#identity and belonging in film

[dgspeaks]

Finding Strength: A Review of "A Thousand and One"

Premiering at the Sundance Film Festival and winning the prestigious Grand Jury Prize, “A Thousand and One” is a captivating drama that explores the themes of family, resilience, and identity. Directed by A.V. Rockwell, this powerful film delves into the complexities of motherhood and the indomitable spirit of survival in the face of adversity. A Story of Unwavering Determination “A Thousand…

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

It's Goncharov to you. To me, it's simply Gonch.

[omgthatdress]

The Importance of Studying Queerness in Context.

When studying queer history, one always has to keep in mind two seemingly contradictory things: firstly, that queerness and queer people have always existed, but at the same time, that queerness and queer identities have not always existed the way they exist today.

Modern queer terms and identities did not exist to queer people in the past. They would not have thought of themselves as "gay" or "trans" or even "queer." While these modern terms may seem to fit certain historic individuals, these individuals would not have thought of themselves as such, and it would not be a part of their lived experience. To apply the modern identities of queerness to history is to erase the lives and experiences of queer people in history, and care must always be taken to understand queer history within the context of its time.

When looking at queer history online, there is a *lot* of misinformation and misidentification out there simply because people are eager to apply modern queerness to history, often in places where it doesn't belong.

A lot of old photos get misidentified as gay because they show two people of the same sex showing some level of physical affection towards each other. Okay, I'll admit that the open-mouth kissing photobooth pictures are probably actually gay, but an old picture of two men or two women holding hands or with their arms around each other, or even kissing on the cheek, were common shows of platonic affection.

I hate to break everyone's gay little hearts, but without explicit documentation saying so, assuming that these couples are all gay is putting modern queer identity in places where it simply didn't exist. The women in the final picture are sisters. The "not married" boys are bachelors interested in marrying women.

In the silent film Wings, the emotional climax of the film comes in the form of a kiss exchanged between the characters played by Jack Powell and David Armstrong. It often gets attributed as the first gay kiss in cinema history, even on the fucking YouTube clip I found:

Except it isn't gay. The two men spend the whole film fighting over who gets to be Clara Bow's boyfriend. When Richard Arlen's character is fatally wounded, his dear friend rushes to his side and kisses him goodbye, because in the 1920s, that was considered the ultimate show of friendship. The movie ends with Jack Powell falling in love with Clara Bow.

Similarly, a kiss shared between Lillian and Dorothy Gish in the 1921 movie Orphans of the Storm often gets attributed as being queer, but it wasn't.

They were sisters playing sisters. None of this was considered unusual.

Pooh-poohing on all of these images that so many people on the internet breathlessly and joyously laud as proud gay history isn't fun. It makes me feel like I'm fucking Ben Shapiro. But if misinformation is allowed to flourish, it allows people like Ben Shapiro to come in and make the argument that queerness is a modern invention and queer people didn't exist in the past.

Everyone loves to see queerness represented in history, but the fact is that none of the stuff in this post would have been seen as explicitly gay and thus shouldn't be called gay today. If we are to understand queer history in its fullness and richness, it is absolutely crucial that we get it right. We owe it to our queer ancestors to recognize, honor, and not embellish the actual lives they lived.

[shesnake]

The Handmaiden (2016) dir. Park Chan-wook // Interview with the Vampire episode 11 (2024) dir. Levan Akin

He lost his Hindu-originated name “Arun” when he was trafficked from Dehli as a child, was renamed “Amadeo” by his paedophile Maker the vampire Marius, then finally assigned “Armand” by the Roman coven before they sent him to France. He’s also lost his voice in a way, shown code-switching and adopting different accents in different settings. Throughout world history, colonised peoples have often been forced to adopt the languages and names of their oppressive colonisers as a way to erase their cultural identities.

Armand’s history was essentially colonised. His personal sexual trauma is an allegory for wider colonial trauma. This idea was explored similarly in Park Chan-wook’s 2016 film The Handmaiden, where the character Hideko’s forced exposure to pornographic Japanese literature as a child is meant to parallel the colonial oppression of the Japanese occupation of Korea.

The only evidence remaining of Armand’s experiences of sexual and colonial violence is this painting The Adoration of the Shephards With a Donor that hangs in the Louvre. Another cruel irony here is that ‘Adoration of the Shepherds’ is an episode of Jesus’s nativity. Arun as a (presumably) Hindu boy was used as a prop in a Christian narrative. The one historical document that exists of his mortal life is a depiction of his religious assimilation. Completely divorced from his roots, with no identity outside the roles his abusers assigned him, Armand, Amadeo, and Arun ��were cut loose and dead like children turned to stone.” Being immortalised, “donated”, and placed on display in a European museum, a space he’s not even really allowed to access, for the mostly-white gaze is a clear metaphor for colonisers’ persisting theft of cultural artefacts belonging to their victims.

The only consolation this journey has for Armand is creative inspiration. He took Amadeo, trapped in the horror of his youth for the entertainment of others, and transferred that idea into the play My Baby Loves Windows to torture Claudia.

Armand, colonialism, and the weaponisation of anti-Blackness by Deah

[51voices]

"We Met Online"

Kinkvember Day 1: Virtual Reality

LOONA/ARTMS Jeon Heejin x Male reader

(Happy Belated Halloween)

Heejin was exhausted after another grueling day packed with rehearsals, interviews, and photoshoots. The bright lights and relentless schedules of her life as an idol often overshadowed the excitement and passion she once felt for her craft. While the glitz and glamor brought rewards, they also came with the suffocating weight of expectation—the never-ending demand for perfection. After yet another long day navigating the pressures of fame, she craved an escape, something to take her mind off the incessant hustle for just a moment.

As she entered the shared apartment she called home with her fellow ARTMS members, she was greeted by the unexpected sight of Jinsoul lounging on the couch. A mischievous smile danced across her face, instantly piquing Heejin's interest.

“Hey, Heejin!” Jinsoul called out, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Got something for you.”

Heejin raised an inquisitive eyebrow, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. Jinsoul reached behind the couch and produced a sleek black box prominently displaying a logo that sent a thrill of recognition through Heejin—Infinity. This was the VR game that had taken the gaming world by storm, promising an immersive realm where players could interact and experience life in a way that felt startlingly real.

"Before you say anything, check this out!" Jinsoul exclaimed, as she effortlessly revealed a second item—a thin, skin-tight suit that looked like it belonged in a futuristic sci-fi film. The suit shimmered slightly under the apartment's fluorescent lights, its smooth, almost weightless fabric captivating Heejin's attention.

“What... is that?” Heejin asked, hesitantly taking the suit from Jinsoul’s hands. The fabric felt cool against her fingertips, almost alive with potential.

“This,” Jinsoul said, her smile widening, “is what makes the experience really immersive. It’s a haptic feedback suit. You wear this while playing, and it makes you feel everything from touches to sensations—like you’re actually there. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

Heejin eyed the suit with a mix of intrigue and apprehension. The thought of feeling things in a game was both thrilling and slightly unnerving. Yet, given the chaotic demands of her life, the idea of escaping reality, even for just a little while, was immensely tempting.

“Alright,” Heejin finally said, a small smile breaking through her exhaustion. “I’ll give it a try.”

After quickly changing into the snug suit—its fabric wrapping around her like a second skin—Heejin donned the Infinity VR headset. As she activated it, the familiar world of her daily routine melted away, replaced by a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors and enchanting scenery in the expansive landscape of the game.

Heejin found herself standing in the midst of a bustling virtual marketplace, where avatars of all shapes and sizes interacted with one another amid floating islands, glowing rivers, and a mesmerizing starry sky. The air felt cool and invigorating, a crispness that felt astoundingly real, and the sensation of her feet grounding her on the cobblestone path added to the illusion of reality.

As she moved about, Heejin looked down at her customized avatar: Noxelia. She had spent hours meticulously designing her digital persona, pouring all her aspirations and hidden desires into this character. Noxelia was tall and graceful, exuding an air of power with every gesture. Her long silver-black hair flowed behind her like silk, cascading elegantly down her back, while her armor shimmered with a radiant violet hue, reflecting the light of the ethereal marketplace. Noxelia embodied everything Heejin wanted to be—strong, confident, and untouchable.

With each step, Heejin felt a sense of liberation. In this virtual world, the constraints and expectations tied to her real-life identity faded away. No longer did she have to strive for perfection or balance the weight of public scrutiny; in this realm, she could be anyone she wished to be. Breathing in the imaginary scents of street food and experiencing the chatter of NPCs and other players brought her an unfamiliar sense of joy.

As Heejin wandered the vibrant marketplace, the colors and sounds pulsed with life, pulling her deeper into this virtual world. Stalls adorned with shimmering goods and bustling avatars created an electric atmosphere. But it wasn’t long before her keen eye was caught by the figure of another player standing nearby—a default knight clad in simple silver armor, with a basic sword slung at his side. What made him stand out were the tiny sparkles that glimmered across his chest plate, giving him an unexpectedly charming, magical quality amidst the melee of customizations.

Heejin felt a playful smile spread across her face as she looked at her meticulously designed avatar, Noxelia, which was a beacon of creativity and power. The contrast was amusing, and she felt a spark of mischief surge within her. With a lighthearted stride, she approached the knight.

“Nice knight outfit!” Heejin teases, her voice playful as she leans casually against a nearby stall. “Going for the ‘chivalry isn’t dead’ look?”

The default knight, turn with a grin. “What can I say? I’m a classic.” Your tone is lighthearted, your eyes dancing with humor.

“Classic, huh? While that’s admirable, wouldn’t it be more fun to have something original like mine?” She gestures to her intricately designed armor, the brilliant colors and detailed patterns shimmering in the marketplace light.

You chuckle, raising your hands in mock surrender. “You’re not wrong. I didn’t spend nearly as much time as some people on the customization screen.” There’s a hint of self-deprecation in your voice, your friendly expression encouraging her boldness.

With a flick of her hair, Heejin takes pride in her work. “I customized it all myself. Took hours, but every second was worth it. It feels so much more... me. But hey, at least you have those shiny sparkles.” She flashes you an encouraging smile, appreciating the effort you put in, however minimal it may seem.

You glance down at your armor, a hint of embarrassment creeping onto your face but quickly replaced with admiration for her dedication. “It’s impressive,” you admit. “But the sparkles? Blame my sister for those. She thought the default knight was too boring and convinced me to give it a touch of flair.”

Heejin’s grin widens at your candidness. “Your sister’s got good taste! At least someone in your family does.” She chuckles, the playful banter putting you both at ease.

And just like that, an easy connection forms between you two, filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing. Amidst the bustling marketplace, your camaraderie begins to bloom, reminding Heejin that sometimes, it’s not just the detailed armor or flashy weapons that make a game more enjoyable, but the spontaneous conversations with fellow players that create memories worth cherishing.

Over the next few weeks, you and Heejin forge a routine of playing together regularly. You become a familiar duo, exploring the vastness of Infinity, navigating through intricate puzzles, unveiling hidden treasures in new zones, and playfully competing in exhilarating mini-games. Amidst the thrill and occasional heated competition, Heejin finds herself drawn to your relaxed demeanor. Your ability to elicit laughter, even in the most intense gaming moments, creates a warmth that infuses your bond with joy and light-heartedness.

One serene evening, you and Heejin find yourselves perched on Cloud Summit—a breathtaking floating isle that seems to reach for the heavens. The ambiance is nothing short of magical; the sky is painted in soft pastels, with delicate hues merging into one another, while the clouds below shimmer as if kissed by a gentle light. For Heejin, Cloud Summit quickly becomes her retreat, a serene hideaway to escape the weight of reality pressing down.

“You’re really good at this,” you say, joining her on a pixelated bench overlooking the horizon. Your avatar exudes a relaxed charm as you rest beside her, your gaze sweeping over the breathtaking scenery. “You always seem… focused.”

A gentle smile graces Heejin’s face as she takes in the view, the colors swirling like cotton candy in the vast canvas above. “That’s why I like it here,” she replies thoughtfully, her voice barely a whisper against the tranquility of the surroundings. “It’s the only place I can relax, you know?”

Curiosity flickers in your eyes as you turn to face her. “What do you mean?” you ask, genuinely interested.

Heejin takes a deep breath, letting the virtual winds carry away some of the weight she feels. “In real life,” she starts, her voice softening amidst the cloud-dappled sky, “I have this job. People expect a lot from me, and it’s exhausting. But here, in this world, I can just… be.”

Your expression shifts as the gravity of her words sinks in. You stay quiet, contemplating her vulnerability. “I get that,” you finally say. “I have my own responsibilities too. My sister... she looks up to me like I’m her knight in shining armor, but some days, it’s hard to live up to that. I feel like I’m letting her down”

It’s in that shared silence that something profound transpires. Heejin feels a deep, abiding sense of understanding passing between you, a connection that feels both immediate and enduring. Despite having never met in the physical realm, there’s an unspoken acknowledgment that pierces through the boundaries of your virtual existence.

As you linger in your conversation, Heejin finds comfort in the proximity of your avatar. Without even realizing it, you subtly shift closer, your digital shoulders brushing against each other. The feedback from her suit sends a gentle pulse through her body, etching your presence into her consciousness. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels like the quiet embrace of understanding she has longed for.

She hesitates, then feels a pull to lean into you, the act an instinctual response to the warmth radiating from your connection. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice barely rising above the gentle breeze. "For being here."

“For what?” you ask, your tone infused with warmth and sincerity.

“For just being here, talking to me,” she repeats, her heart swelling with gratitude.

Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, your avatars move closer together. In a spontaneous moment of bravery, you share your first virtual hug. At first, it feels a little awkward—two armored figures caught in a pixelated embrace—but through your haptic suits, warmth envelops you both, it’s a soft pressure that feels surprisingly intimate. Heejin could almost forget you could be separated by miles of reality.

Time seems to suspend as you hold onto each other. The virtual hug is simple, yet it’s charged with an energy that resonates in both your avatars and hearts. It transcends the playful banter of your previous interactions, hinting at a deeper connection emerging from the pixels.

-----

Though you never shared your real names, you and Heejin delved deeper into the recesses of each other’s lives, sharing small anecdotes and secrets that painted a vivid picture of the individuals behind your avatars. For Heejin, this was a sanctuary—a realm where she could shed the polished facade of stardom and embrace her authentic self, even under the veil of anonymity.

Your connection strengthened, and the game that once served as a mere pastime began to morph into something more profound. The boundaries of your virtual world started to blur, leading you both to a secluded enclave known as the Starlight Grove. Here, the luminescent trees and the soothing whispers of the river created an ambiance of tranquility and intimacy.

It was in this digital haven that you and Heejin experienced a shift in your relationship. As you stood beside the virtual waters, your avatars close enough to touch, a palpable tension filled the air. The haptic feedback suits you wore, designed to enhance the gaming experience, became conduits for a new kind of interaction—one that felt undeniably more real.

When you reached out and touched Heejin’s avatar, the suit sprang to life, simulating the warmth and pressure of a real human touch. The sensation was so convincing that it took her breath away. “I'll never get use to how real it feels.” she murmured, her voice tinged with surprise and delight.

Your touch was exploratory, your hand gliding down Heejin’s arm as if mapping out uncharted territory. Each pulse of sensation resonated like a soft echo, sending shivers through her body, igniting her senses. The technology bridging your virtual and physical realities had transcended mere gadgetry; it had become an extension of your very beings, allowing you to experience each other in ways you had never imagined possible within a game. Every pulse was a whisper, every sensation a promise, as you navigated this new realm of connection.

As your hand ventured lower, tracing the curve of her waist, the feedback became more intense. Heejin found herself succumbing to the illusion, her body arching toward your avatar, seeking more of the electric sensation that coursed through her with each simulated caress.

The intimacy of the moment escalated as your fingers moved with deliberate gentleness, crossing into more private territories. Heejin’s gasp echoed through the serene grove as her body responded to the suit’s accurate mapping of your touch. “Keep going, I can feel you... everywhere,” she confessed, her voice quivering with the weight of her vulnerability.

Your response was silent but spoke volumes through your actions. Your other hand found its way to her side, resting just beneath her chest. The new technology made the warmth of your touch tangible, each slow, intimate movement leaving Heejin breathless and yearning for more.

As the intensity of your virtual encounter grew, Heejin’s breaths became short and ragged. The sensors were so precise that every touch from you felt like a real caress, igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume her completely. Her body trembled, succumbing to the waves of pleasure that radiated from your every touch.

“Noxelia…” you murmured, your voice a low whisper that wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

“More... I want more.” she whimpered, her voice a mere whisper carried away by the digital wind.

Your fingers pressed into her with more insistence, the suit amplifying each sensation until Heejin felt as though she were floating, her body alight with an intensity that was almost too much to bear. The suit, once just a piece of gaming equipment, had become an instrument of unparalleled pleasure, each pulse and vibration resonating with her escalating desire.

Her breath caught as your virtual hands discovered a particularly sensitive spot between her legs. She hadn’t even realized that there were sensors in every nook of her pants, but the discovery heightened her awareness, causing her to arch against the unseen touch. Whimpers escaped her lips, growing more insistent, each sound a vibrato of desire.

Heejin’s cries began as a soft whimper, a prelude to the crescendo building within her. As the sensations intensified, her voice rose in pitch, becoming a series of breathy gasps punctuating the air. Each exhale carried a piece of her surrender, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through her veins.

“Please…” she breathed, the words becoming a mantra on her lips, a central thread amidst the chaos of her swirling thoughts.

As the tension built to its peak, Heejin’s cries intensified, creating a symphony of raw ecstasy. Each sound she made was a testament to the unbridled passion that enveloped her, growing louder and more urgent as the waves of pleasure coursed through her body. The air between them was charged, vibrating with the intensity of shared desire.

Her voice broke into a series of staccato moans, each one echoing the rhythm of her escalating heartbeat. Each sound was a note, weaving a melody that seemed to pulse in harmony with the flickering light of the Starlight Grove.

“Yes! Right there, don’t stop…” she panted, each syllable a fervent plea that resonated deep within the heart of their shared moment. Her body trembled, taut as a bowstring, as she teetered on the edge of rapture.

“I wouldn’t dream of it…” you replied, your tone carrying a seductive promise that pushed her further. The tension built, a fusion of will and sensation, until it snapped with breathtaking force.

The climax surged through her, a tidal wave that left her breathless and shattered, yet whole in a way only this moment could achieve. The cries that burst from her were pure and unrestrained, blending seamlessly with the ambient hum of the grove around them. Every muscle in her body seemed to pulse with the rhythm of her release, and for a moment, the world contracted to just the two of them and the echo of her bliss.

As the aftershocks rippled through her, her cries softened, subsiding into a contented hum that mirrored the tranquil ambiance of the Starlight Grove. Her breath evened out, and the only sounds left were the gentle rustle of the virtual foliage and the soft, satisfied sighs that escaped her swollen lips.

In the aftermath, as your avatars stood together in the soft glow of the luminescent garden, your heart raced, and a lingering warmth hummed through your body, a reminder of the intimacy you’d just shared. The suit, now a silent witness to the moment, lay against your skin—a gentle yet tangible link between your digital and physical worlds.

Slowly, Heejin’s body retreated, though the ghost of her touch lingered, a phantom presence you could still feel. As you looked around, the reality of what had just transpired settled in. Together, you had crossed a threshold, exploring depths of human connection in a place where the physical and the virtual felt inseparable.

The Starlight Grove, once just a scenic spot in the game, had transformed into a testament to your bond—a place where you and Heejin discovered that the heart’s capacity for connection knows no bounds, and that even within the confines of a digital world, human experiences can reach new heights of emotion and sensation.

"That was..." your voice broke the silence, filled with wonder and uncertainty. "More than I expected." The virtual space, typically a playground for fantasy and escapism, had transformed into a stage for a deeply human connection.

Heejin nodded, her breath still shaky. "Yeah... me too." The weight of what had just happened lingered, a tangible presence heavy with the knowledge that you had crossed a line neither of you anticipated.

The sensations, the connection—it had felt more real than either of you imagined possible. A game designed to simulate the thrill of adventure and camaraderie had instead become a conduit for an emotional exchange that left you both reeling. The digital environment, with its vivid landscapes and immersive experiences, had facilitated a bond that transcended pixels and code.

You laughed awkwardly, feeling uncertain of what to say next. "Uh, Noxelia, maybe I should... log off… I have a few things to take care of." The conversation, though taking place in a space where avatars are meant to be invincible, had touched something raw and vulnerable. Heejin gave a small, nervous smile, acknowledging the unspoken agreement. "Yeah... I think that’s a good idea. Same here."

With one final look, a gaze that felt as though it could pierce through the screen, you both logged off, letting the virtual world fade away. But as your screen went dark, the sound of Heejin's cries and pleas lingered, hanging in the silence long after the game had ended. The digital echo of your interaction replayed in your mind, a reminder of the depth and intensity that even online worlds could harbor.

You sat in your own apartment, the VR headset resting heavily on your lap. Like a film on replay, each moment shared between you two replayed in your mind. It felt all too tangible—too vivid. You could still feel the nuances of your presence, the harmony of your connection. This wasn’t just a game anymore; it was an experience, intimate and unforgettable. The events of the night lingered, leaving you to question what might come next.

Meanwhile, across the city, Heejin sat in the quiet of her room, yanking the VR headset off and sinking into silence as she stared blankly at the dormant screen. A light layer of sweat covered her body, her heart still pounding in her chest, the residual sensations from the immersive experience holding on like a delicate trace. Tentatively, she placed a hand between her legs, feeling the warmth and dampness that confirmed the intensity of her climax. The touch grounded her, pulling her back from the edge of the surreal and into the present.

The suit, now just fabric against her skin, had moments before been a bridge merging the virtual with the visceral. It had allowed her to feel emotions and sensations she hadn’t anticipated, leaving her both disoriented and exhilarated.

Running a hand through her hair, she struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. Heejin, once just another player in the game, was now someone who had reached beyond the pixels, tethered by a connection that had transcended the screen.

Yet, as you sat in the stillness, you grappled with the implications of what had unfolded. Together, you’d crossed a boundary separating virtual interaction from emotional reality. What did this mean for your relationship? The urge to reach out lingered, but so did uncertainty. How could you transition from screen to reality, from alias to name, from a fantasy world to a genuine connection?

In the quiet contemplation, both you and Heejin found yourselves at a crossroads, reflecting on the connection fostered in a realm where sensations collided with emotions. The lines between the virtual and the real had blurred, leaving you both wondering if this bond could grow beyond the confines of the digital universe.

-----

For the past two weeks, the digital landscape of Infinity remained devoid of activity from its two most notable players: you and Heejin. The electric encounter had left an indelible mark on both of you, each hesitant to return to the game. Every time Heejin considered logging back in, memories flooded her mind—the warmth of your touch, the realism of your interactions, enhanced by the haptic suits. It was an experience both exhilarating and unsettling, one that made her heart race and left her feeling unsure.

You, too, were haunted by that night. The human mind intermingles confusion with excitement, embarrassment with desire. Each attempt to push the memory aside only amplified the awkwardness you felt at the thought of seeing her avatar again. What could you say? How could you interact as you had before?

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm hues across your apartment, you sat at the kitchen table, exhaustion settling after a long day at work. During this quiet moment, your younger sister, Nari, burst into the room like a whirlwind, her princess costume twirling around her as she moved. You couldn’t help but smile; she’d been preparing her Halloween outfit for weeks.

“Oppa, did you get the tickets?” she asked eagerly, bouncing into the chair beside you.

Your heart sank. “Nari… I don’t know if I can get the tickets. They’re really expensive,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair as the familiar weight of financial stress settled over you.

Nari’s bright expression faltered, confusion replacing her excitement. “But you promised we’d go to the ARTMS Halloween Event! I want to see all the girls—they’re so cool! I’ve been practicing their dances for months!” Her wide eyes sparkled with innocent hope, and the ache in your heart grew.

“I know, Nari,” you said softly, trying to ease the blow. “But things are a little tough right now. We might not be able to go.”

Her face fell, and the corners of her mouth drooped in disappointment. She didn’t understand why her oppa couldn’t make this happen—he always made things happen. “Please, oppa?” she pleaded, her eyes glistening. “I really want to go! It’s going to be the best thing ever! Please? I’ll be so good, and I won’t ask for anything else! Just this, I promise!”

You looked into her hopeful eyes, feeling a tight knot form in your chest. Nari didn’t know the sacrifices you made daily to ensure she had what she needed, and those little joys that brightened her world. The thought of disappointing her was unbearable. In that moment, she was your entire world, her happiness was everything.

You felt the crushing weight of financial strain as it collided with your overwhelming love for your sister. “Alright,” you whispered, relenting, though you weren’t sure how you’d make it work. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Nari’s face lit up instantly. She leapt forward, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. “Thank you, oppa! You’re the best! I can’t wait! We can match our costumes, and it’ll be perfect!”

Despite the worry gnawing at you, her joy was infectious, a reminder that despite life’s hardships, moments like these made everything worthwhile. “Yeah,” you murmured, softening under her embrace. “I’ll make sure we go.”

As you held Nari close, a spark of determination ignited. No matter the obstacles ahead, you would find a way to make this happen. Her happiness was worth everything, and you’d do whatever it took to make her dreams a reality.

-----

On a balmy evening, you and your sister, Nari, stepped into the buzz of excitement that enveloped the venue. The air was thick with anticipation as fans clad in vibrant costumes filled the space, their laughter and chatter mingling with the distant sound of music. You took a deep breath, adjusting the metallic sheen of your knight costume that you had donned to match Nari's enchanting princess outfit. However, beneath the gleaming armor, a sense of unease stirred within you. Your thoughts spiraled back to Noxelia, the girl who had ignited your heart during your late-night gaming sessions. Did she think of you the way you thought of her?

The crowd erupted into cheers as ARTMS finally took the stage, the deafening roar sweeping through the venue like a wave. Your heart nearly stopped, your breath catching in your throat the moment your eyes locked onto one of the performers. It was her—dressed in a costume that was an exact replica of Noxelia, the avatar that your companion had meticulously created. She stood front and center, illuminated by the spotlight, her presence magnetic, drawing every gaze toward her. The vibrant colors of her outfit were vivid, each intricate detail expertly crafted, a perfect mirror of everything you adored about the design and the mysterious girl who played it.

A knot formed in your chest as a startling realization hit you like a tidal wave: the girl who had been your cherished companion in the virtual world, your confidante and battle partner, was standing before you, not just as Noxelia, but as a famous idol beloved by thousands. The revelation sent your thoughts spiraling. How could the two worlds—your quiet, private connection with Noxelia and the glitzy, public persona of this star—exist in harmony? What could you, an ordinary guy, possibly offer her when she was surrounded by adoration, fame, and people who hung on her every word? The divide between you felt impossibly vast.

Moments after the electrifying performance, Nari grabbed your hand, her excitement contagious as you hurried toward the fan meet. Her eyes sparkled, her face glowing with joy as she practically bounced with each step, brimming with anticipation to meet her idols. But your mind was a storm of anxious thoughts, the weight of the revelation sinking in. You could hardly hear Nari’s enthusiastic chatter over the sound of your racing heartbeat. Each step toward the meet-and-greet felt heavier, the distance between you shrinking yet your internal turmoil growing. You were walking toward the girl who had been the source of so much of your happiness, but also the cause of your most nagging insecurities. What would she think of you when you finally stood face-to-face? Would she even piece the puzzle together? The reality of your encounter loomed, and your thoughts buzzed in a relentless loop as you approached her, the line shortening with every breath.

“Heejin-unnie! Don’t tell the others, but you’re my favorite!” Nari exclaimed as you reached the front of the line, her eyes sparkling with pure admiration. “I’ve been practicing your dances!”

Heejin’s smile widened, warmth radiating from her as she leaned forward to respond. “Thank you so much for coming! I’m honored to be in the presence of royalty, my princess.” The moment felt surreal, watching your sister bask in the glow of her idol’s attention.

With excitement bubbling over, Nari gestured to herself and then pointed proudly at you. “I’m Nari, and this is Y/N oppa! He’s my favorite person in the whole world.” She leaned in closer to Heejin, whispering conspiratorially but loud enough for you to hear. “You take that spot when he ignores me to play that game with the goggles and tights.”

Your stomach twisted, a knot forming as heat flushed your cheeks. You glanced nervously at Heejin, silently praying she wouldn’t pick up on the meaning behind Nari’s innocent words. For a brief moment, Heejin’s smile faltered, and her brows knitted as she exchanged glances between you and your sister, a hint of confusion in her expressive eyes.

“Goggles and tights?” Heejin echoed, her voice playful yet laced with curiosity.

Nari nodded enthusiastically, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you. “Yeah! He plays it all the time. I even helped him make his character. Sometimes I sneak into his room because he looks so funny wearing all the gear.” She giggled, eyes bright with mischief.

Your face turned beet red; the spotlight of embarrassment was nearly unbearable. Heejin's expression shifted slightly, her skepticism apparent, but she quickly masked it with her trademark smile. Just as you thought you might escape unscathed, Nari tugged on your arm, her excitement palpable.

“Oppa! Show Heejin-unnie the thing!” Nari insisted, her words bubbling over with excitement.

You hesitated for a moment, knowing that revealing this secret could invite scrutiny you weren’t prepared to face. Still, your sister’s eager eyes left you little choice. With a reluctant sigh, you parted the front of your cape, revealing the array of sparkles that Nari had enthusiastically added to your knight costume. The shimmering details mirrored the intricate designs of your avatar’s armor in the game that had brought you and Heejin together.

Heejin’s eyes widened, flickering down to the sparkles as surprise shifted to realization. Her expression changed subtly—her lips parted slightly, and her brow arched as though a light had just switched on. The puzzle pieces clicked into place, and you felt the weight of her understanding settle over you.

No words were exchanged in that charged moment, yet the unspoken acknowledgment hung between you like a fragile thread. Heejin kept her composure, a soft smile curving her lips as Nari continued to chatter happily about her favorite dances. But the atmosphere had changed, carrying a subtle current that both excited and unsettled you.

As Nari giddily thanked Heejin, you felt a shift in your dynamic with the idol. You caught Heejin’s gaze lingering as she finished signing a poster for your sister, a silent echo of the connection you had shared in the game. That bond was now tangled with the reality of her stardom and your ordinary life. Would you remain just another player in her world, or had you crossed into something more significant? With a quiet sigh of relief and uncertainty, you stepped aside, wondering how this new chapter would unfold.

Unbeknownst to you, Heejin’s mind was a storm of thoughts, she began formulating a plan in her head while connecting the dots between your shared moments in the virtual world and the reality before her. The quiet understanding that had passed between you left her intrigued and curious about the path ahead.

-----

As you and Nari were about to leave the venue, one of the staff members approached you with a smile.

“Excuse me, sir? Heejin-ssi wanted to know if you and your sister would like to come backstage for a private meet-and-greet,” the staff member said politely.

Nari’s eyes lit up with pure joy, her excitement overflowing. “Really?! Oppa! We get to meet them again!”

Caught off guard, you glanced at the staff member, then at Nari, who was practically jumping with excitement. “Uh... sure,” you said hesitantly, feeling your nerves spike. You weren’t sure why Heejin wanted to see you both again, but Nari’s happiness was impossible to deny.

As you and Nari followed the staff member backstage, her excitement was palpable. She couldn’t stop bouncing on her feet, her little princess crown slightly askew as she held your hand tightly. You were led into a private room where the rest of the ARTMS members were hanging out after the event, casually chatting and relaxing in their costumes.

When you entered, the girls looked up, clearly surprised to see two new faces.

“Who’s this?” Jinsoul asked, her brow raised in curiosity as she eyed you and Nari.

Kim Lip, lounging on a couch, tilted her head. “Did we invite guests?” she asked, glancing at Heejin, who stood just behind you and Nari.

Nari, oblivious to the confusion, immediately ran up to the group, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Unnie, we met earlier today, and Heejin unnie brought us back” she announced.

The girls exchanged amused glances at Nari’s enthusiasm, though they were clearly still puzzled by the situation.

Heejin smiled warmly at Nari, then looked at her members. “Sorry for the surprise, but... I need to talk to my friend about something privately. Could you all keep an eye on Nari for a few minutes?”

At first, the girls seemed a bit unsure, but the moment they looked at Nari—who was grinning up at them with wide, eager eyes—they couldn’t resist.

“Oh, of course” Choerry said, kneeling down to Nari’s level. “We’ll have so much fun, won’t we, Nari?”

Nari clapped her hands excitedly. “Yay! I get to hang out with all the pretty unnies!”

Heejin smiled gratefully, her heart warmed by how quickly the girls took to Nari. But as she turned to you, her expression shifted. There was a quiet intensity in her eyes, an unspoken tension simmering just beneath the surface.

“Let’s go,” Heejin said softly, her voice steady yet charged with something more.

Sensing the shift in the air, you nodded and opened the door for her. You followed her into a quieter, smaller room down the hallway. As you closed the door behind you, a thick silence settled over the space. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you.

Turning back to face her, you asked, “So, Noxelia, your real name is Heejin?”

Before you could finish your sentence, Heejin moved. In an instant, she crossed the small distance between you and threw herself into your arms, cutting you off with a fierce, passionate kiss. Her lips met yours with a hunger that had been building for weeks, a need restrained by the boundaries of the game but now unleashed without limits. The sensation of her body pressed against yours was overwhelming, and for a moment, your mind went blank as you lost yourself in the kiss.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer as you deepened the kiss, matching her intensity. The kiss was raw, filled with all the pent-up emotions you hadn’t been able to express in Infinity. The passion, the longing—it all came crashing down in this moment, unrestrained and real in a way the game could never allow.

Heejin’s hands slid up your chest, trying to hold on to your costume as if anchoring herself to you. It was so different from the touches you had shared in the virtual world—this was real, tangible, electric. You could feel her heartbeat through her body, her breath warm against your skin as you kissed like you were making up for all the time you had held back.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, your forehead rested against hers, your breathing heavy in the quiet room.

“That’s... what we couldn’t do in the game,” Heejin whispered, her voice barely above a breathless laugh.

You chuckled softly, still holding her close, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. We couldn’t.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still pressed together, savoring the closeness. Everything you hadn’t been able to express in the game—the connection you had built, the tension that had grown between you—was finally being released.

As Heejin’s eyes fluttered open, meeting your gaze, there was something in them now that wasn’t just desire—it was understanding, a shared recognition of what you had both been feeling all along. The virtual world had been a safe space for you to explore your emotions, but this... this was real, raw, and far beyond anything you could have experienced in Infinity.

Heejin’s fingers slid from your chest to the collar of your costume, gently tugging at it. Her eyes remained locked on yours, but there was a new determination in them. Slowly, she began unfastening your knight’s armor, peeling it away as if removing the final barrier separating you from reality. The metaphor wasn’t lost on either of you—it was as though you were stripping away the layers of your avatars, your game personas, to reveal the people you truly were underneath.

You felt your breath catch as her fingers worked their way down, exposing more of your costume piece by piece. The air around you seemed to thicken, charged with the tension that had been building for so long. Every piece of armor that came undone felt like peeling back another layer of the virtual world you had once hidden behind.

Heejin’s hands moved deliberately, her touch light but charged with anticipation as she pushed the rest of your costume off, letting it fall to the floor. Your skin tingled where her hands had been, and for a moment, you just stood there, drinking each other in. Without the game between you, every movement felt more intense, more intimate.

Your hands moved instinctively, reaching for the violet armor. Your fingers brushed against the painted foam as you began lifting it, and she raised her arms to help you remove it. As the material slipped over her head and joined your costume on the floor, your eyes met again, and the reality of the moment hit you both. This wasn’t a fantasy anymore—it was real.

The tension between you crackled as your hands began to explore one another’s bodies, mapping out the skin that was previously an avatar. Each touch was deliberate, each caress more intimate than anything you had shared in Infinity. It was as if you were finally free to feel everything you had only imagined in the game.

Heejin’s breath hitched as your hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer. She could feel the heat of your skin against hers, the rhythm of your heartbeat matching her own. It was different from the game—the sensations were more raw, more intense. Every inch of her body was alive with anticipation.

Slowly, your hands moved to her back, unclasping the layer of fabric that separated you. As her undergarments fell away, Heejin leaned into you, her lips finding you again. The kiss was slower this time, more deliberate, as you savored the feeling of being together without the virtual barrier.

“This...” Heejin whispered between kisses, her voice soft but filled with meaning. “This is what we were missing.”

Your hands roamed her body, your touch sending shivers down her spine. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice low and breathless. “We don’t have to hold back anymore.”

The world outside faded away, leaving only you and Heejin, wrapped in a warmth that felt both profound and familiar. Every touch, every kiss held an unspoken promise, slowly dismantling the barriers of your virtual past and grounding you in the undeniable reality of this moment.

You pulled her close, sinking gently onto the soft floor, her breaths mingling with yours as the heat between you intensified. Here, in this quiet sanctuary, there was no pretense—just two people, stripped of all facades, exposed and vulnerable in the most beautiful way. This was a release of everything you’d been holding back, a connection neither of you could deny any longer.

Your lips brushed over her neck, coaxing a soft gasp from Heejin as her hands tightened around you, as if to steady herself in the vivid reality of the moment. Every kiss was a new discovery, an exploration of the person you had known deeply but were now feeling in a way you’d only dreamed of. Your hands drifted slowly down her body, savoring the warmth and softness of her skin. Heejin’s breath grew heavier, her body arching into you with each touch.

Heejin’s fingers wove into your hair, pulling you into a kiss that was both tender and charged with a deep, unspoken need. Her lips moved over yours with a mix of softness and intensity, as if savoring every moment of closeness. When her kisses traveled to your neck, you felt a warmth bloom between you, a gentle urgency in every touch that deepened the connection you both shared.

As a response, you let your lips trail down her body, leaving soft kisses along her chest and midriff. Her skin was warm and inviting beneath your lips, each kiss a way of conveying everything you felt. You continued slowly, savoring each inch, feeling her body respond to your touch.

When you reached her folds, you lingered, savoring the warmth of her body as you moved closer, your breath warm against her skin. Her taste was subtle and intoxicating, a hint of sweetness that seemed to draw you further into the intimacy, deepening your own arousal. The soft, responsive way her body moved beneath your touch only heightened your senses, each gentle shiver urging you onward as you let your kisses and touch communicate everything words couldn’t express.

A soft moan escaped Heejin’s lips, her fingers tightening in your hair as her breath quickened. Her sounds were quiet at first, then grew as she arched into you, each moan revealing her pleasure, her body attuned to every movement. Her voice, soft yet unmistakably filled with longing, filled the room, wrapping around you, encouraging you, drawing you closer.

Every movement was careful, deliberate, as you lost yourself in the closeness, the way her body responded to your touch. Her taste lingered on your lips, her scent surrounding you, blending with the warmth that continued to build between you, heightening the intensity with each passing second. Heejin’s soft moans became a melody, matching the rhythm of your shared connection, pulling you deeper into the moment.

In this timeless moment, there were no avatars, no screens—just the two of you, fully present, experiencing the depth of your bond in a way that was breathtaking and real. The intensity of your shared desire blended seamlessly with the vulnerability you both offered, crafting a connection that was as unforgettable as it was profound.

Heejin's eyes fluttered open, locking with yours as you positioned yourself between her parted thighs. Her pulse quickened, her body trembling with anticipation. "I want you," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need you."

Your gaze softened, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that had escaped down her cheek. "I'm here," you murmured, your lips ghosting over hers. "I'll always be here for you, Heejin."

With a gentle thrust of your hips, you entered her, your eyes never leaving hers as you began to move. Heejin's fingers dug into your shoulders, her nails leaving faint crescent-shaped marks on your skin. A soft moan slipped past her lips as you filled her completely, the sensation unlike anything she had ever known.

You moved together, your bodies rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm. Your lips found the sensitive spot beneath her ear, your teeth grazing the delicate skin as you kissed and nipped along her neck. Heejin's hips lifted to meet yours, her body arching into your touch like a bow drawn taut.

The coil of pleasure within her tightened with each thrust, each caress of your hands on her skin. Your breath grew ragged against her ear, your movements becoming more urgent as you chased your shared release. Heejin could feel her own climax building, the heat within her threatening to consume her entire being.

"I'm close," you rasped, your voice strained with the effort to hold back. "Heejin, tell me when you're ready. I want to feel you come undone beneath me."

Heejin's nails raked down your back, urging you on as she teetered on the brink of ecstasy. "Dont stop" she gasped, her head falling back against the pillow. "I'm so close. Please, don't stop."

Your hips snapped forward, your thrusts becoming harder, faster as you felt Heejin's body begin to tighten around you. You covered her lips with yours, swallowing her cries of pleasure as her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Heejin's body trembled and shook with pleasure as she reached her peak, her fingers digging into your back as she held onto you for dear life. Her breath hitched as she cried out, her pussy clenching and spasming around your length as she came undone beneath you.

The sensation of Heejin's climax enveloped you, utterly overwhelming as you found yourself beyond the point of restraint. With a final, profound plunge, you reached the pinnacle of your own pleasure. As you withdrew, your essence flowed forth, cascading across her folds, trailing up her torso to her stomach, and finally gracing her breasts with a warm, intimate embrace.

Your body shuddered as you caught your breath, your hips still jerking slightly as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you. You pressed your forehead against hers, your heavy breathing syncing up as you both rode out the waves of pleasure together.

The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breaths and the lingering scent of your lovemaking. Your heart raced in your chest as you looked into Heejin's eyes, seeing the same intensity and passion reflected back at you.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips as you both came down from your high. Pulling her close, you held her tightly against you as you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your shared climax. It was a moment you knew you would never forget.

You remained intertwined, your bodies still joined, hearts beating in sync as you slowly drifted back down to earth. Your hand sought out Heejin’s, fingers intertwining as you brushed a sweat-dampened strand of hair from her face.

Heejin rested her head against your chest, tracing gentle circles on your skin with her fingers as you both caught your breath. There was a sense of calm between you now, a peaceful silence that spoke volumes about what you had just shared.

You stroked her hair softly, your heart still pounding in your chest, but there was a new sense of ease in how you held each other. You had peeled away all the layers of your virtual world and stepped fully into reality, facing the rawness of your feelings without hesitation.

“This,” Heejin whispered, her voice soft yet filled with meaning. “This is more than I ever imagined.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah,” you agreed, your voice low and tender. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

As the soft light of the room dimmed around you, the weight of your shared reality settled in, more tangible than any moment you had experienced in the game. There were no barriers left—no pixels, no layers of code, just your hearts and bodies, fully exposed to one another.

You pressed another soft kiss to Heejin’s forehead, the warmth between you undeniable. As you lay there, content in each other's presence, reality began to creep back in. You had crossed the boundary from virtual to real, and now, there was no turning back.

Heejin looked up at you, her eyes still bright with affection. "What happens now?" she asked, her voice quiet but filled with hope.

You smiled, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "I think," you began, your tone steady, "we make sure this becomes part of our real lives. Not just some moment, but something we build on. You and me."

Heejin’s heart swelled at your words, her hand gently squeezing yours. "I want that, too," she whispered, her smile reflecting yours.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you sat up, your body still warm and glistening from the closeness you’d shared. "We should probably get back," you murmured, glancing over at Heejin with a soft smile. "The girls are still with my sister."

Heejin chuckled, sitting up beside you and brushing her hair back. "Yeah, I’m sure they’ve been spoiling her."

You rose to your feet and offered her a hand, helping her up. "She’s pretty cute," you said with a grin, "so I can’t really blame them."

You both laughed, and for a moment, you held onto each other’s gaze. The quiet understanding between you felt like the beginning of something real—something you both wanted to explore.

You helped clean her up before gathering your costumes, and together, you slipped into your outfits. The air was filled with a relaxed ease as you each adjusted your armor, side by side, occasionally stealing glances that held all the warmth of the moment you’d just shared. Heejin adjusted the last piece of her costume with a final, satisfied pat, flashing you a smile that seemed to mirror your own.

Once ready, you exchanged a look that needed no words. This was a new chapter for you both, and you felt the unspoken excitement of stepping into it together.

Hand in hand, you made your way back to the dressing room. The moment you stepped inside, Nari’s delighted voice filled the air as she spotted you. She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by Heejin's fellow members, who were all laughing and doting on her, filling the room with lighthearted chatter.

As soon as Nari wrapped herself around your leg, her face lit up with excitement. "Oppa! Unnie! There you guys are!" she chirped, her eyes bright with joy. "We are having so much fun, I learned how to do the splits" She looked up at you, clearly not ready for the day to end.

Heejin grinned at the sight, her heart warming at how easily Nari had fit in with her members. You smiled down at your sister, and though you hated to interrupt her fun, you knew it was time to leave.

"Thats amazing, Nari, but we have to say goodbye to the girl now," you said gently but firmly.

Immediately, Nari’s face fell. "Nooo, I don’t wanna go!" she whined, her hold on your leg tightening. "Can’t we stay longer?"

You glanced at Heejin, who gave you an understanding look, her eyes soft with affection. You smiled, then knelt down to meet Nari’s eyes. "I’m sure we’ll see them again soon," you said, your tone reassuring. "Promise."

Nari pouted but eventually relented, giving all the members a quick hug goodbye before holding your hand.

As Heejin walked both of you towards the door, the members exchanged curious glances. The second the door clicked shut behind you, the room exploded with excited whispers. Haseul leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Okay, spill. Who was that?"

The other girls eagerly chimed in, all buzzing with questions.

Heejin, still feeling the lingering warmth of your hand in hers, blushed slightly but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. She glanced at the door, already missing you, then looked back at her members, trying to play it cool.

"That was a friend," she said, laughing softly as she shrugged. "We met online."

[makingqueerhistory]

Spooky Queer Books

Since spooky season is starting, I thought I would share a list of my favourite queer books that are great for this time of year.

Some of these links are affiliate links.

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror

Joe Vallese

Horror movies hold a complicated space in the hearts of the queer community: historically misogynist, and often homo- and transphobic, the genre has also been inadvertently feminist and open to subversive readings. Common tropes--such as the circumspect and resilient "final girl," body possession, costumed villains, secret identities, and things that lurk in the closet--spark moments of eerie familiarity and affective connection. Still, viewers often remain tasked with reading themselves into beloved films, seeking out characters and set pieces that speak to, mirror, and parallel the unique ways queerness encounters the world.It Came from the Closet features twenty-five essays by writers speaking to this relationship, through connections both empowering and oppressive. From Carmen Maria Machado on Jennifer's Body, Jude Ellison S. Doyle on In My Skin, Addie Tsai on Dead Ringers, and many more, these conversations convey the rich reciprocity between queerness and horror.

Into the Drowning Deep

Mira Grant

The ocean is home to many myths, But some are deadly... Seven years ago the Atargatis set off on a voyage to the Mariana Trench to film a mockumentary bringing to life ancient sea creatures of legend. It was lost at sea with all hands. Some have called it a hoax; others have called it a tragedy. Now a new crew has been assembled. But this time they're not out to entertain. Some seek to validate their life's work. Some seek the greatest hunt of all. Some seek the truth. But for the ambitious young scientist Victoria Stewart this is a voyage to uncover the fate of the sister she lost. Whatever the truth may be, it will only be found below the waves. But the secrets of the deep come with a price.

The Devouring Gray

C. L. Herman

After her sister's death, seventeen-year-old Violet Saunders finds herself dragged to Four Paths, New York. Violet may be a newcomer, but she soon learns her mother isn't: They belong to one of the revered founding families of the town, where stone bells hang above every doorway and danger lurks in the depths of the woods. Justin Hawthorne's bloodline has protected Four Paths for generations from the Gray--a lifeless dimension that imprisons a brutal monster. After Justin fails to inherit his family's powers, his mother is determined to keep this humiliation a secret. But Justin can't let go of the future he was promised and the town he swore to protect. Ever since Harper Carlisle lost her hand to an accident that left her stranded in the Gray for days, she has vowed revenge on the person who abandoned her: Justin Hawthorne. There are ripples of dissent in Four Paths, and Harper seizes an opportunity to take down the Hawthornes and change her destiny--to what extent, even she doesn't yet know. The Gray is growing stronger every day, and its victims are piling up. When Violet accidentally unleashes the monster, all three must band together with the other Founders to unearth the dark truths behind their families' abilities...before the Gray devours them all.

Tell Me I'm Worthless

Alison Rumfitt

Three years ago, Alice spent one night in an abandoned house with her friends, Ila and Hannah. Since then, Alice's life has spiraled. She lives a haunted existence, selling videos of herself for money, going to parties she hates, drinking herself to sleep. Memories of that night torment Alice, but when Ila asks her to return to the House, to go past the KEEP OUT sign and over the sick earth where teenagers dare each other to venture, Alice knows she must go. Together, Alice and Ila must face the horrors that happened there, must pull themselves apart from the inside out, put their differences aside, and try to rescue Hannah, whom the House has chosen to make its own. Cutting, disruptive, and darkly funny, Tell Me I'm Worthless is a vital work of trans fiction that examines the devastating effects of trauma and how fascism makes us destroy ourselves and each other.

[mmountseb]

Your Shirt

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex

Notes: haven’t wrote one in so long and decided to finally give it a go hope you like it

Your Shirt - Mason Mount fluff

As Mason lays beside Y/N in his bed, his heart swelled with a potent mixture of desire and pride as he gazed upon her wearing nothing but his England shirt, with his name proudly displayed on her back.

As much as she was from a different country she still felt the need to wear his country shirt with his name on her back

The fabric draped over her curves in a tantalizing display, accentuating her beauty and igniting a fierce sense of possessiveness within him.

He wanted her in a way they hadn’t been intimate yet

With each glance at her, Mason felt a surge of desire well up inside him, knowing that she had chosen to wear his shirt, a symbol of their connection and intimacy.

The sight of her wearing it filled him with a sense of validation and belonging, as if she had willingly wrapped herself in his identity, embracing all that he was.

It was the deeper, more profound sense of intimacy and trust that it represented.

In that moment, as they lay together in the quiet intimacy of their shared space, Mason felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the woman beside him, for her unwavering support and love.

As he reached out to trace the letters of his name on her back, Mason couldn't help but feel a surge of desire course through him, the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips sparking a fire within him that burned with a fierce intensity.

Their bodies pressed together in the quiet intimacy of their shared space, as much as he was supposed to be paying attention to the film she had picked he couldn’t help himself but letting his mind wander to how would it feel to have her ride him while wearing his name on her back

His mind was travelling to forbidden territory, fueled by the intoxicating sight of her wearing nothing but his England shirt.

With each gentle movement she made, the fabric of the shirt shifted against her skin, accentuating her curves and igniting a primal desire within him.

As he watched her, a vivid image began to form in his mind—a fantasy of Y/N pleasuring him while still wearing his shirt.

The thought alone sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine, his body responding instinctively to the imagined sensation of her hands roaming his skin beneath the fabric.

Lost in the intensity of his desire, Mason couldn't help but hug her from behind while hiding his face on the curve of her neck and pulling her even closer enough to let her know that he was turned on

Y/N's innocent apology cut through Mason’s reverie, snapping him back to the present moment with a jolt.

He blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the realization of where his thoughts had taken him.

Y/N: "I'm sorry, Mase. I didn't mean to... you know, make you feel... turned on."

Her words were tentative, laced with a hint of uncertainty as she glanced at him, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush.

Mason: "No babe it's not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for."

His voice came out a little too hastily, a touch of awkwardness coloring his tone as he tried to reassure her.

Mason: "I mean, it's just... you look really good in my shirt, and... well, I couldn't help but let my mind wander a bit."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at his candid admission, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she processed his words.

Y/N: "Oh, um... thank you. I guess I didn't realize the effect it would have on you." She said turning around to face him on his embrace

Mason: "Yeah, well... you have that effect on me, Y/N. You always have."

His words came out softer than he had intended, tinged with a vulnerability he hadn't planned on revealing.

But as he looked into Y/N's eyes, he knew that he couldn't hide the truth from her—that she had always held a power over him, a power that transcended words and boundaries.

Y/N's smile widened at his admission, a warmth spreading through her at the depth of his feelings

She felt bravely enough to bite her lips and take her hands to his hair.

Not before taking his hands further down on her body earning a gently tugging on her soft but cheek

Y/N: "You have that effect on me too”

In that moment, as they shared a knowing glance, Mason felt a sense of connection and understanding wash over him

He felt the need to pull her even closer even if it wasn’t physically possible anymore

As their eyes locked in a shared moment of understanding and vulnerability, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension. In a surge of longing and desire, Mason leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from Y/N's.

With a whispered exhale, Y/N closed the remaining distance, her lips meeting his in a kiss that ignited a firestorm of passion between them.

Their mouths moved together with a fervent hunger, each touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through their veins.

His hands found their way to Y/N's waist, under the shirt, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, their bodies melding together in a primal dance of desire.

Y/N responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him, her heart racing with the intensity of their connection.

Their kiss was filled with an urgency born of longing and need, each touch a silent plea for more.

They lost themselves in the heat of the moment, the world falling away as they surrendered to the raw, unbridled passion that consumed them.

In that fleeting moment, as their lips met in a fervent embrace. There was no turning back anymore now

Lost in the intensity of the moment, they surrendered to the fire that burned between them, their kisses growing more urgent and desperate with each passing second.

Time seemed to stand still as they melted into each other, consumed by the raw passion that ignited their souls

Mason reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Y/N's face as he searched her eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation after pulling away from the kiss

Mason: "Are you okay? I didn't mean to... I mean, I hope I didn't..."

Y/N silenced him with a soft kiss, her lips meeting his in a tender embrace that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

Y/N: "I'm more than okay, Mase. I've never felt more alive than I do in this moment."

Mason felt a surge of relief wash over him at her words, his fears and doubts melting away in the warmth of her embrace.

Mason: "Good. Because I... I don't want to stop kissing you. Ever."

Their laughter mingled with the soft sounds of their shared breaths, filling the air with a sense of joy and contentment that seemed to transcend time and space.

Y/N: "Then don't. Kiss me again."

And with that simple invitation, Mason leaned in, capturing Y/N's lips in another electrifying kiss

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

All U Ever Wanted

★ PAIRING: A/O 00line x Alpha! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 7k

★ GENRE(S): Smut. A/B/O

☆ SUMMARY: You couldn’t wait for the day when you would finally present. The feeling of being left behind as everyone around you embraced their identities as alphas, betas, and omegas was suffocating. You had been counting down the days until it was your turn. But when the long-awaited day finally arrived, it was nothing like you had imagined.

★ ☆ WARNING: Manhandling, Bondage, Degradation, Fight for dominance, Explicit sex. Unprotected sex. Riding, Double Penetration, Creampie, Knotting, MDNI, Mature

Everyone say thank you to @shadysuitdonut for the recommendation

@vnti-vntiety-recs Can you write about…yk like alpha or something of 00liners together and this time with twist like the reader is alpha…..and by the way i love your work ….it is just a recommendation…I hope you do it💕💕☺️☺️

You loved movie nights with your friends. When you were with them, it felt like you truly belonged. Growing up, you had been teased relentlessly because you still hadn't presented, while everyone else had already gone through puberty and claimed their ranks.

Out of your little pack, Jeno was the first. Everyone knew he would be an alpha, and when the day came, no one was surprised. Then came Haechan, full of himself and puffing out his chest, confidently declaring he would present as an alpha—only to end up as an omega. You couldn’t help but laugh; it felt great to finally have the opportunity to tease someone else for once.

Jaemin was next. He always had a laid-back attitude toward presenting, seeming indifferent to whatever rank he might get. You were pretty sure he’d be a beta, but to everyone’s surprise, he presented as an alpha as well. You thought Jeno was more thrilled about it than Jaemin was; after all, his best friend shared his rank now.

Finally, there was Renjun. Like Haechan, he was an omega, but instead of feeling upset, he took it in stride. “It’s just the way of life,” he would say, comforting you. “We can’t control what we are, just like we can’t control when we become who we are.” He meant well, but those words didn’t soothe your frustration. Deep down, you knew that no matter how much you tried to brush it off, the fact that you were still unranked bothered you to no end.

Was something wrong with you? Were you even a hybrid? If it weren’t for the fluffy ears perched atop your head and the sharper-than-normal canines in your mouth, you felt like you were just an outsider, watching helplessly as your friends navigated the changes that came with their new identities.

You had been there for Jeno during his first rut, the only one who could get close to him without triggering his instincts. Your scent weak, allowing you to bring him suppressants. You also stood by Haechan when his mate rejected him, supporting him through the months of heartache that followed.

You watched as they all grew more confident, finding their footing as either alphas or omegas, while you remained… just you. The feeling of being stuck in place gnawed at you, a constant reminder that you were still unranked. Would you ever catch up? Would you ever feel that sense of belonging that seemed to come so easily to them?

All you had ever wanted was to present.

You were always told that it was normal to present late, that everyone was different, but you couldn’t shake the imposter syndrome. Now, as Jaemin and Jeno held you back, their concerned expressions etched into your memory, you wished you could go back to the life you had once been so ungrateful for.

...

It was movie night—a regular day just like any other. Your friends were over, and you were in the middle of watching the film Renjun had selected when a surge shot through your body. It felt like electricity, buzzing from your fingertips to your toes. The intensity was overwhelming, and without thinking, you jumped to your feet, instinctively shifting into survival mode. The light from the TV suddenly felt blinding, almost stinging your eyes.

Your ears were ringing, drowning out the sounds around you, and you could barely make out the muffled, worried voices of your friends. Panic rose within you as your hands grew clammy and your mouth went dry. Gritting your teeth, you tried to focus on your surroundings, your vision slowly coming into focus amidst the swirling chaos.

You could make out the darkened room, illuminated only by the flickering screen, and the anxious figures of your friends closing in on you. “Hey! Just breathe!” Jaemin urged, his voice barely cutting through the haze. “We’re here!” Jeno added, trying to keep his voice steady.

Their words barely registered as a wave of confusion washed over you. What was happening? Suddenly, you felt a shift—a scent filled your lungs, causing you to shudder.

That Scent.

You felt almost dizzy from the intoxicating scent that surrounded you. It was Haechan and Renjun, and the overwhelming allure of their scent surged through you like a tide. You instinctively covered your nose, hoping it would somehow help, but it didn’t—nothing could suppress the wild thrumming in your veins. How were Jaemin and Jeno able to sit there, seemingly unaffected by the immediate magnetic draw of the two suddenly most delectable beings in your world?

Frantically, you backed up, needing space, needing to escape.

“What’s wrong?” Haechan’s voice finally penetrated through the haze, soft and laced with concern. He stepped toward you, hand outstretched, attempting to offer comfort.

“Get away from me!” you snarled, the words coming out more viciously than intended.

Jaemin, sensing danger and your increasing distress, stepped forward, his eyes flashing red—a stark warning. The scent that emanated from him cut through the chaos, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket, urging you to calm down, to contain the storm inside you.

“Calm down, take a breather,” he said, though his voice felt distant, drowned out by the roar of your emotions.

You furrowed your brows, fists clenching tightly at your sides. Who did he think he was, telling you how to feel, how to act? He didn’t know the torment swirling inside you. You felt like you were dying, crushed beneath the weight of conflicting instincts and emotions.

Your anger bubbled to the surface, setting your heart racing even faster. With a harsh glare, you locked eyes with Jaemin. Renjun gasped, tension rippling through the air as Jeno moved to stand beside Jaemin, ready to act fast if anything escalated. Everything was too much; you needed to be alone.

Before anyone could reach for you, you turned on your heel and dashed toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. The impact made a loud crack, and you winced at the sound.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, but it was a losing battle. Their scent overwhelmed you, filling your lungs and stirring something primal within. The more you inhaled, the stronger your urges became, clawing their way to the surface, threatening to consume you whole.

You pressed your back against the bathroom door, fighting back tears, battling the storm of emotions. The pounding in your chest echoed in your ears as you struggled for control in a moment that felt utterly out of reach.

Go away. Go away. Go away.

You chanted the words under your breath, eyes watering with frustration and fear. Turning the faucet on, you thrust your hands under the cool rush of water, willing it to soothe the sudden heat coursing through your body. Sweat prickled at your brow, the snug sweater you wore suddenly felt stifling against the cool air conditioning of your apartment. You cupped your hands and splashed cold water onto your face, hoping it would bring some clarity. As you stared blankly into the sink, your thoughts felt like a jumbled mess. Finally, you looked up into the mirror, searching for something—any sign—that would explain what was happening to you.

What stared back was not the familiar face you recognized.

Your eyes glowed a deep, unsettling red, vibrant like blood, reflecting back a stranger. You weren’t just you anymore.

You were an Alpha.

...

Ten minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity. You sat curled up in the tub, the shower cascading over you like a waterfall, mixing with the tears you couldn’t suppress. At first, the discomfort had been minor—a dull ache in your gut—but it had since bloomed into something unbearable, a searing reminder of the truth you were grappling with. You were wet, but it wasn’t just from the water.

So far you had been able to keep them away. You had yelled out that you were fine, that you just needed a few moments to yourself but they had seen your eyes, glowing with an intensity you couldn’t ignore, and they were worried.

“Open the door! We can help you!” Jaemin's voice rang out as he pounded on the bathroom door.

Jaemin and Jeno had taken turns checking on you. You heard Haechan and Renjun leave earlier but they were back now. They remained in the living room as Jaemin and Jeno continued to badger you.

“If you don’t open this door, I will break it down!” Jeno barked, his tone low and threatening, a growl barely concealed.

You knew that if anyone could help you—if anyone would understand what you were going through—it would be them. Yet, you were paralyzed by the fear of hurting them.

You also did not want to face Jeno. You and Jeno were…something.

The complexities of your relationship made you uncertain of what to call it. You weren’t strangers to each other; you had helped him during his own ruts when the suppressants wouldn't take. The thought sent your heart racing, your thighs clenching involuntarily. He had always been so sure you were destined to be an Omega. You had to be an Omega. His Omega.

“Please, just let us in! We just want to help.” Jaemin pleaded, softer now, his voice filled with a sincerity that tugged at your heart. “We have suppresants!”

Finally, you turn off the shower and rise slowly, trying to keep your balance as water dripped from your skin. Swallowing hard, you shuffled over to the door, bracing yourself for what lay beyond. When you opened it, a rush of air hit you, heavy with the unmistakable scent of Omega. It overwhelmed your senses all over again, causing a guttural growl to rip from your throat, brutal and raw. You could feel your chest shake from the force of it.

Before you could search for the two omegas, Jaemin and Jeno pushed through the door and grabbed hold of you. They pulled you out of the bathroom, and your instinct was to struggle against their firm grip, resisting as they dragged you toward your bedroom. Two strong bodies lifted your soaking frame onto the bed, and you cringed as you soaked through the covers beneath you. They were able to hold you down with ease as long as they worked together, but if either of them let up for even a second, you were confident you could break free.

“Renjun, bring us the suppressants!” Jeno yelled, his voice steeped in urgency.

Moments later, Renjun enters with a pill and a glass of water, and Haechan follows close behind with heavy-looking chains in hand. A fresh wave of panic coursed through you as realization set in, and you struggled even harder against their grips.

“Calm down! You’re in rut, and it's only going to get worse. Me and Jaemin won’t be able to hold you back all night,” Jaemin said, his eyes glowing with an intensity that matched your own.

“Don’t come any closer!” you shouted, your voice sharp and shaky. But the moment Renjun stepped forward, his intoxicating scent engulfed you, setting your senses ablaze. Your body betrayed you, slick pooling between your thighs, amplifying the discomfort of your already sodden clothes.

You cringed at the sensation—wet fabric clinging to your skin, sheets sticking to your back. Your pulsing walls ached, an insistent reminder of your desire. The fact that you were empty when there were four cocks in the room was aggravating. You needed to undress. You needed to touch yourself. You needed to find release, to fuck something—anything.

You just NEED

Jaemin and Jeno tightened their grip on you, their muscles coiling like steel around you as they securely held you in place. You caught glimpses of something dark swirling within their gazes—something primal—before your eyes shifted back to Renjun.

“It’s the last we have,” Renjun said, bringing the pill up to your lips with a steady hand. You instinctively leaned forward, taking the pill from his fingers. You wrapped your lips around his fingers, sucking gently and deliberately. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

The moment your mouth enveloped him, a low moan escaped you, a sound that seemed to resonate through the room like a siren call. You stared him down, hunger in your eyes, and you could see Renjun’s breath hitch as he whispered, “Fuck.”

He hesitated, as if he were stuck in a trance, before gently tilting your head back to help you drink some of the water, ensuring you could swallow the pill. You intentionally let the water slip past your lips, trailing it down the column of your throat, where it soaked into the fabric of your shirt. His eyes followed the droplet hungrily, desire flickering in his gaze. He looked as if he wanted to lick it up, like a man lost in a desert, parched and yearning for even the faintest hint of relief

You sensed the shift in his demeanor immediately. A smirk crept across your lips. Haechan stood beside Renjun eyeing you carefully before handing him the chains that glinted ominously in the dim light. Together, they worked swiftly to restrain your arms to the bed, using the heavy links to confine you.

“You think that will hold?” Jeno asked, skepticism in his voice.

“It’s all we have. It will have to,” Haechan replied.

“It should be enough until the suppressants kick in,” Jaemin called from beside you.

Their grips finally loosened, and in an instant, you snapped upright, tugging against the chains that bound your wrists to the bed. Your instincts flared; adrenaline coursed through you as you tested the strength of the restraints, thrashing for just a moment before the futility of the effort dawned on you.

The room fell silent, a heavy anticipation hanging in the air as all eyes focused on you as they awaited the effect of the suppressants to kick in. As shallow panting filled the silence, you began to feel the suppressant taking the edge off. It was a fleeting relief, but it was clear that this was just a temporary lull; the intensity of your rut coursed through you, too fierce and too primal for mere suppression. Yet, amidst your own breaths, another sound penetrated the haze surrounding you—a breathlessly heavy panting that wasn’t yours.

The room's attention turned to Renjun, who had backed up behind Haechan. His chest heaved rhythmically, eyes wide as they flickered between you and the others. You could see the blush creeping across his cheeks. The way he was drawn to you only intensified the fire igniting inside you.

“What’s wrong, Renjun?” you asked, a low growl underlining your question. It was rhetorical; you knew he was feeling the effects of your rut. If he smelled great before, he smelled even better now.

“Your joking!” Haechan groaned in exasperation, looking between you and Renjun as if trying to comprehend this sudden shift in dynamics.

“I’m sorry— I…ugh fuck, I can’t help it,” Renjun moaned, his voice strained. You could see the way he fought to keep himself composed, and the sight alone sent heat pooling deep within you. It seemed that somewhere in the haze of your rut, you had triggered Renjun's own heat.

Jaemin ran a frustrated hand down his face, clearly frustrated with the unexpected turn of events. Jeno shook his head in disbelief,

“Don’t hide, Renjun,” you taunted, your voice dripping with both desire and challenge. “You want to see, don’t you?” There was an intoxicating thrill in your words, a reckless abandon that pushed his limits.

Your gaze moves down his body, and when it lands on the bulge in his pants, you rub your legs together, attempting to relieve the ache between them. Your back arches, and you can't help but think that it’s probably for the best that you’re chained up; otherwise, you’d undoubtedly take Renjun right there, riding him until morning with everyone watching.

“Renjun,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, seduction lacing the words. There was something about the vulnerability in his eyes that awakened something deep inside you.

“Don’t—” Haechan started, glancing nervously between the two of you, clearly unsure of how to navigate this new predicament.

“Renjun, please. At least help me get undressed. These clothes are wet; I’ll catch a cold,” you said, your tone deceptively calm in contrast to the raging storm inside. “I promise I won’t try anything. Just take my clothes off,” you urged, your voice dropping to a husky whisper, “and then you can sink your warm fat cock inside me, and I can milk you until your all used up… Doesn’t that sound good?” The lewdness of your words rolled off your tongue so easily—a stark contrast to the calm façade you wore.

“Fuck, I want that. I want you so bad…” Renjun’s resolve crumbled as he stepped closer, but Haechan stopped him, placing a firm hand on his chest.

“You are pathetic,” Haechan grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Someone hold him back; I’ll change her clothes,” he declared, taking charge in an attempt to bring some sense of order back to this chaos.

“Fuck,” Jeno muttered, the bewilderment in his eyes mixed with an undeniable hunger.

“Control yourselves!” Jaemin snapped, though the heat rising in his cheeks indicated he was struggling to maintain his composure as well, his gaze flicking between you and Renjun.

Jaemin steps away from his post beside you, grasping Renjun to restrain him. Renjun thrashed in Jaemin’s hold, murmuring incoherent babbles that sounded like desperate pleas laced with lust. Despite the commotion, your focus locked onto Haechan, who moved in closer, taking Jaemin’s spot on the bed.

“I have some other clothes in my closet; could you grab them, Jeno?” You requested sweetly, your gaze still fixated on Haechan, your expression a mask of calm defiance.

Jeno hesitated, worrying that leaving you alone with Haechan wasn’t the best idea. Yet when you mockingly lifted your hands, revealing the chains binding you, Jeno finally relented, moving toward the closet with a reluctant sigh.

Haechan strips you of your socks first, starting small. Next, he wasted no time in moving on to your shirt and ripping it open. You growled in response and your eyes flashed crimson—an unmistakable warning that he had overstepped with that show of dominance.

“Sorry,” he said, a smug smile curling his lips in a way that gets under your skin. The urge to put him in his place swelled inside you.

A shiver ran down your spine as the cool air brushed against your skin, hardening your nipples. You hadn’t worn a bra today since you were all just lounging around the house. You watched him intently as his gaze lingered on your chest for just a second too long before he finally looked away.

Then he began tugging at the sweats that hung loosely around your waist, and the sight made you bite your lip in anticipation. As he pulled them off, you instinctively spread your legs for him, a silent invitation. You could feel his eyes drawn to the soaked seat of your panties. The raw need reflected in his gaze sent a thrill through you.

He could smell you, and you watched as his brows furrowed in concentration, the internal battle seemingly waging in his mind. You could see the fight in his eyes fade as you brushed your legs against his thigh.

“You’re not just going to leave me like this, are you? You need to take my panties off too,” you whispered, low enough for only him to hear, a sultry challenge wrapped in vulnerability.

Jeno was still rummaged through your closet, and Jaemin was preoccupied, trying to restrain a feral Renjun in the corner of the room. Renjun had fought against Jaemin’s efforts to drag him out, frustrated and unwilling to leave despite Jaemin’s persistent attempts.

“Take them off. Don’t you want to see how wet I am for you?” Your voice dripped with need as you leaned in closer, ensuring he understood every tantalizing word. “You’re not a pathetic omega like Renjun; you can control yourself.” You sat up slightly, narrowing the distance between you, your eyes locking onto his with fierce intensity. “I know you can do it. You’re an alpha.”

You knew deep down that even though he accepted his omega status, he still craved to be an alpha, to be dominant.

His breath hitched at your words and, before he could think better of it, his hands moved instinctively. “I can do this,” he murmured.

He positioned himself between your legs, his fingers trailing along your skin as he slowly and carefully pulled your panties down. Finally, when he tugged them free, you sensed his eyes locked onto you, mesmerized and entranced. He was stupid, and he was going to give you whatever you wanted because it was his instinct.

“It’s all for you, baby,” you breathed. “Soaked just for you. Come taste me. It'll be worth it—I promise.” You leaned back slightly.

When your eyes locked with his, you could see it—the moment he completely lost himself to the instinct, to the heat of the moment. It was as if a switch had flipped inside him, and before anyone could intervene, he was bending down.

He hooked your legs around his shoulders, his grip firm and possessive, and then his tongue was plunged deep inside you. Your eyes instantly roll back and you try to bite back a scream but it was useless. He licked into your slickness with desperation. Your legs tightened around his head, drawing him closer as you rolled your hips instinctively, chasing the intoxicating sensations he was creating. His breaths becoming heavier as he indulged in you, lost in the taste and feel of your body. Then he pulled his tongue out just to lay it flat against your clit and you lose control as you grind against his face.

“NO! IT’S NOT FAIR!” Renjun yells from his spot in the corner, managing to break free from Jaemin's grip. Jaemin just stares, eyes wide with surprise, but that surprise quickly shifts to something darker, a glint of desire beginning to cloud his expression.

Jeno emerged from the closet, his chest heaving and unmistakably hard in his sweats. It became clear to you why he had been hidden away for so long: he had lost control some time ago and was trying to regain control in the confined space of the closet.

Renjun finally joined you on the bed, his warm mouth wrapping around one of your nipples as he started to suck and tease it softly. Moans escaped you as he caressed your body, his hands pinching and tugging at your nipples. . A mix of pleasure and frustration bubbled within you, and you felt tears brimming in your eyes. Everything was overwhelming—too much sensation but not enough satisfaction.

You needed someone inside of you. It frustrated you to be at the mercy of two omegas, both of them eliciting moans of pleasure from your lips when it should be the other way around. You despised the way your orgasm was held captive in their hands, knowing that they should be the ones underneath you, begging for your permission to let them cum.

Before you could voice your complaints, Jeno and Jaemin yanked Haechan and Renjun off of you. You blinked at the sight; it was like watching two puppies being dragged away by their collars.

They were about to complain when Jeno and Jaemin both growled in sync, their eyes flashing red in warning. Haechan and Renjun immediately fell silent, submitting to the authority.

"You two will sit and watch. You'll get your turn later," Jeno commanded.

Whining softly, Renjun and Haechan cowered, retreating to the far edge of the bed as Jeno and Jaemin closed in around you like the apex predators they truly were. You growl, your own eyes glowing a fierce red, clearly displeased with the interruption.

Jaemin was the first to strip, discarding his clothing in a swift, fluid motion. Meanwhile, Jeno settled beside you, pressing his lips to yours, dominating the kiss. He skillfully hooked one of your legs over his arm, holding you open as Jaemin positioned himself between your thighs.

You despised Jeno for making you submit, and you loathed the way Jaemin hovered over you. How he looked down at you pitifully but the moment the thick head of his cock pressed inside you, the fierce alpha within quieted to a whisper.

“Mmhmm, that’s what I thought, baby. You like that, don’t you? No matter how alpha you are, this pussy will take anything,” Jaemin taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.

A whine escaped your lips into Jeno's mouth, frustration mingling with a desperate craving that you hated admitting. You attempted to wrap your free leg around his hips, yearning for some semblance of control, but he deftly caught your leg and pinned it to your chest.

Jeno's other rough hand explored your chest, teasing your hard nipples. When he finally pulls back from the kiss, you take a moment to catch your breath as he kisses along your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive area where your neck meets your shoulder, eliciting a soft moan from you. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently as Jaemin continues to drive into you, fucking you deeper into the mattress.

With your hands bound and legs pinned, all you can do is surrender to the pleasure. You take everything they give you. The new alpha within you feels an intense rage, but your body, consumed by its rut, couldn't care less. Just as Jaemin said, as long as someone was filling up your greedy hole and satisfying your desires, you were content. For now. The bed creaked loudly with each thrust, emphasizing the force he fucked you with. You look up at him, his eyes barely open as he peers down at you, he hisses in response to how tight you are. His hair was messy and his skin shone with sweat.

Your eyes shift to find Haechan and Renjun watching you, completely captivated as they stroke themselves. Breaths coming in harsh gasps while fucking their fists. The sight drives you over the edge, your eyes roll back, and you lose it. You don't know where the strength comes from but in one swift motion, you rip the chains from the bedpost, the metal clinking as pieces scatter across the floor.

Jeno sits up in alarm, eyes widen in shock, but you waste no time; you grab his hair, pulling him closer to kiss you fiercely. He's surprised but immediately fights to take control of the kiss. You fight for dominance but this time you win. You use the firm grip in his hair to draw him deeper into the kiss, your tongues dancing messily together. You pull away teasingly, nipping at his lip before pushing him back slightly. Your gaze turns to Jaemin, reaching for him, but he catches your wrists, pinning them to the bed. Undeterred, you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling against his thrusts as a breathy moan escapes him.

“Fuck, just behave,” he growls.

You smirk, feeling that spark of rebellion. “Let me on top, and I’ll think about it.”

His eyes flash a deep red, trying to exert his dominance. “I think I like you just where you are,” he replies, his voice low and commanding. But you shake your head; you’re not an omega, and his tactics won’t work on you.

In a swift move, you slip from his grasp and push him back onto the bed. Jaemin tries to sit up, but you firmly press him down with your palms on his chest. Hovering over him, you can’t resist sinking down, dropping your head to watch him fill you up deliciously. A moan escapes your lips, unrestrained and filled with pleasure. Maybe it’s because you were an alpha now, but the rush of finally being in control and being on top feels undeniably amazing.

You clench around him tightly, riding him hard without any hesitation. He’s an alpha; he can take it. Jaemin glares up at you, a mix of frustration and desire in his eyes as you chase your own pleasure. The way you rake your claws down his chest makes his breath hitch, and you can feel his hands grasp at your waist, pulling you down harder against him in an attempt to control the pace. Surprisingly, you let him. You notice how he watches you sink down onto his cock over and over again. Not able to take his eyes from the spot where you two meet. Your hand sneaking up to wrap around his throat, forcing him to look up at you.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking hot. I can’t take this,” Renjun breathes, biting his bottom lip as he lays flat against the covers beside Jaemin, grinding against the mattress.

Suddenly, rough hands push against your back, pinning you against Jaemin's chest. Before you can protest, Jaemin grips the sides of your face, pulling you into a kiss that silences you completely. Just as you’re lost in the moment, you feel Jeno lining himself up behind you, pressing against your already full hole. A whine escapes your lips as he sinks in, filling you up completely.

You find yourself pinned between them, and somehow they've managed to regain the upper hand. Jaemin thrusts into you from below, pulling away from the kiss just enough to meet your gaze. The intensity in his eyes sends shivers down your spine as he rips your hand from his throat and wraps his own around yours, maintaining a firm hold. The pressure of the two of them working in unison sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you breathless and eager for more.

“Know your fucking place. I don’t care if you are an alpha, your going to submit like a good girl,” he spits before slapping the side of your thigh.

You hear a dark chuckle from behind you as Jeno thrusts into you, stretching you impossibly wider. "I told you one day you would be my omega," he breathes against the shell of your ear. “How many times are you going to make me remind you? To break you?”

You shiver at his words as the tension builds inside you, and you can't help but snap, your body writhing as you cum around them, soaking them and the already drenched bed even more.

"Fuck… fuck!" You cry out, shaking in their hold. They don’t relent; Jeno pulls your hair away from your shoulder, exposing your skin for him to sink his sharp canines into. A moan escapes your lips as he marks you, claiming you as his own. You submit completely, allowing them to take you. They thrust deep inside you until they're knotting you, filling you with their cum.

You feel your walls pulse and spasm at the feeling of being so full. As the waves of pleasure finally begin to subside, you open your eyes to find Renjun gazing up at you with tear-streaked cheeks, his needy expression heartbreaking yet intoxicating from his spot next to Jaemin.

“I was a good boy for you,” he whines. “I was good and you promised to fuck me.”

You thought you were tired, that sleep would come, but the alpha instinct within you stirs at the sound of the omega's desperate pleas. His scent cuts through the haze in your mind and suddenly your ready to go again.

A low growl escapes your lips, your eyes glowing a threatening red, and Jeno pulls out of you, understanding the signal. You sit up, and Jaemin groans as his cock slips out, slapping messily against his abdomen. Their playtime was over.

“Move,” you command menacingly. Jaemin rolls his eyes but rolls over nonetheless. Both he and Jeno get off the bed and leave the room, and you hear the shower turn on a moment later, confirming your assumption that they’ve gone to wash up.

A hesitant Haechan crawls in front of you, clearly wanting your attention. You hadn't forgotten about him. You wanted more and their scents surround you, flooding your senses like an aphrodisiac.

You grip the front of Renjun's wrinkled shirt, the fabric bunched up where he hadn’t bothered to take it off while he got off to your scent in the sheets. Pulling him into a kiss, you feel his soft lips part passively against yours, and his easy submission is like a breath of fresh air. Your tongue ventures into the warm cavern of his mouth, and you don’t shy away from the filthiness of it all as his saliva drips down your face during the heated make-out.

Haechan whines beside you, breaking the moment, and you pull away from Renjun, letting go of his collar and allowing him to fall back against the mattress. When your eyes lock with Haechan’s, you notice his impatience. He scoots closer, leaning in, but before he can make contact, you grab his face and gently squeeze. The air thickens, charged with desire and the thrill of control.

“You promised I would be in charge,” Haechan pouts.

Without a word, you shove him down onto the mattress and straddle his hips, sitting snugly against him. You can feel his hard cock nestled between your legs, and he just lays there, staring up at you with eagerness and anticipation.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “If you want it, I’m not stopping you. if you want control, you have to dominate,” you say with a casual shrug, letting your challenge hang in the air.

Renjun sits up on his knees, waiting like a good boy for your next command. You cast a quick glance at him before pulling him in for a kiss, your mouths melding together as he responds to your lead. In the meantime, you roll your hips down on Haechan, the friction eliciting a moan from him as he throws his head back, surrendering to the pleasure. You grind roughly against him.

You pull back from the kiss, gripping Renjun’s chin and forcing him to look down at Haechan alongside you. “Come on, alpha, you just gonna take it?" You ask. "Hmmm, what do you think, Renjun? Does he look like an alpha right now?” Your voice drips with teasing authority as you roll your hips torturously slow, making sure Haechan feels every movement. You can feel his cock throbbing beneath you as he bites his lip, trying to hold back the moans that threaten to escape.

Haechan lies there, looking so pretty under you, eyes shining with defiance yet his body betraying him as he rolls his hips up into yours, craving more. “He looks pathetic,” Renjun states, echoing Haechan’s previous words back at him.

“I agree,” you reply, a smirk tugging at your lips.

You raise off of him, and the whine that escapes Haechan’s lips is desperate. His arms reach out instinctively, trying to pull you back down, to maintain the connection between your bodies, but you growl softly, reminding him of his place.

You swiftly lift yourself off him, focusing on stripping Renjun of his clothes as Haechan whines at the loss of attention, frustration evident on his face.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m a stupid omega and i promise I’ll be good. I’ll take whatever you give me, just please touch me. I can’t take it. Fuck me… alpha.” Haechan babbles, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks as he pleads for your mercy.

Your gaze darkens with desire at his words, and you feel the thrill of power pulsing through you, knowing just how to toy with both of them.

“Be quiet. Its too late now you have to wait your turn,” you tell Haechan firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument. You turn your attention back to Renjun, who’s lying on his back so prettily for you, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Fucking is a reward, but you haven’t been good,” you murmur to Haechan as you climb on top of Renjun. You press his thick cock against your entrance. With a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him, a gasp escaping your lips as he fills you completely.

The sight makes Haechan whine even louder than before; he’s gripping the sheets tightly, his knuckles white as he tries to will himself to behave and listen to your commands. You can feel the tension in the room—the way his eyes flicker between you and Renjun, filled with a mix of need and frustration.

As you settle fully onto Renjun, you take a moment to savor the feeling, your walls gripping him tightly. “See how good he feels?” you taunt Haechan, knowing he’s struggling to stay in control. “This is what happens when you misbehave.”

You ride Renjun hard, the bed creaking beneath you as you bounce up and down, each thrust making his body jolt in response. His hands are tangled tightly in the sheets, keeping his resolve not to touch you without your permission. With a smirk, you grab his hands and place them on your chest, watching as he sucks in a sharp breath, moaning softly as he starts to play with your breasts.

“Fuck… alpha. I’m gonna cum,” Renjun moans, his voice filled with desperation.

You sink down on him and swivel your hips, eliciting an instinctive jerk from his own as he thrusts weakly. It’s not long before you feel him spilling inside you. You’re close, too—much closer than you ever anticipated. Waves of pleasure wash over you for the second time that night.

You’re not sure if its the rut or your new alpha senses but you feel your orgasm like never before. Your high was like a drug. You can’t help but think back to Jeno’s rut and how he would take you again and again. You understood; the feeling was addicting. Your clench hard around Renjun, ensuring not a single drop spills out. His chest heaves above you, hair disheveled and skin glistening. You can sense the heat ebbing from him as he begins to come down from the high, his senses returning to him.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, alpha,” Renjun replies, his voice softer now, tinged with the afterglow of pleasure. He leans in and kisses you softly, lingering for just a moment before you roll off him.

He finds his clothes scattered around the room. Renjun glances back one last time, a shy smile on his face, before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone with Haechan.

“Now,” you command, turning your gaze to Haechan. “Come here.”

You lay back in the sheets, spreading your legs invitingly for him. Haechan hesitates for a moment, uncertainty crossing his face as he assesses your intentions. But eventually, he scoots over, settling between your legs, his body taut with anticipation. You remain still, your breathing steady as you wait for him to make the next move.

Haechan kneels there, almost as if he’s waiting for a command to act.

“Oh come on, alpha, I shouldn’t have to tell you to fuck me,” you tease.

Your words shake him from his daze. He pulls off his clothes hurriedly, revealing his toned body, and leans over you, guiding himself inside with a slow, measured thrust. Once he’s fully buried within you, Haechan hangs his head, struggling to regain control over his breathing. “You feel—you feel so fucking good,” he admits, his voice a blend of awe and raw need.

Yet his movements lack the drive you crave, his hips thrusting into you hesitantly while his hands explore your body with shyness, as if he’s afraid to take what he desperately desires.

“Is that all you got, alpha?” you challenge him, a smirk playing on your lips as you watch him.

Haechan looks up at you, his big brown eyes wide and doe-like. He seems caught, like a deer staring into headlights. He had no idea how to fuck you.

“Come on, Haechan,” you encourage, your tone shifting to something commanding. “Show me what you can do.”

“Please. I can’t take this anymore.” he pleads. No matter how much he desired to embody an alpha, he couldn’t escape the truth of what he was—he was an omega.

Not a second later, you flip him over and pin his hands above his head, pressing them firmly into the mattress as a warning to keep them there. Haechan looks up at you, fire igniting in his eyes, filled with a hunger to be devoured that starkly contrasts the helplessness he displayed just moments before.

In that moment, you understand him completely. He may talk a big game, but deep down, he relishes being manhandled and forced to submit. He’s a brat—a stupid, stubborn omega brat.

“Don’t move,” you instruct, your voice steady and commanding. “Be a good boy for me.”

You settle back on his thighs, feeling his body tense beneath you, then reach forward, wrapping your hand around his length. You squeeze tightly, eliciting a whine from him as he throws his head back in pleasure.

“You disappointed me, baby,” you say, shaking your head at him, a hint of playful mischief in your tone. “I shouldn’t give you anything after that sorry display of trying to be an alpha, should I?”

Haechan looks close to tears, hiccuping as he speaks, “No, I don’t. I don’t deserve anything, alpha.”

“You don’t, what a smart pup,” you reply, caressing his face gently before running your fingers through his hair. “So you’re going to be happy with whatever I give you, isn’t that right?”

He nods his head.

“You’re going to fuck my fist, and I’m going to watch you. You’re not going to cum unless I tell you to,” you say with a teasing smile.

Haechan’s eyes flutter shut, a deep, shuddering breath escaping him as he accepts your command. “Yes, alpha.”

His hips begin to thrust up repeatedly into your inviting grip, responding eagerly to your touch as you tighten and loosen your hold teasingly. You revel in the way his face contorts with desire as he chases his release. He thrusts harder now, his hips slapping against your balled fist as you stroke him with fluid motions.

“That’s good, baby, keep doing that,” you encourage, your voice low and sultry

You lean down and stick out your tongue, not taking him into your mouth, but letting his tip brush against your soft, wet muscle with each upward thrust. Haechan groans, the sound sending a thrill through you. Again and again, your tongue glides over him with tantalizing precision, teasing him until his thighs begin to shake with the effort.

“I’m gonna cum, please let me cum,” he begs, urgency lacing his voice.

You place a soft kiss on his tip and nod, granting him permission, and in an instant, he’s spilling over your fist, his release warm.

“You did so good,” you praise.

Finally, you release him and sit up, allowing yourself a moment to take in the chaotic state of your room. Clothes are strewn across the floor, the chain that had once held you lies broken into pieces against the headboard, and the sheets are soaked in a mix of fluids. Your eyes fall to Haechan, who remains sprawled beneath you, his chest heaving as he gathers himself after being left trembling in the aftermath of ecstasy.

You wipe your hand on the soiled sheets and get out of the bed, heading to the bathroom where you find Renjun using your shampoo to wash his hair.

“You should have waited for me; I would have done that for you,” you tease, grabbing a spare towel and wetting it.

He shrugs, a playful smile on his lips. “I didn’t know how long you would be.”

“Are you still feeling the effects of your heat?” you ask, genuine curiosity lacing your tone. Even after the releases you had, a soft pull in your stomach lingers, craving more despite the satisfaction you’d just had.

Renjun rinses his hair under the shower, the water cascading down his body. “It really comes in waves. I’m fine now, but who knows how long until I'll need to take a suppressant,” he responds.

You step closer, a sultry smile forming as you lean against the door frame. “Or we could help each other,” you purr

He smiles with his eyes closed as he rinses the shampoo from his hair. “Of course, Alpha,” he says. You love the new title and the way the word rolls off his tongue ignites something primal inside you, stirring the urge to pounce on him right there. But you force yourself to step back, knowing you need to return to Haechan.

You leave the bathroom before you can act on that impulse, heading back to your room. Haechan is still lying on the bed, and you carefully wipe him down with a damp cloth, easing into the task with tenderness. Just then, Jeno and Jaemin enter with extra sheets, and you appreciate their timing as they start to change the soiled linens while you rummage through your clothes for something comfortable for him to wear.

Once everything is settled, Renjun makes his way back into the room, a knowing glint in his eyes. The bed, large as it is, quickly becomes a tangle of limbs and warmth as you all settle down together. Your heart races at the closeness, bodies pressed together, and you can feel the comforting pulse of their heartbeats against you.

You’re not worried when you feel the heat of your rut creeping back into your veins. You know they could handle you, could take whatever you had to give, just as you could handle their needs.

Tonight would be a long night.

[quasi-normalcy]

Every "Nu Trek" (2017- ) Series Ranked from Worst to Best:

Very Short Treks (2023): There's really no words for just how terrible this series is. I mean, I know that it only barely counts because it's explicitly not canon and has a total combined run time of about 15 minutes, but *my god* is it bad! Only one of its episodes is remotely funny, and even that manages to feel like it's driven its main joke into the ground by the end of its 2-minute runtime. The only thing that I can say for it is that is that it gives me an easy, uncontroversial choice for worst Star Trek series, not only of the last 7 years, but of all time.

Picard (2020-2023): Listen; I know that this series is unpopular with the Tumblr Trek fandom, but it actually breaks my heart to have to put it so low on the list. It has, in my own opinion, the best dramatic acting of any Trek series and among the best directing, and almost every individual scene, in isolation, is compellingly watchable. More than that, it has fascinating worldbuilding choices, you can really *see* the passion of the writers for what they're creating (at least in the first and third seasons), and Agnes in particular is among my favourite characters in anything ever. It's got a lot of great moments, too! Picard and Seven bonding over shared Borg trauma; Soji uncovering the truth of her identity; Jurati hacking the Borg Queen's brain; Picard's final farewell to Q; Shaw's Wolf 359 monologue; Geordi's reunion with Data...I could go on. And yet, it just feels like so much *less* than the sum of its parts! Incredible ideas are introduced and then just shrugged off to pursue much more boring ones. Story arcs feel pointless if not actively offensive. Absolutely baffling writing choices are made throughout, with no indication as to why. And the nostalgia baiting , particularly in the final season, becomes so intense that it just chokes the plot to death. One comes away haunted by the feeling that this series should be so much better than it is.

Discovery (2017-2024): Really, this is two separate series: a twisty, grimdark, sci-fi war drama and a gentle queer coffeeshop AU about scientists who talk about their feelings. Both of them have their moments, but they each fall down in the same way: a focus on epic, high-stakes mystery box storytelling that undermines one's ability to really get invested in the characters, or even know who they are when they aren't off saving the universe. Without that, while I liked many of the characters and loved seeing them science the shit out of things using teamwork and the power of math, it's kind of difficult to get invested in this series one way or another. In spite of its absolutely gorgeous visuals, it comes off feeling weirdly...flat.

Short Treks (2018-2020): Not a lot to talk about here; just kind of an anthology series of short films adjacent to Discovery, Picard, and Strange New Worlds. Mostly they're varying shades of mediocre, but a few of them are as brilliant as any episode of Star Trek ever made, so the series gets to be relatively high on the list.

Strange New Worlds (2022- ): This is the first entry on this list that, in my opinion, belongs on the top shelf with some of the best of the older series. And it achieves it basically by adopting the same formula as the original series or the next generation--socially conscious planet-of-the-week adventures with enough wit, cleverness and joie-de-vivre to keep it interesting. I remember in 2017, there was plenty of discussion of how it's possible to update Star Trek's formula for prestige television; how funny that the solution turned out to be "don't change it at all, just give it modern special effects and actual character arcs." That said, the series is a bit *too* beholden to the original, with focus primarily on a bunch of characters who aren't allowed to grow or change too much because we already know how they'll turn out. It would be even better if it were about a new ship and a new crew full of nobodies who we can come to love. Which brings us to...

Lower Decks (2020-2024): Above, I said that Picard felt like it should have been so much better than it was. Lower Decks, frankly, should have been so much worse. How is an adult animated sitcom with Rick and Morty style animation and constant memberberries this freaking good!?! Every episode is a master class in efficient storytelling, with 22 minute runtimes often feeling like they contain as much story and character work as episodes twice as long. And the characters are incredible--like TOS and TNG, they feel almost archetypal, and even though you've never seen them before, they slide so seamlessly into the Star Trek universe that it's hard to believe that they weren't just *always* there; that there was ever a time when you could imagine the Star Trek universe without just intrinsically knowing that Tendi and Shaxs and Mariner were off somewhere in the background. It's greatest success though, the reason why it's comedy works when it really shouldn't, is that it's only *slightly* sillier than the serious series. What we end up with a fantastic series with an ethos that is pure Star Trek, and in fact, if I had written this list a month ago, it would certainly be in the #1 spot. However...

Prodigy (2021-2024?): The first season of Prodigy is...charming. It's got some fun characters, some spectacular visuals, some interesting premises. And if the plots tend to be a little too simplistic to be engaging to an adult, hey, it's a kids' show. It's good. Solid. Above average. And if I had only the first season to go on, it would probably be in third position on this list. But then, a few weeks ago, it went ahead and dropped the best season of Star Trek in a quarter-century, and I really...I just cannot recommend this series highly enough. The sheer, ambitious scope of the narrative; the arcs it puts its character through; the cleverness of the writing; the fricking GORGEOUSNESS of it! And it does all this while redeeming deeply unpopular characters and plot points from other series, in a way that never feels forced or pandering. Not only is it the best Star Trek series of the 21st century, it's one of the best children's animated series since AtLA. Go. Go! Watch it! Watch it now!

[sugar-grigri]

It's all about the number 2 

Asa and Yoru, Nayuta and Denji, two Chainsaw Man, two camps of worshippers versus detractors, two protagonists, a second part, the two identities of Denji, a high-school student and a hero himself, both demon and human: Chainsaw - Man. 

But before we balance all that, let's take a closer look at this chapter.

First of all, I'd like to say how rich chapter 140 is. I see a lot of people criticizing Fujimoto's writing as someone who simply sets up absurd situations when absolutely nothing is left to chance. We're reading a manga by a film buff, so get your head around Chekov's rifle. 

I'd like to remind you that Chainsaw Man is set in Japanese society. 

Ejecting a sect from a building, or even belonging to a cult that has nothing to do with a dominant, ancestral religion, is more common than in the West. 

I've seen plenty of people wondering who could be at the head of the church for making people believe such a stupid story as a violet-ray weapon that would make adults stupid.

When it's the other way around, the church is exploiting the fact that high-school students are just thinking too much. And if there's one thing that saves Denji, it's that he thinks less. 

Let's put things in context: this is the '90s, and even if the idea of nuclear weapons has been erased by Pochita, meaning that the Cold War has surely taken a different form in Chainsaw Man, Fujimoto has never denied geopolitical tensions. 

Whether it's the mention of the USSR with Reze, Makima's instrumentalization of Japan, the history of weapons, the fact that the American government sought to eliminate Makima or that countries share the remains of the weapon demon...

Countries are in tension. The church exploits this atmosphere of anxiety among teenagers who are beginning to form opinions that dissent from their parents. 

Adolescence means coming into conflict with your parents' ideas, so come up with a story about how a gun makes them stupid. It's simply targeted manipulation that exploits the vulnerabilities of individuals in the midst of an identity crisis. 

Becoming a teenager also means freeing oneself from a certain carefree attitude and better understanding of the world around us, hence the mention of Americans on the same level as adults. 

I'd like to point out that this is not just a collection of absurdities. But for that, a bit of history... I hope I'm not teaching anyone that Japanese society has been turned upside down by the United States.

Without going into too much detail, during the 19th century, Japan went through the Meiji era. The Meiji government pursued a policy of modernization with the ultimate aim of bringing Japan up to the level of the Western powers. 

To compete with Western powers such as the United States, the government relied on centralized power to control citizens as much as possible... and this involved reforming the matrimonial system. With the popularization of "love marriage", the Meiji government changed tactics: the polygamous system was replaced by exclusive "love marriage". 

The church used the same method of control as the Meiji government: reforming the matrimonial system by overturning institutions. From now on, it's no longer sex after marriage, but before it.

It's this kind of talk that just digs into the cracks that allows them to be brainwashed. But talk has never worked with Denji, who thinks concretely with what he can grasp. A date with a pretty girl, steak, sex, feeling the buttocks when he does the chair. What one would point to as perversity is what saves Denji. He thinks through his senses, his literal needs, not the abstract. 

We can't say that Miri, who thinks he's free when he's being instrumentalized, repeating that it's the Americans' fault again, or asking Chainsaw Man if he's sure he hasn't picked up any ultraviolet weapons... that he’s stupid. Because weapons have lost their memory, they have no loved ones, no stories to refer to. 

Miri convinces himself he's free, filling the void of his own forgotten history with false stories. The lack of education, of pillars, of history is what had tortured Denji, who was so easily manipulated. I'd go so far as to say that Reze is the most striking example of this. 

It's impossible to determine Barem's psychology, but he still demonstrates a third reaction to manipulation: while Denji evolves, Miri locks himself in denial : Barem manipulates in return. Revenge, reproductive mechanism, any number of reasons could explain why Barem exploits one of Denji's weaknesses: Asa. 

Now you're thinking, yes, that's all very well, you talk a lot... but what's that got to do with the number two?

The scale is the very image of dichotomy, of a relationship between two forces, two weights, two entities. And what does it have to do with manipulation? Several things.

First of all, manipulation also means taking on ideas that are not our own. It means no longer questioning them, confronting them with dissident ideas that would contradict them, or balancing them. 

To balance is also to confront two options in a dilemma. Something that's come up several times, first initiated by Yoshida, then taken up in his own way by Barem: embrace his identity as Chainsaw Man or continue his normal life as Denji?

The manipulation since the start of Part 2 has been to split up Chainsaw Man. To have separated what constitutes his essence: human and demonic. To have split his nature, which has always been that of two beings in one. 

And what if I told you that the answer lies in chapter 2 (yes, man). Here, Makima clearly explains to Denji that Pochita is not dead but continues to live with him, that he has two smells.

Fami's project is openly to separate Chainsaw Man, to cut its essence in two: the reunion of two beings. 

That's why this chapter talks about marriage, which refers to the reunion of two individuals. 

Barem would have us believe that these two choices are antinomic, that they are contradictory and cannot be fulfilled together. Only Denji can have both choices, he had already answered that. His sign of strength is two fingers. Two is Denji's strength. Becoming two is what literally allowed him to be reborn. 

Of course, Denji doesn't want to marry; he's already one with one being through a contract: Pochita. 

Pochita had merged with him so that he could live a normal life. It was never a normal life, but the life Denji wanted to live. Chainsaw Man is literally the means, a better life, the end. 

The secret to surviving the manipulation then lies literally in Denji's heart. 

[casscainmainly]

Race and Perception in Batgirl (2000)

This is a companion piece to my two gender posts on Batgirl (2000). There are many interesting takes on race and Cassandra Cain, but most focus on whether she is a 'racist' character or not. This post is not about that, though I think my stance is fairly clear given what my blog is about. Rather than retreading the same ground of whether the conception of Cass is racist (something I might tackle later, because some arguments are flat-out wrong), I want to look at how race actually plays out in Batgirl (2000).

This post focuses on how Cass' Asian identity influences her views on perception, beauty, and agency. As usual, feel free to disagree as I'm not an ethnic or Asian studies expert.

Mask of the Batgirl

We all know and love Cass' iconic Batgirl costume. Besides its distinctive total-blackness, the most interesting aspect is the full-face mask. She is the only Batgirl to cover her face completely - when Stephanie takes over, one of the first things she does is rip the bottom half off.

Skin and external perceptions don't mean the same things to Barbara and Steph as they do to Cass. Cass' entire life is fraught with not just the male gaze, but the White male gaze - her father, David Cain, films her on video tapes, and Bruce later views these tapes (importantly, Cass herself does not get to). These tapes symbolise how her appearance does not belong to herself, but to external White perceptions.

In issue #1, Batman says the following:

"You... are me." Here, Bruce posits that the full-face mask makes Cass more like Bruce. It functions to hide their racial and gendered differences. By covering her face completely, Bruce (and Cass) tacitly suppress her race. Once again, White men are controlling the way she is perceived, something that began with David Cain and continues with Bruce.

Interiority and Exteriority

A common Asian stereotype is that Asians are mechanical - they have no interiority. The common conceptions of Asians as STEM majors and being emotion-deficient all come from this core belief, that Asians are utilities for White people. For Cass, this belief manifests from Babs, Bruce, and David Cain:

Babs says it's hard to care without knowing what's "going on in her head." She cannot connect with Cass' exterior, and finds it hard to imagine what her interior is like. Even worse, Bruce and Cain both argue that Cass belongs to/is like them, almost treating her as property- they reject Cass' own interiority and project theirs onto her, using her as a tool to extend their own identities.

In the early issues, Cass doesn't have an internal monologue. This somewhat reinforces what Babs, Bruce, and Cain all believe about her interiority. However, in issue #5 a White man gifts her the ability to think in language:

This plot point serves to demonstrate Cass' interiority to the reader, but it is another example of a White person choosing for Cass. She didn't get a choice to be raised without language, and she doesn't make the decision to receive it. Both externally and internally, White people control her narrative.

The Shiva Solution

After her newfound language skills impact her ability to fight, Cass encounters Lady Shiva, her future surprise mother. Shiva is the first one to ever acknowledge Cass' race.

Unlike Cain or Bruce, Shiva doesn't say 'you're like me'; she says, "we're a lot alike." She doesn't map herself onto Cass, but finds something they both have in common. By naming Cass' race ("in terms of our coloring") and framing their similarities in this way, Shiva affirms Cass' difference from White people, while providing an alternative solace: Asian solidarity.

Shiva gives Cass her first real choice. It's not exactly a good choice, and it's somewhat coloured by White perceptions (the idea of 'perfection'), but it's still the first major thing Cass gets to decide for herself. She even frames Shiva's path as opposing "Batman's method;" it's the beginning of her path away from White control, towards racialised agency.

It's no surprise, then, that Shiva is the one that helps Cass over her death wish. Not Bruce, not Babs, but Shiva - a literal and metaphorical link to her heritage.

Another Stephanie Brown Segment

As an integral part of Cass' sexual and gendered awakening, Stephanie of course plays a role in Cass' understanding of race. Moving from Puckett's run into issue #38, Stephanie and Cass have this iconic conversation on the rooftop:

I've written before about how this marks the beginning of Cass' foray into gender and sexuality, but this scene has a different meaning when viewed from a race angle. Stephanie is the quintessential American girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes; additionally, she's sexually and romantically experienced. Cass' own Asian appearance, then, may be causally linked to her lack of experience.

When Stephanie comes back as Robin, we have this moment:

Cass is unable to be perceived as non-threatening, helpful, or friendly, while Steph achieves all this with ease. Beyond the differences in temperament (Cass is definitely the spooky scary type), it's also the difference in costuming - Robin's bright colours and majority-unmasked face make for a friendlier appearance than Batgirl. Once again, Cass is unable to control other people's perceptions of her.

It's notable that the majority of Steph's appearances throughout Batgirl end with her leaving Cass on a rooftop. This happens in issues #38, #53, #54, and of course War Games. Their relationship is consistently tenuous, and I think this contributes to Cass feeling like she'll never belong in Steph's world.

Tai'Darshan Turns the Tide

At this point Cass is in pretty bad straits: no one has ever shown romantic attraction to her, Steph is mad at her, and she still doesn't have a full understanding of her race (bar Shiva, she's encountered no other Asians). This feeling of disenfranchisement from both the White and Asian worlds is a very common experience among third culture Asian kids, particularly mixed-race Asians.

Then comes Tai'Darshan, the second major Asian person Cass interacts with.

He is the first person to show romantic interest in her, and asks to "see [her] face." He wants to see her interiority and her skin - Cass' Asian features are now described as something attractive, something worth seeing.

Where Cass is creeped out by Conner's gaze on the boat, she's not similarly affected by Tai'Darshan. She's beginning to understand racialised dynamics, and finding comfort within other Asians rather than her majority-White friends and family.

Both during the fight with Tai'Darshan and the later fight with Bruce, Cass wears these eye-cut-out masks. The eyes are both the site of perception and the site of Asian racialisation, as the most identifiably 'Asian' part of people's faces. By wearing these kind of masks, she's allowing others to perceive her race, reclaiming racialised perception as an act of choice rather than something imposed onto her.

Choosing

In the final arc of Batgirl (2000), Cass sets out to find Shiva. The decision is spurred by this conversation, where Brenda explicitly asks about Cass' race. Everything has been building up to this acknowledgment of Cass' fuzzy origins, a recognition that the uncertainty around her race impacts her ability to achieve full self-actualisation.

Cass rejects Batman's help on the matter, instead going to Onyx:

By going with Onyx, a Black woman, instead of Bruce, Cass is starting on her journey towards racial solidarity beyond Asian communities.

The abrupt ending to Batgirl (2000) kinda cuts off any definitive arc, but I actually think what we have already paints a solid picture. There definitely is a lot more room for explorations into Chinese culture (Spirit World kinda covers this), Cass' relationship to White proximity, interactions with other Asian characters and more. I think her Asian identity deserves more of a spotlight, and I'm hoping more comics in the future delve into it.

[youremyheaven]

Krittika: The Tarzan Complex & Survival Strategies

TW: murder, rape, genocide, euthanasia, death, violence, misogyny

This is part 2 of my ongoing Krittika series. This research was commissioned by the wonderful, angelic and patient, @rscelestia-blog . Being commissioned to do nakshatra research by you guys makes me feel like I'm a renaissance artist and you guys are my Medici family ✨🥺🫶💛 I'm so grateful for it.

For this post, I wanted to look into how this nakshatra often manifests in men. Whenever I talk about how naks manifest irl, I am talking about a tendency not a rule. Astrology is not a perfect science and it is very much possible that someone could have these placements and not behave this way. Also there are hundreds of different tendencies for each nak, since every astrologer is a mere human being with limited knowledge, what they derive from their studies is perhaps only a handful of such possibilities. Therefore every nakshatra has vast room for interpretation.

All that said, I have often thought that Krittika men were a bit unrefined and mannerless for a long time. I think this broadly applies to Solar men in general because they're a "guy's guy". However, this observation was further cemented by an ask that I received a long time ago where an anon pointed out how many actors who have played Tarzan or Tarzan like characters have Krittika nakshatra.

I will be making a separate post about the 'feral child' trope and how its most acutely manifest in a different planetary type but for this post I want to focus on the 'uncivilized' nature of Krittika/Solar men.

I had mentioned in my previous Krittika post about how since Krittika nak follows Bharani where creation takes place, Krittika is about survival.

In fact, the theory of 'survival of the fittest' was put forward by another Solar man aka Charles Darwin, Uttarashadha Moon

The term was originally coined by Herbert Spencer, Ketu in Uttaraphalguni after reading Origin of the Species

 Alfred Russel Wallace, whose own theory about the mechanics of evolution was almost identical to Darwin's, had a Solar stellium (Mercury & Venus in Uttarashadha and Jupiter in Krittika)

In Nazi Germany, they appropriated Darwin's "survival of the fittest" to eradicate anybody who wasn't Aryan or 'fit'. One of the key proponents of the same was an officer named Alfred Rosenberg, Uttarashadha Sun who was hanged to death after the war. He helped advance involuntary euthanasia to eliminate mentally ill and disabled individuals.

Now, lets go into Tarzan.

Tarzan is from an aristocratic British family and after losing his parents, he is adopted by the leader of the ape tribe, among whom he is raised. He later experiences civilization, rejects it and returns to the wild.

Many actors who have played Tarzan have either Solar influence or Venusian influence. In the 2 dozen actors who have played this character, the majority are Venusian tbh but I'll explore that more on a separate post about Venusian men. I think its interesting how different aspects of this character fit these two planetary types.

Here are some men who have played Tarzan

Johnny Weissmuller, Mercury and Venus in Krittika

He played Tarzan in 12 films and Jungle Jim in another dozen films and its TV adaptations as well.

Bruce Bennett, Krittika Sun (unrelated but i find this pic so funny lmao)

Tony Goldwyn- Krittika Sun and Venus (atmakaraka)

He voiced Tarzan in the 90s film

Tarzan has always been played by other Solar natives like:

Wolf Larson- Uttaraphalguni Moon

Alexander Skarsgaard- Uttaraphalguni Stellium

Now when we think of Tarzan, what do we most associate with him? He is a man who was raised in the jungle by apes since he was a baby, so he is "uncivilized" and by most standards "lacking manners", he is wild, messy, uncouth, improper and defies all kinds of social norms. We usually associate "mannerlessness" with belonging to perhaps a lower class in society but here is where Krittika and Solar men surprise us. They behave this way despite all that they have. They could be from immensely privileged backgrounds and still act like jungle freaks.

They lack social charisma, grace or "politeness". Tarzan is very independent because he was raised in the jungle where he had to learn how to fend for himself. Similarly, Solar individuals also tend to be very socially independent which means they're often not the best at interacting on a group level. In order to be sociable, you have to emotionally connect with others, Tarzan's early life is not something anybody else can connect to, even if he adopts a more "civilized" behaviour, he's still going to stand out because of how he's lived his life. Even if they're welcomed into and accepted by society, Solar individuals struggle to relate to and emotionally connect to them.

Sun naks are generally known for being a bit emotion-less but in Krittika this manifests in a very "each for himself/herself" mentality that ISNT self-serving. I would say Krittika natives are the least selfish and most service oriented of all the 3 Sun nakshatras. They know that its a dog eat dog world, so they almost have a tendency to be the one who does all the brunt work so that their loved ones can be spared of it?

I'll mention some examples of "mannerless" Krittika men now:

Howard Stern, Uttarashada Sun Krittika Rising

This guy straight up is so RUDE and crass and vulgar with ALL of his guests????

Here is him talking to Matthew McConaughey about his father dying and Matt is no better in this clip either but like wtf?? who talks like that???

Lowkey Solar individuals LOVE to gossip and start shit between people.

Here is a compilation of him being creepy and disgusting to women on his show.

Dana Plato, the actress, committed suicide a day after appearing on his show in 1999. The humiliation she endured is said to have been her breaking point. Her son committed suicide on the 11th anniversary of her death.

When I tell you Solar men are emotionally abusive, either by being avoidant and ignoring you or by being condescending, patronising, openly mocking you and treating you like shit, BELIEVE ME.

Jordan Peterson- Krittika Rising

I dont know if I need to explain why Jordan is a mannerless misogynistic asshole.

Here are some remarks made by Kate Manne, a feminist expert, who critiqued Jordan's work:

"There’s an interesting moment in the book where Peterson talks about resentment as a “revelatory” emotion that can mean one of two things. One, you feel it because you’re immature, in which case you just need to buck up. Two, you feel resentment because you really are being oppressed or taken advantage of somehow. Your resentment shows you that something needs to change or that you need to assert yourself in relation to other people.

But there is clearly a third possibility. People often feel resentful because they appear, based on historically entrenched social norms, to be getting a bad bargain, when what’s actually happening is that others are getting a somewhat fairer deal. When you’re accustomed to unjust privilege, equality feels like oppression, as the saying goes." (link to the whole article)

This is such a classic example of the way Solar individuals think. They don't really think in terms of privilege, justice, fairness etc??? They just think you can work hard enough to erase all the other socio-economic-political barriers that make things harder for others?? This is of course until they've had first hand experience of difficulties of this sort lmao but they are naturally not wired to think too much, they're very simple minded, like Tarzan, that's why Sun is the most Yang of energies. Its a very action-goal oriented line of thought. They are almost incapable of thinking in abstract or trying to see things within the context and subtext in which it has occurred.

This is also why they are often very academically gifted. Naturally intelligent people struggle the most in school because their brains are not wired to endure the structure and mechanical system of learning that our education system enforces. Intelligence by definition necessitates that the person possessing it is capable of thinking unconventionally and that means finding the school environment really limiting or restrictive bc schools fr be killing the joy of learning.

Solar individuals thrive within these systems because they seldom, if ever, question the system itself, they just learn their material and write the exam. They do not think "unconventionally" or beyond the binary in any way. They accept what they learn to be true and they are more focused on working within the system to climb its ranks. If this is the system we're in, they want to be THE BEST in it and they will master all of its rules to work with it to beat it??

This is why all Solar naks are at the very top of the caste hierarchy, Krittika is a Brahmin nak whereas Uttaraphalguni & Uttarashadha are both Kshatriya naks

Solar individuals are lowkey one of the least empathetic types. I dont mean this to be harsh but they're not very emotionally intelligent and its really hard for them to read a room or intuitively pick up on how someone's feeling/what's on their mind. You reallyyyy need to spell things out for them. It does not come to them naturally to understand how others think or to put themselves in the shoes of others because for Solar individuals everything is kind of a competition and when its a battle of survival, you dont stop to think how your opponents are feeling? this is not to say that they're in "survival mode",, Solars are too unbothered to be in fight or flight 24/7, its just the Tarzan mindset tbh. If you're an animal in the jungle, the jungle is your home, you understand how it operates, how you must hunt or starve, you know what your odds are, you cant be here feeling too empathetic towards other creatures knowing full well that you have to hunt them down and eat them or otherwise starve yourself to death. Animals are comfortable, secure and chill in their habitat but they also understand the stakes so they're always survival minded? Because it truly is each for his/her own out there.

Mark Wahlberg- Krittika Stellium (Mercury, Venus AK and Saturn)

Wahlberg is an A class asshole. In the 80s he assaulted two elderly Vietnamese men and a group of black children all the while hurling racist abuses at them.

Here is a clip from one of his movies:

I know its a film but this is for real how Solar men view the world. They see everything as a "conquest". (Tarzan mentality)

The simple minded Tarzan mentality is also why in the books and movies, Tarzan is unable to cope with civilization and returns to the jungle. The author said it's because Tarzan saw the world as too corrupt which is perhaps true but it's also because having lived in a jungle where the ruled are pretty simple and standard, being a member of society means adhering to many unspoken ruled and conventions. Solar individuals find it THE hardest to do so and when they're actual being true to themselves, they act like apes of the Howard Stern school.

Salvador Dali, Krittika Stellium (Sun, Mercury & Mars)

To make matters worse, he was UBP Moon (the influence of multiple malefic planets makes one more prone to being an asshole) and I have extensively covered his wrongdoings in my post about Saturnian men

However, for now I want to focus on how Dali was a Nazi sympathizer,

He was also obsessed with Hitler in a perverse way and apparently had homoerotic fantasies of him lmao??

He was once quoted as saying:

"I often dreamed of Hitler as a woman. His flesh, which I had imagined whiter than white, ravished me… There was no reason for me to stop telling one and all that to me Hitler embodied the perfect image of the great masochist who would unleash a world war solely for the pleasure of losing and burying himself beneath the rubble of an empire; the gratuitous action par excellence that should indeed have warranted the admiration of the Surrealists."

He was a big old fascist who also supported the Spanish dictator Franco which made Picasso stop talking to him for the rest of his life.

In 1975, when General Franco executed many people, hundreds and thousands of fascists gathered in support of Franco, chanting his name and making fascists salutes. When the world condemned this appalling act, Dali praised Franco and called him the “greatest hero of Spain.”

George Orwell, a strong critic of the fascist rule in Spain, despised Dali and wrote —

“During the Spanish Civil War, he astutely avoids taking sides and makes a trip to Italy. He feels himself more and more drawn towards the aristocracy, frequents smart salons, finds himself wealthy patrons, and is photographed with the plump Vicomte de Noailles, whom he describes as his ‘Maecenas.’”

Salvador Dali was nicknamed ávida dollars (“eager for dollars”) by his former surrealist friends for selling his consciousness and idealism for money and fame.

Average Solar behaviour

When I talk about Tarzan mentality, I'm referring to how lions dont feel remorse at the thought of killing deers. Its not in their nature to feel remorse. The hierarchy of the eco system is such that lions are predators and its their job to hunt. They are by biological design, carnivores. Its a bit sickening to think of how like animals, who have no choice but to be brutal to survive, Solar individuals often have this ruthless ambition to do absolutely anything to get ahead in life. The world we live in, is a capitalist, patriarchal world and the people who thrive in it are ones who are willing to overlook or dont see the faults in the system at all.

The ones who sit at the very top of the pyramid did not get there by being compassionate angels. 3/4 Brahmin caste naks are "ugra" or violent nakshatras, Krittika is the exception, as it is a "mishra" nakshatra (mishra means "mixed"). The ones at the very top are the most brutal and fierce. There is no other way to get to the top in this world.

Carrie Fisher, Krittika Moon

The singer James Blunt (Shatabhisha stellium) who was besties with Carrie, wrote in his memoir:

“I was closer to Carrie than almost anyone else in the world, except my wife. She told me which girlfriends weren’t suitable, was the first person I told when I met my wife, and we chose engagement rings for her together.

She also knew where every unmarked grave of mine lay and where every guilt stemmed from. She was complicit too. When I arrived home one morning with a love bite on my neck, and my girlfriend of the moment about to arrive, Carrie grabbed her 16-year-old daughter and gave her a love bite as well.

Then Carrie summoned me over, offering her own neck, and told me to give her a love bite. When the girlfriend arrived, we all had love bites.

There was also an issue with drugs. Carrie had long been open about her addiction, but at some point it was obvious enough to be of concern.

I stood many times at the foot of her bed at 3am listening to the laboured breathing of someone sounding close to death on heavy medication. Not long before she died, I asked her to be godmother to my son, telling her that I wanted her to take care of herself so that he might know her when he grew up.

Charlie, her best friend, confronted her more directly and told her she needed to quit drugs, but was ostracised by her as a result. I took a different approach and did them with her, pretending to myself that I would guide her to redemption one day – just not today.

The lies we tell ourselves are the ­hardest to forgive. As a result, her ­daughter Billie blames me in part for her death, and no longer speaks to me. They buried Carrie’s ashes in a giant ceramic Prozac pill. You can see a picture of it on the CD disc of my first album. There are only two of them in the world, and the other one is my most treasured possession.”

Krittika being a "mishra" or mixed nak means that its just as capable of being tender as it is of being destructive. There are only 2 mishra naks. The other one is Vishaka.

Carrie took James in before he had even made his debut and he lived with her and recorded the songs of his first album in her house. They had a long lasting friendship, all of this points to the kind, nurturing, almost maternal nature of Krittika but the other behaviour he mentioned, including the love bite giving lmao?? Krittika is a Solar nak and they wouldnt be who they are if they weren't competitive for no reason lol and ostracizing people who mean well??? Solarcore AF

I assure you trying to give advice to a Solar is pointless because like the Sun, they too are blinded by their own light, they see nothing, they comprehend nothing except their own projections. Plato's allegory of the cave was about Solars, I swear lmao. The truth can be very very obvious to absolutely everybody else but a Solar WILL NOT SEE IT

They embody this meme:

They're very low on emotional intelligence tbh. You could tell a Solar that someone almost murdered you and they'd be like "oh he's not very nice, is he?" 😭😭😭 I think it's also part of their simple minded Tarzan thinking. They take everything at face value and are straightforward to a fault. They just don't know or understand how crooked people can be.

I have Krittika Moon friend who is dating a Hasta Moon man (Solar x Lunar couples 🤧) and he was disgusting to me IN FRONT OF HER and he's been nasty af to many other women we all know and she wasn't his girlfriend at the time. But even after she knew all of this, she went on to date him and now they've been together for over a year lmao 🤮🤢🤮

They do not see the faults with themselves or with people they love. They live in a bubble of delulu and completely believe that all that glitters IS GOLD. They can be soooo naive, its insane. Theyre naive girls in bad bitch packaging.

Solar individuals struggle more than any other type to understand that things are not always black and white and that real life is veryyy complicated because people are complicated. In the jungle, such abstractions do not exist, things are very black and white, you can easily arrive at solutions by thinking in a very binary way. Sun nakshatras are focused on survival and this mentality warps their mindset from perceiving things in a more complex and nuanced way.

I want to emphasize once more that survival mentality is NOT being in flight/fight mode,, its more so about operating from a place of maximum efficiency and cutting out all the unnecessary bullshit. But being in survival mode is not living. We are not animals and there is more to life than just...surviving.. and thriving..

Solar individuals are the type for whom every kind of experience is a status symbol of some sort. Be it being desired, succeeding at school/work, making x amount of money, they dgaf about "enjoying" things, they are absolutely not the "stop to smell the roses" type, they want to be like the people who they envy or look up to, they want all those markers of success. Ask them about their motivations and you'll seldom hear of an emotional one.

They're mostly driven by a need to do well in life just because. We live in a world where money is king, and where certain things are conventional indicators of success and even if they have absolutely no desire for a certain kind of house, or car or brand or relationship, they do not want to be perceived as someone who is incapable of having it???? so they work hard to get it?? They get it for show, basically.

There is a reason why the ONLY nak without a yoni consort is a Solar nakshatra (Uttarashada). The height of Solar energy is such that its truly each for his/her own, no partners whatsoever.

Jack London, Uttarashadha Sun

He wrote books like a The Call of the Wild and numerous other adventure stories which are all about surviving in the wild by yourself lol

Its funny how literally the themes of certain naks and planetary influences are made manifest

 Richard Gadd- Krittika Sun and Venus

He is the star and maker of Baby Reindeer, which, if you really think about it, is a survival story. You have got to ask yourself is someone subject you to brutal stalking of the kind Gadd was subject to, would you spend YEARS of your career performing and reliving it? There could be many reasons why he chose to do so and many have found it highly problematic how a man whose privacy was so brutally invaded for so long would do so little to properly hide the identities of the real people he's talking about (his stalker was found out by netizens and she's been receiving death threats etc).

I feel like it points to the nature of the Sun. They will have the last word always and even when they're losing, they'll drag you down with them. But beyond that, I feel like it points to the ambition and tenacity of Krittika and their sheer will power.

Pitbull, Uttarashadha Sun, Krittika Moon & Rising

His life story is extremely Solar

The "American dream" tbh is a very Yang one and a very Solar one

He was born in USA to immigrant parents.His family has a history of fighting against the Castro regime in Cuba. When he was three, he could recite the works of Cuban national hero and poet José Martí in Spanish. He learned English by watching Sesame Street as a child. His father was largely absent from his childhood; his parents separated when he was young, and he was raised mostly by his mother, later stating: "my mom is my father and my mother." He briefly stayed with a foster family in Roswell, Georgia. His parents struggled with substance abuse; as a teenager, he was also involved with drug use and dealing, which eventually led to him getting kicked out of the family house.

Divorce, war, natural calamities, destruction of any kind is veryyy common for people born under Krittika, Ardra, Uttarashadha, Jyeshta, Ashlesha nakshatras.

Pitbull's parents were separated, they fled Cuba, he was kicked out and was literally left to fend for himself.

He said he chose his stage name of Pitbull because the dogs "bite to lock. The dog is too stupid to lose. And they're outlawed in Dade County. They're basically everything that I am. It's been a constant fight". Literally so Solarcoded??

I'll end this post here, I have more posts to come about Krittika and Solar naks so stay tuned. I hope this was insightful

I am sooooo sorry that I have been soooo slow with my uploads lately,, I just have a lot on my plate atm 😭😭😭I am going to try my best to be more consistent cause I want to finish this series asap as I have several other pending posts to make UGHH

[mintkookiess]

It's you?!

A/N: Craving more 42!Miles screen time. Better yet, I want him to have an entire goddamn film.

Another post from the private vault! hope y'all like this one as much as I did! (｡･･｡)

Love,

Mint

Summary: 42!Miles and his weird ass obsession on finding out Spiderwoman!reader's real identity (and vice versa, but less obsessive LMAO she just curious)

Tags: 42!Miles x Spiderwoman!reader, some cussing, choking (not that kind) enemies -> friends

Word count: 2.3k

The Prowler had a sick grin behind his mask as he stared at the woman standing a few feet away from him. It was almost laughable to him how she could stand for all the heroic shit, even her suit looked downright ridiculous. “You’re a brave one to try to stop me, I’ll give you that.” He laughed with his voice slightly distorted from the voice changer. “But I hate to break it to you ma, I’m going to remind you where you belong, to make you remember your fucking place.”

Though deep down he knew that he always looked forward to their fights and banters. Sure, he’s handled a bunch of big enemies and may have been beaten to a pulp once or twice, but nothing makes him feel more alive than fighting the one and only Spiderwoman. Little does he know that he’s slowly garnering some sort of obsession over finding out who she was. 

He was itching to know what kind of person this woman was who had the actual capabilities of making him excited and thrilled over fighting, something he grew to hate. 

"Yeah, I will. Since my place will always be above you." Y/n replied coolly behind her mask. As Spiderwoman, she is obligated to eradicate all evils in Brooklyn, but this Prowler dude always made it interesting for her. And today was just like their usual encounters. 

Sometimes, she admits that she wants to know who he was beneath all that tacky suit. Like why does he look like fucking Dracula? 

I hate that fucking mask. Miles thought as he scowls down at the hero. All he wanted was to rip the mask off of her head and finally see her face. He couldn't exactly understand his undying obsession with finding out. Like, why her of all heroes?

He growled in frustration with himself, clawed out his hand, and lunged at Y/n, ready to rip her apart. In response to this however, Y/n was quick enough to instantly shoot a web by a nearby building on their right, flinging herself towards it to dodge him. "Is that the best you got pretty boy?" She called out. 

"Pretty boy?" Miles raised an eyebrow behind his mask. He snarled, jumping off the ground to thrust towards her once more, this time using full force to try to pin her against the wall. He does this successfully, picking Y/n up by her throat. "Who are you?" Miles hissed, his claws retracting before digging his metal-covered fingers into her neck more. "Tell me, damn it."

Y/n kept her body calm and tried to maintain proper breathing despite being choked by him. "Spiderwoman, who else would I be?" She choked, her mind trying to find the best way possible to escape from his deadly grasp. 

"That's not what I meant," Miles glared, squeezing even tighter than before. His golden brown eyes slowly became wild in anger, almost as if something's taken over him. 

"Answer me properly, pretty girl," He seethed, his mask glitching slightly. Though he called her "pretty girl", he did so in such a mocking tone.

Miles dropped her to the ground but doesn't waste a second before pinning her against the wall with his arm over her head. With his height, he just easily towers over her.

The sight egged him on, the feeling of having Spider-Woman beneath him like this was exhilarating. 

"Who. Are. You."

"Someone who's... about to kick your goddamn ass." She murmured before her leg flew up to his arm, and with every force she could muster she kicked it down, making him lose balance. 

She shoots another web to the building on the opposite side, keeping a fair distance from the Prowler. "Why do you want to know me so badly?" She called out to him. 

"Because I want to know my enemy,” Miles yelled back, letting out a low growl as he rose to his feet and sped across to her once more. He lands back close to her, glaring at her with a slightly amused look. It's just a game to him after all. A game of cat and mouse and he was definitely not the mouse. 

"I'll stop at nothing until I found out who you are," He gritted through his teeth. "You won't get away that easily ma." 

Y/n only snorted at his words. "Oh yeah? I think I do a pretty great job at doing that pretty boy." She smirked behind her mask before instantly swinging away, leaving him.

But of course, Miles wasn't backing down, quickly chasing after her. "Who the fuck are you?!" He yelled loudly, but she doesn't answer. They both played chase across multiple buildings. Miles was determined not to lose her this time though, picking up his speed until he was practically at the same speed as her. 

This must be his new world record, Uncle Aaron would be damn proud. 

"I won't stop chasing you until I know." Y/n rolled her eyes at how persistent he was being. Miles wants to know who this hero was, and why she drove him insane with obsession, or how she got him looking forward to fighting her. 

"Well for starters, why the hell are you so obsessed with me? Honestly, don't you have better things to do?!" She called out as she continuously swung between buildings by her webs. Least to say though, Y/n was impressed that the Prowler could catch up at all. But then again, when has he ever failed to impress her?

"It's not an obsession," Miles denied, following close behind her. Even Y/n knew that wasn't the truth.

Miles is a villain. He kills. He maims. He hurts whomever he wants. But with her? Something just felt different. She's special, nothing like the rest of them. She has something he can't quite explain. Some sort of magnet that keeps him wanting to see her often? To fight her more than he does with the usual people he dealt with?

"Why do you keep running away ma?" He asked nonchalantly, but Miles knew he was just trying to keep her under his grasp for a bit longer. "You can fight. Why run?"

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Then let's fight pretty boy." She swung back around towards him, landing her foot on his torso, kicking him hard across the concrete before landing flawlessly on the ground. 

Miles grunts loudly and stumbles back, hitting a beaten-up car behind him. He looks up at her, glaring. "That's more like it ma," He leered, the sun creating shadows on his face, making him look even more intimidating.

He grunted as he stood up, getting close to her once again until he was merely inches away from her face. "You must tell me. You can't keep it from me." Miles grunted. His eyes were wild and insane as if he's lost control of... whatever he was feeling towards this Spiderwoman. 

"If I told you who I was, that defeats the entire anonymous persona thing I've got going." Y/n chuckled, placing a hand on her hip. Though she admits, she was also quite eager to know who Prowler was. Oh hell no, just curious.

"Tell me already!" Miles almost yelled, balling his hands into fists. He's getting angrier by the minute. At who exactly? He wasn't sure. Maybe he was mad at her because she was being stubborn, or mad at his behavior and the way he was acting right now.

But Miles doesn't care. He only cares about the fact that he's not getting the information he wants. 

He just wants to know who she was so badly so he could finally get over this achingly overwhelming curiosity.

"Tell me," Miles glowered once more, his voice dark and raspy. "I won't ask again." 

"You're asking me to tell my arch nemesis who I am behind this mask. You do realize how insane you sound right?" Y/n snickered. But suddenly, she was stricken with an idea. She quickly looked around, making sure no one was around them in the abandoned part of Brooklyn.

For once, she wanted to indulge in her curiosities as Spiderwoman. She grinned at him, even though he couldn't see it. "If you show me who you are, I'll show you who I am. Seems only fair right?"

"Fine," Miles grunted, uncurling his fists. He was a bit surprised at how easy it was for him to agree, despite knowing full well he shouldn't show who he was much less to the person who's been hunting him down for months.

"Show me first. Then I'll let you know who I am." His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he meets her stare. "After all, it is only fair ma."

Y/n laughed, nodding in agreement. "Fine, if we're playing fair, then we should just do it together at the same time." 

Prowler let out a harsh breath and nodded. 

"On the count of three,” Y/n said, her finger gripping the edge of her mask. 

"1..."

"2..."

"3...!"

As Y/n pulled out her mask, the Prowler does the same, his Prowler mask moving back to reveal himself as Miles Morales. 

Y/n's hair fell down, her e/c eyes striking with excitement as she stared back into his. Her lips instantly curved into a smile as she sees an all-too-familiar face before her. "You're that student from school!" 

Miles blinked. "What—" He stopped himself mid-sentence as it finally hits him. It's her. It's always been her. 

His eyes flash with shock, pupils widening to the point where his eyes almost appeared black. The woman that he's been obsessing over, was Y/n. Y/n L/n.

Miles would see her often in class and everywhere else on campus. He has never spoken a word to her, but she slightly grabbed his attention because she was the complete opposite of him. That and because she was obnoxiously loud.

He simply knew her as that friendly, too-nice, pure girl. Definitely did not assume that she'd be Spider-Woman.

"You're that quiet dude from physics and math class!" Y/n gushed even further. "I wasn't expecting it to be you but, that makes so much sense with your mysterious aura and vibe, holy shit."

Y/n was internally screaming inside because she did notice Miles Morales from her school. She thought he was crazy attractive with the stoic and cold demeanor he had going on, especially those goddamn braids of his.

And now here she was, finding out that he was in fact, the Prowler whom she's been fighting for months on end. 

"Y/n..." Miles breathed out. As he processed the woman before him, he started to think about how she was beautiful, far more than he could've ever imagined. He barely looks at her at school, but now he's finally got a good look.

Her smile sent unexpected fluttering to his heart and it was difficult for him to look away. He had to snap himself out of it. Y/n isn't just Y/n. She's Spider-Woman. Who knows of his identity.

Miles licked his lips forgetting all of that in a second. His eyes were still wild but now supported by a little glint. A spark perhaps. Somehow, seeing Y/n and realizing she's Spider-Woman made him feel weird. Good weird. But weird. 

"Well, what do you think? Overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? Rate the experience from 1 to 10, be honest." Y/n smirked, her eyebrows raised and arms crossed over her Spider-Woman suit. 

"You fucking weirdo,” Miles smirked. 

"Would you look at that, the infamous Miles Morales actually knows how to smile,” Y/n replied, clearly amused. 

She was definitely not screaming inside. 

"What can I say ma?" He replied with a smirk, "You bring out the best in me." He found himself teasing her. How interesting.

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Ha ha, I wasn't expecting the Prowler to be this cheesy either." 

"I wasn't expecting Spider-Woman to be this beautiful either, so I guess we're both in quite a predicament,” Miles said with a slightly flirty tone. The situation was becoming less tense and more playful between them. 

It was as if Miles had become a different person, being less like the ruthless villain Prowler, and more like himself as Miles Morales. It's a refreshing feeling to him.

"Well thank you, does that mean you've always noticed me from school?" Y/n smiled, placing her hands on her back, and swayed side to side like a child.  

"I noticed you alright.” He chuckled. Miles was still in disbelief with himself since he never showed such emotion to anyone. Ever. But here he was laying himself out to this girl who he barely even knows.

"I thought about talking to you. Usually to tell you to shut up cause you're always so damn loud." He told her. "But then I got too much shit on my mind. You know what it's like as the Prowler."

Y/n simply nodded, "That's fair. I myself am pretty busy cause well... I am Spiderwoman, constantly thinking of how to save the city." She winked. 

"You're busy as Spider-Woman," Miles repeated. "And I'm busy as the Prowler." He grinned at her. "We have that in common, don't we?"

"Except for the fact that we are destined to be enemies." Y/n grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. "But you know, maybe we can be friends."

Her? Being friends with him? What is she even saying... as if he'd actually agree—

Miles cocked an eyebrow. "Friends huh? Maybe we should try it sometime." He grinned, but he stopped himself, almost as if what he said wasn't meant to be said at all. He cleared his throat, "Well, we aren't enemies right now, are we?"

Y/n contemplated for a while, "Hmm... Maybe enemies as Spider-Woman and the Prowler, but we can be friends as Y/n and Miles." She winked, holding out her hand for him to shake. 

Without a second thought, Miles grabbed her hand and shook it firmly. "Deal." He replied with a smirk. "Friends." And he's serious about it too. All they both thought of at the moment was,

Damn, this is going to be one interesting pair.

Fin.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

[qilingxiong]

九龍城寨之圍城 | Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In (2024)

I've rewatched this movie more than once, since seeing it in theatres back in August, and each time was just as good as the first if not better. Given that, I now have many thoughts so I'm subjecting y'all to listening to why you should watch it:

Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In (九龍城寨之圍城 or gau2 lung4 sing4 zaai6 zi1 wai4 sing4) is a martial arts action/crime film directed by Soi Cheang. It is an adaptation of the manhua City of Darkness by Andy Seto, and its source novel of the same name by Yuyi. The film's cast has established Hong Kong names folded in with newer-generation actors, starring Raymond Lam, Louis Koo, Sammo Hung, Richie Jen, Terrance Lau, Philip Ng, German Cheung, and Tony Wu (Aaron Kwok gets a cameo role, too).

At a broad glance, the movie follows several major triads in 1980s Hong Kong and their power struggle to control the Kowloon Walled City (a densely populated urban enclave, which for decades evaded direct governance by either the British colonial or Chinese powers in the area). We're introduced to the KWC and the triads' major players through the eyes of Chan Lok-Kwan (Raymond Lam), a man fleeing Vietnam and attempting to make a life for himself in HK. He winds up seeking refuge in the KWC, and comes to call both the city and the people he meets in it a home worth defending.

The narrative itself is not the most complex, but if you enjoy '80s Hong Kong films in these genres, it's solid fare and a harkening back to that decade. All the major themes like brotherhood (and brotherhood vs blood), vengeance, and struggle with conflicting loyalties are there, alongside an internal search for identity and belonging within Hong Kong. But the highlight in it is that the plot connects feast after feast of utterly stunning fight choreography, made all the more impressive by the fact that, according to Louis Koo, quite a few major cast members had never filmed this kind of action before. All their training was done just for TotW, and oh, does it pay off. I can't make good gifs, so you'll have to watch and see for yourself. It's not action for action's sake, either; listening to the head stunt choreographer discuss how different characters' fighting styles were crafted shows off how fight scenes aren't breaks in the story, they tell the story, and deepen our understanding of the characters.

The setting of the Kowloon Walled City truly makes the action in TotW stand out. It's a unique space to stage all these major fights, as the KWC's buildings at the time were packed together close enough to resemble a singular block from the outside. Once inside, it's a stacked, dark maze of uneven paths, stairs, and rickety roofs, with electrical and television cabling snaking over/around/through everything. Fight scenes in these streets feel thrillingly claustrophobic, with lots of acrobatics and near-dodges as characters navigate these tight alleys of the KWC. Each impact as a character goes flying into a wall, or is launched down a flight of stairs or onto a roof, is wonderfully visceral to watch.

All credit and hopefully awards are due to the production and set design teams for their work, in crafting this environment for the story and its fights. The visual/spatial representation of the KWC is the film's other glorious highlight, alongside the choreography. Whole streets of the KWC were recreated for this, filled with every mundane, period-accurate detail from the lives of ordinary people who would have lived there. It's impossible to catch all the intricacies put into making the KWC come to life again onscreen, just from watching the film. Shots like the credits sequence offer close-ups of harder-to-see details, and videos like a tour of the KWC set by Terrance Lau, acting as his character Shin, show off things from the drinks in the fridge at the corner store to the scribbled writing on the walls by the public taps. This film was designed with a drive to faithfully represent what the Kowloon Walled City had been like, how it looked when it was lived in, and they achieved it to an incredible degree.

That dedication extends to more than just the sets, though. The emotional core of TotW revolves around the KWC's inhabitants, and how they were the ones who made the city what it was, a home for about 35,000 people at a time. The film doesn't treat the KWC as just an eye-catching location to stage some fights; its characters might be fictional and overloaded with jianghu powers, but it goes out of its way to show how ordinary people might have lived, worked, and socialized within the historic city. It shows off why, despite its (not unwarranted) dark reputation, so many chose to live in a place that was once the densest urban center on the planet.

And this brings us to the acting, because the cast all do a very good job bringing their characters to life as the heart of the KWC. Louis Koo is fucking fantastic and arguably the scene stealer of the film as Cyclone, the triad leader in current charge of the KWC. He's grumpy, magnetic, and dangerous when he must be, but he also cares so very, very deeply about the inhabitants within his jurisdiction. Terrance Lau's Shin acts as his charismatic and capable right hand man, as well as protégé to Cyclone, befriending Chan Lok-Kwan and helping him become accustomed to life in the KWC. These two, along with the snarky Twelfth Master (Tony Wu) and the masked + imposing AV (German Cheung) become a quartet with great chemistry and friendship, the next generation to watch over and protect the Kowloon Walled City. Outside the KWC cast, antagonist figures like Sammo Hung, Philip Ng, and Richie Jen's characters are intimidating and compelling as threats to the city, and the lives people have etched out within its walls.

All of these things put together, and Twilight of the Warriors is a deeply fun, enjoyable, and rewatchable film (so good, in fact, that Hong Kong has submitted it as its nomination for the 2025 Oscars). The movie doesn't lose its emotional throughline in the promise of an action-packed ride it fully delivers on, and it uses its narrative, setting, and choreography to pay tribute to an earlier era of Hong Kong, as well as highlight + humanize a piece of the region's history that might not be quite as well known to some.

(The Kowloon Walled City was demolished and its inhabitants relocated in 1993. The area where it once stood is now a park, with some historic buildings preserved. If you're curious about people in the KWC before demolition, City Of Darkness: Life In Kowloon Walled City (1993) by Greg Girard and Ian Lambot is a collection of photographs and first-hand recountings from residents, recording their lives and stories. I'm in the midst of reading it right now.)

If anything I've said has piqued your interest whatsoever, I say to give Twilight of the Warriors a try, if you have a free two hours to spare. Something in it will be worth it for you. And if I've failed to convince you with any of this, or you need one more push, here's the trailer for the film:

And if I did manage to actually get anyone to seek out this movie, please tell me! I'd love to know your thoughts.

[ay0nha]

Venus Rising | Thomas Shelby

SUMMARY: Three moments in which you run into Tommy, the final provoking a deal neither of you are prepared for.

“I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free…I want, I want to think, to be omniscient.” Sylvia Plath (1949)

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader 

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking (tobacco/weed), criticism of time-period misogyny/misogyny in general, canon-typical things, angst again, rich people being annoying, no proof reading, rushed ending, slow burn, etc.

A/N: Oop, another Tommy fic, apparently it’s not quite out of my system. Inspired by the film How to Steal a Million (title is inspired by the original title of the book!) and @huntingingoodwill‘s post (here), ESPECIALLY with the third part of this as it comes from Carmen’s beautiful brain. Inspo is taken from various feminist writing and particularly an Agnes Varda quote. MIGHT do a part two, idk yet.

Comments are VERY encouraged! Enjoy. 

“Thanks for that…” Tommy was finally catching his breath but still searched for your name. He hadn’t seen you in the gathering below and questioned if the room he found himself in belonged to you.

“We’re better off strangers.” You weren’t defensive, nor was your guard up; you were just focused. Fixated. The painting was borderline mesmerizing, and you struggled to tell if it was from the art or how your joint dwindled steadily.

Your isolation was purposeful.

The reception provoked the start of a migraine; its noise bleeding through the thick walls of the stately home only grew more deafening as the evening furthered. To find relief, you wandered the empty halls, the stairs that led to darkness, and every door that seemed particularly off-limits.

It was a simple measure of self-preservation until your seclusion was fractured.

The door opened abruptly, a body sliding through the narrow space to hide in the most prominent shadow. You thought you were caught, but the man held a finger to his lips, expression prepared for the obvious chase.

You were the perfect accomplice.

Those who came looking for him were met with your theatrics, a role well-rehearsed; your eyes never glanced to where Tommy hid in the most prominent shadows; your upset alone secured you hadn’t seen the man with the razor-lined cap; you simply wanted to return to your silence.

“You stick out, you know…” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought was absentminded, your lips tingling with indifference.

“I have an invitation.” Tommy had it forged, making it nearly identical to the one you’d received in the post.

You hummed with amusement. “I mean—you don’t belong.”

Considering how you equated his presence with his class, Tommy considered taking offense. However, your humor exposed no ill intent. You were trying to relate to him. To offer some solace, you offered the joint to him between pinched fingers.

“Let me guess, neither do you.” Tommy accepted your olive branch with a drag.

“Oh, I never will.” Although your smile remained, your tone became distant. You didn’t glance at Tommy until he took another puff. His eyes were ahead, just as yours were, attempting to see what had enraptured you in the painting. “Just like her.”

The face of the young woman depicted was covered, but her body was exposed. You were sure the owner of the canvas only valued the misinterpreted eroticism. Yet, the scene’s voyeuristic purposes were to convey the end of a very long day. You were convinced if you reached out, you could soothe her aching muscles from her obviously laborious job.

The painting's size didn’t speak for its cost. You wanted to laugh at how something so precious was stored on a wall as a forgotten decoration. However, you would do the exact same if it were in your possession. It would hang on your ceiling that way; when you rested your head against your pillow, you could get one final look at it as if it were a mirror, a grounding reminder that there was company in such an empty space.

“You pity the poor.” The statement held a questioning tone. Tommy interpreted the painting and your thoughts literally; a woman relieved of farm work was being judged by you—someone worse than the bourgeois.

“Don’t you see it?” Bitter ecstasy carried your words. You wanted to be heard. “Her and I are the same…”

Tommy returned the joint, realizing its purpose was to aid and calm you from the turmoil you hoped to escape. He felt an odd sense to comfort you but wouldn’t.

Instead, he repaid his earlier debt with unaccustomed humor, “I doubt someone like you shovels shit for a living.”

“Doesn’t matter.” You let the smoke settle in your chest, its warmth comforting. “From inception, we’re indistinguishable, born with an innocence that is only nurtured to be stolen. Our very being is never our own. Once our bodies are pried from our minds, we starve because of it.”

“Ah, I see…” Tommy started, “You’re a modern woman.”

The joint was almost a roach, but you passed it back, ridding yourself of its responsibility. The man beside you was a stranger, and you were thankful for that position. Anything said didn’t matter. It would evaporate and leave no trace. Tommy understood this well, participating in a game he didn’t know the rules of.

“Modernity is irrelevant.” You corrected. Your words sunk into your stomach, weighing you down. “This is beyond time.”

—

“Gave a try shoveling shit, eh?” Tommy crossed his legs, leaning back with an ease you were envious of. A cigarette was rolled along his lips, a habit formed by comfort.

Once lit, the image was complete. It had clicked. “You.”

Thomas Shelby. Your memory of him held a haze, that night's intoxication cherry-picking how you retained the interaction. But your vague image of him was enough to understand his occupation. You were warned against his world, but you could only do so much when your worlds overlapped so bizarrely.

“Me.” He confessed with mitigation. There was a cadence even in his silence. Clearly, he was thinking of how to approach you, but you failed to recognize how he always remained ahead in his business. “You were found near the stables.”

“Apparently, I’m a witch.” You mused. Cheltenham was never dull.

Tommy hummed, entertaining your wit only slightly. “They think you’ve cursed the horses.”

Horses were efficient beasts that were often mistreated, that much you knew. However, they intimidated you into submission. Their role in your life was distant, typically involving a reflection of wealth and nothing more.

You hid behind the stables because you misunderstood the distance you created. It had a false bottom that showed those in your world never enter their stables, allowing others to do the hard work. Those around you wouldn’t dare stain their fine fabrics how you chose to.

Although the air was foul, the stables were the only place you could breathe without the hands of your arranged date finding home where they weren’t welcomed.

You knew the man who caught you was Tommy’s brother. Though they looked different, the air surrounding them was suffocating. They were driven by brutal confidence that manifested physically and for Tommy mentally. The mind game you were presented with was just as predetermined as the races.

“I want us to understand each other.” Ash fell from Tommy’s cigarette in thought. “We do not share the same fantasy.”

“And what fantasy is that?”

“Poor little rich girl—” His words were punctuated. “—thinks she can play gypsy until she hears the dinner bell.”

Your laughter made him flinch. “And what’s for dinner?”

Tommy had vetted you. No one knew anything worthy about you. So everyone simply fantasized about you, spinning tales. Yet, you were an extraordinary nobody—an amazing unknown. Suspicion wasn’t necessary, but there was no need for his growing intrigue.

“That man you came with…” Tommy knew who he was. He was another kid that thought one day he could rule the world. But all he was capable of was poorly executed white-collar crime. “Who is he?”

You shrugged. “To him, I am his girlfriend.”

“And to you?”

“Does that matter?”

Tommy quickly learned that your only form of retaliation was posed through questions. The more philosophical, the more your guard remained. “I've been thinking about what you've said…”

The admission alone was out of character and also misrepresented. Tommy's mind was riddled with your sentiments. It was a thoughtful comment on something broader, something Tommy knew of and was growing to understand. But that wasn’t what preoccupied him.

It was how your poise wasn’t carried through your posture. It was how you expressed yourself indifferently but spoke so sharply. You were a constant contrast that perplexed him, possessed him to look into you, into your life. He planned to search until he found a moment where you put your thoughts to use the way he had.

“You, a suffragette?” Your lip curled at the thought. “Now, that, Mr. Shelby, is a fantasy.”

—

Planning an escape was satisfying but little compared to the follow-through.

The feeling solidified when the silk hem of your dress billowed was the only trail of your escape. You could hear your name echo along the corridor wall, someone sent to find you and force you back into the festivities.

“Where are you going?” The voice was a mix of a whisper and shout, reflecting nothing but urgency. The guests weren’t privy to your behavior, but your absence was clear. You heard your name again.“You must come down! You’re upsetting the guests!”

Although your home, the walls felt like they were shifting, creating a maze to your safety. The click of your heels was like a countdown to being caught. That was until your hand frantically found an antique handle of the most inconspicuous door.

Sliding into the broom closet, darkness invaded your senses.

With its veil, you could make out the sliver of light that fought to illuminate the room from the other side. It tracked the shadow of who chased you, showing you how they inched closer, hoping to hear your rapid breathing. Once enough time was given to their search; the footsteps receded in the wrong direction, their voice calling after you growing faint.

Your relief was borderline euphoric; your body demonstrated success as the tension drained the further you calmed. You sunk toward the door, forehead against the smooth, cool wood.

The sound behind was as quick as the movement. Identifiable and surprising.

The match created friction that illuminated the small space with an orange glow. You moved fast, your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth.

“Cigarette?” Tobacco filled the cramped room, the burning end of the cigarette not quite exposing your companion. But you could feel the amusement at the situation radiate from the corner.

Your stupor made you move with shock. “Christ!”

Your hand shot up to feel around for the light switch above you, yanking on the cord. Awash in light, you took in the sight of the man who was casually nursing a cigarette.

“Mr. Shelby?” You blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“Tommy.”

“What are you—

“I’m a guest.” The cigarette bobbed with his chiding.

“A guest.” You repeated, your tone brimming with doubtful sarcasm. “And what is a guest doing, hiding here, so far away from the party?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He quipped, icy expression holding your own.

“Ah, but I’m not a guest.” You defended yourself, holding up a finger as you corrected him. “This is my family’s party. I am technically a host.”

“Well—” He began, taking a puff of his cigarette, silver smoke spilling from his lips as he spoke. “—not a very good host if you’re hiding up here, eh?”

Your eyebrows cocked as you took him in. His presence meant business. “I don’t seem to remember my father mentioning gangsters would be on the guest list tonight.”

“Why not?” He replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’re good fun at parties.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” You mused. “But I doubt this is your kind of party.” You wished to witness him in action, for him to live up to all the stories you’ve heard about him firsthand. And you could tell he was itching for you to ask. “What have you got planned tonight?”

“If you must know—” Tommy remained externally stoic but revealed himself bluntly. “—I’m here to rob your family blind.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your father has come into quite a bit of money recently,” Tommy said, words calculated and measured. “He’s been stepping on the Blinders’ business. So, I came here tonight to take back what’s ours.”

“How much?” You asked.

“A million dollars.” He sighed, highlighting his statement with a drag of his cigarette.

“That all?” You scoffed.

“You’d hardly miss it,” Tommy explained. “And, with your family’s yearly legendary holiday party going on tonight, I figured I could hide until all the…” He took a second to ponder, searching for the words, “...rich fucks down there were drunk enough. Then, I’d take what’s mine and leave. No one would be any the wiser.”

There was a pause. He wanted you to protest, but he knew you wouldn’t. You were reading him just as well. It quickly became a stalemate, but you had the advantage of toying with him.

“Well, I should fulfill my host duties.” You sighed, tone wrapping up the unorthodox interaction. “Find my father while I’m at it; tell him bookkeepers are infested in our walls.”

“You’re not going back down there.”

Another pause. Your skin crawled with jest. “And why’s that, Mr. Shelby?”

He shook his head casually, eyes boring through yours. “You’re not going back down there because you don’t want to.”

“What?” Your laugh was soft and unexpected. It was hard to determine, but some of you would have rathered a threat. This was almost as entertaining.

“I can tell you don’t want to go down there. So don’t.”

Behind your back, you reached for the doorknob, but as your fingers grazed it, you lost your nerve. You sighed, flexing your fingers.

“Move over.” You instructed, and Tommy listened. He slid closer to the wall as you squeezed beside him, arm against him in a one-sided comfort. “Poor little rich girl opening up to a gangster. Never saw that in the cards.” You plucked the cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag, carefully considering your next words. “It’s never as simple as it seems, really.”

“Sure it is.”

“It really isn’t.” You chuckled, eyes trained on the glowing end of the cigarette.

“Enlighten me.” He replied, taking the cigarette back as you passed it to him.

The emotions you kept bottled up bubbled in your throat. Living in the gilded cage of high society had privilege but was equally emotionally destructive. It felt foreign, the thought of exposing yourself with such vulnerability; you grew nervous at the prospect of having to do so.

“Simplicity is a pipe dream when your life relies on codependency.” Just the thought of it made you dizzy. “It’s better to hide than risk being a blemish to the family.”

Tommy stayed quiet. Then against better judgment, he spoke. “Why not just leave? You’re a clever girl. Surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” You countered without edge; you knew his slight dig was only to lighten things. He said his part out of decency. “Why do you think I was at those stables? If it weren’t for your brother…”

The crackle of your drag filled the new-found silence. You weren’t sure how long you’d stay there nor how long you subject Tommy to your company. It was a moment of brevity you both seemed to need. You hadn’t meant to find him, and his plan had nothing to do with you, but that in itself sparked your idea.

“Hey, Tommy?”

He turned to meet your contact, eyebrows raised, air mixing from the proximity. “Hmm?”

“How’d you like some help with stealing that million?”

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

today's thoughts before passing out: the demon blood plot reading as a metaphoric fear of miscegenation, a result of classic Western tropes told through a Horror framework.

demon blood is a boundary crossing substance, invasive and transformative. Sam violated in the crib functions on one level as a rape metaphor, but its done so through demonic blood coming in to dilute his human blood. the violation then, comes in as a literal theft of identity. his body becomes the literal battleground between two forces - the domestic world of his family vs. the invading, monstrous outsider. Azazel snatches and preys on civilised children from the crib as a means of recruiting them to his tribe army, literally corrupting them on a bodily level, claiming them from their blood families as his own. and the more demon blood Sam drinks, the less 'human' he becomes (the less of his family's blood in him). Dean's anger over Ruby also ties into Sam's sexual relationship with her, of which the blood drinking is a component. the blood drinking is especially transgressive because it echoes deep-rooted settler colonial anxieties, expressed through the language of pop culture - fears over losing one's blood, family, and identity to a savage Other.

(4.04)

(4.21)

what got me started on this line of thinking was a recent rewatch of John Ford's The Searchers (1956), a movie so ingrained in the modern American cultural mythos that nearly every first year cinema studies course makes it required viewing lmao. it's a subversive Western, concerned with exploring the porous boundary dividing white settler communities from Native American communities, the defining line between the 'civilised'/'uncivilised', the colonial subject and the savage. it was released during an era when America was grappling with undoing laws around racial segregation, and reflects those anxieties through classic American mythology.

so. Sam is a modern interpretation of Martin and Debbie from that movie, and Dean is a modern variant on its leading anti-hero, Ethan Edwards (rather John is our initial Ethan figure, but we spend most of the show with Dean, who takes on his mantle). just to emphasise the connection between the show and this movie - Star Wars heavily references it, and Kripke's always been explicit about this show's two leads as Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. well, i'd argue this show definitely owes more to The Searchers than Star Wars does!

Martin is Ethan's adoptive nephew of partial Cherokee descent, made an outsider to his family, by his uncle, at the film's outset due to his blood. he joins his uncle on his revenge mission after a Comanche tribe destroys their home and steals his adoptive sister - Debbie. this mission becomes his coming-of-age journey into rugged frontier manhood, as much as it is his path towards integration into white, 'civilised' society.

the protagonist of the film is Ethan, a soldier who gets consumed by his seven year long, bloody, vengeance-fuelled quest to recover his niece. when he finds Debbie, however, to his dismay he discovers she's no longer the 'pure' innocent he remembers. upon finding out that she's married to the tribe's chief - he literally disowns her as his blood kin, and at one point, even tries to kill her. Martin becomes the one to save her from his uncle's shot and the one to convince her to return home. he later convinces Ethan to recommit to rescuing her, and he ends up doing so.

(15.17 - Sam over s4 functions as a Debbie figure, but Jack also takes up her role. Dean disowns him as Ethan disowns his niece)

over the movie, we see Ethan descend into ever increasing violence and 'wildness', grown closer to his enemy after years spent on the frontier, hunting them down. Martin gets to go home, his civilising mission completed as he marries into a white family. Ethan though, stands at the threshold in the iconic concluding shot below. he's been transformed by frontier violence to the point he no longer belongs to the domestic, civilised world. he wanders back out into the desert, alone.

(1.14)

anyways. Supernatural owes so much of its dna to the classic Western, and to this movie in particular. what The Searchers was to collective white American anxieties over desegregation in the late 50s, this show was to collective white American anxieties over multiculturalism at the new millenium, in the wake of 9/11. Sam's demon blood is a critical defining line between him and his brother, as Martin's mixed race status is the defining line between him and his uncle. 'monstrosity' on this show metaphorically stands in for savagery; one brother gets thrown out onto the frontier, a journey towards 'taming' his own nature. and another brother drifts further and further away from civilised society the longer he spends fighting at the frontier, protecting civilisation from its monsters. 'blood don't end with family' comes to a screeching halt when it addresses the prospect of monstrosity. what is demon blood standing in for on this show? what does a monster represent, truly? who gets to step over the threshold into civilised society, and what is the price of that acceptance?