#he spends so long trying to be a good person and reduce the harm he does and blaming himself for things that are not his fault...

[klm-zoflorr]

Maybe I just want Jonathan Sims to snap

[abybweisse]

Ok, so who is Layla?

What do we know about her?

She's a bit eccentric when it comes to calling people other animals (swine, rats, dogs), her apparent dom kink 😆 and her hair/hair accessories

She talks bubbly some of the time but not always

She's okay with being dressed as a nurse (a role that's not high in society)

She's a bizarre doll

She came to the sanatorium specifically to see why they weren't making and sending their quotas of blood

She's not getting enough of her blood type, so she's "hungry"

What do we know about blood types in the Kuroverse?

Sirius (AB) can accept any whole blood, and Blavat seems to know this. Either that, or he doesn't care if the wrong blood harms the renal patients, at least one of them being a Sirius himself but only receiving blood from the left overs of Vega and Polaris. We found that out in Bath.

Vega (O) and Polaris (A) are the most common, and there tends to be a good supply of this blood. So much that there was extra to be given to those renal patients.

Sirius (AB) is the least common, and either Undertaker doesn't know real Ciel can accept any whole blood, or he and/or real Ciel thinks Sirius blood is the only one deemed worthy of giving to real Ciel. Sirius people are said to be genius but often two-faced.

Canopus (B) is also pretty rare, and Lord Canopus was not being sent around to the facilities to help bring back the blood supplies. Canopus is Lizzie's blood type, and these people are said to be very particular about their dress/appearance and interests.

So, what do we know about the lords of the stars?

Real Ciel/Lord Ciel is a Sirius and, since Sirius blood is so rare, he'd be the only Sirius that Undertaker is trying to take care of. He's not able to travel too much or work too hard/for too long at a time. All the blood he gets comes to him, and Undertaker gives him the transfusions (or at least monitors them). His room at Sphere Music Hall was done up to look like a Phantomhive master bedroom.

Lord Canopus had a basic room at Sphere Music Hall, suggesting this person doesn't have a particularly high social status.

Canopus also talks quite seriously, but maybe not always. We've only seen one confirmed speech bubble from Canopus:

Vega had the most lavish room at Sphere Music Hall, and it seems to be appointed for two people. They talk in unison and with bubbly speech patterns, though this might not always be true, either. Because of this, they probably spend very little time apart.

Polaris had a bare room at Sphere Music Hall, much like Canopus' room, but Polaris destroyed their room with slashing and stabbing marks all over the place. Polaris calls themself a butler and tends to speak formally, but sometimes they lose their temper and start yelling and crying... and they have said they lost their master and can't stand to lose another: Lord Ciel (real Ciel).

So, who do I think Layla must be?

If Undertaker created more advanced bizarre dolls than just the "lords of the stars", then she could be anyone (except a Sirius), but I'd say she'd probably be a Canopus, based on her personality. Thing is, there's not much blood to go around for Canopus. In fact, Sirius can accept any blood, but Canopus can only accept Canopus (B) and Vega (O), making it foolish of Undertaker to create more than one advanced bizarre doll who "requires" Canopus blood. I'm not sure Undertaker really knows how blood types work.

If she's a lord of the stars, then her apparently lower station in life, her personality and appearance, and her low blood supply suggests she would likely have to be Lord Canopus. And perhaps Al is a random worker for the Aurora Society who came with her to take care of her, like give her blood transfusions when Ada isn't looking.

Of course, we have yet to see or "hear" this Al person, so we can't quite rule out the two of them being Vega. Maybe they don't have enough blood between the two of them anymore, now that all the incoming blood supplies have been reduced. It's just that Vega was sent to pick up blood supplies, just like Polaris, and that isn't why Layla and Al are there. Personally, I expect Vega to show up at the creepy orphanage that Finny and Snake are headed to.

[isaiahbie]

Naturalism Cannot Explain the Good Life

The United States’ Declaration of Independence tells us that all men are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, among them, the right to pursue happiness. Today, happiness or the good life has come to mean a life of pleasure and the possession of consumer goods. But historically, happiness or the good life meant a life of “eudaimonia”—a state of ideal human flourishing and proper human functioning constituted by a life of character and virtue lived the way human beings were meant to live.

The Good Life on Christian Theism

It is easy to see how this notion of the good life makes sense in a Christian worldview. For a human being to live the good life is for him or her to function in the way proper to ideal human living. One functions properly just in case one functions the way one was meant to function by one’s Designer. Since the Designer is Himself a virtuous person of character, and since He made us to imitate Him, the good life of proper functioning is a life of virtue and character. In this way, we see how Christian theism clarifies and justifies a rich conception of the good life of virtue and character as a life in which humans function the way they were meant to function by God.

Christian theism also provides a satisfying answer to a question related to why we should care about the good life: Why should I be moral? If I am trying to decide what my life plan will be–what I will care about, live for, spend my time seeking—and if I want my life plan to be rationally justified and sensible, then why is it reasonable for morality and the life of virtue to be a key part of my life plan? Why isn’t it more reasonable to live a life of pure egoism in which my own self-interests, defined any way I wish, are all that should matter to me, rationally speaking? Why should I not just pretend to care for morality when it is in my self-interests to do so, all the while not really adopting the moral point of view at all? Christian theism says we should be moral because the moral life of virtue is real, we know some truths about it, and to live in disregard of the moral life is to live out of touch with a real and important part of reality made by God. Moreover, God made us to function best when we live the life of virtue. To live in disregard of morality and virtue is to live like a fish out of water, i.e., to live contrary to our proper functioning. The Good Life on Naturalism

Obviously, naturalists cannot help themselves to this depiction of the nature of and grounds for the good life. While not all naturalists agree about the nature of morality and the good life—how could they when it is hard enough to have any clear room for objective value in a naturalist view of things¹—many tough-minded naturalists opt for a view of morality which Daniel Callahan calls “minimalist ethics”²: One may act in any way one chooses so far as one does not do harm to others. Unfortunately, such an ethic draws too sharp of a distinction between public and private morality, it reduces humans to isolated moral atoms who create their own moral universe, and it deprives us of meaningful and true ways to discourse about the good life of virtue in its individual and communal forms. Other naturalists follow Alasdair MacIntyre and take virtues and the good life of human excellence to be mere expressions of value relativized to one’s culture and tradition (presumably, not Nazi culture) or to one’s private beliefs and choices (presumably, not Jeffrey Dahmer’s.)

Both of these naturalist strategies—minimalist ethics and the relativization of virtue—are simply inadequate to capture the nature of morality and the good life or to explain why they have such hegemonic authority. This inadequacy can be seen in three areas. First, these naturalist strategies take the good life to be whatever an individual or culture chooses to create and value as long as no harm is done to others. But as Harvard philosopher John Rawls admits, this view implies that a person who chooses to spend his entire life counting blades of grass is equally living the good life of virtue as is Billy Graham or Mother Teresa as long as both freely choose their activities and can pursue them in a satisfying way.³

Second, naturalists have no way of expressing what it means to function properly in a normative way. Because they do not believe we were created by God, there is no way we were meant to function, no form of life that is proper to our nature as creatures in God’s image. This can be seen in Georgetown philosopher Tom Beauchamp’s attempt to protect a relativistic view of the good from certain obvious problems. Beauchamp discusses the view within our purview, viz., that the good is whatever satisfies the relativistic preferences freely chosen by individuals.⁴ Beauchamp recognizes that if everyone happened to prefer certain horrible desired satisfactions (e.g., regularly fondling children) then this would have to count as the good on this definition. Beauchamp responds by saying that the good should be redefined as whatever satisfies the relativistic preferences freely chosen by individuals if they are choosing rationally, i.e., if they are functioning properly in their choices. Unfortunately, rationality for Beauchamp does not mean choosing the way we ought to choose, or the way we were designed to choose since this would be circular—the good would be defined in terms of choosing what we ought, but choosing what we ought would be defined as choosing what is really good. The only solution here is to say either that rational behavior is simply what is statistically regular among adults who grow up in a typical way in society or it is behavior that promotes the survival of the species. It should be obvious that this will not work. It is easy to conceive of possible worlds where most adults prefer to fondle children or where such behavior could have survival value. But in these possible worlds, fondling children would still not constitute the life of virtue. Without a normative notion of proper functioning, the naturalist is stuck with problems like this.

Finally, many naturalists agree with atheist Kai Nielsen, who acknowledges that there is no answer to the question of why we should be moral.⁵ For Nielsen, the choice between adopting the moral point of view versus living a life of pure selfishness in total disregard for morality and virtue is an arbitrary, non-rational choice. But any view that reduces the difference in worth between the overall lifestyle of a greedy, hateful racist versus the life of St. Benedict to being nothing more than an arbitrary choice like the one between being a fast-food lover versus learning to play the piano is deeply flawed. It is no wonder that moral chaos has resulted from the hegemony of naturalism among our cultural elites.

Notes:

¹ See Naturalism Cannot Explain the Existence of Objective Moral Values. ² See Daniel Callahan’s statement and critique of this position in “Minimalist Ethics,” The Hastings Center Report 11 (October 1981): 19-25. See my own critique of this position here. ³ John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1971), pp. 424-33. ⁴ Tom Beauchamp, Philosophical Ethics (NY: McGraw-Hill, 1982), pp. 84-86. ⁵ See J. P. Moreland, Kai Nielsen, Does God Exist? (Buffalo, N. Y.: Prometheus, 1993), pp. 97-135.

[owning-my-truth]

Best Ways for Avoiding Relapse After Substance Abuse Treatment

After a person completes drug rehabilitation and successfully stays clean, they will often want to know what's next to prevent future relapses. The first thing that many individuals do when trying to maintain sobriety is to reach out to family members for support.

This is understandable because family relationships are central to our lives; we tend to lean on them for emotional comfort and guidance. However, this can be problematic as it may cause more harm than good if approached incorrectly. What should you do instead?

The Best Approach Is To Focus On Self-Empowerment And Personal Development First

When someone has just gotten sober from addiction, his focus should not immediately turn toward finding friends who recently quit drinking or using illicit substances. Instead, he should take some time to develop new habits and behaviors to build confidence and self-esteem.

One of the best things that anyone suffering from addiction can do is to set goals and make plans about how he wants to live his life moving forward. He should ask himself questions like, "Where am I going?", "Who am I becoming?" and "How am I changing?".

These personal inquiries allow him to gain insight into what type of lifestyle he wants to lead moving forward. Asking yourself these kinds of questions helps bring clarity which leads to motivation. It also creates positive feelings and emotions within oneself rather than negative ones associated with anxiety over whether or not one can stay clean.

Another critical step is to find something enjoyable to do each day

There are plenty of hobbies that people enjoy doing, such as playing golf, hiking, reading books, volunteering at local organizations, cooking, spending quality time with loved ones, etc. In addition, numerous activities involve traveling, such as visiting other countries, taking road trips across states/countries, attending seminars, etc.

Whatever activity you choose, your goal must always be to create fun experiences for yourself while staying away from those places where you used to engage in destructive behavior. For example, if your old job were to drink excessively every Friday night, you would need to find another place to work - perhaps somewhere less stressful.

Another option might be to volunteer elsewhere during the weekdays (for instance, at a soup kitchen) until you feel comfortable enough to return to your previous post. Try to keep your current schedule intact since it takes time to break bad habits.

One Final Tip That Will Help You Stay Clean Moving Forward

It is essential to realize that everyone goes through periods of craving alcohol or drugs even long after completing rehab. Even though cravings come and go, it is crucial to remain vigilant against temptation by reminding yourself daily why you chose to get clean in the first place.

Reminding yourself of your reasons for getting clean will motivate you when you're tempted to resort back to unhealthy coping methods. When you begin to think negatively about wanting to use again, remind yourself that you are committed to change to improve your health, well-being, and overall happiness.

Taking control of your thoughts is essential to maintaining healthy living and preventing relapse. If you follow all of these tips mentioned above, you will certainly reduce your chances of experiencing a relapse down the road. Doing so requires patience and dedication, but once you start seeing results, you'll soon notice that keeping up with sobriety becomes much more accessible.

Once you become confident about your decision to get sober, don't forget to share your story with others! Sharing your own experience can give hope to others struggling with their addictions. Additionally, sharing your success stories can inspire others to pursue sobriety too.

Helping others conquer their problems is a powerful way to overcome yours. Being able to see yourself overcoming past challenges can inspire others who may be dealing with similar issues right now.

It is imperative to remember that avoiding relapse does not happen overnight, nor is it easy. Sobriety comes only through hard work and perseverance. Therefore, you must approach recovery with determination and consistency. By focusing on developing meaningful connections with others, following a balanced diet plan, exercising regularly, having faith and trust in God, learning new skills, and engaging in enjoyable activities, you will surely achieve lasting sobriety.

[shotorozu]

hello! i hope you're doing well~

can i request headcanons (or with scenario if you'd like) where bakugo's s/o falls asleep on him while crying 🥺 and if it's okay with you, can s/o have the emotion deprivation quirk because i really loved those hcs you made before :)))

i really really love your blog btw. your writing is always sweet and fun to read ❤

passing out after crying on them

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, emotion deprivation quirk— the more you suppress your emotions, the more power you get.

headcanons : hurt and comfort, but mostly comfort.

note(s) : thank you for the love anon :)) i also added shinsou because i thought this concept fitted well with him too :))

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

you were really unreadable— you’d understand that because of the nature of your quirk. however, being with katsuki gave him the ability to read you and your mannerisms

if your nails dug into your palms, that probably meant that your day was shit, if you kept looking at your nails, it means you’re trying not to cry, and running your hands across the surface meant that you were happy.

and unfortunately, he caught the sight of you digging your nails into your hands, not enough to actually do any harm but.. enough to keep you ‘focused’

he wants you to be comfortable enough to go to him with your problems, but then again— it was always something you struggled with, so he wasn’t expecting it

so now you’re alone with him, walking along the corridors of the dorms— and none of you guys are saying much.

“get in here,” he says, grabbing your wrist as he yanks you into his room, immediately setting you down on his bed.

“i don’t know what happened with you, but i don’t fuckin like seeing it.” he sets your head on the soft pillows, an arm bringing you close in positions

“nothing really happened,”

“yeah? then why the hell were you doing that then?” his words sound rather harsh, but he’s not raising his voice at you “you know what i mean.”

“i’m sorry, it’s just.. exhausting. having to suppress my emotions for long periods of time. i don’t know what to do because i’ll..”

and that’s when you start crying, which was probably the last thing on your check list— you’re getting his pillows wet, he’s not saying anything, you can feel yourself getting weaker

all of the doubts in your head run wild, and bakugou only shoves your head onto his chest “idiot, stop it with the apologies already. just let go.”

and you do exactly that. you heave into his chest, bawling like it’s been forever since you’ve done so. you’re getting his shirt wet, but katsuki couldn’t seem to care— he’s just glad that his hands are emitting enough heat

your ragged breathing eventually blended into soft breathing— you don’t seem to be shaking in tremors anymore, and he’s glad

he takes a look at your face. you’re out like a baby, cheeks still damp and your eyelashes were wet with tears.

“idiot Y/N,” he mutters to himself, wiping your damp face with his thumb, “you’re out like a baby. you’re not gonna hear this but next time, don’t be so stiff with coming forward to me for help.”

“i’m the last person that’s gonna judge you, i do love you after all. it might not seem like it but i really really really do.” he presses a kiss against the back of your ear.

he’s going to try to not wake you up, as he gets up from the bed— sprinting downstairs to prepare some water that he’s gonna force you to drink down later

when you wake up, you bet he’s making you put a cool towel on your eyes, reducing the puffiness as he has you on his lap.

shinsou hitoshi

can also tell if you had a good or bad day, and he really hates seeing you so.. miserable.

he can tell that you have so many thoughts in that head of yours, because of that powerful quirk. those were one of the few times he wished he had aizawa’s quirk.

he frowns when he sees you suffer in absolute silence, even though you’re wearing the most neutral face he has ever seen, he can quite literally see it— because you’re fidgetting with your hands on your lap.

unlike bakugou, the first thing he’ll talk to you about is how you’re feeling— the moment you guys are alone.

don’t try to deny it, because he knows already— this is just him giving you a heads up, just letting you know that he’s about to coddle you.

actions speak louder than words in moments like this, he has you pressed against him on the bed— allowing your arms to wrap around his torso like lifeline

“you don’t have to say anything right now, Y/N.” he reassures you, “let it happen.”

as if it was on command, your eyes water— and you shove your head onto his shoulder, finally breaking the barriers you were desperately trying to keep up.

you’re vunerable, a mess, and hitoshi allows you to cry like there’s no tomorrow— only resting his hand on your back, rubbing soft circles there

when you start shaking, hiccups escaping your lips— he panics for a moment, because you’re on the cusp of going into a panic attack

but that’s also when his baritone voice starts giving out soft instructions on stabilizing your breathing pattern. his quirk would always be the very last option.

and when the storm has finally calmed, your eyes flutter— a sudden wave of sleepiness washing over you, and you just allow yourself to fall asleep in his hold

he sighs in relief, and he doesn’t care that his sweater suddenly became soaked with your tears, it allow him to carry some of your burden— he’s just holding you with all of his attention.

his violet irises soften in adoration, and he’s kissing your tears off your cheeks, moving anything out of your face.

hitoshi being hitoshi wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he’ll spend a good moment thinking about what he’ll talk about with you the moment you wake up, and he’ll pask you about your issue, and how he can help.

but for now, he’s just thankful that you have so much trust him— to the point you’re okay with being vunerable around him, and he’s just so proud of you.

“sleep well, kitten. i love you a lot, please remember that.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters, boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i don’t profit off my hobby.

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

[midnightsconspiracy]

Daycare

Daycare - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Hank finally gets to spend some quality time with his son, little did he know the boy had changed a lot since their last time together.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1090

Requested: Yes!

'Voight believed that the reader deserved the day to herself so he would take care of their one-year-old. Voight believed it was easy, boy was he wrong. The first couple of hours went smoothly but after that, it went downhill. When the reader returns the reader sees Voight lied down on the couch with their son on top of him.'

A/N: first time posting a fic in a month....... sorry, I've been busy!

Masterlist

As much as Voight would have liked to believe that the parenting of your son was an even split, in reality, he knew you took the brunt of the work. All those times he'd spent nights at the office or stayed out late drinking with his buddies at their social club, you were there looking after your son. No matter how difficult it got, you were there moving to his every shrill cry and pleading shout. And so after another night spent doing overtime, Hank decided he would give you some time off, encouraging you to do the things that you'd had no time for since the birth of your son. Plus it meant he could really spend some quality time with his boy, something he hadn't been able to do since the additional pressure had been placed onto his unit.

The last time he'd spent a full twenty-four hours with his son was a couple of months ago, the chubby baby not being able to fend for himself at all, let alone sit up without any assistance. Now the one-year-old could

do more than ever, things he'd failed to watch in person, instead, chasing criminals and doing paperwork. His son was his angel though, and in his eyes could never and had never done any wrong. Little did he know though, that had changed since they'd last spent time together, gone was the child that was relaxed and placid, instead replaced with a fiesty boy who loved exploring and got upset at the slightest inconvenience. He was in for the ride of his life you thought to yourself as he finally bought up the subject one evening.

And that fateful day came along much quicker than he anticipated, taking the day off work to finally allowed you a well-deserved break. You had the whole day planned out as well, in the morning it was visiting your sister, going out shopping and chatting about all the missed gossip. Then the rest of the day was designated to your best friend, knowing you were overdue for a good catch up after being told how much you'd neglected her over the past year. You knew that it would be a long day for Hank, even trying to bargain to shorten your time apart. But he had insisted you spent the whole day out, not wanting to see your face until at least dinnertime. And so you agreed, not wanting to go against your husband knowing he would continue to insist until you accepted. As you kissed the man goodbye at the door that morning, he reassured you everything would be ok, because how much harm could an old-year-old really do?

The first hour sailed smoothly, cooking food for the two of them, indulging in the morning sunshine that gleamed through the window. Breakfast was a relatively quiet affair, both still wiping off the sleep in their eyes as they slowly chewed their food, wondering what the day ahead held. And things continued that way, hour after hour everything seemed as though it was perfect, his little boy happily playing with his toys or watched the mindless tv that had been put on to occupy his young mind. Although this wasn't the most entertaining way Hank could think of to spend his evening, he was glad he had time with his son, knowing just how quickly they grew up. He felt a little remorseful that he'd spent a lot of his baby's first year working, but he decided in that moment that would change, seeing that Justin's childhood had been and gone. And as he put his son down for a nap, thankful that he'd get a little time to do paperwork, he thought nothing of what was to come.

What you'd forgotten to tell the man was how grumpy his son got after waking up from a nap. Well, it was ironic really, knowing he was exactly the same, always giving you attitude whilst waking him up from work. But you had gotten used to it by now, getting into a routine to calm the boy down. You had failed to mention that to Hank also, hoping to show him how much work you really did whilst at home looking after the family. And hopefully, if your child acted up today as he always did, Hank would be spending a lot more time at home.

After finishing his paperwork and realising the time, Hank moved upstairs to wake his darling son up from his nap, switching on the light to reveal his angel to him. Although instead of the well-behaved son from a couple of hours ago, it was replaced with the devil, screaming at the top of his lungs over being woken up. And as much experience Hank had with children, nothing seemed to settle the boy, everything he could think of wasn't working. No way in hell was calling you either for a solution, he didn't want to disturb your day at all, plus his ego wouldn't let him. He was going to do this by himself, whether that meant having his eardrums ruined by screaming or not.

And so that was where he found himself, lying back on the sofa, his son on his chest, screaming the house down continuously. He had done everything under the sun to figure out this boys problem, but still, nothing worked. So he decided he would wait it out, the boy couldn't scream for that long, could he? But once again he was proven wrong as still after an hour, the cries continued, a little less loud, but still prevalent never the less. After a while, he'd kinda gotten used to the noise, slowly drifting off to the sound of his son wailing, and as irresponsible it sounded, he didn't care, his mind was already frazzled and numb.

The day was finally coming to an end, sunlight reducing each time the hand of the clock went round. Slowly opening the door, the house was quiet, a strange occurrence you thought, your child usually babbling away somewhere. But as you entered your living room, there was the cutest scene, your husband fast asleep, with your son snoring away on his chest. You knew this would mess up both of their sleeping patterns, but you didn't care knowing how hard of a day your husband had probably had, plus they were too cute to disturb. So, making your way to the kitchen you started dinner, smiling contently at the image of your perfect little family.

----------

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[vive-la-revolution]

little trans tips for closeted trans ftm people <3

from a closeted trans ftm person

(i think)

(disclaimer: i am not an expert, i am only stating what i’ve learned)

Trans FTM/Transmasculine

FIRST AND FOREMOST: Do not come out if you feel unsafe or you feel you won’t be accepted. Your safety is most important.

Chest Binding

Getting a binder can be difficult (and sometimes expensive), especially for those who aren’t out. I 100% understand chest dysphoria and how hard it can be to get rid of it.

A good alternative to binding I’ve used is to wear a sports bra, or to take the cups and/or underwire out of a typical bra. Other safe binding alternatives include:

Using the top part of tights; cut off the legs, trim hole in crotch for your head to go through, and put the hem beneath your breasts (be sure to replace frequently as it runs)

Layer shirts (works best with smaller chest)

Sports compression wear; often found in many sports/athletics stores

Binding safely is very important. Although we want dysphoria to last as little as possible, binding for too long can cause damage, due to the compressing of tissue. Stick to about eight hours at most of binding.

(PLEASE avoid bandages when binding. It’s very harmful to your body and can and will cause more damage than help.)

Testosterone

When closeted, it can definitely be difficult to come by testosterone hormone injections on the daily, but there are different types of ways to boost your testosterone in your body.

Testosterone-boosting foods:

Tuna

Lowfat milk

Egg yolks

Oysters

Shellfish

Beef

Beans

Onions

Green, leafy vegetables

Pomegranates

Bananas

Testosterone-boosting activities:

Weightlifting

High-Intensity Interval Training (HIIT exercises)

Reduce stressful situations; take time to relax

Spending time outdoors/getting Vitamin D

Lots of sleep

Of course, these won’t have as quick results as taking direct testosterone, but it’s just as effective when that option isn’t available.

Beating Dysphoria

Here are some more little tips for getting rid of other body dysphoria!

Basic knowledge: but hoodies are your best friend! Wear dark colors like black, navy blue, and gray to reduce shadows.

Don’t shave as often as usual. Most men don’t worry about shaving their legs, so leave them be for a while!

Wear shirts with vertical stripes. They make your torso appear more even, and your chest less prominent.

Avoid baggy clothes. It seems counterproductive, but if your shirt is too big it’ll hang off your chest.

If you like having long hair, brush it back rather than part it. Let it get messy. Try not washing it for a day or two. Maybe try a manbun!

There are tons of makeup tutorials online to show you how to make your face look more masculine!

Pronouns

The first thing to know about pronouns is that they do not equal your gender identity. Use what you feel most comfortable with, whether that’s he/him, they/them, she/her, neopronouns, whatever fits you best. Don’t let society’s “norm” change how you identify or want people to call you.

You are looking so handsome today! Make sure to drink some water, take care of yourself, then go out and be the awesome boy you are! You’re doing great, my dude, and I believe in you! <3

[sky-berrie]

How would the batboys react to a female SO with Paranoid Personality Disorder?

Hi there!

Thanks so much for the ask. I hope this is okay :)

-Sky

Bruce

As a person living with paranoid personality disorder, you might be terrified that people are out to harm you. Your place of residence, Gotham city, does nothing but exacerbate your paranoid thought patterns, since criminals run rampant through the streets. It’s hard to distinguish between paranoid thoughts and substantiated concerns. Is that sketchy person with the full face covering one of Black Mask’s False Face Society members sent to abduct you, or are they just a conscientious citizen taking extra precautions to avoid contracting or transmitting the COVID virus? Being in a state of constant fear prevents you from living your life to the fullest. Luckily, your S/O happens to be Batman in his free time.

Bruce eases your mind just with his presence. He’s probably the smartest, strongest, and most resourceful person you know and being with him makes you feel safe. Bruce is the kind of person who you’d blindly listen to during an emergency – if he told you to jump out of a burning plane, you’d do it without a second thought because he’s never let you down in the past and you’re confident that he never will in the future. If you’re feeling fearful in public, Bruce will grab your hand or put an arm around you securely and soothingly whisper in your ear that he’s right here and there’s nothing to worry about. Having paranoid thoughts means that it’s difficult to reason with you, so you probably aren’t convinced that there is no threat, but you do experience some relief from his soft touch and gentle words. He’ll ask if you want to leave and he’ll take you to your safe space. If you’re feeling fearful in private, Bruce will hold you close and rub your back to reduce your anxiety. If you’re by yourself and start to have those racing, panicked paranoid thoughts, you can always call Bruce. He’ll drop whatever he is doing and come take care of you.

Bruce will teach you self defense to help you feel more comfortable around people. He won’t arm you with any dangerous weapons because he doesn’t want an innocent person to get hurt if you get spooked. Bruce will ask if you want to move into the manor since it has strong security and comes with several vigilantes. If you would rather stay at your own place, Bruce will install a variety of safety systems to make you feel protected. He’ll even spend most nights at your place so you can sleep peacefully. Overall, Bruce is like your lifeline. He’ll know just what to do to help you through your difficult thoughts.

Dick

Dick is a social butterfly who’s had his fair share of romantic partners in the past so it’s natural for you to feel jealous when he spends time with other people. Dick will adamantly declare that he’s with you and only you. At first you might try to ignore the prickly feeling of jealousy because you don’t want to come off as a possessive S/O, but the clues accumulate and suggest that he’s cheating on you. For example, he’ll rarely spend the night with you. You’ll catch him sneaking into bed at ungodly hours of the morning. When confronted, he’ll make up an excuse that he just went to get a drink of water or use the bathroom. You’ll spot bruises scattered over his chest knowing you definitely did not leave those there. He’ll play it off as a gym injury.

When you raise your suspicions, Dick is hesitant to explain. You take this as confirmation of infidelity and you’re ready to walk out. At that point, he has no choice but to come clean about his secret identity as Nightwing. That sounds farfetched and you likely think he’s a pathological liar. Finally, Dick proves it to you and explains that he didn’t want you to be dragged into his dangerous nightlife. While you accept that as the truth, you’ll always wonder if he’s hiding more secrets. Furthermore, you’re probably pissed that he was gaslighting you. Dick will do everything he can to make it up to you. He’ll apologize profusely and in extravagant ways, be more transparent, and shower you with excessive love and affection. It might take a long time, but eventually Dick will worm his way back into your good graces.

It doesn’t take long for the green-eyed monster to rear its’ ugly head again. Now that you’re in the know, you’re hyperaware of the attractive vigilantes that Dick works with and it’s emotionally draining to be jealous all the time. You don’t want to be the type of person who tries to control their partner’s life, but when the suffering becomes too much to bear, you might ask him to stop seeing certain people. Dick will calmly assure you that there isn’t anything going on with any of his vigilante friends. If that doesn’t appease you, he’ll suggest that you hang out with the team and get to know them. He hopes that you’ll see that there aren’t any romantic feelings between them. Whatever you do, please don’t force him to choose between you and his hero life. It will tear him apart.

Jason

Trust is very important to Jason. He doesn’t trust many people as it is and needs a S/O who he can trust wholeheartedly and who will trust him in return. He believes that this relationship will fail if you don’t have confidence in each other. He’ll take it personally if you distrust him. Jason will get defensive and frustrated if you accuse him of being unfaithful, especially if you don’t have a shred of evidence to support your claims. He’ll be offended and deeply hurt that you think so negatively of him but once he’s had some time to cool off, he’ll be able to process everything more objectively. He’ll accept that you can’t control the way you feel. You’d explained it to him once that you do trust him, but there’s a separate voice in your head that tells you otherwise. Jason won’t give up on you though. He’ll come up with a proposition - he’ll agree to install a tracking app on his phone so you can monitor his whereabouts if you’ll promise to work on learning to trust him, whether it be via professional psychotherapy or reading self-help books.

On the other hand, if Jason is one of the only people you trust, he’ll be elated to know that you two have built such a strong connection. It’ll be easy to confide in him because he’ll gladly listen to your worried thoughts with no judgement. At first, he’ll reassure you that nothing bad is going to happen to you – he’s Red Hood and nobody is going to pull anything on you if they value their life. Eventually he’ll realize that trying to reason with you isn’t helpful so he’ll stick to active listening when you’re experiencing paranoid thoughts.

However, if Jason is fresh out of the pit and emotionally unstable, you two will probably bond over your mutual distrust and cynicism about the world. Although you and Jason will get along exceptionally well, it’s possible that your irrational thoughts may feed each other’s paranoia and exacerbate the feelings of mistrust and suspicion. If you find yourself unable to let things go, feel free to vent away when you’re with Jason. He is the king of holding grudges, so he’ll probably support you and even join in on trash talking that person with you when you’re angry. Learning to forgive and forget is something you and Jason can work on together. In a way, it brings you two closer together since you understand each other on a level that others can’t begin to comprehend.

Tim

Tim very compassionate and patient; however, he’s afraid of triggering you so he’s often walking on eggshells around you. He just wants to be the perfect supportive S/O for you and doesn’t want to mess up the relationship. His worst offense (in your eyes) is using ambiguous language that lends to multiple interpretations. For example, he might innocently compliment your clothes/hair/makeup and you might assume that he only likes you for your appearance or that he’s implying that you’re vain for wanting to look nice. The moment you shoot him daggers, he’s realized his mistake and starts to furiously backpedal. He tries to explain himself, but he usually ends up digging himself a deeper hole. Eventually, he gets better at expressing his thoughts carefully so that they can’t be misconstrued.

Tim diligently tries to learn your other triggers and how to help. When you’re stuck in a cycle of paranoid thoughts, Tim will get you to focus on what’s real instead of trying to make you see sense. He’ll help you relax by walking you through breathing exercises, playing soothing music, or whatever strategies you find helpful.

Tim isn’t proud of this, but he’s resorted to deceiving you when necessary. For instance, if you’re experiencing paranoid thought patterns and want to be alone, Tim will hesitantly leave, but he’ll probably secretly monitor you only because he’s worried about your safety. If you’re afraid that others are reading your mind, he might pretend that he invented an anti-mindreading helmet to ease your suspicions. He knows you would feel betrayed if you ever found out about his dishonesty, but he reasons that your safety and comfort are more important in the moment.

Damian

Arguments with Damian are brutal. No matter how insignificant the disagreement is, Damian refuses to back down when he believes he’s right. Paired with your own stubbornness and contentiousness, these quarrels generally result in an impasse. Eventually your anger subsides and the depression sinks in. You might assume that Damian doesn’t love you anymore and that fight was the end of your relationship. Maybe you start packing your belongings to move out right away. Damian comes up behind you and asks what you’re doing. When you tell him that you’re leaving because he doesn’t want you anymore, he’s instantly remorseful. He takes your bags out of your hands and proceeds to pull you in close as he tells you how much he loves you. He assures you that two people can disagree and still love each other.

Damian doesn’t want to argue with you and he certainly doesn’t want to see you upset so he’ll always excuse himself before the argument becomes too heated. He hopes that some time apart will allow you both to calm down and come to a compromise, but it’s never that simple. Most of the time, you’ll need a third-party mediator, like a therapist, to resolve your dispute. The act of seeking out a therapist will be a huge accomplishment for your relationship. Damian likes his privacy and doesn’t want someone else in his business and you might be afraid to share intimate information with a stranger in fear that it will be used against you. Nevertheless, you both want to make this relationship work, so you’ll continue to seek help.

Damian has a habit of being blunt. He doesn’t mean to criticize or insult you – in his mind, he is only stating the facts or his opinion for the purpose of helping you improve. Despite his goodhearted intentions, it’s easy for you to take his comments the wrong way and perceive it as a personal attack. If he sees that his remarks have upset you, he’ll acknowledge all the positive aspects of your performance. Still, you might cling to the disparaging comments and ignore the praise. Going forward, Damian will try to be more encouraging and constructive and will only express feedback if you invite him to do so.

[headcanonsandmore]

For Once

Summary: Hermione and Ron share a tender moment but, as is sadly so often the case, Ron's siblings make it their mission to upset things. Turns out this was one time too many, however.

I always get frustrated when, in fics, Ron's siblings deliberately ruin moments between Ron and Hermione, and recieve no comeuppance for it (even if Ron had suffered yet another hit to his self-esteem) . So here is my response. 

Not bashing but definitely critical of Ginny, Bill, Fred and George, so a warning for that.

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                     Read on FFN.                                        Read on AO3.

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Hermione climbed the staircase of the Burrow. She had been here for a few days so far, and she was loving every moment of it, as she always did whenever she was here. Everything from the Devon countryside, to the food, to the sweet redheaded boy that-

Wait, no. All the Weasleys were sweet, Hermione told herself. It wasn’t like the youngest Weasley boy was especially so.

Oh, who was she kidding? She’d stopped believing that her feelings were just platonic well over a year ago.

Anyway, sixth year would be beginning in about a months’ time. Harry had not arrived at the Burrow yet, but he was expected to be picked up by Dumbledore sometime over the next week. Hermione was looking forward to seeing him. Harry was her best friend and, well, he was like a little brother to her as well. Neither of them had any siblings, although at least Hermione was welcome in her own home.

Her brow furrowed as she remembered the last time she had seen Harry’s aunt and uncle. Both of them seemed deeply unpleasant people. Harry had never really spoken about how he had been treated by them growing up, but Hermione could tell that it was far worse than he would ever let on.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she walked straight into someone on the next landing.

‘Oof, you okay, Hermione?’

Hermione felt her face flush slightly. Of course, it had to be that redhead she’d bumped into.

Ron stared down at her, his blue eyes looking slightly concerned. He was carrying several folded sheets, his biceps slightly tensed and looking more-than-just-slightly attractive. His freckles had multiplied due to the summer heat, and Hermione was very aware that they covered him head-to-toe, seemingly even in places she had never seen (except in dreams that made her flush upon waking). Ron had always been cute but, good grief, when had he gotten so… hot?

‘O-oh, yes,’ Hermione replied, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered she was. ‘Sorry, I was… thinking.’

‘Always dangerous,’ Ron said, grinning. ‘But you wouldn’t be Hermione otherwise.’

Hermione smiled, trying to ignore her stomach flipping at his words.

‘Thanks,’ she replied. ‘Are those for your mum?’

‘Yeah, she asked for some fresh sheets,’ Ron said, as she followed him back downstairs. ‘What are you up to?’

‘I was actually looking for you,’ she said.

‘What? Why? Did mum say something?’

‘No, Ron,’ Hermione said, nudging him fondly with her elbow as they descended onto a landing. ‘I just happen to enjoy your company and wanted to spend time with you.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

Ron’s mouth slipped into that lopsided smile. The smile that never failed to reduce Hermione to a flustered mess, as much as she tried to hide it. It was a miracle that Ron never seemed to notice.

‘Y-yeah.’

‘Good to know I’m wanted,’ he said, grinning down at her. ‘I was-’

‘DRAT!’

Both of them jumped. Ron turned to where the sound had come from, and opened the door.

Mr Weasley was scrambling around on the floor, trying to retrieve his wand from underneath a chest of drawers. His balding head was bobbing up and down in frustrating.

‘Dad?’ Ron asked. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Oh, hello Ron,’ Mr Weasley said. ‘Sorry to yell; it just dropped out of my hand. Looks like it slipped under her.’

‘No worries,’ Ron said. He placed the sheets he was holding onto the bed, crouched down and, with a flourish, retrieved the missing wand. ‘Here.’

‘Thanks, son,’ Mr Weasley said, as Ron handed his wand over. ‘‘I just reinforcing the charms around the house. I see you’re helping your mother with those sheets?’

‘No worries. Yeah, just finished,’ Ron said. ‘Which charms are you doing?’

‘Oh, just the muggle-repellent ones. I hate putting them up, but it’s important for security.’

‘Dad, if you had your way, you’ve been asking the muggles in the villages for plug-making instruction manuals,’ Ron said, good-naturedly.

‘Well, you did inherit my love for all things muggle, Ron,’ Mr Weasley said, chuckling. ‘Wouldn’t you say?’

Hermione couldn’t help noticing that, at Mr Weasley’s words, Ron’s ears went slightly pink.

Don’t be silly, she sternly told herself, she just means that Ron likes hearing about the muggle way of doing things. He… he doesn’t mean…

‘Anyway,’ Mr Weasley continued. ‘I’m almost finished now. Hermione, I believe Ron said that you’ve been doing extra work about charms during the holidays.’

‘Er, yes, that’s true,’ Hermione said, quickly as she tried to ignore her own confusion. ‘It’s fascinating, isn’t it? I mean, all the different ways that charms can be used to obscure and hide things. I’ve always wondered how long it took for the spells to be standardised…’

She trailed off, as she saw Ron grin.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Ron said, his cheeks dimpling under his freckles. ‘I’m never gonna get sick of seeing you all excited about magic.’

Hermione felt her face flush.

Mr Weasley seemed to smile to himself.

‘Well, like I said, I’m almost finished now,’ he said, raising his wand to the ceiling. He began to utter a spell, and stepped forward.

However, his foot collided with an old teddy bear, and he slipped, stumbling over the end of the spell.

Mr Weasley’s wand shot out of his hand, and fired a spell, which headed straight for Hermione.

‘Hermione, duck!’

Before she knew what was happening, Hermione found herself pushed out of harms way by Ron.

The spell hit Ron squarely in the chest. He gave a gentle groan, and fell backwards on the floor.

‘Ron!’

Mr Weasley had hurried over, and knelt down beside his brother. Hermione dashed forward, and dropped down on Ron’s other side. With thinking, she eased Ron’s head off the floor, so that he was resting on her lap. Ron stirred feebly.

‘Mr Weasley, is… is he okay?’

‘He’ll be fine. Just a little confunded,’ Mr Weasley said, smiling faintly down at Ron. ‘I’m sorry, son. Hermione, It’s best if you stay with him while I go and get the healing supplies from the kitchen.’

‘O-okay,’ Hermione said, suddenly aware that Ron’s head was resting in her lap.

‘Thanks,’ Mr Weasley said, moving to the door. ‘Don’t worry; I doubt Ron will complain. He did take that spell for you, after all.’

With a knowing smile at Hermione’s flustered expression, Mr Weasley left the room.

‘Mione?’ Ron mumbled, his eyes still half-closed. ‘W’happened?’

‘You… you got hit by a confunding spell,’ Hermione replied. ‘Your dad’s gone to get you something for it.’

‘You… you okay?’

Hermione smiled.

‘Ron, you’re the one who got hit by it. Worry about yourself.’

The redhead smiled.

‘So you didn’t get hit…that’s good… glad you’re okay, ‘Mione…’

Hermione felt her heart well, as she stared down at the redhead. His smile was happy and utterly genuine.

‘T-thank you, Ron,’ she whispered. ‘You’re… you’re too good to me.’

‘Naaah,’ Ron mumbled. ‘You’re important… especially to me.’

Hermione smiled, as her heart threatened to burst open. Ron was such a lovely person. No wonder she had fallen so hard.

The door opened, and Hermione looked up. Mr Weasley had returned, carrying a medicine kit. Kneeling down, he pulled out a small vial of potion.

‘Here; it’ll take away his dizziness.’

Hermione nodded, and took the vial. She gently tipped the contents into Ron’s mouth. The redhead swallowed slowly, and he seemed to return somewhat to his senses.

‘There we go,’ Mr Weasley said, as Ron sat up, holding his head. ‘You’ll feel wobbly for a while, so wait until the potion takes full effect before standing up.’

‘R-right,’ Ron said. ‘Dad, can you take those sheets downstairs? I think mum wanted them.’

Mr Weasley nodded, picked up the sheets, gave a brief smile to Ron and Hermione, and then left through the door.

Ron seemed to suddenly realise that his head had been laying in Hermione’s lap.

‘Er, sorry,’ Ron mumbled, his ears going pink. He smiled softly. ‘Thanks for looking after me. Guess I behaved like a right twit, right?’

Hermione opened her mouth, intent on telling Ron that he had been brave and sweet, how much it meant to her that he was so kind, and how much she admired him for it.

‘Yeah, “twit” is right!’

Hermione stopped, her mouth half-open. Her eyes widened in horror as she turned towards the door.

Fred and George had walked into the room, followed by Ginny and Bill. All of them seemed to be snickering to themselves.

‘He got knocked right out! Ickle Ronniekins had to be the big brave knight, didn’t he?’

‘Nevermind, Ron,’ Bill said, chuckling. ‘I’m sure Hermione doesn’t mind you dribbling on her jeans.’

Ron’s ears burned further pink, and his shoulders seemed to slump. The smile on his face had vanished, and now he looked awkward, uncomfortable and -above all- resigned.

‘Er, sorry,’ he said, quietly to Hermione. ‘I… I best go help Mum with the dinner. See you later.’

‘No, Ron,’ Hermione began, frantically. ‘You don’t understand! I…’

‘It’s fine, Hermione,’ Ron said, quietly. ‘You… you don’t need to explain anything.’

Still looking unsteady on his feet, Ron walked out of the room. Hermione thought she heard a sigh as the door closed behind him.

‘Come on, Hermione,’ Ginny said, still chuckling. ‘Wait, he didn’t really dribble on you, did-’

‘What is wrong with you all?!’ Hermione cried. ‘Why can’t you all keep your mouths shut?’

The room went very quiet as Fred, George, Ginny and Bill all stopped laughing to stare at her.

‘He was being brave and kind, like he always is,’ Hermione exclaimed, tears began to streak down her face. ‘And you made him think I was just pitying him! Like he was just being an idiot for being so selfless! How dare you?’

The Weasleys all went silent. Hermione didn’t know where her anger was coming from; it could have been from the years of teasing she had seen Ron be subjected to by his siblings, or the fact that any moment between her and Ron seemed to be constantly ruined by his siblings mocking him, or maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t begin to fully explain to Ron just how much she adored him.  All she knew was that she could stay silent no longer. This was one time too many.

‘I’m sick of this! He’s your brother; he’s kind, and sweet, and brave. More than you could ever imagine, and yet you all treat him like he can’t do anything right!’

Her body wracked with sobs, Hermione slammed the door behind her, and stormed upstairs to the room she was sharing with Ginny.

She could distantly hear the sounds of a returning Mr Weasley asking his remaining children why Ron had gone before the potion had taken full effect, and of the other Weasleys stumbling through their explanations.

Good luck trying to explain that to your consciences, Hermione thought, bitterly, as she closed the bedroom door behind her. She sank into the mattress; angry, frustrated but most of all devastated that, no matter how much she adored Ron, it seemed like all of his siblings seemed to act like he could never be anything other than an object of mockery and pity. A clown. A twit who only ever made pratfalls and embarrass his friends.

Or, at least, Ron certainly wouldn’t think they saw him as anything more than that. And that was possibly the worst thing about it.

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Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!

[zemarune]

Diluc's past is slightly mentioned, if you don't want to read spoilers, then please don't proceed further.

   ~ •°《 ｡･:*˚:✧｡ ☆  ｡✧:˚*:･｡》 °• ~

•° Diluc Fluff Alphabet°•

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

The fact that you accept him like he is. You accept that he needs his space and rarely shows any affection without complaining, even though he'd like to change that about himself, he can't help but feel happy that you don't judge him.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your/his body?)

Your eyes. He loves how he can read you through them, the very eyes he feels mesmerized with as soon as he'd look at them. He likes his hands the most. He knows he's good with them (not meant in any sexual way) because of him being a bartender at angel's share from time to time. He also knows that his touch has a great positive effect on you, so that's a plus for him. Diluc can also massage you with them too make you feel good.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He's a secretive person and his PDA level is very low, so there won't be any cuddles if you're not home or in a safe haven alone. If you're home, then prepare to not be able to leave. He'll hold you close to him for as long as he can.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

A typical dinner date with only you two. He'll feel the most comfortable if it's in his home. He, personally, will see to set it up but the food will be made by the best cooks he can offer.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He hardly shows you any kind of emotions out in the open except for his love and admiration. He doesn't want you to worry about him or trouble you. But of course if you ask him about it, then he'll try to show you as much of himself and his emotions as possible.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He'd also love to have a family with you, yet he's afraid of it as well. The world is dangerous and having lost his father, he fears that he won't be able to save you and or your kids too.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving?)

He'll buy you anything you want, there's nothing you won't get. If your gaze lingers on something for even a second, then Diluc will buy it immediately. He sees it as a normal way to treat the person he loves. Tell him to stop and the gift giving might be reduced.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Not in public. Most of the time, he won't show any affection to you if you're outside, as mentioned before. Depending on the situation, of course. If a certain cavalry captain is feeling more flirty than usual with you and oversteps his boundaries in Diluc's eyes, then he will grab your hand and send a destroying gaze to the blue haired male. Other than that, he'll show you tons of affection at your home to make up for the lack of contact earlier!

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

He'll panic. What if you'll die like his father? Will you leave him as well? He'll immediately bring you to the best healer in reach. Blames himself like back then. He's sure he could have protected you if only he would have paid more attention. You wouldn't be in pain then. Of course, if it's a rather minor wound, he'll still worry but not as much. Show him your love and tell him you won't leave, it may not seem like it but it will calm him down.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you?)

He may try to tell you a joke if the atmosphere between you two is very heavy. Otherwise he's serious, he doesn't prank anyone and there are rarely any jokes coming from him.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

In a private place, tender and sweet kisses on your lips or forehead. He's a soft guy, Diluc likes to kiss you on your lips, yet he'd only do so, if he has some time. He wants to make your kisses memorable. If he's busy, then he'll kiss your forehead, cheeks or even the back of your hand!

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Through affectionate words at your home. The presents and physical contact may be nice, yet he believes that words are better, they do speak louder than actions after all.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

When you said yes to his confession. It is the most joyful moment in his life so far. He thought he'll never be happy but then you came along and brightened his world. You even love him back! What could be better?

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Losing you to someone else or in general. Having lost his father before, he's scared of losing another beloved person. Knowing there are people who you could be happier with, who are more open about emotions, who can show and give you the love and affection you deserve makes him slightly insecure about himself.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

The fact that he owns and produces wine, yet doesn't like it and it's taste. It's actually quite hilarious if one thinks about it. On the other hand, it's also cute how flustered he gets when you ask him about it, because it confused you.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

His world. Before he met you, the world he saw and lived in, was filled with sinners and corruption. You cleansed his world, soul and heart. You make him enjoy being in the world he is in. There wouldn't be you in another one. You are his world. And he doesn't wish to leave it. Yet, he'll rarely call you that, it's rather more of a statement. Instead he'll call you darling or love but when you're silently sleeping in his embrace, in that moment you could hear him whisper that you're his everything. His world.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

At his or your home. When he's got some free time and you're available as well, then he'd absolutely love to spend the time with cuddles and a lot affection. Outside he doesn't show you any, so he has to repay you for your patience at home!

R = Romance (how romantic are they? Cliché or rather creative?)

A bit inexperienced but he tries his best to be as romantic as possible for you. Therefor he's more cliché. He'll try to come up with something to impress you though!

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He's pretty open but if a secret can be harmful to you, in his eyes, then he will not mention it. He'll lock it away, so you'll never have to face it. He also intended to keep his doings as the darknight hero a secret, the abyss order is after him and they could cause some trouble, which he wants to prevent from reaching you. Now, someone close to him still told you, may or may not have been on accident too. You'll never guess who let the words slip!

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

He's inexperienced. He didn't know what to say or do. He had to get the confidence and then some tips from a professional, in hope that Kaeya wouldn't joke around and make a fool out of Diluc. Luckily for Kaeya the advice to just confess worked, so he's safe from the red haired man's wrath.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He'll give you the time you need, however he'll be worried for you. He'll give you even more gifts than before in order to make you feel happy again. He'd do anything. After a bit, if you didn't speak to him already, then he will go to you. He misses you whenever you're not with him, even if you're just a door away.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He won't show you off. You're not an object and he refuses to treat you like one. Nonetheless, he's proud that you're his. He loves you and can't imagine someone more perfect than you.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

He'll always fight with or for you. However, that won't change the fact that he's just as worried for you as he'd be if you're hurt. He knows that he, most likely, will be busy with his own battle so he can't protect you as much as he wants to.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He needs some time to adjust to the fact that you're his lover now and to all your reactions, physical as well as mental. In order to not hurt you with words or actions, he has to read you very well, so that's what he'll learn. And he will be able to read you after. He studied you and your behavior almost like Albedo with alchemy. Not in a scary way though!

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

As mentioned before, he tries his best to be romantic, so he'll choose a beautiful scenery as a perfect spot for a proposal. On Dragonspine's highest place for example. You can see almost everything from up there, and watching the sunset is just so mesmerizing! If that's not romantic, then Diluc doesn't know what else is!

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Knowing you're save. Even better if you're in his arms, but the knowledge is working too. He'll go insane not knowing if you're well or not. He'll be worried sick and his mind is running wild with possible worst case scenarios. Having you right with him or knowing you're well will ease his anxiety.

             ~ •°《 ｡･:*˚:✧｡ ☆  ｡✧:˚*:･｡》 °• ~

[floatingbook]

I know you might have answered asks like this before but do you have any advice on getting over a male crush? he’s lovely as far as men go but at the end of the day I know pretty much all men are misogynistic. at the moment I’m not sure weather he feels the same at the moment but I’m wondering if you think I’d be better off just ending the friendship before it gets worse

I’ve never had to do it, so take what you can from what I’ll write below.

There’s no good man. You know that it is, indeed, all men. All men who oppress women and make our lives shadows of what they could be. Try to remember that you’re not staying away from men simply to get validation points from other ‘feminists’ or to follow an ideology. Try to remember that you’re staying away from men as a mesure of safety, as a precaution, as a way to reduce the harm which might come to you at their hands. It’s not a perfect solution, but it already goes a long way to improve your quality of life.

If you feel lonely while pondering your crush, try to rely on your female friends and relatives. Spend more time with them, be the driving force in organising meet ups, invite them to take part in your favourite activities with you. I’d certainly advise you not to pursue anything romantic with that man, and if you feel that staying friends would inevitably lead to it, then cutting him out of your friends is best. You likely have a number of female friends who are more reliable than him, and whom you’d be better served focusing your time and energy on.

Finally, regarding your crush, the attraction you feel to that man, you don’t need to see it as a problem in and of itself. It’s a normal consequence of you being alive in this day and age with the sexual orientation you have. If you’re attracted to men, living in a world in which we are constantly told that a woman’s fate and dream should be to fall in love with a man and give him children, no wonder you’ll develop some crushes at some point on the less obviously misogynistic male specimens which you meet. You don’t necessarily need to get over it. You can acknowledge it. But like all emotions and feelings, you don’t have to act on it. You have to balance it with your own self interest, your own safety, your own well-being. As I’ve said before, “[t]he love you have for people is less an indication of what kind of people they are and more of your capacity to care. It feels like you’re almost viewing your love as a mistake. I’d argue it certainly is misguided and undeserved by your boyfriend, but loving doesn’t make you a bad person. Acting on that love, putting men first above your fellow women, and cautioning their misogyny is questionable though.”

In a more pragmatic manner, if you want to get over it, stop hanging out, stop replying to his messages, stop devoting time to him (and certainly don’t devote any to wondering how he will feel about that). Make plans with your female friends instead. Take up a new hobby for a while, and whenever you feel the need to reach out to him, do that instead (learn a new language, memorise poetry, take up crocheting or origami, try to learn the name of all the plants in your neighbourhood, …). Proceed like you’re trying to get rid of a bad habit.

[damianosismyking]

from the prompt list: 3 or 6 for lamen :) love your writing sm!

Hello dear anon! Thank you so much for the prompts and kind words <3 Unfortunately, this turned out a little long. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

|Prompts chosen from this list! |

#3: “Come with me to the other room” – “We are not going to talk about this now.”

#6: “Here, take my jacket” – “I told you I’m not cold” *shivering*

~~

[1,9K words]

It had everything to be the perfect night, but of course, fucking Aimeric would ruin it.

Laurent had been impossible to convince, deadly opposed to getting out of the house unless it was indispensable, and more so getting out of the house to be somewhere loud and crowded.

In the end, Damen managed to convince Laurent through bargain: if he came with him to this one party his friend was throwing, just this time, then Damen would spend the next three months giving Laurent as many back rubs as he wished without complaint.

More than anything, Damen was just happy to get Laurent out of the house. It did him well to be around people that weren’t Damen or his coworkers for a change. To talk about things that didn’t include slide presentations and spreadsheets and whatever he saw on the TV or read on some site. Shake things up a little.

And it worked wonders. Laurent had found a clever girl with whom he connected and had been chatting for a while. He even allowed himself a soft drink (which didn’t have enough alcohol to qualify as an alcoholic beverage). Damen’s heart lurched as Laurent smiled politely, very obviously entertained.

Convinced that Laurent was fine on his own, Damen left the room to witness a drinking competition unfolding in the backyard. He fully intended to take part in it when the lightweight college boy on the left inevitably passed out.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes. It was just enough time for Damen to step out to the backyard and see the college boy hurl his insides on the grass, and Laurent was poking Damen’s back with a brutal force.

The light quality that had been on Laurent’s face a moment ago had vanished. His jaw was locked, and Laurent seemed angry like Damen hadn’t seen in a while.

“What happened?” Damen asked, but as soon as the words were out, the reason materialized into the backyard.

Aimeric. Fucking Aimeric.

He came hand in hand with an older guy who was not Jord but might as well have been, greying beard, receding hairline and all. Aimeric’s hair had grown long enough to tie up into a bun since the last time Damen saw him. He greeted and smiled a very politician smile at some folks by the pool, making his way to them.

“What are you doing?” Laurent clutched the front of Damen’s shirt. His eyes on Damen were piercing, and Damen knew it was in an attempt to not let them travel east, to the last person any of them expected to see there.

If only Damen had known, he’d never have invited Laurent along. “Let’s go home,” he suggested.

“No,” Laurent replied steadfastly. “I want to see what you’re doing.”

Damen pulled Laurent to his side, a protective arm swung over his shoulders to keep him from view. The issue was that even trying to keep Laurent from harm, the harm had already reached him. Before Damen had a say in it, Laurent was stepping into the place emptied by the college kid, asking the host to explain the rules for the game.

Calling after him resulted in nothing. A second after, Laurent’s hands were tied back, and he was bending over shot glasses placed at the table, grabbing them with his mouth and tossing his head back to drink. He dropped the glass unceremoniously at the table to mouth the next one and the next one, down the line like it was water.

Laurent won, finishing his shots first. The next opponent took the place of the girl Laurent beat. Once again, Laurent won. He was getting ready for a third round when Damen stepped in.

“Come here.” Damen pulled Laurent closer reaching behind him to untie the hands.

“I was playing a game,” Laurent protested but ultimately allowed himself to be untied and dragged away.

Damen returned inside the house, guiding Laurent by the hand. The shots hadn’t hit him yet, but they would soon. Finally, they made it to the kitchen in search of water.

And there was Aimeric too, like a bad presage. In his heart, Damen prayed Laurent would overlook Aimeric with the back pressed to the stove talking to some guy who very evidently drooled over him.

Of course, Damen wouldn’t be so lucky, and Laurent would gulp his water while burying Aimeric with a deadly glare. It certainly didn’t help that Aimeric met the gaze and leaned into not-Jord’s ear to whisper something and giggle.

It certainly didn’t help that it happened again and again. One too many times.

If it bothered Damen, who objectively had nothing against Aimeric, he could only imagine what it did to Laurent to see his ex-friend magically pop up at every location they ran to and very conveniently start whispering to the nearest drooling idiot.

Laurent’s pupils were blown wide already and his lids heavy. It would get worse, and when it did, it was for the best if Aimeric wasn’t anywhere within Laurent’s sight.

“Come with me to the other room,” Damen whispered into Laurent’s ear.

“We are not going to talk about this now,” Laurent’s groggy response. He didn’t even bother masking that he was intently staring at Aimeric, who laughed carefree with not-Jord’s hand in his back pocket.

“Who said anything about talking?”

Laurent tagged along with Damen, wavering behind him. They crossed the restriction rope to make it upstairs, to the room area Pallas may get angry at him for invading.

But Damen knew the place, and he knew that in Pallas’ parents’ room, there was a nice balcony with a bench where he had sat more than once to get high with his friends throughout high school. It opened to the view of the sleeping neighborhood and blocked the noises from the party happening downstairs.

The night was chilly, even for late Autumn. It ruffled the tops of the trees and shifted strands of Laurent’s hair.

Damen started to remove his jacket, but Laurent rose a hand to his face. “I’m not cold.”

Laurent walked right past the bench and propped himself up to sit at the balcony with a leg hanging off each side. Damen went to stand beside him, in case Laurent lost balance.

Laurent breathed in deeply, his head lolling against a column. “I hate drinking,” he said, squeezing his eyes.

“Do you need more water?”

“No. I need to be sober.”

“Water could help you with that,” Damen pointed.

Laurent shook his head lazily. He swayed until his head hit Damen’s chest. “No.”

Damen tilted Laurent’s chin up to peck at his lips. Laurent’s mouth tasted disgusting, but he leaned in with a soft sigh, and Damen kissed him deeper. It went on for some time. When Damen pulled back, Laurent shivered.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Damen offered, tucking a strand of hair behind Laurent’s ear.

“About what?” Laurent said. His speech was even more dragged than before, but he knew precisely what Damen had referred to. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Laurent.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” Damen recognized a sign to drop the subject when he saw one.

He knew, however, that the fallout with Aimeric was still a sore spot for Laurent. And that regardless of his claims, he missed his friend. Aimeric had been one of the few people Laurent trusted enough to befriend, and after the blown-out fight that resulted in them never speaking again, Aimeric changed drastically into the role of one of Laurent’s fiercer – if not to say most dedicated – antagonists.

Laurent had been telling Damen for months that Aimeric fed people lies about him and twisted his secrets to tarnish Laurent’s image all around. Damen had thought it was the paranoia speaking, the way sometimes Laurent thought people were looking at him a certain way or laughing behind his back. But, as it turned out, Laurent had been right. The realization curled Damen’s stomach and boiled his blood.

“Are you going to tell Nicaise?” Damen asked, running his fingernails lightly up and down Laurent’s nape.

Laurent smiled. “I don’t want him to kill Aimeric.”

“Wise.”

Laurent’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. His pupils were so wide his irises were reduced to little blue bands. He shivered, losing a battle against his trembling jaw. “Here,” Damen said, “Take my jacket.”

“I told you, I’m not cold.” A strong shiver followed the statement.

Damen wrapped his leather jacket around Laurent and pulled him close, resting his chin at the top of Laurent’s head, blond strands tickling his neck. There was a good chance Laurent may fall asleep like that, and Damen would have a tough time getting him off the balcony. “Are you going to throw up?”

“No. I think.”

Damen laughed into Laurent’s hair. “Come lay down.”

“I’m not in the mood tonight, Damen,” Laurent frowned.

“I meant actually lay down. You’re barely awake as it is.”

“I’m awake,” Laurent said, but he swung his leg over the balcony and hopped off, staggering on his feet.

It was an easy task to take off Laurent’s sneakers and tuck him in bed, always so impossibly pliable when he had a little too much to drink. He was reaching the worse of his drunkenness, barely capable of keeping his eyes open anymore.

“Please tell me if you need to throw up,” Damen said, sitting at his bedside just to look at him. Even poorly illuminated and wholly wasted, Laurent managed to be the most beautiful thing Damen’s ever laid eyes on.

“Lay with me,” Laurent whined.

“In a minute,” Damen said. He planned to go back downstairs once he was sure Laurent had blacked out, to explain the situation to Pallas and try to save face, but Laurent didn’t need to know that.

“You think Ric is going to hate me forever?” Laurent’s eyes were closed, face going lax. The chances he’d remember that conversation after he woke up were minimum.

Damen ran a finger down Laurent’s cheek. His face was flushed red and warm. “Will you?”

Laurent nuzzled Damen’s hand, pinning it in place with his own. “Probably.”

Laurent’s breathing evened out. He didn’t stir when Damen pulled his hand from under his or when Damen stood. To make sure, Damen whispered, “I’ll be back in a minute,” into Laurent’s ear just to see if he’d react. When Laurent remained the way he was, without a muscle on his face twitching to indicate any part of his subconscious remained awake, Damen snuck out with silent steps.

He’d bring a bucket up with him when he came back. And a bottle of water.

Before that, though, he may have a thing or two to solve with a certain brunette.

[illuminatedquill]

Nevertheless, An Analysis

Do Hyeok vs Jae Eon

Hello, again. Today I’m going to talk about Do Hyeok versus Jae Eon; specifically how love affects both of their characters relationship with Na Bi. Love, as presented in Nevertheless, is the driving factor behind nearly all the actions and dialogue between our main leads. In this post, we’re going to focus on our two male leads and how love acts as a megaphone for their personalities.

Park Jae Eon, Frankenstein’s Creature

“I have love in me the likes you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy one, I will indulge in the other.”

- Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

Jae Eon, at this point in the story, is a man undone. The smooth playboy, content with keeping a safe distance from the women he chases, has crossed numerous lines and broken all his rules for Na Bi. All in the name of love. And Na Bi burned him for it. It was a long time coming and much needed for his growth as a person. Time will tell if he learns from this experience and moves on to a happier, healthier version of himself.

Love, as some people say, is a transformative emotion. I don’t really believe that. I think people can change but not their entire personalities or the core of who they are. I think back to one of my favorite shows, Modern Family, where one of the characters says that people in a relationship can change maybe fifteen percent of their personality. But that fifteen percent can be enough.

Maybe that’s right. But, in my opinion, love is less a transformative element rather than it acts like a megaphone for your personality. It doesn’t give you the ability to do things you couldn’t before but instead allows you to be more of who you are. And that holds true for Park Jae Eon. Love unlocks these deeper parts of him, shedding light on thoughts and emotions long buried from whatever trauma (we still don’t know, thanks writers) he’s experienced.

But does that make him a better person?

No.

It makes him worse. At the end of episode 9, we see him at his lowest; his most manipulative, toxic, and cruel. What he did to Do Hyeok, and how he used Na Bi to do it; it’s not something I could say the Jae Eon from the first half of the series would do. But love makes him desperate and drives him to act on his darker impulses.

He’s become a monster, single minded in his pursuit. He can’t control himself when he’s around her and that does lead to acts of genuine sincerity and kindness. But when she’s not around and spending time with Do Hyeok, that loss of control cuts the other way, leading into possessiveness and rage. There’s no balance with him; it’s all or nothing to get Na Bi back to his side and away from Do Hyeok.

These toxic qualities were always a part of him but they were reigned in because he had not acknowledged his feelings. Jae Eon always kept his distance, preventing something like this. But now he’s drowning in them, lost as Na Bi was (but she had a life raft, a way out: Do Hyeok).

All this leads to his undoing. And the end of his relationship with Na Bi.

Maybe, for a time, his relationship with Na Bi was exactly what she needed; something passionate, stormy, and tumultuous enough to wipe away her pain from her abusive ex. But while storms can clear away anything in their path, they do so by causing massive damage to anything they touch; reducing structures to rubble or uprooting trees from their places and flinging them away. The cure for Na Bi’s pain ended up being worse. She only just managed to avoid the worst of it.

Ultimately it was not meant to be for Jae Eon and Na Bi. They were two people who were unable to find balance with each other and did irreparable damage.

Let’s talk now about his rival, Yang Do Hyeok, and what love’s megaphone reveals about his character. How does his love succeed for Na Bi in a way Park Jae Eon’s didn’t?

Yang Do Hyeok, Love’s Paradox

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt; only more love.”

- Mother Teresa

Yang Do Hyeok is the embodiment of the above quote. He unwittingly joined the rollercoaster ride between Jae Eon and Na Bi but it’s not until episode 8 that he willingly chooses to go for another round. He’s quite possibly the craziest character in the drama; in a sane world, we’d all be advising him to run for the hills while he still has a chance and let Na Bi and Jae Eon’s train wreck of a relationship continue to it’s inevitable conclusion.

But, he’s Do Hyeok and he loves Na Bi. So, he must try.

We see Do Hyeok at his lowest in episode 9; in a similar position to his rival, jealousy and insecurity threaten to overcome him. He can’t focus on his cooking and he’s irritable; his trademark smile is not present. He thinks to himself whether he should give up. Jae Eon’s little trick is hurting him bad and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

So, like Jae Eon, he falls back on what he knows. The hurt is there, but he accepts this is part of the risk in loving Na Bi and he continues to be there for her when she needs him. The megaphone lets Do Hyeok be more of himself, just like Jae Eon, but the qualities that are magnified are his kindness, his sincerity, and his pure, unconditional love for Na Bi.

He bites down on his hurt and continues to love. Where Jae Eon’s hurt poisons his love for Na Bi, Do Hyeok lets the hurt inform of what’s most important to him - Na Bi - and it sharpens his focus and allows him to move past Jae Eon’s trick. He doesn’t hide or shy away from his pain; he reveals it to Na Bi. This further strengthens their friendship to the point that Na Bi, upon discovering Jae Eon’s manipulation, finds the resolve to end it with permanently or else further risk more harm to her relationship with Do Hyeok.

The megaphone reveals something essential about Do Hyeok’s character to us and Na Bi; that in the face of heartbreak like this, the solution isn’t to hide away or hurt those who hurt us. It’s to love more. Trust more. And that’s what he does.

It’s what he’s always done. Because it’s what Na Bi needs and deserves. A partner who reassures and comforts in the worst moments and lifts us up when we feel down.

If Park Jae Eon’s love is the thunderous storm, relentless and all consuming, then Do Hyeok’s is the gentle green of rolling hills and pastures. The storm may come and threaten to shake apart everything but it always passes. And the hills and pastures are still there. And they endure, to grow again and again, no matter the damage.

That is what Na Bi needs. The promise of spring. That life can be good again and that she can be happy, that she deserves to be happy. And her friendship with Do Hyeok is the biggest indication to me that she is going to make it. With him by her side, she can get through this last hurdle.

Do Hyeok’s love is big and selfless. Where Jae Eon wants to possess Na Bi, Do Hyeok wants to simply be the one by her side. And that’s why he’s the last one standing in this rivalry.

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 57

Masterlist

A/N: I've decided to use a more omniscient narrator for this chapter to allow me to jump between povs/places. I hope this isn't confusing, I usually don't write omniscient povs.

----

On the first day, the sun rises to a land drenched in blood. Maybe some of the citizens mistake it for the trick of the light at first, the red morning sun reflecting on the water, but soon enough, they realize that this is no illusion.

The news spread through the land like a great weave, bringing panic in its wake. The river running through the Black Land is essential, its water sustaining the life in the region. There are secondary rivers and wells, of course, but those are turned to blood as well. But Fae cannot drink blood, and neither can their cattle. They cannot use blood to water their crops, either.

The humans are not panicking, although the Fae do not notice this (humans are below their notice, and this goes double when they are currently so occupied with themselves). They are giddy with excitement, even though they are trying to hide it. Having been sent to fetch water for their masters, they were the first to notice something was wrong, and in the beginning, they were worried, but it wasn’t long before the first of them found out that the blood turns back to water in their hands.

In the Seraphim army camp, the soldiers are above all confused. It falls to Drakon to explain the situation to them, as Miryam is still resting in their tent, sleeping so deeply she might as well be unconscious. He keeps his explanations short since he does not want to give any spies who might be listening any important information, but he takes care to make it clear that the curse is set to only affect those who have harmed the human residents of the Black Land, so they should remain unharmed.

Later, in a tent with his army commanders, he goes more into detail. The curse is tied, he explains, to the suffering of the humans here, past and present, and it will continue to punish those who caused that suffering until the humans are freed. As long as they aren’t, things will continue to get worse.

After he has finished, his commanders are silent for a moment. Then, Sinna nods slowly. “If anyone disagrees with this approach,” she says, “you are free to return to Erithia. This decision will have no consequences for you, and no one will think you lesser for it.”

Looks are exchanged, some of them wary, others unsure. No one leaves, though.

On the other end of the country, the Alliance council receives the news of what is happening in the Black Land. Andromache smiles darkly, whispering good riddance to Nakia. Most of the Fae frown, muttering amongst themselves. In the end, a missive is sent out to Miryam, asking her to appear before the council and explain herself. It goes ignored.

In her lavish suite of rooms in her palace, Ravenia receives the news that her rivers are now running with blood together with a letter. It is sealed in the Erithian seal and when she opens it, there is only one word written on the paper: Surrender.

----

On the morning of the second day, Ravenia has the two witchers remaining in her service after Artax’s death herd three-hundred-forty-one humans into a witch circle, making it seven times seven times seven people in the circle in total, and orders them to break the curse. The witchers die. The humans die. And in answer, the earth under them rumbles. Cracks form in the land, running through the ground like spiderwebs.

Out of the cracks crawl insects. Lice and fleas and mosquitos. Within an hour, every Fae throughout the land is covered in itching bites. Some try to flee into the water, but the rivers are still running blood and anyone who does dare to go into that doesn’t last long inside.

Before midday, even the last of the Fae have noticed that the humans are miraculously unaffected by the insects.

Drakon spends the day sending out messengers to all the corners of the country. The message they bear is simple: Free your slaves and this will all end. Refuse, harm them, and it will grow worse until your country is reduced to ashes. He prays they will be reasonable.

A few hours later, Ravenia sends out messengers of her own: Every person who chooses to free their slaves and send them to the Erithian army is guilty of treason and will be executed accordingly.

----

On the third day, the livestock begins to grow sick. No one quite knows where it’s coming from. It’s like the grass has suddenly turned poisonous, even if this poison affects only domesticated animals. By now, people are truly beginning to panic. The water being turned to blood is already bad, but most of them still hope it will be turned back to water soon enough. Dead livestock remains dead, though, and it might cause problems for years to come.

Miryam is still in pain from the spell by then, but it is manageable enough that she feels she can probably get up without falling over immediately. Gritting her teeth, she forces herself into a sitting position on her bed and begins to fumble for some proper clothes. Getting dressed takes thrice as long as usual, but she does manage to stand without falling over, which she counts as a victory. (Less fortunate is the fact that her power is still drained.)

Slowly, Miryam pushes the tent’s entrance open. As soon as she steps outside, the entire camp seems to freeze. The soldiers, who went about their activities until a moment ago, stop mid-motion to stare at her. After a heartbeat, they seem to realize what they are doing and quickly look away, most of them returning to their activities with a stiffness that wasn’t there before.

Miryam desperately wants to tell them that they needn’t be nervous about her, but she forces herself to ignore the awkwardness. If they are scared of her, she will not make it better by calling them out on it. At least the humans don’t seem to be wary of her when she visits their camp – they are more excited than anything – and as the day progresses, the Seraphim relax as well.

In Lako, Ravenia’s situation is growing worse by the hour. Not only is her entire body itching dur to these cursed fleas, she is also under more and more pressure from her nobles. They want to see her acting, and ideally not in a way that sets of a plague of insects all over their country. The last thing Ravenia wants is to show any weakness to Miryam, but right now, another meeting seems inevitable, if only to convince her people that she isn’t just sitting around doing nothing. If it was up to her, she would simply attack the army camped before her city, but her own army is still several days away, and besides, her people don’t seem all too eager to provoke the person who is currently holding their water reserves hostage. So Ravenia grinds her teeth and sends a letter to Miryam, asking for a meeting.

When Miryam receives the letter half an hour later, she frowns and shakes her head. “I’m not going,” she says. “Negotiations? None of my demands are up to negotiations, and anyways, she isn’t in a position to negotiate.”

Of course, if Miryam doesn’t go, Ravenia might use it to pretend that there is no peace because Miryam refuses negotiations. On the other hand, if she does go, Ravenia will just as easily be able to pretend that it was Miryam who caused negotiations to fail, since they would be meeting in private this time, away from the palace and any spying eyes. Either way is a mess, and so Miryam will pick the more pleasant option, which is not going.

“I’ll go,” Drakon says, and when Miryam turns around to frown at him, he shrugs. “I know she likely doesn’t mean this offer, but if there’s any way to resolve this without bloodshed, I think we should take it.”

Miryam nods. She doesn’t exactly agree – mainly because she really does not think Ravenia will listen to reason before she is on the brink of dying of thirst – but she can understand why Drakon feels the need to try. She feels bad enough about the idea of him facing Ravenia alone that she almost offers to come along, though. But Drakon didn’t ask her to, and since she doesn’t want to look like she doesn’t trust him to handle Ravenia on his own, she stays silent.

Two hours later, Drakon sets out for the meeting with Ravenia. He is nervous, but not as nervous as he was during earlier meetings. He doesn’t think the meeting is a trap, and apart from that, there’s little Ravenia can do to him anymore.

They meet by the side of the Klei river. It is a strange meeting place, lacking all the splendour and grandeur of the palaces that hosted all their previous meetings. To Drakon, Ravenia looks entirely out of place here. He can only imagine her in palaces, surrounded by servants, guards and courtiers. Not standing alone in the blood-stained earth, no companions to be seen.

“I was expecting your wife,” Ravenia says by way of greeting.

She is wearing a long, loose silk dress and her usual golden jewellery, but even her expensive clothes cannot hide the stings covering her entire body. Somehow, she also seems smaller than usual, far less imposing.

In her palace, she always manages to make herself seem more-than-Fae, invincible and untouchable. Out here, with the red river only feet away, though, it is obvious that she is just a person who happened to be born into power.

“Miryam is otherwise occupied,” Drakon says. His voice is even, and he is surprised to find that he isn’t terrified. For once, Ravenia’s mere presence isn’t enough to make him want to cower.

“And what would I have to discuss with you?” Ravenia asks.

“You called this meeting,” Drakon says. “I’d assume you would know why you did it.”

Ravenia lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I called the meeting to convince my country’s nobility that I am doing something to solve this unpleasant curse business. If you had any understanding at all of how politics work, you would know that.”

The jab fails to hit its mark. Not long ago, it would have stung, but right now, Drakon doesn’t even understand why he ever let her words hurt him. She is a tyrant, a monster and slave owner. Cauldron, why does he care what she thinks of his competence as a ruler? If anything, he should take it as a complement if she thinks him a bad ruler.

“You ought to surrender,” he says. “No one died yet, but if you continue to refuse, people will die. Your people. End this now, before any lasting damage is done.”

He doesn’t even understand how there can be any debate for Ravenia, how she can so casually risk her peoples’ lives over an already-lost battle.

“I have no intention of surrendering to you,” Ravenia replies evenly.

“What other choice do you have?” He shakes his head. “You’ve lost. Do you truly want to wait until hundreds, thousands of your people have died before you will finally admit it? Would that satisfy your pride?”

“If you’re so concerned about my peoples’ lives, you should not have set off that curse. Make no mistake, Your Highness – any deaths that will happen in this will be on you and your wife.” She laughs. “Or maybe only your wife, since I doubt she even discussed it with you first. It must be such a relief for you to finally have handed over your country to someone else.”

Drakon stares at her, lightly shaking his head. How did he ever allow himself to be this terrified of her? She is just a person. Someone with power, yes, but a large part of her power also comes from other people allowing her to have power over them. And right now, in their current situation, she has no power at all if Drakon doesn’t play along with her games.

“I don’t need to listen to this,” he says, nearly smiles at the surprise on her face. “I’m just here because I wanted to see if there was a way to avoid unnecessary deaths. It seems there isn’t, so I’m leaving. If you change your mind, send a letter.”

He winnows away without giving her the chance to reply. The meeting might not have led anywhere, he might not have managed to convince Ravenia of a peaceful solution, but still, this feels like a victory, if a smaller and more personal one.

----

On the fourth day, people begin to grow sick. It’s like the sand has turned to acid – wherever it touches them, it leaves boils and burns. None of it is life-threatening, but it is certainly painful.

The council sends another missive to Miryam, demands that she is to explain herself growing more urgent. She writes back this time, a short, polite refusal. The last thing she needs right now is the council meddling in her decisions.

According to her estimations, the surrender should arrive within the day. Fae can go five days without water. They are on the fourth day and by now, even Ravenia should have realized that there will be no breaking this curse. Theoretically, she has until tomorrow, but it would be smarter to surrender now, when her people aren’t yet on the brink of dying from thirst and she still stands a chance of making her position seem less desperate.

No royal messenger arrives, though. Miryam spends most of the day walking around the camp, trying to hold casual conversations with people. The Seraphims’ nervousness around her has eased somewhat, as they seem to have realized that Miryam cursing a country does not mean that she will be acting any differently towards them.

A delegation from Lako arrives at dusk. Miryam’s heart leaps, but then, she sees that these people don’t come bearing Ravenia’s coat of arms. Their expensive clothes mark them as nobles, and indeed Miryam recognizes a few of them, but they were not sent by Ravenia.

The leader is a woman dressed in a long, purple gown. It is cut longer than is fashion, with a high neckline and long sleeves, but even those don’t entirely manage to conceal the boils and stings all over her body. After a moment’s hesitation, Miryam recognizes her as Lady Seliah, one of the higher-ranking nobles in the city. She bows before Miryam, which comes as a surprise.

“Your Highness,” she says, then bows before Drakon who appeared next to Miryam. “Your Highness.”

“Lady Seliah,” Miryam replies, watching surprise flicker over the other woman’s face. Of course, she wouldn’t remember that they have met before. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“We have come to ask, no, to beg you to end this curse.” Seliah keeps her eyes lowered as she speaks. “We will gladly meet your demands – “

“Will you?” Miryam cuts her off, although she keeps her tone pleasant. “Because I think I made my demands quite clear, and still, I have not yet received news of you freeing your slaves.”

Seliah squirms. “Queen Ravenia has forbidden us from releasing them. We would gladly meet your terms, but there is no way for us to do so without risking our lives.”

“Given how easily you accepted my peoples’ suffering – and, in fact, accept the risk to their lives right now – you’ll understand if I find myself struggling to sympathize,” Miryam replies. What is it with these Fae always thinking that no matter what atrocities they commit, they will come out unharmed? Do they expect Miryam to be moved by them suddenly feeling threatened by the very ruler they supported all these years?

“I’m not asking in my name, but in the name of the innocent people who are suffering,” Seliah says.

A noble dressed in fine silks as a champion for the common people. Well, that is certainly something new. If this was the route they wanted to go, you’d think they would have been smart enough to at least send someone who isn’t noble.”

“And it’s the innocents in this country I am thinking of when I refuse,” Miryam replies, deliberately twisting her words. After all, which Fae here is truly innocent? She shakes her head. “If Ravenia is your problem, I suggest you deal with it. And quickly, since I believe you might be running out of water soon.”

If Seliah is angry, she hides it well. She merely bows her head, thanks Miryam for her time and returns to the city.

By sunset, her and the other nobles who accompanied her are dead, their bodies hanging from the walls of Lako, a message to anyone else in the city who might consider going behind Ravenia’s back to negotiate with the enemy.

----

By the fifth day, the earth has taken to trembling slightly every couple of minutes. That’s not the worst of it, though. When the sun rises, it is quickly obscured by a buzzing cloud of insects. Locusts, who descend upon the fields, bushes and trees with a vengeance. Within hours, they have devoured any leaves they managed to get a hold on, destroying this year’s harvest within hours. People are panicking.

And still, there is no word from Ravenia.

This is not what Miryam planned. Ravenia ought to have surrendered by now. She needs to surrender – without any water supply, she has no other choice. Yet five days are almost over. By now, people must be dying of thirst, and still, Ravenia hasn’t sent word.

Miryam wanders through the camp, restless. Something is going wrong, but she doesn’t know what. She supposes it’s possible that Ravenia has people winnowing water in, but they could never bring enough for the entire population. And surely Ravenia wouldn’t sacrifice thousands of her people, right? (Killing thousands of people was never part of Miryam’s plan. She knew there might be casualties, yes, and she willingly accepted it. She did not anticipate that everyone might die, though.)

She figures out what went wrong a few hours before sunset, when a stack of barrels in the centre of the camp she passes for the fifth time that evening catches her attention. She stops one of the soldiers rushing past.

Nodding towards the barrels, she asks, “What’s in those?”

“It’s mostly water, Your Highness,” he replies. “It is customary to keep some storages in case the river gets poisoned.”

Miryam nods slowly, horror dawning on her at the realization and growing worse as she looks into one of the barrels. The water in those barrels is still water. Every river, every will and spring in the entire Black Land is running blood, but a curse on the land apparently does not affect water that is being stored in canisters and barrels. Most of the Black Land relies on water from the river, yes, but the cities would still have some storages, or at least some other beverages like wine, to last them for a few days.

This is all wrong.

Some part of Miryam is glad that at least she didn’t just cause hundreds of thousands of people to die from thirst, but at the same time… It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

It’s the same thing she tells Drakon, ten minutes later in their tent, after having explained to him and Sinna what happened.

“This isn’t how it was meant to happen,” she whispers, more to herself than to anyone else. “They should have been surrendering by now. Fae can’t go for more than five days without water – they would have had to surrender.”

This was the plan. Take away their water and make them uncomfortable. Scare them, force them into a surrender. This was the plan. No one would even have needed to die if only they had been reasonable.

Drakon’s face is dark. “Will Ravenia distribute her water supplies?” He asks.

Miryam flinches. She hadn’t even considered that angle yet. “I don’t know,” she says.

Ravenia will want to keep enough water for herself and her nobles, that much is certain. But at the same time, she will need to appease her subject somehow if she doesn’t want to risk riots.

“To the nobles for sure,” she says after a moment’s hesitation. “Probably also some citizens. But the poorer ones, those who aren’t living in the city…” She shrugs and shakes her head at the same time.

This isn’t how she meant it to happen. The people who will die will still be slave owners, still criminals, but… It wasn’t the lower classes she meant to hit with this. And she knew people would likely die, both from her curse and the consequences that might follow, but she had thought the deaths would be few and far between.

Now, they likely won’t be.

“Alright, then,” Sinna says, crossing her arms. “What will that curse of yours do next?”

“I don’t know,” Miryam says, voice small. She didn’t plan this far, didn’t think it would get this far. (Didn’t really care, if she is being entirely honest.) “This is complicated magic, and I only really planned it out for five days.” Because after five days, every Fae here was supposed to be on the brink of dying from thirst. “The curse is set in a way that will make it get worse, but how…” She shrugs. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell.”

Sinna is silent for a moment. Then, she says slowly, “So you set a curse on an entire country without knowing what it will do should it go on for longer than you planned.” She shakes her head and cuts a glare at Drakon. “Both of you. And you didn’t think that might turn into a problem?” When neither of them reply, she sighs. “Wonderful.”

Miryam stares down at her feet and doesn’t say that she would do it all again for a chance to save her people.

----

On the sixth day, the sun doesn’t rise. Or maybe it does, but its light certainly doesn’t reach the Black Land. Throughout the country, torches are being lit, but even their light barely manages to pierce the darkness that has fallen. It is a darkness that can be felt, thick and heavy like ink.

Once again, the humans get away easily. To them, the darkness feels soothing and while they can’t see anywhere near as good as in light, they can still easily make out shapes.

Many of them decide to use the opportunity while it is there. Their masters cannot see in the darkness – they can. In thousands, humans flee from the cities, vanish from houses and fields and make for the centre of the country where they have heard they will find safety.

In one of the cities to the west, the Fae leadership decides enough is enough. They will not be humiliated by a mortal like this, and they will not allow their slaves to get away unscathed, to laugh at their misery and celebrate their own victory. They will show to that mortal girl who thinks she can force their hand and attack their country, show to every mortal worm what happens when they try to cross the Fae.

They give out the order to have every human in the city brought to the marketplace and killed.

The news spread through the city like wildfire. The humans clutter together, hold on tight to each other and prepare for the end. Most of the Fae stand tightly together as well – but where the humans are silent, they are whispering, arguing. By that time, it is common knowledge that this curse is punishment for slavery, for harming humans. It is also common knowledge that Miryam’s policy for people who murder humans is simple: Execution. In other words, killing a whole group of humans does not seem to be the smartest course of action in this situation.

The large majority of the Fae in the Black Land, the Fae in this city, doesn’t care at all about human lives. They do, however, care a whole lot about their own lives. And right now, they are quickly discovering that they aren’t ready to die so that their leaders can get a brief moment of empty defiance against the people invading their country – especially when those invaders have already promised to be lenient if their demands are met.

Within a few hours, leadership over the city has quietly changed hands. The city council has been, for the time being, locked into the dungeons. After quite some arguments and even more grumbling, the humans are allowed to leave the slave quarters and instead given proper rooms in the Fae’s houses. No one is quite fond of that arrangement, but well, the curse is said to be tied to human suffering, and since no one is quite sure what counts as suffering, being extra careful seems only sensible.

Of course, the story of what happened there does not stay confined to one city. Within hours, all of the neighbouring towns have heard and many of them quietly decide to follow their example. That there is no immediate reaction from Ravenia only makes people grow bolder.

A meeting is called and held that night, with a good half of the Black Land’s city leadership in attendance. After a few hours of arguing, they come to the conclusion that there is only one sensible course of action right now: To fulfil Miryam’s demands even if Ravenia refuses to, and hope that will be enough to keep them safe. They are all aware that Ravenia would have their heads for this decision, but they have long reached the point where a soon-to-be-dead queen is far, far less daunting than what might happen if they refuse Miryam’s demands for any longer.

Throughout the country, Fae are beginning to die of thirst by now. Some are lucky enough to have found water, and the children, as it turns out, can still drink from the rivers and wells, but the death toll still climbs quickly, reaching and surpassing one thousand before midday. Everyone who survives is hungry and miserable and, by now, ready to do just about anything to end this curse. Still, though, Ravenia does not surrender.

----

On the seventh day, a thunderstorm breaks out. Lighting flashes through the sky, piercing the darkness that is still reining in the country for seconds at a time. Thunder roars, and hail falls to the ground in giant chunks, destroying fields and injuring or killing anyone who is stupid enough to be outside. (Notably, it doesn’t hit a single human although some of them have been sent outside to bring in any surviving livestock.)

Throughout the country, cities and villages are beginning to free their slaves and send them on their way towards the capital. Groups of thousands form, slowly marching through the storm.

On the other side of the Continent, the council is horrified. At least that’s what the Fae members keep repeating, even though most of them are honestly more horrified by the idea of what Miryam being able to completely wreck a country within a few days might mean for them than by the moral issue of sending giant chunks of ice raining down on a country. Meanwhile, Andromache is just about ready to punch the next person to talk about how horrifying Miryam’s actions are, especially when these are the people who, through years and centuries past, were never once been horrified by the crimes committed against humans.

She does not see the undercurrent moving through the Alliance, just below the surface of civility and righteous outrage. She does not notice the looks that are being exchanged while the human councilmembers are no looking, the meetings that are held, in secret and behind closed doors. Zeku notices, though, and he watches the events unfold in silence. He could stop it still, he supposes, or at least try to alert someone to it. But he has his own people to think of, and he cannot throw their lives away over a lost cause. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try to warn Miryam, time and again. No one can blame him that she never listened.

The seventh day is also the day when Mor finally loses her patience. She has been watching in silence so far, horror growing with each day, unable to comprehend what she is seeing. In the beginning, she tried to tell herself that Miryam wasn’t harming anyone, that she was just trying to pressure the Fae into doing her bidding, but now, people are dying and Miryam still shows no sign of stopping.

She doesn’t understand. Cannot wrap her mind around how Miryam – Miryam who values kindness and hates unnecessary cruelty – can do this.

Mor has come to the decision that she will make her see reason. This needs to end, now, and somehow, Mor will convince Miryam. She steps out of her tent where she was hiding from the thunderstorm outside and begins to search the camp for Miryam.

The Fae camp is emptier than usual. It seems that even with the storm not affecting them, most of the soldiers prefer to hide in their tents. The humans are out and about, though, sitting about campfires and talking. Some of them must have dragged some of the smaller balls of hail over, and now, children are gathered around as some of the adult divide up the ice between them. They seem to be enjoying themselves. And well, why shouldn’t they? After all, none of the curses ever affect them.

It is that precision, more than anything else, that scares more. Because a spell this precise is no accident, no result of a moment’s desperation. It is calculated, and that makes it worse.

She finds Miryam on the second round through the camp, as she is just about to enter her tent. Drakon and Sinna are with her. Mor hurries over to join them.

“You need to end this,” she says by way of greeting. This was not how she meant to approach the topic, but damnit, there are chunks of ice that are bigger than her raining from the sky.

Sinna arches an eyebrow. “Hello to you, too, Mor,” she says. “Pleasure meeting you.”

Mor ignores her and instead turns to Miryam. “You need to end this,” she repeats. “Before any more people die. Miryam, please, so many people are already dead, it can’t go on like this.”

Miryam sighs. “And what other choice do I have?” She sounds so tired. Looks tired, too. Mor didn’t notice the last few days, but she looks like she hasn’t slept at all since she cast the spell. “If I were to end this now – which I can’t, by the way – what do you think would happen? This is the only protection my people have, Mor.”

On another day, Miryam’s words might have gotten through to Mor. Today, though, she doesn’t even notice the implications of Miryam saying that she can’t undo the curse, she is far too caught up in her horror and confusion about how Miryam can stand there and defend what is happening.

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. “This goes too far, Miryam.” Miryam doesn’t reply and Mor gestures wildly to the sky. “Have you looked outside lately? There are human-sized chunks of ice falling from the sky. You can’t just destroy an entire country for revenge!”

Miryam’s face hardens. “You think I’m doing this for revenge?” She asks.

Yes, Mor does think that. At least partially. If it wasn’t out of revenge, no one would ever do this. Certainly not Miryam, who hates hurting people.

“Does it matter?” She shoots back, voice rising. Heads are beginning to turn in their direction. “There is no reason good enough to justify this! You are killing thousands of innocents!”

“Funny, because I thought I was saving the innocents, and the people who are dying were all slave owners,” Miryam snaps, although she keeps her voice hushed. Then, she shakes her head and her posture relaxes slightly. “Besides, there’s no point in having this argument. I cannot stop this curse – it’s set to continue until the Black Land frees its slaves.”

Mor shakes her head, a chill running down her spine. Miryam couldn’t have… She wouldn’t have… She would never have set a spell to destroy a country without leaving a backdoor to stop it.

“And what if Ravenia doesn’t surrender?” She asks. She wants to take Miryam by the shoulders and shake her until she understands, but from the way Sinna is currently looking at her, she probably wouldn’t get away with that. “What then, Miryam?”

Now, finally, Miryam lowers her eyes. So she does feel bad after all. But it is clear that she still doesn’t regret what she did. To her, this seems more like this is an unfortunate side effect, something she doesn’t like to consider but still willingly accepted to get what she wants.

“Then I imagine the next Loyalist country will think twice before refusing to surrender,” Sinna answers for Miryam. “And now lower your voice. You’re making a scene.”

Mor stares at her like she’s seeing her for the first time. Then, she turns around to Drakon, who has been watching in silence until now. He has to agree with her. Surely he cannot like this any more than she does.

“Drakon,” she says, almost pleading, “you cannot agree with this. Tell me you don’t think this is right.”

But Drakon, Cauldron damn him, merely shakes his head. “Five hundred thousand people, Mor,” he says softly. “We are talking about five hundred thousand people who will all be murdered if Ravenia gets her way.”

Mor gapes at him, unable to believe that he is taking Miryam’s side on this. If there is one person who she was sure would disagree with this, it was Drakon. But well, Miryam is his mate. Maybe she should have expected that he would back her up in anything, no matter what.

She turns back to Miryam. “There are lines!” She snaps. By now, people are beginning to stop and stare, but Mor doesn’t care. “Lines you can’t cross, no matter what! And murdering thousands of civilians is one of those lines!”

“And what would you have me do instead?” Miryam asks. She doesn’t sound angry, just tired. Somehow, that makes it worse. If she was angry, Mor could at least tell herself that this was a spontaneous decision made out of anger or fear, not a calculated plan. “Do nothing and allow them all to be murdered rather than jeopardize my moral integrity? Would that make me a good person in your eyes?”

Mor opens her mouth – and closes it again when she realizes she doesn’t have a reply. The way Miryam puts it, there is no possible reply she can give. She doesn’t know how to explain that this simply isn’t right, and she’s too angry, too desperate to be particularly eloquent anymore. How did she come to be standing here, arguing with Miryam about whether it is okay for her to take an entire country hostage or not?

Miryam sighs and takes a step towards Mor. “You think I like this any more than you do?” She asks. “Believe me, if there was any other way, I would have gladly taken it.”

Mor takes a step backwards. “Yeah, well, I’m sure Ravenia thought she was justified in destroying Erithia as well,” she snaps.

The tension that takes over the room is almost physical. It’s like everyone tenses at once, like the temperature drops by a few degrees. Sinna takes half a step towards Mor, hand clenched to a fist. Drakon grabs her by the arm and stops her before she can get any further.

“That was a sorry comparison, Mor,” he says softly.

“Oh, yes, my comparison is a problem but Miryam casually killing thousands of people is perfectly fine,” Mor snaps.

She is vaguely aware that she should probably take her comment back, apologize. But she is far too angry and she still doesn’t understand.

“I apologize,” Miryam finally says. Her voice is icy, her face carefully blank. “I assumed I made it clear enough what the goal of this campaign would be, and what I was ready to do to achieve it. I wouldn’t want to make you participate in anything you are uncomfortable with, so if you truly feel this way, you are, of course, free to leave.”

“I certainly don’t need your permission for this,” Mor replies, voice equally sharp. “You go commit all the crimes you feel like, but I want no part in that.”

With that, she spins around and pushes through the newly-assembled crowd of onlookers towards the edge of the camp. She winnows away as soon as she reaches the edge of the wards.

Miryam remains standing in front of her tent, staring at the spot where Mor was standing until a moment ago. Then, she slowly looks up at the soldiers who are standing around, staring. She hopes they didn’t hear everything that happened.

“We should probably go inside,” she mutters, pain twisting in her chest. She tries very, very hard not to think about what Mor said, or about the fact that this might just have been the end of their friendship. (Not necessarily, she tries to tell herself. People argue all the time and usually, they find a way to fix their relationships afterwards.)

As soon as they are inside, she slumps down on one of the cushions lying on the ground. She pulls her knees up to her chin and stares down at the ground. Drakon sits down next to her. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand for her, letting it hover inches away from her arm, until Miryam leans against him.

“Well, that was nasty,” Sinna says.

Drakon nods, face tight.

“I don’t want all these people to die,” Miryam says. “Of course I don’t, I just…” She shakes her head, fumbling for words.

She understands Mor’s anger, doesn’t blame her for it, and yet… She never made a secret of it, did she? Time and time again, she said that she would do whatever it takes to free her people. She always, always made it known that she would do anything, cross every line if it meant her people could walk free. So why is Mor surprised now?

The problem, she thinks, is that people use the words “whatever it takes” too casually. It’s just like with the word “hate” – people use it so often, so easily, that it loses its original meaning. When people promise “I will do whatever it takes”, they usually mean “I will try really hard”. There’s always some kind of line, though, something they won’t be able to do. They mean “I will go until a certain point, and if I haven’t reached my goal by then, well, no one can really blame me, right?”

And Miryam doesn’t have a problem with that mindset. People should have lines. It is deeply concerning when they don’t. She doesn’t blame Mor for disagreeing with her methods or not going any further, either. But it’s not like Miryam wasn’t honest.

Besides, lines or no lines, surely what Miryam is doing isn’t that horrible? It is terrible, sure, but Mor seems to be forgetting that the only people who are affected, the only people who die, are slave owners who, through seven years of war, refused to stop owning people as property. It’s not that Miryam wants every slave owner to die, she doesn’t even want these people to die, but they are hardly innocents. Each and every one of them has the choice to free their slaves and convince others to do the same. If they don’t, why would Miryam coddle them, these Fae who committed so many crimes against her people?  Why is it that they get to commit atrocity after atrocity and still be considered innocent bystanders in this conflict?

“I don’t know what she expects of me,” she says out loud, jumping to her feet. She promised herself that she wouldn’t be angry with anyone for being horrified at what she is doing, but right now, she just can’t help it. “That I act perfect about everything? How am I supposed to free a single human if Ravenia can have each and every one of them murdered at will, but I am apparently a monster if I so much as kill a few slave owners?”

Drakon rises as well and puts a hand on her arm. “Mor was just upset,” he says. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Miryam is far less sure of that. For whatever reason, Mor cannot accept what she is doing and she highly doubts that will change.

“It’s a matter of visibility, I think,” Sinna says. “Wars usually kill far more civilians than this, but what you are doing is very flashy. Besides, those deaths are usually presented as accidents – even if they aren’t – while you appear to be attacking civilians on purpose.”

“Well, those civilians are slave owners and I’m trying to get them free the slaves,” Miryam says drily.

“I’m not saying you are wrong. I’m saying people will be more easily horrified by this because it is so visible.” Sinna shrugs. “It doesn’t make sense. I mean, this entire war killed far more civilians than what you are doing now, yet no one ever blamed you for starting it.”

Miryam freezes, staring over at Sinna. Some part of her realizes that she meant well, but… it’s bad enough to think about the thousand-or-so people who died in the last few days. She really did not need to be reminded that technically, every person who died in the entire war is her fault.

This is all too much. Why must everything always be her responsibility? All these hundreds of thousands of lives… no single person should be responsible for so much. It’s always her needing to make these choices, and while she thinks she is right, she really doesn’t have a way of knowing and this is just too much to handle.

She needs to get away.

“You’ll excuse me,” Miryam says, jumping to her feet. She pushes the tent’s entrance aside and rushes out of the tent.

The moment she steps outside, she realizes that this was a mistake. Soldiers pause to stare at her, their gazes almost a physical weight. Momentum carrying her forward, Miryam keeps walking.

Before she has made it more than two steps, Drakon catches up with her. He must have moved inhumanely fast, because he manages to be by her side quickly enough to make it seem like he was walking out with her all along.

“Sorry,” Drakon says as their guards fall into place behind them. “Sinna was trying to be comforting.”

Miryam nods. “I’m not angry,” she says, and she really isn’t. There’s just a wave crashing down around her and she can feel herself drowning and she needs to get out. “I just need a moment alone.”

She can feel Drakon’s hesitation, and his worry. But she isn’t trying to shut him out, really. She just… well. Sometimes, for some things, she needs time alone. And right now, she desperately needs to be alone, and out of this camp, away from watching eyes.

“Can we talk later?” She asks.

Drakon nods. “Sure. I have a meeting, anyways. I should probably go.” He squeezes her hand. “See you later.”

Miryam nods, manages a smile and hurries off. As soon as she leaves the tent, though, she realizes that being alone is an illusion. A group of five guards is trailing her. In the camp, that might have been easy to ignore, but as soon as she leaves it, it becomes painfully obvious that she is being followed.

Still, she does her best to ignore it, but it is simply impossible. For all that these guards are trying to be inconspicuous, Miryam knows they are there. And as long as they are there, she needs to keep up appearances when all she really needs is some time alone with her feelings to sort through them without constantly being under inspection from others. And she trusts her guards, she does, but there is always the chance that someone might be a spy. Or even without ill intent, they might just end up talking in the camp about how their Princess is losing control, and that would be bad enough.

Her hands begin to shake and she can feel a sob building somewhere in her chest. Somewhere close by, a chunk of ice hits the ground, sand spraying to all sides. Miryam abruptly stops walking and turns around to her guards.

“I would like to be alone for a bit,” she says. “Would you please wait here?”

Her guards exchange looks. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but we can’t… I mean…” He hesitates, looking down at his toes.

“A few minutes alone can’t be too much to ask, can they?” Miryam snaps.

Her guards flinch, and Miryam immediately feels bad. Now she is being an ass to the people whose job it is to protect her. Of course they can’t let her out of sight in the middle of a war, in enemy territory. But she really, really needs to be alone right now, preferably before her control fractures entirely.

Miryam takes a deep breath, trying to fight her rising panic, and looks around. There is a ruin peeking out of the sand in the distance. Not much of it is visible, but it might provide some cover.

“I’ll go over there,” she says and points. “And you stay here. That way, you’ll be able to keep an eye on me and I get some time alone.”

Still, Kalirin, the head of her guards, doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “Your Highness…”

Miryam sighs. “If anything happens, I’ll scream. Until then, you stay here.”

With that, she turns around and walks towards the ruin. The sand crunches under her feet and gets stuck between her toes. The camp itself is closer to the river, where the sand gives way to fertile earth and soft grass, but here, she is standing in an ocean of sand. The ruin pokes out of it like a shipwreck, half-buried and destroyed.

The sandstone the building was made of is withered by the centuries, but Miryam finds an entrance. She has to shove a bit of sand aside, but then, there is enough space for her to squeeze through.

As soon as she is safely hidden from sight, her composure cracks. A sob breaks out of her, an ugly, harsh sound, and then she is on her knees, sobbing. She curls up in the tiny space she made for herself and lets the tears flow.

Eventually, the tears stop. Miryam pushes herself up on her elbows and immediately bangs her head on the ceiling. “Ow,” she mutters and leans her back against the wall. She is trembling slightly and her face is probably swollen from all the crying.

She doesn’t want to go back. If she just stays here, she will never have to face the consequences of what she did. (It isn’t realistic, of course, but just for the moment, it’s nice to imagine.) She tilts her head backwards and stares up at the ceiling.

There are figures carved into it. That in itself isn’t unusual – murals and carvings are popular here – and Miryam is about to turn away when she hesitates. Having lived in the palace in Lako for years, she is familiar with the art the Black Land Fae favour as well as the major historic styles. This style is unfamiliar to her, though.

On any other day, Miryam would have dismissed it, but right now, she jumps at the chance to distract herself. (If she is thinking about these carvings, she isn’t thinking about her argument with Mor, after all.) It is too dark in here for her to make out much of the details, so she begins to shove more sand away from the entrance.

It takes a while, but eventually, Miryam has shoved away enough sand that it’s no darker inside the building than outside. (Which means pitch-black in both cases, but this darkness, Miryam can see through with little difficulty.) Now, with more light, it becomes increasingly clear that these carvings are old, far older than Miryam first thought. She twists around a bit to get a better look, brushes some dust away until she can make out one of the carvings, depicting a woman with a spear raised over her head. Her hair is tied back into hundreds of tiny braids, revealing rounded ears.

The woman in the carving is human.

Miryam’s heart leaps. She stares at the carving for a moment, then begins to hectically push away the sand from the rest of them. A group of people sitting around a table. A woman bathing in a river. People celebrating on a barge, a sunset in the background. There are more carvings in the back, but here, the passage gets too narrow for Miryam to squeeze through and there is too little light to make out the carvings.

Every single person in the carvings she found is human, though. And the Fae of the Black Land never depict humans in any way, deeming them too unimportant to commit and effort into creating drawings or carvings of them. Which means…

It means that these carvings were made by humans. Sometime, likely millennia ago, humans built this building and carved scenes from their lives into the walls.

It means that Ghost was right. Long ago, so long it has been forgotten by the world, there were free humans in this land. Maybe one of the women in the carvings is even the queen he talked about, Rashida. This land belonged to them, they spent their lives here in freedom, and they left traces of it in the walls.

Oh, how she wishes Jurian was here to see this.

Miryam runs her hands over the carvings like that will bring the scenes to life, summon some faint echo of the people who once carved these scenes. She so desperately wishes she could imagine what it was like, but she can’t even truly imagine the Black Land under human rule.

In another world, one where the Fae never took this country away from her ancestors, she might have been born free. She might have lived a happy life, never needing to know war and suffering. She might have loved this country as fiercely as she now hates it, loved it as the humans who made these carvings surely did.

In this world, though, Miryam cannot bring herself to feel any sense of positive connection to this land, no matter its history. This will never be here home. But if she succeeds, then perhaps in a few years, other humans will feel differently. If part of the Black Land goes to the humans, there will be human children born in this country who must never know slavery, who will love this land as a home. They will have everything Miryam didn’t, everything humans in the past had.

And if she needs to burn this country to the ground to get there, then so be it.

----

On the eighth day, the sky starts raining fire. It falls from the sky in huge balls, trailing tails of light behind themselves like comets. Maybe the first Fae to see them in the dark mistook them for shooting stars, or marvelled at their beauty. Maybe some even thought the sudden light in the sky might signal an end to this horrible curse.

They soon learn better.

Where the ice was devastating, the fire is worse. It slams through houses, through wood and stone as if it where paper and sets everything in its wake on fire. Soon enough, the darkness that is still reining throughout the country is replaced by the flickering, orange glow of flames devouring anything in their paths. Throughout the villages and cities, Fae are rushing around, trying desperately to put out the fires, forced to resort to blood from the river instead of water. It isn’t enough, though. Even the fire magic so many of the High Fae here have doesn’t manage to keep the flames at bay.

Miryam watches the flames from afar. The human and Seraphim camp is still dark around her, untouched by the flames, but she can make out Lako in the distance, a glowing orb orange light. She wonders if Ravenia is there, wonders how she feels to see her city go up in flames around her. For a brief moment, she wishes she could see the look on her face.

The triumph that flickers through her at the thought is short-lived. For the most part, she feels terrible. If she is being entirely honest, though, terrible is all she allows herself to feel. If she only feels bad enough about herself, maybe the guilt and horror will be able to drown out the part of her that rejoices at the sight of the city she hated so much in flames, these people who caused her and her people so much pain finally paying for it, Ravenia’s kingdom that was built on human blood crumbling around her.

Miryam could have lived, she thinks, without knowing that she is capable of watching a country burn, knowing that this will cost thousands of lives, and feeling triumphant.

Only a few miles away in Lako, Ravenia stands on one of the many balconies in her palace and stares out at her burning city. All day long, people have been rushing around, trying to put out the flames, but what good does it do when new fire keeps falling from the sky without pause? Even now, comets of fire are shooting down towards her city, tearing through buildings and people. Destroying millennia old buildings, killing and burning.

Ravenia tears her eyes away from the flames and looks out into the darkness where she knows the mortal worm who caused all this has set her camp. Oh, what she would give to see her head spiked to the castle walls. She would set fire to her capital herself, burn down each and every house by hand, if it means that she could get her hands on Miryam in exchange.

She knows, though, that Miryam is beyond her reach. With her army refusing orders, she has no way to get to the girl and she knows that by tomorrow, it will all be over anyways.

If it was up to her, she would take this to the bitter end. Let Miryam burn down the entire country, but Ravenia would see to it that she doesn’t get a single human out alive. She would kill them all and leave Miryam alone in the ashes, choking on her empty victory.

But Ravenia’s people are cowards. Weak-willed, traitorous cowards. Even now, she can see them gathering in the streets, whispering, cursing her name. They have been at it for some time now. Yesterday, when the hail started, Ravenia’s spies first reported that they were talking of an uprising, but now that it’s fire raining from the sky instead of ice, they are actually ready to go through with it.

Ravenia does not wish to surrender. Everything in her rebels against the idea of admitting defeat against a mortal worm, one of her former slaves no less. Yet she doesn’t doubt that if she doesn’t, her own people will drag her out of her palace and tear her apart with their bare hands. Maybe they will send her head to Miryam along with the surrender whoever they chose as their leader will sign, and while the idea of having to surrender and be exiled or executed stings, being usurped and killed by her own people is even more unbearable. If this is the end, then at least she will face it proudly.

Ravenia does not wish to surrender. But in the end, surrender she does.

----

On the ninth day, the sun rises to a destroyed country. The rivers may be running water again, but the end of the curse did not erase its effects. The fields are still destroyed, most of the land burned to ashes, the buildings in ruins. Thousands of people dead.

The palace is deserted. Putting Ravenia and her highest-ranking government officials in chains and sending them to Telique was the first thing Miryam and Drakon did upon taking control of the city. The nobles who were not imprisoned fled to their estates in the countryside, apparently fearing that the invaders might change their minds, and any humans who used to work here have no desire to return.

Miryam had no desire to return, either, and yet she did. Drakon merely shook his head when she asked him if he wanted to return to the palace one last time, but she felt she had to go and so she went.

Slowly, she walks through the deserted halls. There are a million memories connected to this place, and not a single one of them good. She isn’t entirely sure what she is looking for. Some sort of closure, perhaps. Not healing – that will take years and years still – but something to help her make her peace. She knows Drakon found it during his meeting with Ravenia, but when Miryam saw the queen being marched off in chains earlier, she only felt a bitter satisfaction. It doesn’t make the memories of what happened sting less, though.

She reaches the throne room. No guards to be seen, she pushes the doors open herself and steps inside. The hall is entirely empty. A polished floor, artfully decorated walls, an empty throne Ravenia will never sit on again. It looks strangely peaceful, deceptively unthreatening.

This is where Miryam watched her mother and so many other humans, more than she can count, die. This is where she stood, day after day for three years, cowering behind Ravenia’s throne. Where she broke into a million pieces.

She doesn’t know what she is looking for. There is no closure here, not for her. For all that she might want to lock her memories of this place away, it is not possible.

But maybe that’s alright. She has won the war, freed her people. Fulfilled her promise. She isn’t fool enough to think that things will be easy from here on, but she has decades to find a way to make it work. Learn to live with the nightmares instead of run from them. Deal with what was done to her, and what she did. Make a world where no one will ever have to go through the same things as her.

She has her entire life left, and she won’t waste another moment of it in this nightmare.

Miryam turns her back on this horrible, cruel place, this lavish palace now turned crumbling ruin. She does not plan on ever returning – not to this place, and not to this country. Slowly, she walks out of the palace gates one last time.

Outside of the city, she finds her people. They are camped below the city walls, thousands and thousands of them. All of them amazingly, miraculously alive. From where she is standing, she can see children running around between the tents, chasing each other. One of them lets out a breathless laugh.

And doesn’t that alone make every bit of blood and pain, every horrible loss and difficult decision that led her here worth it?

Miryam closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sun shining above. I came back for you, she thinks. Nine years and a war and countless deaths between then and now, but I made it. You are free. We are all free.

----

On the other end of the Continent, Ravenia, formerly Queen of the Black Land, is given a truly unpleasant cell. It comes as a shock, at least to her. She is a queen, after all. Surely they are not going to lock her up in a dreary hole like this, even if she is slated for execution? She always knew the Alliance has little manners, but this is even worse than what she expected. (Unbeknownst to her, some of the Fae on the council were in favour of giving her a pleasant suite of rooms, but they quickly got shouted down by their human colleagues.)

While in the Black Land, humans are travelling towards the capital where so many of their peers are already waiting, Ravenia sits in her cell and stares at the wall. While, eventually, Miryam, Drakon, their army and the hundreds of thousands of humans they are escorting make for the Erythrian Sea where they have arranged for a fleet of ships to escort them across the narrow channel into a more friendly kingdom, Ravenia grumbles about her food and the lack of proper entertainment and pretends, for whoever is watching (which, really, are only a few guards), that this cell is her palace and she still queen.

Her solitude is interrupted just over a week after she was thrown into the cell. Emperor Shey steps into the room. He is dressed in a pristine chemise, deep blue coat slung over his shoulders and his light hair shimmering in the candlelight. Ravenia rises, pretending she is as well-dressed as he is, even though her looks have suffered significantly in the last week.

“Your Excellency,” she says. She does not incline her head (after all, she is Ravenia of the Black Land and she bows to no one, even if she is a prisoner). “I would offer you a seat, but I seem to lack a chair to offer.”

Shey nods. “I’m afraid my mortal allies have little sense for hospitality.” He makes to lean against the wall, seems to notice that it is covered in dirt, and wrinkles his nose. “I come with a suggestion,” he says and holds out a hand. A small bronze key lies in his palm, glowing with some enchantment. Ravenia’s eyes dash from the key to the shackles tying her to the walls, then back again to the key.

“It is charmed to allow you to winnow out of the castle in spite of the wards,” Shey says casually.

Ravenia keeps her gaze fixed on the key but doesn’t reach out to touch it. “Betraying your own allies on your day of victory?” She laughs. “Seems unwise.”

“Not much of a betrayal, is it?” Shey shrugs. “You’ve lost the war, and nothing you can do will change that. But if I’m not mistaken, you still have an army under your command – and the person who is responsible for you losing everything would be within your reach, should you get out of this cell.”

Ravenia’s eyes spark. “So it isn’t your precious Alliance you are betraying. Just its leader.” She laughs again.

“I’m getting rid of a problem,” Shey replies coolly. “And you get the chance to get revenge before your death, so I don’t think you get to complain.” He brushes an invisible fleck of dust off his jacket. “Miryam and her husband are marching for the Erythrian Sea, the humans they freed in tow. They have only a small legion with them, less than the soldiers under your command, but they have ships arranged to transport them across the sea.” He shrugs. “Ships are terribly flammable, though, and these might just burn down before they reach them.”

“And I assume you’ve already arranged for someone to set the fire?”

“Me?” Shey laughs. “My people have no fire powers – unlike yours. The idea that I might be behind this seems outlandish, doesn’t it?”

A smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth, but he bites it down. Now is not the time to gloat, although he is rather proud of his plan. Initially, he had considered sending an assassin after Miryam, but that approach seemed far too risky. With assassins, there are always questions, and knowing these obnoxious mortals, one of them might just lay the blame at his feet. But if Queen Ravenia breaks out of her prison and ends up killing Miryam… well, who would ever think him involved in that? After all, she already has a motive, and no one will have reason to suspect anyone helped her flee her prison.

Shey tosses the key into the air once, then catches it. “A bargain,” he says, offering it to Ravenia again. “You get your revenge. All I’m asking in return is that you never let anyone know I helped you.

Something akin to disgust flickers over Ravenia’s face, there and gone in a moment. She hesitates briefly, fighting the pride that forbids her from doing Shey’s dirty work for him. Her thirst for revenge wins, though. “It’s a bargain,” she says, reaching for the key. Only when she has it safely enclosed in her fist does she look back at Shey. “You have even less honour than I thought,” she says.

----

Tags: @croissantcitysucks @femtopulsed @aileywrites

[psych2go]

8 Habits That Destroy Your Emotional Well-being

Our emotional well-being is more important now than ever it seems. With the majority of people quarantined up in their homes, things can get a little… depressing. I mean there’s only so much Netflix and Zoom calls you can take before you feel like screaming out your window.

The worst part is, your favorite TV show only has so many seasons streaming. And eventually, (gulp), there will be no, more, episodes, left.

Noooooooo!

Yes, I know. Pretty dramatic. But what else is there to do all cooped up inside?

The answer may be different for everyone. Take up a hobby, learn a new instrument, color book your way to sanity again. Whatever it is that keeps you going physically, you need to take care of your emotional health as well. So, it’s best not to pick up any bad habits that affect you emotionally during quarantine.

Here are eight habits that destroy your emotional well-being. (Good for both pandemic and pre-pandemic uses.)

1. Suppressing Your Emotions, Especially Anger

While it may seem convenient at the time to go ahead and ignore that sadness or anger inside you, – I mean according to you, you have work to do! – But suppressing your emotions can actually do more harm than good in the long run.

Just because you consciously suppress your emotions, does not mean they go away. Instead, they build up. You should instead express emotions such as sadness, anger, or anxiety to someone you trust. Just imagine what could happen if you don’t allow yourself to release an emotion like anger, and instead let it build up?

“[Anger has] been linked to obesity, low self-esteem, migraines, drug and alcohol addiction, depression, sexual performance problems, increased heart attack risk, lower-quality relationships, higher probability of abusing others emotionally or physically or both … higher blood pressure and stroke,” says Dr. Schinnerer, an anger management coach who was a consultant on the Pixar movie “Inside Out”, an animated film about emotions.

Anger can also lead to insomnia, anxiety, self-esteem issues, and mental or brain fog to name a few.

This is just anger. There are physical and mental problems that can arise from any suppression of emotion it seems. Because if these emotions build up, they will eventually rise to the surface, and likely explode out of you like a volcano!

Just, uh… givin’ you a visual image.

So, what are we supposed to do about all these feelings?

Well, Schinnerer suggests one way to break this cycle, and that begins with mindfulness: “One way to do this, he says, is by becoming more aware of when you’re angry in the present moment, then looking at the emotion in a nonjudgmental and curious way. So instead of beating yourself up, acknowledge how you’re feeling and think about ways to cope.”

So, take a break if you’re feeling anger in a toxic situation, and leave the room. Pretend your favorite pizza dish has just arrived, and you need to ‘pause’ your game. That is, the treacherous game of anger. Level 5: Volcano Eruptions of Fury

Hey, I’m givin’ ya visuals here.

Remove yourself from the situation that’s making you angry, find a place or person you’re comfortable with, and feel the emotions, express them. Do this in a way that doesn’t let you overthink the situation to the point of exhaustion. You’re expressing and letting go.

Let go of any anger, grudges, or anxiety after expressing them. With sadness, express them as well, and try to focus on the things that you value in your life. It can be a good idea to talk with a counselor or therapist if you feel these unwanted emotions persist and are piling up.

Remember, this is just anger. But you can do this with all your emotions. Feel them in the moment, or express them in a calm way. Then let the emotions flow out of you. Like an ocean breeze, in the midsummer air…

Visuals! (I find it helps release them in a… cathartic and healthy way.)

2. Letting the Stress Get to You, and Letting it Pile Up

Similar to suppressing your emotions, stress can find a way to get to you. Now, it is best to express your anxiety instead of suppressing, but what if these stress levels are at an all-time high?

Letting your stress get out of control, by not expressing it or over analyzing situations, can be an unhealthy habit. When stressed, your brain releases a hormone called cortisol. When this hormone is produced in large amounts it can prevent the brain from functioning as it should.

It’s best to take a mental health break when needed if your anxiety becomes overwhelming. With all this time indoors, a few minutes of meditation or doing another activity that calms you when you find yourself overthinking and overwhelmed, may be a good idea. And of course, if you find the stress to be too much, talking with someone and letting these feelings out in a healthy way can help.

3. Not Sleeping Enough

Now, lots of people have poor sleeping habits. Does that make it healthy? No.

Not getting your eight hours of sleep every day has been shown to make things worse for mental health.

What makes things worse is 60 to 90 percent of patients with depression also have insomnia, according to The Sleep Health Foundation. So people whose emotional well-being may already be suffering are possibly causing further health problems by not being able to get their full rest.

Not only do you get grumpy and groggy from not getting enough sleep, but it can also not be good for your emotional well-being in the long run.

4. Bad Posture

According to a study in the Journal of Behavior Therapy and Experimental Psychiatry, upright posture can have a positive affect and reduce fatigue.

Everyone who doesn’t sleep eight hours a night? Stand up straight!

The preliminary study’s conclusions suggested that: “adopting an upright posture may increase positive affect, reduce fatigue, and decrease self-focus in people with mild-to-moderate depression.”

The study is pretty fascinating. You can read directly from the journal here.

5. Not Exercising

Exercise is not only important for our physical health, but for our emotional well-being as well. During quarantine, you may find yourself not exercising as much as before. This can become a habit.

Regular exercise releases endorphins which make us happy naturally. According to an article from MayoClinic, exercise can release “feel-good endorphins, natural cannabis-like brain chemicals (endogenous cannabinoids) and other natural brain chemicals that can enhance your sense of well-being.”

So get out of the house and out to the gym- oh. …never mind.

Get out of your bed! And onto your treadmill! …That is, if you own a treadmill.

Ya know what? A walk should suffice.

6. Negative Thoughts, and Feeling You’ve ‘Failed’, Constantly

Now we’ve talked about suppressing emotions, but what if the negative ones plague your mind, constantly. If you find yourself thinking you’re are a failure, or that you don’t measure up to something, or that you won’t achieve your dreams, or you weren’t who you thought you’d be- Stop it! That’s unhealthy and you know it!

Now, better said than done, right? If these thoughts become habit, you may find yourself not setting any goals at all, as in fear of not achieving them when you do try. Or you won’t even be measured up to something at all because you never left the house to buy measuring tape.

… Anyone?

It’s time to reel yourself out from your own negative thoughts and take a look at the positive ones you are neglecting. You aren’t a failure.

At least… not constantly? Seriously! Nobody can be a failure constantly. So stop thinking about it all the time!

7. Being on Social Media. All. The Time.

As much as you like mindlessly scrolling and pressing the heart button on your friends’ social media posts, posting selfies and photos of your food (Stop it! You’re making me hungry), and posting relatable memes all day- Well… that one is pretty fun.

But! As much as you like spending your undue time on social media, it isn’t always great for your mental health.

I mean, think about it. You’re often hunched over and cramped, staring at a little screen.

Straight posture everyone! Straight posture!

Not only that, but people often find themselves comparing themselves to photo shopped influencers with unrealistic lives. Plus, too much of one thing can tend to be bad, and unproductive in this case.

8. Not Being True to Yourself

Have you ever said ‘yes’ to something, simply because you were peer pressured? Or perhaps you felt that’s what others wanted from you?

Stop it! You are wonderful. So, stop doing things that aren’t true to who you are.

Phew. Gotta take it easy, I know. It’s just, you’re so god dang wonderful.

Everyone is unique. Everyone is different. So why do you tend to compare yourself to others? Or try to please them so much if it’s not pleasing you.

It’s best to ask yourself if you are living your life for yourself, or for others. Following simply what others tell you to do, in a way that is an attempt to change who you are, is likely to leave you suppressing the real you deep inside. And we all know what suppression can do for our mental health.

Taking care of your emotional well-being means taking care of yourself. And if you hide who you are to please others, who are you instead? Why not please yourself in a balanced way? If not, you may be trying to be someone else for the sake of others. And consequentially, suppressing your true values and self in the process.

Who are you? Where are you hiding?

It’s time to create some good habits and say yes to getting your emotional well-being on track.

[hatercube]

sunnflower hot take >:)

okay, okay so. i know that sunnflower is a rly popular OMORI pairing, and don't get me wrong, i like it, too,,,, HOWEVER. here is a post-good ending headcanon that will smash all of ur sunnflower dreams into a million bits and pieces <3

[edit: just want to let anyone else who sees this post that it is 10000% okay to ship sunflower, and this whole post is purely a headcanon that’s been stewing in my brain since last month, and it is only my interpretation and my opinion !]

TW // suicide, anxiety, mental institutions, childhood trauma

Sunny and Basil *cannot* see each other

i have been up for 24 hours and don't know if anything i'm about to say will make sense, so bear with me. it's not uncommon for people who shared trauma to have intense reactions that manifest in their relationships with each other. some people become hyper-attached to each other after the traumatic event, while some people are the exact opposite, and if these people come into contact with each other, it can be extremely detrimental to their mental healths. the latter is how i see basil and sunny (especially basil).

throughout the game, a lot of their interactions come off as stiff and awkward not only because they haven't spoken in years, but also because basil is too emotionally dysregulated to keep up a conversation. he's stuttering, he's sweating--WE ALL SAW HIM. he is an anxious. wreck, and this anxiety directly stems from mari's death and sunny's presence. especially after kel breaks the news that sunny's moving away, we can see that any major changes sunny makes are going to heavily affect basil on a psychological level. this isn't just a problem with basil clinging to the last bit of familiarity in his life, but it would also affect sunny's personal growth if these patterns were to be perpetuated in any future relationship between the two, platonic or romantic. imagine trying to move on from the most traumatic experience of your life, and an old friend you haven't talked to in years, begs you to stay. it isn't healthy for either of them.

FURTHERMORE, in regards to the secret true ending with the special SunnFlower cutscene, i think that it's okay to say that these two are beginning the healing process and are working towards finding peace in their lives separately. this ending doesn't imply really anything other than a mutual understanding that everything they'd been holding onto for years had finally been released, and that they were now beginning their journey of recovery.

i don't think they talk for a long time after the good ending--i don't think they really want to. for sunny, basil is a painful reminder of not only the death of his sister, but also the incident that landed him in the hospital. you don't just automatically make amends with the person that gouged your eye out during a psychotic episode. i think that sunny understands and forgives, but i do not think he feels safe.

for basil, on the other hand, sunny is a reminder of the terrible thing he did to mari's body and also his abandonment issues he got from his absent parents. in my opinion, being the person who strung up your best friend's dead sister into a tree to make it look like a su*cide is worse than being the one who pushed her down the stairs. you can push someone on accident, but you definitely can't hang someone on accident. i imagine there's a lot of guilt in there mixed with a whole lot of other childhood trauma from his neglectful parents that is a cocktail for mental instability. (also would like to point out that basil having the idea to hang her up in the first place is an early sign of extreme mental illness,, that isn't normal and also hints at some kind of emotional codependency or unhealthy attachment he has to sunny.) the fact that basil was pushed so far that he had a psychotic episode which resulting in him stabbing his friend--which by the way was triggered by sunny's mere presence, not an immediate physical threat of any kind--is so telling of his mental state, and i honestly believe that best thing for him would be hospitalization. for a while. if he cannot be safe to himself and others, then he needs to begin his recovery in a rehabilitation center, and who knows when it would be safe for him to be discharged.

to put that last bit in perspective, i've been hospitalized before due to a pretty half ass attempt that i didn't follow through with because i was drunk out of my mind and that landed me five days. five days, and i didn't even do anything, like no physical harm came to me. also, during my time there, i was really adamant about how i was feeling better and said i had reduced SI which is also how i got out of there in that small amount of time. i have no idea how much time someone like basil would have to spend in an institution, but it would probably be more than a few weeks.

if seeing sunny was the final trigger that led up to basil's psychotic episode, then it is completely possible that seeing sunny would only bring up similar dysregulation problems in the future, even after he's well on his way to full recovery.

SO TL;DR

1. basil stakes his emotions too heavily on sunny,

2. for sunny, basil reminds him of his sister's death and incident that brought him to the hospital, leading him to feel unsafe around basil,

3. for basil, sunny reminds him of the guilt in shame of what he did to mari's body (which i think we can all universally agree is much worse than accidentally pushing her down the stairs),

4. sunny's presence pushed basil to a point where he was not safe to himself or others in an extreme manner that borders homicidal,

5. BASICALLY WHAT IM SAYING IS THAT THEY TRIGGER EACH OTHER AND WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HANDLE HANGING OUT FOR EXTENDED PERIODS OF TIME BC OF THE PTSD AND POSSIBLE PSYCHOSIS

so yeah. there it is. if you made it this far, im so sorry.