#Examples of Rational Numbers

[junkdrawerfan]

People are way too harsh about Bruce being a “hypocrite.” Being a parent is hypocritical. You do things and realize they’re bad and tell your kids not to do them. And even if you, as an adult, recognize your behavior is bad and harmful and toxic and you continue to do it, that doesn’t mean you should allow or want your kids to do that behavior.

If your parent smokes and tells you not to smoke, they’re not a hypocrite. If your parent drinks too much coffee but warns you against caffeine addiction, it’s because they’re living with the aftermath of bad decisions. If your parent chooses a dangerous job where they could die violently and painfully but wants you to chose a different career path, it’s because they love you.

So if Bruce is advising caution and self care and limits that he won’t give himself, that doesn’t make him a hypocrite. It makes him a parent.

If his kids call him a hypocrite and complain that Bruce will work 16 hour days but won’t let them, that makes them dumbass kids who will have the realization the day they have kids.

It’s called family, my guy.

[nolinno-art]

I've developed mathematics for a non-human mind, for my comic "The book written by tiny paws"

Sapient distant descendants of rats, known as packers, living on Earth millions of years after the extinction of humans, began to develop mathematics using cognitive mechanisms never intended for such tasks. Due to an evolutionary quirk, multiplication came more naturally to them than addition, and their mathematics reflects this.

Packers write numbers as shapes, with each number having a corresponding number of corners.

And they write large numbers as nested shapes. The number inside is multiplied by the number outside.

Examples of some numbers:

Packers haven't invented 0 yet. They haven't even invented 1! In fact, they don’t need the concept of "one" much in their system. There's no need to say "I ate one fish" when they can simply say "I ate fish".

Packers can't yet write large prime numbers, like 101 or 10,501, because they would have to draw a huge shape to represent them! Even writing 17 or 19 would be quite difficult if they only used convex shapes.

So packers use non-convex shapes too!

Many years later, some packer noticed that large prime numbers look suspiciously symmetric.

So this packer improved the notation system and made it clearer.

Later, another packer simplified this system even more, deciding that there was no point in writing the same shapes twice.

This packer was the first in their culture to declare that "a dot isolated from a number" should also be considered a number. The packer called this dot "the wonderful number that's less than two".

Many years later, another packer made an important innovation: the "dot isolation" could be repeated multiple times as long as the result remained odd. When the result became even, it could undergo a "two isolation" (division by two). The final result will be a series of dots and twos.

This invention led to the creation of a binary system based on one and two, which had a significant impact on the technological advancement of packers.

The comic "the book written by tiny paws" talks about all of this in more detail. There will be mistakes, debates, the invention of rational, irrational, multivariate numbers, and some other stuff. Some stuff will be very much like human math, and some will be different. After all, math is still math, only the point of view has changed.

[porcelainbirdss]

paper heart

summary: you thought he was just kind. everyone did. what you failed to discern, however, was the visage of something darker lurking underneath the man’s grinning face. such a pity, it was.

cw: fem!reader, yandere Phainon, mentions of death, descriptions of violence (not towards reader), grief, manipulation, stalking, obsessive and unhealthy behaviors, emotional dependency, hinted depression, open ending. ||wc: 13k

a sorrowful melody filled the air as your fingertips slowly dragged across white and black tiles. they were covered in a sheen layer of dust, probably because you abandoned your small hobby some time ago. you don’t know why your instincts told you to sit there, and play when you obviously should be doing something else — but they did. it was only logical, in a way — people upon meeting with peril often freeze. their reason fails them, and instead of acting rational, they begin to work their most favored instrument, for example.

once you reached the end of notations, tune abruptly stopping, you flipped the music sheet, and a very brief thought passed your disarrayed thoughts.

you needed to run.

it all began so long ago — the horrors, hidden below veils upon veils of primitive happiness and joy. all the dangers and pain, tucked away under the cloth depicting a face of your beloved (well, perhaps you should be using a past tense when referring to him in such an affectionate way).

you don’t know where the line between normalcy and insanity began to blur. where the borders separating an ordinary feeling and something much more unsettling crashed, becoming one. no matter how perceptive you were, it slipped past your notice.

maybe mulling over your demise was never the point — you could have been as well as doomed the second your eyes first met.

it has been thirteen months since the death of your mother.

a year and one month, then. you didn’t like counting the time in such a trivial way, though. a mere numer 'one' could never possibly depict the sorrow dragging your whole body down. numbers of a bigger scale were suitable — thirteen may be a large quantity. it surely was, considering the context of your current situation. thirteen months, so three hundred ninety six days filled with woe. enough to showcase all the seconds you spent on practically falling asleep within yourself.

your day to day life was the same, always following a routine you didn’t have the strength to change. it’s not like you were particularly crushed under the weight of your experiences, no, you just… got used to it. the silence. the dust gathering on the shelves. unused cups, and too many utensils in your drawers. abandoned music sheets, sitting obediently on your piano, opened in the middle — their melody never to be finished by the original musician.

it wasn’t well, nor good, and your existence seemed to lack in any rhythm — but it was bearable.

and, truth be told, you wholeheartedly believed it would continue to stay like so for the unforeseen future. except it didn’t.

as your shoes clacked over the cobblestone road, eyes trailing after all the cracks under your feet, you began to think about dinner. another feeble attempt at composing your life together, and it would probably end up in vain as any other — but hey, everything starts with something, and food was the most fundamental part of staying on your legs (at least in the physical sense).

the market spread widely before you, stalls upon stalls standing next to each other, filled up with various fruit and meat. people were yelling over the clamor, exchanging goods for currency. if that wasn’t the prime example of a beating heart, then you don’t know what is.

you stepped forwards, vision taking in your possible options. money was never a problem for you — except you took far too little this time, so perhaps it would be good to stick to something on the cheaper side. strong wing carried over the intense scent of peaches, instantly making your mouth water. huh, you hadn’t had them in a long time. they were always your favorite. maybe not the most suitable for dinner, but still satiating enough.

as you dragged your feet over to the stall, a group of children ran by your side, one of them accidentally knocking against your hip. they didn’t even turn to apologize, too absorbed within their fun. you could briefly discern the nursery rhyme they were singing, happily prancing around and skipping by multitudes of people.

"one for sorrow, two for mirth,"

you meekly greeted the vendor, gently grasping a singular peach within your fingers, and inspecting it with your keen gaze.

"three for a wedding, four for a birth,"

the colors were intense, orange and red seeping together into a flury of shades, creating appealing streaks. you almost smiled to yourself.

"five for silver, six for gold,"

once you pressed your joints, the fruit easily caved in. ah, on the other hand, perhaps it was overripe? considering how strongly it smelled, it was a possibility.

"seven for a secret ne’er to be told,"

you asked the seller for the cost — and seriously, was he a lunatic? who in their right mind would spend so much on peaches, especially when they were mere days away from practically rotting?

"eight for a wish, nine for a kiss,"

you scoffed under your breath, complaining about how unreasonable the price was. the man told you to take it or leave it.

"ten for a bird you must not miss,"

still, you kind of wanted those peaches — from what you deduced, no one else in the closest proximity was selling them. you either bid goodbye to all the money in your wallet, or…

"eleven for hope, twelve for health,"

with that, you offered to bargain. the vendor agreed. it of course didn’t go as you would have liked it to, and now you were getting irritated. soon your conversation changed into something resembling a barking match, with you yelling at the man and saying he was a scammer. he snarled back at you every time. people were staring. at some point you wanted to back out from the pitiful charade you caused, but your honor didn’t let you.

"thirteen beware of the devil himself!”

as you opened your mouth to spit another insult at the seller, a hand gently gripped your shoulder. you jolted up, startled. your head whipped towards the one who decided to interrupt you, ready to snap at them too — and you’d probably do so, if not for who that was.

a familiar face with that ever-present kind smile. one of the Chrysos Heirs. the fair, tousled locks and rather outstanding garments left no question within you — Lord Phainon. you swallowed thickly, eyebrows narrowing.

"my, i’m sorry. did i startle you, miss?" he immediately jumped to apologies, confusing you even further. "i just wanted to see if everything was alright with you two. of course, i didn’t mean to pry, however…" he chuckled, taking a small pause, "well. it seems there’s trouble?"

you simultaneously wanted to shake and nod your head. for whatever reason, you felt slightly stunted — his voice sounded nice. it reminded you of the way mourning doves chirp in the morning, all soothing and sweet. then, there was his smile, maybe capable of competing with the very sun hanging above your heads. a row of white teeth along with twins of blue crinkling in the corners. a picture of perfection. how come you never payed any attention to him?

upon your lack of reaction, a hand waved in front of your eyes. "…iss. miss? you still with me?"

you blinked twice, rapidly pulled out of your temporary stupor. oh. it would seem he was talking to you, and you remained unresponsive. what a way to make a fool out of yourself.

"ah, yeah, sorry." you forced out awkwardly, scratching the nape of your neck. "just got lost in thought."

at that, Phainon snickered. his attention returned to the vendor, and he pointed towards the peaches — cursed objects of your dismay. "alright! kind sir, i’d like to buy a few." he smiled politely at the man.

you observed him purchase your desired fruit with the slightest of disappointment, paying without any complaints or hesitation. then, he turned to you, and practically pushed the paper bag into your arms. "i’m— is that for me?" you stammered, eyes widening.

"of course." the corners of his lips lifted even further upwards, forming into a grin. "i just hope you don’t mind?"

how could you possibly mind? even if he felt like doing charity work out of pity, it still meant a lot to you. for quite some time, you hardly received any sort of kindness. perhaps that’s what you’ve lacked for all this time.

when you noticed some other people lining up behind you, you stepped to the side, Phainon following in tow. "i don’t mind. thank you, Lord—"

"let’s not use the honorifics, hm?" he chimed in before you could even finish your sentence, swaying his hand dismissively.

you nodded, a somewhat bashful smile forming on your face. you felt kind of perplexed by the whole exchange, but nevertheless, it was a nice change of pace. "fine with me. oh, by the way, my name’s—"

he cut in again. "[name], am i right?"

upon hearing that, you let out a clipped laugh. how did he even know? well, it’s not like you’re alienating yourself from the rest of citizens, but hey. Phainon was at least a few ranks above you, and from what you could discern, people of higher status rarely concerned themselves with identities of the commoners.

you itched to ask: how’d you know?, but held your tongue — that would be surely impolite. "yes, you got that right."

"well, it was nice to meet you, [name]." he said, tone remaining light and jovial, mouth still stretched into a grin. you wondered how is it possible his cheeks didn’t hurt from the constant strain. "enjoy your peaches!"

Phainon was halfway swiveling on his heel, ready to walk away — and you, upon some godforsaken impulse, gripped his wrist. he stopped in his tracks, turning to you with a quizzical expression.

"uh— maybe you’d like one?" you queried, hastily reaching into the bag, and pulling the fruit out. "i mean… you bought them for me, so it’s only fair."

his irises took your face in (maybe a bit too intently for your liking), and he looked seconds away from bursting into a triumphant laughter. for what reason, you honestly didn’t know. "sure, thank you." he nodded, grasping the peach from your palm.

you followed in tow, because — why not? you were hungry, and the sight of his teeth sinking into the tender flesh caused your stomach to rumble, reminding of its discomfort. "oh, my! these are great." you remarked casually, wondering whether you should be acting so easy-going with a Chrysos Heir. anyway, you’re not the one to blame, are you?

"they are." he affirmed, smiling when he took another bite. juice seeped down his hand, slipping under the sleeve, which caused him to let out a dismayed yelp.

you laughed at the sight. he laughed harder.

the sun shone brightly, and you didn’t even know him, but felt a sting of familiarity in your chest. Phainon’s strands of hair billowed straight in his face, tousled by the strong gusts of wind, and nothing seemed to matter at that moment. thoughts of any morose kind left your exhausted brain, leaving you with that blissful emptiness. there was only him, you, and those damned peaches.

after that, your friendship with Phainon unfortunately only grew in its size. to this day, you aren’t sure what tempted you to let him practically snake his way into your life. perhaps it was the fact you were lonely, and grief-shaken — upon your mother’s passing, none was the same, and everyone seemed to turn their backs at you. it hurt like hell, so any kind of company satiated you. well, Phainon wasn’t just any kind. he was incredibly sweet, and helpful, and sometimes you caught yourself thinking he was everything you needed and more.

at first, your meetings were coincidental (but from the retrospective, they probably weren’t). you were doing some shopping, and he just happened to stumble across you on the street. the man was sitting in that lovely garden, surrounded by prancing chimeras, and you’d accidentally cross ways. things were falling into place, and fate seemed to be tethering you both — so you only got closer, and closer.

the bond between you tightened with every passing month, until you found out it’s already been a year, and your cursed brain decided to bestow you with its worst gift. a crush. an infatuation, of sorts.

sharing your sorrows came easier, and Phainon was only more eager to hear you out. it placated the thunderstorm in your heart enough to let the gates down — you invited him in, completely willingly. you initiated the acts that would later prove to be your doom, and now you couldn’t even find a suitable excuse. after all, no one forced you to spend most of your free time with him. not a single person gripped you by the shoulders, shaking, and commanding you: stick with him, and ignore all the times when that borderline manic smile failed to reach his eyes.

you think you’ll regret not backing out when you still had the chance forever.

air in the antique bookstore was thick, making your lungs heavy as you accidentally inhaled another portion of dust, the little speckles seating themselves uncomfortably in your nostrils. you wanted to sneeze, however held the insistent urge back, mindful of every other patron — there weren’t many people here, but still, you’d rather not startle anyone.

you flipped to another page of that certain memoir which managed to catch your attention. the paper seemed fragile and yellowed, already damaged by years of sun exposure, and the spine was pretty much cracked in half. that didn’t matter, though — a thing bearing so many profound memories will remain beautiful, even if it was to be tossed into a fiery pit.

memoirs and biographies alike were always your favorite. you don’t know why, but they carried a certain sense of comfort — death was inevitable in human existence, but if you write your life down, you’ll stay alive in the minds of others (at least to some extent). books, unlike people, do not have a lifespan. they will not perish, unless someone burns or destroys them.

that was soothing. literature won’t leave, nor will it abandon you. it is definitive. it is attested. it is a certainty which cannot be guaranteed in every case. memories will not slip you away, as long as you tuck them onto a piece of paper — be it a simple notebook, or a diary. human brain is unable of perceiving the recollections properly after some amount of time — it will mix everything up, having you debate whether it truly happened or not. books weren’t like that. they won’t fail you nor bend the reality.

you turned to another page when a doorbell rang through the space, the sound of silent greeting gracing your ears. somebody new came in. you decided to ignore them for now, intently reading through the sentences to discern if this specific lecture was genuinely up to your taste (because you didn’t feel like spending another sum of money on something you’ll drop sooner than later).

and as you were busying yourself with that, a pair of palms suddenly obscured your vision — you’d probably jump up in fright if not for the fact your nervous system was already used to such endeavors. you giggled meekly under your breath, gently shutting the book.

"guess who." rang the sing-song voice, so familiar and saccharine.

you rolled your eyes, a weak smile tugging the corners of your lips upwards. "hm, i’m not sure. who could it be?" you huffed, swiftly tugging the hands away from your face, and turning to see who decided on surprising you.

obviously, it was no revelation when your irises locked with the radiant pools of blue, already grinning at you so widely. or perhaps it was? you honestly didn’t expect to see Phainon here out of all places — sure, judging people by a stereotypical lens was wrong, but you would have never thought he took any interest in literature.

Phainon pouted at your words, the corners of his lips curling downwards in a pitiful expression. he honestly reminded you of a kicked puppy. "ah, [name], i’m so hurt. it’s me, obviously!" the man whined, one of his arms attempting to sneak around your shoulders. you eluded the touch.

"well, hello there." you sighed, wry amusement lacing your tone. then, you thought to ask: "what are you doing here?"

a silly question it was, because obviously he didn’t visit an antique bookstore to pick strawberries.

your friend hummed under his breath, eyes briefly flickering over the books, finally locking on the one you were holding. "i like reading from time to time. by the way, is that another memoir?" he inquired innocently.

you nodded. “yeah. why?"

"nothing, nothing." he waved his hand dismissively, a chuckle slipping past his lips. "you just read so much of them. don’t you ever get bored?"

your mouth opened to grant him with a response, but then your brain lagged. a very silent, practically non-existent alarm rang in the back of your mind, causing you to pause. when did you ever tell him about your fondness for this specific genre? well, it’s not like you were actively trying to keep it a secret, but still. you both rarely conversed about such things, especially your reading hobby.

anyway, you’re probably acting irrational right now. you must have told him before, and it simply escaped your memory.

you cleared your throat, putting the book back on the shelf. for whatever reason, you didn’t feel like purchasing it anymore. "no, not really. they’re interesting." you answered without much commitment.

Phainon gave a noise of acknowledgment, his smile growing into a grin. "is that so? well actually, i like them too."

"i have plenty at my house." you said, irises avoiding his face. the expression he donned was practically blinding. "if you want to, i can lend you some."

the fact he also enjoyed memoirs didn’t seem particularly believable to you, but you decided to indulge him nonetheless. after all, he was your friend. your only one.

(not to mention you may have been crushing on him).

"that would be nice!” he replied instantly, and you thought if you squinted enough, you’d manage to spot the tail wagging behind him excitedly. "do you have the time?"

"as in… right now?" you queried, but before you even affirmed, Phainon was already dragging you out of the store. you didn’t protest. whenever you did, saying something that didn’t especially please the man, the look on his face always fell so somberly. you hated that sight.

with that, the both of you went to your home. to be fair, you visited him more often than he actually visited you — so as you opened the door, you immediately began apologizing about the mess (which wasn’t overly prominent, but a lot of dust gather around, and you didn’t have the strength to clean up).

"again, sorry. i just didn’t really have the time to tidy recently.” you let the white lie easily slip off of your tongue, slowly putting your shoes away.

Phainon looked at you as if you were crazy. "[name], i already told you i don’t mind. my place isn’t the most perfect either." he laughed merrily, patting your back.

you reciprocated his smile, internally grateful for how understanding the man was. his gaze was always relentlessly kind (spare for the times when he stared blankly into the distance, blue irises completely dull), and never once you thought he appeared anyhow judgmental.

"well, anyway. about the books…" you began, stepping closer to the shelf in your living room, stuffed to the brim with lectures. "anything specific you’d like to read about?" you asked, knowing the memoirs spread across a rather wide range of topics.

"your favorite ones." Phainon chimed, following in tow.

you huffed out a hushed chuckle, quickly taking out at least five of your beloved titles. he was really sweet if he wanted to read your favorites, and it made your heart clench happily. "here you go." you handed him the books, carefully balancing them on the man’s palms.

you wholeheartedly believed he’d at least check out their backs, interested in the contents — but his intense gaze remained glued to yours. now that you think about it, this occurrence was somewhat common. one time you went to a restaurant, and Phainon, instead of seeing what the menu had to offer, continued to stare at you with a dumb grin. he ended up ordering the same dish as you. or, for example, when you visited him, and asked whether he could pour you some juice — that day was beyond scorching hot, so you were parched. Phainon immediately agreed, but as he was filling up your glass, he seemed to get distracted. the juice overflowed, spilling all across his lap, and he only stopped when you yelled at him.

the man either loved daydreaming, or analyzing your face contours in depth. you surely hoped it wasn’t the latter option (not because you’d mind — it simply made you feel overly exposed).

"don’t hurry with reading them all." you offered him a wry smile, receiving a nod of understanding in return. "anyway, maybe you’d like some tea?”

Phainon sat by the table, placing the books on its surface. "sure, why not." he replied, lazily opening one of them, and skimming through the pages without actually processing the words. if not for the fact his leg was bouncing, you’d think he was the perfect picture of peace now — light gently illuminating the galant features, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

when he found you staring (even though you just internally berated him for doing the same thing), he sent you a knowing smile, eyebrows arching upwards. you cleared your throat awkwardly, hastily disappearing into the kitchen without a further comment.

once the tea was done, you settled it on the table, seating yourself as well. to no surprise, Phainon was distracted again, vision focused on your piano standing under one of the windows. it has seen better days — previously taken care of, its jet-black surface shone, reflecting all the light. now it was a mere imitation of its earlier glory, covered in dust and wilted petals of that flower you were too exhausted to water, and too unmotivated to throw away.

"something caught your eye?" you questioned, taking a small sip of the herbal drink.

he turned to face you, shrugging. "i was just wondering if you ever play this piano. i visited you multiple times, and it always stands…" he paused, as if weighting the words, "abandoned."

that much was true. you rarely concerned yourself with your hobby — after the passing of your mother, nothing seemed to draw your interest anymore. she was the one who taught you how to play, and now she was gone. no longer were the duets, or mirthful tunes resonating early in the morning.

she was much more talented and skilled than you could ever be, winning award after award. still, you cherished your shared passion for music — you learnt a lot, embedding the notes deep inside your mind. and she was proud. even if you failed, your mother would always cheer you on, patiently explaining what you could fix. life was good, back then.

but it was no more.

"i don’t play." you replied, voice a bit sterner than you’d like it to be.

Phainon didn’t seem anyhow deterred by your tone, sending you an encouraging smile. "really? that’s a pity. i’d love to hear you."

it wasn’t hard to deduce what he was insinuating. even though you swore to never touch that instrument again, your resolve chipped off at his words. "well… i suppose i could try for you."

your friend’s expression melted into a subtle triumph. "great!" he clasped his hands together, shifting on the chair to watch as you got up from your place, seating yourself by the piano.

you ran your palm over the dust and withered petals, shoving everything on the ground. you’ll swipe it later. then, you took a breath, attempting to recall anything familiar — it would seem you got rusty, because as you flipped through the music sheets, only one melody came to mind. why’re you so worried, anyway? you’re not here to impress Phainon (even if you’d like to, terribly).

with that, you positioned your fingertips on the tiles, shoulders tense from how his insistent gaze kept boring into your back. you winced upon the first sound, trying to remember how to play, and how to push back the memories haunting your sorrow-worn brain.

after a while of uncertainty, you finally fell into the right rhythm, smiling dimly at the forlorn tune. it was slow, and calm. all the world surrounding you seemed to cease in its existence, and now it was only you, and the piano. no Phainon, no birds flying outside of the window, no overcast skies, no memories of your late mother.

with each press on the tile, you felt as if you were discovering pieces of yourself anew, like a sacred ritual — playing made you happy. it truly did. how were you able of forgetting about such a simple fact?

as you regained the confidence, you worked your joints with more fervor. everything was going well, until two palms fell onto your shoulders, startling you.

a strained, prolonged sound filled the air as you accidentally hit the tiles, messing up the melody. your head quickly whipped towards Phainon, who was now looking at you with a surprised expression painted on his face. when did he even come up here? you hardly heard any footfall.

"i’m so sorry, did i scare you?” he chuckled, obviously without any remorse.

you sighed, fingers reaching over to touch his hands. "a little."

a smirk stretched his lips upwards as he leaned a bit closer, twins of blue flickering between your form and the instrument. "i didn’t mean to." he responded coyly, no matter if you didn’t sense any guilt coming from him. well, it’s not like you’d hold a grudge for giving you a brief spook. "i just wanted to look from up close. you played so beautifully."

you felt his joints interlock around yours, and now you were slightly hot, something summery itching at your cheeks. Phainon was way too near, and the worst part is — you wished to render the distance completely.

he appeared so pretty from up close. you could discern the faint dimples in his cheeks as he smiled at you tenderly, and how light coming from the window illuminated his radiant irises. if you were able to, you’d immediately snap a picture with your own eyes, because there was no way any sort of lens could ever truly mirror his prepossessing features.

"i can teach you." you blurted out on impulse, wanting to sink into the chair from embarrassment at your silly proposal.

you expected Phainon to laugh — except he didn’t. his face pulled even closer, effectively knocking the air out from your lungs. assuming your heart had legs of it own, it surely would bolt straight out of your throat.

"i’d like that." he murmured.

your breath hitched, and then his lips brushed against yours. you barely stopped yourself from digging your nails into his hands. upon some sprout of boldness, you moved to close your mouths together — but Phainon inched away. that caused your mind to lag, blinking twice at him in confusion — did you even kiss? it was so brief, and chaste in its nature. more like just… pressing your lips against each other, as if to exchange oxygen.

his palms left your shoulders, and he straightened out, stepping back. your thoughts spurred, wondering whether you did something wrong, or if you offended him — however, there was no trace of dismay on the man’s face. he kept smiling sweetly at you, slowly gathering the memoirs into his arms like nothing ever happened.

"well, teach, can i see you tomorrow for a quick lesson?" he asked amusedly, eyebrows arching upwards.

no matter how perplexed you felt, you still forced the corners of your lips to stretch. "s-sure." you stammered out, fingers clenching around the material of your attire.

perhaps you imagined it, after all.

with that, time continued to pass, and for whatever reason you never again touched upon the topic of that barely-kiss. you remember being frustrated then, for pretty obvious reasons. still, Phainon didn’t seem to be in need of talking about that, so you kept silent.

now, from the perspective of time, it might have actually saved you from a fate much worse than what you had presented before you at this moment. your chance to escape Okhema remains unshaken, but what if you pushed Phainon earlier on? surely, the man’s fangs would clench around your neck, refusing to let you go.

he continued to visit you after that, and you taught him how to play. it was no revelation when he grasped the concept rather quickly — he seemed to be some kind of an omnibus, catching on everything naturally.

those shared moments were so precious to you, back then. when Phainon became confident in his somewhat stable skills, you both would sit by the piano, playing a duet. your sides touched as you slowly pressed on the tiles, sometimes even humming along to the tune. whenever one of you messed up, you’d laugh, bickering quietly.

you were enjoying yourself — more than you probably should. all the red flags and alarming behaviors slipped past your notice, and you genuinely thought you regained a long-lost part of yourself.

the dust was now gone from your home, wilted plants and trash thrown away. the piano shone like it used to, and the sun seemed to peek out from behind the clouds more often. your fridge was never empty, because Phainon always brought you some fresh food, and the bed in which you could lie for hours on end didn’t appear as alluring.

it’s not that you miraculously recovered from the grief and burdens of your doleful mind, however, it was progress. the heart remained heavy still — but the man’s fingers curled under its beating form, lifting it up. it was easier to function with him.

at some point, you thought a life without Phainon would be impossible.

everything was going well, and you no longer were carrying so much sorrow. previously, your brain practically drowned into a state of paranoia — every single person appeared as if they wanted to harm or betray you in some way. you scowled at the passersby, a bitter frown painted across your face. but now it was gone. all the wariness and disdain and chagrin lulled into something softer, more amiable.

alas, you should have kept it with you.

you stirred awake, pressing your eyelids shut at the dim light of early morning uncomfortably irritating your eyes. you don’t know why, but your stomach churned, and you felt unsettled by the thought that something was not right.

your room was way too cold. of course, it was chilly in the mornings, but this? this was beyond normalcy. you finally looked around the space, trying to control your trembling limbs. nothing was amiss. every single thing lied in its destined place, all of the windows closed.

still, the temperature made you wonder. with an uneasy feeling, you slowly dragged yourself off the bed, treading downstairs to check it out as well.

it’s a good thing you didn’t go back to sleep, because the sight there made you gasp out loud. your doors were opened — not widely, just slightly ajar — but they were, and it made your guts clench.

under any other circumstances, you would have blamed it on your forgetfulness, however right now that was simply impossible. you never once forgot to close the door, always making sure at least two times the locks were secure and tightly shut.

when you were little, you and your mother fell victim to a robbery — your whole home got practically destroyed, every single furniture toppled over once the thieves were satisfied with their search for any valuables. ever since then, your mother got paranoid about stuff like that. she instilled utmost awareness in you, and so, you adapted. the habit stuck with you to this day, and you took extra precautions just to make sure everything was locked.

wind flew through the gap, lapping at your bare ankles with its frigid tongue. someone broke into your house — and the worst part is, you don’t know whether that person was still inside.

untamed panic attempted to squeeze your heart, but you steeled your resolve, taking a deep breath. no, you mustn’t fall into a hole of fright. your eyes quickly jumped across the space of your living room, scanning everything up and down — nothing.

you took a step forward, jumping up at the low creak your floor made. you cursed under your breath, placing a shaky palm over your pounding chest. you tentatively dragged your feet over to the middle of the room, trying to gather your disarrayed thoughts. as you somehow managed to calm your nervous system down, you hastily turned back for your teleslate, gripping it in your hand as if your life depended on it.

you glanced around yourself precariously, too afraid of even checking out other rooms — after all, if that intruder were there, what would you do? you couldn’t fight. one hit from behind, and you’d be gone.

as carefully as possible, you started walking down the stairs, already dialing a familiar number. you needed him — he was way more capable than you. you were absolutely sure if that person who broke into your house would see him, they’d pass out.

you stood frozen on the cold floorboards, counting down the signals. one. two. three—

"hello, [name]?" resonated the slightly dazed voice, still half-asleep. you must have woken him up.

"Phainon," you began, trying to maintain your tone stable, "can you come to my place?"

you heard a noise of something on the other side, muffled and static. "you mean… as in right now?"

"yes, right now. i know it’s barely four in the morning, but—"

a loud thud on the window cut in the middle of your sentence, causing you to practically shriek in horror. it was a bird — you saw it so clearly, its small silhouette bumping against the glass — and yet, you bolted out of your house as if you were hunted by a pack of fiends.

you almost tripped over your own legs, bare feet falling onto the cold grass, freshly covered in dew. you heard Phainon’s voice calling from your teleslate, asking if you were alright, so you pressed it back to your ear.

"what in the hell happened, [name]?" he asked, probably for the fifth time now.

you took a shaky breath, running a palm over your face. "nothing, i just— just please, come here. i think…" you stammered, clumsily stumbling over your words in haze of trepidation, "i think someone broke into my house."

"wh—" the man began, immediately abandoning his track of thought, "alright. okay, i’ll be there. where are you now?"

you warily looked around, taking in the dimmed sight of your surroundings — the sky was still somewhat dark, periwinkle shyly peeking through the grayish firmament. "in my garden."

Phainon affirmed he’ll come as soon as possible, and you hung up, anxiously pacing around the patch of grass. you were torn between staying outside, and coming back home — but ultimately decided to remain in place.

you fidgeted with your fingers, eyes flickering to the door you forgot to even close as you sprinted out. you mulled over all the dark scenarios, clenching your hands into fists, imagining what you’d do if that intruder were to suddenly emerge, and attack you. their motives surely were odd — nothing was missing, your furniture unmoved, all the possibly valuable things untouched. it was different from what you had experienced as a young girl. if not for the money, then…

the grim realization struck you, and you breathed meekly, feeling your knees get wobblier. how is it you came out of this completely unscathed? as you continued to drown in morose reveries, you heard the fast footfall, head whipping to see who was coming your way.

Phainon, in all of his glory — ivory locks tousled in ever single possible direction, still donning his sleepwear and combat shoes that totally didn’t match. perhaps under different circumstances, you would laugh at the sight.

"[name]." he called, swiftly rendering the distance between you. his facial expression seemed somewhat distraught, but he didn’t take his sword with him, which was… well, somewhat weird. maybe he simply forgot it.

you stepped towards him, grabbing his palms into yours. "thank gods you’re here…" you muttered, feeling at his joints tensing. "why don’t you have a weapon? what if— what if that intruder is still—"

"everything is going to be just fine, alright?" he responded, interrupting your waterfall of hardly-coherent words. "i’ll go search through your place. you should, uh… perhaps stick to me."

you nodded eagerly, sighing with relief at the security Phainon’s presence brought you. with that, you trailed after the man, glued to his hip like a stray animal begging for a scrap of meat.

both of you carefully checked out every single corner of your house, and the more you looked, the more unsettled you became. the thief was not there, but a few things were missing. first of all — your pens. as you stepped into the study, you briefly noticed the disarray on your desk, soon finding out half of your utensils were gone. then, there was that handkerchief you spent so much time embroidering with intricate floral patterns — also no sight of it.

the disappearances were so inconspicuous, it terrified you way more than the vision of losing your jewelry or money. what person casually decides to break in, only to steal somebody’s pens and a piece of cloth? those things were not valuable whatsoever — the fact that this intruder took them was beyond off.

when you pointed it out, Phainon’s eyebrows narrowed with concern — and then his expression shifted into almost dismissal. he said not to worry, after all none of your actually precious stuff was gone, and that must be a good sign, no?

you were consternated at his suddenly carefree attitude, but didn’t point it out. since your friend told you everything was fine, then who were you to undermine his words? certainly, he knew better than you — even if something deep in your gut told you otherwise.

you pushed back the feelings of unease and ambivalent emotions, soon changing the locks and making sure all of your windows were secure. this accident has shaken you, and now your sleep was restless — but life goes on, and Phainon promised he’d never let any harm come your way, so at least you had an ounce of comfort to cling to.

you don’t know why you were so blind, back then. the signs were there for all of this time — you simply decided to turn a blind eye on them.

perhaps it was because you repressed the grief deep inside, but it still dragged you down. silently, innocently. it resurfaced only when you were alone, staring pointlessly at your own feet or a half-empty cup of water. you began to fear it, and so, you tethered yourself to the source of your consolation.

it has been twenty six months since your mother’s death, and thirteen months since your "friendship" with Phainon first bloomed. a number big enough to show the amount of conflict brewing within your heart — torn between everything your instincts were telling you, and ignoring them.

sometimes you wondered: if you kept your curiosity at bay, would anything ever resurface? would the ugly things finally appear, seated in your lap like an obedient lamb? he was an intelligent man, so perhaps not.

anyway, there’s no use mourning over spilled milk.

Phainon, being one of the Chrysos Heirs, was often sent out on missions of various kind. they never took him too long — he always came back in time, maybe a bit battered, but still in one piece. today, however, seemed to be different.

everything started out smoothly — you knew he was out of town, so you arranged to meet with one of your newly-formed friend. you got ready, actually putting effort in how you looked, and waited patiently for the hour of your little get-together to finally arrive.

when your teleslate vibrated next to your thigh, you believed it was your friend, letting you know to come out now — so once your eyes met with Phainon’s vague message, you blinked in surprise.

he asked you to come to the infirmary, only stating that he wanted to see you. naturally, you texted back — did something happen? — but the silence that followed was maddening. an utterly unreasonable flood of worry surged through your mind, each passing second stirring it into a thunderstorm. without wasting another moment, you grabbed your bag and hurried out.

by the time you arrived, every nerve in your body felt like it was set in flames. stress relentlessly gnawed at your thoughts, and a thousand of dark scenarios bloomed intrusively in your imagination. you barely managed to ask one of the nurses where he was, and she responded with a door numer — it already managed to dissolve in your thoughts. you walked upstairs, heart pounding with a single morose question: was Phainon truly in such a state that he’d ask for you? gods, you hoped he was just being dramatic.

you shoved the door open and exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. there he was — alive, upright, and breathing. he sat on the bed with a slight recline, supported by a multitude of pillows, his gaze fixed on something outside the window. when he heard you come in, he turned, expression almost instantly shifting into a cheerful smile.

"[name], you came." he hummed happily, briefly running his fingers through the fair locks, maybe a bit self-conscious by how messy they were.

Phainon’s left cheek was covered by a piece of gauze, and you managed to spot a few bandages sticking from under his loose robes — but fortunately, nothing else caught your attention. he was all well, and now you were wondering why did he sent you such an ominous message in the first place. maybe he simply wanted to mess with you.

you nodded, rendering the space between you two. "of course i did." you spoke meekly, deciding to seat yourself on the small chair, standing just right next to the bed. "anyway, are you… okay?"

the blue irises studied you for good, prolonged three seconds before he thought answer. "could have been worse. accidents happen from time to time, even to me." he chuckled, a cough ripping from his chest abruptly.

you winced, fiddling with your fingers. you did not know what to do. "why don’t you lie down?" you asked, sending him a wry smile. comforting others was never your strongest forte, and now it was evidently showing.

he obediently took up on your offer, the corners of his lips remaining lifted. "[name], don’t frown so much. it’s not like i’m dying, or something."

you laughed at that comment, and he laughed along. whenever you as much as voiced any sound of joy, he always followed suit — at first it wasn’t very noticeable to you, but after some time, you recognized it as a habit of sorts. an unconditioned reflex.

"sorry. i didn’t mean to, i just…" you trailed off, eyes falling to your lap.

a short beat of silence passed between you before Phainon spoke again. "you look especially pretty today. any occasion?" he mused, a teasing lilt to his voice.

at that, you almost choked on your own spit. your relationship with the man was… well, somewhat questionable — but whenever he complimented you in such a straightforward way, you always felt as if somebody smacked you across the face with an electric wire.

you cleared your throat, trying to fight off the blush steadily creeping onto your cheeks. "maybe? i’m not sure. i was supposed to meet up with my friend today." you explained.

Phainon’s smile widened, and you didn’t fail to spot how the corner of his lips twitched. "sounds great."

you nodded, unsure of what to reply with. sometimes he responded with such vague sentences, it was hard to even come up with an answer. still, you forced your mind to muster up anything to keep the conversation going.

you talked for quite a while now, and you definitely lost the track of time — the sky darkened slightly, and you continued to ignore the buzzing of your teleslate. whenever you reached into your bag, your friend always began asking you some barely sensible questions, demanding your attention to stay focused solely on him.

you indulged him, naturally, but when you heard the sound of a ringtone, you could no longer pretend. what you were doing was hardly polite — looking at the hour, you were already fifteen minutes late to your meeting. even if Phainon was battered, he surely would understand, right? after all, he is the prime example of kindness, constantly gracing everyone with that cordial smile of his.

with a sigh, you grasped the device, ready to pick up. "sorry, i really have to—"

before your fingertip managed to even do as much as graze the teleslate’s screen, a hand suddenly locked around your wrist. you let out a mixture of surprise and confusion from your throat, vision returning to Phainon. he was smiling — alas, it didn’t encompass his eyes anymore. the man’s grip wasn’t hard, but it caused you to accidentally drop your teleslate, the thing slipping from your palm and hitting the ground with a clatter. it was still ringing a merry tune, so notorious and loud.

you swallowed, consternation painting itself across your face. "hey, what are—"

a vivid picture of sudden change grew in front of you, dull irises snapping back into their lively forms — he hastily let go of your limb, retracting his hand. did Phainon suffer some head trauma while he was away on a mission? he never once acted so erratically before, so you wouldn’t be surprised to find out his brain was in a concussed state.

"sorry. is your teleslate alright?" he spoke calmly, easing back into the stack of pillows.

you bend down to pick it up, briefly inspecting it. "yes, it is." you nodded, eyes avoiding him. when you glanced at the screen, you saw at least ten delivered messages, waiting for you to read. you felt guilty.

"anyway," he started, that lighthearted lace returning to his tone, "who were you supposed to meet up with?"

you sighed at the innocent question, turning the device off. "Phaoriseus. you remember him, don’t you?"

to be completely honest, you expected another burst of bitterness from your friend (and you wouldn’t blame him for it) — so it was a surprise when Phainon gave a hum of understanding, still smiling at you without a single waver. "i do remember him."

(you didn’t spot how terribly hard his fingers curled around the covers, nor the tight clench of his jaws).

"so, uhh, i guess i should…" you began, wondering why were you feeling so unsure, "i should go now. he’ll get mad if i just ditch him like that."

Phainon’s expression remained frozen for a good second — but soon the blank page of his face twisted into a pitiful frown, eyebrows knitting together. "really? but you just got there!" he protested, and you thought he looked like a mistreated dog. injured face, stitches, locks tousled messily — and those big eyes, practically begging.

he was not right. you didn’t just get there. it has been two hours since you stepped into infirmary, and perhaps it would be better to go now — but Phainon had this irresistible ability of tugging on your poor heartstrings. you felt torn, and when your teleslate began ringing again, you knew it was the high time you finally decide.

and the worst part is — it came so easily to you. just like that. without much hesitancy, you turned on the silent mode, tossing the thing back into your bag.

sure, you wanted to maintain friendships, and whatnot — but the man lying now in front of you was simply more important. you chuckled dryly under your breath, wondering how could you ever possibly leave his side — and when he heard the sound coming from your mouth, he laughed along. sweetly, like pure saccharine or sugarcoated apples.

"so you’ll stay, i presume?" he inquired, fingertips reaching over to yours. you squeezed his hand immediately, smiling at the warmth of his joints.

"of course i’ll stay." you affirmed, all remnants of internal conflict seeping away. it was good this way. you didn’t need much in life — as long as you had Phainon, everything would be just fine.

you could mock your past self for remaining so oblivious, but it would lack in any sense anyway. it’s not as if berating yourself for putting trust in somebody else could fix the old mistakes — none can undo the past.

now that you think about it, Phainon always was… somewhat quirky. beloved by everyone, cherished and praised highly in the general community of Okhema, he stayed as a picture-perfect golden boy. no one would ever suspect there was something more to him — not even you, at least back then.

however, sometimes his usually radiant eyes lost their glow, boring pointedly into the distance with dullness you couldn’t put your finger on, or discern where it was coming from. it was eerie in a way, seeing how the very life seemed to practically disappear from him — but you never thought to judge him. you understood better than anyone else that a human’s existence is filled with various hardships and grief. maybe Phainon experienced something akin to your loss, and simply attempted to smother the sorrow instead of letting it dissolve naturally.

then, there were his mood swings. they weren’t overly prominent, but it was quite apparent the emotions within him were in a constant state of swirl. for example, how quickly and rapidly he could burst into laughter at something mildly funny you said — you always wondered whether he seriously found your dry jokes so amusing.

not to mention, you perceived Phainon as someone relentlessly kind, but he just had that odd habit of glaring at whoever was talking to you. no matter if you were acquainted with them, or not — he’d stand a little behind you, eyebrows narrowing together lowly. when you caught him scowling like so, his look always shifted into a docile smile, innocently asking what was wrong — as if he never did anything in the first place. you let that slide, too.

perhaps this was not a very obvious sign, but from time to time, you noticed the slip-ups in his masterfully crafted masks. well, maybe not masterfully, because Phainon wasn’t all that great at controlling his facial expressions — but the fact he could hold them up with such a hell in his mind remained impressive. you stated something against his wishes — his eyebrow twitched. you did specifically what he told you not to do — his lower eyelid quivered, as if he was seconds away from losing it.

and finally, the vague responses Phainon offered you. previously, you had no clue why he got so mopey sometimes, but now you know it stemmed from pure, barely contained jealousy. the short "okay-s" and "fine-s" often sounded as if he practically forced them out. almost like there was something in his throat — obscuring the man’s windpipe, refusing him from mustering up anything more.

earlier on, when you were still so blissfully oblivious, you could live with that. you could swallow down all the doubts and questions, cherishing the company of your beloved friend — or something more. you ignored all the cracks, and wavers, pretending not to see the sharp eyes of a predator lurking from underneath sheep’s clothing.

you were so hung-up on the vision of remaining by Phainon’s side, you ignored the warnings — not only originating from your own intuition, but other’s as well.

the weather seemed a bit unstable today — you agreed to come out on a walk with Phainon, bumping into Mydei along the way, and dragging him with you too — and the sun shone brightly from one part of the sky, while the other remained darkened by the rain clouds. it was a little unsettling, watching as the gloom spread relentlessly fast towards your way.

still, you couldn’t exactly complain. you were having fun with both of the men, giggling under your breath as they bickered over the dumbest things. you already had to work as a mediator, and a judge — when their debates remained unsolved, they instantly turned towards you, demanding you decide which one of them was right.

and as you strolled through the main square, your eyes met with an ice cream stall. the temperature was quite hot, so you offered to buy some — Phainon agreed with you, saying that he can go wait in the line, since it was pretty long. you sent him a grateful nod, hiding with Mydei in the shade meanwhile he had to stand in the scorching sun, already appearing somewhat dazed by the hotness.

you leaned on the cool pillar, sighing with relief. the man next to you followed suit, glancing at you with the corner of his piercingly sharp iris. "[name], i have to ask you about something." he began, perhaps a bit tentatively.

to hear him speak up first was a slight surprise, especially since you weren’t particularly close, nor did Mydei seem to be overly social. still, you didn’t point it out — it’s not like it was a bad thing he attempted to strike up a conversation with you.

"go ahead." you sent him an encouraging smile, quickly reaching to wipe the sweat off of your brow. the high temperature was seriously getting to you — any longer in the sun, and you’d probably faint.

he cleared his throat, letting out a prolonged sigh. "what do you think of Phainon?” he questioned, the tone of his voice more gravely than usual.

confused, you blinked twice, mulling over his words. what’s that supposed to mean? "well, i think he’s a… good person. i enjoy his company.” you replied, wondering if that’s the answer Mydei was looking for.

the man shook his head, eyebrows narrowing together. "is that all? don’t you think he’s been acting off?"

the more he talked, the more perplexed you got. "what?"

Mydei clicked his tongue in irritation, probably barely holding back a scoff at your obliviousness. "[name], i’m sure you are more intelligent than you let on. don’t tell me you can’t see how he looks at you?"

a nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you scratched the nape of your neck. where was he even going with all this? "sorry, are you—" you took a pause, weighting your words, "are you insinuating Phainon has a crush on me?"

this of course wouldn’t be any sort of revelation, considering the things you both have done before, however hearing it from somebody else’s mouth was certainly weird.

he huffed out a humorless chuckle, leaning in a bit closer, as if his sentence was some kind of top-secret. "more than just infatuation. there’s… there’s something uncanny to his gaze." Mydei murmured with a hint of cautiousness in his voice. "i really hate to talk of him in such a way, but i know him longer than you, and—"

your brain almost — almost connected all the circumstances and dots you were pushing back for a long time already, living in denial — but then a familiar voice caused you both to jump back, straightening out.

"i’m back!" you turned to look at Phainon who held up three cones, a triumphant grin stretching his lips upwards. "now, what were the two of you talking about, hm?" he laughed inconspicuously, handing out the ice cream.

Mydei sent you a glare so stern, you’d never dream of admitting the truth. "just… discussing our favorite chimeras." you forced out, making up some hardly-authentic excuse on the spot. you saw the blonde man cringe at your dumb lie.

Phainon’s eyebrows lifted, and he nodded slowly, as if silently messaging he didn’t believe a single word. "is that so? well, Mydei was frowning so much i thought you were conversing about the very death." he joked lightheartedly, licking at the already dripping ice cream.

"it doesn’t matter, Deliverer. [name]’s telling the truth." he retorted, and you winced when he took a formidable bite out of the cold food.

you observed them exchange heated looks, but neither said anything further. with that, you took a small step back, hunching your shoulders inwards as you slowly licked on the ice cream — for whatever reason, you lost your appetite.

funnily enough, no matter how ominous Mydei’s words were, you soon forgot them. an awful decision on your side, but hey — at least you’re aware now that he remained completely truthful, then. you could be almost grateful at his high perception, though it didn’t help much at that time.

you were never close with the crown prince of Kremnos — he always seemed a bit distant, and detached from the rest. the only reason you had any contact with him was because of Phainon. perhaps that’s the reason why his warning dissipated so quickly from your mind — assuming you were better friends, you’d surely take everything he told you under consideration.

as you slowly reached towards the end of your favored piece, fingers falling rhythmically on the tiles, you began to think you should have listened. you should have taken it all to heart, ridding yourself of the blindness, and accepting the truth.

alas, you didn’t do so, and the longer you sit by the piano, playing and mulling over events of the past year, the more evident your demise starts to appear. every single sound resonates like the oh-so familiar footsteps, and singing of the night birds outside reminds you of his voice.

maybe he’s standing right behind you, and you just don’t know it yet. a silly, paranoid vision that was — you made sure to lock the doors, barricading them with additional furniture. you’d certainly hear it, if he were to force his way inside — but still, you feared to turn your head.

after all, when it came to Phainon, your cognitive functions always seemed a bit faulty.

the storm season began, and you shining with utter intelligence, forgot to take your umbrella. again. you swear, at this point you’ll have to write it on your forehead in big, bold letters — remember about the rain!, or something of the sort.

fortunately or unfortunately, you were close to Phainon’s place, so you quickly ran to his door, almost slipping on the mud. with a huff of exasperation, you knocked energetically, hoping he was home. your limbs were trembling from the cold, and clothes stuck uncomfortably to your frame, encompassing you in their heavy wetness. you barely stopped the chattering of your teeth.

after a few seconds, the man finally opened the door, obviously taken aback to see you. "oh, [name]!" he called out in surprise, immediately ushering you inside with a kind smile.

once he shut the entrance, you sighed in relief, drinking in the tranquil silence. loud rainfall was no more, muffed out by the walls surrounding you — and the air definitely got warmer, a soothing balm to your shaky joints. then, you turned to look at Phainon.

"i got caught up in the rain." you stated the obvious, a humorous snicker slipping past your lips as you quickly shook off the water-filled shoes.

your friend’s expression turned fond, and he cocked one eyebrow up at you. "really? i never would have noticed." he chuckled, reaching for your soaked hair — he raked his fingers through the strands, and you swatted his teasing touch away.

"anyway, i’m cold and i want something to drink." you stated, hurriedly dragging your feet towards the living room. Phainon followed in your tracks, just a few steps behind.

you sat on the leather couch, barely containing the shaky breath threatening to escape you. he stood in front of you, clasping his hands. "alright, how about this— self-service today, and while you’re preparing yourself tea, i’ll run you a bath." he offered, before quickly adding: "oh, and maybe i’ll find some fitting garments for you…"

the vision of a hot bath and dry clothes was better than ever — you nodded earnestly, jumping up from the couch like a wind-up toy. "sounds good. thank you, Phainon." you smiled, grateful for such a considerate companion. whatever ethereal being was looking after you, they certainly made sure to bless you with an angel.

he reciprocated the gesture, saying he’ll try to be as quick as possible, soon emerging upstairs. you already took a step forward the kitchen — but then something caught your eye.

door, slightly ajar, just in the corner of the room — of course, you were aware of their existence, but didn’t know where they actually led to. they always remained tightly shut, and Phainon never seemed to use them (at least in your presence).

upon some tinge of uncontainable curiosity, you walked towards the source of your interest. it was extremely rude to pry and search through one’s home while they remained unaware — but your friend wouldn’t get mad even if he found out, right? sure, maybe he’d scold you, but it would end at that.

you opened the door a bit wider, studying the space — it was rather claustrophobic, to be honest. it looked like a larder, except it lacked in any sort of food. a rather obscure wall unit stretched on your left, devoid of anything useful in particular — empty jars, some scrolls, everything covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. the only thing that didn’t seem abandoned was a carton box, situated atop a feeble chair.

you stepped forwards, prying its flaps open with the slightest of guilt — alas, the freshly ignited marvel won, and you couldn’t hold yourself back. at first it didn’t seem to harbor anything special, just a few books along with an innocent-looking wooden casket. you almost laughed, a bit disappointed to find nothing interesting — but then you saw it.

those were your books, the same ones you lent to him some time ago, and pretty much forgot about.

why would Phainon store them inside some dusty cellar instead of just giving them back to you? it was perplexing. you slowly reached for them, lifting the books up — everything seemed fine, and they lacked in any damage. you put them away, focus relocating towards the unfamiliar object lying at the bottom — a… diary?

you gently grasped it, your instincts screaming at you to abandon your task and go make yourself that damned tea. unfortunately, you decided to stay curious.

as you slowly opened it, you immediately got greeted with the familiar handwriting — it was loopy, and nice to the eye. you always envied Phainon because of it.

with a shaky exhale of thrill, you began to scan through the contents.

i finally spoke to [name] today. after all my hesitation, i can’t believe how gentle and kind she turned out to be. what was i so afraid of? i waited for the perfect moment, wanting to make a good impression — and i think it was worth it.

i bought her peaches, though i’m not quite sure why she was so hellbent on bargaining for them. she’s never lacked in money, at least from what i’ve managed to deduce. still, i bought them, and she surprised me by offering one back. such a small thing, and yet it meant so much. i nearly cheered out loud with joy.

it feels like a good beginning. earning her trust will take time, i know — but perhaps i can dare to believe i’ve already taken the first step. i dearly hope i’m not wrong.

your eyebrows narrowed together, and the air gone heavy in your lungs. what? just… just what the hell was he even writing about? yes, the piece of text seemed innocent enough, but it wasn’t hard to discern Phainon thought of speaking to you long before you personally met him. maybe you were simply exaggerating, and the man’s intentions remained pure — but still, you hurriedly shuffled through the pages, stopping on another one.

today was thankfully free from any obligations, leaving me with much time to devote to what truly matters: learning more about [name]. it’s not difficult to trace someone’s steps, honestly. i’ve always found it quite easy — some may say it’s somewhat unethical, but i never thought of it that way. ah, i digress, don’t i?

she doesn’t work — not surprising, really, considering her late mother’s fortune. if memory serves me right, that woman was once a pianist of some renown. still, i do wish [name] ventured out more often — her long absences complicate things unnecessarily. but i endure.

when she does take a walk, she moves as if without a particular purpose — never talking to anyone, never daring to look up from her feet. it fascinates me. what thoughts fill her head during those quiet strolls?

she has some sort of a fondness for that antique bookstore, near the main square. i paid a visit myself, naturally. the clerk, eager to please a Heir, shared the details of her last purchase — a memoir. i’ve never cared much for them, but if my [name] finds value in such lectures, then i shall too. it’s only logical, after all.

as always, i was careful today. our paths crossed — seemingly by chance, of course. i’ve gone to great lengths to ensure that every encounter feels like a mere coincidence. she likely thinks of them as such. there’s a certain naivete in her logic and understanding, a quality i find utterly disarming. it will certainly make things easier for me to ████ ██.

all in all, today was successful. i hope the following days will remain equally bountiful.

your hands shook now, jaw hanging slack as you barely stopped yourself from dropping the diary and bolting out of that man’s house. was this supposed to be a joke? if so, then it surely wasn’t funny.

he was a lunatic. Phainon — the one you considered your most beloved and only friend — was insane. he followed after you, tracking you down, as if you weren’t a real person with their own emotions, but a mere animal to hunt, shoot down, and put on display.

you were terrified. no, that was an understatement. you were terror-stricken. everything you took for granted suddenly crumbled over your head, rendering you frozen — but, perhaps, this really was only a joke? some… some kind of a fictional story Phainon decided to make up out of morbid boredom?

with that, you turned another few pages forward, hoping to see a revelation which could ease your anxiety, and finally clear up the misunderstanding. you had to squint your eyes a little, observing as the elegant handwriting suddenly took a sharper turn, erratic and barely able of discerning.

my hands tremble as i write this, the ink already smudging in places. it’s strange — i’ve faced peril more times than i can count — and yet nothing has shaken me quite like what happened today.

i met [name] at the bookstore again. i nearly commited a gravely mistake — i made a remark about her taste in memoirs, something she’s never confessed to me directly. for a moment, i thought i completely messed up everything i worked so hard for. i could see the faintest flicker of suspicion in her eyes, but she said nothing. thank gods for that. i had no excuse prepared, so i suppose i would’ve been doomed.

she invited me to her home to lend me some memoirs. as if the books mattered. of course i accepted — not out of my interest for the literature, but because the offer was simply too enticing to turn down. time with her, and [name]’s own beloved volumes in my hands. a chance like that cannot be missed out on.

i tried not to show it, but my eyes were drawn to her piano (i thought it looked quite proud and imposing). it stood abandoned in the corner, as if she completely forgot about it. i asked if she could play for me. [name] hesitated, but ultimately agreed.

what followed was something beyond music. her fingers moved with such grace, her posture so painfully poised. the room dissipated away. i watched, completely mesmerized. why did she not follow in her late mother’s footsteps? well, perhaps it’s better this way. the world doesn’t deserve her. not like i do.

as she played, i stepped towards her, putting my hands on her shoulders. she jolted up, stopping rapidly — startled, maybe. i should have felt guilty, but i didn’t. [name]’s surprise, her breath catching in her throat — it was alluring, in a way.

and then, i kissed her. not fully — just the brief touch of lips. but it happened. she didn’t pull away. if anything, i thought i felt her coveting for more. i backed out, though. if i haven’t, then i ████ ███████ ██.

[name] is driving me to the edge of reason. she doesn’t even know it, not truly. i am already hers. completely, helplessly hers. how could i not be? when i met her, i realized she was unavoidably special. ████ ██ i am sick with desire. she makes me ████ █████████.

so it wasn’t a jest, then.

you turned to another page.

what i did tonight would, by most standards, be considered shameful — depraved of any morality, even. but i feel no remorse.

ever since i first tasted the warmth of [name]’s kindness, i have found it impossible to resist my longing. could you believe it? she offered to teach me the piano. imagine that — her delicate hands guiding mine, her voice so close i could feel it brush against my cheek. we’ve started to play duets together. to be fair, it’s hard for me to contain myself with her sitting so close, side pressed into mine.

tonight, the ache became unbearable.

i broke into her house while she was asleep, and i observed her for quite some time. i wanted to take something from her — to soothe the torturous ache in my chest when she’s not near. i cut a lock of her hair. it smelled faintly of lavender and something sweeter i couldn’t name. i held it to my lips. it felt like worship.

i searched her study next — not to violate, or anything of the sort. i simply needed more. i settled on a few of her pens and a handkerchief, enthralled by the intricate embroidery. just little things, nothing valuable.

you couldn’t read it anymore. if there was a feeling comparable to being continuously stabbed into the heart, you certainly felt it now. shocked, you dropped the diary to the floor, practically throwing yourself at the innocent-looking box — your shaking hands reached for the wooden casket, prying it open without much finesse.

knowing what you would see at the bottom was more awful than remaining oblivious, and it caused your stomach to churn. exactly as it was written — a piece of your hair, tightly embedded with a ribbon of sorts. then, the pens you lost, along with the handkerchief.

you slowly put it away, careful not to make any sounds. Phainon was taking quite a long time preparing you this bath, or whatever the hell was he doing. running would be the wisest option — but something pushed you to bend down for the diary, and read another entry. you had to get some closure.

as you flipped towards the end of the filled pages, you noticed how messy it was — smudged ink, splatters of… something? on the paper, scratches so hard they ripped through. still, you forced yourself to decipher the following text.

i caved.

the restraint i fought to maintain finally tore. i’ve done something irredeemable, and yet i ████ █. perhaps that makes me ██. but if loving [name] this fiercely is madness, then let me descend into it without apology.

it began with my injury. she came to the infirmary, just as i hoped. the sight of her standing by my bed — so gentle, so beautiful — was almost too much to bear. i asked where she was headed, because obviously, she dolled herself up. i believed she’d say nowhere.

but no. she mentioned a meeting. a friend.

a friend.

████ █████████ ██ █████.

something cracked inside me then. who gave her permission to give her time — my time — to someone else? ████ ███ who was that man, to think he could occupy the thoughts and laughter that should belong to me alone? ████ █████████ ██ █████

i found him. of course i did. people like him are easy to track — even easier to silence.

i don’t remember much — the moment is a blur, as if my mind repressed it from the sheer disgust for that intruder. only the sound remains: a dull, heavy thud as his body hit the ground. after that, there was stillness.

he’s gone now. that’s all that matters. [name] is safe — untouched, unspoiled by others. ████ █████████ ██. she is mine.

i love her with a force i can’t contain. it consumes me. it burns like fire. but if she ever learned the truth — if she knew what i’ve done — i know she would hate me. she would curse my name. that, i cannot allow.

she must never see that side of me. no one must.

i’ll keep my secret buried deeper than that man i laid few meters underneath the ground. ████ █████████ ██ ████. and i will keep smiling when i see her. i will kiss her hands. [name] doesn’t need to know what i’ve done — only that i love her. more than anyone else ever could.

there was more — much more text to go through — an unhinged rant about whatever that maniac’s mind managed to come up with. unfortunately, you didn’t have the strength to read it. your stomach churned mercilessly, bile threatening to gather in your mouth. then, you heard the footsteps.

if not for that terrifying sound, you’d probably curl up on the floor and start wailing. you didn’t even have the time to process anything as you rapidly began to put everything back into the box, desperately attempting to recreate how the objects were laid out.

you began to count the steps. one, two, three, four, five.

he wasn’t in a hurry. you quickly put the casket back, placing the diary along with your books above it, wondering if you did that right — your vision obscured by tears, you fought tooth and nail to hold the waterworks back. if that man saw you crying, then he’d surely guess what you just found out.

six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

you shut the flaps of the box, stepping away to give that bedlam a last glance. you then turned, trepidation squeezing at your hammering heart.

eleven, twelve, thirteen.

as you opened the door, ready to walk out casually as if nothing ever happened, your face bumped straight into Phainon’s chest, causing you to stumble backwards. oh no. no, no, no—!

your eyes rose towards him, and you forced your expression to remain as neutral as possible. no matter for your heavy breaths, or the wet tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. at first, he looked equally surprised as you felt — but then, he smiled. a grin, more teeth than cheer, hardly reaching his blue irises.

"what are you doing here, [name]?" he asked calmly, the completely stoic tone of his voice causing your limbs to freeze.

Phainon’s eyes bore into your form as if he was a starving animal — a panting wolf, barely holding itself back from sinking its marred fangs into the hare’s nape.

you swallowed thickly. "nothing. i-i mean…" you stumbled over your own words, sweat dripping profusely down your temples. "i was just curious about this room, so i—"

"don’t worry, i’m not mad at you." he spoke, taking a step forward. "i’ve already prepared the bath, so why don’t you go and take it?"

against all your reason, you nodded obediently, trying your hardest to force your legs to move forwards. the man’s gaze refused to leave you as you dragged your feet over. then, a brief realization passed through your exhausted brain:

he’s not a poor dog, like i thought — he’s a full-fledged pack of rabid hounds, stuffed into a singular being.

you could only pray your sprint was fast enough.

[trippingontheescalator]

Sometimes I think this fandom forgets that the Marauders and Snape are boomers. I just saw an "rip Lily Evans you would have loved Dolly Parton" post and like... Dolly Parton began her career in the 60s. Lily most definitely would have listened to "Jolene" as a 13 year old kid. And as a fanfic writer myself, I don't want to unnecessarily dunk on anyone's hard work, but it is a pet peeve of mine when I search for fics set in the Marauders era during the 1970s and the characters all sound like they are heavily involved in 2024 tumblr discourse. These kids would have never heard the term "genderfluid." They would call themselves transsexual or a butch dyke and there would be 212% more cigarette smoke, just everywhere. Fuck there was a designated smoking area at my boomer parents' high school for students and so long as the parents signed the permission slip the kids could go there and smoke. This was incredibly common (at least in American high schools) pre-1980s. Like, I can see the Evans family playing a game of lawn darts, Mr Evans with a beer in one hand, a cigarette in his mouth, throwing highly dangerous lawn darts that would eventually be recalled because of all the deaths it caused. Severus Snape had most certainly absorbed lead from the leaded paint in his house. Nobody was going to call the cops on any abuse they might see going on in the Snape's house because its the 1960/1970s and "how Mr. Snape disciplines his son is his business." War rationing had just ended 6 years before Snape, Lily, and the Marauders were born. Mental illness was extremely taboo, dyslexia wasn't really recognized in schools or talked about until the 1980s, after the Marauders had graduated, a lot of people were still calling PTSD "shell shock." For Muggles, there was no real DNA testing (it was in its infancy), no cellphones you had to pray there was a payphone nearby, and you wpuld talk to a telephone operator. It wasn't until 1966 that the UK switched to an all-digit telephone numbers. Before then instead of an area code it was a central office in every city/region that used letters. So if Lily, as a six year old girl, wanted to talk to her grandma in Manchester, her mother would have dialed something like MAN-9126 (I actually have no idea what Manchester's central office code was lol, this is just an example). Cokeworth is likely a Victorian mill town, and the major push to replace outdoor plumbing with indoor plumbing didn't start until the 1960s. Severus would have most likely spent his early years without indoor plumbing while living in a rowhouse built in the 1860s. Tubs would have had to be filled by hand, laundry scrubbed by hand and hung out to dry, he would have used an outdoor toilet and considering he is in a poor urban area he most likely would have shared this toilet with his neighbors in the other rowhouses.

These characters' story are shaped by the time they lived in, and sometimes I think the fandom doesn't realize how different the 1960s and 1970s really was.

[pixieplushe]

over the course of watching arcane, vi absolutely stole my heart in more ways than one. her character is one of the most complex, misunderstood, and realistic out of the entire show

vi was shoved into prison at 15 years old, getting out 7 years later with nothing. every character in the show had somebody and moved on. ekko had the firelights, caitlyn had her family, jayce and viktor had each other, jinx had silco, sevika, then even isha. vi had no one. being locked away in such an environment, knowing full well you're the reason why your sister got taken by an evil man, does a number on you. vi had no chance to develop a sense of self, it is very prevalent in both seasons.

vi has little direction unless it's for someone else (which in turn is why i believe cait had a negative impact on her in s2 act 1, influencing her into being an enforcer + vi rationalizing it as a lesser of two evils, using the grey on chembarons vs allowing enforcers to storm the undercity). almost, if not every action she made was to help others, because she is so beyond selfless. it's her fatal flaw. like vander said to her, "you have a good heart". vi clings to people like glue because she cannot bear being alone again, letting the ones she loves slip through her fingers like sand.

she's just as traumatized as jinx, but her trauma is displayed in more subtle, self-destructive behavior as we see in episode 5 when she truly believed she lost everything again. which in turn is why I point to her being realistic, in real life it isn't obvious to spot when someone has trauma, it isn't supposed to be obvious. vi is the perfect example of that she finally got to choose for herself in the end, not be everyone else's plot device to make their lives better. i feel like she was written beautifully, everyone wants to dog on her for choosing to be in love? the past 2 seasons she chased jinx through every crack in the earth. she tried her damn hardest! jinx chose to cut the rope and let her be happy, let her go. much to vi’s dismay, we all know that was the last thing vi ever wanted. i love her so dearly, my favorite girl :(

(also, caitvi being canon makes me as a lesbian feel represented, i love them a lot. no more burying your gays trope! yay!)

[niyasruledbyvenus]

Arudha Lagna in the Signs

Arudha Lagna is how others perceive us (especially society/public/media). It is our projected and illusionary personality. Referred to as “the seat of Maya” Maya=illusion/Rahu. Which usually differs from our true personality represented by our Lagna/ Ascendant.

How to calculate Arudha Lagna?

1. Find your Lagna/ascendant the Lord (Aries ascendant-> Mars)

2. Count how many houses from your ascendant Lord to your ascendant. (ex. how many houses mars is from ascendant= 8 houses)

3. Count that same number from Ascendant lord. That is your Arudha Lagna (ex. 8 houses away from mars= Aquarius AL)

Benefics sitting in the Arudha can give a positive public image. Making one appear good and trustworthy, even if they aren’t.

Malefics sitting in the Arudha/or ruling the sign can tarnish one’s reputation, making the public distrustful or critical.

For example- Saturn, Mars, Rahu, Ketu sitting in AL can tarnish one’s reputation

Signs ruled by Malefics such as Scorpio (Mars & Ketu), Aries (Mars), Capricorn & Aquarius ( Saturn) doesn’t have as severe of an effect as a malefic siting in AL. But it does make one appear controversial or questionable to public at some point in time.

AL In Aries- Bold, competitive, intimidating, leader, pioneer, aggressive, action oriented, sexual/ promiscuous

Women tend to be accused of competing with other women or men competing with other men

Ex. Marilyn Monroe, Christina Aguilera, Muhammad Ali, Tyra Banks

AL in Taurus- Stable, grounded, Sensual, refined, gentle, patient, charismatic, trustworthy, noticed for voice, stubborn

Usually seen as harmless or down to earth. Like Libra, Venus ruled, they tend to be known for their sensuality & looks

Ex. Keanu Reeves, Rihanna, Michael Jackson, Bruno Mars

AL in Gemini- intellectual, witty, youthful, curious, versatile, social, communicative, recognition from siblings

Tend to be recognized for their unique voice

Ex. Beyoncé, Madonna, Rita Hayworth, Mariah Carey

AL in Cancer- Sensitive, Gentle, Homebody, Comforting, Nurturing, Proud of country/heritage/family, Protective, intuitive, Caring, Empathetic, Moody, emotional

Home dynamics or family life can be put on the spotlight. Others see them a caring, mother like figure (unless malefic influence)

Ex. Princess Diana, JonBenét, Brandy

AL in Leo- Charismatic, Authoritative, creative, dramatic, Natural Leader, Arrogant, Center of Attention, Performer/arts, fashionable, someone of importance, Extroverted

Spotlight is always on them so they tend to gain fame & attention in whatever they do. Type to feel like all eyes are on you when entering a room.

Ex. Al Capone, Catherine Hepburn, Halle Berry, The Weeknd

AL in Virgo- Analytical, practical, intelligent, resourceful, reserved, health conscious, detail oriented, logical, rational, educated

They come off as controlled and put together. Can’t get them to react easily.

Ex. Prince Harry, Bruce Lee, Jennifer Lawrence

AL in Libra- Charming, diplomatic, balanced, harmonious, sociable, peaceful, intellectual, good at negotiating/comunicating, influential, Justice seeking

Tend to be either known for their beauty, charisma, or justice/law industry.

Ex. Monica Bellucci, Oprah, lady Gaga, Aubrey Hepburn, Barack Obama

AL in Scorpio- Mysteroius, intense, powerful, secretive, magnetic, respected, morally grey, dark, sexual/sexy, controversial, sensual, occultist/witch/astrologer, taboo, hiding secrets, Spiritual dangerous, seductive

Due to malefic Mars/Ketu influence they do tend to be very controversial but despite this they still turn out to be respected

Ex. Angelina Jolie, Sharon Stone, Pamela Anderson, John F Kennedy, Jim Morrison, Bill Gates

AL in Sagittarius- Optimistic, philosophical, adventurous, independent, wise, free-spirited, benevolent, Justice seeking, educated, Humorous, experienced, travels a lot

They are seen as knowledgeable and in-tune with other cultures. They make good comedians, business owners, teachers

Ex. Jeff Bezos, Jacqueline Kennedy, Adam Ant, Demi Moore, Hugh Hefner

AL in Capricorn- Ambitious, disciplined, responsible, structured. authoritative, grounded, serious, mature, dignified, sturn, wiser than age, melancholy, pessimistic, cold

The list is questionable because Saturn influence can, like I said, make one appear questionable depending on other influences. But they make good leaders, business owners.

Ex. Lana del Rey, Adolf Hitler, Charlie Chaplin, Angela Merkel, Brad Pitt

AL in Aquarius- Innovative, unconventional, intellectual, humanitarian, forward-thinking, eccentric, unorthodox, friendly, good with media/technology, rebellious, cares about welfare of society/world, leader, influencer

People usually say their style, ideas & attitude are ahead of their time, due to Rahu.

Ex. Steve Irwin, Cher, Tamera Mowry

AL in Pisces-Spiritual, imaginative, empathetic, dreamy, otherworldly, artistic, siren like, mysterious, gentle, kind, serious, spiritual/devoted, adventurous, open-minded, philosophical, interested in higher learning/knowledge, introverted, emotional

Seen as creative, artistic (music, art, acting etc). Inventing/creating something new. Emotional imbalance/mental illnesses might get public attention

Ex. Denzel Washington, Will Smith, Elon Musk, Picasso, Ariana Grande

Disclaimer- some of the people I listed have two Arudha Lagnas (ie Scorpio Asc or Aquarius Asc) ex Princess Diana Cancer & Aquarius AL

I tried to find both positive & negative representations

Astromartine has a very knowledgeable playlist; going more in depth for each Arudha Lagna & Arudha houses

[guided-by-stars]

Siffrin deals with his anxieties (both rational and irrational) by performing rituals and compulsions. These rituals can become obsessive, especially in times of heightened stress, and often focus around either checking things, or numbers. They also deal with intrusive thoughts, with such frequency and intensity that it impacts their ability to function. Those...are all symptoms of OCD.

Let's define some terms, before we go into examples. What are obsessions in this context? This often refers to obsessive thoughts/anxieties/mindsets. These are prevalent, reoccurring, sometimes disturbing, often irrational fears. Intrusive thoughts are one example of this, though not all obsessions are intrusive thoughts. Intrusive thoughts are specifically unwanted and very distressing and often graphic thoughts or images in one's mind. An example of such is this:

Next, are compulsions and rituals. Compulsions are actions that one takes to break the obsession spiral. These either soothe the root fear (though usually temporarily), or quiet the disturbing thought or image. Rituals are "safe" compulsions, decided as such either by repetition or irrational logic. The wording that Siffrin uses when questioned about obsessive checking of pillars is as follows:

One of the most common mental justifications for compulsions is "But what if?". The perceived cost of performing a compulsion is often weighed as nothing against the potential of something truly awful happening. "What if?" carries a lot of weight for people dealing with OCD- often one knows that both the fears and the compulsions are irrational and logically one cannot control the Universe by tapping a certain amount of times on a table, checking for the tenth time if your alarm was set, or repeating a phrase multiple times in your mind. However, the weight of the potential fear is just so great that one cannot take the chance, even knowing that. This paradoxical position of both awareness and delusion that many with OCD have is called "OCD with insight" (1)

This post became....much longer than I planned, so the rest will be under the cut. Please read the rest though!!! There's so much more to it! ☆

The diagnostic criteria for OCD in the ICD (2) and the DSM (3) are relatively similar (though the DSM focuses a lot more on ruling out other causes for similar behavior like anxiety disorders and delusional disorders), and focus on the obsessions being self-sustaining and the rituals being often time consuming and frustrating to have to do. However, not all compulsions are even notable enough to the person to cause any frustration or discomfort, nor are all of them consciously done with any sort of logic behind them. It's quite common for people to perform compulsions without even having a reasoning for why (4).

Hey, weren't we talking about Siffrin ISAT? What's with all this research paper bullshit? Can't you just show me where in the game my blorbo shows signs of mental disorders???!?

Well, one example of rituals that Siffrin engages in is repeating phrases, either out loud or in their head. The number they tend to come back to, again and again, is three. This is shown when they are explaining Wish Craft, and despite the fact that the specific number of repetitions of your wish genuinely doesn't matter, just that it's repeated at all, they instinctively say to repeat your wish three times, before catching themselves and correcting their error.

...When Loop explains their Wish to Siffrin, they say it three times as well. "I wished it could be over. I wished I could get out of here. I wished for someone to help me."

Whenever Siffrin wants something to go right, throughout the game, he also almost always repeats his desired outcome three times.

It's a noticeable enough habit that his party members mention it, when in the trap room. They've noticed the ritualistic mumbling that he does whenever he wants something to go right.

It's not just when they want something to go right that they're doing it though. They repeat things three times when they're panicking, too, to calm themselves down. When they loop back after beating the king:

It's not even just thinking or saying things either, they take actions in threes too, to soothe themselves. After Kingquest:

You can see both thinking things in threes and acting in threes here. It's everywhere. If you look through the game again, you won't be able to help but notice how often they do things in threes.

Speaking of the coughing though, that's another one of the compulsions they do. Covering their mouth, coughing, gagging, they do all of those when trying to banish disturbing memories or thoughts from their mind.

After looping when refusing to try to say the name of their country when the King asks.

Notice again, they repeat "You know" three times. Like I said, you'll start seeing that EVERYWHERE now.

To note, if you try to say it once and try not to say it another time, you'll get this instead:

Three breaths, here.

I could go on, but I don't think I need to.

Another important factor when considering OCD is the need for control. People with OCD not only report a lower level of perceived control over their thoughts and actions, and not only tend to need a higher level of control than the average person to feel safe and comfortable, but also, the less control over their environment they have, the more that OCD symptoms often intensify. (5)

Siffrin is in a paradoxical position here, in regards to control. When they first realize they're in a timeloop, they're absolutely ESTATIC. The first bathroom break monologue exemplifies exactly WHY he's so euphoric at this point:

He's euphoric with CONTROL. No matter what happens, he can always try again. He's safe. He can keep everyone he loves safe. He has SO MUCH CONTROL.

When the illusion shatters, after he's dragged back when they beat the king, that's when he realizes how little control he actually has. Sure, he can decide when he loops (most of the time) but he can't decide to STOP looping. He's trapped. The more he tries to escape, the less control he seems to have (Eg, what happens to Bonnie). After that, we can see him start to have intrusive thoughts, engage in more ritualistic behavior, and end up in more unhealthy anxiety spirals.

...And, we see him lean into the little control he DOES have (looping) more. Any time he's in a stressful situation? Any time that the control he has over a situation starts slipping away? Is Bonnie yelling at him with tears in their eyes and telling him to die? Is Isabeau pulling away from their shaking grip on his collar? Is Odile confronting him on his suspicious behavior? Are things OUT OF CONTROL? ...Control is taken back. Forcefully. He can't handle loosing more control, not when he already feels so helpless and trapped.

Talking about the bathroom scenes, there's another one I want to point out. The first Friendquest run. It's the perfect example of delusional anxieties and compulsions used to quiet the distressing thought, rather than soothe them.

...Yeah.

Siffrin is suddenly overcome with the anxiety that the simple act of believing that his plan could work will somehow make it not come true anymore. This is an example of "magical thinking", or a belief that defies the scientific or culturally accepted laws of causality (eg. "If I step on a crack, my mother's back will break"). It's specifically an example of TAF, or "Thought-action fusion", which is the belief that one's mere thoughts can cause completely unrelated actions to happen in the real world. This is an essential part of how compulsions can genuinely relieve anxiety, and is actually one of the differences between those with other anxiety disorders and those with OCD. Magical thinking is essential to OCD. (6)

This exchange also showcases an example of how compulsions done to quiet rather than to soothe can sometimes involve self harming behaviors to "shake" the thought out of one's mind. In this case, him hitting his own head and focusing on the pain rather than on the thought. Most definitely not a healthy way to deal with it! But what else do we expect from Siffrin, honestly.

Another example of a self-harming compulsion being used to "shake" out a distressing and unwanted thought, also including a more minor example of magical thinking:

Researchers and psychologists have often attempted to divide OCD into subtypes. This has usually been done because different types of obsessions often demand different treatment plans. (7) The actual divisions have varied from researcher to researcher, but one type that consistently comes up, is harm OCD/moral OCD. (Of note, one person usually, but not always, fits into multiple subtypes. I personally think Siffrin fits into multiple) Harm OCD is characterized by a fixation on believing one is a bad person and causing harm to others, often despite others expressing the contrary. This often comes along with very intense self-criticism and judgement.

After repeating a Friendquest route multiple times:

Mal Du Pays fight:

Siffrin specifically is fixated on the worry that the knowledge that they gained by looping gives them an unfair power dynamic with their party, and taking any action informed by that knowledge means that they're taking advantage of them or forcing them to do what he wants. This is despite the fact that, no matter what he chooses to do, they are still autonomous beings who do what they want. He has less control than he thinks.

Also from the Mal Du Pays fight:

("You should've died for me. You should've died to protect me. You should've died to protect me.", "You can wish and wish and wish all you want.", "They'll forget you. They'll forget you. They'll forget you.")

And what of Loop? They're also a Siffrin, right? Examination of the self from an outside perspective has given them time to introspect a bit more. They directly name and point out one of Siffrin's rituals. @dormont pointed this out, in one of his posts. (8)

Loop says, here:

They understand why Siffrin is doing this. Siffrin is afraid that he'll forget again. There was no warning, before the Island vanished from everyone's mind. The coin is a physical reminder that he forgot his first family, that he can't forget this one too. He often rolls it in his pocket, but sometimes grips it tightly, or flips it. In his mind, touching it will prevent him from forgetting again.

Now this is fascinating when thinking about One Hat, because in that eventuality Siffrin, after failing to find Loop at the Favor Tree, leaves his coin where Loop used to sit. This shows that he's doing better mentally, in Act 6. That he trusts himself more to remember, that he doesn't need the coin anymore.

Throughout the game, Loop keeps the comedy mask glued tight to their starry face. Because of that (and the fact that we don't see inside of their head), we don't get to see much of their own obsessions or compulsions. But there is one time where their mask slips. During Two Hats.

When they start becoming more and more distressed, they fall back into repetitions of three:

And if they win the fight....

And after the fight...

But of course, it's not all in distress. What was I saying, at the start of the post? The other reason why Siffrin repeats things in threes? When he wants something to go right, right? When he has a desired outcome, when he's sharpening his knife, when he's carving a figure. "Please be sharp, please be sharp, please be sharp."? At the end of it all, as Loop is fading away:

"I'll see you again soon, I promise! I super promise! I super duper promise!"

And Siffrin understands exactly the intention and desire that they pressed into that repetition. After Loop is completely gone, they mirror their actions.

("You flip it once, twice, three times.")

("You will see each other again.")

Additional resources:

1: Taylor, E. (2020). Discordant knowing: A puzzle about insight in Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder. Mind & Language, 37(1), 73–93. https://doi.org/10.1111/mila.12301

(About the concept of insight in irrational cycles in OCD! Very interesting)

2: ICD 10: The complete official code set. Internet Archive. (2017).

(ICD 10, Account is needed to read the full thing)

3: American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.)

(DSM 5, for reference)

4: Starcevic, V., Berle, D., Brakoulias, V., Sammut, P., Moses, K., Milicevic, D., & Hannan, A. (2011). Functions of compulsions in Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder. Australian & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 45(6), 449–457. https://doi.org/10.3109/00048674.2011.567243

(Article about reasonings behind compulsions. Honestly I think a lot of the "other reasons" categorized here for compulsions are just...different manifestations of reducing anxiety. But it's still helpful to show how sometimes compulsions are done subconsciously)

5. Moulding, R., & Kyrios, M. (2007). Desire for control, sense of control and obsessive-compulsive symptoms. Cognitive Therapy and Research, 31(6), 759–772. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10608-006-9086-x

(Article around OCD and the need for control)

6. Kingdon, B. L., Egan, S. J., & Rees, C. S. (2011). The illusory beliefs inventory: A new measure of magical thinking and its relationship with obsessive compulsive disorder. Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy, 40(1), 39–53. https://doi.org/10.1017/s1352465811000245

(Article about magical thinking/TAF/history of the other studies done on the importance of them in OCD & creating a better framework to assess them)

(7) McKay, D., Abramowitz, J. S., Calamari, J. E., Kyrios, M., Radomsky, A., Sookman, D., Taylor, S., & Wilhelm, S. (2004). A critical evaluation of Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder subtypes: Symptoms versus mechanisms. Clinical Psychology Review, 24(3), 283–313. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cpr.2004.04.003

(Critical overview of the concept of OCD subtypes and what their purpose is)

(8)

(Eve's post :]. Check the replies for more elaboration!)

[astrobydalia]

Numerology observations

I've genuinely learned a lot from @novy2sirius when it comes to numerology so much so that it has helped me make so much sense out of many experience in my life. Therefore I wanted to share some numerology observations with all of you.

astrobydalia

People with 9 energy are so deceitful, they are easily seen as innocent. On the contrary people can see 9s as someone pretty suspicious because they have an air of mystery to them and are the kind of person who you think you know but actually you don't like at all. They always hide the most BIZARRE shit, I'm telling you their life is SO weird. This is how I see 9 people tbh lmao

I've never met a 11 life path person that was emotionally okay, but the weird thing is that they tend to want to lie to themselves and pretend they are okay all the time. All the ones that've met had diagnosed depression and spent big chunks of their lives in very VERY low lows like it's truly hard to watch. Also, random note but I've seen that they are secretly very resentful too and have a hard time letting go of things and moving on. Most of the 11 people I've met had Earth Moon or strong Saturn influence in their moon

Also, I met a 11 guy once who would often say "I have no doubt in my mind that I will be famous" lol (11 is rated to fame)

22 is a more chill number. I've seen more developed 22s than developed 11s. 22 people are very mature and level-headed, tend to have very balanced mindset for most things. However they tend to think they're the only ones who know best, they give good advice but suck at taking any.

So one of the things Novy said is that the date you meet someone in will be a significant energy in the relationship you have with them. Every person I've met on a 5 day are people I travel a lot with or people I've had long-distance relationships with (5 is related travel)

I don't have much experience with 2 energy but from what I've seen it is pretty mellow energy. The people with 2 energy are pretty harmless individuals even when they have other intense energies going on

I get along with 7 life path people cause I'm a 5 but something I've noticed about these people is that they really do struggle making genuine connections "from the heart" if that makes sense. They always rationalize getting in and out of a relationship giving more importance to practical/beneficial reasons rather than emotional ones. When they do try to follow their heart they fail miserably cause they confuse making decisions from their heart with total recklessness

Life path 1 people are so.... immature. And have very obvious anger issues. They have the patience and emotional regulation of a toddler, really do embody the Aries stereotype. At their worst they can be pretty intolerant towards other's pov. Yeah life path 1 is very passionate and driven and all and I do get along with them but I also tend to keep at arms length a little cause they're energy is very chaotic and destructive tbh

Let me tell you too that unhealthy life path 1 people are one of the most CRUEL and mean people I've ever seen like... it's giving blood lust (not literally but you know what I mean)

Life path 6 can indeed be caring and generous but I've met a lot of them who are actually very selfish, greedy and materialistic. It's like they see life mostly through the lens of material gain. They literally remind me of this clip fr.

I have good experience with 6 people tho. My manager for example is a 6 life path and I literally don't know what I'd do without him, he's so patient, always there when I need him and is always on my side even when I mess up. 6 people are also very good at setting healthy boundaries too

A lot of the life path 6 I've met had taurus placements or where earth doms astrologically

The number I struggle getting along with the most is 4 tbh. They are huge party poppers even when they're healthy and have more need for control than 8s imo. A lot of 4 people I know are the type to rain on your parade for no reason in the name of being "realistic" but really they're just being bitter imo. I know 4 people have a hard life but I've noticed they tend to often have this attitude of "if I couldn't be happy then you can't either"

What I've noticed with 8 people is that yes they can be controlling but it's not like they go around policing others like 4s do. 8s control in a very subtle and indirect way, it really reminds me a lot of scorpio energy/8th house placements. It's more like they keep in control in any situation by staying low-key and are the kind of people that is hard to knock down, yet they know how to get under other's skin

I'd describe 8s as more domineering. They can be pretty chill, fun and won't mess with anyone as long as they feel like they have the upper hand in situations. That's why they are stubborn af and refuse to be wrong and why they do not react well AT ALL to animosity. This also means that at their worst tend to have HUGE superiority complex and will minimize others and be condescending just to feel superior

One time I witnessed an argument between a 1 and an 8 (it was messy) and even tho the 8 person was wrong imo they made the 1 person back down eventually (which, if you know how 1s are, that's a huge thing) and from that experience I learned that you're better off disagreeing with a 1 than disagreeing with an 8

People with 3 energy have such a refreshing energy I love them!!!! The type to keep a young spirit regardless of their age but like in a good way. Their sense of hope and optimism can't be crushed, all the ones I've met were the kind of people who always knew how to bounce back from difficult situations.

astrobydalia

[meguwumibear]

Three Little Words

After 48 hours of radio silence, Zayne decides to pay you a visit.

TW: omegaverse (alpha!zayne and omega!reader), brief oral (f) receiving, brief fingering, unprotected piv sex, knotting, minor scent kinkiness

You’re ignoring him.

You are.

In fact, you’ve been ignoring him for a whopping forty-eight whole hours. The two-digit number seems absurdly large to him—there are, after all, nearly nine-thousand hours in a year—but reminding himself of the scale does little to dispel the budding anxiety that begun to eat away at him after the first twenty-four.

It’s not like he expects you to answer all his calls or respond to all his texts. Zayne understands that you’re probably busy, that your dangerous work keeps you from your phone and that your needy friends often siphon away the remainder of your energy forcing you to party with them. His rational mind can think of ten, twenty, thirty different reasons why you haven’t responded to any of his texts, but his emotional mind—the mind in which he cages his alpha—ignores them all.

Two days without so much as a peep from you simply is unusual. It just isn't like you to leave him on delivered or send him straight to voicemail. Typically, when conversation begins to lull—he’s never been particularly good at carrying one—you often bombard him with lines of emojis he must decode like hieroglyphics just to drag out the exchange.

Though he knows he should let sleeping dogs lie, accept—like any rational man would—that sometimes texts go unanswered, especially texts punctuated with curt, dark periods instead of the welcoming curve of a question mark, he cannot. He doesn’t understand what he did to drive this wedge between him and you, but he is determined to remove it.

He spends the drive to your place convincing himself his visit is purely clinical; once he confirms your radio silence is a result of acute emotional distress and not life ending injury, he’ll leave you alone to sulk. Though he’s certain he is easily the best receptacle for your anger or anxiety or whatever it is you may be feeling, he will allow you to process the emotion however you deem necessary, even if that means ignoring him.

The sharp sound of his knuckles rasping against your sturdy doorframe echoes loudly around the abandoned hallway, disturbing the precarious peace. Zayne takes deep, steadying breaths as he waits for you to answer, hoping his concern hasn’t etched itself into his flesh or colored his skin.

It takes longer than it should for you to respond to the knock, and it soon becomes clear why. The door creaks open barely a fraction of an inch, but he can smell the silken honey of your heat laden scent anyway. The thick, heady odor sticks to your dewy skin.

Your bloodshot eyes widen in surprise when you see him, and Zayne’s sensitive nose doesn’t miss the way your scent changes as your, no doubt, foggy mind registers that an unclaimed alpha now stands before you, willing—maybe—but definitely able to provide you with a much needed knot. It sours briefly, before transforming into something down right syrupy sweet.

“Zayne,” you whimper, and oh how he’s always loved the sound of his name in your mouth, how the ‘z’ vibrates between your teeth, how the ‘aye’ sits in the back of your pallet, how the ‘n’ so sonorously slips out between your slightly parted lips. “Sorry, I-”

You slowly blink at him through dark, matted lashes, lids heavy, pupils blown wide. Whatever it is you want to apologize for stays stuck in your throat. White teeth worry at chapped lips as your eyes slip from him. They fixate on the dark toes of his shoes.

“Let’s get you back inside,” he says, voice steadier than expected given the animalistic way his mind and body are responding to your debauched state. His pants, for example, feel a good deal tighter than they did when he first pulled them on this morning.

You don’t open the door to accommodate him, and—despite the urgings of his inner alpha—Zayne doesn’t bully his way inside. He is in control of himself, of the shaking hands that yearn to press a cool palm against your feverish forehead, of the restless legs that itch to close the distance between him and you. Even as saliva begins to well in his mouth as he takes in lungful after lungful of pure, unadulterated need, Zayne is in control.

“But,” you protest weakly, lithe fingers gripping the doorway for support, “I’m in heat.”

Yeah, he knows. He can smell you.

“I understand,” he replies, wishing for maybe the first time ever to rid himself of the adhesive patches that help keep his scent at bay. His covered glands itch as they strain against the dense medicinal covers, secreting what little soothing hormones the compact space allows. “I want to help.”

Your brows knit together as you digest what he’s shared. Then your lower lip begins to wobble and salty tears begin to streak steadily down your darkened cheeks as you let out an absolutely gut-wrenching sob.

Both Zayne and his alpha recoil at the raucous little hiccups that escape from your throat as you try unsuccessfully to choke back your cries. Wolfish instincts scream at him to comfort you, but he isn’t sure how to without crossing any of the carefully maintained boundaries that the relationship he has cultivated with you are built on.

Tentatively, he places his palm against the cold surface of your door and begins to gently push at the barrier, just hard enough for you to register his ask. You could stop the door from opening, if you really wanted. You could stop him from entering too. Instead, you take a cautious step back away from the entrance, and allow him to shoulder his way inside.

First things first: he makes his way over to your kitchen and fills a glass with water. Omegas in heat need to stay hydrated, but their hormone addled bodies sometimes forget to complete even the most basic activities of daily living in the pursuit of a knot. If he had to guess, you haven’t had anything to eat or drink in at least twenty-four hours.

Which is why he can’t understand why you eye the hydrating liquid so suspiciously. You need it. Your already sore muscles will cramp without it. Your head will begin to ache. Hydration is a basic part of tending to oneself in rut or heat, and you’re already on, what, day two?

“You need to drink,” he tells you, which, to his confusion, only makes you cry harder. Omegas are prone to crying spells during heats—especially when they are unable to fulfil their sexual needs—but the tears are usually a result of happiness and pleasure. Something must be terribly wrong if the thought of drinking water has brought you to tears. Like he said at the door, he wants to help you through this. He’s trying to take care of you. Can you really not understand that?

“’m okay,” you slur out between sobs. “Thank you for checking on me. You can go now.”

Zayne blinks at you as if clearing his vision will make clear for him why you’re in such emotional distress. He doesn’t doubt your tears were brought on as a side effect of your heat, but your heat alone doesn’t fully explain the way your scent keeps getting sicker and sicker as you stare at the water he’s offered.

“And, why would I do that?” he asks.

“Because,” pause for another chest-rattling cry you’re unable to swallow down, “because you don’t like omegas.”

Hold on. What?

Zayne closes the gap between the two of you in three deceptively calm strides, water forgotten on the counter. He tucks his index finger beneath your chin and lifts it so that you’re forced to look him in the eyes. Yours begin to wander—looking anywhere other than at his—but they eventually settle where he needs them.

“What ever gave you that impression?”

Your eyes flick to his neck, where, hidden beneath his shirt collar, two scent patches prevent him from producing the aromatic oils his body, an alpha’s body, naturally creates to attract omegas, to attract mates. It occurs to Zayne suddenly the last time you ever caught his natural scent may have been the day before he left you all those years ago.

“That’s not why I wear them,” he tells you. Well, that’s not technically why he wears them anyway. The patches do keep away omegas, but they also help him wrangle his alpha. He doesn’t like how strongly he smells. Doesn’t want to stink up the office or operating room. Doesn’t want to scare his patients. And, he certainly doesn’t want to attract any omega who isn’t…

“Take them off?” you ask as your body begins to list towards him.

He lets you press yourself against his chest and nuzzle your nose against his pec. His scent is probably strong there, though he imagines whatever smell sticks to his chest is faded and dulled. The active ingredient in his soap is meant to neutralize his body’s natural odors.

“I can’t,” he says, as you continue rub your face against him, nose traveling left of his pec to the crevice of his armpit, where his scent is likely the most potent.

“Please,” you beg, neck straining to resume eye contact, if only so you can blink beseechingly at him with red-rimmed, doe-like eyes. “You said you want to help.”

“I do,” he affirms. He rubs soothing circles into your back to placate you. Perhaps if the two of you had discussed this prior—what you like and dislike in the bedroom—he could do more for you, but he doesn’t want to take advantage of you in your primal state. “Do you have any heat aids?”

 Your cries have softened, no longer the violent, rib-splitting wails from earlier, but the tide of tears hasn’t completely stopped. He thumbs a few stragglers away, and you lean eagerly into his touch.

“Don’t want a heat aid,” you tell him, tongue darting out of your mouth to wet your dry lips. Zayne can’t tell if you’re intentionally trying to rile him up, or if you’ve surrendered completely to your inner omega. “I want your knot.”

Zayne strokes your cheek with his thumb, “I can’t give you that today.”

“Why not?” you ask him, squirming a bit to reposition yourself. Too late does Zayne realize you’re pushing your body firmly against his groin, “I can smell how much you want me. Your scent patches don’t mask the salt of your cum.”

Damn his alpha biology.

But, you’re not wrong; he does want you. He’s wanted you from the moment he first presented. He could picture, even then, sucking the smooth skin of your neck into his mouth and sinking his incisors deep into the depths of your scent gland, claiming you, mating you. That’s why he wears patches. That’s why he takes pills. His alpha craves you with a ferocity that he struggles to bring to heel.

“That’s your heat talking,” he replies, though he knows the words are a lie even before they leave his mouth. The patches and pills may keep his scent at bay, but they do nothing to suppress yours. It always sweetens when he’s near, and sours when you part. He’s spent every year since reconnecting with you attempting to convince himself that your scent changes like that around all capable alphas, not just him. That’s how scents work, right? They change based on the parties present. They communicate what a person feels.

“You’re wrong,” you snarl, top lip hiking in anger. “Stupid too, if you really believe that. Are you stupid Doctor Zayne?”

The answer to that, it turns out, varies depending on the circumstance. It would be stupid of him, for example, to carry you to your bedroom and tuck you back into your nest—his eyes find a few of his missing ties near the foot of the bundle, and he chooses not to dwell on what that could mean. It would be stupid of him to help you peel the sweat-soaked cotton t-shirt that you tossed on to greet him away from your sticky, moist skin. All this, would of course, be stupid of him because it just makes him want you more, more, more.

He does all this anyway.

“I’ll behave,” you whine, legs instinctually falling open, hands wandering south towards your glistening folds to part your lips for him.

Zayne tears his eyes away from your squirming form, determined to preserve what he can of your dignity.

“That isn’t the issue,” he says. The dulcet squelch of you playing with yourself takes up residence in his head, right behind his temple. He wonders how many times you’ve brought yourself to the brink of an orgasm within these past forty-eight hours, hoping to alleviate the lecherous itch only to agitate it further.

“Then what…”

The squelching stops. Zayne chances a glance at you, at your face only, not the supple flesh of your thighs or plumpness of your breasts or plush skin of your ass. Zayne is a gentleman in perfect control of himself. He’s thinking only about providing for you in your time of need. He is not thinking about crawling between your spread legs and attaching his tongue to your cunt. Not actively anyway. Those thoughts are intrusive, out of his control.

“Have you considered the risks?” he asks gently, eyes still glued to your face. Just your face. Just your lips and your nose and your lashes. Just your temple and forehead and cheek.

“What risks?” you demand.

“I’m not wearing teeth guards.”

He tried a few times, but the rubbery caps never sat right in his mouth.

“So?”

Astra save him do you even know what you’re insinuating?  

“I could bite you,” he patiently explains.

“And?”

And mate you, his alpha brain unhelpfully supplies. You clearly want him too. Your neck keeps lolling to the side, baring your unprotected, raised scent gland to him. Traitorous fingers move without his blessing. A thumb presses down on the slippery skin, coaxing out some of its oils. You let out a sanguine sigh.

“Zayne,” you whimper, arching yourself further off the bed, pressing your leaking gland against the pad of his thumb. “Alpha.”

What a dangerous word. One you’ve never said like that before. It’s always spit out, harsh and angry, accompanied with the roll of your eyes. Now, you drag out each and every syllable, savoring the weight of the vowels on your tongue.

“You really don’t have a heat aid?” he asks. He doesn’t understand how you’ve made it through all your past heats without one, unless you’ve heat shared with someone else, with someone who isn’t him. One of your coworkers does seem unusually attached to you…some painter you met on the job does too. Something ugly coils in his gut at the idea of anyone else seeing you like this. “We’ll have to purchase you one for the future. Until then…”

Until then what? He really, truly shouldn’t touch you anymore than he already has. Not without your explicit consent. Which you can’t give in this state. Maybe he could use his fingers to satisfy you? His whole fist if needed. He isn’t sure what your pussy is able to accommodate or what will simulate the feeling of fullness you’re craving. If his fist isn’t an option, it’s possible you have something thick and phallic around the apartment somewhere.

Trying to picture the different ways to satisfy your needs proves fatal. The hallucinogenic lucidity with which he can suddenly picture you all fucked out on his fist nearly sends him into a fit of hysterics. Gods he hasn’t even touched you, yet he can feel a wet patch blooming in his briefs from his pre.

He needs to focus on something else. Fast.

There’s no heat aid, no silicone toy, no faux phallus he can use to help you. The only instrument in his possession is himself. He looks at your neat little nest—it’s a sparse, thin thing in need of additional blankets and shirts—and you seem to understand the question forming in his mind.

“Please,” you beg, your voice a siren song, drawing him near, pulling him under. When he doesn’t immediately succumb to the melody, the next noise out of you is a piercing, high-pitched trill.

Even if he wanted to, Zayne couldn’t stop his alpha instincts from responding to the call. His knees give out, and he topples onto you, long, stiff limbs tangling with yours. A disembodied hand claws at one of his scent patches, ripping the oppressive thing away from his neck so he can rub himself against your skin and scent you proper.

“Thought you said you would behave,” he pants once he has thoroughly coated you with his oils. His inner alpha screams at him to remove the rest of his patches, to let his scent mix and mingle with your own.

“Thought you said you would help,” you huff. Then, your lower lip begins to tremble. When you bare your neck to him this time, it isn’t to titillate or tempt him, but to hide the onslaught of tears that you can’t stem in the pillow by your head. “Do you not like me?”

Fuck. Maybe he is stupid. So stupid. Oh-so-terribly stupid.

“I like you,” he says, pressing his lips against your temple. Your breath begins to steady, so he repeats the three little words again and again and again until your heartbreaking sobs finally stop and your head is no longer buried in your pillow like an ostrich’s in the sand.

“I like you. I like you. I like you a lot.”

If he could effectively communicate just how much he likes you, he would, but he isn’t sure how he could possibly transcribe into written or spoken word his all of his mawkish affections. There is no language in all of history that could accurately allow him to share the characters or alphabet of his soul with you. So, instead of telling you, he’ll have to show.

He peppers wet, open mouth kisses that are more tongue than lip all the way down your body—shoulder, breast, naval—sparing no patch of skin, acutely aware of the spit forming in his mouth at just the slightest bit of your taste.

You taste like all of his favorite things. Like mooncakes and macaroons and the strange foreign sugar-infused, sometimes doughy, sometimes flaky pastries he gorges himself on to satisfy his insatiable sweet tooth. Danishes. Croissants. Pain au chocolat. Crepes.

The sheets beneath your cunt are soaked through with your fluids, which, his alpha brain tells him is an absolute waste. The licks he begins to lavish your folds with are born of salacious desire. There’s no skill or method. No rhythm or pace. Just his tongue against and your pussy and raw, animal instinct to lick. To devour. To taste.

He slips the muscle inside you, deep as he can get it, and he feels your walls constrict around it in an effort to fill itself up. If you weren’t in the throes of heat, he’d take his time with you—warming you up on his tongue, lapping away at your slick—but right now, you need more than what his tongue can provide. Two steady, long fingers replace his tongue, reaching, further, deeper into you. They slip in too easily, so he quickly adds a third. Index. Middle. Ring. All pumping in tandem against you, working you towards a release.

“More,” you whine, sinking deeper onto his fingers, stopping only when your hips kiss his knuckles.

Zayne uses the fingers already inside you to test the stretch of your walls, scissoring all three apart. Your pussy accommodates the spread with ease, so he slowly slides in the requested fourth, slotting his pinky up against his ring, its descent aided by the natural lubricant your body so dutifully supplies.

He swipes at your clit with his thumb, assessing the sensitivity of the tiny bundle of nerves. You flinch violently as he grazes it, body seizing as if electrocuted, which is a pretty apt comparison. That’s how the nervous system works, after all. A series of electric impulses traveling from neuron to neuron, carried from branching dendrites to sturdy axons to minute synaptic bulbs.

“Knot,” you beg, plead, pray. “Please alpha—Zayne. I wanna cum on your knot.”

Zayne’s throat bobs as he swallows down all the saliva that’s been pooling in his mouth. A knot is, technically, the quickest, most effective way for him to help you through your heat. If he wants to get food and water into you, he first needs to satiate your more libidinous needs.

It’s just, Zayne is your senior, your doctor, your friend. He is reasonable, responsible, rational, and his reasonable, responsible, rational brain begins to bombard with him a series of excellent questions. Questions like: What if it’s only your omega that wants him? What if all current desires are only present due to an influx of confusing hormones? What if, once the dregs of heat have abated, you’re horrified to discovered what actions you took in the midst of it?

What if—his inner alpha, which is not reasonable or responsible or rational but rather horny and base and hopeful chimes in—you really do want him? What if you always have? What if you’ve spent all your past heats alone because he never offered to spend them with you? What if you never had to spend a heat alone ever again?

“You really want it?” he asks, just to be sure. He doubts in the short span of time it took him to come up with the question, you’ve changed your mind, but he needs to hear you say it at least once more.

“I want it,” you affirm. “I want you.”

Zayne never could deny you.

He crawls out from between your legs and up your body so that he can lock eyes with you.

“Okay,” he relents. Most medical texts argue that omegas in heat retain some of their basic faculties. They can and do verbalize protests against incompatible alphas. If you keep asking for him, for his knot, that means there is a part of you that really, truly wants it, “but I want to discuss this further after. Once this wave dies down and we get some food in you.”

You seal the deal with a kiss to his jaw.

Zayne moves as slowly as you allow him to, which isn’t very slow at all. Now that he’s agreed to knot you, you are an unstoppable force of carnal desire. Each time he tries to kneel to kick off his slacks, you pull him in for another messy, open mouth kiss. His boxer briefs, at least, are easy to shirk due to the elasticity of the cotton, and his cock is fully hard with the beginnings of a knot already forming at the base.

He rubs the tip against your slippery folds a few times before sinking balls deep inside your wet, hot cunt in one smooth thrust.  The taste of your sweet nectar still lingers on his tongue like a fantastical philter, keeping him drunk on you as his hips piston with purpose into and out of your pulsating core. His eyes find your swollen, unmarked scent gland and narrow at the thin, sleek skin. He slots his lips against your own to keep his teeth away from your drooping. vulnerable neck.

You cum before he even gets his fingers on your clit, pussy seizing around the swelling bulb of his knot. He always imagined his first time with an omega would feel earth shattering, but his fat knot slips in with a quiet, anticlimactic pop. Your greedy cunt clamps around it, and he cums with the thing pressed up against your womb, cock spasming against your tight walls. The sensation isn’t earth shattering, but it’s right. A key in a lock clicking into place. He is sheathed inside you and it feels good.

Sexually satisfied, you manage to nod off, coming to only when his knot has deflated enough for him to safely slip it out of you. Like a good alpha, he planned to grab you some water and snacks to refuel, but in your hazy, post orgasm state, you refuse to let him leave you alone, so he must bring you with him as he rummages around your kitchen for something caloric to feed you.

Only once he’s certain your belly is full and your mind is temporarily clear does he ask if you want him to spend the rest of your heat with you. The look you give him brings your earlier question to the forefront of his mind.

(Are you stupid, Doctor Zayne?)

Apparently, he is.

Because he could have had this years ago.

Because this feeling has always been mutual.

Because he’s going to make you his.

[arouravis]

✳︎ 𝟶𝟸 𝙰𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙻𝙾𝙶𝚈 𝙾𝙱𝚂𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 : 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎!

✿ 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝!

𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝟷𝚜𝚝 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎:

Having this placement is challenging, yes. But on the brighter side of this placement, once you’re in a place of transformation. You’ll come to realize that certain people are genuinely not for you!

Feeling out of place or not “worthy” can be a strong indication of strong discernment. Think about it from the perspective of how things are a certain way for a reason. Only people who are truly meant to be a part of your life are supposed to be around you. You don’t need a big friend group to feel important.

I'll also say with this placement, there more likely to be popular on the internet than in real life imo. They’re able to show a side of themselves to the masses without having to go out of their way to feel embarrassed or not worthy to be apart of the collective that is “society.”

Ex: Every social media account I have made intending to connect with the masses has always had over 1k+ followers. And even right now, I’ve hit 100 followers in three days! I'm naturally meant to connect with the masses within the shadows lmao.

𝙰𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚜 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝟽𝚝𝚑 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 (𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚁𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐):

All y’all do is play! Constantly in and out of the dating scene. The type of people to always have someone on role-call when the other person you’re talking to isn’t acting right.

It’s like walking in and taking shifts, you think they’re with one person for like 6-8 months, the whole time they’re on the suitor behind door number 3 lmao. It’s genuinely not something they mean to do, but they move on quick if you’re not acting right.

The type of people to date anybody! They aren’t exactly picky people when it comes to love, but they damn sure have standards.

Lastly, stop dating these creatures that have fallen out of heaven and crawled their way into earth. Please treat your body, mind, and spirit, like the temple that it is.

𝚃𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚜:

EYE LOVE….. I love Taurus moons. One of the best placements to have ever in all time. These people will understand you from head to toe, and front to back. Will support you, be there for you, and set an example of what exactly a true and stable friendship should be! I’ve only encountered two Taurus moons in my life, and those people are truly the only ones who have ever understood me for me! This is the type of person that can be a strong pillar in your life. This is someone who will probably be one of those friends that you’ve known since 4 and grew up to pay taxes together.

That’s what I love about them, they’re so stubborn in their ways of emotion and compassion. It’s hard to let someone with a Taurus moonwalk away from you because they don’t want to leave! They want to talk and express how they feel, they want to be there for both of you, and they desire longevity and comfort within any relationship. And that’s something I care so deeply for and truly speaks to me.

The way they relay advice is phenomenal, they relate to you and show you their ethos. Whilst also staying level-headed and emotionally mature. They are rational and not afraid to put someone in check!

On the other hand, people with this placement can have issues with taking too much time. A tendency to be late, or be VERY indecisive.

But besides that, there’s no other person like them in this world. We all need someone with a Taurus moon, I LOVE YOU.

𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚒𝚘 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗:

Y’know all the bad rep that Scorpio suns get for being liars and this, that, and the third? It’s Scorpio Moon's fault! Scorpio suns may lie, but they do it for a reason. Scorpios like to keep things hidden about themselves or certain situations... Scorpio moons do it because they know they have the free will to do so!

It’ll be the tiniest, most random thing that they lie about. It's like they'll tell you the sky is purple, knowing damn well it's blue. And they know that you know they are lying, and they physically enjoy that. It’s come to the point where I will actively tell them they are lying and they’ll act like a poor kitty with its tail tucked away between their legs and with a stupid smug smirk… BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU’RE GUILTY!!

𝚅𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚘 𝙹𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝟸𝚗𝚍 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎:

If you don’t have money/stability… do not come to their town. They are very bougie and picky with what they like. They’re easily able to spot when things are not “high quality.” And treat them and their body like the temple that it is… and they will judge you for not following suit.

They'll say things like:

Oh… you’re eating that? You're better off not doing that.

I would never wear something like that.

This is not worth the price that it’s for! It should be xyz!

You think a libra Venus knows high quality until they walk in the room…. And the thing is, they try to come off as pleasant as possible when saying it. Because they are genuinely concerned for your well-being.

Absolutely spoiled rotten, never has to worry about finances unless they have to actively pay for something on their own lol. Has their parents on speed dial for a quick 10 bucks. These people have a village who is willing to pour into them because they know they are deserving of the financial comfort an flexibility that they are accustomed to.

✿ 𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜

[bouquetface]

Predicting Important Relationship Events through Destiny Matrix Chart

PLEASE READ: I would not rely on destiny matrix over vedic charts, dasha periods & solar return charts. I find it is more useful to support/confirm or deny information you get from natal & dasha periods + sr charts. I understand others will have different views and thats fine - If you could share your own experiences in comments or ask that'd be great.

REAL LIFE EXAMPLES BELOW - WARNING: LONG POST

You may notice Person A & Person B have similar numbers for the same ages - despite that they have very different experiences.

Person A:

Meeting Someone:

Under the heart symbol, the number 22 appears - connected to that line is 18-22-4. This shows your partner could have traits of those tarot card - in this case 18 (The Moon) , 22 (The Fool) & 4 (Emperor).

Spouse will likely embody a mix of energy of the 3 numbers on your heart line. The number under your heart symbol will be the strongest in your partner.

4 - This shows meeting a person who symbolizes the Emperor card. Someone secure, knows what they want, possibly older or simply more stable. Potential negative traits stubborn, aggressive, controlling, demanding, etc.

18 - Prone to depression + escapism. Truthfully, this shows possibility of deception/illusions. Positives: strong intuition, creative, imaginative.

22 - Someone youthful, optimistic, takes risks/desires new beginnings. Ambitious, spontaneous possibly to the point of being impulsive.

When any of these numbers appear on the outer circle, this is when you could have important developments in your relationships. EX: This person with 22 under their heart symbol met their spouse at 22 - the outer circle shows the age of 22 being connected to 22/The Fool.

The Fool/22 generally indicates new beginnings, freedom/breaking free, adventurous/travel, happiness/joy, social, etc. This is what this person experienced at the age of 22 - however their solar return vedic chart + dasha period supported all this too.

Marriage:

This same person married 24. Above the age of 24, is the number 5. 5 is connected to The Hierophant. What does heirophant have to do with relationships? It shows tradition, laws, etc. Marriage is tradition and a contract conforming to 5/hierophant energy. This doesn't mean everyone with 5 will get married - in this person's case solar return & vedic dasha periods indicated they would marry too.

Child:

This person had their first child age 25. Above their age 25 is 10 - Wheel of Fortune. Wheel of Fortune shows a year where it's truly up to fate and luck - people and events you encounter all depend on the good or bad karma you've been racking up. In this person's solar return and natal chart - a surprise child is indicated - you can say it was fate.

---

I have seen people list numbers that indicate new relationships and marriage based solely on tarot. I feel this doesn't show to be accurate in real life. For example: Person A and Person B have similar numbers on their outer line but experience drastically different romantic lives.

Person B:

This person has 15-5-8 on their heart line. This shows their spouse might have a mix of these energies:

15 (The devil) - Someone who enjoys control. Powerful person. Concerned with their reputation, materialism & their worldly desires. Someone capable of manipulation & deception.

5 (The hierophant) - Traditional, prideful, good morals, law abiding, possibly conservative in politics or in style.

8 (The Justice Card) - Balanced. Fair. Rational. Logic over emotional reactions. Good morals.

RELATIONSHIP ONE

They met their first partner at 17 - when they had an 8 year. 8 is connected to their heart line. 8 is the Justice card - interestingly this partner went into Law.

They broke up at 18 when this person had a 19 year. 19 is the Sun card. This is a year where problems can come to light, aggression can be a problem, you can be more public this year.

This person broke up with their partner due to the partner's vulgar behaviours. After the breakup, they received a lot of public attention - just a lot of high school gossip bullying type behaviour.

RELATIONSHIP 2

They met their next partner at 19 - where they had a 4 year. 4 doesn't seem to have any connection to their heart line. This is why I don’t rely on destiny matrix to show actual events - more so it’s the general energy of that year. However, relationship was indicated in the solar return and dasha periods.

Although, the partner they met and dated had 4 energy - stable living on their own, did physical labour work - hardworking, 5 years older.

They broke up at 22. At the age of 22, they had a 22/The Fool year. This energy brings new beginnings, breaking free, etc. This was indicated in solar return as well.

This is also why I think posts listing numbers based on tarot cards is usually inaccurate. This person broke up with their partner in a 22/The Fool year. While Person A met their spouse in a 22/The Fool year. Same card/number but two opposite experiences.

Marriage:

I have done vedic marriage timing technique on this person. It shows marriage at 27. Their destiny chart supports this as over age 27 is the number 8.

23 seems to be when they'll meet their next partner based on solar returns & 5 (the number under the heart symbol) being over the age of 25.

[wealtschmerz]

top search result was the Wikipedia article for therapy

googling "how to keep yourself from thinking about your ex as a diversion from tasks you don't want to do"

[xjulixred45x]

Jjk yanderes (gojo, choso, Nanami.. etc) with darling who just doesn’t give a damn about them being a yan. Like the yandere can kill someone or be extremely clingy, and the darling is just like 🤷‍♀️ cool who cares. Like they just accept it and continue, not rlly caring about how bad of a person their yandere is to other people, as long as they’re good to darling. If yan is extremely clingy, or “nicely” pressure darling to move in with them, darling is just like “ah okay 🤷‍♀️ free rent ig”

I live for willing darling supremacy

Yandere Satoru Gojo/Kento Nanami/Choso Kamo x Darling who dosen't care that they are Yandere

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: neutral

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, unhealty mindset, overbearing behavior, overprotection, darling is willing and is totally okay with Yandere being Yandere

Choso Kamo

• AWWWW CHOSO IS DEFINITELY THE BEST YADERE ON THE LIST.

• Not only is he a respectful Yandere who won't do anything Darling isn't comfortable with, but he's so damn sweet it's almost diabetic.

• In general, Choso is the most likely to have a willing Darling, because Choso probably doesn't even fall in love with a “normal person” in the first place.

• Most likely a curse user, for example, or with a strange ability that makes them socially rejected. Precisely generating a mutual empathy that evolves into something more.

• In Choso's case, he has never seen REAL romantic relationships before, he has no idea how to approach his romantic interest, so he ends up showing his affection in unorthodox ways.

• Like, for example: watching them in the middle of the night as they arrive home safely and without problems (if so, he will happily get rid of the problem).

• Give very personal gifts or bizarre gifts (that may or may not be stained with something red).

• Even going so far as to kidnap the reader if things get bad with the Curse users and he needs to “protect” them more closely.

• Choso genuinely doesn't realize how creepy and unhealthy all of this is, he rationalizes and justifies it with his own young mentality. He does not do it out of malice, it is genuine love, but tainted with misdirected actions.

• For the same reason, he doesn't even see anything strange in the fact that the reader is chill with the whole kidnapping. Just because it's the first time he's done this, was they supposed to react differently?

• Choso is so hungry for acceptance and affection that when the reader gives it to him without reservation, he simply melts and can't handle himself anymore. He had wanted this for so long and he didn't even know it.

• Choso is loving, he respects his Darling's wishes and tries to get them to act like his version of a “normal” couple.

• Probably the only Yandere on this list who would listen to the reader's recommendations and ideas, precisely because he knows that they have no malice. And like I said before, Choso prioritizes his partner's comfort above everything else, so he takes their opinion very seriously (LEARN SOMETHING GOJO)

• The most emotionally intelligent of the three, ironically. He is the oldest of ten children and is definitely good at comforting Darling. Always with open arms and dry shoulders.

• Protective at lethal levels, he will not blink to kill large numbers of people if they come between him and Darling.

• In general, he doesn't realize it at first, but it doesn't like it affects him in the long term. He knows reader is his and he is of reader. Forever.

Kento Nanami

• He is suspicious, A LOT.

• Nanami is one of the few self-conscientious Yandere in JJK, who at the same time takes a RIDICULOUS amount of time to finally take the next step in approaching his Darling and hitting it off.

• And when he does, it takes a STUPID amount of willpower and conviction for him not to simply push reader out of their life, even though reader is clearly miserable, Kento knows they would be even more so if they lived with a monster like him.

• But to his surprise, it is READER who keeps looking for him, it is READER who wants to talk to him and stay in touch. It's like they completely ignore all the red flags that Nanami shows every time they are together (overprotection, jealousy, even violence)

• By the same token, he finds it difficult to believe that anyone GENUINELY is okay with the kind of attitudes he has proven to have OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

• When Nanami demands (politely) that the reader move in with him, he expected to have to resort to some manipulation tactic, to have to make the reader feel OBLIGED to do it, but the only thing he encountered was a “Okay, free rent”

• I MEAN???

• You can't blame the man for feeling confused.

• Nanami tries to give his Darling more space than Gojo, but at the same time he is so overprotective that it almost seems the opposite. He is able to put cameras in the house, have the reader wear an ankle bracelet when he is traveling, do regular medical checkups to ensure they are not sick, etc.

• Also Kento will not allow any item that could be useful for the reader to harm themself, putting a lock on the knife cabinet, putting razors out of service, even not allowing shoes with strings (in more extreme cases)

• HE DOES ALL THAT AND THEY HOPE HE'S NOT SUSPICIUOS???

• However, when Darling tells him why, it puts it a little more into perspective.

• Reader is not with Nanami because he is harsh and demanding with everyone, reader is with him because of how delicate and sweet Kento is with them, how he is patient with them, how he tries to improve their day, whether by bringing them food or trying to be emotional, how he cares for them.

• The reader doesn't care about others, they only cares about KENTO. And Kento doesn't care about others, he only cares about Darling.

• From here on, things improve, Nanami is no longer so paranoid, the reader gains certain freedoms by showing that they is genuinely voluntary (like being able to go out with Nanami, go shopping together, etc.)

• It is a new domestic environment, much calmer and happier.

• Nanami's Yandere tendencies are even taken down a notch. After all, why be jealous of someone who is already yours? Obviously he will take good care of them, but he knows he can trust them and they can trust him.

• They are a mutually twisted couple. But they love each other, at the end of the day. That's what's important.

Satoru Gojo

• Oh, he's ENJOYING this like you have no idea.

• I think the ideal Darling for this scenario would be someone who has had a bad time in life, someone who has hardly experienced love. Quite the opposite, Satoru, for the same reason he felt as attracted to the reader as he did.

• Some of them did it out of obligation, saving the weak, no matter how exhausting it may be, however, the reader ended up finding it more and more… more interesting. More intoxicating.

• He expected fighting, screaming and crying. But instead he was simply met with acceptance, resignation, indifference to his advances. Like they didn't care how obviously HARMFUL he was.

•Although, Gojo is self-centered enough to believe that his Darling loves him even if they doesn't, so by acting on his expectations they is only inflating his massive ego.

• I think he would be the only Yandere that no matter if the reader is voluntary or not, he is still one of the worst to have.

• Although of course, it's not so bad for a reader who is okay with it.

• Gojo is a very affectionate Yandere who is very erratic and definitely likes to have his “partner” around to ensure that they are within reach. Under His protection and control.

• With a willing reader, Satoru would be slightly softer, as he doesn't even think that this could be a trick, he can see through them after all.

• That means, more gifts, more pampering, and after a certain time, more freedoms. It's not a big deal, it's just walks to the park or in the car. But this reader has many more privileges, such as internet access, more space, etc.

• even Satoru tends to listen to them more because he knows that they do not “play”, because he respects them more than if they were involuntary (in that case he would probably look down on them to determine dominance, but here it is not even necessary!)

• As time goes by, Gojo would even start bringing Reader to his workplaces, simply because he can't keep his hands to himself, he is just confident enough that Reader isn't going to run away, and what do you think? They don't!

• If Satoru ever hears the reasoning behind why the reader stays with him, he would partly laugh, he honestly thinks it's funny that they only does it for the rent and being alone.

• However, this can quickly evolve into anger at whoever has hurt the reader in the past. With Gojo, no one gets away with it.

• He's a jealous Yandere, even if he's sweet and cuddly, he's always VERY close to just killing the entire mall every time they go shopping for new clothes. It's the custom.

• Fortunately, it seems that the reader knows what they've gotten themselves into, so I wouldn't worry about them, I'd worry about anyone who has done something to them in the past, because now they have some kind of nuclear bomb for a boyfriend.

• Good luck!

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

I'll update a little later bc i'm with a new medication for the Anemia thingy, but not worry! I'll still take Requests until about 10 of febraury.

I'm kind of missing taking Request of forgoten fandoms in the blog(like Voltron, Slugterra, Dororo(Tahomaru My Child), ahhhhh, the good Old days)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Tactics of Persuasion

Phantom dreams

Story-telling

Tailored pitches

Source credibility and authority

Social consensus and social identity

Scarcity

Information control

Self-generated persuasion

Commitment

The rationalization trap

Phantom Alternative

An option that looks real, is typically superior to other choices, but is unavailable (Pratkanis & Farquhar, 1992).

The key to selling a flimflam (i.e., the selling of pseudoscience, fringe science, and other questionable claims) is to sell the phantom as real and possible and something that can be obtained with the right belief, effort, and, of course, money, but, in reality, it is a false dream.

The sale of a phantom begins by creating ostensible solutions to satisfy our most basic needs and desires.

As such, phantoms often purport to provide things such as:

Health (quack cures, diets, “healing” rituals, mental health pseudoscience, psychic surgery, faith healing).

Wealth (get-rich-quick schemes, lucky lottery numbers, investment fraud).

Social popularity (weight loss regimes, love potions, dating and romance fraud, becoming an “expert” with “secret” knowledge about UFOs, the Loch Ness Monster, and the moon landing).

Fear of death and the end of our existence (séances, life-after death claims).

Reduction in the anxiety of life’s uncertainties (advice given by horoscopes, astrology, psychic mediums, and other means, phrenology, psychic detectives, conspiracy theories that “make sense” of the world and the desires and feelings of those who spread them).

It is relatively easy to create a phantom since it does not actually need to solve these needs, but just appear to do so.

Compounding the problem, it’s often difficult to spot the real from the fake course of action without the needed knowledge, expertise, and critical thinking skills.

Although a phantom dream is imaginary, its impact on our behavior is quite real.

Story-Telling: The Invented Ruse

To allay our concerns, the seller of flimflam invents a ruse or story to make the fake look real (Bell & Whaley, 1991; Clark & Mitchell, 2019)

A good narrative:

helps to guide our thoughts (e.g., the cure is natural and traditional),

determines the credibility of information (e.g., as a natural cure, this makes sense), and

ultimately directs evaluation and choice (e.g., it works for Native Americans and Quakers, why not me?).

As such, stories cement information in our mind and tend to persist even in the face of strong, discrediting information (Anderson et al., 1980; see Pratkanis (2007) for the use of stories in influence).

Tailored Pitches

Fake healers can use the technique of pre-show to gather needed information.

For example: Before the healing event, attendees can fill out prayer cards with their healing requests and other information.

During the service, the fake healer can call out names and appear, by purported divine intervention, to know the person’s illness and personal life story.

Typically, the fake healer will “cure” shills (plants who fake illnesses) and those with painful health problems for which the pain can be overlooked in the excitement of the moment. The prayer cards (along with Googling and social media) provide the needed information.

Source Credibility and Authority

Two of the most robust research findings in social psychology are as follows: (a) we tend to listen to those who are credible (expert and trustworthy) sources (Hovland et al., 1953); (b) we tend to obey authorities (Milgram, 1974).

The merchant of flimflam leverages these 2 basic human tendencies by creating a persona as a credible authority and then using that persona to hawk a phantom.

Social Consensus and Social Identity

Flimflam merchants will use our social relationships to sell their phantoms by employing the influence tactics of social consensus and social identity.

When we see other people doing something, we are more likely to do the same through the conformity created by social consensus – if everyone is doing it, it must be the right thing to do.

Social consensus engages 2 psychological processes that promote conformity (Deutsch & Gerard, 1955):

information or social proof (“if other people are doing it, it must be correct”; Cialdini, 1984) and

normative influences or social pressure to agree or go along with the group (“I don’t want to be different from the group”; Asch, 1951).

The seller of flimflam will manufacture a false consensus (or take advantage of an apparent one). Quack remedies, astrological readings, unproven Covid treatments, get-rich schemes often feature testimonials of people who speak to the “value” of the product.

Once we become engaged with a flimflam, it can provide us with a desired social identity or a sense of who we are based on our reference group memberships, whether they be real or aspirational (Abrams et al., 1990; Kelley & Volkart, 1952; Tajfel, 1981).

Scarcity

Another social influence tactic to make a flimflam look desirable is to make it look scarce (Cialdini, 1984).

Given that phantoms are generally rare, this is rather easily accomplished.

As an effective social influence tactic, scarcity:

plays on a rule in our head, “if it is rare, it must be valuable”;

creates a sense of urgency and panic that we need to act now and feeling of frustration (reactance) when we do not obtain the phantom; and

inflates our feelings of uniqueness and self-worth when we obtain something that is rare (Pratkanis, 2007).

Information Control: False Accusations, Projection, and Doubt Campaigns

The sellers of flimflam often encounter scientists, journalists, magicians, lawyers, informed citizens, and other “do-gooders and crusaders” who use evidence and reason to point out false claims made in selling the phantom.

If left to stand, these criticisms can cut into sales and deflate the entire scheme. As such, the flimflam merchant needs to control the information environment and can do so using at least 3 techniques:

First, the peddler of a flimflam can falsely accuse the critics. Such attacks can be effective because it can result in a negative impression of the target of attack, undermining their reputation (Wegner et al., 1981). In addition, such allegations set up a chilling, coercive effect as others may become fearful of speaking out.

A second information control tool for the flimflam merchant is a variant of the false accusation known as the projection tactic – accusing others of the misdeed you are doing (Rucker & Pratkanis, 2001). In research, we find that a projection attack: (a) focused attention on the accused and away from the person making the accusation, (b) increased the blame placed on the target of projection, and (c) decreased the culpability of the accuser, making the accuser look good and moral for raising such issues. The effects of projection persisted despite attempts to raise suspicions about the motives of the accuser and providing evidence that the accuser was indeed guilty of the deeds.

A third approach to controlling the information environment is through a doubt campaign (Michaels, 2008; Oreskes & Conway, 2010). The purpose of a doubt campaign is not to convince someone of something (say, the value of the flimflam) but instead to raise doubts and confusion about the facts with the goals of (a) making it difficult to know the truth, (b) creating the impression that there is a controversy (when there is little or none), and (c) forestalling any action until the “controversy” is resolved. The doubt campaign was pioneered in the 1950s and 1960s by tobacco companies seeking to dissuade consumers that their products were harmful, but now is used to create doubt and confusion on such issues as climate change, the efficacy of vaccines such as those preventing childhood illnesses and COVID-19, the value of masks for limiting the spread of COVID-19, and evidence against various conspiracy theories.

Self-Generated Persuasion

One of the most effective means of influence is to have the target generate arguments in support of a position and thereby persuade her- or himself (Boninger et al., 1990; Lewin, 1947).

Self-generated persuasion is effective because in essence it asks the target to think up good reasons for a proposition and to refute any counter argument.

This self-generated message comes from a source that is considered credible, trustworthy, respected, and liked – ourselves.

Commitment

In order to establish continued advocacy and use of a flimflam, the seller needs to secure a commitment, especially a public one, from the target.

With a public commitment, a person is linked to a behavior or course of action – in this case, advocating for and using a flimflam.

Breaking this binding produces a negative tension of not living up to one’s promises and a concern that one will look inconsistent and untrustworthy (e.g., a need to save face). As such, securing a commitment increases the likelihood that the target will comply and perform that behavior (Brockner & Rubin, 1985; Salancik, 1977; Staw, 1976).

Commitments are strongest when the behavior is public/visible, irreversible, and perceived to be freely chosen.

One method for securing a commitment is through the use of the foot-in-the-door tactic (Freedman & Fraser, 1966).

Flimflam is rampant on social media, and we can easily see why.

Social media, with its emphasis on engagement (liking, reposting, posting, commenting, posing, arguing) provides many opportunities to make public, irreversible, and freely chosen commitments (as well as to allow those commitments to be used to create the appearance of social consensus as to the value of the flimflam).

While making a commitment increases compliance, it also results in perhaps the most important ingredient in selling a flimflam: setting a rationalization trap.

The Rationalization Trap

Once a person is sold on a flimflam, and especially when he or she comes to purchase and publically advocate for the phantom option, it changes the way a person processes information.

No longer is the goal “to find things out” but instead to defend and justify the beliefs and actions in what can be called a rationalization trap (Festinger, 1957; Pratkanis & Shadel, 2005; Tavris & Aronson, 2007).

When a person holds 2 discrepant thoughts, what social psychologists call cognitive dissonance, it results in an aversive tension state with painful implications for the self.

In such a state, we are highly motivated to reduce the dissonance.

Of course, one way to reduce the dissonance is to admit a mistake – I was wrong about the cure – and to take responsibility for one’s actions by alerting others and rejecting or, at least scrutinizing more carefully, the source of the disinformation about the quack COVID-19 treatment.

While a mature response and what science requires (Feynman, 1985), it is often difficult to take this route to dissonance reduction, especially when we have made public commitments, self-generated arguments, and linked our social identities to the flimflam, in this case, the quack cure.

Admitting a mistake often is taken to mean – to ourselves and to others – that we are not a good and capable person.

After all, we were unable to see through the deception and then told others to do something that might damage their health.

Unfortunately, an all-too-often course of action is to dig in our heels further and to rationalize and justify our behavior.

Some common ways to do this include:

deny the evidence (“the data showing the ineffectiveness of the cure is made-up”),

take some irrelevant aspect of the disagreeable research and pretend that it is damning (“the study was only done in New York”),

derogate the source (“that’s from the biased media and the doctors’ union”),

derogate others who expose the quackery (“nurses and doctors don’t care about people”),

perform a selective information search (search out and spread any study or claim no matter how unreliable that supports one’s position),

keep repeating discredit research as if it is true, bolster one’s own self and one’s intuition as a way of knowing (“I can see through the media; I did my research unlike those duped by big pharma”),

derogate other forms of knowing, particularly science and reason (“science is a limited way of knowing unlike my intuition”),

use whataboutism (“what about the time Fauci might have said something wrong”),

seek external justification (“a cure that might work is better than having to wear a mask”), and, perhaps worst of all,

self-censorship of putting ourselves in an information bubble where we only hear agreeable information and anything disagreeable is either not heard or ridiculed.

Obviously, a rationalization trap is a very effective means of selling a flimflam.

Once we are in the trap, we will continue to buy the flimflam and advocate for the phantom option in an attempt to justify ourselves in the face of failing evidence.

A key component of being an active truth-finder is to have a plan for evaluating and making decisions about claims.

When we do make a mistake, the honorable thing to do is to admit the error and take responsibility for our actions.

Source ⚜ Reading Scientific Articles ⚜ False Claims ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[tabletopresources]

Image credit "Fishing" By yonaz

So in last night's 3.5 edition D&D game, my players had a chance to do some ice fishing and one player called out for one of my ad hoc mini-games (I do this a lot haha). I wanted something simple, a combo of character skill and some luck, and so in short order ended up with this very quick mini-game you can easily employ.

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Quick Disclaimer: These fishing mini-game mechanics may not be entirely original and could resemble systems from other games I just can't recall. For my part, I'm posting this FOR sharing. Feel free to use, adapt, or modify them in your own games as you see fit. No ownership or exclusivity is claimed over this idea—enjoy and share as you wish!

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Fishing Mini-Game (D&D 3.5 Edition)

Step 1: Build the Fishing Pool

The player rolls a number of d6 equal to their relevant skill modifier (Survival or Profession (Fisher)).

Example: A character with a +10 in Survival rolls 10d6 and sets these dice aside as their "Fishing Pool".

Fishing Pool Example Roll: 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6.

Step 2: Perform the Fishing Check

The player then rolls 5d6 as their "Fishing Check" for one hour of fishing.

Example Roll: 1, 2, 4, 4, 6.

Step 3: Match for Combos

The player now attempts to match the dice results from their Fishing Pool with their Fishing Check results to form combos. The number of dice used in the combo determines the size of the fish:

Small Fish: Match 2 dice from the Fishing Pool with the Fishing Check.

Medium Fish: Match 3 dice from the Fishing Pool with the Fishing Check.

Large Fish: Match 5 dice from the Fishing Pool with the Fishing Check.

Example Combo:

If the player's Fishing Pool has dice showing 1, 2, 4, 4, and 6, they could match all 5 dice with their Fishing Check, catching a Large Fish.

Step 4: Fish Weight and Rations

Once the fish is caught, the total weight of the edible parts of the fish is determined by summing the values of the dice used in the combo.

Example: For a Large Fish (1, 2, 4, 4, 6), the total weight is 1+2+4+4+6 = 17 kg.

To calculate the number of rations provided by the fish:

1 kg = 2,000 calories (or half a ration).

Rations Formula: Divide the total weight of the fish by 2.

Example: 17 kg / 2 = 8.5 kg or 8 rations (we round down).

Step 5: Continue or Stop

After catching a fish, remove the dice used from the Fishing Pool.

If the player still has at least 2 dice left in their Fishing Pool, they can attempt to catch another fish using the same Fishing Check results. Otherwise, they are done for that hour.

That's all that we did and they loved it!

But since then we've considered how future games or others might expand on it with special roll combos, items, locations, setting conditions, Aid Other, etc. So here are some...

Optional Add-Ons and Considerations

Multiple Attempts Per Hour:

If the player rolls exceptionally well on their Fishing Pool, they may be able to attempt fishing multiple times in an hour. To keep this simple, I'd say if they are able to clear the first Pool entirely, they get a brand new roll, a whole new Pool as if starting fishing over, but they keep their previous catches.

Modifiers and Conditions:

You could introduce conditions that affect the Fishing Pool or Fishing Check rolls:

Good Fishing Spot: +1d6 to the Fishing Pool.

Bad Weather/Overfished Area: -1d6 (or more) to the Fishing Pool or disadvantage (see 5e, we use this idea quite a bit even in our 3.5e games) on Fishing Check rolls.

Magic/Luck Items: Grant rerolls or bonus dice to the Fishing Pool or allow rerolls of the Fishing Check.

Special Fish Combos:

Occasionally, you could allow rare or magical fish (or larger species) that provide bonuses or other effects; perhaps these are possible if the combos use specific die results:

Giant Fish: Requires a match of dice with identical values, but double the weight result (ex: a medium fish that used 5,5,5 would be a Giant of its type, and grant 15x2 or 30 kg of edible parts!).

Magical Fish: Grants temporary bonuses, like extra HP or special buffs, when consumed. (ex. A combo of sequential rising values, like 1,2,3,4,5, would grant a Magical Large fish)

Fishing Tools and Bait:

Fishing equipment or bait could modify the rolls:

Better Rods/Lines: Allow rerolls or add extra dice to the Fishing Pool.

Special Bait/Lures: Increases chances of catching better or more fish (ex. set any one die result to 6; or allow player to select the value of any one die, etc.).

Aid Other

Another player can choose to assist Player A if they are proficient in the same associated skill (Survival or Profession (Fisher), etc based on your setting):

Player B (helper) rolls for the associated skill.

If the result of their skill check (rolled like any other skill check) is 10-19, Player A gains 1 extra die in their fishing Pool.

If the result of their skill check is 20 or higher, Player A gains 2 extra dice in their fishing Pool.

Player A can then use these extra dice to help form better combos when matching against their Fishing Check.

Let me know if you use this mini-game in your D&D sessions, or revamp it for the tabletop rpg/edition you play!

I'd love to hear your stories of the biggest catch, or lamenting that one LEGENDARY CATCH that got away!

And check out Tabletop Gaming Resources for more art, tips, and tools for your game!

[tarotofhope]

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Note: These are just my random personal observations, I hope you guys resonate with this. You can apply this to both western or vedic placements. There are some triggers/negative traits as well in some points, but please don't take any offense. I'll be writing mostly about Sun placements mainly because we don't get to know about people's other placements easily.

☾✴ Taurus moons or ascendants especially the ones with Rohini Nakshatra look gorgeous, soft, sensual and sexy. They have these beautiful big round eyes, button noses and full prominent lips. They have great sex appeal.

☾✴ I've noticed that people who have Libra placements in the big 3 have pale or lighter skin color than other people, no matter what ethnicity, culture, religion you belong to, I mean to say that, whether you're brown, black or white, If you have this placement, you will have either a fairer, more lighter shade or paler skin than other people. These guys rarely have skin problems because their skin is very healthy, clean, free of acne, almost like baby skin.

☾✴ Gemini Sun women mostly have curly or very wavy hair. They like to have shorter hair length and love to change their hairstyles often. Gemini Sun men are also very conscious about their hair, they also love to fashion their hair in different styles.

☾✴ Aries Sun men and women are very emotional from the inside, they would punch you in the face if you get them angry but then they'd also feel very bad about it later. They would cry for their loved ones very easily but people are always fooled by their rough and tough exterior.

☾✴ Cancer Sun women know very well how to hide behind their emotional veil even when they're at fault. Playing victim, they'd attack from behind that veil, making the other person look faulty. They're very uncomfortable around other strong and confident women, so they use their only weapon(emotions) to bring them down. They mostly see straightforward behaviour and confidence as a bad attribute or a threat.

☾✴ Virgo Sun women assume the weirdest of sh*t about other people's personal stuff, especially the things they're not aware about. I can give you n number of examples for this because I kid you not, I've mostly met Virgos all my life uptil now, all genders, all ages. They are good at rational analysis but this habit comes off as different to me from their otherwise popular traits. I've noticed this mostly in women, like many years ago, I had a bad cough and cold for a few days(not during Covid), I took a day off, went to the doctor, took my meds but had to go to office next day, so while in office, this one colleague who was a Virgo sat in the next cubicle besides me, so I was coughing most of the time, she looked at me and asked, "Are you suffering from TB? Haven't you seen a doctor? See, I'm telling you, it might be TB, you must go check." I was like wtf..!! I said, "No! It's not TB and I did go to the doctor. It's just common cough and cold, don't assume just anything." More than looking worried, she talked in a tone like I was dumb and stupid. My mom(a Virgo Sun), makes similar kind of weird assumptions, almost everyday.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

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