#its really a full ted talk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sambhavami · 1 month ago

Note

yk one woman I will always feel bad for is Kripi.

Unserious reason: I'd feel sorrry for any person who has ashwatthama as a son because im an Ashwatthama hater.

Serious reason: She was probably raised very comfortably and lovingly with Shantanu, doted upon by Kripa, idk if she saw Shantanus other kids as her siblings but maybe them too, very cute, right? And then got married to drona. This makes me wonder what the circumstances of their marriage were, what did the royal family think about it? I like to think Drona liked her at least at first. And. And the first few days are fine, right? Like hey maybe shes not living in a palace but its a quaint little house and shes happy. But slowly Drona begins changing. Or rather showing his true colours. Becomes a stingy but power hungry guy and Kripi had to manage the household with those few resources... he disappears to go learn from Parshuram, when they they have ashwatthama, he's crying for milk and Drona will sit there dreaming about power and money and not even try to do anything... (taking this next part from BR Chopra idk if its in the official editions) When the Drupad thing happens he sacrifices all practicality for pride and even after he gets a job in Hastinapur he's still staying in a small hut because he wants DRUPADS money/cows... like be fr dude. And its all so messed up. And she sees her son grow up. He carries the same ambition as his father did. The cycle is repeating and all she can do is watch. It's so sad... and what did she get at the end of the war. A dead husband and a son who would be known for all eternity as the most cowardly man ever. Her son is alive but at what cost. He will outlive her like he is supposed to but at what cost. It's so sad. I'm sure I can come up with more but this is my Ted talk for now thank you for listening.

Hey, thank you so much for putting all this into words! I agree with you about 90% 😂, so, I am going to put some bullet points 😂

Shantanu all but adopts the twins yes, but he still keeps them in separate lodging (because, caste). We see Bheeshma too later speaking to Kripa with the respect of an elder, even though Bheeshma is the oldest person in the room (again, caste). Seeing that like his father, Kripa is also interested in archery, Shantanu arranges for training in that field alongside your normal theory stuff, and Kripi gets home science lessons (and some of the theory part too).

Now, when they grow up, Dr. Bhaduri's baseline assessment of Kripa is- lazy. He has grown up with the respect of a brahmin and the luxury of a kshatriya, and has never really experienced the 'hardships' of either side, which has made him extremely complacent. I mean, it takes Drona all but one month to take over his sarkari naukri! Throughout the epic [at least till Drona's death] Kripa's maximum contribution is: "Uh, what he said." He follows his muh-bola brother and brother-in-law in whatever decision the latters take. He loves his sister, but I doubt he had anything to do with her marriage this way or that way.

Kripi's marriage to Drona is fixed via a three-way agreement between Shantanu, Sharadvana and Bharadvaja. The reason for this alliance, is speculatively twofold: (1) Both Kripi and Drona's mothers come from a 'lower' caste, and they would find it difficult to marry within full-brahmin families, so this arrangement was b/w equals that way, (2) the Maudgalya brahmins, the Bharadvajas and the Kurus are all cousin lineages, and they did like to keep it within the not-immediate family.

Now, Drona does NOT want to marry her. He only agrees when Bharadvaja sort of blackmails him with a 'this is my dying wish' argument. The marriage happens, I think, shortly before/after Bharadvaja's death, at a time when Drona is too much in shock to protest. We see the ripple effects of this throughout Kripi's life [most of it behind the scenes though].

Bharadvaja was solidly upper-middle-class however. He was after all the dean of a very, very successful gurukul. He might've kept Drona in a pseudo-austere situation, but they weren't by any means hurting for cash. Drona might not have clocked it, and Bharadvaja probably did not think it very appropriate to flash money before his very impressionable kid but Drupada did that job, and the damage was done.

Throughout his childhood and youth Drona loudly complains, to anyone who would listen, that he hates his father's job, and does NOT want to become the next Bharadvaja and keep the gurukul running. He does teach at the school under his father when he's a bit older, but kicking and screaming all the way.

Hence, it's no surprise that once the old Bharadvaja dies, the parents start to withdraw their kids from his school, because why would they allow their children to toil in vain under a guy who very vocally hates the job? Bharadvaja's usp was political science, which isn't Drona's strong suit anyway, so that was the official reason for the students to leave. It is around this time that Kripi marries into the mess. She is comfortable at first yes, but she can see the future too, just is unable to stop it because Drona never listens.

Drona, however does nothing to stop the leak because baap ka maal dariya mein daal, right? He only wises up once all the savings and the students are gone, and he is well and truly penniless. It's now that he sets aside his ego, and asks his neighbours for tuition contracts, and they just say heck no! They rather suggest, "You wanted to be a kshatriya so bad, then go be a soldier under some king instead." And Drona even tries that, and all the local kings go, "I won't sin by employing a brahmin to do a kshatriya's work! Have you considered teaching?"

Now, Drona is well and truly out of options, since no one would even donate a single cow, and he was running out of ways to feed his family. Ashwatthama, he loves dearly, and it pains him immensely to see him suffer and be bullied by kids and adults alike on top of that, but he would still not accept his wife's family's help.

The milk-incident is the straw that breaks the camel's back, and Drona packs up and drags his little family all the way to Kampilya, gets insulted and then finally, to avoid being homeless with a wife and kid, he finally, reluctantly goes to stay with Kripa.

There, once he has enticed the princes, Bheeshma is finally informed that his sister and brother-in-law are here [that much of a low profile he was keeping out of shame]. Bheeshma obviously treats him with respect regardless taking him to his own quarters to have a chat mano-a-mano, and then we get this golden(?) exchange:

Bheeshma: "So Drona, how is my little sister then?"

Drona: "She's got less hair on her head, but she's kinda smart so I tolerate it."

I mean I would still like to know, what was going on in his brain for him to first think of, and then say aloud these words, to her BROTHER no less! YOU starved her for the better part of a decade, your son's voice never changed and he's got a bump on his head as a direct consequence of that, and you were expecting your wife to be what, Hema Malini?!

Bheeshma kinda glosses over that comment, because I guess ladkiwale and all that nonsense, plus I think he realized giving Drona the teaching job was the only way to ensure his sister and nephew would have something to eat the next day, because Drona would still not accept any charity, much less from him.

Bheeshma actually gives Drona an entire apartment complex's worth of four-to-five-storey buildings under the guise of arranging student hostels, and Drona, with his family actually live in a penthouse type flat in one of those buildings itself, with an army of servants and a hefty allowance that he doesn't have to touch since food and lodging are paid for already [gurudakshinas on top of that]. They are comfortable, but Drona would never admit that this turn of fate happened thanks to Kripi and her family [and also he hates teaching unless it is Ashwatthama or later, Arjuna].

Ashwatthama actually grows up relatively well-adjusted considering how most of his childhood went. He is also a better friend of the Pandavas [Arjuna in particular, and there's a bit of jealousy too, and some healthy competition] that the Kauravas. He fights on the Kauravas' side only because Drona doesn't want to be on the same side as Drupada, and Kripa will follow Drona to the earth's end [mostly because he can't bothered to make his own choice]. Ashwatthama mostly sticks around to keep his father and uncle safe, despite the fact that he HATES and is nearly coming to blows every night with Karna.

Karna too, a tactless, filterless idiot, decides that the best time to air all his grievances with Drona [all fair points which I agree with wholeheartedly], to Ashwathhama no less, is one freaking hour after his father's been brutally murdered. Time and a place, man! [Ashwathhama cuts off his janeu, declared himself not-a-brahmin and challenges Karna to a death match, but Duryodhana gets in them iddle and stops it].

Also, this is where something in Ashwatthama cracks. Due to the previous circumstances, he has a kind of an unhealthy attachment to Drona, to the point that he never even goes to rule the part of Panchala that his father crowned him for. His death unleashes something feral in the man, that we see get compounded when he sees Duryodhana dying [this, imo, meshes in his mind with the manner of his father's death, and in a way he goes to avenge Drona when he massacres the remaining Pandavas and Panchalas].

And yes, Kripi is left all alone [except for her twin], to deal with the emotional as well as physical fallout from the war. The only solace was probably that she was great-grandma to Parikshit, and we can only hope that she found some solace there.

#hindu mythology #mahabharat #kripa #kripi #dronacharya #bhishma #ashwatthama

65 notes · View notes

luvseisagi · 21 days ago

Text

— strawberries and cigarettes.

ft. itoshi rin x reader wc. 2.7k

summary. rin doesn't like parties, but he likes challenges —and when you show up with a cigarette in your mouth and a smirk on your lips, he knows he can't back down. content. fem!reader, slow burn, suggestive (like. they make out. idk) reader is very flirty, rin is an introvert. a loooot of sarcasm and tension i guess. they both smoke !!! also mentions of throwing up (at a party). rin is ooc bc he would never smoke and hes way too playful. author's note. its called like this but it has nothing to do with troye sivans song. actually, ive been listening only to chase atlantic while writing this. its been a while since i write something suggestive and its my first in english so i hope its fine, enjooy :)

rin doesn’t want to be here.

the lights are too bright, the music too loud, and he hates having sweaty, drunk bodies brushing up against him while he tries to sip his soda quietly in the corner of shidou’s enormous living room. his friends —if he’s still calling them that after they abandoned him to his fate— are somewhere in the crowd. or in the garden. or in the pool. or maybe tangled up with someone in a bedroom upstairs.

the last time he saw isagi, he was drunk off his ass, rambling about metavision in front of a crowd that watched him like it was a ted talk. his face was flushed red from the alcohol, his words slurring, and rin was pretty sure everyone was only pretending to care just to have an excuse to end up in a bedroom with him.

bachira, on the other hand, had vanished the second they walked through the front door. after greeting shidou —then like fifteen people in a row—, he dove straightly into the pool. rin hasn’t seen him since. nor has he asked.

there are other familiar faces floating around. he spotted karasu and yukimiya in the kitchen, mixing drinks like they were concocting a new chemical formula. otoya’s teaching some girl how to play pool, hands all over her under the excuse of helping. reo and chigiri are probably gossiping out in the garden, cocktails in hand.

rin could try to find someone to talk to. start a conversation. make new friends, be normal. socialize. pretend he’s having fun at a party.

but he really, truly doesn’t want to be here.

so he leaves.

he finds the front door easily—no surprise, considering he never wandered more than five steps from it during the hour and a half he spent trying and failing to enjoy himself. he only ventured as far as the fridge to grab a coke, then retreated to a corner with his phone like it was a shield.

the soft spring breeze hits his face as he steps outside, and he exhales, relieved. one more minute in that hellhole and he would’ve thrown himself into the pool and never come up.

he leaves the empty can on the windowsill beside the door, shoves his hands in his pockets, and fixes his hair. then he lingers on the porch, eyes drifting to the houses across the street. it’s quiet, way past midnight, so there’s no one around. the only sound is the muffled thump of the party music, like a ghost haunting the silence.

he sighs again.

he hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. but his ego—his massive, infuriating ego—dragged him here after shidou’s jab a few days ago.

“hey, guys, throwing a party this friday.” shidou had announced to his group of friends.

rin scoffed. “always throwing parties, never focusing on practice.”

“shut up, rin. learn to have fun and be a normal fucking teenager for once, then you can scold me, yeah?”

it hadn’t been even that serious, but his so-called friends had agreed with shidou —“yeah, a little fun wouldn’t kill you.” “he’s right, rin, why don’t you come and relax?”

so he took it like a challenge, and he went to shidou’s on friday to prove he could have fun. that he did know how to enjoy a party.

that delusion lasted an hour and a half.

he can’t keep lying to himself. this isn’t his scene —full of drunk people, weird smells and undrinkable drinks. the music’s so loud he can’t hear the voices, the laughter’s so loud he can’t hear the music.

rin tosses his jacket over his shoulders and lazily stretches his joints. he’s not going to pretend he's enjoying this when he’d rather be home.

he takes a step toward the stairs when the front door swings open again, and a body barrels out, nearly crashing into him—he catches it just in time, instincts quick as ever.

“what the fuck? watch where you’re going.”

“uh, sorry. someone threw up inside, and i took that as my cue to go.”

rin grimaces. good call, he’s thankful he left a few minutes before the incident.

“whatever.” he mutters. “try not to barrel into people next time.”

you push off his chest and straighten up, brushing yourself off with a bright smile. you tilt your head slightly to the side, grinning. shameless.

“yeah, yeah. i will, uh …?”

but rin doesn’t answer. it’s like someone punched the air out of his lungs —you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen.

“let’s try that again.” you smirk, clearly aware of your effect on people. “my name’s yn. and you are?”

rin blinks. once. twice. then he realizes you’re waiting for his name.

“oh. rin.”

“rin…?”

“just rin.”

your smile deepens. he’s stupidly handsome, and you hadn’t expected anyone to be out here when you sprinted away from the chaos.

“right. just rin.” your lips curve, his name leaving an aftertaste of alcohol and challenge in your tongue. “i’ll make sure to watch my step the next time i gracefully fall into your arms.”

he snaps out of it slightly, raising an eyebrow. then he lowers his head to look you in the eyes.

“the point is, you won’t fall into my arms again,” he deadpans. “and that wasn’t graceful. You almost flattened me.”

you chuckle.

“sure. whatever.”

and rin assumes that’s it, that you’ll turn around and head back inside. but instead, you stay put —after digging in your purse, you pull out a small red box and flip it open.

you take a cigarette and place it in between your lips. rin watches the motion a little too closely.

he’s not being subtle.

“want one?” you offer, cig bobbing slightly with your smirk.

rin doesn’t smoke. he knows its bad for his health —really bad, specially for an athlete. he knows he should say no.

but you’re looking at him like eve tempting adam, head slightly tilted to a side, lips full and reddish around the tip of the cig, brows raised. he doesn’t know if you’re asking or demanding, but your gaze looks defiant and your smile smug.

and rin can never back down from a challenge.

so he takes one.

“got a lighter?” you ask.

he shakes his head.

“that’s a shame.” you pull out a silver lighter covered in glittery stars. “you’d look so hot lighting a cigarette.”

he has no response for that. honestly, he might’ve short-circuited —especially when you light your own, then lean in to light his, too.

your hand cups the flame near his face, the other shielding the cig between his lips. his gaze is fixed in your eyes, focused on the action. the breeze tangles in his hair and pushes it back.

the cold teal of his pupils seems to condense the air around you as it collides with the hot smoke coming out of your mouth. you hold his gaze.

“have you ever smoked before, rin?”

it sounds more like a taunt.

“no." he frowns, pulls the cigarette away. "is it that obvious?”

“well, yeah.” you laugh gently. he exhales, awkward. “wait, let me show you.”

you don’t grab the cigarette, as he expects you to. instead, you take his arm and pull him to the stairs. you sit down first, and pat the spot next to you.

he obeys without hesitation.

sitting side by side on shidou’s porch steps, your bodies are close —maybe even too close. when you turn to begin with your explanation, your nose nearly brushes his.

“put it back between your lips.” you instruct. he does it without question. “yeah, just like that. good boy.”

you burst into laughter as his face turns violently red, and he immediately takes the cig out.

“god, you’re just like shidou.” he scowls. his frowning looks chronic. “shut up, you’re not that funny. stop laughing.”

but you can’t stop now.

“no, that part wasn’t funny. your face is, though.”

rin doesn’t say a single word more. actually, he looks like he’s about to get up and storm off, face flushed —he feels mortified—, but you grab his wrist before he can.

“sorry, sorry.” your voice softens, genuinely this time “come on, sit. i’ll teach you.”

his brain scream that this is a bad idea. he should just go, toss away the cig, and try to forget this night. but your voice sounds sincere, and when your thumb strokes the inside of his wrist gently, his skin tingles.

maybe it’s not a bad idea to stay a while more.

“fine.” he mutters, like you’re the one begging.

“okay, look. you want the tip like this, right at the edge of your lips. it won’t fall, promise.”

a little bit unsure, he follows your indications —he tries, not quite right.

you shake your head, laugh softly, and take the cigarette from his lips —then bring your hand to his face. you gently guide his chin —touch is firm, not forceful. you’re not pushing him, just holding, and waiting.

“here. like this.” you reposition it. tilt his head up. “now, breathe in. don’t let the smoke sit on your mouth, swallow it. then exhale.”

you pull away, then take a puff of your own cigarette to show him how it’s done. your eyes stay locked on his. expectant.

rin is not really sure about your indications, but he tries anyways. takes a big breath, then swallows as you said —and the smoke is so bitter and hot in his throat that it stings.

he takes the cig out of his mouth before coughing hard.

“fuck.” he swears. “that tastes like shit.”

he expects you to laugh at him again, but you don’t, this time. you just take another puff from your own, then you shrug.

“i mean, it’s not easy the first time. it gets better with practice, you’ll be fine.”

he frowns, absentmindedly looking at the cig between his index and heart fingers.

“i don’t really want to get better." he says, like a confession. "i don’t want to smoke, at all.”

you turn your head to look at him.

“then why’d you take it?”

rin shrugs. he doesn’t really know how to admit he’s supposed to be trying to learn to have fun. more exactly, demonstrate he already knows how to have fun —but there are no excuses he can make up anyway.

“my friends said i don’t know how to have fun at parties.” he says, turning his body to you. he leans against the stair railing. a strand of jet black hair falls over his right eye. “and i came here to prove them wrong. but this party sucks.”

he looks at you. you look at him.

then you start laughing again, hard.

rin groans and nudges your arm, complaining, but you can see a discreet smile growing on his face.

“stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

but he knows how absurd it sounds saying it out loud, so he can’t help widening his smile as your laugh tingles in his ears.

“i mean, it is a little funny.” you say “but still, you don’t need to smoke to have fun at a party. specially when you clearly don’t want to”

“i know.”

“you could, i don’t know, choose any other thing.” you continue. “get wasted with shidou’s drink collection. or cannonball into the pool fully clothed.”

rin shakes his head. “no and no. i don't like alcohol, and... just no, to the second one.”

you shift your position to face him fully, knees brushing his. you lean your back against the railing of the stairs, too. your voice is cautious when you propose the next idea.

“then, maybe… talk to a stranger. make out with them.”

he doesn’t answer.

you take another puff, and exhale slowly. the smoke curls between you like a curtain rising before the first act.

your knees touch, and your fingers are close. you start to wonder if he hasn't understood you or he's just ignoring you.

“why do you smoke?”

you blink.

the question catches you off guard, but the moment holds. his voice is slightly deeper, softer, now —and his gaze is so intense you feel your legs tremble.

“i don’t know.” you answer, quietly —as if scared of bursting the bubble that has just emerged around you, enclosing you in a strangely intimate moment “i guess it relaxes me. it’s a habit.”

“it also ruins your lungs and damages your throat. it's bad for your body, in general, leaves your mouth pasty and stains your breath.”

you raise a brow at the sudden reprimand, but his tone is still the same as before —low, and soft. a little dangerous, even. he’s lowered his head slightly, and is slowly leaning forward.

“yeah, that too.” your voice is definitely a whisper now. you sit up, getting closer to him “but my breath isn’t that bad.”

he looks at your lips. slowly. deliberately. thoroughly —his sharp teal gaze traces the line of your mouth, the cigarette practically consumed on the edge of your lower lip.

you see a spark of something in his eyes. desire, you guess. hunger, maybe. a challenge. definitely.

he looks nothing like the guy learning how to smoke just ten minutes ago. but maybe, you wonder, he was never that guy —maybe this has been his play from the start, and you were the one falling for it.

you lean into his body, tossing the cigarette aside and bringing your face closer to his. your eyes are about to close, the feeling of his hot breath is on your lips.

but something suddenly stops you.

it’s his hand, you realize —three fingers under your mouth, two at the base of your neck. just like yours before, he's not aggressive, just firm.

you swallow.

rin raises an eyebrow, closing the distance as much as he can without actually touching your lips. looks like he's about to smile, but he doesn't quite do it.

“i’m not kissing someone whose mouth tastes like smoke.” he murmurs.

you step back and furrow your brows. what are you playing? you want to ask —his hand hovers now on your knee, suspended halfway between you both.

he’s waiting. letting you decide.

but rin doesn’t know what possessed him. seconds ago, he was convinced he was a social disaster —but something in the way you looked at him, like you wanted, really wanted him to kiss you, flipped a switch.

it felt like a beast stirred inside him. the same one he only ever met when he played —hungry. ruthless. ready to devour rivals. ready to devour you, now.

“fine.” you say. you reach your purse on the stair below you. “is a strawberry mint enough for your majesty?”

a low laugh escapes him. something glints in his eyes. the ghost of a smirk appears on his mouth. “yeah. sure. whatever.”

you pop the mint, still frowning, still holding his gaze as it melts on your tongue. you’re sure this would be awkward in any other moment —but now, it’s charged. electric, like time itself holds its breath.

“done, happy?” you retort, opening your mouth in mock presentation. “you can kiss me now, or is there, like, a checklist i have to-”

you don’t finish. his hand is already grabbing your neck as his lips crash into yours.

rin kisses like he plays —like he means it. he's dominant, but hungry, mouth moving against yours like your lips are a five-star sin and he’s been starving. he’s firm, but needy, a small whimper leaving his lips when you smile in the middle of the kiss. his hand is in your neck —won’t let you move your head or get away from him. his grip is sure, holding your head still, but his fingers press in so gently it tingles.

you pull back, breath caught somewhere in your throat —you feel dizzy, somehow stunned. the boy kisses good. too good, like he’s trying to ruin you.

and you’re so okay with that.

“see?” he mutters, mouth brushing yours, smug and breathless. there’s a taste of sarcasm in his lips. “that’s what smoking does. steals your breath.”

you snort.

“sure. let’s blame the smoking.”

you don’t give him the pleasure of admitting you are breathless because of him. however, from the way he’s looking at you —smirking, glowing— you’re pretty sure he already knows.

“whatever. now come and kiss me again.” he murmurs.

your mouth is shaped like a smile when you lean back in, obeying him without question, eyes closed as your nose brushes his.

however, again —he stops you. not even a millimeter from his lips. not even a breath between your mouths.

“yeah, just like that.” he whispers. “good girl.”

the smirk he throws you before pulling you back in is downright filthy, and your cheeks burn in fluster, annoyance, and desire.

“shut the fuck up, rin.”

he grins, and as requested, you kiss him again —lips tangled with his as he brushes them against you, now a little bit softer, but still hungry.

he tastes every corner of your mouth, then smiles mid-kiss —sweet with strawberries and just a hint of smoke.

masterlist.

﹫luvseisagi, june 2025.

#archive 📁. ۶ৎ #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk x you #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #blue lock rin #bllk rin #bluelock #rin x reader

124 notes · View notes

willbyersmikewheeler · 1 month ago

Text

Thoughts on the trailer:

I’ve been in shock so I haven’t actually said my thoughts on the trailer. So let me speak my truth now:

Ok, Joyce and Will, that opening man - that really got me screaming quietly because it was 3am. It was so healing to see them finally talk about it, we haven’t see that yet and I better see more conversations like that in s5 - them being able to talk about their trauma and start healing from it hopefully.. I’m happy to get that Joyce being a mother dynamic again with honestly, everyone not just will. Since, no shade to Joyce she was going through a lot but, I feel as though that mother dynamic was neglected due to her other story lines so I’m very happy to return to MOTHER JOYCE. Her with that axe? OH….LORD. Powerful. She’s gonna be so mother this season I know it.

THE WILL VOICE OVER, OH ITS SO HIS SEASON. SO HAPPY. LOVED THAT.

OK,,,, now wasn’t the biggest fan of half of the trailer being flashback scenes - BUT, we have already worked out a lot from leaks and stuff, so it’s just to not spoil the plot. So, sad but meh it’s fine - we got content, that’s all I need.

BARN SCENE - OK,,, what’s banging down the damn door? Joyce w axe!! From left to right in the background we have : Will, Erica, Derek, and Robin. Will and Robin interaction officially confirmed !! I’m aware we all knew already but I’m happy asf with Will and Robin interacting. Derek is either on the second floor, or floating to which HUH?? Hella confused.

HOLLY AND KAREN: Been knew that this was gonna happen, but still confused of what they are shocked at - ted isn’t in the shot so…. Maybe something is happening to him? I’m excited too see where they’ll go with this new storyline and exploring these characters more.

LUMAX, the only ship *cough cough* Byler was technically shown together *cough cough* that was shown in the teaser! We’ve seen this shot in bts before twice now, so easy shot to include. I’m happy that max is out of that full body cast but, how they are gonna wake her up and she plays a part in this season is a question mark for me right now.

DUSTIN & STEVE SHOT: Them looking up at something, we’ve seen this in leaks before - not sure what they’re doing but you can’t really tell much of anything from this shot. Other than a beaten up Dustin to which, been knew. The bullies obviously beat him up, confused on the timeline of these events though…hmmmmm.

HOPPER & EL: Ok, first off the duos are so clear by this teaser trailer! And I’m so happy for the hopper and el dynamic to come back full swing. We see alarms blasting as El screams and hopper comforts her, I’m not to sure where they are? Maybe the lab? Definitely somewhere that’s high security. And then, the edge of the wall - and hopper and el standing there looking at it, I’m very interested as to what this is and what the hell that brain like stuff is on the wall. The edge of the upside down because it only exists in Hawkins?? Are they in someone’s mind?? Hmmm interesting!

LEADER MIKE LEADER MIKE: OH, I LOVE THIS SHOT. OK LOADS TO UNPACK,,,

Mike is wet in this shot??? what?? And don’t think I forgot about that will byers wet bts pic too, byler is see you.

Mike protecting kids + Will & Joyce, I knew Derek was being added but I didn’t know about the other kids - I saw multiple people say that, they are Holly’s friends and … Mike sees himself in one of them and realises his feelings for Will were romantic. ABSOLUTE CINEMA. While I love Mike being a protector to those kids, I really hope they aren’t paired up with those kids for the entire season. I need Byler to have some solo moments.

Will in Joyce’s arms in the background,,, oh I feel ILL. Why is my poor boy exhausted / nearly unconscious?? From powers usage or injury…? I just want him to be happy guys.

MILITARY SHOT: NOW WHAT THE HELLY. Ok, the upsidedown ,saw someone say dragon from the painting and I do need that now, breaking the concrete.. SICK AS HELL.

WILL ONCE AGAIN PASSED OUT IN THE BACKGROUND WITH JOYCE BY HIM (?), NOT AS SICK AS HELL. IM SCARED FOR HIM, DESPITE ME KNOWING HES GONNA LIVE. STILL WANT HIM TO BE OK.

WILL SCREAMING - SO, we have our answers it was will screaming at Mike to run!! VERY TERRIFYING. AMAZING SHOT / SCENE. HORRIFYING SCREAM. EXCITED BUT SCARED. Not sure, why he’s screaming duh, But two main running theories are Will and something to do with possession or powers or both?.. I’m sat you guys.

I’M HAPPY THE TEASER TRAILER IS OUT, NOT SO HAPPY ABOUT THE GA BUT SIGHS GUESS ILL PUT UP WITH IT.

#will byers #mike wheeler #byler #byler endgame #byler brainrot #byler nation #byler is canon #byler tumblr #byler st5 #byler s5 #mike wheeler is gay #byler stranger things #stranger things #st5 #stranger things s5 #stranger things season 5 #st5 leaks #st5 spoilers #Side note: LOVED them sharing memories pre trailer so cute

78 notes · View notes

dasketcherz · 1 year ago

Text

thought i'd share my thought process for this fun lil piece / outfit in full display that i whipped out for beckory on valentines cuz i really had a lotta fun making it <3

OKAY first off, big thanks to @leaky-heart for helpin me gather some really cool outfit refs and for lending me resources where I can find a ref for bonnie's guitar in a 3d space. Thank you bestie, yar a life saver <3

Second, @/littleleaflings' jacket—goated af, will never stop gushin bout it aaaaAAA <3

Okay so looking at freddy & bonnie's designs—i am in love with how their dominant and accent colors are opposite of each other like a yin and yang situation. So i absolutely tried to incorporate that when rearranging the palette unto beckory's outfit

Fronnie's colors arent the only contrasting elements about them. Aside from their earrings, even their symbols are a pair—i love how freddy's is a lighting bolt but he is also associated with stars on the side cuz of his branding. While bonnie's is a star but he also has lightning bolts on the side (the purple accent in his fit) to match freddy

And to sprinkle a bit of beckory flair, i put stripe lines across their pants (if you look back on my ref sheet for the squad, the three amigos all have stripes somewhere in their fits, i purposely designed that to be their thing) just to also unify the patterns from their top

i gave tony a scarf to match greg's bow tie accessory. Its a combo homage to bonnie's headband and bunny ears in a way (cuz the ribbons on its ends look like droopy rabbit ears) i gave them gloves to compensate being unable to add punk bracelets on em cuz it would be too much for the overall look (same logic applies to the star shades, its to match with the top hat)

Also this was such a pure coincidence but i also realized beckory wears their fazwatches in the same placement as fronnie wears their earrings on. That actually makes me very happy, i think its a really cool coincidence

And as yall can see, Greg's jacket initially had stars on his sleeves (like it does in the ref), but i decided against putting it in the final cuz im startin to think it might look cluttered and hard to read from afar and tbh, I really liked how the translucent sleeves turned out... I didnt want the star pattern to cover it up lol

And thats pretty much it, thank you coming to my ted talk!! <3

if youre interested to see more of my art process compilation like this you can check over on my ko-fi page, you can support me by buying me a latte cuz I am planning to post more exclusive stuff like this over there in the future so I hope yall look forward to that! I deeply appreciate yall and thank you so much in advance!!

#daske art #fnaf #beckory #gregtony #GTY46 #fnaf gregory #tony becker #five nights at freddy's #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fnaf GGY #five nights at freddy's security breach #detective rabbit #fnaf tales from the pizzaplex #five nights at freddy's tales from the pizzaplex

600 notes · View notes

wartime-flowers · 1 month ago

Text

Percy could have and should have gotten into any college he wanted

This started out as a hc and then I took it and ran.

Full disclaimer, I have not read the new pro trilogy about the college rec letter adventures. I do not think this is necessary as im not actually talking much about them.

Okay first of all I do know about the "this is your debt for existing" bs and if I was percy I would tell the gods to go screw themselves and never lift a finger for them again.

second of all I understand the appeal of NRU because of the safety it provides. that is the only counter argument I will accept.

see more under the cut

Percy could have and should have gotten into any college he wanted.

Like okay, maybe not an Ivy League, but come on. The dude is smart!

And we know he’s on the swim team, so he for sure could’ve gotten a scholarship. (Do American universities look at swimming as a scholarship sport? They can in this world)

Also I dont know much about the American college admission essays, but one girl wrote about her parents dying I think? Like hating the letter 'S' So like it’s really random and personalised?

Dude’s literally famous. He’s known to have been kidnapped at 12 and was the ‘hero’ of the situation by getting into the ‘gunfight’ with Ares. Also he’s an insane story teller. You cant tell me he wouldn’t write a hell of an admissions essay about that.

AND he’s a published author. All while he’s in high school. I feel like universities should be knocking down his door begging him to study there.

Hes actually got an insane application. And okay, he might not have the best marks. But that is because what we've seen in majority of the series is him not being taken seriously because of his disabilities, and not being given any accomodations. You just know after Paul got involved, things got better for him. And you know once he got some real support, teachers would right him such good rec letters for a hell of a lot less than the gods are asking for.

Also! Percy is a talker. he may be an introvert, but he's a people person all the same. He knows about to talk to people, and get the outcome he wants. And he's got personality, and he's pretty easy on the eyes, so ive heard. Not to objectify or anything. I think he would actually kill an interview if he had to do one. (this ive only seen on tv, I have no idea if its real or not)

Paired up with whatever advocacy work he does with Rachel and grover. (you know he does) Hes actually such a well rounded student.

To sum up:

percy would have a hell of a college application

he could probably talk his way into getting enrolled in an interview

he would get better and easier rec letters from mortal teachers

he should tell the gods and their extra conditions to F off and pursue a college with real life credentials that the rest of the mortal world knows exists.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

#percy jackson #hoo #pjo #chalice of the gods #not canon compliant #percy going to college #he would be like the poster child for a university admissions centre #dude has literally published 2 books in universe #BEFORE GRADUATING HS #that's actually insane #I feel like we sleep on this fact as a fandom #Also there are so many gods that percy has done favours for #he literally did not need to do more quests #hades should have written him one after the sword debacle #Hermes after whatever side quest happened with him #I forgot what it was but percabeth went to Paris as a reward #you just know if Apollo had been around at the time he would have written one for percy #and you know what?#Hera should have written one as emotional reparations after the whole stealing him and his memories for MONTHS #And zeus would never #Hephaestus for being the reason percy got blown up in a volcano and was dying on calypsos island for 3 weeks #you know what? Aphrodite would have loved to give him one just because she loves percabeth #the only ones who wouldn't and dont have a good reason to would be like ares Dionysus and Athena #those three hate his guts #and Artemis is just like n to nice enough to do that for a boy for no reason regardless of how much she likes percy #a girl asks? her signature is right there is sparkly silver and pink gel pen #Hestia would for sure write one for anyone that asks I love her so much

60 notes · View notes

nanamineedstherapy · 4 months ago

Text

Heat & Dust: Where the Wind Calls Her Name

Modern AU: Nanami Kento x Indian F!Wife Reader

Summary: Nanami & his wife were happy. That was before Rajasthan. Because when the wind howls through the ruins, the whispers call a name. (A slow-burn tragedy about a love lost & a man who never stopped looking.) Trigger Warnings: Smut (so minors & ageless blogs please touch grass), Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Shakespearian Tragedy, Haunting Love Stories, Loverboy Kento Nanami, Emotional Torture, Rajasthan & Indian Folklore, Death (Past & New), Ghost Prince GS, Hopeless Romanticism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. The Reader is of Indian descent, but you can hallucinate whatever you want, body type, skin complexion, etc., descriptions have not been used. The town is real & abandoned overnight for haunting reasons, but the palace described is fictional. A/N: Welcome to My TED Talk on Why Nanami Kento Can’t Have Peace. So yesterday, I watched an Indian horror movie, & then I remembered a convo I had with my Indian atheist friend (hardcore non-believer), who casually dropped the fact that in India, “Oh yeah, we don’t dress up too much around ruins.” And I was like… excuse me???. Apparently, this isn’t just a "women beware" thing—even guys warn each other about this, because it’s not just women—cute men have also disappeared or gone insane. So instead of reacting like a normal person, my brain said: “What if Nanami Kento went full Majnu?” So naturally, this is now Nanami’s problem. Also, why do I keep making this man suffer? I love him, I really do, but if he’s not in maximum emotional distress, am I really doing my job? Anyway, Nanami is suffering & the narrator is a liar. Believe nothing. Enjoy the pain, besties. 🖤

Rajasthan was a furnace in late autumn. The sun bled into the horizon, streaking the sky with burnt oranges and bruised purples as a foreigner husband and his local wife trailed behind their tour group.

"Are we really doing this?" She murmured, her fingers lightly brushing his wrist. The tour guide was droning on about the history of Kuldhara, the abandoned village known for its curse. But their real interest lay in the looming structure ahead—the palace of a prince, a name lost in history but kept alive by local whispers.

The palace was breathtaking, a relic of Rajasthan’s royal past, its sandstone walls glowing amber under the setting sun. Nanami Kento had never been one for grand romantic gestures, but even he couldn’t resist the allure of this Mahal, with its intricate mosaics and whispered legends. His wife had been the one to suggest the trip. “It’s a place for lovers,” she’d said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And we could use a little adventure, don’t you think?”

They had been married for five years, a union that defied cultural expectations—a half-Danish, half-Japanese man and an Indian woman who had met in the unlikeliest of places: a student exchange in Tokyo. Their love had always been quiet but fierce, built on mutual respect and a shared disdain for the supernatural. They were atheists, both of them, grounded in logic and reason. Ghosts, spirits, curses—these were the stuff of fairy tales, not their reality.

Nanami adjusted his sunglasses. "It’s just a palace. You wanted to see something ‘haunted,’ right?"

She scoffed. "I was joking."

"You were not."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Fine. Maybe a little."

The group paused in front of the arched entryway; the marble cracked and overgrown with creeping vines. A hush settled over them as the guide began to recount the tale:

“This story isn’t in most history books, but ask the locals, and they’ll all tell you the same thing. Hundreds of years ago, a foreign prince came to this land—as a conqueror, though he stayed because of a person who lived here. Some say it was a woman, others say a man. The details were lost over time, but what we do know is that he had wealth, power, and control over vast territories. Yet, despite all of that, he chose to stay here, in a kingdom that wasn’t of his customs.

The prince was renowned for his striking beauty—his unique hair and captivating eyes—a ruler of immense charm but even greater misfortune. He built alliances, settled disputes, even took on the customs of the land. He was even undefeated in wars, a genius strategist. Some say he did it all for them—for the one person he couldn’t bear to leave behind.

But love like that rarely ends well.

One night, he vanished alongside his lover, a woman likely, promised to another. Some say they were caught and killed before they could run. Others say the prince’s enemies set a trap, making sure neither of them left these walls alive. But the strangest stories come from those who claim he never left at all.”

Nanami’s wife rolled her eyes. "He sounds like a tragic anime protagonist."

Nanami exhaled sharply—a rare, barely-there laugh. "You watch too much TV."

She elbowed him, and he caught her wrist, pulling her closer. The air between them shifted—heavy, charged.

"Come on," she whispered. "Let’s go somewhere less... crowded."

His hesitation was brief, a flicker of logic against the pull of her hand. They drifted past a crumbling archway, slipping into the shadowed halls of the abandoned palace. The moment the voices of the group faded behind them, the atmosphere thickened.

It wasn’t fear. It was anticipation.

She tugged him into a hidden alcove, her back pressing against cool stone. "No one’s here," she murmured, fingers curling into his shirt.

"Careful, darling, you sound too eager," he smeirked, his voice lower and rougher.

"Maybe I just believe in you more than the ghosts," she teased.

But the Mahal had other plans.

He kissed her before she could say anything more—slow, deliberate, consuming. The taste of sweat and dust mixed with the softness of her lips, and for a moment, nothing existed beyond this—just the weight of her body against his, the sharp intake of breath when he gripped her waist beneath her t-shirt, the warmth of her skin beneath his palms. Her lips kissing his with a hunger that made his chest ache.

They kissed like they were the only two people in the world, the cool marble at their backs and the faint scent of eucalyptus in the air.

When they finally pulled apart, she laughed, her voice echoing strangely in the empty hall. “This place is magic,” she said, her fingers tracing the patterns on the wall. “Can’t you feel it?”

Nanami smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I feel you,” he replied, his voice low. “That’s enough magic for me.”

And then—

The wind shifted.

A whisper of cool air, unnatural against the desert heat, coiled around them.

She shivered.

He pulled back slightly, brows furrowing. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head. “I just... felt something.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if she couldn’t quite put it into words.

A beat of silence hung between them, heavy and unspoken as he waited for her to elaborate.

Then she laughed, the sound light and airy, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Forget it. Let’s go back,” she said, her smile returning as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Her lips brushing against his ear, voice dropping to a whisper. “I want us to start trying for a baby.”

He shivered, a mix of surprise and warmth flooding through him. He’d wanted to have a family with her ever since he’d laid eyes on her.

Without a word, he pulled out his phone and called the driver, his voice steady but tinged with urgency.

As she stepped away, though, she hesitated.

Just for a moment.

Her gaze flickered toward the shadows of the palace, her smile faltering.

But then she shook it off, linking her arm with her husband’s waist, who kissed her forehead and pulled her towards the exit.

---

The first time he noticed something was wrong, it was subtle.

She was quieter on the ride back. Thoughtful. Her fingers tapped against the car window, her gaze unfocused.

"You’re not feeling sick, are you?" he asked, eyes flickering toward her.

She turned to him too slowly, blinking as if shaking herself from a daze. "No. Just tired."

He accepted it. At first.

But the things were going to change forever.

The moment the words had left her lips—“I want us to start trying for a baby”—Nanami’s world had narrowed to her, like it already didn’t revolve around her. His hands, usually so controlled, had trembled as they gripped her hips, pulling her closer. His lips had found hers in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and reverence; his breath had hitched as she melted into him.

“Are you sure?” He’d murmured against her mouth as soon as they walked inside their hotel room, his voice rough with need. When she nodded, his restraint had shattered.

He had been everywhere at once—his hands roaming her body, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that made her gasp. He was drunk on her, consumed by the idea of her carrying his child, and it showed in every touch, every kiss, every ragged breath. His composed demeanor was gone, replaced by a raw, primal hunger that left her breathless.

Nanami had been relentless, each thrust drawing a gasp or moan from her lips. He’d already brought her to the edge multiple times, his hands and mouth working in tandem to unravel her completely. But now, as he hovered above her, his hips moving with a rhythm that was almost possessive, he was focused on one thing: filling her. The thought of it—of her carrying his child—had him teetering on the edge of control.

“K…Ken…Ahh,” she had whimpered his name, her nails digging into his back as she arched against him. Her legs wrapped tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groaned, his forehead dropping to hers.

“I’ve got you,” he’d murmured, voice rough, breathless. His hand had slid between them, thumb circling her clit as he felt her tighten around him again. “Come for me one more time, love.”

She had, her body shuddering as she cried out his name. He was about to follow her over the edge.

But then, she had frozen. Her eyes wide, as she’d turned her head sharply toward the window. “Do you hear that?” she’d whispered, voice trembling.

Nanami had stilled, his brow furrowing as he tried to catch his breath. “Hear what?” he’d asked; his tone had been calm but tinged with concern.

“Music,” she’d said, her voice barely audible. "It's... it’s faint, but it’s there. Like a sitar or something.”

He had seriously listened but had heard nothing except the sound of their breathing and the faint rustle of the curtains. “I don’t hear anything,” he’d said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Are you sure?”

She’d nodded, eyes wide with confusion. “It’s there, Kento. I’m not imagining it.”

Nanami had studied her face, his analytical mind kicking into gear.

He had known her well enough to recognize when she was serious, and right now, she looked genuinely unsettled.

“Alright,” he’d said softly, pulling out of her and sitting up. “Let’s figure this out.”

She’d blinked, surprised by his calm reaction. “You believe me?”

“I believe that you heard something,” he’d said carefully, his tone measured. “Whether it’s real or not, we’ll find out. But I need you to be honest with me—are you sure you’re ready for this? For us trying for a baby?”

Her eyes had been filled with tears, and she’d shaken her head. “I’m not lying, Kento. I want this. I want us. But I heard something, and it's...”

He’d sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, let’s take a breath and figure this out together.”

As he’d reached for his robe, she’d grabbed his hand, her grip tight. “I’m sorry,” she’d whispered. “I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

He’d turned back to her, his expression softening. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he’d said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll figure this out. But for now, let’s just... breathe.”

She’d nodded, but the unease in her eyes remained.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Nanami had muttered before walking away.

She’d sat there, alone and confused, the faint strains of music still echoing in her ears.

Later that night, as they lay in their bed, she had sat up abruptly, her eyes wide. “Did you hear that?” she’d whispered.

“Hear what?” Nanami had asked, already half-asleep.

“A voice. It was… singing.”

He’d dismissed it as a trick of the wind or her exhaustion, but the next day, she’d insisted they return to the palace, her tone urgent and her eyes wide with something he couldn’t quite place. “I need to see it again,” she’d said, her tone urgent. “There’s something there, Kento. I can’t explain it.” He had to spend two hours convincing her it was nothing and they’d stick with their itinerary with the hotel.

Maybe it was the stress of traveling. Maybe the unfamiliar environment was playing tricks on her senses. Or maybe, just maybe, she was overwhelmed by the idea of starting a family. He’d convinced himself it was temporary, something they could work through together.

But then it started happening every time.

Just as he was about to cum inside, she’d flinch, her body tensing as she turned her head sharply, her eyes darting toward some unseen corner of the room. “Do you hear that?” she’d whisper, her voice trembling. “Music. It’s… it’s faint, but it’s there.”

And every time, he’d stop, his patience wearing thinner and thinner. He’d listen, his brow furrowed, but hear nothing. “There’s no music,” he’d say, his voice calm but tinged with frustration. “It’s just us.”

She’d insist, her eyes pleading with him to believe her, but he couldn’t. Not when it kept happening. Not when it felt like she was pulling away from him in the moments they should have been closest.

Nanami was a logical man. He prided himself on his ability to analyze situations, to break them down into manageable parts, and find solutions. But this... this defied logic. He’d run through every possible explanation—stress, fatigue, even the lingering effects of jet lag—but none of them fully accounted for her behavior. And the more it happened, the harder it became to ignore the gnawing doubt in the back of his mind.

Maybe she doesn’t want this. Maybe she doesn’t want kids with me. Maybe she doesn’t want me.

The thought was like a knife to his chest. They’d been together for so long—twelve years of knowing each other, five years of marriage. He’d fought for her, convinced her family to let him marry her, to leave everything behind and build a life with him. He’d never doubted her love before, but now... now he wasn’t so sure.

He didn’t want to believe his intrusive thoughts; he really didn’t.

She loved him, right? She married him.

But then why did this trip feel like he was better off back home than traveling the world with the love of his life?

So next time he hadn't been as kind to her.

“Ken baby,” she’d breathed one night, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. They had been in their hotel room, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Her touch had been warm, familiar, and for a moment, he let himself believe everything was okay.

He’d kissed her deeply, his hands sliding under her thighs to lift her onto the bed from the table he’d been fucking her against. His movements were urgent but reverent, as if he couldn’t believe this was real. He wanted her, wanted this, wanted the future they’d talked about for so long.

But then, as he’d continued to roll his hips, tettering on the edge of her and his own release, his eyes dark with desire, she’d froze.

Her head snapped toward the window, her eyes wide with fear. “Do you hear that?” She’d whispered, voice trembling.

Nanami had stilled, jaw tightening. “Hear what?” he’d asked, tone clipped.

“Music,” she’d said. “It’s… it’s coming from somewhere.”

He’d stared at her, his frustration bubbling over.

“There’s no music,” he’d said flatly, voice tight. “Are you... changing your mind? Is that what this is?”

“What? No!” She’d protested, voice rising. “I heard something, Kento. I’m not lying.”

He’d clenched his jaw and pulled out and away, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “If you’re not ready, just say so. Don’t make up excuses.”

Her eyes had been wide, hurt flashing across her face. “I’m not making anything up! I heard music. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because there’s nothing there!” He’d snapped, voice sharper than he intended. He stood, pacing the room, his frustration boiling over. “If you’re not ready for this, fine. But don’t play games with me.”

She’d stared at him, her chest tightening. “I’m not playing games,” she’d said quietly, voice breaking. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m not lying to you.”

Nanami had sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to take a shower,” he’d muttered.

He’d grabbed his robe and left the room without another word.

She’d sat there, alone and confused, the faint strains of a voice singing her name still echoing in her ears.

Kento didn’t know that was the last time he was ever going to have sex with her.

---

Then, back in Tokyo, small things had began piling up.

She flinched at things he couldn’t see.

"You’re being ridiculous," he said one evening when she refused to step into their dimly lit living room. "It’s just shadows."

"You don’t understand," she whispered.

"You’re right," he snapped, patience thinning. "I don’t."

She recoiled as if struck.

Then she’d begun walking in the night, her side of the bed cold. She claimed she heard music, faint and haunting, like the strains of a sitar playing in another room. Nanami would check the apartment, of course, but there was never anything there.

“It’s stress,” he’d said one evening, his tone gentle but firm. “You’ve been working too hard. Maybe you should take some time off.”

She’d glared at him, her usually warm eyes icy. “You think I’m imagining this?”

“I think you’re exhausted,” he’d replied, reaching for her hand. She’d pulled away.

And then there were the whispers—half-heard murmurs when she thought he wasn’t listening.

She’d started to wake up in the middle of the night, staring at the corner of their bedroom. Sometimes mumbling under her breath, as if answering a question.

The fights started small—her frustration at his refusal to believe her, his exhaustion at her growing paranoia.

But resentment festered like a wound left untreated.

She’d insisted she wasn’t crazy and that something—or someone—was following her.

Nanami, the pragmatist, had suggested therapy. “Just to rule things out,” he’d said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Please, darling. For me.”

She’d agreed, but the sessions only seemed to make things worse.

The therapist diagnosed her with schizophrenia, a word that hung between them like a death sentence.

She stopped going to work, retreating into herself. She spent her days at home, staring out the window or pacing the apartment, her once-vibrant personality dulled to a shadow.

Then the arguments got more frequent.

When he suggested starting medication, she laughed.

It wasn’t a kind laugh.

"You think I’m crazy?"

"I think you need help."

Her lips curled. "Of course you do."

She stopped sleeping beside him.

Stopped talking to him unless necessary.

Work became a distant thing, then a nonexistent one.

Nanami tried to be patient, but the distance between them grew. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing her. The woman he’d married—strong, independent, full of life—was slipping away, replaced by someone he barely recognized.

And one day, he came home to find her in the dark.

---

Nanami had come home to the sound of laughter. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in months, and it stopped him in his tracks.

It had been rich and warm, spilling from her lips like it belonged there.

A weight had lifted from his chest, and for a moment, he allowed himself to hope.

Maybe she’d been getting better. Maybe they’d find their way back to each other. Maybe she’d been finally healing. Maybe—

But as he’d stepped into the living room, his heart sank.

She’d been sitting on the floor, her back to him, knees tucked beneath her, hands gesturing lightly—casual, intimate. Her shoulders had been shaking with laughter as she spoke to someone, voice soft.

Except there had been no one there.

“Darling,” he’d called, his voice trembling.

She’d turned then, still smiling, but the moment she’d seen him, her expression had shifted—a flicker of something unreadable before she’d schooled her features.

Her eyes had still been bright with a joy he hadn’t seen in so long. “Kento. You’re home.” She’d greeted him like he was an afterthought.

He’d forced a smile, though his pulse had thundered in his ears. “Who were you talking to?”

Her expression had faltered, just for a moment. “No one,” she said quickly. “Just… thinking out loud.”

“What was so funny?” he’d pushed.

She hesitated. Then, softly added, "you wouldn’t believe me."

His fists had clenched. "Try me."

Then her eyes had flicked—just slightly—to something over his shoulder.

And that was when he’d felt it.

The air had moved.

A cold breath against the back of his neck.

A presence too close, too real.

He’d turned.

And for the first time in his life, Nanami Kento saw a ghost.

Tall. Pale. Dressed in fine, outdated robes.

Beautiful eyes and hair.

Beautiful white hair and piercing blue eyes.

The man—the prince—was watching him with an unreadable expression.

Like a king appraising a pawn.

Like a conqueror surveying his land.

Nanami’s knees had buckled, and he’d fallen.

His wife had rushed forward, instinct taking over, her hands gripping his face, her touch grounding—alive, but her hands had been cold against his skin.

"Kento—!"

But he wasn’t looking at her.

He’d been looking at him.

And the ghost, Prince Gojo Satoru, had simply smirked.

Like he’d already won.

Nanami had realized then—this wasn’t just madness.

It wasn’t a break, a disorder, a cruel trick of the mind.

She hadn’t been losing herself.

She’d been taken.

And he had let it happen.

The pieces had fallen into place with cruel clarity.

The voice she’d heard in the palace, the laughter, the way she’d become distant—it wasn’t schizophrenia.

It had all been Gojo.

The ghost of a prince who had taken a liking to her, who had followed her home and woven himself into her life.

Nanami felt sick.

He had failed her.

He had dismissed her fears, convinced himself she was ill, when the truth was far more terrifying.

And now he was losing her to a man who wasn’t even alive.

“I’m sorry,” he’d choked out, his voice breaking. “I should have believed you.”

Her face had crumpled, and she’d pulled him into her arms. “It’s not your fault,” she’d whispered. “I didn’t want to believe it either.”

But as they clung to each other, Nanami couldn’t shake the feeling that it was too late.

---

In the weeks that followed, she’d grow weaker, her once-vibrant spirit fading like a dying flame.

Nanami watched helplessly as the woman he loved slipped further and further away, her laughter now a ghostly echo in their empty home.

And in the corner of the room, Gojo watched, his smirk never wavering.

But as he’d sat by her bedside, holding her hand as she slept, he’d make a silent vow. He would find a way to bring her back, even if it meant confronting the dead monarch himself.

After all, love was the only magic he had ever believed in.

Then Nanami had tried everything—doctors, therapists, even a desperate visit to a priestess who had taken one look at him and shaken her head. “There’s nothing I can do,” she’d said. “This is beyond me.”

And now, she was gone.

She died on a quiet morning, as if the universe itself was too ashamed to make a sound.

No violence, no struggle—just silence.

Nanami had left for groceries, and when he returned, the door was ajar.

The air inside was stale, thick, suffocating.

He’d called her name.

No answer.

He found her curled on their bed, her body unnaturally still, her hands resting lightly on her stomach as if she had merely dozed off. Her lips were parted, and for a moment, he swore he saw them move.

But she was cold.

Kento stood there for a long time, unable to move, unable to breathe.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

He shook her once, twice. "Darling."

Her head lolled to the side.

His fingers clenched around her shoulders. "This isn’t funny."

Nothing.

A sound escaped him—raw, broken.

They told him it was heart failure. A tragedy. Sudden. Unexplained.

But he knew better.

The days that followed were a blur.

Nanami moved through them like a ghost himself, his grief a heavy cloak that suffocated him.

He expected to see Gojo’s ghost lurking in the corners of their apartment, taunting him, but the white-haired figure was nowhere to be found. It was as if Gojo had vanished the moment his wife had taken her last breath.

Nanami hated him for it.

Hated him for taking her, for leaving him alone, for existing at all.

But most of all, he hated himself for not being able to save her. For not believing her in time.

The days stretched into weeks. He drifted, weightless, his mind full of echoes.

He stopped speaking to people. Stopped working.

The world became a distant thing, muffled and unreal.

But the pull remained.

---

It was a month after her death when Nanami stood in the shadow of the Mahal, its sandstone walls glowing in the afternoon sun, looming over him like a specter from a past he couldn’t escape. It didn't hold the same allure anymore.

Now, it felt like a tomb.

He didn’t know why he’d come. He hadn’t planned it.

He hadn’t planned on anything at all.

Maybe it was desperation, or maybe it was the faint hope that he could confront Gojo, demand answers, scream at him until his voice gave out.

But deep down, he knew the truth: he was here because he had nowhere else to go.

The palace was empty; no tourists.

Nanami wandered the corridors, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

He found the alcove where it had all begun—the place where he had shared that fateful kiss.

The memory was sharp, painful, and he clenched his fists to keep from breaking down.

There was no sound, no music, only the faint rustle of wind through the palace’s ancient halls. Nanami sank to his knees, his anger giving way to despair. He whispered, his voice cracking. “Why? Why her?”

Still, there was nothing. No ghostly figure, no laughter, no sign that Gojo had ever been there at all.

Nanami felt a surge of frustration.

Had it all been in his head? Had her illness been just that—an illness—and he had been going insane and started seeing it too?

As he sat there, his mind racing, the air got heavy with the scent of eucalyptus and decay, and a faint sound reached his ears.

It was music—soft and haunting, reminiscent of the tunes she had described hearing all those months ago.

But this time, it was accompanied by the gentle jingle of the anklets she’d worn on their wedding day and during Karwachauth ever since.

Nanami’s breath caught in his throat.

He stood, following the sound through the palace’s labyrinthine corridors until he reached a small, hidden chamber.

Inside, the walls were covered in intricate carvings, their details illuminated by the faint light of a single oil lamp.

And there in the center of the room—

She’d looked just as she had in life, her eyes warm and full of love, voice soft. “You shouldn’t have come.”

Nanami stumbled forward, reaching for her, but his hand passed through her like smoke. “Darling,” he choked out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

“What are you talking about?” Nanami demanded, his voice rising. “You didn’t choose this! He took you from me!”

She shook her head, her form beginning to fade.

“No!” Nanami shouted, lunging for her, but she was already gone, the music fading with her.

The next moment, there was nothing.

Only silence. Vast and consuming.

Then—a shimmer in the air, warping the space around it, like heat rising from the desert sand.

A figure materialized.

White hair. Piercing Blue eyes. Pale skin. A presence that did not belong.

Nanami could barely breathe.

Gojo Satoru stood before him, his gaze vacant, his posture relaxed in a way that felt unnatural—like he was here, but also elsewhere. His voice, when it came, was soft. Too soft.

"Why her?"

There was no malice, no satisfaction. Just neutrality. An absence of feeling.

Nanami swallowed, his throat dry. His fingers curled into trembling fists. "You really don’t know, do you, Kento?"

Nanami’s jaw clenched. "Enlighten me."

Gojo tilted his head slightly, as if considering the request. When he spoke, there was no anger, no cruelty—just a simple, unwavering truth.

"You married an Indian woman. Lived with her. Loved her. And yet, you never learned the most basic rule."

The air around them shifted, thick with something rancid. The wind through the broken palace walls carried the scent of decay, of age, of something that did not want to be disturbed.

Gojo’s voice remained even.

"In India, there’s an unspoken rule—one even atheists follow."

The air grew colder.

"You do not show off your women in ruins."

Nanami’s stomach twisted.

Gojo blinked slowly, like a creature that had forgotten how to mimic human expression. "You don’t dress them up and parade them around cemeteries, old buildings, palaces." His voice lowered. "People get possessed. Things follow them home."

Nanami felt his breath leave him.

The memory came back. The moment he lost her.

The way she had laughed in that alcove, her lips swollen from his kisses, her body pressed against his, flushed and breathless. The gold that had glinted at her wrists, her throat, catching the dying sunlight—making her glow. The way her voice, filled with love, with life, carried through the hollow halls of a palace where no living thing should have heard it.

They had looked so blissful.

But now, the memory felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

Because he’d been watching.

“You looked so happy,” Gojo murmured, his voice almost thoughtful. “So in love.”

There was no malice. No regret. No sympathy.

"And I…" Gojo’s voice barely wavered. "I wanted that."

Nanami’s heart threatened to crawl out of his throat.

Gojo blinked, his expression unchanging. "My love left me," he said. "Married another. Her family pushed her into it, and she stayed once she met him. I waited for her. I waited for her to come back."

His head turned slightly, looking out the window, gaze distant. Like he was watching a memory. Like he was watching something only he could see. "She never did."

The stillness in his voice was unbearable.

Nanami’s vision blurred with rage. "So you took mine instead?"

Gojo turned to face him, eyes boring into Nanami's.

His face was still empty. Void of anything human.

"Maybe I did," he said. "Maybe she left. Maybe she came back to me. Maybe you stole her from me in another life. Maybe she chose you. Maybe she didn’t love me as much as I thought. Or maybe—" Gojo exhaled softly. "Maybe I see why she fell in love with you."

Rage coiled in Nanami’s chest. His hands trembled, nails biting into his palms.

Gojo watched him without blinking. Without caring. "After everything I lost—after she left me to marry someone else because her family pushed her into it—I wanted what you had."

Gojo’s voice did not rise. It did not falter.

"So I took it."

Nanami’s body locked up, something primal and violent rising in his chest. His throat burned. His vision swam. His grief was a wildfire, an avalanche, a noose tightening around his own damn throat.

“You’re a monster.”

Gojo continued, reactionless. "Maybe," he admitted.

Then—Gojo’s head tilted ever so slightly.

"But you’re the one who brought her here."

The words slammed into Nanami’s ribcage like a hammer.

"You didn’t protect her," Gojo murmured. "You thought she was insane before you believed her."

The words hit Nanami like he was being set on fire.

Because he knew.

He knew.

Deep down, he knew the truth in them.

He’d been so focused on their future, too confident in logic and reason, on starting a family, that he’d ignored the warnings—both spoken and unspoken—the unease in her eyes, the way her voice had shaken when she begged him to listen, to believe her.

And now she was gone.

He would never see her again.

She had slipped through his fingers like smoke, like an illusion he was never meant to hold onto in the first place.

He stood there, rooted in the ruins of a past that no longer existed, a future that had been severed clean from his grasp.

Gojo did not smile.

He did not mock.

He simply stood there, blank and unfeeling, watching as Nanami shattered into something that could never be put back together.

"Give her back."

Nanami’s voice cracked, raw and desperate.

It was not a demand.

It was a plea.

"Please." His fingers twitched, reaching for something that wasn’t there. "Just give her back."

For the first time, Gojo’s expression shifted. Not in pity. Not in regret.

Just something fleeting. Almost human.

"I can’t."

His voice was quiet. Unshaken. Final.

"She’s not mine to give."

And then he was gone.

No shadow left behind.

No footprints in the dust.

As if he had never been there at all.

And maybe he hadn’t.

Nanami never saw Gojo again.

Not in the palace.

Not anywhere.

And neither did he see her.

Not that day.

Not the next.

Not in the ruins where he had kissed her for the last time.

Not in the house where she had once lived, where the echoes of her voice had turned to silence.

But still, he searched.

Through the palace.

Through the crumbling ruins.

Through the empty villages.

Through the desert, where the sand swallowed footsteps whole.

Through the places where even the ghosts had grown tired of lingering.

But there was nothing.

There had never been anything.

No ghosts.

No answers.

Just silence—cold and unrelenting, stretching on and on until it hollowed him out from the inside.

Or maybe—maybe he had seen her.

Maybe she had whispered to him in the dead of night, her voice curled around his ear like a secret. Maybe he had caught glimpses of her in reflections, in the shimmer of heat rising from the sand, in the spaces between dreams and waking.

Or maybe it had all been in his head.

Maybe she had never been there at all.

The whispers started soon after.

Of the foreigner with blond hair who wandered through the ruins, his steps slow, his gaze hollow.

Of the man who murmured to the crumbling palace walls, who spoke to shadows, who waited for a love that would never return.

At first, people tried to help.

They approached him with cautious kindness.

“Are you lost, sir?”

“Do you have family we can call?”

“Here, drink this—eat something.”

But Nanami did not answer.

Did not acknowledge them.

Did not even seem to hear them at all.

He knew you’d be mad.

You never liked when other women gave him attention.

He would sit in the dust, his fingers tracing invisible patterns into the stone, lips moving in silent conversation.

With whom, no one knew.

And slowly, they learned to leave him alone.

He became part of the ruins themselves.

A figure wrapped in dust and sorrow.

A cautionary tale whispered to children.

"Don’t wander too far, lest you meet the mad foreigner who searches for his dead wife."

The weeks passed. Then the months.

His hair grew long and matted, strands clumping together, dirt and sand tangled in the once-golden locks.

His clothes frayed at the edges, sleeves torn, fabric thinning from exposure to the harsh desert winds.

His face, once sharp with quiet confidence, sank inward—cheekbones too prominent, lips cracked, skin burnt raw by the unrelenting sun.

A living corpse.

The police and NGOs found him once, coaxed him into a rehabilitation center, gave him food, bathed him, handed him clean clothes.

But the moment they turned their backs, he was gone.

He ran.

Back to the palace.

Back to the ruins.

Back to the last place he thought he'd seen her.

He was twenty-seven, but to those who saw him, he was ageless.

A mad saint.

A lost soul.

A pagala baba, dressed in tattered rags, muttering prayers that weren’t prayers—just a name, her name, over and over again.

Still—he walked.

Because maybe, if he searched long enough—

If he wandered through the ruins until his feet bled—

If he kept looking, kept listening, kept believing—

Maybe one day, he would find her again.

Maybe she had just stepped away for a moment.

Maybe she would return.

Maybe one day, he would wake up and she would be beside him.

And the desert, mercifully, swallowed his grief whole.

Because one day—

He disappeared.

No one saw him leave.

No footprints in the sand.

No body was found.

Just gone.

But still—the whispers remained.

At night, when the wind howled through the ruins, when the air was thick with the weight of something unseen—

Some swore they heard it.

A hum.

A laugh.

A faint, lingering strain of music.

Some claimed they saw a figure—tall, blond, beautiful, with kind eyes.

A man, waiting. Searching. Wandering.

Still looking for the love stolen from him.

Still lost in the ruins, long after his body had faded into the sand.

Still hoping—

That maybe, this time, he would find her.

Or maybe he already had.

No one knew.

No one ever would.

But they all agreed on one thing—

That sometimes, in the dead of night, when the desert wind carried the echoes of the past, those who listened closely could hear it—

A faint hum of laughter.

The ghost of a love stolen.

Or the sorrowful strains of music that followed him wherever he went.

A/N: So, my dear readers… how did you like Schizophrenia? No, Just a Rajasthani Prince With No Bitches. Did Nanami ever find her? Did Gojo win? Or did our beloved blond idiot just walk himself into an early grave, Majnu-style? Comment below: 🔘 “They were reunited” (Delusional Romantic)🔘 “Nanami died searching” (Realist Pain Enthusiast)🔘 “Gojo gaslit gatekept girlbossed all of us” (Clown) Let me know which version of suffering you believe in. Your engagement fuels my villain arc. 💀✨

All Works Masterlist

85 notes · View notes

moistvonlipwig · 10 months ago

Text

the ozymandias phone call is a rly interesting moment in breaking bad to me for many reasons but one of the biggest ones imo is the fact that like.....a huge part of walt's abuse of skyler has been making her out to be the bad guy. he continually puts her in a position to look like the 'bitch wife' who is shutting him out for 'no reason' or the 'bitch mom' who is taking away flynn's shiny new car or the woman who 'cheated' on him with ted (nevermind that she had already separated from walt and he was refusing to sign the divorce papers and the 'cheating' was a tactic to get him to do so).

additionally she is an imperfect victim and he damn well knows that and uses that to his advantage multiple times to get her to do what he wants. marie has already slapped her and berated her for her complicity in walt's crimes and she doesn't even really understand the full extent to which skyler helped him. and both walt and skyler know full well that no one from the outside looking in (except perhaps jesse) would ever be able to understand why skyler did what she did even if they knew the whole story. because people don't hold compassion or understanding in their hearts for imperfect victims, which is to say, human victims, because no human is perfect. which is one of the things that can make abuse so isolating for the victims -- the shame they feel about their own actions & the fear of how others will judge them. the reality of the abuse becomes an unspeakable, shameful secret that only the abuser & victim know, so the victim comes to rely on the abuser even more, because at least they know the truth.

so the ozymandias phone call is interesting because in that moment walt makes skyler a perfect victim. for the first time, he makes himself out to be the bad guy (which he undeniably is, but which he has refused to appear to be in front of flynn prior to now). the way he talks to skyler on the phone is both true and a lie; he is sanding down her complexities to feed marie, flynn, & the police an abuse narrative they can understand and sympathize with. the abuse he put skyler through never quite looked like that phone call, which is how skyler knows he's putting on an act, but he did abuse her, and in this moment, despite its performative and dishonest nature, he is also, paradoxically, being finally honest and admitting what he did to her, and letting the other people in their lives see their dynamic for what it was. it doesn't heal the wounds he inflicted on skyler, it doesn't absolve him of what he did to her, it probably doesn't even make it easier for her to talk to anyone about what he did to her -- but he speaks aloud the truth he had previously made unspeakable, and he makes it clear, at least to the people who love her, that she was not the bad guy. she never was.

#rotating brba 5.14 ozymandias in my mind......#breaking bad #bacon bad #i am the one who knocks #someone has to protect this family #walter white #skyler white

201 notes · View notes

youremyheaven · 1 year ago

Text

Punarvasu & Swati: Cosmogony, Reality & Consciousness

Punarvasu and Swati are deeply intertwined nakshatras with very similar patterns and themes. Punarvasu's deity Goddess Aditi embodies infinity and vast primordial space. She is boundless and limitless. Swati's deity Vayu is the ruler of air & wind and connected to the life force or prana (or qi).

Both these nakshatras connect to space, infinity, abundance and are known for being wealth giving nakshatras.

Ruth Handler, the inventor of Barbie had Swati Sun & Mercury along with Ketu in Punarvasu

Margot Robbie who played Barbie has Swati Moon & Punarvasu Rising

I had briefly mentioned this in my Tomie post but Swati & Punarvasu's themes are manifest in Barbie because Barbie is not a person, she is a type of doll, and she can be anyone or anything. Barbie is a whole universe into herself, this is the cosmic abundance and infinitude of Swati & Punarvasu.

My Tomie post also talks about how Tomie is a Punarvasu so do check that out!!

I have always thought that Punarvasu & Swati are related to time travel which makes sense provided the cosmic infinitude embodied in these naks.

Predestination, a time- travel movie starring Ethan Hawke who is Swati Sun (do watch it, its really good))

Bruce Willis has been in several time-travel movies, including 12 Monkeys & Looper. He has Jupiter in Punarvasu atmakaraka

The 1960 movie The Time Machine stars Rod Taylor who has Ketu in Swati.

The Terminator movies starring Arnold Schwarzenegger- Punarvasu stellium (mercury, venus & rising). Arnold like many Punarvasus have been in many sci-fi movies that concern the nature of reality, in fact his own autobiography is called Total Recall (he's been in a movie of the same name and its about what is real and what isn't- peak Punarvasu behaviour I must say)

Planet of the Apes stars Charlton Heston who has Punarvasu Moon, Swati Rising

Frequency stars Dennis Quaid who has Punarvasu Moon & Ketu

The Matrix/ The Lake House/Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure are all time travel movies starring Keanu Reeves who is Punarvasu Moon.

Its interesting to me that many Punarvasus have often spoken about "creating your reality".

Octavia Butler, the writer has Punarvasu Rising (the themes of this nak is vv apparent in her work but I'll perhaps discuss that in a future post) and this^^ is a page from her journal that she wrote in the 1970s wayyy before manifestation was a "thing".

Butler grew up very poor in an era of racial segregation and suffered from dyslexia. She overcame great odds to become one of the best-selling sci-fi novelists of all time.

Miranda Kerr- Punarvasu Moon often talks about the power of our thoughts and has referenced writers like David R Hawkins (who talks about the nature of consciousness) a lot. Here's a quote from her book.

“Start each day by saying to yourself: ‘How amazing it is to be alive! What a wondrous feeling I have inside! I am awake, healthy and full of joy!’ Visualise every cell in your body being filled with vitality, health and love.”- Treasure Yourself

Miranda grew up quite lower middle class on a farm in rural Australia and then went on to become one of the best known models in the world and is now married to a billionaire.

Arnold Schwarzenegger- Punarvasu Rising (and stellium)

If you've read his autobiography or watched his Netflix documentary yk that he talks constantly about the power of the mind, having focus etc

He grew up in a small town in Austria (after WW2) with an abusive father and also suffered from dyslexia. He then went on to become one of the biggest movie stars of all time and was the Governor of California???

Ariana Grande- Mercury in Punarvasu sings about manifestation and law of attraction quite a lot. She was a side character on a Nickelodeon show and 10yrs later she's one of the biggest pop- stars.

Nikola Tesla, Punarvasu Sun & Venus

Tesla discovered automatic current transmission & generation technology which is responsible for modern day wireless connections. He's also super Punarvasu core as a person, he had eidetic memory, apparently did not sleep more than 2 hours per night, was interested in Vedic cosmology & philosophy (he used terms like akasha & prana to describe the relationship between matter & energy). I find this quote by him very interesting, "To me, the universe is simply a great machine which never came into being and never will end". I personally don't believe in the Big Bang theory and I'm inclined to believe that the universe has always existed instead of having come into existence at one point, which imo, is a very anthropocentric idea. Tesla's quote is a reflection of the boundless nature of Aditi, who is the cosmic mother, she embodies creation.

fun fact: Elon Musk who named Tesla after him is Punarvasu Mercury & Rising.

Interestingly enough, several decades before the Big Bang theory gained mainstream acceptance and was studied by scientists, Edgar Allan Poe published a lecture/essay on the matter titled Eureka: A Prose Poem in 1848 (!!!!). He had Swati Rising

Can you believe that he, a man with zero scientific background essentially came up with ideas that would serve as the basis of 20th century scientific discoveries & theories??? That too in 1848???

Analysis of Eureka's scientific content shows congruities with modern cosmology, stemming from Poe's assumption of an evolving Universe and it also contains ideas about the unity of space and time, the mathematical equality of matter and energy, the velocity of light and a rudimentary concept of relativity, black holes (including one at the centre of our Milky Way), a "pulsating" universe that renews itself eternally, and other universes in other dimensions with different laws of nature.

A writer & poet who dropped out of college came up with all that in 1848. Swatis & Punarvasus have the ability to understand complex concepts, systems, and processes intuitively. This is why they are so good at analysis, strategy and planning. They have a futuristic vision because its easy for them to see how current events will affect other things and manifest in the future. Those who don't have these placements will struggle to understand what this is like because most of us aren't endowed with this sort of ability to see the trees and the forest all at once.

Interestingly, the scientist Georges Lemaître who first proposed the "Big Bang theory" of the origin of the universe, calling it the "hypothesis of the primaeval atom", and later calling it "the beginning of the world" is a Punarvasu Sun.

Leonardo da Vinci is known for his foresight and is considered a visionary. He, in the 15th & 16th centuries, pondered upon the possibilities of human flight and left behind diagrams and models of the helicopter, the parachute, the machine gun, the humanoid robot, the revolving bridge, the ideal city and much more. He had Ketu in Punarvasu.

Carl Jung created some of the best-known psychological concepts, including synchronicity, archetypal phenomena, the collective unconscious, the psychological complex, and extraversion and introversion. He had Punarvasu Mercury & Venus and it explains why there was such a heavy emphasis on "darkness" vs "light" in his work (Punarvasu being "the return of the light").

He is the father of Analytical Psychology which seeks to "analyze the relationship between a person's individual consciousness and the deeper common structures which underlie them. Personal experiences both activate archetypes in the mind and give them meaning and substance for the individual. At the same time, archetypes covertly organize human experience and memory, their powerful effects becoming apparent only indirectly and in retrospect. Understanding the power of the collective unconscious can help an individual to navigate through life."

In fact, vedic astrology (Jung did use astrology as well btw) serves as a very interesting way to explore the collective unconscious and the many archetypes that are manifest in individuals possessing them.

I will make a post in the future comparing Freud & Jung and how their different astrological placements contributed to their similar but differing views.

George Orwell, who was a fierce critic of totalitarianism had Swati Rising, if you read his works, you can see how he's able to analyse the effects and consequences of the same, especially 1984 which was sooo ahead of its time in the sense that much of what was written in the book is eerily similar to what's going on in the world right now. The novel examines the role of truth and facts within societies and how they can be manipulated.

Swatis & Punarvasus are super Futuristic, as individuals or visionaries as well as in their art & work. They dominate in the surreal/scifi genre.

Robin Williams- Swati Rising stars as an android in Bicentennial Man which is a movie about a robot who learns how to be human. Transcending humanity is a big theme in the works of Swati natives.

On this note, I have noticed several Swati & Punarvasu natives star in movies featuring/about cloning 👀 This does not surprise me as I had already mentioned this in my Tomie post but it is fascinating how Swati & Punarvasu's ability to be many many versions of themselves is made manifest in this trope of clones.

I have to mention how both Rahu & Jupiter have a very boundless, obese energy that is hard to contain. This can be manifest negatively because its very easy for energy of this proportion to be misused and misdirected but when they're harnessed positively, these individuals are capable of envisioning change that have few/no other parallels.

Moon (2009) is a movie that features the main character and his clones. Sam Rockwell, Swati Sun plays the main character.

Tom Cruise, Punarvasu moon (acc to Claire Nakti) stars in Oblivion and plays a clone of himself. One version of him is good, his "clone" is evil. The battle between good & evil within oneself is a VERY Jupiterian trope (and I shall make a post solely about that in the near future).

Multiplicity is a 90s scifi-comedy about a guy who clones himself so that he can do all the things he wants to do. Michael Keaton who plays the protagonist has Swati Moon

The Sixth Day is a movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger (Punarvasu stellium) and it is about cloning. The title is a reference to the Abrahamic Genesis concept of how God created mankind on the sixth day.

This in itself is very interesting because Punarvasu is the 7th nakshatra and in the Bible, it is said "And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation."

7 is a number that has profound spiritual meaning and is present in many religions as a figure of significance. From this verse taken from the Book of Genesis, it is interesting to note that ""7" is the culmination of creation. It is the day on which God rested because he had already created. It is not nothingness, it is the day on which everything already existed. This is a significant Punarvasu theme.

Replicas stars Keanu Reeves (Punarvasu Moon) as a neuroscientist who tries to revive his deceased family members by cloning them.

Its interesting how in these films, natives appear either as a clone or as the ones who do the cloning, furthermore connecting it back to Punarvasu's creation trope.

Harrison Ford, Punarvasu sun & moon stars as in and as the Blade Runner (1982) where he must "pursue and terminate four replicants who stole a ship in space and have returned to Earth to find their creator."

David Cronenberg is a director best known for making really weird, surreal, futuristic movies that heavily feature themes related to the nature of reality, consciousness etc

He is a Punarvasu Moon & Jupiter

Gakuryu Ishii, Punarvasu Moon is another filmmaker who makes movies that heavily centre around truth, reality, consciousness, the future etc.

I recommend his movie Mirrored Mind which heavily deals with identity, consciousness etc (its vaguely reminiscent of Perfect Blue)

Robert de Niro Punarvasu Rising, stars in the movie Awakenings (based on a true story) as a catatonic patient who has an "awakening" before tragically going back into catatonia, Robin Williams, Swati Rising stars as the doctor who administers a drug that induces this awakening.

In Vedic philosophy, there are 3 gunas, Rajas, Tamas & Sattva.

Tamas is a state of darkness, inertia, inactivity,

Rajas is a state of energy, action, change, and movement.

Sattva is a state of harmony, balance, joy, and intelligence.

Punarvasu belongs to the Rajas guna whereas Swati belongs to Tamas guna.

Tamas can be described as a state of statis or stagnation as there is no transformation and thus no change. Punarvasu natives are prone to passivity and it is only when they face their own destructive shadow, do they emerge out of passivity to their natural state of Rajas. In this movie, Deniro's experience where he emerges from his catatonia with a desire for freedom and to live life to the fullest before eventually accepting the fact that his condition cannot be remedied inspires the Doctor played by Robin Williams to emerge out of his own shell and live life more fully.

Punarvasus are often restricted by situations beyond their control yet they are possessed by a yearning to live life to the fullest. Swatis often have unmeasured freedom and do not know how to utilize it, they are restricted by their own character.

The Gaia Hypothesis proposed by James Lovelock (1972) suggests that living organisms on the planet interact with their surrounding inorganic environment to form a synergetic and self-regulating system that created, and now maintains, the climate and biochemical conditions that make life on Earth possible.

It is a holistic view, which is generally not appreciated in science that likes to favour randomness, chance or whatever instead of the innate harmony and union behind creation.

James Lovelock has Punarvasu moon & Swati rising

Lynn Margulis who co-developed this theory with him most likely has Revati Moon and I will be exploring her symbiotic view of evolution on a different post as it goes beyond the scope of this one.

Edit: as @brundlefly333 pointed out, the French philosopher Henri Bergson (Punarvasu Moon) has a book called Creative Evolution which extrapolates that whilst "evolution of species can come from external factors "like natural selection", it most importantly (comes) from an internal impulse (a creative force). This creative force is inherently unpredictable and non-linear, leading to the emergence of novelty and complexity in living organisms over time.

I find his "Cone of Memory" (depicted above) hypothesis very fascinating.

The Cone of Memory model can be imagined as an inverted cone, with the apex representing the present moment, the base symbolizing the entirety of one’s past experiences, and the cone’s vertical axis signifying the flow of time. As the present moment progresses, the apex of the cone moves upward along the axis, continuously stretching the cone outward as it incorporates new experiences and memories into a person’s consciousness. The memories from our past experiences are layered into the cone, with the most recent memories residing closer to the apex and older memories located further down, towards the base.

Bergson’s model emphasizes the active role of individual perception, memory, and experience in shaping one’s consciousness. The human mind, as depicted by Bergson, interacts with the objective world while drawing from its accumulated memories to create individual experiences in real time. The Cone of Memory focuses on the dynamic interplay between perception, memory, and experience, hoping to account for the generation of novel understandings and interpretations of reality.

Bergson’s emphasis on experience at the personal level also has significant implications for how we understand the self. In his view, the self is not a static entity but rather a constantly developing process, shaped by the dynamic interplay of perception, memory, and experience. This more fluid conception of the self contrasts sharply with many traditional notions of a fixed, unchanging identity. It also invites us to recognize the transformative power of our own experiences and encounters in the continuous interweaving of the past and present in our temporal consciousness.

It can be summed up with this quote:

"To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly"- Henri Bergson

Rudolf Steiner- Ketu in Punarvasu, Swati rising

Steiner's breadth of work encompasses many fields, he pioneered modern-day organic farming, anthroposophical medicine (what we call alternate medicine including homeopathy, massages and frequency work etc rooted in the human body's ability to heal itself) invented the Waldorf education system (alternative schooling) and tried to merge science and spirituality.

All of this is vvv Punarvasu & Swati coded because its these natives who are frequently drawn to non-traditional systems of thought & experience and also merging a vast variety of techniques + being well versed in a lot of different fields etc comes down to having the inner space to hold all of it. This is literally not something most other people can do. Pursuit of knowledge can easily drain/deplete people but Punarvasu & Swati natives have a boundless thirst for knowledge and innately understand the profound truth that everything is connected.

Symbiosis, synergy, syncretism etc are all themes prominent in the works of Swati & Punarvasu natives who tend to view things as a coherent whole and not separate from one another; everything in creation exists to serve one another and exist in perfect harmony. Its not by "accident" that human beings took shape on earth where all the elements exist to continually support human life, every tiny detail is manifest in divine perfection and it helps us understand that we are a part of a larger system and that what we do affects changes at both the micro and macro level.

"Synergetics is the empirical study of systems in transformation, with an emphasis on whole system behaviours unpredicted by the behaviour of any components in isolation. R. Buckminster Fuller (1895–1983) named and pioneered the field. His two-volume work Synergetics: Explorations in the Geometry of Thinking."

Buckminster Fuller had Punarvasu sun & jupiter

I think I had made a post about how Punarvasu natives tend to make geometric art that features repetitive patterns and motifs. I thought Fuller's use of the term "Geometry of Thinking" was very Punarvasu of him.

Pls look him up and his work, its very interesting and if you have Punarvasu placements you might find things you resonate with. I dont want to make this post any longer so I'm not including more of his work although all of it really fits with the theme tbh.

Amartya Sen, the Indian economist and philosopher has Swati Sun, he is best known for his contributions to welfare economics, social choice theory, and development economics. His work incorporates the same holistic view of how everything exists in close interaction with everything else, interconnectedness as well as an all encompassing-ness are themes that dominate his work. Society affects the market, the market affects society, all of this affects interpersonal relationships, it takes a Swati/Punarvasu native to deeply embody this sentiment in their thought/work.

George Harrison aka the Spiritual Beatle had Swati moon, Jupiter in punarvasu amatyakaraka.

"It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one."

This quote by him really sums it up.

Robert A Heinlein had Punarvasu sun, jupiter and rahu

Heinlein used his science fiction as a way to explore provocative social and political ideas and to speculate how progress in science and engineering might shape the future of politics, race, religion, and sex. Within the framework of his science-fiction stories, Heinlein repeatedly addressed certain social themes: the importance of individual liberty and self-reliance, the nature of sexual relationships, the obligation individuals owe to their societies, the influence of organized religion on culture and government, and the tendency of society to repress nonconformist thought. He also speculated on the influence of space travel on human cultural practices.

This is yet another example of the interconnectedness of Punarvasu as well as the analytical nature of these natives.

I will end this post here because I've been rambling for too long but I hope this was informative!! Apologies that this was kinda science heavy and not very pop culture centric :/

#vedic astro notes #astrology observations #sidereal astrology #vedic astrology #nakshatras #astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astrology notes #astroblr #Punarvasu #swati #Jupiter #rahu #carl jung #Freud

369 notes · View notes

aishnico · 8 months ago

Note

hi ahh could I req a smut fic abt chris cornell where him and reader have just come back from their first date and unexpectedly get in a sexual situation? Theyre both a little nervous but ease each other through it? There's no content for him here and you're an amazing writer so I was so glad when I saw you write for him :0

But no worries if you can't!!! Have a great day/night!!

#𝘾𝙃𝙍𝙄𝙎 𝘾𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙇𝙇: 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

» summary: after a date with an unpleased surprise in the end, your new boyfriend invites you to his house to watch a movie. suprisingly things end somewhere else :)

» word count: 2.5k

» warnings: little bit of fluff at the beginning, smut [unprotected sex, kinda size kink idk(?), pulling out], grammar issues

» a/n: thank you for your kind words, hope you’ll like it 🥹💞

“i’m sorry things turned out this way.” your boyfriend, chris was looking for his apartment keys in a rush. neither of you expected to get into a heavy rain just ten minutes ago. chris, just like the polite gentleman he is, immediately took off his large leather jacket and covered your head with it. sadly, his gorgeous long, curly dark brown hair was messy and tangled now. you were feeling guilty but he was shushing you in response. and here you two were, in front of his house. luckily for you, his house was close.

“no no, i should be the one apologizing.” you bowed your head and chris opened the door, inviting you inside first. “you’re soaked and your hair is ruined.”

“hey, i thought we talked about this. don’t blame yourself for this. it was my choice.” he smiled and pinched your cheek playfully.

“but i don’t want you to be sick because of me.” you sighed and sat on the couch, covering your face with your hands. chris chuckled at his sight and kneeled in front of you. he gently grabbed your hands and moved them aside. “how about if i take a shower, make tea for ourselves, and snuggle on the couch while watching a movie, hm?”

“oh my god, it sounds perfect! and like a second date.” he managed to cheer you up like this and gave you a quick peck on your forehead before standing up. “and, can i at least make tea?” it’s not that he could resist your sad puppy eyes, so he nodded. “you sure you can manage this? you can just wait for me.”

“god… will you just let me do something for you?” you huffed and he chuckled again.

“i won’t be there too long, meanwhile you can choose the movie.”

“fine, but not complaining.” you grinned.

“i don’t promise anything!” he shouted before entering the bathroom. you rolled your eyes playfully and decided to wander around the room to kill some time. his black gibson guitar standing next to the square tv, his vintage record player seems kind of dusty, vinyls of various bands look unorganized…

you found a box full of movie dvds under the tv. they were dusty too, so you assumed he doesn’t really watch them. most of them were action movies like ‘terminator’, ‘die hard’, ‘indiana jones’… however you wanted to watch something funny to become more intimate with him. just when you decided to pick ‘bill & ted’s excellent adventure’ you found something better, at least it was better for you.

after placing the dvd on its player, you made your way to the kitchen.

“‘the lost boys’? really?!”

“there’s nothing wrong with ‘the lost boys’!”

chris sighed loud while sitting cross-legged on the couch. his face fell and turned his head away.

“oh my god, chris… what could have happened that you have a beef with a movie?” you placed the warm teas on the table. then sat next to him with a slight pout.

“it’s not that i have a beef, it’s just… i think it’s for teenage girls. only they can gush about a couple of handsome vampires.”

“excuse me? you take that back! i’m in my twenties and i still love them, even my mom does!”

“oh, um…” he cleared his throat in embarrassment. “then yeah i do.”

“that’s way more like it.” you giggled and pressed the play button.

it’s been years since you’ve watched that movie, so you were glad you had the chance to watch it again. even though chris wasn’t pleased with it at first, you caught him grin and even laugh a few times. mostly when songs that he liked started to play. even so, you two were comfortable and having fun. the rain accident was already forgotten. and when everything seemed amusing, you were wrong.

oh.

oh…

the sex scene between michael and star… you totally forgot about it.

it’s not that it’s disturbing or uncomfortable, you were adults after all. it meant nothing. but watching it with your new boyfriend…

he wasn’t looking at you nor you were looking at him. you couldn’t keep focusing because of your increasing body temperature and the strange tension between you two. suddenly, you felt his gaze on you. what were you supposed to do?

you finally met his gaze when he put his hand on top of yours. his piercing light blue eyes made you swallow, the movie was already forgotten.

“you seem uncomfortable, do you want to turn off the movie?”

“no-no!” you laughed awkwardly. “it’s okay, i’m not watching a sex scene for the first time.” god, you just wanted to be buried deep at that moment.

“we can watch 'beetlejuice' or something like that.” his concerned voice was going to kill you just right there.

“i’m fine,” you reassured him by giving him a quick peck on his lips. however, your mind couldn’t be concentrated after the simple peck, neither his.

his hand was still holding yours, and you started to caress his hand. he wasn’t looking at you but he was doing the same thing. this stupid thing continued until you kissed him again, a little bit longer than before that. and just when you wanted to pull off, he didn’t let you by placing his free hand behind your head and pulling you closer to him.

at first, you were exploring each other’s lips slowly but deeply. his mustache was tickling you, which made you giggle through the kiss. you freed your busy hand from his and placed both of your hands on his pale cheeks, caressing them this time. the air was thick, so the tension between you two. but there was no rush.

you moaned quietly when he suddenly bit your lower lip, which made you open your mouth fully. he didn’t waste time to enter his tongue inside your mouth. he lifted you from your place and made you sit on his lap while sucking harshly on your lip. it was quite hard to catch up on his movements, but when you started to do the same thing he hummed, satisfied.

eventually, he had to pull off to catch his breath. both hearts beating fast as ever. chris wasn’t the first boy you’ve ever kissed but you could definitely say that he’s the most talented among them. just when you leaned on his lips he stopped you.

“i’m afraid if we keep making out like that, things might end somewhere else.” he joked, but not to mention his slightly grown bulge underneath you.

“and what if i also want that?” you teased him and wrapped your arms around his neck, shifting on his lap to feel more of him.

“do you, really?” he asked with a teasing tone.

“i’m dead serious, chris. i want you, i want all of you.”

“look, i’m not forcing you into anything, okay? i mean it’s our first date after all.”

“chris, i want to do this and i know 100% that i’m not going to regret it, ever.” you reassured him and pressed your forehead against his. he breathed heavily and then nodded. he wrapped his hands around you before lifting you and making his way to his bedroom.

he gently placed you on top of his bed. you opened your arms wide, inviting him to your bosom. he smiled like an idiot, then laid on top of you without putting his whole weight on you. your hands started to play with his gorgeous hair before connecting your lips with his. chris was giving you deep but sensual kisses just like minutes ago. your breath itched every time you felt his mustache press firmly against your lips.

your body temperature was increasing nonstop since that sex scene, so you slightly pushed him to take off your shirt, then shoved it aside. chris grinned at the sight underneath him and he did the same thing, making eye contact with you. you rubbed your legs together, slightly getting impatient. he noticed then leaned close to you.

“mind if i take it off?” he asked while playing the laces of your bra. you nodded then arched your back to give him access. his fingers unhooked your bra in seconds like an expert. after undressing your upper body, he pressed your body against the bed and brushed his lips on your neck oh so slowly…

you gasped loudly and threw your head backward to give him more access. he started his movements by giving quick pecks here and there, then when he discovered your most sensitive place, he started to suck on that spot meanwhile his left hand traveled across your torso, caressing and drawing circles. then lifted his hand to play with your left boob. slender fingers continued to draw circles and pinch your sensitive nipples. this made you whine unconsciously.

after painting your neck with red and purple marks, he took your left nipple inside his hot mouth and continued his slow, sucking movements. you couldn’t stop whining when his right hand reached your right nipple and continued to play. the pleasure was too much, and you didn’t know he was more willing to give you more.

“chris…” you pulled his hair, making him groan and send you vibrations against your chest.

“you okay, sweetheart?” he asked you, dazed, while panting.

“yes, but i can’t wait anymore. i want you so bad…” you didn’t care how desperate you sounded, all you wanted was to feel him inside.

“oh, is that so? i was planning to eat you out though.”

“mhmm, next time please~” how could he ever resist his cute girlfriend?

he shifted in his place and unbuckled the belt of your jeans. after tossing your belt to the ground and unbuttoning your jeans, he held the corners of them and pulled them off with your already-soaked panties, embarrassment hit you at that moment. he chuckled at your reaction.

“no need to be embarrassed about it, baby. in fact, i appreciate that.”

he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them aside before climbing on top of you. the sight of his painfully hard cock made you throb but at the same time feel a little bit scared. were you even able to take him..?

it’s like he read your mind, he started to reassure you. “we can stop if you want.” his hand reached to your cheek and caressed it. you leaned on his touch but shook your head as no. “no, it’s just… you’re so big. i’m not sure if i can take you.”

“okay, how about just the tip? do you want to try?”

you softly nodded. “okay, let’s try.”

chris smiled sweetly as he planted a loving kiss on your lips before getting between your legs. he held your right hand and intertwined it with his. he pumped himself a couple of times before pushing his leaking tip inside of you slowly. both of you hissed and gasped loudly, squeezing each other’s hands tightly.

like he said, he just pushed his tip and stayed like that while peppering your face with quick sloppy kisses to ease your pain. however, your clenching tight walls weren’t helping him to relax, almost don’t let him enter inside you any further. you weren’t a virgin, but how could you be so damn tight? “baby, you’re squeezing me too hard.” he groaned lowly.

“i c-can’t help it, let me adjust you.” you pulled him with your free hand by holding his tense shoulder. massaging and caressing his shoulder and back to make him relax a little bit.

when you started to feel relaxed, you tapped his shoulder. “you can go further inside me now, chris.”

“are you sure?” he asked worriedly, making you nod desperately. “tell me if it hurts, okay? i’ll immediately stop.”

“i will.” you moaned when you felt him pushing deeper inside your needy cunt. his movements were still slow, afraid to hurt you. however, your already slick-covered walls were helping to move in and out of you with ease.

“that’s it, sweetheart. you’re taking me so well.” he groaned while increasing his pace and you just whined in response. his cock hitting the spots over and over where your fingers could’ve never reached, nor somebody else’s dick. you dig your nails at his back, scratching it while he shoves his hips faster into yours. you wrapped your legs around his torso as his thick cock continued to split you open over and over.

“chris, chris! feel so good oh my god~” it was like you were already drunk on him like he was on you. your words made him get even bigger inside of you. his mouth fell agape, trying to say what was on his mind.

“oh baby, never have felt so much pleasure with someone else before you. h-hah, you’re making me loose my mind.” at this point you weren’t listening to him. not that you didn’t want to, you were just already lost in pleasure. eyes rolling back, your juices dripping down on his shaft unstoppable. everything was too much, you just needed to release all of it.

and when he hit that sweet spot, you gasped loudly. “chris!” you cried out his name, throwing your head back.

“got it.” he continued to hit that spot over and over, meanwhile rubbing your puffy clit with his long, skilled fingers. you pushed your hips to meet with his thrusts. your orgasm was approaching and you could explode at any minute.

“gonna cum!” you cried while rubbing and pinching your hard nipple. your vision is blurry and you feel that knot tighten in your belly. a scream leaving your lips as your legs shake as you finally came undone, your clit pulsing nonstop.

“shit, i’m close too baby.” he grunted then suddenly pulled off, you gasped at his movement, and wanted to feel him inside of you more. he wrapped his hand around his shaft and then jerked off a couple of times before cumming on your tummy, thick and warm sprouts of cum covering your belly.

he was panting, trying to calm his heartbeat at the same time. you gazed at him with lazy eyes. his long hair got messed again, covering some parts of his face. face and torso are covered in sweat, making them look shiny, chest lifting heavily up and down. gosh… he was looking like one of the greek gods. how can a person look majestic in any form?

he planted a quick kiss on top of your forehead before reaching for the towels on the nightstand, cleaning the mess he created on your body.

“you okay, sweetheart? need anything?”

your eyes were almost shut, wanted to do nothing but sleep beside him. “mhm, just you.”

he chuckled at how cute you were looking, then laid next to your side. you removed his hair aside to look at his handsome face properly before sleeping.

“you’re not my first, but i definitely want you to be my last.” you murmured while snuggling to his sweaty body. he smiled, and kissed your forehead again sloppily. “me too, sweetheart. i love you.”

a loud yawn escaped from your lips before drifting off to sleep. “i love you too.” he wrapped his arms around you and then joined you in sleep. last thing you thought about was the cups of tea that were still standing on the table.

#chris cornell #chris cornell x reader #soundgarden #soundgarden x reader #audioslave #audioslave x reader #grunge #grunge x reader #90s #90s rock #chris cornell smut #chris cornell fluff #the lost boys #louder than love #superunknown #badmotorfinger #down on the upside #fanfiction

98 notes · View notes