Vlad has Pit Rage

So, we all know the idea of Pit Rage. When you are submerged in a Lazarus Pit, you will become insanely mad for a while, and in the Fanon it is permanent.

Well, in Danny Phantom we do know of one other person who was infused with Ectoplasm (aka Lazarus), who had a personality change after his accident, who had years to build up his hatred, who never got the help he needed.

Vald. It's Vlad. Due to a fuckup when making the Proto-Portal, Vlad was blasted with Corrupted Ectoplasm rather than the Pure Stuff, which gave him Pit Rage.

Pit Rage is basically a Chronic Condition, and once Vlad figures out that he needs help while on his whole Redemption Arc (read A Glitch In Time, I beg you), he goes to the Far Frozen to seek their help.

He gets some Medication that helps suppress the Pit Rage, and goes on with his journey of Redemption.

Then, one day while he is wandering through Gotham, he meets a Kid who is seriously I'll. Like, he's almost as Bad as Vlad himself was before he got the Medication he needed!

So, he gets some of his Emergency Medication and has the kid take some. Thankfully it helps him calm down and gets him to stop Shooting Vlad. (He jad been unloading clip after clip into Vlad until he finally calmed down)

Now he needs to take this Kid to Frostbite so he can get his own source of Medication, and the easiest way is to just kidnap him. Not like he was being watched at all, honestly people need to take better care of their Kids.

...

Batman is panicking.

Some Vampire guy just fed Jason some weird drugs that made him calm down significantly and them kidnapped him through a Glowing Green Portal.

Was his son just Drugged and Kidnapped?

I've been reading a lot of DC x DP fics lately and while I adore them, and I enjoy the way Danny and/or Frostbite always seem to be able to help Jason with the pit rage and the left over ectoplasm/Lazarus water in him, I would love love love to see some fics where Jason's Lazarus contamination is treated more as a chronic illness, or as something that has lasting effects on his health even if they can purify the ectoplasm.

Some thoughts I've had about it are:

It can be purified by Jason doesn't have a healthy core, it can't make healthy ectoplasm on its own, only contaminated ectoplasm. So to purify it he has to take meds/consume pure ectoplasm/wear some magic thing that filters it.

Could need regular check ups with Frostbite to track health

Maybe things that trigger pit rage also cause more contaminated ecto to be made/be released into him, so he has to be mindful of triggers even if all the ecto in him atm has been purified

He has faster healing bc of it, but healing is exhausting so having to manage getting hurt not because he can't survive it, but because it'll cost him recovery time/could make him bedridden sometimes

The body often ignores all of the less serious issues when there's a bigger problem, so if the contamination gets fixed maybe it reveals other issues with his health that were hidden by the pits. Like memory/sensory issues, fatigue, etc

There are so many ways it could go, but I just would really love to see it given less of that Magical Cure and more of a chronic/invisible disability feel. We can always use more rep :P

Anyone can use these, but pls pls lemme know if you do cause I'd love to read it!!! I'm also so so down to chat about it!!

Disarm pt. 19

Words: 3K

Summary: Edward takes their little landlord problem into his own hands.

Tags: chronically ill reader, violence, anti-social edward, riddler edward, riddler trial

Warnings: violence!!!! violent thinking author's note: sorry for the long delay everyone! hope you like it.

Chapter 19- We'll Crucify The Insincere Tonight

As Edward took in the scene before him it seemed like time slowed down.

The living room was a mess. There had obviously been a struggle. Pens, pencils and brushes strewn across the floor with shards of broken pottery in the mix. And blood. 

A lot of blood. 

Where is she? Where— Y/N was sitting on the couch. Oh—thank god, he thought as he felt his heart unclench for the first time since he heard her voicemail. She was here and that meant she was safe. 

Knowing that she was okay, he turned his attention to the most alarming thing in the apartment.

Y/N’s landlord. Trevor White, age 43, owner of multiple properties and a 2004 white Chevy Impala. Lives at 1525 Baker St, and has several arrests on his record as well as multiple properties all under different fake business names— was unconscious and duct taped to a chair. 

If it hadn’t been for Edward’s previous thorough research on this man, he probably wouldn’t have been able to recognize him. His face was completely battered, bloody, and swollen with bruises. 

Edward studied Trevor’s face carefully. Based on the freshness and severity of these wounds, he most likely  will be knocked out for perhaps another hour. That gives me some time to get him out of here but not much. 

Did… Did Y/N do this? Edward looked back at her and noticed a roll of duct tape at her feet. She must have done this to him, he realized with a start. 

His perfect Y/N, always so sweet and loving, had beaten this man to a pulp. And tied him up expertly! Edward felt a swell of pride towards his beloved but it was overshadowed by a sick feeling in his stomach. 

What did he do to her to make her react this way? He had some ideas based on this man’s history and reputation and he didn’t like any of them. He would find out soon enough but right now he needed to act quickly before Trevor woke up. Glancing back at Y/N, he noticed she was crying. 

Oh, shit. 

She was breathing rapidly and tapping her hands together in an erratic pattern as she cried. 

She’s having a panic attack, Edward realized. 

It was understandable. He had almost had one when he killed the Mayor— his first kill. After he had struck the man, both of them had fallen to the floor.  He anxiously watched him twitch and then saw the Mayor finally still. It was then that he knew with certainty that he was dead. 

In that moment the adrenaline coursing through his body was almost too much. The knowledge that there was truly no going back from that moment was absolutely nerve-wracking. For a brief second his intense feelings almost flooded over into panic, but thankfully euphoria had taken its place. 

With Y/N, it seemed that that hadn’t happened. Not everyone is cut out for cleansing the corrupt. He quickly kneeled down in front of her, regretting not comforting her as soon as he had walked in the door. Stupid. He had snapped into damage control mode at the sight of the body— old habits die hard. 

“Hey.. hey…. breathe…”  he instructed, taking hold of her hands gently. He rubbed patterns into the back of her palms as he tried to get her to focus on him. Her hands, he noted, had a fair amount of blood on them.

Looking directly into her eyes, he put his hands on her shoulders and asked softly, “Talk to me baby… what happened?”

Y/N kept trying to talk to him, but couldn’t get the sentences out as she cried. Edward felt the rage in the pit of stomach growing, as he focused on calming her down. Once the adrenaline rush was over and her breathing slowed, she was able to explain to him what had happened.

Edward sat with a carefully controlled face as she explained. He needed to stay calm and strong for her but each detail caused the inky black rage inside of him to swell. 

Threatening. 

Eviction. 

Tried to force her to- 

He forced his emotions down at that point, and pulled Y/N to him. He held her tightly, as he spoke. He could hear himself saying all the correct words, reassuring her over and over that she did the right thing, that she was defending herself, that he would take care of everything. 

He felt like he was outside of himself, watching as he helped her clean the blood off and get into comfortable clothes. On the outside he was perfectly comforting, staying with her as she crashed after the panic wore off, not leaving until she was asleep. Inside was a different matter. 

He tried to force her to sleep with him. He put his hands on her, he thought as he closed the door to her bedroom with shaking hands. 

Dispose of him in an unnoticeable way? That option has been the most merciful one, and it was now off the table. Trevor White is a man most undeserving of mercy.  

Edward was going to torture this man within in an inch of his life. Then I am going to kill him in front of everyone. Make an example of him. 

Confronted with the sight of Trevor again in the living room, Edward was hit with a visceral wave of hate. He wrapped his hands around his throat and stood there, pressing his thumbs against his windpipe. His inner voice spoke then, No. This would be too kind of a death for him. Despite knowing that, it took everything in him to not strangle him to death right then and there. Instead he picked up the roll of duct tape from the floor and approached the vile creature. 

He pulled out a long stretch of it and slapped it against Trevor’s mouth. He made sure to go around his head several times before ripping it off and securing the ends.  

He paused for a moment before taking more tape and securing it around his eyes as well. For good measure. 

He chewed on his lower lip while running over the possible outcomes for this situation in his mind. Suppose someone had seen him enter the apartment or the altercation? No. If no one had called the GCPD by this point, then most likely no one had seen.

He had wanted to kill her landlord before but had graciously chosen not to because of the unnecessary attention it might draw to Y/N. And what had he done with his grace? Spat it back in my face. Now your death is unavoidable.

He needed to get this scumbag out of here to dispose of him without it being noticeable. Rolled up carpet? Nothing in here that would work. Garbage bags? Need to go and get the kind that won’t rip and he might wake up in the mean time…

Edward eyed the closet. Suitcase or duffel bag? Trevor wasn’t that large of a man, he could make it fit.

Anything to get him out of this apartment.  —---------------

Y/N woke up late the next day, the emotions of the previous evening had really taken it out of her. She noticed right away that Eddie wasn’t in the room with her anymore. Stumbling out of bed, she made her way down the hall to the living room, hoping desperately that he was in there. Damn. To her disappointment it was empty, but she also found that it was clean. There were no signs of the previous evening to be found anywhere. Her desk was meticulously put back in place, there was no blood on the carpet, and her broken paintbrush holder had been replaced with a mug— there was something on it. As she inspected it she noticed that Edward’s question mark logo had been painted onto it with drippy black paint. The thought of Edward carefully painting a cup for her made her giggle, some of her anxiety about the situation easing. Still– she wished she knew where he was.

She had hoped to apologize about the mess she had created and the state she had been in when he had come home. It was a little embarrassing to think about now. 

She had never meant for any of yesterday's events to happen let alone give Edward another thing to have to take care of. Another person to kill. Does this make you an accomplice? She supposed it did. 

She knew that he was going to kill him, obviously, and she didn’t feel bad about that. Her landlord had made her feel powerless, he took advantage of her. She shuddered as she remembered him against her. It was probable that she wasn’t the only person he had done that to as well. Truly, he was someone that would be better off dead. However it usually wasn’t her that was in charge of weeding out the corrupt in Gotham— that was Eddie’s forte. It had been a definite shock to her system for sure. 

Despite how shocking everything had been for her, Edward had been so steadfast. He had been so kind to her, and he didn’t seem angry at all at what she had done. In fact— he had seemed surprisingly calm throughout the whole ordeal. Turning to the kitchen, a card on the living room table caught her eye. It was another vintage card, it’s edges yellowed with time. It had an owl on it that said, “Owl Always Love You.” She smiled as she grabbed it to read the contents. Darling, I am on a run to drop some garbage off at the dump! I will be back in a few hours, let me know if you want me to grab anything while I am away. Love Eddie.Around the note there were strange symbols arranged in straight lines. She recognized them from his notebooks and videos. A cipher? That was probably the real message then. She supposed it made sense to not leave a note about killing someone laying around. She sighed at the card. She had never been very good at solving puzzles but if she wanted to know where he was she was gonna have to solve it. —-------------- An hour or so later, Y/N had it almost figured out. It had taken her a lot longer than she thought it would but Eddie didn’t need to know that. Surrounded by several mugs of tea, notebooks, books and sheets of paper, the previously clean living room was now a mess again. When she filled in the last letter she threw her pencil down in relief. “HA!” she shouted, to no one. “I GOT YOU! I AM SMART! I KNOW THINGS!” She stopped then, becoming self-aware at how ridiculous she was being and settled down to read it. I am taking the rat to my place to take care of him. Shouldn’t take more than 12 hours. Tune in to the news for a new video at 1 PM. She checked the clock. “Shit!!” It was already 1:04. She grasped the remote and turned the TV on. There was Eddie– but as the Riddler. And there was Trevor, now awake and terrified. Alongside the screen, the chat was blowing up. Edward’s followers were extremely excited that he was back. The room they were in was dark and the only light was focused on Trevor, duct taped to a wooden chair. There was duct tape over his mouth, but his eyes were so wide with terror they looked like they would pop from his head. Behind both of them was the Riddler’s familiar green backdrop with his logo painted on it in drippy white paint. “Hello citizens of Gotham” The Riddler breathed from somewhere in the shadows, “Some of you may have thought me gone but I am just biding my time.”

He stepped out in front of the camera, “Everything is going according to MY timeline,” he explained,  “Soon we will have Gotham cleansed, but we still have much to do.” He was so close to the screen as he was talking, the camera focusing in on the green of his eyes behind the mask. After a moment of pause, he walked back to where Trevor was forcibly seated. “For our cleanse of Gotham, we have someone fit to stand trial!” he exclaimed excitedly, erupting into giggles. Trevor, on the other hand, screamed underneath the tape and struggled to get out of his bindings. The Riddler just continued to talk over him, unconcerned with his suffering. “Trevor White is a typical Gotham landlord.” He rested his hand on Trevor’s back and Trevor flinched away from him. “Nowhere to run Trevor,” The Riddler chided before continuing. “He lets his buildings fall into disrepair, scams his tenants out of their money and collects his checks for doing nothing! He’s a parasite that feeds off of those that have no recourse. Truly the lowest of the low.” 

The Riddler paused for a moment, watching the chat idly before continuing. 

“The city has many reports about this man! And yet decides to do nothing!” With that The Riddler pulled a handful of what appeared to be papers out of his front breast pocket.  He waved them in front of Trevor’s face, tossing them one by one into his lap as he read them off. 

 “They’re all right here!” He exclaimed, sounding almost giddy. “Rats! Mold! Physical coercion and oh— what’s this?” 

The Riddler paused and gripped Trevor’s chin, forcing him to look directly into the camera.  “Sexual coercion,” he finished, his voice low and feral. 

Letting go of Trevor’s face, he wiped his gloved hand off on his shirt. “Yes.. All of that seems pretty terrible, but I can see you in the chat asking— Now, why would The Riddler occupy himself with such low level scum?” he asked while pacing the room slowly. He stopped in front of the camera, the glint of the light reflecting off of his clear glasses. 

“It’s because I am cleansing Gotham completely,” he whispered, voice reverent, “Corruption comes in many forms— from the highest city councilmen, to the lowest of landlords. And I am here to tell you..” he paused to lean in close, so close that Y/N could see his pupils, blown wide.

“That not a single one of you is safe from me.” 

He straightened back up to face the man on trial, “Now back to you Trevor” he spat his name with disgust, “Let me explain to you how this goes.”

His voice was lighter now, excited for the carnage that was sure to come. 

“This is a trial for your life. We are going to play a game!” Trevor tried harder to get out of his bindings at this announcement but to no avail. The Riddler laughed at his attempts, “Oh why the worry? I’m going to make it easy on you! You just have to answer one question and I’ll give you 30 seconds to do it.” The Riddler ripped the duct tape off of Trevor’s face harshly and he gasped for air. A split second later and he started screaming, “PLEASE, HELP SOMEBODY HELP.”

Y/N couldn’t look away. Surprisingly, The Riddler started screaming too, his scream drowning out his captive’s easily. Trevor stopped, startled by The Riddler’s outburst. “See? No one can hear you,” he huffed, “Now I’m being kind and trying to explain this to you and you’re being a complete idiot,” the Riddler continued, the annoyance clear in his voice, “I asked you if you understood. I am not going to ask you again.” 

He was so commanding as the Riddler, downright terrifying if she was being honest. She loved it. “Yes, yes I understand,” Trevor cried. “Very good!” 

Y/N could hear the smile under his mask. 

“The question is, what name is an anagram of ‘axe an elder’?” 

Axe an elder? Y/N didn’t understand this line of questioning at all. Trevor only lasted for 10 seconds before pleading for his life again.

The Riddler interrupted him, “ You’re time is running out!” he reminded him. “Only fifteen seconds left!” 

“I don’t know, okay?? I don’t know, I don't know!” 

The Riddler tutted disapprovingly, “Unfortunately, ‘I don’t know wasn’t the answer.” As his captive screamed for his life, The Riddler passed his verdict. 

“Oh Trevor— the answer was Alexander— your OWN middle name. You really are just as stupid as I thought you were. Too bad!”

He pulled a long stretch of duct tape from a roll he produced from his jacket, “Ugh— enough of your noise,” he groaned as he retaped his mouth shut. Then the Riddler disappeared off screen as Trevor sobbed against his restraints. He came back with what looked like a large metal cage filled with plastic clear tubing. The contraption was filled with rats. It was similar to the one he had used on the Police Commisioner. Y/N waited for it to be put across his face but The Riddler did not do that. Instead, she watched as he fastened the cage in between Trevor’s legs and— oh. She felt her nausea rise when she realized where the rats were going to go. She didn’t have the stomach to watch the rest. She turned off the TV and flopped onto the couch. She had to hand it to Eddie, he certainly was creative with his retribution. 

She thought to herself about his card. It he had written that note sometime last night or even early this morning, that meant that he would probably be home very soon. 

The Riddler— who had every news station playing his video, was coming home to her. The man that every lowlife in Gotham feared, was hers and hers alone. 

She was so excited to see him. 

Next

On the topic of empathy, I dunno why but it kinda seems weird to me that like, people think you need to be able to put yourself in someone’s shoes or whatever to be a good person when like, why should being able to feel someone else’s pain be a required motivator to do good? It almost seems kinda shallow to be motivated by empathy than actively choosing to do good.

I agree, however I try to - at least on public platforms - refrain from calling it "shallow" on the account that someone with empathy might take that as me stating that they are bad / wrong for being motivated by an experience they can't control and / or that their good behavior is no longer "good" or worse is now "bad" because its motivated by a desire for relief. I don't necessarily think it is healthy, but I will never genuinely be mad at someone doing the correct thing for reasons that are as simple as "I felt REALLY bad and couldn't not do something". Can that be a slippery slope to some really dangerous self sacrificial behavior that I personally find annoying? Yeah. Is it missing the entire point (in my opinion)? Yeah. Is it wrong or the problem to address here more than, you know, the actual problem? Nah.

Like ask me this on my personal blog or if you knew me irl to my face and I'd probably go raging on about it cause I bitch much more openly on those areas with an understanding that I say much more extreme and un-nuanced takes than I actually mean cause it takes too much effort and energy for me to curate and acknowledge that my opinion and view on things are probably inherently skewed and all.

Do I think its better to do things because you understand the system is broken and just on sole principle of thinking that shouldn't be a thing? Yeah, but of course I do - thats how I exist and I have a huge fucking ego. So of course I think that and of course that is my genuine opinion. And me acknowledging that "of course I do" doesn't lessen that that is my genuine opinion.

But I also think its entirely dysfunctional to actually pit people who are doing good motivated by empathy against people who are doing good just because of principle / an understanding of the broken system. We're both doing the same thing, does the drive really matter? Plus honestly, if my very very limited experiences of empathy tell me anything, people who are cursed with chronic empathy honestly probably are chronically struggling to cope with that, so I don't think it is wrong or bad to be motivated by your own needs and ability to cope.

Like HONESTLY, I'd be a huge fucking hypocrite if I knocked doing things for "selfish reasons" or people having "shallow reasons" for doing things cause *motions to self in NPD and ASPD* I do a lot of things for shallow reasons and selfish reasons.

There's nothing wrong with looking out for yourself, and theres nothing wrong with looking out for yourself more than others (to an extent, looking at any billionaires there) cause not everyone has the resources and ability - mentally, physically, or financially - to be motivated for the "right reasons".

To each as they can give, to all as they need. If all someone can give currently is a HEALTHY amount of assistance driven by a need to cope with their empathy themselves? Thats fine. Thats respectable.

That said, anyone tearing their arms off to "do the right thing" and parading around like a hero, those people piss me off. They need help and are mentally ill and struggling, but quite frankly, being nice to people like that and having functional coping and communication with them is far far far far far above my emotional self restraint and control and entirely a job for Riku or a protector in our system.

I really fucking hate overt performative behavior and my hate is not "functional", but ya know.

Anyways, usually I'd just go "lol yeah honestly" or "lol right" because thats my opinion on the matter, but due to the following we have on here and respect for this being a little more (not super) serious of a platform than people in my casual circle irl and my blog, I try to keep and voice my more nuanced thoughts on a topic than what I feel out of principle of dedication to my goals and responsibility as someone with anything of a platform.

I recognize that posts like this will reach much more people than my personal blog and that some people on here value what I have to say, so I have an inherent responsibility to at least try to leave room for nuance and not perpetuate inter-community discourse that would just slow down the core purpose of - ya know, the shit I actually want.

-XIV

Is it ever mentioned in canon or any official lore that Amanda has bpd or is it a personal headcanon and if so would you be okay to talk about it? I'm intrigued

ok ask of all time! first off no its never canonically stated in saw that she has bpd, however i would say that its more than just a headcanon, as she comes off extremely coded as borderline, to me and a lot of other people! (even the wiki alludes to her bpd)

im gona go fully in depth under the cut!

so to qualify for the diagnosis of bpd you need at least 5 out of 9 diagnostic criteria ^_^

- chronic feelings of emptiness

- emotional instability in reaction to day to day events (intense episodic sadness, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days)

- frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment

- identity disturbance with a consistent lack of unstable self image or sense of self

- impulsive behavior in at LEAST two forms (sex, spending money, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating)

- inappropriate, intense anger, or difficulty controlling anger

- unstable relationships which present in the form of "splitting" , where the individual will view another in extreme love or extreme hate, and this can happen within a very short time period. idealization vs devaluation

- recurrent suicidal behavior, threats to ones self, and/or self harming tendencies

- stress related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms

bpd is often brought on by abuse during childhood, causing an individual to lack the ability to regulate their own emotions, essentially having no emotional skin, as well as a constant struggle to maintain relationships

I'm sure looking through this you can recognize a lot of Amanda's in these criteria ! but ill still go thru some examples because i find it really intriguing how clearly she exhibits these symptoms in ways that could have demonized her but i believe didn't, and actually served to make her more sympathetic and appreciated by the fandom!

saw 3 is undeniably one of the best movies to showcase her having bpd, she's erratic, sobbing one moment, lashing out the next, gentle with john and then screaming at him towards the end, when she's been pushed to her breaking point. the whole movie is john 'testing' her, however its more like he's doing everything he can to trigger her.

he pits her and lynn against one another. amanda clearly has an unhealthy attachment to john, she practically worships him and loves him very fiercely, and for a good long time they had only had each others company. this isolation i believe caused amanda to even further fall into her idealized love of john. throughout the films you never really see amanda lash out or speak badly to/about john until the climax of saw3.

something bpd can cause people to do is 'split' on individuals they're around. i believe saw 3 shows amanda's splitting pretty clearly, she obviously idealizes john, and loves him dearly, but after repeatedly telling her to leave, defending lynn, and telling her she isn't needed, amanda snaps and splits on john, she sees him as everything she hates, everything she's been putting onto lynn up until now (because isn't it easier to hate someone who is just an intrusion? someone who didn't 'save' you?) she lashes out, and even though she's clearly raging and livid, you can see how much pain she's in. its honestly so painful to watch that scene, seeing how desperate she is for any kind of relief from what she's experiencing.

another very big tell for me was how her self harm was handled within the movie. a lot of pop culture will show self harm as an extension of depression, a self hatred that people take out on themselves, which is true for a lot of people! but with bpd it can be a lot different. you notice how every time amanda goes to self harm its after a major blow out with lynn and john? she redirects the hatred and violence she wanted to take out on lynn on herself, and afterwards seems much more calm and less agitated! this is because, with bpd, people have an extremely hard time regulating their emotions. unfortunately self harm can self medicate this experience, and so amanda cutting herself, or stabbing her hand with a screwdriver w/ev, all that works to calm her down. to be clear its a super unhealthy way of coping with this facet of bpd and there are many much more healthy ways! however for a lot of people they dont realize this, and turning to self harm is all they think to do. i especially understand it in amandas shoes, as she's surrounded by violence and self injury so regularly, the concept its bad and taboo feels like it could kind of nullify in her brain.

also naturally i think amanda is incredibly suicidal and risk taking, which can be shown very strongly in 2 and 3. i believe her part in the gas house was an act of self harm, and an attempt at retraumatizing herself. it really came off to me like she was seeking the experience she had after she survived the reverse bear trap, which i can only assume left her very 'clear headed' and with a kind of euphoria, from the adrenaline of survival. which obviously she crashed from hard, and john was clearly in the wings ready to swoop in and 'help' her....

i cant exactly comment much on the later movies as i havent watched them yet (however i'm mainly taking the first 3 movies into consideration with amanda as the movies were supposed to end there anyways) but i do believe that amandas heroin use + her risk taking behavior in regards to jills clinic etc are also by products of her untreated bpd. basically her whole story just reads like she continuously was given bad cards, that only pushed her in worse and worse directions. the abuse from her father and mother, the wrongful incarceration, the drug use, the trauma of the saw trap, being recruited as an apprentice to jigsaw, all of this only furthered her from any shred of mental health help that she desperately needed, and its really fucked up and sad!!

if you have any more specific questions about any of this or would like me to go more in depth on my thoughts on any of the 9 criteria and how it correlates to amanda, pls feel free to ask!! (honestly anyone feel free to ask) i know this is probably super rambly, its just such a massive topic considering how complex and multifaceted both amanda and bpd as a topic can be! BUT I HOPE, THAT THIS MAKES SENSE!!

The Picture of Health (Chapter 3)

Title: The Picture of Health chap.2

Prompt: Whump: Sickbed or deathbed (There’s gonna be wuv in there too ;) )

A good ol’ 5+1 fic

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Chronic illness (non-specific), vomiting, discussion of feeling ill, pooping (it’s not very graphic), Jask trying to get through it by himself.

Author's: thank you for all the love this is getting, especially over on AO3 - I'm living for your comments.

[[MORE]]

Well, shit.

 

Jaskier had done it again. Listened to his heart instead of his head – it was like that was the only option around here and he was sick of it.

 

Huddling behind a tree as black as the night that engulfed him, Jaskier clutched his lute to his chest and tried not to breathe. He listened, straining to hear the horrific clicking and whirring noise of the monster that gnashed its teeth in rage at Geralt. He swallowed, resisting the urge to sigh in relief at the grunts of his Witcher and the slicing of his sword.

Stay quiet Geralt had said.

Stay quiet or you’re dead.

One shuffle, one breath too loud and it’s over.

It didn’t matter that it was the darkest pits of night for this particular beast. And of course, Geralt could see perfectly fine whilst Jaskier could see fuck all.

 

The Witcher had warned him this contract would be particularly brutal. He was surprised Geralt had even let him come (well, surprised he’d managed to get about half way before Geralt realised he’d been followed.)

So, naturally, Jaskier had gone ignoring absolutely every single one of his body’s warnings, had decided this would be an absolute picnic. A treasure trove of lyrics. A tale for the ages.

And now, he was dying.

 

Sweat was building on his brow, he clutched the neck of filavandrel’s lute so tight it could snap (Why did he even bring it!?) When he realised, with abject horror, that he needed to shit. Using the word “needed” very loosely, as in, it was going to happen whether Jaskier wanted it to or not.

 

Fuck.

 

This was how he was going to meet his end, head ripped off with his breeches round his ankles in the midst of a shit.

 

Jaskier cringed as his lute knocked against the tree. He tilted his head, listening as the pants went down, but the sounds of fighting continued.

 

Thank Melitele’s tits it was practically silent. He was doing it, and he wasn’t dead.

He finished, and by some miracle, he still wasn’t dead.

 

He paused again, sagging in relief at the monsters waning cries and the steady slice of Geralt’s sword.

 

But then he felt it, that familiar swirl in his stomach, before he even managed to lace up his breeches. The nausea churned quick and harsh in his gut, and before Jaskier even had the chance to will his body into silence, he retched.

Loud. Clear. And cutting through the night like a knife.

The sound was horrific and there was no way around it.

 

The beast was in front of him, screaming, all spindly legs and scythes and reeking of death, before he could even suck air back into his lungs.

 

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, preparing to meet his end when the thing lurched forward—

 

He opened his eyes to the heavy thud of it’s head meeting the woodland floor, leaves sticking to tacky blood as it rolled to a stop.

 

Jaskier couldn’t remember how to breathe before Geralt was there, in his face and screaming. Jaskier knew it, he knew he’d been an idiot to come along, regardless of whether or not he’d felt ill in the first place. He nodded along, he had been reckless, and he felt beyond awful.

He couldn’t help himself as he flinched away from Geralt’s raging.

Geralt noticed that. Of course he did.

He stopped, a pained look flitting across his features.

He seemed to take a minute, take stock of their surroundings.

The spatter of the creature’s black blood across Jaskier’s overwhelmingly pale face and shirt.

His body shaking hard and twitching with some unseen cause of pain.

And the pile of… literal shit and vomit that surrounded him.

 

“Jask…?” He started. “Are you…” Concern overtaking every element of his being, it was a strange look on Geralt.

 

Jaskier’s head started shaking profusely of its own accord.

No. He wasn’t alright. He was far from it. And he knew Geralt could smell the pain and the fear and the hopelessness, and the disgustingness of everything else.

 

“Fuck.” Geralt muttered. Jaskier let out a strained laugh.

 

He wasn’t really with it enough to be excited at the prospect of being scooped up in Geralt’s arms. Any other occasion and it would have been positively swoon-worthy, but he couldn’t even hold his own head up. Instead, he nestled into the crook of Geralt’s neck and neither of them addressed the tears flowing freely or pet names uttered.

Josh,

Covid, or rather this pandemic, has taken so much from me. And yes, I do feel sorry for myself. And there's nothing wrong with that because frankly, if more people felt sorry for people like me, we would all have more of a life right now.

The virus itself sucks and is probably far more damaging than we currently give it credit for. But the people are worse. The majority of people are happy to allow anyone with a health problem to shield at home and infinitely rot, so long as they can live life as though the pandemic never happened. They don't care that I'm not on hospice care, bed bound or hooked up to a million machines. They don't care that two years ago I was living like them; that they couldn't have picked me out in the street. My home is my prison now and I should just accept that. After all, we the 6 million are the minority.

I think that if we ever get through this pandemic, I will never trust or care for people the same again. I used to think that most people were decent, with just a few bad eggs. Now, you're a cunt and a danger to my life until proven otherwise.

This pandemic has taken my empathy and leniency. I don't care for those who are ill if I saw them making poor decisions that caused it. I don't look the other way when I see people breaking the rules or putting others at risk, instead I make a mental note of their selfishness. I see people I used to care about at pubs and clubs and restaurants and I wish long covid on them. I see people recover from Covid and a part of me is bitter that they never learnt their lesson. I want them to suffer. I want them to regret they ever set foot out their front door. I want them to feel as helpless and trapped as I do.

Josh, I'm training to be a doctor. How can I have such a cold heart? I guess that's what happens when it seems it's been broken by 60 million people all at once.

This pandemic has taken my ability to feel much at all. I am so chronically, severely hopeless and angry that there's nothing but palpable numbness. I read headline after headline of ways the government is making my survival ever more difficult, and I just sigh and roll my eyes. I am a bottomless pit of rage. There is so much in here, yet there is no pile up to see. Sometimes my chest aches. Often I feel an overwhelming urge to lash out or set buildings alight. But I don't feel the power of anger that I used to feel. There's just an empty, all consuming hatred of this reality.

This pandemic has taken my family from me. My grandparents go out and live their lives and I can hardly blame them; i don't rate their chances against Covid so they might as well enjoy their time. But that makes them a risk to me, and their hearing impairments mean I cannot visit them safely with a mask. It's been three years since I spent Christmas with them; I could go if they swore to isolate for two weeks first, but I just know my aunt, uncle and cousins wouldn't. My company isn't worth that to them. My parents work for the NHS and see patients every day; the past two years have been filled with fleeting visits in car parks with takeaway McDonalds and all the windows down. This Christmas, we exchanged presents at a motorway service station halfway between us.

I've lost three friends so far to Covid, because asking them to keep me safe was too much. They're hardly a loss, but the situation hurts to know that all these years, my life had so little value to them. The healthy people don't understand. "It's not that deep" they say, "they just want to live their lives". But it is. Actions in this pandemic reflect our core values. They may want to live their lives, I'd just like to survive mine a little longer.

I can't even make more friends. I started this uni course with the clear understanding that I would have to choose my health over my social life time and again. And I do. I watch as everyone else gets to know each other and spends time together, at the places where they catch covid and bring it again and again into lectures. I am barely safe to learn, let alone find human connection.

At 18 years old I saved up for a plane ticket and flew to the USA alone. Finishing college really let me learn what freedom was. I've been on spontaneous trips up and down the country. I used to catch trains and buses so often and loved how small it made the world feel. I loved making passing visits to cities during changeovers, becoming part of the hustle and bustle. Watching people rushing around me, taking in the departure boards and learning how to almost flawlessly manage the tube networks. I was free and I could go anywhere and do anything.

Now, my world really is small. It's the size of a one-bedroom flat; 4 rooms to be precise. Without university or medical appointments, I would stay in here for months. I spend my weeks excited to finish my work, only to realize when I reach the weekend that I have nothing to do to reward myself. At best there are films, TV shows, games and books. But they're all good at giving me a headache. Nowadays, I get most of my serotonin from ordering a takeaway desert once a fortnight. We do sometimes go out, but we have to be mindful of people. We walk around the nearby parks and graveyard and beaches. But there's only so much grass and sand and ocean you can see before it becomes dull. Some days I sleep in even though I'm not tired, simply because it's an easier way to pass the time.

Don't get me wrong, after two years I have learnt to appreciate some of the smaller things. I remember a time when I would have been thrilled to hear I finally had a flat with my partner and that we had our own rats too. I'm insanely grateful for the progress I've made and the little family I have. I try my absolute best not to take them for granted; I'm so scared I'll lose them as well.

The pandemic has also changed my perspective on my memories. There was a time, for around a year, when I had a really fucking good time that all came to an abrupt end when you died. Before covid, I used to resent that it had ended. That my depression, which was essentially in remission, had come back to consume me. All I wanted was to get back to being happy. Now though? Of course I wish to be happy. But I look back on that specific time and I'm just overwhelmed with joy and appreciation that it happened at all. I'm so glad I got to live a little bit of life before all this, and I'm honestly happy that I did it with so much naivety about what was to come. I had and did and felt some amazing things, and I can't express how grateful I am for that. That's not to say I'm glad for the pandemic though, as I'm sure in another life I could have learnt to appreciate these things in a less damaging way.

I don't know where I'm going with this, exactly, Josh. I'm just being honest where I'm at. Maybe one day in the distance future I will able to look back at this with relief that life has improved. It would make a nice change; most of my reminiscing now involves remembering the early pandemic when covid wasn't this out of control and people still wanted to help one another. I never thought my life would become this bad and now honestly, Josh, I see no way out. I used to think there was a light at the end of the tunnel, but now it's faded to black. I'm resigned to living in this prison for the foreseeable future, in the hopes that one day I will be thankful I spared the health I do have and be able to start living again. Maybe I'll be 25, or 35 or 45. Who knows. One thing I know is that I am not the same person I would have become without this pandemic. And I don't think I'm ever going to be the same again.

Now, Josh, if you could just pull some strings with the guy upstairs and get him to sort this shit out, that'd be grand.

Love always you lucky, plague-free guy,

C

Dark Waters || Leah & Skylar

Timing: January 4th, 2021

Location: Nic and Skylar’s Home

Tagging: @phoenixleah & @theskyeandsea

Description: Leah wants to understand why Skylar’s behaving this way. Skylar gives her a Lift

Warnings: Drug use, addiction, depression, chronic illness, drowning 

Something had to be done about Skylar, and Leah would be damned if she wasn’t going to be a part in helping. Ever since the moment she healed her at the library, Skylar was different, isolated, and standoff-ish. And maybe it was true that Leah didn’t know her enough to care so much, but with the only experiences they ever had together being on all accounts pretty traumatic, there was a sort of invisible bond there. Skylar could claim all she wanted that they weren’t friends, but Leah knew better; it was as if they were closer to family. Skylar said she had a way to help Leah understand, which to her just meant she was finally willing to reach out and accept some help. It was a little unexpected, but it was definitely good news. She let out a breath as she walked the final steps to Skylar’s front door, remembering how disheveled and out of it the girl seemed the last time she dropped her off here. After shooting a quick text to Skylar that she was there, she knocked on the door gently to reiterate. As the door opened, she tried not to let herself react at what met her. Skylar looked like a shadow of her former self, and it brought back flashes of the bloodied, injured girl on her library’s reading table. “Skye”, she said, pressing her lips together. “How have you been?”

Gripping the side of the sink, Skylar splashed some water on her face. Her skin didn’t look right, it was dark and patchy and when she pressed it, she knew that she should probably feel some kind of pain but… Thanks to the Bliss, she didn’t. Thanks to the Bliss and the shavings of blue mushrooms that she’d carefully scraped, she was doing just fine. The world was a cloud of nothingness and everything at once. There was sensation without pain, thoughts without meaning, it was all just a blur and she was being pulled along, like a boat without a rudder. She’d been able to hide it from her new roommate, had written off her giggling fits as looking at something funny on her phone, and taken to holing up in her room to avoid Rio. He wouldn’t bother her in her room. And right now, he was… Well, she wasn’t sure where he was. Her phone buzzed against her leg and she pulled out the device, staring at the screen for a moment before comprehending what she was looking at. Someone… Leah? Leah was at the door?

Confused, Skylar grabbed her hearing aids from where they sat on the bathroom counter and slipped them in. She made her way to the door, Dundee trailing behind her as she padded barefoot across the cold floor. Pulling the door open a crack, Skylar blinked for a moment before shaking her head. “Why are you here? Leave me alone, Leah.”

In just a few weeks, Skylar had managed to collapse into herself, leaving a pale, sunken, and bruised mess behind. The more Leah looked at her, the more disheartening it became. She got a small glimpse of an animal behind her, and a small smirk grace her features for a moment. At the very least, Skylar wasn’t completely alone all the time here. The thought barely offered relief, though. “I’m here because I care about you”, she said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. I’m here because I wanted to make sure you were still alive. She blinked, looking to the side. “And because, well…”, she let out a breath, unsure as to why she felt nervous. She was here to help her friend, rejection be damned, so why was that feeling in the pit of her stomach so gnawing and distraction. “You implied that there are ways you could make me understand what you’re feeling, Skylar. So make me understand.” Once Skylar knew she understood, she had to accept help, right? That was why she hadn’t been accepting help so far. This had to be the solution, whatever it was.

Blinking at Leah’s words, Skylar did her best to process what was happening. She still didn’t know how to react to the woman’s presence, here, at her doorstep. The words she said, they were words, but they didn’t make sense. Why would she be here? Why would she care? At Leah’s mention of ways to understand, Skylar remembered what she’d typed in a fit of hasty rage. Gabe had slipped a rolled cigarette into her pocket one night, when she’d broken down in tears. He’d said that it was on the house, that she should use it when someone wanted to understand. She’d thought it was just weed, that his words hadn’t meant anything at all. But the scent of the lightly wrapped cigarette was different and she had a feeling that there was something else about it. Which is why she’d said that. That’s why she’d written that, right? She didn’t really know, didn’t understand. It was hard for her to keep track of much of anything these days.

“You don’t really want to understand. But, I can show you.” Skylar said quietly. How could Leah possibly understand? How could this… Lift, how could Lift ever make her understand? But, she wanted to try. Because maybe then, Leah would finally leave her alone. Maybe then, she’d know just how much this place had broken her. 

“I do want to understand”, Leah insisted, shaking her head slowly. “Especially if it’ll get you to accept some help.” Maybe Skylar would resent that part, but whether she liked it or not, she needed help. It was clear just by looking at her that she wouldn’t last on this path much longer. “Can I come in?” she asked, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. She’d never even set foot in Skylar’s house, when she really thought about it. The only time she’d been here was to drop the woman off a few times. Was Skylar right, then, in her insistence that they weren’t friends? She couldn’t be. Friendships were more than a length of time or how often you saw someone. The two of them had been through a great deal of trauma together, and it made them connected whether Skylar liked it or not. Still, she was curious about this change of heart that her friend seemed to be having. “How do you want to show me?” she wondered, looking around as if the something that Skylar had might appear in front of her.

Backing away from the door, Skylar let Leah follow her inside. The house was neat and tidy, kept that way out of necessity now that Rio was living with her. She didn’t want him asking questions, wondering why she was around the house more often. She didn’t need to have that conversation, just as long as she could make sure that the lights stayed on. “You… should stay here.” She said, gesturing to the couch for the other woman to sit down. She didn’t want Leah to see where she kept her things, where she stashed the needles and the empty vials of Bliss. Dundee hopped up onto the couch, expression unblinking as Skylar made her way back to her room.

Pulling open the drawer, Skylar took the box that she’d taped to the underside of the drawer, rummaging around through the pills and the vials and the small baggie of dried mushrooms until her fingers brushed against the small rolled cigarette. She quickly replaced everything, tucking it away before returning to Leah. “This is called… Lift. It’s supposed to help people understand. Understand what’s going on with each other.” She said as she sat next to the other woman, wincing slightly at the way the sores on her back rubbed against the material of her shirt. “If you really want to know, I can show you. But only if you want to.” She said. 

Leah couldn’t help but glance around the house as she walked in, trying to find any other signs of distress that might pop out at her; any clues that might help to make this easier for Skye. She nodded at Skylar’s words, sitting on the couch she was offered, but not at all relaxing. She looked over and stared at the dog, pressing her lips together to offer it a tight smile. “You protecting her?”, she asked it, holding her hand out for it to sniff as she spoke. She hoped it was at the very least offering Skye some semblance of companionship, especially when she seemed so keen lately to push the people who cared about her away.

Skye’s entrance back to the room broke Leah out of her thoughts, and she turned to look at her, searching. Lift. She’d heard of it, briefly, or at least rumors of it, but never enough to know that it was really a real thing. “Where did you get this?”, she asked, itching to take it out of Skylar’s hand to study it further. “Is that what you’ve been… what that creep gave you that day?” she asked, her eyes finding her friend’s. “What does it… Is it addicting, Skylar? I won’t be able to help you if…-i-if I become addicted, too.” Maybe the implication that Skylar had an addiction would be too forward, but Leah was not going to mince words about the truth of the situation Skylar was putting herself in. It was too dangerous to lie to her about it.

At Leah’s words, Skylar’s eyes narrowed slightly. She didn’t want the questions, didn’t want to think about what her words meant. She didn’t have a problem, she didn’t need these things. They just made things easier. They made life more bearable, numbed her to the things that only ever hurt her. “It’s not.” She said, thinking back to what Gabe had told her. “People don’t buy this often because it’s not… a high, not really. It’s just so people can get what’s going on with someone else. A shared experience. That’s it. If you don’t want to, you don’t need to. But,” Skylar paused, her voice calm and even as her bones ached with pain, “if you decide you don’t want to do this, you’re leaving my house. And you’re not going to talk to me again.” She said. Skylar stared at the other woman with a level, unwavering gaze. “Do you want to understand or not?”

Leah’s eyes didn’t stray much from the cigarette as Skylar explained, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. She really needed to weigh her options here. She didn’t come here to do drugs with Skylar. In fact, that was the opposite point of her trip. The goal was to get Skylar to stop what she was doing. But the younger woman was so insistent that nobody could understand. If she believed that Leah understood, would that make her more inclined to accept her advice? She claimed it wasn’t addicting, surely she’d tell the truth about something as serious. She let out a heavy breath, her eyes traveling back to Skylar’s swiftly. “I’m not giving up on you, Skylar”, she said sternly, despite the tears filling her eyes. “I want to understand, because I want to help, because I care about you. And if this is the only way you feel that can be achieved, then let’s get to it.”

All Skylar needed to hear was Leah’s agreement. Once she had that, Skylar produced a small lighter from her pocket and lit the end of the rolled cigarette. Without hesitation, Skylar took a long inhale from the end, letting the smoke rush into her lungs. It washed over her-- it didn’t provide the relief that Bliss or blue mushrooms did, but that wasn’t why she wanted it. She just hoped the Leah would understand, that someone would finally understand. Holding the cigarette out to Leah, Skylar waited for the other woman to inhale as the world began to swim and twist and shudder around her. The room began to waver in her vision, the walls seeming to fall away one by one, until they two of them remained in a void, the contents of the living room the only thing that remained with them. Skylar let out a deep exhale and curling plumes of dark blue smoke flowed from her lips, splashing onto the carpet like water until it filled the void around them into a churning ocean of deep, endless blue. It was everything she hated, everything she feared, and it roiled around them both. 

Leah was taken aback by how quickly Skylar moved forward with what they were doing. She would have protested that she didn’t need the lighter, that Leah could have taken care of that for them, but maybe telling her how amazing being anything but human could be wasn’t appropriate, given their current situation. Was she enabling Skylar by doing this? Would it help at all? She didn’t have much time to think about it before she took the cigarette from Skye, taking a deep inhale herself. And then, everything was warping and morphing and melting all at once, the floor beneath them disappearing before her eyes. As a blanket of blue surrounded them, her focus fell on Skylar, a mix of awe and cautiousness filling her up. “How does this work?”, she wondered, her voice sounding distant and far away. 

Even though Skylar had her hearing aids in, Leah’s voice sounded crystal clear in her mind, closer and sharper than anyone else had ever felt. There was no mechanical distortion from the receptors, no slight hum to her words. Was this how Leah always sounded, to hearing people? Shrugging, Skylar reached her hand out to touch the water that pulled around them. “I don’t know. It’s… magic.” As her fingertips pressed against the surface, a shudder went through the moving waves, a sharp ripple. It spread across the sea, calming it. But as the ripple spread from her fingers, Skylar watched as the ocean turned into a glassy sheet of black. Every ounce of pain, of sadness, of loneliness she’d ever felt in her entire life, it filled this endless ocean. It was the color of tar, of pitch, dark and all consuming. Sadness, grief, loss, pain, every awful thing she’d ever felt was in this sea and she could feel it pulling her down, down down. And she wanted to give in. She wanted to let it consume her. But, her eyes shifted up as a glimmer of light glinted at the edge of the glassy sea. A sunset, weak and dying but peeking over the horizon line. Rays of light crystalized around them, bright sunbeams of… happiness. Fleeting moments, memories. 

The appearance of so much water made a panic rise in Leah, especially when it appeared in such an unruly, untamed way. But as the water danced around them, so too did a certain sense of calmness, too. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t hurt her. It was a release to accept that- was anything real? Perfectionism and pride seeped from her, a pool of lava somehow seamlessly mixing with the ocean’s waves. But then Skylar was touching it, changing it, and suddenly everything was so much more. Despite their weightlessness, everything felt heavy, like she was falling through thick sludges of pain that were all too intense to identify. Her parents, discovering she was something other- different. A monster. Had she ever really been enough if she was so easy to throw away? But they weren’t her parents, right? That had never happened. Still everything she felt was all encompassing, there was no achievable exit. She was drowning in it. Even the light in the distance felt too small to fix what was here now. She looked at Skylar, at a loss. How did they escape this? 

As they sat their, floating above the expanse of darkness, Skylar looked up to the sky. What had once been a serene cloudless landscape shifted and stormed until dark clouds hung around them. The constant storms that ran through her life-- flashes of lighting struck around them, striking against the black surface of the water. But, the water remained unmoved by the brilliant flashes of crackling ozone that crashed around them. Spasms, sharp stabs of pain, the lightning reminded her of every month she’d spent in agony-- she could see the moments, when she’d been consumed by pain, too tired to move, body aching too much for her to do anything other than curl up in her bed. That was the life her parents had chosen for her. And now, thunder broke with a reverberating roar. Water, rain drops began to drip down on them, pitter-pattering against their skin. Each droplet that hit her skin, Skylar could feel the memories pouring over her. The bones of a boy’s wrist breaking under her teeth. Her father emerging from the water with a bloodied chest, blown apart by shotgun fire. Her mother telling her to never return. Remmy, lying on the floor, ripped in half and sobbing. The rain clouds above them poured and poured. 

Everything hurt. Everything. Leah could feel all the bones she’d ever broken, snapping and cracking under circumstances that any human would be able to uphold. And there was Skylar’s pain too, shooting and spurting through her, determined and yet slow and miserable. As tiny droplets began to fall on them, Leah looked up, the sensation being completely foreign to her. Was this what rain felt like, then? She gazed at the skin of her arm, utterly fascinated by the water droplets dripping clean off, like her skin were made of rubber instead of ash. Memories surrounded her conscious, both good and bad- training with her grandparents, meeting Beatrice for the first time, surpassing her older brother in control of her fire, striving and trying and working and still failing to meet the expectations placed upon her by her parents, shame, shame, shame, a phone call from Nell that still rang in her ear everytime her cellphone rang, even months later, when everything was okay again. But her memories were mixed and muddled with Skylar’s. Like oil and vinegar, never quite combining, but slinking by each other time and time again. But she felt them like they were her own- the heartbreak and the hurt encompassing her before she had the chance to process what was happening. Her hand, distant and far away, reached down to squeeze Skylar’s as she took it all in. Somehow, she felt the squeeze in her free hand as well.

Memories that weren’t her own filtered in on the warm breeze the drifted through the scene, the wind curling through Skylar’s hair as she let it wash over her. The warmth of fire, something that should have scared her, felt like home. A deep friendship with a woman she’d seen in passing in town-- Beatrice? And pain, pain and shock and sadness over what had befallen her. But, there was still warmth to the memories that filtered by, a glow about them. Meanwhile, the rain continued to fall. They continued to fall and the dark water around them continued to rise. Skylar looked down at the glassy reflection and saw her reflection waver and split. Ricky, staring at her with disgust and pain on his face, before turning his back on her, washing his hands clean. Dave, pityingly staring back at her, stunned by her incompetence before fading with a ripple. Lucky, chasing after her with hope and dismay on his face, gone with the move of the current. And then her father, his blood broken form staring at her. He looked like her, so much like her. This isn’t the life I wanted for you. His words echoed in her ears. This wasn’t the life she wanted for herself either. As she stared at the reflection in the ocean of black, the water continued to rise.

Water sputtered and rose around them, violent and threatening to consume them with each added inch. Leah feared it would overtake them any second, and there’d be nowhere left to turn. She needed a way out. A way out from the pain and the shame. A way away from the dread that filled her with each passing memory that didn’t quite belong to her. Every feeling felt like hers, though. Every disappointed gaze, all the heaviness of abandonment, the questions of if she was enough, as she was. The self-hatred, the longing for a life that no longer existed. Skylar’s feelings swam through Leah, hitting every violent twist and turn until nothing felt enjoyable at all. The bonedoggles, ripping at her shoulder, and then lying on the table at the library, her own face looking down at her in concern. Then nothing. No memory of the trauma she just endured. The water hadn’t covered them yet, so why did she feel like she was drowning?

The dark water continued to flow around Skylar simultaneously pushing higher and dragging her down into the depths. It churned around her, ever present, ever growing. She continued to stare at the ripples in the water, the people who had touched her life. Nic, promising her a home and then leaving the house they’d shared for who knows how long. Winston, drunken and smiling as they exalted over the ball of fire they’d conjured up, disappearing without a trace. Remmy, holding her, helping her, leaving because this town asked for too much of everyone. And they needed more. People she loved, people she’d lost, they joined the stream of faces that flowed through the water. Her mother, reproving and hateful. Her father, spineless and cowering. Her brother and sister, so perfect, so good, everything that Skylar wished she could be. And the water flowed higher and higher, beyond her shoulders. Looking over at Leah, Skylar stared at her with dry, dull eyes. She had no more tears left to shed. This was her life, this was all she’d known since coming to this cursed place. “Do you understand?” She asked, as the water began to trickle over her chin, “Do you know?”

It was a strange sensation, to feel a deep disdain for the town that Leah loved so much. Like oil on her hands, she couldn’t escape the feeling no matter how hard she tried. All the awful things that had happened there that she’d witnessed there lay present in her mind. Bea’s death, the Chen family’s disappearance, all the lives she lost before she ever turned 18. But there was good, too, sprinkled throughout. So much good and so much to learn about. Her gaze fell to Skylar at her question. She’d never had a chance to experience the good, yet. All of her memories up until now, they were laced with pain and loss and grief and injury and abandonment. It was really no wonder why she couldn’t feel the wonderful of White Crest. Leah could barely feel it herself, now, with all the heaviness of Skye’s time here weighing on her chest. The water rose above their noses, but in her moment of clarity, Leah could finally breathe again. “Yes”, she answered through the water, tears escaping her eyes and contributing to its massive volume. “Yes, Skye. I can see, now.” She wanted so much to reach out- to wrap Skylar in love and take it all away, but she was still stuck, staring off at a bright horizon that seemed just out of reach. “I see you. I feel it, too.” She was breathing again, somehow. Was it over? “I’m here.”

The water was over Skylar’s mouth, black and all-consuming. Like tar, it clung to her and dragged her further down into the depths of her own despair. She could have lifted her head to talk to Leah, to say that it was okay, that having the other woman understand was enough. But, it wasn’t. And she didn’t want to talk anymore. Leah may be here, but it wasn’t enough. This town had taken too much from her and Skylar was tired of fighting the tides of change. She was too tired to say anything more. And so, she let the water rise over her eyes until the sea of darkness had swallowed her whole.

For a moment, Skylar remained submerged and surrounded by every ounce of pain that this town had drawn out of her. Sadness, longing, hatred, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and a deep, undeniable sense of loss. This town had broken her. She’d lost herself here. And Skylar didn’t know if she’d ever be able to find that girl again.

The haze of Lift broke, dark water dissipating into thick clouds of smoke that cleared and the two were once again sitting on the couch. Skylar could see glittering tears running down Leah’s cheeks and she looked away. This wasn’t-- she didn’t want pity. She’d thought that Leah would understand. That if Leah could feel what she felt, understand the weight that Skylar cared with her every day, she would understand. “You said that… you see. But seeing, it’s not the same as understanding. Do you understand now?” Skylar repeated.

It was over. Just as quickly as it started, the haze had worn off, the water had dissipated, and they were back in Skylar’s living room. Everything was real again. Leah wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, composing herself. All that she had just felt was swimming, processing in her mind, and Skylar was already talking to her, asking her questions. It was over, but her voice still felt distant and far away. Did she understand now? She turned to Skylar, her eyebrows furrowed, and reached out to grab her hand. “I understand, Skylar. I understand e-everything you’ve been feeling. The pain, the shame, the abandonment and loss… I absolutely understand why you would feel the need to turn to the means you have to cope with it all.” She blinked, turning her head forward and squeezing her hand again. Everything that had happened to Skye even before she arrived in White Crest was muddled and painful. But the drugs- what Skylar was doing to destroy herself? That was only going to make it worse.  “I understand why you feel like you need to, but you must understand, too. Why I know this isn’t the best choice for you. Why I know there are other ways to handle… all this hurt you’re holding inside, Skye. We can find another way… together.”

At Leah’s touch, a hand that was impossibly warmer than her own, Skylar wished that she could believe what the other woman was saying. But she’d seen the writing on the wall all those months and months ago. That day she’d gone to the carnival with Morgan, she’d seen her fate etched in the glass of the Hall of Mirrors. She’d seen herself, curled up and wasting away, her skin peeling and pelt rotting. Her body destroyed, spirit long, long gone. And she didn’t have it in her to fight fate any more. “There’s nothing that can be done. This is… it. This is all there is for me. All there ever was.” She said quietly. “This town takes and takes from everyone. And I’m running out of pieces of myself to give.” Swallowing, she looked at Leah through tired eyes. “You should go.”

Starring ahead, Leah shook her head back and forth.  Skylar was wrong.  This wasn’t it.  This was barely half of it.  For every tragedy this town had to spill, every heartbreak and loss and broken promise, it had that much more to offer.  Wonders you could never dream of if you’d never been there.  How unjust it was of White Crest to only offer the worst of itself to Skye upfront.  She shouldn’t go.  She should stay here and help-... Help with what, though?  The place was essentially spotless, not the disheveled mess she expected to show up to.  She stood up awkwardly, her gaze locked on Skylar’s.  More tears sprung to her eyes at the broken girl who stared back at her.  “I’ll be back”, she promised, swallowing.  “Please call me next time you feel like… we can talk instead, okay?” Skylar wouldn’t, she knew, but the offer was there, ready for the taking.  If this experience taught Leah anything, it was that she couldn’t go about getting Skylar better on her own.  It was time to bring in reinforcements. 

18 & 20!

writer asks

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

WELL

bitter snow has the “cassandra raised by sirin” au which i’ve been meaning to talk about ever since i posted chapter 15, so might as well do that here: 

cassandra casāndra witnesses her parents’ arrests but is a little better hidden, so sir peter never finds her + she is adopted by aunt sirin instead

so sirin’s family is. sirin hároham, her partner mainé dathamar, their kids tathēdora (9) and cornaīn (7), plus cas who is 4. mainé and tath are both ill and mainé in rapid decline; sirin, cornaīn, and cas are all distraught; the socona community is decimated and reeling. it’s bad times.

mainé dies about a month after the arrest, while tath lingers in ill health, neither recovering nor getting any worse. (this is the norm among survivors of the crop sickness.) sirin channels a lot of grief into knitting the community back together + trying to scrape together some semblance of safety + taking care of the kids. 

so cas grows up in the thorn syconium/zhan tiri’s cult + all this trauma + the youngest of three siblings whom she loves but also, because she’s cas, has a bit of a rivalry thing going on with + her natural ambition and what all of that combines into is. cas is just as intensely loyal and eager to impress as she is with her dad in bitter snow and canon but it’s all directed at sirin / the cult / saporia in general and.. no one is going to arbitrarily stand in her way, and instead of Desperately wanting to be a guard she Desperately wants to be the one who frees zhan tiri vhbhjdfhbjsdf

anyway

rapunzel’s and varian’s backstories are the same

moira caine’s is also the same (her mom, lada caine, is disabled as a result of crop sickness, dad gets arrested, she and lada move in with fraternal aunt neasa, they’re dirt poor until caine hits her mid-teens and takes up piracy) with the exception that she and cas do meet as kids / moira and cornaīn are kinda friends and cas is their obnoxious tagalong. they don’t know each other Well because the caines are in alcorsīa and that’s a ways from socona but they do encounter each other every so often during big religious festivals etc.

because peter doesn’t have an orphaned saporian kid to occupy him when the search for rapunzel starts to range beyond corona, he ends up in vardaros the spring after the kidnapping, following a lead that turns out to be a dead end. while he’s in the city a grubby five-year-old tries to pick his pocket and that’s how eugene fitzherbert gets adopted by a sergeant of the coronan royal guard and grows up to be basically Flynn Rider, But A Cop

*deep breath*

tath passes away due to complications of the chronic crop sickness in 1669 PE, when cas is 17 and cornaīn is 20. the family is devastated; cornaīn takes off for alcorsīa with the vague intention of joining the separatists as kind of a way of retaliating, and through a series of shenanigans ends up reconnecting with moira + joining the crew of the zampermin + supporting moira’s subsequent mutiny + becoming first mate on the zampermin under moira’s captaincy

cornaīn is killed during a battle at sea three years later in 1672 PE. cas takes to wandering / exploring a lot while sirin sort of snaps; in bitter snow proper this is the point where sirin’s plans in benighted start to really take shape but in this au well. Guess Who Finds Rapunzel In The Tower.

cue “well okay i'll take you to see the lanterns but also, this is going to sound weird but bear with me, can we take a detour to free my god from her prison with your hair?”

so cas and rapunzel make a pit stop at janus point en route to herzingen and while the sundrop by itself isn’t enough to free zhan tiri completely they do make a nice big crack in the wall for her to squeeze through so. well. you know: 

- cas, rapunzel, pascal, and zhan tiri head to herzingen so rapunzel can see the floating lights zhan tiri can conspire with this excellent new disciple and get the sundrop on her side

- gothel, realizing what happened, goes to herzingen in a rage, finds what seems like an easy mark in eugene—who is a respected member of the guard at this point but also has a lazy streak and is a bit callous and interested to a fault in personal enrichment because, again, flynn rider but a cop—and gets in his ear about saving the lost princess from zhan tiri’s cultists and then he’ll have all the riches and admiration he could possibly ask for :) 

- basically her plan is to wind him up and hurl him at cas + zhan tiri so she can “rescue” rapunzel and vanish into the night with her

my elaborate musings on this au sort of peter out at this point but i like to think there’s some big messy confrontation + cas gets stabbed by gothel + gothel does in fact get away with rapunzel and then... something something reluctant allies eugene and cas go after rapunzel with varian + lance + caine all getting dragged into it and then it’s wacky eldritch adventures all the way home. nonsense. 

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

ohhhh boy.

- i love writing dream sequences in general and the ones in benighted are fun because they all come from the various. entities of the sublime realm. and i have just been having a lot of fun kinda... playing with the imagery and weaving in hints about what’s coming vis a vis the sundrop/moonstone and zhan tiri lore. all the dreams are important / have meaning beyond the obvious of freaking the characters having them out. 

- the characters didn’t mention it in the moment because it felt wrong for them to do so / they had much bigger problems but the final scene of chapter 19 takes place on varian’s 15th birthday, the 2nd of Sicáraen. i didn’t do this on purpose (the way i pin things down on the timeline is largely based on travel times between different locations and that scene falling on that day was coincidental) but jksdkjlkbhhjsdfj this poor boy

- in-universe, there are 42 days remaining until benighted ends. this isn’t important i just think it’s neat. 

People Try To Break

(A/N:All right, so it’s been...a WHILE since I last wrote fanfiction, much less published it. *cracks fingers* However Season 4 hit me with Too Many Damned Sad Feelings for these two characters and I have to get them out somehow. In collected one-shot ‘what if?’ scenario form. Thanks to remi-bw for calculating the Beast Island timeline on my previous post. WARNINGS: Violence, brainwashing, character death, Horde Prime, chronic illness and injury. Unbeta’d. )

(BAD END I)

Everything is in ashes. But Hordak will have this: the satisfaction of crushing his enemy’s skull beneath-A blast of pain, accompanied by acrid smoke and a BANG! that makes his ears ring. The makeshift club is torn from his grip, glowing eyes already seeking out the source of this intrusion- who dares, he will grind them into dust for...

Lord Hordak, Supreme Leader of the Horde, former right hand of the Emperor of the Known Universe does not even register the child who shot him, transfixed by the mass of writhing violet swarming out of the pipe. He cannot breathe, even as a form emerges from beneath all that hair and oh, he cannot see her face from this distance but he knows it with every fibre of his being- “Entrapta?” A whisper, uncertain and weak, legs moving of their own volition.

The light around him turns green after three steps, arresting his forward motion. Horde Prime is here at last. Yet he feels...terror. Please. Not now. I have to speak to her, she needs to know- “ENTRAPTA!” A hand reaches out uselessly, desperately in her direction, as if hoping against all logic and sense to close the gap between them. Too late. Darkness and Prime’s technology take him under.

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(BAD END II)

Hordak had dreamed of standing before his brother with pride -all of this, I have accomplished in your name- next to the woman whose brilliance had made it possible. Instead he is damaged, dirty and on his knees while Entrapta lies unconscious among the rubble that was transported with them. He explains everything, but there is no flicker of gratitude or admiration on his Emperor’s face. Horde Prime seems...mildly amused, at best. At least until Hordak, in his growing anxiety to prove his worth, fails. The temperature in the room has not changed, and yet his insides are frozen.

Prime steps down from his throne to rifle through Hordak’s memories like a box of useless scrap. It feels...wrong in a way that it should not. He is a clone, the rightful property of the Emperor. Nothing can -or should- be hidden from His gaze. And yet there are moments flashing through his head that some part of him does not want Horde Prime to see. Because they are...special. “-There was even a time you wished I would not come for you. Is that not so?”

He protests in vain even as his Creator moves to stand over Entrapta’s prone form, lifting her up by the scruff of her neck. Stunned into silence, Hordak watches his brother examine the Etherian scientist as he once had-A backwater primitive with some shred of actual intelligence.

“Such an extraordinary mind... For a lesser species. A pity it cannot be utilized in service of my Empire.”

“What?” Surely he must have misheard. Then a smirk that can only be described as cruel quirks Prime’s lips and dread is a jagged stone in the pit of his stomach. “Poor little brother, so easily led astray. You truly thought that you served My will, that I would allow your pet to spread heresy. That you have even given yourself a name proves you have become an abomination.” His Emperor is no longer composed or pretending at benevolence, radiating sheer rage at the presumptive defect before Him. “You must be reborn.” His hand closes around  Entrapta’s throat.

Hordak’s body does not-cannot- obey his will, despite how fast his heart is racing. He pleads, begs, grovels like the worthless creature he is, all for the wretched hope of saving her. The one being in the entire universe who truly made him...complete. The sound her neck makes when it snaps is deafening in his ears, her killer dropping her lifeless body to the floor seconds later.

An anguished howl rips through the air as the monster approaches once more. Unable to lash out, blinded by hatred and tears, he does not even realize what is happening. There is pain and then...Nothingness.

Three days later, clone HK-001 still exhibits near-constant ocular discharge despite successful reconditioning. No cause is determined, and the Empire does not waste resources on defects. HK-001′s termination is carried out efficiently, while the conquest of Etheria begins in earnest. A small creature with no voice of its’ own looks up at the stars and the massive fleet that nearly blots them out, clutching an engraved crystal in its’ hands. Waiting.

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(GOOD END I)

Horde Prime is dead.

Princess Entrapta of Dryl claims his body, empire, and army by right of conquest. There isn’t much left of the first by the time she finishes experimenting with it, but the treasure trove of data provided is invaluable to the field of xenobiology. And to the new Empress’s Consort. Who loves her very much and made that perfectly clear once they’d gotten past the post-fight sex in the throne room and the temporary awkwardness that followed.

She’s got fleets full of new and fascinating technology, infinite galaxies to explore, masses of clones to study; (Watching them adjust to the idea of individuality is fascinating, there’s already an entire ship’s crew who started wearing maroon after spending an afternoon with Scorpia.) Her Lab Partner is right there with her, working on projects, trading theories and ideas even while lying in bed with Imp curled up in her hair and Emily in sleep mode in the corner.

Some of her friends don’t quite...understand her choices, but they also don’t have the power or authority to stop her anymore. That they’re still her friends after a regicide means a lot, even if the bi-monthly Princess Meetings involve a lot of dirty looks being thrown in Hordak’s direction. Which he ignores. Pointedly. Without breaking anything, even! Which she definitely needs to check off on her progress list for Social Experiment 51-B. Life, in the simplest possible terms, is ‘good’. Entrapta intends to keep it that way. Besides, a being who couldn’t accept that imperfections and accidents were what allowed scientific progress and the driving principles of the universe to move forward was far better off as a test subject.

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(GOOD END II)

Hordak freezes at the sight of the apparent ‘ghost’ for only a moment before rage draws him back into its’ black, razor-edged pit. The rebel archer miscalculates and winds up dangling by his neck in a choking grip. “You DARE to use that shapeshifter’s tricks?” He snarls, eyes practically emitting heat from sheer force of will alone. “What -hgk- do you-?”

“Do not LIE to me. Entrapta is dead.” They will regret this decision, for he will wring out their apologies along with their screams for mercy. But first. “And you are delaying my extermination of her murderer.” Catra will pay. For every action she had done, every lie told, every second of time she wasted while Entrapta was sent and abandoned to die on Beast Island. (It has been five Etherian seven-day units of time. No sentient being could have survived that long.) His grasp is suddenly surrendered when Double Trouble uses the existing rope-line and their imitation prehensile hair to swing down and tackle him to the ground. The attempts he makes at ripping the face off of this pretender end with his wrists bound above his head, growling in impotent fury.

“Hordak! I found the First Ones’ database at the centre of Beast Island! It’s a technological wonder-pure information buried in the midst of a sentient hazardous waste disposal site that slowly paralyzes and consumes any being exposed to it.” A pause for breath is accompanied by a tiny shudder that most people...probably wouldn’t notice. “Anyway, Bow and Adora showed up in a spaceship-I totally need to study it properly later- and I rescued them even though they were supposed to be rescuing me, there was this weird guy who ate bugs and oh! I made a new friend. She’s really great and didn’t have any problems with me sitting in her mouth.” Entrapta tilts her head at him, looking mildly confused and then hesitant. “You...really didn’t abandon me?” The question is quiet, a complete departure from her energetic explanations. She seems almost scared of what his answer might be, hair releasing his wrists now that he’s stopped struggling.

Hordak is stricken, tears welling in his eyes as he carefully sits up. He didn’t notice the changes in her appearance before, the indications that she couldn’t possibly be the form-changing mercenary. If this is another lie, and he is about to be killed for believing it, then he no longer cares. His fingers slowly, gently caress the hair along her scalp. “No. Never.” He’s never known her to be particularly fond of touching people with any part of her body aside from her hair...Yet they wind up with her arms around his shoulders and his around her waist. “I have been an utter fool.” Hordak murmurs, the upper half of his face resting against her left shoulder. “Believing you were a traitor from the start. Catra is a proven liar, and you...” The words catch in his throat for a moment. He has never done this before. Had neither wanted nor needed to until now. With her. “Entrapta. I need you.” Somehow he gathers the courage to meet her eyes and finds them as moist as his, but she also looks...pleased?

Entrapta sniffles. “I kind of gave up on you while I was imprisoned. Bow offered me some good advice, though.” She smiles, even if it’s a touch shaky. “Hey, we’re both imperfect, right? Just means we need to keep working on it.” She considers the question a success when he laughs softly and smiles at her in turn, their foreheads coming to rest against one another. Hm. His armor is missing the central crystal. She’ll have to ask about that, locate it, and tell him what the writing on it translates to. She loves him too, and he deserves to know it as an absolute proven fact. In time, they’ll rebuild what is broken (The Fright Zone is a mess, for starters.). When nothing arrives to block out the stars, no further attempts to contact Horde Prime are made. They have enough to keep them busy for a very long time. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A/N: In Bad End II Entrapta is unconscious the whole time because I am a firm believer that she is capable of murdering him in 2.5 seconds. Especially if he has the alien equivalent of a jugular or carotid artery. So originally I was going to add reactions from Bow and Glimmer in Good End II buuuuut this is already decently long and their dialogue would have boiled down to Bow quietly squeeing, Glimmer going WTF?!, Entrapta being cheerfully blunt and Hordak scowling because You’re Interrupting A Moment, Godsdamnit.  Horde Prime accidentally flew into a black hole or something, IDK. One last thing. I’ve never written a neurodivergent character (coded or otherwise), so if I have butchered Entrapta’s character and/or written something that is offensive; I deeply apologize and will look to correct this if provided with constructive criticism.)

#2: WHAT IS BIPOLAR DISORDER?

FELICITY: Bipolar disorder is a mental illness. Key word one: “illness,” meaning you are afflicted with it. Key word two: “mental,” it being a part of the brain. 

F: Mental health is as important as physical health. They are both very important, they go hand in hand. Bipolar disorder is a chemical imbalance in the brain. Whether or not it comes upon you after a traumatic event, or when puberty hits, or if it- if you show signs when you’re born, it doesn’t matter. it is all a chemical imbalance. 

F: You are born with it, no matter what. You can go...twenty five years without seeing any symptoms, simply because you never had anything to jumpstart your bipolar disorder. But, if you have bipolar disorder, were properly diagnosed with it...you were already born with it. It was already in your brain. 

F: Bipolar disorder is categorized by highs and lows in your mood. That’s why it’s called a mood disorder [edit: it can also be called a psychotic disorder]. Not just simple, everyday highs and lows like everybody has, it’s not just “oh, I feel sad today, it’s not just, “oh, I have a lot of energy.” It’s extreme. 

ANJA: That’s why they’re called poles. That’s why it’s bipolar disorder

F: Yes, it’s the two poles, the high and the low. 

A: The mania and the depression.

F: So mania, is when you...[trails off]...

A: It’s the high. 

F: It’s the high. Mania is the high, that means you have a lot of energy, you are very impulsive, can have a lot of aggression, rage, risky thoughts, risky behaviors.

A: Racing thoughts. 

F: Racing thoughts, absolutely. Nightmares, hallucinations, hypersexuality, violence, paranoia...

A: Also, I don’t think this is an official symptom, but coming from myself and a lot of other bipolar people, you get this feeling where you’re like, crawling in your own skin. 

F: Yeah. Definitely. I hear that one a lot. 

F: So, symptoms of a depressive episode is that you...well, you are depressed. Not just kinda sad, you feel really, really, down. When I’m depressed, and I have major depressive disorder, when I’m depressed I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to take a shower. I don’t want to get dressed, I don’t want to do anything, I don’t want to be anything. 

A: There’s no motivation whatsoever. 

F: No motivation whatsoever. 

A: I don’t get depressive episodes very often because I have bipolar I, and I get manic more than I do depressed. I don’t really- I don’t have to worry about depression, unless I like, unless I have no stimulation in my everyday life. 

F: You have to stay busy in order to not get depressed. I’m the same way. If I don’t want to sit in that pit, I have to stay busy all the time. That’s why I’m constantly going, and going, and going, and doing, because if I just sit for more than a couple days, I’m in that pit and I don’t feel good. 

F: So, another symptom, another result, of bipolar disorder, is uh, suicide. There is a hefty suicide rate among bipolar people. That is- that is the worst part. And as a parent of a bipolar child, knowing the statistics around bipolar disorder and suicide, it’s enough to kickstart me into a depression. It is- it worries me. 

A: The, um, I’m not gonna say the only reason, but it is one of the biggest reasons why I didn’t try to kill myself when I was younger, was because I’m so afraid of death. Maybe not death, but what happens after it. 

F: To tell you the truth, me too. It absolutely terrifies me. 

F: So, some statistics from the NIMH, claim that 2.9% of thirteen to eighteen year olds have bipolar disorder, and eighty one percent of those kids have it severe. It’s bad enough to be hospitalized, and make their life really difficult. 

F: So I was reading earlier...about bipolar disorder, and someone asked the question, “can someone with bipolar disorder live a normal life?” And it says here, “people with bipolar disorder usually go ten years before being accurately diagnosed. Treatment can make a huge difference. It is a chronic health condition that needs lifetime management. Plenty of people with this condition do well, they have families and jobs and live normal lives.” So that ought to give you a little hope for the future. 

F: That’s...that’s the other thing. Meds...they are- in my opinion, they are a must. It’s beyond me how people aren’t medicated. 

A: I think it’s really funny how, um, how after I was diagnosed bipolar, the last thing you wanted me to do was be on meds. Now, we depend on it. We have to. There’s no choice. 

F: As you were growing up and you were being misdiagnosed all over the place, meds were the last thing on my mind. We tried every single thing else. We tried discipline, rewards, I tried diet changes, we tried all sorts of therapy, I tried changing the way that I parent! And none of it worked. 

A: Because you can’t just change those chemicals. Without medication. 

F: You can’t! Exactly. You can’t change those chemicals. Absolutely. I’m the same way with mine, my MDD. It doesn’t fix itself. I need medication to give me the right chemicals. To balance those chemicals in my brain. That is a must. 

F: So, we’ve talked about what bipolar is, now let’s talk about what it is not. It’s not learned. It’s not a discipline problem. It’s not something that you can beat out of a child, teach out of a child, train out of a child, It’s not something that’s going to go away. And it’s not something that’s just going to one day change. It’s an ever evolving illness...

A: But it’s always there. 

F: But it’s always there. And unless you’re treating it with therapy and medication, you’re fighting a losing battle. 

A: Chronic is the key word. 

F: Chronic is the key word. Bipolar disorder is a chronic illness. 

A: Which, that really scares me. Because I’ll have to live with this for the rest of my life. 

F: Let me tell you something. I’ve described severe depression as rain. Imagine you have to go out in the rain. And you have to change the tires on your car, you have to check your mail, you have to walk your dog, you have to go to work. You have to hoe your garden, mow your lawn. Daily things, but you have to do them in the rain. That’s what my brain is like every single day. I will always live doing everything in the rain. And that’s a daunting thing to think about. 

F: I can still do all those daily activities, but you know how when you go in the rain, everything’s just harder? And you’re just slightly more miserable doing them? That’s what it’s like with MDD, I’m constantly having to force myself to do things. And when I do them, I’m miserable. It’s harder for me. It’s harder for me to go take a shower than it is for other people. It’s harder for me to do things because it’s like when you’re out in the rain, everything’s just that much harder.

A: It’s like- I’ve said it before- but it’s like when you do anything, it would be much easier for a neurotypical person.   

F: It is much easier for a neurotypical person. They’re not fighting chemicals in their brain. 

A: They’re not fighting their own mind on a daily basis. 

F: Yeah! And I know that’s exhausting. I know your brain is tired. I know you’re tired. I know you are. But you can’t really think about it that way, because then you’ll get overwhelmed. I can’t think about how I will never not be in the rain. I can’t think about it...because that’s just gonna throw me back in that pit. And I can’t live my life, raise my kids, and take care of everything I need to take care of..if I’m in that pit. 

A: And it’s okay to be miserable. It’s okay to rest. 

F: As long as you don’t give up. I like Kevin Hines’s hashtag, #beheretomorrow. Today might not have been the best day, but as long as you’re here tomorrow, that’s what matters. 

F: Let’s touch on what bipolar disorder means for you- for us. What does bipolar disorder mean for you? 

A: I really hate to say this but...bipolar disorder is a part of me. And I can’t change that. I mean, sometimes I really wish I didn’t have bipolar disorder, but I don’t know what I would be without it. 

F: Absolutely. I completely agree with you. I feel the same way about myself. I don’t know who I would be. I don’t know who my father would have been, who my grandmother would have been, without mental illness. 

F: While I understand your sentiment, I think that because you’re medicated, and nobody else was, you are more you.

A: And less bipolar disorder. 

F: Yes! Exactly. When you were eight years old and running away and acting out, being violent and raging, I didn’t know who you were! I couldn’t buy you gifts, I didn’t know what you liked. I didn’t know your personality...all I knew was this child I couldn’t connect with. All I knew was this child that absolutely hated me. 

A: I was mostly bipolar disorder. 

F: One of the more prominent symptoms that you had was lack of motivation. Smartest kid ever, bad grades. It’s not that you didn’t know the work, you just didn’t turn stuff in. Soon as we got you on medication, that mostly changed. 

F: Super energy. 

A: Aggressive. Frustrated. 

F: Violent. Raging. Yeah, those were scary times. 

A: I had anger issues.

F: A lot. Yeah. You couldn’t focus on anything. I know a lot of that are symptoms of ADHD. 

A: Which is why I got misdiagnosed.

F: But its the hallucinations and the nightmares that sealed the deal. That turned things around. When we brought those up, it turned things around. That’s when the term “bipolar” came into play, and it fit. It fit you. 

F: I know that some of the symptoms in my family, that are or were mentally ill, were definitely instability. Never being able to stay put. Not being consistent. Inconsistency was huge.

A: Even me, now, medicated, I can’t stay on the same routine or the same surroundings for more than a month. I have to change something about my life, whether it be my room, or, hell, my Tumblr blog. There has to be something that changes. 

F: I agree. I’m the same way. I get very bored very easily.

F: Money! Money was a huge problem when I was growing up. You know, nobody could save. They would spend wildly. 

A: Money? You mean lack of!

F: Yeah. It was impulsive spending. That’s one of the bigger symptoms of bipolar disorder in adults. Impulsive spending. That was a huge one when I was growing up. 

F: My family was never very affectionate. They were always very distant. 

A: I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t affectionate.

F: Well, that’s the whole reason I am affectionate, is because I was starved as a child. I needed affection and I never got it. So, it was super important to me that I be an affectionate parent. I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t affectionate either, because I thrive on being close to you guys. And I don’t want to raise you in the same situation. In an angry, distant, impulsive, unstable situation. I don’t want to raise you that way. 

F: So, what did we learn today?

F: That it’s a little scary.

A: It’s scary.

F: But it can be managed.

A: It can be managed.

F: And you’re doing a fantastic job. And I’m doing a fantastic job, and your team is doing a fantastic job. 

F: Do you remember the time we were standing outside Old Navy and you told me you wanted to buy a gun?

[blank stare]

Psalms and Verses in Hoodoo

As stated elsewhere, hoodoo is not a religion. It is a system of spiritual practices and magic. Hoodoo grew up in the USA in the shadow of the larger culture of Christianity in white society. This American created form of magic adjusts and adapts itself to the larger culture around it--absorbing what its practioners can and want to use. Hence, in areas where Christian Catholicism was dominant, practitioners often used Catholic prayers. In areas where sundry forms of Christian Protestantism was strong, bible verses, usually from the King James Version, were employed.

Bible verses were embroidered on samplers and pillows as words to inspire Godly behavior and draw blessings from the Almighty. White Southern Christians would have been largely unconcerned with African-American servants, etc. reciting Psalms or verses from the King James Version.

The effectiveness of prayer was widely believed in the USA South. To illustrate how some Psalms and other verses in the King James Version were and are still used by some practitioners, I have assembled a collection of examples. Certainly there were more, and probably which Psalms and verses were used where, varied from practitioner to practitioner. Doubless these words were faithfully recited over candles and huricane oil lamps, remedies and mojos, as well as other charms. Certainly, some were used in connection with roots, herbs, and other medicinal and special items. It is said that many cures are brought about by trees, roots, and herbs, but powerful cures are brought about by Word of God. Sometimes more than one of the Psalms or verses would be used with others.

Healing Severe Headache or Backache Psalm 3 was recited to treat a severe headache or a backache. It would be recited over rubbing oil, and then massaged into the head and/or back while praying. The key phrase in ths psalm is "But thou, O LORD, art...the lifter of my head..." This Psalm was traditionally used in banishing and troublesome and oppressive spirits, who might be responsible for the physical discomfort. The holy name is called Jehovah-Kabodhi which signifies, O LORD, my glory. The name of God, the physician and helper, is found in the words of verse 3. The Lord (Adon) will be a shield around the one who needs healing.

Lord, how are they increased that trouble me! many are they that rise up against me. Many there be which say of my soul, There is no help for him in God. Selah. But thou, O LORD, art a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head. I cried unto the LORD with my voice, and he heard me out of his holy hill. Selah. I laid me down and slept; I awaked; for the LORD sustained me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people, that have set themselves against me round about. Arise, O LORD; save me, O my God: for thou hast smitten all mine enemies upon the cheek bone; thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly. Salvation belongeth unto the LORD: thy blessing is upon thy people. Selah. (Psalm 3)

A prayer such as the following may be added:

Lord of the world, may it please thee to be my physician and helper. Heal me and relieve me from my severe headache and backache, because I can find help only with thee and only with thee is counsel and action to be found. Amen. Selah.

Likewise Psalm 3 could have been also recited to bless the cup of feverfew tea or the bit of willow bark to be chewed as these were both Southern headache cures used by African-Americans. [In the early 20th century, it might have been recited over the "miracle drug" aspirin (acetylsalicylic acid). I suppose one could update this cure by reciting the verses over a couple of acetaminophen tablets.]

Breaking a Hex

To break a hex, frequently Psalm 7:1-10 was recited over a pot of well water, which was poured out in the direction of wherever the hex supposedly originated.

O LORD my God, in thee do I put my trust: save me from all them that persecute me, and deliver me: Lest he tear my soul like a lion, rending it in pieces, while there is none to deliver. O LORD my God, If I have done this; if there be iniquity in my hands; If I have rewarded evil unto him that was at peace with me; (yea, I have delivered him that without cause is mine enemy:) Let the enemy persecute my soul, and take it; yea, let him tread down my life upon the earth, and lay mine honour in the dust. Selah. Arise, O LORD, in thine anger, lift up thyself because of the rage of mine enemies: and awake for me to the judgment that thou hast commanded. So shall the congregation of the people compass thee about: for their sakes therefore return thou on high.The LORD shall judge the people: judge me, O LORD, according to my righteousness, and according to mine integrity that is in me. Oh let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end; but establish the just: for the righteous God trieth the hearts and reins. My defence is of God, which saveth the upright in heart. (Psalm 7:1-10)

Remedy for a Sick Child

When a child is ill, with a chronic disease, write Psalm 9, with the holy and mystic name, "Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh," upon clean paper, with a new pen. Place this amulet in a clean bag, and hang it about the neck of the child.

I will praise thee, O Lord, with my whole heart; I will shew forth all thy marvellous works. I will be glad and rejoice in thee: I will sing praise to thy name, O thou most High. When mine enemies are turned back, they shall fall and perish at thy presence. For thou hast maintained my right and my cause; thou satest in the throne judging right. Thou hast rebuked the heathen, thou hast destroyed the wicked, thou hast put out their name for ever and ever. O thou enemy, destructions are come to a perpetual end: and thou hast destroyed cities; their memorial is perished with them. But the Lord shall endure for ever: he hath prepared his throne for judgment. And he shall judge the world in righteousness, he shall minister judgment to the people in uprightness. The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble. And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee. Sing praises to the Lord, which dwelleth in Zion: declare among the people his doings. When he maketh inquisition for blood, he remembereth them: he forgetteth not the cry of the humble. Have mercy upon me, O Lord; consider my trouble which I suffer of them that hate me, thou that liftest me up from the gates of death: That I may shew forth all thy praise in the gates of the daughter of Zion: I will rejoice in thy salvation. The heathen are sunk down in the pit that they made: in the net which they hid is their own foot taken. The Lord is known by the judgment which he executeth: the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands. Higgaion. Selah. The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God. For the needy shall not always be forgotten: the expectation of the poor shall not perish for ever. Arise, O Lord; let not man prevail: let the heathen be judged in thy sight. Put them in fear, O Lord: that the nations may know themselves to be but men. Selah. (Psalm 9)

Afterward repeat this prayer with reverence with the child, and think at the same time of the holy name of "Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh." This is the mystical name when Moses asked for the LORD's name, which God said unto Moses, "I Am That I Am." The mystical aspect of this name is that it may also be translated as: "I am He Who is," "I am he that will be," "I am who I am," or "I AM."

Protection from Corrupt Fools

Psalm 14 can also be recited daily to cast from one's life any corrupt fool who would lead one astray from a path of truth and virtue, especially if accompanied by this prayer:

Jehovah El Emeth, I worship thee by living out thy truth and by walking in thy truth. Please strengthen me by thine Holy Spirit, so that thy holy name be glorified. Amen.

The angels, likewise, will recognize anyone who daily prays this psalm as a righteous person.

Freedom from Danger and Suffering for a Period of Twenty-Four Hours

To be free from all danger and suffering for one day, a person may also mix in a bottle rose-oil, water, and salt as described above while seven times reciting Psalm 20 and along with a suitable prayer, with reverence in a low voice. This mixture, if rubbed on the hands and face, and sprinkled on one's clothing, will keep one smelling sweet. He will remain free from all danger and suffering that day.

The divine title,"the God of Jacob," indicates that the LORD will choose one and will pass by another.

Read More Here

Maybe Mama Valerius died a few years ago, or maybe she's just chronically ill and needs constant doctor care. Whatever the case, Christine finds herself in far more desperate straits than in canon, having to take out loans, and pick up whatever small jobs she can on the side (sewing, mending, and the like). Her place at the Opera, previously a release for her, becomes ever-more stressful as she struggles to keep up appearances---hiding her situation from not only her bosses and colleagues, (1/5)

but also from the angelic tutor who above all else demands her total commitment to her art. For awhile, she manages to keep all the balls in the air. But her small paychecks are never enough to catch up with the ever-mounting debts; the chorus master---and worse, the angel---have begun to comment on her perpetual fatigue; and she lives in terror of the day she's called to adjust a hem on the dress of one of her notoriously-gossipy fellow singers. Everyone has their breaking point. (2/5)

The little Giry has never been able to keep her mouth shut; it doesn't take long for everyone in the company to hear that her mother has been chosen as courier to the Ghost---charged, among other things, with delivering his hefty 'salary' every month. The old mother Giry has even been seen bouncing around with the precious envelopes in her hand, on her way to leave them in the Ghost's designated box---an apparently-*empty* box, where just *anyone* might stroll in and take them. (3/5)

Not that anyone in the company *would*, of course, all too terrified of incurring the Ghost's wrath. But Christine has never believed in ghosts, nor this one specifically---and even if she did, it might be worth confronting such a specter if it held any chance of escaping the pit she's fallen into. Whatever the case, man or spirit, the 'Ghost' is unquestionably a wicked extortionist either way---and, she reasons, no more entitled to the money that *she* is. (4/5)

And so, late on a particular evening when most other people have left the building, Christine Daae finds herself skulking just inside the door of box 7 on the grand tier, waiting for the clicks of Madame Giry's footsteps to recede. After that, there's little difficulty in slipping into the neighbouring box, and retrieving the envelope that sits on its shelf. But if she had hoped to get away before the actual intended recipient of the money arrived, she seriously underestimated the Ghost. (5/5)

Christine is desperate, completely and utterly desperate otherwise she would never consider such a thing. It’s downright against her nature, but she needs the money for Mamma, and after all that Mamma has done for her she needs to do all she can. So even though she knows it’s wrong, and even though her reasoning that the Ghost is nothing but an extortionist feels weak even to her, she works up the nerve and grabs the envelope.

And a thin piece of cord snakes out of the shadows and wraps around her wrist. She yelps and drops the envelope, the cord pulling tight enough that she’s terrified her wrist is going to snap, and if it does she can’t afford to get it looked after and she’ll lose her job and not be able to even sew and Mamma will die and it will be all be Christine’s fault, and she’s weeping before she even sees the snarling skull-like face in front of her own.

Erik is stumped. He had expected any number of reactions, even an attempt to flee. He had not expected his own student, or for her to break down so quickly. She’s in such a state that she never notices when he releases the cord and slips it back up his sleeve, or when he sits her down and gives her a handkerchief. If she were anyone else he would not hesitate to kill them for interfering in his business, but his rage dies quickly the moment he recognises her, and the tender feelings he’s had for her for weeks are troubling him.

At first, it was a bit of a lark to teach her, a way to pass the time and upset Carlotta and the managers by having a nobody surpass them all. He never intended to get attached, but he’s found himself attached, and something about the poor girl who’s clearly so desperate and muttering to herself that she’s sorry she’s sorry she needs the money for Mamma, cuts him to the core. He’s always prided himself on his observation skills, so why did he not observe how badly off she was?

Quietly he takes half the money from the envelope, and presses it into her hand, reasoning that the opera owes her at least that for all the custom she’s going to bring their way. And then he disappears, and by the time Christine composes herself she’s sitting there quite alone with 10,000 francs in her hand, and she realises that through her tears she never actually saw the Ghost.

She goes home and pays her debts, and sets the rest aside. At her next lesson, her “angel” gets the story out of her about just how hard things are, how sometimes she can barely afford food, how she cannot afford the maid. She doesn’t mention the money she almost stole, and the small fortune that came from it, and neither does he. But after the Ghost’s next payday, she finds another bundle of money waiting in her dressing room, along with some roses, and a note instructing her to find a maid, and let herself rest.

Erik keeps a weather-eye on her after that, making sure she never gets into trouble, that she never works too hard. And gradually, under his care, things start to improve, until he decides that she’s ready to take to the stage.

He does not intend to kidnap her after it - that just sort of happens. But he does, and as soon as Christine realises that her benefactor is the Ghost is her angel, a part of her regrets ever accepting the money from him at all. It’s one more way to bind her to him.

Annual year-end meme thing.

Under the cut for length.

1. What did you do in 2017 that you’d never done before? Not very much. 2. Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? An attempt was made to buy less yarn, finish my unfinished projects, offload unwanted yarn, and use up what I already had, but only the second to last of those happened. 3. Did anyone close to you give birth? No one that I know of. 4. Did anyone close to you die? If there was anyone, I haven't heard about it. 5. What countries did you visit? I didn't go anywhere this year. Hell, I barely left the STATE this year. 6. What would you like to have in 2018 that you lacked in 2017? I wouldn't mind having a proper relationship again, but I don't foresee that happening. 7. What date from 2017 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? There really wasn't anything from this year that sticks out for me. 8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Aside from FINALLY FUCKING GETTING A JOB? I at least had my most productive year of knitting I've ever had. And other than that? Just getting through this shitstorm of a year. 9. What was your biggest failure? I don't know if I'd really call it a failure per se, but I spent much of this year in a pit of depression and lethargy. 10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Along with the above, I'm still dealing with chronic migraines (which were finally diagnosed as such earlier this year and I finally got proper medication for them, and I'd eventually determined that the ADD medication I no longer take was causing most of them, although they still happen now), and my job has often left me with sore ankles from being on my feet all day. 11. What was the best thing you bought? Hell if I know, since I really didn't do much of anything interesting. 12. Whose behavior merited celebration? I recently reconnected on Twitter with an old fandom friend who I once had a falling out with and hadn't talked to in close to 15 years, and things are going well there. Additionally, all the people who have continued to stick by me and support me when I'm at my lowest points. 13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? If you've paid attention to the news AT ALL this year, I think this would be obvious. Additionally, just anyone who showed themselves to be raging assholes to me. 14. Where did most of your money go? Yarn. Clothing. And Legacy Wars. FUCKING Legacy Wars. >_< 15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Not much of anything. 16. What song will always remind you of 2017? It's not even from 2017, but Into the Sky from Gundam Unicorn Re:0096. I don't know why. I just got really hooked on this song this year. Probably because Toonami was showing it earlier this year. 17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? You'd think finally working again would've made me happier, but I'm really not. Everything in the world is just so depressing. ii. thinner or fatter? I don't know. I've not been working out, and my eating habits this year have been horrible, but work at least has me moving around. iii. richer or poorer? Even with work, I'm not making a whole lot (plus it didn't start until the end of September), so I think you know the answer to this. 18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Eating better, being more proactive on various things. 19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Procrastinating, being depressed (though that's hard to do much about). 20. How will you be spending Christmas? Not much of anything as usual. It was too cold for anything anyway (and still is). 22. Did you fall in love in 2017? Nothing new compared to the past few years... 23. How many one-night stands? I hate this question. 24. What was your favorite TV program? I watched a whole lot of Star Trek this year, because goodness knows I needed to watch something about a more hopeful future with the way the world is right now. 25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Just people who don't really mean anything. 26. What was the best book you read? I don't think I really read anything this year either. 27. What was your greatest musical discovery? The soundtrack for the new Power Rangers movie was pretty impressive. I've also recently gotten into these new age-y "binaural beats" pieces that are all over YouTube. They're really good for relaxing at night and falling asleep. 28. What did you want and get? A job. FINALLY. 29. What did you want and not get? Redemption after the crap I went through in 2016. The chance to see certain friends again (though that's coming in March). 30. What was your favorite film of this year? Power Rangers, which I went to see in the theater five times. I also really enjoyed Wonder Woman and Star Wars. 31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned 37, and I didn't do much because this year was so terrible. 32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Having people in charge of this country who weren't such malicious idiots. 33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2017? Nothing special. 34. What kept you sane? Knitting. The cats. Star Trek. The friends who didn't abandon me. 35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Same as always. 36. What political issue stirred you the most? *gestures at fucking everything in the news for the past year* 37. Who did you miss? The usual. 38. Who was the best new person you met? I really didn't meet anyone new. 39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2017. The world sucks. Fuck the world. 40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. "Burn it. Burn it all..." (Wildfire by Sonata Arctica) (Just going to reuse last year's because it fits.)

What Happens When You Eat Apple Seeds? Dr. Mercola By Dr. Mercola Many a grandmother has warned her grandkids against eating "poisonous" apple seeds. Perhaps you've had the experience of accidentally swallowing a few and wondering if you'd soon fall to the floor, gasping for breath. Then there are those individuals who've been eating apples whole — seeds and all — for decades with no ill effects. Many did not even know there were supposed "ill effects" to speak of. Are there? This is the question of the day, and, to answer it in a nutshell, or shall I say in an apple core, there's little to be afraid of. Apple Seeds Release Cyanide When Crushed Apple seeds contain amygdalin, a plant compound known as a cyanogenic glycoside. It's part of the seeds' chemical defenses, but when apple seeds are chewed or crushed and metabolized, the amygdalin turns into hydrogen cyanide. Hydrogen cyanide, in turn, is a poisonous substance that prevents your cells from using oxygen properly, leading to death within minutes at high-enough exposure levels. It's perhaps most known for its use as a chemical warfare agent by the Germans during World War II, but it was also reportedly used during the Iran-Iraq War in the 1980s, also as a chemical weapon.1 Apple seeds aren't the only food to contain cyanide precursors. Amygdalin is also found in apricot, peach and cherry pits, for instance, and much more (over 2,5000 plant species in all2). But consuming a few apple seeds is not the same thing as being exposed to straight hydrogen cyanide, and here's why: apple seeds have a protective coating that's resistant to digestion. If you've ever eaten whole apple seeds, you may have noticed that they pass through your body basically unharmed. The cyanide is only produced if the seeds are damaged (i.e., crushed or chewed), so swallowing a few seeds whole is likely to be of little consequence. It's one of mother nature's ingenious protections, as the seeds' ability to produce cyanide when crushed discourages animals from chewing them, thus allowing for the whole undamaged seeds to return to the Earth and grow new apples. You'd Have to Eat a Lot of Crushed Apple Seeds for Them to Be Dangerous While consuming the number of apple seeds in one apple (the average apple contains 5 seeds, according to the Washington State Apple Commission3) is not cause for alarm, it is possible to be harmed by apple seeds — if you crush them and consume a large enough quantity. Children and pets, due to their smaller size, may be at increased, though still infinitesimal, risk. To put things in perspective, the Illinois Poison Center (IPC) blog noted that cyanide toxicity resulting from unintentional ingestion of amygdalin-containing pits, such as cherry pits, is extremely rare in the U.S., explaining:4 "Realistically, the pits and seeds are more of a choking hazard than a poisoning risk. At least a couple of times a year here at IPC, we get called about a child who has ingested 10-20 cherry pits whole. These kids have done just fine and developed no symptoms at all. … Intentional large ingestions however, have resulted in toxicity, including a few cases of ingestion of 20 [to] 40 chewed apricot pits by adults, which resulted in cyanide toxicity but no fatalities." To look at it in more mathematical terms, 1 gram of apple seeds contains anywhere from 1 to 4 milligrams (mg) of amygdalin. If chewed, the same amount of apple seeds may turn into 0.06 to 0.24 mg of cyanide, with a lethal dose of cyanide from apricot kernels reported as being 0.5 to 3.5 mg/kg body weight.5,6 As Authority Nutrition noted, "The exact lethal dose of apple seeds varies widely. It depends on body weight, individual tolerance and the type of apple." They offered the following table as a guide to how many apple seeds (crushed) could potentially be fatal:7 Body weight (pounds) Body weight (kg) Apple seeds (grams) Apple seeds (number) Body weight (pounds):20 (toddler) Body weight (kg): 9 Apple seeds (grams): 19–529 Apple seeds (number):27–756 Body weight (pounds): 120 Body weight (kg): 54 Apple seeds (grams): 113–3,175 Apple seeds (number):162–4,536 Body weight (pounds): 130 Body weight (kg): 59 Apple seeds (grams): 123–3,440 Apple seeds (number):176–4,914 Body weight (pounds): 140 Body weight (kg): 64 Apple seeds (grams): 132–3,704 Apple seeds (number):189–5,292 Body weight (pounds): 150 Body weight (kg): 68 Apple seeds (grams): 142–3,969 Apple seeds (number):203–5,670 Body weight (pounds): 160 Body weight (kg): 73 Apple seeds (grams): 151–4,234 Apple seeds (number):216–6,048 Body weight (pounds): 170 Body weight (kg): 77 Apple seeds (grams): 161–4,498 Apple seeds (number):229–6,426 Body weight (pounds): 180 Body weight (kg): 82 Apple seeds (grams): 170–4,763 Apple seeds (number):243–6,804 Body weight (pounds): 190 Body weight (kg): 86 Apple seeds (grams): 180–5,027 Apple seeds (number):256–7,182 Body weight (pounds): 200 Body weight (kg): 91 Apple seeds (grams): 189–5,292 Apple seeds (number):270–7,560 Laetrile, Purported Cancer Treatment, Is Made From Amygdalin As an aside, the same compound that makes apple seeds questionable — amygdalin — has been used to make the patented anti-cancer drug Laetrile. Cyanide is believed to be the active cancer-toxic ingredient in Laetrile, also known as Amigdalina B-17 or vitamin B17 (although there is very little evidence it warrants classification as a vitamin). By 1978, it was estimated that more than 70,000 Americans had tried it — despite its being banned in the U.S. since 1963. Most people obtain Laetrile from Tijuana clinics, as the agent is still legal in Mexico.8 Some have also tried to make their own anti-cancer treatment by consuming crushed apricot seeds, which can be dangerous. New York's Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center's highly respected cancer scientist Kanematsu Sugiura found that Laetrile significantly reduced the spread of lung cancer in mice,9 but the cancer research center reportedly brushed positive Laetrile studies under the rug, bowing to politics and conflicts of interest. You're More Likely to Get Cyanide Poisoning From Cassava Than Apple Seeds Cassava is a tropical root plant used in Asia, Africa and South America because it's plentiful and inexpensive. It has some notable nutritional benefits, as does tapioca, a digestive-resistant starch that's extracted from this root. What cassava has to do with apple seeds is that they both contain cyanogenic glycosides, cassavas' being a different type than that found in apples. Cassava roots contain the toxic compound linamarin, which converts to hydrogen cyanide. Improper cooking of cassava root is associated with cyanide poisoning, which can cause symptoms of vomiting, nausea, dizziness, stomach pains, headache, irreversible paralysis from a disease called konzo10 and even death. Cassava should not be eaten raw, however, if the cassava are peeled and cooked, toxic substances are removed. It should be noted that the tapioca you buy at the store or prepare from a package does not contain harmful cyanide levels, so it's perfectly safe to eat. What's the Healthiest Part of an Apple? While the debate rages on over whether apples should be consumed whole—core, seeds and all — what's not controversial is the importance of eating the peel, where much of apples' antioxidant power is contained.11 Apple peels also contain ursolic acid, which may help prevent age-related and illness-related muscle wasting.12 Since you'll be eating the peel, look for organic apples, which will be free from pesticides and other chemicals. Apples are one of the most pesticide-contaminated fruits there is, so if you're planning to eat more apples, make them organic. In addition, a wealth of research suggests that eating apples may impact your health in a number of beneficial ways • Brain Health: Apples have been found to protect neuron cells against oxidative stress-induced neurotoxicity and may play an important role in reducing the risk of neurodegenerative disorders, such as Alzheimer's disease.13 • Stroke: Eating apples is linked to a decreased risk of stroke.14 • Diabetes: Three servings of apples (and other fruits, such as blueberries and grapes) is linked to a 7 percent lower risk of type 2 diabetes.15 This may be due to their beneficial role in blood sugar regulation, as apples contain compounds that may:16 • Lessen absorption of glucose from your digestive tract • Stimulate beta cells in your pancreas to secrete insulin • Increase uptake of glucose from your blood by stimulating insulin receptors • Cancer: Apples have a number of properties that may help reduce the risk of cancer, including antimutagenic activity, antioxidant activity, anti-inflammatory mechanisms, antiproliferative and apoptosis-inducing activity, as well as "novel mechanisms on epigenetic events and innate immunity." According to the journal Planta Medica:17 "Apple products have been shown to prevent skin, mammary and colon carcinogenesis in animal models. Epidemiological observations indicate that regular consumption of one or more apples a day may reduce the risk for lung and colon cancer." • Heart Disease: Eating apples is associated with a lower risk of death from heart disease, an association that's thought to be related to their content of antioxidant flavonoids.18 Why Else Should You Eat Apples? Apples contain a wealth of nutrients and antioxidants, including quercetin, which is known to fight cancer and prevent histamine release, the latter of which may be helpful against allergy symptoms. Interestingly, children born to women who eat apples during pregnancy are also less likely to have asthma at age 5.19 Further, according to the New York Fruit Quarterly:20 "Since apples are so high in antioxidants, it is no surprise that apples, specifically, are associated with a decreased risk of chronic disease. Three studies have specifically linked apple consumption with a decreased risk for cancer … [and] a study has shown that apple and pear consumption has been associated with a decreased risk of asthma. Apple consumption has also been associated with a decreased risk of coronary heart disease … [and] a reduced risk of Type II diabetes was associated with apple and berry consumption in another major Finnish study. In the laboratory, apples and the compounds in them have properties that may explain their effects in protecting against disease. Our lab has found that apples, and especially apple peels, have powerful antioxidant activity and can greatly inhibit the growth of liver cancer and colon cancer cells. Based on results from all of these studies, it appears that apples may play a significant role in reducing the risk of a wide variety of diseases." Despite their healthy attributes, apples are a relatively high-fructose fruit, with 9.5 grams in a medium-sized apple. They should, therefore, be consumed in moderation. In addition, apple juice will contain considerably more, which is why you're far better off eating apples in their whole — not juiced — form. As for consuming the seeds, as mentioned, the amount contained in your average apple is virtually harmless.

Chelation, breath, pits and involuntary bowel movements

So now that you’ve had time to process my introduction I want to dive right into my last entry before the hospital. Discuss a bit of the uglier side of the everyday struggles of living with chronic illnesses and working towards healing. I also feel like discussing issues with doctors and treatments are necessary. I found a comprehensive medicine doctor in New York City who was willing to detox me. He told me we should wait until I know if I’m infested with mold before I start treatment ( chelation therapy ) because mold and metals can cling onto each other and not only make detoxing from one without helping the other more dangerous but more so ineffective . I was cleared for treatment by the nurse at the practice. The treatments are brutal. It’s similar to chemotherapy in the aspect that it takes the good and bad out of your body. I have never felt more drained and ill in my life. Chelation is essentially pumping your body with toxins to take out toxins. I know what you’re thinking "WHAT?!" Yeah. It’s a backwards system. Now of course there’s natural methods for this but sometimes it’s not so easy to research and to wait so long for results. Holistic treatments usually take a while before you start to see progress and I was getting impatient. My parents and I decided to move forward with chelation treatments. I got three treatments over a two week period and they were far more aggressive than anything I’ve ever experienced. From the involuntary crying for an hour, to the dizziness, nausea, excruciating pain, confusion and rage that ensued I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. I left my first treatment out of my mind. My perception was off, my vision blurred, I could barely walk. I clung onto my mom for dear life. However, my parents were very set on treatment and I can understand why. Watching your kid suffering for so long and feeling like you finally found a solution must be hard to let go of when you see it’s not working well. They convinced me it was going to get worse before it was going to get better. Sometimes that is the reality of treatment so I stayed on board with trying it again. I was committed to bettering myself so I told myself this was it. This is how I was going to heal. Second treatment still felt like torture but I let it slide. Talked myself through it. Told myself this is only temporary and I would feel the benefits soon but there was a little voice in the back of my head telling me this is not a good idea. I ignored it. The third treatment I felt like I could kill someone from the pain alone. I couldn’t even comprehend the amount of pain I was in and I expressed to my parents that I didn’t know if I could handle this specific method. They knew my reaction to the treatment wasn’t just getting worse before getting better. It was just hurting me and there was zero benefit. I have high C4A levels which usually directly correlates with mold or Lyme and the other illnesses that could correlate with it came up negative in blood work. Since my Lyme test – came up negative he assumed I had mold toxicity. Which means I shouldn’t have been cleared in the first place. A clear miscommunication between my doctor and his nurse. However when I went to the hospital I was told there’s no mold in my system confirming that Lyme is coming up as false negatives. The problem with Lyme is it hides in your body. It is one of the most difficult illnesses to detect. Also from doing lots of research at the hospital I found out about the MTHFR genetic mutation something I have yet to be tested for but would make perfect sense for my physical ailments. It’s directly correlated to fibromyalgia, adrenal fatigue, heavy metal poisoning, and more, it’s where you’re missing certain compounds so your body is unable to excrete poison naturally so when you get chelation, the treatment debilitates you because the poison cannot leave through that method, it just recycles in your body. There are so many elements to chronic illness which is why it takes years to get a diagnosis, but one thing I’ve learned from my hospital stay is I have the power to heal myself. Getting a diagnosis is important for multiple reasons but relying on doctors will not save me. I can and will be my own hero. I will be the savior of my life’s story. No one can take that away from me. That motivated me to move forward with researching more natural treatments. Which I will touch on in future blogs. There’s lots of clues I started catching on to after the chelation treatments so as horrible as they were , they were necessary. I think there is beauty and lessons in all the lows it’s just about allowing yourself to fully see and acknowledge them. This is an excerpt out of my last journal entry before the hospital about a month ago. “I noticed that the metals usually excrete out of my face and arm pits. I get a lot of large red bumps on my face and my armpits smell like middle aged bean burritos with salsa left out in the sun for WAY too long most days. I knew something was shifting when my skin was clearing up, my pits smelled fine without deodorant and when my mouth tasted and smelled like rusty car parts and blood. The metallic taste in my mouth is over powering and I don’t even want to breathe or speak out loud because I don’t want myself or anyone to smell this cesspool of poison. I realize now that I’ve been sick for way longer than I’ve acknowledged because I’ve always struggled with my breath smelling and tasting quite odd, and my skin looking over run with craters and well the arm pits having their own agenda (my apologies to anyone that has dated me and reads this, the smells were out of my control). I remember being 21 about to go on a date , brushing my teeth and drowning my mouth in mouth wash to still find this unwavering metallic taste lingering . I remember being super embarrassed about my breath but also confused. I was always big on hygiene. I flossed, brushed three times a day, used mouth wash, a tongue scrapper and ate healthy but I was still missing what was right in front of me. The poison. Since were on the topic of bodily fluids and looks and scents that can be considered more on the disgusting side but to me it’s just a normal Tuesday I wanted to add in one more. Sporadic Involuntary bowel movements. I don’t know if I’ve ever read anyone’s personal story about this but it’s something that needs to be discussed. I am sure I’m not the only person in the world struggling with this. I was reminded of it when I shit myself in the shower today unexpectedly. Instead of getting angry at my body, crying and feeling sorry for myself as I would of in the past, I just allowed it to be. I cleaned what I could and had some help. This is something I’ve been struggling with for the past six months or so. In the summer it was horrible, maybe the heat? I’m unsure. To some degree I don’t know what provokes my body and why it randomly gets better on its own but I’m learning to be okay with it. I had an accident about two or three times a month starting in June and then it started to calm down in September. I was scared to go out but I would anyway because I knew I would be on my own side and clean myself up when it happened and if I had a friend with me who would comfort me through it , I would be okay. I love summer and I needed an escape from my suffering. I shit myself at water parks, at beaches, even at my house just not being able to make it to a bathroom in time, I would go on dates and pray that I could just kept my body intact for a night. I would never dream of shiting myself by accident at 23 years old and above all learning how to just accept that this is just a symptom of my suffering. Of course there was initial embarrassment, a feeling of discomfort, anger and sadness but I came to learn that this is just life and an added component to all of your vital organs being infested with poison. My body needed me to be understanding, compassionate and loving. My body did not need judgement, hatred or embarrassment for simply handling releasing the poison within however it chose to. Today I made love to my poison. Today I reacted in a loving manner to my body’s impulsive actions. I kept rubbing my stomach and telling myself its okay. I apologized to myself for not having control over that aspect of my body yet and I felt calm and accepting. I cleaned myself up and moved on with my day. It didn’t ruin my day, it didn’t shift my mood. It was just an obstacle and I made the choice to love myself through it.” If anyone else struggles with this I know how hard it is but it really does get better. Be gentle, remain compassionate, and reassure your body that things will shift. Make love to your poison and the poison leaves. Be the best friend you can possibly be to yourself.