#if i go to bed too early-- TAKING AMBIEN! if i take ambien too early and go to bed too early. meaning 2am or earlier. I WILL WAKE UP AFTER

[raven]

I was complaining about how i had to clean my old place bc im so tired and my dad was like "just go to bed now and wake up early and do it in the morning!" like wtf? u can do that? what the fuck? whats wrong with you? you can just go to sleep? hello?

[neuroborreliosis]

i can never fall asleep right when i go to bed. usually, it takes me between two and four hours. i know i have insomnia, but it's hard to reconcile that knowledge with the fact that i am so exhausted all the time. generally, these days, once i'm asleep, i can sleep through the night. i wake up partially through the night, i stir, i toss and turn, i adjust my position. mostly i move around so much because no matter what side i sleep on, or what position i sleep in, my back always always hurts. staying in the same position too long makes my back uncomfortable. but i don't usually wake up completely to shift throughout the night.

it wasn't always this way. insomnia is a beast with many heads and i've come face to face with all of them. for years, i would be able to fall asleep pretty quickly, but the slightest sound - a creak in the floorboards from another room as someone shuffled to the bathroom, for example - would wake me, and i'd find myself struggling to fall back asleep for hours. sometimes, i wouldn't fall back asleep at all. there have been times where i've been able to fall asleep and even stay asleep but never got deep sleep, never felt like i went into rem, or whatever. i'm not an expert. there have been periods where i can't fall asleep for hours and even when i do, i can't stay asleep. there have been times where i'm able to fall asleep but wake at least once a night to complete numbness in one or both forearms, hands, fingers. to the point that my own limbs would feel like they belonged to someone else and i'd have to carry them to the sink to rush steaming hot water over them until sensation returned.

i dunno. these days i just can't fall asleep until between 2 and 5 am, no matter how early i take my sleepy things, no matter how early i get in bed.

melatonin gummies. melatonin xr. passionflower. skullcap chamomile valerian. cbd. l-tryptophan l-theanine. homeopathic sleep tablets.

i always have some cocktail of sleep aids on deck, and i generally take several of them each evening. but STILL I CANNOT FALL ASLEEP UNTIL THE WEE HOURS.

i used to get prescribed ativan, then klonopin, both teeny-tiny doses. i used to get prescribed low-dose lunesta. i used to swipe my mother's ambien.

i hate relying on pharmaceutical medications. i am already chemically dependent on suboxone. it's the lifeline for which i reach every morning. it's the only reason i can do things in this late stage of lyme disease. so i'm wary of adding another.

but pharmaceuticals are really the only thing that has ever worked like clockwork for sleep, for me. i've been taking medical-grade melatonin xr every night for multiple weeks, since my doctor prescribed it to me, and i've been adding calming herbs and sleepytime tea and homeopathic tablets to the mix and STILL I CANNOT FALL ASLEEP.

i am SO TIRED ALL THE TIME.

during the day i try to be as active as i can, i try to pace myself, i try to tire myself out. i do yoga most evenings. i sometimes shower before bed so that my body temperature drops a little because jules told me that in order to get sleepy, your body needs to cool off a llittle bit.

i try to lull myself to sleep with all kinds of youtube videos, i rewatch netflix's "inside the mind of a cat" night after night because i wonder if maybe, when i've memorized the script, it'll ease me into slumber. but i guess it's not that easy.

i will say, there is one youtube channel whose videos can help me fall asleep pretty quickly MOST, but not ALL, of the time. her name is jody whiteley and she makes the only sleep hypnosis videos that aren't creepy or weird or sus to me. her voice is soothing and her hypnosis seems to work. i discovered her videos when i was 16 and i've used them ever since on nights when i'm afraid i won't be able to sleep. racing thoughts slowed by her suggestive cooing. but there are nights where i'm so wired that even jody whiteley can't save me from my wakeful state.

i dunno. i sort of hate when you tell doc you have insomnia and they go, "have you tried melatonin?" like YES I HAVE. WHAT DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN DOING ALL THIS TIME IF NOT TRYING EVERY GODDAMN SLEEP AID THAT'S AVAILABLE OVER THE COUNTER?

i need to ask my provider for something. something''s gotta give. because of my lyme, my severe fatigue, no matter what time i fall asleep i need a BARE MINIMUM of 8 hours of sleep, and i won't feel good the next day unless i get closer to 10 or 12. so, the fact that i can't fall asleep until the wee hours means that i never wake up early enough to really take advantage of the day. i absolutely HATE waking up as late as i do. and the only solution for me is to be able to fall asleep earlier. i need a prescription. i'm sick and tired of being sick and tired, like they say in 12 step. something's got to give.

[gandrewheadcannons]

I wanted to share some writing I had done earlier this summer with you all! If you like it let me know if I should continue? It’s meant to be a story focusing around the beginning of their time in Washington and into the podcast. I’ve left it at a really weird stop but that’s all I had so far.

Title: Undetermined

Pairing: Garrett Watts/Andrew Siwicki

Tags: Mention of prescription medicine, mention of Jeffree/Shane/Ryland, unfinished

Evening is dimly creeping through the half-opened windowpane casting a glow across the built-in table connected to the cramped inner wall of Andrew's microscopic kitchenette. His studio apartment in LA sat cramped in-between Hollywood and Calabasas, a mediocre waypoint for his work for the last few years. He clicks the viewfinder and focuses on the bright oranges and yellows that dance teasingly across the glittering tabletop; catching flicks of sliver and reflecting them back to the lens. A mug of dark roast with just an edge of too much cream is left forgotten in the corner of the frame. It feels cinematic and lonely all at once. The cafe style booth he sits in causes his back to ache, the rest of the kitchen a sterile and unforgiving white, but he misses capturing the day to day beauty the world had to offer. He imagines the reel being played back with a layered sound of twinkling windchimes, quiet laughter and a piano reverb with cuts of the morning sunrise on a hike and steam off the top of a ceramic mug. A familiar face with flecks of blonde in the beard, strong jawed and a roguish smile weaving in and out of the frame, turning back to laugh at something the cameraman said.

“-with a mandate like this.” Garrett is brushing his teeth through Facetime. Andrew catches the corner of his bamboo toothbrush flashing in and out of the lens. He must have laid his Iphone flat on the countertop because when Andrew really looks he can see the bottom of the mirror and a bunch of bright light.

“I know. It sucks. Couldn’t get honey the other day, man. Fucking honey. It’s not like the bees are going anywhere.” He laughs but it doesn’t feel funny. The minimal supply he had was dwindling thin. He was beginning to ration his meals and he wasn’t sure how much toilet paper was left under the bathroom sink. It was all very apocalyptic without any of the zombies or scientists swooping in with immediate remedies.

“Ah dude.” Garrett spits and there’s a tapping sound like he’s hitting his toothbrush on the edge of the porcelain sink before he fully pops into frame. He looks relaxed, sandy hair flopped to one side and beard properly scruffy though they’d only been locked down about a week and a half now. “I know. I can’t handle it anymore. I miss people.” Andrew hums at that. He doesn’t really. He misses the occasional gathering, sure, but he hadn’t quite placed his anxiety surrounding the idea of seeing others since they’d released the Jeffree series. "What was it that bothered you most about taking part in this?" His therapist had asked him. "I missed the fun," he’d answered. "What was the fun?" She’d pressed deeper. "Garrett," Andrew had been quick to reply. "And like. Everyone else too." He'd added when she hadn't said anything. "I miss it not feeling work." She had let him talk about that instead.

"Some people." He tacks on to Garrett who hums easily. He doesn’t think he misses many of the people he’d spent most of 2019 with, his life a mixed cocktail of Ambien, Adderall and Lexapro without any feelings of relaxation manifesting. His psychiatrist had discouraged upping his doses anymore and by early January she began urging him to begin seeking new opportunities to “work on his environment”. He hadn’t quite figured out the avenue to take to do just that.

"Well, some people." Garrett agrees and he's already back out on his couch. "I don't know how many more times I can watch Winter Soldier before I freak out." Garrett sighs. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Same as you and every other person." He turns his camera off. He needs the break from the screen.

"I miss you." Garrett is easy like that. He isn't ashamed to tell people how he feels in every moment. It was something to be admired and yet Andrew just felt envy at it. When Garrett had begun to slip away from him, melting like honeydew sweet and sour into a depth of a place where Andrew couldn't quite find him, he'd only managed to grab him back out by Garrett's honesty. Doesn't know if they'd be having this conversation if Garrett hadn't used that honesty like an anchor and letting Andrew catch him last minute with it.

"I can come over." Andrew offers. He hates being confined in these walls anyways. It was hollow and dark. The email from Shane still sat open on his Mac across the room on his bed. Thinking of extending the break, can't really decide. Want to get quarantined together? I have a few video ideas we could maybe mess around with or just film some day to day footage until creativity strikes us it reads. His skin itches for the company but the image of their guest room makes him uneasy. Doesn't know if he could withstand being there with very little to fill his hands with, editing complete and no real ideas on the table for the time being.

"I can come to you." Garrett offers like he was inconveniencing Andrew who had offered anyways.

"If you touch your car right now I am going to freak out Garrett Watts." Andrew admonishes. "The second they open up the garages and mechanics again I'm making you take that thing there, burn it and we get a new one." He's opening a duffle now and throwing in his travel toiletries and a few pairs of underwear.

"Oh come on Andrew it's not so bad." Garrett laughs as if Andrew wasn't still reeling from the aftermath phone call of Garrett nearly wrecking on the 101 barreling top speeds until he reached a secluded patch of grass to slow his Pirus down onto. By the time Andrew heard the story Garrett was okay; Michael had gone to pick him up and Garrett was sending pictures of little Star Wars figurines that Michael kept mounted on his dashboard. His heart didn’t calm until he had managed to get his hands on Garrett in person though, sneaking out for an afternoon to grab some coffee with Garrett before heading back to Shane’s to finish editing. His shins still feel heavy with the weight of Garrett’s calf as he’d pressed their knees together until the table while they’d talked – the weight reminding him of how alive and okay Garrett really was.

"Oh yeah a car that dies out randomly is really great." Andrew throws in a box of protein bars and a Gatorade into his bag. He hesitates before grabbing a stitched bear made from gray yarn, green buttons for eyes luring him in. "I'll be over soon." He doesn't know how well the conversation will hold up over Facetime as he's moving.

"Okay cool Andrew." Garrett's eyes are soft. "See you soon. My dad is actually calling."

"Tell him I said hi. See you soon." He so easily could tack on endearment, babe at the tip of his tongue burning hot. Garrett's ending the call before Andrew even has the chance.

**

The half opened can of frosting is across from, the only lights on are the ones twinkling from some intricate set up Garrett had on a shelf. Garrett’s on the third loop of the home screen on Prime, humming thoughtfully whenever he pauses on a summary to read but then continuing to scroll before picking one. He’s slumped down low, long legs kicked out on the coffee table while Andrew is curled up in a ball against his side. Once, Caleb had pointed out that if people didn’t know them they’d get the impression that they were dating. Garrett and Andrew had awkwardly laughed at that comment, tinged with humiliation at how their relationship was being interpreted. They tried to be better then, not letting themselves fall so in sync when other people were around.

Andrew loved it like this though, when it was just him and Garrett, so he could press his cheek into Garrett’s bicep and not have to question why it felt so right. In his left hand his phone illuminated with another message from Shane. Opening it he read a message about how much they all missed him and wanted him there during this time. Apparently Ryland was looking for someone to help film a video he had planned. He quickly shut the screen off and pulled back from Garrett some, his stomach in a sudden tangle of knots.

“Good?” Garrett asked him looking down. His crew neck was for Spokane and looked a little like the Taco Bell logo from when they were younger. He’d paired it with a pair of sweat shorts for the night as they were both supposed to be going to bed soon. Andrew picked at his own Adidas track pants, imagining a loose thread to busy his hands.

“You ever just. Feel like you gotta get out?” He tilts his head to the side and watches Garrett pause what he’s doing with his Playstation controller and set it carefully on his coffee table.

“In what way?” He asks thoughtfully, turning so his chest was open to Andrew. Their knees bumped and Andrew felt like a little boy when he wished he could crawl and hide in the empty space of Garrett’s lap.

“Like okay. Say you just really loved what you used to do. You basically achieved your dream job. You have all these amazing people, you like your boss, things are going really great and you’re making a lot of money.”

“You buy yourself a really good vacuum.” Garrett plays along teasingly causing them both to laugh.

“You get yourself those stackable containers for your meal prepped lunches.” Andrew plays back. “But then…” He runs his tongue inside his teeth then outside methodically. He searches his brain to try to figure out what to say to Garrett to

“Then?” He drums his fingers on Andrew’s knees to get him back to the present.

[speechlessxx]

extremely wicked.

[dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Summary: After abandoning your ex-fiancé during his murder trial, he seeks you out for revenge. 

Warnings: drug use (prescribed tho), language, i could’ve made ransom a little darker but i chicked out, shitty writing, mild violence, mistakes probably 

Word Count: ~1.6k, a bit on the shorter side. 

i originally planned for smut but i pussied out (as usual)

Buy me a Ko-Fi - donations are unnecessary but GREATLY appreciated. 

You were fear stricken as the harsh winds blew against the tree, causing the branches to scrape against your front window. The screeching of wood against glass accompanied by the shadows left you paralyzed with wide eyes.

The advice the FBI agent told you still hung in the air – advice you should’ve heeded to, but you were always stubborn. “It’s unsafe for you, miss,” he told you and now you cursed yourself for being so dismissive of his concern.

You pried your eyes away from the window after a few long moments, staring at the brightly lit television screen that burned your tired eyes. The mindless sitcom proved to be a short-lived distraction as the show abrupted ended to deliver news. The broadcast did nothing to ease your anxiety, but every time you’d change the channel, you were met with the same story:

Breaking News: Serial Killer, Hugh Ransom Drysdale, at Large.

His mugshot was front and center as the anchorman warned the public to not approach him. “It’s unknown if Drysdale is armed, but he’s most certainly dangerous”.

You felt the color drain from your face as you continued to stare at the photograph.

The same pair of blue eyes stared tauntingly back at you. They were colder than you remembered. The smirk on his face was as charming as the day you met. Charming yet cynical.

A loud snap! pulled you from your thoughts, causing you to let out a small yelp. Your eyes immediately searched your surroundings as your breathing picked up slightly. The branch that hung over your window had fallen. The shadow and its silhouette were gone, leaving you a clear view of the full moon in the grey night sky.

You pressed your hand against your chest as you tried to steady your breath. Inhale, exhale… you thought to yourself. Inhale… exhale. You felt your heartbeat against your sternum, thumping against the bone as if it wanted to escape like the man who once stole your heart.

Your fear wasn’t misplaced. You had every right to be afraid.

It was your fault he was imprisoned after all.

The images of the women’s bodies flashed through your mind ever so often. During the trial, photographs of the cadavers were shown to the jury and audience. The audible gasps that were heard throughout the entire courtroom was almost as haunting as the very images that burned through your skull. You dabbed away at the tears as Ransom and his team of lawyers – the “most elite” group that Linda could buy just before disowning her son – congregated in the small office, coming up with a strategy. Ransom looked over at you before dismissing his team to “comfort” you.

It was then you gave back the engagement ring, telling him you couldn’t do this anymore. Despite Ransom’s insistence on his innocence, the evidence was stacking up against him. He looked guiltier and guiltier each day – even you doubted him. No matter how much you loved him, you wanted no part of this trial.

It was then he grabbed you. With a hand to your throat, squeezing the life out of you, he shoved you against the wall.

It was then he seethed his threat that haunted your dreams a year later.  

“If you leave me now, I swear to you… I will fucking kill you.”

He screamed it. Your ears were ringing as you begged him to let you go. When you managed to open the door and free yourself, you fell to the ground, coughing and wheezing. You were too caught up in your fear that you hadn’t realized Ransom’s outburst attracted a crowd.

It was that threat that put the final nail to his coffin.

You shook the memories out of your head. “It’s done, (Y/N).” You reminded yourself. “It happened. It’s over.” You took a deep breath as you turned off the television – it was doing you more harm than good anyway.

You walked over to your kitchen and frowned when the light refused to turn on. The wind whirled outside as you furiously flipped the switch but to no avail. The bulb was dead.

You groaned to yourself, thinking that this night could not go any worse. You poured yourself a glass of water before deciding to call it a night, reasoning you had an early shift.

The stairs creaked beneath your feet as you ascended the flight. As you prepared for bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The entire atmosphere of your house had shifted, placing you into an undesired horror film and leaving a strange feeling in your bones. You shuffled through your bedside drawer, in search for the orange Rx bottle containing the Ambien you were prescribed to help you sleep.

You flushed the pill down with big gulps of water, hoping that the sleeping aid would kick in faster. You snuggled into your comforter as a shiver ran down your spine. Your head whirled around the dark room and letting out a shrill shriek.

You swore a figure walked past your bedroom door and disappear down the hall. You blinked several times as if to adjust your eyes to the darkness – although with the power outage, they were already well adjusted.

“Nothing’s there.” You told yourself as you shoved the covers off. You poked your head out the door, examining the hallway. “You’re just paranoid… and tired.”  

Goosebumps rose on your skin as a familiar chuckle rang throughout the empty house. Menacing and wicked like a predator laughing at its prey.

“Oh, (Y/N)…” his voice echoed. Your breath hitched in your throat as you backed into your bedroom and locked the door; though, you knew it wouldn’t keep him out for long.

You fumbled with your cellphone, dialing 9-1-1. Within seconds the operator answered but you didn’t give him the chance to complete his script.

“I’m in trouble.” You whimpered. Your voice quivered and your hands – your entire body – was shaking. “Hugh Ransom Drysdale… he’s in my house. Please…”

“Ma’am,” the operator let out a long sigh. “Did you see him?”

“No, you don’t understand.” You rubbed at your eyes with frustration. “I’m his ex-fiancé. It was my testimony that put him in jail. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L).”

“Miss (Y/L), what’s your address?” He asked. The faint sound of typing could be heard on the other line. You recited it only for him to say, “you’re breaking up… Can you – “his voice began to break, muffled and robotic.

“No, no,” you begged as the line suddenly cut. Your mind slowly became fuzzier and fuzzier as the drug slowly began to take effect. You tried to redial, but the error message rang out throughout the phone’s speakers.

“(Y/N)…” he knocked three times.

“Ransom, please,” you cried. “Please, just go.” Tears rushed down your face as you tried to fight the drowsiness. “I won’t tell anyone you were here – “

The doorknob jiggled. “I just want to talk, my little dove.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“Like you didn’t believe me when I said I was innocent?” He tutted at you. “Open the door, little dove. Let’s talk.”

“No.” You shook your head although he couldn’t see you.

Ransom let out a sigh before a thud slammed against the wooden door. You whimpered before scampering beneath your bed. The slamming continued until you heard the door break. Your eyelids became heavier as heavy footsteps stomped around your room. You pressed your hand against to your mouth, muffling your breath, praying to whatever god or deity that was listening that he’d leave.

The footsteps suddenly stopped as Ransom exhaled. “My dumb, dumb little baby,” he tutted. Two large hands grabbed your ankles and you screamed as you clawed the floor in an attempt to anchor yourself.

Ransom straddled your waist, holding your thrashing legs in place as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them at the side of your head. He leaned over you – faces centimeters apart.

“Do you remember the last thing I told you?” Ransom asked you, ocean blue eyes bearing into yours. You shook your head at him, crying as meaningless strings of pleads escaped your lips. Ransom cooed, nudging your nose with his. “My dumb baby…”

“Ransom, please,” you cried. “Just go.”

“No, little dove,” he smirked. “I’m not letting you go.” He watched as your eyes slowly became a bit glazed over. “What did you take?” Ransom’s tone suddenly became concerned as he pulled away from you. His voice became distanced as Ransom’s face became blurrier and blurrier until you succumbed to the peaceful darkness – hoping that this was only a nightmare and that when you’d wake, this cold blooded murderer wouldn’t be looming over you.

Ransom slapped your cheek lightly at first, hoping that you’d regain consciousness. He called your name again before slapping you harder. He shook your shoulders but was met with no response.

“Well,” he huffed as he pulled your limp body from the floor, throwing you over his shoulder like a ragdoll. “Makes it easier for me, then.”

The stairs creaked louder beneath your combined weights. He hummed to himself as he opened the found your keys sitting at the dining table and waltzing over to the garage. He placed you at the passenger seat, wincing slightly when he accidentally knocked your head against the roof of the car.

Ransom made his way to the driver’s seat as the garage door slid open. He smirked to himself as he drove. He glanced over you, fast asleep with your head pressed against the window, jolting when the roads became uneven.

“Oh, what wicked things I have planned for you, my little dove.”

[whentherewerebicycles]

oh my god yesterday was a VERY emotional day for me!! it was my favorite player’s 1000th game and there were so many emotional Testimonials from all his friends and rivals so I spent most of the day experiencing strong FEELINGS about sports and leadership and hard work. listennnnn being a fan of this person is very Inspiring to me and makes me want to work hard to achieve my dreams ok!!!!

anyway I think I might try to ride that emotional wave a little further today and sit down to do some future planning/writing. yesterday I was very successful at not lying in bed all day and moderately successful at being active (I walked 50 min instead of my target 60). I also did okay on night four (?) without ambien. it took me a really long time to fall asleep but I think that had a lot to do with how emotionally hyped up I was about hockey lol.

here are some things I’d like to do today, in no particular order:

up at 7:30 & take dogs out

coffee, lounge, read in bed until 10ish

reinstall Freedom app so I can block tumblr/twitter after 11pm

make breakfast

35 min walk with Ruthie

spend time doing reflective writing about the future (topics: values check-in, daily/weekly practices, followthrough, longer-term projects, possible timelines). this could also be a project for tomorrow but I’d like to at least generate some notes

add 1k to fic draft—maybe more if I’m in the mood to write

if I’m not in the mood to write fic today I could work on those examples of reverse outlining one of my anons asked for

skate for 45 min in the early afternoon & listen to YCDT episode

spend time troubleshooting my broken Thunderbolt display. I think I need to try resetting the port, updating the firmware, and resetting the SMC. if it’s really broken I need to order a new monitor (sigh) and webcam (bigger sigh), which I’ve been putting off for weeks

wash some clothes in the sink

do dishes by hand sigh

the university extended our closure to Mon-Tues but said we could hold optional meetings if students wanted to. I reached out to my kids but so far no one’s asked for a meeting, so I think I will probably have the next two days off too—and then Wed/Thurs are already research and admin days for me (no meetings) so I may very well end up with another week of very few work obligations. if that’s the case I think I am going to try to use the week to jumpstart my own research again.

[realyouearthing01]

The benefits and advantages of Earthing / Grounding for animals/pets – Grounding to the Earth

As you will discover in this post, pets also benefit from Earthing / Grounding. So here is the testimony of different people who tell their experience with their animals and Earthing / Grounding, the connection to the earth.

When indoors, pets sense something familiar and beneficial when they come in contact with an Earthing mat or other grounding product.  They are definitely drawn to Earthing.  Although they can’t articulate what they feel, their actions and responses speak louder than words, as these accounts clearly indicate:.  Here is a sampling of feedback:

Extending Quality and Quantity of Life

The second edition of the Earthing book (2014) included a report from Sandra Wong, a musician in Boulder, Colorado, about how Earthing was helping her aged Grand Pyrenees dog, “Raffie.”

In 2013, she had first told us that “Raffie,” then 11, was suffering from severe, painful arthritis and multiple structural issues. She had exhausted conventional options, including medication that just made him sick to his stomach. She was reluctantly considering putting him down. Then a friend suggested Earthing and she obtained an Earthing throw for the dog. The results, she said, were striking. “Raffie” began resting and sleeping grounded. His energy amazingly returned, as did his mobility and zest for life.

In April 2014, the dog passed. “He made it to a miraculous 12 years of age, almost unheard of for his breed,” Sandra told us. “Grounding gave him an entire extra year of life and with quality that I didn’t think was possible.”

In early 2015, she told us she has helped other animals with Earthing. “The week before ‘Raffie’ passed, ‘Mosey,’ went into a steep downward spiral and was diagnosed with the lumbosacral disease, among other things. She’s another one of my Pyrenees. Her back legs were going out much of the time. She had full urinary and fecal incontinence. The vets didn’t have much to offer but after several months of using homeopathic remedies and encouraging her to spend more time on the Earthing throw, she has made a rather miraculous turnaround. She has been able to walk to and from the backyard without assistance. Her urinary incontinence and 99 percent of all accidents have stopped in the last three months. ‘Mosey’ is now 13 years old and a few months, and although fragile, she’s going stronger than I could have imagined possible with the only changes being nerve tonic (homeopathic), Traumeel (homeopathic), and her Earthing throw.”

Sandra continued: “A friend of mine has a rescue black Lab/chow mix with severe hip dysplasia. The old dog took a turn for the worse with the coming of colder weather. The pain meds he was prescribed left him lethargic, yelping, and disoriented. My friend put him on similar homeopathic as ‘Mosey’ and installed an Earthing throw, as I had done, in the dog’s bed. Now, two months later, it’s as if the dog was two years younger. He’s clear-eyed, connected, happy, and exhibited significantly less pain.

“Earthing also helped my mother’s dog, my grandmother’s dog, and my other Pyrenees, ‘Serafina.’”

In 2017, we heard from Sandra again. Both “Mosey” (14 ½) and “Serafina” (13 ½) had died the year before, 18 days apart. “However, both of them had a good quality of life up until the very end, despite their advanced age, with the help of the Earthing throw,” she said. “’ Serafina’ had a stroke shortly after ‘Mosey’ passed. I think she missed her sister.

“All this is to say, in my experience, Earthing is incredibly helpful to animals, including older ones with sensitive systems who reactive negatively to strong medications.”

Less Shedding

From Yavor Kresic in Ottawa: “My Siamese ‘Alexander’ loves going on the mat. I’ve noticed that he hardly sheds now. He’s an older cat and rarely goes out.”

More Comfort, Less Itching

From Ambien Hay of Vero Beach, Florida: “‘Jackson,’ my Jack Russell, loved his Earthing mat. It relieved his arthritis and pain due to Lyme disease during the last years of his life. He died at 16. After sleeping on it all night, he clearly felt more comfortable in the morning, as he pranced outside and had his breakfast.

“‘Sailor,’ my 12-year-old Westie, heads for his Earthing mat any chance he gets! He has been Earthing for more than eight years and is healthy and happy. The mat helped relieve his skin allergies and itchiness. He hogs my Earthing mat under the computer desk, his favorite place to snooze.

“All creatures large and small love to be connected to Mother Earth!”

In 2012, Karen Kolczak from Phoenix told us she obtained a mat for her cat after experiencing the benefits of Earthing herself. She said: “My old cat doesn’t get outside much anymore, but now she is going up and down the stairs much more frequently and curls up to me purring on the bed as if to say ‘thanks mom.’”

In early 2015, Karen reported that her cat had passed away and that she brought a new cat into the house who “loves the mat as well.”

Togetherness

New Hampshire researcher James Oschman sent this picture (below) from a doctor friend who commented: “Here are my daughter’s three cats. Ordinarily, they stake out separate rooms for their morning naps, but this is what they’ve been doing since I came to visit and installed an Earthing sheet on the guest bed.”

More Togetherness

From Linda Olk in Winston-Salem: “I have five dogs and a cat. And most of them, along with me, have been Earthing since 2013. The dogs get their indoor ‘dosing’ at night like I do, and sleep on the Earthing sheet I put over the sofa. Sometimes all of them pile on at one time. From time to time, some of them jump into my bed and onto the Earthing sheet. I have to shoo them off.

“The animals have all been in good health. After I added the Earthing sheet, they absolutely became calmer. Not that they had been rowdy or unruly, but they carried a certain agitation. That changed a lot.

“When the cat developed an infection from a bite, I noticed he spent more time than usual stretched full out on the Earthing mat I placed in the living room under my desk. The cat usually stays outside, right on the ground, under a tree, except when it’s very cold. Then I set the mat out and typically he gravitates to it.

“After I bought an Earthing yoga mat for myself, the dogs, and even the cat, want to lay on it. I sometimes have to shove them off when it comes time to do my exercise.”

It Works in Finland, too

Sisko Pynnonen from Kangasniemi says her dog usually sleeps on the floor during the winter and outside on the ground when the weather is warmer. “After I put an Earthing sheet on my bed, ‘Tahvo’ started to climb up into the bed in order to be able to sleep on the sheet. One night he even brought a bone into the bed. He seems to sigh with relief when he sleeps on the sheet…and sleeps there all night!”

Satu Laitinen, from Siilinjarvi, says her cats love the Earthing plush pad and compete to use it.

Maine Cats Know When They Need Mother Earth

From JJ, in Maine: “My two indoor cats don’t seem unusually drawn to Earthing sheets or their grounded pet beds when they’re healthy. However, when my cat Cleo had an inflamed paw pad, we noticed her resting on my daughter’s Earthing sheet in an unusual manner, with her arm stretched straight out in front of her, the sore paw pad placed gingerly on the grounded sheet.

“My other cat, ‘Pixie’ is an obsessive washer. Since she’s been sleeping grounded (two years), her fur has grown back on her sides and some on her tummy. Grounding seems to relax her and reduce the hyperexcitability of her condition.”

Don’t Get Crushed!

From Deborah Ebbers, Suttons Bay, Michigan: “I have a story concerning my earthing journey, started one and a half months ago. I bought the earthing mat for my bed and the results have been very positive; deep sleep, arthritic pain reduction, calm energy… and now my dog (who sleeps with me) has decided that since I’m earthed that it is perfectly natural for her to sleep on top of me……. there’s one little problem…she’s a Great Dane. Beatrix is 116 pounds!”

They Hog the Bed!

From Tina Morin, a German Shepherd breeder in North Bay, Ontario: “I have 7 dogs and they all try to get a piece of the mat on the floor lol I have a sheet on my bed and sometimes I catch them up on there too. They all sleep on it or on my bed lol as I have a grounding sheet there. They sure gravitate to grounding.”

Golden Retriever in Healing High Gear

Karen Poizin of Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, reported that “Lance,” her Golden Retriever, had surgery to remove a large lipoma in his armpit in December of 2013. He slept on a pet mat during his recovery and, according to the veterinarian, “he healed quickly.”

“Juniper the Rat” − Life after a Stroke

Diane Higgins, of Toronto, is an ardent animal rescuer. “From fish to horses,” she says, and including rats. In 2015, she communicated to us about “Juniper,” her very senior and nearly three-year-old hooded female pet rat. The rodent had had a stroke, a fairly common affliction among elderly rats, and often fatal.

“I’ve become all too familiar with the symptoms but this time I had a new weapon and so I decided to use one of the Earthing bands,” Diane recounted. “Rats, no matter how well we feed and take care of them, don’t live very long, but if this could improve the quality of her life, I was all for it. Often there’s nothing you can do to help them in these situations, the time between a stroke and their unfortunate demise is swift.

“’ Juniper’ is one tough little gal. She had difficulty getting around so I decided to try the band on her and within twenty minutes she was able to raise her head. Within an hour she was able to use her legs again. After a few hours, she exhibited more mobility and was able to lift her head.

“I put her in a safe, warm, and comfortable location with the band attached (she had wiggled out of it once, but I got her back into it) and she settled in and let the band do its thing.

“I got the shock of my life the next morning. ‘Juniper’ had climbed onto the roof of her mouse house ALL BY HERSELF!! She climbed up and ate breakfast! She gave me a bit of trouble getting her into the band this morning but I got her in. She has MUCH better mobility and is much improved.

“She does the rat equivalent of purring (bruxing) when she is in the band. This can also occur when a rat is upset, but she seems to be a happy little rat when she does this.

“On the third day, she was having less problem holding her food, all the red stuff around her eyes is gone. That’s porphyrin, a secretion indicative of stress, sickness, or poor diet. Her eyes look clear and her coat feels silky.”

“On day five, she continued doing well. She has made daily progress. The old girl is now able to get all the way up to the third tier of the cage. She seems to recognize her limitations with ‘down.’ She actually signals me when she wants to come down and I either pick her up and place her on the bottom of the cage or I gently ‘escort’ her with my hand and assist her.

“She has never eaten commercial pet food. She gets filtered water, organic fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds, as well as avocadoes, bananas, mangoes, grapes, corn on the cob, carrot, spinach leaves, kale, and chaff from my juicing as well.

“Everything has worked in harmony. TLC without Earthing or Earthing without TLC would not have produced these results. When I first started this therapy with her, I was thinking she might not last another day. But she is doing so well and has been a great surprise.”

A week later Diane reported: “She is doing amazing!! She was able to fend off her younger companion ‘Thea,’ when I gave her one of her favorite treats, a piece of Pita bread. ‘Thea’ does NOT share. ‘Juniper’ is now able to drink out of the water bottle on the second cage level now. Her front paws are no longer tensed up and she is able to wash like she used to. She appears very calm and does that bruxing thing, which is so cute and endearing. OMG, she is so smart!”

“Juniper” lived actively for more than a month after her stroke, and then died peacefully. “I hadn’t expected her really to live another day after her stroke,” reported Diane. “She was a real trooper.”

Sweet Dreams

“I actually had to buy myself a second Earthing mat, because the minute I put my mat on the floor to put my feet on while watching TV, my Golden Retriever immediately would make a beeline for it. He then falls into a wonderfully deep sleep with lots of squirrel chasing dreams. For me, this disproves the Earthing doubters who explain Earthing benefits as a placebo effect. Both my dog and I know that earthing REALLY works!”

For more information, please visit https://realyouearthing.com/

[mercyxkilling]

from a headcanon meme i reblogged ages ago and can’t find 

@brassbounded / @egocentricjester / @hzsokovia asked: does your muse snore? sleeptalk? sleepwalk? the thing(s) your muse thinks about before falling asleep. is your muse a fitful or a quiet sleeper?

does your muse snore?

like a fuckin’ freight train, though it would depend on a few things to reach that point for mercy. if she’s exceedingly tired and run down, exhausted to the point that she’s asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow, she’s bound to snore, and snore quite loudly. if she’s been drinking in excess (and let’s be real, that’s the only way that she drinks; she can’t seem to just have one to unwind and imbibes to get fucked up) then she’ll snore super loudly, too. hopefully those who stay over and sleep with her in her bed manage to fall asleep before she does, and hopefully they’re also heavy sleepers, lest she wake them in the middle of the night.

sleeptalk?

mhmm. she certainly does. mercy might manage to utter something ridiculous about ‘cute fuzzy ducks, they get me every time,’ and then make a quacking noise... and then go back to sleep. she also could sputter something cryptic and absurd like ‘the lion and the unicorn dance for the crown’ and when she’s asked about any of that the next morning she’ll not remember a thing. mercy doesn’t normally recall most of her dreams anyway. not unless they’re nightmares, and she has those quite often.

sleepwalk?

nope! not usually anyway. maybe if she’s on sleep or anxiety meds (ambien or xanax respectively) and drinks after taking them she might wander around the house in a zombie-like state. like... she’ll cook something in the oven, play video games, do the dishes (which she would NEVER do since she pays someone else to do that kind of labor for her), order a bunch of shit online that she has no real need for and probably won’t remember buying any of it until she gets the package... but as for sleepwalking on her own, unaided by meds or anything else? not at all.

the thing(s) your muse thinks about before falling asleep.

good question. mercy has insomnia pretty bad so it’s hard to say exactly what her thoughts are before bed since she hardly ever manages to get any rest. most of the time she’s probably thinking ‘goddammit just a few hours. that’s all i need, just a few hours of sleep,’ or ‘if i fell asleep now i could get at least two or three hours of rest before i need to get up.’ her internal clock makes her an early riser (think 4:30 AM) because she goes for a two mile jog every morning, too, so it makes it doubly hard on her and even more exhausting and daunting to imagine not getting sleep. sometimes she has this irrational fear of sleeping, too. like, she knows that it’s absolutely absurd and has no basis in fact, but sometimes she’s afraid of what will come the next day, so her mind races and keeps her awake as if it were going to stop the sun from rising and keep time from marching on so she wouldn’t have to deal with her problems.

is your muse a fitful or a quiet sleeper?

because her sleep hygiene is so bad and her sleep schedule isn’t really even a schedule, mercy is very much a fitful and restless sleeper. she’s prone to moving around a lot, making noises (usually ones of pain since she hurts if she stays in one position for too long), waking and falling back asleep quite often... and she is very much a cuddler, no matter how much she denies it. when she’s awake, depending on the verse and who she’s sharing a bed with, mercy may even go out of her way to try to stick to her side of the bed to prove a point, to prove that she doesn’t need to be in such close proximity to anyone to be able to sleep. but once she does actually fall asleep she’ll unconsciously wriggle and squirm and worm her way closer and closer to her partner until she’s incredibly close to them. usually it’s to steal the warmth of their body heat since she’s often cold at night (and she’s a notorious blanket hog), but it isn’t uncommon for someone to wake up in the middle of the night or the next morning to find mercy with her arms wrapped around them, or find her trying to burrow even closer to them while she sleeps.

[animalsatwildlilac]

Power Outage with Bearded Dragon

This beardie has a job. His name is Stripy, and he is a working lizard. His life is full of adventure at Wild Lilac preschool. But he does get weekends off, vacations, and even mental health days, just like me. I think he is lonely when we are not together.

On Thursday, when WL announced an early release because of the winter storm warning, I got the whole day off because I only teach in the afternoons. But I still needed to go in, briefly -- to tend to the animals before the roads got messy.

On the way there, I stopped for supplies at my local pet store, Tropical Hut. I bought 100 crickets and a package of frozen bloodworms.

When I parked in front of the school, rain was falling and the temperature was dropping. Masked parents were picking up their unmasked kids. I left 50 of the crickets in my car with plans to take them home for Stripy, my bearded dragon, and then I went to the animal room.

I fed and tucked our critters in –

Two cubes of bloodworms for the Axolotl;

Cucumber and carrots for the just-hatched baby snails;

Fresh pinecones and toilet paper rolls for the gerbils;

Hay for the new-found guinea pigs (see previous post);

Crickets in with the animals that eat crickets: the tarantula, the geckos, and the cane toad;

And food for the crickets themselves (some apple, some dog food);

The Madagascan Hissing cockroaches still had food;

The walking sticks are all out of bramble – I’m sorry, but they will be okay for a few days without food.

I headed home.

As I brought the deli container of crickets into my house (they had been in my car for about 45 minutes) I realized something was tragically wrong -- all 50 of them were on their backs, heels to heaven. My first though was carbon monoxide.  How could they all have DIED in such a short time? Then I realized maybe they weren’t dead – they were cold! Or did they freeze to death? It just hadn’t been that long. Such drama! I set them on a table and watched them, and as they warmed, they started to move. First a leg twitched, then another, then one flipped over. I was thinking how cool is this! Definitely something to explore with the kids – the freezing and warming of crickets.

And then, as I was deep in contemplation watching the flipping crickets, it’s 3 in the afternoon and -- the power goes out! There was no accumulation of ice or snow. The storm had hardly started. PGE said the power would be back on at 5pm. But at 5, they said 6, and at 6, it was 8.

When the temperature in Stripy’s tank dropped to 65 degrees, I had lifted him out and put him on my chest, zipped up a fleece vest over him, and put a fuzzy blanket around my shoulders.

My husband ventured out into the cold night to find a restaurant with power. He arrived home with salted peppered cod and garlic broccoli and kung pao shrimp from Powell Seafood, and the news that there were now 100,000 people without power in the greater Portland area.

At 8:03 our lights came on! Stripy was glad to get into his warm tank and eat some crickets. The humans were glad to catch up on what we had missed electronically in the past five hours.

Stripy poops biweekly, and does so in a predictable way – pretty much every time I put him in the bathtub; warm water brings it on for him like coffee does for me.

His poop in interesting. Part of it is white and rubbery, part of it loose and greenish brown.

At 2 in the morning my partner woke me. The power is off again, he says. PGE says the cause is under investigation and there is no estimated time for the power to return. In my Ambien induced slumber, I mumbled, “Please … bring me Stripy…”.

Stripy settled on my chest and closed his eyes. He clung to my nightie like a bur on a wool sweater, both of us covered with the duvet. Our dogs are not happy about Stripy joining us in the bed, and they move as close to my head as they can.

My partner kept checking on Stripy, to make sure he was staying on me, not straying into the sheets. But he needn’t worried. Why would this lizard leave the best heat source in the house -- a woman going through a menopausal transition?

Flanked by dogs, a lizard, and my partner who at this point in the pandemic has not just a beard, but a full wizard’s beard, we sleep. But not well. Our thermostat now says 54 degrees. I am worried about the crickets -- they are no longer chirping. but I am not going to snuggle them.

It is windy. My neighbor's roof is covered with snow and smoke is coming out of her chimney. Branches come down from the weight of ice. A car explodes and burns when a power line falls on it. All over Portland, people are lighting candles and caressing their reptiles, trying to keep them warm.

Stripy has two tanks – one at school, and one at home. His at-school tank is what I think of as his studio apartment; it’s furnished with a doll’s bed covered with a patchwork quilt, a hammock, a tiny ceramic toilet, and a small, hard copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. At home, he has a “desert” tank where I’ve built him tunnels and hillocks out of excavator sand.

In the summer, at the end of the day, he likes to join my family on the patio. We have cheese and crackers and glasses of chardonnay, and Stripy gets his own glass platter of mealworms. Yes, I know the mealworms are fatty and are supposed to be a treat, not a regular staple, which is why I’ve been trying to transition him to crickets. I want Stripy to chase crickets like how the beardie in the YouTube video chases blueberries, but he doesn’t.

I believe he doesn’t chase his food because he doesn’t have to.

He waits until a cricket crawls up on his hillock and then -- a quick snap nom nom nom -- he chomps on them. A drop of cricket juice spatters from his mouth.

But I know he still has his instincts, because I have watched him shoot across the patio to catch and eat a bee.

At school, the kids touch Stripy with one finger, and they know not to pet his head. Heads are personal spaces, and plus, that third eye! The first time I saw his third eye, I thought a child had drawn on him with marker.

When not roaming about the animal room, or sunning himself under a UV light, Stripy is carried in a woven sea grass basket filled with silks. He has castles built for him out of Magnatiles. The children pick fresh arugula for him from the garden and hand feed it to him. They sketch pictures of him that are pinned to the wall. The kids love him. They tell him this on a daily basis. They don’t imbue him with meaning, they just recognize him as sentient being.

The kids marvel at how his spikes look so sharp but are actually soft. They touch him and talk about his textures and colors, the orange rings encircling his eyes, his soft belly, his pointy tail. We watch his torso expand as he sighs, relaxing into his body.

What are those holes in the sides of his head?

What do you think they are?

Can he hear me? Why aren’t his ears on the outside like mine?

Will he lick me?

He might.

Why did he lick me!

He is tasting you. He’s finding out who you are.

This bearded dragon, does he know how to fly?

Not yet.

Well, his mommy needs to teach him!

I ask him questions in front of the kids … Stripy, do you want some dandelion greens? Oh, you do!  Oh, Stripy, I can see you don’t want to be held right now. You want to move across the floor on your own!

I regularly give animacy to inanimate objects, too.

What is he saying now, Teacher Nikki?

What do you think he is saying?

Caring for animals helps us to build compassion. I want the kids to know that the animals are communicating with us, we just have to listen.

Sometimes, on my way home from work when I stop at Trader Joes, Stripy tells me that he doesn’t want to be left alone in the car, so I set him on my shoulder and he lies very still (but is supremely alert and watches everything) as I walk around the frozen foods and the wine aisles. Kids always notice him and want to connect. The crew usually notice him, too, and greet him with a wink. My sister, who likes animals but doesn’t have any, when I tell her about my experiences in Trader Joes with Stripy, says “Oh, Nik-Nac, you’ve become one of those people.”

And yes, I guess I have, it’s true. I have become that lady with the bearded dragon.

No, we are not supposed to have a lizard in a preschool -- because of the salmonella risk. However, I believe that risk is an inherent and natural consequence of childhood. Our preschoolers take turns on a broken seesaw that was homemade to begin with. They build with crates and cardboard boxes we scavenge from the furniture store on the corner. There is sometimes a sprinkling of nails in our sandbox. We have earthquakes here, and floods, and ice-storms.  Our children breathe harmful air from wildfires. We have lockdown drills to prepare us for potential active shooters in our schools – a little salmonella isn’t going to shut things down for us!

In my more than 30 years of teaching with animals, I have probably exposed thousands of children to salmonella. It will be okay. For those of you who are still worried, let me tell you a little story.

I hosted a special COVID sleepover for some school-age kids recently (the kids were all from the same pod) and when it was discovered that one child had forgotten to bring a tooth brush, I said, “that’s okay, just borrow someone’s toothpaste and brush with your finger.” I mimed a demonstration and all the kids made faces of disgust. “I would never brush my teeth with my finger,” I heard. “I put my fingers in my butt too much!”

We do wash our hands as often as possible.

[samshafaghi]

How CNN's John King Is Using His Magic Wall After The Election

Family Dinner Options

John's wife and kids watch as he enters their home address into Google Maps on the magic wall, then uses his fingers to zoom out. Multiple restaurants in the area are flagged with red pins.

Well, we're all familiar with the Applebee's over in Dekalb County. Dekalb County as everyone knows has three Applebee's locations, that's a net gain of two locations since 2016. But in 2018, they lost our business to the Cheesecake Factory right here in Fulton County. Their food portions were massive. If you recall, we brought a ton of it back home and ate it the next day. But we also had to wait 1 hour to be seated - not ideal, as the large turnout isn't favorable for us. It doesn't appear that another visit to Cheesecake Factory is on the cards. 

Instead, we shift our attention to Gwinnett County, where there's a new Red Robin that has surged in popularity the last few days in our household. This could be the next big one, folks. And no surprise that this comes after our disappointing outing to Chilli's last week in Cobb County. Chilli's in Cobb was a surefire success in 2008, and 2012, but failed to capture that same young generation in 2016. It's still too early to call, and we want to take our time here. I understand we're hungry. We have to let the process play out. But based on recent trends and the latest data, if you're a Red Robin fan, you've gotta be pretty happy right now...

John's family sneaks out of the room. Not realizing they're gone, he just continues to yammer away. Vacation Destinations

John gathers his family around the magic wall and opens up Google Earth.

Well look, here's the facts - in 2018, we went to Barcelona. Our last trip. Barcelona is in Catalonia. As we know the President of Catalonia at that time was Quim Torra. A bit of a wild election because Torra was elected when the Spanish courts blocked the other three candidates. We spent a majority of our time in the populated Barcelona region, like over here at the landmark Ciutat Comtal. We enjoyed a nice walk through this section over here, at the beach of La Barceloneta towards Port Olimpic. We also did branch out to rural areas and landscapes, populated by the mostly blue collar workers in the Girona and Lleida regions, which had massive turnouts in the regional elections of 2015. 

But due to a rise in busy schedules in our household, along with a seismic shift in how we want vacations to feel like, the "10 day tropical resort" option is the frontrunner. Now we all remember the debacle of Cousin Mark's destination wedding in Cabot, where two unnamed family members got drunk and threw up in the pool. But heading back to that region with just our family is not only doable, but also economical. We can try Bermuda, which is over here, or maybe Turks and Caicos over there. 

John looks away from the wall. Day has turned into night. His family, exhausted, has passed out on the couch. Buying Ikea Furniture 

With his wife waiting in the car, John pulls up the IKEA floor map on the magic wall.

OK, so if we look over here, the dining table sets are on the first floor in the right hand corner. These are your Mörbylångas, your Skogstas, and your Möckelbys. Now if we tap on the Mörbylångas, you'll see it has one five star review on the IKEA website. Pretty high rating, but can you purchase something based on one review? Well, we have to be patient. It's still too close to call, so we have to go there and inspect. Next on this floor, if we just scroll through here, there's not much - we don't need any of these Hemnes bookshelves, or the storage combination units like the Bestå, or the sturdy Kallax. We can just walk through here, but it may be difficult. Usually there's a large amount of foot traffic through this area. I'm just gonna circle it and you can see, hour by hour as the magic wall data will show you, that it rises exponentially after store opening. 

John's wife begins honking the horn multiple times. She gives up and drives off. Social Media Drama

On the magic wall, John opens a browser with multiple tabs.

Here we have the Facebook profile of Shirley open. Shirley is a trusted family friend. We know this as we've known her for 30 years. She dropped a bombshell by posting disproven claims about the election with the hashtag #stopthesteal. It has 15 reactions and over 200 comments. In the business we call that getting "ratio'd". 

So let's scroll through some of these comments here. Here's one from Mark. Zooming into his profile picture, it's clear he's wearing Oakley sunglasses and he's taken the picture in his car. His comment: "Biden sucks balls #MAGA". So when you put it all together, that's not surprising coming from Mark. He's a surefire supporter of Shirley's recent post, no question.

I should also point out a lot of these comments are GIFs. We'll just scroll through them quickly here. Here's one from the 1996 film "A Very Brady Sequel," in which Marcia Brady says to Jan Brady, "Sure, Jan." By the way, that film earned 21 million against its 15 million dollar budget. Not a great return, but it did spawn that GIF so maybe not all was lost there. And then there's about 25 comments here that are 7000 words each. We obviously can't read them all, but they mostly contain a roundup of all the misdeeds by the now former President. And I'm just now seeing another 5 comments have been added, taking our total to 205. We'll keep monitoring this situation as it unfolds.

John's wife can only shake her head. She apologizes to her dinner guests. Annual Check-Up

The Doctor is astonished as John has somehow set up his magic wall in the office. A 3D model of John's upper body appears on screen.

Now, Doc, let's look up top at the respiratory system here. Check out this evolution of my lungs over time. Here they are in 2008. They look good, right? That was a watershed year, when I first got this magic wall. And then here they are again in 2012. A bit more collapsed. And that starts to become a trend. Then in 2016, it looks even worse. You said it's because I never stop talking and then you gave me a puffer that year to help control it, which ended up working pretty well. Here's a snapshot of my lungs now, in 2020. Clear as a bell.

But here's a new issue. Let's move up to my head. Let's open up the top of my skull and look at my brain. There it is. As you can see, the cerebral cortex region is just completely inflamed. You can see the color there - it's totally red. But if you look at this image from before I got my magic wall, in 2007, that same region blue. It looks normal. In 2012, however, that blue started to fade away. Clearly my cerebral cortex was flipped red - what caused this? Well, let's try and find the answer. There's a battleground situation happening here.

The Doctor writes John a prescription for Zoloft, Ambien, and horse-grade tranquilizers. In The Bedroom

John stands beside his magic wall, wearing just boxers. His wife, on top of the covers and dressed in lingerie, looks defeated. An overhead shot of their bed is shown on screen. Now honey, before we start, I just wanted to point out two key battleground areas. First, right here in the middle of the bed. This is the spot where we get into our usual position. Back in 2012, you wanted me to be on top. But in 2016, you wanted to be on top. Will there be another swing this year in 2020? Well, based on your recent trip to the chiropractor for back pain, I think it's not a total shock if it does indeed slip. Right now it's too close to call, but we'll see how things play out through the night.

Another key battleground - over here, in your nightstand drawer, are the handcuffs. You've tried numerous times to incorporate them into our love making to spice things up. Well, we can now project that I will once again refuse to wear them. This was a safe projection as I'm not yet comfortable with this particular kink. However, there was a significant effort at the grassroots level to flip this decision, and as a result, it was a lot closer than in previous years. Wolf, over to you.

Wolf Blitzer, hiding in the closet, steps out and banters with John. John's wife falls asleep.

[aaronhart93-archive]

after party fight || aaroman

DISCORD THREAD FEATURING: Aaron & @romanbeckett​

MENTIONS: @davieslandon

WHEN: September 13, 2020 - early morning September 14, 2020

DESCRIPTION: After Aaron kisses Roman at the club during his birthday party, he gets triggered and drinks. Landon takes Aaron home. Roman follows Aaron home and Aaron tells him to leave. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: alcoholism, fighting, drunk driving 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Ro was gripping the steering wheel as he took off towards Aaron’s pent, following after Landon’s instructions. He was way too drunk to be driving right now, but the pent wasn’t far, and he didn’t want to draw attention to any of this by asking for ride. He also didn’t want to wait for an Uber. “Aaron?” He called from the door as soon as he was inside, trying not to freak out, or let his breathing get uneven with his asthma tightening up in his chest.

Aaron

Aaron wasn't drunk. Thank God Landon had stopped that from happening when he walked in on him in the bathroom. After his best friend got him home, he drank some water, and called the national addiction hotline so they could help talk him through what had happened which honestly made him feel a little better. Landon had literally just left the pent when he heard Roman walk in. He stepped out of the shower and put a sweatshirt and boxers on. He didn't know what to say to Roman. Instead of walking downstairs and greeting him, or calling for him he didn't say anything and just hid under his covers. He'd find him.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman was starting to get a little freaked out when he didn’t hear Aaron, looking through the pent until he found his boyfriend in bed. “Hey.” He rasped from the doorway, unsure if he should go in any further since Aaron clearly didn’t seem to want to talk to him. “Are you okay?? I looked for you everywhere at the club.” He stepped in just a little more, hesitating beside the bed, because normally he’d crawl right in behind the smaller. But, he didn’t want to push this.

Aaron

Aaron turned over on his side because Roman was probably still drunk and he couldn't handle getting triggered again. He didn't really know what to say to Roman. Like at all. He wanted to just hold him and cry, but there was a part of him that was afraid even that would re-trigger him. "I'm sorry." He mumbled. He was sorry for so much more than just vanishing at the club. "I freaked out." He admitted.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman shrugged his shoulders, because he didn’t really know what to say to that. He knew Aaron was sorry, lord knows Ro was sorry too. After all, he felt like this was his fault. What did he say to his boyfriend who just relapsed because of him? “I’m sorry too. This is my fault, yeah?” He put his hands on his hips, feeling like he was going to melt, he was sweating so fucking bad at this point. Why did he wear this, of all things?!

Aaron

Aaron turned to face him. He felt bad that Roman was blaming himself for all of this because, at the end of the day, the reality star new that this was all his fault. Roman wasn't doing anything wrong by deciding to drink. He knew that, but he was so fragile right now. It was hard not to see it that way right now. "I don't know." He said weakly, still faced away from his boyfriend.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman’s shoulders sank when Aaron said he didn’t know, instead of trying to make him feel better about this. Maybe he deserved it, he didn’t really know. He was just...confused. “Am I not supposed to drink anymore as well, or?” He asked, because if there was a rule not known about here, he needed to be sure about it.

Aaron

Aaron sighed and finally sat up to look like Roman. He looked like a god damn angel, even though he looked stressed as hell. Aaron ran a hand through his wet hair and shook his head. "No, no. I'm sorry. No. I just... I don't know." He sighed in frustration. Aaron had never once expected Roman to stop drinking, especially since Aaron wanted Roman to focus on his recovery too. He didn't want to add another thing to that.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman stepped back until he was leaning against the wall, looking down at the floor as Aaron responded. Was he good for Aaron’s recovery? “I’m making you feel like you need to drink.” He said dryly, and then lifted a hand to push through his hair. “What if I’m like — bad for you? I’m such a mess, and I - you have a daughter, and I’m making you relapse.” He was still so drunk, and getting emotional - just saying shit. He didn’t actually mean any of this, because it’s not like he wanted any of it to be true. But what if it was??

Aaron

Aaron felt his stomach tighten. He didn't like that sound of that. "Roman, don't say that okay?" He rubbed his face. He looked up at Roman who was clearly still sloshed. "Roman..." He said, frustration and fatigue behind his voice. "Stop. Don't do that." He demanded. "Just...you're too drunk to talk about that. Go home. Sleep. I'll call you a car." He said, pulling out his phone. He should not be alone tonight. Roman should stay. Even if it was on the couch, it would have been better than Aaron staying here along in this big penthouse all night.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman looked up at his boyfriend when he told him to go home and sleep, feeling like he couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. He didn’t want to go home alone, he didn’t...he didn’t want to leave Aaron here like this, and being stuck in his apartment without anyone to distract him, thinking about this, and what had happened. He’d just want a bump. Anything to move him into another world. “You want me to leave?” He asked again, just to make sure, because...yeah. He needed to be told twice to get out of here.

Aaron

Aaron's heart was beating against his ribs quickly. He could hear the terror and hurt in his boyfriend's voice. He wanted to be able to lean on Roman tonight, but the counselor on the phone suggested that Aaron have some space from him tonight, especially since he was still drunk. "Roman, you smell like alcohol." He pleaded with him not to make this harder than it already was.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Ro could take a shower, and brush his teeth, but clearly that wasn’t something Aaron wanted. He could get the clue, even while wasted. “Fine. I’ll go.” He said with an edge to his voice, pushing off the wall, and turning to exit the room. He wasn’t even giving the man a chance to order a car, he didn’t want to. He’d driven here, he could drive home. He was too upset right now to think about things logically. All Ro knew was he wanted out of here, fast.

Aaron

Aaron should have stopped him and begged him to stay. Ran the shower for him and got him a change of clothes. He need Roman with him here tonight, but there were so many thoughts swirling around in his mind that he didn’t realize that at this point. He was just so scared and ashamed. Embarrassed. He worked so hard to get where he was and he fucking ruined it. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he watch his boyfriend walk out of the master bedroom and sank back into his bed. The ambien he’d taken before his shower had better start working soon.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #258

“as above, so below, what you reap is what you sow. what you give comes back threefold, as above, so below.”

Who was your favorite cartoon character when you were a kid? Pikachu! Have you ever asked a guy out on a date? No. Who do you consider your best friend in your workplace? N/A Do you have to have your bed or anything else in your room a specific way before you go to sleep? I think I almost always have to be facing the left, but I can't really say with total certainty considering you don't really like... *realize* when you fall asleep. Have you changed your mind about anything lately? I've been on the fence about things. What do you dream about most? What is the general tone or mood of your dreams? They're either uncomfortable, melancholic run-ins with Jason or horrible nightmares about being attacked in some way and being incapable of fighting back. Do you mind going grocery shopping or is it something you enjoy? Does ANYBODY enjoy it?? If you could have a physical feature like wings, horns, a tail, ect., what would you have? GIVE ME RAM HORNS. What is something you wish more people understood about who you are as a person? A lot of my struggling goes on in my head. Like I think I'm relatively open about when I'm having a hard time, but it's come to my attention recently that there's a lot of battles people don't see and leads to the belief I give up easily. Have you ever gone through a time when you had no friends? How did you deal with it? No friends I ever hung out with or anything, yes. I just had to start reaching out and opening up a bit more, and that's when Colleen came in. What is your favorite food to have as a snack? It depends on what flavor I'm craving. Usually though, something sour and gummy. What time do you usually eat dinner? That can vary from as early as 5:30 to as late as like, 8:00. When was the last time you felt extremely happy? Like about a week ago, the second night Mom slept on the pull-out bed a family friend got us versus that damn couch she's slept on for years. Her doing it a second time was like, verification that she was more comfortable and would keep doing it, which she has. Has any food ever made you sick to the point where you’d be afraid to try it again? No, thankfully. What is something you wish you had the opportunity to do more often? Get out of the house. Do you have any interests or hobbies you thought you would outgrow, but haven’t? I wasn't sure if I would ever "outgrow" RP. Apparently I won't. Is there an outfit that you wear much more frequently than any other? There are a few shirts, yeah. How old is your television? We got it when my parents were still together, so it's old. Do you have a laptop or desktop? A laptop. Do you own any television series box sets? Just Meerkat Manor. Have you ever been in a fight with your best friend? Yeah. Was the last movie you watched a horror film? No. Where is your favorite place to go when you’re depressed? On a car ride where I can blast my music. In high school, were you in trouble a lot? No. I only ever got in trouble for too many tardies in the morning. Do you enjoy your hairstyle? Yeah. Do you have weak upper body strength? Yikes yes. Do you think hugs are awkward? Not if they're friends or similar. People I don't like and/or know well but am expected to hug anyway, yes, it's uncomfortable. Story of my life with my sister's in-laws. Do you think facial hair is gross? ... No...? I mean sure, if it's not groomed it can be, but it's very natural and normal? Would you ever dye your hair an unnatural color? UGH I want to. My hair has such a hard time holding color... Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No. What is your favorite band of all time? Ozzy Osbourne. Always. Would you consider getting a tattoo any time soon? Literally ASAP. I was supposed to get my Mark one tidied up big big time for my birthday by a really professional artist with both holiday and birthday money, but Mom literally had to use it to keep this house and the car. It was admittedly frustrating, but I could tell she was far from happy about it and I can't *rightfully* be pissy about it. Then the cancer came along and threw a massive wrench in the plan, so now idk when that's happening now. What movie did you last watch with someone? I THINK it was the live action The Lion King with Dad. It's been a long time. Are you afraid of airplane rides? Not very actively, no. I acknowledge the risk, but it's not something I deeply worry about. If you’re reading a book, what page are you currently on? Don't have a book to read currently; I just finished the second Wings of Fire book, now I'm moving onto The Testaments by Margaret Atwood when we can order it over Amazon. Do you have a job you like? I don't have a job period. Have you ever lived with a roommate before? Yeah. How many scarves do you own, if any at all? Maybe one? If even that. Did you tell your last girlfriend/boyfriend that you love them? Yeah. What was the last thing your parents got mad at you for? Idk about Dad, but Mom... probably something I said? But I'm not sure. Do your pets have favorites? I'm the only one who handles Venus, and I'm Roman's favorite. How many people could sleep comfortably in the room you’re in? Just two if we share the bed. Would you like to have a treadmill in your house? I DESPERATELY want one. My legs are getting bad again now that I haven't physically been in school for what, a month? What’s the longest you’ve ever liked someone without telling them? Well, that would be Girt, but I went on-and-off with like-liking him for years... Since freshman year, really. It's hard to say because of my mind constantly changing. When is the last time you were on a swingset? Wow, no clue. At sleepovers, do you usually sleep on a bed, couch or floor? I haven't had one of those in too long of a time to really tell you. It would depend on the relationship, too. What’s the sweetest thing a gf/bf can do to get you to forgive them? Changed behavior. How hot does the temperature get in the summer where you live? High 90s/lower 100s. Was the last hoodie you wore too big for you? No. Did it belong to someone else? No. Have you ever taken Ambien to fall asleep? I was given it at the hospital, but it never did much for me. Did your last ex try to get back together with you after the break-up? No. Do you know someone who has 6 or more siblings? Possibly, but I don't think so. Do you rent movies frequently? Nope. What is your favorite thing to do outside? Take pictures. Will we ultimately end up destroying our own race? Yup. How do you think the world will end? Human life, climate change. Earth itself, probably like a meteor or black hole or something. I believe the universe itself will always exist. An alien ship lands at your house, and they want you. Do you go with them? Errrr no. If I even had the option. What’s your favorite meal to cook? I don't cook. Homework: Do you actually READ the chapters, or just skim through them? I read. I'd be too nervous about missing vital info to skim. If you were in a horror flick, would you be one of the first ones to die? Probably, but it depends on the predicament, I guess? What movie has been taken WAY too far, as far as sequels go? I don't know. I'm not a film buff. Do you refuse to eat certain foods because of what they look like? Yep. Green olives, for example, look so fuckin gross to me. Would you ever become a fan of a team you hate to please your spouse? No? Can you handle scary movies? I love scary movies. I enjoy the adrenaline of 'em. How often do you get a new purse…and for guys a new wallet? Not often at all. What is the most money that you have ever spent on getting your nails done? Never done that. Do you have a fake I.D.? Nope. Would you date someone 5 years older than you? Yeah. Have you ever been fingered? Yes. What is your favorite horror movie? Hmmm. I've got a bias towards Silent Hill, of course, but I also really enjoy both The Blair Witch Project movies, as well as The Crazies. Has a little kid ever fallen asleep on your lap before? Yeah. What’s your favorite kind of float? (coke, root beer) I can't remember the last time I had one of those. If you heard your best friend’s significant other was cheating on them, would you tell them? Even if you couldn’t prove it? UM yes. I mean it kinda depends on who told me this, like it could be total bullshit, but, they'd deserve to know that there was a possibility. If you discovered you were pregnant at this point in time, would you keep it or abort it? Why? If I got pregnant now, it'd have to be a case of rape, in which case I would probably abort, considering I'd be fucking traumatized worse than I already was. What is the last thing you googled? Uhhh shit. I think the definition for a word to ensure I was using it correctly? Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool? Nooo. I always wanted to as a kid, but I was ultimately too scared. Do you like hot, cold, or lukewarm showers? Hot, usually. Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? Yes. Where did your mother and father meet for the first time? I think work. Have you ever stayed in a cheap motel? No. I'm too much of a germaphobe for that. Have you been to Mount Rushmore? No. Do you sleep with the door open, kinda open, or completely closed? Open or kinda open, depending on if the cat moves it or not. How old were you when you got chicken pox? Never got it. What’s your sexual orientation? Bisexual. Do you have full or thinner lips? Uh idk, they look pretty normal to me. Which of the Pirates of the Caribbean's was your favorite? Never watched 'em. Do you press the delete key or the backspace key to get rid of a mistake? Backspace. How far do you live from your parents? I live with one. How many family photos do you have in your home? Like, on display/the walls? A pretty decent amount. Are you happy with how much money you make? I make none, so like... guess. Are you the type of person that will parallel park? Fuck that. To you, what is “the best thing since sliced bread”? Probably the Internet. Do you read and believe your horoscope? No. Do you have rules for naming your future children? I'm not having kids, but if I was to, no. Which actor, in your opinion, played the best Batman? I haven't seen them all. Have you ever TURNED DOWN an invite to a wedding? Why? No. Do you believe people should get married in a church? lol get married wherever the fuck you want. Name a movie everyone else thought was funny, but you couldn’t stand: *shrugs* Does the mall you go to have an arcade? Do you go in there? No. What is your favorite Little Debbie snack? This is ACTUALLY impossible. Don't ask me this question lmao. Got any interesting wigs? I don't have any wigs. What Mario game was your least favorite, and why? I've literally only ever played Mario Kart. I'm not that interested in the games. Have you ever been snowed in? Not to where like, we couldn't go outside. Does playing games in 2-D bother you because you now play mostly 3-D games? Oh no. Graphics absolutely do not make a game. Sure, they're more desirable considering it greatly improves immersion, but still. Sometimes 2D fits the "vibe" of the game. Tell the weirdest name of a town/city you’ve ever heard: Conetoe. You're pronouncing it wrong. Do you know anyone who DOESN’T have a cell phone? I don't think so. Do you like pineapple? Oh yeah. Do you get a flu jab each year? No, but I should start. Did you ever dream about being an animal? Maybe? Idk. What's your favourite colour on a dog? Orange/red. Do you have an electric or gas cooker? Gas. What do you like to drink at a restaurant? I usually get a soda. If we're at some fancy place for once, I'll usually get some light, fruity alcohol. What was the last book you read that also is a film? I don't have a clue. Have you always known what you've wanted to do with your life, career-wise? It's changed many, many times now. Would you stay at a haunted hotel? Hell yeah. What is the best HAND-MADE present you've ever received? It was this long, extremely sweet letter my mom wrote for my b-day two years back. It meant a lot to me. Have you ever gotten pizza delivered to your house that you didn't order? I don't believe so. Do you follow a 5-second rule after dropping food on the floor? NOOOOOOOOO sir. Did you take Flintstone vitamins or any others as a child? EW, no. We were lucky enough to have fruity chewy ones, not chalky crap. What types of things do you think the government is hiding from us? Oh my fucking god, a universe of information. Aliens probably being one of the least scary things. How do you like your soda: I think it tastes best cold from a can. Have you learned anything valuable today? No. What's your favorite kind of Doritos? Cool Ranch. Do your parents have MySpace pages? Mom has a Facebook. Be honest...ever peed in the pool? Noooo. When I was a kid, you went behind the pool and handled that. Have you ever pulled a fire alarm? Nope. Have you had your tonsils removed? No. Isn't Chef Boyardee awesome? Not a fan. What reality show has been taken WAY too far? I don't watch enough TV for this. Must you grab a souvenir from almost everywhere you go? Nah, not always. Did you enjoy making things out of Play-Doh as a child? I did. What do you put on hot dogs? Mustard and ketchup. Can you swim? Yeah. Hot dogs or cheeseburgers? Cheeseburgers. Your favorite hobby? Taking pictures, particularly of animals. Do you wear glasses? Yes. Do you have a phobia? Plenty. Can you drive a stick? Never tried. How many TVs are in your house? Two. Do you like to sing? Not very long. Favorite car? Idc. Is there anything (out of the obvious) that makes you feel really ill? Perhaps, but I'm not certain. Maybe some smell. WELL WAIT, gasoline can give me a real headache, but I don't feel like, REALLY sick. Do you know both of your biological parents? Which one do you prefer? Yes, and I don't want to choose between them. When was the last time you wrote so much your finger ached? My final exam for Writing last semester. What is something you think about yourself that nobody agrees with? Quite honestly, I wouldn't put extreme emphasis on my loyalty, but only because if you prove to me that you're undeserving of my friendship, trust, or anything like that, peace. I'm out. Family, friend, whatever; I don't care. Yet most people who know me have pointed out I'm extremely loyal, but really in all cases I can think of, I remained loyal because the person was worthy of it. What about something people think of you that you don’t agree with? This depends on the person and situation of course, but mostly, that I put on a damn good front of not being a socially anxious mess. Teachers and friends have pointed that out quite a bit, but I could NOT disagree more. I think I do awfully. What design is on your calendar this year? I don't have a current one. What is your favorite type of video game? Horror. What’s the weather like where you live? (All year round, not today) The baseline is IT'S HOT. Even our winters are - usually - very mild. Summer usually soaks the shit out of us; afternoon storms are literally an almost daily occurrence, so as you can imagine, the humidity could kill a man. The weather in general is very unpredictable year-round. When was the last time you climbed a tree? I've never actually properly done so. I grew up with almost exclusively pine trees, which only have branches much too high to climb.

[flatstarcarcosa]

our love has found its way into our mouths before

Summary: Three months ago, Slade died. Four days ago, he seemingly returned to life. Van quickly finds that something is amiss, and that strangers can wear familiar faces.  Ship: wilson and wilson at large  Warnings: Mentions of death, suicide, drug use, mentions of/allusions to sex (not direct smut)  Word Count: 2800  Note: tumblr fucked up my formatting yea boooooooiiiii, i’ll fix it later, lmk if it’s Too Bad Too Be Readable 

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

The man in front of Van is not Slade.

They know this, logically. He's not their Slade, at least. He looks like him, sounds like him and moves like him, but he's not. He may as well be a stranger, but every time they seem to settle in with the idea of that, they catch him watching them with something so familiar in his gaze that it all goes right out the window. It's been four days since he barged into the house, only to stop dead in his tracks and drop his helmet at the sight of Van standing in the middle of his bedroom. They were wrapped up in one of his sweaters, brushing their teeth and flipping through the early morning news. It took just a few minutes for them to realize something was amiss. As soon as this Slade mentioned his Van being dead, it all made sense. He hasn't said where exactly he's come from, an alternate timeline or simply the future, but Van's leaning towards the former. Why he doesn't want to tell them is beginning to eat at them, but it's not surprising he's being evasive.

It turns out a Slade is a Slade is Slade. He's currently drumming his fingers on the tabletop, one hand holding a beer mug as he tries incredibly hard not to look at them. Van stirs the straw in their rum and sighs, reaching for a cigarette. “So, how'd I do it?” they finally ask, flicking the lighter.

“Do what?” he asks, brow furrowing.  “You said your Van is dead,” they say, “and we both know there's only one way and only one reason why that is.”

“Actually...there's more than one,” he says. Van blinks as he continues. “My Joey is dead, and Rose hasn't been around in ages. I was...not around, either. Ignored a phone call, came back to find the house tore up, a message scrawled on the wall...” “That sounds exactly like when Joey got kidnapped,” Van says. 

“It was eerily similar, yes,” he says. He takes a swig of beer. “You and Joey got along, and Joey used to come over for 'surprise' visits if I was going to be gone for too long. Because I got him killed, he wasn't. Because Rose hates me, she wasn't. And I...”

Slade trails off, turning his gaze and lowering his head a little. Van taps ash into the ash tray and takes a sip of their rum.  “The fact that it wasn't an ambien and benzo cocktail that did me in is the most unrealistic thing you've said so far. But you'd find a way to blame yourself in that scenario, too.”  Slade frowns.  “I'm glad you think it's funny,” he snarls. “Really, it's balm for the wound.”  “I'm not wrong, though,” Van says. “Admit it, you're surprised too.”  “I'm not going to admit to being surprised that you were murdered rather than death by suicide!” he snaps, voice raising and catching a few glances from the other bar patrons.  “Oh, well,” Van says, lacing the words with sarcasm, “excuse me for being unbothered by a different version of me dying! I never expected to live to see 21 in the first place, so you know, I'm not too worried.”  “I know,” Slade growls, “you never fucking were which is why you never listened to me.”  “Still don't, by the way.” They knock back the rest of their rum, and then suddenly start laughing. Slade blinks, confusion clear on his face as they speak again. “Do you realize we're sitting here having an argument about the most in character way for me to end up dead? Like, what kind of next level dumbassery is this?”  For a moment, Slade says and does nothing, seeming to freeze in his anger. Then it eases out of him, and his face softens. He snorts, raising his beer.  “At least it's on brand,” he says.

The almost-laugh is like hearing music, and it crashes down on Van just how empty the last few months have been. They weren't bereft with grief when Joey and Bill had come home to say that Slade was dead-- shot in the head with a Titan's arrow-- because they'd known that he had died before. They weren't around when it happened, but hell, he'd been in the process of faking his death when the two of them met and entered into a relationship. Van's response to the news had been to say “he'll be back”.  Technically, they were right.  Technically, they were also so, so wrong.  They'd been waiting for Slade to walk back through the door. For him to collapse onto the sofa, or the bed, or whatever surface he found Van occupying. They'd been waiting to hear the low groan he'd make in the back of his throat when he came home exceptionally tired, the only warning they ever got right before he passed out so his body could repair whatever damage he'd done to it.

They'd been waiting for so much, and instead they got a stranger wearing a familiar face that pulled a knife on them and demanded they stop playing tricks on him. To top it off, neither Joey nor Bill are answering their texts or calls. They didn't bother to elaborate on the situation, something in their gut is nagging at them to let this play out on its own.  Van sighs and leans back in their chair, staring up at the musty ceiling and willing the rum to work its way into their system quicker. Luck of the Irish, I guess...

If they think about it too long, all they can come back to is that it isn't fucking fair. Maybe it's selfish to disregard the Slade in front of them for being different, but they don't care. They want their Slade, the one they've been side-by-side with for six years, not the one they've only known for four days.

“Now that I think about it,” they say, looking back at him, “how long was your Van around? Here it's been six years.”

“Eight,” he says.  “Ooh, did y'all still meet in Florida? OH, did I still have my car?”  “Stop fishing,” he says, “but yes. And yes. I still have your car.”

“Excuse me for being curious,” they say. They pull out their wallet, tossing the money for the tab on the table before standing. He takes the hint, draining his beer and following them. He watches as they light another cigarette.  “You'd stopped smoking, though,” he says, idly.  “That sounds fake, too,” they say.  “Why would I lie about it?!” he asks, and Van sighs. He's so short tempered. Slade never had a very long fuse to begin with, but this?

They don't know what this is.  “Slade, jesus,” they sigh, “it was a fucking joke. You remember jokes? I do them professionally on the side? Often about your cranky old fucking ass?”  There's venom in the words, and Van has no idea where it came from. Slade feels it too and they both stop walking. The heavy silence between them wraps itself around their necks, threatening to choke them both until nothing remains.  “I'm- this is...” Slade runs a hand down his face, exhaustion tainting every movement.  “It's not fucking right,” Van says. “It's not your fault, even you don't know how you got here, but it's not fucking right. I'm the only one that didn't think you were dead, but more importantly, I'm the only one who even cared enough about you to think that you'd be back. Everyone else was almost relieved to say 'Slade's dead', because it meant they could wash their hands of you without feeling guilty. You push everyone away, constantly, and I'm the only fucking person that doesn't let you get away with it. I'm the only goddamn one that loves you enough to deal with it, and then you go and you fucking DIE on me because you can't leave Damian the fuck alone!”  It's all coming out at once. Van hadn't even realized it was bubbling over this much, and now the top of the pot has blown off to fly in Slade's direction.  They're just happy they can excuse it with the fact that it's not really him.  “I fucking hate you sometimes,” they say. They throw their cigarette at his feet. It bounces harmlessly before fizzling out. “I worked so hard to bring you and Joey together, not for you, but for him. Because I care about him, because I'm never going to and have never had a father and I could see it every time I looked at him how desperately he wanted a relationship with you. I worked so fucking hard to give him something I'm never going to have and then you go and you FUCK his FIANCE.”

Van reaches out and shoves him with as much force as they can muster. He steps back, and they don't look at him.  “Not only do you fuck her behind his back, and mine, but then you have the unmitigated gall to tell him to stop overreacting. You couldn't just be normal, you couldn't just sit him down like a goddamned adult and tell him she was spying on him, you had to play your fucking games. Everything is always a fucking game to you and I hate you for it. Worse, sometimes I think it's myself I should be hating, for being fucking stupid enough to always play into your bullshit because sometimes you smile at me and laugh at my jokes.”

They go to shove him again, their anger getting the better of them at the last second and instead they end up punching him in the chest. They bring a fist back and punch him again, and again, and again and for his part, he lets them.  “Then you just fucking die, because of course you do!” They're screaming, in public, and they don't care. “Why should you ever face the consequences of your own fucking bullshit, right? That's what you keep all of us around for! Acceptable causalities.” Slade says nothing. He doesn't even move.  It makes Van angrier.  “Say something!” They bang their fists against his chest.  He doesn't.  They don't have the energy to hit him again. He cups their face in his hand, a calloused thumb brushing against their cheek and it feels alien and familiar all at once.  “I'm sorry,” he says. “I...I never told you enough. I never told anyone enough but you're the only one it would have counted for.”  “Yeah well, I'm dead, remember?”  “So am I.”  God, what kind of fucked up irony.  Van finally looks up at him as they reflexively lean into his touch. The weighted silence is still there, it's grip loosened just enough to allow them both to breathe for a bit. Enough to breathe, not enough to think. If they were thinking, they would know what happens next isn't going to end well for either.  Then again, maybe they do know. Disregarding common sense to plunge headfirst into fleeting whims has always been one thing they have in common.  Slade presses his lips to Van's and they offer no resistance as he pulls them flush against him. There's a deep, ravenous hunger in his actions that they're all too eager to fill. It occurs to them that when he'd answered eight years in response to how long his relationship with his Van had been, he didn't mention how long it's been since his version of them had died.

Too long is their only guess.  Van doesn't take notice of how they get back to the house, but they know it's enough steps and enough time to pump the breaks. They also know they don't want too. They don't care now, they don't care that it's not their Slade. They don't care that this Slade seems so much more damaged, so much more raw than the one they had just a few short months ago.  All they care about is that it is some form of him. They care that he smells the same, that he moves the same, that his weight feels the same on top of them. He explores their body as if he's never seen it before, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. He scrapes his teeth against their skin, giving a notation here and there about the differences from the last time he'd seen his version of them.  His fingers trail over their pelvis, and they feel him grin.  “No hysto yet, huh?”  They let out an annoyed huff, digging their nails into his shoulder blade.  “That's what you're worried about?” they ask.  “You feel a lot better after, is all,” he says, gripping their thighs and nudging their legs apart. It doesn't take much work on his end for Van's mind to fade into static, but then again, it never did. He always knew how to get their ever-collapsing thoughts to settle into place, even if only for a few hours.  This time, they don't remember falling asleep. One moment they're awake, pressed into the mattress and near tears as hormones and emotions flood their system and the next they're waking up to the sun piercing in through the window. They find themself wrapped in his arms, snuggled into the crook of his neck and their first thought is no. 

No, they don't want to be awake, and no they don't want time to move forward and no they do not want to deal with the situation they've created. They want to go back to sleep, and they want to go back to sleep with the knowledge that he's here and he's him and that nothing is wrong-- no matter how false the knowledge may be.

They can't. 

They know they can't, but the desperate burning need for it is enough to bring tears to their eyes and for a moment they wonder what life would be like if the damn dog had never taken off that day so many years ago. They wonder where they'd be right now if they'd never had a reason to take notice of his presence in their building. 

If wishes and buts...  Finally, reluctantly, they disentangle themself from his embrace. They pull his discarded shirt on and pick their cellphone out of their jacket. It's time to elaborate now, it's time to get some outside help. What good the help might be they have no idea, they just know they shouldn't be trying to handle this alone. Joey's phone goes straight to voice mail, and frustration begins bubbling in their gut as they listen to his greeting.  “Joey,” they choke out, padding across the living room and into the kitchen. “I don't know what's going on with you, or Bill, or Rose, but I need one of you to fucking call me back before I lose my goddamned mind. It's about your dad...it's about Slade. Something--” they pause to take in a breath, dragging their hand through their hair-- “something's going on and I need- I need one of you to please...help me.”  Van ends the call and tosses the phone onto the kitchen table. Joey not getting back to them is starting to get to them. Whether it was fate, or just luck, Van and Joey got along from the minute they met. They like to think if they'd met him under different circumstances they'd have still ended up friends. All these years and they've always tried not to drag Joey into any problems with Slade, but this is most definitely extenuating circumstances.  It worries them as well. Joey's been through a lot lately, and the longer they go without hearing from him, the more they worry he's relapsed.  “I can't deal with this,” they mumble. They decide to busy themself for the time being, and dig out the coffee maker. They shuffle around the kitchen, pulling out the grounds and the filters, and they get a nasty surprise when they pull out the pot and find they forgot to wash it the last time they used it.  Slade was always the one that double checked that. They blink away new tears as they scrub at it with more force than necessary.

They're leaning against the counter, watching the coffee drip into the pot when a pair of arms wrap around their waist to pull them close enough to nuzzle their hair. Before Van can react they hear a familiar, truly familiar exhausted groan in their ear.  “Next time I run off to get myself killed, I'll let you know beforehand,” Slade says.

He presses a kiss to the top of their head and reaches around them for a coffee mug, leaving them blinking like a dazed animal caught in a pair of headlights. Slade fills the cup and steps away, falling into a kitchen chair and frowning over his drink. He's staring at them with two eyes, and there's not a trace of his usual beard on his face. His hair hangs over his ears, the shaggy locks nearly touching his shoulders and looking nothing like the buzz cut that he—the other him has been sporting.  “What's wrong?” he asks. What's wrong?  What's wrong?

Oh... so many, many things.

[yourpharma360]

How Ambien Works ?

The Ambien defense was also utilized in the event of Julie Ann Bronson, a flight attendant from Texas.  Bronson took a few Ambien to help her sleep.  She went to bed early, and was drinking wine earlier in the afternoon.  She awakened in jail, still in her pajamas, barefoot and terrified.  She was horrified when she had been told that she had run such as an 18-month-old woman who suffered severe brain damage as a result of the mess.  "It was surreal.  It was just like a bad dream."  In May of 2012, Bronson pleaded guilty to the felonies of intoxication assault and failure to stop and render aid.  "I did the crime but I never planned to do it," she testified.  "I wouldn't hurt a flea.  And if I would have hit on somebody, I'd have stopped and helped.   Ten decades bronson faced, but as a result of this Ambien defense, she will serve six months in prison and have ten years of probation.

What is Ambien 10mg 

It was only in Patrick Kennedy's 2006 middle-of-the-night vehicle accident and explanation to arriving officers that he had been running late to get a vote the eccentric side effects of Ambien began to receive national attention.  Kennedy claimed the sleeping aid had been obtained by him and had no recollection of those events and Buy Ambien Online Overnight .

On March 29, 2009, 45, Robert Stewart, stormed to the Pinelake Health and Rehab nursing home in Carthage, North Carolina and opened fire, killing eight people and wounding two.  Stewart target was his estranged wife, who was employed as a nurse.  She hid in a bathroom and was unharmed.   Though there was evidence that Stewart's actions were premeditated (he allegedly had a target), Stewart's defense team successfully argued that since he was under the effect of Ambien, a sleep aid, at the time of the shooting, he was not in control of his activities.  Instead of the fees Stewart was convicted on eight counts of second-degree murder.  142 -- 179 years was received by him.

Ambien Overdose

As a result of this Schweigert verdict, an attorney used the Ambien defense by asserting his client's arrest had been shifted six months following by the drug's labeling to overturn a 2006 DWI conviction for a New Jersey woman.  The court agreed, stating it would be an"injustice to hold her accountable for the side effects of a popular and readily available medication that she was lawfully prescribed and properly handled." Not many prosecutors will consider the Ambien defense, and its position within criminal rules that are established is tenuous.  It doesn't actually fall under"voluntary intoxication," in which somebody is responsible for their intoxication and some other events that happen as a consequence of that intoxication.  The Ambien defendants took the medication, but they weren't aware they were drugging themselves in a means that could produce anything other.   The defendants knowingly took the medicine, because they're recorded as potential side effects in the information, and also the responses weren't unpredictable.  In the end, there's the"unconsciousness/sleepwalking" defense, where the individual is not responsible for the crime if he did not intentionally cause the sleepwalking or unconsciousness.  So that this defense does not really apply the whole motivation for taking Ambien at the first area is to create unconsciousness.

Ambien 5mg vs Ambien 10mg

After its approval, Ambien Dose rose to dominance in the sleep aid industry.  Travelers declared by it to fight jet lag, and girls, who suffer more insomnia purchased it.  Sanofi, the French manufacturer of Ambien, made $2 billion in earnings in its summit.  In 2007 Ambien's generic version was published, Zolpidem, and in less than $2 a tablet, it remains among the most prescribed medications in the usa, outselling painkillers such as prescription and Percocet strength ibuprofen. Not everyone who engages in bizarre behavior of accepting Ambien as a result ends up in trouble.  And a few people today enjoy the large they get from the drug so much they are willing to miss the blackouts and effects that result.  Recreational users started out taking the drug to treat insomnia, but discovered that if they fought the sleep-inducing effect of the drug, they could get really high.  "It's like having that drink in the pub when you realize you need to go home -- I would combat the pill's effects and stay up, often telling my friends mad things like how to turn the light inside the room in energy, or the way that paintings of forest scenes in their walls were actually drawings of mermaids bathing themselves into blood," writes one young woman whose dependence on Ambien caused increasingly bizarre and alienating behavior.  She continued staying awake regularly until one morning she awakened with a cut and two black eyes across her nose and taking the pill.  Her cushions were bloody, and a stranger was, wrapped in a rug, on her floor and naked.   This situation jarring, was not sufficient to get her to give Ambien up; the high was too good.   It wasn't until she was discovered wandering the Brooklyn streets in the middle of the night, almost nude, that she managed to give it up.

Guideline For Ambien 10mg 

Ironically, you are likely to succeed with the Ambien defense should you injure or kill someone than if you crash into a car or a tree.  DWI laws just need the prosecution to show that the defendant got and was loaded into a vehicle to drive.  There's no requirement.  When someone is hurt, nevertheless, it is up to the prosecutor to demonstrate that the suspect was conscious enough to become guilty of the crime.  It's hard to claim that they have knowledge of their actions, if people on Ambien are behaving in an automatic, or unconscious state.  That's why people prefer Lindsey Schweigert get permits while Donna Neely, that was sleep-driving on Ambien and murdered a mother of 11, was acquitted of vehicular manslaughter. Tiger Woods was also famously associated with Ambien when one of his mistresses claimed that she and the golfer could have"crazy Ambien sex"  Ambien reduces inhibitions and erases memories, an perfect combination for someone who's cheating on his spouse.  The buzz created by the drug seems to boost sex.  One girl described feeling"quite relaxed and sensuous" when she had sex on Ambien.  "I suddenly have floaty energy.  .  I am tired, but lively.  It's almost like I'm at a state.  I could compare it somewhat to weed, but nothing I've done really contrasts, in all honesty."

Ambien is one of the best dose 

Lindsey Schweigert took one Ambien Sleeping Pills  prior to getting into bed at 6pm.  She woke up with no idea how she'd gotten there.  In the following weeks, Schweigert pieced together the events of the night.  She'd gotten out of bed, drawn a tub, and left the house.  After leaving her house she began driving to a local restaurant but crashed shortly.  She was explained by police as glassy-eyed and swaying.   The flipside to Ambien's supposed attributes is the fact that it's becoming increasingly used as a date rape drug.  Actually, the single case of"sleep-sex" that appeared at an 2008 medical journal review of case reports on Ambien-related sleep behaviors involved the Ambien taker being raped.  The identical absence of inhibition together with amnesia which makes it possible for people indulge in behavior that is dishonest, to commit offenses, and also have sex on Ambien is an ideal formulation for a sexual predator.  Ambien is also readily accessible and more widely accessible than rohypnol, the drug related to date rape.

Ambien Overnight 

Schweigert had.  She had never been in trouble with the law and was scared of losing her job and having a criminal record.  Prosecutors initially wanted to inflict a six month jail sentence as well as other punishments, but Schweigert's lawyer contended that Lindsey's bizarre behaviour on the night in question was a result of a drug which cautioned right on the tag that"After taking AMBIEN, you may get up from bed whilst not being completely awake and perform an activity that you do not understand you are doing.   In fact, the attorney argued, Schweigert must have been taken to jail, not to a hospital.  Prosecutors dropped the charges and enabled Lindsey to plead to the lesser charge.  

Shortly Ambien users resisted Sanofi because of eccentric behaviours while.  Based on attorney for the class action suit, Susan Chana Lask, folks were eating things like buttered eggs and cigarettes, complete with all the shells, while under the sway of Ambien.   He blames Ambien, but for lapses in his memory within five decades and an extended period of writer's block.  "...a great deal of my memory is gone.  If you've ever taken Ambien, I don't know, but it's kind of a memory-eraser.  This shit wiped out five decades of my life.  People might tell me stories, and it's like,"I did that?"   Eminem has maintained a few of his writing from this period, confessing to Rolling Stone that"It fucking out me...Letters all down the page -- it was like my hands weighed 400 pounds.  I have that shit.  As a reminder that I don't ever wish to go back."

Final Words

A part of the category of drugs known as hypnotics, ambien, was accepted by the FDA in 1992.  It was designed for short-term use to fight insomnia and was a welcome change in the prevailing sleep aid at the moment, Halcion, which had been implicated in psychosis, suicide, and addiction and had been banned in half a dozen countries.  Ambien works by activating the neurotransmitter GABA and binding it at precisely the exact same place as the benzodiazepines such as Xanax and Valium.  The extra GABA action triggered by the drug inhibits.  To put it differently, the brain is slowed down by it.  Ambien is effective at initiating sleep working within 20 minutes.  Unless it's taken in the release type, it does not, however, have an impact on sustaining sleep.

[pharmacyforthemasses]

Sleep and Sleep Medications

So, sleep. There are two kinds of sleep: REM and non-REM. NREM is further broken down into four stages. During REM sleep, the brain is very active. During NREM, things tend to slow down. NREM sleep is affected by the neurotransmitters GABA and adenosine. REM sleep is “switched on” by cholinergic cells. Both types of sleep are necessary.

Insomnia is a very common problem, affecting around 30-50% of the population at some point in their lives. Primary insomnia is insomnia that is not caused by another disease. Secondary insomnia is a symptom of another disorder. For example, insomnia is common in people with depression and anxiety. There are also different ways that people experience insomnia. Some people can’t fall asleep, some people wake up early and can’t get back to sleep, some people are lucky enough to experience both. Personally, I’m an early-waker.

How insomnia is managed depends on a few factors. First, treatment varies based on whether insomnia is transient, short-term, or chronic. Treatment will also vary based on frequency of insomnia, effect on daytime functioning, and cause of insomnia (if one is identified).

Okay, so you’ve decided to talk to your doctor about the trouble you’ve been having with sleep. The first thing they’re going to do is rip apart your sleep hygiene habits. Let’s be real. We have terrible sleep hygiene habits. I’m playing on my phone basically up until the moment I close my eyes to sleep. I take naps as often as possible. I have the barest hint of a sleep schedule. After listening to you explain your sleep hygiene, the doctor will make something along the following recommendations:

Establish regular times to wake up and to go to sleep (including weekends). Sleep only as much as necessary to feel rested. Go to bed only when sleepy. Avoid long periods of wakefulness in bed. Use the bed only for sleep or intimacy; do not read or watch television in bed. Avoid trying to force sleep; if you do not fall asleep within 20-30 minutes, leave the bed and perform a relaxing activity (eg, read, listen to music) until drowsy. Repeat this as often as necessary. Avoid blue spectrum light from television, smart phones, tablets, and other mobile devices. Avoid daytime naps, and my personal favorite, schedule worry time during the day, do not take your troubles to bed.

Who schedules their worry time?

If you’re like most people, you’ve done a Google search before going to the doctor and you’ve already probably tried most of these things. Let’s pretend your doctor actually listens when you tell them this. Thus, it’s time to move up to the next tier of treatment, level 2: herbal and over-the-counter remedies.

I’m not too informed about herbal remedies. Melatonin has shown efficacy for some sleep disorders, but not primary insomnia. Valerian root has some evidence supporting its use. Anything else, though, I’m not sure.

There are a ton of over the counter sleep aids. Tylenol PM, Advil PM, ZZZquil, Unisom. Here is a secret: they’re all the same thing. The ingredient in all those OTC options that puts you to sleep are older antihistamines, usually diphenhydramine (Benadryl). This stuff is effective if you have transient insomnia but taking it long term isn’t the greatest because you can develop tolerance and need higher doses. High doses of diphenhydramine have some unpleasant side effects, so if you have insomnia that’s more frequent than a day or two a month, you need something else.

You tell your doctor, “I heard from my pharmacist that those OTC medicines aren’t good for long term use. I have insomnia almost every night. What other options are there?”

In a sane world, you would then be bumped up to the next level of treatment:, level 3: benzodiazepine receptor agonists (BZDRA), a class of drugs that contains benzodiazepines along with the “z hypnotics” zolpidem (Ambien), zaleplon (Sonata), and eszopiclone (Lunesta). These medications are generally safe and effective, though they do have some side effects to watch out for: daytime drowsiness, rebound insomnia when discontinued, and tolerance. However, studies about long term use support their usage for chronic insomnia.

However, we do not live in a sane world, so the odds of being a prescribed a BZDRA are low. These drugs are all classified as schedule iv narcotics by the DEA, a classification which means “this drug carries some risk of physical dependence, some-to-high risk of psychological dependence.” Doctors are reluctant to prescribe controlled substances (something I’m sure many of you are aware of) these days because the DEA is breathing down their necks about the opioid crisis. So instead of getting a generally safe, effective medication with solid evidence backing its use, you’re much more likely to get bumped into an alternative track of treatment, which we’ll call 3A: antidepressants.

Antidepressants have shown efficacy in treating insomnia…in depressed patients. There’s not really evidence supporting using them in non-depressed patients, but doctors do it anyway because they’re “safer.” Except they’re not, really; these drugs have significant side effects like weight gain, daytime drowsiness, cardiac conduction abnormalities, and others. Common antidepressants used to treat insomnia are trazodone, mirtazapine, nortriptyline, and doxepin. I have had personal experience with mirtazapine, doxepin, and trazodone. I’m currently taking trazodone because it’s the least awful one I’ve tried.

There’s one more medication worth mentioning, but it doesn’t really fit into the “tracks.” It is called Suvorexant. This drug is kind of cool, because instead of inducing sleepiness, it turns off your body’s wakefulness signaling. So once you’re asleep, you stay asleep. Obviously this is more effective for people who have trouble staying asleep rather than falling asleep.

So that’s it for the sleep medication guide. I could write a whole post about how ridiculously hard it is to get a prescription for a BZDRA, and I might in the future—I could also talk about how hard it is to get stimulant ADHD medications, if anyone’s interested. If you want some tips on talking to your doctor about insomnia, I’m always happy to roleplay so you can be more prepared.

[wildefiction]

Oblivion

WORD COUNT: 1,403

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Jared, Jensen and Misha fly to Germany to film the end of Season 14. Horseplay, however, comes with a price.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None really, a little fear and anxiety maybe

TWO

“Germany? Like the country full of beer, sausage and bar wenches?” Jensen couldn’t help but to crack a dazzling grin. It was a look that his character Dean had demanded and he had perfected over the last fourteen years. 

“Germany as in a fourteen hour flight and more time away from Gen and the kids…” Jared grumbled under his breath, upset at the lack of notice as if it were out of the ordinary. With a sigh, the tallest of the trio dropped himself into his seat and nursed the rim of his coffee cup; Gen had always been supportive but that didn’t mean he was thrilled about having to up and fly to Europe just to shoot a final scene. “Can’t they just use CGI?” He asked the question aloud and Jensen shrugged, finally having stopped fussing long enough for Mandy to begin working. 

“Who knows man, it’ll be an adventure at least, you can get your kids some lederhosen.” 

Both Misha and Jensen laughed and Jared simply rolled his eyes. It was too early for jokes. 

~

NOW BOARDING: FLIGHT 6927 TO BERLIN, GERMANY

The final boarding call had gone out long after Jensen, Misha and Jared were seated in their first class cabin, the trio having opted to share one of the business class suites that many international flights now offered as a means to back up their outrageous pricing. Money generally wasn’t an object but even Jared had balked at the four digit price that was the cost of comfort on their ridiculously long flight. 

“Fourteen hours from now we’ll be fresh faced and on set. How delightful.” Jensen yawned and looked at the glow of his phone before powering it down. They’d been on set all night before and were now at the airport and on the plane before the sun had even thought to rise. The end of an era had arrived and while it was bittersweet, he was personally glad for the chance at a break after fourteen years of success. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to take this opportunity to pop some hardcore ambien and sleep before I’m not able to anymore.” This came from Misha, who was admittedly the ‘dad’ of the group with his sweaters and ‘smart fitted slacks’ for their trip to Germany, while Jensen and Jared had gone a more conventionally cozy route of sweatpants and heathered knit shirts. “Same man, keep an eye on the clouds, tell me if they do any sick stunts.” Jensen nudged Jared and grinned, his ears popping slightly and signalling the ascent of the plane. Twenty minutes later, the captain turned off the seatbelt sign and within ten minutes, all three of the boys were fast asleep. 

Exactly seventeen hours and forty three minutes later…

“You’re late.” This the admonishing voice from Mandy, who ushered all three boys to the makeup trailer on a lot a couple of miles from their shoot. There hadn’t been room for everything within walking distance to the bridge and so they had been forced to make do. They’d do hair and makeup, wardrobe, then they’d be ushered to the actual set where a smaller trailer with last minute makeup and wardrobe awaited them. It was going to be a hellishly busy night. 

“Yes, well… yes we are, but the customs at London made us very nearly miss our connecting flight and  then the bus that was supposed to get us in Frankfurt blew a tire and.. And…” Misha waffled his hand as if to exaggerate the bullshit of a day they’d had. All three of them had slept well enough on the plane to be coherent but that didn’t mean anything when it came to Mandy. She had always been early, and being on time meant you were late, so the fact that they were over two hours late meant a lot to her. 

“Let’s just get this done. We’re here for a whole week for some reason so if we can knock out the last two days of filming, I’ll get some time to explore and maybe get the wife something as an apology for not bringing her to one of her favourite vacation destinations.” Jensen sounded a bit guilty, and Jared could only laugh. “Gen offered to leave the kids with her parents and come with me for the week, though she hardly sounded excited at the prospect. I think she’s enjoying the idea of having the bed to herself for a week.” Jared grinned and shrugged when Misha made an offhand comment about sharing a bed with a giant like him and being able to see why Gen was so happy to have a break. 

An hour and a half later and all three men were ready to go, the makeup having been simple for the first several scenes and the wardrobe being all together the same. Plaid, denim and for misha, a suit and his trusty trench coat. It was something that Mandy had come to be able to do in her sleep. 

---

“ANNNNND ACTION!” 

The director’s voice carried throughout the set and cameras focused on an image of Jared and Jensen standing over the admittedly beautiful view that was The Devil’s Bridge at sunset. The quickly fading sun made the reflection of the water an almost blood red that lapped at the base of either side of the arching bridge that were black with age and wear. With ‘baby’ parked behind them off the bridge setting the mood for lighting and suspense, Jared approached the ‘x’ target that would later be a CGI enhanced ghost. Firing a blank that would act as a round of rock salt, Jensen followed through with his part and together they completed the scene with a stunning amount of accuracy. There hadn’t been a single ‘cut’ yelled and while they had been doing this for going on fifteen years, perfection on the set was still a rare sight. 

“Good, good! CUT! Take five, cameras, ready for next scene.” 

When the impala’s headlights were killed, Jared, Jensen and Misha were left in the dusk of a warm evening, the sky above the colour of a raging fire and glittering rubies while the water quickly faded into an endless dark. Rocking back on his heels, Jared took a swig of his water and sighed. “I have to say, it’s one hell of a view.” Wiping a hand over his stubbled jaw, he gazed out over the water when Jensen came over and threw himself against a makeshift railing that had been put at the side of the bridge for ‘safety’ reasons; the wood groaning in protest. 

“Yeah, it’s not too bad. Texas has beautiful sunsets too, though, no need for a seventeen hour flight to see those.” He still seemed a bit bitter about flying. He always had. 

“Ah can it you two! Live a little! We’ll wrap up here in no time and--” 

Misha’s cheerful voice had been cut off when a loud creak of cheap ply board wood sounded, Jared was the first to step away from the offensive sounding railing and he swore when the jostling of his weight forced the wood to bow and snap, Jensen letting out a sharp curse as he tumbled backward and down, followed in short by the cheap wood iinto the frigid, dark water below. 

“....Jensen!? Shit!” Jared, being ever the hero was quick to follow the man that had played his brother for all of these years, his heavy body impacting with the water loudly and sending waves of the once mirror-like surface to the river’s edge. 

Ten seconds had passed, then twenty, and when thirty had breached the clock, Misha looked at one of the paramedics and shrugged out of his trench coat. “Might’ve hit his head, get ready at the shore, let’s hope this really isn’t a gate to hell.” 

With a quiet curse and a deep breath, Misha held his nose and stepped off of the bridge, the water quickly surrounding him in a frozen grip, squeezing him and yanking him down, he saw nothing in the void of light, only felt pinpricks of ice under his skin as he sank, further and further down until the depths were all but impossible for a river. Colours flashed before his eyes and within moments he felt nothing but the heaviness of his unconscious pulling him under. 

CHAPTER THREE

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

[witchy-writes-smut]

Just my add on to the WardPatientKeith/NurseShiro au

((Trigger warnings//also I fixed some grammar and stuff)) Keith is a mental patient at a ward and Shiro is his Nurse/Physician. Keith cannot go out of his room to walk around and hang around the common rooms like other patients because he’s attacked other patients in the past. Keith is diagnosed with bipolar disorder and often experiences symptoms that reflect schizophrenia. He doesn’t talk to anyone but himself and has very manic episodes when he’s not being distracted by something. Shiro is the nurse who is assigned to Keith and spends around 18 hours every day with him. Keith cannot be left alone on account he might hurt himself or have another episode, but now Shiro also stays because he has become rather affectionate with his patient. Keith’s emotions are manipulated and Shiro thinks what he’s doing is in the right. Shiro himself is a bit of an obsessive psychopath and shows signs of being manipulative. It is hard to come to the conclusion for others that he is this way because he hides them well. Shiro knows of his illness and plays it off well to anyone who gets the slightest bit suspicious, hence the manipulative aspect of being able to side-step even the slightest bit of worry and turn it on someone else. Shiro also abuses his position a bit. He spends 18 hours every day with Keith, but in those countless hours he spends a good portion unmonitored, he’s a trained professional who knows how to handle many different situations. Keith needs absolute care and full attention and Shiro is kind and easy about it. Nearly every day is a routine. Every morning Shiro visits Keith in his room at 8:15am. Keith doesn’t like to sleep in saying he’s scared to fall asleep because he doesn’t want the voices to reach his dreams. That’s why Shiro gets there early and leaves late every night to make sure Keith gets to sleep and wakes up properly. After Shiro helps Keith dress he gives Keith his morning dose of antipsychotics, a small dosage but it helps easy Keith into his day and ease his mind. Keith was very hesitant at taking medication at first but as soon as it helped him easy his episodes and hallucinations he didn’t mind as much, especially if Shiro is the one giving them to him. Keith usually likes to sit around until they kick in, so for about 40 minutes he waits in his room with Shiro. He likes to listen to Shiro talk while he waits or sit on his lap and rest his head on Shiro’s shoulder, Shiro always tells him plenty of stories and sometimes asks Keith easy questions to help entertain him. Once the antipsychotics have taken sometime Shiro feeds Keith his breakfast. He used to let Keith eat on his own back when he first started working with him but they have gotten very oddly close and Keith wants Shiro to be as close as possible. Shiro doesn’t mind, it's what he worked towards for many months and he finally gained it. Keith reads after breakfast with Shiro for a few hours in bliss. He wasn’t very literate, having not a good home life, but in the past months Shiro has helped him a lot with his reading skills and writing. Keith catches onto things very quickly. After reading they go on their usual walk through the courtyards until lunch. After lunch most patients go to the common rooms to interact but Keith has been banned for showing mass signs of aggression and even taking a patient to the infirmary before. The patient had been taunting him about god knows what but it sent Keith into an episode and he ended up taking his aggression out on the man. Keith doesn’t remember the incident. All he remembers is what is important to him. Mainly, all of his memories are of Shiro. Shiro made sure he was the only thing on Keith’s mind. Keith and Shiro do their own recreational activities together until dinner. Before dinner Shiro gives Keith his last dose of antipsychotics. After dinner Shiro give helps Keith brush his teeth, braids his hair, then into his night clothes. He gives Keith his insomnia medicine, not ambien but close. He helps Keith into bed and reads him a story at the side of Keith’s bed, stroking a hand through Keith’s hair.  Everything is okay, until its not. ((I was too lazy to add what you put but in my final au post I defidently will! This is just what I did in a few classes today because I was bored))