, those wayward individuals inhabiting the everyday.

[ I hope you’re finding ways to stay comfy in these trying times btw!! chapter 109 was kind of a lot . . . please be sure to take care of yourself ^-^ ]

THIS!!! I loveee the parallels we see between Aya and Sigma, and think they provide such a fascinating dynamic to BSD.

In most media, especially animangas, our characters all begin with a relatively low level of skill. They work hard to strengthen themselves, defeat what they believe to be their most difficult enemy, and quickly realise that they are in for a lot more than they bargained for. They continue to grow stronger, faster, smarter, until it's finally time to battle the truly terrifying enemy, the one that would have easily crushed them at the beginning. Rarely, if ever, do we get characters with that very base-level skill introduced towards the climax of the story, and even if we do, they are highly unlikely to survive.

Aya and Sigma not only broke that stereotype, but they echo that fantastic theme you mentioned: "The ones who actually make the world turn are those who scream within the storm of uncertainty and run with flowing blood."

And this train of thought always brings me to this moment from the beginning of chapter 107.5:

When I first read that I was like HUHH!???? But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense: Aya and Sigma really are going to be the saviours in this story: the stray (under)dogs.

I am so excited to see how this arc plays out, and ever-hopeful that everyone I hold dear will survive ;-; thank you for the ask!

[drbasilshomeo]

homeopathic treatment for depression | homeopathy treatment

Break out from the binds of depression with homeopathy

We are very concerned about any slight issues regarding our physical health. At the same time, we forget to realise the suffering mind. Mental diseases are not getting proper attention at the proper time, which may be because of the lack of knowledge that well-being of the mind also has equal or more importance in the health of the person. This ignorance leads slight mental issues to serious mental diseases. Depression is one of the best examples of it. Depression sometimes takes the person to the decision to put an end to his life.

Depression is a complex mood disorder characterized by persistent feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and loss of interest that can make even simple daily tasks seem overwhelming.

Homeopathy is very effective in depression. It gives more importance to mental symptoms than physical symptoms during treatment. Homeopathy medicines have very deep action on the mental plane.

Homeopathy is a system of alternative medicine developed over 200 years ago. It works on the principle of “like cures like”, meaning small doses of plant, mineral, or animal substances that would normally cause certain symptoms can stimulate the body’s self-healing response and alleviate similar symptoms when given in very diluted homeopathic preparations. Unlike conventional drugs, homeopathic remedies claim to work gently by stimulating the body’s natural defences.

What is depression?

Depression is a common and serious mood disorder that involves a persistent feeling of sadness, hopelessness, and loss of interest. It is characterized by a variety of emotional, cognitive, physical, and behavioural symptoms that negatively affect how you feel, think and act. Core hallmark signs of depression include feelings of sadness, emptiness, anxiety or irritability combined with cognitive patterns like negative thoughts or low self-esteem as well as physical changes like fatigue, sleep disturbances or weight/appetite changes. Depression greatly impacts daily functioning and quality of life. Activities that were once easy or pleasurable become difficult or uninteresting. Those suffering from depression often experience a loss of motivation and have trouble concentrating as even minor decisions can seem overwhelming. While everyone feels down occasionally, depression is an altogether different state marked by prolonged, increasing periods of despair that do not resolve themselves. It is a serious health condition that requires compassion, care, and treatment to overcome.

Let’s see, what is the exact picture of depression.

Emotional Symptoms

👉🏻Persistent feelings of sadness, hopelessness, worthlessness, or emptiness

👉🏻Irritability, frustration, restlessness

👉🏻Loss of interest in activities or hobbies that were once enjoyed

👉🏻Tiredness and lack of motivation

👉🏻Difficulty concentrating, making decisions

👉🏻Cognitive Symptoms

👉🏻Negative thoughts about oneself, the world, and the future

👉🏻Feelings of guilt over perceived faults or flaws

👉🏻Low self-esteem or sense of personal failure

👉🏻Pessimism, self-criticism, self-blame.

Physical Symptoms

👉🏻Fatigue, low energy, moving or speaking slowly

👉🏻Sleep disturbances (insomnia, excessive sleeping, unsatisfying sleep)

👉🏻Changes in appetite and/or weight

👉🏻Unexplained bodily aches and pains

Behavioural Symptoms

👉🏻Avoiding social interactions and activities

👉🏻Crying spells or inability to feel emotions

👉🏻Difficulty performing daily responsibilities

👉🏻Thoughts of death, suicide, self-harm

Let us see, What are the factors which lead a person to the state:

👉🏻Biological Factors – Depression has a genetic component and tends to run in families. Brain chemistry also plays a role based on levels of key neurotransmitters like serotonin or dopamine. Changes in hormone levels may lead to depression, especially during certain stages of life like puberty, pregnancy, or menopause. 

👉🏻Stress – Stressful life events like divorce, job loss, financial problems, or the death of loved ones can trigger depression in some people. Trauma from events like abuse, violence, accidents etc can also lead to depression. Even small persistent stressors over time can set the stage for depression.  

👉🏻Medical Conditions – Debilitating or chronic illnesses like cancer, diabetes, epilepsy, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s disease and many others can increase the risk of depression due to pain, discomfort and disability over time. Various medications may also cause side effects that contribute to depression. 

👉🏻Personality and Thinking Patterns – People with certain thinking patterns like excessive self-criticism, pessimism or negative self-talk are more prone to depression. Dependence, low self-worth, and insecurity can also be contributory personality factors.

👉🏻Early Childhood Experiences – Traumatic experiences in childhood including exposure or subjection to violence, bullying, humiliation, neglect, loss or separation from parents can increase vulnerability to depression later in life.

👉🏻Though the exact causes are often multi-faceted, understanding common risk factors provides insight into both prevention and most effective treatment approaches. Lifestyle changes, psychotherapy for thought patterns, trauma support, and medications may all help overcome contributing factors.

Homeopathy treatment for depression 

Since homeopathy medicines are very deeply acting on a mental plane, homeopathy is very effective in treating depression. During Homeopathy treatment for depression, the doctor takes detailed cases of the patients by giving more importance to mental symptoms. Thus the doctor will be able to find out the exact cause which led the patient to depression. Homeopathy medicines for depression will be selected based on the symptom totality of the patient which will be obtained from the detailed case study of the patient. Homeopathy medicines are 100 per cent free of any side effects and are available at affordable cost.

Some of the important homeopathic medicines for depression are,

1-Aurum Metallicum 

2- Ignatia Amara 

3-Natrum Muraticum 

4-Sepia 

5- Phosphoric acid

6- Lachesis

7- Antium Crude

8- Pulsatilla 

For more details regarding homeopathic treatment for depression please contact us.

Dr. Sulfath Chengodan. BHMS

Online consultant, Dr. Basil’s Homeo Hospital, Pandikkad, Malappuram.

WhatsApp- +96895511267

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

Can we talk about how Anthony goes from disdainful, arrogant and proud nobleman who thought no one was good enough for him or his family, except for a diamond, to falling in love with an actual commoner, humbling himself before her and choosing her as his viscountess, willing to give up everything to spend a lifetime with her? Or the fact that not even once has Kate’s relatively humble origins bothered him nor does it ever bear any significance in accepting his feelings for her because he has always wanted her for herself and seen her as her own unique and singular person without such superfluous trappings as lineage or noble blood?

Even though, it’s addressed rarely in the story, there are hints that Kate has been cruelly scorned upon due to her parentage (at least behind her back) for most of her life, especially during Lady Danbury’s ball; the very same event Anthony expressed his disdain for one of Daphné’s potential suitors for the same perceived ‘sin’ only a year ago. 

If Lady Featherington and Lady Cowper consider her lineage lacking, it’s very likely most of the ton thinks the same, considering those two women serve as a representation of a public opinion, and the Sheffields basically repeat the same words at the dinner. To them, Edwina shares the Sheffield noble blood, Kate does not and she has been painfully aware of it. The continuous backlash and scorn has shaped her and influenced her whole life. 

Moreover, no one ever dances with Kate nor talks to her unless the men want to get to Edwina through her. It’s a combination of her age, lack of dowry, prickly nature and definitely her relatively ‘low’ birth. If Anthony starts the season as the most eligible bachelor in London, Kate kicks it off with the mantle of the least likely to marry and ends it with snagging the biggest catch, the Viscount Bridgerton. 

Moreover, Kate’s impassionate claims that she is going to leave for India, that she will never marry and doesn’t care what the English nobility thinks of her reveal that she has been at the end of similar insults and sneers for most of her life. She doesn’t merely negate herself for the sake of her family, she negates herself because of the way the upper society looks down on her and her vow to remain single and independent is a defiant message to a society which doesn’t embrace her as one of their own. She uses her pride as a bravado to mask the pain and seeks a lifetime of loneliness as a gesture of defiance against them, because there would not be a day when they wouldn’t besmirch her one way or another if she lived with Edwina in London after her marriage. 

That’s why when she overhears Anthony in the garden talking about his requirements for the perfect bride, she doesn’t feel merely disappointed, she feels extremely hurt and sad as her face visible falls while listening to Anthony’s description of his future wife because she can never aspire to be the woman of ‘impeccable quality’ he wants, the mere origins of her birth disqualify her as a candidate for his heart, and it makes him just like everyone else, just like the rest of them who have been scorning her for most of her life.

Although Kate had no one to defend her at her first ball, during the dinner at Lady Danbury’s not only her mother comes to her support (which is to be expected from a family member), but Anthony stands up to her and protects her from the Sheffields’ insults. It’s not merely the fact that he does it, but the way in which he does it. The Sheffields are utterly blunt and condescending, yet even Lady Danbury doesn’t dare to admonish them openly because of their social station. And while Kate tries to defend herself she doesn’t dare to do anything that would make them shun or jeopardise Edwina and her chances of receiving her dowry, even though her anger and pain are apparent – in her eyes or the way she throws her napkin and clutches it tightly in frustration next to Lady Sheffield’s hand. 

And Anthony sees it all  – her pain and helplessness  – because he’s always watching her and always notices everything about her. It’s no coincidence that every close-up of Kate is shown through Anthony’s POV, allowing the audience to see her from the position where he is and through his eyes. 

He won’t tolerate anyone insulting her and hurting her and rushes to her defence because he knows how much Kate’s been suffering since the moment she met the Sheffields in the drawing room earlier. 

He didn’t miss the blatant way they had been ignoring her and pretended she’s invisible, like some nasty stain which disgusts them or dirty sordid secret to be hidden away, while they’re preening only over Edwina; nor the way they had been sneering at her from the moment she entered the room. He catches the way they openly show that they consider her far beneath them and not worthy of their company. 

And Anthony Bridgerton always notices when Kate Sharma enters a room because his eyes instantly seek her out and his world shifts on its axis, pivots to her and slowly starts revolving around her; and his eyes follow her until the moment she leaves. 

That’s why he’s noticed that the Sheffields never greeted her or Mary  – he comes from a loving family and knows this is the complete opposite of one. The dark quizzical, judging and outraged look he gives to Lord Sheffield reveals he immediately disliked them and recognized them for the awful people they are.

It’s very telling that from the moment the Sharma family arrives in Lady Danbury’s drawing room, Edwina becomes the center of the Sheffields’ attention, yet Anthony can only look at Kate and barely takes his eyes off of her the whole time. Like, the thing that most intrigued him about the conversation must have been the information that Kate enjoys opera, which he immediately stores in his memory under ‘All the Things Kate Likes’ file and which he could use to woo her or make her happy.

When he intervenes and comes to Kate’s defense (and that of her entire family, which is the most precious thing to her in the world), roasting the Sheffields and commandeering Lady Danbury’s house and servants right in front of her gooseberry sauce, Anthony unwittingly becomes the man he has always aspired to be and always thought he had failed to become  – a man like his father and a man his father could be proud of. He calls them out on not treating her right and not giving her the respect she deserves.

This aspect of Kate being a commoner-turned-viscountess is definitely something that could be explored in more detail in the upcoming seasons, even more so after Jonathan Bailey mentioned Anthony protecting Kate. And what better and more fitting way to protect her than from the scorn and censure of the ton which would be vast because, despite the Queen’s approval of their relationship, as at least some members of the ton would no doubt see Kate (out of envy, jealousy and prejudice) as nothing more than a mere commoner and a scandal who seduced the viscount, the most eligible bachelor in town, and married her sister’s fiancé, effectively stealing him from her. 

In some ways, Kate and Anthony will always be quite a scandalous couple in the eyes of the ton and it would be so powerful if Anthony became her overprotective guardian angel and avenger, slaying all her dragons (be it literal or figurative ones) who would dare to give Kate as much as an evil look. Kate is definitely going to show them her mettle but there is no doubt Anthony is going to be there having her back, supporting her and battling anyone who hurts her, fighting her battles not only for her but with her, even more so because men don’t face the same amount of prejudice as women often do and they have better means and wield more power in 19th century society to fight such attacks.

Finally, over the course of the story, Anthony goes from being just another member of the ton sneering at people like Kate and for every perceived imperfection no matter how insignificant it might be, holding it against them, to falling in love with a commoner girl and choosing her as his viscountess, lack of dowry, dubious parentage and all. 

He transforms into the man he has always wished to become and his father had always known him to be. One may say fortunately because it’s clear if he had failed in convincing Kate to spend her lifetime with him, he would have spent his whole life pining after her, never marrying or siring children (Benedict, The Viscount of Bridgerton, AU!) because if he couldn’t have Kate, he didn’t want anyone else.

[koraki-grimoire]

Witchcraft in Hellenismos

Disclaimer: This post is non-exhaustive, and though I'll try to equally spread my focus, it will inevitably lean towards the kinds of magik I personally practice.

Often, in modern pagan circles, people are under the impression that Ancient Hellenismos either didn't have or despised witchcraft. This is largely from three causes. The first is simply misreading, or failing to come across witchcraft in the Hellenism they research. Second is only reading about or adhering to branches that didn't like witchcraft (usually due to it being perceived as hubristic) and therefore assuming that's the most popular opinion. Finally, sometimes people apply their assumptions based on Christian and Germanic culture to Hellenismos, and assume it carries the same attitudes.

In actuality, the view of witchcraft was historically more neutral. Witches weren't typically seen as hags, but maidens, respectable men, priests, and more. It should also be noted that, frankly, "witch" is a slightly tonally incorrect translation usually applied to the word "pharmakis."

For historical attitudes towards witches, we can read works surrounding mainly Medea and Kirke, as well as Hekate if we go past pharmakeia.

But pharmakeia and nekromankia (necromancy) are far from the only forms of witchcraft or magik--which in Ancient Greek would be "mageia" or "goeteia" depending on time and place, but will simply be called "magik" here.

So, with that very long introduction, let's get into types of magik.

Pharmakeia - Herbal Sorcery, Witchcraft

Pharmakeia is perhaps the most recognizable form of magik in historical Hellenismos. As mentioned, it was associated with the heroine Medea, as well as the goddess/nymph/hero (it's complicated) Kirke. This was magik performed using the aid of herbs, and both historically and now blends magik and science. It includes brewing poisons, casting curses, potionmaking, transmutation, and more. Kirke, famously, used pharmakeia to transform men into swine, whereas Medea tended towards poisoning, but both had variety in their craft.

Generally, when pharmakeia is translated, it's done very broadly compared to other kinds of magik. For example, pharmakeia is usually translated, especially in the Odyssey, to "witchcraft" or "sorcery." Pharmakis--the word for a practitioner of pharmakeia--is usually translated to "witch." This often leads to misconceptions of witchcraft in Hellenismos being specifically oriented around herbs and transmutation, when that's only a small piece of the picture.

Nekromankia/Nekromanteia - Necromancy

Nekromankia is far more famous now in its Anglicized pop-culture form, but it was most certainly present in Hellenismos. It's important to clarify that in Ancient Hellas, nekromankia was magik pertaining to the dead, not things such as zombies and raising the dead. In Hellenismos, the maintenance of good relationships between the dead and the living is of great importance. There were plenty of festivals devoted to placating and celebrating the dead--not to mention the monthly Attic holiday Hekate's Deipnon, devoted to honoring Hekate, goddess of nekromankia. So, unsurprisingly, there were witches who gravitated towards this as a craft.

Multiple Hellenic deities were associated with nekromankia, the most notable of which being Hekate, but also Persephone. Though, of course, any khthonic deity--especially khthonic theoi who also had non-khthonic aspects--were relevant, such as Haides or Hermes. A practitioner of nekromankia would be referred to as a nekromanteías.

Manteia - Divination, Oracles

It should be noted that manteia is heavily contested as being a form of witchcraft or even magik in Hellenismos, but it certainly meets the qualifications. The main reason this debate exists is controversy around magik in Hellenismos in general, since as most Hellenists know manteia is so central to so much of our religion, and those who dislike magik are insulted by it being considered that. Additionally, the definition of magik is constantly in flux--it's debated in modern magik circles, and it's even harder to apply a definition we can hardly agree on to an ancient culture with its own independent definitions.

Manteia is, most simply, the power to give prophecies, divination, and the use of oracles. It's the power of the Pythia (Delphic Oracle), it's in the Olympian Alphabet Oracle, it's every single seer and prophecy and divinatory method known to us.

Someone who practices manteia is called a mantis (usually translated as "soothsayer" or "diviner") or a khresmologos ("oracle"), depending on station.

Heliomanteia - Solar Magik

Heliomanteia is hard to find detailed historical information on, but most simply, it's magikal invocation of the sun. This is generally done by attempting to harness the power of the sun, or by requesting the aid of solar deities (namely, Helios).

Interestingly, Helios had many associations with witchcraft and warding off evil. It could be assumed that, due to the qualities attributed to Helios, heliomanteia would be best used to reveal truth, ward off evil, harness the power of fire, promote life, and similar.

Presumably, a practitioner of heliomanteia is a heliomantis.

Goeteia - Magik, Charms

Goeteia (in modern times "goetia") is a term for magik that fell out of style for general magik around the 5th century BC in favor of mageia. It, additionally, was shoehorned into a dichotomy of theurgy (divine, "professional," and virtuous magik) and goeteia (low, malicious, and fraudulent magik). This was largely due to political and social overhaul. The name became associated with fraudulent and harmful magik, and talk of goeteia in Ancient Hellas is a major source most anti-witch Hellenists use.

The goes (practitioner of goetia) was maligned, seen as hubristic and either trying to go against the power of the gods or intending to scam others. Plato famously portrayed them as malicious frauds, and he was not alone. Since the term "goes" is generally translated as "witch," it's not a leap to figure out why this lead to a lot of anti-witch Hellenists.

However, before this (and technically after), "goeteia" simply meant magic, charms, and similar. As a unique practice, and not simply an umbrella term for witchcraft, it can be considered channeling, a relative of nekromankia, or baneful magik, depending how much one leans into the later definition.

Theourgía - Deity Work, Divine Magik

Theourgia (in modern times "theurgy") quite literally translates to "deity work" or "god(s) working." It is ritual, sometimes magik, done with the intent of invoking one or more of the theoi. This was the ritual magik often performed by priests. In fact, it could be considered the mainstream magik of Ancient Hellas--assuming, of course, that one considers it magik.

It's not only historic magik that was central to the religion, but sets historical precedent for the controversial phrase "deity work." The existence of theurgy as the "higher form" of magik in Ancient Hellas is singlehandedly enough evidence to prove the phrase is not and would not be considered inherently hubristic. It should be noted that this form isn't inherently superior, but if you asked Plato, he would disagree.

There are certainly more forms of mageia in Ancient Hellas--For example, I skipped over amulets (periapta), which were almost incontestably the most common magik in a lot of Ancient Hellas, since they could technically fit under some other crafts and because they're the easiest to research on your own. It's a similar case with potions, too.

One important takeaway is the hard line between magik, religion, and science is a fairly recent invention. Pharmakeia could act as medicine, not just sorcery. Many potions were also medication. Frankly, the more women were involved, the more practical it tended to be, with 'spells' often being genuine aids to childbirth and/or birth control. This didn't make them any less magikal, and the magik doesn't make it less real.

And I hope I made it very, very clear, but witchcraft has always been in Hellenismos, and isn't inherently hubristic. That is a myth, and is rooted often in historical (and modern) classism, misogyny, xenophobia, or similar. Always consider your source's incentive to stigmatize before discounting all Hellenic witches.

[wield-the-mighty-pen]

Analyzing Marinette’s hairstyles

So, I’ve actually seen a bunch of different posts and takes of what Marinette’s hairstyles represent and symbolize especially in regard to the episode “Heart Hunter”, but I wanted to go through all the different styles of hair instead of solely focusing on the pigtails/hair down of that particular episode.

With that being said, in no particular order, here we go:

The Bun

This hairstyle is almost exclusively seen in the episode “Animaestro”. However if you’re paying close attention, you will see Marinette wearing this hairstyle, in the old class picture, featured in “Reflekta”. I find the fact that the show made this connection between these two (scenes? examples?) incredibly interesting and very telling. Putting the class picture aside for a moment, one must analyze Marinette’s behavior in the episode “Animaestro”. To be sure, it isn’t great. For the most part, Marinette acts foolishly and immaturely and her actions in this episode, indirectly lead to the akumatization. Marinette, in her jealous state, goes so far as to join up with Chloe (a person she despises), and attempt childish pranks on Kagami. In short, I think that the bun hairstyle symbolizes a sort of immaturity for Marinette. The fact that she wore this hairstyle when she was younger only goes to prove my point. Marinette is not a perfect character, but her actions in “Animaestro” are arguably some of her worst, and naturally when she has hit a low in her maturity level, she reverts back to a hairstyle of her youth.

The Braid

The braid can be easily shoved aside as not holding any symbolism, as just a way the design team chose to incorporate the tail in her costume. However, there were a number of ways the tail could have been incorporated into the Ladynoir costume, and as such the braid must be analyzed. Now, a braid can be considered an almost restricting thing, it carefully tucks back locks of hair and traps them better than an ordinary ponytail can. However, the Ladynoir braid almost has a ‘fun’ twist to it (pun not intended but appreciated). It is long (like really long), and we even see her flick it playfully over her shoulder. I think that the braid is supposed to represent that dualism between responsibility and fun that the job of superhero can have. I have heard a lot of people criticize “Reflekdoll” for its lack of parallels. In other words, Chat Noir learns something and better appreciates Ladybug, but the reverse isn’t true, and I would say that in many ways this is true, Ladybug is not privy to the lesson that Chat Noir is. However, I would argue that she did learn something. Ladybug learned that it’s okay for her to have fun and to joke around. Towards the beginning of the episode we see Ladybug chastising Chat Noir for his joking around, however by the end we see Ladybug embrace this approach and even make some jokes herself. The braid shows Marinette acceptance of balance, of the combination of enjoyment and responsibility within her life.

The Space Buns

This design as well can be attributed to the design team finding a way to show mouse ears, but I’m still going to try to analyze this. I have two different ways to possibly explain this hairstyle. The first being to draw parallels to the bun hairstyle as this is essentially the same thing but two instead of one. The correspondence between the two hairstyles could be seen through Marinette’s feigned naivety in front of Chat Noir. She “accidentally” reveals herself as Marinette and pretends to be less informed than she really is. The other way to translate this hairstyle is as a security blanket so to speak. I haven’t gotten into the metaphorical interpretation of Marinette’s pigtails yet, but I will briefly explain a part of it now (and go into depth a little later). The pigtails serve as a sense of security for Marinette, as a source of status quo. The space buns are that, but elevated. In the episode this hairstyle is featured, “Kwamibuster” (I don’t think I mentioned this before), Marinette is desperate to keep her identity a secret from Chat Noir and develops a convoluted plan (including Multi-mouse) to accomplish this. She wants the security of her identity and wants to use her comfort style at this moment. However, Marinette is trying to distance herself from Ladybug and as such she uses a slight variation of her pigtails in her alternate hero form.

The Ponytail

I’m gonna be honest and say that I can’t fully analyze this hairstyle as we have not yet seen the episode where this hairstyle makes its second appearance. So I’m just focusing here on the ponytail from “Optigami”. I might make another analysis on the ponytail after “Sentibubbler” comes out but it might make more sense to wait until after the whole season comes out, in case there are new examples of ponytails (or other hairstyles for that matter). I don’t want to say anything about Pegabug’s ponytail, because as I’m sure you know, Miraculous trailers can be very misleading. Anyways, after that ramble, I now focus on Ladybee’s ponytail. To be frank “Optigami” was a bit of a doozy. I watched that episode with a sense of dread that did not lighten by the end of the episode. This isn’t a bad thing, but it was intense for a typical episode of Miraculous, a show where my usual reaction is a mix of “oh this is cute” and cringe (to be fair I cringe easily). But what I like so much about season 4 is that we get more than that (I won’t go into this now because I’m straying from the topic too much). Ladybee comes at a time of great stress for Marinette, she gets stuck in an elevator with someone and is thus unable to transform (let alone the fact that that “someone” is Adrien), she is without the help of Chat Noir and most of the other heroes, and (unbeknownst to her for a majority of the episode) her friend has been replaced with a sentimonster. Yet, despite all of this, Marinette remains cool, calm, and collected. She, unlike Alya, does not fall apart and despair when Senti-Nino is revealed, she knows she has to get the job done. A ponytail gives an image of “getting the job done” of focus. Although the situation is dire and dangerous, Marinette displays her competence in crisis and the ponytail magnifies that trait. I have a feeling that the same will be true for Pegabug, but only time (and the episode coming out) will tell.

Hair Down

In the two episodes that we have seen Marinette wearing her hair down, they were both in connection with Adrien and her relationship with her. I want to separate the two examples because though they both wind up achieving similar goals in regard to their symbolism, they do it in different ways. Focusing first on “Chat Blanc” Marinette wears her hair down in part to distinguish to the audience the difference between the two timelines. Though the surface level explanation of her hair would be sufficient explanation, this choice of hairstyle also has a deeper interpretation. This being as a metaphor for Marinette’s vulnerability. She is allowing her feelings to be known to Adrien, she is allowing herself to be open and honest about her emotions and with that freedom she lets her hair free as well. It is also significant that she is free from her secret identity (albeit unknowingly) and as she allows Adrien to see the full spectrum of her personality, she frees her hair from its restraint. In “Heart Hunter” too, this hairstyle signifies vulnerability and freedom. In this episode we see Marinette having fun with Adrien and Kagami, without the worry of how she is being perceived by Adrien, without the stress about her feelings for him. It is of great significance that when she lets her guard down, when she “lets her hair down” (both literally and metaphorically), Adrien comments on her beauty. We already know, as viewers, that Adrien has fallen in love with Marinette’s personality as Ladybug. But as Marinette, Adrien has not been privy to her full personality. He has only been given glimpses, as in this episode, to the full extent of her persona. Marinette is seen later on in the episode to revert back to her old hairstyle once she is no longer comfortable, when she feels inadequate compared to Kagami. She puts back on her guise when she feels she needs the security. Which leads us to that source of security.

Pigtails

I feel a bit bad as I have simplified this hairstyle in earlier paragraphs to a symbol for security. While this definition is a correct one, this hairstyle has more than one explanation. As Marinette’s primary hairstyle, in both her every day and hero outfits, we see this hairstyle A LOT. Because of this, there is an array of interpretation as to what this hairstyle could mean. Starting with the aforementioned, this hairstyle works as a form of security for Marinette. The style required her to hold her hair back, to keep it in check, away from possible disasters and viewers (wind can tangle hair very easily). The pigtails are the antithesis of letting her hair down, a common symbol for freedom and relaxation. The pigtails therefore show that she is on her guard and is protecting herself. The pigtails also represent her quality of being a do-er. She likes to do things, she is an active person, she doesn’t stand aside or wait for things to happen, she works to make them happen. As a do-er she needs focus, she needs a restraint for her hair that could get in her line of sight, and the pigtails do that well. As Ladybug, the same is true. She is focused and determined to accomplish her goals, to succeed in her battles and she needs to tie her hair back to best accomplish this. There is importance in the fact that she chooses to focus herself with pigtails rather than the equally practical ponytail. This can be attributed to the child-like quality that pigtails have. Marinette, simply put, is still a child. Though as a whole she is particularly mature for her age, at times she can show a bit of immaturity. It is interesting to note that as the seasons progress, the more we see her with other hairstyles. As she matures she wears the pigtails less. The pigtails are also a girly hairstyle and show how Marinette is a girly-girl in a plain and easy way. Additionally, the pigtails give her the approachable, girl-next-door look. In simply looking at Marinette one gets the image of her sweetness and good nature. In visual media, it is important to make a connection between personality and visage. In cartoons especially, a character’s design should fit with how they interact with their world, and the pigtails are an immediate signifier as to Marinette’s character. This about sums up my analysis of her pigtails. I know that there are more ways to interpret them, and feel free to comment if you think of any other interpretations!

[toadwarts]

Special Delivery

Companion piece to Safe At Last.

After two humans escaped from an abusive home and found a new home working alongside Duke, they have begun settling into their new lives as merchants and their polyamorous romance with The Duke. Our primary character (aka the Reader) is struggling with the way he is perceived by the villagers, but is pleasantly surprised when The Duke returns with a special gift... Just the thing to help him feel better.

Fluffy hurt/comfort poly oneshot written in first person but made so that you can insert yourself if wanted. This story centers on a transmasculine protagonist!

Read on A03 or Fanfiction.net!

I sat in the back of the Duke’s caravan, lonely and bored. Both the Duke and my primary partner had been out for hours, making deliveries around the village and to the factory. I had stayed behind to look after the caravan and make sales to anyone who might approach--not to mention I wasn’t terribly keen on meeting any of the four lords yet. It had been months since we began staying with the massive enigma of a man, and only a few days less of that time since we had become a delightful little polycule. 

Life in the village hadn’t been easy--there were a lot of mysterious dangers, and you had to be cunning with both your words and weapons. Even still, it was as if The Duke commanded respect of all who lived within the confines of this little world, and so the three of us were safe/ When asked, The Duke would simply flash an award winning smile and say, “I suppose it’s one of the perks of having world class customer service!”

Still, The Duke being so...enigmatic could be exhausting, and perhaps a little bit annoying at times. But he was a good friend and even better lover, and always made sure that we were cared for. If he wanted to keep his secrets, I suppose it was his business. One day, after building up plenty of trust...perhaps we would be privy to them. After all, we had our own secrets too.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” 

I startled at the sudden noise, hopping up to my feet. No one had approached the caravan all day, but I needed to make sure my customer service was perfect, else The Duke would be most displeased!

“Hello,” I said, my voice chipper. “How can I help you out today?” The customers seemed to be a couple--a thin man and woman, dressed all in black with their hats pulled low on the crowns of their heads. Their hands were intertwined, both of them shivering in the cold. 

“We were looking for meat. Sausage, if you have it. And a few nails so we can fix our fence.” The man said, fidgeting with his jacket. 

“Of course! Anything to help out a loyal customer. Just let me go and grab them from the back.” I said cheerfully, forcing a big smile. I wasn’t prone to very much facial expression myself, but trying to mimic The Duke definitely helped. It was almost like putting on a costume.

I traversed back into the caravan, rooting around for what was needed. I kept my ears perked to listen to the customers as I unraveled a rope of thick sausages, placing them gently into a pristine paper bag. 

“I wonder where that girl came from. The boy too.” The woman said. “The Duke has seemed to take quite a shining to the two of ‘em, and it looks like The Lords don’t mind them too much either. Surprised Dimitrescu hasn’t taken that maiden for herself.” 

I felt ice shoot through my bloodstream. The girl. The boy too. A sour feeling entered my mouth. My partner didn’t go by any gender, and me… Well, it seems that my binder didn’t work well enough today. Really, I suppose it was my voice that gave me away. I had always felt disconnected from its lilting, high pitch. I hunched my shoulders and huffed, finishing packaging their order. It couldn’t be helped. A lot of people couldn’t understand.

I approached the front of the caravan, wanting this transaction to be over as soon as possible. “Here you go.” I said, doing my best to open up the back of my throat and make my voice sound deeper. Foolish and a waste of time, I’m sure. “Everything is packed up now. I hope that you find it all to be of the highest quality. If you have any qualms, please come back to see us.” 

“Thank you ma’am.” The woman said as her husband dug around in his pockets for the appropriate amount of lei. “Such a sweet young girl. Where did you come from, dear?” 

My stomach twisted, and I did my best to keep the discomfort out of my voice. “Um… Further away. I left home, and stumbled across the village while looking for somewhere to camp.” I didn’t see the point in correcting them and starting up a whole new conversation that they likely wouldn’t or couldn’t want to understand. 

“How unfortunate. We’ve been having a lot of problems lately, miss.” The man said, counting up his lei. 

Tch. Did they have to keep gendering literally everything they say?! Geez.

“Like werewolves?” I couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Well, it’s definitely a step up from where I came.” 

“I suppose so. Especially with special treatment from the merchant.” The man sniffed, flinching when his wife elbowed him. 

“I’m sorry about that. He didn’t get enough sleep last night,” The woman apologized, handing me the lei. 

I nodded, smile tight and strained. “No problem! I do hope you get to feeling better.” I handed them their items and swallowed hard. “Have a wonderful rest of your day and good luck fixing your fence!!” 

They waved me off, and I slunk back into the caravan. I knew the village definitely had a few gossips, but I hadn’t imagined it would be so annoying. I had already heard some adolescents talking about how funny it was to see a woman with such short hair and a flat chest, chattering about my partner and I… I’d argue that the most dangerous thing in this village wasn’t the werewolves, but perhaps the strain on the villagers that had them biting at each other’s ankles… Or mine, at least. Maybe they’d eventually warm up to me like they did The Duke though. Even my partner was having an easier time settling in to it all. 

I guess I just felt out of place. The only time I did feel right was when I was curled into The Duke’s soft side, my hand entwined with my primary partner’s across his ample belly, their soft breaths lulling me into a comfortable slumber. 

My ears perked as the door to the back of the caravan opened. My primary partner stood there with a broad grin, eyes shining. “Hey there, dear!” They said happily. “We have a surprise for you. Well, Duke does, I’m just happy and along for the ride!” 

I cocked my head. A gift was certainly something to perk up the mood--and The Duke was certainly top tier at finding the perfect gifts… Who knows what he may have brought?

Speaking of The Duke, he leaned on his cane as he squeezed into the wagon. “Hello, my dear boy!” He said happily. His words sent flutters of delight through my stomach, making me smile. “I’ve got a bit of a gift for you. Something you’ve mentioned a few times. I hope you might like it!” 

I stepped forward, eyes glinting curiously. The Duke turned a bit, shutting the door to the wagon behind him. When he turned, a small black box was in his hands, seemingly procured from thin air. Without skipping a beat I came closer, feeling my cheeks pinken with shyness. “What is it?” 

“Well, you’ll have to open it to find out, won’t you?” The Duke smiled broadly, holding the box out. 

I took the box from his hands as he sat down, my partner bouncing with giddiness. I carefully unfolded the top, seeing that whatever was inside was wrapped in deep red satin, the color of blood. Fitting, for the village. Gingerly, I pulled the satin back, curiosity thrumming through my fingers. 

I gasped. 

A little vial, full of clear liquid, and a set of alcohol swabs, syringes, and band-aids. 

It couldn’t be. 

“Is… Is this…?” The words were so small in my throat, barely breaking out of my mouth. 

“It is.” The Duke nodded, clasping his hands together and smiling softly. “Testosterone.” 

Tears sprung to my eyes, a laugh emerging unbidden from me. Ever since I had come out, I had wanted to transition--but I had never had the opportunity in my old abusive home, and I imagined somewhere out here would never hold the chance either. I had dreamed of the changes for so long--a deeper voice, bottom growth, body hair, facial hair… Hell, even building more muscle easier so I could achieve the musclechub look I had always been enamored by! 

“How did you do it?” I choked out, pressing the back of my hand against my watery eyes. My primary partner was at my side, arm around my shoulders. They planted a kiss on my head, holding me tight. 

“Why, I can procure any goods I need!” The Duke laughed heartily. “It is only a matter of time before an item is in my hands. And now it’s yours, free of charge.” 

I sniffled. “Duke… I don’t know what to say. This is amazing. This is my greatest dream. Thank you. Thank you so much!” I handed the box to my primary partner and ran to him, throwing my arms out. He leaned forward, hulking arms wrapping into me and pulling me into him. “Thank you!” 

“Of course, my dear! Anything for you.” He planted a gentle kiss on my forehead as he pulled me up to his chest. “And I know from our conversations about hormone replacement therapy before that you had concerns about vaginal atrophy and hair loss. Remedies for those are on the way as well!” 

“You are amazing.” I said breathlessly. After all the abuse my primary partner and I had endured over the years, I never could have imagined that we would have ended up in a place so terrifying and yet...so safe. So like home. A place where dreams could come true. 

“Well thank you, my dear. The customer is always right!” He said cheekily. 

My primary partner approached, holding the box as if it were the most prized thing in the entire world. “My good sir,” They said with a flourish. “I believe it is time for your first injection of boy juice!” 

“Boy juice.” I repeated. “Wow.” Then took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s do it.” 

“Let me administer the first shot for you, to show you how it’s done.” The Duke said, lowering me into the seat next to him. 

I nodded, suddenly feeling my palms get sweaty. “Yes. That sounds nice. I’m a little scared of the needle.” I laughed nervously. “Hey hon...you think you could hold my hand?” 

My primary partner nodded, fingers intertwining with mine. “I’ll be right here.” 

The Duke took the box, balancing it on top of his belly. Carefully, he loaded up the syringe with the testosterone, making sure to get the air bubbles up and load the approximate dose. “Now now, my boy, the friend I got this from let me know that this is a subcutaneous injection, and we’ll be starting off with a lower dose to start, and then you can choose if you want to go lower or higher from there. If we can get a bit of your blood later, I’ll have another friend of mine run tests on it to make sure it’s safe.”

“Wow, you really can do anything and everything…” I smiled, shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re incredible, Duke.” I lowered my pants, revealing the skin on my thigh.

“Perhaps so, but you must know that you are just as wonderful. It is a pleasure to get to share my life with such a wonderful man.” The Duke said pleasantly, swabbing some skin on my thigh. “Truth be told, I had grown a bit lonely myself. Having you two as companions and then something more… Well, I have to say it’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” He sighed. “Ah, to love and be loved. One of life’s greatest joys, right next to lei.” 

My primary partner grinned. “Always with the lei.” 

“I’m a man who knows what he wants in life!” The Duke tapped the syringe with one finger. “Now, are you ready?” 

I looked to my primary partner, feeling as if some holy light was glowing behind my eyes. Starting now, I would be transitioning. I would be something new, something self made. I would be myself. They squeezed my hand, nodding encouragingly. “You got this.” 

I took a deep breath. “Alright, Duke. I’m ready.” 

[meaningofmischief]

Evil, Lying Scourge

Set immediately after the battle in the Timekeepers’ chamber. Loki and Renslayer go toe-to-toe as Loki creates the ultimately confronting conditions to force the truth of Sylvie’s Nexus Event from Renslayer.

The truth is devastating - can Loki and Sylvie survive it?

Loki and Sylvie were traumatized - that was near the only way to put it.

Hours ago they had resigned themselves to die together on an exploding moon.

They had been forcibly yanked into the clutches of the TVA at the last possible minute, restrained, separated, each subject to individual psychological tortures as all their remaining tatters of stability and freedom and friendship were ripped away from them one by one. Both prepared to meet their ends together again, and now even their impossible escape was ice cold comfort as they both examined in horror the head of the mindless android they had taken to be one of the three all-powerful Timekeepers. 

Not to mention the barely suppressed passion each felt for the other that roiled away like a wildfire between them - burning both the longer it went unacknowledged.

‘Then who,’ Loki’s voice broke for stress, ‘created the TVA?’. Sylvie felt choked by a sudden rage. Hurling the head of the android viciously across the floor of the chamber, she spat: ‘I thought this was it.’ They both had, of course.

A low moan startled them and they whipped around, mirrors of defense for the next attack, but the despised Ravonna Renslayer still lay passed out cold from the hefty blow Sylvie had dealt her not a minute before. 

B-15, the undisputed saviour of the pair of them, had finally regained consciousness after the massive strike to the head she had received at the hands of one of the Timekeepers’ specialist defense team. They had not treated her mercifully while she was down either, delivering unnecessarily cruel, wounding kicks to the woman they saw as the traitor in their midst. 

Sylvie reacted as if by instinct and rushed straight to B-15’s side, running practiced hands down the Hunter’s limbs to assess for fractures or broken bones. Loki could only marvel - for all her uncompromising toughness, Sylvie’s unconscious impulse was to compassion, a quality that he found at times miserably difficult to access, which frustrated him to no end, especially when he considered how yet more painful Sylvie’s past had been to his own.

‘Nothing broken.’ Sylvie’s soft reassurance to B-15 snapped Loki out of his reverie. ‘But those arseholes didn’t go easy on you by any means. Do you think you can walk?’ There was a flash of fire in the resilient Hunter’s eyes and she opened her mouth to deliver a stinging retort before Sylvie broke out into a warm smile and there was a brief moment of kinship between these two fearsome warriors.

‘Still,’ continued Sylvie bluntly, ‘I’m not having you risk your life to save us only to pass out in one of these obscure corridors where no-one’ll find you for the next week. I’m gonna see you to the infirmary and you can’t stop me.’ She was busy helping B-15 struggle painfully to her feet when Loki murmured, gravelly, ‘Sylvie. Is that wise?’ 

Sylvie glowered. Whatever difficult feelings she had for this man, he was not about to tell her what to do. Luckily B-15 interceded, voice tight with pain, but determined nonetheless: ‘I know how we can do this. Variant -’, she checked herself, ‘L-Loki. Take out Ravonna’s Tempad from her jacket.’ 

Loki’s skin crawled but he nevertheless did as she commanded, crouching down to where Ravonna still lay knocked out, reaching inside her jacket to retrieve the rectangular Tempad, surprisingly heavy in his palm. He handed it uncertainly to B-15 who snapped it open and began pressing buttons with a confident ease that seemed to indicate she knew exactly what she was doing. ‘There,’ she said smugly after 30 seconds or so, ‘the warrant for my capture has been deleted. And don’t worry,’ her gaze flitted over to Loki and in that brief glance Loki knew that B-15 had perceptively ascertained the depth of his attachment to Sylvie, ‘nothing is going to happen to that Variant on my watch. The store cupboard for this unit is right next to the infirmary, so we’ll get her a uniform to act as a disguise on the way back.’ B-15’s eyes narrowed, and Loki knew she was fighting hard what must be a tremendous amount of pain. She handed the Tempad back to Loki and he felt incredibly humbled by the action. Sylvie helped her very gently to the elevator door. ‘Promise me,’ B-15 whispered through gritted teeth as she turned to face Loki one last time, ‘that you’ll bring this place to the ground.’ Loki nodded once, slow and solemn - forcing himself to believe that such a thing was possible when so much lay still unknown. He and Sylvie locked gazes, and Loki longed to cross to the elevator doors in a handful of strides, hold her so close to him, take her face in his hands… Stop. He forced himself to focus right now, for all of their sakes. He only held her gaze as the elevator doors closed, and then they were gone. 

Loki exhaled, and it came out mostly as a sob. He closed his eyes to withhold the tears which he felt welling in their sea-green depths. He had held himself together all this while for Sylvie, but now, standing alone in the cold, misty chamber - he felt assaulted by uncertainty and fear. And sorrow. He so wished for Mobius, for his friend, who was always so grounded and strong - a master of strategy. Loki’s gift for style and verbal artistry were rendered useless in a situation such as this and he felt utterly incompetent and broken.

‘You can be whatever - whoever - you wanna be. Even someone good. I mean just in case anyone ever told you different.’

Loki’s eyes snapped open, shining with salt water and yet never so determined as now.

No.

He had the ability to stand up and make his own choices, and that started now. Not his first act of defiance against whatever cruel authority had created this suffocating institution of control, and certainly not his last. 

He knew what he needed to do, and he needed to do it for Sylvie - while he had this rapidly diminishing window and before they set about trying to achieve the impossible in burning this place to the ground.

And before he told her that he loved her. 

Loki stooped and grimly retrieved his Time Collar where it lay on the floor after B-15 had freed him of it. He was going to need it, unfortunately. He opened the Tempad and after a short while as he got to grips with its functions, a Time Door with a subtle magenta sheen opened up next to him.

Panicked breathing behind him.

Good, she was awake. 

Loki wasted no time, seizing Renslayer none too gently by the lapel of her jacket. She foggily tried to resist him, but before her blurry vision had even cleared, she felt the Time Collar wrap constrictingly around her neck, felt Loki haul her to her feet and unceremoniously push her through the Time Door ahead of him.

The Asgardian bedchamber was light and airy and warm - a stark contrast to the cool, damp darkness of the place they had emerged from. Loki looked around briefly, instantly wistful, recognising the arch of the ceiling, the pristine white marble floor, even smelling the heady summer scents of his old home. It made his heart ache even more - if that was possible at this stage. He was quickly distracted, however, by Ravonna’s wild sprint away from his side. She had regained her full mental capacity now, but was seized by terror at the situation - at the mercy of the Variant and whatever tortures he could concuct for her.

Loki fiercely loathed to play the jailor - even to someone as worthy of harsh treatment as Renslayer - but he needed her attention. He turned the dial of the Time Twister and in an instant Renslayer was back at his side. Though the logical part of Ravonna’s brain knew it was fruitless, she tried to break away from him several more times, just as Loki had tried upon his capture. Eventually Loki seized her by the arm and made her turn to look at the scene before them.

Throughout the chaos the little girl seated on the floor had payed them no heed. Not that she could. This was what the TVA quaintly referred to as an ‘Observant Loop Cell’ - of course obnoxiously abbreviated to OLC. An OLC was designed not to punish prisoners into submission but rather to force them to reflect on situations they had experienced - made to watch those situations over and over and unable to help, hinder or manipulate any of the figures within it. 

Loki himself had had no idea what to expect when he had found Variant L1129’s file on Renslayer’s Tempad, and created an OLC of the Variant’s apprehension. He had briefly had a vision of the young, out-of-control Goddess of Mischief, terrorizing Asgard - effecting pain and suffering, destruction and death so devastating that there was no choice but to send up a smoke flare, a Nexus Event. It did not fit in the slightest with what he perceived of Sylvie’s true character, but he could think of no other reasonable explanation. He did certainly not expect this angelic child, playing as any child would, with her toys. Loki felt a pang of unhappiness as he remembered his own childhood days, he never could play nicely. It was all borne of resentment and jealousy: Father would always ensure Thor had the most luxurious selection of toys, and he was anyway keen that both of his sons stopped messing around with playthings as early as possible and go out for battle training with the young sons of Asgardian nobility instead. Where Thor thrived in the competitive, loud environment of the training ground, Loki shrank into himself. Self-conscious, anxious, lacking the warrior’s bulk that all the other boys seemed to possess, the young prince found himself more often than not in a corner with a few books and some of the toys his father scorned - to make up his own stories in his own time. The other boys mocked him endlessly, tore pages out of the books, stole the miniature figurines of Valkyrie and other great warriors. Loki had eventually learned to be as harsh and cruel as they - only his power to hurt came from his intelligence rather than brawn.

This little girl was anything but harsh and cruel, hurt and isolated. Yes, she was alone, but she seemed to relish that independence - making her own stories up in her own time. ‘Dragon swoops towards the palace, but Valkyrie flies over, defeats the dragon and saves Asgard!’ she crowed, face alit at the conclusion of what had evidently been an epic story. Loki couldn’t suppress a small smile, though he knew that any moment there must be some great catastrophe which would set off the Nexus Event. Ravonna seemed to have frozen at his side - both were caught up in their individual perception of the events unfolding before their eyes.

When the golden Time Door opened mere seconds later, Loki gasped in disbelief, gaze flitting around the room and then back to Sylvie as he tried to ascertain what could have caused the Nexus and finding no evidence at all. Ravonna stiffened next to him as they both saw none other than Ravonna Renslayer - or more precisely Hunter A-20 - in clear command of the two Minutemen flanking her, hold out her Tempad before her and certify in a cold, triumphant voice: ‘There’s our variant.’ Sylvie’s eyes were huge and frightened as Renslayer continued without pause: ‘On the authority of the Timekeepers, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline’, as though she were addressing some notorious criminal and not a terrified little girl.

‘Where’s the Nexus?!’ Loki thought, increasingly desperate and distressed as the OLC Renslayer seized Sylvie by her skinny arm and wrenched her towards the Time Door. It all happened very quickly then. The Minutemen set their Reset Charge which immediately began its task of disintegrating Sylvie’s possessions - anything and everything that indicated that she had ever been in this room. Sylvie screamed, high-pitched, shaking in Renslayer’s grasp: ‘Wait!!!’. Loki resisted the urge to run to her aid, knowing it would be completely useless. Then Sylvie and Renslayer gone, followed by the Minutemen, the Time Door snapped shut and Loki and his Renslayer stood facing one another in a deafening silence in the handful of seconds of respite prisoners would receive before the loop started again.

Tears were clouding Loki’s vision, but he blinked them away angrily. ‘Why?’ was the only thing he said - in a voice several octaves below his usual speaking voice. Renslayer shook her head and pressed her lips together, though her chest heaved at the fraught situation. Loki growled softly and resisted the urge to hurt her - to make her talk.

No.

That was what he would have done in the past, he would not descend to such base measures now.

He didn’t need to, the loop was already starting again. Loki felt as though his heart would fairly break in two as he watched the young Sylvie skip into her bedroom, arms full of her toys, setting them out, beginning to play. ‘You’re going,’ he spat at Renslayer ‘to stand here with me and watch this as many times as it takes for you to tell me what the Nexus event was that made you rip an innocent young girl’s life away from her and force her on the run for her entire life. I don’t care how long it takes. You’re going to tell me.’

In reality that wasn’t exactly true - Sylvie and B-15 had almost certainly reached the infirmary by now and if Sylvie made it back to the Timekeepers’ chamber to find it empty, to think that she had been abandoned by her one companion (and perhaps more than that) in the universe… It nearly had Loki sending them both back to the TVA instantly. But Renslayer was breaking already, he could see it, as he forced her to watch the abject cruelty, cruelty at her hands, again and again. By the third viewing, Renslayer’s eyes brimmed with tears and Loki would gladly have wept openly. By the fifth, she started to hyperventilate, made to move away. Loki turned the Time Twister’s dial and she was jarred back into place. On the sixth viewing, just as the OLC Renslayer was about to seize Sylvie, she abruptly screamed: ‘Enough! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you.’

Both breathed out in relief, when Loki pressed the button on the Tempad that cut the loop and everyone in the scene disintegrated immediately. He turned to face her and forced out between his teeth: ‘Do not try to lie to the God of Mischief. You have no idea how acutely I am attuned to falsehoods. You will tell me in every horrifying detail about this Nexus Event, or I will leave you in this Time Cell and bury this Tempad in the deepest crevice of the TVA where no one will ever, ever find it. Now TELL ME.’

Renslayer took a deep breath to steady herself, closed her eyes and spoke with a surprisingly steady voice: ‘The Variant was deviating from her role on the Sacred Timeline.’ Loki snarled: ‘Obviously! What was the deviation?’. Renslayer opened her eyes and locked her chocolate brown eyes with his green ones. ‘A Loki,’ she said, slowly, as though choosing her words carefully, ‘does not get to travel the kind of path that that Variant was on.’ Loki rushed to intercede, but Renslayer narrowed her eyes, warning him not to interrupt her.

‘It was a mistake that she ever got as far as she did. Our technology advances every day - it’s now so accurate that we can nip burgeoning Nexus events like this one in the bud.’ Loki was amazed that she could speak in such clinical terms about the organisation that had only very recently been revealed to have three mindless robots as its figureheads. But Renslayer’s voice ran with conviction which only strengthened as she continued: ‘Lokis are so very tricky. It’s an incredible rarity that any being is allowed so much leeway as they have been, and we have all had to suffer the consequences of that. You see, due to your natures as shapeshifters, this Variant being born the Goddess rather than the God of Mischief was no cause for a Nexus flare. But of course in the archaic society that you are raised in, the ridiculous difference in gender is of massive significance. Recall that only male heirs are permitted to succeed the throne of Asgard. In your case, informing you of your adoption would have caused colossal problems for King Odin - that would have had ramifications across Asgard, not to mention potential rebellion from you yourself. Odin was under no illusions of how much more intelligent you were than his legitimate son, and how that would have fused with the arrogance of princehood to create the ultimate cuckoo within the sparrow’s nest - an utterly unacceptable scenario. Far better to keep that knowledge from you, even if it did mean that you grew up confused and resentful - emotions Odin could easily ignore. Far better to have you treated as the bastard son, who he would insidiously try to manipulate to his own ideals, who might possibly one, highly unlikely day, be fit for the throne should Thor be killed in battle before his heir was old enough to succeed the throne.’

‘Of course, for a girl, Odin had no such concerns. He took the child from Jotunheim out of some scrap of pity, and because she could prove useful in negotiating with the Jotuns at a later date. A princess had no chance of succeeding the throne, not to mention an illegitimate one, who would likely be married off to some lowborn noble as soon as she had come of age. So Odin told the Variant of her adoption. And somehow, ludicrously, that knowledge failed to break the Variant, it only made her stronger. She took pride in her differences from her family and the rest of Asgard, her inclination to independence rather than company, her delight of mischief. Where she should have been enraged, embittered and vengeful, she was courageous, compassionate and creative.’

‘Excuse me,’ Loki hissed, interrupting Renslayer’s monologue, ‘where she SHOULD have been?’. Despite the fact that she had found herself at his mercy, Renslayer sneered at him. ‘Of course-’ she continued, seeming to try to gain the upper hand over him with the knowledge she was revealing, ‘a Loki is an evil, lying scourge, like you. Where would be the heroes of the Timeline without the villains? That Variant had a role to play, same as you, same as all of us, and she went off the path. Whoever heard of a heroic Goddess of Mischief?’. Ravonna’s voice cracked slightly on the last sentence as she bore witness to Loki’s murderous expression. ‘So what you’re saying,’ he replied with devastating calm ‘is that Sylvie lost her home, her family, her life, because she would one day grow up to be kind and just, to be her own person? Oh, no one is truly good or truly bad, but the TVA decrees that not to be so.’ His voice grew more intense and Renslayer shrank before him. ‘Because whatever devil puppetmaster is controlling the TVA, they like to have their play made interesting - with villains to cause destruction and heroes to save the day?’. Renslayer was at a loss for words, but Loki had heard enough. He pressed a button on the Time Twister he held and Ravonna sank ungraciously to the floor, unconscious once more. One of the functions the delightful Twister could enact was to reverse the prisoner’s physiological state - mainly meant for various exotic creatures the TVA brought in, that could effect all sorts of trouble as a result of their innate biology, but in this case merely necessary to give Loki a moment to take in what he had just experienced. He couldn’t quite do it.

Only concern for Sylvie forced Loki to action, and he opened up the door back to the Timekeepers’ chamber using the Tempad, dragging the unconscious Ravonna back through with him. Despite what he had said, he would never consign anyone to spend their life trapped in one of the hideous Time Cells. He removed her Time Collar too, and flung it to a far corner of the chamber, repulsed that it had had to come to him using one of the TVA’s disgusting methods of control to get the information he needed.

His thoughts left Renslayer entirely behind as the elevator doors opened and Sylvie emerged not a moment too soon, yanking off the breastplate and trousers of the TVA Minutemen she had worn as a disguise over her usual black top and trousers. Now that Sylvie’s purpose had been achieved, she too seemed utterly spent as she staggered over to where Loki stood staring at her. Both failed to speak for several moments and then Loki rasped, with a voice that sounded unused for days, ‘Sylvie. Sylvie, I need to tell you something.’

Sylvie’s deep blue eyes widened, her heart began to pound like a wild drum in her chest. ‘What?’ she could only say as Loki struggled to find the words for what he had just learned.

When it was over, they both started to cry. 

Loki and Sylvie had never been ones for excessive, histrionic displays of emotion. They had had to armour themselves in toughness and charm and mischief and wit all their lives despite the turbulence that roared inside of them. 

And now here the both of them stood, silent but for the ragged intake of breath as they struggled to bring themselves under some semblance of control. 

Eventually they stopped. Each observed the other’s tear-streaked face.

‘Sylvie...’ Loki said again. The word seemed to ground him and her at the same time.

‘Not another pep talk please.’ Sylvie uttered with a weak attempt at humour, that fell flat instantly with the sheer desperation in her tone.

‘No. I have to tell you something else.’

Sylvie wasn’t sure that she could handle anything else.

Loki stepped closer to her, and avoided her gaze, his breathing picking up again.

Sylvie felt herself instinctively mirroring him, and forced herself to focus.

Loki looked her in the eyes.

‘We will figure this out.’ 

It really was too much.

‘How do you know that?’ How was there any certainty about anything anymore?

‘Because, uh -’ Loki’s near-gasping for air cut him off and he twisted his sweaty hands together. 

‘Well, back on Lamentis…’ It was all too impossible to explain. Loki gestured helplessly, trying to find the beginnings of some clever story that had never failed to come to him with infinite ease before and now completely failed him.

He gave up. His arms dropped to his sides. 

‘This is new for me. Um -’ Loki’s heart raced in his chest and the sound seemed amplified, obliterating his thoughts. They were a tangle of grief and passion and...and love - a tangle that was impossible to reconcile.

Loki turned his hands towards his heart, as though it could speak for him.

‘What?’ Sylvie breathed, hardly daring to speak, her own heart pulsing just as intensely.

They would figure this out. They would. Some very deep and very soulful part in both of them, inextricably linking one to the other, knew it. Loki clasped her upper arms, barely believing himself.

I love you Sylvie. Sylvie I love you. Sylvie I will always love you - you beautiful spirit of mischief. Sylvie, we are free and we will figure this out. I love you Sylvie, I love you.

‘If it were now to die, ‘twere now to be most happy.’ thought Loki, even as he felt the icy touch of Ravonna Renslayer’s weapon seize his heart and rip its chill through his body, as Sylvie watched him disintegrate right before her eyes which never left his - as he was transported to some realm of chaos where the God of Mischief would navigate the labyrinth back to his Goddess so that he could speak those words unsung softly in her ear before bending down to her lips and watching the TVA burn.

- Inspired by a fantastic suggestion from asgardian1112! More suggestions for future stories gladly welcome!

[aquirius555-musings]

Pursuing Your Purpose Over Grabbing the Bag

The Necessity of Motivation in Pursuit of Wealth 

Being a witch with ADHD can be contradictory at times. And now is one of them. I am confident that wealth follows and it does not lead. I am comfortable not leading my life in pursuit of wealth. However, I am still a human existing on this planet, a planet where wealth not only leads, but having some form of income is a necessity for survival. For most, a steady income is a necessity for creating a comfortable, safe, and healthy environment to prosper in this decaying world. 

I am in a position where I have less wealth than I ever have before, but I have also achieved more dreams than I ever have before. I am living in a place I have dreamed about since I was young. I am living among the mountains and the great glory of this Earth’s nature and all it has to offer. I am living with and building a family of humans and animals that love me greatly and our soulmates of mine. I am living as a witch who believes in my value and abilities. 

These things drive my passion, my hope, and my willingness to do more than simply survive. My willingness to always push to be thriving. What doesn’t drive this will to live fully is paid work, perceived achievement/success, and valuing profit. 

It is very difficult for me to “show up” as my full self or with 100% energy when I am not intrinsically motivated by the values I consider most important. These are things I typically do and express in spades. Especially, in critical situations and oftentimes to a fault or to the great annoyance of others. 

However, I’ve learned the hard way in my adult years that when I try to pursue things that don’t fulfill my soul purpose or innermost values, I not only fail, but I suffer greatly, relapse, and regress. 

ADHDilemma 

As I referenced in my introductory post, I was a high-achiever growing up. This is also a result of being an AFAB person and an empath with severe ADHD. I knew all the rules, I studied hard, I hyper-focused, I hyper-felt, I had way too many varied interests that were always changing, I wanted to win, to be loved as I was, and I took rejection and torment to heart. This allowed me to rise up as a star student, star sibling, star employee. I masked the qualities and behaviors that I was ashamed of or the ones that led to torment, rejection, or guilt. 

You see,  I could read other people and knew when I was upsetting them or when they were intentionally upsetting me. This made it easy to designate different emotions, behaviors, reactions, and conflicts into different buckets in my head. There were buckets that were safe to dump out in public, within a specific system, or with certain people, and others that were not. I became a masked person instead of myself.

What societal rules mixed with my persona and neuro-status didn’t allow me to do was love myself, and therefore, it prevented me from being a star-friend, or at least being friends with those who had my best interest at heart. More than that, the lack of love I had for myself regressed my ability to be a caretaker for myself, to be spiritually aligned, and ultimately to be happy. I let so many people victimize me throughout my life because of this and therefore have accumulated my own traumas along the way.

I have now learned so much about myself, unlearned so many unhealthy habits and behaviors, worked through a lot of trauma, embraced so many emotions and qualities about myself. This makes it heartbreakingly difficult for me to face what I call “the old me”. I really do not align with this person anymore, and I don’t really feel them in me at the deepest levels, but at the surface they are fully present. 

Old Habits Die Slowly and Painfully

This “old me” knew how to present on LinkedIn, in the professional world, knew how to do what I needed to do to get the job, to fit in, to lead the group, to follow the leader. Whatever was needed of me, I did it. 

I am now in a really tough financial position. I don’t have enough money to pay my bills, get medicine, go to therapy, take my pets to the vet*, get groceries, get more soil for my plants, etc. I know that I need to make money, and I know that the thing stopping me has been restraining myself from pursuing higher-income gigs. I have been fearful that I won’t “make it” in this new field that I am pursuing and that I left my corporate job to pursue. This has been stopping me from taking the leap into freelance writing gigs, into seeking out magazines or sites to submit stories too, to recording my first podcast episode, to finish setting up my profiles for freelance sites that are connected to my LinkedIn or require examples of my work. 

*Both my pets had full vet exams in April, I have simply not been able to afford a visit to a new vet for either pet since we moved. They are healthy.

Instead of going for these things that may make me more money AND fulfill the want and need I have to try to write and create content for things I am passionate about, I am settling for much less. Getting low $/hour to do low-brain-capacity work. A big part of this is feeling like I won’t be represented as I am now and for what I want to be doing, but rather for the “old me” because of the work I’ve done in the past for tech companies or consultants. The buyers of the work I want to do won’t have any specifically-relevant work to review. And the buyers of the work I used to do don’t want someone like me and I don’t want to write for those types of topics anyway. 

So why am I stopping myself from presenting in my full form online? Why am I not believing in myself to do the things I went to school for, live and breathe and consciously learn about with my time? 

Because I was always told that to succeed in business or in any field or industry, you need experience, presentation, professionalism, etc. And these things have always been defined through a straight, white, and male-driven lens. This means no tattoos, no colored hair, no piercings, no political issues or talk (even though what I want to discuss isn’t political to me, even if it’s politicized by the public). Why, no matter how much I oppose and despise those who set these “precedents and standards” do I still give in to them?

Because old habits die slowly, painfully, and only with a lot of work and resilience is it even possible. 

Shadow Work Makes a Great Assassin!

The only one qualified to kill off these old, and frankly unwelcome, habits is with an old friend - Shadow Work. Suffice it to say, I think all of this means that Shadow Work is calling my name. It’s time to have a real focus on this as I also work to pursue my creative and professional dreams. 

Shadow work allows us all to go inside and break down these old habits, old traumas, old blocks that come back our way to try and break down our soul. Consulting, tending to, and loving your shadow self can allow one to break free of these things, or even better, allow them to work for you and propel you on your journey to achieve your soul’s purpose.

To get started, I am working with this very poignant Full Moon that takes place tomorrow at its highest illumination. I have some shadow-work journal prompts, a Full Moon spell, and a ritual planned. 

I guess sometimes, being an ADHD witch has it’s upsides too. Witchcraft is a tool that really helps me live a meaningful life despite the struggles that come with my ADHD. I am who I am, and embracing the intersections of these two identifying pieces of me allows me to pursue my soul’s purpose.

- Aquirius (July 2021)

[thernrtwinsofficial]

It's 4 am and my hooman insisted on me posting her cat strategies... she should be sleeping...

Anyways who am I to question that.

Understanding Your Cat

So I'm just going to say this first: all cats are UNIQUE. They are not dogs, who are almost always the same. Some of these might not work for all cats, but this is just a GENERAL GUIDE. Please do not get mad if not all of this works.

So, cats. They are perhaps the ultimate carnivores, yet somehow, we have managed to tame them twice. Currently, there are two lineages your furry friend may have come from. This does not mean much for behavior, health, etc, it's just something interesting about your cat's past.

All cats stem from one of two heritage: Egyptian, or Mesopotamian. Both were very early cultures built around the middle East, and both were the territories of a genus known as "wild cats." These furballs dominated much of the old world, and they are the ancestors of our cats. Most cats tend to be dominantly from Egypt, as many were smuggled from there for their value both in trade and in pest control. A lot of cats still have at least some of the Mesopotamian side, and some are dominantly of that lineage.

But once again, this does not change the basic cat behavior. It's just interesting to know.

Basic cat language that humans have the ability to perceive is made up of mostly body language. Cats put their tails to use especially, and watching their tails can be very important when gauging your cat's mood.

A happy cat will have their tails up and erect, and the extra little twitch at the tip signals extreme joy in your presence.

A tail that is thrashing about or pounding on the ground signals that they are not very happy in this situation.

When their tail is down, this means caution, or curiosity. Curiosity can also be signalled with a tail shaped like a question mark, which is very fitting if you ask me.

A puffed up tail means they are either hyper, angry, or scared. This is not one you want to be around for.

When a cat is sad or lonely, their tail will usually be all the way down, like their mood.

Gaining a cat's trust can be very hard and take awhile, but here are a couple signals for you and your cat to shoot at each other.

Slowly blinking is a sign of uninterest in attacking. Cats will often make heavy eye contact when aggressive or in battle, so try to avoid this all together at least in the early stages.

Getting low to the ground shows submissivness and the urge to avoid conflict. If you can, lay down when trying to socialize with your cat so they know you are not a threat.

If your cat starts to get stressed, here are a couple suggestions. All cats are different, so these may not all work.

-Find some music they like! I've found that my cats like Alternative and bird songs. Some of the shelter cats i have worked with enjoyed calm piano, running water, and forest sounds. One of them went totally docile when I played it.

-Give them distractions! Bring in their favorite toy, or get them something that would smell interesting. If you can get then to think about something else, the problem could fade as a whole.

-Get a safe zone! I have met a number of cats who feel much better in little tents or boxes, so getting a safe zone for your kitty is a must. For my cats, my entire room is their safe zone. They have access to a large rug, a bed, a cat bed, and a dark closet with a number of nooks and crannies. Figuring out what your cat may enjoy as a safe zone is key to a better life.

-Give them some love! If your cat is especially attached to one person, get them to come in the room. Sometimes they just need somebody familiar and comforting.

Finding your cat's personal language and signals is just as important as any of these tips I have shared, so be sure to keep adding to the list of things your cat does as signals. It can make a big difference in your cat's overall quality of life.

- The "certified cat whisperer" of Racer & Rhino

[captain-barnes-writes]

Someone Like You [5/6]

Summary: In which Sebastian tries to win you back a year and a half after your relationship’s rupture, but only because there’s a new man in your life. [Part 5]

(Mini-series)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Latina

Warning: Angst (LOTS) , language, 18+. 

NOT PROOFREAD so watch out for lots of errors.

Word count: 4.5k

You’d avoided thinking of Sebastian for a good portion of the morning, but he was creeping back into your head forbidding you from forgetting what had happened just last night. Upon arriving at your hotel room the night before, you had turned into a weeping mess while still clad in your beautiful satin dress, a huge contrast to the ugly emotions that were seeping out of you. Sobs had wracked through your body to the point it had become hard to breathe.

The strong smell of him lingered on your body as if taunting you that he still owned every part of your being. Despite everything, despite the many months apart and despite the very reason why things had not worked out he still had an effect on you. Even after you’d jumped into the shower to wash the night away, especially to rid of his scent and the smell of sex that had followed you, you could still feel his lingering hands on you, the wet trail his lips would leave on your skin. As if taunting you, his scent was still present even in your room. You couldn’t escape him.

He still managed to pull at your every heartstring. It was the silky locks, the azure eyes with the crinkles on each end and that toothy grin of his. It was the way a single glance your way and you were a puddle at his feet, melting for him. But whatever happened last night had been a mistake, he was a part of your past and had to stay there. Yet you still found yourself pondering over how after so much time he could hold such a part of you, tight and permanent. The fluttering sensation in your belly, and pressure on your chest weighing heavy and electric that he induced with just one glance let you know that he was still very much a part of you. And when he looked at you, kissed you, let alone put his hands anywhere on you? It was a magnetic force so strong it left you breathless.

With a heavy chest and an even heavier heart, you thought of how you’d become pathetic and submissive all over again with just a mere touch of his. So puddy in his hands, holding onto every word that fell from his lips. His hands had been so greedy, wanting to hold you and kiss you all at once. He’d been everywhere, placed his large hands on every single part of your body. And you couldn’t lie to yourself, couldn’t deny the deep attraction that was clearly still present.

The magnetic pull, the sexual tension and desperation that had surrounded both your glistening bodies the night before was an engraved image in your head; pinned to your mind not letting you forget how he’d felt inside you. How he took you with such force, kissed you as if your lips were his only mean of survival.  It was memorable what you’d both shared. Raw and emotional and in its wake left a gaping hole in your heart.

Despite how good it had felt while it happened, once it ended everything felt as if it had come crashing down. Like shattering glass around you, falling, breaking and so very loud, your mind had woken you from the bliss that had been shared in that stuffy closet. Like an alarm that rang and rang and the only way of shutting it off was the very act of leaving. Again. And so you did, you ran off once again from the man who’d held your heart almost two years ago and had refused to care for it. Refused to hold only you and you alone. He’d been valiant enough to corner you and take you again with such confidence, then you were valiant enough of walking away too.

But this time it felt different. Horribly different because there was pain growing inside, building up and tormenting you. You had been unfaithful. It didn’t matter that the relationship with Romeo was not yet serious or that he was away in a different country at the moment, none of that mattered because your desire for Sebastian shouldn’t have clouded what reality was in the first place. Nothing should have made you forget your morals and had you commit such a sinful act. It felt as if the guilt was diminishing you if you didn’t come clean or at least put pause on the budding relationship.

As if he had an extra sense, your phone rang next to you breaking you from the torturous thoughts that had been clawing at you. Romeo’s name appeared on the screen, his contact picture blank. Swallowing loudly with tears already brimming your eyes, you took a hold of your phone with shaky hands. God, what the hell were you going to say?

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out when you finally answered. Voice low and dull, nothing compared to the usual silkiness and cheerfulness that laced it.

“What is going on, Y/N?” Romeo’s boomed through the phone. The background noise was distracting, loud chattering in Spanish could be heard.

“What?” You felt slightly shaken at the tone of his voice, he didn’t sound like the sweet Romeo you’d grown used to hearing. He sounded different and, dare say, impolite without even a simple greeting to start the conversation off.

“I’m not a fool, Y/N. What the fuck happened yesterday? What are all these pictures of you and that damn actor from those Marvel movies?” He paused, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard and the background noise was slowly disappearing. “They’re circulating everywhere to the point that people keep tagging me on that shit.”

You shouldn’t have, but a wave of relief washed through you. He was referring to Chris and at the mention of him you wanted to laugh. Even he thought the same as the media and besides the relief, you also felt upset.

“Oh, that...I got really anxious during the red carpet and he was nice enough to help me out. Walked me inside the venue and all. After the awards, we were just chatting.”

“You’re making me look like a fool. My whole team thinks so too.” It was apparent that he was only concerned about his image and the way people perceived him. It was disappointing to hear the roughness of his voice, accusatory and unkind. Though deep inside you were telling yourself that you deserved this type of treatment. You deserved it because even though he was upset about something that had not even happened, there was still something to be upset about. He just didn’t know what.

“I can’t befriend people because it makes you look bad? That makes no sense.” The words had flown past your lips before you could even think. You wanted to take the accusations, forgive them because you’d done something awful, but you weren’t that type of person anymore. You didn’t let men walk all over you.

“That looked more than friendly to me.”

“Yes, to you. My line of job has me meeting people constantly, as does yours, so either you get used to it or you don’t.” You had no filter. The words were just coming out without much thought. You wanted to be calm and let him continue accusing you using the harsh edge in his voice because you deserved it. You felt like he had every right to treat you this way, to denounce your behavior because he was right it had been more than friendly. It had become more than friendly just not with Chris, but with a different man he didn’t even know about.

“¿Qué estás diciendo? Se clara conmigo.” What are you saying? Be clear with me.

“You heard me. I’m not going to sit here and let you accuse me of anything. ” You responded, voice somewhat shaky. You were pleading with yourself to let you be firm and to keep an even voice, but your eyes were already welling up with tears for the second time in less than a day.

“Don’t embarrass me anymore,  that’s all I’m asking.” He couldn’t be serious, you thought. The world didn’t revolve around him.

“Vete a la verga.” Go to hell.

And you hung up the phone. You didn’t know what had come over you. You wanted so badly to take the treatment and the accusations because you were worthy of them. Despite Romeo’s true colors that were coming to light, you had still done him wrong. You’d slept with another man and now you had probably just ended a relationship not even over that, but because of another man whom you had nothing to do with. You were an awful person.

Although you were an emotional mess and felt like one too your mind drifted to what Romeo had said about being tagged in certain pictures. You became curious and despite the state of being you were in, curiosity always overrode anything.

Grabbing your phone again you did the one thing you were advised to never do, google yourself. Upon typing your name in the search bar and hitting the search button, instead of it being about you it was about none other than Chris Evans. High quality pictures had surfaced the web the moment your anxiety fiasco happened last evening and it had become an even bigger deal today.

Y/N flirts with Chris Evans.

Romeo who? Y/N cuddles up to Chris Evans.

You pressed your face back into the pillow and groaned loudly. The sound echoed in the empty room as the city of Angels boomed below you. You were upset that even the sweet interaction such as yours and Chris could be taken so out of context. The man was no doubt an Adonis, you weren’t blind and you’d be a liar if you said your heart hadn’t beat faster at the sight of him yesterday. But it had all been so innocent and his gentlemanly actions had been genuine and with no underlying intentions. It was nothing but friendly.  He’d been gallant, extending his arm so you could hook yours through it to get you out of the dramatic disaster that had been your red carpet experience. That was it. People were insatiable with their yearning for new information on people’s personal lives, wanting every little detail.

You’d taken pictures with other people at the after party and those pictures were out there too, but the media had clawed at those images that included Chris and ran with them. Of course, he was single and any woman who crossed his path was apparently dating him. You hated that now you were rumored to be one of them.

You were now a fuse of different emotions. Sadness because your relationship had just ended through a phone call, guilt because you’d been unfaithful and a flare of anger because you couldn’t believe your interaction with Chris had been taken as otherwise.

You saved one of the images to your camera roll. You were upset because many things in your life had come tumbling down in a matter of hours, but you knew that only you could discredit rumors that had no foundation. You didn’t want to become a victim of the media and knew just how to fix this.

Just letting y’all know that @ChrisEvans noticed me become extremely anxious in the middle of the red carpet & was kind enough to walk me the rest of the way. That is all. Please don’t believe these dating rumors, men and women CAN be friends🙄

You typed on twitter and attached a picture of him being the perfect gentleman, your arm hooked to his, bearded face smiling while he led you down the carpet. The real fixture of the picture was the clearly agitated face expression you wore. Lips formed into a nervous smile, anxious with knitted brows, forehead creased.

Pleased with the words and image, you pressed send to your tweet and dropped your phone back onto the bed. It bounced on the very edge of the very edge of the bed, any sudden movements and it would fall to the floor but you didn’t care.

Your cheeks were still wet with tears. Eyes dull, saddened and you felt exhausted. Chest so heavy it felt as if a weight was on top of it. Crawling under the covers you decided that the only way to forget about everything at least for a few hours was to doze off into a deep sleep.

-------

When you arrived back in New York a few days later after having concluded with a packed schedule, the weather had significantly dropped. You noticed the way the trees were still continuing to change in colors and drop their foliage on the wet floor. The holiday season was commencing and the vibrant colors of lights and many christmas decorations were already up throughout the city. It was such a divine sight and provided a serene feeling throughout your body. It felt like such a contrast from the way life had been playing out for you the last few days. Everything had changed in such a short time.

Your apartment was exactly as you’d left it and because the temperature had dropped even being in the comfort of it you felt as if you were freezing so you’d turned on the heater. You’d spent the last few hours trying to forget what the reality of your personal life was by taking the christmas decorations from storage and beginning the process of decorating that you loved so much. The holiday season was one of your favorites and despite the emotional state you were in, bits of happiness had oozed into your aura.

Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon was rudely interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. You hadn’t contacted anybody in the last few days so nobody knew you were back in New York so you felt a little puzzled as to who it could be. You looked down at yourself in a haste noting that you were decent enough with your cozy oversized clothing. With a huff, you opened the door.

“Sebastian.” You sputtered out at the sight of the disheveled man. Like you, he was clad in comfortable clothing. Black sweats and a large jacket. With a shocked expression you noted how he looked so tired with dark undereye circles and he looked awfully cold standing in the hallway of your apartment complex.

“Hey.” Was all he said. His hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here?”

He remained quiet for a few seconds, his teeth biting the plushiness of his bottom lip. Sebastian was just standing there looking at you as if you were the one standing in his apartment. As if you’d been the one to show up to his place unannounced.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me, Y/N. But I really have to talk to you. Can I please come inside?” His azure eyes were almost pleading, gazing at you. Even in the situation you found yourself in you couldn’t help but take notice of how blue his eyes were in the light, gleaming and so pretty. It was inappropriate to even be thinking of him this way when he’d just asked you a question and you seemed to be stalling.

“Uh. I don’t know, Sebastian.” You were unsure if to let him in. You’d been so weak for him at a venue filled with hundreds of people that you didn’t trust yourself to be alone with him in your apartment.

“I just really have to talk to you. Please.” He was begging and looked so desperate for you to say yes. He looked so cold just standing there in the freezing hallway that his lips seemed chapped too. You were pitying him despite everything and thought how this was the exact reason why sometimes you were taken advantage of. You were too kind.

Regardless of how much internal battle was taking place within you, you nodded and pushed the door ajar to let him in. He walked into your living room, taking a seat on the love seat opposite you when you did too.  The atmosphere felt a little awkward.

“I can’t stop thinking about that night, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t have initiated it, but it felt so right at the time. And even now, it still feels right.” Sebastian started.

“That night wasn’t supposed to happen, Sebastian. I did something awful to someone I was in a relationship with by being unfaithful. And guess what?” You paused, slightly chucking at yourself and the way life seemed to be playing with you. “Not even a day after I cheated and we broke up. Not even because of us, by the way, but because of something completely unrelated. And now here you are in my living room almost a week after we had sex and I’m...lost.”

Sebastian’s gaze was glued on you, he looked desperate. But you didn’t know what he was desperate for. You were confused as to why he was in your apartment in the first place.

“I’m sorry about your relationship.”

“No you’re not.” Was your response. He wasn’t sorry at all, why would he be?

“My relationship just recently ended too. But this was a little bit before the awards show.” God, what did he want from you. You wanted to know why he was at your apartment but he was beating around the bush.

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry about that.” You unconsciously took your lip in between your teeth while looking down at your clasped hands. Your apartment was warmer now with the heater having been on for a few hours and you made a mental note to turn it off soon.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And this has been going on for a long time, Y/N. It’s not a recent thing. I think what triggered it even more was when I saw those music videos of you and...Well I felt extremely jealous. And I felt so angry with myself at having let you go and not treated you the way you deserved.” Sebastian stopped himself as he broke his gaze from you to look down at his hands. “And God, he just couldn’t even keep his hands off you...fuck, it was like you were a piece of meat to him and you just let him touch you like that.” His blue eyes were wide, mouth slightly ajar while he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had no right to be telling you off like this, especially not when you were witness to his many escapades with other women after you called it quits with him. No matter how hard you tried to avoid any news on him, it always came up somehow. It had been a nightmare.

“Who do you think you are, Sebastian?” You retorted, loud enough to alert him but not loud enough for your neighbors to hear. You didn’t let him answer as you continued spewing your rage. “So what’s it to you now? It seems like you suddenly want me again only because you saw me with another man. Was it because it wasn’t you?” You spat, doe eyes furious. Even with the gushing hot anger pulsing through you, this whole scenario was somewhat satisfying to you. After so long, he was the one in a jealous fit.

“Because that should be me. I feel like it’ll always be me.” His face had perked up at your questions, face still red with anger but slightly softening his hardened expression. He’d gotten to his feet, rounded the coffee table and started walking to you in a slow manner, careful not to push you away. You were on your feet then too, watching his movements and not at all knowing what to expect next from him.

“I don’t belong to you, Sebastian.” He hated the way his name seethed out of your mouth because you used to call him adoring names or whenever his name flew past your lips it wasn’t out of anger.

“Did you think I was going to sit around and wait for you? You refused to commit to me. I mean we weren’t even in a relationship according to you. You didn’t have time for one, didn’t have the type of commitment it took to be in one. Even the thought of being in that type of situation again makes me sick now.” Your voice was wavering, but your newfound confidence had not. He was going to hear what you had to say and he was going to hear it loud and clear. “You never did much for me. We were always holed up in my apartment because it seemed as if you didn’t want to be seen with me.”

“No, that was not it at all. Don’t think I was ashamed of you because that’s not it.” Sebastian was grabbing at his hair again, and this time he was pacing your living room back and forth. He couldn’t believe you thought he’d been ashamed of you.

“I was stupid. I was a fucking idiot who didn’t appreciate you and had commitment issues. That’s it, but I was never ashamed of you. I don’t want you to think that.” He exclaimed, eyes meeting your teary ones. He didn’t want to make you cry, and the sight of your pretty face with fresh tears falling down your cheeks was eating him alive.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” You cried out, hands wailing in the air in exasperation.

“To be with you.” Sebastian choked out. He was coming to terms with his feelings again, he’d pushed them aside for too long.

“Fuck, that’s all I want baby. To be with you. A chance to make it right by you and treat you the way I should have done before. I’m sorry for not appreciating you before and for taking you for granted. I’m sorry for being a blind asshole. I’m sorry for everything. You deserve the whole world and I’m willing to do anything to give you just that.” He was walking closer to you, hands stretched in front of him to grab hold of your arms. Your heart was beating erratically and eyes searched your living room, looking everywhere but him.

“Look me at me, doll.” He whispered as he stood in front of you now. He was so close. Too close that you could feel his breath fanning down at your face. He was taller than you and your eyes peered up at him through long dark lashes .

“I can’t, Seb…” Your voice was wavering, the confidence it oozed earlier was diminishing. You were internally screaming at the fact that he still had an effect on you. A heavy deep seated effect that pulled waves of electricity through you as his hand traveled up to caress your tense jaw.

“Fuck, yes you can. We can. Don’t you feel this?” He was inching ever closer if it was possible. His body plush against yours.

“No. ” You said, eyes breaking contact with his and hands pushing at his chest to move him away. He slightly stumbled backwards, not expecting the harsh refusal from your part.

“And you need to leave right now.” You pointed at the door. His shoulders had dropped at the sound of your words and he felt so dejected at your refusal to be with him now. He knew exactly how he had made you feel now because he felt devastated. Chest tight and his breathing uneven. You were tearing him apart.

“Is that really what you want?” His voice was low, eyes downcast as his hand slipped from your arm.

“Yes.” You whispered, your eyes looking forward trying so hard to focus on the tan lamp at the far end of the room. Even though it tore him apart, he walked his way back to the front door. He turned again just to take a quick glance at you as if expecting you to change your mind. When you didn’t even budge, didn’t even offer a single look at him, his demeanor faltered and he sauntered past the door managing to shut it behind him.

A sudden pang of excessive emotion allocated itself in your chest. So heavy it almost had you gasping. Cheeks wet with fresh tears and lips quivering, you were in such disarray not even a minute after he’d walked out the door. Even after so long, this is what you’d wanted. Him finally confessing how he felt about you, showing you the very emotions you so deeply felt for him.

You were unable to move as if glued to the spot near the sofa staring into space as cries wracked through your body. The man you thought you had stopped loving and had seemingly forgotten had just left and instead of feeling relief or a gust of calmness, you felt desolate. You were being forced to face the very reality that you didn’t just desire Sebastian, you were undoubtedly still in love with him. It didn’t matter that you’d been apart for so long, none of that mattered because what you felt for him was otherworldly.

And maybe you were the most ludicrous person in the world and maybe you deserved to get your heart broken many times again, but your feet dashed to the front door. You swiftly pulled it open, expecting to find the hallway empty. But Sebastian was still cemented there, back against the wall of the narrow hallway, with teary eyes. He pushed himself off the wall as your figure planted itself in front of him.

“Y/N.” He gently whispered your name. Frantic eyes meeting, both swollen and red, and his hands had moved to touch you in a desperate manner but they moved back as if scared you’d stalk back inside your apartment and leave him.

“When you walked out, I felt—I felt everything was closing in on me and this sudden rush of sadness washed over me. I don’t know why I feel this way about you, Sebastian. You know, maybe I’ll never be able to understand why after everything that’s happened between us we still have this strong connection. And I’m probably stupid for even contemplating this…”

Sebastian was holding onto every word you were uttering. Waiting for you to say the words he wanted to hear the most. He watched you pause, trying to gather your thoughts with your lip between your teeth.

“You get one chance, Sebastian. One chance and you better not fuck it up.”  You finally finished. Sebastian’s mouth had fallen agape first before a large smile began to form on his handsome face. He immediately moved his body to reach out to yours, but you backed away.

“Not so fast. We’re going to do things differently this time.” You pursed your lips. He was still beaming at you and you tried so hard to fight off the same expression from your face.

“I’m going to take you on a date. That’s the first thing I’m going to do.”

“What?”

“I’m going to do things differently this time, Y/N.” Sebastian was looking at you with gleaming eyes as if they were reserved just for you. His smile hadn’t faded away. 

“Tomorrow we’re going on our first date.”

----------

Good god this took me so long to write lol I feel like this is a horrible chapter! Next chapter will be the final one. Lee Bodecker is next on my list🥴

Thanks for reading y’all ♥️ 

@jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

[higans]

hi i want to write about korin and vil’s relationship because it’s a lot and even though this verse is literally a meme to me at this point, i’ve accidentally gone and got attached to some of korin’s dynamics with characters.

i want to preface this by saying i’m clearly not a vil roleplayer and i’m not someone that knows like ... a lot lore nor character wise. all of this is based off of my personal interpretations and what canon (the wiki KHGLDF) has provided me. so with all that in mind i’m sorry if something in particular might not fit in your mind. 

to begin it should be noted that despite maybe not appearing so right off the bat, korin absolutely fits within pomefiore’s dorm. the seeming obsession and pursuit of perfection and beauty that both vil and the dorm as a general vibe exhibit are qualities that she has, just in a uniquely subtle way. so in a way korin and vil are extremely similar. it’s their methodology, however, that’s at complete odds and thus where their strife starts.

korin’s fixation of beauty and being perceived as pretty is undoubtly connected to her childhood. she’s always struggled with her appearance and as she grew older made it a point to always present herself in a certain manner.

i think before epel’s inclusion within the dorm, vil’s “project” was korin. which led to a lot of the scrutiny that we see epel under in ep 5 being focused on her instead. at first it was actually very pleasent for her. she wanted to change and vil was just the catalyst she needed in order to start that. plus, it was ... almost kind of like bonding? in korin’s mind it felt like a friendship that she had never had before — i.e like ones you see in teen movies. 

vil for their part has never been cruel or melicious with their comments and nitpicks, however. from what we see it comes from a genuine place and a wish to help. but korin, on the other hand, is highly sensitive and predispositioned to an extremely negative self-image. something not exactly known to anyone, let alone vil. so those critiques, instead of being seen as a way to improve, began to quickly worsen her already low self-esteem. they felt more like attacks on her being and as korin isn’t someone really capable of verbalizing her problems it goes on until she does finally snap.

basically they live in a sick cycle of vil not knowing what they’re saying hurts more than helps and korin, instead of explaining that, gets defensive and incites an argument instead. obviously this would wear down literally anyone pretty quickly so after a certain point all their interactions just become ... extremely passive agressive.

there’s, of course, other problems too. korin’s lack of care towards school and her grades in general is also a pretty big sticking point because by all accounts she’s a representative of pomefiore as a fellow third year. it’s a bad look to have an upperclassman be so indifferent and downright disrespectful at times. especially when said third year does often get in trouble and the responsibilty falls to vil to clean up her messes.

ALSO! a big inspiration for these two actually comes from howl and sophie from howl’s moving castle. more specifically, from the scene where howl starts to break down over his hair and sophie’s reaction to it. i think it’s extremely fitting in that korin sees vil’s struggles as ... almost trivial compared to her’s even though they’re the exact same.

howl: i give up. i see no point in living if i can’t be beautiful. sophie: fine! so, you think you’ve got it bad? sophie: i’ve never once been beautiful my entire life!

at the end of the day though i believe they both deeply care for each other but just aren’t really meant to be friends until they both work out their personal issues which may have started after episode 5 but i can guarantee it hasn’t fixed everything.

[bookcoversalt]

Have you noticed the latest edition of Charlie Bowater can only draw one (1) face? She did The Princess Will Save You and Cast In Firelight both YA Fantasy set to be released this year. And they are how you say... the same fucking cover

Ah yes so you saw the same tweet I did

I know I literally just posted that we cannot outlaw book covers from looking like each other, but ! Oof!

The only thing that softens the blow here is that Charlie has improved at representing nonwhite features such that characters look like POC rather than tan white people, although,, that bar was low. Anybody remember the ACOTAR coloring book.

(Would you have guessed that 2/3 of these people are nonwhite? Or even that they’re supposed to be three different men? I guess all the men in Prythian have the same haircut?)

But that minor victory is mostly lost in the quagmires of the fact that Charlie’s style is to give everyone instagram face:

I wouldn’t even call this “Sameface” necessarily: that implies limitation, that an artist is only capable of drawing a single facial structure competently. Bowater is incredibly technically talented, she just chooses to give everyone catlike fae eyes and the cheekbones of a starving nymph. (My previous post on this here.)

But I don’t really blame her for that, or for these hilariously identical, nearly devoid of personality covers. Artists are allowed to do whatever they want. Artists who make art for covers are being art directed by designers and marketing teams who bear responsibility for how the finished pieces turn out.

No, this is our fault, as a community and an industry and..... society, kind of, for valuing character portraits that are “pretty” (“pretty” being an extremely loaded, culturally subjective concept) over art that actually Says Something About The Story. Bowater’s style happens to dovetail perfectly with what we currently collectively find pretty, and so we’ve put her art on a pedestal at the cost of everything else art can or should do for our stories.

And this is understandable: in contemporary western culture, pretty is a value unto itself. Seeing our characters portrayed as pretty denotes them as special, as smart, as powerful. It’s almost impossible to de-program ourselves from that reaction. There are approximately five kajillion studies on how beautiful people are at personal and professional advantages; how they’re perceived to be happier, healthier, more successful, and how those perceptions can translate into realities. (Nevermind how thinness and whiteness enter that equation, see above note about “pretty”.) I would love to see more “average” or weird- looking characters abound (and be accurately visually represented) in the YA/ Genre lit sphere, but for now... everyone is pretty.

Which sometimes means everyone is pretty boring.

But that’s just the specific, "What’s the deal with Bowater’s success in book circles and her style and all the sameiness” part of this equation. What if we backed up and asked: why character art at all? Beyond a question of “pretty”-ness (and general obvious Artistic Quality), why do we gravitate towards it, what's the purpose of it, how does it fall flat in a general sense, and how can it be utilized more effectively?

This is something I think about all the time. I follow writers on social media (because..... I am a writer on social media, regrettably), and we have an enormous collective boner for character art. “Getting fanart [of the characters]” is one of the achievement pinnacles constantly cited when people get or want to get published. Commissioning character art is something we reward ourselves with, or save up for (WHICH IS GOOD AND CORRECT. FREE ART IS GREAT BUT DO NOT SOLICIT IT. PAY YOUR ARTISTS). And like???? Same????? We love our stories because we’re invested in our characters. Most humans, even prose writers, are visual creatures to some extent, and no matter how happy we are with our text-based art, it’s exciting to see our creations exist in that form. So we turn that art into promo material and we advocate for it on our covers-- because it’s so meaningful to us! It goes with the story perfectly!! Look at my dumb beautiful children!!!!!

But on an emotional level, it’s hard to grasp that it only means something to us. Particularly when you take into account the aforementioned vast landscape of beautiful visual blandness of many characters (in the YA/ genre lit sphere, that’s pretty much all I’m ever talking about), character art can be like baby photos. If you know the baby, if that baby is your new niece or your friend’s kid, if you’ve held them and their parent texts you updates when they do cute shit, you’re probably excited to see that baby photo. But unless it’s exceptionally cute, a random stranger’s baby photo isn’t likely to invoke an emotional reaction other than “this is why I don’t get on facebook.”

Seeing art of characters they don’t know might intrigue a reader, but especially if the characters or art are unremarkable-looking, it’s doing a hell of a lot more for the people who already have an emotional attachment to that character than anybody else. And that’s fine. Art for a small, invested audience is incredibly rewarding. But like the parent who cannot see why you don’t think their baby is THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BABY IN THE WORLD???? I think we have trouble divesting our emotional reaction to character art from its actual marketing value, which.... is often pretty minimal. This is my hill to die on #143:

Character portraits, even beautiful ones, are meaningless as a marketing tool without additional context or imagery. 

I love character art! I’m not saying it should not exist or that it’s worthless! Even art that appeals to only the one single person who made it has value and the right to exist. And part of this conversation is how important for POC to see themselves on covers, whether illustrations or stock imagery, particularly in YA/kidlit. I’m not saying character portrait covers are “bad”. 

I am saying that I have seen dozens and dozens of sets of character art for characters who look interchangeable, and it has never driven me to preorder a book. (Also one character portrait for a high-profile 2019 debut that was clearly just a painting of Amanda Seyfriend. You know the one. There’s nothing wrong with faceclaims but lmfao, girl,,,,)

I’m sure that’s not true for everyone! I am incredibly picky about art. It’s my job. There’s nothing wrong with your card deck of cell-shaded boys of ambiguous age and ethnicity who all have the same button nose and smirk if it Sparks Joy for you.

But if your goal is not only to delight yourself, but to sell books, it’s in your best interest to remember that art, like writing, is a form of communication. The publishing industry runs on pitches: querys, blurbs, proposals, self-promo tweets. What if we applied that logic to our visuals? How can we utilize our character design and art to communicate as much about our stories as possible, in the most enticing way?

Social media has already driven the embrace of this concept in a very general sense. Authors are now supposed to have ~ aesthetics. “Picspams” or graphics, modular collages that function as mini moodboards, are commonplace. But the labor intensity and relative scarcity of character art visible in bookish circles, even on covers, means that application of marketing sensibility to it is less intuitive than throwing together a pinterest board.

Since we were talking about it earlier, WICKED SAINTS, as a case study of a recent “successful” fantasy YA debut, arguably owed a lot of its early social media momentum to fanart.

(Early fanart by @warickaart)

The most frequently drawn character, Malachiasz, has long hair, claws, and distinctive face tattoos. WS has a strong aesthetic in general, but those features clearly marked his fanart as him in a way even someone unfamiliar with the book could clearly track across different styles. Different interpretations of his tattoos from different artists even became a point of interest.

(Art by Jaria Rambaran, also super early days of WS Being A Thing)

Aside from distinctiveness, it's a clear visual representation of his history as a cult member, his monstrous powers, and the story’s dark, medieval tone. The above image is also a great example of character interaction, something missing from straightforward portraits, that communicates a dynamic. Character dynamics draw people into stories: enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, childhood rivals, platonic life partners, love triangles, devoted siblings, exes who still carry the flame-- there’s a reason we codify these into tropes, and integrate that language and shared knowledge into our marketing. For another example in that vein, I really love this art by @MabyMin, commissioned by Gina Chen:

The wrist grip! The fancy outfits! These are two nobles who hate each other and want to bone and I am sold. 

In terms of true portraits, the best recent example I can think of is the set @NicoleDeal did for Roshani Chokshi’s GILDED WOLVES (I believe as a preorder incentive of some kind?): 

They showcase settings, props, and poses that all communicate the characters’ interests, skills, and personality, as well as the glamorous, elaborate aesthetic of the overall story. Even elements in the gold borders change, alluding to other plot points and symbology.

For painterly accuracy in character portraits on covers, I love SPIN THE DAWN. The heroine looks like a beautiful badass, yes, but the thoughtful, detailed rendering of every element, soft textures, and dynamic, fluid composition form a really cohesive, stunning illustration that presents an intriguing collection of story elements.

The devil isn’t always in the details, though: stark, moody, highly stylized or graphic art with an emphasis on textural contrast and bold color and shape rather than representational accuracy can communicate a lot (emotionally and tonally) while pretty much foregoing realism.

The new Lunar Chronicles covers are actually the best examples I found of this (Trying to stay within the realm of existing bookish art rather than branch into All Art Of Human Figures Forever):

Taking cues from styles more typical of the comics and video game industries.  (Games and comics, as visual mediums, are sources of incredible character art and I highly recommend following artists in those industries if you want to See More Cool Art On Your Timeline.)

TL;DR: Character art and design, as a marketing tool (even an incidental one) should be as unique to your story and your characters as possible, and tell us about the story in ways that make us want to read it. I tried to give examples because there are so many ways to do this, and so many different kinds of art, and I could give many more! But I’m bored now. So to circle all the way back:

These are not just bad because they look like each other, although that is embarrassing and illuminating. These are bad covers (although,,,,, PRINCESS is the far worse offender, at least FIRELIGHT suggests a thoughtful cultural analogue) because a desire for Pretty Character Art overrode the basic cover function to tell us about the story. We get no sense of who these people are, what their relationships are, what these books are about beyond the most general genre, or why we might care. The expressions are vague, the characters generic-looking, the compositions uninteresting and the colors failing to be indicative of anything in particular. 

They’re somebody else’s baby pictures.

(And yes, that’s the CRUEL PRINCE font on PRINCESS. I better not have to do a roundup post but it’s on thin fucking ice.)