#and doctors have just told me “youre just susceptible to these things:

[faust-terrorsofthenight]

I've created the ultimate healing shrine! ✨️

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Nightmares No More

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / Requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: It's no surprise that your nightmares pick up again since beginning travelling with the Doctor, but the Doctor has just the fix.

CW: angst, soft fic, comfort, reader has nightmares

DW tag list: @nyxiethesimp (please inbox me to be added to a tag list)

Nightmares were kind of a given no matter where, who or what you were. At some point in their lives, most people, or people-adjacent (read: aliens) would experience a nightmare. You, who were, in fact, a person and not person-adjacent, were particularly susceptible to nightmares. You always had been. 

It had been a particular source of contention for you when you were younger. Especially when you reached the age where you wanted to watch horror movies but couldn’t unless you wanted to spend the next one to fifteen days without sleep curled up in the blankets in terror. 

And yet, despite this, when the Doctor had asked you if you wanted to go and travel through time and space with him, you had said yes. You had said yes despite the horrors you were sure to and did face. Repeatedly. The Doctor had started to notice that you were slowly growing less chipper, the bags under your eyes growing darker by the day. He was growing concerned. 

Currently, you were asleep in your room and the Doctor was looking through the TARDIS records to see if he could find anything that might be causing your lack of interest in things. He was not having much luck. 

He was almost ready to give up for the day and head to bed himself when he heard a loud shriek. He rushed towards your room immediately assuming the worst. He was good at that, particularly when it came to his mortal companions. He’d lost enough of them. No more. 

His hand slams down on the bio-scanner button. The TARDIS overrides the scanner for him and the door opens with a whoosh. He steps inside, calling your name in a panic. 

He finds you sitting in your bed, tears tracking down your cheeks with your arms wrapped around your knees. He leans on the end of the bed, hands brushing over your face, your arms and over your legs- checking for damage, or bites. Anything. 

“What’s wrong?” He rushes out, cupping your chin to raise your line of sight back up to him. 

“It’s nothing,” you chew on your lip, averting eye contact. You brush each cheek against your arm to wipe the tears away and give him the best approximation of a genuine smile you can muster. “Sorry, stubbed my toe.” 

The Doctor raises a brow at you in disbelief. Your smile slips into something a tad more genuine. He could always see right through you. 

“Ohh, come on, now,” he tuts amusedly, but even he can’t hide the look of concern colouring his eyes. “You shouldn’t lie to your Doctor, you know.” 

You roll your eyes and let out a little puff of air, preparing to tell him the truth. 

“I had a nightmare,” you said simply, wiggling your socked toes for something to focus on. Another tear streaks down your cheek before you can release your knees to wipe it away. 

The Doctor releases your chin to wipe it away and clambers over the bed to sit up against the wall next to you. He draws you into his chest comfortingly.

“Nightmares, huh? I get those too. Not as much fun as travelling through the Chasm of Jewels, are they?” 

You scoff and relax into him, releasing your knees to stretch out. Your heart was beginning to slow now that the dream was over and slowly slipping away from you. 

“No,” you agree quietly. “They’re not.” 

The Doctor is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, rubbing your shoulder softly. 

“How long have you had them?” 

You shrug and tell him how you’ve always had them. They had just been getting worse of late. He hummed thoughtfully, wondering if there was something that may have triggered them for you. 

He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head and leaned his own against yours. Such a soft and caring affection. You suddenly wondered why you hadn’t told him about your nightmares before. Of course, he had them too. How could he not?

The Doctor was busy wondering what he could possibly do to make them better. Perhaps a potion from Raxos Five? Something from Earth, perhaps? Whale sounds? He’d heard whale sounds were good to sleep to. He’d tried them once but found himself too enraptured by what they were saying to actually fall asleep. 

And then the answer presented itself to him in the form of a soft snore. You had fallen back to sleep on him. He sat perfectly still, listening to the soft sounds of your breath. You must have been tired. How long had this been going on for? 

The Doctor closed his eyes and smiled. Oh, yes. This was much better. 

He stayed like that all night, laying in quiet comfort as you slept without disturbance for the next several hours. Of course, companionship was the answer to this question. The cure for your nightmares. You’d just needed someone to be there for you.

And the Doctor was more than happy to fill that role for you. Happy to stand guard and keep those demons at bay. 

And he was happy to do it for as long as you needed him to. You didn’t really notice the change at first. You’d fall asleep somewhere on the TARDIS and when you woke, the Doctor would be speaking softly to himself by the controls, or he’d be sat next to you. You’d go to bed and the Doctor would follow along to tell you about some story or legend from another planet, and when you woke he’d be near then too. Never too far away- just in case you had a nightmare. 

On rare occasions that became less rare the longer time went on, you’d wake to him cuddled up to you. Sometimes asleep, sometimes reading something, sometimes just staring off into space. Either way, he was just… always there. 

He was always there when you had nightmares, too.

And one day, you’d realised that it had been quite some time since you’d actually had a nightmare at all. You also realised that it had been quite some time since the Doctor had slept in his own room. The two of you had just gravitated into this new routine. It was safe to say it wasn’t a routine you wanted to give up. 

The Doctor had noticed this too but wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to give up the closeness he’d fostered with you. He didn’t sleep much, but when he did, he’d found that he didn’t have quite as many nightmares as he did before. 

That, and, well, he simply enjoyed being close to you. 

And that was in his books- a good enough reason as any other.

[darling-i-read-it]

Please Don't Kill Me Mr. Ghostface!

Ethan Landry x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k 

Warnings: SCREAM 6 SPOILERS 

Very susceptible reader, Ethan’s reaction to Richies death, heavy insinuations to smut, faking the reader and Quinn's death, the slight cringe from scream movies dialogue <3, they literally have sex in the stab shrine room (when will it be my turn), (that is all skipped over), me being unsure of which ghostface was at which part of the movie. I have only seen Scream 6 once and was just going off what I remembered from it! So if things are wrong (timing, Ghostfaces, etc) then I’m sorry! 

Author’s Note: This one requires some suspension of belief lol. I don’t know HOW to justify the reader doing all these things except Ethan was cute and this is fiction <3 I hope you enjoy love!! Also I wasn’t 100% sure on if Ethan’s name was Landry or Bailey. I went with Landry (which I’m sure is fake but what we all know him as! So when I refer to the house under that name, I was torn lol)

Requested by anon, ooh ok so can i request ethan x reader where reader is in on the ghostface thing (but she’s not killing people she just knows about it) and like helps them with stuff (maybe with like faking quinn’s death and stuff like that idk) but also it’s somehow fluffy relationship stuff in there too lol (sorry it’s kinda all over the place😬)

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You were laying on the back on Ethan’s bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. His room was as familiar to you as your own was. You had practically grown up at the Landry’s home, going to school together for your entire lives and staying close to Ethan throughout it all. Once you had hit your senior year in high school, it seemed only fate the two of you would start to date.

You put down your phone with a gentle huff. Ethan was sitting in front of his computer, doing homework. You turned your head to face him, trying to telepathically ask for attention. As if he could read your mind, he spoke. 

“Give me five more minutes.” 

“I told you taking chemistry for your lab credit was dumb,” you said gently, wanting to sneak in an ‘I told you so’ but also not wanting to agitate him. He was brilliant but he couldn’t always grasp the concepts he had too. You suspected some sort of undiagnosed learning disorder but you were far from a doctor. You were just his best friend. 

“I don’t remember you being there when I picked classes,” he said quietly. You rolled your eyes. 

“I was there in spirit.” You grabbed your phone again, flipping onto your stomach. You opened it back up, looking past the screensaver of you and Ethan over the summer before, when you had been on vacation with his family. You reopened Instagram to continue your doom scroll. The first story you opened was that of a friend from school. 

You usually skipped through them, not even registering what they said, but paused at the large bolded letters over a black screen. 

Rip Richie <3 

You didn’t deserve to be caught up in that. 

You squinted, trying to place a Richie that you knew. The first that came to your mind was Ethan’s older brother but just as quickly as the thought came it left. It couldn’t have been him. He was with his girlfriend in Modesto or something. Plus, how would this rando in high school know before you and Ethan? You kept flicking through your friend's stories, confused. Someone had posted a blurry picture of some sort of a crime scene. It was clearly reposted over and over so the picture itself was almost lost. You squinted and then opened your google app.

“Okay I’m done,” Ethan said, shutting his laptop with triumph. “I’m gonna ace that test tomorrow.” He looked over your face and could read you with ease. Something was wrong - or at the very least, confusing. “What?” 

You googled Richies name. A flood of reports came up. Your lips parted in surprise as you looked up at Ethan. 

“What?” he repeated. Before you could explain, his phone rang. You both looked towards where it was resting on the bed beside you. You picked it up. A picture of his dads face was on the screen. 

“Oh God,” you whispered, unable to contain it. 

“What?!” He grabbed his phone and answered it quickly. You sat up, tossing your phone aside and getting off the bed. You knew right now that he was going to be grieving more than you. You had to be there for him. “Hello? Dad?” You stood beside him and watched as his face fell according to the muffled voice coming from the receiver. His eyes were laced with confusion and then a flash of pain. “What do you mean Richie-” He was cut off. 

There were a few more words and then his eyes went dead with emotion. You weren’t sure what to do so you stood beside him. He hung up the phone after a moment and then looked up at you. 

“Richie?” He nodded. His mouth was ajar, stunned. He threw his arms around you and you embraced each other as he stood up. “What happened?” you questioned. He was silent. You didn’t think you were going to get an answer until he spoke, quietly. 

“He was murdered.” 

-

“It’s actually kind of easy to rig the roommate system,” you muttered, sitting at a chair in front of your computer. The room behind you was filled with the remaining Landry’s. 

You turned around to the curious eyes. 

“So he’s in?” Wayne questioned. You nodded. 

“He is going to be Chads Meeks-Martin’s roommate,” you explained. He slapped you on the back in approval. You had always been on good terms with Wayne. He was the kind of dad who would ask if you had a boyfriend and then wink at his son after the question. He had been slightly overjoyed when Ethan told him you were dating. This came only after, he caught you and Ethan making out in his bedroom. It was mortifying but he was pretty okay about it. 

“Thanks kid.” 

Wayne was not on board with telling you about the trio of Ghostfaces he had planned but Ethan insisted. You had been there when he found out about Richie and you had been there through all of his hardships. 

“And you’re okay with coming around my place when we have to…you know…” Quinn made a gesture of slitting her own throat. “I mean, I need someone to drag my body out of there while my dad brings a new one.” 

You tried to ignore your moral dilemma to this. Ethan had promised you wouldn’t be implicated in any of this. But sometimes when Wayne looked at you during this you knew that you would go down with them if he went down. You were in on this now. You couldn’t exactly back out. 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

Quinn smiled brightly. She was slightly too excited about this. Part of you still didn’t think it was actually going to happen. You couldn’t imagine Ethan actually killing anyone, even when his eyes lit up while talking about it. 

“For Richie,” Ethan promised, placing a hand on your back. You nodded, getting up and out of your seat. You gestured to the computer. 

“I didn’t think this is what I would be doing with my computer science classes,” you admitted. Ethan smiled gently at you, ever soft, even when planning people’s literal murders. 

“For some reason I feel like she’s gonna have no problem faking our deaths but is gonna have a major problem not getting to hang out with Ethan everyday,” Quinn teased. You rolled your eyes. You wouldn’t be able to see him when he’s hanging out with his new group of friends. At least, you would have to act like you didn’t know him as closely as you actually did. You were meant to be Quinn’s friend in all of this. 

Wayne was grabbing papers off the table, presumably planning. He actively tried to burn everything after memorizing it. You thought it was dumb of him to write anything else. 

“You gonna be okay?” Ethan questioned, jokingly. You rolled your eyes. 

“You shouldn’t be worried about me E. I’m not the clingy one in this relationship.” 

-

Sam and Tara shouldn’t have been as nice as they were. You recognized the hate in Sam's eyes, the paranoia that was justified. She was out, attempting to get Tara from a party she went to. You sat in the apartment with Quinn. She was working through some homework. You were still amazed she did all that during this planning. 

You walked around her room, making sure that all of the blood that needed to come out, would come out. You liked to double check. You blamed the nerves. 

“Is he supposed to be here soon?” Quinn questioned. You glanced back at her. 

“You know we aren’t supposed to talk that much over the phone.” You were standing on top of her bed. Everything was in place for when your Ghostface arrived. You hopped down. She turned away from her computer. 

“I know you’re not supposed to. I also know he can’t help himself.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Soon. Within the hour,” you admitted. She left her computer open, to show that she was ambushed. You and Quinn were supposed to die tonight at the hands of Ghostface. After Sam and Tara left, he would sneak in and find you both, unsuspecting and oh so helpless. By the time the sisters returned home, you would both be dead, or close to it.

You glanced down at your phone which was still open to your texts with Ethan. 

Can’t wait to stick something in you tonight ;) 

You rolled your eyes, flushed, and turned off your phone. 

Quinn helped you to make sure everything would look as realistic as possible. She explained, again, that they would blame Sam for all of this. Once she was dead and Richie’s death had been paid for, the two of you would be able to return to society as though Ghostface had held you captive. 

You were too far in to back out now. 

You heard the front door open. Quinn shut her blinds so that no one would see Ethan maskless. It had been a couple of weeks since the two of you had been alone (or alone with Quinn). He walked in through the front door, which Sam had left unlocked in her rush, and quickly made his way to Quinn’s room. 

You met him halfway, throwing your arms around him. His laughter was muffled by the voice changer. You took his mask off of him, eager to get your lips on his. You couldn’t believe you were really doing this. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend was going to fake kill you. 

He kissed you before you could get to it. 

“Alright alright love birds,” Quinn grumbled. “Get in the closet Ethan, the girls are gonna be back soon.” 

“Will you give us one sec?” Ethan questioned. Quinn looked like she wanted to argue but knew that an argument would just continue this further than she wanted to. You stood outside of her door, leaving it ajar. He looked around carefully to make sure no windows were in view. You were alone. 

You took the mask from him. You felt it in your fingers. You hadn’t seen him in the outfit yet. You had seen Quinn and you had seen his dad but you hadn’t ever seen him in the full get up. 

“You’re so scary,” you whispered, a buzz in your voice. “I would be terrified.” 

“Are you scared?” He put the mask up to his face. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” You scrunched your nose, shaking your head. 

“What’s that part in the first Stab?” You thought for a minute, pressing yourself up against him. He looked at you with adoration in his eyes. He had missed you desperately. You had grown up together and spending a long time apart was proving to be more difficult than he thought it would be. “Please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface. I wanna be in the sequel!” 

He chuckled lowly and clutched your face, leaning over to kiss you. You let him, relishing in his lips. Who knew when he would slip away again to see you. You would be sentenced to hiding until all of this was over. He placed his other hand on your side, holding you in his grasp. 

“Alright you two! Andele, andele!” Quinn opened up the door. He let you go. You grabbed the mask with both of your hands, rubbing it with your thumb. It was scary. It wouldn’t be hard to act the part. 

“You ready to die?” he asked but his voice was so gentle it was almost comical. It was like he was checking in on you. 

“Yes sir.” 

You put the mask over his face and then he was no longer your boyfriend. He was Ghostface. You slipped into Quinn’s room and prepared for your end. 

-

“Maybe I should’ve joined in on the killing,” you muttered, looking up at the ceiling. You were stuck in the Ghostface shrine that Richie had created. It was fun for a while, considering there was so much to look at, but there were only so many times the Stab movies were interesting to watch. Quinn came and went but mostly went. You weren’t sure where Wayne was keeping her otherwise. 

The burner phone in your pocket buzzed. You quickly reached for it. 

“Hello?” 

“Lemme up.” 

You knew that voice. You also knew he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near here until much later. This room wasn’t even supposed to be found yet. He hung up the phone. You walked to the elevator and pushed the button to lower it. It took a few minutes but you heard it come back after a while. 

Ethan practically threw the gate open. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He threw his arms around you. 

“Those people are really fucking annoying.” You scoffed. You were grateful for the company but not at the behest of his cover. “I missed you.”

“Does your dad know you’re here?”

“I’m supposed to be in a study group.” 

“Skipping study group to see me? Tsk, tsk Ethan.”

“Shush.” 

He dipped his head to kiss you. You put your hands on his cheeks. You melted into him. You tried to imagine what Quinn would’ve said if she was here. Probably some crude joke that all three of you knew to be true in the end. 

You pulled away from him and kissed his jaw as you did so. 

“Bet you’ve never made out in the Stab shrine before,” he questioned jokingly. You scoffed. 

“Alright Ethan,” you scoffed. “How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t wanna talk about feelings,” he whined. “I have to be back soon.” 

“You came all the way up here to have sex in front of all these dead peoples possessions?” He paused. He knew how that sounded. He also knew he had faked your death. He wasn’t super sure how to handle this one. 

“Yes?” 

You narrowed your eyes. 

“I’m not gonna see you before the whole big thing. You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Pillowtalk,” he breathed. You pretended to think. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

-

You sat up against the wall of the backrooms. You dragged him away from the prying eyes of all the killer memorabilia. 

“Are you scared?” you questioned. He had his head resting in your lap. He had to leave soon, you both knew it. 

“No,” he said quietly. “My dad will be there. He wouldn’t let us die when he’s with us.” You were brushing your fingers through his curls. You looked down at his big doe eyes, a faint smile on your face. 

“I’m scared.” 

“Don’t be.” 

“You can’t stop me,” you promised. He rolled his eyes. He hummed pleasantly from your touch. “You’ll be safe, yeah?”

“I’m going to kill someone.”

“I know. I know.” You tried not to think of it. You couldn’t imagine his eyes going black, killing people without remorse. Even when he was rushing at you with the knife, you knew he was just Ethan. “I still want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe.” 

“You have to go.” He groaned. You pushed him gently so he would get off of you. You would be stuck here. Maybe you would have another Stab marathon. You were beginning to like even the shitty ones. Stab 3 started to become an odd comfort. “I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

“You promise?” 

“Yeah E. I promise.”

[robexp03]

Horse Whispers - Chapter 2

And so, without a worry for the future, and with the uncertain promise of achieving my all important personal goals, I turned the reins of the stud farm over to my foreman, and told him to be prepared to run it in my absence for some time.  I met the doctor at a local restaurant and there he had the necessary papers for me to sign.  It did not occur to me that the venue seemed out of context.  All I had on my mind were my goals.  After I signed the agreements, he gave me his card and said that I should report to the address he wrote on the back. 

“I have assembled my team and they will be expecting you tomorrow” he emphasized. “Oh yes” he said reaching into his pocket. “Take 2 of these every two hours beginning now until you fall asleep tonight. They will help you relax, but they will also prepare your body, and begin phase one of the treatment. I will see you very soon Mr. Omen.”  He watched as I took the first two pills.

“Please Doctor, you can call me Cody,” I said to his retreating back. He gave me a small smile and nod over his shoulder.

I drove home and got into my black running skins and took off to do a little cross-country workout. I love skins. Their smooth tight luster is the next best thing to naked running. And it pleased the little exhibitionist in me that every muscle and fiber of my physique was clearly visible as they slid and pumped under my skins. And even though my cock and balls are not huge, they still make a very nice V basket as they get held firmly in place by the crotch piece. I had long ago learned that support of my tool paid off in many ways. Damage control certainly, but a well stuffed pouch is a fine trolling lure as well, and many a nice gay guy gave himself away by the appraising look he gave me.

I had only gone about 2 miles when I noticed that my ears were ringing. I stopped to take my pulse, but it was well within my recovery range. Blood pressure perhaps? Well the doctor hadn’t told me what was in the pills, so maybe a short rest. I sat down beside Paint Creek and idly tossed pebbles into it. The gurgling murmurs of the flowing water almost sounded like someone whispering just out of earshot, and slightly beyond understanding. The ringing subsided.  I guess the great peace of the grassy bank overtook me and I laid down to let the sun soak into my tired muscles.  As I began to drift mentally toward sleep, an oddly disturbing thought surfaced briefly. He drugged you, stupid! Hmmm…. Another thought murrrred. I wonder…

(((((((((((((((((((( -------------------- ))))))))))))))))))))

            “Well Doctor, that was certainly fast” I quietly said to Dr. DeBiron.

“Yes.” The doctor nodded. “It must be a result of his high metabolism,” he added as he checked the pulse of the slender body lying at our feet. “Jerrod, you position yourself at his head.  In the unlikely event that he should awaken before I can get him completely sedated, it is your responsibility to catch and hold his attention immediately, diverting it from me completely. Be certain to speak to him calmly and softly. Remember that he will be very susceptible to suggestion, but he may be easily agitated. ”

I nodded as I lifted Codys’ shoulders off the ground, and wondered what I had gotten myself into.

(((((((((((((((((((( -------------------- ))))))))))))))))))))

To be continued

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Could I request a laurel x fem!reader

Reader is struggling with mental health and loading control of her powers and a few certain students billing her doesn’t help,she tells laurel and the students are the next victims of the Hyde, Wednesday starts suspecting that it’s reader and starts acusing her of doing it and shouting at reader , laurel defends reader and then they go back to laurels room and they are cuddling just as reader is falling asleep laurel is like “don’t worry darling, soon Wednesday and all these wretched people will be gone soon,and it will be just you and me forever” or somthing like that

(Love your works okay byeee)

Yesss here it is!! I hope you like it!! Sorry about the language mistakes.

Don't worry honey, they are already dead

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x Fem Student! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, mental health, fluff, mentions of death

Word count: 3,505

Summary: You were not happy at Nevermore and your mental health was disturbed due to the bullying you were suffering. But you have her, and she is trying hard to help you, anyway.

N/A: Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

Dr. Kinbott said that walks around the school could be good for you, but she was wrong. The only thing you got was thinking more about things, about your problems. You never fully integrated into Nevermore, and most of your classmates didn't do anything to talk to you either. It was like hell for you.

The situation was so serious that due to the state you were in, your powers began to get out of control. You had already broken 3 windows accidentally. Fortunately Principal Weems was understanding, and she understood that telekinetic powers are unpredictable and very susceptible to emotions, especially bad ones.

There was only one thing that kept you from running and not looking back, but you couldn't even say how much you loved her, it was a forbidden, clandestine love.

“Hey, man, look, here goes the crazy glass breaker,” a boy, one of the stupidest in the academy, told his two friends, pointing at you.

You looked towards them, but decided to try to ignore them and continued on your way.

“Hey you!” Another of the boys said, walking towards you. You tried to quicken your pace, but they soon caught you up.

“Where are you going so fast?”

You shook your head and tried to avoid them, but two of them got in front of you and when you turned around, the worst of all was there too. You started to get nervous, and you looked around for help, but it was late, there was no one outside.

“What, what do you want?”  You asked, grabbing your bag firmly and doing the relaxation exercises that the doctor taught you.

“You have broken my room’s window, crazy girl,” a boy said. You shook your head, beginning to overwhelm you.

“I, I'm sorry,” you murmured.

“Are you sorry? Have you heard that guys? The crazy girl says she's sorry.”

After that comment the other two laughed defiantly. The boy grabbed you tightly by the shirt.

“Your apologies are useless to me. Do you have any idea how cold you are making me go through at night?”

You were scared and nervous, seeing how you had no chance to escape, not even the academy janitor was around, cleaning the sheets like he used to do. You were cornered, and that was a bad thing.

“I think, I think they gave you another room,” you replied, not wanting to challenge him, but unable to stop it from sounding that way.

“Guys, look, the stupid girl is challenging me. What do you think if we make her feel what it's like to be cold?”

The three of them emitted sinister laughter and grabbed you in such a way that any movement was useless. You cried and tried to get away, but your powers were capricious, and once you needed them, they didn't show up. They dragged you to the jetty preventing any attempt by you to get away and without thinking twice, they threw you into the icy lake’s water with sinister laughter.

"Get cool, crazy!” They yelled, watching how you stirred in the water.

Swimming nervously, you came to lean on the wood, but the fright made you lack the strength to climb. One of the boys pushed you down again, and you sank back into the lake. You couldn't stand it anymore. You poked your head out of the water and narrowed your eyes. A tremor shook the wooden pier, causing it to break and go in the direction of the bullies, who backed away in fright.

“Let's get out of here!” One of them yelled, running back towards the academy. Everything was quiet and you swam towards the shore unable to distinguish the lake water from your tears.

“(Y/N)?” Said a girl who approached you. You knew her, she was one of the few nice people at school, Enid Sinclair, and she was with Wednesday Addams, who never did anything to you either. “What happened to you?”

The werewolf helped you out of the water and crouched down next to you.

“Are you okay?” Young Addams asked, crouching down as well.

You shook your head, realizing a detail that would end up ruining your afternoon. In your bag you kept the class works, and there was nothing left of them, only wet paper. Wednesday  looked at you and looked around.

“Who was it? The usual ones?” She asked you. You nodded slightly.

“Do you want us to call the principal?” Enid asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“N, no… Miss Thornhill, please go look for her…” You said sobbing.

Marilyn Thornhill was what kept you at least a thread of sanity. She was always nice to you and you hit it off right away. She was your teacher, yes, but you loved her, and she… She loves you too. You don't quite remember how it happened, but it did. She was your forbidden love, and you were hers. You met each other at the conservatory or at her room, secretly. If anyone found out, it would be the end of you. She was always there for you, and she promised you that one day both of you would run away together, far, far away from Nevermore. You couldn't wait for that day to come.

Wednesday looked at Enid and nodded, indicating that she should do as you asked. She sat next to you, looking at you with her usual expressionless face.

“You don't have to put up with that,” she told you, as if she was trying with all her might to feel sorry for you. You just looked up.

“Sometimes I wish my powers would get completely out of control, and…” You stopped before you could say something you might regret. “I try to control myself, really, but these things make it very difficult for me.”

“Are you usually out of control?” The brunette asked, in a different tone, as if she had suddenly realized something.

“What?”

“On Outreach Day a bum threatened you with a knife, didn't he?”

You nodded, not understanding what she had just asked you. Yes, your bad luck crossed the walls of the school. Fortunately Marilyn appeared to help you, dissuading that man from the robbery.

“The next day that man was found dead,” Wednesday sentenced, in a somehow accusatory tone.

“So what?” You asked, startled at what seemed like a serious insinuation.

“Nothing,” she simply said. “I just find it curious.”

Before you could say anything else, Marilyn ran up with Enid. She looked briefly at Wednesday and crouched down next to you, caressing your cheek.

“(Y/N), honey, are you alright?” She asked you almost whispering, horrified to see you in that state. “Has anyone seen what happened?”

Both girls shook their heads. She sighed and took off her coat, putting it over your shoulders.

“Come on, honey,” she told you, helping you up. “You should go back inside.”

There were no people in the corridors, it was already late. Marilyn hugged you as she led you to her room. She didn't say anything, she was just by your side, just how she knew you needed her.

“Sit down my love,” she told you, pointing to her bed. You obeyed, sheltering yourself in her coat, you were shivering with cold. Marilyn sighed and crouched down in front of you.

“Honey, you know who did this to you, right?” She asked you with a soft voice. You didn't want to answer, you just looked away. “Honey, if you don't tell me, I can't…”

“I don't need you to do anything,” you said. You were scared of the consequences you might have by telling her. The redhead looked at you with pity and she grabbed your chin, giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

“You have to take off those wet clothes. You're going to get sick. Look, let's do something, I'm going to prepare a bath for you to warm up.”

You looked at her and nodded. A hot bath was what you wanted at that moment. Marilyn went to the bathroom and she ran the bath for you with the water as hot as you liked.

“Let's see, get rid of those wet clothes. She told you, removing her coat from your shoulders. You started to tremble, but not just because of the cold, but because of the fact that to take a bath, you would have to undress. Surely your cheeks would be red, and Marilyn noticed.

“I can go if you feel more comfortable,” she told you, with an innocent smile. You reached out and grabbed her wrist, shaking your head.

“No, no… Stay with me, please,” you whispered.

She helped you to undress, and although it was a little awkward at first, Marilyn took it upon herself to tell you how beautiful your body was on several occasions, so you stopped feeling embarrassed. It was the first time you had undressed in front of her, and you were deeply sorry that it was under those circumstances.

The hot water relaxed you a lot, and you felt really good. Marilyn was next to you, caressing you gently. You were sad, sad and desperate, wondering why life was so unfair to you. Her touch and the water were soothing, but you needed something more, and after a while, you worked up the courage to ask for it.

“Marilyn…” You sighed. She looked at you with a smile, and she nodded for you to speak. “Could you... Well... Maybe... Would you like... Join me?” You lowered your head immediately after saying that sentence. She sighed.

“(Y/N), we've already discussed this... You know I don't want your first time to be between these walls... I'm just asking you for some time and...”

“No, no, it's not that,” you interrupted, feeling a chill at the thought of what she had understood. “I just want you to hug me, please… I need you.”

The redhead seemed to think about it, but she accepted, undressing as well. You tried not to look, but at the same time you couldn't help it. She told you to move forward a bit and she climbed into the tub with you, pulling you back so your head rested on her chest.

“Oh, honey... If you only know how much I love you,” she whispered into your ear, hugging you under the water. “This will all be over soon, I promise.”

You turned around, unable to hold back the tears that had formed in your eyes and hugging her tight. She stroked you to relax and put her arms around you, pulling you against her.

“I don't know how much more I can take it, Marilyn… I want to get out of here,” you sobbed into her shoulder.

“Shh, my love… Hold on a little longer. But you have to do something for me... You have to tell me who threw you into the lake, I just want to know,” she told you, cupping your face with her hands.

You thought if it was a good idea, but something in your mind told you that you should tell her, at least to get it off your chest, you know she would never say anything to Principal Weems, she would never put you in danger.

“It, it was Billy, Josh, and Dalton,” you confessed, after which you returned to bury your head in her chest.

“I imagined so…” She said, not surprised at all. “(Y/N), do you want to stay the night with me? I wouldn't want you to spend the night alone.” Your face suddenly lit up and you nodded profusely. No one was waiting for you in your bedroom anyway.

You both got out of the tub and Marilyn spent a lot of time helping you dry off. If she hadn't been there, surely Jericho's glazier would have more work the next day.

“Go to my closet and take whatever you want, honey, I'll be with you right away,” she told you, kissing you softly.

The next morning was strange. On the one hand, waking up hugging Marilyn was something exciting, the most tender thing you had ever experienced. On the other hand, while going to class you heard horribly disturbing news. Those three boys, the three boys who threw you into the lake, turned up horribly murdered in the woods. You didn't know how to feel. They would never mess with you again, but they were dead, and you couldn't be happy about that. It was impossible for you to concentrate on the whole morning. You knew it wasn't your fault, but a strange feeling of remorse appeared on your conscience, the day before you wished they would die, at least in your thoughts, and that wish was fulfilled, and in a horrible way.

“It wasn't your fault, honey,” Marilyn told you, giving you a crystal glass. It was already well into the afternoon, and as always, you were in the conservatory. She wasn't a psychologist, or a therapist, but she tried to help you to control your powers, and she was with you if you had a crisis.

You nodded and picked up the glass, which as soon as it came into contact with your hand, began to crack.

“Calm down, (Y/N), take a deep breath and close your eyes.”

You were already nervous, and that was counterproductive. You noticed how the redhead's hands grabbed your waist.

“No, I don't think I can do it,” you said, sensing that this glass would end up in pieces, like the previous ones.

“Of course you can, try it. Think about beautiful things, about how happy we are going to be…” She whispered to you, resting her head on your shoulder.

You obeyed, and without being able to believe it, the glass did not explode, it remained cracked, but intact. You had made a breakthrough.

“Yeah, I got it,” you said, not believing what had just happened.

“Do you see, sweetie?” Marilyn said, turning around and kissing you softly. “There's nothing you can't do...”

You were happy, you had managed to control your powers even after what had happened with those boys. It was very important to you not to break everything you touched, and you never managed to do that.

Marilyn looked at you smiling, giving you little kisses, while she caressed your cheek.

“Ahem, am I interrupting something?” A dark voice startled you. It was Wednesday Addams, scowling at you.

Marilyn immediately released you and shook her head, her whole body began to tremble, just like yours.

“Wednesday, what are you doing here?” The redhead asked, knowing that the young woman hadn't just arrived.

“Apparently interrupting an embarrassing act of child abuse,” She said ironically. Marilyn's eyes widened, froze. You decided to defend her, and by the way defend yourself.

“I'm of legal age. I can do whatever I want…” You hissed, noticing how the conservatory windows began to shake.

“I don't care, (Y/N), it's still disgusting. I’m asking myself what Principal Weems would say if she finds out about this... “ She said, not giving importance to your dangerously nervous state. You and Marilyn looked at each other, knowing that your life was about to change abruptly. “But don't worry, Miss Thornhill, oddly enough you are not the most dangerous person in this room.”

“What are you saying, Wednesday?” She asked, terribly embarrassed.

“How did revenge taste to you? Judging by how those boys appeared, you must have been very comfortable,” Wednesday told you, crossing her arms.

You didn't understand anything, but you soon understood where she was going. You shook your head nervously.

“I haven't done anything,” you said seriously.

“Of course. First Rowan, who you said was stalking you, is mysteriously torn to pieces by a hideous monster on the day of the harvest festival. Then that homeless man, who tried to rob you the Outreach Day, and finally, the bullies who made your life miserable. I only have one question left, what had poor Eugene done to you? Surely he would be one of the best to treat you.”

She was accusing you of being a monster, a murderer. You knew it wasn't true, but you were nervous, and soon you would lose your nerve.

“Wednesday, that's enough. You are making very serious accusations to a classmate, you should be ashamed,” Marilyn said, passing a hand over your shoulder.

“You'd better not lecture me, and stay away from her before she tears you to pieces when she realizes you're just taking advantage of her.”

“You're gambling, Addams…” Marilyn hissed, her eyes dark.

“(Y/N), come on, you should confess, we're in confidence here. Most serial killers have had a life similar to yours, it is not something strange.”

Your breathing accelerated and your nerves were getting out of control little by little.

“No, no, I'm not a monster! I haven't killed anyone!” You yelled. The cracked glass on the table finally burst.

“You’re lying!" Wednesday yelled.

“Enough!” Marilyn also yelled, fearing for your stability. “Wednesday, get out of here, now!”

“No way, not until (Y/N) pays for everything she has done. But I congratulate you, I love that bullies get what they deserve.”

You soon noticed that you were short of breath, and that was an unmistakable sign that something bad was going to happen, you were about to have a crisis, and being in a glass building was not the most appropriate.

“Wednesday, she is innocent,” Marilyn said, watching with fear how all the walls of the conservatory began to vibrate.

“She can tell that to the sheriff. Tell me (Y/N), where were you last night? There was no light on your room,” she kept insisting.

“What? No... I don't...” You said nervously, beginning to move your arms to your head, trying not to blow up the entire building. You ended up kneeling on the ground

“(Y/N)? Calm down my love, calm down,” Marilyn crouched down next to you and tried to reassure you as she could. Wednesday didn't say anything else, she just looked scared as the crystals trembled. “It's okay, you haven't done anything, you're innocent, you're good… You have to calm down, do it for me… Come on.”

Marilyn's soft words took effect and instead of breaking the windows, you let all your frustration out in the form of a disconsolate plain.

“Where were you last night?” Wednesday asked when the building was out of danger.

“She was with me, you stupid brat,” The redhead replied harshly. You had never heard her speak in that tone, but it was to defend you, so deep down you loved it. “Now you'd better get out of here, or I'll have to call Weems.”

“Do it, she will love to know what you’re doing with your students.”

Marilyn laughed sinisterly and stood up, leaving you kneeling on the floor. Her look totally changed, she almost didn't seem like the same person.

“Do you think she would believe you, Wednesday? You're on the verge of expulsion, and Larissa trusts me. You can try if you want, but I think you would lose out,” she hissed, approaching the brunette in a threatening manner.

Wednesday didn't say anything, she even seemed a bit scared by the redhead's attitude. Glaring you murderously, she turned and walked out of the building. Marilyn snorted and ran her hand over the back of her neck, going over to where you were and helping you up.

“Come, let's go to my room.”

Once there you were silent, lying on the bed. Marilyn hugged and caressed you gently, her eyes lost. You had been through a lot of emotions that day, and you couldn't stop crying.

“You…You believe me, right?” You asked, sobbing.

“Of course I believe you, (Y/N), you haven't done anything,” she told you softly, putting you on top of her chest.

“I don't know why this is happening to me. Wednesday didn't seem like a bad person... And... And... On top of that, she knows about us, Weems will fire you, for sure, and then...”

“Shh… It’s okay honey, it’s okay. Close your eyes and try to rest. I'm here with you, and nothing is gonna happen,” she told you in an extremely relaxing tone. You nodded and did as she told you. Little by little a terrible fatigue began to enter you, due to the tension that you had suffered minutes before.

“That's it, baby... Sleep...” She told you in a very low voice, continuing to caress you. “Listen to me (Y/N). There are no exceptions, Wednesday is the same as all of them, despicable brats. But don’t be afraid, none of them can ever hurt you again. It will be the end of all of them soon, and then we can be happy together, far from this Nevermore dump, and all its inhabitants. There will be no one else in the world but you and me, we will always be together, I promise you.”

You nodded, not sure if you had heard her words correctly, because you were already falling asleep.

[donnerpartyofone]

At one point when I was trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me, I saw a psychologist who had a holistic angle that I liked the sound of. She ran this crazy battery of blood tests, and told me that I had the highest copper levels she'd ever seen. She explained to me that the inability to properly metabolize copper is connected to depression and anxiety, and suddenly things started to make sense to me.

I do not have it as bad as I might, which would mean Wilson's disease, which has been historically mistaken for schizophrenia. But it did seem to help explain my lifelong, severe depression and anxiety. And it also had some kind of satisfyingly poetic resonance vis-a-vis my problems with femininity. Copper has this Venusian association, and is also therefore associated with Taurus, which I happen to be, and I always felt burdened by this ultra-feminine assignment. I have certainly always felt like a woman but I never felt like I was permitted to enter the feminine world. My mother seemed to kind of hate me right out of the gate for some obscure personal reason (and/or because I'm crazy). I had a much harder time getting along with girls than with boys. My main interests were all considered traditionally masculine. As a teenager, I could never figure out any of the feminine beauty or seduction rituals, and I didn't have the kind of friends who would teach me them. I rarely have a period if I don't take a pill about it, I don't have problems with PMS, and I have absolutely no maternal feelings whatsoever, so I cannot achieve community with my fellow women through those items. As a straight female, I have always felt like a fucking alien.

^And because of all that, it made some kind of sense to me that my mind is being poisoned by an excess of copper--the Venus metal--which my body doesn't know what to do with. Like of course it is. Duh, even. Unfortunately this knowledge didn't really lead to a breakthrough. The doctor who figured it out prescribed this giant menu of nutritional supplements I was supposed to take, including a boner pill-sounding compound called Enhancer Adult-1, which is usually used by Alzheimer's patients to reduce heavy metal-related inflammation in the brain (if I'm even remembering that right). I don't remember how well this all worked, since I had an extremely stressful job at the time, and I also couldn't keep up with the extremely expensive and extensive blood tests, and also taking that many supplements at once made me sick. I have never been so directly aware of the fact that nutrition is really best taken in food, not in pill form.

I guess I'm thinking about all this for a confluence of random reasons. One is that I have to have filtered water to avoid taking on extra copper that way, and in my experience home water filters are often slow and unpredictable and I often hit a point in the day where I'm like, oh well, I guess I'm not allowed to drink anymore water. Not like it's the basis of all life or anything. Oh well. Another thing I was just thinking about, while we're packing up to move and throwing things out, is how incredibly susceptible to supplement hype I am, even though I've had bad experiences because of it. I saw some ad on TV the other day, it was on mute and I was trying to guess what it was for; it just showed a woman of a certain age doing a variety of unrelated, pleasurable activities. Finally the product came up and, as far as I could tell, it was a daily pill for your entire recommended fruit intake, and a daily pill for your entire recommended vegetable intake. I thought, God that's so dystopian. Isn't that a trope in dystopian sci-fi, where future people get all their meals from capsules? Is that in "In the Year 2525"? I know this is a thing, I must be able to think of examples. And finally I realized that what I was really remembering was SANTA CLAUS CONQUERS THE MARTIANS, a movie I find so fascinating that I've seen it many times WITHOUT the classic MST3K commentary.

But this just makes me think, maybe I need more Martian energy. Fuck off with this poisonous Venusian crap that's giving me depression and andrenal dysfunction and chronic fatigue and everything. Maybe I got that iron deficiency. Maybe I need to move to the fucking planet of Mars.

[saphhicwitchbitch]

Imagine: if aziraphale had used the gun in the book.

Hi! I just copied my writing from a previous reblog so that i could have the scenario as mine on my blog.

The final encyclopaedia crashed down the stairs.

"What are you going to do now. You are surrounded. Your humans can no longer fight. Your dear, dear Crowley hasn't come back for his pet. You are alone. You are out of options. You are helpless angel". Shax smirked as the final word slithered out of her mouth. Her tone condescending and triumphant as she had seemingly won.

A smirk also glided onto Aziraphales face, "Actually, you are wrong"

Shax had not expected such confidence from her enemy. Sure, angels were known for their high and mighty cockiness but surely, surely they could recognize defeat?

What shax had not realized, firstly, is that Aziraphale had not once utilised any of his angelic powers or training. He had once been the protector of the eastern gate, and that job was not given to any lightweights, it was the same reason why he was supposed to lead a batallion if Armageddon hadn't been thwarted by him and Crowley. Secondly, and this relates to the failure of the end of times, Aziraphale doesn't do well taking instructions and doing what he is told. It's how he has fumbled his way through the millenia he has been on the surface. Sure, he followed heavenly orders when he wanted to, but as soon as they wanted him to do something he didn't necessarily agree with, all bets were off the table. He didn't ask, he just did and it was heavens poor monitoring of this principality that allowed his nature in the way he does things to be a bit more frivolous. Thirdly, and this is one of the most important bits, you don't get through centuries in London without picking up a few bits here and there, going a bit native as the heavenly order might say.

"What-What do you mean 'actually you are wrong'? You are helpless to my legion! You have no help! Crowley and heaven have left you behind! You are nothing in comparison to me!"

"Again, you are wrong" gently spoke Aziraphale, a polite smile now occupying his face as he gently reached to grab a copy of 'The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde (and other stories)'. Gently he glided his fingers over the leather cover, he first got this book a few years after it's release in 1886. It has caught his eye in around 1893 when publishers decided to compile this story and the works of others in one book. And while he would have like to have individual copies of each story, he couldn't resist the beautiful binding of the book at that time. Of course, this didn't matter too much in the long run as by 1927 he had come into possession of hand binded copies of each story. Which is why he felt no particular remorse when....editing this version.

"What are you doing, now is not the time to be caressing a dusty book Mr Fell," whispered Nina in a hushed but agitated voice. The demons were starting to slowly move in again after being at ease for the few seconds in which Shax had been talking and Nina would quite like to make her way out of this alive thank you very much.

"Listen to the human,"Shax spoke." Stop delaying and plead for forgiveness at the ruthless claws of my demons!"

" Oh you are still quite incorrect i'm afraid. You see, it will be your army that will need to be asking her grace for forgiveness soon enough."

With a rapid movement Aziraphale had flipped open the book, pulled out a small hand gun and lifted it to eye level, finger resting in the trigger.

Shax laughed, "A gun! You couldn't possibly dream of harming us with that human contraption!"

"Incorrect once again I'm afraid. You see your mortal bodies are susceptible to human wounds, a bullet in the right place would discorporate you. However, as precaution this gun has been consecrated and each bullet blessed using holy water. Forget inconveniently discorporated, you will be permanently gone. I didn't want to use this, violence has never really been my fortitude but i have warned you many times and asked you politely to leave a plethora more. Now I'm fed up and just want to keep Nina and Maggie safe. Get out of my book shop!"

His index finger squeezed the trigger and a bullet flew straight though a demons head. Immediately discorporating them and leaving their body to slowly break down on the floor at Shax's feet.

[smileysvech]

Babe I’m dying to know how you managed to break your hip (if you’re comfortable sharing ofc!) at the ripe ‘ol age of 22 bc same lol

technically I wasn’t even 22 yet 💀

but here’s the funny thing: I don’t know how I broke it and neither did my doctor and he told me I was “a medical mystery” 🤪

I didn’t have any major accidents or falls, I wasn’t playing sports or doing intense exercising, never had any bruising around my hip then one day I started feeling pain in my hip/groin area and thought I might’ve pulled a muscle and just limped around for a week and the pain went away then a few weeks later it came back and this time it was sooooo much worse and I felt it in my back now and I thought I pinched a nerve so I went to the doctor and I got an x ray and they found two fractures in my hip THAT WERE ALREADY HEALING ON THEIR OWN

so after some blood testing, found out I was severely vitamin D deficient and had low iron so maybe that played a part in my bones being more susceptible to breaking??? idk but tldr: idk how I broke my hip and my doctor never gave me a definitive explanation either

HOW DID YOU BREAK YOUR HIP?

[likemmmcookies]

Hi i saw you comment on thebibliosphere's iron post that you have secret small red blood cell anemia type thing? Me too!! If youre comforable sharing, any treatments that have worked/not worked for you, useful tests related symtoms, etc? My doc isnt tkaing it seriously so i appreciate any info, thanks! Ps just wanna make sure you know that taking vitamin c with iron can help you absorb iron, and taking it with calcium can hinder iron absorbtion

Hello! This is going to be a really loooong one so buckle in.

For long time, every RBC-related test result came back bad for me. Low hemoglobin, low red cell count, low blood volume, low MCV, and low red cell distribution. My cells were small, I didn't have enough of them, and they weren't binding iron. I've had anemia pretty much my whole life. At my second to last blood panel a couple years ago, my primary care dr noticed I was taking 50 mg of high absorption iron (and eating high iron foods) but still experiencing anemia symptoms. My hemoglobin came back too low again and she basically went "hmm - weird! take more iron," which is crazy because i was already taking way more than I should need. The person who figured it out, was of all things, my psych med doctor after I mentioned that result off-hand in an appointment. She is pretty holistic and keeps up to date on new research and is generally a rock star. So finding a holistic doctor is the first treatment step.

She asked if I'd ever gotten an iron profile test, which includes serum iron (how much iron is bound to transferrin, which is the protein in blood that binds the iron and carries it to your red blood cells), ferritin levels (how much iron is just hanging out in your blood unused), and total iron binding capacity (indicates how well your body is actually binding the iron sitting around in your body). I hadn't had this panel before, so I got one, and the results indicated that the iron was kind of there, and what was there was being bound by transferrin, but NOT in the quantities that it should be considering how much iron i was getting. My blood should have been chalk full of iron just sitting around. So this indicated an absorption issue and a not-enough-blood-cells issue.

Then my psych doctor asked if I'd ever had my b12 levels tested (nope!) and told me about pernicious anemia, which is when you're deficient in b12, which impairs your body's ability to make red blood cells. It's indicated by low red cell counts, small red blood cells, stubborn anemia that doesn't improve with iron supplements, and the easiest indicator - literally getting a b12 test and it coming back low. It's incredibly easy to test. I had one doctor years ago test my B levels and they came back slightly lower than normal but not enough to set off a flag for her, which is also stupid, because of my long history of anemia.

Okay so onto b12. If your b12 levels are low, it causes anemia as a secondary issue since your body can't make enough RBCs. So taking iron will do fuck-all if you don't have enough b12 to make the cells in the first place. I got a b12 test and it came back low-ish again. My psych doctor concluded I have both pernicious anemia AND regular anemia, which made me extra susceptible to the low b12 levels but let that issue fly under the radar for all my other doctors. My b12 level was a concern, but in a regular person without anemia it wouldn't have set off alarm bells.

So what causes low b12 levels? There are a lot of things (like diabetes or certain autoimmune disorders), but most often it's caused by something GI related: not getting enough b12 in your diet, abdominal surgery, IBS, Crohns, etc. Which makes the first solution to try easy: take more b12 (you'll want to take methylated b12, its more expensive but it really makes a difference). If that doesn't work, the next step is to look at what's keeping your body from absorbing it. For me, it was autoimmune and IBS-related and I had to see a special integrative medicine doctor to fix my GI (these issues were also keeping me from absorbing enough iron). That was a whole thing, and expensive, but it made a huge difference. After a while I was able to stop taking b12 supplements and cut back on iron by half because I was finally absorbing it and my body was properly able to use it. For the first time in my life, I got a blood panel back that was totally normal (good, even!).

In summary: 1. find a doctor that is more holistic if possible, 2. Get an iron profile test 3. get a B12 test, and go from there. If your doctor continues to not take you seriously, at least you have your test results to go off of and you can mess around with supplements and diet on your own. If you're taking all the supplements and eating the right foods, but none of it is showing up in your blood, I'd recommend trying a probiotic too. The iron profile test will give you a lot of info about what is causing the anemia because it identifies where the problem is in the chain of iron into your body -> iron on your blood cells. Do be careful with b12 though and get tested again if you start taking supplements, because getting too much b12 can be as bad as not getting enough. And finally, try taking your iron in chunks of days instead of every day. My psych med doctor said basically there's like absorption fatigue from getting it every day. I switched to taking higher doses every 2-3 days instead of spreading it all out and it's possible that also helped with absorption. It also lets you offset when you take calcium since you can alternate days. It's worth a try.

I hope any of this helps!! If you read this entire thing, congratulations and I'm sorry. 😅 Please feel free to send more asks or DMs about this issue.

ETA: I just realized I confused b12 for vitamin D in terms of high levels. Lots of b12 is FINE if it's a result of diet. You'll just pee the extra out.

[newwayastrology]

Gut Health & The Horoscope

My last Saturn Return was deep. After burying my mother I went to the doctor to see about what I thought was a knee issue. What I got was, "Basil, it's not a knee problem, it's Multiple Sclerosis." What? Huh? I asked him what causes it and how to get rid of it. He said that don't know what causes it or how to reverse it "but we can manage it." In other words, the system is set up so that you take medicine forever but always have the disease, no matter what it is but especially with autoimmune diseases, you will always have it if you listen to doctors. I was telling a client about it that evening and his response was, "Man, MS ain't nothin' but mucus on the brain. I'll turn you on to this great healer and you'll get rid of it. He did turn me on to Dr. Sebi and within 6 months, my doctor, with a puzzled look on his face after looking at the MRI of my brain and spine, said, "I've never seen this before. Your MS is gone." I told him what I'd done and he looked at me like, "Oh c'mon Basil. You were just lucky." I learned a LOT about food, nutrition, and the human body through the healer, Dr. Sebi, so much so that I have an eBook that details all you need to know to be healthy and get rid of a disease. The top of the list thing I learned is that poor health begins in the gut. There are things that we are taught to eat that store mucus and toxins in the body, starting with the gut so if the digestive health isn't good, the mucus and toxins impact an organ and you are diseased. Breast cancer, poor eyesight, blood pressure, prostate issues.....it's all the same thing, mucus and toxins from eating things that are acidic. The human body is alkaline, the opposite of acidity. Bottom line.....if your horoscope has planets in Cancer or Virgo in the 6th or 12th that receive hard aspects, you are more susceptible to poor gut health becoming a problem that can become a disease issue in the aging process. Also, if Saturn is in or rules the 6th or 12th and Pluto is squaring, opposing, or conjunct Saturn in the horoscope, susceptibility to critical illness is higher than normal via the aging process. Poor eating habits begin as a child. There's lots of things that we eat that are no good for us, so much so that when you tell somebody, not only will they not believe you but they will continue eating it. Doctors are not trained in nutrition. The neurologist that I had graduated from Drexel to get his PhD. He went to school for 11 years and told me that in 11 years there were 6 hours on "basic nutrition" that was all really basic stuff that is wrong. This is why cardiologists and, say, proctologists also die from the same heart and colon issues that their patients die from. My mother was taking blood pressure pills for 47 years. Her doctor died from a heart attack. To me, the way things are set up is like joining a gym and your instructor is 5-3 and weighs 300 pounds. If you know nothing about nutrition, how can you help illness? People don't think that way. There is no emphasis in society on it. People believe that doctors are the sole answer. If that's the case, everyone's MS would get reversed!!!!!

[ariannasenvolant]

dreams money could buy

april 25, 2024 10:25pm

no, i do not use military time. the other day, I had use a calculator for 20-8. So much for mental math. When it comes to number I feel dumb. I think I was the smartest I ever was when I was 13 in eighth grade learning algebra 1.

but that is besides the point. today i am talking about mental health. my mental health.

there is a lot going on in my mind currently.

i feel like i have no one to talk to at school. i am lacking friends who share the same classes as me and who are getting the same education. the only reason why i finding myself to want this, is because there are things i'd like to talk and discuss about, nurture and supplement my own curiosities with people who share a similar interest and already have background knowledge on the topic.

i feel like i am trying to be better person. i feel this way because i am no longer giving into toxic behavior that affect other people. i notice myself missing something, dopamine, i guess, and i resort to doing other things, like writing this post, as a healthier alternative.

i have a friend who has his phone on do not disturb most of the time, and it annoys me because i feel like it makes it difficult to contact him when i would like to. his responses and call backs are delayed due to him not receiving my notifications. but it is not something i could complain about to him, because it's his phone and his time, and his life. if he doesn't want to be disturbed, who am i to interrupt his peace?

have you guys heard about the Crumbley family case? the 15 year old school shooter who got sentenced to life in prison, but his parents also went to jail for giving him open access to a firearm and ignoring the warning signs. this is the first time parents were being held legally responsible for their child's actions. i was listening to a Vox Today podcast on this topic, and one concern was parents being afraid of going to jail for bad parenting. It is already hard to be a parent, but now the government is getting involved, and is that fair? here are my thoughts:

first i study children's mental health and psychopathy in school, so I have a bias. my bias: it all starts from home.

many of children's externalizing behavior, such as them acting out are responses to their home environments. Adverse childhood experiences, such as child abuse, neglect, maltreatment, trauma, exposure to substances, poverty, violent environments, etc, all make children more susceptible to mental illness. The more experiences you have, the higher your likelihood of being xyz. In addition, about 30% of mental health outcomes is genetic. 70% is social/enviromental, regarding education, economic status, community, access to care (doctors), and neighborhood.

What I am trying to say that these kids aren't just "bad," they're probably hurt, traumatized, not understood, and not getting the proper care they need.

Another thing to think about is that the child/adolescent brain is still developing! Kid's emotional capabilities is developed by 16, but their rational thinking isn't fully developed until 25. So they feel everything but they are still learning how to regulate their emotions, thoughts, and behavior. Kids think in short term more than long term, as adults do. they are more peer influenced and reward driven, as the dopamine makes them feel good. on top of that, hormones are affecting their bodies, and their quality of sleep affects mind and behavior as well.

I do not think that a bad child is bad for life. The fact that Ethan Crumbley got sentenced for life is unfortunate. He was trialed as an adult, even though he was 15. But he took 4 lives so, I also understand why he got the sentence he did.

His parents going to jail as well is very important. It shared the blame. No longer is a child solely responsible for their own actions, it is now a collective one. Ethan told his parents about his troubling thoughts and hallucinations and they laughed him off. And they also give him a gun as a gift ??? He is 15. There are so many environmental, contextual, i don't even know the word, but so many things in this case that touch on many different topics. for me, it just shows me how we are a product of our environment. And also that there is never just one singular thing for anything. That nothing is black and white. every situation has multiple layers, facets, that all play a role for why things , people, etc, are the way the are.

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Why did you elbow me? 18

Achilles Castle part 83

Lemonade and lies PART 26

Kate: pov after hitting the drive through we head back to the loft. We make it inside without getting too wet. Castle made himself a sandwich for dinner. I grab some paper plates to put our food on. Muncy and Jet both got nuggets and fries with soda, Liv got a burger and fries with water. I got grilled chicken and grilled vegetables with water. The four of us are sitting at the dining room table talking while we eat, Muncy suggests that we play 20 questions.

Question 1

Muncy: pov What is the hardest thing you had to overcome besides the death of a loved one or friend, because that is already hard. Why did I pick a question that I can't answer yet?

Liv: pov 100 percent Lewis nothing beats that.

Kate: pov being shot and all the trauma surrounding that and recovering from heart surgery.

Question 2

Jet: pov wow i don't think i can top that, what are your favorite pizza toppings mine is pepperoni.

Liv: pov extra cheese or pepperoni. Those are both Noah's favorite topping, Bri likes to put weird stuff on his pizza.

Kate: pov the local pizza place makes me a special pizza, I usually get it plain.

Muncy: pov pineapple is my favorite pizza topping. Fin told me it's gross to like pineapple on pizza.

Jet: pov ew who could eat pineapple on pizza that is so nasty.

Liv: pov sorry Muncy I agree with Fin. It's also weird to put pineapple on pizza. But if you like it that is all that matters.

Muncy: pov Kate do you like pineapple on pizza?

Kate: pov i’m actually allergic to pineapple, the last time I ate It I had a horrible rash. Thankfully It wasn't too bad and I didn't have to go to the hospital. Benadryl and an oatmeal bath took care of it. My Doctors aren't sure if I'm severely allergic or mildly. But with my medical history it is better to play it safe than sorry. I have to stay away from pineapple from now on.

Jet: pov did they give you an epi-pen in case you have another reaction to pineapple. I had a friend in high school who had to carry one around. It worked quickly at stopping her reaction from getting worse, it saved her life a few times.

Kate: pov I can't use an epi-pen it contains epinephrine,

Muncy: pov why are you allergic or something.

Liv: pov Kate says while pointing to her chest, epinephrine is known to cause cardiac issues like arrhythmia in some people

Jet: pov Oh it makes sense since you have a heart condition.

Kate: pov Yeah and with my previous cardiac arrests i’m more susceptible to severe arrhythmia.

Question 3

Muncy: pov bath or shower. I like showers because they are quick. But baths are also nice every now and then.

Liv: pov I love baths but rarely get to take them because I'm so busy all of the time, so I usually just take a shower. No time for baths

Jet: pov I actually like showering because it's quick and the water doesn't get cold so quick and you are not sitting in water that you made dirty.

Kate: pov I like baths but take more showers. I will be happy if I never have to see a shower chair again. But that's not going to happen. Or plastic wrap that stuff is a hassle but very needed after heart surgery, especially when you can't get your stitches wet. It Just reminds me of the struggles I faced or as my therapist would say overcame. I used that thing so much during my recovery.

Jet: pov shower chair, is that, like a chair you put in the shower?

Kate: pov yeah there was a time when i couldn't stand so I needed it, once I started Physical therapy and Roger helped me walk again I needed it less and less. I was sent home from the hospital with a wheelchair, and a lovely heart monitor which I hated. That thing was so loud when it beeped.

Muncy: pov wow you had to learn how to walk again, that must have been hard .

Kate: pov sort of, I wasn't mobile for a while so I needed some assistance walking in the beginning.

Question 4

Liv : pov something you're scared of i’m not really scared of anything after Lewis i can handle anything maybe letting myself down.

Muncy: pov i’m scared of big bugs.

Jet: pov everyone is scared of bugs. I'm scared of dying, that's my biggest fear.

Kate: pov death actually isn't that bad, it's coming back to life that is. I think I'm scared about what my future will look like. Will I be able to have kids, would I need more surgeries in the future. By the way I'm not scared of bugs but Castle is, he screams like a girl.

Question 5

Muncy: pov what is your worst on the job injury, I think we all know what Kate's is. I injured my leg once.

Liv: pov I have a few let's see I was stabbed off duty, poisoned by mushrooms, inhaled a toxic chemical, sliced in the neck, injured my leg, assaulted more than once, shot and finally tortured by Lewis.

Jet: pov wow that's a lot is there something bad that hasn't happened to you,I also have broken some bones.

Kate: pov mine would be getting shot, and having emergency heart surgery. That whole first week after being shot I was unconscious in the CICU. A machine was breathing for me because of my collapsed lung, I had a chest tube draining fluid out of my chest. I was on so many medications keeping me stable. When I woke up I remember being in so much pain, after they took out the breathing tube I was so much more comfortable. The chest tube stayed in for a while. I was constantly having tachycardia episodes which concerned the Dr's but they finally found the right balance of medications to stop them. I had a catheter in for a while since I couldn't get up to use the bathroom. I wasn't allowed up or to walk for a while because I was on a heart rate restriction so I had to use a wheelchair for a while. Couldn't go out in public for a while because I had a weakened immune system.

Muncy: pov I beat you got around quickly in your wheelchair. To be continued. ….

[saphhicwitchbitch]

In an alternate universe this happened and i am so jealous of that timeline. Imagine:

The final encyclopaedia crashed down the stairs.

"What are you going to do now. You are surrounded. Your humans can no longer fight. Your dear, dear Crowley hasn't come back for his pet. You are alone. You are out of options. You are helpless angel". Shax smirked as the final word slithered out of her mouth. Her tone condescending and triumphant as she had seemingly won.

A smirk also glided onto Aziraphales face, "Actually, you are wrong"

Shax had not expected such confidence from her enemy. Sure, angels were known for their high and mighty cockiness but surely, surely they could recognize defeat?

What shax had not realized, firstly, is that Aziraphale had not once utilised any of his angelic powers or training. He had once been the protector of the eastern gate, and that job was not given to any lightweights, it was the same reason why he was supposed to lead a batallion if Armageddon hadn't been thwarted by him and Crowley. Secondly, and this relates to the failure of the end of times, Aziraphale doesn't do well taking instructions and doing what he is told. It's how he has fumbled his way through the millenia he has been on the surface. Sure, he followed heavenly orders when he wanted to, but as soon as they wanted him to do something he didn't necessarily agree with, all bets were off the table. He didn't ask, he just did and it was heavens poor monitoring of this principality that allowed his nature in the way he does things to be a bit more frivolous. Thirdly, and this is one of the most important bits, you don't get through centuries in London without picking up a few bits here and there, going a bit native as the heavenly order might say.

"What-What do you mean 'actually you are wrong'? You are helpless to my legion! You have no help! Crowley and heaven have left you behind! You are nothing in comparison to me!"

"Again, you are wrong" gently spoke Aziraphale, a polite smile now occupying his face as he gently reached to grab a copy of 'The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde (and other stories)'. Gently he glided his fingers over the leather cover, he first got this book a few years after it's release in 1886. It has caught his eye in around 1893 when publishers decided to compile this story and the works of others in one book. And while he would have like to have individual copies of each story, he couldn't resist the beautiful binding of the book at that time. Of course, this didn't matter too much in the long run as by 1927 he had come into possession of hand binded copies of each story. Which is why he felt no particular remorse when....editing this version.

"What are you doing, now is not the time to be caressing a dusty book Mr Fell," whispered Nina in a hushed but agitated voice. The demons were starting to slowly move in again after being at ease for the few seconds in which Shax had been talking and Nina would quite like to make her way out of this alive thank you very much.

"Listen to the human,"Shax spoke." Stop delaying and plead for forgiveness at the ruthless claws of my demons!"

" Oh you are still quite incorrect i'm afraid. You see, it will be your army that will need to be asking her grace for forgiveness soon enough."

With a rapid movement Aziraphale had flipped open the book, pulled out a small hand gun and lifted it to eye level, finger resting in the trigger.

Shax laughed, "A gun! You couldn't possibly dream of harming us with that human contraption!"

"Incorrect once again I'm afraid. You see your mortal bodies are susceptible to human wounds, a bullet in the right place would discorporate you. However, as precaution this gun has been consecrated and each bullet blessed using holy water. Forget inconveniently discorporated, you will be permanently gone. I didn't want to use this, violence has never really been my fortitude but i have warned you many times and asked you politely to leave a plethora more. Now I'm fed up and just want to keep nina and maggie safe. Get out of my book shop!"

His index finger squeezes the trigger and a bullet fly's straight though a demons head. Immediately discorporating them and leaving their body to slowly break down on the floor at Shax's feet.

Im sorry i know this is out of character but come on, bad ass aziraphale? Yes please.

sorry but the whole "aziraphale keeps a gun inside a hollowed out book" is THE BIGGEST missed opportunity ever to do a LITERAL Chekhov's Gun I'm so mad about it can you imagine if in episode 6 when they're fighting the demons in the bookshop and they run out of encyclopedias to throw and they're completely out of options instead of exploding his halo aziraphale just pulls a pistol out of a book and starts fucking shooting them

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 23: A Bombardment in Generosity

SUMMER 15-19 

Achilles knew word spread fast through the Valley, but even so, he hadn’t expected to receive this much attention this fast. Small town hospitality… And of course, it couldn’t have been under more embarrassing circumstances, he thought, huddled like a sad little waif against the mound of pillows he’d constructed to soften his headboard. Nevertheless, despite both his protests and his shame, the townsfolk didn’t blink twice in their bombardment of generosity. 

His first visitor had been the most surprising—M. Rasmodius himself had sauntered through not the front door, but the fireplace, with no warning. Of course, an early morning visit from the wizard was better than sending Achilles sprawling down that black tunnel, especially in his current condition… 

“I had heard you were weak and vulnerable,” Rasmodius rumbled from the foot of the bed. 

“‘Weak’ and ‘vulnerable’ aren’t precisely the words I’d use—”

“—I had felt a disturbance in the air yesterday afternoon, and rushed over as soon as I could. I apologize. I should have been here sooner, and I would have, had I not been in the middle of a force battle on the Astral Plane.” 

“…right…” 

The Wizard began to pace, one ring-bedecked finger tapping his purple goatee-d chin. “It seems other, more, shall we say, malicious spirits are becoming aware of your presence in the Valley and possibly seeing you as a threat. Tell me, what triggered this? It is unusual for someone of your inconsequential caliber—”

“—right—” 

“—to have attracted their attention without your own visit to the Astral Plane. Tell me, boy, how have they found you?” 

“Found me? I don’t know what you mean—”

Rasmodius pivoted on his heels and threw his hands theatrically in the air with an impatient tut. “The disturbance in the air—the doctor informed me that you had visions yesterday.” 

“No, I was just hallucinating. I had a fever, this has happened all my life—” 

“Bah!” Heavy bootsteps stalked over to the side of Achilles’ bed and a finger was shoved into his face. “Those were not mere hallucinations caused by your sad, sickly state. No, in your fragile condition, your mind was more susceptible. It must have drifted through to the Astral Plane while you were dreaming—as can happen for those with the gift—and attracted attention of the most abhorrent kind. No, you bore witness to spirits! The question is… why. As I said, it is most unusual for your mind to wander on its own to the Astral Plane without having been guided there previously, and even more unusual to have attracted so much malicious attention from those that have never smelled your scent before. You had told me your dealings with the arcane were minimal. Were you a liar?” 

Now that was just too many words for Achilles’ clouded, sickly mind to comprehend. But if he knew one thing—he wasn’t a liar. 

“Now how dare you—hell if I should know what—wait.” 

M. Rasmodius perked up with an aggressive lift of his head. 

“There was a day…” Achilles grimaced. “I… had stopped by your tower, actually, was hoping to talk to you about something, and you weren’t there…” 

He told the Wizard about that strange, smoke-filled summer day when time had passed at startling speed. Rasmodius reacted little, listening intently, waiting only until Achilles had finished the story before clucking like a chastising mother hen. 

“You should not have disturbed me without an invitation—I was doing important work in the Astral Plane myself the day, and due to my prodigious power, your puny mind must’ve been swept up alongside mine. The spirits must have become aware of your presence then, and now that they’ve gotten a taste for you, they’ll be able to track your scent much easier. You’ll have to be on your guard, now. You must never visit the Astral Plane again.”

“Can’t be too hard, I don’t know how I did it this last time.” 

“Dreams, Achilles, your dreams! Your abilities gift you an above average aptitude for traveling between the Planes and communicating with spirits—it is why you are capable of communicating with the junimos. But now that you have been in the Astral Plane twice, it will become easier and easier for you to slip through at night without proper training. If you do so again, you will have to fight back.” 

“Fight back? How the hell am I to do that?” 

“It is a battle of the mind… To be frank, I’m rather impressed you were able to withstand yesterday’s assault so well. It requires quite a bit of focus.” 

“Well… what can I say, I’m good at focusing…” 

The Wizard clucked again and then walked him through a few, very basic meditative exercises that were also supposedly to help him keep his mind grounded in the Physical Plane at night. 

“Now, I suppose those fellows may have had a hand in your triumph over those malicious spirits, as well.” He turned and nodded at the latest trio of junimos resting in the corner. “Remarkable, their attachment towards you… 

“You must listen to me. These malicious spirits—they are dangerous. They can corrupt your mind and your thoughts and your desires if you let them in. You must be vigilant. I myself have been more concerned than usual lately… they have seem extra agitated these past few weeks, and I haven’t yet found the answer why—” 

But as Rasmodius spoke, he seemed to come to a sudden realization. A shadow crossed his face as he cut his own words off and straightened himself up. “We made a deal…” he hissed under his breath, moustache twitching as his gaze rested on an empty patch of air to Achilles’ right. 

After a beat punctuated by low, angry mutters and a deeply furrowed brow, he turned back again to Achilles with a new glare in his eyes. “You. You keep your nose out of the Astral Plane and spirit affairs, hear me? No matter who comes knocking, you stay out. The consequences are grave if you don’t.” And he promptly disappeared in a puff of lavender smoke. 

*****

Leah had been his first lifesaver, dropping by shortly after the Wizard with a tea from Pierre’s, plus a bevy of essential oils, candles, and homemade bath bombs. 

Alex had waltzed in after lunch without either knocking (as, Achilles would quickly realize, most of the townsfolk were apt to do when a door was unlocked) or announcing himself, but Achilles thought he recognized his footsteps and the jangle of Dusty’s collar. 

Lo and behold, a minute or so later, it was indeed Alex who peeked his head around the corner of Achilles’ bedroom before fully stepping remorsefully into frame. Even Dusty’s tail was in between his legs. 

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve taken you to Harvey’s straight away—” 

“No, no.” Achilles rushed to lift himself up to a more dignified position against his headboard and took a sip from the tea. “Let’s just agree to blame Harvey for taking so damn long to answer the door, shall we? Seriously, what was the man doing…” 

“Grandpa got pneumonia last year and we got him one of these.” Alex gave the humidifier he had dragged in a smack and set it by the window before heading for the bathroom sink with a cup. “Figured you could get some use out of it this week.” 

“You should keep an eye on yourself, could’ve passed it on to you.” 

“Nah—Grandma and I both got vaccinated after that happened, so hey, I’m on top of the world. Let me know if there’s anything we can do to help. Harvey says you gotta rest up!”

 Did doctor patient confidentiality not exist in the Valley?

Alex returned from the bathroom, humidifier now adequately humidified, and plugged the machine in. “Glad you’ll be forced to take your ‘Summer of Rest and Relaxation slash Recreation” seriously now—I had originally just said ‘relaxation,’ by the way. I have to ask though… ’Be hot, do crime? Nice post-it notes.’” 

Achilles made a mental note to get Robin to add a guest bathroom. 

*****

Emily and Gus could be counted upon to drop off two hearty meals per day, leaving Abigail to take the mantle every morning of delivering breakfast, his usual tea, and, apparently as a bonus, the latest town gossip. 

“Folks are saying you talked Shane off a cliff,” she said, perched at the end of his bed, a little too closely to Achilles’ cough attack radius, with absolutely no concern for herself. “Whatever you told him, it must be working. He hasn’t purchased any beer from us the past two days, and, like, even going one day without a purchase is a big deal for him. Just Joja cola and sparkling water. Good for you!” 

“Good for Shane, really, it’s not easy…”

He blew his nose, a gross, honking noise, into an already slimy tissue. What a contrast they were—James had been right at Alex’s party, Achilles couldn’t help but notice. Abigail was looking good—strong, healthy, toned. Except— 

“Everything okay? What happened there?” Achilles gestured vaguely in the direction of her cheek, where a thin but long cut had begun to scab. 

She waved his concerns aside, and in fact made a point to crawl even closer to Achilles, her knees parallel to his own on top the covers, to better show him additional scrapes, cuts, and purple bruises scattered across her arms and legs.

“Nah, I’m all good. You want to see a really gnarly thing…” She rolled her shirt up slightly to reveal what seemed to be a four inch long burn. “You know… just been exploring the woods and thangs, there’s some pretty crazy stuff out there! 

“You should join me again some time—once you’re all rested up, of course, because right now, no offense, you look terrible, I’m surprised you can even, like, walk to the bathroom. I mean, you are walking to the bathroom, right, like you’re not wearing an adult diaper—” 

“I can walk to the bathroom, Abigail.” 

“Speaking of which, you need any help with those bags of mulch sitting by the entrance? Happy to carry them over to the flower beds if you need…” 

*****

Even Lewis had stopped by, waltzing in through the door that Achilles figured he should probably get around to locking now. He took it upon himself to move the various half-finished (the drugs had made it difficult for Achilles to focus; a blessing in disguise, for for the first time in his life, he had seemed content to do… nothing) crossword books on Achilles’ nightstand aside to make space for an edible arrangement that was 90% honeydew. 

Oh dear lord… 

The mayor took a moment to look around the bedroom—his face was impassive, but Lewis’ eyes lingered a bit too long on the very bare walls. Zero photographs, no paintings, no potted plants. In fact, the only piece of decor outside of the full length mirror was a vase of flowers that Maru and Sebastian had dropped off the other day and a plush bok choy Achilles had been gifted years ago that he occasionally used as a neck rest.

 After scrutinizing the place, Lewis, like Abigail, took a seat on Achilles’ bed. Gross. 

“How are things, Achilles? It is, of course, my duty and honor to check in on Stardew Valley’s finest members of the community!”

Lewis leaned over to pat Achilles’ hand. Even grosser. He had to fight the urge to wipe it. 

“I’m glad to see you’re doing better—I thought I would let you know the first order of books you placed for the museum library has been delivered. Gunther and I are incredibly grateful for your generosity. I was curious, perhaps, if you were interested in potentially sponsoring a renovation for Pelican Park as well?” 

*****

Elliott, loyal friend that he was (and unemployed friend that he was), made sure to stop by every day to help clean and declutter. Get well soon cards and take out boxes were scattered about the bedroom, and as much as Achilles loved Gus’ fish tacos, the containers did typically start to smell after half a day. 

He also made sure to bring Achilles some reading material. After Rasmodius’ visit, Achilles had been more eager than ever to learn about the history of spirits in Stardew, but had failed to find much online. Unfortunately, Elliott was at an equal loss. 

“Nothing in the museum here, nothing in the libraries in Moonmist or Zuzu, either! Not even a footnote! It is most mysterious… but I have found you some general materials on the arcane, if you were interested…” 

He might as well—he hadn’t much better to do while lying in bed, though the aforementioned materials turned out to be nothing he hadn’t already learned in school. Then again, there was nothing wrong with a little review… 

“…first is the Physical, the plane with which we humans are most familiar and call home; then comes the Spirit Plane, in which spirits of all classifications reside after the Spirit Wars; and finally, there is the Astral Plane, also known as the Border Plane. Arguably the most vital of the three, the Astral Plane houses the Elemental Walls, which serve as both bridges and barriers between the planes. It is these Walls, constructed in the aftermath of the Spirit Wars and the destruction of the Portals, that prevent everyone but the most powerful individuals, man and spirit, from traveling freely amongst the three planes…” 

Portals? That wasn’t something they had ever been taught in school. He’d have to add it to the list…

*****

Achilles was enjoying the eucalyptus scented steam of Leah’s labor, when a pitch perfect, hummed rendition of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 in D Minor announced today’s Elliott Visit. 

“In the bath,” he shouted thickly through the phlegm still in his throat. Nasty, though he’d take it over Lewis sitting on his bed any day. He glanced at the post-it notes still stuck to his mirror—unlike Alex, Elliott surely wouldn’t roast him for them… probably wouldn’t even notice… 

Elliott appeared in the doorway, a bag of donuts and two teas in his hands. 

“Good morning, my friend,” he said, taking a hurried seat on the toilet without invitation. “Young Abigail asked me to drop these off in her stead. She sends her condolences, but she is currently occupied with matters of the most importance! I hope I’m not disturbing you.” 

“Well…” Achilles glanced at the bubbles he had been herding to form a rather impressive bubble beard, and scooted himself up slightly to get a better look at Elliott’s perpetually eager face. “No, of course not. Just taking a bath.” 

With a thick “thanks very much,” he took one of the cups gingerly from Elliott, wiping his wet fingers on the towel hanging nearby. 

Elliott repositioned his long legs, crossing them as he scooted around the toilet seat. 

Achilles waited for Elliott to speak—the man always wore his emotions melodramatically on his sleeve and was clearly here for more than the usual chat. The only trouble was, the anguish that was so clearly brewing behind his hazel eyes could be explained by quite a number of factors of varying urgency. Even the little things were big things when it came to Elliott. 

Achilles took a little sip. He wasn’t usually a chai man, but the lavender chai wasn’t bad, not bad at all… 

“Achilles, I must confess… I also came here for advice.” 

No surprises there. “Oh, for sure, what’s up?” 

“But if you are feeling too ill…” 

“No, no, not at all. I’ve been feeling a lot better.” 

Elliott nodded, savoring Achilles’ consent. 

“Friend to friend, writer to writer… I need your advice on overcoming writer’s block.” 

Achilles frowned, just slightly. Damn. Back to writing advice, huh? Although, to be fair, Achilles wasn’t quite sure what other advice Elliott would be so desperate to seek from him. But writer’s block? Achilles had a unique relationship with that little pest of a condition. 

“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure if I’m the right person to ask—”  

“I must confess, I have been at my wit’s end—my inspiration has dwindled. I sat at my desk for hours and hours yesterday, but scarcely wrote 1000 words. I tried to blame the tourists at first, but even after I replanted myself in Cindersap—still, nothing! What comes next? You’ve written a wealth of novels, my friend, you must have had some experience! You must understand how much I respect you, both as an author and as a friend!” 

“‘Wealth of novels’ is pretty generous, they were third grade chapter books—“ 

“Anything, anything you can share. I have simply been in such an insurmountable rut for the past week—“

“Wait, hold the phone,” Achilles said, pulling himself up again (he had been slowly descending back into the blanket of bubbles). “This has been going on… for a week? You’ve had writer’s block, for a week?” 

“Yes, a true tragedy —“ 

“Elliott… actually, let’s talk on the porch, I can’t sufficiently yell at you from down here.”  

*****

Fifteen minutes later, he met Elliott on the porch steps, dressed in some fleecy blue pajama pants with “Joja” written on the side (a holiday gift from the corporation during his BRLO days that, no matter how much he wanted to burn, were just too cozy) and a robe. 

He took a donut from the bag and took a seat. 

“Elliot,” he began after a swallow. “A week is nothing. Stop stressing over the book, go for a walk—go for a swim, you live right there. Take a break, you’ll be back in business in no time.” 

“Is that what you did? Take a break?” 

A hiss of air escaped from Achilles’ lips. “Ah, well you see…” 

“A ha!” 

“No, it’s not what you think—ok, first, I just want to reiterate that being stuck for a week should barely constitute as writer’s block. 

“And second, if I’m honest, I… never really had writer’s block, at least, not when I was writing Henry Spector. I know that’s incredibly annoying to hear, but I don’t know. Like sure, I’d have a week or so where I wouldn’t write, but it was never anything sustained. But, to be fair, I mean, they were also just silly little middle school books, not like, literature literature, not what you’re writing…” 

He looked over at Elliott, whose long face was still utterly despondent as he sorrowfully munched a donut of his own. 

Achilles sighed. “Ok, I’ll give you two pieces of advice.” 

Immediately, the forlorn writer looked up from his donut, a renewed earnestness glimmering in his eyes. “Yes! I will take anything, my friend.” 

“Some of my old writer friends did genuinely benefit from taking breaks. Sometimes it was a day, sometimes it was a month—they’d just go out and do something completely unrelated to writing. The key was giving themselves enough time to really ‘step out,’ per se, of their writer brain, and just let themselves forget about their work. I don’t know, perhaps that’s worth exploring for you. Why don’t you… go on a camping trip with Leah or something? I’m not saying it’s going to solve the problem, but it could be nice to even just get out for a week. Take the time to learn more about yourself beyond your writing—let yourself be more than a writer. Take some time to let go, to detach and live in the real world.”  

To Achilles, the advice seemed rather banal, but Elliott seemed to be taking a methodical minute to soak it in, nodding slowly as he rolled the suggestion around in his head. 

“And did you find this tactic of use? Even during those week or so’s you wouldn’t write? Stepping away? Distracting yourself?” 

Achilles snorted, licking some donut powder off his fingers. “I mean, no. I never tried that little tactic out, I never had writer’s block long enough to warrant it, really. But it does bring me to my second piece of advice, I suppose—to be clear, I truly think everybody has different solutions. Some people just need that distraction. Other people just need to force themselves to keep putting words on the page, hoping they’ll uncover something worthy, and knowing they’ll just edit out all the unnecessary shit later. I guess I fell more into the second bucket.” 

“But inspiration—“ 

“Inspiration is great. I get that—when you find some idea, a character, whatever, that you just can’t stop thinking about, that you have to put on the page—great. Some people are just capable of reaching inside themselves and drawing from whatever pain, or unearth whatever story, that’s begging to be let out. But writing can have its honeymoon period too, when you’re far enough in that the glamor is gone and you realize that it’s a job like any other. How I see it, you can’t depend on inspiration just coming to you. Sometimes you have to find it yourself. Or, shall I say, make it yourself. Put your nose to the grind or whatever the phrase is, explore a million avenues, even if they’re all terrible, to eventually mine and commit to what’s actually worthy in the heap of trash you threw on to the page.” 

Once again, Elliott took a silent minute to thoroughly process Achilles’ rather basic advice. His follow-up question this time, however, Achilles found unpleasantly unexpected. 

“If that’s what worked for you, if I may ask, why did you quit writing? I suppose I always assumed you simply had a exceedingly long bout of writer’s block.” 

“Ah…” 

Donut long eaten, Achilles was forced to gnaw on the lid of his cup of tea as he debated how exactly to answer the question. Would he even answer it? 

“It wasn’t writer’s block that made me stop writing. I still had some ideas for… things. Ideas were never really the problem. 

“I know I said I didn’t really get writer’s block, and that wasn’t a lie. But Apparition was still a pain in my ass to write. I was passionate about the story, but the actual writing of it all—the literal pen to paper—it just didn’t come as organically. I don’t know if that’s because I just wasn’t… a strong enough writer for adult literature or what, or if a part of me just legitimately didn’t want to write anymore. But, you know, I was too far into it to let myself quit and just made myself see it through. I mean it ended up being a load of shit, so, moral of the story is, take all my advice with a grain of salt…  

“My problems with being a writer were more about the why, I guess, instead of the what. Especially after Apparition, I just… it became clear I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of writing anymore. I didn’t really see a future there, and eventually just… stopped wanting to do it.” 

After a long beat, Elliott looked over to Achilles.“Maybe I will… take a break… take your suggestion. Would you be interested in camping with me?” 

“Me? I don’t know if Harvey would be OK with that, he told me to take it easy for the next few weeks… why not ask Leah?” Achilles eyed him closely for a reaction. 

Elliott frowned—such a small sad, but innocent little frown, a tiny tilt of his lips, his brow just the slightest bit furrowed. 

“I fear a camping trip would be too suggestive. I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” 

“If I get the OK from Harvey, we could all go together. So it’ll be clear it’s just as friends. How does that sound?” 

A sunrise dawned on Elliott’s face as he clasped Achilles’ hands. “How blessed I am to have such a generous friend! That sounds like a splendid idea—I’ll talk to Leah this week! We’ll stay close—we could drive to Sunspray, they have some wonderful camping grounds, and some exceedingly gentle hikes. How is early next week, my friend?” 

“Sounds great to me. Always easy when none of us have real 9-5 jobs.” Achille couldn’t help but drily add the second sentence. He still wasn’t sure how Elliott even afforded food; luau leftovers only carried you so far.  

“Splendid, splendid. Thank you, my dear friend, for your offer and your pearls of wisdom. Please, if there’s every anything I can assist you with, you know I am but a mere 40 minute walk away.” 

“You want to help me by taking this edible arrangement off my hands?” 

“Oh—I couldn’t.” 

“Don’t be polite, I’m allergic to honeydew.” 

“Oh, well in that case…” 

*****

Shane appeared the very last day of Achilles’ five day prescribed bed rest. Marnie and Jas had stopped by earlier in the week to drop off some sugar cookies (which Achilles had promptly given to Elliott—he hadn’t much of a sweet tooth to begin with, and Evelyn’s vanilla and snickerdoodle were far superior anyway) and Abigail, of course, brought the occasional tidbit of information, but by and large, Shane himself had stayed away. Until Friday evening.

Unlike most everyone else, this visit began with a knock at the door. Achilles, who, contrary to Abigail’s observations, was capable of walking about, if slowly, opened it to see Shane, eyes glued to the ground per usual, a plastic bag in his hands. 

“Hey. Come on in.” Achilles waved him inside, but Shane shook his head. 

“Just wanted to drop these off.” He handed the bag over to Achilles. A cursory glance revealed two frozen pizzas, a 6 pack of lemon flavored sparkling water, and a very random assortment of paperbacks likely nicked from the shelf at Joja. 

“Oh, sure. Thanks.” Achilles dug out Pleasures of the Pirate King which featured a scantily clad woman being held at cutlass-point by an equally scantily clad pirate. “They really have these on the shelf of that grocery store? Like, in plain view and everything? Fuck, I should tell BRLO, we were advertising the wrong shit…” 

Shane didn’t laugh.

“Also wanted to let you know I’ve been… doing better.” 

Achilles dropped the second erotic paperback back into the bag and looked up, forgetting Shane wasn’t making eye contact anyway. “Oh. That’s… I’m glad to hear that.” 

“The therapist is good. I’ve cut back on the beers some… Joja still sucks but can’t fix everything right away, right?” Shane attempted a smile. 

“Hey, you’re taking steps, and that’s important. I’m glad you’re getting help.” Yoba, had these words felt this hollow to say for his friends back in the day? 

“Yeah…” 

Shane shifted his weight, his Joja cap pulled taught between his fingers—they were already looking less red, the joints less swollen. 

“Well… that was it. Have a good night.” 

*****

After dinner, Achilles had planned to spend the evening reading A Scandal in Baccharia (Sherlock Holmes with a twist? Nope. The title had betrayed him, he should have judged the contents by the lusty white-robed and laurel-crowned figures on the cover instead), but found Shane’s visit, in combination with Elliott’s hunt for writing advice, had instead spurred an overdue trip down memory lane.  Especially now that the brain-fogging antivirals were more or less out of his system, Achilles found himself able to sustain a thought uninterrupted for the first time since Alex’s birthday party. 

The thought unfortunately happened to be in regards to the steamy synopsis and “Ferngill Times Bestseller!” badge scrawled on the back of Unmasking the Merman—although rather than turning him on, it had only made him vaguely uncomfortable. And then it made him anxious. This was the sort of book he was sharing accolades with, huh? 

He had been honest with Elliott, but it hadn’t been the whole truth. He could’ve shared more, but the full details were too embarrassing. Immature, really, his overblown reaction to the whole affair that would ultimately end in the conclusion of his writing career. 

On paper, it had started with—who else? That damn Eddie Bloomsbury—but the writing had been on the wall the moment a part of Achilles decided he’d write for his pride rather than for his heart. A small distinction, but a significant one. He had bound his definition of success to the judgement of others. And, of course, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, what Achilles had always wanted more than anything else in this world was well-deserved success and notoriety, and so it shouldn’t have been surprising that the association of his name with any hint of “failure” (as he had been apt to describe it) had, like Shane’s, resulted in his own (coincidentally also very wet) crisis of sorts, as well as a two year venture into therapy. He’d driven himself mad and had subsequently never known a day’s peace since. 

If he were in the same position today, he likely would’ve reacted differently. He was older. Wiser. More mature. But still too stubborn. And he had since moved on. 

But to what? Strangely enough, his week battling pneumonia had calmed his anxiety. It had given his brain a simple task, but a task all the same: rest. And now that that was pretty much over, was he not right back where he was seven years ago? Just one season ago? No plans, no goals. 

This was supposed to be his Summer of rest and relaxation. Well, he had had plenty of rest… surely it was time he got himself together. Was this all not just another form of writer’s block? Was life block a thing? He simply had to keep exploring, keep trying, keep plowing forward… 

[reasoningdaily]

Is the Loneliness Epidemic Making Us Susceptible to Wellness Scams?

I never set out to be alone. However, when I lived in the Middle East, my life was one of social isolation. The job I’d taken to help boost my husband’s career left me with little time for recreation or sleep or friends. My colleagues and I were friendly enough, but we weren’t close. Meanwhile, the eight-hour time difference made communicating with loved ones back home nearly impossible. When my spouse ended our marriage, I was desperately lonely. I’d been sober for a decade, and I feared sliding back into substance abuse.

During that time, I began experiencing chronic joint pain. After my doctor added a neck brace to the knee and wrist braces he’d already prescribed, I succumbed to his suggestion that I start attending a weekly yoga class. It was my only option. In 2005, the gyms in Doha only held “ladies’ hours” while this lady was working. I was leery. My parents owned a gym. In our family, stretching was something you did between real sports. The thing was, unlike the doctor’s braces, going to yoga actually helped resolve my body’s aches and pains.

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I knew my heart was broken, but I didn’t attribute my physical pain to my emotional state. Studies have shown they are related. When we’re lonely, our pain receptors are on high alert. Because of my addiction history, I knew that my path to well-being would mean attending to both my physical and emotional needs. Over the next few years, that journey took me down a rabbit hole I never would’ve imagined.

Encouraged by the success I’d had with yoga and lacking health insurance, I landed at a number of meditation ashrams and healing communities, including the infamous Osho sex cult in India. Though I did find healing in some spaces, I also came across shady practices in the name of wellness. While I’m not surprised by the exponential growth of the wellness economy, it’s cause for concern when it comes to unlicensed practitioners without anything to back up their claims of expertise.

The wellness boom has led to many scams.Getty Images

“When you’re feeling at a low point or vulnerable in your life, these influencers present in such a way that it seems like they understand how you feel, but then they might provide advice that’s not accurate,” says cognitive behavioral therapist Jennifer Guttman. “There are no regulations at all on who can claim to be an expert.”

In the depths of my despair, I didn’t investigate the unsavory wellness groups I joined. I just wanted to feel better. It was only long after my stay at Osho that I discovered the murderous crimes carried out in the name of the eponymous guru. And while my particular story is not common, the misery that drove me to seek out alternative healing is more prevalent than ever now.

Before the pandemic, U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy was already calling loneliness an “invisible epidemic.” Guttman notes that there has been a huge uptick in recent years in cases of depression, including a 60 percent leap in suicide rates for adolescents and 27 percent for adults.

My search for wellness took me around the world.Getty Images

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The timing could not be worse. Last year, the Association of American Medical Colleges released data projecting a massive shortfall in physicians for the year 2034. “We’ve been seeing this coming for 20 years,” says Koshin Paley Ellison, a psychotherapist and co-founder of the New York Zen Center for Contemplative Care. “The health care system has become an industrial complex. It’s mostly for profit.”

When I was going through my divorce 12 years ago, I was told there was a six-week wait to see a psychiatrist in my health care plan. The same day, however, I was able to join a meditation group. There, the teacher offered the ultimate drug: He listened. Though that particular group has since dissolved over allegations of sexual misconduct, I was lucky. Between my limited resources and natural skepticism, I didn’t dive deeper. I also didn’t have 24-7 access to fresh social media content.

“The unregulated wellness industry is a fertilized petri dish for charismatic leaders to bloom and organize resources, not based upon how competent they are or who’s assessing their work, but based upon how well they look on Instagram,” says Matthew Remski, a cult researcher and co-host of the podcast Conspirituality, which examines charismatic wellness leaders and their followers.

“Social isolation is a symptom of depression, and depressed people turn to their phones,” Guttman says. “When you turn to your phone, you’re more vulnerable to social media influencers because that’s where you get your social outlet.”

The Gospel of Wellness

The Gospel of Wellness

In The Gospel of Wellness, author Rina Raphael writes that she’s not surprised by the confluence of wellness and “what were once considered ‘woo-woo’ convictions.” When I recently spoke to her on the phone, she was quick to point out that the causes are “multifactorial,” and loneliness isn’t the only reason people seek healing or community.

“I’ve never really trusted doctors,” says Matthew Pinkowski, a 45-year-old compliance manager from Florida who credits alternative therapies with improving his mental health. “My hypnotherapist really changed my life. We did breathing, singing bowls, crystals. All that stuff helped me get over anxiety. Then, the pandemic hit, and I went back for a tune-up. The therapist had gone full QAnon, telling me about underground cities and how Katy Perry eats babies.” Pinkowski was not convinced and moved on.

Unfortunately, the same wasn’t true for my 85-year-old father. Before opening his gym in 1978, he was a science-minded metallurgical engineer who lectured me about greenhouse gases. In September 2021, dad had a seizure in a downtown Pittsburgh parking garage. As doctors began testing for possible causes, my sister and I discovered he’d been treating his prostate problems at home with piles of supplements and regular injections administered by a vitamin salesman he knew from the gym.

Be cautious of unregulated wellness solutions.Getty Images

By all objective measures, my father was lonely. We were well into the second year of the pandemic, and he’d been living alone since my mother passed away seven years earlier. Whether the injections helped or hurt him would be impossible to say now. Once we could take charge of his treatment, my dad was too weak for the surgery he needed.

When dad died, among the various supplement concoctions littering his kitchen table was a one-page script he’d apparently been using to call government representatives and demand an end to research that “grafted skin from aborted fetuses on rodent babies.” A simple search online showed that the language was a gross misrepresentation of the research.

Today, I have nothing but compassion for my father and all of us who simply want to feel at ease in our bodies. My quest for wellness spanned many years and continents before I recognized I’d turned my search into a self-sabotaging hunt for what was wrong with me. As Paley Ellison said in our conversation, “We can use anything as medicine or poison.” The trick I discovered was to start looking at what was right.

[gatheringbones]

[“I told my mother I thought I might be trans in a lengthy and overly apologetic email, which she didn’t quite know how to respond to. From her perspective, my transition had popped up out of nowhere, with no prior warning signs. She was convinced I had been brainwashed into transitioning, and agreed to meet my counsellor for a joint meeting with me, primarily to meet the person she felt had brainwashed her child into transitioning.

My mother describes her first meeting with me presenting as Laura as very difficult for her, due in no small part to her inability to see me as anything but her very traditionally masculine son in a dress. For a while she knew but did not talk to my father, which she found very difficult. She told me years later that she went through a period of mourning, feeling like her child had died, and that she was left with a stranger she did not know. It put a lot of strain on her, and on our relationship as parent and child.

Why the assumption I was brainwashed? Because of autism infantilisation.

Before we talk more about my journey coming out as transgender, we have to rewind a little bit to something else that went on at around the same point in my life: my diagnosis of Asperger’s. By the time my mother attended that appointment and met me as Laura for the first time, I had already been diagnosed with Asperger’s, which was part of the reason she was so worried about me. She was not aware of any statistical link between autism and gender dysphoria, and in her eyes I was a vulnerable young person with an autism spectrum condition who was being manipulated into transition because I was easily swayed, or lacking in ability to assess my feelings on the matter properly for myself. This is depressingly common: an adult’s assumption that having an autism spectrum condition means you’re incapable of proper self-understanding, or that you’re susceptible to being manipulated into believing things about yourself that you did not previously. You’re not trusted as being of sound mind to make choices about your own life, out of fear you’ve been manipulated.

Speaking to my mother years later, now she has somewhat settled down and got used to me going by Laura and female pronouns, she told me that her biggest fear, and the primary reason she agreed to attend that first joint session together, was that, as a youth with Asperger’s, my therapist was influencing me into believing that I was trans. She feared it was some kind of brainwashing that my gullible mind could not resist the allure of, rather than believing my own account of what I was experiencing.

I also faced this same issue with doctors when trying to access medical support through the NHS. I would have general practitioners, mental health doctors and gender specialists alike raise an eyebrow when I acknowledged my Asperger’s diagnosis, and then proceed to take plenty of extra time asking me lengthy questions about how my autism symptoms manifested, to ensure I was of sound enough mind to make permanent choices about my body. Apart from the obvious infantilisation of people with conditions like Asperger’s on display there, I always just explained it as being like the decision to get a tattoo. I am an adult, over the age of 18, who has been deemed sober and mentally sound, and as such I have every right to permanently inject colours into my skin that may never go away. Why should I not be trusted to take slow-acting meds that are somewhat easier to reverse? Still, the fact I had to fight to be believed that I was mentally sound enough to make that choice says a lot about misunderstandings about autism spectrum conditions, but highlights that to assert that transition is unique in the permanent nature of its change to the body is completely inaccurate.”]

laura kate dale, from uncomfortable labels: my life as a gay autistic trans woman