#i finally was able to see a doctor and got prescribed a few meds for whatever demon is in my body

[solpng]

good evening beautiful phone app ppl i am back

[russellsppttemplates]

finn and Max being insufferable because they are both sick at the same time

Cw: sickness

It began when Max picked Finn up from nursery, "his teacher warned there was a bug going around his classroom, a few of the kids didn't come in today because of it", he explained as he set his shoes aside along with the rest of his clothes he had worn throughout the day, grabbing the pyjamas he has texted you to have ready when they got home.

Surely enough, in the early hours in the morning, you were woken up by sounds of coughing and, checking to see that it wasn't your husband, you got up and went to check Finn's bedroom, seeing your little boy sitting up in bed, holding his favourite dinosaur teddy and coughing a lot, "hey, love, are you not feeling well?", you asked softly, sitting next to him and feeling for temperature on his warm neck.

"I don't feel good, mama", he muttered, "my throat hurts, too", he complained, rubbing the skin while you kissed his forehead, "Mama is going to get the medicine box, okay? I'll be right back", you noted, not wanting him to think you were leaving him for the night.

When you came back, you checked his temperature before correcting the dosage of medicine on the tiny syringe, "I know it doesn't taste the best, but it's going to make you feel better, I promise", you attempted, your poorly little boy not even resisting it too much as he opened his mouth to take the liquid in.

"Are you two okay? I only noticed you weren't in the bed now", you heard Max croak, his voice raspy and not only from sleep, "Finn has got a fever and his throat hurts", you added, "looks like we didn't miss the bug after all", you shrugged, looking at your husband in the lighting coming from the lamp, "you don't look to good either, Max".

"I don't feel that great", he chuckled, "I think I ate something that didn't settle well", he squinted, "go back to bed and rest, love. I think I'll spend the night here with him", you soflty asked, seeing Max approach you two to kiss Finn's head, "get well soon buddy, papa is going to rest for a little bit and hopefully we will be good as new tomorrow", he said, kissing your shoulder and walking back to your shared bedroom.

By the time the morning arrived, with Finn sleeping on your chest, you could hear Max struggling, "I think I've caught whatever he as, too", Max groaned as he sat in bed, "my body aches, my throat has something in it", he complained. Checking for his temperature, you handed him the meds, "come on, take them", you threatened, "Finn is going very well at taking his medications, so you, a grown up, should be able to do that just fine!".

Leaving Finn with Max in your bed, you went downstairs to prepare some chicken soup, hoping to make your boys feel better. When you arrived back in the room, Finn was asleep on Max's chest, your husband brushing his tiny locks, "he finally fell asleep after we watched some cartoons", he whispered, "are you feeling better?", you asked.

"I feel like this is the worst sickness I've ever had", he groaned, making you chuckle at his dramatic antics. You had seen him bent over a toilet while a doctor prescribed medicine for a stomach bug during race weekend, so you knew he was just being a big baby.

"You will be fine, both of you", you reasoned, "I have some warm soup, cuddles to give and what I hope is a good immune system so I won't be next", you smiled, opening the covers so you could join your boys.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[effy-writes]

Hii!! I really love your writing and I saw that you're taking requests

WARNING up a head

I would like to know if you would be okay with writing a scenario involving Fizz and Ozzie with a reader (female or gender-neutral) who has epilepsy. The reader has been experiencing frequent seizures due to getting less sleep, stressing over work, missing a few doses of their medication (meds were pricey and they felt like a burden to them), and eating chocolate that was gifted by a coworker (they'd feel bad for declining), despite being aware that it's a trigger factor.

I've been going in and out of the hospital for the past 2 months due to high fever (after I fell off the stairs and hit my head) and seizure monitoring and despite being an adult, I feel like a burden to my parents because they have to look after me and pay for everything (and I try to skip a few days of meds to make them last a little bit longer) 🥲🥲🥲

And if you ever feel uncomfortable writing this, you can just ignore it! Mwah, have a good day/evening, loves!!

holy shit are you okay 😭😭 and thank you for requesting! and also thank you for the compliment!

also i didn’t know if you wanted one shot or HC so this is like a little bit of both i think

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fizz x GN!Epileptic! Reader x Ozzie HC

•You haven’t been epileptic your whole life. It all started when doing a performance at Ozzie’s and fell off a platform and hit your head. Obviously, your polyamorous relationship with Fizz and Ozzie were worried sick about you. They took you to a hospital straight away (and since it’s hell, it was a pretty sucky hospital), all they said was that you had a concussion.

• Going back to Ozzie’s house they made you take things slow and refused to let you do things. It was killing you though. Everyone at Ozzie’s loved your performances and the customers paid lots of money to go see you, and because of your injury you obviously can’t perform. So, customers ended up not going.

• You felt extremely guilty for it, but Fizz kept reassuring you that him and Ozzie aren’t mad. They just want you to get better.

•Well, things got even worse. A few days later you had a horrible fever. You felt so weak to even talk and your skin was burning up. Ozzie was the first to notice this. He took your temperature and was horrified whenever it came out to 105° F, which is a deadly fever. He immediately got Fizz and they took you to the hospital yet again. Since you’re an Imp they didn’t care, but after Ozzie showed his true form they took you seriously and monitored you.

•That same day Ozzie had to go to a very important Hell meeting so he left Fizz with you. He realized you looked worse even though they gave you IV medicine. When he saw your body shaking and eyes rolling back he freaked the fuck out. He called out for some nurses or doctors and they quickly gave you seizure medicine to stop the seizure. Obviously you were “blacked out” for this, so you don’t remember much. Fizz on the other hand was hyperventilating and got worried sick. He couldn’t call Ozzie because of him being at the meeting, so he held your hand and told you it’s going to be okay while you’re asleep.

•After some very expensive days at the hospital they officially diagnosed you with Early Post Traumatic seizure. Basically epilepsy. The moment you got this information you broke down. Ozzie rubbed your back while Fizz squeezed your hand. It hurt them to see you like this. The doctors prescribed expensive seizure medicine to take daily to prevent more seizures.

•Finally you were able to go back home and hoped things would go back to normal. Ozzie paid for the medication while Fizz reminded you to take them. The next couple of months the seizures became less frequent and almost disappeared.

•You were still able to perform (after months of begging, but they soon gave in because they saw you haven’t had a seizure in a while). However, Ozzie made a deal with you. You can only perform on Friday and Saturday nights and made it “seizure friendly” (basically on those days they refuse to show flashing lights), and because of those seizure friendly days more people started showing up because they also have epilepsy!!

•Your polyamorous relationship anniversary is coming up and you wanted to do something special. And lucky for you, it landed on a friday. You’ve been preparing this for months, you wanted it to be something completely different and wanted it to be special. However, you could only practice the dance with the backup dancers super early in the day (like 4 am) so Ozzie and Fizz won’t see what you’re getting up to. You’ll sneak out of the bedroom and head on down to Ozzie’s and meet the backup dancers there to practice.

•Because you’ve been getting less sleep and you’re stressed out fixing up this anniversary present, your seizures have been acting up. The first incident was that you were walking from the bedroom to the kitchen (and you stood up too fast) and immediately fell back down as your body compulses. Ozzie was already in the kitchen making breakfast and once he heard something (more like somebody) and saw you shaking he took action and turned you on your side just in case if you throw up. He also grew in size and placed his hand underneath your head so it wouldn’t keep hitting the ground repeatedly. Ozzie kept it cool, but Fizz was hyperventilating (this dude worry’s so much because you mean everything to him).

•You didn’t know how much your medicine costs until Fizz pointed it out. He didn’t mean any harm, he just said “Damn, this shit is more expensive than the Demon Driller 5000.” And yes, that’s saying a lot. He meant it as a joke and didn’t know it made you feel guilty. You wanted to skip the meds, but since Fizz keeps track of it you had to come up with a plan for him to not helicopter you.

•It was actually pretty easy, you told him you wanted to do things yourself and he respected that boundary. You hid the medicine and only took it twice a week, which definitely didn’t help your case.

•Both of your boyfriends were worried sick about you and wanted to take you to the hospital but you always declined (you even got mad at them because of it. You meant no harm but because of the stress and having to deal with seizures just made you on edge).

•At work a coworker gave you chocolate because the anniversary was coming up soon. You didn’t want to eat it because you really didn’t want to have a seizure since they hurt so much. But, you’re a people pleaser and you ate it. Soon enough, you had a seizure 30 minutes later (not while performing because Fizz and Ozzie begged you to not perform once you’ve been seizure free for 2 months).

•After that one, things got heated between you and your boyfriends.

“Is everything okay, babe? We’re so worried about you.” Ozzie rubbed your back.

“I am. Just stressed and tired because of these seizures.”

Fizz laid his body across you and Ozzie, his head on your lap. “Is that all? Or is there something more?”

•You kept it a secret for so long and it sucks because the anniversary is this friday and you really wanted it to be special. So, you told them everything, including skipping meds.

“I haven’t been sleeping a lot and I’m stressed because I’ve been working for months on this stupid performance for our anniversary.” You huffed. “And I may or may not be taking my meds.” You winced.

“WHAT?!” Ozzie yelled, but lowered his voice, “What? Why?”

“It’s too expensive and I feel so guilty that you have to pay and I feel like a burden.”

Fizz shot up, “You’re not a burden! We love you so much and want you to be healthy!”

“Don’t worry about the money, babe. I got it.”

“And sorry for spoiling the surprise.”

“Eh, I figured you were up to something.” Fizz smirked.

“What? How?” You laughed.

“I know you. I knew you longer than Ozzie.” He kissed your nose. “I can tell when you’re keeping secrets. But I’m VERY pissed at you for not taking your meds.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

Ozzie combed through your hair with his fingers, “Don’t ever apologize, and don’t ever skip your meds. I’m flattered you wanted to do a special performance for us, but we also care deeply about you. You’re not a burden, you’re our lover.”

[turtletaubwrites]

Turtletaub Blog, WIP, & Health Update

I wanted to put this out there so no one freaks out! My daily queue is going to run out in a few days. I initially used the queue for my adhd, so I wouldn’t spam you for three weeks and then forget to reblog things for months, and I didn’t tag it before since I was on here everyday. Now that it’s going to run out, I’ll be adding to it and I’ll tag it as #turtlequeb

Things have still been unfun over here lately, but I’m okay, and health things are hopefully looking up. There's a health/life update/ramble below the cut if you're interested.

Part 32 is almost done, and I’m going bonkers waiting for y’all to read it. The current life situations have taken up a lot of my free time and energy, but it’s soo close! 😭

I’m also working on a brief dossier for our suitors since I’ve done way too much research on these guys, and I know how hard it is to keep track of all of these characters in this giant One Piece world!

I miss y’all so much. I feel extra yucky that in my current struggles I’m having such a hard time focusing and connecting, especially since this community has helped me get through such difficult times. I’m really hoping that I can get back to the things I enjoy soon, especially interacting with my favorite internet fiends! 🥰

Health/life update below the cut: (cw health, mental health, medications, side effects, depression, bipolar disorder, doctors)

It’s wild just how much medication can help people.

Without the Lamictal that I took for three years, I have reverted into severe depression, and it has been debilitating.

It’s like I WAS an adult with full control (lol, mostly) over my mental and physical capacities, but now that I'm off the medication, I have reverted to a child, a preteen, a helpless human with no ability to regulate my own emotions, or even influence my own behaviors.

For the last three years, I was finally able to utilize my intellect, my experience, and my wisdom, while dealing with stressful situations.

Now I feel like I'm 13 again, lost, desperately clinging to distractions to keep from dying inside, from falling apart, or disappearing.

But it turns out that the whole reason for going off of the medication might have been avoided.

During these treasured three years of mental stability, I experienced symptoms that negatively impacted my physical, and mental health. I went to doctor after doctor for this unusual issue, only to be told that there was nothing to be done.

Until I finally got the referral to a specialist last week, and they immediately diagnosed the actual issue, and said that the other concern was false.

So all of this suffering could have been avoided if one of the 10+ primary care or ER doctors I've begged for help these last 3 years would have said "you know what, this is an unusual and persistent situation, why don't I refer you to a specialist," instead of "this condition you're describing is incurable, take these pills, there's nothing else we can do" (even though it is NOT NORMAL to have these issues consistently for 3 years).

The new specialist caught me dissociating after diagnosing the issue in under five minutes. When I asked about the new med they were prescribing, they apologized that I hadn't been given the opportunity to take it before.

I now have to wait 3 months on this (non psychiatric) med to see if those symptoms will be finally be helped, but now that means I have to/get to retry the mood stabilizer, or something else since Lithium, Concerta, and Hydroxyzine are clearly not enough to keep me functioning.

I fucking advocate for myself y'all, but I was misdiagnosed, and kept getting sent away in tears. Now I'm spacey, dissociated. Still too scared and hurt to hope that this new thing will help.

I'm tired.

All I want to do is write. I will literally take whatever pill lets me get back to my preferred writing schedule. Gimme.

I'm trying not to let guilt pile up about not connecting, about not being able to write like I could when I wasn't severely depressed. Logic brain and depresso brain don't mix though, and my pile of unanswered comments and unread fics here and on Ao3 have been making me sad.

But it's just because I love this lil world, and I WANT to be here. I plan to try Lamictal again, or something else in about a month since I want to give the new med some time to observe any side effects.

For now, my mood stabilizer of choice is endless reaction videos of therapists and rappers reacting to Hi Ren, The Hunger, and Chalk Outlines. Ren's music fucking gets into me when nothing else can, and I'm trying TRYING to remember the lines that sit me down when I start to spiral.

It's helping me write to see him use his pain and trauma to create absolute beauty.

This is a giant ramble, but one more thing, I swear!

When I began writing for our Numbers Girl, and even when we got into her backstory, and trauma things started coming up, I didn't think about it like this. Since I've been diagnosed and medicated for 3 years, my ability to manage most of my psychological symptoms felt amazing. Those conditions went from being disabling to manageable and it was freeing. Writing about dissociation and trauma was easy because I know it all too well, it was satisfying because I wish I had found media to relate to when I was deep in it, and it was healing, because I was on the other side of it.

Now I'm back there. I did not mean to write a reader character dealing with mental health trauma while in the middle of it myself.

Hopefully I can hop back on some meds in a few weeks, and have the physical and mental symptoms I've been struggling with ease up.

I'm a trying.

It just made me sad laugh a couple of times while writing our Numbers Girl going through it recently, because I am now right there with her instead of reaching my hand down the deep, dark hole to help her climb into the light.

But we'll get through it together, and having such wonderful, supportive people cheering on my healing and writing is incredible. I can't begin to describe how grateful I am to all of you, and how excited I am to get back into this amazing community.

Just gotta go easy. Soften. Relax.

Thank you for reading 🙏🏼

Lynna 💜✨

[beskad]

.

Soooooooooooo I LOOOOOOVE when all of my suffering was caused by exactly the things I suspected and said were causing it but was repeatedly told by doctors that I was incorrect about

Hey doc, I literally can't "work out." In addition to that being a really triggering concept because my family (who I was literally locked into my home with 24/7 thanks to completely unregulated fundamentalist Christian homeschooling) bullied me relentlessly for being the "fat" one (at only 130lbs and 5ft 5in at the time) - I get nauseated and almost throw up, or I get faint and I black out. OR I literally just cannot physically draw breath at all because my lungs are burning and my heart rate is 195bpm and then one of the two previously mentioned things happens...

And, lo and behold

LMAO. IT WAS ASTHMA. LMAO. SEVERE PANIC ATTACKS. LMAO. CHRONIC FATIGUE. LMAO. PHYSICAL SIDE EFFECTS OF THE 8 DIFFERENT MENTAL HEALTH MEDS THEY KEPT PUSHING ON ME EVEN WHEN I BEGGED THEM TO STOP BECAUSE THE SIDE EFFECTS WERE SO AWFUL AND I EXPERIENCED NO RELIEF OF DEPRESSION SYMPTOMS ANYWAY.

And I had to slowly figure all of this out myself over 15 years because doctors absolutely would not help me. They did not believe me. They never believe me. I've seen 14+ doctors in 2 different states. ONE doctor did do a heart monitor patch for several weeks last November because I was like hey. I literally feel like I'm dying. But the arrhythmia was within "normal" limits apparently.

(turns out, it was a side effect of lamictal exacerbating my existing issues, which I only know because it COMPLETELY DISAPPEARED after discontinuing meds)

Like, I had mono in February 2019 and it took 3 visits before I could convince someone to do a test for mono. THREE. VISITS. THREE DIFFERENT DOCTORS.

When you're that sick, it takes more than you even have to be able to get to a doctor at all. Nevermind the financial burden, even when you do go, they never listen so it takes multiple visits with multiple people before anyone will do anything. PLUS I have to save up spoons from the day before, use all my spoons day of, and borrow spoons from the next day just to get to the appointment.

I am now almost exactly 3 months out from discontinuing the last disastrous mental health medication I was on. One that caused nerve pain and emotional numbness, and if I missed a dose by even a few hours: uncontrollable crying fits and 3-day-long episodes of suicidal ideation. Without fail. All without any remission of my symptoms.

I've been on zoloft, prozac, remeron, wellbutrin, cymbalta, lamictal, several others that I can't even remember now, since 2016 with no improvement. I finally fucking had it and carefully discontinued my gradual step-down of lamictal in mid-may. I finally feel almost like a real human being.

I still wake up tired and sore, but it's like I've been clipped by a Toyota Corolla, not hit head on by a freight train.

I still have very little energy, but I'm able to see friends once or MAYBE even TWICE??? a week now. I play co-op videogames at least once a week.

That was unimaginable 2 years ago.

Anyway I'm just. I'm so mad that I've been so ignored by medical professionals. I'm so mad that I've literally had to trial and error shit myself and beg and beg and beg for help just to be ignored. And to realize, in the end - oh. It was asthma. (I only got prescribed the inhaler because I was having post-covid breathing issues, they wouldn't even evaluate me otherwise!!!!) oh, it was panic attacks. Oh, the side effects of my meds were more severe than just tearfulness. Yikes.

[armortrivial]

My partner has a condition that causes their body to be in constant agonizing pain. They used to be prescribed opioids, but then it became law that you had to come in for pill counts and urine testing every month. A lot of disabled people can't do that. Hell a lot of non-disabled people can't even make that work. Having to go in each month for testing, missing work, having to figure out transportation, having to get enough energy to do it. A lot of people simply can't and they are barred from it.

And that doesn't even account for the fact that the whole time you are taking these meds you are faced with prejudice. Like what OP experienced and friends of OP experienced, people share their "opinions" that your medicine that is making your life considerably better is actually evil and you are evil for taking it. My partner now refuses medication that would make their quality of life greater due to the stigma and all of the hoops you have to jump through just to feel less pain.

I met my partner a few years after they had to quit their opioids and knowing they once had more energy and felt better hurts. They grieve often about who they were and how much pain they didn't have back when their pain was treated. They are doing more damage long term taking OTC meds than their opioids would ever have caused them. My dad is in the same boat, he went from being my dad to being a pained husk of what he was and it hurts to see him like that.

I have fibro and will often experience pain, sometimes to the point all I can do is writhe and hope it goes away soon. I had been experiencing pain for years and finally got a diagnosis of some sort and I dared to ask my doctor "what should we do for pain management?" and was met with "you should be more active and work on positivity". As an active person who's pretty positive let me tell you that doesn't help! My neurologist was able to treat my migraines with a medicine that also helps my pain a little bit but it still isn't enough and I wish I wasn't in as much pain as I am.

Criminalizing and penalizing people for needing pain management (this also includes people who are misusing substances, because punishment sure doesn't help their underlying issues) doesn't solve the problem. People who are prescribed pain medication are not bad people. People who need to take opioids and other pain meds for their pain are not bad people. People who use other substances for whatever reason are not bad people. Anti-medication rhetoric doesn't help anyone.

Been slowly scrolling back through my inbox and queuing up answers. Finally got back to two weeks ago when I mentioned the hospital gave me fentanyl, and the number of "alarmed" messages I got from non-followers lecturing me about taking such a "dangerous drug" has me rolling.

Like c'mon. First of all, it was a one-time dosage to knock me out for a procedure that didn't even knock me out, and second of all, I'm not a fucking cop <3

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

destiel, 2.4k, mild hurt/comfort, happy ending. for @wormstacheangel who wanted a fic with anemic!Cas <3

"Cas?"

Dean hears a flump from the direction of the bedroom right as he finishes shaving his left cheek. It takes him about five seconds from there to dashing out of the bathroom, sink hastily turned off and half of his neck still covered in white, wearing an expression of worry that doesn't quite go with the foam beard.

Cas seems to hold the same opinion because his face splits in a wide grin the moment Dean enters the room.

A grin almost distracting enough for Dean to not notice that Cas is back on the bed, and suddenly wearing a blanket.

Almost.

"Goddammit, Cas." He sighs, huffing as panic slips away to make room for exasperation. He walks up to the bed, sets about righting the blanket around Cas.

Cas lets him.

"I should've known -"

"- Dean, I forgot -"

"- you were going to ditch your meds the first night after I stop bugging you 'bout them." Dean mutters, ignoring Cas completely as he makes weak attempts at protesting when Dean tucks one corner of his blanket all the way round at the other side, effectively turning him into what he mentally likes to call a Cas-burrito.

He doesn't like to call it anything at the moment though, cause right now, it's just proof of how Cas doesn’t listen.

Friggin' ex-angel of the lord, billions of years old, with libraries worth of stories and history in his head — but taking his meds when they're supposed to be taken, he forgets.

"It wasn't on purpose." Cas insists in a small voice, and Dean shoots an annoyed look at him before stepping back, finally finished with the blanket routine.

If you could call it that.

Well, Dean does call it that.

Because it happened often enough times after Cas's return from the Empty, human as the day Dean was born, to prompt both a title, and a reason to investigate why in the first place.

And not a lot of road to cover from typing in Cas's symptoms in a search engine — headaches, spells of dizziness, fatigue and feeling cold in general (things Cas had dictated to Sam who was typing, while Dean seethed from the next chair at not having been priorly informed of most of those things that warrant being informed about) — to ending up at the conclusion of a few billion (but actually just the first four) results, just minutes after.

Cas had anemia.

(The doctor Dean took him to the very next day, and Sam's completed research on the Novaks' medical history by the time they got back, confirmed it.)

Now, as far as the Winchesters were concerned, that was practically a relief — especially since their next place to look would've been old, tired books of curses, and the meekest of those would've been several times more worrying than the awfullest case of anemia one could possibly get - and Cas's, thankfully, wasn't even that bad.

However, curses are reversible. Or at least, equally as destroyable as their curse-rs are — who, usually, tend to be pretty destroyable when it comes to Sam and Dean.

Mineral deficiencies, on the other hand, are neither.

So supplements it is, as the doctor said and then prescribed — or so it should have been anyways, except for how the love of Dean's life was a giant baby when it came to taking pills.

"Sure it wasn't." Dean rolls his eyes, continuing in his exaggerated 'Cas' voice. "You just forgot."

Cas squint-frowns at Dean with all the ferociousness of a tired, cold and anemic four-weeks-old human, and Dean perches next to him on the edge of their bed with a sigh, the exasperation wearing off too.

(If he hadn't already wrapped them up, this would've been about the time Dean would've taken Cas's hands in his own.)

"Cas," He says, softer now.

Truth be told, Dean can't imagine what it must be like to go from being a - a being, that can heal itself and everything else, to a human who gets shivery and lightheaded cause of things inside of him he can't even control.

It's got to be terrifying, and obviously awful, and Dean's proud of Cas for the way he's been handling all of it — but dammit he's supposed to do the things that make it easier.

Just like he's supposed to let Dean take care of him.

"Dean," Cas replies, looking sideways at him with most of the stubbornness melted from his expression as well. "I'm a little cold but it's okay. I'm fine." He says, like he can still tell exactly what Dean needs to hear.

What he needs Cas to be.

There's a pause and Dean looks down at his hands. He can't help his next question, it's been on his mind for some time.

"What about the first time you were human?"

Cas noticeably withdraws into himself on hearing him, and Dean feels immediately a pang of guilt. It may have gotten easier to read him since he became human, but an accidental display of emotion was still a novelty. (Being difficult to read was apparently more of a Cas trait than an angel feature.)

"What about it?"

"Shouldn't you, uh," Dean pauses. "Shouldn't you also have been anemic then?"

Cas turns away from him, slow enough that Dean knows he's not taken offense, deliberate enough that he's thinking.

He finally answers, facing the wall ten feet away instead of Dean.

"I guess I was."

"But," Dean frowns. "I thought you had no idea you had anemia until last week."

"Dean, I didn't even know there was anything wrong with me until last week." Cas returns, his tone steady. "And back when I was human for the first time, I didn't either, because I'd never known what healthy felt like before, so I had no idea if I was or wasn't it. Of course I knew in an objective sense, say, the ideal temperature of the human body, but the ordinary amount of chilly one should feel on the streets in winter, or how hard or easy falling asleep is supposed to be, I couldn't have told you."

"Oh."

"And I still wouldn't have been able to," Cas turns back to him. "Had you not been the one to point it out."

Dean scoffs.

All he'd done was ask why Cas had been shivering in the middle of the day. That was it. Honestly, how could he not have seen it sooner?

"So you just," Dean lets out, afraid of the answer. "You just thought the cold spells and the, uh," he falters. "The being tired all the time — you thought that was part of being human?"

Cas smiles wryly. "It is for a lot of people."

"But —"

"And it was, Dean, anemia or not, for a lot of the people I lived with back then."

Dean's stomach bottoms out. He knows Cas is right. Six years ago, he'd been living on the streets, living in a bus. Dean remembers him — homeless, cold, sleeping on the floor of a Gas 'N Sip in his only set of clothes, Cas. And he knows he's responsible for it — knows he deserves to be hated for it, and it messes with him everyday that Cas doesn't — but did Cas really not even know what Dean had done to him? What Dean had — and Jesus, he detests himself — made him go through?

"You really thought all of us were going through that," Dean blinks. "And none of us was saying a thing?"

Cas doesn't look away this time and Dean goes on.

"I mean, I know you put humanity on a pedestal it doesn't deserve, and you think we're all capable of things you're capable of, but Cas, I can't believe you associated being human with being cold and tired, and —" Dean scrubs his face with a hand. "Goddammit, Cas! How could I have let you go out there on your own when you — h-how did I not see it, and — and you should never have had to deal with it all alone, I should've —"

"Dean."

It's not until Cas interrupts him that he realizes he's been rambling. Ranting, really, because it's not fair that Cas only got to see the worst of humanity, and it's not fair that Cas was so used to feeling awful that he just figured everyone felt that way all the time. That Cas was all alone at a time Dean should've been there for him, should've been at his side, been there to make sure he was warm, and make sure he ate spinach and seafood and whatever the hell else is rich in iron — hell, Dean should've looked it up sooner — and Dean should've been able to tell that Cas was sick, even if Cas couldn't, because that's his job.

He hasn't felt this way in a while — this particularly familiar fear of failing Cas, and losing Cas, entwined horribly, returning to him; seeping back in through his skin, and settling on his bones like the vast sediments of guilt and loss he's been carrying for most of his life.

Cas is supposed to be okay, and Dean's supposed to make sure he is.

But so far as upto here, turns out Dean's just been failing in more ways than he'd even known.

"Dean," Cas repeats, pulling him out of his reverie with determination in his voice, and a hand on Dean's left arm, his blanket now hanging off of one shoulder.

Dean immediately reaches to make it right but Cas holds him right where he is. Physically and not-drowning-in-his-own-head wise, and he's the only one who can do that.

"You're not listening to me."

Shit, Cas had been speaking this entire time, hadn't he? "Sorry, I was -" Dean looks Cas in the face to apologize, and lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, cause thank god, Cas isn't that pale. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Cas smiles, and it's not lopsided anymore, it's just Cas.

(Dean wonders if he should try to mirror it.)

"I was just saying that now I know that that's not the only part of being human."

"What do you mean?"

"The pain and the suffering, Dean. That's not all." Cas says. "There's also love, and kindness, and worry of the non-lifethreatening kind that dissipates with a smile, and warmth."

Dean stares at him.

"And sure," Cas shrugs. "I knew those things before too — I've read books, I've watched you and Sam — but now I've felt them as humans do, for the very first time, so it's a different kind of knowing."

Cas takes Dean's hand in his, and Dean's the one who squeezes.

"I believe the human expression is 'knowing it in my bones'."

Dean lets out a strained laugh in spite of himself. "Dunno, man. I don't think that's exactly what that means."

"But I do know it in my bones." Cas says simply, and Dean's heart does that thing where it feels too big for his chest. How Cas could go through so much, and still be so full of kindness and good, is one of the mysteries of life Dean's never going to solve — but it doesn't stop him from falling a little bit harder every time it happens.

"You should've gotten to know it the last time too, Cas." Dean tells him, sighing again. "I'm just — I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Well, you are now." Cas tilts his head. "And I prefer the things I'm learning this time over the last time anyway, and I believe it's you who's always taught me that the present is what matters the most. I'm just glad you're here this time."

"And I'm not going anywhere." Dean squeezes their hands tighter, and Cas's smile grows. God, he deserves the world and he keeps settling for Dean, doesn't he — and Dean hates it, and loves it, and couldn't live without it. He puts his other hand on Cas's face, gloving his cheek. Cas leans closer.

"I love you."

Dean's throat constricts. "You're too good to me."

"I think that's the point."

Dean can't help but smile, and he really can't help the tears.

"I'm okay." Cas says, once more. "Are you?"

There's only one answer, and nothing to fight this time.

Dean closes the gap.

"I love you too."

It's not their first kiss, nor is it the first time they've ever said it — but it feels more significant than anything's felt before. It's more them, too — not sickly-sweet or angry and fighting, just them, coming around to the end of a hard talk, falling into each other's arms with an ease they reserve for each other only, and sinking into each other, slow and perfectly synced, like they're made for it.

When they pull back, a moment later, Dean leans his forehead against Cas's and licks his lips. Breathes.

"There's so much more to being human," he hears himself saying. "Than you'd ever find out just living here in the bunker with us."

"Dean," it's Cas's turn to sigh. "I've already found everything I need."

Dean's cheeks heat up. "I thought it was never too late to learn."

"It isn't." Cas leans back, hands falling back to his sides from where they were wrapped around Dean's neck. "But sometimes, practising old things is more important."

Dean immediately dissolves into laughter. "Yeah, no, great going. Call me old before you go to town practising on me."

Cas ignores him save a twinkle in his eyes. "And some things, I'd like us to learn together."

Dean grins.

"And some things," Cas concludes, with a wide smile. "Aren't taught anywhere else in the world."

"Yeah?"

Cas shrugs.

"Why so?"

"Well, rumor has it the teacher's afraid of flying."

Dean freezes for a moment, silent, and then snorts — because yeah, that's funny, Ha Ha, but okay, if Cas is fit enough to make jokes, then he's fit enough to take his meds now, and Dean tells him that gleefully, resulting in Cas's grin immediately turning upside down as he tries to scoot away from Dean, except Dean's kinda expecting it so he's prepared to launch himself on the bed if he has to — and he does have to, cause Dean might love him for his heart, and his courage, and his kindness, but remember how Cas is just a baby in a trenchcoat?

Yeah.

(And that is just a regular morning in the Winchester household.)

[fibrowarriorgirl]

How I found out about my fibromyalgia

Getting diagnosed with Fibromyalgia is particularly tricky. This is because fibro doesn't show up on any test. On top of that, many medical professionals don't even believe fibromyalgia is a real illness, or lack the knowledge to diagnose in the first place (source). So how does one even get diagnosed in the first place?

I am going to be honest, I have been very lucky with my doctors. All of them have plenty of knowledge on the topic, and the rheumatologist who ended up diagnosing me did nothing to indicate that he doesn't believe it's a real illness. I realise this isn't reality for everyone suffering from fibro, so that's why I want to start of this post with a lot of gratitude to the medical profesionals who have been treating me so far.

So, how did it start for me? Technically this started almost 10 years ago, when I was 11 years old. I don't remember this, but according to my mum I was often complaining about wrist pain and fatigue. The doctor did a few tests on me and couldn't find any cause. My mum did some googling and did read up about fibromyalgia. But because no doctor ever brought it up, she thought it wouldn't be the case. The symptoms eventually went away.

When I was 14, I started having joint pain again. I was also suffering from fatigue again, but I think that at this time it was caused by depression. When I went to the doctor, she told me I needed to excercise more. I was sent home without getting any tests done. The pain never fully went away after this. It wasn't constant, it just came in episodes.

And then last June happened. I woke one day with pretty intense pain in my right ankle. Almost as if I had somehow injured it. I hadn't done anything in the days prior to then that could explain the ankle pain. I decided to ignore it. In fact, I tried to use it even more, thinking of the advice the doctor gave me last time I had joint pain. The pain never went away. After about a week and a half, I tried to use my ankle less. Resting more than usual, and trying to put more weight on my left ankle instead of my right ankle. This also did not help.

After 2 or 3 weeks, I decided to go to my GP. This time I was taken a lot more seriously. My ankle looked completely normal. No swelling, no redness, no warmth, etc. My GP theorised I had somehow broken my ankle in my sleep when it started. It was a long shot, and after getting X-rays done, it was indeed not the case.

The next week I went back to my GP. This time I was referred to a rheumatologist. I was seen by the rheumatologist later that day. He did a physical examination, which meant he moved every single joint of mine to see if it hurt. Surprisingly, almost every single joint hurt. Even though I wasn't experiencing any joint pain anywhere besides my right ankle. In fact the examination was so painful, that I passed out from the pain.

I did a few blood tests, got 2 types of scans done of my lungs, got some urine checked out. My timing on this was horrible though, because the rheumatologist was going on holiday for 3 weeks on the day I got all of these tests done. So that meant I wouldn't know my results for 3 weeks.

And in those 3 weeks I got a lot worse. First the pain spread to my other ankle. Not only was my left ankle in more pain, but it was completely swollen. The pain got worse, and in the course of a few days was in every single joint of my body. There were days I couldn't even get out of bed. I also started suffering from fatigue I have never felt before. I could do one or two tasks a day, after that it was like I did a full day of intense physical labour. I purchased a cheap walking stick, which helped a little but not enough. I ended up calling the rheumatologist's office after only a week of waiting, begging for any kind of help. The on-call doctor prescribed some heavy pain meds. Even that didn't help all that much.

Eventually the rheumatologist called me with the results, all of my tests came back negative. I wanted to cry when he told me this. If everything looks good, how could I be in so much pain? But before I could start sobbing, he told me this meant it was fibromyalgia. An invisible illness, that not only explains the joint pain, but other health issues I've been having that I will elaborate on in a different post.

As you can see, it took a very long time until I finally got diagnosed. And although it seems that in the past it was episodic, that doesn't seem to be the case right now (or this is just an insanely long episode). I'm grateful for the amazing doctors that have been able to help me.

That was a very long post. If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask them on my AMA!

[mymedlife]

Guys, the pandemic has broken me. Every time we seem to be making any progress I feel like we get set back again.

Sorry for the long rant ahead, but I feel like I need to get it out of my head.

Back in the beginning, last March or so, when the state I'm living in shut down, I felt like I could do it. Daycare shut down for almost 3 months to prevent spread.

My husband's job changed his hours to 10a to 8p since everyone was working remotely so they could all be working on the same time zone.

My cofellows were generous enough to switch shifts so I could work all nights and weekends and watch my kiddo during the day. Which kind of sucked, because she doesn't play independently for very long, o was tired, hubby wanted it quiet, and everything was closed so there wasn't anywhere to go to break up the monotony.

Work was filled with frequent changes around what protective equipment we have and what is required to be worn where. I got fitted for 3 different N95s because we kept running out, despite having to check them out and have them sterilized between uses.

I had frequent discussions about how COVID is real with families who refused testing. Parents lied about their symptoms to be allowed into the hospital with their kids, including one who collapsed mid visit due to respiratory failure. Several people ended up having to quarantine because they weren't wearing their N95s during the resuscitation as it was unexpected (at the time we were only wearing N95s during aerosolizing procedures including bagging). This lead to a new rule on not stopping in to help until you have the proper equipment on (which makes sense, but but is so hard).

Early on I spent some time volunteering for the COVID hotline for my state. Most of the questions I got were people upset that things were closing. There were very few health calls.

My aunt died. My sister, a psychologist, argued with her boss she should get a raise for being a frontline worker. My other sister, who is immunocompromised, was mad that all her friends continued to party guilt free and we kept telling her to stay home. My husband began to enjoy his new schedule to the point that he would stay up until 3am playing games after work (the kid was asleep and I was working) and sleep until he had to work at 10 am. My friends talked about their new lock down hobbies, including my co fellow who spent her time creating a new lecture series for the residents. I felt like I was trending water, I started getting behind on fellowship things and I was so tired. My kiddo was happy that I was spending more time with her, and it all was temporary, right?

Eventually things started opening up again. Daycare returned. Two days later my husband was fired. Thankfully he found a job within a few months, but during that time was quick to anger and his staying up all night playing games and sleeping most of the day got worse. He dismissed anything I had to say about it and frequently promised to sleep earlier, later saying he had to stay up because the kid had a nightmare that I slept through.

During this time, many of my pediatrician friends were called to see adults due to high patient volumes and doctor shortages. Luckily I only had to see kids, but there was still a lot of mystery surrounding symptoms and the discovery of the multi system inflammatory syndrome.

My kiddo got sent home a few times from daycare for vague symptoms that necessitated a COVID test, and at one point she was at home with me for 2 weeks due to a COVID positive exposure in class. My husband's job was new so he couldn't take off time to help. At some point things shifted so I was now doing all the daycare pickup and drop-off as well as all the bedtimes (unless I was physically at work).

Following Breonna Taylor and George Floyd there were large scale protests around the downtown area, where my hospital is located. I wholeheartedly support the movement, but someone told my kid it was dangerous to go downtown, and she became fearful of me going to work. This combined with the break in at our home lead to sleep refusal. Something I had to help he with, leading to bedtime taking hours, because my husband would yell at her. Most nights I was too tired after getting her to bed to do much, which lead to more work piling up.

Job hunting was not as fun as I had hoped it would had been. I had one in person interview, everything else was virtual. Thinking about working at a place I've never seen was terrifying.

Many places simply ghosted me. Lots weren't hiring. A few went on a hiring freeze after my interview.

Every interview asked what hobby I developed during lockdown. I admittedly could have answered this question better, and explained that I survived the lockdown with a toddler and that was an accomplishment.

My home institution decided to go with my co fellow over me. When I asked my mentor why she said they felt she had more to contribute to medical education than I do. I'm convinced that in part this has to do with all the lectures she wrote during lockdown.

I was able to get a job, but it's at a smaller community ED where we have a few beds in an adult ED. I mentioned to my associated program director I was a little disappointed, and suddenly everyone is telling me to be thankful for what I have.

I can be thankful and disappointed at the same time.

I think the biggest thing is a fear that if I hate this job I wont ever be able to find another one.

I also kind of resent my kid and husband, if I had more support or time to focus on fellowship things may have been different.

But life goes on. The vaccine was created, things opened up, and now those who aren't vaccinated can stop masking.

The my body my choice people who previously refused to mask are pleased, and now there are barely any masks when I go out (despite a not great vaccination rate in my area).

My kid is 3 and cant get the vaccine, so we still wear them. She loves to whine about how the others don't wear their masks. "It's not fair."

No, it really isn't.

Masks are still required in the hospital, which parents complain about daily. Recently every time I recommend a COVID test it has been refused. The pandemic is over. Kids can't get COVID. And other nonsense.

Kids as young as 12 can get vaccinated. However there is real concern about post vaccine myocarditis. Now everyone who comes in with chest pain wants to complain, even if they are unvaccinated.

Things have been stressful, and my kid is picking up on that. She still has trouble sleeping and has started having tantrums. We recently had a meeting with daycare and they want us to have seen by psych to get her evaluated.

I've found that I've lost interest in most of my hobbies, not that I have a lot of time for them. Fellowship finished and I have the next two weeks off before starting my new job. I was planning on spending it sleeping, cleaning the house, getting out the baby stuff as we are expecting a new little one in a couple of months, and rediscovering my hobbies.

Today I had an awful migraine. I cant take the meds I usually take because of the pregnancy, and my OB wont prescribe anything because he is worried about masking signs of preeclampsia. My husband refused to get up to watch the kid because he was tired, so I pushed through until he was ready to get up.

I lay down to try to get a nap and I get a call that there has been a case of COVID at daycare, and they will be closing for 2 weeks. They will open up the day I start my new job.

And this my friends is what has broken me.

I was so looking forward to finally have time for self care, and now I get to play stay at home mom again with my kid who is in isolation.

After that call I got up and left the house. I'm sitting in my car at the park writing this, and while I know I will go back home eventually, I'm tempted to drive off and let my husband deal with this for a change.

[moral-turpitudes]

House Calls:

A/N: I’m in no way a doctor or even a med student, I just used google and went off my own experiences with fevers...so yeah lol. I’m screaming at how cute Soft!Tommy is though like I think I’m dead. RIP to me and my ovaries.

Trigger Warnings: Angst, FLUFF. Some flirty shit at the end.

Word Count: 1,640

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Request: “Could you perhaps write a one-shot Tommy x reader and the reader would work as a doctor and one day she would be called to treat John or Charlie (doesn’t matter) and she would be able to cure them and Thomas would be very grateful for it. I think that might be very cute but if you don’t like the idea it’s okay!! 😃😃”

Requested by: Anon

Summary: Y/N is summoned to Thomas Shelby’s house to help cure his ailing son, not knowing she’d catch the eye of the usually cold-hearted gang leader.

Part 1 | Part 2

Around 5am a rough, rattling cough came from the depths of Charlie’s lungs, startling him awake and causing him to cry between ragged breaths. His frail screaming pierced the air, sending Tommy shooting out of bed, grabbing his gun from his nightstand, and darting straight to his sons room. He panicked internally, while flinging the door open for any signs of danger, only to be met with Charlies cries and outstretched hands.

Tommy took a deep breath and sighed, scooping him up and taking a seat in the rocking chair near his crib. As he fought sleep, he looked at the pale blue ceiling of his sons room, listening to Charlie’s ragged breaths. With a furrowed brow, he lifted him up, bringing his forehead to his lips, confirming his suspicions of a fever. The poor thing was flushed red in the face, a light sheen of sweat developing on his skin as his hot tears soaked his face.

“Shhh...it’s okay. Daddy’s got ya. We’re going to call a doctor okay?” He said, trying to gently coo to calm Charlie down. He was whining and fussy and showing no signs of the fever breaking anytime soon.

Tommy gently got up with him and brought him to his bedroom, sitting him on what would’ve been Grace’s side of the bed, and lied down next to him whilst he dialed the doctors office.

A nice voice on the end of the line answered. “This is Dr. Y/L/N with the Birmingham Women and Children’s Clinic. How may I help you?” She asked.

“Hello Dr. Y/L/N, this is Thomas Shelby. I’m calling about my son. He has a cough, ragged breathing, and a fever that seems really high. Are you able to make house calls?” He asked, watching as Charlie played with a horse-shaped toy.

“Yes of course Mr. Shelby. I’ll just need an address and I’ll be over in about 30 minutes.” She said.

Tommy told her the address and any other details she needed to know. And before he could hang up, her voice sounded again, calming Tommy as the sun rose through the window.

“Don’t worry Mr. Shelby, I’ll have him better in no time. But just for a precaution, get a cold rag and put it on the back of his neck to help with the fever.”

“Alright, I will. Thank you.” He said before hanging up.

“Well Charlie, looks like we’re going to have a visitor alright? She’s going to take good care of ya.” He said as Charlie now laid against his chest, whining quietly. Tommy gently put him on the pillow and went to get a cloth, running it under cold water, and putting it over the back of his neck.

“There ya go, my sweet boy.” He said kissing the top of his head. He whined a bit as the cold cloth touched his neck, protesting the feeling as Tommy watched sleepily over him. It was around 5:30 in the morning when they finally heard the doorbell and a swift knock on the door.

Tommy picked up Charlie, and went to the door allowing the nurse to step in.

“Thank you for coming so early in the morning. I’m surprised anyone’s working this early.” He said, his voice still a bit groggy.

“Of course! I was working the graveyard shift so I’m always the doctor on call at this time. Now this must be Charlie...Hello sweetheart. My name is Y/N.” You said, smiling and in a much more lively tone than Tommy.

“Charlie do you want to show Y/N to your room?” He asked. Charlie looked up at you and smiled slightly, his rosy cheeks alarming you a bit.

“Lead the way you two, I’ll be right behind ya.” You said, nervously walking down the hall and up the stairs, reveling at the grandiosity of the house. You knew the Shelby’s after caring for many of the families wives and children, but this was the first time you’ve encountered the infamous Thomas Shelby. His current state was much less alarming than you thought it was going to be. You expected a ruthless leader answering the door, with a razor-blade cap on and wielding a gun, but instead he was a blue-eyed slim faced man, with a loose fitting shirt and pants on, and an adorable baby boy living seemingly alone in this huge mansion. 

“Here we are, where would you like me to put him?” He asked you. You looked around the blue-toned room, your eyes catching a portrait of a blonde haired, beautiful woman in a frame near his crib that you assumed to be his late mother, as it was similar to the one in the stairwell.

“His crib is fine.” You said, sitting your work bag down and putting your gloves on and putting your stethoscope around your neck. 

“If you don’t mind I’d like to stay, he doesn’t like when I leave...” He said, taking a seat in the rocking chair.

“That’s completely fine, Mr. Shelby. I’ll try to make this quick so you don’t fall asleep.” You said smirking. He smiled and watched on as you did your work.

“Alright I’m going to take this and listen to your heart okay? Big breaths for me, like this.” You said, breathing in a big breath and blowing out.

He did his best to copy you and sat surprisingly still as the stethoscope gently made its way around his chest and back.

“His heart sounds great, but his breathing is a bit rough. His lungs sound like they’re inflamed a little bit.” You said looking over at Tommy who was eyeing you intently, causing you to blush a bit as he nodded for you to continue. 

“Okay sweetie let’s take your temperature shall we?” You say before reaching in your bag to get a thermometer.

“Can you say “Ahh” for me Charlie?” You asked, smiling at him. He opened his mouth just enough for you to examine his throat before raising his arm up to place the thermometer under his arm.

“We’re going to play a game okay? You’re going to hold that under your arm and I’m going to hold this under mine until it’s ready alright?” You said, grabbing a pencil from your bag and placing it under yours, getting him to copy you. You were able to get a reading not too long after, taking the pencil from under your arm and clapping as you removed the thermometer from under his.

“Now I know you won’t like me for a moment, but I’m going to shine this at your eyes for a second okay? Look at me.” You said guiding his eyes with your finger as you examined them.

“Great job sweetheart!” You said leaning down to him and giving him a high-five. You turned to Tommy who was smiling at your all’s little interaction. 

“It’s 101.5...that’s a bit high especially for a toddler, and so from the look and sound of it, I’m going to say he has acute bronchitis.” 

His face turned a bit serious as he took in what you said. Your smile faded slightly as you took in his change of emotion.

“Will you be able to prescribe his anything?” He asked, concern lacing his face and his voice.

“Of course Mr. Shelby. I’m going to prescribe him some cough syrup that will help with the cough and everything, and I recommend cold compresses every few hours to help with the fever or a cold bath if you find it increasing.” You said writing out a note for the prescription.

“Alright, thank you again. I hate to keep you away from your work, but I’d probably be panicking right now if it weren't for you Dr. Y/L/N.”

“It’s no problem at all, especially when my patients are as well behaved as little Charlie.” You said, smiling at him and then at Tommy. You felt his gaze on you as you gathered your things and as you made your way to the door.

“Oh and Mr. Shelby, you can call me Y/N. I’d be happy to help you again if need be.”

“Thank you Y/N. And you can call me Tommy. I know it may not be the right time, but I’d love to pay repay ya in some way, not just with money...” He said lingering by the door to Charlie’s room. You stopped and looked at him, taking a moment to think about what he said.

“What kind of repayment were you thinking Mr. Sh-I mean Tommy?” You asked, catching yourself calling him that out of habit. 

“I was thinking maybe going for a drink sometime, when you’re free of course.” He said. You blushed and took a long look at him. 

“I’d love that actually...I’ll ring you this Friday when I’m free.” You said.

“Then it’s a date.” He said smiling slightly before turning back to Charlie. 

You walked out, hearing the birds singing as you drove off and back to the remaining hours of your long shift, excitedly looking forward to the end of the week.

Later that morning, Thomas called the shop, telling Polly all that went on and decided to take the day off to better help monitor him, but before she could say anything else he spoke.

“Oh and cancel anything for Friday of this week.” He said.

“Why...? Thomas is it serious?” She asked concerned.

“No Poll. The lovely doctor prescribed him some medicine. I’m...actually going to be meeting with her that day...”

“My god you’ve asked out the doctor?” She asked.

“I did. But I know she’s not like the others Poll, you’ll see.” He said before hanging up. 

After Grace’s death, he didn’t know when he’d want to take up dating again, but dating takes risks, and risks were something that Thomas Shelby could never shy away from.

Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @cai-neki, @peakyxtommy

[fanfictionismyescape]

The True Price

Chapter One: Pinako’s Final Request.

Summary: Years after the Elric brothers regain what they lost they come upon more hardship. The loss of Pinako Rockbell has altered the Elric family dynamics in more ways than one might guess. But shortly before Pinako passed away a mysterious stranger showed up to say goodbye one last time. Who was this woman who claimed to be a distant relative and why does her presence unlock the strangest dreams. Are they really dreams or are they memories that were stolen from them long ago?

Rework of The one they all forgot.

At the train station in Central

It was the middle of April and the beginning of the rainy season in most areas of Amestris but thanks to a particularly harsh and lengthy winter all the rain did was cause a ridiculous amount of greyish slush to accumulate on the roads and sidewalks.

“So much for a nice view.” A young fair-skinned dark-haired woman said softly as she boarded the train with a special brown paper bag clasped in her hands.

But then again the woman thought it was fitting considering what was transpiring a half day’s ride away. It made sense that the weather would be dreadful on the eve of that woman’s death.

Resembool, Amestris.

It was noon on the 15th of April, a time of year when people in the town would be out and about planting their gardens after another long winter but sadly mother nature just didn't get the memo.

“Do you want me to close the windows gran?” Winry asked as she looked out the open window that was closest to her grandmother’s bed.

“No, it’s alright dear. The fresh air feels nice.” The elderly woman said with a weak smile.

It’s been a difficult year, to say the least. It’s been ten months since the Rockbell-Elric family was hit with Pinako’s diagnosis of terminal liver cancer. It seems as though all those years of reckless drinking finally caught up to the old matriarch but thankfully the doctors have been able to prescribe the best mix of natural pain remedies and prescription meds to combat the pain so that the woman never really suffered. But there was only so much they could do.

Thankfully Pinako had been able to hang on long enough so that the rest of the Elric family would be able to come to say their goodbyes. Al and his expectant wife May have been living in Xing these past few years and as every month passed they grew increasingly worried that they wouldn't make it in time. But thankfully they were on the way here.

“Where did Ed and Maes run off to? The house is surprisingly quiet.” Pinako asked as she thought about her eldest surrogate grandson and great-grandson.

“Oh, those two went to fetch Al and May from the station. Apparently, their train came in early.” Winry told her smiling. It will be so nice to finally see them again, especially since Al hasn't seen Maes since he was a few days old, and he was now approaching his terrible twos and was going to be a big brother in a few months, not to mention the fact that they haven't seen May since they found out she was pregnant.

“It’ll be nice to see them. Especially, Alphonse, that boy doesn't visit enough.” Pinako sighed.

“Yeah well, what can we do. It’s not like the Royal Alchemist of Xing has free time to traipse off to another country very often.” The young mother said smiling as she looked outside, eager to see her husband's headlights come up the hill.

“No, I guess not. I still can't believe how far that boy has come. Royal Alchemist. Wow.” Pinako thought aloud as she remembered the young boy who got into so much trouble.

Unfortunately, her trip down memory lane was interrupted by a violent coughing fit.

“Guess we all have to grow up sometime,” Winry told her. “Do you want me to get you some water gran?” She asked as she tried to ease her grandmother’s suffering by rubbing soothing circles on her back. Pinako’s cancer spread quickly through her body and soon her lungs were causing the most discomfort.

“No, it’s alright dear I can wait till the boys get back. Please don't leave.” She pleaded once she got her voice back.

“I won’t” She smiled as she sat back down on the chair beside her bed. “Try and get some rest though.”

“Mmn. Maybe a couple minutes of shut-eye will do me some good.” Pinko nodded as she slipped further down in her bed so she could lie down properly. She spent the majority of her morning sitting up against the headboard and after her last bout of coughing, she was extremely worn out.

“Who knew dying would be so exhausting…” She added as she closed her eyes for some rest.

Winry sighed as she left the master bedroom.

Just as she was entering the main living room the front door opened and in came the cavalry.

“Alphonse!” She yelled in glee as she rushed over to her younger brother and jumped into his arms.

“Woah there Winry!” Al’s startled voice called out. It wasn’t every day that you get jumped by a seven-month pregnant lady.

Edward just chuckles as he witnesses Alphonse try to regain his footing after the tackle.

“The last time Mustang came for a visit she damn well nearly bowled him over.” He told his younger brother.

When Edward called up Alphonse to let him know the time to come say goodbye was approaching Alphonse told him that he would bring May Chang with him and also decided that moment was as good as time as any to let him know that he was going to be an uncle. It was a good thing Alphonse couldn't see the reaction from his older brother when he told him the news or he would’ve burst out laughing. Saying Edward was shocked would be an understatement.

“Laugh it up Edward,” Winry said with a laugh. “I am just so happy for you guys.” She added as she let the younger man go and went over to greet May with a hug of her own, but considering the fact that both women were fairly pregnant it wasn't all that easy.  

“Thanks, Winry.” Alphonse and May said smiling.

“As much as I’d love to catch up I really want to see granny,” Alphonse told them once all the pleasantries were through.

“Of course. She might still be sleeping though.” Winry told him as she went into the kitchen to grab Pinako some water.

“Here take this and I’ll help May get set up in the guest room we have for you guys.” She said as she handed him the glass of water.

“Thanks.” He smiled.

After having been given the water Alphonse went down the hallway that lead to the master bedroom. On his way, he couldn't help but stop and look at all the framed memories dotting the wall. Some brought on happy memories others more painful ones.

The one that really caught his attention was the one of the boys and their mother shortly before she passed away. Moments like these are hardest to deal with, sure Pinako Rockbell lived a very long and fulfilled life but it doesn't make the passing any easier.

“I always thought she’d outlive us.” Edward said as he joined his brother in the hallway, his hands in his pocket.

“Yeah.” Alphonse agreed as he debated knocking on the door.

“You idiots know I can hear you right?” A raspy voice called out from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, yeah we’re coming,” Ed said as he pushed the door open and allowed Alphonse to walk in.

“Ah if it isn't my favorite grandson coming to mingle with the commoners.” Pinako joked as she reached for Al’s hand and brought him to sit beside her on the bed. “It’s so good to see you kid.” She smiled.

“Not as good as it is to see you, granny.” Al said with a small smile of his own. Pinako may still have a sense of humor about her but that didn't fool the young man who had never seen the elderly woman looking so pale and thin. Pinako was dying and there was no deceiving anyone.

“I’m sure you say that to all the women on their death bed.” She chuckled.

Al, not knowing how to take her dark sense of humor looked over at his elder brother who just shrugged as he sat down on the chair beside him.

“Now be a dear and help me sit up so I can drink will you.” She asked Alphonse as he placed the glass of water down on the bedside table.

“Sure.” He told her as he helped the woman sit into a more comfortable position.

“Thanks.” She said as she took the glass of water. “That hits the spot. Winry won’t let me drink even though at this point it couldn't hurt.” She sighed as she drank.

“Yeah well, if only your weren't so damn stubborn and refused anything other than the rarest liquor to find as your last request.” Edward sighed with a shake of his head.

“Meh, I have developed a refined taste so sue me. Not just any alcohol will do for my final hours.” She scoffed at the boy.

“Granny you aren’t dying just yet.” Ed added as he helped Pinako lie back down after her water break.

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” She said as she closed her eyes again.

The rest of the afternoon went on pretty much the same way it had before, lots of catching up, spending time with Pinako when she was awake and able, and eating and drinking.

At around eight May decided to call it a night. She had a long trip and the distance was taking a toll on her pregnant body.

“Goodnight Ms. Rockbell,” May said with a bow as she got ready to leave the bedroom.

“Please call me granny, everyone else does,” Pinako said with a soft, tired smile.

May nodded and said goodnight properly, giving Al a chaste kiss and waving goodnight to the others.

“Such a sweet girl.” Pinako said quietly “Too bad she has to put with your crazy antics.” She smiled at Alphonse.

“Wha-” Al was about to complain when Edward came to his defense.

“Trust us gran out of the two of them she gets into more trouble.” He smiled.

“Mhmm,” Pinako said with a yawn.

Before anyone could suggest going to bed the doorbell rang signaling a visitor.

“I’ll go see who it is,” Winry told them as she got up from her seat and walked out the door.

A few minutes of idle chit-chat later, Winry came in with a surprise guest.

“It’s been a while hasn't it Pinako…” A soft voice came from the entryway of the master bedroom.

At having heard the newcomer Ed and Al both turned their heads.

“No…” Pinako’s voice trembled. “You?”

Pinako couldn’t help but look in awe at the young woman who appeared as if by magic. She was so shocked by the fact that she was here that she thought her dying brain conjured up the image. After all, it's been 16 years since she saw the woman last. She was only a girl then.

“Alex?” She asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s me.” She answered with a smile as she approached the bed and held the dying woman’s hand.

When Alexandra heard the news that Pinako was nearing the end of her life she felt conflicted. She knew all she wanted to do was say goodbye one last time before she slipped through her fingers and the last remaining person who knew of her true identity passed on but she wasn’t sure it was smart. She didn’t want to risk it.

But after having a chat with her former guardian about the risk vs reward she felt comfortable with taking the trip. Besides she had one last gift to give her.

“Word on the grapevine was that you were looking for this.” She said as she passed the brown paper bag she brought with her to the elderly woman.

It took a moment for Pinako to recover but once she did she looked inside and was once again met with a pleasant surprise.

“How-” She started but was cut off when Alex held her hand up.

“Don’t ask.” She said with a smirk.

Pinako just nodded. She realized pretty quickly that she really didn't want to know. The woman in front of her was a master of mischief just like the two grown men in front of her.

“Uh hi?” Edward greeted as he cleared his throat. There was something about this woman who didn't seem much older than him that had his brain buzzing. He felt as if he knew her from somewhere but couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh hi.” She nodded. “Sorry I’m so late but I was held up and I could only get away this afternoon.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No we’re glad you could make it,” Al said as he held his hand out for her to shake.

It took a moment before the woman accepted it but thankfully nothing happened and inwardly Alex heaved a relieved sigh.

“Have we met before?” Ed asked wanting to know what this odd feeling was.

“I am actually a distant relative on your mom's side,” Alex answered. The truth was close enough that she wouldn't be flat out lying and it would explain why she looked so much like Trisha Elric. “I was there when she died.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Ed said accepting the lie for now.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown…” Pinako muttered aloud more to herself than for anyone else's benefit.

“Well, that's what happens. People grow up.” The woman told her as she bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m sorry I have to run…” Alex started. “But I can’t stay,” she said as she looked Pinako in the eyes.

“I understand…” The old woman told her. It was a miracle that she was even here in the first place.

“Well, it was nice seeing you all again.” She bowed and started to walk out of the room.

“Wait! I’ll walk you out.” Winry said with a smile.

After they reached the living room Winry handed her an umbrella.

“Here please take this I can see your clothes are soaking wet.” She told her, her tone leaving no room to refuse.

Alex looked at the umbrella in her hands and smiled. It wasn't a thankful smile of sorts but a wistful one. This scene reminded her so much of that night so many years ago when she was forced to leave her life and her family behind.

“Thanks, I appreciate this. In my hurry to catch my train on time I forgot my umbrella at home.” She chuckled.

“Trust me I do it all the time,” Winry told her smiling.

“Can I have your number? So I can let you know when…” She started but trailed off when her voice started to betray the heavy emotion she was feeling.

Alex looked at her and thought for a moment. She already had someone that will notify her when the old woman was gone so she didn't need to give the blonde her number but at the same time it felt nice to know that she had that one line of communication open to them.

“Sure.” She said smiling as she jotted down her number.

“Thank’s again Ms…” Winry trailed off when she realized she didn't know her name.

Alex was just about through the front door when she looked back with a smile and called out.

“It’s just Alex.”

At that moment a flash of lightning lit up the night sky behind the woman and for a split second, a younger version of her appeared to Winry. She knew it was just a trick of the light but it unsettled her as she watched the woman walk into the night’s storm.

It wasn't long after Alexandra left that Pinako’s heart stopped. It was as if she was waiting to see her one last time before she rejoined her son. The last thought on her mind was that she could die knowing that all ‘four’ of her grandchildren would be alright. She could tell Trisha and Hohenheim that their children were going to be ok.

[johannstutt413]

(Inspired by this)

Gavial was finally done with her shift, and it was about time, too. Not that she didn’t enjoy her job, but eight check-ups in one day AND two surgeries? It was a bit rough, and on days like these, she knew exactly where to go.

“Hey.” He was waiting for her on the balcony, his mind on the same wavelength as he leaned back against the railing.

“Hey.” The Archosaurian approached him. “Isn’t that dangerous with your leg?”

He shrugged. “No more dangerous than spending the night with you.”

“I can fix that; you splattered on the deck is...I don’t want to think about that. How was work?”

“It came and went. Miss Ch’en stopped by to ask about some jurisdiction disputes between her and Fang’s team - a Lupo being territorial, imagine that - and I had my performance review with Amiya, so I basically just didn’t work the second half of the day. We had a good conversation about the difference between active and passive force prevention; I think she learned a lot, because I even learned a little. You?”

She sighed, leaning over the balcony next to him. “Two operations and a full day of measurements and scans. Found out Ceobe’s been forgetting her meds, so we had to give her hell for that, and little Suzie thought she might have been bitten by a slug but it didn’t leave any new crystals to grow from, so we dodged a bolt there. I’m just lucky we didn’t have any trainings today.”

“Mmm.” He nodded, expression hidden by a mask. “So you’ve been busy today. Tired?”

“Yeah, *yawn*, you could say that.” Gavial stretched as she yawned, leaning back with her arms above her head.

The Doctor smiled to himself as she rested her head against his arm. “Want to take a nap before dinner? Whenever you’re ready, we can head back inside.”

“That would be nice.” Her voice softened, eyes slowly blinking. “You don’t mind cooking tonight, do you? I’ve seen enough red meat for one day.”

“I don’t mind at all.” He turned away from the balcony, pulling the Archosaurian close for a hug.

To an outsider, Gavial and the Doctor were made for each other because they were cut from the same rough cloth in bold colors; in fact, after her first performance review, the Doctor might’ve agreed with that analysis. During his first check-up with her as his physician, however, he realized that wasn’t entirely true.

He’d been held up by a meeting going long and found her in a sour mood because of it. “Good afternoon, Doctor. Mind telling me what kept you?” Her tail’d started swishing slowly, menacingly, behind her when he opened the door to her office.

“Strategy meeting went long; I tried to explain, but they refused to let me leave.” He shook his head as he unzipped his jacket to hang on a rack near the door. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Doctor; it’s your health that’s at risk, not mine. Although, looking at your records, you’ve kept rigorously to your treatment schedule.” There was an interesting note to her voice as she said that - almost gratitude, as if she hadn’t expected him to have followed the plan he’d been prescribed.

He shrugged. “I was given that for a reason; no reason not to follow it. Height/weight or blood pressure first? I’ve had it both ways since I got here.”

“Height/weight. Whoever did it the other way must’ve been confused.” A couple measurements later, and the Archosaurian frowned. “Underweight. Are you eating properly?”

“I eat three meals a day,” the Doctor replied as he sat on the half-folded examination table.

Gavial took a few notes before grabbing the blood pressure cuff. “Full meals or microwave food?”

“Both,” he shrugged. “Don’t have time to make breakfast and lunch properly, but dinner’s a different story.”

“You don’t have time? That’s an easy fix - just get up earlier.” Cuff in place, she watched him as she waited for it to pressurize and deflate.

He similarly watched her. “I would, but any less sleep and I’d be completely non functioning.”

“That’s even worse.” The Archosaurian sighed as she noted the reading. “132/84. We need to bring that down, too...What’d the last person you saw tell you to do about this?”

“They said it was ‘within the acceptable range’ and left it at that.”

She cursed under her breath. “Damn it, what kind of physician doesn’t notice that? Take off your shirt.”

“Sure.” Shirt: gone, reduced to a pile on the stool next to the exam table. “Scar check?”

“Yeah...Interesting.” More fit than she’d expected, considering the biodata. Gavial pulled a glove over her right hand while she held her reference/scanner in the left. “Trunk, left side - no change. Neck, right side - no change. Left forearm, radius side - no change. Any weirdness anywhere?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Nothing to report.”

“Good. Pants, now...No previous crystal growth, and nothing new to report.”

“That’s a relief.” He pulled his pants back up as he watched her go back for her second glove. “Any reason you didn’t put them both on the first time?”

She gave him a look. “I need to come back over here to make notes. Your infection isn’t getting worse externally, and the scanner didn’t pick up any changes internally, either. So far, my only concerns are for your general well being and not your untimely death, which means you’re in the upper percentile of patients.”

“Lucky me...If I remember my HR files, you’re infected, too?”

“That’s right.” She walked back over to him. “Is that an issue?”

Another head-shake. “Not at all. What’s left?”

“ENT and respiratory; should be rather quick. Look straight ahead...Left is good...Right is good. Tilt your head back...nothing to worry about there. Might want to blow your nose when we’re done.” She smirked at that.

“Sure.” The Doctor stopped craning his neck. “Anything else?”

Of course - the part most people gave her shit over for not doing earlier in the check-up. “I need to feel you breathe. Something wrong?”

“No, go ahead.” He’d tensed up as one hand touched his back and the other rested against his chest.

“Alright, take a deep breath in...Out...In...Out...In...Out- Good, no issues. Just need to take a blood sample and we’re done here.”

...From a medical standpoint, yes, but while he was here, the Doctor did have a few questions. “Do you have another patient to see after this?”

“I’m actually going to lunch after this.” The Archosaurian took a few notes. “Why do you ask?”

“Mind if I eat with you? Couple of things I’m curious about.” Things only she knew for sure.

Gavial shrugged. “I won’t stop you. Right arm since you have that scar on your left.”

“Gotcha.” He glanced over at his shirt as he asked, “Cafeteria?”

“I eat in my apartment.” She walked back over to him with a lancet.

The Doctor made a quick calculation. “You want me to get my own food or-”

“I’ll cook for both of us.” She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I know my way around a kitchen. Hold out your hand. *click* And done...Hmm. BOCD’s down from your last check-up. Good. Now if we can just get your lifestyle in order, you’ll be able to enjoy the long life you have ahead of you.”

“Sounds good. You want me to pay you back?”

The Archosaurian shook her head as she cleaned up her workspace. “No need - I’ve got a spare steak I need to cook anyway. You can put your shirt back on.”

“If I have to.” He smirked as her tail slapped the ground once. “It’s refreshing talking to someone straightforward. Feels like everyone else around her plays games, but you just keep to the facts and the best way to say them.”

“Doctors and soldiers should be direct; you lose time, you lose lives. Appreciate the compliment, though; most people think I’m too blunt.”

He hopped to his feet as she turned to leave and followed her out into the hallway. “That’s a thing?”

“Apparently.” Gavial shrugged. “If it didn’t bother patients, I doubt they’d say anything. Saria doesn’t get any complaints, after all.”

“Well, I’m not complaining.” Why would he complain about finding a kindred spirit, after all?

And in the months since that first meal together, he’d never even come close.

[poetryofyouth]

I did it, I finally quit psychiatry

(I wrote this for r/antipsychiatry, but I thought I might as well post it here too. don't read if you're easily triggered)

It's been a long journey through hell, but I've had enough. I'm not taking any more shit from incompetent, clueless doctors who think they know me better than I do myself. Who do not listen to me when I beg them to change the medication and instead just give me more of the stuff that is making me worse. I'll finally be free.

I doubt anyone cares, but I'll just tell you my story from the beginning. This is going to be a very long story. Basically, I became depressed at 14 or 15, I'm a 22 year old woman now. The reason was mainly that I couldn't handle the pressure from school. I am a very ambitious, perfectionist but also extremely lazy person. I was constantly beating myself up for not achieving what I wanted to achieve but also unable to fix my behavior. I did also have some slight, not even that serious trauma from a emotionally neglectful childhood and my parents telling me I was a failure every time I would get a grade that wasn't an A. At some point it all became too much and I started self-harming. Then I got worse and worse, self harming occasionally but severely, until I finally attempted suicide at 17.

I was locked into a youth psychiatry institution against my. will. I had my rights, my freedom taken away and was forced to take heavy medications. The very first evening I asked the psychiatrist at the hospital about the side effects of the medications, but he refused to tell me anything and instead just said I should trust his professional judgement. Unfortunately I was too tired and unwell to keep asking so I just accepted not knowing what would happen to me.

They gave me very high doses of Seroquel (Quetiapine), SSRIs and other stuff that I don't even know because they didn't even tell me the names of what they made me take. I just know the names of the medications I was supposed to continue to take after the hospital stay because they were in the papers they gave me. Then after a few days I begged the doctor to take me off the meds because I was so tired I could barely move. I had never felt worse in my life. she refused and instead upped my dose further.

I got worse and worse until I managed to get access to a razor blade I injured myself with on purpose. When my roommate told the nurses what I had done, I was forcefully, against my will restrained onto a bed. Yes, they actually tied me to a bed. And then pushed the bed into a small room where I was alone, and tied to the bed, unable to move. Of course I had a severe panic attack. The room had video surveillance, but it took them quite some time to notice that I was having a panic attack. they finally came and gave me something to breathe into and I calmed down more or less, but they didn't untie me. I later had to pee, and they didn't even untie me for that. I had to pee into a bedpan while tied to the bed, with a nurse watching me. it was incredibly humiliating. I was not untied the entire night. I was restrained until the next morning. When they finally untied me, I had quite seriously injured myself from fighting against the restraints. I had basically torn the skin off my ankles, the scars are faded now but they were visible for many years. It was quite painful. I do consider this incident of being restrained against my will psychiatric abuse, especially because I was restrained for so long. In total probably 10 hours, maybe even more.

Then the hospital didn't really know what to do with myself. I had of course lost any trust I had into the nurses and doctors and shut myself off from them. So they transferred me to a different institution, a more high-security one. Of course I wasn't asked if that was okay, I had to comply. I had began to form relationships with some of the girls, so being taken away from the small support system I had was very stresssful, especially considering how fragile I was at that time.

The other institution wasn't much different, but it was good for me to be taken away from the people who had abused me. I got a tiny bit better. I started to trust the nurses there a little bit. I got along with the other patients and over all liked the hospital better for maby reasons. And then they noticed I was a little better. And then they decided I was well enough to go back to the other hospital. Of course I wasn't asked this time either. But I had made more progress there in two weeks than in the other hospital in a month. I had again started building a little support system. But worst of all, I was forced to go back to the place where I had been abused, and at the time I was still very affected by the experience. I felt incredibly powerless and betrayed, but I didn't have a choice.

Then back at the first hospital I decided I would get better, for no other reason than to finally be able to leave that horrible place.

Then two things were getting severly uncomfortable. I was weighed every week and started noticing significant weight gain. At the same time, I was hungry all the time. painfully hungry, ravenous, even. I basically felt like I was starving all the time but still put on weight. Of course that was because of the high doses of Seroquel, but no one told me. I told nurses, doctors and therapists about the hunger and weight gain, but they simply didn't tell me that was a side effect, they told me an increased appetite was a sign i was getting better. I legit thought I was losing my mind.I have struggled with weight all my life and putting weight on like that made me feel horrible.

Then the doctor decided I was well enough to start taking up school work again. I begged him not to force me to, I told them the pressure of school was the reason I was sick in the first place. Of course no one listened to me. I was forced to do school work even if I knew it wasn't good for me. they didn't care.

Then, after three months of hell, I was finally released. And only because it was Christmas, and my parents refused to leave me there over Christmas. I got a therapist and medication for home.

Then after the Christmas holidays I, against my will, started going to school again. And after about two weeks, my new therapist told me that I had to choose between dropping out of school or going back to the hospital, because school was already making me severely suicidal again. And that was one of the few good things a mental health professional had said to me. I dropped out of school and actually started getting better for real. I sometimes forgot to take my medication, and every time I did, I instanty felt better. I suddenly didn't feel like a tired zombie anymore, I actually had emotions, I felt... alive. So I begged my psychiatrist to let me stop taking medications, and a few months after being released from the hospital, I was free of them.

And everything was great. I got a job, then I volunteered in New Zealand, then, when I was in a more stable place than at 17, I took up school again and graduated with flying colors. I was doing incredibly well.

And then I started university. The first semester went okay, but my mental health quickly started deteriorating. It was the academic pressure again. That's simply something I cannot handle. Soon I started self harming again, and it became more frequent than ever before. I also got into a bad, one might even say toxic, relationship. My girlfriend had issues on her own, but her behavior towards me was often extremely triggering and I very frequently self harmed because of something to do with our relationship. I do not want to blame her for my behavior, but she often made feel worthless, like I was not good enough for her. She would frequently cancel our dates at the last minute, and when she didn't, she would be half an hour late, and when we were together, she didn't make me feel very appreciated either. I was very much in love with her and always blamed myself for everything she did. She once even talked me into having sex with her, when I had said no repeatedly. She did not accept no for an answer and kept pushing until I slept with her to make her shut up. I felt like I didn't have a choice. She didn't force me to, but she simply did not accept my "no". Anyways, it was not her who took the knife to my skin, but she was a big factor in why I did it. I never told her she was a reason for my severe self harm, I didn't want her to feel bad. I didn't hide my wounds fro. her, I mean we did see each other naked and I always had at least four or five big bandages. We just kinda... ignored that.

So then I was getting desperate and decided to get professional help once again. I went to a free psychiatrist from the student councellors and she prescribed me Seroquel once again. I told her I didn't want to take it because it had made me gain a lot of weight and made me very tired. She laughed in my face and told me Seroquel doesn't do that. I don't know if she was just incompetent or lied to me on purpose, because these side effects are experienced by pretty much every single person who takes Seroquel, they are listed in the information leaflet, and I know many people who have taken this medication, all of them had them. During the appointment, she did not even ask me how I was feeling. She prescribed me 200 mg of Seroquel XR. Now, the recommended starting dosage is 50 mg. She prescribed me a starting dosage of four times the recommended amount. Unfortunately, I did not know that back then, I didn't expect a doctor to be that negligent. I took the first 200 mg pill that very evening before going to listen to a debate. Seroquel XR takes a while to kick in, but oh boy did it kick in. I didn't even notice the tiredness that much because I was having severe heart palpitations. My vision was going from normal to black and to normal again all the time. I was dizzy and desoriented and felt my heart was about to jump out of my chest, and sometimes it stopped beating for several seconds. I legit thought I might die in the audience of a debate on ethical farming.

Of course I didn't take the pills the next day and started looking for another psychiatrist. I got an appointment relatively quickly at a private one, it was relatively hopeless to get an appointment with one my insurance would pay, but I thought if she could help me, money wouldn't matter. She prescribed me some stuff that didn't do much harm but also didn't do much good. basically, i was a little tired but that was it. i got a therapist.

About 9 months passed, I had several psychiatrist appointments where I told her the meds didn't do much good, but she never really changed anything. She also insisted that I would get tested for Borderline personality disorder and the psychologist she told me to go to diagnosed me with it. My therapist at the time agreed with me that there was no way in hell that I have BPD, but she also said that when psychiatrists see an adult who self harms, BPD is the only thing that can explain that for them.

Then fall came and a new uni semester started. I had been alright over summer, I had broken up with my girlfriend, but of course with the start of the semester, everything came crashing down.

I lasted a month in university until i impulsively took the whole pack of Seroquel I still had laying around and went to the hospital telling them i was suicidal and also told them what i had done.

Now, I have to say that the nurses in this hospital were absolute angels. They treated my with respect, I almost felt mothered. I was given a lot of activated charcoal and basically had a good night in the hospital. I also got stitches for my freshest self harm injuries, but I had several ones that were too old to be treated that way.

The next morning I was transferred. Can you guess where to? The mental hospital i had been to as a teen. Again, I didn't have a choice.

But overall, the experience at the emergency ward was not as horrible as the first time. I was an adult now and actually treated like a human person. it says a lot about my first experience that I was very surprised by that.

I felt better rather quickly, mostly because the stress factory university was eliminated. The doctor there again insisted that I had BPD even when I said that was ridiculous. They evalued me again and the psychologist came to the conclusion that I had a borderline accentuation, basically borderline borderline.

The emergency ward doctor talked me into treatment at the psychotherapy ward, so I did that for 8 weeks. it was okay, again I was treated way better than as a teen. I was allowed to have an opinion about the medication, I was even allowed to read the little side effect pamphlets. But overall it didn't really do it, I self harmed less but I still self harmed.

During that stay I decided to drop out of university and start an apprenticeship as a baker. I found a company to work for, I loved work, then Corona happened. The company had to shut down. They laid me off after I had only worked there for three weeks. Basically I fell into a hole again, became a depressive husk again.

Then some time passes and a new therapist asked me why I didn't want to go to university anymore, she basically thought i was too intelligent not to. I told her how I could never focus, how I struggled with procrastination, how I couldn't handle the pressure and she recommended that I get assessed for ADHD. Now, I had suspended I had ADHD for years, but I didn't want to bring it up myself. I didn't want to seem like hypochondriac, or an attention whore, and after all, I had told so many people about my struggles and they never suspended ADHD. But I was relieved she brought it up and I had an "excuse" to get assessed. I was professionally diagnosed with ADHD soon after and happily went to my psychiatrist with my brand new diagnosis, I was full of hope that I would finally be "fixed". She basically told me she couldn't help me because she didn't know a lot about adhd. She prescribed me a very low dosage of Strattera (10 mg) and recommend me a specialist. I called the specialist, but they told me they couldn't give me an appointment and I should call in a few months, maybe it would be possible then.

It was july, and over the course of summer I decided I would try university again. Maybe if I was medicated for ADHD, I would actually be able to study. In fall of 2020, I started a brand new program, something very different from what I had done before.

I realized pretty quickly that the Strattera wasn't helping so I found a private ADHD specialist. I was extremely excited for the appointment. Again I thought "I only have to get through these few weeks, then I will finally get proper treatment" I didn't get proper treatment. He prescribed me more Strattera, which didn't help. The next appointment was a month after the first and again, I was excited. I was sure thia time he would fix me. I was sure after that appointment I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. But again, despite me saying I wanted to try something different, and that Strattera was not helping at all, he prescribed more Strattera.

Then university was getting really stressful, I had exams before Christmas, I was frustrated about him not listening to me. I started having suicidal thoughts again, I even relapsed with self harm, it had been months since the last time. But I more or less got through it in a piece, I even passed the exams (surprisingly), and was again looking forward to the next psychiatrist appointment after the Christmas vacation.

Strattera wasn't doing nothing, but it was not doing anything helpful. Basically, it made me feel quite relaxed, chill, less stressed. Which sounds good at first. But in order to get anything done, I rely on negative motivation. Basically, if I'm not panicking over possibly failing an exam, I'm just simply not going to study. So Strattera took the tiny bit of self-discipline and motivation that I had away and replaced it with a "idgaf"-attitude.Of course I told the psychiatrist. But can you guess what he did? Bingo, he upped the Strattera dosage. Again.

Then I had a second appointment with a new therapist, an ADHD specialist for adults. I told her how he did not care what I told him about Strattera and she was extremely upset and said that I can't let myself be treated like that. I needed to call him immediately and yell at him until he does something actually useful. I was baffled. I am not a confrontational person at all and I had never even considered actually arguing with a doctor. Yes I know, it sounds stupid in hindsight, but even after all that I had experienced, I still naively thought the professionals know best.

Okay so I called him. unsuccessful. I texted him. he ignored me. He had ignored my texts telling him that I was actually worse even before that last appointment, even though he told me to contact him with any concerns, and said that he prefered texts best, I thought he was maybe busy or something and didn't think much of it, but then he was ignoring my calls and texts. I was basically ghosted by a s

psychiatrist.

Okay I thought, then I'll simply go to someone else. To my suprise I got an appointment really quickly. I knew this wasn't a good sign, because good psychiatrists, if there even are any, don't have appointments free that soon.

But still, I had hope. And was of course disappointed again. I went to her with a professional ADHD diagnosis, but for her, that wasn't good enough. She had the audacity to tell me I needed another diagnosis from her psychologist friend who, by the way, has his office in a town over an hour away. She refused to treat me at all until I got that second diagnosis. Now,. I went to her out of pure desperation, out of knowing I simply could not go on like this any longer. Because I needed treatment quickly. And she told me she wouldn't give me that. I couldn't keep a few tears from escaping my eyea, she noticed and said very condescendingly "you don't have to cry, that's normal procedure". I tried my best to fight the tears, but as soon as I left her office, I started bawling my eyes out in the middle of town

And then I knew I was done. I had tried and tried again to get help, and I had not gotten it, I had not been listened to. Something in me snapped right in front of that office building.

I went home and threw my medication in the trash. Sure, it's bad to quit cold turkey like that, but honestly I don't care. I'm done. I'm done with psychiatry, I'm done with doctors. I have had the patience of a saint, but enough is enough. That was yesterday. And today I flipped a coin, twice, once for the psychiatrist and once for the new therapist. It told me to quit both of them, so I did.

I'm done with the mental health industrial complex. It has not helped me in all those years. I have only been sedated. Fuck psychiatry, fuck psychiatrists. Maybe I am simply meant to be miserable. I'll probably drop out of uni again, I thought I would be able to do it with treatment, but I did not get treatment, and I simply cannot do it this way. I've already attempted suicide because of academic pressure twice. Maybe I'll just have to live a miserable life working a low-paying job until I'm sad enough to finally actually kill myself. I'll probably always be a wreck, but at least I won't be a sedated wreck any longer. I'll be free, until I will be free for real.

Thank you for reading all this. I know it was a lot, but I needed to get it off my chest. Thank you.

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 5- Buried Remembrances

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing? Honestly I don’t know how I am doing. I had a massive breakdown just now and my mom is still yelling at me. Everything has just been a mess. So, please ignore any mistakes, and I am really sorry if it is not good. I am just not in the best state of mind rn and if I don’t post it, I will never get it done. Sorry for the ramble and I hope you still enjoy reading whatever this is 💛

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: ~2K

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, They've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul.

Ethan, Pooja and Alex were stupefied on seeing Mark's condition. He was the jolliest man they have ever known, his happy-go-lucky personality and on-point sense of humour acted as a charm on the surrounding people. This was one of the qualities which made him an amazing doctor because he could relieve patients from their sorrows and pain and make them open up.

But seeing him like this, so broken, so fragile made them realize that a smile sometimes hides a thousand scars behind it.

"Mark, listen to me!! I cannot see you like this. Please calm down. I am damn worried" Alex said, keeping tears at the brink.

"Lex, I love you. You are my strength, my power. Hell, you are my everything. Don't cry. If you cry, I won't be able to tell what I want to. And the pain will again kill me inside." Mark pleaded.

"Okay, I will try to keep as calm as possible. But, promise me, if matters start getting out of hand, you will stop." Alex said.

"Yes, Mark. If someone knows something about painful childhoods that is Ethan and me. So if you can't talk about it, you won't talk about it. We are heck worried about you, man!" Pooja said.

"I Promise. If I feel like having a nervous breakdown, I will stop. But please hear me out. These memories have stayed hidden for so long that now they feel like a burden. I need to get them out."

Then Mark began continuing his story,

"Remember when I told you in the car that I had a brother?"

"Yes, you said that. I suppose your pain was caused by your brother's death?" Ethan asked

"Ha Ha Ha" Mark let out a bitter laughter. "No, that man is not dead. Yes, my pain is caused by my brother but not by his death. By his deeds."

"He was my favourite person in the world. He was my best friend, my study partner, the person who would listen to my endless rambles. He was the only person who understood me and my thoughts. Or, at least that's what I th-th-thought."

Mark paused, face pale. Something was not right.

"Mark, are you alright? MARK!?" Alex exclaimed.

Mark was slowly losing consciousness. He said slowly, "P-P-Please t-t-take m-me-home... I-I c-can't stand b-being here."

The three sprang into action. Ethan helped Mark in the backseat of the car. Alex sat beside him, placing his head on her shoulder. Pooja sat in the passenger seat. Ethan got behind the wheel and drove to their penthouse.

After reaching, they seated Mark and tried to change the topic for him to feel better. The tension cooled down, and Mark felt better.

"You all are the damn best people in the world. I could never imagine anyone to be so concerned for me. Everybody used to see a happy face and think I am fine. But no one understood my pain like you three do." Mark said, gratitude and love shining in his eyes.

"But, I need to complete my tale. Now that I am feeling better and that we are home, I am sure there will be no more troubles."

Mark continued his story.

"Also, did I tell you that my brother was my inspiration to become a doctor? He was the first doctor in our family. When he was in Med school, he used to tell me the things he learnt. He built that interest for medicine in me."

"Wait a sec!" Pooja stopped him abruptly. "Stop me if I am over-stepping, but your brother is a doctor?! But, But-" She couldn't complete the sentence, but everyone understood what she was thinking.

"Baby, we should not jump into conclusions. Let Mark complete." Ethan stopped her from putting out her thoughts.

"Yes, my brother is or at least was a doctor. B-Before he, he..." Mark stuttered.

"Before he was arrested."

The three gasped. Mark's brother, was arrested?!

"Wait what, he was... arrested? But why? " Alex said, surprise in her tone.

"He, he was arrested for prescribing the WRONG DOSES OF MEDICINES TO HIS PATIENTS" Mark shouted, anger boiling and tears welling up in his eyes. "HE FREAKING MURDERED AT LEAST 3 OF HIS PATIENTS BECAUSE HE PRESCRIBED THEM SUPER HIGH DOSES OF THEIR DRUGS" The tears left his eyes.

"A-And he didn't stop there. He tried to k-k-kill our dad. He...He tried to inject a heavy dose of benzodiazepine to our dad." Mark completed. The horror and shock was evident on the other three's faces. Mark's brother, tried... to kill his dad? But why?

"But why in god's name did he ever do that?" Ethan asked.

"No one knows. The police questioned him for days, months, but got no reply. The only thing he used to do was laugh on their faces and tell them that he will get his revenge." Mark said.

"The day he was arrested, since that day he was considered dead by our family. But the news had a devastating effect on our family. Patients called, hurled abuses, threatened to kill. The neighbours threatened to throw us out. With my dad being sick, me and my mom had to bear it all. All this broke her. So once I got into residency, I took my mom and dad out of that horrid place and brought them to NYC with me."

"But their joy lasted less. My mom, she died within six months of transferring. My dad stayed a little longer. T-The last day of my residency was the last day of is life. And you know what were his last words?"

"What?" The other three asked in unison.

"Don't become Miles" Mark says, tears flowing down his eyes. But, as the three observed, a sense of calm spread through his face. As if a weight had been lifted, from his soul.

"So your brother's name was..."

"Miles, yaa."

"Mark, I hope you are feeling better now. Getting that all out, it must have been a hell of a pain." Pooja asked, remembering her painful childhood.

"Yes, it is. God, I needed to do this. Now I am feeling so fresh, so new. I can finally leave those dark times behind me and start leaving a new life." Mark spoke with a flicker of new hope, new life.

All the while, listening to Mark's story, Pooja was thinking about her pain. Her tale, her own story. She saw how calm and peaceful Mark was after getting it all out. Even after trying, she couldn't remember him being this peaceful, anytime before. She realized that today or tomorrow, she had to take it all out. No matter how hard she tried to bury it, it would come out.

"Mark, do you think, you-your brother could do..." Alex asked with a bit of uneasiness.

"Nothing impossible for a man who tried to kill his father. And also, I am damn sure if the card brought us to my childhood neighbourhood, it would lead to his private clinic. Only he had his practice set up there." Mark scoffed.

"We should look into that. But first we need to check on the questions we had written in our notebook. We need to complete the research as soon as possible. Mark, Lex, can you stay here for the night, we could finish it today itself if you two could be here." Ethan said.

"Yaa, we surely can. No, we would love to. You know, whose is a better tension-calmer than me, hmm? I am a humour boss." And with that, old Mark was back.

"Sure, Mark, sure. But maybe the points to the best sarcasm goes to Lex?" Ethan chuckled.

"Ohh, Ramsey. That's what makes me and Walton soulmates." Mark said, trying to pull Alex into a hug.

"Mark, SHUT UP! You know I hate hugs. I hugged you earlier because I was hecking worried. Now, hush!" Alex said, trying to hide a giggle and spectacularly failing

After a few more moments of laughter, the four set to work. They thought they would not find much about their questions on the 'net, but what they read shocked them more and more. As they got the information, they started writing it down below the respective questions.

1. Who is Mr Davis? Why was he targeted?

Richard Davis. 43. Investment banker. Originally pursuing Medicine, later went on to pursue his interest in investment banking.

2nd part: No answer

2. Why did no one from his associations never come to question about him?

No answers

3. Why did the murderer target Pooja and Alex? How does he know them?

No answer. But speculating that the murderer is Miles Danvers.

4. How was the murder committed?

Acute cyanide poisoning. Throat slit afterwards.

5. Addresses.

Address No. 1 checked, the MedMinders Store. Not checked Address 2 but is possibly Miles Danvers's private clinic.

6. MedMinders Drug Store

Checked. Valuable information received.

7. D.I.B.S.15

No Idea.

"So far, so less. We are beautifully lacking on information." Mark remarked.

"Agreed. Agreed. But wasn't this man supposed to be high-profile?" Alex said

"Maybe high-profile with full pockets. Not fame." Pooja said.

Ethan however, did not partake in the discussion. He was busy thinking something.

"Ethan? What are you thinking?" Pooja asked on seeing his furrowed eyebrows."

"I think I might know what D.I.B.S.15 means," Ethan said

"What? I mean, how? That could mean anything" Alex said, visibly surprised.

"No, not anything. I think it means, 'Davis, Investment Banker, Scam 2015" Ethan put out his thoughts.

"D, understood, I.B, understood, but S and 15? How did you deduce them to be scam 2015?" Pooja asked.

"I remember reading about it. It was one of the biggest investment scams ever. And it was speculated that some high-profile investment banker was behind it. But the real culprit was never caught." Ethan laid out his thoughts.

"So, this man is a fish of the deep waters. He is so much more than what we thought." Mark said

"And that also means that if somebody had come to know about it, then he had enough enemies. This mystery is getting tangled with every passing moment." Alex said.

While talking and discussing possible theories, they looked at the clock. 2 at night.

"Oh, dear! We have work tomorrow. God, let's get some sleep, otherwise we will be like living zombies in the halls tomorrow." Pooja said, giggling.

The four tidied up the living room, said their goodnights and went to sleep.

The nightmares began again. Pooja couldn't sleep an ounce. She was too afraid to close her eyes. The memories terrified her.

Enough. No more nightmares. No more suffering. No more sleepless nights. She was tired of feeling so powerless.

"Ethan, Ethan" She gave him a jerk.

"What is it, Poo? Are you okay, is it the nightmares again?" Ethan woke up with a start.

"I need to tell you. All about this. I cannot bear it any more." Pooja said.

"I am all ears, baby. Tell me everything. If this can make you sleep, I am ready to wake all night to listen to you." Ethan said, pulling her in his arms.

Enclosed in his arms, she laid it all in front of him. The way her mother was murdered. The way she was kidnapped when she was only 11. The terror she felt when she was all alone. The horror when she saw the bloody knife. And the heartbreak and pain she felt when it was found out to be her aunt, her mother's sister was behind all it. The disgust that she felt towards her when she revealed her sinister plans, her hunger for money.

At last, everything was out. As if she was free. As if now, there were no troubles in her life. But what happened till now was only the taste of a sinister plan. The actual dish was yet to be served.

PS: If you have come this far, I am truly grateful to you. I just hope to be at a better place the next time and be okay. But I will stop this ramble now and I hope you have a great day ahead💕   

Tags: @bbrandy2002 @kaavyaethanramsey @ohramsey  @hopelessromanticmonie @trrfanaddict @nervoussaladsludgeopera @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019@3riche @chetachisblog @starrystarrytrouble @arcticrivers @aylaramseycarrera @drariellevalentine @mvalentine​ @aestheticartsx​@angela8754​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @ao719​ @choicesstan1 @nikki-2406​ @neotericthemis​ @openheartfanfics​ @choicesficwriterscreations​

[they-callme-ami]

Double Dutch. (aka the drunk! Elijah, Aurora, black!MC and Tobias fic)

Note: This story uses lots of AAVE (African American Vernacular English) and is mostly intended for a black audience--you can still read for funsies or whatever, but I better not hear some shit about it not being inclusive or using 'improper grammar'.

Tags: @what-do-you-mean-theyre-evil @tyrils-star @melaninnntae @indescribablybre @prism-goddess

It started innocently enough: you were helping Aurora wrap her hair, pinning it up and tying the scarf around it.  Elijah rolled into the living room in his pajamas. You three were the only ones at home since you three had worked later than Jackie, Bryce and Sienna and didn’t feel like going out that night.  But y’all weren’t opposed to chillin and talkin’ shit. 

It had been a long ass day. Ethan was getting on every damn nerve you had, either talking about his mom and their strained relationship or bugging you about your cases. The man just did not leave you alone, and normally it was cool--but today he needed to back the fuck up and stop talkin shit about Tobias. It was gettin old. Not only that, but you had your own intern to deal with--which is what you were going on about now.

“I’m telling you Elijah--I love Esme but that girl is too fuckin much!  She always stay talkin back to the other attendings, nearly started a fight with another intern, and even when she asks for my advice she don’t listen! Thinkin she know everything….fuckin stubborn headass..” You sigh while twisting your hair.  

“Uh-huh. Sounds like a familiar head-ass doctor I know.  You were on trial last year, stoopid!  I know your ass not talkin bout Esme.  She’s a breeze compared to Sothy… he barely knows how to do anythin--it's a damn miracle he graduated y’know.”

“And who’s fault is that Elijah--oh, excuse me, Oracle.”  Aurora smirked and laughed as Elijah could only sit there, ultimately taking the L.

As y’all were about to go in on each other, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh! Finally, must be the package I ordered.  I hope y’all are ready to see me strut the halls in my new---”  You open the door, only to see Tobias there in some sweats with some take out food and a paper bag.

“Not a package, but I’d love to see what you plan on struttin in.”  He teased and smirked.

“SHIT---Uh---why are you here so late---”  You had your bonnet on and a big ass t-shirt with some stains on it and some basketball shorts.  It was the first time he'd seen you so casual.

"Easy there firecracker, I didn't expect you to look--what are the kids saying--'beat and snatched' 24/7." He pecked your lips and walked in. 

“I invited him Y/N. Tobias, don't ever try and say that shit again and bring me my wings.”  Aurora smiled and laughed, seeming to not be phased by her boss seeing her in a scarf and acne cream dotting her face.  Was she just so tired from work she didn’t care?  Who were you kidding, this girl was a complete trip after a long day and was just sayin ‘fuck it’.

“Elijah, I got Tobias to grab you some of that shrimp scampi from that place downtown, and Y/N--he got you your favorite cause I told him and you his new boo thing.”  Aurora smirked with a wing in hand, and Elijah playfully gagged while Tobias handed out takeout containers and handed yours over. Yup, it was your favorite dish from your favorite place.  

“Now--I was invited for 3 reasons: A.) I have a car so I could do the food run and get y’all spoiled asses some good food.  B.)  I live 5 blocks away from the liquor store so--” He held up a bottle from the bag he had--Hennessy, cause of course he’d get the most stereotypical dr--”And C.) I had to pull a double shift so I’m tired and nice enough to share some college Ramsey stories with y’all.”

So there you were, sipping on your glass and laughing as Tobias was explaining how Ethan thought that ‘double dutch’ was some kind of dessert or innuendo for a threesome with exchange students.

“Wait wait---no no you gotta be kiddin me.  Fuckin 4.0 Med school GPA Ramsey--future head of Edenbrooks Diagnostics Team--thought double dutch was some kinda play on words?  I have to laugh…” Elinah snorts. You couldn’t help but burst into whoops and hollars, laughing and even Aurora couldn’t hide the smile on her face after she almost choked on her drink.

“Uh-huh.  Even after I told him what it was, he insisted that he had to see ‘it’.  I took him to my old neighborhood, and watched four 9 year old girls school him while he nearly fell flat on his face!”  Tobias laughed and smiled as he recalled the memory.  “For someone so fuckin smart--I swear to god he’s a dumbass.  Arrogant too, he never wanted to jump rope at the gym anymore.”

Something inside you flipped on.  You took a sip of Henny and smirked.  

“Well, I knew he had the fuckin long-ass neck of a giraffe, but clearly them legs ain’t doin him a favor either.”  Tobias nearly spat his drink and crumbled on the floor into laughter, Elijah slamming his hand on the table and laughing with him.  It was taking all of Aurora’s willpower to not laugh and act a fool.  “I mean, I know he ain’t got any rhythm either!  Mothafucka was clappin OFFBEAT during Donahue’s karaoke night, but I’m supposed to trust him to count how many heartbeats a patient has.”  You joke again, and Elijah was holding his sides.

“Fuck---he---Y/N shut the hell up!”  Tobias laughed and playfully pushed your shoulder.  “Pass me the damn bottle….y’all lemme tell you somethin worse than that--his cooking.  The man can’t stay on beat let alone beat a fuckin egg.  Y/N--tell ‘em bout the chicken.”

“He---He invited me home after work or somethin--and he wanted me to help him with this recipe he saw for chicken.  Y’all, it was the BLANDEST ass recipe I ever saw in my life.  I was terrified to eat whatever the fuck he was makin, it was so bad his dad even helped out and said how it needed some proper seasoning.  I had never seen an old man so disappointed in such an empty spice cabinet.  I had to leave.”  You snicker as you retell the story.  “Even worse?  He tried to bring me some leftovers afterwards and by god was that mothafucka dry as HELL---y’know what, lemme calm down cause I am not about to yell over some bland ass chicken.”  You chugged down the Henny and grabbed the bottle to pour another glass.

“Y’know….for someone who seemed real eager to stuff a chicken, he cannot seem to tell he got a stick stuffed far up his ass.  No wonder he walks around like an emotionally constipated man-baby.”  Aurora said with a straight face as she chugged her own drink.  You turned away, laughing and doing a spit take as Tobias slammed his fist on the table, snorting while Elijah simply was in awe at Aurora’s words. 

 “My first week there, I was assigned to Y/N and cause my auntie was makin me give her full on oral essays of every case I had, I missed out on one of ours and nearly let a patient die.  Now---his ass knows this.  He knows exactly who the fuck I am and who the fuck my aunt is.  And what did he do?  Chewed me out without a second thought.  I was *this* close to curb stomping his ass I swear--He even called Y/N amature after saving someone’s life because it ‘was sloppy’ and ‘wasn’t professional enough’.  And another thing--” 

You watched Aurora stand up, Henny in her hand, and just goin off on Ethan.  She was tearing into him, from him being able to get off the hook for punching Declan, verbally avicerating innocent interns, being all high and mighty--man, she hated his ass.  Elijah was just eating his scampi, vibing and Tobias was smiling like a proud parent, eating his burger. 

 “He gon have the nerve--the audacity--the CAUCASITY to assume that I’M trippin because I told him about Landry being all rude and dismissive of one of his black-female patients.  He nearly put ME on probation for helping deliver the baby properly when Landry prescribed her the wrong treatment for something cause neither of them will ever fuckin LISTEN and--”  You could not have been any more impressed.  You were just soaking it all in.  She finally sat back down and ate some of her wings.

Tobias sighs and grins.  “Damn. Elijah, you been real quiet...you wanna add your two cents?” he asks while Tobias took a big gulp and sat the glass back down.  He took a deep breath.

“No, no….I just want his long-neck-headass, mommy-didn’t-love-me-so-I’m-a-lil-bitch-headass, grudge-holding-grown-ass-man-headass, lemme-insult-my-interns-headass, pompous, privileged, irritating, high and oh so fuckin’ mighty ass to humble himself and learn to get his head and the stick he got outta his ass.  It ain’t cute to just bash everyone around you cause yo ass is feelin like Hamilton, ‘smartest in the room’ mofo.”  He said, all very calmly while finishing his drink.   You, Tobias and Aurora just exchanged a look….and broke out into a fit of laughs and smiling. 

A few drinks later and a hella amount of roasts later, you were cuddled up with Tobias while Elijah laid out on Aurora's lap. 

"Damn…..we really been up for hours now. Jackie and Sienna still out…" Elijah piped up and checked his phone. "They're at Bryce's place, having a 'girls night' with Keiki and sleepin over…..ooooo, Tobias should sleep over too!" He showed y'all a photo Sienna sent. 

"Uh-huh, you should! We can watch movies and... oh Elijah your hair is sooooo soft." Aurora smiled and was playfully twisting it. Seems like the drinks were finally hitting.  Tobias could tell too.

He managed to help Elijah back in his wheelchair and followed his directions to his room.  He came back out to you helping Aurora to her room.

"Byyyye boss. See ya at work! If you do stay over, y'all better be quiet while he rearrange them guts!" She poked you laughing as you rolled your eyes and got her in bed.  You walked back out, feeling tipsy yourself and plopped on the couch...with Tobias.

"Y'know….your friends definitely know how to go all in on a roast session. I found out shit about Ethan I didn't know till now."

"Mhmmmm….Henny is….is a miracle worker…" you slurred and laughed, laying up on him. "And yoooooouuu….are a fine-ass pillow." 

Before you succumbed to the exhaustion and hennessy, you felt Tobias's lips peck your cheek gently and his arms hold you tight against him.

The next day at work, you were taking your break and went outside to the courtyard...much to your surprise you found a few children--presumabley patients-- playing double dutch with some jump rope.

"Apples, peaches, pears, and plums

Tell me when your birthday comes! 1! 2! 3! 4!"

They were counting along as you hopped inside the rope, showing off a bit and laughing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ethan walking towards the building.

"Hey, Ethan, wanna join? It may not be a dessert or two dutch girls--but it'll be fun!" You called out and teased while working the ropes. You could see his face turn red from where you were, and him muttering softly about Tobias. You couldn't help but laugh as you kept skipping and hopping away.

[brooklynislandgirl]

For the headcanon{s}, can you talk about Beth's mental illness? How it does and does not impact her daily life, if things trigger it, how she handled this after losing Riley {in verses that are sans Riley, obviously}, and what some of her experiences have been? I feel like it's something people determinedly overlook about her, and I'd like to know!

This.

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious!”

“You keep a civil tongue in that head of yours, boy. I think I know what’s best for your sister.”

“With all due respect, sir... you haven’t known what’s best in-”

Beth is an oyster.

Vague lines and curves that are nothing remarkable perhaps to the point of being unappealing. She can only burrow into the Sand....sandy...Andy. Andy and the Admiral are outside of the room, arguing about the proper course of treatment. She can’t hear every word because she’s underwater and all the sounds are so far away as to be indistinct from the beeping of the monitor that is keeping track of her vital signs. The bandages on her pseudo-pods ~arms, they’re arms, Beth~ are too heavy. They keep her trapped to this bed where she can’t really move and she doesn’t know why. It’s all wriggling around inside of her. A parasite. One she has to wrap in smooth layers of aragonite and conchiolin. Layer after microscopic crystalline layer. Maybe if it’s smooth enough and round enough, maybe if it has enough lustre, then they will set her free. She’s so very tired but she doesn’t have her turtle, and the thin cotton gown isn’t warm enough, worn thin in places. The blankets are too scratchy and the air smells funny, too many chemicals that it’s making her feel nauseous.

But that’s all wrong. Oysters don’t have blankets and they aren’t tied down to beds and they don’t... they don’t...

“Electroshock! How can you? Look at her. She’s just a kid!”

“And your sister nearly killed herself tonight, Andrew. I am done discussing this with you. I’m your father, and a neurosurgeon. If anyone is capable of choosing a treatment plan, it isn’t a teen age boy.”

~*~

Beth was fourteen years old when she was diagnosed however wrongly with Depression mood disorder with features of psychosis, after she smashed her bedroom mirror with her fists, deeply slashing her arms from wrists to elbows. The symptoms leading up to this moment certainly were red-flags for what was wrong with her, all of them classic to the specific diagnosis: the trouble concentrating or making decisions, chronic fatigue, feelings of guilt and worthlessness, insomnia, restlessness, loss of appetite, phantom aches and pains that didn’t seem to go away, persistent sadness and anxiety. It isn’t uncommon for girls and young women diagnosed with Turner Syndrome to also develop depression. And her father felt the matter was cut and dry, despite strenuous objections from her brother.

She spent three miserable weeks in an in-patient psychiatric facility receiving less than pleasant electroconvulsive therapy, psychotherapy and was prescribed citalopram {Celexa}. Which made Beth absolutely nauseous to the point that she had trouble keeping water down, only worsened her sleeping troubles, and made her jittery. As soon as the Admiral shipped out again for a year long deployment aboard the USNS Comfort, Andy took her back to the doctor to get a second opinion.

It was then, at fifteen, that she was re-diagnosed correctly with Rapid Cycling Bi-Polar Disorder. Andy nursed her through the withdrawal of the citalopram and taking over her care regiment seemed to do his sister wonders, as she started to be the sweet and gentle girl he’d always known her to be. He’d sort out her medication by days of the week, would make sure she took the right ones at the right times with her meals, going out of his way to cook things she could stomach, letting her sleep in his bed when she wanted to, and for years after, she seemed to improve. She went months without crippling depression and her manic and hypomanic states were few and far between as well.

Then everything changed.

Beth was accepted into several universities and chose Columbia, knowing that their pre-med program was top-notch and their medical school was even better, and wouldn’t require her to change schools for the duration of her education. Having just turned sixteen in June she was starting a new life perhaps far younger than she ought to have.

There was major upheaval, stress and abject terror at leaving Hawai’i behind, going almost as far away as possible. She was not prepared for the cross-continent move. Neither was she prepared for living on her own. Perhaps she simply expected to live with Andy the whole of her life, or at the very least through her under-grad years. But after the initial first two months that it took to move into their grandparents’ apartment in Brooklyn, and Andy setting up all of her bills, hiring a cook and house keeper, making sure she got settled in as a freshman, he enlisted in the US Air-Force. She saw very little of her brother for the next two years, and the only thing that kept Beth from failing out of school was the idea that she would be sent home to live with the Admiral.

She began to notice that her medication {bupropion aka Wellbutrin} seemed less effective during this time. She was barely getting more than three hours of sleep at night, and maybe half that during day time naps. She experiences bouts of nausea that once again made eating difficult to prioritise, a feature that would last her entire life thus far, with Beth being at least twenty pounds consistently underweight. She also began to experience chronic sore throats, what she describes as her bladder shrinking down to the size of a pea, and worse...tinnitus that became co-morbid with her audio processing disorder. 

The few times during the year that she was able to see Andy, things seemed to get better....until she crashed immediately after he left again.

Beth decided she no longer wanted to take her medication.

~*~

“C’mon Beth, I’m getting married, it’s not like I’m dying!”

“GET OUT! GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!” She’s throwing things at him. She’s destroyed seven plates,six coffee mugs and at least one irreplaceable vase. There are so many tears, so much snot, it’s hard to believe his sister is almost eighteen and not eight. But thankfully, she’s still so short she can’t reach the stemware and is forced to come out from behind the island kitchen.

Which means he manages to get his arms around her, a bear hug from behind that locks her stick-figure arms to her chest. She fusses and has a fit, kicking and trying to bite him, but his training in Pararescue has taught him how to hold someone without hurting them.

“I’m not gonna leave you, jelly bean, I promise. And you’ll like Lana. She’s a real nice girl, her family’s from Jersey, and she’ll be moving in with us. You won’t have to-” “LA LA LA! NO CAN HEAR YOU!”

Beth is a hermit crab.

She can just shrink back into her shell and keep everyone out. She can hide down in the bottom of the sea and let the water of her Mother’s arms wash over her and if anything gets close, she’ll pinch them to bits.

But she really isn’t. She isn’t a hermit crab, she’s just a girl and there’s nothing that can keep everything inside of her from dying a slow and painful death. Because now Andy is not only not going to be around, but he’s getting married. To a stranger no less. But like a hermit crab, her house is too small and this woman is never setting foot inside of it. And it’s his stupid fault, because that’s what her brother is...stupid.

Doesn’t he know that no one will love him like she does? That no one depends on and needs him as much? Doesn’t he know they’re supposed to be together, forever and always? Doesn’t he know he’s the only person who truly loves her? The person who said he’d never leave her? Why does he need a wife anyway? She can do everything this Lana person can, and better. If he’d just let her prove it, he’d see!

~*~

But he didn’t. Andy ended up getting married.

Beth dropped out of medical school before completing her residency, but applied her credits to nursing. She was absolutely certain the Admiral was going to have a stroke that she had decided not to become a neurosurgeon like him, or his second choice, a cardiologist. Emergency room nursing suits her needs. She is indoors and on her feet throughout the darkness of the night when home is ever so lonely. It feeds the excessive energy that floods her system and lets her literally crash, semi-conscious during the sometimes three, sometimes four consecutive days she has off.

Life settles into a medication-less routine. Beth finally grows her final inch in height, puts on a few more pounds so she doesn’t seem nearly as cadaverous as she did before. She can blame late occurring puberty for that and for just the most brief moments of time, things seemed to have found their balance. There were no great highs. There were no life-threatening lows. Beth could finally breath.

At least until....the sun burned out and destroyed everything in a single knock on the door.

Perfunctory words that echo in her dreams.

~*~

“Miss Riley, on behalf of the Chief of Staff, United States Air Force, I regret to inform you of the untimely death of your brother, Second Lieutenant Andrew M. Riley-”

Beth Riley...isn’t anything any more.  All of everything that was bright and best within her is now a single leg and some bone fragments in a beautiful koa wood casket. It is a folded flag put into her hands. It’s the reception in the Admiral’s house and an incredibly long line of people talking and talkingandtalkingandtalkingandtalking and saying nothing at all. She can’t breath. She can’t feel. Nothing makes sense and it never will because what do you say when half of you is ripped away and gone forever? What do you do when the world stops turning and the sun has burnt out of the sky?

Beth slips out of the house without being noticed. She manages to get in her brother’s Mustang and heads into the city proper, and ends up at the bar he used to like to frequent when he was on leave. She sits at the bar and orders scotch, 25 year Macallan.

She buys the bottle. She buys the entire bar drink after drink until last call.

She lets someone take her home. Gets into his apartment. Doesn’t really feel his mouth and his hands pawing at her. Doesn’t feel anything really at all until she shoves him away. Things become blurry after that and she only really vaguely remembers calling Jay from a payphone some blocks away.

She can’t find her shoes. But that doesn’t matter.

Nothing does.

Three months later ~one hundred days, to be precise~ Beth quits her job. She turns her utilities off. Throws a few things including her wallet, her passport, and her rosary into a sea bag that she’s had forever. 

Darfur. The Democratic Republic of Congo. Amsterdam. Uruguay. Wherever Médecins Sans Frontières will let her go, to treat people living in the worst conditions. Ironic, isn’t it...that no matter where she goes, Beth always manages to make it back. That all those fears Andy had of her killing herself from neglect or inattention, or even possibly through deliberate action, and she can’t get so much as a life-threatening paper cut? It isn’t fair.

And maybe...maybe it doesn’t matter. There’s a lot of ways you can die in Louisiana.

She hears the coffee in New Orleans is really wonderful.