#or are aware of the general concept of these books

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 13. Tainted by instinct

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: fluff, angst, a bit of smut

— WORDCOUNT: 3.3k

— A/N: I'm baaaack! I'm sorry for not writing for the longest time, my dears. I went through a bit of a writer's block and work and life didn't help either, but I finally pulled myself together 😂 I do want to finish this story. This is more of a contemplative chapter, but I hope you will enjoy it anyway ❤️ Thank you for being so patient! 😘

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu @wo-ming-bai @torossosebs

Before us, all methods of learning were tainted by instinct. Before us, instinct-ridden researchers possessed a limited attention span — often no longer than a single lifetime. Projects stretching across fifty or more generations never occurred to them. The concept of total muscle/nerve training had not entered their awareness. We learned how to learn. — Bene Gesserit Azhar Book

It disturbed her how comfortable she was beginning to find mornings with Feyd-Rautha. And if she felt safe and cool and protected in his arms, appreciated for her mere human presence, how must he have felt after so many weeks together…? He already felt comfortable enough to confess that he dreamed of her, which not any man would do. But Feyd wasn’t just any man.

She turned in his arms and looked at him while he was sleeping. His body was starkly pale against the black Harkonnen sheets, reminding her of just how vulnerable he was. His body may’ve had the soft curves of muscles on his shoulders and his arms, his strong thighs, his stomach toned and firm, and a blade was as deadly in his hands as a Lasgun in the arms of a Sardaukar, but he was just a little boy. His lips were softly pouting in sleep, his brow was smooth and slightly damp with sweat. She found herself wishing now more than ever that he had hair so that she could run her fingers through it.

And as if he felt her thoughts, he smiled and peeked one eye open.

“I knew it,” he muttered sleepily, then closed his eyes again and stretched in his distinctive, feline way. “What are you doing?”

“You said you knew,” she smirked.

“Cheeky witch.”

He ended his stretch by casting an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, burying his face against her chest. He didn’t do it as the prelude to anything, she somehow knew that. He was just resting against her and taking comfort in the beating of her heart.

“You were watching me sleep,” he mumbled. “Like some sort of predator.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I don’t mind… As long as I’m your only prey.”

She laughed softly. “Somehow, I doubt you’ve ever been anybody’s prey.”

“You’d be surprised.”

She embraced him loosely and traced his spine with the tips of her fingers. It made him shiver and purr. He wrapped a leg around her waist and pulled himself even more deeply into her. He was such a classic example of a motherless boy, he may well have been in a Bene Gesserit textbook on the topic. The memory of her lessons made her shiver too, but less pleasantly than Feyd did… Her instincts told her to use her knowledge and mould him to her needs, and breaking herself away from those teachings was harder than she anticipated. There was, if she were honest, a certain amount of guilt associated with putting them aside while she was with him. She felt like a traitor. Her rational mind told her this was by design, but it didn’t make it easier. She asked herself — where was her will in all of this? With the Bene Gesserit teachings on the one side and Feyd’s desires on the other, where did she stand?

The more she lingered on this question, the greater a sense of anger grew. Ever since childhood, she’d been taught to think in a certain way, to speak a certain way, to move a certain way, and until she went back out into the world she never questioned it. She still hardly questioned it, or was just beginning to… The teachings of the Bene Gesserits were, for the longest time, the only ones to live by. Crashing upon the open universe through her experiences had been a slow and persistent shock that continued even as she lay quietly in Feyd’s arms. She wondered how different her life might’ve been if raised under different circumstances, by different people… By people who cared about her.

And she realised Feyd wasn’t that much different either. Whatever kind of life he’d had on his home planet, the Baron had taken that away from him, moulded him the way she too was moulded, if in a different direction. He wasn’t his own person, either. She wondered if that made him angry too. She wondered if he planned to do anything about it. She wondered, most deeply and ardently, if he wanted to.

A heaviness built up behind her eyes, tears of mourning for a wasted life, and her first reflex was to bury this useless feeling. What purpose could tears possibly serve — so taught the Bene Gesserits — if not used for manipulation? And on Arrakis, wasting tears was a kind of profanity. But beneath the veil of all these rules and traditions, the small, hard kernel of herself defied them all. She had a right to mourn herself if she wanted to, and she had a right to mourn Feyd’s wasted life, too. She held him more tightly and buried her face into his neck as if being absorbed into his being would rescue her.

“Hmmm… Thinking again,” he mumbled — a statement, not a question. Still, he held her close, his big palm cupping the back of her head.

“I don’t want to play that game anymore,” she said, not hiding how morose she was.

“Which one?”

“Predator and prey.”

“You know I was only jesting…”

“But you weren’t. There was a truth to it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said it.”

He pulled back and looked at her. She could feel his hot gaze on her even though she kept her eyes closed, her cheek flush with his naked chest.

“What is this about?”

“You are right about more things than you realise,” she sighed. “You’re just not used to speaking them with the gravity they deserve.”

“And you aren’t used to giving me a straight answer.” He was fully awake now though, with cold clarity in his eyes as he scowled at her.

She traced her fingers up his spine until she reached the back of his head, where the softness of muscle was replaced by the hard bone of his skull.

“I don’t think I dare give you straight answers,” she confessed. “You’re not used to hearing them. You wouldn’t believe them.”

“Try me.”

“No,” she said, and braved the growl that came out of him. For the product of a hyperindustrialised planet, he had such pure savagery in him. “I’ll tell you when you’re ready.”

“And you think you know my mind better than me?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a Bene Gesserit if I didn’t,” she smirked.

Feyd didn’t find that very amusing, but he went back to nuzzling her throat. She scratched his scalp gently as a reward, drawing senseless circles until he purred again.

When the sun started to heat the room and sounds reached them from the castle corridors of the servants beginning their day and the changing of the guards, they finally disentangled themselves from one another and got up. She helped dress him and freshened up the inking on his teeth, and without asking he helped her dress as well. His hands wandered, fingers pulling clumsily at the laces, tying them a bit too tightly. She wondered if he was being bad at it on purpose.

“So you want to spend the whole morning fussing with this, do you?” she asked, placing her hands on his to stop the messy knot he was making.

“Oh, I’ve taken it off often enough to know how to put it back on,” said Feyd with a grin.

“Evidently not. Step aside.”

He didn’t, of course, but he let her push him and watched her finish dressing herself, his arms crossed over his chest. Even through all that black material, it was as if he could see all of her. Or perhaps he just approved of the colour.

“Want to join me today?” he suddenly said.

“Where?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Command room.”

It had been a while since she’d been permitted to be there, and he’d scarcely given the impression that he truly cared about what she thought. Oh, he wanted a Bene Gesserit alright, but he just saw it as another flavour of concubine rather than a real advisor — or at most, as a sort of mother-bride.

“I’m not sure what use I could be,” she said as she brushed down the folds of her dress.

“Don’t want to help me conquer this flaming pit of a planet?” asked Feyd, a crinkle of resentment in his eye that he could barely hide. “Or do you just not like to see the Fremen dying?”

“I know nothing of military strategy,” she smirked, “remember?”

He huffed a sigh and trotted past her to grab his blades, and with a jerking movement sheathed them.

“Come on, then. Let’s have breakfast. Then you’re allowed to go your own way, as usual,” he grumbled, then stepped outside to the brisque salute of the guards.

She followed quietly, a small shadow with clipped steps, going unnoticed by the crashing waves of bowing heads Feyd marched between. What the other Harkonnens or local workers of Arrakeen thought of her presence by the Planetary Governor lately, she couldn’t say. It was difficult enough to read Feyd’s true thoughts, lately. A few months ago, she would’ve found that unnerving… But as she watched the pale back of his head, tension obvious in his shoulders, arms stiff by his side as if he itched to grab a dagger, she could only smile. He was frightening, but he was still hers, in a way, and she allowed through her whole body to flow that feeling of tenderness which was particular to blood relatives, or lovers.

To his credit, he swallowed his discontent, his suspicion of her and her ever-shifting thoughts, while they had breakfast. He even smiled as he passed her one of his favourite treats, a folded pastry with a yellow cream inside, sprinkled on top with a meld of sugar and melange.

“You’ve forgiven me, then?” she said as she took a bite.

“What was there to forgive?” he asked airily.

“Nothing at all,” she said, all too happy to avoid having to disclose her thoughts, her growing tenderness for him, her un-womanly desire to betray her order and save him.

“Well then,” said Feyd, growing serious again at her evasion, “since there’s nothing to forgive, I haven’t forgiven you.”

She ate quietly but not without a little smile. She tolerated him when he was his petulant princeling self, but she liked him far better when he put his mind to use, even if it was just to say something clever. It made her see in him the qualities of Harkonnens past, that sharpness and alacrity which first drew the Bene Gesserits’ attention to them as good candidates for the breeding program.

When she parted from him, bowing low, he didn’t react. He was still upset with her. In his silence and coldness of being he tried to keep to himself in much the same way she did, as revenge — but he was still a little boy and didn’t realise that when he was being silent he most betrayed what he was feeling.

He longs for closeness by any means, she thought. Physically, mentally, emotionally… It hurts him not to know what I was thinking in the morning, in his arms. Well, he can suffer it a while longer.

While Feyd dealt with the Fremen, she went to meditate at her usual spot — shadowed and dry and away from the servants, inside a little alcove in a forgotten balcony, with the smell of burnt sand upon the wind and the morning dew melting in the air. She wanted to help Feyd, that much she could recognise in herself now without any of the shame that an obedient Bene Gesserit sister might feel — because she wasn’t obedient anymore, neither to the sisterhood, nor to the Harkonnens, or even to Feyd himself… If anything, she far preferred it when he was obedient to her. Not only did those precious little moments make her feel safe, but when he submitted she could let flow all of those latent, perfectly animal, ancient feelings of love. It felt both sensual and motherly, like a forbidden treat that melted on her tongue. She licked her lips and caught faint traces of the melange from breakfast.

And when she closed her eyes, with the Arrakis wind lapping against her ears, she saw a vision of blue waters swaying, and the sweat that beaded on her brow was sea spray splashing as it hit the rocks. The scent of burning stone as the hot sun hit the palace tasted of salt to her, and the distant marching of troops became paddles pushing a large vessel forward. She saw this vision as much as she felt it and knew in an instinctive way that this reality existed somewhere, whether now or in the future. She reached out with her mind, trying to sense how far away this world was. The response surprised her — it felt not far away, but past. Not so much distant within space as within time… And it felt peaceful.

She yearned to be there, on that strange planet, wet and cold, with Arrakis far behind her, with an empty expanse of black rocks on all sides and the sounds of a turbulent sea beneath her. She let herself lay down in this vision, her back resting on uneven stones, and faced the sky. It was a pale blue, nearly white, with large grey birds circling and cutting through the clouds. Her skin felt stiff with an overflow of chill and her lungs felt full and light. Was this planet Caladan, the home of House Atreides? She’d never been there, but she knew it to be oceanic, lush with life, the very opposite of Dune. Why would her meditations pull her there? Would Feyd invade it? Would she join him? It didn’t seem that way… All about her was peace.

A deeper rumble sang throughout her bones, in dissonance with the place her mind had run to, and as the thrumming got closer and bubbled above her consciousness, she came to realise it was something in the present. With a broken heart, she opened her eyes and found herself lying on the floor, facing the brown ceiling. Behind her, through the wide corridors of the palace, troops were in motion. Was there an attack?

She heaved herself up and shook the dust off her dress, and went to find Feyd in case he had need of her. She hoped he did… She wanted an excuse to be with someone just then, even under the guise of a soulless Bene Gesserit.

[egophiliac]

OMG EGO HAVE YOU SEEN THE BOOK 7 CATER CARD YET

80s britpunk Cater is such an incredible direction to take. his Sid Vicious jacket! his little british police cap! I wouldn't have anticipated that going full-on Sex Pistols would be his alternate self but it is SO fitting actually. 😭

(also th-the crown symbol?! the gavel?! is housewarden Cater real because I will TRANSCEND --)

[bassiter2]

i'm realizing through this book i'm reading (same-sex affairs: constructing and controlling homosexuality in the pacific northwest) that like... yknow the conflation between homosexuality and pedophilia. well i've realized why that is, and that it's more than just all "sexual perversions" getting lumped together by homophobes. but also insanely enough more mundane

it's literally that for many decades, the only concept most people were able to have of gay men were through the lens of it being a crime. aka arrest records and the newspapers telling you who got put in jail last night. obviously gay men who were only having consensual sex with other gay adult men did get caught sometimes, but you could only catch them if they were doing it in public, if you were sneaking around in their private home, or if someone involved ratted them out. and if you ratted someone out, whatever motivation you might have, you were also ratting yourself out, so why would you do that? but if you were underage, especially if it was non-consensual, you wouldn't be in trouble at all. so of course the majority of the "immoral acts" charges are going to be between an adult and a minor.

not only that but apparently "youth" in referring to a young person used to literally mean anyone under the age of 21. and the vast majority of charges that read "engaged in immoral acts with a youth" it's referring to like a 17 y/o or even 18 or 19. so then ppl in later decades read that and misinterpreted it too.

and that's literally it lol..... it feels obvious in hindsight but i never would have thought about it. crazy what bias confirmation does.

[homunculus-argument]

Fantasy book concept:

A story that starts out as very standard but scrubbed-clean old school classic fantasy with black-and-white morality and a generic farmboy hero protagonist from a quaint little village surrounded by a big scary world full of monsters and dark and evil magic, who gets whisked away on an adventure with a handful of trusted friends, and possibly a wizard who keeps telling them that he's 100% aware that this is a terrible idea and that they are all little dipshits who shouldn't be trusted to wander off on their own in the Big Scary Outside World. Because they're stupid and will get themselves killed.

...And then they get there, and it's not Big Scary Dark And Evil out there, but more realistic kind of fantasy with grey morality, nuanced adult themes, big cities have drug market and an organised sex workers' guild. Wide-eyed farmboy-hero -ass characters who would normally get shocked enough to throw up foaming blood if they saw a woman's ankle will just have to deal with the fact that it's currently very fashionable to go about with one's tits completely out in the street to show off one's trendy pierced nipples.

And the horrified culture shock goes both ways. Like the protagonist can just say "I'm an orphan because my mother got possessed by a demon :(" and there's some confused back-and-forth about it because the City People really just Do Not Seem To Understand how and why getting possessed by a demon would automatically mean you're dead. You can't die from getting possessed, can you? And to their horror the City People slowly put together that no, these hicks have literally never even heard of exorcisms. Their solution to people getting possessed by demons is to just fucking kill the victim.

[bemusedlybespectacled]

what's happening with James Somerton right now: a probably-incomplete primer

TW: suicide, including suicide as a threat and a manipulation tactic.

The short version:

James Somerton is a former Youtube essayist who focused entirely on queer history, queer media criticism, and queer issues in general. He is also a flagrant grifter who has made tens of thousands of dollars via fraud, both directly (lying about his finances to beg for money and getting donations for films he never even started making) and indirectly (stealing whole essays and articles and books, reading them out loud verbatim for his videos without indicating they were anything other than his own work, and then using the prestige he gained from using their work to get Patrons and sponsorships).

The story as told James and James apologists was that James attempted to apologize twice, was hounded mercilessly on the internet for weeks, and then, driven to the end of his rope, he posted a suicide note on Twitter, was MIA for several days, and from then on has been avoiding the internet.

The actual story, as revealed yesterday, was that James used two sockpuppet accounts to defend himself and parrot his talking points (again, while publicly claiming to be trying to take responsibility for his actions), using one to try to rebrand the con under a different name and another to deliberately stoke the panic caused by his suicide note. He was not only aware of the pain and anxiety he was causing people, but he encouraged it on one alt while hornyposting about his favorite movies on the other.

He is an unrepentant con artist who successfully used a suicide threat to prevent further interference with future cons. The only reason he was caught is because he is apparently incapable of going more than a couple of weeks without trying to get back in the internet spotlight, allowing people to tie his alts back to him. He lies for fun and profit and he should not be taken seriously, ever.

The long version:

In December 2023, Youtube essayist Hbomberguy (Harry Brewis) put out a four-hour-long video about plagiarism on the internet, and devoted two hours to addressing as much of JS's plagiarism as he could. I strongly recommend watching the entire thing, as the first two hours build on the concepts that he uses later in the video.

He also blew the whistle on James' fraud surrounding Telos, a studio James founded using thousands of dollars of IndieGoGo money that never actually produced any films despite him definitely working on them! Any day now they'll be released! Don't you worry!

A day later, Todd in the Shadows, a guy whose entire thing is music reviews, posted his own video debunking multiple outright lies that James had told about history, especially queer history. A few more days later, The Ace Couple, who run a podcast about asexuality, released an episode detailing how they'd lost $1.5k donating to Telos.

I have put the videos, Twitter threads, Patreon posts, and Reddit posts by other people discussing different aspects of James' fraud under the cut.

Every other time James was caught plagiarizing, prior to Harry's video, he would lie about it. Either he'd have some excuse (easily proven to be a lie) or he'd retreat to his favorite deflection: "I'm just being harassed because I'm gay."

This last lie was one he'd use not only to deflect accusations of plagiarism, but all criticism in general, no matter how trivial. Every time, the critic or someone associated with them would somehow dox him, or harass him, or send him death threats, or threaten to falsely accuse him of sexual assault.

This happened to The Ace Couple (who'd tried to correct him on something extremely acephobic in one of his videos), Jessie Gender (who'd tried to correct him when he claimed that there were no queer content creators on Nebula, given that she and a bunch of other queer creators were definitely on that platform), and the person who first blew the whistle on him stealing from Tinker Belles and Evil Queens by Sean Griffin (who was accused of being behind death threats he'd received, and hounded so harshly they had to leave Twitter).

It is important to note that every time James faced potentially damaging criticism, or even just a threat to his ego, suddenly he would claim to be harassed by people connected to the critic, including threats to his life. There has never been any proof of any threats being directed at him, nor evidence that, if the threats were real, that they are actually from people connected to the critic.

In the original video by Hbomberguy, Harry makes a compelling argument that James brought on a friend of his, Nick, as a co-writer specifically as a shield against accusations of plagiarism. "How dare you accuse me of plagiarism! Nick would NEVER do that!" This is even more apparent given subsequent developments which I will get into.

When evidence started dropping about different aspects of his fraud (not only Harry's video, but Todd in the Shadows' video debunking his misinfo, The Ace Couple's podcast about their experience donating to his fraudulent film studio, and Dan Olson's tweet thread about James' obvious lies about his finances), he went into hiding for two weeks, and then put out the first of two apologies. He then deleted that one and put out another one a few weeks later. And then he immediately deleted that one.

While his first apology was rambling, vague, and dramatic (lots of sniffing/crying), and his second was more measured, thought-out, and totally batshit (lots of hilariously and bizarrely implausible excuses for why he'd done what he'd done), they had roughly the same points:

Not ALL of his stuff was plagiarized! Actually, a lot of it wasn't! No specifics as to what, though!

Most of the stuff that was plagiarized was just a failure to properly cite sources, as he had no idea that putting someone's name in your end credits or video description (without specifying what parts are attributable to that person or disclosing that you are using their words verbatim) is not sufficient credit,

Also, he totally had permission, in some cases, to use their work verbatim prior to publishing the video (this is not true, and is disproven both in Harry's video and his own screenshots);

He definitely didn't commit fraud with Telos and would soon have a good explanation for where the money went! (he did not)

He was going to keep the videos up so that he could either donate the funds from any monetization to the fund Harry had set up for his victims or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing his work;

He lost his best friend (i.e. Nick) over these allegations, who absolutely definitely wasn't a scapegoat, except Nick was also responsible for a lot of the stuff James was being criticized for;

He was going to keep the videos up so he could either donate the advertising proceeds to Harry's fund for his victims (first apology) or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing the work he'd done; and

As a result of this entire ordeal, he had attempted either self-harm or suicide (he merely alluded to "doing something stupid").

Again, his response was to 1) downplay the severity of his actions or flat out ignore allegations against him, 2) come up with ridiculous excuses for his behavior, 3) throw Nick under the bus, and 4) claim to be in mortal danger. As far as I am aware, he has never taken any concrete action to make amends to any person, not even donating money to charity.

This was coupled with some kind of attempt to profit: monetizing his apology videos, closing and then reopening his Patreon right before the monthly charge cycle happened (totally to let people unfollow him, not at all as a grab for that money), creating a new Patreon under a different name, and changing his Twitter and Youtube handles to distance himself from the controversy while gathering new followers.

At one point (I forget if this was on Twitter or Instagram), he also said that someone had broken into his apartment due to the notoriety he'd received from Harry's video. I believe that was after his first apology, when people started to point out that he'd just changed the name of his Twitter and Youtube channel and had restarted a new Patreon under a pseudonym. (BTW, the pseudonym he used for his new Patreon was "The Gay Raconteur"; this will be important later).

It had what I think was the desired effect: any attempt at pointing out that he was rebranding his grift now came across as weirdly fixated on minor things he was doing, which certainly wasn't worth putting him in physical danger. (Again, he has never provided any proof of this happening, nor provided any evidence that these people allegedly threatening him were, in fact, in some way inspired by Hbomb).

So along comes March 5, 2024, and James posts a suicide note on his Twitter, saying that he is going to set up his videos to automatically publish (for Nick's portfolio), provide in some way for the ad revenue to go to a suicide prevention nonprofit, and then kill himself.

The immediate response from the internet was compassion and totally chilling any further criticism, since you might be callously criticizing a dead person. Harry and Kat worked for a couple of days to get a wellness check for him while a substantial section of the internet called them murderers.

On March 6, a day after the note was published, Nick tweeted that that he had cause to believe James was fine. Kat confirmed that James was safe on March 11. Due to the drama of the "suicide attempt," however, the chill on criticizing James stayed in place for months.

And then yesterday Lady Emily, one of the cowriters for Sarah Z., drops two more bombs:

James has not one but two alt accounts that he was using to rebrand and start over.

The first one was created between his first and second apologies, and originally was for "The Gay Raconteur" until he changed it to "Will"/"thatgayyouknow" and, later, "The Achillean Boy."

The second one was much older, under the pseudonym "Mikey JB," and used stolen pictures from Grindr instead of his own face. However, it is pretty obvious that it is, in fact, a sockpuppet account and not just some other person who happens to like James, as detailed below.

Both accounts, both between apologies and after his "suicide," talked about how criticism of James was unfair because the plagiarized stuff was "like a decade old" and repeating the same excuses that James had also made.

The "Mikey JB" account not only supported James, but actively threw Nick under the bus, saying that a criticized part of a video "reeks of his co-writer."

On March 6, the day after James' main Twitter posted the suicide note, The Achillean Boy account was hornyposting about Ryan Phillipe. James didn't even take a day or two off of Twitter. If he had been completely off Twitter for a couple of days, that could have been an indication that he really had hurt himself and was unable to access his phone, or at the very least unaware of the panic. But he wasn't. He was aware of it and did nothing. Actually, no! Worse than nothing!

On the same day (March 6), the Mikey JB account was actively contradicting Nick saying he was okay (they "haven't spoken in months" so there's no way Nick could know if he was alive) and saying that "people like you" i.e. his critics, "drove him to it." Not only did he ignore the panic he'd intentionally created, he actively drove it.

He saw people going emotionally through the wringer over the idea that they might have somehow caused his death, and intentionally made them keep thinking it. He say people calling his critics "murderers" for "driving him to his death," and he joined in.

Why am I explaining all of this? I want to make a couple of things extremely clear, and the context is necessary to my ultimate points, namely:

James Somerton didn't merely "credit people improperly;" he conned his followers out of more money than some people make in a year with the Telos con, while raking in thousands more per month on Patreon and buying expensive equipment, while claiming to be near insolvency and in desperate need of money.

James Somerton has never taken full responsibility for his actions or attempted to make amends. He has only ever tried to dodge responsibility, particularly by throwing Nick under the bus.

Every time he has ever been criticized, for any reason, he has lied about threats to his life to gain sympathy and quell criticism. This is a standard part of his MO. He has done this over and over and over again. At this point, I think if he says the sky is blue, someone should go out and check first before doing anything.

"But BB, what if he really is getting harassed/threatened or really is suicidal?"

So, okay: people who are attempting to manipulate you may use legitimate problems as a tool. It doesn't need to be fake to be effective - in fact, it might be more effective if it it's true. An abusive ex who says "if you leave me, I'll kill myself" and genuinely means it and actually attempts it (and possibly even succeeds!) is a lot harder to leave than someone who says the same thing but is clearly just bluffing, because the threat is real.

My rule of thumb in these cases is to treat the threat like it's real, without caving to the intended manipulation. Whether your ex is lying or telling the truth when they say, "I'll kill myself if you leave me," the appropriate response in both cases is to immediately call a mental health service or supportive family member. If it's fake, it's inconvenient for them; if it's real, you reacted appropriately. Your response needs to be the same regardless.

You don't get back together with them because it's a real threat (presumably you wouldn't do that if you knew it was fake and they were never in any danger), and you don't tell them that they're a piece of shit who should be dead (HOPEFULLY you wouldn't do that if you knew for a fact that they were telling the truth).

In this case, I am extremely confident in saying that he was coldbloodedly lying the entire time and was never once threatened, and certainly not to the degree he claimed to be. But even if he wasn't, that does not and should not change anyone's behavior in terms of holding him accountable.

And I mean actually holding him accountable: making sure he doesn't try to start a new con on new people, continuing to point out that he hasn't paid anyone back for his previous con (so long as it's still true), that sort of thing. It doesn't mean people should tell him he should go die for real or, I don't know, try to get him fired if he gets a job at Tim Horton's or Target or something else that's not fraud. That would be wrong regardless of whether he's actually in danger or not. The point is to avoid being cruel without negotiating with terrorists.

Video sources and links under the cut:

Links:

It's like Breaking Bad, but backwards: a brief history of how Somerton successfully screwed himself Dan Olson's Twitter thread about the financial fraud My Year With James: Todd's post explaining the backstory of his video (Patreon-locked) DJSO#: Dan Olson's breakdown of James' second apology (Patreon-locked) Lady Emily's Twitter threads revealing James' alt accounts, part 1 and part 2

[pascalispretty]

each man's mad desire

General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Marcus Acacius is a conqueror. You invite him to conquer you.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: marcus fucks a nymph, predator/prey, knifeplay, blood, thigh riding, rough sex, sorta consensual-non-consent? Reader very explicitly wants him and invites him to hunt her down. Marcus has an unfashionably huge dick.

A/N: I swore I wasn't going to write for another character from an unreleased film, yet here we are. I loved studying Classics, so there are easter eggs within for those familiar with mythology. "Nymph" is more Greek than Roman, but it's also the better-known version of the word. Barcinus is a completely made-up cognomen for him (from the Latin name for Barcelona). Ichor is a Greek concept, but too delicious not to borrow here. Big dicks really were considered unattractive - it was a sign of barbarism to have a big penis. Title from Book IX of The Aeneid. Painting is 'The Charmer' by John William Waterhouse. (ao3)

The battle is won, the men are settled, and General Marcus Acacius is restless. He wears the efforts of the day in the blood and grime and sand coating his skin, the ache in his muscles. The city is retaken. The barbarians have been slaughtered or captured. He knows he should rest.

And yet, he wanders.

The camp is close by the beach. As he walks, the sound of the army behind him fades away, drowned out by the sound of the sea. The inviting aroma of the campfires and roasting meat is replaced by the smell of salt. There are sentries out here, somewhere in the night. He pays them no mind; he wishes to be alone. Grass turns to sand underfoot and still Acacius walks on. At the edge of the sea, he pauses briefly.

Across the Great Sea, to the east, stands Rome. It’s veiled by darkness and distance, but he turns to look for it anyway. He misses it the way a loyal son misses a beloved father. Word of a great victory will travel before him, the whispers moving faster than any army can.

When he returns home, he hopes he will be warmly welcomed. Those seeking to ride his skirts into Imperial favour will doubtless fall over themselves to praise him, at least. They will preen and flatter, and he will nod humbly and thank them.

“The Gods were with me.” It is always his answer, when asked of his victories. It is a clean answer. Men praise him for his piety; they do not imagine the lives he has sacrificed, the atrocities he has committed, the horrors of sacking a city. The Gods were with him; he does not have to speak of loosing his men like feral dogs upon innocents, of slaughtering barbarian sons so they cannot grow up to seek their vengeance on Rome.

Acacius turns and walks down the beach, leaving the camp behind him. The silvery light of the stars and moon light his path along the coast. He simply enjoys being away from all others, the crash of the waves and his own footsteps the only noise he can hear. The ground to his right begins to rise, soft grass yielding to rock. He has no sense of how long he has walked for when the beach before him suddenly ends. The shoreline curves sharply inward, creating a rocky inlet.

He has no desire to turn back now. Perhaps the path reemerges on the other side. He follows the curve of the stone inward. Ahead, he can see the path sloping down towards the waterline, leading towards the dark mouth of a cave. The tide is coming in; the water at the entrance to the grotto must be at least knee-deep.

Acacius is turning to leave when he notices her.

The inlet in the rock forms a pool at the entrance to the cave. Even in the silvery moonlight, the water looks beautiful and clear. It should not surprise him that a maiden might come to bathe there, away from prying eyes.

For it is a maiden that stops him in his tracks, fixes his boots to the stone. Her back is turned to him; she is perched atop a rock, her bare feet dangling in the saltwater of the pool. Now that he is aware of her, he thinks he hears her singing over the sounds of the waves, a melody he does not recognise.

An honourable man would depart. Acacius can only see her back, but she must be noble. Her dress is so white it is almost blinding, even in the starlight. Her feet are bare, but he spies a pair of finely-wrought sandals on the rocks beside her. Certainly a noble lady then.

His mind is made up to leave.

And at that very moment, she turns.

***

You had not expected to be discovered. Perhaps you might have toyed with him if you had. You could have disguised yourself as a maiden in need of assistance, a princess cast ashore by a shipwreck. There are endless amusements to be found among the mortals.

Yet he has stumbled upon your grotto quite by accident, and from your first glimpse, he intrigues you.

Marcus Acacius Barcinus.

Something whispers his name to you; you know it as soon as you see him, just as you know he has dark hair threaded with grey. You allow a smile to play on your lips.

To his credit, this man does not move. Confronted with something so nakedly celestial, other men have lost their minds. What is it for a man to look upon the face of the divine? They do not always survive it. This one seems strong. He may yet survive you.

“Hail, noble General,” you start, turning in your seat on the rock so you may face him more directly. He is a handsome one. His lovely dark eyes drink you in from head to toe.

“You know me?” He manages after a moment. Not mad then, not yet anyway. You laugh, and he seems startled by the sound.

“I do.” Sliding off the rock you step into the water, your stola clinging to your skin. “General Marcus Acacius Barcinus, son of Gaius Acacius. Your piety is known.” He is always attentive with his sacrifices. You can smell the burning flesh and spilled wine dedicated to the heavens from here, in honour of his latest victory.

You take a few steps towards him. He’s still atop the rocky crest, almost looking down on you. You near the base of the slope, your skirts drying the moment they leave the water, and halt again. The mouth of the grotto is to your back; you can hear the lap of the waves echoing against the rocky walls.

“And which noble goddess do I have the honour of addressing?” He asks. You have many names, too many to sift through. A mortal wrote you into a poem once; you give him the name the poet gave you.

“I had not thought ever to look upon a nymph before.” There is something in the way he says it; a tone of disbelief colouring his voice. It’s as though he expects to wake up in his tent at any moment. In the dark violet light of twilight, the blood on his skin looks brown and rusty. You can almost taste the iron on the air.

“Are you content merely to look?” You ask him, a sly smile on your lips. You already know he is not. This man is a conqueror, and he is looking at you with all the intensity and desire of a man set upon conquest. He does not speak for a long moment. Perhaps he is afraid of offending you, of saying the wrong thing and finding himself transformed into a pig or sea foam.

You walk a little closer to him, emerging from the water. Closer now, the smell of him drowning out the salt of the sea. He reeks of man, of blood and sweat and such pure vitality you nearly stagger. He’s so breathtakingly alive. If all mortal men are thus, you understand why your sisters seek them out and take them to bed, even bear their children.

“I admire a man who knows how to take what he desires. A conqueror in all things,” you continue, feeling the warmth of his gaze as he watches the sway of your hips. Once you are an arm’s length away from him, you reach out. You cannot help it. He’s such a marvellous specimen of manhood, the kind that ought to be honoured with a kingdom or a divine son or his form traced in the stars.

He does not stop you when you rest your palm against the leather of his cuirass. It’s warm to the touch, whether from the heat of his body or a day of the sun beating down upon it. The black leather has a gilded woman’s face across the front; Minerva perhaps. It gives you pause. If he values Minerva and her strategies above Mars and his frenzy, he may not enjoy your games.

Nevertheless, you will not let the tastes of mortal men unnerve you. He watches you as you undo the knot at one shoulder, and wordlessly reaches to help you. Together, the two of you free him from his heavy armour. As he sets it down gently against the rock, you nearly choke on him. You can hear the thrum of his heart, smell the salt of his sweat, the iron in his blood.

You have never starved. Yet this conqueror of men is like being blessed with a feast and realising for the first time that you have been dying of hunger all your life. Freed from his heavy leathers, you step so closely to him that your glimmering white dress brushes against his filthy red tunic. You reach out to cup his jaw, enjoying the way his skin feels to your touch.

He swallows thickly, his lovely eyes searching your face.

“I want you.” He says it simply, though you know it must have taken courage. Men have died for such insults before. You let a smile curl around your lips.  

“Mars himself had my maidenhead. I do not submit easily to the advances of men.” Standing on tiptoe, you lean in until your lips nearly touch the shell of his ear. “If you want me, you will have to take me.”

It’s all the prompting you give him before you turn and run.

You run down the beach, back the way he came. You have more powerful kin who could outrun him with ease, if they chose. Minerva could be a continent away in moments, if she chose. You do not have their same powers; you might be fleeter of foot than a mortal woman, but you cannot transform yourself into a swan and fly back to the heavens.

Behind you, you hear Acacius’ feet pounding against the sand. The noise blurs with the roar of his heartbeat, thumping harder as he chases you. You run faster, pulling your skirts up with one hand so they cannot tangle around your legs. It has been far too long since you felt this exhilarated. Off in the distance, you can see the lights of his camp, the torches and bonfires burning brightly in the twilight.

You lose yourself to the chase, paying the distance no mind as you race down the beach. Sand flies up beneath your bare feet, gritty under your toes as you run. Something in you wants to turn around, to see if the handsome general is still close behind you. You can hear him well enough to know he is behind you, but not well enough to gauge the distance.

You don’t look. You only run.

Even though you had invited the hunt, desperately hoping to be caught, the hand that catches your waist surprises you. He seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the sand, pinning you beneath his muscular bulk. The feeling of being trapped sends a perverse thrill racing through you, something warm stirring in your belly.

Though he has caught you, you do not give in so easily.

You thrash underneath him, trying to throw him off you. Acacius is unyielding. His large hands grip your arms; his knees squeeze at your sides. You get one arm free and bring it up. You’re not sure what you intend to do; you don’t want to break him. Scratch him, perhaps? You never get the chance to find out.

Before you see him move, he seizes your arm and pins your wrist beneath his foot. One hand flies to your throat; the other draws a dagger from its sheath and holds the point against the swell of your breast.

For a long moment, you cannot breathe. The large hand at your throat squeezes just enough to threaten a loss of air. The foot on your wrist makes the delicate bones there grind together on just the right side of pleasure-pain. And oh, the blade at your heart. The tip pierces your skin and you don’t know whether to scream or cry or vomit from the shock.

You have never been so still in your life.

When has anything mortal ever pierced your skin? When has anything mortal managed to cut through the skin of your kith and kin? You have vague memories; bandaging Mars’ side after the great spearman Diomedes struck him outside Ilium. You watch in horror and awe as a bead of ichor seeps from the pinprick wound. Mars has made you bleed before, but you never thought a mortal might draw your glittering, golden blood.

You look up at him, your conqueror. He is panting hard, but his face shows no exhaustion; only determination. His eyes are nearly black with desire, and his lovely black and grey curls are damp with sweat. Gods, you want him. You want him to hunt you down as he would a deer, to throw you down and take you like some common mortal whore.

Watching you closely, Acacius eases his grip on your throat. A man used to gauging the weakness of his enemies has seen right through you in turn. He knows you do not need air to breathe. He knows he has done something astounding in the knife at your breast. He holds it steady as he reaches beneath the skirts of his tunic, pulling at the strings of his underthings. He pulls it free with a grunt and discards it beside you in the sand.

Free from its confinement, his manhood pushes against the skirt of his tunic. Something low in your belly twists in anticipation, slick coating the insides of your thighs. Your blood feels as though it’s boiling beneath your skin as Acacius grips the fine cloth of your stola in one filthy hand.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes upon,” he tells you, in all sincerity. You tremble underneath him as he pushes your skirts up around your waist, another bead of ichor welling up around the tip of the blade.

You gasp as the metal shifts, and his eyes flick to your face. Almost lovingly, his hand wraps around your throat again.

“Do you yield?” When no reply is immediately forthcoming, he presses his advantage. The hand at your throat and foot at your wrist push harder; more glittering blood beads at your breast. The surface tension finally breaks, sending the blood dripping down towards your neck.

“I yield.” In an instant, he relaxes his hold. The foot on your wrist disappears, as does the blade. The hand on your throat remains, tipping your head up so he can kiss you. He kisses like his master, Mars; hard and demanding. You return the kiss with bruising intensity, nipping at his lower lip. It seems only fair that you make him bleed a little, in turn.

His beard prickles against your skin, and you answer it by sliding your hand into his curls and pulling roughly. Acacius groans against your mouth, crushing himself closer to you and forcing your legs apart with his knee. His muscular thigh presses against your bare cunt, the pressure sending liquid fire dancing through your body. You rut up against his thigh eagerly, your slick smearing against his skin.

Acacius notices your movements, breaking off the kiss to stare at you. The raw lust in his eyes makes you keep going, rocking your hips desperately against him. His thigh flexes between your legs, and you groan loudly. Without taking his eyes off you, his hand drifts to cup your breast, tantalisingly close to the tiny wound on your unblemished skin.

“Are you going to stab me again, slayer of men?” You ask him, tauntingly. You wouldn’t mind if he did.

“No, dear mistress. I’ll watch you debase yourself on my thigh.” Oh, you want to keep him. Your sisters have kept mortals before; you remember well the fuss around sweet Hylas, cunning Ulysses. Your conqueror finds your nipple through the fine material of your dress, the flesh stiffening beneath his fingers as he toys with you.

Your hips roll easier, faster as you sink deeper into your pleasure. Every glide becomes slicker as you soak his skin. It’s been some time since you’ve so blatantly sought your own pleasure, and you welcome it back eagerly. That familiar tension is coiling tightly in your belly and sends you spiralling higher with every movement.

Acacius watches you with fascination. His own pleasure is forgotten for the moment, though you suppose he is enjoying this. Something divine rubbing against him like a cat in heat; no man alive would believe him if he told them. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps and you clutch at Acacius’ wrist to ground yourself. He’s so solid and warm to your touch; his vitality is unlike any aphrodisiac you have ever known.

It’s not long before you come with a cry, your nails digging into Acacius’ skin as you shudder against him. The fire in your belly burns through you, the heat of it radiating out to your fingertips. It leaves you boneless beneath your conqueror. He seizes the advantage, pulling your legs wider apart to slot his other leg between them.

You struggle. Why not? It amuses you to make him manhandle you into place. He pulls your legs wider with one hand. With the thumb of the hand at your breast, he presses just below the cut. The burst of pain makes you hiss. Cowed, you let him pull your legs apart, his eyes feasting on your cunt. You must look a mess, swollen and soaked.

Acacius lets go of your leg and pulls up the hem of his tunic. He’s big, unfashionably so for his countrymen. Beads of fluid leak from the reddened tip, and he swipes them away with his thumb. He settles himself between your thighs, and you gasp when he notches the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. Without warning or reprieve, he forces his cock inside you.

You throw your head back against the sand, stars exploding against your closed eyelids as you dance along the knife edge of pleasure and pain. A deep groan rumbles out of Acacius’ throat as he presses deeper, working against your tight muscles to seat himself within you. He’s unrelenting, his length thick and twitching as it fills you.

There’s no other word for it; you wail up at the star-strewn sky, pleasure flooding through you. Your body feels too small to contain the fire being stoked inside you, deep in your core. You pull at Acacius, nails clawing, dragging him down to kiss you. His lips meet yours in a messy crash, all tongues and teeth as he finally seats himself fully within you.

He barely allows you a moment to adjust. He retreats almost fully, his cock nearly leaving you completely, before sliding back in with one fluid stroke of his hips. You’re shaken by how willingly your body accepts him, colouring any pain with so much pleasure you barely notice the discomfort. His hand finds your throat again, squeezing just enough to make you feel lightheaded.

Acacius’ incursions become sharper, harder, as he finds his rhythm. Your hands slide under the hem of his tunic to clutch at his back, your nails leaving behind tiny red crescents in his skin. Every breath you take is shared by him, your mouths so close together you can taste the wine lingering on his tongue. The two of you move together, your moans melting into one another as you fuck like animals in the sand.

It doesn’t take him long to send you over the edge again. Bliss wipes all words from your mind; you can only lie there and let your release crash over you. The ichor in your veins feels like it’s singing. Acacius looks down on you in awe, and it only drives you higher. You want to keep him. The Heroic Age is too far past; the world is lacking for heroes. Perhaps you and Acacius can make a few; handsome, strong boys, half-god children who reflect their father’s divine favour.

“Would you give me sons, Acacius?” You ask, breathless at his onslaught. Your foreheads are pressed together still; you cannot see the look on his face. He groans sharply, his hands clutch tighter at you. Is that a yes? What greater blessing to a pious man than a son born to a goddess.

He certainly shows no signs of stopping. He fucks you with the same vigour he fights with. You feel like you’re floating, high above your own body, lost completely to pleasure. Jupiter himself could command you to stop, and you’d be unable to obey. You grow restless beneath him. His hand has slackened around your throat, so you lean down to lick a line across his neck. The taste of salt and iron explodes across your tongue, so delicious that you have to force yourself not to sink your teeth in.

Acacius grunts above you, forcing you back down against the sand. His hips are stuttering; a sign that he’s close to his own release. You want to cry, want to prolong this as much as possible, but you know he has limits. Your sisters have pushed mortal men too far before; you will not make the same mistake, not with so delicious a playmate.

Instead you spur him on. Your nails dig harder into his back, making him groan sharply. His short, desperate thrusts make your eyes roll back into your skull as he touches something deep and private within you, unknown to anyone else.

“I- I must-” He starts, words failing him as he chases his release. You pepper his face with kisses, nip at his kiss-swollen lips.

“You must,” you agree. “I want you to fill me up.” You’re both breathless, barely any air between your bodies to breathe. One of your hands slides into his curls, pulling at them. You guide his head down until your lips are at his ear again.

“I could give you a son,” you whisper. “But only if you finish inside me. Claim me; mark me as yours. Conquer me.”

He tips over the edge with a loud groan, his hips stuttering as he comes. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as he does, filling you with his seed. Perhaps something might catch; he seems virile enough. You cradle his head against the crook of your neck as he catches his breath, his body heavy as he relaxes on top of you.

“Noble Acacius,” you murmur fondly, stroking his curls. “Marcus. What do you make of your new conquest?” He is quiet for a long moment. The crash of the waves fills the silence, the tide drawing closer. Soon, the two of you will have to move.

“I shall never know another victory like it.”

Taglist:

Tagging some people who might be interested: @iamasaddie (per their request for Acacius filth) @avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @its-nebuleuse

[fishnapple]

Your successful qualities

Let's find out what qualities do you possess that can make you successful on your chosen path ✨️

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

YELLOW

You have qualities that would make you a person of the people. You have a high level of emotional intelligence and charm that make it easy for you to dive into people's hearts. The chief element that will contribute to your success is how you connect with people. You know how to express your feelings in a calm and soothing way, people feel accepted and nurtured through the interactions with you and your presence. You care a lot about other's comfort. You intuitively understand what the other person wants without them having to voice it out. This is especially helpful when you are assigned a task or when you assign a task to other people. You know how to complete the task in the way that the other person wants and you also know what the other person is capable of, what is their working style, so you can give them suitable task and instruction. You also have the ability to pacify and harmonise difficult situations. Which are qualities that are very much needed when dealing with customers or working in employee relations. But if you're not careful, people's dependency and over demanding could be a problem. Dealing constantly with people's problems can drain your energy really fast. Also, when there are many people expecting something from you, a desire to please, to be helpful and perfect in your job, can become a burden for you. The downside of being in tune with others is that you're entangled with them, it would be hard to act independently.

What makes you popular with people is not just your aura or your caring and pleasant nature. It's also your communication skills. You have the gift of the gab, striking a balance between being funny and wise. Your humour can diffuse tense situations and your knowledge and wisdom can guide you through the intricate system of socialising, never appearing too jesting nor too serious. You can grasp abstract concepts easily and then explain them back in a simple to understand way, this ability will make you a great teacher or a supervisor or someone who needs to present their ideas to a mass. You also can turn those ideas into reality, ideas don't just stay in your head, you pull them out and mould them into solid existences. When you encounter new information or foreign topics, you don't shy away from them but revel in the process of analysing, understanding and absorbing that information. So new job, new position, new opportunities don't faze you, your adaptability is one of your biggest talents.

What can make you successful is your drive for success, it's very simple. As long as you have the desire to succeed in anything you do, you can achieve it, with patience, diligence but also a flash of genius. You are an innovative pioneer, you follow your own rules, and this will attract people and opportunities to you.

BLACK

This may sound corny but it's your heart and passion. As you can see in the picture above, the "heart" bead landed right next to the "sun" bead at the centre. It's just that simple. Your heart shines so brightly that it can attract success. The more you're in alignment with yourself, the better the chance for you to shine and soar. Self alignment can mean various things, self awareness, self compassion, self expansion, all the things that make you become clearer about yourself. In doing so, you can understand your strengths and weaknesses with an objective lens, develop a healthy ego to navigate the world and stand up for yourself, utilise your potentials fully and have a better vision of what you want out of your life (this sounds like an ad for self improvement program)

You being you, truthfully, unapologetically, without any shadow nor hiding, will make everything you strive for easier to grasp. Right now, you might have some fears about expressing yourself fully, showing your creative side, which is precious and a huge treasure. You don't want to be an outcast, being labelled as weird or individualistic. You might have a perfectionist living inside you, constantly criticising and questioning your every move and attempt at doing something creative. Maybe you don't feel confident enough, still thinking that you lack skills or you look at other people and see them getting busy and successful, you begin to doubt your resolution and your ability, no amount of practice is enough in your eyes. This line of thinking is really detrimental to your growth. Looking at other people for inspiration is fine but it can become an obsession, taking other's success as goals to achieve, while ignoring your own brilliance. There's something you need to know, that you don't have to be applauded by a crowd to prove that you're talented and worthy. You will find that, by being yourself and sharing your creativity, slowly and surely, there will be people who appreciate your work, even if they are not the mainstream crowd.

On the subject of the crowd, this group has a bit of similarity with the first group, in the ability to connect with people. But unlike group one, who uses their charm and verbal ability to harmonise and attract people, yours is more about your ability to get into the hearts of other people, through your sensitivity and kindness. This group's soul is like one of the artists. Beauty moves your heart, you see beauty in everything, down to their core, this kind of ardent appreciation will spread to your surroundings, the people around you. It's like you have a subconscious ability to beautify everything, making things softer, more tender, more kind. Don't hide this part of yours, the more you're willing to be transparent and spiritually "naked", the more joy and success will come into your life, for you will be the pure vessel that the universe will pour into endlessly.

GREEN

The quality that stands out the most is your ability to accept and commit to changes, whether those changes are about yourself, your environment, or other outside factors. It's not that you actively seek chaos or transformation just for the sake of shaking things up, but when changes come to you, you don't cower and complain, you accept them and try to find the best possible solution to deal with them, no matter how scared and uncomfortable you feel inside. It's this kind of courage that will help you sail through the ups and downs in life without being sunken and defeated by them.

When you feel afraid or anxious, uneasy in your mind, you actively try to find a solution, a different route of thinking to get out of that unproductive thinking mode. Sometimes you would even seek the very things that make you afraid, to learn more about them, to gain an understanding and to broaden your perspective. When your heart feels weak, you still believe in a better future. In doing so, you attract luck to your side. You would find that whenever you're in a difficult situation, if you keep your faith and your mind open, new understanding and support will come your way, helping you regain stability and inner peace again. Your heart is resilient, even though it might have suffered painful wounds in the past, it still remains optimistic and tries to break away from the clutch of the past. So you don't easily give up when there are hardship and setbacks in your endeavour. Your mind also can think up really out of the box ideas, great innovative ideas that can bring changes to the community, and the society you're in, as long as you give your mind total freedom.

With your resilient heart, your outward aura is very stable and solid, very sure of yourself. You have good self-control, from your body to your mind and your heart. Dark thoughts won't be able to stay in your mind for long, you exercise firm authority on them, not allowing them to sabotage you. Sometimes you can be in a melancholic mood, feeling hopeless or too weary, but you know how to get out of it, centering yourself to the physical reality around you, taking care of yourself and reaffirming your core values. You know how to offset the dark with light, the cold with warmth. When you're stressed, you might choose to do something physical or appreciate the beauty around you, bringing you back to simple happiness. This again points to the sturdiness of your core. You don't seek external validations or nourishment from others, you nourish yourself and shine your own light, you're not the moon waiting for other light to illuminate you and reflecting back that light, you are the sun that give out your light and illuminate others. This self containment, or independence will make you a great leader, or someone who can work independently, actually, any positive won't be daunting to you at all. You can take on lots of stress, not to say that you should, but when working or doing something under pressure, you can still manage the load and work efficiently.

BLUE

Life seems like a never-ending adventure to you. You're not meant to stay in one place, be contented with "normal" life, "normal" means what everyone thinks how life should be, not for you, you're a traveller, a seafarer, constantly following the flow of life. The fluidity of your energy enables you to navigate life situations with grace and ease, not that you're trouble-free or everything is smooth sailing all the time, but you don't get stuck. If you ever find yourself in a predicament, you don't sit and complain, asking why misfortune befell you, you try to find all the information you can get, the lesson you can learn, the most positive outcome and the most opportune moment to turn misfortune into your advantage, rising again, stronger and wiser. You have keen eyes that can notice opportunities from miles away and an open heart that can welcome those opportunities, which makes you seem like a very lucky person to the onlookers.

Your mind is your greatest asset that can make you rise in this world. You don't let valuable information slip through your mind, you examine it with curiosity and intense focus, extract from it the essence that can be used for the future. Your mind is not just geared with sheer laser focus, but also an ability for intuitive abstract thinking, it reminds me of genius, how it can weave all the bits of information into a fantastical picture. If something captured your attention, you would dive deeply into it, try to understand its core. This makes you an excellent researcher or someone who can do works that require focus and resilience. You can also read people accurately right from the first few exchanges and can adjust your approach accordingly. It's not about people pleasing, charming people to get your way, it's tact and understanding, thesr traits will make you greatly attractive, not just on one on one level but also on a bigger scale, in a professional environment or when you need to address a crowd.

Your energy is very balanced between masculine and feminine energy. It's both nurturing and authoritative. Drive and intuition, active and passive, strong yet soft. You shine but you also let others shine too, you don't steal other's light, if anything, you help them shine even brighter. Being with you makes people feel safe, at ease. You allow people to be themselves without ridicule or judgement. But you can also firmly lead people, giving them guidance and security. You can be serious but not rigid and cold, you can be chatty without being superficial, charming without hidden motives. These traits would develop gradually over the years, you will find that as you get older, you'll be more sure of yourself and more confident in front of people, stepping into your authority more, like growing a tree for many years and finally you can enjoy the sweet fruits.

WHITE

Right of the bat, the word "refreshing" came to my mind. You have a unique take on everything, from the most trivial matters to the worldly philosophical thoughts that you have, everything is different from the usual way many people are used to. People would definitely want to come to you when they're stuck in a problem and uninspired, they know that you will always have something unique to say to them, making them more aware of hidden aspects at play and a fresh solution. Problem solving could be one of your greatest skills. But it's not the logical, factual thinking that is usually associated with problem solving, it's highly intuitive. Your mind hovers between the collective thinking and the individual paths each person can have, you can synthesise those two worlds into an abstract thinking system that can get hold of information seemingly out of thin air and mix and match them together flexibly. You instinctively understand what people want and you deliver it, with a new twist. Your ideas are the road to manifest whatever your wishes are.

Not just mentally, but emotionally, you also express yourself truthfully, without trivialise other's emotions or making them feel ignored. You respect emotions, both of yourself and of others, creating an emotionally safe space that can foster trust. Commerce and sales might be the areas where you can express that strong point. Your emotional intelligence also adds charm to your physical appeal. You know how people always praise the eyes that are full of emotions and light? When you're in touch with emotions, your eyes show, and they beckon people to them. Your manner, your aura shows a charm that is real and earthy, nothing elusive or deceptive about it, like walking in an actual orchard instead of looking at it from a picture. You can see, touch, smell, hear all the things happening around you.

You also rarely judge people, if you do, it's not harsh or too triggering. You adopt the mentality of going with the flow, live and let live. You don't demand from people, other than respect for your boundaries and privacy, which you value above all else. Other than those, you let people live their way without imposing your beliefs on them. This open-minded attitude is very important when you're working in a team, you provide ideas, but you likely don't want to control and lead people. Though you could find yourself in the leader position often simply because the one with the good ideas usually is nominated to be the leader. You're fine working for others. But if you're in a leadership, you lead with leniency, allowing enough rooms for individuality to shine.

This might be a bit random, but you can be a good cook or a good decorator. If you're tasked with decorating an event or a living space, or just making anything aesthetically pleasing, you'll be surprised how positive people's receptions are. If this is not something you're aware of about yourself, you should pay more attention to it and develop it, it can open new career opportunities for you.

RED

There's a method to your madness, not that I'm saying you're mad or crazy, but you can think up some outlandish and original ideas, a little bit "out there". What people don't understand is that behind all those seemingly random and genius ideas is a very disciplined spirit. There's logic and sound reasons behind your every action. What people perceived were just the puppets playing on the stage, they didn't see the puppeteer controlling the puppets. Every action and word require fine skill, but you have the ability to make them seem effortless. Your mind is like the sky during a thunderstorm, thoughts and ideas zigzagging, making flashes that blind the eyes. What you say can be very spontaneous or somewhat irrelevant at first glance, but thinking deeper, people can't help but marvel. You might also have a knack of predicting the trends, always one step ahead. Creative careers of course would be very suitable for you, but you can also find success in predictive analytics or education. Your words need to be delivered to the world, they're your greatest contributions.

You have an air of feeling at ease with wherever places you're. You might be someone doing an independent freelance job, but then if suddenly, you're to be placed in the position of leadership or a completely different job, you wouldn't be fazed by it, you go into it as if it's the most natural thing to do, as if you've done this a million times. This air of confidence and ease makes people want to give you opportunities, to trust you with important tasks and jobs.

When you're faced with an unfamiliar subject, you would patiently deconstruct it into an understandable structure. There's an intense focus being put on it, not just to understand it but to master it. To be the object of your focus would akin to being scrutinised and studied by a scientist. You can be a quite obsessive and hyper focused when you're interested in something. Especially when you want to achieve a goal or possess something, you go with all your might, there's no fear, no hang-up involved, because you're not afraid to be judged. Your inner drive roots in the ideal vision you seek, not in simple egotistical desires like wanting to be recognised or praised. You might actually shun publicity or attention, because attention can curb your freedom, which is what you seek and value the most. So you're fine with working behind the screen, as long as you can achieve your goals, and those goals are usually about advancement and improvement of something that can benefit the collective.

[changbunnies]

Devourance (18+)

♡ Pairing: Dracula / Nosferatu!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: vampire au, dracula / nosferatu au, 1800s au, human / vampire relationship, horror themes, reincarnation, soulmates, smut

♡ Word Count: 3.9k

♡ Summary: Hyunjin has crossed oceans of time to find you– the one who's blood calls to him, who beckons for him in the dead of night, who yearns for his touch against all conceptions of what one must and must not desire. The ancient Vampyr has an appetite for you; an appetite that won't ever be sated.

♡ General Warnings: reader has depression (referred to as melancholy), reader is a lucid dreamer, usage of vampire abilities (invading dreams, shapeshifting, heightened senses), hyun's true form is very Creature Vampire so. still sexy if ur a monster fucker like me but some of y'all may not like that lmao

♡ Smut Warnings: does having sex with someone inside their dream count as somnophilia? idk !!, outdoor sex (kind of; it's a dream so they're not really outside lol), wet dreams, pet names (my love, my heart), referenced biting and blood drinking, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: originally, when i was planning my late kinktober fics, this was strictly a dracula au (as i love the 1992 movie and have a beautiful copy of the book sitting in my horror novel collection <3) but i saw the nosferatu remake in theaters and it rotted my fucking brain lmao so this became a blend of both ! i hope you enjoy it, cause i had a blast writing it <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

It starts as a dream; a waking one, so vivid and lucid that the line between conscious reality and imagination blurs, all perception of time and space bending and warping to what your subconscious mind feels most safe and familiar.

Your hands clasped together, a deep breath before you close your teary eyes, your souls desires laid out in a whispered prayer– "Come to me."

Who are you asking for? Who will heed your call? A friend you wish to have, but have yet to obtain? An imaginary prince charming who will right all the wrongs of your life with his presence alone? God himself? Death?

You do not know– all you know is that you are desperate for an escape from the melancholy that permeates your life, seeping its way into every crack of your porcelain heart, as thick and murky black as tar. It sticks to you, wraps itself around every cell, clinging to you in a loveless embrace.

Even in your dreams you cannot escape it; so often you hear tale of joyous dreams. Dreams in which you stand upon the altar, waiting to be wed to the love of your life, dreams in which you share a dinner with one you admire, or dreams in which you have coveted all that you desire.

You are regaled with recollections of dreams full of simple pleasures; warm and nostalgic, dreams of playing in the front yard as a child, with your mother's freshly baked bread wafting to you from the open window. Dreams of early school days, where one's only worry in the world was what they'd play when they got back home.

For some, dreams are entirely nonsensical; there is often no clear purpose, nor story, nor concrete feeling– but it is pleasant in its own right, and entertaining to recall the absurdities in which you found yourself in the middle of.

You do not experience such simple pleasures.

While for others, dreams are a pleasant escape from everyday life, a blissful end to an arduous day of work, your dreams are an extension of your reality. They offer no comfort, nor joy, nor escape from your bleak, mundane existence. You are ever as aware of yourself whilst asleep as you are while conscious, feeling every emotion just as strongly as you do in the light of day.

You wish you could say you have adapted to life with your melancholy, or learned to be at peace with it, or that you don't mind having no escape. But the truth of the matter is that your dreams being not a safe haven as they should be tolls on you, made worse by the fact that even in the sanctuary that should be your mind, you are utterly alone and miserable.

So there you stand in your waking dream, wishing for a change. A mirror of your reality, your status within your dream reflects the state you were in before falling to sleep. You are in your bedroom, as pitch dark as you left it when blowing out the candles, the only illumination coming from the moon shining through your balcony doors.

You stand in the middle of the room, hands clasped and eyes closed as you whisper your prayers, the same lily-white chemise you wore to bed draping your body. So perfect a recreation of your surroundings, that were it not for the fact that you so vividly remember adhering to your sleep routine and laying your head against the pillows, you might not even be able to say that this was a dream at all.

And though it is just the confines of your mind, and you are certain no one but God can hear you (if he will listen, and hasn't yet turned his back on you), you plead. 

"Come to me. A guardian angel, a spirit of comfort, a spirit of any celestial sphere– anyone, anything. Please, hear my call."

There is naught in the room but silence when you are finished; you are as alone with your thoughts as you ever are. You take a breath, blink away building tears, readying yourself to try again– and then, to your greatest surprise, there is a response.

For the first time in all your many dreams, a voice answers you– soft, an indistinct whisper akin to your own, but you hear it echo in the silence of your bedroom. Your eyes shoot open, a soft gasp leaving your parted lips as you look around the room.

Slowly, you lower your hands, taking an unconscious step forward, closer to where the voice calls to you from your balcony. You cannot yet discern what the voice is saying, nor can you see their figure, but you watch breathlessly as the lock on your balcony doors seems to unlatch itself, a sudden gust of wind pushing it open.

The air is cooler than you'd expect for a late spring's breeze, but you do not shiver or shrink away from the sudden chill; instead, you tentatively take another step, following the unfamiliar, beckoning voice. The voice becomes clearer the closer you step to the balcony, and though you see nothing out of the ordinary before you, you feel them.

No, to say you do not see them is not right– invisible in your mortal gaze, yes, but the moon casts their shadow on your wall, your curtains billowing with the steady breeze capturing their inhuman silhouette. And surely it is merely a trick of shadow that makes the figure appear so inhuman– because how else can you grapple with so foreign a creature standing before you?

You rationalize the impossibly tall silhouette as the moon elongating their shadow, the sharp and pointy length of their nails having simply become exaggerated, the unnatural point of their ears the result of a penumbra trick. Their figure vanishes with each fall of your curtains, reappearing with each rise; but their shadow ever lingers, eerie black against your ivory walls.

Their shadow serves as a reminder, you think– that even when you cannot see them, they will be there. Watching, beckoning, waiting; the voice, once so indistinct and otherworldly, is now crystal clear in your ears. Soft but luminous, it calls you as you take another cautious step closer.

"You," the voice starts, and though soft, it is an aching rasp– reminiscent, you think, of when one has fallen ill, or of times when one's throat has grown stiff from disuse. You have no further time to ponder if this is the man's– creature's?– natural inflection; for in just a few more careful utterances, their tone smooths, the soft voice becoming silken.

"You," the male voice repeats, smooth as satin and utterly mesmerizing, "I have heard you. And I answer in turn– come to me."

The shadow moves along your wall then, creeping closer to you; it feels as if it envelops you, embracing you with a blissful warmth you've never before felt. It clings to you with each step, but it does not feel like the melancholic tar you are accustomed to; it is a gentle ribbon, guiding you further with promises of sweetness you have so long craved.

Holding now to the railing of your balcony, you look to the gardens below. There you see him, standing amongst the tall, twisting trees and blooming lilacs. He gazes up at you, eyes black as a void, and yet they still shine in the light of the moon.

And just as a void promises to, his look swallows you whole. You lose yourself in the dark, hypnotic pool of his eyes, stumbling forward almost blindly, with one simple thought– you must go to him.

You are before him in an instant, though you have no recollection or understanding as to how. Did you walk off the balcony and fall below? Did you turn back and trek through the house to make it to the gardens? Is this the absurdity of dreams that normally eludes you, or is a greater power at work?

The answer seems of little importance; bewitched by the man standing before you, you find that logic and rationality hold no value. He is here, perfection and beauty embodied wholly– the answer to your prayers; that is all you care to know.

Your hand trembles, your utmost desire now to reach out and feel him beneath your fingertips, to confirm that he is not just a figment of your dream– that there really was someone in this world who could hear you from beyond, and cared enough to respond to your call.

Hair as black as his eyes, a few long strands falling over his perfect cheekbones, while the rest is tucked behind his normal, and not at all pointed, ears. He has full, plush lips shaded in an enchanting, muted red, with a little mole under his left eye and utterly flawless, pristine skin.

He is ethereal, and radiant, and he is here for you– and while his eyes hold a darkness you have never before seen, his smile is impossibly tender. He takes your trembling hand in his own, and you can feel his nails poke your skin as he closes it around you.

They are long, yes, but not as long and pointed as his shadow would've led you to believe them to be. There is a part of you that decides you were correct to think his features were simply exaggerated and warped by shadow, though the deep recesses of your heart and mind know this isn't true.

Whatever he is, whoever he may be– he is not of this world, you know that for certain. For who else in the world could hear you? Who would have the power to meet you in your mind? A trickster, an angel, a devil? It matters not, you decide; for perhaps, in some ways, you are not of this world either.

Perhaps you have always felt melancholic, twisted, and odd, because your destiny did not reside with your fellow man– perhaps it lied here, with this creature who wears the mask of the beautiful sort of prince charming you've yearned for.

His shadow was the truth of his being, you innately know, and yet it gives you no fear. He squeezes your hand, a reassurance, while the other rises to cup your cheek in his palm, a tender rub of his thumb along the skin where he holds you. His gentle touch is ice cold, but it spreads warmth through your body regardless– because oh, how you've longed for the companionship of another.

"You are for me," he whispers as he inches closer, your noses on the precipice of touching, "and I, you. Do you believe in destiny?" He stares at you, observing you closely as he awaits your answer. You swallow, heart quickening as you hold his gaze.

"Yes," you utter softly; for in the depths of your soul, you feel it– the immutable pull that tells you this is where you must be. Beside him, in his arms, at his side for all eternity– and he will love you, this you know true; because even down to the very marrow of your bones, your body says it is so.

He has searched for you for an age; not someone like you, no. You. Only you. And his delight to finally have heard his beloved's call, and to answer– it is an unparalleled joy, one that he expects you to share. For even in your mortal life, your blood sings for him just the same as it did those many, long centuries ago.

You were promised to him then, as you are now– and he will have you, just as he did then. First in sleep, as you are now, but someday soon he will find you in the physical world once more. He will hold you in his arms, your reunion as joyous as it is profane. Rejoice, as you join him back to your true home; the castle, your castle, where every moment was spent in unholy exuberance.

"Do you remember?" he asks, voice honey-sweet, "remember how we once were?"

You do not, not really– your mind has no recollection of the man before you. But your soul remembers, has carried the weight of centuries of love and longing with it all this time, waiting for the moment all the feelings harbored within could finally be unearthed.

"I know you," you answer, truthfully; because while this is your first meeting in this life, you recognize him all the same. In the deepest recesses of your memory, he is there, gazing upon you with the same reverence he does now. He holds you close, kisses you tender, his touch along your skin slow and gentle, his name a whispered prayer on your lips.

Hyunjin.

His eyes light up when you call his name, a smile growing on his perfect lips. Hyunjin would know you anywhere, and there was never any doubt you were his love– but all the same, it is a great relief to hear his name fall from your lips again after so many years spent longing for it.

He kisses you then, doing his utmost to relay the depths of his passion, while also holding the carnality he feels for you at bay– the last thing he wishes to do is overwhelm you with his appetite too soon. You are his affliction, his every desire, he must have you; and he can only pray that you will not deny him, or yourself, the pleasure– but only when the time is right.

"You will be mine once more," he says; a statement, not a question, between kisses to your lips, "as I am eternally yours." Your nerves tingle, blood alight as you return his affections, meeting his lips with urgency.

"I will have you," he continues, almost breathless as his lips begin to trail down your neck, "Will you swear it? That again, we are for no one but each other?" His breath tickles your skin, the points of two sharp teeth touching the sensitive pulse point. You shiver as his fangs linger there, closing your eyes as your heart thunders in your chest.

Hyunjin can not truly drink from you here, not in the confines of your dream, but his teeth against your neck serve as a reminder– that your blood is his greatest temptation. Should you promise yourself to him once more, he won't be able to resist you– as there is no taste sweeter than the blood of his beloved.

"I swear," you whisper your promise; for you will never fear him, nor can you deny the ecstasy that comes when he drinks from you. “ever-eternally, I am yours.” 

He is a beast of nightmares, a plague set upon the world, a ruinous omen of death, your immortal Vampyr; and you are safe in his hold. For he loves you and needs you too greatly to cause you any harm– an affection that contradicts his nature, but what a welcome contradiction it is. 

When you meet his gaze once more, his eyes burn with desire; it has been an agony, truly, to have such carnal desire for you all these centuries. And he could do naught with his desires but wait– wait for the day you would return to this world, and pray that your body and soul would still sing for him the way it once had. 

Hyunjin could have taken concubines, could’ve shared his castle with any great number of men or women– but they would not have been you. None can sate him the way you can, none can spread such flames of passion through his icy veins, none can make his eternally still heart feel as if it beats. It is not a vain promise when he says you are the only one for him– he means it with every fiber of his immortal being.

Your heart and soul, now free from their sepulchre, burn with need. He can hear the erratic thump of your heart, the blood rushing through your veins, can smell the arousal pooling between your legs. You desire him, just as he desires you– and he decides then that the time is right; there is no need to be cautious and careful with his affections.

You want him, and he wants you– and you will have each other, now and forever.

Hyunjin kisses you once more, hungry and urgent. He pulls your body flush to his own, holds you tightly as the wind rolls quickly past you. You realize, when you pull away to catch a breath, that your surroundings have shifted. Now in the center of the estate’s hedge maze, he lies you down on the stone bench beneath the grand statue of Mnemosyne.

You shiver against the cold stone, but he warms you with another kiss. His tongue meets your lips as his hand dances around the bottom of your chemise, lifting it up just enough to expose your lower half. His hands find your thighs, the points of his nails digging at the soft flesh as he squeezes you in his palms. 

It elicits a needy sound from deep within, one that you almost don’t recognize as your own. You feel the sharp points of his teeth with your tongue, while he spreads your legs apart to make more room for himself between them. He tugs your panties away with haste, and there is no shyness to be had when he separates to look at the way you glisten under the moonlight for him. 

He takes a moment to stare, licks his lips before looking back up to meet your eyes. You hold his gaze as he frees his cock from his trousers, swallowing as you look down for just a moment, and then back up to him. You are both eager, it is clear– and he will have neither of you wait any longer; you have both waited long enough. 

“I will have you,” Hyunjin repeats as he grabs your hips, lifting your bottom up from the stone bench and aligning you with himself. His thighs support you, while his feet stay firmly planted on the grass and stone below. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he removes one of his hands from your hips, using it to find leverage on the stone as he leans over you. 

You can feel his cock pulsing against you, excitement and anticipation building exponentially in your gut. “Mine again,” he whispers as he captures your lips in another kiss, “You are mine, my love.” 

He presses inside you as slowly as he can manage to, and you gasp, hands reaching out to cling to his arms. Thick and full, you let out a shuddering moan when his cock is sheathed fully inside your wet heat. He moans with you, the centuries of building need finally melting into the pure bliss he’d been longing for. 

But he refuses to rush– his thrusts are slow and fluid, precise and calculated, searching for the spot he knows will bring you utmost euphoria. You let out a high-pitched moan, followed by a curse, when he succeeds; and he smiles before he grits his teeth, determined to bring you to the heights of pleasure.

“Hyunjin, oh, please–” you whimper, nails digging into the fabric of his sleeves as he picks up his pace. He wanted to drag it out longer, truly, he did; but the mind is a powerful thing, and even whilst in a dream, the pleasure that you both feel is entirely real. 

And how much longer can one who has held centuries of lust and yearning hold back? Especially when the object of his every desire is moaning and begging for him so sweetly?

He could never resist you– not then, and especially not now. And long has he craved to hear his name spill from your lips like this again; so much so that the sound of it sends him into a frenzy. 

“Again,” he utters, equal parts desperate plea and urgent demand, “call to me, say my name.” You oblige easily, his name falling from your lips in a tantalizing mantra; and you feel his cock throb violently with each salacious whimper, his every thrust laced with desire and urgency.

He releases his grip on your hip, moving his hand to your center and pressing his thumb on your clit. Your breath catches, eyes rolling back as he rubs your clit in steady, practiced circles.

“Cum for me, my love,” Hyunjin urges; he is on the precipice of release himself, and he needs you to fall apart with him– it is the only way he can truly be satisfied. Your thighs tremble, whimpers broken by harsh breaths; and you let go of his arms, reach up to his face and pull him down into a desperate, needy kiss. 

He moans, and if his flesh were mortal, he is sure that goosebumps would’ve risen over every inch of his body. His thrusts lose their fluidity, becoming quick and choppy as he chases the high your body promises him. You clench tighter, toes curling and body quivering as you finally cum, your every moan of pleasure captured by his lips. 

His hips still as his own high takes him, his cock fully pressed inside, his cum spurting in long, sticky spurts. Your kisses are breathless, impassioned, but no longer urgent– they are soft promises of love, of eternity together in bliss.

You smile at him when he pulls away, and he looks at you just as tenderly as he had before, stroking your cheek and indulging in the heat it offers his thumb. You’ve never felt so relaxed, happy and at peace– but just then, you feel a sudden jolt.

It is a sign that your consciousness is returning to reality, and you will soon find yourself back in your bed, with the morning light shining on you from your balcony. Hyunjin, an invader in your mind, feels himself being pushed out– for he can not stay by your side beyond the bounds of your dream just yet. 

There is fear and uncertainty that peaks within you as you fight to stay asleep just a moment longer– but he is quick to calm you, kissing you one last time before you the sun’s rays shine down on you.

“I will find you again in the waking world, my heart,” he says, squeezing your hand in his before he starts to fade once more into shadow, “this, I promise.”

You rise with a start, blinking rapidly and lingering, unshed tears falling from your eyes as you raise your hand to your heart. Just as expected, it is morning now– the late spring sun is bright and warm, and birds chirp in delight as they welcome the dawn of a new day.

You frown, feeling the erratic thumb of your heart beneath your fingertips as the melancholy claws its way back around you, reminding you that it has not left. Your inner thighs are sticky and wet, you realize a short moment later, and for the first time, you blush.

And then you giggle– and the melancholy, though ever present, now has a weaker grasp. You wonder, as you rise from the bed and prepare for your day, how long it will take for Hyunjin to find you. Days, weeks, months? 

You hope it is soon– but if it is not, you know what you will do. Every night, when you blow out the candles and fall asleep, you will call to him. You’ll invite him back into your mind, greet him with a soft kiss, and revel in his tender touch.

You will make love, you will smile, and you will talk of the future with greater enthusiasm than you have ever known– for he is your destiny, your truest love, your one and only immortal Vampyr. Ever-eternally.

[sokosmic]

Astro Observations #8

📧 Scorpio placements love to probe people for information. This is actually something that comes very natural to them and is often an unconscious behavior. Often the Scorpio doesn't even have to do anything. People tend to reveal themselves willingly and unwillingly. This is the nature of Pluto. It naturally uncovers whatever is hidden. Planets in the 8th House can behave this way as well.

📧 The sign in your 3rd House can give clues about the type of work you may be involved in. Because a theme of the 3rd House includes short distance trips, such as your day-to-day commute, the sign ruling this house often goes hand-in-hand with your work. For instance, I have Leo in the 3H. Leo rules government (source: the rulership book by rex e. bills). I have worked in government for almost 20 yrs.

📧 Mutable Signs/Placements move on their own time. Even if they are punctual, their desire to do things when they want takes priority. It's the nature of scattered energy.

📧 Saturn in the 4th House can indicate karma with the mother or native's family. This placement often requires a lot of obligation to the mother/family . The native feels bound by the obligations and often wishes to escape, but may also feel a sense of duty and embrace their role as the glue in the family. Capricorn ruling the 4th House may also manifest this way.

📧 A 1st House Lilith may attract unsolicited sexual energy. These people have a very natural sex appeal that they may or may not be aware of. And it may not be because of what you would identify as things that are overtly sexy

📧 I've noticed a theme among women with Capricorn in 5th House or Ruler of the 10th in the 4th House is they are often stay at home mothers.

📧 People with Pluto square Mercury have a real tendency to try and tear you down with their words. This isn't always the case, but if threatened or feel they need to gain the upper hand in a conversation, they are very likely to lash out with viscous words. Mars square Mercury can behave similarly, but they are usually the folks that tend to cut others off in conversation.

📧 Cancer placements would much rather purchase you an item than to share that item of their own. It's not that they are necessarily stingy, they just like the security of knowing something belongs to them and exactly when they may need to replace it.

📧 Mars in Libra people can be big procrastinators because they have a tendency towards indecisiveness. These are people who sometimes ride the fence because Libra energy can see all sides.

📧 If you've ever had a terrible experience with a supervisor that goes overboard with micro-managing, it is very likely they are Pluto in Virgo generation. These folks thrive off of getting down to the details, and having some sort of control over outcomes, so nothing goes unnoticed...including EVERYTHING you do lol.

📧 People with Cancer in the 6th House or Aquarius Risings may be annoyingly anal, but in a kinda good way, about taking care of their coworkers or things in the workplace. They may tend to stress over things being out of place or generally keeping up with how things should be "taken care of" in the work environment. This stress can lead to gut and stomach issues, such as ulcers or indigestion. Their daily routines often involves them taking care of things to ensure security for themselves and others.

📧 My studies have shown that the North Node sign and placement, often correlates to the native's Life Path number!

📧 Pisces Mercury / Pisces 3rd House folks are some of the most difficult people [for me] to understand at times! Their minds and mode of communication can be very abstract, which isn't hard to follow (especially if you are Mutable/Mercurial like me), but at times it's like you think they are saying one thing, but their theory isn't translating into a relatable, concrete concept. And there's nothing wrong with that. Pisces Mercury people are HIGHLY creative and artistic. These are your fashionistas, makeup artists, musicians, and poets. They also make great actors.

📧 Moon in Gemini folks can be some of the best storytellers! They use lots of funny words and phrases to express their emotions through their stories. They often get a bad rap for switching up often, but to me, they have an impressive way of intertwining emotions and intellect. If I had to describe them in 2 words, it would be plot twist lol.

📧 Neptune in the 5th House can cause pregnancies to be elusive or deceptive in some form, such as false signs of pregnancy or having difficulty carrying pregnancies to term.

These are my observations and opinions. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

-So.Kosmic 👽💜💫

[metanarrates]

Hello. Sorry if this a stupid question u can ignore if u want.

How can someone get better at media analysis? Besides obviously reading a lot.

Im asking this bc im in a point where im aware of my own lack of tools to analyze stories, but i don't know where to get them or how to get better in general. How did you learn to analyze media? There's any specific book, essay, author, etc that you recommend? Somewhere to start?

I'm asking you because you are genuinely the person who has the best takes on this site. Thank you for you work!

it sounds like a cop-out answer but it's always felt like a skill I acquired mostly thru reading a ton, and by paying a lot of attention in high school literature classes. because of that I can't promise that I'm necessarily equipped to be a good teacher or that i know good resources. HOWEVER! let me run some potential advice to you based on the shit i get a lot of mileage out of

first off, a lot of literary analysis is about pattern recognition! not just pattern recognition in-text, but out-of-text as well. how does this work relate to its genre? real-world history? does it have parallels between real-life situations? that kind of thing.

which is a big concept to just describe off the bat, so let me break it down further!

in literature, there is the concept of something called literary devices - they are some of the basic building blocks in how a story is delivered mechanically and via subtext. have you ever heard of a motif? that is a literary device. it's a pattern established in the text in order to further the storytelling! and here is a list of a ton of common literary devices - I'd recommend reading the article. it breaks down a lot of commonly used ones in prose and poetry and explains their usage.

personally, I don't find all the literary devices I've learned about in school to be the most useful to my analytical hobbies online. motifs, themes, and metaphors are useful and dissecting them can bring a lot to the table, but a lot of other devices are mostly like fun bonus trivia for me to notice when reading. however, memorizing those terms and trying to notice them in the things you read does have a distinct benefit - it encourages you to start noticing patterns, and to start thinking of the mechanical way a story is built. sure, thinking about how the prose is constructed might not help you understand the story much more, but it does make you start thinking about how things like prose contribute to the greater feeling of a piece, or how the formatting of a piece contributes to its overall narrative. you'll start developing this habit of picking out little things about a text, which is useful.

other forms of in-text pattern recognition can be about things like characterization! how does a character react to a certain situation? is it consistent with how they usually behave? what might that tell you about how they think? do they have tells that show when they're not being trustworthy? does their viewpoint always match what is happening on screen? what ideas do they have about how the world works? how are they influenced by other people in their lives? by social contexts that might exist? by situations that have affected them? (on that note, how do situations affect other situations?)

another one is just straight-up noticing themes in a work. is there a certain idea that keeps getting brought up? what is the work trying to say about that idea? if it's being brought up often, it's probably worth paying attention to!

that goes for any pattern, actually. if you notice something, it's worth thinking about why it might be there. try considering things like potential subtext, or what a technique might be trying to convey to a reader. even if you can't explain why every element of a text is there, you'll often gain something by trying to think about why something exists in a story.

^ sometimes the answer to that question is not always "because it's intentional" or even "because it was a good choice for the storytelling." authors frequently make choices that suck shit (I am a known complainer about choices that suck shit.) that's also worth thinking about. english classes won't encourage this line of thinking, because they're trying to get you to approach texts with intentional thought instead of writing them off. I appreciate that goal, genuinely, but I do think it hampers people's enthusiasm for analysis if they're not also being encouraged to analyze why they think something doesn't work well in a story. sometimes something sucks and it makes new students mad if they're not allowed to talk about it sucking! I'll get into that later - knowing how and why something doesn't work is also a valuable skill. being an informed and analytical hater will get you far in life.

so that's in-work literary analysis. id also recommend annotating your pages/pdfs or keeping a notebook if you want to close-read a work. keeping track of your thoughts while reading even if they're not "clever" or whatever encourages you to pay attention to a text and to draw patterns. it's very useful!

now, for out-of-work literary analysis! it's worth synthesizing something within its context. what social settings did this work come from? was it commenting on something in real life? is it responding to some aspects of history or current events? how does it relate to its genre? does it deviate from genre trends, commentate on them, or overall conform to its genre? where did the literary techniques it's using come from - does it have any big stylistic influences? is it referencing any other texts?

and if you don't know the answer to a bunch of these questions and want to know, RESEARCH IS YOUR FRIEND! look up historical events and social movements if you're reading a work from a place or time you're not familiar with. if you don't know much about a genre, look into what are considered common genre elements! see if you can find anyone talking about artistic movements, or read the texts that a work might be referencing! all of these things will give you a far more holistic view of a work.

as for your own personal reaction to & understanding of a work... so I've given the advice before that it's good to think about your own personal reactions to a story, and what you enjoy or dislike about it. while this is true that a lot of this is a baseline jumping-off point on how I personally conduct analysis, it's incomplete advice. you should not just be thinking about what you enjoy or dislike - you should also be thinking about why it works or doesn't work for you. if you've gotten a better grasp on story mechanics by practicing the types of pattern recognition i recognized above, you can start digging into how those storytelling techniques have affected you. did you enjoy this part of a story? what made it work well? what techniques built tension, or delivered well on conflict? what about if you thought it sucked? what aspects of storytelling might have failed?

sometimes the answer to this is highly subjective and personal. I'm slightly romance-averse because I am aromantic, so a lot of romance plots will simply bore me or actively annoy me. I try not to let that personal taste factor too much into serious critiques, though of course I will talk about why I find something boring and lament it wasn't done better lol. we're only human. just be aware of those personal taste quirks and factor them into analysis because it will help you be a bit more objective lol

but if it's not fully influenced by personal taste, you should get in the habit of building little theses about why a story affected you in a certain way. for example, "I felt bored and tired at this point in a plot, which may be due to poor pacing & handling of conflict." or "I felt excited at this point in the plot, because established tensions continued to get more complex and captured my interest." or "I liked this plot point because it iterated on an established theme in a way that brought interesting angles to how the story handled the theme." again, it's just a good way to think about how and why storytelling functions.

uh let's see what else. analysis is a collaborative activity! you can learn a lot from seeing how other people analyze! if you enjoy something a lot, try looking into scholarly articles on it, or youtube videos, or essays online! develop opinions also about how THOSE articles and essays etc conduct analysis, and why you might think those analyses are correct or incorrect! sometimes analyses suck shit and developing a counterargument will help you think harder about the topic in question! think about audience reactions and how those are created by the text! talk to friends! send asks to meta blogs you really like maybe sometimes

find angles of analysis that interest and excite you! if you're interested in feminist lenses on a work, or racial lenses, or philosophical lenses, look into how people conduct those sort of analyses on other works. (eg. search feminist analysis of hamlet, or something similar so you can learn how that style of analysis generally functions) and then try applying those lenses to the story you're looking at. a lot of analysts have a toolkit of lenses they tend to cycle through when approaching a new text - it might not be a bad idea to acquire a few favored lenses of your own.

also, most of my advice is literary advice, since you can broadly apply many skills you learn in literary analysis to any other form of storytelling, but if you're looking at another medium, like a game or cartoon, maybe look up some stuff about things like ludonarrative storytelling or visual storytelling! familiarizing yourself with the specific techniques common to a certain medium will only help you get better at understanding what you're seeing.

above all else, approach everything with intellectual curiosity and sincerity. even if you're sincerely curious about why something sucks, letting yourself gain information and potentially learning something new or being humbled in the process will help you grow. it's okay to not have all the answers, or to just be flat-out wrong sometimes. continuing to practice is a valuable intellectual pursuit even if it can mean feeling a tad stupid sometimes. don't be scared to ask questions. get comfortable sometimes with the fact that the answer you'll arrive at after a lot of thought and effort will be "I don't fully know." sometimes you don't know and that can be valuable in its own right!

thank you for the ask, and I hope you find this helpful!

[p0orbaby]

She’ll Know Me Crazy, Soothe Me Daily

summary: you go into labour (leah’s version)

warnings: mentions of pregnancy and labour, who’d have guessed

a/n: i got a request for this and dropped everything at work to write it so if i get fired it’s your fault !

word count: 1.8k

-

It’s three a.m., and you’re lying in bed in that half-dream, half-wake state, thinking about nothing and everything at once—plans, names, logistics, the strange feeling in your back, how Leah’s snoring sounds almost like a broken radiator. You’d drifted off earlier with the usual suspects on your mind—last-minute nursery tweaks, what it’d be like to actually meet this new person, how you’re supposed to keep them alive once they’re here.

Then suddenly you’re very awake. And aware. The kind of aware that has you blinking up at the ceiling, trying to gauge if you’re imagining this, if maybe it’s all just part of the anxious last-few-weeks-of-pregnancy weirdness. But no, no. It’s real. The sensation you’d ignored all night is now gripping you in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

Your waters have broken.

You’re in labour.

In the midst of grappling with this sudden, primal realisation that your body is not only capable of this but actively doing it, your first instinct is to look to Leah. After all, this is the same Leah who can keep her head in the midst of a stadium of screaming fans, who’s always told you, right up until yesterday, that she’s “got this, babe.” The same Leah who’s been planning this night in her head like a military operation—bags packed, snacks labelled, an entire eight-page birth plan on the kitchen counter with sections highlighted in three colours. She’s got this.

You roll over and give her a shake. “Leah,” you hiss, breath short and tight, like you’re hoping the urgency will slip through the layers of her sleep.

She doesn’t stir. Instead, she mumbles something incoherent and continues snoring, entirely oblivious to the fact that you are, in real time, about to bring a whole new human into the world.

“Leah,” you say, louder now, and with a sharper jab to her shoulder. “Leah, wake up. My waters just broke”

This gets her. She bolts upright, eyes bleary and unfocused, looking around with all the awareness of someone woken up by a fire alarm. She has one sock on and her hair is falling out of her bun in every direction, sticking to her forehead in curls that make her look, for lack of a better description, entirely unhinged. What?” she blurts, looking at you like you’ve just told her the moon’s fallen out of orbit.

“I said, my waters just broke. I’m in labour”

She stares at you blankly, and then at the clock. “Now? Like…now, now?”

“Yes, now, Leah. That’s how it works”

“Oh… oh my god. Okay. Right.” She throws herself out of bed, hands flailing a bit in what could generously be called an attempt to find her balance, looking every bit like she’s just woken up in the middle of a burning building. She blinks, rubs her face, and then stares around the room with all the sharp focus of someone who’s lost all concept of time, place, and purpose.

She begins moving around the room, grabbing objects seemingly at random—a pair of your slippers, a half-empty water bottle, the book she’s been reading that she still hasn’t finished because every time she gets to a chapter break she’s distracted by some tangent or half-thought that spirals out of control. You watch as she picks up her phone, only to immediately drop it in a panic.

You try not to laugh. You fail, slightly, but she’s too distracted to notice.

“Hospital bag,” you remind her. “By the door”

“Right, yes. The hospital bag.” She says it with the blankness of someone who’s just been reminded of the existence of the universe itself. She nods emphatically, almost comically, and rushes out of the room, one sock on, one sock off, muttering, “Hospital bag. Yes. By the door. Got it”

For a few blissful seconds, she’s out of the room, and you can breathe, collecting yourself in the strange solitude. You can’t help but feel a strange, surreal amusement in the whole thing—after months of birthing classes, of Leah listening intently to the instructor, nodding along like she was studying for the final exam, of stacks of books and bookmarked articles and quiet reassurances that she’d be ready…she’s now charging through the house like a headless chicken, her panic almost louder than the quiet early-morning calm.

She’s back in less than a minute, looking absolutely horrified. “It’s… it’s not there”

“What do you mean, it’s not there?”

“I mean it’s not—by the door. I don’t see it. Did we…did we put it somewhere else?” She’s visibly panicking now, eyes wide and darting around as if the bag might materialise if she looks in enough absurdly irrelevant places, like the windowsill or behind the potted plant.

“It’s by the door,” you repeat, managing to keep your tone steady and encouraging, despite the fact that you’re, oh right, currently in labour.

“Right,” she says again, nodding in a way that looks almost mechanical. “Right, yes. By the door. Of course”

She’s off, scrambling out of the room with one sock half-off, muttering the word “bag” to herself like it’s some kind of holy incantation. The momentary peace of her absence gives you a moment to focus on your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling in slow, measured counts, trying to recall the absurd number of hours you spent watching labour tutorials and wondering if any of that information will come back to you now, in the thick of it.

Moments later, she returns, this time clutching the bag triumphantly in one hand. Her face is a strange mix of pride and exasperation, like she’s just conquered Everest but is deeply unimpressed with the mountain.

“Got it,” she announces, as if the sheer act of retrieving it from the entryway deserves some sort of medal. She sets the bag down on the bed with an air of absolute finality, as though the weight of the world has been lifted from her shoulders.

You smile at her, keeping your voice calm. “Alright, love. Let’s get dressed and head out”

“Dressed,” she echoes, her face going blank again as if the concept of clothes is suddenly beyond her comprehension.

“Yes, Leah. Clothes. You might want to put some on”

For a long moment, she stares at the wardrobe as though it’s some kind of cryptic puzzle. Then, with an almost bewildered shake of her head, she pulls it open and begins pulling out clothes at random—a pair of jeans, a jumper she only wears when it’s freezing, and, inexplicably, a thick wool scarf.

“Leah, it’s June”

She freezes mid-scarf-wrap, blinks, and slowly unwinds it. “Right, yeah. June. Good. Warm.” She tosses the scarf aside, looking faintly sheepish.

“Hang on… should I call someone? I feel like we should call someone. Do we… call 999? Or is that just for emergencies?”

“Leah,” you manage between breaths, “this is an emergency. It’s literally… labour. It’s happening right now”

“Right! Emergency.” She nods rapidly, like a bobblehead on overdrive, and jabs at her phone screen with so much intensity that it nearly flies out of her hand. She stops mid-dial, eyes wide with panic. “Wait. No, no…maybe we just drive there? Or do they… do they send someone?”

You look at her, trying not to let your exasperation show through the mounting pain. “Leah, we’re just going to drive. We’ve been through this.”

“Right. Yes. Driving. Of course. I knew that.” She shakes her head like she’s trying to physically dislodge the panic, muttering, “I’m just—okay. Drive. Right. Okay.” She finally lets go of her phone and starts making her way toward the door, muttering things like, “Got it. We’ve got this,” in a way that sounds more like she’s trying to reassure herself than you.

But then she stops. Turns. Looks back at you, blinking in realisation. “Are you…are you alright?”

“I’m in labour,” you say with a thin smile, “so no. Not really. But let’s keep going”

“Right, yeah. That makes sense.” She nods like you’ve just imparted some deep wisdom, like the words in labour contain ancient knowledge previously unknown to her.

By now, another contraction has hit, and you’re clutching the edge of the bed, breathing through it with every bit of focus you can muster. Leah watches, horrified, looking like she might faint just from witnessing the sheer audacity of labour itself.

“Should I… is there something I can… I don’t know, can I do something?” She’s hovering now, looking at you helplessly like she’s waiting for you to hand her a to-do list.

You grit your teeth, squeezing out a reply. “Just… breathe. With me. Okay? In… and out”

She takes a shaky breath, her hand rising and falling in time with yours as if synchronising her breathing might somehow keep you both tethered to reality. For a moment, it’s almost peaceful, the two of you breathing in unison, a strange little pocket of calm amid the chaos.

And then, just as quickly, the panic is back.

“Wait. Snacks. We’re going to need snacks”

“Snacks?” you manage, halfway between a groan and a laugh.

“Yes. For energy. They said snacks are crucial.” She’s already halfway to the kitchen before you can protest, practically flinging open cupboards and rummaging through drawers with the frantic energy of someone who’s just realised they’re on an episode of MasterChef and has thirty seconds left on the clock. She emerges with an armful of items that make absolutely no sense together—a banana, a bag of crisps, two protein bars, and, inexplicably, a tin of chickpeas.

You stare at the tin in her hands. “Leah, we’re not bringing chickpeas”

“They’re protein,” she says, with a ridiculous level of conviction.

You watch, trying desperately not to laugh as she rummages through drawers, muttering about water bottles and phone chargers and—god help you both—“emergency blankets.” She’s wearing one shoe, and her sock has somehow ended up on her hand, and she’s pacing so frenetically that she nearly trips over her own feet at least twice.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to corral her towards the door, where she stops suddenly, wide-eyed and visibly distressed.

“Wait!” she exclaims, her hand shooting out to grip your arm in sheer, abject horror. “The… the speaker for the birthing playlist!”

You stare at her blankly for a moment before realising that, yes, she’s referring to the hours-long playlist she’d meticulously curated in the months leading up to this moment—a mix of calming piano tracks, soothing instrumentals, and, inexplicably, a handful of 80s power ballads that she swore would “keep the energy up.”

“We… we don’t have time for the speaker, Leah”

She looks at you like you’ve just suggested abandoning a child. “But you… we planned it. I spent hours on Spotify—”

“We don’t need the speaker,” you tell her, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm. You’re at the door, shoes on, bag in hand, and if she doesn’t start moving soon, you’re fairly certain you’ll be having this baby right here in the hallway.

She stares at you, visibly torn, before finally nodding, reluctantly. “Right. No speaker. We can…we’ll improvise”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “We’ll improvise”

And finally—finally—she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and steps out the door, hand in yours, still muttering under her breath about the playlist, about snacks, about breathing techniques and birthing balls and god knows what else.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

huh...

Recently I was researching Malleus in preparation to write some things for my "10 years later" blog event. And you know what I noticed?

MALLEUS SEEMS TO HAVE LIKE NO CLEARLY STATED POLICY POSITIONS WHATSOEVER 💀 Across 4+ years of content (voice lines, vignettes, events, main story, etc.), Malleus does not really indicate how he plans to rule once he ascends to the throne. I keep thinking I missed something and go back to comb over everything, but I swear to you that it was pretty threadbare. The closest examples I could find were him being familiar with the concept of noblesse oblige (those of higher status have a duty to aid the weak), thinking it prudent to maintain friendly relationships with representatives of foreign lands, and going along with various traditions and ceremonies. I guess you can also throw in Malleus saying he was told by his grandma that the Draconias are meant to use their powers to protect the smiles of their people? But there's nothing concrete, like how exactly Malleus would achieve his goals once in power or what his specific goals are. (This is not counting fan speculation, such as him potentially eliminating the current senate due to how they treated Lilia so callously.)

Malleus will often talk about how the things he's experiencing are different than what he knows of back home. Malleus will talk about how others wait on him (his birthday is a national holiday, he has private chefs and tutors, etc.). But he doesn't talk about how he would rule. That's like... so wild to me considering that he's the crown prince of Briar Valley. I would have expected at least one or two dedicated voice lines about such a BIG for Malleus, especially with how often he speaks about himself being a royal and being groomed for the position of future ruler of his nation. Malleus sometimes shares about his grandmother, who is the current ruler, but again never specifies what her ruling style is like or what her policies are like. It's also strange to me that Sebek, Silver, and Lilia also never speak about Malleus's positions on anything. The best we get is Lilia trying to encourage Malleus to get out of his comfort zone more and to make the most of his time to learn about his non-fae peers. That doesn't speak to any of his current thoughts though, only what Lilia hopes will enhance Malleus's understanding now and perhaps inform his decisions in the future. We're mostly left to assume how Briar Valley's political landscape works--but even then, there's not much to make of it, besides being aware of the senate, a reliance on magic, and the general adversity to humans and technology.

Compare this to Leona, the other prince of the cast (not counting Silver, since he learns of his prince heritage very late into the main story and may not even feasibly have a country or people to his name anymore). Leona is the second prince of Sunset Savanna, meaning he's not even expected to become king someday--yet we consistently hear what his thoughts on policies and political planning are. He comments that he worries for his country's future due to how lax, kind-hearted, and extravagant his older brother and acting king Falena is. On top of that, Leona's own views on what would most benefit his country are explicitly laid out. He doesn't care much for stuffy traditions or living in harmony with nature (a value many of his countrymen have); he prioritizes progress and thinks proactively about it. Even on his own birthday, Leona talks about how the gift he received from Falena could be better served as a gift to a neighboring country to bolster the relationship between their nations. The mining and energy internship he chooses in book 7 is also geared towards making sustainable advancements back home (presumably to make use of his country’s natural resources while minimizing damage to the land). We get a very clear sense of how Leona would go about improving his country, even if not from the position of king and even if his ideas wouldn’t be received well by his people or by the land. (If this topic interests you, then please check out this post, where I discuss Leona vs Falena's priorities and ruling styles.)

So what's up with Malleus, an actual king-to-be, not talking about politics at all????? Is it maybe just something Malleus is not thinking about (it's possible that he could become king much later in life, since he’s not considered an “adult” until 1000 years old)? Is he maybe focusing on his current school experience? Or is it that he just... keeps the plans to himself since they aren't immediately relevant? Or is it that he feels he doesn't need to implement many changes once he does become king (since he seems to already be accustomed to his grandmother's way of ruling), so there's no need for him to consider it now? (Briar Valley itself and Malleus are particularly old-fashioned and appear to have issues adapting or changing with the times.) Is it that Malleus secretly dreads his ascension because it means he can no longer go back to his carefree school days? Maybe it's just the Twst devs intentionally keeping Briar Valley vague for meta reasons/to maintain Diasomnia's mystique??? It could be any combination of reasons.

I guess I'm a little frustrated myself at this realization because a personal gripe I have with Malleus is how he's treated and talked about like he's a great leader (especially by Diasomnia; *stares at Sebek shouting and Lilia's book 2 speech*), but we never get real instances of him acting like that great leader he supposedly is. It feels like lip service (think about how often Diasomnia and the general cast hypes him up) without him being able to back it up. When has Malleus led anyone in a serious group effort? How does he intend to lead in the future? I feel like it's mostly him wandering off to do his own thing or to clear the challenge with his OP-ness. But if Twst is really going to sell us on Malleus being a "great leader", then he should be given more chances to be one. It's such a wasted opportunity that we don't get to know more about this. The only instance I can think of (off the top of my head) where Malleus "leads" is GloMasq, and even then I don't know if I would count it??? Because Malleus isn't really leading the group so much as he is tagging along with them because there's safety in numbers given the situation. Everyone else throws themselves out there to protect him and the other event SSRs... and the way Malleus acts kind of implies he would march up that tower and try to decimate Rollo with or without anyone's help if he could. That doesn't really read to me as him taking charge, even if he's technically going to these great lengths to protect his country, which primarily relies on magic (ie their way of life would be destroyed if Rollo's plan succeeds). Maybe I'm missing something though??? If you can think of any examples of Malleus being a leader and/or times when he mentions how he'd rule Briar Valley, let me know. it's very possible that I have overlooked an example, given the extensive amount of content out at the moment. Sharing general thoughts on this topic is also fine.

[erinwantstowrite]

What is the extent of the spider sense in LOF? Like does it only focus on general danger which could affect a lot of ppl (including peter) or would it also get peter to stop someone from poisoning themselves (alt: stop tim from eating a salami or smth HAHA)

i've been meaning to ramble about his spider-sense for everybody and i'm using this ask as my excuse tyyyyy

his spider-sense as we read it isn't exactly what's actually happening. for the readers, we see:

!!! or ??? or even words like 'MOVE!!!"

but that's mostly for our benefit. it's like a comic book page but in fanfic format. i took a page out of ITSV for this concept (because this scene where everything goes silent and Miles gets that spider-sense for the first time??? BRILLIANT)

peter's not hearing these words or even aware of them, he's feeling his spider-sense and interpreting what is going on. the words and stuff is so we as readers know what's happening and what the clue is + it's us figuring out at the same time as peter what is being "said."

and that's because his spider-sense is a mix of all of his senses!! i kept the danger detection but i added a mix of it being that all those tiny spider hairs on peter's body are helping him "see" the world in a far different way than humans. all of his senses are tuned up so high that it creates the "spidey-sense" that i write in LoF. so when we see 'get away' or 'run' or 'jump!' or 'catch!' it's not just the detection of his spider-sense and it feeling 'danger', but that peter had subconsciously seen signs that something is going to happen, or heard something. like when Haley took off in chapter 16 and Peter's spider-sense picked up on it, it was because Peter had seen her muscles tensing and saw her look over, but he didn't consciously recognize it. his body i smore aware of what's going on than peter's mind is, and that's a good thing because if peter were even more fine tuned into his senses he would stay overwhelmed.

(this is where some batman training would come in... picking up the clues faster without overwhelming himself. peter also needs someone to train him on how to rely on the spider-sense. no one in the Avengers really knows what this is like for him and so he's entirely self-taught when it comes to his spider-sense, whereas the Justice League has more experience, and also batman.)

so yeah!! if Tim was about to eat salami (for anyone still confused by that, people without spleens need to avoid eating processed meats), Peter would likely pick up on it and that spider-sense would tingle. he's far more aware of his surroundings than what shows when you look at him

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

will you please give us examples of resources to look at if we want to learn more about the concept of gender and maybe even transness in Medieval Europe? thanks!

whooooo boy right, there's a lot! I wanna start this by saying that I am very much not an expert, and I only have access to stuff I can find for free and the handful of books I can afford to buy second hand. Most of my research has been around gender as it relates to transness and GNC people. I am absolutely missing stuff, or have forgotten stuff, or simply lack the know-how to find stuff.

There's a few bits I've got on a TBR but haven't read yet - some I've included and some I haven't, depending on the source and how established it is.

Also: this is medieval Europe. The way pronouns are used to describe people don't really align with modern views of sex and gender. Also be aware of old-fashioned language use (for example, some texts talk about "hermaphrodites"). Remember that the way we talk about gender and trans identities is far different to how we even spoke about it 20 years ago.

So with that out of the way... I am chucking this under a read more, because it's long:

---

GENDER

Medieval ideas around gender were different to how we now think about it. The Hippocratic view of gender saw gender as a sort of wet/dry, cold/hot spectrum upon which men were at one end and women the other (and in the middle were intersex people). The male body was seen as hot and dry, and the female as cold and wet. The cold, wetness is what made women try to seek out heat from guys. A lot comes down to humors rather than genitals - if you're hot and dry, that innately means you grow a penis, because the heat sorta forces it out. So the marker is that penis = man, but you only have that penis in the first place because of your hot, dry humor.

Some people believed the vagina was an inverted penis - as in, the penis turned outside in. Some schools of thought believed that both men and women produced "seed", and that both were needed for conception. These thoughts and ideas shifted around a lot.

The Hippocratic view shifted towards Aristotelian ideas around the 12th Century, where the male/female divide was a lot stronger. There were also surgeons throughout all these periods who sought to "correct" intersex genitalia with surgery (how little things change).

This podcast (I've linked to a transcript, because I have more time to read than listen to things) with Dr Eleanor Janega is super interesting. In fact, I'd recommend reading her whole blog, which is fascinating. She also has a book out (but I've not read it so I can't give a yay or nay on that one)

The Meanings of Sex Difference in the Middle Ages by Joan Cadden seems to be a good source on this, but I've not read it so I can't vouch for it 100%.

I've listed below some real people who could fit into our modern interpretation of transness, and the fact that all of these people were only "outed" when arrested or at their death makes me think that there were probably a lot more people at the time who would also fit into this category. It does feel (to me, a layman) that you could rock up in a new town and go "hello I'm Jeff the Man" and people would just accept that.

It's also important to note that the majority of sources I've found are about people we could define as trans men (FTM). I've only found one person who could be described as a trans woman. If anyone out there has more sources for trans women, I'd love to hear them - specifically in medieval Europe/England.

There's also a big discussion to be had around the idea of women dressing as men to achieve a goal. People love getting into arguments about it. My general rule is that if someone lived as X gender, and was forcibly outed against their will or at death, then I feel we can more safely assume that their experience maps more closely onto a trans narrative than it does one of a woman taking on the "disguise" of a man.

---

TRANS & GNC ACADEMIA

Here's some of the sources I've been using that examine medievalism through a trans or trans-adjacent lens.

Trans and Genderqueer Subjects in Medieval Hagiography, Alicia Spencer-Hall & Blake Gutt - a deep dive/collection of essays about medieval religious figures/saints through a trans lens, specifically about cross-dressing figures. Really fascinating, and available on open access.

How to be a Man, Though Female: Changing Sex in Medieval Romance, Angela Jane Weisl - goes into detail about medieval texts in which characters change their sex.

Transgender Genealogy in Tristan de Nanteuil, Blake Gutt - trans theory in the story Tristan de Nanteuil.

Trans Historical: Gender Plurality before the Modern, edited by Greta LaFleur, Masha Raskolnikov & Anna Kłosowska - A great big examination into trans history/gender. I desperately want this book.

Clothes Make the Man, Female Cross Dressing in Medieval Europe, Valerie R. Hotchkiss (book, no online source available) - Another look into women dressing as men and gender inversion.

The Shape of Sex, Leah DeVun (book) - A history of nonbinary sex, 200 - 1400BC. Not read this one yet but it's on my TBR.

In fact, I'd recommend all of Leah DeVun's work, which I'm currently making my way through. I'm currently reading Mapping the Borders of Sex.

The Third Gender and Aelfric's Lives of Saints, Rhonda L. McDaniel - An examination into the idea of a "third gender" in monastic life based around chastity and spiritualism

Erecting Sex: Hermaphrodites and the Medieval Science of Surgery, Leah DeVun - an essay about "corrective" surgery on intersex individuals in the 13th/14th centuries. (I've not fully read this one yet but the topic is relevant)

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TRANS FIGURES

Joseph/Hildegund (died 1188) - A monk who, upon his death, was discovered to have a vagina/breasts.

Eleanor Rykener (1394) - A (likely) trans sex worker arrested in 1394 (and another source that isn't wiki)

Katherina Hetzeldorfer (killed 1477) - An early record of a "woman" being executed for female sodomy. Katherina dressed and presented as a man, and some scholars read them as a trans man.

Marinos/Marina the Monk (5th Cent) - A monk who was born a woman and lived as a man in a monastery. Marinos was accused of getting a local innkeeper's daughter pregnant. Their "true sex" was discovered upon their death.

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ROMANCES* & GENDER

If you're interested in the idea of gender presentation and trans-adjacent stories, I very much recommend taking a look at some contemporary sources. I've tried to take a sort of neutral approach to pronouns for these descriptions, but it's hard to marry the medieval and modern ideas of sex and gender! The titles are all links.

*Romances here means Chivalric Romances: prose/verse narratives about chivalry, often with fantastic elements. Not, like, falling in love Romances.

Le Roman de Silence (13th Cent) - in order to ensure inheritance, a couple raise their daughter as a boy. The baby is called Silence/Silentius/Silentia. The poem features the forces of Nature and Nurture, who argue about Silence's "true" gender - Nature claims they're a girl, and Nurture claims they're a boy. Silence has a variety of adventures, largely referred to in the text as a man with he/him pronouns, and at the end their "true gender" is discovered and, as a woman, they marry the king.

Yde et Olive (15th Cent) - to avoid being married to their own father, Yde, a woman, disguises themselves as a man and becomes a knight. They end up in Rome, where the king marries them to their daughter, Olive. After a couple of weeks, Yde tells Olive about their "true gender", but the conversation is overheard. The King demands Yde bathe with him to prove they are a man. An angel intervenes and transforms Yde's body into that of a man.

Iphis and Ianthe (Greek/Roman myth, but also in Ovid's Metamorphois, which first came to England in the 15th Cent) - Telethusa is due to give birth, but her husband tells her that if the baby is a girl he'll have it killed. When she gives birth to a girl, she disguises the baby as a boy. Eventually, Iphis is engaged to Ianthe. (Incidentally, this is also a really early example of same-sex romance, as Iphis struggles with their love for Ianthe "as a woman"). Before the wedding, Iphis and Telethusa pray at the temple of Isis, who transforms Iphis into a man.

Tristan de Nanteuil (11th/12th Cent) - from the Chanson de geste, after his alleged death, Tristan's wife, Blanchandin/e, disguises themselves as a Knight. Clarinde, a sultan's daughter, falls in love with them. Blanchandin manages to hide their "true sex", but when Clarinde demands they bathe with her to prove they are a man they flee into the woods. There, they meet an angel who asks if they want to be transformed into a man. Blanchandin accepts and he is turned into a man for the rest of the poem. (Incidentally the angel gives him a giant cock. Yes, the text specifies this).

Le Livre de la mutation de fortune (1403) - written in the first person by Christine de Pizan, the poem describes how the narrator is transformed by Fortune into a man after the death of their husband during a storm at sea. They maintain that 13 years after the event, they are still living as a man. (They also mention Tiresias, a Greek mythological figure who was a man transformed into a woman for seven years).

Okay, for now - that's about all I can think of. Happy reading!

[monayen]

idk if I requested this already or if I dreamt it? so sorry if you get this twice 💦

can you please sort the ivory household + satoru + the ratmen into categories that are sort of like "knows where the clit is", "knows about it but can’t find it" and "has no idea what it is"? thanx ❤️

➷ Paring - Multi x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - explicit afab reader, oral (f. recieving) / cunnilingus, fingering, slight sadism (from nyen)

a/n - might be too similar to the coochie eating headcannons but i find this funny so i will be doing it anyways. also im going to default using this banner when its group headcannons :0

- Knows where the clit is

Luther

Very knowledgeable! Studies human anatomy in depth to get to better know you. Books and webpages… but he knows that nothing compares to the thrill of hands-on experience

Lay down on a table and spread your legs for him while he sits before you. Luther will settle himself between your thighs, one large hand resting possessively on your lower belly, just above the apex of your sex. His his other hand delicately spreads your folds apart, watching for your sweet reactions as he thumbs your clit

Luther knows how precious and sensitive this part of you is, and he makes sure to handle you with the utmost reverence

Nyon

Is a generous and attentive lover – a through and through giver. So he has plenty of experience being down there

When Nyon kneels before you, his face buried between your parted thighs, he really is in his element

He doesn't like to tear his eyes away but even if his eyes were shut, he’d still be able to find your clit perfectly with a swipe of his tongue and a quiver of your thighs. Is humble, but he does take pride in it :)

Satoru

Obsessed with every little part of you. Any touch that has you squirming and moaning beneath him will forever be etched into his sentience. So discovering how rubbing your sensitive clit makes you writhe and arch so beautifully beneath him... it's practically a dream come true! (get it?)

Likes to think he teases, slowly tracing circles around your bud, building the tension until it's nearly unbearable. But his own desire quickly overwhelms him, and soon he's palm-fucking you with a frenzied intensity that leaves you breathless and clutching at the sheets

- Knows what it is but can't find it

Nyen

Maybe less of “can't find it” but more “doesn't touch it” So mean!

Nyen is well aware of how sensitive your clit is, and being the sadistic creature he is, he takes great pleasure in denying you the satisfaction of having it touched. Even when he does allow himself to make contact, Nyen uses his sharp nails to send jolts of painful pleasure coursing through your body

Knows that denying you the bliss of rubbing your aching clit means that you'll be writhing in agony, pleading for any type of release. Pathetic and perfect, just for him

Sebastian

We know he has little experience. Even seeing a pussy for the first time made him so red that you were worried he was going to pass out

Still at least knows about the clitrous though, he's not clueless – just inexperienced. Does it mean he can find it without some assistance? No. But he’ll nervously spread you open as he rubs along your entrance in an attempt to elicit some type of reaction

Too awkward to ask you what he's doing wrong, so unless you’re kind enough to show him… get ready for a lot of trial and error. Kind of endearing

- No idea what it is

All the Ratman

Obvious. They just know it feels good when they sink their dicks into your hole – really good. Foreplay is a foreign concept to them, their minds just set on the singular desire to rut and breed

Micheal and Robert have more of the mind to listen to you when you talk about your clit. Micheal is incredibly eager to please, burying his face between your thighs as his tongue laps sloppily at your tender bud (with heavy guidance, of course) He just loves how you clasp your thighs around his head!

Robert is the one who notices how your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers when he grazes your clit. He commits this to memory, hand sloppily rubbing against your clit as he thrusts into you. Only then the other ratman feel how you twitch around Robert’s cock do they really learn to pleasure you there

Randal

Should definitely know what the clit is – considering he canonically watches hentai. Not the best reference for sexual knowledge… but if he stopped staring at tits, he might have picked up that rubbing there would feel good for you

In his mind, the sole purpose of the clitoris is to provide a source of amusement, perhaps by flicking it with his tongue or pinching it between his fingers until you squirm and whine

You can try to guide him to touch it properly, but he has no idea how to use the knowledge to bring you any real pleasure. His touches are clumsy and insensitive, and he doesn't take anything seriously enough to not want to immediately put his cock in you. Best you’ll get is some overstimulation, baby!

[venussaidso]

𝗞𝗲𝘁𝘂 𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟎

disclaimer: spoilers for all movies or shows mentioned.

the warnings: mentions of drug abuse, sexual violence, self-harm, genocide, mental disorders/illnesses, cannibalism and self amputation.

The most interesting theme within all the Ketu nakshatras was one that was unexpected, as it is common to mainly associate Ketu with concepts of disconnection or isolation from society as a whole -- since Ketu is often linked with the 12H. But it is more about the interactions with the unseen forces within society more than anything. Because the 12H also represents the collective's consciousness and all the interconnected energies that come with that which Ketu becomes possessed by. And it is Ashwini that is the most sensitive Ketu nakshatra, as it easily becomes consumed & absorbed by these 12H energies which often leads to chaos and loneliness.

Ashwini nakshatra embodies Nothingness which is the oldest energy in the universe. It's between a space before actualized creation, and after the rise of awareness that's emerged from Nothingness (or the Cosmic Void). It is very fitting that this is the first nakshatra; but it should also be considered the last as it essentially represents the non-duality of Life & Death. This theme is further extended in Bharani and beautifully explored in that nakshatra, but in Ashwini we focus on the spirit's evolution. The energy found in this nakshatra is as undeveloped as it is chaotic, which is why evolution needs to take place -- and this usually involves extreme harsh forces to tame it. It is in Ashwini where there's confusion or lack of self-awareness of one's own identity as energies here become repressed, unconsciously accumulating. I'm going to use some films as examples to explore this point.

First, I'm going to use the most typical Ketu-coded character. Ashwini Moon Christian Bale's Patrick Bateman in "American Psycho". This film follows an investment banker who relishes in the wealthy excesses of his superficial lifestyle in which everybody else around him also revels in. His life is empty, mostly revolving around getting into exclusive restaurants, wallowing in designer suits, having a meticulous morning routine etc. There's a pressure in general for conformity and Ashwini is sensitive to these energies which they take up, driving them to compete and also go too far with this -- because it's no longer about conforming anymore. It's become an obsession, and these pressures drive Patrick Bateman into homicidal tendencies as an outlet. This film perfectly encapsulates modern-day consumerisms, and it is of course an Ashwini native who is driven into a descent of madness from this empty, superficial culture he's subjected to.

Nothing can fill up the emptiness inside of him and he knows that. This crippling, painful understanding is what continuously manifests his violent self-hatred and hatred towards others. And this is why he is forever trapped in a cycle of loneliness, as he is surrounded by the same narcissistic, self-absorbed suits who will continue to maintain this soulless, superficial culture.

The movie was adapted from the book with the same name, written by Mula Moon Bret Easton Ellis whose own experiences inspired the book "American Psycho".

Quote from an interview; OregonLive (2010);

"[Patrick Bateman] did not come out of me sitting down and wanting to write a grand sweeping indictment of yuppie culture. It initiated because my own isolation and alienation at a point in my life. I was living like Patrick Bateman. I was slipping into a consumerist kind of void that was supposed to give me confidence and make me feel good about myself but just made me feel worse and worse and worse about myself. That is where the tension of 'American Psycho' came from... It came from a much more personal place."

-- Mula Moon Bret Easton Ellis

Now, onto the movie "Fight Club", which was directed by Magha Sun David Fincher, and stars Magha Sun Edward Norton and Mula Sun Brad Pitt.

The most highlighted character from this film, played by Brad Pitt, is Tyler Durden, who plans on making a revolution to destroy the hyper-capitalistic, materialistic superficial culture that we saw destroy Patrick Bateman from the inside in "American Psycho".

(video - 🎧)

Of course, just like Ashwini Moon Patrick Bateman took his obsessive consumerism too far; Mula Sun Tyler Durden lays on the opposite spectrum -- aiming to destroy modern society by blowing up all credit card companies and ruining the world's economy. Mula is related to destruction as it is ruled by Nirriti, the goddess of destruction. The oppressive forces that weigh on this Mula character, Tyler Durden, causes him into a spiral for freedom (9H), using extremities and acts of terrorism to be rid of ego/society. Whereas Ashwini, having no solid identity and just being undeveloped in nature, is more likely to conform; but so long as Ketu is there, there will always be an emptiness in the ambitious pursuit of things. Ashwini can grant excess wealth and fame, but with no inner fulfillment or balance, you see characters like Patrick Bateman. Or Daniel Plainview from "There Will Be Blood".

A movie directed by Paul Thomas Anderson who has Ketu in Magha, and stars Ashwini Moon, Mula Ascendant Daniel Day Lewis who portrays Daniel Plainview. Plainview is more Ashwini, as he is an extremely ambitious, capitalistic and competitive oilman.

His pursuit for wealth and power leads him to personal loneliness, isolation and emptiness -- we see how Ketuvians become so drained and eaten alive by the energies they absorb in the pursuit of things. Similarly to Patrick Bateman, he not only hates others but himself and wishes for no one to succeed in life.

(click on the gif(s) if they're buffering lmao, i swear they're cheap)

His primal competitiveness and self-loathing even drives away his only family -- his only child. His adult son means to do his own oilrig business and cuts his partnership with him. But Plainview's unchecked ambition shows that even after attaining success and power, he literally goes ahead to disown his own son as he considers him competition now. And now he extends the same hatred he has for others to him. Further isolating himself; this validating his deep sense of loneliness that was always there with his self-loathing.

The film ends in an Ashwini fashion; in which Plainview goes into a psychotic meltdown and murders someone who he has had a long stewing hatred for.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

I wanted to provide a brilliant video from the YouTuber "The Vile Eye", who explored the dark nature of this character; because it perfectly illustrates Ashwini nakshatra in a twisted way -- especially in how Aries in this segment is influenced by Ketu forces. Everything about this character is every Aries stereotype you can think of from the top of your head, but Ketu exaggerates it to the point of extremity and tragedy.

Amazing video for anyone who wants to understand Ashwini at its extreme which can manifest in real life of course.

Now in the series "Peaky Blinders", which I quickly wanted to mention, stars Ashwini Moon Cillian Murphy whose character faces moral dilemmas, as his relentless pursuit of power contributes to his moral ambiguity.

His ruthless ambition to become the most powerful in the criminal underworld is something I couldn't help but relate it back to Ashwini's drive & competitiveness.

The movie "Scarface" stars Ashwini Sun Al Pacino who plays Tony Montana. And fun fact, Tony Montana is loosely based and inspired by the real-life figure, Al Capone, who was literally a goddamn Ashwini Moon. So, I say Scarface is a fucking Ashwini movie.

Both Tony Montana and Al Capone had unchecked ambitions and an unrelenting desire for power. In Ashwini, extreme power can be attained, and we saw how Tony Montana quickly rose to it (as Ashwini is the Star of Transport and it is associated with Shidhra Vyapani Shakti which translates to 'The Power to Quickly Reach Things'). Similarly, Al Capone was also driven by the desire for power and he attained it.

Like Daniel Plainview in "There Will Be Blood", Tony Montana starts to experience isolation after all of his achievements. His chaotic behaviour contributes to his alienation, and he starts to feel intensifying loneliness, which seems to be a theme with this nakshatra. And this film also ends in Ashwini fashion; with absolute chaos, the psychotic unraveling of Tony and of course death.

I wanted to also add in the movie "Nightcrawler" which stars Mula Sun Jake Gyllenhaal who plays a character willing to go to the extreme lengths for success and personal achievement, to the point of exploiting others and not giving two fucks about ethical boundaries.

He has a distorted view of success and has an unchecked, ruthless ambition which is common in Ketu nakshatras. He is also a socially isolated character, behaving inappropriately as he is disconnected from social norms. He has zero empathy. In his obsessive & relentless pursuit of success, he is devoid of humanity. Had to mention this film because these themes are not exclusive to Ashwini.

But as I did mention, Mula is more likely to be aware of societal pressures and these natives often feel deeply disturbed by them -- while Ashwini is more focused on the Self, as it's ruled by the 1H. In the film "Falling Down", Mula Moon Michael Douglas plays a character who has become disillusioned and is now aware of the pressures and oppression caused by the modern-day life. This movie is literally directed by Magha Sun Joel Schumacher.

He confronts many issues such as homelessness and crime, which are heavily rooted in the greedy, capitalistic system of modern society. But he becomes violent and chaotic himself, going into a descent to madness (from absorbing the energies felt by the collective who also feel the weight of these oppressive forces within society). This movie deals with the consequences of unchecked rage, a theme shared in all Ketu nakshatras.

The film "Taxi Driver", which stars Magha Sun Robert De Niro and is directed by Magha Ascendant Martin Scorsese, depicts a man who suffers from extreme loneliness, alienation from society, and struggles with existential crisis. The film explores social decay; such as social disparities, the disillusionment of our main character to society's ills, crime, poverty etc. He goes into a descent into vigilantism, using violence as a catharsis which is a common thing for these Ketu nakshatras (mainly Magha and Mula as it looks at societal frustrations and the emptiness in life/modern culture).

The character also suffers from a possible case of untreated mental illness, and insomnia -- and this seems to be a theme with all Ketu nakshatras in general.

Another film where the main character suffers from extreme insomnia is "The Machinist", starring Ashwini Moon Christian Bale whose character's insomnia and untreated mental illness literally contribute to his isolation and alienation.

will be coming back to this film in my part 2 post

And the film "Fight Club", in which Magha Sun Edward Norton plays an insomniac character who has dissociative identity disorder. And his split personality is interestingly played by Mula Sun Brad Pitt.

Then we have the film "Insomnia", directed by Ketu in Magha Christopher Nolan, starring Ashwini Sun Al Pacino who plays an insomniac detective who faces some mental challenges.

There is a spiritual belief about insomnia, which suggests that there may be a disturbance in one's spirit; unresolved issues that have been long suppressed can be linked to an imbalance of energy within the body. This causes restlessness and more mental problems. This could make sense as Ketu and the 12H deal with what is unconscious -- and how that tends to be our deep, rooted traumas and the way in which they affect us & those around us. And not just traumas, could just be repression of one's own internal suffering from either loneliness or external pressures. We see this with Patrick Bateman, whose only outlet is literal murder, or Tyler Durden's 'revolutionary' fight club causing more destruction around him as planned. Both characters violently act out from these unaddressed decaying energies within themselves and from within society.

The series "Sharp Objects", directed by Magha Moon Jean-Marc Vallé, mostly deals with family traumas, but also shows how those traumas and unresolved energies literally cause death and chaos around them.

Camille Preaker, who is played by Magha Sun Amy Adams, is deeply traumatized and troubled. She has a history of self-harm and has many scars on her body; her self-destructive behaviour is a coping mechanism for what happened when she was young (sexual violence by a group of boys and witnessing the slow, painful and preventative death of her sister). Then we have her younger half-sister Amma, played by Magha Moon Eliza Scanlen, who has a hidden dark side that has been shaped by the family's troubled history and generational trauma. By the end of the series, we find out that Amma is the killer of the violent murders that have shocked the townspeople of Wind Gap. It is Amma who is responsible for all of the gruesome deaths of the girls whose teeth were removed. As Camille's coping mechanism is cutting herself as self-punishment for all the guilt she harbours from the death of her sister, Amma literally commits homicidal acts. All of this connecting to just how messed up, and complex, their trauma and the community they grew up in is. And then we have their mother, played by Mula Moon Patricia Clarkson, who has Munchausen syndrome and is responsible for the death of her oldest daughter. Camille was a witness to her sister's suffering and death, and she sees her mother as a monster and now her little sister is an extension of her. This series is such a good example of how our own personal unchecked traumas affect others, especially those who aren't involved. And how much destruction can be caused, as we see with Amma killing other girls as an 'outlet'. This is why I now realize how wrong I was about Ketu, as Ketu is not necessarily about isolating from society. Regarding society, Ketu will be the complex yet intricate unaddressed/rotting energies within society, and it always relates back to individuals' personal generational traumas. It makes sense that Magha relates to ancestry roots and origins of oneself, even the origins of one's trauma.

Now onto the film "Nocturnal Animals", which is directed by Magha Sun Tom Ford, stars Magha Sun Amy Adams and Mula Sun Jake Gyllenhaal.

Amy Adams plays Susan who is a successful art gallery owner. She receives a manuscript for a novel called Nocturnal Animals sent to her by her ex-husband Edward who's played by Jake Gyllenhaal. The book is extremely violent & tragic; but it actually turns out to be a symbolic reflection of their relationship and marriage. Bringing in the Ketu themes of unresolved trauma and getting to the roots of it (Mula theme). This book serves to make Susan confront how much of her actions fucked him up. The movie focuses on the confronting of one's past, telling of how trauma will still continue to shape the lives of those involved. And the movie shows that even Susan still has unresolved issues just by her repulsed reactions to extreme parts of the novel.

The movies "Split" and "Glass", stars two Ashwini Suns, Anya Taylor Joy and James McAvoy. McAvoy's character, Kevin, has dissociative personality disorder and these different personalities exist to keep him safe. His trauma is so extreme and deeply painful that it manifested into the creation of The Beast, the most dangerous and superhuman personality. Three kidnapped girls are prey to The Beast as they end up being devoured by it but there is only one doesn't fall victim to him -- and that's Anya Taylor Joy's character Casey.

The reason why she doesn't fall victim is because she, too, has suffered extreme trauma and her resilience through it is what creates an immediate connection with Kevin. It is when The Beast sees her scars that he calls her pure, implying that those who have been damaged are the ones who are truly evolved.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

Also, "Split" is another example of how deeply repressed energies and traumas of one can ruin everything around them and victimize those close to the Ketuvians (usually uninvolved people's lives being violently taken; "Split", "Sharp Objects", "American Psycho", "Falling Down" etc.).

Ashwini Moon Zendaya in the series "Euphoria" plays a character, Rue, who has been through a significant amount of trauma, including the passing of her father. She uses self-destructive ways to cope with her deep emotional pain and grief, very similarly to Magha Sun Amy Adams's character in "Sharp Objects". Rue uses drugs to numb herself from her harsh realities. There is a moment in the series in which she has a chaotic meltdown.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

Something I now understand with Ashwini is how explosive, volatile and scary its ungrounded energy can be -- exactly why I'd commonly associate it with hysterical meltdowns which can lead to accidental or unplanned homicidal acts or other forms of harm/self-harm. This scene of Rue is vaguely taking me back to Ashwini Moon Christian Bale's spiraling and meltdowns in "American Psycho".

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

Ketu, especially with Magha, seems to cause erratic behaviours when its natives aren't purified of their long-accumulated baggage in their unconsciousness -- exactly why the 8H is also ruled by Ketu as Scorpio shares this particular theme. As long as there is deep disturbance and imbalance in the body, there is no rest for the soul -- even for future incarnations to come.

But now, I want to touch on the senseless harshness of Ketu. Remember, this energy embodies the eternal sucking void. Mula nakshatra relates to the center of the cosmic void and goes straight into the roots of it. Ashwini has already risen from it, while Mula is centering itself back into it. Mula is where we seek an awakening to the truth of what is behind reality. What is on the other side of the cosmic void? Truth is searched in Mula, but it seems that it is Ashwini that understands that chaos is the absolute truth of reality. There is no meaning to anything, which sounds nihilistic, but it is what makes life beautiful.

In the film "The Pianist", written & directed by Magha Sun Roman Polanski, starring Ashwini Sun Adrien Brody, starts out quite warm with a well-put together family and a handsome talented Ashwini man who dreams of being a pianist. But things take a drastic turn. We see a once bright-eyed boy turn into the shell of the person he once was after going through such harrowing events, and things just keep getting tragically worse and worse until there is not even a sliver of hope anymore. The majority of the film is literally just despair, senseless cruelty, and the protagonist's soul slowly becoming annihilated.

I've never watched a film more Ketuvian than this; surrounded by genocide, death and being completely isolated while being eaten by one's own lonely misery.

One moment you think one character is going to make it out alive somehow because they have the conviction and drive to survive, but the film immediately takes that idea away as they helplessly die. You think the protagonist is going to see some light, and the film even makes you slightly comfortable in some moments given the harsh realities, but you witness just how everything remains tragic. There are no answers to any prayers, as suffering is just ongoing. This tonality creates another layer of feeling trapped, and you watch as the character just lets life do whatever it wants to him as he is trapped in a world where he is helpless anyway. With Ketu, you realize that there was never any security or answers to this senseless chaos in this world to begin with.

But his survival at the end makes you question why he even went through all of that. There was no lesson to be taken from such a tragic, horrifying experience. Why did his other friends and family die but not him? In the end, he became a successful pianist as he dreamt of from the beginning. He was exceptionally talented from the start; these events took everything away from him except his passion for the piano. What he went through was senseless, as Ketu has no prime motivation. Saturn will push you through the worst so that you can reach a level where you can now attain all of your reaped rewards, Ketu doesn't care for what you get in the end -- that's Rahu's objective, as Rahu deals with ego; Ketu deals with the evolution of one's soul and that usually involves its annihilation.

The kdrama "Save Me", stars three Ketu natives; Magha Moon Seo Yea-ji, Mula Moon Woo Do-hwan and Mula Sun Ok Taec-yeon. It follows Seo Yeah-ji's character, Sang-mi, and her family after moving into a new town. They become influenced and entangled by a religious cult. Sang-mi becomes aware of just how oppressive and dangerous the cult is when she & her family literally lose all control to them. Sang-mi's attempts to escape become futile, as she remains trapped under the oppressive abuse of the cult, turning her more into a shell of the person she once was.

(The Mula male characters are the ones who find out about the Magha girl's whereabouts, and they plan to save her and her family from the clutches of the cult.)

She witnesses extremely harrowing events, and the drama makes you feel the sense of hopelessness that she's feeling -- trapped and completely helpless no matter how much she tries to save herself and family. There is a similar sense of hopelessness and lose of one's own identity found in "The Pianist", but in this drama it's more about extreme involuntary isolation from society (which I will be expanding on in part 2 of this exploration).

The film "Society of the Snow" is literally directed by Ashwini Moon J.A. Bayona, based on real life events. There's a documentary based on these events as well, "Stranded: I've Come From A Plane That Crashed On The Mountains", directed by Magha Moon Gonzalo Arijon.

Now, in the "Society of the Snow", there is a tone of hopelessness set in the film because of the gruesome reality that these characters (based on real life people) experience. And never in their lifetime did they think that everything was going to change so drastically from just living the average life of normal teenage boys. These characters, who were in a rugby team, get on a plane that would soon crash onto glacier surrounded by endless cold harsh mountains -- with just a piece of the wrecked plane remaining in which they take shelter in. The protagonists are surrounded by the dead bodies of friends who did not survive the crash, and now they must spend the first night in harsh coldness while many are severely injured. They couldn't even sleep, the first night being spent with many of them crying and wailing out loud, nearly freezing to death. One day after, a rescue helicopter searches for them, and they all scream out for help. But the helicopter misses them as they're barely noticeable under all the glacier that surrounds them. This is when the sense of hopelessness and despair kicks in and intensifies as the story progresses. Now that chances of being rescued have completely fallen to zero, they realize that they can't ignore their growing hunger anymore. They all have no choice but to eat the flesh of the dead bodies after running out of chocolates. We see how these decisions mentally challenge some of the characters. It is truly tragic as they were stranded, isolated from the world and completely in despair in every waking day, for a span of 72 days.

After being rescued, we see just how malnourished they were from the looks of their bodies. They come back home bone-skinny and weak. And the monologue in the ending scene tells us how the survivors wondered; "Why didn't we all get to come back [home]?" "What is the meaning of it all?" These are the questions asked when we observe these raw Ketu events.

Ashwini Moon J.A. Bayona also made the film "The Impossible", which is about survival and resilience -- based on real life events. Much like "Society of the Snow", it also has a sense of complete despair and there is an involuntary separation of a family (which reminds me of "The Pianist" in which Ashwini Sun Adrien Brody's character is also separated from his family in the story).

"Nothing is more powerful than the human spirit" it writes on the poster.

"Nowhere", is directed by Ashwini Moon Albert Pintó, a survival thriller about a pregnant woman who finds herself isolated from society as she's drifting in the sea trapped inside a container. Because of her newborn baby, she is forced to survive and protect her child even when there is no hope. The reason why she's even in the container is because she was fleeing a society of a dystopian future in which women & children are caged and murdered (Ketu's oppressive forces and her attempt to run away from them leads her to total isolation which is another manifestation of Ketu).

And we also have the film "127 Hours", directed by Ashwini Moon Danny Boyle, starring Ashwini Sun James Franco who plays Aron Ralston whose right arm becomes trapped against the canyon wall when he was on a solo canyoneering trip. When he is unable to release himself, we realize the severity of his situation. He is completely isolated and alone. His own supplies running out and he's losing his mind. The struggle for survival and one's own helplessness is a theme of Ashwini nakshatra as this eventually drives one into taking extreme measures for freedom -- as the audience sees him resorting to cutting his own arm off.

These themes seem to speak of the power and resilience of the human spirit, as emphasized in "The Impossible" and "Society of the Snow". Our ability to survive even just our own personal traumas must be a testament to our spirit being an extension of the Higher Power which is behind the happenings of all of these senseless yet significant experiences and events we go through.

It is in Ashwini that one's experience through harsh forces contributes to the spirit's evolution after total annihilation, which leads us on the path towards moksha. This is particularly why I state that Ashwini must be the last nakshatra, in my opinion of course.

Ketu is very pure by nature, and it wants to destroy impurities. The repression of one's accumulated dirt can manifest in destructive tendencies, this being a misdirected flow of Ketu energies wanting to express the very raw forces we're wired to run away from. By facing one's true inner self and embracing your entirety is how you embrace Ketu in general. But one must go deep and inward. All three Ketu nakshatras deal with getting to the roots for this reason.

Ashwini is ruled by the Ashwini Kumaras, gods of medicine and healing. Also known as divine physicians. In order to heal, one must get to the root of all disturbances in order to create the perfect medicine to heal. As Ashwini is ruled by the 1H, this does involve getting into the roots of oneself for self-liberation. Magha, on the other hand, is about tracing your own existence back to the consciousness of others -- usually family members and ancestors. Magha relates to generational trauma and shining light on that in order to be freer. Mula is symbolized by the roots of a tree, and 'mula' translates to 'roots'. It signifies ancestry roots as well, but mostly the truth. Mula is where disillusionment takes place as one gets directly into the roots of everything; going right into the galactic center -- which can also signify going right into the roots of our demons and letting all of that rotting energy burn from your body. And after this purification process, one's consciousness raises by default.

Ashwini has strong, undeveloped energies which can be tamed and grounded to be properly channeled -- in order for this to be achieved, one must let go of poisonous impurities so that they're no longer controlled/possessed by unseen forces. It is in Ashwini that we expand on the interconnection of the collective consciousness being tight, as this was secretly discovered in Uttara Bhadrapada and remembered in Revati. Ashwini nakshatra is extremely sensitive to outward energies, as are the rest of the Ketu nakshatras. Every individual's consciousness is affecting the whole world somehow. This being a Ketu theme in general describes the whole energetic field of the world and how we each play a part in it and affect each other's lives. As all Ketu nakshatras deal with getting into the roots of things, we must get dirty by digging into our own roots which are connected to the reasons for our layers of repressed emotions such as rage, numbness, resentment, hatred and grief which are commonly harboured in Ketu natives. These unconscious emotions, which form our Shadow Self, contribute to how we interact with the world and other people -- and there's always that capacity to harm or further traumatize others because of our own unchecked, hidden troubles. Mula also perfectly shows how all of the complex, interconnected traumas of everyone else are intertwining and creating more chaos and confusion in society; and the disillusionment to how the oppressive systems of society are just breeding more of these pains & troubles -- which in turn, in Ketu fashion, demonstrates just how trapped everyone is.

Continued in Part 2