#to hide in order protect oneself and others

[fettery-fetterie]

saw these again, they're kinda neat i think

[lunarlianna]

Medusa Asteroid ( 149)

The Medusa myth is a compelling tale encompassing themes of power, fear and transformation. Medusa, born from the sea gods Phorcys and Ceto, was the only mortal among the Gorgon sisters. Originally, Medusa was a stunning maiden who captured the attention of Poseidon, leading to a grievous violation within the sacred confines of Athena's temple. In order to protect her, Athena transformed Medusa's hair into a mass of serpents, bestowing upon her a petrifying gaze. Medusa's astrological connection with the asteroid 149 suggests her influence recurs periodically, like seasons, lasting about 3.2 years. This implies cyclic challenges and growth tied to her themes.

Her family lineage underscores sibling rivalry and a sense of being different. After her transformation, Medusa retreats from the world, which can reflect where we tend to hide. Confronting these hidden truths requires courage and wisdom. Medusa's connection to Athena links her to Jupiterian qualities, offering insights when considering her placement with Jupiter in your chart. Some individuals with a strong Medusa presence may struggle with self-perception, seeing themselves as a metaphorical monster in the mirror. Others may possess an intimidating gaze that isolates them. Medusa's myth explores profound psychological and ethical themes, emphasizing self-awareness, ethical choices, and facing consequences. In astrology, Medusa indicates a swift and forceful defense mechanism to protect oneself, potentially causing tension, wounds, and unjust criticism in specific life areas, ultimately prompting personal growth.

Medusa in the 1st house: can give you a magnetic and intense presence that sometimes triggers negative reactions from strangers. Your hair and eyes, tends to draw attention, potentially making you a target for bullies or disrespectful comments in childhood. You may tend to stay hidden and to hide your body but you always end up being villainized. However, your transformative journey involves transcending these adversities. You rise above others' insecurities and boldly embrace your individuality. Empowering yourself by disregarding hurtful comments, you nurture self-appreciation and self-confidence despite societal pressures to conform.

Medusa in the 2nd house: can make you appear very self-assured and confident but you might find it difficult to see your own self-worth. Your voice may be quite attractive, and you might excel in business or singing. Financial success and possessions could come easily, but you may also face envy for your wealth. You may tend to hide the possession that you have and the inheritance that you received, especially from your husband. However, you can transform from this by maintaining your dignity, adapting to change, and valuing inner beauty over material possessions. Your makeup style may accentuate your allure, but be cautious of attracting unwanted attention in relationships.

Medusa in the 3rd house: may lead to tension with siblings and peers. In early years you may be quite shy and scared to express your opinion. In the neighborhood or with your siblings, things that go wrong might end up being attributed to you. Your social interactions may lead you to encounter individuals who are less than truthful, which can be frustrating. In some cases, people might misunderstand your intentions, labeling you as two-faced or even anti-social, especially if you're more introverted. However, your transformation comes by becoming more confident and setting boundaries, expressing your opinions assertively, and speaking up courageously when needed. Your ability to address uncomfortable truths may inspire others to do the same.

Medusa in the 4th house: can trigger negative reactions from family members. You might inherit certain challenging behaviors from an older relative and sense negative energy at home, possibly due to constant parental arguments. The them around you home can be quite unconventional, have an edgy look with marine and blue vibes to it. Your strong self-awareness and purposefulness can make it difficult for others to deceive or influence you. You've learned to establish your inner sanctuary, and you're protective of your emotions, possibly due to early criticism from a family member. This can lead to a desire for control and a slow transition when getting out of your comfort zone around others.

Medusa in the 5th house: with this placement people may envy or have hidden agendas, especially when you express your full self. You may tend to hide your art work and your creative endeavors, especially when younger. A lack of desire for children may bring you rumors, criticize and scandals. You're often villainized for outgrowing relationships and embracing change. There's a remarkable ability to protect your passions with unwavering determination, refusing to succumb to societal pressures or stifling expectations. In your life, you may attract partners with abusive tendencies and face misunderstandings due to your sincere kindness.

Medusa in the 6th house: people may envy your disciplined approach to daily life and work. In early years you might have encountered challenges with schoolmates and later, colleagues at work, a consistent inclination toward people-pleasing is noticeable. You've transformed from a people-pleaser to someone who values personal freedom and control. You're protective of your routines and may confront those who disrupt them, also you may like to adopt unusual pets and are very protective over them. You maintain a keen sense of discernment, especially regarding manipulative individuals, particularly men.

Medusa in the 7th house: your relationships may have faced challenges, and you could have experienced envy from others. People might see you as the peacemaker, but when you rebel, you face criticism. Controlling dynamics may have been part of your past relationships, and you may have experienced manipulation or guilt-tripping. People may envy your romantic connections, and sabotage could taint your relationships. You're villainized for not conforming to a one-dimensional image, for having your own vulnerabilities and complexities. To transform, reevaluate your role in relationships, recognize that you're not solely a caretaker, and insist on mutual partnership and empathy from others.

Medusa in the 8th house:  with this placement, you may encounter challenges in your intimate life due to being oversexualized. Loved ones might underestimate your pain, assuming you're always strong. Expressing yourself is often met with dismissal or minimization of your trauma. Your interactions can be intense and alluring, sometimes leading to obsessions, especially in intimate relationships. You tend to attract controlling individuals and even stalkers, people that usually want to know all your secrets. Some may envy your constant transformation, which can lead to competition or backbiting. Transformation comes for owning your sexuality and being in control of your finances. Remember, your personal growth is something to be proud of, despite others' negativity.

Medusa in the 9th house: your profound wisdom and exceptional intelligence often set you apart. While your deep knowledge and unique beliefs may not always find immediate acceptance, they are a testament to your unwavering commitment to your values. You naturally challenge cultural and religious norms; your spiritual journey is highly transformative and you usually hide your spiritual beliefs. It's important to recognize that your wisdom and spiritual insights have the potential to inspire and enlighten others, even when they struggle to fully comprehend your perspective.

Medusa in the 10th house: can create a unique journey in your work environment, where you might unknowingly trigger feelings of jealousy and face unkind energies from others. Your public image tends to be captivating, but this can occasionally result in clashes with government or legal matters. Challenges in your career and with authority figures are not uncommon with this placement, as there may have been expectations from your father for you to follow in his footsteps. As you age, you're likely to discover a growing sense of personal power and influence. It's important to recognize that these experiences have shaped you, and they offer opportunities for personal growth and transformation.

Medusa in the 11th house: you might keep your dreams and ambitions hidden because of the jealousy and envy you witnessed from your friends during your early years. Your upbringing might have exposed you to less-than-ideal community conditions, which may have led to toxic friendships and betrayals from people you considered friends. However, you do have genuine friends who share interests in astrology, spirituality, or religion with you, and these connections are meaningful. People might judge you or be envious, but this likely stems from their own insecurities. You're resilient and have the potential to make a positive impact on your community and the world in your own unique way.

Medusa in the 12th house: you might have experienced a pattern of encountering hidden adversaries in your life, which could be tied to karmic elements. This placement could also suggest a tendency to turn to intoxicants, like alcohol, which might symbolize a form of personal poison. Many with this placement may feel a strong bond with water elements, often expressing it through tattoos or jewelry featuring water symbols, seashells, or even snakes. Vivid snake dreams can serve as cautionary messages, urging vigilance against hidden adversaries. Your spiritual pursuits might be perceived as disruptive to community and family norms, causing some to view you as a threat due to your ability to see through deception when others can't.  Balancing vulnerability, self-protection, skepticism, and warmth highlights the need for compassion when confronting hidden traumas and fears in this placement.

[sonicasura]

Biological Complications of Being A Kaiju

Here we are with my personal thoughts on the possible biological changes done to Kaiju No. 8's Kafka Hibino. I will be talking about different biology such as reproductive amongst others things. Fair warning that shit will get weird. (Nothing is sacred with kaiju.) Now let's get started.

Kafka's kaiju form has traits seen from various different animals mainly reptiles and sharks. His hide acts closer to that of the Nurse Shark with some traits of marine iguanas alongside poisonous frogs. Thanks to this, he can secrete substances like poison or liquid waste from his entire body. (Kafka doesn't fully know this because otherwise the man would never use his nips like THAT again.)

Similar to Marine Iguanas, his kaiju side is an very adept swimmer. Kafka's average speed can be clocked around 80mph in water but he could go even faster by manifesting a tail and webbing his hands/feet. The awkward shape of his neck conceals special gils that filters out water or harmful gases.

Kafka is cold blooded to a degree. He prefers seeking out warmth by sunbathing but it'll take constant extreme cold to make him hibernate. Attempts to force him into such a state will result in his kaiju side growing thick fur similar to polar bears as a defense mechanism. This coat being shed off over the course of Spring and regrown during the fall.

Kafka's body will adapt under extremely stressful situations. These particular changes can be difficult to near impossible for him to will away as they were done by Tiny(Mosquito Kaiju). Pecking order involving alterations to their kaiju form: Tiny, Kafka, Ai.

Fangs are very similar to that of any shark. Should Kafka lose any then new ones normally grow in after two minutes. His jaw strengthens matches that of an alligator mixed with a snapping turtle. Unless Kafka lets go then breaking his teeth is the only way to free oneself. Although the fangs will be embedded in his victim as a way to cripple them.

Kafka has a tendency to shed his scales from time to time. A normal process as its a way for his body to naturally dispose of the dead ones. Losing large patches occurs from either sickness or bi-annual molting.

Similar to a lizard, Kafka can climb and hang on different surfaces. His claws are perfect to retain his grip should the climbing target be slippery or someone tries to pull him off. If push comes to shove, one adaptation Kafka can use is camouflage similar to a chameleon.

*Reproductive Section is here. You can skip this as nothing new is past it.*

Reproductive organs are still present even in kaiju form. Similar to a lizard, Kafka's genitals are hidden behind a cloaca for protection. His kaiju form comes with both sets of reproductive organs i.e male and female.

The species are highly adaptive when it comes to keeping their population numbers stable. Kafka wasn't exactly happy to learn about this change. Especially since most kaiju are the egg laying type, his included.

Should conception occur then at least 3-5 eggs are laid after 3 weeks. During that time period, Kafka will eat twice his body weight and be quite aggressive around unfamiliar faces. A nest is also made from various bedding materials like pillows, blankets, to even mattresses.

Eggs will hatch in the span of 4-7 weeks. Newborn hatchlings are the size of kittens and have small fangs as they only feed on meat or fish at this age. They age at the same rate humans do thus reach full maturity in around 20 years. All of them will have a human form and obtain it at the 4-5 year mark.

Similar to a possum, Kafka will carry any whelp he has on his back. His instincts make it difficult for him to leave them alone for too long until they are at least 3 months old. It'll take some heavy persuasion from anyone close to Kafka to have someone babysit for him during that time period.

Experimenting with Kaiju biology is quite the acid trip, huh?

[kaedekolya]

just some analysing and theorising before lars' route drops — i'm thinking about how azure island routes reflect the awakening themes, while serving as foils to how awakening went down.

(spoilers for all awakening routes + lars white day, clarence godheim & eden)

in awakening: ayn's refusal, and perhaps inability, to relinquish his grasp on power; it is a lifeline he clings to, a desperate and necessary means to an end. the standstill and stalemate he and mc find themselves in, unable to do much but wait out the countdown to the day of action. his route ends on a cliffhanger, suspended at the crossroads; there is no resolution, no progress, no moving forward. in azure island: ayn and mc leave the relic of the past where it is meant to stay, as an enduring reminder of a bygone time, rather than bringing it into the present. they recognise that commemorating the past, and not trapping oneself within it, is what allows one to move forward with the flow of time. instead of a suffocating limitation, power is an empowering strength.

in awakening: alkaid acts on his own behind mc's back, for her sake. he deceives her, effectively disregarding and overriding whatever her wishes and values may be by not consulting her beforehand. his protective instincts are so overwhelming that it veers into an implicit distrust of her abilities; he must go to extreme lengths to keep her safe, else he risks her getting hurt if left to her own devices. he fears that she may not love all of him, may shun the darker parts of him, so he hides behind a mask crafted to be liked. in azure island: alkaid still yearns to protect mc, but he upholds her agency and autonomy above all else. he recognises that there are places he cannot follow her to, and actions he cannot take on her behalf; sometimes the best way to protect her is to let her venture off alone, trusting in her ability to defend herself, and wait in the wings for the moment he is needed. he learns to trust that she accepts and loves him as he is, in the same way that she shares the full truth with him, allowing them to fall in sync on the same open wavelength.

so i’m thinking about the name of lars’ route — a trip to central america — and how his awakening route was also a trip, in a way. through the waterways, in the simulation, and through space, outside of it. both are journeys he has no choice but to undertake alone; even though he is accompanied by the navigator, she is a mere facsimile that can only imitate companionship, never truly replicating it. the untraversable distance between lars and the kidnapped mc, as well as lars and the navigator, meant that he had to put himself through the wringer in a futile attempt to close the gap. it makes me think of lars’ white day route, too — how he had no choice but to wait alone, mired in worry and anxiety, while mc journeyed across time and space on her own. perhaps his azure island route will demonstrate the progression in their relationship by having them journey together, for a change; they may have different purposes and goals in life, but they can walk their paths together, working in tandem rather than only watching and waiting from afar. instead of seeking answers themselves, they will give each other certainty, a mutual support as they traverse what their shared future holds.

as for clarence — glacier memories — i wonder if his route will expand upon what unfolded in his white day route, namely the part where he learned about the archmage. there are so many parallels between his awakening route and his godheim one — deliberately hurting themselves in an attempt to seek the truth of their own nature, as well as willingly subjecting themselves to an indefinite solitude and a potential eternity of waiting in order to protect the worlds they hold dear. perhaps learning more about his godheim counterpart might spur an epiphany — that merely treating himself as a tool whose worth is defined by its function, a mere means to an envisioned end, will ultimately bring sorrow to the very people he sacrifices himself for. i’m also thinking about the falcon — though of course there aren’t any glaciers in eden, but memories (and the loss of them) are a reoccurring theme in both eden and awakening. in eden, the way clarence's memory slowly starts to fail him as he gradually loses his grasp on his humanity, faltering towards the monstrous lost side within him; in awakening, the way his memories give his android selves a semblance of humanity, and how they allow his cyborg self to retain what makes him human. memories allow clarence to have a concept of the self, to safeguard his goals and sustain his motivations. while he still embodies certain enduring traits, modern world clarence is significantly more well-adjusted than his counterparts — so perhaps seeing the loneliness and the suffering of his counterparts may nudge him away from treading the same path, and towards one of sharing the weight of his worries with mc rather than bearing the burden solely on his own shoulders.

cael… is cael, which makes him that much more difficult to theorise about, but "forget-me-not” makes me think of what unfolded in his awakening route — how someone’s story, someone’s love, can live on through the telling and retelling of folktales. yet, also, how holding on to a memory can warp one’s perception and one’s emotions. just like how darya wound up twisted by her painful memories of the past, trapped in the longing for a time she can never return to. “time can never turn back, my lover can never return, the river does not flow back to the source. only i still remember, these joys and sorrows.” perhaps, sometimes, remembering causes more suffering than forgetting. perhaps one must learn to bid farewell to the past, to come to terms with what has been lost, in order to truly live. just as the white city and all that it stood for will slowly be lost to the sands of time, so too will their world — but perhaps there is freedom in forgetting, and a poignance to rediscovering bygone memories further down the road. and perhaps, by allowing some memories to fade, the ones that are more precious, more deeply cherished, will have the space to linger longer.

[karizard-ao3]

My reactions to Evangelion, episode 16: Splitting of the Breast

Shinji is the real Angel on this show.

Is this the Longinus Sphere? Lol

Asuka! Petty!

Oh, Shinji. My baby. He is so cute and precious and sweet and I love to see him smile.

Plugs all around the city.

Shinji! No! He's never going to be brave and confident again after this.

Will he have to defeat it from the inside?

Will he learn terrible things?

Rei is worried about him and Unit 1

Rei does not like Asuka talking shit about her little Shinji. I think this is just Asuka's way of trying to hide that she is scared and possibly feels responsible for goading him into taking point.

There's my son.

It possibly connects to another universe. Huh.

Wow, Ritsuko.

You and me both, Misato. I also want to know all that stuff.

Shinji can't swim

There's rumors Gendo killed his wife.

I wonder if they keep the Evas battery powered so they can control them better

Okay, so Evas are copies of Angels, but not exact replicas.

"If Rei or Shinji ever found out the secret of the Evas, they would probably never forgive us". So before I was saying maybe the Evas have personalities implanted or whatever. Is it from their moms who were sisters or something?

In Conclusion

I'm still trying to fully wrap my head around what Shinji experienced inside the orb, but the talk about there being multiple versions of oneself feels very significant. I liked the part about Shinji being afraid of the version of himself that lives in others. I'm trying to piece together the ghost of his mom coming for him but I'm really thinking at this point that she is indeed the personality inside the Eva. I mean, look how easily they sync, how quickly it acted to protect him in the first episode even though it shouldn't have been able to, and the way it tore out of that sphere in time for Shinji to survive. Perhaps inside that Eva is his mother who loves him. Would she have had to die in order to transfer her personality over? Or is she being kept in stasis somewhere, since there's no body? Was her body infused with Angel DNA and formed into an Eva?

No time for a bunch of musing! My kid will be home in about 45 minutes. I have to get watching the next episode.

[ccaptain]

History Fictionologists. Hierarchy & Becoming a ''being'':

I have mentioned in almost every single one of my posts that H:SR Kaeya has lived for what I estimate to be millennias after being turned into a ''being'' of the Enigmata, and had time to develope himself and make experiences mostly by himself. By now, he has enstabilished himself as a kind character, if not a bit weird, with strong morals oriented towards a justice that he perceives.

He defines himself as a Fictionologists, but this isn't the truth. As per usual with the Enigmata and anything involving it, nothing is that simple.

I have imagined that, in this Path, there is a non-spoken hierarchy made of two distinct roles:

- The History Fictionologists, composed mostly of human Emanators of the Enigmata who operate long-distance avatars made from many collected traits from multiple sources. They predominantly work on altering history on paper in their personal Archives. - The ''beings'' of the Enigmata, Emanators turned into non-humans selected by Mythos. Trained to burn away their past identity and turned into eternal creatures, they are essentially back-ups of the limited human Fictionologists and operate on shrouding history in lies with more active approaches. 

These two roles technically belong in the same category- but to a trained eye who knows Fictionologists from experience, ''beings'' will always be recognizable due to the uncanny vibes they emit and can be picked up by other humans.

''It'' is commonly referred to a ''being'' approaching this concept in the first stage, stripped bare of anything they have of value. Social manners. Emotions. Knowledge. Communication skills. A purpose. It's a creature that has returned to Level 0, having to re-learn everything from the bare bones in order to pass off as human. 

A loss of their previous identity is necessary to achieve the status of ''being'' for their safety: while human Fictionologists can create entirely new avatars without the truth about them being revealed and causing them harm, the identity of a ''being'' being shone truth on would vanish as a whole- ''beings'' do not use a long-distance avatar, instead becoming one themselves. And thus, they need their previous identities to whittle away to make them unfoggable- eternally present, a forever unresolved mistery and a threat to those who think the human mind is strong enough to face the truth. To discover the truth behind someone's avatar is to erase it- for ''beings'', the stakes are much higher, and thus this process may seem cruel, but necessary.

The stages of a ''being'' have three phases, named as such by fascinated human Fictionologists:

Level 0, also called the Morphing Phase. The individual enters a slow process of degradation of the self that strips away anything related to their previous personality and identity they had, and morphs them into a new, clean slate with only the basic knowledge attached to what remains of them. It can be a very slow process and varies from person to person.  Level 1, also called Screening Phase. The ''being'' stemmed from the Morphing Phase needs to either re-learn by themselves or be taught again how to properly pass off as a normal human, before it can begin any sort of mission; for everything that they learn, whatever was left of their previous identity, if there were any remnants left of it, is further discarded as they become an entirely different thing. This process has been observed to be significantly sped up by turning oneself into an avatar, as the ''being'' absorbs the knowledge along with whatever traits they select; the name of this phase derives from the word screen as a verb, aka to block, protect or hide someone or something with a screen- related to how gaining different traits as a new avatar effectively acts as if the ''being'' was putting a ''screen'' in front of their true identity. Level 2, commonly paired and also at odds with Level 3, doesn't have a proper name: this was often a point of friction among the Fictionologists, who wanted the last two agents, Riddle and Mirage, to be somehow paired together in a new name to more easilbe able to group. However, after observing the ''beings'' for so long, it has been concluded that their behavior cannot be grouped under a singular name. Some of the ''beings'' grow to naturally pick the Riddle aspect, choosing to spread falselihood through voice and difficult guessing games that often reach a different branch of lies instead of the truth, where others grow closer to the Mirage one- using more tangible methods, such as manuscripts, recounts of historical events on papers, and even visual alterations of historical trinkets. Beings who are able to manipulate both subpaths are considered ''extraordinary'' and held in high regards. At some point, they can even become mentors themselves.

Once a ''being'' has reached the end of the Morphing level, it's usually paired with either a single human Fictionologist, who has expressed interest in teaching to ''it'' until a satisfying level of knowledge is reached, and to document the experience- or with a group of Fictionologists who were extremely attuned in working as a team, in order to not give contrasting instructions to the ''being''.

The Screening Phase can last weeks, months or even years. Every ''being'' takes its time to learn, and every human Fictionologist has their methods to teach. If an human and a ''being'' clash, the ''being'' is immediately reassigned to another proper human teacher in order not to hinder the process too much.

When Level 2, aka the successful ''screening'' is complete through becoming an avatar, the ''being'' is sufficiently proficient in mimicking that it can essentially ''graduate'' and be sent in the outside world to undertake the task of directly shroud history- thus engaging in Level 2 or 3 based on what they feel more inclined to take.

That being said, usually an human Fictionologist and the ''being'' they taught to usually stay in good terms. There are reports of Fictionologists essentially becoming friends or becoming found family for the ''beings'', as they continue to be reported to. This is not frowned upon and has become the normality in how things work, in order for history to continue being shrouded both in writing and person.

[darkolai-playlist]

Ulla and Nikolai have the potential to be a comedy duo because they absolutely not trust each other and Ulla has enough traumas with princes, Nikolai has enough trauma with sea creatures, but they're Aleksander's most trusted people so...

The banter, the sarcasm, the conversations about the sea and what it means to them, the talk about ex lovers and lost opportunities, about being the little siblings, etc. They'd also keep Aleksander in check, 'cause if they agree at something, then it must be it, you know?

Aleksander is so happy with them. He dreamed of just that, having company, being with his sister, having a friend or lover to share his love for Ravka.

He knows Ulla get it, the heartbreak of betrayal, of being used as a tool, of only being valuable for your powers, of being discriminated and hated and isolated and hunted and— how it feels to not being quiet mortal, of seeing cruel tragedy slide with the years in an endless march. She knows of the darkness, of being ruined, scarred, afraid and powerless. They hold onto each other 'cause in the end, that's all they'll always have. Each other. The world will crumble around them, turn to dust, all their mortal friends will slowly die, all kingdoms will go back to the dirt, wars will be fought, peace will return and they will still live for another day or week or month or many years. They don't even look old yet. They could break the world, mend it and still live centuries. Their only consolation is that they won't have to be alone all that time.

And he knows Nikolai can't understand or known many things about him, but he knows a thing or two about being willing to sacrifice oneself for Ravka, for a chance to make a better world, to protect ones home. The pressure of leadership and who you have to be to maintain order, the fact you have to make those decisions, shoulder the blame once it comes, let go of the glory they will not attribute to you. You can't expect them to be grateful, you can't expect them to see you as a man, not a monster or a martyr, not a saint or a witch. Complete devotion, the type that destroys from the inside out, and yet— and yet they find kindness in each other, comprehension, they find someone to lean on, someone who can look at you and you think you worth more than what they made of you. Someone to love, despite it all.

Nikolai and Ulla would probably become closer than they thought, in the end. Maybe Nikolai can show Ulla that not all princes are traitorous men waiting to take advantage of powerful strange girls in love. Maybe Ulla can show Nikolai the wonders of the sea that he'd never got to see to himself, what hides beyond his piece of the world. Maybe together they could mend Aleksander's aching darkened heart, fight his shadows to allow him to see the light. Give him a place where he doesn't have to be a general or a tool, he can be just a man and live and feel like just a man.

[no-light-left-on]

thinking still about how the Heart calls the Whalers 'puppets' and the amount of mystery there is around them, when playing as Corvo and perceiving them through the Heart, in comparison to how they are in reality.

we see them talk to each other in a manner any people would. they consider insubordination, they talk badly of Daud behind his back, we have Billie betray him. there are some that are loyal, yes, be it because they believe in Daud or because they see gain in this path, but by no means are they a monolyth.

however, we do hear from the Heart about a 'fog that surrounds them and hides their secrets' and it is even confirmed, by Billie (and also Galia in the books) that leaving Daud made them 'think clearly for the first time in years'

I've seen a couple theories and I do want to dive into each, to an extent.

there's the suggestion of the Heart talking badly of them, calling them mindless drones that only kill out of hatred and hurt. which, valid. the Heart also says certain things about Daud, 'why did you bring me here? do you expect me to forgive him?', so it's not unlikely that their attitude towards human lives and their willingness to kill for Daud is repulsive enough that the Heart does not see past it

another option is that the mindless puppets is more of a metaphor and is meant to talk about how the Whalers are, in a sense, a cult. which would be incredibly interesting to explore if we had more information on how the Whalers function. now I do want to point out that by cult I do not mean it in a Secluded Religious Organization but as a sociological thing. a literal cult if you will, with a leader that charms their followers, the seclusion and all the unhealthy attitudes of losing oneself to the group. and, that does check out - the loss of individuality, they are as one, following someone's orders without hesitation, someone they would die for. there are a lot of unsavory implications here (if you know how cults work, you probably had some cross your mind already), but arguably Daud is not charming enough to be a proper cult leader. the appeal is the magic, and his excellent skills as an assassin and a leader. maybe it's because of the time we see the Whalers at, right before a collapse, but Daud is regularly doubted and we see a lot of insubordination. the Whalers are not necessarily loyal to him because of who he is as a person. they want the power, they want the influence, maybe the protection, and the things keeping them from disobeying are fear, rather than loyalty.

the third thought or theory is, then, that many of these symptoms can be explained by the influence of the Void. we know the Void affects people, both physically as we see with Delilah's Witches or the Eyeless, as it influences them mentally, if the high numbers of people going mad because of their worship are something to go by. if, then, the Whalers are bound to the Void through Daud, it only makes sense that they would be influenced by this link to something that messes with people's brains. Galia saying she feels better after her Arcane Bond faded could easily mean that the influence the Void had on her has faded, and the creeping madness of it has subsided significantly.

all of these most likely come into play. one of the Heart's lines in dh2, if we point at a Witch, is reciting some of the recipes the Witches chant before quickly apologising. we do learn significantly more about them than we do about the Whalers, of course, possibly because Jessamine has more ill will towards the Whalers than to the Witches. still we see the Void affect the Heart. there is also a notion that the Witches are 'not quite human' due to their Arcane bond.

there's no real conclusion. it's just interesting

[gevauxie]

I had a Russian Doll toy when I was young.

Tom's diary was laid out on the bare prison desk before him. His ink was running low. He sucked at the nib of the quill, ignoring its bitter taste, using his tongue to wet the end. Once it was running freely again, he lowered it back down. He carried on scratching away.

...The doll was a gift. A hand-me-down, from some crazed Victorian benefactor who visited the orphanage once every other blue moon. She was an older woman; all fur coat and stiff upper lip, the kind that quite clearly had no time for children, and did her best to avoid them where she could. God knows why she donated to the crumbling monolith that was the Wool’s Institute for Impoverished Boys and Girls. Perhaps it made her look good to her high society friends. Perhaps it gave her something to boast about over dinner.

Regardless, she came to visit every now and then. We always knew she was coming because we were all forced to bathe the night before, and matron would come round with a nit-comb and an old tin box of talc. We’d have our hair scraped back and our shirt collars ironed out. Everything was packed and put away, and after breakfast we were made to stand in a long, straggly line by the front door.

The benefactor rang the doorbell. Nobody rang the doorbell. They either knocked on the knocker or they didn’t come at all.

She always hobbled in, clanking like the rusted screws on the side of a radiator. Her nose was hooked, her warts visible; my first encounter with what I thought was an old wicked witch. The classic bogeyman of children’s fairy stories – but a far cry from the real thing, I had come to realise.

She strode forwards, inspecting each of us in turn. We stood in alphabetical order, so as a member of the ‘R’s, I was toward the back of the queue. But she always paused when she got to me. Her black-toed heels came to a determined stop, and she peered down, meeting my eye.

She liked me. She always had. I couldn’t really put my finger on why; perhaps it was because she saw in me something that reminded her of herself. She saw the fire behind my gaze, no matter how forcefully I tried to smother it; she saw the flash of defiance, and the refusal to sit down and accept my lot. She looked at me and saw a fighter, a savage who would do anything – and everything – to achieve whatever it was that they wanted. I had a feral animal somewhere inside of me. At that age, I just needed to learn how to tame it.

The benefactor bent down, with what looked like great effort. She leant heavy on her cane and her knees popped. She produced the little doll from the inside of her fur coat pocket.

"Look at this," she said. "And tell me what you see."

I had looked at it. I had looked at its squat painted head, and at the delicate red and blue flowers that made up the pattern of its dress. I had taken it from her outstretched hand and had turned it over between both of my own. I remember the wooden curves of its surface being smooth.

"It’s fat," I said. "Fat and ugly."

The benefactor had sighed with impatience.

"Yes. But what else?"

I looked. I floundered. I shrugged at her.

"I don’t know."

She pointed a finger at the doll’s dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

"See, there? You think she’s looking at you. But really, she’s looking inward."

I had no idea what she meant. I tried turning the doll around, so that it caught the light. Nothing stood out to me.

"You might not realise it, but she has multiple faces," the benefactor said. "A woman can be tricky, like that. And sometimes men too."

Still, I saw nothing. I turned the doll back and forth.

"How does she hide them?" I asked. "Her faces?"

"By lying."

I had wrinkled my nose, disbelieving. I knew all about lying. I used it and I abused it, though I admit now that I hadn’t been very good. Not yet, at least. For example – I had no concept, back then, of lying to oneself, in order to protect the id from harm. I had no concept of wearing a ruse in order to go undercover, or of convincing oneself of an entirely different personality, for the sake of successful espionage.

"Lying?" I asked her, pretending I had never heard the word.

The benefactor smiled a rare smile. Her one good eye twinkled, knowing.

"Yes, boy. The doll works by wrapping itself within a lie – and then another, and another. All to hide a greater lie, underneath."

I turned the doll over between my fingers. "How?"

She reached out her long, bony hand to lift the doll back up from me. She twisted it and pulled off its egg-shaped head. Inside, another head appeared, slightly smaller than the last.

I remember that I had gasped. To me, the edges of her body had seemed so smooth. I’d had no idea there was an opening.

The benefactor didn’t stop there. She pulled off another head, and then another, going deeper and deeper until she reached the centre of the doll. She handed me the pieces, and I collected what I could between my little palms.

She never asked for them back, so one by one, I had slipped them into my trouser pockets. I could feel the other children’s eyes burning into my side, lime-green from jealousy.

"You can’t trust people, Tom." Before me, the benefactor heaved herself back upward, moving with more popping sounds and a dangerously straining wheeze. Her cane wobbled as she leant on it. "Now, let that be a lesson to you."

A few years later, I was offered my place at Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I forgot all about the old Victorian benefactor – and all about the toy she had bequeathed me, and the message she had tried to send. I thought I was better than her. I thought I was better than everyone, and I didn’t need anyone else’s sage advice, thankyou very much.

So, really, it’s my own damn fault that I’m in the situation I’m in.

______

Chapter 12, 'Matryoshka', from WIP Tomione fic 'Kiss Me Before You Go'. The rest of the fic is available to read on AO3:

[sarah-ankh]

To Be Seen

"hell is other people" - jean Paul Sartre.

To be seen is to be judged. To be seen, to be witnessed, to be misunderstood. To have your whole life reduced to a single out of context moment in the mind of another.

To be seen is to be exposed, made vulnerable. To have the whole weight of the vast world beyond your own mind crash down upon you and crush your fragile sense of self.

To be seen is to be changed. To alter yourself so as to change the reflection of you seen in the eyes of another. To hide your truth and don a mask of pleasing acceptability, or lovable outrageousness, but a mask either way. A facsimile. A calculated lie to protect precarious position in a grand social order. To need acceptance, and to betray the self to gain it.

To be seen is to be subjected to the whims of the seer, to torture oneself endlessly with complication and divorce oneself from the simple, peaceful truth of solitude.

Why would anybody want to be seen?

But then, maybe that's just me.

-----------------------------------

This was originally a reply to another post, but I'm posting it again on its own because I'm actually quite proud of it

[paper--moons]

Regressor!Miroku Headcanons

(with cg!Inuyasha)

Despite being a fairly perceptive person, Miroku is largely unaware of his own regression. Although perception does not necessarily equate to introspection of oneself, it still seems like he should have noticed this aspect of himself. This oversight can be chalked up to the fact that he has a lot going on, to put it mildly—forget trying to navigate the typical struggles that come with entering adulthood, no, he has to worry about finding Naraku and destroying him in order to get rid of the Kazaana unless he wants to be swallowed up by it (like his father before him, and his father's father). So it's understandable that he may have overlooked some things (or more accurately, ignored), like the dislocated, heady feeling that sometimes overcame him late at night when he closed himself away in whatever accommodations he had managed to secure for the evening. And even when he did acknowledge it, it was easy enough to brush off as something he was more familiar with and had a word for. Like fatigue. Surely it was only fatigue? The constant traveling, performing exorcisms, and doing palm readings and the like having caught up to him, as well as the ever-mounting pressure of time—running out of time—looming over him. But the swimmy feeling wasn't unpleasant, instead being quite the opposite. It made things easier, and so Miroku didn't have to acknowledge it. He wouldn't. Though this becomes something of an issue when he picks up some traveling companions (or rather, they pick him up) and they take notice of the occasional odd behavior; it's difficult to hide things when they are constantly in close proximity of one another. And while neither Kagome nor Sango push the issue, Inuyasha is a lot more stubborn.

This stubbornness is borne out of the belief that he's right, of course. Inuyasha can't exactly blame the rest of their group for not noticing—Sango and Kagome are only humans, after all, and Shippo is, well...Shippo, so of course he didn't notice either. Although he comes closer than the other two, not exactly noticing the way Miroku seems to almost be indulging himself when playing with the young yokai. And it could easily enough be explained away that he's just good with kids—an explanation that Miroku uses like a crutch when Sango mentions how good he is with Shippo—but there's more to it. Inuyasha can tell there's more to it, because the way Miroku smells changes. In fact, it was that subtle change that first tipped him off to the fact that Miroku regresses; Inuyasha might have bought the ready-made excuse if not for the fact that his yokai senses were telling him otherwise. While it's pretty typical for a human's emotional state to be picked up by a yokai, it's also typical that it fluctuates. It doesn't help that humans can't mask this like yokai can nor can they detect it themselves. But Miroku smells like a baby a lot more often than other people he's been around, and Inuyasha starts to get very protective without realizing it. He pushes, Miroku pushes back, the two butt heads about it, until finally everything bubbles over when Miroku gets sick from using the Kazaana to swallow up the nasty miasma Naraku so often liked to use against them. It's happened before, but this time he drops hard and he isn't even sure why that is. All Miroku knows is that it hurts and he wants to be held. His thoughts are a lot more jumbled than when this usually happens, his head a lot more fuzzy...although that could be attributed to the soft white hair he's crying into as he's held protectively against a familiar chest. And really, it's hard for Miroku to deny this isn't something he needs after clinging to Inuyasha like his life depended on it.

His regression being acknowledged (and assigned a proper term, thanks to Kagome and her modern understanding of what he's been experiencing) does not make things any easier on him. Miroku doesn't want to be so small, doesn't have the time. And it's frustrating when he finds that he suddenly has a caregiver (another term from Kagome, this time for Inuyasha), especially one that often knows just how small he's feeling. They all figure out fairly quickly that Miroku has what Kagome called a wider age range, roughly estimating that he falls anywhere from baby to about twelve. This might have been okay in his opinion (embarrassing, sure, but okay) if he stayed on the twelve end of things. More often than not however, Miroku slips dangerously small given what their escapades on a daily basis usually consist of. A reality that isn't helped by the fact that Inuyasha has decided he's his pup now. The way the half-yokai will essentially just lift him up whenever he feels like with a dismissive What? Fussy pups get scruffed, an' you've been whinin' all morning should not make Miroku feel so cared for and yet...it's nice. Not that he would admit it, though the way he melts into Inuyasha's hold and is soothed by the bouncing is quite telling in and of itself. But Miroku can't even remember a time when he wasn't preparing to face Naraku and get rid of the curse held in his palm. So much of his actual childhood was overshadowed by his father trying to do the very same, with his father's efforts to get rid of the Kazaana so it wouldn't be passed along to his son resulting in a lot of emotional neglect. For Inuyasha to be so perceptive of his emotional state and to make the big decisions for him, if only for a little while, in all honesty felt like a great relief. Not only does it come as a great relief, but the feeling of care and safety the yokai provided starts to push him smaller than he might have otherwise let himself be.

Despite Inuyasha seemingly being a mind reader (a regression reader?), the whole group makes efforts at getting Miroku to regress in a more healthy way, rather than just relying on Inuyasha to decide when he's done enough time being a big boy for the day. Even if he can accurately know those things, Miroku needs to slip occasionally under more positive circumstances rather than because he pushed himself too far again. There's more gentleness shared between them all even if at first their efforts are directed moreso at Miroku. Little things that are actually big things, like checking in to make sure he is feeling okay or helping him with tasks that he's done alone a million times. Though it takes a lot less encouragement to get him to regress than any of them could have expected however, because suddenly it's like the floodgates have been opened as he comes to accept his regression. To be told that it is okay, that he isn't running out of time because they're in this together. To be promised by Inuyasha that he will personally make sure Naraku is defeated and the Kazaana removed. To be reassured that he is allowed to be small. It finally brings him some much needed relief, and with that relief he is able to properly seek the comfort he needs for the first time in his life. Suddenly they're faced with the fact that Miroku middlespaces a lot given that he finally has a support system, and regresses much more regularly whenever they have downtime. Regressing at night certainly keeps him from being so fussy the next morning too, though Inuyasha will still find an excuse to scoop him up so he can nap a little before they stop for lunch.

With an increased positive association with regression comes some new activities. Not that his association with negative emotions was inherently wrong, of course; those negative emotions when he was feeling small only really saw him experiencing one end of the regression spectrum, and with that meant he was only really doing more low-energy or self-soothing activities. But now that his regression has opened up to other emotions, it turns out Miroku is a very high energy kid! Sort of like he hasn't gotten to play outside in a really really long time because it was raining, and so he has a ton of pent up energy—so much so that it's difficult for anyone to keep up with him, with Inuyasha being the exception. Miroku bounces from one game to the next with reckless abandon, absolutely delighting in the fact that he's free to play and has someone playing with him. However it becomes clear to Inuyasha that Miroku is missing something. Something that was a part of even his own childhood experience: toys, and by extension, comfort items. Inuyasha can recall cherishing the few toys he had as a child and with that thought in mind, sets out on a little excursion to find a nearby village where he might be able to secure a few things. It's only a day trip, though Miroku gets restless back at their camp. But the wait is worth it when Inuyasha returns and with a smug grin spreads out what he managed to scrounge up: a simple ball, a spinning top, and a soft blanket. He starts to say he wants to try and get Miroku a few other things, but doesn't get to finish before the boy is practically tackling him in a hug. His haul might have been small, but Miroku is impressed nonetheless and almost immediately gravitates towards the blanket despite it not being naptime.

Some of Inuyasha's caregiving habits don't always make sense to Miroku, no matter if he's big or small—there are just some things that have to be written off as yokai instincts. Specifically as dog yokai instincts. Like getting scruffed; he has grown more than accustomed to getting picked up at the drop of a hat. He's in trouble? Scruffed. He's getting a little too rambunctious? Also scruffed. Then there's the fact that Inuyasha will quite literally growl at people that he doesn't trust getting too close to the baby. Somewhat embarrassing as Miroku is (mostly) big whenever that happens, but he gets it. What he doesn't get though is the fact that he gets sat down and groomed at the end of the day. It doesn't matter if he's clean or dirty, doesn't matter how recently he's had a bath or brushed his hair, he's getting tugged down into Inuyasha's lap. And while he doesn't fully understand why it's something he (seemingly) has to have done every day, Miroku doesn't find it uncomfortable, nor is it fully unwanted either. Quite the opposite, in fact! The claws finger-combing his hair and lightly scratching at his scalp feel so nice, not to mention that the act itself is so attentive. It's not something Miroku would have ever guessed Inuyasha would do for him, nor would he have guessed just how easily it lulls him to sleep. (And, should he think about it, he might come to realize that perhaps that's exactly why Inuyasha does it.)

While Miroku tries to stay big on nights with a full moon after learning about Inuyasha's secret, he can't always manage it. It's a scary thing! Even if he were to keep himself from regressing, he would be worried sick despite the fact that Sango and Kagome are helping keep watch too—as it stands, it is that anxiety that something might happen while Inuyasha is so vulnerable that ultimately causes him to slip. However, this does not stop him from helping to protect him. Or trying to, at least in his own way. Baby Miroku is a little on the clingy side, and figures that if the girls are watching their camp's perimeter then he is going to be the one to keep a close eye on Inuyasha. Naturally this "protection" takes the form of cuddling up to him for the entire night so they can both get some rest. It's what Inuyasha does for him when he's feeling icky, and as far as Miroku understands when he's small like this, his cg feels very icky yucky when the moon is full. It's very much the manifestation of that little kid mentality that believes everyone should get as much help and the same kind of help as they do! And so he occupies a soft toddlerspace as he tucks Inuyasha in with his blanket before gently petting over the jet black locks that only a few hours ago were as silver as the moonlight now bathing them. Miroku wastes no time moving to cling to him, with tiny murmurs of s'okay being whispered while he settles in beside him. For his part, Inuyasha is quite touched by this—the emotional response of course being blamed on his temporary, fully human state—and finds himself hugging onto Miroku equally as tightly as he drifts off to sleep. They won't discuss it the next morning, or ever, because the gesture itself is more than enough.

[waywardpensman]

My magic system for my novel

Its a bit of a read so enjoy lmao

and I do apologise for being quiet for ages lol

Magic System for Aetheria: The Dual Weave

In the world of Aetheria, magic flows from two primary forces: The Celestial Light and The Abyssal Shadow. These two powers, which were once united in a single, harmonious source of magic, were violently split during the event known as the Sundering. Since then, mages of Aetheria and the Shadowlands have been taught to wield only one side of this divided magic, but some, like Kael Rynn, seek to understand both.

The core of this magic system revolves around The Dual Weave: the intricate relationship between light and shadow magic, where mastery lies in the understanding that neither is inherently good nor evil, but both are necessary to maintain the balance of the world.

Foundations of Magic:

Essence: Magic in Aetheria is drawn from the Essence of the World, a primal force that pervades all living things and the environment itself. This essence is divided into two types:

Celestial Essence (Light) – Associated with purity, order, protection, and life.

Abyssal Essence (Shadow) – Associated with transformation, chaos, secrecy, and decay.

Conduits: All magic users, called Weavers, channel magic through conduits—physical or mental focal points that allow them to access and manipulate the Essence. These can be innate, such as the user's body, or external, like staves, crystals, or enchanted objects.

Weaves: Magic is cast by forming Weaves, which are complex patterns of light or shadow essence. Each type of magic requires different weaves, from simple spells like basic shielding or energy projection to complex rituals that bend reality.

Schools of Magic:

Celestial Weaving Celestial Magic, the power of the Light, is commonly practiced in Aetheria. It draws upon the structured, radiant force of the Celestial Essence, which grants users powers of protection, healing, and enlightenment. The Celestial Weavers believe that their magic is tied to righteousness and clarity of purpose.

Illumination: Creating radiant light, banishing shadows, and revealing hidden truths.

Wardcraft: Defensive spells that form shields, barriers, and protections. These can be either personal or for protecting large areas.

Restoration: Healing the wounded, purifying disease, and restoring the vitality of living beings.

Radiant Command: Control over natural elements through the manipulation of light, such as summoning fire, blinding enemies, or influencing weather.

Abyssal Weaving Abyssal Magic, practiced in the Shadowlands, draws from the Abyssal Essence. It is less understood by the people of Aetheria and is often feared, as it deals with powers of change, concealment, and entropy. Abyssal Weavers can manipulate darkness, hide their presence, or accelerate natural decay.

Veilcasting: The power to manipulate shadows and conceal oneself or others. Advanced weavers can create illusions or become completely invisible in darkness.

Entropy: The acceleration of natural decay or degradation. This can be used to break down physical structures or sap the life force from enemies.

Transmutation: Abyssal Weavers can change the shape and nature of objects or beings, transforming matter into different states.

Soulbinding: The manipulation of life energy, which can be used to influence minds, raise the dead, or channel the power of fallen spirits.

Dual Weaving:

The rarest and most powerful form of magic is Dual Weaving, which combines both Celestial and Abyssal forces into a single weave. Few can perform this, as it requires deep understanding and perfect balance between the two forces. Dual Weavers have access to abilities that transcend both light and shadow, but practicing this magic is forbidden in Aetheria due to its association with heresy.

Equilibrium Weaving: The balance of light and shadow magic allows a Dual Weaver to influence both order and chaos. This type of magic can restore balance to imbalanced areas, neutralize other spells, or bind creatures of light and shadow alike.

Temporal Magic: Dual Weaving can also manipulate time in small ways—slowing it, speeding it up, or creating brief moments of stasis by weaving both forces together.

Reality Shifting: Advanced Dual Weavers can alter the fundamental nature of space, bending reality or creating small pocket dimensions where both light and shadow coexist harmoniously.

Anima Fusion: Dual Weavers can merge life forces from both light and shadow, creating hybrid creatures or fusing themselves with elemental beings for a temporary boost in power.

Laws of Magic:

The Law of Harmony: Light and shadow must always remain in balance. If a Weaver draws too heavily on one force without respecting the other, they risk losing control of the magic. Overuse of Celestial Essence can lead to blindness (both literal and metaphorical), an inability to see the subtleties of reality, while overuse of Abyssal Essence can cause madness, as the mind is consumed by the chaos of shadow.

The Sundering Limit: The Sundering created an artificial divide in magic, which has made accessing both forces difficult. Most weavers can only wield one type of Essence. However, with special training or forbidden rituals, a rare few can overcome this limit and access both.

Essence Decay: Overuse of magic leads to Essence Decay, a slow degradation of the Weaver’s ability to harness magic. Those who rely too much on their powers, especially if they disrupt the balance of light and shadow, can lose their connection to magic entirely. Celestial magic overuse leads to physical frailty, while Abyssal overuse drains the soul and shortens the lifespan.

Foci: Certain places or objects are naturally attuned to one type of Essence. For instance, in areas rich with Celestial Essence, light magic is easier to cast, while Abyssal magic is weaker. Conversely, the deep forests of the Shadowlands are saturated with Abyssal Essence, amplifying shadow magic and weakening light-based weaves.

Magical Artifacts and Relics:

The Orb of Sundering: A legendary relic said to hold the combined power of both light and shadow, created during the event of the Sundering. It is rumored that whoever masters the orb can restore the world to its pre-Sundering state, merging light and shadow back into one harmonious force.

Celestial Crystals: Glowing, radiant crystals used by Aetherian mages to amplify their connection to the Celestial Essence. They are often embedded in staves or worn as amulets to boost power.

Obsidian Sigils: Dark, jagged stones infused with Abyssal Essence, carried by Weavers of the Shadowlands. These sigils allow their wielders to enhance shadow spells, control creatures of darkness, or summon shades from the Abyss.

Final Thoughts:

In this world of divided magic, conflict arises not just between the forces of light and shadow, but within individuals who seek to find harmony between the two. Those who practice Dual Weaving, like Kael Rynn, must navigate the dangerous path between these opposing forces, risking not only their lives but the very nature of magic itself. As Kael uncovers the truth about the Sundering, he begins to understand that restoring balance between light and shadow might be the only way to prevent the world from falling into chaos again.

[introverted-imagineer]

Only Fools Build Bridges

Part 13

Warnings: Death, Violence, Battle, Smutty themes

'RUN SAXON’

It was as if time stopped. Fresh, sticky, thick red blood coated the soles of my feet, and for the first time in a while, it wasn’t my blood. The Queen stood straight-faced, her thick cloak and demeanor hiding the fact that she was truly taking much shallower, quicker breaths than she led on. The newly crowned ‘King Coward’ had a look to kill. Godwin stood brazenly, but inside, his stomach was probably churning as he seemed to gulp down whatever contents had just arisen from his throat. The walls were not only collapsing around England but around its leaders themselves. My stature was limp, my body aching, my head spinning, only able to hear the sound of my heart beating and the raging ringing that pierced my eardrums. But the fact remained the same, I had to run. 

The world around me flooded back to an astounding relativity of time. The sound of clanging metals, screeching against one another as its handlers fought for dominance against one another. The barbarous grunts of Vikings echoed across the bridge as they simultaneously protruded a threatening thump as they smashed weapon to shield. The desperate gasp of men around me as they slowly perspired, desperately gasping for a miracle as arrows were plunged deep into their flesh. Godwin, Queen Emma and King Edmund almost snapping their own necks at the speed which they directed their gaze from the horrors ahead, instead, to me. It’s amazing, how the human body can be so defiled, bruised, and battered in ways that were nothing short of excruciating, but with enough adrenaline, and a little hope, all that anguish could be cast aside in an instant. 

The crisp cool air swept against my salved legs, a gentle sting piercing each bit of open flesh as I turned my back to the battle unravelling in-front of me, facing the wind head on, it took all the willpower I had left to move one foot in front of the other. I could hear footsteps scuttling behind me as I slipped down the stone stairwell, hissing at the feeling of gravel grating my already frail skin. Landing on my bottom, I gripped the walls beside me in an attempt to gather the strength to pull my body from the ground. In a panic, I whipped my head around to find the boy King right behind me, sword in hand. This was definitely it. This was the end, death had been a constant companion these past few months, but now he was coming to claim me. Involuntarily, I swiped my palms from the stone wall, bringing them around my torso to comfort myself from my inevitable end. The rough thrust of a sword came crashing down on my shoulder, but instead of entering my flesh, it only collided on the surface. ‘MOVE’ King Edmund screamed as my weight naturally thrust in the direction which the hilt of his sword had pushed me. The King ran forward, continuing down the stairs as men trailed on his lead, heading toward the battle. 

‘Y/N’ Godwin’s voice, exasperated yet sullen, piercingly seethed from the upstairs turret. But as men continued to obediently follow their King to the Viking front, his aggravated cries were drowned out by the sound of footsteps of men flailing down the stairs. I thrust my weight forward, crawling on all fours, busting my knees against the ground with only the thin cloth of my skirt, which was already ripped in places, providing any protection. I rounded the stairs, crawling along the thin inner baileys of the castle, crawling towards the next closest tower to hide within the interiors of the castle. As I crawled toward the side castle doors, stones began to pound the ground next to me. I could hear Godwin grunting as he desperately tried to stop my movements. It was necessary for a strong warrior to harbour skills in armed combat, harness every power within oneself to control ones fine motor skills in order to perfect the gruesome job of killing. If you couldn’t harness all that, then like Godwin, you were placed in advisory roles. The wooden door was slightly ajar as the wind causes it to bang against the stone walls. Ajar, closed, ajar closed. As I got closer, I gently lifted my sore arm, my shoulder piercing and throbbing, desperately warning me against such action. The door slightly ajar, as it went to bang shut against its frame, instead it collided with the palm of my hand, allowing me to crawl inside and slam the door behind me. The pelting of stones continuing to bolt against the outside of the door. 

While I was familiar with the main grounds of the castle, the unfamiliarity of the small room around me caught me by surprise. It was barren, lifeless, dusty. But the throne that sat in the centre of the room as well as the half filled wine decanter showed evidence that this room was very much still occupied. 

I took a moment to breath. The adrenaline running through my body confirmed my suspicion, that somehow, I was still very much alive. The ringing in my eardrums began to ascend. Clutching the armrest of the chair next to me, using my good arm, I managed to pull my frail body from the ground. The pain and stinging from my legs was now concentrated in my shoulder where the hilt smash of a sword had previously occurred. Limply trudging across the room to the small table that sat behind the throne, I picked up the wine decanter, not bothering to use the goblets, I chugged every last drop of the odorous, likely expensive contents. Leaning my bodyweight on the table, the sound of high-pitched screams echoed from down the corridor. I turned to the back of the room, trudging aimlessly toward the thick velvet red curtains that lay by the stain glass window that allowed a clouded sunlight to only just lighten the room. The doors burst open as the sound of crying women entered the room, followed by the sound of sturdy cobbled shoes striding against the wooden floor. I hitched my breath in my throat as the Footsteps strode toward the curtain, only to have them stop as someone plonked themselves on the throne. ‘Let us pray’ Queen Emma’s soft, yet sturdy voice commanded across the small room. The sound of women's voices shakily begun to mutter prayers to themselves. Some reciting ones from the bible, others praying for mercy. 

Behind the curtain, through a small crack of broken glass, I put my eye up to the window, peeping through the little hole to see what horrors had taken place outside. Ships had almost magically appeared within the harbour, the yelling of soldiers and Vikings as they bloodthirstily swung their weapons at one another. But there was an eerie undetectable sound. An insatiably loud creaking. 

Without any warning, the bridge between the mainland and the main gate of the castle came crashing down beneath. The women inside screamed at the sound of the loud bang, piercing their senses, however I stared in disbelief. 

Prayers became more speedily recited, I could almost hear the Queens fingernails digging into the wooden armrests of the throne which she sat. It seemed like hours we sat there, myself still safely concealed behind the velvet curtain. A grey swept cloudy sky turned to nightfall. 

The sound of footsteps echoed from outside the room, thunderous, prosperous, confident. The interior doors to the room flung open as that familiar barbarian language filled the room. Women screamed, myself and Emma staying still. ‘YOU HAVE FOUND THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND. I DEMAND TO SEE CANUTE’ she announced as she fiercely stood from her seat. ‘Would you settle for me?’ An almost cheeky voice exclaimed. ‘Olaf’ was all she replied before the footsteps trudged forward, escorting the Queen and the women from the room. Most of the Vikings left, but a few stayed. 

Hours it seemed passed as the Vikings sat on the ground, relishing in the moment of relaxation. Even the fiercest needed a break. I stood there, behind that velvet curtain, my body leaning against the stone wall behind me, threatening to give out as my already weak legs became sorer and sorer.  I still couldn’t understand the language perfectly, but I could pick up a few words from the conversation around me. ‘Defeat’ ‘Captured’ ‘King Coward…’. The shallow discussions were suddenly interrupted by the doors flying open, and Canute’s all too familiar voice protruding across the room. ‘Out’ he commanded. The men instantly reacted, getting up from their spots of the ground and exiting the room. As the last pair of footsteps left the room, the King muttered something to the person, the word ‘Mathilda’ could be heard at the end of his sentence, followed by a brotherly slap on the back, which Vikings so often greeted one another with. Canute strode towards the centre of the room, sitting upon the same throne which had Queen Emma on it hours ago. Another set of heavy footsteps wearily followed the King into the room. ‘Come Harald’ the King commanded. My breath hitched in my throat at the sound of his name. 

The doors closed gently as the two men conversed. While I couldn’t understand entirely, the tone of the men's voices indicated the gravity and seriousness of the conversation unfolding. The discussion and vocabulary was complex, nothing like I’d heard before. But only one sentence unfolded that I could understand, it came from Canute addressing Harald. ‘What if I could make you King of Norway?’ The discussion turned to arguing as the pair conversed with one another intently. Harald’s sudden silence indicated that he wasn’t expecting to hear whatever Canute had told him, nor did he likely want to hear it. Canute, satisfied with the outcome of the conversation rose from the throne and strode toward the door to leave. But his footsteps stopped, he let out a chuckle, but then he spoke in a language I could understand. ‘You can come out now…Saxon’. The doors slammed shut as the King retreated from the room. Stood still, still in shock, my consciousness was brought back by that familiar voice. Confronting, deep, yet somehow soothing. ‘Saxon?’ He said. Gently I pulled the curtain to the side slowly, revealing my presence after hours of standing. He was covered in blood, his under-eyes seemed dark, yet his face shone in the moonlight that cast upon his face. Without thought, I limped towards his tall frame, arms reaching out for him. His tall statue bent down as he held his arms out to catch my weak frame. My chest collided with his rock hard armour, and my feet were swept from the ground as I nuzzled my face into his neck. His strong arm wrapped around my waist as his other arm reached up, and his large hand rested on the back of my head, stroking my hair. He smelled of sweat, blood, seawater and mud. I didn’t care though, and as much as I wanted to dismiss the feelings, his embrace brought comfort to me. At that moment, I felt safe.

Our stomachs pressed against one another, my breasts pressed tightly against his, his beard felt rugged against the side of my face. Something about it felt comfortable, yet nerve wracking. As our chests rose and fell against one another, his arm seemed to get tighter around my waist as we stayed in the tight embrace. I could feel the hairs on his body stand to attention as my hot breath danced on the skin of his neck. I didn’t want to pull away, and it didn’t seem like he wanted to either. Wetting my lips with my tongue, I accidentally licked his neck, a slight moan emitting from his mouth as his body seemed to stiffen. ‘I’m sorry’ I choked out, before the tears ran involuntarily from my eyes. ‘Shhh Shh Shh’ he comforted, stroking my hair with more vigour. I almost gasped as his weight shifted, and my feet returned to the floor. I couldn’t look at him, so I kept my eyes cast down to the ground. His warm hands suddenly cupped my face, I wanted to push them away, but I couldn’t. He simply leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. I leaned my forehead right into his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. I could feel his arms gently reach around his back, unwrapping my limp wrists from his torso. ‘Go prepare a room Saxon’ he whispered before he trudged away from the room without as much as a glance, leaving me standing there. 

What the fuck.

[mbti-notes]

hi I'm confused about boundaries. Sometimes I'm assertive to say NO to people but I don't know maybe I'm just putting up a wall and killing the relationship? How can I tell the difference between walls and boundaries? TIA

In the most simple terms, it's a matter of healthy (boundaries) vs unproductive (walls). Yes, both are intended as protection, but they ultimately lead you in different directions. Some key points:

1) Emotional Motivation: When someone violates your personal boundary, it's natural to feel offended or angry at first. But if the anger goes unprocessed and unchecked, it makes your decision-making very reactive. You're likely to retaliate, harbor resentment, or emotionally "block out" the person with a psychological wall, which damages the relationship.

In contrast, an emotionally intelligent person knows how to process negative emotions, so they don't just react to anger but, rather, see it as a sign that there is something out of balance in the relationship. Digging deeper below the initial anger, one finds empathy for oneself and the need to be treated fairly. The empathy is then leveraged into setting better boundaries to ensure fairness in the relationship.

Therefore, ask yourself: Am I being driven by unconscious, unprocessed, and/or unresolved negative emotions? (wall) Or, am I acting consciously, out of empathy and compassion, to address a legitimate need for a fairer relationship? (boundary)

2) Effect on Self-Concept: When you build a wall, you are essentially distancing yourself from others by hiding behind it. Walls are a common defense mechanism because they're easy, they feel safe, and they seem like the least harmful option overall (when compared to being overtly mean or destructive). But these positive effects are illusory.

A wall feels easy only because you're ignoring the negative social consequences. Actually, it signals to others that you're too preoccupied with yourself to care about them, which means you make yourself into an uncooperative and thus emotionally unavailable friend/partner. A wall feels safe only because you're sweeping the problem under the rug. Actually, it doesn't resolve the issue of you being unable to advocate well for yourself and your needs. A wall seems least harmful because you're overlooking the harm being done to yourself. Actually, by locking yourself away, you are essentially making yourself into a non-entity in the relationship, which signals to people that your needs don't have to matter to them.

Therefore, ask yourself: Am I making myself smaller, less important, and more invisible to others? (wall) Or, am I making myself into an equal member of the relationship and requesting the care and respect I also deserve? (boundary)

3) Effect on the Relationship: There is no meaningful relationship without conflict. Conflict occurs whenever two people don't see eye-to-eye and it affects their ability to move forward together. Many people see conflict as a "problem" and fear getting caught up in it, so they don't know how to use it to their advantage. Some people build walls as a way to avoid confrontation and conflict.

For emotionally intelligent people, conflict is viewed as an opportunity to know each other better and negotiate better terms for the relationship. Over time, people who know how to "fight" intelligently are rewarded with a stronger and closer bond. In short, an important aspect of setting healthy boundaries is knowing how to communicate productively about needs and goals, in order to reach agreement about how to move forward on them.

Therefore, ask yourself: Am I cutting off further communication and leaving my needs unmet and their needs unacknowledged, thus making it more difficult to build a long-term relationship? (wall) Or, am I creating an opportunity to bring each person's needs into focus so that we can collaborate and get them fulfilled appropriately, thus doing the necessary work to make the relationship better over time? (boundary)

Note that this point is aimed at people who have trouble setting boundaries in normal relationships that have good potential to be healthy, loving, and fulfilling. If you're dealing with someone exhibiting many dark personality traits, heed the red flags. There are some people you can't negotiate with because they can't see you, don't respect you, and/or aren't capable of caring well for you. In such cases, the focus shouldn't be on relationship building but on avoiding/averting harm through setting and enforcing strict boundaries.

To sum up the qualities of a "wall" VS a "boundary":

motivated by: negative emotions VS empathy and fairness

feels like making yourself: smaller VS equal

you appear to others: more distant VS more visible

communication: gets cut off VS opens up collaboration

emotional needs: remain unfulfilled VS brought into focus

relationships become: more difficult VS more robust

Of course, real-life situations are not always so clear-cut. Boundary setting is a skill that gets better with practice. Remember that there's no perfect way to socialize. People can be unpredictable, so the best you can do is be adaptable, learn from mistakes, and keep trying to get better at it. When you realize that you've built a wall instead of set a boundary, it's a good opportunity to learn more about what triggered you to build it and practice taking it down.

Walls are an understandable response to feeling violated but it's important to reflect upon what they actually achieve for you. If wall-building feels like an "instinct" when you get emotionally triggered, it would be good to learn more about your emotional triggers, why they exist, and what past experience the wall is meant to protect you from. Bring that unconscious activity into consciousness. Then, reflect on whether it's still necessary to use such a primitive defense mechanism today.

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

The King of Clubs and Swords

⚔️ All Previous Parts Here ⚔️

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO (knots, slick, mpreg), Viking/god Col, fae Dom, plot heavy chapter, fluff, PTSD, fear, sadness, strong implications of miscarriage (Dom's), mentions of murder (sort of planning), threats, MF hate (obviously), mentions of forced poisoning (Tom), changing oneself (Tom), fears of not being good enough, panic/pain attack (Col), punching a table, baby making everything better, again a surprising amount of fluff for all the warnings ☠️ rating: mature ☠️ shared ideas by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

With their men away gathering food from the kitchen and Inga and Tavis playing with Ciarán and his toys as if they were searching for something they'd never be able to have with Modig- Dom felt comfortable enough to ask his kin a few gentle questions. Well… the questions were probing but he'd attempt to be careful about asking. He was sure he could be a courteous queen. Careful. Polite. "If ya'd told me I would 'ave run away wiv ya sooner Tom. Gods… Wha'd 'ey give you?" So… maybe he couldn't be. Not when it came to his parents. How dare they. He knew they were terrible to him but he could endure that, if he'd known… "I would 'ave kept you safe." The last was almost a whimper but he was trying to be strong for his friend.

Tom huffed, pulling his hair over one shoulder. He was wildly uncomfortable talking about himself with his prince, the boy was good at accidentally focusing on himself and it worked for them. It always had. But since meeting Kol the boy had opened up and started trying to actually get others to talk. How strange. "It was my job to keep you safe. Not the other way around. Just because…" He swallowed hard and tried not to grumble. His gaze had to move away from Dom or he wouldn't be able to speak. The siren was always too bloody earnest and his eyes far too intent and pup-like. Instead he watched the baby playing and remembered when they were that size. He was raised right along with his prince, almost since day one. His parents had just lied too well about his body he supposed.

"Just because they were trying to protect how special you were doesn't make this your fault. I never wanted to be… this, so when they offered me something to stop it…" He took another deep breath, he was comforted by the boy of course but it was still difficult. He'd only been able to tell Mod by thought alone. "You're stronger emotionally. I knew you could handle it. I couldn't. I saw how they treated you- how everyone treated you. I didn't wish to be… sold like that even though I already had been to your family. I didn't want to be-"

"So much meat? Yeah not me favorite fing." Dom knew he was just trying to be careful but he understood the reasoning behind what Tom was saying. He did get it. He had been raised like a prized cow for the slaughter. Keep it plump but not too, keep it bathed and pretty, wait until it's ripe and ready and-

"They demanded I take a tincture that would hide my heats and stop my um… production." Tom blushed at the thought. He hadn't felt slick until he was with Modig. They stopped his first heat before it even hinted at beginning and even after running he spent far too much time in his second skin for anything to happen. "I was following orders and I- I didn't think I could handle it. It hurt sure, made me ill at times but it left me able to care for you. While we traveled I never even thought about it until… well when you left I met Mush and the first time I slipped my skin I felt odd." His voice went soft and dreamy, a little smile curled his lips as he pet softly over his belly absentmindedly. After a moment he cleared his throat and shook himself. Dom loved seeing him lost in thought like that. "I still don't think everything works properly… I worry. We have to use-" He flushed so pink that his prince giggled.

"'Elp?" He offered teasingly. "No shame in it, when I want to play wiv Kol a bit I use-"

"Oh gods! I don't want to know!" Tom's voice went high and they laughed together, the boy always knew how to cheer him up. "But yes. I… it's all a bit off. I worry it's not hospitable for a babe."

"Nah. 'Ospitable? Jus' fhrow a few pillows around and shove a nice rug up 'ere. You'll be fine." Dom couldn't help teasing him, the man just talked so properly sometimes. He kept thinking he'd loosen up now that they were around Viking's all the time but no, Tom was just Tom and he loved him to bits. "I know wha' it's like to be scared. I know wha' tha' fear is. I can't imagine losing 'em but… I believe it's meant to be and nuffin will 'urt tha'." More than anything he believed that Tom deserved to be happy and he refused to let fate take this from him. He'd fight the bitch if he had to.

"I'm scared Damhnaic. I've… I've never loved anything so much." The selkie whimpered so softly he barely heard it but his hand found Tom's and squeezed. "I didn't think I could wish to protect anything more than you… I don't know what I'll do if I lose-" He paused, his jaw clamping shut and flexing. "Oh gods! I wasn't thinking. I- I'm so sorry!"

"Wha'? For loving ya babe more 'an me? I'd bloody 'ope so." He huffed back, grinning wide. He knew what Tom was apologizing for though and try as he might he couldn't fight back the tears that welled his eyes. He'd been doing so well ignoring the elephant in the room and he kept trying. They were talking about happy things and they didn't know… they didn't. But they knew she tried.

"You've always been stronger than me. You've always been able to go on and rise above. I was trained to keep you safe but you… you keep me safe in so many ways. Gods I couldn't do this without you." Tom sniffled and made a face at himself as if he were so annoyed by his own emotions.

"Lucky we doing it togever 'en aye? Don't worry, the crying fing gets better when 'ey out." He lied smoothly and Tom chuckled. There was a whole host of things they weren't saying but at least they were talking.

☠️⚔️☠️

"You happy brother? You still look a bit shaken up." Kol'son tried to tease his best friend as they put together a feast of snacks. It was hard to get Dom to eat an actual meal but put different small things in front of him and he'd eat enough it added up. He didn't have to understand it, as long as he was taking care of his mate he was happy.

"Um… Yeah. I'm scared shitless though. They hurt him Kol, bad. I'm scared this will be traumatic for him and I don't… I don't want that. I figured eventually we'd try with like… magic or something, fuck if I know. But he doesn't even call me his lover. Plus you know how… how messy my mind is. How can I be a dad? I thought I was broken." Mod had never had trouble speaking his mind or from the heart. It was something the Viking had always admired and now his mate was the same. It was funny in a way, he knew he and Tom only butted heads so much because they were so similar. He and his cousin had found mate's that matched each other.

"I think we've seen a really broken man now but he still cares for those around him and can feel love. I don't think being broken means you can't be happy. I never thought you were completely broken anyway brother, maybe just a little… bent." He teased and his kin tossed a slice of meat at his face. They couldn't devolve into a food fight, their omegas and Inga would kill them for the waste.

"I'm perfectly shaped bitch, just ask Tom." Mod joked back, not really wanting to think too deeply about his father yet. He wanted to focus on the happy stuff and leave the rest for a good tight cuddle and emotional talk with his… love later. He still wasn't quite sure what to call him. "Are you good though?" He asked softly. He knew it was almost impossible to get the chief to open up but sometimes the god would talk to him if something was really weighing on him. Just because they had partners didn't mean they couldn't stay bonded as close as they'd always been.

"What? Yeah, why? We're focused on you here. Ya know, dad back from the dead and baby on the way?" The leader huffed, frustrated that the halfling was so soft hearted he wouldn't let the focus linger long.

"And? You just found out the bitch who bad touched you, took your children, and tried to kill your mate just to get in your pants. I'd be pissed." Mod hadn't been looking across the table at his friend when he made the statement but a knife clattered to the floor after the words were out of his mouth. The Viking gasped softly and Mod's gaze snapped up to take in the lost look on Kol's face. His lips seemed somehow thinner and they quivered as if he were trying not to cry. He knew Tom would chide him for not being more careful of his words but he didn't normally censor himself with his kin. "Shit. I'm sorry. Breathe. Hey, maybe I'm wrong? Kol'son breathe okay?" He was scared to move around the table and hug the man, sometimes it helped and sometimes it drove his sadness to anger.

Kol took a breath but before he could stop himself his fist was smashing into the table. Thankfully he held back his true strength or it would have splintered. As it was, the thing creaked and shook. "I'm breathing. I'm… I want her dead. She took- she-" He couldn't finish his sentence. How was he supposed to? His soul ached with the thoughts that weighed so heavy on his mind. They tried every heat but they just thought they were spotty. They came in every few months instead of regularly like before Cia. And Ciarán- gods someone may have been poisoning him. He'd never been so glad to make his child half god. They refused to give the boy the binding tattoos like he had been given. Cia would grow into himself exactly as he was supposed to and because of the wolf inside him he was safe from that… that…

Mod rushed around the table to hug his best friend to his chest. He could feel the scream before it came and he tried to hide Kol's pain against his skin. He didn't want their pregnant mates worrying and rushing in. He knew Kol wouldn't want Dom seeing him like that. If there were words he couldn't make them out, his cousin just needed a moment to break and he completely understood. He was just glad he could help. "We'll end her. I swear it Kol'son. You'll have your vengeance. Shit I'll bleed her dry myself and make a necklace of her blood you can always look at to remember you won." He vowed but the man just fell to his knees and cried against him.

Kol never thought the day would come that vengeance didn't feel like enough. No matter what they did to her it wouldn't bring back anything they lost. "Hey, you have some on the way right? She didn't win and she won't. We'll get her. I'm just sorry I didn't hear it from her. I could have stopped her. Some people are just fuzzy to me. I think Harald used my father to protect his family from magic." Mod felt himself almost growling and he tried to shake it off. He was never really that kind of man. He didn't think at least.

☠️⚔️☠️

Eventually they calmed enough to part and Kol splashed his face from the bucket of drinking water before they got the food together and took it back to their mates. The boys were speaking in hushed tones and giggling occasionally and it eased the pain in both their chests. Kol was more grateful for his closest kin than he knew how to explain, he needed to be strong for Dom. Not fall to pieces. "Here ya go ástin min, sorry it took us a bit." He tried to smooth out his voice but he knew he probably made it gravel when he screamed.

The siren worried the second their eyes met. Kol's were red and his skin looked paler than usual but he was sure he and Tom matched. It seemed as if both pairs had opened up more than they'd meant to and he was thankful they all had each other. While Kol was getting everything arranged for him he met Mod's gaze and arched a brow. 'He's… sensitive. Megna.' That soft voice floated through his mind and he swallowed hard. They thought they'd heard a scream but they weren't sure.

"Daidí, me arse 'urts. Be me cushion?" He asked with a gentle smile and a wiggle of his aching hips.

Kol grinned back but it felt thin and dead. Of course he would keep his mate comfortable but first… Dom gasped when his chair was pulled back and the Viking dropped to his knees so hard he swore he heard something crack. He blushed when his love opened the front of his tunic and he was thankful for the skirt around his waist but when Kol pressed his cheek against his swell and sniffled Dom almost whined. Oh gods. It always broke him when his wolf was emotional. "'Ey okay daidí. We okay." He soothed, petting over the man's hair but Kol just needed a little while to snuggle. Reorient himself.

Before long he pulled back and stood to fix the seat and pick Dom up as if he weighed nothing. Thankfully the other couple didn't call attention to them. They understood. They saw him as a stronger leader when he wasn't so shamed by emotions. The siren curled close as Kol'son took a seat and hand fed his wife. He made sure to taste everything first though. Just in case.

They were so wrapped up in themselves they didn't realize Inga and Tavis joined them until she started to talk. "I need you to find who messed with my food boys. I'm not happy. Do you think it was the food? Or… water? Gods just bring her to me. I'll deal with her." They were used to her getting fired up but Tavis soothed her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her cheek that made her giggle. "Stop it you, I'm trying to be angry." She huffed, feeding Cia a piece of honeyed bread where he sat frog legged on the table between them all.

"Someone so beautiful shouldn't have to feel such rage. I wish to make life for you as perfect as you are." The fairy prince whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Kol'son had a bite of bread halfway to his lover's lips when they all heard him flirt and he froze that way, they were all blushing softly. "I guess I need to step up my game." He huffed and Dom laughed but he loved to see Inga so happy.

"You really do. Tavis might teach us we deserve better. Don't ya fink Tom?" He joked back.

"Mmm, at least Mush tries. Maybe in a few hundred years he'll be that smooth." The selkie purred and both their men huffed softly.

"I suppose I could teach you both but it's just honesty. You speak from the heart and they swoon." They could tell he was still nervous but he seemed to be growing more comfortable and it helped the tension overall. One thing at a time. That's all they could handle.

"I fink me alpha jus' speaks from the cock." Dom hummed before curling his lips around his lover's fingers to take the bite he was offering.

"You love it." The Viking growled back and he had to admit he did. But he wouldn't say it aloud.

"He's young yet, give him time. Modig though, I would hope my child would take after me." He was hesitant to tease the halfling but they all seemed to needle each other. He hoped it would make them like him more. Accept him.

"Hey, I'm as romantic as they come. This bastard won't let me be sweet. He gags if I try to even compliment how pretty his eyes are. Or his lips. Or-" Before Mod could finish his sentence Tom was faux gagging and Kol'son joined in with him. "You see what I put up with." He huffed and his parents laughed.

"He will soften. Just you wait and see. I can't imagine that first moment of holding your babe in your arms and seeing… seeing their beauty. Even the toughest of men crumble."

To break up the sadness and attempt to keep the levity flowing Dom had to add- "Aye, he's right. Kol cried like a bitch when he 'eld Cia."

The baby looked up at his name and giggled. Of course he had no idea what exactly they were talking about or how much pain was just underneath the surface for them all but that's what made his innocence so helpful. Perfect. Beautiful. His cherub cheeks were round as apples when he grinned and showed off his little fangs. He had two fistfuls of food, his palms sticky with honey, but he crawled across the table to sweetly feed his mother. He always tried to copy Kol. "Da sad?"

"No baby, daidí was very 'appy. We talking about when you was born." Dom cooed between sticky bites of bread. He was sure it was covered in a bit of dirt but it wouldn't be the first time that day he ate some.

"I was baby?" He asked. They'd been trying to explain about his little siblings. How they grew inside Dom and would be little babes when they came out.

"You're still baby to me but yes, you were very small. You fit in daidí's palm! Even 'ough I 'ated when he did tha'." He grumbled back.

"You'll be thankful I can when you're holding one and I'm double fist-" The Viking stopped short and cleared his throat, that definitely wasn't the right term. "When I've got one in each hand."

"Don't you mean Dom will have t-" Inga elbowed her lost love before he could finish the word 'two'. They'd all seen how many marks he left over the queen's belly, they didn't need to overwhelm anyone right now. "Right yes. What is double fisting? It made sense to me." And as his family started laughing around him and attempting to explain with words that were safe around the little chief, Tavis sat back and wondered if his woman was still of fertile age. How do you ask something like that gently? By his math she was only into her third decade, Modig wasn't very old yet. Perhaps close to her fourth but he had magic on his side. He just wondered if she would want to. He felt oddly at peace even though everything was such a mess. He admired them all for their ability to still love and find happiness in the midst of fear. It was a beautiful thing. But he supposed vengeance was just around the corner and revenge like that kept brutal men calm.

Author's Note/Tags: @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @manicpixiedreamb0y @cole-way-iero28 @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

I hope someone caught the necklace reference, I wanted to make it vengeance instead 😅 I hope you enjoyed the angst and fluff. A little hurt/comfort for all of them. Poor Tavis is a little out of the loop but oh my does he have ideas 👀 poor babies though. All of them. I hope you enjoyed 🖤☠️

[redjadethewriter]

Understanding One's Self to Figure Out Someone’s Character

I recently listened to the same ex-therapist speak about yet another intriguing topic: how to discern someone’s character. He mentioned some people focus on trivial methods such as eye movement, posture, hand or foot placement, and so on. While he acknowledged the potential effectiveness of these methods, he also introduced a much better way to truly understand the person in front of you. This idea resonated with me because it has helped me, although I never fully grasped why or how until I watched him talk about.

Furthermore, he revealed that he could see the goodness or quality in people, even beneath layers of insidious intentions. This ability has saved his life multiple times. I also came across another video of him discussing a survival mechanism called “people pleasing,” which hinders one’s sense of self. It made him and even me realize understanding oneself is crucial in deciphering someone’s character and possibly even their intentions.

This is not anything new or a secret. Even in certain spiritual practices, to fight a demon, you ask for the aid of another demon. In some games I played, to counter a higher dimensional entity, you summon or pay the price for an equal standing entity to oppose it. A monster can sense its own kind. How often to we see this used in entertainment? But I’m discussing real life.

Many of us have had challenging experiences in life. Some have even endured and survived narcissistic abuse, manipulation, and other horrible situations from parents or romantic partners. The list of the traumas one can endure is extensive. However, have you ever considered the insights that survivors gain once they have healed? Can you imagine the perspective of a recovering sociopath, psychopath, narcissist, or master manipulator? Can you imagine using that to help people? Who would know more about these individuals than the ones who have lived through it?

An ex-therapist shared his story of self-discovery while healing from parental neglect, abuse, and other painful experiences. By tapping into his own healing process, he developed a keen sense of discernment. Without even looking at someone, he could tell if they were being truthful, hiding something, or even manipulating others. Reflecting on his own survival strategies, he admitted that using people-pleasing as a coping mechanism was a form of manipulation. It involved saying what others wanted to hear in order to navigate or avoid difficult situations.

I can relate to this because manipulation was a learned behavior in my household, with my mother as my prime example. I don’t believe my mother is a bad person; rather, we both adopted these methods to minimize conflict and avoid devastating situations. Unfortunately, this caused us to lose touch with our true selves. I understand the necessity of wearing different masks for different situations, as it was a part of my trauma response. Because of my self-awareness, I can now recognize when someone is not revealing their true selves and how potentially dangerous they could be. In fact, I can often sense it without even hearing them speak. However, when they spoke, it further confirmed my initial impressions.

I do have a habit of seeing the good in people and recognizing qualities that could benefit others greatly. However, I understand now that if individuals don’t acknowledge their own issues or attempt to heal and change; it puts me at risk of encountering their underlying insidious intentions. It’s important for me to be cautious and protect myself from the brewing beast that lies beneath the surface, ready to attack if provoked.

However, I had these senses long before doing the inner work or acknowledging my traumas. Now, they have expanded their capability with the healing process. Even before, I would naturally peg out who was the one to worry about the most in a customer altercation at my jobs. In this particular incident, we had a customer, a Karen, who was raging about her drawing getting damaged in the frame shop. It was just a sketch she did in art class, not an expensive piece of work. Although she was going to get everything for free, she still raved on irrationally.

You would think I would be worried about the woman, right? However, it was actually the husband standing quietly behind her that caught my attention. I poked the manager on the arm and asked her to come with me to the back area. I told her, “If they ask, say nothing about who was handling the drawing. I have a bad feeling about him.” The manager cocked her head and peeked back out at the husband, not fully understanding what I was saying. After all, he appeared harmless and looked like a pushover, as it was the wife who was emotionally out-bursting.

Let me tell you, I hadn’t even heard the guy speak, but my alarm bells were going off. Something was giving me the notion that this dude could potentially harm someone or even kill them. So, when the manager went back out, the guy spoke and demanded to know who was handling the drawing. He wanted names and a face. Fortunately, the manager was smart enough to say that we aren’t permitted to provide that information.

There have been plenty of other situations where I had to turn up my people-pleasing ability and a bit of manipulative acting to de-escalate a situation. One such instance was when I had to manage a customer for my coworker, as no matter what he did, he couldn’t get the guy to calm down. The customer was in fury mode because the line was long, and we had a lot of orders to go through. With so much happening, it was especially difficult, considering this guy was 6 feet tall and built like a sumo wrestler who could easily put many people in the hospital. He was raising his voice right in front of us and let me paint a picture of how bad the situation looked. My coworker, who had asked me to assist him, was at the counter, holding a mallet ready in hand. Another male coworker, who was only 19, was in the next aisle over, standing right across from me. I could see him through the shelving, and he could see me, too. He kept his eye on me the whole time. Adding to the intensity, another male coworker from the neighboring department came over and stood at the corner of the aisle we were in, positioned behind me. That’s how bad it was, where three of my male coworkers needed to stand by and be ready. I don’t remember exactly how I did it, but somehow, I got that bulldozer of a man to calm down. He simmered down and started talking normally, acting all cool again. It’s like whatever I said and how I said it snapped him out of whatever he was feeling. I was grateful for that because not only would my life have been at risk, but my coworkers were ready to take down this man. So, I understood what the ex-therapist said about being manipulative has its benefits because it saved me plenty of times from potentially horrible situations.

Although I haven’t worked in retail for a long time, I believe my abilities in spotting someone’s character have improved because of the inner work I’ve done. While I am still a work in progress, these improvements have allowed me to view things from a different perspective. I can spot a person who’s ruled by arrogance much easier. Who’s power-hungry. Who’s a predator, a manipulator? I have to agree with the guy that so many people don’t recognize when they are being exploited by a wolf in sheep’s clothing. There are plenty of them on social media with massive followings and cult-like fans. It’s so scary to be honest. As a result, I can understand what the ex-therapist was referring to - the importance of knowing oneself first in order to better understand others. Perhaps even more effectively than someone who is solely trained in the field but lacks personal experiences or insights. Survivors of narcissism, for example, may possess a deeper understanding of narcissists compared to mental health professionals who have not been victims or narcissists themselves.

Alright, I will share some key indicators that can help you identify whether you’re dealing with a master manipulator who is power-hungry, arrogant, and only interested in exploiting you. First, it’s important to note that there is no relationship expert, especially when it comes to taking advice from someone of the opposite gender. This applies to both men and women because you never truly know who they are or their behind-the-scenes motivations. They could be hiding a dark side, such as being a domestic abuser, a narcissist, or even a sociopath, without even realizing it because many people are excellent at wearing masks. You can’t trust someone because they claim to be a love expert. In fact, following their guidance might put you in a dangerous situation without them giving it a second thought. These individuals may have a way with words and a charming smile, but they are more likely responsible for women settling for someone who could jeopardize their life or make it unbearable. It’s crucial to understand that they have no concern for your well-being.

Someone who genuinely cares about your well-being would point out the obvious: your trauma, your parental models regarding love, or witnessing a healthy or unhealthy relationship. Our environment teaches us almost everything, starting from childhood. There’s a reason they say you marry either your mother or father. It’s not for shits and giggles; it’s a fact. And now they know it shows in the brain, specifically in the regions in charge of novelty and familiarity. Our parents or caregivers and home dynamics are contributing factors to why it’s challenging to find a decent relationship, let alone deep love and companionship because of complex trauma. Someone would say it’s the construct and the cycle of bullshit that has put many people in their circumstances today. And a lot of it is not their fault, as they may not even be aware of it all. Ignorance is not bliss. We are trapped in toxic systems with a bunch of crazy man-made bullshit. However, it becomes your responsibility the moment you realize what’s the contributing factor to your situation and choose not to change it. This applies to everyone, not just a specific gender.

I have something to say: acclaimed thought-leaders often come across as ego-driven individuals who will never take accountability for being wrong. They will never admit they are wrong and made a mistake. They use vague and broad statements, talking excessively. You know the type - those professors who go on rants simply because they enjoy hearing themselves speak. They exude confidence in their voice and carefully choose their words. Let me tell you, the way words are strung together can hold more power than anything concrete or valid. Salespeople understand this concept well, using their communication skills to persuade people into buying things they don’t actually need. Acclaimed thought-leaders are no different. In fact, there are quite a few prominent names out there who exhibit sociopathic traits, and it genuinely frightens me that people haven’t realized it yet. I won’t mention any specific books or authors, but there is one book that essentially teaches you how to become a sociopath, albeit not explicitly titled as such. The advice it offers essentially guides you on adopting the traits of a sociopath.

Here are some words to be cautious of, as they may trigger your alarm bells. When you come across these words, it’s important to engage in critical thinking. Take everything that person says with a grain of salt and don’t consider it as absolute truth. Words like “master,” “guru,” and “expert” need to put you on high alert. If you encounter these words, detach yourself from your emotions and try to view it from a third-person perspective. Make a conscious effort to not get caught up in what they are saying. Nobody is a master or an expert. They can be more skilled in their field and have a bit more experience, but no one is a master or an expert. As human beings, our knowledge is limited. Information is constantly changing and evolving. Even monks cannot claim to be masters of enlightenment or beyond the human experience. Knowledge is infinite, and we have much to learn. It’s important to practice humility and acknowledge that we know very little. I, too, am just a student of life, so please approach what I say with discernment. Even as I write about all of this, continuously ask questions and engage in critical thinking, as I am a flawed human being with my own share of traumas to resolve.

The reason I write about trauma and its detrimental effects is because, like many others, I have a voice. However, because of my speech impediment, I may not sound as convincing as a suave speaker. Nonetheless, through my writing, I aim to provide some insight to whoever wants to read my blogs. I want to give them something to think about and perhaps highlight the possibility of healing and gaining wisdom from their traumas and experiences. Before: It never crossed my mind that my circumstances enable me to assess someone’s character so effectively. I’m still here, you know. Still alive by sheer damn luck. Learning about yourself, acknowledging and healing it might help you figure out someone’s insidious intentions, and may even save your life. Well, at least I hope.

Thank you.