#st judes mental hospital

[dust-of-embers]

PHOTOS OF ST JUDES (Gartloch hospital)

I am too tired for commentary… a lot of it is still under construction tho

[dust-of-embers]

IT HAS BEEN FURBISHED, IDK HOW TO MAKE IT PUBLIC JUST YET SO I'LL PUT THE LINK HERE: https://discord.gg/ys5b8sK5

I'LL WORK OUT HOW TO MAKE IT PUBLIC TOMORROW, MY BODY IS GOING LIMP AND IDK WHY

@princeloww @crowleys-dark-sunglasses @dil3mma @melted-bone-tea @jaykinarts you all said you'd like to join, so i'm @ing you just in case

We need a tota group chat where we all just talk about tota and rave about it together, I kinda wanna make one but idk if anyone would actually want to do that

[valiantverses]

Tremors

Ghoap X Reader

Summary: A therapist's waiting room wasn't exactly the place to have the most engrossing conversations. People were usually jittery, tense, or straight-up despondent. Somehow, you manage to strike a strange sort of connection with the retired military couple that had the Thursday slot just after you anyway.

Trigger Warning: Angsty. Discussions of Soap's injuries, the reader has mental health struggles and everyone has communication difficulties to some degree.

A/N: Comments, questions, requests and constructive criticisms are welcome. Hate is boring and will go unacknowledged.

_

Maybe therapy wasn't for you.

Baring your soul to a total stranger and unearthing your life to be scrutinised by somebody. Then having that somebody turn around and drop you as a client because you were 'beyond their scope' and recommending you to someone else. It left an acrid sort of burn at the back of your throat as you settled into the sofa in the cheery waiting room of your hastily found counsellor.

Tick.

The leather underneath your fingers was squeaky. Static-y. The kind of leather where the grooves of the well-worn parts of the couch were buttery smooth and a slightly darker shade of black until it reached the bits that weren't quite as worn.

Tock.

The sound of papers shuffling and a low voice calling out a name drew your attention. It wasn't yours. Wordlessly, you watched a woman to your left stand up. The rubber of her cane cracked across the linoleum as she she signed her name on to the clip board at the desk, murmured her greetings to the therapist and made her way inside, the door shutting with a soft click.

Tick.

St. Jude-Thaddeus Hospital's Rehabilitation and Pain Management Clinic had the honour of being the only facility of any sort in your area that offered psycotherapy services. Affordable ones, anyway. Something to do with being integrated into the Ministry of Defense Hospital Units for disabled veterans- but you didn't need to know, so you didn't ask.

You'd take what you could get.

Tock.

You glance up at the clock once more, seeing that you were now close to 10 minutes to your first ever appointment with this therapist. A part of you wanted to fast forward the next 40 minutes of your day. Maybe the next few hours. Get to the point where your obligations were done and the first meeting was over and done with.

Tick.

When the door opens next, you don't look up this time. You try to contain the shake of your hands and focus on that squeaky leather underneath you. The thumps of footsteps don't register before the slight sink of the couch does. When you glance up, it is to the bluest eyes you could imagine.

He was handsome, a part of your brain helpfully informed you. Dark eyelashes framing a sort of azure blue, shards of indigo flecked about like sleet in the rain. His tanned skin had that slight leatheriness that could only come from working under the sun, the hand jutted out towards you littered with callouses-

"-hnny MacTavish, haven't seen you round here before."

Your hand moves mechanically to accept his handshake, mouth producing syllables you knew was supposed to be your name.

Realising the beat of conversation had stretched on longer than it should and it was now your turn to fulfill your part of the social contract that the stranger had looped you into, you broke eye contact and glanced back down at the worn linoleum.

"It's my first time."

There was a snort to the other side of you, from a bulky man sat diagonally from the line of chairs you and Johnny were sat in.

You quickly ammend your statement "-with this therapist. Just moved in."

His bulk seemed to carve away the space of the room, hulking shoulders leading to a thickly corded neck, lower face covered in a black face mask and his eyes a thin ring of deep ocean blue. What little skin you could see of his face looked sallow. Drained.

"Ignore tha' git. Insists on tagging along with me like I'm a wee wain and wreaks havoc of all sorts." The voice from your left supplied as you quickly began reassessing the relationship between the two strangers you found yourself in the middle of.

"You two know each other?"

There was a rumble to your left, a deep bass-y sound you realised was laughter. "Could say that, ma'am. "

"My partner," Johnny supplied, eyeroll evident in his voice as you turned to look at him once more. It was a little overwhelming having to keep turning your head to and fro because of the way the chairs were positioned, and your fingers dug into the leather once more.

Slippery, smooth. Pebbled with some long indentations.

"That's Simon. We've been at this shrink for give or take four months now-"

"Fifteen weeks."

"*-would'a noticed a bonnie lass like you on our weekly, enlightening visits." His quip was cheery, but there was an element of sarcasm you couldn't quite place.

This conversation felt like navigating a field full of landmines. Couldn't ask about his condition, why the weekly visits rather than the gold standard (That is, the national healthcare coverage) of every two weeks, why fifteen weeks- so you asked the only thing you felt you could.

"She any good? The counselor, I mean."

Johnny blinked, head tilting and making eye contact with his partner - Simon - there was a flash of something twisting across his face as the wordless conversation happened in a split second.

It was fascinating. The sort of communication that only happened when two people had an intimate well of knowledge of the other person.

Then dawn broke across Johnny's face and he turned back to you with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Aye, lass. Not afraid to crack into your brain and really dig around. Well good laugh too, great to interact with given I've really only spoken to four people or so since I retired an' all."

You tried not to read between the lines. Tried not to stare at the way he leaned back to rub at the jagged line across his scalp, the puckered edges evident under the peach fuzz of dark hair. He was giving you what he could without dragging a stranger into his own vortex of struggles. You could relate.

"Retired? From military service?"

Regret looked different on people's faces. For some, there was a grimace. Maybe a slight widening of the eyes in realisation, or a hitch in their breath. Self-reproach for bringing it up in the first place. For Johnny, it appeared to be a slight furrowing of his brows and a darkening of his sky blue eyes as he edged backwards.

A cough and the scraping of the chair behind you drew your attention, looking to your right to meet the cold stare of the blond. Briefly, you felt like a cornered animal. Your hands grew still. His gaze was assessing, stony face giving nothing away except the overwhelming vibe of back the fuck off. His eyes flicked over your shoulder and then back to yours.

"Sounds like they're finishing up in there. You should sign in."

It appeared you had clambered out of the field of land mines only to immediately fall into a sinkhole.

Stuttering your goodbyes, you make to stand up, making the same trek the young lady had towards the desk. You fought to control the tremors of your hands. One stayed tucked deeply in a pocket as the other wrote your name down through sheer muscle memory. Sure enough, the door opened and the woman walked out with her mobility aid, a cheery voice calling out your name from inside.

As your shaky palm took hold of the doorknob to twist it so you could enter the room, you caught snippets of the conversation happening behind you.

"Bothering you-"

"-Ost, It would have been fine-"

"Your hands were shaking again-"

"Ach- I had it under control!"

"You don't owe strangers anything. Not after everything you've-"

"Please- I just- I need to have a feckin' conversation about it without breaking down-"

The door shut with a click.

As you sat down in front of your new therapist, you resolved to try and move your appointments to a different day.

[princeloww]

st judes mental hospital (gartloch hospital, glasgow, 1896-1996)

some photos of where takin over the asylum was filmed :) the documentary is up on my youtube channel still if anyone's interested in learning more about it. and you can read some personal stories from people involved with the hospital (nurses and patients, ranging from very positive to very negative) on the hidden glasgow webite (where I got most of my info and the timeline when I made my first post about the hospital).

[bunmurdock]

writing for good ⊹₊⟡

@bunmurdock here 👋

i've always wanted to do something good with my writing. sometimes it feels impractical—fanfic doesn’t exactly save lives. but it can move people, make them feel seen, and maybe even inspire personal change. and lately, i’ve been thinking a lot about how to give back in a more tangible way.

so, i set up a ko-fi where every donation will go straight to charity. and to make it count even more, i'll be matching every dollar 400%—so for every $1 you give, $5 goes to charity.

if you like my writing or just want to give me a little push to create more, please consider donating. i’ll share donation receipts at the end of this calendar year (2025) so you can see exactly where the money goes. thanks for reading, and thanks for being here!

💖 donate here: ko-fi ���� boosts appreciated!

where the money’s going: these causes are personally researched by me and close to my heart, focusing on high-impact, life-saving interventions; child well-being & education; and mental health & specialized care.

against malaria foundation: provides bed nets to prevent malaria deaths.

helen keller intl: delivers vitamin a supplements to prevent blindness and child mortality.

new incentives: helps parents in nigeria get their kids vaccinated by offering small cash incentives.

feeding america: funds school meal programs to fight child hunger in the u.s.

save the children: provides emergency food, healthcare, and education in conflict zones.

the trevor project: suicide prevention and mental health support for lgbtq+ youth.

st. jude children’s research hospital: covers the cost of care for kids with life-threatening illnesses.

[sabertoothdeer]

I don't usually rant about my interests on this blog but i desperately need to talk with people about Takin' Over The Asylum. Please, fans of this show, I need to speak with you. I need to talk about Francine and Rosalie and Fergus and Eddie and Campbell. I need to talk about mental health throughout history. I need to talk about Hospital Radio St. Jude's and the Loonies PLEASE

[girlactionfigure]

Back in the 50s, Danny Thomas was a major TV star who had a successful comedy series on national television (CBS) called ‘Make Room for Daddy’ (Later changed to ‘The Danny Thomas Show’). The son of Maronite immigrants from Lebanon, read that a young medical student, the son of Chassidic immigrants from Ukraine, was struggling to pay his tuition, and donated the shortfall. As a result, countless lives were saved and made better by Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski.

Rabbi Twerski described the story in an interview with the Pittsburgh Quarterly on November 19, 2007:

“By that time, I had several children, so my dad and some members of the congregation helped me to pay for school. I applied for a scholarship through a foundation, but it didn’t come through, so in my third year, I fell two trimesters behind on tuition.

One day, I called my wife at lunch as always, and she asked, “What would you do if you had $4,000?” I said, “I’m too busy to talk about fantasies.” She said, “But you really do have $4,000!” I said, “From where?” She said, “From Danny Thomas.” “Who’s Danny Thomas?” She said, “The TV star.”

Then she read me an article from The Chicago Sun. Local officials had told Mr. Thomas about a young rabbi who was struggling to get through medical school. Thomas asked, “How much does your rabbi need?” They said, “Four thousand dollars.” He said, “Tell your rabbi he’s got it.”

Rabbi Twerski was a scholar with feet planted firmly in two worlds — the rabbinic world of Torah and Talmud study, and a medical doctor and licensed psychiatrist. It was a rare pairing that earned him respect in both the insular ultra-Orthodox Jewish world and wider American society. He was an expert on addiction and scion of a long line of prominent rabbis descended from the 18th-century founder of Hassidic Judaism, the Baal Shem Tov.

Rabbi Twerski was a prolific writer. He authored dozens of books on a wide array of subjects: from addiction and mental health to religious law for medical professionals and commentaries on Jewish texts. Twerski also collaborated with late “Peanuts” comic strip creator Charles Schulz on a series of popular self-help books featuring Charlie Brown and Snoopy.

May his memory be for a blessing.

Rabbi Yisroel Bernath

Danny Thomas was also the founder of St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital.

[xdivinedecay]

✧ Patron Saints for the New Year

In your prayers for New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, American Catholics and Christians might like to consider invoking the intercession of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, who among other attributions is regarded as the Patron Saint of New Beginnings. This is usually credited to her being the first (United States) American-born Catholic that was canonized by the Roman Catholic Church. (Not to be confused with the first Indigenous American canonized saint, St. Kateri Tekakwitha.) St. Elizabeth was a pioneer of girls' education in early America, opening the first free school for girls in Baltimore, Maryland in 1808. Next, she started the Sisters of Charity, the first religious order for women, in 1809. Following on, she continued to open hospitals, orphanages, and even more schools.

While researching patron saints for new beginnings, I discovered an article about St. Lazarus Devasahayam, a Hindu-born man who converted to Christianity in the 18th century, and the first Indian layperson to be canonized as a saint (in 2022). He might be someone to consider looking into if his life and history sound appealing to you, I found an article about him through Vatican News.

And to recognize the new Jubilee Year of Hope from December 2024 until January 2026, I would be remiss not to mention St. Jude Thaddeus, one of the apostles as well as the Patron Saint of Hope (and Desperate Causes). Given the social and political climates occurring all over the world, he is a great resource for comfort, strength, and hope. Additionally, his mother was a cousin to the Mother Mary, meaning he shared a blood-tie to the human Jesus. According to Catholic.org, "Roman Catholics invoke St. Jude when in desperate situations because his New Testament letter stresses that the faithful should persevere in the environment of harsh, difficult circumstances -just as their forefathers had done before them; therefore, he is the patron saint of desperate cases."

Of course, remember to connect with the Holy Spirit, to Jesus, and to the rest of your patrons during this time!

I hope you all have a happy and safe new year holiday, and that we find strength, courage, and love for one another in 2025.

More lists of patron saints — Patron Saints for your Problems • Patron Saints for World Mental Health Day • Patron Saints for US Election Aftermath

Image edits by xdivinedecay • cross dividers by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[canisalbus]

Got a few questions about Machete and Vasco!

- favorite saints & why?

- do they enjoy their respective jobs? Why or why not?

- If you could think of one word to represent each of them, what would it be?

Thank you o/! I love the incredible world you've built :)

They both have a special fondness for St Sebastian due to shared memories.

Machete: St Jude (patron saint of lost causes, desperate situations, hope, hospitals)

Vasco: Archangel Raphael (travelers, youth, healing, lovers, happy meetings and finding one’s spouse)

Machete is a careerist and a workaholic. He enjoys the challenge and the sense of accomplishment and importance he gets out of his job as the secretary of state, even if it gets tiring and frustrating and he doesn't get along with his co-workers very well. His work is mostly administrative so you're very unlikely to meet him doing a lot of common priestly things, like conducting a Mass for example, and when he does he handles it in a very unremarkable, pokerfaced and by the book manner. Having to switch to inquisition duty really erodes away his mental wellbeing and ends up bringing out the worst in him.

Vasco has a lot more leisurely approach on work. He's a politician and a diplomat and a fairly succesful one at that, but he's not very interested in shouldering a lot of responsibility or being one of the key players in his circles. I think he has a lot of the qualities of a natural leader but little ambition to match it. I guess there could've been at least some nepotism at play and he might've initially gotten his position though family connections, but he's still genuinely competent and earnestly wants to do good job and serve his people well.

Machete: fragile

Vasco: luminous

[yourfavouritefighter]

OKAY SO IM KINDA NOT IN W GREAT MOOD RN SO IM GONNA RANT ABOUT THE JEKYLL AND HYDE MUSICAL since none of my irl pals are gonna listen you guys have to

SO POINT ONE

-the whole plot hinges around the core idea that Henry himself is a man with good intentions who goes too far, and that he was warned to stop but he doesn’t and his own hubris and desire to have scientific recognition pushes him to extremes, and in turn-his and many other’s deaths.

—> that’s bullshit however, considering in the 1997 musical sound track (the most recent one i can get my hands on) there are more songs convincing Henry that he should carry on than their are dissuading him (considering they cut board of governors). allow me to list examples and why it’s stupid that he’s a man who was dissuaded but chose to walk a danger game path anyways.

—> firstly, his best friend Gabriel John Utterson, deeply trusted and level headed with a good moral compass “Henry you have come too far, remember what you have a stake” and “you’ve got to see it through” both stated in a song called “pursue the truth”. this song is heavily pivotal as it inspires Henry to continue when he wouldn’t have otherwise due to pressure from the board of governors of st jude’s hospital. In this song he was not told that going forward would be dangerous, John likely knew exactly what Henry was doing but wholeheartedly encouraged him, Henry trusted his judgement. He was not dissuaded.

—>Emma and Lisa, for the sake of coherency I’ll be referring to her as Emma as i’ll be using the newer soundtrack for this discussion. His wife to be, who he’s supposedly madly in live with; spends all of “i must go on” encouraging his pursuit of science, encouraging him to carry on his work. In lines like “when this all began, we knew there’d be a price to pay”, “too late to turn away”, reinforcing the idea in Henry’s mind that this is the best way forward- who cares about stuffy governors when those dear and near to him have expressed clear support of his work.

—>You could hypothetically argue that neither John nor Emma truly knew the extent to which Henry was going with his experiments, not truly understanding what he wanted to or was trying to achieve. However, if that was the intention the writers should’ve made that more overt considering later in the play they heavily emphasise the theme and idea that Henry has, quote “gone too far”, a phrase repeatedly used. Instead they lead the audience also view this as an honourable goal, due to the growing support of Henry and the audiences like of the characters at this point in the play.

Through the removal of Lanyon, the central conflict and core flaw of Henry Jekyll as a character has been removed, if he has no close friend to strongly and brutally disagree with him, it was no long *his* flaw that he carried on, it was no longer his fault, as the blame could be feasibly shared between him and those who encouraged him, shifting the play and narrative from a criticism of society in that extremism whether it be for or against change leads to a poor outcome, to being a story about how a well intentioned yet flawed scientist was misguided by his passion and loved ones, and payed the price.

-(next point because i’ve argued long enough about that.) was Henry Jekyll really as well intentioned as the play attempts to convey?

—>(Short answer, no. Long answer, potentially). Henry’s morality is heavily debatable, with it being dependant on the rendition of the play you watched, for the sake of the cohesion of the argument i’m going to be basing this entirely off of what i’ve seen of the 1997 and the 1995 plays.

—> firstly let’s discuss what the writers intended, or at least my perspective on what they were aiming to convey. within the opening scenes, we are greeted with Henry and his unnamed(?) father who is stuck in a mental asylum for reasons we as an audience are not privy to, Henry sings “lost in the darkness” a song establishing his motivations and goals as a character. I believe that the intention here was to give the viewer the impression that Henry as a character and person is moral and good, becoming misguided in his efforts to achieve his goals and save his father, eventually sacrificing himself for the sake of the safety of society, once the monster of his own well intentioned creation consumes him. So as a character it could be argued that he is moral. However i what the writers intended and what they conveyed are hugely different.

—> Due to the placement of Henry’s motivation being at the beginning of the play, the intention was likely to hook the audience into liking him as a character, forcing them to see how well intentioned he is before exploring his flaws and then eventually having him sacrifice himself to show his respectable morality as a character. However, by closely following this with “board of governors” (and the 1997 equivalent assumedly) we are hit with the whiplash of what was presented as a good person, and the man who argues with the board. Due to how bitter and cruelly he acts in a futile attempt to gain funding(?) and support for his project, the audience may rightfully assume that his kindness was a facade (especially since facades and the duality of man are central themes) and that Henry’s true colours are shown within this situation. If the writers truly intended to establish his perfect morality, they should have had Henry visit his father, and “lost in the darkness” take place after Henry is refused by the governors, so that his rage and refusal to take no for an answer is a shown to be a result of his stress and care for his father- not his questionable morality. This is because the audience will retain things that happen later in the play best, using them to form their impressions, so by shifting the placement of this scene it shifts the presentation of the character as a whole. But that is not what we are here to discuss.

—> Henry and Lucy. Another instance of Henry’s good morality working against him, as despite entering with the intention to find a test subject- he leaves having given Lucy his business card(?) and offering her support due to her situation. This eventually leads to her death, but it is another instance of his good morality, there were no strings attached to this aid, as Henry was a soon to be married man, and there is no implications that he finds her attractive (if you are to follow the play’s implications that Jekyll and Hyde are truly separate beings). So clearly you could argue that his morality is good, right?

—> Hyde. From a scientific standpoint, matter cannot be created or destroyed, going from that perspective, Hyde’s intentions cannot have just appeared-they had to be fuelled by Jekyll’s innermost desires and thoughts, especially since Hyde goes after those who have wronged Henry during “murder murder”. So the murderous impulses, the sketchy behaviour and outright illegal behaviour towards Lucy came from Jekyll. However this doesn’t make Henry an immoral character.

—> Humour me for a moment while i discuss the concept of the id. So freud (yes that freud) had a theory that stated that humans were comprised of three parts that all worked together, the id the ego and the super ego. The id was your animalistic urges and desires, your superego is societal expectations for the most part, acting as your selflessness. With the ego balancing the two; preventing you from donating all of your money to charity and putting you on the streets, and preventing you from going on a murder spree, killing the upper class. Within the original novel, Hyde is implied to be without the ego or superego, merely the embodiment of Jekyll’s id. So now comes the debate, is a person immoral for having immoral desires, if unacted upon?

—>Therein lies the conflict, as whether or not immoral desires mean an immoral person or character. Personally i believe no, the average person will have immoral thoughts from time to time, the true evil comes from how such desires are dealt with. So while Hyde is evil, despite being based upon Jekyll, you cannot state that that makes Henry evil in turn. Paired with the potential that Hyde is a twisted version of Jekyll’s own desires (for example Henry wants revenge against the governors-Hyde interprets that as murder, whilst Jekyll implies showing them that he was right).

anyways this has got way too long so rip, mb if this is incoherent i woke up and was like ‘jekyll and hyde musicals really sucked at doing plot and character development…welp time to rant’

please correct me in the comments if i’m misremembering shit i’m stupid so it’s a possibility

[sailorvenusxoxo]

Sunshine on St-Jude's PT1/2

Fandom: Takin' Over The Asylum Pairings: Campbell Bain/Reader Requests: Through the asks, and not comments please♡ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63666472/chapters/163200340 Ratings: T Summary:You and Campbell, despite being the same age in such a harsh institute, don't get along, that's a known fact. Most things about him infuriate you, and you see your stay at St-Jude's even harder with him always around, and the radio. However, after some hurtful words, and a long heart-to-heart, it seems that Campbell's desire to loose his virginity is something that will lead to a more hopeful and beautiful insight on life and yourselves. You embrace the chaos, he embraces an ounce of control in his less-than-normal life, and it feels like a ray of sunhsine on St-Jude's. Warnings: Mention of sex, mention of losing virginity, mention of Bipolar Disorder... Words Count: 4.9k a/n notes: The smut will be in part two, this chapter is free of explicit scenes!

Needless to say, you and Campbell Bain weren’t exactly the greatest of friends. Granted, people rarely went all buddy-buddy in mental institutions, especially one as gloomy and horrendous as Saint Jude.

However, it was true some of the staff and people around you thought, that since you and Campbell were around the same age, you’d get on rather easily. However, the opposite happened.

Everything about him unnerved you. His cheeky smile, the way he’d gesticulate about everything, how he lit up whenever the radio was mentioned… But most of all, his spurred moments of musicality, with his guitar.

Especially at two AM. God, those were horrendous.

“All I’m sayin’ is, if ye think ye can get yer scrawny clawed fingers on me cocoa again, ye’re in for a defenestration Fergus style, without the comin’ back part!”

Campbell grinned, his eyes staring into yours, his smile not as warm as it’d be for Eddie or Fergus.

“And all I’m saying is, that a manic depressive perhaps shouldn’t be caught saying all those things, especially with a window near opened…”

You replied, your voice purposefully going a bit lower, your eyes staring back at his with a feigned pity. You knew it was cruel, but it ticked him off so badly to have you mock his lack of calmness, and imply he wasn’t being reasonable, that you couldn’t help but do it.

Campbell raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“What, like they can put me in a loonier place, or treat me like a loony level 78?”

He retorted, as you huffed softly, arms crossed, as your gaze wandered away from his eyes, to stare at the various suspicious stains left by other patients. They were, in your opinion, much nicer to look at than Campbell.

“Ah, hopefully they will…”

You mumbled, not looking at his scrunched face. Campbell grunted, shaking his face. In his eyes, you were the sort of bummer to interrupt a party, or try your best to disband the current hospital radio.

“Ye’re a pain. A bossy freak, that ought to- Eddie!”

He exclaimed, grinning, noticing his radio colleague, his partner in crime, Eddie Mackenna, walking to him, a jacket tossed under his arm, hands in his pockets. Eddie smiled tightly to Campbell, clearly a bit tired, but overall glad to be here, in his own gruff way. He nodded to you, before looking back at Campbell.

“Aye, Campbell. How are ye doin’?”

Eddie asked, his voice a bit hoarse, smiling to the younger man, clearly expecting the same antics from him. He eyed the radio booth from afar, checking quickly if everything was proper.

“Fine, fine, all dandy! All tip top and bouncin’, like usual…Ye brought the new vinyls? And what about that letter ye told me ye’d sent? I sent one too, just incase! Have you seen-”

Campbell started, going on a rant that was characteristic of his energetic personality. People often mistook his spurs of excitement for manic episodes, clearly unaware how actual manic episodes were.

Eddie raised his eyebrows and put his hands in front of him in a calming manner, to calm Campbell’s rant, and stop him.

“I sent th’ bloody letter…Let’s just start, aye? I promised Francine she could take over by noon, so better get ye started.”

Eddie interrupted him, sighing softly, his mind already on Francine’s shift, hoping it would go as smoothly as usual. Well, as smooth as things usually were here.

Sensing your argument with Campbell was dismissed, you took this opportunity to head back to the common living room, hoping to find something other than EastEnders on the telly. Your hopes were quickly dimmed, though.

Soon enough, nestled in a corner of the couch, after the beginning of an episode you stopped trying to figure out, you heard the familiar jingle.

Hospital Radio… St-Jude’s! “Hello lovely people of this not so lovely place…How’s everyone hangin’, there? Hope no one is, Ha!”

Campbell’s voice rang out, grinning in the booth, already excited for this. He was also rather proud of his joke, before seeing Eddie’s wide eyes look, and Rosalie turning away from her cleaning to look at him.

He cleared his throat, inwardly thinking his genius would only be recognised after his death.

“…Hum. Fer our first track of the day, we decided te start off with a patriotic song, aka, the hymn of Scotland itself…Ladies and Not-so-gentlemen, get ready te walk 500 Miles fer ‘I’m Gonna Be’, by The Proclaimers!”

Campbell proudly announced, as Eddie put the vinyl on, on Campbell’s go. He laid back on his chair, proud and happy, a bright smile on his face, as he listened to the catchy music, glancing on today’s music program.

He thought back of the lyrics of this song, picturing himself professing it to a nice lassie, just for him. She’d be thrilled, of course.

As the song ended, Campbell took back the mic, glancing at the next song. He smirked slightly, an idea taking over his brain.

“Movin’ on, we have a tiny weenie bit of an American pride… Glorious America! We move to a song that explains a feelin’ I very well know, and hope none of you do, “Like a Virgin”, by Madonna!”

He announced, proudly exclaiming he was still a virgin. Perhaps a nice girl, passing by the hospital, would hear it, and very selfishly propose herself.

…A lad could dream, right?

During the song, he was displeased to see Francine insisting to take his shift earlier, after only two songs. And while he was clearly ready to die on his throne, Eddie kicked him out, pretexting Francine was allowed to practice more, as a beginner. Campbell huffed, knowing Eddie was perhaps a bit biased.

He exited the radio booth, dodging Stuart who was cleaning a suspicious stain, and entered the common living room, grunting as he noticed Eastenders on, and jumped over the couch, to sit in it, not noticing the person next to him.

As he noticed it was you, cozily nestled like a bloody bat (in his humble and un-biased opinion) in the couch, he rolled his eyes, tilting his body away. He didn’t even want the particles surrounding his body to graze yours.

You turned your head to him, your face stern and annoyed. His quirky remarks and jokes weren’t funny to you, but painfully too much, and embarrassing. You scoffed, opening your mouth.

“…Do you have to reference your virginity at every bloody seconds? We get it, you’re a virgin at 19. Do you realise how common it is? You are not forty…”

You remarked, annoyed, not helping yourself from digging a jab at him, your eyes back on the telly.

Campbell snapped his head back at you, frowning, annoyed.

“I’ll have ye know it’s startin’ to itch fer me! I need te live a little, and loose it out, as a free man!”

He retorted, his tone biting, as his head rested on his hand, against the couch’s arm.

You blinked, your lips scrunching at his wording. Itch…? Ew… Why was he treating this urge or want like the STI he’d probably get during his first time, knowing his carelessness?

“…First, absolutely disgusting, never use the word ‘itch’ to refer to it again. Second, having sex won’t solve your mental issues.”

You remarked, your tone condescending, as if you knew better, when you were as experienced as he was. Campbell frowned, his eyes fixed on you.

“It’s not what I said.”

He stated, scoffing softly.

“That’s what it meant.”

You retorted, your eyes still on the telly, shrugging. Campbell let out a loud exhale, annoyed.

“Aye, ye’re a therapist, now? Explains why no one here gets better...”

He jabbed, raising an eyebrow.

“Or maybe it’s your bloody radio…”

You mumbled, arms crossed, huffing, as he turned back to you, angry and outraged.

“Do NOT bring the radio into this!”

He gasped, like an offended parent. He continued, shaking his head, building his argument as he spoke.

“It actually gives everyone a bit of light, and especially te those workin’ in there!”

He explained, more vehement and serious than usual, since it concerned the project that took over his heart.

“Makes me feel like I haven’t completely lost it, got it?Not me fault ye’re so stuck up ye can’t even enjoy music properly…”

He finished, on a more biased and personal touch, grumbling.

 “Excuse me?!”

You snapped, your head turning back to him, as some patients shushed you, focused on EastEnders.

“Ye heard me, snotty!”

Campbell retorted, sitting up, ignoring the shushes.

“I do enjoy music, but since you’re always hogging around the station, I don’t really fancy it, see?”

You scoffed, shaking your head, utterly baffled by his immaturity.

“Jesus Christ, what’s even yer problem with me, what did I ever do te ye?!”

Campbell snapped, getting up, his voice raising up, as he glared at you. You stood right back up too, ready to spill something you thought for too long.

The shushes stopped, the other patients now focusing on you two.

“God, it’s everything! You’re always all over the place, trying to have this place match your… bloody manic energy, when sometimes…For fuck’s sake, can’t you do a day of calm?!”

You blurted out, staring right into his eyes.

“No, I bloody cannea! What are ye gunna do about that?!”

Campbell retorted, throwing the pillow he had in hand back to the couch.

“Why the hell not?! Damn it, just an afternoon, of you not blabbering around, running around, like a toddler on crack, wouldn’t that be nice?!”

You almost shouted, your arms gesturing to the whole room, to amplify the lack of peace, as the nurses away started to notice the ruckus.

“I’ll tell ye what’d be nice: a day without ye bossin’ around the place, and tryin’ to have everyone as bloody miserable as you! Ye don’t want te heal, and you just want everyone te sink with ye!”

Campbell shouted out, as the nurses got into the room. The whole room quieted down, and not because of their arrival. Simply, you were stunned. Utterly stunned, to see that’s what he thought of you. And utterly terrified, wondering if it was indeed what you were doing. Campbell huffed, his chest heaving, slightly panting from the spur of rage that burst out of him.

The nurses simply looked at you, waiting to see if it was escalating or not. But as you noticed everyone staring at you, including Eddie, Rosalie, and Fergus, you blinked away some tears, mortified, before hurrying out of the living room, hurrying back to your room.

Campbell looked at your fleeting form, wondering for a second if he had gone too far, before his anger took over again. After all, was he wrong? That was what you were doing, at least in his view.

Meanwhile, back in your room, you were under the covers of your bed, sniffling softly. The tears were spilling as you found comfort and protection under the thin blanket. It always a habit of yours, to feel more at ease under a blanket. If your whole body was covered, even by a sheet, it felt like nothing could hit you.

A part of you felt mortified to appear this way. You knew it was dreadful to care much about what the other patients thought, especially Campbell, but then again… It seemed like their opinions did matter. Whether you wanted or not, they were your peers, now. And the thought of one of them thinking this about you was heartbreaking.

You didn’t see yourself as moping around and bringing everyone down. You simply didn’t. Sure, you weren’t the one always joyful and jumping around like Campbell, but then again, was it such a terrible thing? You had your own ways to cope, and they didn’t involve bringing other people down.

So who was Campbell to judge? Not everyone can handle things the way he does, nor should they! A spur of rage took over you, and you paced around your room, before grumbling, landing back on your bed.

Meanwhile, Campbell had taken back his shift at the station, almost forcefully, ignoring the insistent glances from Eddie, and simply grabbing the box of requests.

From your room, you cringed, hearing the speaker ring again, Campbell’s clearly irritated yet feigning jolliness voice coming through.

“And now, readin’ in me box of special mystery requests, we have, from an anonymous, a song that will brighten everyone’s evenin’, despite the sun slowly comin’ down. It’s The Proclaimers who opened our day, and will end it, with “Sunshine on Leith”!”

Your eyes slightly widened, as you realised it was your request, and the song you had asked for, anonymously. You pinched your lips, a mixed bittersweet feeling, as the first notes started. The sound was muffled, since you were in your room. Hence, you decided to step out, walking through the hallways, and past the radio booth, to stand near a speaker, that stood at an angle giving a view on the window, where a sunshine came through. How beautifully ironic.

Campbell saw you, walking through the hallways, and his eyes squinted at your sight, as the song played. Were you about to cause another scene, try and bother him again, and accusing him of simply existing?

But no, you simply stood near that used speaker, looking at the sunshine through the window. Campbell pinched his lips, feeling a tug of guilt at his heart, noticing the clear melancholy on your face. The mic shut for now, as the song played, Eddie approached Campbell, an eyebrow raised, treading carefully.

“ye know Campbell…”

He started, as Campbell grumbled, still staring at you.

“Don’t start.”

He interrupted him, groaning.

“I’m tryin’ to give ye an advice-”

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head.

“If it’s not about radio, Eddie, I don’t want it.”

Campbell retorted, adamant, his eyes still on you.

“Campbell…”

Eddie sighed, putting his hand on his shoulder, which Campbell shrugged away. Eddie sent a look to Rosalie and Francine, also in the booth.

Rosalie sighed, putting her bottle of Dettol down.

“In a way, we’re all tryin’ te make this place a bit more bearable. And…Well, we all have a different definition of home, or comfort. And despite everythin’, we all share a same thin’. The aversion for that place.”

She murmured, as Campbell closed his eyes, a mixture of insurgence yet guilt gnawing at him.

“…So, basically, ye’re tellin’ me-?”

He grumbled, as Francine chimed in as well.

“I get why you said it, I really do. But… It wasn’t nice to. We’re all…Tryin’ and failin’.”

She murmured, her eyes on Campbell, as he turned back to her. Campbell sighed loudly, his eyes falling back on you.

“…Fine.”

He mumbled.

Campbell exited the booth, Francine taking his place, as the music kept on playing. Approaching you, he cleared his throat, not beating around the bushes.

“So…I suppose I’m sort of sorry.”

He stated, his voice a grumble, as you looked back at him, frowning. You were surprised, pleased, but also still quite offended.

“…What a shite apology.”

You remarked, looking back at the window, as he rolled his eyes.

“For a shite argument. I wasn’t exactly wrong…”

Campbell retorted, looking in space, exaggerating a shrug and feigning nonchalance.

“You weren’t exactly right…”

You replied, your eyes squinting back at him. Campbell sighed, deciding to listen to his therapist latest blabber about emotional maturity, or whatever it was.

“Listen, I…I’m actually sorry. I ken it’s as tough fer ye as…Anyone else.”

He gritted out, trying to say something nice. He sort of meant it, after all. Maybe…Maybe he’d ought to see things from your point of view as well.

You sighed, reluctantly admitting that his words were rather nice, and much better than his previous ones. Things were indeed tough for you, extremely.

Just like…Just like they were also tough for him. You reckoned that maybe, if your way to cope was to control everything, Campbell’s was to try and light up a room, matching it to his ideal version of a world.

“…It is. And I… I suppose I’m also sorry. You’re just trying to make this place a bit more like you, a bit more like home, and cheer up people.”

You mumbled, sighing, as Campbell swallowed, surprised by your accurate words. Perhaps that indeed, he was always rather jittery to make himself feel a bit better, and like… A sort of home. Where his ma’ was better, and his da’ not disappointed by him.

“Aye, I suppose I do.”

He murmured, before adding.

“I just… I feel so bloody lonely here. I felt no joy or real excitement, before the radio. And now, I do  feel… better, y’know? More…Stable. And Happier, with all the animatin’ and hostin’. But God, I… I cannae understand how…All of us, who feel th’ same thin’… We can’t just… Feel better together. Or at least, not alone.”

He confessed, his thoughts dangling in a thread. You pinched his lips, grabbing on to his thread of thoughts, getting what he meant.

“…Because despite it being the same feeling, it’s different fragments of it. It’s humans. All the same, yet so different. No one could understand Manic Depression like a Manic Depressive, Campbell. And being understood is what makes us feel not alone.”

You replied, frowning softly as your words came up, like a sudden epiphany. Campbell pinched his lips, his face scrunching as he tilted his head.

“…I disagree. I ken bein’ listened to and heard, is what makes you feel not alone.”

He replied, blinking, pondering. You raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback, but somehow trying to understand.

“…How come?”

You asked, as he shrugged.

“I dinnae know. Maybe because… Even if they don’t understand…The fact they listen, and hear you is… It means you’re supported. And it makes you feel not alone.”

He murmured, his voice growing a bit more hoarse, before he nervously chuckled, to diffuse the awkwardness he was feeling at confessing this to you.

His words made you wonder on something else.

“Then Therapists should make us feel not alone.”

You stated, following his logic. Campbell scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Not them! They’re paid at th’ end of the day, and ours would make anyone hang themselves. I mean…Someone who listens and hears ye, because they want te. Because they care.”

He retorted, adamant. You exhaled loudly, hands on your hips, pinching your lips.

“So…Care is what lacks with us. In a place supposed to be a caring house for us.”

You concluded, a gloom air on your face. Campbell stayed silent, his face keeping a bitter smile on.

“…Aye.”

He agreed, a cloud of helplessness and anger looming over your minds. Deciding you didn’t want to waste your evening listing everything wrong with the current system, you latched to something else.

“I reckon you’re confusing sex and love.”

You stated, arms crossed, as Campbell looked back at you, frowning.

“…Well that came out of nowhere.”

He snorted, scoffing. You looked back at him, scoffing as well, rolling your eyes and building an explanation.

“Just saying! But…Maybe all that eagerness about losing your virginity… It’s because you think it involves Love, and care. And it can! But… With the way you’re talking about it, it sounds like you’re going to jump on the first girl out.”

You mumbled, as Campbell frowned, offended.

“I am not!”

He protested, shaking his head, as you looked back at him, unconvinced.

“Oh, yeah?”

You snorted, as he glared at you.

“I won’t! I’ll find me self a bonnie wee lassie, with whom I’ll explore the joy of carnal pleasure and intimacy!”

He explained, his plan already set in stone, with this air of smugness he often had when laying out his future plans, as if they’d happen exactly like he imagined. You pinched your lips, your eyebrows scrunching.

“Well, that’s the thing. You seem so eager, and you’ll need time to feel comfortable. Especially fresh out of here!”

You explained, frowning. Campbell looked back at you, unfazed.

“Nonsense… I’ll meet the one, right out of here!”

He stated, adamant, as you nodded.

“…Right, that’s realistic.”

You sarcastically agreed, stretching your arms. Campbell huffed, once again offended by your lack of belief in him.

“I will! And after some days-”

He started, his plan already picturing itself, as you stopped him, already appalled, and almost… concerned.

“Days?! Jesus, Campbell, that’s too short, even for you! You’ll still be a bit…Vulnerable. You can’t put your trust and your entire being in the first girl you’ll meet out. It’s not fair to her, and especially you.”

You hurriedly said, shaking your head, the feeling of him doing something so reckless being almost stressful to you. Why would he do such an unsure, and stressful thing, without an insurance things will go perfectly?

Campbell sighed again, looking at you with bored eyes.

“Ye’re bein’ a real sourpuss, like usual…”

He retorted, grabbing the cocoa a nurse had handed to him. Somehow, the idea of him actually doing that was sending you in an alarmed spiral.

“Campbell, I’m serious! You’ll feel worse, losing your virginity like that! Especially on a whim-”

You spurted out, shaking your head, almost uncomfortable. Why did he have the feeling he’d have to do that? It’d only bring him troubles! When you’d lose your virginity, you’ll plan it before with the right trust worthy person, right place, and certainly not on a whim like him!

“Then how do I do it, huh, if not with the first lassie I see? Ye think girls are gunna line up fer me? I ain’t daft, datin’ a manic depressive isn’t exactly a turn-on…”

Campbell retorted, putting his cocoa back on the coffee table, half drank. You sighed, feeling a bit bad by his words. You supposed he wasn’t all that bad, physically. You couldn’t really see why he wouldn’t manage to get a girl, especially if just for one night.

“…Don’t go all pessimistic, though…”

You mumbled, rolling your eyes, as Campbell raised an eyebrow, his composure snapping. His little bubble of happiness and confidence broke, and his insecurities spurted out, like a waterfall.

“But it’s true! A-And, who cares if it doesn’t last?! Damn it, all I need is just a bit of hope, warmth, intimacy, and a semblance of a normal experience fer a lad me age, despite me bloody horrendous self! I barely kissed a girl, went on a date, me own parents wants te get rid of me, who on earth-”

He rambled, his face scrunching in distress and chagrin. Somehow, this sight tilted something inside of you. God…He was so lonely. So bloody sad, like a beaten puppy. But most of all, he really was like you. Afraid of disappointing people, hating the way his life looked, without any control or ounce of normalness in it.

This spurred an unexpected rise of confidence, but also desperation in you. In a blur of emotions, your hands reached for his face, quickly cupping it between your cold hands, before you planted your lips on his. His rambling stopped, as his eyes widening, a little sound of surprise escaping his mouth.

You quickly pulled back, a bit mortified, but most of all curious of his reaction. Christ, why was touching his lips making him less annoying? No, you couldn’t have the hormones thinking for you. It was the heart-to-heart conversation that made him less annoying.

But why had you kissed him? Was it good to kiss a man out of pity? It really didn’t sound good, but then again, it was also to your own pleasure. And despite it being a long peck, it wasn’t that bad at all.

As you pulled away, he stared back at you, his eyes wide opened.

“What the…?”

He murmured, stunned, as you nervously chuckled. God what have you done?

“Sorry.”

You murmured, mortified, as Campbell blinked, utterly speechless. It wasn’t that bad (to his own surprise), but why did you do it?

“Why did ye do it? Did I appear that pitiful?”

He mumbled, his voice going higher, a bit panicked. Your eyes widened, and you shook your head, fiddling with your fingers.

“No, no! Well, sort of, but… God, I’m the same. Listen, I don’t know why I did that, I… I’m sorry, but… For a moment, it felt like the right thing to do, and-”

You insisted, trying to explain your chaotic train of thoughts, that Campbell interrupted with a rather well-thought, developed argument.

“…It did feel pretty good.”

He stated, his voice dripping off surprise, and a bit of disgust. You swallowed difficultly, tilting your head.

“…Yeah?”

You echoed, cringing, as he nodded quickly.

“Yeah.”

He replied, his thoughts going 500 miles per hour. He looked at you, really looked at you, mulling you over. Yes, his current thoughts were making assess your appearances, but something in your previous conversation had shifted the dynamic between you two.

His thoughts came to a single proposition, that seemed nutter even for him. But almost…Tempting. And worthy to be put in his memoir, when he’d be a disc-jockey legend.

“I might say another loony thing.”

He mumbled, his eyes staring at you, shifting from your eyes to your lips.

“Aren’t we already loonies?”

You snickered softly, taking his expression. He weakly chuckled, nodding.

“Aye, but even for loonies, it’s a bit much.”

He murmured, swallowing with difficulty, wondering if he should do it. Maybe if you took it in the worst ways, he could feign a manic phase. Not ethical, but worth saving his arse for.

“What is it…?”

You asked, intrigued, and almost… Enticed? Oh god, you were enticed! You were excited to find out!

Meanwhile, Campbell was pondering over your previous words, about intimacy, being ready, the right person. Could it be, that the right person to be with, to experiment something people his age did, and to regain an ounce of normalness was…You? The person who could understand like no others the mental prison that was St-Jude’s?

“I…I feel it. Whatever it was, that ye were talkin’ about. The thing about… feelin’ ready. And comfortable. God, I usually can’t stand ye, but…I feel like…If I were to lose my virginity with ye, I wouldn’t regret it. Or feel judged, or…anything bad. It’s mad, right?”

He nervously chuckled, an eyebrow raised, looking at you and sizing your reaction. Your heart stopped at his proposal, and you felt your usual logical instincts go berserk, trying to grasp the logic of it. It was there, very thin and scrambly, but it seemed to be quite plausible. You quickly nodded, finding yourself to agree, as your two ideas; you kissing him, and him…Whatever his mind was thinking, collided.

“A bit. But the right type. Not the type that makes you creepy, or stay further here, but rather the type…To thrill, and makes you feel like you’re in a novel.”

You replied, shrugging, smiling tentatively at him. Campbell smirked, his usually cheeky grin making a very welcomed comeback.

“Oooh, do I sound like a character from one of yer porn Jilly Cooper books?”

He grinned, teasing you, since he had witnessed you reading some of those quite a bit. You huffed, playfully retching, imagine Campbell saying lines from Rupert Campbell Black, or Tony Baddingham. It was…enticingly disgusting. Or disgustingly enticing, same thing, right?

“…Certainly not, and thank god.”

You mumbled, a hint of a smirk on your lips. He shrugged, mirroring your smirk.

“I could. Ye know, te set up the mood.”

He playfully replied, an eyebrow raised, already envisioning himself getting into a “Playboy” Role. Maybe Rose Petals? But where did you find any, here? Chocolate was also nice, though they only had cold thick cocoas.

You sighed softly, shaking your head and looking back at him.

“…I don’t need you to act like someone else.”

You stated, looking away, ignoring the undertones of this sentence. Campbell’s smirk softened, and he looked back at you.

“Thought I infuriated ye.”

He murmured, his voice softer, and quite touched by the accidental acceptance.

“You do. But… I suppose that…It’s the same for me. Sleeping with you wouldn’t be a regret, Campbell, nor would it affect us badly. I think it’d make us feel… A bit better, actually.”

You stated, nodding your head, looking in space, once again trying to make logic of the situation, despite it mainly being driven by urges and painfully emotional needs.

“…Aye, it would.”

He agreed, smiling, his hands going in his pockets. You looked back at him, hands on your hips.

“Are we really doing this?”

You asked, making sure, cringing slightly, as he shrugged, smirking.

“If ye want te.”

He replied, with a hint of wariness in his eyes, actually checking for your full consent, but also a bit scared to see if you would decline on second thoughts.

You pinched your lips, painfully nodding, too proud to directly admit it was enticing, and quite what you needed. Or wanted.

“Do you want to?”

You retorted, an eyebrow raised, almost challenging and stern, as he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I do! I just said it!”

He insisted, almost snapping, as you slapped your legs slightly while shrugging, annoyed.

“Alright, no need for the tone…”

You mumbled, following him into the hallway, for a more secluded conversation, that you had already bullet points for.

Your boundaries.

His boundaries.

Where to do it?

When to do it?

Where to get the Protection?

[angeltreasure]

Hello :)

Do you have any tips on where I can donate stuff to? I see you talk about donating and helping the needy sometimes (something I keep wanting to do more of) I feel bad cuz I haven’t been too involved recently :/

I really want to help out or give stuff to people who need it more

Good Afternoon!

Don’t worry, it’s never too late to donate. I got you covered! A good place to start is your own diocese webpage!

Other examples:

- your own family members in need

- your next door neighbor

- your friends

- your church (this is probably the most active with a variety of options!)

- Mental Health Ministry

- Knights of Columbus

- Marians of the Immaculate Conception

- EWTN

- Relevant Radio

- pro life crisis pregnancy centers

- Maggie’s Place

- St. Gianna’s Place

- food banks (don’t donate expired food and be mindful of what is currently most needed) like this one

- hospitals (medical supplies like canes, wheelchairs, etc)

- St. Jude

- homeless shelters (think of clothing, gift cards, food, etc)

- nursing homes

- schools

- Charity and Development Appeal

- The Society of St. Vincent de Paul

- Catholic Charities USA

- Catholic Relief Services

- Kolbe Mission

- Sisters of Life

- Susan B. Anthony Pro Life America

- Wounded Warrior Project

- The International Fellowship of Christians and Jews

- You can even donate to homeless on the streets. I always carry an extra bottle of water when I drive, as well as prayer cards and Rosaries. If that person is not next to the highway exit, I’ll go buy them fresh food. For homeless dogs, I have a bottle of water and some dog food in a bowl.

[lestatslestits]

I am once again posting by the skin of my teeth, but it’s still Thursday here which means I’m not late for TOTA Takeover Day Four, dedicated to Fergus MacKinnon.

Fergus is a very special character to me, and his arc is devastating. I work in mental health and out of all of the characters in the show, Fergus is the one who hits closest to home for me.

And as a result it took me a long time to decide what I wanted to write. In the end, I’m pleased with the outcome and I hope y’all enjoy it too.

Note: this is a direct follow up to Rosalie’s ficlet from Day One, in the sense that they take place in the same day/night, and this fic makes reference to that one (although it’s brief and you can definitely still understand this one if you haven’t read it)

He can’t sleep, so he decides to go to the kitchen.

He likes kitchens, they’re filled with the kinds of things he understands: things powered with electricity, things alive with faint humming noises and barely-there vibrations that no one notices but him. This kitchen, massive and industrial, sounds nothing like his mam’s kitchen growing up, or even the kitchen in the flat he had occupied until he occupied a series of loony bins instead, but there’s still something he finds grounding about it, especially late at night when there are no staff members to chase him out because they are afraid he’ll learn where the knives are kept.

(He already knows where the knives are kept, and how to pick the lock on the cupboard door.)

(He once spent an entire afternoon hiding in an entirely different and thoroughly forgotten cupboard just to prove to himself that he could do it without being caught out. To this day, no one knows.)

There are two ways to get into the St. Jude’s Hospital kitchen when you’re not on staff. One involves abseiling down the side of the building from his fourth floor room and the other involves being able to walk silently, blend into the shadows, keep his head down, and be massively underestimated by everyone who sees him. He’s not in the mood to rig up a rope this late in the evening, so he chooses the latter option.

Stuart doesn’t typically work the graveyard shifts, and the aides who do are less inclined to act like big stupid guard dogs eager to slam patients into walls. The one occupying the nurse’s station nearest to the kitchen has brought a book to read and it must be a good one because he doesn’t even look up as Fergus slips past him.

He wishes he knew what the book was. He’s already read everything in the hospital’s single-shelf “library,” and money is always tight so hasn’t picked up any books on his last few outings. But as he can’t very well go up and ask, he puts the thought aside and focuses on picking the locks on the kitchen door. There are two, and he knows how to pick them both with paperclips.

(Technically speaking, he isn’t meant to have paperclips, but they are remarkably easy to nick from almost any desk in the hospital, so he’s always got plenty on hand.)

He slips into the kitchen and shuts the door behind him. He breathes easier in here, out of the line of sight. Even so, he turns one of the locks behind him, and navigates in the dark so that no light shines out under the crack in the door.

For a long moment he relishes his hard-won freedom, and loses himself in the sounds all around him.

In his younger days no one had believed or even had any interest in listening to his insistence that there were voices—whispers—in the electrical hum of the world around him. In fact, no one had cared about the voices he heard at all, until they started shouting abusive litanies and telling him to follow the hidden messages he heard in television and radio broadcasts.

(After that they had cared a lot.)

(To this day the voices he hears in the ambient noise of the modern world are the only ones he actually finds comforting—and the ones no one else seems interested in.)

He allows himself this moment of peace where these voices drown out the ones demanding self-hatred and paranoia.

(The meds that they give him make those voices quieter, but they never silence them completely.)

Once he’s fully grounded in the space and his eyes have adjusted to the darkness, he reminds himself that he’s on mission and moves primarily by sound and touch in search of his prize.

The cocoa here is shit. It’s cheap powdered stuff bought in bulk and mixed with hot water, often without much effort at stirring out the clumps. He’s working with what he’s got, but he swaps water out in favor of milk, a small luxury. Once it’s boiling gently he stirs in the cocoa mix, using the light of the open refrigerator to determine when the clumps have been properly obliterated.

He does the washing up when he’s finished with the kitchen: puts everything back into order and escapes with one perfect cup of cocoa, locking the doors behind him. The aide at the desk has not looked up from his book.

~~~

“I’ve got something for you.”

The figure in the narrow bed shifts under a multitude of blankets. “Fergus? What time is it?” His voice sounds thoroughly wrecked.

“Late. You slept through the cocoa round. Figured you needed the rest, though.”

“So you’re waking me now instea—oh.” Campbell Bain has flopped onto his back and is now squinting up at him with bleary, watery eyes.

He extends the cup he’s holding. “Made it myself,” he explains, answering the unasked question of where he got cocoa at this hour.

“Do they no keep the kitchen locked up tae keep the loonies out of the knives and all?”

“They try,” he agrees amiably, with a subdued smile. Then, “It’s going cold.”

Campbell heaves himself into a sitting position and coughs mightily for his effort. Fergus waits until he’s done before he hands him the cocoa.

“Rosalie stopped by. Earlier.”

“Oh?”

“She couldn’t—“

“Right,” The boy’s head bobs in understanding. He sips the cocoa and declares, “That’s no bad. Different than what we get on the cocoa round, though.”

“I used real milk.” He’s actually properly proud of that, and feels the pride legitimized by Campbell’s appreciative smile. It drops when he asks, “How’s the throat?”

“Hurts.”

Fergus brushes Campbell’s absurd fringe from his face and presses a hand to his forehead. Still feverish.

“Thanks for the cocoa. I didnae know you could cook.”

“It’s just cocoa, Campbell.” He hesitates and adds, “I like kitchens, though. They whisper to me.”

It’s not a strange thing to say. Not here. And anyways, Campbell never seems to register strangeness. He looks unsurprised, and there’s sincerity in his voice when he asks, “What do they say?”

“Good things,” Fergus replies. He doesn’t elaborate. It’s too personal, anything beyond that. Campbell doesn’t press.

“That’s nice,” he says, drinking the cocoa to the dregs. “I’m glad. Thanks for the cocoa.”

“Don’t mention it.” He means that literally: this has to be a secret between the two of them.

Campbell nods in earnest understanding.

“And get some rest. You look like hell.”

Before any offense can be registered, Fergus slips out the door and back towards his room a floor above. He’s less restless now. Maybe he’ll even manage to get some sleep.

[princeloww]

The Real St. Judes: Gartloch Hospital - History (abridged)

The Scottish Lunacy Act of 1857 saw the creation of the Glasgow District Lunacy Board. The act, through these boards, aimed to establish and operate "district asylums", which would house patients unable to pay for the already existing "Royal Asylums".

In 1889, the Gartloch Estate was purchased by the City of Glasgow for approximately £8600 (~1 million today). The Glasgow District Lunacy Board were to turn it into an asylum for the mentally ill, and Gartloch Hospital would open in 1896.

In the early 1900s, a tuberculosis sanitorium was opened.

During World War II, Gartloch was temporarily transformed into an Emergency Medical Services Hospital; the psychiatric patients were transferred and housed in other hospitals. After the war, the tuberculosis sanitorium was shut.

Gartloch would fall into the hands of a different board (Board of Management for Glasgow North-Eastern Mental Hospitals), after joining the NHS in 1948.

Although there were 830 beds in 1904, by 1990 there were apparently only 530 - this being just under the amount available when it first opened.

In its last few years, Gartloch would fall under the Greater Glasgow Community and Mental Health Services NHS Trust. In 1996, the hospital officially closed, and was essentially abandoned, until 2003, when plans to turn Gartloch into a village began.

Now, there is a village, "Gartloch Village", surrounding the hospital. The main body, the iconic front we see in Donna Franceschild's TOTA, standing derelict and with boarded windows.

Oh, it's also apparently haunted, according to two nurses.

What was the hospital like?

I've nabbed these (like most of the other information - although I cross-referenced the rest (such as the years) from wikipedia and some other archives) from this article on hiddenglasgow.com.

I was born and lived at 2280 Gartloch Rd (East Cottages) of Gartloch Hospital. My Father, Bill Milne was the Bacteriologist at Gartloch Hospital Laboratory. My Mother was Helen and was the hospital hairdresser. My memories of Gartloch are the most wonderful memories ever. We had the most perfect childhood. The children of employees were involved in lots of differant ways. I remember especially the farm. Our house looked onto the busy fields and the Bishop Loch. We spent many happy summers pickinf tatties with the patients. And in the long cold winters, skating on the Bishop Loch. Christmad parties in the hospital involved all the staff, their children and patients. We got to know many of the patients who had been there most of their lives. Some had been admitted the the unit because of ''having a child out of wedlock'' I have so many stories to tell this page is not big enough! I would love to hear from anyone who remembers Gartloch or who lived/worked there.

Pattie Milne [04/02/2004]

I was talking with my gran t'other night about Gartloch (her maw died in there!) and she remembers these two women that used to walk about when she went visiting. One of them was about 4 foot nothing and the other about 6 foot. They walked up and down the hall, not saying a word to each other, but every now and then the taller one would repeatedly slap the little one on the head (that story seemed funnier when my gran told it!).

Crusty [30/01/2004]

There are a few more interesting stories on the linked article, so if you're interested, I recommend you check them out.

Finally: Takin' Over the Asylum (and other pop culture)

Takin' Over the Asylum aired on the 27th of September, 1994. The six-part drama was filmed in a disused wing of Gartloch, while the hospital was still open and functional. The hospital would close only 2 years after the airing of the show.

Gartloch's iconic, gothic towers would play a key role in the show, and be instantly recognisable to any viewer of TOTA.

Although it shut down in 1996, TOTA would not be the only media produced about the hospital. Wikipedia states that a film was produced in 2005, named (appropriately) "Gartloch Hospital", that covered the history of the hospital. This film went on to win an award in 2007, at the Scottish Mental Health Art and Film Festival, for "Best Factual Film".

Although hidden away, Gartloch hospital has an undeniably interesting history. Personal accounts from the hospital seem to paint it as a fun place, where patients and staff seemed to get along. Knowing the horrors of early mental health treatment, and the abuse many would suffer in these sort of places, we can only hope that these accounts are true and create an accurate image of life surrounding the hospital.

And I wrote all this because I really like David Tennant. Good night

Note the decorative peaks on the towers - they are absent from the rest of the photos. They were reportedly removed in the late 1930's.

SOURCES

Very interesting archive that goes into the history of Gartloch: (link) (source of above images)

Timeline and personal memories: (link)

Overview: Wikipedia (gartloch, Takin' Over the Asylum)

[defnot-naurr]

A Series Review/Recommendation-Takin' Over The Asylum(1994)

Starring young David Tennant, who played a precious, chaotic and enthusiastic-minded character, with bipolar disorder-this drama, in my opinion, is truly underrated beyond measure.

The drama begins with a struggling and aspirant middle-aged radio jokey, trying to drag his life along with him, achieve his dearest of all dreams, pay his grandma's television bills, and knock on the doors of random people to bring some sales to his boss as a double-glazing salesman. Eddie McKenna (Ken Scott).

But what will happen when he had to re-establish a hospital radio station at St Jude's? Will the ideas succeed? Or will everything come collapsing down?

Click here to watch the trailer!

Click here to check out the first episode!

"This show did more for mental health than 13 reasons why ever will. Yes there’s some stereotypical stuff in there but it’s surprising how ahead of it’s time it is." -moonpriest8016

"Thank you so much for posting this. I was rattling my brain trying to remember a brilliant comedy/heartfelt series. The only thing that I could recall was a sandy haired man that was a manic DJ. Was googling details and that it wasn't One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. I found it. Brilliant drama, excellentt cast. Thanks for letting me watch this again. Laughs and tears, but mainly laughs." -zoewilding1845

"Inspired is when you believe you can do anything. Manic is when you know it." -Campbell

[dzthenerd490]

File: Deadman Wonderland

TW- Mention of Suicide, Mention of Child Torture

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SCP#: ACD

Code Name: The Bloody Goddess of Sin.

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-ACD is kept in Site-AF within a 24x24 containment cell. SCP-ACD is kept in a metal coffin and sedated with [data expunged] at 8000 mgs. Furthermore, to keep her a collection of lullabies are played in the room at all times to keep her clam, due to the sedatives having various degrees of success depending on the time of day. The metal coffin holding SCP-ACD is connected to several canisters that are connected to the body of SCP-ACD. These canisters take the blood of SCP-ACD and circulate it out of her body and back into it. This process is done to ensure that SCP-ACD is unable to control her blood while also ensuring that it continues to circulate around her body without her dying.

Description: SCP-ACD is an adolescent girl that at the time of containment was 6 years old. She has extremely pale skin, pure white hair, and crimson-colored eyes. SCP-ACD has an unknown parasitic like pathogen in her blood that naturally grows, reproduces, and incubates in her blood. The microscopic organisms in her blood allow her to have access to a nearly unlimited number of anomalous abilities.

Recorded anomalous abilities:

- Physical manipulation of blood

- Transform blood into weapons

- Create fire and ice as well as other elements form blood

-  Cause physical, mental, and biological modifications to others through her blood.

- instant regeneration

- perfect immunity to disease

- perfect immunity to physical damage

- perfect immunity to poison and drugs

- perfect immunity to anomalous objects

- super strength

- super speed

- unlimited blood

- flight

- manipulation of gravity around her

- manipulation of wind pressure around her

- complete manipulation and control of her own body

SCP-ACD is also able to create red crystals out of her blood that are filled with the microscopic organisms. When a living being touches these crystals, the crystal enters their body and gives them a random anomalous ability. The anomalous ability they receive is always based on their blood and is fixed to that ability no matter what. Though SCP-ACD doesn't really have a desire to do this and tends to only do it during testing when requested to.

SCP-ACD's mental state is also extremely fragile as she had been tortured greatly by [data expunged] who of which has been executed. Depending on her mental state is when her power is anomalous abilities are strong or weak, hence why the sedatives used on her don't work all the time.

SCP-ACD was discovered in 2007 when Foundation agents found info on inhumane and anomalous experiments on children at [data expunged]. Mobile Task Force Aphrodite-3: "St. Jude's Hospital" was sent in with the purpose of killing all involved with the experiments and rescuing the children. The mission was mostly a success with until SCP-ACD was discovered and killed half of the MTF units on the mission. The surviving MTF units spent the next 4 hours trying to escape SCP-ACD as she was angered by them and wanted to kill them. She believed that they were also members of [data expunged] and wanted revenge.

The only thing that saved the MTF units was [data expunged] who created a device that made a lullaby for SCP-ACD, keeping her calm. Before [data expunged] could be questioned she quickly warned the MTF units to kill [data expunged] before he escapes, she committed suicide afterwards. The MTF units were able to safely collect SCP-ACD and kill [data expunged] as well as the other members of [data expunged].

Side Note: Apparently [data expunged] had a son named [data expunged]. [data expunged] is currently in [data expunged] school and has no memory of anyone who was involved in the incident. As such he is not considered an information breach hazard and is to be left alone by the Foundation.

SCP-ACD was originally sent to Site-AN where she was tested and experimented with Dr. Egao. Unfortunately, due to Dr. Egao's cruel treatment to her as well as the constant tests he put her through, her mental state suffered greatly leading to several Foundation casualties. SCP-ACD was then sent to Site-AF, and Dr. Egao was to be punished for almost allowing SCP-ACD to cause a Containment breach. However, O5-3 and 05-4 defended him and instead praised him for gaining so much data from SCP-ACD thus he avoided punishment.

Update: 2016 - Mobile Task Force Hades-4 “Bio Rebels” has been added to SCP-ACD’s security force. SCP-ADR-3 has made them immune to SCP-ACD’s anomalous abilities and are unable to be infected by her blood crystals. Furthermore Dr. Talic has requested to become SCP-ACD’s therapist to help her mental state heal and no longer become a threat should a containment breach occurs. The request was accepted right away. 

Dr. Talic is recommending that SCP-ACD meet with SCP-ACY-Α and/or SCP-999 in order to further improve her mental health and become less dangerous to Foundation staff. She has also requested that we create a more humane containment cell as well as a more powerful lullaby devise so that she can be both calm and comfortable. This request is pending.

Update: 2021 - SCP-ACD is currently 20 years old and has been more responsive to Dr. Talic who acts as her regular therapist. Furthermore Dr. Talic’s request was approved back in 2018.

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SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub