#please remember me when my ear infection inevitably kills me

[shorelinnes]

.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal story - part 4

Look, the story has a name (hopefully I’ll come up with a better one later)! And the characters do too!

Anyways, if someone hasn’t seen the picrews (it’s here if you want to), Whumpee is now Liam Beaumont, Caretaker is Chase Raymond and Whumper is Jonah Sharpe. If you have trouble remembering: Caretaker still starts with a C no I totally didn’t give him a name that starts with a C on purpose what are you talking about and I think you’ll get very different vibes from Liam and Jonah haha

CW: electric torture, forced to watch, whumpee held hostage, hurt no comfort (for now), restraints

tagging  @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot  @sunflower1000  @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove  @boxofsilence  @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince

Part one here, continued from here

-

Twelve messages wait for Chase when he picks up his phone. All from Jonah, all demanding him to work quicker, to give in new information faster. He purses his lips and takes a deep breath, clutching the new drive he was given to fill. 

After so many betrayals, he should be used to the sting that comes along with lying and deceiving. He’s done it before, felt that guilt, drowned in it – and yet he can’t help but hesitate. Liam’s pale lips, creased brows, shallow breaths, sparkle to life in his mind, a painful reminder of what is at stake if he annoys Jonah too much. Right beside Liam’s face, though, are the ones of Chase’s team, his friends, his family, all trusting smiles and loving gazes he cannot ignore. It’s enough for him to type a message and turn off the phone.

Working on it, Chase sends and hopes it is enough to keep the man quiet for at least another day as he turns his computer on and starts erasing from the drive the most meaningful information he’s stolen.

-

When Jonah bursts into his room, Liam is almost happy to see him. Five days have passed since he’s woken up in a room instead of the cell, and all he’s had since then is loneliness and echoing silence. With the only human interaction he was given being the occasional visit from a nurse who gave him a clinical once-over and refused to so much as look him in the eye, it was no real surprise when his thoughts spiraled out of control, swirling around and sinking down between Chase’s inevitable and yet somehow unexpected betrayal, and his new status as a hostage. 

“Doing better?” Jonah asks, leaning against the doorframe. Liam’s heart pounds both in relief and terror at the sound of a voice that isn’t his own.

“Do you care?”

“Getting some rest got your tongue loose, I see.”

“Why are you keeping me here?” That’s the question that’s been eating him alive, disrupting his sleep, watering his fear into a blossoming flower of dread that grows and suffocates any hope that tries to bloom beside it. Each answer Liam’s imagined sounds worst than the last, but if there is truth in any of them, he has to know. To prepare. 

“We talked about this already, didn’t we?”

Jonah’s eyes are as cold as he remembers from their few encounters, but this time something lurking there whispers stories of anger and pain to come, and that alone is enough to raise goosebumps along his entire body. 

“What do you want to let me go?” What could he have to give a man who is already filthy rich, when Liam has nothing to offer but a cramped apartment and a lot of resentment?

“Nothing you can offer, lovely,” Jonah chuckles. “Fair try, though.”

But nothing about this is fair, in any possible way. “So you are just going to keep me here because you don’t like Chase? I have nothing to do with him, please just let me the fuck go and I won’t even tell anyone, you–“

“Liam, honey, let us clear something up. There is nothing you can do to convince me to let you go. All you can do is comply, and maybe I’ll be merciful if you do, but you are mine for the time being, and there is no one here to help you but me.”

Liam’s reply dies on his tongue, killed by the unrestricted horror the words wash him over with. It doesn’t sound real. Sounds like something he’d watch in a movie, read in a book, hear about on the news. To hear them directed at him and feel the pulsating response from the healing stab wound in his gut, makes him hold his breath and pray to just wake up from this nightmare. When did his life turn into this? Was it when he met Chase? Was it before? 

“Now that that’s out of the way, come on, we have somewhere to go today.”

Liam’s stomach drops to the ground, farther, falling and falling to the center of the Earth as he clenches the sheets in his fists and hisses, “Last time you said that, you locked me up until I got an infection.”

“Ha, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Jonah says, raising a brow. Liam doesn’t even blink at the grin playing on his lips. “Don’t worry, love, I don’t make the same mistake twice. We’re having a different kind of fun today. Up now, or I’ll call my men to do it for you.”

Gritting his teeth, Liam pushes the sheets away and slowly stands up, holding his side and fighting a groan, but on his feet without help.

They walk in silence, and neither Jonah nor the guards say anything about how slow he is, or how terribly pitiful he looks stumbling through the hallways. A thousand words speed through his brain, pleading to be heard, but he doesn’t voice any of his questions. Doesn’t think he’d get an answer if he did, anyway.

He is led into a nearly barren room, with only a camera over a tripod standing in front of a wooden chair. A wooden chair surrounded by restraints.

He takes a step back before his brain catches up with the movement, straight against a guards’ chest. Jonah giggles and tuts softly. 

Two men grab his arms and drag him to the chair, and the panic suddenly becomes so deep, so all-encompassing, it swallows down his fight. He is pushed down on the chair, the restraints are buckled around him until all Liam can move is his head, and all the while he just sits there, hyperventilating and near to tears, as still as a statue. Watching but never moving, terrified but frozen in place, petrified, and he hates himself for it, even if he knows the feeling should be directed at Jonah and Jonah alone.

“Well, I didn’t know you’d be so pliable, sweetheart,” Jonah mocks, setting the camera up. “I would’ve played with you sooner had I known.”

He parts his lips, but the words refuse to form. Fear envelops each of them before Liam can push them through gritted teeth, and all he does is stare at the guards surrounding him, at the cold stickers being placed on his arms, his shoulders, his hands. Liam shivers, but there’s no air current here.

“Why, why, why are you doing this?” he chokes out. He knows what’s about to happen, has seen it on television enough times to recognize the electrodes, the box placed next to the chair. 

“Because Chase pissed me off today,” he shrugs, and a red light blinks to life in front of the camera. Jonah walks toward him, stops in front of the chair, and smiles. Liam’s eyes are blown wide as he stares up at the man. “Has Chase ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?”

The weight on his stomach is so huge that Liam can’t even find energy enough to feel outraged.

Jonah pulls out a linen scarf from his pocket as the guards plug wires to each sticker and wiggles it in front of Liam’s face. “Here, I’d bite down on this if I were you.” When he fails to open his mouth, the man rolls his eyes and grabs his cheeks, squeezing so suddenly and cruelly his mouth opens without command and the scarf is shoved inside, making him gag. “Not that well behaved, huh. No problem, we have time to get you obeying.”

When the guards take a step away, Liam finds himself wishing they didn’t. 

“Smile at the camera, love,” Jonah says, stepping to the side so Liam is the only one being recorded. He stares straight at the lens and tries to draw in a deep breath.

He knows it is coming. He prepares for it. And then Jonah flips a switch, and there’s no preparing for pain so big, for agony so deep.

The world shatters around him as electricity lights up his body, turns him inside out, upside down, and no breath could’ve ever made this any better. There’s no air to breathe, no room to writhe, no place to escape. There is only pain, boundless and searing, here and now, splitting him into thousands of shards he can never hope to piece back together.

And then it stops, and his throat is raw but he doesn’t remember screaming and his chest heaves as he fights for air and tears fall from his eyes to his chin to his chest but he doesn’t remember crying either.

“Beautiful,” Jonah sighs somewhere close. Liam coughs and chokes on his own tears, trying to beg or maybe cry out, but whatever his mouth forms gets caught on the gag before it reaches anyone’s ears.

Please please please stop, it hurts, hurts so much, so, so much, please, please–

“Let’s go again.”

Liam doesn’t have time to even be scared before his world dissolves into burning agony once more. All he can do is scream and silently plead for help he knows isn’t coming.

-

When Chase turns on the phone, his heart nearly stops at the video awaiting him.

Two hours have passed. After five days of trying to convince that despicable man to let him see Liam and failing miserably, barely sleeping, worry and guilt eating at his insides, he fell asleep. He forgot. For one hundred and twenty minutes he allowed himself to rest, and now he is paid with Liam’s frozen image staring at him, waiting on Jonah’s chat, along with one single line of text that chills him to the bone.

This is for turning off the phone.

He clicks and feels a chasm opening in his gut when Liam fills the screen, strapped to a chair, scared eyes darting around a room Chase can’t see through the video, searching for an escape that is nowhere to be found, stopping on each electrode that is stuck to his body. The fear is clear as crystal on his face. It makes Chase’s heart squeeze until his chest is so tight he places a hand there, afraid to find it as hollow as he feels. Liam doesn’t talk, doesn’t scream, doesn’t beg. He simply blinks at the men towering over him and doesn’t ask for help, and that might be what truly undoes Chase.

And then Jonah turns on the switch, and Liam’s head snaps back, body contorting against restraints so tight there’s no room for him the thrash. Even through the gag, he screams, and Chase would scream as well if he wasn’t too busy gripping the phone as if his life depended on it, trying to steady his trembling hands.

When the shock stops, Liam’s face is tear-stained and exhausted, sobs wracking his body and ripping apart Chase’s soul. 

His fault.

It is his fault. After everything, after betraying Liam into not trusting anyone, after losing the boy who might’ve been the love of his life, after being responsible for his stabbing, his kidnapping, after everything–

The switch is turned on again, and this time when Liam screams, Chase’s eyes well up with tears he has no right to cry. A kind of rotten helplessness takes over his body, its clawed fingers wrapping around his arms, his legs, his heart and squeezing, whispering and shouting his failure, his guilt, his powerlessness. His eyes plead to close, but he needs to see this. It is his fault, his burden, and if Liam was forced through it, he has to at least watch it to the end. If anything, to know he’s still alive.

It lasts longer the second time. A life. His useless life. Liam convulses and cries and howls, and if Chase could only take the pain to himself, he would. He would switch places with Liam in the blink of an eye. He is the one who deserves that pain. He is the one who betrays and hurts and destroys anything he touches, and it should be him, not the boy who smiles at the sunrise and cries over books and dreams about changing the world. 

He stares unblinking at the screen and watches in silence as electricity courses again and again through that body he had once held and thought about spending a life beside, fogging those eyes that used to engulf him in love, twisting that face he once kissed and touched and loved into one of raw despair. Each time it stops, neither of them has time to catch their breath before it starts again. After the third time, Liam doesn’t cry out anymore. His voice breaks in a ragged wail until it dies down and all that’s left are silent sobs.

When the video ends, Chase is nearly numb. The last image shows Liam’s head hanging forward as he struggles to breathe, Jonah’s fingers casually carding through his sweaty hair.

Chase is out of his house before his brain even processes what he’s doing, inside his car, driving to Jonah’s building in a blur of hatred and desperation. When he parks in front of the tower, the phone buzzes and he doesn’t hesitate to read it. Not anymore. Never again.

You lost visit privileges. Leave the drive with the guard at the door and keep in touch. 

With Liam’s screams still ringing inside his mind, forever trapped there, he doesn’t dare do anything other than what he is told. He gives the guard the flash drive, and for the first time in years, he prays. Because if anyone notices the most important files missing… he can’t bear the thought of what could be done to Liam in retribution. 

(next)

[lxpinwrites]

Excerpt from an AU from my partner’s story

(for @gingerly-writing‘s craving asdfasfadsf)

--

He should have died.

The thought rang clear in his otherwise fuzzy mind the moment he awoke in the cold cell, his entire body aching as if struck with a fever. 

As if he had lost a crucial battle, one that he never meant to walk out of anyways.

He sat up slowly, stretching his weary muscles and growing worried when his prosthetic didn’t move, momentarily thinking that it was malfunctioning until he saw the mangled arm lying limply against his side, the product of yet another one of Dante’s monstrosities.

He removed the useless arm with a pang, trying to ignore how unnatural he always felt without it. The crystal once used to power it fell to the ground with a clatter, now glowing with a bright green magic that he remembered all too well. Dante had corrupted it, then, just to render him useless enough to be unable to work his crossbow.

Quentin had been right. He would have never won. 

A heavy door screeched in protest from somewhere within the dungeon, casting the room in a strange light as boots clattered towards him slowly, confidently. Momentarily he considered ripping part of the prosthetic into a shard, to end his imprisonment before it could worsen, but all he could think of was Quentin, of Maria, of how he would never get to see them again.

“A fine prisoner you make, Flemming.” 

The voice, once clear and smooth, scratched through a ripped out throat, harsh in Aleksander’s ears. He didn’t want to look up at the speaker. He didn’t want to see what his - what Dante had become. He didn’t want to know the lich who had changed his name to reflect his monstrosities.

The caged door flew open and green magic was surrounding him, forcing his head back until he could see Xakras, looking down at him as if he were a mere insect on the ground to be stomped. 

“Quiet for once, are you? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a Sorian in their place before. Or is it perhaps too painful to speak to me?”

Aleksander’s brow furrowed in confusion, momentarily wondering if Xakras was speaking of perhaps grief. That is, until he opened his mouth to speak, the words inarticulate as his tongue throbbed in pain. “You’re a monster.” 

Xakras laughed, a cruel sound that made his heart ache. Dante’s laugh had always been so warm, a fireplace in the winter. Aleksander bitterly thought of the feelings he had long ago held for him, naively thinking that making Dante laugh would make him fall in love. That had been a foolish thought, for Aleksander only ever fell deeper whenever Dante laughed. 

How idiotic he had been. 

“It would be unwise to reopen an already infected wound, Flemming,” Xakras remarked, releasing him of his magic. “I believe we both know that your constitution is rather... unsuitable for infection, is it not? Though, it wouldn’t pain me to see your tongue removed.”

Aleksander looked down at the scepter he held, his stomach flipping uneasily when he saw dried blood on the blade, wishing that it was only his own blood, that Alyssa wasn’t dead. 

“I’ll die anyways,” Aleksander said, irritated that he couldn’t even speak like normal. It seemed that Xakras had taken away both his body and spirit. He wished he could hate him. “The best doctors in Soria couldn’t cure the infection.”

“The best doctors in Soria didn’t use magic.” Xakras spoke easily, as if stating a simple fact and not caring for the hope it brought him. He leaned against the caged door, looking down at him and for once, almost seeming like Dante again. “And I didn’t give you permission to die.”

A sudden anger overcame Aleksander, his fevered cheeks red. “I won’t become what you are. I - I won’t. Even if you force your curse on me, I’ll - I’ll find a way to die.”

“I wasn’t offering you lichdom,” Xakras said, rolling his eye. “Spending five minutes with you is long enough. I am, however, choosing to heal you.”

Magic paralyzed Aleksander yet again, and before he was able to process what was happening, Xakras was approaching him, pointing his scepter at him until the pain was only a memory. He released him roughly, not caring that Aleksander didn’t have two arms to catch himself. 

He must have noticed how Aleksander was looking at the prosthetic like he had missed an opportunity, because he scoffed. “Please. I was a weakling when you lost your arm. It would have taken ten of me to heal the sickness you had.”

Aleksander thought that for a moment, Xakras sounded regretful, though the feeling passed as quickly as it came. Xakras turned towards the exit, his ripped cloak swaying in the wind. He watched as, before his eyes, a strange magic surrounded Xakras until - to his surprise - he looked like Dante again.

In his shock, he didn’t even react when the prison door was left open. Nor did he react when Xakras said, “You’ll find your old study repurposed for your new life. Don’t try to escape - you’ll find yourself stuck between myself and my guards. Pray that the guards happen to find you first.”

With that, he left, leaving Aleksander with a hopeless exit to inevitable enslavement, wondering only what purpose he could possibly have for Xakras, wondering if Quentin would think to come find him. 

—

Aleksander had wondered if it was pity that made Xakras spare him, though the study that had been transformed into a workshop told him otherwise. He barely remembered the dusty old room, having used it when he lived in Sipara. Now, it so closely resembled his workspace in Soria that, for only a moment, he feared that Xakras had already infiltrated his home. 

There were several differences, however, that never allowed him to feel quite at home. 

Aleksander had stolen one of the guest bedrooms at his estate, turning it into the very place where he had built the first prototypes for his prosthetic. He remembered how Maria would catch him awake late at night, working through the last kinks of his most recent idea. She had always scolded him for sleeping so terribly, and yet she had always left a steaming cup of his favorite coffee on his desk, kissing his forehead before going back to bed. 

She had made the entire room warm, despite the constant draft it had.

He sat down at the workbench roughly, still exhausted from the fight. He wanted to do nothing more than sleep, yet he was too terrified to dare close his eyes in Xakras’s palace, fearing that at any moment, someone would come to kill him. 

Instead, he scavenged the room for metal, having memorized the blueprint for his prosthetic in case he ever lost it. Building was harder than before, and Aleksander realized that he had grown spoiled by having two arms again. Now, he was practically useless, and he occasionally considered asking one of the guards nearby for help.

He didn’t realize that time had passed until the sun was low in the sky, casting his desk in a red light that, strangely, made him long for his little knight. Gods, he could only imagine what Quentin would have done if he had been imprisoned. The poor bastard had panicked enough when the elves had captured them. 

Aleksander stood with a shaky breath, frustrated at the slow pace of which he was building. He wasn’t surprised to find that the only window in the room was barred, though it seemed like a useless precaution. The room was several stories in the air - and Aleksander was terribly afraid of heights. 

Dante would have remembered that about him, Aleksander thought. 

He stared at the horizon, watching the ocean from afar and wondering where Quentin and the others had sailed to - if they had even survived the chaos of Loria burning. The smoke of a burning village nearby still hung in the air. It had been a massacre, supposedly. He had been unconscious during it, stuck in the dungeon for who knew how long. 

Aleksander knew Xakras was near when the guards outside his door kneeled in unison, their heavy armor clanking about and echoing in the empty halls. He tried to prepare himself for whatever the tyrant was planning, though he didn’t think he would ever be able to face him without thinking of Dante, without wishing things had gone differently. 

He briefly wondered - only for a moment - what would have happened if he had refused Alyssa’s quest, if he had instead demanded a conversation with Dante instead of an assassination. 

He supposed it would have all ended the same, anyways. He wasn’t Oklena, so he supposed there was no use in trying to predict what was the best decision. 

“It’s not your best work, I’ll admit.”

Aleksander flinched, whipping around to see Xakras by the workbench, observing the barest mechanics of a prosthetic with a scrutinizing eye. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your abilities already.”

“It’s hard to build with one real arm and one hunk of mangled metal,” Aleksander remarked, his throat lumping bitterly. “The crystal in it is - it’s all beyond repair.”

Xakras snorted. “Did you think it would be easy, facing me? You built the original with a fever and a half-dead arm. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I had a friend with me, last time.”

[langdxn]

salvation part v: doomsday | outpost!michael x witch!reader

SUMMARY: The final confrontation between good and evil comes to its end. Will Michael survive?

WARNINGS: Angst. So. Much. Angst. Deaths, meddling with original timeline, a crying baby and a sneaky Xavier reference.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

A/N: Strap yourselves in guys and dolls, the finale is here! I’ve adored this story since day one and your support has meant the absolute world to me, thank you to every single person who’s read, liked, reblogged and commented over the last few weeks. I may write an epilogue sometime but this is the end... for now.

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

Michael stood frozen to the spot beside the birthing pool, staring intently at the space where his wife stood not seconds before.

His thoughts darted around frantically, trying to piece together what he had just witnessed. Desperately searching his memories for any hints over your years together, anything that could explain how you suddenly knew how to transmute.

She was a witch all along?

He shook his head aimlessly, dismissing his thoughts. He would’ve known, he must’ve known. He could sense every witch in the world, down to their last known location. You never once let on, in fact he never searched you for any suspicious activity because he had unquestionably trusted you ever since you first met. No spells could pass anywhere near him without his express knowledge, that’s just how his powers worked.

But you. You blocked everything. You placed a shield around you, an impenetrable curtain that kept out the Antichrist himself. There was only one explanation for you being able to subvert his powers.

You were more powerful than Michael Langdon. More powerful than the Alpha. More powerful than the Supreme. 

More powerful than Satan.

———

Miriam mewled peacefully in your arms, wiping her closed eyes with her tiny balled fists. Michael would do the same thing each and every morning, particularly if his alarm summoning him to another mundane Cooperative meeting invaded his dreamscape.

You hardly had time to process her arrival, your guiding light in the darkness finally making an appearance after nine exhausting months. Your legs could barely carry you, your body aching in places you didn’t know existed, your head faint and fuzzy as you lost more blood in the last few minutes than you ever had before. 

Your transmutation landed you in another unknown room in the endless corridors of Hawthorne, no indication of how far you’d travelled or even if you’d reappeared in a safe location. You hadn’t exactly had time to practice your spells over the years, there were more pressing matters at hand - the end of the world, for instance.

Spinning around in the room bathed in ominous yellow candlelight, you spotted a cluster of precarious tall pillar candles, a dark armoire in one corner and a plush velvet king-sized bed in another; crisp and tidy as if it hadn’t been slept in. Unleashing a sigh of relief at the seemingly peaceful atmosphere here, a metallic scent scorched the back of your throat. You made your way across the room to search what you assumed was the en-suite bathroom, but your stilettos slipped ungracefully on something wet beneath your feet. Clutching onto Miriam tightly, you regained balance and your gaze shot to your feet.

A gratuitous pool of fresh blood rippled beneath your heels. Perching Miriam on your knee, you crouched to dip a finger in the crimson liquid and your eyes rolled into your skull to initiate a vision.

A blonde woman in extravagant dress entered the chamber, ushering a masked, cloaked figure behind her. The woman dropped to her knees, grappling at the figure’s clothing. The figure removed their black mask to reveal a man’s weary features.

Brock.

“I know all about you, Coco,” he commanded. Tears pricked at your tear ducts as realisation hit - the scene you were reliving was the culmination of Brock’s arrival at the Outpost, what brought him to his death mere moments ago.

“Oh my god, Brock! How the fuck did you get in here? What happened to your face?” The woman scowled, examining his features.

“Radioactive fallout, cancer, cannibal attacks, infections that never heal,” he anxiously revealed.

“Oh honey, there wasn’t a minute in a day I didn’t think about you,” she pleaded with faux innocence. Coco protested weakly, tentatively grabbing his boil-ridden hand.

“I’m so happy,” she lied. “You’re back. You’re alive... you’re so angry.”

Without a blink, Brock sank his knife directly into her forehead, snarling as blood gushed from the wound almost instantly. Coco collapsed on the floor as the blood loss claimed her life, her eyes fixed open as crimson poured down her porcelain face.

“Happy Halloween, bitch,” Brock smirked.

Miriam’s disturbed cries bolted you back into the room, initiated by what sounded like raised voices in the corridors beyond the bedroom. You shushed the baby gently, a familiar, brash voice filling the silence left behind.

“Die again, fuck face!” Coco snapped from outside the bedroom door. Again?

You stepped quietly toward the door, pressing an ear to the wood.

“Normally that’d work,” Michael seethed at her, “but I’m nothing like normal.”

Anguished yelps, obscene squelching sounds of ripping wounds and the snapping of bones indicated Michael had indeed extinguished more threats to his survival.

This is it, you warned yourself. Time to step up. You paced to the bed and wrapped Miriam in its luxurious velour throws, planting a gentle kiss on your daughter’s forehead.

“Mommy will be right back for you baby, I promise. I have to go help daddy and you really won’t want to see this,” you cooed reassuringly, trying your hardest to communicate to a minutes-old baby that crying in this situation could threaten the safety of the world as you knew it. 

Placing a tender kiss on her impossibly small forehead, you burst out of the bedroom and clicked the heavy door shut behind you. A muttered incantation and a waved hand assured you nobody could reach your baby in your absence.

———

You scanned the golden corridors pointing in every direction, desperately hoping for a sign to point you towards your husband.

Catching a glimpse of Michael’s black boots stalking around a corner ahead of you, you paced gently behind him and tucked yourself into a doorway.

“How did you think this would end?” Michael scoffed, standing his ground in a marble doorway. “Prophecy is inevitable.”

“I was always going to win, Miss Supreme.”

“Not on your own,” a female retorted. “You’ve been led by the hand, coddled the entire way. By your father, the warlocks. I look at you and I don’t see a man. I see a sad, scared little boy so pathetic he couldn’t even kill me with a thousand nuclear bombs.”

“But I never expected to,” Michael sighed. “Like a cockroach, I knew you’d survive the nuclear fallout. I wanted you to. And now I’m gonna have the satisfaction of watching you die, knowing you failed.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? Even now. You think there’s only winning and losing, success and failure. But failure is when you’ve lost any semblance of hope. You will get to watch me die, but you won’t find it satisfying.”

A knife Michael clutched tightly suddenly floated away from him towards the Supreme.

“Satan has one son, but my sisters are legion, motherfucker.”

“Yes, I suppose we are, Cordelia,” you chimed.

The clacking of your stilettos shattered the silence between them as you took your place beside your husband, his jaw dropping as you entwined your fingers with his.

“Remember me, Ms Goode? Fourteen years ago, you begged me to come to Robichaux’s with you, hone my powers, discover my gifts, harness my talents... follow your lead.”

You cocked your head sarcastically, stepping forward to shield Michael in case the caped blonde lashed out at him in a last-ditch attempt.

“You knew I had potential even then. Your powers started to fade as soon as you stepped towards my house, you felt your dominance slipping through your fingers as soon as you laid eyes on me. The only reason you haven’t dropped dead already is because I refused to conform; to follow your lead; to shape myself into a perfect Cordelia carbon copy.”

Cordelia searched your face for answers, unable to comprehend a word. She was convinced she had won the battle and the war, as if the end of the world was as straightforward as good against evil. She stared at the dagger in her hand: helpless, powerless, alone.

“Go ahead, try it,” you tempted her. “See if sacrificing yourself will help your golden girl rise up. Don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work though, we both know tempus infinituum requires a potential Supreme to even make a half-assed attempt at it.”

“It would be a shame if the rising Supreme were... oh, I don’t know. Me?”

You raised a flat palm towards Cordelia, waggled your fingers in a facetious wave and a force compelled the Supreme to raise the knife in her hand, pointing to her chest.

“Ple-please, please don’t do this,” she wailed desperately as she stared at her hand moving without her consent, molten tears scorching her cheeks as the tip of the blade edged nearer her heart.

“Your sisters showed no mercy to Brock, Ms Mead, my husband. I don’t do mercy, Cordelia. I am the next Supreme.”

The blade slowly tore its way through her chest, a blood-curdling scream pouring from her ruby lips as she stumbled backwards, her eyes widening as she lost her footing and fell backwards to her death.

The shattering thud of Cordelia’s body hitting the bottom of the spiral staircase behind her commanded a stark silence. You gasped sharply as a bolt of energy burst through your chest, the bronze lights above you flickering wildly as they witnessed a transition of powers.

Michael’s boots clacked their way towards you and his arms snaked around your waist, turning you to face him as he leaned his forehead against yours. As his bloody fingertips gripped your hips reassuringly, an overwhelming relief tinged with amazement washed over his blood-splattered, exhausted face.

“Bitchin’ kill, babe. I call next.”

------

One final tag team! @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern​ @psychobitchtess​ @theinevitableprophecy​ @leatherduncan​ @abbyjforman​ @melodylangdon​ @shadyrindt​ @hplotrfan​ @littlegirlsdontplaynice​ @bluebirdbts​ 🖤🖤🖤

[mayphoenix]

...with Long Intervals Of Horrible Sanity turned 9 today! Wow -- nine years! Where has the time gone? I should give an update. My life has taken on great changes. I am still living in the same apartment, still going through the same battles with housing and food assistance (they cut the latter and I’m getting $100/mo to buy groceries). My eldest cat has renal failure and pancreatitis and I have no idea how much longer he will be with me, so I am cherishing every day. Not to be outdone, two other cats decided they needed to have costly trips to the vet, one with a middle ear infection brought on by food allergy, which I’m now treating at home, and another who had to have all but four of her teeth extracted. I had to put my ghostwriting on hold for fear of losing rent assistance -- back in 2017, I was told it didn’t count as “regular” income, but then in 2018 I got a new caseworker who said all income counts, but now I’m back to the previous caseworker and she refuses to return my calls or answer my emails, and calling the main number is useless because it routes directly to a voicemail box that’s always full.  Back in November 2017, I received Kona, a 2002 Subaru Impreza Sport from a friend who could no longer drive (medically). She knew I needed a car, so she just gave it to me. Original owner, she had put 38K miles on this vehicle. Mechanics everywhere have said, “That car will outlive you!” Yeah, well...unfortunately, this particular make/model/year of Subaru comes with what one website calls The Dreaded Head Gasket Problem. It is inevitable, and last winter I noticed a lot of odd-smelling exhaust coming from Kona that smelled of burning coolant. I had the radiator and thermostat replaced, and was told there was a leak somewhere. A few months ago, another mechanic found this tiny leak. I am told I can still drive as long as I watch the coolant level and temp gauge, and what to do if she overheats. Meanwhile, the Check Engine light is on because the O2 sensor has gone out, and now there is a squealing sound which I know means a bad belt somewhere. And the brakes are getting soft, too. I was quoted over $1800 for the head gasket repair and O2 sensor which entails taking out the engine, fixing it, and putting it back in. I’ve already had to replace two tires (and on an AWD, you have to have all tires matching -- come to find out, they have discontinued this tire so I got two of the last new ones in existence). This “free” car has already required over $1000 in work. And it’s all I’ve got so I have to do what I can to make sure she keeps going. Now, I don’t know if I’ve talked about this, before, but I do have a spiritual side to me. It’s not conventional by any means. I don’t subscribe to any one religion. But I always knew I was a natural healer (laying on of hands, energy work) and came from a long line of witches (going back to my Pictish ancestors and Native American roots; my great-great-grandfather was a medicine man). I used to do this for as long as I can remember, drawn to people in pain and using something inside me to take it away and make them better. I never knew there was a name for it, until one day someone saw me working on a friend’s migraine and asked, “Where did you learn Reiki?” My reply was, “What’s ‘Reiki?’” I had a very dark period in my life about 15 years or so ago where I shut down, though, withdrew into myself, because I was so depressed and suffering from undiagnosed PTSD and anxiety/panic disorder. I was so afraid I would pass my sickness on to someone else, so I stopped healing. Following the end of my marriage in 2010 and being on my own for the first time in my life, I went through several surgeries and was put on different medications for various ailments, some of which nearly killed me. I also had a few TIAs (mini-strokes). The only thing keeping me from ending my life was knowing my cats needed me around to care for them. Also, I found out my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s but then six months later during a follow-up, the doctors at U of M Ann Arbor said, “It’s not Alzheimer’s, we don’t know what it is.” (Note: based on her behavior, it may be Vascular Dementia but that can’t be diagnosed until after death -- so for now, we just know it’s dementia.) And then right before Christmas 2017, I got fed up with the repeating cycle of being used and abused by my sister, prompting me to cut ties with her, and my eldest niece told me to go fuck myself, leaving me pretty much on my own. Well, Life has a way of making things fall into place whether you like it or not. After all the shit I was going through with the TIAs and getting my cholesterol under control (I’ve put myself on a low-carb diet), my chiropractor told me out of the blue, “You should go into Reiki.” Damn, there’s that word, again... He said there was a guy named Adam, a massage therapist and Reiki Master, who rented space from him twice a week; I should talk to him. Well, Adam was never in when I would go for my appointments. One day, my friend Keith who volunteers at the local Gilda’s Club said I should look into their free workshops for yoga, meditation, and tai chi. I figured this might be good to help with my stress levels, at the very least, so I checked their calendar -- and there was someone offering free Reiki at the end of the month. I went in and immediately felt something happen, just being in the room with this woman. It was like being inside a Tesla coil. I began telling her things -- about her, like her childhood, etc, that she confirmed. And I began to cry. Not out of sadness but release. She said when I walked into the room I had an entourage of spirits with me -- guides, angels, light beings -- more than she’d ever seen, before. She got me on the table and while she never once actually touched me, I could feel pain, like she was physically pulling on me. What she was doing was pulling things out of me. She found his large cord attached at my solar plexus chakra and said, “You are attached to past trauma.” Oh, yes...yes, indeed. I told her to cut the cord and I felt it. It made me cry out, it hurt so much, but then afterward...I felt different. Something had changed.  A week or so later, I went to my next chiropractic appointment, and when I stepped out of the exam room, I turned and saw this young man standing in the hall, looking right at me. I just stopped and said, “You’re Adam.” He said yes. “You’re a Reiki Master.” He said yes. “We need to talk,” I said. And he showed me into his room, where we spent an hour talking. I noticed he seemed nervous. He said, “I’m always nervous in the presence of a great healer.” Who, me? He said he could ‘feel’ my energy. He then recommended I go to Jodi, the Reiki Master who taught him. I found her place of business online and saw that they did monthly “Open Reiki Shares” where people just get together and work on each other in a group, for free. One of these sessions was coming up. I decided to go and see what it was about. What happened that day...it was incredible. Not only was I healing but I was tapping into the minds of these other people, seeing what they were seeing. Then they got me on the table and the Master seated at my head began to shake. She said, “You’re not an Old Soul -- you’re ancient, and you come from a place across the universe.” Well, I already knew that...but no one else had ever acknowledged it, until that moment. Someone picked up on the fact that I’m a writer, and then another Master said, “She is a Storyteller, and she is going to help others with her words.” Cryptic! They also said they saw a mass of spirits around me, and one of them said that there was a guide who had yet to reveal itself to me but would do so soon. I signed up that day to take Jodi’s Reiki I & II course. When the time came, I found myself learning things I already knew, things I already did, and I understood after all these years why people thought I knew Reiki -- because I had been doing it, all along. Even my chiropractor, who is an empath and a healer, sensed it in me. During the attunement, as I had my eyes closed, I “saw” a dragon look down over my head at me while Jodi was behind me. I had been told she had a Dragon guide, so I figured that was him. I even looked up and said, “Hello!” I cannot begin to describe how it felt to be attuned, and how I have felt ever since. I called my friend Seth, a massage therapist and a powerful healer in her own right who is studying shamanism, and she said it sounded like I was tripping. I was seeing everything in such sharp focus, hearing things, aware on so many levels. Jodi had asked me if I experienced anything during the attunement and I mentioned seeing her dragon. She just grinned and said no, he was my Dragon. Now, please note: in the late 90′s, I attended a drumming circle class where we all went on an inner journey to meet different spirit guides, and the one that appeared to me was a Phoenix. Back then, I figured he represented that part of me that was always getting burned up and somehow rising from the ashes. I even got a tattoo of the bird on my back. Well, now I have a Phoenix and a Dragon -- in Chinese, these are the balance of Yin and Yang. Coincidentally, my first tattoo was a yin-yang, and one of the first rings I ever bought was a yin-yang with the OM symbol on either side. It would also explain why, after being attuned, I had a sudden craving for Chinese food... I have since learned the purpose of these guides. The Phoenix is used in long-distance healing when I send Reiki out to others, and the Dragon protects me while I do my work. He will also “encase” me or other people in eggs of protection. The Phoenix takes his duties very seriously, while the Dragon...is a bit of a diva. He’s also a shape-shifter because I’ve seen him in full reptilian form and in human form with wings. I have many other animal totems but these two are connected to my healing abilities and now that I’ve come back to that aspect of who I am, I find that they represent the dual sides of me -- Two-Spirit. The Phoenix is still me as I reinvent myself, refusing to be destroyed. I used to be so timid and when I screamed in anger I sounded like a wounded animal; now when I’m angry, my Dragon roars through me, refusing to take shit from anyone.  Life has changed for me so much since this all happened. We are in a time of Awakening and Transition, and I’m seeing it all around me even as I, myself, am going through it. I have people asking for my help -- “Please send me Reiki!” from all over. And I do. I’ve been using it on my cats. I’ve used it on myself. It’s incredible. I have been changing the vibration in my home, making it brighter, more colorful, inspirational. I have been finding old jewelry and wearing it (that’s the Dragon, show-off that he is with his bling!). I have been pushing myself out of my comfort zone and spending more time at Gilda’s, where I hope to offer free Reiki once a month to those who need it. I am also hoping to get a portable massage table so I can do Reiki housecalls. I’ve even joined a local group of professional writers that gets together once a month. I have started to wean off of one of my medications (Klonopin) which has been rough but I knew I had to stop when I began to notice an occurrence of bad side effects and found that it could do a lot of long-term damage to other parts of my body. I am doing meditation, now, which helps.  I am also preparing to set up a Patreon in order to fund my writing so I can get my first novel out -- somewhat autobiographical, it has been years in the works and deals with surviving narcissists and finding one’s path in life, it’s called The Dragon in the Garden. (I came up with the title ages ago; little did I know...) I have a sequel plotted, and then another book set in New Orleans with different characters. All of these are mine, not ghostwritten, but I can’t use my own name because two other authors have published under variations, so I’ve come up with something else that will serve.  Bit by bit, things are falling into place. But you know the most important part of all of this? I am not stressing out, anymore. I have decided to live in the moment, and see anything ahead of me is positive. Yes, I am concerned about the state of the planet, about the children in concentration camps, about the madman running the country...I am aware. My head is not in the sand nor in the stars. I remain a realist. But I can do that and focus my energy on making things happen for the better. I am being the change I wish to see in the world. I am putting out what I want to receive; instead of calling negativity to me, I am sending out positive energy. I cannot deny the results, the changes that have happened since I started to do this. It’s good. Very good. Recently, I volunteered to make a journey to Mississippi, driving a rental car down to the Gulf of Mexico and back in three days (18 hours driving down, 21 hours driving back), to rescue some kittens that were about to be abandoned and bring them to a local foster group. I saw this as an opportunity to do a Medicine Walk/Spirit Journey. I saw so many signs along the way, received messages, and learned things about myself. I had my eyes opened to people around me, those who would deceive and manipulate. And I had a lot of time to think. I discovered new levels of forgiveness within me, and how to release what is no longer of use or importance. It makes things so much better, so much simpler. I have wasted too many years worrying about stuff and nonsense. 

Oh, I still have limitations -- physical and mental. As my Reiki Masters have all told me, every healer is damaged in some way. I envision myself as a work of kintsugi, the Japanese art of putting broken pottery back together with gold. I am not perfect and never will claim to be. But I know that I am One with the Divine, Source, Creator Energy, God/Goddess/All That Is. I am on the right path -- and maybe I always was. I just had to go through some dark and scary places along the way in order to be where I am, now.  Namaste!

[trbl-will-find-me]

Every Exit, An Entrance (22/?)

There are two (and only two) possibilities: either she led XCOM to victory and they are now engaged in a clean up operation of alien forces, or XCOM was overrun, clearing the way for an alien-controlled puppet government to seize control of the planet.

She’d really like to figure out which it is, but asking hardly seems the prudent option.

New Year’s is quiet. They watch old Twilight Zone episodes on her laptop and pop a bottle of sparkling cider when the clock reads 00:00:01 1 1 2016. It is not grand, and it is not fancy, but as her lips meet his, Elizabeth Regan is happy.

“Any resolutions?” He asks.

She tips her head against his shoulder. “Hmm, all the usual ones seem sort of blasé now. Who gives a shit if my paperwork’s late? Aliens invaded the Earth. We fought them off. We won. I’d like to say it’s to develop a more regular sleep schedule again, but somehow, that seems about as likely as learning to understand football. I know,” she says, after a moment. “How about finding bigger sleeping arrangements? That sounds good.

“You’re saying you don’t think two adults are mean to fit on the same twin XL mattress? I’m shocked.”

“Much as I loved undergrad, I could do without reliving that particular aspect.”

She feels his chuckle deep in his chest. “Don’t know why.”

She shrugs. “I’m just funny like that. Traveling spoiled me.”

“Lizzie, I hate to break it to you, but the bunk’s a lot bigger than an airplane seat.”

She laughs. “That’s not what I meant! We stayed in some fairly nice places. They had real beds. Beds big enough to share.”

“We only tested that, what? Two? Three times?”

“Three,” she says, wiggling closer. “The spiders. Zurich. Berlin.”

“Ahh, the spiders.” He kisses the top of her head. “How could I forget?”

“How could you forget? I woke you up at two in the morning.”

“You woke me up in your bathrobe.”

She laughs. “I thought it would be quick! I didn’t think you’d be offended. I still had underwear on!”

“I would go with distracted over offended.”

She presses a kiss to his jaw. “Sorry.”

“It was nothing compared to the villa. You know, the one with the pool?”

“I’m not sorry about that.”

“Tease.”

“I was hot! It wasn’t air conditioned!”

“You were in a bra and panties. They were floral.”

“You do remember!”

“I don’t think I could forget if I tried. Not that I’d want to,” he adds.

“Would it really have been better if I’d been in a bathing suit?”

“You were standing there in your underwear. It wasn’t a far jump to other places you could be standing in your underwear.“

“But is it really worse than a bikini?”

“You own a bikini?”

“God, no.”

“Exactly.”

“You were so surprised that they matched. I don’t know what you were expecting, but it apparently wasn’t that.”

“I was so surprised you were standing there in them.”

“I was wearing a silk blouse and a linen skirt. I couldn’t jump in a pool in those. The dry cleaning bill would have been even worse than it already was for that trip. Though,” she says, trailing off. “If you’re really so baffled by the sight of matching lingerie, maybe I should just keep the uniform on after all.”

He sets the laptop aside and catches her in a kiss, pinning her to the bed.

“I think I’ll adapt.”

–

She lingers the in the archway, watching Central help Sally fit her armor. He steps back to look at the girl, then brushes a stray bit of hair behind her ear. He reaches into a pocket and presses something into her hand, but whatever he says is too quiet to carry. She slips it around her neck and under her shirt, then throws her arms around Central’s neck. The gesture seems less foreign to him, and he pulls her in closer for a moment before releasing her.

Sometime later, the whole of Menace One Five stands assembled in the armory, split into fireteams: Sally and Kelly on one, with Zaytsev and Wallace on the other.

“For better or worse,” she begins. “This isn’t a standard op. You’ll be escorting two hostile parties to a rendezvous point that you’ll receive once you’re on the ground. Kelly, Royston: you’ll be with the Reaper. Wallace, Zaytsev: you’ll escort the Skirmisher.“

“We’re operating in the dark, people. We know little to nothing about conditions on the ground, or what you’ll be facing. Both the Skirmishers and the Reapers have agreed to a ceasefire for the duration, but I don’t know to what extent either side intends to honor those terms.”

She draws in a deep breath, and her demeanor softens. “My point is: be careful. We could be facing anything out there, and the nature of negotiations is volatile. Stay alert, watch each other’s backs, and don’t take any risks you don’t have to. If this goes well, we stand to gain two very powerful allies. Good luck, team. You’re on the clock.”

Menace salutes her and piles onto the Skyranger, stowing their gear for transport. She heads back towards the bridge as the craft rises towards the open air. Central gives them the go for takeoff, and they are on their way.

Forty five minutes til drop and she stands on the balcony overlooking the ship’s heart, a bottle of water in her hand. Central is next to her, hands braced on the railing.

“Sal looked like her mom, all kitted out like that,” she offers. “It’s gonna be like having a ghost on the field.”

He nods. “Steph would kill me if she knew.”

“Didn’t want Sally following her into the family business?”

“Think she knew that was inevitable. Just wanted to put it off for as long as she could. I promised her eighteen.”

“But?”

“But Volk must’ve had a reason for asking. If he really thinks a friendly face might help defuse some tension…” He shrugs. “She’s a good shot. She’s got good instincts on the field. She ever gets a better hold on that Gift, and she’s gonna be something else. Besides,” he shakes his head. “I know her. She would’ve found a way to go no matter what I said. Least this way, I get to feel like I gave her my blessing, instead of having her sneakin’ around behind my back.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?” She asks, softly.

“Little bit of both.”

“It’s just one op.”

“And then another, and another. She’s an XCOM operative now. Not much I can do about it.”

“You said it yourself: was probably inevitable.”

His shoulders droop. “Regan, I never should have been a parent. Half the time, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, and the other half, I knew it was the wrong thing. But I tried to keep her safe. I didn’t always succeed, but I tried. Now, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do, but watch and hope. Just hits harder than I thought it would.“

–

What surprises her most is the normalcy. For all his concerns in the wake of Berlin, there is no discernible change in their professional relationship. Everything flows as it should. If the men suspect anything, they do not show it — a near guarantee that all appears as it was.

It occurs to her that it is because they have been together, in some way or another, for a long time already; always in one another’s orbit, always able to parse the other’s meaning with a minimum of explanation. It is what makes them such a good team, what has always made them such an effective team.

She could laugh.

Or kiss him, but she’ll have to wait til later for a shot at that.

“Commander,” her comm sounds. “When you have a moment, please stop by the labs.”

“Of course, Doctor. I’m on my way.” She catches Central’s eye across the room. “You’re in charge. I’ll be with Vahlen in the labs if anything comes up.”

“Understood.”

She breezes through the empty Common Room on her way and stops to pause a moment, trying to envision the space decorated for a wedding. She believes in Molchetti and Hershel, no doubt, but she still can’t wrap her head around it. Still, Steph had seemed grateful they’d taken such an interest in it; she and Edouard still seemed to have their hands full managing their families.

She realizes she will not have to wonder for much longer: the twentieth is rapidly approaching.

Vahlen pulls her into the labs’ small conference room almost immediately upon her arrival.  Shen sits in the dim light, apparently waiting.

“Should I call Central?” She asks, suddenly wary.

“No. Someone needs to monitor the energy spikes,” the Chief Engineer says, shifting uncomfortably.

“What’s going on, you two?”

“In the wake of the energy spike in the base,” Vahlen begins. “We noticed a change in the blood samples we had previously tested. The nanomachines, which we had previously observed in a dormant state, activated.”

“And?”

Vahlen reaches into her coat pocket and hands her a vial of dark green liquid.  “This was our sample with the highest concentration. While it still carries some DNA markers, it has been mutated beyond a state one could reasonably call human.”

“This was blood? Human blood?”

“Indeed.”

She passes the sample back to the scientist. “Goddamnit.”

“While correlation is by no means causation,” Shen offers. “I am reasonably confident that the Fog Pods serve as a kind of control mechanism for these nanomachines. The energy spikes we have previously observed must be instructions to remain dormant. The spike from within the base was likely an activation. If it was able to take out our monitoring tech, such a pulse would like be catastrophic to civilian communication devices.”

Her mouth runs dry. “So, it’s a time bomb. What do you suggest?”

Shen and Vahlen lock gazes for a moment. “A dual pronged approach,” Vahlen says. “My team will work to understand the machines’ effect on human physiology.”

“And mine will work to disable the Pods.”

The Commander nods. “Do what you can to start investigating countermeasures for those already … infected.” She rubs at her temples. “Brief Central, then get to work. Let’s not cause a panic, but we’re working against a clock we can’t track.”

She rises from the table. “Anything else?”

The question is met with shaking heads.

“Good. Dismissed.”

–

She does not think she is hallucinating, but she does not entirely believe what she sees is real, either.

Zombie movies were always something of a joke among her cohort. How could anyone be so bad at responding to a biothreat to let it escalate the way it always seemed to? What idiot allowed that to happen?

ADVENT, apparently.

The hoard, things that might have once been called human but might now only be called humanoid at her most charitable, advances down the alley, blocking Dragunova, Kelly, and Sally’s only exit path.

There is seemingly no end to their numbers, a whole city mutated beyond recognition. With each wave they shoot down, more appear. It feels like a video game with an unmerciful AI; she tries not to focus on the comparison. Her sense of reality is impaired as it is. There’s no reason to exacerbate the problem.

She tries to focus on the positives. Contact with the Reapers went well. Dragunova seems comfortable operating in the ruins. She’s a strong third member of the fireteam and already seems to have a decent rapport with Sally, who in turn, works in uncanny synchronicity with Kelly. For his part, Central has barely touched his flask, a fact she notes with no small amount of surprise.

The creatures continue their approach, unphased by the gunshots thinning their numbers.

“Out!” Kelly calls.

“I’m spent,” Dragunova echoes.

“I got this,” Sally chirps, scrambling on top of an automobile carcass, and onto a nearby fire escape.

“Sally, what are you —“

“Trust me, Commander.”

Gunshots ring out, and the Lost begin to fall in quick succession. Kelly and Dragunova reload and make quick work of the remainder.

She does not believe in ghosts — not really, at least. They are things of myth ad fairy tale, scary stories used to coerce little children in from the dark. The dead are the dead. Their memories roam the halls, yes, but the cause remains the grief of the living.

She believes in an afterlife, though. For her own sake, she has to. She has to believe that there is a chance, however small, that the lost are not gone forever, that reunions are not a pitiful dream.

She believes that, wherever Stephanie Royston is, she would be proud of her daughter.

Central’s grip on the railing is tight, but when she looks, there’s pride in his eyes. “That’s my girl.”

[taiey]

The continuing adventures of “taiey writes liveblogs that probably only make sense with a transcript of the movie to line it up with”.

no peter please don't go after him

he really does get the most dramatic lines—ooh, green reflection in the window!

wow, that's. She really does ask for validation a lot of times

:((( this whole goblin kit thing is really elaborate? like, i thought you would've failed science. there is mechanical engineering. and chemical. for bombs.

That's a really, really stable spider web that is also flexible enough to support them without clinging, at that angle

[obligatory evil meteor mention]

Surprisingly evil-looking mail delivery guy! Uuunless you're her dad and you live here or. Oh, okay.

Oh, May.

But, like, no pressure or anything.

!!! her ring.

ahh evil evil scooter. of evil.

Harry this is not a good way to have an honest conversation. Stop punching your friend. No, I don't care that you're in costume, he's not, that makes it—DON'T STAB HIM!

I guess by the time your friend is yelling at you about his father, while wearing his green goblin costume and standing on his green goblin scooty-fly, it is acceptable to tell your friend his father was the green goblin, despite said father's dying request.

Dude! Attempts at vengeance on your best friend for murder of your father are NOT an excuse for massive property damage! I hope you pay for the repairs OH AND ALSO did no one get hurt by that massive shower of bricks onto a busy street??

"I'm still here! And now I have a lightsaber!"

oh no what if your new superpowers don't cover falling from heights? (I'm sure they do, I know he dies at the end of the movie.)

I wonder, again, if Peter took him out of the goblin costume first. like. awkward.

Wait, what? I thought when that guy jumped/fell out a window he died.

There's marshland in New York? With a terribly ill-secured particle physics laboratory?

OH MY GOODNESS YOU GUYS, YOU'RE TERRIBLE! you can't even check how much mass is in the reactor? How many birds with superpowers does New York have now?

Also awkward: imagine if those cops had gotten there slightly differently and fallen into the spinny thing toooo...

Go. See. Him. and hope maybe he doesn't remember you're spiderman if he doesn't remember you saved his liiiffffe  (oh, good.)

Hey, Peter, you maybe want to. idk. Tell MJ. Some relevant facts, about her friends and his father and.

yikes that's some horrifying sand movement. like. yeeesh no.

Oh... your hand cannot pick up your daughter's locket. :( —yes! go hand, reformed hand! Woohoo! :D

Hey, nice green-ing, sand. Good job. Stripy and everything.

Yeah dude no. Don't start talking about spidey now. The other stuff was kinda okay but not, well.

Okay so when there's a large metal beam swinging about nearby your window... maybe... not? with the walking towards it?

Man, what is wrong with this crane?

you did not pick a good guy to insult peter parker to, whatsyaname. eddy. Ed. idk.

“YOU TELL MY WIFE thank you.” heh. Slight, teeny, tiny, character development, I love.

He didn't see you there, I didn't see you with a camera. Where'd you get the camera from, Pete?

Ed. Shut up. He's paying you $50 for a front page shot, he does not value anything about you.

Like, that could be a conflict for Peter, ‘i could stage that and get a steady job’ buut I already know the plot of this movie and can kinda guess how Edward gets that shot.

That is an excellent Stan Lee cameo.

...how much... exactly... has harry lost of his memory... if he doesn't know he has money...

SUPER EVIL REFLEXES!!

...oh, Mary Jane.

...oh no don't you be jealous.

This'd be a really awkward parade thing if he decided to not in faaact show up oh no. Oh, no. Oh, man.

Wow, that sure is a conveniently placed "Sand & Stone" truck. Where'd you get that shovel?

Wow, bullets work surprisingly well considering he's made. of sand.

[obligatory note of happiness about the MJ&Harry bit. and. honesty.]

dude put yer mask back on

ehhhh look the thing about the humble never-asks-to-be-thanked thing is that it doesn't work when. this.

Oh my goodness he asks her? He suggests it?? Peter, no!

"No, Spider Man, no!" I relate to this kid.

like, i've seen gifs ofit, that shekissed him but i did not realise he aSKS HER TO

Yeah, same, Mary Jane!

haha but maybe this time mary jane won't be kidnapped

The sand is now driving a truck. Poorly.

Yeeeesh no, stop, no, ~sheriff~? You’re not.

tbh what if you just. Let him take the money. So much property damage going on here. So very much.

WHAT IF YOU DIDN'T KISS SOMEONE. WHILE PREPARING TO PROPOSE TO SOMEONE ELSE. WHAT. IF.

This guy... is gonna end up bringing you that ring at the worst possible moment during your inevitable argument. Isn't he. Isn't he, Peter.

You could also try telling him you got fired, MJ. He knows that feeling! Kind of.

...not that you should say that, Peter. 'cause it's kind of only kinda.

how have you not noticed how terribly your spider man/actress analogies go over. every single time.

Like in a literary sense it's kinda cool, there are parallels between their experiences, kinda... BUT NOT RIGHT nooow

shhuuuttt uppp (this is all like 5 seconds, i just keep. pausing.)

Hey, what could make Mary Jane feel worse right now? ENTER GWEN STACY.

ENTER GWEN STACY TALKING ABOUT HOW SHE KISSED SPIDERMAN

“Who kisses Spiderman?? :D” "Me. Most days. When I'm not mad at him for beiNG TERRIBLE."

I. I'm not sure. like. what the point of that question is. There is no good answer.

No. He did not, MJ. He had idea how it would make you feel, because BOY I DUNNO.

um. usher guy. no. SHE JUST LEFT, WHY WOULD YOU SEND THE CHAMpagne in anyway, whyy

Beep!

Oh, hey! I was right! That other guy did die, probably ...aand it wasn't your fault. technically.

We chased down the wrong guy?

Pfff.

Yeah so I think so far he really hasn't killed anyone. Not counting Norman or Ock on technicalities.

Does he feel guilty? About you or about... okay, don't say "I don't need you" to Mary Jane Watson. That's a bad idea.

The evil ooze has been hanging out in your bedroom for ?? weeks and it's only now that it attacks you? infects. thing.

"Hey, this was a lot quicker than last time I made a new costume."

Spiderman is just, like, an accepted traffic hazard by now, right?

Oh, I'm so glad he's being suspicious of the black goop.

...you're not a biologist, but you can recognise a symbiote on a molecular level in minutes when it's AN ALIEN.

dude please realise you look super evil now. even to —haha like you shouldn't smash people's cameras but also haha

"Little did Spiderman know, I have TWO cameras!"

OK I'll admit the black is legitimately good for hiding on dark ceilings

TRAIN ASSISTED WEB KICK!

oh gosh the body horror from this sand thing—hope that pipe wasn't important--ooh, water works.

...also hope this large tank of pressurised water isn't important and won't flood annnything else.

EVIL HAIR-PULLING-DOWN

...that's... kinda a valid point? but. I mean sure, he should fix the door, probably, just not being polite

Hey, Peter, you made a good decision! Nice! AND STAY OFF.

Aunt May isn't having any of this "murder can be good" stuff.

revenge == the symbiote ??

Waitress/Singer is a job? ...also maybe you should tell your boyfriend about thi—Harry paints? Cool!

(Does Harry know that MJ's dating Peter?)

Yell at people and they offer you oranges?

Hee Ursula! :D

He also cooks! And they dance!

M. J. Do not. Noooooo whyy

oh no. noo. different no. :((( no. Please, Harry. Keep your eyes off 'the ball' and ahhh—hey, there's that scene that wasn't in the VHS version.

Harry?? This is like 20% of the reason you wear a mask, dude!

whiiiplaaash oh my goodness ahh poor Mary Jane.

:((( see this is the kind of quality anguish you can get when you don't just discriminately kidnap, other supervillains take note

pete. pete. pe ter par ker. "I'm breaking up with you" is not. in fact. a good segue to "Let's get married"

Took them three movies but they finally made acting plot relevant. It's not! that hard!

AND THEN. YOU GO BACK TO PETER. AND PRETEND TO BE HIS AMNESIAC BEST FRIEND oh my goodness and then you use her omitive lie about the shoW AND THEN WE GO FULL SM1

“but. but she broke up with *you*, because she was in love with *me*. !!”

what. Why are. you winking?

Bright green coffee sign!

nooo. emotional anguish---->TERRIBLE LIFE CHOICES

Right, Harry, overall—because I mean high marks for ingenuity and not-kidnapping, but—you're really lacking on the follow through here, like for keeping up the act. And wow that is a lot alcohol in front of you.

Harry please notice the ominous black spidey suit. Please. Soon.

harry im not sure you've noticed but you have blades. on. ur arm.

Takes symbiote!Pete to point out the obvious: that Norman.didn't.deserve you.

Kinda funny how after all that the picture in question is not, in fact, of Peter actually doing anything wrong.

OH MY GOODNESS, IT'S PHOTOSHOPPED? IT'S not even actually symby-spidey?

Yeah, no, Ed. I can forgive a lot of things. But reposts with the watermarks edited out? Not that.

hahahah

Symby-Pete likes Ursula's food?   . . .ah

*hair flick*

water doesn't kill him forever. :o

OH MAN PETER NO.

symbiote-Pete spends money recklessly.

Oh man, Gwen is so nice.

...alien meteor ooze teaches you to play jazz piano? ...and dance?

blonde hair and the black headband and their clothes and his hair and her earrings... it's a Look.

GWEN STACY IS SO NICE! ("That was all for her? I'm so sorry.")

NO.

get. out.

geddoouutt

"Who are you?" "Well, Mary Jane, I reckon I'm the exact feeling of a church spire silhouetted against the storm clouds, as lightning crashes in the background."

okay so eddy, brocky, rock boy. don't pray to God to kill people. Don't... don't do that.

How. Exactly. Do you recognise the face of a guy you barely know, four floors up, while he's tearing an alien ooze suit off his skin.

oh no his hair's still black

Continuing adventures of That Awful Door.

I hope Aunt May knows he's Spider man, because otherwise there is just waaay too much backstory to explain here.

I think she also wants him to keep the ring so she doesn't have to wear it.

“Spiderman... didn't have those teeth last time... right?”

Maybe not? with the watching her through her window? Also considering last time your saw her in person you hit her maybe not do that first part in person, perhaps.

"On Broad-way."

...you also locked the normal one away? Or, no, that was earlier this night. You just were using the evil one, and stowed that away. ok. gotcha.

Harry! Harry, you could do. a good. ...oh no. peter don't come also what happened to his face??

:(((

OH MAN. BERNARD! i don't think this is gonna work. but. thank you. for. saying that. [it worked!:D]

what happened to your face do you still have superpowers if you're not healing.

It's the real spiderman! He stopped in front of an american flag for a sec!

this reporter overuses the word 'seemed'

Brick!

you're stiiilll fallling

Listen MJ most of the webbing is really strong, you can actually move along it and even if you fall through one level you've got a decent chance of catching the next.

this reporter is so alarmist. and that one.

Goblin bomb!

"I'm not here for you~"

Burn it & smash it! :D

That kid is awesome! ("Film's extra.")

or. you could. shoot web. and not. jump. And maybe get her down somehow? Ground level would be... safer... lotta floors, elevators proabably not working...

why did that work?

ohh. noise.

oh... kay...

[tragic backstories make everything better]

i f o r g i v e y o u .. ..

i like to think he becomes also a superhero. subtler. smaller. never quite noticed, but. bit by bit.

why in the world is gwen at harry's funeral

(mj you do in fact have a job. and. a song to finish singing. um. but anyway)

"Girl at the final battle" yes. Her. Excellent.

The credit songs this time are so... gentle...

(Balance of probabilities Harry died intestate but maybe he drew up a will at some point when he liked Peter and didn’t revoke it and then they can go help Marko’s daughter, perhaps? Maybe.)

[clarencebfaber]

How to Get to the Root Cause of Your Gut Problems

Root Cause of Gut Problems

 In order to know where you are going, you have to know where you are coming from…especially if you want to improve or change your health and body. You have to get to the root cause of your gut problems before you get the best treatment.

Enter: The Gut Timeline—pin-pointing and piecing together your own unique health history, lifestyle factors and experiences that have shaped your health to be where it is today, in order to understand what current underlying health issues, roadblocks or struggles may be standing in your way to getting where you want to be. 

Gut Timeline Example

For example: Take Vicky* (*name has been changed).

[stock photo]

Vicky came to me wanting to shed some body fat, increase her energy, banish her bloating and lose about 10 pounds of unwanted weight gain that she couldn’t seem to lose (no matter what she tried). 

“I don’t get it! I’ve tried Paleo, Keto, Intermittent Fasting…but no matter what I do, my weight won’t budge!”

To say the least, Vicky’s body was stressed—real stressed! It wasn’t until we pieced together her own unique health history and Gut Timeline that she began to understand that there was MORE to the story than the amount of carbs she ate (or didn’t eat).

Vicky’s history of chronic dieting and overtraining (i.e. stressing out her body), coupled with living in a moldy apartment 5 years ago, plus history of birth control use, SSRI drugs, drinking artificially sweetened protein shakes, typical 6-hours of sleep each night and stressful job as an ICU floor nurse ALL were reasons WHY her body was seemingly “working against her.”

Working with me, I was also able to help Vicky LOOK DEEPER beyond her frustration with the scale into the REAL health issues holding her back, which included:

HPA-Axis Dysfunction (i.e. “adrenal fatigue”)

SIBO (small intestinal bacterial overgrowth)

Hyperglycemia (blood sugar imbalances)

I created a nutrition, supplement and lifestyle-change plan to help Vicky address the stressors wreaking havoc on her health, and long story short, in a matter of 3 months, Vicky had MORE energy, less bloating, MORE body love and she dropped 8 pounds.

Win. Win. Win. Win!

Moral of the story: When we address the underlying causes of health imbalances and UNDERSTAND the root causes of where our imbalances come from. 

Stress Stinks

Stress is the #1 driver of ALL DISEASE and is the #1 reason WHY any of us feel stuck in a health rut, or stuck in our own skin (myself included).

Use this simple exercise of creating your own Gut Timeline to PINPOINT the exact stressors and experiences in your life that have shaped your current state of health and body where you are today.

Stress goes FAR beyond mental stress alone too!

Some of the TOP stressors (from your personal Gut Timeline) that may influence your health and current state of not feeling 100% today include:

Physical & Lifestyle Stressors

Blue light screen exposure (long times on screens)

Light at night time

Less than 7 hours of sleep most nights

Overtraining

Sedentary lifestyle

Imbalanced exercise (i.e. doing HIIT or chronic cardio all the time without mixing it up)

Exposure to chemicals in beauty, cleaning and hygiene products

Plastic Tupperware/container use and other environmental toxins

Mold exposure

Lack of outdoor/nature and fresh air

Endlessly Google searching answers to your health questions

NSAID use (headaches, etc.)

Oral birth-control

Long term prescription medication use

Disconnection from community/meaningful relationships

High coffee/caffeine consumption (more than 1 cup quality coffee/day)

Disrupted circadian rhythms for sleeping, eating, working and resting patterns

Artificial sweeteners (most commercial stevia included)

Eating packaged, refined or processed foods

Low water intake (less than half your bodyweight in ounces)

Tap water (not filtered)

High alcohol consumption or smoking

Frequent eating out (more than preparing/handling your food)

Stress over food/diet

Under-eating

Low fiber (Fermentable prebiotic fiber foods)

Lack of quality protein (amino acids for your brain)

Conventional meat and dairy consumption

Grains and “gluten free” processed products (with gluten-cross contaminants) 

Binging/Purging and disordered eating habits

Jet lag

Foreign travel

Shift work

Pain (joint, musculoskeletal)

Infectious/bacterial disease

Gut inflammation & Underlying gut conditions (SIBO, parasites, etc.)

Mental Stressors 

Type A personality—and difficulty listening to your body over your schedule

Relationship stress

Financial stress/pressures

Lack of control

Burnout

Not talking about your stress (bottling it up)

Lack of play/fun

Not doing things you love

Serotonin suppression (“feel good” brain chemicals)

Social Media comparison/endless scrolling

Trying to be all things to all people/people pleasing

FOMO (lack of downtime for yourself)

Burning a candle at both ends

News binging 

Any of these sound familiar?!

Although stress is inevitable in life, it is when we have LOTS of stressors accumulate (without managing them) that our gut health and other parts of our health take a hit. Thinking about how you feel TODAY in your own skin, think about what lifestyle and lifetime stressful triggers may have played a role. 

HOW TO CREATE YOUR GUT TIMELINE

When we talk about gut problems, healing the gut and improving your gut health, many people instantly jump to asking about what lab tests to run and what supplements to take. 

However, first and foremost, nothing replaces your own (gut) intuition, and we must FIRST understand what stressors have wreaked havoc on our health in our past and present in order to fully heal. 

Action Step

Create a “Gut Health” Timeline for yourself with the top 10-15 events, memories and/or stressors you have in your own general health journey that may have shaped how you feel today.

Some examples you may find yourself including could be: 

Being a C-section & formula-fed baby (processed foods early)

The first time you remember having gut issue (like having to run out of your 1st grade classroom to use the bathroom or letting one “rip” during reading circle and everyone laughing)

Taking several rounds of antibiotics for strep throat, ear infections, allergies and everything in between

Growing up on Lunchables, Goldfish crackers and Hamburger Helper

The chronic acne breakouts you had as a teen or young adult, and the birth control pills you took to “cure” them

Trying out a specific diet plan that felt good…at first. But then left you constipated or bloated all the time 

Four years of chronic constipation during college—living off Lean Cuisines, energy drinks and protein bars

A shoulder surgery or car wreck injury, along with the pain meds you had to take which killed off gut bacteria

Your trip to Thailand and coming back with a tummy that didn’t feel “right”

Working the nightshift as an ER nurse for 2 years with poor sleep habits and high coffee intake

That time you got mono or anemia

List any of the top 10-15 events, lifestyle factors or indicators you can point to as “stressors” and triggering events to your own gut and health dysfunction. 

This log will help you piece together some of the top stressors in your current lifestyle and history which may have contributed to your health, as well as understand any current stressors continuing to drive your symptoms.

SUMMING IT UP

In my own health journey, I know that IF I want to add some healthy weight to my body, improve my gut health and reverse my metabolic dysfunction, I MUST FIRST UNDERSTAND how my health got here in the first place.

The same thing goes for you. In order to know where you’re going, you must know where you’re coming from.  I’ll teach you more about what to do with this information as we go along. I have a solution for your gut problems.

The post How to Get to the Root Cause of Your Gut Problems appeared first on Meet Dr. Lauryn.

Source/Repost=> https://drlauryn.com/gut-health/how-to-get-to-the-root-cause-of-your-gut-problems/ ** Dr. Lauryn Lax __Nutrition. Therapy. Functional Medicine ** https://drlauryn.com/

How to Get to the Root Cause of Your Gut Problems via https://drlaurynlax.weebly.com/

[brian-cdates]

How to Get to the Root Cause of Your Gut Problems

Root Cause of Gut Problems

In order to know where you are going, you have to know where you are coming from…especially if you want to improve or change your health and body. You have to get to the root cause of your gut problems before you get the best treatment.

Enter: The Gut Timeline—pin-pointing and piecing together your own unique health history, lifestyle factors and experiences that have shaped your health to be where it is today, in order to understand what current underlying health issues, roadblocks or struggles may be standing in your way to getting where you want to be. 

Gut Timeline Example

For example: Take Vicky* (*name has been changed).

[stock photo]

Vicky came to me wanting to shed some body fat, increase her energy, banish her bloating and lose about 10 pounds of unwanted weight gain that she couldn’t seem to lose (no matter what she tried). 

“I don’t get it! I’ve tried Paleo, Keto, Intermittent Fasting…but no matter what I do, my weight won’t budge!”

To say the least, Vicky’s body was stressed—real stressed! It wasn’t until we pieced together her own unique health history and Gut Timeline that she began to understand that there was MORE to the story than the amount of carbs she ate (or didn’t eat).

Vicky’s history of chronic dieting and overtraining (i.e. stressing out her body), coupled with living in a moldy apartment 5 years ago, plus history of birth control use, SSRI drugs, drinking artificially sweetened protein shakes, typical 6-hours of sleep each night and stressful job as an ICU floor nurse ALL were reasons WHY her body was seemingly “working against her.”

Working with me, I was also able to help Vicky LOOK DEEPER beyond her frustration with the scale into the REAL health issues holding her back, which included:

HPA-Axis Dysfunction (i.e. “adrenal fatigue”)

SIBO (small intestinal bacterial overgrowth)

Hyperglycemia (blood sugar imbalances)

I created a nutrition, supplement and lifestyle-change plan to help Vicky address the stressors wreaking havoc on her health, and long story short, in a matter of 3 months, Vicky had MORE energy, less bloating, MORE body love and she dropped 8 pounds.

Win. Win. Win. Win!

Moral of the story: When we address the underlying causes of health imbalances and UNDERSTAND the root causes of where our imbalances come from. 

Stress Stinks

Stress is the #1 driver of ALL DISEASE and is the #1 reason WHY any of us feel stuck in a health rut, or stuck in our own skin (myself included).

Use this simple exercise of creating your own Gut Timeline to PINPOINT the exact stressors and experiences in your life that have shaped your current state of health and body where you are today.

Stress goes FAR beyond mental stress alone too!

Some of the TOP stressors (from your personal Gut Timeline) that may influence your health and current state of not feeling 100% today include:

Physical & Lifestyle Stressors

Blue light screen exposure (long times on screens)

Light at night time

Less than 7 hours of sleep most nights

Overtraining

Sedentary lifestyle

Imbalanced exercise (i.e. doing HIIT or chronic cardio all the time without mixing it up)

Exposure to chemicals in beauty, cleaning and hygiene products

Plastic Tupperware/container use and other environmental toxins

Mold exposure

Lack of outdoor/nature and fresh air

Endlessly Google searching answers to your health questions

NSAID use (headaches, etc.)

Oral birth-control

Long term prescription medication use

Disconnection from community/meaningful relationships

High coffee/caffeine consumption (more than 1 cup quality coffee/day)

Disrupted circadian rhythms for sleeping, eating, working and resting patterns

Artificial sweeteners (most commercial stevia included)

Eating packaged, refined or processed foods

Low water intake (less than half your bodyweight in ounces)

Tap water (not filtered)

High alcohol consumption or smoking

Frequent eating out (more than preparing/handling your food)

Stress over food/diet

Under-eating

Low fiber (Fermentable prebiotic fiber foods)

Lack of quality protein (amino acids for your brain)

Conventional meat and dairy consumption

Grains and “gluten free” processed products (with gluten-cross contaminants) 

Binging/Purging and disordered eating habits

Jet lag

Foreign travel

Shift work

Pain (joint, musculoskeletal)

Infectious/bacterial disease

Gut inflammation & Underlying gut conditions (SIBO, parasites, etc.)

Mental Stressors 

Type A personality—and difficulty listening to your body over your schedule

Relationship stress

Financial stress/pressures

Lack of control

Burnout

Not talking about your stress (bottling it up)

Lack of play/fun

Not doing things you love

Serotonin suppression (“feel good” brain chemicals)

Social Media comparison/endless scrolling

Trying to be all things to all people/people pleasing

FOMO (lack of downtime for yourself)

Burning a candle at both ends

News binging 

Any of these sound familiar?!

Although stress is inevitable in life, it is when we have LOTS of stressors accumulate (without managing them) that our gut health and other parts of our health take a hit. Thinking about how you feel TODAY in your own skin, think about what lifestyle and lifetime stressful triggers may have played a role. 

HOW TO CREATE YOUR GUT TIMELINE

When we talk about gut problems, healing the gut and improving your gut health, many people instantly jump to asking about what lab tests to run and what supplements to take. 

However, first and foremost, nothing replaces your own (gut) intuition, and we must FIRST understand what stressors have wreaked havoc on our health in our past and present in order to fully heal. 

Action Step

Create a “Gut Health” Timeline for yourself with the top 10-15 events, memories and/or stressors you have in your own general health journey that may have shaped how you feel today.

Some examples you may find yourself including could be: 

Being a C-section & formula-fed baby (processed foods early)

The first time you remember having gut issue (like having to run out of your 1st grade classroom to use the bathroom or letting one “rip” during reading circle and everyone laughing)

Taking several rounds of antibiotics for strep throat, ear infections, allergies and everything in between

Growing up on Lunchables, Goldfish crackers and Hamburger Helper

The chronic acne breakouts you had as a teen or young adult, and the birth control pills you took to “cure” them

Trying out a specific diet plan that felt good…at first. But then left you constipated or bloated all the time 

Four years of chronic constipation during college—living off Lean Cuisines, energy drinks and protein bars

A shoulder surgery or car wreck injury, along with the pain meds you had to take which killed off gut bacteria

Your trip to Thailand and coming back with a tummy that didn’t feel “right”

Working the nightshift as an ER nurse for 2 years with poor sleep habits and high coffee intake

That time you got mono or anemia

List any of the top 10-15 events, lifestyle factors or indicators you can point to as “stressors” and triggering events to your own gut and health dysfunction. 

This log will help you piece together some of the top stressors in your current lifestyle and history which may have contributed to your health, as well as understand any current stressors continuing to drive your symptoms.

SUMMING IT UP

In my own health journey, I know that IF I want to add some healthy weight to my body, improve my gut health and reverse my metabolic dysfunction, I MUST FIRST UNDERSTAND how my health got here in the first place.

The same thing goes for you. In order to know where you’re going, you must know where you’re coming from.  I’ll teach you more about what to do with this information as we go along. I have a solution for your gut problems.

The post How to Get to the Root Cause of Your Gut Problems appeared first on Meet Dr. Lauryn.

Source/Repost=> https://drlauryn.com/gut-health/how-to-get-to-the-root-cause-of-your-gut-problems/ ** Dr. Lauryn Lax __Nutrition. Therapy. Functional Medicine ** https://drlauryn.com/ How to Get to the Root Cause of Your Gut Problems via http://drlaurynlax.tumblr.com/

[drlaurynlax]

How to Get to the Root Cause of Your Gut Problems

Root Cause of Gut Problems

  In order to know where you are going, you have to know where you are coming from…especially if you want to improve or change your health and body. You have to get to the root cause of your gut problems before you get the best treatment.

Enter: The Gut Timeline—pin-pointing and piecing together your own unique health history, lifestyle factors and experiences that have shaped your health to be where it is today, in order to understand what current underlying health issues, roadblocks or struggles may be standing in your way to getting where you want to be. 

Gut Timeline Example

For example: Take Vicky* (*name has been changed).

[stock photo]

Vicky came to me wanting to shed some body fat, increase her energy, banish her bloating and lose about 10 pounds of unwanted weight gain that she couldn’t seem to lose (no matter what she tried). 

“I don’t get it! I’ve tried Paleo, Keto, Intermittent Fasting…but no matter what I do, my weight won’t budge!”

To say the least, Vicky’s body was stressed—real stressed! It wasn’t until we pieced together her own unique health history and Gut Timeline that she began to understand that there was MORE to the story than the amount of carbs she ate (or didn’t eat).

Vicky’s history of chronic dieting and overtraining (i.e. stressing out her body), coupled with living in a moldy apartment 5 years ago, plus history of birth control use, SSRI drugs, drinking artificially sweetened protein shakes, typical 6-hours of sleep each night and stressful job as an ICU floor nurse ALL were reasons WHY her body was seemingly “working against her.”

Working with me, I was also able to help Vicky LOOK DEEPER beyond her frustration with the scale into the REAL health issues holding her back, which included:

HPA-Axis Dysfunction (i.e. “adrenal fatigue”)

SIBO (small intestinal bacterial overgrowth)

Hyperglycemia (blood sugar imbalances)

I created a nutrition, supplement and lifestyle-change plan to help Vicky address the stressors wreaking havoc on her health, and long story short, in a matter of 3 months, Vicky had MORE energy, less bloating, MORE body love and she dropped 8 pounds.

Win. Win. Win. Win!

Moral of the story: When we address the underlying causes of health imbalances and UNDERSTAND the root causes of where our imbalances come from. 

Stress Stinks

Stress is the #1 driver of ALL DISEASE and is the #1 reason WHY any of us feel stuck in a health rut, or stuck in our own skin (myself included).

Use this simple exercise of creating your own Gut Timeline to PINPOINT the exact stressors and experiences in your life that have shaped your current state of health and body where you are today.

Stress goes FAR beyond mental stress alone too!

Some of the TOP stressors (from your personal Gut Timeline) that may influence your health and current state of not feeling 100% today include:

Physical & Lifestyle Stressors

Blue light screen exposure (long times on screens)

Light at night time

Less than 7 hours of sleep most nights

Overtraining

Sedentary lifestyle

Imbalanced exercise (i.e. doing HIIT or chronic cardio all the time without mixing it up)

Exposure to chemicals in beauty, cleaning and hygiene products

Plastic Tupperware/container use and other environmental toxins

Mold exposure

Lack of outdoor/nature and fresh air

Endlessly Google searching answers to your health questions

NSAID use (headaches, etc.)

Oral birth-control

Long term prescription medication use

Disconnection from community/meaningful relationships

High coffee/caffeine consumption (more than 1 cup quality coffee/day)

Disrupted circadian rhythms for sleeping, eating, working and resting patterns

Artificial sweeteners (most commercial stevia included)

Eating packaged, refined or processed foods

Low water intake (less than half your bodyweight in ounces)

Tap water (not filtered)

High alcohol consumption or smoking

Frequent eating out (more than preparing/handling your food)

Stress over food/diet

Under-eating

Low fiber (Fermentable prebiotic fiber foods)

Lack of quality protein (amino acids for your brain)

Conventional meat and dairy consumption

Grains and “gluten free” processed products (with gluten-cross contaminants) 

Binging/Purging and disordered eating habits

Jet lag

Foreign travel

Shift work

Pain (joint, musculoskeletal)

Infectious/bacterial disease

Gut inflammation & Underlying gut conditions (SIBO, parasites, etc.)

Mental Stressors 

Type A personality—and difficulty listening to your body over your schedule

Relationship stress

Financial stress/pressures

Lack of control

Burnout

Not talking about your stress (bottling it up)

Lack of play/fun

Not doing things you love

Serotonin suppression (“feel good” brain chemicals)

Social Media comparison/endless scrolling

Trying to be all things to all people/people pleasing

FOMO (lack of downtime for yourself)

Burning a candle at both ends

News binging 

Any of these sound familiar?!

Although stress is inevitable in life, it is when we have LOTS of stressors accumulate (without managing them) that our gut health and other parts of our health take a hit. Thinking about how you feel TODAY in your own skin, think about what lifestyle and lifetime stressful triggers may have played a role. 

HOW TO CREATE YOUR GUT TIMELINE

When we talk about gut problems, healing the gut and improving your gut health, many people instantly jump to asking about what lab tests to run and what supplements to take. 

However, first and foremost, nothing replaces your own (gut) intuition, and we must FIRST understand what stressors have wreaked havoc on our health in our past and present in order to fully heal. 

Action Step

Create a “Gut Health” Timeline for yourself with the top 10-15 events, memories and/or stressors you have in your own general health journey that may have shaped how you feel today.

Some examples you may find yourself including could be: 

Being a C-section & formula-fed baby (processed foods early)

The first time you remember having gut issue (like having to run out of your 1st grade classroom to use the bathroom or letting one “rip” during reading circle and everyone laughing)

Taking several rounds of antibiotics for strep throat, ear infections, allergies and everything in between

Growing up on Lunchables, Goldfish crackers and Hamburger Helper

The chronic acne breakouts you had as a teen or young adult, and the birth control pills you took to “cure” them

Trying out a specific diet plan that felt good…at first. But then left you constipated or bloated all the time 

Four years of chronic constipation during college—living off Lean Cuisines, energy drinks and protein bars

A shoulder surgery or car wreck injury, along with the pain meds you had to take which killed off gut bacteria

Your trip to Thailand and coming back with a tummy that didn’t feel “right”

Working the nightshift as an ER nurse for 2 years with poor sleep habits and high coffee intake

That time you got mono or anemia

List any of the top 10-15 events, lifestyle factors or indicators you can point to as “stressors” and triggering events to your own gut and health dysfunction. 

This log will help you piece together some of the top stressors in your current lifestyle and history which may have contributed to your health, as well as understand any current stressors continuing to drive your symptoms.

SUMMING IT UP

In my own health journey, I know that IF I want to add some healthy weight to my body, improve my gut health and reverse my metabolic dysfunction, I MUST FIRST UNDERSTAND how my health got here in the first place.

The same thing goes for you. In order to know where you’re going, you must know where you’re coming from.  I’ll teach you more about what to do with this information as we go along. I have a solution for your gut problems.

The post How to Get to the Root Cause of Your Gut Problems appeared first on Meet Dr. Lauryn.

Source/Repost=> https://drlauryn.com/gut-health/how-to-get-to-the-root-cause-of-your-gut-problems/ ** Dr. Lauryn Lax __Nutrition. Therapy. Functional Medicine ** https://drlauryn.com/

[incaseofsurvival]

That Fat baby is my big sister; Lady with the legs is our mum. (I wasn’t alive when this picture was taken.)

I was always a “tender headed” child. That is, I cried when I got my hair combed.

I don’t remember when my mother[1. My mom is awesome and I love her to pieces and wouldn’t trade her for anything or anyone. She’s super nice and when the car dealer tried to screw me I called her to straighten them out– and she did. She’s wonderful and inspiring and shit at doing hair. She gets her’s done at a salon(not black) every weekend.] started relaxing my hair. I remember that it was probably, in part at least, my fault. At least once a week, getting my hair combed was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. It was exhausting for our whole family.

I’m the little one with “spiked bangs” (I liked to pretend it was a choice…)

My father would pace from one room to another like he really needed to visit the kitchen seven times in the 90 hours it took my mother to braid my hair so I looked like a little brown unicorn (three braids were the worst, but the woman only had so much patience).

“Maybe you could just let her rest for a bit?” my father suggested on the way back from pretending to need stuff in the kitchen again.

My hysterical sobbing ebbed a bit as I baited my breath hoping my mother (or some compassionate ghost that had recently taken her over) would shrug and let me run off to lick my wounds. And then maybe she’d forget and it would be over!? Muhahaha!

Sike! If looks could kill… My dad was finished with his rubbernecking and attempted intervention and my sobbing picked up again[2. From the pictures, it seems like my Dad isn’t around or we’re not cool anymore (I feel like because of black people stereotypes I need to say this). My dad is still around and I love him to pieces and take him to see sci-fi movies when I miss him and he and my mother are still happily married, living in the suburbs.].

One day this ritual ended and we moved on to boxes of relaxer.

I wasn’t happier but at least in-between treatments I could comb my own hair. Small victories, FTW!

The kit, like similar hair dye kits, came with chemicals that are to be kept separated until there is science to do. It also came with gloves and all the instructions in the world in tiny fine print. I don’t think my mother ever really read the instructions. Instead she, like many people, read the pictures.

Mix the stuff, base the scalp with Vaseline, part the hair, work quickly, rinse thoroughly.

Inevitably, some of these steps were skipped intentionally or accidentally. My mother kept her nails long so the whole basing the scalp thing was always a fight.

“It’s going to burn me.”

“Not if we do it fast. Sit.”

“You get gloves; I should get some protection too.”

After years of chemical burns and back and forth, I started basing my own damned scalp. And I was so thorough. I did my ears and baby hairs and the back of my neck. In all, each time I used about half a container of Vaseline. I wasn’t fucking with these burns anymore.

Eventually, I started going to the hairdresser to get my hair relaxed and DID.

I’m pretty sure this little number took a year. I asked for cornrows and the hairdresser was too lazy to do them and chose to do twists instead.

People who aren’t Black Women might not know this but Black hair salons are the worst version of a business ever. There’s that joke about CPT (Colored People Time)… It’s not funny when going to get your hair done is a six-hour affair. I’m not even kind of exaggerating.

Six hours. And it’s not because of elaborate styling or super delicate processes that require careful time management. No, it’s because of Fuck you, pay me.

There’s genuinely no good reason EVERY black hair salon I’ve ever been to has been a vicious time suck. It just is what it is.

Maybe the women doing hair needed to stop doing hair (all of the women at this salon) mid-way through processes and order then eat some food (true story). Maybe they misjudged how long it would take to do the client(s) before me and are now running behind by 2 hours (true story). Maybe the stylist is on the phone with her ex and has been for ages and will get you me when she gets to me (true story).

From the rundown nature of every black salon I’ve been to—I don’t WANT to be sitting in a broken chair reading VIBE from 3 years ago in a rented space in a project building (true story)— to the rundown nature of too many stylists I’ve encountered, I gave up on Black salons late in high school.

In high school, I decided to start relaxing my hair myself.

How hard could it be? If I was unsure, I just erred on the side of caution and might not have had bone straight roots. Whatever.After a while, I got more comfortable with blow dryer-free wash and go styling. I went longer and longer between touch-ups until I stopped doing them altogether.

Freshman year of college I grabbed my hair at the roots and felt where the unrelaxed, natural hair ended and the relaxed hair started—this was my line of demarcation.

I started cutting in the front and didn’t want to live with a mullet so kept cutting until it was all gone.

I didn’t look too bad with super short, natural hair. Sure, my makeup was always on point and I never went out without earrings but compensations aside, I looked good.

My mother saw me over winter break and disagreed. She grabbed my hair (Damn it, there was just enough for her to grab a fistful) and exclaimed, “What have you done!?”

“Mum, we’re in the middle of the food court and it’s gone so if you could just let it and my hair go…”

She sucked her teeth and I thanked God we were in public meeting my cousin’s small children for the first time. “Can I touch your hair!”

“Sure.”

“It’s soft!” (children are always shouting to me.)

My dad loved it. He’s 100% for natural hair. Maybe from the experiences of his youth or mine… Either way, he was for The Big Chop.

Years later, out of college and into the workforce I got lazy.

Natural hair is hard work. My hair is thick and my arms are weak.

I research different kinds of relaxers, though I’m not totally sure what I was looking for. Maybe the most gentle or the most effective or the least chemically.

I used a kid’s relaxer kit and based my scalp generously.

As an adult, I got pretty good at doing my own hair. I was quick and efficient and cared the most about my scalp and ear health. I only did the relaxer lightly to just weaken the curl, not kill it completely.

I could blow my hair out if I wanted or I could keep it looking a little natural. The best of both worlds.

One Saturday afternoon I’m in the bathroom happily parting the hair and applying cream when a cluster of hair swings from its group on top of my head right into my face. Not just my face but my wide open eye.

“FUCK!”

“What’s wrong with you?” my Chinese-Italian (Asian&White) fiancé shouts from the other room not quite sure if this is worth pausing his game for.

As I scramble to remove the gloves and get to the kitchen sink where I can safely rinse my eye, I ask him to read the paper that came in the relaxer kit to see if there’s anything else I need to do. Eye drops? Ointment? Counter agent?

“It says to wash your eye thoroughly with water.”

“Okay good. Thank you.”

My expectation was that he’d put the paper down, pat himself on the back and go back to his computer.

Nope.

As I’m getting in the shower he says, “You actually put this on your body?”

“No… Just my hair and just at the roots.”

“It says to put in on your hair but not your scalp. How do you put something on your hair but not your scalp?”

“Um, you’re careful? I mean if it gets on you scalp for too long you get chemical burns.”

“You just got it in your eye!”

“So you don’t think we should relax our kids’ hair?” I asked with a chuckle.

Genuine horror. “People put this shit  on children?”

Hm.

At the rehearsal dinner for our wedding, one of my aunts asked me what I was going to “do about my hair”

Initial visceral reactions and presumptuous defensiveness of blackness and MY choices quelled, I said, “Probably stick some flowers in it.”

And I did.

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At my wedding with Unati and flowers in my hair!

Super Growth Hair Story! I was always a "tender headed" child. That is, I cried when I got my hair combed.