#also the birth control is what caused those chest pains (among other things)

[brassandblue]

Seeing the doctor tomorrow about potential surgery to get this benign t*mor out of me. Please send good vibes that things go smoothly and with as little bullshit as possible.

I feel like it’s sucking the life out of me and it’s begun to hurt nonstop so I’m ready to get this done with.

[phykios]

the marble king, part 10 [read on ao3]

His wife had taken ill, a statement that was simultaneously the best and worst one Percy had ever thought up in his short, eventful life. It was the best, because of the simple fact that Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter was his wife. At night they shared a bed, and during the day they shared each other’s company. Though she did not love him, and had only married him in a bid to, rather ironically, retain her freedom, she wished for him to stay at her side, and he was blessed with her presence in turn.

Yet it was also the worst, because Annabeth, the love of his life, had taken ill.

He worried for her constantly; her pain was his pain, and the thought of something happening to her was simply unthinkable. Consumed with anxiety, he did what he always had done since they had been children, and he was overwhelmed by the magnitude of his own feelings. When he found her throwing up over the side of the boat for the fourth morning in a row, he swallowed his fears, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“The sea never used to affect you this strongly.” Percy teased, even as he rubbed at her back. “What would all the other shieldmaidens say if they could see you now?”

She only groaned in response. He offered his handkerchief as she made to whip her mouth on her cloak. Once she was cleaned, she exhaled, leaning against him.

“And to think, your father told me your family was descended from an Aesir sea god,” Percy continued, offering his own sea strength to steady her.

“Vanir,” Annabeth said. “We are descended from a Vanir god, who in turn was descended from a sea god.” Percy only had the vaguest idea of what that meant, based on Alejandra’s stories, but he so loved to hear her correcting him once more, even when she was feeling poorly, for it meant she was still herself.

“Regardless, the sea flows through your veins, Anja,” he jested, tone light. Many of these northern words felt odd in his mouth, but he loved to speak her given name. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“That neither Frey nor Njord were gods of motherhood,” she moaned.

His thoughts stuttering, he frowned at her for several long seconds. “Motherhood? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything, phykios.” She groaned, her head resting on his shoulder, and her hand going to her stomach.

Like fog dissolving in the morning sun, the meaning came to him, quickly and suddenly. But surely it could not be so; they’d only laid together once.

Gently, terrifyingly, he placed his hand on top of hers, over her belly. He could not sense a difference through her clothes. “You are pregnant?” Percy whispered. He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

“Yes.”

Percy felt tears prick his eyes. Were he less in control of his feelings, he would have taken her by the hand, lifted her up, and spun her around in elation. “You are with child?”

“I am,” she confirmed. Pulling back from him a bit, she looked at him, eyes keen and discerning. “Do you mind?” Her words were mild, yet in her tone, he could sense just the barest hint of trepidation, of fear of disapproval.

“Mind!” He laughed, a few of his tears escaping. “Of course not!”

Energy surging through his limbs, he nearly stood up and began to dance. Annabeth, his wife, his truest companion from his earliest days, pregnant with his child! They were to have a family together! How could he not be so elated, when this was every dream of his come true?

But then, he then realized, while children had been his most secret desire, it had not, necessarily, been hers. It had not even been the point of their marriage. Annabeth had married him for freedom from; to be trapped in motherhood, tied down with a child, may have been the very thing she hoped to avoid. “Are,” he swallowed, suddenly afraid, “are you very displeased?”

“Displeased? I…” She held his gaze for a long moment, looking on him with wide, uncertain eyes, and then shook her head. “No. As long as you are not unhappy, then neither am I.”

“I am happy,” he said quickly. “I am very, very happy. Ever since dear, sweet Esther was born, I always imagined myself to be a father one day. I simply thought it would be impossible.” Demigod lives, particularly those of his more immediate, more powerful peers, were short and bright and violent--to say nothing of his financial situation. As well, there was that fact that he had had a difficult time dreaming of children who had not been mothered by Annabeth.

“So you are not upset,” she asked again, seeking confirmation.

“I am most certainly not upset,” he promised her.

He was ecstatic. His whole self felt lighter, happier, better than it had in years, and not just since the fall of their city, but several years before that, at least. Annabeth, his wife, his great love, building a family with him… it had been a dream far too fragile to speak of. And now it had come true.

Her unsure expression, however, caused him to temper his outward reflection. Just as he opened his mouth to question if she required anything, she once again leaned over the edge of the boat, and vomited into the sea below.

“There, there,” he said, rubbing at her back, making sure to keep her cloak and dress, billowing in the wind, out of the way so it would not get dirty. “Come, sit.” he said, after she had caught her breath, submitting to his guiding her to a bench. “Can I get you anything?”

She waved off his offer, eyes closed against the salt spray. “These are normal parts of pregnancy, I am given to understand. When I spoke with the cook at my cousin’s house, her warnings made me fear it would be worse than it has been.”

His jaw dropped. “You knew before we left your family?”

She glanced at him, a little scathing. “A woman knows these things, Percy.”

Of that, he had no doubt--but that was not the issue here. “It cannot be safe for you to travel like this.” His earlier fear gripped him, curling cold fingers around his heart. He looked out at the sea around them, the breadth of his father’s domain now transformed into a dark, terrible labyrinth, where dangers lurked about every corner. “You should not have left your cousin’s house.”

“You were going to leave me there,” she accused.

“No, I--” he began to argue, before cutting himself off. She was correct, of course, though not for the reasons she assumed, and sadly, there was no good manner in which he could explain why, not without divulging all the secrets of his heart, and causing her more discomfort. “I wanted--I want you to have as happy and comfortable and challenging a life as possible. I had thought you would find that among your family and the politics of the Kalmar Union, but, I swear, if you had told me of the baby, I would have chosen differently.”

Happily he would have tolerated the strange food and horrid climates of Svealand forever for her sake, for his family’s sake. He thought once again of the parade of little girls dressed as Saint Lucy, then imagined his own daughter, with Annabeth’s blonde curls and grey eyes, joining it. His heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“We are not so far from your family, and a long way off from Italy,” he said. It would be a simple enough task for him--he did not even have to inform the captain. “We can still turn back, so you might have your confinement and give birth in all comfort.” Her father and Magnus would want nothing more than to take care of her in her condition, and she would far more likely welcome their concern than his.

“We are going to Italy,” she said, mouth set.

“But if you are unwell--”

“I am fine,” she snapped. “We are going to Italy, and there we shall have our child. Does that thought upset you?”

So caught off guard by her tone, he almost missed the most delightful and pleasing combination of words to ever exist: our child . His and Annabeth’s child. The most precious gift he had ever received, the dream of a lifetime.

“It does not,” he said, though he could not entirely quiet his internal concern. “If it is what you wish-- what you truly wish--then we shall continue on to Venice.”

They held each other’s gazes for a moment longer, imparting such thoughts and feelings as neither of them could understand. Then she smiled, beautiful, yet somehow sad. “Surely,” she said, ���you wish to raise your child on the shores of your father’s sea.”

She knew him far too well, for he could not deny the appeal.

Then, all of a sudden, he was gripped by an overwhelming fear: Annabeth was with child . Even the most formidable fighter could only do so much while burdened with carrying another life. He remembered how his mother, heavy with little Esther, struggled to walk to and from the local market. What if they should come across another band of cruel bandits? What if she should hurt herself on the road to Italy, or if Percy should find himself injured or ill, unable to help her or protect her?

Seemingly from nowhere, a small bundle of white fur appeared at their feet, and the little cat jumped up beside them, giving a perfunctory sniff to the fabric of Annabeth’s dress before climbing on top of her, pressing her paws back and forth on her thigh the way Percy’s mother used to prepare her bread. Satisfied, then, she walked in a circle before settling down for her midmorning nap, tucking her paws beneath her body.

Admittedly, Percy had been somewhat skeptical of the cat, which Annabeth had taken to calling “Freya.” He liked animals, cats as well as dogs equally, and cats did seem to take a special liking to him. He remembered fondly the many cats of Constantinople following him after a hard day’s work, looking up with expectant eyes as they sweetly begged for part of his daily catch, then absconded with his discards into the dark city alleyways. So while he did not mind Freya’s presence, she seemed to distinctly prefer his wife, sticking to Annabeth’s side like a burr on cloth, laying ownership to her lap, sometimes hissing at strange people who got too close.

Percy could sympathize, on several points.

From Danzig, then, he decided, they would set out on the Via Imperii . Were it yet summer, perhaps they could have sailed the whole way to Venice, but he feared the might of spring storms, and would not risk her life, nor their child’s, for something as intangible as expediency. He remembered well, too, how their voyage upriver had sapped him of his strength until he had been unable to do naught but sleep; to exert himself to exhaustion on the open sea, miles away from any shore or safe harbor, could prove even more disastrous.

Immediately, Annabeth’s hands descended on the cat, scratching the underside of her chin with one while the other stroked the length of her back, and Freya purred, loud enough Percy could hear it even over the crashing waves, blinking her eyes sleepily back up at her. His wife smiled, quite taken with their furry companion.

There was so much more at stake now, he realized. Not just his own health, nor hers, but the health and safety of the life they had made together. In his heart, he swore on a river whose name had once struck fear into the hearts of men and gods alike, he would work every day to prove himself worthy of this woman who made such sacrifices for his sake.

Aloud, he merely said, “Thank you.” Two words which could not encompass all the gratitude he held for her. Were he able to pay her back its weight in gold, she would be the richest woman in the world.

Annabeth cast him a fond, if tired, look, her countenance still vaguely green. “Do not thank me yet,” she said. “I am told that it gets much, much worse.”

“I look forward to it,” Percy replied, turning his face into the sun.

***

He had hoped that Annabeth’s sickness would lessen once they returned to dry land. But after three days traveling through Pomerania , she was still sick in the mornings.

“Your child preferred the sea, methinks.” Annabeth said as Percy passed her water. She smiled her thanks and drank deeply. “But it could be much worse, I suppose. I’ve heard it said that many people feel the sickness all day, for weeks. Mine is, at the very least, limited to the earliest morning hours--and you have been most accommodating.”

With their not inconsiderable fortune, Percy had managed to procure for them a cart and a horse, so that they could keep up a lively pace while allowing Annabeth to rest as much as she required. “I have not been accommodating,” Percy protested. “You are with child.” My child , he did not say, but thought it, giddily. “It is the very least that I could do.”

“Well, regardless,” she said, “it is very appreciated.” Then she groaned, dropping her head forward.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out a hand to steady her.

“Have we any more food? I am ravenous.”

They did, because Percy wished to spare no expense on his wife and hopeful daughter. And besides, it was Annabeth’s money, they should spend as much on her comfort as needed. They’d left the inn early in the morning, but he had gotten them some bread and hard cheese before they had begun the journey. “Here, have the rest,” he said, handing them to her.

But she pushed the parcel away. “No, no, have we anything else?”

He did not, but he would not let himself fall into a panic. “When we arrive in Stettin ,” he promised, “I shall purchase whatever it is you desire. Tell me, if there were anything in the world that you could have, what would it be?”

Whatever she needed, he would do his best to provide: that was the vow he had taken, and this was merely his first challenge.

Thoughtful, she looked towards the clouds, her lip between her teeth.

“...Olives,” she said. “I would be very happy for some olives.”

Percy laughed. Of course. Athena’s proclivity for the fruit was renowned. “Then olives it is, my lady.”

It was a simple enough task, on the surface, to procure some olives for his pregnant wife. As a child living on the shores of the great Roman lake, olives had been plentiful and ubiquitous; at the agoge , the children of Demeter and Athena had cultivated a small grove of olive trees, partially for their own use, but also to sell at market. Though there had been neither olives nor olive oil in Svealand, as it was far too expensive to import from so far South, Percy assumed that he would be able to locate some here on the continent. Stettin was the Northernmost city on the Via Imperii , and surely some of the stuff must have wound its way through the lands controlled by the Legion.

Day after day, town after town, any time they passed through a settlement, they stopped at market so that Annabeth could rest, and Percy could scour the stalls and alleys for olives--and day after day, town after town, he found none. Not a single hamlet between Danzig and Stettin carried the malakes fruit. Every day he would return to his wife empty handed, and every day she would smile at him, her eyes shining, and thanked him for trying.

Her cravings continued. He could sense it, the way he could sense a storm, her mood souring as the days dragged on.

They stayed an extra night in Stettin to let the horses rest. It was a Monday, the start of a fresh, new week, the day the merchants and farmers brought in their weekly produce. Surely, Percy thought, perhaps foolishly, surely a market of such a large city would have even a small bottle of olive oil? What civilized city did not have a healthy supply of the stuff? Rome had once spanned nearly the entire continent; the well worn roads were proof of it. Surely, they had left some sort of culinary mark.

Apparently, he was a fool. The only oil to be found was made from pumpkin seeds--a favorite of some of the members of the Legion. He knew it to be bland, tasteless, and not at all fit for his wife. As for the olives, the merchants all looked at him as though he had grown a second head, those who understood a little Italian anyway, for those who could not merely stared at him as he fumbled his way through the few Frankish words which he knew.

He felt oddly numb, returning to their accommodations empty-handed. Would she be disappointed? Would she regret leaving the comfort and security of Svealand, where all her needs had been provided for?

Yet she had merely shrugged, brushing her hair with the comb that she had pilfered from Alejandra. “It is no great hardship,” she said, a little distantly, as all her attention was focused on the task in her hands. “I shall survive without it.”

On their bed, Freya the cat yawned, very sweetly, before readjusting her position, standing up and walking in a circle, then settling down and returning to her slumber.

“Still,” said Percy, “I recall the many trials and tribulations which my mother endured before she had borne my sister; if there is something which I can do to ease your burden at all, I should very much like to do so.”

Sighing sharply through her nose, Percy tensed, fearful that she would refuse him outright out of pride, only for him to relax as she merely tugged her comb through a particularly stubborn knot of hair. His fingers twitched in the folds of his clothes, his very nerve endings alight with the mere thought of feeling the soft, golden strands for themselves. He felt, somewhat worryingly, as though he had begun to develop a minor obsession with the feeling of her hair, every time it brushed up against his skin as she moved against him on the cart, or rolled over towards him in their shared bed. To watch her daily ritual, an act so tired and uneventful to her, yet one so captivating to him, with such eagerness and attention would have seemed, on any other man, to be the mark of ill-temperament and evil tidings. Percy, however, was able to content himself with merely looking.

“In truth,” she said, “it is not the olives themselves which I crave, though there is not much I would not do for such a treasure. Just as your child preferred the sea, I can only assume that my current propensity for salt is your doing as well.”

“Salt?”

“Salt,” she confirmed. “Any salty food will do, I think.”

“Salt,” he repeated, suddenly thoughtful. Salty foods were certainly in great supply here in the North; now a whole new world had been opened to him. Then--”You believe that I am the cause of this?” he asked, frowning.

Indelicate, she raised a brow at him. “Are you not? Why else would I have such a craving for saltwater?”

“I thought you wished for olives.”

“Olives?” She made a face. “I think not.”

Percy blinked, feeling as though he had missed a vital step in their conversation. “I beg your pardon?”

Huffing, she threw her comb down, evidently done with her grooming for the night. “Never you mind! I wish to retire.” She stood, undoing the various ties and laces of her dress, while Percy stared at her in slack-jawed awe and confusion. “Go and… cavort with a young man, if one should make himself available to you.”

Then throwing back the covers of the bed, disturbing poor, sweet, Freya, who leapt to the floor, her ears turned back in displeasure, she climbed underneath them, turning away from Percy.

It was barely evening. The sun could still be seen from the window.

“I… very well,” he said, carefully. “If it please you, I shall go and fetch us some food.”

“Do whatever you wish,” she replied, muffled by the sheets. “Good night.”

Feeling very much as though he had just summoned, and then subsequently banished, a hurricane, Percy retreated from their rented room, shutting the door as quickly and quietly as possible so as not to disturb his wife.

That was… unusual.

Not, the constant, shifting hunger pangs, mind; his mother had had similar, if perhaps less intense, culinary desires which could turn on a lira at any given moment. In truth, there was much about pregnancy for which he had already been prepared, having assisted his mother in the arrival of his little sister. When a woman was suffering such emotional and mental torment, it was best not to argue with her, and to placate her as quickly and thoroughly as one could, something which Percy was more than happy to do. No, what was strange was her peculiar comment, her order for him to go and seek out the company of someone else--of another man.

To abandon his wife for the pleasures of another was unthinkable, and not in the least because his spouse just so happened to be, in a bizarre twist of fate, the great love of his life. Again, he recalled how his mother would occasionally spit curses at her loving husband for the most minor of infractions, so the fact that Annabeth, who had tied herself to him in order to escape the pressures of an uncaring, unfamiliar political snare, who had, presumably, not gone into the arrangement expecting or even desiring of a child, and who, historically, had only barely tolerated his presence, was to be expected.

That she had specified he should search for the company of another man was the odd detail in this situation.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him how he had not eaten since this morning, so consumed was he in the hunt for olives, and so he made his way downstairs to the ground floor of the inn, to purchase some dinner for himself--and for Annabeth also, who would almost certainly be ravenous when she awoke, and hopefully, in something of a happier mood.

***

They had picked up a fellow traveler in the city of Lipsi , who had warned them off continuing further down the Via Imperii . “Many wars,” he had said, “much fighting--it would not do for your lovely wife to be caught up in all of that.”

As much as Percy wished to protest, that Annabeth was more than capable of handling herself, even in such a state, she had been so fatigued as of late that he did not wish to risk her safety. Therefore, himself, Annabeth, and the traveler, an itinerant monk named Johann, turned West instead, along the Via Regia . The detour would not put them too far off--once they reached the  city of Trever , they could then turn South, towards Basler , and continue through the valley.

Percy and Annabeth had come upon the man as he rested by the side of the road, his curiously shaven head something of a beacon in the dark, green forest. Though Annabeth had initially protested, Percy, being in possession of a horse cart, felt offering him assistance would have been, at least, the polite thing to do. Now they sat all three of them in the front of the cart, Percy in the center with Johann to his left, while Annabeth alternately dozed off, attended to her knitting, a blanket in the making, or stroked sweet little Freya, who had become ever more protective of her mistress’ growing belly.

He was an interesting man, this Johann, pleasant and good-natured. He had embarked on a cross-continental journey of his own, one which ranged from his hometown of Cölln , all the way to the resting place of St. James in Hispania . “Fifteen hundred miles,” he said, ruefully, in perfect Italian, “and I am the poor fool who twists his ankle barely out of his own door.”

“Lady Fortuna must pass us all over some time,” said Percy.

“On the contrary,” said the monk, “your presence is proof of her blessing.”

Perhaps it was his joviality, or perhaps it was the warm sun, beating down on them, wrapping Percy in comfort, but he was in a merry mood as well. “I would have thought you to say that all blessings came from the Lord.”

“And who is to say He did not send you to me, miserable thing that I am?” said Johann. “There is a story I heard once, of a man who found himself in a lake. A pious, devoted man, he had only the utmost, unwavering faith in our Lord, faith that He would deliver the man from the waters before he drowned. Well, by and by, a man comes up to him in a canoe. ‘Sir,’ says the sailor to the man, ‘there is space in my vessel here; climb aboard, and I shall bring you to land.’ But the man refuses, saying, ‘I have faith in the Lord. He shall save me.’ And the sailor goes on. Not long after, another man comes up to him, in yet another canoe. ‘Sir,’ says the second sailor, ‘I have come to rescue you, for the waters are bitter cold, and my wife has a warm fire and a dry bed reserved for your use.’ But once again, the man refuses, saying, ‘I shall remain, for the Lord shall see me through.’ Well,” Johann shrugged, the corners of his lips tugging in a smile, “predictably, this poor, pious man drowns after some time. A person of deepest faith, he arrives at the gates of Heaven, whereupon he is given an interview with our Lord Christ, and he asks, ‘my God, my God, I had unwavering faith in your infinite mercy. Why did you not deliver me from the watery depths?’”

Clearly a practiced storyteller, he paused, a silence which begged to be filled by his audience. “And?” asked Percy. “What did he say?”

“At this question, our Lord Christ shakes his head, and says to the man, ‘My child, there was not much more that I could have done, for you refused the two boats which I sent to you.’”

Percy couldn’t help it--he laughed. “I daresay,” he said, “I have never met a man of the cloth so jovial as you.”

“That is what sunlight does to a man,” said Johann, full of good humor. “My brothers may think they have the better of it, sheltered from wind and rain with their books, but to cage me within four walls was anathema to my entire being, for I have always had a singular talent for making things grow. Did not all of creation begin in a garden? Thus, the gardener is a blessed man indeed.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled, a little uneasily. That Percy and Annabeth were not, strictly speaking, devotees of the trinity, and did not quite understand the finer details of the faith, had not quite come up in conversation yet. He sincerely hoped Johann would not ask.  

“But you did not tell me your destination,” said the monk, looking on them both eagerly. “What calling of yours caused our two paths to intertwine?”

Percy glanced towards Annabeth, who had decided to ignore their sudden companion altogether, in favor of observing the trees as they passed. “My… wife and I are on our way to Venice.”

Such a simple phrase, “my wife,” yet Percy could not think of another combination of syllables which had ever given him nearly the same kind of joy.

“Venice, eh? That is quite the journey. Are you on a pilgrimage as well?”

“Ah, no--well--” Though, he considered, were they not? They went to seek spiritual enlightenment of a sort in a far off land. Did that not count as a pilgrimage by any standard? Certainly not in the sense which the good monk was implying, yet nonetheless, it was indeed a pilgrimage. The only difference was that they were not at all certain their destination held the answers which they sought. “We are hoping to… find our fortune there.”

Johann looked him up and down, and then at Annabeth. “Your fortune?” He asked. “I must commend you, sir, for you do not look like you need another one.”

Feeling the telltale flush in his cheeks, he glanced once again towards Annabeth, who, strangely, acted as though she hadn’t heard his comment. He was correct, of course, but Percy was not certain if he appreciated other men saying so--even a man of the cloth.

But the monk continued. “Venice is supposed to have one of the most magnificent cathedrals in all of Christendom: the Chiesa d’Oro . They say it is modeled on the great St. Sophia of Constantinople--of course, I have never seen it myself, so I cannot verify such a claim.”

Even the thought of St. Sophia, of her golden domes and radiant light, made Percy’s heart ache for home--a home to which he could never return. “St. Sophia was a masterpiece to behold,” said Percy, a little wistfully. “I am hard-pressed to imagine another temple quite as awe-inspiring.”

With a little thrill in his gaze, Johann leaned in, closer to Percy. “You have beheld the Church of the Holy Wisdom for yourself? Is it as beautiful as they say?”

“More than that, sir, there is no other place quite like it. To tell you truly,” he said, chuckling a little, “my wife and I both hail from Constantinople.”

For a moment, Annabeth looked up and over at him and their companion, narrowing her eyes, but then she just frowned and went back to her knitting.

Johann frowned as well, though more confused than upset, unlike his wife. “From the city itself, you say?”

Percy nodded.

“Then, if I may be so bold, how have you found yourself in these parts? Unless I am very much mistaken, one does not usually feel the need to travel to Saxonia on one’s journey to Venice from the holy lands.”

“Not usually, no,” said Percy. “However, the two of us, we were…” He paused, uncertain of how much information he was willing to share with this virtual stranger. “I was stationed on the walls,” he said. “We fled the city just as the Ottomans broke the siege, then traveled North, to her cousin’s estates.”

“I see,” said the monk. “You were deep in the thick of it, then?”

The all-consuming flames and the blood-curdling screams of his memory, they faded more and more each day, as all battles did, for he was a soldier first and foremost, and war tended to blur together after a point. By contrast, sometimes he still awoke in a cold sweat, drumbeats in his ears as he relived the terror and panic of watching the gods flee the city in which they had dwelt for a thousand years, no more powerful than a crop of refugees. “Yes,” he said. “We were.”

Johann hummed, linking his hands together. “The loss of life is always a tragedy,” he said, “even that of a heretic. Alas, that the city of Constantine fell so far from grace that they had to be punished so!”

Percy shifted, uncomfortable.

“Yet,” he went on, still in that same, blasted, affable tone, “even in the face of great sorrow, there is cause to celebrate, for the Lord saw fit to spare you and your wife, and see you to safe harbors, no?”

He glanced towards Annabeth, who continued at her weaving, seemingly unaware of the monk’s comments. “Well, I--”

“If you will permit me, sir, let me bless your wife and unborn child, so that he or she may grow strong and pious in the loving embrace of the Lord.” And he opened his hands, all set to begin his little ritual.

With a thought, Percy pulled their cart to a stop, suddenly, bracing an outstretched arm against Annabeth so she would not be knocked forward. Freya, jolted from her mid-morning nap, mewed, pitiful. “Percy,” said Annabeth, in their own tongue, “what--”

“This is where we part ways,” said Percy to the Christian man. “Disembark, and quickly.”

He sat, slack-jawed. “I beg your pardon?”

If Percy had been more in control of his emotions, then he may not have uttered his next words. However, later on, he found he did not regret them. “My wife and I are not interested in blessings from your trinity gods.”

“My--” he sputtered. “You--”

“I will not repeat myself--you are no longer welcome to travel with us.”

His pale skin flushed with anger, the monk chose not to argue with him, but did disembark, as though he could no longer bear their presence. “Heathen,” he hissed. “The Lord knows your heart, and for your lack of faith, He shall smite you down to the depths of the underworld.”

Possessed of a fury he did not know he could feel, Percy drew himself up to his full height, reaching deep within himself to the core of his being, the part of him which could summon typhoons, slay monsters, and cause the very earth beneath them to split--the part which could more than terrify a simple fool. “And there we shall be welcomed as heroes,” he said, “for we personally know the lord of the dead himself.”

White with terror, the monk touched his face and shoulders, chanting Latin beneath his breath. Leaving him to it, Percy snapped the reins on the horse, and they took off once more, leaving Johann in the dust.

Annabeth, twisted around in her seat, peered back at the retreating figure of their one-time travelling companion. “Do not mistake my confusion for disappointment,” she said, “for I, too, am glad to be rid of him, though I must say, that was very suddenly done.”

Percy scoffed, twisting the reins between his fingers, something with which to ground himself. “Had I known what he would offer,” he nearly growled, “I would have expelled him sooner.”

Curious, she tilted her head. “What offer was so odious as to force him from your sight?”

Blinking, Percy turned towards her. As always, his heart raced at the sight of those grey eyes on him, though at this moment they were wide in innocent confusion. Percy frowned. He had thought she was a better listener than he, on most occasions. “His offer to bless us in the name of his lord.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that what he said?”

“Did you not hear him?”

“I did,” she huffed, annoyed. Again. She seemed often annoyed with him these days. “But as I cannot understand Italian, clearly I missed a few things.”

She--”You--what?”

Lips pursed, heat rushed to her cheeks, though she did not let up on her steely stare. “Yes?”

“You cannot speak Italian?”

“I have just told you so.”

“But--” Percy sputtered. “But--how did you--how did you take orders from your commander?”

The Venetians and the Genoese had comprised most of the command posts on the wall and had not bothered to learn the local language for themselves. Knowledge of Italian, therefore, had been crucial to the defense of the city, something Annabeth would certainly have known.

“My commander was a fool and a drunkard,” she said, turning her nose up, “and perished one night after he fell off the wall.”

“Then… who--” But he stopped himself before he could finish his question, for there was only one reasonable answer. “You took command of your unit.”

“Obviously.”

“And none of your men took issue with a woman leading them into battle?”

Her stern gaze transformed into a glare, narrowed and piercing. “Not when it guaranteed them victory.”

For a moment, Percy could do nothing but stare right back, in disbelief and incredulity. She must have led her little cohort for months, the warrior woman of Constantinople, Areia made flesh. No wonder the northern portion of the wall held for so long.

Then, out of nowhere, he laughed.

“And what, pray tell, is so amusing?” his wife asked, lips thin, brow furrowed.

“Nothing, nothing,” he chortled. He could not say from where such delight had come, nor why it had suddenly taken him over thus. Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that, no matter how much time had passed, Annabeth’s character remained remarkably consistent from the first day he had known her. She would always find a way to command, to control--and, save one obvious exception, to deliver victory. “Oh, Anja,” he said, fondness warming him up from the inside out, “I beg of you, do not ever change.”

“I shall endeavor not to.” She said, faintly. She seemed at a loss for words for several moments, a rarity with her, then spoke once more. “You… you called me Anja.”

Percy frowned, “I know I struggle with your northern tongue, did I not pronounce it correctly?” He had attempted to divine the subtleties in the difference between the Ana that he had always known her to be, and the Anja her family called her, but perhaps he had been mistaken.  

“No.” Softly, sweetly, a smile curled the straight lines of her mouth, even as she turned her face out to watch the trees as they passed, raising a hand to rest delicately on her stomach. “You were perfect.”

***

Percy laid out his cloak over the smoothest rock he could find. It was a nice cloak, of a much higher quality fabric and weave than to which he was most accustomed. Had he been a smarter man, most likely he would not have used the garment for such a task as this--but he was used to his clothes being worn out, multipurpose things. The hot velvet could find another use as a blanket until the warmth of early summer passed them by.

Having prepared her seat, he then rushed back to the wagon, reaching his hand out for Annabeth to steady herself on it. “I am not an invalid,” she chided, stretching her leg down to the earth. “You do not have to take such precaution with me.”

“It is no trouble.” The days, slowly but surely, were getting longer, Helios’ chariot lingering for a few more minutes every evening. They could certainly afford to stop and rest for a while should she require it. Once she had revealed to him her condition, he had resolved to mold the pace of their journey to her level of comfort and satisfaction. To ensure her health and the health of their child, Percy could stand a few unexpected delays.

Supporting her with his arm, he led her to the makeshift seat of stone, situated in a patch of sunlight bracketed by the shadows of the trees behind them. With an adorable little grunt, her sweet face scrunched up, she sat down upon it, sighing in relief. “There,” she breathed, hanging her head. “That’s better.”

The town of Trever was still a little ways off, but they could still see the rise of the town walls over the rolling hills. He noted, with some displeasure, the towering spindle resting on top of the ancient gate--was there nothing these trinity men would not claim for themselves?--but chased the thought from his mind, focusing instead on the more pressing issue at hand. “What is wrong?”

She had not explicitly told him why they should stop, only that she was desperate for relief of some kind. Rather than push for a reason, he had chosen instead to indulge her. “Some water, please?” she asked, her face drawn.

Nearly tripping over himself, he leapt up onto the wagon to retrieve the water skin before delivering it to her, kneeling down before her. “Are you alright?” he asked again, hiding his concern as best he could. She did not like him to fret so much over her--not that she could stop him.

“I am fine,” she promised. “Your child is just--very active.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Oh?”

She nodded. “Here--feel.” Then, without hesitation, she grasped his hand, and placed it over her stomach.

Percy, by design, had refrained himself from touching her in any manner that was not explicitly one of acquaintanceship since that wonderful, terrible night, not in any meaningful way. In turn, she had not, precisely, refused his company, but had kept him at something of a distance, emotionally if not physically, likely for his own protection. But now she had initiated contact, had invited him in, and Percy was once again caught up in the sublime experience which was being close to Annabeth Fredriksdotter. Her hair, nearly twice as long as it was when they had arrived in Svealand, was bound up in an intricate knot, though loose, gilded strands fell out here or there, as she had left her head uncovered today, insisting that it was too hot for her wimple. Percy understood that it was key to her modesty as a married woman to cover her head, even if she was married to the likes of him, though he could not pretend he did not dislike it, at times. If only she would look at him, though, grace him with her lovely gaze, rather than their joined hands.

So distracted by the sunlight filtering through her hair that he nearly missed it.

A small, nearly imperceptible jolt beneath his fingertips.

Then he felt it again.

He recognized the feeling--it was one he recognized from when his mother was pregnant with his dear, sweet little Esther. “Is that…” he said, trailing off, softly so as not to disturb the moment.

“That,” said his wife, jovial, “is the little monster which has been causing me so much distress recently.”

Swallowing, he blinked back the sudden heat from his eyes. “Oh,” he said, pulling his emotions together so he did not weep. “I am sorry.”

“As you should be,” she said, but she was grinning at him. “Your child is kicking me in the ribs--a skill I am quite certain he got from you.”

He . She thought they were going to have a son.

Something in her smirk riled an old part of his brain. “Kicking was always your maneuver,” he accused, smiling in turn. “If she is kicking,” he insisted, emphasizing the opposite sex purely on principle alone, “it is surely due to her mother’s influence.”

She rolled her eyes at the reference. “Oh, please do not say you are still sore from--”

“I swear, to this day, I still bear the marks from the force of your blow!”

“I have seen you without clothes on,” Annabeth said, “and you have no such mark, believe me.”

A silence fell between the two of them, chilly and awkward. She did not attempt to remove his hand from her person, and nor did he wish to remove it.

“It occurs to me,” she said quietly, after some time, “that I… I have never apologized for how I treated you back then.”

Rubbing his thumb against the fabric of her dress, he shrugged. “That time has long since passed,” he murmured, “and we are two very different people now. Let the past remain in the past, I say.”

“Still. I was--very cruel to you,” she said. “I should not have said those things.”

She had been very cruel. Percy had returned to the agoge after a year and a half spent with the Legion, expecting open arms and welcome smiles from his friends and brothers in arms, only to be met with scorn and derision from the one person whom he had most wanted to see.

After the war with the titans, they had only been granted a short reprieve before they had received an envoy from Aachen, begging Percy’s help with a monster which they simply could not fight on their own, diminished as they were in the realm of Karolus Magnus , far from their ancestral home. Never one to turn down a cry for help, Percy had entreated Annabeth and their former questing companion now turned Lord of the Wild to accompany him. Unfortunately, in the snowy mountains of Dardania, they were ambushed by monsters, and separated. By the time Percy came to his senses, he was in the tender grip of the Latins, and Annabeth was long gone.

A naturally distrustful lot, they would not let him free until he had proven his loyalty to the rootless empire, and they sent him away to train with their patroness in the wilds. Once Lupa deemed him worthy of service, upon his return, they then put him to work, pairing him with his Latin counterpart, the son of Jupiter.

Again, he felt no shame with what he had with Iason. Theirs had been a soldiers’ romance, brief, but deep, intense and overwhelming. In truth, he would not have fallen in with the man, save for that he had been under the impression that Annabeth had left him to his doom in the mountains. The Latins had intimated to him evidence of a person’s quick retreat where they had found him, and had let him come to his own conclusions.

Once the giant Polybotes had been slain, then, and Percy had been released from unwilling service, he had been allowed to return to the shores of Constantinople. There he had received something of a hero’s welcome, with all due honors and celebrations--except, of course, from Annabeth, who had been decidedly not happy with his return. Feelings between them grew fouler and fouler, until, one fateful day, as they were practicing their weapons’ routines on each other’s persons, more hateful words had been traded rather than blows. Quickly, what had been a skilled and professional match devolved into something dirty and mean, filthy trick after filthy trick, until she had kicked him square in the ribs, knocking him flat onto the ground, hissing from between bloodied teeth how she would have preferred it if he had died in Dardania.

After that, Percy had promptly departed for his father’s palace, seeking escape in the form of good cheer and happier people, chasing away his broken heart in the arms of Thetis, and others.

They had not shared a serious or friendly conversation for years--not until the morning the Ottomans broke through the defense of the city.

“Think nothing of it,” he said, unwilling to dwell on that time any longer than he had to. He would not say it was alright, for it was not, but he also had let go of that animosity many months before, in the shadow of the Erechtheion.

“You must understand,” she went on, a little forceful, “I was not angry with you, but with myself. I thought I had lost you to a fate unspeakable--”

“I am not certain I would classify Latin conscription as a fate unspeakable,” said Percy, dryly.

She flushed. “I--I only meant--”

“Annabeth,” he said, not wanting to tread this ground any further, “let it be done. Please.”

“After the war,” she spoke, urgently, “I thought… I had--thought that we would… well.” All at once, she slumped as though the very breath had gone out of her, removing her hand from his, nearly curling into herself. “I suppose,” she murmured, “it no longer matters what I thought.”

She did not need to clarify. He knew perfectly well what she had meant. It was not much of a secret that Percy and Annabeth had held some youthful affection for each other, not even from each other. So easily it could have blossomed into something stronger. “I wanted to,” he said, craning his neck to meet her eyes so she could see the truth of it. He had wanted to, and had planned to. But he was no fool, for he knew that a man needed a way of supporting a family before he could start one. The expedition to Aachen, that would have been his ticket into some of the upper echelons of Constantinople; a letter of introduction from a tribune, prefect, or even a centurion would have done wonders for his social standing and finances. “I swear, I wanted to, but then…”

Her lips lifted in a small smile. Not one of happiness, no. She knew all too well the things they had done to each other, the barbs they had hurled and the wounds they had inflicted. It was the acknowledgement of old sorrows and long-ignored pain which caused her to smile, a pain shared and understood only by the man before her. “As you stated,” she said, “we are now different people, and we cannot dwell on what may have transpired between us.”

A satisfactory answer--tragic, yes, but satisfactory nonetheless. “But we are friends, yes?” he asked, hoping for a little salve for his broken heart.

She raised her head, grey eyes clear and steady. “It is my very honor, Perseus,” said she, a pronouncement handed down from the empress herself, “to call you my friend--my dearest friend.”

It was not exactly what a husband might want to hear from his wife, nor what a man might want from the woman he loved about all things. But for Percy, it would be enough. It was Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter: her hand, her child, her friendship. Perhaps one day, that friendship could be transmuted into something more affectionate, but Percy would not waste his time waiting for a day which would never come, not when she was here, before him, solid and tangible.

“Percy,” she said, very sweetly, “as wonderful as this is, unfortunately, I must ask you to give me some privacy at this time.”

“Oh,” he staggered to his feet, snatching his hand back. “Of course.” This, too, was a symptom of pregnancy with which he was quite familiar. His poor mother’s body had been pushed to its very limit, and she had had to relieve herself quite often. “I shall leave you to it, then.”

Then, face red, he trotted round to the other side of the wagon, where, paradoxically, he could better protect her.

***

Percy blinked, uncomprehending. “I beg your pardon?”

“I merely said,” she repeated, unconcerned, “that you no longer have to keep up the pretense. It has been months since I have had such voracious cravings, yet you continue to make a show of your search. It is natural for men to wish time for themselves--I know very well what a man can do with this time away from his wife.” She looked on him flatly, as though she thought he was the fool  for thinking her to be one instead. “I am more than capable of amusing myself for a few hours. Please, go on--I am sure the good people of the brothel await.”

The--”I would not do that to you,” said Percy, quietly, a little insulted. Did she truly think so low of him that he would make good on his long-forgotten promise to abandon her to her freedom? Did she not understand that dreams of their brief time together would sustain him as water in a desert, and yet ruin him for any other man or woman? “If you do not believe me, then I insist you accompany me,” he said, firmly. “Allow me to put these thoughts of yours to rest.”

She looked out the window of their little room, where the sun hung low in the sky over Messalia . It had been a hot, July mid-morning when they rambled into town, looking for a place to stay the night before they would put to sea the next day, the streets and corners quiet as the people retreated to their homes for their daily rest. Now, as the shadows began to stretch, the city came to life once more, the hustle and bustle of commerce a dull roar beneath the room in the little inn which they had rented. Through the air wafted the scents of spices, coal fire, and the blessed salt smell of the sea, the glittering, golden jewel that lay beyond the walls. “Very well,” she said. “I believe I shall. A walk outside may do me some good.”

With some difficulty, as her large stomach made everything rather difficult for her these days, she managed to stand up from the low bed, reaching for her wimple which she had discarded previously. Tying it about her face, he was once again struck by the duality of his emotions, that he could feel so disheartened and yet so elated by the same action. Her wimple covered all of her gorgeous, golden hair, as modesty dictated it must, yet the act of hiding such beauty signified, once again, that she was his wife--a cause for great celebration, if only in his heart.

And so they went together on the town.

It was an absolutely marvelous time.

Once again, the sea infused his senses and soothed his entire being--a familiar sea this time, not the strange, frigid waters of the north, but the deep lapis and emerald of his childhood. Every shaft of sunlight felt as the touch of a friendly hand, and every shadow a cool breeze of relief. Together, arm in arm, they wandered up and down the markets, where Annabeth used the time given to her to practice her Italian. She was a remarkably quick study, as he knew she would be, though it did help that the merchants here were much more familiar with that language than they had been further north.

By now, Percy had been to markets practically all over the world. Each one was unique, distinct, with its own set of sights and sounds and smells, and yet, each one had been positively lackluster, almost grey in his memory. Not many men were fortunate enough to have seen so much of the known world, and had lived to tell the tale of it. Today, however, walking about with his eight month pregnant wife in the streets of Messalia, he finally understood what they all had been lacking.

So caught up in his wife’s lovely smile as she admired a particularly ripe set of figs, that he accidentally barreled into another person, spilling the contents of their arms all over the ground. Fruit went tumbling, smashing the earth in rich, dark colors, staining the well-worn streets. “Ah, perdono !” he cried, dropping to his knees to help gather up the items which could be salvaged. “ Scusatemi !”

“ Non, non, mon sieur ,” said the woman, joining him on the ground, “ perdon , per … Percy?”

At the sound of his name, his head snapped up.

She was an older woman, with long, thick brown hair streaked with grey, and eyes that shifted color in the low light. Her skin was tanned a deep brown from hours spent in the sun, and though her face was lined with age, none would look on her and not consider her to be a great beauty.

They stared at each other, in shock and disbelief.

“Percy?” called Annabeth, faint in his ears. “I am in need of your assistance, as I cannot remember the world you taught me--”

“Oh!” wept the older woman, dropping the rest of the fruit she had gathered onto the street, opening her arms to hold him. “It is you!”

And with a deep, wrenching sob, pulled from his chest, Percy threw himself into the warm embrace of his mother.

“ Mater , mater ,” he moaned, burying his face into her chest as she held him close. “Oh, mater !”

“I knew it, I just knew it,” she was saying, over and over again, clutching him to her breast, kissing his forehead, “I knew you had made it out. Oh, lord of the sea, earth-shaker in the swelling brine, thank you, thank you, thank you for my son!”

So caught up in the sudden wave of emotion, he was rendered nearly mute. “Mother,” he finally croaked, taking in the warm, sweet scent of her--cinnamon and cloves and sea salt. To think that he had almost forgotten the particular details, hands calloused from years of cooking, eyes twinkling like stars on the surface of the water. “Mother!”

“My boy!” Sally pulled back, raking her hands through his hair, pushing it from his face so she could look on him more clearly. “Oh, my boy, I never thought I would see you again!”

“Nor I you,” he replied, tears blurring his vision. “How--how are you here?”

“I could ask you the very same,” she said, smiling the sweet summer smile which had lit his childhood as a candle in the dark, “and I will hear all of it--but for now, let me simply look upon you! It has been far, far too long since I have seen your smiling face.”

He was smiling, so wide and genuine that it caused his face to ache, a pain he was more than happy to bear, down on his knees in the middle of Messalia. “I have missed you, mater ,” he said, “so much.”

“Percy?”

Blinking, he came back to himself, emerging from the dream so suddenly made real. The populace of Messalia were not giving them so wide a berth, just barely sparing the two the indignity of being walked all over. Annabeth stood a little ways away, her hand resting on her protruding stomach, light concern falling over her face like a veil.

“Mother,” he said, seized with a strange kind of energy, “here.” With steady hands, he lifted her up from the ground, the ruined fruit forgotten. Annabeth stepped closer to them, trepidation slowing her pace. She had already met his mother a number of times--they had often taken rest at her house when a quest required them to take their leave from the agoge for several days at a time--but even he understood that to meet her as his wife was a vastly different thing.

But his mother, quick as ever, cottoned onto the truth of the matter. “Percy,” she breathed, full of disbelief, “is that--”

“You remember Annabeth,” said Percy, nerves seizing his tongue and nearly stopping it in his mouth, “my--my wife.”

How strange, that weeks ago, the two syllables represented one of the happiest truths of his life, and yet today, he felt as anxious as a baby colt learning to walk for the first time, desperate for the two most important women in his world to feel some sort of kinship.

His mother gasped, her hands flying to her face. “Annabeth!” she cried, taking her in her arms without hesitation. “Your wife! How wonderful! Oh, blessed day that made your way here!”

Annabeth stood there, quite shocked, before bringing her arms up as well.

“Oh, goodness,” said his mother, pulling herself back, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Look at me--I apologize for such unbecoming behavior. But you must come back with me--Paul and Esther will be overjoyed--I will need to purchase some wine--”

It was then that Percy remembered he had, quite indirectly, ruined her groceries. Fruit was not inexpensive, and neither was wine. Percy knew his mother, and he knew she would wish to cook for him in celebration, but he would not see her waste any more of her money on his account. “Allow me,” he said, placing a hand on her arm. “I shall pay you back in full, and then some. Ah, if,” he glanced towards Annabeth, seeking her permission, for it was her money after all, “if that is alright, of course.”

She looked at him, quizzically. “Of course it is alright.”

“Percy,” sighed his mother, “you do not need to--”

“It is settled, then!” Taking her arm in his, he directed them to the fruit seller whom Annabeth had been speaking to just prior, unwilling to let go of his mother for even a second. “We shall have a veritable feast!”

***

Paul, his mother’s husband, had wept upon seeing them. Dear, sweet little Esther refused to let go of her elder brother, stubbornly clinging to his leg. Eventually, she had tired herself out, the poor thing, only allowing her father and Annabeth to take her to bed when she had nearly fallen asleep in his lap. Percy had tried to persuade Annabeth to relax, but she had insisted, looking on Esther with such sweetness and doting in her eyes that Percy found himself hard-pressed to say no. Perhaps she would be so sweet and affectionate with their daughter, as well. The very thought excited him in ways he could not quite describe.

If she was forced to be a mother, then, perhaps it would not be the harshest of fates.

“I am so glad, Percy,” said his own mother, once he had recounted to her the whole, winding tale of his and Annabeth’s journey. Her looking at him with such fondness, it transported him back to that dark, bleak time, when they were all that each other could claim to call their own. Now look at them--families and children, both. Beneath the thumb of a monstrous man, sometimes it was difficult to imagine otherwise. “When the news of Constantinople’s fall reached us… yet I kept the faith. I knew you would survive, and I am so glad you had someone with you.”

He smiled, taking her hands in his, kissing the knuckles there. “All I learned of survival,” he said, “I learned from you.”

She squeezed his hands, warm and solid.

“But you must tell me how you came to Messalia,” said Percy, before he could begin to weep. “How is it you found your way to this place?”

His mother lifted her shoulders, tilting her head. “My story is not nearly so exciting as yours, I can promise you that. Our voyage out of Constantinople was swift and peaceful, and we arrived on the shores of this city far faster than we thought possible.”

“That was my father,” said Percy. “In Svealand, I had a dream of him--he bade me to send you his love.”

Her countenance transforming, she smiled, sweetly, knowingly, a glint in her eye which lifted years off of her face. “I had wondered,” she said, “for our voyage did seem unusually safe.” Then she shook her head, lightly, casting off whatever memories had come to her in that moment. “What else did he tell you?”

Much that he wished to keep to himself, though he was sure she would understand. “Have you ever heard of the city of old soldiers?” he asked his mother instead. He felt all of fourteen years old once more, seeking his mother’s guidance, begging for wisdom from a woman of keen sight and keener instinct.

Frowning, she turned her gaze towards the open window, to the stars which were beginning to show their faces. “I do not know this city of which you speak,” she said quietly.

Percy sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Yet,” said his mother, “I, too, have had some extraordinary dreams as of late.”

At that, he perked up once more, leaning in to listen better. As she had told him, once upon a time, her sight had waned alongside her youth, though she could still occasionally perceive that which lay just beyond the comprehension of most mortals. “What have you seen?” he asked, breathless.

She closed her eyes, recalling. “In a city on a river,” she said, “there is a grand building--a church, made of marble, white and green, and above it rests a red dome, reaching towards the sky, as though it longs to return from whence it came.”

“A city on a river,” he repeated. Another clue--yet, just as many cities had rivers as they did old soldiers.

“I apologize, my son,” said his mother, opening her eyes once more. “This is all I know.”

He squeezed her hands, comforting. “Think nothing of it. We have already decided to seek our fortune in Venice--I have been told that their church there was modeled on St. Sophia. Perhaps this is the dome of which you speak.”

“Perhaps,” she said, unconvinced. “But must you leave us so soon? You will do well in Venice, of that I have no doubt, yet I do not know if I can bear to be apart from you once again. And,” then she grinned, her eyes suddenly sparkling, “I should very much like to meet your child.”

Percy blinked at her, processing what she was saying. Then he flushed, grinning weakly in return. “Ah, yes, well… I should like you to meet her as well.”

Certainly, he possessed no gift of prophecy--he was not, as it were, a child of Apollo--but he found himself dreaming more and more of that little girl with his wife’s lovely hair and eyes, like the children who dressed as St. Lucy. A little girl whom he could lavish all fatherly love and affection upon, rather than a wife who would find it a nuisance at best. She would be his princess; and if her mother could be persuaded, he would call her his Anja.

The lines on her face ran deep, carved from years of laughter and joy which poured forth from her like the sun itself. “Even at such a young age, I could sense the fondness and affection you had for each other. You do not know how happy I am for the two of you.”

A fondness and affection which had now faded on her part--but at least they had resolved to remain friends in a marriage of trust and support, if not love. “When I have made enough money,” he promised, to take his mind off of his situation, “I will send for you and your family, and we will never be parted again. In fact,” he said, struck with sudden inspiration. Rummaging through the various folds of his clothing, he located his purse which carried the rest of the money he had on him, then placed it in his mother’s hand. “Here. A gift, to a wonderful mother from her loving son.”

“Percy,” she tutted, brow furrowed. “Do not concern yourself with me. We are comfortable here, Paul and I; you must focus all of your resources on providing for your own family now.”

“Annabeth has more than enough to provide for herself, her dowry was immense. More land than I thought possible, sold for more money.” he said. “She and our children--our child,” he corrected, cursing himself for his weak tongue, and praying his mother had not caught it, “our child will be kept in comfort for the rest of their days. I carry only a bit for pocket change, so she need not do all the bartering for me. You have done so much for me--please, allow me to do this for you.”

“What do you mean?” his mother asked, picking up the purse, surprised by the weight of it. He observed as she untied the cord, and spilt the contents on her table, the gold coins clinking against each other ever so noisily. “Is it not your money now?”

“I suppose, legally , yes.” he conceded. “But the land we--she gained from her uncle is ancient family land. It would not do for me to leech such things away from her.” Bad enough that she had to be tied to him in motherhood and marriage, but he would not stoop so low as to usurp the use of her finances. “Once I arrive in Venice, I will then pay my own way,” he promised his mother, and his wife, though she was not there to hear him. “I will find work as a laborer, or if I am lucky, perhaps a ship will be in need of a sailor.”

“I suggest,” his mother said, “that you speak to your wife regarding such things.”

As much as he would have liked to protest, said wife reentered at that moment, helped along by Paul. “Percy,” she said, “the hour grows late, and we have left poor little Freya all by her lonesome.”

“Ah--of course,” said Percy, standing as well. Damn that cat, he thought. “Then I believe we must take our leave of you now, mother.”

“I understand,” she said, rising to see them out. “Will we see you again ‘ere you depart?”

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “I shall return to you once more.”

Then she swept him up in her arms again. “Until that happy time, my son.”

He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of oil and onion, cinnamon and cloves, hearth and home, and marveled again at the strength of his wife who had borne the pain of leaving her father to travel the world with someone like him. “Until then.”

[qobiin]

(he doesn’t exist now) survived by his son

pairings: lan wangji & lan sizhui, background wangxian

genre: angst, fluff | canon-compliant, post-wei wuxian’s death

warnings: grief/mourning, canon-typical mentions of violence, lwj’s punishment, the inherent agony of living without the other half of your soul

a/n #1: this is for eri, the one who got me to watch cql in the first place. happy birthday, i hope today is amazing! have 9k of dad!lwj as a treat <3 title is taken from steven universe’s “drift away” btw (:

words: 9398

summary: When Wei Wuxian falls, Lan Wangji does not throw himself after him.

part one of always come back to you 

When Wei Wuxian falls, Lan Wangji does not throw himself after him.

He has no idea why at the time.

His heart and will are in shambles. His grip on Bichen’s sheath is hard enough to turn his knuckles white. His ribbon burns against his forehead. He is unsure that he is even breathing, all his air having left him when he screamed the moment Wei Wuxian pulled away.

Still, he remains standing, horror engulfing him whole. Sect Leader Jiang is standing beside him, just as frozen as he is but he does not dare look at his soulmate’s brother. His soulmate’s murderer because Wei Wuxian only pulled out of Lan Wangji’s grasp after Sect Leader Jiang’s sword struck the cliff face. Sect Leader Jiang may have pulled the blow Lan Wangji knew was aimed for their arms, but it does not change the fact that Wei Wuxian let go.

Something urges him to not follow after Wei Wuxian and he is uncertain of what it could be at first. It feels familiar, like a sensation Lan Wangji should recognize but cannot remember anymore. Almost like the notes of a song Lan Wangji memorized when he was first starting on the guqin but is unable to pinpoint where he learned it from.

(Later, he will think it felt too much like a warm hand on his chest pushing him away from the edge, pushing him away from the place his heart broke for good.

All he knows for certain is that he also died the moment Wei Wuxian took his last breath.)

He drifts - for lack of a better word - after that. Lan Wangji only recalls Brother pulling him away from the cliff, from Nightless City and the many eyes of the cultivators he just clashed swords with. He returns to Cloud Recesses with Brother and secludes himself in the Jingshi. 

For the first night, Lan Wangji does not sleep. When he closes his eyes, all he sees is Wei Wuxian letting go again.

He is unsure of how much time passes but at some point Brother comes to him with the news that the Lanling Jin Sect are going to lead a siege on the Burial Mounds. Wei Wuxian’s corpse had not been recovered after the battle at Nightless City and Jin Guangshan is still vying for the Stygian Tiger Amulet so their logical next step is to invade the resentful land where Wei Wuxian had tried in vain to start a family all on his own.

Lan Wangji leaves on foot after curfew but that is the last thing on his mind as his body moves almost against his will. For a while, it feels as if he is wandering without a purpose.

Confusion, pain, and grief wrack his frame every second of the day but there is still a familiar sensation tugging him along. Pulling him in a direction that he is certain he should recognize but can’t.

It is not until the sun rises above the horizon that he realizes where exactly his body is trying to go.

Yiling.

Lan Wangji rides his sword the rest of the way there.

It is not as quiet as Lan Wangji expected it to be.

That bothers him. A graveyard should only be filled with the sounds of the living giving tribute, but there is only the dead around him. The dead are quiet. The Burial Mounds aren’t.

He walks anyway, ignoring the pain in his body. The familiar sensation is tugging him along again. Lan Wangji is too tired to wonder about where it may be leading him because he gave up control as soon as it had gripped onto him. It pulls and he follows. It would not have led him here without a purpose, he is certain of that at least.

In the cave Wei Wuxian used to call his home, there is nothing left of him except his notes, hand-made furniture that will no longer see any use, and a dirty red ribbon Lan Wangji falls to his knees at the sight of. He loses himself in grief for who knows how long but soon realizes that his gasping breaths are not the only ones echoing around him. He stands, ribbon tied around his wrist, and walks desperately in search of the source of those raspy breaths.

He stops in front of a broken, hollow tree trunk not far from the entrance of the cave. Something is lying in it, barely hidden from view. For a moment, Lan Wangji ponders whether he will be stumbling upon the corpse of someone he should know but can’t quite recall. He only visited the Burial Mounds once while his soulmate was still alive, after all, and he had never learned everyone’s names.

Lan Wangji glances inside and knows now why it is not as quiet as it should in the Burial Mounds. Lan Wangji suddenly understands why he did not follow Wei Wuxian in death.

Wen Yuan lives.

Wei Wuxian’s son lives.

Their son lives.

Lan Wangji does not wish to, but he turns his back on Wen Yuan’s prone form and returns to the cave.

Cultivators are gathering there, all of them from different sects.

There is no Jiang purple among them. Lan Wangji counts that as the blessing it is meant to be. He does not wish to hurt those his soulmate cared so much for.

It does not stop him from confronting the crowd by himself. Jin Guangyao appears, telling him his uncle has arrived but Lan Wangji is unafraid.

He knows what he stands for and it is not this. It is not this inane scramble for power the rest of the cultivation world is allowing to cloud their minds and judgment. It is standing between the power-hungry and the weak, unwilling to move aside and let this madness continue. 

Lan Wangji is late in his decision, much too late to make things up to Wei Wuxian, but Wen Yuan is alive. A piece of his soulmate’s heart lives on and Lan Wangji is not going to allow harm to befall that little boy anymore.

So he fights those from his own sect, raising his sword to block blows from disciples of all ages. The Sect Elders themselves have shown up for the occasion but Lan Wangji cuts them down as well. He fights until there is no one to fight anymore, staggering and using Bichen as a crutch while cultivators lay around him on the ground in various stages of unconsciousness.

Uncle had only stayed long enough to command their sect in subduing him and bringing him back to Cloud Recesses for punishment. Lan Wangji does not wish to be punished, not when he now knows he is being righteous, but he walks back to the tree trunk hiding Wen Yuan and decides he will take them both back.

Wen Yuan needs medical attention, needs Lan Wangji’s protection from the rest of the world. Lan Wangji needs to keep him safe.

Wen Yuan is hot to the touch but he fits easily hidden under the folds of Lan Wangji’s robes. His head lies against his chest, his hair tickling Lan Wangji’s skin even through two layers of cloth.

It isn’t uncomfortable in the way that certain fabrics tend to be for him. Lace and silk are two of the few fabrics Lan Wangji can stand to have wrapped around him in six layers of robes without feeling like he is about to crawl out of his skin. Wen Yuan’s hair is neither of those but having it against him does not do anything more than cause his veins to break into song and make his heart feel like it is going to beat right out of his chest trying to follow the melody racing in his blood.

(It feels like Wei Wuxian’s hair against his neck, Wei Wuxian’s teasing grin directed at him in the face of his newest prank. Like Wei Wuxian laid across his lap in the darkness of a cave, delirious with fever, and asking Lan Wangji to play some music. Feels like Wei Wuxian meeting his gaze under the heavy downpour of rain, telling Lan Wangji that if he believes the rest of the cultivation world as right then Wei Wuxian will do everything their way instead and Lan Wangji being unable to say anything while he watches his soulmate lead the Wen remnants away.)

Lan Wangji’s eyes itch but he ignores his tears, his pain, his grief. He focuses on holding Wen Yuan securely in his embrace as he rides his sword back to Cloud Recesses, finding the strength to dredge up more spiritual power than he thought he originally had.

He remembers the little boy with a thin, dirty face who burst into tears after he settled his weight on Lan Wangji’s foot. After Wen Yuan gripped his ankle, and then looked up at him with a confused look in his almond-shaped eyes. After those villagers mistook him as Wen Yuan’s father and criticized him loudly enough to evoke shame within him since Lan Wangji had no idea what to do with a crying child suddenly invading his space. After Wei Wuxian swept in like a long-awaited dream and cleared the area of onlookers. After Wei Wuxian picked up the child and smiled up at Lan Wangji as if his heart was not doing its utmost best to beat right out of his chest and into the hands of the man he loved most.

After the boy smiled up at him and called him Rich-gege when he bought him as many toys as he wanted. After he paid for a large meal that fed both him and Wei Wuxian because their collarbones were prominent enough to tell Lan Wangji all he needed to know about their financial situation and just looking at them caused his breath to stutter in his chest. And after Wei Wuxian up and left again, taking the child and Lan Wangji’s weak heart with him, only leaving Lan Wangji himself bereft and more confused than he had ever felt before.

(“The child.” Lan Wangji remembers asking when Wei Wuxian first pulled the boy from Lan Wangji’s leg.

“He’s mine. I birthed him,” Wei Wuxian had said half-jokingly and half not at the same time.

It was obvious that the boy was Wei Wuxian’s in everything but blood. That made him Lan Wangji’s by extension. Wei Wuxian had been the one to proclaim them soulmates, more than brave enough to speak the words Lan Wangji had been holding back for years by then. Even if they would never marry or become partners in the manner that Lan Wangji desperately wished for, Wei Wuxian still looked upon him and saw Lan Wangji for who he really was.

When the time came for Wei Wuxian to have children, Lan Wangji would treat them well and spoil them in Wei Wuxian’s steed. Something he was more than able to do when he met Wen Yuan, Wei Wuxian’s son.

After all, any child of Wei Wuxian’s was also a child of Lan Wangji as well.)

When Lan Wangji first reached into the tree trunk and pulled him out, Wen Yuan’s face was still dirty, thinner than before, and flushed bright red. His little body was swathed in what Lan Wangji could only call rags and he shivered even as he sweated. 

Wen Yuan still feels feverishly hot against Lan Wangji’s chest but he pushes down his panic and rides. He does not stop until he has reached the entrance of Cloud Recesses and walks briskly towards the closest healer he can find.

There he watches as Wen Yuan is washed up, dressed in a clean white robe, and given enough medicine to help ease him into a peaceful sleep. Lan Wangji’s arm pulses where his wound has reopened but his pain can wait, ensuring that the child is well and can be healed is more important. Only once Wen Yuan’s breathing has returned to normal does Lan Wangji seek out Uncle.

Fortunately, he finds Brother with their uncle in the Jingshi. They have been expecting him and finding them together makes this next part easier.

He sidesteps their questions of what he had been doing at the Burial Mounds and inhales deeply before he says, “I accept punishment. I brought a child. He is my son and innocent.”

Uncle looks like he is going to explode at the seams, fury and worry shadowing every plane of his face. Lan Wangji grips onto Bichen’s sheath, the familiar pattern and texture calming him. 

It would be easy to claim the boy as his ward and adoptive son at best, but Lan Wangji needs to hide Wen Yuan’s origins or the last piece of his soulmate’s heart will be destroyed as violently as the rest of Wei Wuxian was. Lan Wangji will allow no harm to come to their son. If all that is required to keep Wen Yuan safe is the last of Lan Wangji’s credibility to be thrown away, then Lan Wangji is prepared to claim him as his bastard son.

“His name is Lan Yuan and he is ill. I will return to his bedside and await word of my punishment.” Lan Wangji bows to both men present and leaves as quickly as he appeared, not waiting to listen to whatever protests they may have.

Wen Yuan is still asleep when Lan Wangji returns and asleep still when Lan Wangji receives his punishment. Brother stays with Wen Yuan while the punishment is dealt out. Lan Wangji did not wish to leave his son alone but knowing that Brother is with him eases him.

Brother cannot interfere with his punishment after his initial attempts were drowned under the maliciousness of the Sect Elders and Uncle’s unmoving gaze. Brother would lose a lot more than just face within the Gusu Lan Sect if he denied Lan Wangji punishment altogether. As Sect Leader, Brother must be fair and unbiased, even when confronted with familial matters. Lan Wangji refuses to be the reason his brother loses all credibility in the cultivation world. Whatever others want to say or do to Lan Wangji is his business alone.

The pain of the whip is welcoming to him. Uncle appears furious throughout it all, but even through the haze, Lan Wangji knows it is not just him Uncle is angry with. Both the whip and Uncle’s disappointment are excruciating to bear and yet Lan Wangji does not find himself regretting his actions. 

He knew what would happen at Nightless City when he decided he would protect Wei Wuxian despite how out of favor he was with the rest of the cultivation world. When he fought any cultivator that decided they wanted to harm Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji thought Wei Wuxian was finally going to be safe. He believed himself capable of protecting what little remained of his soulmate’s efforts. Even after he failed in protecting Wei Wuxian, he found Wen Yuan and fought his own sect to keep this last speck of his soulmate’s presence safe. Despite the chaos, the grief, and the complete ruin of Wei Wuxian’s reputation, Lan Wangji knew whose side he would be on when push finally came to shove. He has known ever since he was first confronted with that mischievous smile at age fifteen. 

He had hoped that Wei Wuxian was aware of this as well but now he will never know for certain.

When the punishment is over, Brother is summoned and between him and Uncle, Lan Wangji finds himself being dragged first to the Cold Springs then back to the Jingshi between them, their gaits and grips unsteady alike. They dress his wounds as best as they can and stay with him the entire first night. Lan Wangji lies face down on his bed, sleep evading him for a long, long time while Brother and Uncle sleep propped against his bed frame and table respectfully. 

Lan Wangji withdraws from the eyes of the rest of the sect as he starts the slow healing process the healers are being forbidden from helping him with. His silence, which used to be something he took solace in, only grows as the days slowly tick by with Brother and Uncle by his side during the day. Only in the dark of night does he allow himself to hope in vain for a familiar, obnoxious voice to draw his attention away from the pain covering the expanse of his back and nestled deep within his heart.

Nothing comes except a heavy grief Lan Wangji is not prepared to handle.

Moments before Wen Yuan wakes four days later, Lan Xichen adds him to the clan registry and proclaims him as Lan Yuan, Lan Wangji’s son.

Lan Wangji is joyous even as his chest burns with the new Wen brand marring his skin and his mind struggles not to crumble under the guilt of what he revealed to his Brother the night before when he was intoxicated.

Lan Yuan doesn’t seem to notice either way as he begins to sob for his Xian-gege before his fever burns all his memories of a smiling man in black and red away.

Lan Yuan is a quiet child.

He is respectful, intelligent, and curious. He smiles more often than Lan Wangji does, but less often than Lan Wangji had expected. He does not remember anything from the time before he came to live at Cloud Recesses, only that he was hungry often and had met Lan Wangji once.

He studies diligently and accepts any praise or criticism his peers and teachers give to him. He becomes close friends with Lan Jingyi and develops a mischievous streak that none of the teachers could ever possibly trace back to Lan Yuan. Lan Wangji finds he isn’t concerned about this in the least. His son is still a child and children are allowed to have mindless fun now and again. 

When Lan Yuan calls him Father for the first time, it is seven months after he has been brought to Cloud Recesses. Nevertheless, Lan Wangji feels that same sensation that led him to his son stroke the dying embers in his heart until a new flame of fierce parental love begins to burn within him. He holds his son close and cries freely. Lan Wangji is not ashamed of loving his son so severely that being called Father for the first time brings him to tears.

It is an honor to be Lan Yuan’s father.

Despite that, whispered rumors begin to reach his ears in seclusion. 

At the next Discussion Conference that just so happens to be held by the Gusu Lan Sect, Lan Wangji comes out of seclusion briefly. Brother helps prop him up at various tables and leads him from event to event with the ever-present eyes of the cultivation world trailing after them. It is incredibly painful to do even this much, but Lan Wangji perseveres. He is the same stoic and cold Hanguang-Jun that he has always been but that does not seem to stop Sect Leader Jiang from glaring at him. 

He says nothing to Lan Wangji, but when a fussy Jin Rulan is handed to him as they are overseeing the archery competition, Sect Leader Jiang’s glare increases in intensity. It only becomes worse when the caretaker in charge of Lan Yuan for the day appears by Lan Wangji’s side with his teary son close behind her. She quickly explains that Lan Yuan would not stop crying for him and, not knowing what to do, brought him there in the hopes that Lan Wangji would be able to calm him down. Lan Wangji gives her his thanks and nods his head as she excuses herself, holding Lan Yuan close as the boy quiets. He falls asleep not long after that in Lan Wangji’s lap, tired now that he has finished crying himself out. 

Lan Wangji ignores all the eyes trained on him and merely brushes his son’s hair back absentmindedly as he looks to the archers once more. Sect Leader Jiang scoffs not far from him and Lan Wangji spares him a glance to see the annoyance and rage clear as day on his face before ignoring him for the rest of the Discussion Conference.

What Lan Wangji knows from that moment onwards is that no one would have the gall to openly say what they mean when he is near, yet still, he listens closely when he can.

They speak of Lan Yuan’s already apparent beauty and intelligence. They speak of his polite manners and soft-spoken words. They speak of how quickly he developed his golden core and how unsurprising this news was considering who his father is. They speak of his parentage and wonder who his mother could be and how beautiful she must have been to have such an attractive child with Hanguang-jun.

(They always wonder why Lan Wangji never married Lan Yuan’s other parent back when they were still alive.)

No one ever learns of Lan Yuan’s true origins in any case so Lan Wangji allows the rumors and speculations. He does, however, make a point of asking Brother to hand out mild punishments to those who have not learned how to keep their heads and voices low when he is home.

After all, gossiping is not permitted in Cloud Recesses.

A year after Lan Yuan’s arrival in Cloud Recesses, Brother becomes his Uncle.

“A-Yuan, if you continue to practice diligently with the guqin, perhaps we can acquire one for your own personal use?” Brother asks in a somewhat offhand manner that tells Lan Wangji enough of the plans his brother already has in mind for Lan Yuan’s future guqin.

Lan Yuan has been learning how to play using Wangji under the tutelage of Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen, and Lan Wangji. Many of the caretakers that watch over the younger children during the day praise him and mention his talent in passing with their Sect Leader seeing as Lan Yuan’s father is still in seclusion. Lan Wangji doesn’t mind hearing this from his brother. He is rather relieved to not have to think about the rest of the Gusu Lan Sect at the moment.

Teaching his son music and healing slowly is enough.

Raising his hands from the strings, the last notes still hanging in the air, Lan Yuan nods and smiles amiably up at Brother in response to his question. 

“Yes, Uncle,” he chimes, his young, bright voice giving nothing away.

Lan Wangji politely averts his gaze when Brother begins to cry but offers him a handkerchief and presses his arm against his, silently showing him support as he has always done since they were children. He wants to do more but he is still healing and does not know how to go about it properly so he decides that this will have to be enough instead.

Lan Yuan simply stares between them, his smile falling under the weight of his confusion until his lips curve upwards again and he asks if they can go visit the rabbits.

Brother takes him every day for two and a half weeks after that.

Two years after Lan Wangji brings his son home, Lan Yuan calls Uncle his Grandfather because that is what he is and always will be.

Maybe Uncle has never been Lan Wangji’s father by blood or name, but Lan Wangji has been under the impression for a very long time that no one has to say what is already known. Lan Qiren is not the parent his nephews needed as children, but he is the parent they had and he always did his best by them. Though strict and stubborn, he taught and raised them to the best of his abilities.

Uncle oversaw his punishment but Uncle was also the one to stamp out any complaints the Sect Elders had about Lan Wangji claiming a bastard son. Uncle was the one who ordered their sect to contain Lan Wangji and Uncle was the one who demanded alongside the Sect Elders that he be punished. Uncle dressed his wounds and changed his bandages afterward, held Lan Wangji up and helped him go where he needed to go as he healed. And Uncle was the first one to arrange Lan Yuan’s fingers over the strings of a guqin.

Most would consider Uncle cruel for less than half of the things he has done to Lan Wangji in particular and Lan Wangji does, in a sense, think the same. However, Lan Wangji still considers Uncle as the father he was never allowed to meet.

Parents are not perfect and Lan Qiren is no exception to this rule, no matter how hard he tried to emulate it for himself and for Lan Wangji and his brother when they were children. Lan Wangji knows this to be true after two years of fatherhood himself.

In the beginning, Uncle did not approve of Lan Wangji’s sudden fatherhood and knew without a doubt that Lan Yuan was not biologically his. He shared this knowledge with no one though, not even Lan Yuan himself. Lan Wangji does not know if he has truly forgiven Uncle but he does know he need not worry himself about Uncle’s behavior around Lan Yuan. After all, Lan Wangji can very well see how his son softens his uncle’s heart with the mere appearance of his smile and quiet laugh. 

By blood or not, Lan Yuan is Uncle’s grandson just as Lan Wangji and Brother are Uncle’s sons.

So when Lan Yuan says, “Yes, Grandfather,” Lan Wangji is not surprised.

Uncle sniffs in mock disdain, still caught up in the apparent scolding he was giving before about Lan Yuan climbing into Lan Wangji’s lap. After a moment, he realizes what Lan Yuan has said and immediately, his eyes water. Uncle cups Lan Yuan’s face gently, smiling in such a way that Lan Wangji thought was lost. 

He remembers that the last time he saw that smile, he was still the child that crawled into his older brother’s bed at night to sleep comfortably beside someone who would never leave him as their mother had left them. Now he is a man with a son and scars on his body, heart, and soul for the love he lost. 

It is good to see Uncle smile again.

“Stop worrying your Grandfather so much, A-Yuan. Be a good boy for your Father, Uncle, and I,” Uncle tells Lan Wangji’s son.

Lan Yuan hums and nods, smiling a grin that always knocks the breath out of Lan Wangji’s lungs when he catches a glimpse of it. Both Brother and Uncle see it but only Brother looks to Lan Wangji in sympathy as he reaches out to grasp his shoulder briefly before letting go again.

Despite the near-constant ache in his heart and soul, Lan Wangji is glad to know that those who matter are also able to see Lan Yuan’s other father in him as well.

And if later Lan Wangji realizes Lan Yuan pulled the Grandfather card simply to distract Uncle from continuing his lecture, he holds that knowledge close to his chest. Lan Yuan is his father’s son after all.

Both of them.

When the third anniversary of Lan Yuan’s appearance in Cloud Recesses is approaching, the Sect Elders pull Lan Wangji into a meeting where they ask for permission to raise Lan Yuan for him instead so he can become a “proper” Sect Heir.

Lan Wangji says no and storms out of the meeting he recognizes as another form of punishment from the Sect Elders without listening to whatever other nonsense they want to ply him with.

They do not take the hint.

What ensues is a month-long battle of wills that leaves Lan Wangji angrier and more smug each time the Sect Elders attempt to speak with him. They argue that Lan Wangji is still healing and need not concern himself with child-rearing on top of his injuries. Lan Wangji levels them with a flat look, pointedly not mentioning who gave Lan Wangji his injuries, to begin with. Brother claims their concerns are unnecessary and rather late considering how long Lan Yuan has been with Lan Wangji at Cloud Recesses already and how Lan Wangji’s injuries are mostly healed by now anyway. The Sect Elders step around their Sect Leader’s arguments with condescending ease, however, something that Lan Wangji detests to his very core.

They also claim that his grief is affecting Lan Yuan’s development. That his son could flourish under their care with no sadness for a mother he will never meet shadowing him at all hours of the day. Lan Wangji’s brows twitch at their implications, silently daring anyone to say what they actually mean before he refuses once again and strides away. Only Brother stays behind to offer the niceties Lan Wangji is certain none of the Sect Elders rightfully deserve anymore.

It does nothing to stop them from calling Lan Yuan nothing but a bastard child that could ruin their sect if he continues to remain under Lan Wangji’s care the next day. A child born out of wedlock that Lan Wangji was too ashamed to claim until he had no other choice. An unwanted child whose only redeemable qualities are the strength of his golden core, his already apparent cold beauty, and the sharp intelligence he must have inherited from Lan Wangji instead of his beggar of a mother.

Lan Wangji nearly draws Bichen, his fury so great that he regrets not hurting more of the Sect Elders, not standing by Wei Wuxian’s side, and following him until the bitter end so he would not have to deal with any of this when he had the chance. 

But then he thinks of Lan Yuan, of his bright smile, and his twinkling eyes. Thinks of what would have happened to his son if Lan Wangji had not found him and pushes down the incessant ache to be with his soulmate deep down under again.

By the time Lan Wangji has released the hold he has on the hilt of his sword, Brother stands defiantly in the middle of the hall with a vivid look of disgust on his face. He loudly and firmly proclaims that as Sect Leader, they have no authority to overrule his decision of allowing Lan Yuan to remain with his father. Familial matters such as these fall under his domain, even when concerning the Sect Heir as written in their principles. That they have broken many of the rules they adhere so much to in their persistence to remove Lan Yuan from his family. That they have disgraced both the Clan and the Gusu Lan Sect as a whole.

Whatever Brother says after that, Lan Wangji does not know because he leaves as soon as his brother has begun to speak and goes in search of his son. He finds Lan Yuan with the rabbits, burying Lan Jingyi under their fur in the same way that Lan Wangji often does to him when they come by themselves. Uncle is standing nearby, watching the children play and trying not to show his displeasure over the mere presence of the animals since they remain here in the back slopes of Cloud Recesses due to nothing but a technicality.

Lan Wangji’s stride does not falter as he approaches his son and picks him up in his arms, holding him carefully to his chest. He buries his face in Lan Yuan’s hair to ignore the questions Uncle throws at him and the startled yelp Lan Jingyi makes once he notices Lan Wangji’s presence. He focuses on his breathing as the cloud ornament adorning Lan Yuan's forehead ribbon presses into the curve of his neck and his son's soft, natural scent of ash and snow invades his senses slowly.

He stands there for however long, holding his son tight and breathing him in as he wills himself to calm. He reassures himself that A-Yuan will not be going anywhere he doesn’t want to go and slowly comes back to himself. Lan Yuan, for his part, clutches the front of Lan Wangji’s robes and grips onto his father just as tightly without asking any questions.

They do not part from one another for the rest of the night. If Lan Yuan is not in his father's lap, then he is sitting close enough for Lan Wangji to keep a firm hand on his son no matter what they may be doing. During dinner, Lan Wangji takes their food in the Jingshi instead of the dining hall and plops Lan Yuan firmly in his lap as they eat quickly and quietly.

Lan Yuan does not complain once that entire night, only speaking to ask for things like a hug, his favorite lullaby, and Lan Wangji's fingers running through his hair. Lan Wangji sings to his son as he bathes him, firmly instructing Lan Yuan to change into his sleeping robes while he bathes quickly himself. Lan Yuan is sitting on the edge of Lan Wangji's bed when he returns, dressed in his sleeping robes and kicking his feet as he holds out a comb then turning around silently after Lan Wangji has taken it.

By the time nine rolls around, Lan Wangji has successfully braided his son's hair and brushed through his own before he lies them down to sleep. Lan Yuan usually sleeps in the daybed but for tonight, Lan Wangji holds him close to his chest and hums his lullaby to him again even as they both slip into the comfort of their dreams.

The day after, Lan Wangji remains within arm's distance of his son, secluding them in the Jingshi for the day. The itchy desperation he felt the day before has not completely made its way through his system but Lan Wangji is certain it will release its hold on him soon enough. Lan Yuan doesn't complain, even though he does stare at his father in wordless observation while looking much too serious for his young face that Lan Wangji anxiously reassures himself he is not turning his son into a copy of himself.

His son's smile is like the sun breaking through the last of the reluctant clouds that follow after a storm, his laugh so content that Lan Wangji feels inexplicably warm whenever he happens to hear it. Lan Yuan is happy. His son is by his side, safe and sound. The Sect Elders cannot take Lan Yuan from him. Brother and Uncle would never allow it and it is Brother's decision whether Lan Yuan continues to stay with him or not.

For the most part, Lan Wangji is certain that he has won this round with the Sect Elders until almost a month later when Lan Yuan asks to move out of the Jingshi and into the junior disciple dorms instead.

Lan Wangji hides his sadness as best as he can and allows his son to join the other disciples for the beginning of his more serious training, a multitude of feelings he cannot quite sparse through circling within him. Education is important. His son loves learning, he excels in all of his studies and he is happy. Lan Yuan is not leaving him. Lan Yuan is going to continue with his studies, strengthen his golden core, and grow up with Lan Jingyi by his side. Lan Jingyi would never allow Lan Yuan to be harmed. They are very close friends and Lan Wangji is glad that his son has someone who he can share whatever troubles he will not bring to Lan Wangji himself.

This is good. This is what is healthy for his son's development. Even if it hurts him, this is necessary for Lan Yuan to continue being happy as he grows up.

So Lan Wangji helps his son pack up a few of the belongings he wants to take with him, reassuring him that anything he leaves behind will be kept safe for him. That Lan Yuan can return to the Jingshi whenever he needs to. He escorts his son personally to the dorms, stopping at the door to kneel and pull his son in close for another hug.

Physical contact is still an issue for Lan Wangji but he made an effort for his son. Lan Yuan needed physical comfort when he first came to Cloud Recesses considering the fact that he was still recovering from his fever and malnutrition. Lan Wangji pushed his boundaries so he could hold his son close and rock him through his nightmares, imaging just how much better Wei Wuxian might have been at all of this until that hurt too much to think about. Now Lan Wangji has gotten so used to holding his son close that he tends to crave the simple intimacy of Lan Yuan’s small form curled against his chest more often than not.

Lan Yuan pulls back enough to kiss his forehead ribbon before he steps out of the embrace entirely. "I love you, Father."

Despite his mixed emotions, Lan Wangji smiles back at his son as well as he can manage to and leans forward to kiss his forehead ribbon in return. "I love you, A-Yuan."

After that, Lan Wangji spends most of his free time with Lan Yuan by burying his son under the soft fur of rabbits that Lan Yuan’s first father gifted to him as a teenager.

He cannot guess whether Lan Yuan now remembers the man in black and red that he used to call Xian-gege, but oftentimes Lan Wangji will see Wei Wuxian in the curve of Lan Yuan’s smile, in the sound of his laughter, in the steady grip of his sword. In the softness of his hair, the pout he rarely ever allows to grace his face when he is concentrating, the warmth in his eyes when he meets Lan Wangji’s gaze.

His grief has never left him and neither has his love for Lan Yuan’s first father but he hopes that he is doing well enough being Lan Yuan’s second father. He hopes that if Wei Wuxian were to ever come looking for his son, he would be proud of Lan Wangji for taking such good care of him and raising him as well as he ever could.

Lan Wangji had never originally planned to have children and he became certain of its improbability when he met Wei Wuxian. But then A-Yuan came into his life and the rest was decided from that point on.

It surprises no one when Lan Yuan’s courtesy name becomes Lan Sizhui.

Lan Wangji wonders if that says more about him than he has ever wanted to publicly share. After a brief stint of contemplation, he decides he does not care. He isn’t ashamed. He knows the Sect Elders are still looking for any excuse they can reasonably use to take Lan Wangji's parental rights over his son away from him. He also knows that others speak of how he behaves and looks as if he has lost a wife, how painful it must have been to lose Lan Sizhui’s mother so soon, how only his son has the power to draw him out of his heavy grief. They are wrong, of course, but they are also not.

Lan Wangji lost his soulmate, not a wife or his son’s mother.

At some point though, he ponders over what kind of impact his grief is having on Lan Sizhui.

“Do you want a mother, A-Yuan?” Lan Wangji asks one summer afternoon when Lan Sizhui is almost nine and they have just finished their noon meal in the Jingshi.

Lan Sizhui is of the mind that he is much too big to be called A-Yuan anymore but he allows Lan Wangji to call him that when they are alone. Lan Wangji uses it any time he can get away with it because his son’s first father would have and that is enough reason for him.

Lan Sizhui blinks up at him, confused. “I have a mother?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says because it is technically true, but then thinks better of it. “No, but you can if you want one.”

After all, Lan Wangji would set aside his vow of never marrying if it meant his son could know a mother’s love. He has never been interested in women before, especially not after he met Wei Wuxian, but he would marry one to give Lan Sizhui a mother.

He will always do whatever he has to for his son, even when it is difficult for him - especially when it is difficult for him. There are very few things Lan Wangji will not do for his son and marrying out of obligation isn't one of them.

“No. I have Father, I do not need a mother,” Lan Sizhui finally replies.

Lan Wangji smiles and reaches out to pat his son’s head, his veins burning with the force of his love and adoration when Lan Sizhui smiles back up at him. “A-Yuan is a good boy.”

Lan Sizhui leans into his touch, his smile growing until Lan Wangji feels like he is looking at a mirror image of his son’s first father in the brightness of his grin.

Lan Sizhui is eleven when he learns Inquiry on the guqin.

Lan Wangji listens to him play, correcting him when he strikes a wrong chord and does not allow his son to imbue any of the notes with spiritual power. He has played Inquiry a handful of times himself these past few years. No one has ever answered him before when he did.

Or to be simply put, Wei Wuxian has never answered him before. 

Maybe Lan Sizhui honestly does not recall his Xian-gege anymore, but Lan Wangji isn't sure what he would do if Wei Wuxian were to ignore their son's questions as easily as he has ignored Lan Wangji's desperate and heartbroken ones.

No, simply playing the notes together like this is enough.

Some three years after that, Lan Wangji returns to the Jingshi after feeding the rabbits to find Lan Sizhui waiting for him on the steps.

Earlier that morning he had returned from another night hunt, his report already in Brother's hands by this point. He brought back a gift for Lan Sizhui, a new writing set since his current one was beginning to look worn and Lan Jingyi had told him that Lan Sizhui had mentioned wanting a new one. Lan Wangji had wanted to see his son immediately after arriving but Lan Sizhui was in the middle of his morning meditation at the time and would then have his lectures and sword training lessons to attend afterward. He was content with waiting until his son was free to give him his gift and kiss his forehead ribbon before returning to their regular schedules.

But as Lan Wangji approaches, he wishes he had gone to see his son earlier after all.

It takes him a moment to realize that Lan Sizhui is crying and has probably been crying for a while now if his swollen eyelids are anything to go by. The sight of this evidence alone is enough for anger to spark within Lan Wangji.

No one hurts his son.

"What happened." Lan Wangji demands, his voice searingly cold even as he tries in vain to keep it gentle for his son.

Lan Sizhui wipes the back of his hand under his eyes and stares down at his feet as he murmurs, "Hanguang-Jun."

Immediately, Lan Wangji freezes. Lan Sizhui calls him Father when they are alone or with family. He has never referred to Lan Wangji as Hanguang-Jun in private like this. His son has made it clear on multiple occasions that he heavily dislikes not being allowed to call him Father in public anymore. From time to time, he will slip up and then punish himself for it even though Lan Wangji would never try to enforce a punishment for Lan Sizhui calling him exactly what he is: his father.

Something must be terribly wrong.

"What happened." Lan Wangji repeats, even less gentle this time.

His son winces at his tone but continues to keep his gaze on his feet. Lan Wangji sighs under his breath and reaches down to pick up Lan Sizhui like he used to when he was much smaller. His son is substantially bigger at fourteen than he was as a toddler, but Lan Wangji barely acknowledges his weight while he stands back up. Lan Sizhui goes still in his embrace and remains stiff even when Lan Wangji walks into the Jingshi proper and sets his son down on the daybed he never got rid of after Lan Sizhui moved into the junior disciple dorms.

Lan Sizhui still has not met his gaze. Lan Wangji feels a terrible sensation grip his heart as his son stares dejectedly at the floor in a clear and complete silence that is too defined for Lan Wangji's taste.

"Tea?" Lan Wangji asks properly this time.

A tense moment passes before Lan Sizhui shakes his head.

"A-Yuan," Lan Wangji begins, pausing when Lan Sizhui winces. "Tell me what is wrong. Why are you crying?"

"I heard that you had returned this morning," Lan Sizhui says and it becomes Lan Wangji's turn to wince. His voice is hoarse, his pain undeniable. It hurts Lan Wangji something awful just listening to his son speak. "I was talking to Lan Jingyi about when I should come to see you and-"

Lan Wangji kneels in front of his son, his hands immediately finding Lan Sizhui's. "What happened, A-Yuan?"

Lan Sizhui winces again but attempts to speak anyway. "One of the Sect Elders... He said..."

Even though it feels as if a sword has run clear through him, Lan Wangji waits patiently for his son to continue. He has never been very patient, not exactly, but he learned how to be for Lan Sizhui. He learned a lot for the sake of his son.

"I think he thought we couldn't hear him, but he said... I-" Lan Sizhui tries again, cutting himself off with a hiccup.

Lan Wangji unfurls his son's clenched hands in his lap and looks directly into his face, relieved when Lan Sizhui finally meets his gaze. "A-Yuan."

Tears well up in the corners of his son's eyes, silently making their way down his face. The sight alone makes Lan Wangji lean in closer, holding his son's hands tight. Lan Sizhui's lips wobble, his expression on the verge of crumbling.

"You're not my father, are you?" Lan Sizhui asks, his voice as broken as Lan Wangji's heart feels.

Lan Wangji does not lie. He is incapable of lying directly. He can avoid and sidestep a question artfully, but he has never spoken an untruth. If people misunderstand his answers, that is through every fault of their own for not listening to the meaning behind his words.

"I am," Lan Wangji says simply.

If anything, this seems to make Lan Sizhui's tears increase in frequency. "No. You know what I mean. Please, tell me the truth."

Doesn't his son understand that Lan Wangji has already?

"I am your father," Lan Wangji repeats. "I am your father in everything but blood. You are my son. You are the boy I raised and love as my own because you are my own."

Lan Wangji is not good at speaking. Wei Wuxian was the one who rambled on and squeezed as many words as he could into a conversation. Wei Wuxian spoke as if he was running out of time and needed to say everything he had to say before his time was up. Lan Wangji still to this day does not know if Wei Wuxian somehow knew that he would die young, but regardless, Lan Wangji does his best to channel both what he means and what he says as he continues. Even if words are not one of his strengths, that won’t stop him from explaining everything to his son.

"Your birth parents had been dead for some time when I found you, but you were already mine, A-Yuan. I have never met either of them and yet I thank them both every day for bringing you into the world. You are not my son by blood, but you are my son in heart, soul, and everything else that truly matters. You are the shining light within your grandfather's eye and the warmth in your uncle's heart. And you are the single most important person in your father's life, A-Yuan," Lan Wangji confesses, feeling a weight he was previously unaware of lift from his shoulders as he speaks. "I love you, A-Yuan. I have always loved you. Your origins have never once conflicted with my love for you. You are my son and I will always be your father."

Lan Sizhui tips into his embrace as soon as he has finished speaking and sobs into his chest, no doubt rubbing tears and snot alike into Lan Wangji's robes. Lan Wangji doesn't mind. He kisses Lan Sizhui’s forehead ribbon and rocks him gently in his arms.

(Later, Brother will come into the Jingshi without knocking and will drop kisses across Lan Sizhui’s face. He will avoid Lan Sizhui’s forehead ribbon because only Lan Wangji has the right to touch it but Brother will silently and loudly reassure his son that he is the best nephew in the world and he loves him without fault as well. Lan Wangji will look upon this and smile in that way he only ever does with those he loves and kiss Lan Sizhui’s forehead again before Uncle sweeps into the Jingshi and joins their huddled forms right there on the floor. 

But this will come later.)

For now, Lan Wangji simply holds his son close for as long as is needed and then some.

Lan Sizhui is almost sixteen when Brother orders Lan Wangji to take the junior disciples with him on his night hunt.

It is not the junior disciples’ first night hunt by far but it is their first night hunt with Hanguang-Jun. It is also Lan Wangji’s first night hunt with his son.

The night hunt is very simple. Some low-level corpses have been appearing in the woods around a small farming village not very far away from Caiyi Town. The corpses have been dragging unsuspecting villagers into the woods never to be seen again. A night hunt such as this should be relatively educating and safe enough to expose the junior disciples to.

Lan Wangji can understand why Brother wanted the disciples to accompany him, but it does nothing to dissuade the vague fear he holds for Lan Sizhui somehow being harmed.

He leads the way to the village on his sword, standing tall and stiff. Lan Sizhui is behind him to his right, Lan Jingyi mirroring his position on Lan Wangji’s left. The other juniors fan out behind them, expressions varying from excitement to deep concentration. Lan Sizhui appears calm, the corners of his mouth barely lifted upwards as they ride. Lan Jingyi is all smiles and laughter, joking around with Lan Sizhui and the other disciples alike.

(In a way, Lan Jingyi reminds Lan Wangji greatly of Wei Wuxian but now is not the time to focus on that.)

They arrive in the village quickly and discuss the situation with many of the villagers teeming about in what constitutes as their marketplace. Lan Wangji watches as Lan Sizhui suggests they make camp seeing as the village has no inn and none of the disciples object. 

Cultivators from the Gusu Lan Sect are considered to be well-mannered and too overly polite to whine and complain as any other cultivator would. However, these are junior disciples and Lan Wangji knows how too often the young tend to forget themselves.

After all, Lan Wangji forgot himself and his place often enough once he met Wei Wuxian.

Still, the lack of protest surprises him but he does not allow it to show on his face. He quietly observes as Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi divide up the tasks between the disciples present and quickly have camp set up not too far into the woods where the villagers claim the corpses frequently emerge from.

By the end of the night, Lan Wangji is pleased to see his son and his son’s closest friend take charge and act as joint leaders while they successfully subdue the corpses.

It seems Lan Wangji has much to disclose in his report when they return to Cloud Recesses.

Lan Wangji fixes his son’s forehead ribbon and leans down to press a kiss on it.

“Remember to not wander,” Lan Wangji says as he pulls back.

Lan Sizhui’s face is flushed pink with mild embarrassment, less round than it was as a child but he is nineteen now and his smile is easy, remaining the same as it ever has been. “Yes, Father.”

The other juniors are watching, probably planning to poke fun at Lan Sizhui later when the revered Hanguang-jun is out of earshot. Lan Wangji isn’t worried about this, he knows that none of the juniors do this to hurt his son. If they did, Lan Jingyi would have done something about it already or come to Lan Wangji himself if he could not.

(No one would dare harm Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s son anyway for fear of torture, death, and then possession. Lan Wangji could not protect Lan Sizhui’s first father, but he will not fail in protecting their son.)

Everyone knows Lan Wangji loves his son more than life itself. There is no shame in showing what is already a proven fact. There is no rule against speaking truths when others are not present.

So he allows the corners of his mouth to hint at lifting upwards before his expression returns to blank calm. “I will be nearby. Use the flares only for emergencies.”

“Yes, Father,” Lan Sizhui repeats.

Lan Wangji holds his hand out and Lan Sizhui drops his qiankun pouch wordlessly into it. Another moment passes as Lan Wangji looks through the pouch and assures himself that his son will have everything he needs for the first night hunt he will lead without a senior disciple accompanying them. He nods in approval once he is done and returns the qiankun pouch to his son, patting Lan Sizhui’s head once.

“I await your report,” Lan Wangji murmurs before he steps back so his son may rejoin the other juniors behind him.

“Thank you, Father,” Lan Sizhui says with a bow, smiling as he straightens and walks until he is alongside Lan Jingyi.

When they first left Cloud Recesses that morning, Lan Wangji felt anxious for some reason. No matter what set of robes he put on or how hard he held Bichen’s sheath, he could not resolve the shaky feeling in his chest that gripped his heart painfully when he thought of Lan Sizhui. He had packed quickly once something tried to push him towards the door, relief fluttering through him when that same sensation led him straight to Cloud Recesses’ entrance where the juniors were readying to depart.

During the sword ride here, that feeling would not allow him to keep his gaze away from Lan Sizhui for too long. His son was flying calmly by his side, expression serene as the sun began to rise and they passed towns and forests alike under them. He was bright, filled with the gentle happiness of his life and quiet excitement to be in charge of a night hunt for the very first time. If Lan Wangji happened to glance at him from the corner of his eye, he could have sworn that he was seeing Lan Sizhui’s first father in his place instead.

Now they are here, on the edges of Mo Village, and Lan Wangji feels calm. Calmer than he has felt in a long time. Lan Sizhui looks back at him once, smiling and waving before the disciples round the bend in the path.

Lan Wangji watches them disappear from sight, feeling an all-too-familiar sensation caress his cheek gently before it leaves him be for the very last time.

         Deep within Mo Village, someone wakes up in a shed.

a/n #2: thanks for reading! i have more mdzs content in the works, but in the meantime, feel free to send requests or headcanons to my inbox!

[nocturne-inuyasha-ff]

Nocturne - Tequila Sunrise

Author's Notes: Sorry, no smut here. We can't have that EVERY chapter. Besides, the lovely dovey isn't as satisfying if there is no tension or story behind it. Please enjoy chapter two of my SessxKag story!

Nocturne - Chapter Two: Tequila Sunrise

Rated - M (for suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, and coarse language)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

Kagome dashed through the dense forest aimlessly. She only had a vague idea of where she might be, and she had to hurry. She zigged and zagged around in a generally easterly direction, hoping to come upon a water source.

After nearly a mile of jogging, she finally came upon the river. She sighed with relief. The water ran smoothly here, thank Kami. Further down, the river widened and pushed along with growing force. She pulled the exquisite hankimono loose, still marveling at its exceptional quality. It seemed a shame to leave it here, but she couldn't take it with her either. Just the smell of it would set Inuyasha off into a frenzy unlike any other. And then once he noticed the scent all over her?

She shuddered at the thought and pushed it from her mind. One problem at a time. How could she get back? Perhaps the cold water would shock her system and rejuvenate her ideas.

Determining that the garment could be traced back here by its smell, she left it on and entered the water. The slow current was freezing. It nearly caused her body to go numb, but the numbness only extended as far as her flesh. Guilt and shame racked through her, and the waters were not doing anything to wash that away. She took a deep breath and ducked her head under the water.

Seconds ticked by. Submerging herself was not having the desired effect, but she remained below as long as she could stand. Thoughts raced through her head and memories washed over her in a force mightier than the current downstream.

What had she done? As much as she wanted to be angry with herself, there was also a flood of something else. A gasping breath escaped her when she broke the surface of the water. Submergence was not the answer. So, instead, she deemed it worthy of remaining in the cold water for a few moments more and let the slow waters wash away her sins.

Birds chirped happily in the trees, and she cursed them for their simplicity. They didn't have to worry about jealous hanyos.

Reflecting on her life in the past wasn't as glamorous as she'd hoped. Three years ago she had desired nothing more than to return to the past and spend her life with Inuyasha, the man she had fallen in love with.

After the Shikon no Tama had been wished out of existence, Kagome had been transported back to the present and lived there while finishing school until her wish was finally granted and she was allowed to travel through the well into the past one last time and reunite her with Inuyasha. He'd been there, waiting, when she'd emerged, and she couldn't have been happier.

At first, things had been fantastic; their passion had been as obnoxious to others as it had been intoxicating to them. Their first joining, a first for both of them, had been clumsy, but beautiful. Afterward, they made love incessantly and had been ostracized to the outskirts of the village where others did not have to tolerate the noise. Inuyasha had made a home for them there, and they enjoyed many days exploring one another when they were not busy contributing to the village they called home.

Things were going well but, like many newer couples, sex was one thing, and fighting was another. Sometimes the fights outnumbered the sex, though, the make-up sex had been very stimulating, to say the least. They fought about everything and anything; another reason they had been pushed to the outskirts of the village.

Kagome knew that Inuyasha was stubborn, but she was stubborn as well, and they had a hard time finding neutral ground. Their fights either ended in passionate lovemaking or Inuyasha would sleep it off in a tree.

Kagome blamed herself for many of their fights. Anytime that Inuyasha would cool off away from their home for the night, she would cry herself to sleep. She was angry and embittered and lashing out was the only thing that gave her any solace. Why should she be the only one who felt this way? Despite knowing her own shortcomings, Inuyasha was not guiltless. At times he was too dense to recognize that Kagome was suffering.

As the days passed by, everything around them changed, but Inuyasha stayed the same. People grew older, even Kagome had grown older. She was now twenty-two and knew that she should be settled with a career and a blossoming family; a couple of things that would see her into her sunset years. She was relatively young and shouldn't be thinking about these things yet, but being a miko, she was exposed to the exceedingly low mortality rate of her fellow humans in the Feudal era.

Death was always on the horizon for mortals, no matter their age, and when Kagome looked at Inuyasha, she had difficulty fighting off the growing fear that he would have to watch her grow old and die long before he would even reach his prime.

She'd only had the courage to bring up the topic of her lifespan once, and Inuyasha had tenderly told her that it didn't matter. He would be with her through it all and would likely waste away to nothing after her passing, implying he may take his life once her own had ended. Kagome had felt love swell within her chest when he told her that, but it did little in the following days to diminish her growing doubt. Perhaps if they'd had children, Kagome could settle for the fact that she'd leave something for Inuyasha to remember her by. Except, they had not been successful in that endeavor either.

Kagome had brought with her, from her time, knowledge of medicines in the forms of herbs that would stop her monthly cycle and prevent unwanted pregnancies. She had not used any of those herbal remedies from the moment she'd arrived, though she had shared the concoction with her good friend, Sango, after her fourth child. The woman had a hard delivery, a footling birth, that resulted in Kaede informing her that future pregnancies would not only risk the child's life but her own.

Unlike Sango, who was as fertile as the planting fields, Kagome was not so lucky. Even with all of the lovemaking and nonuse of birth control, Kagome never fell pregnant. She felt that, just maybe, there was something wrong with her. All the fighting and her ever-impending mortality crushed down like a heavy weight, causing her to lash out in pain. Still, Inuyasha was oblivious to it.

Just the night prior, they had fought over something stupid. Inuyasha had brought up something that one of Miroku's brood had done, believing it would lighten the moment, and Kagome snapped at him. Of his two usual reactions, fight or flight, he'd chosen flight that evening, not wanting to deal with her outburst.

It may have also been coupled with the fact that it was his human night, and he did not want to spend his most vulnerable evening in her company while she was feeling somewhat vindictive. He would likely return sometime after midday, giving her and himself time to cool off.

Kagome knew she'd had some time before Inuyasha may return to their home, but hoped that he had not come back early and attempted to look for her. She rose up out of the cold water, now acclimated to the near icy rush and shivered at the cold air as it hit her skin. She'd come to the conclusion that her best bet at getting home without her previous whereabouts being tracked was to follow the river, keeping her bare feet in the shallow banks to mask the scent all the way to the outskirts of the village. She knew that the river paralleled the town, and it was not far from their home, so she began her journey home.

Sesshomaru watched as the woman went under the water. She remained submerged for nearly two minutes, a remarkable feat for a human woman, he supposed. Then again, if she'd been trying to kill herself after last night, he couldn't blame her.

He'd left her shortly after she'd fallen asleep from exhaustion last night. The magic that had coursed through him had finally dissipated, and he'd regained complete control of his faculties. His clothes had been discarded in a pile near to where their bodies had lain entwined, and he quickly fetched them to dress.

The mortal woman still slept soundly upon the ground and Sesshomaru barely afforded a glance to her in a supine position, her breasts rising and falling with each slow breath. He'd reached the edge of the cave and used a hand to part the vines where darkness still lingered outside. She was his brother's problem, not his. He did not have to answer to anyone but himself and sneered at the implication and annoyance at being found in such a compromising situation.

Still, the woman's nakedness weighed upon him slightly and the night was cold. He let the vines fall back into place and turned to the sleeping woman. Her name, he knew, but he was not about to abase himself and acknowledge it. He quickly pulled off his hankimono and knelt to drape it over her. He could afford her nothing more and felt she should be grateful for this kindness when he could just leave her exposed to wander back to her human village and to his brother.

Sesshomaru stood for a moment in the darkness, looking upon her peaceful features. He'd often watched his young human charge slumber and noted upon the similarities. The soft, fragile existence they led that marked their mortality. The young human girl he'd saved and cared for, Rin, now dwelt in the same village as the woman before him. Rin had grown into a lovely young woman and a bright spot within the human community she was now a part of. His visits to her had lessened over time as she found her place among her own kind.

He left the woman there without a second glance. She was no longer of any concern to him. He told himself that again and again, even after the sun rose and he'd found a hidden spot to wait and watch. He convinced himself it was to ensure that he was not implicated in the situation. It had not been his fault; some form of magic had been cast upon either of them, and he made a mental note to find the nuisance and extinguish their life force promptly.

There was the matter of his younger half-brother, Inuyasha. If the runt even suspected that Sesshomaru was involved with his woman, Inuyasha would kill himself in an attempt to avenge his honor, and Sesshomaru believed that killing his flesh and blood, even one tainted with humanity, was beneath him.

Sesshomaru's scent permeated the area around the cave. There was nothing to do for it. After the acts carried out last night, there was a great chance many beasts and yokai alike would be drawn here from curiosity, especially considering that a human still laid within. So, he waited.

Once dawn had breached the horizon, he studied at the cave mouth for movement. It took longer than he would have liked for the mortal to wake. When she finally exited the cave, she looked around wildly and confused before she dashed away. He felt oddly pleased with the woman's ingenuity. He watched her weave through the area to confuse anyone who'd had enhanced senses so that they wouldn't be able to easily follow the trail. It was a laudable effort, but any yokai with half a nose could follow the path.

When she'd stopped at a river, he was doubly impressed. The running water would certainly wash away the scent, and he found himself mildly perturbed by the notion. He quickly chided himself for such ludicrous thoughts. This woman was human and therefore nothing to him. He may have developed compassion, but that had not distinguished his long-held distaste for the dishonor his father had brought upon their lineage by creating a half-breed who could only hold his own in a battle through brute force and lucky swings.

He supposed that coupling with the human was beneath him as well, but he was daiyokai and could do as he pleased with who he wanted. There was no risk in one night, he'd assured himself. The coupling had been a relief in itself, though he'd wished he could have let go of his restraint without the worry of killing her in his intensity. A mere human could never wholly satisfy a yokai, though that certainly did not seem to stop some lesser oni from trying.

The woman left the deeper part of the river and began to trek towards the small village she hailed from. He watched her go, still clothed in the hankimono he had left draped over her. He could catch the scent from where he hid among the trees. It was distinctively hers. His scent had been washed away. He leaned against a tree and closed his eyes, fighting a ridiculous urge to go back and fix that.

Clearing his thoughts, he moved away from the area and began his trek back to his own holdings, intent on finding the caster and ending their miserable existence.

The Onibaba danced around wildly. Her joints did not allow for graceful movements, but the decrepit old woman did not know nor care. What she did care about was playing out before her in her cauldron. Swirling images could be seen if anyone dared to peer in, but no mere mortal nor yokai alike were crazy enough to venture near enough to the crone's dwelling to find out. Her white mane flailed about as she bounced from foot to foot. She hummed a tuneless song and peered back into the bubbling pot. The contents of the pot now resembled a congealed mush that took some effort for the crone to stir.

"Yes!" she said and hopped up on one foot.

The Onibaba was so pleased with herself. It had taken so long for her to complete her spell; centuries now. One necessary component that her spell required had been missing for so long she could not help but cackle with glee anytime she witnessed the results. 

It was her fortune that some peddler had brought her the arm bone from the Inu daiyoukai. She'd only required hair or blood, but the entire unbroken bone from the arm of her hated enemy was more than she could have bargained for. The spell was now promising to be even more potent than planned.

She knew that the Inu daiyoukai felt that humans were an inferior species, undeserving of his time or notice. So far, things were falling into place salaciously. Gazing into the cauldron, she could see beyond the mortal plane. 

Her rheumy eyes glazed over, and she saw what was yet to come. She saw the Inu daiyokai searching her out. Well, let him try. Let him come. The damage had already been done. She only wished to see the events unfold in the following months.

[clock-corpse]

Temporally Cursed

Trigger Warnings for, Nudity, Violence, Gore, Blood, and Disturbing Imagery. Discretion is advised! 

March 1st, 2020

To many human beings, there is a sacred tradition that goes in celebrating even the most mundane of events. Festivities, sweets, and laughter. All of these things are what humans enjoy while celebrating various events. The Inhuman however, has a slightly different method of celebration than others of her kind.

She makes her way down to the library, for a private ritual of sorts with the librarian and her demonic familiar. As she walks, she thinks about the events that will transpire once she arrives. It’s the same every year. She enters, she stays, then she leaves. This year will be no different, despite the doubts in her mind that tell her otherwise. Having been so deep in thought, she realizes that she had been standing in front of the entryway to the library for a minute or two now.

Sighing to herself, Sakuya enters the library. The air is stagnant with nothing but the feeling of dread lingering in the air with not a sound to be heard in the entirety of the vast library. The only signs of life being both Patchouli and Koakuma waiting for Sakuya near a door. They stare at her silently for the day has finally come. The day of celebration, joy, and renewal among human-kind. Yes, today is the day of Sakuya’s birth.

What joy does human-kind find in celebrating a shortened life span? How can they be so blissfully unaware of the looming threat of time? Sakuya does not know, for she is not human.

Swallowing her anxiety, Sakuya steps forward as Koakuma opens the door for her. Once all participating parties had entered the room, she shut it behind her, locking it.

The room they have entered seems no bigger than a normal bedroom. However, there were crystals floating around a nice and well made bed that has several towels covering it.

Without a word, Sakuya starts removing her clothes. She does so slowly and reluctantly as butterflies start to form in her stomach and her blood runs cold. She stops midway, and asks to herself, ‘Am I truly sure about this? I do this every single year but it never gets any easier...’

Noticing that the maid had stopped for a few moments, Patchouli approaches her and gently places her hand on Sakuya’s arm.

“Sakuya? You know if you really don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. It’s not a requirement.” Truth be told, she would much prefer to have Sakuya not to do this every single year. The fact that she does so often makes her rather uneasy.

Sakuya shakes out of her trance and hastily starts to remove her clothes again.

“No, it’s okay. I want to do this, Patchy.” There was no other way to go about it. “I’ve done this for almost two centuries now, and I’m not going to suddenly change my mind.”

At least, that’s what she initially thought before being courted by her Mistress. She knows very well that to see her like this would break Remilia’s heart and it makes her sick to her stomach. That’s why the ritual of Sakuya’s birthday had been held behind closed doors for so long.

With her clothes now neatly folded and placed onto a desk, Sakuya is completely nude. With this, one can see all the scars that she had gained this year and even before then.

The gash marks that were strewn across her chest, the scar on her neck from being impaled accompanied by fang bites, the scars on her shoulder and stomach from dishonesty, the scar on her side from heresy, and of course, the multitude of self-harm scars that decorate her arms and thighs.

She lays down on top of the bed and the towels, nervously twiddling her thumbs as she waits for Patchouli and Koakuma to prepare for their part. With this, she hears a hum as the crystals begin to glow, as well as a the sound of a zipper as Koakuma retrieves various medical supplies from a canvas bag.

After a few moments the witch softly calls out, 

“We’re ready to play our part, Sakuya. Whenever you’re ready, you may start.” Oh how Patchouli hates saying those words, for she never knows just when it will be her last. She is her most valued research after all...no...She’s much more than that.

Sakuya stares at the ceiling for a good few moments, mentally preparing herself for the ritual, then her eyes turn to red. They shine brightly, as Sakuya is determined to see this through until the end, whenever that may be. Not soon after, the sounds of a clock can be heard. 

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.

Oh how beautiful the chime of time is as it dances around the room as if it were moving in sync with Sakuya’s breathing. Oh how it calls so soundly and so passionately. It calls passionately for Sakuya herself. One could be so entranced by the serene sound of ticking that they wouldn’t even notice, that Sakuya’s chest has now ripped open.

Blood starts travelling down her bosom onto the towels, soaking them. Tissue, torn and broken hangs from the flesh that used to make up her breasts. The wound is very reminiscent of the one she received from fighting the manticore. Sakuya bites her lip and whimpers in pain.

Seeing this, Patchouli and Koakuma stand there, save for Patchouli using her crystals to monitor Sakuya’s vitals. They needn’t do anything, for the tissue starts closing up and reforms itself as if there had been no injury in the first place. Sakuya’s breathing becomes heavy as she places a hand on her chest to confirm that it is still there.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock.

Oh how the clock ticks so nicely. One could become so enveloped in what time has to offer, and lose sight of what fate holds for them. But now, the doll has become aware that her arms have been sliced and her stomach has been gouged, for she sits up suddenly and screams in pain.

Cold sweat runs down her face as she holds a bloody hand to the small hole that has opened in her stomach. She remembers this wound all too well. It was caused by her attempt to free herself from the consequences of her actions. Perhaps, she remembers it a little too well, as she can feel her strength fading.

As if it were by reflex, Patchouli positions her hands and starts to chant a spell. The crystals hum louder and energy starts surrounding Sakuya. It is an endurance spell, to keep Sakuya conscious. Had the witch not conjured this spell, Sakuya would have most likely passed out by this point, ending the ritual prematurely.

TickTock, TickTock.

Oh how loud the ticking of the clock is. It continues to grow louder, and louder and tick faster and faster, in Sakuya’s mind. Time no longer hides from a false front of a sweet embrace. Now, it wishes to make itself known to Sakuya, embracing her tightly as a hole opens in her neck, and her back.

The murderer coughs and wheezes as blood comes out of her mouth. She can barely scream, as the only other sound to be heard from her is the sound of her choking on and drowning from her own blood that has collected itself in her throat.

Patchouli acts quickly to try to draw the excess blood out with telekinesis until her wounds close start to slowly close. With the gears of time releasing their grip on her throat, she screams in between coughs.

TickTockTickTockTickTockTickTockTickTockTickTock-

Oh how the clock pounds so loudly in Sakuya’s ears. She cries, and begs for it to stop. Time, will not let go. Time grinds Sakuya’s feeble human body in between it’s gears, mangling her, and her body feels every single second of it. 

Sakuya, bloodied and nude, writhes and screams in absolute agony. Every single ounce of pain that she has ever felt in her life, emotional, physical, psychological. It all returns to her during one single moment. It is during this moment that she wishes nothing more than for the clock to stop and for her to die.

Time wails out for Sakuya to finally return to the dust that made her. She has avoided this fate for as long as she can remember. One cannot stop time, for it will always find a way to finally bring you back to your origins, but Sakuya refuses.

Yes, she rememberes why she does this horrible ritual every year in the first place. It’s for Her. No, it’s for everyone in the mansion. Time and Fate have taken away everything that Sakuya has ever loved ever since she was a child, and she cannot accept it. She will not accept having time take her away from the family that she loves so much. Should anyone steal her away from this life, it would be by her own hand alone.

Whether she ultimately chooses life, or death, she will overcome time and decide her own fate.

Tick, Tock, Tick-

The ticking sound emanating around Sakuya finally stops. She is left motionless on the bed, gasping for air with tears running down her face. She cannot move a single muscle in her body, for she feels nothing but agonizing pain from top to bottom. Her stomach churns with bile inside of it begging for release.

The succubus instantly goes to her and starts wiping the blood off of her, taking notice that all remnants of injuries that she had sustained from the past year have now completely vanished. Her hair has also returned to its original length from over a year ago.

Sakuya hears the voice of the the witch calling out to her trying to keep her awake, but her wounds are too great, and she falls into a deep but temporary sleep.

Sakuya has found the joy in the celebration of one’s birthday. To her, it’s not about cake, candles, or simply another new year or existence. No, to her, it’s about seizing control of her own life. What Sakuya wants most, is to stay in the mansion forever with her family. She will not let a looming threat such as time dictate her life and prevent her from living. That is what a birthday, the celebration of life means to an inhuman.

Happy Birthday, Sakuya Izayoi.

[quantumrpg]

NAME: Ariadne “Ari” Lefebvre AGE: 25 SPECIES: Time Traveler - The Creator OCCUPATION: Owner of Tempus YEAR OF ARRIVAL: 1973 RESIDENT FOR… fort-five years. FACECLAIM: Marine Vacth

t i m e  i s  a n  i l l u s i o n,  b u t  n o t  o u r  s t o r i e s…

The beginning, as most beginnings could often be described, was exceedingly ordinary. Ariadne was born in a small village in France, an unanticipated but welcomed birth to a pair of young, wayward couple who were by all means perfectly ordinary and decent, with ambitions that matched their humbleness, vigour that commanded their hearts. The memory of early childhood to her was sweet and hazy, one of those that when recollected, seemed to be composed of a picturesque likeness with soaring landscapes and a country girl passing flowers for diadems, bathing in the turquoise haze of the many afternoon days she’d spent sauntering about with a book in hand and a whole cosmos contained in her shimmering eyes of sage-green satin. She was a musical girl, a capricious girl. A girl with a smile that never faded yet rarely bursted into laughter—was brilliantly inquisitive and held a determination fuelled by whimsy yet steadfast in the way only a child could be. She was a girl fortunate enough (or perhaps not) that, despite the turbulent time in which she would eventually attempt to write and later learn to read(in that specific order), she had never really known much suffering. For she always remained one step behind corruption while gradually gliding past innocence, even when she was made to flee the post bombing shambles and fields that she had once left her mark all over barefoot, when she was shown death and more—through cold grey gazes of familiar corpses, the fabric that threaded her reality never showed signs of wrinkling. For she thought of all of it as such ordinary things, because how could it not be?

So then she moved from city to city, ruins to ruins, a toddler still, with a mother that shielded her from pain and a father that protected her from secrets a child needn’t know and beyond. And that’s when the real story began—with a shroud of darkness left behind by the war that many possessed but few dared acknowledge; and it started with an overly zealous child, too proud, too smart for her own good, as it often does. Within the carnage of the proceeding eleven months before she found the land of freedom the girl had met two new family members and lost three more, and it was this fragment of memory that would serve as an enduring reminder to her on how eleven months of time could ever have felt remotely significant. Finally, at the tail end of the war when all the chaos and despair had finally half-sunk into her tender consciousness, Ariadne grew increasingly restless. Not because of how she had sensed the waning thrum of her mother’s life or of how hungry she had been as the surviving pair of mother and daughter barely managed to scrap by with food and supplies; but because of how little control she saw over the forces in their lives and the mercilessness of time’s arrow, stripping away humanity and what sustains it in the way a seven year old saw it as it was. Though a last ray of silver lining and a soldier’s patronage would secure a future for the young girl, within a mere seven days after they have arrived at their destination, her mother too, loosened her grip on life while still tightly holding onto hers. It was the winter of 1945, and they were in Michigan.

The man they met then and took them in was supposedly a close friend of her late father’s, whom the girl had never heard anything about until they’ve landed on the shore of the United States. Ariadne, for all that she was eager to learn and see in this brand new land of strangers and apparent safety, still clutched onto in her mind too fervent the desire and ambition to wrestle control over from existence itself. While dainty she poised herself and timidly she spoke with a hint of honest purity that would devastate anyone with half a heart, her eyes had already become accustomed to the certain darkness of understanding things much too soon in a way that is just twisted enough to reflect reality. In this new life she was now given, though, she was quite fortunately granted the opportunity to satiate her thirst for knowing, and knowing more. That friend of her father’s, a lecturer at the University of Michigan, became known as her surrogate father and provided her with all the unconditional care that ought to be the birth right of every child born. While in a disappointing sense, there remained a rift between them until Ari had aged well into adolescence, they formed a considerable bond nonetheless over a mutual respect for higher learning and solidarity over the loss they have both endured.

While life was by no means simple growing up in Michigan post war, the girl who was once nearly extinguished by smoke and debris quickly found some semblance of a child’s attitude to life with meaning upon enrolling in public school. They called her a genius then, the girl with a confident gaze that conveyed too much for her age and a tongue so wickedly precise and more bitter than arsenic. People either furiously disliked her or felt endlessly fascinated by the girl who proclaimed that she wanted to solve the theory (or theories) that governed existence itself—space, time, the human mind and all. She felt empowered by the knowledge she absorbed perpetually through books and papers and quickly she became addicted to that power she felt. She had not ceased to be that storm of lyrical mystery that once flourished on foreign soil; her existence, now forged metallic and carved deeply into the fabric of time conducts rapidly her desire over knowledge and control. And if her human brain isn’t enough, she will build another, and another, and another until she has in her command an entity with such capacity that will allow her to master reality in its entirety.

Her enrolment in MIT was a monumental achievement in such grand ambition but it was still no where close to where she needs to be. That is, until she met the five other individuals with ambitions perhaps not as colossal as hers but were perchance her equal in audacity and will. December of 1963 marked the moment where the history of reality itself will permanently change, for better or for worse—and Ariadne, having never forgotten what it meant to be the one with her strings pulled and moments stolen away, quickly mined through and embraced the shockwave of revolution. She took matters into her own hands to explore the scope of her new abilities: and found out that not only could she now master time, she could also create them. She saw new possibilities, creating liminal spaces where realities are in a sense, under her control, while branches of time and infinite realities are made accessible at her fingertips.

She knew what that meant instantly, and in the span of ten years she had lived through ten thousand, and in the ever increasing amount of liminal spaces she has conceived, people were able to live better lives, left contented and each to their own devices. She was careful, indeed, careful never to bite off more than she could chew or to create irreparable tears in the any of the higher dimensions. But nevertheless she saw the consequences, though more notably the ones caused by the others. She decided then, whatever she would do could not be done while the others are present, while they - including herself - each went their own way. And in 1973 she created a version of New York, originally a pet project that she grew increasingly fond of for reasons ranging from nostalgia to excuses of cultural relevance, but mainly because that was where she had first landed on the American soil, and where millions of others have found a place for themselves too. She met up with the other travellers, her old friends, put on her mask of sincere goodwill and concerns for the greater forces at play—none of which are fake, in truth, and once more united their abilities, intellectual or otherwise, to share the burden of such knowledge including ones regarding those forces beyond any logic and scientific explanation made for human comprehension.

A leader emerged among them, and she followed. While continuing to play her cards close to her chest as she always have, she may be a team player just yet. Or maybe she will wait, wait patiently biding her time, while realising greater forms of intelligence or maybe become one herself. There’s all the time in the world, she had thought, the realisation that reality may collapse was not one she had ever feared she may cause, but was what she had always thought was the reason she stands here today instead. And if not, life then, might have never meant to last and exist in the way it has. The universe’s swan song, and she will be there to watch, she will be there and she will be smiling.

This is what it must feel like to be a god.

t e l l  m e,  a r e  w e  a  p r o d u c t  o f  w h o  w e  u s e d  t o  b e?

She is a young girl’s pure hearted curiosity and the shadow of injustice that beckons forth a lamentation of mercy in the way which a child may perceive. The scent of stale roses atop of overheating laptops flashing through midnight over the weighty tune of an orchestral symphony. She is well mannered speech and carefully edited writing of chaos made orderly, an amused and sincere smirk responding to deep philosophical inquiries. She is daring, optimistic in the ways only those with matching confidence would understand. A wayward soul by every means, but capable and erudite with weaponised beauty, as captivating as an era-defining genius and a tragic hero drunk on insanity. She is a child of time made into a catalyst, unorthodox in the manners she pursues meaning and ruthless in execution. Some braces themselves for inevitable catastrophe, whilst others watch in awe as she dances with graceful obsession, meticulous and decisive, her each determined step in a universe of infinite spotlights but no cheers as she rises and falls to an adagio of evanescent sorrow again yet again, without end. Though just another clog that would one day be lost to history, she is determined to be the epicentre of madness made reality—is she virtue buried deep, or hubris’ reckoning? Perhaps in time, we will see.

[comrade-meow]

There has been an exponential rise in recent years of children declaring themselves to not be the biological sex observed for them at birth.[i] They say they “feel like” and therefore “are” the other sex, or in some cases a mythical sex beyond male or female, or no sex at all.

Teachers, parents and others are told that it is vital to affirm children’s self-declared identities and their “transitions” through which they become their “true selves.” Transitioning will supposedly help children lead happy lives and keep them from killing themselves.

But those claims are not backed up by credible scientific evidence. Transitioning may actually increase the risk of self-harm and perpetuate feelings of unhappiness and gender dysphoria.

Moreover, transitioning causes real physical harm to children, much of it irreversible. This article provides an overview of the ways in which transitioning damages children’s bodies and their health.

SOCIAL TRANSITIONING

When children “socially transition”, they publicly announce a new “gender identity,” disavowing the sex observed for them at birth. Teachers, parents and others are asked to affirm whatever children declare. New pronouns are to be used and children are to be allowed into sex-segregated spaces and programs based on their feelings rather than biological reality.

Most of the things children do as part of socially transitioning don’t directly cause them physical harm. There is one important exception, however: breast binding. The practice of severely compressing breasts is widely practiced by girls who wish to be boys or “non-binary”.

Binding is regularly treated as a benign activity to be supported by teachers, parents, and other adults. Public libraries have even been known to raffle off binders as part of Pride events.[ii] And some universities make free binders available to their students.[iii]

But breast-binding is not benign, and it should prompt concern rather than praise among adults responsible for girls’ wellbeing.

Even websites promoting breast-binding acknowledge the damage it does. “Prideinpractice.org” refers to shortness of breath, skin damage, musculoskeletal damage, rib bruising and fractures, overheating, and lung damage.[iv] A 2017 study by researchers at the Boston University School of Medicine found that 97.2% of a group of 1800 women who bound their breasts, reported at least one negative physical symptom, such as back pain, overheating, chest pain and shortness of breath. Other symptoms included numbness, bad posture, and lightheadedness.[v]

Accounts from those who bind their breasts and from the adults who care for them are sobering.[vi]

A 17-year-old who has bound her breasts daily since age 13 describes maximizing compression by buying a binder one size too small and wearing it at night. “My arms and hands would feel numb and tingly off and on,” she says, “from how tight the material was around that area.” Removal of the binder revealed skin that was “severely chafed and raw.”

Tami Staas, president of a Trans Youth and Parent Organization in Arizona notes that her 12-year-old daughter “had trouble in gym class and breathing trouble.” According to Staas, “[I]t was like trying to run a marathon in a tight bustier.” Using male pronouns for her daughter, Staas says “It was difficult to watch him cause himself physical pain in order to be comfortable in his own skin.”

Brie Jontry describes how her daughter stopped running, rock climbing, backpacking, and swimming, when she started binding. “We would go for our evening walk and she would get winded and dizzy,” Jontry says. “She stopped climbing trees. She stopped doing things where any degree of upper-body flexibility was important.” Binding, Jontry says, “encourages the idea that people’s distress and anger and trauma should be turned inward toward their own bodies instead of outward toward the culture that feels oppressive to them.”

Many medical associations are turning a blind eye to the harmful impacts of breast-binding. The American Academy of Pediatrics advocates a “gender affirmative care model” and takes no official position on binding, for example. Thus, instead of receiving guidance from adults that steers them away from self-harm, and that enables them to participate fully and safely in physical activities like sports, girls are being affirmed in self-harming and self-limiting behaviors.

Breast-binding causes immediate physical harm to children. It also puts them on a path to medicalized transition, which causes further physical harm. Most of the binder-using patients of Dr. John Steever at Mt. Sinai Adolescent Health Center in Manhattan tell him “the next things they want to do, like testosterone, mastectomy and maybe phalloplasty.” (Phalloplasty is a multistage surgery that irreversibly damages female genitals and creates a fake penis.)

Other social transition measures, such as insisting on different pronouns, don’t cause immediate physical harm to children. They do, however, prime children for medical transitioning which does directly and severely harm them. Having been told for years that they truly are the other sex, children are unlikely to become comfortable with their actual bodies. Instead they sign up for drastic medical interventions to alter those bodies.

MEDICAL TRANSITIONING

BLOCKING PUBERTY

Puberty Blockers: Background 

Puberty blockers are chemicals given to children to prevent their bodies from going through puberty. They include “Gonadotropin-Releasing Hormone agonists” (GnRHa) and “Luteinizing Hormone-Releasing Hormone (LHRH) agonists”, more commonly referred to as triptorelin and leuprorelin. In the U.S., leuprorelin branded as “Lupron” is what’s generally prescribed.

These puberty blocking chemicals were first developed to treat prostate cancer in men. They are also used to treat endometriosis and uterine fibroids in women where use is limited to 6 months. These same chemicals have been used to chemically castrate sex offenders.

Lupron and other puberty blockers are licensed for blocking precocious puberty in children— that is, puberty happening in girls under 7, and boys under 9. They are “off-label” and not licensed for blocking age-appropriate puberty.

Doctors first used chemicals to halt normal puberty in the Netherlands in 1998, prescribing blockers to a 16-year-old girl who wished she was a boy. Over time, doctors there prescribed blockers to more and more children at younger and younger ages. The “Dutch Protocol” entails prescribing puberty blockers at age 12 (Tanner Stage 2 of development), cross-sex hormones at 16, and surgery at 18. This protocol was developed by scientists who received financial support from Ferring Pharmaceuticals, a manufacturer of puberty blockers. Under the Dutch Protocol, only children who’ve experienced childhood gender dysphoria that worsens at puberty are supposed to receive blockers. Their families must approve and the children must have no other mental health problems.

These limits have not been adhered to in other countries. Puberty blockers are prescribed to children as young as 10 and to children who have only recently expressed discomfort with their sex. And the presence of various mental conditions doesn’t stop doctors from prescribing them.[vii]

Puberty Blockers: Long-term Impacts on Sexual Development

Gender ideology organizations and the clinics they influence have long declared that the impacts of puberty blockers on sexual development are completely reversible. These claims are fabricated out of thin air.

The FDA has not approved Lupron or similar drugs for blocking normal puberty. There haven’t been any randomized controlled studies for such use. Moreover, there’s plenty of cause for concern about long-term impacts.

If puberty proceeds, in males the penis enlarges, has erections, and becomes capable of ejaculation. Mature sperm are produced, which can fertilize an egg. In females, the labia, vagina and uterus develop, and breasts develop and mature. Ovulation begins, and an egg capable of being fertilized is released during each menstrual cycle. Puberty blockers bring all of this to a standstill. Children’s bodies are “frozen” in whatever developmental stage they’d reached when blockers were first used.

Doctors assure children and their parents, that if they decide to go off the blockers, they’ll seamlessly commence puberty. The process will be unfrozen, and the impacts of having blocked puberty will be reversed. But is that really the case? Will children be able to catch up with the sexual development their bodies would have had? Will their genitals and gonads ultimately look and function as they would have in the absence of puberty blockers? The answers to these questions are not at all clear. And the longer a child stays on blockers, the less likely it is that their body will ever develop as it would have in the absence of medical interference.

Further doubt is cast on claims of reversibility by pharmaceutical tests of Lupron used in treating endometriosis in women and prostate cancer in men. These have shown pituitary impairment long after administration of the drug ceases. Dr. David Redwine found in an exhaustive review of the raw data from the manufacturers of Lupron that “62.5% of patients had not regained baseline estrogen levels by one year after stopping Lupron.” In a study of adult males using Lupron for prostate cancer, scientists found that the median average for testosterone levels to return to the normal range, was nine months. Two full years after ceasing Lupron use, a full 26% had failed to regain normal testosterone levels. [viii]

Puberty Blockers: Impacts on Bones

Children treated with puberty blockers end up with dangerously low bone density as compared to their untreated peers. This long-predicted impact has now been documented in a study of children at the Tavistock gender clinic in the UK.

When forced to finally publish some of their findings, researchers disingenuously emphasized that puberty-blocked children experienced no drop in bone density. They implied that simply maintaining density during adolescence is a good thing. It’s not.

“Bone density should NOT BE MAINTAINED during adolescence. It should be BUILDING,” endocrinologist Michael K. Laidlaw explains. “This ‘treatment’ with puberty blockers is leading these adolescents to a much higher risk of early osteoporosis and fractures.”

According to endocrinologist William Malone, “Humans acquire more than half their bone density they will ever have during their teen years. This is the most critical time for long term bone/skeletal health.”[ix]

In the Tavistock study, after two years on puberty blockers, significant percentages of children had bone density levels of clinical concern. An analysis of the data by Dr. Michael Biggs found that for the hip, one third of the children had very low bone density scores (Z-scores below -2.) For the spine, over a quarter had very low scores (below -2, with some even below -3.)

Despite the impact of puberty blockage on bones, Tavistock did not collect data on fractures for children in its care. Biggs heard of one patient who started blockers at age 12 and had 4 broken bones by age 16. If that child’s Z-score was below -2, that along with the history of fractures would meet the diagnostic criteria for pediatric osteoporosis.[x] Nor is there any tracking of long-term impacts after children become adults.

Female pelvic development during puberty affects women’s child-bearing capacity and experience. Estrogen changes the shape of the pelvis, allowing room for a baby to pass through the birth canal. “[T]he female pelvic inlet and outlet become wider and more oval-shaped, the pubic arch develops a significantly wider angle, and the sacrum (or tailbone) becomes less angled so as to not get in the way of the pelvic outlet.”[xi]

It is not known whether restarting puberty after halting it for a period of time will result in a fully developed female pelvis which optimizes the ability to give birth. If the female pelvis does not fully develop, both mother and baby can be at increased risk during birth. Complications can involve oxygen deprivation for the baby, which can be fatal. Mothers with pelvises that are not fully developed risk infection, postpartum bleeding, uterine rupture and obstetrical fistula.[xii]

Some proponents of puberty blockers suggest that children may catch up on bone density when they stop using the blockers. But, as Dr. Laidlaw points out, “We do not know if there is an endpoint to the window of time in which puberty can take place. In other words, if one stops normal puberty at age ten and then allows it to be begin again at age fifteen, we do not know if the signaling mechanism will return fully. There is evidence to suggest it will not.”[xiii]

Puberty Blockers: Impacts on Brain Development

Brains develop during puberty as well. But doctors prescribing puberty blockers to young patients have been flying blind regarding potential impacts on cognitive abilities. And they have failed to track their young patients’ mental capacities over the course of treatment and beyond.

Doctors in Brazil did gather cognitive data for one boy in their care who was put on puberty blockers at age 11. A reduction in Global IQ (GIQ) was observed. “At the end of 28 months of treatment, speed processing and memory remain lower than before GnRHa treatment,” they reported. The patient “presented a decrease in their overall intellectual performance after the onset of pubertal block, pointing to immaturity in her cognitive development.” (Note: the authors used the pronoun “her” despite the fact that the child is a boy.) The authors note that the intelligence tests they used are grounded in “a theoretic and practical presuppose that intelligence grows between the ages of 8 and 16.”[xiv]

These findings are consistent with other human research cited by the study’s authors. They are also consistent with findings in animal studies—the kind of studies that are generally done, given ethical concerns regarding medical research on children.

Researchers from Glasgow University teamed up with Norway’s leading gender identity clinic in a study that compared the performance of sheep in a complex maze which they learned to navigate in order to get food. The “teen-age” sheep who were not given puberty blockers easily found their way through the maze after an absence. Those who were given puberty blockers did not; their spatial memory was impaired.

While the researchers focused on the impacts of puberty blockers on memory, they also noticed distinct emotional impacts. Rams given puberty blockers were more emotionally reactive after blockers were stopped than rams that were not given them. The scientists concluded that “perturbing normal hippocampal formation…may also have long lasting effects on other brain areas and aspects of cognitive function.”[xv]

Chemical interactions in adolescent sheep are comparable to those seen in humans, as is the sort of rewiring that happens in sheep’s brains during adolescence. Intelligence and body mass also make sheep a good species for assessing the potential impacts of puberty blockers in humans.

The implications of negative impacts on brain development are enormous. Reduced IQ, impaired memory, and emotional reactivity can all undercut a child’s ability to learn and function well in the world. There may also be adverse effects vis a vis a child’s gender dysphoria. While most children overcome dysphoria when they go through puberty, those for whom puberty is blocked remain convinced that their sex is not real or appropriate for them. Preventing maturation of children’s brains may trap them in dysphoria. It may deny them the mental maturity to understand and accept the biological reality of their bodies.

Puberty Blockers: Impacts on Social Development and Desistance

Children put on puberty blockers remain immature as their peers go through a normal rite of passage: growing up. This can have serious negative social, psychological, and emotional impacts.

If children feel out of place already due to gender dysphoria, they are not likely to feel less so, as peers develop, and they don’t. Moreover, the message a child internalizes from the puberty blocker experience is fundamentally one of disempowerment. Influential adults could assure children that they have the fortitude to grow and could guide them through the changes and challenges of puberty, but instead they confirm children’s insecurities. They say that “the other children are growing up, but you’re not ready. Other kids make it through okay, but it’s just too hard for you.” The natural process of puberty is cast as something dangerous, harmful, and frightening.

The longer puberty blocking goes on, the more out of place the child on blockers will feel. They remain children in a world of young adults. They retain a child’s view of others, while their peers experience sexual sensations and relationships.

The failure to grow physically, emotionally, and socially is likely linked to an important negative outcome of blocking puberty: it virtually ensures that gender dysphoria will persist. Most gender dysphoric children given a chance to go through puberty end up desisting.[xvi] They become comfortable with their sex. Most who go on blockers move on to other medical interventions.

Gender clinics assure families that puberty blockers are like a “pause button” a child can push to have a little more time to figure things out. But puberty blockers aren’t a Pause button. They’re an “All Systems Go” button for on-going, long-term medicalization.

CROSS-SEX HORMONES

Background

Most children who take puberty blockers move on cross-sex hormones. These generally include, but are not necessarily limited to, testosterone for females, and estrogen and anti-androgens for males.

Endocrinologist William Malone and others warn that it is inherently risky to deliver hormones to children and adults in concentrations for which their bodies are not designed. Trans-identifying people are guinea pigs in a huge uncontrolled experiment. We already have strong indications of some of the problems that can arise.

Heart Attacks, Strokes, and More

Trans-identifying individuals who receive cross-sex hormones have increased risk for cardiovascular events, including strokes, heart attacks and blood clots, according to a study published in 2019 in the American Heart Association’s journal Circulation.[xvii]

The study analyzed medical records of 3875 Dutch individuals given hormones for transitioning between 1972 and 2015. Trans-identifying males were followed for an average of 9 years after starting hormone therapy; trans-identifying women for an average of 8 years. The men (aka “transwomen”) had more than twice as many strokes as women, and nearly twice as many strokes as other men. They had five times as many deep-vein clots as women, and 4.5 times more than other men. Heart attacks happened at more than twice the rate among the trans-identifying men than women. As for women identifying as men, they had a more than three-fold elevation in heart attack risk compared to other women.

Previous studies provide clues as to mechanisms that may be involved in these elevated cardiovascular risks. Triglyceride and insulin levels both increased as a result of estrogen therapy in previous studies, and both are known to promote clogging and inflammation of the blood vessels. Estrogen therapy can also make the blood more prone to clotting, which could explain higher rates of strokes and blood clots among men who take estrogen.

In a review of the book, I Am Jazz, endocrinologist Michael Laidlaw lists some of the adverse health effects associated with cross-sex hormones.[xviii] “Males taking female hormones are at high risk for blood clots, which may be fatal if lodged in the lungs. They are also at increased risk for breast cancer, coronary artery disease, cerebrovascular disease, gallstones, and high levels of the lactation hormone prolactin.” According to Laidlaw, “Females taking male hormones are at high risk for erythrocytosis (having a higher than normal number of red blood cells). They are also at increased risk for severe liver dysfunction, coronary artery disease, cerebrovascular disease, hypertension and breast or uterine cancer.”

PUBERTY BLOCKERS PLUS CROSS-SEX HORMONES

Sexual function

Puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones can significantly impair sexual function. Those who have been chemically treated may find it difficult or impossible to have orgasms.

Jazz Jennings, protagonist in the I Am Jazz book used in many schools, was left with a child’s penis as he entered adulthood. This led him to undergo additional surgeries to create a fake vagina because there was not much penis to work with. (In typical surgeries skin from the penis is used to line the fake vagina.) It also affected his ability to experience sexual sensations. Jazz told his doctor “I haven’t experienced any sexual sensation.” Regarding orgasms, he noted that he hasn’t experienced one. As Dr. Laidlaw puts it, “for adolescent males similar to Jazz who are receiving puberty blockers, I can see little to no sexual function occurring either now or into adulthood.”[xix]

Fertility

It is widely acknowledged that children who are given puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones will likely be rendered sterile. It is also well understood that children cannot grasp the implications of destroying their fertility. As they begin their chemical treatments, few have much understanding of what sexual intercourse entails.[xx]

Dr. Laidlaw explains that “because of puberty blockers, Jazz’s male genitalia are stuck at Tanner stage 2. The estrogen he is receiving will allow for breast development to the level of an adult female. However, his testicles are unable to produce sperm capable of fertilizing an ovum. In fact, it is not even possible to store sperm for use in future fertility, because it has never been given the opportunity to develop within Jazz’s testicles.”[xxi]

Changed Bodies and Voices

Transitioning leads to many other changes in a person’s body which may be permanent. Women who undergo treatments to appear male may always have extra facial hair, deeper voices and other long-term impacts even after detransitioning, for example.

SURGERIES

Many who take puberty blockers and cross sex hormones go on to surgically altering their bodies.

Euphemisms obscure the true nature of the major surgeries young people are undergoing to alter or totally remove healthy body parts. “Top surgery” is a euphemism for mastectomies. Girls and women who receive “top surgery” have their healthy breasts cut off.

“Bottom surgery” for males includes dissecting the penis and other major body alterations. If a fake vagina is constructed, a dilator is placed in it after surgery to keep it from collapsing. For women, bottom surgery can involve hysterectomies (and the early onset menopause that can go with that), removing the ovaries, and major alterations in the urogenital area.

If a male has a tiny penis due to puberty blockers preventing its development, he likely will not have enough skin to line the fake vagina. Options for dealing with this include using a section of the intestine along with the penis skin to make the fake vagina.

The surgeries mentioned above provide only a glimpse at the wide range of highly intrusive operations young adults are undergoing in an attempt to present as the opposite sex. In addition to surgeries focusing on secondary sexual characteristics and gonads, people can sign up for facial feminization surgeries, tracheal shaves, voice feminization procedures and more.

The impacts of these surgeries are formidable and irreversible. When genitalia have been altered, breasts have been removed, faces have been restructured, or other surgeries have taken place, there is no going back. Reversal surgeries can be attempted in some cases, but a person’s body can never return to what it would have been without surgery.

Nor will a surgically altered individual be able to regain sexual functioning that has been lost, or the ability to have biological offspring. By removing testicles, ovaries, and the uterus, young people render themselves permanently infertile.

While sex reassignment surgeries are not legal for people under 18 in some jurisdictions, parents may opt to take their children to other locations where such regulations do not exist. Susie Green, head of Mermaids in the UK, took her son to Thailand for surgery.

In any case, plenty of people under 18 are receiving sex reassignment surgeries.

Look at the chart below from a May 2018 article in the Journal of the American Medical Association.[xxii] Notice the significant number of children under 18 who had had surgery, including many children under 16.

Chest Reconstruction and Chest Dysphoria in Transmasculine Minors and Young Adults, Comparisons of Nonsurgical and Postsurgical Cohorts

This graph was featured in an article about a 16-year-old girl named Penny who had her breasts removed at age 15.[xxiii] She launched a GoFundme page to try to raise money to try to reverse her double mastectomy.

Penny is one of countless young people who regret the irreversible damage done to their bodies by puberty blockers, cross-sex hormones and surgeries.

It is painful to read the words of people regretting their decision to undergo surgeries. Consider this man on a subreddit in 2019, regretting the impacts of sex reassignment surgery done in 2016. He titled his post “Suicidal thoughts. 3 years post-op SRS and still having discharge and pain.” The discharge and pain came from his “neovagina.” “Orgasming is very difficult these days and when I do I feel less than half of what I used to feel down there,” he notes. Dating is described as very difficult, with people turning him down when they hear about him having a neovagina. “I find life very draining these days. I have to clean my vagina with isobetadine to keep smell away and to keep the discharge at bay. I have to dilate once a day still because if I skip days it becomes painful and the tissue feels so sore. I feel like I’m completely on my own on this.” This distraught individual notes that he’s been crying himself to sleep almost every night for a couple of weeks.

See the link in the endnote[xxiv] for an even more horrifying story, this one from a woman who underwent surgery to create a fake penis. The surgery did not go well.

Anyone encouraging children to be on a path that may lead to sex reassignment surgery, should look at photos of what happens in those surgeries. They should read about what surgically-altered individuals experience in recovery and over the course of their lives. They should study the complications that can occur and what those mean for the men and women involved.

FAILING TO ADDRESS UNDERLYING PROBLEMS

There is another harm that comes from affirming children’s gender identities and putting them on a path of social and medical transitioning. Underlying causes for disliking one’s sexed body are not examined. As a result, children don’t receive the help they need.

It is widely acknowledged that gender dysphoric youths are at high risk of having mental health problems, such as depression, suicidality, self-harming behaviors, and eating disorders.[xxv]  

A review of the UK’s Tavistock gender clinic by former staff governor Dr. David Bell, a psychiatrist, found that some children “take up a trans identity as a solution” to “multiple problems such as historic child abuse in the family, bereavement, homophobia, and a very significant incidence of autism spectrum disorder.” [xxvi] The review said that the Gender Identity Development Service (GIDs) was failing to fully consider psychological and social factors, such as whether a child had been abused, suffered a bereavement or had autism, all of which can influence decisions about whether to transition.[xxvii]

According to Sven Roman MD, a specialist in child and adolescent psychiatry, “[r]esearch shows that at least 75 percent of patients with gender dysphoria have other psychiatric problems. In the group of children and young adults, autism, eating disorders, self-harm behavior and abuse are common. For all these conditions there is evidence-based treatment. Given such, gender dysphoria often disappears, as it is usually secondary to these conditions.”[xxviii]

A 2021 study found that young people with gender dysphoria had childhoods characterized by at-risk attachment patterns vis a vis caregivers and high rates of unresolved traumas and loss. The study compared gender dysphoric children to other children receiving medical care for psychiatric disorders. Both groups had similarly high rates of at-risk attachment patterns and unresolved traumas and losses.[xxix]

This study contradicts the “minority stress model” which underlies gender identity proponents’ insistence that families and schools must affirm children’s gender identities. That model posits that poor mental health status among trans/non-binary-identified people occurs as the result of them being victimized and discriminated against due to their identities. The study suggests instead that it is bad childhood experiences that lead to mental health challenges, and to distress regarding one’s sex.

A study of adolescents with trans identities which began after they started puberty, found that 63% had had “one or more diagnoses of a psychiatric disorder or neurodevelopmental disability” before announcing they were transgender. Almost half had self-harmed, and 50% had suffered a traumatic event in their lives such as sexual abuse, being bullied and parents divorcing.[xxx]

The connection between trans/non-binary identities and autism is very strong. A study published in European Psychiatry[xxxi] found that 14% of transgender and non-binary individuals had a diagnosis of autism, and an additional 28% reached the cut off point for an autism diagnosis, suggesting high numbers of undiagnosed individuals. (The control group had a 4% rate of autism.)

Between 2011 and 2018, 48% of young people seen by Gender Identity Development Services (GIDS) in the UK scored in the mild to severe range for autism. Ten percent of the females scored in the severe range, as did 7% of the males. [xxxii]

This is important for many reasons. For one thing, with or without gender confusion, autistic females have a risk of suicide 10 times higher than females without autism.[xxxiii] For another, difficulty in forming friendships, may make autistic children especially susceptible to on-line promises of an always-accepting “glitter” family available to those who believe themselves “born in the wrong body.”

For the perspective of an autistic woman who is grateful that trans wasn’t a big thing when she was an adolescent, read Jane Galloway’s essay “Autistic Girls: Gender’s silent frontier.” Galloway describes the isolation and thinking patterns characteristic of autism which would almost certainly have led her to embrace a trans identity had she come in contact with the concept earlier in life. She describes how she grabbed onto anything that seemed like a solution to the distress she felt when she was young. Unlike other false solutions to her problems, trans identification would have left her with a permanently damaged body.[xxxiv]

Trans advocacy groups have begun to openly acknowledge the overlap between autism and trans/non-binary identification. In Washington State, for example, TransFamilies recently reported that it has teamed up with The Arc, which serves people with intellectual and developmental disabilities in King County. TransFamilies explains that “[p]arents with kids who were gender-diverse and neuro-diverse were showing up in our group in record numbers” and simultaneously The Arc was fielding increasing numbers of inquiries about gender support. Together the groups are launching a program called “Thriving on Two Spectrums.”

In other words, the two groups are greasing the skids to shuttle autistic children forward into a world of gender transition.

The affirmation-only model stands in the way of providing children with the counseling and other help they need to address the roots of psychological problems. Those who seek to conduct psychological assessments and offer psychotherapy are regularly labeled “transphobes” and attacked. Many U.S. states have passed laws making it unlawful to provide psychotherapy to a trans-identifying child in an attempt to help them become comfortable with their sex.[xxxv]

In the UK, multiple resignations by clinicians at Gender Identity Development Services, (GIDS) has highlighted this reality. Those resigning were appalled by the lack of adequate psychological counseling and other problems undercutting the welfare of children in their care.[xxxvi]

Dr. Kirsty Entwistle wrote an open letter[xxxvii] to GIDS director Dr. Polly Carmichael, complaining about pressure placed on clinicians to move forward with puberty blockers and hormone treatments without exploring the roots of children’s distress.

“I wish to make it clear to other Clinical Psychologists that most of the gender identity assessments being undertaken at GIDS are not being underpinned by the psychodynamic approach that the Tavistock is famous for,” Entwistle wrote. “There are children who have had very traumatic early experiences and early losses who are being put on the medical pathway without having explored or addressed their early adverse experiences.…In my Clinical Psychology training and in other services the loss of or abandonment by a parent would be something to be explored and the impact understood but I felt that at GIDS this factor was often minimized or dismissed. I was also shocked by the complexity of referrals. I read many referrals of children who have been sexually abused and many children have witnessed and/or been subjected to domestic violence.”

Entwistle also brought up the socioeconomic circumstances of families seeking medical transitions. “I also felt that [there] was an overrepresentation of the young people who were living in poverty,” Entwistle said. “How is it ethical to undertake a gender identity assessment with the view to a medical pathway when there are children and young people [who] do not have their most basic needs met?”

A new study has reinforced her concerns. The charts of adolescents who medically transitioned were examined to see how they fare in “real life”. “Those who did well in terms of psychiatric symptoms and functioning before cross-sex hormones, mainly did well during real-life. Those who had psychiatric treatment needs or problems in school, peer relationships and managing everyday matters outside of home continued to have problems during real life.”[xxxviii]  

Who are the children encouraged to alter their bodies with puberty blockers, cross-sex hormones and surgeries? Many are particularly vulnerable individuals with serious mental health issues, histories of trauma and loss, and challenging economic situations at home.

Mindless affirmation does not help children. It hurts them. It sets them on a path of irreversible damage, as the roots of their distress remain unaddressed.

THE INADEQUATE EVIDENCE UNDERPINNING MEDICAL TRANSITIONS

Those promoting transitions for children insist that even if harm results, it’s worth it. Some compare children with trans identities to children with cancer. If we don’t intervene medically, a child may die, so intervention makes sense, they maintain.

But does transitioning save children’s lives by preventing suicides? Does it make gender-confused children happy in the long run? Studies cited by trans activists on this matter do not provide the documentation they claim. Not even close. For an excellent in-depth review of the limited research relied upon by affirmation-only advocates and what it actually shows, see Transgender Trend’s article, Suicide Facts and Myths.[xxxix]  

That article also delves into some of the evidence that medical transitioning may actually increase the psychological problems and distress of trans-identifying children. Data from the Tavistock clinic in the UK shows that after a year on puberty blockers, girls experienced more behavioral and emotional problems. They expressed more dissatisfaction with their bodies, and there were significant increases in the numbers of children saying they deliberately tried to hurt or kill themselves.[xl]

The inadequacy of the evidence underlying medical transition protocols has become clearer and clearer in recent years. Various comprehensive reviews have found the evidence relied upon by those pushing for the transing of children to be of very low quality.[xli] Meanwhile key studies widely quoted in support of medical transitions have been found to contain major errors, which invalidate their conclusions. And a principal author of the “Dutch Protocol” relied upon by children’s gender clinics throughout the world, has published a commentary declaring that the protocol is being applied to young people for whom it was not designed and who might not benefit from it.[xlii]

In the UK a young woman named Keira Bell has successfully sued the Tavistock clinic over the irreversible physical harm she has endured because of its practices with regard to gender dysphoric children. Bell went on puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones and had her breasts cut off in an attempt to become male, and then deeply regretted what she had done. In its strongly worded decision, the High Court expressed surprise at the inadequacy of the gender clinic’s evidentiary basis for its protocols.[xliii]

TURNING THE TIDE

As the veil has been pulled back revealing just how paltry the evidentiary basis is for transition protocols, some major institutions around the world have moved away from those protocols. Sweden’s Karolinska Hospital has ended the use of puberty blockers for children under 16. Finland has issued new guidelines for the treatment of gender dysphoria in young people, which prioritize psychological treatment over treatment with hormones and surgeries.[xliv]

In most places around the world, however, medical transitions of children continue unabated. In the U.S., state laws are being passed which effectively prohibit psychologists from engaging in psychotherapy that aims to help children become comfortable with their sex.[xlv] The number of gender clinics has skyrocketed from 1 in 2007 to at least 65 today.[xlvi] Schools, medical associations and other institutions are enthusiastically steering children towards transitions and censoring the voices of those who object.

This is a medical and child abuse scandal of enormous proportions. It is more than time to change course.

[music-is-love-90]

Chapter 8 for your consideration

Ch. 8:

Eleanor leaned against the pews of St. Anne while Klaus paced in the aisle.

“Kieran’s getting worse.” She said softly.  

Klaus nodded and she sighed.

“Cami won’t ever give up.” She told him.  “I’m afraid she will be devastated…and unprepared for the task that her family shoulders if she can’t find a cure.”

Klaus moved towards her and wrapped her in his arms.

“You needn’t worry, love.” He said softly as she leaned her head against his chest.   “We’ll do whatever needs to be done to help her.”

Eleanor nodded and closed her eyes, melting into her husband’s embrace.

“I love you, Nik.” She whispered.  “I know how she feels a little.  I haven’t really let myself mourn for Kol and Finn since I awoke because I know that if I stop and let myself feel that pain, I’ll be useless to the cause, but I can feel it on the edges when I pause for just a moment and it is all consuming.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Why didn’t you kill those responsible?” she asked softly. “That Elena girl, she still lives. Why isn’t her blood intermingled with Kol’s ashes?”

“She’s of the Petrova Doppelganger line.” Klaus replied simply.  “I needed her blood.”

Eleanor didn’t seem happy with this explanation, but she let it go.  The couple held each other for a few more minutes before being interrupted by Oliver, dragging another werewolf behind him.

“You don’t stop squirming, I don’t care who you know, I’m gonna kneecap you right here.” The Crescent threatened, stopping short as Klaus appeared in front of him.

“When I asked you to bring Cary to me, it was as my guest.” Klaus told him, clearly annoyed.  “Might I recommend you release him before I opt to release you from your mortal coil.”

“I found him like you asked, and he jumped me.” Oliver groused. “Now, his pack’s been going at mine since the beginning of time.  I don’t owe him a thing.”

“Which is why Marcel was able to take this city from you and why I’m considering doing it again.” Eleanor said, approaching more slowly. She ignored Klaus and Oliver and smiled at Cary.  “Hello, darling.  I’m Eleanor.”

She held out her hand and the werewolf hesitantly took it. She pulled him away to sit on a pew as Klaus continued to glare at Oliver.

“The packs should have been united.” He told the werewolf as Eleanor checked on Cary’s health and put him at ease.  “Marcel saw that weakness and he exploited it.  If you seek to rebuild with only the Crescents, you may as well stay in you hovels in the bog!”

He turned away from Oliver and moved over to his wife, who smiled at him.

“There are legends about you in the werewolf packs.” She told him, obviously amused.  

“Are there really?” he asked, leaning against the pew and turning to Cary.  “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of an introduction.”

“Legend says you’re descended from our line.” The werewolf told him.

“The legends are true.” Klaus replied.  “Here.” He pulled his birth father’s ring out and showed it to Cary.  “I understand that this ring was passed down through generations of our family.  I need to know what stone it housed.”

“I never saw it with a stone.” Cary told him.

“Could you ask around, darling?” Eleanor asked, smiling kindly.  “My husband is devoted to the cause of helping his pack and all the others as well, but we need to know what stone this housed to do that.”

Cary looked between them and nodded.  Eleanor smiled and took his hand, squeezing it.

“Thank you.”

Klaus left Eleanor at the church, and she was about to go up to check on the priest, but was distracted when Diego appeared at the door. She waited for a moment, but he didn’t say anything.

“Diego?” she said finally, approaching him slowly.  “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t trust Klaus any further than I could throw him.” He told her, making her stop.  “Elijah’s a dick, but at least I know where I stand with him.  And you, I don’t know you.”

“Okay.” She said slowly.  “Is there a point to this assessment of my family, or…?”

“The point is I don’t know you, but nothing you’ve done since rejoining the world has harmed the vampires of this city.” He continued. “You actually seem to care about the vampires here and if I have to trust someone, you are the only one who hasn’t betrayed me.”

“Diego, I’m confused.” Eleanor said.  “Why are you - ?”

“Marcel approached me.” Diego interjected.

Eleanor started.

“He wants to get the vampires on his side.” He continued.  “He says you and Klaus are holding secret meetings with the witches and the werewolves.  That you’re making deals.”

“Of course we’re making deals.” Eleanor said.  “We’re trying to make a lasting peace, which requires compromise.  As the Original Family, we have an obligation to you and the rest of our communities. We’re vampire, but we’re also werewolf and witch and fae.  We’re trying to bring all of our people into one community.”

“Marcel wants to kick you out, return it back to the way it was.” Diego told her.  “That’s going to appeal to a lot of the vampires who have been used to being in charge.”

Eleanor sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“Don’t tell anyone what you’ve told me, if you don’t mind?” she asked with another sigh.  “If Nik hears, he’ll launch a full out war and if Elijah will go with him because he doesn’t like to be messed with, and that will be to the detriment of us all.”

Diego nodded.

“I can’t promise no one will jump ship.” He warned.

“I know.” She acknowledged.  “Thank you for telling me.”

Diego nodded and a second later, he was gone.  Eleanor sighed and leaned against the pew again.

“Are you okay?”

Eleanor lifted her head to see Cami by the alter.

“Just…politics.” She replied with a rueful smile.  “Turns out controlling a city, not so easy.”

Cami smiled and shook her head as Eleanor took a deep breath.

“I was just coming to check on your uncle.  How is he today?”

“Worse.” Cami replied sadly.  “He’s getting weaker.”

Eleanor walked over and took the other woman’s hands in hers.

“Nik went to talk to Genevieve.” She told her.  “And when that inevitably blows up, I have a back up plan. In fact…” she glanced at her watch, “we might be able to hear the explosion from here.”

Cami just chuckled and shook her head.

In the Coven House, the explosion was bubbling just like Eleanor predicted.

“You came all this way to beg for some human’s life?” the witch scoffed.

“Father Kieran’s time is running out, and he has been an ally to me.” Klaus told her.

“Your ally…and Cami’s uncle.” Genevieve pointed out. “How does your wife feel about you helping dear Cami?”

“My wife cares for Camille as well and would do what needs to be done to help her.”  Klaus ground out.  “Now can you help the Father?”

“Sorry.” Genevieve said dismissively.  “As I’ve already said, there’s no way to undo that hex.”

“Oh, come on.” Klaus shot back.  “You and I both know there’s a loophole.  Isn’t that what you’re exploiting with my wife?”

“Eleanor is only under a curse.” Genevieve replied calmly. “That is entirely different from being under a hex.  I don’t have a loophole for this, at least not among my people.” She trailed off. “Although…I do wonder.  Your mother was powerful.  She would have had access to all manner of spells.  Perhaps I could take a look through her grimoire.”

Klaus chuckled slightly.

“You want to use father Kieran’s ailment as an excuse to look through my mother’s spellbook.  Very devious.”

“Come on.” She wheedled.  “The grimoire is worthless to you.  But with its power, I could solidify my place in the coven.”

“No, I’m sorry, love.” Klaus told her.  “It’s bad enough my mother’s power was consecrated with your ancestors.  The last thing I need is for you to get a look at an entire book of her dirty, little tricks.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Genevieve said dismissively. “Particularly for poor Father Kieran. I guess you’ll be the one to tell Cami.”

Klaus lunged at her and slammed her against the table by the throat before leaning in close.

“You think you have leverage over me.” He hissed.  “I will not be manipulated.”

“Vamisa la visia.” Genevieve hissed.

Klaus groaned and released Genevieve.

“And I won’t be threatened.” She shot back, stumbling away. “And if you try that again, it won’t be you that bears the brunt of my displeasure, but you’re dear wife.  So, between the two of us, we each know where we stand. As long as we can retain that mutual respect, I don’t need for any further demonstrations of power.  Don’t call me again.”

Klaus came into his bedroom to find Eleanor at the dressing table, working on her make up for the party that night.   He came up behind her and pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck.

“How did your meeting with Genevieve go?” she asked, smiling in the mirror at him.

“As well as expected.” He said with a sigh.

“That bad, huh?” she said with a chuckle.

He went and sat on the bed.

“She won’t help us and she wants Mother’s grimoire.”

Eleanor shook her head.

“The last thing we need is that book falling into the hands of the French Quarter Witches.” She said instantly.  

Klaus nodded, but looked thoughtful.

“It could work to our advantage, though.”

Eleanor studied him for a moment and then her face hardened.

“No.” she said immediately.   “No.”

Klaus’s face became stubborn and Eleanor got to her feet.

“I have worked hard to maneuver Cami into a place where she might be able to appeal to Genevieve.” She told him angrily.  “You will not screw this up.  Kieran is more important than your need to get one over on that harlot!”

“She threatened you!” he shot back.  “That cannot be allowed to stand!”

“She threatens me every day!” Eleanor yelled at him.  “If we return a volley every time, we’ll spend every damn day locked in battle with the Wicked Witch!”

“I will not show weakness to her.” Klaus growled.

“You will if that’s what you need to do to get what we want done!” she shouted back.  “We need the witches just as much as we need the wolves and the vampires!  I am close with Davina, but we don’t need to make more enemies than we already have!”

“She is already an enemy!” Klaus sneered.  “We might as well treat her that way!”

“She is an ally until I say differently.” Eleanor declared. “And as the cursed member of this marriage, I declare the right to decide when we piss off the people holding the key to my curse!”

“What is all the shouting?”

The couple spun to see Elijah in the doorway, almost dressed and holding his jacket in his hand.  Husband and wife glared at each other before Eleanor huffed and  sat at the dressing table once more, turning her back on the two men.

“Just a disagreement on the party tonight.” Klaus assured his brother.  “My dear wife doesn’t agree with my choice of tie.  She thinks it will clash with her dress.”

Elijah quirked an eyebrow.

“You two have been yelling at each other for 10 minutes about a tie?” he questioned.

“Eleanor has very strong feelings about it.” Klaus replied.

“Uh huh.” His brother said skeptically.  “Well, I’m almost ready.  Will your…disagreement be settled soon?”

“Yes.” Eleanor said, getting to her feet and still ignoring her husband.  “Both of you out.  I need to get dressed.”

She glared at the two men and they eventually retreated. Eleanor closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  After a second, she moved towards her closet to get dressed.

Klaus walked onto the balcony to find Eleanor leaning on the railing, watching the festivities below.  She was dressed in a blood red gown so dark it was almost black, with a draped back.  He had to stop himself from running his hand down her back.  Instead, he went and leaned next to her.   They stood there in silence, watching the crowd.

“What are you planning?” she asked softly.  “Cut off the hand of who ever she sent to get the grimoire and give it back to her?”

“How did you guess?” he asked.

Eleanor laughed humorlessly.

“I know you, husband.  Even if I’m not sure of this new version who has grown in my absence, I know you.  I know your quirks and I know your ways.  And I trust you.  I just wish you trusted me.”

“Do you know what I did when I left you earlier?” he asked and she shook her head.  “I went and got Mother’s spellbook and got it ready to set the trap.  But instead…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a page from the book, “I got this.  I thought we could give it to Davina.  It might help our cause with her.”

She looked over the page in her hands and pressed her lips together before nodding.

“I do trust you.” He said softly.  “More than I trust anyone, even Elijah.  I trust you with my life and my heart.  It’s just…I’ve been doing this alone for so long, Ellie.”

Eleanor reached over and took his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly.  

“You didn’t need to be alone.” She told him.  “Elijah, Bex, hell even Kol, they all would have been there for you if you would have let them.  But that is the past.  I’m here now and you’ll never be alone again, but you have to let me in.  You have to include me in decisions and you have to trust me when I tell you that something is a bad idea.  This is what I have done for my entire life and we can’t have this argument every time you decide your way is best.  I promise you, there will be time when your way is best.  But violence is not always the answer, despite what you may have learned in the past few centuries.”

“But it’s what I’m best at.” He told her with a charming smile that made her shake her head.

“This is why no one in this town likes us, just so you know.” She pointed out.

“I never said their hatred was misplaced.” He said, shrugging.

Eleanor shook her head again.

“I don’t hate everything about your plan.” She told him. “Laying a trap is a good plan, but if you had talked to me, we could have figured out a compromise.”

“Well, her minion is on his way, so if you have a better plan, now is the time, love.”

“Will you follow my lead?”

Klaus smiled.

“Always, my love.”

Eleanor shook her head and headed back inside and Klaus followed. She headed to the balcony and watched as a male witch walked over to the table where the grimoire lay.

“A little too easy, isn’t it?” Klaus called.  “We’ve been expecting you.”

Husband and wife appeared next to him and Eleanor grinned.

“You’re late.” She told him.  “We have a party to get to.”

[mythicamagic]

Can you explain your reasons for those songs? I think it would be a nice analysis from you and would be v interesting!

Aww thanks! Well, this will again be opinion and interpretation based. No one can tell you what a song means to you, so these songs are just how I personally see them ^^

Warning: This will be very disjointed and ranty in places, I don’t know how much of an analysis you can get from this but I hope you enjoy~ 

Shuu - Do I wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

- This song is slow and has a sensual vibe to it, but beyond that, I somewhat feel like there’s a darker tone underlying it. 

Lyrics like these: ‘Have you no idea that you’re in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week. How many secrets can you keep? ‘Cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, And I play it on repeat until I fall asleep… ‘

- remind me of Shuyui, and in particular, Shuu’s brand of manipulation. Both he and the song lull the listener into a complacent state because of how lazy sounding they are. But the creeping, building vibe of the instrumentation, combined with the singer has menacing undertones behind it’s lethargy, making it perfect for Shuu.

Read more under cut~

Reiji - Arsonist’s lullaby by Hozier or I’ll be Good by Jaymes Young (this one is if Reiji has been redeemed through his development)

Arsonist’s lullaby is like a parallel to when Reiji was a child and burned down Edgar’s village. The song shows different stages of the life of a pyromaniac, childhood, adolescence, adulthood. The first part of the child segment reminds me of child Reiji, in that it describes him hearing voices that he can’t reach or respond to (in the song it could mean he’s schizophrenic, but for Reiji it could mean hearing Beatrix and Shuu who simply won’t hear or ‘see’ him)

The lyrics ‘All you have is your fire. And the place you need to reach’ represent Reiji’s inherent nature to strive for knowledge and acknowledgement. His fire is his intelligence and ruthless set of principles that he expects everyone including himself to adhere to. Reiji is always trying to prove himself, just not in the ‘louder’ way Ayato seeks attention.

The Jaymes Young song is just what it says above, Reiji’s possible redemption through Yui, and his acknowledgement of past misdeeds. Reiji canonically confirms that he burned down Edgar’s village but he does not gloat about it, he simply says he was ‘a child at the time.’ While this doesn’t excuse his actions, it does show that Reiji possibly regrets how he went about his feelings of pent up bitterness towards Shuu.

Ayato - Glory and Gore by Lorde, or Underdog by Kasabian

Glory and Gore is exactly what it sounds like. It has a Gladiator theme and overall links to Ayato in how it’s centred around chaos, and seems to hate the higher ups- the needlessly wealthy who create rules. ‘Dropping glasses just to hear them break’ perfectly describes Ayato to me. He’s been stifled by the royal lifestyle all his life, so the wine glasses are a perfect symbol of excess wealth. 

The royal buy things simply for the sake of doing so. Ayato can break things simply because he wants to. Anything material can be replaced easily, so he’s has never learned a sense of responsibility and actively hates the laws set in place by the rich because of his oppressive, abusive mother.

Underdog is exactly the same, with lyrics like:

‘It don’t matterI won’t do what you sayYou’ve got the money and the powerI won’t go your wayI can’t take for the peopleThey don’t matter at allAnd I’ll be waiting in the shadows‘Til the day that you fall’

Kanato - Blue by Birthday Massacre 

A very yandere sounding song. It talks about the expectation of waiting for someone in a very light, pleasant sounding tone, which reminds me of nicer Kanato, when he’s calm. And then suddenly the tone of the song shifts into a dark voice, showing Kanato’s wrathful side.

Laito - The Hills by The Weeknd

This one might seem a little strange at first glance, but essentially to me, the song is about a secret relationship and booty call. It parallels Laito’s overabundance of pleasure, to the point that he’s become jaded by it.

‘I only call you when it’s half past fiveThe only time that I’ll be by your sideI only love it when you touch me, not feel me’ - shows Laito’s desire for the physical and not to connect emotionally with his lover. He remains in control through sex.‘When I’m fucked up, that’s the real meWhen I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, yeah’

Subaru - Take me to Church by Hozier

Again, this might seem odd. Basically, if you think of these lyrics:

‘The only heaven I’ll be sent toIs when I’m alone with youI was born sick, but I love itCommand me to be well’

- As Subaru thinking the sickness is something he tells himself, and not an outward oppressive force like in the actual song, then it makes sense. Subaru thinks of himself as a monster, so the woman the singer describes would be Yui. She is his catharsis, the 'giggle’ at the funeral, which is his incredibly depressing life.Subaru’s 'sickness’ to him, is that he was born from incest and rape, so the church in this song would be his own thoughts and paranoia. I’m sure servants probably talked about the circumstances behind his birth in the castle and that’s how he found out about it in the first place. The forces working against Subaru could even be his Mother, which tells him often that they’re both unclean monsters, or his father.

'There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin’ - This line sums up Subayui to me.

Ruki - Control by Hasley

Most people think of Ruki as the guy who always has it together, as some sort of Master manipulator. His true self however, is very prone to stress. He’s extremely intelligent yes, but he can get overwhelmed by this stress. This song is questioning Ruki’s control. It reminds me of Ruki as a child, and also him at his darkest point, teetering on becoming a yandere like in his Manservant MB end. 

These lyrics:'They send me away to find them a fortuneA chest filled with diamonds and gold’ - would be talking about the Mukami’s relying heavily on Ruki’s command. They look to him for guidance and to provide the means to survive. It can also mean Karl, who expects him to find and awaken 'Adam’ and Eve’ who are rare treasures.

These lyrics:'And all the kids cried out, “Please stop, you’re scaring me”I can’t help this awful energyGod damn right, you should be scared of meWho is in control?’Are like the orphans or Masters at the hated orphanage, or even Yui seeing Ruki’s true nature, and Ruki imagines himself above them by reassuring them that they should be afraid. Even as a child, he was a sadist.

Kou - Gasoline by Hasley

'Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?’ This song is friggin Kou. He ripped out his eye as a child to try and be less beautiful and appealing to the aristocrats who adored and abused him. This action only makes them love him more however, because of his beautiful 'imperfection.’This whole song is about being jaded by fame and having a high self destruction drive because you’ve been forced to crowd please when you don’t want to. Your true self is something the celebrities would shy away from, because your soul is broken and twisted after reshaping yourself over and over again to please people.

Yuma - Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons

A song about regret and not being strong enough. It’s basically a good way of seeing Yuma deal with his survivors guilt. He’s a very brash and strong character but in the end, his strength was not enough to save his friends.

'You’ll never be what is in your heartWeep Little Lion ManYou’re not as brave as you were at the start’

- This refers to when Yuma was a child and was in a street gang, taking on harsh challenges daily and being brave. Comparing him to a 'little lion man’ is like saying Yuma as an adult is outwardly fierce like a lion but his past guilt turns him into a child or helpless figure. When Yuma can’t protect what is important to him, he falls apart, because his identity is linked with his physical strength. If that fails him, then he’s just the little boy who watched his friends get gunned down. You could even take it as him talking to Yui after he’s ruined things with this line -

‘But it was not your fault but mineAnd it was your heart on the lineI really fucked it up this timeDidn’t I, my dear?’

Azusa -  Hurt Me by Lapsley

‘So if you’re gonna hurt meWhy don’t you hurt me a little bit more?Just dig a little deeperPush a little harder than before’

This song is Azusa, to me. Particularly lyrics like these - 

'Buildin’ up my walls just to tear them downTell me that it’s love, force me to drown’

Azusa is constantly looking for acknowledgement and love but because of his childhood bullies, his mind has been twisted to believe that giving and receiving pain is love. The song is basically Azusa imploring Yui (the listener) to hurt him more, because that way he truly receives her feelings.

Kino - The Stupid, the Proud by IAMX

This one is a little complicated, and has to do with how I perceive Kino. Basically I always thought of him as this ‘chess master’ character who watches the board game if you will. He watches all the other characters fight and scrap among themselves over Yui, while he himself hangs back and plans. This song is basically him describing the other characters struggles, while also talking to Yui. He has a jaded wisdom about everything.

'God is deadWe get to sleep tonight’- This line is like he’s talking about Karl Heinz, once he dies. Kino is very power hungry and wants control of everything, to be in the same position as Karl.

'Exalt yourselfDo it to stay alive’and'Hunt down your futureAnd everything you know is not enough to survive’ - are like he’s directly talking to Yui.

Shin - The Wolf by Fever Ray

This song sounds both like a tribal war song and a ritual. Since the Tsukinamis are much older than the other characters, I feel like they have more of a tie to ancient rites and nature. This song has a lot of ties to wolves and kidnapping, but it also sounds tense and hungry. It’s unusual and chaotic, which I think fits Shin.

Carla - Feral Love by Chelsea Wolfe

This song to me, feels like a companion piece to Shin’s, which is fitting. Unlike 'The Wolf’ which sounds like a group or pack of people holding a ritual, Feral Love is very singular and isolated. It’s about a lone hunter vs prey, and the beat of the music is very cold and calculated. 

'Your eyes, black like an animal’ - can refer to someone with no feelings. While Carla does have feelings, he’s very goal orientated and knows what to prioritise.'And care for no one, but the offspring of your might’ - refers to Carla only wanting Yui for her body. He only wants offspring from her.

Yui - Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood and Undenied by Portishead (for when she has feelings for one of the boys)

Not enough people talk about how Yui must feel, being abandoned by her father. It wasn’t even her estranged father, no, this guy raised her. Imagine loving your parent figure, only to hear that they might be involved with your being held captive and abused. ‘Daddy Issues’ basically has her crying over that. Despite how much she tries to stay positive, this betrayal would be a massive punch in the gut for anyone to experience. 

In some routes, she does try to stay loyal to the memory of her father, believing her staying with Sakamaki’s must be mistake. However, in some like Azusa’s, she meets her father again and has all her fears confirmed. Her father even tries to shoot her.

Undenied is basically Yui having a crisis of self because she’s fallen for one of the boys despite what they do to her.

Mukami brothers - Getting Nowhere by Magnetic Man

Talks about facing a struggle. If we think of it like the Mukami’s struggling for freedom or to please Karl Heinz, then it makes sense. They’ve been shoved in the dirt so often as children that being given such a large responsibility like finding Adam and Eve by a 'higher power’ makes them feel important.

Sakamaki brothers - Ready Aim Fire! by Imagine Dragons

'Off in the distance, there is resistanceBubbling up and festering’ - Basically shows how, contrary to the Mukami’s, the Sakamaki’s dislike being under the higher power’s thumb and control. They’re resistant to any rules set in place by their father or authority figures because of their childhoods.

'How come I’ve never seen your face around here?I know every single face around here’ - refers to Yui arriving.

[babelrpg-blog]

below the cut, you will find admin Roman’s sample application for Ted Tonks to give you an idea of what we’re looking for in an app. applications will not be posted in full, when we post acceptances.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

Name: Roman Age: 24 Pronouns: they/them Timezone: EST Activity: pretty high, I’m usually able to do a few replies everyday unless work really kicks my ass, in which case it will be every other day, but I’m always around on mobile for messaging! Triggers: [redacted]

BASICS:

Character name: Edward “Ted” Morgan Tonks Gender and pronouns: genderqueer, they/them Date of birth: July 1, 1955

There are some things that have always remained, and they do truly still believe in the power of looking to the stars for guidance, something that their parents taught them from a young age. Because of this––or because of the stars themselves––Ted embodies all of the traits of a Cancer. They’re emotional and sensitive, and get extremely attached to others. Matters of family are of the utmost importance, and they’re loyal above all to those they care for. At times, they can become selfish and moody, particularly when suffering a perceived lack of understanding from the outside world. Since their time in Azkaban, the negative traits of their sign have been significantly more pronounced than before, the good being pushed to the wayside.

Occupation: the High Justice

Their parents used to joke that they would never be able to settle on a career, that they’d forever be content to float along in life, jumping from one job for another, never staying for too long, always switching from interest to interest. It was like that for a while, anyway. Before the end of the war, they had dozens of odd jobs, everything from potioneer to palm-reader, never for more than a year, and they were happy. But things changed, and once they did, they hadn’t been expecting to ever have another job again, in all honesty, considering they assumed that being sentenced to life in Azkaban meant just that.

But Lily Evans has other plans.

This position was quite literally made for them. They feel certain that if they had refused Lily’s offer years ago, when she came to them in their cell that day, she would have found another muggleborn to fill the position, but with the way things went, with everything they had both been working towards, with the promise she had them make when she managed to have them pardoned, she did this for them. No, that’s not true. She did this for herself. They were just lost and desperate enough to willingly do exactly what she wanted from them. It was all worth it if they would be allowed to raise their child, after all, even if it meant turning into something they wouldn’t have had the capability of becoming before.

And so they took up the gun for her. Using a weapon so supremely muggle, they pass judgement for the Minister. How fitting that they now dispense justice to those who wronged the world, when the reason they became who they are is because of making that same choice ten years ago.

Former Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff Boggart: Dora receiving the Dementor’s Kiss

It changes, but every time it’s changed it’s held one thing in common. Their boggart has always shown someone they love in danger. When they first faced a boggart in school, it was their family; later it was Andromeda, then Andromeda with Alice and Frank. Now the scene they see is of their child suffering the very fate they had come to fear after years among the Dementors. They stay away from boggarts when they can help it.

PERSONALITY

+Tenacious: Since childhood, Ted has been persistent in everything they do, determined and committed. They’ve never been one to hide their opinions or take the easy way out of things, willing to fight for what they believe in, although usually in their own way and not necessarily what others would expect.

+Devoted: They are fiercely loyal to those they care about, devoted to the point of being willing to do nearly anything to keep them safe. This trait led to their downfall, but it’s also kept their family safe from harm since then. They like to think that their dedication to the people they love is what keeps them from becoming a monster, but it’s also caused them to do things they never thought themself capable of.

+/-Emotional: Once, their sensitivity manifested itself in their empathy, in their willingness to be free and open with everything they were feeling, and to help others do the same. Sometimes, that’s still the case, but mostly now, it’s seen in their inability to regulate their emotions at times. They can go from detached and cold, to deeply emotional in the snap of a finger, and often times can’t control themself in those moments, leading to a lot of anger.

+/-Persuasive: They can convince most anyone of anything, really, knowing just how to connect to other people to make them believe they’re truly empathetic and have their best interests in mind. This used to be genuine. Now, it’s more of an act, a way for them to seem more human, more approachable, despite the indifference they feel most of the time.

-Paranoid: Being betrayed by the love of your life changes how you view other people, and ever since Andromeda made the choice to turn them in for their revenge, they’ve been unable to look at most others with anything other than paranoid suspicion. It’s difficult for them to let people in now, unable to give their trust as freely as they did even during the war, because of the constant worry that they’ll be betrayed again.

-Detached: Living surrounded by Dementors for any amount of time changes a person, and living surrounded by them for five years takes away so much that it’s impossible to remain the same as you were before. Before, Ted felt everything deeply and sincerely. They wore their heart on their sleeve, and weren’t afraid to share their feelings no matter what. Andromeda used to joke that they sounded a lot like children’s storybook, with how eternally optimistic they were, how wholesome and full of love. No longer. It’s been so long since they’ve felt much of anything, besides anger. The utter detachment they show in the face of emotion makes them an excellent executioner.

HISTORY

1. It isn’t planned. Anyone with eyes can see that.

They’ve been together since sixth year, but only in secret, hiding their relationship from everyone but their closest, most trusted friends, not even formally living together yet––Ted in Weymouth at their parents’, Andromeda back in London––still planning how best to break the news of their relationship to her family. But that doesn’t mean that both of them aren’t ecstatic when they find out, only a few months after graduating, that they’re going to have a baby. That’s enough for Andromeda to make the choice, and soon enough they’re their own family, married on the beach in Ted’s parents’ backyard two months after Nymphadora is born.

The first few years together out in the open are blissful, so much so that at times they’re almost able to forget the betrayals that Andromeda suffered because of them. She has a new family, after all, one full of love and acceptance and affection, everything that she wasn’t allowed before. And they share that love with their two closet friends, an unconventional relationship to say the least, but one that feels a lot like home to Ted.

2. But war is hard on them. Ted can tell that something’s not quite right with Andromeda, a slow chasm forming between them, but one they can’t seem to do anything about. There are more arguments between them as time goes on, usually about the right course of action, whether it would be safer to run away and live their lives anywhere else, and sometimes Ted wonders if Andromeda regrets her decision. But they always agree that they should stay, even though as the years move forward they suspect it’s not for them, but for her family, for the off chance that they might take back what they did to her, that she might be able to have both lives.

She makes it clear that she doesn’t believe joining in the fighting is worth it. To risk losing them or Dora isn’t worth it, she says, but they suspect it’s something else. Still, they feel the same; they want nothing more than for their family to stay safe, their child to grow up with both parents, in a home as loving as what they’ve managed to give them so far. So they support the Order from afar, and live their lives, watching Dora learn and grow and blossom, all of the best parts of both of them wrapped into a child.

3. There’s this growing unease in their chest, though, as things continue, as they see the pain and suffering of people like them at the hands of people like their wife’s family, and it makes things even more difficult. They want to do something, but they know they can’t, not with Andromeda and Dora to think about. Still, there’s less playfulness between them, more worry shared, more grave looks as the news gets worse and worse, with no sign of a change even as Dora approaches their Hogwarts years.

The attack is the final straw. When they receive the news about Alice and Frank, it feels a lot like something deep within them has broken. And when the healers tell them that Frank will likely never wake from the coma he’s been tortured into, for the first time in their life they truly understand what it means to hate.

Something in the back of their mind tells them that if it had been someone else, they wouldn’t have done what they did. Something tells them that if it hadn’t been her sister, if they hadn’t felt Andromeda slowly slipping away, back toward her family, they would have found a way to move forward. But Bellatrix Lestrange doesn’t let that happen; she taunts them, leads them into taking bait that they should’ve been able to see past. And when they confront her, they do the only thing that felt appropriate. They wrap their hands around her neck and tighten their grip until they see the life leave her eyes.

And then they go to Andromeda and Alice. They look their wife, the love of their life, the mother of their child in the eye, and they tell her that they killed her sister. That they don’t regret it. For a second, they think she might understand. She knows how evil her sister is, everything she’s done; she destroyed Alice’s life. And yet...

It isn’t a surprise when Andromeda makes her choice, when she chooses her family over them, over Dora, over Alice and Frank, though they wish it is. They wish that they don’t expect it, when they see the look in her eyes when they tell her and Alice what they did, they wish that in that moment every single discussion about her family didn’t flash through their mind, the suspicion that, all along, she was just waiting for an excuse to go back to them. But they know as soon as the words leave their mouth that it’s over.

So they leave, take Dora to their parents, drop them off at the little house on the beach they had grown up in, telling their parents that it might be a while before they could speak to them again, but that they want them to keep Dora safe, raise Dora as they had raised them. And then they go back to their flat and wait.

When two aurors they don’t recognize appear at their door, without Andromeda, they feel nothing. When they take them away, no sign of Andromeda in sight, not even offering the courtesy of a real goodbye, a real explanation of what it was that made her choose the family that had abandoned her over the family that had loved her, they feel nothing.

They only start feeling again once they’re sentenced to life in Azkaban.

4. Azkaban changes them at their very core, and it doesn’t take long for it to start happening. No matter how hard they try to resist the feelings, it’s as if they’re watching their happiness slip away moment by moment. The longer they’re in the presence of the Dementors, the fewer happy memories they can recall. They realize it’s happening only a few weeks into their sentence when they wake up and realize they can’t remember clearly what Andromeda’s smile looks like.

After that, memories seem to leave them more quickly.

They’re a goldmine for the Dementors, after all, full of memories of a happy childhood, a beautiful marriage, a life full of love at every turn. So much unadulterated joy, so much for them to feed off of. They can tell that the Dementors like them, from how often they seem to stay by their cell, especially at first. And soon enough they’ve forgotten what it was like to hold Dora for the first time, the feeling they had when they married Dromeda on the beach, the first time Frank had told them he loved them, what Alice’s hair smelled like when they held her close after sex. Every happy memory slipping away.

It doesn’t help that they have a constant reminder of Andromeda in the cell next to them in the form of Sirius Black.

In all honesty, they don’t know how they survive with their sanity for so long. But as time goes on they wonder if maybe it would be better if they lost their mind, too. That way they wouldn’t be able to think about everything else they’ve lost as well. After years, Ted begins to wonder if they’re even capable of love any longer. They wonder if they’d recognize Dora if they saw them, if they’d be able to laugh at their father’s jokes still, if they could smile at Alice. Worse, they realize it doesn’t matter, because they’re alone, and they’re going to be here alone for the rest of their life.

5. That’s not true, though, because five years into their life sentence, Lily Evans appears at their cell door, telling them that she’s found a way to get them out, if they give her something in return.

She wants them to help her fight, help her change things, finally bring justice to all of the others like them, whose lives were destroyed because of Voldemort and his sympathizers, who were hated for their very being. It’s not a hard choice, even though they never were much of a fighter before. Between a lifetime of misery, or fighting for freedom, there’s no question of it.

Five years isn’t a long time, but it feels a lot like a small eternity has passed once they’re on the outside again, a full pardon granted by the Ministry for ridding the world of someone as evil as Bellatrix Lestrange. Everything is different, in the world and their own life. Suddenly, they’re living in a new home without Andromeda, with a thirteen year old child who they barely know, having missed the last five years of their life. It takes some time to relearn how to be a parent, this time on their own, but they think that that’s the one thing that Azkaban didn’t manage to take from them. Everything else is much harder, though, when they feel nothing like themself anymore.

So they focus their energy on helping Lily achieve everything she sees for the future, not for any real passion for the cause at least at first, but more because they have no idea what their life is now otherwise. She sees them as a powerful symbol, a weapon of sorts, and if that gives them something to devote their life to, then they don’t mind being just that.

And it seems to work, on both accounts. They start advocating for Lily’s vision, speaking about their experiences during the war and right after, and things build. It’s a good distraction from the emptiness that they can’t quiet shake from Azkaban, the acute detachment they feel from the rest of the world now. At least they feel like they’re making a difference for Dora’s future.

6. They aren’t happy, but they notice it’s easier to ignore the dark thoughts, somehow, despite the fact that they dispense cruel justice for a living now.

It’s not a surprise when Lily becomes Minister, but for some reason before that moment it hasn’t quite hit them what that will mean for them. In her eyes, their promise hasn’t been kept yet. In her eyes, they have a bigger job to do.

When they’re given their position in the new Minister’s administration, Ted feels strange. Is this what happiness felt like, ten years ago, before it was taken for them? They don’t think so. This is purpose. And this is the opportunity to take the anger they’ve felt in the pit of their stomach since they were released and do something useful with it. 

They tell themself that they’re creating a new world, a better world.

They make the decision to erase certain specifics from their parents’ memories, a decision that they’re still not completely comfortable with, but one they know they have to make if they want to allow their parents to have a happy life. They make them believe that they were wrongfully convicted for the murder, that Andromeda didn’t leave by choice, but disappeared, and that their position in the government is on the Wizengamot. Lying to their parents is difficult––as a child, they never hid anything from each other, their parents their closest confidants––but they know it’s for the best. And they’re surprised to find that Dora seems to agree.

That’s when they start to worry, when they start noticing more and more that Dora seems to have somehow inherited all of the worst parts of them, of Andromeda, too, that they’re more genuinely interested in Ted’s position under Minister Evans than they are themself. But it’s difficult to know how to change it, or if it needs changing at all.

This is a brave new world, after all, and they’re well aware that if things went back to how they were, neither of them will survive.

INTERVIEW

How far would you go to protect those you care about?

At least that one is an easy question to answer, because Ted has answered this very question over and over again in their own mind, since before the war. “I would do anything to protect the people I care about. And I have. I’d die if it meant protecting the ones I love,” they nod, as if that’s that. To them, it is.

If you stood in front of the Mirror of Erised right now, what would you see?

They know exactly what they’d see.

They’d see themself with Andromeda, Alice and Frank, with Dora and Neville, a big, strange, happy family. It feels a little like treason, to admit that they’d see Andromeda standing there with them, arm around their waist, head tucked against their shoulder, considering who she went back to. It feels a little like treason to admit that they still have their wedding ring, sitting in a little box they keep right next to their bed, that in the middle of the night when they can’t sleep they put it on again, and try desperately to remember what it felt like to hold her. So they push that thought aside, and lie. It’s almost too easy to lie now.

“I’d see myself and Dora, safe, happy. Maybe off in a little house down in Weymouth on the beach,” they say, and it’s not exactly untrue, considering it’s something they’d very much like to have. Does it sound too much like they’re unhappy, though? They’re worried it does, always paranoid that they’ll make a misstep, end up back where they were. So they go on. “We are safe and happy now, but things are...stressful at times. I wouldn’t mind a bit of peace, if only temporarily. A vacation, of sorts, really.”

Do you believe that anything is predestined?

“For a long time, I thought so. I thought things were written in the stars. Hell, I still do a lot of the time; old habits die hard. But the stars didn’t say anything about it ending up where I am, my tea leaves didn’t tell me, my palms didn’t say any of this. So now I guess I believe that, to an extent, our lives may be outlined by the universe, but our choices can change it in a heartbeat. Take that as you will, I guess,” they finish with a shrug, an uncharacteristic indifference. Or rather, an indifference that wouldn’t have been normal of Ted Tonks talking about anything related to divination ten years before.

Ten years ago, where did you see yourself today? What would you tell your younger self, if you could?

“That’s a cruel question,” they say with a little laugh, an edge of humorlessness to it. They shift in their seat, though, their discomfort with the question clear.

When they were younger, they had never been one to look to the future, more content to live in the moment and enjoy their time in the moment. But Andromeda had changed that. She had made them excited to think about the future, and by the time they had had Dora, there was little more that they did as they were falling asleep each night than think about what their future as a family would be like.

They saw happiness in their future, then.

And now they’re not even certain they’re capable of true happiness any longer.

“I guess I saw myself still with my wife, didn’t I? I definitely didn’t see myself having been to Azkaban because of her,” they say, voice flat, disconnected. “If I could tell my younger self anything, I would tell myself not to get so comfortable. To open your eyes, and see what’s happening in front of you, and do something to change it, even if it meant temporary pain. There were so many warning signs for what was coming. I ignored them all in favor of trying to have a happy life; it was selfish. And it didn’t work. It just made everything more difficult.”

EXTRAS

inspo tag

patronus- Since Azkaban, Ted is no longer capable of producing a corporeal patronus, but it used to be a German Shepard, who looked like their childhood dog, Lancelot

wand- 12″ pear, unicorn hair, very flexible

amortentia- the ocean breeze, fresh blueberry muffins, something flowery that reminds them of nights with Andromeda, Frank and Alice

likes: summer, English beaches, rose tea, Herbology, Sunday roast, weed, psychedelics, Joni Mitchell, classical music, Freddie Mercury, sleeping naked, poetry, tattoos, spending time with family, 80s power ballads, swimming, stargazing, campfires, forehead kisses, cuddling, being outside in the rain, being barefoot, astrology

dislikes: the middle of winter, close-minded people, vodka, straight people, black coffee, aggressiveness, being alone, waking up early, cold showers, the color orange, birds, conformity for the sake of conformity, cauliflower, hypocrites, having to wear suits everyday, deadlines, hats, small spaces

headcanons

Ted is as blind as a bat, and can’t see anything clearly without their glasses. Unfortunately, they also have a tendency to lose their glasses, which results in a lot of clumsiness, a clumsiness that Dora has inherited. Because of this, they’re very good at minor healing charms, especially since they had a tendency to walk around barefoot more often than not when they were younger.

They bisexual as fuck, and also polyamorous. They grew up on the principle of free love, and practiced just that when they were younger, physical intimacy common with their friends and lovers alike. They’re the one that initially suggested the idea of polyamory between them and Andromeda and Frank and Alice.

The dozens of muggle tattoos that cover their arms and chest started when they were a teenager, and they still add to them now. They have tattoos for Dora, for their parents, tattoos for Alice and Frank, a rare ivy that Frank grew winding up their bicep and the flower that sprouted from it only at night blooming on the cap of their shoulder. They still can’t bring themself to cover the very prominent Andromeda constellation on their forearm, the stylized portrait on their chest.

They have a rather large collection of pistols that they use for their job, most of them decorated with intricately beautiful filigree. In all honesty, guns used to terrify them; their parents are hippies at heart, and raised them in a very anti-violence house. But a lot has changed for them since then.

No matter what happens, Ted always makes certain to be home in time to make and have dinner with Dora while she’s home from Hogwarts. Before Azkaban, dinner was a big deal in their family, always a family affair, the three of them, and at times Frank and Alice as well, gathering together to laugh and share their thoughts. That hasn’t changed, even if it’s just the two of them now.

On a similar note, they still do enjoy cooking; it’s one of the few things they can still find some happiness in. Most of their memories of cooking with their family growing up, and then cooking for Andromeda after Hogwarts, meals shared with Frank and Alice, are faded or tainted now, but they’ve made new memories with Dora since then.

They’re also still very genuinely interested in astronomy and divination, never quite able to break the habit of looking to the stars for answers, searching tea leaves for what is to come. They have dozens of decks of tarot cards, and specific cups dedicated to tea leaf reading.

dora

Dora is currently a 17 year old seventh year at Hogwarts, a Hufflepuff just like Ted was, but with a mischievous streak beyond theirs during their childhood.

The summer that they moved back in with Ted after their time in Azkaban, Dora came out to them as nonbinary, and started using they/them pronouns as well. They had already come out to Ted’s parents, as well as Alice.

They love using their abilities as a Metamorphmagus to explore their gender expression, but have pretty much settled on a look, mostly changing their hair instead of their overall appearance nowadays.

They’re very interested in following a similar career path as their father, a strong believer in fighting for justice in any way they can. Part of them is considering becoming a hit-wix, but Alice has been trying to convince them to become an Auror like her.

Despite everything, they look back at their childhood with fond memories, having inherited the optimism that Ted lost. They remember the time they had with their parents together happily, and only wish there had been more of it, but they liked growing up with their grandparents, liked hearing about how similar they were to Ted when they were their age, liked growing up on the beach their father had. And they’re thankful that they have them now, that they only missed a few years, no matter how vital, because they know that things could’ve been much worse.

In Ted and Andromeda’s absence, Alice became something of a mother-figure to Dora, especially once their Hogwarts letter came in the mail, and their muggle grandparents were a bit out of their depth. Even before, they had seen Alice and Frank as a second set of parents, ever present figures in their life as they grew up, and once Ted was in Azkaban, Alice became their greatest connection to the wizarding world. She took them shopping for their books and supplies, she helped them prepare for Hogwarts.

More than anything, they want their father to be happy again, and they do everything they can to try to keep them from falling into the dark thoughts when they’re home.

[olivetreehugger]

RIP EREN JAEGER

Forgive me, everyone.

I’ve been ruminating over how this would go down for some time. I thought of this headcanon/fic about Eren being sacrificed for his titan abilities. And then I was like...why not make it in Mikasa’s POV?

Then I vomited this out.

She hated him.

She hated the way people looked at him, so sorrowfully, so pitifully. She hated the way he held his head high among them, as if proud of himself. She hated that Eren always got his way in the end, no matter the consequences.

Clutching her swollen belly, Mikasa watched as Eren was marched onto the cliff, wrists and ankles chained together. He was accompanied by Captain Levi Ackerman, their close friend and superior. Levi’s face was sporting its usual cold, dull expression, but his body language spoke differently. He had one hand on Eren’s shoulder; he was not gripping the young man tightly, but gently leading him to his destination, knowing Eren would not try to run.

As Eren reached the middle of the cliff, which had been fashioned into a pedestal where he would kneel on, Mikasa found herself worrying that his trousers might be ruined. A small, whimper of a laugh left her mouth suddenly, and her hand flew to her lips.

She immediately quieted herself and thought, “Get a hold of yourself. You’re losing your mind!”

Mikasa was indeed losing her mind. She had been for many years. It only got worse after learning the truth of Eren’s titan nature, and upon discovering that he was going to die because of it sent her into a depression like no other. She had starved and purged herself because now she had nothing left to lose. After all, how would one feel knowing the person they loved was doomed to die so soon? No, sentenced to die. Her pain had been unfathomable. Mikasa had felt that she was doomed as well, to know only loss wherever she went.

She could count the number of times she beat herself up for not being able to save Eren from himself. One of the most harrowing moments that she could recall was the day he was abducted by Reiner and Bertholdt. She’d been hit on  the head rather hard, and was unconscious for several hours. When she awoke to Armin caressing her hand, her first thought was Eren. Due to her injuries, she was unable to go after him, though it took some convincing on Armin’s part to keep her from going on a suicide mission.

“I just want to be near him,” she remembered saying, referring to the brown haired boy. She recalled asking Armin why Eren was always leaving them. In that moment, she’d finally recognized his selfishness and nearly given up on him.

Plenty of times she had overlooked his passion as aggression, but as the years progressed, Mikasa watched Eren steadily tame himself and use his furor as a fuel for rebuilding the lives they’d lost. He’d become the hero people doubted he would be. He was the backbone of the weapons they’d used to fight the titans, literally, and because of his skill, humanity was able to see beyond the walls for the first time in ages.

However, Mikasa was very aware of the young man’s struggles to control himself and his devastating titan abilities. Shouldering the dependence of thousands weighed on him significantly. At twenty two, Eren had the appearance of someone much older than himself. His once lustrous brown hair was showing signs of gray, dark circles hung under his eyes, and his wiry frame was constantly bent into a tense form. No virile, young man could ever dream of looking like that. But Eren did not share the same future as most young men.

Today, Eren was sentenced to die.

It was March 30th, year 857—his twenty second birthday and approximately thirteen years since inheriting the titan serum from his father. According to the journal left by Dr. Jaeger, when a person acquires titan abilities, they live for thirteen years before their bodies begin to die, like the original titan Ymir. To prevent loss of the Founder, Eren was to be devoured by another human, who would then receive his titan powers and memories.

Mikasa recounted several heated, emotional, and downright violent debates of who would inherit Eren’s coveted abilities, as he possessed not one, but two of the Nine Titans. The more important of the two was the Founding Titan. This titan gave Eren the ability to control titans, erase a person’s memories and maintain the order of all people. Possessing this power was considered akin to being God, which made Eren all the more valuable.

However, there lay a valid argument that this function was not his to keep. The Founding Titan originally belonged to the royal family, and many argued that it should return to its rightful home. Eren was inclined to agree.

A hand touched Mikasa’s lower back and it caused her to jump, snapping her out of the trance.

“It’s just me,” a soft, deep voice whispered into her ear.

The warm air from his breath onto her cold skin caused Mikasa to melt backwards into her husband’s chest. He smirked and circled his arms around her.

“Jean,” Mikasa sighed. “Where have you been?”

The man stroked one of his wife’s arms, saying, “I was with Historia.”

Mikasa turned to look at him. Not suspiciously, but curiously. “How is she?” She asked. Or growled. Both, really.

Knowing his wife was angry with the queen, Jean tried to placate her. “She’s a wreck, Mikasa. Scared out of her mind, hasn’t slept for days.”

Pleased, Mikasa turned back around to gaze at Eren, who was now chained down and on his knees. Levi was kneeling beside him, and much to Mikasa’s surprise, he was cupping Eren’s cheeks and speaking to him.

Mikasa pulled away from Jean and marched closer to the cliff, straining to hear what the older Ackerman was saying. It was difficult though, with them being so high up. There were also others in the room making noise, including the entirety of the Special Operations Squad, and members of the Survey Corps, the Garrison and the Military Police. Many were friends to Eren, and had come to pay their respects. Mikasa glared in their direction, angry that they had the nerve to show up and make light conversation, as if this was some sort of party. No one seemed to notice her, though. Jean did, of course, and he approached the woman with a sad look on his face.

“Honey, look at me,” he said, reaching out to grab her hand.

Furiously blinking back tears, Mikasa refused to take his hand, instead storming past him. “How dare they?!” She muttered. “All the things Eren did for them, and they’re only here to watch him be… devoured!”

Immediately, Jean swarmed around her and held her shaking frame as she sobbed. This wasn’t the first time Mikasa had cried over Eren, but she hadn’t truly come to terms with his fate until what appeared to be now.  

“I-I-I hate him!” She bawled, “Why is he doing this?!”

After discovering the truth about his lifespan, Mikasa made an increased effort to enjoy her time with him. She never wanted to miss another minute. She shared her greatest joys with him, including her wedding, and the birth of her children. And soon, those memories of him would be wiped away with the blood that would be cleansed from the walls of the castle when this was over.

“I don’t…I don’t want him t-to go,” Mikasa sniveled, face buried in Jean’s chest.

“Me either, baby,” he responded gently, stroking her black hair. “He’s gonna be gone, and we’re all gonna miss him. But you know what? We’re gonna remember him, too. He won’t really be gone if we remember him, Mikasa. He’ll always be a part of us.”

Gray eyes looked up at him, filled with surprise and realization. Jean’s eyes were also red, glazed over like a man who’d cried his heart out behind closed doors. Mikasa stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips over Jean’s for a moment, reveling in his comforting taste. He always said the right things.

She raised her head to look at Eren again. This time, he was watching her. His eyes were filled with something Mikasa thought she’d never see again.

It was hope.

==

sorry about the choppy writing. it’s been a while since I last wrote something sad! i feel like this really needs a part two, but idk. ya’ll want a part two? lmk!

[lauramalchowblog]

3 Common Skin Conditions and What to Do about Them

“Love the skin you’re in,” so the saying goes. Sometimes that’s easier said than done. Skin conditions, ranging from mildly irritating to painfully debilitating, are ubiquitous nowadays. Even mild-to-moderate symptoms can take a serious physical and emotional toll.

I started thinking about skin the other day after a bout of nostalgia had me revisiting old reader success stories. Going through the archives, I was reminded how many readers reported that their acne, psoriasis, eczema, and other skin conditions were “miraculously” resolved after going Primal.

I’m not surprised. I’ve always believed that there is a deep connection between skin health, gut health, and inflammation. The Primal Blueprint is designed to support a diverse, well-balanced microbiome, reduce chronic inflammation, and provide epigenetic signals that optimize health. It makes sense that clearer skin would be one of the benefits.

As I perused the success stories, it occurred to me that it’s been a while since we talked about skin issues here. Today I’m going to cover three of the most common, along with some alternative (non-pharmaceutical) approaches to addressing them. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not judging anyone for opting for pharmaceutical options. However, many conventional treatments—antibiotics, oral steroids, hormonal birth control pills, and isotretinoin (sold with brand name Accutane)—have serious, sometimes downright scary, side effects.

Given that, I know many of my readers are interested in diet and lifestyle interventions that might help. They won’t fix all your skin issues, but they’re bound to improve some aspects of your life, even if your skin doesn’t clear up completely.

Acne

Acne is widespread among adolescents and adults. The most common form of acne is acne vulgaris. You’re undoubtedly familiar with the characteristic whiteheads and blackheads usually found on the face, chest, back, and shoulders. Cystic and nodular acne are severe types of acne vulgaris involve large, deep, painful blemishes that take longer to heal.

Acne doesn’t have a single root cause. Sebum (oil) production, pore blockage, bacteria (Propionibacterium acnes), and inflammation each contribute. Androgens increase sebum production, and hormonal changes due to puberty, menstruation, pregnancy, PCOS, or menopause often lead to outbreaks.

As common as these skin issues are today, they are not an inevitable part of the human condition. Grandfather of the ancestral health movement Loren Cordain asserts that acne is basically unheard of in traditional-living societies.1 This strongly suggests that modern lifestyle factors that affect epigenetics, inflammation, and hormones, underlie much of what we see today.

What to Do About Your Acne

Because acne is multifactorial, there is no single magic pill for acne. Sufferers may try a variety of topical, pharmaceutical, and lifestyle interventions before (hopefully) finding the key that works for them. It can take trial and error, luck, and time. There are also a lot of old wives’ tales that send people down all sorts of rabbit holes looking for answers. Many fall into the category of “can’t hurt, might help.” A few are actually backed by science:

Diet

Many supposed dietary causes of acne aren’t substantiated by research. (Chocolate doesn’t seem to cause acne, thankfully.) However, the American Academy of Dermotology (AAD) agrees that two factors matter:2

Glycemic load

Both observational and experimental studies link greater intake of high-glycemic carbohydrates to more frequent and more severe acne symptoms. For some people, acne is significantly improved simply by lowering the glycemic load of their diet.

High-glycemic load diets probably promote acne through several metabolic pathways, including by stimulating insulinlike growth factor 1 (IGF-1) and androgen.3 4 Acne sufferers would do well to moderate their carb intake, especially high-glycemic carbs. The good news is that if you’re already eating a Primal-aligned diet, you’ve probably greatly cut down your glycemic load by removing grains and added sugars, as well as legumes. Fruit can also carry a heft wallop.

Dairy

The AAD recommends that acne sufferers limit dairy intake.5 The available data is observational, so take it for what it’s worth. Still, a recent meta-analysis found that folks who drink more milk are more prone to acne. There was no significant relationship for cheese or yogurt consumption.6 This jibes with tons of anecdotal evidence from people who report significant relief from acne symptoms when they cut out dairy.

What about other food sensitivities?

I can’t tell you how many readers have confided they struggled for years, even decades, with acne before switching to a Primal diet and finally getting relief. Many of them have traced their problem back to gluten. Some are particularly affected by dairy, others by soy. Occasionally, random food sensitivities are the issue.

Despite the preponderance of anecdotal evidence, there is a glaring lack of scientific studies on food sensitivities and acne, so the link remains somewhat controversial. No matter. This is one of those cases where proof is in the pudding as far as I’m concerned.

If you are suffering from stubborn acne, consider what foods may be triggering for you. Start with the usual suspects. Track your symptoms and see if you can spot any patterns. When you identify likely culprits, try eliminating them for a few weeks and see what happens with your skin.

What If Dietary Changes Alone Don’t Solve My Acne?

First things first, look at your gut health. There is a strong gut-skin connection.7 Addressing underlying gut health issues, as well as supplementing with probiotics (Lactobacillus and Bifidobacteria), can reduce acne.8 You have nothing to lose by adding sauerkraut or kimchi to your meals. If you’re not sensitive to dairy, try kefir, one of my favorite sources of probiotics. You can even try doing a yogurt mask since topical probiotic treatments could be beneficial.

Supplementing with certain nutrients might help, too. There is limited evidence in support of zinc,9 vitamin B3,10 and fish oil supplements.11

Finally, work on your skin’s surface. Some people swear by using coconut oil on their face, but it can be aggravating for others. Try topical applications of manuka honey, tea tree oil (diluted), witch hazel, green tea extract, or apple cider vinegar. None of these is likely to be a slam dunk on its own, but use them alongside dietary changes and wise supplementation, and you might just arrive at a winning combo.

Eczema

As with acne, there are several forms of eczema. The most common is atopic dermatitis. Eczema is characterized by dry, itchy, swollen rashes that appear most often on the face, neck, elbows, and knees. People of any age can develop eczema, but it’s more common in babies and children. Up to 20 percent of children and 5 percent of adults are afflicted.12 Doctors aren’t sure what causes it. Rashes seem to be triggered by an immune system reaction, but it’s not clear why. Specific triggers differ from person to person.

Because the root causes are unknown, finding relief can also be difficult and frustrating. Patients are advised to keep affected areas moisturized, avoid detergents and soaps that might irritate the skin, opt for cotton clothing, and take baths with oatmeal or vinegar. Doctors may prescribe topical steroids or other creams or, in extreme cases, immunosuppressing drugs.

Other Ways to Address Eczema

Probiotics?

Studies of infants and young children have found that eczema sufferers have, on average, less microbial diversity in their guts.13 14 Probiotic supplementation, especially with strains of Lactobacillus, may reduce the risk of developing eczema15 and relieve eczema symptoms.16 A 2012 meta-analysis also concluded that when pregnant women supplement with probiotics, their babies have a significantly reduced risk of developing eczema.17

However, a recent Cochrane review concluded that there is insufficient evidence to recommend probiotics as an effective eczema treatment.18 There are so many other benefits of supporting a healthy microbiome that it doesn’t hurt to try probiotics, though.

Coconut oil

Thanks to its antimicrobial and anti-inflammatory properties, coconut oil applied topically to eczema rashes may provide some relief.19 If nothing else, it will moisturize dry skin and smell great.

Acupressure, acupuncture, and massage

A few small studies have found that acupressure 20, acupuncture 21, and massage[/ref]https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/9796594/[/ref] may provide some relief. In addition to physiologic benefits, these treatments may reduce stress, which is known to trigger flare-ups.

Get outside

Your doctor may use phototherapy treatments, but you can also reap the benefits of ultraviolet light simply by getting out in the sun.22 Ultraviolet radiation triggers the release of nitric oxide, which in turn activates T cells that modulate the overactive immune response.23

Dermatologists caution that sun exposure is not recommended for severe cases, and it exacerbates symptoms for some people. Be careful not to overdo it. Besides the risk of burning, getting too hot and sweaty leads to itching and discomfort.

Psoriasis

With plaque psoriasis—the most common form—red, scaly, often itchy or painful patches rise on the scalp, knees, elbows, lower back, or really anywhere on the body. Other types of psoriasis cause red lesions in folds such as the armpit, small dots, or blisters. Psoriasis can also affect the fingernails and toenails.

Psoriasis shares a lot in common with eczema. Doctors don’t know exactly what causes it, but it has a genetic component and is classified as an autoimmune disease. Symptoms come and go, and different people may have different triggers. Doctors usually treat psoriasis with topical creams, but they may also prescribe oral medications to try to get at it systemically.

Unlike eczema, though, psoriasis is more common in adults than children. Up to 30 percent of people with psoriasis develop a related condition called psoriatic arthritis. Because it is associated with systemic inflammation, psoriasis puts you at greater risk for other chronic health conditions such as metabolic syndrome and 24 cardiovascular disease.25

Treating Psoriasis with Diet

Gluten sensitivity is probably more common among psoriasis sufferers than in the general population. I think gluten sensitivity is more common than is generally recognized, but that aside, I’d strongly suggest that anyone with psoriasis try eliminating gluten completely for a period of time.

Calorie-restricted diets also yield significant improvements in symptom severity for obese individuals, but it’s not clear whether that is due to the calorie restriction per se, weight loss, or something else.26 27

If you have psoriasis, you should also limit your alcohol intake. A growing body of evidence suggests that alcohol can worsen symptoms. Psoriasis also comes with a higher risk of liver disease, making excess alcohol consumption potentially more dangerous.28

Supplements

Many psoriasis patients try supplementing with fish oil, selenium, and vitamins D and B12, but there is only mixed evidence that they are actually effective.29 (Vitamin D is commonly applied in topical creams.) They may be helpful for some people, though.

There is also a lot of interest in curcumin, a compound found in turmeric. A number of small clinical trials have yielded some success, but it’s still early. A recent meta-analysis concluded that the available data do not support using curcumin topically, but taking it as an oral supplement shows promise.30

Stress reduction

Stress leads to psoriasis flare-ups.31 Therefore, anything you do to moderate stress may help prevent or manage symptoms. Meditation and guided imagery seem to work.32 Or, treat yourself to an at-home spa day. Start with an Epsom salt or oatmeal bath, then apply some topical treatments using stuff you already have in the house. The National Psoriasis Association recommends using aloe vera, apple cider vinegar, and tea tree oil topically, as well as mahonia (Oregon grape) cream (which you probably don’t have lying around).33

Sunlight

Ultraviolet light, especially UVB, can help with psoriasis symptoms. Certain topical treatments make you more susceptible to sunburn, so check out any medications you’re using.

Acupuncture

A 2017 review of studies involving more than 1,000 participants concluded that acupuncture and acupressure can help with psoriasis.34

General takeaways

Skin disorders are complex. The remedies I mentioned here are not the only ones you might try. Severe or prolonged cases may respond best to a combination of treatments, including medications.

No matter what your specific challenge, the following are always good practice:

Support a healthy gut microbiome through the usual means.

Eat a nutrient-rich diet. Most vitamins and minerals directly and indirectly affect skin health. Vitamins A, D, and E probably get the most attention, but they are all important.

Avoid harsh cleansers and products that might irritate your skin. I have a few posts about Primal skincare, but the most Primal skincare “product” is just plain (clean, filtered) water.

Avoid foods that promote inflammation. If you suspect that food sensitivities make your skin problems worse, simple elimination experiments can provide answers. For skin issues, it’s not generally necessary to undertake a complete elimination diet along the lines of the autoimmune protocol (AIP) or low-FODMAP. However, if you have other symptoms that suggest serious gut health impairment, your practitioner may recommend that you do eliminate a wider swath of foods for a while.

Finally, avoid touching your face as much as possible. That’s just a good idea anyway.

I know I just scratched the tip of the iceberg here. Tell me about your personal successes and challenges. What’s your secret for healthy skin? Maybe your advice can help someone else.

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References

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/12472346/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/26897386/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/12472346/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4769025/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/26897386/

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0261561418301663

https://www.wjgnet.com/2218-6190/full/v6/i4/52.htm

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/23886975

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20666829

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/17147561/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24553997/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6516982/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22831283/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/30860574/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6516982/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/11069570

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK91608/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6517242/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24320105/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22207450/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/30477869/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22813359

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28601680/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/29241748

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5666891/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/31309536

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/29926091/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22004481/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4134971/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/30193251

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/8513683/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/30193251

https://www.psoriasis.org/treating-psoriasis/complementary-and-alternative/herbal-remedies

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28628749/

The post 3 Common Skin Conditions and What to Do about Them appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

3 Common Skin Conditions and What to Do about Them published first on https://venabeahan.tumblr.com

[jesseneufeld]

3 Common Skin Conditions and What to Do about Them

“Love the skin you’re in,” so the saying goes. Sometimes that’s easier said than done. Skin conditions, ranging from mildly irritating to painfully debilitating, are ubiquitous nowadays. Even mild-to-moderate symptoms can take a serious physical and emotional toll.

I started thinking about skin the other day after a bout of nostalgia had me revisiting old reader success stories. Going through the archives, I was reminded how many readers reported that their acne, psoriasis, eczema, and other skin conditions were “miraculously” resolved after going Primal.

I’m not surprised. I’ve always believed that there is a deep connection between skin health, gut health, and inflammation. The Primal Blueprint is designed to support a diverse, well-balanced microbiome, reduce chronic inflammation, and provide epigenetic signals that optimize health. It makes sense that clearer skin would be one of the benefits.

As I perused the success stories, it occurred to me that it’s been a while since we talked about skin issues here. Today I’m going to cover three of the most common, along with some alternative (non-pharmaceutical) approaches to approaching them. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not judging anyone for opting for pharmaceutical options. However, many conventional treatments—antibiotics, oral steroids, hormonal birth control pills, and isotretinoin (sold with brand name Accutane)—have serious, sometimes downright scary, side effects.

Given that, I know many of my readers are interested in diet and lifestyle interventions that might help. They won’t fix all your skin issues, but they’re bound to improve some aspects of your life, even if your skin doesn’t clear up completely.

Acne

Acne is widespread among adolescents and adults. The most common form of acne is acne vulgaris. You’re undoubtedly familiar with the characteristic whiteheads and blackheads usually found on the face, chest, back, and shoulders. Cystic and nodular acne are severe types of acne vulgaris involve large, deep, painful blemishes that take longer to heal.

Acne doesn’t have a single root cause. Sebum (oil) production, pore blockage, bacteria (Propionibacterium acnes), and inflammation each contribute. Androgens increase sebum production, and hormonal changes due to puberty, menstruation, pregnancy, PCOS, or menopause often lead to outbreaks.

As common as these skin issues are today, they are not an inevitable part of the human condition. Grandfather of the ancestral health movement Loren Cordain asserts that acne is basically unheard of in traditional-living societies.1 This strongly suggests that modern lifestyle factors that affect epigenetics, inflammation, and hormones, underlie much of what we see today.

What to Do About Your Acne

Because acne is multifactorial, there is no single magic pill for acne. Sufferers may try a variety of topical, pharmaceutical, and lifestyle interventions before (hopefully) finding the key that works for them. It can take trial and error, luck, and time. There are also a lot of old wives’ tales that send people down all sorts of rabbit holes looking for answers. Many fall into the category of “can’t hurt, might help.” A few are actually backed by science:

Diet

Many supposed dietary causes of acne aren���t substantiated by research. (Chocolate doesn’t seem to cause acne, thankfully.) However, the American Academy of Dermotology (AAD) agrees that two factors matter:2

Glycemic load

Both observational and experimental studies link greater intake of high-glycemic carbohydrates to more frequent and more severe acne symptoms. For some people, acne is significantly improved simply by lowering the glycemic load of their diet.

High-glycemic load diets probably promote acne through several metabolic pathways, including by stimulating insulinlike growth factor 1 (IGF-1) and androgen.3 4 Acne sufferers would do well to moderate their carb intake, especially high-glycemic carbs. The good news is that if you’re already eating a Primal-aligned diet, you’ve probably greatly cut down your glycemic load by removing grains and added sugars, as well as legumes. Fruit can also carry a heft wallop.

Dairy

The AAD recommends that acne sufferers limit dairy intake.5 The available data is observational, so take it for what it’s worth. Still, a recent meta-analysis found that folks who drink more milk are more prone to acne. There was no significant relationship for cheese or yogurt consumption.6 This jibes with tons of anecdotal evidence from people who report significant relief from acne symptoms when they cut out dairy.

What about other food sensitivities?

I can’t tell you how many readers have confided they struggled for years, even decades, with acne before switching to a Primal diet and finally getting relief. Many of them have traced their problem back to gluten. Some are particularly affected by dairy, others by soy. Occasionally, random food sensitivities are the issue.

Despite the preponderance of anecdotal evidence, there is a glaring lack of scientific studies on food sensitivities and acne, so the link remains somewhat controversial. No matter. This is one of those cases where proof is in the pudding as far as I’m concerned.

If you are suffering from stubborn acne, consider what foods may be triggering for you. Start with the usual suspects. Track your symptoms and see if you can spot any patterns. When you identify likely culprits, try eliminating them for a few weeks and see what happens with your skin.

What If Dietary Changes Alone Don’t Solve My Acne?

First things first, look at your gut health. There is a strong gut-skin connection.7 Addressing underlying gut health issues, as well as supplementing with probiotics (Lactobacillus and Bifidobacteria), can reduce acne.8 You have nothing to lose by adding sauerkraut or kimchi to your meals. If you’re not sensitive to dairy, try kefir, one of my favorite sources of probiotics. You can even try doing a yogurt mask since topical probiotic treatments could be beneficial.

Supplementing with certain nutrients might help, too. There is limited evidence in support of zinc,9 vitamin B3,10 and fish oil supplements.11

Finally, work on your skin’s surface. Some people swear by using coconut oil on their face, but it can be aggravating for others. Try topical applications of manuka honey, tea tree oil (diluted), witch hazel, green tea extract, or apple cider vinegar. None of these is likely to be a slam dunk on its own, but use them alongside dietary changes and wise supplementation, and you might just arrive at a winning combo.

Eczema

As with acne, there are several forms of eczema. The most common is atopic dermatitis. Eczema is characterized by dry, itchy, swollen rashes that appear most often on the face, neck, elbows, and knees. People of any age can develop eczema, but it’s more common in babies and children. Up to 20 percent of children and 5 percent of adults are afflicted.12 Doctors aren’t sure what causes it. Rashes seem to be triggered by an immune system reaction, but it’s not clear why. Specific triggers differ from person to person.

Because the root causes are unknown, finding relief can also be difficult and frustrating. Patients are advised to keep affected areas moisturized, avoid detergents and soaps that might irritate the skin, opt for cotton clothing, and take baths with oatmeal or vinegar. Doctors may prescribe topical steroids or other creams or, in extreme cases, immunosuppressing drugs.

Other Ways to Address Eczema

Probiotics?

Studies of infants and young children have found that eczema sufferers have, on average, less microbial diversity in their guts.13 14 Probiotic supplementation, especially with strains of Lactobacillus, may reduce the risk of developing eczema15 and relieve eczema symptoms.16 A 2012 meta-analysis also concluded that when pregnant women supplement with probiotics, their babies have a significantly reduced risk of developing eczema.17

However, a recent Cochrane review concluded that there is insufficient evidence to recommend probiotics as an effective eczema treatment.18 There are so many other benefits of supporting a healthy microbiome that it doesn’t hurt to try probiotics, though.

Coconut oil

Thanks to its antimicrobial and anti-inflammatory properties, coconut oil applied topically to eczema rashes may provide some relief.19 If nothing else, it will moisturize dry skin and smell great.

Acupressure, acupuncture, and massage

A few small studies have found that acupressure 20, acupuncture 21, and massage[/ref]https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/9796594/[/ref] may provide some relief. In addition to physiologic benefits, these treatments may reduce stress, which is known to trigger flare-ups.

Get outside

Your doctor may use phototherapy treatments, but you can also reap the benefits of ultraviolet light simply by getting out in the sun.22 Ultraviolet radiation triggers the release of nitric oxide, which in turn activates T cells that modulate the overactive immune response.23

Dermatologists caution that sun exposure is not recommended for severe cases, and it exacerbates symptoms for some people. Be careful not to overdo it. Besides the risk of burning, getting too hot and sweaty leads to itching and discomfort.

Psoriasis

With plaque psoriasis—the most common form—red, scaly, often itchy or painful patches rise on the scalp, knees, elbows, lower back, or really anywhere on the body. Other types of psoriasis cause red lesions in folds such as the armpit, small dots, or blisters. Psoriasis can also affect the fingernails and toenails.

Psoriasis shares a lot in common with eczema. Doctors don’t know exactly what causes it, but it has a genetic component and is classified as an autoimmune disease. Symptoms come and go, and different people may have different triggers. Doctors usually treat psoriasis with topical creams, but they may also prescribe oral medications to try to get at it systemically.

Unlike eczema, though, psoriasis is more common in adults than children. Up to 30 percent of people with psoriasis develop a related condition called psoriatic arthritis. Because it is associated with systemic inflammation, psoriasis puts you at greater risk for other chronic health conditions such as metabolic syndrome and 24 cardiovascular disease.25

Treating Psoriasis with Diet

Gluten sensitivity is probably more common among psoriasis sufferers than in the general population. I think gluten sensitivity is more common than is generally recognized, but that aside, I’d strongly suggest that anyone with psoriasis try eliminating gluten completely for a period of time.

Calorie-restricted diets also yield significant improvements in symptom severity for obese individuals, but it’s not clear whether that is due to the calorie restriction per se, weight loss, or something else.26 27

If you have psoriasis, you should also limit your alcohol intake. A growing body of evidence suggests that alcohol can worsen symptoms. Psoriasis also comes with a higher risk of liver disease, making excess alcohol consumption potentially more dangerous.28

Supplements

Many psoriasis patients try supplementing with fish oil, selenium, and vitamins D and B12, but there is only mixed evidence that they are actually effective.29 (Vitamin D is commonly applied in topical creams.) They may be helpful for some people, though.

There is also a lot of interest in curcumin, a compound found in turmeric. A number of small clinical trials have yielded some success, but it’s still early. A recent meta-analysis concluded that the available data do not support using curcumin topically, but taking it as an oral supplement shows promise.30

Stress reduction

Stress leads to psoriasis flare-ups.31 Therefore, anything you do to moderate stress may help prevent or manage symptoms. Meditation and guided imagery seem to work.32 Or, treat yourself to an at-home spa day. Start with an Epsom salt or oatmeal bath, then apply some topical treatments using stuff you already have in the house. The National Psoriasis Association recommends using aloe vera, apple cider vinegar, and tea tree oil topically, as well as mahonia (Oregon grape) cream (which you probably don’t have lying around).33

Sunlight

Ultraviolet light, especially UVB, can help with psoriasis symptoms. Certain topical treatments make you more susceptible to sunburn, so check out any medications you’re using.

Acupuncture

A 2017 review of studies involving more than 1,000 participants concluded that acupuncture and acupressure can help with psoriasis.34

General takeaways

Skin disorders are complex. The remedies I mentioned here are not the only ones you might try. Severe or prolonged cases may respond best to a combination of treatments, including medications.

No matter what your specific challenge, the following are always good practice:

Support a healthy gut microbiome through the usual means.

Eat a nutrient-rich diet. Most vitamins and minerals directly and indirectly affect skin health. Vitamins A, D, and E probably get the most attention, but they are all important.

Avoid harsh cleansers and products that might irritate your skin. I have a few posts about Primal skincare, but the most Primal skincare “product” is just plain (clean, filtered) water.

Avoid foods that promote inflammation. If you suspect that food sensitivities make your skin problems worse, simple elimination experiments can provide answers. For skin issues, it’s not generally necessary to undertake a complete elimination diet along the lines of the autoimmune protocol (AIP) or low-FODMAP. However, if you have other symptoms that suggest serious gut health impairment, your practitioner may recommend that you do eliminate a wider swath of foods for a while.

Finally, avoid touching your face as much as possible. That’s just a good idea anyway.

I know I just scratched the tip of the iceberg here. Tell me about your personal successes and challenges. What’s your secret for healthy skin? Maybe your advice can help someone else.

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References

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/12472346/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/26897386/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/12472346/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4769025/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/26897386/

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0261561418301663

https://www.wjgnet.com/2218-6190/full/v6/i4/52.htm

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/23886975

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20666829

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/17147561/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24553997/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6516982/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22831283/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/30860574/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6516982/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/11069570

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK91608/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6517242/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24320105/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22207450/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/30477869/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22813359

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28601680/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/29241748

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5666891/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/31309536

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/29926091/

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22004481/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4134971/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/30193251

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/8513683/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/30193251

https://www.psoriasis.org/treating-psoriasis/complementary-and-alternative/herbal-remedies

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28628749/

The post 3 Common Skin Conditions and What to Do about Them appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

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[babyheatrash-blog]

Learn About Removed Baby Heat Rash On Face

Noticing that your baby features a rash are often alarming. The rash could also be causing your baby discomfort. Worse still, you would possibly not know where it came from. While there are many skin conditions that babies often experience, prickly heat is one among the foremost common. In fact, it's going to even be the primary sort of rash to affect your child. In this article, the baby experts will explain everything you would like to understand about baby heat rash on the face. We’ll tell you exactly what it's and the way to spot it, also as a way to prevent and treat it. Follow the straightforward tips we offer during this post and your baby’s skin is going to be back to normal in no time.

What Is Baby Heat Rash?

baby heat rash on the face As the name suggests, prickly heat may be a skin condition that develops when your baby’s skin gets too hot. More specifically, prickly heat is caused when sweat gets stuck in your baby’s pores. When your baby’s body becomes hot, their skin begins to supply sweat (which may be a cooling mechanism for the human body). However, babies have tiny pores that will easily become clogged. prickly heat is that the result of sweat getting caught in those small pores because it tries to succeed in the surface of your little one’s skin. Summer is that the commonest season for warmth rash because we all sweat a touch more during the recent summer months. Humid climates also can contribute to prickly heat. But this skin condition doesn’t only occur when the temperature is high! It also can form when it’s cold, especially if your baby is wearing many layers of clothing. Remember to de-layer once you go indoors. Fortunately, prickly heat isn’t a significant condition. It’s perfectly normal for babies to urge prickly heat, and with proper treatment, it always goes away after a couple of days. How am I able to Tell If My Baby Heat Rash on Face? Babies have soft, delicate skin. this suggests that their skin is more sensitive and susceptible to conditions like dryness, eczema, and rashes. Baby prickly heat is often identified by the subsequent symptoms: Patches of red, itchy skin Tiny bumps or pimples Slight inflammation or puffiness Irritation and discomfort If you’ve noticed these telltale signs on your baby’s skin, they'll be affected by prickly heat. Keep an additional close eye on your baby’s chest, neck, diaper area, or armpits. Your baby is more likely to develop prickly heat in these places because they're the areas that sometimes produce the foremost sweat. Clothing also tends to suit tightly around those parts of their bodies. So how are you able to tell baby prickly heat aside from other skin conditions, like eczema or cradle cap? Eczema will normally cause flaking and experience rough to the touch. Heat rash, on the opposite hand, causes small bumps or tiny blisters to make on the surface of your baby’s skin. dermatitis also causes red, flaky skin, but this condition can only form on your baby’s head and forehead. Why do babies get heat rash?

Why do babies get heat rash Babies are susceptible to prickly heat because they're less ready to regulate their blood heat than adults. Because babies have smaller sweat glands and are less ready to regulate their blood heat, they're more susceptible to prickly heat than adults. Tight clothes, swaddles, and blankets also can cause heat rashes. In most cases, the rash will getaway on its own without treatment. Babies are more likely to urge prickly heat for several reasons: Babies have little control over their environment and can't begin extra clothing or move far away from heat sources. Causes of Rashes on Baby’s Face As a baby’s skin is sensitive, it's vulnerable to rashes or irritation. Here are a number of the common causes of rashes on a baby’s face. allergy Rashes are often a clear-cut reaction to food items that your baby could be allergic to. these things might be transferred to a baby via breast milk also. If your baby is on supplementary food, certain ingredients of the formula also can trigger an allergy during a baby, and he may develop rashes on the face. Reaction Sometimes, a baby can also get a rash if he wears clothes that aren't washed properly. The detergents or solutions you employ to scrub your baby’s clothes, bedsheets or any clothing item that comes in touch together with your baby may cause the rash. Similarly, creams, soaps, or perfumes that may be used on the baby or around them, could also trigger similar reactions. Extreme climate Babies have extremely sensitive skin that immediately reacts to the changes within the surrounding atmosphere. If the air is extremely hot or the AC is turned up too high, the baby’s skin may get dehydrated, causing the rash to seem. External weather could further trigger these, making things difficult for the baby. Poor Hygiene If your friends and relatives come to your house, they'll not always use a sanitizer to wash their hands before taking him in their arms or when twiddling with him. Holding the baby without washing hands can also cause germs and other particles to return in touch with the baby’s sensitive skin, causing reactions. just in case a rash has just disappeared, the presence of germs could cause it to seem again. If proper cleanliness isn't maintained within the house, it could also cause allergies which can cause a rash to seem. These germs could also make your baby ill. Pet Allergies If you've got pets in your home, their presence could also trigger allergies in your baby. Pet hair usually litter around the house and should trigger allergies. If you play together with your pet, confirm your hands and body are beyond any saliva or pet hair before you're taking your baby in your arms. Types of Baby Heat Rash on Face Some of the foremost common sorts of baby rashes are mentioned below.

Types of Baby Heat Rash on Face Infantile Eczema Infantile eczema also termed as atopic eczema, this rash usually appears when rough cloths, chemical detergents, or other skin allergens inherit contact with the baby. it's dry, scaly, and reddish, and usually appears on the face, legs, chest, and arms. Baby Acne This acne isn't as bad as adult acne. the tiny protruding bumps on the face of a baby that resemble a pimple and are pink in color, appear thanks to being exposed to the mother’s hormones. Baby acne may appear just 2 to 4 weeks after the birth of the baby but it always clears abreast of its own in about 3 to 4 months and doesn't leave any marks on the baby’s face. Impetigo Maybe a common skin condition that's contagious. appears on a baby’s face, especially around his nose, and on his hands within the sort of extremely irritating red-colored blisters. This condition is extremely contagious and is really an infection. Doctors usually recommend antibiotic treatment immediately after it's diagnosed. Milia If you see small white-colored pinpoint bumps on your baby’s face, these are a transparent sign of milia. These are subepidermal cysts. They resolve on their own, hence no treatment is required. Milia on baby face Dribble Rash Usually observed around the area of baby’s mouth, whether on the chin or across the neck, the rationale for dribble rash is strict because the name suggests – the dribbling of saliva excessively from the baby’s mouth. If the saliva isn’t wiped off periodically and stays accumulated in these areas, it leads to this type of rash. Seborrheic Eczema Observed primarily in areas of the baby’s skin where the hair is present, this will later spread to other areas of the body too. This rash appears within the sort of irritating small red bumps and a few crusty scales in yellow color on the scalp, and even within eyebrows and eyelashes. the rationale behind this is often an allergy to food, primarily through baby formulas or supplementary foods. Slapped Cheek Syndrome Slapped cheek syndrome may be a virus infection that results in the event of a bright red rash on one or both cheeks. The rash on cheeks usually disappears during a few days’ time, but if the rashes develop on other parts of the body like arms, chest, and legs, it's going to take a while, about 7-10 days to disappear. Although this rash is more common in school-aged children, anyone could catch on. This rash is typically not painful and disappears on its own. However, you ought to seek medical help if your baby has it for an extended time now. Other Causes Apart from allergies and dry skin problems, certain rashes could also occur thanks to a spread of reasons starting from insect bites right down to extreme heat exposure. Mostly observed on neck and back, there are specific conditions like salmon patches, erythema toxicum, and Mongolian spots which will cause harmless rashes to seem temporary. Home Remedies for Baby Heat Rash on face

Home Remedies for Baby Heat Rash on face Most rashes like a red rash, milk rash, or prickly heat on a baby’s face are often taken care of reception by means of straightforward remedies. Try these home remedies if your baby features a rash on his face which isn't severe or due to the conditions mentioned above. Use Ice Cubes – Rashes may cause irritation, which can make your baby uncomfortable. Use ice cubes to appease the pain. Place 2-3 ice cubes during a piece of fabric and wrap it. Ice cubes should help alleviate the pain to an extent. Try Breast Milk – Using breast milk in the affected area also can help treat rashes. If your baby features a rash, apply some breast milk on the affected area. it's loaded with antibodies that will help in treating the rash. additionally, there's no risk of your baby developing an allergy to an equivalent. Use Moisturizer – Apply a moisturizer containing ceramides because it can improve the barrier function of the skin. Risk factors Dressing a baby appropriately for the climate can help prevent prickly heat. Risk factors for warmth rash in babies include: wearing clothes that are too warm for the season living during a very warm climate sitting near heat sources, like space heaters or heat lamps Prevention As you recognize prevention is best than cure, so why not nip the matter within the bud before it gets too late. Here are some measures you'll fancy prevent rashes. Use a humidifier in your baby’s room in order that the encompassing air isn’t dry and doesn’t dehydrate your baby’s skin. If your baby features a rash, request people to not touch the baby in the least. albeit there's no rash but there's a history of susceptibility, make sure that people maintain their distance and don’t touch your child an excessive amount of. Rashes on the face are often further aggravated if the baby keeps scratching his face together with his nails. Try your best to stay the nails short so on prevent the rash from aggravating. Avoid using wipe clothes to wash your baby as they're rough and should even house germs. Avoid cleaning your baby’s upper body with soap if he has extra sensitive skin. Using clean water is enough. If a rash is present, use soft paper towels to wash the world. Let the world dry on its own, don’t pat it. Baby heat rash on face can go from harmless to an extreme if proper hygiene isn't maintained. By taking the proper measures you'll prevent external factors from affecting your baby and may even prevent the rash from aggravating. Moreover, don't panic, as your baby will get through this phase. If you're unsure, don't hesitate in consulting a doctor. Read the full article

[its-lifestyle]

By Dr Nandakumar Ramakrishnan

It is a common misconception that heart attacks are for the old.

The 2014-2015 National Cardiovascular Disease Database – Acute Coronary Syndrome registry showed that Malaysians on average suffer heart attacks at a younger age, compared to those in develop­ed countries.

This average age is 58.6 years, compared to between 63.4 to 68 years in most developed countries.

The heart of the matter (pun intended) is for us to realise that our lifestyles play a role in our cardiovascular health starting from a young age.

When it comes to heart diseases, there is no one single cause. There are merely risk factors that when combined, could result in heart diseases.

The more risk factors you have, the higher the chances of having a heart attack.

While having a family history of heart disease is a risk factor that cannot be changed, most other risk factors for heart disease are modifiable.

Monitoring and modifying things like high cholesterol, high blood pressure, diabetes, obesity, metabolic syndrome, a sedentary lifestyle, stress, smoking and diet can help lower your lifetime risk of developing heart disease.

Causing a blockage

The word “atherosclerosis” is derived from ancient Greek, where “athero” means “gruel-like” and “pasty”, while “sclerosis” means “abnormal hardening”.

What it actually denotes is that atherosclerosis begins as lumpy, fatty deposits that subsequently come together and form plaques that harden, narrowing arterial walls.

High amounts of so-called “bad” cholesterol or LDL (low-density lipoprotein) will make their way into the lining of arteries and progressively build from tiny crystals to large deposits, taking on the form of fatty streaks.

These fatty streaks gradually increase in size to form plaques, which then eventually develop fibrous caps and form mature plaques.

These “stable” plaques cause the narrowing of the arteries, triggering a chest pain known as angina, when the oxygen supply to the heart muscles occasionally be- comes insufficient.

But this is not what causes massive heart attacks.

A massive heart attack occurs when there is a sudden complete blockage of an artery due to a blood clot.

When a plaque ruptures, the body immediately reacts by forming blood clots on the plaque as a way of damage control.

These clots will cause a complete block of the artery, reducing blood flow to the part of the heart muscle supplied by the artery, causing oxygen deprivation.

Lack of oxygenation leads to death of the muscle cells, which generates a heart attack.

This results in the person experiencing sudden, intense chest pain, among other possible symptoms.

Atherosclerosis is a slow, insidious process that takes years to build up, starting from as early as childhood.

However, the heart attack that results happens rapidly within just a matter of minutes.

Smoking secondhand occurs when the people near a smoker inhale his or her cigarette smoke; frequent exposure is also a risk factor for heart disease. — EPA

Birth weight matters

Certain connections have been documented between low birth weight and the risk of developing atherosclerosis years later.

A review of 18 studies looking at the correlation between birth weight and occurrences of heart diseases later in life was done in 2007.

The conclusion was that being born with low birth weight is a risk factor of heart disease in adulthood.

It has also been found that an association exists between low birth weight and risk of stroke.

Infants of a smaller birth weight are also known to be at risk of developing insulin resistance, high cholesterol and high blood pressure during childhood.

In addition, rapid catch-up weight gain in infancy adds to these risks.

Some scientists also hypothesise that maternal factors play a role, such as poor maternal nutrition and smoking, as well as a low socioeconomic background.

The single most important culprit spanning across all ages for developing atherosclerosis is smoking.

There is increasing evidence that exposure to secondhand smoke is just as hazardous as smoking itself.

Another study done on children in 2007 showed that those who have been exposed to passive smoke daily display a significant impairment in the ability of their arteries to expand when more blood flow is required.

This kind of continuous exposure from a young age is what leads to the early onset of diseases and illnesses.

Youngsters, take heart!

The risk factors of heart disease mentioned above are the same in both young adults and those of advanced age.

One study evaluated over 5,000 young adults between the ages of 18 to 30 and monitored them up to 15 years, to find out how their risk factors influenced coronary artery calcifications, as detected by CT (computed tomography) scanning.

It was found that smoking 10 cigarettes a day increased the likelihood of coronary artery disease by 50%; each 30 mg/dl rise in LDL cholesterol increased risk by 50%; each 10 mmHg rise in systolic blood pressure increased risk by 30%; and each 15 mg/dL rise in blood sugar levels increased risk by 20%.

Risk factors were found to increase during teenage years, particularly in boys.

Following puberty, the level of insulin resistance and triglycerides rise in males, while HDL (high-density lipoprotein) cholesterol levels fall.

For females, it is the opposite.

While hormones play a part to some extent, habits that affect health cannot be discounted.

For example, teenage boys tend to smoke more and consume more fast food than girls from the same age group.

High blood pressure or hypertension, which is a risk factor for heart disease, is a silent condition that many people are unaware they have. — AFP

Educate our children

Suffering a heart attack at any age is indeed a significant occurrence with far-reaching consequences.

Those who suffer an attack at a younger age tend to have a better outcome as they often have single-vessel disease and well-preserved heart muscle.

Despite this, remember that it is just a hint of what lies beneath and that the disease will progress if no serious action is taken.

In one study of men who had a heart attack at an average age of 36, 30% died within 15 years.

In another study of men and women who had a heart attack before age 40, a quarter were dead in less than 15 years.

Heart attack has been the leading cause of death in Malaysia for the past 13 years.

Despite great advances made in treating them, prevention is undoubtedly the management of choice.

Children should be educated from a young age on healthy and positive lifestyle choices that will prove beneficial in later life.

Of equal importance is the message that young people need to be screened for heart disease risk factors, even though they might appear to be of seemingly good health.

Despite various campaigns and awareness programmes, many remain in the dark about the risks of heart disease.

A survey covering over 4,000 healthy individuals with an ave-rage age of 30 found that over 65% were unable to identify any of the six major cardiac risk factors.

Looking at how low birth weight is connected to heart disease in later life, obstetricians and paediatricians play a role too in advising families about maintaining good heart health.

Obstetricians can work towards improving maternal health habits, while paediatricians can start screening for cardiac risk factors from a young age.

Take action now

On an individual level, here are some steps to take in order to maintain your cardiovascular health.

Be informed of your family’s history of diseases such as heart disease, diabetes, stroke and high cholesterol.

Avoid both active and passive smoking, as well as other forms of smoking, such as vaping.

And begin monitoring your blood pressure and cholesterol levels from your early 20s.

It has been found that the trend of high blood pressure is increasing to a point where it is expected to triple in men and double in women under the age of 35.

Attention must also be paid to diet and exercise.

Incorporate more plant-based foods and reduce red meat in your diet. A 2017 study found a connection between red meat and death linked to cardiovascular diseases, cancer, stroke and diabetes.

As for exercise, allocate at least 30 minutes a day for it.

Be curious about the health of this integral organ of our body. Remember that it is never too early to start a healthy lifestyle.

Start young and keep your heart pumping strong, and as the ancient philosopher Confucius said, “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”

Dr Nandakumar Ramakrishnan is a consultant cardiologist. For more information, email starhealth@thestar.com.my. The information provided is for educational purposes only and should not be considered as medical advice. The Star does not give any warranty on accuracy, completeness, functionality, usefulness or other assurances as to the content appearing in this column. The Star disclaims all responsibility for any losses, damage to property or personal injury suffered directly or indirectly from reliance on such information.

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[jakehglover]

Essential Oils That Could Help Your Headaches

By Dr. Mercola

For people who experience the worst type of headache — migraines — one might describe them as something like being forced to go on a long, impromptu bus trip during a lightning storm while wearing a helmet that’s way too tight, the stereo is set on deafening and all the energy you’ve got is spent trying to hold your stomach together. Migraine headaches result from specific changes in the brain, and the pain almost always focuses itself on one side of your head, causing a “pounding” sensation that gets worse with physical exertion.

However, sometimes it hits both sides of your head and may involve sensitivity to light and/or sound, eye pain and nausea so severe that vomiting is part of the package. Migraines are experienced by 37 million people in the U.S. annually1 — roughly 1 in 7 Americans — which vary in duration from four to 72 hours and can be triggered by stress, hormonal changes and lack of sleep.

They’re the main reason why people visit emergency clinics, and most often are experienced by women of childbearing age.2 The Hearty Soul3 relates a number of other triggers that many might not consider:

Monosodium glutamate (MSG)

Chocolate

Stress

Dehydration

Smoking

Birth control pills

Magnesium deficiency

Meats with nitrates (bacon or lunch meat)

Peanut butter

Wine

Medications

Dairy products

Whether the migraine excursion is taken occasionally or frequently, the pain is bad enough that any cure is deemed worth looking into: cold compresses, hot compresses, head massages, body massages. There are numerous over-the-counter and prescription drugs available, but these aren’t always without side effects.

Migraines: ‘Debilitating,’ ‘Like a Vice,’ ‘Soul Crushing’

To call a migraine a “bad headache” is a gross understatement. Some headache sufferers might tell you they’re impossible to define in a truly meaningful way — just that they’re awful. Huffington Post4 asked several people to describe the sensations they experience either before and/or during a migraine:

“It’s like having your head compressed by a 2-ton brick while someone hits your temple with a hammer at random intervals.”

“Like a vice around my head, with stabbing behind my ears and pressure behind my eyes. Pull the shades, lie down, don’t move.”

“Like being hit in the head by a semi. Or having your head compressed by thousands of cubic feet of water.”

“When I’m in the grip of a really bad one — one of those terrible, soul-crushing ones that comes around once a year or so — I almost always think, ‘There’s nothing I wouldn’t give up to make this go away right now.’”

“Like you are trying to give birth through your forehead.”

People describing symptoms often talk about their throbbing temples, pain behind their eyes, sensitivity to light and sounds and ongoing nausea. More than a few reference things like jackhammers and icepicks. Some mention auras of flickering light just before being slammed with the pain.

Understandably, migraines often lead to insomnia, and sleeplessness causes profound fatigue, which exacerbates the frequency and severity of migraines in a vicious circle. But Migraine.com5 notes that there are different types of headaches. A study of nearly 4,000 people enabled researchers to break the most common symptoms down into percentages:6

Throbbing, pulsating pain — 85 percent

Pain on one side — 59 percent

Light sensitivity — 80 percent

Blurred vision — 44 percent

Sound sensitivity — 76 percent

Auras — 36 percent

Nausea — 73 percent

Vomiting — 29 percent

Essential Oils to the Rescue

But what if the most effective relief came from something natural, extracted from powerful plant compounds instead of pain medications? I’m talking about essential oils, which have been used in ancient Egyptian, Chinese and East Indian cultures for around 6,000 years.7

Keep in mind that before applying essential oils topically, you should dilute them first with a safe and mild carrier oil, like coconut oil, olive oil, almond or jojoba oil. Essential oils have made a remarkable surge in popularity in the last several decades, proven not just anecdotally but in clinical trials to:

Ease pain

Relieve nausea

Relax your muscles

Improve sleep

Lower inflammation

Reduce stress

There are different ways to use essential oils for relieving headaches, including a few drops in tea, applying or massaging the oil (or oils) directly to the problem spots and inhaling the fragrance. One thing to always remember regarding essential oils is to avoid using them on your skin (or anyone else’s) undiluted. AromaWeb explains:

“Using a 2 percent essential oil dilution is generally considered a safe guideline for topical application of essential oils on adults when an essential oil does not have a more restricted dermal recommendation … For children or elderly, cut the dilution in half. With children, use only essential oils regarded as safe for children.”8

Reducing the frequency and severity of migraines has been achieved by continuous use over days, weeks and months. Essential oils have proved to have antibiotic, antiviral and antibacterial properties and some reports have suggested them as useful for Alzheimer’s disease, heart problems, cancer and labor pain.9

As for synthetic substances created for aromatherapy, the study noted that using actual plant oils was found to be superior, especially since synthetic fragrances often contain such irritants as solvents and propellants.10 Here’s a list of five of the most effective essential oils for relieving varied symptoms of migraines.

Peppermint Essential Oil

Having already made a name for itself among migraine sufferers, peppermint oil contains menthol to do double duty: relieve pain and relax your muscles. A collaborative study11 in Philadelphia found that applying a topical gel with 6 percent menthol “significantly” decreased pain intensity for patients after two hours.

A review published in the Asian Pacific Journal of Tropical Biomedicine noted the merits of aromatherapy using essential oils from the roots, bark, stems, leaves, flowers and fruits of the peppermint plant for a number of maladies, including swollen joints, depression, indigestion, insomnia, muscular pain, respiratory problems, skin ailments and “urine-associated complications,” as well as headaches. According to the study:

“Inhalation and the external application of these oils for the treatment of mental and physical balance are the very basics of aromatherapy … to relieve stress, rejuvenate and regenerate … Olfactory nerves from nose to the brain are the site of action …”12

To mix a topical application, dilute two or three drops of peppermint oil with one or two drops of coconut oil to ease the nausea sometimes associated with migraines. Rub the oil on the back of your neck, forehead and shoulders, but a “double whammy” of effectiveness may come from diffusing a few drops of the oil for aromatherapy.

Peppermint is a good example of an essential oil that can be used in a number of ways for greater effect, The Hearty Soul13 notes. You can add five to 15 drops to a warm bath for a soak, and meanwhile, sip on peppermint tea.

Afterward, apply a diluted solution to your temples, the back of your neck below your skull and the bottoms of your feet. There are potential peppermint oil side effects in individuals with a sensitivity; one is possible sleep interference, for people taking antacids or with gall bladder problems, and in breast-feeding women, decreased milk production, to name a few.

The National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health (NCCIH) adds something that should always be in the forefront when using essential oils, including peppermint:

“Like other essential oils, peppermint oil is highly concentrated. When the undiluted essential oil is used for health purposes, only a few drops are used. Side effects of applying peppermint oil to the skin can include skin rashes and irritation. Peppermint oil should not be applied to the face or chest of infants or young children because serious side effects may occur if they inhale the menthol in the oil.”14

Lavender Essential Oil

Lavender oil also helps with the pain of migraines, and it’s one that tackles the inflammation exacerbating it, causing the head-splitting “hammer on the skull” sensation. Part of the mechanism is its ability to dilate pressurized blood vessels. Lavender also improves sleep and reduces stress, which are the two main triggers of migraine attacks. A 2012 study15 published in European Neurology in 2012 notes this oil’s use as a sedative, antimicrobial and wound healing accelerator, among other things.

Reduced frequency and severity of migraines was reported by study subjects in a trial after using lavender for three months, according to a 2016 study.16 The researchers observed that among the 129 headache attacks in the course of the study, 92 “responded entirely or partially to lavender,” a significantly higher percentage compared to the participants in the placebo-controlled group.

The study concludes by saying that inhalation of lavender essential oil “may be an effective and safe treatment modality in acute management of migraine headaches.”

In another study featured in Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine in 2013, researchers conjectured that if lavender’s “alleged curative properties” ranged from successful treatment of insect bites, parasitic infections and spasms, it might also be an effective therapy for neurological disorders.

A review of lavender’s efficacy for pain was noted in the study, for pain ranging from cesarean section,17 breast biopsy surgery,18 “nonspecific subacute neck pain” and low back pain,19 and for migraine headaches, especially when applied early in the attack.20

Not to mention the fact that with lavender, “there’s no potential for drug abuse.”21 For aromatherapy, add five to 10 drops of lavender oil to a bowl of warm water. You can cover your head with a towel to get the most of the vapors, lean over the bowl and breathe deeply until your headache starts to diminish. You can also use a few diluted drops to massage behind your ears, your temples and back of your neck.

Eucalyptus Essential Oil

This oil is good for several types of headache pain,22 but it’s said to be most effective for people suffering from headaches due to chronic sinusitis. A 2009 study published in the Journal of Agriculture and Food Chemistry23 reported that inhaling eucalyptus oil may relieve pain and lower inflammation.

Mix one drop with a teaspoon of carrier oil such as the aforementioned coconut oil before massaging into your chest, temples and forehead. Breathe the vapors as described in the lavender oil section, and place a few drops onto a handkerchief to inhale the fragrance whenever needed.

Chamomile Essential Oil

Another effective oil for migraines, chamomile oil reduces inflammation, according to a 2014 Medical Hypotheses study,24 which described it as “a novel medicine for the relief of migraine pain.” The Top 10 Home Remedies says it also relieves symptoms of stress and anxiety, which may in turn serve to relieve your migraine.

Dilute a few drops of chamomile oil with one or two drops of a carrier oil to massage into your temples and forehead. Inhaling the steam after placing a few drops into hot water is another way to help treat your pounding head.

Rosemary Essential Oil

A 2013 study25 published in Food Chemistry points to rosemary as having a long history in tradition for treating headaches due to the potent anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving compounds it contains. It backs up a 2008 study26 that found the same benefits. Added to that are comments by Top 10 Home Remedies:

“It helps treat headaches because of its stimulating, anti-inflammatory and analgesic properties. It has a calming effect on the body and helps reduce stress and insomnia, common triggers that can cause headaches.”27

Suggested ways to use rosemary essential oil for migraine headache relief include adding one or two drops to a cup of tea, water or soup and drinking it. You can also mix two drops of rosemary oil with two drops of peppermint oil and a teaspoon of coconut oil to massage your forehead, temples and the back of your neck.

You can get an allergen test before using essential oils to make sure you’re not allergic. This entails applying a diluted amount of oil onto your skin and observing if allergic reactions occur. If you experience side effects, don’t use the oil. However, while oils like those mentioned above can have therapeutic effects, they aren't instant cures, nor are they a substitute for optimal nutrition and a healthy lifestyle.

from HealthyLife via Jake Glover on Inoreader https://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2018/06/09/essential-oils-for-headache.aspx