#in regards to the validity of my content

[viviane-lefay]

AU for Dagan & Santari

… because I absolutely can't accept how things turned out for them - therefore, I made my own, preferred scenario for them.  

I’m not much of a writer, I’m afraid, and I don’t have much experience in storytelling, so this text will mostly be of a descriptive nature, like a plot, if you will - with some parts in between where I comment on certain aspects, sharing my opinion on them. It’s a bit chaotic, but please bear with me. ^^;;

Of course this is just my headcanon, based on my take on these characters & their relationship (more about that here & here), as well as my personal preferences. I mainly wrote this for myself, after all – and, hopefully, some like-minded others.

Anyway, please be nice! If you like it, then that is great - even if you only like some parts … just pick whatever resonates with you. And if you don't - please keep that to yourself, ok!?

Here's (roughly, for now) what I had in mind:

~*~

From what is shown in the game, there is no information about what happened to Santari after she left Koboh.

What if she, after she realized that Zee failed her mission, and there was no one left to release Dagan from his stasis (who would likely remain like this for a prolonged period of time), put herself in a stasis too, linked in duration to his (and, hence, didn't die), because ...

she just couldn't let go of him like this, refusing to give up on believing in him

but also felt that he needed to make a decision for himself, which path to choose undistractedly, and therefore didn't go to release him herself (which he, unfortunately, misinterpreted as yet another abandonment upon his release by Cal - but, then again, he was still traumatized by her turning on him during their last encounter).

Since she left Koboh for good with the remaining ships, it struck me as rather odd that, in the game, you can find her lightsaber hidden in a chest there, located in a sealed passageway.

Why is it on this very planet, of all places!? Shouldn't it rather be in her latest location? Or did she even leave it there on purpose?

Knowing of the significance of the saber for the Jedi, as well as the importance to never lose it (“This weapon is your life.” - Obi-Wan, Ep. II), it makes me wonder if she left behind the life of a Jedi, and just remained a scientist. Since being a Jedi was such an important part of her life, this must have been a very profound decision to make, and maybe even a sacrifice for something of even greater importance to her.

Frankly, her complete disregard for the Jedi council's decision, as well as her further plans, make it pretty clear where her true loyalties and priorities lie - and it's not the Jedi order in this case.

You can see that illustrated very well in the game, when she refuses to turn him in, disobeying a direct order by the council by doing so - which, in itself, is already a huge crime, given his actions and how powerful and dangerous he is. Then, she keeps what happened to Dagan a secret, hides him from them, plotting for him to get away with it all and reach his goals nonetheless.

That she also plans to reunite with him after he is released from stasis indeed raises the question of her potentially having left the order – because to them he is a wanted criminal now – and it would make no sense if she lead him into a trap when she had already put in so much effort into his protection. Imho, her leaving because she chose the man she loves over the Jedi order is definitely the most likely explanation.

That she turned on him in the end is not because of his open rebellion against the order, or his plans regarding Tanalorr - after all she rebelled in her own way, albeit in a more subtle, hidden manner. Her and his goals were the same … the means, however, weren't.

And that is exactly where the problem is - the way he went about it - especially with him turning to the dark side.

She was clearly desperate, terrified to lose him because of this, and tried to stop him for that very reason. She wanted to prevent him from going further down that road.

Ironically, he wasn't able to see that, and, of all things, it was her (perceived) betrayal first and foremost, that caused his actual fall, and further descent after being released from stasis.

Her severing his arm was a complete kneejerk reaction, borne out of her despair, and I’m inclined to believe that it weighed quite heavily on her, and would haunt her from then on.

In the flashback scene you can clearly tell how distressed she is, inside, despite her somewhat level-headed demeanor. How she immediately rushes to him and holds him, calling out for help. Only after he's fallen unconscious, she gives vent to her feelings, doubles over and cries (you can't see her face, but it's fairly obvious that she does).

Aside from the arm issue, their confrontation was quite faltering anyway. You could really tell that neither wanted to do this, let alone hurt the other.

Especially with him, this becomes evident, given what he did to the other Jedi who opposed him, and what he is capable of, combat skills - wise. (I'm sure, Santari is proficient with her lightsaber, but she's not a warrior, like him, who is renowned for his outstanding skills as a duelist. She would have lasted some time, I'll grant her that, but not for long.) Instead he just shoves her away via the force, and also just lightly.

~*~

Anyway, here’s a description of one of the key scenarios I had in mind:

After awakening from her stasis and coming to terms with the historic changes that have taken place, galaxy-wide, Santari prepares for her return to Koboh. Once there, she keeps a low profile, as not to catch too much attention, and to just gather information on the recent happenings there. Troubled by what she learned, she decides to act instead of taking a more passive, observant approach, as she planned earlier.

She barely made it to the observatory in time to interrupt the fight between Dagan, Cal, and Bode, that had just started.

Her sudden appearance unfortunately heated up the situation any further, throwing the already upset Dagan into complete turmoil.

She tried to reason with him, but he was too caught up in his feelings of betrayal, and the version of reality he had so carefully constructed to endure and justify everything, that he just wouldn’t hear her out – not before Tanalorr was secured.

But he would not attack her. After all that had happened between them, he still did not hate her. Anger, yes, resentment for her actions, but hate ... he couldn't bring himself to feel that way towards her - and never would.

Instead, he quickly redirected his rage towards Cal again, and the fight resumed, more furious than before.

Bode, who was getting impatient, inserted himself at some point by starting to fire shots from his blaster at Dagan in quick succession, which were all blocked, but one. Normally, this wouldn't have been a challenge for Dagan, but the whole situation with Santari had thrown him off balance, and he lacked his usual poise.

The damage was but minor, but it jolted not only Dagan awake again, but also Santari, who had been watching the scenario unfold in grief-stricken numbness.

Seeing their chance, Cal and Bode started a coordinated attack from different directions.

This time, he would have been able to both parry Cal's blows, as well as deflect Bode's shots, but an alarmed Santari rushed behind him to block the blaster shots, just in the moment as he spun around and set out to do so himself.

It happened too fast even for him, too unexpected, and the moment was already over before the realization about what had occurred crept in. He could only watch in dismay as his blade struck her, see her falter and fall, only to be caught by him, just before she would hit the ground, and hear himself crying out her name, holding her seemingly lifeless body in his arms, as the world zeroed in on her and her mere existence, and a wave of mind-numbing pain and regret washed over him.

As he holds her close, he notices that she is still breathing, albeit weakly, and thus still alive, despite her serious injury. Desperate to save her, he carefully picks her up and sets out in a rush to carry her to the nearest medical facility.

Just as he got up, an incensed and clearly impatient Bode steps in his way and shouts at him, demanding the compass, which at the time is still in Dagan’s possession.

Aware that any further delay would come at the cost of Santari’s life, Dagan, who is beyond caring at this point, snatches the compass from his belt and dismissively tosses it in Bode’s direction, before storming off.

~*~

Frankly, in his case I think a profound shock such as this is necessary to snap him out of his rather set thought- and behavioural patterns and to truly make him question his actions.

It is also important that it was Dagan, of all people, to strike her down, and not her being hit by an attack by Bode or Cal. If it had been the latter, it wouldn’t have had such a transformative effect on him in the way the proposed scenario did, as it would have just provided an opportunity for him to further project onto others, and to redirect his anger towards his opponents any further.

Accidentally hurting the woman he loves, himself, with no one else to lay the blame on, would finally be the catalyst for him to shift his focus inwards and recognize the error of his decisions and actions - that it was his own pride and obstinacy that led to this outcome - and then to take accountability.

Above all I want him to realize (or rather remember) that he loves Santari more than anything in the universe, that he would do anything for this woman, and would gladly sacrifice anything for her - be it Tanalorr, his pride, any other ambition of his, whatever the cost - that all these things are meaningless without her, and that he is willing to forego it all, if only she is alive and well.

Basically, I want them to have this "reverse anidala" theme, where the man's love for the woman, and his strong attachment to her, instead of spelling his doom, ultimately is the key factor that saves him from the dark side, initiating a profound transformation within him, which also leads to his redemption arc.

You know, in Star Wars foreshadowing (especially via dialogue) has always been a huge theme. More often than not, there was a deeper meaning hidden somewhere, which would become evident during the course of the story.

A prime example of this is Obi-Wan's remark to Anakin: "Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be the death of me?", or when Anakin says to Padmé: "The thought of not being with you - I can't breathe." These are all allusions to things that have not yet come to pass, but eventually will.

In Dagan's case, this one line, spoken to Santari in a Force Echo, really stood out to me as such a potentially prophetic statement:

"You're the only one who can guide me back."

In the scene itself they were talking about Dagan's perilous mission to fly into the Koboh Abyss. I found the choice of name for this nebula quite interesting on a symbolic level, as the word "abyss” (which, in myth, was a term used to describe the underworld, and even the hellish realms - a dark and dreadful place) could very well stand as a perfect analogy for the dark side, and getting lost therein.

As we saw, Santari’s betrayal and her loss of course had been a major factor in his fall, there is no deying that (for instance, we see that this particular memory was the crucial one to truly complete the bleeding of his lightsaber’s kyber crystal).

In the game's canon, however, we are merely confronted with a missed opportunity. There was no Santari anymore - she was long since gone - so he had to deal with this ultimate loss on top of his already existing trauma, and all that was left for him was to cling like a madman to the only remaining thing that had a connection to her, which was Tanalorr. And it was pretty clear that his emotional ties to Santari were a pivotal aspect of his obsession with this planet.

So, in my AU I want to explore what would have happened, if Dagan had been given that chance, and Santari would have been there, after all, "guiding him back" - or rather her being the catalyst for him, to give him the hope and strength to walk this path himself, as it actually is his love for her that truly guides him back:

That this would be possible is pretty much a given, as there were other characters that were way further gone, darkside-wise, than he was, that also turned back to the light - prime example being Anakin Skywalker, of course.

(The original) Star Wars has always been all about hope, faith, and making the seemingly impossible possible – at its core it has always been deeply optimistic, with a firm belief in and emphasis on the good in mankind. If you're looking for nihilist, cynical portrayals and outcomes ... sorry, wrong universe. (If that is the shit you want, then try Game of Thrones, ffs!)

No one believed that Anakin could be saved, except for Luke, and Padmé, who expressed her unwavering faith in Anakin's innate goodness and his ability turn back with her dying breath.

More cynical minds would probably say that both Luke's, and Padmé's judgements were clouded by their feelings for Anakin - except that this wasn't the case - quite the opposite, in fact.

As for Padmé - she might not have been able to acknowledge the warning signs of his imminent fall in the moment, but she certainly felt that something troubling was going on. However, concerning the nature of his being, her perception couldn’t have been any more accurate.

After all it was her, who had this profound and intimate connection to him, who knew him better and deeper than anyone else, and, for that very reason, was able to perceive something in him that the others just couldn't. And she was a woman with a sharp mind and common sense, and her reasoning was absolutely sound.

And, yes, she was vindicated in the end!

I see that very much mirrored in Santari, her unwavering faith in Dagan, and her unwillingness to give up on him.

Here's her expressing her conviction in a force echo scene, that took place after her confrontation with Dagan, and right after he was put in the bacta tank:

"The council may have given up on you, but I know who you truly are, Dagan. Even if you yourself have forgotten..."

Of course she knows! It has been hinted at in the game multiple times that these two have known each other for a long time, are very, very close, and share a deep bond based on mutual trust, amongst other things. So, this conviction of hers is very much built on the fact that she knows him better, deeper, and more intimately than anyone else - that she knows things about him that no one else knows, has seen a side of him that no one else has ever seen. That she is the only one able to see him truly as the way he is, and is, therefore, the only one able to make a sound judgement of him and what he is capable of - or isn't.

This woman is anything but a sentimental fool, not only is she a fucking genius, she also possesses great wisdom, discernment, patience, and self-control, so, of course, there is substance to her claims, regardless of the fact that she is in love with him.

~*~

That said, I’ll now continue to describe the scenario for my AU:

Cal had been watching everything unfold with conflicting emotions, and he could not deny that the tragic turn of events on his opponent’s side affected him.

Ever since he saw them together in the force echoes, Cal has always had his suspicions about the true nature of the feelings the two Jedi harboured for each other, and now he saw the undeniable truth right in front of his eyes.

As much as he resented Dagan’s previous actions - seeing this proud man so broken and forlorn, clasping the lifeless form of his lost love to his bosom, he could not help but empathize with him, being all too familiar with love and loss himself.

It did impress him no less to see Dagan, moments later, relinquish the key to Tanalorr - to his discovery, his home, his ambitions, and his great obsession - without a moment’s hesitation, as not to lose time for saving his beloved.

At the same time, Bode’s behaviour in this situation filled him with indignation. How was this any better than Dagan’s previous conduct towards them!? It was not. If anything, it was just as unscrupulous, and that was not how he wanted to be, or to act.

Maybe it was his sense of justice, maybe it was a surge of sympathy, maybe both, that made him turn and go after Dagan, who had just disappeared through the door.

Even so, his sudden reappearance, was met by a furious glare by Dagan who was in no mood to tolerate any further delays, not believing Cal’s claim of only wanting to help. So Cal just prompted BD-1 to act, who immediately understood and administered the last health stim in his possession to Santari, who indeed seemed to show a response.

Dagan, who was too caught up in his concern for Santari just shot him a glance, before rushing off again. However short it had been, the surprise and relief in his eyes had still been visible - as well as a hint of gratitude, or so Cal believed.

From behind, Bode urged him to leave, but he refused, saying he would follow later. He needed time to reflect.

As he made his way back down, hours later, walking through the corridors, he passed by the medical ward. He stopped and stood there, wondering what had become of Santari - if his help had made any difference, however small, even if it meant that she just barely made it, and if, at this point, she was still alive after all.

With a mixture of curiosity and concern, he entered the hallway that led to the examination room. The door was still left open and he slowly made his way to the front, so he could catch sight of what was going on inside.

On the surgery couch, connected to a device that was monitoring her vital parameters, there was a still unconscious, but alive Santari.

Inclined towards her, Dagan was sitting by her side, lost in thought, holding her hand in his remaining one, his eyes fixated on the delicate features of the woman in front of him. His expression was full of sorrow and longing, yet above it all there was a deep affection gracing his handsome face, displaying a tenderness, Cal wouldn’t have associated with him before.

How long had he been watching over her like this, Cal wondered. Night had almost passed, and the horizon was already lighting up in a faint violet.

Daring not to interrupt the scene, he slowly turned, moving as silently as he could, when a deep voice, lowly but firmly, commanded him to wait. He did not know how and when, but somewhere along the line Dagan must have taken notice of his presence.

He again turned to face the Jedi master, who sat still, immovable, in his spot. Even now, as Dagan spoke on, his gaze remained, dwelling upon his beloved.

“When she was examined, I was informed, that it was your medicine that had made a difference, after all. Without it, I would have lost her.”, he concluded, his voice raw with unexpressed emotion. A moment of silence followed, an indrawn breath.

“Thank you!”

Although greatly humbled by the previous events, it must not have easily passed his lips … and yet, he seemed to feel the need to express this to him. A declaration so simple, as it was powerful, genuine, heartfelt.

Cal could appreciate that, inquiring if there was a chance she might make it now that her condition had stabilized at last.

Dagan nodded, ascertaining that until then, he would remain by her side and keep vigil over her quiescent state, waiting for a sign, however long it would take.

In case she woke again, he expressed his hopes that, should they meet again, may this be on better terms than their past encounters.

In case she did not … he paused with a pained expression, briefly closing his eyes, before continuing … then this should now be his bidding him a final farewell.

Cal, understanding the unspoken message, dared not pursue the question any further, and instead agreed expressly to Dagan’s sentiment regarding better future relations, before taking his leave.

Still deep in thought, he returned to his friends, who were already waiting for him at the Mantis, ready to take off for Jedha.

For Dagan, a long vigil remained, that would last another night and day, hours of uncertainty and doubt wearing on in a gruellingly slow pace.

In the silence that surrounded him, the voices in his mind kept on howling all the louder, seized with remorse, confronting him with every decision he made, every action he took - that ultimately led to this result, that he now realized were wrong - in an unceasing and damning judgement.

“If she dies, it is your fault!”, they would scream, and he knew there was nothing he could say to deny their allegations, that lessened his guilt in this matter even for one bit. That was the hardest thought to bear – that it was him, his pride, his obstinacy, and impatience, who had brought about this misery, him, of all people, who hurt her – the one he loved the most.

At this point, the voices that wondered about the “what if”s and “what could have been”s chimed in, telling him the tantalizing tale of chances lost, and all the roads not taken. If only he had listened to her …

At last, a breathed sigh that signalled her waking pulled him out of his thoughts, after a time that felt like an eternity, spent in his personal purgatory.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open to reveal the soft brown gaze that he so often had lost himself in, that he was again losing himself in in this very moment. With quivering lips, he uttered her name, his voice shaky and raw.

Her mouth silently forming the syllables of his name in response, and the accompanying expression, the longing he felt mirrored in her eyes, were enough to push him over the edge.

A sudden, hot wave of emotion overtook him and before he knew, their lips were locking, and he was kissing her with a desperate, fervent hunger he had not known before – not like this.

When he finally let go, his eyes were moist, and two rivulets of tears, shed out of relief and regret in equal measure, were trickling down his face. His heart was screaming and pleading her to forgive him, but the words just barely escaped his mouth. Dainty fingers reached up and softly brushed his cheek, concern and understanding in her eyes.

Just as he set on to speak again, she just lightly shook her head and pulled him in once more.

Slender arms wound tightly around his broad shoulders, and her hands delved deep into the silver masses of his hair, silken strands between her fingers.

His own remaining arm gently slid behind her back, supported by his force-conjured limb, to pull her up and close, always careful not to put too much pressure on her still fragile and healing form. Still, his hand was clutching the fabric of her tunic so hard it was almost shaking, clinging to her with the urgency of a drowning man.

As short and intense their previous kiss was, it was merely a prelude to the additional sweetness and depth of the one they shared now. She yielded under his touch like delicate flower petals under the rain, sinking back into the crook of his arm, as his lips were bearing down on hers with the full weight and ardour of the love he could not contain anymore.

After what seemed like ages, and yet too soon, their lips slowly parted, softly grazing, catching and releasing each other in feverish zeal in between, reluctant to let go.

They would remain, tightly entangled in their embrace, for a long while, trying to steady themselves, their breath still shaky from their madly racing heart. Trying to make up for the loss of his hand, that would have come up to rest at her face at this point, he inclined, giving her nose a gentle nudge with his own.

Santari, who knew the mannerisms of her beloved like no other, picked up his unspoken intention. Memories came welling up, unbidden, in a wave of guilt and regret that had never left her since their altercation on the Shattered Moon, overtaking her mind and finding their final release in a strangled sob, with her own heart begging for a forgiveness it would never grant itself, but knew it was already given by the one her plea was directed towards.

Like an answer, his cheek came to rest against hers, and their tears mingled, building bit by bit into a torrent, running in silence, until one of them finally rose to speak.

And there was so much to speak about, so much that they had to tell each other, that finally had to be said.

As they talked, they made their way up again, towards the top level of the observatory, with Santari leaning on Dagan for support, who had wrapped his arm around her in a protective manner, steadying her, attending her along the way, walking slowly, carefully.

When they arrived, the sun was nearing the horizon, painting the sky in a gradient of fire, that, itself, was fading into the darkening blue of the falling night, wherein the most luminous stars were already glimmering, scattered across the celestial landscape.

They sat down in the spot they so often had frequented once, two centuries in the past, gazing at the starlit sky, dreaming together. His arm remained, tightly wound around her and she sank into his embrace again, as he patiently, intently listened to her, before it was his turn again to speak, in an exchange that would yet become hours of unburdening their hearts.

It was already deep into the night when Dagan’s exhaustion eventually made itself known, getting the better of him after his prolonged, untiring vigil without rest. So, they laid down, snuggled up to each other on their makeshift bed under the stars, heads rested on his cloak, turned into a pillow for them both, and under Santari’s loving and watchful gaze, he finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep – this time, with her keeping guard over him instead.

He woke to her humming, the caressing, feathery touch of her fingers running through his hair, and a smile as warm as the rays of the midday sun that now stood at its zenith in the sky. She was still in the same position she occupied last night, concerned not to rouse him all too early, but also not entirely willing to remove herself from his embrace either, savouring the languid hours of a morning slept-in in the arms of her love, something they were but seldomly granted to do in the past, watching the expression of serenity and peace gracing his exquisitely fair face.

She already felt better, invigorated even, and so did Dagan, who had regained his usual strength after his long overdue night’s rest.

Both agreed that it was now time for them to leave and they set out for the landing platform on which Santari’s ship was stationed.

The ship was an old relic from a bygone era, that Dagan immediately recognized as his own, that, despite its age and traces of usage, had served him well during his countless expeditions, bearing him to many faraway places, just as it now had borne her here.

So, instead of choosing a new one, she took his old ship and made it her own, just as he had planned to do with her droid. He could not help but chuckle at the thought.

Granted, it was an elegant vessel, with its streamlined form, and tasteful, spacious interior, that in its day had its use as the private transport of some aristocrat – at least that is what the previous owner had told him. What most stood out about it, though, was its great maneuverability and speed, that even time and use did not diminish – qualities that, aside from his own outstanding capabilities as a pilot, carried him through the Abyss and back again.

Whereto would it carry them now?

That was the one question that still remained. Where did they go now, without a home to return to!?

But the answer was - it did not matter – truly, it never did. All he knew and all that did matter now, was that he could go anywhere, anyplace, as long as she was with him. His true and only home was her - the home he could not live without, the home that he never wanted to be parted from again.

As he expressed these sentiments to her, he gave in to the thought that had been occupying his mind during the lonesome hours of his vigil, a rekindled dream of yore.

He took a step back, all the while keeping his eyes locked on hers and his gaze, strangely intense, took on an almost imploring quality. Like this, he remained for a moment, his breath shaky, then he sank to his knee, finally daring to ask the once forbidden question that had long since been burning in his heart.

With a gasp of disbelief and recognition, her eyes widened …

It had been a secret dream of theirs, something they once had wondered about - she remembered it like yesterday - born in a blissful moment, as they lay in each other’s arms, snuggled together after lovemaking and immersed in the other’s eyes, exchanging drowsy kisses every now and again, they were envisioning what life would have been like for them together if they were no Jedi, dreaming up a possible scenario … just a woman and a man, bound by no other vows but the one that tied them together as one.

And they would go on - imagining the home they would have built and shared together, a small sanctuary just for the two of them - until they drifted off to sleep, only to wake up again in the life they had - the life of a scientist and a knight of the order, and a love lived in secrecy. Because that was all it was – just a fond wish, a lovely fantasy far beyond their grasp. Tanalorr was the closest they got, and yet it had been taken from them.

But now … times had changed - the order was gone, the Jedi but few, their doctrine a mere relic of the past, and they were free – free to do whatever they pleased – a second chance to try and seize, but even now she would not have dared to believe, to hope, he would be so bold and act – to actually ask her – and yet here they were.

Too overwhelmed to speak, she just stood there for a moment, her hand cupped over her quivering lips, gulping back a sob, before she fell down into his arms, finally blurting out the answer he so longed to hear. With a deep sigh of relief, betraying how tense and nervous he must have felt, he pulled her close and kissed her in his characteristic, passionate manner that always made her knees go weak.

~*~

Frankly, I don't think the assumption that they might have these desires is all that unreasonable, considering they had this dream of a shared home, that was at the core of their overarching plans of building a temple, and achieving great things for the order.

This is especially strong with Dagan … first of all – because it is mentioned by him in the game (along with other things being heavily implied).

When he bleeds his kyber crystal, his voice takes on an increasingly agitated tone, finally peaking when he refers to Tanalorr as “my home” - not his project, his contribution to the order, but his home - and then, when he mentions Santari’s betrayal, everything explodes.

Of course, you also, if not especially, need to consider his formative years as a slave on Arkania (at least how I imagine them to be like), and the influence these had on his needs and desires.

So, why should marrying the woman he loves not be one of these desires!? Maybe not of Dagan the knight, with his lofty and noble ambitions, but of Dagan the man, carrying this wish in his most secret heart.

It definitely sounds like something he would want, and actually act upon once he sees a chance – after all, he’s a very emotionally passionate person, prone to follow his heart’s desire, as well as his instincts more than anything else (just like Anakin), and someone who doesn’t give a f*** about conventions (also very much like Anakin, who also happens to be not the only Jedi ever to have tied the knot, btw – it is said there have always been some to have done this despite the “rules”).

Imho, he’d totally dig this idea of the completely committed nature of marriage, this absolute and unbreakable bond, as well as showing Santari his undying love and devotion this way. And the fact, that it’s very much an official thing – even better! The whole galaxy has to know, too!

As for Santari … I think her sentiments are absolutely the same, but she’s, of course, more the sober-minded and patient one, but not any less strong-willed, nor any less stubborn and defiant than him, if she truly wants something, mind you - it’s just that her nature allows her to act in a far more subtle manner.

One thing is certain - their actions have more than proven that their priorities and loyalties lie, first and foremost, with each other, and no one else!

Ultimately, I feel, getting married is such a great choice for them, because of their bond that runs so deep - a love that is not only profound and strong, but also enduring - and the magnitude of their attachment that is already present.

Sealing this bond in marriage - while being of singular personal importance to them, of course - would only be a symbolic act, in the end, to make said bond visible to the outside world. So, regarding their status as force user and Jedi, it would hardly have any relevance, as the attachment is already there anyway, as I said.

[ Btw, I can’t stand the attitude that emotional commitment and attachment has to be this exclusively negative thing, with predominantly negative consequences. It is said to only lead to the dark side, but, Imho, there is so much potential for the positive in these bonds – if only they can be channeled in a favourable direction.

Only a bond as deep and as powerful as this would be able to produce the emotional impulse of a magnitude strong enough to tear someone away from the grasp of the dark side for good, as was seen with Anakin. I’m actually more than a little surprised that this fact gets overlooked so constantly. Shame!

Besides - as if Jedi hooking up, sleeping around and just leaving with unfazed detachment because “muh rules”, even becoming deadbeat dads in the process, is any better … WTF! And no, producing force sensitive children and potential initiates for the order is no excuse. Ugh, I hate this argument! Whoever must have come up with that must have been a massive fuckboy…

Dagan definitely isn’t such a guy – quite the opposite, in fact!

Good that Luke got rid of that stupid mindset and rule! After all, his father fell, to a significant degree, just because of it. And I wonder how many Jedi did as well, who remain unmentioned – let alone the hearts that got broken because of it. ]

Maybe Tanalorr was the attempt to reconcile these two sides (the two Jedi versus the man and the woman), and make this dream, which he shared with Santari, a reality.

And, of course, "what happens in the Temple on Tanalorr stays in the Temple on Tanalorr", as I read somewhere. ;)

~*~

Some hours later, they were off, heading to Coruscant, leaving Koboh behind for a while, to accomplish what they had planned to do.

At Santari’s urging, they made a stopover at the nearest medical center, for Dagan to finally get a cybernetic replacement for his lost arm. Still full of remorse over what happened on the Shattered Moon base, she felt unable to find any peace of mind until at least the visible signs of the damage, that her saber had wrought, were undone. Dagan, who still felt the pain of his own regret as acutely, perceived her sorrow despite her composed demeanor, drew her in his still one-armed embrace, and tried to cheer her up, voicing his support of the idea, as it would enable him to hold her again like he used to. The prospect, as well as the disarming nonchalance in which it was stated, the playful smirk and the twinkle in his eye, still managed to conjure a smile on her face.

When they returned to Koboh two weeks later, now a married couple, they first made a visit to Pyloon’s Saloon, to look for Zee, as Santari had learned of her whereabouts after her initial arrival on the planet, and was looking forward to meet her old assistant, hoping for her to join them again – especially after the restoration of her memory.

Just as they wanted to enter the saloon, the Mantis emerged in the skies and landed on its usual place on the platform – Cal, Merrin, Greez, and Kata disembarked and came their way.

Cal, who was still reeling from Bode’s betrayal and loss, a downcast and sombre expression darkening his face, lightened up a little at their sight, seeming almost glad to see them.

Once inside, they were about to exchange greetings, still a little tense despite their recently changed, now more amicable relations, when Zee, who had recognized their voices from above, rushed down to greet them, only to be brought up short at the sight of Dagan, of whom she took note with no little bewilderment and shock, the memory of their last encounter still present in her mind.

But when the delicate figure, that clung to his side, his arm gently placed around her, turned her head in Zee’s direction and was immediately recognized as her old master, she came heading towards her in exuberant spirits, an overjoyed exclamation of “Master Khri!” ringing out of her vocalizer, and immediately assailed her with a plethora of questions, inquiring to know about the reason of her sudden appearance, which also aroused the attention of the others in their circle.

Santari explained everything Zee, as well as the others, wanted to know, in her usual calm and patient manner. It was the instant, when she was speaking about Dagan, referring to him as her husband, that took everyone by surprise, and for a moment there was silence.

While it was, by now, known to everyone but Zee, that the bond between Santari and Dagan was one of love (thanks to Cal’s account), none of them had expected the two Jedi to take it a step further and actually wed, in complete defiance of the rules the Order had instilled into them from early on.

Rules that were quickly brought up by the nonplussed droid, who just couldn’t believe her master would ever go against this doctrine - and now seemed so unconcerned about it, happy even, exchanging enamoured glances with her now-husband, who put his affections on display with a boldness that would have made Zee blush, had she been able to.

Curious enough, no one else seemed to have any objections, and, she didn’t know if she read it right, but there seemed to be a subtle note of approval, respect even, colouring the voice of young Cal Kestis, as he joined Merrin in expressing his congratulations to his fellow Jedi.

Following this, the conversation quickly evolved into a discussion about the recent events.

Eventually, they came to the conclusion that it was best to unite regarding the settlement on Tanalorr, as well as the redevelopment of the Jedi temple, and the new directions the teachings should be taken to.

The only matter left to sort out now were the Bedlam Raiders, and what was to happen with them, now that Dagan, their leader, and the only person with enough influence to rein them in, was to depart to Tanalorr.

That is what they were now planning to take care of, before starting their journey together with the others.

Before they set out for the Raiders’ Lucrehulk headquarters, Santari pulled a small device out of her pocket, a data carrier of sorts, and quickly restored Zee’s memory.

Out of consideration, the latter was allowed to wait in the Saloon for their return, instead of joining them on their mission to the place that still held nothing but bad memories for her. Greez, however, was grateful to have someone to help him with the preparations for the upcoming relocation.

~*~

So much for the key part of my AU.

Of course, there is more, but the most important aspect, the big turning point, has been dealt with here.

[shdwtouch]

going forward I will most likely not be following blogs that are strictly dr/gon age affiliated*, and will not be writing da verses for any of my characters. multis, people I'm familiar with, etc will receive exceptions based on my comfort level (which, I WILL be reconsidering when I remake, which is to say I made decide I don't want to follow anymore, etc).

however, I am going to transition from being mutuals only to being mutuals preferred, meaning if folks wants to interact they can still follow me and reach out ! just know that I will most likely not be writing da verses (I'm going to preemptively state I may write CLOSED da verses for the people I am comfy writing with, but I can't confirm), and will require writing either a crossover or in a non-da verse.

lastly, if folks want to know why exactly I've decided to do this or feel the need to do this then ya'll are welcome to reach out and ask, otherwise I'm not gonna waste time overexplaining myself cuz frankly I don't think most people care and choosing not to interact with fandoms is something that's become more accepted.

generally, I refuse to feel ashamed. you either accept this or don't. it's not personal 🤷 if you need me to clarify that to you directly (which is valid !! I know I'd probably feel a bit anxious) then please don't feel shy about asking. I promise it is not you and is very much me. it is not my intention to hurt or alienate the mutuals I have who are writing / enjoy da.

this all being said: as it stands, if I am following you and you are a predominantly da or da centric blog*... you're in the clear 👍 you have passed the vibe check, as it were. there will definitely be another vibe check when I remake, at which point I may decide to part ways (as said elsewhere I'm not gonna cut people off just cuz they're writing da, so if you have other blogs or want to continue talking thats fine) for my own comfort, but that is an unknown point in the future so for now. just know I'm okay ! no issue here. carry on as usual, I support you and am comfortable.

which, I also just want to quickly state: I take responsibility for the content I consume. I am controlling my space with my best interest in mind, and will make choices as needed that align with those interests. basically, if you ARE writing da centric stuff and I follow you ? trust I am capable and aware ♡ I am a grown ass adult capable of assessing risk to my wellbeing, and using the tools I have at my disposal to minimize that risk and discomfort. trust that.

anyway. this was meant to be a short and sweet psa and it turned into one of my trademark overexplained rambles. here's a cookie for reading. sending good vibes to everyone !

*for the sake of my sanity (as in I realized this may seem like a vague way to categorize) when I say dr/gon age affiliated I mean affiliated specifically with the fandom / rpc (as in, I see you blogs that are not strictly affiliated with the fandom, you are valid), and when I say predominantly da or da centric blogs I mean blogs focused predominantly on da muses or a da verse (but having other options; as a note, these are the type of blogs I'm most likely to interact with, as they are feasibly easier to do so with).

[scrub456]

Full disclosure: life has been hard lately, and my head space has not been great. That's why what I'm about to share has me livid.

It's been a while since I checked my comments on AO3, and oh gosh, look there's a new one! I open it up to see this...

Now, I've been around for a while. I know spam/bot when I see one, so I took this screen shot, marked it as spam, and almost just moved on with my day. But then I got to thinking...

I'm NOT in a great head space. If I hadn't been aware of this sort of garbage comment, this would have DESTROYED me. Heck, if I had gotten this comment on one of my first posted fics, back when life wasn't quite so hard, it would've seriously made me consider shutting myself off and never posting again.

And that made me so unbelievably angry.

Because I just know there are other authors and artists out there who are getting these same comments. People who are young and just getting started, and easily swayed by the opinions of others. Or individuals who are struggling, for whatever reason, and every word or brush stroke is a hard won fight, and need even just the tiniest validation that their effort is worth continuing. And broken ones who are looking for any reason at all to either get up or quit. (Don't quit. Please don't quit.)

I know this type of post has been written before; I have shared it multiple times, but the authors and artists out there, just know, your voice matters, your view of the world is unique and beautiful and necessary. Don't let who you are be swayed by the opinions of others, most especially soulless spam/bots who don't know you, don't see the heart and creativity you've poured into your work, and most importantly, HAVE NOT EVEN READ/VIEWED WHAT IT COMMENTED ON.

You want proof that these vile comments are unfounded, meaningless, steaming piles of putrid sewage? The above comment was posted on chapter 27 of my Inktober 2024 collection on AO3. This is a screen shot of that entire chapter:

There are no cliffhangers, no dramatics, nothing. Just 27 chapters of fan art. Drawings. It's not in any way a cohesive story, rather an eclectic collection of prompt fills featuring multiple and varying fandoms.

The hate fueled spam/bot is just that. Not worth my time, effort, or even the brain capacity I have given it. It doesn't care who I am, it's job is to post venom and destroy. The thing is, I learned long ago to not care about it either. My main reason for this post is to try to reach the authors and artists out there who have maybe fallen victim to these types of comments, and to let them know that they aren't alone in receiving these messages. Don't fall for it. Don't let the words take up any space in your creative mind and lovely heart.

And just in case you aren't sure what you're looking at when it comes to spam/bot comments, here are a few clear clues...

1. These comments can be positive too, but look for context. Does any of what the comment says actually apply to your work? Does it address specific details? Or are the 'details' it addresses details that actually appear in your story? (I.e. - cliffhangers in my collection of drawings).

2. Is the commenter a 'guest' profile? Now, not all guest profiles are bots, there are lovely people out there who, for their own personal reasons, have opted not to create user profiles, but still love fandom. But, a lot of (though not all) spam/bot profiles are guest profiles. And you can usually tell the difference just by the content of the comment. The below comment was a guest profile also left on Inktober 2024. It's simple, specific, and greatly appreciated.

3. The spam/bot comments are usually of a longer nature, extremely vague in regards to addressing what it is that is likeable or hateful about the post, and they go overboard with the language (excessive adjectives) used to prove their point. If you want to see other specific examples to look out for, I recommend doing a Tumblr search of "ao3 spam."

4. If you receive a comment that is questionable, and there is actually a user profile attached, check out the profile. Almost all of these spam/bot profiles are brand new (like, same day as you publish), and/or completely blank - as in, no used details, nothing published, nothing bookmarked, nothing at all.

5. Good or bad, always report spam/bots. Sites like AO3 and Tumblr are aware of the situation, and any reports they receive can help them take steps to protect legitimate users.

6. If the spam/bot offers a money-making situation, offers to pay you for use of your creation, or asks for money in any way, shape, or form, report it immediately. AO3 has very strict guidelines about not using the site for monetization. Also, if it seems too good to be true... it is.

I don't know if anyone will even read all of this. But if you do, I want you to know that I am posting this from a place of vulnerability, knowing how much a comment such as the ugly one above, timed just right (or wrong), would have destroyed me. The only reason it didn't this time was because I was armed with knowledge. I hope this post helps you. I hope you have a peaceful day. I hope your words or your art come easy. I hope you know how brave you are for sharing pieces of you with an uncertain world. I hope you keep going. 💙

[spotsupstuff]

I'm still working on getting the gardening ending for myself, but I've been collecting some ponderings I'd like to write down. So:

A congregate of thoughts on Watcher lore (as of now):

• I really like that this DLC is right now three kids in a spiritual trenchcoat. None of them is normal. I bet they'd all be friends if they met.

• I really like the color coding of these 3, as for what I've assumed regarding to colors' symbolism in this world: - Black stands for Nirvāṇa, the Void, being outside of the reincarnation cycle - Gold/yellow stands for holiness, ascension - Blue/purple stands for damnation/stagnation - White stands for Saṃsāra, the cycle of reincarnation, the physical world (the Watcher lingers in the physical world, unwilling to leave it)

On the account of blue and yellow being on opposing sides on the color wheel, I'd also gander a guess that the Rot and the Void don't entirely agree with each other/may be on opposing sides.

• Therefore, I don't think the gardening ending was exactly what the Rot Prince wanted to achieve, supported by his last two dialogues with the Watcher:

[Greeting lines]. As with all great deeds, my work is not without great challenge. It has taken eons and the light fades. The paths close and change. I can almost feel... a will... at odds with my own.

[Greeting lines]. Forgive me if I go on! You have done so much for me, I will not burden you with my troubles. Please, rest here as long as you wish. You are always safe here, my dear friend. You, who were there for me.

My guess is that the content that hasn't dropped yet will introduce either a new character/s in a sort of godly roles, or will explain the powers playing behind the wheel flowers and the Cycle.

• A light at the end of the tunnel (or something white/bright with a way to it?) is mentioned by both Spinning Top (at her ending) and the Prince (both as a flowerbud and in that first paragraph I copied up there).

I don't know what to do with this yet, I just found it interesting. Something something the white light within the Void Sea in the original game?

• ,,Outer Rim...?"

The Buddhist cosmology says the world is made out of 9 mountains (Mount Sumeru [the axis mundi], 7 golden mountain ranges and 1 outermost iron mountain range [maybe the withered buildings here are made of rusted iron, buried in stardust]) and 8 seas (7 freshwater and 1 saltwater), with 4 continents within the salt sea who's inhabitants each have a little something extra (except the South I guess, that's where *we* are. well apparently all Buddhas appear here actually, so you know. that's a something).

For an interesting example, the north continent called Uttarakuru is said to house the wealthy, owning no private property, where their food grows by itself and they live in the skies (Iterator cities, nudge nudge).

The name of this region could point to the Buddhist cosmological map being a physical fact for this world. I'd like to think that the dimension hopping aspect to the Watcher's worming through the space-time is at least limited to 4 continents(/realities?).

Also a fan fact: in Chinese mythology it is said the waters flow and stars fall slowly, because a water god with a bad tamper, Gònggōng, broke one of the pillars supporting the sky. Combining this fun nugget with the established lore in a pearl that everything is once eaten away by the Void down below, I'd say it is safe to assume on 89% that the dust mentioned in that pearl comes from the heaven itself and creates a sort of a cycle of the physical matter.

Suppose stardust is what creates everything, powers everything (just as is said in science). Suppose the Starcatchers are superstructures made for conversion of it into desired forms, these ones perhaps in the West of the world specifically, because of their circular shape.

(Meaning Signal Spires are perhaps of the South, while original game- aka Pebbles and Moon- are in the North of this world.)

• I find it fascinating and validating that Spinning Top needed some sort of an Embrace from one of the Five Urges/Hindrances (the third one, companionship) to be able to pass on.

It points to my idea of what the religion is Really supposed to be about: the Five Urges are what they are- urges- and they cannot run rampant. The point isn't to absolutely *eradicate* violence, pleasure, companionship, hunger and desire to live from oneself. The point is to be able to control these things and not cling on to them.

Because if one clings on to something, they stagnate, they cannot progress, they rot and they *fear* losing the something more than they can truly enjoy it or they get far too lost in it to feel it right anymore. To cling on to life means being afraid of taking risks, trying something new and really Living.

But now that doesn't mean going for the opposite is the correct way to go about it- that still creates a desire, a clinging- an urge for death is just as good as urge for life. It binds. It's extremism without careful consideration for what is really the best to do, feel and think in any given situation.

(This goes for love, too, it is GOOD to love, but going too far becomes unhealthy obsession instead of love. Going the other way results in hatred, another utterly useless and harmful thing to harbor. Same as indifference - that is stagnation again, that isn't picking up something, working with it to move forward. Love is a forward motion that is required, but cannot be overdone because as so it would be bastardized into something else, possessive and caging.)

Spinning Top could move on only when she knew that the flipside of the Third Urge- a sickening loneliness- wasn't something to fear anymore.

• Yeah, I don't think we can count on backgrounds too much when it comes to size calculating on the basis that they are probably shaped around gameplay. Specifically thinking about how the spinning top toy changes sizes between it's in-game model and the art. When it comes to Ancients, I'd say the best one can do is do what feels right.

• The Rot Prince is some sort of a boosted up Preta, I swear to heavens. Hungry guy. Maybe the Rot as a whole is a Preta stand in, just way more physical.

• Can't believe my ,,Respawning is real" headcanon has been officially given the thumbs down... The *Strand* Theory is real. (Even though DP is separate from the Watcher, this at least explains why Artificer didn't just go back to the last shelter she slept in when her cubs were still with her. They went to a different strand, where a different Artificer managed the situation better and we are stuck in this reality without them.) (We see them in her Void ending either because they are the one thing her heart wishes for [the Void gives comfort to those who are passing, as far as I am concerned], or because the Void is where all the reality strands and times coincide into one another.)

• On that note, no Fucking wonder the Ancients wanna bail - we don't really know to what extend they were aware of reality's unwounding nature, but assuming it is Pretty Thorough, I too wouldn't wanna live with the knowledge that in one reality I might've died on my loved ones, leaving them broken, while in the other everything is just fine and dandy.

The endless wondering of ,,Did I die in a different reality at any point in my life? Did I leave these people I love behind to hurt, alone, and I can't do anything to help them? I can never know, I'm not allowed to comprehend..." would slowly kill anyone with a heart, I think.

• I wonder if the Prince is a puppet/the Rot made itself a puppet, - because the Starcatchers were Iterator-esque biomechanications with a different directive than iterating on the Big Problem and this is a consumed Starcatcher (something about its budding dialogue feels to me like there was a sense of a Self beforehand that was drowned out by the Rot and then was pulled forward again with additions) - because the Rot is at the edge of the universe (humming a tune) where a messed up slugcat decided to start ripping holes in the reality, therefore connecting different strands including to places where the Rot already existed as a plague upon Some Iterator, which gave spark to sapience and inspiration to a new mind

• The new karma set is definitely a droplet and the ripples it leaves behind. Makes sense, too, there's more ,,movement" within it the more Spinning Top yanks the Watcher around in time-space (accidentally, I'd guess. or the ,,blame" is more on Watcher *somehow*), messing up their physical existence more and more.

Maybe the karma symbols or the imagery itself have something to do with a combination of an axis mundi and the strand form of existence.

Something about there being a main timeline in which each action and decision creates a new ripple, a new strand.

• I wonder if the Watcher could've come across Spinning Top and effectively latch on/follow her, - because they were already dead/echoed (the dream sequence upon reaching the final karma level could mean they did go to the Void Sea and swam pretty deep but turned back and that resulted in Echo-ification? then again why can a lizard bite me. Spinny's laughing at me for it. Goddammit.) - because of their nature as someone who's so damn hesitant about things, who hangs in the backlines, only observes and learns. Very Echo-esque personality - because of their desire to have someone there

• Just realized that we have a canonical design for Spinning Top's mask, hot damn. ,,How do children's masks look like?" answered.

I don't know why, that kind of creeps me out.

• The portals existing outside of us are made by Spinning Top, I'm pretty sure. She's always over them.

Is it normal for Echoes to leave tears like that? I think if the Rot Prince met her and knew she's the one who started this whole journey that resulted in him coming to exist as a consciousness and to bloom, he'd see her as a friend the same way he sees the Watcher.

• I wonder if his approach to the Rot Triple Affirmitive is ,,it's going to get worse before it gets better". He has suffered, too- while he normally speaks gently, calmly, orderly, when he is a flowerbud he seems frantic to me. Like someone breathing through death before getting better.

• Is the concept of the Rot Prince created for the first time in all existences' or is he a repeating pattern, too? The Rot in the least seems to be a pattern, because of what Spinning Top says when we meet her in one of the original regions, eaten through by the Rot.

,,You shouldn't have come here. It's too far." Does that refer to this strand's/ripple's distance from the axis mundi/the water drop creating all these realities? The further out the little wave carries out, growing smaller and weaker, the more rotten through it is? Is it because still water is stagnation, just as the Rot is?

So the Cycle is change and movement, life and love, that exists in a hurtful matter not out of its design, but because it has to contend with absolute stillness/stagnation/the Rot? Or it's all part of the same system, truly designed like this?

Could a Mass Ascension be seen as an escape plan from a ripple growing old? Man...

• A quick attempt at illustrating the previous thought:

Some Pepe Silvia level nonsense going on here.

[gloomwitchwrites]

(I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, but here goes nothing)

For Imagines and What Ifs, how do you think the 141 men would react to you wanting to keep your last name after you got married?

Would be they be chill about having separate names? Would they be hurt that you don't want their last name? Would they suggest a hyphenated last name as a compromise? Or (my personal fave) would they change their last name instead?

Greetings, anon! You absolutely submitted a request correctly! I adore this idea. I love thinking about any of these men as married men and what they're like in that regard. I can easily see this prompt having angst and fluff. What I would like to do is answer the last half of the prompt. Those are four distinct questions, and four distinct ideas, and I think each of them matches to one of the 141 guys in turn. That is how I would like to tackle this request (if you don't mind).

I'm sure my selections might not match up with everyone's opinion but that's why fanfiction is so wonderful. We can all have different ideas and HCs and they are all valid in their own way.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, fluff, light angst, married life

Word Count: 400

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You don’t want to take my last name?” He sounds hurt, and that breaks your heart.

“It’s not personal, Johnny. I’ve earned my title.”

“I know,” he says softly. “You worked hard. But—” Johnny sighs and rubs his chin. He glances away, clearly growing agitated.

“I love you,” you murmur, kissing his cheek.

Johnny melts a bit, kissing you back. “I’d like to call you Mrs. MacTavish.”

“And you can,” you reply softly. “Sometimes.”

“Like when?”

You need to turn his mood around. Leaning in, you playfully nip at his bottom lip. “When we’re alone. In the bedroom.”

Johnny grins.

John Price

“We need to talk about this, John. I feel like you’re avoiding the conversation.”

John’s tea mug pauses just before reaching his lips. “Avoiding what conversation?”

“About me keeping my last name,” you reply, crossing your arms

John sighs and places the mug on the counter. “You can do what you want.”

“Does it not upset you?” you ask cautiously.

“Not upset, love,” he says softly. “You’re a grown woman. I’ll respect what you want.”

You step up to him, one hand pressed to his waist. “Sure about that?”

John leans forward, stealing a kiss. “I’m more than sure, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I don’t want to change my last name, Simon. It’s…special to me.”

Simon stands stoic and calm. He understands. Names are important. They carry memory. Sometimes good ones. Sometimes bad.

“That’s your choice,” replies Simon slowly.

“You’re not upset?”

“I’ll respect whatever you decide.”

Your sigh of relief is soft and calming. This has been a burden for you.

“What if I take your last name?”

You frown. “What?”

Simon repeats the question.

“You want that?”

“I do,” answers Simon firmly.

Names are important. Names carry memory.

Riley is Simon’s father's name. It would be a relief to shed it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“How do you feel about a compromise?” Kyle asks softly. “Instead of us keeping our last names.”

It’s a conversation the two of you have had repeatedly after saying “I do.” You want to keep your last name, and while Kyle respects it, you sense he’s not entirely happy about it.

“A compromise? What are you thinking?”

“Hyphenate them.”

“Really?” you laugh.

“Yeah,” he grins. “My name first or yours. Doesn’t matter. A bit of both of us.”

You rest your head against his shoulder. “I can see it.”

“Be the same for our kids.”

“I like it,” you reply.

[hivemuthur]

In Thy Name - Ch.1. - Dark Entries

viktorxfemale!reader nothing filthy yet but will be :v, gothic AU

Reader is a highly renown linguist hired by Viktor, a paranormal investigator, for a case he cannot crack himself.

MASTERLIST next chapter ->

word count: 5,7K

author's note: Story time, it's boring, you can skip it. So: one day my cat dies. I start to write. Then, another day a person asks, can you write a Bridgerton AU? And I'm like yeh, sure, why not. It swells in my hands until I can't control it. From it blooms a crushing amount of beautiful artworks from you guys. Then, a person says, I like Victorian Era the most. The rest is history. I'm convinced that's how covid has started. If I ever end up doing a McDonald's AU hire a hitman and kill me painfully, make me fucking suffer. So, here you go, a gothic AU :') Playlist here! @rennethen and @mithrava thank you for beta-reading! And art, of course, by @cringemaster3!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Surrounded by the scent of dust and the faint aroma of melting wax, you lurk in the academy’s library. What was once a sanctuary of solace now fails to provide the comfort you so desperately seek. In your hands, an envelope rests—its paper crisp and unmoved, despite the wear of its long journey. The wax seal bears the mark of a sharp V, devoid of ornamentation, one corner slightly crumpled, though you are certain you are the only one to notice.

Hidden among the towering rows of books, you grasp a letter knife, its blade gleaming faintly in the light of the candelabras. You regard it as though it were a life you were about to claim— as if it were not merely paper that would yield to your blade, but something far darker, its insides spilling only words, no organs to be bled.

Wincing, expecting red to spill from its violently torn mouth, nevertheless, you open the letter, still unbelieving that the V might mean what your mind has conjured. The paper inside is equally crisp, as though it had arrived directly from the pocket it was kept in, folded neatly, and its bloody insides glare at you in sharp, elegant strokes of a fountain pen.

13th of October 1851

Greetings,

I trust this letter finds you in good health, though it is with some urgency that I extend my proposal to you. I have been made aware of your commendable accomplishments in the field of linguistics, and I am of the belief that your expertise would prove invaluable for a certain task that I currently undertake.

Should you be amenable, I wish to offer you a temporary contract under the following terms:

A fair monetary payment, the sum of which can be discussed upon your acceptance.

Provision of food and shelter for the duration of your engagement.

The understanding that your services will be required until the task at hand is resolved.

This offer shall remain valid for a period of ten days from the receipt of this letter. After this period, the proposition will no longer stand, and I shall seek other avenues to fulfil the task.

Should you accept, I expect you at your earliest convenience.

Yours sincerely,

Viktor Velesny

You read the letter thrice, your hands trembling ever so slightly as you unfurl its edges, the sharp, crisp folds of parchment yielding to your touch. The words blur, then sharpen in your vision, each stroke of ink etching itself deeper into your mind with every passing glance. The third reading is out loud, your voice sounding foreign to you, hoarse and thick from hours of silence in the library. You had feared opening it for seven days, dread mingling with an eagerness you could not wholly suppress. The envelope, now empty of its contents, still weighed heavily in your palm. With only three days left, you knew tonight was the last opportunity to make a decision. You could either close the book on it entirely or surrender yourself to whatever unknown awaited you at his mansion.

For days you had worked relentlessly, pushing your research on ancient Greek texts to its absolute limits, your fingers aching from the effort. But it had not been clairvoyance that drove you to finish; no, it was the whispers that travelled faster than any letter. Gossip—blistering, scalding gossip—had swept through the academic halls like wildfire, and the tale of Viktor Velesny seeking external aid, however vague and fleeting, had reached your ears before he’d even put ink to parchment. The notion of this strange request—coming from a man whose reputation already stirred both dread and intrigue—had made its way to you before you even realised it.

You pointed a figurative finger to three other colleagues, even though you knew, deep down, that this particular invitation would ultimately find its way to you. It had to. As it arrived, your heart quickened in a strange mixture of fear and excitement, your colleagues' inquisitive eyes watching, perhaps with the faintest trace of envy or disbelief. Some were astonished at your consideration, others appalled you hadn't immediately leapt at the opportunity. That look—the one that lingered long after they caught wind of this peculiar summons—reminded you of the well-known truth: people were intrigued by the unknown, yet they feared it just the same.

And Viktor Velesny? The subject of this gossip? His reputation preceded him like a ghost, each whisper darker than the last.

Some spoke of him as a conman, a trickster who built his name on the broken backs of others’ credulity. He was said to be a charlatan, one who sold illusions of grandeur, pretending at knowledge he did not possess, preying on those desperate enough to trust his word. He was known to swindle patrons with false promises, only to disappear as swiftly as he’d arrived, leaving behind a trail of victims too ashamed to speak of their losses. His name was tied to failed endeavours, to reputations destroyed, to whispered accusations of dishonesty that always seemed to vanish into thin air, just as quickly as they were spoken.

Others, however, viewed him as a mad scientist, a delusional visionary whose fevered mind spun tales of grandiose ambition. The more extreme among his critics claimed he was a man who flirted with the very edge of reason, throwing his humanity aside for the sake of uncovering the forbidden knowledge that could undo the natural laws themselves. His obsession with the occult, with science, with all things esoteric and unnatural, bordered on madness. They spoke of experiments gone awry, of strange and twisted works that few dared to witness. Was he truly a genius, or was he simply a madman too lost in his own pursuit of the unknown?

And then there were the darker rumours—the faintest voices murmuring of a man of no honour, a man who would descend into the deepest circles of hell to fulfil his sickening ambitions. Dangerous. Delusional. A man who had supposedly sold his very soul to the devil in exchange for powers beyond mortal comprehension. Few dared to speak these words aloud, for to do so was to risk their reputation—or worse, their very sanity. Those who whispered of his brilliance did so in hushed tones, almost afraid that the mere utterance of his name would invite calamity. Some believed he was more than human, that he had crossed a threshold no one should ever cross, and that to aid him was to invite a curse upon oneself.

Your cheek is relentlessly chewed, your lips reddened from being constantly pressed together as you try to read this mysterious man’s intentions, deciphering them only from the curvature of the letters he’s bled in ink. From what you can comprehend, this is a linguistic investigation into something he cannot complete on his own. The unknown time frames for the endeavour unnerve you especially, but what excites you—this feeling crowns over all others—is the challenge.

An opportunity like that comes perhaps once in a lifetime, and the thought of spending another couple of decades—if you were so lucky—waiting for another after letting this one slip from your grasp fills you with no hope.

With trembling fingers, you dip the pen into the ink jar and scribble only a few words, the quiver in your hand preventing you from writing more.

20th of October 1851

Dear Mr. Velesny,

I accept.

Yours sincerely,

Jane Hathorne

Your name is signed with a flourish countering Viktor’s reserve with letters. Then, you blow out the candles and call for a messenger.

***

You spend the following day wrapping up last-minute errands and packing your trunk. The woman in you mourns all the garments you cannot fit, while the researcher side scolds her, insisting on taking as many books and papers as possible. They eventually reach a compromise by introducing another trunk to your previously planned, limited inventory.

It is only when you are about to step into the carriage that one of your colleagues comes running into the rain after you. The sound of your name echoes across the academy courtyard, and a few heads twist on their necks as eyes snap and ears perk up, eager to drink in the latest gossip.

“Have I forgotten something?” you ask, startled.

“No, I—” John, one of the few souls kind enough not to talk behind your back, stumbles out of the building’s mouth, chasing after you as if his life depends on it. “Are you certain you wish to go?”

“Oh. Yes, quite certain.”

“What if—” He hesitates, eyes darting with concern.

“What if? Do you fear for my health?”

“I’ve heard terrible things about him, you know,” he says, voice low but urgent.

“You and me both,” you reply with a sardonic smile. “And great things. And absolutely ridiculous things. So, if half of everything is true, he adds up to an utterly mediocre man.”

John looks unsure, wringing his hands as the rain soaks his coat. “Will you write?”

“Weekly. I will,” you promise, forcing a more reassuring smile. “You needn’t worry.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but finally nods, his concern still written across his face. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a final nod, you step into the carriage, leaving behind the academy—and John’s worried gaze—just as the rain begins to fall heavier. In its warm cloister, you drown in what you do best—research.

The texts before you vary in nature, some profoundly enlightening, others more dubious in their claims. There are scientific treatises, dense and methodical, dissecting the latest advancements in physiology and human anatomy—works penned by Viktor himself, sharp and logical, written with a mind that had clearly observed and analysed the minutiae of life with a surgeon's precision. You find his approach to medicine both bold and exhilarating, especially in his attempts to bridge the gap between the known and the unknown.

Interspersed with these are his more obscure writings, some of which veer into the realms of the occult. One text, On the Nature of the Soul and Its Astral Travels, delves into theories of spiritual manifestations and possession—strange, perhaps, but compelling in its rational structure. Another, The Resurrection of the Dead: The Theory of Reanimation, blends pseudoscience with arcane knowledge, positing that the key to immortality lies in unlocking the hidden potentials of the human body, a claim that strains credulity, yet has an undeniable allure.

Alongside these, you pore over an assortment of occult texts that were allegedly penned under Viktor’s tutelage or at least influenced by his growing fascination with the supernatural. The Aether and Its Influence on the Material World, written in florid prose, is far less scientific than his medical texts, but nonetheless an intoxicating read. You find yourself drawn to the rhythm of the language, and even as you question the plausibility of the claims within, you cannot help but be captivated by the intensity of the author's convictions.

And then there are the darker ones—tales of demonology, possession, and the dead who walk amongst us. The Unseen World: The Threshold Between Life and Death is a chilling account of the various occult practices that Viktor had reportedly studied, exploring ghostly apparitions and the interaction between the living and the dead. Some of it makes sense, neatly fitting into the framework of what you know of the natural world. But others… well, they stretch the boundaries of reason so far that they threaten to snap.

What connects them all, however, is their sheer passion. The fervour with which they are written grips you, pulling you deeper into the labyrinth of Viktor's thoughts and obsessions. Whether grounded in science or swirling in the more dubious realms of the supernatural, each text is a window into a mind that pursues knowledge with an almost feverish determination, unafraid to venture into realms others might consider madness. You find yourself lost in them, turning page after page, unable to pull away from the intense, consuming brilliance that flows through every sentence.

Impressed, is what you are at first. As a linguist, of course, most of all, you admire his ability with words, drawing his reader right into the realms of his mind. Intimidated, comes second, as Viktor begins to grow in your thoughts into a man who will indeed stop at nothing to satiate his passion and curiosity.

One of the treaties bears a picture—it is a portrait of Viktor, you presume. His expression is intense, almost ferocious in its focus, the kind of look that suggests he is not just observing the world, but dissecting it with a hunger that goes beyond simple understanding. His eyes are bright, sharp, as if they could see straight through to the very marrow of things, and they stare out of the page with an unsettling intensity. His features are aristocratic—high cheekbones, a square jaw, and sharply defined nose with a slight curve to it. His dark hair is neatly combed back, but there is a wildness to the way it catches the light, as if it rebels against being tamed, much like its owner. Two dark spots mark his face, decorating his undereye, and oh—his lips. Those you don’t dare to look at for too long.

The portrait captures him in an almost unnatural stillness, the kind of quiet that precedes a storm. His posture is upright, rigid, a man of discipline. Yet, his hands—gloved, resting on a cane—seem poised on the verge of motion. The background is dimly lit, offering no distractions, leaving Viktor’s imposing figure to dominate the frame. The entire picture is bathed in shadow, except for a faint light that seems to follow the contour of his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features and the gleam in his eyes.

It's a haunting image. An impression of a man driven by something darker, deeper—an insatiable desire for knowledge, perhaps, or something far more dangerous. There is an undeniable allure in the way he is depicted, a magnetic pull that you cannot put a finger on.

You trace a gloved touch through the paper, trying to read more into it. Your heart flutters when the carriage jolts over a cat’s head, and the parchment falls from your hand. With your mind full of ideas and presumptions, you decide to lean against the window and spend the rest of your journey memorizing the images flashing past.

And those, too, grow progressively more unfamiliar. The landscape outside the window unfolds like a painting, drenched in the muted light of the fading afternoon. The sky, heavy with brooding clouds, casts a pallor over the earth, as though the very air trembles in anticipation of something inevitable. The fields roll in endless waves of withered grass, their once-vibrant green now a weary brown, hanging on to life with a final breath before the frost comes to claim them. The hills, distant and indifferent, stretch out like weary bones, sloping gently, only to fall into a vast, oppressive nothingness—a barren, lifeless expanse that stretches endlessly before you. The land seems to sag under its own weight, as if the very earth itself has given up hope, awaiting the final kiss of winter's cold embrace.

The gloom thickens, devouring what little warmth remains in the air, until the world outside becomes a blank canvas—void, desolate, and endless. In the midst of this eerie silence, a dark shape slowly begins to emerge on the horizon, its form rising like a spectre from the desolation. A shadow, strong and commanding, breaks the monotony of the emptiness—the shape of Viktor’s home. Its silhouette looms against the darkening sky, an imposing presence rising out of the desolation, a dark monument to something unknown. Its walls, heavy with the weight of secrets, stand like a watchful sentry, ready to consume you whole.

It stands alone—a place that seems to absorb the very light around it, as if it exists in a perpetual twilight. The closer it draws, the more foreboding it becomes, pulling you into its vast, dark heart. And as the carriage moves ever closer, you wonder if the land itself, stretching out in weary despair, is simply a reflection of what lies within.

Your chin slides off your hand as the carriage approaches the main gates. A tall, stiff butler steps out, holding a black umbrella, ready to escort you the ten steps that part you from your future. He keeps his gaze lowered as he walks toward the vehicle, opens the door for you, and—before greeting you—swings the umbrella open.

“My lady,” he says, bowing his head. “Allow me to escort you. Master Velesny awaits you.”

“Oh, I take it the messenger got here safely?” you ask, taking his hand as you step out of the carriage onto the muddy ground.

“Yes, and he arrived with haste, for which Master Velesny is grateful,” the butler replies with practiced politeness and signals to two young footmen to take care of your bags. “I see you come prepared, my lady. Allow the boys to handle your luggage.”

“Ah, yes, forgive me—I couldn’t decide which books would be useful,” you say, neglecting to mention that one trunk is, in fact, full of velvets, not books. “May I ask your name?” you say, craning your neck, trying to take the house in.

Beyond the rim, the mansion looms—a stark silhouette against the slate-grey sky. Its façade, once grand, is softened by time; ivy clings to the stone, withered by autumn’s touch, its skeletal tendrils retreating from the ornate window frames. The first floor boasts tall, pointed arch windows, their leaded glass darkened by the overcast day. Above, a row of smaller lancet windows punctuates the steeply pitched roofline, lending the structure a solemn air. At its highest point, a narrow tower rises—a third level in miniature—its presence lending the house an air of quiet vigilance rather than menace. A pair of weathered statues flank the entrance, their faces softened by rain and years, watching as you step forward.

“Certainly, my lady. My name is Algernon Griffiths, and I have been in Master Velesny’s service for many years.” Butler’s voice makes your head snap back. He talks with pride as the rain drums against the stretched black membrane, and ensures you remain completely shielded from the drops, though his own shoulder is undoubtedly gathering dampness. “I am at your service whenever you may need me as well.”

“Thank you, Algernon, that’s—” You pause as you both step through the main door.

The hall is… intimidating and impressive at once. Something vaguely unsettling nestles in your throat at the strange shadows cast by the flickering candelabras, and you notice that not all of them are lit. Some remain empty of candles, while others hold fresh, unused wax, presumably reserved for the evening hours. Yet even in the husky daylight of this gloomy day, the space remains dark.

The ceiling stretches high above your head, where a wrought-iron chandelier hangs, its spiked ornamentation promising a clean kill to anyone unfortunate enough to be standing beneath it should it fall from its hook.

A curved double staircase straddles the far end of the hall, its dark wooden steps worn down at the edges near the winding handrail. The floor beneath your feet is polished to such a gloss that every sound bounces off it. And indeed, it is not the beauty of this space that has made you gasp, but the suffocating silence that presses against your ribs like a held breath.

“Master awaits you in the study, my lady,” Algernon urges gently, noticing your hesitation. “I assure you that you will be given a proper tour of the house and introduced to all the staff, but I’m afraid Mr. Velesny has insisted on escorting you upstairs as soon as you arrive.”

“Oh, certainly. Forgive me, it’s all very—” You gulp down the stale air and force a smile. “Enchanting.”

He nods, unimpressed, passes the umbrella to a footman, and extends his hand, motioning you up the staircase.

Your footsteps echo as you ascend, the creak of the worn wooden steps swallowed by the hush of the house. The balustrade curves beneath your gloved fingertips, polished but old, its edges softened by time and touch. The hall above yawns before you, lined with closed doors and dim sconces casting long, flickering shadows against the wallpaper—dark green, its pattern faded, some places curling at the seams.

The air is scented with books, wax and smoke, as if the house itself has been holding its breath for years. Your skirt brushes against the wooden floor, and the fabric's whisper is the only sound apart from the occasional groan of the planks beneath your feet.

At last, you reach a heavy wooden door, already ajar. Inside, dim afternoon light filters through the tall window, throwing pale, skeletal patterns across the floor. The scent of parchment and ink lingers here, richer, untainted by the cold draft of the corridor.

Algernon knocks anyway, his knuckles rapping lightly against the wood. “Master Velesny,” he announces, “your guest has arrived.”

Viktor stands by the window, his back to the door, gazing out into the grey afternoon. He does not turn fully, only angles his head, revealing his profile—sharp, as you’ve expected.

“Thank you, Algernon. That will be all for now.”

It is the sound that catches you off guard—something neither his writings nor the picture you studied in the carriage could have prepared you for. Heavy, thick, a slow roll of his tongue as it wraps around the vowels, his accent settling into the room tangibly. It complements his visage perfectly, and suddenly, you are grateful for the house’s silence, allowing his voice to echo undisturbed.

With a polite nod, Algernon steps back, retreating down the hall. The door closes with a soft click, sealing you inside the study.

As soon as it does, his shoulders slacken, and he turns to face you. His hands, bare, rest atop the handle of a cane. His stance is uneven, weight shifted onto one leg, his hips set at an angle beneath a pair of tightly fitted high-waisted trousers. A ruby velvet vest, its surface pressed with winding patterns, hugs his chest, and beneath it, a crisp white shirt peeks through. No cravat, you note—his high collar instead nudges against the sharp line of his jaw.

His throat peaks from thick material—a long, pale column, crowned by a chin that hangs low from his cheeks. His face is all sharp planes and hollowed angles, the skin stretched over pronounced bones beneath deep, sunken eyes. His brows, thick and furrowed, lend him an air of permanent concentration as he studies you—or, at least, you presume that he does.

And his eyes—oh. No picture, dulled in shades of grey, could have prepared you for them. Two rings of amber glide over your body, sharp and bright, like mead set aflame. Embarrassed, you drop your gaze, and it lands on his leg, hugged tightly by a contraption of metal and leather.

You shift, rid yourself of your cape, and wrap it around your forearms, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of his gaze. If there are thoughts stirring behind those eyes, he does not betray them. His expression remains unreadable, sculpted into something close to stone.

"You took your time to reply," he says finally, blinking as slowly as an owl would. His voice curls around each syllable, daring.

"I... I had to run some errands before accepting," you reply, forcing yourself to maintain his gaze. Then, steadying your breath, you add, "I have met the deadline, have I not?"

"You have, for which I am grateful," he murmurs, his tone dipping lower. He takes a few measured steps toward you, graceful, you notice. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches for your hand, fingers cool as they close around yours. He lifts it to his lips, the warmth of his breath pressing through the fabric of your glove.

"It is a pleasure to meet you in the flesh, my lady," he mutters against your knuckles, eyes still locked onto yours when lips come to press against the thin leather.

"Have we met in the spirit, then, without my knowledge?" you ask, your voice lighter than you intend, a thread of uncertainty winding through it.

His lips curl into the shadow of a smirk. "Ah, if you wish to go that far," he muses, rising and tilting his head, yet not letting go of your palm. "I am familiar with your work. And if I allow myself some presumptions"—his thumb brushes briefly along the side of your hand—"such as this: if you are as meticulous in your spirit as you are in your craft, then I would expect you have done your share of research on me." His eyes glint. "Therefore, our spirits have met. Metaphorically, of course."

"Bold of you to presume this much, Mr. Velesny," you counter, though there is no denying the way his words have wound their way beneath your skin. Presumptuous and cunning, this man has your curiosity piqued.

"Have you expected me to be anything but?" His lips quirk at one corner, the ghost of amusement there before it fades into something gentler. "And please—call me Viktor."

You speak your name in response, and the moment it leaves your lips, his fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours. A slow squeeze. He smiles then, small but certain, as if tasting victory in the syllables.

Then, your hand is free, and Viktor turns toward the desk. Only now do you take in the room as it is—a cavernous space, dim, just as the rest of the house. Heavy drapes of deep burgundy frame mullioned windows, drawn back just enough to let in a reluctant sliver of day.

To your left, a fireplace yawns, unlit, its carved mantel adorned with a single brass candelabrum and a clock that ticks with an unsettling steadiness. The dark wood panelling along the walls bears the weight of countless bookshelves, their spines pressed tightly together, some worn to near illegibility, others pristine, their gilt titles catching what little light the room allows.

Viktor’s desk, positioned near the window, is a grand but cluttered thing—an ocean of scattered papers, maps, and instruments of his trade, the chaos strangely at odds with the meticulousness of the man himself. An oil lamp with a green glass shade casts a dull glow over the mess, illuminating the glint of a letter opener resting atop a half-folded letter.

A chair sits across from his own, clearly set for you. “Take a seat, please. This won’t take long,” Viktor says, gesturing with a tilt of his head. “You must be weary from your travels. I will leave the debrief for tomorrow, but I would like you to take a look at what we are dealing with.”

The we rings pleasantly in your ears—infuriatingly so—as you gather your skirts and lower yourself onto the chair. The leather creaks softly beneath you. Viktor does not sit. Instead, he leans over you, one hand braced on the cane, the other pointing a long, precise finger at the papers sprawled before you. His proximity is unexpected, his scent even more so—fresh, unadorned, untouched by perfume or powder. Like moss in an undisturbed forest. Freshwater drawn from a deep spring. Skin sunbathed and warm.

An insistent tap of his finger against the desk pulls you from your daze. You blink and focus on the papers. Letters—familiar yet unplaceable—are scrawled across countless sheets, some rough and uncertain, others more refined, as if Viktor had been attempting to capture them with increasing accuracy.

“This… looks like some proto-Slavic dialect,” you say slowly, tracing the edge of a page with your fingertip. Your brow furrows. “Forgive my bluntness, but have I wrongly assumed your accent to be Slavic?”

“Not at all. I am,” Viktor confirms, his voice smooth and clipped. His gaze flicks to the documents. “But this is no known language to me. I am at my wit’s end. Otherwise, I would not be calling for aid, as you may know.”

You nod, intrigued. “I have brought some books with me. We could compare sources tomorrow?”

“That would be perfect,” he says dryly, as if he’s expected you to do exactly that.

“How did you come across this?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“I was called upon for a job. Usual business. Seemed like a mediocre haunting at first.”

“Mediocre?” You tilt your head. “Are you truly this well-versed in ghosts, Viktor?”

His lips twitch, but it is not quite a smile. “Ah. By mediocre, I mean possibly a con,” he corrects. He shifts, standing upright again, his hands folding over the handle of his cane. “A family member trying to scare their relatives. A neighbour hoping to chase people away from valuable land. Hauntings of that sort are what I usually come across.”

“Usually, but not always?” you ask, studying him.

“Not always,” he replies offering nothing more.

“So… are you a myth buster, then?” you tease, watching him closely.

“No,” he says without hesitation, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “I am a truth seeker.”

His gaze is sharp—challenging—but something beneath it feels measured, a shield. You sense a restraint in him, a man who has learned to temper his own excitement, to speak in careful tones that reveal nothing. And you wonder—when was the last time he had the opportunity to speak with someone as an equal?

“But I suppose you have heard many names granted to me,” he continues, tone even. “A con man. A devil worshiper. A mad scientist.”

“I’ve also heard of your brilliance,” you offer quietly

“Ah,” his lips curve, knowing. You hope he doesn’t read it as a pity. “And which one do you think to be true?”

“I do not know yet.” You hold his gaze. “I suppose I will have to find out for myself?”

“That you will, hopefully.” He exhales, straightening, the flicker of an expression unknown to you vanishing as he retreats behind composure once more. “I shall keep you no longer. Algernon will give you a short tour and escort you to your rooms. Your luggage should already be there.”

It’s a gentle but firm dismissal, and soon after, Algernon returns, inclining his head and ushering you politely through the study door.

As he guides you down the dimly lit corridor, his steps are even, his voice smooth and practiced. “I shall show you the most necessary rooms first. There will be time for a proper exploration tomorrow, but for tonight, I believe you will wish to settle in, my lady.”

The first door he gestures toward reveals a vast library, lined floor to ceiling with shelves of aged leather-bound tomes. A single chandelier sways faintly above, its candlelight flickering against dark wood and gold filigree. A sturdy desk sits by the window, and near the hearth, two deep armchairs face one another, waiting for occupants who never came. The scent of dust fills the air.

Next is the music room. Though smaller than the library, it holds an air of quiet grandeur. A grand piano dominates the centre, its polished surface reflecting the dim light. A violin and cello rest nearby, their strings long untouched, and in the corner, a harp stands draped with a fine sheet, as if to protect it from time itself.

“The guest quarters are also on this floor,” Algernon notes, leading you past a series of doors. “Though I do not expect they will be occupied anytime soon.” He moves along without pausing.

Descending the staircase, the house’s shadows stretch in strange ways, the flickering sconces offering little comfort against the vastness of the halls. The dining room is stately yet stark—long enough to seat far more than its apparent master keeps for company. The drawing room, in contrast, is lived-in, with a decanter of dark amber liquid resting on a side table, books left slightly out of place on a chaise, and a few logs stacked beside the fireplace.

At last, Algernon stops by a set of wide glass doors leading into the winter garden. The panes are fogged, obscuring what lies beyond, but the skeletal shapes of vines press against the glass. “You may visit the garden tomorrow during daylight,” he says, his voice lowering slightly. “But not tonight. The day has been especially dark.”

His words are peculiar, but you say nothing.

When you come back one storey, Algernon points to another set of stairs, far less impressive than the main staircase. “The master’s chambers are upstairs,” he states simply, and you wonder why on earth Viktor would choose to climb two stories daily when he clearly uses the cane not only as an accessory.

As you continue, one door remains conspicuously closed, and Algernon makes no mention of it, his stride never faltering.

Instead, he turns to you. “The household staff is minimal but sufficient. A maid will attend to you in the mornings and evenings, should you require assistance.”

At last, he stops before your own quarters and steps aside, allowing you to enter first.

Your bedroom is unexpectedly inviting, with a large canopy bed draped in heavy fabric, its dark wood carved with intricate detailing. A fireplace rests along one wall, unlit, but stacked with fresh logs. A writing desk sits beneath a wide window, its curtains drawn, and across from it, a modest yet elegant wardrobe stands ready for use. A faint scent of lavender lingers in the air—perhaps a lingering touch from the maid who prepared it for you.

Algernon lingers just outside. “Dinner is served at six. If you require anything further, do not hesitate to ring.” A pause, then with a slight bow, he departs, closing the door behind him with a quiet finality.

And for the first time since your arrival, you are alone.

Wasting no time, you sit on the bed and kick your shoes off. You sigh deeply and heavily, stacking the events of today in your head. Viktor is... nothing and everything you expected. Driven, yes. Eager, even more than you anticipated. And still, he manages to remain reserved, as if torn between reaching out and closing in on himself. A sadness of some kind lingers around him, but you try to withhold your pity. Is he the demon they paint him to be, or the genius you wish him to be? You do not know, but you itch to find out.

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Part III

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: The unspoken line once drawn between Hawk and Pope is beginning to disappear. Word Count: 3,964 Content Warning: masturbation (m), typical Animal Kingdom warnings A/N: LISTEN we're starting to get into it and I've enjoyed the comments and messages I've gotten regarding this story so far. I'm rubbing my little fly hands together every time I read that someone has come over from The Pitt to Animal Kingdom territory. we're starting under a read-more because it is explicit right out of the gate lmao. Please comment & reblog :)

Pope tried to keep his grunting to a minimum, but the way his soapy hand glided over his cock as he watched Hawk in the pool from the bathroom window was too much for him this particular morning. The one way tint allowed him to look out without anyone seeing what he was doing. 

It wasn’t the first time Pope had taken advantage of this, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

The steaming hot water stung as it rained down on his freckled back. Pope braced his right forearm on the tiled shower wall, his face tilting into his bicep to smother some of the moans that tried to escape. Just the thought of Hawk taking his hand’s place was enough to send him over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck-” Pope groaned out through clenched teeth, his chest heaving as he caught Hawk climbing out of the pool just as his fist canted in time with his final thrust into his fist. White ropes of cum hit the wall in front of him in an orgasm that sent a shock through his entire body. He slowed his strokes as the last spurts of cum left him and his forehead came down to rest on his forearm that was still holding him up. 

It was one thing to recall Hawk’s face and body from memory while he was locked up, but it was another thing entirely to have her in the flesh as Pope jerked himself off.

Pope stood under the stream of water, giving himself a moment to bask in the afterglow before the shame of what he had done would inevitably set in. 

One day, he told himself as he sprayed the wall down to get rid of the aftermath that plagued his brain. 

“You gonna keep giving me the cold shoulder?” Hawk ignored Pope as she worked. That seemed to be her usual morning schedule that he took note of since he moved in with her -wake up around seven, go for a morning swim, do some work at home, go by the shop, then either go to Smurf’s or come home. Pope nodded to himself at Hawk’s deliberate silence, pursing his lips in mild irritation as he leaned over the island into his forearms. “I was out of line,” He admitted. “and I apologized to the kid -we’re square. It won’t happen again.” 

“For your sake, it better not.” Hawk didn’t look up at him as she continued to type. Her fingers hit the keys with more force than was needed, an indicator to Pope that she still wasn’t happy with him. He leaned down on the counter next to her and got her attention.

“I’m sorry.” He dragged out. 

“You’re sorry?” Hawk asked with a less than impressed expression when she finally gave him her attention. 

“I didn’t realize how close you and the kid were. Now that I know, it won’t happen again.” He explained as if that excuse was valid in any way, shape, or form. Whether Pope was genuine about what he was saying was something else entirely and Hawk didn’t really give two shits in that moment. She spoke her piece the night before and the emotions she was currently feeling were the aftermath of that. “I mean it.” Pope pushed. Hawk held his eyes for a few moments before nodding and going back to drafting an email to a potential client. Genuine or not, she had to let him know she meant every word that she said the night before. 

Pope opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He untwisted the cap with a loud snap and continued to watch Hawk as she worked. She ignored him as he paced the length of the kitchen, only glancing at him when his back was turned. Hawk tried not to let her eyes linger on the tight muscles of his shoulders as he moved his arms, and she definitely didn’t let her gaze fall further south. Definitely not. She quickly brought her eyes back to her laptop as he turned around.

“What the hell is this?” Hawk tried to keep the irritation out of her voice when Pope tossed a very obviously thick envelope on the island in front of the laptop. The sound of the envelope slapping against the granite startled her, the loud crack reverberated up to the tall ceilings. 

“It’s for you.” He said with a nonchalant shrug, leaning his back against the counter where he was previously.

“Yeah, I get that,” Hawk shut the laptop closed and carefully peeled the flap open. “But why is there like,” She looked inside the envelope tentatively before looking back at Pope, “-ten grand in here?” 

“There’s twelve. I figured that should cover the rooms and gas over the last three years, and to cover some stuff while I’m here.” He shrugged again, like this twelve grand was nothing, but Hawk knew this wasn't nothing. This was a whole lot of something, and she wanted nothing to do with wherever it came from. “You’ve sacrificed a lot for me. It’s only fair that I return the favor.” Hawk stood and rounded the corner to Pope’s side of the kitchen. 

“I’m not taking this, Pope,” Hawk handed it over to him, but he crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. The muscles in his arms bulged, nearly distracting Hawk. “I’m serious. I’m not taking this.” She smacked the heavy envelope on his forearm, but he didn’t budge. Hawk sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger as she placed the envelope on the island. “I didn’t do any of that with the expectation that you needed to give me something in return, much less twelve grand, Pope. That’s insane.” Hawk hissed, though not angrily. Oh no, this was out of complete befuddlement. 

“Then why did you do it?” He stepped towards her, his arms dropping to his sides. Hawk nearly tripped over her own feet as she backed up with every step Pope took forward. “Why are you still doing it?” 

“Because I care about you.” Hawk said it like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I’ve always cared about you, Pope.” 

“Like you cared about Julia?” There was a brief pause. Hawk’s heart felt like it was beating in her ears as her eyes locked with Pope’s. 

“No.” She breathed out. 

“Is uh…everything alright?” J’s hesitant voice cut through the tension and Hawk met his alarmed eyes from where he stood in the entrance to the hallway. He must’ve just woken up, or he had been listening the whole time and felt this was the appropriate time to step in for Hawk. 

Pope didn’t budge and kept his gaze on her. 

“Everything’s fine, J.” Hawk’s voice cracked as she placed a hand on Pope’s chest to gently push him back, but he held her hand to his chest, right over his heart. His callused thumb rubbed gentle, soothing circles over the back of Hawk’s hand, and still his eyes never left her. 

J did not like what he was seeing the second he stepped into the kitchen, dragging his feet and rubbing his eyes only to be faced with Hawk and Pope inches away from each other, locked in a very intimate conversation that he couldn’t hear from the other side of the room. And suddenly, as if a lightbulb went off over his head, J understood why Pope treated him the way he did. Sure, he was suspicious of J, but deep down Pope felt jealousy. Territorial might be the better word for it. The pieces were fitting together and J didn’t know if he preferred getting his ass beat by Pope or seeing Pope look down at Hawk like she hung the moon and the stars in the sky. J cleared his throat, feeling incredibly awkward. 

“Just two adults trying to have a conversation, J.” Pope’s voice held a little bite to it. 

“I’m uh, I’m gonna go to Nicky’s and then head to Smurf’s. Do you need anything from me before I leave?” He left the question open on purpose. Did she feel safe? Would she be in danger if he left? J didn’t think he could do much damage to Pope, but he could distract him long enough for Hawk to get out of the house if he had to. 

“Everything is fine, J. Tell Nicky I said ‘Hi’.” J nodded, still unconvinced. 

“Alright,” J nodded, still apprehensive. He hovered for a few more seconds before walking past Hawk and Pope to the entrance way so he could slip on his shoes. Hawk watched J until the door closed behind him, then brought her attention back to Pope. She brought her other hand up and cupped his jaw, her thumb rubbing at his cheekbone just under his eye. Pope leaned into it, his eyes finally closing as he took in the feeling of her palm’s caress. 

“I’m serious about the money, Pope.” Hawk’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “I do appreciate the gesture, but you don’t owe me anything and you’ll never owe me anything just because I care about you. I want to make that abundantly clear. I’m not transactional.” Pope brought his forehead down to rest on hers in a brief moment of uncharted intimacy. The line that had never been crossed between them was starting to become muddy, unknown territory and it scared the absolute hell out of Hawk. 

She took that moment to slowly pull back from Pope, gently removing her hand from his that was still on his chest and face. The loss of his warmth, and the strength in his hands alone was noticeable immediately. Could you crave someone’s touch when that touch was only just given to you? Hawk felt like she was losing her mind, her world going just slightly off kilter and Pope…Pope was trying desperately to hold himself together. He licked his lips anxiously and finally took a step back, allowing them both to breathe. 

“Smurf wants us at the house later for lunch,” Pope mentioned once the dust had settled, making Hawk’s eye twitch. “I’ll drive.”

“I cannot tell you how good it is to have you around again, baby. I’m hoping you’re here for good this time,” Smurf eyed Hawk as she helped the matriarch put lunch together for the boys. All of the brothers, Baz, and J were outside roughhousing in the pool. Hawk felt on edge, knowing how rough the brothers could be and how J would be their target. “Being around you has been good for Pope since he got out of prison. I’ve noticed a change in him.”

“Yeah, it’s good to have him out.” Hawk responded nonchalantly as she finished slicing through the sandwiches she was assembling. 

“You know what I mean, baby. Everyone can sense the tension between you. You’re telling me it’s completely one sided?” Smurf raised a brow, pouting her lips as she pushed some kale and bananas into her blender. Hawk sighed, slicing through two more sandwiches before looking up at Smurf. “Give me a break.”

“I don’t know what you think is going on there, Smurf, but nothing has happened. Nothing has changed between us.” Hawk definitely did not like the way Smurf was being pushy about this. Smurf didn’t have a genuine bone in her body, so when she pulled a pill bottle and set it on the counter, Hawk knew where all this sweet talk was going. “What is this, Smurf?”

“I trust you, Hawk. We may butt heads from time to time, but I know you’re sharper than a whip. Always have been.” Smurf pushed the bottle until it was directly in front of Hawk. “Pope is…struggling. I know you see it. He was outside, naked and howling at the moon the first night he was out. He has some difficulties with certain things and these help even him out. I can’t trust anyone but you with this. You care about Pope, I know you do, and you care about him deeply. You’re protective of him and I couldn’t be more appreciative, baby, which is why I need your help with this.” 

“You’ve been giving these to him?” Hawk breathed out, a very bad feeling filling her stomach. 

“I try to, but it seems he’s been spending more time at your place than he does here as of recent, so I can’t get him the doses he needs on a steady basis.”

“So you want me to give these to him?” Smurf opened a second bottle from where she grabbed the first and popped two pills out. She crushed them on the counter and tossed the powder into the blender that had one single serving of the smoothies remaining inside. Smurf put the lid on it and then set it to blend for a few seconds before shaking the last bit into an empty glass that was just out of the group of five other glasses. “Does he know you’re doing this?”

“He’s not the biggest fan of taking them, but it’s a necessary evil, Hawk. He’s his own worst enemy when he’s off the meds.”

“I don’t know how comfortable I am with this, Smurf.” That was a lie. Hawk knew exactly how uncomfortable this made her. Did Pope need some type of medication intervention? Maybe, but that should be something that he decides to do, not his mother, and definitely not hiding it in his food like she’s trying to medicate a dog with a pill wrapped in a piece of cheese. The whole thing felt bad and weird, and Hawk knew immediately that whatever Smurf was doing wasn’t to help Pope. If anything it more than likely just made him more agreeable to whatever fucked up bullshit Smurf wanted him to do. 

Smurf was wrong in trusting Hawk with this. It could’ve been a test, Hawk thought to herself. It didn’t matter to her because there was no way in hell she’s actually go through with this. And if Smurf thought Hawk would, then she was more clueless than Hawk ever thought. The matriarch of the family was right about one thing, though -Hawk was protective of Pope (despite his altercation with J), and that protection was usually against his own family. 

“He can become very dangerous without these.” Smurf switched to a fear tactic. “I’m not saying he’d ever hurt you, but sometimes he does things without knowing he’s doing them. This medication stops that. You’re the only person I can trust with this, baby.” Smurf repeated. She picked up the bottle and placed it in Hawk’s hand. Put these in your purse.” 

There was no way Hawk would do this. No way in absolute hell. Pope trusted her, and she trusted him, and there was no way she’d do anything as nefarious as spike his food because it made him more agreeable. Still, not wanting to rock the boat with Smurf, Hawk merely nodded and stuffed the bottle into the bottom of her purse just as Smurf told her to. 

“Good. Knew I could count on you.” Hawk nodded again, clearly lost in what to say after that revelation. “Now, back to the conversation at hand.”

“Nothing is happening between us, Smurf.” Smurf laughed, grabbing all of the smoothies in her arms to carry outside to the boys. To Pope. Hawk knew she should’ve done something, anything, to stop Smurf, but what could she do? Any kind of push back from her was just as good as spitting directly in Smurf’s face. It would be an offense that Smurf would not let flow under the bridge and Hawk knew that, so she did nothing except watch Smurf leave the kitchen with the glasses in her hands -ultimately powerless. 

“Then maybe you should be the one to initiate, hm?” Smurf suggested as she picked up the tray of sandwiches and walked through the slider to the back yard. “It’ll be good for the both of you, baby. You know where his feelings lay. It’s hardly a secret. Bring the sandwiches out with you!” 

“Jesus Christ, Pope.” The man in question was bleeding from his nose when Hawk finally made her way out to the patio. She set the platter of sandwiches down on the table and grabbed a towel off of a chair, then hurried over to Pope. 

“I’m fine,” He brushed her away gently, glaring down at J. Hawk smacked his hand away when he tried to push her hand down from going up to his face. “J just got a little overzealous. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Stop,” Hawk demanded, dabbing at the blood. “Tilt your head back for a second to stop the bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” Pope replied dryly. 

“Let her take care of you, baby.” Smurf called over with a big ol smirk as if to say I told you so. 

“Let her take care of you, baby,” Craig mocked, Daren laughing next to him as they sat at the table and started making their plates. 

“Enough, idiots one and two.” Hawk snapped and grabbed Pope’s hand to bring it up to hold the towel to his face. 

“That was very unkind of you, Hawk!” Craig called back, a shit eating grin ever present on his face. 

“Ignore them.” Pope said softly for only Hawk to hear. 

“Just give it a minute, alright?” Pope raised a brow, but nodded to get her to stop fussing. When Hawk was satisfied, she walked back into the house to wash her hands in the kitchen sink. She needed a moment to collect herself and the kitchen gave her the much needed respite from the knowing looks she was now recognizing from the rest of the family every time she made eye contact with them. 

As Hawk turned around, drying her hands on a clean kitchen towel, she screamed, clutching her chest. 

“Jesus fuck, Pope! You’re going to kill me if you keep doing this!” She smacked him lightly on his bare chest with the towel before tossing it onto the island. Hawk took a breath to try and calm her pounding heart, but the proximity of Pope was stifling. “What’s up?” He didn’t say anything as he caged Hawk against the sink. 

Hawk’s eyes were about to pop out of her head at the invasion of her personal space. The coverup she wore over her bathing suit felt like she was wearing a parka in the California sun with the way she was flushed from head to toe. His chest was nearly touching hers and Hawk was sure that Pope could feel her heart pounding as her eyes unintentionally connected every freckle on his chest until her eyes met his.

Pope kept his eyes on her, watching every little move she made as Hawk attempted to process what he was doing. Without losing eye contact, Pope raised his arms and turned the tap on behind her. 

“Just gotta wash my hands.” Hawk swallowed thickly, sweat rolling down her neck and between her shoulders, causing goosebumps to break out over her whole body as Pope’s arms flexed around her. He somehow stepped closer, the entire front of his body pressed against hers with one of his thighs nestled between hers. Hawk’s hands instinctively came up to grasp around Pope’s very naked, thick, muscular waist. The contact was electric, like a current shot from his skin to hers and she didn’t realize she was holding her breath until-

“-Oh!” Smurf’s voice cut through the tension. Hawk felt the air physically deflate from her body, but still Pope didn’t budge an inch. Hawk felt her face get hot, red hot, and embarrassment at getting caught like she was a teen all over again swept through her. “Just pretend I’m not here. Grabbing the rest of these,” Smurf grabbed a tray with condiments. “You lovebirds better join us soon.” Smurf said, just to stir the pot. With that, she was back out of the slider, leaving an irritated looking Pope and a panicked Hawk. 

If Hawk could’ve dissolved into a pile of ashes, she would’ve. 

If Pope could’ve killed his mother right then, he would’ve. 

Hawk was the first to break contact. She gently pushed Pope away just far enough to duck under his arms and took off through the slider without a word, mentally berating herself for letting Pope drive them both over instead of just taking her own car. 

Pope watched her go, the phantom feeling of her body pressed to his was seared in his memory. The lingering heat didn’t do anything to stop the tug in his stomach when he saw the panicked look in her eyes as she fled. He brought his wet hands up to his face to cool himself down before he faced her and the leering he’d get from Smurf outside. 

The ride back to Hawk’s was…silent. She could feel Pope’s eyes on her as he shifted his attention between the road and her. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” The irony of Pope himself sounding uncomfortable was not lost on Hawk. They were stopped at a red light and Hawk was fidgeting with her hands just like she did on the fist visit to Folsom. She was nervous and he didn’t like that at all, especially when that nervousness stemmed from him. “I’ve clearly overstepped-”

“I care about you, Pope. Believe me, I do.” Hawk’s thoughts went back to that pill bottle that weighed her purse down like it was made of lead. 

“You’ve said as much.” He referenced their conversation from earlier that morning. The same conversation that didn’t give him an answer to what was going on between them. Twice Pope has tried to initiate, and twice he was unsuccessful. 

“I just…there are a lot of moving parts here.” 

“What are you afraid of, Hawk?” The light turned green. “Unless I’m reading this wrong, which I don’t think I am by the way, there’s something here. We’ve been tiptoeing around it, but it’s still there.”

“I’ve been on the outside of all this, Pope.” This meaning his family. “My life has remained mostly unaffected by whatever jobs you guys are pulling and I’m afraid that this is going to open a door I want to stay shut.” Hawk explained. “I’m not ignorant to what you guys do, why you went to prison. My rule of thumb has always been to not ask questions and don’t comment on any of it, but I know. And right now I’m breaking my own rule and I’m going to ask one question, Pope.” Hawk looked up from her hands to look at Pope. The truck was climbing the steep driveway to Hawk’s home and he nodded as he put it in park once they reached the outside of her garage. “Has he been involved in any of this?” Pope knew she meant J. 

“Who? The kid?” He played dumb and shook his head, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Pope.” She pleaded. 

“He’s not involved, Hawk. You said not to involve him, so he’s not.” She analysed Pope’s features, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. She didn’t think he would have any reason to lie to her, but he was a naturally hard to read person and he was also a Cody. “J’s good. With all of us.” This seemed to lift a visible weight from her shoulders. “He spends more time at girlfriend’s house than he does at Smurf’s anyway.” It was a believable lie, that much Pope knew, and Hawk seemed to accept it as truth. She would find out the truth eventually, and Pope would cross that bridge when he got to it. 

“Okay.” Hawk nodded, looking into his eyes once more before she hopped out of the truck and waited for Pope to follow her into the house. 

The second the door was closed, Hawk was on him. 

please comment & reblog :)

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Astrology Observations: 😯😬😵‍💫Your Insecurities Based on Your Rising Sign 😥🫣🫤

Disclaimer: I recognize that there are individuals who may not concur with my posts, and I appreciate that perspective. I, too, do not always align with certain astrology content. However, if the information does not resonate with you, feel free to disregard it. My approach to astrology is intuitive, and I do not adhere strictly to conventional guidelines. I extend my gratitude to those who find value in my posts. 💘

Pisces Rising: Individuals with Pisces Rising often experience insecurities regarding their sexual performance, perpetually seeking ways to enhance their abilities. This drive for improvement can lead to feelings of inadequacy, particularly when their partners do not reciprocate their high levels of desire. Additionally, the yearning for a romantic relationship may be concealed, stemming from the belief that no one can truly match their emotional intensity, which can result in an apparent avoidance of love despite a deep longing for it. There may be a tendency to suppress one's true self or to hold back, even when the desire to express oneself fully is strong. Furthermore, these individuals might grapple with insecurities related to their achievements, feeling compelled to outperform others to validate their worth. This can create a cycle of self-criticism, as they may believe they should be achieving more or operating at a higher level. In social contexts, they might feel the need to associate with those they perceive as weaker, fearing that being around more powerful individuals diminishes their own strength. This dynamic can lead to insecurities regarding power relations and their role within various social groups. Consequently, they may strive to stand out, which can sometimes result in conflicts with others, further complicating their relationships and fostering a sense of instability that threatens to undermine their connections.

Aries Rising: You may experience feelings of insecurity regarding your desired form of affection. Your self-imposed standards are exceptionally high, leading you to believe that you must conform to a specific image in order to be worthy of love or the finer aspects of life. Additionally, there may be significant concerns about your physical appearance and how others perceive you, which can result in a strong tendency to please others. Despite being in a satisfactory position, you often find yourself feeling inadequate about your status, and you may overanalyze your financial situation due to a fear of scarcity. Furthermore, you might struggle with feelings of insecurity related to your organizational skills. Your meticulous nature may cause frustration when you realize that your methods differ from those of others, leading you to feel as though you complicate matters or operate at a slower pace. You may also grapple with insecurities regarding your intellectual capabilities, particularly in terms of how quickly you grasp new information. Additionally, there may be deep-seated wounds related to rejection that hinder your ability to initiate communication with others, making it challenging to establish connections. This tendency to take considerable time to make decisions can be exhausting for those around you, potentially leading to insecurities about how you are perceived by others.

Taurus Rising: Your insecurities are primarily linked to your professional life and career trajectory. You often find the process of job hunting or establishing a stable career to be challenging, leading to concerns about job security, a lack of consistency in your career path, and not receiving the job offers you desire. Additionally, there may be insecurities related to your academic performance, as you might have faced difficulties in achieving the grades you aspired to. Beyond your career, you may experience a sense of instability in your life, which contributes to feelings of insecurity regarding stability. Furthermore, you might feel more at ease around strangers than with acquaintances, indicating a lack of confidence in familiar social settings. There may also be an internal struggle regarding how you allocate your energy, as you might feel compelled to transform your hobbies into professional endeavors, leaving little room for leisure. This internal pressure to excel can hinder your ability to dedicate the necessary time to develop skills in a craft or hobby, as you are constantly driven by the need to perform at a high level. Additionally, there may be insecurities surrounding love; you might grapple with uncertainty about identifying your soulmate due to your fluctuating feelings. This can lead to doubts about your partner, as you may feel that someone better suited for you exists, resulting in insecurities in your dating experiences. You may find yourself questioning the adequacy of your partner or feeling that they are too exceptional for you, contributing to an overall sense of insecurity in your romantic life.

Gemini Rising: Your feelings of insecurity are closely tied to your interpersonal relationships. You may struggle to connect deeply with others, making it challenging to lower your defenses and cultivate the social circle and relationships you desire. Additionally, you might feel uneasy about others perceiving your emotions, which can lead to discomfort. Insecurities may also arise concerning your family dynamics; you might perceive your parents, siblings, or relatives as sources of embarrassment, or you may find yourself comparing your life to theirs, whether favorably or unfavorably. Furthermore, you may experience insecurity regarding your sense of stability, as your thoughts and sense of self often seem to shift, making it difficult to establish a solid place in the world.

Cancer Rising: Individuals with Cancer Rising may experience feelings of insecurity regarding their appearance. While there is a desire to stand out, there is also a tendency to adhere to trends and conventional standards of attractiveness, leading to a reluctance to deviate from the norm. Additionally, there may be concerns about personal image, resulting in a need to be perceived positively, which can sometimes lead to inauthenticity. This individual may also grapple with a desire to excel in all endeavors, often engaging in comparisons with others that can foster negative self-perception. Furthermore, there may be apprehensions related to financial status, as there is a strong inclination to project an image of financial stability, which can become a source of insecurity if one's bank account does not reflect that ideal.

Leo Rising: Individuals with Leo Rising often experience insecurity that stems from their self-image and self-perception. They may find it challenging to break free from the expectations of a particular persona, leading to difficulties in expressing themselves authentically. This internal struggle can create a mental confinement, as they grapple with the notion of who they believe they should be. Frequently, they may feel insecure about their communication skills, believing they do not articulate their thoughts as intended, or they may dwell on perceived mistakes, leading to self-criticism. Additionally, they might exhibit frugality, restricting their financial freedom, which can heighten feelings of insecurity when in the presence of those who are more financially secure. Concerns about their physical appearance, particularly regarding body image and weight, may also contribute to their overall sense of insecurity, as they tend to focus on attributes that others may consider normal.

Virgo Rising: Your challenges primarily stem from decision-making. You often experience uncertainty regarding past choices, leading to feelings of regret and self-reproach for outcomes that did not meet your expectations. This hesitation can manifest as an inability to make decisions, resulting in prolonged periods of inaction due to a persistent fear of making mistakes or facing unfavorable results. Additionally, there is a notable insecurity in your interpersonal connections; you may find yourself overthinking situations, particularly when you have feelings for someone, which hinders your ability to engage with them. Furthermore, you may feel a compulsion to maintain a fashionable and youthful appearance, leading to moments of self-doubt regarding your looks if you do not adhere to a specific aesthetic. This can complicate your search for a life partner, as the fear of making an incorrect choice weighs heavily on you, compounded by your sensitivity. Your insecurities are also deeply intertwined with your fears.

Libra Rising: Individuals with Libra Rising often experience insecurities rooted in the fear of not achieving the success they aspire to. They tend to be overly critical of themselves, believing that their sincere efforts are insufficient or inadequate for reaching their goals. Additionally, they may find it challenging to navigate their lives and the underlying issues, leading to insecurities that remain unaddressed, akin to an unspoken problem. A desire for control may also contribute to feelings of insecurity, particularly in relation to others who exhibit strong personalities or egos. Furthermore, emotional insecurities may arise, prompting them to suppress their feelings, which can result in a sense of aloofness and detachment, leaving them feeling misunderstood by others. There is also a sexual insecurity present, characterized by apprehension towards exploration or tension surrounding intimacy, which can hinder their ability to connect with their partner.

Scorpio Rising: Your feelings of insecurity are closely linked to your lifestyle choices. You frequently find yourself comparing your life to that of others, leading you to believe that you ought to be achieving more or approaching life differently. There is also a sense of insecurity regarding your productivity; you may perceive that you are not accomplishing enough. Despite your efforts, you often wish for greater energy, similar to what you observe in others, and this can leave you feeling as though there is always more to be done. This perpetual dissatisfaction may stem from a desire for something beyond your current circumstances. Additionally, you might experience insecurity regarding your tastes, feeling that you should possess a more refined and diverse appreciation for various items and styles. This can lead to feelings of inadequacy if you believe your preferences do not measure up. Finally, you may grapple with the notion that many aspects of your life are transient. You long for joyful moments to remain constant, which can intensify feelings of insecurity during challenging times, as you feel pressured to maintain a cheerful demeanor.

Sagittarius Rising: It appears that you may often grapple with feelings of inadequacy. Your underlying insecurity stems from a persistent sense that you will never achieve true contentment with what you possess. This may be attributed to your exceptionally high standards, which often lead you to become your own harshest critic. Consequently, you may find yourself excessively critical of your own actions, amplifying your feelings of insecurity. Additionally, you might perceive yourself as overly serious about life, contrasting with a desire to project a more carefree demeanor. This ambition can sometimes feel burdensome. Furthermore, you may experience insecurity related to your responsibilities, feeling overwhelmed by the demands placed upon you, which can exacerbate your self-doubt. A lack of self-discipline may also contribute to feelings of being out of control. Lastly, financial concerns may weigh heavily on your mind, leading to a constant worry about not having enough resources.

Capricorn Rising : Individuals with Capricorn Rising may experience feelings of insecurity regarding their interests, often grappling with a sense of being out of place and a desire to fit in. This can lead to a perception of standing out in a negative way. There may be a multitude of ideas swirling in their minds, yet doubts about the practicality and feasibility of these ideas can create a sense of frustration. Such individuals often possess a heightened sensitivity to their surroundings, feeling as though their true selves are not fully understood by others. Additionally, there exists a profound yearning for an alternative lifestyle, making it challenging to accept the constraints of reality and the limitations it imposes. Intellectual pursuits may also be a source of insecurity, as they may feel inadequate in their knowledge and continuously seek to learn more, driven by a desire for empowerment. This can manifest in feelings of inadequacy in academic settings or in comparison to those perceived as more knowledgeable. Furthermore, there may be difficulties in forming genuine connections with others, leading to a sense of isolation. Some may find solace in online friendships, yet still harbor doubts about the authenticity of their relationships in the physical world, questioning whether their real-life connections are meaningful or fulfilling.

Aquarius Rising: Individuals with Aquarius Rising may experience feelings of insecurity related to a sense of not belonging in various environments, leading to doubts about their place in the world. In a professional setting, one might feel out of sync with colleagues, perceiving themselves as underperforming in comparison. This can result in persistent self-doubt regarding their capabilities, fostering a belief that they are slower or less competent than others. Such feelings may culminate in an inferiority complex, where one believes that everyone else excels while they fall short, leading to a pervasive sense of inadequacy. Additionally, there may be insecurities regarding one's life path, often feeling misguided or misunderstood. This can manifest in a struggle with self-identity, as individuals may feel that others do not truly understand them. While they possess the ability to make others feel at ease, they may grapple with their own discomfort in social situations. Furthermore, insecurities may arise from the perception that the energy they invest in relationships is not reciprocated, leading to concerns about whether others are as supportive as they are.

[befemininenow]

Everything. Easier said than done.

That's the reality a lot of trans people face when coming out. Sure, you may get a lot of praise from friends, colleagues, and strangers for coming out as trans and that's very valid. But what about close family members, friends, or family? While you can easily dump transphobic people out of your life like taking out the trash on garbage day, it's a different story when that transphobe happens to be a parent or a spouse. And that sucks more than somebody in a GH (IYKYK).

I wrote that previous sentence because it's easy to see why I see so much NSFW shit in here. A lot of us are either still deep in the closet or have not been fully out to close ones because even though it's been easier to come out and transition, there's also been an unfortunate increase in homophobia and transphobia these past few years. Sometimes, we can't even be out in the comfort in our own home. As a result, the only time we can express that feminine side of ours without facing negativity is through the internet. These safe spots is where we can express our fantasies and desires to the point where they can be explicit. While a lot of these themes resonate with a lot of us, it also leaves us in a vulnerable state.

Recently, there has been drama on the MTF subreddit regarding sissy content, something that has always been banned in there as far as I know. The problem is, the moderator that enforced the sissy ban has also been connected with 4tran, a site that only validates trans girls who meet questionable criteria, such as transitioning at a younger age under hormones, consider themselves straight, and a bunch of other nonsense. To them, even admitting to being into feminization caption content to cope with their identity prior to coming out "invalidates" their identity because of the NSFW content that is so common in this scene. After being around in these scene for years now, I think I can say that we should be free to explore our kinks without feeling invalid of our identity.

Look, there will always be people who equate trans women with sissies, the latter being associated with a crossdressing male. That is the point I'm trying to make with this caption. No matter how much you do to become a bombshell babe like the woman in the pic, they will always categorize you as a "man". Unfortunately, there's nothing you can do to persuade those a-holes, even if you look like her. Let them live in their world of hate. But while you do see some trans women promoting their content on femboy and sissy spaces, there's a very high chance they're doing this to fund for their transition and/or basic cost of living. Often times, it's for a need of validation of being seen as a girl due to a hostile environment that misgenders them. That doesn't make them any less of a woman, cis or trans. Remember, trans women are not sissies!

While a lot of us do like to make captions expressing our need to take hormones, doll ourselves up, have sex with men (or women), or get SRS, it's also important we educate ourselves with the pros and cons of each act before we actually act upon them. Seriously, take these captions with a grain of salt. Not every caption will speak for you and me. You don't have to fulfill an explicit act if you're not attracted to men. Fulfill what your heart and mind truly desire, as long as you play it right.

If you made it this far into my rant, I'm very happy you took the time to read it. If not, that's okay. As long as the caption caught your attention, that's all it matters to me. Even if you're not fully out, at least this small free time of entertainment can help persuade you to make big choices in the future. After all, Flashback Friday isn't always going to be nostalgic, but it also helps us make a better future for ourselves.

[drunkkenobi]

Hi bb, ty for the prompt to write my thoughts!

So I can't get on tumblr at work anymore unless I go outside to get good signal on my phone so I have only been privy to what's going on here today from friends on discord. So maybe I'm missing some nuance or the what my mutuals think and I apologize in advance for that but I'm going to speak plainly.

This is the only way Watcher is going to survive.

The view counts have been steady through Mystery Files season 2 but they aren't, like, astronomical. A video with a million views nets a channel between $10,000 - $30,000. Guys. That's nothing for Watcher. They have to pay each of their 25+ employees a salary with insurance and benefits and for everything else their channel requires. Steven said in the video today that a season of Ghost Files costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. I don't think everyone is hearing that part and understanding how much money that is, especially compared to many other YouTubers they watch. I'm not an expert on other YouTubers but I look at the Sims people I watch. They are successful with views in the hundred k range because they are a company of one. Themselves and maybe paying a freelancer to help edit their videos. For one person, the stakes are lower and the potential for profit is higher! Especially for gamers that are filming in their homes. YouTubers like this, making niche content on the cheap, are who is going to make it in YouTube now.

Watcher is none of those things. They have, from day one, wanted to make high quality unscripted content. All of their shows are shows. They aren't just "Ryan and Shane do [thing]" or "Steven eats [whatever]". They are shows, like ones you see on cable TV or any streamer. And shows are not cheap. Unscripted is cheaper, sure, than scripted. But that doesn't mean cheap. Especially not with the sheer production value we've seen on all their shows, in particular Ghost Files (hundreds of thousands of dollars). That is how much something like Ghost Adventures costs, which is on Travel Channel, an actual TV network that puts up all those costs.

So. That's why Watcher has to pivot to survive.

I think it's a great idea, personally. And yes, I am in a position where I can financially afford it no problem, which I know is a privilege! I am very lucky in that regard. And I understand that many people are upset they won't see the boys as easily on YouTube anymore. That is valid! But they have openly said they are totally fine with password sharing and I think that's a great way to cut down on costs for some folks. Also right now there's a great deal on the yearly sub for early subscribers. $40 for a year is cheaper than any streaming service and it doesn't go to anyone other than Watcher.

I understand that people feel hurt and blindsided, but I think Watcher is also feeling this too. They have been so excited about this and being able to make whatever they want without having to worry about sponsors and now they're mostly seeing anger directed their way. Especially at Steven. Steven is not rich. You know who's rich? David Zaslav, a man who is single-handedly ruining Warner Brothers and making himself a billionaire while he's at it. THAT is the kind of person we should be directing our anger at streaming prices and quality of the media landscape at. Not one small business that is just trying to survive so they can continue paying their employees.

And one more thing. I've seen folks saying they'd rather watch more ads than pay and while I get that, that's not going to help Watcher make what they want. YouTube famously demonetizes videos with swears which is why I can't watch a video with DRAG QUEENS without every other line being bleeped and Watcher has been so good about not bleeping their content because they know we would hate it. And YouTube does this because of advertisers. Advertisers only want to appeal to the most broad of audiences so that means not supporting anything slightly left of center. Having to deal with ads sucks from the creator perspective and does not help them in the long run.

Anyway, this is all a bit rambling, but these are my thoughts on WatcherTV. I'm extremely excited to subscribe and make them make more Weird Wonderful World. I hope to see you all there.

[lua-magic]

Eighth lord and what you need to let go!

Eighth lord first house: Don't be self obsessed, and let go of all "emotional blockages" that you are holding.

Eighth lord second house: Though you will get wealth but don't expect much "family support" let them go..

Eighth lord in the third house: you are perfect, no need of any validation from any one, "stop making decisions to please others". You are your own support.

Eighth lord in the fourth house: Your house environment may not be the most favorable ones, but the best decision you can make is to distance yourself from your mother land.

Eighth lord in fifth house

Your love life may not be the perfect fairy tale, so let go of any expectations that you hold regarding to your prince charming.

Eighth lord in sixth house

I know your brain loves to fight with everyone and blame everyone for how much wrong they did to you, you could spend the whole day thinking the world is a "shitty place, but then don't complain about being"lonely as well. Detach from every one and take care of your dreams .

Eighth lord seventh house:

Think a hundred times, sorry thousand times before getting married or being in a relationship or partnership. Don't be suspicious or jealous just free them and be detached.

Eighth lord eighth house:

Stop wasting your sexual energy, instead use to become more emotionally strong and physically strong, your super power is your sexual energy. You keep wasting it, you keep losing

Eighth lord in the ninth house.

Let go of any expectations regarding the "father figure in life" stand and find out things by yourself.. Your detachment with religion would not help you much, instead I insist instead of learning religion from someone's mouth, read religious books.

Eighth lord in tenth house.

You are not made for a 9 to 5 job, find out your hidden talent and skills and develop it.

Eighth lord in eleventh house

Friends are not for you, so let them go, and instead focus on growing yourself emotionally and spiritually.

Eighth lord in twelfth house :

You always feel "alien" in this World, because you are an "aliens" you are not for this World, just here to finish your " pending karma" so treat everyone as your karmic and keep moving on in your life. Don't be attached.

"protect your energy".

If you like my content then kindly think about supporting me financially.

Below is the link of my pay pal account.

Your support would be highly appreciated 🙏.

[butterfluffy]

heard u were writing for haikyuu againnnn sooooo can i req ushiwaka as a bf?? maybe hcs or a short scenariooo

thankieeesss!! 🥰

·ू♡°.· { - as your bf ! }

content ! ౨ৎ — (HQ!!) | what would it be like having ushijima wakatoshi as your boyfriend? | hcs

pairing/s ! ౨ৎ — ushijima wakatoshi x gn!reader

tags/warnings ! ౨ৎ — none! just pure fluff and ushiwaka being the bestest boyfriend he could ever be. not proofread, so, typos and errors are present but i'm too lazy to deal w them... lowercase intended!

a/n ! ౨ৎ — AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH MY MANZ USHI. 😍🥰💗😍🫰😘😘😜🫰💗🤪 (i'm absolutely normal about him guys, i promise.) | requests are open!

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI as your boyfriend!

okay, i won't lie nor try to defend ushijima. he's totally clueless about relationships and dating. 'cause girl, all that's in his head is... well, volleyball....

but of course, for the sake of the headcanons and our delusions, let's break down how he would be as a lover.

i feel like ushijima would be a shy (or awkward, rather) lover at first, hesitating with initiating PDA or affection in general.

will explode red and flush with his face hotter than himself when kissed all of a sudden. don't take him by surprise! it's bad for his heart that would definitely explode from beating too fast and loud in his chest!! he's shyyyyy!!!

just give him time. he'll warm up soon enough to when he's finally comfortable with holding your hands! ..without his own sweating and turning colder than ice from tension and awkwardness, that is.

“...sorry. are my hands cold and sweaty? you can just cling into my arm if it's uncomfortable to hold hands with me.”

and as said on the first bullet, he has zero clue about romancing, so, you'd be the one in charge of it; making the first move in everything.

but despite that, you can teach him how to romance! he's a rather fast learner, as long as you teach ushiwaka everything that he needs to do or what you want him to do for you.

in no time, you'll find yourself to be greeted by the man on your doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates, and an invitation to go out on a date. ;)

“you mentioned that going out on dates every once in a while is important, no? so, let's go out? i also bought you flowers. your favorite.”

ushijma wakatoshi, though known to others as someone who is pretty stoic, is actually a real softie lover! w⁠(⁠°⁠ｏ⁠°⁠)⁠w

though outside, he's aloof, inside, however, is a different story. ushijima gets all clingy with you, not lasting a minute without you being in the same room as him.

“where were you? ...oh, in the bathroom? i see. i thought the monster in the closet that you claimed to see last night took you. kidding.”

LOOOOVESSS seeing you watch him play in his matches. he claims that whenever you watch him, he suddenly gets even more confident in his play. shows off a lot whenever you watch too.

“did you see me play? did you see my spike?” “yes toshi, you did great. very cool.” “*smug* i know i did great out there, because i knew you would watch.”

AN ABSOLUTE SUCKER FOR YOUR PRAISE AND VALIDATION!!!! spread the word, guys. ushijima wakatoshi loves getting praised. just love him. please. he'd melt. flushed cheeks and all that shii. though most of the time, he gets a little smug about it... don't worry, you can wipe it off with a kiss. he'll go redder than the blood that is rushing in his veins. 😜

he also becomes such a yapper as your relationship with him goes on. telling you about his day, volleyball practice, more volleyball stuff, training, etc.

he won't shut up, ong. 'cuz he's an awkward weirdo who may be on the, erm, spectrum and won't shut up about his hyperfixations. ehem, volleyball.

even though he's a yapper, he's also a listener! 10/10 would listen to you talk the whole day because he loves it when you yap to him. actively listens, reacting to your words here and there and giving his thoughts on them, yadayadayada. yapper x yapper, guys???

regarding the relationship, however, ushijima is a very private person. only a few knows that he's dating someone already, as he doesn't actively tell people that “oh, i'm in a relationship.”

i feel like he'd only reveal that he's in a relationship when asked... so, his mother found out that he's finally dating like, almost a year into the relationship. 'cuz he never mentioned it. and when his mother pointed that out, he retorted with, “you never asked?? 🫤🤨”

additionally, he strays away from social media. so, people really wouldn't know unless they ask. they'd just be shock to see a ring on ushiwaka's finger one day lmao.

^^no posts on his socmed accounts at all. faceless and full government name on his account and with less than 50 friends. only has social media accounts for the sole purpose of messaging and liking your posts.

still, he's updated with the latest trends and news, if you update him, that is. ushi will also participate in doing the trends with you. a lil' stiff though, but he's trying, yeah. no complaints at all.

“huh? i... i don't understand. what is ‘throw it back’ and how do i do it?”

ANYWAY, ushijima isn't really one to do endearments. be calls you by your name or a nickname he came up with. sometimes, you'll hear him call you “love” or “babe”.

there are also times that he gets insecure all of a sudden and begins to question if he's doing a good job on being your lover. would slightly panic if he feels that he's not doing enough. please assure him that he's doing amazing. 😞

during arguments, he talks things through. does not dare raise his voice. well—there are times that his voice gets a little loud, but he feels absolutely guilty and shitty after, so he apologizes.

and yes, he apologizes first, and even though you are the one at fault. doesn't like getting on a fight with you, so... 🤷‍♀️ but he does try to make you realize your mistake and hope to not start another argument while doing so. he'd get upset if that happens.

when upset, wakatoshi does not stay out of your sight, but, he's there. in the corner, sulking like a child in silence, looking at you with longing in his eyes, waiting for you to either woo him or for himself to not handle it anymore and apologize then cling to you once more.

doesn't say ‘i love you’ much. but he'll reciprocate each and every ‘i love you’ that you tell him! on rare occasions, he's the one saying ily first, especially when he feels that he's not saying the words much.

“baby?” “yes, wakatoshi?” “i love you.”

K BYE THAT'S ALL, I DON'T WANT THIS TO GO ON UNTIL 100 BULLETS, Y'ALL MIGHT SEE THROUGH HOW MUCH I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN. 🏃‍♀️💨💨💨

© butterfluffy 2025

⠀⠀꒰🌷꒱₊ likes, comments, and/or reblogs are highly appreciated! i love reading comments and reblog tags/notes, hehe. (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The first days of Boss Politics Antitrust

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

"Boss politics" are a feature of corrupt societies. When a society is dominated by self-dealing, corrupt institutions, strongman leaders can seize control by appealing to the public's fury and desperation. Then, the boss can selectively punish corrupt entities that oppose him, and since everyone is corrupt, these will be valid prosecutions.

In other words, it's possible to corruptly enforce the law against the guilty. This is just a matter of enforcement priorities: in a legitimate state, enforcers prioritize the wrongdoers who are harming the public the most. Under boss politics, priority is given to the corrupt entities that challenge the boss's power, without regard to whether these lawbreakers are the worst offenders. Meanwhile, worse wrongdoers walk free, provided that they line up behind the boss.

This is how Xi Jinping prosecuted his purges in the run up to his lifetime appointment as Party Secretary (2012-2015). Xi prosecuted the guilty, but not the most guilty. The public officials who were defenstrated and/or imprisoned during Xi's purges were all corrupt, but they were also the power base of Xi's rivals. Meanwhile, corrupt officials in Xi's own orbit were untouched:

https://web.archive.org/web/20181222163946/https://peterlorentzen.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Lorentzen-Lu-Crackdown-Nov-2018-Posted-Version.pdf

Trump is a classic boss politician – that's what people mean when they call him "transactional": he doesn't act out of principle, he acts out of self interest. The people who give him the most get the most back from him. This means that Biden's brightest legacy – militant antitrust enforcement of a type not seen in generations – is now going to become "boss antitrust," where genuine monopolists are attacked under antitrust law, but only if they oppose Trump:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/12/the-enemy-of-your-enemy/#is-your-enemy

We're now living through the first days of boss antitrust. Remember all those monopolistic tech billionaires who donated millions of dollars to Trump's inauguration and arranged themselves in a decorative semicircle behind him on the dias? Trump just went to Davos to speak up for them, arguing that EU and other offshore prosecutions of these companies were attacks on "American businesses" and saying he would defend them with the full might of the US government (this is the same government that, under Biden, secured multiple convictions against these same companies for monopolistic conduct):

https://gizmodo.com/trump-returns-big-techs-ass-kissing-at-davos-2000554158

The Federal Trade Commission has lost its Biden-era chair, the extraordinary Lina Khan, who did more in four years than all her predecessors did in the preceding forty years, combined. The new chair is Republican Andrew Ferguson, whose first day on the job was a bloodbath, in which he killed off multiple, significant actions aimed at producing real, material benefits from Americans who are being absolutely screwed by corporations:

https://prospect.org/politics/2025-01-24-executive-action-reaction-day-4/

Ferguson killed off a public comment process on "surveillance pricing," where companies spy on you and then reprice their goods based on their estimation of how desperate you are:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/11/socialism-for-the-wealthy/#rugged-individualism-for-the-poor

Uber pioneered this when they started increasing the cost of cab rides for riders whose phone batteries were about to die. But other companies took it way further: McDonald's is co-owner of a company called Plexure that sells companies the ability to charge you more for your normal order at the drive-through if you've just been paid:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again

But surveillance pricing is even worse for workers than it is for shoppers. Nurses in the USA increasingly work for Uber-like nurse-on-demand apps like Shiftkey, Carerev and Shiftmed. These apps can buy nurses' financial data from the unregulated data-broker industry, and then offer nurses with overdue credit-card bills lower wages, on the grounds that they're so desperate they'll take a paycut:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/18/loose-flapping-ends/#luigi-has-a-point

Ferguson also killed off a notice-and-comment action on predatory pricing – when companies sell goods below cost in order to destroy competitors, then drive up prices. This is what Uber did, setting $31b of Saudi royal money on fire over 13 years, losing $0.41 on every dollar they brought in. This killed off all the regular taxis, and convinced city governments to abandon public transit investment on the grounds that Uber was cheaper than a bus. Once they'd captured the market, Uber doubled the price of a ride and halved the wages that they paid drivers.

So this is what Ferguson has killed off. In its place, Ferguson has instituted an internal action, aimed at rooting out "DEI" and "wokeness." The agency's top priority right now is running a snitch line where FTC officials can rat each other out for being anti-racist. This isn't just offensive, of course – it's also deeply unserious. Even if you stipulate that "woke" has some meaning (it doesn't, but go with me here), then killing off all the "woke" at the FTC will not make Americans more prosperous, let alone protect them from corporate predators.

In his dissenting statement, FTC Commissioner Alvaro Bedoya didn't mince words:

Andrew Ferguson could have made his first public act as Chairman a motion to study the rising cost of groceries. He could have acted on a pending public petition from a group of wall and ceiling contractors to investigate how lawbreaking contractors can effectively rig contract competitions in the commercial construction industry. He could have moved to investigate a pending public petition from shrimpers from Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama to investigate potentially false and misleading claims about shrimp imports from India that are farmed with forced labor and shot full of antibiotics…

I have met with corn growers and cattlemen in Iowa. I have met with shrimpers in Biloxi. I have met with pharmacists in Knoxville, grocers in Tulsa, and patients and their doctors in Charleston, West Virginia. I met with the men who build Miami’s million-dollar skyscrapers in 110-degree heat.

Let me tell you what they didn’t talk about: “DEI.”

What they do talk about is how powerful companies are skirting or abusing the law to force farmers, workers, and small businessmen to do what they want, when they want, or else. How the government isn’t doing anything about it. And how they’re going broke because of it

But Chairman Ferguson seems uninterested in the challenges that regular human beings face.

https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/bedoya-statement-emergency-motion.pdf

Bedoya is still hanging in there at the FTC; these administrative agency appointments outlast the presidents that made them. It's common for agency heads to step down when there's a changeover – Lina Khan didn't stay – but the commissioners often hang in there. I hope Bedoya stays at the FTC: he's one of the good ones and we're all better off for his presence.

There's one Biden agency head who hasn't left, and surprisingly, it's one of Biden's best appointees: Rohit Chopra, head of the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau. Chopra is the first CFPB head to explore just how much power this new-ish agency has, and has seen his far-reaching, muscular regulations upheld unanimously by the Supreme Court.

Trump's corporate backers hate the CFPB, and Elon Musk really hates the CFBP, and crypto grifters really, really hate the CFPB. Ironically, the demonization of the CFPB seems to be the key to Chopra's enduring tenure. According to David Dayen at The American Prospect, no one in Trumpland wants his job. The Supreme Court ruled in 2020 that presidents can fire CFPB heads, but there's no one who wants to replace Chopra and take their turn in the barrel:

https://prospect.org/economy/2025-01-24-rohit-chopra-still-has-a-job/

Chopra's using his time well: he's brought a flurry of new actions, most lately against the credit bureau giant Transunion. And in the final weeks of the Biden administration, Chopra launched a whole boatload of enforcements, investigations, and other actions against the most predatory companies in America. As Dayen notes, over the past four years, Chopra has forced American rip-off businesses to pay back $6b in stolen loot, and to cough up more than $3.2b in fines.

Replacing Chopra is hard for Trump in part because Trump has imposed a federal hiring freeze. That means that anyone who replaces Chopra has to already be working for the US government, and all the finance grifters are cashing out of the government to go work for giant financial institutions they've been carrying water for while drawing a public salary. Even the people who might take the job can't, because then no one could be hired to do their job – for example, there's a ghoul at the FDIC who'd fit the bill, but if he takes over from Chopra, then the FDIC will have just two members. If the GOP stooge on the FCC quits to take the job, then the Democratic commissioners will have a majority. You love to see it, really.

But – as Dayen points out – they're almost certainly gonna give Chopra the axe eventually. When they do, the CFPB will continue to do some enforcements. It's likely that Ferguson will eventually direct the FTC to do something apart from peering under their beds looking for "woke." When they do take action, they'll probably take action against companies that are wildly, lavishly corrupt. After all, that describes basically all of American big business, a sector that has festered thanks to 40 years of antitrust negligence.

It will be tempting for Trump's opponents to decide that if Trump hates these giant, evil companies, well, then, they must be good. Think of when "progressives" fell in love with the "intelligence community" just because a couple spooks decided they hated Trump. The FBI isn't your friend, folks – this is the agency that tried to blackmail MLK into killing himself:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FBI%E2%80%93King_letter

The enemy of your enemy? Still your enemy, provided that they're a big, predatory monopolist. Boss politics is about punishing corruption – selectively. Trump-style antitrust is going to target a ton of bad businesses. That won't make them good.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/24/enforcement-priorities/#enemies-lists

[jimblejamblewritings]

On Wyll and Astarion

This is actually not going to be about fandom racism in regards to Wyll or a content comparison (although those are very valid posts that should always be looked at). I was thinking about why in canon of the game, no matter what some people insist, Astarion and Wyll hit it off right away and are very good companions. Like they should have a constant distaste of each other as monster vs monster hunter but they don't.

I think it's because Astarion sees his mortal self in Wyll and Wyll very quickly understands how Astarion became the person he is today because it's a path Wyll is starting to go down. Follow me...

I don't think Astarion was a corrupt magistrate. Personally, even if a particular scene involving Ansur didn't lend evidence to my thought, I would still think this. Corrupt magistrate becomes monster and learns better after being abused is so boring. Tired trope, yawn, next. I think it's compelling if Astarion did his job perfectly. Not that he was a good person -- he's perfectly normal in his mortal life, not too good and righteous but not bad either. And that's the problem.

Astarion as a magistrate refuses to let his personal anecdotes, life experience, or bias enter his courtroom. He's there to administer the law and that is all he will do to a fault. He cannot be swayed by anything even when he probably should. If it is against the law then it is against the law. He will dole out the proper punishment and that is that. If you want to appeal then you do it through the proper legal system and he will hear you out because that's his job. But he doesn't want to hear anything outside of that.

(more below the cut)

You stole bread to feed your family? Petty theft and not malicious, pay a fine or spend a few days in jail. You broke something in someone's store but can prove it was an accident? Buy the broken item and the store owner needs to get out of his court. You think someone stole your customers through defamation of your business? No proof, no witnesses, then he doesn't care if your ledgers show a significant drop right when the other business opened. A follower of the law so rigidly that it's a fault.

However, in most cases, people that come into his court simply complain and move on because he's never been corrupt. Until the Gur and Cazador. The Gur have been noticing their children going missing and have great reason to believe it's Cazador. (Astarion isn't Cazador's first spawn but one of his firsts so probably the 2nd or 3rd spawn created so all the children being taken are from the one or two spawn created before him).

Astarion agrees to listen to their case because missing children is a big deal. Both the Gur and Cazador are in court but Astarion doesn't give a shit about the tense courtroom, he will have decorum and they will get to the bottom of this. But there simply isn't enough proof that it is Cazador. There's not really any proof aside from the missing children. Astarion won't simply dismiss the case because there are still missing people but he won't call for the arrest of Cazador either. He tells the Gur to come back with stronger proof of either Cazador or the real criminal if not him and he will listen. He tells Cazador that he isn't off the hook just yet but not about the Gur... about potentially incorrectly filed ledgers.

Cazador knows between the Gur on his trail and Astarion's intense way of being a magistrate that he might get caught. But he knows how to kill multiple birds with one stone. He needs to be rid of the Gur on his trail in court, he needs to stop any looking into his ledgers, he needs Astarion gone, he also needs a new spawn now to continue his ascending plans and -- well -- Astarion happens to be a very pretty elf.

So, Cazador lets one Gur child go. Except they're enthralled. They tell the Gur all the lies Cazador wants them to believe, including that Astarion is being paid off to hide the crimes of who stole them. The Gur know where Astarion lives. It's not exactly a secret because he has no need to keep it a secret. So they attack him for what they (understandably) believe he has done. They leave him for dead in his home and get out before anyone can notice and send for city guards. They're sure he'll bleed out with how badly they mangled him.

That never happens. Cazador was simply a street away, waiting for them to leave. He needs Astarion to invite him in to turn him. But in the elf's state of delirium from the attack and the bloodlust, he doesn't even register how it's suspicious that Cazador doesn't just help him right away but has to ask can he come in and help him. Astarion unknowingly invites him in and invites the bite. This also colors why he's so rude about the Gur. Yeah, it's a bias and a prejudice because as far as he knows, they jumped him for nothing and are horrible people.

Fast forward through the years of abuse and lack of autonomy all the way up until the nautiloid. Astarion has learned that following the law exactly got him in this mess. Being a good person isn't real because good people (like Cazador who saved him) always want something and will turn bad in the end. Not a single god, good or evil, cared to help him so he should stop praying. And punishments don't always fit the crime -- down to the fact that some people get punished for a crime they never committed -- therefore all criminals should be punished to the highest degree to deter them and others.

When he meets Wyll, the only thing he can see is an idealistic version of his mortal self. Wyll is so determined to bring justice, serve the law to criminals. While Wyll is more into the good and heroic of it, they both had the same goals. Except Astarion already knows how that ended. Yet, Wyll is so sure of himself and optimistic that Astarion can't help but like him even if he no longer believes in any of those things.

Then we have Wyll who we already know has similar views to mortal Astarion. And in real time, we see Wyll learn the same lesson Astarion did all those years ago in regards to Karlach. Really, Wyll learned this lesson awhile ago when his dad cast him out but he was so young and didn't see it as such. But in reality: Mizora is his Cazador. His Dad is his Gur. And becoming a tiefling/devil in looks is his vampirism.

Wyll's entire world view is shattered when he spares Karlach. He understands Astarion now. But also, a beauty of it is that Wyll will never get as dark in his thoughts as Astarion because he has the vampire. He sees Astarion improve and start to somewhat believe in his old mortal view through this adventure with their companions who are trying their best. He sees Astarion accept that good does exist in the world every time Tav/Resist!Durge refuses to give up on him. And Wyll knows that it means he's right. Good and heroism does exist and because of that Wyll can start to accept the shit that happened to him because he already has confirmation that he'll be fine and make it out in the end.

And I really like that so many of the companions are mirrors to each other or puzzle pieces for each other. The way Wyll and Astarion work is one of my favorite companion mirroring.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

✨️💎Jupiter and the signs💎✨️

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

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💎Masterlist💎

♣︎Jupiter in Aries: They tend to be more enthusiastic, assertive, energetic, and full of ideas about how to initiate, promote, or expand ideas. You can also be more stubborn and very persuasive in getting people to embark on your plans and ideas. As Jupiter represents the principle of growth and the notion of something higher, the actions of those born under the influence of Jupiter in Aries can lead to personal development more easily.

♣︎Jupiter in Taurus: indicates a predisposition to use money and material resources correctly and beneficially. Jupiter in the sign of Taurus has a strong tendency to attract wealth and have a good sense of the value of things. Those who obtain it like to enjoy material comfort, good food, various forms of art and the good things in life in general. They appreciate what is good and what has personal value, even if it is expensive.

♣︎Jupiter in Gemini: they tend to be intellectually curious, they can read a lot or be that type of person who is always on the Internet looking for new information, news, curiosities and teachings. Their curiosity can be aroused in different areas, so they tend to be mentally restless and enjoy movement. Valuing communication is an essential part of those who have this position, for example Working in the communication industry, whether with journalism , advertising, public relations or tourism.

♣︎Jupiter in Cancer: these individuals focus on family experiences, knowledge base, past and personal roots. The place where they belong and call their own, is also a place where friends and acquaintances can find greater comfort in case they have problems guiding the course of life. There is a desire to create a safe, comfortable, friendly, welcoming and prosperous family environment that can also be used for educational and fun activities.

♣︎Jupiter in Leo: Optimism, generosity and a kind way of being are highlighted. You tend to like to be admired and valued. Jupiter in the sign of Leo brings the tendency of leadership. Its natives generally arouse enthusiasm in other people, and therefore have the potential to be good leaders. The generosity, firmness and reliability of these natives stands out.

♣︎Jupiter in Virgo: The person will care about the details and the precision of his behavior. It influences the person to appreciate the details, the kind that he can do a lot with a little. They have a superior, prudent, intellectual, analytical and practical nature; They differentiate what is essential from what is not essential, truth from fiction, what is valid and what is not. Their judgment is generally excellent.

♣︎Jupiter in Libra: They are people who tend to worry about the moral principles that guide society, their unions and their interpersonal relationships. Natives with Jupiter in Libra believe that love and justice can create a much more harmonious social order, being more generous people and, for this reason, more popular and loved. These personal characteristics can make them develop activities related to the public. It is not uncommon for people with this position to be attracted to becoming diplomats, salespeople, presenters, etc.

♣︎Jupiter in Scorpio: tends to have a greater appreciation for everything that is hidden, secret. They like to investigate and delve into other people's minds, as well as more ethereal topics, such as death, the occult and religion, for example. Jupiter in Scorpio can discover secret information about the private affairs of others in an extremely natural way. People have the potential to become more resourceful and have very strong and resolute opinions regarding their beliefs.

♣︎Jupiter in Sagittarius: One of the main interests of those who have Jupiter in Sagittarius is higher knowledge. Topics such as philosophy or religion, education and foreign cultures have a lot of meaning and are appreciated. They tend to choose their own system of thought that will govern their behavior and the way they view life. This is the type of attitude that can earn a person the respect and admiration of others in many situations.

♣︎Jupiter in Capricorn: You can demonstrate greater economic or political responsibility, being prudent, cautious and trying to be fair in your judgments. For people with Jupiter in Capricorn, management, status and recognition tend to gain more importance. Due to Characteristics such as ambition, patience, administrative ability and the wisdom to deal with the resources acquired throughout life, those born with this position generally manage to save money and own property.

♣︎Jupiter in Aquarius: they tend to enjoy interacting with people of all classes, races or creeds, without much distinction or prejudice. They tend to be more tolerant and understanding, recognizing more easily that everyone has their place in the world and that in all positions there are lessons to learn. Jupiter in Aquarius are more likely to engage in philanthropic activities aimed at helping others.

♣︎Jupiter in Pisces: they tend to be more emotional, understanding and endowed with a greater sense of compassion. Having spiritual or philosophical convictions, with this positioning, becomes more possible; People can develop a more comprehensive, universal and fulfilling spiritual understanding. Because of this greater search for elevation, they tend to eventually enjoy moments of isolation, becoming more introspective. By meditating, you can better develop this intuition and renew yourself spiritually.

[vanivanvanilla]

been thinking recently about ccs in fandom spaces and ultimately, whether people like it or not, ccs will engage in fandom in one way or another but ccs (and other fans) need to respect fandoms and acknowledge that not all of the content is made for them

(under the cut bc it’s kinda long)

fanart is widely accepted as cool (usually as long as it’s not ship art), but other forms of fandom creativity are usually either unseen, ignored, or in fanfiction’s case, made fun of. fanfiction has a bad rep in fandoms, not just mcyt spheres.

when people think of fanfiction, they usually think of cringey ship fics made by young teens online. not all fanfiction is like this (there’s thousands of elaborate stories that could be their own independent series), but even the ones that are, so what?

fanfiction is an outlet for creativity just like fanart is, it’s just not held nearly in as high of a regard. people spend hours upon hours brainstorming, writing, and editing their fics just like an artist spends time sketching, coloring, and shading a piece of art.

fanfiction is just as valid as other forms of creativity. if you really want to make fun of it, i recommend doing so privately or at the very least ask for the author’s permission to talk about it in videos, streams, whatever

all fandom content has a target audience. a lot of the time, this target audience is not the content creators! fanworks are typically made for other fans. it’s nice when ccs engage with fanworks, but they need to keep this fact in mind especially when viewing stuff like shipping content

a lot of it comes down to curating your own experience online. yes, people will ignore or break boundaries but there’s not much that can be done other than blocking or ignoring them and going along with your day.

there’s been countless times where someone (either cc or fan) will call out another fan for making content they don’t like, even if it doesn’t necessarily break any boundaries

this causes a lot of unneeded stress on all parties and often leads to whoever was called out to receive harassment, which i don’t think should be encouraged regardless of the content

no one can dictate what a fandom can or cannot do— ccs and fans alike have tried many times in the past, present, and i’m sure will continue in the future, but no one can truly enforce rules upon someone.

just try to respect each other and various forms of fandom creativity that you see; whether this is art, fanfiction, analysis, shitposts, anything. not everything needs to be pointed out to be laughed at nor does everything need to have a callout post. block/ignore and move on if you don’t like what you see 🙏

also, as someone who has been in youtube fandoms for over a decade, this is an issue i’ve seen again & again in All youtube fandoms, not just mcyt fandoms. this isn’t directed at anyone specific, just a general word vomit of my thoughts from the past so many years :p