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tendouluvr · 4 years ago

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aizawa as a dad - teenage!reader

- fluff, dad aizawa momen

- warnings: hrmm none i think

- wc: 1.3k

a/n: basically me listing things i want bc im dadless

ps this is before the dorms were implemented meaning this takes place before that, so things that happened after that does not exist in this world

remembers your birthday

#! even you don’t remember it sometimes, but he does

#! it’s the morning of your birthday, you’re both in the kitchen

#! he’s drinking his daily dose of caffeine, lazily packing his lunch

#! you’re..falling asleep at the dining table...

#! you hear the chair next to you scrape across the floor, opening your eyes you see your dad deeply sigh while taking a seat

#! “you’re older now, so that means you have to be more responsible. you should be taking care of yourself. you also should listen to me more.”

#! you: ... (•.•?)

#! him: ..what?

#! “huh, what’re you going on about?” you rack your brain to think what could’ve possibly made him go on that unexpected lecture

#! “.......it’s your-,”

#! “OH, it’s my birthday,” you cut him off, giggling to yourself for forgetting such day

#! he sighs again and just pats your head before getting up to start leaving for school

#! “c’mon, you’ll be late.”

#! “ok~~.”

#! you won’t be late. he always make sure you’ll never be late, but he likes saying that because he thinks it’s so parent-like

always backs you up

#! even if deep down he knows you might lose in the practice battle against todoroki, he’s on your side

#! when it comes to silly little things like witty arguments between him and uncle present mic, you back him up leaving present mic with his echoed wails

#! also vice versa when you’re in some annoying banter with denki or something

#! you don’t call him ‘dad’ in class, nor does he show signs of favoritism towards you

#! you both know familial relations in school would always cause people to think about bias, favoritism, cheating, etc.

#! so luckily, he’s mature and you are too so you both know to not act so close with each other in school

#! but you drop the whole ‘aizawa sensei’ thing when you guys are alone

#! you did accidentally call him dad once when he was passing back test papers and you had a question about something

#! you were focused on the test papers you just got back, forgetting that you were in class for a second, and blurted out a quick, “dad? can you explain this.”

#! you didn’t even realize what you said until it got noticeably quiet in the class, causing you to raise your eyes up from the paper to see everyone looking at you and aizawa

#! he could care less, the man was getting cozy at his desk

#! you walked over to him anyway so he could answer your question

feeds you a lot of pre-made food or food that wasn’t cooked by him

#! he can’t really cook

#! he could do the bare minimum but the most you’ll ever get out of him is probably ramen with your favorite add-ons

#! his bffs can cook

#! aizawa doesn’t eat much himself, so when you entered his life he wasn’t really sure what to feed you

#! his best friends would cook for him now and then because they’re aware of his eating habits

#! but then they suddenly had two aizawas to feed

#! growing up you also ate a lot of freezer food. the good kinds though, the freezer food that doesn’t have that freezery taste after its been heated up

#! even though he couldn’t make you food, he still watched out for you and what you ate

#! if he notices that you’re eating too much sweet, he’ll comment on it. if he notices that you’re overdoing it with the salt, he’ll comment on it with a stern lecture about how deadly sodium can be.

#! he picks up your favorite convenience store snacks a lot after school

#! does aizawa seem like the type to make you eat veggies?? i’m not sure. sure he wants you to be healthy and not just consume junk, but i feel like he also doesn’t do too well with veggies

#! aizawa is secretly picky with his veggies hhhhh there’s specific ones he really likes, but for the most part he finds everything else weird in some way

#! headcanon that aizawa pouted over veggies he didn’t like as a kid and he would just stare at it thinking it’ll go away on its own

is loaded and spoils you unintentionally

#! he’s a prohero, one of the highest paying jobs by the government in the bnha universe

#! plus his teaching job. i know teachers salary isn’t too good, but it’s ua and this isn’t real life, so he’s probably getting paid stacks

#! also i think the cat outfit he bought for eri is suppose to be from some japanese brand that’s the equivalent of gucci in the u.s. (but ignore this bc this happened after the dorms were a thing 😁😁)

#! anyway he bought you a lot of toys as a kid, and tons of horrendous outfits that you cry over but never to his face because he’s trying his best </33

#! now that you’re a teenager, he doesn’t buy you toys anymore but has now evolved to buying you electronics on your birthday and just giving you pocket money

#! obviously aizawa doesn’t flaunt his wealth though, he doesn’t care about that and finds it unnecessary

#! he also barely spends on himself so he just has even more money saved up for no reason

#! but the thing is,, he doesn’t even realize how much he spends on you until you sit him down to talk to him

#! “dad, i do not need a new laptop. i’m fine with the one i have now, it’s still good. i saw you looking at laptops the other day.”

#! “what made you think i was looking at laptops for you?”

#! silence

#! complete, utter silence .....

#! “who’s it for then?!”

#! he rolls his eyes before answering you, “none of your business. go away.”

#! “ok fine whatever-,” you mumbled, “but my point still stands. i don’t need anything, and even if i did i can buy it myself!” you exclaimed boldly

#! “with what money?” he blankly stares at you

#! “with.....with... money i save up from birthdays and holidays because i never get to spend them!”

#! he just sighs, gets up from the couch, and walks away leaving you standing there smiling because you knew it was a successful talk

#! here’s a link to something i read that further added to my aizawa rich headcanon :]

kisses you goodnight on your forehead after he comes home from late missions/pro-hero runs

#! when you were a kid, you slept on his bed to feel safer

#! when he came home from late missions, he would walk into his room to see you bundled up in the blanket

#! after quickly getting ready for bed because he was schlumped, he got into bed as gently as possible to not wake you up

#! but you’re a light sleeper so you felt a familiar warmth encasing you and it jolted you awake, slightly whimpering trying to turn your head to see your dad

#! he noticed and quietly shushed you to get you back to sleep, “sh sh, it’s okay, it’s just me.”

#! your tiny arms would wrap around his chest and you stuffed your chubby face into his chest before you dozed off once again

#! now that you sleep in your own room, he would come home and peek in to check up on you

#! sometimes you were still awake — studying, on your phone, cleaning your room, insomnia, or just because

#! in this case he would just peek his head in, squint his tired eyes at you, mumble a slurred, “night.”, sigh at your smile that was clearly there to keep you from laughing, then finally head towards his room

#! but when he catches you asleep, he smiles to himself and makes his way into your room to give you a small forehead kiss before whispering, “goodnight.”

#! you never grew out of the light sleeping thing though, so you always knew of his small show of fatherly love

#! just don’t bring it up ever because he’s tired of you

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skyguyed · 5 years ago

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the normalization of abusive behavior in reylo

for those wondering why some people are calling reylo an abusive ship, below the divide are examples and explanations from The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi where Kylo Ren displays abusive behavior towards Rey.

This is important because abusive/toxic actions in fiction are often normalized to the point where viewers may not notice abusive behaviors as red flags, or may grow to see abusive behavior as normal, even romantic (or valid precursors to romance).

This post will also discuss the role of fictional portrayals in shaping reality, and why I believe supporting reylo means normalizing abuse.

Thank you in advance for your time and energy to read this.

The purpose of this post

This post (essay, really, it’s gotten pretty long) will examine every interaction between Rey and Kylo Ren, and will point out where and how abuse occurs in this relationship. I will also discuss why this matters.

This post is not meant to police anyone or insult, nor is it meant to incite disrespectful arguments. It is not a call for censorship. The purpose of this post is to help unaware reylo shippers understand where and why reylo is abusive, to help fans recognize abusive behavior, to assess the relationship between fiction and reality, and to discuss why I believe supporting reylo means normalizing abuse.

Trigger warnings for mentions, descriptions, and discussions of violence, domestic violence, abuse, and rape.

Legal definition of abuse:

According to the judicial branch of California,

The domestic violence laws say “abuse” is:

Physically hurting or trying to hurt someone intentionally or recklessly;

Sexual assault;

Making someone reasonably afraid that he or she or someone else is about to be seriously hurt (like threats or promises to harm someone); OR

Behavior like harassing, stalking, threatening, or hitting someone, disturbing someone’s peace, or destroying someone’s personal property).

Read more about Domestic Violence.

What abusive behavior does reylo display?

Kylo Ren exhibits these types of abusive behaviors towards Rey (timestamps indicated when appropriate):

Immobilizing her

Using the Force in the forest on Takodana (TFA, 1:17:32)

With physical restraints in First Order custody (TFA, 1:25:40)

Threatening her with a weapon

With light saber, while she’s immobilized by him (TFA, 1:18:00)

Stalking her

“You still want to kill me.” “That happens why you’re being hunted by a creature in a mask.” (TFA, 1:26:08)

Putting down her friends

“Where are the others?” “You mean the murderers, traitors, and thieves you call friends?” (TFA, 1:25:57)

Kylo Ren called Rey’s parents “filthy junk traders” (TLJ 1:48)

Hurting her friends: Finn, mortally (TFA, 1:54:42)

Not to mention killing his father Han in front of her, who had become someone she trusted.

Entering her (mind) without permission (confirmed by JJ Abrams as an intentional rape parallel in a Facebook post to Daniel Fleetwood, since deleted/made private - see summary here)

This happened twice- once on Takodana when he had her immobilized (TFA, 1:18:12), and then again in First Order custody: “You know I can take whatever I want.” (TFA, 1:27:00) despite her tears, fear, and obvious discomfort and protests

Threatening to expose her secrets (where is BB-8 and the map to Luke Skywalker)

Attacking her with a weapon

Also using the force to attack her (multiple times)

Rendering her unconscious (real world equivalent: drugging or physical violence)

First on Takodana with the Force, (TFA 1:13:32), then on Starkiller Base, by launching her into a tree (TFA 1:51:24)

Trying to manipulate her (into joining the Dark Side)

Snoke may have initiated their force bond, but as soon as Kylo realized what it was, he started using it to make Rey sympathize with him

Kylo Ren feeds Rey only part of his side of the story, painting himself as a victim (leaving out how he slaughtered/turned the other students, and what he did to concern Luke in the first place [re: the “darkness rising in him,” TLJ 1:00:33])

Gaslighting and verbal abuse: “You have no place in this story. You come from nothing. You’re nothing... but not to me.”

“Your parents threw you away like garbage. You can’t stop needing them.” (TLJ 1:12:02) He hangs this over her head, again at TLJ 1:31. And “the truth” at 1:48.

Kylo also literally abducts Rey after knocking her out, although that isn’t on the cited list. And he frames her for murdering Snoke after she wouldn’t join him, which puts a huge target on her back. And um, tries to actually kill her (“BLOW THE PIECE OF JUNK -- OUT OF THE SKY!”)

Kylo’s own manipulation, abuse, and gaslighting by Snoke do not excuse his treatment of Rey. (Finn was abused and brainwashed, too. And he chose to turn better.)

Here are resources for abuse victims.

Why the interrogation scene has clear rape parallels

This is not meant to cheapen or lessen the trauma faced by physical rape/assault victims. I understand that this comparison is upsetting to some people because, since it is presented on-screen as a parallel, it could be argued as much less severe or even be seen as trivializing the plight of real-life victims. I’m not trying to speak for all abuse victims when I say this, but as a person who has experienced sexual violation, I can’t help but see a clear parallel here.

The interaction is highly invasive. Rey is terrified and protests when she is able to. Kylo Ren tells her shit like not to be afraid, etc. (which sounds like stuff abusers say). She tells him to stop (1:27:39) “Get out of my head” and still he proceeds, ignoring verbal and physical protests. This is not a healthy dynamic, and shouldn’t be portrayed as romantic, or as a prucursor to romance. It’s clearly violating, and it’s triggering to a lot of fans.

When we do not acknowledge this scene as a nonconsensual psychological invasion of a person, I believe we are glossing over an extremely vital dynamic in this relationship. The fact that Kylo says to Rey, “I can take whatever I want,” shows an entitlement to her mind and body that he doesn’t deserve, an attitude shared by many abusers. It creates a power difference that forces Rey to fight back to regain control from him. I’ve seen people argue that he was “gentle” but gentle violation is still violation.

But they’re at war.

This really doesn’t excuse Kylo’s actions towards Rey, sorry. And even if they are at war, this kind of behavior he’s exibited towards her thus far does not make a good foundation for a healthy relationship. That trauma, those offenses will still be there.

Also, if they’re at war, Rey has every reason to fight back, so saying that “Rey abused Kylo Ren back” when he’s the perpetrator is a flimsy argument. Her ability to “kick his ass” does not make her immune to abuse. It also shifts the blame for Kylo’s mistreatment from him, to her, which is vastly unfair, echoing the victim-blaming sentiment that’s pervasive in our own reality, that real victims face.

Why do we care if Reylo is abusive? It’s just fiction.

We should care that Reylo is abusive because fiction reflects and influences reality. This TED Talk discusses how fiction changes people by increasing empathy, and changes a person’s point of view. Fiction is powerful in shaping a person’s actions. Reading fiction helps readers navigate a real social world. Additionally, fiction can spark public dialogue and raise attention to real-world issues. Reading fiction has been associated with an increase in charitable giving and voting (x).

Here are some examples of fiction influencing reality:

Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852) was the first major US novel with a Black main character, and it “ opened reader’s eyes to the realities of slavery and the humanity of enslaved people.” “Stowe’s candor on the controversial subject of slavery encouraged others to speak out, further eroding the already precarious relations between northern and southern states and advancing the nation’s march toward Civil War.” (x) Conversely, in modern times, it has helped popularize harmful antiquated stereotypes of Black people (x).

Joe Biden attributed historic changes in American views of homosexuality to Will and Grace (1998), which influenced American views on LGBT rights and helped open the door to more programs with LGBT leads.

Fifty Shades of Grey (2011) popularized BDSM and caused a spike in reported sex-related injuries, and has been accused of perpetuating dangerous abuse standards. A 2014 study showed correlation between the novel’s readers and eating disorders, abusive relationships, and binge drinking.

Star Trek has been vastly influential. Astronaut Mae Jemison (the first Black woman in space) was inspired by Lt. Uhura. The show featured American TV’s first interracial on-screen kiss. Steve Wozniak cited Star Trek as an influence for co-founding Apple (x). Star Trek has encouraged many people to pursue a career in science (x).

Jaws (1974) caused beach attendance to fall the following summer, sparked an increase in shark trophy hunting, and demonized sharks in the public eye. (However, shark research received more funding.)

Six in ten Americans get their HIV/AIDS information from the media (x). Musicals like Rent (1993) helped humanize people living with HIV/AIDS, as well as LGBT people. Rent has also been cited as helping encourage LGBT people to come out.

The Turner Diaries (1978) is a novel cited by white supremacists.

Lolita’s (1955) sexualization of a 12-year-old girl has impact on modern celebrities wardrobe choices and image.

Black Beauty (1877) caused the bearing rein to be banned in Victorian England and inspired animal welfare activists.

Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle (1906) portrayed harsh working conditions for immigrants in industrial areas, and raised awareness and produced public outcry which directly led to the passing of the Meat Inspection Act and the Pure Food and Drug Act, both in 1906.

After the release of 13 Reasons Why (2017), schools saw an increase in student self harm and suicides, and related internet searches.

Psychologist Raymond Mar writes, “Researchers have repeatedly found that reader attitudes shift to become more congruent with the ideas expressed in a [fiction] narrative.” “For example,if we watch a TV program showing a sexual encounter gone wrong, our own sexual ethics will change... If, however, the show displays a positive sexual encounter, our own sexual attitudes will move towards the permissive end of the spectrum.” (x pg 150)

In one study, 19% of respondents said that after finishing a work, a character’s voice stayed with them, influencing the tone of their thoughts (x).

More resources:

100 stories that changed the world

The power of fake gay (and black) friends: We form judgements about characters the same way we form judgements about people.

Readers may change their beliefs and thoughts to match a fictional character’s

The importance of framing in relationship portrayal, an essay by an abuse victim. This essay is very long but it is a must-read. It also touches on the fact that the power of fiction is more than just having fun and our experiences shape how we interpret media.

Abduction as Romance - a harmful trope where the abductor is framed as “a decent guy” at the end. (20-min video, well worth the watch.) Danger is portrayed as a sexy trait, while the disempowerment of women is fetishized. The video also comments on how often white guys get away with it, while men of color don’t. Also, see commentary at the end of the video about what real redemption means.

Yeah, but how does supporting reylo influence reality?

Supporting Reylo means that we’re giving credibility and validity to violence at the beginning of a romance. It’s like saying to a child who got pushed by another on the playground, “oh, they’re bullying you because they have a crush on you.” It’s promoting a fundamental entitlement and disrespect.

Impressionable young people seeing this abuse treated as a desirable dynamic, as conditions that could lead to romance, are being primed to accept this or even emulate this in their own relationships. When we see this treated as acceptable in fiction, we are primed to see this as acceptable in reality.

Why not promote healthier dynamics? Why not rehearse the rejection of abusive behavior?

A look at canon

So, let’s not forget, that in canon, Rey and Kylo Ren are not in a relationship. So, some say, that means it’s impossible for this to be abuse. However, by suggesting that these characters should be in a relationship is harmful because it romanticizes rocky starts to relationships, and physically violent starts to relationships.

More reasons why Kylo Ren is dangerous

While Kylo Ren has been shown in canon to be able to freeze or immobilize people, instead he mortally wounds Finn, who is clearly Rey’s friend and defender, in order to intimidate her and overpower her.

Not to mention that throughout the film, he displays characteristics of an abuser, such as violence towards others, (uh, murder), destruction of property, and other characteristics. It may be argued that these outbursts are symptoms of mental illness. It may also be argued that Kylo Ren is a victim of abuse himself, by Snoke. However, none of this excuses his shitty behavior. Being mentally ill or also an abuse victim does not grant one a free pass to act abusive towards others.

Kylo Ren also tortures and invades and abuses Poe Dameron. Thank god I haven’t seen anyone shipping them. Kylo Ren is an abuser, y’all.

Oh and one more thing? Kylo Ren never uses Rey’s name in the TFA; he doesn’t see her as a person, just an object to overpower, an obstacle to beat down. He doesn’t use her name until The Last Jedi, when he begins to try to manipulate her, rather than indimidate her with force alone. Then she becomes a tool to him. Clearly he still doesn’t value her as a whole person. Again, not romantic. Dangerous and toxic.

Why I’m still against Reylo even if Kylo is redeemed

It’s not a woman’s responsibility to “fix a damaged man.” (It’s not anyone’s responsibility to use romance to “fix” anyone, actually. Romance is not a cure for abuse.) The burden of redemption should be on the villain alone. Kylo had plenty of opportunities to accept help. Additionally, we shouldn’t support abusive behavior as a start or precursor to romance, because that’s a really harmful message to send. And, previous acts of violence are the biggest predictors of future violence, so I’m wary of them entering a relationship without significant amounts of therapy and reform on Kylo’s part.

What do we do from here?

Don’t support Reylo. That’s it. No conditionals. No “well if they change” no “well they’re fictional so they can be written differently” no AUs, no. Please don’t promote a relationship that is based in abuse.

I’m not saying we need to sanitize our fiction of abuse or of abusive relationships. That’s not going to make them go away in real life. I’m not trying to censor or silence anything. I’m trying to make sure that abusive relationships are CLEARLY FRAMED as abusive, and not promoted, normalized, or glorified in any way. (See my previous post discussing this.)

Have fun, but understand that fiction is powerful and influential, and it’s our responsibility to engage with it in a way that supports healthy relationships.

#anti reylo #star wars #anti kylo ren #arop #ok to reblog

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slinkinginshadows · 6 years ago

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One Life for Another

Summary: Ryou wants Mariku out of the shadows, and has to make a deal to get him back that involves becoming a surrogate for a demon.

Warnings: Demon pregnancy with a male character (but with ‘normal’ birthing organs), body horror, eating of a dead animal because of cravings, and a birthing scene. No sex/impregnation, though.

Wordcount: 5776

Well, this took a full month to make, the longest I’ve worked on something and the longest oneshot I’ve made in my 7 years of fanfic-ing, so I’d really love reblogs/replies/feedback!

Can mostly be read without context of yu gi oh, the ‘plot-related’ stuff is just why he’s pregnant. All you need to know is that in the series, Mariku was sealed into an alternate dark reality that’s referred to as ‘the Shadows’ and that really sucks, it’s full of monsters and junk, and Ryou wants him out. Ryou’s body is good at handling magic because he was a host to a creature from the shadows that he was often possessed by.

Ryou had clawed his way into the shadows for this, and he wasn’t leaving without Mariku. They’d managed to communicate through a Ouija board and a few possessions that had allowed them to talk, but as much as Mariku had tried to hide it, he was getting weaker. He’d either die or become completely unresponsive, and Ryou couldn’t have that.

Which was why his magical projection was talking to a demon. They had skin the color of red velvet cupcakes, and a grin at Ryou’s nervous chatter.

“You want me to draw this man you love from the darkness for no payment?”

“What do you want?” Ryou chose each word carefully, and the demon paused to think. Ryou was struck by their eyes- a dazzling, almost ruby-red color.

“I want… you.”

“Me?” Ryou half-squeaked, before steadying himself. “If you want my virginity, then- “

“Oh, no, pet. I mean you. Your body.”

“You want to possess me?” He tried again, and again the demon shook their head.

“I can tell your body is strong in the ways of magic. If you want this man back, then you will consent to carry a child for me.”

Ryou’s eyes widened. “You want me as an incubator.”

They clapped their hands. “Bingo! One life for another. I give you what you want, and you give me what I want. That sounds fair, don’t you think?”

Ryou swallowed. “I assume this is the only deal you’ll take.”

“Unless you’re willing to offer your soul, which people seem so stingy with nowadays, yes.”

“Then with a few conditions, I’ll accept.” Ryou tried to take a breath, but the shadow magic slithered down his throat like the humidity on a muggy summer day.

“You’re not in much of a position to be making caveats.” Still, the demon didn’t immediately banish him, listening.

“First, you’ll guarantee I’ll survive birth, and second, you’ll give me an appropriate entrance and organs so it doesn’t have to burst out of my chest.” He paused. “You’ll also send Mariku back not-dead, and without any diseases or deadly injuries that mean he’ll die soon. He comes back whole or not at all. And you don’t get to take him back when the baby is born.”

The demon laughed. “You have flair! Fine, I shall accept your conditions. I couldn't care less what happens to him, honestly. Now that the dark one has been banished, I can rescue your precious lover. The moment he is in your arms, you will be with child, my child, and from conception to delivery, you will not die or be gravely injured. It would do me no good to kill you, after all. Deal?”

Ryou swallowed, holding out a hand that the demon took. “Deal.”

xxxx

Ryou had been sitting on the couch and trying not to think of everything that could go wrong when Mariku was dumped unceremoniously on his lap. The second they touched, he felt a twinge in his gut, and a searing fire moments later, accompanied by what felt like the area between his legs being ripped open. He couldn’t even see the look on Mariku’s face as he doubled over, hissing through his teeth.

Pain. He should have asked it to not be painful.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Mariku’s voice wasn’t full of bravado, stripped raw. “Is that- Ryou, is that you?” He leaned forward to touch the soft face currently dripping with sweat, fingers running down pale skin like it was the most precious silk in the world. “Did I die?”

“N-no.” Ryou choked out, the stabbing agony starting to recede, before a concentrated pinprick of boiling lava in his lower stomach forced another gasp out of him. “I brought you back.”

Mariku’s hand stilled. “You brought me back?”

For the first time, Ryou realized what a state the other was in- his hair was so matted down from unwash and blood that he looked more like Malik than ever. His clothes were torn and filthy, and bruises decorated his skin. But most of all, his eyes were deep and haunted, more like a child that had seen a pile of rotted corpses than the monster everyone had known during Battle City.

He knew instantly that he’d made the right choice before passing out into Mariku’s arms.

xxxx

Ryou woke up still on the couch, with an assortment of jackets and sweaters strewn loosely over his body. Mariku was on the other end, bouncing a leg and biting his nails down enough his fingers were bleeding. Ryou wasn’t hurting anymore, at least.

“Hey.” He pushed himself up, and Mariku whirled around.

“You’re not- what the fuck happened?” Anger and fear slipped together like a molotov cocktail as he grabbed Ryou’s collar, a raincoat sliding off with a swishing sound.

“I…” Ryou was dizzy with the weight of what was sinking in as reality. “I made a deal, to get you back.”

“If you were fucking around with Zorc, Ryou, I will strangle you.” His concern slipped through the furious words.

“Zorc’s gone. The pharaoh banished him. Besides, I wouldn’t make a deal with him.” Ryou almost spat the last word out. “It was a lesser demon.”

“What did you give up, then? For… me?” The grip on his collar loosened slightly. “Don’t say you bet yourself.”

“They wanted… a surrogate.” Ryou said slowly.

Mariku’s face twisted, this time with confusion. “A what?”

“Someone to carry a baby for them. I don’t think they can reproduce on their own, or at least, not reliably.”

“Oh.” Mariku’s amethyst eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ryou set a hand on his stomach- it was thin now, but he had no doubt in the coming months it would swell. “Oh. But I didn’t want you dying there, no one deserves that, and you should get another chance at- “

Mariku lunged at him and wrapped him up in quite possibly the tightest hug Ryou had felt in his life.

“I don’t deserve this.” It was choked through the beginning of a sob, and Ryou set a hand on his back. Even being as gentle as he could, it caused a wince of pain that Mariku tried to shove back, and Ryou took a deep breath.

He could do this. He’d have regretted it for the rest of his life if he hadn’t.

Now he just had to make it to delivery and they’d be fine. He’d ask for happily ever after, but right now, he’d be content with just… living.

xxxx

Ryou had work, but he’d summoned Mariku back during winter break, and he usually worked from home anyway, so they had time to grow re-acquainted. The first few days had been interesting, in which Mariku had torn apart practically his entire fridge- it was his first food in over two years, after all. Ryou had never been able to do more than communicate, and the occasional burnt offering hadn’t reached him. Ryou had gotten him some new clothes, but he often layered odd combinations, like a hoodie under one of Ryou’s old trench coats. Ryou thought it was endearing, honestly- he was learning to be human.

He also insisted on sharing a bed with Ryou, even though they’d done nothing more than cuddle with the occasional kiss on the cheek or forehead.

It took two weeks for the morning sickness to kick in. He was making coffee when his stomach violently protested and he scrambled for the trash, acidic bile stinging his throat and lips as it came up. He tried to pull back his hair with one hand, the other trembling as it clutched the plastic bag inside the can. All the sites he’d looked at had said that usually morning sickness and the like didn’t happen until a month in.

He took a long shower that day.

xxxx

By the end of the first month, Ryou started running his fingers over his stomach whenever he wasn’t doing something that required both hands. He knew the child was in there- Mariku was sitting on the couch to prove it- but he wouldn’t see anything for another month and a half, at least.

He curled up on his computer chair, pulling his legs up. Mariku was drawing. When he drew, it was usually monsters he’d seen in the shadows- a coping mechanism, no doubt. It took him a few minutes to notice Ryou’s typing sounds had stopped.

“Did you die?” It was a question he asked frequently, his equivalent to ‘are you all right’, Ryou figured.

“ ‘m fine.” Ryou murmured. “Tired.”

“Normal tired?”

“I’unno.” Ryou pressed his chin into his knees. “It’s… too early to tell if it’s the baby or not.” He knew he shouldn’t call it that. He shouldn’t get attached, because he wasn’t going to keep it.

“I still can’t believe you’re willing to go through that for me.” His filter was nonexistent, a fact Ryou appreciated. He didn’t have to worry something went unspoken when Mariku blurted out anything that came to mind.

“And I don’t regret it.” Ryou slid off the chair, then sunk into the couch, resting his head on Mariku’s lap once Mariku shoved the drawing supplies off of it. “I’d have done anything short of trading myself, and that’s only because then I’d never be able to see you.”

Mariku ran a hand through Ryou’s hair, tugging too hard a few times, but eventually combing it to smooth. “I can’t believe we ever just called you the host. You’re so much more than that.”

Ryou blinked. It wasn’t often Mariku referred to Malik, even if it was in the plural involving them both. He smiled softly. “I really am a host now, though.”

Mariku rolled his eyes.

xxxx

Ryou hated the mood swings. He found himself sobbing when he dropped a mug full of tea, even though he’d been meaning to get rid of that cracked one anyways. He snapped at the mailman for coming ten minutes late, then realized what he was saying and fumbled over an apology. He felt nauseous almost constantly, and had moved a trash can into every room to save his poor carpet.

That was on top of the fact that he felt tired all the time. He took naps during the day, but it didn’t help the omnipresence of dark bags under his eyes and constant yawns.

Mariku was starting to get worried.

“This isn’t killing you, is it?”

Ryou shook his head, curling up with a blanket. “No, they… they promised I wouldn’t die. That was one of my conditions, and they can’t back out of something that explicit. Could kill me after…” He yawned. “After delivery, I suppose, but what would the point of that be? They’ll have their baby, I won’t matter anymore.”

Mariku grabbed Ryou’s hand, squeezing it. “If they try, I’ll rip their eyes out.”

Ryou smiled weakly, grimacing as a cramp hit him. “I’d like to see that.”

xxxx

At a month and a half, Ryou started bringing home more fast food. Mariku eagerly dove into it- Malik had always avoided grease, but he loved it. Ryou liked seeing Mariku eating happily, but honestly, he bought it because felt like he’d die if he didn’t have the grease and sugar. He could nibble on a carrot now and then, but anything solely healthy had gone the way of coffee in that it made his nausea worse.

He had no idea if it was healthy for the baby, probably not, but maybe demon babies didn’t need carrots and were making sure he knew that.

After almost a week straight of nothing but takeout, Ryou noticed a small layer of pudge around his middle. Great.

xxxx

It was hard to tell with the slight weight he’d gained, but Ryou swore he finally felt something hard under his hand when he pressed down at the end of two months. It was tiny, but it was there. His stomach cramped up, but when he gagged, nothing came up.

Oh. Right. He’d already thrown up everything he’d eaten that day about an hour earlier.

He hoped the demon didn’t operate on a human timeframe, because he wasn’t looking forward to another seven months of this.

xxxx

At two months and two weeks, Ryou was officially showing, even though it wasn’t obvious unless he had his shirt off. He’d started leaving his jeans unbuttoned or just wearing sweatpants, the swell against tight fabric uncomfortable. He was glad he worked designing games and writing campaigns from home, because he’d started feeling irritated by anything and everything. He snarled at Mariku for leaving a half-empty glass of juice in the fridge, and for dropping a sharpie Ryou had been using.

Neither had gone over well, both escalating into the both of them shouting until Ryou turned white and started retching into the trash can, and they both realized he wasn’t actually mad, just having a swing.

Ryou had started sticking a note on his shirt that said ‘I’m not actually mad at you, it’s the hormones’ and Mariku plucked it off and waved it at him when he got too pissy.

xxxx

They kissed on the lips after a marathon of b-list horror movies that made both of them laugh. It would have been hard to take them seriously anyways, but once you’d been through hell and come back swinging, they were a lot funnier. Ryou had been rambling off trivia about the special effects when Mariku had brushed his hand against Ryou’s cheek and asked if he could kiss him.

Ryou had replied by pressing their lips together, tasting popcorn butter and soda chapstick. When he pressed himself closer, he could feel the bump resting between them and tried to think of it as proof this was real.

xxxx

Ryou woke with a splitting headache at the day after three months. He filled and drank down a glass of water about six times, but his head still buzzed like there were bees inside of it. He knew he’d have to buy new clothes soon, most of what he had, while not form-fitting, wasn’t exactly loose, and besides-

Something moved.

He practically tore his shirt off, and Mariku grumbled at the movement, before seeing the look on Ryou’s face.

“What is it?”

“It’s moving.” Ryou’s voice was awed. “It’s not supposed to for another two weeks at least.”

“Nothing is normal about us, or that.” Mariku set a hand against Ryou’s stomach and frowned. “It’s hot.”

“Mmm?” Ryou gingerly prodded his belly, and realized Mariku was right. He could feel the heat starting to trickle up his spine. “Demon baby, remember? I should probably start expecting things to start going strange soon. For all I know, it’ll be more than nine months. I hope not, though.” He took a slow, deep breath.

Mariku’s fingers curled up on Ryou’s skin, and he locked eyes with him. “I’ll be with you. Even if it eats through your insides and tries to attack me.”

Ryou laughed. “My brave knight!”

Mariku leaned in for a kiss and it squirmed around again and this time, Ryou found he almost liked the sensation.

xxxx

Ryou was really glad he worked from home now, because even just walking the train to go to the store and back was starting to wind him. He could still hide the 15-week-old bump fairly easily under a few layers, but his back was killing him if he wasn’t back in his comfy chair within an hour. Mariku accompanied him to carry the heavier items. Ryou was glad that other from the occasional snarl at someone for cutting in line or trying to flirt with Ryou, he behaved. He loved trying new things, be they smoothie samples or riding in a train. Everything was new to him- even things that Malik had experienced. If it happened after they were split at age ten, it was fuzzy, through a haze of fog.

If Ryou felt like crying from a particularly bad cramp or itching at his skin from the inside, he just had to pull out the picture of Mariku sitting in a field of dandelions and sticking his tongue out slightly, trying to make them into a very sticky flower crown.

Six more months.

xxxx

Things started going sideways at 20 weeks.

Ryou had begun sleeping on his side, the bump too big to sleep on his front and the baby weighing down his bladder if he slept on his back.

“Hrrk…” Unfortunately, the nausea hadn’t gone away, so he always kept a garbage can right next to the bed, but this morning, he tasted something distinctly metallic mixed in with the bile.

When he flicked the light on, the typical yellowish-brown of sickness was red with blood and almost bubbling. He gagged again, before tying the bag off and throwing it out.

On the other side of the bed, Mariku turned over, eyes squeezed shut as he whined in his sleep about the loss of his living pillow, and Ryou washed out his mouth before crawling back into bed, warm belly between them.

xxxx

The next day, Ryou was cooking when a flash of heat struck him like he’d been shoved in a fire, and he dropped the spoon directly into the pan, gritting his teeth. Sweat dripped down his skin, and he gripped the counter.

“Are you- you’re all right, aren’t you?” Mariku was by his side in an instant- or at least it seemed like it. Maybe it had been a few minutes. Time wasn’t working right.

“I’m… fine.” Ryou mumbled, hand dropping to his stomach. Other than a few pounds of extra padding, it was starting to be obvious to any outside observer that what was settled in his body wasn’t just fat.

“You… don’t sound fine.” Mariku said, wrapping his arms loosely around Ryou. “It’s hurting you, isn’t it?”

Ryou bit his lip- the contact felt like ice and lava at once. “I can handle it.”

“You… you know you don’t have to.”

“I’m never sending you back.” Ryou said firmly, and Mariku pulled away. As soon as his arms were gone, Ryou missed them.

xxxx

Ryou wanted to tear his hair out more than once by the end of the week. His energy rose and dropped like a roller coaster- one minute, he wanted to redecorate the living room and cook enough food to last a year, the next he felt like a remote running on a four-year-old battery, barely able to even sit up. It didn’t help that the hot flashes were starting to occur daily, leaving him stripped down to just his boxers most days.

And of course that meant he saw it very clearly every time he looked down. He’d been so skinny before, it was jarring seeing his stomach almost blocking his toes. Pink lines dripped down his pale skin like paint, and it was moving a lot more now.

It didn’t help that it had already developed something sharp (claws or teeth, he didn’t know) and bruises dotted his belly.

Mariku offered him hugs and kisses belly rubs, but Ryou could see that he felt sick knowing that the only reason Ryou had to go through this was because of him, so Ryou usually turned him down on anything longer than a kiss, unless he felt really weak.

He could deal with it. He’d been host to the concentrated essence of the lord of darkness, he could handle a few kicks.

xxxx

Ryou hissed, curling his arms around his stomach. He’d been half-living off fast food during most of the pregnancy, but his stomach was starting to adamantly reject it. That would have been fine, but nothing else he ate- salads, pasta, veggies- settled properly either, leaving him perpetually starving. He swore his cheeks looked sunken in when he glanced in the mirror. The weight he'd gained was gone, leaving him feeling hollow everywhere but his middle.

His stomach growled on the way home from the store one day, and he sniffed the air. Something smelled good, for the first time in weeks, and he followed it to see a dead mouse laying belly-up in the alley behind his apartment.

He stared. It was surrounded by bits of chocolate- most likely someone had thrown a large bag of candy away and it had gorged itself to death.

His mind resisted but his stomach overrode it and he picked up the mouse, walked inside, washed it off, and shoved it in his mouth whole. He bit down only on the tail, and the blood tasted good.

Blood tasted good.

He was 23 weeks. More than halfway there, hopefully.

He just needed to stay sane.

xxxx

None of his clothes fit properly. Even his pants were too tight- his hips and butt had gained just enough weight he couldn’t comfortably wear even sweatpants anywhere but home, so he resigned himself to buying two sizes larger of everything, knowing the growing wasn’t done.

He had to take laps around the apartment at least twice a day or everything felt swollen. He’d started bringing home steak, and only cooked it for ten minutes, far under safe levels, before tearing into it, body craving the near-raw meat as well as plain bread and raw sugar.

His body was going to hate him when this was all over.

xxxx

One side effect that he hasn’t expected was an increase in his libido. He’d managed just fine with toys before Mariku had come back, but he’d set a rule that they couldn’t touch below the waist until the pregnancy was over in case it would hurt the baby and undo the deal. Unfortunately, since Mariku didn’t usually leave the apartment except with Ryou and his belly was big enough now that it was difficult to handle on his own, he’d taken to humping pillows once Mariku had gone to bed, thoughts of the other’s strong arms and beautiful face pushing him to the limit. He didn’t know if Mariku assumed that pillows needed to be cleaned a lot or just didn’t want to bring it up.

Ryou was going to jump him the second this was all over.

xxxx

30 weeks and his stomach felt like it had a lead weight inside of it most of the time. He had started piling pillows on the seat and back of his computer chair, but work was hard to focus on with a squirming weight constantly kicking and clawing at him. It made it difficult to sleep, and he was pretty sure the bags under his eyes were big enough to be classified as sentient entities.

Mariku only seemed to get more worried. “This is killing you. I can see your cheekbones.” He stroked a hand down Ryou’s face, fingers tracing over the alarming lack of fat on his cheeks. “It’s sucking the life out of you.”

“It can’t kill me.” Ryou said, trying to sound more confident than he felt as both hands cradled his swollen stomach. “That was part of the deal.” At a particularly harsh jab, he lifted his arm to see a bruise blooming next to his belly button. “Oh, you hush.”

“It doesn't mean you won't die of malnutrition twenty minutes after birth. You need to eat more.”

“Mariku, I’m already eating twice as much as I used to, and then some.”

“Bullshit. You didn’t eat anything today besides half a pound of hamburger and a bag of carrot sticks.”

“Demon babies lead to weird cravings. You didn't see the protein bars I had for breakfast..” Ryou stifled a burp, the ghost of the meat he’d had for lunch coming back up.

“You’re never in bed, and you never stop moving when you are.”

“You try sleeping with a stomach the size of a minivan strapped to your midsection.” Ryou tried to laugh, but his lungs didn’t quite seem able to pull in enough air.

“I’d rather go back than see you kill yourself for me.” He grabbed Ryou’s wrists, watching as Ryou froze.

“Don’t… don’t say that.”

“It’s true. I hate seeing you dying just for my sake. I love it here, you know that, I love ice cream and fresh grass and the way you look when something really cheesy happens in a horror movie, but I’d give it up to know that you were all right.” He set a hand on top of Ryou’s belly. “Promise me that if it ever is too much, you’ll find some way to cancel the deal.”

He could feel blood bubble under his skin as he was clawed from the inside. He nodded.

“Promise.”

He was good at lying.

xxxx

32 weeks and he’d stopped cooking altogether. His cravings were either for takeout or raw meat, and he’d started sending Mariku to the store by himself, not wanting to leave the apartment. He felt like a tense violin string, tightened too much.

All of his shirts were pretty much crop tops now, and stretchmarks decorated his belly, digging into the skin.

He was lucky that he mostly communicated with his friends through texting or they would have checked him into the hospital by now. He waddled more than he walked, and often leaned on the furniture, getting winded easily.

He couldn’t deny it anymore- it was draining him. More than just his energy and scraps of magic, his arms and legs both seemed thinner than they had before. The pregnancy sites he’d looked at said he should be gaining weight, but the growing number on the scale he had to use his phone to look at could only be attributed to the growth around his middle. Maybe he’d get lucky and it would want out early, but he doubted that.

xxxx

He’d collapsed while walking around the apartment twice, and Mariku had tucked him into bed so tightly it was like a straightjacket of blankets. 34 weeks and he felt more like an incubator over a person than ever, sweat matting his long hair to his face and neck. He was starving all the time, and if they didn’t keep enough food in the room, he ended up chewing on whatever was nearby, which in one case- that would have been funny in any other context- was a candle. It wanted food, and if he didn't give in to it, it not only drove him to feel complete starvation, but started gnawing on Ryou's body itself, causing some of the worst pain of this whole ordeal.

He curled around his belly, only the top of his knees not touching it, and hugged a stuffed Malice Doll of Demise Yugi had given him as a birthday present ages ago. The thing had grown so large that every movement scraped inside of his skin, and he sobbed into the doll when Mariku was in the shower.

xxxx

At 35 weeks, he broke. He’d been trying to eat a box of candy when his stomach turned over and he gagged into the trash can. A soothing hand rubbing on his back, combined with the heat spreading up his chest and pooling in his belly, was too much. He choked out a sob.

“Ryou?” Mariku’s eyes widened as Ryou buried his face in his chest, unable to fully hug him with his parasite-filled stomach in the way.

“It hur-hurts…” He sobbed, sure that Mariku could feel the movements. “I… I know I can do this, b-but…”

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay…” Mariku’s tone switched from soothing to heavy with fury. “As soon as they come to collect the thing, I’m ripping their heads off.”

“No, they’ll… they’ll send you back.” Ryou gripped desperately at the other’s shirt. “I’m going through all this shit for you, you… you better appreciate it.” He gritted his teeth at another writhing scratch. “Any bigger and it’ll rip me… it'll rip me open. It’s got to come out soon.”

“It damn well better.” Mariku pressed a kiss to Ryou’s lips. “You brought me back to this world, and I don’t want to live in it without you.”

xxxx

His water broke at the end of 36 weeks when he was snuggled up with a blanket on the couch. The movements had grown so bad that he didn’t even notice contractions starting for the first few hours, hadn’t told Mariku to stay home. They’d gotten low on food, so Mariku sworn he’d only be gone an hour.

As soon as the pain started proper, Ryou didn’t know how he’d missed it. His hips were being slammed with jackhammers and he arched up, biting into a pillow to fight back a scream. If he started screaming, he’d never stop. He tugged at his shorts, legs already starting to cramp up, and dropped them on the ground, curling up.

Breathe. Breathe. Try and spread his legs. The contractions were harsh but had about ten minutes between them. He regretted not giving Mariku a phone, now at the whim of when he’d return with the damn groceries, and Ryou hugged the pillow like it was a lifeline.

By the time the door creaked open, forty-five minutes after the water broke, his face was smeared with tears and dark fluid was leaking unto the couch cushions. He couldn’t tell if it was blood or just something that resembled it, and at this point he didn’t care.

Mariku dropped the bags, rushing forward. “Oh shit, oh shit, it’s time already?” Ryou nodded mutely, hugging the pillow tighter as another contraction shot through him, and a pained whine hissed past his lips. “Okay, fuck, just… try and breathe.”

They’d agreed no hospitals. The demon was probably coming to get the thing as soon as it was born, and they’d have more questions to answer than either was ready to deal with. Still, Ryou sorely wished they’d been able to do more than just look up ‘what should happen during birth’ on the internet. Mariku looked down between his legs, and gently pressed at the widening entrance. Ryou grunted. “Dun’ touch it.”

“It looks pretty well spread, you should… probably start pushing.”

“I just want it ou-ghhhh!” Ryou squeezed his eyes shut, the urge to push down strong enough that he obeyed, pressure shoving downwards as he started feeling movement.

“That’s it, just… just keep doing that.” Mariku had one hand on his knee and the other one his opposite thigh and Ryou tried to focus on his worried face instead of the agony currently ripping his stomach and hips apart. He really hoped the demon had widened his hips enough for a somewhat non-agonizing birth, but from the way they felt like someone was knocking mallets on the inside of the bone, he doubted it.

Another contraction and he gasped, feeling the movements shift sharply and start moving downwards, bit by bit.

Mariku offered his hand and Ryou gripped it so tightly that he ended up carving crescents into skin, blood oozing around his fingers. He tried to breathe evenly, but his head spun, his stomach twisted, and his vision swirled with both pain and sweat dripping down his forehead. The contractions shortened to only a few minutes between them and he pushed at every one, but progress was slow, sometimes even stopping entirely.

The clock ticked an hour, then two. Mariku had moved back down to Ryou’s legs, trying to watch progress, as Ryou was starting to feel like a ragdoll stuffed with dead batteries.

“The head’s starting to come out!”

Ryou gritted his teeth and forced his last dregs of energy into continuing to push, feeling the thing starting to slide through his entrance. “Ffffffuck!”

“The head’s almost out, one more push- damn, this thing has little horns- just keep going!” Mariku encouraged. “You’re almost done with the hard part!”

“Easy for you to say!” Ryou snapped, nerves a fried electrical outlet. He groaned, giving a hard internal shove, and heard a sickening, slimy ‘pop!’ as the head was fully pushed out. He hissed as Mariku brushed the lips of his entrance as he started gently brushing the baby off.

“One more push and that’s all of it.”

Ryou took a long breath, bracing himself for the next contraction and gripping the ruined fabric of his pillow that he’d ripped up during the process. When it rocked through him, he bore down and gasped in relief as he could feel the rest of the body exit.

Mariku immediately set the thing down and brushed hands covered in birthing fluid and blood across Ryou’s face. “You’re still alive. Please say you’re-“

“I’m alive.” Ryou coughed, but smiled weakly, swaying. Mariku pulled him into a hug, but he gasped, stomach still very sore, and Mariku pulled back with stumbled apologies. Ryou felt one last contraction and gasped, pushing again, before feeling something slick slide out- the placenta, most likely.

There was a wailing noise, and Mariku scooted back down to look at the thing. It gripped up at nothing with dark eyes and clawed hands, and when its tail swayed through the air, Mariku’s thumb was cut by the sharp end. He winced. “I can’t imagine having to carry that thing.”

“Guess I am the…” Ryou swallowed, breathing still not quite coming in right, “The strong one, then.”

A cloud of smoke swirled into existence, and Mariku gripped Ryou’s shoulders protectively as they were faced with the demon that had made the deal.

“Oh, aren’t they precious?” It picked up its spawn, cooing. “You did well. Some of the hosts die from shock afterwards.”

Mariku growled. “Never touch him again.”

“Oh, I never touched him in the first place. Magic insemination makes it nice and easy if you’re not an incubus, you know. Less messy.” He turned to face Ryou, who was currently trying to muster up the energy to glare but not really making it. “As for you, don’t worry. I don’t care about you enough to enact some cherry-on-top trick like some demons might. I’ll even give you a present- you can keep the organs, if you ever want to have something with your sweetheart there.”

Ryou gritted his teeth. “Thank you.” His body was wet cement and he wanted to sleep for a year.

The demon gave a finger-waggling wave before disappearing, leaving scorch marks on the carpet. True to its word, the fire that had accompanied the ‘gift’ of birthing organs didn’t appear again. Ryou couldn’t summon up the energy to care. His hips hurt, his stomach hurt, his very existence was a rubbed-sore bruise, and when Mariku gingerly picked him up to carry him to bed, he nuzzled into the scarred chest and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

#mpreg #demon pregnancy #monster pregnancy #mpreg fic #pregnancy fic #pregnancy kink #I guess trying to cover my bases #ygo/#shadow writes stuff

105 notes · View notes

theclaravoyant · 7 years ago

Note

I may be late to the party but "You forgot to pay the electricity bill and now our lights just went off. What now?" for fitzskimmons if you've still got left over free time to fill lol

AN ~ anything for you! :D this one goes out to anyone doing finals r/n i know that feel. shoutout to that time I had a breakdown bc there was no meat in my sandwich whoot. I hope everything goes well and I wish you all the mental equivalent of a soothing bath when you need it most.

in the meantime, there’s fitzskimmons (with extra skimmons)! this is a little hurt/comfort, arguably mild angst w/ happy ending, rated G/T, I hope you like it!

Read on AO3 (~1300wd)

“OHHHH! HEY!”

“NO, YOU CAN’T-“

“SSHH! Shh, shh-“

“You’re right, shh,”

Jemma rolled her eyes at Fitz and Daisy’s shushing from the other room. They’d recently acquired a new videogame and had agreed to play it quietly, since Jemma was still studying, but it wasn’t really working out. Jemma could hardly blame them, she supposed, even as she bit her lip and turned her music up a little to drown them out. Even she was getting to that point in semester where she’d rather hang upside down off the back of the couch and join in with their shoot-em-up antics. And she loved homework – so they said – “more than life itself.”

All of a sudden though, the universe had apparently decided this was one too many slips in their promise. The lights went out and the music went silent, and suddenly Jemma’s highlighter was the brightest thing in the room. Even the clock was out. The only other light came from her phone – alerting her that it had been taken off charge – and the little corner of glow-in-the-dark space stickers above their bed that Daisy had put there once, for fun. They spoke to a whimsy and self-assurance that Jemma usually loved about her…

Just not when it came with this level of forgetfulness.

Jemma ground her teeth together, and tried not to throw open the bedroom door too hard as she stalked back into the lounge.

“What was that?” she demanded icily, glad the others could not see her expression properly. She was way too stressed out and exhausted to think about this rationally.

“Power’s down,” Fitz said. “Did you have the kettle and the microwave on at the same time again?”

“In the bedroom?” Jemma challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Then Daisy raised a hand.

“Uh, guys, I think this is my bad,” she confessed. “I may have forgotten to pay the electricity bill. Well, I mean, I didn’t forget. I was sort of in a standoff with the building manager about the laundry situation and I said I wouldn’t pay our electricity or our water til it was fixed because it’s in our tenancy rights but –“

“Is it?!” Jemma challenged. “Is it in our tenancy rights? Well that’s fantastic. Is there a bloody great candle in there too? Hmm? Perhaps some glow sticks?”

“Jem, come on.” Daisy held up her hands in surrender, trying to step lightly. “You were mad about it too.”

“I still am!” Jemma jabbed a finger back at where her study notes were waiting – “but I have exams to do. Did you have to take this stand now of all times? It’s finals, Daisy! I need power! I need my computer! I need light! How could you be so inconsiderate? Or were you just so thick-headed that you didn’t see this coming?!”

“HEY!” Fitz stepped forward, putting himself between them. “That’s uncalled for, Jemma. Come on.”

“You’re taking her side?” Jemma glared, tears in her eyes. “You know how important this is to me!”

“I just think you need to calm down, that’s all. Daisy made a mistake, but –“

“But I’m being ridiculous. Okay. It’s only my whole future resting on these results. But okay. I’m going downstairs.”

Wiping her eyes, Jemma stormed back into her room, swept her belongings into a bag, and stormed back out again, right past Fitz and Daisy and out the door.

Once Jemma was gone, Daisy sunk back onto the couch and checked her own eyes for tears.

“She’s right, I’m being stupid,” she sniffled, digging for her phone in the pile of clothes and food packets that had built up around them. “I’ll call the landlord and sort this out right now. Just pay the damn thing.”

“I don’t think you should do that,” Fitz advised, taking her hands gently in his to stop her fretting. “Otherwise when are we going to fight this? Christmas? New Year? Then we’ll all be back to school and it’ll start again. Stick to your guns, Daisy! Or are you going to give up your principles for a girl, hm?”

He nudged her playfully, and the tiniest of smiles cracked through the fear and onto her face.

“There she is,” Fitz encouraged. ��Come on, you know Jemma would be right alongside you on this crusade any other day. She’s just stressed out of her brain right now. And you know she has these exams in the bag. She’ll be fine. And a new washing machine won’t shrink her sweaters, so she’ll thank you in the end, right?”

Daisy sighed.

“I guess you’re right,” she agreed, and with renewed vigour, tossed the phone back onto the pile of mess on the couch. “Screw that guy, it’s Jemma we’ve got to worry about. And I’ve got an idea.”

“Jemma. Jemma.”

“Mm?”

Jemma jolted awake to the feeling of someone tapping her elbow. She dragged her face up off the table and blinked, bleary-eyed, surprised to find herself in the internet café around the corner, with Daisy in her face and Fitz standing at the end of the table, looking on with concern. She was not sure how much time had passed since she’d left. Was it morning already? Or was her tea still warm?

“What ‘re you doing here?” she mumbled.

“We’re here to bring you home,” Daisy promised. “I’m sorry about the blackout, but I think we’ve reached a compromise you’ll appreciate.”

Jemma nodded, feeling too tired for words like compromise and appreciate, and preferring to all but flop into Fitz’s arms where he waited, as Daisy wilfully entangled herself in all of Jemma’s belongings (“how did you get all this down here?!”). Her brain was full of white noise as they made their way back to the apartment, but by the time they stepped over the threshold, Jemma was starting to remember why she was mad. It didn’t feel as visceral anymore – she felt burnt out, and she was still drop-dead tired – but she clenched her teeth together. Whatever Daisy had, she thought warningly, had better be good.

Fortunately, it was.

“Now, admittedly, I didn’t do this all myself,” Daisy confessed. “But Fitz has rigged up this place with a generator, so the fridge, kettle, and the odd charger should be working. Your laptop battery is supercharged, and… I found a couple candles.”

Daisy led the way and Fitz walked Jemma into the kitchen, where candles were clustered near the chargers and keys; the sink; the kettle; the fridge. The lounge and coffee table had been cleared of clothes, and rubbish, and other junk, and dotted here and there with candles too. As Daisy led her and Fitz down the hall, Jemma even spotted candles in their bedroom, but Daisy kept going all the way to the bathroom, where a warm and rosy scent floated out to meet her. Daisy smiled apologetically, and pushed the door open, gesturing for Jemma to continue inside.

“Daisy,” Jemma whispered, her eyes trailing the display of candles that danced around the room. There were a couple of new glow-in-the-dark stars in the corner of the mirror. She smiled. “What is this?”

“I’m sorry I was inconsiderate with my timing, and that our landlord’s a dick. And I’m sorry that you’re so stressed out. Fitz and I will shut our faces - for real this time – so you can take the night off, okay? We love you. I love you.”

Jemma nodded, tearing up. “Love you too, Daisy. Sorry I called you thick-headed. You should know, your stubbornness is one of your best qualities.”

“Yeah, well,” Daisy scoffed. “Enjoy that warm bath while it lasts, ‘cause our water bill’s on final notice too. Loveyoubye.”

Blowing her a kiss, Daisy ducked out the door and shut it behind her. Jemma opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came to mind. At this point, she was not even sure she followed what was going on. What she did know was that her body seemed to be climbing into a warm, lovingly prepared bath of its own accord, and she was hardly one to argue with that.

#fitzskimmons #ot3: fitzskimmons #prompt me stuff #aospositivitynet #aosficnet2 #clara's fic tag #buskidsburgade #polyamory

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toongrrl-blog · 5 years ago

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The Mommy Myth: Attack of the Celebrity Moms

Gonna try and structure it a lil’ bit different, hit it!

Debby Boone

January 1981, Ronald Reagan was inaugurated as president and Debby Boone, 1978 Grammy winner, poses with her three month old child for the cover of Good Housekeeping. Like her father who has oozed his brand of sanitized rock ‘n’ roll (as not to freak out white parents and grandparents), Debby has become a pioneer: the celebrity mom profile. Inside the issue we learned that baby Jordan eats very well and sleeps 8 hours a night (good) and he is healthy because Debby took SUPER GOOD CARE OF HER BODY during her pregnancy as she ate health food and weighed only a pound less than before she was pregnant (okay Deb), mostly due to healthy food and prayer (news to the church ladies my Mom knows), this was a surprise (okay), and baby Jordan loves music because his grandfather Pat Boone and great-grandfather Red Foley were musicians (well most babies like music and noise). The celebrity mom profile where she reminds the female reader that she is a poised, trim, stylish, perfect mother unlike you the mom who stresses over tax season, is a household drudge, and eats junk food when the kids are asleep.

Kirstie Alley

February 1994, Kirstie Alley (remember Cheers, Fat Actress, It Takes Two, and Look Who’s Talking?) invites In Style magazine into her fourth house in Bangor, Maine that she paid in with cash, a house that is like her: “at once down-to-earth and whimsical”. She’s a mom now with a “playful sense of style” that is evident by the decoupage grapes on her son’s highchair and was made to look antique and worn. One year old True (that’s his name!) has his highchair facing a ceramic pig holding a blackboard on which a new word appears to encourage his reading proficiency (never too early to start teaching kids to read!) We see Kirstie’s life is made easy with decorators, nanny, a cook, and personal assistants and True having two hour nap times (I will check with relatives of young babies and toddlers to see if possible) where Kirstie works out with a personal trainer and eats a fat-free lunch (well we know what happens when you diet for so long). Kirstie gushes about how “being a mother has given me a whole new purpose. Every day when I wake up it’s like Christmas morning to me, and seeing life through True’s eyes gives me a whole new way of looking at the world” (yeah I don’t know anyone who actually feels that way and what about those who found a purpose without having kids? Sorry charity volunteers and recovering alcoholics!)

Flash forward to 1997 where Kirstie is star of the then-new Veronica’s Closet where she has a new man, new show, and a new baby. We learn her Maine home has fifteen bedrooms and she loves decorating this huge place, which includes a nursery-rhyme garden for True and baby Lillie. Kirstie talks about this facial treatment she has every morning where she blasts her face with oxygen and enzymes with a plastic hose hooked up to two pressurized tanks (guess Joan Crawford’s beauty regimen wasn’t hardcore enough?).

Annie Potts

I admit there could be some bias here, I grew up on Annie Potts (Ghostbusters, Designing Women, Any Day Now, Pretty In Pink, GCB, Toy Story) so that might color my commentary (though I try to keep a bit of Susan J. and Meredith here). In California, we enter Annie Potts’s “Casa de Mayhem” (actually really cute, nice to see she nice great decorating sense outside of Iona’s fabulous digs) where her nanny corrals Potts’s 16 month old where a wing was built in the anticipation of the baby Jake’s birth (how?), where there is a darkroom for her husband, a bedroom for the assistant (late night slumbers?), and an office for Potts and also a pool. Somehow her white furniture remains immaculate (just like Megan Draper’s white carpet). Annie Potts believes that her son may be the reincarnation of her cat Gus and covers her chairs with cow-print vinyl.

Cheryl Ladd (Or a more Honest Time that was soon to be past)

During a different time Ladies Home Journal in March 1979 reported on Cheryl Ladd (Charlies Angels star and singer for Melody) as a mother where she admitted even with her household staff and her four year old with a nine year old’s vocabulary (by 1979 standards!) , it can be stressful which Goldie Hawn admitted to in smaller profile. Back then the celebrity moms were glamorous and embraced intensive mothering but they admitted it had it’s ups and downs, sentiments that were gone by the late 1980s where “motherhood was sexy” or “blessed”. Also the houses and toys became more lavish and the moms were always gushing with Whitney Houston stating she “never found anything more fulfilling than being a mother” (okay that makes me sad in hindsight, RIP Whitney and Bobbi Christina) and celeb moms saying they have transformed as people since having babies (babies are not reform school people nor life coaches). And was so awkward when Christie Brinkley said she got it right with her 3rd kid (no shade really, she was neat as Gayle Gergich).

In Celebrity Momma land there was no such thing as postpartum depression, saggy tits, leaky nipples, extra fat or economic, political, and social barriers or sexism, racism, and classism or even bratty kids or lazy or tired partners. They were (in the words of Michaels and Douglas) “June Cleaver with cleavage and a successful career”. They were allowed to bring the kid to work and they were always in love with their husbands....until not (these gushing profiles were the equivalent of that couple on Facebook with the perfect photos but argued a lot in real life). And while most of us bounce between the hip cynic and the corny romantic, we can see through it but still feel insecure by it.

Princess Diana (and the Rules of Celebrity Motherhood)

She was one of the most watched celebrity moms ever since her engagement to Prince Charles and even after the Royal Gyno certified her as a virgin and fertile in 1881...no I mean 1981 when she married him. Then in June 1982, William was born while she was around 20 years old. This girl clearly was picked by the Royal Family because she was young, pretty, not very assertive, fertile, and a virgin. He was her sister Lady Sarah’s ex-boyfriend and she thought he was hot since she was 16....keep in mind there is like a fourteen year age difference and she was a late teenager when they got engaged and married. The Press talked about his adoration for her and they had for a while the image of the picture-perfect family where nothing was wrong, she was naturally very thin and he thought she was the only woman in the world for him and wouldn’t want to be another woman’s tampon. Of course the cracks were obvi, early on, the Royal Family was all about projecting that image and Diana played along, being and playing devoted mom and she was, just she couldn’t be tired or want a lil space from the kids while the cameras were rolling. She even looked slim during her second (!) pregnancy! Which she timed perfectly. We now know that was a eating disorder. She had a ton of tasks on her schedule (charity) and often turned the kids over to a nanny but tried to give a normal life to her kids and expose them to people less privileged than they. Diana was a child of divorce, close to her younger brother, was depressed and bulimic, happened to marry a guy from a tradition bound family when she was starting to find herself, why does our culture encourage women to bound themselves to motherhood and marriage before they figured themselves out as people? And we know stuff about the Windsors as a family from The Crown.

1. “The mom is gorgeous, in clear control of her destiny, and her husband loves her even more once she becomes pregnant and the baby is born.”

2. “They are always radiantly happy when they are with their kids.” And the kids are always happy too, as it reflects well on the moms...

3. “They always look and feel fabulous--better than ever--while pregnant, because they are nutrition experts and eat exactly what they should and have the discipline to exercise regularly. No varicose veins, no dreaded ‘mask of pregnancy’, no total exhaustion, no unflattering comparisons to Weber barbecue kettles or Chris Farley. And they time their babies perfectly. Control, control, control.

4. “Whatever your schedule, whatever institutional constraints you confront that keep you away from or less involved with your kids, it must be clear that they are your number-one priority, not mater what.” Big thing when working moms were dealing with workplace rules making it hard to be there for their children and be on top at work.

5. “There must be some human frailties, some family tragedies, some struggles or foibles that bring the celeb down a peg, make her seem a bit more like us and allow some of us to identify with her.”

6. “The celebrity mom is fun-loving, eager to jump up and play with the kids at a moment’s notice. She’s always in the mood. She never says, ‘Not now honey. I don’t feel like it. Mummy’s tired. Mummy’s too lazy. Roller-coasters make Mummy barf.”

7. “...truly good, devoted mothering requires lavishing as many material goods on your kids as possible.” You even have to be lavish with the nursery.

Moms of Color

When the genre found it’s boom, Celebrity Moms were mostly white and straight (except for Rosie O’Donnell and the then-closeted Jodie Foster) and many writers and editors at women’s magazine said that white women don’t want to read about black women (crushing a soda can in my hand). Then women like Whitney Houston and Gloria Estefan started having kids and magazines like Ebony have done profiles like “The New Motherhood” and “The Joys of Being A Stay At Home Mom” where educated and employable black women became housewives (no statistics offered) and yes Ebony has always done that and spotlighted activists and their families. I also want to point out that the magazine has always been socially conscious, because Police Brutality and racism are still alive, with recently black celebrities posing with their sons as a statement against the police killings of young black people.

Now Susan J. Douglas and Meredith Michaels ask: should moms of color be glad to be celebrated with this lofty pedestal or be concerned about how fragile this pedestal is? I think Jodie Landon says it all.

Why all this matters

The Celebrity Mom profile presented a narrow view of motherhood not afforded to many ordinary mothers (whether you are of color or white, working class or middle class, have many kids or just one, are religious or spiritual or atheist, stay at home or part-time or salaried) cannot live up to. Celebrity Moms have existed for a long time but when the 1980s came, that is when motherhood practically became even more of a sport or a performance about how one can be the perfect supermom and make those who feel ambivalence feel like they are terrible mothers who ate too many junk food and were always tired, and had photos with no photoshop or personal trainers or stylists. In the Reagan era, being wealthy was chic: “trickle-down” economics, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, dramas about wealthy people, ads from Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren that breathed new life into the preppy look, Merchant Ivory films focusing on wealthy people in the old days and Mommie Dearest was a bestseller on the bookshelves and the theaters that made publicists very busy.

Also let’s talk about the beginnings of People magazine. In 1974, after market researchers for Time magazine noted that readers read the “People” section first before reading other parts of the magazine, Time-Life launched People magazine. Following was Us Weekly in 1977 and then the tabloids started doing more celebrity journalism, even local TV news magazines like Evening which gave way to Entertainment Tonight and then we heard the more serious news shows talking about celebs. Also while we were turning away from “experts” who were never moms or did diapers, we looked for role models as we needed to be role models and Celebrity moms were women who had lucrative and high-paying jobs and motherhood; they were also attractive role models as they suggested an alternative to being a frumpy or presentable-but-in-the-background or sexless has-been after having kids. Then women’s magazines started featuring more celebrities and they have before but now more so than ever. Redbook magazine, according to an anonymous employee who reported to Douglas and Michaels, said that the magazine conducted focus groups to see which celeb would sell the best: one year it was Kathie Lee Gifford, a few years later it was Meg Ryan, also headlines with words like “a tragedy” “triump” or “a secret” or a combo sold like hotcakes. This is not to suggest people working the magazines or the celebs keeping their brand were calculating cynics, just take things with a grain of salt...

What about Regular Moms?

Let’s give up for the Joan Holloways, Trudy Campbells, Betty Drapers, Karen Wheelers, Rochelle Rocks, Debbie Eagans, Tamme Dawsons, Peggy Olsons, Megan Drapers, and Joyce Byers of the world. Who while reading this piece of treacle, are dealing with unhelpful or tired or abusive husbands or having no husband, struggle with feedings and diaper changes, with loving their babies and missing their old lives, and with having a bit of weight after baby or had to fight it off and still find that things are very different. Who had their sleep disrupted after baby and spent a good chunk of their day in curlers. The Moms who felt sick, swollen, fat, gross, un-sexy during their pregnancies or even sans pregnancy, and never had that “glow”. Basically the moms doing all they can for their kids and have their own demons to exercise and are made to feel bad by their role models; some of them didn’t have role models (like their Moms don’t understand the context of their lives).

Celebrity Mom profiles bring up the same stereotypes that plagued women like Betty Draper and Karen Wheeler: that women are all nurturing and maternal, love all children, and prefer motherhood to anything even work and are the main responsible figures. Also add the competition from consumer culture of pitting moms against moms and encouraged self-loathing in women.

To ordinary mothers of America, those of us lacking the staff of a French chateau, and the joyful outlook that goes with it, these ceaseless profiles of celebrity moms with their perfect children and perfect lives are a rebuke, a snub, and a warning. Fail to get with the program and your kids will not make the grade, your husband won’t look at you the way he used to, and, worst of all, other mothers will see you for what you are: an unworthy loser, a bad mother.

To all the Women stuck with the Second Shift, homeschooling, keeping the home afloat along with their careers during this Pandemic, thank you. Shout out to the Lois Foutleys working the front lines while they deal with their families and to the Helen Morgendorffers who wish they were at work (really, don’t let any “having a child is more important than a career” people make you feel bad). And to the essential workers like Joyce.

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deborahcastellano · 7 years ago

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[Rules of Exile] Rule No. 2: Your Resources Are Limited, Plan Accordingly

Everything around me is dying.

Relationships, cats, young police officers.

Everything.

If I really start thinking about it, I won't get up again.

Cells, me, Jow, my mother, my other mother, my best friend.

Some are more eminent than others. Bellatrix Peepingston, our other cat, our Siamese if you don't please is going through kidney failure as we learned today. She has maybe a year, maybe longer. Maybe shorter. The young cop who had his funeral today half a block away from where I work, his wife seven months pregnant with their third, neither of them quite 30 yet. She gave his eulogy. He died on his way to work. Some guy threw his car over a divider and they both died instant. I think about how in the Middle Ages there was protocol for the death of a young beloved prince - the chief mourner, who walked behind who, the Londoners standing outside their shops crying for a man they never even knew. I saw that today, as we stood silently outside our big old rambling house where we work, the street lined with people, motorcycles, horses, grim faced female detectives--

The bomb squad.

When the hearse passed, I felt that overwhelming shock of grief that comes with a life snuffed out too soon. We stood together and apart, our eyes wet with tears.

Exile is painful sometimes, sisters. So painful. The skills you are required to have that you were never called upon to use in your previous life. If we were truly medieval queens in exile, it would be things like bargaining with fishmongers, learning encryption, making a budget, knowing when your brother is really going to try to kill you and/or your children and having a contingency plan for that. . .In real life, exile calls for knowing when to jump ship and when to ride the tide, who are reliably your friends and who pays lip service to you, who is trying to ruin you, what skills will be impressive to others in the work place, when to feign that you are a helpless princess and when to remind yourself that you are a queen capable of standing in the space you occupy and taking down those who would oppose you, how to make dinner with whatever is about to go off in your fridge, how to learn to entertain without spending a small fortune and making yourself crazy, all those skills we've been forced to learn in various capacities.

So okay, you've taken what you can carry as we've previously established as a metaphorical medieval queen. Wait, let's sit here a moment. What would you take? Your children? (That is not a given, sister queens. Sometimes taking your children would endanger them more, sometimes they were already being held hostage elsewhere but reasonably safe, sometimes you just didn't want to be slowed down in your flight in the middle of the night. We learn difficult things about ourselves in exile. Things we never had to look at in our previous lives.) Your furs? Horses? Gold plate to sell off? Jewels? Letters? Seals? A mirror? Things you've stolen from your enemies? Your ladies? Your sisters? It has to be fast, fast, fast. You only have a few hours to plan how to escape and where to go and what your next move will be. The rest will be decided on the road and in exile. You must chose wisely. Do you want to stay hidden or are you going to war? What will you do if you are found? What will you do if you are defeated? The wind has changed against you this quickly, you've only been able to smell it outside your window for a day, maybe three. It's not a lot of time to form a really cohesive plan. Royals went on progress during the warm months all the time but that required many servants, many mules, many chests to pack all your goods into and baggage carts. Progress moved slowly for a reason. Your servants and your ladies in waiting will have been planning your next Progress for months. Here's a hint for the newly exiled: um, you gonna get caught doing it that way. So basically, you can only take the modern equivalent of like four large suitcases. All your queenly worldly junk probably needs at least a hundred modern large suitcases. So really think about what you would take and why because it probably tells you a lot about your actual current exile and what's important to you and where you need to be focused.

Your resources are limited because you're in exile for a reason. You've been cut off from much of your financial resources, lots of powerful people are pissed off at you, many of your allies are pretending not to know you currently and it's super stressful in exile either trying to stay hidden or plan a war on a limited budget especially when you've probably only mostly read the medieval equivalent of Ye Olde Bridal Magazine and have likely never tried to wage a war before and don't really have a lot of weapons or gun powder. In the words of my nephew, Logan Robert Doggie, it's not good.

How to Manage a Tiny Empire with Even Tinier Resources

Keep your eye on the prize. Often, one winds up in exile because you are not willing to go along to get along. Examples: Catherine of Aragon would not be tucked into an abbey just because she was menopausal, Margaret Tudor was not going to stay married to her jerky husband when she had a hot new proto husband in the wings just because her stupid brother Henry wanted her to be, Elizabeth Woodville wasn't super into being dispossessed of her throne periodically, platform issues essentially. What are you defending that's yours that has sent you into exile? Why is it that important to you? Are you willing to make concessions? Where is your moral compass here? What are you willing to do to get out of exile? What won't you do?

Your emotional resources are limited, plan accordingly. Yes, you're in exile. Yes, it's hella, hella stressful. No, that doesn't mean you get to take a pass card on whatever issue a loved one is having because this is your exile, goddamnit and you have enough problems. You also don't need to surrender yourself to every issue or whim a loved one is having. Learn what is actually an emergency and what is not. Figure out what you actually have to give and don't overextend past that part. Practice firmly saying, no I can't do that. Sometimes going to lunch or taking one of your olds to the doctor or playing High Ho Cherry O for the nine millionth time that day will be a sacrifice, but one you can afford to make many times. Though sometimes, you will not have it in you. Learn what you can afford and what you can't afford. Carve time for yourself to do what you want, even if it's just an audiobook in the car or cooking what you want for dinner, tiny citizen revolt be damned, even if it's a teeny act of self care. I go to the gym for 20 minutes to text on an elliptical. It's better than not doing that. I had been putting off getting various items I needed for my beauty regime for an assortment of crummy to myself reasons that basically boiled down to: I stopped feeling like I was worth the effort. That's crap. I had the money and the budget to replace the missing items and when I finally stopped dragging my feet about getting the items and then actually doing beauty regime, I felt like a human being for the first time in a while. I took a little piece of myself back by doing that. That's how exile is won, taking back all of those tiny pieces you gave away. They're yours. Demand them back and don't back down.

Your physical resources are limited, plan accordingly. Money, physical wellness, space are probably not infinite. Really figure out what you want and what you need. Sometimes take out is critical. Sometimes having domestic help is critical. Sometimes learning to make your own fun with what you have is critical so you can pay all your bills. Sometimes it's worth skipping an experience you are not that into to have really good food at home. Sometimes it's worth eating okay food for a bit to go to that experience. It's a lot of trade offs. If you have physical wellness issues, know when it's worth it to (temporarily) cripple yourself for an experience and when you need to go to bed at 9p. Learn to make these trades. You can't have everything anymore so you need to be strategic both from a wellness perspective and also to keep your eye on the prize so you don't find yourself unable to make bold moves because you have bankrupted yourself of self care, money and wellness.

Make an exile plan. So, you escaped. Well done, sister queen. That's the hardest part, finding the strength, boldness and luck to slither away from a court that's turned against you. You ran, you took your goods. Now what will you do? How will you continue to adjust to exile? Are you planning to stay hidden or to go to war? How will you win your prize? Now is when you figure out how to find solid ground in exile.

Get yourself supported. Exiled queens usually would talk to their ambassadors to beg other countries for financial support, military support and to start figuring out the terms of post-exile life. Your ambassadors are your family, friends and loved ones. Support in this modern life comes from many places and in many ways. If you can be brave enough to open your hands and ask for support, you will be really pleasantly surprised what will come back to you. Things you never thought to ask for, tea, "purse dumping" sessions, encouragement, retreats, sanctuary. Be appreciative and be sure to actually follow through with these offers. This is how exile alliances are made, through the kind hands of others.

Stay Final Girl ready. You are in exile. You never know when you will need to run, seduce new allies, charm ambassadors, kiss and make up with your enemies over dinner or when someone will come to try to seize what few goods you have. Be ready for anything, as we talked about - go to the gym, go to yoga, strength train, limit your garbage animal habits so you stay sharp, be ready to entertain at a moment's notice and have the perfect gown ready to wear to a gala you've managed to invite yourself to. Be ready to say yes to opportunities that bring you closer to your prize.

Cast your charms. There's a beautiful scene in The White Queen in the book and the movie where Jacquetta casts charms out to a river and her daughter winds them in a little at a time every night. I've been trying to figure out how to make that work without polluting local bodies of water. Here's my thought: start collecting charms - on etsy, at thrift stores, at craft stores. Have a bag to keep them in. Think about your prize and your exile and select a number of charms. At least 3, no more than 13. When you need to know what your future holds, get some black sand and a large deep glass vase from a craft store. Put the craft sand at the bottom of the bowl. Measure at least a yard of thread (preferably, silk) and tie one end to each of your charms. Bury them in the sand. Add black sea glass or black dragon tears on top of the sand to the top of your vase. Leave it there for at least a week while intentionally working to forget which charms are there. When it's fuzzy in your mind, add spring water. Chose your charm. Cut the threads to the other charms, symbolically cutting off futures that won't happen (you can recycle them in your charm bag after the working is complete). Get a v. small dowel or empty spool and wind approximately four inches a night onto the dowel for nine nights. When you pull it out, use the water/stones to scry for what it means. Wear the charm somewhere on you until your charm's meaning has come to pass. Once the meaning has come to pass, bury it at a crossroads.

#white queen #Queen #the tudors #glamour #charm #deborahcastellano #QueensInExile #Occult #witchcraft #witch #pagan #wicca #wiccan #death #death rites #self care

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woodardmiles1992 · 4 years ago

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How Do I Increase The Height Of My Fence Astounding Diy Ideas

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What To Do If You Want To Grow Taller

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#How Do I Increase The Height Of My Fence Astounding Diy Ideas #How To Grow Taller Faster At 11

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mynameisdreartblog · 6 years ago

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Teachers 3

Libra: Oh, Enoch, I can challenge the "mainstream academic census" by saying that dark matter is actually a gigantic, invisible ass, but that doesn't make it correct or even remotely good. The point is that not every idea is groundbreaking, and that's a lesson you'll have to learn at some point, otherwise they might laugh you out of university! «No, you don't get it, nana Libi, I'm coming to a serious conclusion about how all information is grounds for knowledge, no matter if empirical or aphoristic or its truth-value. I've been attempting to conceptualize about the scientific-poetic consensus for a while, but I'm still struggling teaching about how informed naivety is a complement and not a contradiction! Error breeds sense, Libi!» Wow, my invisible ass analogy just didn't sell this for you, huh? And look at yourself, you're still yapping about all of this metamodern junk. If you weren't my grandchild, I would've wiped the debate floor with you already, and left the stains there as a memoir! Your propositions are far too verbose (dare I say bombastic) for anyone to understand a hint of what you're sending. <We're now peering into Libi's thoughts> Hmm, maybe I should counter his insanity with mine; after all, it's only gonna equalize the friendly tensions between the two of us. <We peer out of Libi's thoughts.> Okay, I'll take your bargain. «Are you finally opening up to my insight?» No, what I'll do is take it one step further and attempt to one-up you with my ass-based analogies. Okay, get this: You are the giant invisible ass, and your observational ability is representative of the ass's body taking in food from outside. And you forming your theories is equivalent to the digestive process undertaken when the body consumes food. Lastly, your communicative application of your ideas is representative of the turds coming out of the giant, invisible ass. That is what it's like debating with you. «Libi, I don't think my philosophical approach at all. Let me start over again, you see, in order to understand metamodernism, we need to view the natural force of the world as…» Goddammit, here we go again.

Cancer: Health teacher. Take it from me, the difference between physical pain and emotional pain is that physical pain has a limit. Like, I can literally slap all of your sensitive spots raw with a paddle until you're bruised all over, take a flailing whip and use it to tear off miniature chunks of your flesh one hit at a time, and then decided to coat the open wounds in lemon-scented salt, and finally stab you with a shard of glass and dump your body into the nearby river; that still wouldn't be as painful compared to the disappointment I felt when I couldn't get the price I wanted for this Killer Instinct crossbow… That came out wrong because you didn't have the history behind that: It involved something with my father and taking up archery as a compensation for my problems, but it never worked out. And the fact you don't know that proves my point that you can't understand that pain, but you can easily understand the pain of, like, stabbing you with glass after ripping your flesh chunks out. […] Listen, I was surprised to learn that Killer Instinct actually sells here, but they've earned me as a loyal customer, but a strange one. You know what I do? I don't get any of the crossbow designs or even the arrows; all I do is just buy the quivers. Those quivers have some great designs I tell you, but… […] Wow, you wimpy piece of crap, I could kick your ass. You look like a person who's never been stabbed in the gut with a glass shard, and if you keep talking smack, you might be a first-timer. […] I was really sad because my dad used to make up a story about how he needed an arrow quiver to store all of his arrows, and he'd never have one sustainable enough, so the arrows just kept falling out. I found out later in life that he never even owned an arrow-dispensing weapon. […] Yeah, <whips> you like that, pinky? <Whips> What's wrong, did you need that bit of flesh or something? The dogs will see it later! […] Come to think of it, I think you're starting to empathize with my struggles a lot more. […] Shit, where do I hide the body?

Virgo: Dance instructor. Take these store-bought rocks and go to the lake where you'll toss them into it and contemplate the negatives you want to leave behind in 1991. Ah, do you hear that? That’s the sound of all your worries hopping away from you, fleeting away from you like that royal blue Mazda I could’ve bought you if we lived in a car-supreme society, but be thankful that wasn’t the case. Take another stone, but take this one ‘cause it has neat patterns on it. Disregarding those patterns, take the stone and throw it once more. [,,,] This one bounced hastily, like it wasn’t ready yet, likely ‘cause you didn’t observe its beauty for long enough. Or maybe the stone was acting judgmental towards you for your refusal to buy the automobile you wanted; Calling you someone who aspires for things but never works for them. Forget about it now, and let’s move onto the next stone: This one’s shiny, a bit too shiny. It knows it’s not a natural artifact of our globe; it knows it was polished to be unrecognizable and perfect for store shelves. Throw it quickly to show it as soon as possible there’s a better life for it at the bottom of the Varvarskoye Vodokhranilishche reservoir. [,,,] And so it goes as swiftly as it was thrown, not even a single skip made. Be resourceful now, Bluma, for this is the common fate that greets many who’ve been polished to nothing from their original inception. All of their circumstances washed away to present a perfect product ‘cause nobody wanted a flawed pebble: Nobody wants a pebble with a story, they just want shiny ones that can only offer a story of trauma and systemization. Here, take a look at this next one: It’s so ugly and degraded that it looks like nana, the poor thing. «But, you’re nana?» Good observation, Bluma; I am. It’s a little thing they call humor, and I’m sure you’ll come to appreciate it in time. Now toss this ugly one gently while you acknowledge how its ugliness is the most unique feature about it. <Upon Bluma tossing the ugly stone, it began skipping like normal until it stopped in the middle of the water, and then began skipping vivaciously around the circumference of the body.> Huh.

Sagittarius: Paleontology teacher. Alright, let me get out the suburban decorations. Do you want either "live, laugh, love" or "bless this mess"? I think I prefer the fused option of "loved and blessed." Still, we have to maintain a manageable level of suburbia that's noticeably mockable but not obnoxiously imposing, and… Um, cutie, are you alright? You don't look too good; was it too hot back there in the Pop-Culture Sewer? O-oh no <her body suddenly dropped, Rossouw rushed to help her fall> Cutie? It's okay, I'm here for you now. Alright, alright, we're gonna find the nearest clinic and we're gonna get you the help you need, alright? You're gonna be okay, cutie; I'll make sure of that. We'll find you a… Huh, what was that? <She starts to reach into her pockets to take out something clear and hollow.> Um, this is an empty bottle: Is there any significant to this? Look, you clearly must be weary and in a bad state of mind after what just happened… Uh, y-you're <she puts a message in the bottle, ensuring its down in a clichéd manner.> [,,,] What do you want me to do with this letter? <Whispering is heard.> You don't want me to read it? Then who's it for? The river… The Orange River? Cutie, I c-can't do this, because I need to attend to you before it. But, <Rossouw glances over to see the beginning of the Orange River right next to her strangely.> I guess this was supposed to happen… I don't know what to feel about this other than I love you so much, and I'll do anything for you even at the most dire of hours. <Rossouw walks away, and her cutie's body gently lays on the floor as the distant sound of ambulance alarms blares off into the distance.> Well, if she has her heart and mind in the right place, I guess this is what I must do. <Rossouw places the bottle and rapidly hurries as they realize we're low on crunch time and it's nearly 10 pm.> I did it for you, cutie. […] <Rossouw's thoughts start to wander at the sight of the fleeting bottle.> I feel like being told you smell bad is a sign that someone's more comfortable with you, as in they're comfy enough to tell you when you smell bad. But being told you smell good by someone is a sign of obsessiveness. Oh shit, my wife is still unconscious.

#Zodiaccupuncture #Zodipunc #Libra #Cancer #Virgo #Sagittarius

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themikithornburg · 6 years ago

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How can I share a love of reading with my child?

I have in my mind's eye a memory of one of my stepdaughters at about age eight, kneeling on the basement stairway, lounging on her elbows a few steps up, chin resting in one hand, nose in a book. Her love for reading had overtaken her there; if you wanted to get down to the laundry room, you'd have to go around her. Now that same little girl is (gasp!) the grandmother of an almost-five-year-old, and she's hoping the same thing a lot of readers hope for their children and grandchildren, that a love of reading can be passed down to a new generation. We know that people who read for pleasure are on average more successful academically, and therefore economically. But for us book-lovers, the hope is more personal. We want to share our great joy in reading with the people we love. Sadly, that hope isn't as easily fulfilled as it once was. Distractions seem to multiply by the day. When my stepdaughter was little, "screen time" meant TV time only, and her parents put limits on that. Back when I started to read, we didn't even have a television set. (Yes, I hasten to say, TV had been invented, but the signal from the nearest station didn't reach us.) And it's not only that there are more distractions, or even that our lightning-speed media have shortened attention spans. I don't know if any studies prove this, but talking with students for many years makes me pretty sure that, for a lot of young people, the process of turning words on a page into scenes, pictures, voices, a kind of reality, has never been learned. What for me is the magic of stepping into another world through the pages of a book is, for them, simply not possible. They see words, they know what the words mean, but turning those meanings into vicarious experience, the way a film becomes vicarious experience, is something that just doesn't happen. No one taught us to do that; we learned it somehow on our own. But these kids haven't learned it. This makes reading a chore, sometimes necessary but never pleasurable. They can read, if they must, but it's no fun. It's not something they'd choose to do if they didn't have to. How can we overcome this? How can we share our love of books with our children? An internet search for phrases like "motivating kids to read" brings up millions of suggestions. Some of them seem fairly obvious, others not so much. I've chosen three to list here: 1. Start early to read to your child. This sounds obvious, but it deserves discussion. Early means early. Even very young infants are soothed by the sound of your voice, by the rhythm of phrases and sentences. We know that babies are busy from a few months old, learning to recognize words and speech patterns long before they start to speak. They're fascinated by funny and unusual sounds, like rhyme. Take advantage of that fascination! Babies are natural lovers of words, even before they know what the words mean. And reading out loud to them establishes a tradition, something they look forward to in the relationship between you and them. Children of any age like to be read to. On a very basic level, it means your attention is focused on them, and children – as parents know – are little attention hogs. The reading session is an intimate moment, strengthening the relationship bond. This means that the story you're reading is the medium of the bond. It's part of the intimacy, which is one reason children love to hear the same story over and over. Remember this, when you're bored to tears with Good Night, Moon for the forty-seventh time: repetition takes your child back to a good, comfortable place they'll associate with a book, with reading. But more than that, being read to releases a child to enjoy the story or poem without having to struggle with the printed words. This, believe it or not, is true even for older children and teens. When you read to them, they can get into the story itself, without printed words standing in the way. This is exactly what you're striving for. Even older teens (even middle-aged people, in fact) enjoy being read to. When I was teaching university undergrads, I'd occasionally read a poem or a few paragraphs of prose to my class, and I soon discovered that they loved it. This surprised me, but it shouldn't have; aren't audiobooks a big, profitable business? 2. Take the child's interests into account. If your child is interested in dinosaurs or pirates, give them stories about dinosaurs or pirates. Make the stories age-appropriate – which means, make them a little older than what you think is age-appropriate. As you've probably noticed, kids' minds are stretching, almost always a bit faster than their parents guess. Don't hold them back; pull them forward, a little at a time. Under this heading comes something more than any obvious interests the child has expressed. You know this little person. You know what will appeal to her delight in magic, or to his sense of humor. When I was about ten, my mother gave me a book she'd loved when she was about ten – an adult book, but one a ten-year-old could get into. How did she know I'd love it? Because she recognized things in me that she knew about herself. Share your own reading enthusiasms with your kids, and pay attention to what sets off a spark. 3. No Fighting, No Biting! This is the title of one of my favorite kids' books (by Else Holmelund Minarik, illustrated by Maurice Sendak), and it's also very good advice. Remember, your goal is a child who loves reading. You won't get there by bribes or punishments or rules. Reading should be a reward, not a chore – and certainly not a bone to fight over! If they don't like a book, don't force it on them. If they don't feel like reading, let it go until they do. This can be hard, and there's no law against offering enticements – talking to them about a story they really liked and tempting them to reread it, or putting an interesting book in their line of sight when they're tired or bored or feeling not quite up to snuff. But do not set an hour each day for reading and hold them to it. That makes you a dictator, and kids don't like being dictated to any more than you do. And let kids know that you yourself see reading as a reward, that it's something you do for pleasure. Also, other than observing obvious no-no's (for instance, not giving erotic romance to a nine-year-old), don't worry too much about content or form. What they read doesn't matter so much as the fact they enjoy it. When I was a young teen, I read my way avidly through a whole series of really silly, old-fashioned love stories. I know my mother sighed, thinking they were stupid and "a bad influence" on me. But I loved them, I was evolving as a reader, and if it hadn't been for those books I might never have moved on to Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte. Comic books and graphic novels are fine, no matter what your own parents' taboos may have been; in fact, the presence of pictures probably helps bring a visual reality to the written word. Give your child access to as many different books and kinds of books as possible. Fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, adventure, mystery, poetry, biographies, great literature and the literary equivalent of junk food – they're all grist for your mill, widening the reader's potential horizons and increasing the chances that a child will hit upon something he or she doesn't want to live without. As a reader, whether you're a parent or sibling, grandmother or grandfather, aunt or uncle, you're doing your best to pass along your joy in reading. If you have a suggestion I haven't mentioned here, leave a comment to share with the rest of us! I wrote this post, in a slightly different form, as a guest post on a friend's blog a couple of years ago. I thought it was important enough for another outing. For many years, my friend Anne Click taught reading at the university level to kids who needed a remedial course in this basic skill in order to succeed in their other classes. Some of you may find this shocking, but I can assure you it's not at all uncommon. These young students, in their late teens or older, are not below average in intelligence; actually, the fact that they've managed to get through twelve years of schooling without being able to read well suggests to me that they're extremely clever and resourceful. Anne tells me that the top reasons they've gotten that far without learning to read well are, "in no particular order: 1) stymied brain development in the first 3 to 6 years of life 2) absence of books and or role modeling of reading in the home 3) failure mindset/lack of confidence 4) lack of curiosity (most essential quality of a successful student)." Surely, these are handicaps that the adults in these kids' lives can and should be aware of, and can and should attempt to correct early, before the child suffers the real and difficult consequences of not being able – or not wanting – to read.

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sherristockman · 7 years ago

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Six Powerful Home Remedies for Acne Dr. Mercola By Dr. Mercola Acne is one of the most common skin conditions, affecting nearly 85 percent of people between the ages of 12 and 24.1 Not only does acne leave physical marks such as blackheads, whiteheads, inflammation and scars, but it can also create psychological wounds in the form of anxiety, depression and low self-image. As one woman — Emily Goldberg, editorial fellow at The Atlantic — afflicted with chronic acne explains:2 "Over the years I struggled with acne, I had begun to think of it as a personal failure. Something was wrong with my skin, but I also felt like something was wrong with me because I couldn't fix it. Worst of all, there was no hiding this failure. I was convinced it was the first thing people saw when they looked at me, because I knew it was the first thing I saw when I looked at myself." I have personal experience with acne and can relate to both the physical and psychological pain that accompanies it. From my teens into my late 20s, I struggled with cystic acne, a severe form characterized by large, painful lesions. Most teens get a type of acne called acne vulgaris, which can appear on your face, back, chest, neck and shoulders. The most common belief about acne is that it begins when the pores in your skin get clogged with oil (sebum) and dead skin cells, causing the growth of bacteria that trigger inflammation.3 Contrary to what you may have been told, acne is more than an aesthetic problem. It is a sign of imbalance in your body, very specifically in your gut. Many physicians miss the acne-gut connection and focus instead on topical treatments and powerful prescription drugs. These approaches are time-consuming, expensive and offer few lasting effects. Because there are no "quick fixes" to address acne, it's worth your time to uncover the hidden aspects of your diet and lifestyle that are very likely contributing to it. Treating Acne Is Big Business Acne is one of the most common skin problems for which people seek the advice of a dermatologist, and one of the most frequently misunderstood and mistreated conditions. A focus on external solutions has fueled the growth of the acne-treatment industry, which is now estimated at $3 billion in the U.S.4 If you have a mild case of acne, the first line of conventional treatment is often topical. Topical treatments claim to reduce oil production, unclog pores, speed cell turnover and kill off bacteria, thereby reducing inflammation. Your physician will likely recommend creams, gels and lotions, such as benzoyl peroxide or salicylic acid, or topical retinoid medicines, such tretinoin (Retin-A), adapalene (Differin), and tazarotene (Tazorac). If you have moderate to severe acne, it's unlikely topical treatments will be effective. This may result in your physician suggesting oral antibiotics. Some of the most common antibiotics prescribed for acne include doxycycline, erythromycin, minocycline and tetracycline.5 Remember that while taking antibiotics may kill some of the bacteria that are feeding your acne, it will also destroy your beneficial gut bacteria. Loss of healthy gut bacteria can result in yeast infections, as well as resistant bacterial strains, among other problems. Antibiotic resistance continues to be a serious and growing problem today. Take erythromycin, a commonly used acne antibiotic. As more strains of bacteria adapt to erythromycin, it is becoming less effective. Because of antibiotic resistance, some physicians have begun to limit the duration antibiotics are used to treat acne, while others have pulled back from prescribing them altogether. Toxic Medications May Be Offered as the 'Gold Standard' of Acne Treatment If you have severe acne, the gold standard for drug treatment was previously a powerful and potentially harmful medication called Accutane (isotretinoin). A number of studies linked Accutane to numerous damaging side effects, including birth defects, Crohn's disease and suicide.6 When its patent ended in 2009, Swiss drug maker Roche Pharmaceuticals stopped manufacturing Accutane. Although Accutane is off the market, several generic equivalents of isotretinoin remain available today, among them Amnesteem, Claravis, Myorisan and Sotret.7 Isotretinoin is extremely unsafe for pregnant women, and it is administered with great care for that reason. One additional method that has been used to control acne for premenstrual flare-ups and moderate cases of acne in women involves prescribing low-dose birth control pills that contain estrogen, such as Estrostep, Ortho Tri-Cyclen or Yaz.8 While many acne sufferers go through some or all of the treatments mentioned above, it is often to no avail, as affirmed by Goldberg:9 "For years, the cabinet underneath my bathroom sink was a graveyard of skin-care products, filled with the ghosts of face soaps, washes, toners and scrubs past. Bottles of Neutrogena, Cetaphil, Proactiv and Clean & Clear products were all laid to rest after my hopes that they would cure my blemished face were dashed, raised and dashed again. Nothing I tried worked. A couple years and a handful of dermatologists later, piles of prescription products were also thrown into the landfill of acne medications in my bathroom. Tubes of Retin-A, Tazorac and Epiduo cream, and antibiotics like doxycycline and tetracycline had all been prescribed to no avail." While your physician may try to win you over to one of the treatment options I've just discussed, I hope you will not be content with any of those proposed solutions, which seek to treat only your skin. You can make better use of your time by learning about and beginning to treat your acne from the inside out. Does Acne Have Its Roots in the Poor Western Diet? A closer look at the Western diet suggests that sugar and refined carbohydrates (carbs), as well as dairy, may be fueling acne outbreaks. As you can imagine, as the Western diet, with its focus on carb-heavy and dairy-laden fast food and junk food, has creeped into societies around the world, so, too, has acne. Conversely, researchers wrote in the journal Adolescent Health Medicine and Therapeutics:10 " … [T]here are also populations documented that abstain from a Western diet, eating meals … devoid of grains or dairy products. As a result, acne vulgaris is absent in these populations." Research suggests that diets high in sugar and refined carbs — also known as high-glycemic diets — literally feed acne:11 "The association between diet and acne can no longer be dismissed. Compelling evidence shows that high-glycemic load diets may exacerbate acne. Dairy ingestion appears to be weakly associated with acne." What Do Grain-Based Carbs Have to Do With Acne? As you may already know, your body prefers vegetable-based carbs to the ones found in grains. Vegetable-based carbs are slow to break down into simple sugars, and therefore have minimal impact on your insulin levels. On the other hand, eating grain-based carbs raises your insulin and insulin-like growth factor (IGF-1). Higher IGF-1 levels can lead to the release of increased male hormones, such as testosterone, which cause your pores to secrete more sebum. Sebum is a greasy substance that traps acne-promoting bacteria on the surface of your skin. IGF-1 also causes skin cells known as keratinocytes to multiply, a process that is also associated with acne. While dairy products have a relatively low glycemic index, they also increase the IGF-1 level in your blood plasma, generating the same effects noted above.12 In addition, dairy is very hormonally active, meaning it boosts male sex hormones (various forms of testosterone or androgens) and drives up insulin levels, very similar to sugar and starchy carbs.13 On top of the effects to your skin, the consumption of high-glycemic foods and dairy products increases inflammation in your body. Inflammation not only can trigger acne, but it can also wreak havoc on the makeup of your intestinal bacteria, as mentioned earlier. Change Your Diet to Control Acne Outbreaks You'll be happy to know that simply eliminating fast food and junk food from your diet is a great first step toward getting your acne under control. Set a small goal to begin reducing sugary carbs such as baked goods (e.g., bagels, bread, cookies and muffins). Replace those items with whole foods — grass-fed meat, organic vegetables and high-quality fats. Next, move on to grains and start reducing your consumption of corn, oats, rice and wheat. If you regularly consume pasta and potatoes, particularly potato chips or French fries, consider that these items may be feeding your acne, and may need to be eliminated. As you reduce your consumption of each troublesome food, you will begin to notice changes in your acne. Almost immediately, you should experience less inflammation and fewer flare ups. If you remove a troublesome item from your diet for a time and then decide to reintroduce it, you will likely notice its effect — for better or for worse — on your acne. In time, you will feel increasingly empowered to manage your food intake in a way that supports your desire for clearer skin and fewer acne outbreaks. In some cases, if certain foods consistently trigger acne, you may decide to eliminate them from your diet permanently. Besides the foods mentioned above, I recommend you leave fruit juices, soda and other sugar-laden beverages behind. If you have not yet cultivated the habit of reading ingredient labels, begin reading them now. You may be surprised at just how much sugar and empty calories you've been ingesting. Particularly avoid food and drinks containing corn syrup and high fructose corn syrup, as well as added sugar of any kind. Controlling Acne Takes a Whole-Body Approach Your skin is an organ of elimination and your body's largest organ. Because your skin is a channel for eliminating toxins, it's important to tune into the message acne is trying to convey. When your complexion is broken out — be it dry, inflamed, oozing, red or splotchy — it is signaling the presence of underlying issues that need your attention. While most conventional acne treatments address the superficial level of your skin, you must take a whole-body approach to nourish and heal your skin from the inside out. Below are some essential factors that you may consider integrating into your acne-busting plan over the long term: Avoid starchy carbs, sugars, grains and dairy: As mentioned above, changing your diet is probably the single most important step you can take to improve your skin health. Replace acne-triggering foods with whole foods and healthy fats, such as avocados, grass-fed butter, coconut oil, olives and olive oil. Balance your bacteria levels: You can reestablish your bacterial balance by incorporating naturally fermented foods and/or taking a high-quality probiotic supplement. Proper bacteria balance is particularly important if you have been on antibiotics, because those drugs kill off the beneficial bacteria in your gut that are vital to a strong immune system. Drink more water: Hydrating your body with pure, filtered water facilitates cell growth and regeneration, eliminates waste and improves your skin tone. Every day, drink enough water so that your urine is a pale-yellow color. If your urine is bright yellow, you probably need to drink more water (unless you take B vitamins, which themselves turn urine bright yellow). Eat animal-based omega-3 fats: Omega-3 fats help to normalize skin lipids, reduce inflammation and prevent dehydration in your cells. Fatty-acid deficiency can manifest in a variety of ways, but skin problems such as eczema, thick patches of skin and cracked heels are common. In one study, 45 individuals, with mild to moderate acne, were given a daily omega-3 supplement for 10 weeks that was shown to decrease their acne significantly.14 Get adequate vitamin D: Without adequate vitamin D, your body cannot fight infections on your skin or elsewhere. Exposing large areas of your skin to appropriate amounts of sunshine is the best way to optimize your vitamin D levels, but you can also take a supplement. Make time for exercise: Getting plenty of high-intensity exercise promotes blood circulation, regulates hormones and reduces stress, all of which help fight acne. If you have access to an infrared sauna, it can be helpful for detoxing because sweating can help flush unwanted toxins out through your skin. Manage your stress: My favorite tool for destressing is the Emotional Freedom Technique or EFT, which involves tapping on your body's energy meridians to clear emotional blocks and restore your mind-body balance. Other proven stress-busters are meditation and yoga. Prioritize sleep: Did you know that a good night's sleep can decrease your stress and lead to clearer skin? Your body's main time for healing and restoration, including renewing your skin, is at night while you sleep. Six Natural Remedies for Temporary Relief From Acne Flare-ups If you are dealing with a major acne flare-up right now and are seeking temporary relief, you may want to try one or more of the home-remedies presented below.15 Aloe Vera Using a spoon, scrape the gel from an aloe leaf, and apply it to clean skin as a moisturizer. Repeat one to two times daily, or as desired. Apple Cider Vinegar Mix one part organic apple cider vinegar and three parts water (use more water if your skin is sensitive). Apply the mixture to the affected area using a cotton ball. Wait five to 20 seconds, then rinse with water and pat dry. Repeat this process one to two times per day, as needed. Green Tea Steep green tea in boiling water for three to four minutes and allow to cool. Apply tea to skin using a spray bottle or cotton ball. Allow to dry, then rinse the area with water and pat dry. Honey and Cinnamon Mask Make a paste with 2 tablespoons honey and 1 teaspoon cinnamon. Apply the mixture to the affected area and leave on for 10 to 15 minutes. Rinse off and pat your skin dry. Tea Tree Oil Mix one part tea tree oil with nine parts water. Use a cotton ball to apply the mixture to affected areas. Repeat one to two times daily, or as needed. (Tea tree is potent, so always dilute it before applying it to your skin.) Eat More Zinc-Rich Foods Low zinc levels have been associated with severe acne,16 so if you suspect your levels may be low consider adding more zinc-rich foods, such as grass-fed beef and pastured chicken, pumpkin seeds, mushrooms and spinach, to your diet.

#VitalityPath

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hairlossyrjy750-blog · 7 years ago

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The Basic Principles Of Hair Transplant Inside Phoenix

Someone the moment questioned me: "How come you hassle with all this Health and fitness nonsense? Every thing passes so you're just gonna get outdated and die anyway!"I looked at this curmudgeon, bent about as he was and supported by a cane, and I replied: "Whatever you say is genuine: anything passes and no-one gets from right here alive, but what a great time I'm http://www.bbc.co.uk/search?q=hair transplant going to have until that working day comes. I will squeeze each individual ounce of effectiveness out of this physique that I was http://edition.cnn.com/search/?text=hair transplant provided for Here is the path I have picked--It can be my art sort. Some individuals sing, some paint, some make magnificent sculpture; I build throughout the medium of physical lifestyle. I Convey myself throughout the physical human body. " Steve Maxwell The above quote was handed on to me by a person I obtain inspirational in some ways and delivers to battle in managing the stream of the subsequent write-up. So normally has this been rewritten so as not to become a hostile rant about the point out of your species, right here goes: Roughly ten years or so back, I read through a newspaper post, it was a couple of review that experienced only recently been done and had thrown up some surprising final results. The examine was of the physical Health and skill of young people, common checks including the 100 meter dash times, vertical bounce and some power checks. The subjects ended up, as constantly, a cross part in the technology. What was abnormal is the fact that for the first time For the reason that screening started the outcome came back again reduced compared to previous yr. For the first time in recorded history the human race experienced failed to further improve on alone, we had essentially long gone backwards. Please keep in mind the outcomes are a median from a bunch, I'm guaranteed you'll find men and women analyzed that did in fact established new data and took the test to new highs, it is just that they are already drowned out by the rest. I discover this heartbreaking. Which was then. Since exercise has grown to be fewer and fewer fashionable, lifetime is at any time a lot more easy, being overweight has become an epidemic and Fats Young children are the norm, I'd personally greatly choose to see the results since obesity has become an epidemic, given that We have now invented a new issue generally known as childhood obesity. How is it feasible in any civilised Culture for a child to become obese? Children, or at least After i was a baby, operate and Perform at a pace that would leave the fittest Olympian gasping for breath. What has transpired that these Young children now You should not melt away off each individual calorie they eat by developing, producing and actively playing? I try to remember my very own childhood, practically every day would involve some form of Actual physical exercise, never ever would we sit even now for very long. We'd be managing as well and from faculty, actively playing online games during the schoolyard, racing our bikes at the weekend, climbing (and slipping out of) trees and kicking whichever would pass for a ball. Even when the weather was too bad to go outside the house, we'd be in our rooms leaping about. Scraped knees, bangs and bruises have been the norm, we wore them with delight, bragging regarding how we fell out of that tree or how significant our smash was whenever we fell off our bikes. Scores on a pc activity, who cares about them once you just bought chased with the neighbours Pet dog only escaping by jumping the fence from the type of your favorite hero over the telly? How has life modified for the worse that youngsters are actually unable to do this stuff and rather are sitting down around having Fats? But in order to help you save this post descending into a rant I'll in its place offer a listing of do's and don'ts, that if adopted may just halt this slide backwards and instead may just carry the human race back for the heights it as Phoenix Arizona hair transplants soon as occupied and richly justifies. 1- Shift far more - We've hardly ever had it so easy, and This is actually the key factor in our demise, we became lazier as existence turned extra effortless. Leisure is pumped into our centrally heated abode 24hours every day by using The tv. Whilst sat watching the senseless drivel within the Television set our metabolism can slow to near rest levels, we burn much less calories even though observing TV than if we invested the equivalent time sat studying a e book. Along with the Tv set would be the playbox megastation xdrive which includes every sporting activity possible on it with World wide web connections to play anyone around the world. Put simply you now not have a kick about with the neighbours because you're much too active enjoying from some bloke in A different continent, from the sofa. The car https://www.washingtonpost.com/newssearch/?query=hair transplant is currently a "will need to have" While when I was minimal, it had been a luxurious. How Lots of individuals wander into city, or maybe cycle? Alright if you reside within the state, but Many of us live in the city/town perhaps a mile within the stores, depart the car in your house and stroll, hey in the event you over do the browsing somewhat, get the bus residence. two- Try to eat refreshing - You can find entire bunch of artificial ailments, These types of are mostly self inflicted and so avoidable. By taking in fresh foods, cooking the things your Granny would cook, keeping away from anything at all that comes in a packet, you could possibly eliminate These types of disorders. Chemical additives, sugar, salt, e-numbers, all of these do untold harm to our bodies. Because the rise of ease food, There was an increase in cancer, diabetic issues and obesity. Get a few great cookbooks, get into the new meals isles from the supermarkets, you simply may help save your own personal life in addition to the life of your family. 3- Consume H2o - We have all heard about the 8 glass rule. It can be extra of a guideline than the usual rule but it really works. We are created up of eighty% water, each chemical system within our entire body demands water. Without having it our skin dries and wrinkles, our hair appears to be like dull, our gums convert pale, they're just the noticeable signs, however, if this is going on on the surface of your body, just think what is happening within?! Bottled or faucet? That's up to you, Individually I buy a bottle after which re-fill it within the tap. And no, espresso and fizzy drinks Really best hair transplants doctors phoenix don't count. four- Be part of a Club/team - Social assist is a big issue. The majority of us just can't function without having it, men and women are In any case a herd animal. But Within this modern-day age of town living, who definitely understands their neighbours? If you are attempting to unfastened weight/get match/alter https://phoenixzcye648.skyrock.com your life type, then sign up for a gaggle of like minded individuals. People that share your ambitions, what ever These are, and can really encourage you, supply assistance and support. In accordance with some sources, a help network can enhance your probabilities of good results by nearly 80% 5- Really encourage your kids - Childhood obesity is not simply an epidemic, however it's criminal. Get the Young children exterior, get them into some form of Bodily action, provide them fantastic, nutritious food stuff, Restrict Television set (that features Computer system video games) time. Should you be a father or mother, check out not to consume "kid" meals you, direct by case in point and possess genuine meals with generous parts of fruit and veg. Children do pick up on this, and with just a little steerage don't have to continue to exist a eating plan of chicken nuggets and chips. six- Toss out the toilet scales - Certainly, I imply it! An improved measure within your Bodily very well becoming is usually a tape evaluate along with a note book. Becoming obsessive about your pounds can cause unhealthy feeding http://follicleyivr933.webs.com on patterns. Your much better off measuring your curves using a tape and keeping observe this way. 7- Set ambitions and challenges - Effectively summertime is on It truly is way, how about placing a purpose to possess a bikini human body in your August vacation for the south of France (or wherever) that gives you 6 months, simple! It's possible there is a easier obstacle, the women's mini marathon is developing (see beneath), there are always martial arts tournaments on, find some thing, place a date on it and work to attain it. I do know we get informed that we live longer now than in the past right before, but the amount of this is because of pharmaceutical advancements. While our bodies have gone into drop, the drug businesses have found strategies to keep you ticking over, just provided that you get their products. Perfectly place two fingers around them and as an alternative get out and get transferring, cut out the junk from the diet plan and see how You begin to have more healthy, much more energetic and slimmer in a matter of months. Like Steve Maxwell from the quote above, I haven't any intention of halting, I will not give up or use my age as an excuse. If I glance just after my thoughts and body, my thoughts and entire body will search following me. I intention to be healthy and powerful sufficient that once the ol' grim reaper comes knocking, I'll have the ability to kick his bony arse back again in which he arrived from. Who's with me?

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