#what are the health benefits of water fasting

[styaweightloss-blog]

The Health Benefits of Water Fasting: An In-Depth Guide

Water fasting is a practice that has been used for centuries by different cultures to enhance physical and mental health. The benefits of water fasting have been well documented by research and personal experiences of many people around the world.

Firstly, water fasting has been shown to promote weight loss and reduce inflammation in the body. By restricting caloric intake, the body is forced to rely on its own energy stores for fuel, leading to a decrease in body fat and inflammation.

Moreover, water fasting has also been linked to improved insulin sensitivity and lower risk of type 2 diabetes. The practice promotes better blood sugar control by reducing the levels of insulin and glucose in the blood, resulting in increased insulin sensitivity.

Water fasting has also been shown to improve mental clarity and promote better cognitive function. It helps to flush out toxins from the body, allowing the brain to function optimally. eating same food everyday weight In addition, water fasting has been associated with reduced risk of heart disease and other chronic conditions. The practice has been shown to lower blood pressure, reduce inflammation, and improve lipid levels in the blood, which all contribute to better heart health.

In summary, water fasting has many health benefits, including weight loss, improved insulin sensitivity, better cognitive function, and reduced risk of chronic diseases. While it may not be suitable for everyone, when done correctly, water fasting can be an effective tool for improving overall health and wellness.

[sapphia]

USA please listen to me: the price of “teaching them a lesson” is too high. take it from New Zealand, who voted our Labour government out in the last election because they weren’t doing exactly what we wanted and got facism instead.

Trans rights are being attacked, public transport has been defunded, tax cuts issued for the wealthy, they've mass-defunded public services, cut and attacked the disability funding model, cut benefits, diverted transport funding to roads, cut all recent public transport subsidies, cancelled massive important infrastructure projects like damns and ferries (we are three ISLANDS), fast tracked mining, oil, and other massive environmentally detrimental projects and gave the power the to approve these projects singularly to three ministers who have been wined and dined by lobbyists of the companies that have put the bids in to approve them while one of the main minister infers he will not prioritise the protection of endangered species like the archeys frog over mining projects that do massive environmental harm. They have attacked indigenous rights in an attempt to negate the Treaty of Waitangi by “redefining it”; as a backup, they are also trying to remove all mentions of the treaty from legislation starting with our Child Protection laws no longer requiring social workers to consider the importance of Maori children’s culture when placing those children; when the Waitangi Tribunal who oversees indigenous matters sought to enquire about this, the Minister for Children blocked their enquiry in a breach of comity that was condemned in a ruling — too late to do anything — by our Supreme Court. They have repealed labour protections around pay and 90 day trials, reversed our smoking ban, cancelled our EV subsidy, cancelled our water infrastructure scheme that would have given Maori iwi a say in water asset management, cancelled our biggest city’s fuel tax, made our treasury and inland revenue departments less accountable, dispensed of our Productivity Commission, begun work on charter schools and military boot camps in an obvious push towards privatisation, cancelled grants for first home buyers, reduced access to emergency housing, allowed no cause evictions, cancelled our Maori health system that would have given Maori control over their own public medical care and funding, cut funding of services like budgeting advice and food banks, cancelled the consumer advocacy council, cancelled our medicine regulations, repealed free prescriptions, deferred multiple hospital builds, failed to deliver on pre-election medical promises, reversed a gun ban created in response to the mosque shootings, brought back three strikes = life sentence policy, increased minimum wage by half the recommended amount, cancelled fair pay for disabled workers, reduced wheelchair services, reversed our oil and gas exploration ban, cancelled our climate emergency fund, cut science research funding including climate research, removed limits on killing sea lions, cut funding for the climate change commission, weakened our methane targets, cancelled Significant National Areas protections, have begun reversing our ban on live exports. Much of this was passed under urgency.

It’s been six months.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling

gn reader

When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.

You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.

If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.

So you do. The latter, that is.

Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.

You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.

But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…

In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.

He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody. 

Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.

He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.

You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.

And then he comes crawling back…

Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away. 

He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.

Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.

“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”

You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all. 

“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”

“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.

You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.

But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”

“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”

He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.

You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.

“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”

He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.

“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”

He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.

The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.

His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…

Nothing. There’s a large exhale.

“I can’t do it…” 

You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.

He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.

This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.

“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”

The pity’s for you.

“This is what having my heart feels like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Flower Faced

Aemond x wife female character

Summary: a series of diary entries written by Aemond Targaryen following his tumultuous marriage and the realm's descent into war | word count: 13k~ | warnings: angst, smut, infertility, chronic illness, war, character death, wife features is described briefly, spoilers for f&b

15th day of the 4th moon, 128

They have made me a husband. A prince wed to a flower plucked too soon.

She stood before me by the Septon, trembling in her silken gown, her face pale as the moon. I was told her beauty would make up for her lack of standing. That her delicate disposition was proof of her good breeding, a prize unfit for a mere second son. How fitting, then, that it was to me she was given. A scrap for a scrap.

I find myself wondering how she might have appeared in better health, had her frame not been so thin, her skin not so colourless. She is the image of a flower wilting in the frost. I cannot fathom what my father intended when he arranged this match. Did he think her weakness would breed strength in me? That I would look upon her frailty and find myself tempered by pity?

Perhaps it is too kind to assume that my father put any thought into the matter. The one of little importance.

I feel nothing but irritation. A prince needs heirs, and she is as likely to bear a child as a winter rose is to bloom.

She retired early tonight, her maids fretting over her as though she were a babe in swaddling clothes. Preparing her for the bedding no doubt. Several lords approached me thereafter asking for a ‘bedding ceremony’. I fear her gentle heart would have given out if such a thing were to actually happen.

They tell me her name means ‘grace’ in the ancient tongues of the Reach. Grace, indeed. She moves as though her bones might shatter beneath her weight, her steps feather light. I suppose if I were to be truthful and perhaps kind, which I do not know why I should, I would admit there is a beauty in her fragility. Such is the beauty of a fine layer of ice on water in the early winter, easily broken with a mere breath to its surface.

I have no need for beauty, and no patience for weakness. Yet weakness is what I was served, wrapped in lace and trembling upon the bedsheets.

When consummation was inevitable, I thought I might snap the poor thing in two when I fucked her. She is so slight, so frail, as though the gods built her of spun glass and good intentions alone. She did not cry, though I expected it. She lay beneath me as one might endure the bite of a leech, silent, resigned, and still.

I despised her for it.

Not for her fragility, but for her acceptance. For the way she stared at the canopy, her lips pressed into a pale line, her hands gripping the sheets as if she feared being swept away by my storm. I do not know what I wanted. A protest, perhaps. A tear. Something to remind me that she was alive, that I was not bedding a corpse.

When it was over, she whispered, “Thank you, my prince,” so softly that I nearly thought I imagined it.

Thank you. For what? For duty? For what she believed was kindness? She did not look at me as she said it, and yet those two words have haunted me since.

It has been three nights now, and I have not returned to her chamber. Mother, ever dutiful, had broken fast with me the next morning to ensure ‘the act’ had indeed taken place, of which I confirmed it had. But she pressed no further on the matter, as if that was all that was important.

I tell myself it is for her benefit, that I do not wish to worsen her condition. But the truth, if I am to be honest here, is that I do not know what to do with her. She is no adversary, no equal, no dragon. 

She is a flower pressed flat by the weight of its own stem.

2nd day of the 5th moon, 128

The rain has not ceased for a fortnight. King’s Landing reeks of soiled hay and wet stone. I've kept to my chambers to avoid the rancid air, but the storm intrudes all the same.

She has been ill again. The maesters tell me that her disposition is weakened, the damp worsening her condition. It grates on me relentlessly to think that something as simple as rain is enough to set my sickly wife abed for days on end. As if she is made of sugar and will dissolve if she steps outside for a single moment.

I half-expected to hear of her passing this morning when I visited her. Pale and fragile as she appeared when her maids opened the curtains. And when she rose out of bed to look out the window, it was painfully, like a stubborn plant forcing its way through frozen soil.

I asked her why she did not wish to rest.

Her smile was as weak as her body.

“Once these rains have washed away, the grass in the Reach will be as green as those in the Seven Heavens.”

She thought of her home even now. She did not consider King's Landing her home.

Since she uttered those words, I have tried to see it as she does. To see past the filth and shit of King's Landing and imagine the fertile fields and warm sun. As she hails from the Reach, she is drawn to flowers, hence why I noted that day that there were so many strewn about the room in various vases.

They wilt in the damp, just as she does.

Sometimes I find myself watching her more often than perhaps I should. I reason that as much as I loathe it, she is my wife. Whether she notices my watching her and says nothing or is ignorant to it, I do not know.

She moves slowly, as if not to shatter her fragile bones, but not out of fear I now see. She is afraid of little I have noticed, though she has every reason to be. A girl as sickly as her wed to a prince known for his temper, gods, she should tremble when I blink.

But she does not.

I regret I spoke harshly to her. Told her to rest. Save her strength. To let the flowers wilt if they must.

And before retreating back to her bedsheets at the will of her maid, she said.

“Even wilted flowers have worth, my prince.”

I had no reply for her.

11th day of the 6th moon, 128

She looks better today. Has done for several days in a row, much to the maesters relief.

The flush in her cheeks was neither from fever or strain, but life. And seeing her now as opposed to how I had often known her, she was beaming with it. Whether it was out riding or the gardens, she would routinely ignore the advice of those who cared for her health to bask in the sun, if only for a mere few hours.

Her breath was even, her voice was clear.

For the first time since our wedding, we spoke freely.

I had not meant to stay for long, truly. But we walked through the gardens on a warm early afternoon. Although I had to stop every few paces to allow her to bend to retrieve some half-wilted flowers so she might place them in her basket.

She said the maesters said she will likely never be strong enough to bear children. At least healthy ones, or ones who would draw breath once born. That feminine melancholy drifted over her face for a moment, as if she suspected I already knew that truth myself.

And truly I had. It was why I had made no attempt to bed her since our consummation.

I did not know how to respond. Usually women speak of such matters with carefully shielded delicacy, whereas she spoke plainly. But I could not bring myself to express the disappointment I should have felt, or the anger that had simmered beneath the surface for so long.

Anger, perhaps not. Weary, maybe.

My answer was not one she would have expected. That I never asked for children. But in my stupidity, I had in fact said, I never asked her for children.

It seems I have driven an already sheathed blade even deeper.

My words may have been misshapen but they were the truth and that is all I have to offer her, is it not? I hold no love for her, but I would never deny such a fragile creature as my wife what I would give any other.

She said nothing. She lowered her lashes and the silence that followed was so unbearable I considered leaving her altogether.

I never asked her for children.

True enough, I suppose. But even I can see how little truth matters in the face of what I’ve taken from her.

I know as well as anyone, what I have actually expressed is that I expect nothing from her.

And perhaps the latter is more cruel.

14th day of the 6th moon, 128

Tonight, we coupled for the second time in our long marriage.

I had avoided her bed for months, claiming duties, council matters and brief bouts of illness that she no doubt didn’t believe as reasoning for my absence. Though after a time, people were beginning to whisper, so I had no choice but to comply. And there was a time where I believed my own mistruth, that I was sparing her. But in truth, I did not wish to see her fragility laid bare again.

She never protested, and likely never would.

So I went to her.

Her chambers were lit by a single candle dotted at several points around the room. She sat at her vanity, pulling her hair free of tight braids and pins. Her hands were so small and pale, I wondered if this small action itself did not overwhelm her delicate nerves. 

It was she who broke the silence. 

“Have you come to pity me, my prince?”

I almost turned away then. 

She let me unlace her gown, let me bare her to the dim firelight. 

It was less frantic though no less awkward. She held me as though she feared I might vanish, and I let her. Perhaps it was the wine, or the quiet of the hour. When I touched her, she shivered. And when my lips accidentally brushed against her neck, she tilted her head back. The floral perfumes she had applied to her skin felt too much of a distraction.

When I finished she looked up at me. It has always unsettled me, her ability to look upon me without flinching. I am a dragon and she is a petal, and yet it is I who wilts beneath her gaze. 

Even the bloodiest of injuries had no such effect on me. 

- - the day of the 8th moon, 128

Aegon celebrated his nameday swiftly as he usually does. It is the third time in one month where he has had to be dragged from celebrations because he is unable to handle his wine. He had of course revelled in the attention, called for songs, dancers and yet more Dornish Red, as if he had not had enough.

The lords humoured him. The ladies pretended not to notice. Father was not even in attendance, it was mother and Helaena who sat diligently at the top table, faces sullen as if they held the weight of the Realm on their shoulders.

For my part, I watched from the shadows, as I often do. My appetite for such things is thin at best, and thinner still with the murmurs that reached my ears tonight.

They speak of her. My wife.

“Too weak to attend,” one said. “She’s been frail since the wedding,” said another.

I could feel their eyes upon me, their pity or curiosity or judgment, I could not say which was worse. It felt such a disservice for others to remark upon her the way I have. 

Nobody was as shocked as I to see her when the doors to the hall opened. There she stood, walking carefully into the light, bathed in a dress that was not crimson, not dark, never. But red all the same, as if she had thought of honouring the house she wed into but not yet willing to loosen the reins on herself entirely. The colour was pale, muted, a shade more suited to her, though it did little to disguise her frailty. Truth be told, she does look sickly in red.

I knew she had wanted to wear it, though. That was why she had chosen it.

For a moment, I thought she might collapse under the weight of the eyes and silence on her.

I thought to rise as she approached me, but for some reason I did not. She inclined her head to me so faintly I doubt anyone else saw, and I saw her locks were adorned with jewellery she had not usually worn.

She inquired as to the whereabouts of my brother, no doubt asking whether the celebrated prince was on his very own nameday, but she did not seem downtrodden when I informed her he had retired to his chambers. As if it were a mere formality.

“Shall we dance, husband?”

I thought to refuse her, to spare her the strain, but the look in her eyes silenced me. And I could not very well be seen to refuse my own wife. She extended her hand, pale and trembling, and I took it without a word.

I thought it would embarrass me, this spectacle before the court. Her weakness had done so before, and I had no doubt it would do it again. But I could not bear to say the words aloud, not when she had dressed in my house colours for me.

I led her to the centre of the hall, her small frame so light beneath my guiding hand that I wondered how she had summoned the strength to stand, let alone to dance. When I placed my hand at her waist and we began to move, I noticed almost immediately that she was struggling to keep pace with the beat. Her breaths were short, shallow, her fingers tightening on my shoulder as though holding herself upright by sheer force of will. Still, she did not stop.

“I hope I have not made a spectacle of us,” she whispered.

I only said there was no need for her to apologise.

When her steps faltered again, I acted without thinking. I lifted her slightly, guiding her feet onto mine so that she would not have to move. She blinked at me, startled, but did not protest. For the first time that evening, her breaths seemed to ease, her grip on my shoulder loosening ever so slightly.

I kept my gaze forward, refusing to meet the eyes of the court. If they found it amusing, I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing it bother me.

I told her that when I was born, it was said I was half the size of Aegon, but twice as fierce. He had cried louder, but they said I fought harder. That perhaps it was the cruelty of the gods to make those of us born weaker feel as though we must prove ourselves twice over.

She studied me, with her soft eyes, but I did not meet them. I regret that now.

When I lost my eye, I told her, they pitied me. Looked at me as if I were a thing to be mended, or worse, endured. And that is I imagine how she feels when they look at her.

She said nothing for a moment, but the faint pressure of her hand against my shoulder told me she had heard.

“Yet, you have made yourself strong. Where I have not.”

For a moment I could only stare at her. But when I found my voice, it was hushed, so that others dancing around us might not hear.

“Strength is not always shown through the sword.”

She replied with nothing.

Perhaps we are not so different, she and I.

19th day of the 10th moon, 128

She is with the maesters today. 

I knew this but I found myself in her chambers regardless.

Aegon, in his perpetual state of drunkenness, had the gall to make a joke of it. Saying that she was with child. The court laughed of course, unable to tell the difference between a joke and insult. I am grateful she was not present to hear it. And for the fact that I did not defend her.

Her desk was an array of papers and cuttings as if she had left in a hurry. Lately she was more tired than usual, and instead of chills and shakes, she was hot to the touch and feverish. Perhaps nobody will understand her condition truly, but I am told that she has been this way since birth.

Lately I have found that practicing with the sword does not steal my attention the way it used to, so there I found myself, looking through the smatterings of paper and flowers, and I doubt it will be the last time.

A leather bound notebook sat snugly atop everything else, the pages fanned out as though abandoned mid-turn. I thought perhaps it was a diary, not unlike the one I keep myself, somewhere to keep my thoughts and worries if they arise. But the little writing that was present was descriptive, brief, and so feminine in its curves and loops that I could barely read it. 

When we were first wed, and for several months since then, I had watched closely and from afar as well as she insisted on walks through the gardens, even despite the advice of the maesters. She could not be stopped. She would fill her basket slung over her elbow with wilted, near-dead flowers, the petals curling inward, their stems drooping, 

I had not thought to ask her why then. Why she collected such things if they were already so close to falling short of bloom.

The flowers are pressed between the pages of a book, their fragile shapes preserved as though she has defied time itself. Beside them, in her careful script, she has labeled each one, names I recognise, though I have never cared to remember them before. A rose, a poppy, a sprig of thyme, rosemary. Even weeds have found their place here.

She has always been given to sentiment, to seeing beauty where others would not bother to look. It is a softness I have long struggled to understand. But she has made them more than what they were, given them a purpose beyond their fleeting bloom.

It was an evening primrose, its pale petals pressed so thin they seemed almost translucent. Beneath it, in her neat script, she had written:

“Evening primrose. For quiet devotion.”

And below that, a date, the day after we were wed.

I stared at it for a long while.

And as I stand there, I realise I have never seen her hands tremble when she writes.

I cursed myself when I returned to my chambers and remembered I had not restored the book to the page I found it on. She will know I have touched it. Her sacred little book.

27th day of the 12th moon, 128

The Keep is more quiet than it has been in months, as the year comes to its close. The usual tensions of the Realm remains, as does my father, who is more akin to a walking corpse than a man most days. He can no longer walk up the steps by himself, and my mother does not have the strength to assist. Even Aegon has managed to hold his tongue of late, though I suspect it will not last.

She has been visiting Helaena more often than usual as of late. Seated together in her solar, embroidering, their voices soft and indistinct, like the murmuring of a distant brook. A casual observer might have mistaken them for sisters, though I doubt either would care for the comparison.

“Soft in the head,” Aegon says of Helaena. “Soft in the body,” he says of my wife. He does not mean it as a compliment, though he says it with a grin, as if he expects me to laugh. I do not.

Though I don’t agree, the two do share a certain gentleness. An ethereal charm that I am not able to form into words. They are both easily dismissed, glanced over in a crowd of boisterous and overzealous personalities. Dismissed by those too blind to see. Aegon, is one such fool.

When I approached, Helaena looked up first with her pale eyes that were so familiar, but said nothing. And my wife, to my surprise, greeted me warmly, and seemed surprised to see me. When I spoke to Mother later, she insisted that my wife was a good influence on Helaena. And that she has a calming presence. One she says I should feel grateful for.

I did not tell her that I am.

2nd day of the 1st moon, 129

The belly of King’s Landing celebrated the turn of the new year more so than any within the Keep. The thunder of laughter and dancing seemed to stir the very grounds beneath me. The merriment of the season seemed to warm the chill in the air, and it seems almost everyone has felt its embrace.

She surprised me tonight.

I had not expected her, not at this hour, and certainly not in such a state. Her usual pallor was touched with faint color, her step more certain than it had been in weeks. There was a lightness to her gaze, an energy that I had not seen in some time, and for a moment, I thought her appearance a trick of the dim firelight.

I motioned for her to sit, though she declined, choosing instead to stand near the hearth. For a while, neither of us spoke. 

But then she said she had been thinking about her place here, at the Keep and by my side, as my wife. I waited, unsure of where this conversation might lead. 

“I know I am not the wife you might have wished for,” she continued. “I know what the court says of me, of my frailty, my weakness. And I know what it is to be a man of your station.”

Her meaning became clear, though I did not wish to hear it.

“If you were to take a mistress.”

I did not mean to startle her by interrupting, but I could not bear to hear the rest. Had she no respect for herself? That she would assume I am so restless that I cannot stay one moment without bedding another woman, simply because I am afraid she will break beneath me? What could I say? That I did not desire anyone else? That the thought of betraying her, even in name, made my stomach turn?

And then she asked why. I offered the only truth I could manage.

“I do not know. I only know that I do not wish to. Is that not enough?”

She replied with a simple, but quiet, “it is.”

She did not stay long after that, but she lingered yet in my mind as she does now, writing this entry at the hour of the wolf. Sometimes when I look upon my delicate wife, it feels as if she is other-worldly, plucked from some distant place and planted right here to wither in the sun. She seems less a creature of flesh and blood and more a whisper of something eternal, a soul untethered by time.

There is a stillness about her, a quietness that feels unnatural, as though she is not bound by the same rhythms of life that govern the rest of us. She exists in the space between moments, the breath held just before the candle flickers out.

She is not a woman to me, not entirely. She is something deeper, something I lack the words to name. Perhaps that is why I cannot bring myself to stray, why the thought of betraying her feels like a sin greater than I could bear.

Indeed why not? I could not answer her then, and I doubt I could answer her now.

5th day of the 2nd moon, 129

Am I not a man, but a beast.

She accompanied me this morning to break my fast. Something we now often do to please Mother.

She sat across from me, the light through the windows pebbled across her face, showing how the flush that had decorated her cheeks was starting to fade. A fleeting bloom I did not wish to see vanish.

She picked at the honeyed bread with delicate, little bites, savouring its sweetness. I hardly touched my breakfast. I find it difficult to eat in the morning. But here I sat, too focussed on the golden sheen of the syrup upon her lips.

When she licked the honey from her lips and fingers, I felt a sharp, sudden pain to my chest.

I do not know what possessed me then.

One moment, I was watching her across the table. The next, I was upon her. My hand tangled in her hair, my tongue licking along the seam of her lips to taste the sweetness that lingered there. She gasped against me, I remember her warm breath, startled but pliant.

It was not quick, though it was desperate, as if I could mold her body to mine, as if I could press all I was, all my essence into her fragile frame. My hands gripped her waist, her hips, her thighs, heedless of her delicacy.

I was a creature of need, of raw, unchecked hunger. And her sweet cunt tightening around me was the only thing that could sate it.

Her breath hitched as I fucked her, but said nothing. Her hands held my shoulders, as if to keep herself steady. I did not stop to think, to question.

When it was over, she lay beneath me, her breathing shallow, her hair tousled. And for a moment I could not bring myself to move. I stayed inside her, relishing the warmth of her sweet womanhood, breathed in her scent at her neck, and felt I might weep.

She smelled of vanilla and amber.

What have I done?

I did not dare look at her, but equally she said nothing. 

I fear I have hurt her. Both in body and spirit. And yet, I cannot regret it. Though now I must wonder if she looks upon me with fear, with pity.

6th day of the 2nd moon, 129

I sought her out today.

The guilt has gnawed at me. Sharp and aching. I thought she might be angry. Or worse, afraid.

She was in her chambers, a shawl around her shoulders to stay the chill that seemed to find her easily, a book rested in her lap. When I entered, she looked up, her expression unreadable.

I said I owe her an apology. Which was a difficult enough thing to admit to myself than to her.

She closed her book slowly, and moved to stand. The shawl made her look frail.

“For what?”

For that morning, I replied to her. For taking liberties. For being selfish and only thinking of myself.

She interrupted softly. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

She must have seen the confusion on my face.

“You did not hurt me,” she added. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “I was…surprised, perhaps. That is all.”

Surprised?

She answered that sometimes she felt undesirable. Repulsive. And the words from such a delicate, little thing were like a blade to my heart.

How do I tell her that I desire her more than I can bear?

She told me that she said nothing during the act because she felt it was improper for young ladies to desire such things. To enjoy them. And she had.

I only said that she is not simply a lady.

She is my wife.

She uttered so quietly I thought I might miss it.

“I did not think I could make you feel this way.”

Gods. She can.

She is not what I expected, not what I thought I wanted. But she is what I need, in ways I am only beginning to understand.

4th day of the 3rd moon, 129

Father is dead.

I've repeated the same sentence in my head for hours now, and yet they still feel hollow. Echoing like the toll of a dull bell. Everything has changed.

Though not unexpected, the whispers of his failing health have been constant for years. Even as long as I have been alive, I'd wager. But the finality of it. The truth. The realm will stir into chaos, as Mother had always warned us it would.

They mean to crown Aegon. They mean to gift him what Father had always upheld was Rhaenyra's.

Any whisper of treason is swiftly dealt with. Otto Hightower sees to it. Nobody is safe, it feels.

My wife has been locked in her chambers, barred from leaving as if she were a criminal. I am forbidden to see her, but I am told by the maesters that her condition is too delicate to bear the strain of what is unfolding around us. The stress, they claim, has worsened her already fragile health.

I am furious. The thought of her, alone and frightened, makes my blood boil. She is not a pawn to be hidden away while the realm burns. She is my wife, and I will not be kept from her.

Mother has tried to calm me, speaking of duty and order, of the chaos that would erupt if the truth of Father’s death were known before the plans are set in motion. But I see no order in this, only madness.

She does not understand. How could she? She has never known weakness, never known what it is to live under the constant shadow of her own failing body. My wife has. And now they confine her to her chambers, as though the isolation will preserve her.

Surely they must know it is not the noise of court or the weight of the realm that will break her. It is the solitude.

If they think to keep me from her, they are fools.

I will not allow her to be dragged head first into the mess Mother has made of this.

9th day of the 3rd moon, 129

Aegon is king.

The bells rang to usher in a new era. A new king. Grandfather had organised the crowds to gather in the Dragonpit, to witness the moment the conqueror’s crown was placed upon my brother's brow, and Blackfyre thrust into his grip.

For all his faults, Aegon is no stranger to spectacle. He held our great ancestral sword aloft, and the smallfolk roared their approval, blissfully ignorant of the blood that stains this crown and the chaos that will surely follow.

I stood beside Helaena. She was dreamy as usual, and barely looked in her husband's direction. She knew as well as I, that it all stank of desperation.

My wife attended, though she was likely too unwell to. It wasn't difficult to guess she had been spoken to by Grandfather, instructed what to do to appear as if she was supportive of this farce. But still, she insisted on standing by my side.

She had applied rouge to her cheeks in an effort to mask her pallor, but it did little to fool anyone. Her face was thin, her movements careful.

The smallfolk noticed. I saw the way they whispered to one another when their eyes fell upon her. They are a superstitious lot, always quick to see omens where there are none. A sickly wife at the hasty coronation of a king.

Her hands trembled as she gripped mine, her strength waning with each passing moment. I whispered to her that she should sit, but she shook her head, her resolve unbroken despite the frailty of her body.

And then the ground shook.

Meleys burst forth, the Queen-Who-Never-Was seated at her neck. And the smallfolk that were not stuck beneath her claws scattered like leaves in the wind. My wife’s knees buckled, her strength finally giving way. I caught her before she could fall, my arm wrapping around her waist as I shielded her from the chaos. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her fingers clutching at my sleeve.

But Meleys did not strike. Nor did Rhaenys speak.

I did not release her until the crowd began to stir again, until the danger had passed. Even then, I could feel her trembling against me, her breath shallow and uneven.

My house has been fractured. Our futures uncertain.

And all I can think of is her pale face, her trembling lips, as she said. “Are you alright?”

I could have laughed if I were not so angry.

12th day of the 3rd moon, 129

The maesters still hover over her, though I have been here at her bedside since the coronation.

She is more fragile than I remember, her breath shallow, her skin too pale beneath the warmth of the fire. Her gaze follows me everywhere, as if afraid I might vanish. Perhaps she sees me as fleeting too. 

Perhaps she fears that I might not return.

I did not think I would be the person she would cling to. And at times I do not know how to feel about it. She has not changed, and yet I used to look upon her with contempt and irritation.

Could it be that I have changed?

I must go to Storm’s End soon.

The Baratheons are key to ensuring an alliance, to strengthen my family's claim to the throne by rallying the great houses of Westeros to our cause. I resent Aegon's rule, yes, but I do not wish to see my whore sister on the throne even more so.

Should that happen, my wife would be in danger as well.

It is Daeron who I must barter a marriage for. It is a necessary journey, one I cannot avoid, no matter how much my heart aches at the thought of leaving her.

She knows this. She knows my duty to the family, to the crown, and yet when I spoke of it, a shadow crossed her face. Her lips parted as though she wished to speak, but she remained silent. The fear in her eyes, however, was enough.

“Will you come back to me?” she asked me.

She is afraid. She fears for my safety, just as I fear for hers. And equally, though she does not speak it, she resents that I have been dragged into this cause.

I promised her I would return.

When I kissed her before I left, I did not want to let go. Her hand gripped mine as though she might shatter with the slightest breeze. She did not speak again, but I saw the unshed tears in her eyes, and it nearly undid me.

I do not wish to leave.

I do not wish to leave her.

- - - - - -

I am living in a nightmare.

She sleeps as I write this. So deeply I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure she is not stood right there.

The journey from Storm's End to Kings Landing was a blur. And when I returned and dismounted Vhagar, I was soaked to the bone from rain. I did not stop to speak to Mother. Could not bear to.

I had not meant for it to happen. But what does intent matter now? The boy is dead.

Lucerys Velaryon is dead.

His body fell from the skies, his dragon broken and bloody. And I just watched. Fear gnaws at me, but not for myself, but what this means for my family and all those that live under my protection. Rhaenyra will want vengeance for this.

My mother, grandfather, they will want for me to claim I wanted this, just so they might shift their judgement onto me instead. Claim that I began this war and not their scheming. They will whisper, I know they will, that this was revenge for the boyish quarrel that left me half-blinded.

And such has ended in his death.

It is not so simple. I know what I have done. I know what they will call me. A kinslayer. A monster. And worse, I fear that she, my wife, will see it too.

When I returned to our chambers, she was sat in a nest made of pillows, propped up to avoid strain. Hearing my arrival, she sat up straighter, though she looked weak, and shakily got to her feet despite my initial protests.

Her eyes still looked upon me with softness, as if I were deserving. And I was unprepared for her reaction. She saw me, soaked and trembling but did not speak. Did not ask what had happened, though she could see some turmoil in me.

Her hands, small and trembling, undressed me without rush. Stripping me of not only my clothes but the weight that slumped my shoulders. She did not judge, did not speak of what was so plainly written across my weathered face.

Her silence was a gift. One I did not deserve.

And yet I leaned into her touch. It was so warm against my skin. I even allowed her to remove the leather over my stolen eye. Something I rarely do in her presence.

I was bare, laying beside her, shaking. And she shed her clothes so that we might embrace without the confines of fabric. Her hands ran through my hair, untangling the salty strands delicately with all the patience in the realm.

“I killed him.”

I whispered it into the dark, without seeing her face.

“Lucerys. I killed him.”

She did not ask why or how. She slid closer, her tender breasts against my back, and ran her hands down my arm.

I told her everything. What I said. Threatened. How I flew after him in the storm. Vhagar.

Her voice in response had no anger. Only sadness.

“You returned to me. That is all that matters.”

12th day of the 4th moon, 129

I went to her chambers tonight as if the Gods had paved the path for me. I could not summon the strength to summon her to mine. Not after what I have done.

She did not question the shadows under my eyes. She simply welcomed me as she always does, with a tenderness I do not deserve.

When our bodies came together it was a communion of two souls. Deliberate. Not a conquest in the least. She is the only thing anchoring me to this world. And each scrape of her fingernails against my back felt heavenly. Kissing me softly. Tracing the scars that mark my body with the same hands that never tremble in my presence. Even now, when I feel I am beyond forgiveness. 

For a night, I did not feel like a kinslayer.

14th day of the 4th moon, 129

I was not there.

I was not there. And I should have been.

I was with her instead. And in my place, it was Helaena’s chambers they reached. Their names I forget, but they were grotesque as if from some old wives’ tale. I cannot stomach to imagine their faces in my mind.

My nephew is gone. They made my sister, my blood, point him out, as if he were meats fetching a good price at the slaughter. If I had been there, in my chambers, as I was supposed to be, would I have been able to stop this? Could I have spared my sister the sight of her son’s blood soaking the stone floors?

I cannot think of it without bile rising in my throat.

The court is ablaze with questions, panic rippling through every corner of the Keep.

Where were the guards? How could this have happened?

I, too, demand answers. For all her faults, I never believed Rhaenyra capable of such an act, sending assassins into the heart of the Keep to put Helaena, of all people, in danger. But this? This cruelty? She has proven herself to have even less humanity than I once dared to credit her.

Helaena has not spoken and not emerged since. I do not know if she ever will. 

I cannot protect my family, even in my own home. Though my wife reassures me, I feel like a kinslayer twice over. Even once I returned to her bed after the commotion had died down and Aegon too, she reached for me, and I let her. Her hands were frail, but somehow steady when they touched me. Like tiny little stems curling into my blood. Growing more and more. Like a gentle annihilation of the man I think I am.

She wept for the child. For Helaena, who would never again hold her son.

And I wept with her.

25th day of the 4th moon, 129

The boy was paraded through the streets, wrapped in silks and embroidered fabrics. My mother and Helanea followed, and any level-minded person would guess that this is desperation. Something I would not forgive grandfather for if he forced such a thing onto me and my wife, if we had a child of our own.

Aegon has ordered the ratcatchers put to death, every one of them, as if blood could somehow wash away blood. I doubt it will ease his conscience, if he has one left. He claims it is vengeance, justice. It is anger. It is shame. It is fear, thinly disguised.

At the council, I learned that Aegon had dismissed my grandfather as Hand. His replacement? Ser Criston Cole. A decision as reckless as it is insulting. 

Mother’s face said what the rest of us could not. She sat in silence, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her lips pressed into a thin line. I said nothing either, though the weight of her displeasure mirrored my own. Criston may wield a sword with skill, but a Hand must have wit and reason. He has neither.

I know I hold little love in the eyes of my own mother now anyway. She looks upon me like I am a monster, as if I have been my whole life. As if this is not what she has made of me.

I returned to my wife afterwards. We rarely speak now, though her presence is a balm I cannot name. The illness has caught her chest again, I can hear it in her breath. She told me to keep my distance, fearing I will catch it, as if I care for such trivial things.

I stayed regardless, seated in the chair by her bed as the fire burned low. She did not scold me for it. She simply turned her head to watch me, her eyes soft, almost apologetic. I reached for her hand, and she let me take it. I can see the fear of what is to come weighs heavy on her. 

This quiet between us. Is this feeling what those countless ballads harp on about? Could this marriage, born of resentment and difficulty, become love?

2nd day of the 6th moon, 129

Aegon’s hold on this war is akin to his grip on a cup of wine at the hour of the wolf. Slippery, at best. He sits in council and speaks of Harrenhal with such conviction, as though Criston Cole marching there will be anything more than foolishness. Daemon holds that cursed ruin, and we all know what awaits Criston if he tries to pry it from him. Yet Aegon seems blind to reason, drunk on his desire to pull victory from thin air.

I suggest a different course. Rook’s Rest. But he will not see reason. And of course it was met with hesitation. Aegon’s indecision is a rot that will take him black, and Mother’s silence does nothing to stay it. 

They all think me hungry for blood and battle. Aemond One-Eye. 

There is a part of me that longs to prove myself. To be remembered for something other than the boy who lost his eye or the prince who killed his nephew. My wife knows an Aemond the realm does not. The one that sits beside her as they lays coughing at night. She sees a man, a good one perhaps. Whereas the court merely whisper of me as if I am a dark shadow.

The realm will never know the man my wife sees. There is a power in them seeing only what I allow, what I need them to know. Strength. Fire. 

Sometimes, I wonder if she mourns the parts of me that the world will never have.

She listens to me speak of my plans, hands clasped, seeing the fractures in her husband, the places where pride and vengeance run too deep to cut out. I wonder if she pities me for it. If she doesn’t, perhaps she should.

13th day of the 6th moon, 129

Rook’s Rest still burns, I'd wager. Though it has been several days since the battle. The wind still whips at me, I feel, as I watch Meleys hurtle towards the earth. Her dragonrider still pitched to her back.

Aegon does not relish in his victory. He lays near death, every breath a struggle. Not dissimilar to how I have seen my wife oftentimes.

I returned to her chambers as soon as I was able. The Keep feels hollow these days, and there I might find peace, where none exists inside me.

She looks frailer than she did when I left, though she insists otherwise. The maesters prattle about her condition, and I find myself snapping at them more than I ought. They are failing her. Everyone is failing her. Even me.

When she tried to rise from bed to greet me, I could not stop myself, I barked at her to stay put, the words sharper than I intended.  

I hate myself for it. But the thought of her straining herself, of her fragile body bending beneath the weight of this cursed war...it twists something in me, something I cannot name.

She is mine. My wife. My delicate flower. The one thing in this accursed world that is still soft, still untouched by the poison of the crown and the war.

I will not lose her.

She, of course, asked what had happened. Having heard the unfortunate nature of the king’s condition. Having heard the whispers. I said it was recklessness. Incompetence. But she has always been perceptive. 

She sees the darkness in me. The flicker of doubt that darkens her beautiful eyes, one she does not dare speak aloud.

But I cannot speak to her of the shadow that is cast over my heart. So instead, I spared hers, and told insisted it was Aegon's folly that lead to his downfall. Nothing more.

She nodded. But her gaze lingered on me. Searching. I know she does not believe me.

She reached for my hand, and I held hers too tightly. She winced. 

I watch her even now, as she sleeps, her breath too shallow for my liking, her form too still beneath the furs. My mind races with thoughts I cannot quiet. What if she never sees me return again? What if I leave and come back to find her gone?

I will not let it happen.

19th day of the 6th moon, 129

The council have chosen me as their Regent. Me, over Mother. It is as it should be. For all her wisdom, her place is not there. Her gentle sex does not suit the burden of governance, no matter how much she believes otherwise. She clings too tightly to something she herself has denied Rhaenyra, and I will not stand idly by and listen to her hypocrisy.

The council at least know my worth. 

Already I have begun to shape the crumbling realm back to stability. The first act began with Mother, relegating her to duties befitting of a Dowager Queen, and one she did not take lightly. It is not cruelty. Necessary. There is no place for soft murmurings of mercy at my council. She will understand in time.

The work is endless. The weight immeasurable, but one I wear with pride. I have longed for this. To show I am not weak, but formidable, with no time for distraction. 

The realm needs me now more than ever.

28th day of the 6th moon, 129

Regency suits me well. It is a shame I was not born first.

The first real edict was to close the city gates, to forbid people from leaving and also to avoid our enemies sneaking past our fragile lines. King’s Landing must be fortified, protected from the vipers who would see us undone. Let the smallfolk whisper and grumble, their safety is ensured only because I am willing to make the hard choices.

Trade has slowed, of course, but I care little for the merchants’ squawking. Better that they lose their coin than lose their lives when Rhaenyra’s forces march upon us.

Though the power is intoxicating it is not without its burdens. I see the faces of the council as they defer to me, the uncertainty that flickers behind their eyes. They doubt my youth, my ability to lead, but they dare not say it aloud. 

There are moments, fleeting though they are, when I wonder if I have already given too much of myself to this war. But I cannot dwell on such thoughts. The realm does not wait for doubt, and neither shall I.

7th day of the 7th moon, 129

I had nearly forgotten her.

The council chamber was quiet when she appeared, the hour so late that even the most loyal attendants had taken their leave. I sat, pouring over papers and maps, looking up as she stood at the doors draped in translucent fabric, her fragile frame looking almost ghostly.

She had come all the way from her chambers, weak as she is, just to see me.

For a moment, I was struck dumb, caught between guilt and irritation. I had not sought her out in days, too consumed by the weight of my duties.

I asked her, sharper than I intended, what she was doing here and that she should be resting. And she did not flinch, but I could see her eyes flicker downwards.

“I had to see you.”

It was as if she wanted to see if I still existed. And that I was not some otherworldly vision, told only through whispers and rumours. For she had not seen me in near a fortnight. Her voice was so soft that it struck a chord I did not need for it to resonate.

I could not say anything more than the realm expects more of me now. The demands on my shoulders. I cannot spare a moment.

Her voice strained. “I had to see you because otherwise I scarcely know my husband lives and breathes.”

Her words erupted guilt and irritation alike. Buried beneath a thin, black veil I have carefully fabricated.

I could only insist I do all this for her. To keep her safe.

“How is it for me, Aemond? All I see in you is this desire for power. You speak of the realm, of me, but this is just sheer ambition, and you are too blind to see what it is doing to you. And I will not be your excuse for how tightly you cling to what you seek.”

I snapped and said how could she know. She has not ruled and never will. She does not understand the burden I bear.

“Perhaps I don't understand. But I know the man I married, the one I grew to love. And all I see is him slipping away.”

Gods, she sounded so wounded I was not sure whether to resent it or pity it.

The man she grew to love.

I was rendered so shocked I could not say anything. Even when her eyes begged for a response. And she turned to leave, her steps weak and faltering with every second. And I did not help her.

I did not help her.

I cannot shake the look on her face. 

I know I should go to her, but I cannot. Her weakness, her frailty, I am afraid it will take me down with it.

And the realm cannot afford more weakness from the crown.

24th day of the 7th moon, 129

Everything is unravelling.

Rhaenyra has thrown everything she has at us, now even her bastards ride dragons. It is a cruel mockery of what we were meant to be. Blood of the dragon, sullied by lowborn filth. And Helaena, sweet and broken, refuses to aid us. Her grief holds her captive, and I cannot rouse her from it. I need her dragon, but she will not hear me.

Today was unbearable.

The council drags their feet and the walls close in. The smallfolk riot in the streets from hunger, one Rhaenyra herself has caused but that they seem to forget.

I came back to my chambers after the council adjourned, weary and enraged. And there, on my desk, I found them. Snapdragons. Flowers of bold pinks and oranges, fierce and alive, their edges tinged with red like the tips of dragonfire.

She has been here.

There was no note. No explanation. The flowers spoke what she did not.

It is a reminder of who I am, or rather the man I should be. The man she loves, not the beast I fear I am becoming.

I stood there for what felt like an age, staring at the blooms as if they might speak to me. In that moment, I made my decision. I must go to Harrenhal soon, to face Daemon, but I will not leave without seeing her first. Without making amends.

When I went to her chambers, there were no maesters, but her fever was heightened, and so she slept with sheer clothing and no bedsheets. She looked like a nymph, laid there, her breasts visible through the fabric and flowers at each bedside.

Like she didn't belong in the confines of the Keep. She belonged out there, amongst the trees and rivers, to exist in breath and wind.

She looked up, rose from her gentle slumber, and looked at me. Her eyes soft and searching.

I kissed her and she did not pull away. She let me touch her, hold her, gasped as I slid her nightgown up her hips and nipped at her thighs to taste the sweet nectar that poured from her.

She was warm and heady, an intoxicating mix of salt and sweetness, like honey warmed by the sun. I drank from her as if parched, savoring the way she trembled beneath me, the way her body seemed to bloom under my touch.

Her breath hitched as I lavished her with my tongue, her fingers desperate as her nailed pulled pleasantly at my hair. Each sound she made was a victory, each shiver a testament to the power she held over me. For all my strength, all my fury, I was undone by her, reduced to this, worshiping at the altar of her body.

Even as she cried out I could not stop. And when it became too much, I rose, her flavour still clinging to my lips. And we coupled slowly, tenderly, for hours. Devouring her as if by doing so, I could take some of her kindness, and bathe me clean of the darkness that lingers within.

She is no fool.

“My love. Do not make love to me as if I will never see you again.”

I could not answer her. She knows I must go. To Harrenhal. Now on my own, if nobody else will assist me.

I felt her fingers on my cheek.

“If you cannot promise me that. Promise me this. Write to me. Wherever you are. Whatever you do.”

I could not find it in my heart to deny her such a simple thing. I will send her my words, if I cannot send my body, soul and love.

I realised right there, her small body spent in my arms how many weeks, months even, I had spent unappreciative of the flutter she always gave me. The unending kindness she would offer. The truth, even when I didn't want it.

I had forgotten to treat her with tenderness.

1st day of the 9th moon, 129

Harrenhal is mine.

The stronghold of the Strongs fell with little resistance. The castle itself, vast and cold, looms like a beast over the land, its ruins whispering of past glories and darker tragedies. House Strong is no more. I have seen to that myself.

Save for one.

Alys Rivers remains. She claimed she had visions of my coming, of my victory, and of greater things yet to unfold. She spoke in riddles, her eyes fixed on me as though she could see into my soul.

Her words, her presence, are tempting in their way. Alys Rivers is a beautiful woman, older than I expected, with a certain allure born of her confidence and mystery. She has made no secret of her willingness to warm my bed, to offer herself to me in exchange for her life.

But I did not take her. I will not.

I told her plainly that she would live for now because her visions may serve a purpose. Nothing more. Let her think she has some measure of power over me if it keeps her pliant and useful. Yet even as I write this, I know I should send her to the sword, for the danger she represents.

My wife would see it how it is. Desperation.

I have not written to her yet. Not my wife. Not the only soul who would calm the storm within me.

I will tomorrow.

For tonight, the shadows of Harrenhal linger too heavily, and the blood on my hands feels too fresh.

17th day of the 11th moon, 129

Now I know why Daemon left this wretched place behind.

Harrenhal is not a castle, it is a carcass. Its halls are hollow, its walls crumbling, and its very air feels like a curse pressing down on my chest. The fires that claimed this ruin have never truly died. They linger in the stones, in the bones of the dead, whispering their stories to anyone who dares to listen.

And I am here now, breathing it in. I thought it would feel like a triumph, taking Harrenhal, but it is not.

I have not slept well since my arrival. And when I do, the dreams come. Muddled and confusing. Vivid and cruel things that weave consciousness into sleep.

Last night, I dreamt of her.

She was in her chambers in bed, sickly, her skin pale and translucent. The maesters swarm her like vultures for flesh, muttering useless words and hovering instead of healing. Her eyes found me, tired and hooded, and it was not a look of blame or fear, but something that still reminded me I am not the man she needed me to be.

In her eyes I saw my regrets. Every harsh word I spoke. Every moment I turned away. Every time I let ambition and anger drown out what little light we had kindled between us.

I tried to reach for her in the dream, but the distance was too great. I called her name, but she did not answer. And when I woke, my throat was raw, as if I had truly been shouting in my sleep.

In another dream, I was between her milky thighs, lapping at her sweet cunt like I had been starved of it for years. She moaned so sweetly as she always did. And when she clawed at my scalp to pull me closer to her it felt different. She was stronger. Less tender.

And when I looked up, her nectar glazing my face, I felt my heart grow cold and hollow. Her skin was pale, yes, but her hair darkened into something akin to raven feathers, her eyes sunk back slightly, cheekbones sharpened. And the soft, lightly colour there morphed into stark emeralds, lips red and quirked upwards.

Perhaps Harrenhal is cursed. Perhaps it draws out the darkest thoughts, the deepest fears, and forces them to the surface. Or perhaps it is only me. Perhaps I am cursed.

I must write to her. She is my tether, the only thing that keeps me from being swallowed whole by the darkness here. Tomorrow, I will write. Tonight, I will try to sleep and hope the dreams do not return.

Dearest Wife,

I write to you from the cold halls of Harrenhal, a place that holds no warmth, no life. Not like your chambers do. The days here stretch long, the nights longer still. It is a place of ash and shadow, where even the air feels heavy. And yet, amidst the ruin, I found something unexpected, a winter rose, growing stubbornly in the cracks of stone.

I have enclosed it with this letter. It is small, fragile, but it persists. A reminder, perhaps, that beauty can be found even in the bleakest places. I thought of you when I saw it. Handle it gently, as you always do.

How do you fare, my love? I pray the maesters have been attentive, and that the chill has not worsened your condition. I think of you often, though I fear my words fail to capture how much. I see you in every quiet moment, in every breath of wind. You linger in my thoughts as if you are a part of me, inseparable and eternal.

I do not wish to burden you with the trials of this place, nor the weight of my duties. But know that I am well, and I will return to you as soon as I am able. Until then, take care of yourself, for I cannot bear the thought of you suffering in my absence.

Yours Always,

Aemond

4th day of the 2nd moon, 130

Alys spoke of visions today.

She said she could see two dragons coming together, sharing the same fate above the great God's Eye. Then my wife, she saw our reunion, my wife's hair lit as if from the sun of the Seven Heavens. She sounded so certain, as if recounting events that had already transpired. She was so confident, I almost believed her.

Almost.

She sees so much, so she claims. Watching the flames dance along her eyes is, in itself, invigorating to watch. Her gentle mutterings are welcome sometimes in the quiet, hollow hallways of Harrenhal. They linger, pulling on the threads of my mind as if I am to her whim.

She moves through this great castle as if she has been a ghost here for generations. Her gaze does not cower before me as many others do, but she stands close. Perhaps sometimes, too close. And I think myself weak for not dismissing her.

She is a woman who knows the route to survival, and I cannot fault her for that.

They are brief, fleeting. The times where I wonder if she offers herself for something more than just survival. When she hands me a raven, her touch lingers longer than it should. 

I do not know what Alys Rivers wants from me, nor do I care to ask.

I have not written to my wife of her. How could I? How do I explain this shadow in my midst, this woman who speaks of futures I do not wish to see? I tell myself it is unnecessary, that Alys is nothing more than a tool, a means to an end.

And yet, I wonder if I am lying to myself.

Daemon is coming. That much I believe. Whether Alys’s visions are truth or falsehood, the outcome remains the same. We are on a path that cannot be turned aside.

When the time comes, I will be ready.

My Dearest Husband,

Your letter reached me today, and I must confess, I wept to see the winter rose you sent. Such a small and delicate thing, so rare. I pressed it into my own book, so it may keep company with my other treasures. Thank you, my love.

I have pressed a snapdragon into these pages also. Last spring, you commented that the colour of their petals reminded you of a dragon mid-roar, and I wished to remind you of simpler times, before the world felt so uncertain.

I have soaked these papers in the oils I apply to my hair and skin. Perhaps a silly indulgence to some, but I thought perhaps it might bring you some comfort, a memory of home in the coldness of that dreadful castle.

The maesters say the chill has caught my chest, though it has for many here. You must not worry, I assure you it is nothing more than the season’s cruel bite. I have taken my draughts and kept warm as you would wish me to, though the days feel colder without you here to hold me.

I hope this letter finds you well. Write to me when you can, even if it is but a few lines. Your words are a light in these dark times, and I cling to them more than I dare admit.

I hope you campaigns in the Riverlands fare well. Remember you are my husband first, not a shadow of war or duty. Please do not forget or lose grip on the man I fell in love with.

Yours Forever,

Your Loving Wife

- - - - 130

The quill trembles in my hand as I write. Ink smears before I can make sense of my thoughts. This entry will be illegible by morning, I am certain. It makes no sense— how could it? Dreams are madness.

Alys.

Alys.

Her belly was swollen, a grotesque curve rounded with child, one of my blood. Not hers. Not hers! I could not look at her without feeling bile in my throat, the heat of shame.

And then my wife.

My wife!

She was there, crumpling to the ground, her grief splitting the air like a storm. Her screams. Gods, her screams. I have never heard her voice raised in such a way, never seen her face contorted with such anguish.

I wanted to go to her, to explain, but I could not move. My feet were rooted, and the air was thick, choking me. She looked at me, her eyes wide with betrayal, and I felt myself drowning in them. No. Not in them.

In water.

My lungs burned. My limbs thrashed. The surface was a distant shimmer, unreachable. I could hear her still, even beneath the water, her screams warped and muffled, but no less devastating.

I woke gasping, clawing at the air as if I could still feel the water pulling me under.

What does it mean? What does it mean?

Harrenhal speaks as if it has a clawing, fearsome mouth.

Kinslayer. Usurper. Liar. Monster.

I am all and none. All and none.

The water, surely it does not drown me, it must cleanse me.

But it cannot. Nothing can. Nothing will.

My Dearest Aemond,

I write to you from my bed, as I have found myself unable to rise for much of late. The maesters are vigilant, though they assure me there is no cause for alarm and that I should not tire myself by writing. They say it is only the season and my own weakness conspiring against me. I do not tell them how I feel the cold seep deeper with each passing day, but I tell you, my husband, because I know you will not dismiss my words so lightly.

News of the battle at the Lakeshore has reached even here. The servants whisper of it, though I hear only fragments. There seems to be a changing of guards here at the Keep, but I do not leave my chambers, so I cannot see why. Are you well? Please tell me you are. It has been too long since I last heard from you, and I cannot help but worry. You are so far away, in such a dangerous place, and the weight of it lies heavy upon my chest.

I would not ask this of you if I thought it selfish, but please, write to me. Even a single line would be enough to still my restless heart.

Take care of yourself, my love. Remember that you are not alone in this, no matter how distant we may seem. You are mine, as I am yours, and nothing, not war, not duty, not even death, can change that.

All My Love,

Your Wife

My Loving Husband,

Why have you not written? Why do you leave me in this silence? The days are long without word from you, and the nights are even longer. I wait, and I wonder, and I worry. Is it so hard to take up your quill? Is it so hard to tell me that you are well?

Please, my love, do not let this silence stretch any longer. Tell me you are safe. Tell me you are whole. Tell me anything, for I am desperate for the sound of your voice, even if it must come to me through ink and paper.

Do you think of me, Aemond? Do you think of the nights we spent in each other’s arms? Do you think of the flowers I left for you, the words I whispered when the world felt less cruel? I hope you do. I hope you remember.

I have tried to be strong, for you, for us, but I am alas not as much as you. Please, my love, do not leave me to this silence any longer. Write to me. Ease my heart. I apologise for my heavy emotions, the ink smudges because of my shaky hands, and they are not as steady as they once were. Do not think poorly of me for it.

I fear I am beginning to lose my sense of time. Did I already tell you the maesters say I will recover? Forgive me if I repeat myself. My thoughts seem to wander, but they always find their way back to you.

I love you, Aemond. It hurts more than breathing. Please let me hear from you.

Yours, always and forever.

Your Loyal Wife

My Beloved Wife,

I read every stroke of your ink like a blade to my chest, not because they wound me so, but because I imagine your voice. Reminding me what I have left behind.

Do you know, my love, how much I miss you? How much I miss the feel of your hands on me, grounding me when the storms inside threaten to consume me?

Do not lose hope, for I cling to it still. If you cannot feel my arms around you, know that my soul reaches for you, across all the miles that separate us. Hold fast, my love, until I can come back to you.

Do not think poorly of your emotions, nor of your trembling hands. They have always been steady enough to hold me, to steady my own restless soul.

I do not deserve you, my delicate flower. But I am yours, wholly and utterly. I will write to you again soon, I swear it. I will not leave you in silence again.

Please, take heart, as I try to do. Remember that I love you, more than I have ever been able to say.

Yours, now and always,

Aemond

My Dearest, dearest Aemond,

Do you remember our first days as husband and wife? How cold you seemed, how distant? I used to think you disliked me, perhaps even resented me for my frailty. I was so small and scared then, unsure of my place in your life, in your heart.

But I see now what I could not see then. You are a man of storms, my love, and I was too weak to weather them. Yet, even storms have their moments of calm, and it was in those moments I found the man I have come to love more than life itself.

I do not know if this letter reaches you, nor if I have the strength to write another. But I need you to know, that I am wholly, and truly, yours. Now and always.

Please, remember me kindly.

Forever,

Your Loving Wife

My love,

It has been too long since I last wrote to you. For that I am sorry. I did not mean to worry you.

Truthfully I have left Harrenhal behind, trawling the Riverlands to those loyal to my sister still, even now. I head towards a confrontation I cannot avoid. Daemon wants his fight, and as much as I would like to be by your side, this challenge cannot be ignored. He is a fool if he thinks he can stand against me, but I must prove it nonetheless.

Once that is done, I swear to you, I will return to your side. This madness, this war, it has taken too much from us both. I long for the peace of your presence, the quiet of our chambers, where only you and I exist in our own world.

I do not know what awaits me when I return. I do not know what has become of you, though I hope you are well. Please know that, despite the distance and the bloodshed, you are always in my heart.

I will write again as soon as I can. Stay strong, my love. Wait for me.

I am yours,

Aemond

My love,

I await your reply like a lovesick child.

I fear the worst with each passing day, each hour that I do not hear your voice. Have I lost you? Is the cold consuming you, or have you fallen into silence for some other reason I cannot fathom? Please, I beg of you, send me word. Let me know that you are still waiting for me.

I have prepared myself to face Daemon, though I care little for the confrontation. His challenge has become a matter of necessity, but I cannot shake the thought of you, fragile and alone, while I am here, so far away. I would rather be by your side, taking care of you, than facing that traitor. But I have no choice now.

I am desperate, my love. A few lines in your gentle hand would give me the strength of a thousand men. Without you, what am I but a man trawling this desolate, darkened land, lost forever without your light to guide my way.

Please do write. My cherished flower.

Aemond

My darling wife,

I woke to a raven today. The words written within it seemed impossible, a cruelty that no man should have to face. It tells me of your passing, of your death.

But I refuse to believe it. I cannot.

You are not gone. I would have felt you, felt your soul leave this realm. I would have felt the Stranger take you from me, and yet, there is only the emptiness. The cold distance that stretches between us, yes, but not your absence. Not truly.

Were such a thing to happen, my love, I would have felt a pain so deep in my chest, I would have cried out. I would have howled until my throat bled. You are too vital to me for your death to be a mere whisper in the wind. No, this cannot be real.

Do not let the maesters fill my mind with their lies. Do not weaken the fragile hope I cling to, the only thread keeping me tethered to this world. Please, I beg of you, let me hold onto the belief that you are still waiting for me. That when I return, I will find you where you belong, by my side.

I will nourish you, body and soul, as I should have from the very beginning. For I do not believe that the distance, the war, the bloodshed, it has not been enough to sever the bond we share. When I come to you, I will fix what I have broken in myself, and I will fix what has withered between us.

This war has broken me, my love. I have witnessed too much, done too much, and it has hollowed me out in ways I cannot even express. But you, you always knew how to heal. Your touch, gentle, sure could mend what no one else could. And so, I beg you, when I return, lay your hands upon me. 

Fix me. 

Make me whole again. It has been so long since I have felt so. Without your touch, your voice.

I will come for you.

Forever Yours,

Aemond 

21st day of the 5th moon, 130

The winds howl so loudly now. 

They sing on the eve of what may be my last. Daemon is here and he waits for me. One of us must fall, though I have reassured my wife that it shall not be me.

I write this now because I do not know if I will have another chance. If the Stranger comes for me, I will not meet him with words left unsaid.

To my mother. You were the first to see me, even before I knew myself. When I was a boy without a dragon, I ran to you, tears staining my face, and you held me as though that could mend what I lacked. The day I lost my eye, the boy you nurtured was forced to become a man. A bitter man. Perhaps I lost more than my eye that day. Perhaps I lost the better parts of myself. If I am to die tomorrow, know that I never blamed you for showing your love to me the way you did, and though I may not have shown it, I am grateful.

My sister. Sweet sister, I am sorry. Sorry for your grief, sorry for your pain, sorry for all the ways I could not protect you from this cruel world. You deserved peace, and all you have been given is sorrow. I hope that, in another life, I might have been a better brother to you. I hope you will forgive me for failing you.

Aegon. Brother, I have resented you for much of my life. Perhaps it was jealousy, perhaps it was anger, perhaps it was something I will never fully understand. But you are my brother, my blood, and for all our differences, I have never wished you harm. Not truly. If I do not return, lead this realm as you see fit, but know that power is a fleeting thing. Do not let it consume you as it has consumed me.

To my wife, my delicate flower, if you ever read this: forgive me. Forgive the times I was cold, the times I let my anger and pride obscure my love for you. Forgive my silence, my absences, my failures to be the husband you deserved.

I see you even now, though miles lie between us. I see your smile, rare but radiant. I hear your voice, soft but sure. I feel your touch, delicate but anchoring. You made me feel whole, even when I thought I was nothing but a shattered thing.

Daemon may take my life tomorrow, but he cannot take what I carry with me, the memory of you, the warmth of you, the love you gave me even when I did not deserve it. That is mine, and mine alone.

If the Stranger does not take me, I will come back to you. I will hold you, care for you, and let the world crumble as long as I have you. But if I do not return, know this. 

I loved you. 

With all that I am, with all that I ever was, I loved you.

The winds howl louder now. Perhaps it is time I let them carry me. And if it is to be so, take me to her.

[zynwarrior]

How to NOT binge:

(From someone whose 2 months binge free)

Info for restricting:

If you’re prone to binging after fasts. Then don’t fast.

You’d rather set a cal limit for yourself at either 700-900 for high res and 1000-1200 for low res.

By binging after fasts you undo all the work you put in and it makes you feel worse than eating in restriction.

Another point I’d like to make is that it is MUCH better to maintain than gain.

Fasting may show you faster results but there’s no point if you know you’re the type to binge and undo all that progress.

Low cal foods for restriction (that actually taste good):

Tuna

Chicken breasts *seasoning allowed, no sauce, unnecessary calories.

Whole grain pasta

Air fried sweet potatoes (my favorite)

Dark chocolate (for those of you with a sweet tooth like me)

FRUITS (blueberries, peaches, strawberries, kiwi are the best)

Zero cal drinks (flavoured water, sodas, energy drinks- I recommend something fizzy to bloat you because yes it will make you a bit queesy but it’s better than being hungry and regretting eating. I know feeling bloated feels disgusting but keep in mind that it’s extremely low cal and there is no way you are going to gain)

Use stevia or low cal sweeteners

Nutmilk over regular milk.

If you don’t have access to an air fryer, use coconut oil instead of olive or sunflower oil. Extremely low cal and food tastes exactly the same with lots more of health benefits.

Info for fasting;

Zero cal drinks, water, gum, zyns/nic pouches- they’re your new best friend.

No more than 24- 48hours if you end up binging after long fasts (48+ hours). Remember you are still not eating for a whole day, it is perfectly fine to be hungry. What’s important is that you control it. You’d rather eat low cal than binge on something like fast food.

Don’t do hectic workouts. You need energy to complete day to day activities and if you spend what little energy you have on working out your body will crave something to feed off of. Go on a long walk instead or use a treadmill.

Do calming yoga or Pilates. I recommend finding those on YouTube for beginners as it’s much less intense but still keeps you moving.

General tips for restriction:

Chew food slowly

If you overeat and want to purge do not brush your teeth after, it is far too harsh. Use mouthwash or mints. Wait 30 mins to brush again.

Count every cal. Keep a memo or notepad and write down exactly what you’ve eaten

Do not eat fast foods or processed unhealthy snacks just because they fit into your limit. Ultra-processed foods are made to keep you wanting more. You know that feeling when you just can’t put that packet of chips down? That’s the oil and salt which has been perfectly designed to keep you wanting it.

Keep busy. The busier you are the less time you have to eat MORE. Pick up a new hobby, deep clean, learn a new language or simply sleep it off.

General tips for fasting :

Whoever said don’t plan your meals is wrong. You need structure if you want to succeed. You cannot leave anything up to chance as if you don’t know what to eat, you eat everything.

When breaking a fast, the most important things are protein and fibre. Have 60/40 ratio of protein and fibre. 60% protein 40% fibre. It’s important to eat protein after a fast to regain strength and to maintain your hair and nails. Fibre to give you essential vitamins and help bowel movements.

As I said in my previous posts. DRINK YOUR WATER. In my experience drinking a DEATHLY amount of water makes me not even crave food.

Smoking or vaping (just don’t start if you don’t already but use your nic addiction as a tool/ not promoting)

That’s it! Hope you enjoyed and found this helpful<3

[opbackgrounds]

The Romanticism of One Piece VII: The Sea, and Conclusion

AO3 Part I Part VI

“Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.” —Herman Melville

There is nothing more Romantic than to yearn for the sea. In his book Image of the Sea: Oceanic Consciousness in the Romantic Century, Howard Isham describes what he calls the “cosmic liquescence” that artists, writers, and musicians so often tapped into during the Romantic era. These were the last days of the sail, the world teetering on the edge between eras. To be alive during this time was to endure change, and the image of a ship being tossed about by the sea was a metaphor for those caught up in the spirit of the age.

Even more than our own, the world of One Piece is one of water. The ocean as metaphor has the benefit of being extremely broad, at times, paradoxically so. With a little bit of effort, the sea can represent basically whatever you want it to. In the real world, it can mean freedom for those who sail it, but with the proliferation of the Atlantic slave trade, Barbary pirates, and young men being press-ganged into service against their will it can just as easily be a symbol of oppression, terror, and slavery. Pirates were known to be somewhat democratic, but sailors stuck serving under cruel and unreasonable captains could be led to a watery death with no say in their fate. The ocean is life, sustaining countless people with its bounty and giving employment to sailors, fishermen, and any and everyone related to those trades. It is also death, cold, impersonal, and certain. 

A ship might be stuck helplessly in the doldrums or ravaged by savage wind and waves. It is adventure and mystery, for no one knows what lies beyond the horizon or what lurks beneath the surface. It is the thing that separates us, but also the means by which we travel, enabling new connections and the exchange of trade, culture, and colonialism. Depending on their purpose for setting sail, ships of this era were one of the few places where people of vastly different national origins, languages, religions and cultures not only lived together in close proximity, but depended on one another for their livelihoods and survival. An excellent example of this in Romantic literature can be found in Moby Dick, where the American point of view character Ishmeal becomes fast friends with the Pacific Islander Queequeg while working on the international whaling crew.

The sea can be feminine, the primordial mother of us all. Aphrodite was born of sea foam; mermaids, sirens, and nereids roam the waters to tempt, seduce, help, or destroy unwitting sailors. Ships are almost always referred to as she. Via the tides, the ocean is connected with the moon, also traditionally feminine. But the sea is also be masculine. Characters such as Old Man of the Sea, Poseidon, Oceanus were all male, as were the winds all ships depended on.

During the time that the Romantics wrote, sea-side vacations were increasingly prescribed as a health cure while sailors themselves suffered from ailments such as scurvy, typhus, and dysentery. Several poets reminisced longingly about their youthful childhoods swimming care-free in the sea. But the ocean is unfathomably ancient and supremely haunted by the souls of countless lives lost beneath its waves. 

In Moby Dick, the titular whale could represent God, the Devil, or Nature itself. To Tennyson, the breaking of the waves represented grief. The journey across the sea in Rime of the Ancient Mariner deals with life and redemption. To Wordsworth, the sea was immortal. To Byron it was freedom. Shelley writes of the West Wind stirring the sea—and thus the dreamer—awake from a deep summer slumber. To quote Keats, “Oh, ye! who have your eyeballs vexed and tired/Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea”.

I could go on, but let’s not belabor the point. In light of this vastness of metaphor, it is fair to say that in One Piece that the sea isn’t representative of one single thing. The New Era is brought in with Whitebeard’s crashing waves during the Marineford War. The terrible power of the Agua Laguna shows the force of Robin’s darkness breaking the Straw Hats apart, while the stormy skies of that time show the turbulence going on within the crew. Sailing brings people of different cultures, societies, and ideas together, and that forced interaction can break down prejudice and foster understanding between different species and cultures, as shown in both the Fishman Island and Skypiean flashbacks.

The Grand Line itself is portrayed as a cogwheel of fate, bringing the strong together in a clash of wills, and the limited navigational tools means that it is difficult, if not impossible to backtrack—you must live your life without regrets, and continue to move forward as you grow stronger as a person and crew. The sea represents the life of a pirate, often cruel, unfair, and dangerous but ultimately liberating. The promise of adventure exists somewhere beyond that unbroken horizon, a place of wonderland and dreams

The World Government may rule over a hundred and seventy allied nations, but no one owns the sea. Thus, as Luffy says at Sabaody, the Pirate King isn’t about conquering anything, but to become the freest man in the world.

I would also be remiss not to mention that the Sea Metaphor of One Piece is incomplete, and will be until the secrets of the Devil Fruit are finally revealed. It is curious that the force that’s presented as the epitome of freedom completely rejects Devil Fruit users, including the one representing liberation. Egghead also added the interesting element of the sea being an existential threat to the entire world, when the destructive power of the sea over land had been previously limited. It would be interesting to revisit this topic after the series has ended to see how Oda resolves these seemingly competing ideas.

But if there is one metaphor I think rules above all else, it is the sea as home, specifically home for the outcast. Robin says during her flashback, even before the Buster Call comes, that she’s studying to become an archeologist in order to go out to sea with her mother. Her home life on Ohara is one of ostracization. Even the archeologists, who love her dearly, don’t let her in on their deepest, darkest secrets. This is for her own safety, but to an eight year old girl who’s been rejected by everyone else on her home island, even her own family, it’s enough for her to seek solace in the promise of the sea. Then, during the Buster Call, Saul promises her that in the vastness of the sea she will find friends, and she will find family, that no one is born to be alone. It’s a sentiment Reiju echoes to Sanji during the Whole Cake Island flashback.

The sea is an escape. Most of the Straw Hats in one way or another have complicated relationships with their places of origin, and for many returning would be difficult if not impossible. Even a character like Nami, who is universally beloved by her hometown, spent eight years thinking that the people of Cocoyashi Village hated her, making her relationship with them relatively fraught while she was a member of Arlong’s crew. During that time the sea, and the treasure she found therein, was her only hope of freedom. The only Straw Hat who ends up staying behind has strong ties anchoring her to someplace other than the Going Merry. It’s not until hundreds of chapters and many real-world years later that an even greater force usurps Vivi from her homeland.

Similarly, fights with the marines and other enemies often end once the Straw Hats hit the open water. The society that tries to squeeze the citizens of the world into a specific shape loses its power over the boundless ocean. This is, of course, a double-edged sword. Water 7, the bandits of chapter 1, and Garp’s blackmail of Dadan show that it also deprives outlaws like Luffy the benefit of society’s protection. But those who refuse to conform to the whims and pressures of the world gain from fleeing to the sea, and what is to dream if not to refuse to conform in one way or another? Every single one of the Straw Hats want something that conventional wisdom says is impossible, but they search anyway, and in doing so find like-minded friends with which to band together. And like how a cord of rope is stronger than its individual fibers, together this found-family has the ability to challenge society and win, finding their own freedom in the process. 

The reason I hone in on the Sea as Home metaphor so strongly over the more general Sea as Freedom metaphor is developed during Luffy’s post-Marineford flashback. It’s here while he’s forcibly befriending Ace that Luffy reveals to him that being alone is the worst pain in the world, worse than being punched all day by a grown man in spiked boxing gloves. It’s after this that he, Ace, and Sabo discuss the freedom of the seas and piracy, and the moment they become brothers. It is this desire for connection, the longing for the outcast to find their place with other outcasts, that drives Luffy to the sea in the first place. It’s there he finds his people, and while he’s not able to navigate, or cook, or do anything remotely useful on a sailing vessel, he’s able to protect the people flying under his flag. It’s a symbiotic relationship between captain and crew, a complete and total interdependence that is required when sailing the treacherous waters of the Grand Line. 

During the Davy Back Fight, Luffy makes a prophetic statement when fighting Foxy that he’s willing to fight to the death for his friends. It’s an idea echoed during his fight with Bleuno on Enies Lobby, when the latter wonders how long Luffy will keep fighting against the combined might of the World Government. It’s the reason why the death of the Merry, the fight against Usopp, and Robin’s supposed betrayal is so devastating both for the reader and the Straw Hat Pirates. The found family that had developed over the course of the manga has ruptured, and they lost the ship with which they’ve called home.

The Water 7 Saga ends with a reconciliation between brothers and their home built anew, this time stronger and more able to weather the stormy waters that wait ahead, the peaceful lamb exchanged for a fearsome lion with a mane as bright as the sun. Nothing has challenged the internal fortitude of the Straw Hat Pirates quite like that saga and nothing ever will again, because both their home and family has been forged into something unbreakable, allowing them to sail the sea, and pursue their freedom, any way they wish.

Conclusion and Final Thoughts

”Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt in solitude, where we are least alone”—Lord Byron

I want to end on this point, because despite all the similarities between the Romantic movement and One Piece, in this we see one great difference. For all that the characters in Moby Dick are forced to depend on one another and the good judgement of their captain to survive, the book ends with everyone except Ishmael dead. Romantic poetry calls for solitary contemplation, and the landscapes of this era diminish the individual in favor of the wide, open spaces of nature. The zeitgeist of the age celebrated the misunderstood, melancholic genius. If One Piece were written during this time, Luffy would never have been the main protagonist. The rise of the Byronic hero would have made sure that honor went to a darker, more brooding character like Law or Ace.

In 1770, a boy of 17 named Thomas Chatterton committed suicide in his small garret apartment. Having grown up fatherless and in poverty, this young genius of a poet was unable to scratch out a living with his writing, and after battling both depression and the pressure of changing his profession, he instead chose to end his own life.

The death of Chatterton sparked a cult following. His life and death would be commemorated in art, plays, and operas, with poets like Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelly, and Keats all dedicating works to his name. His influence can still be felt today in the trope of the suffering arts that he and countless others helped codify.

One Piece is the story of a boy who rejects the confines of society in search of his own freedom, but he does not do so alone. Luffy is driven as much by the desire to be with his friends as he is by his desire to find the One Piece. The series agrees that risking death is an acceptable part of chasing one's dream, but rejects the notion that it should be sought out or celebrated. In One Piece, it’s better to live an undignified life in the hope of a better tomorrow than to give into an easy death. 

It is ironic that for all that the Romantics emphasized the self, many were friends with one another, Wordsworth and Colridge collaborated in writing Lyrical Ballads. Mary and Percy Shelly were married, and Mary Shelly famously wrote Frankenstein while on a retreat with Lord Byron. The German Romantic movement kickstarted with a group of men who wrote and studied together at the University if Jena, with similar groups later popping up in Berlin and Heidelberg. The American Transcendentalists even formed a club, with Thoreau only able to conduct his two year stint in the woods because the property was owned by Ralph Waldo Emerson, while his mother did his laundry. 

One Piece recognizes that genius is not a solitary venture. Those seeking their freedom cannot and should not do so alone. Existence isn’t a crime, the sea is vast, and your people are out there somewhere.

There are of course other differences. One Piece is written in a post-nuclear, modern world. Among other things, the mysterious, idealized past of the Void Century is not one of primitive nature but hyper-advanced technology, and the progress of man is something to be embraced rather than rejected. 

Yet the biggest difference I keep circling back to is One Piece's unabashed celebration of life. At the end of the day, it’s a story meant to make people laugh. Oda is unafraid of plunging into the depths of despair and tragedy, but he doesn't linger there before pulling the reader back into joy.

LP Hartley once wrote that, “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there”. One Piece can never be mistaken as a story of the historical Romantic movement. There’s just too much difference between the world of today and the one where these works came.  But I hope that I've shown how it carries some of that legacy into the present day. Intentionally or not, Oda has taken an old idea and used it as a guardrail for the entire series. Like the sun, guiding the dawn of a new era. The dawn of Romance, if you will.

A Romance Dawn. 

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Do You Need to Let Go Of?

Hello beautiful people! Today is Saturday aka Saturn Day. In honor of Saturn Day, the day associated with banishment, protection and responsibility. Today is the day we let go of what no longer serves us; the day where we can no longer ignore what sits heavy on our spirits. So without further ado, please choose your Saturn.

**If you really loved this topic then you should book a reading with me, please read my guidelines and then message me privately! Also, if you had received a reading from me, don’t be afraid to leave a little feedback! Please and thank you in advance. 🫶🫶🫶

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-6)

PILE ONE: “No More Mr. Nice Guy” is what I heard. I feel like you tend to have a lot of love & compassion for people. This doesn’t necessarily translate over to the other person/people though. You need to stop being so nice, Pile One. I think you have a lot of growing up to do. There is good and bad in everyone but what really matters is how this person makes you feel. Stop caring about the feelings of other people if you aren’t going to take yourself into consideration. This is why you always get taken advantage of. It’s okay to be a moody bitch sometimes. Having a sunny disposition 24/7 just isn’t realistic. Don’t act naive when you know the truth about certain situations. Move intentionally and with wisdom. If you don’t think they won’t do that, think again.

Cards Used: The Star, King of Cups, 7 of Cups, The Fool, The Moon, The Tower, Judgment.

PILE TWO: The movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind may resonate with you. I feel like you need to let go of your ex, seriously. You don’t have to forget about them but you do need to move past this person. They have caused much turmoil in your life, especially when it comes to your mental health. They could have indirectly negatively affected your finances as well. But there is someone else who is on the horizon. They want you to see the bigger picture. They want to show you better. If you have been writing notes about what you would like to see in your future partner, expect for these qualities to show up in someone that will soon approach you. They have a beautiful, colorful aura and they will let you shine. Your ex fucked you up bad but you can recover from this. Don’t be afraid to see what love has in store for you, my love.

Cards Used: King of Cups, The Magician, 2 of Cups (RX), The Star, The High Priestess, 5 of Wands, Judgment, Strength, The Fool.

PILE THREE: You’re a Virgo/Sagittarius, aren’t you? You don’t have to know and control everything, honey. Let go of the need to be involved in everything. You have been neglecting your soul’s needs. You have a lot of potential to grow but you don’t know how to accept help nor do you allow yourself to just be. You’re so uptight and burnt out right now. It would benefit you to just walk away from stress-inducing situations. If you know you can’t take that extra shift at work, why even bother? Who are you trying to please? You are making it hard for yourself to maneuver through this world peacefully because you do not know how to enjoy what’s in front of you. If only you could see the beauty of your labor. Slow down. Why are you going so hard for? You’re so used to making things happen that you get frustrated when things don’t work out your way. A word of advice: Please just allow time to do its thing. Don’t work against it.

Cards Used: The Sun (RX), Ace of Cups, Strength, 2 of Discs (RX), King of Wands, 7 of Wands (RX), 3 of Discs, 10 of Swords, The Magician, The Hierophant.

PILE FOUR: Christmastime must be your favorite time of the year, huh? I feel like you could also have a strong connection to Mariah Carey as well. Her book is on my mind heavy as I’m reading for you. I feel like you are so used to dysfunctional relationships. You have the tendency to move fast with people. I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, they ain’t going nowhere! Let go of your lovebombing tendencies and show up as your real self. I don’t think you see this as that but it is. You don’t seem to be big on communication. I don’t think you had the best role models for any kind of relationship so you just do what you know. But this does not translate well with other people, which results in chaos. Unpack why you interact with others the way that you do. You too, have a lot of growing up to do, my friend.

Cards Used: Knight of Wands, King of Swords, Queen of Cups (RX), Four of Wands (RX), Ace of Wands (RX), The High Priestess, 8 of Wands, 3 of Cups.

PILE FIVE: “Shut up and dance.” No seriously, shut up and dance. I feel like you are someone that refuses to be seen dancing in public or just in general. There is no need to feel like that. Let go of your shyness, babe. I feel like you actually have good dance moves, you just don’t want to be seen for some reason. Dancing will help you get more comfortable in the spotlight. You have gotten too comfortable in your little bubble. The next time someone asks you to dance, accept the offer (especially if it’s zydeco, salsa or kompa 🙈). You’re never too cute to dance, pookie.

Cards Used: The Hermit, Knight of Discs, The Chariot, 6 of Wands, The Empress, King of Discs (RX).

PILE SIX: Why are you wasting your time arguing with everyone? You need to master the art of preserving your energy. Let go of the need to prove yourself/defend yourself to other people. You exist just like everyone else on this planet but somehow you always end up in a verbal altercation. Is it worth it? I’m sure there’s plenty of alternative options you could choose. Just walking away could do you some good. You are the type of person to catch someone in a lie. Instead of cursing them out, you could just laugh in their face or block them. You could channel this energy into something else. It is normal to experience anger. But just know that you could always get in trouble if you never control it properly. Get a handle on your emotions. Be more logical & cutthroat. I think you definitely could benefit from taking the high road. Your soul is tired. Give it up, babe.

Cards Used: Knight of Swords, Queen of Swords, The Lovers, 8 of Cups, Ace of Swords, The Hermit, Justice, The Moon, The Star.

[reasonsforhope]

"A global shift to a mostly plant-based “flexitarian” diet could reduce greenhouse gas emissions and help restrict global heating to 1.5C, a new study shows.

Previous research has warned how emissions from food alone at current rates will propel the world past this key international target.

But the new research, published in the Science Advances journal, shows how that could be prevented by widespread adoption of a flexitarian diet based around reducing meat consumption and adding more plant-based food.

“A shift toward healthy diets would not only benefit the people, the land and food systems,” said Florian Humpenöder, a study author and senior scientist at the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research, “but also would have an impact on the total economy in terms of how fast emissions need to be reduced.” ...

The researchers found that adopting a flexitarian diet could lower methane and nitrous oxide emissions from agriculture and lower the impacts of food production on water, nitrogen and biodiversity. This in turn could reduce the economic costs related to human health and ecosystem degradation and cut GHG emissions pricing, or what it costs to mitigate carbon, by 43% in 2050.

The dietary shift models also show limiting peak warming to about 1.5C can be achieved by 2045 with less carbon dioxide removal, compared with if we maintain our current diets.

“It’s important to stress that flexitarian is not vegetarian and not vegan,” Humpenöder says. “It’s less livestock products, especially in high-income regions, and the diet is based on what would be the best diet for human health.”

In the US, agriculture accounts for more than 10% of total GHG emissions. Most of it comes from livestock. Reducing meat consumption can free up agricultural land used for livestock production, which in turn can lower methane emissions. A potent greenhouse gas, methane is mainly expelled from cows and other animals raised for livestock. Animal production is the primary contributor to air quality-related health impacts from US food systems.

“This paper further confirms what other studies have shown, which is that if we change our diets to a more flexitarian type, we can greatly reduce greenhouse gas emissions,” said Jason Hill, a professor in the University of Minnesota’s department of bioproducts and biosystems engineering.

According to the study authors, one way to achieve a shift toward healthier diets is through price-based incentives, such as putting taxes on the highest-emitting animal products, including beef and lamb. Another option is informing consumers about environmental consequences of high meat consumption."

-via The Guardian, March 27, 2024

[punkpandapatrixk]

🧝🏻‍♀️Camera Ready ☆ Timeless Tarot Guidance

Elements/Signs in this reading are calibrated to all aenergetic placements. Feel free to read as many Elements/Signs as you feel called to at this point in your spiritual evolution♡

♦︎Mystical Glow-Up Secrets PAC♦︎

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Title of this Tarot Guidance is a bit misleading, gals LOL This isn’t a reading for helping you become more photogenic—I ain’t got that kinda knowledge XD It’s not about helping you know better how to pose in front of the camera but we’re going to look into the aenergy of your glow-up chances within the year of your finding this~😊

So many of us within this collective have been hard at work bettering our mindsets and healing from past traumas. Starting 2024, the Universal Mandate will have us all reap the benefits of our dedicated spiritual work. So much that’s been taken away is going to return more gloriously. So much that’s been derailed is going to align and make sense again. So much material blessing that’s been withheld from you is going to pour in fast like the wine barrel has exploded LOL

Whatever year you’re reading this, you’re gaining—or regaining—vitality and glow and physical beauty is yours to take by Divine Order. If you resonate, trust that this process is gonna happen very organically and pleasantly—like it’s divinely ordained—whether or not your glow-up involves some ‘work’, you know what I mean?✂️🩹🩺

How ever you’re glowing up, it won’t have you feeling like you have to sacrifice a lot of anything. It’s because your glow-up is a cosmic reward! Everybody’s physical health is also gonna transform majorly, especially if you’ve been feeling poisoned by the terrible food, water or air in your city/country. All in all, your Quality of Life is gonna have a major glow-up and this will have a direct impact on both your physical and mental health😉

You’re gonna shine from the inside and be always Camera Ready! \`★_★`/

‘Front cameras are so scary. The way they make you look ugly. I'm not Keira Knightley, but I know for sure the mirror says I'm not ugly.’ – my mindset LOL

deck-bottom: XXI The World, Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus), Priestess of Rebirth

[PAG Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Camera Ready for 🐞Fire Signs – Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei)

Knight of Cups, Ace of Pentacles Rx, Page of Cups

Fire Signs have been hard at work at bettering their mentality and spirituality, right? Like I’m seeing you’ve learnt a great deal to temper your fiery emotions and how those affect your perception of where you stand vs your environment, as well as the people surrounding you. You’ve learnt to temper a lot of your anger that was often the result of being disappointed in people—and unfair situations. A quote that suits you the most right now is: ‘They will never know the violence it took to be this gentle.’

By now, I’m sure you’ve begun to feel a lot lighter. Like, you’ve become so sure that quite nothing can irk you the way you were easily irritated before. I’m seeing that your focus right now is in bettering your physical health and how you ‘rest your face’. Many of you have been under so much stress that either you’ve developed a permanent frown or you’ve gained or lost a lot of weight due to erratic eating behaviour caused by said stress.

You’re now either losing some extra weight or gaining strength and vitality again because you’ve become clear as to how deserving you are to feel good in your own existence no matter what you do. So yes, this goes beyond just ‘feeling good in your body’; you’re really focusing on having a pleasant existence with whatever you’ve chosen to do with your Life. And right now, your focus is in your health, your work-life balance (especially resonant if you have your own business or make your own schedule), as well as the kinds of nutrition that you consume on a regular basis.

Rest assured that none of these efforts will go to waste. You’re literally on the right trajectory towards a massive glow-up that’s super deserved!! You will see within the next couple of months (whenever you’re seeing this) that your face looks cheerier, there’s more colour there and that physical exercises and breathing itself become more easy to do~ I’m also seeing the way you walk will get more charismatic and enchanting ^_☆~

Oracle Guidance for Fire Signs🔻❤️

🐏Aries – Priestess of Luck

🦁Leo – Priestess of Contemplation

🎠Sagittarius – Priestess of Shine

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Camera Ready for 🐍Earth Signs – Silver Magus (Merlin)

9 of Pentacles, II The High Priestess, 4 of Pentacles Rx

Wow, I’m really seeing glamour and charisma for you, Earth Signs. There’s this sense that you’ve gained a lot of confidence through the cultivation of inner strength. It’s something to do with your mindset. I don’t know what kinds of things had caused you to struggle with insecurity before, but you’ve triumphed over most of those self-doubting voices. You’ve found your footing in the world and you no longer think that there’s so much wrong in your personality or your life choices.

This was not an easy feat to achieve all by yourself. For the most part, you were completely all alone in your head; battling all kinds of demons and negative self-image; learning to distinguish between the voices of your Guides and Ancestors guiding you from the voices of your haters installed in your brain since childhood. For many of you, the ‘haters’ were literally ‘family’ members. Little bitches who didn’t want to see you succeed because your achievements and happiness would be a direct insult to their failure as a human being.

You’re done, babe. You’re not giving Life to those opinions anymore. You’re not giving attention to those seeds of failure they wished would grow in you. You know your worth and it doesn’t matter if none of them understands your path. You live for yourself now, maybe your pet fish, and you know you’re always gonna have your Ancestors to back you up. And one day, when all’s said and done, you’re going to be surrounded by Soulmates who are gonna love and admire all that you’ve done to follow your heart.

You now hold all of the power in the world to create your own ideal Life. Up until now your opposition had had power only because you gave it attention. Without your attention, without your guilt and shame, they have ZERO power to stop you! Now stand tall and stomp forward!~★

Oracle Guidance for Earth Signs🔻💚

🐂Taurus – Priestess of Purity

🧘🏻‍♀️Virgo – Priestess of Ambition

🐐Capricorn – Priestess of Strength

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Camera Ready for ⛲Air Signs – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

8 of Wands, 4 of Cups Rx, 7 of Wands Rx

Gosh, communication and bridge-building are very strong in your aenergy, Air Signs. I know this reading is supposed to talk about your personal glow-up but I’m really getting this aenergy like you’re about to build bridges with other nations and brainstorm the living shit out of your brains and make the world a better place and then everybody becomes pretty? \`★_★`/

So, the kinda glow-up that you’re meant to go through this year is one on a mental level, and once you arrive at this heightened level of awareness about the evil workings of the world, you’re gonna help everybody you know (or those who know you, basically) overcome the barriers of society—even the Matrix—and achieve an unreal level of physical manifestation of all the things you’ve ever wanted to have in your lives.

You’re gonna carry everyone with you and not just yourself. In that sense, I feel a very strong Hero aenergy about your glow-up. If you have an audience, you can directly impact their lives by just being you and telling your Story. You’re like this blueprint or this Prototype of a futuristic kind of existence. That it’s possible for all people to do what you’ve done to elevate yourself out of a lack mindset and even sorrow.

Even if you didn’t necessarily have an ‘audience’ in that sense, you could still have this effect on your family and friends <3 Overall, you’re giving a Paris Hilton kinda vibe. Girlie lives weirdly for herself but in all that she does, she’s so iconic that she becomes a trend-setter. You’re like this trend-setter that sets the standards higher when it comes to what people could expect from themselves whilst living in society. Does that make sense?? XD

Oracle Guidance for Air Signs🔻💙

👯Gemini – Priestess of Innocence

⚖️Libra – Priestess of Illumination

🏺Aquarius – Priestess of Protection

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Camera Ready for 🐝Water Signs – Red Historian (John Dee)

6 of Pentacles Rx, 10 of Wands, 9 of Wands

O. Mai. Gut. How’s your gut doing, babes? LMAO So, the first thing I’m getting is that your gut health is very important to your real physical glow-up. Hear me out. Gut health is DIRECTLY linked to mental health, and I think most of us already know this to varying degrees? Our vitamin intake also affects hormones and those hormones affect our moods, which affect mental health, which then affects physical radiance?

Yup, that applies to everybody but more so to you if your physical attributes are highly Water-based—such as Sun, Ascendant, Moon, IC and MC, and also to some extent your Venus, and to a lesser extent your Saturn. If these placements are Water-based or they are located in a Water House, everything going on inside your body, which is like 97% fluid…water and blood and all that…your physical appearance is highly linked to how healthy your ‘inner world’ is doing. So, it’s a good idea to pay more attention to the insides of your body before you make all of these efforts that pay heed to only the outer skin.

Am I making any sense? T_T I don’t know the technical terms for these things LOL

But anyway, the year you’re reading this, Water Signs, you’re being encouraged to take better care of your gut health as well as the kinds of ‘water’ that you consume regularly to help with proper hydration. I’ve read that coconut water is incredibly beneficial for daily consumption so maybe that could help. This year, you’re super supported in learning from different professional takes on health and how that affects physical appearances!

Know that health tips and tricks can vary in benefits based on gender, race and ethnic backgrounds; so that’s also a very interesting component in your studies. If you take the time to study what makes you UNIQUE based on your genetics, ancestral origins, or even the geographical location you grew up in, you can more easily decide what practical routines to apply for yourself to achieve the easiest glow-up that makes sense! <3 Good luck~

Oracle Guidance for Water Signs🔻💛

🦀Cancer – Priestess of Healing

🦂Scorpio – Priestess of Divination

🎏Pisces – Priestess of Intellect

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAG Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[shini--chan]

Hi, hello!! If possible, would it be ok for me to request the first yandere character sheet for america?? I absolutely love the way you characterize him!!

Yandere Character Sheet I

1p America: Alfred F. Jones

Trigger warnings: neglect, starvation, white torture, abandonment, forced assimilation, murder, physical and verbal abuse, mind games

Attributes - What sort of Yandere is he/she?

The problem with Alfred as a yandere would be how his base personality affects his yandere tendencies. Fundamentally, he wants to be a hero, he wants to help people and be selfless, but it is ruined by his self-centred worldview and his egoist ideology. At the end of the day, he is far more concerned about how you can benefit him, rather than how he can ensure and protect your happiness and health. America would only really be willing to change his actions if he faces negative consequences or it ruins his glorious self-image. Though, by putting you in a position where you are powerless in relation to him, he’ll be able to brush off/mitigate many of the negative consequences that could arise. Even if there is something that he wouldn’t be able to simply flick away, he would likely frame somebody else than engage in any soul-searching. To synthesise a few concrete characteristics out of all of this, he would be arrogant, self-righteous and in denial about any wrong doings on his part. 

That being said, Alfred would be perfectly capable of being a gentleman. Should he put some effort in it, then he’ll be the roguish and handsome boy-next-door to you. It would even feel very off or false since it would be partially true and not just an act. America is absolutely capable of being decent. All in all, it would just make everything more difficult, though. Since you wouldn’t be dealing with a pure sociopath, but a complex, layered person, he would be unpredictable in the worst way possible. No pure evil, but no pure good either - if anything, he would nourish any conflicting feelings you have about him. So, he would really take the phrase from Machiavelli, that it is best to be feared as well as loved, very much to heart. America would take you on dates, shower you with gifts, compliment you and take you home with him. He is so desirable, isn’t he? Above everything, he would want you to be smitten with him, since it would stroke his ego. 

He is also delusional, so he wouldn’t take much offence should he have to drag you to his side kicking and screaming. At the end of the day, what Alfred believes in most is his own hype. If he was a religion, then he is his own god, or at very least, the Chosen One. Any criticism would simply be water off a duck’s back and he’ll laugh at you. Here, he would also bring one of the worst of Christian traits to the fore and claim that you know the truth, know that he is good and moral and heroic, and that you’re just trying to lead him astray. So, rather than him having to repent, you should. Alfed would prove to be hard headed in everything, though on minor issues and things he would be more inclined to listen and admit that he’s wrong than on major ones. In total, he wouldn’t be extremely communicative on things he doesn’t like, excluding it is something that is tied to his idiosyncrasies, since he would think that rules of the game are clear to you. So, from a certain point onwards, you’ll find yourself walking on egg-shells around him, unless you figure him out and fast. 

Additionally, he is a very busy man. This is a person that can’t sit still for even an hour and has a mind that would constantly race from one train of thoughts to the next set of ideas. Life with him would never be boring (unless you are bad and don’t obey him), so you yourself might end up being too busy to notice all the red flags in the beginning. The start would also be the get-to-know-you phase, where you would have considerably more freedom, so life with him in it would feel exhilarating. While luring you in his fold, he would also be very indulgent towards you and take you where-ever you wish to go. A holiday to Tuscany? Booked and the luggage packed. Need help with your bills? They are already paid. Advise on some future life choice? His lecture/prep talk is going to be over two hours. 

Though, he is also calculating. Not only in the scheming, villain manner, but also in the most literal sense of the word. His actions regarding you, and even just the choice to engage with you is weighed against a set of internal scales. Like any savvy businessman, he wants the costs to him to be as minimal as possible while making maximum profit. To him, this is how the world works and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. So, you would have to bring something to the table as well. Should he help you, then we’re supposed to help him in return. Get a loan from him, then pay it back full and with interest - should you have troubles with that, then he’ll have no problems in … tweaking you or also parts of your life to achieve the desired end result. 

Alfred is also manipulative, and to a horrifying extent. He’d not shy away from restricting your access to information, and sculpting your views to his liking. Even the information that you would be able to get your hands on would be framed to influence you and play on your emotions. He would know a whole array of psychological tricks and shortcuts that he wouldn’t hesitate to use on you. However, if you would do the same to him, he would scream foul. Rules for thee, but not for me indeed. That is a further problem with him - his own perceived exceptionalism dictates that he is above everybody else, and the other’s are just chess pieces on his game board. 

Cornering - How would they get you?

With the carrot and the stick. Ideally, you should never be aware of the stick, though if you put a toe out of line, the stick will become very noticable. In the case that you cooperate, then it would be a Hollywood romance (and like those protagonists in movies, he’ll be similarly incapable of accepting rejection). The future with you should be white and fluffy, akin to a picture-book perfect fantasy. He would also use promises and allusions to such a fate to get you where he wants you. If you have doubts, or if you are a not-so-willing bride, then some pressure would be applied - he would convince your relatives and friends that he’s the best option for you, and have them press-gang you into marrying him. 

Else, he’ll appeal to your naked self-interest, if you have such inclinations. He’ll present himself as the ideal protector, or a way to grant you financial security, or find some other way to awaken your interest. Perhaps you’ll even be convinced that you want the union more than him, that you’re the one using him to your advantage. 

Of course, if push comes to shove, then he would simply abduct you, break you down and rebuild you to his liking. To make an omelette, you have to break a few eggs - that would be his line of thinking if the. Asides, it would all be your fault for not having the right values. 

Expectations - What do they expect of you?

This is the tricky and controversial part. You see, part of Alfred’s expectations, ones that he isn’t even conscious of since he takes them as given, would be that you fit in his world view. What that would entail would be that you hold capitalism and liberalism to be the most progressive forms of politics, that the world must strive towards more freedom and more democracy to reach the end of history, that people are selfish and vainglorious and every interaction between people is nothing more than a transaction. That your lines of thought run on the exact same structures as his do - a liberal, faustian worldview. The matter here is, if you have a different outlook in that regard, then he wouldn’t accept it as valid. You would be declared evil or stupid, or both, by him and he would strive to “save you” and bring you to the light. 

One trait that he would consciously want of you, would be that you’re entertaining. If there is one thing that he wouldn’t tolerate well, then it would be boredom. Don’t induce that in him, don’t let him become bored with you - if you are already in his grasp and he grows disinterested in you, then you’d have a cruel fate ahead of you. Be unpredictable (but not too much, he wants to keep you under lock and key) and challenging to him. In the show that is his life, be either the villian that he must defeat or the love interest that he must save and conquer. . Hence, you'll always have to find ways to be novel and exciting to him - not an easy feat with such a capricious individual. Challenge him, change the rules of the game, make him suffer to have his pleasure. Not too much though - harm could befall you if you make matters too difficult while not having the upper hand. 

Whatsmore, he would expect you to heed him and look up to him. Let him up your knight in shining armour, your shining city on the hill. The trick would be finding the right balance of relenting and resisting; the tricky part would be that this balance would change over time and not in a very predictable fashion. Still, laud and lionise him, make him feel special and wanted. Should he have the feeling that you understand him like no other, then he would be less inclined to throw you away. This could be an advantage or a disadvantage, depending on how your overall standing to each other is. 

Further, he expects you to be of a cheerful disposition. You don't have to be sweet as sugar and everything nice, you are allowed to have a temper and swear and rage from time to time. Blazes, your niceness and optimism is allowed to be very selective. Though, it would have to be in the range of what he would deem as normal. That being said, if you don't entirely fulfil his expectations there, then he wouldn't see it as a dealbreaker. He can "fix" you after all. The end result should then be a person who is committed to him, who greets him at the door and reciprocates his affection. Him and you against the world. Shake your fist at everybody else; it is alright if he is the only one you give your smiles and heart to. 

Beauty is another characteristic that he would seek in a partner. You wouldn't even have to be conventionally beautiful to fulfil his expectations, or even healthy. That being said, he would want you to be pretty in a sense that sickness wouldn't tarnish your looks, like the Victorian ladies that suffered from tuberculosis. In a way, you should be the sort of person that could be cast in a movie. 

Faded - Would they let go of you in any way?

In the case that he would find somebody more enticing, then you would just be casted aside like a ruined doll. Not that he would necessarily throw you out onto the street; it would be more likely that you would be “stored” somewhere, withering away since that you wouldn’t be the centre of his attention anymore. Chances are that he would forget about you, forget to give you sustenance or maintain your hygiene - most likely he’ll only remember you when the stench of your decomposing body reaches his nostrils. That, or he would just drop you off in the middle of nowhere and leave you to fend for yourself. What happens to you beyond that, won’t be his business, or so he would insist.  

On a less macabre front, you could also just slip away in such a scenario and he wouldn’t really care, unless you divulge state secrets and/or sic the police on him. Aside from that, if something else would take up all his attention and commitment, you could actually have a fair chance of making a break for it and staying free forever. By the time he could spend time and attention on you, the trial would have gone cold. Maybe he would even give up on you then. 

Another possibility would be if he would be forced to let you go. Say, if his actions actually lead to negative consequences for him and his power wanes, third parties could intervene and rip you away from him. It could be that he would even become so powerless that he would be forced to live with the outcome. Other than that, there are some lines that even he (or especially he, depending on how you look at it) wouldn’t be able to cross. Should one his rivals take you under their wing, or a weaker person/nation even just successfully hide you, then there would be little he could do about it. 

Punishment - How would they proceed if you do something they disapprove of?

Oh, he can be very harsh. The tricky part with Alfred would be, that he takes a set of ground rules to be self-evident. So, should you break said rules then it wouldn't be because of a misunderstanding, a lack of knowledge or even just an accident. Instead, he would view it as you being purposefully disobedient. That's why you might find yourself spontaneously hulled away and locked in a closet, or tied to the bed. America wouldn't be above giving you a "time-out" in the corner either. 

Else, he would be a fan of white torture. Repeated violation of the ground rules would land you in the white room. You'd stay there for some time, living a very colourless life. Your meals would be white, just like your clothing and bed and overall surrounding. There wouldn't be anything in the room with which you could entertain yourself, just a bolted down bed and a waterless toilet. Other methods that would fall in the same category would be depriving you of sleep, waking you up at random times, or also exposing you to noises that are of very low frequencies. 

Or he would make you live the same day on repeat. The same food, the same books/movies, the same clothes, the same music - those parameters would be fixed, and none of your actions can change anything about it. It would only stop when he decides you've been punished enough. 

Alfred wouldn't resort to physical or sexual abuse to teach you a lesson. Not because he is such a decent person, or because he respects you so deeply, but to keep up appearances. He wouldn't be able to show you in public if you're black and blue, and you should spread your legs for him without him having to pry them apart. Though, if you ask him to lay you over his knee and spank you, then he'll gladly indulge you. And he'll make you ask him or trick you into signing a "permission slip". It would let him punish you as he would deem fit, without ruining the picture of a picture perfect relationship. That being said, if you gain the upper hand, then it would be a different picture. 

Aside from the aforementioned ground rules, there would be variable rules that he would introduce, implement, or discard at will. America would inform you of some of them. However, he is a busy man, and would forget to tell you about changes at times. You'll still be punished, no matter how much you'd protest, though he would be a bit more lenient here from time to time. So it could be some yelling and insults, or it could be him putting you on random medication so that you can suffer from the side effects, and from the intended effects as well. 

Reaction - How would they react to you escaping?

For a short answer - look at all those Hollywood movies. 

For a long answer - shouldering a rifle with a tranquiliser dart and hunting you down like a deer. He'll be tracking your phone and constantly looking into your bank transactions. A missing person report would be put out with a finder's fee or he would have you declared a wanted criminal on some trumped up charges. 

Various surveillance cameras will be monitored and followed, and he'll have agents stationed at airports and the like to intercept you should you appear there. If that wouldn't work, then he'll call in some favours to have somebody stab you in the back and return you to him. 

Should all that fail, then he'll issue an ultimatum to you in a way he would sure that you'll notice. 

Turnabout - Scenario: You have the upper hand? What would be different from their usual MO?

There is a way you could turn the tables without him realising it, or protesting against it too much. The interests of individuals as well as collectives don't always oppose each other, sometimes they align. So, you could manipulate him into doing your bidding by pulling his heart strings or playing on his fears. Since power isn't a zero sum game, and since he has a very skewed view of reality, chances are that he wouldn't even notice. Furthermore, he might be so engrossed with his own "supremacy", that he'll willingly turn a blind eye. 

Though, should he feel threatened or that you're gaining more power over him, then all hell would break loose. Defamation would ensue, and he would do anything to drag your reputation through the mud, with tactics and assertions that would seem straight up ludicrous the longer this situation would play out. Should matters escalate, then he would resort to even graver tactics right up to killing you. With his status under threat, he would pull guns out on you, break your bones, or even strangle you. 

Vengeance - What would they do in the face of competition?

If the person can be bought, they will be bought. Alfred would just through some meaningless things their way to get them to pipe down, make some empty promises, make them sell their soul to him. He would love the opportunity to pull the rug from under them, and he would surely find a way. The despair that they would display is something that he would live for. 

Naturally, there are other methods he would apply. Such as threats and physical intimidation. In those cases, he might end up acting too much like a Disney villain. Funny how the heroes become the villains, eh? As such, he wouldn't have any guilt in swinging his fists and granting his unfortunate opponent a trip to the hospital. The whole affair would be depicted as him defending your honour. 

And if the person goes missing to never be seen again, then what can he do about it? Any and all clues that would point to him being involved would be purely coincidental. 

[heartfullofleeches]

A People Eater's Worse Nightmare

Yandere Parasite/Shapeshifter + G.N Reader blurb

Summary: They love you. What the fuck's wrong with them.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism

A nice big house. Large group of friends.

Yeah- this life was great.

Framed pictures of loved ones on the wall, freezer stocked full of meat. Beer cans on the coffee table and blood stains in the carpet. Such accomities made this place fitting to be their perfect home.

Shame they couldn't stick around.

[Hey, Dude! Last night was killer. You on for Sunday?]

The homeowner shoots a dismissive reply, sinking deeper into the revels of their catch present in the murky waters they reside. It was far too easy this time. A homebody with loose ties to numerous people turned the life of the party and friend group after a trip out of town. "Taking a new approach on life." And all that other horseshit that left people none the wiser to the horrors committed behind locked doors.

It was paradise, but too much of a good thing was bad for anyone's health. Getting to caught up in prey's daily life could make one sloppy. How people managed to miss those tiny spots of macroon in the rug or the smell that lingered was beyond them, but maybe that's just how primitive those claimed to be the top of the chain were. They needed to move ship, and fast.

A new message pops up on the screen, from a number simply marked with a heart.

[I had a really nice time with you last night. I hope we can meet up again soon.]

There it was. The other issue with being human. With how many lives they have under their belt, they've done this song and dance many times before. They've been married and divorced. Slept with numerous people in one night, and had committed friend with benefits deals. They could've made excuses for it all, but there was a side of them that longed for connect. An amalgamation of the feelings the one before them held and their own urges. There was many partners before this one and there would be plenty after.

So why can't they hit send?

[Hey, Y/n. Some stuff came up with my folks so I'll be out of town for a while. I'll hit you up when I get back.

A passage excuse. One that could potentially throw off their temporary mate if they were the type to overthink. For some reason, that got under their skin. Freaky. Maybe it's because they never managed to get them in the sack - or call them by their real name.

It's cool - By morning those feelings will be gone and they'll move onto the next. Just one more night and the homeowner would go back from social outcast turned devil worshipper - to a beast a little closer to home.

As their head sinks under the water, the homeowner just can't get that smile out of their head.

-

The parasite groans as it pull itself out of the bathtub. Hangovers were a bitch no matter what breed you were. It drags its heavy body off the floor and picks up the homeowner's phone. There's a missed message on screen. Their body suddenly feels lighter

[Hi. I saw you read my message, and I'm not trying to push things, but I wanted to invite you to breakfast if you were free.]

[Sure thing, Sweetheart. Just send me the locale]

The parasite hums to itself and it walks in front of the mirror, thinking about what to wear for its date with its partner. They open the cabinet to grab that perfume you said was nice on your second date-

What. What the fuck?

Ink slams the door shut; whiplash cracking the mirror. They stare at the exposed muscle structure of their skin, narrow eyes large as tennis balls. They - were themselves again, but they still as they did masquerading as that whiny little bitch. Their heart smiled in tune seeing that message, and their guts bubbled in anticipation for being beside the one to make them feel this way. They feel sick.

"What did you do to me. What did you do-"

Ink scrolls through the texts you've sent and photos you've taken together. You had to've done something. Poisoned them with some fucked up chemical. Snuck a part of yourself in their food to make them crave you so god damn bad.

Their search leaves them with nothing but a swollen heart and rage filled mind. They punch the mirror. Angry at the world, they still want nothing more than to see your disgustingly pretty face again.

"Fuck."

[kairiscorner]

Did you get a request? It's Gn spiderperson secretly taking care of Miguel O'Hara! I think I forgot to type his name too so sorry about that! Thanks!

love, your secret admirer. — miguel o'hara x gn!reader

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

(✧) word count: 1,394

(✧) request: You know secret admirers? I have a similar idea to that! Gn spiderperson secretly gives him stuff he needs or something to make his day easier! Like I assumed he doesn't take care of his health much so they will give meals, water, coffee, snacks, etc! He was wary at first but realised it's always something that helps him! So he wants to find them but they're so sneaky that even he wonders how he managed to miss them! He decided to pretend to leave when he's actually hiding & that's when they were about to leave after giving him a meal! They were so fast that he almost lost them! Does this make sense 😂

(✧) author's note: OYYYY i literally crave these dynamics HEEEEE i wanna be miggy's sweet little human assistant, the softer, less chaotic kinda lyla that's not AI for him, which reader is basically LOL man has trust issues, but he can never say no to your cute, darling little face and kind heart that makes him swoon. ANYWAY, HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, ANON !!!

every morning, for the past few weeks, miguel had been gifted with little treats at his desk–treats he hadn't realized he's missed all this time until it was right in front of him. "who left these?" he asked lyla as he tasked her to identify any tracks left by whoever could've 'gifted' this to him. lyla chimed in and reported to miguel that she couldn't find any DNA tracing back to the sender; though, lyla had checked the package thoroughly and assured miguel the treats were extremely safe. "passed all the safety protocols, mig, i didn't pick up anything malicious or even remotely harmful from them. just plain old treats ya love, that's all they are, really." lyla explained as miguel rolled his eyes and looked at the treats all neatly wrapped with a dark red and blue ribbon, examining it and taking in all the... friendliness of this little gift before him.

"not used to being gifted anything, hmm?" lyla teased miguel as he snarled at her, turning his nose up at her and glaring at the holographic assistant. he hated that she was, indeed, right–he wasn't used to being gifted anything, let alone something so intricately wrapped. he looked around and heard the crunching of a small piece of paper on the ground. he seemed to have stepped on a sticky note, which he picked up. it read:

'don't forget to spoil yourself sometimes! (◡ ω ◡) — your secret admirer.'

miguel swore he recognized that penmanship somewhere, though due to the lack of any signature or name attached to the message, he couldn't figure out just who in the multiverse could've placed these on his desk. "secret admirer, huh?" lyla teased. "this is probably just some prank by those damn teens." miguel rationalized as his mask dissipated, his stern look still on his face, but slowly softening as he held the gift in his hands, feeling the warmth emanating from the treats. the scent coming from the treats this mystery person left for him was too hard to resist, so he ended up snacking on them before he even realized it. the surprises didn't end there, however–for the rest of the month, miguel had been receiving anonymous gifts that benefitted him and relieved him of stress that accumulated throughout the day.

he hadn't realized he needed coffee in his morning, or that he was hungry for his lunch, or was craving any snacks he hadn't had in a long time until he was treated to them right then and there. he had gotten very suspicious of these constant gifts that were waiting for him at his desk, he had always subjected them to thorough inspections from lyla, but they were never anything bad nor dangerous–they were harmless little gifts, and miguel... miguel was now curious. he wanted to figure who was leaving these gifts for him, these gifts that help keep him sane, healthy, and a little bit happier than he was before all this. he had narrowed down the hours when the gifts would usually come from this 'secret admirer' and had devised a time and plan that he would enact once the right time frame for the next gift would come.

"are you feeling like you're in mission: impossible right now?" lyla asked miguel all sarcastically as miguel stood by the wall in his suit's camouflage mode and held him breath in; waiting for someone to drop off another gift with another uplifting note that... that made him look forward to the next hour, the next day, and the rest of the week, really. he shushed lyla as he heard footsteps from down the hall sneak over to his office, he pressed himself against the wall and anticipated for his secret admirer to come in through those doors and make themselves known to him without them even knowing. as the doors opened, a couple of feet stepped in—bringing with them a familiar frame and face that miguel knew and... was guilty of looking at and admiring himself often when they weren't looking. he spoke your name in a whisper as he watched you shyly drop off a homemade gift for him and attached a sticky note onto the gift itself, muttering under your breath how much of a dork you look right now for not being able to muster the confidence to give these to him in person.

miguel couldn't quell the rapid beating of his heart—as you spoke to yourself, practicing how you'd confess to miguel that you've been the anonymous little darling that's been gifting him all those goodies and feeding him those meals he seems to like so much, he's so drawn to how adorable and humble you look right then and there. "i'm your... secret admirer, mig..." you mutter to yourself, practicing how you'd tell him. you got all flustered at the thought of what his response would be, shaking your head as you sighed; knowing full well to yourself that he wouldn't care... or you thought that he wouldn't care, because right behind you was the man himself—your back pressing against his chest as he gave a low hum in response to your accidental confession. you turned around gently and almost fainted when you realized just who was behind you.

"you are?"

he asked you in a low voice as he bent down slightly to get a proper look at you, but out of embarrassment, your adrenaline kicked in and you bolted out of his office. miguel hadn't had a lot of secret admirers before, he didn't think you turning your heel and dashing off was gonna be a response from you—so he ended up calling your name and running after you. "they're too shocking fast!" he exclaimed as he looked around rapidly for you. lyla pinpointed your location, with miguel quickly sprinting over to you to talk to you. "you... certainly gave quite the chase..." he mumbled as you were about to run off again, but miguel acted quickly and grabbed your wrist. "i'm not gonna do... anything to you, you... know that..." he whispered to you breathlessly as he brought you closer to him, making you lean against his broad chest.

you stared deep into his big, hazel eyes—getting all flustered as you got self-conscious and nervous again. miguel placed his hands on your waist, but quickly pulling away and sighing. "i appreciate the gifts, i... i don't know why i'm the one you want to gift with such pretty and tasty things, but... i really do mean that i appreciate them. i can't remember how i got through my days without your generosity..." he said in a quiet voice as he tucked away a lock of your hair behind your ear, making you gasp a little at his gentleness. "...i would appreciate it more, though, if you let yourself be known to me as more than just my 'secret admirer'. i can't believe how lucky i am... such a cute little spider is my secret admirer?" he asked you aloud as his face heated up, his nose nearly poking yours as he brought his face closer to yours.

"guess you're not so much of a secret anymore, hmm?"

he asked you as you shook your head and got even more bashful. he chuckled lightly as you acted all cutely around him again, making it harder for him to resist your inherent charms. "...i was going to confess, but..." you stammered, your hands resting on his chest—feeling the hammering of his heartbeat, making you even more flustered and at a loss for words. "and i'll confess that... you've had my heart since the moment you left those treats at my desk. i know i sound like i'm moving too fast, but i can't help it. you've been an enigma to me, an enigma that i wanted to meet, to hear, listen to, hold and... i've wanted you, and knowing it's, well, you that i want... it's more like i need you now, not just the gifts, to stay happy and content." he admitted as he pressed his chin against your shoulder, humming out a hum of contentment as he held you tighter, making you gasp and cling on to him as you wrapped your arms around his waist to reciprocate his touch.

"will you please... consider that thought for me, mi vida?"

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[alphagodith]

what do we do now?

go get all your vaccines updated asap. they are likely about to be banned.

download all your favorite fanfics from ao3, and any 'adult' content anywhere, as these are likely also about to be banned.

delete period-tracking apps if you have them, get an iud and/or stock up on any other preg-prevent drugs you can, even if you don't CURRENTLY need them. men, get vasectomies. they are reversible and whether you want kids or not, pregnancies can now result in your partner's death far more easily than they should.

if you rely on commissions from online communities, make sure you have many different ways of being reached. diversify.

see if you can get prescription-strength toothpaste prescribed and filled by your dentist. flouride is likely getting removed from water and dental health can directly impact your cardiovascular health as well.

it is now more important than ever to save your money and invest if you can, as social security and other such benefits you may come to rely on in old age are likely going to get canceled. pay off debts early to avoid interest, buy refurbished outdated tech instead of new (it is way cheaper and works just as good if not better than new), don't buy a car that gets less than 45 mpg (priuses do not need to be charged and are lovely), buy used (they work just as well as new, they just don't have useless prestige), buy frozen meals from the grocery store instead of fast food (just as fast to prepare and much cheaper), etc

with public education being abolished, if you have or want kids, i recommend finding and stocking up on educational books and games. you can likely find a lot of them at discount stores like goodwill. even old or slightly outdated texts are better than nothing at all.

get a vpn (i use proton cuz it's free) and switch from google to duckduckgo so you can find life-saving information and help without being tracked by people who want you dead.

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲

𝟭. being consistent in journaling ( 🪻 )

i have recently started journaling more consistently and would like to maintain this line. i tried several times to start, failing miserably, because i couldn't find a method that would keep me motivated for a long time. then i purchased the famous five minutes gratitude journal, which is much easier to keep, and which i manage to update almost every day because by simply having to answer the pre-set questions my brain doesn't experience it as a commitment, unlike writing a diary page. alongside the fmj i have another diary with blank pages that i use as a proper diary, writing my reflections, talking about my day, complaining about negative things and stuff like that. i must say that it's therapeutic. i hope this is the right time i can maintain consistency in writing.

𝟮. having a more balanced diet ( 🍋‍🟩 )

i admit i've been eating like shit lately, a lot of sweets and processed foods alternated with periods of fasting due to guilt with the excuse of not having enough time to cook among the thousand things to do. i want to seriously commit to investing some of my time each week into preparing healthy, homemade meals (i could share some recipes here if you want, lmk) that keep me energized and don't ruin my hard work at the gym by adding empty calories to my diet.

𝟯. being consistent in the gym ( 🍄 )

and then obviously going to the gym at least 3 times a week, not really due to a matter of weight/aesthetics, but to cultivate discipline and focus. i believe that physically venting stress is the best and healthiest way to handle the crushing weight of life lately. sometimes i simply need to unload my energy without throwing a fit and risking venting it on someone who has nothing to do with it.

𝟰. reading at least 10 pages per day ( 📚 )

i love reading. i love reading madly, but i also know that i often find a thousand excuses not to do it. my brain fried by social media and zombie scrolling doesn't like the idea of concentrating on printed pages at all and i always put off reading all those books placed on my shelf gathering dust. i haven't read a book in months, so the time has come to break this bad habit and take back my greatest passion. i won't even mention all the benefits of reading, because only one book can give you so much in such a short time.

𝟱. sleep at least 8 hours ( ☕ )

i think my lack of sleep has a psychological component, but i'm no expert so what i say may not actually make any sense. i sleep little, much less than i need, when i was in high school i finished studying very late at night (past 3am) every day because i was so dependent on academic validation that the idea of getting a slightly lower grade than my usual could make me throw up. the thing is, i always delay going to sleep, even though my body is begging me to do so, and i think it's due to an inherent fear that the next day i'll have to go through it all over again. consequently in the morning i'm a wreck and i have to drag myself out of bed, being 30% as productive as i actually could be. i think it's time to work on my sleep schedule much more seriously, i think it could boost my health a lot.

𝟲. spend 15min in the sun every day ( ☀️ )

as a woman i know how important it is to be in the sun to produce vitamin D, unfortunately for me i'm some kind of goblin vampire who can't stay in the sun for more than five minutes without getting sunburned – on top of that my eyes start to water when the light too strong. i'll arm myself with sunscreen and give my body what it needs, hoping i won't get arthritis in my forties.

let me know in the comments what are YOU planning to improve in the near future <3

[shamandrummer]

The Healing Power of Nature

In the fast-paced modern world, stress and fatigue have become an almost routine part of life. We often find ourselves overwhelmed by deadlines, responsibilities, and constant notifications. And yet, amidst all the chaos, nature offers us a timeless sanctuary--a place where we can breathe, reconnect, and heal. The healing power of nature is undeniable. Whether it's the calming waves of the ocean, the cool shade of a forest, or the breathtaking vista from a mountain peak, nature has a way of quieting our minds and rejuvenating our spirits.

The Science Behind Nature's Healing Effects

Research over the past few decades has shown that spending time in nature has numerous physical and mental health benefits. In fact, doctors in various parts of the world are beginning to "prescribe" time outdoors as a form of treatment. Studies have found that being in natural settings can lower blood pressure, reduce stress hormones, and even improve our immune system. For instance, a study conducted by the University of Exeter found that people who spent at least 120 minutes per week in nature were significantly more likely to report good health and higher psychological well-being than those who didn't.

Our brains are wired to respond positively to natural environments. When we're outside, we experience what scientists call "soft fascination," a state of gentle focus where we can observe our surroundings without being overstimulated. This natural engagement gives our brain the opportunity to rest and reset, which is why even a short walk in the park can leave us feeling refreshed.

Negative Ions Create Positive Vibes

Negative ions are odorless, tasteless, and invisible molecules that we inhale in abundance in certain environments. Think mountains, waterfalls, and beaches. Once they reach our bloodstream, negative ions are believed to produce biochemical reactions that increase levels of the mood chemical serotonin, helping to alleviate depression, relieve stress, and boost our daytime energy. Generally speaking, negative ions increase the flow of oxygen to the brain; resulting in higher alertness, decreased drowsiness, and more mental energy.

Ions are molecules that have gained or lost an electrical charge. They are created in nature as air molecules break apart due to sunlight, radiation, and moving air and water. You may have experienced the power of negative ions when you last set foot on the beach or walked beneath a waterfall. While part of the euphoria is simply being around these wondrous settings and away from the normal pressures of home and work, the air circulating in the mountains and the beach is said to contain tens of thousands of negative ions.

Nature as a Place of Reflection and Connection

Nature has a unique way of putting life into perspective. Watching the sun set over a lake, observing the resilience of a tree that has withstood countless storms, or feeling the energy of a river rushing downstream can make our personal struggles seem smaller, less overwhelming. Nature's rhythms remind us that we, too, are part of something much larger, and this realization can be incredibly grounding and comforting.

Many people find solace in nature during difficult times, whether they're grieving a loss, navigating personal change, or simply feeling overwhelmed. Nature allows us to step outside our usual routines and concerns, offering a chance to reflect and find clarity. And the best part? It's free, accessible, and always there for us.

Practical Ways to Connect with Nature

Embracing nature doesn't require a plane ticket to a remote destination or a major hiking expedition (though those can be wonderful experiences too!). Here are some simple ways to harness the healing power of nature in your everyday life:

Take a Daily Walk: Whether it's a walk in your local park, around your neighborhood, or even a short stroll during your lunch break, getting outside can improve your mood and give your mind a needed break.

Create a Nature Ritual: Make it a point to spend a few moments outside each day with intentionality. Sit on your balcony or in your backyard, or even bring plants into your home if you don't have easy access to nature.

Try "Forest Bathing": This Japanese practice, called shinrin-yoku, involves immersing yourself in the forest, using all your senses to experience the sights, sounds, and smells around you. Studies show that forest bathing can significantly reduce stress and improve mood.

Engage in Outdoor Hobbies: Whether it's gardening, birdwatching, or simply reading a book under a tree, finding an activity that allows you to be outdoors in a relaxed state can be incredibly therapeutic.

Observe the Seasons: Take note of the changes each season brings. Nature's cycles can be a powerful reminder of life's ebb and flow, and observing these transformations can help us feel more connected to the world around us.

The Enduring Power of Nature

There is a simple, universal truth: nature has a way of healing us that nothing else can replicate. We are innately connected to it, whether we realize it or not, and every step we take outdoors is a step towards reconnecting with a deeper part of ourselves. Nature invites us to slow down, breathe, and remember that there is beauty and resilience in the world, no matter the challenges we face.

So next time you're feeling weighed down, consider stepping outside. Let the sun warm your face, listen to the birds, feel the breeze, and know that this world holds an endless capacity for healing. Nature's doors are always open, waiting to remind us of our place in a world that's infinitely beautiful, resilient, and, ultimately, healing.

[brightlotusmoon]

"D-ribose supplements can offer health benefits for those with certain conditions like heart disease, fibromyalgia, or myoadenylate deaminase deficiency (MAD). More research is needed, but emerging studies look promising.

D-ribose is a critically important sugar molecule.

It’s part of your DNA — the genetic material that contains information for all the proteins produced in your body — and also makes up part of your cells’ primary energy source, adenosine triphosphate (ATP).

Though your body naturally produces ribose, some believe that D-ribose supplements can improve health or exercise performance."

_

Years and years ago, my mother suggested Ribose and I completely forgot. My tub of ribose power arrived today and I mixed it in my bedside water bottle.

D-Ribose powder is nifty. It's almost like MSM (methylsulfanomethane). It's odorless, colorless, tasteless, and dissolves fast in liquid.

...where was I? Right, Australia. Anyway, let's see what a daily 5 grams will do.