#man know thyself

[iridescentalchemyst]

Add me on The Pattern!

Add me on The Pattern!!This is one of the best astrology apps on the market- and that’s just the free version!! I first found The Pattern in 2018, and I thought it was incredibly impressive back then!! So much has been added over the years, including education about the VAST area of study that is ASTROLOGY. Your Pattern In the screenshots below, you will see how the app is set up. The first…

[justajsworkshop]

why is it complicated for me fact of knowing that having it in my conscience is more than real?

because you’ve over-identified with your human self instead of the divine self as pure awareness.

[medleyofthepast]

In regards to the asking about family thing you reblogged, curious about any of your mega man muses and if they have anyone they might consider family? (Idk who to ask about specifically, theres a lot of choices and I'm unfortunately indecisive 😅)

On anon or not, ask my muse about their family. (Accepting!)

((Well, Centaur Man considers Dr. Bourlas' sister, Ariana, a family member. As for Scorpion Woman, she very much considers Plant Man her brother, and even refers to him as irmão, which as I understand translates to brother in Portuguese. (Maybe I should install Duolingo again and start a crash course in Portuguese and Greek? Get my ass back in my Spanish while I'm at it too, my abuelo wouldn't be proud of my slacking off lmao)

Anyway, Medley, even as Aviation Woman, never considered the other PWNs as siblings, and the same goes for all the PWNs. You know how most siblings fight would have each other's backs when things get tough? Not the case with the PWNs, they all hate each other.

And as for Craft Woman and Pyro Woman, I haven't put that much more thought into their familial relationships.))

[mynzah]

Life...Death...Gratitude...

So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always…

[d-dormant]

and when i say diaval becomes a man when maleficent loses her magic both times in m:moe because he is a man more than a bird in essence now

we aren't talking about "i thought you liked being a bird" "not as much as i used to" enough

[artofwarforlife]

Episode 27:

"To know thyself is the beginning of wisdom." In Episode 27 of "Warrior: The Art of War for Life" I discuss how to develop an unbreakable mindset through self-knowledge. By examining the beliefs, thoughts, & feelings that drive us, we become unbreakable!

Know Thyself & Understand Others: The Secret to Becoming Unbreakable Hey, hey, hey! Welcome, everyone! Thanks for joining us! I’m so glad you’re all here listening. I really am. This week we’re going to talk about one of the most famous passages in the entire Art of War. We’re going to talk about knowing thyself and knowing others. So let’s go! If you’re a visual learner like me, check out the…

[gabriel-seths-pr-assistant]

Do space marines wear any normal clothes, like something a baseline human in Imperium would wear but made for their size? I'm new to warhammer and in most art of them I have seen they are either in armor or naked in underwear.

Yes, Space Marines do have "normal" clothes for everyday use.

They will often use their power armour for formal occasions since it's more impressive and intimidating — one of my favourite Gabriel Seth moments is in the short story Know Thyself by Andy Smillie when an Inquisitor pays the Flesh Tearers a surprise visit and Seth is literally not wearing pants:

Seth knelt in the Reclusiam’s centre, naked save for an ashen tunic that draped his broad frame.

Seth has to send two battle-brothers to distract the Inquisitor while he scrambles into his power armour to make a good first impression. 😂

However, as I have mentioned earlier, wearing power armour for extended periods of time creates an ungodly body odour. So when they're not in a combat AO, Astartes wear various types of formal, military, or casual clothes.

In general, Astartes are warrior-monks and will often wear monastic robes and habits (which can be quickly shed for a duel or close combat like Jedi in Star Wars:)

However, some Chapters also follow the fashions of their homeworld.

Here are some descriptions of Astartes clothes from the canon:

Ultramarines

Ultramarines are culturally inspired by Ancient Rome and often wear tunics or togas when performing administrative duties among mortals:

— Marneus Calgar.

Messinius was garbed in simple clothes: loose trousers, boots and a tunic that left his massive arms bare. He enjoyed the freedom of movement they gave him. So much of his life was spent enclosed in ceramite, he enjoyed being free of it.

— The Avenging Son.

They spoke in Guilliman’s library, his most sacred sanctum. Guilliman had removed the Armour of Fate, though it physically pained him to do so. Like Maxim, he wore a tunic and trousers. The primarch’s clothes were ultra­marine blue to Maxim’s forest green, and unlike Maxim’s heavily embroidered garb, Guilliman wore no decoration besides the buckle stamped with the ultima that fastened his belt. As usual, he sat at his desk, working while he talked.

— Godblight.

However, Ultramarines also have more formal wear:

Sicarius left his former quarters a short while later. He had donned a gilt-edged red cloak and light carapace breastplate over his training fatigues.

Prabian wore fatigues and light training armour like Sicarius, but he also had a small combat shield strapped to his left arm and wore a sheathed gladius at his left hip. A soft blue cloak with a silver trim swished in his wake.

— Knights of Macragge.

War Hounds

We also get descriptions of formal wear from the Great Crusade era, specifically the War Hounds (early World Eaters):

He looked at Dreagher again. Like Khârn, the man was dressed in white, bands of blue glittering across the high-collared tunic, boots and gauntlets a dark ceremonial blue rather than functional shipboard grey. The Emperor's lightning-bolt emblem gleamed at his collar and shoulder. His dress matched Khârn's own: the formal garments with which the War Hounds symbolised they were about their most solemn business.

— After Desh'ea.

Dark Angels

Dark Angels embrace the ascetic warrior-monk aesthetic to a very high degree:

— Will of Iron.

Space Wolves

Like most Fenrisians, Space Wolves wear furs and deerskin leather clothes:

Arjac moved to the other side of the throne to Fenrir so that he could see the vid-feed from the frigate approaching the space hulk. Like the Lord of Fenris, he was not in his armour, but dressed in a hide tunic and leggings, his arms banded with leather totem cords hung with fangs and bones, his thick belt riveted with iron honour badges. His freshly shaved scalp shone with the speckled starlight from the display. He dragged his fingers through his thick, newly trimmed beard.

‘It’s your pack, you choose the marking,’ growled Ullr. He was out of his armour too, but unlike the grey robes of Gaius and his companions he wore hide breeches tied with thongs from ankle to knee and a fur-lined jerkin that left arms and chest exposed.

— The Wolftime.

Blood Angels

In Dante, Dante himself dresses casually in red and gold day robes while doing office work. In Devastation of Baal, Dante also asks the assembled representatives of the Blood Angels Successor Chapters to attend a meeting in their day robes:

Erwin looked around, his curiosity piqued by the diversity of men who staffed his brother Chapters. As a last symbol of peace (although Erwin thought it more to save space) Dante had ordered that they attend in their day robes. These were almost as varied as their wearers.

— Devastation of Baal.

Blood Drinkers

The Blood Drinkers' homeworld, San Guisiga, is described as a hot, volcanic planet criss-crossed with lava rivers. In addition, a mutation of the mucranoid geneseed organ causes the Blood Drinkers' skin glands to atrophy, giving them very dry, itchy skin. As a result of the hot climate and skin irritation, the Blood Drinkers wear loose trousers and tend to go shirtless:

Chapter Master Caedis worked in his chambers. He was stripped to the waist; baggy, blood-red trousers on his lower half, soft black boots on his feet and a black tabard hanging between his legs – the manner of dress all Blood Drinkers affected when out of their battle-plate. The battle-barge was warm, the way the Blood Drinkers preferred; warm as the volcanic halls of San Guisiga, warm as blood.

— Death of Integrity.

Novamarines

The Novamarines, an Ultramarines Successor Chapter, lean more towards the battle-monks aesthetics:

Like him, he wore a bone-coloured habit, a deep-blue tabard hanging down the front displaying the Chapter badge: a skull surrounded by a stylised starburst. A silver sash embroidered with many campaign markings, the honours of a Deathwatch kill-team veteran, crossed the brother’s chest.

— Death of Integrity.

Entertainingly, in Death of Integrity, the Novamarines invite the Blood Drinkers to a formal dinner before embarking on a joint campaign and then fret among themselves about what to wear when welcoming the other Chapter, discussing the symbolic value of different attires. They finally decide on wearing their armour because they want to show the Blood Drinkers that the Novamarines are ready to follow the other Chapter into battle.

Iron Snakes

The Iron Snakes are heavily inspired by Ancient Greece, which also shows in their clothing:

Barefoot and dressed in a loose white chiton, Priad stood on the marble deck of the observation platform at the summit of the Chapter House's fortress.

— Brothers of the Snake.

Raven Guard

Agapito was dressed in black trousers and a sleeveless tunic. His arms bulged with muscles studded with the silvery wink of nerve shunt ports. His pale skin was shadowed by subcutaneous black carapace.

— Lord of Shadows.

Unnumbered Sons

His wargear was held in a makeshift armoury Daelus had set up at one side of the room. He left his armour on its stand and dressed himself in a loose tunic and trousers, pulled on his boots, and belted his bolt pistol around his waist. It was freezing in the station, but he didn’t feel it, and besides, nowhere was as cold as those millennia on board Cawl’s vessel. It was good to be out of his armour for a while. He had a loathing of confinement.

— The Great Work.

Areios had a few inches on the Firstborn Messinius. Neither of them wore their armour. Messinius was dressed in simple robes, Areios the off-duty uniform of short-sleeved tunic and trousers common to all the Unnumbered Sons.

— Throne of Light.

Knights Errant (early Grey Knights)

Clad in a long chiton of unadorned grey over a tan bodyglove with plastek-seals over his armour interface sockets, he was armed only with a few gardening tools hanging from a leather work belt.

— Luna Mendex.

Night Lords

In the Night Lords omnibus by ADB, the Night Lords are described as wearing robes or traditional Legion tunics (those of them that can still remove their armour, that is).

I hope this gave you a fair idea of how Space Marines might dress when they're not wearing armour. 😊

If others have more examples, feel free to add them!

[iridescentalchemyst]

Creating Holistic Goals Modules 1-4 + Workbook

Learn more about the course I have been writing! With links for view-only files on Canva for Creating Holistic Goals modules 1-4 + workbooks!

Creating Holistic Goals Course © 2023 by Ashley Marie-Iridescent Alchemystis licensed under Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ I wrote this course and handpicked every one of the following exercises to help YOU! Working without interruptions or distractions will help it go…

[fandom-imagines-stories]

The New Regular

Dr. John Carter x Reader

Words: 1868

Summary: The bartender of the hospital staff’s go to place meets a new, and desperately in need of a drink, doctor. 

Notes: Funnily enough, the first person I started writing for for ER is Doug Ross (which I will finish and post at some point, because God I love George Clooney) But I thought this short and sweet one would be a nice refresher for all of you getting into the show after the traumatising experience of The Pitt. Enjoy! 

-

It tended to be pretty quiet this time of night. The only ones left were night-shifters and drunks from earlier who hadn’t figured out a way home yet. You didn’t mind, though. This was your favorite part of the night, when everything started dying down and the music got slow. It was an old Billy Joel when he walked in, still in his scrub shirt and hair sticking up at every angle. 

You finished cleaning the glass in your hand and set it aside, watching the clearly newish doctor stumble his way up to the bar with the exhaustion of a just-ended shift weighing his shoulders down. 

“You look awful,” you said, giving him a small smile. “What can I get you?” 

“Something strong,” he muttered without looking up. His eyes are glued to the bar in front of him, and it isn’t hard to see that it’s been a rough day. 

It’s a look you’ve come to understand well, being the closest bar to County General. Whenever a doctor has had a long, hard shift, you could usually find them sitting across from you, hoping for something to ease the stress away. This guy was different, though. You could tell he was new because he still had this look to him, like he was exhausted but still ready to go right back in if they asked him to. 

Plus, you didn’t know any cynical old doctors who were this cute. 

You slid the drink you titled ‘Medicine’ across the bar towards him. You poured yourself one too for the hell of it. “Physician heal thyself.” 

The cute doctor laughed humorlessly and picked up the glass, but didn’t drink. 

“That bad, huh?” You sipped on yours, leaning on your elbows against the bar.

He snorted. “How much time do you have?”

Scanning the room, you found the one person who’d still been ordering. “Bertie, I’m cutting you off!” You shouted at the older man.

“What? I’m not even half-” He started to protest, but fell face first onto the wooden surface. 

The young doctor stood up, but you put a hand on his arm. 

“He’s fine.”

Sure enough, a great snore echoed through the quiet space. 

He sat back down. “Do you get a lot of hospital workers in here this time of night?” He asked. 

“Sometimes. Depends on how bad the shift is. Most of the time, it’s patients coming through. As if they still have the money to spend after visiting you guys.” You took another drink and let the burn coat your tongue. 

Finally, he did the same, though he made a bit of a face when he tasted it. “Jesus, what is in that?”

“You said you wanted something strong,” you snickered. God, he really was cute.

He drank some more, visibly trying to keep his reaction to a minimum, and set the glass back down. 

“I’m John, by the way,” he said. “Not that you, um, asked.”

“Y/N.” Pulling up the stool you kept behind the bar, you sat across from him. “So, are you going to tell me what’s got you coming to this joint, John or would you prefer to brood in silence like some of the other doctors?” 

You’d been trying to get Doug Ross to open up to you for years to no avail. The man was more closed off than the toughest safe, using his charm and flirting to cover up his deeper issues. He liked to tell you that you didn’t need that psych degree you were studying for; it seemed you were already practicing just fine.

“I lost a patient,” John answered, his voice going quiet. 

“Your first?” You asked gently. 

He shook his head. John ran a hand down his face and downed the rest of his drink. The mix of emotion and liquor turned his eyes glossy. 

“Doesn’t make it easier, though, does it?” He said. His hand went over his face again, then again through his messy brown hair. “I mean, it feels like for every person we help, there’s another going to the morgue. It just makes you wonder what the point is, you know? Like, why am I even trying? Why are any of us?” 

You leaned down so you could look him in the eye, his face still trained down at the bar. “It sounds like you could use another, doctor.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours. A faint smile teased his lips. “Maybe just a beer this time.” 

“You got it.” You opened up a bottle and set it in front of him. Sitting across the bar felt too unnatural, so you abandoned your chair and walked around to the barstool next to him. “So tell me about yourself, John.”

“Hm?” His gaze still had that distant, faded look to it. 

“You said you weren’t sure why you were there. You didn’t see the point,” you said. “Well, tell me why you started, and maybe that will help you see.” 

“Oh, I, um, I don’t-”

“What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think about wanting to be a doctor?” 

“How much my family hates it,” he blurted. He laughed, surprised at himself. 

“A rebel then?” You teased, nudging his shoulder. It was just nice to see him come back to himself a bit. 

He shook his head. “That’s not it, though. Or, at least, not the only reason.” A new kind of distance takes over his features. One that inspired a bit of awe. “I want to help people.” 

There’s a pull in your chest, one that you have to push down to keep yourself from leaning over and just smacking a kiss to those pretty, pouting lips. 

“How very noble,” you teased instead. 

He snorted. “Watch me get vomited on a couple of times, then you won’t think so.” 

“A humble doctor.” You raised a brow. “That’s got to be a new one for me.” 

“Not just that,” he grimaced, which broke into a smile. “I’m studying to be a surgeon.”

You leaned forward and ran your fingers through the front of his hair, making a point to narrow your eyes and huff. 

“What are you doing?” He laughed, but leaned into your touch. 

“I’m looking for a horn,” you said. “You’ve got to be a unicorn or something.” 

John pulled away and shook out the poof you’d left in his hair. He didn’t even look like the same person who sat down, the beaming smile on his face lighting up every corner of the room. 

The next time he came in was better. He’d saved someone that day-a little boy who’d drowned. It was a close call, but he was going to be okay. Just listening to him go on and on, it wasn’t hard to see that John Carter was exactly where he was meant to be. 

The next time he was down again, but you were able to get at least one smile that night. 

Every week, he came in. Sometimes he didn’t even get a drink, but he’d still leave you a tip at the end of the night. You told him he didn’t have to, but he never listened. One night in particular, when the bar was absolutely slammed, you didn’t get to talk to him as much, but he stayed anyway. 

“I think you’ve got yourself a shadow,” Megan, your fellow bartender that night, smirked at you. “Either that or he can be your first patient when you become a real shrink.” 

“God, I hope not,” you sighed, overly dramatic. She looked at you with a quirked brow and questioning look. A grin spread across your face. “Then I couldn’t ask him out.” 

She gave you another look that said ‘Fair enough’ and hustled off to help her next customer. 

John stayed until the crowd died down despite how exhausted his own shift had made him. There was something about being around you, every time you smiled or took a second to come talk to him that just made him feel awake. As other patrons filtered in and out and in and out again, he stayed. 

He swirled his club soda around his glass and watched you wipe down the last of the tables. John wasn’t sure how long he’d been coming to the bar. A couple weeks at least. He’d kicked himself more than once for leaving without asking you out. He always ended the night by laying his cash on the bar and telling you goodnight, looking back through the gaps in the neon sign to see if you were watching him leave. 

“So, Dr. Carter, is tonight the night?” You asked, leaning over the bar with a smirk. 

His eyes went wide and his cheeks turned red. Could you read minds? Were you that good at your psych degree?

“W-what?” 

“Are you finally going to let me make you another surprise drink?” You asked, as if there was no other possible meaning to your words. 

“Oh, um…” His cheeks only continued to redden. Sometimes he could still taste the, um, strong, concoction you first made him and the idea of having anything like it gave him a pre-drinking hangover already. 

You laughed, loving the way his face changed colors when you got him flustered. Might as well keep going. 

“I’m just kidding,” you said. “I want to know if you’re finally going to ask me out or if I’m going to have to do it myself, Dr. Carter.” 

If you thought his face was red before…

“I-um-I was just waited-oh, uh, I-” He couldn't remember the last time he was this much at a loss for words. “That would be-” John forced himself to swallow and take a breath so he could attempt to stop looking like a total idiot. “Do you want to get drinks sometime?” 

You glanced around you at the various bottles and liquor you were surrounded by every day. 

“Maybe dinner?” You suggested. 

“Right. Yes. Dinner. Of course. Dinner.” He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up again. You waited. He stared. You waited some more, smile creeping wider and wider across your face while you waited for him to get it. “Oh. Yes. Do you want to get dinner? With me? Tomorrow night?”

You leaned across the bar and kissed his cheek. “I’d love to.” 

That grin of his lit up and it felt like the whole dark bar brightened with it. 

“Great! I can, uh, I can pick you up at 8? There’s a place close to mine, it’s not the fanciest, but it has some really good chicken parm and-”

“You’ve already sold me on it, doctor. Leave some to be a surprise,” you teased. You flashed him one last wink and started back towards Megan at the other end of the bar to finish closing up for the night. 

She glanced at you over her shoulder and you caught a knowing look in her eyes. “I take it we’re going to be seeing even more of him then?”

You wiped down a spot you’d already cleaned and watched the young, handsome doctor watching you. 

“Yeah,” you said, blush tinging your smile. “I hope so.” 

[sundragon]

That post about "you can't be a therian if you're under 14" is obviously silly, I'm not gonna give them any more attention because they seem like the types who just want that.

The biggest flaw here is that the journey is the point. I wouldn't be who I am today if it wasn't for all the exploration my younger self did. I got a lot of things wrong about my identity when I was a kid... and I got a lot wrong when I was in my 20s. You don't suddenly become wise once you hit a certain age, that's not how this works. I know it's unpopular to mention the prefrontal cortex anymore but like it or not, it plays a large part in how you regulate internally, and even THAT is not some magical key to knowing thyself or whatever. I've met 15 year olds who are a hell of a lot more grown than I was at their age.

You can't just write off someone's experiences prior to a certain age. Everything up to that point matters, even if they move away from those conclusions later.

I'm almost certain that I wouldn't experience my lionhood the way I do if it wasn't something that developed when I was a child. It was that exact combination of factors in that developmental period that resulted in me being a grown man who is also Simba, lol. Maybe I'd just be a lion in a different way if that hadn't happened, but that's not the point. I was a therianthrope when I was 10, before I ever saw that word, and I'm a therianthrope now. And there are therians as we speak who are younger than that, and 14, and 18, and 48+, and they're all still figuring themselves out because it never stops.

That's the second point, equally important. It never stops. If one day as an adult you decide you have it all figured out and have nothing more to do because you passed some milestone in your mind, you've lost the game. Woe, paradigm shifts be upon ye, because it'll happen when you least expect it. That's just how it is.

[inheartofwinter]

Any fics nerdy/smart/draco where his Slytherin side is explored? Would also love some fics where magic theory is explored with H/D as paring.

Tyyyyyyyyyy🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

You don't know how happy I felt when I saw this request. I had writen that everyone could sen dme request for fic recs but I hadn't expected anyone to do so at all (I mean, I'm nobody, and I'm not even very active =v=' ) So, thank you for trusting my taste!!

For your request, these are some fics I think that you may like:

- A First Look Into Resurrecting Mummies With the Aid Of the Chosen One, and Why It Should Be Advised Against (an Essay by Draco Malfoy, Assistant Archaeologist) @cibeewastaken (M;21,9k)

Draco hopes to find an ancient spell book rumoured to be in Hamunaptra after Astoria found a map to the lost city. If he makes this discovery, maybe the Magical British Museum will finally look at his application, and his annoying colleague will finally leave him alone.

It’s a good plan, until Draco is reunited with Harry Potter for the first time in ten years, as the man is about to be hanged.

- Barriers Both, Flesh and Storm by @thegertie (E;55,8k)

An educational experiment turns disastrous.

- Draco Malfoy and the Heart of Slytherin by sabershadowkat (T;34,9k)

At the heart of every Slytherin.

- Dwelling by aideomai (T;83k)

Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better.

- Every New Beginning by @fencer-x (E;140,8k)

“You curl your lip and wrinkle your nose and sneer and call me Saviour, yet you only seek my help at the eleventh hour. That’s what’s fucked up, Malfoy.” || Draco Malfoy is dead, and Harry is absolutely totally fine with that.

- Everything is Relative to You by @thehoneybeet (E; 43,1k)

Potter was supposed to have lived. Draco is certain of this. That Potter would no longer walk the earth was tantamount to the sun moving west to east across the sky. If only he could have stopped this from happening, if he’d have known…

It comes to him as ideas often did: too late.

Or, Harry dreams of his past lives, and Draco is in every one.

- tinder, flicker, flash by @americanmoths (M;80,3k)

Molly Weasley takes Draco in after Narcissa, wanted for many murders and schemes, abandons him in the forbidden forest. This is a Drarry story, so obvs your fav schoolyard enemies fall in love, but first Draco has to learn to love his adopted family.

ft. magical Zoom calls, gay solidarity, a prank war, a real war and George Weasley’s unsubstantiated belief in his own psychic abilities.

a story where nobody makes any good decisions, yet everything turns out ok.

- Heal Thyself by @astolat (T;46,9k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.”

“What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

“Oh, I thought you might,” she said. “Well, goodbye.” And off she wandered again in her addled way.

- Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu (E;75,3k)

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

- Because Potter Is Allergic to Poppies by Lomonaaeren (M;41,1k)

Auror Harry Potter is in hospital being treated for a curse when someone tries to kill him. Obviously it is up to bored, trapped Apprentice Healer Draco, who was only admitted to the Healer Program in the first place to do the menial work, to find out who did it. Because then they will promote him. No, it’s for no other reason, thanks.

- By the Grace by @letteredlettered (T;140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

- i demand to dig my own grave by @bonesliketambourines (M;20,8k)

Draco finds himself in hot water with the Aurors, and in a burst of panicked inspiration manages to wiggle out of it by claiming to be a Seer. There's just one little problem– Senior Auror Harry Potter, the Prat Who Lived, who's known him for a decade, knows full well Draco doesn't have a single psychic bone in his body and seems determined to pull him up for it. Now, the Department is demanding he help them solve cases, Potter's looming over his shoulder at every turn, and worst of all, he hasn't had a shag in weeks because of all this bother. What's a pseudo-Seer to do?

- A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing by mahaliem (R;38k)

Draco hits his head and wakes up in a world where he's a Gryffindor and Harry is a Slytherin

(a fun fic which I'm not sure if it fits your requests, but Draco's "Slytherin-ness" is explored in a rather unusual and hilarious way in this fic.)

Have fun reading and don't forget to send the authors love!

[phntxm]

} (newby) demon muzan, soft muzan?, arranged marriage, fiancée! reader, fem! reader, mention of bl00d, reader's face got cut

let's pretend that blo0d transfusion exists in haien period a/n; usually, I stick to writing headcanons and avoid posting scenarios because I worry it might not be good enough. however, I've chosen to take a chance this time so if there are any mistakes, please bear with me y-y wc : 1.2k

you never imagined that one day you would willingly sacrifice yourself to aid your sick fiancé, who barely acknowledged you

he was unkind. neither of you had agreed to this arranged marriage; it was solely the decision of his family, the Ubuyashiki clan, who couldn't bear the thought of their ailing son dying alone

at first, the situation was difficult, Muzan be believed having a wife wouldn't extend his life or be of any use. you tried your best, simply aiming to fulfill the marriage contract, we don't have to be in love

the arrangement benefited both clans. the Ubuyashiki clan could lessen their appearance of pity by providing a wife for their son, while your family could regain their lost wealth and noble status during their down in luck

and at the turning point, when he was injured and lost a lot amount of blood. neither his family nor yours offered to help him, they were afraid to give blood to someone like him. they're just hired a cheap doctor to care for him, you were the only one willing to give him your blood without hesitation

after that, he was more open to you

until the day the doctor's medicine was effective

but without knowing it, you were only happy for your fiancé to become healthy like normal people. you heard a nonsensical rumor about a demon attacking people at night, it must be a bear or wild animals..

" I am greatly rejoiced for thee, that thy health hath now become better " you said it as you started to sit beside him on the warmed tatami mat, gazing out at the garden beyond

" the physic hath wrought an unexpected efficacy upon me " he nodded in agreement, raising his arm and gently squeezing it to show the increased muscle and strength he now possessed

" I heard he was a thrifty physician, deemed unfit, yet he proved skilled to mend thee, I do delight exceedingly " as you mentioned this, making Muzan to reconsider his first encounter with the doctor. he couldn't believe he would successfully be healed, as the doctor was merely a cheap physician hired by his clan

" in speaking thereof, thou dost prove thyself useful to me " he turned his face towards you and smiled gently, a smile that could barely be called a smile

" I do greatly admire thy bravery " he said, his smile filled with pride and happiness, yet tinged with a sadistic undertone that sent shivers down your spine

his words left you stunned; you never expected a compliment from someone like him " my pleasure " you said as you bowed to him, It really makes you feel happy, yet it seems like god isn't kind to either of you

" yet unfortunately, I hope that one day thou and I may stroll together, now it is unwise to go abroad by night " you express how shameful it was for the chance of having a normal life with him to be interrupted by some kind of creature " folk do speak of a demon, that doth hunt people by night " you know he doesn't believe in anything silly like this, so the reaction he gave you afterward was not surprising

" demon.. tis the name by which they are called? " he chuckles softly, of course he would do that, you think, he's the man who- " art thou fearful of demons" his question caught you off guard. he doesn't mean it, does he?

sometimes he asks you strange questions, given that he has spent his entire life trapped in his own house. questions about the outside world grab his attention the most, so you didn't mind it, but that doesn't mean he would believe in such a fairy tale like this. you remain silent, not because you're trying to avoid his question, but as his voice shifts, growing more serious " in the night doth stalk a creature, feeding on flesh of men.. art thou afraid? " he looks at you, and you sense he already has an answer in mind. if you answer wrongly, you fear something bad might happen

" I do not believe in demons, tis but a wild beast " you answered while trying to hide the fear you felt, his question has indeed made the atmosphere awkward, you think

Muzan tilts his head slightly " is it so? what if... what if I be that demon? wouldst thou be afraid? " he seems to enjoy seeing you like that

" what do you mean? "

" thou hast heard my words. wouldst thou abandon me if I were that demon? even there is no chance of fleeing from me "

what on earth is he talking about? " I... " your words evoke a sense of fear and confusion, as he reaches his hand to gently touch your cheeks, his actions were so contrasting to what you felt; he touched you as if it were something fragile, yet not with the intention to protect, but to possess it, to do whatever he pleased with it

" what a pity. I do hold thee dear, and thou wilt surely prove useful unto me " you startled slightly; his hand felt so cold, almost as if he weren't human

" hast thou any final words? " you trembled, hearts beating fast, unsure if it was pure fear or excitement. you didn't feel the urge to run away; it was the same mix of emotions you felt when you first volunteered to give him your blood, the joy of helping someone you love, intertwined with the fear that death might be near, and you might not make it out alive " thou didst inquire if I fear demons? do I dread death? I would say, tis not that I lack fear, but the very thought of aiding thee doth making me to endure it " you're contemplating your feelings, realizing there's no right answer for him. in that moment, you didn't strategize on how to answer so he would spare your life, instead, you acted on what your heart felt, just being honest, something you wouldn't regret later— though there might be no 'later,' because you're going to die right here at his hands " I once gave thee my blood, I do not fear to give thee my blood again, it gladdens my heart that I may lend thee aid once more " you close your eyes, gently touching his hand on your cheek, cherishing this fleeting moment of happiness for the last time " take it all as thou dost desire " you said, as you turned to place a soft kiss on his palm, that even if he's not used to or doesn't like being touched, what's the worst that could happen? he's gonna kill me? then- well..

Muzan paused, stunned by your response. then, a sadistic smile slowly spread across his face once more, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity. as he began to grow out his sharp, menacing nails, pressed them firmly against your cheek, and sliced your cheeks until they were red and bleeding " it would be discourteous of me to not return what I have received, I shall give thee my blood also " it was a gift from the demon king, leaving you unsure whether it should be seen as a blessing or a curse. nevertheless, if this is what god desires, then so be it

[jomiddlemarch]

A handkerchief of her own sewing

Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.-- Emerson

Year One

Anne hemmed a dozen handkerchiefs with her monogram and hand-tatted the lace to edge each square. She ruined the first one weeping, burned it instead of letters, as she had none from him.

Lady Russell did not comment on the fact that her dozen was short. She insisted Anne buy a new bonnet, one trimmed with pink ribbon.

Year Two

Anne hemmed a handkerchief while Elizabeth complained about the number of Naval officers at Lady Vincent’s ball. Anne counted stitches instead of Elizabeth’s complaints, knowing her sister would exceed the capacity of her thread.

Year Three

Anne embroidered the handkerchief for Mary to carry to her wedding. Charles had waited six months before proposing, long enough for a respectable courtship. He’d found Anne alone once and said You’re certain, Nan, it isn’t too late, but she’d known she wasn’t ruining anyone life when she said no.

Year Four

Anne kept an extra handkerchief in her reticule when she visited Uppercross. Mary fretted that there were draughts in every room and the fires all smoked, Cook used too much pepper and the yellow paper in the sitting room would make a blind man’s eyes water. 

Mrs. Musgrove patted Mary’s hand and smiled at Anne. They had all expected Mary’s first confinement to be a bit difficult.

Year Five

Anne sewed handkerchiefs for the housekeeper Mrs. Cadell to distribute to all the staff. It was a bad year for the grippe. Her father instructed her to economize and then ordered a case of the best Madeira.

Her own handkerchiefs had ceased to be used for tears.

Year Six

Anne gave her nephew Charles his first handkerchief, his name spelled out in bright red silk. He wore it as a hat more often than attending to his nose. Mary lay on a chaise with a handkerchief soaked in cologne laid across her eyes, vowing that she had never felt so ill in her life and insisting Anne hand her another comfit.

Francis Musgrove weighed ten pounds when he was born.

Year Seven

For her birthday, the vicar gave her a silver thimble in appreciation for all the girls she’d taught and all the handkerchiefs and shirts she’d sewn for the poor. When Anne put it on, she saw her hands had begun to look old.

She took the thimble off and touched the base of her finger where Frederick had promised to put a rose-cut diamond as bright as her eyes.

Year Eight

Captain Wentworth offered a handkerchief to Henrietta Musgrove after her sister’s injury. Anne saw the faded monogram in the corner, pale blue after many launderings, remembered how solemn he’d been when he’d asked her to give him a token of her esteem, how he’d grinned when she’d handed it to him, as carefully folded as a flag.

Anne swallowed her tears.

Year Nine

Anne hemmed a dozen handkerchiefs with her monogram and hand-tatted the lace to edge each square. From the bow of the ship, she waved the delicate article, the sails billowing behind her. Frederick’s hand was warm at her waist and he murmured I’ve got you, madam, make no mistake.

The tears in Anne’s eyes she blinked away.

Written and posted (a day late, hopefully not a dollar short!) for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month for prompt: handkerchief

[traumacatholic]

If I may request a prayer, I keep encountering queerphobic bigotry online as I try to genuinely explore my faith in Christ. It hurts and feels so discouraging.

Of course! I'm so sorry that you've experienced this. I definitely do know a lot of online spaces can be very hostile and toxic. For what it's worth, I have generally found that offline spaces are a lot more welcoming. People seem to be a lot friendlier, and it's unfortunately such a contrast with how online spaces can be - especially when people feel that their identity is hidden and that they're untouchable.

Here is a prayer that is typically said while looking upon the Theotokos the Softener of Evil Hearts Icon:

Soften our evil hearts, O Theotokos, and quench the attacks of those who hate us and loose all the rigidity of our soul. For looking on thy holy image we are filled with compunction by thy suffering and loving-kindness for us, and we kiss thy wounds; we are filled with horror for the darts with which we wound thee. Let us not, O Mother of Compassion, because of the cruelty of our hearts, perish from the cruelty of heart of those near us. For thou art in truth the softener of evil hearts.

Here is a prayer for our enemies:

Lord Jesus Christ, Who didst command us to love our enemies, and those who defame and injure us, and to pray for them and forgive them; Who Thyself didst pray for Thine enemies who crucified Thee: Grant us, we pray, the spirit of Christian reconciliation and meekness, that we may heartily forgive every injury and be reconciled with our enemies. Grant us to overcome the malevolence and offences of people with Christian meekness and true love of our neighbor. We further beseech Thee, O Lord, to grant to our enemies true peace and forgiveness of sins; do not allow them to leave this life without true faith and sincere conversion. And help us repay evil with goodness, and to remain safe from the temptations of the devil and from all the perils which threaten us, in the form of visible and invisible enemies. Amen.

And here is a prayer for protection:

O Lord, our God, pre-existing before all ages and remaining forever; who are as great in compassion as you are in uncontainable power; who because of your ineffable mercy bowed the heavens, came down on earth and became man for the salvation of sinners; who put on and immortalized our nature and ascended with it to the place from which you descended; hear from heaven and become merciful to all those who cry out to you with a broken heart. You, O Master of all, lend you ear and hear us. We know your undefeatable love for your creation and your inexhaustible goodness. Hence, we throw ourselves into the ocean of your compassions and entreat you: turn not your face from us nor cast us away from your countenance neither hand us over to those who are so furiously attacking us. Look upon us with your compassionate eye. Show us how to rise above both the visible and invisible enemies. Place in us a power from on high; encompass us with your almighty right hand; keep us under the protection of your wings; fortify us with love for one another and grant us unshakable peace. But before all and above all, instill in us your fear and your love that your holy name may also be glorified in us. Upon you alone we look, on you alone we have placed our hopes, and to you we send up the glory, together with your Father, who is without beginning, and the life-creating Spirit, now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

And here is another prayer you might find comforting:

Almighty God, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, come to my help and deliver me from this difficulty that besets me. I believe Lord, that all trials of life are under Your care and that all things work for the good of those who love You. Take away from me fear, anxiety and distress. Help me to face and endure my difficulty with faith, courage and wisdom. Grant that this trial may bring me closer to You for You are my rock and refuge, my comfort and hope, my delight and joy. I trust in Your love and compassion. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

[mynzah]

Oneness...Self Realization...Know Thyself...

I salute the light within your eyes where the whole universe dwells. For when you are at that center within you and I am at that place within me, we shall be One… ~ Crazy Horse (’His-Horse-Is-Crazy’ 1840 – 1877, Lakota Holy Man) http://www.mynzahosiris.wordpress.com

[reversedpineapple]

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── 𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕖: 𝔻𝕣. ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠 ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Here to spread my Dr. Ratio propaganda. (≖⩊≖) This is beta read but I also wrote and looked over this in the middle of the night.

∘•·····•∘ Yan! Dr. Ratio x Nameless! Reader ∘•·····•∘

(Reader is not Trailblazer)

TWs: Stalking, obsessive behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulation, delusional behaviour

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated. :D

ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ Word count: 1.4k ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬

By continuing to read beyond this point, you have agreed to the trigger warnings and to be at least of the age of 18. The author does not hold any responsibility whatsoever for your actions.

This man is a menace and you don’t even know about it most of the time.

Since you are a Nameless, he can’t just do with you whatever he wants. Your name is far too well known in the universe for his actions to not have unnecessary repercussions.

To his luck (and your demise) are the adventures of the Trailblaze highly sought after, the media reporting on what your group had been up to if there is even a hint of action from you. So imagine the surprise of Veritas colleagues when they see him listening to a gossip channel on the radio. One time, another professor approached him just to catch the esteemed Doctor Ratio reading an article of a boulevard magazine. There was no reason at all why he was even more adamant to wear that plaster head for the rest of the day (if that was even possible). No reason at all!

Everything you do, even if you are on the other side of the universe, is catalogued by the Doctor, a carefully cultivated timeline decorating his bedroom walls. In that regard, he is a complete hypocrite. Veritas claims that the first necessity to overcome idiocy is to know thyself, yet he doesn’t even realise his own unhealthy behavior. To him, this is no different than someone painting their wall in a colour. His favorite just happens to be you. And he is so careful with it too. Don’t even dare to imagine hurriedly scribbled notes with a pencil, by the Archons, no. He paints the whole thing carefully like how an artist would paint their muse with acrylic paint.

Veritas has a plaster head of you. Of course he has, what did you expect? But he does not dare to wear it. Instead, it’s presented in a glass case and to ensure it does not feel lonely he also has a perfect marble replica of you. Veritas also has the nasty little habit of talking to them like you were actually standing in the room, telling it about a certain student not doing as well as they could if they would only focus.

This man knows your likes and dislikes in and out. How? Remember him reading magazines and listening to entertainment he would deem as waste if they were not reporting about the latest gossip about you? Yes, that. He rewatches even the smallest snippets he sees about you in visible media. There was that one time you tried a dish on the Xianzhou and despite you smiling, he could tell by subtle body language you were lying. By the way, that clip was three seconds long.

If he meets you in person though? He behaves totally normal. Well, as normal as the Doctor Ratio usually behaves. However, he talks slightly less down on you than he does to others. Don’t misunderstand him though, he still sees himself as the superior one between the two of you. His behaviour stems less from a position of equality and more like how a human views a small kitten. Don’t get him wrong, he thinks you are unlike most not stupid, dare I say he respects you even a little bit but in the end, his view on humans is a spectrum. On one side, there are idiots who he oh so desperately tries to educate and on the other, there are geniuses (which are in his opinion sadly way too rare). You sit right in the middle between the two of them.

Congratulations, most don’t even come close to the halfway point of the middle.

The plaster head is glued on in your presence. Reason for that is the heat blooming across his face. Ratio is your most avid fan, your most loyal cheerleader. To him, you are someone with great potential. Veritas also has hope in his students but what he feels for you isn’t just hope, he knows you have the making of someone of true intellect and he would be damned if he were to not attentively take note of that.

If you want to see the good doctor flustered, do small acts of services. Prepare him a dinner, ask him how his day was, arrange his clothing back into place should they ever fall out of place. Veritas is often seen as someone untouchable, a perfect cold statue so the human part of him gets often forgotten. This does not bother him one bit but you acting like this strokes some part of him that would make him, if he had less self control, squeal like a schoolgirl and roll on the ground… metaphorically speaking.

Should you ever express romantic interest in him though… oh boy. The plaster head would still stay for a while. Ratio needs to practice. Like an athlete prepares themselves for a tournament day after day, he himself prepares himself for your affection. If he is sure he won’t turn into a solanum lycopersicum, he will start to remove it more often around you. No, Veritas Ratio isn’t all suave and cool headed like he presents himself, he is just way too prepared for everything in this relationship. If he messes up, it’s on purpose. You dislike that? Then he will do this better the next time. Of course he knew that beforehand but everyone would get suspicious if their relationship was nothing but smooth sailing.

On those rare occasions you stay over, he will prepare. The plaster head and statue will be moved to his bedroom. The man is most likely rich enough to own a place with a guest bedroom he will present as his own. Ratio understands very well that you seeing this would be the end of your relationship, especially if you are still in the earlier stages. Like already mentioned, he does not see how toxic his behavior is because he thinks that everything he feels and thinks about himself is undeniably true. It usually is and because he is wrong in this one instance, he is unable to see the problem with his actions. He is, in simpler terms, acting like someone who says their opinion on something but deep down disagrees with it without realising that.

If you are in a relationship and currently traveling, he will miss you and he will catch himself spacing out from time to time. Such a thing was unthinkable for him before all of this. Veritas is not against that, though. He understands that humans have such reactions to emotions and suppressing those would lead to negative consequences. He does try to keep it under control whilst being in public though. On the other hand, one thing he is ashamed about is the shirt he stole from you. It’s not a smell thing, he would never let used, dirty laundry get close to him but rather a thing of possession. It just hangs neatly in his dresser, waiting for the owner to return. The best assumption he can make about his own actions is, that he just likes to have something materialistic from you. He also has a lock of your hair hidden somewhere on his person. Where though is a mystery only he knows the answer to.

Somewhere along the relationship he has gifted you a headpiece like his own. In his eyes it’s a lot less glaringly obvious than a ring. You don’t have the heart to tell him that it is indeed a lot more obvious so you just wear it happily. What you don’t know though is that every time your partner sees you wearing it, whether that be on a photo or a video, there is a part of himself satisfied that he has laid claim to you. If you let him do as he wants, you might as well soon look like you are from Amphoreus and believe me when I tell you, you do not want that.

If you don’t draw clear lines, Ratio will make you emotionally dependent on him. He knows how humans work, he knows how to manipulate you just right so you still have your dazzling personality, yet can’t go on without him for too long. The good news is, your partner is a patient man. You can drag this on for a very long time. The bad news, it is not a question if but rather when this happens. When you finally learn about all the unsavoury things Veritas does, it is already way too late. By then you are dependent on him and nevermind the questions. Ratio also is a well known person so should you even think about distancing yourself, you will have to answer to a horde of reporters and I don’t think I need to tell you about how intense they can get when they think they got a scoop.

Do not copy, translate or use my work without my permission. All rights belong to the author.