#The Creativity Cure

[danieltlukasik]

Can Creativity Help You Heal Depression? An Interview with Psychiatrist, Dr. Carrie Barron

  Dr. Carrie Barron is a board-certified psychiatrist on the Columbia College of Physicians an Surgeons clinical faculty who also has a private practice in New York City.  She has published in peer-reviewed journals, won several academic awards, and presented original works related to creativity and self-expression at national meetings of the American Psychoanalytic Association. Along with her…

[blue-eyed-author]

Some of my writer’s block cures:

Handwrite. (If you already are, write in a different coloured pen.)

Write outside or at a different location.

Read.

Look up some writing prompts.

Take a break. Do something different. Comeback to it later.

Write something else. (A different WIP, a poem, a quick short story, etc.)

Find inspiring writing music playlists on YouTube. (Themed music, POV playlists, ambient music, etc.)

Do some character or story prompts/questions to get a better idea of who or what you’re writing.

Word sprints. Set a timer and write as much as you can. Not a lot of time to overthink things.

Set your own goals and deadlines.

Write another scene from your WIP. (You don’t have to write in order.) Write a scene you want to write, or the ending. (You can change it or scrap it if it doesn’t fit into your story later.)

Write a scene for your WIP that you will never post/add to your story. A prologue, a different P.O.V., how your characters would react in a situation that’s not in your story, a flashback, etc.

Write down a bunch of ideas. Things that could happen, thing that will never happen, good things, bad things.

Change the weather (in the story of course.)

Feel free to add your own.

[bennidraws]

lovers, lovers

[aemulatorizrafel]

I haven't drawn these lil fan cures in a long time...

[woolying]

I LOVE U FANGANS !!! I LOVE U DR OCS !!!

just a few i enjoy <3 yay sooo cool ooough

dr mira : @gooseagain8 drsg : @danganronpasurvivorsguilt dr50th : @okthatsgreat drdw : @sir-sunny

the stupid idiot is mine teehee

[jakoloredart]

[clegfly]

“Of course you have an Other Brother,” he says, waving off her denial as he opens some nearby cabinets. “Who else would I be if I wasn’t?”

Small WIP sketch of the Other Brother from IDKSomethingClever99’s fic “Mari in the Pink Palace”!!! OMORI and Coraline are my two biggest interests ever so this fic was like winning the lottery for me. Not to mention how good it is… please go read it ragh

[zukoromantic]

My precure color opinions because why not. Don't read if you think you'll be upset reading different opinions, i just wanna put this out there haha😭:

Summer is white, let her be white (this is the one i'm the most passionate about). I didn't even KNOW there was a debate on this until this year, what in the world. None of that rainbow or pink nonsense. I don't even know why she would be classified as rainbow officially. Especially when the color they TRY to force her into is pink (for example saying today's color is pink before the outro). I heard she was created to be white but i don't know the source of that so that might be wrong

i agree with Finale being golden, she gets to be golden as a treat <3. She is not purple, y'all are just mean, compare her to actual purple cures. A golden theme really suits her in my opinion, it's beautiful and elegant like her. There should be more golden cures that have some some golden accents imo :D

Parfait is green to me with rainbow sub-color, i KNOW it makes no sense and she is just a rainbow cure, but that's what she is in my brain somehow acejcdksvd

Cosmo is blue with rainbow sub-color, but SHOULD have been rainbow. Maybe with blue sub-color bc it Does with the team arrangement (also should have had her cat form in cure form but that's beside the point). I heard they WANTED to make her rainbow but weren't allowed?! Unsure about that too though

i haven't seen hugtto yet but ma cherie literally looks so pink acejcdjd. You're red? Whatever you say, girl, you can be anything you wanna be, who am i to tell you otherwise <3

Milky as green is fine, but i see why people want turquoise to just be its own category. I think her color shouldn't look different though, she looks great

similair for Lillian, except that i've seen some people giving her a wonderful light green and she would look gorgeous!

Nyammy can be a blue cure if she wants <3. Especially next to Lillian, it's obvious how white is their base color and they define themselves via the accents. But also she is literally the whitest cure ever made, let alone the whitest blue cure wcejev

Felice is fine as green cure and she's beautiful

there should be more pink non-leaders like Butterfly

bring back black as cure color. Also brown and grey would be gorgeous <3

i actually prefer when cures look kinda colorful and they AREN'T monotone. The main color is really more about the vibe in my opinion, like with Finale and Nyammy haha!

This is all light-hearted, just thought it would be fun to post these bc everyone has Some precure color opinions xD! 🙌 It's so funny how color discourse is such a serious topic in precure fandom CSJDVEK

If anyone wants to share their own opinions, you can tell but please only if it's in good faith 🙏

[copperbadge]

I’m so sorry to you and the helpful anon but idk what CBT means and my brain supplied “Creative Bitch Trauma” and now I’m giggling

I mean, a significant portion of my readers probably went straight to "Cock and Ball Torture" which is the other CBT.

(It stands for Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, but I feel like Creative Bitch Trauma is an appropriate translation.)

[how2forgive]

i'm feeling this so much lately

[sugarsnappeases]

guys!!!! i am reading!!!! and i am writing!!!!! and i am having visions about this cool art thing i wanna do when i get home!!!!! my zest for life is sooooo back baby oh my god

[tildeathiwillwrite]

The Elf Beneath the Ice, Part 2

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Reluctant Caretaker

Fandom: Original Work

WIP: The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure (Tales from Valaria)

<- Previous Part | Next Part ->

Words: 1300

Tag List: @badthingshappenbingo @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf @the-ellia-west

CW: unconsciousness, hypothermia, noncon undressing (nonsexual), old wounds, referenced plague, referenced injuries, panic attack

A/N: and so an unlikely partnership is born.

----------

With every step, he cursed his own curiosity. His business was with a lycanthrope, not with an unconscious, shivering, dripping-wet, surprisingly lightweight elf. Dammit. He couldn’t afford to look after him, but he couldn’t leave him there either!

Damn him and his bleeding heart to the depths.

When Draven reached the cave, his coat sleeves were soaked from the freezing water streaming from the elf’s body. By the light of the fire, the elf’s lips appeared blue, his skin pale and clammy. He still shook, his body trying to fight off the cold. That was a good sign.

However, he wouldn’t last much longer in his sodden clothes and armor.

Draven hissed through his teeth before laying the elf down as close to the fire as possible, shrugging off his coat and slipping off his gloves. Mumbling an apology to the lifeless elf, he quickly removed his vambraces, setting them beside the fire to dry. Hopefully, the water and the heat wouldn’t ruin the leather. Even if it did, if the elf was reasonable he would value his life over the armor.

The pauldrons came off next, then the breastplate, then the boots and graves and cuisses. This still left the elf in sopping cotton clothing, which still wasn’t great, but Draven had to draw the line somewhere and he drew it after pulling off the elf’s tunic and laying it out flat to dry.

He raised an eyebrow at the bandages wrapped around his guest’s shoulders and upper back before tossing his coat over the elf and sitting back, drawing his pistol and clicking through the chambers, thinking.

Click, click, click.

The potential for this elf to be the lycanthrope he sought was greater than zero. He was in the right area, in the right form. The bandaged wounds could be from the bite that transmitted the disease. He’d never heard of elves contracting the condition, but it was plausible. He didn't know everything. The elves had closed their borders shortly after the outbreak, and he’d heard rumors that they exiled anyone who got infected.

Click, click, click.

It was also possible that the elf was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, completely unrelated to Draven’s job.

Click, click, click.

Neither of those options explained how he’d gotten under the thick ice in the first place. By all reasonable assumptions, he should be dead. No other breaks in the ice implied that he’d been underneath before the lake froze. 

Click, click, click.

Which was impossible.

Click, click, click.

Even for elves.

Click, click, click.

Draven didn’t know how long the lake had been frozen, it was deep within the Fells, entirely possible he was the first person beside the elf and the lycanthrope to come across it in recent months. Long enough that the elf would’ve drowned or frozen to death ages ago.

Click, click, click.

He hissed between his teeth and tucked away the pistol, staring into the darkness.

Movement roused him from a doze. Draven opened his eyes to find the outside world beginning to lighten from the coming dawn, and his guest sitting up, a look of confusion on his face. He nodded to the elf. “‘Morning.”

The elf’s eyes darted around the small cave, taking in the dying remnants of the fire, his armor and tunic laying out to dry, Draven’s coat over him, and Draven himself. His eyes, appearing yellowish in the firelight, narrowed. “…where am I?” His tone was cold like the icy water had frozen it over.

“An old wolf den not far from the lake you crawled out of.” Draven leaned forward conspiratorially. “How’d you get yourself in such a bind, anyway? Did’ya get caught when it froze over three weeks ago?”

The elf glanced out the mouth of the cave, a brief look of realization and horror crossing his face before he smoothed it into a carefully neutral expression. “I…” he looked down, as if in surprise, and moved his right hand out from under the coat, the one closed in a tight fist since he’d emerged from the lake. 

His fingers uncurled, revealing a metal cylinder nestled in the palm of his hand. It was about as thick as a pencil, with strange symbols carved into its surface. Runes, perhaps? The elf’s jaw tightened as he stared at it before closing the hand back around it.

Draven raised an eyebrow and almost asked what the object was, but he decided against it. “What’s your name?”

The elf’s eyes flicked up. “I am Octavian de Silv.” The words came forcefully as if he were trying to remind himself of the fact rather than inform Draven.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Draven replied, sticking out his hand. “Draven Cozenson, lycanthrope hunter of the Guild in Zariya.”

Octavian ignored the offered hand. “Why?”

“Why what?” Draven stubbornly kept his hand out. “You’re supposed to shake the hand. Proper manners in the human lands.”

“Why do all this to make sure I don’t freeze?”

Draven sighed and dropped his hand. “Truth be told, I’m incredibly curious as to how you got yourself underneath the ice. You’re lucky I was in the area on a job, otherwise you’d probably be freezing to death on the lake.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“I think it is my concern, actually,” Draven snapped. “For all I know, you’re the lycanthrope that attacked Belldeme, killing three and injuring eight, before escaping so deep into the Fells the village had to hire someone like me to track you down!”

Octavian blinked. “…what?”

Draven hissed in frustration. “What part is so difficult to comprehend?! The lycanthrope bit, the attack bit, the casualties, my reasons for dragging you to safety?!”

The elf flinched back slightly at his outburst. “I…” he stammered, “I’m sorry, I do not know what ‘lycanthrope’ means. The translation… I never learned it.”

Draven frowned in suspicion, but Octavian didn’t seem to be lying. He genuinely appeared confused. Damn the elves and their new border policy shit. “I see. A lycanthrope, as humans call them, is someone who is infected with a disease that forces them to transform against their will into a bloodthirsty monster every full moon. At least, that’s what we’ve figure out.”

“And… how long has this term been in use?”

“What kind of a… fine. I’m not sure, at least seven or eight years, around when the first outbreaks happened. How do you not know this?”

Octavian’s expression changed to something akin to desperation. “What of the Draigo?”

Draven shook his head, mystified. “Depths if I know. They barricaded themselves in their damn strongholds years ago.”

What little color that had come back to Octavian’s face drained away. Whatever he had been hoping to hear, Draven’s words were the opposite. His breathing quickened, coming in short, ragged gasps, his eyes glazed over, and without warning he jumped to his feet, Draven’s coat falling to the floor.

Draven jumped, half-expecting him to dash out through the mouth of the cave. Instead, Octavian, free hand running through his still-damp hair, paced to the back of the cave, mumbling in rapid Elven. He clutched the metal rod tightly like a lifeline, and every few seconds he reached for the bandages on his shoulders and upper back as if reminding himself of their presence.

Where has he been the past eight years if he doesn’t know about the outbreak? And why ask about the Draigo? They haven’t been seen for at least the past five, at least not openly.

Draven glanced outside, noting the rising sun. He needed to get moving if he wanted to catch up to the lycanthrope. But something about Octavian still nagged at him, something set him on edge. Not just how the elf seemed out of touch or crazy, pacing at the back of the cave. He still hadn’t answered how he’d gotten under the ice in the first place.

Draven trusted his gut, more often than not. And right now, his gut told him that he shouldn’t leave Octavian de Silv alone.

Not yet anyway.

[knifknight]

Writing Tip

If you get stuck on a part of whatever you are writing; instead of just staring at a blank Google Doc page. Switch things up and write down some ideas in a notebook using your favorite pen to switch things up.

[autisticfoxgirl333]

CUTIE PIES IN DIFFERENT MEDIAS!😘🥰😍😻❤️🩷💖♥️💕💓❣️

[yunogf]

might be able to post some edits today ☺️

[girlfromthecrypt]

Something in the corner of the room [Lullaby - The Cure]

[horror short inspired by Lullaby (The Cure). Featuring Basil Laurier from my interactive fiction WIP titled Such Happy Campers.]

Basil is lying wide awake. His gaze flits from one corner of the room to the other. He can’t see the door, and he can’t see the nightstand, because try as he might, he cannot turn his head. He cannot move an inch of his body. This, he is used to. 

This is not what he’s afraid of.

The low, drawn-out scratching sound coming from above him makes his stomach turn. The thing’s many legs dragging across the wallpaper. The noise is coming from the top right corner of the room, just out of sight. Basil wants to look, he wants to. He has seen the thing before, but strangely enough, his mind is wiped of the memory shortly before its return. He thinks it may have access to his mind. Maybe it deletes the image of itself from his brain on purpose, just to terrify him anew. Basil rolls his eyes up as far as he can, straining the nerves until a flash of pain makes him blink several times. He wants to see, be it simply to prepare himself. At least mentally. However, given that he is denied this chance at confrontation, all he can do is continue to lie still, listen and wait.

And the thing is taking its sweet time tonight. 

He hears the scrape of its legs as it slowly descends from the ceiling. 

He changes his mind. He doesn’t want to see, he doesn’t he doesn’t as it creeps closer and closer and climbs onto his bed

The mattress shifts

Basil presses his eyes shut

Foul breath washes over his face, making him gag deep down in his throat. A tongue slithers across his skin, from chin to cheek, wet and rough. It rolls over his left eye, trying to squeeze it open, trying to squeeze in

Basil wakes up with a cry.

His heart is pounding, sweat slickens his skin. He takes several deep, cleansing breaths as the world around him swims into focus. He’s not in his old room at all. He’s in his camper van, sitting upright in the shelf-like bed. The many multi-hued fairy lights shine down on him from above, providing a soothing glow. The little bluetooth speaker on the floor is still playing soothing white noise. 

He’s alright.

It was just another dream.

He’s alright.