#felt mentally ill this morning here's this as a result!!

[angeban]

[scaredofmyocs]

I love it when i accidentally stay up on the night im supposed to be catching up on sleep it totallly doesnt make me feel horrible all week long

[theereina]

Bad News Pt. 1

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC "Bella"

Wordcount: +3K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, mental health mentioned (anxiety), vomit, *emotional distress*, angst, heartbreak, chronic illnesses mentioned

A/N¹: Remember, I just got back into writing. I'm open to critiques, but I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Since coming home, I had been sitting on the bedroom floor for what seemed like hours. I had done nothing since I had returned home. I had disassociated as soon as I hit the door. Today was only adding to the mess that my life had become. I received the dreaded phone call from my doctor's office early this morning. He said I would need to return immediately for surgery, a surgery that would possibly change my life forever.

My mind was all over the place, and all I wanted was Terry. My Terry. He would know how to help me get through this. I just had to explain everything to him and lay it all on the table. He deserved upfront honesty since this news would affect him, too. It would affect the life we wanted and planned to have.

I had come to the South to spend time with him because I needed to rest. Too much has happened over the last month. I had lost my job because my health was deteriorating rapidly. I was still fighting in court with my mother over the money my aunt left me. After the last storm, my apartment had a severe water leak, so I had to move in with my godmother and godsister on the West Coast. Luckily, we stayed in the same city.

When the doctor called today, I had tried my best to prepare for the news I already knew. The doctor said he found something during the original exam, leading to a biopsy, ultrasound, and MRI. The results from those were even worse.

As I was anxiously waiting, my heart was beating out of my chest again, and I could feel the growing lump in my throat. My body was getting hot, and I wasn't even remembering to breathe. I loathed this feeling. The feeling of anxiety overtaking my body without my permission. Not again. Not now. Not at the one moment where I needed to talk without panicking and rushing through my words. Of course, anxiety had to make an appearance.

I lay on my back in the middle of our bedroom floor and crossed my arms around my body as if I were hugging myself. “Breathe, Bella. Breathe,” I said inhaling and exhaling sharply. Every inhale felt like there were razor blades in my lungs. Oh, no.

I leaned on my elbows and quickly scanned the room for my purse. I needed my phone so that I could at least text Terry. I couldn't breathe right now so talking wasn't an option. The tears in my eyes were begging to be released. I held them in as best as I could. “Don't cry, Bella. Don't. Please, don't,” I said to myself holding my head back forcing the tears to retreat slightly.

My purse was behind me thrown against the master bathroom door. I turned over and crawled towards my handbag. I grabbed the strap of my crossbody and pulled it towards me. Sitting on my knees with the purse in my hands, I flipped it upside down and dumped out all of its contents. My wallet, lip gloss, compact mirror, lip liner, coins, crumpled cash, receipts from today, and phone all thudded onto the floor ahead of me.

I grabbed my phone but instantly dropped it as a sharp pain shot through my chest like lightning. The pain lasted mere seconds but was enough to break me. The tears that I was holding in were now streaming down my face. I was bawling my eyes out through ragged breaths. Fuck. I grabbed the phone from the floor and searched for Terry's number through blurred vision. I used the back of my hand to wipe my eyes. My eyes took painfully long to come back into focus enough for me to make out the letter T at the beginning of a contact. Luckily, I recently messaged him, so I clicked on the thread. I could see the heart I sent Terry earlier as the last message. I quickly tried to calm my breathing a little more and sent Terry a text. It only told him to come home ASAP.

My eyes were beginning to sting, and my sight was blurring again. I waited for at least a few minutes before looking down at the phone again. No response. I was panicking, so I sent a copy of the same text multiple times hoping to alert him to my current state of distress.

“Please, Terry. Save me. I need you,” I thought to myself. I looked up at the ceiling. I needed him to at least call me. Just a call. He would hear my voice and know. That's all I need right now. I waited and still nothing. I decided to call Terry myself. Two rings, then I was sent to voicemail. No way. He didn't just decline and ignore my call. He never does that.

I clutch my hand to my chest and breathe out through my mouth. I call him once again. Same result — voicemail. I sent another text. This one told him I was having an anxiety attack. I put the phone beside me. I repositioned myself in a hunched-over position with my forehead touching the carpet. I was praying that Terry would call.

*3 hours later

I had managed to get on the bed. I didn't even remember moving or falling asleep. I was just so out of touch with reality currently, disassociated and detached. I awoke to my entire body aching. I leaned up on the bed and slid to the bottom edge. My head was pounding, and the feeling was making me nauseous. The room seemed to be spinning. Trying to calm myself again, I sat there for a moment.

I knew I looked like shit. My phone was still on the floor. “Shit!” I yelled. I went into an instant panic. What if Terry called, and I missed it? What if he texted while I was in such a deep sleep? I slid down the edge of the bed letting my butt thud to the floor. I reached for the phone bringing it to my chest. I hoped that I hadn't missed him.

I unlocked my phone to see no missed calls and no new messages. What the fuck? That couldn't be right. I checked that I had service and hadn't accidentally turned on DND or airplane mode. Nope, I hadn't done either. This wasn't right. Terry would have at least texted me back.

I rushed to get up from the floor with the phone still in my hand. I headed out into the hall to see if Terry was inside. “Baby? Terry? Are you here?” I yelled walking into the living room. It was empty and so was the kitchen. I walked towards the large bay window in the living room and peered out. His truck wasn't there either. Where was he?

I tried to call Terry again. Now, it was going straight to voicemail. I left a brief message asking for him to come home and let him know about the panic attack. I hung up, and I sent a message again.

Now, I was starting to worry. This wasn't like him. Was he hurt? Was he in jail? Admittedly, Terry does sometimes have a bit of a temper.

Immediately, I tried calling his father. It rang and rang. He picked up and answered in his usual manner. “Jed speaking,” he said. “Hi, have you seen Terry? I've been trying to reach him for hours,” I said rushing out every word. “Whoa, slow down. I haven't talked to him since this morning, baby girl. Let me ask Linda. Linda! Linda!” he yelled away from the phone. I could hear her answer from the other room. “Ya’ talked to Terry since mornin’?!” he yelled back. I could overhear her respond “No”. “I'm sorry, baby. Neither of us have heard from him. I do know that he went downtown to see if he could get some more help for Mike,” he said. “Mike?” I asked confused. “Yeah,” he started, “Them folks decided to keep him, and Terry is supposed to be going to get him out.”

“I knew about Mike gettin’ locked up, but that's ‘bout it. Terry hasn't said much,” I said putting the pieces together. “Well, that's ‘bout all I know. If we hear from him we'll tell him to call you. M’kay?” he said. “Yes, sir,” I said before ending the call.

I was too afraid to leave the house because I wanted to be there if Terry returned. I sat down on the couch and waited in silence. I was checking my phone every minute for any new calls or messages. Nothing.

I had been waiting for at least an hour in complete silence on the couch when my phone rang. I saw Terry's name on the screen and immediately answered it. “Baby—!” I started to speak. “Bella, can you chill?” Terry barked through the other end. I paused for a second. “Terry, I was worr—,” I tried to speak again. “The hell did you call my parents for? I'm trying to figure out all this shit with Mike. Give me a fucking break. Will you?” he yelled. “I understand that now, but Terry—,” I said before hearing him hang up.

I couldn't believe it. He had yelled at me and hung up on me. What the hell? I wasn't aware of the severity or urgency of Mike's situation. It wasn't like Terry was telling me anything. This was one of the biggest issues in our relationship. Communication between us wasn't always the best or healthiest. In stressful moments, I found it hard to express myself in any capacity, and Terry barely talked at all. I just really needed to talk to him about the call I received from the doctor.

Then again, maybe I was being too overbearing. He needed to focus on Mike, right? You know what? I just needed to relax. Breathe and fucking relax. Terry just needed space. He would come home, we would talk, and everything would be fine. There was no need to make this situation worse than it was.

I waited for another hour. I was lying on the couch and cuddled under my blanket. I had started dozing off when I heard the door open. I jumped up to see Terry walking through the door. His face was filled with anger, and his nostrils were flared. He was pissed.

I sat back down. The worst thing to do was bother Terry when he was this angry. He rushed through the house and stormed to the bedroom. He didn't even acknowledge my presence or notice me sitting there. As much as I wanted to console him, I knew better. If I bothered him right now, he would retreat and leave. That was the worst possible outcome for me.

I went into the kitchen to at least try to find something to cook. I searched the fridge and found thawed steaks. I placed them on the counter beside the stove along with a bell pepper and onion. I searched the cabinets for an appropriate side and settled for boxed mac-and-cheese. I wanted to cook something soon, so we would have a reason to sit and talk.

*1 hour later

The food was done, but Terry was nowhere to be found. I sulked towards the bedroom. I knew this was going to go one of two ways. Either Terry was calmed down, or he was still a raging bull. I stood at the bedroom door. I reluctantly opened it and peered inside. “Terry,” I called out from the doorway. My voice was barely more than a whisper. “Terry,” I said a little louder. “What?!” he barked from the closet.

I jumped at the sound of his voice. He was still pissed. I lightly closed the door trying my hardest not to aggravate him any further. “Food’s ready. I made steak and—,” I said before he rushed out from the closet. “I'm not eating. I got shit to do, Bell!” he yelled walking towards his side of the bed. He leaned over and picked up his backpack and duffel bag from the floor. Panic took over my face.

“Terry, are you leaving to go somewhere?” I asked moving closer to him. “The hell does it look like? I'm leaving tonight,” he said placing clothes into the duffel. “Wait! I need to talk to you,” I said reaching for his arm. “Not now. I got to be there by Thursday afternoon to get Mike,” he said snatching his arm away from me. “Can you leave tomorrow afternoon? Anytime aft—,” I whimpered. Terry's eyes shot upward at me. “Don't fucking start. I already told you Mike was in some shit!” he snapped coming towards me. “But you never said—,” I said backing away.

This wasn't Terry. This wasn't my Terry. This wasn't the Terry who had never yelled at me, who never cursed at me, who even in my fits of anger calmed me down. Who was this?

“I get that you're upset, but I got a call from the doctor's office today. Remember, the tests they ran?” I asked trying my hardest not to cry. Tears were forming, but I refused to let them fall. I needed to stay strong. “Just stop for a second,” I said walking up to Terry and placing my hand on his chest. “What now, huh? What is it that can't possibly wait?” he asked. His face had turned into a scowl and his eyes had narrowed in annoyance. If I didn't think this man still loved me, I would label this a look of pure disgust and hate.

I was trying my hardest to just say it, but I knew it was too delicate of a matter. Terry was too far gone. This wasn't something you blurt out in a fit of rage or frustration. A panicked and rushed speech wouldn't suffice here. This was something so delicate that even the smallest detail needed to be discussed carefully. So, I decided to hold my tongue.

“Nevermind. I'm sorry. I'll talk to you la—” I said removing my hand from his chest. I could feel his heart racing. Maybe, at this moment, he needed me more than I needed him. “So, what's your plan? Are you just going to bail him out and bring him back with you?” I asked earnestly trying to find some sense of familiarity in his eyes, but I couldn't. With that, I buried every emotion I was carrying so that I could give Terry my full attention. “No, I plan on staying for a while. I got other shit to sort out besides just the shit with Mike,” he said turning away from me. “Wait, what? When will you be back?” I asked. “I don't fucking know!” he snapped again. “Terry, I'm only asking,” I said lowering my head. This conversation was quickly going downhill. “How am I supposed to tell you what I don't know, Bell? It may be a few weeks. Hell, it may be a month,” he said continuing to pack his duffel.

“Terry, I need you before then. I need you here tomorrow. The doctor's going to be calling me back. And I—,” I said twiddling my fingers. I hadn't even noticed that I was pacing on my side of the room. I stopped to look at Terry and tried to just say it. “There's something wrong, and he wants me back by—,” I said sniffling. Terry ceased his movements and looked up at me. The look on his face shook me to my core. Hate was inscribed as the only visible emotion. His eyes had darkened, his nostrils were flared, and his jaw was clenched tight enough to accentuate the veins from his temples.

“There's always something wrong with you. All the fuckin' time! It's always about you!” he yelled. His voice thundered through the room. Every word pierced my heart like a bullet. I stood frozen in shock. The man who promised to never hold my health against me had done exactly that.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through my body. There was now a sour taste in my mouth as my saliva grew thick. My hands were now shaking, and my legs felt like they would give out at any moment. I rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. I instantly felt the vomit rising from my belly. I hovered over the toilet. I spewed up nothing but bile due to having an empty stomach. The acid scorched my throat and flooded out of my nostrils. Every breath I took burned my nose and throat. This felt minuscule compared to the words Terry just said to me.

I dropped to my knees and kneeled before the toilet. The vomit wouldn't stop coming. I held myself up by placing my hands on the edge of the toilet. I was bawling silently. My chest was heaving up and down rapidly. The tears began to pour freely and landed on the toilet seat. I snatched a wad of tissue paper from the roll and wiped my face.

I tossed the tissue into the toilet and closed the lid. I flushed it and slumped back onto the side of the tub. The cold porcelain was hard and uncomfortable against my bare skin. My adrenaline was all over the place, so I pulled my knees up to my chest and dropped my head. Hanging low and uneasy, my head felt heavy against my legs.

Calm down, Bella. Calm down.

I was lost. I was hurt. I was angry. I was overwhelmed. I was exhausted. Worst of all, I felt alone. He was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Now, I felt like my life was ending here. He had crushed me without even knowing it. His face and actions showed no sliver of empathy or remorse. How would we ever come back from this? Better yet, could we?

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @slutsareteacherstoo @pocketsizedpanther @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blowmymbackout @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @insidefeelingofanadult @revealingco @keyaho @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh

A/N²: You will learn what the illness is in part 2. Stay tuned!

[ladamedusoif]

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story. 

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders. 

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being. 

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness. 

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now. 

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes. 

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did. 

Jackson stands before you. 

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey. 

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can. 

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes. 

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street. 

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.” 

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before. 

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation. 

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground. 

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him. 

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones. 

Raiders. 

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name. 

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off. 

Joel takes aim. 

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening. 

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not. 

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle. 

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground. 

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick. 

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg. 

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle. 

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being. 

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you. 

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol. 

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe. 

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours. 

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance. 

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?” 

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood. 

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch. 

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…” 

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you. 

Fuck it. 

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now. 

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night. 

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check-in - August 7th, 2023 🎀

So, it's been an emotional last two weeks. Mental illness is never a fun thing. I slipped off from taking my meds and as a result became inconsistent with my goals and daily routines. I felt powerless to myself. I stayed in bed as much as possible, cried constantly, and had no energy for even the simplest of tasks.

But, I'm feeling better, and I even accomplished some of my goals/daily habits today! I managed to begin taking my meds again, and am still in contact with my therapist. I'm bound to have rough days, rough weeks, and even rough months. I just remind myself that it's okay to feel these rough moments for what they are, but to not let it make me spiral or keep me held down. I believe in my ability to care for myself, and listen to my current needs when I am in a depressive state as I have been. There's nothing wrong with low energy days. There's nothing wrong with needing a break. There's nothing wrong with taking care of yourself. 🩷

🩷 What I Ate Today:

Breakfast - Was not feeling it today but needed to eat for my medication, so I had three hashbrown patties with some ketchup. And, of course, a cup of coffee.

Lunch - A delicious turkey and cheddar lunchable with one serving of lightly salted cashews. The lighter the lunch, the less tired I am when I get off my lunch break.

Dinner - I ordered some domino's pizza and cheesy bread because I was craving it, only ate 2 slices of both but it was sooo good and now I have leftovers!

Snacks - One cup of coffee after I got off work and a few bites of Ben and Jerry's Half Baked ice cream, which is currently my favorite ice cream.

Water ~ not enough, I made the mistake of forgetting a reusable water bottle when I went to work, so I didn't really start drinking water until like, 10am.

It's not my cleanest, healthiest, or best eating day, but I'm happy that I listened to what I wanted. Not every day will be like this, and that's okay. Moderation and balance are key <3

🩷 Workouts - Pilate Abs

Again, I love this one to start of my ab day! arts easy enough for my little plus sized self to accomplish and makes me feel proud for even attempting thus video and completing a workout!

I also love this one by Madeleine as well, her workout videos honestly just click with me and I am here for it! This one wasn't completed fully as I have a bit of trouble completing plank exercises, but as I continue to build strength and better my form, I know I'll get to a point where they will become easier

🩷 Habits I Accomplished Today -

Made my bed

Morning workout

Morning and Night Skincare

Morning guided journal

For my first day back on routine I'd say this is a win! Being able to complete any of my goals and habits for the day is definitely a good thing, and I'm proud of myself for accomplishing what I have today.

🩷 Song of the Day: Cake - ITZY

SHAKE IT SHAKE SHAKE IT SHAKE BUSS IT UP BUSS IT UP

My girl Yuna did so good in this song, and all of their outfits are cute and the energy is there and they all look so happy and this song makes me want to get up and dance. I may or may not be trying to learn Yuna's lil dance part....it's so satisfying to watch!!

That's all for today! Pretty proud of the way things have gone, and hopeful that tomorrow will also be a nice day for me. It feels good to be posting again!! I missed this <3

Til tomorrow, lovelies!!

[justwearthegoddamncardigan]

All in two days - Part 2

Read Part 1 here, full masterlist on pinned post

Newt x gender neutral!reader

Direct continuation of Part 1

Initially set in the Scorch Trials, but deviates from canon in this chapter. The end result is basically the same, but I've just taken pieces of canon and used them to fit my story

Warnings: canon-typical violence, language (normal swearing and Glader slang)

The communicator starts ringing as your finger hits the call button, and someone picks up on the fourth ring.

You lift the device to your ear. "Hello?" you say shakily.

"This is Marie, speaking from WCKD Base 7. How can I help?"

"I have-" you clear your throat. "I have information to share: the location of escaped Immunes."

There's a pause as you hear shuffling in the background, following by typing noises on a keyboard. "What are the names of the Immunes?"

"Wait," you say. "I'd like something in return."

"Of course." Marie's voice is flat. "And what would that be?" she asks.

"My sister is sick, but I don't know what the illness is. It's not the Flare though," you tell her. You think for a second, then add "I also want supplies; food and water."

"WCKD will have the resources to cure your sister's illness. And, if the information you share is valuable, we may be able to provide you with additional supplies too. WCKD is good like that."

"Right," you say, swallowing.

"The names?" she prompts.

"Oh, yes," you hesitate for a second, then list them out, your voice clear. "Winston, Frypan, Aris, Minho, Teresa, Thomas... and Newt."

Silence on the other end. Then: "Please hold on, I'm transferring you to another line."

You wait, chewing your lip nervously.

"Hello? Is it true you have the whereabouts of subjects Thomas, Teresa, and the rest of the group?" It's a male voice.

"I- yes," you confirm.

"What's your name?" asks the man.

"Y/n L/n," you tell him.

"Lovely to meet you, Y/n. I am Assistant Director Janson. The people you've named are extremely important to us. If you help us find them, you will be highly rewarded."

Shit. You remember your friends, if you can still call them that, telling you stories about this Janson guy.

"I can find them for you. The stayed at my place for a while, and left just this morning."

"Excellent," says Janson. "If you can put me on speakerphone now, I'll direct you on how to send us your location."

"Okay," you say numbly.

You follow his directions and send your location to WCKD, before ending the call.

You bow your head, unable to believe yourself for what you've done. WCKD is really coming, and they're gonna take your friends away.

You give yourself a mental shake. You only knew them two days, no matter how close you felt to them over those days. Your sister is your first priority.

Nothing else happens in that day, but the next morning, you wake to the deafening sound of rumbling engines.

You rise up off the storage room floor, where you'd fallen asleep. You swing the door open, running out to see a helicopter-y kind of thing landing, it's massive size casting a shadow over you.

A man walks off the helicopter-vehicle, followed by a small group of guards. You recognise him immediately, recalling Minho's description.

"Janson! The Ratman! He's literally a shucking rat. Little bitch," says Minho, arms waving animatedly as he speaks.

Teresa's laugh echoes through your mind, and you can perfectly picture Newt's amused grin.

You shove thoughts of them from your mind and step up to meet Janson.

"Y/n," he says, extending a hand. "Good to meet you in person."

"Janson," you shake his hand and force a smile.

"Listen, the people you've seen are very valuable to me. We're willing to treat you very generously if you deliver on our agreement."

"Thank you very much. We'd appreciate that a lot."

"Well then, let's begin." He claps his hands together.

"As a show of our faith in you, our own Berg here has a medical wing and experienced doctors to look at your sister now. Pack your belongings and prepare to leave. Do you need someone to help you get your sister out?"

"Uhh, yeah, that'd be good."

He nods. "I'll arrange that now, go pack your stuff."

You pack quickly, but as you move to leave you spy Newt's leather wristband on the table. You'd taken it off last night, weighed down by guilt as you waited for WCKD to find you.

You pick it up and look at it, thinking for a bit. You decide to fasten it to your upper arm, just above your elbow, and pull your jacket on, covering the band.

As you shift your bag onto your shoulder, a group of doctors walk in rolling a stretcher behind them, carefully moving your sister.

Then, you follow them out, turning to take one last glance at your home, and step onto the Berg.

You trail behind them as they roll your sister to the medical wing, moving her to a bed.

"Y/n," a voice greets you. You turn to see a doctor smiling kindly at you. She's tiny, about a head shorter than you, and has black hair cut into a sleek bob framing her pale face.

"Hi," you say, offering her a small smile.

"I'm Dr Liu," she says. "My team and I will be treating your sister. Don't worry, she's in good hands."

You nod, genuinely grateful.

"You've got a meeting with Director Janson right now, but I promise we'll give you an update on your sister soon," she tells you, gesturing to Janson as he appears in the doorway.

"Y/n, this way please."

You follow him to the control centre at the front of the Berg, where you can see out the windows.

"Which way are we heading?" asks Janson. "And how far do you think they'll be?"

"They left before midday yesterday, and they're travelling on foot with an injured person, so they wouldn't be that far," you explain.

"They said they were going towards the mountains, and they started in that direction when they left.” You point out a window.

"I see," says Janson. "You got that?" he speaks to the Berg pilot.

"Towards the mountains," acknowledges the pilot, and the Berg begins to lift off the ground.

You assume you're dismissed, and walk back to the medical wing to check on your sister.

When you get there, you see her hooked up to a bunch of monitors, heartrate beeping steadily and an intravenous drip in her arm administering fluids.

"How is she?" you ask worriedly.

"She'll be just fine," responds Dr Liu, pressing buttons on some machine. "The disease is actually pretty common, and would have been easily cured with medicine if you had access. Modern medicine wouldn't have let it get this bad." She gives you a sympathetic look.

"So it's not long-term or anything? You can cure it?" A spark of hope appears.

"Yes," she replies, smiling. "In fact, she should be awake in just a few days."

You release a sigh, the weight of years of worry lifting away.

You're directed to a small bedroom, complete with a simple bunk and closet of plain clothes.

You collapse into the bed and sleep the afternoon away.

When you wake, someone is knocking on your door, telling you to meet in the control centre. There's a clock in your room that tells you the time is 7:15pm.

You get up and rifle through the closet, picking out black pants and a white tee, which you pull your jacket over, giving it a tug as it snags on the leather band.

"We've located them," announces Janson as you enter. "They've sighted the Berg and are hiding now, but we're preparing a team to go down and bring them in."

You step closer to the window, looking down over what looks like an abandoned city. They're right down there, Newt and Thomas and everyone.

You whirl around to Janson. "Is there a way- Do you think I could... not be seen by them?"

Janson raises an eyebrow, but you hold his gaze. "We can arrange that," he concedes. "But listen, whatever they told you when they were staying with you, it's wrong. They paint us as the villains in their story, but all we're trying to do is save humanity from a disease."

"Right, yeah, but I just..." you trail off.

"I see. Thomas and his little group can be quite the charmers." He scoffs a little. "We can make sure they're nowhere near your room, if that's what you want. But just know that by helping us, you're on the right side of this fight, Y/n."

"Yeah, thanks," you say flatly, and you turn and leave.

You end up in the medical ward, sitting by your sister's bed. Her face is soft in her sleep, and you watch as her chest rises and falls.

"Y/n," Dr Liu steps in and you give a small wave in greeting.

She hands you a device. "Janson wanted me to give you this. They've got long range cameras on the Berg, so you can see what's happening down below."

She looks a little conflicted. "Do you want to watch?" she asks hesitantly.

You definitely do not want to watch... but the screen is right in front of you. You can't not watch. You nod and take the screen from her, already regretting doing so as it turns on.

On the device, you can see WCKD's team, holding guns. The view is zoomed out; long range cameras can probably only see to a certain distance, but you can still see the small images of your friends.

You subconsciously twist your hands in your sister's blankets as they start running. You identify Teresa by her long hair, running alongside Thomas and the rest of the group as they disappear under a building, out of the camera's view. Your heart clenches when you realise Winston isn't with them.

When they emerge back into sight, they split up, scattering in different directions. Your heart pounds as the WCKD officers give chase, hot on the heels of Minho and Frypan.

They take down Fry first with an taser shot that leaves him writhing on the ground, and you watch Minho turn to try and save him before being shot himself.

The camera moves to focus on another group as someone knocks Thomas out and corners Aris in a dead end.

You turn the screen off as the camera shifts to show Teresa trying to help Newt along, his limp worse than ever.

You set screen down and try to take deep breaths, blinking fast as your eyes start to sting.

Dr Liu sits down beside you. "I'm sorry," she says.

You don't respond for a bit, and you reach out to cover your sister's hand with your own, rubbing your thumb over her knuckles.

"I cared about them," you say. "They were my first friends in... as long as I can remember. It's just- I knew Elle wouldn't make it if I didn't get help. I had to do this for her."

"I understand," she says. "WCKD is very... There's a lot of give and take. Everyone here had to sacrifice something to receive the privileges they give us. To be a part of the team that's gonna save the world, you're gonna have to lose some things."

She leans forward, looking you in the eyes. "You're not a bad person, Y/n," she insists.

"Thanks," you say quietly. You're grateful for her words, but you still can't believe them when you just watched your friends getting hurt and captured.

"Y/n." It's Janson. You turn to look at him, and notice that he's sporting a decent bruise on his left cheekbone.

"What happened to...?" you gesture at your own face.

He rolls his eyes. "Let's just say that Thomas was definitely not happy to see me."

"Ah, I see." You contain a smirk despite the current circumstances.

"I'm going down to see them now. You wanna tag along?"

" 'course not," you say. "I thought we agreed we wouldn't let them see me."

"Yeah, but you could just sit out of sight and listen in," he offers.

You know full well that he's just messing with your head by letting you listen; just like he did when he told Dr Liu to give you the device with the cameras on the screen.

It's clear he wants you to stop believing in your friends.

Despite knowing all that, you sigh and follow him anyway.

"Stay here," he instructs when you arrive.

You stand with your back to the solid wall of the cell. Newt and the others are right behind you on the other side of it. If you walked just three steps over to where Janson is standing now, you'd be looking them straight in the face.

"Hello everyone," says Janson with a gloating grin. He really does look like a Ratman.

None of them respond, except for Minho muttering "Shuckin' slinthead."

"What was that?"

"How'd you find us, anyway?" Thomas spits out, stopping Minho from throwing out any more insults.

"Oh, we had you the whole time," says Janson. Liar. "Plus, it helped that we met someone along the way. Someone who knew you."

Shit, he's gonna bring you up.

"Y/n," Teresa breathes, realising quickly.

"That's right. After we got the information out of them, it was all too easy to find you."

"You better not have touched them," snarls Newt.

You jolt as you hear a loud noise; Newt must have slammed his arm into the bars of the cell.

Turning your head, you watch Janson lean closer to the cell, and you can picture him face to face with Newt.

You strain to hear what Janson says, but you can't make out his whispered words.

All you see is his satisfied smirk as he steps away from the cell.

You don't move as Janson strides out, instead closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the wall.

"I told you we shouldn't have left them," you can barely hear Newt's broken voice.

"They wouldn't've been any better here with us," says Thomas.

You can't stay here, listening to the way they care for you.

You move abruptly and run to a bathroom nearby. You brace your hands on the sink, staring into the mirror. That face looking back at you has betrayed your friends. They're all in there, worrying about you, when they're the ones being flown to their deaths, and you're the one that sold them to WCKD.

You focus your thoughts on Elle, alive and healing. You think about the sweet, bubbly smile that you haven't seen in years. You're doing this for that smile.

⭒----⭒

The Berg lands in a place known as the Last City, and you're moved to a tall building which is apparently WCKD's main compound.

By now, two weeks after arriving, your sister has gotten a lot better, and you've spoken to her in her bed every day since she woke up. You haven't seen Newt and the others since that day on the Berg.

Elle actually started standing and running yesterday, for the first time in years. You'd given Dr Liu an incredulous look, and watched Elle dance around the medical ward for hours.

Today, after eating lunch with Elle, you move to the labs, where scientists are working on the cure for the Flare.

You've become an apprentice of sorts, training under Dr Liu and her colleagues. You only do simple jobs like cleaning used micropipettes and beakers, but you've also been learning things from the scientists around you.

The science wing of the compound is massive, which makes sense, but it also means you get lost a lot. Today, you've probably taken about five wrong turns, and you're trying to retrace your steps when you see someone hooked up to a sinister-looking machine.

Everything goes cold as you realise. Holy shit, it's Newt. You push the door open and enter the room, and the scientists ignore you - probably because you're wearing a lab coat just like theirs.

One of them presses some sort of 'start' button, and you stand, frozen, as the heartrate monitor starts beeping faster and faster, and you watch in horror as Newt starts writhing and screaming. He's not in pain though, he's scared. You can see his face twisting in terror.

You rush out, the door swinging shut behind you, and you bend over as bile rises in your throat. Tears sting your eyes as you grab another scientist, intercepting him as he moves to enter the room.

"What's happening in there? What are they doing to him?" you demand.

The scientist's eyes flick to your badge. "This isn't your area," he says.

"What. Are. They. Doing."

"He's in a fear simulation. Fear stimulates the production of the enzyme we're trying to extract to make the cure," he tells you. "Even though this subject isn't immune, our tests have shown that he still produces the enzyme we need."

You stumble back, unable to hear any more, and leave the science wing, running out towards your room.

⭒----⭒

You gulp in deep breaths of air as you stand by your window, and you rest your forehead on the cool glass.

That's what they're doing to them. Forcing them into their worst fears and using them like they're nothing but tools.

You look out at the city below. Billboards flash with huge letters, large enough for you to read them from your room on a high floor. NOTIFY WCKD OF ANY OCCURRENCES OF THE FLARE. HIDING CRANKS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.

One particular sign catches your attention. REWARDS WILL BE GIVEN FOR INTEL ON REBEL MOVEMENTS.

A crazy thought starts to form. You clench your hands, resolve hardening as you make your decision.

You may have failed your friends, and they'd be right to hate you if they found out what you did, but maybe you can get them out. Maybe you can still save them.

⭒----⭒

That afternoon, you attend your training in the labs as usual, then dinner with Elle and bed. The next morning, you're ready to go.

"I'd like to request a meeting with Assistant Director Janson," you tell the receptionist on your floor.

Within an hour, you're knocking on the door to his office and walking in, shoes clicking on marble floors. "Ah, Y/n. It's been a while."

"It has," you agree. "I've come today to ask to be allowed out in the City."

"Really," he raises his eyebrows. "And why's that?"

"At the start of all this, you said you could reward my sister and I with a lot if I told you how to find Thomas and everyone."

"You don't think you've been given a lot already?"

"I have, and I'm very grateful," you say. "But I'd like to move my sister out of here when she's given clearance by the doctors. And, I want to go out early to scope out the City, you know, get a better feel for it before we move out."

"Will you still be working with us? Wendy says you have a lot of potential," he responds, referring to Dr Liu.

"I will, and I've seen the trains from my window. I'll make the commute in to work here from wherever my sister and I decide to live."

He hums for a bit, eyeing you from the other side of the desk.

"I'm happy to go out with guards for the first few days, if you don't trust me," you say with a casual shrug.

“That’s fine. I’ll have guards escort you just on your first trip, only so you don’t get lost.”

“Sounds good,” you say, holding in your sigh of relief.

“Before you go, there was something else I wanted to ask you about. I’m going to be visiting your friends soon. I’m sure you’ve heard by now about how they’re helping further our cause. Would you like to join me to meet them?”

His baiting style is old now. You shake your head. “No, thanks. I’m trying to move on with my life now,” you tell him.

“Right, a good choice.” He believes you. “Well then, I’ll call some guards now for today’s trip.”

⭒----⭒

Over the next few days, you wander the streets of the City alone, without the masked guards watching your every move after the first trip.

You’re trying to figure out how to communicate with the rebels.

While exploring one afternoon, you see strange marks near a sewer entrance. They look like boot marks. You grab a torch from your backpack and drop down into the sewer.

You quickly click your torch off when you see someone else’s light up ahead, but you’re too late. “Who’s there?” a male voice calls out.

Screw subterfuge and subtleness, you decide.

You click your torch back on. “My name is Y/n and I’m here to find you. I want to help you get into the City. In return, I need your help to save my friends. They’re trapped inside WCKD headquarters.”

One of the rebels scoffs at you, but the other one speaks up. “Interesting… Alright then, follow us.”

You end up being driven to the rebel base. When you arrive, the people that brought you in lead you to some sort of main office. They knock on the door, and then leave you there alone.

“Come in,” a voice sounds from inside.

You cautiously open the door and step in. The room is shrouded in darkness, but you see the silhouette of a man, with a masked guard on either side of him.

“So you think you can get us in,” says the man.

“That’s right,” you say, and you quickly outline your plan for him. “Do you think that could work?”

“Interesting,” he muses. “And all you need in return is…”

“My friends. Newt, Thomas, Minho- WCKD has six of my friends in their compound. I need at least one person to help me get them out.”

“Wait,” one of the guards interrupts, stepping forward. The man, Lawrence, gives a warning growl. Like, he actually growls.

The guard speaks anyway. “What are the names of your friends? All of them?”

You list out all your friends’ names.

“Impossible,” whispers the guard.

“What?” you ask.

“I was in the Maze with them, I’m Gally.” He lifts the mask off his face.

“You knew them? Holy fuck.”

Gally turns to Lawrence. “I’ll go with Y/n on their mission. You and the rest of the group can enact the second stage of their plan.”

“Well,” Lawrence drags out the word. “Alright then. Get things ready on your end,” he says to you. “We’ll prepare for your plan. Gally, get them a communicator. Y/n, call us when you’re ready.”

You nod, and take the communicator from Gally, who leads you out of the room.

“You really know Thomas and Minho and everyone?” he asks, expression unreadable.

“I do,” you say. “How come you weren’t with them?”

He sighs. “Here, I’ll drive you back, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Over the drive, Gally summarises everything, including how he was possessed or stung or something, killed a boy, almost got killed by Minho, and then found by the rebels.

“Jeez,” you say when he’s finished. “That all sounds insane.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So what’s your story?”

You hesitate for a bit. “It’s actually my fault that they’re with WCKD,” you admit, and then you explain all of it.

Gally is surprisingly understanding, given that you gave up his friends to WCKD.

“I’m not gonna tell you you did a good thing,” he says bluntly. “But I can see why you did it. Your sister and everything, it makes sense. There wasn’t another way.”

“Thank you,” you say as he drops you off at the sewers. “I’ll call you guys to get the plan moving.”

You wave as he departs, and you start the walk back to the compound.

⭒----⭒

You take an elevator up to the science wing, wanting to get some study in before going to bed.

You’re making your way to your usual room when you hear a commotion down a hallway. You walk faster as you follow the noise.

“Stop! Just leave him alone!” You freeze as you turn and hear Thomas’ voice. “Haven’t you put us through enough?”

You step closer. If you turned the corner, you’d be in the same corridor as them.

“Fine, take them back.” You hear Janson’s commanding tone. “But you’re next tomorrow, Thomas.”

Footsteps start moving towards you. Shit, shit, fuck. Where can you go? You’re turning to the elevators when Janson rounds the corner... And Aris and Thomas are right behind him.

"...Y/n?" Fuck.

Hi everyone, thanks for reading!

I had a little trouble with this chapter cause it got way too long, and I kept trying to pace it faster so I could finish up the story in 2 chapters, so it's a little messy.

But, I've ended up splitting this chapter into 2 separate parts, and so this story's probably gonna end up with 3-4 chapters total.

Unfortunately this chapter was a lot of filler and background/set up - sorry about that, but I promise the payoff will be worth it in the end

Part 3 will be up soon since it's basically already been written, I just decided to cut it out of this chapter

@regulus-black-223048 ❤

If anyone wants to be tagged for next chapter just lmk

[crazy-dog-lady-81]

Unconventional Conventions

Chapter 20

Finding a good family law attorney took longer than they would have expected. Kai being Kai, they had wanted to be thorough and to hire the very best attorney that they could afford. Together, they had spent many hours viewing websites, bar associations, and other referral networks. This research had resulted in a long list of possible candidates. They had then worked their way through the list, reducing it to a more manageable number. After a day of phone calls, during which Kai and Amelia had effectively interviewed each attorney, they had finally settled on one that they both felt was the right choice.

Begging another morning off work, they now sat in the office of James Lambert. He had listened to their story while taking copious volumes of notes. After they finished giving him the key details, James took a few minutes to review his notes before telling them that he could help Amelia to retain custody of Scout. The case would hinge on a few points. It was a fact that Amelia had always been a good mother to her son. He never wanted for anything and had never been subjected to any abuse or neglect. That Kai was non-binary was not something that he saw being an obstacle to the success of the case. He said that it was more important that they were a stable and positive figure in Scout’s life, which he argued was evident in the fact that they had just moved to Seattle and purchased a house.

“About Dr. Lincoln’s mental health status, I feel that we should go ahead and request a psychiatric review. If there are problems, we need to know about them so that we can build the strongest argument possible for your retention of custody”, the lawyer said.

“Okay, we agree with that. My uncle is a psychiatrist, and he gave us a recommendation for an expert in the field here in Seattle. Dr. Patrick Kelly. Can you request that he conduct the assessment on Link?” Kai enquired.

“Sure, no problem. I will get that arranged as a matter of priority”, James replied. “Good choice of clinician, by the way. Pat’s a good man and an excellent doctor. He’ll be fair and unbiased in his assessment.”

“Good”, Amelia said. “It might work in our favour to have Link be diagnosed with mental illness but it’s not something that we are wishing on him. Not at all. He’s always been such a decent man and a great father. Scout needs his dad to be well and happy. I need that too. You understand?”

James nodded. “You know, it’s refreshing to meet someone with your attitude. All too often I meet people who want to tear their ex-partners apart and who would go to any lengths to achieve this goal. The children involved in these cases become emotional footballs, used to score points against the other parent. It’s very damaging, especially to the kids.”

“That’s a situation that we don’t wish to find ourselves in, Mr. Lambert. It wouldn’t be fair on anyone of us. However, while we hold this view, we also feel that while we await the results of Link’s psychiatric evaluation, he shouldn’t have access to Scout” Kai added.

“I hear you. You need to know that it’s not quite as simple as saying that Link cannot see his child. In order to withhold custody from him, we’ll need to make an application in family court. A judge will need to hear the arguments before they revoke Dr. Lincoln’s parental rights, even if it is only on a temporary basis”, James explained. “In the meantime, you do need to stick to your current custody agreement. It isn’t legal to deny him access without a court order. Also, doing so would probably be very detrimental to your case”.

With decisions made about what the lawyer would do next on their behalf, the couple felt better. It was somewhat of a relief that they had gotten the ball rolling and thus were closer to a resolution. They knew that the road ahead would be rocky and difficult and that they risked destroying their relationship with Link beyond repair. Amelia, in particular, felt bad about that fact but at the same time knew that she couldn’t just let this happen. She had to fight for her son and for her unconventional new little family.

After the consult, they both have to go back to work. Before returning to their individual duties, they take some time to drop by the day care centre to see Scout. He’s sitting with a small group of toddlers who are sitting down listening to the child care worker reading them a story. It’s about dinosaurs and the little boy is hanging on every word, his mouth slightly agape with wonder.

Content to know that he was safe and well, the couple decide against disturbing him. They share a hug and a chaste kiss. They agreed that Kai would pick Scout up that evening before meeting his mom in the lobby to share the journey home.

Amelia took the elevator to the neuro ward to check in on her patients. Stopping at the nurses station to grab a tablet, she clicks into the relevant medical files. She’s pleased to see that all of her patients appear to be doing well. There doesn’t appear to have been any serious complications or deteriorations in any of their conditions. On auto pilot, she allow muscle memory to take her down the corridor to see her first patient.

Ninety minutes later, she has completed her rounds and with her notes all updated, she returns the tablet to it’s slot at the nurses station. She decided to make her way down to the operating theatres to see what’s happening there. On route, she is joined by Maggie. Her sister is just as bright and shiny as always. Amelia smiles, revealing her dimples, as Maggie babbles excitedly about the maze surgery she had just completed. The surgery involved the creation of a pattern of scar tissue within the upper chambers of the heart to redirect electrical signals along a controlled path to the lower heart chambers. The surgery blocks the stray electrical signals that cause atrial fibrillation, the common of heart arrhythmias. It had been a while since Maggie had performed this operation and she delighted that it had gone smoothly.

Amelia could understand her sister’s excitement. All surgeons loved being able to “fix” their patients, using their wits and their hands to do so. It was a job that required nerves of steel and the ability to resolve problems quickly and efficiently. For Amelia, it was life. She couldn’t cut, her life wouldn’t be nearly as fulfilling as it was. She couldn’t see herself being happy doing any other work.

Her happy thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sneakered feet squeaking on the linoleum floor behind her. “Amelia. Hey, Amelia”, she heard. She turned to find Link jogging up to meet her. He was smiling as he fell into step beside her.

“Hi Link. How are you?” she asked politely.

“I’m great. You look lovely today. Red suits you”, he said, alluding to the red blouse that she was wearing beneath her white coat. “Then again, you look great in everything that you wear.”

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up in a way that would have be comical if it weren’t for the situation she knew existed between Link and Amelia. Their relationship was over and had been for quite sometime now. And yet, here Link was hitting on her sister.

“Do you have plans for dinner this evening? I would love to take you out if you are free. It’d be just like old times. No pressure. I just thought that it would be nice to reconnect is all”.

Amelia was lost for words. She looked to Maggie for confirmation that her ears hadn’t deceived her. Her hopes were dashed by Maggie’s look of utter disbelief. She cleared her throat, buying herself a few extra seconds to gather her thoughts before she made any reply.

“Thank you for the invitation. While I am flattered, I can’t accept it. It wouldn’t be fair to you, Link. Not when it might leave you feeling confused about our relationship and where we stand with each other. Besides, Kai and I have plans this evening with Scout.”

At the mention of Kai, Link’s face clouded and darkened ominously. “Kai. They she goes again ruining everything. She’s turning you against me, trying to take you and Scout away from me. I won’t let that happen Amelia.” His voice was rising as he spoke and he shouted her name loudly, causing other people around them to turn towards the source of the sudden commotion.

“Lower your voice, Link. People are looking.”

“Let them look. They need to see, to hear the truth. Kai is plotting against us Amelia. Worming her way into your life, pushing me out so that she can steal my family.”

Maggie raised her hands in a motion that asked him to stop and to calm down. “Link, stop. This isn’t the time or the place. Also, what you are saying simply isn’t true.”

Link was crimson with frustration. He could understand why Amelia couldn’t see what was obvious to him. If he could make her see and understand she’d come back to him. If Kai would stop spoiling everything, they could get back on track. Kai, it was all her fault.

Meredith came dashing around the corner. She had heard Link shouting from the other end of the floor and had ran to find out what was going on. Seeing Link standing over Amelia, face red and fists clenched, she immediately stepped in between the two, fearing that he was about to hit the neurosurgeon.

“Dr. Lincoln. What is going on here? Why are you shouting?” she demanded.

“I was trying to explain to Amelia that Kai is trying to destroy our relationship and steal Scout. She doesn’t believe me.”

“Maggie, you need to take a break before your next surgery so go. I will get your version of events later. You two, my office. Now!” Her tone was firm and did not leave room to say no. So, they went with her like school kids going to the principal’s office.

When Meredith understood what had happened, she looked towards Link with concern. “Link, I am worried about you. This is really out of character. I feel that I have no choice but to put you on paid leave. Take a few weeks, get some rest and we’ll review the situation in two weeks’ time.”

His shoulders were slumped, and he looked broken as he left the room. Amelia felt for him, but she knew that Meredith had done the right thing in giving him some time off. He clearly was not in his right mind and, as such, could pose a risk to his patients.

“He needs a psych review”, Meredith said.

“He’ll be having one soon”. Amelia filled Meredith in on the meeting with the attorney and about the plan to request a psych evaluation.

“It’s all such a mess. How did this happen?”

Before the blonde doctor could reply, there was a knock on the door. The door opened and Kai entered the room. “Maggie called the lab to let me know what had happened. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just frustrated that this is happening.”

Kai slipped a long, slender arm around her waist and pulled her to their side. She couldn’t deny that their touch felt calm and grounding. She wasn’t frightened by Link’s outburst, but she was thrown by the events. They had been as bizarre as they had been unexpected.

“Take a long lunch. You don’t have surgeries scheduled and the lab will survive without you for a while, Kai. Look after my sister for me, will you?”

Kai nodded and guided their girlfriend from the room gently. They didn’t speak until they were seated in a quiet booth in Joe’s. Over coffee and fries, Amelia told Kai about how Link had ranted and raved about them. Kai wasn’t fazed but said that the psych review couldn’t happen soon enough.

“I can handle myself, Amelia. Link doesn’t scare me. It’s you and Scout that I’m worried about. If anything were to happen to you two, I don’t know what I’d do. You are my whole world.”

“I love you, Bartley. I love how you want to protect and defend you. It’s nice, special. I will call the attorney this afternoon and tell him to push the evaluation as soon as he can.”

Her fingers reached out for theirs and when they found their target, they intertwined. Her engagement ring sparkled, and she smiled. “It will be okay. With things this bad, I figure that they can only get better”.

[priestoctober99]

Pumpkins didn’t stand a chance.

I haven’t been posting here daily like I thought I was and that’s okay! I don’t know why originally I thought I could do daily! Sometimes I can! Sometimes I can’t. All in all, I’m here when I’m here right? This is MY blog, I can use it how I want. ( Easier said than done huh? )

If I can be completely honest, these last two years have been hard for me but this year has been REALLY hard. Nobody tells you how difficult the first 6 months of therapy even is. Nobody tells you how hard it is re-wiring your brain to be a better person for yourself and those around you. Nobody talks about how it feels like you’re going to go insane or how often you have mental breakdowns when you’re healing for the first time in 24 years. Nobody talks about how it’s easier to become overstimulated and how easy it is to bed rot all day and not want to do things you really enjoy anymore. I’m in the trenches right now as she calls it. But it’s also good to have support.

The photo above isn’t mine. But I did it yesterday. I impulse bought a bat as a results of a mental breakdown and went to target, bought some pumpkins and smashed them into a million pieces over a heartbreak. With a person? No. With a birthday wish? Yes. I smashed those pumpkins as hard as I could and it felt nice. I learn now that baseball bats are my weapon of choice. I wasn’t alone. I was looked in the eyes and told what I’ve been wanting to hear from my parents for so long….that I’m doing enough, and that everything will be okay. My parents never told me this, but she did. Moments like those are so warm and so special, moments I can just rest in the fall quiet.

Ive been having issues with sleeping, and sticking to plans and hobbies but I know this will pass. I’m also doing good things! I drink spearmint tea now, I stretch every morning before I go to work, I drink a tumbler full of water everyday and I try to stick to a list of good habits. I’m learning to believe and repeat affirmations to myself but sometimes when you tell yourself it’s hard to believe. Even when I hear them from someone else it’s hard to believe. I hate those moments in the night when I wake up and can’t sleep because my mind is racing, stressing, pacing about what I have to do, or how I said something a certain way the day before and how I could’ve said it differently. Or dream about who I wanna be and how I can see them, feel them, but don’t know how exactly to get to them.

This post is really long but I needed to get all of this off of my chest. I’m realizing my relationship with the sea is romantic, and when I can’t see it I get very upset, emotionally ill and feel the pain in my chest from heartbreak. I’m learning how long it takes me to process things and how my sadness can turn to anger but it has to be dealt with in a way that’s healthy.

My birthday is tomorrow, but I don’t want to celebrate. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t celebrated enough as a child, or maybe I’d prefer something quiet and small.

All I know is to stop fighting insomnia and do what I can for now.

I’m interested in learning music production. I’m going to practice drumming this week. I’m taking it day by day. And so should you.

[fujupro]

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It wasn’t until a close friend introduced me to Moringa Magic that things turned around for me.

Here’s my story.

The Life-Changing Discovery of Moringa Magic

A few months ago, I was at a low point, both mentally and physically. My energy levels were at an all-time low, I had trouble focusing at work, and my skin was dull and dry. 

It seemed like nothing was working for me, and I was seriously considering giving up my fitness goals altogether. But then, I stumbled upon Moringa Magic supplements after hearing a friend rave about them.

Out of curiosity (and desperation!), I decided to give it a try. Within just a couple of weeks, I started noticing subtle changes. 

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[gabby-i-guess]

how can I tell if I have ADHD?

Hey tumblr friend!

Obligatory disclaimer: I'm not a psychiatrist, so take my thoughts with a pinch of salt. But! I have ADHD, I have learned a lot about neurodiversity, and I (almost) have a degree in health promotion. So my thoughts aren't total bullshit either lol

This is a long one, so if you're going to skip through it I understand, but at least read the last 2 paragraphs. That's the most important bit x

I think the biggest red flag for me was never feeling quite right. It didn't matter my friend group, didn't matter my school, didn't matter how hard I tried or how good my grades were - I always felt like a puzzle piece that fit just well enough to finish the puzzle but just badly enough to feel perpetually uncomfortable. And this didn't go away over time - I got more comfortable in myself, but never felt like the world quite had a place for me.

Although I didn't realise it at the time, another big red flag was that all of my best friends and all 3 of my high school boyfriends had ADHD. If you take a look around you at all of the people you connect with and they mostly have ADHD/autism, you probably do too.

And then of course there are the actual individual symptoms. Here's a rundown of what I experienced:

Mental illness, especially early in life and/or triggered by nothing in particular

Dissociation, which in my case hid lots of my sensory issues

Intense interest in hobbies for a relatively short period of time, between a week and a few months, then completely forgetting about them

Tiredness, ALWAYS, regardless of how much I slept

Trouble sleeping (including poor sleep quality)

Easily distracted from most tasks

Impossible to distract from very specific tasks

Forgetful, except for randomly specific things (e.g. song lyrics were seered into my brain word for word, but I forgot my sports uniform more times than I'd care to admit)

Perpetually disorganised

Or extremely organised for a short period of time, then somehow managed to disorganise myself again

Always late, no matter how hard I tried

Trouble with food (over eating, comfort eating, body image issues)

Easily made superficial friendships, struggled to make deep, long-lasting connections

Always labelled gifted but always told I wasn't reaching my potential

Very creative and imaginative

Very emotional, tending towards big mood swings (in fact, one psych thought I might be bipolar. Nah bro, just the ADHD :) )

Intense but unstable friendships (that is one of the symptoms that can look like BPD)

Weirdly specific habits/rituals/routines, with irritation but not distress if they were disrupted (for example, I always drank a specific bottle full of water with berocca every morning for 6 months. If I didn't have the bottle on hand, it was annoying, but I wouldn't get upset. Having said that, it did mean that I would forget to drink water all day and become very dehydrated)

Becoming bored/depressed every 6-12 months if nothing major in my life changed. This could be fixed by moving my furniture around. Or moving country. Or breaking up with my boyfriend. Or dyeing my hair. These were all pretty much the same to me

Executive dysfunction - as in, wanting to do something really, really bad but your brain just not letting you

Obsessive skin picking that frequently resulted in open, bleeding wounds

Feeling like I never had my shit together, right from age 12

Teachers noticed a lot of these too. My school reports are littered with evidence of my ADHD, starting from literally age 3... and yet no one ever picked up on it. Here are some examples:

"Gabby is a very bright girl, but needs to work on her organisation skills."

"Gabby has lots of friends, but needs to find better times to socialise."

"Gabby has a strong sense of right and wrong, and is frequently correcting her classmates."

"Although Gabby is sitting on a B in my class currently, if she paid a little more attention in class, she could easily be getting an A."

"Gabby's work is always thoughtful and interesting, but would often benefit from a final proofread before submission."

"Gabby often makes careless mistakes in her work, which brings her marks down."

All of this might not help you. After all, every person with ADHD looks a little different. But there is one thing I, a diagnosed ADHDer, can tell you that will help: you are welcome in ADHD spaces. Self-diagnosis is not ideal. But diagnosis is often a privilege, and not accessible to many people. Don't let anyone make you feel excluded because you don't have a diagnosis. If you find it helpful to consider yourself an ADHDer, to look for resources for ADHDers, to use tips and tricks for ADHDers, then it doesn't actually matter whether you're diagnosed or not. You're not faking - you're making do with what you have.

Sending you lots of love and strength Tumblr friend - all the best in your journey, wherever it takes you ❤️

[pure-welness-max]

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[smallnetbusiness]

How doxycycline ruined my life?

A popular antibiotic used to treat a variety of bacterial illnesses is doxycycline. But it does have adverse effects, much as many medications. Who would have anticipated that it would send me into such a chaotic cycle, though?  The tetracycline class of antibiotics includes doxycycline. It is often recommended by doctors and is a flexible drug that works for a variety of ailments, from cholera and Lyme disease to more serious ones like acne and urinary tract infections. It works by preventing the bacteria's ability to synthesize proteins, which prevents the development and multiplication of the bacteria. How doxycycline ruined my life? But just because it's used often doesn't imply everyone should use it. It affects each person's body differently, just like any medicine. While many people find relief without any problems, others like myself experience a maze of adverse effects. This emphasizes how important it is to comprehend drugs and more importantly to pay attention to our bodies. Because a one-size-fits-all approach to treatment sometimes leads to unanticipated results. Like any drug, doxycycline may affect people differently, and the way it affects one person's life might differ greatly from another's. Even while it is often recommended for bacterial infections and is generally well tolerated, some people—including you—have experienced unfavorable experiences and side effects. The range of reactions to doxycycline highlights how intricate the human body is and how customized medical care is required. Doxycycline may cause a variety of adverse effects in some people, including gastrointestinal problems, photosensitivity of the skin, and in rare instances, more serious responses. These side effects may be very detrimental to one's mental and emotional health in addition to being physically draining. In order to guarantee that any concerns are swiftly addressed, it is essential that patients and healthcare professionals be watchful and engage in open communication about possible side effects. This emphasizes how crucial it is to provide informed consent and have a sophisticated grasp of medications. When writing prescriptions, medical providers have to consider each patient's unique medical history, allergies, and sensitivities. In turn, patients need to take an active role in choosing their medical care, reporting any strange symptoms and collaborating with their doctors to choose the best course of action. Positive health results in a medical setting where one size does not fit all are contingent upon individualized treatment and transparent communication. My First Doxycycline Experience I felt like a godsend when I first began taking the medication. My symptoms drastically eased, but the happiness was fleeting. maybe the quiet before the storm? I saw a resurgence of energy and confidence in the first few weeks. The ongoing health problems that had plagued me seemed to be fading. The noticeable benefits were seen by friends and family, and life started to take on a happier tint. Lethargy in the morning, sporadic aches, and frequent aches that had been a normal part of my day were abruptly gone. I felt as if I had been given a second chance at life, and I was anxious to seize it. However, the original glow started to fade as days evolved into weeks. At first, changes were subtle—a stomach ache here, an unexpected headache there. I made an effort to brush them off as minor adaptations in the hopes that they would go away as my body adjusted to the drug. But somewhere in the recesses of my mind, a small voice began to raise some doubts. I had no idea that this was just the beginning of a much longer and more complicated tale that Doxycycline had in store for me. The Silent Struggles, its Effects Despite its effectiveness, doxycycline may cause nausea, vomiting, and even photosensitivity in some people. However, are they the only problems? For me, no. Beyond the doxycycline adverse effects that are often documented, people may have quiet challenges in addition to physical symptoms. The effects on one's mental and emotional state of mind may be just as severe as the unpleasant side effects, such as nausea, vomiting, and photosensitivity. Because of the ongoing pain and disturbance these side effects create, there may be a decline in general quality of life, which might impact everyday activities and could result in feelings of powerlessness and frustration. Furthermore, the quiet battles might show themselves in ways that are not immediately apparent. For example, digestive system disturbances may affect the amount and absorption of nutrients, which may result in deficiencies that exacerbate existing health problems. Furthermore, less outside activities may result from the increased sensitivity to sunshine, which might negatively impact social connections and lower overall life satisfaction. These less well-known side effects emphasize how important it is to have a thorough grasp of how drugs affect people in ways that go beyond their direct physiological effects. Healthcare professionals need to be aware of their patients' overall health and take into account the wider consequences of side effects from medications. Patients should also openly discuss any emotional or psychological difficulties they may be having while receiving therapy. A more complex and individualized approach to healthcare that takes into account not only the current symptoms but also the larger picture of the patient's life might result from this two-way conversation. A holistic approach that takes into account one's physical and emotional well-being is crucial for navigating the intricacies of medicine and getting the best possible health results. My Conflict with the Side Effects of Doxycycline The response from my body was nothing less than a nightmare. Along with the physical symptoms, my emotional and mental health also progressively deteriorated. Emotionally, I was always uncomfortable and anxious about my body's next move, which made me feel anxious all the time. Not only did the ongoing sickness and upset stomach affect my physical well-being, but they also made me feel lethargic and less hungry. My emotional resilience was weakened by the confluence of these elements, which made it difficult for me to have an optimistic view of the healing process. Concentration and cognitive function were negatively impacted by the mental fog that resulted from the medication's cumulative adverse effects. Routine tasks were difficult, which increased the sensation of helplessness and irritation. My general well-being was obscured by the perfect storm of physical pain and cognitive pressure. The significance of a holistic approach to healthcare that takes into account the interrelated aspects of an individual's well-being was highlighted by this experience, which also highlighted the complex interactions between physical health and mental and emotional resilience. Maintaining open lines of contact with healthcare practitioners is critical for managing issues arising from side effects of medications. It makes it possible to work together to discover substitutes or changes to the treatment plan, guaranteeing that the total effect on the life of the patient is kept to a minimum. This personal story shed light on the complex dance that occurs between the body and the drugs it takes, emphasizing the necessity for a personalized and sophisticated approach to healthcare. The Effect on Mental Health It seems like you're confined to a room with no doors. It was debilitating to be filled with fear and grief all the time. Why wasn't I forewarned about this? Was I alone in this? Asking questions, expressing worries, and getting second perspectives are all acceptable. My first step towards rehabilitation was speaking out. It's a difficult, protracted journey. Nevertheless, each journey begins with a single step. Will you take mine, I did. Although doxycycline briefly stopped my life in its tracks, it also helped me develop my resilience. The comebacks are what matters, not the failures. Why is Doxycycline so well-liked? For a number of reasons, doxycycline is highly valued and often recommended, which adds to its appeal as an antibiotic. Its broad-spectrum efficacy against a variety of bacterial illnesses is one important component. Doxycycline is an antibiotic that works against both gram-positive and gram-negative bacteria since it belongs to the tetracycline family. Because of its adaptability, healthcare professionals often turn to it for bacterial infections ranging from skin disorders to respiratory and urinary tract infections. The easy-to-follow dosage regimen of doxycycline is another factor in its appeal. Because it is usually used once or twice a day, following the recommended regimen is much easy. This simplicity improves patient compliance and the treatment's overall efficacy, particularly for those who may struggle with more frequent dose regimens. Moreover, a lot of folks often handle doxycycline well. Like any medicine, it might have side effects, although they are usually less frequent and less severe than with certain other antibiotics. Its widely acknowledged status as a dependable and bearable therapeutic choice is partly due to its comparatively good side effect profile. Several important reasons that contribute to doxycycline's popularity include: Broad-spectrum antibiotic: Doxycycline is a broad-spectrum antibiotic, which means it works well against many different types of bacteria. This makes it a flexible option for doctors treating illnesses for which there is no obvious cause or who are awaiting the results of laboratory tests. Treatment Versatility: Doxycycline is used to treat a variety of ailments in addition to its ability to be broad-spectrum. Its uses are many and range from treating acne and rosacea to treating more severe illnesses including Lyme disease, respiratory tract infections, and even malaria prophylaxis. Cost-effectiveness: Doxycycline is often more economical than certain other antibiotics, making it a preferred option for both patients and healthcare professionals, particularly in environments with constrained resources. Convenient Dosing: Depending on the illness being treated, Doxycycline often may be given once or twice a day, unlike certain antibiotics that call for many doses throughout the day. It could increase patient compliance. Favorable Pharmacokinetics: Doxycycline has a long half-life, meaning it stays in the body for a longer period and requires fewer doses to be effective. Additionally, it successfully penetrates the tissue, which makes it useful against infections in many sections of the body. Antibiotic resistance is a problem for all antibiotics, however, Doxycycline has demonstrated, when administered properly, a substantially slower rate of resistance development than certain other antibiotics. However, Doxycycline has disadvantages just like any other drug. Physicians and patients must balance the advantages and dangers of a medicine's use due to the possibility of side effects, drug interactions, and contraindications in specific medical situations. As with other antibiotics, proper usage is essential to maximize efficacy and reduce the risk of resistance emergence. Conclusion Life is a mystery. Although the trip with Doxycycline was difficult, it forged a stronger me. Keep in mind that sometimes the conflicts we wage turn us into the protagonists of our tales. FAQs Is everyone harmed by doxycycline? No, each person has different side effects. It's crucial to keep an eye on your health and talk with your doctor. How can one deal with the Doxycycline side effects? Medical consultations, support networks, and self-care routines may all be beneficial. Exist substitutes for doxycycline? Yes, a variety of antibiotics are usable. Always get advice from a medical expert before making any decisions. How long does it take for the negative effects to subside? It differs. While some individuals heal fast, others may need more time. You must be patient and give yourself time. Can you immediately stop using Doxycycline? Before changing your medicine, always talk to your doctor first. Read the full article

[manicpixieirl]

november 2, 2023

The day I had my first seizure was the scariest day of my life. I don’t even remember it. I remember waking up in a hospital bed in Greenwich, Connecticut. The sheets were scratchy and I had an IV, heart monitor, and leftover wires stuck to my head from the EEG they performed while I was in a mini-coma.

I slept for two days, I was in the hospital for five. They didn’t let me shower, I forgot how to read. I made a nurse cry when I threw a copy of a book I could not read at the wall of my hospital room and begged for her to let me take a shower. I could feel her empathy radiate towards me when she picked up the book I had just thrown and set it at the end of my bed. She was crying for me when she had to deny my fifth request for a shower -

I was so desperate to be clean of this event, I even told her I would shower with the door open and she could pop in to make sure I didn’t suffer any more mysterious convulsions. Her name was Sarah, and I could tell she felt for me when she had to tell me no, I could not wash myself clean of this. I never could.

I did not remember the battle, the seizure itself, but I had the scars - most of them on my chest, a result derived from the moment I stopped breathing altogether and the EMTs had to do that thing where they rub two shock-ya-back-to-life-thingies together and yell “CLEAR!”

That’s the scariest part of it, not remembering. Not remembering the migraine I had for two days leading up to my seizure, not remembering grabbing lunch with a friend the week before, not remembering saying goodbye to my family when they moved to Texas a month earlier. A month of memories, ash. I lost a lot, mostly memories and people. My partner at the time, who found me asphyxiating on my own vomit mid-event, broke up with me a few weeks later.

“I just… didn’t sign up to date someone who has all of this going on.”

Okay, fair. I did have a lot going on, but I am a person, and people typically have a lot going on. Especially people who had recently flatlined twice in Greenwich Fucking Connecticut. All I had to hold onto when I was in the hospital was him, and hold onto him I did. Probably a little too tightly.

While I was in my mini-coma, he was responsible for filling out my intake forms. He knew I was bipolar, yet when the form required him to check yes or no as to whether or not the patient suffers from a mental-illness, he chose to check no. I guess the town was too small and the stigma too large.

I didn’t find out that seizures and bipolar disorder were related until I had dinner with my ex-almost-girlfriend (don’t ask, that’s for another day) about a month later.

“Okay but how do you know it had to do with my bipolar disorder?”

“Quincy, I work for the state psych-ward. When we admit patients with bipolar disorder, we don’t ask them if they’ve ever had a seizure, we ask them when their last seizure was.”

Yes, chef.

I spent months thinking that my body could betray me at any moment, that I could just fall over and seize and die with no rhyme or reason. All of this because someone checked no on an intake form when they should have checked yes.

Thanks, asshole.

It knocked the breath out of me to feel someone’s shame surrounding my mood disorder, so in that moment, I promised I would never deny it myself.

So here it is; 2020 I had a life-threatening seizure that was triggered by a manic-high. As a result, I will be on anticonvulsants for the rest of my life. I have a whole lot of this going on, but it’s who I am. To deny my illness is to deny myself, and I will not move through life in denial, but in radical acceptance of who I am.

My pill container is full. Two blue pills a day, one yellow, one white, one orange and two chewy adult-vitamins; I like tasting fruit-medley in the morning when I sit with a cocktail of medications in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. It’s been three and a half years since my last seizure, my meds are working, and I have a partner who will not hesitate to check yes on an intake form if and when I have another epileptic event (it’s inevitable). I am sitting here with a thankful heart, hoping that both Sarah The Nurse and my ex-almost-girlfriend are doing well.

I haven’t had a seizure since my first, but it was bad enough to warrant my being mediated for epilepsy for the rest of my life. Every few years, I have to up my dosage and make sure they keep working the way they are supposed to. Every time I up the dosage, I experience a pretty dramatic shift in my mood. I become paranoid, irritable, and reactive. This is the first time I have upped my anticonvulsants since I sought out a separate prescription to help with my mania, and it sucks. Sometimes, I just have to admit - this shit sucks.

I started this blog to document my success story with Abilify, but I feel like as soon as I started to adjust to that, I was diagnosed with ADHD. Then, when I was just starting to get used to my ADHD meds, I was asked to readjust to a new anticonvulsant dosage. I feel like the entire time I have been blogging, I have simultaneously been adjusting - but maybe that’s just life, having a whole lot of this going on, but adjusting anyways. Maybe this isn’t a blog about med-changes after all,

maybe it’s just a blog about me.

[footygirl114]

Fénix (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

To all the anons who wanted a comfort fic after the pain that was today. I reallllllllly hope this helps. 

You took one hour everyday to yourself, everyone knew not to bother you. Teammates, coaches, family, your girlfriend all knew that you needed this hour to reset and get back on track. Turning your phone off, you would write in a journal, or listen to music. No matter what you did you did it alone so you could remain in your own head. 

Leading up to the biggest tournament of your international career you needed this hour to make sure you were playing up to your standards. You had fought your way in to a starting line up on the Dutch team and you wanted to make sure you were mentally strong for it. You had taken to using the free time after morning training to be alone and reset. 

Today being the day before the tournament started officially and only 4 days out from your first opening game you were feeling extra anxious. You disappeared and found a park across the road from your hotel, you found a quiet grassy spot in the shade and put in your headphones to drown out the world. 

You were 20 minutes into a good true crime podcast when you felt someone standing over you. You looked up into the face of your best friend on the team. As you sat up from the grass you cant help but feel annoyed at the interruption since you knew that Viv knew better. 

“Viv! What are you doing here” you lightly scolded her, as you look up you see she’s holding out her phone. You immediately grab it to see what was so important and when you focus on the words on the screen your heart drops. “When?” you ask her. 

“This article was posted an hour ago” She responds. 

You immediately grab your phone and dial your girlfriends number, it immediately goes to voicemail and you try again with the same result. When it went straight to voicemail a second time you are on your feet ready to lose it when you decide to try another angle.

Dialling a different number she picks up immediately “Y/N!” 

“Mapi, please tell me she’s okay” you ask quickly. 

She must hear the desperation in your voice so she answers quickly with “It’s not good Y/N, they took her to the hospital for tests.” 

You can feel tears starting to gather at the corner of your eyes as you picture your love in pain “But Maps is she okay?” you ask knowing she would get what you mean. 

“She hasn’t said a single word to anyone other than the trainer, she hasn’t even cried Y/N. I am worried for her” she tells you. 

Looking up to the sky you try to control your breathing and your tears as you say “Text me what hospital, I’ll get there as soon as I can Maps” 

“Be safe Y/N” she tells you. 

It makes you feel better knowing that she was there with Alexia. “And Maps, Thank you” you remind her gently “Ill see you soon.” 

Once you hang up you look over to Viv to see her standing there waiting, she steps forward and wraps you in her arms and you take comfort in your friends arms. You take a moment to gather your strength and settle your tears before you turn towards the hotel to go find a coach to make the arrangements with. 

You walk into the lobby and run into Lieke and Jackie both talking to the training staff. When Lieke notices you she immediately turns and says “Y/N, Viv finally found you! We have a team van on the way to take you to the hospital.” 

You look confused so Jackie adds on “We knew you needed to go see here, there was no way you wouldn’t. We have got your back Y/N.” 

Stepping forward you immediately pull them both in a hug and squeeze tight as you say “Thank you guys” 

“Y/N! Let's go!” you hear yelled from behind you so you say your goodbyes and head out to the team van. 

Its a 2 hour drive so you settle in the back seat and think about how Alexia has been there for you through everything that you have been through. Over 2 years ago you joined FC Barcelona you immediately connected with Alexia, and within a month you were dating. In the final match of the Champions league that season, you landed funny after a header and you felt a searing pain in the back of your heel. Rupturing your achilles tendon put your chance to represent the Dutch at the Olympics on the back burner. 

That whole summer Alexia was by your side through all the rehab, all the training, all the therapy. She was your biggest supporter and never wavered in her love for you. She drove you to be better, and she helped you get to the point you are now, a dominant winger who has fought their way back into the starting XI for the best team in the world, and hopefully the European champions this summer. 

You loved her deep in your bones, and you knew without a doubt that she would come back stronger from this, but she would need your help and support. 

Before you know it you are at the hospital, when you walk in you are greeted by a Spanish trainer who you find out Mapi called ahead to have them greet you. They take you up to Alexia’s room and leave you alone at the door. You take a deep breath before you enter and you are glad you did, your love is lying on the hospital bed, staring at the wall farthest from the door. 

You softly close the door behind you and step up towards the bed where you whisper “Love?” 

She immediately turns on to her back and looks towards you, as soon as you lock eyes you see hers start to water. You step up to her bedside and grab both her hands in one of yours and place your hand on her cheek. Before you have a chance to say anything she starts to cry, deep painful sobs. 

“Oh love, come here.” you tell her as you pull her to sit up as you sit on the side of the bed and pull her into your arms. She immediately wraps her arms around you and places her head in your neck where you can feel the tears falling down. 

Placing one hand on her back you rub up and down, you move the other to the back of her head where you scratch her scalp. Something you know will calm her down. Unsure how much time passes, you allow her the chance to let it all out. 

She pulls back and you immediately move both hands to her cheeks to wipe her tears. She quietly whispers to you “I can’t believe you came.” 

“Of course I did love, I am always here for you.” you tell her as you lean forward and place a kiss on her forehead. 

She pulls you back into her arms and takes a moment to gather her self before you hear her whisper into your neck “I’m gonna miss the tournament Hermosa” 

Leaning your cheek on to the top of her head you tell her “Love, you will win the next one. I am not worried about you coming back stronger than ever.” 

She pulls back from you and looks at you and says “I’m not sure I can” 

Shaking your head you reply to her “Ale, you are the strongest most determined person I know. If anyone can come back from this it is you. Plus you will have me beside you every single step of the way.” 

“Te amo Y/N.” she tells you before she leans forward and presses her lips to your hard. You lose your self in your lovers grip. The comfort you feel in her is the same she feels in you, so you know she needs this as much as you do. 

A few moments pass before the door opens and the doctor interrupts your moment. Pulling back you can see the smile on her face, and you know without a doubt that this is not the last the world has seen of Alexia Putellas on the pitch. 

**

When your Dutch team beats England in the final at their home stadium, you feel an immense amount of pride for your nation. You are so excited and when you turn to the family section and you see your love standing there watching leaning on her crutches. 

Making your way over to her, you first notice that she is wearing an Orange Netherlands jersey with your name and number on it. Once you are close enough she drops her crutches and is immediately in your arms “Im so proud of you Y/N” she tells you. 

Placing one hand on her cheek you meet her eyes and say “I love you Ale.” 

She whispers “Te amo Mi amor” and she closes the distance between the two of you and presses her lips to yours. 

The image of the both of you will make headlines around the world, your favourite one stating “AN injured La Reina Still won at the Euros” 

That article will remain framed in your house long after you both retired. It remains on display with World Cup trophy your lover went on to win the following year and all three of her Ballon D’or. 

[lacelynpage]

could you perhaps do a preference thing for sherlock characters with an S/O with severe PTSD, to the point where they can seem aggressive? If you’re uncomfortable with that, that’s fine, have a great day :)

A/N: Here you go Darling! mental heath is always an interesting thing to try and tackle. I know that this wasn't perfect but I hope that it least was decent representation. I hope you have a great day as well! in horror of this mental heath post I am going to take a mental health week next week. I hope you all enjoy the story and ill see you again on May 12th!!

Warning: mention of PTSD, Panic Attacks, and Depression 

Your PTSD ~ Sherlock Preferences

Sherlock: 

Panic attacks are intense and exhausting things. With your PTSD you have one almost every week. You don’t have a specific trigger, anything could send you into one. They tend to start out small but at their height you are screaming and swearing at everything. You have never hurt anyone during an attack however sometimes after they are over you see the fear in people's eyes, like they thought you were going to. Sherlocks heart breaks every time he sees you so scared. He is one of the few people who isn't scared of you by the end. He always just takes it. Whatever you end up yelling, he listens and waits for you to calm down. He doesn't try to hold you or restrain you because he knows that will make it worse. If you need to run you should be allowed to run. Once you're a little more yourself he will hold your hand. He doesn't say anything. He waits for you to speak, then he drops everything and listens to you, patiently and intently. He is there for you. Always.  

John:

You have never met anyone who understands you quite like John. Though the sources of your trauma were different; they both resulted in the same outcome, night terrors. Johns tended to startle him awake in a cold sweat, shaken, but otherwise alright. Yours ripped you from your sleep into a state of complete panic. Your waking up usually also startled John awake as well. He would try to talk to you but for the first few minutes you would just yell at him to get away from you. Once your adrenaline wore off a bit you would realize that you are in your home and that you were only dreaming. After several apologies and a long soothing hug both of you would make your way down to the kitchen for some early morning tea. It was something John had always done when he had those sorts of dreams and you found that it also helps you. He never made you talk about it or seemed annoyed to be awake. He understood that your trauma wasn't your fault. The solidarity and support that John was able to provide you with each and every time this happened made you feel a thousand times better. He understood you and you understood him.

Mycroft:

The trauma you faced led to severe depression. you weren't aggressive so much as just done. Done with people, done with talking, done with everything. You isolated yourself from the people you cared about and everything that you loved. Nothing felt worth it anymore. Mycroft understood. He had lived through a period of his life where he felt the same. He knew that the life you had was full of joy, you just needed a bit of help to see it. After a bit of convincing he got you to see a therapist. It was slow going but that was okay. Nothing like that could  be fixed overnight. He was with you through every step. He understood the pain and knew that there was light at the end of the tunnel and one day you would see it too. 

Greg:

Your PTSD tended to manifest itself as your social anxiety. You were so insecure at times it felt debilitating. It closed you off from strangers and friends alike. You tend to get snippy and hostile. Some people thought your behavior was antisocial and that you didn't like them. However, that wasn't true at all. You loved to meet people, you just got so scared that they wouldn't like you that you brushed them off or kept them at arm's length. Greg always tried to help you. He would reassure you that you were a wonderful person and once you let people know you they would see what he sees. You had good days and bad days but Greg stood with you through all of them. He loved you and knew that you just needed a little bit of support.  

Moriarty:

Your trauma made you angry. It was like you were constantly burning from the inside out. You wanted to scream and cry and rip everything around you to shreds. Luckily, Jim helped you channel that anger into your work. You were the best of the best at what you did. He helped you make it a precision tool and in turn made it not affect everything in your life. You still had it burning in you but he made it a blowtorch instead of a wildfire. People were scared of you and that's what you wanted. You were his world and he hated that you were hurting. He knew that this wouldn't make it go away. He knew that what happened to you was going to be a part of you for the rest of your life, but he hoped this would help.

[rainieclown]

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter 3: blood pill

when you're in your room, you feel tired and lonely. it's been a long afternoon with doctors running around to find a new carer for you while miss burnham went home to recover. most of all, you were terrified that michael was being treated unfairly. there were sick rumours of doctor loomis mistreating patients, but you'd have to wait and see.

tags: angst, morning sickness, pregnancy/pregnancy tests

warnings: forced abortion, vomiting, angst, crying, yandere themes

huge trigger warning for (forced) abortions this chapter, i want to go into how patients are treated by the hospital as this is set in the 1980's and people in mental hospitals were treated cruelly around that time (esp in the halloween franchise) if you can't read this chapter, that's completely fine! i hope you're doing well, drink plenty of water and eat three meals - rin <3

michael had been gone for 4 weeks now, and you felt terrified. when you woke up this morning, you started vomiting and found that you can't move too quickly as you'll grow nauseous. miss burnham had visited, and was on crutches, only to be sent home by the administrator of the hospital. you felt lonely, they still hadn't found a free nurse as the hospital was pretty full, causing most of the staff to be overworked and unable to fit you on a schedule. so, doctor addison took you in on his more light schedule, he was simply researching cotard syndrome, and had three patients under his care for therapy and interviews about how they felt and how they became the way they are today. so, when you got up, after checking michael's room for any sign of him, you headed to the rec room where one of doctor addison's patients sat. they were talking, and the poor girl was truly convinced she was a vampire, referring to herself as "the mistress of the dark." you believed her name was thelma, but you weren't sure as she was never interested in talking to you and you just left her be. "thank you for your time, miss howcroft. i shall leave you to your undead activities." doctor addison bows his head before heading over to you.

"good morning, y/n. you look a little rough." the doctor greets, and you huff. "mhm. i feel sick, just spent 5 minutes throwing up." you sigh, and doctor addison hums, beginning to scribble down notes on a new page. "tell me your symptoms?" he suggests, and you hum. "nauseous, just feeling generally ill. i feel like i'm going to throw up." you tell him, and he hums, writing down the information you gave him. "morning sickness?" he suggests, looking up at you. "pfft, yeah maybe." you sigh, grabbing a cup to fill up with water. "is there any chance you could be pregnant?" he asks, and you choke on your drink. growing flustered, you stammer slightly, looking away from the man. "i'm guessing so from what i witnessed." he teases, nudging your side. "shut up..! i'm not pregnant." you huff, glancing at your stomach. "you could be, i'll get a test for you." he says, leaving the room.

you sigh, looking over at thelma who was staring at you. she makes a small noise as she realises she's been caught gawking, and you furrow your brows as she slinks away out of the room. you had noticed her wandering around curiously, sometimes spending her time with a burn victim. they seemed to get on pretty well, and you and doctor addison made a bet that they were secretly dating. when doctor addison returns, he hands you a thin box. "take this, and tell me the results asap." he smiles, pushing the box into your hands. "fine.. but i don't think i'm pregnant as morning sickness normally happens before this time." you note, but doctor addison corrects you. "no, morning sickness starts around the 4th to 6th week of pregnancy." he smiles, and you roll your eyes as you walk into the bathroom.

your heart dropped when you saw the results. you were pregnant. terrified of how the doctors would react, how miss burnham would react, but most importantly.. how would michael take it? would he be happy or would he ditch you? "fuck.." you whimper, tears streaking down your face. a few gentle knocks sound through the bathroom and you flinch. "y/n? are you done?" doctor addison calls through the door, and you whine as you open it up for him. "so..?" he asks softly, and you hand him the stick. "oh my... congratulations!" he smiles brightly, pulling you into a hug. you cry into his coat, and addison's smile drops as he rubs your back. "how will everyone react?" you whimper, and the blonde man sighs. "that i can't say, but we have to tell the board of your pregnancy. i'll leave it to you to tell mr. myers. come on, i'll take you to solitary to see him." he says, his british accent gentle and soothing. "thank you.. i'm scared but- i have to tell him at least." you sniffle, letting him lead you out of the room.

you've never been to solitary, as you normally stayed in your room or stowed away in the corner of the room. so seeing all the patients locked away and seemingly bored or distressed scared you. "is he okay?" you ask softly, and doctor addison shrugs. "i'm not sure.." he says softly, glancing at one of the more erratic patients in his cell. all of them were sound proof, inside and out, and were dark and cramped. "oh god.." you mumble, grabbing the doctors arm tightly for protection as you rest a hand over your stomach without realising. you get to michael's cell, and you see doctor loomis sat with him. michael spots you immediately, and his eyes brighten a little. you give him a small wave, upset at the bruises on his face and neck, desperate to get in there and hold him tightly. doctor addison gets his master key and unlocks a small panel on the door. "doctor loomis, i need to borrow mr myers." he says firmly as the older doctor turns. "ah, doctor addison. what a surprise." he grins, standing from his chair and turning his back to michael. "i'm just about done here. keep a close eye on him, he's deemed dangerous." doctor loomis says as he steps out.

you slip past the doctors and latch onto michael tightly, wrapping your arms around his neck, forgetting about his bruises. he doesn't seem to care as his shackled hands find your hips, holding you closer. "i've missed you.." you mumble, moving away to cup his face in your hands. "me too. are you alright?" he rasps, voice rough from lack of use. you nod slightly, leaning your forehead against his as you gently brush his hair with your fingers. "how peculiar. i've never seen anyone get a positive reaction out of him." doctor loomis notes, and addison hums. "they have a special bond, but we need to let them have a private conversation as i tell the board the situation." he says, closing the door to speak to loomis privately as well.

"are you alright?" you ask, still resting one of your hands on his cheek. "mhm. i'm fine." he replies, nuzzling into your neck as he pulls you fully onto his lap. the two of you sit in a comfortable silence as you curl into his chest. "how long until you get out?" you ask after a while, and michael hums. "soon." he responds, kissing the top of your head. "can i tell you something..?" you continue, voice quiet. "of course." he says, tilting your chin with his finger so you would look at him. "i'm pregnant.." you announce, averting your gaze from his. michael smiles, the thought of you swelling with his child was so hot to him, a true marking, but the thought of having a kid annoyed him. he doesn't like kids... but he'd make an exception for you. "michael..?" you mumble, tears welling in your eyes.

"don't worry, i'm happy." he smiles, nuzzling his nose against yours. you smile, kissing him softly. "thank you for not turning me away.." you sigh happily and michael rolls his eyes. "i would never. you're mine now, forever." he mumbles, resting his large hand on your stomach. you feel warm inside, and despite being terrified of the teen pregnancy, you felt happy that you weren't in this alone. the door opens abruptly, and you jump. "y/n, please come with me so we can talk." doctor loomis crosses his arms and you feel unsafe as you shuffle closer to michael. "talk to me here.." you say quietly, not willing to leave michael again, and he clearly feels the same way as he holds you tighter- this time being careful of your stomach. "fine. i'm assuming you've told him of your predicament." doctor loomis adjusts his glasses before continuing. "the board just won't allow a pregnancy between two patients, let alone between two 17 year olds." he continues as doctor addison looks away. "i'm sorry, but we're going to have to perform an abortion." the blonde sighs from where he stood. "what?! no!" you protest, draping your arms around your stomach protectively. "don't worry, y/n. it'll be over before you know it." doctor loomis smiles.

michael moves to stand, putting you down carefully and moving in front of you. "don't touch them." he says, voice rough as he speaks up. "i'm afraid you have no say in the matters, myers. hand them over." loomis says, folding his arms. "no." he furrows his brows, feeling you clutch the back of his shirt as you nuzzle into his back. "myers, this is crucial. let me take y/n to my operation room." loomis says sternly, taking a step closer. "over my dead body." he growls, and loomis simply smiles again. "we'll dig one hole." he shoots back, grabbing michael's wrist and stabbing a syringe into his vein. michael feels himself growing weaker slowly, but his urge to protect you- to protect his baby- is too much. tugging on his shackles, he tries to lunge for the doctor, but alas, he slumps to his knees as you gasp, moving to help him.

"now then, y/n. come with me please." loomis smiles at you, taking your arm into his hand to pull you from michael. "no! michael, help!" you yelp, trying to struggle. "enough, doctor loomis! you can't hold my patient like that." addison steps up, trying to pull you from the older doctor. "now now, addison. you don't want to get in trouble for stopping the process now, would you?" loomis teases, and you feel dizzy at how fast the doctor had pulled you. michael tries to grab you again, but he collapses fully onto the floor, unable to help you as you cry. eventually, a needle pricks your neck and you cry in pain before growing dizzy. "michael..!" you whimper as your world goes dark.

when you awaken, you're lay in your bed, snugly wrapped up in your blankets but something's wrong. you feel... empty. you can just tell that your baby was gone, and you start to sob. you cry for hours, feeling no motivation to get up to dry your tears or get some water for your dry throat. you just cry, clutching your stomach as you roll onto your side. your baby wasn't even a month into development, and they had stripped you of them. you barely got to experience pregnancy with michael, barely got to feel like a parent. your door clicks open, and you don't even react as you sob into your pillow. "y/n." a gruff voice starts, and you finally turn. michael moves over to your bed, and you scramble to hug him tightly. "they- they..!" you wail, and michael sighs as he holds you close to his chest.

michael didn't feel anything, but the sight of you mourning made him feel sick. he wanted revenge on the facility for making you feel like this, wanted to murder anyone who hurt you. "my baby..!" you cry, still clutching your tummy as he holds you. michael kisses your head softly, rubbing your belly for you. "it's okay. they won't get away with this. i'll make sure of it." he grumbles, a tinge of anger in his voice. "they killed my baby.." you whimper, hands coming up to grasp onto michael instead, his presence comforted you as you guessed he was feeling the same way. "it's alright.. i'll make sure they never hurt you again." michael states, laying down with you carefully as you settle with him, letting you cry yourself to sleep into his chest.

time passes, and doctor addison grants michael access to stay in your room whilst you mourn. he feels rage boiling his blood as he has to force you to eat, to drink, to shower, to take medication, to take care of yourself at all. they made you like this, and he was going to make them pay for every ounce of distress that filled your mind. currently, you were fast asleep against his chest, mumbling something incoherent in your sleep. michael can't sleep, and he doesn't mind staying awake until you feel better even if it kills him. you were his top priority, his obsession. he loved you deeply, and cared about what happened to you.

they had destroyed all progress you had made, you couldn't even get out of bed to go to therapy. michael gives you a small kiss on your forehead as you shuffle in your sleep slightly, your hands clutching his shirt tightly. tears are slipping from your closed eyes as you sleep, and michael gently rubs them away, leaning in again to kiss you softly. you relax slightly, but when he pulls away you whimper. "my baby..!" you cry despite being asleep. michael lets out a small breath as he rubs your back, fluttering soft kisses over your face so that you would settle again. "michael..?" you mumble, and he hums softly. "it's okay, i'm here." he says back, unsure if you're still sleeping or not.

you doze off again, content in your dream, still grasping his shirt tightly to keep him close. michael checks the time behind him, it was 3:41 am, time was going so slow. michael's throat was dry, and he can't fight the urge to go get water. slowly, he slips from your grip and gets up, unknown to the fact that despite unconscious you knew he left. as he gets a drink from the tap in the bathroom, you cry softly, curling in on yourself. your cries grow distressed as you lurch up, wide awake. "mike!" you yelp, hands trembling as you search for him. the other patient steps from the bathroom quickly, stalking over to grab you tightly. you settle with your head on his chest as he bundles you up into his arms. "it's okay.." he mumbles as your tears wet his shirt. "why did they do this to me..?" you cry, looping your arms under his to pull him closer. "because they don't care about anyone in this hospital." michael's reply is sour, and he moves back to the bed with you.

you sniffle as he lays you down, and you make grabby hands at him. chuckling, michael joins you and wraps you both up in the covers. "thank you for being here.." you mumble, nuzzling into his chest as you wrap your arms around his middle. "mhm, i love you." he smiles, kissing your head softly. "i.. i love you too." you reply softly, smiling brightly. after a few moments of silence, michael assumes you've fallen asleep but your small voice mumbles his name. "hm?" he looks down at you. "if we get the chance, would you like to have kids?" you ask softly, and michael is slightly taken aback. "in here or when we get out?" he questions back and you shrug. "either." you mumble, and michael thinks. "absolutely. i'll do anything for you." he says softly, "besides, the thought of you being full of my kids is hot as fuck." he adds teasingly, enjoying how you fluster. "thank you.." you mumble to the first part as he gives you a soft kiss.

michael pulls your leg over his hips and you hum, happily shuffling closer to him. "you're so cute.." michael whispers as you settle on him. "stop." you whine, hiding your smile. "mm, no." he teases, lifting your head to give you a soft kiss. three soft knocks interrupt your moment, and you sit up. "it's almost 4 am, who..?" you trail off as michael gets up, gesturing for you to stay put. slowly, michael peels the door open and is surprised to see doctor addison standing there. "may i come in?" he asks softly, and michael looks back to you. you seem uncomfortable, yet nod, so michael lets him in. "i just want to apologise.. i shouldn't of told them, i just... my research means anything to me and if i slip up it will mean nothing." he explains, and michael hides you protectively behind him.

you sniffle slightly, leaning against michael's shoulder. "however, if anything were to reoccur... i promise i won't tell as long as i can keep doing my research." he says, placing another pregnancy test on your bedside table. you eye it curiously, and despite feeling a lot of pain you know it's always possible to try again. "thank you.." you mumble, circling your arms fully around michael as he continues to watch the doctor's every move. "i hope you can find it in you to forgive me, y/n.. i think miss burnham is coming back soon so hopefully you both can do art therapy again." he smiles, leaving the room after bidding farewell.

michael grabs the test, offering it to you. "what do you think?" he asks softly, and you take the box from him. "i might still need some time, but i will happily try again." you smile, and michael smiles back.