#sleepless society insomnia

[namtanlovesfilm]

Hello!! Found your blog while scouring the internet for Anything relating to Analog Squad, which I’ve binged today. Got any other Thai drama recs by any chance? I’ve already added Burnout Syndrome and Ready Set Love onto my watch list

analog squad mentionned, yessssss!!! hi hi :) do I have other thai drama recs???? hell yeah friend let's go, you loving analog squad AND adding burnout syndrome & ready set love to your watch list tells me you have great taste so let's go 💅

I told sunset about you: literally a masterpiece from beginning to end. if you liked the character exploration of analog squad, you'll love this one! very VERY dramatic but very VERY good. my fave!

not me: literally my fave show of all times, lives rent-free in my head, changed my mind, I made it my master's thesis topic, I'm beyond obsessed with it. by the same director & with the same pairing as burnout syndrome so I recommend watching that one first to see what you're getting into, this show is so special & different than any others. you'll love it!

project s: skate our souls: the 3rd show in my holy trinity. changed my life & my outlook on my own mental health, has great actors adjacent to the ones in analog squad & ready set love (google nadao bangkok & you'll get it), and it's just the most beautiful underrated gem of all time :)

project s: side by side: same overarching show as the previous one, this one is super bittersweet & will get you in your feels in an analog squad fashion. a banger imo.

the gifted: another banger, this one is more adjacent to ready set love in terms of scope & grandeur of the moving elements needed to make this show work. it's very different & very good!

sleepless society: insomnia: idk exactly why I feel like you'd like this show, but I feel liked you'd like this show. or perhaps I'm just recommending you all of my personal faves lol. anyways super underrated show that it straight up a banger & super different. I really recommend it.

theory of love: if you're signed up for burnout syndrome & you enjoyed I told sunset about you, you'll LOVE theory of love. same pairing as not me & burnout syndrome, toxic af, dramatic like itsay, will make you question your sanity at times... legit so good. this show has haters but it'll always have me as a fan. I think you'll love it!

the revenge: legit my roman empire. no one watched this show but it's some of the best shit I've ever seen! it has some of the soul of analog squad & the social criticism of ready set love, except this show is super fucked up lol. very very good, could not recommend it more!

3 will be free: queer, messy & has some social commentary, I feel like this show would please you if you liked analog squad & added ready set love & burnout syndrome to your watch list. it feels like a show completely different from these three, but also the perfect amalgamation of all three. a cultural reset imo!

midnight motel: this one is short, dark & fucking greatly executed! same main actor as burnout syndrome, not me & theory of love (and my fave actor in general) and a great social commentary. could not recommend it more!

happy birthday: I feel like happy birthday & analog squad occupy a similar space in my heart. it's bittersweet, heartwarming & a tear-jerker all at once, and it deals with an important topic. this one is so good, and has stayed with me since I watched it years ago.

great men academy: this one is maybe tonally most similar to ready set love, but I also want you to watch it for jaylerr, who was also in analog squad, and whom I love dearly. he's excellent in this role.

in family we trust: same thing as gma, this also has jaylerr & I am indeed trying to make you a jaylerr stan with this rec list lol. this is so good, mysterious, has good social commentary, amazing acting, & will keep you on your toes. on top of making you a jaylerr stan, of course.

xxx

[aphotographyofyourlight]

Black White Nights

My sleepless nights are not rare nor black but golden with thoughts that my sleep will not be able to dream even if I am extinguished at daybreak where then I remain lying down to set my nocturnal light like my mind white like my nights and black with my humor .

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Hold them down

Summary: After years of missing your husband, your suitor decides to take matters into his hands.

Pairings: Dark! Suitor! Marcus Acacius x Queen! Reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Noncon, unprotected sex (p in v) forced infidelity?, plotting of rape, historical inaccuracies, manipulation, rough rough sex, loss of virginity (and related blood), breeding kink, size kink, corruption kink, bondage, planned murder, dark dark and dark,

Inspired by the Epic Musical and the original Odyssey!

Series Masterlist

After the Twin Emperors had fallen, the Gladiator Hanno rose to power, being recognized by Lucilla as his long lost son, Lucius Verus. Succeeding his rise to power, his first order was to have Macrinus, a wealthy businessman and slave owner, executed for his treason against the Democracy of Rome and clear General Acacius' name.

Having decided not to love another woman after the death of his wife, he opted for a political marriage to benefit the city. Cherry picked by senators as the finest of eligible bachelors, you were a perfect match for the new Emperor.

Arriving to Rome from your certainly smaller yet blooming city, Lucius had clarified that he didn't intend in taking you as a lover, rather than as a companion and ally for his ruling; and when the day of giving the kingdom a heir came, the affair would be short and, well he didn't exactly said that word but, meaningless.

You weren't discontented in his boundaries, you weren't there to find a lover but to enlarge the possibilities of your kingdom. As years went by, Lucius had become tender with you, unlike the city that suddenly demanded a Prince. However, as Rome transitioned into a prosperous city, the people seemed to be appeased by being fed and war-less.

As a way to erase Geta and Caracalla's history, Lucius decided to free the colonies in Africa himself, so two years after your marriage he had embarked.

"Take care of Rome for me." He smiled in your bittersweet goodbye, holding your hands in his.

"And who will take care of me then?" You joked, feeling the rough finger pads of his work torn hands; his eyes fell behind your frame, with a confident smile.

"I actually have that covered;" You followed his eye line to see the broad, dark figure behind you. General Marcus Acacius himself, for some a Valiant Hero of Rome, for others, another victim of the deceased emperors' terror. "Acacius will be your personal Guard, in case anyone attempts anything against the Empress of Rome."

Despite the eerie way the General's big brown eyes seemed to narrow over you, you learnt to feel safe with his presence, despite being behind you at all time. It kept you calm as people begun questioning the Emperor's absence, a you begun to question it too.

A year passed, and rumors spread about wars breaking out in the colonies due to their new found freedom. Exploited colonies at war trying to survive from spoils of war, predictable really, but Lucius had wrote to you, soothing you that he was aiding the reconstruction of those societies. That was the last time he had wrote.

Another year went by, and the flourishing nature of Rome kept people from questioning the Emperor's absence, but not you. Your nights became sleepless, as you pondered around your room, perhaps hoping for sudden news, confirmation of something, anything. It was a cold night when your insomnia made you think about the man standing outside your bedroom door. General Acacius.

Silently, in case you regretted it, you tiptoed towards the big ornate door from your shared chambers, and cracked it open. There he stood, clad in his armor as the dim lights of the hallway torches illuminated his face; his right cheekbone held a scar, visible in the warm lighting as he slowly came to look at you. In his two years as your shadow, you had never taken your time to look at him.

"My Queen," He whispered sternly, eyebrows furrowing. "Why are you still awake at this hours?"

You licked your lips guiltily, and his gaze fell onto the thin, almost see through sleepwear you had on under the blanket draped over your shoulders. He could trace the outline of your navel...

"May you come in?" You asked, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your shoulder as you realized how inappropriate this was, but you didn't care; perhaps his war experience could help you calm down. "I cannot conceal sleep, and someone to talk to could be nice."

He obeyed silently, sneaking through the crack on the door. The Emperor's chambers held an extravagant amount of luxuries, left behind by the old Emperor Geta; Lucius had wanted to get rid of them, but as producing an heir, he never got the time to do it.

Acacius' gaze fell over the bed, only your side disrupted as if Lucius was coming back anytime soon. You had sat down in a velvet chair beside the fireplace, hands clutched over a golden cup of raspberry wine. He walked over to you in slow steps, as if expecting you to tell him the issue and leave when commanded. If you hadn't gazed expectantly at the chair beside you, he probably wouldn't have sat down.

"I am unease by Lucius' absence," You confessed, despite the obviousness. "I heard rumors he was fine, back in Numidia, building houses, but he hasn't written to me in over a year."

Acacius hummed, showing he was listening, however your wild eyes indicated that you wanted an answer. "Your concern is reasonable, my Empress, the city shares your discomfort."

You furrowed your brows at his words, surprised the matter was relevant enough to discuss. "I had only heard some questions, but I believe the people knew his circumstances."

"It isn't that they dislike you;" He clarified, sending relief down your stomach. "In fact, they adore you."

You felt your lips twist into a small smile in his words.

"They adore you so much they trust you to rule if, of course let's pray not, Lucius doesn't return."

Your stomach sank once again at the possibility, but Acacius gave you a warm smirk, as if it was a compliment.

"The issue is..." He hesitated, and you saw the reflection of the flames in the brown of his eyes as he looked at you, seriously. "the succession."

You hummed, intrigued to what he was meaning. Your eyes asked him to explain more, and he let out a breathe when the blanket slipped off your shoulders, allowing him to see the outline of sometihing far more tempting than your navel.

"If Lucius hasn't been home for almost two years by now, and you haven't been with child yet, the senate fears the throne may spiral once again to a tyrant after your passing."

You shook your head in confusion, a new worry appearing and attaching itself to your chest. "Why haven't I been informed of this fear?"

Acacius chuckled lightly, as if you were too naive to understand; it made you feel small, stupid.

"They do not wish to offend you, my majesty." He explained, and you scowled. "Now, you are in your prime age for...carrying an heir...but if Lucius is to be gone for longer, let's say four more years, you'd be pass that age, and thus..."

"Anyone could take the throne." You completed, understatement dooming in your features. "But I couldn't...Lucius could be back tomorrow for all I know."

"There still is time," He reassured, taking the cup of wine from the table. "but the lack of knowledge of his stance is, as you say, uneasy for most of the Senate, and of course the people of Rome."

As you sipped more wine, you leaned over the armrest of your chair, as if wishing to keep the conversation as private as possible, but all he could see was the way your breast, unconsciously, became visible from your neckline. His breathe hitched.

"As a knowledgeable and prestigious General," You asked, eyes wide and frantic. "what should I do?"

He pretended to think for a while then sighed. "In confidence, I believe you should wait for him, perhaps a year or two, and if he isn't here by then and you haven't received any notice, you should remarry, just for the sake of your wellness and the city's."

You almost gasped from his words, the alcohol inhibiting your senses. "My sake?" You manage to question him, words starting to slur. Of course they did, you had been drinking for hours trying to catch sleep.

"The people may believe that you are intertwined in the fall of the city," he whispered, eyes wild as if he was personally offended by what the people may do. "They can believe you have arranged it all to set someone in the throne, they might riot, and we know from our old Emperors that rioting never goes well; imagine what they could do to a women such as yourself."

Acacius' words stained your mind for the next year, as Lucius failed to prove his existence once again. You had proposed the idea to the Senate, who seemed surprised by your initiative; Acacius had later told you that they didn't expect a woman as devoted as you to determine that if Lucius didn't appear or made himself known in the next year, you would seek another man to remarry to provide the heir, but that it was what all of them believed to be correct. You had grown fond of him in the last year, inviting him for wine in those restless nights and him informing you from what the Senate was too scared to tell you. As Lucius had grown to be a close friend, so did Acacius.

Which is why, after two years had passed and you had to teary-eyed greet the suitors that had came wishing to become the Emperor of Rome, you were taken a back when General Acacius presented himself before any of them, asking for your hand. His thick frame, clad in his white honorary attire along with ten of his best trained soldiers trailing behind him, had profusely scared all the other suitors that stumbled and staggered on their words after him.

Which is what made you jump on him like a rabid dog once they had gone to their rooms and Acacius was the only one i the throne room with you. Standing up from your golden throne, identical to the empty one beside you, your feet stomped near him. He was awfully tranquil, almost smirking at you.

"May I know why you have proposed as a suitor?" You bellowed at him, praying this was a sick, twisted joke, like you had joked that your "Guard dog" of a General would scare them off.

"Because, my Empress, the senate and I believe that a true Emperor needs to be one who knows how to handle the rise of Rome into democracy." He explained, and you felt a pang of betrayal, jealousy even, as the Senate had allegedly preferred to discuss such matters with him rather than the actual Empress. "One that has aided in it's rise and is skilled at controlling the city; one that could guide you through ruling."

"You said they trusted me." You protested, looking up at him; despite being furious, you could see by the way he craned his neck to look down at you that he didn't feel threatened, at all.

"They do, I assure you that; but the uneducated and starved people of Rome won't take a women as an Emperor, much less if she has some foreigner as a husband." The way he sneered at you told you he had this planned. "But you and I know that you are smart enough to know I am your best opportunity; I am a war Hero and a symbol of democracy, my Empress, the people would riot if you chose any other man."

You glared, never expecting this from him. He enjoyed the way you stormed out of his view, silky dress swishing as he laughed so hard, he almost dropped the carefully stacked letters that told him Lucius would be home in six months.

Almost as if you knew, you had delayed your choice for four months by then, posing impossible challenge after challenge, simply to get on Acacius nerves. But he did not even falter; even if it was bringing dozens of water buckets across the city, taming wild horses or swimming with crocodiles to retreat minuscules gold pieces from the bottom of the murky river, Acacius managed to have win after win. For most people, it was becoming clearly ridiculous how adamant you were against Acacius.

If he had proposed the idea to you things would have been different, but he had planted seeds of doubts in the Senate about your capabilities, evidenced by your revengeful behavior in presenting tasks. The more you fought with Acacius, the more the Senate seemed to become wary of you and the more the people of Rome called you frivolous. You acknowledged the last part, as you were now dedicating more time in plotting unachievable tasks than governing the city.

As grief for mourning Lucius meddled with the new issues of the city, Acacius looked at you victoriously; naked war torn torso and a shining emerald in his hand as he retrieved from the river, almost waving goodbye to the last bunch of suitors you have scared away.

Almost 5 months had passed since you had greeted the suitors, and the only one still standing was Acacius. As you walked into the Senate's room, you caught wind of something that drove you wild.

"If the wedding is going to be next week, then we would need to at least levy taxes until the end of the season to compensate for the rise-"

"What wedding?" You bellowed, and the Senator who was speaking quickly silenced himself as the whole room turned their heads towards you. Marcus stood, dressed in his best, before rising his goblet to you; it took you a while to see from where he was rising from, Lucius' throne.

"There aren't anymore suitors," He informed, and his name rolled out of his tongue mockingly. "Next year you'll turn 28, and we cannot risk it anymore."

"And has this council decided this over me, their Empress?" Your gaze fell on the senators around you, men who rolled their eyes as if you were taking up their time; as if calling your self the Empress was a mockery. "Has the council forget Lucius had chose me to rule by his side and not just to produce an heir?"

"This Council had chosen you," Acacius corrected, and you felt the tips of your ears burn up in embarrassment. "and if Lucius had given the city an heir this wouldn't be an issue, but he didn't and thus, I am the most suitable option."

You dug your nails into your palms, seething at him.

"And this Council believes it is correct to plan a wedding without consulting the bride?" You hissed at them. “What do the people think?”

"There had been riots in the south due to the succession," A senator informed you. "You would have known if you had attended the last meeting."

You felt fury pile up in your throat, as if itching to scream, because no one that even told you about the last meeting. You felt caged by these men, and Acacius grinning peacefully at you, that conniving snake of a man had turned the Council against you.

You sighed, tears kissing the brim of your eyes in frustration before clapping your hands together. “If the people of Rome wish me to marry, I will, however please give me a week to mourn, properly, the loss of our Emperor. I will marry Marcus Acacius in two weeks time, without complaint.”

Acacius�� smiled fell, and you believed your surrender had annoyed him.

“Haven’t you got two years already to do so?” He bit at you, and the Senate looked around bewildered by Acacius sudden lack of manners.

“Oh I know it is a selfish desire, but it would facilitate the process for me.” You pouted to the people of the Senate, who became more understanding after you agreed to marry him. “If that is all, I am to leave.”

You walked through the door calmly, running the second the Council could no longer see you. He had trapped you, backed you up against a wall and showed your scared self to the whole Senate of Rome. As you unlocked the door, precaution you took everyday since Acacius had proposed, you felt a shadow lurk around the corner. You almost jump when you saw him, striding towards you. If you were to open the door, he could have pushed inside, and if you stayed there, god knows what he could do. So you stayed frozen.

He called your name, rather than my Empress; it was a way of stabilizing dominance. You glared at him, hand on the door knob.

“I hope that you can come to see our marriage as more than a political ploy.” He grinned, as if he was one of those brand new suitors that attempted to gain your trust while flirting. “I certainly can’t wait to give the city an heir.”

The way he looked at you urged you to run and hide.

“I have nothing to discuss with you, Acacius.” You responded, pushing the door slightly open to slip inside. “You have betrayed my trust.”

As you were about close the gap from were to entered, the General placed his big hands on the door, speaking to you from the ajar door.

“What is it, my Empress?” He pressed, the door becoming thousand times heavier under his strength. “Are you scared about the consummation, because you and Lucius had never really…?”

With a burst of strength you managed to push the door closed, resting your sweaty eyebrow to the cool ornate door as tears begun pouring from your eyes. Since Acacius had proposed you stopped inviting him at night, and locked the door. Some nights, as wind rustles trees and all you heard was his feet creaking the floorboards outside your room, you could also hear a faint rustle, and attempt to open your locked door, as if you could have forgotten to lock it some day.

That was another thing that was slowly driving you mad.

The next week went by organizing wedding affairs, and you begun to question what your plan was after begging to get married in two weeks. It had been stupid, you guessed, something that had strikes over your head as you looked over at a statue of Athena. You prayed for her strength.

Acacius loomed over your figure as he had done years before your friendship had bloomed, although the ghost of a creeping grin appeared in his face more than usually. You attempted really, to see the good side, but the fact that he had manipulated you into proposing the idea and then used it to his advantage deeply sickened you.

It was about two days from the wedding day when Acacius had disappeared almost all day, and you felt at peace by his absence. As the tailor arranged your wedding dress, clearly just a reconstruction of the old one, you heard him gallop through the entrance of the Palace, holding something on his hand.

“The Emperor is dead.” He told the Senate, holding up a letter he had received from the colonies. “Let the news not startle us from guiding Rome towards glory.”

You furrowed your brows, Lucilla next to you breaking into a deep sob.

“What does the letter say?” You asked him, and he looked at you as if you were testing him.

“Would be cruel to discuss the details of the dead infront of his mother, my future wife.”

You almost felt bile rising up to your throat from the words he said.

That night you became even more restless, so much it physically hurt. The night had been one of the coldest the was and a thundering storm had grown from the coast of Rome up until the palace. It felt like a message from the Gods, with all the thundering you couldn’t hear the door knob nor the hushed whispers behind it.

Your eyes were closed but just a thin layer of drowsiness was on top of you, not enough for you to peacefully sleep without the hammering at your temple. That is when you felt the bed dip beside you, and his scent brought you jumping up.

“Lucius?” You questioned through the darkness of the night, his perfume thick in the air.

“I am so sorry to inform you that Lucius is gone.”

Acacius. Your blood froze as your eyes fluttered open. In the darkness, the door hadn’t been opened because you could have seen the torch lights from the crack. There had been another way he had gotten in.

“However, he will return tomorrow night, to find his wife has remarried.”

You looked over his figure, lit by the moonlight entering from the balcony.

Broad shoulders and the willowy of his Roman nose.

“But he might as well return tomorrow morning, and that is why I must secure my claim.”

He spoke with such tranquility it send shivers down your spine. The fireplace had gone off, leaving burning embers. You looked at the door once again, still locked, by the time you could have gotten there he would have caught you. He was stronger, faster and more agile.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked him, voice quivering. He begun untying his armor, letting it clank slowly into the ground, accompanying the sound of lightning outside.

“Because I had been tempted with you from the day you arrived, little girl.” The nickname felt warm, but it spat out of his tongue like poison. “I was the one who had saved the city, but Prince Lucius got the crown, the power, and he got you.”

“Wh-What is it about me that you want?” You choked out, breathing startling as his robes pooled at his feet.

“If Lucius is set to return and you have already consummated your marriage to me, my heir would be on the throne.” He explained, and you got a deja vu of that night when you had invited him in; the same tone. “You’ll probably still be married to him, due to the coincidence, but you will be carrying my child. It will be our secret to history; an Emperor, son of a General.”

You slowly pulled the blankets from your body, thinking that if you were to arrive to the balcony, perhaps you could scream for help.

“Wasn’t it me that you wanted?” You persisted, entertaining him to distract him as you feet softly touched the cool marble floor, he had hunched over to undo his sandals.

“Well, of course, but the Emperor is gone a lot, he is too busy to notice-“

The sound of your feet padding against the floor made him turn, seeing you race until the balcony. He jumped over the bed, eyes rabid as a predator chasing a prey. The cold air of the balcony struck you, along with droplets of rain that all over you. Gripping onto the bannister, you screamed, but no sound came out, his hand clapped tightly over your mouth as his other clung to your torso, securing you to him.

“Stupid girl.” He bellowed, dragging you inside. You could feet the heat of his naked body, chest pressed against you, as you felt his stiffening cock against your lower back. It all felt too real, suddenly. He tossed you to the bed, climbing on top quickly and caging you. Just his immense back was enough to restrict your movements. You cried and punched his chest, attempting to push him to no avail.

As one hand splashed across your chest to keep you still, the other moved down, slipping between your silk gown. It dragged punishing between your tights, forcing them apart with his thick waist. It found the patch of pubic hair, hiding something sweet for him in its center. You could almost hear him smirk.

“Are you wet?” He asked, teasingly as his index finger ran across your slit. He then took his hand back out, presenting two fingers to you. “Suck, and make them wet or I’ll fuck you as dry as you are right now. Don’t you dare bite.”

You opened your mouth slightly, and he introduced two thick digits into your mouth; your tongue swirled around them, tasting the strong taste of perfume. He had taken the time to put on Lucius’ scent, perhaps to taunt you.

Once pleased, he pulled them out of your mouth and directed them to where they were before, bunching your dress at your hips. His fingers now grazed more softly, wet, and he rubbed them into your slit, finding a beaded nerve at the top.

You had touched yourself before; sometimes Lucius would come back drunk after dealing with claims and work all day; you excused him such actions, he had a lot to deal with. And he wouldn’t touch you, but he would hug you and hold you close, and that minimum amount of contact would drive you wild. You knew what was coming when he began circling around your flesh, the wetness that spread and threatened to burst at the tip of your lips.

“Feel how wet are you getting for me? has your husband ever get you like this?” He pressed, slipping one thick digit inside; your walls swallowed it, hugging it tightly; he almost moaned at the heat, the tightness of your core. “Are the rumors true? that you have never consummated your marriage?”

His voice was stern once again, as if he was one of the court ladies asking you about it; you thought to tell him the typical lie, that you had consummated but the stress of running the rising Rome had taken a toll on you, and that you will wait. However, you thought for a second that if you were honest perhaps he would stop.

“Yes,” you spat, eyes shut tightly as you felt your body betraying you, hips almost buckling. “we never…never had the chance.”

He chuckled, deep in his chest. “Then I’ll have another thing he doesn’t.”

His jealousy was almost childlike; he wished you because you weren’t his.

His fingers worked inside you, preparing you. Your mind, fogged with pleasure, attempted to see any way you could fight back; perhaps he’d be weaker once he entered you. Perchance you’d loose that part of you but escape his seed.

Seeing you still, the hand holding you down came up to rip the top of your night gown as a thunder cracked the sky. Your peaks hardened under the unforgiving cold night, and your body started to yearn for the heat of his body. His gaze roamed your tits, recalling the first night you had invited him in, perfect in form and size for him despite you not being keen on them.

“Such a fucking good pair,” He murmured, hand skimming over them, groping them barbarically as his other hand sped up, adding another finger, eliciting a gasp from you. “once you are my wife you aren’t going to parade around court with those skimpy dresses you love, or invite any guards inside at such hours of the night.”

Through your gasp you had realized that his words were becoming sloppier, he was forgetting his plans. You had to wait. He pinched your nipple as he begun curling his fingers, sending a jolt of energy and pressure to your core, places you had never reached.

You felt sudden emptiness when he pulled out his fingers, and you met out a shuddered sight of relief. Tears ran into your scalp, tears you hadn’t notice you were crying. His hand dipped between his naked body as the other finished ripping your nightgown, and as he let out a grunt you knew he was grabbing his cock. It bumped against your leg, and its own weight made you cry harder; you knew he was big.

“Still,” he commanded, seeing you shake. “Or I’ll shove it all in.”

You did your best, clenching your eyes as you attempted to wake up from this nightmare. Praying that it was once, that is.

He pressed the tip in, almost as big as your fist. The big head slowly broke through your walls, and he was shaking now too, lips parted and eyes clenched, that was all you could see as lightning striked the sky once again. “Feels so good,” he muttered under his breath, gripping your shoulders tightly. “I’m sorry-I can’t-“

He pushed in, all eight inches of himself and you let out a sharp cry he shushed pressing his lips towards him. Full and tasting of wine, a breathe than had fanned over your cheek but you had chosen to ignore. The scruff of his beard scratched against your face, but the pain of his cock was worse.

Thick and long, it had broken through the thin barrier of skin; your hymen or constricting walls, you didn’t know. He planted his weight in his knees and forearms, caging you as your legs dangled at the side of his imposing hips.

“I am not sorry for what I am doing.” He clarified, voice airy from delight. “But I am sorry for this, my queen, I cannot control it.”

Before you could confuse yourself about what he meant, he begun thrusting into you, curling his hips as some animal in heat. Your moans were in pain and his were in pleasure as he melted onto you; he was fucking you so hard you felt as if he was trying to imprint the shape of his cock into you; it felt like hours, and it probably was too, his lips momentarily trying to catch your unresponsive ones, silencing moans and cries.

You knew then that there was no escape, no way you could push this man off you. You felt something wet growing, but now you were sure it wasn’t arousal.

“So good of a pussy,” He grunted into your ear, now gripping your thigh as if he was attempting to spread you even more open. “gonna fuck a son into you, make you finally mine.”

His words only created more tears, as if that was their only aim.

“Such a sweet Empress, s-so eager to please everyone, such a fucking. Good. Girl.”

He synced his thrusts with the last words, each more punishing than the previous.

“So loyal too,” he cooed, mockingly, teeth kneeding at your neck. “loyal to her absent husband.”

He was leaving marks, you knew that. His arm suddenly wrapped around you waist, muscle flexing as he hoists into the air and you fell down deeper into his cock. Your arms braced itself in his shoulder for support, sheets almost sticking to your back due to the sweat that had pooled. One hand in your lower back and and the other groping your ass tightly as he fucked into the air, making you feel every ridge and vein in his member.

“Gonna cum,” he confessed, unashamed. “right into this cunt.”

“No no please-” you mustered all your strength to say, but he was far too gone, plopping you once again on the bed but then bringing your thighs together and slinging your legs over his shoulder, clutching them together as his cock came in and out almost fully. His final thrusts felt as if he was trying to reach your guts, cock tensing and twitching inside you, before shooting hot ropes of cum right into you as his full body weight fell onto you, stretching you to the point your knees almost touched your face. He caught himself in his hands a few moments later, pulling out.

You hadn’t noticed, but the sun begun to peak from the balcony, signaling morning. The tears had dried from your face. As your legs fell back onto the bed, you saw the blood. Around your thighs, into the bed and around his cock and pubic hair. Staining the scene as a gruesome crime scene.

You felt your cunt start to throb, painfully. Your hand stopped by your pelvis, also in pain alike your legs.

“Took it so good,” he praised, and now you could see him better. Body scarred, some fresh scars from your scratching, wild brown curly hair, his take tell scar on his left cheekbone and blown out dark eyes. He was terrifying as he observed your core, blood and cum and arousal just peeking through the swollen folds. “but I forgot something.”

No, you thought, too tired to protest as his fingers found your sensitive pussy once more. You shook your head as your hand attempted to grip his, but he looked at you as a warning.

“Need to make you cum.” He demanded, fingers slipping in way easily than before. “Quickly.”

It sounded like a promise, but it was his aim. Two fingers lodged inside you, a thumb in your clit and his other hand gripping your fighting wrists. Curling his fingers and rubbing you, was all it take. You felt the pleasure build up, and shame spread through your face as the faucet turned on and you sobbed once again.

If he was to rape you, that was one thing, but if he was to make you cum on his fingers, make you feel pleasure in all of this, that was twisted. That was a blow in your honor.

He wouldn’t stop, a bit more forceful that you would have desired, but he was a man on a mission. You suddenly felt as if you needed to pee, shame flickering over your body as you tried to shut your legs, but his hand was stern and no amount of pressure would make him retreat.

He managed to bring you to your climax, pleased smirk plastered on his face as your pussy begun shooting arousal. You cried harder, choking through moans from the pleasure he was forcing upon you, seeing how you soaked his softening cock and hand. He took his hand out, wet and crimson stained, and brought it to his lips. He hummed at the taste of you.

“Gotta taste this pussy some day, perhaps tomorrow in our wedding night.”

You were too gone to actually listen to his words as he used the scraps of your night gown to clean the blood on his body, and slipped into his armor once again.

He then walked over to you, picking once again the scraps and tearing them into long pieces. He grabbed your wrists and you allowed him, too tired to fight him.

He used the straps to tie you to the bedhead; then pulling another piece to go around your mouth. It was futile to attempt anything.

“A Numidian ship is embarking today, carrying your precious husband, let’s see if I can get to him first.”

And he left you, bound and naked.

[starlight-incarnate]

House of Feänor as Aesthetics:

Fëanor  —  loud voice, commanding presence, analytical, natural leader, piercing eyes, foggy hillsides, black boots, tipping their head back to breathe the air, mirrored lakes and everything below the surface, tearing leaves from trees, blunt sarcasm, long dark hair, deep sleeper, rotting tree stumps, black leather jacket, songs that makes you want to create a storm, rebellious, ambition, unstoppable passion, fast trains, polaroids, empty castles.

Maedhros — walking silently, stronger due to all the stuff meant to kill them, ignoring their mental health issues, fiery red hair, crumbling marble, oversized hoodies, raw voice, lingering touches, faint music in the distance, calming down from a panic attack, long heavy cloaks, cold hands, disillusioned with the world, insomnia, unhealthy habits, sighs made visible by cold night air, strong hugs, never sleeps, loud music, freckles, dark under-eyes.

Maglor — hypnotising smiles, a broken mind, melancholy, driving through mountains and the woods, iced coffee, the faint feeling of raindrops on your cheeks, ripped jeans, tight hugs, whispered compliments, deep conversations, late night texts, nimble hands, thin blades, white lilies, vertigo, unkept journals, lightning and thunder, rhythms so raw the heartbreak is showing, shattered glass, walking alone on a cold night, silver necklaces, regret.

Celegorm — bright eyes, climbing rock formations, cold-hearted, hard breathing after running, wood cabins, gladiator arenas, wicked smiles, twisted branches, wild hair, growing more and more dangerous, night drives, adrenaline rushes, bruises, bloody cloaks, running from society, breathless laughing, that animalistic unpredictability, silver and leather bracelets, strong coffee after a sleepless night, city lights from a high rise, addiction, barking dogs, hurricanes.

Caranthir — ironic smirks, bitten nails painted black, lightning in summer, empty threats, sunglasses hiding dead eyes, thick chain jewellery, temperamental, goes to car races just to watch the crashes, deep glares, tongue/lip piercings, midnight walks, lightbulbs burning out, diamonds, crushed ice, a glint of cat eyes in the dark, gold coins in storm drains, cold hands, storm clouds rolling in, theatres, suppressed emotions, wrought iron gates, motorcycles. 

Curufin — cherries and Diet Coke, white marble, a studio apartment on the 67th floor, tattoos, neon lights, sweetened coffee, smudged makeup, too-loud music, cursive notes written in red ink, veiny forearms, sharp canines, fresh snowfall, high rise buildings, white light, sheer robes with nothing underneath, fog, stained glass windows, colourful hair, slow heartbeats, long-forgotten love, cold mountaintops, eternal silence.

Amrod — burnished copper, feverish eyes, hues of orange and gold, stars and spades, brewing tea, freckles, hardwood floors, poisonous flowers, listens to Hozier, messy hair, fake circle glasses, bullet point notes on a restaurant napkin, comfortable silence, broken wings on insects, old hungers, the whispering of trees, kicking stones on deserted paths, forgotten places, origami stars, old overgrown stone castles, morning mist, horse riding.

Amras  —  misplaced keys, wandering aimlessly, selectively mute, deep lakes hiding secrets, pine trees, restless nights, misunderstood, reliving the same day over and over again, graphic tees, dead moths, visual mind, muffled screams into a pillow, listens to asmr, doc martens, profanity, burned cigarettes, zoning out often, heart fluttering nervously, confusing satellites for stars, comic filled bookshelves, radios, old jeeps, glowing keyboards.

Celebrimbor — ravens, white-hot metal, the darkest shade of black, glittering skin, low waist pants, stars falling, the heat lingering in the evening, petals falling off dead flowers, trusting the wrong people, blue veins, cobblestone paths, linoleum tiles, bruises/scars easily, the heat lingering in the evening, cities awake late, card games, overanalysing everything, shiny fabrics, the slamming of a shot glass, the sting of betrayal.

[justforbooks]

Haruki Murakami

The acclaimed Japanese author’s deceptively simple writing combines fantasy and reality in stories of everything from missing cats to dystopian histories via fantasy thrillers and meditations on love.

Japan’s bestselling living novelist Haruki Murakami started writing aged 30 and became a literary sensation in 1987 when his fifth novel Norwegian Wood was published. His mixture of realistic and dreamlike narratives has earned him a dedicated fanbase, and his name is often floated as a contender for the Nobel prize in literature. If you’re new to him, or want to re-read his greatest hits, here are some places to start.

The entry point

Murakami’s novels can be crudely separated into two categories: the fantastic and the realist – although many fall somewhere in between. Published in 1987, Norwegian Wood lacks the otherworldly strangeness that has come to characterise much of Murakami’s most popular work. Instead the novel is a deceptively simple reminiscence of young love. Landing on a German runway, narrator Toru Watanabe hears the titular Beatles song and is transported back to his college days and turbulent love affairs with two different women. Nostalgic and sweet, Norwegian Wood is Murakami’s most accessible novel, and the book that transformed the author into a literary superstar in Japan.

If you only read one

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle is peak Murakami, and features many of the things the author is known for (Mysterious women! Vanished cats! Phone sex! Spaghetti!). Unemployed thirtysomething Toru Okada is looking for his missing cat and missing wife when he sleepwalks into a wild goose-chase of increasingly bizarre events. “The best way to think about reality,” he declares, is “to get as far away from it as possible.” Part detective story, part nightmarish Alice in Wonderland, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle becomes a story about Japanese history, bizarre mysteries and red herrings. Abstract, infuriating and very funny, it is Murakami at his most beguiling.

If you’re in a rush

If you want to make a critically acclaimed film, adapt a Murakami short story. The South Korean thriller Burning took Murakami’s story Barn Burning as its foundations, while, more recently, Ryūsuke Hamaguchi won an Academy Award for his adaptation of Drive My Car. Some of Murakami’s finest storytelling can be found in his microcosmic worlds. Sleep, published in the New Yorker in 1992 and included in the short story collection The Elephant Vanishes, was the first time Murakami wrote from the perspective of a woman and the result is stunning. The story offers a character study of a devoted wife who is suffering from a sleeplessness that is not quite insomnia. Murakami frequently – and justifiably – receives criticism for how he writes female characters, but Sleep is a brilliant story that uses the liminality of the night to evoke the unease of being a woman in a patriarchal society.

The memoir

Murakami’s biography could be the backstory for one of his protagonists. The author was running a jazz club, turned 30, and quit to become a novelist. The rest is bestseller history. Murakami’s slim memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, offers an insight into his diligent creative practice. “Most of what I know about writing I’ve learned through running every day,” he explains. Only seriously taking to running in his 30s, Murakami reflects on the comparisons between marathon-running and writing , and demystifies the author’s practice as regimented routine, endurance training and occasionally injury inducing.

It’s worth persevering with

Across three volumes and over a thousand pages, 1Q84 is Murakami’s most ambitious novel to date, encompassing cults, assassins, parallel realities, two moons and creatures that emerge from the mouth of a dead goat. Following twin story threads of fated lovers, Murakami’s epic is set in a version of 1984 that slips between the familiar and unfamiliar. While 1Q84 is certainly sprawling, it’s structured like a maze with the occasional trick mirror and trap door. It was bemoaned by some critics as a disappointment when first published in 2011 and its length may be intimidating to the casual Murakami reader, but descend into 1Q84’s world and you’ll be treated to a page-turning thriller, a tender love story, a pulpy mystery and a meditation on the metaphysical mysteries of a world not dissimilar to our own.

The one that deserves more attention

After its publication in English in 2001, Sputnik Sweetheart left the orbit of Murakami’s more popular works. It’s a shame because the novel offers a refreshing variation of the author’s most predictable trope: women vanishing. Narrated through the eyes of a typical Murakami narrator (male, pining, passive), at the heart of Sputnik Sweetheart is a lesbian romance between Sumire, a wannabe Jack Kerouac, and Miu, an older, refined wine importer. Lusting after Miu, Sumire begins to shed her bohemian exterior, transforming herself to become Miu’s chic personal assistant. The unequal romance soon develops into self-obliteration as Sumire seems fated to be forever Miu’s sputnik – orbiting her from the isolation of space – before she disappears. Sputnik Sweetheart’s yearning romanticism is as tender as it is uncomfortable.

The masterpiece

Departing from his typical thirtysomething, whisky-drinking, jazz-listening protagonists, Kafka on the Shore is narrated by 15-year-old runaway Kafka Tamura. Fleeing his violent, dead father after receiving an Oedipal prophecy, Kafka finds refuge working in a small coastal town’s library. Alternating with Kafka’s tale is Satoru Nakata’s, an older man who lost his childhood memories at the end of the second world war, but instead gained the ability to converse with cats. Nakata is forced on the run after he crosses paths with a sinister cat-catcher who goes by the name Johnnie Walker. Both characters embark on vision quests, with one foot in everyday Japan and the other in a magical undercurrent that delivers the characters to each other. Murakami has said that the urgency behind his stories is “missing and searching and finding”. Kafka on the Shore eludes genre pigeonholing, and instead exemplifies its author’s ability to map a dreamscape labyrinth, one with its own strange poetic justice.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[xreaderbooks]

The Shadows of Our Love

Chapter 1 | In the Shadows of Return

Sebastian Sallow x Slytherin! reader

Summary: Y/n L/n is back at Hogwarts for her fifth year, left with an insurmountable amount of guilt, trauma, and ancient magic that she has lost control of over the summer; she must learn how to overcome her internal battle while also fighting a new one this year. With talk of a high society group called Death Eaters; Y/n must once again find the strength to fight for the wizarding world and confront her love for Sebastian Sallow.

Warnings: language, mentions of death, and trauma

Word Count: 2.2k

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

a/n: If anyone would like to be tagged send me a message or leave a comment, I'd also love to read your thoughts so any messages or comments are welcome

Series Masterlist - Navigation - Chapter 2

Taking the train to Hogwarts was a surreal experience for you considering how you got there in your fifth year. You were able to take in the view that all your friends raved about- the mountains, the lakes, the trees. You sat with Garreth Weasley and his group of Gryffindor friends which earned you odd stares from Imelda Smelding and her friends.

You spent your entire summer with Garreth and his family, his aunt, Professor Weasley was kind enough to take you in for the summer and your friendship with Garreth had grown in the time you spent with him. You weren’t about to ditch him because of the silly house rivalries between Slytherin and Gryffindor when he asked if you wanted to sit with him on the train. He was goofy and immature yet he could be sweet and caring in the most uncommon of ways that you didn’t mind his company.

In fact, his spirit helped lift up yours on the days when the exhaustion of sleepless nights due to nightmares and insomnia would get to you. You were the Hero of Hogwarts and it came at a cost. Post-traumatic stress had gotten to you more often than not and you had no one to share it with. Your mentor who had been there from the beginning, Professor Fig, is dead.

His death haunted you still, nobody would understand the price of your ancient magic, you felt it burn within you now. Your emotions being a trigger for a blast of your power, throughout the summer you learned to control it, Garreth had even concocted a potion (that to your surprise worked successfully) to dull your power.

“You would have loved the boat ride to Hogwarts, Y/n/n,” Garreth brought you out of your thoughts.

“So I keep hearing,” You gave him a small smile.

“Only because it’s literally the most magical experience you’ll have at Hogwarts.”

You lifted a brow at him, “One would think the most magical experience I'd have at Hogwarts would be the actual magic.”

His laugh echoed through his friends who didn’t seem to mind your presence in their compartment. Leander Prewitt, who flirted shamelessly with you despite the fact that you bested him at whatever task he challenges you to.

Nellie Ogspire who is actually a mutual friend, dueled against you in crossed wands and informed you of the Daedalian Keys that fly around school opening cabinets that contained tokens that opened your house chest.

“You know what else is a magical experience-” Leander spoke.

Nellie stopped him before he could continue to say something atrocious, “Absolutely not. Nobody wants to know, we have plenty of better magical experiences, Prewitt.”

Leander crossed his arm and slumped into his seat, “Whatever.”

You smiled to yourself as you gazed out the window, recognizing all the places you’ve traveled and longing for all the ones you haven’t yet. You’ve been all across this side of the wizarding world, visiting hamlets, helping the helpless, saving defenseless animals, and raiding camps of loyalists and Ashwinders. Some on your own and others with your friends who you couldn’t wait to see.

Natsai- Nattys mom insisted they travel to Hogwarts together, their own way, she told you in the last letter she wrote to you right before summer ended.

You couldn’t find Poppy at the platform, You and Imelda were more respectful competitive housemates/acquaintances than friends who would sit in the same compartment, and you weren’t sure if Ominis would want to sit with you.

As far as you knew, you left off as friends, he sent you cordial letters over the summer, twice maybe three times a month just filling each other in so that you’re not complete strangers. It was a safer bet to stick with Garreth.

One person you secretly hoped you would see at the train station was Sebastian.

Sebastian Sallow.

The boy who was never up to any good, who taught you forbidden spells, who would go to the ends of the earth to save the people he loves. The boy who made your heart race faster than the fluttering wings of a fairy. Your year at Hogwarts was adventurous with all that you were up to on your own, but doing it with him- you felt like you could be with him for the rest of your life and never get bored.

He sent you one singular letter at the beginning of the summer, and that was only because you had sent him one first.

Dear Y/n,

Hope all is well, I was glad to receive word from you after your final battle with Ranrok. You are a hero as I always knew you were. I’m pleased to have contributed in whatever small part I might have played to your success.

To answer your question, I am as decent as I can be considering all that has passed. I have not received word from Anne since the incident, I can only hope she will reach out to me in the coming months. For now, due to your mercy, I shall pick up the remaining pieces here in Feldcroft.

Gratefully yours,

Sebastian Sallow

—

The Great Hall was bustling with students both new and returning. It was almost impossible to hear a person talking directly to you with how loud everyone's conversations were, it was a bit overstimulating, and luckily your mind was too preoccupied with searching for the familiar faces of your friends.

You withstood stares of awe and whispers as you passed, people didn’t shy away from pointing at you. It didn’t help your nerves but you had gotten accustomed to it from being the new girl going into Hogwarts fifth year.

“Natty!” You waved to your friend who was nodding along with what her mother was telling her. She made haste, when she was able to escape her mother's grasp, to where you stood by the fireplace next to the Slytherin table.

She gave you a wide smile, “Y/n, it is good to see you, my friend.”

“It is amazing to see you!” You let out a breath of relief, you felt as if you could finally relax. You held onto both of her hands as you said “Your mother is never separating us again.”

She laughed, “You speak too soon. I foresee many letters exchanged in our future.”

“Shh- don’t say that, it may come true,” You scold her playfully.

The sound of a utensil clinging against a golden chalice told you both that it was time for everyone to settle down.

“We’ll see each other in class,” You say giving her shoulder one last squeeze as you give her a hug.

You rush to the nearest empty spot, a fourth-year girl and another empty spot to your right. You settle down with your anxiety still on high, you noticed the familiar blonde hair and full grey eyes sitting across from you.

“Ominis, Hello.”

“Y/n?” His tone was confused.

“Oh, so it’s great to see you!” You mentally slapped yourself for the poor choice of words.

He speaks dryly, “I can feel your energy from here L/n, it would be best if you calm your enthusiasm, though I must admit it is nice to hear your voice.”

“My voice?” A deep resounding tune filled your ears, in the three months without him you can hear how much he’s grown. “How flattering Gaunt, I can’t say it is unexpected-”

He plants himself in the seat to your right and your heart stutters.

Your head slowly turns in his direction, and your eyes slightly widen. He glances at you once and does a double-take.

“Y/n?”

“Hello Sebastian,” You swallow your feelings at seeing him now. His features have matured, no longer baby-faced. His cheeks have defined, his jaw sharper, hazel eyes lighter, hair grown in an attractive way you didn’t know how to describe. He definitely grew taller, shoulders broadened.

You didn’t know how to react to his looks now, you had always found him attractive, from the moment you met him; his way with words, his charisma, had you in the palm of his hand. You couldn’t look at him now with that one glance, you were sure to melt.

There was no time for any other words to be exchanged as Professor Black began his introduction ceremony, sorting the first years, and beginning the feast.

The food appeared and you filled your plate, ignoring the very apparent presence next to you. He appeared to be doing the same. Ominis spoke to him and he would respond, he would converse with you, but you and Sebastian never asked each other a single question in the full-hour talk with Ominis.

“You never described how it was to live with Weasley, Y/n,” Ominis tilted his head at you.

Sebastian's fork stabbed his chicken a little too hard, it scraped the plate, making a short screech.

You side-eyed his plate and refocused on the question the girl who sat diagonal to you on Ominis’ left asked. Imelda had a quirk on her brow, and a smirk on her lips, she questioned you loud enough for the other fellow Slytherins to hear.

“Fraternizing with the enemy,” She tsked. “Didn’t take Slytherins own hero as a traitor.”

“Didn’t know the rivalry extended to after school,” You looked unbothered. “Summer with the Weasleys was fun, you should try it sometime Imelda. You know, having fun? It could loosen the broomstick up your ass.”

You took a bite of your food, and the brunette beside you coughed up a lung, even Ominis hid his chuckle behind a fist as the girl you had insulted was red-faced and sitting next to him. Imelda's friend let out their own giggles or show of amusement while Imelda glared at them.

The rest of the feast had calmed down after you had shut her down, you had survived. Sebastian wasted no time getting out of his seat, saying his ‘I’ll see you later’ to Ominis and exiting the Great Hall as it was official the feast was over.

You decided to stay behind and chat with Ominis instead of following his lead and leaving once you were finished with your food.

“Have you spoken with him?” Ominis asked you, keeping pace as he walked with you to the Slytherin common room.

“I sent him one letter at the beginning of the summer, he responded and that was that.”

“Hm, odd.”

“How odd?”

You climbed the steps in the grand pillar where all the portraits were placed.

“Just odd,” Ominis said simply. “He was very fond of you last year, It wasn’t presumed that he would discard your friendship with how much he valued you last year.”

Discard me? You thought.

“I didn’t think he discarded our friendship Ominis, I believe he just needed some space.”

“Forgive me, Y/n, I didn’t mean it like that-”

You cut him off, “No, no. I know how it seems and eventually he and I will have to discuss all that happened last year, tonight just isn’t the night.”

You and Ominis along with your other fellow Slytherins, shuffled into the common room, settling into the dorms. You opened the door to find three other girls in the room already, all of whom you were familiar with in some way.

Violet McDowell, you had her in Potions and Herbology last year, Grace Pinch-Smedley who you had helped retrieve her family’s astrolabe from the black lake, and Imelda, who huffed and continued her unpacking. It was clear she was still upset, you smiled at the other two girls.

Violet gave you a nod, she was always a quiet one and Grace greeted you with a bright smile of her own.

—

2 hours into lights out and you were still tossing and turning, your eyes would not shut no matter what you did, and you had half a mind to sneak into Professor Sharps' closet and steal a sleeping draught. You sighed and shoved the covers away, sliding on your slippers and going down the steps to the common room.

You wrapped the string to tie your robe together in case there were people still up.

Surprisingly it was empty, not a single soul in sight. The fire crackling was the only sound to be heard. Memories of the past flashed through your mind.

A year ago today was the first day at Hogwarts, already full of adventure, watching a person you just met get killed by a dragon. The thestrals appeared after being invisible the whole time and you already knew. Going into Gringotts, fighting off statues, learning you have traces of ancient magic in your blood, and surviving the attack from Ranrok by an inch.

Yet, the thought of going into the common room the morning after and facing your fellow students who had been studying at Hogwarts since they were 11, was more frightening. You had already come into the school being the first person who had been accepted into Hogwarts as a fifth year, having to catch up with people who had the knowledge you were just learning, then coming into the first-year sorting ceremony late because of the dragon incident that everyone somehow knew about.

This school year was sure to be interesting, you thought to yourself.

The first person you saw was Sebastian, pacing in front of the fireplace with a book in hand. He introduced himself kindly, his dimpled smile had your heart before you knew it.

And it was gone just like that.

~~~

Chapter 2

taglist:

[nicklloydnow]

“In a world where everyone seemed to be constantly engaged in some activity, Cioran believed that doing nothing was the only worthwhile pursuit. By rejecting action, practical ambitions, and busyness, he believed that one could create space for meaningful experiences. Cioran asserted, "Anything good comes from indolence, from our incapacity of taking action, executing our projects and plans." His lifestyle reflected his philosophy, as he often claimed to be the laziest man in Paris, joking that only a prostitute without clients did less than he did.

Cioran's idleness was not a mere joke; it was his serious commitment and lifelong endeavor. He embarked on this path not out of laziness but due to his insatiable thirst for knowledge and understanding. Oscar Wilde once said, "[T]o do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world, the most difficult and the most intellectual." Cioran shared this sentiment, asserting that to truly comprehend the world, one must cease to act upon it and instead contemplate it. Contemplation and action are diametrically opposed, and doing nothing allows for a perspective of cosmic detachment, fostering depth of vision and a genuinely philosophical outlook.

While Cioran didn't acquire his profound insights from books or prestigious institutions, he gained them from aimlessly wandering the streets of Paris and enduring sleepless nights plagued by insomnia. His philosophical education came not from professors but from conversations with beggars, drunkards, and sex workers. Following in the footsteps of other prominent idlers such as Herman Melville's Bartleby and Ivan Goncharov's Oblomov, Cioran explored the vast expanse of nothingness that precedes and follows our existence. Even though he was jobless for most of his life, his primary occupation was confronting the void.

Enlightened by the revelation of universal insignificance, Cioran concluded that embracing a loser's life was the best possible social existence. In a meaningless world, he believed that "learning to be the loser" was the only thing that truly mattered. Becoming one with loserdom became Cioran's grand project, pursued with the same passion and single-mindedness as others strive for success in business, academia, or politics. He recognized that loserdom provided a unique vantage point to understand society's inner workings and how it can subtly transform our social nature into self-enslavement. Above all, embracing loserdom revealed life's most well-guarded secret: the world, and our existence within it, is ultimately a failed project.

Failure permeates our lives, both in significant and trivial matters, yet our greatest failure lies in our inability to comprehend its true significance. Evolution has wired us to prioritize immediate success, as it enhances our chances of survival. Brooding over failure, much like contemplating our finitude and mortality, doesn't offer any immediate evolutionary advantage. Failure represents the intrusion of nothingness into existence, and while it may provide spiritual enlightenment, it lacks practical value. Consequently, when failure occurs (which is frequent), our instinct is to move forward without dwelling on it or deeply analyzing its implications. This avoidance is one of failure's triumphs over us: on a fundamental level, we are designed to fail, even in our ultimate failure of physical annihilation. Yet, we remain blissfully ignorant of failure's profound message because our thinking is ill-equipped to grapple with it, much like our inability to confront death itself.

The popular notion of "failing better," often quoted by self-help gurus and life-hackers, suggests that failure is a stepping stone to eventual success. They emphasize the positive side of failure, like a lovers' quarrel that leads to a sweeter reconciliation. However, they conveniently omit what comes after the failure: the possibility of failing worse. Samuel Beckett, a close friend of Cioran, understood this better than most. In his novella Worstward Ho, Beckett goes beyond the idea of failing better and delves into the realm of failing worse—descending into the depths of capitulation, seeking an exit, ultimately embracing expiration. Beckett wrote to Cioran, "Amidst your ruins I feel at home."

This sugarcoating of failure is part of a broader societal process. Anything unpleasant, disturbing, or depressing is quickly sanitized and swept under the rug. This isn't solely for the sake of mental well-being but driven by economic and social factors. To be productive members of society, capable of accumulating wealth and spending it, taking loans and paying them back with interest, we must be perpetually hooked on a "positive outlook." Capitalism thrives on active participants, not loners, depressives, or deep thinkers. No reputable bank would lend money to someone who might suddenly reject societal norms and embrace a life akin to Henry David Thoreau's.

Even navel-gazing and philosophical nihilism can be seen as dangerous elements. Left unchecked, they may undermine the industrious fabric of society. Hence, these anti-social tendencies are closely monitored and, if necessary, eradicated. A vast army of therapists, well-being coaches, yoga instructors, self-help experts, entertainers, educators, and entrepreneurs work diligently to ensure that we never stumble upon the dark side of existence, let alone confront the void as Cioran did. This process extends even to art and literature, as great works that explore the abyss of the human soul now come with "trigger warnings." Engaging with serious literature is deemed as risky as smoking. Undoubtedly, this excessive sugarcoating has transformed modern life into an artificial and mockingly superficial existence, but it seems that most people are content with this mindlessness—it has become an essential dimension of contemporary life.”

[yurious-george]

goddddd the way every conversation between undine and kokoro is the exact same “they have trauma and anxiety but they’re gonna get a good grade in therapy” routine. The therapy talk is just boring but also it just feels repetitive without really adding anything new to their characters or the plot

and because of this, the story just grinds to a halt whenever they start talking which is. not a good thing to say about the MAIN CHARACTERS

If your story is at its best when it’s not about the main characters, then you fucked up somewhere real bad.

Even therapy talk can be tolerable when the characters are talking about it in relationship to the main plot or core themes. For example, the idol industry, capitalism, and child labor/soldiers: these can all be made more mundane, and can be interesting things to talk about! But their personal problems have no relation to the work’s core themes. Kokoro, babygirl, I could not give less of a shit about your dad.

I’m reminded of a book called doll bones, which I remembered loving for the creepy ghost story. I reread it recently, and was disappointed to realize major chunks of the novel were characters being afraid to grow up and arguing about it, when the creepy ghost story was truly the better story.

Mary’s comic is about healing, but there can be no true healing in a system that condones your death. Her characters will never heal from their anxiety, and neither will she, because it is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.

I had no idea there were so many sleepless domain haters on tumblr. My comrades in arms, we should start a union. Or at least a new tumblr tag so we don’t clog up the notifs of people who actually enjoy sleepless. Any suggestions?

EDIT: The tag is now "insomnia queendom"!

EDIT 2: another main theme in this comic is death and depression, and SD's adamant refusal to discuss the relationship both the mains have with death is the story's central weakness.

[cottonraincoat]

"startled and unnerved" - part 2 - 1782 (1)

part 1

---

Mozart’s arrival was light as the wind; unbearably so, and ringing with his high, blithe laughter. It whistled, waltzed through all that it came upon, and eventually crumbled against palace walls, uprooting nothing. 

Unless somebody forgot to close the windows. 

Or, in fact, the gates, through which Mozart came prancing, assured of his place here as (if more more than) any noble by birth. 

If it had been unnerving to hear of his winsome escapades along the upper echelons of Viennese society— one that won him an opera commission not two months after the dissolution of his employment with Colloredo— then even more so was reports about the alarming speed at which he was actually completing the commission. 

“You mean it is already in rehearsals?” Rosenberg said to Stephanie, with deep scepticism. 

“Yes,” the harried librettist sighed, as if distressed, “and I’ve no doubt he’d be climbing my windows again to beg for corrections and additions, I’ve never worked with a more insistent, stubborn, flighty, bizarre…” 

“Again?” Rosenberg suddenly gawped, “what do you mean again?” 

“How is—” Salieri interrupted, his curiosity getting the better of him, “the rehearsal for the opera coming along? Is he as much as people say he is?” 

Stephanie threw him an unreadable look. 

“You’d better come see for yourself, then.” 

~~~

A few days after this interlude, Salieri took ill. 

He must have stood for too long in the wind. 

Or more to the point, consecutive sleepless nights incurred a debt that must be repaid, regardless of how shameful the cause for his insomnia. He was in such a state of disquiet that even the Emperor took notice, and remarked curtly on his not being himself. 

“Forgive me, your Majesty…” Salieri quickly bowed his head, “I do not feel very well.”

Joseph II waved him off, uncharacteristically nonchalant about whether Salieri was present at his evening chamber concert. Salieri paused momentarily, jarred by his swift dismissal, but neither was he too willing to question the Emperor. Thus he simply gathered his music, and turned to go. The other court musicians paid him no mind, rushing to cajole the monarch, and Salieri was readily forgotten. 

In his mind, announcing his exit, there was a despicable, grating laughter; the mockery of heavens above, sounded in the basest of instruments. So distracted was he that Salieri did not notice the laughter was far from in his mind. Nor did he see the figure running down the hallway, and bodily collided with it at the door— he stumbled, inadvertently gripping the other’s shoulder to steady them both— then realized who the intruder was. 

“Ah, Maestro Salieri!” cried an inappropriately exuberant voice. He laid a hand over Salieri’s, which jolted away as if burned. 

“Mozart.” 

Said man took a moment to consider him, then giggled to himself once more, seemingly over nothing. And Salieri could swear his headache intensified tenfold. 

“Come in, Mozart!” Joseph II’s voice rang behind his back. There was no pointed statement about Mozart’s tardiness, or his plain disrespect of the Emperor for entering without being shown in, then stalling at the door without addressing Joseph II himself. “You are just in time to replace Signor Salieri for the evening, for our poor Kapellmeister is unwell.” 

“Is that so?” Mozart turned to him. His expressive, guileless face took on a shade of concern, quizzical and extravagant as the wig on his head. 

It may be an illusion of illness, that Mozart’s look appeared to Salieri sharp as a predator’s. Either way, he had no intention of continuing this encounter while he was so unsteady. 

“If you’ll excuse me…” he began, pointedly in Italian, while the others spoke in German. 

“Mozart, did you bring the music?” The Emperor called. 

“Yes, your Majesty!” Mozart bounded forward, finally sensing Joseph II’s growing impatience, but doubled back once more. “Wait, Salieri— you’ve not returned the score to my opera! And I made no copy! Will you—” 

Pretending to not have understood his rapid German, Salieri pushed past him. 

“I must bid you goodnight, Signor,” he said, exaggerating the Legnago accent he’s not spoken with since he was a boy. 

Mozart appeared a little confused, but eventually went on ahead towards the Emperor’s prized fortepiano. Salieri continued making his retreat. He didn’t need to look to imagine the sour expressions of musicians in the chamber. A cabal of jealous fools who ordinarily won’t allow the Emperor to hear a bar of Mozart or Handel, how caught off guard would they be, if they were as uninformed as Salieri of Mozart’s invitation? 

But not ten paces from the door, Salieri heard the beginning of a quartet— one of Mozart’s��� and he is thus rooted to the spot, immobile. He waited until the end of the piece; it was followed by an aria from die Entführung, no doubt brought by Mozart from the rehearsals for the Monarch’s inspection. At its conclusion, Salieri let out a shaky held breath. He adjusted the music collected in his arms, his hands shook as if from great exertion. Before he could hear the beginning of the next piece, he fled. 

Not knowing it was to be an aria of his own, and it was Mozart— who had every occasion and reason to fill the hour with pieces of his own, who would not be given a chance like this at the Emperor’s chamber concert again— that chose and conducted the piece.

---

Mozart received the libretto for Die Entführung on July 29 of '81, and immediately took to working on the opera with great zeal. His letters to his father from this period frequently spoke of harassing Stephanie to make changes. "Everyone abuses Stephanie," he writes in a letter on September 26. There is no record (read: I have not found any) of Salieri attending the rehearsals of die Entführung. That part of the snippet draws entirely on the musical MOR. It was a habit of Emperor Joseph II to give daily private concerts during/immediately after his dinner. Joseph II himself would play in these concerts, with his chamber musicians, which some sources in fact claim to be a gatekeeping, clique-y lot. Salieri had participated in these evening performances since he was 16, shortly after he first arrived in Vienna with Gassmann. However, Mozart was probably never invited to one, at least not at this point (he would surely have written to his father about it).

[lynex85]

NOCHES DE INSOMNIO

one, two

Un, dos

Every night I fall into the same ritual

Todas las noches caigo en el mismo ritual

I suffer from insomnia whenever you are not here

Sufro de insomnio siempre que no estás acá

I have a depression that doesn't let me even think

Tengo un bajón que no me deja ni pensar

Tell me about something, let's activate the city

Hablame de algo, activemos la ciudad

The life we ​​lead is not normal at all

La vida que llevamos no es nada normal

We are strangers in the high dirt

Somos ajenos en la alta suciedad

We settle for very little, the truth is

Nos conformamos con muy poco, la verdad

I turned up the volume, I can't stand you anymore

Subí el volumen, que ya no te aguanto más

I'm so crazy (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Estoy tan loco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

I'm so crazy (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Estoy tan loco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

And little by little (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Y poco a poco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

We fall deep (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Caemos hondo (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

It's one more night in this great city (it's one more night)

Es una noche más en esta gran ciudad (es una noche más)

I'm not sleepy, let's toast together

No tengo sueño, vamos juntos a brindar

I have a bullet that I keep for you

Tengo una bala que la guardo para vos

Adrenaline shakes my heart

La adrenalina me sacude el corazón

Don't be depressed if the miracle didn't come

No te deprimas si el milagro no llegó

Luck always revolves around me

La suerte siempre gira a mi alrededor

But tonight you won't be alone

Pero esta noche sola no vas a quedar

More than one glass I know you're going to lift

Más de una copa sé que vas a levantar

I'm so crazy (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Estoy tan loco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

I'm so crazy (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Estoy tan loco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

And little by little (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Y poco a poco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

We fall deep (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Caemos hondo (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

I'm so crazy (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Estoy tan loco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Sleepless nights (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Noches de insomnio (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

I sleep very little (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Duermo muy poco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

And I fall to the bottom (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh)

Y caigo al fondo (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh)

I'm so crazy (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Estoy tan loco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Sleepless nights (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Noches de insomnio (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

I sleep very little (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

Duermo muy poco (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

And I fall to the bottom (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh)

Y caigo al fondo (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh)

*****************

The Restless Nights of the Heart

The song "Noches de Insomnio" by the Argentine rock band AIRBAG delves into the theme of restlessness and the search for connection in the midst of urban chaos. The lyrics express the protagonist's struggle with insomnia, which is exacerbated by the absence of a significant other. This condition leads to a nightly ritual where the protagonist seeks to fill the void with city life and loud music, suggesting a form of escapism or a coping mechanism to deal with loneliness and emotional turmoil.

The song also touches on themes of normalcy and alienation, as the lyrics mention living a life that is 'not normal' and feeling like outsiders in a 'high filth.' This could be interpreted as a commentary on the disconnect between the individual and society, or the sense of not fitting into conventional expectations. The mention of 'high filth' might refer to the darker, grittier side of city life, which the characters seem to be a part of or at least exposed to.

The chorus, with its repetition of 'Estoy tan loco' (I'm so crazy), followed by 'Y poco a poco caemos hondo' (And little by little we fall deep), could symbolize the gradual descent into madness or despair. However, there's also a sense of camaraderie and shared experience, as the protagonist invites someone to join in drinking and facing the night together. The mention of 'having a bullet saved for you' and the adrenaline rush could imply a readiness to face challenges or confrontations, adding a layer of intensity and urgency to the song's narrative.

NOV.27,2013

[adictaenserie]

Sleepless Society

¿Vale la pena ver Sleepless Society: The Series? Sleepless Society: The Series es una antología tailandesa conformada por 4 historias 100% originales de thriller / misterio (e inclusive terror) que tienen como hilo conductor los trastornos del sueño o psicológicos, pero no las pondría en el tope de la lista ya que para mantener el formato de 13 episodios en algunos casos se "estira" la historia y la producción, si bien es profesional, tiene un aire a telenovela.

#1 Insomnia

Una modelo no puede dormir porque tiene pesadillas sobre el día en que su madre supuestamente asesinó a su padre y la amante de éste. Una psicóloga le sugiere volver a la casa donde creció y pese a que su tía no está de acuerdo, viaja a su isla natal y junto con unos amigos de la infancia descubre qué pasó realmente.

La falta de sueño y las pesadillas crean una sensación de irrealidad, ¿es un sueño o está pasando realmente? que da lugar a momentos de suspenso, pero que resultan repetitivas a medida que transcurren los episodios.

Además hay historias de abuso sexual, de las cuales se destaca la de los niños del orfanato, que tiene una escena fuerte, que obviamente no es explícita, pero sí lo suficientemente gráfica.

Por último hay una trama sobre trata de personas, que sumada a la de los abusos, encaja dentro de los temas del noir nórdico, pero lamentablemente a pesar del potencial del guion, por la edad de los personajes a primera vista parece un drama juvenil.

#2 Nyctophobia

La directora de un hospital encuentra a un niño herido que afirma ser la reencarnación de su hijo asmático que falleció hace meses.

La madre contacta a la líder de una secta para que le confirme si el niño dice la verdad y ésta le propone realizar un ritual junto con el padre. La trama de la posible estafa es coherente, pero lo más interesante es el ritual en sí a nivel visual, ya que se distancia de los interiores de una casa lujosa, donde se desarrolla la mayoría de la acción y que es lo que más la hace parecer una telenovela.

El niño muestra síntomas de ser un psicópata y esto genera tensión cuando juega con la hija de un amigo de la madre. La oscuridad del niño desencadena un final trágico, pero innecesariamente sobre explicado para completar los 45 minutos del episodio final.

#3 Two Pillows and a Lost Soul

Una mujer que da conferencias de autoayuda y que está casada con un político novato va a una fiesta organizada por una amiga suya, donde hay 2 strippers / prostitutos y a la mañana siguiente se despierta junto al cadáver de uno de ellos. Acusan al otro stripper de asesinato y su hermano menor comienza a trabajar como asistente de la mujer para averiguar qué sucedió realmente.

La protagonista tiene un sueño recurrente en el cual su marido la maltrata y ella lo asesina. Además es noctámbula.

Al contrario de la mayoría de series sobre crímenes, desde el inicio es bastante obvio quién es la culpable, pero no sabemos por qué lo hizo o incluso si era consciente de lo que estaba haciendo.

Me pareció interesante que el político sea bisexual (está casado, tiene una amante mujer y luego inicia una relación con un hombre) porque es una orientación con poca representatividad en series o películas. Los vínculos afectivos entre los personajes no convierten a Two Pillows and a Lost Soul en la típica comedia romántica, sino que más bien funcionan como motivos para asesinar o cometer otras locuras.

#4 Bedtime Wishes

Una mujer va a pasar sus vacaciones como invitada especial del dueño de un hotel, que está próximo a inaugurarse y en el cual trabaja una amiga transexual como chef.

Bedtime Wishes es la peor historia de la antología. La trama de que el dueño del hotel aparentemente robó terrenos está aceptable. La primera parte de la historia, sobre los hermanos gemelos que hace años compartieron una novia, que fue asesinada y que ahora lo están haciendo otra vez, es perturbadora y entretenida, pero la segunda parte, cuando se revela la identidad del tercer hermano, es floja. Es buena idea para una película, pero no tiene suficiente contenido para el formato serie.

[namtanlovesfilm]

Heyyy girl! Not sure if you’ve answered this before but what are your fave non gmmtv bls/Thai dramas?🪷💗

hi anon! I don't think I actually have, all in the same post! let's go <3

I TOLD SUNSET ABOUT YOU

I've talked about this show about a thousand times already, so I'll keep it short: this is the only show I consider truly perfect, from its writing, cinematography, acting, chemistry, storyline, soundtrack, etc. it's not for everyone bc it's VERY angsty but it's deffo my cup of tea & I'm gonna be honest teh's coming out storyline was extremely important to me as it came right before I also finally accepted my bisexuality. overall just my favorite show, so important & beautiful with deeply flawed characters <3

PROJECT S: SKATE OUR SOULS

this show is the only other one with itsay I've rated a 10/10 in my life, even though it's not perfect, because it literally changed my life. the last sentence of the show literally helped me get over the worst depressive episode of my life, which is a pretty goddamn beautiful result for a show about depression. even though it's not entirely perfect, it's still an extremely well written show, has a gorgeous cinematography full of neons, incredible performances & a story that was so important to tell. I couldn't recommend it more!

PROJECT S: SIDE BY SIDE

in also a near flawless show, we have this show. it's a very touching story that will make you cry, tries to understand all of its characters, with stunning acting performances from everyone, and it's just the kind of shows I don't see anyone disliking tbh. very well executed & definitely an all time favorite of mine :)

THE REVENGE

probably the most underrated show on this list, this is actually the show I'm the most upset about being underrated lol, bc it's literally SO GOOD. if it was a korean show it'd go viral type of good. this is a very fucked up story so not for the faint of heart but it's executed extremely well, and honestly I don't have much negative to say about this show. flawless performances, an extremely impactful show, and forever one of my favorite thai dramas ever made!

SLEEPLESS SOCIETY: INSOMNIA

another highly underrated thai drama that no one has watched. this is female-led, touches on politics & corruption, has a very different setting from usual & a great plot through and through. the ending is also super iconic & stays on my mind to this day. I really encourage anyone to watch it!

MY RIDE

if you like love sick or my school president, I think my ride will be your cup of tea. it's a pretty simple story but with such lovable characters & a beautiful healthy ship that it immediately became one of my favorite comfort shows. it's the ultimate proof that even a more simple story can be beautiful if given enough soul, quirkiness & love :)

IN FAMILY WE TRUST

in family we trust is a lakorn, but it doesn't feel like a lakorn. apart from the obviously beyond iconic cast at every level, the writing & cinematography are leagues above any other lakorns. for a murder story that should be pretty straightforward, they managed to weave in the interpersonal relationships of the characters perfectly, and this is the kind of show that you can put down once you start. if you've never watched lakorns before, I'd recommend this one to start with since it's quite similar to regular series.

TO SIR, WITH LOVE

another lakorn, another slay! this one is way more lakorn-y so I don't think it's for everyone, but it's literally the only lakorn that treats its queer characters fairly lol & it's such a beautiful love story. it's very dramatic bc 1) lakorn & 2) historical drama with repressed queer characters, but everything in this drama just HITS. you care for the characters so much, and the brother relationship is also so supportive & beautiful and I'm so glad the show never compromised it for some petty drama. overall this show put me through all the emotions & I loved it so much for it lol

GREAT MEN ACADEMY

this show is the proof of the kind of imagination thai film makers have when they get a good budget. the world building of that show is so vibrant & fun, but more than that the writing is really good with endearing characters, good interpersonal relationships, and a really beautiful love story & plot. this is just such a nice show to watch, even with its kind of childish aspect, and once again the cast is great since it's the same as in in family we trust lol. watch both shows back to back & be shook at how drastically different yet so good they both are :)

THE DEBUT

another super underrated show that no one has watched but fucking slaps. not only is it female-led with amazing performances (and a great cast!), but this show really is so well written, with a mystery & a plot twist that will pull you in and make you bingewatch it. the cinematography & colors also slap, and overall it's such a good show that I wish more people would watch.

xxx

[rogertyler44]

How Can You Benefit From Yoga Classes As a Woman

Today, women have reached great heights in the realm of industry, technology, job market, and business. But, amidst this increasing participation in the work force and making amazing contributions to the society and family, women today are also increasingly facing a lot of health-related issues. These issues are increasing, and most of them are often lifestyle-based partially, if not entirely. This is where we need to talk about the role that yoga can play in countering these issues and helping you lead a balanced, healthy and productive life.

This article is dedicated to help you understand and learn about some of the most impactful reasons for you to opt for yoga classes. Basically, we shall see how opting women can benefit in multiple domains by opting for regular yoga classes in Brooklyn.

Women tend to experience a lot of hormonal variations throughout their lifetime. The monthly hormone cycles start at adolescence. Later on, hormonal fluctuations and variations can offer during the pregnancy. This brings about a significant degree of hormonal changes. Then there is issue around the time of menopause. This is also the time when a woman can experience a lot of hormonal fluctuation and variations.

A woman can experience hot flashes and insomnia as well around the time. But a lot of these issues pertaining to changes in the level of hormones can be addressed and even prevented via daily practising yoga. If you are regularly practising yoga, it can help your body better regulate your hormones. This can lessen the severity of symptoms that comes with menopause, menstruation, and other hormonal imbalances.

An example of this is the fact that there are substantial proof of yoga reducing the symptoms of PMT. It has also been effective in dealing with and reducing the symptoms of bloating, skin issues and mood swings associated with hormonal imbalances or fluxes.

A lot of women have to go through a lot of pain every month which is associated with menstrual flow. Even though the pain resides, it can be severely irksome and crippling when it hits. One effective way to reduce this pain is yoga. This is because there are certain yoga postures and exercises which enhances the circulation in the abdominal region and helps in adjusting the muscles there. Hence, it is about time that you opt for regular yoga classes in Brookyln.

Many women fear the excruciating pains that come with their menstruation every month. If you experience this, several yoga positions might help by increasing circulation to your abdominal muscles. Additionally, yoga's contemplative elements, breathing techniques and mediations can quickly help you destress and reduce tension from your muscles.

It helps you relax and improve the quality of your sleep. Hence, if you are having sleepless nights or struggling with insomnia, it is about time you start doing yoga and see the fantastic results in a very short time if you are sincerely doing it.

[penandprompt]

April 28th: Biological Clock Day

Sci-Fi: In a future world, people can manipulate their biological clock to enhance their productivity, but there's a dark secret behind this technology. Write a story about a protagonist who begins to unravel the truth, discovering the cost of sacrificing natural sleep.

Mystery: A private investigator with chronic insomnia becomes obsessed with solving a series of mysterious sleep-related crimes. As their own sleeplessness worsens, they inch closer to the truth. Will they solve the case before it's too late?

Historical Fiction: Set during the 17th century, explore the practice of segmented sleep. Follow a character who seeks to preserve traditional sleep patterns amid societal pressure to conform to the changing norms of continuous sleep.

Horror: In a remote, sleep-deprived town, residents experience sleep paralysis and share disturbingly similar dreams. Write a chilling tale about the community's efforts to break free from this haunting collective nightmare.

Romantic Comedy: Two people with opposite circadian rhythms find themselves sharing an apartment. Hilarity ensues as they try to compromise on their sleeping habits and adapt to each other's schedules while navigating an unexpected romance.

Fantasy: In a world where dreams and reality intertwine, a character discovers the power to manipulate others' dreams but risks their own sanity in the process. Explore the consequences of tampering with the boundaries between sleep and wakefulness.

Dystopian: Write a story set in a bleak future where the government controls citizens' sleep patterns. A rebel group forms to defy these oppressive measures and regain their freedom to sleep naturally.

Young Adult: A teenager experiences insomnia during a pivotal summer. As they navigate sleepless nights, they forge a deeper connection with a neighbor. Explore the themes of friendship, growth, and the significance of sleep in their journey to adulthood.

Historical Romance: Set in the 19th century, follow a romance between two individuals separated by time zones. They exchange letters and dreams, using a mutual love for stars and the night sky as a bridge between their different circadian rhythms.

Adventure: An explorer embarks on a quest to find a legendary flower said to grant those who find it the ability to forego sleep. As they journey through treacherous lands, they must decide whether the sacrifice is worth the prize.

Psychological Thriller: A character starts receiving cryptic messages in their sleep. These messages lead them on a surreal journey through their own subconscious, uncovering hidden truths and facing their deepest fears.

Contemporary: Write about a person who works night shifts in a quiet, small-town diner. Through the relationships they build with customers and the observations they make during the odd hours, explore the unique charm of life during the night.

Alternate History: Imagine a world where humanity evolved with segmented sleep cycles. Detail the impact on society, daily routines, and how technology and work patterns differ from our reality.

Science Fiction: In the future, humans develop a pill that allows them to go without sleep. Write a story about a character who decides to take the pill, experiencing the wild side effects, including absurd dreams and bizarre encounters.

Journaling: Write about your own circadian rhythm. Are you a night owl or an early bird? How does your natural sleep pattern affect your daily life, and do you embrace it or try to change it?

Journaling: Reflect on a time when you sacrificed sleep for a particular purpose. What motivated you to make that sacrifice, and how did it impact your overall well-being and productivity?

[the-endless-slumber]

"My name is ayumu...*yawn* You can call me ayu or shirai..."

"Hi, i'm ayumu, Shirai ayumu, *yawn* sorry... I haven't slept in a while, anyways, nice to meet you! I'm 16, turning 17 this year :) I work at the Armed Dectetive Agency, I'm still a rookie but... Well, I'm trying ig... Uhh... I'm not really good at talking with people, still, I hope we can get along!"

(Occ and other things are here ☟please read)

Ayumu is a member of the Armed Dectetive Agency that joined not so long ago, their parents died when they were 8 and wandered in the streets since then, there they met various people in their similar situation (probably knew or heard of akutagawa back then). they were found by an agency member after being injured by some wild animals in a nearby forest and after some rest they joined it, they still don't know most of the members of the ADA tho

Ability: ayumu's ability is 'The endless slumber', its a large range ability that puts the victim on a deep sleep or coma-like state, while they are on that state their mind/subconscious will be trapped in a type of limbo (in this case also a type of dream) where ayumu is in control of everything, it can be used to (mentally) torture the victim or just hold them back for some time.

The location or vibe of the dream is usually personalized depending the affected and also for what is going to happen inside it. This ability also has some negative effects on ayumu, as extreme exhaustion and insomnia, that is why ayumu is always found tired or sleepless.

Appearance:

Their overcoat was a gift from their mother some months before she died and now ayumu uses it all the time, ayumu prefers using comfortable clothes and are almost always used the same ones. Their earring/earpiece was also a gift, even though they aren't a jewelry person they want to remember how their mom and that were so they always use it.

likes: doing a good job, approval, feeling welcome, being alone, night, snacks, the feeling of not having more work

dislikes: society and not being able to sleep.

Height: 179cm/5 feet 10.5 inches

Lil funfact: they have gotten away with 60+ murders (not a big big number cuz it only happened thanks to or ability malfunctions or because someone hurt them), thief and arson :3

[banyantelehealth]

Utilizing Telehealth for Prescription Drug Addiction

Just because a medication is prescribed by a doctor doesn't mean that it cannot lead to addiction. For those in need of support but cannot operate with full time care, telehealth is a fantastic option.

Frequently Misused Prescription Medications

The growing concern about prescription drug addiction in today's society is exacerbated by the addictive nature of certain substances. Among the three classes of prescription drugs most commonly abused are benzodiazepines (benzos), opioids, and amphetamines.

Benzodiazepines like Xanax, Valium, and Ativan are commonly prescribed to treat anxiety, panic disorders, and sleeplessness. While effective, these medications can lead to physical dependence and addiction if used excessively or improperly.

Opioids such as oxycodone, hydrocodone, and morphine are widely used to manage severe pain but carry a significant risk of abuse and addiction. Opioids work by attaching to specific brain receptors, inhibiting pain signals, and inducing feelings of euphoria. Misusing opioids can lead to tolerance, dependence, and addiction.

Amphetamines, such as Adderall and Ritalin, are often prescribed for conditions like ADHD and narcolepsy, promoting mental focus, alertness, and energy by increasing neurotransmitter levels. However, amphetamine abuse can result in adverse effects like an accelerated heart rate, high blood pressure, insomnia, paranoia, and addiction, despite their appeal for cognitive enhancement or recreational use.

The Impact of Prescription Drug Abuse

Abusing prescription medications can have severe consequences on a person's personal, professional, physical, and mental well-being. It is crucial to raise awareness about these effects to encourage prevention and early intervention.

Impact on physical health: Prescription drug abuse can lead to various physical health issues. Opioids may cause liver damage, hormone imbalances, constipation, and respiratory depression. Benzodiazepines can result in drowsiness, dizziness, coordination problems, and memory issues. Amphetamines may lead to a rapid heartbeat, high blood pressure, sleep disturbances, and weight loss. Long-term misuse of prescription drugs can also harm organs, weaken the immune system, and increase the risk of infections.

Psychological and behavioral effects: Prescription drug abuse can lead to mood swings, anxiety, depression, impatience, and paranoia. It can also lower inhibitions, impair judgment, and promote risky behaviors, straining interpersonal relationships, family dynamics, and social networks.

Addiction and dependence: Prolonged misuse of prescription drugs can lead to addiction and dependence. Substance dependence occurs when the body becomes reliant on the drug and requires higher doses to achieve the same effects. Individuals with addiction experience compulsive cravings and continue using the substance despite the risks, often leading to withdrawal symptoms when trying to quit. Overcoming prescription drug addiction often requires extensive support and therapy.

Overdose or death: One of the most serious risks associated with prescription drug abuse is the potential for overdose. Taking higher than recommended doses or combining multiple medications can overwhelm the body's systems, leading to respiratory failure, coma, or even death. Opioid overdoses, in particular, have become a significant public health concern with a sharp rise in overdose-related deaths in recent years.

Recognizing the signs of prescription drug abuse is essential, as the persistence of such habits not only jeopardizes the user's physical and mental health but also their overall life and well-being. Early intervention and telehealth support can make a significant difference in helping individuals overcome prescription drug misuse and reclaim their lives.