#but i have a debilitating needle phobia so

[ghosttotheparty]

.

[cupidsdescendant]

could i please have a thing of ms pauling, pyro, or soldier dealing with an s/o who has to have a needle stuck in them for some important reason (medically necessary blood draw, teatnus shot, etc), but has a debilitating phobia of needles (not only kids have those) to the point that they have a fight flight freeze or fawn reaction upon being faced with the prospect of interacting with a needle? apologies if this is dumb

Trypanophobia Y/N x ms Pauling, soldier and pryo

This is a cute one and no! It’s not dumb at all <3 tysm for the request! ❀✿＊*

General setting: Y/N was getting a checkup with medic and it was time for their flu shot. Y/N was patient up until the needle breezed against their skin and flinched making medic plunge the needle into their arm. Y/N was frozen, staring and screaming as their hands started to shake violently and their eyes filling up with tears

Miss Pauling:

-shocked, surprised, nervous. Had no idea what to do, even she started to shake

-Most of the time was spent with Miss Pauling going “UHH—HAHHHH-!” And scurrying around to find something that’ll help. Medic also losing his shit

-obviously not a doctor, Pauling came back empty handed and just held Y/N’s cheek reminding them that they’ll be okay.

-“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m here. Everything will be okay” Pauling says endearingly as she strokes their cheek and tightly holds onto Y/N’s other hand as medic pulls the needle out.

-Pauling wipes their tears away with a handkerchief and scolds Medic. “Seriosuly, you’re getting paid for a reason. Aren’t you a doctor?”

-“vell, “ex” doctor to be exact” he says back in a sassy town as he chuckles to himself and removes the syringe.

-Pauling help cleans your wound with medic and you get the shot on your other arm.

-she rests with you in a big blanket and rants about how she’s this close to firing medic XD. She’ll also talk about her day and how hard it is for her to finish things.

-both of you make each other laugh, so after that shot incident both ramble on embarrassing moments and you guys laugh so hard you cry and your lungs hurt

-you fall asleep before her, and she kisses your head, gets up and finishes some work.

Soldier:

-walks into the room after originally coming in to tell Medic he may have rabies.

-“Hiya, Doc! I got this weird- WHOAAHWHAO! Cupcake!” He grabs onto his helmet.

-He runs over and examines you while you’re literally bleeding out and puts his index finger on his chin “hmmm”

-Eureka! He’s gotten an idea! Soldier runs off to get you some rubbing alcohol because

He overheard Medic talking about how it’s needed for wounds. He runs over and …

-brings back a bottle of whiskey and pours it all over your wound and medics hands.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!!???!!” Medic screams out in anger “I’m helping!” Soldier responds with

-“GET ZE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW” Medic screams as he points to the door. Soldier walks out of it and sits on the floor playing with a bug he found

-he waits a while until Medic allows him back into the room and he walks over to comfort you

-“Heya cupcake, how ya doin?” He says as he rubs his back “I got you something!”

-“what is it?” Y/N asks. Soldier hands Y/N..a cupcake! 🧁!! What I nice champ isn’t he?

-soldier would compliment and tell you that you’re doing great after the whole thing and makes sure you’re happy

-After it all he asks Medic to give you a lollipop and then an extra one for himself.

Pyro:

-“ Mudda murdder mudda!!!” Pyro says in shock. Seeing a needle stuck in your arm and his dear Y/N scared is terrifying

-he pushes Medic away and pulls the needle out himself. The blood splatters everywhere

-“PYRO PLEASE LEAVE-!!!”

-“MRRDA MUDDAH!” Pyro angrily yells back with. (Translation: I wanna help!!!)

-Pyro will help by putting pressure on your wound and hugs you from behind as he

-he rests his head on your shoulder and you can hear cooing and “shhh’s” coming from his mask to comfort you

-Medic will obviously step in and Pyro watches from afar and he operates on you and cleans everything up

-Pyro is really sweet about the whole thing and so after you’re done he’ll give you a drawing!

-it’s you and him in a field of unicorns and flowers with sparkles and rainbows all over, the writing says “good job” sloppily

-“Thank you, pyro I appreciate this ^__^”

-A rubbery kiss comes onto your cheek when Pyro kisses you with their mask on still and hugs you tightly

-“mudda mudda mrdder!” (Translation: get well soon!!)

[fawnshy]

the good news is my appointment with the psychiatrist went really well and she seems lovely but the bad news is I need to get a blood draw before she can prescribe stimulants and I have a debilitating phobia of needles so I'm going to just die actually

[workscounselingcenter]

Spooky Season

It’s the spookiest time of the year, so I thought I would write about something else that can be spooky year round: phobias. Phobias are a type of anxiety disorder in which a person experiences an intense and out of proportion response to something. Common phobias are things like animals, needles, certain places. Having a phobia is a debilitating disorder in which an individual consistently has an extreme reaction of fear and anxiety in response to a certain stimulus. The disorder causes impairment and often causes the individual to change their routine to avoid the specific feared stimulus. Phobias are a mental health diagnosis that is treatable and actually has high success rates. However, many people with phobias avoid treatment due to the uncomfortable process that is treating their phobia.

According to the NIH, about 12.5% of adults will have a phobia at some point in their life. It is a fairly common mental health disorder that is treatable by helping the individual face their fears and learn how to cope with those emotions that arise. Even if you don’t have a phobia, it’s likely that you’ve experienced some intense fear over something at some point in your life (going to the dentist, needles, fear of flying, etc.). Since we cannot always avoid the things that we are afraid of or that cause us stress, I have decided to compile some helpful ideas for the next time you have to do that thing you’re afraid of.

Find a distraction. For those with fears of shots, staring at the shot and thinking about it will not be a helpful strategy. So it can be helpful to find something else to focus on. Play a game on your phone, bring a fidget toy, try to see how many things in the room that are orange, etc.

Bring a friend. Sometimes our fears can be things like places, like an airplane, and being there can be super scary. Having a loved one with you can help calm you down and see that your friend is okay and likely so are you. Hold their hand, have them talk to you, there are lots of options when you have a friend.

Remember to breathe! When we are scared, oftentimes our heart rate increases and our breathing pattern changes. It can be helpful to focus on taking some deep breaths. There are tons of breathing exercises you can try. Inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth. Pretend to blow out birthday candles. Breathing for certain counts of time. Pick whatever works for you.

Of course these are just a few options, so you can use what feels helpful and discard the rest because mental health is all about what works for you. If you find yourself being incapacitated by your fears and changing your routine due to them, you may have a phobia and it could be worth bringing it up to a therapist and potentially seeking treatment. It is scary, but there is help out there!

[wetchickenbreast]

i finally convinced my parents to let me get the covid vaccine omg omg omg 

[lastoneout]

Do any disabled people out there have any tips for getting a wheelchair when you know you need one but your doctor disagrees and won't help and you also can't afford like $1300 to buy one on your own?

For reference I have one of these bad boys that I bought myself for like $100 on Craigslist:

But as most of you likely know these things are pretty useless for getting yourself around in. The leg rests keep my knees at a weird angle that hurts, I have to move my arms weird to push myself, and the arm rests rub my skin raw. What I really, REALLY need is something like this:

But all of the charities in my area mostly just refurbish donated chairs and then give them away and I highly doubt a lot of $1000+ ultra-lightweight chairs are ending up in the donation bin. The rest of the ones I found don't even seem to do any sort of assistance for buying chairs, they just offer services for people who already have them.

I saw my doctor back in May and despite being at an average pain level of like 4-5 and not being able to walk or stand for more than an hour or two at a time without pain she insisted if I started using a chair I would "never get out of it again" and that instead I should go to pain management and physical therapy and try acupuncture and all these other things to manage the pain. I did try all of those(except acupuncture as I have a debilitating phobia of needles and laying on a table while they get shoved in my body sounds like actual hell)and they haven't really made much of a difference. I do have another appointment with her next week and I'm gonna bring it up again, but I am worried she's just not gonna listen and insist I just deal with the pain.

So yeah if anyone has any tips for finding groups who help people buy wheelchairs or just convincing your doctor you actually need one I would love to hear them. I'm so fucking tired of being stuck at home all the time when I have things to do because I don't have a mobility aid that will actually help. I've put nearly four months of my life on hold trying all sorts of things to help the pain while being in pain and unable to go to parks or shopping or appointments on my own and I am so tired of it. I need change.

(If anyone is curious I have several bulging disks as well as spinal stenosis which haven't responded to the treatments they have tried, if anything the pain is just getting worse, so I'm likely going to need surgery to help, and on top of that my ocular nerves are swollen and giving my migraines that are so bad I keep missing my physical therapy appointments. This will likely take months to resolve and for me to see improvements, and even then I also am hyper mobile and have arthritis so the pain truly is never going to fully go away, and so I need a wheelchair to help me exist and go places and do things until I am able to start PT again and get back to walking.)

[headspace-hotel]

Last place I lived, there were a ton of proverbs/sayings to the tune of "trip to the doctor will damage you more than the disease": it seemed a given, the abuse & lack of power. The chronic pain community on tumblr's also really good about not taking shit from drs after being mistreated too many times. I think older ppl are treated with less abuse in medical setting, partly b/c Doctors Be Like That & partially b/c older people Take No Shit & are very assertive about what can/can't be done to 'em

I’ve talked a lot (sort of?) on here about the pervasive problems with how doctors treat people, and how harmful that is to autistic people specifically. Mostly because I, specifically, have a horribly debilitating fear of going to the doctor that I feel like I can’t/shouldn’t refer to as “trauma” but that “phobia” doesn’t really describe at all. Like…I’m incredibly good at ignoring/managing anxiety, but medical things are a whole other tier. I straight up can’t go in a doctor’s office without shaking like a chihuahua. I went just to get tested for covid last year and crashed so hard from the adrenaline that I was too exhausted to do anything but lie in bed for like two days.

I especially hate needles, and for a couple years a while back the smell of rubbing alcohol would trigger shooting pain in my arms. It was fucking weird.

The thing thats fucked up is that the fear wasn’t really linked to being actually exposed to the thing, like with a phobia. I have a lot of nightmares about medical stuff when I’m anxious, kind of always have? I developed a lot of super debilitating fears of different when I was a preteen having panic attacks for the first time (fun) and most of them linked in some way to medical things. For a solid year or two of my life I was 100% convinced I had any of a number of serious illnesses, and it only hit me this past year how most of them were things that were 100% treatable. It was never like…cancer or something that could realistically threaten my life. The fear always centered on like…being hospitalized. Because that was The Worst Thing Imaginable, like my ability to imagine bad things just stopped there (and I was a kid who was like. Very, very, very much aware of my own mortality). My brain never got to the concept that “okay but if that happened they would be able to help you and you would be okay” because I couldn’t conceptualize anything coming “after” Medical Treatment.

I feel like it’s linked to a few bad experiences I had as a very young kid, but it wouldn’t have gotten this bad if my experiences with doctors weren’t so generally pervasively bad. I’m autistic. I don’t like unpredictability. I don’t like to be touched by strangers. It gets harder for me to communicate when I’m stressed. For most of my life my experience with doctors was “person in position of authority that feels entitled to access to your body and will do things to your body without explaining them,” and now I’m on levels of neurosis you mortals can’t even imagine.

But there’s the initial damage, right? And then there’s the damage that comes of everyone around you insisting your fears are irrational and there’s something wrong with you. I always hated the label of “phobia” because I was supposed to accept that it was irrational to be afraid of being forced to give unlimited access to my body to a stranger that wouldn’t communicate with me or treat me decently.

Everything I read about how to free myself from the horrible nightmare-scape I was in assumed there was something wrong with me. It took so, so long for me to encounter anything that even considered the idea that maybe there was something wrong with how I was treated, instead of something being wrong with my feelings.

And this is the thing that’s really…traumatic about being autistic. Your boundaries are wrong; people aren’t wrong for violating them. Your behavior is wrong; people aren’t wrong for bullying you. If something traumatizes you that most people can “get over,” it’s not traumatic, it’s something wrong with you.

Long story short, this is how I learned how our understanding of psychological harm is prescriptive, not descriptive.

People who otherwise understand bodily autonomy get really weird about this subject. Because in our culture, doctors are Authority Figures, and they’re trying to help you, so you shouldn’t be assertive in setting the terms for your care, you shouldn’t refuse examinations you’re uncomfortable with, you shouldn’t kick medical professionals to the curb when they can’t or won’t communicate with you in the way you need. You can’t even express frustration without people siding with the doctor, because they have a degree, and that means people can’t be abusive bastards, or something.

It’s not consent if there isn’t a real, informed choice, even if you technically did agree. We understand this about sex. It’s not “Yes” if “No” is not an option. And yet, medical professionals regularly will try to coerce and pressure you into letting them do things to your body, and often completely obscure the fact that a choice is available. “You have to do X,” they will tell me, conveniently leaving out the fact that no the fuck I do not.

“We recommend that you do X, here are the benefits and risks” is acceptable. “Our policy is not to do Y unless you’ve had X” is acceptable. But “you have to do X” is not, because it’s not true, because I can get up and leave at any second, watch me, I’ll do it right now. If you have a problem with that, well, your move. I spent 1.5 years in Krav Maga, I’m faster than you, and I bite.

If you bring this up to people they will be horrified, because there might be risks to refusing something recommended! People that otherwise perfectly understand consent often cannot understand this, and regress into the mindset of a Republican politician when you have this conversation with them. Suddenly, bodily autonomy does not matter, and actually other people should make the choices about your body because you might make the risky choice, and obviously you shouldn’t have the right to do that, even though it’s your body.

Let’s think about this. Let’s be thoughtful. Who will be healthiest in the long run, the person who learns that their feelings and choices matter in a doctor’s office and is able to build up a good relationship with medical professionals, or the person who experiences coercion and disrespect and ends up so psychologically fucked up that they avoid medical professionals even when they’re sick, in pain, and suffering?

My body is for me, you have access to it because you are PROVIDING A SERVICE TO ME. The moment you disregard my choices, you are no longer doing your job.

As far as I am concerned, it’s the same mistake people make with dogs. “No” is viewed as disrespect, just as a growl is viewed as disrespect. But “No” is polite. It’s “Here are my boundaries. You’re free to back off.” Instead of just, you know, biting.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

A bit more background on Phobias

A phobia is an overwhelming and debilitating fear of an object, place, situation, feeling or animal.

Phobias are more pronounced than fears. They develop when a person has an exaggerated or unrealistic sense of danger about a situation or object.

If a phobia becomes very severe, a person may organise their life around avoiding the thing that's causing them anxiety. As well as restricting their day-to-day life, it can also cause a lot of distress.

People with phobias often have panic attacks. These can be very frightening and distressing. The symptoms often occur suddenly and without warning.

As well as overwhelming feelings of anxiety, a panic attack can cause physical symptoms, such as:

sweating

trembling

hot flushes or chills

shortness of breath or difficulty breathing

a choking sensation

rapid heartbeat (tachycardia)

pain or tightness in the chest

a sensation of butterflies in the stomach

nausea

headaches and dizziness

feeling faint

numbness or pins and needles

dry mouth

a need to go to the toilet

ringing in your ears

confusion or disorientation

Sound like anyone we know and love??

This is making me thing about the episode being Eddie centric and the fact that he’s left the 118 for Christopher, but it’s not going to make him better.

 I think it might in fact make him worse (the fear part) because sometimes you have to get worse to get better - and not doing the job he loves, surrounded by the family he chose, even if its for Christopher, is going to have major repercussions.

Also thinking about Christophers ‘You could be dead next year” well its gonna be next year when the episode airs, so what if Christopher thinks his dad has died? - his fear becoming reality! 

Carla saying ‘I wish my biggest fear about your job was you getting a paper cut’ is making me think things too - like there was a woman from Hawaii who got sepsis from a papercut and nearly died!! - but im thinking more along the lines of Eddie finding a ‘boring’ job and ending up in another hostage or gun related situation?!

[ktae]

so in the past couple months i have gone from having a truly debilitating and healthcare-obstructing needle phobia to getting two shots voluntarily with a third scheduled and now i'm so excited bc i feel actually capable of getting so many vaccines i'm overdue for!!! i never got the hpv one so that's top priority and i'm sure i'm overdue for a couple boosters. i havent had a flu shot since idk before high school probably and i have also avoided the dentist partially due to my phobia of needles (the dentist also freaks me out but if i can handle needles on any level i think i can work my way up to getting a filling). and although an iv blood draw is gonna take a while longer to work up to, i can eventually get a blood test to find out if my mood disorders might be related to a thyroid issue! also just like facing my severe lifelong phobia and feeling like i finally have some control over it is an amazing feeling and it makes me feel more capable of doing other things in life i want to do

[harryssanc]

Painful breasts and blood tests

I was diagnosed with mastalgia when i was 16 after an ultrasound brought back nothing worrying and 5 years later I've been referred for another one. But this time, the pain is severe its debilitating for me. I can no longer bind my chest which as a trans person is very hard for me. The other day when a gp examined me she suggested i may have a cyst but i also got referred for blood tests to rule out a tumour and check my hormones.

Im so sick of the constant pain and cannot wait for a mastectomy. I had the blood tests today and i have a phobia of needles which doesnt bother me so much now that im having them quite often. But due to me having to investigate my breasts, i have to wait longer for a dianoses for my chronic fatigue. I simply cant afford to go to the gps as often as i should.

[cabbagedkappa]

23 28 38

23 (Do you believe in aliens?) Yeah, but not like the stereotypical grey alien trope. There’s gotta be some kind of unintelligible foreign life out there- it’s honestly more believable than a lot of the actual one-in-a-billion scientific discoveries that have actually been scientifically confirmed. I doubt I’ll be around to see any of it, though.

28 (How are you, really?) At the moment, pretty good. I got out of the house today, and I sketched out a character design, so I’d say that’s pretty decent. Currently binging my favorite music analysis YouTuber and relishing in my gender. My shoulder hurts a little, but that’s nothing new.

38 (Do you have any phobias?) I’ve probably mentioned before (likely on my previous account), I have pretty debilitating emetophobia. As much as the world conspires against me, I’ve gone, what, 6-7 years now without throwing up? Knock on wood. I also have a mild phobia of needles, which made getting my COVID vaccines pretty stressful. I powered through the first dose through sheer adrenaline alone and then passed out afterward, so at least I was more mentally prepared for the second. I’m thankful the side effects were very brief and minor- seeing others have such bad reactions was honestly the source of most of my fear.

[capstellium]

oh yeah also completely unrelated but i would love to get the COVID vaccine when it comes out but i have an extremely debilitating phobia of needles and all medical situations so anyone in a similar boat if you have tips or advice that would be great. like there’s seriously something very wrong with me i can’t even sit in the waiting room with my boyfriend when he goes to get his flu shot. i looked this up and found a listicle about it and the third thing on the list was “try to calm down” so . obviously i need some real advice here

[strangecore]

Medical Phobias

(TW: talk of medical stuff, anxiety, disability, ableism, mental health, fatphobia, brief mention of weight/size, and medical trauma) (also I’m tagging anything that could be a trigger in case y’all have it blocked so if my tags look weird it’s just so I don’t upset anyone <3)

I’m thinking about seeking out a diagnosis for something along the lines of iatraphobia (fear of doctors), nosecomephobia (fear of hospitals), trypanophobia (fear of medical needles), or tomophobia (fear of medical tests/procedures). I’ve been doing a lot of research and those sound like they’re the closest to what I experience, so I’m going to see if I can talk to a doctor about it (ironic, right? Looking for a diagnosis might straight up give me a heart attack). It’s severely affecting my life at this point so I can’t just leave it anymore.

I’m terrified of going to the doctor/hospital/etc. ANYTHING medical makes me have a full blown panic attack (last time I had to go to the doctors I passed out in fear at the thought of taking a fucking piss test and then again when they asked for a blood test - and then they couldn’t get enough blood because I got so tense that it just stopped coming out lmao). I straightup stopped going to the doctors whenever I was sick for like a whole year because my fear is so bad. I had to get COVID tested twice and both times I wanted to bolt straight out the door as soon as I sat down.

It never used to be like this - as a kid I was always in and out of hospital and it sucked but I was never properly scared, especially to this extent, and even just last year I went to doctors a lot and it was really anxiety inducing but it definitely wasn’t this terrible phobia-like reaction.

It possibly has ties to my disability and the mistreatment I’ve experienced from basically every doctor I’ve been to. I’ve had to deal with so much fatphobia - even when I was a size 10 who weighed fuck all I was told to just exercise (this was after I said I could barely move most days and could only leave the house if I was using my cane), or lose weight instead of, you know, seeking a diagnosis and maybe treatment for my debilitating chronic pain, and I experience it even worse now that I’m actually plus-sized. I’ve also had doctors tell me the pain is all in my head/I’m making it up for intention etc - I remember one doctor telling me to (and I quote) “just check (my)self into a psych ward"... you know, the standard procedure for joint pain. None of them ever seem to want to believe me when I explain that I’m constantly in pain (bc EDS really just Be Like That). It’s infuriating and it made me absolutely loathe doctors even before the actual fear became really really bad.

I also have medical trauma as a result of a TBI I sustained as a kid. I don’t remember a /lot/ of it, but what I do remember is terrifying. But why would that wait until now to turn into a full-blown phobia?

Idk. It’s getting really out of hand to the point where if I end up injuring myself/getting sick in the future I probably won’t go to the doctors unless someone basically forces me to.  

If anyone has been diagnosed with iatraphobia/nosecomephobia/trypanophobia/tomophobia (or even just someone who can relate to my fears that don’t specifically have a phobia), I’d love to hear your thoughts/experiences either in the comments or via messages. Obviously I can’t say for sure if that’s what’s going on with me but it’d really help to hear from y’all.

[shannie-writes]

Okay so, maybe it's just cause I have an odd phobia myself(emetophobia), and it's almost debilitating at times, but I really like the idea of a suitor supporting their phobia-having Alice. I can see Lancelot, Zero, Fenrir, Seth and Mousse being especially sweet about it. Confused at first, but total sweethearts when they realized what the deal was.

Oh, I absolutely love the idea of Alice having a phobia that comes out a bit further into the relationship with her suitor! There are so many good boys and you basically listed who I would have listed for that haha. I don’t really know Mousse well, since he’s still JP exclusive (a sleepy mouse boi??), so I didn’t include him below, but I was inspired by this and made some smol HCs about how each of them would react when given an MC who has a specific, yet common phobia.

Lancelot w/ trypanophobia MC (fear of needles)

- Finding out that MC is also as scared, if not even more scared, than he is about needles is something that Lancelot wouldn’t have ever thought of until the topic came up that the rounds for shots were coming. He cares about her comfort as much as her physical well-being and it concerns him more that she is doing well in both equally.

- He makes a promise with her. He’ll sit and take the shot if she holds his hand and only looks into his eyes, and he will do the same for her.

- It’s frightening and he pushes through his own fear to show MC that he is strong enough for it and she can be too. If he sees her trembling and tensing up, he’ll remind her to look at him and he will tell her stories, cupping her face and giving her light kisses until Kyle has been out of the room for several minutes.

- He would give her anything she wants when they’re done. She did it. He did it. They both deserve a trip to town to her favorite shop to get her favorite dessert and have the rest of the day off, together.

Zero w/ nyctophobia MC (fear of the dark)

- It was terrifying for MC when she first came to Cradle. While the crystal lights were similar to the lamp lights of London, there was no light pollution to make even the night sky glow through the windows. It was dark outside and in and she was glad that the lights in her room in HQ were privately controlled and not mass controlled for everyone on the floor so she could leave them on during the night.

- Zero found out early into their relationship that MC was scared of the dark. She didn’t want to say anything at first when he put out the lights and snuggled with her in bed, but her trembling and shallow breaths were enough to have him holding her closer and asking what was wrong.

- When she confessed on quiet tones that she was scared of the dark and if he could keep a light on, he immediately hopped out of bed to do so. Holding her once more, he rubbed his hand up and down her back, comforting her silently until her shaking went away and she slipped into sleep. He knew all too well how it felt to be scared and alone and if keeping a light on during the night was all it took to have her feeling safe, he would gladly do that for her.

Fenrir w/ arachnophobia MC (fear of spiders)

- Fenrir thought that MC had been in immediate danger when he heard her short shriek. Busting into the room she was in, he was surprised to see that she was pinning herself to a wall, staring at the opposite side of the room with wide eyes. Looking to where she was facing, Fenrir saw a small spider, one with a tiny body and long legs, sitting peacefully on the floor.

- Taking action right away, he walked to the spider, swept it up into his hand, and took it to the window, opening it and tossing the spider into the bushes below. Closing the window and locking it up, he went to MC and bent to look her in the eyes, asking if she was alright.

- After explaining that she was deathly afraid of spiders, Fenrir gave her a wild grin and told her that spiders were no match for him and he would gladly escort any of them away from her presence and to just shout for him if she saw one, adding a short tease that it’s only fair if she does the same if he sees a ghost. She nods with a small smile and thanks him, falling into him, holding him tightly and letting him rock her gently as she composed herself before they left the room.

Seth w/ acrophobia MC (fear of heights)

- The first time Seth had put MC onto a horse for a ride into town, she had immediately frozen in place and stammered out a request to be put back down. Seth did so, of course, and didn’t push when she lied about not being comfortable on a horse quite yet. So, they walked hand-in-hand into town instead.

- Another time, MC was requested to replace a crystal light in the dining room. She was lighter and more nimble than the soldier she was working with, and Seth watched from the doorway as she froze and shook with only going up the ladder halfway. He stepped in with a cheerful greeting and asked if he could do it for her, which MC gratefully accepted.

- It didn’t take a third time for Seth to approach her, asking her the next time they were alone if she was afraid of heights. She confessed and said she knew it sounded silly, but he tapped a finger to her nose, distracting her train of thought, and told her that fear is nothing to be ashamed of and that what your gut tells you is always more important than what your brain tells you.

- He makes sure to be available wherever she needs it and quietly spreads the word around the other leaders to not assign her jobs that she would feel unsafe doing. He loves it when she smiles and he never wants to see her look that upset and scared again.

[pearlsandopal]

Advice on Needles and where to get Started? (I’m full of fear)

I’ve been putting off finding answers about my health for far too long. My whole life I’ve been chronically ill, but because I have a severe phobia of Doctors and Needles I haven’t spoke up about those symptoms and have avoided visiting the Doctor for years. I’m at a point where my health is really deteriorating and it scares me. I believe what I have is possibly POTS and Ehlers Danlos. I had no idea what either of those things were before my little cousin and Grandmother were diagnosed and it’s like suddenly my symptoms make sense. My mom is next in line for her diagnosis, we already know she can pass the Brighton test (?) with the maximum score. I’m not so sure about myself though as some of my mobility is lower than it was when I was younger and in better shape. I can touch my thumbs to my forearms, lay my hands flat on the floor and believe I can hyperextend my knees but not sure... I can’t bend my pinkies back like I used to after having dislocated them pretty badly as a teen. Would that still count having been able to do it no problem? My whole life I was told I’m lazy or a hypochondriac and honestly part of me is still scared of that being true. I’ve never been able to hold down a job due to my health or keep a good attendance at school while I was in elementary, middle or high school.... but with EDS being progressive and with seeing my health really go further down hill I figure I should at least try to get help. I also want to start managing these issues better or at least learn how to better live with them since I really want to be a mother one day. Another issue is that I believe I’m hard of hearing, and I’m scared if I bring up too many things at once that my doctor will dismiss me. Speaking of being dismissed I’m also overweight so I’m scared they’ll just say it’s because I’m overweight even though I’ve lived with these symptoms my whole life. I wasn’t always overweight I was actually pretty healthy weight wise until I had an eating disorder in high school. I was severely underweight during that time and once I recovered I put on a ton of weight.

I feel very stuck and don’t know where to get started.

Does anyone have advice for:

-Getting over extreme fear of Doctors

-Getting over extreme fear of needles (extremely important, my fear is debilitating)

-Living with POTS, EDS, or are Hard of hearing

-What I should say or do at my first Doctor’s appointment in years

-How to get started on the process to get a diagnosis

I apologize for the long post, I’m just at a point where I’m really scared. I’m feeling like garbage every second of every day almost. This morning I felt the joint between my leg and pelvis pop (I think out of place as it popped again and felt better) and I was so scared I wouldn’t be able to stand back up. With the summer heat I’ve been relying on my husband to help me stand or walk as I have moments where I truly believe I’m going to pass out. I’ve always struggled with feeling like I’m going to pass out upon standing up or standing for long periods of time not just during the heat but it always gets worse with heat. I feel like I don’t sweat enough, but I heard you get excessive sweating with POTS so I’m not sure. I sleep for hours and wake up still tired, but like beyond exhausted. I need help but I don’t know how to get past my fears enough to ask. Should I make a list of my concerns or symptoms? Will that make me look like I’m trying to self-diagnose myself? Do I already sound like I’m self diagnosing myself? Any advice will be very appreciated.

Even if you don’t have any advice please pass this along ❤️ thank you!

[journalxxx]

No Rest for the Wicked (3)

"Hey. Higgsbury."

Wilson woke with a gasp, heart racing and chest heaving as something touched his shoulder. His overwhelmed brain took in his surroundings in a frenzy of disconnected bits: the setting sun, the rough table he was napping on, the spilled ink on his half-finished blueprint, the blood rumbling in his own head, the tiny pins and needles tickling his left arm, the gaunt harasser standing beside him.

"Say, pal. You don't look so good."

Wilson blinked at Maxwell, wondering why he was still alive. Oh, right. Not a dream, this one. Not a dream. He wondered if the other man could hear the gears furiously turning in Wilson's brain to sort through real memories and fleeting visions in an effort to make sense of his current situation. He probably could, it felt like they were very rusty and grind-y.

"Can you please. Never say those specific words to me again. Please."

"Have I caught you at a bad time? It didn't seem like there was much inventing going on at the moment."

Wilson drummed his fingers on the table nervously, still dizzy with adrenaline. He focussed very, very hard on eliminating all thoughts of sadism and murder and assorted violence from his brain, but the sight of Maxwell's nonchalant mug made it exceedingly difficult.

"You always catch me at a bad time. When you want to disturb me, just assume it's a bad time. And then don't do it. What do you want?"

Maxwell regarded him with something unpleasantly akin to amusement. He glanced at the ruined sketch on the table.

"Strange dreams, eh? What was this one about?"

"...You don't want to know."

"I beg to differ."

Wilson squinted at him, rubbing his arm to restore the circulation. Well, if he insisted.

"...I wanted to observe the effects of prolonged consumption of raw monster meat on humans. You were the test subject, but you refused to eat it, so I made an incision in your epigastrium-" He poked at the exact spot on Maxwell's abdomen as he explained, "and created a fistula large enough to introduce the minced meat directly in your stomach from the outside. It made you turn into that half-beast thing you used to scare me with when I was travelling to the throne-" He illustrated that passage too, hunching his back and mimicking claws and fangs with his hands and mouth, "and, since you behaved like a rabid dog, I had to put you down. Via decapitation. Then I dismembered you and put your organs in jars with formalin for later study. I think I was doing something with your liver when you woke me, but I can't remember what."

It was rare for Wilson to manage to reduce Maxwell to silence, but those precious few times were always so deeply worth it.

"...I'll say." He eventually commented, scratching his chin pensively. "I never thought there could be any decent material in that hairy nogging of yours, but it looks like you may have turned out not too disappointing a King, after all."

Wilson groaned, rubbing his hands on his face.

"What do you want, Maxwell?"

"Why do you keep asking me? You said you needed my help with some project of yours, remember?"

"Uh... yes, yes, I do. Give me just a moment." Wilson quickly gathered his tools and cleaned up the mess on the table. "You always have such impeccable timing. I've been sitting here all afternoon, but of course you show up the moment I put my head down for five minutes."

"You said I could come when I was free. Well, I'm free now." Maxwell crossed his arms condescendingly. "If your beauty sleep has the priority, I can come back next week or so."

"You've got a busy schedule, haven't you? I suppose that standing around doing nothing and glancing judgementally at people who are actually working does eat up time." Maxwell was about to reply, but Wilson opted for a strategic retreat. "I'll be right back."

"So, what do you need me for?" Maxwell asked when Wilson came back with an armful of equipment. He watched with silent disapproval as Wilson dropped the items messily on the table, save for one vial filled with transparent liquid, which he carefully placed in a roughly-crafted canister. Wilson didn't miss the brief glimpse of concern that crossed Maxwell's eyes when he opened the case containing the syringe. "...I'm just realizing I should have asked this much sooner."

"You know that weird feeling you get after being revived - the feeling that you are indeed very much alive and well, but not quite as healthy as you were before? And no matter how much you eat or rest or heal, you never seem to regain your top shape?"

"Yes."

"Good. I was sure you would, given how vocally you complained about it when you burst out of my meat statue two months ago." Wilson paused to observe the content of the vial against the light: no suspicious discolorations or sediments. "As it turns out, it's a shared affliction. It happened to me too before... before, and others in the camp have confirmed experiencing the same problem. So I decided to see if anything could be done about it."

"I take that you are concocting some sort of serum. Do you need some specific ingredient or magic boost you think I can provide?"

"A fair assumption, but no. I believe I've already hit on a promising formula, and now I only need a suitable subject to test it."

"Ah. You see, that was my second guess, only because I gave you enough credit to reach on your own the obvious conclusion that I would never agree to that."

"Come on, don't be difficult. I promise you it's perfectly safe."

"Says the man who thought that powdercakes were safe for consumption." Maxwell squinted at the vial, hands clasped behind his back. "What's in there?"

"Oh just, you know... some minerals and... organic material. You needn't concern yourself with the technical details-"

"If you had said snake oil, it would have sounded less fishy. Which minerals? What organic material?"

"Well..." Wilson scratched his chin, pointedly avoiding Maxwell's inquisitive gaze. "Some nitre and ground bee stings. And- you know those funny-looking hyphae that were growing on the eggplants we forgot we had? Well, I thought-"

"You must be joking." Maxwell's face contorted into the most comically over-the-top expression of affronted disgust Wilson had ever seen. "Dirt and mold. You mixed dirt and mold into a bottle and you called that a cure? How did you even come up with such a ridiculous idea?"

"Exactly like I come up with every ridiculous idea I've ever had in this wretched place: by using our ridiculous machines, that's how. Or are you going to claim that there's more scientific merit to grinding flower petals to make dream gasoline, or whatever that foul thing is supposed to be?"

"Well, at least that foul thing isn't supposed to go straight into my veins! Your 'cure' is going to give me lockjaw or bubonic plague, if not both at the same time."

Wilson decided to dedicate a single moment of his life to envisioning how risus sardonicus might look on Maxwell's already grotesque set of facial features. He found that his imagination wasn't yet capable of producing such horrors, and he was ultimately grateful for it.

"I told you it's safe. I've already administered samples to some rabbits and pigmen, and they're all perfectly healthy. I've even had a dose of it myself, and as you can see-"

"You took it yourself?" Maxwell gaped at the scientist in utter shock. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Well, rabbits and pigmen aren't humans. Results obtained on them are only partially reliable to predict the effect the serum might have on actual people. And I didn't think it wise to use a potentially flawed drug on an already debilitated patient. I haven't died yet since we met, so I figured I would be the perfect subject to take note of any relevant side effects or issues. There haven't been any, by the way."

"You're a lunatic." Maxwell's bewilderment almost made Wilson laugh. It seemed like such a simple and straightforward process to him. "A complete, raving madman. That thing could have killed you more painfully than I ever did."

"That's extremely debatable, but let's not get sidetracked." Wilson joined the tips of his fingers, flashing his best ingratiating smile at Maxwell. "Care to assist?"

"No, not really. Besides, I've just finished recovering from that accident with the spider queen, so I may still be a tad too 'debilitated' for-"

"You've been 'just finishing recovering' from those two glorified scratches for at least a week. I don't doubt that that is due to the aforementioned post-resurrection weakness, and it is not even remotely just an excuse for you to be even less productive than usual. However, as the resident physician, I am positive you're at least well enough to withstand a harmless drug trial. Does this quell your fears?"

Maxwell pursed his lips, surprisingly giving some serious thought to the matter. "...Wolfgang has died too, once. And he's certainly fitter than me at any given moment. Why didn't you choose him?"

"To be fair, I did ask him first. But..." Wilson considered his fingertips. The memory of that colossal man mewling in horror and backing away from the raised syringe like a cornered animal would haunt him for the rest of his days. "I think he has a phobia of needles. Among the other things."

"Hm. Hard to blame him on that one. The needle of that syringe is barely smaller than an organ pipe."

"It's the best I could put together with the materials I found. Just be thankful I was able to craft one or I would have to resort to scarification."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"You wouldn't like the feel of that either."

Maxwell scrutinized him and his whole apparatus with blatant hostility. He didn't speak, and eventually Wilson sighed in defeat.

"...I can't force you, of course. But I do mean it when I say it's safe. It has given me no side effects whatsoever, I just need to establish if it's actually effective or not." Wilson tapped his fingers on the table, pensively. "I guess I could try again with Wolfgang. Wickerbottom could help me talk him into it, she’s good at that. After keeping him on a light diet for while. If he threw a fit in his best shape, he'd probably break my neck with an accidental flicker of his-"

"Oh, fine! Stop whining!" Maxwell burst out, throwing his hands to the sky. "And don't you dare say that I never do anything helpful. I'm literally throwing my own health to the wolves for your divertissement here."

"Splendid!" Wilson grinned, immediately filling the syringe with the precious liquid. "Uncover your shoulder. You don't have any allergies, do you?"

"If I said yes, would you reconsider my involvement?"

"I guess that's a no. Sit." Wilson stood up, politely leaving the chair free for his unhappy subject. Who didn't sit. Nor uncovered his shoulder. Wilson rolled his eyes. "What is it now? I swear, all this fussing for a single prick. Next time I'll just knock you out beforehands and save myself half an hour of pointless arguments."

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking that I can simply refuse to sit to foil your brilliant plan altogether. There's little you can do to my shoulder from down there."

"...Wow, a height joke. Haven't heard one of those in a while. You're just desperate to buy time at this point. Sit before I stab this in your rear."

Wilson patiently waited as Maxwell begrudgingly complied and took as long as humanly possible to remove the several layers of clothing hiding his shoulder. Wilson also merrily ignored the constant muttering as he applied some antiseptic on the area.

"Mankind owes me a lot for confining you here and saving any possible future patient of yours from your misguided attempts at- Ow!"

"Yes, I'm sure such a charitable deed completely outweighs the God-knows-how-many unexplained kidnappings you've perpetrated in your whole life."

"Not as many as- Ow! This thing burns!"

"Hardly. I'd like to say you deserve a statue for your past and present heroism, but I think there are already far too many around here."

One last completely unwarranted 'ow' marked the end of the unbearable torture as Wilson pulled out the needle and pressed a patch of silk gauze on Maxwell's shoulder.

"Done. It's going to be just a little sore for-"

"You literally just said no side effects whatsoever!"

"That's not a side effect, it's a completely normal local reaction. It won't last more than a few days anyway."

Wilson put away his tools while Maxwell nursed his achy joint with a scowl. "Fine print and shady semantics are more tools of my trade rather than yours, you know?"

"Maybe, but at least I make a point of rewarding blind faith instead of squashing it. Your contribution towards scientific advancement is highly appreciated." Wilson smiled, producing a life-giving amulet from his pocket and handing it to Maxwell with a flourish and a small bow. "Please accept this for your trouble."

Maxwell froze in the middle of buttoning up his shirt, gaping at the item with sheer horror.

"...Oh God, I am going to die."

"No, no no no, this is just for... extra precaution. Just in case. Just in the remote eventuality that the serum might have some utterly unexpected and yet unobserved contraindication. Which it won't, I'm sure. Do feel free to bring to my attention any malaise that may bother you though."

"I hate you."

"Oh come on, I'm joking. Mostly." Wilson chuckled as Maxwell motioned to take the amulet. He instinctively gripped it harder though, suddenly struck by an unpleasant thought. He met Maxwell's puzzled glance with firm eyes. "By the way, I would dearly appreciate it if you used it as intended, this time."

"...I believe I should be granted the freedom to decide how to employ my payment, shouldn't I?" Maxwell's expression changed as well, subtly but unmistakably. Wilson already regretted breaching the subject, but he had no intention of backing down from his request.

"I'm serious. If this ends up like the last one, I'm not going to trust you with another again. They're far too precious to be wasted."

"Wasted, uh?" Maxwell scoffed, letting go of the amulet and standing fully straight to look down on Wilson. Wilson hated how easy it was for the man to look effectively imposing. "Maybe you should give this to someone else then. God forbid I should ever use it to look after myself in the way I see fit."

"You did nothing of the sort. You broke it. You took a resurrection tool, a literal life-saver, and disassembled it.” Wilson clenched his fists without even noticing, the argument from a few months before still fresh in his mind. Sometimes Maxwell’s behavior was truly unjustifiable. “And for what? To make another goddamn nightmare amulet!”

“That is what I’d call ‘looking after myself’’, yes. All this time you’ve spent around me, and you still don’t get how my powers work. You’re dreadfully unobservant for a scientist.”

“Look, I know what you’re driving at, but how can you possibly not understand that there’s nothing more important than resurrection items here?! They’re our only lifeline! They literally avoid death! We should scavenge for parts to craft them, not the other way around!”

“You’re astoundingly wrong. The smartest thing we can do is to avoid dying in the first place. We don’t build meat effigies during a famine, do we?”

“That’s not the same thing-”

“Maybe not for you, but it is for me!” Maxwell burst out suddenly. “I need nightmare fuel, don’t you get it? Suppose I get slaughtered against some unholy monster with no fuel and a resurrection amulet. I get brought back to life, and then what? If the monster wakes too early, it may very well slaughter me again before I can make a run for it! And even if I manage to get away, do you really think I can gather all the materials I need to survive quickly enough on my own? If I have fuel though, my duelists can lure the enemy away or maybe even kill it, and my gatherers can collect resources for me even if I’m injured. So yes, Higgsbury, having a functional nightmare amulet and therefore decent fuel reserves does qualify as safeguarding my life, as far as I’m concerned.”

“I- wait, wait a minute.” Wilson shook his head, momentarily stunned. For whatever reason, Maxwell hadn’t bothered to explain his reasons in such detail before, and the scientist had to admit there was a logic in them. Still, the remaining flaw was glaring. “You’re talking as if you had to survive completely on your own. There’s no need for you to be so obsessed about the fuel when you have plenty of other people to rely on. Anyone can help you find food or gather materials or get out of a tricky situation, you don’t need to have puppets ready all the time. No one can bring you back if you get killed though.”

“A brilliant reasoning. One, however, that is based on the certainty that you won’t be left behind, if things took a turn for the worse. In case you haven’t noticed, my puppets take care of almost all the heaviest and most time-consuming tasks around here, which is surely a great encouragement for my former captives not to lynch me. But if I run out of fuel, who’s to say they won’t suddenly remember their grudges?”

“Oh come on, that’s ridiculous. We’ve been camping together for months, you can’t possibly still believe the others to be so untrustworthy. We’ve had each other’s backs dozens of times by now, you must see that they’ve let bygones be bygones. No one would hold it against you if couldn’t provide materials for a while. We could easily split the work among ourselves.”

“Do you really trust them that much?”

“Of course I do! They’re all perfectly respectable-”

“Then why haven’t you told anyone about the throne?” Maxwell’s smirk was sharp, contrasting strongly with his eerily soft tone. Wilson was caught off guard.

“...I… It’s not the same-”

“Again, it’s exactly the same thing. You haven’t because you’re not sure how they’d react. And you’re not even the King who brought them here. Consider my position for one moment and you’ll see that I have excellent reasons to be unsure how they’d react to anything I may do or not do. Hence my interest in having my own backup always ready at hand.”

“...You’re looking at this all wrong.” Wilson shook his head again. “You have more backup than ever, or at least you would if you bothered to acknowledge it as such, and yet you still stick to your paranoid schtick. Hell, you’d rather stroll on your own among spider nests instead of honestly asking for help. Anyone would have come with you if you had asked. I would have come with you if you had asked.”

“I did ask you!” Maxwell retorted venomously. “Last month! Or have you conveniently forgotten?”

“What- You didn’t ask me for help! You asked- no, you demanded a red gem! Without even explaining why. A red gem I couldn’t give you because I needed it for an amulet!”

“Oh, right! The amulet you then gave to the robot. The goddamn robot, of all people! It doesn’t even live here! It shows up only when there are giants around, drops gratuitous threats against all things organic, and then vanishes again. Why would you even bother to craft an amulet for it? I’m sure it just wants to see us all dead-”

“You mean like you did?!” Wilson’s voice raised without him really noticing, too caught up in the discussion. “Do you even hear yourself? If there is one person here who shouldn’t ever dare question other people’s honesty, that’s you! At least WX has never actually done anything to hurt us, which automatically makes them more trustworthy than you!”

Maxwell didn’t reply immediately. He waited, hands clasped behind his back and a strange, unreadable scowl on his face, until Wilson properly registered the meaning of his own words.

“...That. That is exactly it. That’s what everyone thinks, that a perfect stranger would be easily more trustworthy than me, no matter the circumstances. That’s what would make anyone hesitate to help, even just for a second. And a second of hesitation can mean a lot when I’m about to be mauled by a hound. That is why I need my own backup.”

There were times, many times, when Wilson genuinely thought that Maxwell was hopeless. That he would ultimately seal his own fate through the sheer stubbornness of his own self-absorbed idiocy, no matter how much effort Wilson put into trying to avoid that. And yet.

“...I have never hesitated.” Maxwell didn’t meet Wilson’s eyes as the scientist spoke, apparently too busy with fixing his tie and waistcoat. “Not once.”

“...You needed backup too. And I was the only one around to provide it. You have a wide choice now, though.”

“Do you really think that?” Wilson asked bitterly, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Do you really think that’s all there was to it?”

Even though Maxwell’s attire had long since been freed from any wrinkles or unsightly folds, he was still messing with it. Nevertheless, Wilson patiently waited for his answer, as one waited for a bully to decide whether he felt like dedicating ten seconds of his life to stomp on the elaborate sand castle one took two hours to build.

“...No.” Maxwell didn’t elaborate any further. It was a fortunate decision, for Wilson was already nearing his limit of tolerance for the day, and the umpteenth gratuitous jab or tirade against his stupidity, his morality, his naivety may have just convinced him to never spare another glance at Maxwell’s mug again. Or so he liked to think.

“...Good.” Wilson nodded thoughtfully. “I guess you can consider me your backup then.”

That finally tore Maxwell’s attention off his goddamn suit. Wilson shrugged in response to his befuddled glance.

“Honestly it’s ridiculous that I even have to say it aloud after I’ve effectively been your backup for God knows how long, but I guess you might benefit from hearing it. I’m not going to leave you behind, or ignore a request for materials or assistance, if only you can find it in yourself to spare two minutes to motivate it. You have my word on it. And if you were to leave the group for any reason that doesn’t involve egregious misbehavings on your part, like trying to murder people in their sleep or something of the kind, I’ll leave as well. How does that sound?”

Wilson may as well have turned into a turnip halfway through his speech, judging by the sheer bewilderment of Maxwell’s expression.

“What the devil is this about, now?”

“This is about making you stop wasting resources on problems that aren’t there. You can go without fuel for a few days or even weeks, if you need to, even if you can’t take care of the foraging. Just ask me, if you don’t feel like asking the others. And for heaven’s sake, take this and wear it!” Wilson outright slipped the amulet around Maxwell’s neck, pressing it firmly against his chest to drive the point more clearly. “Don’t break it. Don’t repurpose it. Just wear it.”

For the second time that day, Maxwell was shocked into silence, his eyes darting between Wilson’s face and his hand. The amulet pulsed under Wilson's palm, instantly warming up as the protective magic activated, and started to beat faintly, like a second heart perfectly in synch with the wearer's. It was a refreshing change to feel its natural, regular beat, without the rush and unsteadiness that blood loss and such distressing circumstances caused. The rhythm was pleasantly familiar, and distracting enough for Wilson to suddenly realize that he had been idly standing before Maxwell for a little too long, a little too close. He let go of the amulet and took a few steps back, until he bumped against the edge of the desk, his mind oddly blank.

“Why are you so obsessed with these things, anyway?” Maxwell asked, his tone somewhat subdued as he took the pendant in his hand and rubbed some invisible dust off the red gem. “We have meat statues and even a couple of touch stones. I could die three times within the next hour and I’d still be able to come back without an amulet.”

“Statues can be destroyed and the closest stone is almost a day away from the camp. Amulets are always the safest option.” In truth, Wilson couldn’t quite explain it. Maxwell was perfectly right, living in a large group had allowed them to secure plenty of materials for more resurrection items than Wilson himself had ever hoped for. But, as irrational as it may be, Wilson only felt truly safe when he and everyone around him were wearing a life-giving amulet around their neck. “I just don’t like taking any chances.”

“Mh. If I didn’t know you to be so scientifically inclined, I’d be tempted to call you superstitious. I guess it’s only anxiety then.”

“You can call it however you like, but it’s the reason I’ve managed to survive this long. Always having a backup plan is what allowed me to best the oh-so-dreadful King of the Shadows.”

“Ah! That’s precious.” Maxwell laughed, without any real bite. Unexpectedly, he leaned against the table too, beside Wilson. He regarded him with a conspiratorial smile, all traces of the previous argument gone from his demeanor. “No need to embellish the truth, pal, I was watching too. Remember the first time you jumped into a wormhole without amulets and the like and without having any idea what would happen? Where was your backup plan then?”

“Ah, but you forget that at the time I was being cornered by a tallbird at the edge of a cliff, without proper armor and at dusk. Jumping in the wormhole was the backup plan, you see.”

“...God, you really are the one who bested me. Why. How.” Maxwell lamented as he covered his face. “Did They really wish to humiliate me so? Why couldn’t it be Wickerbottom? Surrendering the throne to her would have been immensely more dignified. Honourable, even.”

“Maybe you just weren’t as good at your job as you thought. Or I am a genius survivalist. Take your pick.”

“Neither.” Maxwell rubbed his shoulder absently. “Are you planning to study the effects of whatever filth you poisoned me with watching me as I slowly shuffle off this mortal coil, or may I retreat to meet my end privately?”

“You’re free to go. Many thanks for your unwavering trust and enthusiasm.” Wilson simply watched as Maxwell shrugged on his coat. He tried his very best to sound as casual as possible with his next question. “Oh, by the way. Have you been experimenting with your puppets again?”

“Hm? No, not lately. Why?”

“Oh, never mind. I was just wondering.”

“...You were just wondering.” A single glance from Maxwell was enough for Wilson to know that he was simply hopeless at sounding casual. “And why were you wondering, may I ask?”

“I was just wondering! You do that sometimes! They used to work differently when I met you, and now they’re more specialized or something-”

“I only ever revised them that one time, because they were giving me troubles. You wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t think there was something wrong with them. Why?”

“I, uh… well… to be honest, they did a strange thing yesterday. And I was wondering if it may be because you were, I don’t know, trying out a new spell or-”

“Did they try to attack you? Because that would be your fault. I told you you’d eventually get on their nerves if you kept getting in their way while they’re working.”

“No, no no. In fact, it’s… it’s the exact opposite.” Wilson stopped for a moment. “You know how they always pretend I don’t exist, right? They don’t communicate, they don’t listen, they walk through me, they don’t even look at me, and all that-”

“Yes. I am aware of how my own puppets work. Get to the point.”

“Yes, right- by the way, why do they do that? I remember you said they behave exactly like you, but you don’t-”

“They behave like I would behave if I were an entity of pure shadow with no need or obligation to interact with other people in order to survive. Thus, they ignore you. The point, Higgsbury.”

“Right, right. So, the other day I was following a koalefant track up north, between the forest and the swamp. Your puppets were there too, chopping and mining and the like. They didn’t acknowledge me, as usual, and I ignored them too.” Maxwell crossed his arms and threw his head backwards with deliberate slowness, staring stolidly at the sky with a groan. “I guess, uh… I guess I must have been a bit distracted. The next track was very close to the edge of the swamp, but I thought I was far enough from- are you listening?”

“Regrettably.”

“...Right. Anyway, I must have gotten too close to the swamp and I didn’t notice the tentacle springing from the ground until too late. I was- it was about to hit me, but… one of your puppets pushed me out of the way.” Maxwell didn’t move, nor he replied. Wilson continued. “The tentacle actually struck it. It vanished. The other two had stopped working too, they were watching the whole thing, but then they resumed their job as if nothing happened as soon as I got far enough from the tentacle.”

“...Mh.” Maxwell eloquently commented.

“...I thought it was odd. Even in battle your duelists tend to let me get slaughtered if I don’t stick close enough to you. And your harvesters are even more passive. So I was wondering if you had changed them.”

“I haven’t.”

“...Doesn’t your neck hurt?”

“No.” Maxwell finally directed his scowl at Wilson instead of at the murky sky of the Constant. “Is this the conundrum? The puppet probably just tripped. You can add this to the long list of strokes of luck that have spared you yet another painful death. Rejoice.”

“It didn’t look like it just tripped. I don’t think it was even near me when I knelt down to examine the track. And the other two were staring too-”

“Look, I’d understand your perplexity if they had tried to skewer you, but they actually helped you for once. All the better, yes? Why does this concern you so much?”

“Why doesn’t it concern you?” Wilson insisted. “Your puppets are behaving abnormally without your direct input. What if something or someone else was influencing them?”

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” Maxwell scoffed. “There are no other shadow magic users around here. And They certainly wouldn’t hijack my puppets to save your neck.”

“Well, maybe there’s another possibility.” Wilson hesitated. Discussing the matter with Maxwell had seemed like a good move the previous night, while disturbing thoughts were keeping him awake long past the sunset. In that moment, not quite as much. “What if there was someone else with the same powers you have?”

“Bollocks. I’m sure there are only two human beings who ever became acquainted with shadow magic, and the other one is the current Queen. Not to mention I would have already noticed. I keep a keen eye on the invisible forces at work in the area, you know?”

“Maybe it’s someone you haven’t noticed because… they haven’t used their powers yet. Maybe because they don’t know they have them…”

“...I’m not sure I’m quite following you, although you seem to be heading in a very specific direction.” Maxwell frowned. Wilson felt like he was melting under that stern scrutiny. All right, there was no point in beating around the bush.

“...Listen. I sat on the throne, right? I’ve been King. Maybe while I was there, I did absorb a bit of shadow magic. Maybe the puppet responded to that, and therefore defended me. Or maybe- maybe I made it defend me without noticing-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Maxwell raised a hand to stop him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this what it’s all about? Are you still being paranoid about the throne? I told you you’re fine, stop overanalyzing every trifling thing that happens to you.”

“But how can you be so sure?” Wilson insisted. “What if I did take control of your puppet for a moment, without noticing? I was about to be killed, I asked for help! Maybe not vocally, but surely subconsciously. And help I did get, from shadow slaves that barely even bothered to acknowledge my presence before! Don’t you find it weird?”

“...Oh my God, you’re-” Maxwell muttered through his teeth, and then stopped abruptly. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of literally biting Wilson’s head off, flushed and irate as he looked. However, he reined himself in with uncharacteristic grace. He rubbed a hand on his face, then he sighed and drew the Codex from the inner pocket of his coat. He held it before Wilson’s eyes. “Listen, and listen well. Shadow magic isn’t something you just ‘absorb’ because you sat somewhere for a while. Even if They allowed you to tap into its power freely, without proper study and willing sacrifice, you couldn’t use it for anything more than cheap parlor tricks. I’ve been honing my own skills for decades, at great personal costs, and I’ve barely scraped the surface of what this book has to offer. Now, ingrain this simple concept into your brain: the mere thought that someone like you, without an ounce of talent or knowledge or training about magic, could overturn my own spells, even for a second, even by accident, is utterly ludicrous.”

Wilson wrung his hands nervously. “...Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Maxwell did sound as sure as one could possible get, but his stern demeanour deflated into a discouraged sigh before Wilson’s unresponsiveness. “But you won’t be convinced that easily, I guess.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust your expertise on the matter, mind you.” Wilson offered. “It’s just that… I keep thinking about it, and I can’t help but feel that I can’t just have left the throne room unscathed. And all these weird things that have been happening-”

“Are definitely not weird at all. I thought we’d been over this. Why have you been fixating on this so much?” Wilson shrugged, not knowing how to reply. Maxwell considered him for a moment, scratching his chin. “Have you tried doing it again?”

“Doing what?”

“Controlling a puppet.”

“No, of course not! I-”

“Well, shame on you then. What good can your harebrained hypotheses be without repeatable evidence?” Maxwell suddenly grabbed Wilson by his arm and dragged him in a seemingly random direction. “Come. Maybe some good old scientific method will convince you.”

“Wha- wait, where are you going?” Wilson stammered, stumbling along.

“To test your theory. Or rather, to make you fail at it as many times as you need to be convinced that it’s impossible.”

“Why are you suddenly so invested in this? I thought you were busy.”

“I’m always invested in watching you make a fool of yourself. Ah, there’s one.”

Maxwell pointed at the farm just outside the camp, where one of his puppets was filling his third- no, fourth basket of berries, freshly picked from the neat rows of bushes. They stopped to the side of the field, and Wilson watched the puppet accomplish its task with methodic precision for a few moments.

“Well, have at it.” Maxwell plopped heavily on the ground and popped a few berries into his mouth from the closest basket as he opened his book and idly started flipping through it. Wilson gaped at him.

“I have no idea how to do it!”

“Do whatever you think you did before. See what happens.”

“You aren’t being very helpful, you know?”

“Because there’s nothing to help you with. It’s impossible. We’re only here to establish that.”

Wilson muttered unrepeatable words under his breath. He tried his best to forget about Maxwell and focussed on the puppet. He stared at it, took in its featureless silhouette, a seemingly two-dimensional Maxwell-shaped smudge of inky blackness. He tried to take in its very essence, its unthinking, unfeeling existence, created for the sole purpose of going through a limited and established set of motions. If there was really any power in him, it couldn’t be too difficult to steer such an empty vessel towards his own desires. He decided he wanted to make it drop the basket. Easy enough. He focussed on that thought. He visualized it. He imagined the exact gesture, he imagined the puppet’s grasp on the basket loosening, his hand opening, the item dropping on the ground, spilling its contents all over. He ordered it. He willed it into reality. He put every ounce of his mental faculties into that specific wish. He wanted it.

Nothing happened.

“Your face is redder than your waistcoat. Try not to get yourself a stroke, I’d certainly be blamed for that.”

Wilson found himself slightly short on breath. Had he been holding it without noticing? “How am I supposed to command these things? How do you command them?”

“I don’t. They don’t need orders, they’re autonomous and smart enough to know what they have to do.”

“Do you really think there’s no chance I did that?”

“Let’s put it this way. The day you’ll manage to take control of any of my puppets for half a second will be the day I’ll entrust the Codex to you as the legitimate owner and superior user of its dark arts, and I’ll also humbly prostrate myself at your feet begging for your teachings. How likely does that sound to you?”

“Not much, but it’s certainly an excellent motivation to keep trying.” Wilson grumbled. He tried again. He stared at the puppet hard enough to bore a hole in it, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists with the sheer effort. He absolutely, positively, unmistakingly bid it to drop the basket. He even outstretched his hand towards it, as if to transmit his order through his very own body, and- and then Maxwell snorted loudly and he got completely distracted.

“What? What?” Wilson burst out, his cheeks burning. “You gesticulate all the time when you’re channeling your magic!”

“Yes, because I have magic to channel. What are you channeling?” Maxwell cackled. Unhelpful bastard. Wilson groaned in defeat.

“I can’t do it. Not like this, at least. Maybe it happens only in very specific circumstances, like if I’m very stressed or in mortal danger.”

“A brilliant hypothesis. Let’s test that too.” Maxwell sprang to his feet, radiating the most unsettling merriment. “Give me a minute to fetch my sword.”

“Quit it.” Wilson grabbed his jacket to stop him. “All right, you win. I must have been wrong. That still doesn’t explain your puppet’s behaviour though.”

“Maybe he just wanted to end it.” Maxwell shrugged, putting away his book.

“End what?”

“Its life.”

Wilson blinked. “Is that a thing that they do? Do they get… depressed?”

“You’d get depressed too if you were a somewhat sentient, disposable tool forced to chop trees for the entirety of your fleeting existence.”

Wilson considered the silent worker for a long moment, before Maxwell stretched his back with a showy yawn.

“Well, as entertaining as watching you achieve absolutely nothing for the last fifteen minutes has been, I think I’ll head off. Feel free to keep trying if you think that you may have better luck without me interfering with your blooming powers.”

“...Right. I think I’ll head off as well.” Wilson murmured. He turned on his heels and took a step towards the camp, and found itself right before- no, within the puppet, as it was passing by to put down another full basket. The puppet seamlessly phased through him, as they oft did, but the basket could not. It bumped against Wilson’s chest and fell on the ground, berries rolling everywhere. The puppet stopped. It looked down at the basket, somewhat dejectedly. Then, its eyeless face turned towards Wilson. Straight towards him.

Maxwell clicked his tongue, shaking his head. Wilson’s blood froze in his veins.

“...Uh, sorry.” He found himself saying as he knelt down and started gathering the scattered fruits. “Here, I’ll just…”

The puppet observed him for almost a full minute. Then, when Wilson was almost done cleaning up the mess, it grabbed two full baskets and walked off towards the camp.

“...When you say that one of these days getting in their way will get me killed, you’re clearly joking, right?”

“Not really. A duelist could definitely do it, with enough motivation. But foragers don’t have much violence in them.” Maxwell stopped for a moment. “Although, if I were them, and I am, I wouldn’t be above ganging up on you, tying you to a tree and chopping off a few of those luxuriant locks of yours.”

Wilson instinctively run a hand through his hair. “That’s not funny.”

“That wasn’t a joke either.” Maxwell smiled one of those creepy smiles of his. “Good afternoon, pal.”

Wilson silently tried his hand at an improvised hex centered around broken ankles, bees and Glommer’s goop. Just in case. He shook his head as he finished gathering the spilled berries. He put the basket near the remaining one, wondering if carrying them to the camp himself would be enough of an apology for-

He blinked, his thoughts finally connecting. It had dropped the basket. The puppet had dropped the basket.

“Maxwell, wait!” Wilson called out, but Maxwell had already disappeared. Should he find him, tell him? It may have been an accident. Maxwell- he would almost certainly deem it an accident, wouldn’t he? And yet, the puppets were always so very precise with their movements, and so very aware of their surroundings… Could Wilson have…?

He stared at the baskets, more confused than ever.