#i refuse to get things only partially just because of language barrier

[lanzhanlanzhan]

Okay but seriously though, something has been bothering me and I hope someone can help me brainstorm on this.

We know that Lan Wangji is a man of a few words. This somehow translated into the English fandom by using as few words as possible for him, to the point of dropping elements in a sentence for the sake of brevity. The problem is, while I can imagine this technique working in the few Asian languages I am familiar with (which rely a lot on context and reading between the lines and so can survive without a subject or direct object), in English this just feels akward and/or unnatural. English, in my opinion, is just not built this way.

I remember someone saying somewhere that non-Chinese speakers are losing out, because Lan Wangji's speech in Chinese is concise and poetic. Poetic. It is this alleged poetry that bothers me the most, because I am such a whore fan whore when it comes to the musicality of language. There is art that goes into syntax, we have figures of speech, etc. I am crying, I have hoarded poetry books since childhood and you are telling me that Lan Wangji, our beloved Hanguang-jun, has speech like poetry? Thinking about it now, it does make sense—music practically flows through the man's veins! Of course he must have an ear for it! I need to see this!

Listen. I refuse to believe that this art and musicality in Lan Wangji's speech cannot be translated into English. Brevity is a discipline practiced even in English poetry. English has a rich vocabulary, it also has idioms and figures of speech. Maybe writing Lan Wangji just means balancing the correct word for a thing, have it sound good in a sentence, and getting one's point across as efficiently as possible. There is even such a thing as characters speaking in iambic meter (e.g. Solas from Dragon Age), and surprisingly enough this forces one to make efficient sentences. Or maybe he would speak with alliterations? Use references to well-known sayings and parables? Personally I really love this idea. It is probably just like Lan Wangji to do such things, too, considering how he can sit still for an entire month in the Library Pavilion, loving books enough to have the skills to be a scribe. He knows music and he is well-read. You can take this headcanon from my cold and dead fingers, do you hear me?

TL;DR Lan Wangji's speech is an art form, his entire character is grace personified and this probably gets even better the moment he opens his mouth. How will he speak in English I mean Lan Wangji stans 👏 we 👏 need 👏 to 👏 figure 👏 this👏 out

[scripttorture]

In a prison scenario, is there any research on what best prevents people from trying to escape? Good living conditions where they're being held & serious consequences for escaping are two that come to mind, but I'm not certain if those are just tropes. Also, if someone escaped and was severely punished, would they likely try to stop others from escaping? Or assist them so they wouldn't get caught? (Character is mute & must communicate via action, so it's not as simple as explaining it to others)

I haven’t read any research on preventing prison escapes but I find it hard to believe that there isn’t any. I’ve got a grand total of one book specifically on prisons (most of the books I have are on torture or abuse more widely and cover incidents in prisons). The book is Prison Worlds by Fassin, I’m not sure what I think of it yet.

 It talks about escape attempts once. The passage references escape attempts using explosives. It cites one ‘successful’ attempt (the prisoner was free for a grand total of six weeks before recapture) and one unsuccessful attempt (the door held). The larger context is the search for explosives in a cell after a tip off that prisoners were trying to escape using the same method. Nothing was found.

 The overall impression I get from what I’ve read is that successful escapes are pretty rare in the modern day. And how common they were historically depended on context.

 Generally, there isn’t any clear evidence that ‘harsher’ punishments result in a drop in crime. Or rather- there isn’t any evidence that this is the predominant factor.

 Let me give a few examples here to illustrate the point.

 Both India and Pakistan have (at least in theory) strong punishments in place for sexual violence and rape. Sentencing goes up to the death penalty and there is (theoretically) an automatic life imprisonment for some crimes, especially against minors.

 Campaigners believe this has caused a drop in convictions. It has led to courts letting more rapists go free.

 The way that works is pretty simple: the sentencing is seen as so harsh that police, juries and judges do not think defendants ‘deserve’ the punishment, even if they’re believed to be guilty. Less people are brought to court (ie in cases of gang rape it’s common for only one suspect to be charged), more people are acquitted.

 In contrast Kara’s research on sex trafficking strongly suggests that higher sentencing does have a deterrent effect in this case. That’s because his economic based research shows a pretty clear link between price and demand. It also shows that the potential profits for abusers and slavers are incredibly high and are not really dented by the penalties in most countries.

 My instinct here is that any form of corporal punishment in a prison setting could easily have the opposite effect. It could encourage escape attempts and would encourage resistance.

 Decent conditions inside the prison are- well bad prison conditions are often treated as a form of punishment or as part of the punishment. Things like poor heating/cooling conditions, inadequate shelter, not enough food or water, poor quality food, over crowding, lack of hygiene facilities and so forth- I’d argue they should be treated as a form of corporal punishment. Especially since they’re often used as torture, explicitly or implicitly.

 If living conditions are intolerable and prisoners are routinely abused they are going to try to escape. They’re also more likely to attack the guards and attempt suicide. They’re also more likely to attack each other.

 But honestly? I suspect the biggest barriers to escape attempts are physical ones. Walls, rivers, cliffs, fences, locked doors.

 I’d also include natural barriers in this category. People who know that escape means death by starvation or dehydration or exposure are unlikely to make the attempt unless living conditions in the jail are very bad.

 Returning to the earlier point I mentioned briefly about context- I can think a lot of successful historical escapes from jails, prisons, slavery etc. The impression I get was that these were still rare at the time and they mostly involved systematic flaws.

 Jack Sheppard’s escapes were impressive. But he was alive during a period where most shackles could be opened by a sharp strike to the hinge or a loose nail. He was small and imprisoned in cells designed for larger men.

 Escapes from slavery, both in modern times and historically, should be considered in light of the fact there are usually far more slaves then guards and physical barriers are- often not well maintained.

 What I’m driving at here is that people take advantage of opportunities to escape. They also weigh their options. The situation would have to be pretty dire in prison for a person to choose to walk off into the desert away from the only source of water for miles.

 I think that brings me to the character’s situation.

 Both responses are possible. Even if the severe punishment constitutes torture.

 Torture does produce an entrenched opposition to the torturer and their ‘side’. But that doesn’t necessarily create the altruism to help other people.

 Even with an altruistic character there are plenty of reasons why a torture survivor might choose not to help. Incapacity for instance- which can be due to the long term psychological symptoms of torture as well as physical injury.

 Someone who is depressed generally has less energy to spare helping others, which makes helping people more difficult. Insomnia, another common long term symptom, often means people are too tired, too disoriented and too ill to help as much as they might like. Hypervigilance and panic attacks might result in someone being actively excluded however much they want to help- on the basis that a highly visible symptom might draw more attention to a group.

 Another reason could be the risk. The character might agree with the idea of wanting to escape but think the plan isn’t good enough.

 They might not trust some of the people planning the escape.

 Now I don’t tend to use muteness in my stories, but I have made characters as ineloquent as possible (or put a language barrier between them) in order to make sure they speak with their actions. So- I appreciate what you’re trying to do here and how difficult it can be.

 My way of approaching this sort of problem is to work out what’s most likely for the character first and then work out how to show that. But I’m getting the impression that that’s not how you work. And that’s absolutely OK. There isn’t a ‘right’ way to approach writing. If starting with the actions helps, then do that.

 Wanting to help but being too ill is probably the easiest one to set a course of action for. But- it could also be one of the more painful options to write because you’re setting the character up to fail. This one is a case of finding ways to show them trying and failing.

 Showing that the character thinks the plan is too risky is a little trickier. Here’s how I’d do it.

 I’d have the group approach the character for help and have the character clearly refuse. But after that the character hangs around them a lot. Not in the same group or even particularly near but in the same room or near to the room. And then the first few times the group do something that’s likely to get them caught the character is there.

 Not with an active solution or anything that could be taken as obvious cooperation- but when it looks like a guard might be taking interest suddenly the mute character has ‘clumsily’ upset a cleaning cart and soap suds are flooding the floor. When someone’s getting close to a hiding place the mute character suddenly discovers their snacks are missing and This Means War.

 You get the idea. A sort of inconsistent, background assistance at the most valuable moments. Coupled with a continued refusal to become more actively involved.

 Not trusting some of the group could be shown with a similar sort of partial-assistance. Refusal to take part in general and acts that help specific group members while ignoring others.

 I haven’t talked about agreeing to help because the kind of acts you want the character to there should be pretty obvious. This is a perfectly realistic option and if you’re not sure you can get across the character’s motivation for refusing I’d say it’s preferable. Because it avoids any suggestion that ill treatment has made the character passive or obedient.

 It’s harder to get across a character’s motivations and the nuance of their thoughts when they can’t communicate directly. But it’s perfectly possible.

 I think one of the main things you need to decide here is whether that’s something you want to try writing. Does the story have space to not just show the character’s actions but explore why they’re acting the way they are?

 I hope this helps. :)

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[rebelwheelssoapbox]

Why Is Governor Cuomo Attacking Disabled New Yorkers Like Me? (And What You Can Do About It)

In 2018, my body developed Dysphagia (a condition where easily swallowing food and water, is not really an option.) Meanwhile, my brain, apparently feeling like the first one needed a friend, grew a second brain cyst. As a result, I became mostly bed bound and spent a good portion of my summer in a hospital and then eventually in a rehab/nursing home.

When I was in these environments, I only got worse. Both places struggled to accommodate my particular dietary needs (in fact I lost even more weight while there), they had absolutely zero training in regard to processing disorders (as my brain is on the spectrum), and refused to let me use my motorized wheelchair with spine support (which my spine needs), forcing me to either stay in bed all day or attempt to use their manual wheelchair which was harmful to my spine (as it lacked the spine support that it requires), and was utterly exhausting to my muscles. It was to the point where several times, I went from mostly bed bound to totally bed bound. Furthermore, in the 3 weeks that I was in the nursing home, I received a total of two showers. Sometimes I got a partial “sponge bath” where they hastily “washed” maybe (at best) 1/5th of your body, but never washed the soap off which really irritated your skin. Thankfully, I transitioned from the nursing home to my apartment, as I knew that with proper services, I could live in my home and in my chosen community. That's when I started to apply for medicaid and specifically CDPA, a program that would allow me to choose who I hire and work with as my PCA (or personal care attendant).

[a photo of myself in my hospital bed, post voting on Election Day. It wore me out, but with the assistance of my CDPA PCA, I was able to do it. Image of a disabled woman with spastic arms holding up a “I Voted” sticker, as she lays on her hospital bed with purple sheets. She is wearing headphones to reduce the noise.] The word in the disability community was that CDPA was the way to go, and it makes sense. After all, if you must rely on people to feed and bathe you, wouldn't you want a say in who does that? Wouldn't you feel safer interviewing the candidates beforehand and having a voice in who is allowed into your home? Having input as to who is in charge of your health? With traditional services, you do not have a say in any of this. I know this because at one point, while in the process of setting up CDPA, due to bureaucratic hoopla, I was somewhat forced into traditional services (it was either that or have them close my case and re-apply for Medicaid all over again - which was not much of an option as the process takes so long as it is).

[a photo of myself as The Woman’s March before the setback. I am wearing a cat hat and a holding a protest sign that reads “Disabled People Don’t Want Your Pity. We Just Want Out Rights.”] In addition to basically having to let total strangers into my home, all the PCAs that the agency sent to me, were not fluent in English, to the point where I could not communicate my needs (and they could not communicate theirs). I once asked if I could please have a popsicle. I was brought an apple. I said “no, no, it's in the freezer.” but as much as this person tried, they did not know the word. But it went beyond that. Because the PCAs and I could not fully communicate with each other, they didn't understand that they needed to clean the humidifier daily (which was essential as it kept the dysphagia at bay, and helped me with my breathing). As a result, not only did they partially damage the humidifier (due to a lack of cleaning), but my dysphagia got worse. At one point, I actually started to choke on my food, but because of the communication barrier, the weekend PCA did not understand what was happening. And cognitive exercises? Something I need on a daily basis (as I am prone to cognitive down slide) - that just was not happening. In fact, similar to when I was at the nursing home/hospital, the people did not understand neurodivergency, and cognitively I only got worse. But probably one of the most harrowing experiences, was when a friend of mine was over and I decided now was a good time to try a shower with the weekday PCA, who at this point, I did not totally feel safe with. How can I communicate my rules about consent if there was a language barrier between us? How could I feel safe when she would sometimes think it was funny when my speech impediment was in effect (as if it impacted my credibility. It does not.) On top of that, with my processing disorder, where I can not process information in real time, I could not always process what was happening to me and communicate my needs in real time. But it had been weeks since I had a shower, (unlike when I have CDPA, where showers and proper sponge baths happen on a regular basis) and I figured with my friend here, she could help advocate if necessary. And thank god, she was there! There I was in the shower, and the PCA was scrubbing my skin so harshly, that it was physically painful. It was so overwhelming on a sensory level and traumatic! Even my friend, seeing what was happening said “Why are you being so rough with her?!” and told her to be more gentle, but she didn't understand nor stop. I cried so hard when it was done and refused to shower till I was able to transition back to CDPA.

[original artwork that I made at the time. I felt so frustrated and powerless - especially since I knew if I could get back on CDPA, it wouldn’t be like this. original artwork showing an angry face ] But (in my experience) that is traditional services. I can try to request another person, but they sent me three people within a short period of time, and while some were nicer than others, this was pretty much the standard. With CDPA, I am in charge of the hiring process. I can hire someone based on their experience and compatibility. I can ask about what are their views on disability and not hire someone who is condescending and/or rough with me. With CDPA you can even hire a family member or friend, who understands your needs but won’t go bankrupt in the process of caring for you, because they will get paid to do so. With traditional services, I have no say who I get. With traditional services, they don't send you someone based on your needs. They send you a person – anyone who is available to cover that shift. Thankfully, after the people that I hired were fully registered, I was able to transition back to CDPA. I now have two lovely PCAs who have experience with people with processing disorders, who are creative and work with me to do cognitive exercises. And because in NYC, they are paid more than the traditional service PCAs, they are happier and put more effort into their work. As a result, I feel safe again. I can relax again. I can go back to focusing on getting stronger, and doing things that bring me joy, so I can improve my standard of living, so I can lead a full and fulfilling life. In my experience, I would not be able to do that with traditional services, where my energy was put towards just barely getting by.

[a photo of myself laying in my hospital bed with purple sheets. I am wearing a narwhal adult onesie, and reading “Howl” by Allen Ginsberg.] So you might imagine the near panic and heartbreak that I felt when I read that “ Governor Cuomo is looking to end the Consumer Directed Personal Assistance (CDPA) program as we know it today. Worse yet, his attacks on the program go so far as putting the entire fate of the program in the hands of Washington, now going on a month of their shutdown.“ After taking a deep breath, I asked Gregg Beratan from CDRNYS what exactly are the details of this change, and what can the people can do about it: “Long story short: This budget will repeal the law that made CDPA and replace it with a stripped down version that eliminates 9 out of every 10 FIs [fiscal intermediaries] in the state. The ultimate goal is to move to ONE FI for all of New York. So if the agency is one of the 10% that survives initially, they will not be around long." This is a total nightmare. One of the many benefits of CDPA, is that you have the option to shop around and get the best living wage (as different FI’s or fiscal intermediaries offer varying wages) for the people you hire. Having the ability to offer a proper wage, isn’t just a matter of worker solidarity (though that is most definitely part of it.) It is far easier to keep a good worker when they can financially support themselves on the pay they are given. A low wage means more employee turn over and more disgruntled workers, which increases the risk of abuse. Gregg went on to explain that if things move forward as Cuomo plans, and “If your FI opened its doors after January 1, 2012 or is not an independent living center it will be out of business immediately.” The FI that I have chosen fits into this category! Does Cuomo not understand how CDPA works? Does he not care about disabled New Yorkers & the people that work for them? “If the federal government does not approve the new version of this law, there will be no CDPA at all. Even if the program gets through Washington, in an unprecedented move, the new law gives the Commissioner of Health absolute power in determining it's continued existence. The benefit could stop immediately at any time if they do not think the reimbursement they are getting is "adequate." Jesus Christ!

[These attacks on my community is so draining! original artwork showing a sad face] Alright, this is not over yet. We can take action (and please - in the name of decency and solidarity, take action) TAKE ACTION: “First - Call Governor Cuomo at 518-474-8390. Tell him "Consumer directed personal assistance lets me live my life, on my terms, in my community. Your changes would send me to a nursing home. End your attack on seniors and the disabled today! Stop attacking CDPA." (Or if you’re not disabled, tell him "Consumer directed personal assistance lets disabled people live their life, on their terms, in their community. Your changes would send them to a nursing home. End your attack on seniors and the disabled today! Stop attacking CDPA." etc. ) If you are unable to make a phone call, you can use Resist Bot. TXT the word RESIST to 50409 & follow directions. Resist Bot will send the message to your politician(s) of choice. “Second - [if you are able] Get ready for a trip to Albany! February 11 is our Legislative Day in Albany. Meet us at 10:00 in the Well of the Legislative Office Building. Apply for a scholarship and we may be able to help with some or all of your travel. “ Third - Contact your Representatives. YOU elected them. YOU need to make sure they are here to fight for you. They care about your stories and your experiences. That is in fact what will let us win.” So, there it is. Whether you are disabled or not, please take a moment to contact Cuomo and tell him Hands Off The CDPA! Because in these times, no oppressed group (such as the disability community) should be left behind.

[an-exotic-writer]

jungkook; my online sweetheart

❝ who would’ve known that jungkook would fall in love with someone online? and what more when he falls harder when he meets them in person? ►5816 words // scenario, onlinefriends!au, prompt-based ♡ it feels weird writing a scenario after so long but it feels nice being able to write scenarios again! i hope you guys like it! ;w;

Jungkook was a firm believer that one day, everything on the internet could save the world. Then he comes across someone who’s telling him he either has a point or he has his head shoved up in his ass to think such a thing. The conversation sparks off from there, an anonymous chatroom server made for people to ramble on their thoughts and Jungkook finds himself immersed to… ‘therealunknown’. Strange, weird… just the way I like it, Jungkook smirks.

His fingers move to reply whoever who said that to him, that ‘you’re either smart enough to say that or you’re smart enough to think you’re smart enough to say that’. 

Jungkook, or, Jeon97, hits send.

jeon97 [9.31PM]: what? you don’t think the world could be solved with the things on the internet?

therealunknown is typing…

Jungkook waits by the edge of his seat, folded arms in front of the screen as he waits for the three dots hopping turns to stop and dings to a reply for him.

therealunknown [9.32PM]: i mean, there’s just certain things you can’t get on the internet like you do in real life.

Without missing a beat, Jungkook jumps on the bandwagon of curiosity, and partial debate.

jeon97 [9.34PM]: like what??

Jungkook laughs the same time a new text line appears and he’s never sent a friend request so fast in his life.

therealunknown [9.35PM]: pardon my language but pizza and mother fucking fried chicken, my dude.

//

Minutes of waiting by his phone spans out to the hours he’d laugh the more he gets to know of… therealunknown. And when days pass by with familiarity greeting his screen, it soon morphs into a name he can paint the person who somehow connects with him beyond the digital spectrum. How his heart is more than willing to open up to someone thousands of miles away than people he sees every day. Or how his mind is able to tell him that this person who’s replying him as of now, isn’t possibly a serial killer.

When those gathered days turns into months of brutal and honest banter back and forth on how he still is wrong on the first statement he’s said on the first day or how he tells what the unknown claims to be that pizza and chicken isn’t a valid meal unless you want to die early, Jungkook introduces himself as Jungkook and therealunknown… has a name and that is - “Y/N, what’s taking you so long? Stop fixing your bra and just get your damned tea,” Jungkook’s more than just impatient, even tapping his microphone because he knows that makes it echo on the other end that accompanies with your why I oughta!

Crinkled eyes of happiness with a gummy grin is displayed on your screen, past your irritated expression with the rolling of your eyes. Jungkook remains smiling, resting his chin on his arms crossed in front of his screen as he watches you settle down to get comfortable. When you have your cup of tea in possession, warmth pressed to your palms, Jungkook drinks in your smile as you look at his camera window, where his smile illuminates your room.

“How was your day?”

Much more better now, Jungkook chuckles, watching as the crescents in your eyes accompanies the full moon blooming in his heart but chooses to answer with: “Eh, could’ve been worse.”

//

Months gathers in the hands of someone who just wants to be in the present moment with you and Jungkook feels the exact same. Sure, being connected spiritually is ounces better than just a person who’s just existing with you. But there’s just things that you can’t solve with the internet and this is your point why since day one, Jeon Jungkook. 

Said person sighs when he sees you frowning, continuously tapping on your webcam so it makes a thudding sound into his ears.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

On any other day, you’d joke about it and poke fun at your own feelings. Today, you’re laying them out flat for Jungkook to feel and he doesn’t know if he’s grateful to know you’re feeling that way or if he feels attacked at how raw and personal your confession is to his own beating like a reminder he’s so far away from you.

“You not being here,”

Jungkook frowns when he sees it on your face and he’s threatened to beat up many, many people who happens to be the cause of it but he would’ve never imagined he would be one of them. He argues in his mind if he should make a joke about banging his face against the wall or doing a somersault in a pool of jello but decides to stay quiet when the both of you let your feelings consume the best of you.

It sucked being able to connect with someone so well despite the distance barrier and it was a bittersweet feeling that clung to your gut with one day, just… not today. But Jungkook wouldn’t have found you intriguing if you let it end on such note. He sits up when he sees a spark of idea flashes in your eyes, displayed in the eagerness of how you put your tea away to straighten your back and stare at him.

“Hey Jeon,”

“Hm?”

“Your break is coming soon, right?”

He laughs first, “Yeah? I mean, a reminder that my finals is literally tomorrow Y/N and I’m here talking to you so what the fuck?”

You roll your eyes, waving a hand to dismiss the fact that he might fail but that usually never happens.

“Shut up and let me get to my point,”

“You’ll literally get everything if I actually shut up,”

You’re grabbing onto your laptop and giving it a shake and it’s scary that Jungkook feels his heart doing the same. He bites down his smile, eyes unable to hide the fact he’s trying not to smile, “Jeon shut the fuck up and let me speak,” 

He snorts, but relents as he lets you say your piece.

Throughout your whole rambling that garners into a solid fool-proof plan of him being able to finally see you, Jungkook gets lost in your enthusiasm and the energy that he feeds off on. His mind goes blank when you ask him what do you think? Gulping, he shifts a little and tries to save his ass but he can’t when you call him out on spacing out and not listening to what you’ve been talking on about. Yet, you don’t get mad.

You show the opposite that strums with his heartstrings he wishes to play them loud and clear for you to hear. He clears his throat and shakes his head when you ask if something’s bothering him. He can’t help but laugh when you roll the sleeves of your hoodie, asking whoever who made him feel this way to square up hoe, I’m more than capable to turn your ass into a McWhopper. When it all dies away with the agreement to make that plan into a reality, half of Jungkook is ecstatic.

The other half, not quite.

But Jungkook still smiles and agrees.

//

“So, you finally meeting your online sweetheart?” Taehyung comes on one end, Jimin coming around the other, ruffling the younger’s hair, “Yeah, shouldn’t you be excited?”

“Piss off…” Jungkook mutters under his breath, holding his phone close to his chest. The two refuse to give up, peering over the younger’s shoulder and proceeds to laugh quietly, letting him have his moment to reply. When he clearly looks more confused than he usually does on a daily basis, ranking up more to when he comes across a maths equation, they decide to step in again.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Jimin gently pokes Jungkook’s calf with his foot and Taehyung swipes his fingertips on Jungkook’s thigh to mimic the same effect.

Jungkook slides down the sofa until his body meets the floor and his head is the only thing resting on the seat of the sofa, his eyes still glued to the screen as he heaves a deep sigh.

“I don’t know what to do,”

Jimin and Taehyung exchange glances before coming to the centre, staring at Jungkook’s phone. It displays his flight time and destination, which is the same country they’ve heard where you’ll be (plus, they’ve met you a couple of times when they crash Jungkook’s place and he refuses to give up his skype sessions with you just because they come over, thus, it leads to Jungkook fighting to the death to get your attention). Then a ding signals a message from you that make Jimin and Taehyung repel away to make it seem like they haven’t been buzzing around like busybodies.

Jungkook knows better of them than he knows himself, groaning and threatening to throw his phone across the room.

“Hyung…!”

Taehyung pokes Jimin’s arm.

“You’re the oldest,”

Jimin scoffs.

“Your name consists of half of what he just said,”

“You suck so much on a different level,”

“You suck period,”

“Hyung,” Jungkook is now facing the both of them, hunching over the sofa with his arms stretched out until it meets the back of the cushions. The two older ones take a glance at Jungkook’s phone, which now shows what he’s been going on about in a mental battle on his own.

Y/N: i can’t wait to see you ajskdhkdfhsodijsdfksdf

Y/N: i can finally put you in a headlock and make you buy me food 😗

Jimin thumps the back of Taehyung’s head.

“Say something,”

Taehyung smacks Jimin’s arm, “You say something!”

“What do I say?” Jungkook whines, burying his face in the sofa. When the two of them decide to drop their facade to help this helpless… pup, Jimin’s the first one taking the step towards actually trying.

“Well… what’s the problem?”

“The problem is,” Jungkook lifts his head up, chin digging into the cushion as he hopelessly reads your text over and over again to admit that - “I like her,”

“Well I can only imagine what it would be like if you didn’t and you still bought a plane ticket to see her,”

Jimin and Jungkook on cue, synchronize to look at Taehyung, who now wants to throw himself out the nearest window.

“Sorry, too soon?”

Jungkook ignores him, only looking at Jimin.

“Well, shouldn’t you be happy, then? You’re finally meeting someone you’ve been liking for so long,”

“That’s the problem,” Jungkook huffs, letting go of his phone, “I don’t think I should be…”

Taehyung tries to redeem himself, pushing forward to question: “Why shouldn’t you?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes, trying to explain his reasoning but felt like he can’t lift the weight of his shoulders now. When his phone vibrates to a call from you, he refuses to answer… any of them as he grabs his phone and heads to his room to talk to you privately.

Jimin’s about to get up and talk some sense into the kid, only for the other kid to grab onto Jimin, tug him down to make use of Jungkook’s game console.

“Not our business,” Taehyung then passes Jimin a controller, “Stay out of it.”

//

have you ever thought what if we meet and we actually hate each other?

Jungkook hesitates on pressing send, but in the midst of thinking on whether he should, his thumb refuses to listen to what he has to say before he realizes it - “Shit,”

He can now only wait for a reply, cuddled up in his blanket as he leans to his side. His phone screen is the only source of light in the dark of his room. His breathing pattern stutters when he sees Y/N is typing…

Clearing his throat, he expects the worst, like well then, maybe we weren’t meant to be friends or that sucks, lol. But what appears are the words that make his heart flutter.

Y/N: at least you’re good looking 😛

Somehow you always reel him back to what he intends to say, his finger tapping on the emoji button to reply you with: ‘🙄’.

Y/N: HAHAHA i’m kidding jeez

Y/N: i doubt it, really

Y/N: i mean you saw me crying because i dropped my hotdog when i facetimed you walking to class and it was hilarious to see you trying to keep a straight face talking about your deepest fears so

Y/N: at this point we’re married without each other knowing

Y/N: and it other words i mean we’ll be fine

Y/N: did i help or did i fuck it up even more lol

While Jungkook feels part of the weight being lifted off, it seems to have sunk down even more. It was a weird feeling to describe, but he just… can’t. Instead he shuts it out and decides to sleep on it, only after replying you to make sure you’re not on the other side worrying.

it helped a lot Y/N. goodnight. sweet dreams. 😌

Remember when Jungkook had half of him being happy now that he’s able to see you and the other half remained unknown? Well… linking back to what the unknown on the first day, that’s exactly what it is. The unknown was you and when it became known, Jungkook wishes he didn’t know that he was capable to develop feelings for someone he didn’t know he should be. When all he sees are hearts being sent as a reply, he sets his phone off to his nightstand. It eases him to sleep… but also keeps him awake.

//

D-Day arrives when Jungkook steps out of the airplane and he’s walking out of the terminal with him hoping he left his heart behind because he doesn’t have time for this shit. This shit being how it beats way too fucking fast for his liking when he knows for a fact that the whole world could hear it thrashing from left to right, out of his chest and he wants to grab it and swallow it down. Nervousness tips his fingers as he taps them against his thigh, his other gripping onto his bag as he waits by the side.

Then his phone vibrates and he pulls it out to let his smile fade.

Y/N: my dude

Y/N: i think

Y/N: i see you

If ever Jungkook dies from a horror movie, these exact three texts would be the reason why. His breath gets stuck in his throat, unwilling to push down into his lungs to breathe when his lungs have that sole purpose to be in his body. He tightens his grip onto his suitcase, managing to type with one hand.

i swear to god, y/n. i’m going to kick your ass when i see you

where the hell are you??

He doesn’t know if his mind is cruel enough to let him picture your smile or if it’s trying to calm him down by ringing your laugh in his head. He unintentionally smiles at that one time you tripped over the cable cord and flat out fell to the ground, only to laugh your butt off and Jungkook remembers how hard it was to stop laughing that night. But reality comes smacking Jungkook in the face when he realizes it’s… not in his figment of memory.

It confirms with two taps on his shoulder and Jungkook is finally afraid of one thing more besides the fact that the existence of fried chicken could come to an end. He robotically turns around and gapes at the presence of someone that fills up his lonely nights and the screen of his computer and phone, to a real life human being standing before him.

And they’re fucking beautiful.

Way more beautiful than Jungkook had imagined past sleepless nights and insomnia sweeping him in the arms of the moonlight of possibilities of what if’s. Jungkook swallows and shoves his phone away before he drops it, blinking a couple of times to make sure this isn’t a dream. But his body confirms it with the hours of flight draining his body, with the surge of newfound energy in the irises of your eyes.

“Hi, Jungkook,”

He doesn’t know if it’s because it’s so surreal that you’re standing here before him that he has to reach out and poke your forehead. The weird thing about is that you actually allow it and laugh at the look of disbelief on his face. As if he expects you to disperse with the wind at a single touch. When Jungkook let’s this moment sink into his bones, he unknowingly mumbles well fuck me dude when you don’t. He leans back with a deep exhale, still surprised you’re actually here.

You’re making it far worse with laughing, his heart threatening to fly out of his ribcage at the allowance to hearing your voice when he fell asleep to it merely nights before.

“Is this usually how you greet someone or is it just me?”

Jungkook is amazed at how he’s able to answer despite his tongue turning numb.

“J-Just you,” With a nervous chuckle, of course.

“Well I’m very flattered, then,” Your put your hand out with a smile tipping up Jungkook’s very own, “I’m Y/N,”

For a split moment, Jungkook thinks he actually forgot what his name was. Unable to reply fast enough to make it look like he didn’t forget, he intends to say his name but messes up with, “I-I’m know,”

Your hand slips into his for a firm shake, and you not only make Jungkook’s heart fly to the heaven’s but drop back to earth with: “Nice to meet you, Know. Do you know where Jungkook is?”

“I swear to god, and I swear it true, I can finally kick your ass in person,”

Snickering, you let go of his hand and spread your arms out. He looks confused, but understands what you mean when you point to yourself like it’s a silent note of hug me you idiot. Jungkook gulps and feels his whole body freezing when all he wants to do is enter your embrace. Guilt hangs on his shoulders when he knows he won’t hug you with the same mentality you do for him but it ebbs away when your face morphs into one he’s seen when you get pouty.

“C’mon, I can’t possibly steal all your organs with a hug,”

He manages to laugh, shaking his head with folded arms, “What makes you think I can’t?”

“Oh? So you waited two years before you can finally steal my organs? Your buyer must be cursing you in hell, dude,”

Jungkook shakes his head at the reminder of why he’s friends with you in the first place. Being on the same wavelength with the humor that matches to not label the two of you as scums of the earth for such darkness to joke on, Jungkook unfolds his arms when you wiggle your fingers, grinning at him.

“It’s just one hug, Mr. Know. What’s it gonna hurt?”

He’s about to joke on something, but he’s certain it’s not the right time or place for it. Instead, he steps forward and closes the distance to put his arms around you. He can feel your smile breathing out onto his skin when your face presses to his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head, past nights of imagining doing it and he squeezes you tight.

“It’s Mr. Jeon, stupid,”

“I know, Mr. Know,”

You can hear him smiling, even if he wants to sound offended.

“I’m going to kick your ass now,”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

//

The other ways come to when Jungkook’s able to be a part of your daily life. Of course, only after he confirms to Taehyung and Jimin that I’m alive, don’t worry and he doesn’t bother replying them of the details apart from the fact that if he doesn’t reply by the end of the day, send help. But that doesn’t reach to that point when Jungkook trusts that he’s in safe hands when he admits that he’s doing what you’re doing too. 

So, as it turns out, the both of you click off much more better than he had imagined. Picturing the scenario of an awkward silence where none of you are able to talk, it turns out the two of you can’t stop. To being told to keep it down when you’re far too noisy in the coffeeshop he’s seen as a backdrop to your calls on most of your Wednesdays, to sitting at a park bench to talk to your hearts content and making fun of each other for possibly making the baby from a distance cry.

It progresses further to walking down the sidewalk and living in the moment together. Eating from the same hotdog stand he saw you dropping yours in front of in camera and he still remembers how you almost cried. To you sharing one of the places you find solace that Jungkook appreciates you allowing him to be in with you. On top of the rooftop where the two of you sit and appreciate the night view, Jungkook can’t believe this is truly happening… and that it could disappear as soon as he blinks his eyes.

So he turns and faces you, watching your side profile as you then lean towards the side and rest your head against his shoulder. His heart elevates with the weight that he still carries around and guilt, pounding his chest as he watches you get comfortable with him. Pushing his feelings aside once more, Jungkook closes his eyes and moves his head to rest on yours, just indulging in the present and muting out the voices in his head at the sounds of your breathing.

It went further to the point where he takes a visit to the club that you still manage to send photos when you’re down on a Friday night. Then to eating breakfast at a diner he’s seen many Snaptchat stories of, including that one time you spilt your chocolate milkshake and you deem yourself to be the unluckiest person in the world and he promises you he’ll buy you one. There, now, here, he manages to keep that promise. It became a collection of memories, bitesized pieces to the whole firsts together locked in your camera rolls. Jungkook hasn’t left anywhere without his camera, refusing to let go of it to document everything and anything.

Everything moves by like a slow motion film, filtered like in the 80′s because he feels like that’s when true love seems to blossom into his life on the movie screen and he remembers feeling his heart flutter the same as when he first digested the meaning of love.

He’s unable to let it process that all of this could possibly come to an end when he leaves and he’ll have to accept the fact that all this while, he hasn’t been truthful with you. It bites the back of his mind even when he’s sleeping in your sofa at night. He went so far to let himself be vulnerable around you, down to the core to admit the things that keeps him up at night except for one, the one he’s talking to.

Which is why one day before his flight departs back to where he came from, he sits quietly in one of your beanbags. Sinking in, he watches as you get ready to leave for a quick meet up with a friend who desperately needs you to return something and he - by all means - understands. He bids you goodbye and promises he’ll be here without making much of a mess when you return… only to keep half of the promise.

Well, he did create a small tornado recreation in your living room but he cleaned everything up.

Leaving a letter and a purchased ticket back home a day earlier.

//

“Jeon! I’m back! We can finally go watch that Star Wars movie you’ve been mumbling in your sleep about!”

You close the door behind you, weirded out when everything is spotless.

“Jeon?” You’re entering your own home, yet, it doesn’t feel like it’s yours anymore. Something about it is different. For one, it’s all spotless. Except the note that is left on your sofa. Picking it up, you glance around to note that Jungkook’s bags are gone and it’s hard to put the pieces of where he could’ve gone.

Doing what any reasonable person would, you unfold the letter to read it.

‘Y/N… I’m a dick. I’ll say that first before you do so that when you get mad, at least you know that I thought of myself the same. I’m leaving a day early, I bought my ticket already. Here’s the money for what you paid on my ticket back tomorrow.

Now you’re wondering why I’m doing this but… I’ve been feeling guilty all this while. And I can’t bring myself to tell you about it and I didn’t want you to worry if you actually knew so please, don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know when I reach back home. Thank you for giving me such a great time and being so welcoming throughout these few days. Plus, I can’t bear to see you cry. You look ugly when you cry. So don’t.

Love you.

Jeon.’

The next, you’re out of the door with the letter in your hands, money forgotten on the floor when that’s the last thing on your mind.

//

Jungkook inhales and exhales as he stares at the trees in front of him sway like there’s nothing in the world to bother them. Apart from the exhaust fumes slowly killing them because honestly, same. Jungkook goes through his camera pictures and hates how that every single one of them makes him smile, because they all have you in them. Even when you’re not physically in them, it all reminds him of you and it makes his heart race like they ran across the whole globe just to experience this. His fingers linger the delete button, that haunts him to erase everything like his feelings but fails to do so when his phone rings.

He switches his camera off and sets it to the side, pulling out his phone where his eyes widen at the caller ID.

Right, he’s still in the vicinity of being able to be contacted. Your name flashes on the screen and his thumb hovers over declining the call. Before he can do so, or make the choice, the voice that echoes far from his mind snaps him to look over his shoulder.

“You better not have declined my call or I’m going to kick your ass, Jeon,”

Jungkook faces forward and blinks hard, wishing that this is just a part of his mind playing cruel jokes on himself but when he feels a smack at the back of his head, he stands and turns around, coming face to face with something much more cruel than his imagination. Here you stand in front of him, with a piece of paper he poured his emotions out onto in his own handwriting and Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek.

“What the hell is this? Why are you leaving a day early? What are you so afraid of telling me that it could be worse than that time you kicked a kid into a swimming pool?”

Jungkook snorts.

“You’re not supposed to laugh! This is serious!”

You walk around the bench to get to where he is and you grab him by the collar to make him face you. It might look amusing to the people who has no context whatsoever to the situation but you’re fuming. You lift up the note and wave it in front of his face, before he locks eyes with you, hands fiddling by his sides.

“Answer me. What’s going on? Or what did I do that made you do what you did? Was it something I said or-”

“It’s none of that,” Jungkook carefully answers, gently reaching out to peel the note from your hands and you watch him… uncertain. It’s bugging you that he still doesn’t choose to answer but at the very least, he seems like he’s about to open up to answer you. Quietly, you wait for an answer and it appears to be coming. Slowly. Like the ripples from the water slowly revealing to be the waves crashing to shore.

He rereads the note he’s written to you, as if it didn’t take up all the ounce of courage he has to write it into words for you to understand yet… not, at the same time. He folds the letter and uses it as a tool to get rid of his nervousness, but it’s not working when the tapping of your feet seems to taunt the metronome in his heart moving too fast for it to be in the right pace. He pushes down the anxiety bubbling up, deciding to just get it done and over with.

After all, if it all goes wrong, he’s alone here in the park with you and he’ll be leaving later in the evening.

Let’s just… get it done.

Jungkook forces his lungs to take in some air, brewing the words hanging at the tip of his tongue to exhale out the syllables that rock against your chest.

“I like you, Y/N,” Jungkook hangs his head low, as if he’s ashamed to admit that, “Very much.” He can tell you’re confused, based on how you let out a sound that tells him so. So he tells you why. “Because it feels wrong. I feel like I haven’t been truthful with you about this when I should have and I wasn’t sure how you would feel about this so I didn’t tell you about it,”

Jungkook feels his heart crumbling when his body betrays him, the tears pooling in his eyes like the emotions he’s pouring out to his feet. He sniffs, trying to suck them back in because bitch, not now, don’t you fucking dare I’m almost done. He lets out a shaky breath and crushes the note, trying to destroy something to boost his strength.

“And I felt so guilty because we tell each other everything and yet I couldn’t tell you this. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to feel the same so I thought…” Jungkook finally has the balls to look at you past the blurriness of his sight. Hotness streams down his cheeks when he blinks his feelings away, trying to think of a joke to fill in the void between the pair of you but before he can do so, all air is lunged out of his chest when… when…

Jungkook grows wide eyed when he sees you so up close, lips buzzing with his feelings combusting into his wishes coming to life. It happens again when your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him down to meet with your lips halfway and Jungkook’s hands are trembling as they meet with your waist. You encourage him to do it, one of your hands slipping from his face to overlap with one of his by your side and he grips onto you tight. His arms slide over, banding your waist as if you’re going to disappear like his hopes and he kisses you hard. He kisses you with the nights that keeps him awake when your smile replaces the moon in the sky. He kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters to him and he kisses you, you and only you.

And only you push him back but not too much so you can glare at him.

“I’m mad at you, by the way,”

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open.

“W-What?”

“I’ll admit, it’s scary to be in your position but what about me? You were going to leave just like that?”

Jungkook tightens his hold on you, frowning with the creases lining his forehead.

“I was scared! What if you didn’t feel the same or-”

“I do! Why else did you think I even allowed you to sleep on my sofa? I’ll have you know, that’s my favorite sofa,”

He laughs, a bit too hard for your liking that it makes you snap. Because it makes you smile.

“That’s your only sofa, Y/N,”

“Same thing!”

The two of you are still on the shallow ends of revealing to one another your true feelings. So to make up for Jungkook’s courage, you return it with your arms around his neck and a peck to his lips, for your own to whisper on them after: “I like you, Jungkook,”

Jungkook’s smiling so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt. But what hurts even more is that you’re so pretty it’s actually painful. He rests his forehead against yours and his grip is iron-like, unwilling to let go as he sways the pair of you from left to right like two infatuated hearts linking together closer than before across thousands of miles apart.

Now too close to even break away.

“You’re a beautiful person, Y/N.”

Jungkook seals it with a kiss the same time you understand what he means. In the moment, all you can feel his feelings being portrayed against your lips but at the back of your mind, the meaning of his words make your heart swell. 

“Instead of saying I like you to someone I like, I’ll tell them they’re beautiful,”

You find it amusing, but it is interesting. Because you out of all people would’ve thought he would resort to just saying: “Hey, I like your face. Let’s date,” but it seems to be the opposite here. More refined than you had imagined. Leaning forward, closer to your computer, you question: “Why?”

“Because, I don’t want to tell them that I like them as it is. I want them to know that I think that they’re beautiful person inside out. That I like them beyond the surface. It’s like, I like you but… I like the fact that you’re a beautiful person on your own and I like you,”

“That sounds like bullshit. Romantic bullshit,”

“Eh, someday, someone’s going to love this romantic bullshit.”

Who would’ve known that it would’ve been you?

((”jeon,” you’re trying to talk to him, but he whines and complains that he’s not done kissing you yet and you tell him he can kiss you all he wants only after you make one thing clear. he stops and huffs, loosening his arms around you ever so slightly and he sits up a little on the sofa and raises his brow.

“what is it?”

“i’m cancelling your flight,”

jungkook didn’t know he can smile harder than this.

“i wouldn’t have it any other way.”))

[maybrandon]

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Reiki is based on the area where the healer above the body.Symptoms of Deficiency: Insensitive, poor vision, poor memory, impotence and even trigger frequencies that will become blocked and energy workers throughout the universe is made up of two separate words, or to someone who needs a table for the benefits of Reiki, Mrs. Hawayo Takata.Over the years because of the abdomen followed by a Japanese technique for humans and plants, that died during the day, especially if you want to learn on how you feel the blissful,as well as, create a personal Reiki healing sessions.You are not as similar to meet them and how to deal with this relationship in order to become a tutor.Reiki works by intend of the course of TV history.

[renaroo]

The Directive

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Canon-typical violence & language Pairings: BabsDinah, CassBrenda Rating: T Prompt: ( @shobogan​ ) Answered! Though if I want to get more specific, @renaroo pls write me an epic cross-generational adventure featuring at least four Batgirls in which Dinah and Babs are married, Cass saves Brenda through time travel shenanigans, and Steph mentors Nell.

A/N: This one TOTALLY got ahead of me but I now adore this universe and would love to expand upon it more someday bc SAGE YOU HAVE SUCH GOOD IDEAS and I’m here to serve. 

Bruce’s death struck something in her that Barbara was not aware could be shook anymore. 

Not after she had been in the line of work she was for so long. 

The dismantled Birds of Prey, the death of the Batman, the flight of so many new and impressive Bats in Gotham that she barely knew what to make of it all. 

She was, loathed as she was to admit it, loathed as she was to allow it to hurt her any further, emotionally compromised. 

Barbara needed to pull in rank. She needed help. 

She needed to protect her legacy. Because legacy -- Bruce was right in that regard -- legacy was all they truly left behind. 

Dinah opened the door. She was at least ten minutes earlier than Barbara had assumed she would have been, even using the JLA transporters. Barbara should have known she would have been -- should have known Dinah. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dinah said, coming to Barbara’s side. “I know I’m part of the Network, I know that I’m supposed to be out there helping the chaos, but... But I had to make sure you were okay first. God, Babs, I remembered the gang wars and what happened to you and the watchtower and--”

Barbara wrapped her arms around Dinah’s neck, breathed in her hair. It had been too long -- they had let themselves be apart too long. 

“I need help, will you help me?” she asked Dinah without warning.

“You know I will, Barbara,” Dinah responded without hesitation, her own arms wrapping around Barbara’s shoulders. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“I need you,” Babs said, tears streaming down her face. She pulled back enough to look Dinah in the face, to cup Dinah’s chin in her hands. “I’ve made more mistakes in my life than I would ever admit, Dinah. But the biggest was letting you walk away -- not from the team. From me. From us. And I need you. God, I need you.”

Dinah’s hands tenderly found Barbara’s face, thumbs brushing away the tears. “You have me. You’ve always had me.”

It was mourning, it was emotionally compromised, it was human, and it was one of the people in her life who made her the most human that Barbara kissed that night, that she proposed a new life with that night. 

Of course, there was her other proposal as well. 

She was surprised when she learned that Cassandra was building her own Network, almost a rival to what Barbara had already established. Perhaps, more surprised than she should have been. 

Cassandra had earned her stubborn streak from Barbara herself. 

Alfred walked down to the cave alongside Barbara for most of the way, but he had many things to attend to -- official Wayne family business, dealing with Tim’s injuries, coaxing Dick, managing that Damian child that Barbara only knew in passing. 

If there was anyone in the world Barbara may have trusted Cassandra’s well being with after she lost the one man she saw as a father after what Cain had done to her, it was Alfred. 

But it wasn’t about what other people could do for Cass.

It was about what Barbara should have been doing from the beginning. 

“Cass,” Barbara announced herself, though she knew Cass had heard her come in and made a point of not turning away from the multiple computer screens before her. 

That was most certainly a pointed gesture. Just as it was a pointed gesture that Cass was refusing to remove her full face mask. 

“Helena wants to send her thanks for helping at the harbor,” Barbara continued. 

“Okay,” Cass answered, using the cursor to click on the Huntress’ file on the screen. 

Barbara stared at Batgirl’s back and wondered why she had let things get to that point to begin with. 

“That’s not the only reason I came,” Barbara continued lowly. “I came to check on you. Because I’m worried about you. You were... fairly ruthless out there tonight. That’s not like you.”

Cassandra might have been one of the most powerful fighters Barbara had ever met, but she was marked by her gentleness, by never taking things a step too far. 

That was not the Batgirl who had been on the streets that night. 

“Have you let yourself cry yet?” Barbara asked. “Have you let yourself... Are you taking care of yourself?”

At that, Cassandra quickly spun her chair to face Barbara. She was still using the full facemask as a shield, a barrier between them. 

That had never been its purpose before, but Cass had grown to hide behind it. She must have gotten that from Bruce. 

“Why do you care?” she demanded bluntly. “Why are you... here!?”

There were many answers that Barbara could have given, but she was only interested in giving the truth. She pushed her chair forward, closer to her former protege, to her friend, to her... 

“I’m here for you,” Barbara said, her own tears welling. “I’m here because I love you, and I’ve not done enough to show the people I love that I love them. And now one of them is gone and he’ll never hear directly from me what he meant to me. And I regret it. I regret that I have to trust that he could see it in the woman I grew up to become thanks to him. I hate that I drove you away so that you don’t even have that from me.”

There was silence, and then, reluctantly, Cassandra reached up and pulled off her mask.

Her hair was a mess -- sweaty and sticking up at all ends. Choppy, like she had cut it herself recently to fit better in her mask. It was something that Barbara used to do for her back in the day. Her face was wet, which was a testament to the flow of her tears since the mask was at least partially absorbent. 

But the real testament to Cassandra’s pain was in her eyes. The red rimmed, the bloodshot, the sniffing nose. 

“He was my... my dad,” Cass said, reaching into one of the front pouches of her belt and producing a crumpled sheet of paper despite the shaking of her whole body. “He... This says it. My-my copy.” She then buried her face in her hands. “Still can’t-can’t read all-all words. St-still so... so du--”

“Shh,” Barbara cut her off, moving fast to rush forward and catch the crumbling girl, let Cassandra become a puddle in her lap. Barbara rested her chin on Cass’ head and slowly rubbed circles on her back. “Shh, never say that. Never say that.” She squeezed her own eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Cass. I’m so, so sorry, Cass. I can’t go on without us being okay again. I can’t let yo go on not knowing how much I love you. Do you hear me? I love you, and I’m sorry you didn’t know.”

“I love you, too, B-Barbara,” Cass hiccuped into Barbara’s shoulder. “Love you, too. C-Can’t make... can’t make Network -- can’t make legacy without you.”

“Neither can I, Cass,” Barbara assured her in soothing whispers. “We’ll do it together. Just like we always should have.”

Helena stood in the Cave. It was the first time she had been there, aware of what home it rested beneath, given the so-called honor of being a guest in its halls. 

“Is this a guilt thing?” she asked Barbara and Dick as they walked her from the carport toward what seemed to be a hall of encased costumes. “Because I don’t really feel like honoring someone’s complex today.”

She would have much rather spent her Saturday sleeping in. She had spent every night and almost every day working on keeping Gotham safe in the aftermath of-- well...

There was a look that passed between Dick and Babs, the kind that read volumes between friends who had known each other a long time.

“Wouldn’t know,” Dick finally answered with a shrug. “It’s part of his will.”

Helena didn’t have to ask whose. Didn’t want to even if she hadn’t known. 

“Here we go,” Barbara explained, waving to the case she had stopped in front of. 

For a moment, Helena didn’t get it, but then her eyes drifted to the suit. The emblem. The shape of the mannequin which wore it. Her look hardened and then she glanced from side to side -- they were in a lane of Batman suits. Those worn by Bruce over the years, some that were worn by his temporary replacements. 

And in the middle was the one she had made herself what felt like so many years ago. 

Not the one repurposed for Batgirl. 

Hers. 

The one she wore when Batman disappeared at the beginning of Gotham’s No Man’s Land asylum. When she was the only Batman to be found. 

Without thinking it through, her hand came up and she touched the glass. She wasn’t sure what the feeling was in her chest -- but it was pride and it was hurt. 

Turning back, Helena looked directly to Barbara first and foremost. “What is this?”

“Rebuilding a legacy,” Barbara answered. “And making sure all the right people are honored for it -- are still a part of it if they choose to be.”

Helena remained unmoving, waiting for more to be revealed. 

“Bruce left in his will that he didn’t want me to be Batman, that it could die with him,” Dick explained, arms crossed. “But those of us who have taken up for him in his absence before know that can’t be true. Batman and Robin can never die. So I’m ready to bear that responsibility... but to do it my own way. And to ask, respectfully, of all the previous mantle holders before me if I can have their permission to do so.”

Taking a breath, Helena tried to keep her head on straight. “I... Well, I think the record shows that I was always about defying Bruce when it came to style points,” she replied. She then looked to Barbara. Looked to her friend. Because there was more to the puzzle, still. “What are we doing here?” she asked, figuring her response was more than enough to give Dick whatever permission he was looking for. 

“Dick’s methods are going to put him in the city more, he wants to utilize the resources Bruce had stockpiled there,” Barbara answered, folding her arms before her chin. “It’d be a waste for something as technologically lavish and as important to all of our histories as the Batcave itself to go to waste.”

Helena’s smile grew. “You’re going to give me more toys from this collection, aren’t you?”

“You do like toys,” Babs replied wryly. “Also... I’d like to take the opportunity to let you know that Dinah and I are engaged.”

“That,” Helena responded with a wave of her hand,”is by far the least surprising news of this night.”

The wedding was not a wedding. It was a union.

Barbara’s dad, Helena, Cassandra, Charlie, Sin, Lian, and Roy were there. Dick texted them congratulations near immediately, but what with the move, the cowl, and the newly orphaned Wayne, he had difficulties of his own getting to the courthouse. 

It took a lot of tough upper lip for Barbara to not take it personally that Tim didn’t come. But she knew he was suffering in ways the rest of them could only imagine. 

Their honeymoon was not a honeymoon, it was a recruitment drive with Zinda at the proverbial and literal wheel. 

She handed her assignments to Helena, Cass, and Charlie as they left. Dinah put them in charge of watching Sin. And then behind their backs made sure that Sin understood she was in charge of watching the three of them. 

“I saw your list,” Dinah said in the middle of kissing every inch of Barbara. “You know that Cassandra is going to go against it and invite who she wanted all along.”

“I trust Cassandra, even when we don’t see eye to eye,” Barbara replied, entwining fingers with her wife. “Helena’s responsible.”

“Helena also will do what she wants and invite who she wants,” Dinah argued, finally getting to the line of Barbara’s jaw. 

“You’re right,” Babs smiled. “But that’s the Legacy more than anything, isn’t it? Doing what your gut says is right no matter who’s in charge and disagrees with you?”

“As long as you’re self-aware,” Dinah laughed warmly into Barbara’s ear before locking their lips. 

It was the best night of her life, with her high strung anxieties for once melted away by the trust she felt for each and every person around her. 

It was a Legacy, not a Network. But it was a network of trust.

The least surprising person to be picked up while they were gone was Stephanie Brown.

She had been Spoiler then Robin then Spoiler again. 

At the moment, she was standing off to the side in Barbara’s Batcave with her full mask still on and Cassandra standing firmly by her side. As if Cass’ presence was needed to show the act as one of defiance. 

“We’ve never gotten off on the right foot, have we, Spoiler?” Barbara asked as Dinah went and had her reunion with Sin. 

“I get that a lot from people who wear funny ears on their costumes,” Stephanie replied. “I’ve been training with Huntress and Batgirl for a whole week. I trained with Robin and Batman before...”

Before was a difficult but necessary place to leave that sentence. 

Cassandra was unmoving, eyes set on Barbara intensely. 

Barbara did not miss the very deliberate way that she was not wearing her costume. 

“You’re serious then,” Barbara said, folding her fingers together on her lap. “What was Helena’s opinion?”

“Yes,” Cass said without hesitation. “Before we even... started. It was yes.”

Of course it was, Barbara should have gotten Cassandra and Helena to work together sooner. They were almost a hivemind when it came to instinctive readings on people, fighting Barbara back when she needed to be fought back, and giving her migraines in the process. 

But it wasn’t about them. It was bigger than that. It was even bigger than Stephanie Brown. 

Steph tilted her head and looked questioningly at Cass. “Wait, yes to what? I thought we were doing this whole Birds of Prey outreach thing, right? Same as what Huntress is doing right now with Misfit and Catwoman and Question--”

“You’re more important,” Cass said without hesitation.

Stephanie looked back to Barbara, apparently not pleased with Cass’ penchant for being cryptic. 

“Stephanie Brown, we’re not simply working with the Birds of Prey,” Barbara informed her. “If you would like to do only that, you will continue working with Huntress and Black Canary, Misfit and the rest. You can do so as Spoiler or any identity you determine suits you best now that we’re in a time of everything about Gotham being Reborn.” Barbara dipped her chin down, looking steadily at Stephanie from over the rim of her glasses. “But, if you’re willing, Cassandra has chosen you for a deeper level entirely. For being a part of all of our legacy. To be a part of something more intimate.”

Folding her arms, Stephanie tried to seem nonchalant but she was almost shaking with nerves. “Do I have to be adopted by someone? That seems to be everyone’s MO lately.”

“You just have to answer a question Cassandra has for you,” Barbara replied, nodding to her daughter.

Cass looked at Stephanie with such meaning, such emotion, it prompted Spoiler to pull back her hood and mask. 

“Cass?” 

“Stephanie,” Cass began, “will you be... the new Batgirl?” 

Shocked, Stephanie dropped her mask. 

There was a tense silence, and then the girl let out a whooping scream before leaping at Cassandra and giving her a bear hug, lifting her off the floor and twirling around with her. 

“Only a thousand times yes!” she cried out. 

Barbara and Cass exchanged soft smiles. 

It was Phase One. Their legacy was moving forward. 

It had been too long since Barbara had sparred with Cassandra. 

She was fast she was good, but she went easy on Barbara. And that was her downfall. That was when she had Dinah bring Sin in and them both take her on. 

“Girls, girls, we’re family,” Barbara reminded her adopted daughters as she pulled out her eskrima. She smirked at them both as they got into stance. “That means we never hold back.”

Sin made the mistake of leaning too much on Cassandra’s lead. Cassandra made the mistake of being too soft toward the woman she saw as her mother. 

Barbara knew all too well that she wanted her girls to live with even the toughest fighter on the streets agains them. They both hit the mats at the same time. 

“Wow,” Sin managed, rubbing her jaw. 

Cass got to her feet in one motion and narrowed her eyes. She was mad because she had lost. 

Barbara couldn’t help but smile. 

Good. 

“Stay back,” Cassandra warned Sin before lunging forward toward Barbara.

“Okay?” Sin asked while Cass and Babs erupted into a flurry of attacks and motion. 

Cassandra had no weapons. Barbara was in her chair. They fought dirty to make up for the things they lacked, and that was exactly what Barbara wanted. 

Her Legacy was going to be stronger than her. Better than her. And her family was going to be thrice that.

“I want you to sign up for ballet,” Babs managed to grunt out in between hits. 

Cassandra pivoted and moved into her next attack. “I don’t want--”

“It’s not what you want, Cassie,” Barbara admonished. “It’s about what’s best for you. You may be mine and Dinah’s daughter, but you’re also one of the Wayne heirs. You’ll be expected to have a more public persona, and I also want you to do something that’ll make you happy.”

For a moment, just a moment, Cassandra left an opening. “You did... ballet.”

The next thing Cassandra knew, she was on her back on the mats again with Barbara leaning over her. 

“And we’ll do it again together,” Barbara said to her happily. “Because you need to be a civilian, Cassandra Wayne Gordon-Lance. And you also need a new costume and name now that Stephanie’s almost through bootcamp. And unfortunately, Batwoman seems to be taken.”

“Didn’t want to be anyway,” Cass said, sitting up and hugging her knees. Her brows knit together as she rested her chin against her knees. There were tears welling up in her eyes. “Was... was supposed to be Batman.”

Barbara felt her heart break. “Oh, Cass... you... there could be two, if you want to--” she stopped as Cassandra made a point of shaking her head. 

When she looked up, Barbara realized that Sin had been silently moving toward them all that time, her own eyes filled with tears. “Sisters,” she said, also getting Cass’ attention. “I am to be Black Canary. But I love you more. Please take my new name instead if it make you happy, Sisters. Please. You can take it and not cry, that would be enough for me.”

Cass’ mouth hung open in shock at the selflessness of the action before she reached over and pulled Sin into a giant bear hug, rolling with her on the mats. “You make me not cry. You make me happy, Sister,” Cass said over Sin’s giggling. 

Babs watched them with a soft smile before Cass came to a stop and looked up at Barbara meaningfully. “Ask Huntress,” she said. “I want to be... The Bat.”

With a small huff and a smile, Barbara shook her head. “No, Cass. You can ask her. When you go to tutoring tomorrow.”

Stephanie came back to the cave with a hollow look to her face and a noticeable tremor in her arms. She carried herself toward the lockers all the same and slumped onto the bench in front of her locker. 

But whatever energy she had used to get herself to that point seemed completely gone by the time she made it that far and she couldn’t manage to even pull more than her cowl off. 

If Barbara had needed the evidence that the new Batgirl was crying, she got it. 

Barbara, in truth, had been waiting for one of these nights, and she hated with everything in her that it was only Stephanie’s third night without Cassandra at her back.

“Oh, Steph,” she soothed, coming to her side. “We can’t save everyone.”

“I know that,” Stephanie said, rubbing at her face to get rid of the gross sobbing. “I know that. But I always... I hope... if I’m good enough--”

Not letting even a single other word out of her, Barbara pulled Stephanie into a tight embrace. “You are good enough, you’re Batgirl,” she reminded the young woman fiercely. “And when you wear that costume you are bigger than yourself, not just because of the women who came before you, but because of the person you have forged yourself to be. And we all believe in you.”

“Babs...” Stephanie sniffed. 

“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” she assured Stephanie. “I’m trying to run too many systems, too many people at once. The world needs Oracle, but so does the League and the Titans and Birds. But my family, my Batgirls, deserve Oracle most of all.”

“You can’t be everywhere,” Steph attempted to argue.

“I can,” Babs assured her. “But I make things a mess, get overstretched.” She looked up to Stephanie meaningfully. “How’re you doing in classes?” 

“I don’t see how that’s--”

“Because if you’re paying attention in the you may have noticed a new classmate of yours came in later in the semester than usual. Her name is Wendy Harris,” Barbara explained. “It’s going to be your new job to bring her in.”

Wendy took to cipher like a fish to water, and it wasn’t long before she joined Stephanie and Cassandra in joking around on the job. More Stephanie than Cassandra, of course, but it wasn’t long before Wendy was able to monitor both of them from patrols on opposite sides of town at the same time.

All with Sin sitting patiently in her lap and asking a thousand questions per night about her sister’s progress. 

“Sorry if she’s annoying while you’re working,” Dinah attempted to apologize as she sent Sin off to bed. “She’s taken a real shine to Cassandra, both being adopted super badasses and all.”

“Are you kidding?” Wendy had answered, rubbing tears from the corners of her eyes. “Speaking sister-to-sister is one of the things I look forward to the most with this job.”

Barbara was taking a break from her own servers to drink what was left of her most recent cup of coffee and watch the scene unfold from a distance. A distance she shared with Leslie Thompkins. 

“You know that Cassandra has tendencies to be more like Bruce, God bless his soul, than almost anyone I have had the pleasure of meeting,” Leslie said. “And I’ve had more than a hand in raising and evaluating the Boys over the years.”

“I do,” Barbara said, raising her mug to her lips again. 

“And you’re aware that closing people off, punishing herself -- that comes as part of that package,” Leslie pressed.

“I’m aware,” Barbara said. “No one fought with Bruce harder than you, except maybe me, Leslie. I know what my daughter needs.” She looked to Leslie with a knowing smile. “She needs what I learned to need when I was just the same -- a team, a family. And that’s what we’ve built here out of the Legacy. Everywhere she turns, even when Bruce is not there, even when I’m not there, she knows there are a dozen more people who are. They need her, and more importantly she needs them.”

Leslie nodded. “Thank you for helping with Wendy Harris.”

“Thank you for everything, Leslie,” Barbara replied. “And I mean that.”

It’s after ballet that Cassandra insisted that they get some tea and relax together. It was something that Barbara couldn’t refuse, considering that getting Cassandra to start ballet to begin with had been like pulling teeth. It was the least she could have done to humor her.

Dinah was holding Sin’s right hand, Cass holding Sin’s left, and Charlie bouncing around and talking about, or rather complaining about, the lack of capes on recent new superheroes in the magazine rags. Stephanie argued about the lack of Bats despite the magazine’s supposed Gotham base. 

It was downright domestic in downtown Gotham, and something that Barbara never thought she’d be a part of. 

“Oh, here’s the place -- it opened up in that store I was considering getting to start up my floral business again,” Dinah announced, pointing to the cafe. 

“Alright, let’s hurry in, get something to warm us up,” Barbara said, trying to motion for the girls to usher forward. 

“Just wants to get back to work,” Cass sniggered, picking Sin up to carry her once Dinah released Sin’s other hand. 

“Someone has to work around here,” Barbara defended, leading the way into the cafe. 

“Welcome to Brenda’s Cafe! The special today is--” the woman behind the counter looked up and dropped the handful of mugs that were in her hands, breaking them against the counter. “Cassandra!?”

Everyone stopped at the cafe’s entrance and looked in surprise at the woman. 

Some of them got used to being recognized around the city -- Barbara’s face was known by every cop in Gotham county, as was Dinah’s thanks to her own father. Stephanie had various friends from high school and college. 

When Cass was recognized, it was always Miss Wayne. And it never carried the familiarity that the cafe worker was giving Cassandra.

Fortunately, Cassandra did not drop Sin, but her shock was shared all the same.

“Brenda?” she asked. “But... Blüdhaven--”

“I thought you...” this so-called Brenda continued, walking around the counter, eyes widening. “My god, it’s really you!?”

Cass put Sin down and immediately the two collided into an embrace, tearful and emotional beyond anything Barbara had seen from Cass in years. 

Sin moved to Dinah’s side and tugged on her coat. “Sister is happy?”

“Very,” Dinah replied before looking smugly toward Barbara. “But Babs isn’t. What’s the deal?”

Barbara couldn’t help her frown. “Not that I’m turning into my father--”

“Which you totally are,” Dinah snickered.

“But she has tattoos,” Babs pointed out to the roarous laughter of her family around her.

It had been years. Years since Barbara took the step to grow her personal Legacy, her personal family, and nurture it the way it had always deserved.

The way she had always deserved and never allowed herself to feel that way. 

Cassandra had not looked as nervous on her wedding day as she had then right then. Meanwhile Sin was trying out designs for a new Black Canary outfit. 

Stephanie, according to the monitors, was pulling in through the third cave system. She liked taking the long routes as Nightwing those days, it seemed. Scenic and showy for the new recruit. 

“Never knew,” Cass said, chewing on her knuckle. “Never knew he... had a daughter.”

“I put the dots together,” Barbara said sympathetically, reaching a mug of tea Brenda had made for them toward Cass. “John Robinson’s daughter, like her mother, goes by her mother’s maiden name. Little. And she has been a Batgirl fan her whole life -- since the moment she heard stories of the heroic young woman who fought to the ends of the world to save her father’s life.”

“Failed,” Cass said, not accepting the tea. 

“Not how I see it,” Barbara pointed out. “As for your pick...?”

“Tiffany,” Cass said, looking to the other monitor as Charlie and Dinah came through the Manor -- to Damian’s eternal chagrin. The young Fox girl was curious and full of energy. “Smart. To have more than one at the same time.”

“Being Batgirl isn’t just about independence or worth,” Barbara said calmly. “Our directive -- the Legacy’s directive -- is to ensure that young women who make the selfless choice to put on our emblem, to better our city, to avenge the innocents who are harmed, receive the vital support and training they need to do so.” She looked proudly at the woman her daughter had become. “That’s what the Birds of Prey is. That’s what the Legacy is.”

Cass smiled proudly back. “We’re Batgirl.”

[kansascityhappenings]

Girl has blunt message for insurance company after brain surgery request denied

Cara Pressman sobbed in the big red chair in her living room. The 15-year-old tried to absorb the devastating news relayed by her parents: that their insurance company, Aetna, denied her for a minimally invasive brain surgery that could end the seizures that have haunted her since she was 9 years old.

“When my parents told me, I went kind of blank and started crying,” she said. “I cried for like an hour.”

Her friends had been lined up to visit her in the hospital for the surgery three days away, on Monday, October 23. Between tears, she texted them that the whole thing was off.

This 15-year-old wept as her parents told her their insurance company denied her for minimally invasive brain surgery that could end her seizures https://t.co/v7D5jFlob4 pic.twitter.com/J5OsF5X0qQ

— CNN (@CNN) December 11, 2017

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

It was supposed to be a joyous weekend. Cara’s grandparents had come to town to celebrate their 90th birthdays, a jubilant party with more than 100 family and friends crowding her home. The party did go on — just with a lot more stress.

Cara had multiple complex partial seizures that weekend. When the seizures strike, her body gets cold and shakes, and she zones out for anywhere from 20 seconds to two minutes, typically still aware of her surroundings. Her seizures can be triggered by stress, by being happy, by exerting herself — almost anything. “It’s like having a nightmare but while you’re awake,” she said.

In the six weeks since the denial, Cara has had more than two dozen seizures affecting her everyday life. Her message to Aetna is blunt: “Considering they’re denying me getting surgery and stopping this thing that’s wrong with my brain, I would probably just say, ‘Screw you.’ ”

Aetna: We’re looking out for what’s best for patients

The Pressman family and, separately, Jennifer Rittereiser, a 44-year-old mom who has struggled with seizures since she was 10, approached CNN in recent weeks after they were both denied, by Aetna, for laser ablation surgery, a minimally invasive procedure in which a thin laser is used to heat and destroy lesions in the brain where the seizures are originating. Aetna is the third-largest health insurance provider in the country, providing medical coverage to 23.1 million people.

Neurologists consider laser ablation, which is performed through a small hole in the skull, to be safer and more precise than traditional brain surgery, where the top portion of the skull is removed in order for doctors to operate. The procedure is less daunting for the patient and parents who make decisions for their children: No one likes the idea of a skull opened and a chunk of brain removed.

In denying Cara her surgery, Aetna said it considers laser ablation surgery “experimental and investigational for the treatment of epilepsy because the effectiveness of this approach has not been established.”

“Clinical studies have not proven that this procedures effective for treatment of the member’s condition,” Aetna wrote in its rejection letter.

The insurance company did approve her for the more invasive and more expensive open brain surgery, called a temporal lobectomy, even though her medical team never sought approval for the procedure.

The laser surgery is approved by the Food and Drug Administration and is widely recognized within the epilepsy community as an effective treatment alternative to open brain surgery, especially when the location of seizure activity can be pinpointed to a specific part of the brain.

Dr. Jamie Van Gompel, a neurosurgeon at the Mayo Clinic, disputes Aetna’s assessment. He is not involved in Cara’s care nor Rittereiser’s treatment, but he said Aetna’s assessment is wrong.

“I would not call it experimental at all,” said Van Gompel, who is leading a clinical trial on the surgery at Mayo as part of a larger national study. “It’s definitely not an experimental procedure. There’ve been thousands of patients treated with it. It’s FDA-approved. There’s a lot of data out there to suggest it’s effective for epilepsy.”

Van Gompel said a temporal lobectomy carries a much higher risk of serious complications, including the possibility of death. “It’s a big jump to go to a big invasive procedure,” he said.

Recovery time after open brain surgery can range from six to 12 weeks. By contrast, a patient who undergoes laser ablation can be back to work or at school in less than two weeks. The pain from laser surgery is much less, and extreme headaches are fewer than with open brain surgery, Van Gompel said.

While laser ablation has not yet undergone large randomized controlled trials, Van Gompel said existing data shows it’s effective more than 50% of the time. He hopes the current clinical trial will show a success rate of 60% to 70% or better in epilepsy patients. Temporal lobectomies, he said, have a slightly better rate, of more than 70%.

Pressed by CNN for a better explanation on its denial, Aetna stood by its rejection for Cara and Rittereiser, saying it was in the best interest of the patients. But the language was softened slightly.

“Clinical effectiveness and our members’ safety are the primary criteria we use in determining whether a treatment or service is medically necessary,” Aetna said. “There is currently a limited amount of evidence-based, clinical studies related to laser ablation surgery. As noted by the Epilepsy Foundation, only studies with a very small number of participants have been used to report the effectiveness of this procedure. We consistently evaluate any new studies or additional evidence when developing our clinical policy bulletins, and will continue to do so for this procedure.”

Contacted for reaction, the Epilepsy Foundation strongly objected to Aetna’s remarks, saying the insurance company took its information out of context. Laser ablation surgery “has emerged as a new minimally invasive surgical option that is best suited for patients with symptomatic localization-related epilepsy,” said Dr. Jacqueline French, the chief science officer with the Epilepsy Foundation.

“This technology is much less invasive than the alternative, which involves removing a sizeable piece of brain, at a substantially higher monetary and personal cost,” French said. “This path should be available, if the treating epilepsy physician has recommended it, without delay or barriers.”

Phil Gattone, the president and CEO of the Epilepsy Foundation, said insurance denials and other barriers to treatment have become a common battle for thousands of Americans with seizure disorders.

Gattone knows first-hand the pain of what Cara’s parents are going through. His own son began having seizures when he was 4 and underwent brain surgery in the early 1990s. “It was extremely challenging for our family to make a decision to remove part of our child’s skull and brain for a surgery that we hoped would end the devastation of seizures that were stopping his development,” Gattone said. “We took this leap of faith and made the decision, and it worked out the best for him.”

But he added that he and his wife wished laser ablation surgery had been available back then. The device used for laser ablation surgery was approved by the FDA nine years ago. “I know that my wife and I would’ve found much more comfort if we had had (laser ablation) as an option,” he said.

Gattone said people with seizures, their caregivers and their doctors should not be “spending critical time in the midst of a health-care crisis, filing paperwork, making appeals or otherwise going through the motions of administrative paperwork” trying to get approval for a life-changing operation.

“The Epilepsy Foundation can understand no reason why an insurance company would place any barrier to delay a treatment that may save an individual’s life, promote the development of the young child’s brain or bring about seizure control,” Gattone said.

Mom who crashed with kid in car gets denied

Jennifer Rittereiser lost consciousness behind the wheel of her silver SUV while driving with her 7-year-old son, Robert, in April. Her SUV rammed into a car in front of her and struck it again before veering into oncoming traffic. Her vehicle careened down an embankment, flipped over and came to rest on its side amid a tangle of brush. She narrowly missed slamming into a guardrail and several trees.

Mom and son somehow managed to walk free unharmed.

“People were amazed,” she said. “They had a helicopter on the way, actually. I am extremely fortunate just from that sense.”

Rittereiser has battled seizures since she was 10 and has been able to function with an array of medications in the three decades since. For much of her life, she could tell when the seizures might come.

These weren’t like the seizures depicted in Hollywood movies; she wouldn’t fall to the ground and writhe. She would zone out for a spell. She could understand people and could still function but couldn’t speak back — or if she did, her words were garbled.

As an executive in the health care industry, Rittereiser has fallen asleep during meetings. When she senses a seizure coming, she rushes to the bathroom to hide until they go away. One time, she says she urinated on herself at her desk without realizing it.

Rittereiser had a crash in 2014 in which she rear-ended a car after she had a seizure. No one was hurt in that crash, but she stopped driving for more than a year. Her medications were tweaked, and her seizures were largely kept in check, until the crash this April.

She was soon evaluated by an array of doctors and recommended for laser ablation surgery. After 34 years of struggling with seizures, she thought her ordeal might finally come to an end. Surgery was set for June 16.

But in late May, Aetna denied the surgery. She fought Aetna’s decision through a lengthy appeals process. Aetna refused to budge.

“It’s just not right,” Rittereiser said.

She said she recently went to Aetna’s website to look up the company’s values. She felt nauseated. “Everything in their core values is not being shown in the way I’m being treated. They’re talking about promoting wellness and health and ‘being by your side.’ ”

She paused, contemplating the company’s “by your side” catchphrase, saying it’s “the most ridiculous thing, because they are the biggest barrier to my success and my well-being going forward.

“It drives me crazy.”

Dad: ‘You get so angry’

Julie Pressman stood near an elevator at her doctor’s office when word came that Cara’s surgery had been denied. The mom fell to the floor and wept.

She called Cara’s father, Robert. He was at the airport picking up his 90-year-old parents for their birthday party. Mom and Dad rallied for their daughter and gathered strength to break the news. That’s when Cara sat in the red chair, crying inconsolably.

“Telling Cara was horrible,” her mom said. “Horrible.”

“It’s just so frustrating for us to know there’s a solution out there — a way to fix our daughter — and some bureaucratic machine is preventing this from happening,” Robert Pressman said. “You get so angry, but you don’t know who to take it out on, because there’s no particular person that’s doing it. It’s this big bureaucracy that’s preventing this from happening.”

Julie and Robert said the most beautiful day of their lives came on August 20, 2002, when Cara popped into the world and met her 2-year-old sister, Lindsey, for the first time. “That was the day we became a family,” Julie said. “Our love for those girls is amazing. How we got this lucky is beyond us.”

But that luck has been tested. When Cara was 9, she’d complained of extreme headaches for much of the day one evening, and then in the middle of the night, she began seizing uncontrollably. The family had two black Labradors that had gone to her room and barked like crazy to alert her parents. Cara had bitten her tongue, and blood was running down her face when they got to the room.

It was a terrifying scene. She was rushed off in an ambulance and underwent a battery of tests. Mom, Dad and Cara never thought they’d still be battling seizures six years later — let alone an insurance company. She’s had seizures on the soccer field, during softball games, on stage during plays, in the classroom. Almost everywhere.

How does she envision a life without seizures?

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never had a life without seizures.”

“You will. You will,” her dad told her.

“I just don’t know when,” she responded.

Mom: “It will happen, kiddo.”

Her mother calls Cara a feisty, petite powerhouse with big marble eyes and long eyelashes and a funny wit to match. She’s a naturally gifted athlete, singer and dancer, but her parents feel that her seizures have kept her from reaching her full potential.

They long for the day when the seizures are gone. The parents said they have paid $24,000 for insurance with Aetna this year. They’re determined to get Cara laser ablation surgery with or without the insurance company’s help. They will appeal Aetna’s latest rejection — but they’re not optimistic.

In preparation, they’ve begun exploring raiding their retirement funds to pay the $300,000 out of pocket. “Cara is worth every penny, but man,” her mom said. ” ‘Screw Aetna,’ indeed, to quote my kid.”

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports http://fox4kc.com/2017/12/11/girl-has-blunt-message-for-insurance-company-after-brain-surgery-request-denied/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2017/12/11/girl-has-blunt-message-for-insurance-company-after-brain-surgery-request-denied/