#*Well... that's not entirely true... *But the doctor rarely removes a piece unless the piece's manager requests their removal. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

facethroughthemirror · 6 years ago

Text

Face Reality

Characters: Donald Doyle, Dr. Grey Relationships: Doyle/Grey

They've been shoved into the same living space, at least for the night. It's probably due to the fact that they're both Federal officers and Kimball doesn't care much for finding them separate quarters, though it's not as though it's at all improper at this point, anyhow. The good doctor has been... off... since they've gotten to the New Republic's base of operations. The general finds out why when he catches sight of her face.

For day two of @rvbrarepairweek, and crossposted on ao3!

"Emily, I can't tell you how happy I am that you're alright... L-Locus told me there were no survivors at your outpost!"

They've been shoved into the same living space, at least for the night. It's probably due to the fact that they're both Federal officers and Kimball doesn't care much for finding them separate quarters, though it's not as though it's at all improper at this point, anyhow. He's turned politely away from her, looking away as she removes at least her plate armor. He finds it slightly more respectful, though he's not sure she really cares, and again, it's hardly inappropriate.

"Well, I imagine there were no surviving soldiers when he left! And I don't know that he saw me at all. I'm just glad you weren't there!"

Emily sounds as chipper as usual, but she's not fooling him for a moment. She's been... off... since they've gotten to the New Republic's base of operations.

"... Are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine, General Doyle!"

Ah, right. Formal terms of address, at least on her end: there could be sensitive ears nearby. Neither of them trust the rebels not to spy on them, it seems. And at this stage, he, at least, would prefer to keep their level of familiarity as concealed as possible, particularly from the rebels. After her death being reported to him in no uncertain terms, along with those of the Reds and Blues, he's just happy to see her alive, and hearing her voice. What she says at the moment is far less important to him right now than the fact that she's here and alive to say it.

He hears her set down more of her armor, stacking it all together beside the small cot they'll be sharing for the night, and when the sounds stop, he finally turns back around. She's hasn't taken off her undersuit, neither of them will, and she appears to be digging in her kit for something. He wanders around her, to start placing his own armor out of the way for the night, but stops when he catches sight of her face.

The poor thing has always been pale, probably from lack of sunlight and her exquisitely poor sleep schedule. She would still have her lovely pale olive complexion, he's sure, if she'd ever gotten a reasonable amount of sunlight. Her paleness isn't what concerns him, and even though her dark circles are somehow worse than the last time he'd seen her, those don't bother him either.

What does frighten him are the freshly-stitched-up wounds on her face that stretch up and out from the corners of her mouth, across the soft part of her cheeks.

The stitching is undoubtedly her own work: she's given him stitches before and these look virtually identical. And heaven knows he's no physician, from the irritation around the edges of the stitches and of the wounds, he thinks they could be very recent. Good heavens, did she really sew up her own face?! She must have done that looking into a mirror, or something reflective, there's no way she did it blind... lord, he doesn't suspect that she'd had much access to anesthetic on the run, he certainly hopes that she managed to find some... goodness he feels a little sick just thinking about it. But of course he can't let her know that: the poor thing's probably in enough pain, even though she's somehow still smiling. So broadly that it must be agony for her. She doesn't need to distract herself with the worry that he might faint.

"... Oh Emily..."

"... Please go away, General Doyle." She turns her face away from him, and he sees her tipping antiseptic of some sort onto a scrap of gauze. Probably to clean up the area a little better, if she hadn't been able to do it on the run with the Reds and Blues. The formal term of address actually stings this time. "You don't need to see this! I'll only be a moment with this."

"A-Absolutely not! I'm not going anywhere!" He isn't entirely sure where she expects him to go in the first place, but he isn't going to argue with her on that. "Good lord, are you alright?! What happened to you?!"

"It isn't that bad!" She starts to dab at her face with the gauze, gently cleaning the stitches and the wounds they're closing. "I've certainly treated worse."

"You've treated worse than this on other people, not yourself!" He rests his hand on her arm to stop her movement. He sits down beside her on the cot, pulls his forearm pieces and gloves off, carefully takes the gauze from her, and picks up where she left off. "... here, dear, let me help with that."

Her hands fall limply into her lap, and she doesn't move again. Doesn't wince, and he doesn't even notice whether she blinks or not. He bites his lip, and his heart stings when he notices tears welling up in her eyes. When one starts to escape, he catches it with the back of his finger before it can reach her injury. He finally sets the gauze aside, pulls her into a tight hug and keeps her held close for a long, long moment. She's still smiling, but he can see the blankness in her eyes. She must be teetering on the very edges of her "happy place." She doesn't function very well out of it, though she's rarely out of it anymore. He doesn't understand exactly how Emily's "happy place" works, but she's, unfortunately, stuck there. At some point, it stopped being her reacting inappropriately to situations by smiling and laughing, and it became rare not to hear her sounding terrifyingly happy about amputating limbs and dissecting corpses. He didn't know how to help her, at first, and now, he doesn't know how she'll function after the war, but that's honestly the least of their concerns at the moment. He doesn't even know if there will be an "after the war."

She doesn't really react to the hug, at first, just moves her arms ever so slightly to rest loosely around him in return. Her question is curious. " ... what did Locus tell you?"

"That..." He swallows. The imagery makes him sick even to think about, but she asked, and he owes her the explanation. "... that there was a rebel attack on the compound. That they overwhelmed the men stationed at the gates and stormed in, just... oh, lord, indiscriminately opened fire, said they were searching for the Reds and Blues, and that the Reds and Blues... were caught up in the fray. He'd lost sight of them until it was too late."

"... what did he say happened to me?"

"... he ... told me that he saw you face-down in the snow with your helmet off. Didn't... d-didn't see you breathing. He said he tried to... tried to check on you, but when he turned y... y-your body over... he said that you'd... y-you'd likely lost too much blood, there... th-there was nothing anyone could have done. H-He had your... y-your necklace, Emily, I thought... I-I thought I'd lost you. Good lord, I don't know what I'd've done..."

"… please don't worry about that," Emily murmurs back, before she squirms in place to break his hold. "You're going to make yourself sick."

Right, Emily sometimes doesn't like to be held onto unless it's her idea, he knows that. It makes her feel trapped. And at any and all other times, he would absolutely respect that. Without question, of course. But he'd been so worried that she hadn't made it out of her outpost. He'd been so distraught. It was just such a relief to be able to hold onto her again. He simply offers her a hand to take. "Well, it's quite good I've got an excellent physician then, isn't it?"

She ignores the offered hand. "... I'd prefer not to have to treat an unnecessary sickness in the first place, but I suppose."

"Right. I'll try not to add to your work load, then." He withdraws his hand. "... Emily, if you ever want to talk about what--"

"I don't."

"... right." He fidgets, and the question escapes him before he can stop himself. "... may I... ask... how much of what Locus said was true?"

"... he was probably correct in that there were no survivors left. To my knowledge, there are no bodies left at Outpost Thirty-Seven to find. But there were never any rebels. We never thought they were rebels. We didn't know who they were." She shivers, and he reaches out for her again, but his hand goes ignored once more. "I'm... very glad you weren't there."

He chews the inside of his lip, understanding now the full gravity of her statement. She had made it out of the outpost because she'd been lucky. If there had been something to delay her even a few seconds, it was entirely possible that she would have missed the Reds and Blues and been left to Locus' mercy. If he had been there, there was no guarantee that either of them would have survived, particularly if they weren't looking for each other. But then... would Locus have even made such a bold move if he'd been there? Had he contributed, however indirectly or unknowingly, to the massacre at the command post, and therefore to Emily's disfigurement, by choosing that time to go to Armonia?

Perhaps, if he hadn't chosen then to abandon the outpost for some business in the capital that probably could have waited, he wouldn't have been confronted by the mercenary depositing Emily's ring and one of her identification tags into his palm rather like a cat presenting its owner with a dead bird, now that he's thinking about it. He wouldn't have heard Locus express what he originally thought were simply awkward condolences from a subordinate to a superior, or describe in flat, unemotional detail the condition in which he had allegedly found Emily's body. Wouldn't have sat in his office in Armonia reading over her tag, wondering what had become of her body, memorizing information that he already knew about her. Her blood type (AB-,) her service number (1209-714,) her surname and initials ("Grey, E. L.,") the "NRE" that denotes her status as non-religious, and the string of letters that identifies her as Federal Army personnel and labels her as a qualified doctor, rather than simply a medic. Turning her ring over in his hands, hooking it to the ball chain of the tag to keep everything together, so he wouldn't lose it.

He would never have come face to face with Vanessa Kimball with a rifle pointed at him while wearing Emily's identification tag and wedding ring on his own chain, fearing for his life and expecting to die with them over his heart. Knowing that this was the woman whose soldiers had been responsible for Emily's death. And somewhere under all the fear, thinking that at least if she put a bullet through him, he'd at least be with Emily again. He hadn't considered at the time whether atheists still got to see their loved ones after they died, but he'd admittedly been quite preoccupied.

His thoughts are paused by the feeling of Emily's hands on his, and he looks at her. Despite the ghoulish, haunting smile now permanently carved into her face, she's frowning.

"I know what you're doing," she states evenly, squeezing his hands. "You're trying to make this your fault somehow."

Of course she knows. "W-Well if I hadn't--"

"No."

"... n-no?"

"No." Emily lets go of his hands. She reaches up, unpinning her hair from its messy twist and letting it fall, pulling it around to unbraid it. She probably needs something to do with her hands right now, it calms her down. It would seem that he's correct in this assumption, as her smile comes back ever so slightly, and her tone brightens, as she fusses with her hair. She's trying to get back to her "happy place." It's... better than her being distraught, he supposes. "Your anxiety is getting the better of you again, and we simply can't have that right now."

Of course. He's just being silly and selfish, he knows that. "You're entirely right. We can't."

"And don't start: it's not selfish."

How does she do that? "That's neither here nor there--"

"It's precisely here! I know you, dear."

Ah, her "loophole" pet name. She calls everyone "dear," so it's not suspicious. It makes him feel a little better, at least. "... Be that as it may, Emily--"

"Are you going to argue with me for the rest of the night? Because if you are, I'll go see about sharing a space with Agent Carolina!" she chirps, running her hands through her hair in order to gather it into a ponytail so that it remains out of the way. "You know what I meant, and you're letting a flawed belief cause you undue stress when you're much more useful to Chorus not having a heart attack!"

There she is. Every single part of what she's just said sounds like a threat, even though she's absolutely beaming. To the point that it must undoubtedly hurt. She's definitely back to normal, for the moment. She's at least partially back in her "happy place." And as usual, that's both good, and worrisome. "... Of course, dear."

"... please don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm going to bite your head off! I had quite enough of that with the Reds and Blues, I'm very tired of it."

"I know you aren't going to do that, darling." He reaches up and takes hold of her hands after she secures her ponytail. "... you must be exhausted. Why don't we get some rest?"

"Oh, I'm not tired."

Of course she's not. "Well, I am. And it's just been so difficult these past few days trying to sleep by myself. I don't suppose you'd indulge me just a little bit and at least lie down with me?"

"... I suppose I can do that."

"Thank you." He presses a kiss to her forehead and stands to pull off his own plate armor, stacking it beside hers. When he feels his identification tags hit his chest, he recalls the extra weight of her tag and her wedding ring, and he reaches up into unclip them. He turns the little gold ring over in his fingers for a moment, the diamonds in the heart and crown catching the dim light.

It had belonged to his mother, but when he'd gotten the nerve to make things official, Chorus had already been at war for several years and jewelers were not exactly easy to come by anymore, certainly not to the capacity to find her her own ring. One of the weapons technicians at the time, he had been a good friend of the brigadier's, had been a jeweler before, his husband had been a watchmaker. He had been more than happy to resize a ring for old times�� sake – and two bottles of whiskey. The second bottle, though, was for engraving a message inside the band. "Tá mo chroí istigh ionat," it reads. "My heart is within you."

That part of it is entirely Emily's.

The chain had been tied around the band of the ring, to keep it attached. Locus had clearly realized that the ring, not the chain, would be sufficient proof of Emily's supposed "death." Well, if the single identification tag he'd also "recovered" wasn't enough, anyhow. But he offers the tag and ring almost sheepishly out to her. "... you're going to need a new chain, I'm afraid."

"... oh!"

She takes them from him, and her smile softens, like she's happy to see them. She clips the tag back onto her own ball chain, pulls the broken chain off of the ring and tucks it into a pocket of her undersuit, inspecting her ring as if to check for damage. He suddenly clears his throat, and offers his hand back for it. "... er... may I?"

She raises an eyebrow, but hands the ring back. When he takes her hand and puts her ring back on her finger for her, she giggles and her smile softens further and there's life back in her eyes. It brings a smile back to his own face before he presses a kiss to her forehead. While the knowledge that she's keeping details of her injuries to herself, when they undoubtedly must be weighing on her mind, isn't comforting, he knows she'll talk to him when she's ready.

Things aren't wonderful right now, but for the moment, he can stop worrying and at least pretend that they are, just for tonight. He's just happy to have her back, happy that she's alive. They can worry about the mercenaries and the rebels and the war in the morning. For tonight, it will just be them, and no one else. Right now, he supposes that they're both in their "happy place."

13 notes · View notes

jesslcover · 5 years ago

Text

H.E.A.L.T.H. What is it?

For many years, ive been trying to get all these beautiful inspiring stories out of my head and out into the public. I believe that I have a message and maybe my delivery is off but its there.... There is no right or wrong way to deliver a message because it truly comes down to the perception of the receiver, not you that creates the problem. If you have a message to share with the world.. share it, and if the world isn't ready, thats there issue, not yours. So here’s mine.... well a small piece of it...

Have you ever thought about what the true definition of health is? Is the worlds definition of health congruent with your own definition? How did you come to your own way of health or do you follow others and envision yourself as them maybe when you were completely out of balance with yourself. Or did you do research on ways to quick fix your health Hit?

There are so many ways we can view health and in each one of us, its different. Take a smoker of 30 years..... If you or someone you know has smoked for a very long time and are thinking about quitting, you know its gonna be stressful. Even if you are 100% committed to giving up the filthy habit and saying good rides, the body and mind are going to, at some point be in stress overload. The nasty chemical of nicotine has adapted inside your body and your cells feed off of them but then ll of a sudden, you are suffocating the fuel for which stimulated the craving when they were on empty... So your brain thinks, “feed me nicotine, feed me oral fixation.”

No patch, gum or physical ailment has ever been the true reason some someone killing the habit. The real healing and transformation comes from the energetic balance between what our mind is telling our body, and what forces surround us in our environment the controls our cravings within our body.

For 12 years, I smoked very heavy cigarettes. Not the Light to Ultra light brands but the stuff the big boys, construction workers, mechanics, Beer Bellied red necks, used to smoke. My mom allowed me to smoke as many cigarettes as I wanted, just as long as I only smoked cigarettes and nothing else.

In June 1999, after a car accident nearly caused my death, I was awaked into a new light and mindset. Still smoking cigarettes, going to church and attending local exercise classes, my perception to things was different.

After 4.3 drooling months of battling a disconnect of me headspace and my Mind Body Spirit connection being in OFF mode, I was turn on with more voltage and internal power than ever before.

In October 1999, 2.5 weeks after I was forced to drop out of high school, I was blown away that something so big, and active was living inside of my head. I asked myself, how could this tumor, be so unkind to just appear out of the blue and say, “That’s it Lady, POWER OFF.”

I was a senior in High School, passionate about hospitality, working for Marriott hotels 23-28 hours a week in front office operations and selling shoes at Nine West 13-17 hours/week M-F. Marriot was a Fri-Sat-Sunday job with Holidays for the additional overtime. After my accident, I lost my job at the shoe store however Marriott loved my positive energy and life force I expelled to guests while they checked in, even when I couldn't see over the front Desk front sitting in a chair from Pain. Although I felt much loved at this hotel, I would soon be discharged from here as well.

October 24th, 1999, after my first attempt to get my GED, the equivalent to a High School Diploma, I failed. I felt horrible with my life. I had no job because of my disability, I quit high school and barely saw my friends, no driver license because they were taking from me by the State of Ohio for safety of other drivers and I was smoking 2-3 packs of cigarettes a day. How was I able to come out of this mess and go from SURVIVING to THRIVING? It certainly wasnt some Miracle pill or Reconstructive Surgery that changed me from the outside to inspire my inside...... It came from within me! How I looked at the physical things around me, how I gave thanks to everything, even a bird dropping its poo poo on my head while trying to sunbathe next to my neighbors pool, or having a check for $3.84 bounce over a pack of cigarettes. What taught me the greatest life comeback in these scenarios.

It was a wet and muggy Wednesday morning in October, the 27th to be exact, when my mom dreaded waking at 745am to take me to get a second opinion from a doctor at the Cleveland Clinic office near my small hometown. She had finished work at 1130pm the previous night to only arrive home around 1215am from the heavy rain that evening. My first appointment was at 830am.

There were actually several appointments scheduled that day however my mom had to be at work by 1pm and wasnt able to take me to all of my appointments. After the first appointment, we decided to skip the potential MRI and take me to grandma’s house.

For the next 9 months, until June, the summer of 2000, I stayed with grandma. It was a much happier place to be. Grandma had 3 fun loving dogs, a pool with a beautiful wooden deck big enough for 5-7 lawn chairs, and my aunt Kathy living within walking distance. Kathy smoked and she was more like a smoking buddy. I was able to make some money mowing yards for the neighbors and helping grandma with the house and her dogs. In June, I got my driver license back and went on a mission to find a job that would give me independence away from everyone! It was the greatest stepping stone into womanhood I could've ever taken.

After attempting to retrieve my job with Marriott and being unsuccessful, an amusement park on the lake outside of cleveland contacted me for a summer job at one of their hotels in the park. Cedar Point is the PRIME ROLLERCOASTER park in the USA. Without hesitation, I took the job and moved 2.5 hours away in a cabin villa with 2 other girls, for the summer.

Cutting to the chase... at the end of the summer, I felt like i was ready to go back to school and try my HSD again. It didnt take long to see that, this wasnt supposed to be the option for me.

August 2000, just days before school was to begin, mom and I, her friend Cheryl and our long time neighbor were shopping for school supplies at our local Staples Store. Cheryl had MS and I took care of her also. Without her with us, my mom would've been in the Emergency room.

As we were walking out of the store, I started to dauntingly walk a different direction than my mom and Cheryl. Completely disconnect from the world, my mom said she continued to yell at me but I didn't listen. Was I not listening or did I not hear her?

In the moment when my mom gently grabbed my right shoulder to bring me toward our truck, I physically attacked her, bruised her face and she fell on the ground. Immediately she got back up and “started calling me names”, Cheryl said. Before we got to the truck, I came out of this brain freeze and began to ask my mom “Oh My God, what happened to you?”

You can imagine my mom’s confusion, frustration and contemplation as to why I seemed to disillusioned to the event. This object in my brain was moving again and this time caused a disconnect that changed my life traumatically, with myself and my mother.

A week before my Mom’s birthday, September 4, school had only jut begun and I was doing good until the long 3 days weekend for Labor Day. Labor day is the 1st Monday in September and my mom’s birthday happened to fall on that day however our doctors office was closed.

The very next day, with a luck of the draw, Dr Angerman, who I saw the previous years, had a slot open at 9am which my mom booked me without question. The findings were what had been daunting me for more than 15 months.

Ganglioglioma is low-grade tumor of mixed cell type. It is a type of brain tumor that contains properties of both glial cells (responsible for providing the structural support of the central nervous system) and neuronal cells (the functioning component of the central nervous system). It is very rare!! Being rare was one thing but with the location being life threatening inoperable, my mom burst into tears with fears of what to do with me.

My Ganglioglioma treatments included: Neurosurgery – to remove as much of the tumor as safely possible; surgery is often limited due to the deep, central placement of these tumors within the brain Chemotherapy – either before surgery to shrink the tumor or to kill cancer cells

Radiation therapy – precisely targeted treatment to control local growth of tumors; not recommended unless the child’s tumor has re-grown due to potential long-term side effects of therapy.

Cleveland Clinic has some of the most highly acclaimed doctors and surgeons in the world. They are one of the best trusted hospital resources for Neurological, Cardiac and Pulmonary operations. With a higher success rate than any other hospital affiliation on the entire planet, Dr Angerman relaxed my mom and assured her that I was in heaven’s hands. On March 12th, 2001, I became a successful survivor of this rare scare of a brain tumor however the end wasn’t close yet.

After 3 days, I was released from Cleveland Clinic Neurosurgery in Cleveland, Ohio, with 100% full confidence by Neurosurgeon Dr. Morris, that I would recover with no problems. March 16th, while at my grandmothers house, I had a stroke. I was paralyzed on the entire left side of my body for 6 weeks until April 29th 2001......

Dr Morris did an amazing job at my surgery and was the first person and step that gave me internal hope that led to my wellness path to what I call HEALTH however, it was the energy practices of Yoga& Pranayama, which no one in my red neck town had ever heard of), Mindfulness, Chiropractic, proper nutrition and guided imagery that allowed me to transform my mind, come back in tune with my body and provide positive feedback that would change my life, inside and out, forever.

It’s now 18.5 years later, Aug 2019, and my passion for helping people, inspiring wellness and Mind Body Medicine to everyone I meet, especially as a career, gains excitement everyday! My true meaning of HEALTH is Holistic Enhancements Aspiring Longevity Tranquility & Happiness. Because true health starts with me, not with money, a beautiful BMW, fancy vacations or diamonds... It starts at the HEART... tap deep within and you will win.... no matter what you are going through!

When we live life in a state of our own positive definition of HEALTH, whatever it may be, we are creating an art that is unique to us and us only, but its from the heart. Learn to BREATHE... and used the same formula components(letters) to BE HEART!

Sorry for any typos...

Namaste, Good Night friends.

#health #wellness #mindbodyconnection #thepowerofhealing #overcomingobstacles #lifechangingmoments #energymedicine #yogainspiration #iloveyoga #breathe #beaninspiration #survivingtothriving #cleveland clinic

2 notes · View notes

theveryworstthing · 8 years ago

Photo

i haven’t done a long lore post in a while since i was so focused on answering people’s oc questions and such. well, its time to get back to basics. i’m gonna teach y’all about bunny necromancy.

Necromancers:

Necromancers! People of a common and socially celebrated profession that are seen as pillars of the community. Every part of the island has necromancers and their work is a valuable source of rabbit history and survival. Their communications with deceased doctors and their patients have allowed rabbit medical practices to progress by leaps and bounds. Ancient rituals and hidden warrens have been discovered. Sustainable farming techniques have been revived. And that’s just the old old stuff, getting away with murder isn’t very successful when your victim can still give a lengthy description of your face. Yes, necromancy is a comfort in the trying times on the island. A certainty that not only is there something much more chill after the moment you realize that you’re probably not going to outrun that owl, but that you might still get the chance to call your surviving brother an asshole for picking this trade route in the first place. Not the biggest prizes in the grand scheme of things, but rabbits take what they can get.

Necromancers are late bloomers magic wise, with powers emerging at around 7 to 15 years old. This gives them a little less initial control over their powers than other members of the Life Magic trio. As an upside, being older makes it so blossoming necromancers have a more concrete knowledge of death and the maturity needed to problem solve, de-escalate, and converse clearly with the dead. This is kind of important, since the dead might pick up the phone pissed as hell and with a few choice words about wolves that are not really fit for tiny ears.

Kits are tested for necromantic abilities every year from the ages of 6 to 16. Its very simple and usually built into their yearly physical, consisting of an attempt to call a deceased family member or local volunteer. Pretty simple. Sometimes its not so simple though. Sometimes a 5 year old or a 20 year old or a rabbit who’s just finished testing negative will spontaneously give the closest dead body a ring. This is surprising at best and emotionally trying at worst.

Since there’s no ritual involved there’s no real ‘door’ for the spirit to come through so its more like being yanked through a wall unless the soul hadn’t fully crossed yet. People don’t like that very much. Plus, they might get stranded and then a priest or other necromancer has to come open a door out for them and that’s someone’s afternoon just gone. Plus, now a confused dead person is either walking around or cursing into the night which is gross/rude. This usually only happens once or twice to untrained necromancers since pulling people through that ‘wall’ is pretty hard and it’s the spikes of magic while powers emerge that does it. After the gift is there it just kind of mellows. Aside from growing pains and freak spikes in powerful individuals, you’re not going to call people back on accident.

Training:

Necromancer schooling is mostly about conduct with the dead and upkeep of ritual items. They apprentice under a local necromancer, first just to learn control, but they’ll stick with it if they want to make a career out of it. Necromancy training differs in intensity depending on what you want to do with it. Some people work with historians, rescue parties, doctors, detectives, ect. Others are more freelance, lending their services to anyone who wants to speak with the dead or creating bone constructs for Walking Worms. No matter what you choose you’ll probably end up needing AT LEAST a few languages under your belt if you don’t have a partner for translating and some training in the job you’re working with.

Very good hygiene helps too. Learning how to disinfect yourself and your tools keeps everyone flesh eating bacteria free. Necromancers are stereotyped as always smelling of soaps and perfumes.

And mud breath.

We’ll get to that.

Necromancer tools:

There are a few things you’ll need to successfully call up a dead person. The most common tools are as follows:

Intact Skull: For talking. The spirit needs something to inhabit for communication and that’s much easier if they inhabit a part of themselves commonly used for that. The mental link of imitating life in the living world is important for a good connection. Hearing impaired people have hands saved instead for writing or signing. A few old dance centered warrens were rumored to have saved entire skeletons for interpretive dance numbers. Whatever works. Skulls are most common though. A skull with missing pieces or cracks can be used if patched up or provided with substitute bits but your reception might get janky.

Consent: Getting the okay to bring a person back to the physical plane and interact with them. Its important to cut down on confusion and stress for everyone involved in a necromantic ritual. A panicked spirit will not be able to communicate well and will be reluctant to approve contact in the future.

Topsoil: Represents barrier between life/death. Usually a little dry with bits of fresh leaves or grass mixed in. sand from the island works for this but it has to be dry.

Root Soil: Represents life/safety. Just good rich soil from deep under ground. The dead are attracted to the smell.

Water: Island fresh water is best but any salt water will do fine. Mainland fresh water is unusable.

Looking Glass: Large rounded 20 (can be less) sided dice with different expressive eyes carved on each surface. They must fit in the eye sockets of a skull and usually come in three sizes (small medium large, large is very rarely used). The dice sit in the eye socket and roll to the expression the dead are feeling. These are usually made of wood, but can be made of other materials like stone, bone, or resin. Rabbit bone is not advised since it messes with the signal. The only exception would be if you’re using the bones of the person you’re calling OR your own bones. This actually makes reception better and also serves as a great after-disaster crafting project if you’re not fond of crochet.

Cloth: A handkerchief or cloth scrap covered in symbols. Usually white with colorful pictures of plants and animals. Symbols differ, but there’s always the circular necromantic sigil in the center.

Alcohol: Just in case. Don’t worry about it.

Some sort of fire making implement: Just in case. Seriously, don’t worry about it.

Let’s Talk To Dead People!

Ritual: There are potential entrances to The Rest almost everywhere because its possible to die almost anywhere. Travel between the planes of life and death is mostly one way, with spirits going in but not out and the living not going in at all despite magic shenanigans. Necromancers get the closest to entry, but they really do the equivalent of standing at the door and yelling.

Rabbit practices that come in contact with The Rest are all about turning symbolic pathways into real ones that the dead can travel on and the living can communicate through. Rabbits can forgo ritual if they’re powerful enough, but again its like pulling someone through a wall. Its sudden, and the lack of proper aim or consent from the dead person can lead to unsuccessful calls, throwing the spirit into a panic, or trapping a spirit in the living world.

Preparation: Place cloth on face with half of the topsoil sprinkled on top (go light unless you’re cool with dirt in every crevice of your body), have a small cup of mud made from the root soil and water at the ready, place looking glass in eye sockets with the ‘closed’ side showing (preferably before you put the cloth on your face).

Door Opening : Release big puff of air through the handkerchief that displaces the dirt.

Calling: While the cloth is still on your face, take a quick swig of mud to coat the mouth. Spit it out, call the person’s name, and wait for a response.

Clarify: Make sure you got the right person, get their consent to bring them over, and agree not to fuck with each other. The last one isn’t necessary but it is strongly advised

Let them in: Take the cloth off of your face and put it on their skull soil side down. Only remove it once you hear the *thunk* of the die rolling to ‘here’. Keep cloth balled up in fist while talking. That door is still open and you need to keep an eye on it.

Talking: Have a chat.

Leaving : Put the cloth back on their skull, soil side up. Only remove it when you hear the die turn to ‘gone’. Take the cloth and pour the rest of the topsoil on the soil side, tying it up with string or twisting it up into a little dirt pouch. Keep tied closed until the sigil on the bottom stops glowing. It doesn’t take long.

Laws Of Necromancy:

Though the island doesn’t have literal necromancy ‘laws’ there are things that you traditionally don’t do. Breaking these laws can lead to a necromancer being ostracized or even exiled depending on the severity of the offense. The main ones are:

1. No purposely trapping a spirit on the living plane. That’s just shitty. No one want to be a screaming skull. No one wants to be a haunted butt cheek. Do not.

2. No purposely raising entire bodies. This is mostly to deter those who would use the deceased as slave labor. In the real old days there were a few warrens built or guarded by criminals who were denied true death until they paid their due. There are old stories of beautiful young does who turned down offers from old kings and still had to bear both an execution and a wedding against their will. These tales are told with horror and disgust to young training necromancers and instill a fierce respect for the dead. There are exceptions, like if consent by the deceased is enthusiastically given before death for a ceremony or something. But they are to be released asap and the necromancer should always be in a position to help them achieve their goals, not the other way around.

3. No obsessive calling. This is mostly a problem with necromancers struggling with traumatic loss or infatuation with a person. If you just can’t let go or you’re assisting someone who can’t let go you both need to seek counsel from someone trained to handle grief. Plus, too many calls too often (say several calls every day for years) can cause pre-mature blindness, self-destructive behaviors, and intense exhaustion.

4. No lying. Don’t lie to the dead. Don’t lie about the dead. If you can’t be a truthful link between the living and the dead then you don’t need to be a link at all. Yes, sometimes this means exposing uncomfortable truths when you find them but you’ll only know what the dead tell you so. You know. Deal with it.

5. Don’t be weird about it. no one, living or dead, likes the dude who calls someone and heavy breathes into the receiver. Don’t be That Guy. The dead can still get creeped out.

What Could Go Wrong?

Because something always can.

A pathway isn’t closed after use: It’ll close itself eventually but in the meantime the spirit that used it can travel back through and potentially become trapped on the living side. A mess.

A spirit is pulled into something that isn’t their body: Very rare but it happens, usually a case of early necromantic power spikes. Confusing and distressing to the spirit but not that bad in the short term (like a day to a week). In the long term severe dysphoria and an extreme need to communicate set in. This is where you get your haunted items. These spirits warp the object they’re trapped inside, sometimes even gaining the ability to feel through their new ‘body’, in an effort to find some way to speak to people. This can be anything from a book’s cover gaining the texture of skin or fur, to fingernails growing out of a blanket. Changes are more severe if the spirit had magical abilities. These strange attributes leave the objects once the spirit is exorcised but in the meantime you’re gonna have a whispering blood-cupboard on your hands.

You goofed opening the pathway: No big deal. It just doesn’t open and you feel a little tired.

Abnormalities: Sometimes there’ll be a little weirdness in your chat with a dead person. That’s alright. There are always going to be outliers in any practice. Sometimes you can call and call and no one ever answers. Sometimes the spirit doesn’t exactly act like a spirit, or doesn’t acknowledge its death. Most necromancers will never encounter cases like this but those that do are usually reaching out to people who had immense magical power in life. Its better not to mess with these people unless they’re really on board with being called back. They get…irritable. Jimson Weed, famed pirate queen and mother of modern necromancy will fucking drag you and all your dead relatives if you wake her up for no reason.

That’s not grandpa: This is nothing to really worry about buuuuuut, if whatever is coming through can’t control the Looking Glasses they’re an imposter. You did not tap into the rest, something nearby saw you trying and decided to interrupt your call and pretend to be a person. Very VERY rare but dangerous. Do not engage. Do not listen to them. Do not take the cloth off. Pour topsoil and alcohol on the covered skull, and set it on fire. Don’t worry about the skull, it won’t burn. Its not what the fire is aiming for. When the cloth is completely burned away you can try again. If you encounter the thing again you’ll sense a burning smell and can get out before it tries to talk to you. Delays in answers and strange speech patterns that seem patched together from different voices like an audio ransom note are warning signs. You’ll notice that you’re not hearing a voice really, just feeling words like telepathy. These things have no mouths. They don’t need a skull to talk to you. They just want you distracted and using your powers. They want to open a door in you and climb inside. They won’t stay long since something about rabbit bodies flings them out after a while but It’ll have as much fun as it can before then. You might not survive the fun. They don’t really ‘get’ the possible hazards to a corporeal body.

Again, very rare, nothing to worry about.

Just don’t listen to it.

#rabbits of downtrodden #necromancy #worldbuilding for days ya'll #THE LONGEST POST

735 notes · View notes

g0ldpainted · 8 years ago

Note

Hi! Do you still take requests? If so, How would Renji Yomo (from Tokyo Ghoul) Help his female s/o fall asleep if she has insomnia/trouble sleeping /stressed? You can do this as a one shot etc. However you want to! Thanks in advance!

Hii!! Omg, thank you so much for requesting something, Anon! =D

My requests are pretty much always open unless I state it in my description, but I don’t think that’ll be the case anytime soon - so feel free to request more if you want to! :3

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2500+

Spoilers: Nope ^^

I hope you like it! :3

Another night, another fight. Renji’s beloved (Y/N) laid next to him, tossing and turning. This had been the 22nd day in a row she simply couldn’t catch proper sleep. By now she was merely a shell of herself, forcing herself to work. Her body wanted to collapse, wanted to catch sleep so badly, but her mind didn’t. The moment she laid down there were thousand of things on her mind, thousands of worries and stuff she had to do. All attempts of ignoring them were to no avail. Over the past 22 days, she slept a total of 43 hours. What might sound like a lot really means less than two hours per day. It wasn’t even real sleep, it was her body passing out and then waking up from a racing heart.

Her job was wearing her out. And not for the first time either.

She often had stressful periods that tore at her seams to the point that her mind could no longer find rest. That’s when she began taking medication. Although it helped the first few times months ago, it no longer did.

All she could take was simple medication, pills she could grab without prescription. Visiting a doctor in hopes to get a prescription for stronger medication was impossible. As a ghoul herself she couldn’t let a human check on her. The risk of them finding out about her being a ghoul was too high.So now all she could do was lay in her shared bed with Renji and hope to drift off into her well-needed rest.

“Two meetings in the morning, three reports to hand in at 1pm, conference call at 1:30pm,..” she thought to herself, frowning with her eyes closed and her hands clutching onto the pillow.Her entire body felt heavy, even just moving a single inch was exhausting. All she wanted was to sleep for more than 1,5 hours. As much as she loved her boyfriend, she currently only felt envy for him.“Lunch at 3pm an-.. He comes home after having slept at Anteiku for the past three weeks and just falls right asleep,” her thoughts went on.Renji had been staying at Anteiku during the nights because there had been lots of corpses to gather lately. He often felt too tired to drive home in the middle of the night but came home in the morning. Unfortunately, most times she was already gone, rushing to work, or there was barely enough time for a quick hello-and-goodbye-kiss.

This was the first night he slept next to her after such a long period of time. So far she didn’t mention her sleeping issues, not wanting to bother him with her problems right away - but he knew. He could see it in her face; those dark, sullen circles around her dull eyes, the way her smile seemed forced and her blinking was slower than ever. It was not only that though; he saw how she struggled to walk straight, dropped light items and started shaking every time she picked up a heavier object - not to mention that she was paler than usual.

Her body gave away that she was suffering from lack of sleep.

After 3 hours of tossing and turning from left to right, she gave up and decided to get up. Carefully removing Renji’s arm from her waist, she slowly sat up and got up once she made sure her boyfriend was still asleep.The thought of reading a book to calm herself and potentially fall asleep crossed her mind the second she tiptoed towards their living room. Their bookshelf was rather small, she had at least read every book once, but it was still more distracting than listening to her boyfriend snore beside her.Right after she reached out for a book, she sat down on a nearby armchair. The only light she flicked on was the one of a floor lamp. It barely lit the room and was just bright enough to ease her eyes while reading.Of course, her nightly activity didn’t stay unnoticed. Renji soon patted the empty spot beside him in search for his lover. Once he realized she must’ve gotten up, he put the pieces together and immediately got up as well.

He wouldn’t let her carry this burden alone.

“Can’t sleep?” Renji asked her as he leaned against the doorframe and rubbed his eyes.

Lifting her eyes up from the book, (Y/N) glanced at her sleepy boyfriend. He was visibly tired but in no way more tired than her. Before she could reply, he headed towards her and sat on the couch in front of her.

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping again, right?” he continued to ask while his lively eyes pierced her lifeless ones.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) informed him, knowing there was no use in lying to him.

“Have you trie-” he began to say but his significant other cut him off.

“I’ve tried it all.. I just can’t find rest,” she sighed, putting the book down on her lap.

For a few moments, he just stared at her, searching for an answer, a way to end her plight.

“God.. Renji, I’m so tired,” she groaned as she got up, suddenly craving her lovers near.

He leaned back against the couch, inviting her on his lap. Just by looking at her face, he knew she wanted to cuddle. Over the past weeks they rarely spent time together, it was only natural that she wanted his near. She wanted to find comfort in him. Their eyes met right before she climbed into his lap and nuzzled her face in his neck. They were splendid at communicating through expressions.

“I missed you” he whispered into her ear, his arms wrapping around her tired frame right away while he felt her rapid heart beat against his chest.

“I missed you too” she assured him, placing a soft kiss on his jawline before she closed her heavy eyes.

“Is work stressing you out again?” the gray-haired male wondered, slowly rubbing her back.

“T-there’s just so much to do..” she reasoned, not wanting to admit that she was utterly stressed out even though it was so obvious.

“I see.. But.. Love, this it the fifth time you’re struggling to sleep because of it..” he stated, gently massaging her stiff shoulders.

“I know,” the dead tired female agreed, melting into his body with each touch.

“I.. - You should quit this job. It’s not good for your health,” he argued softly, his hands massaging her aching back carefully.

“But.. We need the money,” she dissented quietly, both of her hands resting against his chest.

“Who cares about money when you’re risking your life earning it..” he bit his lip hard as he spoke, “You’re working incredible hours and with humans, too. This is not good for you.”

She had nothing to say; he was right, this job was dangerous and exhausting to the point it stole her sleep.

“Don’t go to work tomorrow. Let us spend some time together,” he proposed, his hands taking care of her stiff neck.

“I.. I can’t. I’m the project ma-manger.. I..-” (Y/N) tried to reason, tears prickling at her eyes because she was too exhausted to focus on work.

“Sweetheart,” he gently pushed her forward, creating a bit of distance between them so he could look at her, “You know you’re beautiful but I can clearly see how worn out you are.”

She watched him speak, looking into his eyes for as long as she could before her tears clouded her vision entirely.

“Your eyes are bloodshot red and so empty and you even lost weight.. You clearly need some days off” he went on, “I just want what’s best for you.. And that job is not one of those things.”

The corners of her mouth lowered, from a neutral expression to a sad one. She appreciated him, loved how he understood but right now, there was just no way out.

“I’m sure you’re thinking about work right now,” he added, running his hands down her arms towards her hands.

It was true, she couldn’t get it off her mind, not even as she was speaking to her lover.

“Y-yeah.. I’m sorry” she nodded, apologizing right after because it made her feel bad.

“You should consider quitting your job.. - I.. I’ll help you. Yoshimura could probably give you a job as a waitress-” her boyfriend was quick to speak, which resulted in overwhelming emotions on her side.

Finally, tears leaked her eyes, the inner stress, and the exhaustion becoming too much to take.

“Oh n-no,.. love, don’t cry..” Renji whispered, one of his hands taking hers and the other one wiping away her trail of tears.

“I just.. I just wanna sleep, you know..” she murmured, “My.. My body hurts, my head does too.. I.. I can’t focus on anything anymore..”

For the first time in a while, Renji didn’t know what to say. Reassuring her, telling her it’d be okay could easily be a lie. All he could really do was be there for her, hold her, tell her about how much he loves her and attempt to take the stress off her mind. To show her his support, he intertwined their fingers.

“I’m exhausted.. I’m weak.. I feel like I might fall into pieces anytime..” she admitted, going back to resting her head on his shoulder for support.

“You’re so strong.. I hope you know that” Renji mumbled, kissing her shoulder softly while his idle hand went back to rubbing her back, “Can I do anything for you? Prepare food or coffee? Run a bath? Give you a massage?”

“All of it..” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible, drowned by tears and sobs that were soaking her boyfriend’s shirt.

He could guess that she hadn’t taken good enough care of herself lately. It was something she always forgot in these situations. Work came before her and she put him first, too. In (Y/N) eyes, everything came before her. In a way, it was Renji’s job to take care of her - but he loved doing that and he always knew what she needed.

“Sounds like a deal” he placed a kiss on her cheek while one of his hands slid beneath her butt.

In one swift motion, he got on his legs and began carrying her towards the bathroom. All the while he kept whispering sweet nothings into her ear while she cried. It was his attempt of lifting her mood, reminding her of how amazing she is. He sat her on the counter and wiped some more tears away while the moonlight shone upon them and lit the room.

“I love you” he spoke softly before he cupped her face with his hands and placed a very gentle, quite chaste kiss on her lips.

Their lips moved in sync for a few seconds. As he pulled away, she wore a dreamy expression, hinting a smile - which made him smile. Her happiness was what made him happy, even the slightest smile could lift his mood. Afterward, he started running her a bath, using only best scented shampoo he could find. (Favorite Smell) was her absolute favorite, he knew it’d help her relax.Careless and tired as (Y/N) was, she simply undressed as the water filled the tub. They had seen each other naked before, it was no big deal. Once it was filled to the top, Renji helped her climb inside.

“Thank you” she gave him a short, small smile before she leaned back into the tub, the bubbles covering most of her body.

“You’re welcome” he replied, returning the smile as he lit some candles to create a relaxing atmosphere, “I’ll go grab you some food and the coffee. Just stay where you are.”

“I definitely won’t leave” she assured him, still smiling, then closing her eyes.

“Okay.. I’ll fry some of the flesh we have for her and then I’ll prepare the coffee” Renji thought to himself while he headed towards the kitchen.

Coffee didn’t have the same effect on ghouls as it had on humans; the caffeine had no effect on ghouls but on humans, that was why she could easily drink it.While his girlfriend was still haunted my thoughts of her job, he prepared her a delicious meal. It was simple but made with love. Although he wasn’t the best cook, he enjoyed cooking if it was for his beloved one. It didn’t take too long before the food and the coffee was done and he carried both on a tray towards the bathroom. (Y/N) patiently awaited his return while her mind was giving her a hard time. She was nervous, perhaps even anxious from all the upcoming work. It had stressed her for weeks on end, she knew it’d take some more weeks before the situation would calm down.

“Here, it’s done” Renji spoke softly as he put the tray down in front of her.

Luckily it was broad enough not to slip into the bathtub. He had already cut the flesh into pieces so she could just use the fork to pick and eat them up.

“Awwh, thanks, tThis smells good” she murmured, sitting up straight to be in a better position for eating and drinking.

“Well, I hope it’ll taste good, too” her boyfriend joked.

She nodded after she took the first bite, letting him know that it did, indeed, taste good.

“Awesome.. Uh.. I’ll climb in behind you for your backrub, okay?” he informed her, already tugging on his shirt to remove it.

“Sure” she responded, moving forward so he’d have more space.

As quick as he introduced the idea he made his way in. The water was not too hot, nor too warm - perfect for both of them. While she kept changing between taking sips of her drink and bites of her food, he started working his hands on her back.Every now and then she couldn’t help but groan; her back was very tensed up, easing her muscles was hard and a bit painful for her. Regardless, she still enjoyed every moment of it. She enjoyed how his hands pressed into her body, kneading it carefully. And she also enjoyed the sweet kisses he placed on her back every now and then.

“Do you want a piece?” she asked him, holding out the fork for him to bite a piece off.

“Uh-huh” he agreed, leaning forward to bite it off.

She giggled after she fed him - it meant she was beginning to feel better and that made him chuckle in return. Her thoughts weren’t gone yet, but they were slowly fading. With each gentle touch and kiss her muscles eased and her mind wandered off into a more romantic setting.Eventually, Renji worked his hands down her spine and ensured that she had no strained spots left. All the while they were speaking about trivial things, anything that could get her mind off her work. They had to refill the tub partially because the water was cold by the time he was done - but they weren’t done bathing.

“Thank you for that.. I.. I feel better” she turned her face and smiled at him.

Their eyes met again, hers already seeming a bit happier, and he placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Can we just.. Stay in here for a little while longer?” she asked shyly, putting her hands on his knee because that was all she could reach.

“Yeah, sure” Renji nodded in agreement before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

Only a few seconds later her hands landed on top of his and her head leaned against his shoulder. She finally relaxed into his touch.

“Should I tell you a story?” her boyfriend wondered, drawing hearts into her stomach.

“Mmhmm” she hummed, approving of his question.

Then he began telling her a story about how his sister and him fought off some ghouls when they were kids. It sure was interesting and quite admirable but with each sentence and the longer he spoke, (Y/N) started drifting off. She concentrated on his words, almost forced herself to listen to every word he said but at some point, she couldn’t continue paying attention. She was too tired.The stress wasn’t gone but the thoughts were - for now. And before either of them knew it, she dozed off in his arms. Renji knew, he noticed the change in her breathing and that her heart beat slowed down but he kept speaking. As he finished his story, he waited a few more moments to see if she’d wake up or if she had fallen into a rather deep slumber.

The latter was the case: she was asleep.

Knowing they both couldn’t sleep in here, he decided to carefully lift her up and out of the tub. While he carried her limp body with one hand, pressing her body into his, he wrapped a towel around most of her body with the other. After the towel was around most of her body, he laid her down on their bed. There was no denying that she woke up for a split second, wondering where she was, but as he kissed her eyelids, she dozed off again.Once Renji wrapped a towel around his lower half, he put another towel over her body to make sure the bed would definitely not get soaked. Then he tugged the bedsheets over the love of his life, only letting her head poke out.

“She’s the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever.. Ever seen” he thought, smiling at her sight.

He then proceeded to dress and quickly clean up the bathroom before he turned off her alarm and climbed into the bed behind her. Even though she was asleep, she cuddled up to him and he started holding her in his arms.

Finally, she found the rest she needed so badly.

#anon #request #tokyo ghoul #tg #renji yomo #yomo renji #oneshot #renji #yomo #yomo x reader #renji x reader #renji yomo x reader #yomo renji x reader #tokyo ghoul fanfiction #tokyo ghoul fanfic #Anonymous #renjiyomoxreader #tokyoghoul

89 notes · View notes

enemylegal55-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Detoxes, cleanses, and cheat days: A guide to toxic diet culture language - Quartz

“detox” This is mostly a marketing expression, and there’s little consistency in what products mean when they make claims about removing “toxins” from the body. Besides, the liver and kidneys manage to effectively detox most people’s bodies. “superfoods” or “miracle foods” While it’s true that humans thrive when eating a balanced diet that’s high in fruit and vegetables, most foods touted as “super” or a “miracle” are simply … food. Many expensive and rare fad ingredients contain the same nutrients as the produce on sale at your local supermarket. foods that are “poison” or “toxic” or “bad” Some foods are not particularly healthy when eaten in disproportionately large quantities, or to people with specific allergies, but the fear-mongering language of referring to particular nutrients as “poison” or “toxic” is incorrect and counter-productive. Again, unless it’s truly poisonous, it’s probably just food. “junk food” or “processed food” It’s accurate and sometimes useful to identify high-calorie foods with low nutritional value—soda, candy, chips, etc.—as foods that shouldn’t comprise your entire diet. But which foods are “junk” is a moving target. It doesn’t make sense to dismiss all processed food out of hand, and these terms can also be a class-based way of shaming certain food choices. Also, demonizing certain foods without acknowledging that they are delicious, or without understanding why they are cheap and ubiquitous, ignores essential truths. And even junk food can have a place in a varied, balanced diet. “cheat day” The concept of a “cheat day” comes from diet culture—the way WW, for example, encourages participants to take occasional days off from the program, or not count points for events like birthday celebrations. It’s also an (unproven) weight-loss strategy that claims to “reset” the metabolism and make a very restrictive diet easier to follow. The language assumes everyone is dieting—and suggests that restrictive eating is normal, and a “cheat day” where you eat what you feel like eating is the exception. “decadent,” “sinful,” “naughty” As Kat Kinsman wrote last year in Cooking Light, there’s nothing sinful about overeating: “Food—even sweet, gooey, calorie-laden, carb-heavy, and fatty fare—is morally neutral.” There’s something deeply puritanical about labeling a bodily function as bad when it is also pleasurable. (Sort of like sex.) a “cleanse” Subsisting on juices or broths or herbal infusions or some other single category of foods for short periods of time may not necessarily be harmful (though it certainly can be for some). In most cases, however, a more accurate way to describe it is a “crash diet”—not some life-giving salve. “clean eating” The mostly white gurus of “clean eating” have managed to make bland, unadorned food appear more moral, but the use of “clean” to describe some foods is problematic and judgmental. It also has a role in the rise of the eating disorder known as orthorexia. And of course, if some foods are “clean,” others have to be “dirty.” “wellness” Sometimes it’s just a nice way to talk about getting a massage or going to yoga; other times it’s a way of re-packaging diet culture into a friendlier-seeming, but still highly profitable, business. The “wellness” industry has managed to market the thin, white, able-bodied ideal as a health concern rather than an arbitrary and class-based standard. And true wellness is much broader than just nutrition and exercise: The “wellness wheel” concept is a useful way to think about what else it includes. “You look great! Have you lost weight?” This common piece of body-shaming small talk efficiently conveys that you think a person should be trying to lose weight. This is especially awkward if the person hasn’t lost weight, or has lost weight for a less-than-cheerful reason, such as depression, an eating disorder, or an illness. As a general rule of thumb, it’s not polite to comment on the shape of people’s bodies. “the body you want”; a “beach body”; a “perfect body” These euphemisms assume every person is trying to get thinner. Not everyone is trying to lose weight. And, as food writer Mark Bittman and doctor David L. Katz recently wrote: “Not everything that causes weight loss or apparent metabolic improvement in the short term is a good idea. Cholera, for instance, causes weight, blood sugar, and blood lipids to come down—that doesn’t mean you want it!” “atone” or do “penance” with exercise When we consider foods bad or sinful, it’s natural to think that there should be a penance to pay for eating them, and exercise is often framed as the way to exact that punishment. This punitive approach isn’t the best way to sustain a healthy level of movement in daily life. Instead, consider what forms of movement and exercise make you feel great while you’re in the act of doing them. “earn” certain foods This is a kind of pre-atonement, suggesting that you must punish yourself with exercise to justify enjoying food—not because it’s delicious or your body is craving its nutrients, but because you earned it. “holiday weight gain” The panicked onslaught of advice about how to stave off weight gain during the holidays is based on a persistent myth that tends to dramatically overestimate the amount of weight people gain, on average, during the holiday season. And the broad preoccupation with this weight gain is a kind of societal dysfunction, as the body positivity activist Virgie Tovar points out: “The holidays are the way that the culture normalizes dieting and binging and restricting behavior on a grand scale. It’s okay to indulge during socially sanctioned, culturally approved moments, and then it’s quickly followed up by an expectation of restriction…we have this kind of feasting period as a culture and then January is the deadline of when that has to stop.” “I’m just concerned about your health.” “Concern-trolling” can manifest as over-emphasizing or invasively inquiring about health metrics such as weight or cholesterol levels, and it can be a way to fat-shame while maintaining a veneer of polite concern. “the perfect diet,” “the best diet,” “the only healthy diet” Keto, plant-based, low-carb, paleo, gluten free: Some of these diets or lifestyle choices may have real therapeutic benefits for certain conditions—and there’s nothing wrong with losing weight by following a diet—but that doesn’t make one diet, or the choice to lose weight, right for everyone. “There’s no such thing as a perfect diet,” says Laura Thomas, nutritionist and intuitive eating expert. A diet is just a diet, not a path to salvation or perfect health. “war on obesity” or “obesity crisis” As the writer Michael Hobbes laid out brilliantly in the Huffington Post’s Highline, weight is an imperfect indicator of health. Any talk of the so-called scourge of obesity that does not acknowledge the systemic and societal factors that contribute to the condition’s prevalence, and the ways that fat people are mistreated and misdiagnosed by the health care system, should be regarded with suspicion. Our industrial food system, a shame-based medical approach, and the stigmatizing of fat people are all crises, too. Source: https://qz.com/quartzy/1510840/a-handy-guide-to-the-toxic-language-of-diet-culture/

0 notes

donkeyvirgo8-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Detoxes, cleanses, and cheat days: A guide to toxic diet culture language - Quartz

0 notes

fitnesshealthyoga-blog · 6 years ago

Photo

New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/a-guide-to-toxic-diet-culture-language-quartzy/

A guide to toxic diet culture language — Quartzy

Source link

#health news usa #health news usa today #latest health news usa #Health News

0 notes