#sleepless society insomnia

[bossthebicon]

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

[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.

[arminthada]

About TOSAA (Thai On-Screen Actor Association)

On February 24, Thai media reports that actors and actresses in Thailand has established TOSAA - Thai On-Screen Actor Association with the purpose and announced the first/current board of members.

Nat Kitcharit - President Works: Fast and Feel Love, 4 Kings, 4 Kings II, In Youth We Trust, Delete, I Told Sunset About You...

Nonkul Chanon Santinatornkul - 1st Vice President Works: Bad Genius, I Feel You Linger In The Air, 46 Days, The Revenge, 23:23, Operation Undead, Wannabe, Remember, Project S: Shoot! I Love You...

Ud Awat Ratanapintha - 2nd Vice President / International Coordination Division Works: Doi Boy, Operation Undead, Haunted Universities 3, Doctor Climax, Project S: SPIKE, Hormones The Series...

Aelm Bhumibhat Thavornsiri - Secretary Works: Spare Me Your Mercy, In Youth We Trust, Tomorrow and I, The Broken Us, Mom's Recipe, Nakorn-Sawan, The Up Rank, Khun Phan 3, Girl From Nowhere 2...

Ek Thaneth Warakulnukro - Advisor Works: Thai Cave Rescue, Hurts Like Hell, In Family We Trust, Tee Shot: Ariya Jutanugarn, Bad Genius, One For The Road...

Sine Inthira Jaroenpura - Spokesperson / PR Division Works: By the Time It Gets Dark, Nang Nak, 4 Kings II, Taklee Genesis, The Unborn, The House, Absolute Zero...

Oh Anuchit Sapanpong - Spokesperson / PR Division Works: Malila: The Farewell Flowers, The Overture, Kahon Maha Ratuek (Inspector Vedas), Thicha...

Donut Manatsanun Panlertwongskul - International Coordination / Special Actitivities Division Works: Thai Cave Rescue, The Edge of Daybreak, Rivalry...

Meng Chaiwat Chartsuriyakiat - Special activities Division Works: In Youth We Trust, Khun Phan 3... Meng is the drummer for Thai rock band Desktop Error.

Jaii Itkron Pungkiatrussamee - Director Works: In Youth We Trust, 4 Kings, 4 Kings II, The Cliche, The Stone... Jaii is the lead vocalist and guitarist of the Thai modern folk rock band TaitosmitH.

Linn Mashannoad Suvanamas - Director / Treasurer Works: Queendom, Voice In The Rain, Investigation of Love, Sampat Ruttikan, Lhong Fai, Mr. Hurt...

Best Nathasit Kotimanuswanich - Director Works: My Sassy Girl, Friend Zone, Friend Zone 2, Dark App, Sleepless Society: Insomnia, Fleet Of Time, Ghost Is All Around, Alone In Outing...

Mook Minrayaporn Somnongkham - Registrar Mook is an event planner and organiser at Bhorncheewaa Entertainment.

Although the official board has only been announced very recently, the association released its first statement on the objectives of the establishment of TOSAA in March 2024. Essentially, the main purpose is to gather Thai actors in any mediums such as feature films, documentaries, dramas or series with a common goal of creating professional standards for actors, facilitate an environment for exchange and development and be one of the driving forces that pushes Thai industry to the global standard.

Throughout the year of 2024, TOSAA hosted their series Monologue talks and roundtables between actors, similar to the format of Variety's Actors on Actors and The Hollywood Reporter's Roundtable.

1. Aelm Bhumibhat Thavornsiri and Pat Chayanit (EP 1 & EP 2)

2. Sine Inthira and Namfon Kullanat (EP 3 & EP 4)

3. Noi Pru, Jaii TaitosmitH, Nat Kitcharit (EP 5 & EP 6)

4. Monologue Roundtable with Aelm Bhumibhat, Anne Thongprasom, Oh Anuchit, Fresh Arisara, Nat Sakdatorn, Aom Phiyada (EP 1 & EP 2)

5. Monologue Roundtable with Nat Kitcharit, Gap Thanavate, Mote Pramote, Top Todsapol, Meng Chaiwat (EP 3 & EP 4)

Nat and Nonkul are actually members of Film Subcommittee for Thailand Creative Culture Agency which is an agency established by Thailand's National Soft Power Strategy Committee. (Bonus fun fact: Actor Tong Thanayut Thakoonauttaya, more known to QL fans for his roles in Kinnporsche, Man Suang, Tharntype... is actually a member of the Series Subcommittee of THACCA)

Here's an excerpt from a Deadline article detailing some of THACCA's plans.

Inspired by organizations such as Korea’s KOCCA, Taiwan’s TAICCA and France’s CNC, THACCA is described as an organization that “oversees strategic collaboration between the government and private sectors to create income and opportunities for the Thai people through soft power by using its cultural industries as a powerful tool.” It also oversees Thai creative industries including music, publishing, sports, games, design, fashion and food.  While total budget was not mentioned, THACCA is spending spending some $6.7M on Thai films, series, docs and animation in 2024-2025, investing in around 30-40 projects, and also plans to launch a new international film festival and T-Expo showcase for Thai content. A further $5.25M is being spent on reskilling the workforce. Longer term, there are plans to launch a Thailand Film Council, invest more in local productions and international co-productions, as well as promote Thai content overseas. Thailand’s government is also planning to establish Media Business Economic Zones, with Pattaya mentioned as a location, and expand cinema circuits in rural areas. 

So at the same time that THACCA was being worked on for its pilot programmes in 2024, Nat and Nonkul were already gathering their actors friends to come together and plan the establishment of TOSAA (Thai On-Screen Actors Association).

I did wonder if this association would be similar to the American Screen Actors Guild. And I found in this article with Meng Chaiwat Chartsuriyakiat that the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike for fair wages was indeed one of the reasons that sparked the actors to come together to push for on-screen standards for Thai media.

pinging friends @flowerbeasblog @virtualtadpole @mukaikun @thomaskong @chayatorns @kittychicha who may be interested in general thai media landscape news.

[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.

[labodabi]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑡 × 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑒! 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ( part 1 )

This headcanons includes obessive themes. You've been warned!

I think of a yandere poet from the 20th century. Tall, with sharp and somewhat rough features. With dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights at his desk and a naturally tired, melancholy expression.

yandere poet, who despite his appearance is bold, brave, passionate and purposeful. He is not afraid to write about the most problematic and disgusting things that are usually kept silent in society. People considered him a fan of attracting scandals and negativity, but the poet ignores criticism: the poet is a divine gift, whose mouth speaks the truth. It is not his fault that reality is so cruel and unpleasant.

yandere poet who could not get recognition for a long time. It sounds funny and contradictory, but no matter how indifferent and sublime he seemed, a banal human need always makes itself known. He just wanted a person who could understand and appreciate him.

A yandere poet who, deep down, is like a sad puppy trying to find shelter in someone. and one day he found you. Too unexpectedly. You, at a literary evening. Smiling, with eyes sparkling with admiration and joy. Applauding his poem, on which he had worked so painstakingly for so many years. He had never blushed so much in his life. The man smiled awkwardly and bowed, muttering "thank you, thank you." And who would have thought that a simple thank you could become the beginning of a fatal end. Most of all for you, of course After a wonderful evening, at night, in the dim light of a kerosene lamp, he thought of nothing but you. Your smile, your beautiful eyes. He was already tormented by insomnia, but now he could not fall asleep until dawn. The thought of you made him feel a powerful charge of adrenaline and euphoria, which dragged the guy out of his warm bed and shouted "Hey, don't sleep! Keep creating and delighting her ears!"

yandere poet, who for a long time could not pull himself together and get to know you in person, despite the fact that you often saw each other at literary evenings, concerts, performances, and so on. You had some strange, inexplicable power that takes away a man's language and any banal communication skills. At such moments, he looked like a complete idiot: standing like a statue, his mouth open, from which not a word comes out. After such meetings, he becomes incredibly ashamed. Burying his face in a pillow, he promises himself not to approach you anymore. But each time he betrays himself, breaking this promise.

yandere poet, for whom you become a muse. You never leave his mind alone and encourage him to create, create and create again. With your appearance in his life, the yandere poet begins a new stage of poetry, consisting mainly of love lyrics. The new collection, which he had to publish himself, was entirely dedicated to one girl who desperately did not want to leave his head. I think you have already guessed who we are talking about. During this period, the poet receives his first fame. yandere poet who finally manages to befriend you. Of course, it was you who made the first move, because he was too scared and shy. But oh, your melodic voice and gentle hands inspired him to write a new poem again. you had so much in common. You discussed important issues in society and the country, literature, history and just everyday routine life. For you it was just a coincidence, but for a man it means so much. He seriously thinks that it is fate. That God himself decided that you were made for each other. And he is literally obsessed with this idea.

yandere poet who always shares his masterpieces with you first. You smile, sigh and admire the sensuality, passion and unimaginable pain that the man puts into each line. And you don't even suspect that the poet experienced all these emotions because of you. The more the yandere poet becomes famous, the more your relationship becomes surrounded by nasty rumors. You are not happy with this, and you try in every way to refute the stories about your "romance" from the tabloids. But the poet himself does not care what these pathetic, superficial cockroaches say about him. It is low of him to even think about it, and he does not have much time for it. What gossip is there when right now his heart is burning with hellish flames, and no one can extinguish this fire, which is growing stronger every day, burning from the inside and leaving incurable scars? You, frankly, do not really like his indifference on this matter. However, the man, gently stroking your shoulders, assures that you should not worry about it: rumors disappear as quickly as they appear.

yandere poet, who has not yet achieved your love, but has already made a whole list of plans for your future together. This list includes plans for a wedding. The poet's head has never even thought that you could love someone else. Next to you, he loses all rationality, puts on pink glasses and does not want to see the truth. because you talk to him so enthusiastically, smile, twirl your hair...what is this if not love? You just don't want to talk about it directly, wanting him, as a man, to do everything himself. And so be it. He will play by your rules But something is wrong. Wait... who were you with at that concert? Who were you blushing in front of, gracefully waving your hand in greeting? Whose letter are you reading with such satisfaction? Gritting his teeth, the man politely asks you about the young man you met at the inauguration. However, in response he only receives more questions. Could it have been an affair on the side? No, he desperately does not want to believe it. You were so close, a happy future awaited you (which he himself invented). There was such a spark between you... did it really mean nothing to you? Was it an empty phrase for you? But it is not so. Your connection was predetermined by the universe. but it seems like there's a glitch in the universe. Poet will soon find out that you're dating another guy. From your own lips. You told him about it one day at his tea table. He almost choked. Judging by the joyful smile and the glimmer of hope in his eyes, you really hoped for his support and congratulations. After all, you are no longer strangers to each other: like-minded people engaged in creativity. How naive. For a long time, he could not say a word. His eyes stared at you, without blinking. His face was completely emotionless. He sat like that for several minutes, like a stone statue. Behind this was a whole fire, which the man could not contain this time.

A yandere poet, whose death grip immediately appears on your hand. Tears well up on his face, and his lips tremble, trying to mumble: "no, this can't be... this is impossible." You expected any reaction from a creative person, but clearly not this. You try to ask what happened, but he ignores the questions, there is no opportunity to pull your wrist away and get up either. The man's other hand, shaking, harshly strokes your cheek. Desperately, as if he is afraid of not remembering how your soft skin feels on his palm. As if he is afraid that you will fly away like a free bird and never return, as soon as he loosens his grip. " no, that can't be...why? Have I really meant nothing to you all this time? "You blink your eyes in fear. "What do you mean!?" He leans dangerously close to you. Your lips are a millimeter away from a kiss. "How can you not understand this? That I love you, after all!!!" Oh, he shouldn't have given in to his anger. His cheek immediately flared up from a sharp and loud slap. Without turning his head in your direction, the poet tries to comprehend what is happening. It hurts not so much from the blow, but from the fact that you left him. Pushed him away. Renounced him. " ..."Sorry. I think I have to go" - the last words chilled his fiery heart. You quickly get up from the chair and, casually throwing on your coat, run out into the street. From that day on, you no longer appeared in his house.

A yandere poet whose whole world collapsed at the same moment. He wastes ink only to write tons of letters of apology. About what an idiot he is, that he made the worst mistake in the world, that he is not enough for such a beautiful woman like you, but still can't help but love you. The man sends these letters every day, but it's all useless. There is no answer. The fire in his heart becomes stronger and stronger, preventing him from thinking and creating. Even from simply breathing. Well, from you... there is not even a cold. Absolute emptiness that drives a desperate poet crazy.

You doomed him to real suffering.

[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…?

[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).

[digswithtigs]

https://www.tumblr.com/starlight-incarnate/757073550166327296/house-of-fe%C3%A4nor-as-aesthetics-f%C3%ABanor-loud?source=share @starlightincarnate

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.

[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.

[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.