#The real deal is between Eros and psyche | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaoticneutralwriter · 3 years

Text

The Calm

And it’s this quiet moment that you cherish the most.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, romance, angst, slow-burn, comedy, fluff

word count: 7.5k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of: First Bite and A Small Death (M)

Warning: pillow talk so some suggestive content, but other wise fluffy and domestic af

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAPPY HOLIDAYS!🎄🎁☃️ AM I TOO LATE FOR AN UPDATE?? LOLL It’s not necessarily Christmas themed but I had anticipated I could get this done at least by then to post so...does this count as a present? dkshg I’m so sorry it took so long 😩 the last few weeks got me feeling in some type of funk where sometimes i wanna do something and other times it’s just ‘i know i gotta do this thing but...i don’t wanna’ so please excuse if there’s any typos i might’ve not caught and if the chapter seems very stop and go sdfkjshg Once again, thank you guys so so SO much for your endless love and support for this fic and for your endless patience! Stay safe, take care and have a restful week!

Tag list: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway @indiesy @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi

You feel yourself stirring back into consciousness, becoming more aware of the soft duvet covers that cocoon you. On an inhale, you pick up the smell of fresh linen with an undertone of warm peppermint and cedar. It's nice, soothing and you bury your nose further in it. But it's definitely not what your bed sheets smell like.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, vision blurred from the deep slumber you were in and the dimness of the room until you blink to adjust yourself. Through the sliver of thin curtains, you see the still darkened night sky – an endless sea of midnight blue with only the faint golden glow of the city building lights dotting along its surface like makeshift stars. The moon is full tonight, shining brightly and casting its pale rays onto the floor and walls though occasionally, it shies away behind wispy clouds that drift by.

Growing more awake, you begin to notice other things besides the time of day, like how these microfibre sheets were especially soft against your body, caressing your skin as if you're wearing nothing at all.

....Oh, you really were wearing nothing at all.

You pause to think, trying to get the gears working in your head before the memories start to jog again.

You remember meeting Jungkook at that fancy lounge, he had given you the address to where your guardian demon was staying (more like hiding). You had marched up, banging on his door and demanding him to explain why the fuck he would hide something as important as attempting to transition to a guardian angel –

Your eyes widen, a sick surge of panic rushing from your gut and you might've given yourself whiplash in your haste to see the other side of the bed, only to sigh out quietly, your palpitating heart settling back to a calm, steady beat. Carefully, you roll yourself over, shuffling closer and finally letting yourself take him in, like Psyche laying eyes on Eros for the first time.

He sleeps so soundly, almost angelically and you resist the urge to snort at the irony of that thought, but with the way his dark raven locks are tousled, strands falling over his forehead, delicate lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks and his full pink lips that are parted slightly as the moonlight kisses every inch of smooth skin the sheets aren't covering, you swear he could fool anyone into believing it, even heaven themselves.

You can't help but to bring a hand up to sweep away the stray hairs, allowing you a better glimpse of him. It's the first time you've seen him this relaxed, any sort of tension no longer marring his elegant face, like for once he doesn't have to put on a strong front and the sight has you bewitched, wanting to take in as much as you can. When your fingers gently glide down his profile, you're surprised they come away a little warmer. In fact, the more you look, you think his complexion has improved, a healthier glow compared to when you first saw him. Is it your imagination? Or the trick of the light? You lift your head to try and get a better look.

You feel him stir before you can be sure of it and you're met with obsidian irises that seem to bore into your soul. There's a slightly dazed look in his eyes that has a fond smile tug at the corner of your lips as you settle back down again.

“Hi.” You whisper, as if afraid you'll break the peace of the night.

Recognition flits through his gaze at the sound of your voice and he mirrors your smile, breathing a soft sigh. He lifts the hand that was resting on his stomach to take hold of yours resting on his cheek.

“Hey.” It comes out deep and husky; still heavily laden with sleep and raspy from disuse. He turns so that he's facing you properly, thumb stroking the back of your hand before he places a kiss on your inner wrist. “Thought I was dreaming for a second...”

You let out what can only be described as a mix between a throaty laugh and a garble, a rather unattractive noise that has you pulling your hand back to cover your face in embarrassment, cheeks heating up further when your muffled voice comes out extremely hoarse and cracks if you so much as raise it.

“You can't say that when you were literally sleeping like a French girl waiting to be painted.”

He chuckles, not hesitating to pull you into his chest and sneaking another kiss to your forehead. You snuggle against him happily, throwing your arm across his stomach and pressing your own lips to his collarbone in return as he slips an arm under your head to use as a pillow.

“You're one to talk.” You hear him say above you before adding teasingly, “When you're not stealing all the blanket.”

You lightly push your knuckles at his jaw but there was no real force or seriousness behind the reprimand; just a case of your usual banters acting up. He retaliates by playfully snapping his teeth at your hand, as if to bite the fingers and you pull back, squealing and giggling.

“No biting!”

“So no biting I see...Duly noted then.”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized as your gaze whips up, only to find him barely containing a suggestive smirk at you.

“...I don't like what you're implying...” You say, eyes narrowing even though you find yourself subtly sinking lower in an attempt to hide the blush you feel rushing up your neck. He catches you all the same, tilting his head as the lazy smirk grows.

“Oh darling I only say to better please you. Although,” He pauses, slowly, purposefully leaning down closer to you, a gleam in his eyes that you swear made his dark eyes deepen into a devilish crimson for a split second.

“We'll probably have to work on that stamina – can't have you tapping out just after three orgasms.”

You choke, completely flustered at such brazen and lascivious words that sound far too honeyed than they should be, making the memories seem all the more vivid in your mind. Your entire body feels incredibly hot suddenly and not knowing what to do, you whine helplessly and attempt to roll away from him but he holds onto you, the sounds of his laughter tinkling in your ears.

“You're not getting any of this blanket for that now.” You pout, bunching and tugging the sheets to your chest more.

“I'm just teasing love, I couldn't help myself!” He giggles, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Forgive me?”

You let the silence drag out for a few seconds longer before you sneak a peek over, letting out a snort when you see him blinking big puppy dog eyes at you. You're biting back a smile as you turn to face him again.

“You're lucky you're cute.”

His eyes crease up as he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, stroking the soft skin. You lean into his touch, watching him affectionately until you see his expression dim to something more sombre.

“I really am sorry Y/N.” He confesses quietly, voice tinged with a heavy guilt as his fingers move to play distractedly with your hair, gently tucking the loose strands behind your ear or brushing them off your shoulder. “I'm sorry I kept this from you for as long as I did....”

You open your mouth to speak, but stop midway. You'd be lying if you said that you're not completely over being mad at him for what he did, however, the initial anger had more or less simmered to a heartache you can't quite shake. You feel him beginning to withdraw his touch, perhaps misreading your silence as reopening a tender wound but you bring a hand up to entangle your fingers with his, keeping them in place.

“I know you said you did it to protect me but,” The sigh you let out holds a lingering sadness, “I still wished you had told me...” You chastised, stern yet gentle as you lock a steady gaze on him. “You really had me worried and scared. I thought something happened to you...like...” You swallow and he squeezes your hand lightly in comfort. “Like the night I found you...in my room.”

He nods, solemnly conceding and his eyes drift away, reflecting in his thoughts.

“I'm sure you figured by now; that night was when I had came back from starting the transitioning process.” He rolls until he's lying on his back, staring aimlessly at the ceiling and you shuffle closer in his loosened hold, not wanting to be apart from his warmth, listening. “Usually not a big deal....but for a demon, it was dangerous.” A rueful chuckle. “To be honest, I still don't know how I even survived...”

Your heart clenches at the thought and you bite your lip, pushing down the lump that's growing.

“But ever since then, my body's been...off, and it only grew worse each day – to the point where using my powers for even the simplest things put a huge strain on me.” He inhales deeply, as if he's trying to breathe past the weight that's been sitting on his chest. “I felt so exhausted all the time; I thought at this rate, I wouldn't be able to do anything. I wouldn't be able to protect you from the misfortunes that follow me and if I couldn't do that much, it would be better for me to stay away, keep you from the dangers and...” You see his jaw stiffen before he directs his gaze to the side, face turned away from you. “Keep you from seeing me this way; helpless, weak.”

The last few words come out as if he loathes to admit them aloud, voice tight. You hear how frustrated he is with himself and you're quick to assuage those tumultuous thoughts, rising so that you hover above his form to cup his face in your hands until your eyes meet, pulling him from the abyss.

“I would rather be in danger than have you risk your life.” You say, softening when you continue, “I don't want to lose you....You mean so much to me. Please don't ever forget that.”

Dark eyes, much like the starless night sky outside the window, widen fractionally. You fight the blush threatening to bloom across your cheeks, realizing how ardent you might've sound but you speak honestly, even if your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your ribcage at any moment. You think it speeds up when you see his mouth tug into a small smile and he leans up to brush his nose against yours tenderly, winding one arm around your waist to press you even closer to his body, half lying on top of him.

“I never would've thought in my lifetime I would find someone like you cherub.” He says in disbelief, free hand coming up to bury into the locks of your hair, palm resting on the back of your neck. “I've done nothing to deserve you.”

“Well, you're just gonna have to accept it.” You answer, planting a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “Because I'm not going anywhere.” You punctuate each word with a kiss to the apple's of his cheeks, forehead, over the lids of his eyes, and finally on pillowy soft lips. You can't help but linger there a little longer. When you pull away, it's to take in his visage, eyes travelling over his form before something catches your attention.

At first, you didn't recognize it; the blemish appearing more or less like a birthmark, however, you see the size it takes up on the left side of his chest and it's then you realize that it was the tattoo you had seen, only this time it appeared to be so much more faded, and in some places, the inky lines have disappeared altogether. You frown, troubled at having not noticed until now...or perhaps from the fact that you had entirely missed it because it was barely there anymore, you're not sure.

“I'm guessing this is because of the process too?” You ask, thoughtlessly tracing the pads of your fingers over what's left of the mark. He hums, the sound rumbling beneath your palm as his larger hand encompasses yours, holding it in place and you feel the steady beating of his heart.

“I'm not surprised, it's the mark of a demon after all.” He explains, none too bothered and lightly shrugging at that. When the hard line of your lips doesn't let up, he chuckles, reaching up to poke your cheek. “It's just a mark cherub, nothing serious. It's meant to distinguish our kind because of our ability to take on any human appearances.”

Still, you don't like how it's another glaringly obvious sign that your guardian demon's health is deteriorating, an unwanted byproduct to add to the pile that does nothing but taunt you. It has your thoughts straying back to the idea that you had your mind set on. You're very tempted to bring it up; wanting to desperately tell him that you might've found another way, that he doesn't need to endure any more pain or sacrifices for your sake, that for once, maybe you can do something for him after all he's done for you.

“Cherub?”

The soft call brings you back, eyes refocusing on the demon who blinks up at you curiously with the faintest hints of concern etched across his deceivingly delicate features. At the sight, you feel yourself melting, endeared and suddenly you can't bear to ruin this sweet moment with another heavy topic – you both had just came to terms and settled the whole guardian angel thing after all.

You'll tell him later, right now you'd rather be making up the lost time you could've had kissing and snuggling him.

So in the end, it gets pushed to the very back of your mind and you redirect to something else, “Sorry, I was just thinking about what you said; how demons can take on any human appearances. I'll admit, your Jimin look is impressive.”

You see him take pause, no doubt trying to process the flitting thought that has just passed before ultimately, he chooses to let it slide and allows you to pull him into your playful antics. The smug smirk that makes its way onto his lips has a coquettish one sneaking onto your own. “But,” you almost laugh at how fast he falters at the single word and your smile grows more and more teasing. “I'm afraid you got sloppy, with or without your mark I could easily tell you weren't actually Jimin.”

He scoffs, looking thoroughly affronted by your claims. “How? I think my look is pretty spot on.”

You hum, propping up a little more so that you can brush the dark strands of hair on his forehead with the tips of your finger. “True....But you could say almost too perfect. See, Jimin has a beauty mark here.” You gently tap on a spot just above his left brow and you giggle when the skin wrinkles up in his effort to follow your movement attentively. “And here...” Your finger lowers to the edge of his collarbone. “And one on the back of his neck. You only managed to get the one on his cheek right.”

The indignant grunt he makes lets you know he's pouting without you even having to look.

“His teeth aren't perfectly straight like yours either – one of his front tooth is slightly crooked.”

“...I do hope your interest in teeth won't go beyond that...”

You smack his chest lightly, kissing your teeth but otherwise make no further comment. “I think the last thing that gave you away is your choice in piercings...” You point out, brushing your thumb against the sensitive shell of his ear where the helix stud sits. “Jimin doesn't have this one anymore.”

“A shame really...” You hear the demon murmur and your eyebrows quirk, barely catching the way he swallows thickly, eyes darting off to the side.

You blink, wondering if you've made him self-conscious or uncomfortable in any way but little do you know, the demon is only relieved you hadn't noticed the goosebumps that have erupted over his arm at your innocent touch.

“You're right, and that's why I like it – the helix piercing.” You continue, smiling gently. “And everything else you missed. It's like your own kind of imperfections and preferences...it just proves that you're you, and not Jimin.”

You can't help letting your voice tether off into something much softer for the quiet confession hidden in those last few words.

You're the one I love.

Your stomach flutters with butterflies at the foreign feeling, shrinking in on yourself out of shyness and you know you really shouldn't be, but you're also nervous; for what you're not even entirely sure. Mentally, you scold yourself – you must seem like such a weird, emotional mess of a human being to him.

The rumbling vibrations of his chuckle catches your attention, as does the palm of his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“Well, I'm glad that you're the one to differentiate the two of us.”

He doesn't need to say anything else because from the fond look in his eyes and the tender dulcet tone of his voice, you see and hear his unspoken response, how much it means to him.

Thank you for loving me, for me.

Your heart swells unbelievably in size that you're actually left a little breathless. The butterflies are going crazy now and so overwhelmed by your emotions but not knowing how to express them adequately, you bury your face into his neck and squeeze a tight hug into him. You get a breathy laugh in response and feel his strong arms squeezing you right back, his mouth pressing into the crown of your head. You stay like that for a while, simply taking in the scent that is so uniquely his. It never fails to relax every nerve in your body, and coupled with the rhythmic stroking of his hand through your hair, you find yourself struggling to blink away the heaviness that's starting to fall over your lids.

Your lips move in a drowsy mumble, sluggishly forming the beginnings of his name but then stopping abruptly. Lifting your head so that you can look at him, you're suddenly wide eyed with the realization.

“I should probably stop calling you 'Jimin' then huh?”

Obsidian eyes blink down at you, amusement shining in their depths for the way you seem so pressed about the issue, like you had offended him to the highest degree. Your chest moves in sync with the deep inhale he takes, watching as he languidly lifts his arm to tuck it behind his head, his expression shifting to something a little more pensive before he seems to reach a conclusion.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment cherub, I think it's safer if you still continue to. When I said there is power to a name, I didn't mean so lightly. A demon can be overpowered or even banished should their true name be known; be it by a medium, an exorcist or –“

“An angel.”

The words slips out unconsciously in a small whisper, like you're afraid to speak it into existence.

“...Yes, especially angels.” He answers you like he was the bearer of bad news, only you knew that much already. You might not be an expert, but you think it's pretty basic knowledge that demons (and by proxy, other kinds of dark entities) can be expelled in some form or another – your past jokes and gibes at your own guardian demon were proof of that matter alone.

However, now you've been hit in the face with just how volatile that reality is; and all it would take is uttering his name to the wrong person.

“I won't let that happen.”

It's a promise, a vow; one you'll be damned if you broke. He smiles, endeared at your unwavering display of determination.

“I know you won't love, but regardless, if you ever find yourself in danger don't hesitate to call my name.”

Your brows furrow in protest. “But that's too –”

“No buts Y/N.” He gently reprimands you, curling a finger under your chin so that your eyes lock onto the firm gaze he fixes you with. “As your guardian; your safety is still and will always remain my priority.”

There's a finality with the statement that lets you know that no amount of arguing will change his mind on that and your mouth reluctantly falls shut. At your conflicted and crestfallen look, he softens.

“Hey.”

You perk up slightly and feel the featherlight brushes of his finger against the roundness of your cheek, a small placating gesture.

“Don't worry too much on it cherub, just something I want you to keep in mind yeah?”

You want to weakly retort that it's too late for that, mind already running amok with worse case scenarios. You don't get too far into it however, as fatigue rolls over you like a powerful wave, overtaking you in the form of a giant yawn that you struggle to stifle; the force of it has your whole body shuddering.

“We should really stop meeting like this, I'm afraid it's finally taking a toll on you.”

The disgruntled noise you let out gets muffled in with the last remnants of the tired exhale. You don't truly understand what he means until you blink away the tears, catching sight of a sleek digital clock sitting on the night stand, and squinting, you see the numbers illuminating in green reads 4:45AM.

You groan and feel as if whatever remaining energy you had is drained after knowing the time. Shutting your eyes, your body sags completely, half-draped unceremoniously over the firm body of your demon.

“Now, now princess, you'll regret falling asleep like this when you wake up.” You hear him tut before you feel yourself be moved, rolled to your side so that you lie properly on the mattress. You whine, was perfectly contented where you were but settle once you feel arms wrap itself around your waist, pulling you close and your face is once again buried perfectly into the crook of his neck, head resting on the pillow.

The calming scent of him along with his warmth and the plush covers cocooning you easily allows for sleep to pull at your lids once more, your own arms instinctively curling around him.

“Good?”

You hum, sighing out as your worries slowly muddle together into nothing more than a heavy fog and when he starts to run his fingers through your hair again, you're practically mush.

“...You never answered my question...” You murmur thoughtlessly, like a subconscious, knee jerk reaction born from a last minute need for some peace of mind before you finally succumb to the rapidly growing fatigue. His hand stills momentarily, and you're not sure if it's because he had barely made out your slurred words or if it's to recall the memory. There's a lapse in silence, how long you're not even sure at this point as you feel yourself drifting in and out of being awake, but then you hear it – sweet and wistful.

“...For as long as I'm yours, I'll stay.”

The next time you wake, it is to a warmth that you quickly find wasn't the kind you expected nor want. The soft rays of the sun easily pierces through the chiffon curtains that drape over the floor to ceiling windows in the bedroom, bathing the space in a golden haze and while often times, it leaves for an impressive view of the vast cityscape below, you're not entirely appreciative of the exposure it gives you now. Not only did it disrupt you from your peaceful slumber, it does little to hide the coolness you feel from the empty space beside you.

You sit up with a start, still dazed and stay there for a good minute, squinting through the light that's way too bright the same time trying to kickstart your mind into gear – you never were the best person to wake up, it took you forever to get yourself together. Eventually, your eyes begin to take in what's around you, the dark grey sheets that pool around your waist and finally getting a good look at the interior of the room.

It's ridiculously spacious, as is the bed you're sitting in, even from what little you had seen initially amidst the dim lighting along with the flurry of heightened emotions and passion. In fact, it looks a lot like a snapshot right out of a luxury home interior decorating magazine if you're going to be honest.

Off the bat, you can tell the colour scheme was mainly dark greys, creams, and blacks, accented by the same deep mahogany wood of the front door. It was also decorated simply with minimalistic styled furnishing. Aside from the low laying king sized bed, with its taupe coloured upholstered frame, a dresser sits across from you and in the far corner facing the large windows was a singular lounge chair with a small coffee table situated in front.

Turning your head, you see matching night tables, both with identical geometric lamps but one had the clock you spotted earlier, the time now reading 2:16PM. To your left, you notice a doorway situated perpendicular to the large windows in one corner of the room while to the right of you, there was another door and just ahead to the right was another. Immediately, you guess that these lead off to one of three places; a bathroom, a closet or the main hall leading out to the rest of the penthouse.

A shiver passes through you, causing you to momentarily shrink in on yourself and reminding you that you're still very much nude. Self-consciously, you tug the blankets around you back up once more, wearing it as a makeshift cape as you continue to glance around the room, now with more awake eyes. It's then that you finally notice your neatly folded clothes laying on the black cushioned bench at the end of the bed, and sitting just beside that pile was a plain black robe and towels. The rush of air through your nose barely concealed the quiet giggle seeping through – so sweet of him.

You should probably shower, you think. Though surprisingly, you don't feel as grimy as you would have thought but still, it'd be refreshing. You lean over until your hand reaches the robe, already loving the extremely plush softness you feel under your fingertips. It feels even better once you shrug it on, securing the sash around your waist and you honestly think you can fall right back asleep in it. A tempting idea, but you have more pressing matters. Niggling at the back of your mind, a part of you wanted to find your guardian demon first, to check up on him in the same manner he'd so carefully demonstrated upon your waking and confirm your comfort wasn't at the expense of his health. Plus – and even as you admit this, your heart traitorously flutters – you miss him.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed until you're able to swing your legs over, letting the soles of your feet touch the cream carpeting before you haul yourself up. You sharply inhale, halting in your steps at the popping of joints and a dull ache, the latter catching you off guard (and causing a mad rush of heat to your face) that you had to take a moment before tentatively continuing to the door farthest from you.

Just as your hand brushes the handle, your hair falls over your face and without thinking, you sweep it away but the motion makes you pause abruptly. Slowly, your mind jogs back up to speed, your fingers combing through the messy locks in an attempt to smooth it out and suddenly you need a mirror. Actually, never mind a mirror, you probably should at least brush your teeth before heading out so recklessly!

Shamefaced, you change course, heading straight to the door you guessed was the en suite bathroom. The moment you opened the door, you're immediately taken aback. Much like the bedroom, the bathroom was quite big and so cleanly decorated with wide windows that take up one wall, offering whoever that was soaking in the Jacuzzi bathtub the same expansive view as the bedroom. Aside from the tub, there was also a glass shower stall big enough to fit at least four people at once despite having a bench inside, the stone marble matching in colour with the twin sink counter and cool grey tiles.

It takes you a moment to compose yourself again from being awestruck with the excessive bathroom and after much careful rifling in the medicine cabinet, you find a spare toothbrush and a travel sized toothpaste pack.

Teeth brushed and a little bit more refreshed from a splash of water to your face, you finally poke your head out of the door your had initially set your sights on. You find your previous suspicions correct as laid out before you was a hallway, the walls a warm cream beige colour that matched the carpet that continued outside the bedroom and any doors were of the same mahogany wood. It wasn't fairly long as you see just not far ahead, the carpeting stops at a threshold of sorts and leads off to another open space with dark granite flooring. Immediately, you're drawn out without hesitation because from the small glimpse alone, your eyes were already bugging out of your head.

So by the time you actually reached the end, you swear your jaw just about dropped off its hinges. The space you stumbled into was a living room, the size alone you think equalled to your kitchen, living room and bedroom, with its high ceilings, so tall that there's room to hang an equally large linear chandelier without appearing claustrophobic (in fact, the lighting fixture itself looked as if it could pass off as an expensive art installation) and if you had thought the view in the bedroom was extreme, you've been proven sorely wrong.

One side of the room is entirely made up of floor to ceiling windows, making the view even more vast with nothing obstructing it that if you had peered over, you would believed you were simply floating on a cloud in the sky, truly suspended in mid-air. Mounted on the wall adjacent to the panel of large glass was a sleek, electric fireplace, the flames dancing over small, white pebbled stones rather than wood and at the centre were long velvet couches surrounding a simple wood coffee table, all encircled by a lush white fur rug.

What's more, the other thing that had caught your attention was the set of floating stairs that lead up to another level of the penthouse – leading to what you're not sure. With your eyes so busily roaming about the entire area, you had failed to notice the person you've initially set out to look for until the very last moment, finally spotting his figure ahead in the kitchen situated under the large landing of the stairs. His back was turned towards you so all you saw was his tousled raven locks, the faint twinkling of his silver chained earrings and a loose fitting white tunic. Automatically, you smile, your heart easing and suddenly the splendour of this luxurious penthouse means nothing to you.

Despite your approach being fairly quiet, you knew it was no match for the heightened senses of a demon and without surprise, you see him turn his head slightly to acknowledge your presence just as you reach the island counter separating you from him.

“Slept well cherub?” He asks with a charming quirk of his lips.

You seat yourself on the breakfast stool, propping your arm on top of the marble counter top and hum, pretending to think.

“For Egyptian cotton, it wasn't too bad I guess.”

You get a chuckle from him before he turns his attention back to what's in front of him, and it's then that you smell the cooking of eggs and bacon. Instantly, your stomach gurgles, demanding to be fed and your cheeks colour at the loud sound it made. There's no way the demon in front of you could've missed it, even if he didn't have supernatural hearing. So as if prompted, he lifted the sizzling pan and dispensed its contents onto a pristine white plate sitting beside the stove, just as the toaster pinged.

You watch him take the single slice between his fingers before he faces you once more, presenting you a plate of creamy scrambled eggs, strips of crispy bacon and perfectly golden toast on the side.

“Sorry if it's a little lacking. I've found that throughout the years, I don't have a good grasp of flavours humans enjoy.” He apologizes. “Eggs and bacon are the few dishes you can't really go wrong with.”

You suppress the snort, accepting the plate gratefully nonetheless and not minding his forewarning – it made sense after all so you assured, “Hey, at least it looks edible and cooked well; already better than my own scrambled eggs and bacon.”

The smile he gives you makes his eyes crease into crescent moons, his cheeks rounding with a glimmer of mirth that makes him appear very boyish. He hands you a silver fork pulled from one of the drawers.

“Very sweet of you cherub.”

Your eyes squint and your cheeks puff up from the force of the exaggerated, syrupy sweet smile you give him, wiggling in your seat like a cheeky five year old as you lift your hand to take the utensil. You miss the crooked stretch of his lips so before you could close around the fork, he pulls it out of reach and lightly bonks the back of your hand with it. The shock of the metal hitting your knuckle jolts you and your eyes snap open in an instant, mouth open.

“Jimin!” You say, aghast but the sound is more or less void of any real offence as you act out cradling your 'injured' hand.

All he does is bark a single laugh and gesture to the fork for you to take again. “Eat up, food's getting cold.”

Not like you needed to be told twice, if not by Jimin then the sounds of your growling stomach. You gratefully begin to chew on the eggs and bacon (albeit they were on the bland side, but food is food and you ate happily). Meanwhile, Jimin busies himself making a cup of tea for you after he had asked your preferences and as he does, you both chatted, mainly about this apartment you didn't know he had.

“I rarely have any use for these places because I never really stay for long.” Jimin explains casually, sliding you a steaming mug as you finish your last bit of toast. “I use them if I have time or if I just want some place quiet to relax and not be disturbed.”

“Then what's the point of having a place so big?” You ask, exchanging your empty plate for the mug, wrapping it up in your hands to warm your palms.

He props up an elbow, leaning on the counter with a cheek resting in one palm and shrugs. “I can't deny I like nice things but in the end, it doesn't have any real value to me.” Here, a sly smile makes his way onto those pillowy soft lips. “You can have it if you want.”

The sentence nearly makes you spit out the tea you had so meticulously been blowing on and you cough, stammering, “I-It's fine! Don't joke like that!”

“I wasn't joking, I was being serious.”

The way Jimin said it was so matter of fact that you could only blink in disbelief. After much floundering, you clear your throat, bringing up the mug closer to your face in hopes of shielding the heat that's spreading over your cheeks. “Still, there's no need. I can't possibly take your house.”

The demon in front of you puffs a chortle, still looking as carefree on the matter as ever, “If you ever change your mind, let me know.”

You grunt bemusedly, mumbling about how you wouldn't even know what to do with a place so big, before taking a slow sip of your tea, humming lightly at the warming feeling and the pleasant taste. Jimin watches you quietly, a content smile on his face. You try to seem unbothered but evidently, the effects of your newly blossomed relationship with him has yet to calm down and so, your heart fluttered in your chest incessantly the moment you locked gazes with those irises, dark as night that seem to only shine on you.

Suddenly, you find yourself in a paradox – while you feel like you're struggling to maintain eye contact with Jimin, no matter how much your eyes flit and wander aimlessly, in the end you're drawn back to him anyways. Rather shameless you think, but confidently, you could at least say that you can't be blamed.

You're not sure if it's the sun's rays, so freely beaming into the room from those large windows, or it's just Jimin, but he seems to emit an unexplained ethereal glow. Gone was the ashen paleness that had made his skin appear almost translucent, his complexion radiates a warm honeyed suppleness that you've missed seeing on him because with it, he looked so much livelier.

Wait.

Now that nothing is hindering your sights, you see clearly that any ailments on his features have been significantly reduced. The purplish dark circles that had clung under his eyes are gone, his cheeks don't seem to be so sunken in and even his raven black hair, tousled effortlessly, had a wonderful sheen as it fell in thick waves over his forehead.

It's with without a doubt, this Jimin in front of you right now really was indeed healthier.

Unconsciously you find your hand reaching out to his face as if wanting to confirm physically that this was no illusion or dream, making Jimin blink in surprise before he gently catches your hand mid-way.

“Something wrong cherub?”

“It's just,” You start, fingers automatically clasping in his hold and you absentmindedly think how soft and warm his hands were. “How are you feeling?”

The sudden question must've caught Jimin a little off guard so after a second of serious considerations, he replies, “I feel...pretty good?”

“You look pretty good too.” The words slip right out before you realized it but once you do, you pull your hand back hastily, flustered as you rambled. “Not that you don't always look good! Because you do! Because you know, you're a demon, master of disguises and all that, and you've even got on arguably one of the best looking faces on the planet so what I meant was you don't look like a ghost that's been dead for centuries anymore instead of a demon like you're supposed to be!”

Jimin, of course, didn't really bother to hide the toothy grin that's forming yet very graciously still moved the subject along in fear that you would pass out. “You do have a point – as you've seen and have been told, the effects of the transition were obvious on me. But,” He lifts up a hand to eye level, spreading his fingers and flipping it this way and that. “I...really do feel fine. Much better than I have for days.” The last admittance has his shapely brows furrowing, as if he couldn't believe it himself once he's said it aloud.

“Is there any sort of explanation for this?” You ask.

Then, after some pondering, he slowly let his hand fall to his side and hummed, “There are...a few number of possibilities I can think of. The most likely one is that unconsciously, I might've taken some energy from you.”

“Taken from me? When did – oh...” It clicked just as the sentence was coming out and instantly your face flushes, eyes wide. Jimin's brow rose, his lips twitching imperceptibly at the corner and you rush, clearing your throat to cover up. “I thought that was like....a specific ability you needed to have, unless you mean to tell me you're an incubus...”

Jimin snorts, bringing a fist up to cover his mouth before he said, “No cherub, I'm not. All demons possess this ability to a certain degree but most usually lean towards certain affinities. Unless you're specifically an incubus, there are other way demons can gain sustenance or a source for their power other than taking energy directly from humans.”

At such news, your own brows raise in curiousity and you can't help but to ask. “Then what do you usually use?”

“Oh the usual; fear, invoking murderous intent, enticing those into depravity.” Jimin lightly lists off, as if he's talking about hobbies he likes to do on a lazy Sunday.

“Hah....” You shouldn't be so surprised. “Well, either way, as long as you're feeling better.”

Jimin hums noncommittally, distractedly reaching out to tuck a strand of fallen hair behind your ear and though his face is mostly impassive, you get the feeling that he was still deeply mulling over this. But the pensive look soon disappears, his eyes going slightly hooded as something else had caught his attention, his focus going to a place on your neck. You felt the hand brushing your hair come to a slow too and shivered when the pads lightly graze the skin there, trailing a path downwards before stopping.

“What a mess I've made.” The low rumbling murmur has your breath involuntarily hitching and your chin automatically tilts down to see what he was referring to. With his prodding, the collar of your robe had been pushed open to reveal the purplish colouring that mottled the surface of the skin along your collarbone and already without needing to see the full extent of the bruising, you know your neck is covered with them.

It was honestly something you hadn't thought about until it's been pointed out so the moment actually caught you off guard and in your stupor, you can only half coherently say, “Not like it hurts or anything...”

When his fingers draw the robe back a little further to get a clearer look, he unwittingly stumbles into another rather troubling thing.

“You're not dressed.”

“...Well, I was gonna shower....” You mumble, letting your eyes drift off from embarrassment. You hear Jimin breathe out a snicker.

“Dirty girl.”

You narrow your gaze back at him, pouting your lips. “Why don't you show me how to work your fancy expensive shower then.”

He laughs. “It's just a bunch of knobs cherub, how hard can it be?”

“Do you even shower?” You ask back accusingly, hands coming up to rest on your hips.

At that, he cocks his head, stepping back with arms crossed and almost haughtily, “I do, in fact, I already did shower this morning. I'm a little offended you would accuse me of having poor hygiene.”

You copy his pose and sniff, “Sure could've fooled me.”

It's obvious what a lie that was because out of the two of you, anyone could tell with one glance which one is likely to smell more like vanilla and peaches (not you), but you can't help making it a habit to poke the tiger when it's asleep.

Sure enough, Jimin's mouth drops open, looking at you incredulously and an actual hint of mild offence. Then he puffs out a scoff, lips quirking up at the corner and suddenly you don't like that glint in his eyes. In a frighteningly calm manner, Jimin lowers his arms and then smiled serenely, only it came off more creepy than reassuring.

“Y/N ~ ....” He singsongs and as if the impending danger has heightened your senses, you see him subtly shift his weight and it's all you need to whip around and take off running, squealing as you go. Probably not the greatest idea since how the hell do you expect to outrun a demon but when you heard the sounds of his jovial laughing right behind you, you think at least some good came out of it.

189 notes · View notes

alatismeni-theitsa · 3 years

Text

anti LO anon opinions

(1) Whats up with LO giving some characters random american names? In few fastpass episodes was characters that have bame anna, larry and derek and in previous episodes there was characters with american names. Isnt that supposed to be greek mythological beings that should have greek names?

(2) Maybe it’s my aroace ass but why do I have a feeling the relationship of HxP in LO goes too fast? I feel uncomfortable seeing them so close because nothing really has happened to bind them that much so early.

(3) I’m going to rant for a second here. I think the Kronos plot in LO is interesting but at the same time it’s also just so? Random? Like isn’t this supposed to be about Hades and Persephone? It have been over 150 episodes and they’ve only just now decided to do any basic romantic interactions, but there’s so many side plots that it just makes them seem so out of place?

It’s not great editing to jump from cutesy shipper moments to suddenly a new war is starting in the span of a few panels. The tonal shifts have to be built up, maybe split over a few episodes, but LO doesn’t put in the effort. It wants the stakes and writing of a deep epic but doesn’t put in the work to do so, so it ends up looking like shallow cliffhanger writing than actually planned.

Like you still have to deal with her murdering people (even if it was an accident), you now have to deal with Leto apparently being the real evil mastermind, redeeming (?) Apollo (🤢), Thetis trying to ruin Zeus’ marriage, Persephone being raped, her scholarship, her school work (?), Eros and psyche, semele and Dionysus, Daphne and Thanatos (gag), Minthe!, and now a whole new war all on top of the ACTUAL myth its popularity and readership is based off of.

For all we know Smythe does genuinely want to tell these other myths (the majority which have nothing to do with HxP to begin with) but just isn’t patient enough to just save them for a spin off series, so she shoves them all into this despite saying back in 2018 she was not going to do. Problem too is that doing that makes HxP, the actual selling point, completely minor in the grand scheme of it all. Who cares about Persephone cuddling her boss when they’re accidentally causing another war under their own noses? How are they good people at that point?

If Demeter or Zeus accidentally awoke a villain they’d be thrown in tartarus too, but we know Persephone will get off Scott-free for this and become queen with no push back. How is that fair? I will feel sympathy for her bad childhood and really bad two weeks on Olympus (good lord it’s only been like a month in comic and all of this is happening, what the hell) but why should we root for a character who is putting millions are risk and who we know won’t be punished or learn anything from it? From anyone not blinded by the rose-tinted glasses, Persephone and hades are villains as well, but because we get their POV we’re supposed to ignore that? No thanks.

Why isn’t the editing team cutting the fat, so to speak? You can’t write and market it off a singular myth and proceed to make it a b-plot because you got bored of it and don’t know how to get from point A to point B. There are a ton of super successful Webtoons that wrapped everything up strongly in less than 100 episodes, some with even less, but LO seems determined to be over 200+ at this rate with the actual plot/hook (HxP) being MAYBE 1/6th of the actual product, with everything else being unrelated side plots smythe found more interesting. Though I guess they do kinda matter in this case, it’s literally Persephone’s fault AGAIN she’s putting countless lives in danger, yet it still won’t be her fault somehow? It’s all just very stupid.

(4) What i find annoying about the LO marketing is they keep insisting it's this "global phenomenon" but that is only correct if you only go off the English speaking server. It was not received well in Korea, it doesn't even rank in the Latin American server, and only does ok in France, and it's not even on other Asian servers. I understand media tends to be very America-focused, but that seems to be twisting the truth. If they were honest True Beauty would be marketed as the "global hit", not LO.

(5) Whats up with LO giving some characters random american names? In few fastpass episodes was characters that have bame anna, larry and derek and in previous episodes there was characters with american names. Isnt that supposed to be greek mythological beings that should have greek names?

(6) what really makes me mad about LO is just that it has so much potential that isn't met. With a competent writer it could be a nuanced look into complex characters who aren't easily cut into black and white, and art wise, especially with the long strolling panels, it shows with a competent eye they can absolutely make something constantly visually strong, yet both genuinely good moments in either writing ad art are few & fair in between in over 150+ episodes. I'm sad over what could have been.

(7) I find it so weird that ppl are praising Rachel for giving Persephone stretch marks but the whole comic barely has diversity. There's only been a handful of plus sized women and I haven't seen any plus sized men so far (I could be wrong. Also, only one goddess is plus sized. Everyone else is skinny.). Nobody has kinky hair and a lot of the guys are extremely tall compared to the women.

#anti lo #answered

30 notes · View notes

intelligentdumbass · 4 years

Text

No I Cannot Get a Break(Part2)

(The first part’s over here)

“Athena? Have you seen Apollo?”

The grey-eyed goddess raised an eyebrow.

“Wasn’t he with you?”

“Yes, but that was an hour ago.” Calliope frowned. “Hermes ran off to look for him but he hasn’t come back yet-”

Just then, two immortals came running out of the trees; it was the two gods that the muse was looking for. She immediately rushed towards them and inquired as to what had happened; Athena was about to do the same when her father’s voice thundered across the garden.

“AH-” “What’s this??” On his hand, he held out a fruit made out of pure gold. It had stuck him right on the face while he was chatting with his siblings, just like the messenger before him.

“Father.” Apollo suddenly spoke up and stared; one of his eyes twitching. “Father please, for the love of Troy, throw that into Tartarus!”

Before Zeus could respond, the apple was already gone; snatched out of his hands by the god of love. His wings instantly threw him up into air as he curiously stared at the fruit of gold.

“Pft, what’s wrong sunshine? Why so stressed?” Eros grinned mockingly at the sun deity. “Tis’ just a yellow apple with a few words craved onto it.” He cleared his throat in preparation to read the inscription. “To the fairest goddess of them all!”

Athena could’ve sworn Apollo’s fingers were twitching like he wanted to break Eros’ neck. Calliope and Hermes seemed to be holding him back; trying to calm him down. She gazed back at her father, who was just a tiny bit drunk, and he looked both confused and slightly concerned. This surprising turn of events had gotten a lot of the other immortals’ attention; even Artemis had took notice and quickly sped towards her twin.

Meanwhile Eros had flown over to his mother and exclaimed, “Well, well, well… I guess we all know who this trophy belongs to then now, don’t we?”

Aphrodite smiled, flattered by her son’s compliment. Just before she was handed the prize, however, a spear came hurling out of nowhere; piercing the fruit and pinning it against one of the trees.

“Wait.” Athena’s voice was commanding; briefly glancing back at her distraught younger brother. “This all feels a little off. Where did that apple even come from?”

Eros rolled his eyes. “Don’t know; don’t care Misses killjoy.” He flew over to retrieve the fruit; tossing the spear aside.

“I can assure you that I sense nothing of the like, no malicious auras or weird obscure magic, at least, not on the apple itself. If anything, this is probably just some secret admirer trying to praise their idol.” He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that proves he had a suspicion that wasn’t the case at all. “Besides, why do you care? Don’t tell me that this trophy was meant for you instead?”

“What-” “No!” The goddess seemed appalled that he would even consider that to be a possibility.

Then there was a loud sigh. It was from Hera.

“If that truly is why the apple exists,” She said. “Then for all you know it might’ve been intended for me instead. It landed very close to me after all; specifically onto my husband’s face. Maybe they just had bad aim?” It was hard to tell whether or not she was joking (‘She’s most likely joking’ Athena thought), but even Poseidon muttered against his breath that she did have a point.

Aphrodite just smiled. “Then why don’t we let the king of the gods decide?” She nodded at her son, who gave the fruit back to the lightning-bearer. “Tell us my lord, who do you think deserves to be awarded with the title of the fairest goddess of them all?”

Zeus blinked. “I…” “You want me to choose between you, Athena and Hera? With all of my possible biases I think I would be the least fitting judge for that matter.” He was still uneasy about his eldest son’s reaction; even quickly glancing back to make sure he wasn’t having a panic attack amidst all of this.

‘If only he hadn’t blocked my voice from his head.’ He thought. ‘Then I would know what’s bothering him so much.’

On the other hand, now that he was holding it again, Eros seemed to be right. It looked and felt like a normal and harmless shiny apple; a very pretty one at that.

“Let a mortal who is not part of any of your cults decide, and swear not to endanger their life over some trivial matter such as this.”

Aphrodite peered off the edge; her gaze landing on a young prince of Troy. “I think I already know who.”

Eros took the golden apple and flew down onto the earth. She motioned to the two goddesses to follow as well before morphing into a dove; flying just behind her son.

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

Paris stared at the three deities standing before him. At this rate, it looked like he was too shocked to be able to choose anyone at all. Athena internally sighed, wondering how she got herself involved into this mess.

“Okay well, how about this.” Aphrodite pondered for a moment. “If you choose me, I’ll give you the most beautiful mortal princess the world has ever laid their eyes on.”

Eros gave his mom a look, but she whispered to assure him that she was in fact not finding a way to get rid of Psyche.

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s just cheating-”

“Zeus never said anything against bribery~”

“In that case,” Hera said. “Choose me and you’ll get to rule the whole of Asia Minor.”

The war goddess thought that was an extremely irresponsible opportunity to give to someone as young as Paris, but then again maybe that was the point. She suddenly felt a little bad for the young prince.

“If you choose me, I can give you unlimited wisdom and glory in war.”

She could’ve sworn she heard Aphrodite curse. However, defying most of their expectations, Paris uttered the words, “I choose Aphrodite” and awarded the golden apple to the goddess of love.

‘Oh. Well, I tried to give him the least risky option.’

When she got back to the main event, it was almost like nothing had ever happened. Despite the incident that had killed the mood a few minutes ago, the party seemed to be back in full swing. She noticed one key difference though. Athena walked over to some of the muses; giving Clio a gentle tap on the shoulder.

“Where’s Phoebus?"

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

Apparently Apollo disappeared when they weren’t looking, so Hermes, Artemis and Dionysus had gone off to go look for him in the depths of the garden.

“I tried to approach him, but he wouldn’t even look at me.” Zeus sighed. “And I am still not able to hear his thoughts.”

“Don’t worry, if I see him I’ll try to talk to him.”

“…please do.”

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

There were already three gods searching for him among the trees, so she figured she might as well try looking inside the palace itself. Besides, if he really wanted to be left alone, he might’ve tried hiding somewhere else, far from where Hermes last found him. Plus, she had a few spots in mind that she could try checking out.

The silence was eerie, but also oddly comforting. There was nothing but the soft hollow thumps of her steps as she walked through the empty halls. As luck would have it, it didn’t take long for her to finally spot the god sitting on the railing of a certain balcony, the one that even their father himself often stood on.

The blonde was tense, but when he turned around and saw Athena, he started to relax.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your steps scared kind of scared me. I thought I was having another vision for a second there… I mean, you are the real Athena right?” He laughed, but his breath was more than a little shaky.

“Of course I am the real Pallas Athena. Who else would I be?”

She allowed a full minute to pass by to let him fully process her statement to be true before moving to stand right next to him.

“What’re you doing here?” Apollo asked.

“I wanted a break from the party.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” He paused. “You sure it’s not because you’re salty about the golden apple?”

Athena scoffed. “Don’t even think about trying to tease me. Why on earth would I care that much about some accursed fruit?”

“Aw, don't worry Athe. If I were him, I would've definitely chosen your deal instead."

"Well, of course, no surprise there. You choose what you don’t have after all."

“Wha-” “I was trying to cheer you up and this is what you do to me?!"

"So, you admit that what I just said is true?"

He had his hand over his chest as if he were offended; that forced smile on his face feeling just a little bit more genuine, until it slowly dropped entirely.

“Paris fucked up, Athena. Paris really fucked up.” He sighs. “Do you still remember their oaths?”

“Helen’s suitors?” She thought for a moment. “Apollo, I doubt Paris would still want to keep her after seeing the army that comes after-”

“But he will.” His voice suddenly hardened. “And he’ll keep her for over 10 fucking years and will become the torch that burns his city down to a crisp.”

Her tone softened. “How much did you see?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that Thetis is about to give birth to one of the greatest warriors in recorded history and-” “and-” He suddenly stopped, stuttering.

Athena placed a steady hand on his shoulder, as if he might fall.

Apollo’s grip on the railing tightened. “I-” “I don’t want to lose another one, Athena. Not now, it’s too fucking soon I literally just watched Asclepius-” The tears started trailing down his cheeks until they dissipated into thin air as a whiff of steam. “I just want a fucking break!”

There was a long pause before he continued.

“Why do I care so much?”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t. After all, I’m barely any better.”

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

“Athena?”

“Yes Phoebus?”

“What do you think dad’s going to do about this?”

“…I don’t know.” ------------------

“Apollo?”

“Hm?”

“Do you hate him?”

“…sometimes I wish I did”

“…”

“I-” “I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t be. I occasionally wished I did too, but it’ll never be that simple, no? Who would even replace him?”

“You?”

Athena laughed. “Weren’t you the one always asking to be his heir?”

“I was a very stupid toddler back then, hell, probably still am now. I mean, don’t tell me you actually trust me to run this thing?”

“True. I don’t blame you for not believing in yourself. Honestly, I don’t either.”

“I-” “Wow, you couldn’t have at least sugar-coated it a little?”

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

“Hey Pal, maybe we could share the throne?”

Athena immediately made a face of disgust. “But then if we kept our titles as King and Queen, someone might assume we married each other.”

“Wow!” Apollo tried his best not to laugh. “I mean, I don’t want to marry you either but still, you make it look like being with me is a bad thing!”

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

“I-” “I don’t want to get rid of him Apollo...”

“…I know.”

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

For a few minutes, all they did was stare and enjoy the view; looking down at the earth like they owned everything that the light could touch. Then with a flick of her hand the goddess summoned her spear and slung her shield over her back.

“Apollo, get your bow.”

“Wait-” “What? Why?” It took a few moments for him to realize what she was suggesting. "Athe, no matter how much I try, you know I’ll never stand a chance against you in close combat-"

“I did say get your bow, not your sword, didn’t I? I mean, you’re welcome to try if you want.” Her eyes were taunting him. “Father invited almost every single deity to Thetis and Peleus' wedding in Olympus. Excluding the mortals, the rest of Greece should be fairly empty right now."

"...I guess a duel does sound fun.”

"It certainly does. Besides, you really look like you could use one right now."

"Did-” “Did you just insult me by calling me out of shape or am I just over thinking this and you're genuinely trying to cheer me up?"

"Maybe both."

“…Fine. Only a few conditions: no one uses the aegis or the masterbolt, and that you better be a hundred percent sure father isn’t watching us right now.”

“Of course, wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of him now, would we? I’m not that mean.”

After a few moments of consideration, Apollo summoned his signature bow and wore his golden quiver. Taking one last glance behind them to assure themselves that they were, in fact, alone; they went over the railing. It was faint and easy to miss, but when Athena saw the eager and determined look on his face, she couldn’t help but smile.

‘Now there's the arrogant bastard that I know.’

"Mt. Othrys?" She asked.

"Sure, the closer the more convenient.” He grinned. “Mt. Othrys it is.”

And so, they jumped off, straight into the abandoned ruins of a golden age long forgotten; landing in the middle of all of those towering columns and mighty slabs of black, the remains of their father’s decade long war.

#Apollo #Athena #golden apple #greek gods #greek mythology #MyWritingShit #If no one writes Apollo and Athena interactions #then I will

20 notes · View notes

normal-thoughts-official · 4 years

Note

Eros and Psyche aus are pretty common, I've seen a few Malec ones, but consider, Apollo and Hyacinthus. Beautiful, gnc immortal being with a lot of failed relationships? Pretty mortal from an important family who thinks the society he lives in needs to change? Hella amgst? Lorenzo can be Zephyr, angry because Magnus 'gets everything he wants' and he 'doesn't deserve to be happy'. For the flowers there are species of roses called Alec's red roses (pinkish red) and Alexander roses. (orangey red)

n i c e tho imma be real ill need that to have a happy ending fifndkdndkdmdk but yeah ur right they do fit the characters

other deeply unexplored greek mythology au idea is hades and persephone, like.... hello? when magnus was stuck in edom and alec said he'd go and be there with him? that's the first thought that came to mind. like the angels intervene or something and they end up with the six months at a time deal or something. and it fucking sucks because Magnus doesnt fucking want to be in edom. its slightly more bearable when Alec is there, but still, he misses the people, the food, the world, his family. and edom is filled with terrible memories, he told asmodeus that being there again was his worst nightmare, so like. good amgst

and he hates that he's there, hates every second, has terrible nightmares with the worst memories from his abuse and childhood that wake him up in a fit of sweating and thrashing, hoarse from screaming, and when he wakes up and sees where he is? he wishes he was still in that dream

and Alec knows it, and hates it, because Magnus is there dealing with this alone for over half of the year, and he can't see the things that he loves anymore. Magnus was always so lively and intelligent and curious, he liked to travel the world, meet people, learn new languages, read about new cultures, invent things, study. the world was always Magnus' canvas, to be created as well as explored, possibilities and knowledge and he just loved it so much?? and now he's kept away from it all. and no one but Alec can even visit because it could disrupt the rift. he only gets to hear from Raphael, or Cat, or Madzie, through Alec. it's hell. i mean obviously but. it's even worse

meanwhile as soon as Alec sees himself back in the real world hes just. so angry. he's tried everything, even bargaining to take magnus' place, because magnus doesn't deserve to keep losing everything for Alec, he should be able to make a sacrifice too, Magnus shouldn't be forced to live in a nightmare like this...... and he doesn't sleep, doesn't eat, just throws himself into research on how the fuck to get Magnus out of there, to bring him back where he belongs, god damn it, because Magnus deserves the entire world at his fingertips, and the world deserves Magnus back, because without him it's like there's nothing

and when the day comes that Alec finally gets to go back to edom, when he can finally rest even if for a little bit, because even if he's getting nowhere there'll be something he can do for Magnus, keep him company, give him love, tell him everything he's missed and bring him presents and news from his friends and family, hold him, make his life a little better, protect him... he's so fucking relieved, and so is Magnus, and Magnus hates that he's relieved because he's just dragging Alec with him to his nightmare, what is wrong with him, is he so rotten that he thrives in bringing people down with him to this nightmare, does he want to take it from Alexander, who has his family and friends too, dull his light and hurt him, is he becoming like his fucking father-

except as soon as Alec gets there he runs to Magnus, desperately, barely able to breathe, and all but leaps on him, holding him so tight and smiling once he feels him in his arms, acting like its the first time he's breathed in months. and it feels so good, Magnus can barely handle it, because even if he's still in hell, at least he feels loved

besides, there's always that doubt at the back of his mind, telling him that maybe this time alexander won't come. maybe he's finally done with this, tired of wasting his life with Magnus, who has nothing to offer him but more and more broken pieces of himself. but he does come, and when he does, he looks like he's in heaven, not hell, simply because Magnus is there and he can finally be with him, take care of him. and it's not- it's not what Magnus wants, and it's not enough, because he's still trapped and hurt and bleeding inside, but when Alec hugs him for the first time, it feels like it

and the last day of Alec's in edom is always so. franctic and desperate, Alec not wanting to let him leave his side for a single second, holding him tight, handling him so gently Magnus feels like he'll break from the carefulness of his touch, and he says goodbye between kisses, holding magnus' face, promising him that he's gonna keep looking, that he's not going to give up, he's not, he's not, he promises, Magnus won't be there long, Alec will get him out, no matter what it takes, he promises- and then he's suddenly gone and everything is empty and Magnus chokes up and cries. and Alec, back on earth, screams and punches his punching bag until his knuckles are bleeding, in deep frustration and hurt and that feeling of being so useless, too useless to help Magnus, too useless to even be there with him, even though he promised, he promised his forever, and he promised he wouldn't let Magnus be hurt again

and Magnus stays in edom and cries and wakes up from the new nightmares instinctively reaching for his side, like he's gotten used to in the last few months, and then chokes up as he realizes that he's alone again, that he can't even have that semblance of comfort he used to for these few months, and this time it might be for real, because Alexander has to give up eventually, doesn't he?

so he moves on and tries to busy himself and keep the world safe, and, if possible, try to make edom at least a little better. he keeps his presents and hopes against hope that he'll see his family and friends again

until one day, he wakes up thrashing, not from nightmares, but from this weird dizziness and pain, like he's going to throw up, like he's been poisoned, and when he sits up, he feels himself be yanked back, and he blinks, and he's on his loft. and Alec is laughing and looking so relieved, izzy by his side holding his shoulders, and Madzie and Raphael both leap on him, smiling and crying at the same time, because they'd missed him so bad and god it's worked, Magnus is back, he's back and saved and edom is sealed and no one will ever have to be there again. and Cat also hugs him, and then izzy and finally Alec, laughing as he holds Magnus' face and kisses him so gently, and Magnus smiles through tears, and thanks them, for not giving up on him, for being there. and its so emotional and ddmdodm for the first few days raph and cat and madzie are all glued to magnus' side, catching up, telling and retelling the same stories Alec had told him a thousand times, but they all relish in it, telling them again and again until it starts to feel like Magnus was there. and the family is back together, and they're all okay, and that's all that matters

#i went off #sorry #ask #anonymous #sh #shadowhunters #malec #malec fic #malec ficlet #malec hc #magnus bane #alec lightwood #raphael santiago #catarina loss #madzie loss #brotp: i'll do whatever it takes to protect them #long post #overflowing trashcan

33 notes · View notes

oddlyunadventurous · 3 years

Text

BOOK REPORT 2020

I’ve always been a sparse reader but 2018 and 19 had me accelerate my reading habits to the point that I think I’ve read the most books this year that I ever had. I suppose I’ll count them all here, just to make sure!! I said something or other about the Moomin books at the end of last year’s Inkt*b*r so, this being the month of traditions, let’s make a new one by tallying up my literary “yays” and “nays” at the end of the season.

Video game text boxes don’t count, online publication articles don’t count, psych/aesthetic papers and 1000 page biosemiotic textbooks don’t count, but they have sure pursued me in my sleep during the year as well. This list is really mostly for my benefit (and no I won’t get a Goodreads account tyvm), so under the cut you’ll find a list of titles in roughly the order I read them, along with short notes. I’ve done longer reviews of these books elsewhere and I need not bore you with them here.

K. Stanislavski - An Actor Prepares (1936) I started reading this book in 2012, then dropped it because I couldn’t understand it at the time. Kostya attends acting school and gets lessons from The Director. He learns to sleep like his cat.

K. Stanislavski - Building a Character (1949) Supposed to have been published along the first one in a single volume. Kostya continues his lessons. A lot of thoughts on walking, gaits, eloquent speech, phrasing, etc. Both these books are wonderful looks into the author’s artistic life. It’s very heartfelt and down to earth, considering it’s quasi-fiction made to edutain. Very inspiring.

M. Polanyi - The Tacit Dimension (1966) A book on the origin of knowledge, the integrated performance of skills, the emergence of life and other phenomena in the universe, marginal control between levels of reality, the moral death of the communist regime caused by the unbridled lucidity of the Enlightenment, the responsibilities of science, and thoughts about open societies of the future. This is one of the two shortest books I’ve read in the list, it covers all of this under 130 pages and manages to do it well.

B. Rainov - Eros and Thanatos (1971) A communist propaganda book attacking western mass media and escapist culture. It gets no points for being correct, as the author mostly swiped the truths from french philosophers. Very variable in its intellectual prowess, almost as if it picks its arguments in order to push an agenda. Informative but also infuriating. Also expectedly homophobic.

J. Hoffmeyer - Signs of Meaning in the Universe (1997) A somewhat pop-sciency book about biosemiotics. Forgettable but also humbly written and explicative.

A. Noë - Varieties of Presence (2012) An unimpressive book about sensory perception. Noë’s theory on sensorimotor action is worth considering but the book is poorly edited and mostly spent arguing with peers.

E. Fudge - Quick Cattle & Dying Wishes (2018) A look into a registry of last wills and testaments from the period 1630 - 1650 in Essex. The book is about early modern people’s relationship to their animals and what they meant to them in life, as well as in death. Fudge’s argumentation is sharp and her style is modern. Being a scholarly book it is really overwhelming with the footnotes sometimes, but otherwise satisfying. One gets beautiful glimpses of family relationships, thoughts and feelings that people now dead for 400 years once held.

G. Márquez - One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967) The Buendia family get all their sons killed. The Banana Company sucks. People love each other. A lot happens, generally. It is a hundred years, after all. The upper class sucks.

K. Polanyi - The Great Transformation (1944) The Industrial Revolution sucked. England sucks. It reduced all its workers to subhuman wretches. Every single decision made after the empiricists made labour and land fictional commodities has been a band-aid to the essential contradiction that the market economy wants to annihilate its human host. Laissez-faire sucks. It caused WW1. Fuck everything. Fun book.

R. Coyne - Peirce of Architects (2019) Talks about architecture and the ideas of logician/father of pragmatism Charles Sanders Peirce (1839-1914). Informative about both. Brisk and not very in-depth, but to its benefit rather than its detriment.

R. Williams - Culture and Society (1958) A survey of the 18th and 19th century England, and the emergence of the concept of “culture” as defence against the horrors that the Industrial Revolution inflicted upon society. Consists of some two dozen outlines of contributors to the romanticist tradition, from Adam Smith, through Ruskin, to Orwell, their beliefs, contributions and literary works. Very eloquent and interesting.

E. Fudge - Brutal Reasoning (2006) A fantastic book about much: early modern views of the difference between a human and an animal, the Christian discourse of reason, the logical fallacies that lead to its implosion, the advantageous use of dehumanisation by imperialists in other to genocide natives, Montague and Shakespeare, and the ethical hell of animal murder that led Descartes to deem animals as machines so as to allow his buddies to perform live vivisections on dogs without feeling guilty about it (this is the real reason, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise). There is even space for an entire chapter about an intelligent horse who could tell a virgin from a whore and learned Latin at Oxford. This is my favorite book I read this year, so it gets an extra long review.

R. Williams - The Long Revolution (1961) A sequel to Culture and Society that’s worse. The start and end are brilliant but the middle sags. It contains some historical reviews of English cultural elements, like the newspaper industry, the Standard English vernacular and the realist novel of the 19th century, but honestly if the book was just about about the creative state (intro) and Marxism (outro) it would’ve been fine, if not better.

P. Klee - The Thinking Eye (1956 & 1964) Bauhaus boy in 1920s Germany! Love you Klee, xoxo. You really have to read his thoughts to understand his work imho. You can appreciate it just fine on the surface level, but his completely eccentric (though very self-consistently logical and sharp) views on art creation open a new outlook into his primitive approach.

F D.K. Ching - Architecture: Form, Space & Order (1979) A staple book for architecture students. Or so I hear. Steeped in gestalt psychology. Very good, though not necessarily stuff I don’t know already. Very nice looking pencil illustrations, Ching looks to be an accomplished technical draughtsman.

H. Wölfflin - Principles of Art History (1915) A strong contender for second place in the tier list. The book examines the transition between Classical to Baroque in Italy and Germany (and all the Germany clones, like the Netherlands). It is a systematic, precise aesthetic treatise that reveals much by conceptualizing and grouping characteristic art features in which the two styles differ, then explaining their bearing on their decorative content as well as the outlook on life that they embody. Lovely.

M. Porter - Windows of the Soul: The Art of Physiognomy in European Culture 1470-1780 (2005) A historiographical treatise about early modern views on physiognomy. The book deals mainly with the extant literature on the subject and tries to gleam what it could mean for the customs at the time - palmistry reading, occultism, persecution of the “gypsies” and the Christian scientific project of attaining meaning. Macro- and microcosms, as above so below, hermeticism, that sort of stuff. It’s an interesting read but it’s too long, the quality of writing varies greatly from chapter to chapter, and it is far too expensive. Wouldn’t recommend it.

S. C.Figueiredo - Inventing Comics: A New Translation of Rodolphe Töpffer's Reflections on Graphic Storytelling, Media Rhetorics, & Aesthetic Practice (2017) This is the shortest book I read, mainly translating Töpffer’s 1845 "Essay on Physiognomy" along with giving his biography and some other paraphernalia. It’s not worth the price for the content contained within, but Töpffer is the father of the modern comic book, so I thought I’d learn what his philosophy was. On that front, at least, very interesting! If only I knew French I’d save myself the trouble and read the original, which is now public domain.

D. Bayles - Art & Fear (1985) A useless self-help book. Not entirely bullshit but completely banal from all angles. Shouldn’t even be on this list but I did read it, so...

I. Allende - The House of the Spirits (1982) A child rapist gets a redemption arc. Well, kind of. All women are queens. Men are awful. The poor are wretches and it’s their fault. Oh no, the communists are going to take our land! Pinochet’s concentration camps sucked. Overall a better magical realism book than 100 Years of Solitude, to be honest. Very well written characters.

R. Arnheim -To the Rescue of Art: Twenty-Six Essays (1992) What it says on the tin. Wide range of subjects, from art appreciation, to schizophrenic and autistic child art, to gestalt psychology, to philosophy of science, to Picasso’s Guernica and the fate of abstract art, to reflections on the 20th century and the writer’s life in pre-nazi Germany and America. I love Arnheim, I’ve read many of his books and I’m glad I picked this one up.

R. Arnheim - Film as Art (1957) A book about cinematography, one of his earliest, actually, mostly a personal translation from an original German book he published in 1933. Somewhat outdated, but foundational. Not as informative to me but I don’t regret reading it.

G. E. Lessing - Laocoon; or, On the Limits of Painting and Poetry (1766) A book by a greekaboo about a fucking dumb poem and a statue of a naked dad and his two sons getting fucked by snakes. It’s misogynistic and authoritarian in several places, and altogether awfully full of itself. 100 pages of interesting observations stretched over 400 pages of boring Greco-Roman literary discourse.

L. Tolstoy - Childhood, Boyhood, Youth (1852, 1854, 1856) One story serialized in a magazine then later collated in three separate books. Aristocrat boy grows up in pre-revolution Russia. A very, very relatable coming-of-age story. Tolstoy is a lovely writer.

F. Dostoevsky - Poor Folk (1846) An epistolary novel consisting of letters between literally Dobby from Harry Potter and his maybe-niece, whom he wants to fuck. Starts bad, gets better by the end. A bit rough and tumble for Dostoevsky’s first, so I forgive him for wasting my time a little bit. A decent character study of the middle/lower classes, at least.

L. Tolstoy - Family Happiness (1859) An amazing romance novel for the skill employed in writing it. It is very short yet delivers so much emotion. Rather simple narrative at its core, but executed with such bravado one cannot help but be impressed.

F. Dostoevsky - The Double (1846) In which the Author starts swinging. A pathetic, neurodivergent old man gets used and abused by the people around him and nobody cares. Satirical and biting, better than his first.

A. Lindgren - Pippi Longstocking (1945) I last read this when I was 6 years old so I thought I’d refresh my memory. I remember disliking the book then and I can see why. Pippi’s kind of an asshole. Still very enjoyable to read. I know it’s meant for a younger audience’s reading level yet I cannot help comparing it with Tove Jansson’s books and how much better the prose in there is. Sorry.

***

I think that about rounds them up! That’s about 30 books, give or take. For next year I’m hoping to:

Finish Tolstoy’s and Dostoevsky’s bibliographies

Read more econ and marxist writing (low personal priority but i have to, in THIS economy *rolls eyes*)

Finish the Tintin and Moomin comics, as well as Jhonen Vasquez’s collection of edgy humor

Read more about botany and biology in general

Get started on Faulkner’s and William Golding’s bibliographies

Read more children’s books

Search for more Latin American fiction from the Boom

Read more psych/aesthetics/pedagogy literature, which seems to have become my main area of interest

Thanks for sticking till the end of the list, hope you’ve learned something and maybe you’ll pick one of these up if it took your interest. I don’t have to be a philistine just because I’m drawing video game fanart! Bye now!

#books #book report #reading #2020 #blogging #i'm busy reading i'll go back to drawing in a bit #not art

3 notes · View notes

saltlamp · 4 years

Note

what are some book recs? I want to read a new series 🤩

thanks for asking!! 🙈 get ready for some basic recs and hopefully recs you haven’t heard before! gets less basic and more pretentious (?) as u go down, i think,,, also sorry this took me so long to post! i’m the worst, bless you for putting up with me. the list and my descriptions are under the cut!

1. The Shatter Me series is pretty good so far. It’s a YA series that has eight books, and it’s completed, but I’ve only read the first three. So far, it has a lovelyyy enemies to lovers romance that is very reminiscent of ships like captain swan (and reylo, just for you, kat. there’s a scene in the second book that reminds me so much of the throne room scene where rey is debating joining kylo ren). It’s about a girl whose touch is lethal and her growing into her power and doing some badass stuff. She’s a little annoying because she’s horny the entire time but all in all, I’d highly recommend it, especially considering your tastes!

2. I always always always have to recommend the Six of Crows duology, if you haven’t read it yet. It’s objectively the best ya series around and is a sequel series to the Shadow and Bone trilogy, but reading that first isn’t necessary. It’s about a heist and the group of six criminal teens who try to pull it off, and the found family trope is strong with this one. I would die for every single character, and the plot is twisty and so so good!! The romances are all perfectly angsty, too.

3. Another ya classic is The Raven Cycle series and its spinoff, The Dreamer Trilogy (which only has one book so far). It’s extremely difficult to describe but the found family is good here too. It’s about a group of friends in Virginia who are looking for a dead Welsh king. There’s lots of supernatural things and dreams and psychics and dead people who are alive and alive people who are dead. It’s so odd but so endearing and unique and reading it makes me so nostalgic for some reason.

4. Onto non-ya but still basic! The Goldfinch is one of those books that you read because everyone says you should and then suddenly you’re crying over the last 20 pages and overthinking the meaning of life. It’s a coming of age story about a boy who steals a painting after his mom dies in a museum bombing and deals with the guilt and repercussions of this theft for the next decade or two. It can be a bit problematic (as I find with Donna Tartt novels) but it’s mostly good.

5. The Great Gatsby is a good one, especially if you (like myself) had to read it in middle/high school and didn’t actually read it. And then you go back and read it and realize it was actually really good! Basically: guy simps for girl, his neighbor narrates the whole thing, and there’s death and a roaring 20’s aesthetic and ~ s y m b o l i s m ~

6. The Inkworld Trilogy (starting with Inkheart) is a childhood favorite of mine and I just remembered by looking at my bookshelf omg. It’s about a girl and her dad who can read themselves and other things in and out of books, and there’s a specific obsession with this book called Inkheart. Super unique and lovely aesthetics and nostalgia, especially if you grew up reading books! It is middle grade, though (or at most early YA). Speaking of middle grade, if you haven’t read Harry Potter or Percy Jackson, you must.

7. Till We Have Faces by the guy who wrote Narnia is a retelling of the myth of Eros and Psyche through the eyes of the oldest sister who is so ugly she has to cover her face with a veil (or so she’s convinced). Her ‘ugliness’ is a big plot point, contrasted against Psyche’s beauty. She loves her sister more than her own life and is convinced that the beast who takes her in is actually evil. But who’s the real villain of the story? Who’s the real hero? Hmm... It’s such an interesting take on the myth and no one ever talks about this book!!!!! The last two chapters are a trip, but CS Lewis considered it his best work (and I agree!)

8. Any and every Shakespeare play. Specifically Much Ado About Nothing, it’s an easy read and has the funniest plot: Two exes ‘hate’ each other and people are tired of them fighting so they set them up. Side plot where girl’s cousin has to fake her death to defend her honor. I’m a shameless Shakespeare nerd. Ignore this one if u want lol, or watch the Emma Thompson movie!

9. If you actually are a Shakespeare nerd, I’d recommend the dark academia murder mystery novel If We Were Villains. It’s about a tight-knit group of seven pretentious young actors in their final year studying at an acting conservatory. This year, the casting list for a particular performance is different than usual, and it causes drama between the characters and eventually leads to one of them being murdered. It uses themes and plots from Shakespeare plays such as Julius Caesar, King Lear, and more, and there are scenes where characters’ actions off-stage match or contrast their actions on-stage, and it’s super cool if you’re a NERD like me.

10. Red White and Royal Blue is like every rom-com you’ve ever watched with every cute (fanfic) trope you could think of! What if the first son of the United States hated (read: was secretly in love with) the Prince of Wales? They’re rivals until they bond over Star Wars (there’s more than that, but, mood). They are so dramatic and the writing is wonderful. Covers absolutely everything I could ever want from a story, honestly. It has the best cast of side characters, too!

11. The All for the Game trilogy is no easy read, it’s very gritty and I’d recommend reading the list of trigger warnings before opening the books. But, if you’re up for it, it’s a good story involving a fake sport and a bunch of college students from rough backgrounds who play said fake sport and eventually bond over trauma and such. Also, it’s set in my state with an orange paw-themed sports team... hmmm familiar

12. It was at this point that I wondered if I should recommend the Shadow and Bone trilogy. It’s getting a Netflix series this year (!!) and it’s the series before Six of Crows, mentioned earlier, but it’s not as good. Many people complain about the ending (even though I liked it) and Leigh Bardugo’s definitely found her style since writing these. Also, the character development is lacking. That being said! It’s a good introduction into the Grishaverse and it helps you get a feel for the magic system and all that. It’s not a terrible series, it’s just cliche and Alina makes me want to rip my hair out :))

13. Classics promo ok... if you haven’t read all those (specifically greek) classics that were on the english syllabus that were ignored or sparknotes’d, now’s the time to read them to enjoy them! My personal favorite is The Iliad.

#here u go kat!! sorry these are late #i went through my entire 200 goodreads 'read' list for this #this looks like a syllabus i hate it #half of these are Gay whoops #that's just how it be babey #book recs #answered #thank you!!!#kat tag

5 notes · View notes

leleonora2000 · 5 years

Text

Sherlock’s ID, EGO and SUPER-EGO

Heyyy, welcome back to another Sherlock-Freudian theory supporting EMP. Today I’m dedicating myself to explain these aspects (Id, Ego, Super Ego) of Sherlock’s mind and how they’re rapresented in season 4.

It’s interesting the fact that the Holmes family seems having 3 children that have such different personalities (they share only their extraordinary intelligence). I’d say that Mycroft is the exact opposite of Eurus: he is cold, too rational, has common sense and has to keep everything under control including his emotions, on the other hand Eurus is messy, unpredictable, insane and literally craves affection coming to kill for it (poor Victor).

Sherlock is peculiar, his personality seems to inglobate part of his brother’s personality and part of his sister’s, he loves playing the violin (Eurus), he is more emotional that his brother (as Mrs Hudson already said in TLD).

But he resembles also his brother, he’s rational when he has to be, can be icy and tries to keeps his emotions under control.

THAT is why I started thinking that the Holmes brothers in season 4 are respectively Ego (Sherlock), Id (Eurus) and Super Ego (Mycroft).

These are the best definitions I found for those who are not familiar with Freud’s psychoanalysis:

GENERAL INTRODUCTION:

The id, ego, and super-ego are three distinct, yet interacting agents in the psychic apparatus defined in Sigmund Freud's structural model of the psyche. The three parts are the theoretical constructs in terms of whose activity and interaction our mental life is described. According to this Freudian model of the psyche, the id is the set of uncoordinated instinctual trends; the super-ego plays the critical and moralizing role; and the ego is the organized, realistic part that mediates between the desires of the id and the super-ego.

THE ID:

The id is the primitive and instinctive component of personality. It consists of all the inherited (i.e., biological) components of personality present at birth, including the sex (life) instinct – Eros (which contains the libido), and the aggressive (death) instinct. The id is not affected by reality, logic or the everyday world, as it operates within the unconscious part of the mind.

This does not susprise me if I think about Eurus’ supernatural/irreal mind skills even by ‘Sherlock’’s standards.

THE SUPER EGO:

The super-ego reflects the internalization of cultural rules, mainly taught by parents applying their guidance and influence. The super-ego aims for perfection. It forms the organized part of the personality structure, mainly but not entirely unconscious, that includes the individual's ego ideals, spiritual goals, and the psychic agency (commonly called "conscience") that criticizes and prohibits their drives, fantasies, feelings, and actions.

That explains the fact that Mycroft always tries to keep Sherlock’s impulses/emotions under control. This happens metaphorically speaking but also practically: Eurus locked up in a prison in the middle of nowhere.

THE EGO:

The ego is the component of personality that is responsible for dealing with reality. According to Freud, the ego develops from the id and ensures that the impulses of the id can be expressed in a manner acceptable in the real world and is a synthesis of these two components, he’s basically a philter for the Super Ego and the Id.

Basically like this:

And take a moment to appreciate the fact that Sherlock is the middle child in the ‘family’. I love them, case closed.

Well that’s it for today, tell me what you think about his and of course if there are some mistakes fell free to tell me ;) Enjoy.

85 notes · View notes

kontextmaschine · 5 years

Text

Some basic aspects of my personality changed after that early July almost choking->hypomanic episode.

I think my stable weight changed. Or my energy intake/expenditure, same thing, I’ve been dropping weight ever since. And I don’t feel hungry… or rather I don’t feel driven to eat. If I feel “I’m a little hungry” the result is “well if I get active I might have low blood sugar, watch out”, the same way “I’m a little overstuffed” yields “I might feel sluggish” and not “I should vomit”

More than that tho I’m just less anxious and more disinhibited in general. I’m more outgoing in general, more likely to start up a conversation about nothing and more able to maintain it, more likely to assume any given person will see me or any random thing I say as valuable and more likely to conclude afterwards that they did. Sure put myself out there a lot more, and I think I’m at least .5 Kinsey less straight.

And I really think it is “disinhibition”, this feels like a milder version of what I experienced on Lexapro that one time, and not an elevated mood. For one, it coexists even with significant felt tiredness and a difficulty in tackling planned-out writing like this, which doesn’t fit the pattern.

But also it’s just a different experience. When I’m in an up period, my baseline expectation what it will take to succeed doesn’t really change, it’s that THIS plan, THIS pickup line, THIS piece of writing are particularly good and compelling (and when I look back later, they usually are). But this is like a sense I can just offer… myself, and that’s a good deal that people will take. (Even at baseline, I often pump myself up a little pompous and then cut it with deadpan, to be a little larger than life while admitting how ridiculous and artificial it is, and I’m not even doing that here.)

In high moods it wasn’t that I could make meaningless small talk more fluidly, it was that I could make it meaningful - find the unexpected throughline linking two stray observations, twist it to be an example of something completely different we had been talking about before, phrase it so to make the obvious objection you’d have to say the exact opposite of a line you delivered earlier, finish with a reference that makes it clear that by adding how you did respond to something random you said months ago, I grok more of you than you meant to reveal.

Now what’s really jumping out on me is that I don’t really have any meaning to attach to this.

I feel like if I had a Freudian, or a Christian or a folk sense of psychology it’d be like “obviously surviving a brush with death will leave you changed and a bit more confident” because… Eros and Thanatos? Proving myself worthy? I can whip up a story about how I now know that my ideal conception of myself, calmly applying knowledge to the point of staring down death, is real, and every day I live since then I know I live in that reality, but honestly? That’s not my felt experience, and the inciting incident itself is glossed over in my mind in favor of the weeklong up period that followed.

But I don’t, my sense comes from DSM-III, experimental psych, and the “psychopharmaceutical revolution”, that there exist some qualities whose value varies between people or even over time, but is fairly sticky moment-to-moment, and known combinations of those values yield broadly predictable personality-mediated life experience.

Like, even the best mechanism I can think of to explain this itself relies on unexplained mechanisms, it’s “mortal threat induced parasympathetic response, once the threat was resolved ([and in combination with the satisfaction of resolution]) this manifested as severely elevated mood, [severely elevated mood is somewhat self-sustaining], [under persistently elevated mood fundamental personality variables become labile] [and they changed in this way]”, where each section between [brackets] is an unknown black box.

Which doesn’t drive me to change worldviews in search of meaning, I’m perfectly comfortable reading my life experience as the inherently meaningless interaction of emergent systems developed under evolutionary pressures far removed from the situation at hand. But from infohazard stuff it does seem clear that a lot of people respond to intense experience with changes in these “variables”, narrativized after the fact in various ways, and that does need some accounting for.

Alternate hypotheses:

I’m so invested in a particular vision of American culture that I experience a sort of reverse pathetic fallacy, as it grew faint I shifted into a guarded, anxious loss-averse “defensive stance”; as I increasingly notice signs of a reversal I subconsciously took advantage of the labile period to update to a more open, confident “forward stance”.

This shift in personality predates the experience, which merely accelerated it, made it more visible, or induced me to play closer attention to personality changes. – I called “horny week with kontextmaschine”, because I’d noticed I was talking about sexual dynamics and myself as a sexual being who interacted with them more, back in May, and chalked it up to the same “spring fever” effect I noticed in previous years.

The elevated mood led to suppressed appetite, this lead to metabolic and habitual changes that yielded a new dietary balance, this change in diet is what effected the change.

This is actually my true baseline mood, not elevated or depressed, and the “standard” I took for granted was actually a mild depression. Something has changed about my mood cycle to make this state more common - the cycle moderated, or alternately cycling more frequently so I spend a greater share of time in transition.

UPDATE: It was COVID in my brain

10 notes · View notes

quotes-by-dilanka · 3 years

Text

Joseph Campbell Re: Male & Female Roles:

TARNAS: When you were talking about the difference in male and female roles in mythology, I was thinking about how Psyche and Eros met, and how there are many male heroes in Greek mythology and relatively few females, Psyche being an examples of the exception. Could you talk about how you see the difference between the two?

CAMPBELL: Mythologies always deal with traditional social situations. We are in a whole new phase right now. Women are released from the chores of domestic life, which absorbed everything they had. Now women are able to initiate careers for themselves. But typically in our Western civilization men have been able to to say, I'm going to do this, that, and the other.

The women now are released, you might say, for that kind of thing. It creates a lot of problems because the only models they have in their chosen careers are male models. A lot of them lose their sense of what it is to be a woman by thinking that their value is one of achievement,not one of being, and it makes for very important problems.

TARNAS: You're saying that achievement is more male—

CAMPBELL: Absolutely. Right from the very beginning. Just look, for example, at the earliest art we have, the art of the Paleolithic. The female figures are simply standing female nudes; their power is in their body and their being and their presence. Many traditional societies regard magic as being originally the woman's possession and the men have stolen it or taken it from them because it's a woman's thing.

Then look at the images of the male. They are always doing something, they're always representing something: They are in action. Generally in the primitive culture context the woman is the one who brings forth the species, nature, and the man is the one who brings forth society. Those are the main polarities; and that comes right down the line.

FAVROT: Then is the problem in today's society that some women, in attempting to be more achievement oriented are actually creating a rivalry between two people trying to achieve at the same time? And that's why their union isn't lasting for any length of time?

CAMPBELL: The problem is not so much rivalry in achievement as the problem of the husband dealing with another person, on the other side of the tennis net, you might say. I have had this experience with my students. You see a student wake up to a whole new life possibility. That's a wonderful moment in teaching when that happens because you see a life career, a life trajectory, begin to show itself.

Then I meet her five years later, ten years later, twenty years later, thirty years later, at the alumni reunions, and you can tell the one whose husband let her develop as a human being.

The other possibility is that you see a man who marries and expects a wife. Well, we have the archetype of what a wife is. And it’s a very helpful archetype. Both lines can develop, but it’s in relationship to the man’s career, principally, and the woman’s with the children.

But when you have two careers in the house and the individual developments are on two not always parallel courses, there’s a lot of love required; I mean real pedagogical participation to help the other person to develop as a human being and still hang on to the relationship.

The thing that holds them together is making the relationship the top thing. It’s through the relationship that the development of each is taking place. And when you make a sacrifice, you are not sacrificing to the other person; you are sacrificing to the relationship.

That relationship involves the progression of your own life. So when people think of marriage as a continuous long love affair, then they are bound for trouble. Because it isn’t.

It is in a proper sense an ordeal [laughter). And the ordeal is that of individual development. And if there isn’t individual development taking place, well, what’s the good of it?

When you have a woman identifying with the animus, you get the usual business of the executive female.

She has identified herself with the masculine aspect of her own life and she has lost her femininity. She becomes interested only in achievement.

The unfortunate thing about it is that she doesn’t realize what her own effects are on her environment; her human relationship deteriorates all along the line. And then she begins to worry. What the hell's the matter here? I've watched it time and time again.

This is what you call an animus woman, a woman animated by her intent to be male. It destroys her life as a woman. And not only that, but all of her relationships.

#joseph campbell #hero's journey #power of myth #mythology #relationships #men #women #masculinity #femininity #yin yang #male #female

1 note · View note

psmith73 · 7 years

Photo

Malec & s2 fairy tale tropes

It’s not a secret that fairy tale AUs are quite popular in fandom, but what is more interesting is that the canon too played with this trope in season 2.

I’ve counted at least three fairy tale references / reimaginings – the first two are the most obvious ones – the Sleeping Beauty’s kiss (2x03), and the Beast’s wilting rose (2x18); the third one is probably a bit harder to recognize at first sight since it wasn’t yet adapted by Disney – the myth of Cupid and Psyche, which was also used in the TMI books (as far as I can see from the book spoilers). [And also little bonus: Malec vs. the demon!dragon]

1) Imo, the elements of the “Sleeping Beauty” fairy tale were not just used for one episode only, as it seems the tale’s narrative was, broken into two parts – the aforementioned 2x03 and, later, it resurfaced in 2x08.

From what I saw in tags, the Malec part of the fandom didn’t really like that trope in 2x03 much, for one - some thought it was a bit problematic because there was no consent for the kiss (which again, is the problem of the original fairy tale, most folkstales and myths in their original form are kind of problematic), the others didn’t like it because the kiss didn’t work, and thus was not of much use in the plot (also, the-ship-that-shall-not-be-named used it for its own incest-y purposes).

But, as the 2x18 “The Beauty and the Beast” reimagining showed, that probably was the point – they were not adapting the trope in its original form, but were subverting it.

The kiss did not work... but, in all fairness, it wasn’t the “true love’s kiss” that had awoken the Princess in the fairy tale (the Perrault’s version, not the Disney adaptation). The kiss, or, better yet, the Prince, was merely the part of the curse’s solution. True, Magnus is not the “Prince” in this scenario, instead, he acts as the “Good Fairy” - again, from the Perrault’s version, who saved the “Princess” and altered the evil prophesy.

The seventh fairy, who hasn't yet given her gift, attempts to reverse the evil fairy's curse. However, she can only do so partially. Instead of dying, the Princess will fall into a deep sleep for 100 years and be awakened by a kiss from a king's son... [After the curse is fulfilled] the good fairy who altered the evil prophecy is summoned. Having great powers of foresight, the fairy sees that the Princess will awaken to distress when she finds herself alone, so the fairy puts everyone in the castle to sleep. The fairy also summons a forest of trees, brambles and thorns that spring up around the castle, shielding it from the outside world and preventing anyone from disturbing the Princess. (x)

And here is why 2x08 also is part of this fairy tale narrative – we have the party and uninvited old fairy warlock – Iris, who curses the guests, and Magnus again, works as the “Good Fairy”, reverses the spell and saves the “Princess” along the way.

In the original fairy tale (the first part of the tale at least, not the second one about creepy cannibalism) it was the Good Fairy, who was the real hero of the story – the one who didn’t let the Princess die, who reversed the spell, who made sure that the Princess won’t be alone, when she wakes up 100 years later, who made sure that no creep or pervert would disturb the Princess’ and her people’s slumber. Whereas, the Prince was more like a device – a guy who just happened to be at the right time in the right place. And same in 2x03 – it was Magnus, who kept Alec alive - without his magic Alec would’ve been dead long before Jace could come.

Eta: The Malec vs. dragon!demon scene from 2x20 looks very similar to the Prince Phillip and the fairies fighting against dragon!Maleficent.

2) The wilting rose and “the Beauty and the Beast” narrative was established in 2x18, but in fact, started earlier, in 2x15, when Magnus metaphorically “recognized” himself as the “Beast” via his confession to Alec about his mother and stepfather - “He called me an abomination. He was right.” As in the tale, Alec (the “Beauty”) wasn’t repulsed by his “ugliness” but saw his real “beauty”.

In 2x18 the writing yet again subverts the fairy tale trope - the “Beauty”, despite true love, can’t save the “Beast” from what he is, the “Beast” can’t turn into a “prince”, because there is no curse to begin with. The “Beast” has to defend the people in his castle from the angry xenophobic mob (the Clave and Valentine); he has to choose between the safety of his people and his love for the “Beauty”.

3) Now, the last, but not the least fairy tale trope that we have in season 2 – the myth of Cupid and Psyche. The main distinguishing element of this trope is the violation of trust between the two lovers, which leads to their break up and later reunion.

From what I know about the books, the variation of this myth was at the basis for the book!Malec break up as well.

“Cupid and Psyche” is travelling myth that has numerous variations in folklore and fairy tales (for example “East of the Sun and West of the Moon”, “White-Bear-King-Valemon” etc. etc.).

In the TMI books, similar to the myth / fairy tales: the book!Magnus (“Cupid”) holds the book!Alec (“Psyche”) at arm’s length, and doesn’t tell the whole truth about himself, so Alec is manipulated by the evil sisters Camille to go behind Magnus’ back, and thus unwittingly betrays him. Which leads to the breach of trust, and eventual break up between the two, even though they do love each other (similar how it was in the myth / fairy tales).

The show, however, turned this trope on its head, when they added political and racial aspects to the betrayal. Again, despite loving Alec, Magnus breaks up with him, but not because he has a wounded ego to heal, or because of some curse, like in fairy tales, but because, although Alec was oblivious of it, his betrayal of trust bore heavy racial connotations and could have had serious repercussions for the entire Downworld race.

Here we have, on one hand, the Clave act as the “jealous sisters” in the plot, except it’s not jealousy, but systematic racism that is the cornerstone for the betrayal. On the other hand, we have the Seelie Queen act as “Venus / the Troll Princess / the Evil Witch”. In the myth and fairy tales, when Psyche / the Princess comes to Venus’ / the Evil Witch’s palace, she can’t talk to the Cupid / the Prince either because he’s in some enchanted sleep, or can’t recognize his beloved because of the spell. Compare this arc to 2x19, where Magnus couldn’t interact with Alec at the meeting, because his deal with the Queen didn’t allow him to speak there.

It really is interesting how the writers subverted the elements of the “Cupid and Psyche” myth and gave it a racial and political subtext, which makes a lot of sense, considering that Malec is not only an LGBT couple, but an interracial couple in the middle of a racially charged war.

But on the other hand, this same element of trust from the C&P myth was overplayed in 2x12 - in the myth Psyche, in the beginning of their relationship, couldn’t see Cupid, because he never showed her his true appearance. In folklore fairytale versions like “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” or “White-Bear-King-Valemon” he was disguised as some beast (bear), due to the Evil Queen’s curse. In the book the jealous sisters manipulate Psyche / the princess to betray Cupid’s / the prince’s trust and take a look at him while he’s asleep. The drop from the burning candle wounds and wakes up Cupid / the prince and he leaves Psyche. – thus the breach of trust element.

Compare to Valentine / Magnus switch in 2x12, due to Azazel’s meddling. Magnus, like Cupid is “disguised” from Alec. He tries to assure him of his true identity but Alec doesn’t believe him because of Jace’s and Imogen’s persuasions - here the later two function in the plot as the “jealous” sisters of Psyche. Like Psyche and Cupid, Alec and Magnus are in the beginning of their relationship, so that’s why Psyche and Alec listen to other people, but not their loved ones (Cupid / Magnus). Plus the parallels between the burned wound and the agony rune.

Also, if we really want to overanalyze it “Cupid” (Latin: Cupido, “Desire” or “Amor;” Greek: “Eros” or “Love”) and “Psyche” (Greek: “Soul” or “Breath of Life”) represent allegorical unity of soul and divine love. Alec represents “Soul” and Magnus represents “Love”. A Soul cannot live without Love.

And yeah, maybe I’m overanalyzing and these are just random coincidences (save for the SB kiss and BatB wilting rose - these were intentional references), but it’s worth noting how Magnus in all of these scenarious represents a magical character whether it’s the “Good Fairy”, or the “Beast”, or “Cupid”... after all, Magnus is quite magical.

Malec + Disney gifset

Malec + Cupid & Psyche parallels

Madzie saved Magnus’ life

Magnus + unreliable narrator trope in 2x15

#malecedit #dailymalec #malec #magnusbaneedit #Magnus Bane #shadowhunters #shadowhunters meta #myshedit #my gifs #my edits #Alec Lightwood #meta #long post #harry shum jr

342 notes · View notes

rottenappleusach · 7 years

Text

Psychoanalytic Dualism of Mrs. Dalloway´s characters

José Garrido Geraldine Lara Virginia Woolf’s ‘‘Mrs. Dalloway’’ portrays an interesting post World War I society in which characters are being constantly influenced by the consequences of this historical event. Not only are the changes imposed by governments shaping our characters’ minds and personalities, but also the development of their own internal world. How they metabolize the direct or indirect exposition to death of that period is going to be an important process to the self of the beings. As we have to deal with these factors of the conscious and unconscious of the mind, it results wise to psychoanalyze the characters’ behaviour in order to comprehend and illustrate more profoundly certain interpretations. Through Freud’s ‘‘Beyond the Pleasure Principle’’ we are going to understand the instinctive drives manifested in Clarissa Dalloway and Septimus Warren, which represent a relationship of dualism that clarifies the Freudian notions of Thanatos and Eros....

Through years, different types of criticism has been created in order to analyse literature in an effective way, this is to say, avoiding fallacies. One important school is Psychoanalysis that maintains the main characteristics that Freud has studied. Psychoanalytic literary criticism is understood as a tool that helps us discover and understand the reflection of the author’s most hidden desires and anxieties that are repressed by the conscious mind, inside a particular text. Freud, at first, bonded all human behaviour to the sexual instinct (‘‘Eros’’), but he realised that there was also another human natural instinct as a counterpart of the previous: the death drive (‘‘Thanatos’’). This way, the dichotomy between self-preservation and self-destruction is proposed as a constant identity struggle that, in literature, commonly ends with one of the two sides triumphing.

Jacques Lacan also refers to this idea that postulated Freud, but he centres the idea of psychoanalysis in four different perspectives: The Drive, the Unconscious, Repetition Compulsion and Transference. For our essay, the different conceptions of drive are important, thus are necessary to clarify. The notion of drive differs from Freud’s, in that Lacan’s drive is not a mean to accomplish satisfaction but to circle round the object, creating a repetitive enjoyable movement. Furthermore, Lacan’s drive presents a dual bond between the symbolic and the imaginary and not in opposition, both belonging to the same type of drive. As to Lacan drive is excessive and repetitive, all drives are destructive, so part of the Thanatos.

The death drive (Thanatos) pursues the self returning to an inorganic state, and as Julia Kristeva implies in her work ‘‘Black Sun’’, ‘‘he [Freud] considers the death drive as an intrapsychic manifestation of a phylogenetic going back to inorganic matter. Nevertheless… it is possible to note… the strength of the disintegration of bonds within several psychic structures and manifestations. Furthermore, the presence of masochism, the presence of negative therapeutic reaction… prompt one to accept the idea of a death drive that, … would destroy movements and bonds’’ (Kristeva 16-17). Here we notice that this perception indicates that there are two different death drives, one in the psyche manifested to the outside as a violent instinct, and the other manifested to the inner self, self-destructive. This last one can result in an accumulation and cultivation of death drive, and Kristeva questions if this process could be erotized by the self, being implicitly part of the pleasure principle and leading to a constant change of the satisfaction object.

Freud’s concepts of Thanatos and Eros are present in the characters of ‘‘Mrs. Dalloway’’ since they behave according to inner forces that propel them to do so. In the case of Septimus Warren Smith, it is important to say that he is a veteran soldier that is shell-shocked by the impact of World War I because one friend of his, Evans, was killed there and Septimus saw it. Before the war, he was a normal person and he liked poetry. But after that he became a numb person. Moreover he is becoming mad and has different kinds of hallucinations. At the time of the story, Septimus and his wife Lucrezia are waiting for a doctor in an apartment, who is going to treat Septimus’ problems. They both pass through a very lovely moment but then Septimus throws himself out the window and dies.

First, Freud’s Thanatos is highly related to the death instinct and to the self-destruction of the person. This is explicitly clear at the end of the work with Septimus death. Second, this sudden personality change after war is related to the Unconscious mind, proposed by Lacan, in which the repressed feelings change the way in which a person behaves. Also this is shown in the form of automatic thoughts that are the ones that appear without any apparent cause, which are represented by the desire of death at the end of the story. Moreover, the Lacan’s Repetition Compulsion concept is also present since, as the name says, Septimus repeated in his mind several things that happened in the war that made him feel distressed to the point he turns mad and suffers hallucinations which are also an important behavioural characteristic of this kind of phenomenon. This character present an extreme case of cultivation of death drive, and Kristeva’s notion of erotization of it seems possible as Septimus is always looking for the pleasure and liberation of death, re-encountering with his dead friend.

In the case of Clarissa Dalloway, Freud’s Eros is dominant. She had a strong relation with the life instinct. It has to do with solidarity and true love. Also she tries to relate people with each other because it is a pleasure for her, and this can be seen in the fact that she is giving a party to a high number of people.

“Every time she gave a party she had this feeling of being something not herself, and that everyone was unreal in one way; much more real in another. It was, she thought, partly their clothes, partly being taken out of their ordinary ways, partly the background, it was possible to say things you couldn't say anyhow else, things that needed an effort; possible to go much deeper” (Virginia Woolf, 134).

However, Clarissa is also affected by the World War I since she saw her sister being killed, so two of the Four fundamental principles of Lacan are present: Transference and the Drive Theory. The first is related to the reproduction of emotions related to past events since she constantly sees the changes that the war brings to society, and more importantly, she every now and then thinks about her sister. The second one is related to a negative state of tension created when some psychological needs are not satisfied. This is shown in the work through the Clarissa’s pessimistic way of seeing things because she is mostly interested in her own social gratification.

To contrast the ideas of different literary analytic schools, we want to talk about the Marxist criticism. The relation between this with Psychoanalysis is that both look for information inside the text but the difference is that Marxism tries to see things that exist outside the text represented in it, whereas Psychoanalysis tries to look for inner things that happen inside individuals represented in the work. Then, “Mrs. Dalloway” can also be analysed from a Marxist point of view: Clarissa Dalloway is disinterested with the “Eros” conception, but she behave in that specific way because of the individuals’ roles inside the society in which she is immersed where she is somehow obligated to do certain things. On the other hand, Septimus is mentally different to the rest of the society and he cannot comply with the personal established roles inside it, so he cannot find a viable alternative for the curse of his life because he has been rejected by his peers.

These ideas can be exemplified in Eagleton’s chapter “Form and Content”. Special attention is put to the form, meaning, and style of the work where context is important since it determines the way in which the story is understood. It is important to notice the society in which this story takes place has an established ideology, defined as “forms of social consciousness” (Eagleton 3), about the social roles of people. As context determines form, which is understood as “a complex unity of at least three elements: . . . literary history of forms, . . . certain dominant ideological structures, and . . . relations between author and audience” (Eagleton 12); both characters can be analysed from this perspective. Clarissa is a woman that behaves according to the dominant ideology of the period of time in which she is living, that the reader will understand if he/she is aware of the context. Although she feels the oppression of society, she is still part of the world she constantly critiques. Besides, Septimus is obviously affected by the World War I and it triggered a behavioural change in him. When the reader knows that, he/she can understand why he behaves in the way he does, because it contradicts the dominant ideology of that time since he is labelled as a mad man.

To conclude, it is important to understand that Psychoanalysis covers different areas of the conscious and unconscious of the mind, taking always beings and their internal worlds as the main object of study. The human instinctive deciphers a major part of characters when we need to analyse them. When a narration does not present tangible characters, we have to notice that the interpretation will focus on the author, who, despite its unwillingness, would reflect its own drive and satisfaction. If the focus of the analysis is not centred in any being but rather epoch, community or social environment, Marxist perspective is always useful to comprehend the outside elements that influence a literary work. Despite we do not mention equilibrium between the Eros and Thanatos in this work, it is always possible. Indeed, a ‘‘normal’’ person would be someone that has reached the equilibrium between these two instinctive desires. In literature, flat (simple) characters are often found with one of both sides more dominant than the other, but it is important to understand that the real world does not work as if it was black or white, nor does round (complex) characters.

Works Cited

Eagleton, Terry. Marxism and Literary criticism. London: Routledge, 2006.

Freud, Sigmund. Beyond the Pleasure Principle. New York: W.W. Norton & Company,

1961.

Kristeva, Julia. Black Sun: Depression and Melancholia. New York: Columbia University

Press, 1989.

Lacan, Jacques. Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis. W.W. Norton, 1998

Woolf, Virginia. Mrs. Dalloway. South Australia: University of Adelaide, 2015

#USACH #TheRottenApple #essays

3 notes · View notes