#anyway I’m gonna go to bed and then try some breathing treatments and meds later 💕 wish me luck

[leatherforhell]

I am once again apologizing for my absence, I think I have bronchitis (again) and I’m struggling emotionally as well (again) so I’ve been taking an informal break so I don’t put any unnecessary pressure on myself.

hopefully I’ll be around soon, maybe even this weekend, but I’m not willing to push myself before I’m ready just for the sake of keeping my blog active, so I’ll just have to ask you all to be patient with me

[super-secret-sick-fics]

hi! i loved your iwaoi fic so much!! if you’re still taking requests, i would love to see more iwaoi!! idc who’s sick but emeto is a yes :) no pressure and thank you! <33

Hi! I hope this is to your liking :)

I can’t promise that I’ll alway respond to requests this quickly or that they’ll always be 1000+ words. I’ve just been in the writing mood recently!!

Usually I hc Oikawa as super super overly-doting as a caretaker, but I think when it comes to Iwa’s migraines, he is so used to them (unfortunately) that he’s just like. “Okay this is what I gotta do.” If that makes sense?

Migraine: an IwaOi sick fic

Pair: sick Iwa, caretaker Oikawa

Word Count: 2,234

Warnings: vomit, swearing, slightly ooc Iwa

——————————————————————

Iwaizumi leaned against the wall of the elevator lethargically. He held the strap of his bag loosely as it leaned against his leg, suddenly too heavy to keep on across his shoulder. Why in the hell he and Oikawa chose to live on the 10th floor was beyond him. He was regretting the decision as each beep of the passing floors sent sharp, stabbing pains through his skull. The prospect of his bed called to him enticingly.

It had been a terrible day.

He woke up late and ran into someone on his way to class, spilling his coffee all over his notes. Then in each one of his classes, he found out that he did the homework for the next class instead of today’s, so when he was called on, he didn’t know any of the answers and each one of his teachers scolded him for not doing the readings.

During his lab, some dude passed out when they were practicing first aid assessment on a dummy who cut open his leg. (Apparently even fake blood was too much for the guy). Which wouldn’t bother Iwa usually, but when the kid fell, he knocked over the iodine and got it all over Iwa’s arm (which was now stained brown).

Then, during his clinicals, he was observing one of the trainers with rehab for a patient who only recently recovered from her shoulder surgery enough to start physical therapy. All he needed to do was watch so he could take notes on different types of treatment plans for shoulders. He was actually pretty relieved after such a rough day.

The universe was out to screw him apparently because the pain was a bit too much for the poor girl and she ended up throwing up down Iwa’s chest.

To top it all off, when he was writing notes for one of the certified trainers a little later, black spots started popping in and out of his vision and his upper arms started tingling. Anxiety immediately settled in his chest. Of course; the only way to end such a terrible day was with a migraine. He had at most thirty minutes from the start of the tingling to get home and take his meds before it became too late.

And of course that didn’t happen.

His notes took longer to finish because of the black spots interrupting his typing and the increasing difficulty he had starting at the blue light of his computer. Then his usual train route was under construction so they took a detour.

Now, here he was, an hour later, standing in the elevator, hating his very existence as the pulsing behind his eyes increased and nausea made his stomach churn.

Finally the doors to his floor opened and he stumbled forward, fighting his vertigo towards his apartment. The hall lights blinded him.

His fingers fumbled with the keys as he leaned against the door and when he finally got the door open, he all but fell inside. He dumped his stuff messily by the door (Oikawa would yell at him later for that) and made a beeline for his bedroom.

Iwaizumi could have cried when he finally got to his room. He didn’t bother with the lights and collapsed onto his bed. His head pounded relentlessly. He curled into a ball and whimpered.

“Iwa-chan? That you?” Oikawa’s bubbly voice from the hall cut through his brain like a knife and he brought his knees even closer.

“Iwa-chan, are you okay?” his voice was closer now. He was most likely standing in the doorway, a hand placed on his cocked hip.

“Migraine,” Iwaizumi moaned. Oikawa was quiet.

“Did you take your meds?” he whispered eventually. Iwaizumi was hella grateful for their life long friendship because Oikawa dealt with this before and knew exactly how to make Iwa more comfortable. Including toning down his usual obnoxious tone.

“Too late,” Iwa responded weakly.

“Tch. That’s not true and you know it,” Oikawa chided softly. Iwaizumi heard him moving around in the room before he felt the bed dip.

“Here. They might not prevent it from happening anymore, but you know as well as I do that it might lessen the symptoms,” he heard Oikawa much closer this time. He groaned in response but sat up.

He clenched in eyes shut to fight off the dizziness before prying them open again to look at Oikawa in front of him. He was holding the water bottle from Iwaizumi’s bedside table and his migraine meds. The look on his face resembled a chastising mother.

“I don’t know if they will,” Iwa said, “the aura started over an hour ago.” He took them anyway.

“You didn’t have anything with you?” He shook his head and winced at the motion.

“What’s on your arm?!” Oikawa screeched and Iwaizumi hissed when it sent sharp pains through his skull.

“Sorry, sorry I’m sorry,” the bastard whispered.

“Just iodine,” Iwa responded and looked down at the brown stains on his arm.

“Oh.”

It was quiet again then and Iwaizumi settled back in bed.

“Wait, do you want to change?” Oikawa asked and stood up. He moved towards the dresser before waiting for a response.

“I want to sleep,” Iwa grumbled, getting increasingly more annoyed. He knew Oikawa was trying to help, but he hasn’t had a migraine this bad in a hot minute and the swirling in his stomach was only getting worse. Throwing up always made it worse, so he wanted to try and avoid that if he could.

“Sit up,” Oikawa said and Iwa would smack him if he had the energy.

“Oikawa, please,” he moaned again. He sat up anyway, his legs dangling off the side of his bed.

Oikawa pulled his shirt gently over his head and replaced it with a soft sweatshirt. It smelled like Oikawa and Iwa felt comforted despite himself. Next his jeans were pulled off almost clinically, as if he would break if Oikawa went too fast or pulled too hard.

Oikawa helped him into a pair of basketball shorts and then finally allowed him to lie down.

Iwaizumi wouldn’t ever say it out loud because it would give Oikawa too big of a head if he knew changing out of his school clothes made him feel just the slightest bit better. His jeans had been adding to the sensory overload.

“We were supposed to meet up with the guys tonight. Want me to cancel?” Oikawa asked, scratching Iwa’s head gently with perfectly manicured nails. It gave him a temporary relief from the pulsing that threatened to crush his head.

“No. You go,” he slurred, falling asleep.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa hummed and continued running his hand through Iwa’s hair. It didn’t stop the pain, but it diminished it enough that eventually, he fell asleep.

***

Iwaizumi woke up with a strangled breath when pain exploded through his skull and down the back of his neck. He blinked a few times, staring into the dark room trying to clear his blurry vision.

This wasn’t right. No, sleep was supposed to make him feel better, but an intense pain covered his entire head. It felt like someone was squishing his brain in between their hands. Why why why.

Suddenly he was nauseatingly dizzy and he realized he was panting, depriving his already struggling brain of precious oxygen. He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to calm down his breathing.

His body didn’t want to give him a break though because as soon as the world righted itself again, his stomach contents swirled sickeningly in his gut. He tried to ride out the nausea. He didn’t want to throw up. That would make the pounding worse. The more he thought about it, the more his stomach turned and he realized he was fighting a losing battle.

In a vain attempt to stay in bed, he thought to try and call Oikawa into the room only to put together that the roaring sound that was hammering nails into his skull was the shower. So he was on his own. He needed to make it to the bathroom. Needed to make it to Oikawa.

With heavy limbs, he forced himself to sit up and almost lost it. He gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth. It pounded in his skull. He swallowed it down and slowly made his way out of bed.

By the time he made it to the bathroom, he almost lost it three times and the pain in his head was unbearable. His eyes stung with tears and he pounded on the door before throwing it open and tumbling into the room. He collided with Oikawa who squawked loudly, painfully. Iwaizumi ignored him and collapsed in front of the toilet.

As soon as he moved his hand away from his mouth, he heaved once and vomit poured from his mouth. It burned the back of his throat and his chest. The torture stopped just long enough for him to catch his breath before he lurched forward with another gag and threw up again. His chest was on fire and the lights in the bathroom seared into his brain and he really just wanted everything to stop.

The sound of the lights clicking off registered through his haze somehow and he opened his eyes (when he closed them, he wasn’t sure). Then, a gentle hand was on his back.

“Oh, Iwa-chan. It’s a pretty bad one this time, huh?” Oikawa said tenderly from beside him. He turned his head slowly and found himself face to face with his best friend. He was wearing pajamas, so he must have gone to change at some point since Iwa entered the bathroom.

Oikawa smiled sympathetically and something in Iwaizumi cracked. Suddenly, the flood gates were open and he found himself launching himself into Oikawa’s chest. Thin arms wrapped around his back as he sobbed.

“It h-hurts s-so b-bad,” he weeped.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry, I wish it didn’t.” Oikawa buried his face in Iwa’s hair.

“You need to calm down though. It’s only going to make you feel worse.”

As if on cue, Iwaizumi’s stomach lurched again and he tore himself away from Oikawa’s arms to wretch once again.

The nausea and pain made him dizzy. He was having trouble keeping himself upright, but thankfully, Oikawa placed a hand on his forehead to keep him from banging it on the toilet seat.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Oikawa soothed as Iwa stared into the toilet. His stomach still turned dangerously but he was on the verge of collapse. The tightness in his head only got worse and he really wanted to cut his own head off. He cursed his brain for being messed up and causing him such pain.

He started heaving again, but nothing was coming up and it hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. Make it stop make it stop make it stop.

“Hajime, breathe,” Oikawa commanded quietly, rubbing between his shoulder blades. It did nothing though. His stomach kept rolling and turning thanks to his stupid stupid head.

Finally, the back of his throat gurgled and a wet hiccup brought up bile and the rest of his lunch. He coughed and sputtered into the toilet and gasped for breath. Maybe it was over.

A minute or two after the episode ended, Oikawa spoke again.

“Ya think you’re done?” He spoke so softly and so tenderly it made Iwa’s heart soft. He nodded.

Oikawa helped him lean back against the wall and a second later, handed him some water and his toothbrush. He lazily rinsed his mouth and brushed the nastiness away before spitting in the toilet. Oikawa flushed it and turned to help him up.

Once he was standing, the pain magnified tenfold and his knees buckled.

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” he mumbled and Oikawa caught him before he could fall.

“Hey, no. Not allowed,” he said and ran a wet wash rag over Iwa’s face (where did he get that?)

“Okay,” Iwa slurred, “not this time.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa chuckled. Together, they made it back to Iwa’s bedroom. Oikawa helped him under his covers and kissed his forehead.

“My poor Iwa-chan,” he sighed and scratched at Iwa’s head again.

“Stay here?” he asked pathetically. Oikawa blinked at him.

“Of course. I’ve already called the guys and told them we weren’t coming,” he said. He walked around the side of the bed and sat against the headboard, nestled beside Iwaizumi. Iwa turned and buried himself in the setter’s stomach and immediately, Oikawa’s hand was running through his hair. He sighed contentedly. This was by far one of his favorite positions.

“Go to sleep, Iwa-chan. Hopefully your migraine will be gone in the morning.”

These migraines really knocked him out. They stripped him of his usual personality and left him a sniveling, pathetic, clingy, mess. But he was a mess Oikawa was familiar with and Iwaizumi was eternally grateful for that. Oikawa knew what he meant when he couldn’t use as many words as he’d like. He knew how to make him comfortable, what foods he could tolerate and how to comfort him. There was no one else that Iwaizumi would ever want around when he got migraines. Hell, there was no one else Iwaizumi wanted around at all. As long as Oikawa was there, he’d be fine.

[marveloussupernerd]

epiphany - Yoosung Kim

I fell asleep in the middle of this one too. This seems to be a trend for when I write for Yoosung haha. “Luckily” I woke up around 3:15 and got to work finishing it. A little disclaimer: they never explicitly state what exactly Unknown did to Yoosung’s eye, so I did take a bit of creative freedom. Also have no idea how eye injuries work and did NOT want to Google it (that stuff grossed me out). I think the description is pretty mild / lacking, so hopefully it doesn’t gross you out if you’re sensitive to it?

Warnings: hospital, eye injury (kind of speculating on Yoosung’s injury in his route)

Summary: Yoosung has to return to the hospital after the RFA party to get more treatment, but you decide to visit him this time around to find out what happened and make sure he’s okay

Yoosung was the first to pull away from the kiss, cheeks bright red as he glanced at the people at the RFA party staring at him, breathing heavily as he attempted to catch his breath.

“Yoosung,” you whispered, hands very carefully making your way close to the wraps around his eye. “What happened? I thought you said you were safe.”

“Oh, about that,” he looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet your eye. He looked like a kicked puppy, surely disappointed in himself for lying to you. “I didn’t want you to call off the party or worry or anything. Plus, I am safe! Just a little less healthy than I was before.”

“Yoosung, we should go back to the hospital,” V said, making his way over to the two of you. He greeted you quickly, as this was your first time meeting, but focused his attention on Yoosung.

“You have to go back?” You asked. You hadn’t realized it was that bad.

“Oh, uh, don’t worry!” Yoosung put on his brightest smile for you, grabbing both of your hands in his. “They just wanna keep me overnight again so they can monitor it and change my wraps and stuff. No big deal.”

“Overnight... again?”

“You’re so sweet. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay. I’ll be sure to call you and text you a lot.” He seemed to be trying to wink. You couldn’t really tell, but it did make you laugh, which made him smile even wider. “Take care of yourself, okay?” He asked. You nodded.

“I should be the one telling you that. Let me know when you get there.”

He left. The second he exited the room you worked on your plan; you really wanted to visit him. Jumin made a few calls to ensure you’d be able to stay with him past visiting hours if he wanted you to. Two hours later, you were admitted into his room.

He was sleeping in his hospital bed, a little bit of drool on his pillow. You took a seat in the chair next to his bed, deciding to wait patiently for him to wake up. His nose twitched, eyebrow furrowing. He muttered your name. He was adorable. His eye fluttered open, then shut, then open again.

“Yoosung...?” You asked, unsure if he was entirely awake. He groaned your name again. You giggled. “Are you awake?” You questioned, your voice soft enough that you wouldn’t stir him if he was asleep and dreaming.

“This... isn’t a dream?” He asked, his eye opening, voice groggy. He quickly wiped the drool on the side of his mouth. “You’re really here?”

“Mhm,” you stood up to get close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I hope that’s okay with you. I can come back another time if you’d like.”

“No!” He sounded more alert now, his voice had an urgent edge to it. “I’m so happy you’re here. You should stay here... uh, if you want.”

“Of course. I wasn’t planning on only watching you sleep then leaving when you woke up,” you teased. His cheeks flushed red.

“You haven’t even changed your clothes from the party,” he commented, eyeing your ensemble. He was right. You didn’t want to waste time stopping home and changing.

“Yeah... I forgot to get you a gift too. I’ll bring one in tomorrow or something. I just wanted to get here as quick as possible,” you promised.

“You kidding? Having you here with me is the best gift ever,” he grinned. “I won’t be here for long, but you sure do brighten this hospital room.”

“Do you think they’ll let you out tomorrow?” You sat back down, reaching out your hand so you could hold his, he grabbed it, linking fingers with you, letting your thumb be on top so you could trace circles around the back of his hand.

“They aren’t entirely sure. They don’t see this type of thing everyday,” he stated. He was so indifferent about the whole thing. He was probably trying to be brave.

“Does it hurt?”

He played with his blanket with his free hand, not quite meeting your eyes. “I mean... yeah. But I’m okay. It’ll get better.”

There was a knock on the door, which drew both of your attention. It was a doctor, followed by a nurse. “Hi Yoosung, how’s it feeling?” The doctor had a dazzling smile and seemed very nonchalant. He must see things like this pretty frequently in his field.

“Uh, it’s okay. It’s starting to hurt more again.” He was so brave. It really was amazing to see.

“Alright, we’ll get some more pain meds for you. I want to replace your bandages now though if that’s okay and take a quick look at everything.” The nurse started very carefully unraveling the bandages around his head, the doctor pulling out a little light.

“You might wanna look away for this,” Yoosung advised, glancing at you. “Uhm... it’s not pretty.”

You squeezed his hand even tighter, reassuring your presence. “So, who’s your friend here?” The doctor asked, trying to keep conversation going to take Yoosung’s mind off the pain.

“We’re dating actually,” Yoosung replied. He sounded so confident and happy.

“Congratulations! It’s always nice to have someone to visit you.” They peeled the last of the bandage off. “Okay, it’s gonna be a little bright, but try your best to keep your eye open,” he ordered.

You couldn’t look away. You couldn’t see his entire eye very well, but what you could see... the entire area around it was dark and swollen and kind of crusty. The nurse pulled out some sort of wipe to try and keep the area clean. His eye was very red, very tiny needle-thin pricks covering across his eyeball. “Jesus Christ Yoosung,” you commented in awe, words spilling out of your mouth before you had a chance to think about it. You squeezed his hand tighter. “That’s what you’ve been saying isn’t that bad?”

Yoosung laughed, a tear instinctively flowing out of his bad eye from all the light and irritation. “He’s one of the bravest patients I’ve had in a while, that’s for sure,” the doctor commented, turning to smile reassuringly at you. “Now Yoosung, what do you see?”

He closed his good eye, squinting out of the other. It might have been cute in a different situation. “Colors are still pretty good. Everything just looks kind of smeared though.” His voice was steady; he was so professional about this all.

The doctor clicked off his flashlight, the nurse handing him a roll of new bandages. He got to work wrapping it back around Yoosung’s eye. “It’s still pretty infected, so I’m going to call in a higher dose of antibiotics. And then something more for the pain too.” He took a step back, as though to admire his handiwork. “You’re doing everything you can, though. Just try to relax and let your body take care of it. Relaxing is the most important.”

“Sure thing. Thank you, Doctor,” Yoosung smiled, a sort of sad smile admittedly, as the doctor left, bidding the two of you goodbye and promising to get his medicine as soon as possible.

It was just the two of you again. You glanced up at him. It was silent for a little while, the two of you glancing at each other but not knowing what words to say. Eventually, he spoke first. “I know it’s scary looking... don’t worry about it too much. I’m okay. I’m sorry if it grossed you out or scared you or anything.”

Tears leaked from your eyes; you stood abruptly and gave him the best hug you could given he was in a hospital bed. “I’m sorry,” you cried. He wrapped his arms around your back, rubbing it soothingly. “You didn’t deserve any of this. You’ve been so brave.”

“I feel like I’ve been able to be brave thanks to you,” he was smiling for real now, eye sparkling. “I want to be brave. I don’t want to worry you. I’m sorry I have.”

You paused for a second, voice shaky. “What exactly happened at the hacker’s place?” You pulled away from him slightly so you could study his face, it falling slightly. “You don’t have to tell me! If you don’t wanna relive it that’s okay.”

“No, it’s okay. But maybe you should sit down,” he advised, still smiling. He was always smiling, a genuine smile to calm your nerves. You plopped back down on your chair, reaching out to hold his hand again. “Things were going well for a while, then the hacker found us. He had a button. I was afraid he would blow us up and the apartment... Seven was... weird. Like he knew him somehow. He asked me to stay in the hall for a while.”

“That is sort of weird. Maybe he knew him from hacking school or something?” You rationalized. You didn’t want Yoosung to lose his faith in Seven; he was one of his closest friends.

“Oh! I thought that too. Anyways, he tried to set off the bomb but I stopped him. Told Seven to run away with the detonator as fast as he could, but the hacker caught me. I had ruined his plans so he wanted to have payback or something,” Yoosung’s eyes focused on his blanket. “He knew I wanted to be a vet so he decided to try and take my eyesight so it would be impossible.”

“So that’s what you want to be,” you commented, trying to brighten the mood slightly, thinking back to when he kept his major a secret. He chuckled. “I still think you’d be great at that. With or without a bad eye.”

“I think he was trying to get them both, but he ran out of time. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but a bunch of like SWAT guys broke in and helped me out of the place.”

“That’s crazy,”

“Yeah. It was. But I’m here now,” he looked up, smiling, “With you.”

You were still in shock. “How... how did you endure all that torture though?”

His ears started to heat up red. “Honestly, I thought of you. It was the one thing that helped take my mind off the pain while he was doing...” he shivered, “that. I just dreamt of you the whole time. I couldn’t leave you. Not yet. We were only pre-dating at the time.”

You leaned forward, pressing a very gentle kiss to his lips. “You’re so so brave. My knight in shining armor.”

“I wasn’t until I met you. But I wanna be brave for you.” Up super close he looked exhausted, his under eyes slightly dark, eye droopy.

“You’re so sweet,” you said, your voice quiet this time. “You look tired. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

“But... but then when I wake up it’ll probably be night and you’ll be gone!” He whined. He seemed nervous this time to be alone.

“Nope. Jumin pulled some strings. I can stay all night if you want me to.”

“Really?” The smile on his face was contagious. “Of course I want you to... is it really okay if I fall asleep for a little?”

“Of course Yoosung. Get some rest, and when you wake up I’ll be right by your side.”

He shifted to get comfortable, hand still holding yours tight. You scooted your chair closer to him so that he didn’t have to strain his arm to hold your hand. You figured it was helping him feel a bit more grounded. “Good night Yoosung. Sweet dreams,” you whispered.

“Only if I meet you in them,” he uttered, his eye fluttering shut peacefully.

[thatwhumplife]

It’s All Coming Back

Whumptober 2020 Prompt 26: If you thought the head trauma was bad...

Fandom: Chicago PD/Med

Summary: After-effects of Jay’s military service come back to haunt him. Will gets his eyes opened to some of what Jay has been dealing with.

Words: 2441

Will approached the apartment and knocked enthusiastically. He had been pulling a lot of extra shifts at Med recently and hadn’t had much time to spend with Jay. But finally – finally he had a night off and they had plans for a Hawks game and a couple of beers.

Several seconds passed with no answer.

Will knocked again. “Jay, buddy! Quit puttin’ that makeup on; it’s just a night with your brother!”

Again, he was met with silence. Will hesitated but the worry took over. He grabbed the doorknob and turned it slightly. It was unlocked and gave way immediately. The door swung open revealing a dark apartment.

“Jay?” Will called.

A soft voice cried out in response. “Agh!”

Will rushed forward and flipped the entry light on, flooding the living room with bright light.

“AH! Turn it off!” Jay moaned from the couch.

Startled, Will flipped the light back off and stumbled forward as his eyes readjusted to the darkness. He found his way to the couch and put a hand on Jay’s shoulder.

“Jay? What’s going on?”

“Hurts,” he whispered. “Too loud.”

Will brought his voice down to a whisper. “What hurts? What happened?”

“Head,” he breathed out, heaving as he pushed the palms of his hands against his temples.

“Did you get hurt? Did something happen at work?” Will was growing more concerned by the second. He didn’t see any blood though that was hard to know for sure with the two of them shrouded in darkness.

“Migraine…bad one…” Jay finally said.

Will took a calming breath. A migraine was something he could deal with. “Did you take anything?”

“Imitrex. A while ago. Hasn’t touched it.”

Jay suddenly pitched forward and reached for a bowl on the floor that Will had just barely missed with his foot. He leaned halfway off the couch and began dry heaving.

“How long since the pain started?”

“I don’t know,” he gasped once the gagging subsided. “What time is it?”

“Almost 7:30.”

“Oh god. Right. The game. Aw man, I’m sorry, I should have called you.” Jay rolled back onto the couch and covered his eyes with his arm.

“No, no, no, don’t worry about that. When did the pain start?” he asked again.

“Around 3?”

“Is that when you took the Imitrex?”

Jay nodded silently.

“God, Jay, you should have called me. When did you start throwing up?”

“I don’t know. A while ago.”

Will put his hand under Jay’s shoulder blade and started to help him up. “C’mon. You’re going into Med.”

Jay moaned and tried to push him off. “No, no, just let me try and sleep it off. I can try another Imitrex.”

“Nope. Not negotiable. You’re dehydrated from throwing up and the pain is way out of hand. You need to get it under control.”

Will made another move to pull Jay into a sitting position. He obeyed this time but kept his hands over his eyes and laid his head back as soon as he stopped moving.

“Are you dizzy?”

Jay shook his head. Will didn’t believe him but figured it wasn’t worth arguing about.

“Wallet in your pocket?”

Jay nodded, trying to conserve his energy for what he knew would be a very uncomfortable walk to the car.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Will pulled Jay to a standing position and took his right arm to guide him. He opened the door to the hallway and the hall light hit Jay like a Mack truck.

“Agh,” he moaned, trying to cover his eyes more thoroughly with his left arm.

Will slipped his sweatshirt off and pushed it against Jay’s hand. “Use that instead.”

Jay balled up the sweatshirt and pushed it against his eyes as they made the slow trek to Will’s car. Once inside, Will buckled him in and shut the door as softly as he could.

Jay used both hands to hold the sweatshirt over his eyes and curled up, leaning against the window.

The ride was uneventful and quiet. Will left the radio off and tried to avoid any sudden jolts.

Pulling up to the entrance, Will whispered to Jay to stay in the car, that he would be right back.

Will arrived back a few minutes later pushing a wheelchair with Natalie in tow. He tapped on the window, which alerted Jay to his presence, before carefully opening the door.

“Jay, I’m here with Natalie. We have a wheelchair here to make it easier.”

“No, no I’m good.”

Will suppressed the urge to chuckle. “Just ride in the wheelchair. It will be easier to keep your eyes covered. The lights are going to be bright.”

Jay took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, allowing Will and Natalie to guide him into the seat. Will placed his feet on each of the footrests before nodding to Natalie.

“I’m gonna go park the car, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Jay grunted a noncommittal reply and Will took that to mean he’d better hurry.

Natalie guided Jay into the ER and into a waiting treatment room. She immediately turned down the lights as low as they could go and helped him up onto the bed.

“Halstead?” he heard a voice ask.

Natalie turned and saw Maggie standing in the doorway.

Natalie nodded. “Migraine. Can you send a nurse in?”

Maggie nodded and turned around to flag someone down. “April, need you here in treatment two.”

April walked over and nearly ran into Will who was rushing to get back to Jay’s side.

“Jay, I’m back, I’m right here.” Will put a hand on Jay’s thigh and squeezed gently. Jay continued to keep the sweatshirt over his eyes but visibly relaxed at Will’s touch.

“Jay,” Natalie said cautiously, trying not to speak too loudly, “Will filled me in on most of it. Sounds like your migraine med isn’t working. You have a history of migraines?”

Jay nodded and Will felt a stab of guilt in his stomach. He had no idea.

“Since my TBI,” he said, painfully, “Overseas. But I haven’t had one for a long time.”

Will realized again how absent he was when Jay needed him most. Jay didn’t tell him much of anything about what happened in Afghanistan or what happened when he got back stateside.

“Let’s see if we can get that pain under control. How would you rate it right now?”

Jay was quiet for a few moments. “Six,” he said simply, then after another second, “seven.”

Will shook his head and mouthed to Natalie, ‘no way’. Natalie smiled and shook her head back at him.

“Jay, I’m going to have you get in a gown and then we’ll get you some medicine to help with that pain and nausea. April? Start a line and give 30mg of Ketorolac and 8mg of Zofran. And run a bag of saline.”

“You got it,” she replied with a smile. “I’ll be right back, Jay.”

They left the room leaving Jay and Will together. Will tapped Jay’s leg. “Let’s get you into this gown.”

“Don’ wanna,” he complained without missing a beat.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But do it anyway. For me.”

Will helped Jay out of his clothes and into the very unflattering hospital gown. Getting him back into bed, he grabbed a thin blanket out of the cabinet and covered him up before trying (and failing) to snap the bed rails up as quietly as possible.

“Will-“ Jay said suddenly, “sick.”

Will grabbed a small basin out of a cabinet and rushed it under Jay’s chin as he started dry heaving again, spitting a mixture of saliva and bile into the bowl.

“I gotcha Jay. Take some deep breaths,” Will whispered, rubbing his back. Jay finally stopped gagging and laid back against the bed, holding the sweatshirt back to his eyes tightly.

“You okay now?”

Jay nodded wordlessly.

Will took a seat next to the bed. As much as he wished he were treating his brother, he was secretly relieved that he could just be here for him. Especially since he wasn’t there for him before.

April returned with the medication and an IV kit.

“Jay, I need to turn the lights up a bit so I can see to get this IV in you, okay? You can keep that over your eyes, I just need to borrow your arm.”

Jay took a deep breath and offered his left arm to her while trying to keep the sweatshirt over his eyes with the right one.

Will watched carefully and noticed his breathing becoming slightly more rapid.

“Jay, I’m going to put the bed back just a little further so we can wrap this around your head and you won’t have to try and hold onto it.”

Will did his best not to jostle Jay’s head too much. Once the sweatshirt was firmly in place, Will grasped Jay’s right hand and squeezed. He leaned forward and whispered in Jay’s ear. “I’ll tell you everything before she does it, I swear.”

April looked on and waited for Will to signal to her that she could start. He looked back at her and nodded.

“She’s going to put that elastic band around your arm and feel around a bit, okay?”

With no response from Jay, she continued.

“Now she’s going to wipe your arm down with an alcohol pad.”

April continued working quietly and readied the needle.

“Okay, Jay, you’re going to feel a big stick here in just a second but it will be over so fast.”

Will squeezed Jay’s hand in his and placed his other hand on his shoulder. “Ready?”

Jay gave a slight but hesitated nod.

April slid the needle in and Jay’s body tensed for a moment before relaxing. She pulled the needle back out, leaving the cannula in place, and taped it down securely.

“That’s it, it’s in,” Will said, rubbing Jay’s shoulder. “You’re gonna start feeling better soon.”

April pushed the medication and then hooked the line up to a fresh back of saline before turning the lights back down and leaving.

Silence stretched out between them. Will knew Jay was still in immense pain and didn’t want to make it worse by talking. So he opted for holding his hand and occasionally running his fingers gently through his hair.

A half hour or so passed before Natalie reappeared.

“Jay,” she whispered, “how are you feeling?”

Jay took a deep breath before cautiously pulling the rolled up sweatshirt off of his eyes. He cleared his throat before mumbling, “Better.”

“How would you rate your pain?”

Jay pondered the question for a moment. “Like a two?”

Natalie smiled. “Good, good, I’m glad to hear that. Keep relaxing for a bit longer so we can make sure that pain stays under control. Do you need anything?”

“Water? Can I get some ice water, please?”

Will immediately jumped up. “I got it. No problem, Jay.”

Will followed Natalie outside as his anxiety for his brother’s well-being finally calmed.

“I had no idea he had lasting migraines from a TBI,” Will admitted.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No. He hasn’t told me much of anything from his time overseas or his time after he came back home. And I wasn’t exactly around when he got back. God, I feel awful. I haven’t really ever been there for him. Not since we were kids.”

“I’m sure he understands. You’re here now and that’s what matters.”

Will shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Just go get that water and be with him.”

Will hurried back to Jay’s room with the Styrofoam cup and straw. “Here Jay, I got you that ice water,” he said, pulling the bedside tray closer and setting the cup down. “Do you want me to raise the bed back up?”

Jay nodded and wiped a hand down his face, trying to get rid of the sudden grogginess that had appeared once the pain subsided.

Jay sat up a little straighter and gripped the cup tightly before taking a long sip. “Thanks, man.”

“Of course.”

An awkward silence fell over them. Jay took a couple of more sips before putting the cup back and laying his head back against the pillow.

Natalie appeared again at just the right time. “Still doing alright there, Jay?”

Jay cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “Yeah, yeah I am. Thanks.”

“Do you still have a neurologist that you see regularly?”

“Uh, no, not really. I haven’t had a migraine this bad for a long time. I didn’t really feel like I needed to keep going. I had the Imitrex which was working.”

Natalie nodded. “Maybe it’s time to consider going back, just for a cursory check in and to maybe see if your Migraine treatment plan needs to be modified.”

Jay didn’t really respond other than a slight nod.

“Before we kick you out of here, I’m going to give you a dose of Decadron – it’s a steroid that will help make sure your migraine doesn’t come back in the next day or so. Sound okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely. That would be great.”

“Just so we’re clear, this will not exempt you from seeing your neurologist. This should cover you for tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have another one next week,” she warned, hoping that Will would at least be able to get him to follow through.

“Neurologist. Got it,” Jay said reluctantly.

“Good. I’ll send April back with the Decadron and then we can get you out of here.”

“Sounds great. Thanks, Natalie.”

The room was silent again for several seconds before Will finally spoke up.

“Look Jay, uh, I know I wasn’t a great brother to you back then. Back when you came home, I mean. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I should have been here –“

“Nope, don’t even go there,” Jay cut him off. “Water under the bridge, man.”

“But it’s not. I didn’t even know you still had symptoms from your TBI. And I was just off in New York doing my own thing while you were back here alone.”

“I wasn’t alone; I had dad.”

Will scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure that was a grade A support system.”

“It is what it is. And honestly, I don’t get the migraines very often. I can’t even remember when my last one was. It’s just a fluke that I had one today and that it was really bad. I’m managing just fine otherwise.”

“Which I’m thankful for. But please, Jay, please, for me. Take care of yourself. Call your neurologist and make an appointment.”

Jay smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

[hongism]

finding beauty in your darkest places - chapter 3

Pairing: TBA (ot7 x reader potentially in the future, unsure at the moment)

Genre: Psychiatric Clinic!au, Heavy Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 6947

Warnings: strong language; deals with mental and emotional illnesses and disorders as a heavy theme of the story, future graphic depictions of disorders - please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable

Rating: PG-13/Mature

Summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there.

aka

Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn't work out according to his plan.

a/n: i know jungkook doesn’t have a younger brother named hyungsik, but he does in this fic. remember it’s a work of fiction!! i’m taking lots of creative liberty with this

Chapter:

2 | 3 | 4

Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places

Chapter 3: Cracking the Mask

Jungkook is moving as fast as he can without running, because the possibility of someone seeing him sprint past or worse, knocking someone over as he runs, is too present at the forefront of his mind. His notebook — the sole reason he went to his room in the first place — lies forgotten on his bed. He doesn’t need it anymore. Something else occupies his interest and attention, and he needs to remedy that before anything else. After seeing Hoseok, Jungkook feels dirty inside, as though he witnessed something meant for no one else’s eyes. He can’t shake the sensation no matter how hard he tries. At this point, there is only one option he has, and that is to seek out answers from the one person Jungkook trusts to ask.

So, for that reason, Jungkook bursts into the library with the expectation to find his target there, and it doesn’t deceive him, because there Namjoon sits. His thick framed glasses have made a return, and as he jerks his head to look at Jungkook, a few loose strands of hair fall over the frames.

“What happened?” He asks, eyes not leaving Jungkook’s. Jungkook must look a complete mess because there’s a thinly veiled look of panic in Namjoon’s expression.

Jungkook’s chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, only now aware of the anxiety attack that plagues his body. He tries to speak but his voice fails him, and he’s left making strange motions in the air. 

Namjoon shuts the book in his lap, and the snap of the pages resounds through the room. The sound flips a switch in Jungkook’s mind. He returns to reality a moment later, head still spinning and heart still racing.

“Ho-Hoseok,” Jungkook manages to stutter. “What’s wrong with him? I need answers, please. I need to know.” 

First, a sigh in response. Then, Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, simply staring at the wall with pursed lips that accentuate the dimples in his cheeks. 

“This isn’t going to be the answer you want, but I’m going to remind you again that it isn’t your business to pry, Jungkook. I’m not doing this out of spite or to purposefully keep you in the dark. Simply put, I can’t share information about the conditions of the patients here.” Namjoon sets his book to the side. Jungkook watches the movement as he gnaws the inside of his cheek. But why not? What’s the big issue here?

“Fine,” he bites back, leaving Namjoon a bit shocked. “Then tell me what Yesung meant about Yoongi and Y/N.” He knows that he’s testing his luck, and Namjoon will most likely shut him down again, but Jungkook has too many questions to care. 

“Jungkook…you already know what I’m going to tell you.”

“You’ll say it’s not my business, but it is. It became my business when I witnessed the fight in the dining room. As a matter of fact, shouldn’t it be everybody’s business now?” Namjoon leans forward, hand finding his forehead, and he rubs the skin there while laughing weakly.

“You’re too damn smart and persistent. If you aren’t careful, you’ll do just fine as a troublemaker here.” Jungkook smiles to himself at the words. “Look, anything I tell you from this point on does not leave this room. You keep it to yourself. Don’t tell Taehyung, Y/N, nurses — no one. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.”

“When Hoseok came in, I was already a patient. At the time, I was assigned to be the person to help Hoseok get settled in and figure out how things work around the clinic. We were close early on because we’re the same age, so I used that as a common ground to get to know him better. I made a lot of effort to maintain that closeness with him, but as time passed we grew apart because Hoseok needed to be alone or away from other patients. It progressed quickly and in a bad way, to a point where no one would see Hoseok for days. Whenever we did see him…it was like a blank slate. All the effort and progress seemed to be erased. I can’t in good conscience tell you exactly what Hoseok is struggling with, but it’s nothing good. It’s not right to compare, especially here of all places, but I believe that his case is the worst out of everyone at the clinic. There isn’t much Omelas can do for him in all honesty.”

“Why is he here of all places then? There are other facilities and hospitals he could be at.”

Namjoon glances past Jungkook, eyeing the door then scanning the room. He motions for Jungkook to come a bit closer, and the younger does as asked, squatting beside Namjoon’s chair. “Again, this is between the two of us.”

“Of course.”

“I have a theory that Omelas keeps certain patients here to be an example to outsiders and potential patients. I think the Clinic operates in a way that wants to have patients coming back time and time again rather than actually helping over time. The way Omelas gains its good reputation is by having a state of the art facility and the best residential style clinic there is, but the staff themselves are no better than anyone else out there. There…we have — Omelas has a history with nurses and issues among staff, but they sweep it under the rug and act like nothing happens. If the public were to find out about those issues, Omelas would lose credibility and patients and money, which is the biggest concern for them.”

“I expected that much, to be honest,” Jungkook says.

“Do not argue with me, Mr. Jeon. I am making this decision because it is the best decision for you right now. I ask that you try the medication for at least one to three months before switching to something different again.”

“Just based on my meetings with the doctors so far. They changed one of my meds to something I’ve tried before, but I noticed that some of the other patients have that medication.”

“Saving money by ordering the same pills for multiple people,” Namjoon explains. “When the most important case needs a switch, other patients get the same switch as well. Omelas gets away with it too. It’s not like we have a voice to tell anyone, right?”

“Then…the issues with staff…is that why the nurses took so long to separate Y/N, Mingyu, and Yesung?”

“The nurses like to let things happen from time to time because it teaches the other patients a lesson. If Y/N and Mingyu get in a fight, the rest of us see the consequences. In unfortunate cases, people like Taehyung are affected negatively because of those “lessons”. Even Mingyu suffers from it because of his condition. It’s a domino effect for the Clinic. The first domino falls with a fight, then there’s a reaction, a lesson, and consequence. Because of the negative effects on certain patients, nurses have to take a few steps back with them and redo treatment. Then they’re extending the stay of the patients and making money all the while. They know they’ll never run out of situations like the one that happened today because of the radical instability between patients. Perfect system really.” Jungkook squints at the older man.

“How do you know so much about all the patients?”

“Research and experience.”

Experience from what? He said he’s never been to another facility. Omelas is the only one. Jungkook sits back on his heels, gaze finding the floor.

“We currently have two patients who have been here for almost six years now, but that’s the longest anyone has stayed.”

Six years would give you plenty of time for research and experience… Seeing people come and go so much, you’d really learn a lot, huh?

“Anyways, enough about that. Did you need anything else?” Namjoon asks. He tilts his head to the side slightly, and Jungkook blinks up at him.

“I’m still curious about what Yesung meant earlier. You know, the whole Y/N and Yoongi issue? It seemed like such a specific insult that there must be something behind it.” The warmth in Namjoon’s eyes drops, quickly turning cold, and he stands up before Jungkook can even blink.

“Quit asking, Jungkook.”

“I’m so-sorry, I was just c—”

“I don’t want to talk about them so you shouldn’t bother.”

“Talk about Yoongi and Y/N?”

“Drop it now before I have to say it again.” 

Jungkook’s jaw stutters a bit, moving along with his mouth but no sound comes out. He pushes himself to his feet and tries to ignore the shaky weakness pulsing through his legs. “S-Sorry,” he stammers at Namjoon’s back. “I’m sorry for bringing it up again. Sorry. I’ll, uh, I’m gonna go.” He can’t tell himself that he isn’t running away from his problems because he ditches Namjoon where he stands and bolts down the hallway. He could’ve waited to see Namjoon’s reaction, or tried to explain himself further, or even apologized a bit more. Although, as he makes his hasty retreat back in the direction of his room, Jungkook thinks that there was nothing else he could’ve said to Namjoon. The hostility in his tone and the sudden anger at Jungkook’s mention of Yoongi and Y/N came out of left field, but Jungkook was facing right. He hates that he’s leaving with more questions than answers. 

At the very least, he got a good amount of information from Namjoon before the conversation turned sour, and Jungkook plans to scribble it all down in his journal before he forgets it. He normally waits until the end of the day to put those thoughts to paper, saving it for when no one can interrupt him or intrude on his secret compilation of information about Omelas and the patients within it. It would be horrible and embarrassing if anyone saw those pages because Jungkook has notes about everything he knows about each person in the clinic, as well as general information about what he’s noticed between patients (such as the connection between Yoongi and Y/N that he still has no insight on). Now he can add Namjoon to that equation though, because the hostility came from somewhere, and Jungkook just needs to figure out where and how its linked to the others. 

Jungkook slows his pace as he walks through the hall of bedrooms just to look at Hoseok’s door.

“It’s not right to compare, especially here of all places, but I believe that his case is the worst out of everyone at the clinic. There isn’t much Omelas can do for him in all honesty.”

He makes another mental note to add that bit of information to his journal as well under Hoseok’s name, alongside the comment you made when Hoseok walked into the dining hall this morning. Those plans may have to wait for awhile though, because as soon as he steps into his bedroom, he is greeted by three faces instead of the zero he expected.

“Uh…” He freezes in the doorway, hand still resting on the handle, and blinks from face to face.

“I told you we should have done this in my room.” You speak first. You cross your arms over your chest and send a pointed glare towards Jimin, who stands beside Taehyung’s bed in a similar stance. Jimin responds with an equally heated glare, then rolls his eyes when you don’t relent.

“Should I come back later?” Jungkook offers, motioning over his shoulder. You drop your arms to your side and sigh. As you move, Jungkook notices the white bandages the encompass both hands, tucked neatly around your palms. You clench your fingers around the bandages when Jungkook’s stare lingers. “I can go,” he offers again. You shake your head then look towards the bed where Taehyung sits, knees tucked to his chest and arms hugging them closer. Taehyung doesn’t look in Jungkook’s direction, and Jungkook fights to swallow the lump in his throat. Still ignoring me…acting like I don’t even exist.

“It’s fine. We were just finishing up,” you explain and make a move to walk out the door. A strangled noise escapes Taehyung’s lips, and he jerks his head up when you start moving, leaving the rest of them to wait for him to say something. He never speaks though, and so Jimin pushes past you to snatch Jungkook by the arm and tug him into the hallway. He slides the door shut before anyone can say anything in protest.

“Just a few minutes, I promise,” Jimin explains when he releases Jungkook’s arm. Jungkook blinks at the shorter man, skin stinging where he grabbed him.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No.” A sharp inhale, prolonged exhale, then — “Well, actually, I have a question. If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Go ahead!” As long as you don’t ask me anything personal, Jungkook adds to himself, biting down hard on his lower lip. Jimin scratches the back of his neck and blinks at the door for a few moments before continuing with his train of thought.

“Do you — do you think badly of Taehyung for what happened the first day you were here? Like, the whole thing with the nurses and that incident? Taehyung has been worried about it ever since it happened honestly. He brings it up all the time, and even though I try to reassure him, he still believes that you think he’s crazy. I mean, I know we’re at a mental health clinic, but — no one here is crazy. Not the way Taehyung thinks he is.” 

“Oh.” The sound leaves Jungkook’s mouth without him wanting it to, and he doesn’t mean to sound so shocked at the revelation from Jimin. Rather, he gets the same sensation he felt when he witnessed Taehyung’s breakdown on the first day. The feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing himself in Taehyung, seeing a reflection of who he is and what goes through his head every day. And the irony of it all is that as much as Taehyung has been avoiding him, Jungkook has been doing the same despite not wanting to admit it. 

“I—if you do, you know, hold it against him…could we not mention it to him? I don’t want this to make anything worse—”

“Wait, no! I don’t hold it against him, I promise! In all honesty, I-I thought the same thing. I was worried about him thinking I’m crazy and that I was being intrusive when that happened. I really don’t think badly of Taehyung in any way.”

“Ah, thank goodness! I knew Taehyung was overthinking it, but it’s so hard to get him to think straight again after something like that happens.”

“So, uh, then was that what you guys were discussing at breakfast?”

“You mean what caused the fight? Yea, we were talking about that before you got here as well. Taehyung is a bit upset with Y/N for making a big deal out of it. I don’t blame him but, well don’t tell Y/N I said this or else she’ll get salty about it, but she was right to start a fight with Mingyu and Yesung. I think one of them is the culprit too, so if she hadn’t confronted them, then I would’ve done it myself.”

“If it’s so important to Taehyung, why wouldn’t he want to make a big deal out of it?”

“It is important, yes, but Taehyung hates conflict. The last thing he wants is to be the cause of conflict, so he feels responsible for the fight this morning. Can’t convince him that it’s not no matter what though.” Jimin shakes his head, dirty blonde hair falling over his forehead. 

“Why is the bear so important anyways?” Jungkook inquires. Jimin doesn’t acknowledge the question, acting as though he didn’t hear what Jungkook said despite the fact that they were having an active conversation less than a minute ago. Jungkook blinks at the man’s profile for a few moments and waits for him to snap back to reality, but Jimin stays quiet. “Uh, why is the bear important?” He repeats a bit louder. Jimin looks at Jungkook with wide and clouded eyes.

“Oh, it helps keep Taehyung’s thoughts in order.” Jungkook nods slowly. 

“So what does Y/N have to do with it?”

“The bear was a gift from her.” Jimin says it as though the fact is common knowledge and Jungkook should already know this. Jungkook has more questions, wants to know why Y/N gave Taehyung the bear and how the bear helps keep his thoughts in order when it’s only a stuffed animal, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to ask. The door slides open all the sudden, startling both Jimin and Jungkook. You stand behind it, eyes on Jimin.

“Let’s talk, Park.” You brush past Jungkook, not sparing him a glance, and start walking down the hallway without waiting for Jimin to respond or follow.

“Ah, wait up!” He rolls his eyes as he calls after you, but you make no signs of slowing down. “I’ll see you later, Jungkook. Bye Tae! See you in a bit!” 

With that, Jungkook is left to the silence that is contained within his bedroom. Even though Jimin confirmed that Taehyung isn’t ignoring him, Jungkook cannot prevent the overwhelming sense of anxiety that rushes through his system now that he’s alone with Taehyung. He could turn and leave rather than facing Taehyung, but that would seem too suspicious. Also, he doesn’t want to risk hurting Taehyung’s feelings any more than he already has, albeit unintentionally. So, he pushes the anxiety down and steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind him and going to sit on his bed without looking in Taehyung’s direction. 

The bed squeaks as he sits on his mattress.

Taehyung hasn’t moved an inch from the position he was in when Jungkook first got to the room, and he doesn’t make any effort to move now. Neither of them speak, or look at each other either, even though Jungkook is facing him. He knows that he should be the one to make an effort and breach conversation, but he can’t think of what to say. 

The bed keeps creaking as Jungkook fidgets, moving his legs under him then dropping them off the side of the bed again and repeating the process five more times without any release from the discomfort. Then all the sudden it isn’t Jungkook’s bed that is creaking because Taehyung shifts and climbs out of bed, and Jungkook panics more than he already is, which shouldn’t even be possible at this rate.

“Are you feeling any better?” He blurts at Taehyung’s back. Taehyung hesitates, stopping in his tracks to glance over his shoulder. Jungkook regrets opening his mouth now. ��I-I mean, I hope — I was hoping that you’re feeling better.”

“Do you think I’m strange or crazy?”

“Hmm? What? No, not at all!” Jungkook shakes his head as Taehyung sits back down on the edge of his bed, still making an effort to not look in Jungkook’s direction. “I…well, I thought you saw me as weird and strange and crazy. I thought you were ignoring because of that.” Taehyung tilts his head to the side.

“I never thought that actually. Really I’m just embarrassed about having an episode in front of you, and I feel bad that it had to happen on your first day.”

“I hope they’re able to find your bear,” Jungkook says. “If there’s anything I can do to help…” Taehyung’s chin finally turns in his direction, and his warm brown eyes meet Jungkook’s. He grins, lips forming a rectangle, and the skin around his eyes scrunches up. 

“Thanks, it means a lot. I trust that Y/N and Jimin can find it, but I need to tell myself that it won’t be the end of the world if they can’t find it. Oh, by the way, uh, do you know what I have?” Jungkook suffers a lapse of judgement in that moment, because he blinks at Taehyung with a blank expression and no clue as to what he’s talking about. Taehyung laughs then points to his head, tapping his temple while smiling. 

“A-Ah, sorry! I don’t know. It’s not really my place to ask though, is it?”

“I guess, yea. Y/N always tells me that when I ask somebody that. Personally, I don’t really like to talk about my problems, you know? I’d much rather act like nothing is wrong with me even though I know that there is. It’s easy to pretend nothing’s wrong sometimes. And avoiding people who witness my episodes and switches is a way for me to cope with the stress of it all. The bear…the bear helps a lot too. It made things better for awhile, but I think that recently things have gotten a bit worse. I mean, even before I lost the bear. When I first got here, it started out as Cyclothymia, but I’m not sure what it is anymore.” Cyclo—what? “Well, I need to leave for my afternoon appointment. Thanks for talking to me and humoring my rant.” 

Taehyung is up and out the door before Jungkook can react. That afternoon, while Taehyung is gone and he has the room to himself, Jungkook writes down every bit of information he can from the fight in the morning to the word ‘cyclothymia’ that he has barely any idea how to spell.

∞

“Mr. Jeon, you have some visitors in the reception area.” The nurse in the doorway interrupts Jungkook as he’s tugging a sweatshirt down over his white t-shirt.

“Huh?” He says in response, needing a confirmation on what he thinks he heard.

“You have two visitors waiting for you in the reception area.”

I do? Is it Sunday already? Jungkook follows the nurse out the door after tucking his journal back under the mattress. Taehyung left minutes ago for his morning appointment, and Jungkook was going to head over to the entertainment room to play the piano for a bit, but this must take precedence over that. 

The nurse doesn’t speak as he leads Jungkook to the reception area, leaving him in the dark about who might be visiting, although Jungkook has a vague idea about who it could be. His suspicions are confirmed the minute he steps through the white door with the small rectangular window that he hasn’t seen since his first day in the clinic.

“Oh, Jungkook!”

He wasn’t expecting to be hit by such a strong wave of emotions. It’s only been a week after all, but seeing his mom jump up from the stiff white chairs and lunge for him with arms open wide makes his eyes sting within an instant. She grabs hold of him as soon as he’s within arm’s reach, pulling him into a tight hug and running her fingers through his hair that he forgot to brush this morning. Hell, he would’ve made an effort to look more put together if he had known she was coming to visit. She didn’t come alone either, as Jungkook can see when he looks past her shoulder to spot his younger brother standing a few feet away, scratching his neck and staring at the floor as their mom smothers Jungkook. She pulls back for a moment only to press her hands on either side of his face. She scans his features over and over before the tears start flowing.

“How was your first week? Is everything going okay? How are you? Oh, goodness, Jungkook, my baby, I missed you so much already!”

“Mom, I’m fine. My first week was fine. It’s okay, you don’t need to worry so much. It’s only been a week!” He sighs as she keeps fussing over his hair and face but can’t keep the smile off his lips. “Hey, Hyungsik.” 

“Hey, hyung. You’re looking thinner.”

“Oh, are they not feeding you enough? You’re a growing boy, they should be feeding you lots! Do I need to talk to them?” 

“Everything is fine. I’m not losing weight, I’m being fed plenty, and if anything, it’s just the stress of the first week.”

“Stress? You said it was fine!”

“Just settling in! The stress of settling in, that’s what I mean.” Jungkook struggles to reassure his mom that things are alright. He nudges her back towards the chairs, falling into one himself.

“Has anyone been mean or harsh towards you? Making friends? Good roommate?” She continues to grill him with questions as she sits back down, hand finding his and holding it in a tight grip.

“Everything has been great. I’ve been making a few friends, and my roommate is great. You really don’t need to worry about anything, mom.”

“You’re my baby. Of course I have to worry!” Then why did you stick me in here? Jungkook knows he can’t ruin the moment with the question, so he forces his next smile.

“Hyungsik is your baby! He’s the younger one, after all. Besides, I’ll be out in no time and back home before you know it.”

“Usually, no one leaves in less than a year because of a willingness and a drive to continue treatment.”

Nurse Irene’s words haven’t left his mind, but Jungkook can’t imagine having to stay here for more than a year. He’ll say and do anything to get out in less time than that. His mom frowns at his hopeful statement. She doesn’t say anything to discourage him even though her thoughts are clear in Jungkook’s eyes. 

“Uh, where’s Dad?” He inquires, trying to shift the subject. “Why didn’t he come too?”

“It was work, honey.”

“He doesn’t work on Sundays though.”

“A business trip. He left on Friday.” Jungkook drops his gaze, lips snapping together. “I didn’t tell him we were planning to come! If he had known, I know he would’ve come along to see you.” No he wouldn’t have. He probably knew before Friday and just took the trip to have an excuse to not be here.

“I shouldn’t keep you guys too long,” Jungkook says. He pulls his hand out of his mother’s grip, wiping his palms against his sweatpants as he gets up.

“We’ve barely talked, honey!”

“I…I have an appointment soon,” he lies with a crooked smile. His mom’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t argue with him. Instead she gets up and envelops Jungkook with another warm hug.

“I promise that we’ll come back again soon, okay? I’ll bring Dad next time too.”

“Yea, that sounds good. I’ll try to visit when I’m able to start going out. Drop by from time to time or something.” Her hand cups his cheek again, bringing his gaze back to her somewhat bloodshot eyes from the earlier tears. 

“Remember to eat well, and get lots of sleep! Try to get as much fresh air as you can too. Don’t stay in your room all the time either. Talk to people and socialize, okay? I hope you’ll put on a little weight by the time I come back. Your brother’s right: you look a bit skinnier. Be honest with the doctors and nurses!”

“Okay, okay, Mom. I get it, yea? Eat, sleep, socialize, fresh air.”

“Good. Ugh, I already want to come back to see you and I haven’t even left! I’ll let you go so you can get to your appointment! I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Mom. See you, Hyungsik.”

“Bye, hyung. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Jungkook turns around first. Heads for the door and joins the nurse who still stands in the threshold of the doorway. He steps through without looking back, because he knows that if he looks over his shoulder, the tears pricking the corners of his eyes may start to fall, and that’s the last thing he wants his mom and brother to see before they leave. He needs to be put together for them. He has to have his shit together so they think he’s fine. Because he is. Maybe it’ll make them realize that they shouldn’t have dumped him here and they’ll pull him out before he gets sucked deeper. The white door slams shut. The sound echoes through the hallway. The nurse at his side doesn’t stick around any longer, heading off without Jungkook and leaving him feeling even more alone. 

He can’t stave off the tremble in his hands as he walks, even as he presses them against his legs in attempts to control it. The walk to the entertainment room feels longer than it actually is. Thoughts running at a hundred miles per second, and Jungkook can’t pick out a single coherent one. His mind is a jumbled mess. He wants to feel relieved at the fact that no one is in the entertainment room, and he has the chance to be alone, but the loneliness seeps through his skin. It burrows into his system, hides itself in his feelings, and leaves a growing sense of dread to spread through every fiber of his being.

The ivory keys of the piano are cold when he presses his fingers against them. He doesn’t put much thought into the notes that reach the air as he plays, tapping away to a rhythm only he knows. And after a few minutes of that mindless playing, he starts to hum to himself, then turns the hums into words. It starts out simple and basic, but as he keeps playing, Jungkook feels the screws beginning to loosen. The walls are crumbling. He’s losing the minimal grip he has on reality and sanity. The moistness of tears touches his cheeks, and his hands stutter on the keys, hitting unnecessary flats and sharps. The jarring break of the music flips a switch in Jungkook.

Why did they come? Why? They didn’t need to, it’s only been a week. What did Mom think was going to happen? Does she think I’m some sort of loose cannon? Four institutions, failure after failure. Maybe she assumed I would be done for within the first week this time. God, Hyungsik must be embarrassed to have me as a brother. I’m supposed to be a role model to him. The older brother. The person he looks up to. I can’t even keep my mind straight for five seconds, let alone long enough to hold a conversation with him. Four clinics. Maybe I’m a hopeless case. They can’t fix me because I’m another level of crazy they can’t treat. 

He slumps on the bench, elbows slamming against the keys. A sob tears through his chest.

Shit, dammit, fuck. I can’t do it. I can’t recover this time. I won’t be able to. It won’t last, it never has. I won’t even be able to fake it well enough to get out of here. 

If anything, the first week has sent Jungkook further into a downward spiral, and he isn’t quite sure where he is going to land in the long run. Balling his fists, he increases the pressure until his nails dig into the skin and pinch there.

I thought I had a grip, a plan, an idea of what the hell I was doing here. Why is it already falling apart? Why is the world crumbling around me?

“Oh, sorry to interrupt!”

Shit. Jungkook covers his eyes even though whoever stands behind him can’t see the tears. He doesn’t move a muscle after that, gnawing on his tongue to gain control over his unsteady breathing.

“Ah, it’s you! Sorry, I can come back later. I know you like to have some time to yourself.”

“No, no, it’s okay! I was just finishing up.” His voice sounds hoarse and croaky. Any attempts or hopes to seem fine just went out the window with his shaky tone. And the newcomer picks up on it too.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” Her voice is soft, a quiet tone filling the silence ringing in Jungkook’s ear, and he can’t handle it right now. It’s too much.

“Fine! I’m fine! Really, fine,” he insists. He tries to prove his point by standing up, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, and faces the person behind him. He nearly doesn’t recognize her upon first glance, but he has no name to put to her face, only a vague memory of seeing her sit at a table alongside Mingyu and Yesung during meals.

“I-I’m Hyewon. I’m not sure we’ve officially met, but you’re Jungkook, right?”

“Yea, I am.” Jungkook eyes the door over her shoulder, ready to make his escape, but Hyewon keeps him rooted to the spot as she continues to speak.

“You don’t seem okay, even though you said you are. Is there — is there anything I can do to help you? I know the first week is super stressful, and it isn’t any easier trying to handle it on your own. Well, maybe, if something is bothering you—”

“I am perfectly okay. Thanks for asking though.” Jungkook brings his hands up to his chest. The pale haired girl frowns in response, pushing a clump of platinum hair over her shoulder as she tilts her head. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, well, if you ever need to talk or rant about anything…you can talk to me? It would be a little easier than talking to the nurses or doctors, at least I find it easier that way.” 

“It’s fine. I don’t need that.” Jungkook keeps shaking his head as he sidesteps around Hyewon. The words can barely leave his lips thanks to the constriction of his throat and the leaden sensation coating his tongue, but it’s enough to make his getaway. He’s out the door and running down the hall faster than Hyewon can react. 

Her interruption didn’t halt his breakdown, only paused it for a few precious minutes, and Jungkook knows the worst of it is yet to come. Now, the cold creeps into his fingers and toes, the wobble reaches his knees. The white of the walls and floors bleeds together into one mess of blinding color. He can’t see straight now, and the lack of a grasp on reality pushes his panic further forward. 

Tears again.

A sharp collision with the wall of white over his vision.

Cold tile under his hands.

I’m not gonna make it.

All the strength leaves his body in that moment. He can’t pick himself up off the floor, if that’s even where he is, because everything is sideways and askew in his mind; he may as well be laying on the wall with gravity tumbling him from surface to surface. 

He hears a strangled sob leave his lips, but he doesn’t feel it.

In fact, he doesn’t feel anything. Even the cold has ebbed away.

The tears don’t stop. Now that he’s lying on his side, they stay out of his vision and give him the opportunity to try to discern reality from hysteria. Head against a door maybe? Curled up on the tile floor? No, not right. Curled up in a fetal position on the door that acts as the floor in Jungkook’s mind. The sound of a door sliding open brings bile to Jungkook’s throat. He wants to hurl as the reality around him distorts further.

“Oh god.” The utterance may come from his mouth, but he isn’t sure. 

No, not me. Sound of shoes against the floor. Not me. He wants to hide his face. He still doesn’t have the strength to. Something makes contact with his shoulder. A dry heave follows, and all the moisture gathered in his mouth finds a new home on the floor — or the wall, he still isn’t quite sure of his surroundings. 

“Fucking hell, Jeon.” Your voice drifts in and out of his ears, tugging at the strings of reality. “Hey, someone could come at any minute. Let’s get you up.” You touch him again, a harder grip on his shoulder, and ball the fabric of his sweatshirt into your fist. Jungkook heaves again, and bile hits the floor now. “Kid, please.” The desperation in your voice gives Jungkook the slightest bit of incentive and strength, and he stands up with your help. The floor returns to normal, walls becoming walls again in his mind, and he sees the blur of your face out the corner of his eye. As soon as you start trying to walk, however, Jungkook feels the weakness return and stumbles. You tuck one arm across his back and under his armpit, the other still gripping his sweatshirt. You don’t say anything else, not commenting on the clamminess of Jungkook’s skin or the sweat balling in the pits of his sweatshirt.

It takes quite a bit of effort on your part to drag Jungkook to his room, but he feels like he’s flying at high speeds, still queasy from throwing up moments ago. Later (when Jungkook regains a grip on reality), he’ll be grateful that Taehyung isn’t in the room now, but that bit of information doesn’t process as you’re lowering Jungkook onto his bed. You heave a deep sigh, hopping onto the bed as well and slouching against his pillows. 

And then silence.

You don’t make an effort to speak, and he’s trying to pull himself together again. After a few minutes, you resituate and kick your legs out on the bed behind Jungkook’s back. He watches you with a careful gaze, eyeing the way you pick at the white bandages over your hands. Either you’re unaware of the stare or you choose to ignore it, because you continue your ministrations without pause. 

Jungkook can’t wrap his brain around what the hell just happened to him, and the quiet gives him no release from the confusion. You don’t have answers, he knows that, but right now, that’s all he needs. That’s never happened before. Not that bad. Not so…real and vivid. The only ti— 

You’re humming.

And it’s a song only Jungkook should know, because he made it up in the entertainment room a few days ago. Somehow it grounds him, brings a sense of control and ease back to his system that he so desperately needs.

“What are you doing?” He asks. You stop humming.

“To be honest, I’m debating a nap but I’m not quite sure yet.”

“What?”

“Well, as nice as a nap would be, I think I’d much rather ask questions about why you were on the floor in the hallway crying and puking. That’s…much more intriguing, don’t you think?” You cock your head to the side, and even though a smirk doesn’t play at your lips, you bear a playful gleam in your eyes. “Don’t worry so much, kid. Your heart can’t handle that much stress in one day. I just want to make sure you aren’t gonna break down or keel over.”

“Ho…How did you — you know I was out there?”

“I could hear you sobbing from the room I was in.”

Somewhere in the haze of lying on a door, Jungkook recalls the sound of a door sliding open, one that sounded close. But he barely made it into the hallway, definitely didn’t make it past the first set of rooms, so that means —

“Hoseok’s room. It was Hoseok’s room wasn’t it?”

“Whose room? Anyways, why were you having a breakdown?”

“I-I, uh, I — well, um…” He trails off. He couldn’t tell you that even if he wanted to, because he himself has no clue where the breakdown came from or what instigated it. 

“You see, Jungkook,” you say as you sit up, folding your legs under you, “I thought I made myself clear on the first day. Don’t pry into business that doesn’t involve you. It’s not something spiteful or any intention to keep a veil over your eyes. Rather, it keeps you out of trouble. Something like the fight yesterday wouldn’t be good for you. It also prevents you from being dragged into things you don’t want to know about.”

“I’m sorry,” he responds. The heat of embarrassment creeps up his neck and ears.

“Don’t apologize. Just don’t do it again, okay? I’m not here to poke and prod you like a doctor would. That’s really not any of my business, but I do want to make sure that you don’t look weak in front of people who could use it against you.”

“What, like you?” He bites back, a huff of forced laughter following the words. You grin like a cheshire. There’s no hint of playfulness or malice behind it; rather, it is simply a smile, and it’s the first genuine one Jungkook has seen cross your lips. 

“Alright, Jeon Jungkook. Let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” He squints at you.

“I will make certain that no one breathes a word about your breakdown today, whoever may have witnessed it. I’ll also make sure that no one finds out about it. It’ll be just between the two of us. How does that sound?”

The deal is tempting, yes, but Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to trust whatever you might ask for in return. And yet…Hyewon saw Jungkook crumble. She sits with Mingyu and Yesung. If one of them were to find out, Jungkook doesn’t doubt that his life would quickly turn into a living hell.

“And in return?”

Your smile folds into a smirk, the coyness slipping in, and it sends a chill down his spine.

-

written by: jungtaeyoongles

please do not copy, repost, or otherwise steal this work

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[guccybangtan]

Blue Side- Chapter I

Hello everyone and welcome to my new story! I’m not entirely sure how long its gonna be but I hope you all like it regardless! I don't have a summary for it right now because I'm just kind of rolling with the ideas so it'll be a surprise. I was inspired by @daydream-hobii with all of her hybrid stories so go check them out~

Pairing: Hybrid! BTS x Reader, Platonic! Reader x Jackson Wang; Features: Mark Tuan, Im Jaebum, Bambam;

Word Count: 1,487

Warning: TALK OF SEXUAL ABUSE!! READ WITH CAUTION! 🚨Mentions of physical and emotional abuse;( will be updated as the story progresses)

**Links Removed** see masterlist for other chapters

Letting out a groan, Y/N sat up, smashing the snooze button on her alarm. She loved her job, she really did, but sometimes it had her working crazy hours, just like tonight. She worked with some of her best friends at a hybrid adoption center. They also were an emergency care center. Y/N always wanted to care for them, since a lot of the time they were mistreated. She still couldn’t believe that people treated them like such animals. After she managed to get up she  got dressed she made a cup of coffee to go. When she stepped out into the brisk night air, she decided to walk to the center as it was only a short distance there and she liked to walk. It didn’t bother her that it was the night, she actually quite enjoyed it.

“ Hey Y/N!” Jackson said cheerfully as she pushed the doors open.

“ Hey Jackson, how are you doin’?” She asked, still a little tired.

“ A little stressed, we got a few new patients. Mark said some won’t talk at all so I’m glad you’re here.” Mark was one of their doctors.

Y/N was good with hybrids, like strangely good. When they had hybrids that were scared,too nervous to open up, or afraid of males, she would be the one to talk to them and get treatment started. Bambam was the only other worker like Y/N that was really good with hybrids, so most of the time they did their rounds checking on everyone together. Their team was relatively small at the center but they did well.

“ Who should I check first?” She asked. She was alone tonight. Some of the hybrids would be in more distress than others, which could cause lasting damage if not dealt with immediately.

“Uh, there’s a bengal cat that keeps trying to escape the room, won’t stop hitting the glass. A red panda that won’t come out from under the bed and a wolf with some really bad lacerations.”

“Guess we’ll start with the wolf.”

After Jackson got her the mobile med kit, Y/N set out to find Jaebum. He was the one with all the keys to the rooms because he tended to make sure they were always in order. The hybrids were locked in at night for safety. Since there were so many different kinds they didn’t want any fights to break out. They were always allowed to play outside and hang out, with supervision from the daytime staff, for most of the day. After Y/N had found him and collected the key she make her way toward the wing that held all the canines and similar animals. Peeking in the window Y/N tried to make an assessment of the man without disturbing him yet. He was tall, very thin, with what looked like quite a few deep, angry, scratches down his chest and possibly down his back. He was sitting in the corner farthest from the door, all the furniture pushed to the opposite side of the room. Y/N reached for the clipboard attached to the door.

“Kim Namjoon.” She whispered

        Wolf Hybrid

        Male

        Age 23

       History of abuse

More facts were listed about him but she wasn’t too concerned with them. This was gonna be harder than she though. Taking a deep breath she knocked on the door and stuck the key in to unlock it. As soon as she pushed open the door his head snapped up, fierce eyes meeting hers. An immediate guttural growl left his throat.

“ Hey there,” Y/N began, setting the kit down as she put her arms out in front of her, “I’m just here to clean your cuts.”

“ Don’t touch me.” He stated it with so much dominance Y/N almost contemplated leaving but she knew if she didn’t clean him up an infection could be fatal.

“Sorry, I really need to clean your cuts. If you get infected nothing good will come of it.”

He sat up, looking like he was considering rushing her. She began to reach for her radio on her hip to call Jackson, raising her other hand towards the man to show she wasn’t a threat. Before she pressed the button to talk, he seemed to reconsider.

“ Make it quick.” He spoke lowley

“ I’ll be gentle…?” Even though she knew his name she wanted him to give it to her. That way they could build trust.

“Namjoon.”

“Okay, Namjoon. I’ll do my best, but I need you to take off your shirt.’’ This caused him to hesitate. All traces of the show of dominance seconds ago left his body. He looked down and began to shrink away from her. Something clicked in Y/N’s head. Maybe she was thinking of the wrong kind of abuse. She mentally cursed Jackson for not being detailed as she tried to diffuse the situation.

“ Hey, look, it’s nothing like what you’re thinking,’’ she began, moving backwards to give him some space. “ I just need to be able to see the cuts the clean them, I can call someone to get you some clean clothes for after I’m done and I’ll leave. It won’t take long, but this needs to happen. I’m sorry.’’

He looked up at her and nodded, and began to remove his shirt.

“Shit.’’ She whispered to herself as she could finally see them clearly. He looked as if he got jumped, not just a small fight. There were three large ones on his front, with some smaller ones around his neck and what looked to be a bite mark near his jugular. She grabbed her kit and began to make quick work of his front, while being as gentle as possible. She would concern herself with his back later.  Y/N was glad she had checked the clipboard, but she needed to have a serious talk with Jackson about important details.

As she cleaned him, she made mental notes to herself to see if she could get him to open up about what happened, that way they can help protect him from something like this happening again. When she was finished with his front she timidly asked if he would turn around. Again, he hesitated, but complied silently. As soon as Y/N saw his back, she quietly clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from letting out any noise; She sat up straighter and tensed uncomfortably. Not only was he covered in more cuts, he had many, many scars littering his whole back. They looked as if they were mainly from belts, like they were whipping him with the metal side, and riding crops. She worked even quicker on his back, almost unable to handle it. The poor hybrid had obviously been through a lot and she didn’t want to make him anymore uncomfortable.

Namjoon’s back had only two medium sized scratches and a few small ones but the torture that he had been through before seemed to carry the weight of a thousand worlds. She laid the last bandage and began to clean up. She quickly called Jackson on the radio and asked for some clothes for Namjoon began to bid him good night so he could change, but before she could leave he grabbed her bicep. Y/N tensed up and spun around quickly, removing his hand. He looked taken aback but spoke anyway.

“I just wanted to say thank you… most people would’ve gotten frustrated and just left, but you didn’t. Why?’’

“I know what it’s like to be abused,’’ She spoke, wrapping her arms around herself,  “not in the same way as you, but, it’s all the same anyway, isn’t it?’’

He nodded soberly and reached out for her hand. She took his and gave it a squeeze. Maybe they were more alike than they originally thought.

“What happened to you?’’ Y/N asked before she could stop herself. She immediately opened her mouth to retract her previous question but before she could he answered it.

“ I used to be apart of this group of show hybrids. They had a bunch of exotic and rare hybrids they would take to shows and banquets. There was probably eleven of us. They forced us to do tricks while at the shows and when we got home...’’ He trailed off, taking a deep breath, “ when we got home, if we messed up or didn't do something to their satisfaction,which was quite often, they would hit us, telling us they were doing it because they loved us and they wanted us to be better. They would also do things to us. Bad things. Looking back on it now, it’s not normal like they told us it was.’’

Y/N nodded as he opened up this little bit of his past. She understood. As she was about to respond Jackson burst through the door.

“We’re having a bit of a problem out here!’’

[bloodredsakura-blog]

Sanders Sides Insane Pride AU part 1

This story takes place a little after Deceit twisted Romans mind. He harmed others in the name of pride and slowly became insane from his brothers input. After some time Logan decided he was no longer safe to be around and created the mind palace insane asylum. Placed Roman in a black straitjacket. Romans eyes had heavy bags and his hair messy. A permeant twisted smile plastered on his face.  

[Roman is Locked in an empty white room. Sitting and staring at the floor. Logan and others looking threw a door at him]

Logan: This is for everyone's safety  

Patton: I know but it doesn't feel any better

Picani: We need to reverse the damage that Deceit and Remus has caused. 

Logan: You are able to do this right Dr.Picani? 

Picani: Of course. It just might take a wile. 

Patton: Thank you for coming out of the Imagination to help us.

Picani: Its no problem. I will look for my office now. 

[Picani leaves] 

Patton: Maybe we should help him out. 

Logan: we aren't as good as he is you know this, but I guess it cant hurt. I will keep an eye on his physical health. I have records from when he was before all this. 

Patton: Oh i know were those are. I will retrieve them later and give them to you. 

Logan: Thank you Patton. That will be very helpful. 

Patton: its no problem. Oh by the way... What about Virgil? He wasn't close to Roman but this has scared him a lot. 

Logan: I guess he can also see Dr.Picani if he so wishes and see what he says. 

Patton: that's a good idea I will get those files and talk to Virgil.

Logan: Okay thank you Patton.

Patton: It's no problem.

[Patton leaves and Logan sighs]

Logan: I hope Dr.Picani is truly able to do this. 

[Logan Leaves]  

[Patton leaves the asylum to find Virgil and the medical notes on Roman. He enters the Mind palaces living room and he sees Virgil curled up into a ball on the sofa his sound cancelling headphones over his ears. He tries to get Virgil's attention without scaring him. After a few attempts he manages. ]

Virgil: Oh hey Patton your back already? 

Patton:  Yea Kiddo. Logan needed Romans medical reports. I also need to talk to you.

[Patton sits on the other end of the sofa to Virgil to give him space]

Virgil: What's up? 

Patton: I know this situation with Roman isn't the best for your mental health so Logan and I thought it would be good for you if you saw Dr.Picani at some point. 

Virgil: You mean... Go to the asylum? Where Roman is.....

[Virgil's breathing starts to quicken.]

Patton: No no! Don't worry! You wont have to see him as long as you don't want to. 

[Virgil tries to breath slowly in for 4 hold for 7 out for 8 after a few attempts calms down]

Virgil: I could try...

Patton:[puts a hand on Virgil's shoulder] That's all we ask for. Now then want to help me get those records? 

Virgil: [smiles] Sure. 

[They both leave] 

[After Patton and Virgil get the records they walk back to the asylum and walk separate ways. Patton to Logan and Virgil to Dr.Picani. When Virgil gets to his office he knocks on the door.]

Picani: Come in!

Virgil: [Opens door] I was told to see you...

Picani: Logan informed me of what he and Patton spoke of. If you need me I can help. 

[Picani smiles sweetly while Virgil walks into the room] 

Picani: so what can i help you with? 

Virgil: [Sits down] well... I don't know to be honest... 

Picani: Maybe we could help you with your fear of Roman. He wont be in this state forever. So lets start slow and see what we can do. 

Virgil: Okay...

[A few days pass. Both Roman and Virgil has had a few appointments with Dr.Picani Roman seems to be getting a little better. He doesn't have a sadistic smile of his face most the time anymore. Currently Virgil is talking with Picani.]

Picani: I think its time you go some what near him now Virgil. 

Virgil: W-what? 

Picani: Ask Logan how you can help with Romans treatment. Patton has taken a role as my apprentice and keeping an eye on all the records. We have had to admit lots of patients since he became pride. 

Virgil: O-okay...

Picani: I'm proud of you Virgil. 

[Virgil leaves the room and runs to an empty one. He locks the door and slowly slides down to the floor. Tears fall down his face and he starts to have an anxiety attack. After a wile he calms down, cleans his face and walks to Logan's office. He stands there for what feels like a few minutes when he finally knocks the door.]

Logan: Come in.

Virgil: Dr.Picani told me to ask you if I could help in anyway to Romans state...

Logan: hmm.. You could deliver his meals from now on. Talk to Remy about that.

Virgil: Of course. Thank you..

Virgil walks to the cafeteria to find Remy. Once he arrives he sees him with a tray of food seemingly for Roman.

Remy: Oh hey gurl. How you doing? 

Virgil: Okay i guess.. I was told to help you with Romans food..

Remy: Oh thank God, because of all these others he's created I'm over worked! Take this I've already put in the sleep meds. 

Virgil: sleep meds?

Remy: He wont sleep other wise. Horrible nightmares. I think the Roman we all know and love will come back in no time. 

Virgil: I hope so...

Remy: Don't worry so much. He already seems to regret a lot of things he's done. He's still crazy but getting better.

[Virgil stays silent and takes the tray from Remy. He slowly makes his way to Romans room and looks threw  the door. To his surprise he's looking up. Tears in his eyes looking...Regretful. Remy warned him about this but he didn't think he would see it himself. He opens the door and Romans head quickly flicked to look at him. His face changed into a twisted smile.]

Roman: Ah~~ Virgil~ Its been a while hasn't it? How are you? I heard you are also seeing Dr.Picani. You know Patton really isn't good at being quiet. 

Virgil: It has been awhile Princy. And yes I have been. Here is your food. 

Roman: Are you gonna help me eat?~ come one my hands are tied~

Virgil: Fine... 

Virgil reluctantly helps Roman eat his food. Once he's all done Roman starts to look like he's high off drugs.

Roman: You know Storm cloud you look really cute~ come closer will you~

Virgil: No Princy. I've done my job I'm leaving. 

Roman: aww but I haven't seen you in so long~

Virgil: Maybe you should of thought of that before giving into Deceits' temptations.

[Roman looks shocked at Virgil then looks at the floor]

Roman: Get out... I'm going to sleep. 

[Virgil looks at Roman as he slowly walks over to his bed and lies down. Virgil grabs the tray and walks out the room.]

________________________________________________________________this was also posted on Wattpad and Arcive of our own. this is an au me and Randomniv (on tiktok) are working on! 

[relucant]

i am legit so terrified my mother is going to give herself a stroke before i escape in a week. and because she cares about nothing except her own anxiety and the cat, despite my begging her in literal tears to help put a plan in place for what happens to my father if that does happen, to the shock of no one, she has done zero to make that happen even a little.

i mean, the cat is sick, which obviously puts her even more on edge than always -- i love the cat more than life itself and i would take a bullet for him in an instant, but he is pretty much her therapy animal and the only thing keeping her even remotely tethered to this earth. and he’s 11, and has liver problems, so yeah. it’s scary. but like, it’s also basically textbook UTI -- which last week at the vet, even before he started feeling sick, the vet was like “i’m going to go ahead and test him for a UTI, i think it might be possible.” i hate it when people are like “oh, it’s okay, he’ll be fine!” because maybe he won’t be, and that’s terrifying, but also like... the cat’s having some intestinal ickiness and doesn’t feel good isn’t quite apocalyptic yet.

and my father is garbage to be in the same room as, absolutely, but like... there’s also ways to cope somewhat with him, and she just is in such a constant spiral of literally paralytic anxiety that she just... won’t do absolutely anything to make her life slightly less miserable even it requires changing her behavior even a tiny bit.

“he just... he just came in here earlier, and just, i had all the magazines stacked up on the chair, and he just picked them up and threw them on the bed!” okay yeah, because he’s an asshole with dementia, but like, can you tell him not to do that? “stop attacking me!”

having a full-on panic attack, sucking in breaths, finally gasping out, “he- he came in here, and he said he was going to do laundry!” while bursting into full sobbing. “he- he can’t do his laundry! he doesn’t use bleach, and he- he just throws his underwear full of shit into the laundry!” yeah dude, that’s fucking awful. but erupting in earsplitting shrieks of “NO YOU CAN’T FUCKING WASH YOUR UNDERWEAR YOU HAVE A PAIR BECAUSE I JUST FUCKING CHECKED” well, have you considered, “no, don’t, they need to be bleached, i’ll do it tomorrow.” 

obviously, “calm down” has never made any situation better in the entire history of anything, ever. and her situation sucks. mine is probably worse in the immediate, because i have two parents who don’t know or care that, like, i’m a human being and not their maid/emotional support punching bag, respectively, but i have a way out, and she doesn’t, so that’s awful. and it’s going to be awful, at least until he dies, but again, like, it doesn’t have to be absolutely, intentionally as horrifying awful as it can possibly be, because making anything a little better would require her, like, doing something.

i keep trying to get on her case about looking into, like, actually getting treatment for her crippling anxiety disorder, even though i’ve been on this futile merrygoround for at least a decade and the circle never changes, because she’s so wrapped up in her cocoon of anxiety i don’t think she wants it to change.

every single time i bring up the possibility of just talking to someone about how bad it is -- like, i dunno, her shrink to start with, who it’s a miracle i even finally got her to go to that even, and i am dubious she’ll continue after i leave, even though she likes her shrink and also her shrink will come to the house, or even just her GP, who she also likes -- she just immediately reverts into, like, “well, maybe i should just start taking my xanax every day again.” no like, dude, that’s like... not a treatment for chronic anxiety. “well it says anxiety on the bottle.” yes. for like... a plane trip.

this exact back and forth has happened probably 50+ times, and she just deletes it and reuses it over and over.

“but -- but i don’t want to quit drinking! i can’t, not right now with what’s going on!” like honestly fair enough, that train has left the station. so like... okay, don’t. if you go to a doctor who refuses to treat you unless you quit drinking, like... go to a different doctor. i asked my shrink, and she’s kinda like yeah, obviously, drinking isn’t great on psych meds, but for most anxiety meds, it mostly just decreases their effectiveness (and don’t drive, which she doesn’t anyway), not kill you, and still probably better than nothing.

and then after the xanax response, and then the drinking response, she just shuts down any further attempt at the conversation and starts crying about whatever asshole thing my father last did, which she completely did not in any way at any time ask or tell him to, like, not do that. until she’s so upset she starts banshee shrieking at him for doing a thing she never once told him not to do. (or vice versa)

and i realized the other night that what gets to me so much (among a million other things) is like... the exact shitty ways he behaviors towards her, and that she comes sobbing to me about, are like... unsettlingly similar to ways she behaviors towards me, if in different ways.

like, come into her room, sit down, talk blankly at her about stupid shit and then get annoyed when she tries to actually respond? kiiinda like every time she comes into my room, sits down, complains to me about the exact same thing she complained about last night, and then gets upset when i try to have a back and forth conversation.

“he just -- he just says the same thing, over and over! five times in the last two days if we have money for the gardener! he’s asked me twice today what the baby’s name is! he told me three times he’s going to go get the mail! it’s like talking to a r*tarded toddler!” (excuse that word, not sure how to rephrase)

yes mom, and that’s the 10th time this week you’ve said it’s like talking to a toddler, and i’ve said yes, it is like talking to a toddler, because he has dementia, he cannot form new memories, and two minutes later you just wail that it’s like talking to a toddler, again.

and the cycle continues, because i know perfectly well it’s as pointless to think there’s any chance of her making any significant changes in her behavior or grasp on her mental health, any more so than my father whose brain is nearly chewed up and spat out by now. but she’s still in there just enough that i can’t help feeling like i could almost get through to her if i could figure out how. and when she’s not near my father, like when we were up in new jersey with my brother and sister in law and baby nephew, her anxiety abated to the point that lke, yeah, she still had a meltdown when faced with like, a single step, despite being surrounded by three able-bodied adult humans, but overall, mentally, was like at like 70% a fairly normal elderly woman, kinda dotty but doting on her grandchild and puppies and basking in at least one of her children turning out with an apple pie life (about 15 years later, but still pretty perfect). and so i’m haunted by all the what-ifs, what if she can just survive until my father dies and she’ll be okay, so maybe i can still help, so maybe i should keep trying, even though i know, i know, i know.

and i try to keep in mind that it’s also easier for me because, like, my father more or less likes me, as a person -- i don’t think he’s ever loved me, or is capable of love (except for our pets, which honestly is a fairly big redeeming factor, i suppose) but he thinks i’m interesting, and my brother, and that if he was manipulated into having kids by whatever the hell he used to do, his resentment of our existence is tempered somewhat by the fact that he’s kinda pleased with how we turned out, and i have one or two pleasant memories of sitting on the trunk of his old car as a small child pointing out the pleiades, or drunkenly reciting ts eliot on the kitchen floor. my mother does not get that leeway; he thinks (or acts, at least) that since he did his duty and got married and procreated, her entire existence should be devoted to his convenience -- not even comfort, just convenience, and making herself exist as little as possible.

which plays into the cycle again because then i, unfairly, resent my mother for that more than him, because it genuinely did not occur to me even as a precocious kid that fathers were supposed to, like, love their children until i was at least in middle school if not later; it still jars me sometimes, bitterly, when i see dads who are just like in love with their kids. but my mom was my mom, so as it became clear that she never actually wanted to, like, parent anyone either, she’s the one my hurt and pissiness channels to.

anyway if anyone actually read all of this, i know i say the same shit over and over about this, but it’s so complicated not many of the few people i talk to one on one know what’s going, and i don’t want to over-vent, but i feel like i’m about to claw my skin off with the anger and frustration and regret, so thanks.

in a funny-scary sign-off, so i finally convinced my mother to get a mini-freezer so i can stock it full of real food before i bounce to eurasia next week, and it came today; instructions said to let it sit for a few hours after getting it in place before plugging it in, so i hauled it into a convenient dining room corner and forgot it. fast forward i come out to the kitchen to check on the huge vat of minestone soup i’m making and my father is lumbering triumphantly out of the kitchen pantry with a frayed probably 40 year old extension cord in his hand.

i blink at him, immediately concerned. he’s like, “i think i’ll go ahead and hook up that new... thing-a-ma-jig! ‘cause the thing on the plug, it’s got the three things [prongs], but the things in the walls, they’ve only got the two things! so i’m gonna just go ahead and plug it in here!”

i’m like, “NONONONONONONO!” because like (a) common sense and (b) the manual was specifically like do not do NOT use an extension cord, and if you MUST make ABSOLUTELY SURE it has these EXACT SPECIFICATIONS and is IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM SOME DECREPIT CORD-SNAKE YOU DUG OUT OF THE DUSTY BOWELS OF YOUR KITCHEN PANTRY (i may have exaggerated that last bit). he’s like what?? i explain that to him, in fewer words, and that i in fact have an adapter specifically to convert two-prong to three-prong.

he’s mystified, demands explanation of how that works; i try to elaborate, that i put the two prong end in the wall and plug the freezer into the three-prong end, and just blank looks. “well i don’t think that’s going to work, i think we should just use this.” i just kinda take it, tell him i’ve got it under control, ignore his aggrieved hissing, and walk away.

i go to tell my mom this, because like gallows humor or gtfo i guess -- she’s like jesus even i realize that’s not a good idea -- and only then do i realize that the extension cord he had so proudly produced was in fact a two prong... to a two prong. so either he didn’t notice that, or more likely, just intended to jam the two prongs into the extension cord and just leave the third prong kinda just... out.

and it’s sad as hell, because dude was an electrical engineer who worked at the absolute cutting-edge of the aerospace industry, like literally worked on apollo 11 at cape canaveral and dementia has eaten his brain to the point he doesn’t understand plugs. but. sometimes you take the laughs where you can get it.

anyway one week one day from right now my plane takes off so please can just like (a) my cat (b) my mother and (c) my father hang on that long (in that order) until i have enough distance to get my fucking head on straight again for a tiny little bit.

[lizbethcopes]

Missed a post, but here I am

Good morning/evening/afternoon my wonderful people!

Yesterday was pretty uneventful. I cleaned the office (mostly, I have more to do today) and began the rescue operation for a stray cat in the neighborhood who needs his tail amputated. We’re hoping to catch him in a trap tonight so we can take him to the vet on Wednesday. I’ve been very stressed about our poor little kitty but I’m hoping all turns out well and he lives through the experience. He’s a good boy, we named him Tigger.

Overall my mental health has been on the decline recently, my OCD hasn’t been as bad but my general well-being and depression seems to have gone down the shitter. Yesterday, my partner and I got into a bit of an emotional conversation and it was rough for me. Him too, but I just felt really isolated. I can feel myself getting aimless while I’m not working (waiting for my Covid test to come back negative so I can go into work again). I love my job, I don’t do much but it’s honest work and I like my coworkers. I think I over-reacted about needing a test but I have a lot of health issues and I was deadly worried about getting sick. Plus I live with my mom and my partner and I didn’t want to get them sick either, ya know?

Anyways, today I’m feeling pretty shitty. I just want to lie in bed and rest and cry but I’m gonna power through and get some more cleaning done. I think it will help me feel better. I know sometimes the accomplishment of getting something done can help me get out of this depressive funk.

I’m back to deliberating about whether or not I have OCD. It wasn’t too bad again yesterday. I think now whenever something pops up, I will repeat “This is not a reflection of who I am, this will pass, just breathe” and it is seeming to help quite a bit. The number of moments when my OCD is overwhelming has dropped to mostly when I fall asleep/am trying to fall asleep.

I had something else I was gonna write right here but now I’ve forgotten what that was. This is frustrating but maybe I’ll remember and come back and edit this post later with that update.

OH YEAH! I took one of my xanax yesterday to relax and it had no effect. I doubled my usual dosage and nada. I’m hoping this is just because my meds are old. I have a new prescription at the store that I will be going to pick up later today. I watched most of Euphoria yesterday with my friends, it was nice. Not the show, the show is terrible and sad and triggering, but spending time with my friends was nice. I don’t think I realized how badly I needed that. Maybe I should host another game night soon. We all miss those.

TW: Weight Talk

I lost more weight, the healthy way this time. I’m down to 154 from 170. 170 isn’t a lot, but I’m only 5′ 6″ and that was a lot of weight for me to gain. I only gained it because back in November 2020 I had to go to inpatient treatment and I couldn’t sleep *one* night so they gave me a full ass prescription for olanzapine. Fuck that med, fuck that med *hard*. It made me insatiably hungry at all hours of the day and I ballooned from 138 to 170. I got off the med and my sleep schedule was all fucked up for a while after that due to the effects of pulling off a literal sleep med. It was hectic, but TL;DR I am losing the weight steadily. It’s making me much more comfortable with the way I look. I don’t think I’ll ever get down to the weight I was pre-depression (about 145) because during my depression I dropped to 132. The whole thing is messy, but if I can get to 150, I’ll be happy there. I think that’s a normal weight for my age and height.

End of TW:

I’m feeling like sleeping and kinda giving up on being productive today but I’m not gonna let my depression talk for me. I’m off to start my day and attempt to begin cleaning and cooking and all that jazz. Until next time,

See ya

[writeyouin]

Hey if you have time: ReaderXChekov where reader gets injured on an away mission and has to go see McCoy but plot twist reader is afraid of doctors and tries to hide. Chekov finds reader and drags/coaxes them to med-bay and stays while they get treated and is in general a good partner and friend. Bonus points if McCoy is grumpy that they are being so affectionate while he is trying to work, but secretly is glad Chekov is there because he knows reader is scared of doctors.

Chekov X Reader – An Apple a Day

A/N – Writing for Chekov but thinking of Jaal in Mass Effect Andromeda.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

There was no doubt about it. Being a red shirt officially sucked. Sure, you’d often heard jokes about it but you’d never actually believed it. Now, you were stuck behind a rock on a desert outcrop, shielding yourself from Klingon fire while Kirk and Spock did the same a few metres away. Ideally, you could have laid covering fire down all day until Scotty beamed you back aboard the Enterprise. The planet however, ruined that plan with its highly magnetic field, meaning that because of interference with the sensors, Scotty could only beam the three of you back if you were all grouped together; that meant you had to leave the safety of cover so as not to risk Kirk or Spock’s life. It’s not that you didn’t trust Kirk and Spock to have your back but being the only security member there left you wishing you were the one protecting your team, the way it was meant to be; after all, you were the best shot of the landing party.

“I couldn’t have been more scientifically minded. Nooo, I had to decide punching things was more fun.” You grumbled silently, mentally preparing yourself for what was to come next.

At Kirk’s nod, you sprinted the daunting gap which had seemed pitifully small only a few minutes ago. Seconds before you made it to safety, you felt a stinging sensation under your ribs. You knew all too well the pain of a phaser shot and this most certainly wasn’t it. A risky glance at your attackers revealed that the Klingons were accompanied by some form of unknown animal. It was a creature the likes of which you’d never seen before, an iguana-like animal, about the size of a large German Shepard, that apparently spat some form of acid. You felt tugging on your arm and in the next instance, the three of you were back in the transporter room.

Kirk gave you a concerned once-over, his gaze lingering on your torn shirt, the bile had lightly burnt the skin underneath. You glanced down at the injury; fortunately, it wasn’t causing much pain past a light stinging.

“Spock, comments?” Kirk demanded, never looking away from you.

“The Klingons have been suspected of creating genetic hybrids for some time now, Captain. Lieutenant (L/N)’s injury appears to be the work of the first one we’ve seen; effects are unknown. It is advisable that the lieutenant is escorted to med-bay for immediate treatment and long-term observation.”

Kirk nodded at the practical analysis, meanwhile, deep-routed fear clawed at the back of your mind, making you nervous about what could come if you didn’t act fast. Hiding your reservations, you tittered a small laugh, Spock raised a curious eyebrow.

“Come on guys, a doctor for this paper cut? I’ve had worse injuries from falling over, I feel fine, really.” You grinned breezily.

“No, Lieutenant.” Kirk argued. “I want you checked over by Bones.”

You held up your hands in mock surrender. “Alright, you got it. I’ll go to med-bay right now if it puts your mind at ease. Still, I really do feel fine so it’d be a waste of your time for you to escort me when I already know the way.”

“You sure?”

“Stop fussing, will you? I’ll see you later.”

Before any more arguments could be made you ran out of the room, taking a left for the turbolift but changing direction as soon as you knew it was safe to. If you were going anywhere, it was straight to your hab-suite for a change of clothing. Once in the safety of your room, you glanced at the wound which had dried out rather quickly, you hid it with the new shirt and left quickly, heading to the one place you would fade into the background; Engineering.

“Vhat do you mean ‘not here’? Vhere else could (s)he be?” Chekov asked McCoy dubiously. He’d come to pick you up from med-bay as a surprise only to find a disgruntled McCoy arguing with Spock over the comm-link.

“I mean that (Y/N) is not in this room, nor has (s)he been here since the mandatory physical at the beginning of the year.” McCoy growled gruffly.

“But (s)he’s hurt, zhe Captain said so.”

“I’m sure (s)he is but I don’t have time to play a damned game of hide and seek on a ship this big. You want my advice? Get a tracking device. Better yet, check with Scotty, (s)he’s probably with him in engineering anyway.”

“Really?” Chekov looked hopeful.

“HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW?” McCoy burst out irritably. “You’re not gonna find anything here, go ask somebody else and stop wasting my time, I do actually have other patients, damn it.”

Chekov knew better than to provoke McCoy further, he left the doctor alone and begun his search for you, trying to reach you through your communicator every so often but receiving no reply.

You didn’t remember entering the empty storage room, in fact, you didn’t remember much at all. All you could focus on now was the debilitating effect the iguana-dog had had on you; evidently, the bile it produced was a fast acting venom with a delayed start, not an acid. Knowing what had damaged you however didn’t help, what you needed now was a cure. You were currently experiencing a wide-array of symptoms, each worse than the last. It had started with mild nausea and sweating. Then came the dimming vision. After that, your breathing had become shallow and laboured. Even if you wanted to see a doctor now, which you didn’t, it wouldn’t be possible; small movements alone caused serious pain to flare through your body, as if your skin was on fire.

The next stab of pain caused you to wonder exactly how much time had passed, it had lost its effect at some point around the dimming vision. Had it been seconds or hours? Was it even the same day or had you slipped into a different one? How long did it take for the various new symptoms to occur?

At some point during your suffering, mild delirium set in. You were stuck reliving the previous battle, except, with each rendition, there was something else out of place. In one battle, you were walking on the ocean’s waves, in another you were fighting the people you’d lost through the years. Finally, you could hear echoes of things you’d heard before while you fired your phaser at imaginary foes. One echo however, was new, something you’d never heard said before. The familiar voice resonated within your thoughts, bringing you briefly back into reality.

“Pavel.” You mumbled upon feeling his arms wrap around you, raising you into the air; it felt vaguely like flying.

“Argh, you stupid, stupid… Hang on, McCoy vill fix zhis.” Chekov stressed frantically. He couldn’t believe his eyes, your skin was almost translucent, revealing the veins and arteries underneath.

“No.” You batted his chest lightly, barely a tap. “I’m fine… don’ need him.”

Chekov wasn’t listening, he was too busy trying to keep you steady as he ran the way to med-bay.

“Don wanna hurt ‘gain.” You argued bleakly through laboured breaths.

“He’ll make you better lyublyu (love).”

“…Docs ’re dangerous.”

“Not zhis one. I promise.”

Fresh waves of pain coursed through you, you writhed against Chekov who tightened his grip on you.

The only indication that you’d reached med-bay was McCoy’s exclamation of, “Good God man.”

“Doctor.” Chekov pleaded helplessly, so sure that he was going to lose the one person he truly loved aboard the Enterprise.

“On the bed.” McCoy ordered.

“Don’t leave.” You whimpered, using your little energy to grasp Chekov’s shirt.

“I’m here lyublyu (love), don’t vorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll make my work much easier.” McCoy grumbled sarcastically, hiding his concern for you behind a disdainful tone.

Shouted words turned to fuzzy mumblings and then to nothing as your body finally gave in, though whether to exhaustion or medication, you weren’t sure. McCoy did his best to stabilise you, all the while issuing orders to Kirk and Spock through his communicator; if he was going to save your life, you’d need a different kind of help.

After hours of work, pumping you with endless hypos and chemicals, your survival became a waiting game, relying purely on the success of Kirk and Spock. Chekov stopped murmuring comforting words to you for the first time since he’d brought you in. Fresh tears fell freely from his eyes as he gripped your hand and steeled himself for the question he’d been dreading since the start.

“Vill-” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Vill (s)he make it?”

McCoy sighed, lifting an uncomfortable hand to his face. “I don’t know.”

Although he’d been prepared for the answer, Chekov shuddered queasily. What he really wanted to hear was something along the lines of, “Yeah it looks bad now but it’ll be okay.” or, “(S)he’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

It was foolish to wish for a lie but that was all he wanted to believe. Hearing the truth was acknowledging the likelihood of your death and that was something he simply couldn’t bear. After hearing that, Chekov couldn’t bring himself to ask anything else so he settled for whispering all his plans for the two of you in the future, slipping naturally into Russian as a small comfort to himself.

You struggled to open your eyes, squinting against bright light that forced you to keep them shut for a minute. You didn’t think you had ever felt worse, every muscle ached like it did after intense training, your mouth held the after-taste of vomit, and you could feel extra pain where you knew several hypos had been used; on top of all that, there was a heavy weight on your thighs and you wondered briefly if you’d been paralysed. You fought against the light again, forcing your eyes open until they adjusted. If you’d had the energy to smile, you would have, Chekov was sat on a chair next to your bed, his head was resting on your legs and his usually neat hair was ruffled all over the place.

“Glad to see you’ve joined the land of the living.” Nurse Chapel beamed at you, bringing a large glass of water with a straw in it.

“H-”

Nurse Chapel help up a hand. “No talking. I expect you to drink that first and then you’re going to let me run some tests; when I’m done, you can talk, understand?”

You bobbed you head lightly, instantly regretting the headache it brought with it.

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” She passed you the water, making sure you were taking steady sips before scanning your body and talking again. “You know, you’re lucky you got me instead of Doctor McCoy. He’s worked on you for almost 60 hours straight and let me tell you, he’s furious; still, underneath all that crabbiness lies a heart of gold, if he yells, it’s because he cares. Now tell me, do you remember what happened?”

Disjointed memories of your delirium came to you, the only true one being of the iguana-dog. You put down the now empty glass and cleared your throat, ready to test your voice. “Venom?” You croaked.

“Yes, venom that you foolishly tried to hide. Venom that we didn’t have a cure to.”

“How-”

“Spock and Kirk had to ‘liberate’ one of the creatures that did it from the Klingon camp so we could synthesize a cure; I imagine they’ll want words with you too.”

You cringed, the thought of a telling off wasn’t appealing, surely the venom had been enough of a punishment already.

“Don’t worry.” Chapel smiled. “They won’t get to my patient until you’re fully recovered.”

You silently prayed that wouldn’t be for a long time so you could put off the punishment. “What about the iguana-dog?”

“Iguana-dog? Oh, the Triffid that poisoned you?”

You raised an eyebrow at the name.

“Yes, that’s’ in the animal lab being examined, though it made quite the effort to get to you. Spock believes that the scent the other Triffid made the creature friendly towards you; it’s tried to attack everyone else on the ship you know.”

“I always did want a pet that could kill me.” You joked, lying back uncomfortably.

“Well you’ll have to talk to Kirk about that, for now rest, it’s been a long-”

Chekov stirred, mumbling a tired, “Lyublyu (love).”

Chapel sighed sympathetically, “I’ll give you two five minutes together, any more than that and I’m fetching McCoy.”

Chekov stared blearily after her before coming to his senses and turning his attention to you. “(Y/N)!” he grabbed hold of you enthusiastically, quickly letting go when you cried out in pain.

“Shit, do you need a doctor, vater, sleep, tell me and I’ll get help.” He hovered uneasily, clearly ready to run wherever you needed.

“It’s okay, jus’ need a little rest and I’ll be right as rain.”

Chekov stared wide-eyed, unsure of what to say next. He was past anger and elation; right now, he just wanted to care for you and make your recovery his number one priority.

“Thanks for staying with me.”

“Lyublyu (love), I’m never leaving.”

“Good luck with that, five minutes and Chapel gets McCoy to throw you out.”

“I’d like to see him try.”

You managed a weak laugh at Chekov’s bravado, he was swelling his chest out to look bigger. “Easy there Rambo, McCoy would wipe the floor with a toothpick like you. What’s say we leave the fighting to a pro like me?”

“Leave zhe fighting to you?” Chekov tutted. “Zhat’s vhat got us into zhis mess.”

“Alright, alright, then you think you can stay on guard duty while I sleep? Who knows what kind of experiments McCoy’s ready to try when I nod off.”

“He vould never.”

“Wanna bet? I hear he’s pretty pissed at me.”

“(Y/N) please, zhe whole ship is pretty pissed at you.”

“Oh yeah? What about you?”

“I’m zhe vorst of all, unfortunately I’m stupid enough to love you.”

You grinned and continued the conversation, quickly losing track of time. Nurse Chapel watched through the window in the adjacent room while McCoy complained at her about anything and everything he could think of concerning you. “-and on top of that Chekov’s still in there and I know he won’t (Y/N) leave to do his damned job; that’s distraction in the workplace.”

“Oh hush.” Chapel chided. “We both know you’re glad (s)he’s not alone.”

McCoy blustered. “No. I’d be glad if the idiot didn’t fear doctors, I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous in all my years.” He kept complaining while rifling through drawers, making himself look busy as Chapel listened; she shook her head and continued to observe you, letting McCoy get all his ranting out before he could get to you, though she feared you would still get an earful anyway.

[passingthru]

introduction part 1

hello tumblr. i’ve made this awkward decision to write about having bipolar disorder. Partly to de-stigmatize it, partly to get or give support to whomever passes by, and, partly because I need an outlet where I can slowly lay out all the chaos in my head and find some peace and order doing so.

I’m somewhere in Asia, and i’m closer to 40. I only started receiving treatment for bipolar disorder end of 2015, but I’ve been on and off anti-depressants since 2012. Prior to 2012, I was doing well enough. Survived a lot of things, was living independantly. Had a good enough job. Then I had a major depressive cycle that slammed me for a month or so. It was so uncharacteristic of me to simply not go to work, I just didn’t show up, I stayed in my room. I ate sparingly, I slept whenever, I lost my concept of time. I started to get afraid of people at the door, I struggled to go out and get food, and I didn’t look after myself or my pets well. No washing, no chores. At first, I was just so overwhelmed with emotions I cannot really define, but I needed to let something out. Somehow, cutting came into my head. So I did run a blade over my thigh. It was only when I saw blood welling up and out, that I felt that I could breathe. Subsequently, I did it whenever I felt panic. And then I just lost all energy. The days blurred together. I can’t remember who came to look for me first, it might have been my boss, or my siblings. Whoever it was, it was obvious to all that I simply wasn’t functioning. Hence, we sought professional help. That’s when I started getting anti-depressants, and sleeping pills. I gave up my job, and home, and moved in with my parents.

My treatment for depression was not productive. It was chaotic. I went through so many different cocktails of anti-depressants and sleeping pills over a period of 2-3 years. Sometimes I was OK, sometimes I wasn’t. I was probably, what do they call it? hypomanic, at some intervals. (I’m actually still not so sure about the distinction between hypomania and mania yet, so…) I didn’t feel like cutting when I was anxious but there was a time, I was so enraged over something, that I cut myself on my thigh through my trousers, and they were deeper and messier cuts. I just didn’t feel them, I guess. I’m not sure if this was a manic or depressive phase. My memory started to lapse. My sleep was not restful. I started to mis-manage my medications. I stole extra pills from my mom’s prescription sleeping pills. I felt so desperate, because I just wasn’t myself for so long, and I was tired. When my meds ran out, I didn’t return to see the doctor.

fast forward to 2015. My family says I was manic. I had registered a business, and was running an e-commerce shop from my bedroom. I was also freelancing doing odd jobs. They said I didn’t stop to eat, or rest. I was smoking like a chimney, and spending money I couldn’t afford to spend. I solicited funds from friends and family to try to make it all work. I got hoodwinked, and invested money and effort into a money scam. After I realised what I had lost, something peaked. Next thing I know, my brain slowed down. My body slowed down. I had to wrap a package and send it out to a customer. God, it took me about half an hour to write the address, and place the stamp. My body and brain and eyes were just not working. It was like I was a zombie. Then I stopped being aware of my surroundings and my actions. I found out later that these were signs of psychomotor retardation, probably in response to stopping my medication. This lasted for 4 months, probably because my family were split into camps about what to do with me, how to handle it, etc. Seeing that I seemed lazy or uninspired, I was booted to another country and into a rehab programme that promised to keep me active. Somehow, with all the twists and turns and decisions and arguments my family had, I ended up there. This turned out to be hell on earth.

For one thing, this facility ... I don’t think it was legit at all. It was privately run. They said it was group therapy for “troubled people” and drug addicts/sex addicts, whatever, but it was actually just a boot camp. Not therapy. We were all lumped together and drilled 24/7 like we were in the army PRISON. Strip searches were a daily affair. You’re handcuffed if you have to leave the facility to see a doctor, for example. I was handcuffed several times. You bathe in the open bathroom (there are cubicle doors but they won’t let you close them) for an allowance of 5 mins, with a bucket of water. male and female dormitories and bathrooms are separate, small blessing. Punishments included standing all day and facing the wall, or washing floors with wet rags and buckets of water. They didn’t have mops. You have to shout all day long responding to people and be shouted at yourself. kinda like shouting yes, sir! and yes, maam! all day but it was not in English. They called it shouting therapy, so that you would be able to cope with stress on the outside. You don’t have time enough to pee, so you do it at the same time while brushing your teeth. Always made to run from place to place. I think it would be hard enough on anyone really, but I really couldn’t function and couldn’t cope with all of that. I’ve been through a uniformed group bootcamp before, so i’m used to undergoing training. but this was a place where they really stripped you down of your identity. here, i was a dog.  I couldn’t sleep. Physically (yes, I’m gonna spell it all out), I couldn’t poop. I didnt have time to, and maybe I was just too stressed. I also stopped having my period. I was in full anxiety over hygiene, and all sorts of EVERYTHING. I was denied contact with my family and I lost all hope. I was supposed to be in touch with their in-house psychiatrist but it turned out to be a weekly affair in group sessions, not one-on-one. Their programme wasn’t in my language. I just had to pick up their lingua. Every time I asked for help, I got mocked first. They just kept on saying that I was trying to manipulate them. And it never solved anything. The other rehab people, called trainees, were so unnerving. they were like sheep outwardly, then secretly cussing out the rehab facilitators and programme and the people who put them in it. they kept telling me to blend in, and wait it out for 12 months. I was like, 12 months??? whaaat? I was stressed but I wasn’t the only one. the whole group got called for punishment because someone in the boy’s shower left poop on the floor during bath time. well honestly, if you don’t give us time for our daily ablutions, an accident like that will happen. honestly, they treated us like we weren’t human, always deriding us, talking down to us, removing our basic rights. Ugh! The bad memories. Suffice it to say, one day I stabbed myself repeatedly (pencil, no major damage), and was subsequently kept tied up. Why did I stab myself? I was freaking out. By that time, I just wanted to kill myself, and I was hoping the pencil would puncture something vital. there was nothing else to use. anyway they made the other girls hold me down to secure me. By day, to a chair, and by night, to the bed. The girls were told they would be punished if I hurt myself.  I was given medication. They would loosen my bonds for me to eat and pee, and untie me so I could bathe, but otherwise, I was bound. I kept fighting them. I had to. I desperately needed sleep, and i just needed to be horizontal, but they told me I didn’t deserve it. It was only when I developed a rash from the cloth ropes, that I was moved to nurse care on their psychiatric floor. the rehab programme was separate from their psychiatric floor. so i finally got to rest. I was in that facility for 2 months… when I came out, I was so glad but I was so unnerved, and I begged and I pleaded and I finally got sent back home on a plane. And I went to the government hospital here (safer, trustworthy, but wait a long time to get an appointment) and the doctor said I’ve got bipolar disorder and started treating me. Here ends part 1. Yes, it’s so dire, I know. It’s like a movie. but it’s my real life. Part 2 will be more of coming to terms with being bipolar and that’s relatively free from drama.

[chronically-angelic-transripts]

Template of Oct 5-7: More Side Effects and Frustration

So I'm just trying to sleep.

It is...

Why did I put so many things in front of my alarm clock?

It is 12:47 and I'm having a little hard time breathing.

I haven't had to use my rescue inhaler in months and I had I had just taken, about 30 minutes ago,

my maintenance inhaler, my steroid inhaler, my breathing treatment. (All names for the same thing)

And then I had to take my rescue inhaler.

I just took a second antihistamine which I wasn't planning on doing until I talk to

my allergist about all of this but I don't want to wake up like in the middle

of the night in anaphylactic shock if this is continuing to get worse.

I'm pretty sure that wouldn't happen but just like the idea of it is really scary

It's getting really hard to breathe.

I took my melatonin.

So I'm really hoping that kicks in soon so I can just go to sleep.

But yeah.

So this is gonna be fun.

Alright.

It is now the morning.

I ended up sleeping in the recliner last night just to

kind of help with the breathing issue.

But then when my siblings came through to go to school I went ahead and switched

over to my bed 'cause it's really hard to sleep sitting up for me.

Well it'd not that hard but like is really difficult to get back to sleep in the first place

when you're woken up and it's like not being my own bed didn't help.

I'm just eating my breakfast.

Waiting for my computer the finish loading up so I can do work.

That's where I'm at.

I just went back and tried to do the captions for my day in the life video I realized its

editing it was kind of horrible.

I don't know how like just because there were so

many files like it was really confusing.

Once I finished editing it like I just didn't go back.

What I had started doing with the vlog that I'm uploading today

is that I exported it and then I re-edited it just to cut out like what I

needed to cut out and for some reason there was like a giant black screen in

the middle of my two scenes 'cause I just used the... no I'm not gonna ramble on about it.

Anyway I'm gonna go ahead and I'll fix that and reupload it.

I can upload it with the captions this time.

I didn't know I missed all that stuff like some of the clips weren't even

muted I don't know maybe one of the edits...

I don't know. I don't know but it was bad

and I'm gonna fix it.

So yes.

I guess I was just in a rush.

So apparently there was,

in the middle of this day in the life video, blank screen and then a clip that

wasn't even supposed to be there I don't know how that happened.

I fixed it the video was 9 minutes long it's now only 5 minutes long.

Let's try this again shall we.

Welcome back to the darkness.

I have such a bad headache.

I really didn't want to lay down because it's only 1 o'clock my semi was getting

home around 3:30.

So I still have time to work but my head is so bad.

I can work through it almost any symptoms but a headache when a

headache gets really bad I can't do it.

I'm gonna have to take some Aleeve.

I don't like taking stuff for my pain because I feel like it could hurt my

kidneys in the future I already have enough problems but when I get to a

point where I can't work through something, I have to take something.

I'm just goig to lay down and wait for the meds to kick in a little bit more.

There's no telling if this headache is related at all to the

allergy stuff but I'm sure it's not helping. My body seems to be under

a lot of stress.

That's where I'm at.

Talk to you later.

It is now 3 p.m.

My headache still has not gone away.

It has gotten a little better so that's good.

I'm just really annoyed like

I can't...

if the allergy pill is...

If the allergy shots continue to cause this

I don't know that I'm gonna be able to continue treatment and I don't know

that if it is causing symptoms like this that it's actually even doing anything

because I would figure it it's Friday I got the shot on Monday.

I figure if it's supposed to be training my immune system to fight at all my mean system was

basically not done that yet so I don't know, again, I don't know if we're gonna

have to dilute or stop altogether or whatever. I called my allergist today.

They didn't pick up so I left a message. I'm thinking about calling them again like

right now but I think they might not be open on Fridays. I can't remember.

Yeah.

Alright.

Talk to you later.

Everybody I actually did get

the week's vlog up which I was worried about but pretty much had all

the work done on the editing.

So I just had to upload it so when I did

that when I was already up for going to the restroom and yes so that's up.

I really wanted to get the captions done today but I have a headache and my

siblings just got home and kicked me off the computer.

So yeah talk to you later.

Dinner time!

I haven't eaten anything since breakfast and I barely had

anything for breakfast.

So it's Friday. Pizza day. We have pizza pretty much

every Friday.

My mom's homemade pizza.

These are bread sticks. That's the pizza.

And in our family we like really thick crust.

This one turned out a little thin this time round but it's still good.

So question for you:

Do you like thin or thick crust pizza?

Comment.

Hello.

I am now lying down while I eat

because I'm getting really nauseous.

I'm actually getting like to the point where

it feels like I'm actually gonna throw up and if you get a lot of nausea,

you know there's a difference between just feeling nausous

and feeling like you're going to throw up.

Anyway, a lot of times whenever I feel like this,

it's because there's a lot of air in my stomach and for some reason I

just can't burp. So I'm lying down on my left side because that helps facilitate

burping and it does... I am feeling a little better but...

I haven't actually thrown up in months,

like maybe even a year.

But I still get nauseous all the time

so I still have to keep up a bucket just in case because I'd rather have one

and not need it you know what I mean.

So yeah. I might not even use this clip

but there we go.

I'm mad.

So I write captions for another vlogger here on YouTube. I had captioned five

minutes into the video but YouTube told me it saved the draft.

It did not and now I have to do all of that work all over again and I'm mad about it.

I can't do much about it.

But ranting helps a little bit and

then I can just buckle down and do it.

10 minutes down, 40 minutes to go which I

kind of split these minutes up so by the time she gets her next video up,

this should be done.

So I am editing my last vlog,

and I'm realizing something about myself.

I talk with timing like comedians do right before they get their punchline

but I don't have any punchlines so it's just weird long awkward pauses

for no reason and it's annoying me because I can hear myself doing it now

but maybe it has something to do with just like processing like letting the

other person process what I just said.

Maybe it's just lag time before my next sentence

which is interesting to think about

See I think it might just be the lag time thing but it's also like

dramatic timing I guess but there's no drama like it's just me talking to a

camera with dramatic timing for no reason.

I don't understand what's happening!

Although I do have an oatmeal cream pie.

Okay so I was planning to go to bed like right after I finished working on my

friends captions but then I got distracted by editing the stuff that I

had just found about the captions and then I decided to go ahead and start

working on the captions for my last vlog.

So it's now one in the morning but my last vlogs captions are half of the way done

So I feel accomplished.

Alright, so yeah that's where I'm at right now.

See you tomorrow slash today?

I don't know anymore.

See you in the morning.

There we go there we go I found

Afternoon lovely people.

So I had been working on the sock I was working on

and I wasn't really following a pattern because I couldn't because

this certain yarn is... I'm using a gauge that I'm not supposed to technically be

using at all with it but whatever.

I went ahead and found a pattern I had to

unravel all that work I did already and the pattern I have know is like a

very simple pattern but I'm having to multiply the number of stitches by like

1.3 to make it big enough for me personally because it's supposed to be

like a women's medium.

I am not a medium.

So yeah I'm just re-working on that now but this seems to be going a lot

faster and I'm not gonna be able to tell whether it's too big or small

until I work on it for a while and then try to slide it on but what I did it

before it seemed like it was the right size and then as I kept going it got larger.

So like I won't know until I get like way down which is really annoying but I

I found this new great app so I don't have to take notes on my freaking arm anymore.

So this is...

by the way totally unsponsored because I get like 10 views on every video who the heck would sponsor me

It's "My Row Counter"

and it's so cool.

So that's what I'm doing right now is I'm working on this

and I'm watching youtube.

I just had a My Chronic Connection meeting and

I should probably do a video all about that too but yeah I'll talk about that more later.

So because I had to unravel the thing my yarn ended up being tangled.

I had to take the whole thing out of a ball and and now looks like this

I will update later because I am going to get all of it untangled. It's going to be fine.

Right now it looks like this. So yeah.

Through the magic of video

this becomes

this *gasp*.

Good morning!

It is a little past 11:00 a.m.

I didn't end up going to sleep until like 3:30.

because my stomach was being really weird.

I actually threw up. Which was fun.

But now it's morning.

My sister brought me my donuts

because we have donuts pretty much every Saturday but

we didn't have them yesterday so we're having them today.

I'm making sure to tell you that we have them all the time because they normally don't mess with my stomach.

My stomach issues really are like whatever.

Like it doesn't matter what I eat at this point and so I may as well eat things that taste good.

Finished the cuff on my socks!

Now I'm gonna go take a shower.

It [the shower] is complete.

And now I'm gonna go watch some TV with my parents.

So yes.

So.

I love pink lemonade.

It's a problem

because I have acid reflux.

I had a jumbo mug and a half pink lemonade.

And now my stomach wants to kill me.

It comes in waves.

But uh...

Send good vibes.

So it is now actually technically Monday

cause it is one a.m.

But I never filmed an outro so.

I actually took a nap and woke up at midnight.

I went to bed at nine

and I woke up at midnight

because that's just how my life works these days.

But it's okay because I got to work a little bit.

And tomorrow's going to be really busy.

I have to go get my allergy shot and then I have a therapy appointment.

And my siblings aren't even going to school tomorrow because they have the day off.

For student teacher conferences or something?

*parent teacher confrences

I'm wearing my retainer for once.

So I sound a little weird.

So I won't be able to get as much work done as I normally get done on Mondays.

I'm hoping I'll still be able to get everything done but

it's just going to be a little bit of a time crunch.

*click*

Ow!

I just popped my ankle.

Could you hear that?

Anyway.

What am I trying to say right now?

So.

Yeah you'll see my day tomorrow on Friday actually.

I'm probably going to get the editing for this video done.

And see if I get it up tomorrow night and I'm probably gonna have to save the captions again.

And just do them like a little bit at a time.

Seems to be the way I've been doing it like...

Captions won't come out with the video but they'll be out before the next video.

It's kind of dissapointing but...

I'd rather publish something then I have that step separate but I can still work on it.

But I don't just want to like... give up on that.

Alright so you can hit any buttons,

type anything, click on any links in the description.

And yeah. That's all.