#people collapse far into adulthood

[furiousgoldfish]

I've talked about the 'burnout' and the 'collapse' traumatized people can experience as an adult, as a consequence of an abusive childhood. I realize I've made it seem like a very scary, painful and debilitating thing to happen, and I want to make clarifications about why it happens, and what can you do to mitigate the effects if you're worried it might happen to you.

One part of it, is that living a life while being traumatized, is much more exhausting than living a life as an emotionally healthy person. A big part of our life energy was spent surviving the childhood, and now, a big part of our energy is being spent pushing the trauma down; this is essential for our survival. A part of our mind is always struggling just to keep bad memories suppressed, to keep all of the fear, anger and grief where it can't actively reach us every second of our life, because we couldn't survive if we kept feeling all of our emotions at all times. It enables us to go thru our day-to-day life, and to keep our life ‘looking’ normal, but it does take a lot of energy, it's like suppressing a volcano from erupting, and our energy is exhausted by it.

This, however, means that actively processing trauma, bringing it up and feeling it, however awful and painful it might feel, will eventually free some of your energy up. I remember getting some of my energy back, bit by bit, as I managed to process my experiences and save them as a long-term memories, instead of the repressed ones.

Another part of it is the amount of tension and stress we go thru in our usual day. Being traumatized, a lot of things will act like triggers, and not all of them have to be the huge, dramatic triggers. Sometimes it's just, seeing a stranger on the street looking dangerous, and tensing up. Someone stands too close or asks you an uncomfortable question, and you're anxious, scared, and you spend the night upset and stressed. Being extra worried you won't be able to do something perfectly, and freezing up. Putting large amounts of energy and time into a project because your worth is now depending on it being perfect, you're always bending backwards to get your redemption. Not allowing yourself to take breaks, feeling stressed and guilty when you rest, not being able to find emotional support during hardships, taking on more than you can handle. Stress-worrying about every event where you have to be in contact with the abusers, or anyone else extorting power over you.

These are things that commonly happen to us, and they all result in stress and tension. This causes all of our muscles to tense up, our fight-flight-freeze-fawn response is always on high alert, we spend hours in the anxious state, not knowing how to calm down state, and during all these times, our body is using every bit of available energy for survival, because we're in a survival fright. That is, extremely draining, like fighting for our lives every second of our day. It's no wonder that afterwards all we want is to curl up in the bed, and forget about everything, just trying to find a place where we could get our body to relax a bit, to let us breathe. Constant tension in our muscles will result in chronic pain, which is another draining thing to go thru.

And trying to live a normal life will expose us to more of these, we are unlikely to be able to avoid the triggers while reaching for success in every area of life. We get exposed to people, to situations, to deadlines, stress, expectations, pressure, public image, authoritative figures, criticism, competition, imposter syndrome, fright that we're not as good as everyone else thinks we are. The stress of all this can be too much, even for a normal person. But for us, it's not only the regular amount of stress; the triggers turn stress into pure state of panic and survival fright. We don't only fear we will lose everything we've ever worked for, we fear that we'll be tortured and psychologically destroyed if we don't deliver expectations. We fear we'll be abandoned and left for dead, and that we deserved it.

This is why we need the collapse. Constantly putting ourselves thru all of this, is debilitating for us. Burning out, and isolating ourselves in our room in order to grieve, fear, panic, and cry, it's one of the best things we can do for ourselves. Crying is a powerful way to release stress, and it will release the pressure on our bodies and minds. Experiencing all of the emotions we're pushing down constantly, will hurt a lot, but it will give these feelings a way to exit our body, so we have less to carry around constantly. Isolating will grant us a protection from triggers. No longer exposing ourselves to triggers opens up the possibility of feeling safe, comfortable and self-protected, and that is a foundation we need in order to start building our lives. We cannot build our lives on anxiety-driven situations that make us filled with dread and panic, it has to be a place of comfort and safety.

The collapse isn't something that is absolutely inevitable, it happens because of the way our life is constructed via abuse. Growing up abused, you're programmed very intensely to live your life for others and to respond to the expectations of you. You're expected to reach success on your own time, without any help or support, while being extremely convenient to everyone else, and while being everyone's outlet for their anger, stress, and pain. You're taught to consider this normal, and to tough it out. You're conditioned to consider every single person in your life, but yourself. You know what everyone around you wants from you, how to adjust to their needs, but you are shut down immediately if you have a want or a need of your own. This inevitably leads to a life built on other person's needs. You're building your life based on what you know, and other people's expectations of you, is all you know about yourself.

So your life ends up in overworking yourself insanely in order to reach everyone's expectations, while never being able to examine what would make your life easy to live, comfortable to exist in, or even pleasurable for you yourself. You end up racing for goals that are not yours, that don't even progress your life in any direction that would be good or useful to you. You end up tangled in the obstacles of capitalism, stressing alone about why this isn't easy for you anymore, trying to reach success that would redeem you in the eyes in your abusers, or in your own eyes. You believe you need this redemption, that things would get better, or even just bearable, if you managed to succeed. You being traumatized doesn't even make it to the equation, you do not hold space for your emotions, you do not see yourself as a human being, worth of support and comfort. Anyone would get broken by this. Everyone, no matter how strong, needs comfort and reassurance in the times of stress. Even when things are going well, everyone needs support. Everyone needs acknowledgment and warmth and confirmation that they're doing well.

Living a life that isn’t set up for your well being, and does not provide you with satisfaction and pleasure, is exhausting. You have to keep it up in order not to offend or disappoint anyone (which is your biggest fear), but you're living your life in desperation, trying your best to complete tasks that are not here by your own will. You end up procrastinating and feeling dreadful, because now it feels like you're wasting your life, missing opportunities and ruining the ones you have. You feel empty because there's no support, nobody cares if you do well, but you'll be tortured if you fail. In those circumstances, not one thing you do is by your own will, it's coerced. This entire life is coerced. Every movement you make to appease, to convenience, is a move against your own will. And doing things against your own will, is traumatizing, and exhausting. Your instincts will eventually act up against it. Your willpower to do things will drain. You'll become paralyzed by the executive dysfunction because your body won't want to go thru with it anymore. Even though you're screaming at yourself that you have to, you have to, you have no choice. Your body will fight you. It will seek a collapse.

Collapse means that you're finally, finally taking your own traumatization into consideration. You're forced to acknowledge you own needs and your own limits; you can no longer tear yourself apart for a life that wasn't your choice. What you needed the entire time, was a life that was built on your own terms. A life that took your desires, needs and mental health status into consideration. Because you can build a life, regardless of how traumatized, torn down or terrified you are.

The collapse will slowly teach you that not being able to do things is not the end of the world. It will slowly show you that rest is something you can no longer reject, and it's not making you lazy, or a bad person. It will create a space for you where you do not answer to anyone's expectations. The shame of disappointment and resting will hurt at first, but it will fade as you learn to develop compassion for yourself, because now you have to. You have to see yourself as someone who's been fighting alone all this time, who is now broken but still alive, and so desperately wants to rest and be comforted, and be free of everything that has broken them.  

And the life you build from it, it will not tolerate stress or pain. You will build it based on your own satisfaction. You will make it as safe and protected as possible, because you do not want to risk another collapse. You will abandon all of the activities that broke you in the past; some of these you will no longer be able to do anyway. Even if it's something you liked, but got linked with stress and abuse, it will become a taboo. You'll find things that bring you peace, and do those. You'll discover what eases your anxiety, and do that. You'll find people who find you worthy of support, and choose them. Your life will become yours, built on your own choices, using the knowledge you have about yourself. It will no longer be a never-ending cycle of stress and tension. And you'll be allowed to be tired, and take breaks, and have days where you're just resting in bed. Your body won't have it otherwise.

Now, I promised to tell you how to mitigate the collapse, and by now it must be obvious. It will be easy for me to write it down, but extremely difficult to do it in real life. Start abandoning the activities that bring you an immense amount of stress. Take anything that stresses you as a real-life danger to your mental health, and steer away from it. Decide that your health precedes anyone's expectations, and treat those expectations as destructive. Abandon all societal goalposts that don't bring you joy, dismiss everything they told you that you should be, or have achieved, by a certain age, these are toxic. Abandon the societal definition of success.

Find a place where you're safe to learn about yourself, what you enjoy, what calms you, what brings you peace. Seek out support even if you don't feel you're worthy, even if it doesn't feel like you have it bad enough yet. The only way to mitigate the collapse is to build a life that doesn't lead up to it. Abusive childhood very strongly sets us up for it, and makes sure we don't build self-compassion that is necessary in order to stop living a life that others have decided for us.

Also, don't feel bad if you don't have a choice but to live like that until you collapse. I couldn't stop it. A lot of us aren't at freedom to decide to stop, and we're not even convinced that things are going bad until our bodies decide it for us. I wasn't able to build my life for myself until I ran away from home, that's where I experienced the most severe collapse, when it was finally safe to do so. I don't regret it. The collapse was natural. It made me self-protective where my parents never did. It forced me to acknowledge my limitations where nobody would ever accept that they're real. It's also not an ideal thing to happen, because you can learn to be self-protective in a kind way, you can acknowledge your limitations with the help of support and self-compassion. This is more of an extreme you-don't-have-a-choice kind of way, which isn't pleasant, and happens only when there is no other way.

Don't be afraid of the collapse. If it happens, it's not your fault. You have not built a life that would lead you to a collapse, and you're not 'actively working towards it'. All of us are just trying our best to survive, to go thru as little pain as possible, and you're doing it too. If you happen to collapse, be gentle to yourself, and reject anyone who isn't gentle towards you. You deserve the rest, and you deserve the safety.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I started doing sex work while still living with my mom?

Warning for sexual mentions(nothing heavily explicit though)

I (18F) can't get a typical job like working in customer service or physical labor because of a mix of reasons. I'm both physically and mentally disabled, for one. I have chronic pain & chronic fatigue so extensive physical labor or any job that requires being up for a long time is out of the question for me, as it would cause me a lot of pain and put me at risk for collapsing or falling asleep due to exhaustion. I also have heavy social anxiety and sensory issues, and despite being in therapy since I was around 11, this hasn't gone away. I still have problems with stuttering when talking to people I don't know, and feel on the verge of panic the entire time. I also can't handle loud noises well- I carry around a pair of headphones constantly but that does mess with my hearing so I couldn't really use those in a customer service focused environment. I'm a full time student as well, and will be for several more years, as I'm going straight into college out of high school. On top of all that, I can't drive yet, as the process was delayed due to concerns that my health issues would make me a hazard on the road, so I won't have my full license until late this year.

I've tried looking for other job types before, but nothing I've been able to find works. I've tried doing art, but it's not easy to get people to actually commission you- I've only gotten 1 so far and I've had commissions open for almost half a year. I've tried content creation but have yet to build a platform big enough to make money from it. I've looked for online focused jobs such as creating captions or proof-reading others work but realized very quickly I'm not equipped/qualified for that job due to my problems with processing audio correctly, and my problems reading and writing correctly first try- I often have to re-read things many times over and re-type things at least once to get it at all correct, as words and letters get mixed up in my brain sometimes or I just accidentally skip over entire words or even sentences. And even then I sometimes still get it wrong. So I'm a pretty slow worker with things like reading, and something that requires listening to something and then writing what was said took so long it wouldn't meet the time requirements a lot of places are looking for in workers for that (that I've seen).

So the only idea I have left for making money so I at least have something to help pay for college and to go towards me being able to move out someday is some sort of sex work. I'm not planning on doing anything super risky, like meeting up with real people or anything that would show my face. So I wouldn't be worried about this bothering my mom since she's not really sex negative or strictly against sex workers or anything if it wasn't for one thing. I'm not sure if this will work either. I have a lot of acne problems all over, and problems with picking at my skin that leave scratch marks in a lot of places. And I'm not sure anyone would be willing to pay to look at that. It's not something that bothers me on an individual level, it's just a part of me, but that doesn't really change what other people do or don't find attractive. So it just kind of feels disrespectful to be selling that kind of thing in my mothers house if it's not even going to be significant enough for it to matter financially. And, of course, there's always the risk my mom could see it, and I worry it would upset her to see her daughter selling that kind of thing. But I don't see other options left for how I could make enough money to not end up drowning in student loans down the line, or end up living with my mom for many years into adulthood- which wouldn't be fair to her since she's not financially well off either. I don't plan for it to be a permanent job, just something to help me through my college years till I can start working in the field for what I'm getting a degree in or until my issues get well enough I can work a more typical job.

WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[wrathofanempireif]

Wrath of an Empire

Your home world is in ruins, a carcass being torn at by two galactic empires. Years after fleeing the planet you now return as a soldier, a leader. Explore a planet in ruins as you fight to take back your home, or risk watching it collapse all over again as one of the most dangerous enemies the galaxy has ever faced is unleashed onto the battlefield.

Wrath of an Empire is sci-fi fantasy Interactive Fiction set in the middle of a galactic war between two factions of mankind.

Play as male, female or non-binary.

Play as Gay, Straight or Bisexual as you explore several unique romance options.

Fight to retake your home, guiding a group of soldiers and refugees as the galactic war once again comes to claim your homeworld.

Explore your home world, its landscapes still stand tall before you, will they provide you with safety? A tactical advantage? Or will the secrets hidden in the snow drag you and your companions to an early grave?

Survive encounters with deadly chemical weapons, wild animals and a futuristic horror now unleashed on the battlefield.

You are a soldier of the commonwealth, trained since birth to fight the Empire that dares defile the homeland of all citizens, Earth. Now they want to take your new home. lead a group of soldiers and civilians as you attempt to get them to safety while two armies clash around you. Romance a fiery bomb maker, a cool and tempered officer or a seasoned commander as you all try and survive the futuristic battlefield. Will you hold true to honor or cast it aside to ensure your survival?

Notable Characters

Avery [M/F] “The Childhood Friend”

“I lost my home, I will be damned to hell before I lose you too.”

By your side from childhood and now into adulthood Avery is a constant in your life. Boisterous and overbearing at times Avery has decided to match those traits by specializing in explosives. Loyal to a fault Avery will always make the choice that’s better for their friends rather then themselves. Before facing the horrors of the battlefield will true feelings perhaps be admitted? Appearance: 6’3 athletic build, blazing red hair with sharp blue eyes. They have a noticeable powder burn on their left cheek.

Wren [M/F] “The Devotee/The Advisor”

“I can never repay what you did, but I will always be by your side.”

Thrust together by chance Wren is what anyone would want in a right hand officer, calm, collected and extremely organized. Wren comes off as cold to most people, but perhaps you can crack beneath their mask to peek at what lies beneath? Appearance: 5’8 thin build with short raven black hair and dark brown eyes. Always dressed in uniform with not a single wrinkle to be found.

Yi [M/F] “The Veteran”

“That fire in your eyes is all I ever need to keep going.”

Yi likes to believe the best place to get to know someone is the battlefield, where lies drag ones to their graves and truth is found in final moments. Always armed with a large smile and a glimmer in their eyes this commander is a father/mother to their men, having survived countless battles they suddenly find themselves cooperating with a far younger commander who has them second guessing some things… Appearance: 6’0 Heavier build with black and white hair and two bright hazel eyes, (accompanied by a well trimmed beard if male)

Francesco Delamar [M] “The Rebel”

“I’ve closed my eyes to greet death every night for ten years, why do you visit it upon me now demon?”

The pragmatic military leader of the planetary militia holds no delusions of being good. Instead he wages his personal war against Imperial forces with an unmatched ruthlessness. Suddenly his fellow militia leaders begin to drop dead one by one and he gets the feeling someone or something is coming for all of you...

Appearance: 5′7 average build with green eyes, a thin mustache and a notable scar on one cheek.

Ehren [M/F] “The Enemy”

“I had you right in my crosshairs, one pull of the trigger standing between me and victory... And I couldn’t do it.”

Demo Link (Updated 5/28/23)

The Operative/Wrath of an Empire Discord

The Operative Tumblr Post

Wrath of an Empire takes place in the Universe of “The Operative” 

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! Do you have any advice specifically about writing a disabled character that wasn't born with their disability but that was critically injured? Like the first few months. The mindset of going from being abled to disabled and figuring stuff out. (I don't necessarily plan on writing from their pov because I can't speak on it but they're still a main character and having more knowledge about it would be helpful while writing!)

Hi there, thanks for your ask!

Keep in mind that the way you write this character will likely vary depending on what the injury is, and what the resulting disability is.

I'm going to answer this as someone who became physically disabled with fibromyalgia in adulthood due to a serious injury (spontaneous pneumothorax/lung collapse with long-term healing complications).

Here are some of the things I experienced that a newly physically disabled person might feel in the first months after their injury:

Some degree of confusion or denial. They might still wonder why they haven't fully healed from their injury and can't live their life the same way, because they've internalized their sense of ability so deeply.

They'll likely push themselves too hard multiple times, trying to test out how far they can push themselves without consequences.

They might initially refuse or be too afraid to ask for help when they need it and instead try to push through.

Experimenting with available treatments, like medications, physiotherapy, etc. These might vary depending on your setting.

They'll have a hard time letting go of anything that was important to them that they can no longer do the same way and search for alternative ways to do them where possible.

Reliance on their support system more than ever before. There will be good days and bad days. They might ask for reassurance more often.

They might feel frustrated and lash out when people try to push them past their limits, make insensitive comments about their disability, or draw comparisons between who they are now and who they were before their injury. Comments like, "Once you get better...," or "Stay positive, you never know what might happen," will make it harder for them to go through their natural grieving process.

They will notice ableism far more than they ever did before, especially if they now have mobility issues. If your story is set in the real world, this will feel overwhelming, depressing and infuriating to them, because ableism is everywhere.

They might re-organize their living space to be more accessible to them, and become more comfortable doing things in an unorthodox or unusual way if it works for them.

Re-evaluating their goals, values and desires. They'll start to let go of things they didn't actually want all that much, and focus more on the things they genuinely love.

Seeking connection with other physically disabled people! This will help them accept the changes in their life more than almost anything else.

Keep in mind that these are all personal, subjective, and dependent on a person's circumstances when they sustain debilitating injury. For example, it's easier to cope with acquiring a physical disability if you're financially well-off and can afford specialized medical care, compared to someone who can't.

Writing a newly disabled character can be very difficult as your instinct might be to write self-loathing, depressed characters. I'd advise to steer clear of this, and instead try to write characters exploring new lifestyles and learning new things about themselves in the process. Don't shy away from writing grieving characters, but that shouldn't be the only thing you depict the character feeling! Sure, my life might have been easier on the surface if I hadn't sustained that injury, but it's taught me a lot and I appreciate the emotional growth it fostered in me and the relationships I've built and strengthened in the process.

Overall, remember that a newly disabled character is struggling first and foremost with losing access to things that are designed to be inaccessible to disabled people. The problem the character is facing shouldn't be that they feel bad about being disabled, it should be the fact that they're now reckoning with societal inaccessibility and ableism in a way that they never had to before.

As always, this ask is open for input from anyone who's acquired a disability after an injury!

-Mod Faelan

[lemonhemlock]

If you were one of the writers of the show , how will you write Aegon's character? His development, his bond with his dragon, relationship with his children, wife, siblings etc...

Like how he will be from his childhood to his adulthood + how he will be as a king and how he will become after the war...

Like you free to not use Tom's interpretation or Sara+ryan's interpretation if you don't want to.

I'm interested to know how will you write F&B Aegon and i hope you write it in details if you have time because i love reading your ideas.

What a monumental ask, thank you! This character has had such a hold on me; I can feel the potential radiating off this combination of screen + page. I ranted in the past about how I disagree with the choices they made with him, but they did endow him with an exasperating capacity for greatness, a lot of it thanks to TGC's interpretation.

I do think that Aegon could have been one of the most memorable ASOIAF characters and one of the most thrilling explorations of kinghood. I am not referring to people's already-cemented views of him; I am speaking of building the most compelling version of this character possible within the basic narrative of FB, beyond any fandom sectarian lines. Basically, what I'd like to do with these raw materials is to construct a character that people will love, but that they would find very, very uncomfortable, in a prickling-beneath-the-skin type of way.

I am also well aware that this will start to diverge wildly from canon, so don't feel compelled to point that out. I know already. This is going to get very, very self-indulgent since that was the nature of the ask.

Trigger warning for everything. Needless to say, I'm not writing a wholesome script here.

So let's turn him into this generation's Commodus.

This will mostly be imagery and vibes, because I don't have a lot of plot point thought out.

Some of the descriptive tags I use something when referring to green family dynamics are those of #an incestuous autophagous family gradually violating every boundary until every kind of social role leeches into the next #collapsing onto itself in psychosexual neurosis. Sound very pretentious, I know, but it's basically this idea of House Targaryen retreating within its family unit as a result of trauma, but ending in a process of cannibalization. I would have Aegon be the main exponent of this type of breakdown. So I will usually choose the most fucked-up option whenever possible, but I'd focus mostly on innuendo & psychological fuckery, rather than anything more graphic. I mean, this is a TV show, still.

Consequently, one of the readings that I find the most disturbing (and entertaining) is that of Aegon wanting to crawl back inside Alicent's womb, to revert to that pre-birth state in which they weren't separated, they were still one whole and whatever particles of him lived inside Alicent were safe and warm and protected. I am going to link to a few posts I made that describe this type family dynamic (1, 2, 3, 4, 5). This is pretty intense, granted, but imagine if there were a TV show that had the balls to implement this kind of dynamic. I mean, if you can't realise it within ASOIAF-verse, then where?

So I would have Aegon mirror Alicent in the way that she's trying to keep her family together. Aegon craves his family, he wants to feed off of them and wants them to feed off him. He wants them all to collapse into each other back to that original state of being physical parts of Alicent in a far-away time that coincides with Alicent's girlhood. It's often said in meta that Cersei views her children as extensions of herself. I want the opposite for Aegon, our most self-aware, fourth-wall-breaking character: I want him to know that he is an extension of Alicent. This will only become apparent to the viewer later, because we start in a completely different way.

I'd say that this could work very well, because on screen Alicent & Aegon look a lot alike. The casting directions really pulled through here. Alicent seems to communicate often through touch - she will anxiously grab at whomever she's talking to or she will engage in self-soothing gestures. I'd have Aegon inherit that from his mother, that need to physically connect with his family. He'd like them to hug him, but they don't initiate, so he grabs at them to stop them from leaving or just so he could feel them. In one of these scenes, I'd have him look wistfully at her and say some creepy melancholic shit about how they have the same face. "If you were a man, you'd be me." (IF I WERE A MAN, I'D BE JAIME - IF I WERE A WOMAN, I'D BE CERSEI - you get it. We're running with this).

Similarly, I would have Aegon willing & eager to accept violence from his family as an act of love. As long as his mother slaps him, it means that she loves him, it means that she cares, it means that she deigns to touch him. She can do it in public or in court & he won't react other than being weepy. (fans love this anyway, he's never beating the pathetic wet rat allegations) I'd also give Ser Criston the privilege of knocking Aegon about. Heck, the entire Kingsguard (those who did not desert, at least, because it means they are truly loyal to him). I want to toy with the idea of the trappings of kinghood - the king doesn't have absolute powers, he is a prisoner in his own right OR does he just choose to give them up and be pushed about for whatever reason? I want the viewer not to know what Aegon is going to do, whether he will pull rank or whether he will submit.

For Aemond, I've already provided a few links above on how I'd portray their relationship. With Daeron, I'd have him be ecstatic - finally, someone who doesn't look at him with disgust & disappointment! (Mostly because Daeron has been away for a long time and hasn't had time to be disappointed by Aegon, but, oh, well) Finally someone who will withstand his hugs! I'd have Aegon be very caring-big-brother like.

With Helaena, I'd give him a better relationship, because it's just more interesting to me than to have him another awful targhusband. Aegon is not someone who has a lot of patience, but for Helaena, he could channel Alicent sometimes (IF I WERE A WOMAN I'D BE MY MOTHER) and get through to her.

I've already spoken to death on the issue of their children - the most interesting and toxic option for me is if none of them know who fathered them, but they do not care. Sometimes they wonder, but as a curiosity. The children belong to all of them. They are all Alicent's, anyway. She made them all via parthenogenesis. (this is a joke lol). Feel free to disagree with this, I do not care; make your own AU.

I would also age them up, frankly, because it's ridiculous for teenagers to be doing all of these things anyway. I'd have them be in their early twenties - with Alicent maybe around 38? That's still young, before any of you gets their knickers in a twist. So maybe another 10-year time jump after the eye incident.

I've already written a post on what I'd change about Season 1, but I'll add a few more indulgent changes.

I would give baby!Aegon the white hart symbolism just to fuck with Rhaenyra.

I do like Ty Tennant's Aegon and wouldn't change much about him, except give him more things to do. If I could add an extra episode between "We Light The Way" and "The Princess and The Queen", I'd fill it up mostly with interactions between all of the children. Jace, Luke, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond & Daeron. Have them do stuff separately and together. Show more of Aemond being bullied, but also have Aegon rope his siblings into some silly adventure. Show them how to navigate the secret tunnels. Convince them to sneak out into the city. Do something cute with them, so it's not all doom & gloom.

I would portray young Aegon as someone who is naturally talented but doesn't apply himself. That annoying instinctually smart kid that never does his homework but somehow coasts by. Have his peers be annoyed at this and view him as an arrogant twerp. Make him an arrogant twerp, so it's not just an opinion.

One thing that I haven't really seen discussed all that much is the effect Viserys' illness might have on Aegon. He sees the throne cut his father and infect him to such a degree he becomes a walking husk of a man. He thinks, he knows that one day that will be him. If "all goes well", he will have to sit the Iron Throne and become infected and diseased like that. (This is false, but we'll only realise later. The throne will never cut Aegon. It will hurt him in different ways).

His father doesn't care for him anyway, so Aegon subconsciously rejects all this. He needs constant stimulation to take his mind off this gruesome fate. I would give him Prince Hal energy. Mingling with the common people, bawdy, rude, whoring & drinking his liver out. Perhaps by doing all this, he believes he will disqualify himself from the position? Or that no one would be so mad as to place him on the throne. We could have some fun by showing him getting into street fights over the dumbest shit. Just behaving like a general rapscallion. Yes, I would cut the rape and the child fighting rinks. 🤦‍♀️

I would like to develop his relationship with Rhaenyra somehow. When he's older, maybe entertain the idea of him having the same attitude towards Rhaenyra as Aemond has towards him - jealousy, viewing her as depositing all of father's love, despite her not doing anything to "earn" it. In effect, she is being just as irresponsible as he is, only that she's passing her bastards off ahead of him in the line of succession, while he's drinking and whoring. Yet, he is the only one being looked down upon.

I'd make both Aegon and Sunfyre have a soft spot for children in general. It's a surefire way to get the audience on your side. Show him playing with his own children and being goofy with them.

Blood & Cheese is a very good opportunity to delevop deranged! Aegon. Maybe have him torture and kill Blood himself. In the books, he orders every ratcatcher to be hanged. This can go as dark as you like. If you're really feeling lugubrious, he could kill them himself, one by one (???) Show him in his unhinged era, but also show him comforting his sister and mother. I wouldn't be framing him heroically here; he is turning into a villain. I'd show his family a little wary of him, like all this revenge action is getting too much. Aegon looks back at them and doesn't understand why they're being cagey - this is all for their protection and dignity, don't they see?

I have this idea of a scene of him delegating Crown business to Alicent: open court day, she is hearing petitions. Aegon insists that she be the one sitting the throne that day, not Otto. This image of him waltzing into the throne room, splattered in blood from one of his "interrogation" sessions, the whole proceedings stop, everyone bows down to greet him, Alicent starts getting up from the throne, Aegon says there's no need. His mother is the steward of the Crown. He stands there looking on in fascination as she dispenses justice, because it gets his rocks off to see her wield his power. Have him smirking at people as if to say "this is my power trip as well". I'd also include ambiguous cues that would make fans write essays upon essays on the fucked-up implications. So, for example, I'd have people address Alicent as "The Queen", not the Queen Mother or Queen Alicent or the Dowager Queen, while Helaena would be Queen Helaena. No shade to Helaena - I just think it's a lot more messy this way. I'd like to emphasize how she is the boss of them - the King is just there to be a sovereignty-donor.

I would change a lot of things about the military aspect of the war, so to speak. I would make things more even, not give Rhaenyra so many allies because it makes more sense. No ridiculous Lads army and I'd probably render Cregan Stark irrelevant by the time he decides to march down south. I'd also like Aegon to participate in more battles in his own war. So I would not give him Anakin Skywalker-level injuries after Rook's Rest. There's the southern front with the battles of Tumbleton, there's the western front where the Greyjoy fleet is attacking the Lannisters... IDK. I feel like we could give him more to do in this regard. I have this image of him maybe fighting alongside Daeron, getting injured and Daeron enforcing a shield circle around him to get him to safety. Whenever he is injured and bedridden, I'd turn him into a wet-eyed rabbit crying for his mummy. In relation to Aegon, the audience should feel like they want to push him down the stairs, nurse him back to health, then push him down the stairs again.

When he gets smuggled out to Dragonstone, I need him to use all of his car saleman skills and convince the people of Dragonstone to side with him. This should be Aegon at peak politician. Make the commonfolk start believing in his cause. I'd frame him like a cult leader here for shits and giggles. Maybe introduce some comedic moments to lighten the mood a bit. I'd like to parallel injured!Aegon to injured!Sunfyre somehow. Aegon craves affection and so does Sunfyre. Headcanons here and here.

Getting injured by Morning would be the final straw for Aegon. My idea is for Rhaenyra to take Alicent as a hostage when she flees to King's Landing and have Alicent witness Rhaenyra's demise. Have her beg Aegon for mercy, while he remains cold-blooded. This is her son, her baby boy, the one time he decides to disobey her and not heed her advice is when he decides to kill her soulmate. He holds her tenderly while she sobs and fights to get to Sunfyre. (If I were a man, I'd be Aegon).

This is where we can play with crazy, off-his-rocker Aegon. He wants to behead Baela and needs to be calmed down. He oscillated between wanting to kill Aegon III, geld him, send him to the Wall or cut his ear off. He breaks down thinking of his dead brothers. He keeps at Sunfyre's side all times and weeps bitterly as his dragon dies. He is a river of tears and they don't stop flowing. When Sunfyre finally dies, Aegon orders his bones be transported to KL and placed in his chambers.

He takes his mother and goes back to KL where his daughter is. It's time for demented girl dad Aegon! He keeps Jaehaera with him at all times, while dispensing punishments that oscillate between fair and cruel. He has no mercy for the Shepherd's lambs or pretender kings. He is the King. He keeps Jaehaera on his lap, reads to her, plays with her, entertains her child-like trains of thought. Sometimes he asks her how intense should the punishments for traitors be. (I would not make her "simple" in this re-telling, jesus christ).

Alicent advises him to marry her to Aegon III, so as to unite the two rival claims. Aegon refuses. My daughter is the rightful heir / I will not have Rhaenyra's blood dirtying my throne / Andal Law states that a daughter comes before an uncle, isn't that what you taught me all my life?? He knows that this is the best compromise, so as to avoid another future succession crisis, but he just can't bring himself to do it. He pleads with Alicent, tells her he'll sire another boy on Cassandra Baratheon. He'll fix this. Only the best for his sweet little girl. He'll create a proper husband for Jaehaera, just like his mother created the best wife for him with Helaena. Alicent nods and agrees, but doesn't hope that the future will be so simple for them anymore. "Very well, but until that son is born, why don't you betroth them, just in case". Aegon concedes.

Life is not really that great for Aegon at this stage. He is in a lot of pain, prone to bouts of weeping when he remembers his dead family members and dead dragon. He tries to comfort himself thinking of Cassandra and how he plans on claiming another dragon or hatching an egg (he's never been a hatcher, none of them were). That keeps him going for a few more days/weeks. Eventually, he realises that he cannot keep living this half-life, suffocating with this agonizing need for his siblings and dragon. He will tell his mother and daughter that his love for them is enduring and drink the poison himself.

Alicent marries Jaehaera to Aegon in the world's most depressing funerary wedding. They are all she has left - a girl who looks like her children (and her) and a boy who looks like Rhaenyra (rhaenicent reborn!). I would end the story like PRINCESS Shireen said: "two scared children spouting oaths they didn't understand, all that was left of the mighty House Targaryen".

I would end the series with the image of Queen Regent Alicent of House Hightower, hearing petitions, sitting on the Iron Throne, where her son placed her. The throne never cuts her. It hurts her in different ways. She is so young, still. Young forever. The children look like her children.

[theelderhazelnut]

Rise of the Villains: Darker than Black

Warnings: death, graphic violence, drinking and smoking

Pairings: None

Characters: Ombra (my oc), Erron Black, Kabal, Kano (is mentioned) and two minor OCs

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Nine years after the airplane incident, Ombra who is now the Interrealm Forces Chief goes back to Earthrealm to begin her plan of destroying a mysterious cult along with two mercenaries by her side.

Author’s Note: It’s finally here!! I’m both excited and nervous about this lol. Just one thing: Ombra’s negative opinion about the other characters has nothing to do with my own personal opinion. Also, I appreciate any thoughts and feedbacks!

Taglist: @neonneurons @roofgeese @vivilovespink @darialovesstuff @scentedcandleibex @confidentandgood @spacestephh @takiisieju-moved @sstewyhosseini @inafieldofdaisies @jillvalentinesday @shegetsburned (pls let me know if you’d like to be added)

Nine years ago, June 28th, 8:20a.m

Atoosa Aryan, could now take a relieved breath without the intrusive thoughts regarding the university flooding her head. Two weeks away from that toxic atmosphere, she cherished it. She couldn’t wait any longer to overwhelm her mother’s ears with nagging complaints only to earn some sort of empathy.

   Atoosa took a weary glimpse at the clock on the nearby column: 8:25. She was five minutes away from finally pushing her adulthood to a far corner, and follow her family around like the youngest child she was.

   “Here. Not as tasty as its price, but it’s better than nothing.” Gizem, her older sister, handed her a hot cup of coffee as they collapsed on the bench next to her. The smoky eyeshadow barely suffocated the scream of exhaustion in their hazel eyes, but they did a splendid job at taming their short, teal hair.

   Their phone rang. Gizem pulled it out of their pocket. A long sigh left their lungs before they answered it. Typically, they had at least three of these phone calls related to their engineering projects in one day.

   The next tedious ten minutes passed in utter darkness as Atoosa allowed the lacking amount of sleep flood her eyes. Her brain was nearly letting itself to shut down, the ocean of the chatters gradually subsiding into the void of a dream.

   But the water rose. Shouting replaced talking. The entire ward shook in the waves of terror. Blinking the sleep away, Atoosa was once again seeing her surroundings clearly. She looked at Gizem who was leaning on their knees, staring at their phone screen, their hands shaking uncontrollably.

   “Gizem?” Atoosa muttered. They didn’t flinch. She leaned closer to peer at their phone.

   Her vision fluttered, the words fading away in an annoying blur. The only sentence her sight could manage to recognize was “Boeing 720 flying the route was shot down by two rockets shortly before landing, killing all 176 passengers and crew abroad.”

   The world spun around her head in an abnormal speed. Her heart was torn apart from her chest, and fell down somewhere deep and dark, an abyss. People were silenced, dispersedly moving in black and white blurs. Denial wounded her throat, her lungs longing to shriek, but all she did was to stare at her empty palm. She needed to reread the sentence, she must’ve read it hastily, but she couldn’t dare to even flinch, fearing the reality would touch her.

   But all the doors to a happy, normal life had always been closed and locked. Only the path of misery was lit by her footsteps wherever she ran to. However, it belonged to her, its road was marked as her territory. She was born in it. Her veins were accustomed to be fed with misery; her heart was familiar with the smell of grief.    So she hardened.

+++

July 4th, 12:23p.m

Aircrafts flying in dispersed directions, skyscrapers piercing the gray clouds, the cars being drove on the highways which decorated the view of the city with their flawless engineered patterns, these were the elements of Metalrealm. As it is transparent through its name, metal plays a crucial role in its people’s lives. The inhabitants are the heirs to an ancient form of magic: metal manipulation; this magic is divided fairly among the races that each race has control over one kind of metal.

   Iron benders, cupper benders, and other manipulators of hard and less reactive metals are the best options for the military jobs. They perform well in combat. Ever since the mysterious disappearance of the realm’s protector, which goes back to centuries ago, it is the military’s burden to preserve the people and their sacred form of magic. The military’s factions are assembled under the name of MRD Organization (Metalrealm’s Resistance and Defense).

   Reclining on a chair, Ombra was spending her morning in the balcony of her office. Her eyes still demanded sleep, but she was forcing them to work properly and stay wide open. She needed their full potential during this day. Her gaze passed the other three towers which circulated a much smaller building. In the past years, this home to soldiers and generals had embraced her in its cold arms. She had nowhere else to call home. She did not feel safe enough to. These towers taught her how to be unbreakable as metal, how to stand rigidly like themselves. However, it felt like a slap to her face to think about it from that perspective. If it was not for herself, she wouldn’t be sitting there as one of the most powerful iron-benders, governing the Interrealm Forces faction and having enormous currents of money being poured into her account.

Nine years of running in the path of law and pushing herself to her limits to rightfully earn the status of one the most powerful iron-benders in the MRD was pounding in her veins as she reviewed the upcoming night. Her chest ached in anticipation; in the anticipation of staining her hands with the blood of those who stained her heart. Long ago, she had promised herself to remain loyal to the morals which was taught by her parents, but ever since that cursed day in the airport, she came to realize that morals only build walls around one.

   In conclusion, she ripped herself apart in order to gain the name of the president of the Interrealm Forces faction. It was the highest point she could reach her hand to where she was not obligated to bow her head to any greater boss. Ombra was her own boss who was playing a twisted game even with the law. 

   She saw her phone screen buzzing in the corner of her eyes. It signed that someone is requesting to enter her office. She stared at it. Another presence in her private area sounded like swearing to her ears. A few seconds later, a notification from Ferriel appeared saying “Ombra it’s urgent”.

   He assumed that would give him a license, but he was a comrade after all, so Ombra accepted his request. After a few moments, a man in a uniform stepped in the balcony. His gray skin perfectly matched the weather, and his chestnut brown hair resembled an oxide piece of iron. His brooding eyes avoided contact with her. Ferriel felt as though he was compelled to play the role of a bigger brother for her. When more than the half of the population was rejecting her presence - a half Metalrealmer - he stood beside her and reminded her that she can become more powerful than them. Perhaps he regretted that later on, Ombra guessed, but at least he did not stop doting on her like a mother hen.

   “Atoosa, the new trainees were nearly getting their hands on the gun blades, if I wasn’t there.” Ferriel began with an indifferent undertone.

   People would intentionally call her by her real name hoping to near her interior, hoping to affect her with their rambling words, or so she believed. Those people, also, had a tendency to opt a nickname for almost everything and everyone, and “Ombra” which meant shadow was given to her not long after she commenced her job as the president of the Interrealm Forces. It made her feel even more powerful, so she kept it, and now it had technically replaced her true name.

   He meant those gun blades which were illegally transferred from the Special Forces basement in Earthrealm. Gizem had arranged everything from a hidden corner in their little workshop. Ombra did not bother herself to concern her thoughts for them, yet she was grateful for his watchful eyes in her absence. The density of her thoughts did not permit any other outlandish disturbance to enter her mind. She was fiercely focused on her plan.

   “Thank you.” Ombra mumbled reluctantly. “Well, since you came in yourself I’ll tell you now. I’m going to stay in Earthrealm for a while.”

   She saw that he wrinkled his forehead in surprise. “Why?”

   That question followed up. All of those variations for an answer she had deliberated in the past few weeks dazed her mind. She could simply lie, and then disappeared in the desert with the mercenaries a particular man had hired for her, or she could put the truth on the table before him, exposed and naked. And blindly trust him with this secret which could aim her back as of a sharp dagger.

   Ombra chose a third option. She was definitely in need of a shelter, and that would often be those about whom she did not feel wrong calling friends; the presidents of other factions which Ferriel was one of them. They needed a clue to be able to find her in case she was helpless against their loaded guns and sharpened knives.

   “I made a deal with a man called Kano. He’s in charge of an extensive gang. It’s worth-“

   “Is it about that cult?” Ferriel cut through her words.

   Ombra forced her eyes to remain emotionless as her heart was clenched in pain. Throughout these years, she had shared the process of her researches about the cult with him. His encouragement would provoke her lips to curve into a smile occasionally, and would boost her already eager mind to go further. But she never allowed her harmful desire of trusting him thoroughly to conquer her outlined plan, and suddenly push her down once again.

   “It will help me continue my research.” Another maimed lie. Her research had come to an end a while ago. The cult had gathered an immense amount of followers all around the seven realms throughout the past numerous centuries, the power they held was beyond the comprehension of a peasant who desperately prayed their God for a Spring rain. Therefore, the cultists and the monks created the best opportunity to roam their lives as they pleased, devouring their money using conscious manipulation, and to commit countless crimes derived from their unquenchable thirst.

   However, eventually, Ombra would be the devil they begged their God to harbor them from.

   Ferriel took a long breath. The tides of agony washed away the glow in his yellow eyes. He was always too cautious to not take a forbidden step into Ombra’s land of privacy, so he was apparently convinced by that little information given.

   Suddenly, his eyes sparkled once again. “But you have to watch over the new trainees. You can’t just leave whenever you want.” He was clutching at the threads of excuses to keep Ombra where she was safe.

   “I asked the general to be in charge while I’m away. It’s like a little vacation. Everything is handled. You shouldn’t worry about it.” And with that she was done talking.

   Ombra left her office. Not even a second had to be frittered away. Tiny sparkles of rage were ignited in her legs, charging them forward in an annoying spasm. On her way to the shared office of all four presidents of the military factions, Ombra had to nod and reluctantly pay attention to the agents and soldiers to respond to their greetings. All of them were the same: “Good morning Miss. Aryan!”, “Ma’am.”, “Miss. Ombra”. These were followed up by the occupant blundering away from her path.

   After descending to the ground from the 25th floor, Ombra was tracing the narrow path to a much smaller tower compared to the ones surrounding it. It belonged to the four of them presidents which provided a place for them to have their meetings and related businesses. In the central room, the pitch black in a wide open portal was staring at her, patiently. The light touching the edge of the circle’s perimeter was being absorbed into the void as though liquefied. Beyond the blackness, hunters and mercenaries were anticipating her command to sabotage. At the end of this path, the endless possibilities were dancing in blurry motions. The flame of a war was waiting for a snap of her fingers to erupt.   

Ombra suffocated the tiny chatters of fear in her mind and stepped into the portal. The devil in their sacred stories carved into the back of their heads now had adopted a physical form, and was charging to burn their home in her hellfire, just as they did to her. The nine-year-old rage in her had emerged from every bit in her body, showing its sharpened teeth and claws and ready to devour, break and dice.

+++

   Kano’s truck was unsurprisingly uncomfortable, and that ancient vehicle which was soaked with the smell of rotten oil and sweat was his best offer.

   Ombra chose to drive. Even though Kano and his crew were her business partners for several years now, she didn’t want to let her guards down. Tons of reasons motivated Kano’s already money thirsty ego to stab her back, and Ombra had enough money to guarantee its probability. But he had behaved like an actual fifty-year-old man until then, and had not dared to play with her fire; the fire of an iron-bender.

   The ivory desert was endless from either sides, and driving in it with two mercenary men by her side, following her to the destination, was as though running in a loop. She felt like she’s stuck in the swamp of those cultists hands, and with each pull her grip around her honor, wealth and sibling became looser. They pulled her beneath their kicking feet, and years of sorrow and struggle poured out of her eyes as a colorless blood.

   Ombra blinked the thoughts away, and found herself gripping the steering wheel too tightly as if her life depended on it. She released the breath she did not realize she was keeping captive. Her hands relaxed, and slid down the wheel in a confident motion. It was too much expressing herself through her body language, if those two men were clever enough to notice.

   Erron Black, the man who seemed like he just jumped out of an old western movie, pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. Ombra had been observing each of his subtle movements and analyzing his witty words from the corner of her eyes, hoping to spot a sign of worthy intelligence and skill as Kano had promised her. She had learned that he was quiet experienced, and the small scars on his tanned face and trained muscles were an evidence to that, yet that did not pick up the heavy weight from her shoulders.

   The second man sitting in the back, examining the boxes of diverse weapons, was called Kabal. He used to be a NYPD officer who one day was brutally burnt, and lost his ability to breathe independently from respirator masks which oddly looked like a helmet that covered his whole face. How did he survive was a question remained unanswered for Ombra, but counting his supersonic speed in, she could bring out some legitimate answers herself.

   “I don’t like it when I don’t know what the job is all about.” Kabal spoke after a few moments of silence, his voice sounded slightly harsh behind his mask.

   Kano was appointed for the responsibility to elaborate the job for these two men. Ombra mentally laughed at herself for expecting too much of that always-drunken boss.

   Ombra sighed silently. Although those words creeping on the tip of her tongue would send cold shivers down her spine, she began her speech. “I asked Kano to provide me a vacant flat, so we have a hideout to gather in. I also asked him for a few mercenaries. You two were the only available options for now, or so Kano said. Our target is a certain monastery with the occupied cultist.”

   “Me going there and finishin’ him would save you lots of time. Why doin’ this the hard way?”

   “Because I say so.” Ombra replied firmly, and her glare spoke the rest. Mentally, she thanked him for remaining quiet, and stopping penetrating his unwanted opinion into the situation.

   “This’s going to take us a long ass time, I reckon.” Erron broke his silence. Suddenly, air was not enough for her lungs to claw at, and the black hands of envy covered her eyes. He could see the future, and speak about it as though it was riding his favorite horse. If he had any. That future was a wormhole the other side of which was a totally different time and space, stepping into it could distort her yet she was going to enter it.

   Erron continued. “Assassinating cultists and monks is risky work.” He glanced at Kabal in the rear view mirror. “You gotta use your fast legs in the scene.”

   The words came out of his mouth so freely without sending him to numerous sessions of overthinking and calculating, he was just going to be present there in that scene to earn his money. He knew nothing.

   Ombra’s train of thoughts crashed to the minuscule walls of a cabin standing in the horizon, faded in a dense mirage. With a noisy exhale, she begged Kano for a considerably clean place which was not about to collapse on their heads in a few moments. She halted the fossilized vehicle close to a wooden wall.

   Ombra got out of the jeep, her palm touched the set of the keys in her pocket. Without minding what those two were doing with the arms, she swiftly twisted the suitable key in the oxidized lockset. The wooden door opened with a creak. The subtle, leathery smell of paint thinner hit her in the face, sending small fractions of pain to her forehead. The dusty, worn out furniture included two white couches which were turned brown thanks to the thick layer of dust on them, a coffee table which was barely standing on its legs, a small television and a fossilized refrigerator. The savage sunlight could barely reach through the tight frame of windows. Ombra bit her lower lip. If in any case they were attacked, this cabin would accelerate at killing them first.

   “Didn’t know he had such a…neat place in the middle of nowhere.” Kabal observed the room. “What does he keep here? Dead bodies?” He opened the door to the fridge. “His favorite snacks?”

   The men’s chatter faded in her ears as she sat on the sofa, and pulled out a yellow folder from her black suitcase. Ombra laid the folder open on the wooden desk, and stared at the articles printed on papers. The titles gave the paint thinner a hand to worsen the pain in her forehead. Murder, grand theft, sexual assault. She briefly snatched her gaze to avoid reading the details, the evidence she had spent months to gather. The evidence of a cultist’s list of crimes, Nicodemus Sullivan. The pain and grief dripping from each one of them had been running in her veins for her entire life, and that airplane incident was the final pound. These evidence were waiting patiently to be exposed.

   “Gentlemen.” Ombra called in her usual numb tone. She knew she was lying by calling them that; for now, at least. As they walked up to her once seeing the papers before her, she continued. “The first thing we do is to report these to as to many police stations as we are physically capable. For now, we only go to one. But this task is ongoing.”

   “You hired us for a lifetime.” Kabal said. His tone did not resemble an objecting one. Ombra had promised them a dear price after all. She did not respond to that as the future was still hidden behind a thick fog in a dense forest.

   “And then tonight, I will assassinate this man.”

+++

The bloody orange sunlight poured into the jeep, piercing her blank eyes through the old trees of the police station. The thoughts lurking in her head were thick enough to cover her eyes.

   Absent-mindedly, Ombra traced her fingers on the silver barrel of a gunblade; her own gunblade. Its blade was curved and its body was carved for her to show no mercy. That night, the weapon would stand and shine among the teared flesh and the broken bones of an offender who dared to test her. Her lips trembled into a smile while terror was firing at her heart.

   The bloody orange sunlight poured into the jeep, piercing her blank eyes through the old trees of the police station. The thoughts lurking in her head were thick enough to cover her eyes.

   Absent-mindedly, Ombra traced her fingers on the silver barrel of a gunblade; her own gunblade. Its blade was curved and its body was carved for her to show no mercy. That night, the weapon would stand and shine among the teared flesh and the broken bones of an offender who dared to test her. Her lips trembled into a smile while terror was firing at her heart.

   Kabal’s voice cut through the curtains of thoughts covering her ears, and it was when she realized that she was gripping the barrel so tightly, obstructing blood to reach her fingers.

   “Holding that weapon is a part of the job? Interesting.” He teased.

   Ombra greeted her teeth to avert her savage words to slice his tongue. He was still a man stuck in his childhood years. She still had the capacity to be more patient with him. Erron’s job at the police station was just done, and he was hanging on the edge of the sit, impatient to get to the point already.

   Ombra took a glimpse at Erron from the corner of her eyes. His frowned brows clearly spoke of his disturbance: the disguise she told him to wear at the station. Sending him was the easiest and the quickest way since he looked more human than the two of them. Even though thick layers of defense were visible to Ombra through his manners and the way he chose his words, Erron despised pretending to be someone he wasn’t. However, merely existing around her required some sacrifices let alone expecting an accolade.

   “Now, off to the monastery.” She declared in a low tone.

Her instructions of their next job filled the silence between them until the sun perished behind the hills, and they arrived at the location. Ombra was certain that the news had been at least reached to the civilians nearby, so waiting would merely be a waste of time.

   The monastery stood rigidly among the dense branches of ancient trees. The jagged peaks of its massive columns scolded anyone who dared to stare for too long. The silvery moonlight kissed the sharp edges, but the building remained stoic, not appearing delicate even for a second.

   Ombra heard the grieving cries of her younger self, the little child echoing through those gray walls. They had called her once again. No matter how fast she ran, how far she could hide, their hands would stretch out to grab her and retrieve her to hell. Wherever she went, they followed.

   “We’ll wait for your signal.” Erron said as he hung his rifle on his shoulder.

   “Please, try not to harm the people.” The words toiled up her throat. She was reaching her hands to the edge of the cliff to save herself from falling into the abyss of immorality. Those hands which were wrapped around her gunblade could grope their throats anytime, Ombra was only averting them, holding them back and begging them to behave.

   Erron nodded lightly, and along with Kabal he dashed to the back of the building, disappearing in the thick fog of the night.

   Steadily, Ombra walked up to the massive gate. She stepped in, and an uncontrolled smile raised her cheeks as not even a soul was seen on the wooden rows of benches. They were lonely. The truth about their master was put right on the faithful’s palms, and seemingly there was some bits of brain left in their empty skulls to avoid him for now.

   At the far end of the hall, a black figure hunched on the floor before a pale sculpture of a woman. Either the two men had flawlessly done their job, or the was vacant in the first place. Anyways, the cultist was unbothered.

   Ombra marched towards his direction, head up and shoulders broad. Her black overcoat flew behind her with pride. Her boots tapped loudly on the ground, announcing her presence. The man stood up, and turned to face her. His black outfit forcefully concealed his obese abdomen. His double-chin connected his head right to his neck as though there were never a throat underneath. Ombra hold her hands still to not cut his meat which was well-fed from the faithful’s money, and definitely many others.

   Mr. Sullivan landed his bottom-like eyes on the weapon in her hands. His brows rose in concern, but his voice remained emotionless. “The promised day has come. The avenger is born and prepared.”   

“You know me?” Her voice came out so quietly, hiding the sudden terror behind the walls of her throat.

“No.” Her heartbeat slowed down. “I am merely aware of your intentions. The police will carry the burden of my punishment. You should keep your hands clean for it only adds to your greatest regrets.”

   Ombra had erased all the paths behind her. Should she return and walk rearwards, she would only fall down. She pointed the gun at his belly, the tip of its barrel touching the black fabric. “Did you feel any regrets when you were busy filling this with our blood? With our money? Or when you were building this castle-like church?” She slowly walked up the steps. “You didn’t, you don’t, and you won’t, so will I.”

   “My life is doomed already. After your thirst for blood is quenched, you will be the next target for another victim.”

   “Shut your mouth!” Her voice rose. “You have no idea what being the victim is.” Her knuckles were nearly breaking the weapon. The ball of a lump felt heavy in her throat. She greeted her teeth so forcefully to prevent the tears from pouring down, her brows roofing her eyes to conceal the crimson grief. No, she wasn’t weak. The one that had to break down was him, not her. The images of her past-self, shattered and lost, spun around her head. No, she wasn’t weak. She had control; over her emotions, over everything. He must not see the victim, he must only see a stone which happened to have a body and a face.

   “You will all fall to your knees.” Ombra snarled.

   The thunderous gunshot struck through the air. A silent grasp came out. Nicodemus staggered to his back as he helplessly covered the injury with his palm. Ombra didn’t hesitate. She moved her left hand above her right forearm, the waves of energy poured out of her palm as though it was pierced. She commanded the tides to solidify, and transform into iron metal. The metal stuck to the black fabric, adhering the path of her hand, and sharpening at the end.

   Nicodemus‘s eyes caught a glimpse of what she just created out of thin air. They grew wider. “You-you’re an iron-bender.” The dreaded words snuck out.

   Ombra ignored him. “Those offenders must be punished not by the hands of justice or the law, but by the hands of the devil herself.” Her arm went into position to strike.

   “You are Falkus’s worst mistake. He has failed.”

   Ombra’s arm landed precisely on his face, the iron penetrated the bone and the flesh. The cracking sent shivers down her limbs. “No face, just like your victims.”

   She pulled out her arm, painted red. His head was wide open, destroyed, like everything else inside it.

   Ombra stared.

   She had killed, shot and stabbed before as an act of duty, or defense. But she never really felt proud of it. But this time she tore her opponent apart as of a brutal animal. Disgust punched her in the stomach, the pain evolving into acidic claws which scratched her throat.

   She was an animal.

   “Ombra, run!” Kabal’s shout rang in her ears.    She remembered. The building would explode in a few minutes. Drowning in the lake of her thoughts, and needing Kabal’s hand to come back to reality, however, was not a part of their plan. She darted across the aisle. Punctually, Erron slammed the door open for her to jump out. Just when she stepped out on the grass, the deafening explosion of metal and plaster threw her on her face.

+++

The countless stars above in the infinite, black fabric of the sky shimmered brightly enough to lit the wooden table before her. The endless silence soothed her ears, and emptied her head of the remaining noises of the explosion. Instead, her mother’s voice vaguely rang in her mind. “This cycle of bloodshed won’t change anything. You’ve become exactly like them.” Another wound was cut on her heart, some more inches of her brain were turned to stone.

   I’ll be the change, Ombra thought. Only a monster could destroy another monster.

   Nicodemus‘s perished face flashed before her eyes, and the last sentence he managed to say out loud. “You are Falkus’s worst mistake! He has failed!”

   Falkus, the long lost protector of the Metalrealm, once failed in his duty centuries ago, and she was born. The evident signs to elaborate this rumor -at least to her- were just like justifying the existence of an omniscient creator by the laws of nature. However, the rigid prejudice Metalrealmers hold close to their heart against their sacred, metal-bending magic, has constructed an enormous cage around their world; reproduction with any species from the other six realms was strictly forbidden. Yet centuries ago, someone had dared to break this rule, and seemingly, it was Falkus’s fault. Some said it was the very reason why he was vanished in the first place, but Ombra refused to believe it just yet.

   The door was opened with a soft crack, and Erron stepped into the terrace with a glass bottle in his hand. The dead darkness had coated him in utter blackness, so when his other hand slipped into his pocket, Ombra knew it was a pack of cigarettes hearing the muffling paperboard. To her surprise, he offered it.

   “The cops are lookin’ for us. What’s the next plan?” He asked.

   Ombra waved her hand in decline along with mouthing a thank you.

   “Wiping out more monasteries. There’s another one in the rural area. It’s technically a whole village. There are several buildings with many cultists living in them.”

   “How many of these we’re goin’ to blow up?”

   “Every one of them.” She stared directly at his eyes.

   Erron dropped his head, and after a brief hesitation, he continued. “Catchin’ the cops’ attention what was that for?”

   “I didn’t know they bothered you so much.”

   “That was a stupid move. You wanted to beat ‘em with the law then changed your mind mid-way?”

   Ombra raised her eyebrows. She had almost forgotten how it felt like to hear others detect mistakes in her plans. It had always been her who saved the situation with her strategies no matter how absurd the seemed to be. She pushed back the urge of retrieving the permission of speaking from him, but she had to be mature.

   “I provided a reason for my actions for them. And by “them” I mean those who will eventually rise to join me. They’re still scared and are hiding in their shells because who dares to fight with the divine? Well, I do, and I encourage others to do so.”

   “They broke up the wrong tree. You want everyone against them.” He muttered as he blew out some smoke. “They gotta be shittin’ their pants right now, or else their face is all gone.” A breathless chuckle escaped his throat.

   Her eyebrows fell lower, intensifying her roaring glare. What a stupid, thoughtless man, jesting in the wrong situation, she thought.    The story was just about to begin. Ombra would play with them and spin them around like her puppets, and not even the gods could stop her.

[hinataoc]

KHOC Week Day 4 - AUs

Another day, another @khoc-week​ post!

I was debating on doing this prompt, but then remembered my old Shadow of the Colossus AU, Seeking Salvation. 

I might have shared it before, but this one is close to my heart. Every time I replay Shadow of the Colossus (amazing game btw) I can’t help but fall back in love with the environment, the lonely beauty in the world. No other game has ever captured it quite the same way since. 

ANYWAY,

This is a commission I got of Hinata (by the incredible MeiYu) from my Seeking Salvation AU. 

Set years after KH3, Riku and Hinata are given a mission to travel to the far reaches of the galaxy to discover and explore new worlds. They’ve gone further than ever before and happen upon a lone planet orbiting a faint star. 

Both of them feel something strange about the world, even from orbit safe in their ship. So they decide to land and find the small town of Toska. Elders in wooden masks watch over the townsfolk, who all refuse to give direct eye contact to either Riku and Hinata. The unsettling feeling about the town only intensifies the more they see. 

They stay a while, trying to figure out what is going on. Something is off and they intend to find out. Shortly after arriving, Hinata discovers a black horse abandoned in a graveyard. It remains by the tombstone of what she assumes was its former master. She gathers food for the horse and discovers that a few of the town children also like to visit the horse and braid its mane. 

Through this, those children take a liking to Riku and Hinata and tell them that the town is preparing for the ritual—though the children don’t really know what that means. Just that every year one of them goes missing in the middle of the night and their family is really sad in the morning. But no one will talk about it. It’s just for grown ups, the kids say. They’ll get to find out when they have their rite of passage into adulthood. 

Riku and Hinata don’t need the rite of passage to understand what the ritual actually is and they know they need to stop it from happening again. They sneak into the town’s church in the middle of the night, where they’d seen the elders gather at sunrise and sunset. There they find a collection of books and scrolls that explain the ritual sacrifice to maintain the seal of the Dormin, creatures of  with unfathomable power and abilities. The Dormin are sealed in a far away land that is forbidden for the people to set foot in. 

Seeing enough, Hinata gets up and decides they need to find the Dormin themselves and see what the people are truly up against. If it really requires sacrifice or if they can find another way. Riku reminds her they have to be careful about interfering, but says he agrees with her plan regardless. 

Though they aren’t able to make it there as they plan. A strange chant begins to fill the room, starting soft, then growing in volume. Both Hinata and Riku become unsteady and collapse to the ground, everything going black. 

Waking up, Hinata finds herself tied up with lit torches all around her. There’s drums, chanting, and crying, but she still can’t see well. Everything’s blurry and she feels as if she’s dreaming. Then everything hushes to silence and Hinata hears a blade pierce a body. A sigh of relief washes over the crowd and Hinata smells the unmistakable scent of blood. 

She’s untied and falls to her knees, blinking rapidly and trying frantically to regain her vision. An elder speaks lowly at the front of a crowd. Hinata makes out his shape against the flickering firelight. He speaks of peace and Toska being cleansed by the sacrifice. Hinata looks behind him, making out a blade protruding from...Riku’s body. 

Everything after became a blur. Hinata remembers screaming, people running, elders chanting...none of it changed anything. Without fully regaining her strength, she gathered Riku’s body in a thick quilt and secured him to the horse she discovered in the graveyard. From there, she went for the Forbidden Lands. She would find the Dormin, and she would make them bring Riku back. 

For those of you that have played Shadow of the Colossus, yes, Hinata has taken the place of Wander. 

It’s a haunting story, but one that I grow obsessed with over and over again. 

This is a really old one shot, but I wrote the final Colossus battle Hinata does before Riku is resurrected.

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

Was it worth it?

All the scars, the sacrifice, the terror of each new encounter and mission given by the shadows… in the end of it all, was it worth it?

Hinata leaned her head back against the cliffside, the warmth from the thin rays of sunlight peeking through the leafy overbrush warmed her paled face. The color in her cheeks had long left. Her fingertips were grayed, her golden eyes dulled. Thin tattoos were etched into her skin, creating intricate patterns that she hadn’t remembered putting there. Each time she saw her reflection in the water, she noticed a new one. She hadn’t said it aloud, but she suspected they were the markings of the Colossi… the ones she killed. 

Her fingers traced the indentations, her mind replaying the final moments of battle when she would thrust her blade through their skulls. Their cries of agony as the life left their eyes, it kept her up at night and plagued her thoughts throughout the day. Fifteen kills... Fifteen screams that would forever haunt her dreams.  

Only one remained… The final Colossus. 

After this, her journey would finally be over. Riku would be given new life, Sam and Velcia would be able to leave in peace, and Hinata would be left behind, paying the price for completing the unthinkable. 

She swallowed thickly, closing her eyes and taking in a long, deep breath. 

This was it. 

There was no turning back. 

Her eyes opened, her hands clenching at her sides against the rocky ground. She had to keep moving. With a pained moan, she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling forward when her legs refused to cooperate. She caught herself against the trunk of a tree, taking in a few deep breaths to regain her strength. There wasn’t much left to her, and she knew as much. Each kill made her weaker, in both mind and body. 

“You can do this,” she whispered, looking towards the crumbled bridge that would have taken her life if it hadn’t been for Nia. “If not for yourself--” she stood back up straight, swaying side to side as she rebalanced. “Then for the others.”

Blowing out a breath, she looked up the cliffside that led up to her final battle. Her dagger appeared in her hand in a wisp of shimmering, blue mist, ready to be thrown. She focused on a pillar that leaned over the top of the cliff and stepped back as she readjusted the blade in her grasp. Sucking in a sharp breath, she ran forward and threw her dagger with practiced ease. It embedded itself into the pillar, cracking the stone. Hinata disappeared in a blue mist reappearing at the dagger’s hilt, where she pulled it out from the pillar as it crumbled away. She scrambled back to be on top of the cliff, slipping and nearly falling with the rocks before she gripped the edge of the cliffside. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths labored and short as she watched the pillar smash against the rocks below. 

She pulled herself back up to safety, struggling to make a maneuver that normally would have been done with ease. Rumbling thunder greeted her as she got back to her feet. Her jaw dropped at the swirling storm ahead of her. Thick, dark clouds surrounded a monstrous tower that went higher than anything Hinata had seen in the forbidden lands. Her eyes followed the building, causing her knees to falter when she saw the familiar golden eyes of a Colossus at the very top. It wasn’t a building, or a tower... It was her final foe. 

Its fiery eyes stared straight through her as it awaited her challenge. Lightning circled its wrists as it reached out towards her with long, straggly arms that sent chills through Hinata’s spine. Blinding light surged from its fingertips, coming straight towards her and forcing her out of the impending panic. She pushed herself to her feet, running to cover behind a tall pillar that stood amongst an old decrepit courtyard Hinata found herself in. The beams of electricity struck the pillar, shaking the ground around her and causing cracks to form in the stone. 

Hinata struggled to stay upright, crying out in fright as everything crumbled around her. She peeked around the pillar, gasping and turning away when the Colossus immediately fired another shot, disintegrating a chunk of the rock and forcing Hinata to lower to her knees to avoid being seen. 

She summoned her dagger into her grasp, taking in a breath before she threw it further into the courtyard and warped to it. The blue mist was still dissipating away from her warp when she threw her dagger again, and then again, each warp bringing her closer to the Colossus and missing its earth shattering shots of electricity. 

The closer she got, the windier it became. As she neared its legs, pelting rain poured around her, making it difficult to see. She was close enough that it could no longer take shots at her, but it instead attempted to smash her with its feet. Her chest heaved as she ran forward, stumbling from the force of its foot slamming against the ground behind her. There had to be a way to climb onto its body, there always was for the others. 

She circled around it, her lungs burning and legs threatening to crumble. Despite it, her body never did fully give out during a battle. It was as if she was given strength for the fight itself as the markings on her body glowed and pulsed adrenaline inside of her, pushing her forward. 

Running between its legs, she found what she was looking for. There was a platform near the ground, one with jagged stone and moss that gave her the perfect grappling point. She climbed on, gripping the moss as the Colossus growled and shook its body in an attempt to throw her off completely. Harsh winds blew past her, nearly blowing her away completely as the Colossus  writhed beneath her. Regardless, she continued upwards, allowing the glow from her tattooed markings to illuminate her way. The light from them melded with the mossy stone that made up the Colossus and it created a thin pathway that led where she needed to go. She followed without hesitation, one step after the next, narrowly avoiding the creature's hands blindly reaching for her behind its back. Rain clouded her vision, but as long as she could see the thin blue trail of light she knew where she had to go. 

She wasn’t sure how long she had been climbing when she reached its waist. There was a thick platform that surrounded it, the last portion of rock before all that remained of its body was fur and blackened skin. Hinata fell to her knees, struggling to remain conscious as her tattoos faded and the adrenaline inside of her reduced to nothing. The corners of her vision went black, blurring even further than the rain was already doing. She couldn’t feel her hands even though they caught her when she fell forward, but she could see the blotches of black blood between her fingers. 

Was that her blood?

Whispers overtook her fading thoughts, filling her entire being as the Dormin shadows spoke to her, “The vitals are in a place thou cannot reach from there…”

Hinata’s hands clenched beneath her as she forced herself to look up. She was in the creature’s blindspot behind its back. The platform was thick enough that it couldn’t feel her presence, but it was still searching for her as it swayed side to side and randomly shot beams of its electricity into the courtyard. 

“Climb higher from that place…” the whispers urged her forward, taking no account of her current state. 

Her tattoos pulsated with light, enticing her with a trickle of adrenaline. She whimpered, attempting to stand. Her arms trembled and gave way beneath her, and she fell back to the platform completely. 

“I can’t,” she cried softly, her voice completely lost in the storm around her. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t…”

 The warmth of light caused her to wince before she opened her eyes. The storm parted, the clouds thinning and allowing rays of sunlight to pour in. Hinata blinked, fighting the urge to reel back from the light and instead gazed directly inside, allowing it to completely envelope her. Time seemed to stand still as she looked out over the forbidden lands. Bright blue beams of light pierced through the sky, each one residing where she defeated a Colossus. In the center of it all was the temple. Its immense and once intimidating size seemed small in comparison to Hinata’s perch. 

That was where everything began… 

Riku laid there, lifeless, patiently awaiting Hinata to finish her quest to set things right. Sam and Velcia watched over him, no doubt agonizing where Hinata disappeared to when they had woken up that morning. She left them at dawn, leaving without a word. This wasn’t their fight. They helped her along the way, but in the end, it wasn’t their burden to bear. 

Hinata pushed herself to stand, her legs quaking and threatening to give under her weight, but they remained strong as she gripped the hilt to the Dormin Blade. It glowed from the sunlight as she unsheathed it and held it high. A thin beam of yellow light penetrated the storm, shining out over the forbidden lands towards the temple. 

She had to give them a sign. 

A sparkle of light greeted her in response from the temple’s entrance. It rose as a pearl of light, spiraling upwards before bursting into a shimmering firework. Hinata breathlessly laughed, her arm losing its strength and falling limp to her side with the Dormin blade loosely in her grasp. 

They saw her. 

The clouds swirled back together, blocking out the sunlight and once again leaving Hinata alone with her quest. Exhaustion coursed through her, melding with throbbing pain from the perseverance she forced herself into over the past month. All of it, every moment led to this and she had to finish what she started. 

No matter the cost. 

“Climb higher from that place…” the whispers prompted her again. 

Hinata nodded, blowing out a breath as she closed her eyes and muttered, “Give me your strength to finish this.” 

She staggered back, gritting her teeth at the sudden rush of energy and adrenaline pumping through her in response. It wasn’t natural and even as the pain in her joints vanished, she knew deep down that it was still there and was only going to be worse when the effects wore off. 

Opening her eyes, she narrowed her gaze towards the arm of the Colossus. She sheathed the Dormin blade and summoned her dagger. Taking in a deep breath, she shook out her arms and switched between the balls of her feet, before sprinting forward. With a final push at the edge of the platform she vaulted off, throwing her dagger in succession and piercing it into the Colossus’ bicep. 

It yowled and grabbed for the dagger, missing Hinata as she landed on its forearm and hung from its blackened and matted fur. She resummoned her dagger, slicing into its arm before it even noticed her there. Its roar was deafening, shaking everything around it and rattling the rocks that made up its body. Hinata swung herself up onto its straightened out arm so it could find her. 

She ran forward, ducking and sliding when its giant hand came reaching for her. She narrowly missed it and reached its shoulder. The fur along its back kept her hidden from sight while it searched for her. Its hands swept blindly, becoming more frantic by the moment as it realized she was nearing its head.

Her hands clung to the fur, pulling her further up towards its neck and the glowing markings on the top of its head that pulsed brighter the closer she got. Her own tattoos shined brilliantly, illuminating her path as they did on her way up. The rain pelted her back, the roars and screams from the creature realizing its impending doom resonated around her. All she focused on was closing the distance as she unsheathed the Dormin blade. Its glow matched the markings on the Colossus, begging to be plunged into the center and finish the ritual.

The whispers in her mind grew in volume, telling her to take the chance, to not hesitate—even though she always did. 

It never got easier to take a life. 

With both hands readied on the hilt, she lifted the blade up and sucked in a breath before striking it down, piercing the softened skin. A scream filled the air. The Colossus reared back its entire body. Hinata grabbed onto a rock protruding from the creature’s head, keeping herself steady as the Colossus thrashed. Blackened blood spewed from the wound, seeping into its fur. Hinata looked away, desperately trying to hang on before a rocky hand wound around her waist. 

She cried out from the tightened grip that only grew firmer as the Colossus realized it had her. It brought her in front of its face, its eyes burning and fingers tightening to cut off her air completely. Hinata stared back into its gaze, the glow of her tattoos fading as the Dormin recognized her fate. She gasped for air, feeling her bones cracking and giving way under the pressure. 

Holding out her hand, she summoned her dagger and hurled it towards its head. It clinked off a rock protruding from its skull, but Hinata warped to it regardless, catching herself on the soaked fur as her dagger fell to the world below. She forced herself to her knees, grabbing the hilt of the blade that was still stabbed inside of the Colossus’ head. One more strike, that’s all it would take. 

“DORMIN!” she cried out, watching her tattoos fill with light as she pulled out the blade and thrusted it back in. 

She got to her feet, putting all of her weight onto the blade until only the hilt remained above. The curdling scream in response caused tears to fill her eyes. Every kill was the same, each one left her empty as darkness covered the Colossus’ lifeless skin. The colossal body went limp, its head falling forward and rather than brace herself, Hinata allowed herself to fall. 

The rain ceased, the clouds parting to reveal the sun as the fire in the Colossus’ eyes went out. Wind whistled past Hinata’s ears as she fell, watching the creature crumble and the dark shadows claim their prize. Her eyes lifted to the sky before closing entirely. Riku’s face appeared in her mind, their last moments together. His smile, the way he always knew what to say when she needed it most… He would have those moments again. Life would breathe back into him… finally. 

If this was to be the end, at least it happened with the knowledge that she finished what she set out to do. 

“It is done…” The whispers filled her being. 

Hinata’s eyes fluttered open, seeing her blackened tears rising in droplets above her as she fell. 

She had done it. 

Black, shadowy tendrils shot out from the Colossus’ remains. Hinata swallowed hard, refusing to watch as they made their way towards her, as they always did. Before she could hit the ground, the shadows pierced her body, momentarily stopping her heart. Her lips parted and black mist poured from her mouth. 

Then everything went black. 

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Jon Haidt and Zach Rausch

Published: May 15, 2023

When parents are asked to identify their top fears about the safety of their children, what do you think tops the list? According to a survey last year by Safehome.org, it’s not cars, strangers, or any other physical threat; it’s “internet/social media.” That’s not just for parents of teenagers and pre-teens, whose lives seem to revolve around their phones. It’s even true for parents of younger kids, ages 7-9 because every parent sees it coming and few know what to do about it. Parents don’t want their children to disappear into phones, as so many of their friends' children have; some resolve to wait until 8th grade, or later. Then their child hits them with the main argument that makes parents buckle: “But everyone else has a phone, so I’m being left out.”

For parents who resisted, or who plan to resist, a new report may encourage many more parents to join you: Sapien Labs, which runs an ongoing global survey of mental health with nearly a million participants so far, released a “Rapid Report” today on a question they added in January asking young adults (those between ages 18 and 24): “At what age did you get your own smartphone or tablet (e.g. iPad) with Internet access that you could carry with you?”  When they plot the age of first smartphone on the X axis against their extensive set of questions about mental health on the Y axis, they find a consistent pattern: the younger the age of getting the first smartphone, the worse the mental health that the young adult reports today. This is true in all the regions studied (the survey is offered in English, Spanish, French, German, Portuguese, Arabic, Hindi, and Swahili), and the relationships are consistently stronger for women.

We believe these findings have important implications for parents, heads of K-12 schools, and legislators currently considering bills to raise minimum ages or require age verification for some kinds of sites (especially social media and pornography). We’ll address those implications at the end of this post. But first: what did Sapien Labs do, and what did they find?

1. The Sapien Labs Study

Sapien Labs is a non-profit research foundation with the goal of understanding how the rapidly changing social and technological environment is changing human brains and minds. Their main research project has been the Global Mind Project, an ongoing program that tracks mental well-being around the world using a comprehensive assessment of mental health along with questions about demographics and various cultural, technological, and lifestyle factors. They have issued a variety of reports on the state of mental health around the world. Among their most important findings is that in all the regions they’ve studied, mental health is worst for the youngest generations.

It didn’t used to be this way. There is a well-known finding in happiness research that, across nearly all nations, happiness or well-being forms a U-shaped curve across the lifespan (See Rauch, 2018). Young adults and people in their 60s and 70s are happier than those in middle age. But that may be changing, especially for women, as Gen Z (born in and after 1996) enters young adulthood. You can see the sudden collapse of young adult mental health in some of our previous posts on this Substack. For example, Figure 1 shows that up until 2011, young Canadian women were the most likely to report having excellent or very good mental health. By 2015 they were the least likely, and the decline in their self-reported mental health accelerated after that, while it changed very little for older women. (The same pattern holds for Canadian men, but to a lesser degree.)

[ Figure 1. Percent of Canadian women reporting excellent or very good mental health, by age group. Canadian Community Health Survey (2003-2019). Graphed by Zach Rausch. ]

Why would this be? What changed in the early 2010s that could have rapidly reduced the mental health of teens around the world, with a bigger impact on girls? At the After Babel Substack, we have argued that the sudden switch of teen social life from flip phones (which are designed for communication) to smartphones (which enabled continuous access to social media and much higher levels of phone addiction), is the major cause, though not the only one. There are unique factors at work in each country, but we know of no alternative that can explain the synchronized, gendered, and global decline in teen mental health. 

At Sapien Labs, they decided to test the smartphone hypothesis by adding a question about the age at which people got their first smartphone (or tablet). Is it just a coincidence that the first global generation to grow up on smartphones became the first global generation to have lower well-being than the one before them? 

Sapien Labs uses a comprehensive assessment of mental well-being that asks participants about 47 elements of mental, social, and emotional functioning on a life impact scale. These 47 elements are aggregated into a single score called the Mental Health Quotient (MHQ), which gives extra weight to patterns that indicate severe problems. It also uses subsets of these 47 elements to create scores along six domains: Mood & Outlook, Social Self, Adaptability & Resilience, Drive & Motivation, Cognition, and Mind-Body Connection. 

(You can take the MHQ yourself and you can request access to the full dataset. For scoring and validation of the MHQ, see Newson, Pastukh, & Thiagarajan, 2022, and see this blog post that offers a clear explanation of how the MHQ is scored, and why.) 

Figure 2 shows the most basic result in the report: they simply plotted the responses from the nearly 28,000 participants who answered the “first phone” question, from all countries combined. 

[ Figure 2. As age of first smartphone goes up, so does the mental health reported by young adults, assessed by the MHQ. Data from SapienLabs.org. ]

MHQ scores are calculated from responses to the 47 questions and converted to a scale that runs from -100 to 200, as shown here: 

As you can see, the respondents who got their first smartphone before they were 10 years old are doing worse, on average, than those who didn’t get one until they were in their teens. The most mentally healthy respondents are those who did not get a phone until their late teens.1 You can also see that the slope is steeper for young women than for young men. The Gen Z women who got their first smartphone before they were 9 years old are in negative territory, on average.

The power and unique contribution of the Sapien Labs dataset come from two features of their work: First, they use a far more detailed measure of mental health than is used in most other large surveys. The second important feature is their international coverage. So, let’s zoom in and explore the six domain scores that make up the MHQ, first for the global sample, and then for the region and culture we know best: the Anglosphere.

2. Domains of Functioning

As you’ll see if you read the full report, the next step after examining the overall MHQ scores is to examine scores on the six domains of mental functioning:

Mood & Outlook: Includes items about optimism, calmness, anxiety, mood swings, sadness, and anger. 

Social Self: Includes items about self-worth, relationships with others, empathy, cooperation, aggression toward others 

Adaptability & Resilience: includes items about adaptability to change, ability to learn, and emotional resilience.  

Drive & Motivation: Includes items about motivation, curiosity, enthusiasm, and addictions.

Cognition: Includes items about memory, decision-making and risk-taking, focus, and concentration, unwanted thoughts, hallucinations

Mind-Body Connection: Includes items about sleep quality, energy level, appetite, and physical health issues. 

Figure 3 shows that for young women, all six domain scores show the same basic pattern as the MHQ: a consistent rise. You can also see that a few of the domains seem to rise more slowly or level off somewhat after the age of 13 or 14: Drive and motivation, Mind-body connection, and Cognition. However, the other three dimensions continue to rise all the way to age 18. The domain that rises fastest, meaning that it is most highly correlated with age of first smartphone, is the “social self” domain. 

[ Figure 3: The 6 domains of well-being, for young women, as a function of when they got their first smartphone. From SapienLabs.org. ]

Figure 4 shows the same analysis for young men. The pattern is similar, with two important exceptions. First, the slopes are substantially lower, meaning that the mental health and well-being of young men are not as strongly related to the age at which they got their first smartphone as it is for their sisters, although it is still related. (All of the significance tests and effect sizes can be found in supplementary materials posted in this Google Drive link.2) The second difference is that all of the lines are higher for boys, meaning that boys are doing better than girls at all ages (at least, according to their self-reports). The one exception is that the line for Adaptability & Resilience reaches the same level for both sexes by age 18. Given the steeper slopes of all six lines for girls, this means that sex differences in adult mental health are larger among those who got a smartphone earlier.

[ Figure 4: The 6 domains of well-being, for young men, as a function of when they got their first smartphone. From SapienLabs.org. ]

One major issue in analyzing an international dataset is that there are just so many differences between countries, regions, and religions that there are many opportunities for confounding variables to lead us astray. For example, in the Sapien Labs dataset, in the less wealthy countries such as India, few young adults had received a smartphone before the age of 10, which means that the data points on the left sides of the graphs contain almost no Indians, whereas the data points on the right side (no phone until 17 or 18) contain many Indians and fewer from the USA. If Indians are mentally healthier than Americans (for other reasons), this could cause the lines to slope even if smartphones had no effect on mental health. It is important, therefore, to look at individual countries and regions. (The Sapien Labs report does this in its appendix, where you can see that the trends hold for each of the world regions). 

The region that we (Jon and Zach) know best and have written on extensively is the Anglosphere (the English-speaking countries of The United States, Canada, The United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, and sometimes Ireland). We, therefore, decided to examine what Sapien Labs had found about those countries and compare it to what we have found. 

3. Zooming in on the Anglosphere

At the After Babel Substack, we have been documenting the patterns of rising mental illness among teens around the world, and, like Sapien Labs, we have found that the sudden decline of teenage mental health is an international phenomenon. Our research so far indicates that the increases in mental illness in the 2010s were slightly larger in the Anglosphere than in any other region we’ve examined. Figure 4 shows the large and sudden rise in self-harm rates among teens, particularly girls, in four of these nations (you can see much more in Zach’s initial report on the Anglosphere).

[ Figure 5. Since 2010, rates of self-harm episodes have increased for teens in the  Anglosphere countries. For data on Australia and for all sources, see Rausch and Haidt (2023). ]

In every Anglosphere country, the mental health of teens declined sharply around the same time (~2012) and in the same way (depression, anxiety, and self-harm, with bigger increases for girls). We have also found that the five Nordic nations show similar trends, particularly when examining changing rates of depression and anxiety (though not always for self harm). 

The Sapien Labs study began in 2019 so it cannot show us trends since 2010, but it can show us how young adults are doing today, and it can link variations in mental health today to variations in age of first smartphone. We wanted to get more familiar with the data and examine these links for ourselves, so we downloaded the full dataset as it was available on their Brainbase site on May 13, 2023, which was just about 2 weeks later than the dataset used in the Sapien Lab report. Our dataset contains 1,798 more participants, for a total of 29,767. The number of participants from the six anglosphere countries was much smaller: 1,465 (823 females, 584 males). By country: 682 in the USA, 297 in the UK, 224 in Canada, 239 in Australia, 10 in New Zealand, and 13 in Ireland.

We cleaned and organized our dataset in the same way as the team at Sapien Labs, with a small modification to account for our much smaller sample size. To reduce the jerkiness of the graph lines when we drop down to lower numbers of respondents for each point, we grouped participants into 2-year buckets (or three years, for our youngest bucket, 5-83). Figure 5 shows that the MHQ scores of Anglosphere boys and girls show patterns very similar to those reported in Figure 1 by Sapien Labs for the full 28,000-person international sample: The later the age of smartphone acquisition, the better the mental health. At least, that is true for the girls, all the way up to 18. For Anglosphere boys, there is a leveling off after the 11-12 mark. Delays beyond age 12 do not seem to be related to further increases in MHQ scores.4 

[ Figure 6. Anglosphere countries only: As age of first smartphone goes up, so does the mental health reported by young adults, especially for women. Data from SapienLabs.org, graphed by Zach Rausch. ]

We also plotted the six MHQ domain scores and found similar results. For females, all six dimensions of mental well-being improve as the age of smartphone acquisition increases.5 The effects are particularly strong for the “social self” and “mood and outlook”, which correspond well to the rise of internalizing disorders (depression and anxiety), which Zach has shown is rising within every Anglosphere nation. 

[ Figure 7. Anglosphere countries only: female MHQ dimension scores. Well-being on all 6 dimensions increases as age of smartphone acquisition increases.  ]

The trends for boys are similar to girls, though the effects are smaller and there is more fluctuation.6 Figure 8 shows that at the youngest ages, increasing age corresponds with improvements in each of the six dimensions. However, for boys, improvements tend to level off after age 12.

[ Figure 8. Anglosphere countries only: male MHQ dimension scores. Changes are smaller and more varied compared to females.  ]

4. Limitations

It’s important to note that the report from Sapien Labs is one of their “rapid reports” made possible by their fast-growing number of participants and the easy access they offer to their data. They added the question about age of first smartphone in January and they are publishing a report, with data from nearly 28,000 participants, in May. We believe that this ability to move quickly is a public service during a global pandemic of teen mental illness. While their rapid report is not a standard academic publication and has not been through peer review (which often takes a year or more), the open access to the data has allowed us to investigate and confirm the trends they are reporting. We hope and expect that other researchers will download the dataset and offer critiques of the data, the analyses, and the conclusions drawn. This sort of “post-publication peer review” is becoming increasingly common as the problems with the existing peer review system become more widely known.

One issue to keep in mind with the Sapien Labs dataset is that the participants in each country are not a random or representative sample of the people in that country. Such studies would be extremely expensive to run, and now that so few people agree to phone solicitations or even answer their phones, it is unclear how representative such surveys can be. Those who agree to be interviewed, or who are motivated by money to participate, are not representative of the broader population. For this Sapien Labs report, participants came to the site on their own, or from online advertisements paid for by Sapien Labs, for the purpose of getting a detailed report on their wellbeing. So, the means reported for any country should not be treated like direct measures of the true means. However, samples such as these are still very useful for examining differences within the sample, such as those between men and women, or between those who got a smartphone early and those who got one late. And the much larger size of the Sapien Labs dataset, compared to Gallup and other survey organizations, allows for many additional analyses. 

A second factor to keep in mind is that like all surveys, what we get is correlational data that is open to alternative interpretations. The graphs in the report are likely to suggest to most readers that getting a smartphone early causes later mental health problems. But with correlational data we must always consider the possibility that the causal arrow could run in reverse. In this case: having low well-being as a young adult could cause people to believe that they got a smartphone earlier than they did, but this seems unlikely. We must also always consider that there could be “third variables” that cause both of the first two variables to rise. In this case, one plausible confounding third variable is permissive parenting. Perhaps permissive parents (in each country) simultaneously do two things: they give their kids smartphones at very young ages, and they also give them few boundaries and little structure, which then interferes with development and produces struggling young adults. While this hypothesis is plausible and should be investigated, it is not clear how it would explain the fact that, in all the regions studied, it is the girls who show a tighter connection between early phone acquisition and later mental health problems, just as it is the girls who show a tighter connection between heavy social media use and concurrent mental health problems. Nor would it explain why mental health dropped so rapidly in the early 2010s (especially for girls) if permissive parenting (or some other variable about family life) was the real culprit.

And finally, we note that no one study is definitive, and more research is needed. We have been able to find a few other studies that examined the age at which children got their first smartphones (We have created a new appendix [8.14] in our collaborative review doc on Social Media and Mental Health). So far they are mostly smaller studies that have produced mixed results. If you know of any others, please add them to the doc or put a link to them in the comments below. We want to get this right.

5. Implications

We cannot be certain that the correlations shown in the data are evidence of causality, but we think it is appropriate for those who care for children to act on the preponderance of the evidence (which is the standard in a civil trial) rather than waiting for evidence beyond a reasonable doubt (which is the standard used in a criminal trial. See proposition 2 in this post.) There is increasing evidence that smartphones have a variety of detrimental effects on child development including reductions of sleep, focus, and time with friends in person, along with increases in addictive behaviors, so it makes sense that the cumulative effect of getting one’s first phone in elementary school would be larger than for those who don’t get a phone until high school. This is an important point made in the Sapien Labs report: The relationships they find suggest that there is a cumulative effect of having had a smartphone (and its many apps) over many years of childhood; they do not represent the effects of having used a phone a lot in recent days or weeks (which is the focus of most of the published research).

We think the implications for action are strongest for policies related to children and younger teens––those still in elementary and middle school (that is, age 14 and below) In most of the graphs in this post, including those for the Anglosphere, the slopes of the lines are steepest for those ages, and the links are visible for boys as well as girls (though smaller for boys). This concern to protect children before and during early puberty is consistent with a study published last year which found that in a large longitudinal study of British adolescents, the peak years for evidence of links between social media use and lower satisfaction with life were 11-13 for girls (which corresponds to the early part of puberty), while for boys (who begin puberty a bit later) it was 14-15.

On the other hand, the implications for action related to older teens and especially boys are less clear, at least within the United States and other Anglosphere nations. The lines for boys are somewhat flat in those ages, and the increases for girls generally slow down too. Furthermore, the arguments for why high school students need a smartphone (rather than an alternative, such as a flip-phone) are stronger than the arguments for why elementary and middle school students need one. 

We, therefore, believe that the Sapien Labs findings should motivate us to think carefully about whether and when to give children their own smart devices, especially before high school. It is not the Internet per se that is harmful; so much of the internet is fantastically educational, useful, and entertaining. The most relevant questions, we think, are: 1) At what age do you want to give a child continuous access to the internet and social media, even when away from home, even when sitting in class? 2) At what age do you want to give social media companies, and other companies, continuous access to a child’s attention? And 3) does a child really need a smartphone when other kinds of phones (such as “flip phones” or Light Phones) work just as well for general communication (phone calls and texting)?

Implications for Parents

The group Wait Until 8th was founded to solve the collective action problem that parents and teens are in: Even if most parents wanted to wait until high school to give their children smartphones and social media, as long as most kids have those things by 6th grade, there will be enormous pressure on their children, and hence on the parents, to relent. Unless the parents can coordinate. So Wait Until 8th asks parents to sign a pledge, when their children are in elementary school, that they will wait until 8th grade to give them a smartphone. The pledge only takes effect once ten families in that child’s grade have signed the pledge so that the child will have a community of peers and will not feel so isolated before 8th grade.

We think this is a great idea, we just suggest that the pledge should be: Wait Until 9th. Or Wait Until High School. Children are usually 12 or 13 at the start of 8th grade; that is still within the period of early puberty. Plus, if 8th graders have smartphones, that means that smartphones will be everywhere in middle schools, increasing the desire of 7th graders to get them. To solve collective action problems, we think it’s best to focus on setting good norms within collectives (such as schools): make elementary schools and middle schools be smartphone free. 

Parents understandably want to be able to reach their children when they are away from home, and a flip phone or other “dumbphone” is a very reasonable first phone that allows parents and children to reach each other. We suggest that parents not give smartphones as first phones. Let children learn to master a simpler kind of phone, one that cannot be loaded with addictive apps. Wait Until 8th offers an excellent list of the many smartphone alternatives.

Implications for Schools

Many of the teachers and heads of schools that Jon talks to are bitter about the effects of smartphones on their students and their school culture. They complain about the constant drama unfolding on social media during the school day. They complain about the distraction and the increased difficulty of getting students’ attention during class, since many students sneak looks at their frequently-buzzing phones, especially those sitting in the back rows. Many schools say that they ban phones, but what they often seem to mean is “the rule is that you can’t take out your phone during class.” That means that some students (the ones most suffering from phone addiction) will learn to do it stealthily, and many of the rest will just pull out their phones as soon as class is over, thereby missing out on face-to-face interactions with the students right next to them. 

We suggest that schools consider going phone free, meaning that students can use their phones to arrive and depart from school, but once they enter, their phones (smart or dumb) would be placed in a phone locker, or in a lockable pouch. We think the case for doing this in elementary schools and middle schools is strongest. In a few weeks, Jon will write a substack post laying out the empirical evidence that smartphones distract students and disrupt education, even when they are kept in students’ pockets.

We also suggest that school districts collaborate with social scientists to do experiments on entire schools, rather than on individual students. What if a state or district identified 20 middle schools that were willing to cooperate, and then randomly assigned half of them to go phone free?  There is no research of this kind that we can find, yet such a simple study would give us results within a single year that could potentially yield findings that improve both mental health and educational outcomes. 

Implications for Legislatures

If there is a cumulative effect of smartphone ownership in childhood, and if the effect is due in part to heavy use of certain kinds of apps (such as social media) rather than other kinds of apps (such as watching movies, or using Wikipedia), then it becomes even more vital that we develop ways of age-gating certain apps and content. At present, US law sets a minimum age of 13 at which children can sign contracts with companies to give away their data (when they check a box on the terms of service). But the law was written such that the companies are not required to verify ages. As long as a child says that she is 13 or older, she’s in and can create a social media account. 

This must change. If the minimum age were enforced, it would help parents solve their collective action problem, at least with regard to Instagram, Tiktok, and other social media sites for underage users. It is precisely Congress’s failure to enforce the age 13 rule that puts parents in the trap. Many states are now introducing legislation to remedy this omission. And there is one federal bill that does a particularly good job of focusing on age limits and age verification: The Protecting Kids on Social Media Act, introduced by Senators Schatz (D-HI), Cotton (R-AR), Murphy (D-CT), and Britt (R-AL). The act would “set a minimum age of 13 to use social media apps and would require parental consent for 13 through 17 year-olds.  The bill would also prevent social media companies from feeding content using algorithms to users under the age of 18.” The bill also requires social media companies to develop rigorous age verification methods. (There are already many in existence, and many more would appear if the bill gets passed.) We also think the Kids Online Safety Act of 2022, introduced by senators Blumenthal (D-CT) and Blackburn (R-TN) would do a lot to make social media less damaging to children, and easier for parents to control. The fact that so many bills are bipartisan, at both the state and federal level, is a very encouraging sign in our polarized time. Legislators often report seeing the problems in their own children.

In conclusion: there is a great deal that can be done, individually and collectively, to address one of the top fears that parents express, about the safety and health of their children. The Sapien Labs data offers us new insight into the nature of the problem, and it alerts us that the problem may be global. It also guides us to the ages at which reform efforts are most likely to work.

--

POSTSCRIPTS (added on May 18, 2023)

1—We welcome additional and deeper analyses of the Sapien Labs data, and will post links here to such reports whether they support or contradict our analyses in this post.

2—One issue we should have discussed in the text is the inclusion of tablets, along with smartphones, in the Sapien Labs’ questionnaire. If their findings differ from those of other labs which asked only about age of first smartphone, then we won’t know whether part of the difference is the inclusion of tablets. We hope that future studies will ask about the two devices separately to figure out which devices are associated with harm at which ages (if any).

3—Some commentary online has made the important point that it’s not the phone itself which is harmful; it is the particular apps that the child uses, a child with a particular personality, in the context of a particular family that does (or does not) exercise oversight and apply restrictions. We agree. The original iPhone introduced by Steve Jobs was three devices: a phone, an iPod, and a web browser. Great! Three tools. Probably not harmful. It’s the addition of the app store that turned the smartphone into a portal to everything. If early acquisition of a smartphone is shown to be reliably associated with developmental problems, it would likely be because it enables continuous 18-hour-per-day access to hundreds of activities.

[stigmvtas]

welcome to marina, LYDIA FLORES ( cis woman, she/her ) ! they are a TWENTY SEVEN year old who has lived on the island for FIVE DAYS. word on the street is they’re currently living in HYLAND PARK and works as a BALLERINA / SEAMSTRESS. everyone also says they look a lot like ANYA TAYLOR JOY. what do you think? — JAMES, 24, THEY/THEM, EST.

MENTIONS OF GIRLBOSSING TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN.

profile.

full name: lydia rosemary flores - montgomery.

birthday: april 16th, 1996.

astrology: aries sun, aries moon, libra ascending.

sexuality: bisexual.

currently listening to: ptolemaea by ethel cain.

last known location: [[[cannot be found]]]

PINTEREST.

brief history.

born in nyc, product of an affair between an intern and her attending in the hospital, a well - known and sought after surgeon. born a twin - something their mother wasn't able to handle. in the end - lydia stayed with their mother, and valentina was given up.

lydia grows up in a single mother household; one where her mother's constantly away, constantly striving to put food on the table - little to no extra income to spend. lydia spends a lot of time alone; hates being alone. it feels wrong - she often feels wrong. babysitters don't survive her - too much for them to handle. princess of tantrums and attachment issues.

she doesn't meet her father - knows of him, about him - but never sees him; he knows of her - of them - but never reaches out. never cares to - he's got a family of his own to deal with; barely wants to do that. a narcissist - evil behind his eyes.

wasn't very liked in school as a child; only forced her compulsive obsession with being perfect. strives for it - begs for it; forces it onto herself. mimics all the prettiest girls in her classes - their movements, how they talk - their activities, what they consider cool, or pretty.

ballet's a side project she can't afford - but she's all about the precision - the way perfection is demanded. she'd never be a clara, or an odette - but she'll spend her whole life desperately trying.

is never anything worthwhile - never feels worthwhile; spends her teenage years sewing knock - offs in her tiny apartment to impress her rich friends, to further build a lie she's long been crafted.

to them - she's just as rich; personality mimicking theirs, she's a carbon copy heiress. a nepo baby - a hamptons princess, whatever they needed her to be.

it's a con that works its way into her adulthood; wiggles her way into fashion school - a talent she's more practical at than creative, stealing the designs of those more innovative than her. flunks out and tells no one; racks up credit card after credit card - often not hers, often her friends.

recently was exposed for her fraud; fled to marina in response because in her eyes - marina's an island of nobodies where the irrelevant go to further rot, and she thinks it's perfect to rebuild her image. to build a new person - maybe find a rich spouse who'll dote on her and take her far, far away.

facts & temperament.

a hot mess of insecurities wrapped pretty with a bow; still prone to tantrums and meltdowns when things don't go her way. it's not a pretty sight. needs to be the center of attention - needs eyes to be on her always, admiring her and loving her and envying her.

deep seated need to love and be loved. it's a full blown obsession that follows any person she sets her eyes on; anyone who's rich, successful, or easily malleable to be both of those things. doesn't mind giving the push, pulling the strings - if it'll mean inspiring wealth.

compulsive liar. manipulator. desperate and needy, and will do anything to survive. will throw people under busses literally and metaphorically if it'll make her look better. will start rumors, lies - drama wherever she can, no matter how nonsensical it is.

clings onto people she deems her "favorites" - their opinions mean the most to her, and when they don't align with hers, her entire world collapses beneath her. is very dramatic about it. is dramatic about most things.

the most upright posture. has worked hard on having a dancer's grace, a model's countenance - exuding an air of elegance even with mascara running down her cheeks.

the gaudiest person alive. room is adorned in florals and swan imagery and yellow gold, mostly all fake. loves heart - shaped anything, and reds and pinks and whites and creams. loves fur coats, the realer the better, and silk slips.

can get very possessive and very jealous. tends to drive others away because of it - because she's the "crazy" girlfriend once her cool girl exterior cracks and reveals the truth. can be just plain mean. often critical of others, judgmental.

emotionally fragile. will cry at the slightest voice raised - can cry on command, utilizes it often.

spends hours in the bathroom, especially on self - care days; will bath until her skin's nothing but a layer to remove.

even when trying to be compassionate, or sympathetic - tends to make it about herself, and her feelings. excessively idealistic to the point of delusional.

just wants to be liked so bad. but is bad at it. is kind of a bad person.

[celine-was-here]

Toph beifong is the greatest earth bender of all time.

During the atla series being around 12-15

-Had trained under giant badger moles

-was a multiple belt winner underground earthbending wrestlee champion as the blind bandit

-can seismic sense well enough that she can distinguish all the things from buildings,underground foreign objects, people animals, even all the way to ants 

-trained the avatar in earth bending

-kept the Equivalent of the library of Alexandria in the avatar world up for possibly some hrs while fighting sand bandits (in sand which is an unfamiliar element to her and one of her weak points because the ground is so loose)

- mud bends a giant drill

-later perfects her sand bending so she’s not caught in that predicament again and does it so well that she’s able to entirely replicate a mini replica of ba sing se

-mud bends in a swamp

-used seismic sense to create metal bending & later perfected it enough to make armor that can move with her body to fight fire nation soldiers during sozins comet

-scammed ppl with earth/metal bending

- can sense far enough under ground that she can sense bunkers and captives hidden away

-bended a meteorite into a bracelet and proceeded to use said Bracelet to eventually figure out who might be potential metal benders in the future

-founds a metal bending academy

-kept a old iron mine from collapsing on multiple ppl

The list goes on and on.

I wouldn’t be surprised If her abilities became stronger in adulthood and that’s why she needed to move into the middle of nowhere. Her seismic sense most likely got too powerful and she sense too much of what was going on and could no longer properly focus on certain individual things because she felt everything. I also wouldn’t be surprised if her getting angry eventually triggered the beginnings of lava bending or plate tectonics shifts. But I feel like the plate tectonics shifts would most likely be Because of say childbirth and strong abilities mixing together could’ve essentially triggered earthquakes and that’s why she has also moved out of cities. And as an old woman I have a feeling that she most likely to be able to sense meteorites close enough to earth because she’s had the meteorite bracelet for so long that she’s learned the mineral balance for it

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for calling my dad out on this?

So my parents got divorced two years back mainly due to my father cheating, but it was collapsing either way and it was just a matter of time I think. My father (M49) is currently in a relationship with a woman (F24) and has been since she was 20 I think (obviously he'd never publicly tell if they fucked ever before for multiple reasons). Apart from that, she was my eldest sisters middle school classmate (that's how they met) and says herself that she's "been in love with him since she were 15". She's literally younger than two of his children and by age closer to me than him. You might see my problem here.

Now, most of the adults avoid talking about it, but I (F14) personally find it just messed up that a two times divorced father of 5 children just gets a younger girl for fun. Their relationship is very obviously unstable and toxic and builds on her daddy issues and him boosting his ego via manipulation. So far I've been just one of very little people to openly express my concern and disgust upon him. I swear I'm this close to walking up to her and explaining to her why it's messed up.

The age of consent in czechia is 15 and adulthood since 18, yet I still think it's not okay and it freaks me out a bit. Am I the asshole for being unsupportive and is such age gap fine? Am I overreacting?

What are these acronyms?

[apricusnights]

Stories from the past #6: To stand before a god.

There have been many stories through the years of those who went before one of the five emperors, beings of such enormous power it's said they could part the seas, and split the sky.

Whether or not the stories of the emperors are exaggerated or not remains to be seen. In the end though, the five emperors remain some of the, if not the most power people to exist.

Every so often someone may attempt to run the gauntlet of dangers required to receive an audience. Sometimes it's to ask a favor, sometimes it's to request a blessing, perhaps others simply believe their strength is enough to challenge one of the great beings.

This is a story passed down from generation to generation of a family. A story of arrogance, acceptance of one's self, and passage into adulthood.

Time: Many years ago.

Location: ???

A young woman nearly collapses as she pulls her small boat ashore. The journey had been long and arduous. The island itself had no actual coordinates, one had to use unusual methods just to hopefully locate it. Even then the island was surrounded by a constantly raging storm, treacherous waves, and was cloaked in an otherworldly mist.

This wasn't even taking into account the various leviathans that lurked in the surrounding waters. After catching his breath the young woman tried to get a look around. The mist made that nearly impossible, unless you had come prepared.

A spyglass handed down from her father allowed her a better view. There was a large fortress in the center of the island. In other to get there, one had to travel through the dense jungle, and make their way up the mountain upon which the fortress stood. She had come this far, turning back wasn't an option.

After what felt like days, possibly longer, she had reached the fortress gates. The gates slowly opened, allowing the young woman access. She took her time walking through the fortress. The building seemed old, far too old to even comprehend. She wondered how many others, how many generations had walked this path. Perhaps also on her mind was how many never made it to the end.

She arrived in the central courtyard, looking across the large area she saw what very few had ever witnessed. Five thrones, each occupied by a being shrouded in shadow and mist.

Her eyes gazed from left to right. The first throne was the largest of them all, occupied by a behemoth of a man, he couldn't even guess the man's height. Next to him sat a large woman, not nearly as tall but certainly very large in her own right. In the middle sat what looked like a man of average height. Next to him was a woman, a foot or two taller than the man in the center. At the far end was a being he couldn't quite make out the details of. Her thoughts were interrupted by the large woman's voice.

"We haven't had a visitor in a while, what do you want brat?"

She considered how to respond, her father had warned her of what not to say.

"I wish to prove my worth, like my father, and his mother before him." Reaching into he pocket and pulling out a small jade coin.

The smaller woman waved her hand, the coin suddenly levitating over to her. She seemed to examine it before nodding to the behemoth of a man on the end.

The fortress itself seemed to shake as he stood and took several steps out into the center of the courtyard.

"Ya wanna be chieftain huh? I remember your daddy, I remember his momma as well. Your whole family is full of fools, but maybe you'll prove entertaining. Show me what you got girl"

The young woman knew this was it. She had to give everything she had. She wasted no time in striking the large man, using everything she'd learned. Putting her "blessing" to good use. But every blow her struck seemed to bounce off the behemoth.

Time and time again she attacked, time and time again nothing happened and he was struck back down. Still she persisted. Her body grew tired, her mind fought back the thoughts of hopelessness. She refused to give up. Even after every strike, after every time she was thrown to the ground, she got back up..she had to get back up.

Finally it seemed as though her opponent had grown tired of her, striking back with a blow that shattered her weapon and sent her flying back against the fortress wall. It felt as if her body itself was broken. She knew his opponent was still using a faction of his strength.

She stood again..dragging herself back over only to get slammed to the ground. As she started to fade, thoughts of her clan entered her mind. Her father was growing old, she needed to take his place as chieftain, she needed to protect her people..and she stood once again.

With everything she had, everything she could summon, she struck out..her opponent seemed to be moved back an inch or so...something that made her smile.

Her opponent however was less than amused. Raising his arms up to deliver what would surely be a final blow...

"Enough.."

The smaller woman spoke and stood up. He took a look down at his opponent before walking back over and sitting down. As the woman stepped closer her rabbit ears twitched a bit. The flowing gown she wore brushed against the ground. As she laid her hand on the young woman's head she felt her injuries begin to heal, she felt her energy returning.

"Your worth is proven." The woman handed back the jade coin before slipping a necklace around her neck. "May you lead your people with strength, courage, wisdom, and honor. When your time comes we will await your successor."

She stepped away as the somewhat enigmatic member of the group stood from their chair, waving their hand. All the young woman remember was being engulfed in shadow before awakening on a beach surrounded by her family.

Time: Years later.

Location: Marigold Flotilla.

"Cye! You slept in again, get up!" The young man groaned and reached over, trying to smack his alarm clock. "Cye! I'm not an alarm, get out of bed! Everyone is starting to arrive!" He groaned again, dropping the clock before forcing himself out of bed.

A few moments later he stumbled out of his cabin, a toothbrush in his mouth, and trying to adjust his pants.

The Marigold clan was meeting up with a few of it's sister clans. Ships of various sizes as far as the eye could see. Their clans WERE nomadic after all. His mother, the current chieftain of the Marigold clan rolled her eyes at the boy.

Despite the supposed importance of the meeting, he couldn't care less. None of it was his problem. He'd rather be anywhere else but here. It wasn't until his mother called a meeting that he understood why everyone had gathered.

Her time as chieftain was coming to an end. She was in the process of making the announcement as he seemed to slink off, vanishing through the crowd of people.

As his mother spoke about stepping aside for the next generation, she looked around. Unfortunately for her, the one she had planned on inviting to speak wasn't anywhere to be seen. Her successor had apparently gone off on another of his so called adventures.

Ricusare was a nice place. He'd docked his small rowboat and went right into the market. He'd been here plenty of times to trade before, and got in a fair share of fights. All his life he'd been raised knowing one day he'd be chieftain. Which of course meant he often needed to let off some steam and well...as some in the family put it..he was quite the "little shit".

As he made his way through the crowd he wasn't paying much attention to where he was going, bumping into someone and making them stumble a bit. "Sorry pal..." His thought process stopped as he saw the woman now glaring at him with her arms crossed. Is this what love at first sight felt like? Perhaps..but it certainly was what a shopping back smacking over the head felt like..

As the woman walked off he found himself following her as if he were a puppy. Eventually she seemed to relent a little, her name was Lacie..and she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Unfortunately for him..he didn't quite know how to handle that. Any dates he'd been on before were...well not like what he found himself wanting know.

Time passed, every day he rowed back to Ricusare to spend time with Lacie. When the flotilla headed somewhere else he wrote letters, sent packages, did everything he could to stay in contact with her. But as time passed, he realized he was growing tired of the constant travel. He still craved the adventure, but he also craved somewhere he could call home. Somewhere that those of his clan that wished to stay could call home. And if anything, a home port for those that still wished to roam.

Thee years later it seemed his time had come. His mother called on him. He had matured..at least a little. But he still had that unique spark, something she made sure he never lost. This was when she spoke of tradition to him. The details of a story he'd heard before. A story he always knew one day he'd have to add to.

All Marigold clan members had several steps to take before becoming adults. A future chieftain had more than the others, including one that no other could accomplish. When he was younger his arrogance was a driving force, he always claimed he could take down one of the emperors, he could do what no one had done before. But arrogance was a downfall, something his mother warned him of.

The moment she passed a jade coin into his hand, and handed over a spyglass...he realized this was it. He wrote one final letter to Lacie. The truth was he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make it back, if this was the case he wanted her to know everything. To know how he felt from the moment he saw her. Leaving the letter to be delivered he bid his clan farewell and took a small craft directly into the growing storm.

As he walked the path his mother walked long ago, the path her father had walked, the path one day one of his successors may walk, his thoughts were of his clan, and of Lacie. The gate opened for him as he walked slowly into the courtyard...the sight of the five emperors seated across from him was something he couldn't put into words. So this was what it was like to stand before god.

To be continued?

[i-am-bella-donna]

House of Horrors

AO3

Story Summary:

Katya was excited to move into an apartment with Derwin and Amber. Raine was out of town, so this was an opportunity for her and her friends to prove their capabilities as responsible adults. Of course, maybe they should not have started their debut into adulthood by moving into a dangerously haunted apartment. Rule #1: Always lock the front door.

Pairings: Familial Raine x BATs

Word Count: 2,651

CONTENT WARNINGS: BLOOD

A/N: This is both my first attempt at writing horror and my first attempt at writing fanfiction for The Owl House. I really hope you like it.

~~~

The sun was hanging low in the sky by the time Katya had finally shut and locked the apartment door behind her.

Derwin and Amber set the last of their boxes on the floor and collapsed like puppets with their strings cut as Katya stumbled over to the counter, her hands supporting most of her weight as she leaned over it. The three of them had begun the move-in several hours ago, not even taking a break to eat—Katya would be more surprised if they did not look dead on their feet.

With a heavy sigh, she surveyed their new apartment and, at last, broke into a weary smile. The condition was not perfect, but it was significantly better than any of them had expected to find within their budget.

Besides—Katya was fortunate enough to be renting an apartment with her two best friends.

She finally had a home. A family.

A few loose floorboards and stained walls were nothing in comparison.

“Any word from Raine?” Amber spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence. She peeled her arm away from her face and shifted into a more comfortable position on her chair.

Derwin did not open his eyes, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall. “Nothing since their last letter. But I already gave them our address, so any new messages will be sent here.”

Raine and a few other high-ranking members of the Bard Coven were spending a few weeks at the Toes for “official coven business.” Although Raine had been tight-lipped on the details of their trip—which Katya understood, as much as she hated the secrecy—they had apologized profusely for not being able to help the trio with move-in, and promised to come visit as soon as they were back in town.

But it was no issue.

As much as the three of them relied on Raine, they were still adults in their own right. Katya was mostly confident in her ability to take care of herself, and she knew the same was true of Derwin and Amber. This apartment was a chance for them to prove it.

What was the worst that could happen?

~~~

Rule #1: Always lock the front door.

Regardless of the time of day.

Regardless of who else is present.

Regardless of how soon you plan to leave.

When you enter the apartment, lock the door behind you.

The building was previously owned by Oracles.

Derwin, ever the voice of reason, had pointed out the obvious red flags of suspiciously cheap rent and a distinct lack of neighbors. However, Katya and Amber pointed out their even more obvious lack of money and subsequent inability to be picky in choosing an apartment.

And so the trio moved in.

They knew the building was inhabited by spirits—ghosts, ghouls, and others. But that was not entirely uncommon in Bonesborough—there had to be another reason why no one else dared to enter the building. A reason why the former tenants had disappeared without a trace, and even their landlord avoided the place like a plague.

They were expecting the situation to be uncomfortable.

But this was not what they had signed up for.

Closing the front door is useless on its own.

The first time, it was an accident. Amber swore she shut the door behind her—Derwin said the wind must have blown it open, and Katya teased her about forgetting to close it and lying to cover her tracks.

Still, it was no matter of concern. They were the only people in the building. Just shut the door again. No issue. Right?

One mistake was far from the end of the world.

But it was not just one mistake.

The door is a piece of wood. How can it possibly keep away spirits, who are not bound by the laws of nature? Even if the building appears empty, invisible intruders are present and waiting to make their way inside every nook and cranny.

As soon as you find yourself complacent, you will hear the door crack open.

Katya was in the kitchen the next time it happened. She was sitting cross-legged on the counter, tapping the back of her pen rhythmically against her notebook, when she heard it. The door opened with a creak, slow and steady, and footsteps filled the air.

She spoke without looking up. “Hey, Amber. You’re back early.”

The footsteps continued. There was no response. No click of the door being shut.

But Katya thought nothing of it. Why would she? “How was your day?”

The footsteps stopped at the edge of the kitchen, replaced by the sound of labored breathing. Katya blinked at the page as the distinct sensation of being watched settled over her.

“Amber?” she called, finally glancing up. “Are you…”

She froze.

Her notebook and pen hit the floor with a clatter.

Katya screamed.

They never forgot to lock the door again.

~~~

Rule #2: Never let go of the house keys.

House keys follow the usual party rules for drinks.

If you put down your drink, consider it sabotaged.

If you put down your keys, consider them cursed.

Despite their mischievous natures—with the exception of Derwin, who was a model of good behavior—the three young witches were surprisingly careful with their house keys. Amber attached her key ring to the Scroll that she rarely put down, and Katya kept hers on a chain around her wrist.

Even more surprisingly, Derwin was the first to actually set down his keys.

Not in his pocket. Not in his backpack.

On the dining room table.

He set his keys on the table while he cleaned a cooking explosion in the kitchen, because why would he need his keys right now?

He set his keys on the table for five minutes, because what could possibly go wrong in five simple minutes?

He set his keys on the table, because what was wrong with that? It was his home. Home was supposed to be safe.

Why bother with locking the door if the keys are in the open, where anyone can take them?

At first, Derwin did not notice anything wrong.

Five minutes passed.

Amber and Katya arrived home, an armful of groceries in tow. They shut the door behind them. Locked it—a new but already strong habit.

Another ten minutes.

Finally, the lock clicked.

Katya and Derwin did not pick up on the faint sound. Amber barely twitched.

But all of them heard the door creak as it opened. All three of them heard the footsteps.

The keys can only be used once by uninvited guests—immediately afterward, they disintegrate in the keyhole.

The shattering of glass filled the air.

When silence fell at last, Amber set a reminder to replace half of their groceries in the morning, her fingers shaking almost too badly to type on her Scroll.

But once is enough.

By some miracle, they were able to avoid permanent damage. Their landlord was even generous enough to provide a new key without extra charge—although her demeanor made the three suspect that she had expected this outcome.

They were not sure how to react to that possibility.

The next day, Derwin went out and bought them all lanyards for their keys. Just to be safe.

~~~

Rule #3: Stay in a bedroom at night.

The bedroom does not have to be yours. The bathroom—or even a closet—will also suffice.

Between Katya and Amber, their apartment was surprisingly active at night.

As a bat demon, Amber was usually awake for several hours after dark, passing out just hours before sunrise.

As a vampire, Katya was the opposite, usually falling asleep before sunset and waking up after midnight.

Still, both girls stayed in their rooms by habit—a habit that would end up being their saving grace.

In the middle of the night, being out in the open is dangerous.

It started off small. A horrifying glimpse of a silhouette on the way back from the bathroom. A terrifying flash of a monstrous face while getting a drink of water.

Both girls initially thought they were seeing nonsense. They were on edge after recent events—of course their imaginations were running wild.

Besides—everything they saw was silent.

If it made no noise, how could it be real?

If you truly have to leave your room at night, carrying a weapon is advised.

Amber was the first to be ambushed—she was only lucky it had taken as long as it did. She was on a trip back from the bathroom when she walked a little too close to one of the figures.

So slowly she almost failed to notice, their head turned to face her. Their eyes were bulging and bloodshot, blood leaking from their mouth like drool and razor claws reaching toward her.

Amber yelped and jumped back…

The spirits you encounter will show you no mercy.

…but not fast enough.

The claws closed around her arm.

Her cry of pain had Katya and Derwin running.

You will have to fight back.

The three of them all slept in Katya’s room that night.

And no matter what you see or experience, be sure to trust your mind.

You are awake. This battle is not a dream. And the consequences are very real.

The gashes were still there when they woke up.

~~~

Rule #4: Never draw runes with water.

Setting runes is always useful as a secondary protective measure.

While they are no replacement for locking the front door and holding onto your keys, runes are a great way to minimize possible damage.

“Are you sure this will work?” Amber asked hesitantly. She had been unusually subdued after her encounter a few nights ago. Not only had she refused to be in the hallway alone after dark, but she found herself sleeping on the floor in Katya’s room, too afraid to even be embarrassed.

“It has to work,” Katya reassured her friend, fiddling with the key bracelet around her wrist. “This was the best book on runes I could find.”

Runes are usually considered an outdated form of magic. While some people still use and study runes, even more consider them to be unnecessary or even dangerous. They say that the use of runes comes dangerously close to mixing magic—clearly against the will of the Titan.

Schools no longer teach the art of setting runes, so many do not learn that the material used to draw a rune is just as important as the rune itself.

Derwin and Amber held their breaths as Katya used water to draw the first rune on the door. A beat passed. Another.

The basin of water hit the ground with a splash and a clatter.

For some reason, it was boiling when it made contact with their skin.

It is always better to forgo drawing runes than to risk drawing them with water.

This time, Amber was the first to snap out of her stupor and chuck a bottle of apple blood at Katya.

The doors and windows were all warded with apple blood by the end of the day.

~~~

Rule #5: Check the freshness of your food before you eat.

Do not eat rotting food. It should be common sense. Right?

Amber groaned and tossed the box of boo-berries into the trash.

If something is old and moldy, do not eat it.

Katya narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she opened the smilk carton, only to find the liquid inside already curdling.

Sometimes, you will be unlucky enough to find new food already rotting in its container.

Do not eat it, no matter how fresh or tempting it may seem.

Derwin stumbled back in shock as the fresh slices of meat shriveled up in the pan. They turned gray before his very eyes, a putrid stench beginning to fill the air.

In this apartment, the food might even rot as you cook it.

This is normal.

Do not eat it, either.

~~~

Rule #6: Ignore the disembodied laughter.

Disembodied laughter is actually quite harmless.

With the three friends being bards, disembodied laughter was the scariest discovery of their new home.

How dangerous can a little noise be?

As powerful as Bard Magic can be, the cackling that filled their apartment was surprisingly benign. Derwin was the first to realize that, horrifying as it may sound, it would be the easiest threat to deal with.

Just ignore any side effects of the laughter. You know—slamming doors, levitating objects, and flickering lights.

Ignore all of it. If you are nervous, leave the apartment. If you are terrified, leave the building.

The three of them had grown familiar with the way their apartment operated. They no longer even panicked at the laughter—instead, they walked out of the building and returned a few hours later.

Everything will be fine.

~~~

Rule #7: Never let the water run cold.

This rule has obvious exceptions—for example, the water temperature of the sink does not matter.

Katya was taking a shower when it happened.

Amber had showered just minutes before, and Derwin had done the same before Amber, so Katya was unsurprised when the hot water ran out. After all—this was the first instance of the trio taking consecutive showers, and while their supply of hot water had always seemed endless, it was bound to run out eventually

Katya was fully prepared to shower in cold water.

But showers and baths are a different story entirely.

She was not prepared for the water to thicken, rising like abomination matter and wrapping around her ankles and wrists.

When the water runs cold, well…you do not want to find out.

By the time Amber managed to break down the door, blood was mixing with the icy water as it swirled down the drain.

They really needed to resupply their first-aid kit.

~~~

Rule #8: Ignore the shadows.

Many people claim to see dark shadows in the corners of old houses.

At this point, the trio was not even surprised to find motionless silhouettes watching them from hidden spots in the apartment.

Pay it no mind.

Like with the disembodied laughter, they ignored any suspicious shadows—continued moving, talking, and working as though nothing was there.

Shadows only hurt you if you meet their eyes.

~~~

Rule #9: Never stay home alone.

There is no official reason not to be at home by yourself.

But can you honestly imagine staying alone in this house of horrors?

~~~

“…Which is why we now use the buddy system!” Katya finished with a smile, gesturing to the last point on her list. “And there you have it—the list of rules for our apartment!”

Beside her, Amber was grinning like a madwoman. Derwin sent her a supportive smile from his place behind Raine, holding up his Scroll with a message typed for her to see. Good job.

Katya gave Derwin a nod and turned back to Raine, straightening as she eagerly awaited their reply.

Finally, Raine gave a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of their nose.

“All right. You three aren’t staying here.”

Wait.

What?

The three young witches jolted in unison, their expressions filled with varying degrees of shock and confusion. They shared an expression of confusion before Derwin spoke up. “Why not?”

Raine surveyed their apprentices, incredulous. “Can you honestly tell me you feel safe in this apartment?” Without waiting for a reply, they continued with surprising authority, “You can stay with me for now, and I’ll help you find a decent—and safe—place within your price range. But for now, pack your bags.”

“C’mon,” Amber whined, crossing her arms and giving Raine a pleading look. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

As if on cue, a cupboard door slammed open and hit Katya in the back. She toppled forward with a yelp, and Raine lunged, barely managing to catch her before she hit the floor.

“Are you okay?” they asked, setting her back on her feet and giving her a concerned once-over.

There was a long pause before Katya sighed. “We can be ready in ten minutes.”

~~~

A/N: The format of this story was experimental—I just wanted to write a rules horror story (if you have never heard of rules horror, I highly advise you to look it up). Also, I am curious to know what you thought about it. Was it easy to read? Hard? Interesting? Boring?

[bodyalive]

What Can be Done About Scoliosis?

Scoliosis is often thought of as ‘C’ curves or ‘S’ curves in the spine. This is a 2- dimensional representation of the 3-dimensional shape of what is really happening.

Scoliosis is also thought to be a genetic predisposition. But lots of people whose parents and grandparents don’t have Scoliosis develop this problem. The predisposition is in the length of the spine plus the stability of the supporting structures of muscle tone. One can see why the development and discovery of Scoliosis is often during the growth spurt of the early teenage years.

Many people have the neuromuscular imbalances of a person with Scoliosis but they don’t develop the distinctive twisting and collapse of the spine. However, as we age the torques/rotations in our body result in a loss of height. Some of that is rotations and counter rotations in the spine, and the increased lordosis and kyphosis in the neck and rib cage. (for more information click here for what can be done)

Typically there has been some kind of incident or accident that impacted the spine often as a young child. Many of these incidents occur before or during the growth spurt of increased height/length during the transition from pubescence to adulthood when the bone growth outstrips the muscular strength to support them. An impact to the spine that contains a lateral force vector can disable one of the big muscles pulling on the T/L junction for instance. These muscles may end up in a chronic spasm on one side, resulting in predictable inhibitions in other complementary muscles. Now the spinal column is being pulled unevenly. Being engaged in competitive sports during this period of life has its dangers.

Torsions at one level of the spine affect other levels.

There are some logical transition points in rotational transitions, usually where the curves reverse: SubOccipitals, the Cervical/Thoraco junction, the Thoraco/Lumbar junction, and even the L5/S1 junction. Changing what appears to be the primary rotational injury is seldom the end of the story. All the rotations and counter rotations must be checked against one another. This is taught in Advanced NMR for Scoliosis, scheduled August 2023, in Dallas, TX.

These rotational preferences are stored in the Cerebellum as movement and postural support strategies and produce predictable consequences in weakness and instability in joints far from the spine.

Many years of living with these unequal tensions result in layers of compensation as the body seeks stability. The problem becomes more complicated/complex as the years go by and boney changes begin to develop.

Scoliosis requires a detailed untangling of rotational imbalances in the whole postural support system of the body. These changes in neuromuscular function can be accomplished at any age. Much of the pain that is associated with Scoliosis is neuromuscular in origin. The body gives us pain messages when the muscles are not coordinating well. Those pain messages are letting you know that something isn’t working right.

NeuroMuscular Reprogramming enables us to have a detailed conversation with the individual muscles impacting spinal support and movement, and to assist the body in reprogramming movement strategies for better support and stability.

[Jocelyn Olivier]

[NMR :: Neuromuscular Reprogramming]

[dragoneyes618]

Found, again

Note: The character of Eduardo Frollo, son of Claude Frollo and brother of Claudine Frollo, was created by @hannahhook7744

It was hot; he was drenched in sweat, and he was sunburned all over.

Coming on foot had seemed like a good idea. It wasn’t like he could drive in a forest. And he was close enough to the legal age of adulthood that he could leave on his own. He’d talked with them in person and everything. Then he’d left, and here he was.

 There were bugs everywhere; buzzing around his head, flying in his mouth and nose. He stumbled through the thick green foliage; he had not thought forests could be this verdant. But it meant he could barely see in front of him. Which meant he didn’t see the river, either, until he slipped in the mud, and by then it was too late.

Well, at least he wasn’t hot anymore.

.

She exited the school slightly behind Mirabel and Camilo, listening to them chatter about Antonio’s menagerie. Apparently he was convincing all his animal friends to come play with him in the garden at different times every day. He had a schedule and everything.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face, the cooling breeze.

The sounds of the Encanto surrounded her: The wind blowing through the leaves, women talking to each other and calling to their children, said children running around in a complicated game of tag like she had never played when she was their age.

Claudine was a far cry from the terrified nine-year-old who had been sent by Auradon to live in the Encanto along with several other Isle children. That had been five years ago, and many of the Isle children had left the Encanto, to be reunited with family members or friends. But some had stayed, and Claudine was one of them.

She’d been not yet ten when she had first come, fighting the officials who brought her, shouting at them to bring her back to her father; accusing the Madrigals of witchcraft, refusing to even enter Casa Madrigal for fear for her soul, locking herself in the room they’d given her for hours on end, terrified of the slightest mistake she might make, praying far more than even the priest deemed necessary, obsessively repeating certain motions over and over. 

She was different now. More at peace. She could actually hold conversations with people, and be calm throughout and after. She wasn’t afraid of punishment; no one punished her here the way her father had anyway. She’d started attending the regular school two years ago. She understood that it was a miracle that saved the Encanto, not evil witchcraft, and she understood that she was not an unholy witch (most of the time). She was...

Happy.

Except for one thing, one niggling thing that she often thought about. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it anyway, not until she came of age at least.

.

He kicked out for land and felt nothing; he flailed around, unable to see anything. He coughed and choked on water as it filled his mouth and nose. The current swept him along, banging him into a rock; his face was above water for just long enough for him to draw in a breath, and then he was under again. Why had he never learned how to swim?

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been like this when finally he brushed against the bank of the river. Scrambling, he kicked out with his feet and flailed with his arms and managed to drag himself ashore. He crawled a few feet, out of the water’s reach, and just collapsed and let himself drift away.

.

They walked through the village, weaving around the game of tag-Antonio had gotten Parce involved-waving hello and calling greetings to the villagers they passed. Well, Camilo and Mirabel did. Claudine didn’t say anything as she held her schoolbooks, but she smiled in greeting. She had a wonderful smile, Senora Julieta had told her.

When she had first arrived, she had been told to address the adults as Senor and Senora Madrigal. She’d even called Isabela, Dolores, and Luisa all Senorita, until they told her it wasn’t necessary.

But as time went on, and she stayed for longer, and Pepa and Julieta realized that if Claudine wasn’t sitting with them the table felt incomplete, it had felt odd for them to have her address them formally. If she was living with them, supposed to be part of the family, should she not feel like it?

The suggestion had been made for her to call them all Tia and Tio, but eventually they’d settled on having her still call them Senor or Senora, but with their first names. Senora Julieta. Senora Pepa. Senors Felix, Agustin, and Bruno. And the matriarch of the family? Senora Abuela.

.

“Oye! Hola, estas vivo?“

Something was shaking him. He was tired, so tired.

“El se esta moviendo,” someone else said. He almost knew the meaning, but not quite. Half-familiar, half-strange. It had been a very long time....

He opened his eyes, squinting, seeing nothing but vague shadowy figures against bright sunlight. “Hello?”

“Oh, un extranjero,” yet another voice said.

“No se ve como un extranjero,” the first voice noted dubiously. Its owner proffered something to him, and when he made no movement, put it to his lips. A flask of water, and as he swallowed, he felt rejuvenated, both by the water from the kindness from a stranger. The place where he’d grown up hadn’t had much of that.

He blinked, able to see more clearly now. Three men stood around him. From their nets and poles, it appeared that they’d been planning on fishing, before their work on finding sustenance for the day had been interrupted by finding a half-drowned teenage boy.

Something clicked in his brain, and the rapid Spanish the men were speaking to each other manifested into meaning in his mind. Mostly, anyway, if he concentrated.

“Dónde estoy?” he asked, the words strange and clumsy on his lips.

They stared at him.

“So you do speak Spanish!” the man who had given him the water said.

“Slowly,” he requested, holding up a hand. “It has been a long time...” More than ten years.

“So, who are you?” one of the other men asked him. “How did you get here?”

“I fell in,” he started. He was shivering now, his clothes still soaked.

The third man snorted. “That’s obvious.”

“Is this the Encanto?” he asked.

They stared at him, the suspicion that had vanished when he had revealed he spoke their tongue suddenly reappearing in full force.

“How do you know of the Encanto?” the largest man asked.

“I came looking for it.” He fumbled for the words. “So this is the Encanto? I am looking for-can I talk to-your leader, whoever is in charge?”

They looked at each other and whispered together. Eventually the decision was made to take him to someone called “Dona Alma,” whom, they assured him, they were not bringing him to because he’d requested it but simply because she was their leader, and they would have brought him to her anyway.

“Also take him to Senora Madrigal,” the man staying behind to try to catch at least some fish called to the other two as they led him away.

“In case he’s a scout for an enemy and she needs to call up a storm to stop them?” one of them asked.

“No, the other Senora Madrigal! He’s going to catch pneumonia if you don’t!”

.

Claudine had been eleven when Dona Alma addressed her. She had not call her Senora Abuela, not yet.

Claudine had been walking through the parlor, about to leave, when Dona Alma said, suddenly, from where she was sitting quietly in her armchair, “You respect your father.”

Claudine turned to her and nodded.

“You love him.”

Another nod.

“You fear him.”

Still another nod.

“You revere him.”

Yet another nod. This was all the plain truth. Claudine knew it in her bones.

“That is all as it should be.” Dona Alma leaned forward. “A child should respect and love his father and mother. My own children do-to me, at least. They never got a chance with my Pedro....”

Claudine stood still.

“But you. What you have told us, how you act...you fear him more than you love him.”

.

The men brought him through a bustling little village, and he would have gazed around at the bright colors and village daily life and that girl single-handedly carrying a donkey over her head if he hadn’t been so wet and cold, so nervous...

He was brought through a market, and he barely registered it, scanning the faces of everyone he passed, barely noticing their puzzled expressions at seeing him, looking for....

The men stopped at one of the market stands, and the woman behind it, a middle-aged lady with dark, greying hair, said “Oh!” and handed him something warm and flaky to eat. He didn’t know what it was, but as soon as he’d swallowed it, he felt better, not as cold and dizzy. He stared at her.

“Who’s this young man?” she asked the men who had brought him. “What happened to him?”

One of them shrugged. “He fell in the river, Senora Madrigal. But he knew we were here. He came looking for us.”

She frowned. “Is that so?” She turned to look at him. “Who are you?”

He licked his lips, choosing his words carefully. This would have been hard enough without having to do it in a language he hadn’t spoken since his mother’s death. He didn’t even know if this was the right person to ask. But...

Madrigal. He knew that name. She probably was.

“My name is Eduardo,” he said. “Eduardo Frollo. I came looking for my sister.”

.

Mirabel, Camilo, and Claudine entered Casita-Claudine no longer flinched at Casita’s friendly window-shutter blinks-to find nearly the entire familia gathered in the dining room.

Abuela was sitting in her seat at the head of the table. Pepa and Julieta were sitting together on the couch. Felix and Agusting were sitting in their usual seats at the table. Bruno was pacing. Isabela, Dolores, Luisa, and Antonio were nowhere to be seen, which of course meant that they were all upstairs, with Dolores listening to every word that was said and relaying it to the others. Everyone’s attention was focused on one young man-still a boy, really-in soaking wet clothes, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Bruno scrutinized him.

“Ah, they’re home,” Senora Abuela said as everyone turned to them expectantly. “Claudine. This boy says-”

His figure, his profile, the shape of his face, the way he stood-Claudine felt a frisson of fear, but the chills had barely gone down her spine when he turned, and they saw each other’s faces.

“-that he’s your brother,” Senora Abuela finished as they stared at each other.

“Claudine.” He looked different. Older. Taller. Both harder and softer, somehow. A man, almost, bearing unmistakable resemblances to their father. But his dark eyes were calm and joyful, like they had never been when they were younger. She had always pictured him at twelve, but of course, she was older than that now, and he had aged as well.

“Eduardo.” She looked different. That is to say, she looked the same as she had before, just taller. But so different-she stood with confidence. Her cheeks had a healthy flush. She was even slightly sunburned. Her grey eyes (their father’s eyes) were calm, peaceful, happy. It was like she was a new person.

“I told you,” Bruno said, and then everyone started talking at once.

“So this is him!” That was Camilo.

“See, I told you you’d meet each other again one day!” Mirabel.

“Clear skies, clear skies!” Pepa was raining, but with sunshine and rainbows; with happiness, now sorrow. She and her sister and brother were hugging each other, no doubt remembering their own reunion.

But Claudine barely heard any of that. She was lost in memories.

.

Claudine was four, and her brother was seven, and he was sitting in bed with her telling her a story in a hushed voice. It was a story of his mother, who sang songs and gave hugs and was even-dare it be said? Despite the fact that she was disobedient, lawbreaking, a witch, like their father said? And their father’s word was law-good.

“I think she would have liked you,” her brother told her.

“Really? Why?” Claudine was just a little child who could never do good. Her father only cared for her out of his com...comp....a long word that Claudine didn’t know, but it meant he had a good heart. But why would anyone else like her?

“Well,” her brother said. “I like you. I would have brought you home and she would have taken care of you too.”

.

Claudine was six, and she was afraid of the dark. She was a big girl now, and now she was supposed to sleep all by herself in her own room, all the way until the sun would rise and her father would wake her up, but she was all by herself and it was so dark and the shadows moved and there were demons and devils and witches hiding in them, they were going to drag her away with them into the darkness-

The door opened on soundless hinges, a shaft of lantern light cutting through the shadows and chasing them away, to reveal the face of her nine-year-old brother.

“Hi,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

She was not going to cry. She was a big girl. She had nothing to cry about.

“I came to check on you,” he whispered. “Should I stay with you?”

She shook her head. “Father said we’re supposed to stay in our own rooms,” she whispered back.

“You’re right,” he pointed out. He thought about this. “How about I leave my door open, and you leave your door open, so it’s not so dark, and we could see each other? I’ll do it for you.” 

He propped her door open with a chair. Then he went out into the dark, scary hallway, and she didn’t hear his door open, but she saw a shaft of light, which meant that he’d hung his lantern on his doorknob so she could see it. Standing in his open doorway, he waved. She waved back.

.

Claudine was seven, and her brother was ten, and they were having what she would later learn was called a “thought-provoking conversation.”

“You can’t be a sinner if you didn’t do anything wrong,” her brother told her.

“But I slept too late,” she said. “I was supposed to be using that time for-”

Her brother interrupted her. He did that a lot. “But you stayed up late instead. So really you were up for the same amount of time. Besides, I slept a little bit late last week, and Father didn’t tell me that was a sin.”

“But I’m a girl,” she said. “So it’s worse if I do it. Because I am more inclined to witchcraft and evil, and all women draw good men to sin anyway.” Neither of them quite understood what these words she was echoing meant, though.

“Right,” he said, “but if...” He struggled to formulate his thoughts into words. “But if all girls are supposed to be evil sinners, then why do they exist?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well,” he said. “We exist in the world because we’re supposed to do good, right? But if all girls were automatically evil then you wouldn’t exist, because you wouldn’t even have the chance to be good. So how would that work?”

Claudine didn’t know.

“I’m going to ask Father,” he said.

.

Claudine was eight, and everything hurt.

She lay in her bed, trying not to shake, biting her lip so hard it bled to prevent herself from crying. She wasn’t supposed to cry, she couldn’t cry, she deserved this, this was going to make her a better person, how dare she cry-

There were footsteps, and she jerked up, but couldn’t sit up and sunk back down, gasping in pain, only for her brother’s face to materialize in her field of vision.

“I got a cream from Mrs. Tremaine,” he whispered. “I think it should help. Should I put it on?”

She shook her head, wincing. “But Father said-”

“It’s not supposed to make it feel better,” he told her. “It’s just supposed to make it actually get better, so you can do what you’re supposed to. That’s good, right?” It was not the first time he had tried to find a loophole.

She thought about this, and nodded. “Thank you, Edward.”

“Eduardo,” he corrected as he unscrewed the small, nearly empty bottle. He insisted on very little, but this was one of them. “Okay, I’ll put it on. I’ll be gentle. Hold still.”

.

Claudine was nine, and Eduardo was twelve, and they were clutching each other’s hands in a crowd full of bedraggled, wild children as the adults tried to shout directions and they were steered away from the bridge.

Eventually, they were separated into small groups. The tall, strict-looking lady in charge announced that the group would be sent to nice places where people would take care of them.

But they couldn’t be in Auradon, in Auradon was the magic that would corrupt their souls, the evil people who thought they were good were here, they had someone who took care of them, they had their father, they owed him everything, what would they do without him-

“It’s going to be okay,” Eduardo told her. “We’ll be okay. We’ll figure things out.”

She didn’t realize how tight she was holding his hand until they were steered into separate groups, and they had to be yanked apart.

“No!” she screamed. “No! Edward! Eduardo! Come back!” She kicked and screamed and flailed and bit. She was terrified, she was all alone, surrounded by nobody but strange children she didn’t know and the scary adults and they were going to take her far away-

He was shouting too, fighting as hard as she was. “I’ll come back to you!” he shouted as they dragged him away. “I’ll find you! Don’t worry! I’ll find you!”

.

It had been five years.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he said.

“Give them some space!” Senora Pepa began shooing everyone out of the room. “They haven’t seen each other in years-” Bruno looked guilty- “let them talk!”

Camilo and Mirabel exchanged looks and vanished without protest, presumably to find Dolores. Soon the room was empty except for the two of them.

“So...” he began, and stopped. Where to start? This felt so strange-she wasn’t the nine-year-old sister he had known anymore. “Are you...are you all right?”

She nodded. “I am, I really am, I was frightened at first-but what about you, where did the Auradon people send you?”

“They sent me to live with good people. They care about me, they helped me, I even care about them-I told them about you, that I wanted to find you, and they just let me go. They’re really nice. I said I would bring you to visit them. Um-if you want.”

“I don’t...” she hesitated. “I...”

“Or you could stay here,” he added quickly. “These people are the Madrigals?”

She nodded. “How did you know?”

“I heard that’s where your group was sent. I didn’t know anything else, though. That’s why it took me so long. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she told him. “I mean-it’s good here, too. I missed you, but-they care about me. Their little boy even thinks I’m his big sister. Like, for real.”

He nodded slowly.

This felt so strange. Not what a reunion between beloved siblings should be. They were almost like strangers now. They had lived such different lives in the past five years. And, he had learned, the years they’d lived together had not been the most...normal.

“Um,” she said, moving a strand of hair behind her ear in a gesture so familiar it gave him deja vu. She’d always used to do that. 

It was comforting to know that some things didn’t change.

“I can show you around the house,” she offered.

He smiled genuinely. “That would be nice.” When they were young, he’d always tried to find ways that she could be independent, and now here she was taking the initiative! Besides, now he could get to know the people his sister lived with, and the person his sister had become.

“Okay. So this way is the kitchen. The whole house has a name, you know, they call it Casita...”