someonehereforpeaceofmind
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Latest Posts by someonehereforpeaceofmind
I Think About This A Lot To The Point Where It May Be Unhealthy
I'm a bit of a writer, and sometimes I sit reading romantic oneshots and headcannons. And I just get thinking, why does everyone write about 'the first time they met' or 'the first time they kissed' or 'their first valentine's day together'? If it were me, I'd want to read a oneshot titled 'the 315th time they kissed and yet they felt fireworks in their stomachs' or 'the 100th time he hugged me and secretly stole my coffee from the kitchen counter'. I want to read about love persevering. I don't want to read about a guy or a girl who's just fallen heads over heels. I want to read about a couple who has worked their way through the kinks in their relationship, smoothened out the wrinkles, ironed out the problems, and still love each other wholeheartedly. I don't want to read about the first time a guy or girl kisses me. I want to read about the day he kissed me just to distract me from the fact that he was being chased by the police (now wouldn't that be an interesting one?) or the day she stole my car keys because she doesn't have a car and wants to buy groceries for me because I'm tired. I don't want to read about the 'I would cross the world for you, darling' kind of love. I want to read about the 'I would certainly cross the world for you, but only if you're paying for half of it afterwards' kind of love.
I don't want to read about someone falling in love. I want to read about someone working to love someone, earning that love, and making it theirs for the rest of their lives.
Percabeth Summarised
*judo flips* Annabeth when she meets Percy
"Mine, all mine!"
Annabeth when someone else tries to hit on Percy
Kane Siblings Swap
I'm not talking 'what if Sadie was the elder sibling' or 'what if Carter stayed with the Fausts' (which would be impossible, as explained later). I'm saying, what if Carter looked like Ruby, their mom, and Sadie looked like Julius, their dad? Imagine Carter Kane before the first book, our nerdy, obedient, geek of a boy dressed in a button down shirt and slacks, always following up with a suitcase in one hand and NBA stats on the tip of his tongue...with the curliest blonde hair you've ever seen and light skin and eyes blue enough to rival the sky? Imagine Sadie Kane before the first book, our rebellious, confident girl with combat boots and attitude ready for absolutely anything...with red streaks in brown hair and dark brown skin and warm brown eyes that are always filled with fire?
It's always specified in the books that Carter was discriminated against and his dad always told him to dress properly to never give anyone an excuse to be racist. Even if Carter wasn't dark anymore, I'm pretty sure Julius would still want his son dressed impeccably. And the fact that people always got confused when Sadie, Carter and their dad went out (is heartbreaking) doesn't change. It just becomes more frequent, seeing as Carter, who looks like his mum, is with his dad permanently. Everyone they met, at dig sites, museums, ceremonies, hotels, would be confused for a split second. And Carter, honestly, would go through what Sadie describes in the Red Pyramid. An African-American who doesn't look African. And for Sadie, well, that's another story altogether. It's specified rather clearly in the books that the Fausts never liked Carter because he resembled his dad. Can you imagine them getting Sadie, who is only one gamete short of being a carbon copy of her dad? I'm not saying they'd hate her. I trust them enough (I hope think) to still love Sadie because she has her mother's spirit and Ruby is really reflected in our little Kane girl. But I can imagine them flinching every time they see Sadie and her dad standing together, because damn, they look similar. They wouldn't hate her, but a part of them would never truly accept her. And she'd still be as rebellious as ever. Blue streaks in the midst of chocolate coloured hair? She's up for it. But then, instead of Carter, she'd go through the racism that Rick's described. (I am purely quoting the Red Pyramid here, because I personally have no experience of racism and don't want to comment much on something I don't know much about). But she would have to face it.
In summary, the idea just seems really cool to me, and yes, I believe that the House of Life would still influence the court case and give Carter to Julius, since he's the elder one, regardless of any skin tone. It would just be cool to see Sadie vibing with their mom while looking like her dad and Carter and their dad travelling the world, proving stereotypes wrong and being an amazing biracial father son duo.
Tips for writing flawed but lovable characters.
Flawed characters are the ones we root for, cry over, and remember long after the story ends. But creating a character who’s both imperfect and likable can feel like a tightrope walk.
1. Flaws That Stem From Their Strengths
When a character’s greatest strength is also their Achilles' heel, it creates depth.
Strength: Fiercely loyal.
Flaw: Blind to betrayal or willing to go to dangerous extremes for loved ones.
“She’d burn the whole world down to save her sister—even if it killed her.”
2. Let Their Flaws Cause Problems
Flaws should have consequences—messy, believable ones.
Flaw: Impatience.
Result: They rush into action, ruining carefully laid plans.
“I thought I could handle it myself,” he muttered, staring at the smoking wreckage. “Guess not.”
3. Show Self-Awareness—or Lack Thereof
Characters who know they’re flawed (but struggle to change) are relatable. Characters who don’t realize their flaws can create dramatic tension.
A self-aware flaw: “I know I talk too much. It’s just… silence makes me feel like I’m disappearing.” A blind spot: “What do you mean I always have to be right? I’m just better at solving problems than most people!”
4. Give Them Redeeming Traits
A mix of good and bad keeps characters balanced.
Flaw: They’re manipulative.
Redeeming Trait: They use it to protect vulnerable people.
“Yes, I lied to get him to trust me. But he would’ve died otherwise.”
Readers are more forgiving of flaws when they see the bigger picture.
5. Let Them Grow—But Slowly
Instant redemption feels cheap. Characters should stumble, fail, and backslide before they change.
Early in the story: “I don’t need anyone. I’ve got this.”
Midpoint: “Okay, fine. Maybe I could use some help. But don’t get used to it.”
End: “Thank you. For everything.”
The gradual arc makes their growth feel earned.
6. Make Them Relatable, Not Perfect
Readers connect with characters who feel human—messy emotions, bad decisions, and all.
A bad decision: Skipping their best friend’s wedding because they’re jealous of their happiness.
A messy emotion: Feeling guilty afterward but doubling down to justify their actions.
A vulnerable moment: Finally apologizing, unsure if they’ll be forgiven.
7. Use Humor as a Balancing Act
Humor softens even the most prickly characters.
Flaw: Cynicism.
Humorous side: Making snarky, self-deprecating remarks that reveal their softer side.
“Love? No thanks. I’m allergic to heartbreak—and flowers.”
8. Avoid Overdoing the Flaws
Too many flaws can make a character feel unlikable or overburdened.
Instead of: A character who’s selfish, cruel, cowardly, and rude.
Try: A character who’s selfish but occasionally shows surprising generosity.
“Don’t tell anyone I helped you. I have a reputation to maintain.”
9. Let Them Be Vulnerable
Vulnerability adds layers and makes flaws understandable.
Flaw: They’re cold and distant.
Vulnerability: They’ve been hurt before and are terrified of getting close to anyone again.
“It’s easier this way. If I don’t care about you, then you can’t leave me.”
10. Make Their Flaws Integral to the Plot
When flaws directly impact the story, they feel purposeful rather than tacked on.
Flaw: Their arrogance alienates the people they need.
Plot Impact: When their plan fails, they’re left scrambling because no one will help them.
Flawed but lovable characters are the backbone of compelling stories. They remind us that imperfection is human—and that growth is possible.
Help a Family in Need
I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is facing one of the most challenging times of his life. Mohamad is 37 years old and left his homeland in 2015 in search of a safer and better future. He’s a kind, hardworking man, and his small family has always been his greatest priority.
Living abroad, Mohamad has recently endured unimaginable loss and financial strain. Amidst the ongoing conflict in his homeland, his mother passed away, leaving behind his sister and her five young children—the last remaining members of his immediate family.
As the situation worsened, Mohamad managed to help his sister and her children escape to safety in Egypt, covering their immediate needs and securing a temporary refuge for them. Since then, he has been fully responsible for providing everything they need to survive during this transition.
In his efforts to support his family and cope with this devastating loss, Mohamad has found himself deeply in debt. To make matters even more difficult, he recently underwent knee surgery, which limits his ability to return to work for the foreseeable future. This has made it even harder for him to manage his financial responsibilities and the pressing need to provide his family with a stable future.
Mohamad is now working to bring his sister and her five children to join him in Belgium, where he hopes they can find stability and opportunity after all they’ve endured. This transition, however, requires significant resources that he is currently unable to meet alone.
For privacy reasons, we are not sharing Mohamad’s full name, as he has chosen to keep his identity discreet. While he initially refused the idea of asking for help, I couldn’t stand by and watch him struggle alone. I insisted on doing this for him because he deserves a chance to overcome these challenges.
Your contribution will help Mohamad repay the debt incurred during this difficult time, cover ongoing living expenses for his family, and assist with the costs involved in bringing them safely to Belgium.
Mohamad has been a good friend of mine for years, and I’ve always admired his resilience and generosity. Any support, no matter the size, will make an incredible difference in helping Mohamad and his family rebuild their lives after these painful experiences.
Thank you for reading his story and considering helping a man who has always done everything he can for his loved ones.
Adam
✅ Vetted by Association: @bilal-salah0
Donate & share: Donation Link
This Should Really Be Canon
"Hey, Annabeth?" Percy asked, poking his head into his bedroom, where his girlfriend was sitting cross-legged on the floor, solving some papers. "Yeah?" she asked without looking up as Percy plopped himself down next to her. "How long will you be staying?" The question made her pause, before she turned, eyes roving over Percy's look. "You see this?" she said quietly, raising her hand and twirling her finger around the only gray streak of hair in Percy's raven black head of hair. Her matching grey streak glinted in the sunlight as Percy's eyes darted up to where her finger was. "I'm going to stay with you till this one turns grey," her finger moved to twirl the neighbouring obsidian lock around it, "and this one," her finger went to the next one, "and this, till all of them match this one," her finger went back to the original grey strand, the only one in his hair, "I'll stay with you till we're both old and have grey hairs and I'll stay with you beyond that too."
Percy looked touched, warmth and surprise mingling in his sea green eyes, before he muttered sheepishly, "I was kind of referring to how long you'll stay at my place, 'cause Mom's asking if you're waiting till dinner-" "Oh my gods, Percy! You could have asked that better!" "What? I just asked how long you'll be staying!" "I thought you meant-forget it." "But, wait-" "Forget it." "Wise Girl-" "Forget it before I refuse to solve your papers." "Hold on, so...you'll stay with me forever?" "...of course, Seaweed Brain."
apollo getting a combat ukulele
me, with a ukulele too:
I am an absolute fangirl for these 2 siblings (❁´◡`❁)
Carter and Sadie Kane doodles 👀? 🙏🙏🙏
we love the kane siblings in this household
This Is Personally My Opinion, But...
WARNING : Moana 2 Spoilers ahead
Who agrees that Moana is starting to become a LOT like Percy jackson?
First quest, removes the negativity from a bad god and makes them good(ish) Te Ka -> Te Fiti Ares / Hades -> Knocks down Ares' ego by a decent bit / Removes Hades from suspicion
And by the time the first movie is over, Moana's 'got all the gods talking', in Matangi's words. Percy Jackson did pretty much the same.
Zeus, the King of the Gods, god of skies and thunder, hates Percy. Nalo, the god of storms and lightning, hates Moana. See any similarities?
Artemis, a fierce huntress and daughter of Zeus, dislikes Zeus' ways, takes a liking to Percy. Matangi, a powerful bat demigoddess who's a subordinate of Nalo, wishes to overthrow Nalo, takes a liking to Moana. Tamatoa, a crab who talks with the gods themselves, was humiliated and hates Moana. ...everyone knows Percy's humiliated more than enough minor gods and is on the top of every monster's bucket list of 'Demigods I Wish To Devour'.
Percy has a bestie named Frank Zhang, a big strong guy who can turn into animals. Moana has Maui, who needs no description.
Percy has Leo, a crazy tinkerer who's the best mechanic to be found and fights with a hammer. Moana has Loto, who's just the same.
And thus, I rest my case that Moana is 100% a daughter or descendant of Poseidon, and that she and Percy should be siblings with a knack for gathering the undivided hate of all the gods. (I would die to see that AU made canon)
And, as a final point?
They both have adorable little sisters.
This is Literally A Mood
Jason Grace: If you could ask the gods for one gift, what would it be?
Frank Zhang : Peace of mind
Carter Kane : Knowledge
Magnus Chase: Love and family
Percy : Blue food
Frank Zhang : Percy, you're asking for a gift from the gods-
Percy : Blue food
It is true, if you think about it
Chiron : (teaching English) 'The pen is mightier than the sword.' Can anyone tell me why?
Young Annabeth : Because pens are easier to sneak through metal detectors.
Chiron : NO
"You're here to look at the werewolves?!" the lady at the counter looks baffled out of her mind. You're already petrified, having had to develop all the courage you possessed to even walk up to her and say that. It's not like your intention to adopt a werewolf was lacking, it was just that your confidence in your own self was diminishing with the stunned look on the receptionist's face.
You nod, swallowing down the panicky overthinking in your brain, clutching your bag strap tighter for help. The lady still looks like she hasn't heard you right.
"Y-you want a werewolf pup?" she asks, face paling ever so slightly.
"It's cub, not pup," you automatically correct, before flushing a bit in embarrassment. You were a journalist, after all. Grammar was your first priority over everything else.
"Why?" she asks, almost incredulously.
"Is it wrong to want to serve society?" you raise an eyebrow at her continued surprise, feeling your sarcasm come out. You weren't eager to delve into the real reason behind your trip with a stranger.
"I-well-alright then, I suppose, I'll show you to the werewolf pup- I mean, cubs' den," the lady says with uncertainty, getting up from her seat behind the counter. Her flat heels click irregularly on the tiled floor as she keeps glancing back at you when you follow her, as if concerned that you'd magically disappear.
"Here it is," she nods, stopping in front of a two-way mirror that offered a view into a room that's big enough to house an elephant.
You really have to give credit to the orphanage management, because for all the fear that humans possess concerning werewolves, they certainly did their best to recreate the little canines' natural environment for maximum comfort. Two large dark faux trees are in two corners, and the false roots made of plaster of paris cover the floor, creating an uneven ground for the cubs to climb and run over. A large rocky outcrop sheds a corner of the room, where blankets that look like leaves and soft mattresses that look like rocks make a sleeping area for the cubs.
"We're not trying to treat them like animals," the receptionist says quickly, seeing your surprised expression, "It's just that, most of them come fresh from the forest, when their parents are killed by illegal werewolf hunters. So when we try to introduce them to human environments, they resist and struggle. It's more comfortable for them to be in this man-made natural environment."
You nod again, understanding the concept. Werewolf hunting has been made illegal decades ago, ever since humans and werewolves struck the bond that decreed that neither species would harm each other. But that doesn't stop certain people of the ancient beliefs from venturing out and hunting them down.
There's about 8 cubs around the room. 2 are cuddled up in a corner, sleeping with their arms tightly around each other. They look like perfectly normal humans, perhaps 5 years old, one in a dress and the other in a shirt and shorts.
"Those are the twins- Toby and Thalia. They're the youngest in the group," the receptionist says, following your gaze.
"Who's that adventurous one on the tree?" you ask, a mirthful smile playing on your lips as you watch one elder cub jump and grab one of the lower-hanging branches, swinging himself up with difficulty.
"That's Alex. He's always been like that. I'm afraid his story is a bit tragic. He's been kicked out of 5 foster homes already," the receptionist says, expression softening. You can empathise with her. Even if humans feared werewolves, it didn't nullify the natural sympathy and compassion that welled up in every being's heart.
"Oh no, he's wolfing out," the receptionist suddenly says in a panic, looking into the room with concern.
You look in and realise that one of the cubs is lying on the floor, curled up in foetal position, shaking and crying. The others are around him, trying to see if they can help, offering him leaves or rocks.
"I need to get the vet," the receptionist says hurriedly, rushing down the corridor, and you really have to appreciate her for being able to run at such speed in heels. You look back into the room, and see the kid struggling, the first signs of grey fur blossoming over his scalp. He's in pain, hands shuddering, face shining with a sheen of sweat, breath coming out in short, rapid gasps. Your heart wrenches as you see the poor boy turning into a werewolf so painfully, and instinctively, you walk around to the door, yank it open, and rush to the cub.
The others make way for you in surprise. Most of them are below the age of 9, but one of them is 13.
"Who are you?" she asks, standing in your way, doubt and suspicion making her voice caustic.
"I'm here to help," you raise your hands in surrender, "Your friend there needs help."
"He has all the help he needs with us," the girl says firmly, folding her arms, glaring up at you with intensity and fierceness.
You sigh in frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose. You were never great at handling kids, having always been overly blunt and awkward. Handling werewolf children seemed out of your territory. You're starting to really doubt if you could handle adopting a werewolf cub seeing your inability to even talk to one normally without getting annoyed.
"He's in pain, isn't he? What are you doing to help him?" you ask dryly, putting your hands on your knees to bend down to her level.
"Whatever it is, it's better than what you humans tend to do," the girl hisses, "All you do is kill our parents and then leave us here to grow up alone and disloved."
"Unloved," you correct instinctively, before realising your mistake and feeling like an idiot. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to correct you-" you try to say quickly, but the girl looks like she's going to burst into indignant tears.
"You're so mean!" she cries, "You humans are so rude and mean to us! What have we ever done to you?"
You wince, wishing you could take back your words and approach this situation more tactfully. But you can see the young cub still struggling behind the girl, and your heart chides your brain mentally for being an idiot.
"Look, sweetheart," you sigh, kneeling down, deciding to be honest, "I have nothing against you. I came here so I could bring one of you home and make that special little cub the most cherished child on the planet. I'm not here to harm you, or be mean. I'm terribly sorry for reprimanding you earlier, but if I don't help your friend now, he could be in serious trouble. Please?"
The girl looks uncertain, and she probably didn't understand half the words you said, but she moves aside, and you sigh in relief as you quickly get up and rush over to the shaking boy.
"Okay sweetheart, listen to me," you say, pulling the shaking cub the straight way up. He's so thin and small as he's wolfing out, he fits in your lap. You sit cross-legged on the forest floor of the room, pulling him properly into your lap and cradling him in your arms. His ragged, warm breath hits your neck as you hug him close, trying to give him comfort.
"Listen to me, can you hear me? I'm here to help. Can you hear me, darling? Just nod, can you understand me?" you whisper softly away from his ear, so that his sensitive werewolf hearing wouldn't magnify your voice a hundred times.
He nods softly, whimpering as the fur covers his arms and his bones start melding and changing.
"Alright, so, can you tell me three things that you can see?" you whisper.
He shakes his head, wincing and shivering as his shoes fall off, claws growing from his small toenails.
"Okay, okay, never mind. I've heard that your hearing is very good. Can you tell me three things that you can hear?" you ask, changing your tactic the second he stops responding.
He's hesitant, but he slowly whispers, "I can hear your breathing. I...I can hear everyone else's heartbeats. I...I can hear...the wind outside the window..."
"Okay, keep going. Don't think about what's happening to your body, just listen. Tune into everything that's going on outside," you say in the hopes of distracting him.
"There's people outside. Two people...are running here...They're still far...the tiles are loud...the human babies are wailing...everything's so loud all of a sudden..." he whines, covering his rapidly enlarging ears.
"It's alright, focus on the soft voices, sweetheart. Focus on our heartbeats. Listen to your friends' heartbeats. Isn't it calming?" you whisper, cradling him closer. He sniffles, fully covered in fur now, yet he doesn't look like a typical werewolf.
"I-It is," he hiccups, snout snuggling into your soft shirt for comfort, "They're regular. They're...nice."
"Then focus on those. They're periodic, 72 beats per minute. Time your breathing with that. One breath in every..um, 15 beats. Can you do that for me?" you say, hugging his head closer and ignoring the in-house vet and receptionist who've just rushed into the room and look as shell-shocked as if you yourself had become a werewolf.
He nods, and you count slowly for him. Gradually, he shifts from listening to his friends' heartbeats to listening to your words. His breathing evens out as the transformation completes.
You'd expected a wolf cub, at the very least. But the little creature whom you're holding in your arms is nothing more than a puppy. He's almost asleep, comfortable in your arms, tired after his first transformation.
You look up at the other children in confusion, not bothering to question the vet. "Are all of you like this in werewolf form?" you ask slowly, not wanting to startle them. The cub in your arms is a little grey puppy. Yes, he has wolfish characteristics. But if anyone had seen this little adorable fluff-ball on the streets, they wouldn't hesitate in petting his head and feeding him treats.
"Of course," Alex nods.
"I thought...werewolves were, you know, werewolves," you frown a bit.
"That's a very outdated notion," the vet speaks up, catching everyone's gaze, "Due to intermingling of werewolves with humans and other species, the original characteristics of werewolves are quite lost."
"So you're telling me that people are afraid of these cute little babies?" you raise an eyebrow, still hugging the boy in your lap close to you.
The vet and the receptionist hesitate. They're clearly not used to such an abnormal response, and you sigh in annoyance, facing the cubs instead.
"So none of you become ravenous or blood-hungry on full moons?" you ask carefully.
"Never," the eldest girl scoffs, "We don't even always turn on full moons. All the mixing of bloods has really messed up our schedules."
"Ma'am, you can give Lucius to us now-"
"No."
The receptionist falters, hands retracting as she offered to take the boy from you. "I'm sorry?"
"I said 'no'," you repeat, a firm look on your face, "I'm keeping him. I'm adopting Lucius."
"Oh, alright then. Should we begin with the-"
"I'm not finished," you interrupt, having no idea where your sudden burst of confidence has come from, although you have a lurking suspicion that it has come from your renewed determination to improve the lives of innocent werewolves.
"I'm keeping Lucius. And Toby. And Thalia. And Alex. And all the others," you say, the glare in your eyes daring her to challenge you.
She looks mind-blown, to say the least, as if her most outrageous dream had come alive before her eyes. The vet looks...concerned for your health.
You almost worry that she's going to stop you, when she suddenly gives a small smile.
"Alright, Ma'am. Shall we begin with the formalities?"
__________________________________________________________
"Mom, mom, mom," Lucius is all but yanking your short burgundy hair, desperate to get your attention.
"If the house is not burning to pieces, I don't want to be woken up," you groan, covering your face with the pillow as you try to fall back asleep.
"Mom, come on, please please pleaseeee, just wake up," Fariah whines, begging you and shaking you.
"Alright, alright, you little tricksters, I'm awake," you laugh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as Fariah pulls you up to sit on the bed.
"Mom, come on, we need to ask you something for our school project, " Toby says quickly, and Thalia smacks him upside the head.
"You dunce! You weren't supposed to tell Mom so quickly!" she hisses at him, feeling proud for having learnt a new way to call her twin a stupid person after reading some of your more lazily written articles.
"Thalia, I'm happy about the vocabulary expansion, but we agreed that your twin is not a dunce," you say strictly, raising an eyebrow. Thalia murmurs 'sorry' to Toby, who looks annoyed that she smacked him on the head. Even though the twins are both 13, Thalia's just an inch taller, and she wastes no opportunity in bullying her twin because of it.
"So, what do you need for your school project?" you ask, pulling up your legs to sit cross-legged on the bed.
"I don't need it," Lucius says haughtily, "The twins and Fariah need it."
Lucius has been on Cloud 9 ever since he turned 14 and he got to officially announce to the world that he was older than the others.
"Alright, alright," you laugh, "What do you need?"
"Well, Mom," Fariah starts, nervously twiddling her thumbs, "Our hearing is always a hundred times better than yours. And...we can never hear your heartbeat. So, we were wondering, why can we hear everyone's heartbeat but yours?"
You know that this is not a school project. That was just an excuse for your kids to ask you a question that had probably been gnawing at them for days now. You breathe out heavily, knowing you'd have to answer the question someday.
"I was stabbed once," you admit softly, pulling Toby close to you so he could hear more clearly, "I was in the forest, hiking, and I came across this...madman. Drunk. Raving. Blind as a bat with rage over something trivial. He had a knife, and before I could even attempt to get away, he stabbed me right in the heart."
"It was painful, yes. I couldn't feel anything, and I could sense the life draining out of me. The guy was probably going to stab me again, when someone else burst into the scene. He shoved the guy away and threw him off me. He sent the guy crying for his mama. I didn't even realise what had happened - the suddenness of it was too disorienting. I was on my knees, gasping for breath, when he saved me. I must have passed out, because when I woke up, I was in a cot, wound stitched up and bandaged. He had brought me to his home and healed me. I was forever indebted to him for saving my life. I had to spend some days in his home itself because I still didn't have the strength to walk on my own from all the blood loss. In those few days, I fell for him harder than I have fallen for any other person. He was the strongest and kindest person I had ever met, and he felt the same way. He shared his struggles with me, and I shared mine. We were madly in love, I'm afraid," you give a wry chuckle, "But...his solution to my heart was only temporary. I needed proper medical treatment if I were to live. I told him that I could get to the hospital on my own, that he'd get into trouble if he came with me. But he insisted, and he took me to the hospital as my heart literally failed. He was so scared that I wouldn't make it, and I was so scared that he'd get blamed for what happened to me. Unfortunately, only one of our fears came true," you smile sadly, cuddling Toby's back closer to you.
The cubs are quiet, wondering how this love story was related to your heartbeat. You realise that you'd deviated madly from the topic and quickly correct yourself, "So, I had to get a pacemaker and a whole lot of transplants and transfusions. It took me 5 months just to get out of bed without my heart being overexerted. The reason you can't hear my heartbeat is because the pacemaker is too low for your ears."
"Why did the guy you liked get blamed for what happened to you?" Lucius asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern.
"Nobody believed him," you shrug, giving a rue smile, "By the time I got out of the hospital, it was too late for me to help him in any way. No one even told me where he was, what happened to him, where they took him. All I know is that he was punished for no fault of his..."
It's been 10 years since it took place, yet your heart always burns in your chest as you recount it. The cubs look sad and confused, so you try to cheer them.
"But in a way, it also turned out to be a small blessing in disguise. Because after that, I decided to visit the orphanage to adopt certain children. And guess who God gave me?" you ask teasingly, grinning.
"Us!" Fariah declares happily, her innocent sweet 11 year old voice making you laugh.
"Yes, I got you little munchkins," you laugh, tickling her so she giggles and falls on the bed on your lap beside Toby.
"But how did his punishment lead to you deciding to adopt werewolves?" Thalia asks, tilting her head and cocking her ear up in the air to hear your answer better.
"Sweetheart," you smile softly, "Even though a human stabbed me and nearly stopped my heart forever, the one who really stole my heart was a werewolf."
When you adopted an orphaned werewolf cub, you expected to end up with a ravening blood-thirsty monster. Instead, you ended up with a fairly normal kid who occasionally becomes an adorable puppy.
WARNING : Contains themes of self-hate, mild suicidal mention if you squint hard enough, and enough depression to give a dog a heart attack
"Yourself?" the alchemist raises an eyebrow behind his wire-rimmed frames.
You swallow, feeling embarrassed already, but nod.
"Yes, um, they're for me," you answer hesitantly, trying not to let him see how awkward you're feeling.
The alchemist surveys you with an unrecognisable emotion in his eyes that's either disgust or concern or confusion. Or probably even a mix of all 3. You really have no clue. Either ways, it makes you feel like you're being literally dissected and observed from every point of view possible, and you squirm uncomfortably in the chair.
"You know how love potions work, am I right?" the alchemist asks, and you almost jump in your seat as he speaks after what feels like an eternity.
"Um, right, yes! I, uh, the person you like drinks it and then, if you're the first person he or she sees, they fall in love with you," you recite quickly. You had memorised the line off Wikipedia from the number of times you'd contemplated using a love potion.
The alchemist gives you another deep, profound look, before delivering the very line you'd dreaded hearing from the moment you came up with the stupid plan, "It's not going to work."
You sigh in resignation, slumping forward and burying your face in your palms.
"Why not?" you ask quietly, forgetting to hide the tremble in your voice.
"Because the only person who can make you love yourself is you yourself," he says, and you look up, confused.
"What? Do you really think I don't know that? That I haven't tried?" you ask, getting mildly pissed, "I have tried so many times, for so many years, to love myself. You think I don't want to feel confident? To feel amazing about myself for once? To feel like, it's okay to be alive? You think I don't wish I was like the other people? You think I don't wish I were someone who doesn't want to claw her eyeballs out everytime she gets reminded of how imperfect she is? I've tried, Doctor, I have tried everything. I tried encouraging myself. I tried not to think negatively about myself. I tried to keep myself motivated. I tried to talk it out with friends, family, to keep myself away from drastic measures. But no one, NO ONE is ever there to watch me sob in bed at 2 a.m because I'm just a huge bloody mess. I have done my best to act as my own therapist for years and years now, and it doesn't work. How am I supposed to convince myself that I'm worthy of survival? That I'm not just a waste of time, space and money? You think I don't know, that the only person who can love myself truly is me? You think I don't want that?!"
You have to admit, the alchemist had nerves of steel to just sit there and observe you calmly as you ranted angrily in front of him. He gives you a few seconds to calm down and silently offers you a glass of water.
"Sorry," you try to apologise after the outburst, immediately feeling ashamed, but he shakes his head.
"Don't be sorry. It's a common experience for those who feel self-hatred to want to lash out occassionally and wish they were different," he says with all the calmness of a gentle ocean breeze.
"...so, why won't the love potion work?" you ask carefully.
"Because the love potion only makes people's emotions towards you change. It can't change your emotions. If you don't like yourself, you can't drink it and expect your emotions to change," the alchemist says. He's still simply sitting behind his desk, elbows resting on the polished rosewood desk, fingers interlocked below his chin, his gaze on you.
You sigh, disappointed. "Alright then, I suppose this was just a waste...Thank you for your time." You stand, about to leave and go home and despair about another failed plan, when he stops you.
"I may not be a therapist," he says suddenly just as your hand grips the cold steel handle of the door, "But I can still give suggestions."
You pause, facing the door. Half of you wants to leave and never return again, but the better half of you forces you to stay, even if you're still facing the door.
"Like what?" you ask, and your voice is so fragile, so brittle, begging for hope and love and acceptance, a voice so dangerously close to being pushed over the edge, a voice that's screaming for help, even if you'll never admit it. As you turn to face the alchemist, he can see the pain in your eyes as you rebuke yourself mentally for ever being here, the dread in the taut lines of your face as you mentally scold yourself for troubling the alchemist with your petty problems, the resignation in your pursed mouth as you wait for him to deliver advice that you've probably heard all your life.
"I know, there's clearly not much that I can say that will ever possibly make you feel better. I know, trust me. I've seen others go down that rabbit hole before too. And...the only thing that helps? Forgetting it exists. Get to work. Get to life. Work. Eat. Sleep. Study. Meet friends. Have fun. And for a while, forget your problems. I'm no therapist. I don't know what you're supposed to say to a person going through absence of self-esteem. But distracting yourself and reminding yourself that life's not all about you can make you better. It may not drag away the problems. It may not make you feel awesome all of a sudden. But it can give you a break. A resting period, where you can gather your strength once again to fight your battles. Just stop thinking for a while, and be busy."
You're surprised. You thought he'd tell you some amazing life secret that nobody knew that could magically fix your problems. Hey, miracles do happen now and then.
But instead, he just tells you to be busy.
For a second, you're annoyed, and you're about to tell him that you're a very busy person as it is.
But then you get what he means.
He meant to be so engrossed in living life, that you forget about your problems now and then. Your mind can freshen itself to face the problems of your heart another day. He meant that you should be so concentrated in working, relaxing, enjoying, laughing, smiling, speaking, that your brain doesn't get the time to hate yourself. He meant that you should live your life in your own way to the fullest, so that even if you hate yourself, you can never say that you didn't give life a shot. That even if you hate yourself and don't think you deserve to exist, the one good thing you managed to do was live life to the best of it.
And somehow, even though you still hate yourself, even though you still wish you were never born, you manage to offer the alchemist a small smile. A smile with hope, acceptance, and the determination to keep moving on. A smile that holds the courage to face the world and yourself with renewed vigour. A smile that holds all the pain of a person drowning in self-hate, yet also holding the joy of a person who knows what to do.
"Thank you, Doctor. I guess I didn't need the love potion after all."
“You have to understand, the use of love potions is both morally gross and legally r-”, you interrupt the alchemist, and say the potion is meant for yourself.
WHAT IF...
So, I saw this one post about how Hans looks a hella lot more like Rapunzel and Eugene than any other character. There was a theory that Hans could be Rapunzel and Eugene's kid, but then that theory obviously got blown out of the water due to that one coronation scene where Rapunzel herself attends the coronation.
BUT
What if...
Hans WAS Rapunzel and Eugene's kid? What if, in the future, when Anna gets married and has children, her child attacks Corona, Rapunzel's kingdom? We've all seen classic examples of kids not taking after their parents, and this could very well be a good example. What if her kid killed the royal family - Rapunzel, Eugene, their other kids (Hans' brothers), and only Hans managed to escape? What if he went to the one tower where his mother had told him that she had been imprisoned? What if the horse who helped him escape despite being stabbed in the side, took him to the same place where it had taken Eugene all those years ago? What if Maximus, while helping Hans escape with his dying breaths, took him to Rapunzel's tower? What if Hans buried the horse after its death and climbed into the tower?
We've all seen that scene where Rapunzel reads the same 3 books again and again. But there's more books on the shelves. What if those were the books that Mother Gothel used to learn witchcraft? What if HANS learns witchcraft? He's in the tower, miserable, defeated, but he knows this place holds some strange importance. He goes into rooms, and finds the books. Wanting to distract himself from his present helpless situation, he reads, reads, reads, and learns witchcraft? What if he finally realises that the key to saving his kingdom need not lie in meaningless battle, but in going back in time and stopping it from ever happening? What if he learns magic and sorcery, so that he can go back in time? He knows he can't kill Anna, that would be ruthless (im imagining him as a good person here). So he decides to woo Anna instead into marrying him.
So that the child of Anna that destroys his kingdom never existed.
Hans obviously has good genes that make him look young, since he's Rapunzel's child. He could easily pass off as a much younger man than he looks. He plans to use his witchcraft to travel back in time to Elsa's coronation, and marry innocent Anna himself. It might cost him a lot, but his family and kingdom would be saved.
By the end of Frozen, he realises that Anna and Elsa are going to die.
And he realises that that could be the key to saving Corona.
Because while using so much magic, his sanity has snapped. Everything has a price, and the price of him learning magic was his humane conscience.
Which is why, by the end of the movie, he's ready to let Anna and Elsa die, so that their ancestors are never born.
Does the world of Tumblr accept my ridiculous headcannon?