#there are certain limitations but not many — for good or ill

[im-da-bronx]

This absolutely.

But I just want to say, as someone whos family currently gets the majority of their groceries from a food pantry:

Grocery stores work with local food banks and pantries. A good percentage of our food isn’t donated by people, but by grocery stores. If the grocery store throws out food, it’s because it wasn’t safe to give to the food pantry. Trust me. We get so many foods with “Sell by” dates on the day we get it.

Grocery stores aren’t throwing out food that could be given away. They are throwing out food that has the possibility of making someone sick. Sure, a lot of the food is probably ok to eat, but when it comes to food poisoning, it’s better to be extra safe than sorry, especially when food poisoning can cause lifelong chronic illnesses and death.

Some supermarkets work with local farmers in an effort to minimize food waste. Anything designated “unfit for human consumption” but not completely inedible will be used as food for livestock, and any completely inedible food that can will be composted. (This is the part where I remind you that consumers are the largest single contributor to food waste at 43%, and while businesses do contribute to 40% of food waste, this includes restaurants and food service companies alongside grocery stores).

The biggest reasons grocery stores limit what they donate are liability and logistics. Stores think that they can be sued if someone gets sick from food they donate, which means they tend to be overly cautious when throwing food away (as I stated earlier). However, the US has the Bill Emerson Good Samaritan Food Donation Act, which legally protects donors (such as major chain grocery stores) so long as they meet certain criteria when donating food.

The second issue is logistics, meaning that grocery stores and food pantries might lack the ability to safely transport or store donable food, which leads to food being discarded when it would have been donated. This can mean they don't have enough refrigerated trucks, they don't have enough drivers, they have a limited amount of cold storage at the food pantry, or even that they simply don't have enough volunteers to help load or unload food.

It is important to keep in mind that there are a lot of people who recognize a problem, that just don't talk about the problem. Sometimes its because they don't care or don't know what to do, but a lot of the time the reason they're not talking about the problem is because they're actively working to fix or circumvent the problem. If you are concerned about how much food grocery stores throw away, volunteer with a food pantry to help transport food safely. And if you're wondering why you don't hear about this on the news, its because 1) most news agencies have some kind of agenda, and 2) there is a sense of shame at being unable to provide for your family, even if you're working full time. It's not something that people really talk about, which is a tragedy, because if you don't talk about it, how will you know where to go for help?

Anyway, TL;DR: while there are many things that our country meets with unnecessary violence, grocery stores donating to food pantries is not one of them.

I think it's stupid when people say political violence has no place in this country when our government uses violence against poor people every day. Why does a person sleep outside in the cold when the car dealership is heated all night? Why do people go hungry when grocery stores pack dumpsters with perfectly edible food? Because of the threat of violence. Because someone with a gun will show up if you even try it.

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. ��Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

(to be continued)

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[athalantan]

I hate to say it but the Weave really is the optimal source of magic. It’s not the only source, as Myst.ran propaganda has led many to believe, but what’s not propaganda are the pros of using it.

It’s reliable for one. When you cast a spell correctly, you can always expect it to turn out the same way. The only determiner is your own skill. This also makes teaching easier.

It’s relatively safe for another. Yes, magic is dangerous, but all that happens when you fuck up a spell is it fails. It’s not like you mispronounce the incantation and it blows up in your face. Now experimenting with magic is another matter. That can get explosive — but there are certain safeguards you can put in place. And once you have it perfected, it becomes reliable.

The greatest benefit is probably the amount of magic you’re able to mix. Magic can be categorized into schools, but there’s nothing stopping you from casting from multiple schools. You can mix and match and stack and tether to your heart’s delight. Yeah you might get more than you bargain for, but the spells themselves won’t become volatile or fail.

When you draw from other sources, you are limited to what that one source can supply. There’s no guarantee spells will turn out the same every time regardless of how you cast. Spells are also likely to become dangerous, at least unpredictable, if you make an error in casting, and they’re likely to be volatile when mixed with spells of other types. You’re really taking your fate into your own hands. This likewise complicates teaching. All-in-all, you aren’t limited by a deity, but you aren’t protected by one either.

[onlymimiwastaken]

Warrior Penelope stuff cause I've been listening to too many EPIC genderbent covers, and I wanted to give my take on it (also cuz I kinda want to draw it one day)

- Ares as Penelope's patron, absolutely! But Ares didn't have a huge cult in Sparta, although he wasn't hated. So my lore take version thing is that ATHENA wanted to be Penelope's patron (she had already an eye on Ody kinda) but Ares saw his chance, got to it first and became attached to Penelope without wanting to admit it, also because she saw the good and useful in him. Athena still watches over Penelope (especially after her and Ares platonically break up, which she finds really stupid) and is the one who does her best to protect Ithaca while she's gone. She's by Ody's side while he misses his wife and is mostly the reason why the Suitors hadn't taken over yet.

- To get Ares to realize his mistake, Athena tricks him into helping Telemachus defeat Antinous in Little Wolf because free bloodshed, only to end up sensitized by Telemachus because holy shit, my friend's son is here almost dying to this ASSHOLE who thinks he's so much stronger than MY friend the queen and even me like who tf does he think he is. Athena makes Ares fucking rational for once. And maybe even Aphrodite, as well, gets some damn sense in his mind like "they love each other like you and I and my girl is doing her best to get home you're going to apologize rn"

- ctimene holds a claymore double her height with no problems

- penelope is more "cold ruthless" than Odysseus, in a way that she's still poised (until the end or when she's really brought to her knees which is disturbing) while doing merciless stuff. She's emotionless a lot more (just on the surface)

- Ares was the one to give Penelope the idea of going to war instead of Odysseus, for obvious reasons. And Pen is really a mastermind among the Greeks ofc

- Ares and Pen fought in their My Goodbye version because she "held back her power while her friends got devoured" "she didn't even fight Polyphemus, didn't even TRY to kill him" "hid behind her wits to get things done". Because when fighting Polyphemus, she knew that if she tried to kill Polyphemus while he was asleep, they'd be stuck in that cave forever (like in the real Odyssey). And knew that fighting while her friends got killed would slow them down and probably get more people dead. And when they ran away, she didn't go back to kill the Cyclops even if she could've because of yes, mercy, but also because she would've awakened all the other Cyclops and sailing away was faster, better. Ares deemed this cowardice. Crazy thing, since one of the most important things to him is courage.

- Ares overstimates Penelope's power. Like, yes, she's exceptional, but still HUMAN. With her limits. He hasn't dealt with a human personally in years so he doesn't understand this, so his expectations are ridiculously high, which ends up breaking Penelope.

- During 600 strike, Penelope can actually breathe underwater and not hold her breath for such a long time and be fine because she's half naiad (yes, they are fresh water nymphs but still). Also this may make her even stronger around water (to a certain degree, she's still very mortal)

- calypso is pansexual

this is already a lot, ill add more when i think about it lol (also if i realize any of these ideas don't make sense)

[cydork]

Alien Questionnaire - A Biological Perspective

A while ago, somebody linked me a very comprehensive worldbuilding questionnaire. For most aspects of a fictional society, it was great, but I noticed it assumed that anyone using it was making up a fictional human society, or at least a society of beings very similar to humans. As such, there was almost nothing in the biology department, which to me is one of the best parts! Thus, this questionnaire was born.

These questions are designed to help people worldbuild from a biological foundation. As such, the questionnaire only touches lightly on other aspects of a fictional society, and is more of a jumping off point. I wrote it with the aim of using it to develop aliens, but it should be suitable for any project with non-humanoid species, such as sapient terrestrial animals.

Have fun! I'd love to see your answers :)

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

General Anatomy How many limbs do they have? Do they have limbs at all?

What are their primary manipulators? Where are they located? How does this affect their tool use, building ability, etc?

What kind of body covering do they have, e.g. hair, scales, feathers? How do they clean it? Do they shed this covering constantly, or all at once at certain times? 

Can they maintain a constant body temperature? If not, how do they deal with changing environmental temperatures? 

What kind of habitat do they live in? Both specific habitat, and broader such as on land vs in water.

What adaptations do they have for living in this habitat?

What kind of creature did they evolve from?

What are the similarities and differences to their closest living relatives? 

What resource(s) is the most necessary and urgent for them? E.g. for many animals, but not all, it’s water.

What are some common mutations? E.g. eye colours, ability to digest lactose in humans.

What injuries or illnesses are considered disabling? 

How is their healing ability? Can they regenerate? If they can, is that limited to certain body parts or a certain number of times?

Senses What senses do they have? E.g. sight, smell, electroreception, etc.

How good are those senses?

Which of their sense/s do they use the most in everyday life?

How might this choice of sense impact the way they interact with the world? 

Can they detect things that Earth creatures cannot? If yes, how and why?

Movement  How do they move? Do they walk, crawl, fly, etc? 

If they have multiple modes of movement, which is preferred, and why?

Which part/s of their body do they use to move?

What is their speed and endurance like? 

How agile are they? 

Do they rely mainly on their own bodies for travel, or do they use pack animals and machines? 

How often do they move around? Are they mainly sedentary, do they move a lot within a set area, do they migrate, etc?

Do they have different levels of mobility depending on age, sex, or other biological group? E.g. young barnacles are able to swim, while adults are anchored permanently to a surface. 

Reproduction and Lifecycle  How many sexes are there? 

Are there differences between the sexes (ignoring the reproductive system)? 

Are there different castes, such as in honeybees or naked mole rats? If so, what is the function of each caste? 

Are differences in sex or caste used to justify discrimination or hierarchy? How might these ideas differ in different populations? 

Do they have a concept of gender? If so, is gender affected by sex, caste, or some other factor?

How do they attract a mate? Do they release a chemical into the air, do an elaborate display, etc?

Does one individual try to actively woo another, or is courtship more mutual?

What do they find attractive in members of the same species?

What is the usual reproductive partnership? E.g. two individuals, one main reproducing individual with a harem, no set partner, etc. 

How long do they live?

How are young brought into the world? Live birth, eggs, spores, etc?

Is producing young a painful, dangerous process, or is it easy?

How much parental investment is there? Are there many young with little investment, or few young with a lot of investment (r vs K strategy)? Or is it somewhere in the middle? 

How many offspring are produced at a time? Think about how attitudes towards children may differ between a species that produces one or two, and a species that produces dozens or even hundreds at a time.

How do they grow? Are they born looking like miniature adults, gradually growing bigger? Do they have specific phases of high growth, like puberty? Do they have a larval phase, metamorphosis? 

How self-sufficient are they as young? Can they move around and feed themselves as soon as they are born? Do they require parental care? 

What is the usual structure of childcare? Single or multiple parents/related individuals? Communally raised? 

Is sex purely for reproduction, or does it serve other purposes?

What kind of sexuality is considered the norm? This doesn’t just refer to same/other sex pairings, but the culture around sex in general.

Diet and Foodchain What is their diet? Are they carnivores, omnivores, frugivores, insectivores, etc?

Do they feed off an unusual source, for example rocks, metals, or (in appropriate settings) something like magic or souls?

What physical adaptations do they have for this diet? 

Is their diet very restricted, or can they have a wide range of foods?

How often do they eat? What is the culture around mealtimes, if any?

Are they prey for other organisms? For each other?

If they are, how do they deal with it? Do they fight back, have barriers, or do they accept it as a part of life?

If they are hunters themselves, what is their attitude to killing other organisms? Are they respectful? Prideful of their kill? Is it completely trivial? 

If they are hunters, how do they hunt? Are they solitary or packhunters? Are certain members of the group designated to hunt? 

Are the results of foraging or hunting shared, or is it everyone for themself?

Are they parasitic, parasitised, or in a symbiotic relationship with any other organisms? 

Body Rhythms How often do they sleep?

What time of the day are they most active? Are they nocturnal, diurnal, crepuscular? 

Do they generally sleep for one long period a day, multiple shorter periods throughout, or something in between? 

Do they sleep to cope with extreme temperatures or bad conditions, i.e. hibernate or aestivate?

Do they have any biological processes that disrupt their life e.g. moulting, reproductive cycles, etc?

If yes, how does their society accommodate for these processes? Does it accommodate them at all? 

Communication What is their main method of communication? Sound, visuals, scent, etc? Think about their main sense and how this would affect communication.

What is their body language like? What small moving parts might aid their body language?

If they have multiple methods of communication, are they all given equal weight, or is one considered higher than others? 

Society How sociable are they? 

If social, what is the usual social structure? 

Are there hierarchies? How strict or relaxed are the roles?

How are disputes usually settled? Is it more common to be violent or appease the other party? 

If not social, what is the reaction to being with other individuals? Do they become aggressive or stressed? Do they tolerate each other? 

What is the usual size of a community? Do they have communities at all? 

Do they have an in-group vs out-group mentality? If so, how strong is it? This generally relates to how scarce or plentiful resources were during their evolution, and how territorial their ancestors were.

What kind of bonds do they form? 

On the spectrum of individualistic to community-oriented, where do they fall?

Do they have a strong sense of personal identity? Think about how this might tie in with the previous question. 

What are the main things they derive identity from? Occupation, gender, family ties, etc?

Do they have names? If yes, how are these names formed? Are they given by another party or chosen by the individual?

Have they domesticated any creatures? If so, what do they use these creatures for?

Do they have any unusual relationships with other creatures on their planet (beyond predation, parasitism or mutualism)?

Do they produce art? What are their main forms of artistic expression? Think about how this will be linked to their main sense(s), communication method, and/or primary manipulators.

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

GLOSSARY Primary manipulator: Main body part used to manipulate objects, e.g. hands in humans, trunks in elephants, feet in parrots.

Sedentary: Inactive, staying in the same place.

Caste (reproductive): A group within a species with differences in body type and reproductive ability.

Symbiosis/Mutualism: Interactions where both parties benefit, e.g. cleaner fish getting a meal in exchange for picking irritating parasites off larger fish.

Aestivate: To become inactive during hot or dry periods, usually involving being sealed in mucus or soil e.g. lungfish, snails. 

Reproductive cycle: Regular hormone fluctuations that affect an animal’s fertility or attitude towards breeding. The cycles can range from months to years and can include things such as antler growth in male deer, heat cycles, and menstruation in humans.

[atley01]

Tips for all of my alternative & Chronically ill/ disabled friends!

A big thing that's helped me feel more comfortable accommodating my disability is finding accessibility tools that reflect my personality / interests.

I should put a disclaimer that making disability "aesthetic" should not be the most important thing about your health! I do this where I can to help me accept my disability.

Here are some alt accessibility tools I've found / made & utilized for myself!

1. If you're prone to nausea:

Anti-nausea meds work, but I also find that peppermints work just as well! I always have mints on me. At home, I've stored them in this coffin container!

I do keep a few of these mints in my bag, as well as ginger hard candies (they taste very strong, but are VERY efficient). I got the peppermints at Dollar tree, and they've genuinely been a life saver.

Alternatively, I've found this adorable ouija board altoids container that has mints in it!

The mints are even fun-shaped! I also saw other horror-movie themed altoid containers in-store as well. Since they're tiny, they dont work well for severe nausea, but they are still helpful!

2. If you struggle with temperature-regulation:

For me, my hands and feet are always FREEZING, but my core will be super warm. What has helped me a lot has been gloves and fuzzy socks!

I have a lot of spooky gloves like this, but I prefer the fingerless ones because I can still use my phone and be warm at the same time! I've also heard my friends who are wheelchair users say gloves can help protect your hands if you use a manual wheelchair. Another added bonus is that certain gloves can help limit mobility for those of you who struggle with hypermobility in your hands.

3. Do you have noise-canceling headphones? Decorate them!

I decorated my N/C headphones in shark stickers because sharks are my special interest!

These are Soundcore Life Q30's. I have gotten compliments on the stickers many times! You could put halloween stickers on yours or decorate your headphones in other ways! I've seen people crochet horns onto the headband portion of their headphones.

4. I would recommend any chronically ill person carry a cup around to stay hydrated:

ESPECIALLY If you need electrolytes. You can either have a drink like propel or powerade in your cup (or any drink of your choice, and you could put electrolyte packets in there).

This specific cup isn't the best at keeping my drink cold, but it holds a decent amount of liquid! And it's spooky. If you're someone who struggles to drink enough water, I've found that getting a fun cup helps me a lot!

5. Make communication bracelets!

If I'm having a difficult time voicing my needs, or I'm in a verbal shutdown, these bracelets can come in handy for me.

I'll either wear them on my wrist when needed or present them to my friends so they can read the bracelet and understand what I need. I keep them on a keychain that way I dont lose them and can transport them easily. An example of some of the phrases I've turned into bracelets is; "No spoons," "spoon debt," "verbal shutdown," and "flashbacks," (for when I'm having a PTSD episode.) You could make a bracelet with the medical condition you have as a DIY medical-alert bracelet. I added tiny spoon charms to some of my bracelets because I thought it was funny.

5. Mobility aids!

Decorate your mobility aids with things like stickers, kandi, lights, etc! Pinterest, instagram, and tiktok have a lot of good ideas. You can easily customize your mobility aids to look spooky or look however you want them to!

6. Bags!

I know that for me, I NEED to carry a bag around whenever I go out because it has important medical items that I need, but it also keeps all my important items like keys, id, ect, in one spot so that I dont forget / lose them. SOME spooky bags are expensive, but you could find a plain black bag at a thrift store or walmart and accessorize it with patches, keychains, and pins! I've seen people paint designs onto their bags before as well.

• You dont have to spend a lot of money on your accessibility tools!

Find ways to DIY them, or get them secondhand! You could even try working with household items you already have! A lot of these items, or items very similar to it, can be found at the dollar tree - even the materials needed to make the beaded bracelets! (Outside of the spoon charms)

Thats all!

If I think of more, you'll see me again! Be spooky, and be kind to yourself!

[ed-recoverry]

Please check out your local library!!

I volunteered at a library this summer where my main tasks were returning books and organizing. Here’s some common books I saw tons of in the library that you can get for free!

Cooking. So much cooking. All kinds of foods, dietary limitations, and cultural specific.

Crafts (sewing, crocheting, knitting, painting, decorating, pottery, drawing, and cross stitching are what I can remember just off the top of my head. So many)

ESL/learning English

Foreign language learning

Financial advice

So many “___ for idiots”

Destinations / countries

Mental health / disorders (and recovery)

Music (including sheet music)

Classics (the ones you see read in high school)

Test prep (including SAT, ACT, PSAT, ect)

Gardening / how to grow stuff

Pet care

Child care

Illness information / coping

Disability information / coping

Both specific and general historical topics (From just the history of America in general, the history of a certain group of people, to history of certain events, ect.)

Most hobbies.

Religion

How-to’s and guides

Audio books and movies are usually available in the hundreds. Popular books and movies are accessible.

It’s usually disability friendly and most are also offering free games and devices to borrow.

Most also have computers where if you are looking for a certain book, it will tell you where it is in the library or which nearby libraries do have that book.

Fiction books are also abundant and usually the genre is labeled on the spine.

Even if you don’t want to take a book out, you can sit there all day and just read a book. It’s a good, quiet place for those stuck in a chaotic situation. It usually has AC/heat, bathrooms, and water fountains too. As long as you’re not a snorer, no one really cares if you even take a nap.

Overall, I cannot recommend libraries enough. People really think why go when you have the internet, but it really has everything and an immediate option so you don’t have to search. And, once again, free!

Libraries, especially in more conservative areas, are getting less and less funding and more and more restriction on books with content regarding LGBTQ+, black history/authors, and safe sex. Donate to your local library. Visit. Check out what is there. There literally is no negative!!

[wonijinjin]

doctor seventeen with a s/o who has a weak immune system

synopsis: what the title says.

word count: 0.7k | genre: fluff, humour/crack | pairings: seventeen x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of being ill

texting and contacting you every day every minute: scoups, hoshi, dk, seungkwan, dino

these guys will check up on you a lot during the daytime, several times. you can expect messages like “drink your water throughout the day, I know you haven’t been drinking much. and please eat some fruits and vegetables too, they are perfect for your daily vitamin intake.” they will also not be shy to call or facetime you to check in and see how you are doing, especially in times when you are stressed about something, like school or work. they are the type to give you multiple lectures when you get sick or injured, like a parent scolding their child for their bad behaviour. “baby I told you to take your probiotics and vitamins regularly! taking one every few days isn’t going to make your immune system stronger! consistency is key we have talked about this so many times!” even though they are quite strict about these lectures their words always come from a place of love; they hate seeing you in pain, so they feel the need to prevent these events from happening with a good and detailed health lesson from time to time. “you know I don’t want to nag all the time, but you need to listen to me darling. I don’t like the idea of you catching the flu or any virus any time soon if I can do something about it.” their nagging can get annoying sometimes though, but hey, they are trying their best to protect you from the cruel world’s treats, so you will just have to accept it.

silent protectors: woozi, wonwoo, minghao, vernon

these guys’ love language when it comes to your health is definitely subtle acts of service; they are the ones who would go out of their way in order to prepare dinner for you to have a healthy meal when they know you didn’t have good food that day, or when you ate absolute garbage throughout your busy schedule. “come here sweetheart I ordered your favourite nutritious dish, have a taste!” they would offer sweetly, seeing how tired you are from working and running errands all day. they make sure you get enough rest during busy days as well; especially mentioning sleeping enough, since good sleep is an important part of keeping yourself healthy. “that’s enough for today, okay? you’ve got to sleep to give your system time to process everything that happened to it. you cannot stay healthy if you overwork yourself sweetheart.” however, these comments are not a frequent thing, they usually keep them to themselves since they know you are a fully capable human being who knows their limits (or at least they hope so). thanks to their observing nature they approach most situations like a regular person, only using their knowledgeable medical side if absolutely necessary.

the ones who adore and baby you a lot: joshua, jeonghan, jun, mingyu

now these guys just kind of adore the fact that you need to be taken care of a little bit more carefully than some others, since they have so much love to share and give to you. they are a mix of actions and vocally emphasising what to be wary of, for example you not thinking ahead when doing certain things. “baby I love the idea of dancing in the rain, but it is literally in the middle of the night, you know how the temperature gets. cannot let my baby freeze and catch a bug now, can I?” although they would rather you didn’t get sick it is also not uncommon to see them coo at you day and night when they do need to take you under their protective wings when you are under the weather. “say ah, here comes your soup.” they would spoon-feed you every single time. “next time I will have to wrap you in bubble wrap like a baby so this becomes evitable.” another thing they like to do since they know you tend to get sick easier is wrap you up in winter, seeing the warm layers on you easing their minds knowing that the cold won’t affect you nearly as severely as without them; this way even though they aren’t there with you all the time they can be sure that you are okay.

[theoryofthemultiverse]

Hoyo‘s Doctors as your psychiatrist/therapists:📋

Synopsis: A therapist/psychologist is a person that listens to your thoughts and feelings and resolves problems through talking. A psychiatrist on the other hand relies on medications to treat an mental illness.

Characters: Baizhu, Dr. Ratio, Il Dottore

AN:I love the trinity of them and since y’all enjoyed the sleeping headcanons I brought something new again! It’s kinda wholesome.

~•~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~•~~•~

Baizhu🐍

He is really listening to everything in such an empathic way, he tries his best to validate your feelings and it would be in his expertise to show you how to deal with them.

His priorities would lay in making you recognize how you feel about given situations and help you setting boundaries. He would also dive deeper into childhood events that caused certain behaviors and traumas.

I can kinda see him having a therapy animal(not just Changsheng, you can also cuddle her, but maybe he also has a fluffy cat, or dog) . Like a calm pet that will simply lay with you and help you relax so you open up to him (only if you wanted it tho, otherwise he’ll keep it away ;)

Without a doubt he would be on the therapist/psychologist side.

Dr. Ratio🎓

The problem solver par excellence.

He fairly doesn’t do much about your feelings. Don’t get me wrong, he will definitely listen to you tell him about them, and validate them. He will also take them into the equation of solving your problem, but his main focus would be to solve the problem and come up with ways to solve them, as well as ways how you can cope with them should they not be able to be solved at the given moment.

So while he kinda works more like a psychologist he would also have the qualifications to prescribe some medication, yet if he would feel like he needs someone with a broader spectrum on that topic he would send you to:

Il Dottore🧪

Out of all 3 probably the one that is mostly focused on treating the problem through medications, so leaning towards psychiatrist.

But he is hella good at that, like really, that man knows so many substances that there are no limits to finding the perfect description. In 90% of the time he gets a perfect substance for your problems, but in the other 10%? Don’t worry about coming to him and telling him the medication didn’t do what you would have hoped it would do. He will probably find something better then according to the symptoms you mention.

If you were discouraged by one kind of medicine not working he would subtly try to make you feel better by blaming him,or the medicine in a humorous way so you see it’s not your fault for the medicine not working.

„Really it’s not your fault the stupid medicine didn’t take effect. I should have just known better and taken -sets new medicine on the table- this one all along.“

[blossom-hwa]

a very fine line, indeed [6] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre:  fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 11k notes:  — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true.  Part 5 >> Part 6 >> Part 7

Series Masterlist | TXT Masterlist

When Beomgyu wakes up in the morning, he decides he is never going to sleep again. 

Not truly, of course. Even in school he was never able to stay up all night to study, something Taehyun did often with ease. But if his sleep is going to be as restless as it has been for the past two weeks, then he’d almost rather not sleep at all so that the dreams can’t find him. 

The dreams are what really are going to kill him. 

How many times will Beomgyu have to relive that kiss—the moments before, the awkwardness after? How many times must he feel your lips against his, hear your little moans into his mouth, see your eyes fluttered shut as he holds you to him closely, so closely? Not to mention when his dreams go a little further than reality did and he ends up even closer to you than he ever could have imagined before…

God, he thinks about you too much. Dreams about you too much. Through his dreams alone Beomgyu almost thinks he could trace the planes of your face, your neck, your torso, onto paper, or shape it from a lump of clay. He sees you nearly every day, if not in person, then through visions at night. 

It’s torture. 

Beomgyu groans, rolling over in his bed. He’s never thought of a single person this way—never wanted anyone like this—and it’s screwing up his whole life. He doesn’t know how he survived the Bridgerton ball without you noticing anything. The entire time you were dancing, he could hardly stop thinking about kissing you right then and there. 

He was so grateful, too, when you spoke to him of being friends. Of truly leaving your grudges in the past, and continuing to see each other not for the sake of the deal but just for being friendly with one another. He certainly didn’t have the courage to say anything about it which just makes you even more admirable in his estimation, not to mention that you did all that while apparently being terrified that he would view you with derision if you tried. 

Did you enjoy his company that much? Did you truly like him so? 

Even the idea that the answer to those questions might yes makes him want to smile like a child in a candy shop, and that terrifies him. 

All of this terrifies him. It’s hardly an exaggeration. He’s come to so many realizations about you over the past few months that just thinking about all of it gives him a headache. You are not the person he once believed you were, just as he said at the Bridgerton ball. You are vivacious, you are kind, and you have a wicked sense of wit that keeps him easily entertained. You are intelligent, honorable, and lovely not only on the outside, but in your heart as well. You are far more than the arguments you used to have in years past. 

Beyond that, though, you like him. You wanted to be friends. And you were brave enough to admit it, even with years of hostility and distrust behind you, which means you cared for him on a level deeper than perhaps either of you ever believed possible. Beomgyu should feel over the moon because of this. 

Instead, he just finds himself wanting more. 

It’s the stupid kiss’s fault. He resists the urge to throw his pillow across the room. He shouldn’t have offered, shouldn’t have played along, shouldn’t have gone with you until it was too late, but—it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. You were going to stop seeing each other in less than a month. It shouldn’t have mattered to him or to you. 

Yet here he is, dreaming about the kiss, and wanting something more than friendship. 

Wanting. Beomgyu isn’t accustomed to want, as shameful as it is to say. He’s always been provided for, has always been given access to his basic needs and far more. He had a loving father and still has a loving mother. He has a wonderful brother, though he’ll never admit it, and his sister in law has only ever brought good things to his life. He has a good cousin. He has very good friends. He has never wanted anything more than what he currently has. 

But now…he wants you in a way that friendship won’t fulfill. And he doesn’t know what to do about it. 

He still doesn’t know what to do about it later that night when the family carriage pulls up in front of Lady Park’s home for a dinner party, the lights in her windows bright and warm and in stark contrast to the anxiety that’s been building in his blood throughout the entire day. You’re supposed to be here tonight and if Beomgyu knows anything about Lady Park, she’ll seat you two together for her own entertainment. Half of him rejoices. The other half of him wants to keel over and die.

“You look constipated,” Soobin says as the carriage rolls to a stop. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Beomgyu scowls, which probably makes him look even more constipated. He can’t tell Soobin that he’s nervous, because then he’d have to explain exactly why he’s nervous, and he isn’t ready to go into that with anyone. Not even himself. “I’m not constipated.”

“Good for you.” His brother’s wife smiles at him serenely and Beomgyu wonders exactly why he wanted them to get together so badly. They’re both menaces to him and to society and combined, they have some synergistic effect on him that’s more than awful. He almost wishes they would go back to pining for each other in secret. At least then they didn’t have time to tease him nearly as much. “Settle your expression so it doesn’t look like it, though, or Lady Park is going to have a field day with you.”

Beomgyu does manage to relax his face, but his mood improves very little as they enter the hall. In fact, it takes a downturn as he looks around and can’t find you among the small crowd of people milling about the entryway. On one hand this is a good thing—he doesn’t have to deal with your eyes staring back at him, your terribly kissable lips curving into smiles and frowns and every other micro-expression you have in your arsenal— but on the other hand, seeing you is half of the reason he’s here. 

“Mr. Choi!”

Ah. And there’s the other half of the reason. 

Beomgyu pastes a smile on his face that isn’t entirely faked as Lady Arina Park comes walking up, her cane thumping ominously on the ground. “Lady Park,” he says politely, bowing in greeting. Soobin and his wife have somehow managed to vanish and he curses them with every ounce of his being for leaving him to deal with her alone. “Thank you for inviting my family and I tonight.”

“Of course I invited you.” Her eyes glint, and Beomgyu is reminded why he finds this old woman so terrifying. She must be in her seventies or even her eighties, but even in her old age with her stooped walk and her cane, she remains as sharp as ever. Beomgyu shudders to wonder what a force she was in society when she was younger. “You, Mr. Choi, are one of the only people in this ton with an ounce of wit in their head. You were one of the first people I put on the invite list, along with that girl of yours…Miss L/N.” She clicks her tongue while Beomgyu just blinks. “What are the chances of you two bringing down the house tonight, Mr. Choi? Can I expect some marvelous entertainment from the two of you?”

“…We’re courting, Lady Park,” Beomgyu gets out. He’s almost certain she knew this already. 

“Oh, I already knew that.” She waves her hand dismissively and Beomgyu just feels stupid. “I wanted to hear it from your own tongue. I could hardly believe it when I found out, you know. Your, ah, discussions, had been my greatest entertainment in years.” She sighs, as though remembering some good old days, then leans in to Beomgyu almost conspiratorially. “Though I suppose it makes sense. The line between hatred and love is always finer than anyone believes it to be.”

“Love?” Beomgyu splutters. The wit that Lady Park mentioned before seems to have abandoned him entirely as he tries to remember how to breathe. “Lady Park, that is hardly—”

“Ah, is that your lady?” Lady Park’s eyes narrow on something behind him. Beomgyu turns to see you entering the hall, looking vaguely uncertain until you meet his eyes. Your expression breaks into a smile that only grows wider when you see the woman standing next to him. 

“She’s hardly my lady,” Beomgyu says, though he can’t hide his own smile at seeing you. 

“Delusion doesn’t suit you, Mr. Choi.” And as he’s reeling from that statement, she thumps her cane against the floor and grabs his arm with surprising strength. “I believe I will accompany you to her. I should like to speak to the girl myself.” 

Beomgyu tries to convey his apology through his eyes as the two of you draw near, but you don’t seem to be the slightest bit terrified or even hesitant to see Lady Park hanging off his arm. “Lady Park. Mr. Choi.” You curtsy, the smile on your face unwavering. “Lovely to see you both.”

“And lovely to see you too, my dear.” Lady Park reaches out to give you a fond sort of pat on the cheek and Beomgyu just gapes. He’s never seen her outwardly display such affection before. “I was just telling Mr. Choi that I should like to see some entertainment from the two of you tonight.”

You blink. “Um, Lady Park. We are courting.”

“I know that,” she huffs. “Why is it that both of you seem to think I am daft?” Before either of you can apologize, though, she’s plowing on with her next comment. “Watching you interact is already marvelous enough. I never thought I would see the day that you two could stand in the same room civilly, let alone be courting. And I have been in society with you two for over twenty years!” 

Beomgyu has no idea what to say to that. Judging by your expression, you don’t seem to either. 

“I could shed a tear.” Lady Park lets go of Beomgyu’s arm—damn, he didn’t realize how tight her grip was until it was gone—to wipe something away from the corner of her eye. Beomgyu would bet five quid that it was fake. “That two of the people in this ton with a reasonable amount of wit should court and potentially raise families that will be surely be the ton’s sole source of intelligence from now and forever on…oh, if I were capable of crying in my old age, I would already be doing it by now.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Beomgyu would try to help, but he is still trying to process the fact that Lady Park expects you two to raise a family. 

“With all due respect, Lady Park,” you finally say, a carefully blank smile affixed to your expression, “I think you might be getting somewhat ahead of yourself here.”

“I am never ahead of myself, Miss L/N.” She sniffs. “I say what I see how I see it.”

For some reason, Beomgyu almost laughs. “That was never in doubt, my lady.”

“Take care to keep it that way.” She gives him a threatening little smile that, despite her age, makes Beomgyu want to take a step back. “Well, Mr. Choi, Miss L/N, I should love to stay in your company for the rest of the night—” Beomgyu hardly bites back a shudder—“but alas, my duties as a hostess precede me. Mr. Choi.” She turns to him sharply. “Do take care not to offend Miss L/N. I do not believe I need to be the one to tell you that letting her go would be the biggest mistake of your short life.” With a parting whack of her cane to his calves, she disappears into the crowd, leaving Beomgyu to stumble forward with the force of her smack almost right into you. 

“Careful,” you say, steadying him with a hand. Your eyes twinkle. “How hard did she hit you?”

“Hard enough,” he mutters, trying not to fall over again at the touch of your skin against his. God, between Lady Park saying he’d be remiss to lose you and her speculations about a possible family, he’s losing his mind. “Apologies for letting her accost you. She insisted on accompanying me the moment she saw you.”

“No apologies needed. I quite like her.” You grin. “Do you not?”

“I certainly don’t dislike her,” Beomgyu replies. He shudders a little. “But you can’t deny that she’s terrifying.”

“In the best of ways,” you agree. “She’s hilariously witty. I want to be like her when I’m older.”

Beomgyu glances at you sidelong. “I don’t think you’ll have much trouble with that.”

“…I’ll take that as a compliment.” You take his proffered arm. Beomgyu tries very, very hard not to notice the way your lips curve when you smile anyway. “I like her.”

“She also seems to like you.” He raises an eyebrow. “If her saying that I would be an idiot to lose you is anything to go by.”

“And that might be the greatest compliment of all.” You turn a little towards the crowd and Beomgyu’s heart does a little skip of panic when you tug his arm and it feels as though you might pull away. Good Lord, he needs to get a hold of himself—he’s gone two weeks without you suspecting anything strange on his part and he doesn’t intend to break that streak anytime soon, at least not before he’s figured out his own thoughts first. You don’t let go anyway so he feels stupid for panicking in the first place. “It looks like everyone is going inside,” you say, apparently oblivious to his internal turmoil. “Shall we follow them to dinner?”

Beomgyu survives the meal. He survives sitting next to you for the best part of two hours, watching you eat and talk all the while with that lovely smile on your face. He survives having to talk to you for the entire two hours and doesn’t spit out any food every time he remembers that Lady Park expects you two to have a family, to have children. 

What he very nearly does not survive, however, is when he is talking to you in the drawing room when the men have rejoined the women after they’ve drunk their port, and Lord Cho comes up to steal you away from the conversation. 

Beomgyu notices him eyeing you first from across the room. “Lord Cho incoming,” he says, and he only manages a half smile to indicate that this is a joke. Or at least that it was meant to be, because he doesn’t feel much like smiling. 

You glance at him. “I don’t understand why you don’t like him,” you say frankly. “He’s very nice. At least he seems genuinely interested when he speaks to me, unlike many others I could name.”

Beomgyu shrugs. He wishes he knew why too, but he can’t exactly explain why Lord Cho gives him that slightly slimy feeling that puts him off so. Outwardly there was nothing amiss with their conversation the first and only time they spoke, but everything about it still felt all wrong. “He seems nice,” he agrees. “But just because he’s nice doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take precaution as you do with all the other men who might seek your hand.”

“As I should have done with you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. A teasing smile plays on your lips and in a moment of weakness, Beomgyu imagines kissing it off. 

He pinches himself hard. Maybe he needs to get a brain replacement. “Well, I think you have already seen many of the worst parts of me,” he says superciliously. You laugh and he preens a little for having been the cause of it. “So I don’t know how much more precaution you must take around me. You have already proven yourself quite capable of fighting back.”

“Might I take that as a compliment?” 

Despite himself, Beomgyu smiles. “Yes, you may.”

“Then I’ll thank you for that.” You take the last sip of water from your glass and place it on a nearby empty tray. “And I’ll take your advice, Beomgyu. I appreciate it, though I don’t know how warranted it is.”

Beomgyu tamps down the stupid thrill that rushes up his spine when he hears his name from your voice. It’s not that hard to hide this time, not with Lord Cho’s approach dimming his mood already. “Just be careful, is all,” he says quietly, just before Lord Cho makes the last step into conversational range. 

“Miss L/N. Mr. Choi.” Lord Cho makes a polite bow. Against his will, Beomgyu moves slightly to include him in your small group. “I haven’t had the chance to speak to either of you tonight.”

“A pity that Lady Park had us seated on opposite ends of the table,” Beomgyu says, not really meaning it. 

You shoot him a sidelong glance which tells him you heard all of the indifference in his tone, but he doesn’t really care. You look more amused than annoyed with him, anyway. “A pity indeed,” you echo, giving a short curtsy. “How are you, Lord Cho? You look rather well.”

“Better now that you’ve been so kind to me.” Lord Cho smiles, and Beomgyu fights the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe this is why he doesn’t like Lord Cho—he’s never been one to stomach flirting, at least not as outright as this. “It seems Mr. Choi has quite kept your attentions this evening. Would it be remiss if I stole some of your time?”

“Of course not.” You smile prettily before taking his arm. “Mr. Choi, I shall see you later tonight or sometime soon, I am sure.”

“And I, you,” he says, smiling directly at you. He doesn’t bother looking at Lord Cho and the other man doesn’t seem to care as he turns you to another corner of the room. Beomgyu watches you leave on his arm, then decides he doesn’t care much for the scene and goes to get another glass of whiskey. He suddenly very much feels like he needs it. 

Soobin sidles up to him as he picks up a glass from a servant’s passing tray. “Well, you look like you have a mouthful of sour grapes,” he says, and Beomgyu nearly spills his drink all over both of them. “Hey, watch out!”

“You watch out,” Beomgyu hisses, cradling the glass to his chest. “You’re the one who startled me.”

“Well, if you weren’t so busy glaring holes into Lord Cho’s back, you might have noticed me approaching.” Soobin sniffs. “What did he do to you this time?”

Beomgyu groans. “Of course she told you.”

“What, my wife? She tells me everything.” Soobin smirks. “Including that you might have felt a pinch of jealousy towards the man who’s talking to the woman you’ve decided to court this season.” 

Annoying as Soobin is, his words throw a splash of cold water over Beomgyu’s thoughts. He isn’t courting you. Not really. Even though you decided to continue seeing each other, it isn’t because you wanted him to pursue you for real. It was because you wanted to be friends. He has no business feeling like this, wanting to kiss you, feeling annoyed when someone else steals you away. He can’t even put it down to just blatant uneasiness about Lord Cho anymore because even if that unease might still exist, to say that there is no jealousy whatsoever would just be a lie. “I regret the two of you ever realizing your feelings for each other,” is all he manages to say around the sick feeling growing in his stomach. 

“You’re the one who complained about suffering in silence amidst all the pining,” Soobin points out. “Though if I may—”

“You may not.”

“—I’d say I understand your frustration, now.” Soobin glances across the room where you’re chatting animatedly with Lord Cho and a few others, then back at Beomgyu. “This tension is unbearable.”

“There is no tension,” Beomgyu snaps. 

“Beomgyu, I may not have your gift for discerning personalities at a glance, but I’m not daft.” Soobin fixes him with a deadpan stare. “You clearly feel something for the girl. Whether that feeling is a simple interest or something more, I will not presume—I would like to believe you know yourself better than I—but there is something there. I only wonder why you have done nothing about it yet.”

Oh, if only he knew. Beomgyu barely suppresses a scoff. “And you are so knowledgeable about love?” he snaps. He’s lashing out because he’s angry and frustrated, he knows, but in this moment, God he doesn’t care. “It took you years to realize that you were in love with your wife!”

Surprisingly, Soobin looks more amused by Beomgyu’s outburst than angry at his tone. “First of all, I never said anything about love.” He waits a moment for Beomgyu’s spluttering to stop, then continues. “Second of all, though it may have taken me a long time, at least I did realize it in the end.”

Beomgyu raises a sardonic eyebrow. “And how, exactly, did you realize it?”

“I realized that every moment I was away, I wanted to be with her,” Soobin says seriously, either not hearing or completely ignoring Beomgyu’s sarcastic tone. Beomgyu is inclined to believe the latter option. “When I did not have her attention, I wanted it. When I was with her, I was happier than I believed I ever could be.”

Involuntarily, Beomgyu’s gaze flashes towards where you are speaking with Lord Cho right now, that pretty little smile on your face. His heart spasms and he finds himself with the passing thought that he’d much rather that smile be directed at him. That he dislikes that it’s being directed at someone else. Specifically Lord Cho. 

“I do not claim to know your heart or your thoughts with any certainty,” Soobin says. From the way he’s looking at him, Beomgyu gathers that he noticed the glance. “But I would implore you to make any decisions you need to make before it is too late. And, Beomgyu.” He smiles teasingly, which Beomgyu does not appreciate for even a second. “It would do you well to remember that the line between hatred and love can be a very fine line, indeed.”

. . . . .

After the fifth time you stab yourself with a needle, Soyoung removes the embroidery from your hands. You barely put up a struggle. It’s late, it’s dark, and all you can really do is stare at the small bead of blood welling up from the pad of your finger, deep red in the flickering candlelight. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Soyoung asks. You’ve always liked working with her in the dark of night—she becomes more casual, lets her words and laughter flow more easily as though the darkness erases some of the social barriers between you two. But right now, you wish you were alone. Your thoughts are hard enough to unravel as it is. You don’t know how to explain any of it to yourself, much less to someone else. 

“Nothing.” You shake yourself out of your daze and reach for your embroidery. Another dress, hopefully one of the last you’ll have to remake for the season—you’re not sure you have it in you to put together much more before the season is out. Each one already takes up so much time. “Soyoung, please give it back.”

She narrows her eyes at you. You’d smile if you weren’t so tired. “Not until you tell me what is bothering you so, Miss L/N,” she finally says, though she slides you a small towel to wipe off your finger. “You’re usually never this careless, especially not with your own clothing.”

Suddenly you’re tired. So tired. Between the whirlwind of society events and doing the household chores and keeping up your ruse with Mr. Choi—Beomgyu—you’ve barely had a moment’s time to truly relax. To breathe. You barely have time to sleep. Makeup can only hide your dark circles so many times and you’re already running out of your concealing powder. You’ve counted the remnants of your pin money and you hate the amount you’re going to have to set aside for more powder but there’s no choice but to do it. And what little time you do have to yourself after the days are all done and over now has to be spent on refurbishing your old gowns because you have no money to buy new ones. 

All of this, and you still have to contend with emotions. Feelings. Desires and wants that you have no right to have and that you really don’t want to have, but that you do anyway. It is an incredibly annoying situation and you are tired of having to deal with said emotions, because they are really getting in the way of things that are very important. Like marriage.

You try to put your face in your hands and very nearly poke your eye out with the needle you’re still holding. You can’t even muster the energy to glare at it, not in light of yesterday’s events. When you accepted Lord Cho’s invitation to promenade that afternoon, you had thought little of it. He’s a suitor. A nice one at that. This is normal. To be expected. 

You did not expect him to hint at a proposal. 

Everything logical tells you that you should be happy about this. After two seasons of despairing you will ever be married, you finally have a hint that you will really receive a proposal from a very eligible gentleman who will be certain to take you far from this place. You want to be happy. You really do. But you aren’t, at least not nearly as much as you should be, and you don’t know why. 

Actually, that’s a lie. You know exactly why. You wanted someone else to propose. 

You wanted Beomgyu to propose. 

Which is—insanity. Your courtship isn’t even real. It doesn’t matter if you are friends now—none of the presents, none of the dances, none of that meant anything. Not even the kiss. You knew you had felt something after the kiss but you put it down to it quite literally being the first time you kissed someone. Of course anyone would feel butterflies in their stomach for days after that. Right? Right. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to matter if that’s true. What does matter is that the kiss wasn’t apparently just a kiss for you. 

Candlelight flickers in the dark, throwing strange shadows on Soyoung’s face. “Miss L/N?” she asks softly. 

You feel close to tears. It’s too late and it’s too dark and you’re feeling far too many things right now for you to process. You should be happy to marry Lord Cho, so happy. But now all you can feel is dread for the next time you will see him, because while you know the answer you will give him must be in the affirmative, you know that you won’t be happy with it. 

When did you start feeling this way about Beomgyu? When did you start liking him beyond just the basic acquaintanceship, then the tentative friendship? When did you start wondering, however subconsciously, whether you could live a life with him that wouldn’t just be filled with screaming and arguments? It wasn’t just the kiss. That may have been the final straw. But you know yourself, and you must be honest with yourself right now, and you know that that wasn’t when it all started. 

Maybe it will begin to make sense if you try to speak of it.

You choose your words very carefully. “I may receive a proposal in a short time.”

Soyoung’s entire face lights up. “Oh, truly? That is wonderful!” Her voice feels brighter than the candle and it makes you head hurt a little. “I was honestly expecting it since you’d been spending so much time with him, but now that Mr. Choi has all but confirmed it—”

Mr. Choi?

“Soyoung.” You interrupt her excited exclamation, a very strange feeling in your stomach. “Soyoung, why do you think it was Mr. Choi?”

She stops midway through a word, her mouth still open like she plans to finish it. You watch her open and close it several times in the ensuing silence, her expression morphing into confusion. “Is it not?” she finally asks. Her voice is much smaller.

“No.” You shake your head. “It was Lord Cho.”

“…Oh.” She doesn’t sound so enthused about him, and that reaction just intensifies the strange, sick feeling still roiling in your stomach. 

You two sit in silence for a moment. Soyoung’s hand has gone slack, but you can’t find it in you to take your embroidery back. You probably wouldn’t even be able to do anything with it even if you had it—at least nothing beyond stabbing yourself another five times on accident. “Do you not like Lord Cho?” you eventually ask, though you’re not sure you want to hear the answer. 

“It’s not that I don’t like him!” Soyoung frantically shakes her head. “He seems to be a nice man. But that one time he asked about Mr. Choi…”

You remember that moment and how uncomfortable it was. How cornered you felt, how the intensity in Lord Cho’s voice and eyes made you tense up in…not fear, not exactly, but wariness at the least. You didn’t enjoy that conversation even after the tension was cut. Soyoung was there and confirmed then and now that whatever that was, it wasn’t normal. 

But it only happened once. Lord Cho has never given you any reason to be wary of him since, and if it weren’t for Beomgyu’s insistence that you remain on your guard you’d probably have relaxed around him entirely by now. He wouldn’t hurt you, you’re sure. At least not in the way that Mr. Thompson would. And anyway, it is entirely understandable that one suitor might be wary or want to know more about another. While you may not have appreciated the way Lord Cho went about to get that information, you think you can understand why he did it. 

So why does Soyoung still have so many apprehensions?

“It was only one time,” you say, uneasy. “You’ve been with me and him before. He hasn’t done anything strange since.”

“Yes, but…” Soyoung looks down, fiddling with her needle and a little bit of thread. “I don’t know. You do seem happy around him. He seems to be a good man. You would likely be very happy if you married him.”

For all the certainty of Soyoung’s words, her voice only thinly hides a current of wariness just beneath the surface. You debate for a moment whether or not to press her on the topic—have her explain why she dislikes Lord Cho so. But you decide not to. She doesn’t seem to know herself. 

It reminds you of Beomgyu, when he was trying to explain the same thing to you. 

You return to your original question. “Why did you think it was Mr. Choi?”

“Well, you just…you just always seemed so happy around him. Not always in the beginning, but even then, you were always…yourself.” She glances around the room like she’s afraid someone else will hear. “Even when you were arguing. You didn’t try to hide that part of yourself like you would have around others. And when you were just talking with him, your smiles were genuine. You didn’t try to be pretty around him the way you do with Lord Cho. Especially recently, whenever you look at him…I don’t know. You look at him like he’s the only one in the room."

The sick feeling in your stomach intensifies. You feel like you might throw up. 

“And he looks at you the same way,” Soyoung continues, apparently oblivious to your growing sense of dread. “He didn’t do it before but now he’s always smiling, even when you two argue. It seems like he’s not arguing with you to hurt you anymore. It’s more like…he just wants to keep talking to you. No matter what.” She pauses, and then her voice lowers. “He gave you gloves.”

Stricken, you can barely even nod to confirm her statement. 

“I don’t know who would perform such a gesture for anyone they didn’t love,” Soyoung says, almost as though she’s in awe. “When I saw that, I just…I thought there was no way he didn’t love you then.”

You seriously might throw up. You—you tricked her. You tricked Soyoung. You tricked the whole ton—you knew you would, that was the entire plan, but somehow, hearing it from Soyoung, one of your closest friends, that she really thought you were in love…

Suddenly you can’t stand it. 

“It wasn’t real.” You force the words out one by one, horrible relief coating your voice as Soyoung’s eyes widen. “None of it was real, Soyoung.” In as few sentences as you can, you tell her about the deal, about how you two conspired to trick the ton for the sake of winning you more suitors and discouraging his small army of followers, about how it succeeded. You don’t say anything about the kiss. You don’t say anything about being friends. 

You don’t say anything about the sick feeling in your stomach that rose to your chest when she said there was no way he didn’t love you. 

After you finish, silence descends upon the table. The candle burns low but you can’t move yourself to replace it, just watch the wax melt slowly, slowly, until the moon provides more light than the flame. Soyoung switches between staring at the candle and staring at you. She doesn’t say anything. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” you finally say, the warning rough in your throat. “I’m serious, Soyoung.”

She blinks. Shakes her head slightly, like shaking off a daze. “Of course I won’t,” she replies, and you immediately feel bad about doubting her. “I’m sorry. I just—it seemed so real.” She shakes her head again and you can’t tell if the disappointment in that movement is directed towards you or the situation at hand. Maybe both. “If I didn’t know that you would never lie to me, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

The room is too stifling. Too hot. Never mind that there’s only one candle barely burning and you’re wrapped in a blanket. You rise from your seat on stiff legs to open the window. The sudden burst of cold air hits you like a hammer and forces you to think. 

Soyoung’s words made you feel sick because they were true—at least on your end. You can say nothing about Beomgyu and how he feels. But it is true that you haven’t really felt that you had to hide anything around him. It’s just as he said before, as yourself have thought before—you’ve seen the worst of him and he’s seen the worst of you. There isn’t much left to hide if anything at all. You think less about your words, care less about your appearance—you certainly feel freer around him, more able to express yourself than around anyone else. 

You swallow. Soyoung said you never tried to be “pretty” around him, like you did with Lord Cho. You unfortunately do have an idea of what she means. To nearly everyone in the ton, you are just a pretty face with no dowry to accompany it, which means you’ve had to rely on that pretty face to get you where you need to be. It’s not extremely effective, which tells you exactly what you need to know about how much money is valued in this society, but that’s not the point. The point is that you’ve never been able to let that pretty little façade drop around anyone, because that is your main selling feature. Your beauty. 

Only you don’t have to hold that façade up around Beomgyu. 

Against your will, the kiss comes back to mind. Cool air rushes over your face but even then, your cheeks start to warm with the memory. God. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been idiotic enough to go down that train of thought with a man with whom you were about to separate in just a few short weeks. Instead, you got caught up in the moment, had your first kiss, dreamed about it for days (and unfortunately you are still dreaming of it), and then begged him to be your friend so you at least wouldn’t have to stop seeing him ever again. What kind of idiot does that?

An idiot in love. 

You grip the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Maybe you really are in love with him. 

The heavens really must be having a good laugh at you right now. 

“Miss L/N?” Soyoung’s voice brings you back to earth, the call of your name soft and uncertain. “Are you all right? It’s quite cold.”

You look down and realize that for all you felt stifled before, you’re now shivering under the blanket. You let Soyoung help you close the window and light a new candle. The flame dances cheerfully in the dark, a stark contrast to the emotions sitting in a solid, tangled lump behind your chest. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” you say again, voice far more ragged than before. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

“I won’t,” Soyoung promises. “On my honor, I won’t.”

That reminds you of another oath taken on someone else’s honor. An oath of silence when that person found out your deepest secret, the cracked and swollen secret hidden behind a thin layer of cotton fabric. 

You love him. You don’t love him. You might love him. The three statements bounce off the corners of your skull. Two of them are lies and only one of them you know for certain. 

“If Lord Cho proposes,” you mumble, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Soyoung looks at you sympathetically. “Miss L/N, I’m sure that when the time comes, you will do what is best for you.” The certainty in her voice only makes you feel a little better. 

Silence falls save for the clicking of needles and rustling of cloth. Soyoung doesn’t say anything more, and you stab yourself another five times before you finally give up and go to sleep.

. . . . .

Beomgyu shouldn’t have come tonight. 

Objectively, there is nothing wrong. The Haynesworths always host good parties, if not particularly interesting ones, and Beomgyu sees nothing to complain about this ball right now. Anyway, even if he did, it’s only their second year holding a ball for the ton. Flubs would be understandable and Beomgyu won’t insult them for it. But there are no flubs. The music is pleasant. The food is good. The decorations are nice.

What is wrong, however, is the fact that you have been attached to Lord Cho’s side the entire night. 

He arrived late, which wasn’t his fault—dinner with Kai, who just returned to London, took longer than expected. By the time he stepped into the ballroom, Kai at his side, you were already busily conversing with Lord Cho. The sight annoyed him slightly, but Kai was there and he didn’t want to ruin his friend’s night so he tried not to react. It didn’t matter—he would just find some other time to talk with you, and maybe dance. 

It's been just over three hours and Beomgyu has still not been able to speak to you once. 

He really thought it was just coincidence and bad timing during the first hour or so. Fine. Normal. Beomgyu came late and you kept getting whisked onto the dance floor by one person or another in between very long conversations with Lord Cho, so Beomgyu tucked himself away with Taehyun and Kai and caught up with his friend’s inheritance issues some more. He took to the dance floor a few times and enjoyed himself well enough. 

By the second hour, however, he was starting to suspect Lord Cho was keeping you sequestered away on purpose. 

It can’t just be coincidence that every time Beomgyu leaves the dance floor, you and Lord Cho are deep in conversation on the entire other side of the ballroom. It can’t just be bad timing that every time Beomgyu tries to make eye contact with you, Lord Cho hands you another glass of lemonade or guides you to another area of the room. As the second hour passes and the third hour rolls around, Beomgyu is grinding his teeth visibly and Kai is starting to look slightly concerned. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Beomgyu hears Kai whisper. 

“I don’t know.” Taehyun shrugs. “What’s wrong with you, Beomgyu?”

Beomgyu does not answer. You just laughed at something Lord Cho said, and he feels vaguely sick. 

“Ah.” Taehyun has apparently come to a conclusion even without Beomgyu saying anything. “He’s jealous.”

Kai frowns. “Jealous?” he asks, at the same time Beomgyu snaps, “I’m not jealous.” 

Taehyun ignores him, which he’s had ample practice with since they went to school together for almost ten years. It does not make Beomgyu feel any better. “Beomgyu here used to have a mortal enemy,” he says sagely, as though Kai isn’t completely aware of the previous animosity between the two of you. “That used to be Miss L/N over there.”

“…I’m aware.” Kai looks even more confused. “Why is he jealous of her?”

“I’m not—”

“They started courting this season,” Taehyun says, evil delight coating his every word as an irritatingly pleasant expression remains on his face. “Apparently they’ve put their past behind them, or something. They’ve become quite attached at the hip especially recently, but because Miss L/N is quite beautiful, of course she has other suitors trying to win her hand.” He gestures slightly at you. “Voila, Beomgyu is very jealous of Lord Cho.”

“…Just how much did you omit from your letters when I was abroad?”

“Quite a bit. Sometimes, telling stories via letter just isn’t as impactful as telling them in person.” Taehyun is still wearing that easy smile and Beomgyu is feeling the growing urge to punch it off his face. “Beomgyu, if you keep glaring at Lord Cho like that, you’re going to bore a hole in his head. Not to mention Whistledown will be scribbling terrible notes with her feathered pen to round out the gossip papers in a few days.”

With effort, Beomgyu looks away from Lord Cho. He still feels vaguely sick—his throat feels tight for some reason—so he takes a sip from his glass. “I’m not glaring at him,” he snaps. 

“You’re not now,” Taehyun agrees. “But you were.”

Beomgyu nearly screams. 

“Is there something wrong with Lord Cho?” Kai asks timidly. “You seem to hate him a lot more than you would if he was just a suitor.”

God, Beomgyu doesn’t want to go into this again. “I don’t like him,” he snaps with finality. “It isn’t just because he’s trying to court Miss L/N. He feels strange to me, and I don’t trust him. I wish I could tell you why.”

Kai looks at him strangely. “If I didn’t know you better,” he says slowly, “I’d say you were in love with the girl.”

Buzzing fills Beomgyu’s ears. The orchestra fades into white noise, the lights of the room suddenly too bright and loud against his eyes. Love, Kai had said. He didn’t hear wrong. He said the word love. And he said that Beomgyu was in love with you. 

Beomgyu blinks rapidly. Some of the spots clear out of his eyes but everything still seems too bright. “I beg your pardon.”

Taehyun steps forward, the previous humor drained from his expression. “Beomgyu,” he says quietly. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Of course.” The room is too bright and his head vaguely feels like it’s spinning and his stomach just dropped to his feet, but he’s fine. Completely fine. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Some of the sardonicism returns to Taehyun’s face. “I don’t know, maybe because when Kai said you might be in love with Miss L/N your entire face turned pale and you looked like you were about to keel over right then and there.”

Lies. Slander. There’s no way Beomgyu looked like that. “I’m not in love with Miss L/N,” he says emphatically, but even though that’s supposed to be true, every single word sounded wrong. 

“Then why do you care so much about her?” Taehyun presses. “Let us assume Lord Cho does not have the lady’s best interests at heart. I will grant it is normal to be concerned. But to stare at them for nearly three hours wearing that expression on your face?” He waves a hand at Beomgyu. “That is hardly expected of anyone.”

“Well, she’s not a monster,” Beomgyu snaps. “Of course I should care.”

“You used to talk about her like she was one,” Kai says, raising an eyebrow. “And Taehyun’s point wasn’t that you shouldn’t care. It’s that you care so much more for her than would be normal for an acquaintance or a friend who was simply concerned.”

Beomgyu flounders for a response. Taehyun takes the opportunity to go in for the kill. “So are you going to give us another reason why you are so jealous of Lord Cho you can’t even see straight?” he asks. “Or are we going to have to go with the very logical conclusion that you are in love with the girl, and resent him for keeping her away from you this entire evening?”

Almost involuntarily, Beomgyu glances across the room at you and Lord Cho. Several others have joined your group but you seem only to have eyes for him, standing close by with that bright, pretty smile on your face. Not once since an hour ago have you looked at Beomgyu. Not even once. 

Maybe…

Maybe it is jealousy. But if it’s jealousy, then where did it come from?

Against his will he recalls Soobin’s words from Lady Park’s gathering. 

“I realized that every moment I was away, I wanted to be with her. When I did not have her attention, I wanted it. When I was with her, I was happier than I believed I ever could be.”

“It would do you well to remember that the line between hatred and love can be a very fine line, indeed.”

Kai thinks he’s in love with you. Taehyun thinks the same. Soobin certainly seemed to be hinting at it. Beomgyu clutches his glass, feeling suddenly like the floor is tipping beneath his feet. Is he in love with you? Is he truly?

He blanches. The fact that he’s even considering their words says far more about him than he’d like to admit. 

“I need to go.” Beomgyu swallows hard and puts his half full glass on some empty tray. “To the washroom.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he starts pushing through the crowd. 

The washroom is quiet, empty. Beomgyu stands in front of the small basin and splashes water onto his face until he feels a little more alert. There’s a small mirror hung up above the basin and he looks into it, not really seeing his reflection, but contemplating it. 

These are the facts. Beomgyu likes you. He enjoys being your friend. At some point he disliked you very much, but most if not all of those feelings have disappeared. You are a good person. He is happy to know you. He is even happier that you have overturned your previous opinions about him, and that you like to be around him. He was upset at himself when he mentioned ending your courtship. He was overjoyed when you said you didn’t want the friendship to end. 

And yet he still felt like something was missing, even with all that hope and joy fluttering in his chest. 

Beomgyu swallows. There are still more facts to sort out. He kissed you. He wanted to kiss you. It was the only kiss that had ever made him feel something more, the only kiss that had ever made him want more. He dreamed and still dreams about the kiss and he doesn’t know why. 

Or does he?

He takes a deep breath and lets it out quickly. Slowly, slowly, he forces himself to consider the fact that he may be in love with you.

It unfortunately explains a lot of things. 

The jealousy. The dislike of Lord Cho beyond the fact that he seemed only to view you as chattel to win in marriage. The fantasies about the kiss, the constant dreams where the kiss morphs into something more. The desire to be with you, to be the reason you smile and laugh. 

Beomgyu splashes more water on his face. He can’t do this right now—maybe can’t do it ever. He can’t face the facts or even try to make sense of them. He needs to get out of here or else he’ll go insane. 

He wipes his hand on the roller towel and leaves the washroom. Kai and Taehyun are nowhere to be seen, which is annoying because he really should tell him he’s planning to leave. Beomgyu wades into the fray again, searching the crowd for his friends, but then his eye catches someone else’s. 

Lord Cho’s. 

It seems as though he’s frozen in time. Lord Cho regards him with an impassive gaze, Beomgyu still rooted to his spot halfway across the ballroom. For a moment neither of them reacts. 

Then Lord Cho smirks. 

All at once there is nothing in Beomgyu’s mind except the desire to punch this man into the floor. Unfortunately, an ounce of sense remains—just enough for him to know that that would be a terrible idea, one that would land him in Wooyoung’s bad books forever and possibly even the town jail for a night or two. 

Besides, there’s another way he might wipe the smile off Lord Cho’s face for an hour or two. 

He pushes through the crowd with singular ease, beelining right for where you stand next to Lord Cho, listening to something a nearby gentleman is saying. The man’s words falter as he sees Beomgyu walking towards them, and when he does, you turn to see who he’s looking at and meet Beomgyu’s eyes. 

Beomgyu would dearly love to give Lord Cho the cut, but years of politeness in society force him to give the man at least a small nod in greeting before turning directly to you. “Miss L/N, we haven’t spoken all night.” He doesn’t wait for a response, only extends his hand. “May I have the next dance?”

. . . . .

The next dance is a waltz.

Which—normally wouldn’t be a problem. You have to get permission to take to the floor for this dance—with all of the touching and close holds, it is still considered extremely scandalous even several years after it was introduced to the ton. To dance it with anyone who isn’t a close relative or betrothed could be social suicide. You’ve never had an issue with this, though, because you’ve never been given permission to dance the waltz, and you’ve never bothered to ask. 

Though today, you do have permission. Your mother is friends with Mrs. Haynesworth. She extended that permission as a token of friendship with the invitation to tonight’s ball, and while it might have been nice to think about it, you never planned to use it. No one has proposed to you, even if Lord Cho seems close to it. You have no close male relatives with whom it would be acceptable to dance. It doesn’t matter—you’ve always sat out the waltz and you planned to do the same tonight. 

But now Beomgyu stands before you, his hand extended, his mouth smiling but his eyes sharp, burning with a fire you have never seen before. You have no idea if he knows what the next dance is. You have no idea why he’s looking at you as though no one else in the room exists. 

Some of Soyoung’s words come back to you, from several nights ago. “You look at him like he’s the only one in the room,” she had said. “And he looks at you the same way.”

Beomgyu asked you for a dance. Not just any dance, but the waltz. You don’t believe Beomgyu is an idiot. You don’t believe he would have asked for the next dance if it didn’t mean anything to him. Nothing he does in society is without reason. So if he is asking you to waltz…

A stupid, burgeoning hope starts to burn in your chest. Might Soyoung’s words be true? Might he be in love with you, the same way you might be in love with him?

It’s like you watch yourself place your hand in Beomgyu’s, watch from above as he smiles as you with the force of ten thousand suns as he leads you onto the ballroom floor. People are watching, whispering, but you seem to hear none of them as he bows and you curtsy. You feel light, almost like you’re floating on air—you don’t seem to have any weight as Beomgyu effortlessly spins you through the opening bars of the dance. 

Watching the waltz before, you had never quite understood why it is considered as scandalous as the old-fashioned mamas of the ton make it out to be. Sure, it involved some more close contact than usual, but other than that you couldn’t see much of a difference from the other dances. 

Dancing it now, though, you see exactly why the waltz could lead to social ruin. 

Beomgyu’s hand rests lower on your back, just beneath your shoulder blade. Your bodies are almost flush together. Your hand, gingerly placed before on his shoulder, has since slid down his arm, and when you turn to face him, his eyes are barely a few inches from yours.

Your breath catches. From the looks of it, Beomgyu realizes, and a little smirk begins to curl his lips. 

You hate how attractive you find it. 

He spins you out and catches your other hand before you manage to fly away. Even though several feet now separate you two instead of mere handsbreadths his fingers curl around yours, so strong and steady as he pulls you back into his dancing embrace. His eyes still hold a hint of that fire from before and in your burgeoning hope, you allow yourself to wonder if he was perhaps…jealous. Envious, maybe, that another man had your attentions for so long. While you don’t love jealousy, it does make your heart flutter to think that he might care about you enough to care about that. 

Truth be told, you had been trying to get away from Lord Cho for some time. The first hour was nice, and you hadn’t seen Beomgyu at all during that time so you weren’t bothered. But while you like Lord Cho, and his friends are fine, the moment you saw Beomgyu, you wanted to go to him. You tried to make excuses time and time again to leave but someone always struck up another vein of conversation with you or asked you to dance, or Lord Cho easily sidestepped your request and led you to another area of the room to speak to someone else. 

It wasn’t unpleasant. But even then, at some point, you wished you were elsewhere. Though you couldn’t have dreamed that you would end up here in Beomgyu’s arms, waltzing the night away. 

Beomgyu catches you in the crook of his arm and lowers you into a slight dip that has you staring directly into his eyes. Your arm wraps around his shoulder, half as part of the dance and half to steady yourself on your jelly-like legs, and you can’t help it when your heart races even faster. Beomgyu’s breath whispers over your lips and suddenly it reminds you of the kiss. You almost trip over his foot when he pulls you back up. 

Judging from the way Beomgyu’s eyes flutter down to your lips, you’d say you weren’t the only one feeling the same way. 

As the waltz begins to wind to a close, you feel your face getting hotter as Beomgyu spins you once, twice, three times. You feel like you’re flying—your toes barely skimming the floor, your skirts whirling around your legs—your feet follow the one-two-three rhythm of the waltz with ease, your slippers tapping merrily against the floor. The song ends but you still have that rhythm in your blood and Beomgyu seems to realize that because he spins you out as the orchestra finishes, letting the momentum carry you into your deep curtsy. 

When you stand up, you’re smiling like no tomorrow, and nothing, you think, could ever induce that smile to fall. 

A smattering of polite applause comes from the outskirts of the ballroom. The sound reminds you that you and Beomgyu are not, in fact, the only people here and you almost jump. Were it not for Beomgyu’s hand in yours, you might have. As it stands, though, your heart begins to pound as you look out at the sea of faces whose expressions range from astonished to horrified and everything in between. 

It hits you what you’ve just done, then—danced a waltz, the most scandalous dance in polite society, with a man who wasn’t a close relative or even your betrothed fiancé. You knew that when you accepted Beomgyu’s invitation, but somehow, now that it’s over, it all feels so much more real. 

But you trusted him. You trusted Beomgyu to know what the dance was, and to know what it would mean both to you and to the ton. And when you look up at him now, precious hope cradled close to your chest, you wonder if he will do what you have wanted him to since…well, almost since Lord Cho hinted at a question he might ask the next time you were in more private company. 

You wonder if Beomgyu will ask you to marry him. 

It is a small hope. Maybe even a futile one. But though you thought it impossible over the past week, when you first realized you desired it so, now you think that maybe it wasn’t so impossible after all. Not with the way he looked at you when he asked you to dance. Not with how he treated you as he spun you across the floor. Not with the way he looks at you now…

Right?

You look at Beomgyu. He does not look back at you. With his head turned just so, you can’t tell what expression is on his face. For the first time since the end of the dance, true unease prickles your chest. You trusted Beomgyu so completely to be right, to do right, but why won’t he now look at you? Now, when it is most important? 

“Beomgyu?” 

At the sound of his name, he starts. And then he does look at you. But where you expected to see love, trust, that same fire that burnt in his eyes throughout the entire dance, now he just looks…

Blank. 

You swallow hard as dread begins to creep up your spine. “Beomgyu,” you say quietly, hoping your words will jerk him out of whatever daze he’s in. “That was…that was a waltz.”

Some of the clouds clear from his glassy eyes but not in the way you expect. He still looks mostly blank, and a little shaken—panicky, even. He takes a deep breath that rattles around his chest in a way that you’re not sure you like. “So it was,” he says, and the subtle tremble in his words only unsettles you more. 

You dare to glance at the gathered crowd. Even more people are staring now, eyes glued on your figure as mouths whisper behind pastel fans. Your heart beats even faster but not with excitement—instead, you feel like you might throw up. “You’re lucky I had permission to waltz,” you say, forcing a certain lightness into your voice. “What would you have done if I didn’t?”

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, because Beomgyu looks down at your still-linked hands and immediately lets go. 

A chill travels up your spine. Your hand suddenly feels incredibly cold, even though you felt so warm just minutes ago—the heat of Beomgyu’s palm against yours suddenly ripped away, only the cooling silk of your gloves left to caress your skin. Your fingers curl into each other, nails pinching through silk to bite into your palms as you try to rein in your trembling. 

You expected a witty answer. After all, that’s what Beomgyu is—wit and intellect rolled into one annoyingly handsome person. But the longer you look at him, the longer he says nothing, and the more you begin to realize that you’re waiting for a response he isn’t going to give. 

“Beomgyu?” you ask, voice a little more pleading this time. His face looks pale now, his skin a little clammy, and his eyes, while trained on you, don’t seem to see anything at all. “Beomgyu, is something—” You reach out, touching his hand with the tips of your fingers, and he flinches. 

You drop your arm immediately. “…Is something wrong?” you finish quietly.

Buzzing fills your ears in the silence that follows. The entire room is too bright and your heart has crept into your throat. Beomgyu’s face is becoming blurry in your vision and you really, really hope that doesn’t mean tears are coming. “Beomgyu?” you try one last time. 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns tail and pushes his way out of the room before you can react, almost running in his haste to get away. 

To get away from you. 

You stand there on the ballroom floor, alone, staring at the path he carved through the crowd when he left. He knocked one or two people over but you can hardly hear their grunts of pain over the buzzing in your ears. You’re starting to feel incredibly lightheaded and when you bring a hand up to touch your temple, one finger brushes against your eye and you feel the telltale wetness of tears. 

Damn. You’ve never cried in front of another person before, not to mention the entire ton. 

You look up to find every single person in the room staring right at you, and in that moment, two things hit you very suddenly. 

One. You are in love with Beomgyu Choi. 

Two. He just as good as left you at the altar. 

You suppress a hysterical laugh. As it stands, a strangled noise still manages to leave your lips as you contemplate the irony of it all. This is actually even worse than if he left you at the altar. At least then you would have been betrothed, and the blow to your reputation might have been softened by pity. Right now, though, you’re as good as ruined. A dirt poor, barely titled harlot who seduced an unmarried, unbetrothed gentleman into a waltz, only the most scandalous dance of the decade, and had the nerve to smile after it. 

Well, you certainly aren’t smiling now. 

The humiliation hits you hard and fast and the tears start flowing in earnest despite your attempts to blink them back. You were an idiot to believe Beomgyu could love you, an idiot to think he would ever want you beyond what any other man has ever wanted you for—your face, your beauty. You were an idiot to think anyone could ever want you for more than that. You were a fool, a bloody stupid fool, for thinking you might have been worth sacrificing his reputation for. 

You really trusted him. Trusted him, and his honor, because even when you hated him before you had never seen him act less than gentlemanly around anyone else. He kept your secret. He gave you gloves. You thought you could trust him and you fell in love, even, because of that trust. But now…

Embarrassment burns hot in your throat as you remember asking, practically begging him to be your friend. All because you couldn’t get a single stupid kiss out of your head. All because you held on to a stupid hope. All because you dared to want something more than you ever deserved to have—attachment. Care. Love. 

What an absolute fool you are. Just as your stepmother always said, you will never be worth such things. It was all you could do to try and secure a husband and look at where that got you. 

Desperation is a cruel mistress, and you are just another groveling subject at her feet. 

A choked noise rises from your throat and you clap a hand over your mouth to rein it in. Eyes burning with tears, you cut through the crowd just as Beomgyu did seconds or minutes or hours ago, fleeing into the night. No one follows. 

You find yourself in the Haynesworths’ rose garden. A small stone bench sits in a small clearing. The moon glows brightly overhead. It reminds you far too much of the night you struck a deal with the man who just left you on the ballroom floor. 

You sink to your knees in the grass and cry. 

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[holmsister]

The labru chess meme but like serious: why Kabru bets on Laios and wins

If you're like me (mentally ill (I can say that I'm diagnosed) about labru) you have seen several variations on this meme:

With Kabru and Laios. (To see a small collection of them, please click on the "labru chess meme" tag on this post). Would you like me to hyperanalyse this aspect of their dynamic to death and not even in a shippy manner, therefore sucking all of the fun out of the meme? Keep reading!

Spoilers for the whole manga ahead. Contains also a quantity of Winged Lion.

First of all: as noted several times, it's not that Laios is eating the pieces to win at chess, it's that he's hungry, chess pieces are available, and he thinks Kabru is a fellow chess piece eater as well. Because he offered him a chess piece. And kabru ate it. While still trying to play chess because he thinks Laios is playing chess in some novel way he wants to understand better. If you think I'm beating this metaphor to death now you haven't seen anything yet.

The thing is. Kabru's whole thing is about finding someone who can defeat the dungeon, whatever shape that takes. And Kabru knows he cannot do it. He lacks what it takes, again, whatever exactly that is. And at some point, he makes the call that Laios has that something.

What's that something? Well. He's eating the chess pieces.

In another post I have already talked about the parallels between Kabru and the Winged Lion. Without going into it again: I think that all things aside, those two have very similar types of intelligence. They're fascinated by people and finding out what motivates them. They can be manipulative and even cruel in the quest for what they believe to be the "good ending". And they both think their end can be achieved through Laios.

See, *those two* are playing chess. Have you ever played? It's a very ancient and noble game, you know, very storied.

Two opponents, Black and White, take turns moving pieces on a checkerboard according to rules that depend on the piece itself (Towers move only horizontally but of as many squares as they please, Pawns only of one square at a time and only move towards the opposite side of the board, Bishops move only diagonally, etc etc). Players can only move one piece per turn, once per turn. Two pieces cannot be in one square. When a player moves a piece in a square that is already taken by a piece of the opposing colour, the piece that was there already is "captured" and removed from the board. The rules are actually much more complicated but this is the barest bones.

I hear sometimes the win condition in chess being described as "capturing the King". That's not entirely it. The win condition in chess is putting the opposing King piece in checkmate, that is, in a position in which the King will be captured by the opposing player by the next turn no matter what moves either of them makes.

Chess matches between masters are notorious for being impossibly long. Some last YEARS. Not only that, it's possible to draw in chess - when none of the pieces on the board have legal moves left but nobody is in check. This condition is called a stalemate.

Since the pieces can move in limited ways, mathematically, it's possible to calculate a most efficient way to move them. In 1997, the AI (real AI, not the stuff that passes for AI nowadays) Deep Blue beat then chess world champion Garry Kasparov for the first time in what is considered a milestone achievement.

It's a complicated game with very set rules and almost infinite yet calculable possibilities, is what I'm getting at. It's why it's a favourite mental exercise for mathematicians and people with similar minds. It's a problem to solve in a certain number of steps according to certain rules. There's a solidity in chess reasoning - even when you're trying to guess your opponent strategy, you still know there are things they are NOT going to do. Like eating the pieces. That's why the meme is funny. I think. I've lost sight of what normal people find funny years ago.

This is the game Kabru and the Winged Lion are both in. They are both positioned to move in checkmate (conquering the dungeon/escaping the dungeon), but they have both reached a point in which they cannot move further on their own power. They're in stalemate and they know it. They both need Laios to move them out of the stalemate.

The difference is what they choose to do.

The Winged Lion treats Laios as another check piece. An important one for sure (the Queen, even. That's a chess joke AND a gay joke). But a piece he can manipulate, that moves around in predictable ways.

Kabru, however, has spent enough time chewing on chess pieces to realise thats not where Laios' potential really lies. What he does is step aside and leave the board to Laios. He says "OK, dude. Eat the damn pieces if you must. I trust you know what you're doing."

You see. There's no rule in chess about eating the pieces. I think. Maybe they added one. But still. Most people when teaching someone to play chess would not think to add "and don't eat the pieces!" There at the end because they will assume that goes without saying. It's an unspoken rule that when you are playing a game involving pieces on a board, the pieces are not for eating.

Laios, our beloved autism knight, needs his rules spoken. Otherwise he's just gonna do whatever comes to mind. And that's what he has that Kabru lacks, and what leads him to outsmarting the Winged Lion. Because he does not think in terms of rules and limits. He does not try to guess what's the catch. He does not go after the King.

When Laios figures out what the primary motivation of the Winged Lion is (wanting to eat wishes), he does not wonder about his wider plan. He stops and thinks. That makes human wishes sound so tasty, he thinks, that a creature so powerful can give up on its life of perfect bliss and immortality on another dimension to taste them. I wonder if I could eat them too. I wonder if I could eat away the Lion's desire to eat desires - I could kill two birds with one stone!

He doesn't know or care what the aim of the game is according to the rules. *His* aim now is to eat the Winged Lion's desire. Because it would solve things, because he wants to know how it tastes like, who knows, who cares. The point is: what's the fastest way to get at his aim?

Well. The Lion promises to turn him into his ideal monster... the same one he wrote about in his book. Maybe he can add a line about the monster being able to eat desires. That would work, right?

It's such a stupidly simple plan that almost has no right to work. Neither Kabru nor the WL think about it. Because of a variety of reasons, but most importantly, because *that's not in the rules*. The rules are: Laios makes a wish, the WL realises that wish, in exchange he gets Laios' body. Laios' wish: to be turned into his ultimate monster that he wrote about in his book. It goes without saying that he can't just go ahead and add whatever to the book description. Right?

Kabru would not have thought to add a line in the book in a MILLION years. The WL does not think to check if Laios added any strange condition. It's like using one wish of the genie to wish for infinite wishes - I mean yeah nobody SAID you couldnt do that but it's obvious right? It's basically cheating... Who does that? ...what's this? Laios, what are you eating? Spit the King out!

Ps: in Italian, the word for "capture" on a chessboard and the word for "eating" are one and the same.

[trans-axolotl]

and this is also why i think that any meaningful community building/advocacy/support around madness/neurodivergence/mental illness needs to be founded on principles of liberation and abolition, and that we need to be able to distinguish between people who are allies based on our shared values + goals, and between people who use some of the same language as us, but are fundamentally advocating for separate things.

One example I see a lot of is the idea of "lived experience" professionals, people who have a career in the mental health system and who also have some personal experience with mental illness. These professionals oftentimes will talk about their own negative experiences in the mental health system, and come into their careers with a genuine desire to improve the experience of patients. But their impact is incredibly limited by the system they have chosen to work in: the coercive elements of psychiatry incentivize professionals to buy into the existing power structures instead of disrupting them. And as a whole, many lived experience professionals end up getting exploited and tokenized by their employers and used as an attempt to make carceral psychiatry seem more palatable. Professionals in this dynamic are not working to effectively challenge the structural violence of their profession: they become complicit, even if they do also have good intentions and provide individual support.

(I do know some radical providers who have found innovative ways to fuck up the system and destabilize and shift power in their workplaces, but this is a very small number of providers and is not most of the lived experience providers I've talked with.)

Another example I see a lot in our spaces has to do with the evolution of the neurodiversity paradigm. I feel a very deep connection to the original conceptualization of neurodiversity and neurodivergent as coined by Kassiane Asasumasu, but in recent years I've seen a lot of people using neurodivergent language in a way that feels pretty dramatically different than the foundational principles. This isn't saying that people should stop using ND terminology or that all neurodivergent spaces are like this--rather, I just want to point out some trends I see in certain communities, both online and in my in personal life. Although people will often use neurodivergent language and on the surface, seem allied with concepts of deinstitutionalization, acceptance, etc, the values and structure in these community spaces often rely heavily on ideas of classification based in DSM, and build very prescriptive and rigid models for categorizing different types of neurodivergence in a way that ends up excluding some M/MI/ND people. Certain types of knowledge are valued over other types of knowledge, and certain diagnoses are prioritized as worthy of support over others. There's a lot of value placed on identifying and classifying many types of behaviors, beliefs, thoughts, actions, into specific categories, and a lack of solidarity between different diagnoses or the wider disability community.

Again, this isn't to say that ND terminology is bad or useless--I think it is an incredibly helpful explanatory model/shorthand for finding community and will call myself neurodivergent, and find a lot of value in community identification and sharing of wisdom. I just feel like it's important to realize that not every ND person, organization, or initiative, is actually invested in the project of fighting for our liberation.

when thinking about our activism, as abolitionists, it's important to be very specific about what our goals, values, and tactics are. For example, understanding the concept of non-reformist reforms helps us distinguish what immediate goals are useful, versus what reforms work to increase the carceral power of the psychiatric system. And when building our own value systems and trying to build alternative ways of caring for ourselves and our communities, we need to be able to evaluate what brings us closer to autonomy, freedom, and interdependence. I need people to understand that just because someone is also against psych hospitalization does not mean that they are also allies in the project of letting mad people live free, authentic, meaningful, and supported lives, and that oftentimes people's allyship is conditional on our willingness to conform to their ideas of a "good" mentally ill person.

[yamayuandadu]

Sorry If i am bothering you but i want to know what role did the wilderness and its animals play in Mesopotamian mythology?

I like answering questions about Mesopotamia which indicate genuine interest, so no need to worry.

The most straightforward answer would be that the wilderness was generally perceived negatively (see ex. Wiggermann’s Scenes From the Shadow Side). The steppe in particular was usually portrayed as a place where one can get robbed at best and as the dwelling of ghosts, demons and the like - or just straight up the underworld -  at worst. The mountains were frequently viewed as a site of confrontations between gods and their opponents but more neutral or even positive portrayals pop up in literature too. It’s also important to note that the marshlands were viewed pretty firmly positively. As for wild animals: by far the best overview of Mesopotamian zoology is offered by Jeremiah Peterson in his dissertation A Study of Sumerian Faunal Conception with a Focus on the Terms Pertaining to the Order Testudines. Niek Veldhuis’ Religion, Literature, and Scholarship: the Sumerian Composition Nanše and the Birds, with a Catalogue of Sumerian Bird Names is really good too. There’s also quite recent Entomological Knowledge in Ancient Mesopotamia by Vazrick Nazari but you should bear in mind the author is an entomologist, not an assyriologist, so some sections are… less than reliable and sources as old as from the 19th century, and as questionable as Paropola’s phantasmagoric visions,  are employed once the focus shifts away from identification of insects.

More under the cut.

Animals were generally seen as an essential part of the world outside human dwellings. Positive comparisons to certain taxa - wild and domestic cattle and lions - are very common in myths, royal hymns, and other genres. The bovine analogies are so popular in Mesopotamian texts that even scorpions could be metaphorically described as a sort of bull.

Demonic traits could be attributed to some animals viewed as dangerous: snakes, scorpions and dogs in particular. Additionally, omen texts indicate that ants were seen as messengers of Ereshkigal, presumably because their burrowing lifestyle made the Mesopotamians assume they could move all the way down to the underground land of the dead. Finding ants while digging foundations for a new building was therefore an ill omen; seeing flying red ants above a house, meanwhile, was a sign the owner is at the risk of being killed. Due to such risks, behavior of ants was sometimes observed by religious specialists, and some of the namburbi protective rituals specifically deal with them. Locusts were a bad omen too, but that’s a given. On the other hand, moths were viewed as bringers of good omens.

Some deities were associated with the wilderness, and broadly with animals dwelling there. Most notable examples are Ninkilim (addressed as “lord of the creatures”; his name was at times confused with ninka, “mongoose”, leading to the development of the idea that he was a deified mongoose himself), Sumugan (though he was associated with domestic animals too) and to a smaller degree Numushda, arguably. Ennugi, a minor courtier of Enlil, could be addressed as the creator of grubs, though a similar role is also attested for the mythical king Alulim; attestations are limited to incantations against field pests, though. For more context see here.

A special case is Nanshe. Two of the major literary texts focused on her focus on interactions between her and animals - Nanshe and the Birds and Home of the Fish. These belong to the subgenre called “enumeration literature”: while there is an actual plot, and deities are involved, the goal is mostly to fit as many terms from a single category into a single composition. As a result, Nanshe sounds… unusually passionate (fixated, even) on the core topics. I think it makes for really unique characterization but alas, as a major Mesopotamian deity who fits neither into questionable Bible takes nor into the madonna-whore complex she’s not getting anywhere in popculture. Something that’s generally missing from the Mesopotamian repertoire are myths involving anyone turning into an animal. There are two notable exceptions, Enlil and Namzitarra, which involves Enlil turning into a raven to test a devotee, and Dumuzi’s Dream, in which Dumuzi asks Utu to turn him into a gazelle to escape underworld gendarmes pursuing him.

Major gods were not theriomorphic, and with some small exceptions (Tishpak, whose skin is in one case described as green and scaly; Ishtaran, who might have been depicted with the lower body of a snake) didn’t even have any animal body parts. However, deified animals are nonetheless also attested - multiple examples of divine bulls are the main example, obviously (for instance Indagara, Buru, the borrowed Hurrian Sheri and Hurri, possibly Magiru, “obedient”), as expected divine lions also pop up every now then, but that’s not all.

There’s a number of deified birds, though most of them occur only in Early Dynastic sources which do not provide any real insights about their character. One example that comes to mind is the deity Kiki or Ninkiki (“lady of the kiki); we have no clue what sort of bird the kiki was though, other than that it was loud enough to be compared to the storm. Nirah is a deified snake.

Deified invertebrates are much less common but it’s still worth bringing up Eḫ, a member of the court of Nungal whose name is pretty semantically similar to English “bug” (though it might also specifically refer to a louse. There is also an either divine or demonic centipede, Ḫallulaya. Among the numerous ancestors of Enlil there is a pair named Engiriš and Ningiriš, “lord butterfly” and “lady butterfly”. It is often claimed that Uttu, the goddess of weaving, was portrayed as a deified spider, but the evidence is at best limited, see here and here for details. Peterson doesn’t list her among deified animals.

A mythical creature listed in enumerations of Ninurta’s enemies, kulianna (“friend of heaven”), might be a supernatural dragonfly, though it’s also possible it was imagined as something else altogether and the link to dragonflies is just the result of homophony with Akkadian kulīlu, “dragonfly”. For more detail see here, p. 89. In art there’s a fair number of depictions of animals behaving like humans, but the full context of such works remains poorly known. There’s a brief overview here from p. 237 onward. 

Especially in Assyria wild animals were customarily hunted by kings, and trophies acquired this way served as a way of showing off the extent of their dominion. It has been suggested that they could eventually acquire apotropaic qualities, as evidenced by the preparation of protective statues  of the apsasîtu, the burḫiš and the nāḫiru, sometimes interpreted as water buffalo, yak and whale. However, the meaning of these three terms remains uncertain, for some recent considerations see here.

[smokeys-house]

I've finished watching season 4 of Moominvalley, and with the comet special being the definitive capstone of the gutsy 2019 adaptation, I can now give a proper and solid opinion on the series as a whole.

I was right all along suck it losers (joke)

Anyway I'm going to give my review of the series now.

As I've often said prior, MV19 revels in the major moments of the moomins, but does nothing to earn them. This leaves a lot of what should feel impactful instead feeling hollow, at least for a long time fan like me. I've also thought since watching the first season of MV19 that British humor clashes inherently with the genuine nature of the moomins, the sarcasm and attitudes present throughout make for a more modern feeling adaptation, but removes a certain luster from the moomins themselves and the other characters in the valley. The jokes are dry and impassionate, and the moomins are anything but.

"Classic," a term you could very easily apply to the moomins as a whole, is a word that means "undiminished by time." In an attempt to modernize the moomins, nothing is gained, and rounding edges and shaving off sides to fit a cleaner shape only works if you have more material to start with. Removing pieces from a classic, polishing them and filing them down does not leave you with a classic, it leaves you with holes and gaps. The time allotted per episode and the amount of episodes in a season didn't leave enough room for this modernization, in fact it didn't leave enough room for the series to breathe, with season 4 being the most damning example of this with its abysmal pacing and, at best, serviceable writing. With odd things here or there like the moomins ostensibly being vegans until season 4, or the appearance of modern appliances like freezers in moominhouse, the worst of it all in my opinion is that these things feel less like creative choices and more like revisions that reek of exterior involvement. The whole "it's a gown, not a dress" thing in season 4 epitomizes this, when in the book it's stated firmly that it is a dress that the hemulen got from his aunt. And what was the deal with the angostura plant? Is knife versus a literal plant too violent? I'm not asking for the moomins to be edgy I'm just tired of pandering to advertiser's fears of anything potentially pointy or objectionable. Change can be good, but what purpose do these and the many other changes serve?

Now, adherence entirely to the limitations of the original moomin books or even the 90s series that many fans hold dear is not a recipe for success and should not be looked to as an aspiration in my opinion. Creativity and innovation breed success, but the recipes for the moomin stories are simple and elegant. In all, I don't think changing them should be considered a sin, but i do think we should be mindful of how we change them and what we change. Dr. Seuss's wife put her foot down on film adaptations of the property following some bad movies, and while I don't think MV19 hits that mark of awful it should serve as a cautionary tale toward working with beloved materials.

I should clarify, it was not bad. It was actually a fairly enjoyable romp through moominvalley's tales, and had enough for both fans and newcomers alike. It wasn't exactly what anyone was expecting, and often felt like it backtracked in terms of character progression. The interior of the series moreso mirrored things like family guy, wherein at the end of the episode, everything within it was capped off and shelved with a complete and simple narrative A plot/B plot to boot. I personally don't find that to be satisfying and I find it ill fitting of the moomins as a whole. I'll also mention as a pet peeve, snork being autistic is cool! But sniff being highly autistic coded and being treated routinely the way he is, and then LITERALLY magically giving him empathy only for it not to ever be relevant again is something I just can't overlook. This adaptation treats sniff SO poorly which is unbecoming of the moomins in my opinion, and the way this adaptation handles things like autistic characters or characters being "weird" and then preaching inclusivity really bothers me. Everyone's welcome! Until they're not. None of these characters seem to meet the values they're known for. There's a subtle casual cruelty in this adaptation that stems from the British humor, and that's generally what I mean about it clashing. Some might praise this as making the moomins more relatable or humanizing them, but I'll tell you point blank that that's not the intention, and that they're not meant to be like you and everyone else, that's kind of the whole point.

While I did say it had enough for fans and newcomers, I will say that in an attempt to capture the way the moomins is not only suitable for and enjoyed by all ages, MV19 does exactly the opposite. The writing and the humor especially seems intent on bridging the gap between all comers, however there's fairly little charm and the jokes seem largely to befit a very young audience, but the show itself does not feel suitably enjoyable or lesson based to suit the purpose of media for that young audience. Characterizations of characters like Moominpappa as a bumbling fool with an ego problem and characters like Mrs Fillyjonk becoming catch-alls for every and any fillyjonk character in the moomins, alongside the hemulen becoming this... legion of the the same guy entirely not specific to a single entity until it suits the narrative, these feel like budgetary constraints which in turn leave the viewer feeling like none of this matters. Everything's been reduced down to a few key components, components that often don't line up with the characters' origins, and there aren't any surprises waiting given that it costs a lot of time and money (that they apparently weren't willing to invest) to model rig and voice a new character in 3D. Everything was always there from the start and you've seen it all the minute after you've seen each of the character's faces. Even props and immobile set dressings are reused blatantly and frequently. Cut, paste, ship. The woodies, mymble's kids, the hemulens, the whole lot. The firehose makes an appearance in the comet finale as the same model, which normally I'd compliment as a fun bit of homely continuity, but with the frequency of reappearing objects critters and locations, it feels... sandboxy.

Speaking of budget and constraints, the animation style is something i never got used to. Hot take, but 3D animation will never quite reach the coattails of 2D animation. It feels cheap no matter how technically impressive or high quality it is, which, to its credit, I'm not an animator but I'm aware from folks that are skilled in that area that MV19 is quite impressive. Also by the booble do not get me started on the horrible side mouth thing it really looks awful and I have opinions on that but that's not what we're here for. Anyway, whether you're for or against 3D being the go-to these days, I for one can't help but notice the drawbacks, which, often break my immersion. That's all to say nothing of things like snork going bald.

I could nitpick all day about creative choices, characters not lining up quite right, a complete lack of certain characters, or the swapping of roles and positions from what was originally one or several characters to a different character, but ultimately all of this would fail to encapsulate an actual sum of quality for the series as a whole. There's clear passion, effort, and all sorts of other good ingredients here. I can't dismiss the series as a whole, and honestly? It doesn't deserve to be dismissed, but it does reach the finish line lacking. It on its own is still enjoyable, and may even be someone's favorite I'm sure, but for me? I can't say I'm into it. There are a LARGE number of very valid complaints any given fan could muster when prompted with the question "what did you think of MV19?" and honestly far less things that this particular adaptation does that are memorable on their own merits. That being said, I very much enjoyed the time i spent with it and will surely watch it again at some point. I'm grateful for their being more moomin media going forward, and I'm glad this one went well enough. I'm grateful for MV19 bringing in new fans and bringing old ones together. I'm of the opinion that I'm happier when a show can forge memories with others rather than when a show on its own being a 10/10.

There was a lot I liked. And a lot more I didn't like. But, as Moominmamma said;

‘There’s a lot of things one can’t understand, but why should everything be exactly as one is used to having it?’

— Moominsummer Madness

Also you didn't get queerbaited stop talking about it lol

[fruitless-vain]

hi! do you have any ideas on how to reward a dog who doesn't have any strong motivators? Treats are the only thing that work but he doesn't really care if there is something else he wants, doesnt care for toys, pets are ignored. I just have no idea what other rewards could be used

Id take a good look at Why the dogs motivation seems to be lacking, what environment it tanks in, and ensure to keep an eye out for things like stressors, overstimulation, fear, met needs, and other variables that may impact a dog’s comfort taking treats or exhibiting play behaviour. Things like illness or pain should also be considered as a factor for a lack of motivation (schedule their annual and take a good look at their behaviour and their movement- do they sit sloppy, pop hip often, hunch back, etc. these can all be more overlooked signs of pain!). Breed can also be a factor as some are more self motivated than people pleasing so their motivation tends to just look a bit different!

I'd also be curious to know if this dog has always been disinterested or if this has cropped up over time. A common factor for decreasing motivation is the fact that training itself has become unfun. Usually as a result of asking too much of the dog too fast, not paying them adequately for the work they're doing, working in far too complicated settings, too many competing reinforcers, getting frustrated during the session, using rewards to lure a dog towards feared things or simply having training sessions run on for too long where the dog then ends sessions feeling bored or tired. This can cause even the most active dog to become averse to training as a whole which can present itself as an aversion or lack of interest in many common rewards.

Additionally see what sorts of environments the dog is comfortable being rewarded in, perhaps they take treats okay in a certain room of the home but not outside. This can give us a lot of info and allow us to start in an environment they can succeed in and gradually shift to other environments with more complex challenges (like the competing reinforcers you mentioned)

Reinforcers can be Anything the dog actually wants. The sky is really the limit here. I can stick a treat in every dogs mouth and it’s not going to help anything if the dog itself doesn’t find that treat rewarding. Some options might be:

Treats- experiment with different types and textures. Smelly cheeses, hotdog, and sausage are common high value snacks that can help increase motivation in difficult situations but all dogs are different and some might find a satisfying crunch of a crispy biscuit more rewarding. Try new things and see what they gravitate towards. Additionally watch the way you deliver the reward, a common mistake is to push the treat in towards the dog's nose- this can be off-putting as you add spatial pressure which over time can cause a dog to refuse to take treats altogether. Instead try to offer the treat a distance away from their nose so they step towards it to take it (also watch for things like the way you hold your hand, some dogs may find a hand looming down with the treat threatening while a hand held below nose level with the palm up to be nicer to take treats from). You can also deliver treats in more engaging ways instead of just handing it to them. Toss it in the air for them to catch, roll it along the floor to chase, scatter a few pieces in grass, have them chase and follow the hand for a bit prior to releasing the treat. Make getting the treats a whole Experience!

Toys- rubber toys, canvas, biting, chasing, squeakers, tug. There's a ton of options. Not all dogs like playing in the middle of training as it breaks their focus but others live for it. While not for every dog I will say that playing is a good measure for a dog's comfort. If, for example, you can play tug indoors and have a fun time but the dog is unable to play tug at all outdoors that tells us the dog doesn't feel comfortable enough to exhibit that behaviour. That's information we can use!

Petting- Not my favourite thing to use, affection isn't really something you want to be bargaining off in exchange for favours but it has its uses. A fearful dog may love some pets to help comfort them and reduce that fear response, some affection can also go a long way in just grounding your dog and keeping a training session light and fun. A bit of a social fun break. There's definitely some dogs that can appreciate a pet as a reinforcer and they can work in a pinch if other reinforcers aren't available.

Sniffs- Not something you want to overuse as sniffing is a fundamental part of how dogs explore the world but an excellent way to shift to self reinforcing fundamentals like loose leash walking. Most dogs love a good sniff, your hound types especially, and you can use that to your advantage as you ask for a behaviour and then release them to go snuffle away. Sniffing is also a calming behaviour that can reduce heart rate and build confidence in their environment which can reduce issues like not taking treats outdoors in the first place.

Speed- A lot of dogs find human walking paces slow and frustrating (a common cause for leash pulling) so you may find that in outdoor environments you can reward your dog by simply jogging for a short burst. The speed is fun and enticing and as such can often become quite the powerful reward.

Personal play + Volume - Whether this be the opportunity to howl and bark or you getting loud and excited with them. Sometimes a dog may not be interested in toys but they may be interested in your engagement. This might be baby talking to them in a happy tone or fully getting down on their level to wrestle and bop around or perhaps running away and having them chase you. A different way to initiate play for those disinterested in toys.

Premack's Principle - When you are dealing with competing reinforcers most people will find they lose this battle where whatever you have is not as valuable as what the dog actually wants (chasing a squirrel perhaps). In many cases you cannot fight instinct and genetics with a piece of cheese. At least not without prepwork. This is where Premack's Principle comes in to play, where a dog is able to do a less desirable behaviour (ignoring the squirrel) in exchange for a more desirable behaviour (getting to go chase the squirrel). You can use the thing you're struggling with to reinforce what you'd rather see. Another example may be having your dog a distance away from other dogs, waiting for eye contact and then releasing them to go greet the dog. Over time this could cause an exciteable greeter to offer frequent eye contact to you whenever they spot a dog in anticipation of getting to go greet the other dog which is a nice alternative to barking or pulling. Practically everything your dog would Rather Be Doing you can use as a reward for what You would rather they be doing.

I'd also take a look in to "engagement games" online, there should be a load of force free resources out there for ways to make yourself more engaging and fun which can really help in encouraging a dog to be more excited to train. Strong foundations in how they view interacting with you and training as a whole can really go a long way in impacting motivators and training results.

There's a whole lot more to consider and a ton of more complex things that could be at play but without knowing your dog personally I'll leave this here for you to ponder and play with!

[lorei-writes]

... Just some ramblings.

It happened several times that I've been told that I'm an optimist or an otherwise very positive person. There are certain things I don't complain about much, which I presume can give off the wrong idea that nothing goes too askew in my life. In that case, not despairing would be easy.

But that's not real. The time I spent being bedridden in 2022 & 2023 combined exceeds half a year. My day starts with 10+ pills. I've had to start the same degree three times now, despite never failing any exam. I got discarded on the basis of being ill. The list goes on -- I struggle like most people do... And I don't dislike my life. I enjoy being alive, even though some days I wonder why.

[Directed more so at myself than anybody else -- I wanted to organise them in my head a little, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to share it either.]

>> Contentment is everywhere. Enjoy the smallest things.

At one point it felt like settling for less, but now I think that was rather misguided. It's increasing your sensitivity to pleasure more than anything. It can help you stay present in the moment.

I can't have many treats, but I can still drink black tea. The feeling of the hot mug against my hands, the texture of the ceramic. The smell of the tea. Its taste. Being warmed from the inside. The way the loose leafs float in the water... Previously I'd just overlook it, but now it's more pleasurable than any cakes I would have had it with before.

It isn't to say that cakes don't taste good anymore. They're something "extra"... and now I just don't need that "extra" to be content.

>> Your life is the only one you have.

Wondering about "what ifs" is a waste of energy. You live only in the present and cannot rewrite your past. You can know a lot of answers to your "whys", but... if you don't live, don't move on, does that change much?

I cried about things being unfair, but that never made them fair. It's a pointless effort. The reality still is that I have to deal with a certain set of limitations (and a certain set of advantages), and that I can only try my best to work with that.

>> Humour helps. Not the self-depreciating one.

Some days you need to cry, and then, by all means, cry. Some things you may never want to laugh about... But some? Meh. They become so mundane they get funny, and at the end of the day, laughter's good for you. There are no brownie points for always being serious.

(I shall not talk about shitting with ghosts.)

>> Bitter? In tears? Live through it.

Putting on a front doesn't do anybody any favours. We're only humans. If you feel bitter or sad about something, you are bitter or sad about it. Allowing yourself to experience the negative emotion is... fine. I'd say it's only reasonable to sit with it and let it wash over you -- without spiralling and going into negative "nothing is ever going to be okay, everybody is bad, that person is rotten, yada yada" loops. Sometimes you just need to observe the mind.

>> Nobody can predict the future.

When everything goes askew, it is tempting to say that things will always be this way. Our brains like patterns. They love searching for them... at the same time, they're full of biases and a couple years hardly define the entire rest of your life. Things can fall apart in a week. They can also be brought back together... and ultimately, when you live in the future, you forget about the present, which is the only time you really have.

>> Nobody thinks about you as much as you do. In most cases it's not malice, it's just ignorance. (And everybody will be guilty of this.)

>> Everybody has hard days.

>> The you of today lives only today. Make the most use out of your time. Anticipate the internal reward you will get.

Do you have to start studying early for your exam? No. But... Think about the you from the future. Will they be happy to be able to just revise on the day before it? Or would you rather leave them with still having to work through a portion of the material? It may seem it's all "you", but "you" of today is not living with the same consequences as the "you" of tomorrow or two months from now. Help the "you" from the future! Anticipate the feeling of relief you'll get then! It's a team effort!

Lorei of the good days is constantly working so that Lorei of the bad days can be at ease.

>> Agency matters.

There are things that are outside of your control. Sometimes I can't sit up by myself. It's frustrating. However, I can also pick what book I'm going to read next, I can choose to take my medicine on time, I can choose to continue on studying. No matter how insignificant it seems, there's always a choice I can make, even if it's something as small as choosing to eat even though it hurts.

Some things I can't control. I'm not giving away the choices that are in my hands.

>> You control only yourself and your reactions.

Don't give power to other people. It's impossible to control how they feel or what they think about you. It's impossible to make people stay. It's all up to them, and yes, sometimes they will be hurtful, sometimes you will be misjudged. But whether you care about that is only up to you.

>> Forgive, but don't forget.

Holding onto grudges and feeding old emotion only wastes energy. Letting those control me or influence my actions would only give away the power I have. I can choose to move on and to be unaffected. And I can choose not to allow somebody close again, even though I don't feel anything about them.

>> You are not entitled to the consequences of your actions.

You can work your ass off and it can still not pay off. The only thing you can affect is what's within your grasp -- as such, worrying about outcomes becomes irrelevant.

>> One goal at a time. (Even if you have multiple of them: if you're working on thing A, you're working on thing A only.)

Separate goals within your mind. The more things you have to do and the more you mix them, the lower the satisfaction from progressing any of them.

>> If you're in pain and can't avoid it, accept it and feel it.

I can't take painkillers. Avoidance of inevitable pain only prolongs it. It's easier to take it when I accept it as bad as it is, and let it go through my system.

>> You may not be ready to do something. It doesn't mean you shouldn't do it.

>> Learn to fail. Failure is a feedback.

>> Discomfort is not danger.

It is good to learn to sit with your discomfort. Being comfortable with being uncomfortable makes learning, conflict resolution, and growth overall easier. You then don't have to appease emotion.

>> The self is fluid. Don't cling.

We all change. We're not marketable products with branding. Let yourself change... and even if you're stripped from all the things you've thought you were, it's not as scary. You are more than them.

There was a time when I was neither dexterous, nor smart, nor hard-working, nor useful, all against my will. I was none of the things I'd previously call myself... But I still was. It's not as scary to lose any of them anymore. I just am and that's enough.

>> Try to understand. You don't have to agree, but try to understand.

>> Be wary of your own arrogance. Don't assume you're absolved of ignorance.

>> You have more to give than you realise. And honestly? Giving to the right people is awesome.

... and there could be a couple more, but I've rambled my heart out, so I'm good now.