#they might respond to it in extremely beautiful and disordered ways

[annabelle--cane]

[walks out of the gothic art history lecture covered in blood] actually I think hal yorke is like that because he grew up in the wake of late medieval macabre arts culture

[sysboxes]

It's possible for alters to have their own mental health!!! Alters can have personality disorders that other alters don't have, I think what you're talking about is autism, ADHD and other disorders similar! (As those affect the brain and therefore affect the whole system, but personality disorders are a different sort of thing, so one alter can have a PD and the others might not!) We can provide links if you'd like ^^ /nm /info

Hey there Anon! Thank you for the offer. We also received the following anon from (probably) another user, which I'd like to address here as well:

Alters can have personality disorders: (link) “✘ MYTH: ALTERS CAN’T HAVE THEIR OWN MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES IF THE MAIN SURVIVOR DOESN’T HAVE THEM. They actually can, and many do. It’s extremely common for individual alters to battle depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar, eating disorders, self harm, etc., while other members of the system experience no such thing. Some extremely differentiated systems may even need that system member to come forward and take medications that the rest of the system does not need and will not get. ..and their brain’s neurology responds accordingly. But, make no mistake, most expressions of mental illness amongst alters are incredibly real and valid and should be treated as such.” (cut up a little, the source is above, we're pretty sure the source is reliable, it seems so. We've also had other systems say this too, and to us that's how it works, as only one of us as far as we know are affected by NPD)

Firstly, I feel the paragraph that was cut out of the Beauty After Bruises section is very important for further context and explanation. It's quoted here below:

One note about some disorders, however. Non-verbal, poor eye contact, savant-like, or sensory-processing-disorder alters can be extremely common traits in DID systems. However, it’s important not to just jump to calling these parts “autistic” if the system as a whole is not autistic. It’s possible for alters to behave in ways that mimic their understanding of SYMPTOMS in other disorders they know about, while not actually possessing the neurology for them. This is a complicated subject we could try to elaborate more on at some point, but it’s just an encouragement to pause and not automatically label some parts as having certain conditions just because they show a few traits of them. It can cause a great deal of conflation and misrepresentation of those illnesses. It may also be purely based on discriminatory or uneducated stereotypes of those conditions that were adopted into a young child’s mind. So, it’s just helpful to check for that possibility first!

As Beauty After Bruises is saying here, neurology takes a place in this discussion. It seems as if this resource is mostly stating that alters can all struggle with mental illness, and can appear to struggle singularly with those illnesses symptoms -- in which case, the "This alter is a symptom holder" is exactly the language we feel comfortable with. Until we are able to research more, we're wary about spreading potential misinformation about how brains work.

As mods, we absolutely want to do our best to avoid spreading misinformation. From our understandings, NPD and similar personality disorders are caused by a structural shift in the brain -- something physical and concrete. Here's some of our resources we found on NPD.

Source 1: “They analyzed a total of 34 test subjects, of which 17 suffered from a narcissistic personality disorder… Using magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) methods, the scientists measured the thickness of the patients' cerebral cortex… The findings revealed that those subjects suffering from narcissistic personality disorder exhibited structural abnormalities in precisely that region of the brain, which is involved in the processing and generation of compassion.”

Source 2: “The decreased brain white matter microstructures among three clusters were found in the association, projection/thalamic and connection pathways of white matter in young adult males with NPD. The abnormal white matter brain regions may be one of the neuropathological basis of the pathogenesis of young males with NPD, and it may be related to white matter development in early adulthood."

Based on these sources, the moderators are most comfortable using the language of alters being symptom holders. Both sources indicate that NPD affects the structural nature of the brain, which would impact all of the members of the system. However, like Beauty After Bruises was suggesting, that doesn't mean that various alters don't reflect those symptoms in different ways. It's absolutely possible for alters to struggle more or less with disorders, or even seemingly not at all.

I hope this clarifies our perspectives. Thank you!

[thehoneybuzz]

Waking Up with PTSD

You go your entire life suppressing the feelings of panic that come with this disease. My therapist calls PTSD the "granddaddy" of anxiety disorders, and there's undoubtedly something nefariously patriarchal about how it all works. Patriarch, after all, comes from the greek roots - patria meaning family, and arkhēs, meaning ruling. In the context of PTSD, anxiety rules with an iron fist. The kingdom of my mind is governed by it. 

So what do you do? What CAN you do when your brain is programmed to expect the worst and will adapt your thinking to ensure it's correct?

You focus on every little thing except the black hole that lives in your chest, certain that ignoring it will make it better. You live like if you do not acknowledge the fact you were hurt, or abused, or traumatized, it can't grab hold of you. Come to find out that in the act of suppression, you've exacerbated it all the more. 

The only other option you have is to feel the pain, and who could stand that? Who is strong enough to face the reality of injustice, the realities of innocence lost in place of terror? So instead, we seek to contain it - but it's not like jumping on a grenade. It's a hydrogen bomb. You aren't just blown to pieces; you're eviscerated. 

You see - You've compressed the things that make you human inside yourself - the molecular structure of who you are is contained by the ways you've coped with it. Your need for distress manifests in your interests such that they are indistinct from your personality - you climb mountains to feel alive and create risks to feel better. 

That's how nuclear fusion works. It contains the raw material necessary for an explosion. With heat and pressure applied, hydrogen atoms combine. To combine, each element must lose a bit of its mass. I combined who I was with what happened to me, and both became lesser for it. Only the explosion was delayed. 

In physics, the amount of energy created from a fusion reaction equals the amount of mass converted multiplied by the speed of light squared. Familiar, isn't it? E=mc2. So try this calculation on for size - 

If you convert your identity as a person to your status as a victim - how much of your personal "mass" has been lost? 

I can't tell you for sure, but I can show you what it feels like.  

Boom.

You spend your whole life telling yourself that your feelings are invalid. You start to heal, and your first few steps involve recovering what you lost. You look at yourself and realize the way you've been responding to things is not how they really are. You know that, yes, the world was dangerous - but it's not anymore. 

The truth is your brain, chemically, does not know how to operate fully unless it's under duress. So when you wake up on a beautiful Sunday morning with nothing to do, you don't relax - you search for the familiar, and your sick mind is all but happy to provide you an answer - a list of the ways you're failing so you can affirm the world is as awful as you believe it is. That beautiful lump of grey matter that's had to adapt to keep you alive has to learn another way. The process of learning is arduous, the process of un-learning - nearly impossible. 

But you must. 

You acknowledge the truth of what happened, which means making space for some terrible pain. All your life, you've been conditioned to ignore your emotions. Then, you force yourself to acknowledge them. Finally - after months or years - you regain touch with yourself again - you put the puzzle of yourself back together - you know what hurt feels like, but you also know joy - and then the worst realization of all is waiting for you as soon as you untangle yourself from the shame.

And that's the really fucked up thing about PTSD: Not all your feelings are valid. 

You go from one extreme - absolute denial - to the other - radical acceptance. But the majority of your living is done in the grey. I might wake up on a Sunday and feel like I have nothing of value to provide in this world - but it's just not true. Healing means recognizing which feelings are worth consideration and which are echoes of trauma gone by. 

The work is making space for what was while reaching for things as you know they're meant to be. 

[jade-j17]

Bloom Tea

Bloom tea has been going around social media like wildfire recently. It is a company that promotes slimming down yourself and weight loss by drinking said tea. Bloom Tea is a super popular beverage that has gained recognition for its potential health benefits, especially when it comes to weight loss. This herbal tea blend consists of various plant-based ingredients known for their detoxifying and metabolism-boosting properties. As a result, many people have turned to Bloom Tea as part of their daily routine to help achieve their weight loss goals. An important aspect of Bloom Tea's promotion is its association with thin celebrities and influencers. These already-slim influencers advertise the tea's effectiveness, which further drives its demand among those seeking a faster alternative for weight loss. However, this marketing strategy can also be problematic, as it may set unrealistic expectations and create body dysmorphia amongst consumers who do not see immediate results. Quite honestly, some individuals may feel discouraged or even ugly when they do not achieve the same level of success as the slim promoters of Bloom Tea. This feeling of not being good enough, skinny enough, or fit societal expectations of beauty could potentially lead to unhealthy behaviors and a negative self esteem issue. Although Bloom Tea might work for some people in losing weight, it is crucial to acknowledge that everyone's body is different and responds to products in different ways. Another concern tied to Bloom Tea consumption is its potential connection to eating disorders, as some users have reported a decrease in appetite after consuming the tea regularly if taken to the extreme. It is essential for consumers to maintain a balanced diet alongside the use of Bloom Tea and be mindful of any changes in their eating habits. Bloom Tea has deceitful advertising practices by not featuring plus-sized models in their promotional campaigns. Their exclusive use of slim models, tiktokers, and instagram influencers creates unrealistic and harmful beauty standards, which may lead some customers to feel excluded or poorly represented in their marketing materials. This lack of diversity misrepresents the wide-ranging demographics that enjoy their products. By incorporating plus-sized models, Bloom Tea can create inclusivity and battle against the stigma behind beauty norms in their industry. Bloom tea is very beneficial but it is important to clearly communicate the true benefits of bloom tea to consumers, rather than solely marketing it as a weight loss product. They should consider including information on the tea's potential health benefits and encouraging a balanced approach to achieving weight loss through both drinking the tea and engaging in regular exercise. I saw a TikTok of a girl telling people ‘how she lost weight’ and how she solely drank the tea and magically became slimmer. It might not be the companies fault for her advertising, but they are the face of the brand she is promoting and it seems as though they encourage that type of deceit. Overall, while Bloom Tea has become a very important product in the world of health and fitness, it is crucial for individuals to consider both its potential benefits and drawbacks before incorporating it into their daily routine. Acknowledging the diversity in how bodies respond to certain diets and maintaining a healthy approach towards weight loss can ensure users achieve their goals while preserving their mental and physical wellbeing. Social media advertising plays a significant role in shaping people's perceptions of their body image, and it's so important to be honest about the realities of diverse body types. Brands should promote diverse body types in their advertisements so women don’t feel the pressure of trying to look like someone that has been fabricated to look the way they do solely for the sales. Profiting off of women’s insecurities will forever be a problem that society faces if a stop isn’t put to it all!

[zevlors-tail]

So, I'm through episode 2 in Tears of Themis, and I would like to give a little review and say some things.

Spoilers for episodes 1, 2, and the beginning of Vyn's story BTW!!!

As far as functionality and storyline, those things are great. I am extremely interested in where the story is going, and the characters and plot are captivating. The game runs pretty smooth too, and it's not too different from Obey Me in terms of a card system and the episodes, though I do feel it could have been made a bit simpler...

So now that I've given my praise, I want to address a couple...issues that I have with the actual content of the game. 😬

I'll just be blunt. I don't like the fact that so far, mental illness has been portrayed the way it has. Quite frankly I think it's not only extremely harmful and misrepresenting of those who actually are affected by it, but also in poor taste to include it in such a prevalent way in an otome game. I'm not sure I understand the point behind it other than using it as an excuse for a motive for some of the cases and situations, which to me is absolutely just...yuck. And for that matter, there have been no warnings whatsoever for players who might be sensitive to those subjects either. It just pops up in the story randomly.

In Vyn's very first story segment, you literally see someone with SH marks, and it's MC's job to somehow read into that and come to the conclusion that one of Vyn's students is suicidal. In epside 2, bipolar disorder (idk the current/correct term or if that one's outdated, I'm sorry! I'm only quoting the term from the game!) is literally used as a piece of evidence and the motive as to why a man murdered his wife. Also, let's not forget the way Estelle literally used Janus' illness against him to try and manipulate him to go public with their marriage, saying "I have to take care of you and your depression, but who's going to take care of me?" That was quite possibly the most toxic line from this game I've read yet. And even in episode one, there was a brief mention of Grandpa Vern having depression after everything that transpired with Pedro and Penny's Comfort Foods, but MC and Artem quickly pass it off with something along the lines of "Well the trial's over now, so he'll be fine!"

Are you kidding me? 😳 I just feel like if you can't write a compelling murder mystery plot without having to make someone mentally ill to give them a motive, maybe you shouldn't be writing that plot. Also, you're misrepresenting everyone with mental illness and spreading misinformation about what it's really like. In real world situations, it's never black and white like that. It's so different for everyone, and it cannot be 'cured' or just 'go away' just because the main stressor or source of the problem does. It doesn't work like that, but I digress...

Note: I didn't really mention it here, but because I bring up Mystic Messenger in a later comparison, I would like to note that while MysMes also had a similar issue to this (ie. Rika, her cult, and mental illness), I feel that it was handled significantly better and multiple characters recognized her wrongdoings and condemned her and her actions for it. I haven't played through Saeran or V's route, so I can't vouch for that content. I just feel that MysMes handled it better (not perfectly), which is why it wasn't brought up here.

I think I've said enough about that. On to my next qualm:

I've noticed there have been several conversations about MC's figure and weight already, including Luke saying something akin to "I've always thought you looked too skinny," and MC thinking they were fat or asking/acusing Luke of calling them fat. I can't remember exactly what was said or mentioned but it made me feel uncomfortable for several reasons. The first is that weight didn't really need to be mentioned at all, and that is a particular sensitivity of mine, and the second being that Luke calling MC skinny is, well- it assumes that every single player is...skinny.

That is quite obviously not the case. Whatever their reasoning for it, they've now made every person who isn't considered skinny feel left out and shitty. I would even go as far as to say it's borderline fat-phobic with the type of comments that were made.

And on that topic...there is also no representation for POC whatsoever when it comes to MC. As far as I know, MC isn't customizable. Someone correct me if I'm wrong on this, but I never saw an option to change skin color, hair color, eye color, or just icons in general. Why? I'm tired of the "skinny white girl" rhetoric. Not everyone is skinny, not everyone is white, and not everyone is a girl or feminine.

Which leads me to my final big issue! I understand that an otome game's target audience is usually women, so I understand MC being a girl. I do. However- in comparison with Obey Me and even Mystic Messenger, the MC in Tears of Themis is overwhelmingly feminine. Again, I understand target audience, but come on. Even Mystic Messenger only occasionally poked at the MC's specific gender and even hid their eyes so make it slightly more anonymous/neutral (not to say the game wasn't in the wrong for it, bc they very well could have made the MC gender neutral apart from the CGI's), but I feel like this game specifically really paints a picture of a female MC that's extremely hard for me to relate to as a nonbinary person.

Also, even though I'm supposed to be the main character, it feels like I'm playing through someone else's life. They've fleshed out MC so much that she isn't actually relatable anymore, at least in my opinion. She's unnaturally upbeat, has an entire story about her childhood, specific hobbies and a designated work place, and has an entire appearance on screen. And unlike in both MysMes and Obey Me, you actually don't get the option to choose different responses to characters. It's just a set story. The only place you get to choose anything is when you're presenting evidence and testimony in court. So no personalization of MC is really my issue here, I think.

Props to Obey Me for making MC gender neutral, and props to MysMes for at least keeping MC relatable and giving them choices to respond with even if the game set their gender. And hey, MysMes even had different icons to choose from for MC too. Tears of Themis, what's the hold up? 🤨

It's generally a good game when it comes to it's working functions and systems, and I understand that no one is obligated to tag triggers, really. But it's still a game, and it's not above critique.

I give this game...3 stars out of 5. Functionality is great, plot is interesting when it's not misrepresenting, and the love interests are interesting and attractive. The art is beautiful. However, it ranks third on the list of otome games I've played so far (and I've only played three, meaning it's last on the list).

Obey Me takes the cake at number one with it's beautiful art and gender neutral MC as well as its multiple love interests and ridiculously hilarious plot. Mystic Messenger comes in at a solid second place, also with beautiful art and an interesting plot. MysMes also gets props for the way their hourglass system works and the way the story unfolded in different routes and all the different endings you could get. And finally we've got Tears of Themis in third...it could stand to do a bit better.

Well, that's pretty much all I got. Others are welcome to add on to this as well. If I'm wrong about something, please let me know respectfully.

[theradioghost]

Do you have any podcast recs that are super easy for those of us with audio processing problems? For me specifically that means one voice (or maybe two if they’re very distinct) and minimal complexity in the soundscaping, though if you have recs that don’t fit those that you think might apply to other people w/ different audio processing issues you can talk about those too! :)

I can certainly try! I feel as though I should put it out there that I often have a difficult time gauging where a podcast sits re: audio processing/HOH listeners; the literal entirety of my day job is being good at telling what people are saying in audio, and my own audio processing problems mostly just result in my near-inability to keep up with actual plays, so if any of these are misjudgements on those terms I apologize in advance.

* means that I know there are also transcripts available for the podcast in question!

SAYER: scifi dark comedy/horror. In a morally questionable tech corporation’s moonbase facilities, advanced artificial intelligence SAYER directs employees about their daily routines; this then turns over time into possibly the best story about AI I’ve ever heard. Especially in the first three seasons, virtually all speaking is done by one voice. (Caveat that a few other characters come in later, and they’re actually all voiced by one guy with different filters, but the filters are pretty distinct and characters tend to identify themselves by default at the beginning of every conversation.)

*The Cryptonaturalist: comforting supernatural folksiness. The titular expert on all things strange and wonderful reads poetry, admires nature, and talks about wonderful creatures like foxes that live within library shelves, stick insects that camouflage themselves as whole trees, salamanders that swim in parking lot asphalt, and Owls.

*The Hidden Almanac: comforting supernatural weirdness. Hagiographer, avid gardener, and Mysterious Dude In Plague Doctor Getup known as Reverend Mord gives tidbits of the history of his strange and fantastical world, along with gardening advice. Sometimes his tequila-swigging accidental necromancer best friend coworker Pastor Drom shows up. Written by fantasy author Ursula Vernon and mostly voiced by her husband Kevin. Extremely relaxing to listen to; the show ended last year but they put out five-minute episodes three times a week for eight years so there’s plenty of it. The first year or so actually doesn’t appear on most podcatchers so maybe check out the website.

Everything Is Alive: poignant, heartfelt interviews with inanimate objects. While there’s a different object featured each episode, it’s mostly just them and the interviewer, plus occasional phone calls with an expert on some subject brought up during the interview. Hits so much harder than you could possibly imagine given the summary. You WILL be upset about a can of off-brand cola.

*Quid Pro Euro: bizarre comedy mockumentary. A satire of the European Union in the style of a set of instructional tapes for EU employees made in the ‘90s, predicting what the EU would look like in the 21st century. Their predictions are somewhat off. Only one voice and delightfully it is Felix Trench. I don’t know anything about the EU but I still think it’s hilarious.

*Glasgow Ghost Stories: spooky supernatural. A resident of Glasgow is unexpectedly able to see the many ghosts that reside in the city -- but the ghosts have started to notice her too, and not all of them are friendly. A beautiful and atmospheric single-voice show; plus the feed also contains the very good miniseries Tracks.

*Palimpsest: poetic and haunting. An anthology series about young women experiencing supernatural happenings, each 10-episode season tells a different story in monologue (I think there are literally two episodes with other voices in them). Poignant, gorgeous, and sometimes heartbreakingly sad in the best way. In season one Anneliese wonders about the strange neighbors at her new apartment. In season two, Ellen takes a new job as companion to a supposed fairy princess imprisoned in a strange showroom in turn of the century America. In season three, former codebreaker Josie begins to see the spirits of the dead on the streets of London during the Blitz.

*Within the Wires: alternate history scifi found footage. From a world where a calamitous global war resulted in the installation of a new Society where nations and family ties are banned, an anthology of voices telling their stories. Each season is a single voice. Season one, a set of relaxation tapes deliver unexpected instructions to a government prisoner in a strange medical facility. In sSeason two, a series of museum exhibit guides spin out the mystery of two artists and their work. In season three, a government employee dictates notes to his secretary and begins to suspect a plot. In season four, the traveling leader of a secretive cultlike commune leaves sermons for her followers, and instructions for her daughter.

*Alice Isn’t Dead: lesbian americana roadtrip weird horror. Keisha’s wife Alice was missing, presumed dead. Now Keisha is a trucker, traveling the vast American emptiness to seek her out; but she’s about to become embroiled in the same vast secret war that may have drawn away her wife, and she’s not alone on the roads. Starts with one voice, adds a new one each season for a total of three. Also is finished.

*Station Blue: psychological horror. Matthew takes a job as the lone caretaker of an Antarctic research station for several months. This goes about as well as you’d predict. Very much a slow burn, strange, brooding horror of isolation. Heavy themes of mental illness based on the creator’s experiences of bipolar disorder. 

*Mabel: dark, poetic faerietale horror. Live-in caretaker Anna attempts to contact the absent granddaughter of her elderly employer, the lone resident of a strange and ancient house in Ireland. A love story, a haunted house story, a fairy tale with teeth. This one might be hit or miss; it sometimes tends to the abstract a bit, and there’s more soundscaping and some other occasional voices besides the main two protagonists. Definitely worth trying out, though, this is absolutely an underappreciated gem.

*Janus Descending: tragic scifi horror. Two researchers, Peter and Chell, travel alone to a distant planet to survey the ruins of its extinct civilization. Unfortunately, they discover exactly how that civilization died out. Excellent if you like movies like Alien, and also being extremely sad. Only two voices. Really unique story structure: it’s told via the two protagonists’ logs of the events, but you hear Chell’s logs in order, and Peter’s logs in reverse, with their perspectives alternating. The result is a tragedy where technically you know the ending from the start, but it’s told so cleverly that just what happened and how remains a tantalizing, tense, heartbreaking mystery right until the end.

*I Am In Eskew: poetic, surreal horror. Only two voices and few sound effects. David is a man trapped in the twisting, malevolent city of Eskew, where the rain always falls, streets seem to lead the same way twice, and nothing can be trusted. Riyo is an investigator, making her way through rumors and questions in search of a man long missing and a place that seems not to exist. Maybe my favorite horror media ever? Deeply disturbing and yet even the most awful things are somehow beautiful. Like if Lynch, Escher and Mieville had a terrible, wonderful baby.

*Tides: contemplative hard scifi. When biologist Dr. Eurus is wrecked alone on a distant alien world shaped by deadly tidal forces, her struggle to survive also becomes a meditative exploration of the ecosystem around her, and a recognition that here, she is the alien. Mostly it’s Dr. Eurus; sometimes you hear from her coworkers. It’s got Julia Schifini, what’s not to love?

*Midnight Radio: ghost story/romance. A 1950s radio host who broadcasts a late-night show to her small hometown begins to receive letters from a listener and respond to them on air. I wrote this! It has a total of three voice actors and virtually no soundscaping. I promise it’s good.

[mtherhino]

One side, Two lives

Chapter nine

Nothing but a bad memory

First Previous Next

Warnings: swearing and eating disorder

Roman had woken up feeling awful and tired. He looked over at his clock and saw that it was three am. He had went to sleep at midnight.

Get up already you piece of shit. Roman sighed heavily. The voice practically never left him alone at this point.

           Roman was a pretty tolerant person. He put up with a lot even though he didn’t think he it. So the fact that he was actually annoyed and angry at this voice spoke volumes.

You know you’re a real fucking jackass sometime. Roman said as he got out of bed and headed towards his closet.

Well theres no way I could be worse than you, though that isn’t a very high bar is it? Roman paused as he was grabbing his jacket, not being able to say anything in response.

No witty retort for that huh? That’s because you know its true.

“Shut up” Roman growled to the darkness. This had become an unpleasant routine for the light side. Wake up, be insulted, pretend to eat, work on projects, workout till he felt like he might break, and then work on his projects again until he passes out. Then repeat the next day.

           Roman took a deep breath to calm himself down, he knew listening to voice wasn’t helpful for others so he tried his best not to listen. Though it did get hard when he agreed with it.

Enough talking, since I’m up early I might as well get things done. Roman though as he finished getting ready for the day and went over to his desk. He already had the next three videos planed out and scripted so he didn’t have much assigned work to do. Never the less he still pulled out his laptop and started typing out ideas that could work.  

           * time skip

Roman sighed and leaned back in his chair. He just finished writing out the next video, all he had to do now is finish putting the script together. He got up to stretch and checked the time. He was a bit surprise to see it was already nine am.

“Shit, I didn’t think it would take me that long.” The prince cursed to himself.

This is why you have to wake up early. Sleeping is a waste of time since you clearly don’t have the skill it takes to get your work done like a normal person. The voice said inside his head.

“Ya I guess you have a point.” Roman said as he brushed some of the stray hairs out of his face. His stomach growled which kinda surprised him. Geez how long has it been since I last ate? Roman tried to think and realize he hadn’t eaten in three days. Well shit, guess I have to eat today.

Technically you don’t have too. The voice said in a cruel tone. Roman rolled his eyes. I don’t want to but if I don’t I’ll pass out and I need to finish this script. The voice grumbled and that was as close as it ever came to agreeing with Roman.  

           The creative side walked out of his room and down the stairs. He didn’t hear anyone else up so he didn’t bother to shape shift yet. He walked into the still dark kitchen and went to grab an apple from a boll on the counter. Kinda odd that Patton isn’t up yet. Maybe he’s taking a second chill day or something. Roman thought to himself.

           He looked down at the apple in his hand and his face twisted in disgust. The idea of eating, it was just, not fun. It’s hard to explain. He felt like he was going to eat poison instead of normal food. Like eating would cause him some sort of disease. It’s just an apple, come on Roman. The creative side took a bite of the apple and chewed. Dammit why must this be so hard.

The prince somehow finished the apple and threw away the pit. He went back to his room and went over to his mirror. He had been rather cautious with going into the imagination ever since the voice had come back. It always got so much louder there that Roman had a hard time remembering that the voice was in his mind and not a person talking right next to him. Roman shook his head and walked through the door. Today the imagination was a bit cloudier but the prince simply smiled at the dark clouds. Unlike most he never saw rain as a bad thing like most people did. To him the rain was calm and beautiful, something that kept the plants and animals alive.

The prince started off towards a shoreline he and his brother had made when they where younger. Right next to the water sat a large cliff and today Roman’s goal was to climb it. It made for a good workout and the danger of it all was just fun to the princely character. Once he finishes his short jog the shore he looked up at the might mountain cliff. It was hard to quite see the top from his point of view and it made the creative side smile at the challenge.

           The adventurer started his climb, summoning some gloves and sneakers to make it ever so slightly easier. He was already in a more adventuresome outfit, jeans and an old shirt and jacket, but he had a certain pair of sneakers that where specifically for this. He started his way up (not using a rope but meh, who needs them) and was making decent time, especially considering his lack of sleep and food recently.

When he was half way up he looked out at the view before him. The early morning sun was shining through the clouds and onto the water making it sparkle, the wind carrying the smell of the sea. Roman smiled, he used to come here a lot when he and his brother where younger, it was one of the first places they had made.

 The memories where nice until they reach a certain point. Roman grimaced slightly, he didn’t like to think back to what happened, but the voice had brought those thoughts back to the fore front of his mind. He’s just a voice now, calm down. Roman told himself and tried to refocus on his task at hand.

Keep telling yourself that. The voice said, nearly making the prince loose his grip. He had been so lost in thought that he forgot the voice could hear everything he was thinking.

           Shut up. You’re nothing but a bad memory at this point, you have no power over me. Roman practically growled in his mind as he started to climb faster.

Do you really think that? Roman didn’t respond but kept climbing. Because he wasn’t sure. Ever since the voice had re appeared the red side had felt a feeling of dread. He didn’t like to think about the feeling too much, summing it up the feeling to unpleasant memories coming back. He shook his head and looked up, he was getting close to the top of the cliff at this point which put a small bit of ease into the prince’s mind.

           Roman was pretty tired when he finally pulled himself up to the top of the cliff. Not eating enough was starting to catch up to him and the thought made said side scowl. He sat up a little and looked around. The top of the cliff was covered in green grass that swayed in the wind and the tree line was only a few meters away. In total in was a rather lovely and calm place to be.

Maybe one of these days I’ll take Virgil here, I bet he would love the fireflies that come out at night.Roman smiled a bit at that thought, and looked up at the slightly stormy clouds. It looked like it would rain any minute and the creative side was glad he had finished his climb before that happened.

            He laid down on his back and tried to catch his breath, he was more tired than he thoughts he would be. As he looked behind him he saw a mountain in the distance and looked away. He absolutely hated that place even though he was the one who made it. That was the last place he had seen- just before he could finish the that thought a drop of rain fell on his nose.

A light rain started so the prince decided it was time to head back. He walked back to his door that was part of an ancient looking tree that was on the edge of the meadow. The entire way there the voice chastised the red side about being tired and not being strong enough. By the time Roman was back in his room his self esteem was extremely low. He changed into a pair of jeans and a comfy T-shirt and threw his now soaked outfit into a corner.

He wanted to throw himself onto his bed however sadly he knew he had work to do; but first he had to change his bandages.

His ribs were pretty much healed at this point so Roman hadn’t seen a problem with doing a bit of adventuring. He saw that it was 12 at this point and it felt like his day was dragging on forever. The prince sighed and went over to look at the work on his desk. The video he was working on was pretty simple, just Thomas having fun with his friends doing a few different challenges that have to do with musicals. He figured that he could give himself a little break and went to go get water for him and Alexander. He was certain that the others would be up at this point so he shapeshifter just a bit and made his clothes look a little bit nicer.

Man I’m using up a lot of energy today with summoning. Roman thought as he sighed and fixed his hair just a bit. He straitened his posture and strolled into the room unsurprised to see Logan writing something down at the table.

“Hey specks, what do you think of todays fine morning?” The princely character said with a faked smile. He grabbed two glasses of water and went to sit at the table. The logical side responded without even looking up from his work.

“Not bad, I was able to finish up my work pretty early so I decided to start on some of my own projects.”  A small smile was on the logical side’s face which made the prince curios. So he stood up and looked at the notebook in hand and saw a familiar creature drawn onto the page.

“How do you know about zip lions?” The creative side asked, clear confusion written on his face. Logan finally looked up.

“A zip lion?”  Roman nodded

“That’s what your drawing isn’t it? That’s clearly a drawing of Suzan, only her main looks like that.” Roman said tapping the part of the drawing that had a very fluffy main.

“So that’s what they’re  called.” Logan said looking back at his drawing. “Suzan was very nice by the way.” Roman went to go sit back in his chair.

“Yah but how do you even know her?” The logical side shrugged.

“Remus took me to the imagination yesterday.” Romans eyes went wide and he could never let up the opportunity to tease people.

“Wow didn’t know you and Remus went on a date.” Roman said with a smirk. Logan’s face turned bright red as he looked up from his notebook. He struggled to find anything to say. It was pretty funny to watch, the same Logan who almost always had something to say was speechless and that was quite the accomplishment in Roman’s book.

“Calm down I was just messing with you.” Roman said. He liked messing with his friends but he didn’t want to ruin Remus’s chances with the nerd. Logan re adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

“Well it most certainly wasn’t a date but it was nice. Your brother is quite the interesting person Roman.” Logan said with a soft smile. Roman smiled. He definitely has a crush on Remus. Of course instead of saying that the prince faked gaged.

“Hearing complements about my brother is killing me.” Logan rolled his eyes. The prince got up and stretched, though it did hurt his side a bit.

“Well, I have script to finish. Bye specks.” Logan nodded to him and Roman went back to his room. He gave the water to Alexander and the fly trap gave a sound similar to purring. The creative side smiled and petted the plant’s head a few times before going over to his desk. He finished up his work relatively quickly and putt his materials away. He didn’t have much else to do so he decided that he would just watch some Disney shows.

           After selecting Gravity Falls the creative side jumped into his bed and wrapped himself in a blanket. Since the day had been rather stressful he decided that he would try to relax before Patton called them all to get dinner. As the prince fell asleep the voice started to think. He absolutely hated Roman but he needed him for the mean time to make his plan work. Just you wait Roman, one day, you’ll be the one that’s nothing but a bad memory.

That took a while to write. Anyways I hope you’re all thoroughly worried for the future. It’s a lot of fun to make scenes creepy and stuff. Well, that all for now humans, have a good day, bye!

Tag list:

@lovelivingmydreams

[dumbthotastrology]

a dumb thots guide to moon signs

omg i have been gone for so long uhhhh just flaky gemini things. anyways hey girlies so today were gonna talk about your moon signs. the specifics of what each moon sign has in store, and about moon signs in general.

about moon signs:

while a sun sign can be an overall idea of your personality and overall self, a moon sign is what rules your inner-self and your emotions. It creates your needs and wants, and makes the base for your subconscious and your soul. your moon sign can also describe how you respond to crisis basically your moon sign explains why y'all are so fucked up.

your moon sign also can tell who you’re compatible with emotionally. although compatibility is a mix of other planets and other non-astrological factors, your moon sign is a huge component of the way you think and process things, which is generally a huge part of compatibility and intellectual attraction. oooh, big words.

also, like what i said in my previous post “a dumb thots guide to the planets” some people relate to their moon sign waaaay more than their sun sign, probably because there are less stereotypes and stigmas around moon signs. if you’re naturally a very emotional, intuitive, or dark person you might feel more attracted to your moon sign because your feelings and emotions are a large part of your thought-process.

so children, let's get into each moon sign and what they mean

aries moon: we stan most aries, so we also stan aries moons. these folks tell it how it is and aren’t afraid to speak their mind. aries moons are bold and enthusiastic with their life choices. they’re optimistic, even through tough times. they know what they want all the time, but y'all aries moons don’t know the difference between needs and wants because of your intensity in regards to passion and desire. they can be moody and temperamental if they don’t get what they want or life is going rough for them. In life, it's hard to create a balance because they go through plenty of ups and downs constantly. they might feel destructive towards other people or even towards themselves. aries moons are naturally dominant, so let's all embrace our little baby lunar christian greys.

taurus moon: okay so let's talk about our babies with taurus moons. the main traits of a moon sign in taurus is that they crave stability, reliability, and comfort. people with taurus moons tend to stay away from sketchy or messy situations because they’re not super adaptable to change. they take pride in their emotional stability and use it as their driving force (and they usually take charge anyway.) those with moons in taurus can be stubborn and selfish at times, and can get stuck in routines although that's not the end of the world for them. if you have a sun or moon (or just have a lot of taurus in your chart) you can suffer from taurus-style depression at times, which makes the person very lazy, tired, and tend to overeat or do a lotttt of retail therapy. but on the brighter side, if you’re in a relationship with them, they are more committed, helllllaaa sensual (get itttt), loyal, and you won’t expect a break up for a longggg time

gemini moon: (geminis, i love you and i support you) those with moons in gemini are charming and witty, just like the gemini sun signs. they are social butterflies and like to organize or make plans frequently otherwise they’ll get fussy. they're great communicators and get along with a lot of people, but since gemini moons are such people pleasers, they might get too involved with the opinions and emotions of other people and tend to ignore their own feelings or purpose. deep shit. restlessness is common in lunar geminis because they always need to be stimulated with something (talking, reading, watching tv, etc.) also nervousness and moodiness can be a problem in these people, leading to frustration and being snappy. but overall, we love you geminis.

cancer moon: cancer moons are little babies, in a good way. they’re extremely sensitive, intuitive, and they feel so damn much. our cancer moon girlies make incredible friends and parents, however be a bit cautious around them. since they feel so much, they can be defensive, moody, or more upset than normal when they’re hurt or unhappy. if you hurt cancer moons, good luck bud. they tend to close off or shut down when hurt, and take a while to heal. along with this, they hold grudges for a long time, and tend to keep their guard up if they somehow forgive you. just don't be playin with their feelings… don't do it. To heal and regroup, cancer moons like to stick with what they know and what they’re comfortable with, and many can be homebodied. these people have a lively imagination and are extremely intuitive, leading to possible psychic abilities or intentions. these people also tend to be natural empaths, which can lead to feeling emotionally bogged down from other people depending on you, but being an empath is a good thing because it shows your loyalty and compassion. love u.

leo moon: leo moons are our fun friends that have been by our side for years. these girlies are self confident, creative, and has an inspiring and extroverted energy. leo moons know their se;f worth, and won’t put up with anything less. they can be dominant at times, but their motivation for this dominance is generally respect. their feelings are intense and they don’t mess around when it comes to their ambitions and desires. a downside of leo moons though, is that they are super extra. some can see you as over the top or loud, and at times this can make you feel misunderstood. you may seem to be an attention whore sometimes, but through your passion and loyalty those close to you know that your intentions are good. keep bein your extra ass selves, leo moons. we love you.

virgo moon: those with virgo moons can be a little tricky to understand, but there are definitely some pros, you guys aren't all fucked up. lunar virgos really stan their routine, which make them naturally self-disciplined so they don't fall out of that routine. they tend to like exercising, self care, and love to develop new hobbies. they also love to help others, and you'll find that lunar virgos are wholesome, loyal, and sensitive in the best way possible. their routine is a need for them, and if they don’t have it they can get high-strung and aggravated. they can also get finicky and specific about how things go in their lives, which isn’t always a bad thing. if lunar virgos suffer from trauma or rough-patches, they might try to bottle their emotions up which will manifest later on in life. similar to lunar scorpios, virgo moons might experience issues with digestion due to their emotional stresses. some have described that those with virgo moons might have eating disorders due to nervous system or psychological factors. these people might also have controlling fears or issues, so as i said these people can be a little fucked up but their gigantic hearts and self determination make up for it and help them get through it. (and aren't we all a little fucked up out here?)

libra moon: lunar libras (ugh doesn't that sound so pretty?) are just beautiful little babies. they have a natural artsy and peaceful personality that draws you into them. they’re amazing at communicating and socializing, and one of their main goals seem to be pleasing people in all aspects. libra moons are amazing partners, and they often search for a partner due to the fact that they strongly dislike being without a significant other. it makes them feel out of balance and lonely at times. they seem to steady themselves based on the way others depend on them and their relationships, but this can lead to distress if tensions exist within an important relationship in their lives. the dark side of lunar libras isn’t as scary as others think, but can become an issue if taken out of hand. they might become dependent on others and their significant other which can, in turn, hurt them in the long run from a loneliness or longing after a break in the path. ooh, poetic.

scorpio moon: scorpio moons dont fuck around. (i have a scorpio moon, so be scared bitch.) to be frank, scorpio moons are intense and emotional. they have a higher understanding of the human thought process and can be deeply connected to emotions and vibes. these people are affected not only by their own emotions, but from others emotions as well. they pick up on certain situations because of the energy radiating off of it, making them helllllaaaa intuitive. lunar scorpios are INTENSE when it comes to love, and might be afraid of committing if they’ve been hurt in the past. they have a strong emotional need for drama or frequent change, and if they dont express their feleings they could even get physically sick (ive personally experienced a lot of stomach issues and nausea.) scorpio moons are defensive when it comes to love (even if they crave it) because they have a fear of betrayal or being hurt. through all of these intense shit though, they’re ambitious, sensual (!!!), creative, and committed. we been knew.

sagittarius moon: sagittarius moons are our party people. they’re fun, sociable, and extroverted. they love meeting new people and doing new things, it makes them thrive. they like to go through life with an easygoing nature, and generally aren't super negative. sometimes they’re even overly optimistic, and get their hopes up way too much which in the end will crush them if something goes poorly. when life isn't in their favor or things don't go their way, they get tf out of the situation or try to physically escape. they want to feel balanced at all times. to other people (especially more home-bodied signs) see sag moons as intimidating or annoying, but sag moons are very easy to get along with and will get along with almost anybody. basically, lunar sags are that one friend that you can never stay mad at, and want to hang out with all the time. we really do stan.

capricorn moon: our capricorn moon are our little home bodied babies. we love you. the underlying theme of most lunar capricorns is that they’re steady and reliable, and like to keep themselves that way. they like to surround their lifestyle around goal-setting, and have soooo freakin much ambition and determination. at some points, capricorn moons might start getting a little too obsessed with their goals, like girlies please calm down every once in a while. they want to better themselves all the time, and that can lead to isolation or feelings of loneliness. lunar capricorns have emotions that are a bit more logical and darker than some, and that makes them a bit more emotionally closed off because they don't want to kill the vibe or share what's on their mind if its not important. they seem cold to others because they like to make themselves seem put together allllll the time. like seriously. overall, all these kittygirls want is to be in control and to have structure, and we’ll let you have it, since you mainly aren’t that problematic.

aquarius moon: so our little aquarius moons are kinda weird in nature, but SO bright and independent, which a lot of us admire. lunar aquarians care a lot about what others think, so they try to bury any negative emotions (like pettiness or jealousy) so they don't seem unattractive. because of this, they might seem closed off, but most times you’ll receive more of an emotional connection once you get to know them. they are very receptive to others emotions and frequencies, and ponder the meaning of life and the universe as they feed on deeper and darker emotions. often times, they emotionally detach themselves from others and tend to feel lonely. they’re natural loners, but on the bright side they don't let their loneliness get in the way of their overarching purpose (for the most part.) the odd thing is, they take in so much energy and emotion from other, and some may call that an empath, but to others they might seem like they lack compassion because they emotionally shut off. we love them anyways though, because lunar aquarians are amazing friends and give people lots of independence and space to be themselves, and they expect the same.

pisces moon: our lunar pisceans (google told me that term) are dreamy and imaginative girlies. they’re SO empathetic and love to connect with others, and that makes many people confide and take comfort in them. they might become so involved in others (they especially root for the underdog and those less fortunate) that they lose track of themselves. if people take advantage of pisces moons’ empathy, the pisces moon will learn quickly and bounce back. their huge and accepting heart makes them amazing partners and friends because they’ll cherish you. (and y'all BETTER cherish them too i swear to god.) the downside to lunar pisceans though, is that they involve themselves in others so much that they become overloaded with emotion that they might feel numb or become spaced out. a supppperrr common thing in a pisces moon is zoning out to give their brain a break. pisces moons need time to recharge and step back to breathe. hey, we get it. life can be stressful af sometimes, especially for someone who feels everything.

the next dumb thots guide will be a dumb thots guide to the elements of astrology. (hopefully it wont take five billion years) bettttttt 

-vi (gemini sun, scorpio moon, gemini rising) posted 6/15/19

[kayluh1915]

Beautiful People

Paring(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Words: 5,378

Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Medication Discussions, Insecurities, and Panic Attacks.

You and Pedro have been secretly dating for a few months now after a chance meeting. You both agreed that it was time to reveal your relationship to the public and chose to do so by accompanying him at The Oscars, but your anxiety does a great job of making you think that you don't deserve it.

DISCLAIMER!

This story is based on the song Beautiful People by Ed Sheeran & Khalid, but this IS NOT a songfic. It just gave me this vibe of Pedro walking down the red carpet with someone who doesn't quite feel like they belong and he comforts her by saying he doesn't really belong either and proceeds to list why they're better off because of it. I dunno, It just sounded sweet.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

You can also follow me on Twitter if you'd like. My life is boring, but I might be able to make you laugh if I’m lucky.

Enjoy!

(PS: Pepe is a real person. He was my Spanish teacher my first semester of college... and yes, he really went to Cincinnati every Friday to gamble)

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

The frigid February air was like icicles on your skin, sending a full-blown shiver down your spine as you hurried out of the Science building and towards the dining hall. It was nearly noon and you’ve had only had a banana and a bottle of water this morning, so lunch sounded pretty great right about now… maybe a cup of hot cocoa as well.

The dining hall was about a three-minute walk from the Science building, more than enough time for the cold to seep through the layers of your coat and deep into your bones. The possibility of a cup of cocoa turned into an inevitability, you running for the hot beverage machine as soon as your student ID was swiped.

You sat at your usual spot, hanging your backpack on the back of the chair before taking a greedy sip of the hot drink. The warmth was a godsend, the sugary beverage warming your icy hands with a pleasant hum tumbling from your lips.

“You make noises like that in bed?” Someone asked, snapping you out of your warming daze. It was your roommate and closest friend, Lauren. You snorted at her remark, almost spitting out a sip of your drink.

“I thought you had Spanish class at noon?”

“Nah. It’s Friday, remember?”

“Oh yeah, gambling day.” Like you, Lauren was a music student. It was how you had met nearly four years ago. Like most music students, you both used the extra humanities credits you had earned in high school to bail you out of the required foreign language credit until university. You were doing fairly well so far, but it was because you had a decent teacher. She wasn’t the best, but she was alright.

Lauren’s was just… something else.

On the first day of class, he told his students to call him “Pepe” because he didn’t do the “formal shit.” He also said that there would never be a class on Friday’s because he goes up to Cincinnati to gamble with his buddies. Why he didn’t just put down that his classes were only on Monday and Wednesday were beyond you.

“Yeah. Whatever, though right?” Lauren continued. “I’m not complaining about one less day of class.” You smirked mischievously.

“No, but your Spanish is…” Lauren scoffed, only causing you to laugh harder into your cup.

“Bitch, you shut the fuck up. You can’t speak the damn language either.” You shrugged.

“You’re not wrong, but at least I’m learning more than you are with Pepe.” Lauren groaned.

“Fuck you. Come on, let’s grab some grub.” You stood up and grabbed your backpack, throwing away your empty drink cup to grab something to eat. You settled on your usual favorite and sat back down with Lauren who had somehow already made it halfway through her plate.

“God, slow down.” You teased as you hung your backpack back on the chair.

“I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. Cut a bitch a break.” You shook your head, digging into your own plate, but at a much slower pace. You both sat in comfortable silence, enjoying your meals as the indecent chatter of the surrounding students and meme music playing from the jukebox continued on.

“So,” Lauren said, breaking the silence as she sat down her drink. “What are you doing this weekend?” You froze at her question but played it off the best you could. Any hint of hesitation would send her into a frenzy of questions that you weren’t prepared to answer.

“I’m going in to see Mom. Maybe stop by my Mamaw’s too.” Lauren’s shoulders slumped.

“Damn, that’s too bad. Devon invited us over to his Oscar watch party tomorrow night. Figured you might want to come along since you’re into that sort of thing.” 

You swallowed hard at the mention of The Oscars. Just play it cool… don’t. fucking. panic.

“Normally I would, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen Mom. You know how she gets when I don’t come to visit for a while.” Lauren nodded her head in understanding, knowing full well of how your Mom was after living with you for two years.

Little did she know that you had just seen your mother last weekend.

“I understand, boo. I’ll let him know you can’t make it. When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I’m done here. I packed my stuff this morning so I could just go. Trying to beat the traffic as much as possible.” She nodded in understanding.

“Well, I hope you have a good time with your Mom. Say hi to her for me, will you?” You internally sighed a breath in relief. How your big mouth managed to keep him a secret all this time let alone this was beyond you, but you managed to pull it off somehow.

“Yeah, sure.”

After you finished eating, you hugged Lauren goodbye and went back to your dorm long enough to drop off the books you didn’t need and pick up your suitcase. You went through your mental checklist one last time and locked your door behind you as you left.

You unlocked your car and threw your stuff into the backseat, making your way towards the interstate as soon as you left the college.

Home was about a two or three-hour drive down south, but where you were really going was about a 40-minute drive north. You put on some music as you cruise down the interstate, your nervousness slowly increasing the closer you got to your destination.

Your hands shook on the steering wheel, you bounced your left knee furiously, and you were biting your lip… pretty hard. You thought about reaching into your purse for the “take as needed” anxiety medication your psychiatrist prescribed you but decided to hold off on it a little longer. Maybe it’d taper off when you got to the airport.

It didn’t.

You had flown before, but that had been years ago when your micro home town had some kind of festival thing and gave free airplane rides. This commercial airline stuff was something entirely new to you which was already nerve wreaking, but the unexpected bustle of such a smaller airport made it worse.

Weeks before when you first booked the flight to Los Angles, you did as much research as possible to make sure that you knew the “norms” and guidelines of all the airports you were going to since there were no direct flights available. You were as prepared as anyone could be, but you were still extremely nervous and all the foot traffic only made it worse.

You went through security without any qualms and took a seat to wait for your flight to begin boarding. You pulled out your phone and texted your Mom and Lauren before someone walked up to you in your peripheral.

“Excuse, miss?” You looked up from your phone to come face to face with an older gentleman. He looked to be in his early 50’s with salt and peppered hair and a kind smile. He asked you your name and you confirmed with a nod.

“Sorry to disturb you, but your private flight is prepared to depart whenever you’re ready, Miss.”

...Excuse you, what?

“P-Private flight? But I-... I paid for an American Airlines flight.” The man nodded.

“Yes, but Mr. Pascal has sent a private jet to retrieve you. He was fairly insistent to make sure that you boarded.” You sighed heavily. You told him that a two-stop economy flight that you paid for was more than fine, but the thought of you doing anything like a normal person seemed to bother him for some reason.

“Okay. I-I guess I’m ready to go then.” The man smiled.

“Of course, Miss. May I take your bags for you?” You hesitated.

You had never been waited on like this before and you weren’t quite sure how to feel or respond to it. You were perfectly capable of carrying your own stuff and this guy probably wasn’t getting paid enough to carry some lucky college student’s stuff, but was it rude to say no even if you did so in a polite manner? So, you just agreed and handed him over your suitcase and backpack.

You followed him outside and over to a small commercial jet, a woman who looked to be around her mid 30’s standing right by the entrance of the aircraft.

“Welcome aboard, Miss. I’m Kendall Bishop and I’m your captain for today. If you’ll go ahead and take a seat and buckle your seat belt, we’ll depart shortly. I do ask, however, that you remain seated and keep your seat belt fastened until Mr. Clements informs you that it is safe to move about the cabin. Do you have any questions for me before we begin our descent?”

You smiled politely at her and shook your head.

Upon entering the cabin, you were at a complete loss for words. It was easily the fanciest thing you’d ever seen. Leather seats, stocked alcohol shelves, an endless assortment of snacks, a TV, even a fucking bed of all things. The man, Mr. Clements you assumed, gestured towards the seat closest to you. You sat down and buckled your seat belt like you were told to do.

Mr. Clements then reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, gesturing for you to take it.

“Mr. Pascal requested I hand this to you as soon as you board.” You took the envelope out of his hands, looking down at it with a curious gaze. On the back of it had your name scribbled onto it in familiar handwriting. You’d know it anywhere after reading so many letters from him.

“Please enjoy your flight and let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.” You thanked him with another nod, turning the envelope around and tearing it open. The plane prepared to take off as you read.

Mi Abeja,

I know you wanted and paid for a normal flight, but the academy offered to fly you to me privately last second. I was going to ask you if you were okay with it, but you were in class and your phone was off and I had to let them know something before my table read this morning. You work and study so hard and deserve to be pampered so I told them yes. They reimbursed what you paid for your ticket and I’ll give that to you once you get here.

I hope the unexpected change didn’t spike your anxiety too much. I know you’re nervous about this whole thing to begin with and I probably just made it worse. I’m sorry if I did.

 I’ll be there to pick you up as soon as you land at LAX.

Love you,

Pedro. <3 <3 

Your heart soared at his words, leaning back in your seat and looking out of the nearby window just in time to watch the plane lift up from the runway.

________________________

Four hours later, Mr. Clements informed you that you would be landing shortly. Your heart leaped up in your chest as you put your phone back into your backpack and fastened your seat belt.

It had been a few weeks since you’d last seen him and you were nearly vibrating with excitement by the time the wheels touched down on the runway. Mr. Clements offered to take your things again. You still weren’t sure if it was rude to turn him down or not and you didn’t want to ask and risk looking like a moron, so you agreed and handed over your backpack.

The captain opened up the door and exchanged pleasantries with you as you stepped off the plane, but you barely heard her over the pounding of your own heart. As soon as you looked up from the ramp, you saw him. He was there just like he promised he’d be, standing by his car and wearing his favorite pair of sunglasses all while smiling at you with that blinding smile.

Your sneakers barely touched the tarmac before you were sprinting for him. He held out his arms for you and made a small sound when you collided with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his chest. One of his hands caressed the back of your head, holding you to him tightly as the other one held on to your waist.

“I’ve missed you so much, Abeja.” He muttered against the crown of your head. You let go of him long enough to reach up and kiss him, tangling your hand into his dark curls. “Did you have a good flight?” He asked after you pulled away.

“I did. I was a little nervous at first, but I’m okay now.” Pedro gave you a saddened look.

“I’m sorry. I know it was unexpected and didn’t mean to hike you up, I just figured yo-” You put your hand over his mouth.

“It wasn’t your fault, Pedro. I’m just… not used to this… any of it.” He placed a gentle kiss to your fingers, taking your wrist into his hand and gently taking it off of his mouth.

“Please tell me you at least ate something.“ You nodded.

“I ate with Lauren before I left for the airport. She actually invited me to an Oscar watch party this guy named Devon is hosting. I played it cool just like we practiced, but it took everything in me not to freak out.” Pedro giggled, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Isn’t she in for a surprise?” You barely smiled, nodding gently. You’ve been trying not to think about it, but the idea of you being on display to the entire world made your stomach churn and your knees weak. You were just a first-generation college student from the middle of nowhere, yet here you are in the arms of Pedro Pascal about to walk down the runway of the most prestigious award show in less than 24 hours.

“... Yeah.” You eventually answered. Pedro noticed the change in your demeanor and frowned, placing a kiss on the wrist he was still holding and caressing it gently with his thumb.

“We don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, you know? We can always go with plan B.” You shook your head vigorously.

“No, no, no! I-I want people to know… I just… all so new.” Pedro smiled at you sympathetically, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

“Just promise you’ll let me know if it ever becomes too much for you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” You look up into his mocha gaze, the butterflies in your stomach making you forget about your self-doubt if only for a few seconds.

“I promise.”

________________________

That evening you were curled up with Pedro in the hotel bed, empty take-out containers discarded onto the nearby nightstand as you watched The Shining together. He was fully engrossed in the movie, his fingers idly playing with your hair. You had tried to focus on the movie. You really did, but you’ve seen the damn thing a million times. Laughing at memes on Reddit sounded more appealing so that’s what you were doing.

“You know, I really miss you when you’re not with me.” Pedro said after a while. You looked up from your phone and up at his face.

“I miss you too. Music school sucks and I can’t cuddle Lauren… well, I can but it would be awkward.” Pedro laughed, caressing your cheek with his knuckle.

“Tomorrow, our stylists will be here around noon. I know you’re going to be nervous all day and will probably avoid eating, so I’m going to make sure you get up with me and eat a proper breakfast.” You groaned quietly.

“You won’t let me sleep in? Even on a Saturday?” You fake-pouted. Pedro tapped your nose gently with his finger.

“Not when tomorrow is such an important day. I don’t want you nervous on an empty stomach.” You both went back to what you were doing for a minute.

“You did bring your medication, didn’t you?” You hesitated before nodding.

“Yes.”

“Good. You’ll have something in case it gets too intense. Getting you to take it will be another story, though.” You didn’t say anything, favoring instead to raise up from your reclined position to swing your leg over his waist to straddle him. His hands instantly went to your hips, gently caressing them with his large hands.

“You’re so beautiful, Abeja.” He said after a while of looking you over and running his hands over your body. You smiled at him and leaned down to give him a kiss. It was pretty standard as far as kisses go, but when you pulled away you were both looking at one another with a fiery intent and slowly went back in for another. This one searing and far more passionate.

Pedro groaned deep in his throat as your tongues collide, the kiss deepening far beyond your original intent.

You weren’t complaining.

________________________

Pedro’s alarm going off scared the living hell out of you. You had been awake since 4 am, trying your best to go back to sleep, but it just never happened. When you finally gave up around 6:30, you grabbed your backpack and sat at the desk the hotel provided and did your weekend homework. You hadn’t realized that you were that engrossed in it until his alarm buzzed you out of it.

He groaned quietly and reached over to silence it, rolling back over and reaching out to the other side of the bed looking for you. When he noticed that you were gone, he raised up from the sheets and looked around the room. His hair was an absolute nightmare, sticking up in various directions as he stretched out his back and yawned loudly.

“Thought you wanted to sleep in.” He teased after he found you at the desk.

“You said you were going to wake me up early. Figured I might get some work done.” Concern then donned on his brow.

“Honey, how long have you been up?”

“Not long,” you lie. “I wanted to get some work done so I just got up at my usual time.” Pedro got out of bed and padded over to you, rubbing your shoulders and placing a kiss atop your head.

“You work too hard. You should take a break while you can.” You lolled your head back, Pedro’s hands rubbing your shoulders feeling absolutely amazing.

“I’ll do whatever you say as long as you keep doing that.” He laughed, kissing your cheek and heading to the bathroom.

________________________

You didn’t want to question the professional, you really didn’t. But after the third layer of concealer, you just had to.

“That’s a lot of concealer.” The makeup artist laughed.

“I know, I’m sorry. Use some cream for those bags next time and I promise you won’t need as much.”

You didn’t speak after that, allowing the hair and makeup artist to finish you up while they gossiped back and forth with each other. They made other side comments like that to you here and there. They weren’t necessarily rude so you couldn’t really say anything, but they did little for your already rock-bottom self-esteem.

The artist put a dark shade of lipstick on your lips, making a triumphant noise when she finished.

“Didn’t have the best canvas, but you look fabulous sweetheart! Smile with your mouth closed and you’ll be a knockout!” The makeup artist and hairstylist gathered up their things, leaving you sitting there in your robe staring at the floor and hoping they leave fast.

When they finally left, you got up from the bed and walked over to the full-bodied mirror. You showed your teeth and started looking over them. You never thought they looked too bad. Sure, they were crooked and had some spacing, but they were okay. Braces were expensive and playing a brass instrument with braces is a death sentence for lips.

What if you were wrong about them looking okay all this time? Maybe you should have taken out that loan and a semester off to fix your teeth…

Your stylist came in shortly after. He was quieter than the others had been and much nicer which you were thankful for as you changed into the white dress they had picked for you. When you came out, the stylist smiled and hooped.

“You look gorgeous!” You finished off your look with matching jewelry and a clutch purse, sitting down on the bed to put on your heels.

“It took me forever to find a pair of acceptable wedges for you, sweetheart. I don’t know why you didn’t just tough it out for one night, but hey. I get it. Country girls don’t like heels and that’s okay! It worked out.”

Again, not necessarily rude… but damn.

________________________

You were waiting in the lobby for Pedro to come out, bouncing your leg nervously and trying to remember not to touch your eyes or bite your lip because of the makeup. When you saw him step off the elevator, your breath caught in your throat. His hair was slicked back and his facial hair neatly trimmed, the black velvet suit hugging his broad shoulders perfectly.

“Wow…” He muttered, looking you up and down. “You look absolutely stunning, Abeja.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You replied, playing with his bow tie.

“Hey, hey, no. Don’t touch it. I don’t know how to tie it back if it comes loose.” You laughed and shook your head.

“Fine… I’ll unwrap my present later.” Pedro’s own breath caught as you winked up at him. He cleared his throat and composed himself, offering you his arm.

“Ready?” You swallowed and nodded, taking his arm for him to escort you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

________________________

You were in line for the red carpet, the flashing cameras of the paparazzi already blinding and you were still pretty far back. Your stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising up but nothing happening. Pedro took your shaking hand into his and squeezed it gently.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing how tense you were and only grew worse the closer you got.

“... fine.”

“Plan B’s still an option if you need it, Abeja. You have your medicine you can take too.” You shook your head, looking back at him to flash him a smile.

“I’m good.” You could tell that he didn’t buy your bullshit. Not even for a moment. He didn’t say anything, though, opting only to lift your hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

“I’ll be right there beside you the entire time, honey. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or need to leave, you let me know.” You nodded at him, accepting a kiss from him before looking back out the window of the limo.

Your turn came up way sooner than you would have liked, the greeter opening up the limo door as soon as the car stopped and allowing Pedro to step out into the public eye. The photographers went nuts, the flashing lights and screams from fans intimidating you more than you thought they would.

What the fuck were you thinking? You’re just some tired ass music student. You don’t belong here with all these people.

You almost chickened out and stayed in the car but when Pedro turned towards you and offered his hand you took it anyway even though your mind was screaming for you not to. Just the gentle touch of his calloused hand on yours grounded you enough to carefully step out of the limo, making sure that nothing happens to your dress.

You could hear the sounds of the crowd die down for a moment as they all started muttering to themselves. Your hand was shaking in Pedro’s larger one, the photographers gasping as soon as they saw your face. They started taking pictures faster than they ever had. The bombardment of flashing lights blinded you for a moment, but you adjusted to them quickly.

Pedro let go of your hand and put it on your back, gently leading you where you’re supposed to go.

“Okay?” He asked as he wrapped his arm around you and brought you close. You nodded. You weren’t comfortable in the slightest, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. While both of you posed for pictures, people from the group of photographers said a lot of things to both of you. Some were kind, others were funny and got a good laugh out of you. There were also a few who were very rude, but they had been pushed aside by the others.

Overall, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you were expecting… but you were glad it was over.

________________________

You were standing aside checking your phone while Pedro did an interview with some of the press. He had offered you to be with him, but the red carpet had been more than enough fame for you. Your phone was on “do not disturb” mode, but you could still see all the notifications coming in. Your Mom, Dad, Lauren, and other friends bombarding you with messages basically asking what the fuck. You didn’t have the time to reply, so you didn’t open any of them.

Once Pedro was done with his interviews, he escorted you into the main hall where he introduced you to some of his friends and colleagues along the way. You considered it an honor to meet the people most only ever dreamed of, but you knew you didn’t deserve it. Someone else should be here, not you.

When you found your seats, Pedro offered you his hand. You took it and allowed him to seat you before he took his next to you and wrapped his arm around the back of the seat. The show started shortly after.

________________________

“And the Oscar goes to…” You held onto Pedro’s hand tightly as they opened up the envelope, your shaking hands encased in his. He had told you when he had been nominated that he didn’t expect to win it, but you could tell he had some hope as he tensely watched them read the card.

“Pedro Pascal.” You jumped up with Pedro, hugging him tightly as the audience broke out in cheers.

“You deserve it!” You told him, breaking away to give him a quick kiss. You watched him run up stage and accept the golden statue, walking up to the microphone with a few chuckles as he looked over the award.

“Wow, this is uhhh… this is incredible. Truly amazing.” He started. “I’d like to thank the Academy for this honor, my Mom and Dad who worked hard to raise me right and who supported me. My brother and two sisters for being there for me, mi Abeja for loving me unconditionally, and just… so many others. There are so many people in my life who have helped me get to this milestone and if I were to thank all of you, we’d be here all night. I love you all so very much and this truly… a dream come true. Thank you.

The crowd stands up and cheers loudly. You wanted to, but you were too busy trying to make sure your makeup doesn’t run down your face with a tissue from your clutch. Eventually, you give up trying and decide to go to the bathroom just to make sure everything still looks fine.

Your makeup looked just as flawless as it had before. You wish you would have known that the artist had used waterproof makeup so you could’ve properly celebrated Pedro’s achievement, but oh well. While you were there, you decided to use the bathroom. You didn’t have to go that bad, but might as well take care of it while you’re here.

While you were relieving yourself, you heard two other women come in.

“-ld for her. He needs to settle down with someone like us and around his age. Not some college student.” You froze solid when they realized that they were talking about you.

“I know. She isn’t even that pretty. Did you see her teeth? Do they not have braces where she comes from?”

“For real. Her body’s not that great either. Looks like she comes straight from the shack or something.”

“Wonder if that’s where he found her?” They both giggle.

“Either way, she doesn’t belong here.” You knew they were right, but you just couldn’t bare to listen anymore, pulling your underwear back up and fixing your dress after you flush the toilet.

You then run out of the bathroom, not even looking to see who the women were. It didn’t matter, though. They were right. You should have never came here and you couldn’t stay any longer.

You walked back to your seat and gently tugged on Pedro’s sleeve.

“C-Can we go… Please?” You ask, your voice shaking just as much as your hands. Pedro got up instantly when he saw the look on your face, grabbing his trophy, coat and your clutch. He didn’t ask questions as he placed his hand to the small of your back and began to escort you out of the theater.

By the time you got back into the limo you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The voices around you sounding like water as your vision became black around the edges. Oh God, is this what feels lie to die? You couldn’t die. Not now! You had so much to do, so much t-

Something extremely cold suddenly touched your face, the blackness around your vision fading slightly as you looked up to whoever had put something so damn cold on you.

You were instantly met with the warm eyes of your boyfriend, concern laced on his brow as he gently dabbed a cold washcloth over your face. You could see his mouth moving, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying over the pounding of your heart, but it eventually calmed down enough to where you could begin to hear him.

“There we go, bee… that’s it sweetheart. Nice and easy.” Your breathing slowly calmed down, Pedro cradling you in his arms as your panic attack faded.

“I should have never come here…” You muttered. “I don’t belong here. All these fancy dresses, the flashing cameras, nice cars… I don’t deserve any of this.” Pedro placed a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t say things like that, Abeja. You deserve this just as much as anyone. And as far as not belonging, trust me when I say I don’t either. And, frankly, I’m fine with that. All of these designer clothes, the mindless gossip, the broken homes, being surrounded by so many but still alone? That’s not really a life worth living. The world of Beautiful People is a lonely life, one that I would rather not live.”

You wasn’t sure what to say, so you just didn’t say anything, curling up as close as you could to him.

He made you take a dose of your anxiety medication when you got back to the hotel, taking it with a swig of water before laying down and curling up close to him. You laid your head on his shoulder, the sounds of his breathing and the gentle feeling of his hand caressing your own shoulder lulling you.

Right before you doze off, you heard him say:

“No matter what any of them has said, you’re perfect the way you are and deserve everything.”

________________________

You wake up the next morning still wrapped up in his arms. You lay there for a while just talking and enjoying one another’s company before he finally got up to use the bathroom.

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, turning off “do not disturb” mode for the first time since yesterday afternoon.

Your phone was overloaded. Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, everywhere was flooded. You didn’t even know where to begin.

Eventually, you just give up trying to put a dent into anything and returned Lauren’s list of missed calls. She answered on the second ring.

“You tell me every little detail, you sneaky bitch. And I mean everything!”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Crucible (part two)

[UK Tour; Carrie AU 2]

Part 1

Word count: 9240

TW: Child abuse, blood, the r-word again, emotional manipulation, minor implied sexual content (as in: one paragraph and nothing actually happens), underage drinking, vomit

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

-Eve Was Weak-

  “Jesus watches from the wall,

But his face is cold as stone

And if he loves me,

As she tells me,

Why do I feel so alone?”

Mulaney looked up from the notebook, which is studded with doodles of crosses and stars and hearts, and set his gaze on the teenager sitting across from him. Her arms are crossed over her chest again and she’s leaned back in her chair, jaw set thoughtfully. She’s got some sass, but was one of the easiest, most well-mannered people he’s spoken to for questioning before. Plus, she made the examination more fun with her snarky comments, which were even able to make his stoic partner who ran the camera, Madeline, chuckle or smile from time-to-time.

  “Any speculation as to who the author is?” 

  “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say Joan Seymour.” Katherine Howard said. That sass mentioned before slipped back into her voice, edging her words in a way that made Mulaney huff out an amused breath.

  “What do you suppose she’s trying to say?” Mulaney questioned.

  “Probably, ‘help me, my mother’s insane.’” Katherine responded.

  “Interesting.”

Katherine raised her eyebrows at him, sniffing. She’s poised and waiting.

  “Do you consider yourself anti-religious, Katherine?” Mulaney asked.

Katherine snorted a light laugh. “No.” She said. “I just think some people take it too far, that’s all.”

  “And you disapprove?”

  “Look--” Katherine uncoiled her arms and sat up straight. At Mulaney’s side, Madeline quirked a brow at her change in stance, intrigued. “I’m all for believing whatever it is that you believe, but you say ‘religion’ to me, and I’m thinking da Vinci’s Last Supper. Jesus looks sad. The apostles look miserable. I don’t want to go to that party!”

Mulaney blinked at her logic. Katherine looked back at him, then turned her gaze up thoughtfully. She drummed her pointer fingers against the tabletop.

  “Shouldn’t religion be more like Dogs Playing Poker?” She said.

  “Dogs playing…”

  “Poker.” Katherine finished for Mulaney. “I can’t tell you what any of the apostles are doing in The Last Supper. But I can tell you that the little white bulldog is holding an ace under the table.”

Mulaney unsuccessfully tried to smother a smile. Katherine caught it, grinning.

  “See?” She said. “That’s fun! I’m engaged! There’s wonderment and awe! That other stuff is just all ritual and punishment. And it’s way too weird and way too serious.” She leaned back again, studying Mulaney and Madeline’s expressions. “What? It is!”

------

Jane Seymour was a woman of many faces, and not in the mentally ill sort of way, although some people assumed she may have been harboring multiple personality disorder within her wretched brain. She had many masks to wear, some cold and stoic, others sinister and wicked, and a few that may have even been sweet and nurturing. When she was at the local laundromat she worked at in town, several customers reported how she would “look at them like she was assessing their souls”, like she was judging whether or not they deserved to go to heaven. She thought most of them were Godless and muttered about it constantly, regardless of if they could hear her or not. She simply did not care.

Many people thought she would never delve into the sexual world of intercourse, what with all her screws loose that warded away most men and her extreme devotion to Christ, so it was quite shocking to hear the screams that erupted from the Seymour bungalow May 13th, 2005. Police were called, but had to wait to get a search warrant, so they, along with several neighbors, sat on the curb for hours, listening to the piercing cries that split the street in two. By the time police finally burst into the house to locate the struggle, they thought they were too late when they reached the master bedroom, which was covered in blood. But then they saw the woman rocking back and forth on the soaked bed, holding a tiny red baby with tufts of whitish hair to her left breast and everything clicked into place.

Several believed this woman was not fit to raise a child for obvious reasons, but police had no right to take a baby away from its mother, so the infant stayed and grew up in the house she was born in. It wasn’t like there was any place she could go, anyway. Jane’s husband was nowhere to be found. 

Henry Tudor is--was--had been a mountain of a man. His arms were like truck tires, round and firm to the touch. He had broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and a huge body to go along with his already giant frame. Coppery gold hair framed his head and his bright sapphire blue eyes struck a stare that could put someone six feet under. Every single aspect of the man’s body boasted of an indestructible juggernaut.

And yet, he hasn’t been seen in fifteen years.

Rumors bubbled up. They always did. Some speculated he ran away to avoid the burden of taking care of a child or to simply get away from his insane wife. Others, mainly rowdy teenagers itching for drama, said Jane killed him and sacrificed his body to the Lord. Because of that, stories of the Seymour bungalow being haunted were created, although there was no proof of anything of the sort. Because they weren’t true. But Jane Seymour had been out to kill.

Her girl-spawn had barely been a few months old at the time. She laid in her homemade crib, gurgling and laughing, staring with strange blue eyes up at a mobile that was made for her. Jane crept up to her and aimed a knife for her throat.

Henry stopped her.

  “You shall name her Johanna,” He had rumbled, easing Jane’s hand back to her side. “Joan for short.”

  “Like Joan of Arc.” Jane had observed.

  “Yes,” Henry had said.

  “Hm.” Jane had peered down at the wriggling little beast. “I suppose that does make it slightly less Godless.”

  “Yes,” Henry had said again. “Wait and see.”

And then, he was gone, disappearing into the night and never coming back.

Jane should not have let him stop her.

The child, of course, did not know this.

Joan slipped through the front door, but not without noticing a few neighbors peeking avidly out of their own windows, ears pricked. The whole neighborhood, possibly even the entire city, was always so interested in every little detail of the Seymour family’s lives. At least a few of them actually had the decency to duck back inside when they saw her coming up the sidewalk. One didn’t even notice her, it seemed, because he was still staring when she disappeared inside, while another was only pretending to not snoop while she fussed unnecessarily over her rose garden. Joan shot the flowers a sharp look, willing them to burst out of the ground and bite the lady’s nose off, but the front door closed behind her before she could see if anything happened. From the silence outside, she assumed nothing did.

(damn stupid woman wish she’d just go blind)

The smell of cinnamon was drifting through the entrance hallway. Maroon and orange (never red) candles were lit up throughout the downstairs area; Mama always preferred their warm glow over the harsh fluorescence of the overhead lights. Mama’s favorite radio station, WORT Radio, could be heard playing from the kitchen, along with the sound of singing.

Mama’s singing.

  “Jesus, possess me!

Sweet savior, be my shepherd

Bless each endeavor

Till I finally join you forever”

A giddy tingling sensation zipped up through Joan’s spine. She always loved the sound of Mama’s singing. Her voice was so silken and honey-slicked, like the gentle croon of an angel. Joan said she should join a gospel, that she would be the best singer in the entire group, but Mama would always wave this off with a dismissive hand and a chuckle.

Joan ventured further into the house, feeling lighter and lighter with each step. She entered the lounge, where a Black Forest cuckoo clock clucked peacefully on the wall. There were many religious pictures and crucifixes in here, but Joan’s favorite was the photo of Jesus leading a herd of baby lambs through a beautiful flowered field. It radiated so much innocence, unlike all the other paintings of punishment and hellfire and sin. It was hung up beside the huge wooden cross with reddened edges over the unused fireplace. Joan did her best to never look at that decoration in particular.

Weaving around the brown felt couch and two moth-eaten velvet throne chairs facing each other, Joan glided into the kitchen. It was an old kitchen indeed, with an oven that squealed like a dying pig when opened and a sputtering gas stove, but everything worked perfectly fine for the two of them.

Two…

  “Fly me free of temptation

And the flames of Hell's devastation

Then He will take me

And wash me in the river

I will make celebration

In the joy of final 

The might of final 

The fire of final Salvation!”

There was Mama, singing along to the song playing from an old radio on the counter, her back to Joan. 

She was a moderately sized woman, but had a strong, corded neck and incredibly muscled hands from years of working at the local laundromat. Honey blonde hair framed her face, which was quite beautiful in a weird, overzealous religious way. Reaching brown roots slithered like snakes from her scalp, with only a few white hairs visible. Despite being in her forties, her complexion was more weathered by hardship and discipline than age. Piercing golden brown eyes flickered when she finally noticed her daughter standing there and a smile broke out on her pale pink lips.

  “Mama,” Joan said breathily, unable to bite back her giddy grin. 

  “Ah, Joan,” Mama said, “there’s my sweet girl.” And then she opened her strong arms out wide and Joan darted into them instantly, nestling into her embrace. Mama smelled like honey and laundry detergent. “You’re home early.”

Joan felt her lower stomach twinge and she leaned a little closer into Mama’s chest. She would keep her mouth shut about the incident at school for now. Mama was in a good mood; no need to go and mess that up.

  “School--ended sooner than usual.” Joan said, internally wincing. She hated lying, always fearing that she would be struck dead the moment the fib rolled off her tongue, but she would correct herself and tell the truth soon.

Mama hummed. “I see.” She pulled away and turned back to the counter, where she had been shaping bread dough with her wolf-like hands. “Dinner won’t be ready for awhile.”

  “That’s okay,” Joan said. “I can wait.”

Mama hummed again. Joan fidgeted anxiously behind her.

  “Is everything alright, my darling?” Mama asked, concern in her smooth voice.

  “Yes, Mama,” Joan answered. “Just-- umm-- may I go shower?”

Mama chuckled. “Of course, dear.”

  “Thank you, Mama.” Joan gave her another quick hug, then scurried up the creaky wooden stairs to her room.

Filthy. She suddenly felt so filthy. She had showered barely an hour ago, but grime seemed to be crawling all over her. Would Mama be safe from it? Was it bad that she touched her?

She tried to remember what Miss Aragon had told her. About this being…

  “Normal.” Miss Aragon said. “It’s perfectly normal, Joan. Every girl goes through it.”

Joan whimpered. The spattered mess between her legs had been wiped away by Miss Aragon, a humiliation she would never be able to live down, and she was now fully dressed again, but her clothes felt too tight, especially around her groin. It felt like there were eels alive and writhing inside of her. She squirmed on the grey couch she was seated on in Miss Aragon’s office, a place where most students were forbidden to go into.

  “My skin feels weird,” Joan whispered. “I-I’m hot…”

Miss Aragon frowned. Joan looked up at her with shiny, wet blue eyes and a glazed expression.

  “It hurts,” She croaked.

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  “What did I do?”

  “What?”

Joan shifted uncomfortably. Guilt surged through her, along with another painful sensation in her lower stomach. She whimpered again.

  “What did I do?” She asked again. “D-did I sin? Is this my punishment?” Miss Aragon looked baffled, and Joan wasn’t sure how she should feel about that. 

  “No, no, Joan,” Miss Aragon said quickly. “You didn’t--you didn’t sin.” She made a face, like those words tasted funny on her tongue, but it disappeared quickly. “You’re a very good girl. All women go through this, like I said. It’s completely normal.”

  “But--but I’m bleeding!” Joan cried woefully. She could feel drops of blood squeeze slickly out of her vagina and she cringed. “You shouldn’t-- it’s not-- I-I’m gonna bleed to death!”

Miss Aragon is frowning again, and Joan easily recognized it as a frown of pity. That’s the expression most adults wear when they look at her. 

  “You aren’t, Joan,” Miss Aragon said patiently. “It’ll stop in a few days.”

Joan squirmed again, wanting it to stop now. She looked up at Miss Aragon helplessly.

  “What did you do?” She asked. “To get yours? How did you sin?”

Miss Aragon sighed and Joan instinctively shrunk away. Instead of being struck, however, her coach eased an arm around her shaking shoulders and pulled her in close against her side.

  “Oh, Joan…” She murmured, stroking her wet hair. “You poor, poor girl…”

Miss Aragon had then gone on to explain the process of the strange word called ‘menstruation’, telling her how she would bleed for four to seven days at a time every month for basically the rest of her life. It sounded awful. How could God curse females with such a horrible bodily function?

The sharp ache in her lower stomach returned like a tug on her small intestines. She put her hand between her legs, but drew no blood (this time). A new feeling rose in Joan’s sore chest, a yearning, an ache. She felt suddenly cold, as if the sun could no longer warm her. This was it, then, the change was here.

Would she still be Joan after it was all over? When she shed the last of her “uterus lining”, as Miss Aragon had said, would she still be herself? Or would she be someone new?

Would being someone new be all that bad?

Joan swiped some looser, fresh clothes from her dresser and then scurried her way into the bathroom. She didn’t want to turn on the lights, so she lit a few candles instead, letting their warm glow fill the small space.

With muscles that were weak with fatigue, she slowly began to undress herself. First her overalls, then her white and baby blue flannel, her cream colored bra, and finally her underwear. The puffy sanitary napkin--a “pad”--that Miss Aragon had put in for her was spotted with large dark red, almost black stains that looked like gross bodily jelly. It was wilting already, so she carefully removed it and replaced it with one of the many others she had been given, remembering how Miss Aragon had told her to always change them whenever she got the chance or she may get sick.

After throwing away the pad she wadded up with toilet paper, Joan stepped into the bathtub and cranked the faucet handle.

Showering was agony.

Although the hot water had offered her a brief respite from the deep, otherworldly chill that had settled into her body, there was no escaping the pain. Each beating droplet against her limbs felt like a fresh wasp sting stabbing into her muscles and the flesh on her stomach, taut and uncomfortably bloated, pulsed and throbbed with agony every time she moved.

Like before a few minutes ago, like at school, she reached between her legs, and it came back sticky and red.

The smell of the blood was pungent and unnatural. It was nothing like real blood at all. It was more like the rot from her deteriorating insides as her sin caused her to rapidly decay. It made her feel sick, so she stuck her hand under the spray of liquid fire shooting out from the shower head and didn’t pull it back until all the blood was gone.

The smell remained on her hand.

Joan scrubbed vigorously between her legs, which seemed to be permanently stained. Crimson would smear across her pale flesh each time her vagina bled again and she did her best to wipe the trails away with an itchy sponge. By the time she finally gave up, her inner thighs felt chafed and raw.

Joan took to just watching the water and beads of soap run down the slightly rusted drain. Slowly, she sat down, knees bent up to her chest, legs spread slightly. Red drools down the floor of the shower to join the suds down into the pipes.

This reminded her of a time when she was eleven and was violently ill in the shower. She remembered looking up, slumped heavily over the rim of the tub, still in all her clothes, and seeing Mama in the doorway. She had been shaking her head, but had a morbidly amused glint in her eyes. Then, chuckling darkly, she was saying, “You shouldn’t have gotten--”

  “--drunk,” Said Joan, her fists clenched determinedly at her sides and her heart hammering in her throat.

The figure in the armchair in front of her turned to look at the doorway and squinted up at her for a moment as though trying to figure out who she was. And then it sagged back into the chair with an air of disappointment. Like it had been expecting someone else, someone better.

Joan stared back through the thick mop of white-blonde hair that had started to hang in her eyes lately because she’d been too lazy to cut it.

She was eleven and standing in the doorway of the house she’d grown up in, feet squared in her tattered shoes (she hadn’t gone and gotten herself a new pair in awhile, though she was long since overdue) and jaw set grimly.

  “...You're what?” Said the figure slowly, her weathered, thick-knuckled hands clutching a periwinkle embroidery and a shiny sewing needle.

  “I’m drunk, Mama,” Joan said again, feeling a thrill that was equal parts excitement and terror run through her from head to toe as she said the scandalous words. She watched those dark eyes apprehensively, dimly aware through the buzz of alcohol that she was shivering.

Later, on nights when she had nothing better to think about (there would be a lot of nights like that), she would dramatize this event in her head. She’d think about what might have happened if she’d been yelled at, or sent to her closet, or even slapped across the face and sent sprawling. It wasn't that she did this to feel sorry for herself, or to pretend that it had been worse than it actually was.

The truth was that all of those outcomes were things she wished had happened more than what actually had.

From the worn-out old armchair, the figure stared at her a moment longer, before simply shaking its head in silent apathy and looking back down at the embroidery.

  “This is why God has left you,” Said Jane Seymour, dismissively.

And then Joan had trudged off, disappointed by the lack of reaction. Usually her Mama would throw an absolute fit over the littlest things she did, but the night she drank alcohol was barren of any dramatics.

An hour later, she would violently heave up all the whiskey she ingested from her system in the shower. It burned more than it did on the way down and made her cry helplessly for her Mama, who knelt by the bathtub and stroked her hair like she was a dog while she threw up all over herself. Mama had cradled her head against her chest when she was finished, mouth and chin still dripping with vomit, and told her what an evil little imp she was in a voice like sweet caramel.

Joan shook her head, scattering droplets across the shower walls and curtain. She looked down and saw a small sea of blood rippling around her feet. Her nose curled in disgust and she backed up further against the back of the tub.

Minutes passed. Joan’s mind was fuzzy and blank for most of the time she sat in the water and her own blood. Her vagina began to hurt at one point and throbbed steadily with her beating heart. 

When it was eventually time to get out, she found that the heat of the water had soaked the energy right out of her, and it took everything in her to get dressed again instead of just curling up naked in a corner of the shower and passing out.

The cuts splattering her figure, those that hadn't scabbed over yet, were gooey and red, the flesh around their edges white and puckered from the water. They burned faintly as she stepped back out of the shower’s steamy shelter and into the cold air of the rest of the house.

The light from the candle flames cast her gaunt features in harsher contrast when she peered into the mirror. Her hollow cheeks nearly became empty holes and her sunken eye sockets were black caves. Still, the shiny blue of her eyes was visible even in the cavernous puncture. The fire’s glow reflected off the stygian liquid steel of rolling droplets over her emaciated frame. 

The sight of the deathlike girl would send anyone but Mama screaming into the night.

------

  “Good news, Kitty!” 

Anne came out of nowhere, flinging her arms around Katherine and causing her to jump. They staggered, nearly falling right over, but managed to stay upright in the crowd of students leaving the school. Katherine laughed.

  “What can it be this time, Annie?” She asked, shifting her backpack onto one shoulder after Anne pulled away.

  “It turns out we are going to college together after all!” Anne declared, smiling widely. “I just got the text last period!”

Katherine felt a surge of happiness go through her, but still couldn’t help but tilt her head. 

  “Wait-- I thought the Royal College of Music turned you down?”

Just saying the school’s name sent flutters of joy and excitement and awe through her. She still couldn’t believe that SHE, Katherine Howard, got accepted into THE BEST music school in England. Maybe even the entire world!! She couldn’t wait until she got to explore the castle-like campus and fulfill her dream of being a real performer, and although she had hoped that her dear cousin and best friend would be a part of that, she didn’t actually think it would have happened.

But here Anne was, shrugging nonchalantly with a radiant look in her dark brown eyes.

  “Yeah, well,” She waved a dismissive hand, “Daddy pulled a few strings and now I’m in.” 

Katherine couldn’t help but chuckle knowingly when her Uncle Thomas was brought up. She could only pray for the poor soul at the Royal College’s administration board that must have met the other end of his needle-sharp words.

  “We get to be roomies together!” Anne said. “Isn’t that great or what?”

  “It’s AMAZING!” Katherine declared, hugging Anne. “I can’t wait!”

The sound of a car broke their embrace and the two of them, along with a few other students in the courtyard, turned to look at the shiny dark blue Ford Mustang honking at the curb. The driver’s side door popped open a second later and a gorgeous young woman, probably twenty or twenty-one, with lush olive skin and curly brown hair came sliding out. She lowered her electric blue Burberry sunglasses and hickory brown eyes swept over the crowd of high school kids in disdainful amusement.

  “CATHY!!” Anne cried gleefully. She launched herself at Catherine Parr and the two immediately melted into a heated kiss. Katherine sputtered a laugh.

  “Classic Anne,” Maria said, coming up beside Katherine with Maggie and Bessie. “Always can’t wait to jam her tongue down her lady’s throat.” She’s elbowed in the ribs by both Katherine and Bessie for that, making her snicker. “What? It’s true!”

  “Come on,” Maggie said, and they all crossed over to the couple. “Alright, children! That’s enough PDA!”

Anne parted from her girlfriend to stick her tongue out at Maggie. Cathy chuckled and turned her gaze to the others.

  “Hello, kids,” She said languidly. 

  “Hey, Cathy,” Katherine smiled at her. The other three greeted the other woman as well. “How are you?”

  “Bitchin’ good,” Cathy rumbled, her lips twitching upwards. The lipstick coating them was a dark red color; Katherine believed it was called “Nibble” if she remembered correctly.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Anne suddenly said. She perched on the hood of the Ford Mustang and spread her hands out in front of her like she was about to tell a grand fairytale. “Can you guys believe the stunt in the shower earlier?”

Like that, Katherine’s good mood dropped away and icy guilt slammed into her once again. It made her feel so stupid, as all her friends burst into giggles around her, enjoying the funny memory while she just felt sickened by them. Why couldn’t she be more like them?

  “What?” Cathy looked at all of them in confusion. “What happened?”

  “Oh, Joan Seymour happened,” Anne told her. “Sixteen fucking years old and that stupid retard just stood there having her very first period.”

Katherine winced at the use of the slur. Why did it suddenly hurt to hear? She hadn't cared when Maria said it earlier in the pool. Was she just now realizing that it was wrong to say?

  “I think she’s fifteen, actually,” She said.

  “Who cares?” Anne said. “Doesn’t change anything! I knew when I was 9!”

  “Wait--” Cathy said, and then she exclaimed, “Gross! In the shower?”

  “Oh yeah!” Anne nodded her head enthusiastically. “Blood was just dripping down her legs!”

  “All the blood ran into my stall!” Maggie joined in excitedly.

  “And she sat in it!” Bessie added.

  “All while squealing like a fucking pig!” Anne chortled. “WEE WEE WEE WEE!!!”

  “Anne, enough!!” Katherine shouted over all the laughter. “Stop it! It’s not funny!”

Anne looked at her and then said, “Hey, you guys! Stop! Stop! Kit is right. It’s not funny.”

All the giggling died away instantly. Katherine breathed out a sigh of relief--

  “It’s fucking hilarious!”

--that was quickly replaced with a sharp intake of breath.

Anne slung an arm around her shoulders. “Aww, sweetie!” She nuzzled her cheek with her nose. “There’s a runt in every litter! A nobody. And our nobody,” She chuckled darkly, “is Joan.”

------

The smell of freshly baked bread hit Joan’s nose when she walked down the stairs and her stomach growled so loud it caught Mama’s attention in the kitchen. Her face flashed dark red, her blush bright against the pale backdrop of her white-blonde hair, and Mama chuckled in amusement.

  “Someone’s hungry,” Mama said.

  “J-just a little…” Joan stammered shyly.

She really, really was, though. She skipped lunch because she had left school and hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which had just been two pieces of plain toast, but she felt like she was starving. Like it’s been a lot longer since she ate anything. She set her hands on her lower belly and wondered if hunger was another bitter side effect of menstruation.

  “Joan?” Mama noticed the way she was holding her stomach. “Is your tummy alright, darling?”

Joan felt an intense flash of fear 

(she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows)

lance through her and she inhaled sharply. She nodded, dropping her hands limply to her side.

  “I’m okay, Mama,” She said. “Just hungry.”

  “Dinner will be ready soon,” Mama told her. Joan could smell the casserole in the oven and her stomach growled again. “Why don’t you go wash your hands and set the table?”

Joan nodded and hurried to wash her hands off in the kitchen sink before retrieving the plates and utensils from various cabinets. She took them to the dining room, a dimly lit room filled with more crosses than anywhere in the entire house. A huge iron one hung above the table, where Jesus’ petrified face of agony could always leer down at her when she was trying to eat. The only other decoration was a wooden picture frame laying face-down on a small shelf. Joan glanced at it and remembered the last time it had been filled by...

...a photograph of Mama’s wedding.

It had been a bright and sunny day, with white clouds floating over the wedding ceremony. In the picture, the newlyweds were standing on the top of the stone stairs leading to the chapel. Above their heads was a tall arch decorated with beautiful white roses, handpicked by the maid of honor. The bride and groom held each other’s hands, the picture of matrimonial bliss. 

This was the first time Joan actually saw what Daddy Henry looked like. Mama didn’t talk about him very much, and when she did, it wasn’t ever in a good way.

But these two in the picture looked so happy.

Daddy Henry’s wedding tuxedo had to be one of the largest ever designed. He was herculean, with a behemoth body and golden blonde hair. Dazzling sapphire blue eyes stood out brightly in the photo, so much like Joan’s own. He had a massively wide smile on his bearded face, grasping his bride’s hands in his own huge ones. 

Mama was in a beautiful white gown gown that hugged her every curve, with sterling silver feathers sewn into the sleeves and into the frills of the wedding dress. Her lips were painted ruby red and were curled up into a blissful smile as she leaned into the wall of muscle that was her husband, her hands lost within Daddy Henry’s colossal grip.

...Were these really her parents?

Joan had found the photo hidden behind one of Jesus’s birth when she accidentally broke the frame while playing. She was ten at the time, and itching for mischief, so she hid the photo from Mama, despite all the questions she wanted to ask. 

It had been a complete accident that Mama found out she had it, when she saw it in her room after she forgot to put it away.

For a long time, Mama didn’t speak after she found the photo. She just gripped it tightly and stared at it with wide, bulging eyes.

  “Where did you find this?” 

Joan flinched at the edge in her voice. Trembling, she stuttered, “I-I broke a picture frame a little while ago. You didn’t notice, so I picked up the broken glass so that we wouldn’t get hurt. I found it behind the picture of baby Jesus.”

Mama took several deep breaths that did little to calm her. Joan swallowed thickly.

  “M-maybe it could help us look for him?” She said timidly.

Turning abruptly, Mama stormed out the bedroom and downstairs. Joan ram after her, crying, “Wait! Mama!”

Mama strode into the lounge and began roughly throwing firewood into the fireplace. Joan skidded to a stop behind her, her eyes wide.

  “Mama!” She shouted. “Stop! We have to find Daddy!”

But Mama didn’t stop. She just kept tossing in wood until the fireplace was full, then moved to dousing the logs with an alarming amount of lighter fluid. Joan lunged forward and grabbed her arm as she lit a match and flicked it in. The flames roar to life instantly, illuminating the cold look in Mama’s golden eyes.

  “No.” She hissed, and then threw the photo into the fire.

  “NO!!!” Joan screeched.

She threw herself at the fireplace, dropping to her knees and shoving her hands into the burning logs. Flames licked at her skin and she howled in pain, but didn’t pull back until she grabbed the smoldering remains of the photograph. It disintegrated in her fingers and she wailed in anguish right before Mama grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her backwards.

  “What are you doing?!” Mama cried. Her eyes are even wider now, and Joan saw that she was scared. The smell of burned flesh hung heavily in the air.

  “That was going to help us find Daddy!” Joan yelled, tears running down her cheeks. Her hands hurt so badly. Pink and scarlet criss crossed together over her charred skin. “We were gonna find him and he was gonna come back!!”

  “No he wasn’t, Johanna!”

  “WHY?!”

  “BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING KEEPING HIM AWAY!!”

In an instant, the scalding hot blood in Joan’s veins turned to ice-water. She started to comprehend the implication of Mama’s words, and the tears came out from her eyes faster and faster. She wilted like a daffodil, crossing her burnt hands in front of her chest and grabbing her arms, squeezing them tightly as she bowed her head and doubled over on her knees. The crown of her skull cracked against the hardwood, sprawling her hair like a waterfall of white-gold all over the floor. 

  “No… No… No...” She wept again and again.

  “He doesn’t want you, Joan,” Mama said ruefully. “He didn’t even want me.” She took a deep breath, sadness etched in the grooves of her words. “He doesn’t want either of us.”

Mama knelt and took Joan into her arms, rocking her slowly. Joan tried to grip onto her, but just let out a pained wail when she moved her hands.

  “Mama!” She cried. “Mama, it hurts! It hurts!”

  “Oh, my poor baby,” Mama said sadly. “Shh… It’s going to be okay, my darling angel. It’s going to be okay, Joan…”

  “...Joan? Joan?”

Joan jolted, backpedaling into her mother, who looked concerned. Mama gently cupped her cheeks.

  “My dear angel,” She murmured, “what’s wrong?”

(tell her tell her tell her)

Joan swallowed thickly. “S-something happened at school today. Something terrible...”

Mama frowned and brushed a loose strand of hair out of Joan’s face. “Terrible things are the Lord’s way of testing us, Joan.” She said wisely.

  “I know, Mama, but the other girls--”

  “You aren’t like the other girls.” Mama cut her off.

  “But I am, Mama! I am!” Joan said. “I never thought so, but--”

  “You aren’t, Joan. You aren’t. You’re special.” Mama’s lips twitched slightly. “Special.”

  “You aren’t listening to me, Mama…”

  “I’ve heard all I wanted to hear, now finish setting the table, please.” Mama said. She glided past Joan and went back into the kitchen to check on the casserole. Joan slowly laid out the plates, then looked over her shoulder.

(tell her tell her tell her)

  “Mama, in the showers today…”

Mama whipped around instantly, her eyes suddenly lit up like hot coals. Joan thought she might have seen a flicker of fear somewhere in there, too.

  “What have I told you about showering with the other girls?” Mama said.

  “I know, but--” Joan floundered.

  “What have I told you?” Mama shouted.

  “It’s a sin! It’s a sin!” Joan gave in.

  “And as such--”

  “But Mama--”

  “It is--”

  “I STARTED TO BLEED!!”

Silence.

Stillness.

The platter Mama had been holding slipped from her fingers and shattered against the wooden floor. White and blue pieces exploded out in every direction. A few chunks cut Mama’s slipper-clad feet and ankles, and blood slowly began to bud out like blooming roses in May, but Mama did not move. Or flinch. Or even blink. She just stared very intently at Joan like she was hoping she would burst into flames if she leered hard enough.

And then, her face did something strange. It twitched, like all her expressions were falling off one by one, so it looked like a mask for a moment. Then, the skin rippled and creased and wrinkled, and her soft features were eroded away by furious and sinister ones. A sick white light ignited behind her golden brown eyes, like twin lightning bugs of insanity inside the sockets. Joan backed up against the dining room table with a whimper.

  “Mama, I started to bleed in the showers and the other girls-- they laughed at me and called me names and threw things at me!” She said woefully. “I was so scared, Mama! I thought I was dying!”

Mama’s face twitched again, and this time her head jerked a little with it. The veins in her neck bulge out of the flesh and pulsed monstrously. Her eyes suddenly looked a lot less golden brown and a lot more brown-red.

  “Mama, why are you looking at me like that?” Joan asked softly, quaking.

  “The curse of blood,” Mama said quietly. There’s an awful, dry chuckle edging her words. Joan blinked like an oblivious pure white heifer about to be sacrificed to God.

  “Mama, you’re scaring me…”

Mama’s entire head twitched this time and then, a split second later, she’s striding across the kitchen with her right hand held high. Joan didn’t have any time to react before she was backhanded across the jaw by pointy, spike-like knuckles. She yelped out in pain and shock, tottering sideways and careening right into one of the dining table chairs. Her body unceremoniously crumpled into it, and she and the chair both crashed to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

  “You’re a woman now,” Mama said above her. Her eyes are wide and gleaming, but there’s no emotion in them. “Pray to heaven for your wicked soul.”

  “Wh-what did I do?” Joan stammered, rolling over onto her back. She could already feel her jaw welling up with a fresh bruise. “M-Miss Aragon said it’s something all girls go through. Even y--”

Mama hit Joan again, and blood splattered out in a bright red line across the floor. Joan whimpered sharply, tears of pain springing to her eyes. Her tongue instinctively flicked out against her newly busted lip and it stung in response to being licked.

  “And God made Eve from the rib of Adam,” Mama said like she was in a trance. “And Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world. And the raven was called Sin and the first Sin was the Sin of Intercourse. So the Lord visited Eve with a Curse and the Curse was the Curse of Blood.” She leaned down to Joan and her words were suddenly washed with potent venom, “Say it, woman.”

  “No, Mama--”

Joan was struck a third time. Smears of her blood are left on Mama’s knuckles.

  “Say it!” Mama bellowed.

  “No!” Joan cried. She turned sharply and scrambled away, but Mama pursued her and delivered a kick to her ribs that sent her sprawling on her back.

  “And Adam and Eve were driven out of the Garden and into the World and Eve found that her belly had grown big with child.” Mama droned on. She lifted her foot and pressed it down on Joan’s stomach, pinning her to the ground. Joan yowled in pain when a cramp seized her at that very moment, deepening her anguish even further. “And there was a second Curse, and this was the Curse of Childbearing, and Eve brought forth Cain in sweat and blood.”

  “Mama!” Joan sobbed. The tears were flowing free without resistance, now, and creating small pools on either side of her head. “Mama! Stop it, please! Listen to me!!”

But Mama did not listen. She just leaned down, applying more pressure to Joan’s poor belly, like she was hoping to make all the blood come out now. Joan threw her head back and screamed in pain.

  “And following Cain, Eve gave birth to Abel, having not yet repented of the Sin of Intercourse. And so the Lord visited Eve with a third Curse, and this was the Curse of Murder. Cain rose up and slew Abel with a rock. And still, Eve did not repent, nor all the daughters of Eve, and upon eve did the Crafty Serpent found a kingdom of whoredoms and pestilence.”

  “Mama, listen!!” Joan yelled. “Stop! It wasn’t my fault!”

  “And Eve was weak,” Mama said flatly. “Say it.”

  “N-o!” Joan squirmed underneath her mother. Her hands, rough and scarred permanently from the burns she got five years ago, flew up and grabbed Mama’s leg. Two of her fingernails jabbed into one of the cuts on Mama’s ankle she got from the glass and Mama jerked away with a hiss.

  “You vile demon!!” She screeched.

Joan fled as quickly as she could, but Mama went after her, just like last time. Just like all the other times. 

(if i had a nickle for every time she made me cry in here...)

Her wrists are seized and they both fall to their knees on the floor in the lounge. The impact rattled Joan’s frail body and she could feel more blood drip out onto the sanitary napkin in her underwear.

  “Mama, let me go!!” Joan cried frantically. She struggled, but her Mama was much stronger than she was and was able to restrain her. Mama’s body hunched over her, her belly pressed against her rigid spine, practically crushing her frail daughter. “Please! Please, Mama! I’m sorry!!”

  “Say it, woman,” Mama whispered harshly in her ear, her words biting like serpents.

Joan sniffled and, with words that were thick with blood from her busted lip, choked out shamefully, “And Eve was weak.”

The grip on her wrists loosened slightly. Mama’s hot breath tickled her ear when she breathed out a dark laugh. A sloppy, halfhearted kiss was pressed to her temple.

  “Good girl,” Mama whispered breathily. She leaned back and twisted Joan around so they would be facing each other, but did not release her child from her ironclad grip. 

  “Mama, why didn’t you tell me?” Joan asked. Her icy blue eyes are filled with tears and sorrow, so much sorrow. “I was so scared, Mama. I thought I was dying!”

Mama shook her head and looked up ruefully. She squeezed Joan’s hands together and exclaimed hugely, “O Lord! Help this sinning woman beside me here see the sin of her days and ways!”

  “Stop it, Mama--” Joan squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Show her that if she had remained sinless the Curse of Blood never would have come on her!” Mama brayed on.

  “Mama--” Joan whined. “Mama, please stop! I don’t understand! What did I do?” She squirmed harder. “Mama, let me go!!”

Mama shook Joan violently, then drew her in close, eyes flashing. 

  “Ask for forgiveness of your sin.”

  “No, Mama.” Joan said, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t sin, you sinned. You didn’t tell me and they laughed.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Darkness overtook Mama’s features like the black clouds of a thunderstorm. Her face twisted with disgust, and she suddenly looked like she hated her child with every inch of her being. She dug her fingernails deep into Joan’s brittle wrists.

  “I did not.” She hissed lowly. “I did not--sin.” She carved off chunks of Joan’s flesh with her nails. “Go to your closet and pray.”

Joan stiffened, her eyes bulging hugely in her skull. She whimpered and shook her head, shrinking down into herself.

  “No, Mama,” She whispered fearfully. She could see her prayer closet from the lounge, the door fitted underneath the staircase. It was cramped and dark and hot in there, just how Mama liked it for her. “D-don’t wanna go…” She couldn’t look away from it.

  “Pray.” Mama said. “Ask for forgiveness.”

  “Please, Mama,” Joan begged, looking up at her mother desperately. “P-please don’t make me go. I-I don’t wanna go. I’m sorry!”

But Mama’s uncaring look of hatred did not change, and inky black dread poured out through Joan’s organs like a thick, dark oil spill. Her breathing began to hitch and pick up, but Mama didn’t seem to care about her worsening panic attack.

  “Please, Mama,” Joan wheedled hoarsely. “I-- I’ll bring the Stones again!”

This time, it was Mama’s turn to look scared. But then it morphed into intense enmity and she began to beat Joan senselessly towards the closet.

  “You monster!” She howled. “You spawn of the devil! Why must I be so cursed?!”

  “The Stones!” Joan yelled as she was kicked and hit and slapped. She rolled to the side, but Mama beat her back down to the floor, slowly getting her closer and closer to the wretched, evil closet. “I’ll bring the Stones, Mama! I’ll bring the Fire!” 

And then a powerful kick drove into her belly and her words pitched into a shriek of agony. 

  “MAMA!!” Joan screamed. “MAMA-- MAMA, STOP!! IT HURTS!! Y-YOU-- IT HURTS!!!”

Mama grappled onto Joan’s arms and began dragging her across the floor to the closet. Even with the sharp, unbearable pain in her stomach, Joan fought her, kicking and struggling and screaming bloody murder, but it was futile. Mama shoved Joan into the prayer closet and slammed the door shut, locking it tightly.

   “NO!!” Joan shrieked. She threw herself at the door, causing it to rattle heavily on its hinges. “Mama, let me go!!”

  “Pray, little girl!” Mama ordered. Madness curled from her lips like poisonous vipers. “Pray!”

  “Please, Mama!!” 

But Mama did not let her go. Her footsteps retreated somewhere into the house and Joan sunk to the floor, weeping. Panic started sticking to her lungs like black tar, making it harder and harder to breathe. 

Mama was so angry… What if she never let her out? 

Dread sped up her thoughts, racing through her veins, filling her with desperation. 

No one would even hear her screams, her last dying words, her final prayers…

She began to wheeze, the thick, musty air brushing against her lips. The oppressive stench of her own fear and blood and piss from other times in the closet burned her nose.

Would the neighbors notice? Would they even care? 

Pain lighted in her belly again as her chest contracted with her heavy breaths. 

Would her teachers, so quick to look away from her black eyes and limping figure, even call and ask where she was?

Joan began to scratch on the door, the frame, the hinges, scrambling to escape, her instincts pitching her action into a fury of movement. 

What would they say when her body was finally discovered, a rotting corpse hidden in the darkness of a closet made for holy purposes? Perhaps she would be the talk of the town, even more than usual. The poor Seymour kid, whose Mama went mad after her husband left and God could no longer satisfy her. Who killed her only child, slowly starving her tiny daughter to death one evening while she sewed a new blouse for a customer at the laundromat and listened to her religious music.

Joan’s fingernails scratched harder, grazing the wooden confines of her holy coffin. She could feel the warmth of her blood as the nails began to tear and break, smell the copper of her panic, leaving thin lines of crimson as she clawed frantically.

What if she didn’t starve to death? What if she suffocated? Could that happen? No, she’d read about that before. There was enough air filtering in here, probably. She’d die of dehydration first. Already she could feel her throat constrict, dry and callous, an arid lining of flesh. Spots of light pricked her vision. Tears ran down the side of her bruised face, mingling with the sweat now coating her skin. She felt clammy and cold, yet suddenly too hot, as if in a fever.

  “Mama, let me out!” She begged coarsely, the words scratching at her throat.

She could take the hitting or yelling or cursing. Anything but this. 

  “Mama…” 

Joan slumped to her side, shuddering. She looked up and gazed around at the horrors that littered the closet. There were so many paintings of Jesus’s death, all in great, graphic detail. When she was little, they used to give her awful nightmares about evil men nailing her to a cross or Jesus’s bloodied body chasing her through a ruined dreamscape, welding a wicked-looking crucifix made of barbed wires and yelling at her to join him on his cadaverous crucible.

They still gave her nightmares, she hated to admit.

The dead eyes of Christ bore down on Joan’s pathetic, shaking frame. Jesus’s face was contorted into the same expression of disgust and pain as Mama’s had been, like even he knew that she was the worst thing to ever grace God’s green earth. She curled into a tight ball on the floor, not wanting to meet his scornful gaze anymore, and began to pray through her haze of tears.

------

Moonlight cast silver streams on Anna’s smooth, glowing skin, making her look like a goddess of the night above Katherine. Her soft touch sent pangs of pleasure crackling through Katherine’s body like lightning bolts of lust, soothing her mind of all its worries with her warmth. Everything felt good and okay and wonderful again when Anna was with her, holding her, talking to her, loving her. She thought that nothing could possibly bring her down when her girlfriend was there by her side.

And yet, she still couldn’t get the image of Joan Seymour’s naked body covered in blood on the floor out of her head.

Katherine sighed heavily and Anna pulled back, blinking.

  “Am I really that bad?” She said, then looked at her fingernails, inspecting them closely. “I thought I got them down to the perfect length this time…”

Katherine managed to laugh. “No, it’s not you, you big silly,” She nudged her playfully. “It’s--something else…”

Anna tilted her head. “What is it?” Worry flashed across her expression and Katherine couldn’t help but feel a flutter of love flap in her chest. She loved when her girlfriend got like this, all concerned over her, even over the littlest things. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” Katherine said. She pushed herself up into a sitting position with a sigh. “It’s just-- I did something...not good today.”

  “Oh no,” Anna gasped. “Not good?”

Katherine shoved her. “I’m serious!”

Anna laughed slightly. “I know! I know!” She said. “Come on, tell me about it.”

They got dressed and stepped out of Anna’s red Jeep so Katherine could get some fresh air that would hopefully help her tell the shameful story. It was a warm spring night and they were parked on the side of a small grove that had a trail that led to a hiking trail and some camping grounds. Katherine ducked under a tree that was wrapped in blooming vines of pink-white dog roses, pale ghost petals shivering in the breeze. Anna came up beside her and they both sat on a low-hanging branch that was practically grown for the purpose of sitting and telling your girlfriend about the awful bullying you participated in today.

  “Did you...hear about the Joan Seymour incident today?” Katherine eventually choked out hesitantly.

Anna actually thought for a moment, as if a fifteen year old girl getting her first period and thinking she was dying hadn’t been the talk of the entire school.

  “Vaguely, yeah,” She finally said. “I don’t get into that kind of drama, though. I tend to stay away from it, you know?”

Katherine did know, and that sent fear ricocheting through her body when she remembered it. Of course Anna didn’t like discourse- she’s told her several times before! How could she be so stupid?

Anna peered at her closely, and she knew it was too late to turn back now.

  “What does Joan Seymour and her period have to do with you?” Anna asked her.

Katherine swallowed thickly. Fear pounded heavily at her brain, fear of Anna breaking up with her when she told her and leaving her all alone--but didn’t she deserve that? What she did was horrible. She didn’t deserve a girlfriend after harassing a poor little girl, ESPECIALLY when she herself was eighteen and technically an adult.

  “I--” Her words caught in her throat for a moment, but Anna’s patient, loving gaze made them all come tumbling out. “I was in there. With her. In the locker room.” She lowered her head in shame. “I--yelled at her with everyone…”

Anna just looked at her for a long time, moonlight glinting in her caramel brown eyes and making them look like they were glowing. Then, she sucked in an impressed breath and said, “You’re right. Not good.”

Katherine felt a cold slicing of fear slash through her, but then Anna’s grave expression shifted into a thoughtful smile. She ran a hand down an ivy-coiled section of the tree and mused, “I kicked a kid in the ribs one time.”

Katherine blinked at her. 

  “I did!” Anna said, then shook her head and chuckled at the memory. “Reed Mulligan. Big white kid who’ll probably grow up to be a robber or something. Anyway, he beat the shit out of me once in Year 7. And then, in Year 8, he picked on the wrong kid and got his ass handed to him. Everyone ran when he dropped to the ground, but first I gave him a good kick in the ribs. Felt terrible about it afterward.” She peered at Katherine closely. “Are you gonna apologize to her?”

Katherine snorted dryly. “Did you apologize to Reed Mulligan?”

  “Hell no!” Anna said. “But there’s a big difference, Kat.”

  “There is?”

  “This isn’t Secondary School anymore.” Anna said. A flurry of snowy pink petals swirled down from the tree and over their shoulders. “What did Joan Seymour ever do to you?”

------

The prayer closet lock clicked and the door creaked open after seven long hours. Joan stopped crying for her Mama after the first hour and fell silent for the rest, not even asking to eat or go to the bathroom. Probably because she was asleep, curled up into a little ball on the floor, pillowing her head with her arms. Mama knelt down to her, setting one hand on her shoulder and raking the other through her white-blonde hair. Joan’s eyes shot open instantly, and they seemed to glow in brilliant shades of blue in the candlelight.

  “Did you finish your prayers, little girl?” Mama asked.

Joan nodded.

  “That’s my good girl,” Mama cooed. She kissed Joan’s cheek, saying nothing about the dark indigo bruise bloomed on her jaw. “It’s time for bed.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Joan whispered. Slowly, she uncoiled from her position on the floor, shaking out her numb limbs as she did so. Mama watched her with a sharp eye as she rose to her feet.

  “Joan?”

  “Yes, Mama?”

Mama took a deep breath and stood up, practically towering over her little daughter.

  “I know I sometimes do things that I can’t explain,” She said, “but know that my feelings for you never change. Even--if you have sinned.”

Joan winced, but she shook her head and managed to smile wryly up at her mother. 

  “Mama, you don’t have to say that,” She said. “You love me. You don’t need to ask for forgiveness from me. I know you do what you have to.”

  “Yes,” Mama said slowly, nodding. “We have no one except each other, Joan.”

Joan shivered. Her heart ached fiercely in her chest, and she so badly wanted to believe that that wasn’t true, that there was someone out there who wanted her, but she knew that was just wishful thinking. Fifteen years, and the only person who didn’t throw her away was her Mama.

  “I’m the only one who cares about you.” Mama said. “No one will ever love you except me.” She cupped Joan’s cheeks and looked at her with maddening adoration and love flickering in her eyes. “You will always be a monster to everyone else.”

And Joan nodded, knowing this would always be true, and whispered, “Yes, Mama.”

[unto-myself-together]

From Dusk to Dawn, ch 2 (ESO fanfic)

Content warnings for this specific chapter: references to sex. Brief descriptions of violence. Occasional light cursing (i.e. damn, ass. It’s very infrequent though)

Author notes (a lot of notes, sorry!!):

Previous chapters: Chapter 1

Author notes (skip to the squiggly lines--> ~~~~~~ if you want to jump straight into the story)

You can also read the story on my Archive of Our Own Account here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343163/chapters/64680022#workskin

Lots of notes here (and I apologize for that. But this chapter had a lot of stuff going on. There are a couple of explanations for anyone who is interested/confused by something that went on in this chapter.):

Hey everyone. I really really hope you all have been doing much better during these troubled times than I have. I have an anxiety disorder (as well as a couple of other things and chronic medical conditions) and let’s just say that this does not exactly mix well with a worldwide pandemic. Let me just say that if it wasn’t for ESO and my ESO guildies, I don’t know where I’d be.

I love your comments. All of them. I have been coming back just to read them again and again, and when I get the chance I want to respond to each and every one of them. You all are so beautiful; thank you… And thank you to the person who left that extremely lovely message in my ask box on Tumblr! I’m not sure how to let you know, how to respond in a way that you will see (are you still around?), but if you can see this: I love you and I loved, loved, loved your message!

I missed writing. A lot. But I have so tired lately that I was having difficulties writing this next chapter. I finally got it out and I wanted to share it with all of you. This one is a bit more lighthearted than the last (we’re going to go on a rollercoaster here, with lighthearted chapters intermixed with not-so lighthearted chapters). I also changed the tags a bit.

Ravenwatch and sexuality: It’s actually canon that House Ravenwatch has “naked parties”. I kid you not. Gwendis has dialogue during the quest where you crown the new King/Queen of Rivenspire; if you meet her upstairs in Shornhelm’s castle, she’ll say something like:“If this were a Ravenwatch party, none of these people would be wearing clothes”. Please note that this is a “missable conversation”;if you do not catch Gwendis before completing the crowning quest, you will never get to see her say it again.

Even if ZOS later decides to erase these lines, they can’t erase them from history because I have recordings of it :D In all honesty? I actually appreciated this little side note;I think it adds more complexity to their characters. Given their rules about consent regarding blood giving, their parties are probably fully consensual too.And there really isn’t anything wrong about adults having consensual parties. Besides, vampires have always been a little associated with sex and sexuality, so I don’t think it’s really that surprising.

Kalin’s comment is a reference to their parties. But he purposely worded it in a way that he knew Elyssa wouldn’t understand: with a reference to a Dunmer tavern-brothel. No, Ophelia doesn’t actually participate in their parties (having grown up in this place, I think it would be awkward for all people involved); instead she usually goes to visit relatives and comes back to help with the clean-up. That’s not gonna stop Kalin from teasing her anyways. Speaking of Kalin, I really think he didn’t need to be half-naked and lounging on their dining room table during their mealtime. Just saying: I feel like we were interrupting a little more than just “mealtime”.

Now, whether or not Verandis and his "children" have relations with each other when they keep referring to each other by familial names ("father", "sister") is a different story; the idea makes me uncomfortable. But I'm fairly certain Kalin (who is not "a family member") and mortal guests can get some action with the vampires.

In regards to the mortal servants: I’m sorry, ZOS. I don’t care how much magic is pumping through Tamriel’s veins; you will never convince me that two servants (Kalin and Estelle) can feed a household of five vampires once a night every night (even more than five vampires if you save the two people during the Rivenspire quests). Even with magical “produce more blood” potions, I felt the need to add at least two more mortals to the household…I hope readers don’t mind…

It did get me thinking: how does Verandis find these people? I doubt he just puts up an ad onto the Shornhelm bulletin board. Can you imagine? “Help wanted. Must have lots of blood and no aversion to pointy objects in your neck” (I’m kidding). Melina Cassel’s comments in her hireling mails implies that Verandis doesn’t force the servants to give blood as a part of their contract (she makes mention that Estelle giving blood goes “beyond the call of duty”). But there probably is a preference for those who aren’t averse to parting with a bit of their life force every now and then. In Kalin’s case, I’m like 99% convinced his half naked Dunmer self does it because he thinks it’s hot.

I actually had a mock up done of the Castle Ravenwatch basement/lower floor on the PTS using Daggerfall Overlook. I’m not sure if anyone would be interested enough in it for me to post a pic of it though. (yes, I know.  I saw the Ravenwatch Prologue and I don’t care)

I really hope ZOS comes up with a house crest for House Ravenwatch soon; otherwise I will have to make my own…

I know it may not seem like it from this chapter, but I actually have fallen madly in love with Fennorian. But it doesn’t technically appear during the Rivenspire questline, and I actually want Elyssa’s first time meeting him to be during her visit to Western Skyrim and doing something like the Bound in Blood quest.

The goat: It’s more of an inside joke I have with myself. When I was going through the Rivenspire questline for the first time, I noticed that there’s a goat that appears behind Ravenwatch Castle. At first, I thought it coincided the appearance and disappearance of Kalin. So I made a joke to myself that Kalin IS the goat. (Later I found out the goat’s appearance has nothing to do with whether or not Kalin the NPC is around. Still, I thought it would be funny to poke at that idea in the fic).

I have a problem with the Stormhaven storyline and this idea that you have to have this specific potion made with the Dream Shard just to avoid dreams. For the purposes of this story, I’m going to re-write that part so that the Dream Shard created potion is only to prevent Vaermina’s magic from interfering with your dreams specifically, and that there are likely plenty of other alchemy potions (sleep potions) that could prevent dreams (but not necessarily prevent Vaermina or her followers from affecting your sleep or giving you nightmares anyways). I just wanted to make that distinction.

While I wouldn’t doubt Vaermina might torment the Vestige in their sleep as a payback, I doubt the Daedric Prince would care enough to do it constantly (just the feeling that I got when I finished the Stormhaven questline was that Vaermina wasn’t too perturbed by being thwarted. Her “imprisoning” the Vestige in her realm was half-hearted as well; you could easily leave. Like she had much bigger fish to fry than you).

In regards to House Ravenwatch and sexuality again: I wanted to state more bluntly that No, I do not think the vampiric family members have sex with each other because they keep referring to each other as "brother" and "sister" (and to Verandis as "father") in canon. Yes, I know they're probably not ACTUALLY related to each other, but still. Instead, I think they have rampant naked parties with fully willing fully adult mortal participants. Let's be honest: there's got to be at least as many mortals in Tamriel who think vampires are hot as there are people in our world that think vampires are hot...Also. You know. Kalin. Half naked. On the table. Just saying.

PLEASE NOTE: Elyssa Arboretum is NOT the actual name of my character. I changed her last name for this story because...well....I'm a little shy. If you ever meet someone in game that has a name similar but not exact, it MIGHT be me. I usually like being on my own, as social situations can cause me great stress (especially if they're strangers). I am so sorry, and I greatly appreciate your understanding...

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She was staring at a wall.

….

…….

To be fair, it was a very nice wall.

…

….

….Although it did take her more than a moment’s time to realize she was staring at it sideways.

…

…And even longer to realize that she was staring at it sideways because she was lying down.

Groaning out of partial frustration, Elyssa heaved herself into a sitting position.

A soft bed and warm blankets were there to greet her, and they were inviting enough that she was sorely tempted to just go back to sleep.

But the longer she sat there, the faster the memories of the previous days nagged at her:

High Rock.

Blood fiends.

A plot to conquer the entirety of Rivenspire by a grieving and spiteful Breton noble.

The usual.

….

……She had to know what time it was.

Covers flung wide, she jumped out of bed.  Or tripped, rather; a creak in her back found her eagerness a bit disagreeable.   And it took a bit rubbing out her muscles to get her poor back to stand up straight.

But she hurried to make her way downstairs, whether her sore back liked it or not, when she heard the echoes of a conversation.

Gwendis and Melina were both there in the main hall.  Gwendis was literally lounging on top of her coffin, her arm lazily hanging over her eyes as if she meant to sleep like that.

Melina was at the table, toying with an array of colorful runestones.

“Good morning, Elyssa,” Melina cheerfully greeted her as she approached.

“Morning, Melina.  Morning Gwendis.”

Gwendis only gave a grunt in response.

Elyssa took a spot next to Melina, watching her as she carefully examined one rune at a time before placing them into different, colorful piles.

“Did you sleep well?”  Melina asked, frowning and squinting closer to her own hand when she noticed the rune she held had its surface defaced.

“Better than well.  I think this was the best sleep I’ve had since…it’s got to have been weeks...I feel fantastic…”

Melina chuckled a little.  “Well if you get such wonderful sleep in our home, perhaps you should stay with us then!  At least, for a while.  We get so few guests; I find it a little exciting to have someone new with us.  And, provided you’re still interested, I’d love the opportunity to show you a few basic enchanting techniques.  You know…when all this…ah, bloodfiend business is over.”

Elyssa perked up with a grin.  “I think I’d really like that.  And maybe you could take a look at that book I got, the one I told you about?  It really doesn’t make a lick of sense to me, and it would be great if someone could translate it into something more ‘beginner level’.”

“Oh of course, dear. I’ll certainly give it a try when we’re all a little less pre-occupied…”

“Wake me up when the world’s ending,” Gwendis moaned, still lounging on her perch.

“Is she all right?” Elyssa asked, leaning towards Melina.

“Oh she’s fine.  Just cranky after scouting out half of Rivenspire for Adusa.  She’ll be better after she gets some rest….”

Melina’s eyes narrowed at Gwendis.  “She’d feel even better if she actually bothered to go inside her coffin instead of sleeping on the hard stone lid...”

“That requires getting up…” Gwendis complained.

Melina gave a sigh, then went back to her rune sorting.

But Elyssa continued to stare at Gwendis, lost in thought.

“Do vampires dream?”  She asked, absentmindedly.

“Of course we do,” Melina replied. “My favorite dreams involve handsome men, coming to sweep me off my feet and take me far away to their extravagant and elaborate castle where we watch the stars and raise our nineteen adopted children together…”

“Which, for Melina, is nineteen too many,” Gwendis chimed in with a chuckle.

“Oh hush you.  If you’re too tired to lift a coffin lid than you’re too tired to make fun of my fantasies.”

“Do you really want nineteen children?”  Elyssa asked.

“Well…” She started with a bit of a grimace, “Maybe not quite THAT many….But I do want at least a child or two.  I adore children, they can be so sweet sometimes…”

She stared with melancholy as she traced the face of a beautiful rune.

“Never making assumptions….never judging you…”  She continued, solemnly.

“Breaking all the furniture in the house,” Gwendis remarked with a more lighthearted air.

“I suppose they can also be quite destructive too,” Melina gave out a little laugh.  “But what about you, Elyssa?  Have you ever thought about children?”

Elyssa made a face. “I think my horse is enough of a handful…”

She straightened up in a panic when she remembered her horse.

“Wait, my horse!  I put her around back in that shed place like Ophelia told me to, but I forgot to ask: was that really okay?  What if the bloodfiends got to her?  Should I go check on her?”

Melina patted her hand reassuringly just as she stood.

“Don’t fret there, dear.  The bloodfiends tend to lean away from anything that doesn’t smell like food, and our scent is all over these grounds.  It wards the little monsters away from our beautiful castle.”

Elyssa sat back down out of relief.

“Besides,” Melina added, “Our beloved little goat would have been eaten a long time ago if it were otherwise.”

“That goat!” Elyssa groaned. “I mean, speaking of kids and destruction: your goat wouldn’t stop headbutting me as I was trying to take off my horse’s tack, and I was very nearly tempted to kick him straight into your lake.  How do you get him to stop?”

“Elyssa!”  Melina chastised with a cluck. “That’s no way to treat Kalin.”

“Yes but—“ Elyssa cut off as those words wormed their way into her head.  “Wha….”

She turned to Melina, face contorted in a mixture of utter confusion with a touch of horror.  “What?  But I thought Kalin was the name of your…”

“Our resident Weregoat, yes.”

“Your resident… what?”

“Were.  Goat.” Melina said with precise articulation.

Elyssa stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head.  “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Me?” Melina asked, offended and with her hand firmly at her heart.  “Why I’d never!”

That did nothing to convince Elyssa.

“Gwendis…” Elyssa sighed, turning to the lounging vampire.  “Is there such thing as Weregoats?“

Gwendis lazily lifted her arm to give her a side eye.  “I mean, I think you should really focus on apologizing to Kalin for thinking about throwing him into the lake…Ya got some priorities you need to sort here…”

Elyssa flushed in embarrassment.  She’d never heard of a weregoat before.  But then, she’d never heard of friendly vampires until just yesterday.  And someone did tell her once that werebears were an actual thing…

“All…All right…” Elyssa said, slowly.  Not quite fully prepared to believe.  “Then when do weregoats transform?”

“Why, none other than the evening of every second Morndas of the month.  Which, I believe, was yesterday.  Is that not correct, Gwendis?”

“Yeee-ep.”  Gwendis replied, lazily letting the word hang in the air.

“Okay,” Elyssa said, a little less confident in herself.  “But why a goat, of all things?”

“Please,” Melina said, “Do I look like Hircine? For all we know, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt punishes those who scorn him with this…awful curse.  Such poor people might be used as fodder in the Prince’s hunting games.  All the more reason why he needs to stay, safe and sound, with us.”

Elyssa gave Melina a critical eye.  The vampire had been a bit overdramatic in the way she’d said “awful curse”, but otherwise it seemed she was serious.

Gwendis, likewise, seemed fairly serious too, even as she kept lounging on her coffin lid.  

Elyssa sighed, defeated.

“I guess I really should apologize to Kalin for getting irritated with him…”

“If you still don’t believe us, you can check out his tail,” Gwendis chipped in, “Ask if he’ll drop his pants and show you his hindquarters.”

Elyssa flushed red, and was about to reply that she would not, under any circumstances, ask to see the Dunmer’s posterior.

But a strangled noise brought her attention back to Melina, and her eyes narrowed in as the lady vampire struggled to keep a straight face.

“You…” Elyssa accused.  “You both are pulling my leg after all!”

Melina released the laughter she had apparently been holding in, and Gwendis was happy to chuckle alongside her.

“Come on, Mel,” Gwendis accused, “We had something here.”

The other’s laughter died down to a grin.

“Oh but Gwendis, I think you went a little too far with that one.  If she honestly asked Kalin to bare himself…you know how he gets…He’d probably acquiesce.”

“But that was the best part about it.” Gwendis grinned back.

“Well I don’t think it’s very nice,” Elyssa grumbled.

“Come on.” Gwendis said “We’re just teasing ya a bit.  A little hazing just to check if you’re good with our House and all.”

“Besides,” Melina added.  “It was positively adorable that you were willing to believe in weregoats.”

“Yeah.  I’m just so gullible aren’t I?”  Elyssa replied bitterly, remembering what the Count had told her last night about being a little too trusting of people.

“Come now, dear.” Melina said, patting her hand.  “We’re sorry.  Truly.  And how about I put my money where my mouth is and give you extra runestones for your next shipment as a little apology gift?”

“I guess…”  She replied, trying to refrain from any signs that free stuff had indeed perked up her mood just slightly.  

She found out she didn’t need to put much effort into that; the Count himself emerged from his study to interrupt.

“Good morning, Elyssa.  May I have a word with you?”  The statement was short, sweet, and a bit curt. Although that could have just been his High Elven accent.

“Do something naughty while we were gone, did ya?” Gwendis grinned at her just as Elyssa got up to join him.

“Wha—No!  Of course not!”

Gwendis’ chuckle seemed to almost follow her as she joined Verandis by the bookshelves.  This time, he forewent a book in favor of leaning against the shelves, his arms crossed while he regarded her carefully.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock.”  She stretched out her back a little with a wince. “I even woke up feeling a little like a rock.”

“Probably because you spent the better part of the night sleeping on my floor.  If I hadn’t decided to venture upstairs to dabble with a little more alchemy, you’d have woken up there too.  Why didn’t you drink the potion while you were in bed?”

“I did!” Elyssa cheerfully replied, holding a finger up, “But then I thought it would be a good idea to fetch a little more wine to wash it down.”

His eyebrows rose as he gave her a pointed look

“I mean,” Elyssa continued, her hands dropping to her side again, “At the time it seemed like a good idea.  Obviously it’s not such a good idea after the fact.”

The Count stared at her critically for a good while before he closed his eyes with a sigh.  When he re-opened them, he was back to contemplative again.

“You’re lucky you suffered no serious injuries; you could have easily gained yourself a concussion.  It seems the Divines do more than simply gift you powerful light magic: it appears they’re also the only things that are keeping you alive.”

“Hey!”

“Which brings me to the reason I called you here.  I took the liberty of making a full batch of sleeping draught for you.  The bottles are on a tray upstairs labeled with their purpose and your name.”

“Really?”  Elyssa’s face lit up; the potential to actually get decent sleep was literally being handed to her.  “Thank you so much! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.  This stuff is fantastic; I didn’t dream at all after drinking it.”

“Which is something I need to warn you of.  As you’ve discovered for yourself, the draught places you in a very deep sleep.  Too deep to dream…and most certainly too deep to be easily roused.  If someone were to grab you or hurt you, you will likely not awaken.  Make sure to never take a dose unless you are absolutely certain of your safety.”

She was much less enthusiastic about this caveat; inn rooms were expensive, and camping was often inevitable for a lot of places.

“So…I probably shouldn’t drink any if it’s just me and my sleeping roll out in the open...”

“I would severely recommend against that.  Instead, if you absolutely cannot sleep and cannot find a safe haven, take a quarter dosage.  It will not rid you of your dreams, but it will help keep you from a restless night without sacrificing your ability to respond to potential threats.”

She gave him a wry smile.  “Aaaaand let me guess; I’ll have to come back to you every time I run out, won’t I?  Should I start looking for a house in Rivenspire?”

He waved the questions away.  “No need.  I’ve written down the recipe for you.   Even if you do not feel comfortable brewing it yourself, you need only take the instructions to any community’s resident alchemist.  It’s straightforward enough that any one of them should be able to provide it for you.”

She nodded and mimicked his stance to recline against the bookshelves, albeit from the opposite end.   Silence hung in the air, and he was still regarding her carefully.

“…That’s not all you called me here for.  Is it?”  Elyssa finally spoke up.

“No, it’s not.”  Verandis sighed.  She could tell from his very tone he was contemplating his words carefully. “Elyssa…have you considered spending time in Wayrest for a while?  There’s a flower festival that happens every year around this time, I believe.  I can only vouch for what I’ve seen from afar, but it’s does seem a rather popular event…”

She stared at him incredulously.  “We’re in the middle of a situation where bloodfiends and vampires are trying to take over the entire province…”

“Indeed.  And we have more than enough people here to handle it.”

She winced back as if he had struck her.  ‘We don’t need you’ was the unspoken implication.  

“Oh?  Am I a burden to you now?” She spat back bitterly.

“Child—“

“So what that I’m young?  That I have nightmares, and that you found out about them. Now I’m suddenly too pathetic to be of any use to you, is that right?”

“Listen to me—“

“No, you listen to me!  What was all that stuff you told me last night?  How it was okay to have weaknesses?  I’m grateful you gave me potions to help with my sleep, but I’m not worthless just because I need them!  And you!”

She pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You have no right to order me out of Rivenspire like this!  You aren’t my parent.  You aren’t my Emperor.  You’re not even the King of Rivenspire.”

She could tell, from the way his face perceptively changed, that the last statement hit a mark.  But she was too angry to care.

“No.  I’m going to stay right here. I’m going to help defeat Baron Montclair.  I’m gonna fight a whole bunch of bloodfiends to reach him…” She stared him down, fists clenched at her side, “And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.”

He stared back at her, calmly watching for an indication that she was finished.

“Elyssa…”  When he finally spoke, it was soft, slow, and soothing. “I do not believe I ever said you were worthless or pathetic.”

“And yet you’re ordering me to go off prancing at a flower festival.”

“I’m not ordering you to do anything, child.  I’m merely making a suggestion.  A suggestion based on what I’ve seen and what you’ve told me…You need a moment to relax and recover.  One cannot keep shouldering so many burdens without cracking underneath their pressures.”

“But I’m also needed here.  Back at Shornhelm, you said I had powerful light magic.  Better than most.”  She reminded him.   “And that I could be a great help in all this, since we’re fighting people whose very skin cracks under the light…”

“And, to an extent, I stand by those words.  Light magic is notoriously tricky to learn compared to the other elements, and yet it seems to come to you as easily as breathing does.  This is unheard of, particularly for someone at your age.  There are those who would even go so far as to call you a prodigy, myself included.”

The unexpected praise took a little of the edge off her rage.

“But you’re still inexperienced, and it’s painfully obvious you have not had any formal training in combat; your footwork is sloppy and you leave far too many openings for your opponent to take advantage of.  This might not be particularly risky when dealing with mindl0ess bloodfiends, creatures which have very little ability to strategize.  But the full-fledged vampires in Montclair’s army won’t hesitate to use that against you.  Furthermore, why aren’t you using a staff?”

She straightened up with pride.  “Swords are cool.”

He paused as if this was not the answer he was expecting.

“A staff would make a tremendous improvement on your magicka flow.”  He continued on with the same tone of voice.  He had, apparently, elected to ignore her statement. “You might even see an additional threefold improvement in the manifestation of your abilities.”

“But it would leave me wide open.  Greatswords help me guard against blows…”

“And so can staves…”

He walked over to retrieve his own firestaff that had been waiting in the corner for him.  Holding it out for her to look at, he gestured to its components.

“A typical battlestaff is made with combat in mind, and part of that involves the possibility that you will need to block a blow if your opponent finds a way to come within reach.  You can see here how my own weapon has its wood reinforced with a layer of metal.  Furthermore, are the multiple runes embedded into its spine…”

His finger traced over the weapon.  As if in response to its owner’s command, several symbols glowed across the length of it, brightly shining for a brief moment before settling back to normal.

“These, too, are designed with its protection in mind.  And with the mind of maintaining consistent magicka flow.  A staff that can no longer provide a steady resonation with its owner’s power is not only useless, but dangerous.  Such a weapon risks a catastrophic explosion if the user was not careful; thus, the important of the runes.  And as for its bladed tip…”

He gestured to the very top of the staff, in which the blade has been sharpened to fine edge.

“It is not unusual for many staff artisans to include a bladed tip in their work.  It does nothing to impair the staff’s traditional function and offers the advantage to utilize it as a make-shift spear, should the need require it.”

He set the staff aside back in its designated corner.

“Staves may not be as….”  He gave her an indulgent smile “…flashy as some other weapons, but they are nonetheless perfectly viable, and adaptable to changing situations on the battlefield.”

Elyssa grumbled, unimpressed.  “First you order me out of the region, now you’re ordering me to change my weapon—“

“Just another suggestion, Elyssa.  A suggestion,” The Count interrupted with wry smile.  He went to return to his books once again.

“As you say, Father.”  She mockingly shot back.  She waited for a moment to see if he’d react to that, if only just a little bit. But her frustration grew a tad when it was clear he was utterly unfazed by the title, continuing on in his books without so much as a raised eyebrow.

She grumbled again, and turned to leave the library.

“And please do not forget to eat before you leave, my daughter.” He called after her.

She froze in the doorway, and took a moment to glance back at him; her face full of surprise.

His reading was as focused as it always was, but he did pause to look up when he noticed her watching.

“Something wrong?”  He asked, and the very end of his mouth seemed to twist ever so slightly in a smile that almost looked….devious.

“N-no…” She replied shakily, the surprise lining her face beginning to tinge just slightly with mortification.

She thought the damned vampire elf would be too serious to give much of a reaction, let alone throw her comment back in her face.

“Then by all means: do try to make me proud out there.” He turned the page and returned to his books, still with that damnable little smile.

“I---“ Elyssa closed her mouth almost as soon as she’d opened it, before she said anything she might later come to regret, and decided it was far better to just turn around and walk away.

She could hear Gwendis’ muffled, gentle laughter beside her as she passed the coffins, and it only made her more determined to try and keep the red from her face from showing; it was likely most of the vampiric members of the household had overheard.

Melina, too, seemed to struggle with her own smile as Elyssa passed her.

“Oh,” Melina said. “I believe Ophelia made some honey bread this morning, if that pleases you, dear sister.”

“Shut up.”  Elyssa muttered back, and made haste for the guest room before either of them could comment further.

She ignored the tray of alchemy bottles that had been set aside for her on the table, deciding she could figure out the logistics of safely storing them in her pack later.  Once safely within the walls of her temporary bedroom, she made a beeline for her gear.

She was quickly getting used to putting it on; the intricacies that went into the chainmail underside and the straps that accompanied the plate outer layer did not seem to trouble her as much as it did weeks ago.

Her feet brought her to stand in front of the mirror, admiring her work.   She looked almost like a real soldier.

Honorary member of the Lion Guard, Elyssa Arboretum.  

The memory of the guard announcing this while offering the suit of tailored armor played in her head.  It was to be expected: in spite of all the things she had (somehow) managed to accomplish, she wasn’t actually a soldier.  She had no training in their regiment…nor was she even technically a citizen of High Rock.  

‘You’re footwork is sloppy and you leave too many openings’

‘It seems the Divines do more than simply gift you powerful light magic: it appears they’re also the only things that are keeping you alive’

These new words began to rotate in her head, churning into doubts.

Most of her opponents, thus far, had either been werewolves overcome by their animalistic desires, nature corrupting spirits, mindless zombies, or clumsy bandits and disorganized cultist members…None of them had combat styles that could be comparable to word “finesse”.  So her usual method of brute forcing her way with powerful spears of light magic before swinging her greatsword around in a haphazard manner had always worked out.  Tactics, strategy, and footwork were never things she ever thought about on a regular basis.

Even with Angof the Gravesinger...he almost seemed like the more she fought with him, the more he just…gave up. As if his motivation to defeat her was shriveling away like the very vines he failed to grow.  Most of his necromantic abilities didn’t stand a chance against the element of light; she barely even needed to concentrate to sweep the floor clear of his zombies.  They faded to dust almost as soon as she touched them with even the dimmest glow of her power.  And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that she had plenty of help at her side at the time…

….

...What if she’d just been lucky so far in her opponents?

That all of her “deeds” were nothing more than the culmination of her brute forcing her own “prodigy-like” magic and having the “Gods’ luck” on her side?

…..

….Was she actually making a difference?

She struck a pose in the mirror, hoping to look impressive decked out in her armor…but her rounded cheeks and short stature did nothing to wipe away the traditional, youthful appearance of a Breton.

Why couldn’t she have inherited at least a little of her Imperial father’s more chiseled features?

She stuck her tongue out at herself, and was greeted with an even more childish sight as a result.  Fully frustrated, she grabbed her pack and stuck a few of her things in it.

She frowned at the alchemy bottles; it was times like these that she wished she had a bigger protective bottle case in her pack.  She was grateful that he made her so much, but there was just a few too many to fit.

And she was hungry.

…She huffed, and decided she’d have to figure out the problem of the bottles later.

As she made her way downstairs, she caught sight of Gwendis and Melina chatting at the dining table; Gwendis finally appeared to have made it off her coffin.  Elyssa was almost tempted to throw a teasing comment at her for that.

Further downstairs was the basement level.

She’d been told it was always kept locked, mostly so that the household (both vampire and servant) could have a place of privacy away from any visiting guests.  The main kitchen was down there, however, and so she found herself knocking at the basement door.

“Why good morning to you, Elyssa!”  The cheerful face of an older, gray haired Imperial woman greeted her.

“Good morning, Ophelia.  Melina told me you have some honey bread all made up?”

“I do.  I do indeed; my lady must have smelled it from the hall.  Come in, sweetie, and I’ll cut you a few slices.”

The basement of Ravenwatch castle was, perhaps, even more homely than its main hall.  Reminiscent of the guest suite, there were no gargoyle statues or eclectic furnishings (save for the two coffins in the center of the room, one of which had to be Melina’s).  A roaring fireplace lit up the place brighter than the other rooms, perhaps for the benefit of the servants as they had their own separate room nearby.

Workstations filled with alchemy ingredients and enchanting components lined the walls.  A mysterious door to an even deeper cellar was in the far corner (she was told it was strictly forbidden to anyone not of the House; and that only made her slightly more curious about it).  Finally, there was a full kitchen to the side; much nicer than the kitchenette of the upstairs guest suite.

Ophelia wasn’t the only servant awake; the others were out and about as well.

The Breton, Estelle, was by the fire, working on some sort of sewing.  She was the only one Elyssa hadn’t formally met; they told her she was of a skittish disposition, particularly around strangers.  From what was mentioned, the Count had found and rescued her from bandits who had badly abused her.  Until she got used to a new person, it was advised for that individual to leave her alone unless absolutely necessary.

Anise, a Bosmer, was at the nearby dining table, a table that was a much smaller twin to the grander one of the main hall.  She….definitely looked like she was still asleep, her small head propped up by her arms at the table.  Narcolepsy was something Ophelia had mentioned; apparently Anise had trouble finding someone to hire her in a ‘traditional’ job because of her condition.  But the household wasn’t perturbed by the idea of narcolepsy, and had hired her practically on the spot the moment she revealed she was perfectly comfortable with the idea of serving vampires.

Ophelia herself was busy cutting an impressively large portion of an equally impressively large loaf of sweet smelling bread.  Elyssa recalled that when she had previously asked what the Imperial thought about living here, the older woman had merely scoffed.  For Ophelia, it was just tradition; her family had served House Ravenwatch for a handful of generations.  She had literally grown up in the castle.  So, naturally, she was quite fine with it all.  

Kalin, one of the ones Elyssa had spoken to the most (but ironically knew the least about), was lounging about at the wall near the kitchen, eyeing her carefully.  The only information she had on the Dunmer was that he was the oldest and longest serving of all the mortals who stayed there.

“So our guest yet lives…”  He said, that slow sardonic drawl of his hanging in the air. “Do tell; how does it feel knowing you survived a night in a vampire’s stronghold?”

“Got better sleep here than in most inn rooms.” She responded, grinning. “You all seem to get along really well with each other.”

He laughed.  “Indeed….we’re quite….close with each other…”

“Kalin,” Ophelia warned.

“Some of us ….closer…than others.”

“Kalin.”

“You might even say it’s a regular Ebony Flask around here--”

Ophelia banged her knife down flat with a loud clunk, staring him down with a none-too pleased grimace.

“What’s an Ebony Flask?” Elyssa asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Now you see?  She’s only going to start asking more questions…” Ophelia said.

“What…Is it something bad?”

“Not at all…” Kalin continued, an exceptionally wolfish grin lining his face. “Ophelia is only upset because sometimes even she—“

“That’s it!”  Ophelia pointed her knife at him from afar. “You. Out of my kitchen!”

“My work here is done…” Kalin stated in monotone, impish grin still on his lips as he strolled out the basement doors.

He held it open for Gwendis, who had found her way downstairs.

“Gwendis!”  Elyssa approached her “Kalin said it’s like a regular Ebony Flask around here; what does that mean?”

Whatever emotion Gwendis’ face had before vanished as she stared off into the distance with pursed lips.  She took a deep breath through her nose…

….Then turned and walked right back through the basement doors again.

“Wha-Gwendis?!”

“Never you mind that, sweetie.”  Ophelia interjected with an almost strangled voice.  “Why don’t you come and have some breakfast?  I made you some eggs and bacon too; I think you could use the protein, going out to fight as you do.  Might even put a little meat on those bones.”

Melina was next to come through the doors, clutching her satchel of runes and yawning all the while. And Elyssa immediately abandoned her breakfast plate to jump on the opportunity.

“Melina!  Kalin talked about an ‘Ebony Flask’.  What does he mean by that?”

Melina paused mid yawn, a curious expression forming on her face.

“Oh Elyssa…” She sighed.  “I’m afraid I’m much too tired to have this conversation.  We can have this talk after I’ve taken my rest…”

“My lady, I must protest!” Ophelia exclaimed.

Melina gained a rather mischievous smile at Ophelia’s outburst. “Very well.  We can have this talk after I’ve taken my rest AND after Ophelia has gone to bed.”

“My lady, please.”

Elyssa grinned as Melina gave her a little wink.  Seeing that, Ophelia’s protestations started to die down into more of a sputter.

“Herding cats around here…” Elyssa could hear Ophelia mutter under her breath as the older woman re-doubled her cleaning efforts. “Some days, I swear…”

But Elyssa was far more interested in what Melina was doing: heading towards one of the stone coffins in the main area of the room.  

Melina caught sight of her following close behind.

“Curious, are we?” She asked with a slightly amused smile.

“I just want to see what’s in it.” Elyssa beamed back at her.

“What might you think is in it?” Melina cocked her head slightly.

“I…”  Elyssa tried to think of all the vampire stories she knew.  Which wasn’t very helpful. She knew they supposedly slept in coffins, but she never really heard any stories about what they slept with. “…Jewels?”

The lady vampire laughed. “I’m not a dragon!”

The coffin lid scraped across its base as she moved it, revealing a cushioned lining, a small horde of pillows and a patterned blanket.  Though the outside was drab stone, the inside looked…rather homey.  For a coffin.

“Not quite what you were hoping for?” Melina asked, as it seemed she noticed her dismay.  

“I don’t know.”  Elyssa frowned.  “Why not just sleep in a bed then?”

The vampire bit at her lower lip in contemplation.

“Well…I can’t speak for the others…But in my case…”  She shifted uncomfortably.  “I--the first days of my new life were spent constantly under threat from the sun, even when I tried to sleep….especially when I tried to sleep.  I developed a bit of a phobia for it.  And after a while, I just started to feel…more at ease in places that were dark and enclosed.”

She fondly traced the edges of the lid.  “Sleeping in a box of some sort is the easiest way to accomplish that.  But they don’t usually make human shaped cargo boxes...And asking for one would likely raise too many questions…But coffins…”

The vampire waved towards her open resting place.

“...Coffins are requested all the time.  Even coffins ordered to your exact specifications; no one ever bats an eye over measurements…It’s a convenience, really.”

“So…you could sleep in a bed if you wanted to?”

“The bed itself certainly wouldn’t kill us.  But….our reactions aren’t always fast when we’re groggy and it’s the middle of the day, so if someone were to open the drapes on any of us while we lay exposed and slumbering…”

“But all of the windows here are glazed over; I could open all the drapes in the castle and the sun still wouldn’t touch you…And I mean…there can’t be that many people who would do something that horrible to you in the first place…”

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Elyssa.”  Melina smiled kindly.  “It isn’t true, and I think you know that, but it’s very sweet of you to say nonetheless.  There are plenty of people out there who wouldn’t hesitate…so…Just…think of the coffin in the same way you’d think of a stuffed toy that a child would cling to; it brings me comfort and assurance to know the sun can’t touch me so long as I’m inside.”

“I’m guessing you’re going to sleep now?”   Elyssa watched as Melina kicked off her shoes and settled down among the bright interior of her coffin.

“Mmmm…Indeed.  I just simply can’t keep my eyes open any longer…”  She sighed happily as she nuzzled one of her pillows.  “Won’t you be a dear and close my lid for me?”

“Wait…”  Elyssa gestured to the coffin opposite of hers.  “Before I do, I wanted to ask: there’s five coffins total, but I thought there was only four of you…”

“Oh…that one would belong to my dear, sweet brother…”  Melina lazily said, already with half lidded eyes. “You won’t likely meet him; he’s gone and locked himself in the cellar.  Out of abundance of caution, mostly.  He’s been having difficulties these days, and…oh, well, he’s such a sweetheart; he’d do anything to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone…”

“I see….” Elyssa said, suddenly solemn as she stared out towards the cellar hatch.  “I hope he feels better.”

“Indeed, as do I.  I so hate to think of him stuck down there, but it was his choice and my Lord approved…”

She let out another yawn.  “Ah…oh, excuse me.  I’m so sorry, Elyssa.  But I must really bid you a good day; I cannot possibly stay awake a moment longer.  Please promise you’ll stay safe.  I’ve already become a bit fond of you, and I would hate it terribly if you were injured….”

“I’ll promise I’ll try not to die.  Have a good night…erm…I mean day.  Have a good day, Melina.”

Melina gave her one last, sweet smile as Elyssa pushed close the lid.

…It was a lot heavier than anticipated.

She had to shove her shoulder against it just to get it shut.  The clunk of the stone finding the indentation on its base was louder than she’d thought it would be and caused her to jump.

Giving one last look towards the cellar hatch, as if expecting another vampire to appear any moment, Elyssa went back to the table.  Eggs, bacon, and honey bread were shoveled down as fast as she could manage.

~~~

She walked out of the basement a little too full; Ophelia had insisted on giving her a second helping of eggs and bacon, and had even tried for a third.  Given the sort of conversations that had accompanied breakfast, Elyssa had a nagging feeling that the older woman had been desperately trying to distract her from Ebony Flasks.  And, of course, that did nothing but make her more curious.  

Chances were, Ophelia would manage to talk Melina out of explaining it later.

So instead of heading towards the front door with her pack, she made a quick beeline for Gwendis, who had gone back to lounging atop her coffin.

“Psst….Gwendis?  Gwendis, what’s an Ebony Flask?”  She gave the vampire a few pokes in the arm that was covering her eyes.  The skin was oddly cold compared to a mortal’s.

…And the vampire didn’t budge.

“I know you know.  You had that look on your face when I asked about it before, so don’t think you can pretend otherwise.”

And the vampire still didn’t budge.

“Aww come on.  You can’t be asleep already.  And even if you were, there’s a tasty mortal inches from your face nudging you with her fingers.  If that doesn’t wake up a vampire, I don’t know what would.  So what’s an Ebony Flask?  Is it a type of skooma?  Do you all get together to use skooma?  I won’t judge; I promise.”

She could see Gwendis’ lips twitching against her pale face, but otherwise she continued to remain still.

Elyssa huffed.  “Fine.  Be that way.  I give up.  Have a good nigh—day.  Day!  Ugh.  Whatever.”

She passed by Verandis’ study on her way out.  He was still in there, working away at his books, as usual.  Elyssa was partly tempted to go in and ask him about Ebony Flasks and what that had to do with House Ravenwatch.

But she was still too irritated at him to even make the attempt, and that pushed all other thoughts away; so much so that she simply headed outside without so much as a ‘goodbye’ to him.

The bright sun greeted her as soon as she pushed open the heavy oak doors. She stopped to stretch out as she basked in the warmth.

“Hey don’t forget…” Gwendis’ voice came echoing through the halls behind her, proving that she hadn’t been asleep after all, “…Watch out for the weregoats out there.”

Elyssa’s irritation was matched only by the intensity of how hard she slammed their front door shut.

“I hate you all.” She muttered under her breath.  Not that she completely meant it.  

But her irritation only grew further as she noticed a bloodfiend at the edge of town, happily gorging itself on a dead citizen.  

…

……It was like breathing; such an apt description that Verandis had given her earlier that it became hard for her to think of it otherwise.

Warmth filled the tips of her fingers, a growing sensation that shifted through her palm like a liquid.

Coalescing.  Expanding.  An extension of her arm, of her will.  She often found she only needed to hold the image of a spear in her mind for it to form.  And with two steps taken, her momentum helped to send the whole thing forward, hurling through the air.

What was only mere moments resulted in a motionless bloodfiend, a bright spear of solid-like light skewered into its chest.

Unfortunately, it seemed she attracted some attention; another figure lurking in the shadows manifested itself right next to the dead bloodfiend.  She readied herself another spear….

…Only to then dissipate the light in her hands when she realized the second figure had cat ears.

And she winced when a rather irate Adusa-daro came towards her.

“H-Hi…Adusa….”  She nervously greeted.

“Adusa would appreciate…” The Khajiit began with a glower.  “…If the young one would please stop throwing such powerful holy magic so close to this one’s fur…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!  I just didn’t see you there when you’re dressed in all black like that!”

“Yes yes; this is exactly the sort of thing Adusa is worried about…”  Adusa grumbled, but she didn’t actually seem too upset at her.

Then again, it was difficult to tell; the Khajiit’s black and flowing cloak was surely thick enough to ensure no sunlight ever peaked through, and most definitely dark enough to obscure any body language.  It looked to be made of the same fine material as the one she’d seen Verandis wear the other day, and she was sure that, like Verandis’, it held a dark grey outline of their house crest on the back as well.

…Although Verandis’ cloak didn’t exactly have cat ear protrusions on the hood; that would have been a definite improvement. (She made a mental note to herself to tell him to get some cat ears on his cloak.  Since he was so eager to give her ‘suggestions’ before, he surely wouldn’t mind receiving ‘suggestions’ in return.).

Elyssa frowned as she attempted to figure out where among the bloodfiends the vampire had been lurking.  She only found more bloodfiends.

Which only made her frown more because…well….bloodfiends.

“How can you stand all this going on right outside your doorstep?  With these poor people like….like this…?”

She vigorously gestured towards a few of the creatures shambling close by.

“Patience, young one.  Tell this one; what is the most important thing we must focus on?”

“Killing Montclair?”

“Yes, good.  And what else?”

Elyssa strained herself to think: what else was there besides killing Montclair and dispatching bloodfiends?

“….Er…Killing Montclair…a second time…?”

Adusa groaned. “The living, Elyssa.  Living people are important, yes?  We must kill Montclair and make sure any living survivors are safe.  These are the two most important of all things that we must do.”

She could hear the khajiit grunt in disgust as she waved towards the bloodfiends.

“These….creatures.  They can wait until later…The dead will always be here later…The living?  Not so much.”

“Sorry; I guess I just took it for granted that we’d help the survivors.  I mean…why wouldn’t we?  But these bloodfiends here…they do still bother you…right?”  Elyssa asked in a quiet voice.

Adusa was in the process of taking down fabric around the face area, which suggested that the cloak, like typical Breton hoods, had a built in face mask.  

“We may not have always spoken much to the people here…” Adusa said. Pain on her face as cat-like eyes scanned over the town.  “But the ones of Crestshade…they were good people.  They do not deserve such a fate.  It is….very, very difficult to watch.  These townsfolk deserve to be put to rest, and not wander like filthy beasts.”

“Is there a chance that Montclair would use these ones for his army?”

The khajiit shook her head.

“Look at them, young one.  They are baking in the sun, and they do not even realize it hurts…Montclair would not win this war on the backs of freshly burnt carcasses falling to pieces.  No, the bloodfiends sent here were clearly only meant to coax the people out of their homes and scattered on the winds.  To turn to the curse any of those who could not make it out…less people he would have to cow to his would-be rule…”

Adusa’s fangs protruded as she softly snarled, her ears hunched back.  “…This one also thinks he may have been trying to mock us a little as well…Send bloodfiends to attack the town while we all were away as an insult to all of our efforts…”

Elyssa remained silent.

She didn’t know how to respond except to look out again amongst the bloodfiends stumbling across the ground…

Their bodies did seem like they were coming apart at the seams; many of them had sun wounds that burrowed straight through their skin, creating gaping holes that only hindered their movements more.

“We must rest and work and focus on the two most important things, Elyssa.  Never forget the priorities. And speaking of which: Adusa is glad to have caught you before you left.  She has need of you.  You will help, yes?”

“What needs to be done?”

“Adusa has been scouting to see how far Montclair’s army has taken its curse, how far it has spread.  They have taken over a small town called Moira’s Hope in the south.  This one could smell the blood of the living there...but there are also many, many bloodfiends as well.  She will need help to cut a path through…and perhaps help with the survivors as well; they are more likely to trust a fellow mortal than Adusa, and there may be need to get them out quickly…”

“Right! I’m with you; I just need to go and get Justice ready…”

“Justice?”  Adusa followed Elyssa around back to their stables.

“My horse.”

“…Is that not…How does one say?  ‘A little on the nose’?”

“Oh I didn’t name her that.  That was the name she came with.  If you can believe it, I got her for free from this cranky old Imperial man.”   Elyssa’s face screwed up as she recalled the memory. “All eight of his horses were white Imperial thoroughbreds, and ALL of them were named Justice….”

Adusa looked at her with incredulity.  “…Did he not have trouble telling them apart?”

“He was so angry; I was afraid to ask too many questions.” She flashed Adusa a nervous smile.

“Very generous, a whole horse….”

“I don’t think he could afford to take care of them all after he’d been displaced from the war.  And I think he was also looking to help other citizens of Cyrodiil, because he only offered her to me when he found out I was a fellow refugee…”

Her comment cut short and her muscles tensed up when she came face to face…with him.

He was hanging out, casually, by the awning of the stables, right next to Justice.

He lifted his head to watch her as she approached.

Her arch-nemesis.

The bane of her existence.

                                     The damned goat.

Her blue eyes narrowed in on him; her stance braced for impact.

He stared back, creepy little sideways pupils watching her as if to size her up.

She took a few sidesteps to the right, maintaining eye contact.

He mirrored her maneuver, his soft bleating filled with obvious faux innocence.

She stopped.

He stopped.

The irritating fiend was playing hardball.

Slowly, she inched her way towards her horse, eyes dead center on her foe in anticipation of the slightest mo—

“What...”  Adusa’s voice intervened, “…In the name of the blessed moons are you doing?”

“Your goat is pure ev—“

Only a moment; Elyssa had only looked away from her dreaded foe for a moment, and the beast, sensing weakness, lowered its horned head to charge.  Just barely was she able to escape the horror of it all by scrambling up the stable post with a yelp.

Adusa stood where she was, her arms crossed, and surveyed the scene with eyes aglow with amusement.

“Hibiscus must like you.  She does not usually react in such a manner with anyone else…”

“You call this liking?” Elyssa grimaced as she clung to the stable post and tried to shoo the goat away by waving one foot while trying to balance on the other.  “Look at the eyes, Adusa!  Those are the eyes of a bloodthirsty creature who has killed before…and will kill again!”  

“Speaking as one who knows bloodthirsty creatures, Adusa can assure that Hibby is both safe and does not consume blood,” Adusa began to make her way back around the castle.  “This one will see you at Moira’s Hope, then.”

“Wha-you’re leaving me??!”  Hibiscus the goat was already making the attempt to scale up the stable walls just to get to her enemy.

“Adusa has every confidence you can handle little Hibby.  If not, Hibby’s treat bag is at the right of yourself. Feed her no more than three whole apples; a fat Hibby would make Anise very concerned.”

And with a wave over her shoulder, the hooded Adusa was gone.

Elyssa turned to her adversary.

“So….You’re a girl goat, huh?  That’s quite a coincidence.  I happen to be a girl human.  We have so much in common; please stop trying to kill me.”

The horizontal goat pupils didn’t seem to falter, and she idly wondered if goats were carnivorous.

Her fingers strained as she tried to reach the treat bag, but she only ended up in an awkward, stretched out position with her torso still at the post and the weight of her upper half held up by her reaching fingers.  She looked at her horse, who was calmly grazing at a pile of hay.

“A little help?” She asked, not actually expecting her horse to respond.

Sure enough, the horse stared back at her, unfazed and ignorant of her situation, before dipping its head to take in another mouthful of hay.

“First Adusa, now you; the double betrayal hurts just a little bit.”  She said, purposefully overdramatic.  If only to make herself feel better about the whole situation.

The goat seemed to be getting impatient, as it begun to ram its horned head against the sides of the stable.  As if to try and knock her down.

“I have to wonder if you really are trying to kill me…” Elyssa winced as she made a solid lunge for an apple peeking out of the leather bag.   Another effortful motion and an apple was tossed as far away as she could manage.

It was a gift from the Gods that Hibby’s priorities involved eating first and everything else second; Elyssa was finally free to drop down.  Not necessarily in an elegant way, given her strained position; she ended up with a face full of hay, with her horse making the move to try and lick it off her face.

Straightened up with hay brushed off, she moved to get her horse’s tack on as quick as she possibly could before the demonic goat got back.  Part of which required giving a jealous Justice an apple of her own to get her to cooperate.

Her weapons and pack at the ready, she hoisted herself up atop her steed; just in time to watch a distraught Hibby cower from Justice’s mightier hooves.  Up high on a horse, she felt a bit more like a knight, regardless of whatever her image in the mirror had shown her before.

Ready to take on the world itself.

A click of the tongue and a flick of the reins, and she was well on her way.

Racing past the bloodfiends as the sun shone in the sky.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Final Author note: Bold of you to assume Verandis wouldn’t adopt your rebellious mortal ass, Elyssa.

[reshblogger]

10 Simple Ways To Live A Healthy and Happy Life

In Today’s world of numerous innovations and latest technologies, we are living a life without life. Most of us are extremely busy round the clock rushing towards our dreams, career goals, improving finances etc. All these might give you success and happiness in the long run. But what if we start to live a healthy and happy life everyday ?

It is totally possible but we need to put in our little efforts in implementing it. You need not make big resolutions to improve your life. There are many tiny and simple changes you can make at any time. To lead a healthy and happy life does not require any money or time – just a strong desire, motivation and consistency.

Now, Let’s get into various aspects to live a healthy and happy life everyday.

Healthy food plays a major role

Food has a higher level of impact in our everyday life. A healthy balanced diet can keep your mind and body healthy and active throughout the day. Make sure the food you take consists of all the nutrients required to your body. It is vital that you do not skip your meals in a day, especially breakfast.

Plan to include vitamin-packed superfoods in your diet. Try including salmon, avocados, broccoli, mushrooms, beans, walnuts, beans and whole grains in your diet. In fact, this can also improve your immunity, brain function and helps you to maintain a healthy body weight.

Avoid eating junk foods, foods which are highly spicy, oily and sugary on a regular basis. Doing all this will automatically make your way towards a healthy and happy life.

Positive attitude is the key

Start your day with good positivity. Feel good about yourself and be thankful to every minute aspect of your life. Doing this brings happiness into your life and helps you to achieve your goals. Positive attitude increases your faith in your abilities and brings hope for a brighter future.

This also lowers your levels of stress, depression and increases your productivity. Optimism can also improve your immunity and give you a better psychological and physical well-being.

“Me” time is very essential

It is very crucial for every individual to take out time for themselves irrespective of their busy schedules. In this time, you need to focus only on yourself completely. Do what makes you feel happy.

Whether it could be something related to improving your physical health, mental health, following a few beauty tips for a good looking appearance or anything for that matter. The goal is to make yourself happy by doing what makes you happy.

Focus on your favorite hobbies to increase your creativity. Plan mini vacations to recharge your mind and body. You can also hike at a nearby park with friends and family to get some fresh air, exercise and social interaction.

Making memories

Connect with your loved ones once a week. You can either meet them personally or else you can just make a phone call or a video call in case you don’t have much time. These interactions with your friends or family members will make your bond much stronger than before.

In your tough times, these relationships will make you stay optimistic and remember that you are not alone in this journey. You can also plan for outings, vacations, lunch or dinner parties and many more.

Try to make as many memories as possible with your loved ones, as we all know that life is short and unpredictable.

Physical activities will keep you fit

Fitness activities will boost your confidence levels. Because when you do some fitness activities every day to keep yourself fit, you will look great with a properly toned and structured body which will ultimately lead to improving your self confidence.

It is also a proven fact that physical activities increase the endorphins( happy hormones) in your brain. Therefore this further helps you to  lead a happy life and reduces the risk of belly fat and chronic diseases such as heart strokes, cancers, diabetes etc.

Choose your favorite workout which gives you most of the joy and fun. Have consistency when it comes to reaching your fitness goals.

Explore spirituality

The term spirituality can be understood in simple terms. It is nothing but knowing the real meaning of life and reflecting on who you are as a person. People generally visit temples, churches or any other spiritual places to find peace and calmness.

This will not only improve your mental health but also gives you inner peace. Practice meditation everyday as this can induce feelings of calm and clear-headedness. Mindfulness meditation in particular has been proven helpful for people with anxiety, depression, stress, cancer and diabetes etc.

Feel gratitude for all the blessings of life in your prayers. This will attract more and more abundance in your life.

Learn to give

Not everyone is blessed with everything. The things which we are bored with and feel useless can be treated as valuable gifts to someone else. Start helping people in all the possible ways. It doesn’t matter even if your help is small or big but always find ways to give to others.

Stop to talk to someone and lend your ear, offer to assist a friend in need or volunteer at a local charity. Make a habit of helping people at least once a month. This will give you a sort of self-satisfaction and inner peace and happiness leading to a happy life.

You will also begin to view your own problems with a new perspective, and you will feel better about yourself by realizing that you can make a difference in the lives of others.

Spend time with nature

Nature is an incredible wonder that inspires all of us. Spending time with nature can be one of the most relaxing things. Enjoy each and every movement of nature. Feel the fresh breeze, pay attention to the sounds, smells and sights.

There are many lessons we can learn from nature if you keenly observe it. We will instinctively know that being in nature enhances our health, immunity and happiness. Exposure to nature has many benefits including

Improved attention

Lower stress

Better mood

Reduced risk of psychiatric disorders and even upticks in empathy and cooperation.

Go outside for at least 15 minutes at least to get some sun on your face. The sun helps your body produce vitamin D which is very essential to our body.

Cleanse your home and mind

Little cleaning everyday can make you feel better and improve your mood. Declutter your bedroom for a more comfortable and relaxing place to sleep. Clean your closet and your dresser drawers to make the mornings easier. There are plenty of places in your home and office that you can tidy up.

Set at least 15-30 minutes of time everyday in order to cleanse and organize your things in a proper manner. Cleansing your mind is also important to improve your mental health. Focus only on the things which matter the most rather than focusing on the issues which mess up your mind and make you feel burdened.

Practice meditation, yoga, surya namaskar etc. to feel better and to get rid of unnecessary thoughts running in your mind. Relax for at least one hour before bed time to clear your mind and fill it up with positivity.

This habit will make a path towards your happy life and you will be amazed at how great you begin to feel as your life becomes less cluttered.

Be brave to deal with your problems

We all have our own problems in our life. Nobody in this world exists without problems. But to what extent are we allowing these to affect us totally depends on the individuals. Respond to the situation rather than reacting to it.

Sit down peacefully in a place and think about your issue and analyze what could be the best solution for it in all the possible ways. Otherwise you can also take a pen and paper to note down the key points of your problem and then analyze the ways of solving it.

Remember that you are not alone in this journey as everyone of us has to deal with the same circumstances at some point or the other. Be strong, think positive and never hesitate to share them with the people you trust and take their advice if required.

Conclusion

If you want to change your life and make it a healthy and happy life then make these necessary changes to see the results. It might not be possible to implement all the things at a time, take it one after another as per your feasibility.

Choose your favorite items in this list and start it off. Do not forget to note down the progress after following these changes to identify the difference between the life you had and life you are having at present.

[childdrum82]

6 Months To See The Very Best Results With This Therapy.

Advantages And Disadvantages Of Collagen Remediation Treatments.

Content

Brand Names: Botox ® Or Bocouture.

The Spider Web Facelift.

What Brand Names Of Fillers Does Dr Farrell Use?

What Areas Can. Take Advantage Of This Treatment?

There are a number of different types and uniformities of filler as well as every one is designed to resolve a particular problem in the face. I wondered to learn the answer to this inquiry, however Dr Julia states the solution is not as simple as I believe it could be.

How often should you do Collagen Masks?

By applying a collagen mask infused with hydrolyzed collagen two to three times per week besides drinking high-potency collagen, you can give your skin the most powerful collagen boost it needs.

If Clare believes that this is NOT the best alternative after that she will certainly advise concerning the several various other treatments offered at the clinic which may be a whole lot preferable to accomplish the results you are yearning for. All 'botox' wrinkle smoothing treatments are carried out by Dr Clare Quinn, a General Dental Council registered aesthetic dentist that has over 12 years' experience in visual medication. She currently techniques on a full time basis at her Botox Solihull center in Dorridge, Solihull. Back Healthcare belongs to the renowned London Discomfort Facility Team. Our Consultants hurting Medication are specialists in the treatment of discomfort. Discomfort from the spine is the leading reason for visiting our facility and we are very experienced in the management and therapy of spinally pain discussions. Botox is a fairly secure ways of controlling discomfort, nonetheless some side effects have actually been reported.

Brands: Botox ® Or Bocouture.

In addition, speaking via possible negative effects, however unlikely, assists alleviate worries as well as assists bust some relentless flowing misconceptions. In the era of pleasure principle, people love to be able to observe treatment impacts within hours or days, and also we find our individuals at Qutis Clinics enjoy this.

These consist of signs and symptoms akin to flu, where the patient may have a fever, chill, muscular tissue pain, lightheadedness or a feeling of being lightheaded. Where the disorder does not respond well to these therapies, then either electrical stimulation of the nerves or botox might be made use of to generate a good outcome. Clients likewise need to be mindful that a botox injection will not cure the trouble, it just alleviates the discomfort that is being experienced. Dermal filler is commonly utilized in the lower face yet can be utilized throughout the whole face relying on the result you would love to achieve. As an example, Dr Julia utilizes volumising filler in the chin or nose-to-mouth lines, whereas syrupy fillers deal with locations with great lines or thin skin, such as around the mouth, or in the tear troughs. Dermal fillers are sometimes described as soft cells fillers as well as are compounds designed to be infused below the surface area of the skin to add quantity and volume. As we age, the natural collagen as well as elastin in the skin reduces, and also the cells lose their ability to naturally generate even more of these materials.

The Crawler Internet Facelift.

Nevertheless, it must be stressed this just influences a little minority of people. Botulinum toxic substance therapy cost hinges on the number of areas being treated. Please additionally keep in mind that treatment rates for guys might vary according to muscle tone. To discover more, publication your preliminary examination at our online booking site in the menu on top of this page. Various other treatments such as chemical peels as well as micro-needling can supply advantage in dealing with creases resulting from sunlight exposure as well as UV damages.

You might likewise be able to have various other treatments after HIFU if your cancer cells comes back, such as surgical treatment or radiotherapy.

If this takes place, there are better treatments that you can have which goal to get rid of or regulate the cancer.

Usually, the procedure is well endured, nonetheless, there are areas where the treatment comes to be much more extreme or awkward; commonly this is along the jawline or the brow.

The Doublo S treatment is a second generation HIFU tool and is far more comfortable than the original Ultherapy treatment.

Botox Shots are an extremely efficient therapy to minimize lines as well as wrinkles on the forehead, frown lines as well as face, crows feet and smokers lines. The reduction of these healthy proteins suggests the skin loses flexibility leading the formation of lines as well as creases, crows feet, lined top lip and also hollow cheeks. To start with, you will agree upon your very own personal treatment plan with your Nurse Specialist. This is frequently a combination of numerous different treatments including BOTOX as well as fillers or perhaps CoolSculpting. These treatments might be spread over numerous check outs or may be given in one consultation. We wish you discovered this botox short article valuable and also desire all the best which ever therapies you select to have!

What Brand Names Of Fillers Does Dr Farrell Use?

If you want to speak to one of our highly educated aesthetic registered nurses then contact us via the call us create or call now. Talking over this with patients is needed to manage assumptions and also make sure they don't take the therapy as well gently, specifically if it's their very first experience with Botox.

What is the best collagen for anti aging?

Here, we've rounded up the best collagen powders for glowing, youthful-looking skin.Best Overall: Vital Proteins Collagen Peptides. Best Budget: NeoCell Super Collagen Powder. Best Value: Essential Elements Collagen Peptides Powder. Best Splurge: Crushed Tonic Anti-Aging Collagen Elixir. More items•

There are 2 options for treating the problem with Botox, first one being providing the medication to the paralysed side of the face. This assists release unneeded stress from the extremely limited muscle mass, along with remove unwanted facial tics. Despite the factor, Botox can assist reverse this problem that creates people to regularly appear exhausted, sad as well as irritated, along with older than their actual age. In this instance, Botox works by relaxing the included muscular tissues and maintaining them aloft. Considering that being approved for wrinkle therapy in 2002, Botox in Oxford has become hugely prominent for people looking for an aesthetic treatment. Nonetheless, Botox isn't everything about the looks-- as well as if you get on a fencing regarding this one-of-a-kind therapy, it might deserve understanding some of the lower recognized advantages of Botox with them.

Clare uses a complete consultation prior to therapy to talk about your problems, evaluate your demands and also answer any type of questions you may have. This brings in a ₤ 35 reservation fee payable beforehand which is then redeemable versus any type of treatments or products recommended. As hifu facelift newport pagnell with several years in aesthetic technique Clare will certainly ensure that your treatment looks all-natural as well as is taken on with the gentlest touch. best Collagen restoration Facelift for of her people are recommended by others that have claimed that they have never had such a pain free experience.

Falcon Quarterback Soars after Unique HIFU Procedure - Stanford Children's Health Blog - Stanford Children's Health

Falcon Quarterback Soars after Unique HIFU Procedure - Stanford Children's Health Blog.

Posted: Mon, 02 Dec 2019 08:00:00 GMT [source]

Botox interrupts the nerve signals and the affected muscle is therefore loosened up. Consequently, the details muscular tissues treated will certainly not move as much and specific creases may be softened, lowered or perhaps gotten rid of. Certified physicians and also Registered nurses will certainly review the procedure before any type of treatment, describing any kind of possible negative effects. At the Visual Beauty Centre, our therapies are performed by skilled and also seasoned clinical workers and also hence side effects are minimal.

" I would advise that if an individual is certain that is a selection they want to make, they need to begin preventatively in their late 20s or very early 30s, depending upon their skin. Preferably, you ought to be available in before a long-term resting line shows up on your skin. We can provide you a suggestion of the results to expect when we map out your skin". " The exact same relief can be provided using Botox for Pearly whites Grinding to relax the muscle mass and reduce discomfort. It additionally forms the jawline if it has ended up being square due to teeth grinding. Botox functions by blocking nerve signals in the muscles where it has been injected.

Cardiac Ablation Market, Size, Growth Drivers, Market Opportunities, Industry Trends and Forecast to 2026 - Murphy's Hockey Law

Cardiac Ablation Market, Size, Growth Drivers, Market Opportunities, Industry Trends and Forecast to 2026.

Posted: Fri, 15 Jan 2021 09:21:52 GMT [source]

[gprado34-blog]

MIMQ RATING

To The Bone

To The Bone tells the story of Ellen, a 20 year old woman struggling with Anorexia Nervosa. The film follows her journey after being kicked out of treatment for refusal to cooperate. We meet her family and are shown many possible things that may have attributed to her developing an eating disorder, from her absent father to her mother who seems to have given up on her, to the death of a young girl which she feels responsible for. She is put in the path of Dr. Beckham, a Doctor whose unconventional methods for eating disorder recovery are her last resort. As she moves through her journey, we watch her interact with the people in Dr. Bechkam’s inpatient and with her family. The film ends with her returning to the treatment center of her own accord, embracing recovery after leaving abruptly.

Authentic:

Criteria:

The film never explicitly says that Ellen has Anorexia Nervosa, however, based on her symptoms, rituals and habits she exhibits and clues from the other characters of the movie, she fits an accurate depiction of a sufferer of the disease. When deciding my Authenticity rating for the film, I will look at Ellen, and analyze whether her symptoms shown are conducive with a factual depiction of Anorexia Nervosa, or if it promotes any myths or misunderstandings.

Facts:

Anorexia Nervosa is a mental illness that is characterized by restricting or abstaining from eating, having a BMI that is extremely low, being malnourished or underweight, obsession with food- including rituals when eating such as cutting food into small pieces, controlling what exactly is eaten, calorie counting and distorted body image.  

A person suffering with Anorexia Nervosa may have trouble being around food, strange habits or rituals when around food, denies being hungry, and will usually exercise compulsively to burn off any calories consumed, however small. Physical symptoms include but are not limited to Lanugo, which is comorbid with Anorexia because it is the bodies way of attempting to keep itself warm by growing hair, from an excessive loss of body fat. A woman with Anorexia will usually lose her period. Dizziness, feeling cold constantly, and dressing in layers to hide weight loss or stay warm are also signs.

When the illness progresses to severe points, many patients have a tube inserted through the nasal cavity to introduce calories into the system (usually not by choice). Continuing on, hallucinations from malnutrition may occur, fainting and eventually, when it has continued to a fatal point, usually causes an electrolyte imbalance and cardiac arrest.

Examples from the Movie:

From the very first 5 minutes of the film we get our first look into Ellen’s brain and her obsession with food. She is leaving a treatment center and as she is driving by in a taxi, if you watch closely, she notices a grocery store and Taco Bell, and becomes visibly uncomfortable. At the dinner table, her sister plays a game of “guessing calories” with her and she gets all of the calories of the food on her plate correctly. She exhibits other symptoms such as body checks (when she holds her arm with her fingers to see how big her arms are) and constant exercise in the form of sit-ups on the floor, which gives her bruises. The scene in the bathroom with her stepmother shows that she is clearly underweight and malnourished, you are shown her almost bare body which is thin to an extreme. When we see her around food, she picks at it and cuts it into tiny pieces, moves it around with her fork, or takes miniscule bites- to give the appearance that she is eating without actually eating.

When she is examined by Dr. Beckham, he asks when her last menstrual period was- she doesn’t remember, it was a “long time ago”. He also points out the Lanugo she has, which is a condition in malnourished people wherein their bodies grow hair to keep them warm. She also wears multiple layers and sweaters, to keep herself warm. In the treatment home, we hear Luke and Pearl use the word “rexies” a slang term for Anorexia, which is an actual mention and acknowledgement of the Eating Disorder. She mentions being “tubed” a few times, and then at another point when asked about purging she responds that it was never “her thing” which leads the audience to conclude that based on all of these symptoms, rituals and clues she suffers from Anorexia Nervosa.

Analysis of Examples:

All of the symptoms and signs listed for an individual with Anorexia Nervosa are vast and vary from person to person. However, Ellen displayed a wide variety of them and although it is never expressly said that she is Anorexic, we know based on the facts that she does exhibit these signs and symptoms and it can be concluded from this and the absence of purging or binging that she has Anorexia Nervosa, and not Bulimia Nervosa or Binge Eating Disorder, as those are characterized with different, but sometimes similar symptoms.

I feel that the actual diagnosis should have been mentioned at least once for the audience. I know many people do not know the differences between the Eating Disorders classified in the DSM-V.

I feel that the portrayal of Anorexia Nervosa through Ellen was very accurate. I didn’t see any of it that was dramatized. They tried to cover many of the symptoms to make it clear to the audience what she was struggling with- even the unappealing parts such as mentioning the Lanugo and her loss of her menstrual period. They showed a clear image of her body, which was emaciated to show that she was extremely underweight. Her rituals and obsession with food were sometimes subtle, but there and noticeable. She had bruises from constant sit-ups and was shown wanting to exercise in the form of walking or wanting to run whenever she could. Overall based on the facts about Anorexia and the specific things we saw Ellen do and go through, I would give this film a “Strongly Agree” about their authenticity, with a dark green heart.

Attractive:

Criteria:

The things I will be focusing on when rating Ellen’s attractiveness to the audience are her attitude towards others, especially in treatment and towards her family and her physical appearance. I will talk about her physical appearance only because many people in the audience will view it as one of the most important things in the film, considering the subject matter.

Examples from the Film:

Firstly, Ellen’s attitude towards others changes throughout the film, but she is abrasive, distant and even sometimes mean as we follow her journey. Our first introduction to her character involves her belittling a patient in her treatment center by responding to her share with “Society’s to blame. The World is so Unfair. I have to Die.” in a sarcastic, exasperated tone. She then holds up a sign that says “Suck My Skinny Balls.” That is our first encounter with her. She seems to be, at a glance, closed off, but when we see her interact with her sister we see a softer side of her that shows vulnerability. Her asking about her father’s absence also hints at an inner child that wants and craves love from her parents. The ice really begins to melt when she meets Luke and he works his way through her tough exterior. Then, during her family therapy she seems like a little kid, quietly sitting and almost dissociating from the moment as her “moms” argue around her. She has a complex personality. She has moments, such as when Luke is trying to get her to eat a candy bar where she snaps and is cruel, and the viewer might assume that she is a mean person. We then see the shadows of a different Ellen when they go on a non-date to a Chinese restaurant, laughing and joking with him as he gets them beers pretending they are cancer patients. She decides to change her name to Eli to mark the start of a new her.  By the end of the film, she embraces her sister and stepmother (who she seemed not to like very much) and we see her walk into treatment looking lighter and transformed.

Ellen is classically beautiful, but she is clearly underweight and is shown in the  opening of the film in baggy, dark clothes, with boots and smoking a cigarette. I think the film is trying to show this to make the point that Anorexia isn’t about being “attractive” or “thin” and “pretty”. She is shown in her underwear in the bathroom with her stepmother and we see how malnourished her body is. She is extremely underweight. At the end of the film, as her disease progresses, her face gets more and more gaunt, her eyes become dark and lifeless and her lips become dry and cracked.

Analysis of Examples:

I don’t believe the film wanted to make Ellen very attractive to the audience. They wanted to show the “ugly” side of Anorexia. She was just attractive enough to draw people in, based on her personality and the likeable parts of it- her interactions with her half-sister, her relationship with Luke, her childlike innocence with her mother, and her penchant and talent for artwork. Her clothing made her look “cute” and she is a pretty girl, as is very apparent when we see “healthy” Ellen in her hallucination. The end of the film brings her full circle and the audience sees her as she is, a young adult who wants to get better and is connecting with her family and with people after her epiphany. She also, however, had an ugly side in which she could be sarcastic, biting, cruel and withdrawn. When we see her body fully, it is not “attractive”. Her stepmother even asks her, rhetorically, “Do you think that’s beautiful?” And it isn’t- it looks sickly, which is a truth that is hard to swallow and look at. Because these two contrasts are so stark to each other, I will give the Attractiveness rating of the film a neutral “Neither Agree nor Disagree” white heart.

Friendly:

Criteria:

The criteria I will focus on here will exclusively look at Ellen’s family, her stepmother, mother,  father and half-sister. I will look to see if they are supportive of her recovery, and if their support came across in a constructive and helpful way, instead of a damaging or guilt inducing way, which is unintentional sometimes but harmful nonetheless.

Examples from the Movie:

Ellen’s half-sister is absolutely the most supportive of her, followed (strangely) by her bumbling and somewhat catty but well meaning step mother. Her father and mother are absent and when we do hear about them, Ellen’s mom is in Phoenix with her new wife and her father is nowhere to be found. In the film, we never see Ellen’s father. He doesn’t come to the group session, or to dinner. Ellen never interacts with him. Her stepmother, Susan, is critical but also through her actions and certain moments in the film shows that she cares about Ellen. She gets her a “hamburger” cake that although was a horrible idea, it was well meaning. She takes a picture of her in the bathroom as well and unintentionally shames her. She tries again to get her into treatment, and although she is annoying and pushy, she is trying to help her genuinely. WHen she is embraced by Ellen at the end of the film, her shock and happiness are shown so clearly you see that she loves her. Kelly is loving. They share moments like on the hill when she shows her her butterfly tattoo, and when she asks her, in a quiet moment of desperation at the dinner table, “will you please try this time?” In therapy, she admits the pain she feels at having her life taken over by Ellen’s illness and although her feelings are valid, she says that her friends view Ellen as a “freak who killed a girl” and also says at one point that she “doesnt get it… like just eat.” which are both very unhelpful. Ellen’s biological mother, Judy, is revealed to have had bipolar manic breakdowns, and left Ellen’s father for her best friend, Olive. They reject taking Ellen back in with them, stating that they are too tired to help her and they cant take her “right now”. In the end, when Ellen ends up back with her mother and the infamous “rice milk” scene happens- where Judy states that it might be her fault because of PPD that Ellen has issues with eating. She feeds 20 year old Ellen rice milk, holding her like a baby in a hut outside. It is both uncomfortable and a nod to extremists who believe that all things can be cured through spirituality and weird pseudo-therapies.

Analysis of Examples:

I try to look at this from the perspective of the audience and not someone with a family that very closely resembles some parts of Ellen’s family. Her father is clearly uninvolved- the reason doesn’t really matter. Him not being there is enough to show that she doesn’t have his support. Her sister Kelly clearly loves and supports her but is shown to be tired of dealing with the illness her sister has- which I understand, but the audience may take it another way. This film speaks differently to people who have had or love someone who has had an Eating Disorder. Kelly is mostly loving though and I do take her age into account, I believe in the therapy session when she finally vented to Dr. Beckham maybe it was the first time anyone had asked her how she felt. All in All, Kelly was loving and supportive of Ellen. Susan, although she could come off as ditzy and overbearing, was the one doing the most out of anyone to make sure Ellen could get treatment. She was genuinely happy when Ellen gave her a hug at the end of the movie. I feel she was also very supportive and loving, but also had a side of her that did not understand Eating Disorders and so she made a lot of mistakes, like taking a picture of her in the bathroom, etc. I think Judy is too wrapped up in herself and her own life(shown when Ellen takes a look at her Facebook) to really be the type of mother she should be to Ellen. At least based on what is shown in the film, I don’t know what happened before. The rice milk scene was just gross and unhelpful, and at the dinner table when Olive and Judy are talking about Dr. Beckham having a “god complex” and talking badly about Susan it was clear that they had a somewhat self centered nature. Based on Kelly and Susan supporting (even though at times it wasn’t the best) and never giving up on her, even going to treatment to find her when she left, and being there to embrace her when she got back, to dropping her off at treatment again, I feel that the friendliness in the film deserves a light green heart or an Agree. I think that her stepmother and Kelly’s love and support of Ellen brings the film from a neutral rating to an “Agree” rating.

Hopeful:

Criteria:

What I will focus on when determining whether the film showed a hopeful ending for the audience is based on whether the film ended on a note that showed a positive outcome or transitional experience for Ellen.

Examples from the Movie:

After her epiphany moment in the desert, wherein Ellen sits on a tree with Luke looking luminous and healthy, she looks down to see her grey, emaciated corpse on the ground and is shocked, asking “is that me?” She swallows a piece of coal Luke gives her, that is supposed to represent her courage. We see her awake in the desert, lips dry and cracked, severely underweight and looking much differently than the Ellen we were first introduced to. She checks her pulse, laughs, gets up and walks out of the desert, and seemingly straight into the yard and arms of her sister and stepmother. She hugs her tightly, whispering “Im gonna be okay.” into her ear.  We then see her returning to Dr. Beckhams treatment of her own volition, looking lighter, even dressed differently,in white and a light sweater, with her hair pulled up and a smile on her face as she greets the other house members. She hit rock bottom, got up and decided she wanted to live.

Analysis of Examples:

The ending being her returning to treatment after her epiphany in the desert is a very hopeful ending. She experienced near death, survived, and her first move was to walk away from the desert, and straight into the arms of the two people who supported her most in the film, Susan and Kelly. Then back to treatment. Her smile and a sense of peace as she said that she was going to be okay indicates to the audience that she is serious about her treatment this time, and that there is a huge chance she will recover. I give the Hopeful part of the film a solid green heart as a rating.

Helpful:

Criteria:

I believe the most important criteria to determine if the mental health professionals in this film were portrayed as helpful to the audience is to see if the way they treated Ellen’s Eating Disorder was in a way that was specific to her problem, ethical, responsible, professional and effective.

Facts:

People suffering with Eating Disorders generally have trouble opening up about their problem and trusting people to help them recover. It is natural for them to resist getting better. They need a therapist or doctor who can guide them gently and with patience.  Eating Disorders are severe illnesses that are often fatal, they have the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric illness. Specifically, Anorexia Nervosa.

A mental health professional should always behave professionally and ethically. One of the first rules in regards to being in the medical profession is “first, do no harm.” Mental Health professionals must be sensitive to the individual needs of each patient, and have a manner about them that helps to take people who are in a vulnerable state, in the throes of mental illness, and guide them to a place where they are able to get better. They should conduct themselves professionally and in a manner that creates clear boundaries between themselves and their patients. Creating too much of an air of familiarity breeds problems such as projection of emotions or co-dependency.

There are several forms of treatment that are extremely effective for treating Eating Disorders, specifically Anorexia Nervosa. These include but are not limited to ACT, DBT, CBT, CRT and Family Based treatment. It is important to note that Family Based Treatment, in which families are taught to be support systems for the individual suffering from an Eating Disorder, and are shown how to be sensitive and help them recover has merit to it. This method of treatment is also known as the Maudsley method. It is very important, even in cases where the individual is not using FBT as their treatment, that their family and support system be educated and involved as much as is necessary to ensure that a patient in treatment be successful when they leave.

Examples from the Movie:

Dr. Beckham was supposed to be portrayed, I think, as that “tough love” doctor, almost akin to Robin Williams portrayal of Dr. Sean McGuire but a little less intense. Beckham tells Ellen in their first meeting- when she says she doesn’t need more inpatient- that if she doesn’t agree to it then she “needs to find another doctor.” He tells her he “sees kids like her everyday, and as a rule they are usually full of shit”. He uses profanity a lot, from the very first time they meet. While I personally don’t have a problem with it, he doesn’t yet know his patients to see what makes them comfortable. He even curses during the family therapy scene. I feel that he sits back and lets chaos unfold but doesn’t lead the narrative or do what he should as a health professional to ensure that the conversation stays productive and on topic. After that, he completely writes off family therapy. He also seems to not be very present during Ellen’s recovery, or at least not as present as I imagine a mental health professional with a recovery home should be. When Susan and Kelly go to him, concerned because she left treatment, then he tells them that it is important for her to “hit bottom” in order to recover. He is never shown doing any particularly important work- only short snippets in which he talks to Ellen about changing her name, or in their last session when he really works the “tough love” angle and also seems to encourage a relationship between Ellen and Luke stating “what happened with you [two]? Seemed like you had a good thing going. He then calls her “childish and cowardly” for wanting to be reassured, and gives a very movie- ish speech about the uncertainty of life that even gave me anxiety. He tells her to stop waiting for someone to save her, after she tells him that he’s supposed to teach her how to live healthily. Ellen leaves in a hurry, and leaves treatment.

Analysis of Examples:

Dr. Beckham’s rough exterior and initial dismissive nature in his first meeting with Ellen may have made for an edgy attention grabbing Doctor type for the film, but is extremely misleading for the audience. A person in a place as vulnerable as Ellen would probably have left and not went to seek help again. Being dismissed that way is not ethical or professional. There were many ways he could have handled that first meeting when she said she didn’t need inpatient that weren’t as rude. If a Doctor told me I was full of shit, I would report them. That isn’t just unethical, its unprofessional and dangerous to gamble with someone’s mental health by speaking to them in a way that can come off as aggressive or uncaring. If a Doctor is working in the mental health field, I believe they should conduct themselves under the saying of “Doing No Harm.”

His complete dismissal of her family as a “shit-show” is extremely damaging. Families can be very beneficial to treatment, if taught with patience the proper way to support their loved one. If he were unable to get them to cooperate, that would be one thing, but writing the, off after one group session in which he sat back and let women that had previous issues bicker, instead of leading the conversation somewhere it could have benefitted Ellen more than traumatized her again, it may have worked. He needed more time with her family before completely throwing away the idea that they could help her.

The film didn’t place enough emphasis on the support of a mental health professional in recovery.  Dr. Beckham was not very present, in fact we only see him 6 times in the film for a total of 17 minutes. It seems that he wasn’t involved enough, from what the audience is shown. At one point, he asks Ellen about her relationship with Luke and it seems like he’s encouraging it which I think is very unethical considering they are both in his treatment center and mental health professional should not be giving opinions about the personal lives of his clients in that way, as it can be very triggering for them. The last session he has with Ellen, where she is very clearly getting sicker and in a vulnerable place, he pushes her to the point where she leaves treatment by almost provoking a panic attack and not giving her any reassurance or guidance when she clearly needs it, even asking for it. It may have made for a “good” movie moment but it was extremely misleading to the audience to believe that this was a proper way of treating a patient. All in All I would give Dr. Beckham a grey heart for “Disagree” because while I don’t think he was intentionally trying to harm Ellen, he behaved in a way that was NOT helpful.

References

National Alliance on Mental Illness(n.d.) Eating Disorders; symptoms, diagnosis, causes and treatment. Retrieved from:

https://www.nami.org/learn-more/mental-health-conditions/eating-disorders

National Alliance on Mental Illness (January 2013) Anorexia Nervosa Fact Sheet. Retrieved from: https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/d140/e26781f10daaf5ff40f46b416fbc6159d03a.pdf

National Eating Disorders Association (n.d). Anorexia. Retrieved from: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/learn/by-eating-disorder/anorexia

Cleveland Clinic(June 27, 2019). Anorexia Nervosa: Management and Treatment. Retrieved from: https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/9794-anorexia-nervosa/management-and-treatment

National Eating Disorders Association (n.d). Types of Treatment. Retrieved from: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/types-treatment

Beresin, Eugene. (July 21, 2017). Two Psychiatrists Weigh in on Netflix’s To The Bone. Retrieved from: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/inside-out-outside-in/201707/two-psychiatrists-weigh-in-netflix-s-the-bone

[unapologeticallybella]

I Don’t Look Like J-Lo but Someone is Gonna Love Me Anyway

TW: Body Dysmorphia/ E.D   

   I’m going to go ahead and say, I am so happy I am not a notably attractive person. I’m not saying I’m ugly in the slightest but you know what I’m talking about. Those people where their attractiveness is one of their defining traits. Like you mention their name and almost always someone responds with, “Oh, the pretty one.” Yeah that’s not my story and that probably won’t ever be me. What I’ve noticed about those kinds of people is that almost always their personality suffers in some way shape or form. I’m not saying notably pretty people can’t have a good personality but basically yes, it’s rare. So when you don’t get to lean into your beauty, you tend to lean on other things like humor, kindness, intelligence; Oh, did I mention humor? One of my earliest memories is being around six years old, waking up in the middle of the night in a god damn panic. I ran to my mom hysterically crying. I said, “I don’t wanna be ugly.” I couldn’t really tell you what she said because I genuinely don’t remember. Obviously it didn’t make me feel better because here we are sixteen years later and I still wake up with that panic from time to time, only now I just don’t wake anyone up to hear me cry about it (that sounds a lot darker than I intended for it to.) Anyway, what I’m saying here is that I’ve always struggled with the way I look. 

   We all have that voice in our head that tells us we look like shit, that we shouldn’t post certain pictures, and that everyone else sees what we see; I swear sometimes I’d just rather stay home. I know everyone looks back at their old pictures and thinks “Wow, why was I so insecure, I looked fucking amazing.” It’s a pretty common thing, I know. For some of us that voice inside our head is a bit louder and a lot more persistent, mine was very cruel and eventually it just kind of took me over. I’ve never really talked about what I dealt with because I did it so privately; partly out of guilt because I knew I was harming myself and secondly because it was something for me to control and I didn’t want to lose that. I think I was eleven when someone else commented on my weight for the first time, I was 115 pounds. That’s when it started. I would go through these spells of not eating, restrictive diets, the obsessive calorie counting; no one noticed. This continued on and off for years, I love food so fucking much that it eventually turned into bingeing and then starving myself for the day, then bingeing again. Eventually I gained weight because my hunger would just build up, my cravings would just get stronger and I would lose every time; I’d binge. I would eat so fucking much. I could eat entire pizzas within 15 minutes, boxes of Oreos, bowls of cereal, tubs of ice cream, blocks of cheese; it’s absurd how fast I could eat it all. I was obsessed with diets, skinny detox teas, meal replacements were my favorite, and I loved watching my fitness pal tell me how much I could lose if I maintained the low calorie intake. My junior year, I tried making myself throw up for the first time. It was such an easy way to get rid of the guilt I felt for eating that much food, it helped me maintain the weight for a while. I really wasn’t under the impression that it was a problem because I wouldn’t do it often, only when I lost control and ate enough for me to feel fucking disgusting.

   You could say it might be emotional eating but what I’ve come to learn is that sadness absorbs my ability to feel hunger; it’s kinda great if you have a fucking problem like mine. My first breakup, I couldn’t eat solid foods for a few weeks; I genuinely only ate a cup of yogurt a day and Cheez-its when I felt like passing out. I lost weight immediately. It made me feel so powerful; I loved the feeling of hearing that I looked good. What’s crazy is that the power only lasts so long before that voice inside tells you still look like a troll. I look back at these pictures where I clearly look small and tiny but in that moment I promise you; I didn’t see that in the slightest, I couldn’t. My senior year, I got better for a while. I was the biggest I had ever been, and I felt like everyone could notice; I thought my curves looked weird and the way my body just held fat in the worst places made me want to die sometimes. I did crash diets on and off that year; I was extremely self conscious and hated the way I looked. I moved to New York, and I had started taking Ritalin (prescribed okay kids.)  Three weeks in, I forgot to eat for a little over two days. I genuinely did not feel hunger in my body. I was outside a hotel during fashion week, waiting for Kylie Jenner to show up when I had a full blown paranoid delusion. I called my mom thinking a bomb was going off. “Mom, I’m looking right at this cop and he looks fucking worried, Mom. Get me on a plane I need to come home right now. Something is happening, there are loud noises.” Then she tried to calm me down, she asked when the last time I ate was and when I tried to think back I was like, “Oh shit that bagel I had was literally two full days ago.” Yeah, so I stopped taking Ritalin, I think that would have been a dangerous combo for me.

   I struggle to call it an eating disorder because I never looked sick; it didn’t ruin my life; it didn’t hurt me (I don’t think) but I definitely wasn’t healthy. I think that was my turning point; I was tired of feeling weak all the time; I was tired of obsessing; I was so burnt out from all of it and I decided I wanted to stop it all completely. I eventually gained over sixty pounds over two years, it’s been a fucking nightmare let me tell you. Every day, I struggle with my body and what goes on inside my head. I tell myself awful things; I know that it’s not good, but it doesn’t really go away. I fight so hard to not fall down that path because I don’t want that for me; I don’t know how bad I could get and that scares me. I went out of my way for the past two years to prove to myself that I didn’t have a problem anymore by constantly treating myself with food. It’s like every time I ate a shit ton and I didn’t throw up was a success but then at the same time it wasn’t. Turns out that guilt manifests in different ways and it’ll find its way to you. I’ve gotten to the point where I know the weight gain is noticeable, I feel like people think the awful things I do; So I did the only thing I knew how, laugh it off. Humor baby! Self deprecation is my middle name, sweetie. 

   I know I joke a lot about the way I look and the weight I’ve gained, it’s all light-hearted, but it actually gets pretty dark in this neck of the woods. Body dysmorphia is a mean bitch; She didn’t even allow me to enjoy my skinny days, talk about a shitty time. I used to do this thing where I would wash my hands on the right side of the sink just to avoid being in front of a mirror; “I just don’t wanna ruin my day, ” I’d always say. Anyone who knows me knows I’ve always used the same 2 inch mirror when doing my makeup because “looking at my whole face all at once is overwhelming.” You did not want to be around me when I couldn’t find that mirror, now that was a full-blown panic attack. I’m trying to be kinder to myself, now that doesn’t mean I won’t still make self-deprecating jokes but I’m trying to unlearn that shit. I go through body positive phases where I force myself to look at myself and find things I like. I unfollow Instagram models sometimes but it doesn’t matter; pretty people are everywhere baby. Every day is a god damn battle with myself; I can look at in the mirror and say “Hey you look good today” out loud but that bitch inside my head is screaming “You look like Shrek dumbass.” Having a past where men weren’t all that nice to me; I have an inherent feeling that if I was prettier, a lot of the things that happened to me maybe wouldn’t have (Come to find out even the hottest people get cheated on too, sick world we live in.) You know I’ve spent so many years comparing myself to other women because of something some asshole did to make me feel insecure; I always fall short so I’m done doing that now. Sometimes I worry that even if I lose the weight or if I cosmetically change the things I don’t like, that voice still won’t go away. Then what? What if I’m never happy with myself regardless of the ways I can change my appearance, I mean there’s a pretty good chance that could happen. So I’ve decided that I need to find a way to fall in love with myself the way I am right now. 

   People always preach “love yourself” and all that shit, but it’s so hard when it’s just you alone with your thoughts. Feeling love for yourself is arguably one of the most difficult things you’ll ever learn to do, it takes a kind of strength I’m trying to find. I will say, I do think the way I feel about myself has projected itself onto my relationships and in-turn sabotaged them. I have always required a certain amount of reassurance and affection from my partners which I’m sure can be draining but I forgive myself for that now. I have so much love for others that it just pours out of me uncontrollably and somehow I can’t find a way to feel that love for myself; it’s quite the problem to hauve. I’m learning to protect myself from that voice inside of me; I avoid things that I know will trigger me and cause me to spiral. I’ve been trying to lose the weight I gained these past two years, but for the first time I’m addressing the inner work. I acknowledge my weaknesses, I know my vices, I know myself better than ever now and that makes all the difference. Last December I forced myself to pick a form of exercise and like it, so I picked cycling. The first time I took a class, I actually catapulted out of the bike. I felt like the biggest idiot, but I tricked myself into enjoying the class. I just told myself that I would feel like one of those people who thinks spin is equivalent to a morning cup of coffee and eventually that’s how I genuinely felt.  Now it’s been almost a year since I made that choice and I’m so happy I forced myself out of bed. After the breakup, my mom really wanted me to start yoga to “soothe my anxiety” and it did surprisingly. It’s amazing what you can do for your body by just taking time to just sit there in silence and think about nothing. Sometimes when it’s that quiet, feelings come up and before you know it you’re on the beach on a yoga mat crying in the arms of your yoga instructor. These past six months, I have healed things inside of myself that I genuinely didn’t know where there. It’s been a mixture of therapy, cycling, yoga, listening to my body, forgiving myself, forgiving others and learning to love the parts of me that I don’t (oh and just not eating Chick-fil-a so fucking much.) This picture is me in my favorite pair of jeans, I bought them almost exactly a year ago and when I bought them they were snug and now this is what I’m working with. Is it sad that my favorite pair of jeans don’t fit me anymore? Hell yeah but I can finally say I can feel and see a difference in my body now. 

   So no, I probably won’t ever look like J-Lo and that’s okay. I’m probably always going to struggle with these issues and I will probably have that voice inside of me forever. But someone is gonna look at me and feel so fucking lucky; and it won’t just be because of the way I look. It’s going to be because of the way I make them laugh and the way love just pours out of me uncontrollably. Most importantly, when that love pours, it will be for me too. 

[carvedbones]

about the outsider’s mental state.

HIS MENTAL ILLNESS.

the outsider, ever since he were a child, has endured grave abuse of all natures   -----   from his parents,  from the children in the street,  from those whom he loved and lovers alike. as a result, he had developed a few mental illnesses that will come to haunt him throughout the years and have already tormented him for so very long. 

!! warnings for:   abuse,    sexual assault,  self harm.

01.  PTSD. the obvious one.  this is the first one that developed, his trauma forming ever since the first time his father hit him and left bruises on his skin. when he was much, much younger, around the age of 6,  his father first struck him for making the mistake of being a clumsy child.  resentment over having his wife’s attention taken away,  the outsider was punished for every little reason   ---   and sometimes even without one. he became a burden to the family,  cowering each time the sound of a man raising his voice was heard,  curling in on himself as if he were terrified;  whatever would take away the inevitable hurt,  he would attempt to use.  to compromise.  but it never worked.  he was his father’s stress relief,  something to act out on whenever things got hard.  he was supposed to be an obedient, happy daughter;  not some rebellious short-haired ugly creature.  the outsider was unfit to be a bride,  to give away to a rich man to secure their family’s financial future. it only worsened the abuse.

outside of his home were a specific group of boys.  always teasing him,  bullying him,  testing his limits,  touching him wherever he hated it most.  they never showed any respect for him and made it abundantly clear they didn’t care for formalities.  what a freak,  what an ugly kid,   with his messy hair and dark circles under his eyes.  they punished him too    ------  ripping his clothes,  leaving him disgusted at his own body and the way it responded to his new sexual trauma.  he cried for days,  until the salt pricked his sensitive skin,  until his face was swollen from his sorrow.

he never recovered properly.  if he attempts to sleep, nightmares will consume his rest. if anyone touches him without him initiating,  he will pull away.  

›  symptoms.    ---------     nightmares;  fear-induced paralysis;  prone to shaking and crying when slightly upset;  anger fueled by sorrow;  trust issues;  memory gaps;  body detachment;  hypersexuality;  cynicism;  hypervigilance.

02. SOCIAL ANXIETY.

paired with his trauma surrounding social interaction with his peers,  he is quite terrible at speaking to people in an environment he did not shape himself.  the sole reason the outsider is capable of having conversations with people without his insecurities interfering him in-game is because each of these conversations are within a controlled environment,  where most of the responses are easy to anticipate.   outside of that?  he’s very silent,  a quiet person.  does not initiate contact with people he does not know and becomes incredibly nervous when forced to interact with people he does not know.

›  symptoms.    ---------     avoidance of interaction with strangers he doesn’t know;  avoidance of becoming the center of attention;  extreme fear of being awkward or inappropriate;  shaking;  fast heartbeat;  nausea.

03.  BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER.

following the many,  many times wherein the outsider was hurt or abused,  it left him scarred and caused his development to be problematic and stunted in various ways.  as a result,  his ability to process emotions properly and act with great precision is somewhat messed up;  although this is mostly regulated now,  sometimes his emotions get the better of him and he becomes cold or sad depending on the circumstances,  for seemingly no reason to the people around him.  it’s also why he either praises or scolds his marked;  either they appease him or defy his wishes,  and depending on that his reaction is either subtly leaning towards positive or negative   -----   his responses always less overt.

this also causes him to struggle in interpersonal relationships where most people do not ---- his past has bred a sense of underlying paranoia that is difficult to soothe and control,  where the person he cares about can appear affectionate and the outsider will regard any sort of change as a sign of dislike towards him. more often than not, he can manage these feelings and dismiss them;  but if he doesn’t know someone well,  this makes it extremely easy for him to feel rejected.  as a result,  he can sometimes spontaneously stop speaking to someone,  stop appearing before them unless they wish for him to in an explicit manner.  with those he knows better or even loves... he is oddly honest.  he confronts people with his insecurities if he trusts them thoroughly and cannot make these emotions go away,  cannot force rationality upon the situation.  it will be extremely difficult to do  (hence why he barely gets close to anyone),  but it is vital to a relationship.

when he cannot make these feelings go away or cannot pinpoint the source of his dread,  he tends to chase whatever makes him feel better.  to most borderline people it’s drugs,  but to outsider’s it’s sex. sex with strangers he isn’t even attracted to.  hearing them call him “beautiful” even once is enough for his self esteem to soar,  thus he seeks it over and over and over.  no matter how dangerous and questionable it becomes,  if his suicidal tendencies are back, he’ll disguise himself as a human and find a man who marvels at his allure,  allowing them to feel in control over him for as long as he likes. 

if he cannot have access to that, he tends to scratch his skin in frustration instead.  no one ever sees this side of him  ---  where he digs his nails into his arms as they are crossed until the bleed and turn to wounds. luckily, he can no longer scar like this;  but he always remembers,  always will feel it.  

›  symptoms.    ---------     mood swings;  paranoia;  extreme fear of abandonment;  self destructive tendencies;  chronic feeling of emptiness;  impulsiveness;  unclear self image.

04.  PSYCHOSIS.

this one is a bit more complicated;  whenever the outsider’s sorrow becomes overwhelming,  it more often than not triggers mild auditory and visual hallucinations at night.  they are often minor but manage to scare him plenty regardless.  there are the visions that come to him naturally, however.

the void also induces his psychosis up to a certain point.  by planting sequences of horror in his head, giving graphic details of horrific possible events that few would be able to handle  --- not even himself.  sometimes it leaves him quiet, uncomfortable,  chaotic in his mind. he’s never certain how to handle it as there’s no one he can tell of this in a manner that would express how traumatic it is, as these are not dreams.  they’re a sequence of events that might be genuine,  every sensation within it more explicit than even his own memory.

›  symptoms.    ---------     hallucinations (auditory,  visual);  paranoia;  easily startled.