#it's been two months since my mom was hospitalised and

[alongtidesoflight]

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[idontplaytrack]

Hey again 🙃

Can you write another fic in the same style as Regina X Janis X Regina's younger sister? It doesn't matter the theme or anything, I just really liked it and wanted to read more, if you feel comfortable writing, of course, it doesn't have to be a continuation or be from the same universe (or age) just in that dynamic, please

Try Again

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George + little sister reader

Warnings: eating disorder mentions & descriptions/relapse. Hospitalisation, coarse language & angst. Reader discretion advised.

Set about 6 months after Regina and Janis first find out about reader’s eating disorder, the relapse of Regina’s bulimia was a wake-up call to reader to lead a better life for herself

Following the divorce of your parents, Regina was honestly the only one that understood you. Especially since the fact that you had an eating disorder— like she did. The last half a year was a gruelling experience to get through, session after session of crying, of irritation, getting angry at yourself when you had times where you stumbled in your road to recovery. Today was not a good day. You woke up feeling a sense of dread, the dread of having to get out of bed, and actually having to do things. You felt lazy, like all you wanted to do was lay in bed and not worry about anything. But, you’ve been at home for the last two days without anything to do, so it was about time to get out of the house and get some fresh air…some sun. Summer’s only just begun, so you had plenty of time to be lazy after today. Right? No.

You heard a distant thud. From Regina’s room. Worried, you rushed there, opening the door up quickly. “Shit.” You muttered, “Regina!” Your sister had just passed out, laying lifeless right before your eyes. You scrambled to her bed to grab her phone so you could call for an ambulance. You told them what happened and they said they’d he here as soon as they could.

You were alone, your Mom was off in Colombia for a vacation for a month (maybe more, she said). So, everything was a blur to you. You had no idea what to do except wait for the ambulance to get Regina to the hospital. You went with them in the ambulance, and when the doctors were working on her, you took the time to inform Janis.

“Janis?”

“Oh, hey. It’s you. What’s up, honey?”

“Regina’s in the hospital. She passed out at home. I think she had a relapse.” You fought the tears so desperately to get your words out clearly but still sniffled. At least it was after you were done speaking.

“Oh, my God,” A soft gasp was heard, “I’m on my way. Which hospital?”

You let her know, then promptly hung up. You weren’t sure how long it’d been since you got off the phone call. But you sure were snapped out of your daze when Janis was calling your name and put her hand on your shoulder. You were startled out of your trance, looking up at her blankly. Your vision was still very much clouded from all the crying.

“I was so wrapped up in my own world that I didn’t care that she was not doing well again—”

“No.” Janis interjected, “Stop. You’re blaming yourself for this. It’s not on you. Her recovery is her recovery. Your recovery is yours. If you’re both struggling at the same time, it is so challenging to be looking out for the other person. Sometimes you just gotta be focusing on yourself because that’s what is needed. It’s not a competition, it’s not your sole responsibility to look after her. She’s got a part to play in her own well-being. I tried to, to help her this time but I could not get through to her, I’ve never seen her like this.”

Janis hugs you— she put her arms around you. And typically, that would shock you. It did, but in this moment all you could care about was the fact that you had someone with you. “Did you tell June?”

“Not yet.” You sniffed, “She’s on vacation in Colombia with—”

Janis nodded, “Carmelo or whatever his name was. Regina told me like— the second your Mom left the house to go to the airport.”

“y/n?” Someone asks following the sound of doors creaking open.

“Doctor Langdon.” You said to him, standing up. Her approaches you and Janis.

“According to her file she has a history of bulimia which you know of, so to be very honest with you, we’re shocked she hasn’t had this happen before given how early it started.”

“Well, she’s been in recovery for about a year.”

“Which is good, but is she seeing anyone for her mental health? It’s not indicated in her file. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name…you are?”

“I’m Janis. And she has been. But lately, less frequent. She’s going through a lot right now.”

“Janis. She passed out due to dehydration but her bulimia definitely was a contributing factor to it. She has to work on a recovery plan that is most effective, with her therapist. If she keeps this up, her heart will very likely give out. There is already an infection in her lungs because she’d aspirated some of the food.”

“So—” Janis began to ask the doctor a question, but you couldn’t take the pressure of it all and just excused yourself, on the verge of tears.

“That’s…pneumonia. Yes?” Janis asked.

“Yeah. We’ve put her on IV antibiotics and some fluids to get rid of the infection, and for dehydration but it will recur if she keeps up with the purging. She’s been putting herself at risk for that, and much worse. It is a tough thing to tackle, I get it. I’ve seen this more than I liked to doing this job. A few of them weren’t so lucky, their lives were taken away. She has hope, to get better. Recovery is never always linear and I acknowledge that she has done a lot of work, but she has to try again. Get out of the claws of that disorder.”

“I understand. Thanks.”

“The girl who ran away, that’s her sister, right? I don’t want to pry but I’m noticing the same things with her too.”

“It— god, their home life’s messy. Dad’s out of the picture and her mom’s currently on vacation in Colombia so she’s been alone.”

“I’ve…been their doctor for awhile. I’ve noticed some stuff, I referred Regina and her sister to their therapists.” The doctor admits.

Janis didn’t know what to say so she just nodded, “Would the hospital inform their Mom?”

“We did try to call her a few times but she didn’t pick up.” Doctor Landon told her.

“I’ll try as well. Are we allowed to go inside to see her?”

“Yes, that’s absolutely fine.”

“Okay.” Janis nodded solemnly, mumbling a ‘thanks’ as the doctor departed.

————

Janis found you at the garden located at the end of the level you guys were on. It also helped that she had access to yours and Regina’s locations. Nonetheless, she was so relieved to find you. “Hey.”

You slowly looked up at her, teary eyed. “Hi.” You mumbled, “I’m sorry. I got scared hearing that.”

“That’s a good thing, you know? Feeling the fear. You know you need to get better. You’re not just putting in the effort for the heck of it. You know you need to get your own life back, y/n. And that…that’s great. That’s a step in the right direction.”

You nodded slightly, then asked, “Is she awake?”

“Not sure, I left to come look for you. You wanna go back there and see if she’s up?”

“Okay.”

You went back to the hospital room with Janis, she went inside with you. Regina had just woken up. Obviously, she knew she was in a hospital, she just didn’t know why. “Regina.” You sat down on the chair beside her bed, “I…am honestly pretty mad at you. But I don’t have the right to be, because I…am doing the same thing to myself. Slowly but surely killing myself.”

She looks at you, gaze going soft as she soon realised what you were talking about. “I’ve been trying so hard, but one day I just lost the fight. I have in to the urge after a year and a half, all because some little bitch boy at school said I was eating everyone’s food. Which wasn’t true, but it was just how my brain decided to fuck with me.” Regina scoffs, “I couldn’t stop. I just couldn’t. But— I — I cannot lose you, y/n. You’re all I’ve got left now. Mom? Let’s face it, all she cares about right now is her new boyfriend. She’s like obsessed with him.”

“You have pneumonia.” Janis said, “It’s a complication.”

Regina sighs, “I’m sorry. Please know I’m trying.”

“I know, babe. I know you are, and sometimes, it’s okay to stumble. But you need to remember to try again. Try and try again, you’ve got a life worth fighting for, so much you want to accomplish. And maybe it’s a little selfish, but I want to be able to love and hold you for many, many more years.”

Regina started to weep, nodding, “I— I’ll work something else out with my therapist. Try another method to work towards recovery again. I need to stay. I can’t do that to you, to y/n, to myself. I deserve to make a life for myself that I am proud of.”

Janis sits down, leaning into cup Regina’s cheek, “I love you, I’m here for you. And you, y/n. I promise, we’ll get through this.”

You and Janis stayed with Regina until visiting hours were over, then, she drove you to her place. Where you spent the night, then, eventually the next few. “I’m gonna cook something.” She says, walking to the kitchen, “What do you feel like having? We can cook together.”

“Whatever’s fine. You’re a great cook.” You told the brunette, “Is it okay if I just nap right here? I’m pretty tired.”

“Oh.” She turned to look at you over the shoulder, “Yeah, of course. Go ahead, y/n. I’ll wake you up once dinner’s ready.”

You smiled appreciatively, “Thanks.” Janis smiled back, you got comfortable on the couch and closed your eyes while she began to prepare dinner.

Some time later, Janis shook you gently to wake you up, “Dinner’s ready.”

“Okay.” You murmured sleepily, “I’m up.”

You got up and off the couch, dragging your feet over to the dinner table. Janis turned the TV on and put on a comedy movie so that you two were entertained and distracted, honestly, while eating.

“Thanks, Jan.” You smiled, grabbing a fork and digging right into the aglio olio she cooked, “This is so good.”

“Aw, you’re welcome.” She chuckles.

“Is it okay if I just stay with you for a bit? I don’t really want to go home.”

“Of course!” She nodded, “I’m usually alone if I’m not with Regina or Damian anyway. Damian’s at theatre camp, so I’m just not having much fun with myself.”

You chuckled, “Well, how about we go pottery painting tomorrow? We could paint Regina something. She’ll be there a few days, after all. What else am I supposed to do? Mope around?”

Janis gasps, “Great idea. We should definitely do that.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭A/N:

I didn’t want to make this fic too heavy content-wise, so it turned out quite short. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed. 🫶🏼

[applejuicefruit]

im here on my knees begging you to write one more chance part 2 please we need it 😩😩😩😩😩😩

Since I’ve got so many requests about part 2…

HERE YOU GO✨❤️

One more chance pt. 2

Kylian’s P.O.V.

It’s been two months and y/n was still in coma.

I didn’t know what to do.

I’ve lost hope and faith. The doctors were trying everything but it wasn’t working.

My routine consisted of me going to see her every morning before training, every evening after training and when the nurses let me, I would sleep next to her. There wasn’t much they could do either. They just felt sad for me.

Her family couldn’t stay in Paris for that long so I called her mum every single day. We’ve become pretty close since the accident happened.

This morning, as every morning, I woke up, went to the hospital and then made it to training.

We have a match tonight I want to give 100% of me.

I changed and made it into the field.

Hakimi always checking on me like a brother would do.

I spoke less.

I hardly spoke with my teammates.

I’ve been eating less and training more.

I know it was bad for my health but I couldn’t help it.

After a couple of hours of training we all made it back into the changing room as it was time to go to eat.

I sat on the bench so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t even hear my phone ringing.

Instead Neymar answered for me.

“Ky…it’s the hospital” he said and I didn’t even let him finish that I took my bag and my car keys and got out of the changing room.

Neymar and Achraf following me.

I drove at inhuman speed towards the hospital that I’m lucky the police didn’t even stopped me.

I got into the level she was hospitalised and I saw her doctors and nurses out of her room

“Kylian…” one of the doctors said coming towards me.

“What is going on?” I said almost screaming.

“She’s getting worse…not even the machine is helping her to breathe, we tried everything…”

Where they thinking what I was thinking?

They wanted to turn off the machine and let her die?

“So?” I asked already knowing the answer.

“It’s been more than two months and, as much as we want her to wake up we don’t know if she’ll ever be able to do it…the machine could help someone who needs it” the doctor tried to explain to me

“Who needs it more than her?” I cried, Neymar grabbing my shoulders because I wanted to punch the doctor straight in the face.

“Kylian…” on of the nurses tried talking to me but I wouldn’t listen to her.

“No! You can’t do it! You…you need my consent to do it”

“Since you’re not married you can’t make this decision, otherwise her family has already decided”

What does it mean?

In that exact moment I saw her mom coming out from y/l’s room.

“Y/m/n” I called going towards her “tell me this isn’t your idea! Tell me you didn’t tell them to do it!”

“Kylian…” she said crying “she won’t wake up and you know it, she’s in pain and I can’t see her like this”

“How can you say this? She’s your daughter! You’re killing her!” I screamed grabbing her from her jacket.

She flinched a bit but I didn’t care.

Neymar and Achraf had to grab me by my shoulders because I was getting violent.

“As her mother I already have made that decision and there’s nothing you can’t stay that’ll change my mind…” she said leaving the hospital.

“When?” I asked the doctors.

“Tomorrow” they said before leaving me alone.

I was going to lose her forever.

I knelt down in the middle of the ward and I started crying harder.

Neymar and Hakimi knelt down with me and tried to support me but it wasn’t working since they started crying too.

It took me almost 40 minutes to calm down.

How could I say goodbye to the person I love the most?

I wasn’t ready.

How could her family do something like this to her?

“You good?” Neymar asked me while I was sitting outside of the hospital.

I simply nodded.

One night.

That’s what they gave her.

That’s all the time I have left with her.

I wanted to stay with her so I asked the doctors if I could spend the last night of her life with her. I tried to fight but I got tired. I knew this pain will never end.

Then night came.

“Hi babe…” I said entering her room.

Her face has recovered from all the bruises and just had a few scars.

I sat next to her holding her hand as I always did.

“Do you remember the first time we met? You were visiting Paris all by yourself and one night you got lost and you didn’t have anybody to call” I said laughing a bit “you kept asking people for directions but most of the wouldn’t even answer you, till you asked me in which direction you had to go…I honestly had no idea where you needed to go but I helped you” I remembered now fully crying “It took us 45 minutes to get to your hotel and that same night I gave you my phone number, you know, just in case…and the next morning you called me asking if I knew any good restaurants…that was the moment I knew I was in love with you…” I placed my head over her chest and laid there “your light and kindness made me fall in love with you, your beautiful eyes and smile, you’re the love of my life and always will be” I kept sobbing “so please, I’m begging you come back to me baby, please….please I-I can’t live without you.”

But nothing.

She wasn’t even moving.

That night I fell asleep on that uncomfortable chair holding her hand when around 3 am some weird noises woke me up.

I couldn’t focus, everything was dark and my eyes were heavy and red.

And that’s when I felt it.

Her hand slowly moving into mine.

I didn’t know if I was dreaming or if it was reality.

She coughed a bit and that’s when I knew she was awake.

“Kyky?” she tried to said in a very soft voice I wasn’t even sure I heard it right.

“Ky?” she called me again.

“Hey-hey…shhh” I said standing up and turning on the lights.

“Ky what happened?” she asked and that was when I saw her, it wasn’t a dream she was really awake.

“Shhhh…you’re okay…you had an accident but you’re awake now” I said now fully crying but tears of joy “it was a very bad accident, I almost lost you…” I tried to explain but she looked scared and confused.

“What?” she asked

“You’ve been in a coma for two months, I thought I lost you forever” I said holding her hand and kissing her gently.

She was still processing the informations I gave her. She was confused and scared…

“Two months?” she asked now crying. I nodded.

She tried to move her back a little bit but I stopped and run out of the room to call a doctor.

“Stay here…” I told her leaving her room.

After hours and hours of exams y/l was told she needed to stay a few more days at the hospital but that her injuries were almost recovered. Her broken leg and ribs recovered. Her concussion was still to keep an eye on but nothing major. The doctors couldn’t explain how she went to almost dead to being alive in so little time.

They said it was the medicine.

I said it was a miracle.

Now I was helping her standing up. She hasn’t walked for two months and now she could already felt her legs but the doctors said it was normal.

When her legs touched the floor they both gave up.

“I got you” I said catching her and helping her to get dressed “I always got you” I kissed her and God, how much I missed those lips. She smiled a bit into the kiss and so did I.

The next week came and I finally brought her home. She still needed help walking but I didn’t mind. I could carry her for the rest of my life.

“I’m so happy to be back home!” she said happily while i put her on the couch covering her up with a fluffy blanket.

“I’m so happy to have you back home, this place was so sad without you” I told her while I sat behind her and hold her. I started kissing her neck in the spot I know she loved.

“Kyky…” she said almost moaning my name.

I knew I had to stop before I hurt her more. She was still fragile and in pain but I couldn’t contain my happiness in having her back.

Instead I laughed into her neck and held her tight.

One thing I know for sure is that she’s never gonna drive a car again in the rest of her life.

[stardewlegends]

[Part 2] The Day After The Day Before | Sebastian x Reader, Platonic!Sam x Reader (Angst, mild Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Mandatory) Age: 18+ Trigger Warnings: Implied non-con, implied sexual assault, physical violence, blood, miscarriage, forced pregnancy, physical violence, verbal abuse, bleeding, head injury, hospitalisation, explicit language Ship: Sebastian x Reader, Platonic!Sam x Reader, implied Sam x Sebastian x Reader Summary: She'd heard so many good things about her best friend, Sam's, father, Kent, and it was true, he was lovely! Right up until he wasn't. How was she meant to tell Sebastian? Sam? The answer is simple: she couldn't. But apparently she couldn't hide it either. Request: N/A Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 6k

---

Almost six months have passed since the day (Y/N) learnt she was pregnant with that monster’s child. She decided to keep the baby. It was a hard decision, unsure whether she’d permanently be traumatised every time she looked at her child but thought about it more prominently as Sam’s brother than Kent’s son or daughter.

Sebastian and Sam, as promised, supported her the whole way. It’s not like she had anyone else. Harvey and Maru were judge-free too and have been helping her throughout the entire process.

Sebastian and Sam moved on to the farm with her, Sam occupying the spare room whilst Sebastian shared hers. It was fun. They helped her grow once again into the bright, chatty woman she once was before he took it all away.

Jodi never welcomed Sam back into their home after that Godforsaken day. She spread rumours about Kent’s beaten up face. Said that Sebastian had gaslighted Sam into abusing the family. Said that Sebastian was the one who raped (Y/N). Oh, yeah, a real likely story. Robin and Demetrius tried to get answers out of Sebastian about what actually happened, but he didn’t give them any information. He simply told his mother that he was moving onto the farm with (Y/N) and Sam to support her as she’s pregnant. Clarified it wasn’t his child. Robin didn’t interfere much more than that, Demetrius making snark comments at the boy which is just ignored.

Abigail regularly came by when she could, but Caroline forbid it. Naturally, Jodi opened her mouth and made the farmer the talk of the town. No one really gossiped about it except Jodi. She would do anything to protect her husband, and if that meant making everyone in Pelican Town hate the little bitch who took over the farm then so be it.

On the farm, Sam absolutely adored her chickens. Who knew the skater boy enjoyed farming so much? Sebastian enjoyed collecting fruit from all the trees, being sad in Winter when that wasn’t something he could do. They always went out foraging for some crystal fruits though. The pair made sure that she didn’t have to lift a finger anymore. Not whilst pregnant.

“I wanna go to the saloon.” (Y/N) admits one Friday night as the trio are watching some grid ball game on the television.

The two men look at her with surprised expressions on their faces.

“You serious?”

She nods but keeps her eyes on the screen across the room.

“I miss playing pool on Friday nights. I miss Gus and Emily listening to my boring farm talk, I miss Clint telling me about what cool shit he managed to forge together out of the leftover ore I had, I miss Willy’s voice shaking the place as he tells Clint all about some huge as Scorpion Carp he found…” The woman trails off. “I miss being normal.” “Then let’s go to the saloon.” Sam states. “People are gonna stare…” The woman trails off. “Let them; you look stunning.” Sebastian tells her, watching her blush and curl into him. “He’s right.” The blond adds, smirking and flashing a wink. “Come on, you’ve got me and Seb by your side - nothing will happen to you. Besides, as much as my mom is capable of opening her huge fucking mouth, the town adores you too much to listen.”

(Y/N) wishes she believed him. She’s trying to.

Sam calls up Abigail, asking her to come down and meet them at the saloon. She’s never been so excited to watch the boys play pool.

They walk down, basking in the late-Spring breeze that surrounds them.

“I’ve missed town.” (Y/N) sighs, smiling at the sight of the buildings around her in the town square. “I dunno why, it’s shite.” Sebastian remarks, the trio chuckling at the sarcasm.

They come to a halt outside of the Stardrop, the two men patiently waiting for the woman to be ready to go inside.

“It’ll be okay. My family don’t even come in here.” Sam reassures.

She nods and they finally enter. Peoples heads turn to acknowledge whoever has just walked in and the chat immediately dies down.

(Y/N) wonders if Sebastian is nervous, knowing the rumours were that he’s the one who knocked her up without consent. He doesn’t seem phased. The truth is he isn’t. The people who matter know the truth, and anyone who believes the lies aren’t worth having around.

The farmer’s convinced everyone heard her gulp.

Sam and Sebastian don’t falter, the latter reaching for the woman’s hiding and offering an encouraging smile. He’ll take anything that is thrown her way. Both of them will. She knows it. She’s grateful.

As Sebastian leads her into the pool room, Elliott’s voice speaks up.

“(Y/N),” He calls, the woman freezing. Sam and Sebastian do too. The trio turn to look at the man sitting at the bar, everyone’s eyes on them. “It’s good to see you back.”

The tears that well up in her eyes are staining her cheeks before she can even attempt to hide them.

Elliott smiles and stands up, Leah admiring his confidence, approaching the farmer, opening his arms for a hug which she graciously accepts.

“Thank you so much.” She whimpers into his burgundy jacket. “No need, little lady. We’ve missed you more than you know.”

The red-head offers a smile at the two men whom the farmer walked in with, them returning it with a nod.

“How many weeks are you now?” He asks, admiring the prominent bump under the woman’s dress. “Twenty-four.” She whispers, naturally resting her hands there. “You know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” “Keeping it a surprise.” “Nice.”

Elliott heads back to the bar, taking a seat by Leah, and (Y/N) continues her path toward the pool table with Sebastian and Sam.

The tension is already gone thanks to Elliott and the night is pretty relaxing. Abigail joins them shortly after they arrive, her constantly talking to the baby bump as if it’s gonna respond.

“I’m gonna go order a drink from the bar - I wanna chat with Gus and Emily.” (Y/N) states, her three friends nodding and smiling in admiration. “Okay, doll; we’ll be right here.”

She nods at Sebastian with a smile before heading over to the bar, standing beside Elliott.

“Hey, Gus,” She greets, the bartender offering her a warm smile. “Evenin’, farmer. Good to see ya face again. What’re ya havin’?”

She giggles at his attempted farmer’s accent.

“Just a blackcurrant and soda water, please?” “Comin’ right up, ma’am.” “It really is good to see your face again, (Y/N).” Elliott comments, turning to face the woman once again. “I appreciate it so much.” She whispers, tearing up again.

He smiles and wraps his arm around her before picking up his drink.

“Ladies and Gents, if I could have your attention, please,” The red-head begins, (Y/N)’s eyes widening. “I’d like to raise a toast to our sweetheart of a farmer who joined our wonderful town and naturally made it a better place. She hasn’t been able to have our support lately but I’d like everyone now to raise a toast to this little lady in congratulations of the wonderful baby they’re carrying.” He announces, eyes locking with everyone in the bar. “To (Y/N)!”

And everyone does toast. Drinks in the air. Everyone cheering. Hell, even Clint does and he’s as quiet as anything.

The woman hides her face in Elliott’s jacket in embarrassment. He chuckles and strokes her back.

There’s some fun chat and banter throughout the bar as (Y/N) catches up with everyone, quickly feeling a lot more welcome in her local despite what her worrying thoughts warned her about.

So much fun going on that she doesn’t acknowledge the saloon doors opening.

“Well, well, well, this all looks awfully friendly.”

(Y/N) freezes up at the voice. She’s stood at the bar talking to Emily, the door directly behind her, along with the wife of that monster.

“Surprised the whore actually decided to show her face again.”

The farmer’s eyes clench shut as she fears everything that’s about to happen. Sam and Sebastian hear the voice and stride over to the archway that connects the pool room to the main bar.

“I presume you’ve also fucked the bitch by now, Samson.” Jodi snarks, turning to look at her son who stares her down.

Sebastian looks ready to kill.

“Jodi, I’m afraid if you’re going to be rude, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Gus states, trying to remain professional.

The woman smirks.

“Why do I have to leave when that little rat has been spreading her legs for everyone in order to ruin my life!?”

(Y/N) is trembling now, hands gripping onto the bar as if it’s keeping her from collapsing.

“Jodi,” Elliott speaks up, giving the woman a glare that tells her not to start. “Gus asked you to leave.” “Are you all stupid!?” “Mom-” “Don’t you dare call me your fucking mother!” Jodi instantly interrupts her son, pointing her finger.

Sam gulps but is prepared to fight this battle.

“And you!” The woman continues, pointing at the dark-haired boy standing beside her son. “You manipulative, gaslighting little shit!”

Sebastian doesn’t falter at her words. She’s delusional.

“What did you think you’d gain out of making my own son hate his father!?” “Kent did that himself.” The boy remarks, Jodi’s eyes flaring up with more anger. “You’re sick. You’re fucked in the head.”

Sebastian’s convinced that if his mother was here, she’d have lost her shit at Jodi by now.

“Perhaps, but my husband didn’t rape someone half his age whilst still married, so I guess I’ve got that going for me.”

The tension in the room is suffocating. People’s eyes widen as they acknowledge the truth in Sebastian’s words. Kent was the one who got her pregnant.

“Let’s just go.” (Y/N) manages, turning to look at her two best friends.

Jodi scoffs.

“Yeah, that’s right, run back to that petty little farm that you can’t even run properly so drag those two down with you. My son had a future before you fucked him up!”

The farmer sighs and turns around to finally meet Jodi’s glare.

The woman’s eyes widen at the sight of her belly and (Y/N) very rapidly realises that Jodi didn’t know.

“You have got to be fucking joking me.”

The woman at the bar freezes, shaking once more.

“I’m just gonna go home.” She manages, taking a step forward and turning toward the archway where her two best friends are standing, but that’s when Sebastian screams.

“NO!”

Everything happens too fast.

(Y/N)’s head whips back around just in time to see Jodi lunging for her, shoving the farmer with enough force to send her stumbling back into the bar, knocking the wind out of her, before falling into the bar stools and to the ground.

Sebastian and Sam dove forward but weren’t as fast as the silent man in the blue Joja jacket who grabs Jodi by her throat and slams her up against the wall of the saloon.

(Y/N)’s breaths are heavy, moaning in pain, hands wrapping around her belly as her two best friends drop down beside her, along with Elliott and Leah.

“I was always taught to never hit a woman but you’re no fucking lady.” Shane all but growls as Jodi gasps for breath, hands clawing at the man’s hand in an attempt to alleviate his grip. “Shane-” She gasps, eyes wide. “I could fucking kill you, you know that?” The man warns, grip not faltering. “You had the audacity to tell everyone in this town that Sebastian touched her without permission when in reality it was your shit-eating husband.” “Shane…” Marnie’s voice manages to reach his ears. He forgot she was here, to be honest. He doesn’t care.

Marnie isn’t telling him to stop, no. Marnie agrees wholeheartedly with his actions. He knows that. She’s warning him to be careful. To not get caught.

With another shove into the wall, Shane drops the woman, Jodi dropping to her knees as she gasps for breath once more. The man spins around and acknowledges Sebastian and Sam helping the pregnant woman stand up.

And that’s when he sees it.

“Get her to Harvey.” He states, eyes wide. “Yeah, no shit.” Sam manages, not intending to come across harshly. “No, seriously,” Shane adds. “Guys…” Elliott speaks up, Sebastian and Sam looking down and seeing the red stains on the floor where (Y/N) was lay.

The same red stains at the bottom of her dress. The same red stains leaking down her legs.

The two boys’ eyes widen and they look at one another before looking at the girl they’re holding who’s eyes are also on the mess.

“No…” She whimpers, legs giving in but Sebastian and Sam catch her. “Come on, baby, we’ve gotta get you to Harvey. The dark-haired boy manages, heading toward the door. “No, no, no, no, no, please!” She’s screaming. Sobbing. Her heart is shattering and everyone can see it.

Shane opens the door for the boys, sprinting ahead and banging on Harvey’s door.

“HARV, OPEN UP! EMERGENCY!” He yells, Sam and Sebastian slowly approaching with the screaming woman in their arms. “FOR FUCKS SAKE, HARVEY, OPEN UP!”

The doctor sprints to the door scared that Shane has relapsed once again, but this is so much worse.

“She’s bleeding.” They’re the only words Sam manages as he meets the scared gaze of Harvey.

He nods and ushers them inside, quickly preparing a bed for the woman where he injects her with some substance or other to knock her out, her screams dying down.

Sam and Sebastian are stood by the bed, bloodstains on their clothes, eyes wide as Harvey begins to work on the woman.

“Guys, come on, you’ve gotta let him work.” Shane attempts, they listen. They stare at the woman with lost eyes but let Shane lead them outside of the room.

They’re lost. Sam and Sebastian. Shane is talking to them both but neither of them can understand any of the words he’s saying. They simply manage to find each others’ gaze and cling onto each other in a bone-shattering hug.

Shane’s breaths are heavy. He isn’t exactly best friends with the farmer but she’s the only one who never judged him. She would always sit with him and have a drink. Buy him a pint or two. Saved his life when he hit an all-time low. He saw her as a friend, and she saw him as an equal. That was more than enough for him.

When he heard the gossip that Kent was attacked by Sebastian because the soldier threatened to expose that the quiet emo both was a rapist, he didn’t believe it. How could he? (Y/N) treated Sebastian with the same amount of care that she treated himself with. Now he knows he was right. Sebastian isn’t a bad guy, but that fucking asshole…

Hours pass. How many? Neither of the men are sure. Sebastian told Shane to go home after he calmed down. Thanked the man for defending (Y/N). Shane could only apologise that he wasn’t quick enough to stop the initial hit - Sam and Sebastian told him it wasn’t his fault. He wishes he believed them.

Harvey’s footsteps echo across the surgery, Sam and Sebastian immediately up on their feet and looking at the man with so much anticipation

“She’s still out but will probably wake in the next hour or so.” The doctor begins, the men somewhat nodding but awaiting the more important information.

Harvey sighs and removes his glasses from his face and ruffling his hair.

“Gents, I’m sorry, but the baby didn’t make it.”

Sebastian’s body starts to shut down. He remains frozen, eyes staring lifelessly at the brunet in front of him.

“Seb,” Sam whispers, noticing the absence of life in his friend.

The blond’s heartbroken. He’s crying. Not only was that his best friend’s kid, it was his half-brother.

Sebastian’s face turns to look at Sam, still remaining stoic.

“Why her?” He whispers, Harvey tearing up at the question. “What did she ever do to deserve this?”

Sam lets out a sob and shakes his head, looking around the room for the answer that doesn’t exist.

“She didn’t deserve this.” Is all he can whisper.

Another two hours pass. The two men are sitting on either side of her bed as she stirs. No words have been said between them.

A groan rumbles in her throat as the blinding light of the hospital room takes over her vision.

Sebastian is holding one hand whilst Sam is holding the other.

“Take it easy.” Sebastian whispers.

When the room finally starts to make more sense, the woman glances over at Sebastian and Sam.

“Hey…” It’s muffled against the oxygen mask covering her face. “Hi, gorgeous.” The dark-haired boy murmurs, forcing a smile despite his painfully obvious tear-stains.

She takes a moment to remember everything that happened but the gasp that escapes her follows a number of beeps from the monitors she’s hooked up to.

“Woah, hey, hey, hey, baby, calm down,” “Woah, (Y/N), it’s okay!”

Sam and Sebastian are both up on their feet trying to calm the now frantic woman down.

“Breathe, baby, breathe.” Sebastian attempts, watching her head drop down and hands jump to her, now, flat belly. “No, no, no, NO, NO, NO!” She’s ripping the mask off of her face, tearing at all the wires in her body, throwing the bedsheets off of her as she gets a better look at her stomach.

Sebastian wraps his arms fully around the woman, cocooning her against him, whilst Sam stumbles back and throws his head back against the wall. His fists are clenched as silent tears pour down his face.

It took the woman months to come to terms with her pregnancy and decide she wanted it, picturing the perfect life with Sebastian and Sam by her side, but it's been ripped away from her.

“WHERE’S MY BABY!? WHERE’S MY BABY!?” She’s screaming, Sebastian sobbing and trying to keep her trapped against his body to stop her flailing about. “(Y/N), doll, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay, breathe for me.”

Harvey comes sprinting into the room and sees the state of the woman who’s just woken.

“SOMEBODY TELL ME WHERE MY BABY IS-” The woman’s screams fade out as Harvey injects her with some sort of drug to knock her out. “I’m sorry, I was upstairs organising some files.” The doctor utters, Sebastian pulling back from the woman so Harvey can fix up her wires.

The two boys don’t respond.

“What do we do, Harvey?” Sam whispers, still leaning against the wall, staring aimlessly at the unconscious woman. “She’s going to take a while to recover but with the right support around her, I think she’ll be fine.”

More silence.

“Can she ever get pregnant again?” Sebastian manages, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

It’s barely enough to relieve either of the men.

“Can she have sex?” The darker-haired boy continues to ask as many questions as possible, wanting to be ready to answer everything the woman may have when she wakes again. “Yes, but I would recommend waiting a couple of weeks before inserting anything into her vagina. Her cervix is open so she’s prone to infection.” Harvey answers all the questions with explicit professionalism. “Is she gonna be in pain?” Sam manages, his eyes flitting to Harvey for a moment before returning to (Y/N). “Some pain in the lower abdomen, similar to menstrual cramp pain, is quite common after a miscarriage,”

Sebastian’s eyes clench shut at the word itself.

“This should only last a couple of days really; if there’s any noticeably bad pain then you can come back to me and I can offer painkillers, but I won’t let her out of here until she feels up to it anyway.”

They both manage a nod.

“Is there anything we can do for her?” “She needs to continue to eat and drink plenty even though she may not feel up to it. Try and stop her doing physical work on the farm, she needs rest.” The boys continue to nod in understanding as Harvey speaks. “She will probably struggle to sleep for a while honestly.”

There’s silence after that as Harvey switches about the wires and tubes in the woman’s body.

“If she wakes up again, press this button and I’ll be right in.” “Thanks, Harvey.”

It’s an hour later when the doctor returns with a knock at the door.

“Sorry to interrupt, gents, but Robin is here and has asked if she can see you, Sebastian?” Harvey states, Sam looking at his friend, curious for the response. “Is she welcome in here?”

Harvey nods.

“Of course.”

A moment later, another knock followed by Robin’s entry. She looks like she’s going to cry when she looks at (Y/N)’s, practically lifeless, body laying on the medical bed.

“Hi…” She whispers, looking at her son with uncertainty.

Sebastian stands up and hugs his mother in that moment.

“Oh, Sebby…”

A sob escapes the boy’s lips.

“She didn’t deserve any of this, mom.”

Robin remains silent for a moment, glancing over at the blond across the room who’s staring at the floor, crying once again.

“What’s gone on, Sebastian?” She whispers, hands stroking the back of her heartbroken son.

The pair pull back and sit down, Sebastian’s eyes returning to the unconscious woman.

“(Y/N) and I have had a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement for a little while now - discussed dating and stuff but decided we’re not quite ready for it,” The boy begins, Robin holding his hand and stroking it. “I know full well I’ll never love another woman the same way I love her.”

He pauses, trying to find a starting point.

“When you and Demetrius were away on your anniversary trip, I had Abigail, (Y/N) and Sam over to play some video games and shit. Everyone left except (Y/N), but she was packing her stuff as if ready to leave; she normally stays the night. I wrapped my arms around her and asked if she was leaving already but she froze.” He pauses, remembering the exact moment he held the woman he loves in his arms and she froze up like he just made the worst mistake of his life. “Like, really froze. It scared me. I let go. She said she had some farm stuff to take care of and started heading toward the door but I grabbed her wrist - not hard! But she fucking screamed. Stumbled into the wall and stared at me like I just burnt her.”

Robin doesn’t tell the boy off for swearing on this occasion.

“She ran out after that. I was scared shitless. I saw it in her eyes that she was fucking traumatised. She’s never been like that - certainly not with me. She loves physical affection and shit, she would never react like that. Anyway, I sat and thought it over for a while, worried about what the fuck I’d done to make her so fucking scared of me, and realised I hadn’t done anything, and even if I had, she would’ve told me. We’re best friends, she tells me everything…”

Robin is tearing up as she listens to what her son has been through whilst she’s been completely oblivious.

“I decided to deal with it later cause it was late. Next morning I call by Pierre’s to ask Abby for her help, grabbed Sam too, and told them what had happened. Sam immediately suggested that someone’s hurt her, agreeing that it’s not like her to turn down physical affection, especially screaming from a touch. We went to her place - she was still in the same clothes she fell asleep in which worried me too. We asked her if someone had hurt her and she lost it. She broke down in tears as we asked her more and more questions trying to get to the bottom of whatever the fuck had happened.”

Sebastian pauses as he sniffles and wipes the tears from his face.

“She told us she was raped; admitted it was Kent. Said she didn’t wanna tell us because he’s Sam’s dad. She didn’t want Sam to lose the father he’s been waiting years for.”

Robin’s eyes turn to the blond across the room, seeing his eyes clenched shut, fists tight, tears falling.

“Sam didn’t believe her first - I don’t blame him, but I knew (Y/N) would never lie to us, especially about something like this. Sam stormed out and gave Kent a hefty punch or two, I followed - scared Sam might take it too far.”

He fucking deserved it. Those are Sam’s unvoiced thoughts.

“He fucking deserved it though.” Sebastian voices his thoughts anyway. “I went in and Kent was mouthing off some shit about how she was asking for it and shit-talking her, so I lost my fucking cool and gave the guy a good hit.” “Or ten.” Sam quietly remarks, a very brief smirk on his lips. “The asshole deserved it. Anyway, I was stopped because (Y/N) and Abby turned up and I didn’t want her to see that. She passed out after Kent spat out some more utter bullshit. I carried her up to ours since you guys were away - figured she could do with somewhere away from her own house and that fucker’s.”

Robin is crying but lets her son finish.

“I just let her rest for a few days. She didn’t say or do much, we just watched some TV, I read to her, made her food, bla bla, then one day she asked if she could speak to Maru as she realised she could have damage, infections, possible pregnancy, which I hadn’t even fucking thought about.” “You can’t beat yourself up over this, Seb.” Sam manages, sparing a glance at the dark-haired boy.

Sebastian gulps but continues.

“I asked if she was sure and she said yes, so we spoke to Maru who got us in with Harvey that very evening. Found out she was pregnant. We slept on it since she was unsure what she wanted to do. Sam came over the next day to see how (Y/N) was doing - and because Jodi and Kent kicked him out, Jodi losing her shit and saying I was gaslighting them both or some dumb fucking shit,” He takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “We eventually agreed to move to the farm, all three of us, and she decided she was going to keep the baby - wanted to try and get something good out of this whole shit show.” “So when did Kent actually…” Robin trails off, not wanting to break her son even more. “End of Spring - like, a fucking week after he came back to Pelican Town.” Her son confirms. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve heard the drama of what happened in the saloon. (Y/N) decided she missed going out. We were all very aware of Jodi spreading utter bullshit in order to protect to darling husband and whatever, so we’d all been on the down-low for a while. We decided to go to the saloon, Sam and I very ready to protect her from any bullshit thrown her way, but Elliott grabbed our attention as we came in and said she’d been missed. Later in the night, she was chatting to everyone, Elliott raised a toast to congratulate her on her pregnancy, it was really nice to see her smiling again.” “She was glowing.” Sam whispers, Sebastian managing a momentary smile. “Yeah. Anyway, Jodi turns up at like eleven PM, starts shit-talking (Y/N), me, Sam… You probably would’ve smacked her.”

Robin attempts a small chuckle.

“(Y/N) says she’s just gonna leave and doesn’t want to cause any drama, but Jodi obviously wasn’t aware she was pregnant and lost her shit, shoving her back into the bar. She fell down, smacked her body on the stools and her head on the floor. Sam and I were too far away to fucking stop it. Shane stepped in though, pinned the bitch up against the wall and threatened her. (Y/N) was bleeding… a lot. Shane helped Sam and I get her here, but she, uh, the baby didn’t make it.”

Silence.

“And now we’re here.” “What time even is it?” Sam manages. “Just after one PM.” Robin confirms.

The boy nods.

“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk to me about all this. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this has been on you. Both of you.”

Sebastian attempts an appreciative smile but it barely lasts a second.

“Come here, Samson.” Robin adds, standing up and opening her arms for the boy. “Robin, thank you, but-” “Come here.” She doesn’t take no for an answer, simply smiling and accepting the embrace. “You’re always welcome into my home.”

He squeezes a little tighter.

“Thank you.” “You and Sebastian have always been like brothers anyway.”

He pulls back and smiles

“He drives me crazy like a brother.”

She manages a chuckle.

“He drives me crazy like a son.” “I’m right here.” It’s a sarcastic remark from the dark-haired boy. “Has she woken up yet?” The carpenter asks, taking a seat back beside her son. “Yeah, but she realised her bump was gone and lost her mind; Harvey had to inject her with some anaesthetic or something to knock her back out.” “Oh, bless her.”

Some time passes and Robin says she’ll head off, not wanting to intrude when the woman wakes up once more. What she doesn’t tell either of the men is that she’s going to add some renovations to the woman’s farm, free of charge, to help accommodate all three of them, and a baby in future if she wishes to try again.

Sam stands up and walks over to sit beside his best friend, taking his hand.

“I’m sorry, Seb.” “Do you think she’ll be okay?” Sebastian whispers, not taking his eyes off of the girl.

The blond pauses, contemplating his answer.

“We’ll make sure she is.”

Another forty-five minutes pass before the woman begins to stir, Sebastian immediately noticing the way her eyelids twitch. He presses the emergency button to contact Harvey straight away, praying that they can keep her calm enough to stay awake this time round.

The running footsteps resound in the small medical room the three of them are occupying, Harvey unlocking the door with worried eyes.

“She’s twitching a little - stirring - I think she’s gonna wake up; I figured I’d get you here first.” Sebastian briefs, the doctor nodding and checking over her machines and stats once again.

The woman groans, feeling exhausted, which is bizarre given that she’s waking up. Her body feels like it’s got the weight of Lewis’ truck resting on it.

What the hell?

“(Y/N), can you hear me?”

Is that… Harvey’s voice?

“If you can hear me, love, can you try and give me a sign? Wiggle your fingers or toes?”

Why the hell wouldn’t she be able to hear him? He sounds like he’s right beside her.

Nonetheless, she complies and attempts to move her digits.

“Perfect. Okay, (Y/N), I’m going to tell you a few things but I need you to remain calm, okay? Despite everything I’m reminding you of, you’re one-hundred percent safe right here right now.”

She’s clearly in the hospital.

Another mining accident? She usually can hear Marlon nagging in her ear by now though about how reckless she is.

“You’re in the hospital due to getting hurt when in the saloon. You were pushed and fell to the floor. Do you remember?”

Who in the hell of Stardew Valley would push her?

“(Y/N)...”

Sebastian?

“Can you hear me, doll?”

Attempted finger movements.

She also tries to turn her head toward her best friend’s voice but her eyes aren’t assisting just yet.

“Hey, pretty girl,” She fails to see the soft smile on Sebastian’s face, perfectly paired up with the tears staining his cheeks. “You remember Sam’s family?”

Vincent?

Jodi?

Oh, fuck-

Jodi.

Kent.

Another gasp and she feels multiple hands on her body as if pinning her down.

“Breathe, doll, it’s okay.” “(Y/N), remember that you’re safe.” Harvey inputs. “Don’t panic, you’re okay, I promise.”

The pet name ‘baby’ is on the tip of Sebastian’s tongue, but there’s a time and a place for that…

“Just focus on staying calm, doll, or else we can’t help you.”

She was pregnant.

The saloon.

Elliott.

Jodi was pissed.

Jodi didn’t know she was pregnant - how!?

She was pushed.

The blood.

Bleeding.

Her baby…

“Try and stay calm, (Y/N).” Harvey’s voice interrupts her thoughts once more; it’s then that she realises how obnoxiously loud the beeping of her heart monitor is as it gets faster.

With struggling efforts, the woman manages to move one of her hands across her body to her flat stomach.

She lost the baby.

There’s no way she had the baby - she had two months left.

Is that possible?

Perhaps this was the way it was meant to be.

With strain, she manages to open her eyes, the blinding hospital lights barely hurting in comparison to the loss of her baby.

“Welcome back, (Y/N).” The doctor greets, but she hasn’t even looked at any of the men in the room yet. “Just to make you aware, I’m in the room along with Sebastian and Sam.”

Sam…

“Hey, (Y/N).” The blond comments.

She doesn’t respond.

Eventually, she manages to turn her head and acknowledge the doctor beside her. He offers a reassuring smile and waits patiently for her to feel comfortable.

She then rolls her head around and sees the two boys standing side by side, both crying and looking like they haven’t slept in days. Or showered. Or eaten.

With slow, mechanical movements, the farmer reaches up and slowly slides down the oxygen mask covering her mouth. She licks her lips and moistens her mouth, feeling just how dry her throat is.

“You two look like shit.”

Sam can’t help the laugh that erupts from his throat, mixed with a sob or two. Sebastian simply smiles and shakes his head.

“Missed you too, gorgeous.” The latter mutters. “You’re not lookin’ too hot yourself, farmer.” Sam adds, jokingly.

She attempts a smile before turning to look back at Harvey.

“How long have I been out?” “Eighteen hours-ish.” The doctor confirms. “You woke up about ten hours ago but weren’t doing so good.”

She nods.

“I lost the baby?”

The anguish on Harvey’s face is enough to know.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N). I tried everything I could.”

She simply smiles and nods before turning to look at the two boys on the other side of her.

“Are you mad?”

The men's faces contort into confusion and shock.

“Mad? Why on Earth would we be mad? Of course we’re not mad, doll, we’re just glad you’re okay.” Sebastian assures the woman, resting a hand on her matted hair. “(Y/N), I’m just glad you’re alive and breathing.” Sam adds.

Harvey answers every question the woman has, brings her some food and drink, and leaves the trio to chat amongst themselves.

“I love you both very much.” “We love you very much, pretty girl.” Sebastian smiles. “My mom came by earlier, by the way - I told her everything.”

(Y/N) nods.

“Does she hate me?” “Of course she doesn’t hate you, (Y/N).”

Silence.

“I want to go home.” “We can go home whenever Harvey says so.” “Will you both stay with me?” “(Y/N),” “Doll,”

Sam and Sebastian begin at the same time, (Y/N) giggling at their synchronisation.

“I think I can speak for Sebastian as well as myself when I say we don’t plan on leaving your side for the rest of our lives.”

It was at that moment that (Y/N) looked at Sam in the same light she looks at Sebastian in.

Love.

Adoration.

Romantic?

But three’s a crowd.

Right?

Sebastian sees the conflict in the woman’s eyes and it makes him grin.

“We’ll figure it out, pretty girl.” The emo boy comments, flashing a wink as she realises he can read her like a picture book. “I love you both.” “We love you too, farmer.”

[isthisthingeven0n]

hear you : a.h

after celebrating your promotion with hotch, it tragically ends in an accident with you hospitalised and comatose. yet, somehow you can hear everyone around you, wishing for you to wake up. (1.9k) 

all my links

hear you / every word 

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Everything that night occurred in an instant. No one had time to change what happened, even if you wished the events had happened in a different order.

If you hadn’t left the restaurant first and walked ahead whilst Hotch admired the fleeting moment. You were laughing giddily as you turned to face him, his arms were crossed over his chest as you danced, still joyful after celebrating your promotion. Perhaps if he caught up to you it would’ve been someone else lying on the ground.

Yet, as you lie on the ground, life draining from your gaze you can’t help but wonder; what if?

The events that lead to you strapped to a hospital bed lifelessly could have all been avoided. If the driver hadn’t drunk away his sorrows before picking up his children, families would still be together and one less hospital bed would be filled.

All you can hear is the monotone beeping of your heart monitor. The stench of antibacterial sprays and gels embed themselves into your nostrils alongside the fragrant flowers from Garcia that litter your private room. But out of everything in your environment, there’s one thing you’re still waiting on; to hear him, to hear Hotch by your side.

What you’re currently certain of is that you’re asleep, comatose. Yet, you can hear everything. This was the sort of thing you’d witnessed happen in TV shows, and you’ve listened to Spencer sitting beside you, explaining to Penelope that there have been no claims of comatose patients hearing voices. How they can hear movements or faint sounds, but no details of conversations. All you can do is wait whilst you remain trapped in your own thoughts, unable to react to anything said.

Your daily routine since being ‘awake’ is being checked multiple times a day by various Doctors and Nursers. They’re very caring as they monitor your heart rate, brain waves, temperature and your comfort levels. You listen to them report technical jargon to one another, and now you wish you paid more attention to Spencer last week after he visited his old Doctor.

Thankfully, you’re allowed to have visitors which makes all the difference- even if they are oblivious to the impact they’re making.

The first person to visit you tends to be Garcia, you can hear the urgency in her footsteps as her heels click against the lament flooring. She sits with you for a while before work, telling you about how Morgan keeps singing out of tune whilst she is on the phone to him. You wish you could laugh at the little things she describes, hearing about your family try and carry on without you.

Spencer stops by after work with JJ. You can hear how his voice cracks when he sits beside you, JJ on your other side as she rests her hand on yours. Spencer recites facts about comatose patients and if often interrupted by JJ with some happier news about Henry and describes the drawing she brought. You wish you could see it, feel the textures of the paint and cotton he used.

Yet, as much as you love your family, he still hasn’t been.

“Hey, baby girl.” You hear Morgan walk over toward you, pulling the ancient chair out as it squeaks against the floor. “Garcia tells me you’ve been on your own all day,” He begins and you internally chuckle. “and we can’t have that so I thought you’d love nothing more than your best man to come on by.” Morgan nudges your hand playfully and laughs to himself.

You’re desperate to laugh along, joke back like old times, tell him how much Penelope has been going on about their phone conversations and the workplace issues that have arisen.

“I know you haven’t seen him yet,” Morgan’s tone changes, the light-heartedness has dropped. “but he has been trying, trust me, we see it every day.” A sigh follows from him, and Morgan drops his head in his hands, thankful you haven’t had to witness the state Hotch has been getting himself into.

“He tries every day to come and see you, baby girl. He, he makes it to the entrance of the hospital and just,” Morgan knows exactly what it is, but he doesn’t want to tell you.

Sometimes, the silence is enough for you to figure it out. ‘It isn’t his fault.’ You want to yell out, scream at the top of your lungs, but you remain motionless, simply listening.

Hotch enters the hospital every day since the accident. He came in with you, running by your side as you were wheeled straight into surgery. He stood still as the doors slammed in front of him, taking you out of his sight.

“But erm, we found out about the guy who caused this. His name was Robert Kingshill.” Morgan starts, unaware that both Penelope and Spencer have already explained the details to you. You home in and out of Morgan’s explanation about how Robert was an abusive husband, his children both under 5 years. “He died on arrival.”

‘And no one will miss him.’

“Sorry to interrupt,” A new voice chimes in, one of the nurses who has been seeing to you; Savannah. She’s sweet, attentive and engages with your family. “I just have to check her vitals, I’ll be a few minutes at most.”

“Of course, do you want me to step out?” Morgan asks, his voice softening after he clears his throat. You can almost picture him sitting up straighter, flashing that signature Derek Morgan smirk.

“It’s okay, are we still on for dinner tonight?” Savannah asks, catching you completely off guard as your heart rate spikes. “Shit.” She mutters, watching as your heart rate relaxes once more, back to a normal pace.

“What was that?” Morgan speaks up, concern lacing his tone.

Savannah remains silent for a moment, too long for your liking. “Just a spike, they can happen now and then.” She brushes it off and steps out of the room, leaving Morgan with you alone once more.

*

“Do you think she can hear us?” Garcia asks as her hand remains in yours, holding it gently whilst Emily hovers by the window, watching as the rain falls against the window.

A loud disheartened sigh echoes. “I don’t know, Pen.” Emily states as she turns around. “But if she can, it’s kinda rude for her not to wake up.” Emily chuckles, and Penelope joins in for a second.

“If you can hear us, Y/n,” Penelope starts, and you can hear the shake in her voice. “we all love you, and miss you dearly.”

“We’re all still here, and will be until you wake up.” Emily adds as she smiles to Penelope, holding her hand out as she gladly accepts as tears fill her eyes once more.

Sniffing to herself, Penelope glances over to the empty doorway. “And, and Hotch misses you, Y/n. I know, I know he hasn’t been here yet, but he loves you, and Jack does too.”

The thought of Jack causes your heart to ache, how you miss that boy deeply in the evenings when you would go over. Jack would always ask for your help with homework or read with him before he went to sleep. Last month, he called you ‘Mom’ and you didn’t know how to react, neither did Aaron. But you let it happen, and carried it on.

Just as Jack felt he had a new Mom, he was at risk of losing her too.

“Come on, we ought to go, let her rest.” Emily states as she walks over to Penelope, taking her arm.

If only they could hear you. You were done with resting.

*

It has almost been a month. At least that is what you hear them say. Outside it has become colder, snow comes and goes, but it never sticks. With ease, you can now clearly differentiate the nurses and the doctors’ voices, even by the sigh after they do their checks. You’ve heard them discuss your frequent brain activity, which is a good sign. They’re now thinking you’re going to wake up, that it could be any day. But then again, they’ve been saying that for the last two weeks.

Another Doctor walks in and checks over you, nothing out of the ordinary as you wish he would stop humming that awful TV show tune. “You have a visitor this morning, Miss Y/L/N.” He states which is unusual, your visitors are never announced to you, they just sort of appear.

Your ears perk up to the sound of shuffling, quickly followed by a restricted sob, one you sadly could pinpoint; Aaron.

“Hi, Y/n,” Aaron quietly speaks up, his voice hoarse as the chair scrapes across the floor and he reaches out, taking your cold hand in his. “I’m sorry I haven’t been sooner.” He turns to business mode, forcing confidence even though he’s breaking apart, seeing you like this. “I just,”

‘It’s okay, Aaron. Take your time.’ You want to tell him, that it’s not easy, nothing about this is. But you simply listen as he exhales shakily and he takes lifts his other hand, enveloping yours into both of his.

A small sigh breaks the moment of silence. “Jack, he keeps asking about where you are. I’m running out of options here, Y/n.” He chuckles out of worry. “Jessica has been great, taking care of him and everything, I’ve barely left my office since the accident.” Hotch explains, seeing flashes of light illuminating you that night, like an angel. The excitement in your expression turning to pure terror as he ran toward you, but was too late.

Hotch was always too late to save the women he loves.

“I just, I need you, Y/n.” Hotch mutters. “I can’t lose you too, I just can’t.” Soft cries sound from him as the door opens, and he sniffs quietly.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’ll come back later.” Someone speaks up, and Hotch nods to them before returning his attention to you.

He tried not to stare at the evident wounds and scars that will line your skin forever. The stitches on your forehead from where you hit the ground.

Hotch will never forget how he held you in his arms as you were bleeding, eyes glazed over as he yelled for you to keep your eyes open.

“I know sometimes things aren’t always easy for us, with cases and barely having time to ourselves. But I really wanted that night to be special, you deserved a night to be reminded how wonderful you are.” Hotch chuckles dryly, looking around the room. “Look where that got us.”

‘It’s not your fault, Aaron.’ You scream internally, wishing you could just take hold of his hand, squeeze it tightly and never let go. ‘Please, just listen to me, please.’

“I know it’s taken me too long to get here, but I don’t know if I can do this, Y/n.” Hotch’s voice hitches as his hands begin to slip out from yours. “Reid mentioned how talking to comatose patients is supposed to help but er, I guess we’ll eventually find out.”

Rising to his feet, you plead for him to stay, to not leave you here alone.

“I love you Y/n.” Hotch calls out as he stands in the doorway, seeing your chest rising and falling rhythmically, remembering the days where you’d lie beside him in bed, enjoying the moment of tranquil before Jack wound run through the door, waking you from a deep sleep. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

As Hotch turns the corner, he can’t stop the tears from falling as he collapses against one of the walls. Silent cries sound from his lips as a Nurse approaches him, but he brushes her off.

“Aar,” Your lips begin to part, a faint sound leaving them. But then silence returns, and you’re still trapped in your mind, wishing he could return.

PART TWO

[limjaeseven]

Find You (6/8)

VERSE 2: PART 6 OF 8

Pairing: Jinyoung X Jaebeom ft Seulgi of Red Velvet

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 1,974

Summary: Jaebeom tries to apologise to Jinyoung, but what happens when the younger doesn't accept the apology?

Warning(s): sad/angry JJP

It felt like fate was laughing at Jaebeom as he tried everything he could to get in touch with Jinyoung. The guilt just magnified so much more as he felt what it must have been like in Jinyoung’s shoes while he was hospitalised.

He saw Jinyoung on the news every couple of days, the film had become quite a big hit and people had been curious about the fresh face in it. Jinyoung looked like he was excited about the success of the film and his future in the industry but only Jaebeom knew his smile didn’t really reach his eyes, having known the man all his life.

Mark was helpful in getting updates about Jinyoung since he had joined the same agency as Jinyoung after college. He told Jaebeom about how miserable Jinyoung had been in the four months he had been admitted and recovering, about how he never left the house and spent his free time crying.

It took a week after the premiere for Jaebeom to muster enough courage to show up at Jinyoung’s door. It felt like he was eighteen again, his breath still smelling of alcohol after that first fight they had in high school. He sighed heavily as he pressed his fingers against the doorbell, not hard enough to ring it. After ten minutes of panicking and almost leaving twice, he finally let himself ring the bell, knowing that he would have to finally face Jinyoung.

Seeing Jinyoung’s messy hair and bloodshot eyes made Jaebeom forget all the excuses he’d come up with to tell the younger. He looked like he had lost a significant amount of weight, his skin pale and forehead creased.

“Hyung?” The shock in Jinyoung’s voice was clear and it hurt Jaebeom.

“Jinyoungie”

“You don’t want me and that’s okay” Jinyoung chanted, as if he had trained himself to say that if he met Jaebeom ever again. The tears welled up immediately in both their eyes, for two very different reasons.

“I’m so sorry Jinyoung, I didn’t mean to disappear like that, I’m so sorry” Jaebeom chanted over and over again but Jinyoung didn’t seem to be hearing a single word the elder was saying.

“You don’t want me and that’s okay”

“No it’s not Jinyoung. I love you, so much, I messed up. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I’m so incredibly sorry” Jinyoung seemed to snap out of head at that. Looking down at Jaebeom, his eyes narrowed and nothing short of anger took over his mind.

“Where were you for so long? Do you know how worried I was? I went to your apartment and they said you’d moved out. What happened to us being best friends, hyung?” Jaebeom didn’t know how to answer the younger, he couldn’t tell him the truth, that much he knew, but he couldn’t let go of Jinyoung either. He had to take full responsibility for breaking his heart, he just hoped he would forgive him like last time.

“You’re still my best friend Jinyoung, but life was happening, I didn’t have time to think about anything, Seulgi was the only reason I am alive and sane. You know how I am, remember how it was like when I was editing Icarus?” He lied through his teeth and he knew he’d have to pay for it someday but Jaebeom would do anything to keep Jinyoung happy.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t give me a single call or tell me you’re moving! I had to ask Seulgi to give you my premiere tickets because I couldn’t find you. I wanted you on set so bad, I wanted you to be with me as I shot my first professional movie. I was there for you when it mattered to you, but when it was something for me, that mattered to me, you were nowhere to be seen. How is that something a best friend does, hyung?” Jinyoung spewed words that hurt and Jaebeom deserved them, he thought.

“I was there at the premiere” Jaebeom muttered.

“So I hadn’t just made that up had I? But you weren’t there during the screening were you? I waited for so long hyung, and all you did was show up after everything was over, and you don’t even have a proper excuse for it. If I don’t matter to you, say it clearly. Say it so that I don’t get my hopes up again, say it so that I don’t wait for you to call me back, say it so that I don’t wait for you, forever” Angry tears rolled down Jinyoung’s cheeks as he tried his best to keep himself together.

“I need space. Last time I let you go way too easily, we were kids back then. I need some time to think about things, hyung. I’ll call you” Is all Jinyoung said before shutting the door in Jaebeom’s face.

Jaebeom didn’t remember how he got home, he just remembered that the moment he stepped in he said the words ‘we’re over’ before collapsing onto his bed. He didn’t remember how much he cried, all he knew was that he would fall asleep every few hours and wake up to cry some more. It took him over two days to finally get out of bed and eat some food, drink some water.

He knew it wasn’t really his fault and that telling Jinyoung would basically solve everything but he shut that thought down as soon as it came to him. The damage that it would do would be so much worse. He realised then what a horrible person he was to leave Seulgi, someone who had been by his side through tough times like that. He imagined Jinyoung like that, waiting outside the hospital, not knowing if Jaebeom would come out alive or not and it was enough to remind himself to never tell Jinyoung.

Without the permission to contact Jinyoung, Jaebeom attempted to get back to his normal life once more but it wasn’t easy. The first thing he did was apologise to Seulgi, he knew they were over and Jaebeom knew in his heart that what she had done to Jinyoung, even if it wasn’t her fault, would never allow him to look at her the same way again. He apologised to her parents too, who helped him through the hospitalisation. They were nice enough to forgive him, which just made Jaebeom feel more guilty because he didn’t feel worthy of their kindness.

Jaebeom didn’t know the apartment he was in like his own, Seulgi having moved in after he was admitted. Fortunately she had rented it only for a few months since they expected him to be out by then meaning he had just enough time to look for a new place.

Scrolling through some listings, he noticed the old apartment he shared with Jinyoung vacant. He didn’t think twice before calling up to move back up. By the end of the next month he was back in his room, just the one next to his was now empty.

The days without Jinyoung blurred together into Jaebeom overworking himself and coming home to cry till he passed out. On the days he felt extra lonely, he slept in Jinyoung’s old room, imagining his scent on the sheets, the warmth of his embrace on days that they slept together.

Seulgi had become Jaebeom’s everything in such little time, he didn’t think of anything else. He realised he hadn’t texted Jinyoung for three months straight even before he was hospitalised. They had been such big parts of each other’s lives it was no wonder that Jinyoung felt replaced. The guilt seemed endless to Jaebeom and he felt like he deserved it all. Part of him wanted that Jinyoung never forgave him for what he did to the younger.

It took three months, three months of Jaebeom not leaving his apartment unless it was for work, three months of him barely eating anything, of him crying himself to sleep, for Jinyoung to call. Jaebeom had finally taken a day off after his boss noticed his state and the distance between him and Seulgi and forced the man to take some rest, when his phone rang.

Expecting it to be his mom, Jaebeom reached over for his phone that was lying on his bedside table and placed it to his ear without checking the caller ID.

“Hyung?” The sound of Jinyoung’s voice made Jaebeom sit up immediately from where he had been lying in bed, his brain malfunctioning after not having expected it.

“Jinyoungie” Jaebeom knew how broken his voice sounded but he couldn’t help it, his throat was dry from the shock.

“Can we meet?” Jaebeom immediately dragged himself out of bed as he made a mental note of the café Jinyoung asked him to come to. He cut the call before running around the room to find something decent to wear. The dark circles were too prominent and however much concealer he put on them, they were still visible so he threw on a pair of sunglasses before heading out the door.

Jinyoung was already there when Jaebeom reached the place, sitting by the window, dressed in an oversized sweater and jeans. Jaebeom couldn’t help but smile looking at the younger, though he didn’t look like he was doing too well, he still looked perfect to Jaebeom. The feelings he’d had about Jinyoung all his life surfaced as he let out a sigh and pushed the door of the café open.

“I’m sorry it took so long, hyung” Jaebeom just smiled, pulling sunglasses off to look Jinyoung in the eyes as they sat in front of each other. Jaebeom would have waited for the rest of his limited days if he had to for Jinyoung, he knew that through and through.

“I don’t blame you, Jinyoungie. I want to say once more that I’m really sorry for what I did” Jinyoung nodded, his expression one of understanding. As much as they fought, Jinyoung could never really be mad at Jaebeom, the man was his entire world.

“I still am not over everything that happened but I know you’re sorry and I want us to get back to how we were. I miss you, hyung. So much, it hurts. I know you would want to spend your time with Seulgi but can we at least try to find some time for each other?” Jaebeom’s face faltered as Jinyoung mentioned his ex.

“Seulgi and I, we broke up. More like I broke up with her but we’re not a thing anymore” Jinyoung looked surprised.

“Oh, I’m sorry, hyung”

“Its fine, Jinyoungie. I always have time for you, yes I’ve not proved that over the last few months but you’re my best friend, Jinyoung, and I’d give you the whole world if I could. I moved back into our old apartment, you know the address, come by anytime you want to. Here-“ Jaebeom said, digging into his pocket for his spare key he had grabbed on the way out, “With this you won’t even need me to be home to get in.”

“You moved into our old place? Alone?”

“I just missed it a lot, no other place really felt like home after I moved out of there” Jaebeom confessed.

Things weren’t fine between them, but they knew that there was not a life for them without each other. Jaebeom made sure to visit Jinyoung on set as often as he could and attended every one of his premieres to show that he really wanted to make amends.

Jinyoung did eventually move back in with Jaebeom, and as a way to let Jaebeom make up for his mistakes, made him promise to take him to the T Junction in Hokkaido that Jinyoung found online which the elder happily agreed to. 

[loganarmstrong]

B A S I C

NAME: Logan Mayumi Armstrong

NICKNAME(S): Lo

AGE: 29

DATE OF BIRTH: 5 February 1992

GENDER: cis male

PRONOUNS: he/him

F A M I L Y

MOTHER: lyra armstrong, nee karingal

FATHER: michael armstrong

SIBLING(S): sean (older brother), mason (older twin brother)

P H Y S I C A L

FACE CLAIM: darren criss

RACE/ETHNICITY: english, german, filipino, spanish, chinese

NATIONALITY: american

HEIGHT: 5 feet and six inches (5′6)

WEIGHT: 152 lbs

BUILD: slender, skinny, will often describe himself as scrawny

SCARS: inside of wrists, one above eyebrow

HAIR: black, curly

EYE COLOR: hazel

DOMINANT HAND: left

ACCENT: american (though rarely speaks)

PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: none, though needs glasses

MENTAL DISABILITIES: autisim, selective mutism

ALLERGIES: shellfish

DISORDERS: anxiety, depression

FASHION: prefers soft fabrics, often wears with overalls and doc martens

NERVOUS TICS: wringing hands together, fidgeting

L I F E S T Y L E

HOME ADDRESS: bridgeport, somerton, maine

RESIDES: medium sized loft apartment

BORN: conway, new hampshire

RAISED: conway, new hampshire

VEHICLE: range rover suv, black

PHONE: iphone xr

LAPTOP/COMPUTER: macbook pro, ipad pro

PET(S): service dog, northern inuit named ella

HIGH SCHOOL EDUCATION: kennett high school

COLLEGE EDUCATION: the institute of fine arts, nyu

MAJOR: fine art

MINOR: illustration

CAREER: head baker

EMPLOYER: golden flour bakery

DIET: vegetarian 

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual

MARITAL STATUS: single

CHILDREN: none

LANGUAGES: english, american sign language

PHOBIAS: loud noises

HOBBIES: art, reading, journalling, soccer, video games

SOCIAL MEDIA: inactive on most, privacy settings high due to ex partner

F A V O R I T E

LOCATION: the reading nook in his apartment

VIDEO GAME: skyrim, animal crossing, horizon zero dawn, spyro, stardew valley

ARTIST: vincent van gogh

MUSIC: varying

SONG: radio gaga - queen

TV SHOWS: the umbrella academy, the witcher, friends, stranger things, doctor who, sherlock

MOVIES: the addams family, my neighbor totoro, jurassic park, hook, forrest gump

FOOD: asian

COLOR: yellow

C H A R A C T E R

MBTI: infj-t: the advocate

ENNEGRAM: six

TEMPERAMENT: melancholic

WESTERN ZODIAC: aquarius

CHINESE ZODIAC: monkey

PRIMAL SIGN: dolphin

B I O G R A P H Y

tw suicide attempt, self harm, abusive relationship

Logan Mayumi Armstrong is precisely three minutes and forty two seconds younger than his twin brother, Mason, and six years younger than his oldest sibling. He was a quiet baby who hardly ever cried and mostly kept to himself, even as a toddler. None of the family knew anything was wrong with Logan until he was five years old. The Armstrong family thought that maybe Logan was just a quiet child, or even a late bloomer. But soon enough, every other child in his play group could speak and Mason was already stringing together full sentences. Logan hadn’t uttered a single word and was taken to see a doctor, put through weeks of testing until finally, a result came through.

Logan was diagnosed with selective mutism. He had the ability to speak - the tests showed he had the physical ability, but he was unable to do so. The Armstrong family learned sign language in an effort to help their youngest son communicate and it was something he appreciated - he could actually ask for things now! More tests followed and eventually Logan was given a diagnosis of autism. He didn’t fully understand it, not when he was young, but he understood enough to know it made him different. He struggled to make friends in his class and often spent recess alone. Mason on the other hand, was confident and never shy of any friends. He was always around people, always out playing with his friends and happy.

Logan tried hard not to let his differences bother him. People didn’t understand him, that was what he told himself. He focused on the things he enjoyed instead, such as art. For Logan, it was a way of expressing himself without the need for words and he spent hours practicing, filling sketchbook after sketchbook. Art became his outlet, how he showed his feelings although most of his work he kept to himself. He didn’t want to upset anyone with his difference. He’d heard his mom crying when he was first diagnosed as autistic and understood being different made her sad. He’d heard his father say they could get through it and at least they had his siblings who would be able to lead “normal lives”. Those were the words his father had used and it hurt, to know he wasn’t normal. He’d known he was different, sure, but the thought of not being able to live a normal life hurt.

Logan never told either of his parents he’d overheard their conversation. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it but he was sure it wouldn’t be good if they knew. He began to withdraw even more than before, stopping using sign language and only used simple, one-word answers to questions. Logan was battling with himself. As he got older, he realised he was even more different to his peers than he thought. Everyone started getting girlfriends when he entered high school and Logan wasn’t really interested in that. He thought girls were beautiful, sure, but Logan thought guys were too. He told Mason one day who seemed taken aback by the confession. The people in their school found out that Logan wasn’t quite straight and things only got worse. He was already picked on relentlessly for his lack of speech and being different but with new fuel to the fire, they made Logan’s life miserable.

The most difficult thing for him to accept was that no one wanted him around. He felt isolated, more alone than ever and didn’t know who to turn to for help. What could he do? He struggled with communication at the best of times. His parents were concerned at how withdrawn he’d become and heard from Mason how the bullying had gotten worse at school. They took him to a doctor and Logan was diagnosed with depression. He refused to take his medication and hid the pills from his parents - he didn’t need another thing wrong with him and he didn’t want the medication. He was careful though and everyone thought he was taking them when he was supposed to, believing it would just take time for him to get better.

Death wasn’t something that scared Logan. He wasn’t afraid to die and it was something he’d welcome. He wasn’t really sure what spurred his decision; he hadn’t been on his medication since his diagnosis and he was gradually getting worse. He couldn’t think of any other way to deal with the mess that was him. So when Logan’s mother found him on the bathroom floor, barely conscious and in a pool of his own blood, no one had expected it.

Logan was forced to stay in hospital for three months after that. Physically he was fine, merely left with deep scars marking the insides of his wrists. But mentally, Logan wasn’t okay. He was forced to take his medication, made to attend counselling and managed to tell his therapist everything. It took a long time, what with his lack of communication, but eventually, they understood the reasoning behind it and Logan began to recover.

He finished the school year in between his home and the hospital, Mason bringing the work home to him and helping him set up his online classes. Logan managed to graduate with a respectable grade. He wanted to pursue college, wanted to take his art further and make a career out of it. His parents were terrified to let Logan travel so far away. But they understood and after a lengthy conversation and the promise he would keep in contact with them, Logan was off.

He flew to New York City to study Fine Art and Illustration. It was a new sense of freedom for him. He still wasn’t okay, but he made sure he took his medication and stuck to a strict schedule for himself. It helped him focus and Logan was able to enjoy himself, even make a couple of friends and get a job as a barista in a local coffee shop. It was in this coffee shop that he met the person who changed his life.

Matthew was a kind and caring man at first glance. He didn’t let Logan’s lack of speech bother him, continuing to visit the younger man every day with a bouquet of flowers until Logan agreed to go on a date. Things started off well - Matthew was patient with Logan’s difficulty communicating and he made him laugh. Logan thought he could actually be happy and was excited when after a few short months, Matthew asked him to move in with him.

But that was when things began to take a turn for the worst. Matthew seemed to lose the patience he had before. He grew frustrated at Logan’s inability to speak and would fly into a fit of rage more often than not. The first time he hit him was one of the worst. Logan told himself he’d leave him, he wouldn’t let himself be pushed around like this. But Matthew had broken down, told Logan he needed help and said he wouldn’t be able to survive without him. He told Logan he’d been suicidal in the past and he would die if Logan left. So Logan stayed, forgave Matthew each and every time he was hit, when he was shoved or when he was beaten. Matthew told him this was what he deserved and Logan started to believe it. The bruises were always carefully hidden and Logan accepted that this was what his life would be. He was afraid no one would believe him if he told the truth so he kept quiet. Even after he finished his degree, he stayed with his boyfriend. Months turned into years and still, Logan was too afraid to leave.

The sixth time he was hospitalised from his injuries was the breaking point. But it also provided Logan with a way out. Matthew was arrested and Logan discharged himself from the hospital before he recovered fully and ran. He managed to scrape some money together and left the city, travelling as far as he could.

He settled in Somerton, Maine, a town he’d heard about often growing up. No one knew him there and he’d be able to start again, that was the main thing. He was still terrified Matthew would find him, especially as Logan fled without giving a statement against him. But he settled into life, got a job at the local bakery and kept his head down. It was just him and his faithful Ella now, his service dog. She kept him grounded and he knew he owed a lot t her presence. The residents of Somerton were nice and didn’t ask too many questions, for which he was grateful. Now all he had to do was hope he stayed safe.

[ninatheauthor]

"I don't really like being called 'Angel' or 'Goddess'... I'm just a human being."

Basima Lee was an Officer under the command of Hange Zoë within the Survey Corps. Her paternal ancestors originated from the Kingdom of Seungil, also known as the Seungil Dynasty. They visited Paradis Island along with the shogun of Hizuru.

Table of Contents - part 1 ▸ Personal Information ▸ Biological Information ▸ Personality ▸ Likes, Dislikes, Favorites & Aspirations ▸ Professional Information ▸ Statistics & Abilities

Personal Information

Full name: Basima Mi-young Lee First name - "smiling" Middle name - "beautiful and outstanding" Last name - derived from the character Li, it means "plum tree" Nicknames: Freckle-faced Angel / そばかす顔の天使, Sobakasu-gao no tenshi - her admirers Northern Goddess / 北の女神, Kita no megami - idem Sisi - her friends Fatty - her former instructor Katakana: バシマ・リー Romaji: Bashima Rī Hangul: 이미영

Origins: • Unknown Former Eldian Colonies • Territory of Cesur Formerly known as the Cesur Empire, its territory was conquered by the Eldian Empire and reclaimed by Marley. Their religion is called Ceslam. • Seungli A small kingdom located in the East Sea region. The nation of Hizuru attempted to annex the territory ; they failed several times.  After Seungli signed a treaty of peace with the Eldian Empire, the Crown Prince along with the Right State Consulate visited and stayed on Paradis Island. 

Languages: Eldian (fluent), Seungian (fluent), Ceslian (intermediate) Sexuality: N/A

Birthdate: November 23rd, 822 Birthplace: Elgin Village, Wall Rose, Paradis Island Former residence: Survey Corps HQ Status: Deceased Death date: 850 Death location: Stohess District, Wall Sina Site of burial: Elgin Village, Wall Rose

Biological Information

Species: Human Gender: Female Age: 23 (845) 27 (850) Height: 165 cm / 5 ft. 4 in. Weight: 62 kg / 137 lb.

Physical appearance Long, medium, slightly wavy dark auburn hair. On-duty, she braided her hair around in a crown style or tied it up in a double braid ponytail.

An oval face shape with straight eyebrows, upturned dark blue eyes, a small snub nose shape, full lips and freckles spread across her nose and cheeks. She spoke with a deep, classy feminine voice. (*)

Light skin with cool, pink undertones. Basima disliked her winter complexion - once she started blushing, her cheeks and neck turned red. The adult adored her summer complexion: a warm, golden brown skin tone.  

According to her admirers, nobody else in the Scouting Legion had feminine curves like her. Due to her figure, Basima received harsh criticism for "being too fat" and "not fit enough for a soldier". Round shoulders with pudgy arms and thin fingers. Her wide-set breasts were bigger - not too large - compared to other soldiers. Clothes hid well the veteran's long, deep scar across her back, the little scars on her upper arms and her stomach rolls. However, she couldn't pretend that she didn't have large hips, a round bottom and thick thighs with long legs.

Clothing style The woman wore the Survey Corps uniform with a light pink button-up shirt. She got used to the sensation of the harness pressing down her chest, stomach, hips and legs. Off-duty, Basima wore shirts with cardigans, knee-length skirts and boots. 

Personality

Childhood "Good girl" - she obeyed to her parents and sister, always greeted the other villagers with a smile on her face. Instead of mocking the child, her parents and sibling encouraged the youngest to love her body. Basima often questioned her parents. Sometimes, their answers didn't satisfy her.

Early to mid 10s Confident prior to her enlistment in the Training Corps. Her comrades pitied her out: their Head Instructor demeaned Basima since day one. In her eyes, the villager was too soft-hearted, naïve and piggish. Despite these weaknesses, the trainee had good social kills - she got along with everyone and befriended few individuals. Unless Cadet Lee toughened herself and slimmed down, she wouldn't last long. Unbeknownst to Vesta Hajovsky, her favorite target exceeded her expectations ; Basima improved steadily the two following years.

Some Scouts started to idolize her: the "Freckled-face Angel" and "Northern Goddess" respected everyone, was kind-hearted, selfless and graceful. At the beginning, the teen went along with it. Basima greatly appreciated compliments about her, especially those concerning her weight.  

Late 10s One day, the Scout rejected these nicknames. Being put on a pedestal stressed Basima out. The soldier dodged Titans unless someone in the higher-ranks ordered her to kill them. She preferred to follow the rules like a good soldier than lead a group of individuals. She lied to hide her dad's ethnic origins. Unfortunately for her, some individuals wanted to know the truth. Basima was overtly defensive - she perceived their questions as an attack. If her interlocutor persisted, the woman would talk to them them with a hostile tone. She needed to protect her family.

Early 20s The passing of Liliane Berger took its toll on Basima's health. She barely ate, slept for few days and was hospitalised for a short period. The fear of Titans overwhelmed her. She lacked self-esteem, belittled herself. The officer healed slowly through the months. Once Basima acknowledged her fear, she exposed herself to it and engaged with it. The more they accumulated data about this species, the better.

Mid to late 20s

"The reason of my life is not to be the most beautiful woman in the world." - Isabella Rossellini

At first glance, Basima was a easy-going, sympathetic and affectionate individual. She greeted everyone, asked her comrades how they feel today. She made tea or coffee for her teammates and superiors. She hugged Hange when they confessed about their fears.

Basima grew tired of jokes made at her superior's expense. Mildly annoyed, the woman responded sardonically. The "nutcase" and "weirdo" who was in charge of a squadron and the Titan Research Team has a lot of qualities. Like her teammates, she showed loyalty to her superior and other high-ranked officers of the Survey Corps. The soldier confronted fervently those who downgraded Hange's intellect and leadership skills. She regained her composure  after the Captain or one of her superiors told her to hush, apologizing for losing her temper.

Basima was on active duty for 12 years. She had been under two different Commanders, survived dozens of expeditions prior the fall of Wall Maria. Reliable and adaptable, the veteran was an elite soldier among the Scouting Legion. She displayed a lack of empathy towards soldiers from the Military Police Brigade and aristocrats as she often made snarky comments about them. This lady could be somewhat calculating, acting like a helpless or luscious woman to achieve her ends.

Likes, Dislikes, Favorites & Aspirations

ღ Summer season ღ Observing the sun rises and sun falls ღ Listening to the birds ღ Ice cream ღ Knitting

✘ Winter season ✘ People who don't respect her boundaries ✘ People who worship her like a God ✘ Military Police ✘ Nobles

Favorites Food(s): Vegetable soup, fish soup and vanilla ice cream Color(s): Light pink Season(s): Summer Type of the day: Morning Animal(s): Cats and horses Activities: Knitting, braiding her hair, going out and shopping in town with her friends when off-duty

Aspirations Life-long dream: visit the land of her ancestors Goal(s): sell knitted clothes and accessories in her own shop

Professional Information

Occupation: Soldier Time in service: 12 years (excluding trainee years)

Affiliation 92nd Training Corps - Northern Division (835-838) • Grad. Rank: 5th • Grade: B-

Survey Corps (838-850) Mathias Aukes' Squad Nathalie Cooper's Squad Hange Zoë's Fourth Squad • Rank: Officer (上官, Jokan)

Titan Kills Solo: At least 5 In team: At least 15 Total: 25

Statistics & Abilities

3DMG: 8.5/10 Agility: 7.5/10 Combat: 7/10 Initiative: 7/10 Intelligence: 8/10 Stamina: 6/10 Strength: 6/10 Teamwork: 8/10 Willpower: 7/10 Knitting: 10/10

➜ Vertical maneuvering equipment

Basima has always been fascinated by it. If others could fly, so did she. The woman strengthened her lower body and learned everything about the equipment - apparatus, mechanics, etc. Furthermore, she mastered different techniques through the years. 

➜ Agility

The most flexible part of Basima's body was her lower body. Constant training and muscular reinforcement helped her to manipulate the 3DMG with ease. 

➜ Intelligence

Members of the Titan Research Team displayed various analytical skills such as critical thinking, research, information analysis, communication and problem-solving. In addition, Basima could schemed to get away from troublesome problems.

➜ Teamwork

During her trainee years, teamwork was her fortée. She understood the importance of having a group with members whom rely on each other. Basima took the time to improve this skill in the Scouting Legion. 

➜ Knitting

She learned from her mom. When Basima had time, she could make practical clothes. Her close friends and comrades received scarves, gloves, socks and pull-over for their birthdays.

(*) Her seiyuu/voice actress would be Eiko Masuyama and Michelle Ruff.

Some elements were extracted from a OC Sheet created by AliceCantBeStopped Statistics chart created by SNK-OC-Guide Shingeki No Kyojin © Hajime Isayama Basima Lee © Nina The Author

[mwagneto]

Omggg what are you going to do when your parents are away? Like what are your goals? Also, why are your parents leaving?

well i really want to keep myself busy so I don't get bored out of my mind, I want to visit my horse as often as possible and I want to have friends over whenever school allows, I also have a therapy and a dentist appointment so I guess that's something to do too djdjdjd other than that idk I have a lot of movies I've been wanting to watch and now that they're not here I can use the TV that's in the library or the one in my mom's room or the one in my dad's instead of my phone or laptop

They're going on vacation lol they're flying to Mexico and they're gonna drive through the country for two months and sightsee, they do this pretty much every year although they used to take me with them but I'd rather stay home, we went to New Zealand twice, two years in a row (first for 5 weeks but then my dad crashed the car so I had to be hospitalised for over a week which really cut our plans in half lol so then we went back next year for 8 weeks), then they went to NZ again a third time but this time without me, since then they've been to Chile and Argentina and shit like that, and yeah this time it's Mexico

[gotatext]

claws my way out of the dirt like the goblin i am ..... hello thots, its nora, once again bringing you a revamped version of a muse i played yonks ago n some of u may have even written against... here is her pinterest.....

this is margaret greta, she’s a whole can of trauma spaghetti plastered over with a toothy grin and a lot of dad jokes. the only reason she’s in gifford really is bcos shes been put there as part of a witness protection program cos lots of police r monitoring livingstone so its deemed relatively safe.... haha... anyway she changes major all the time. she started off doing fine art but since then she’s done modules in architecture, film, bio-chemistry and is now dabbling in medicine. 

CIS-FEMALE — ever hear people say GRETA O’DRISCOLL looks a lot like DIANA SILVERS? I think SHE is about 21, so it doesn’t really work. The MEDICINE major is a SOPHOMORE that is from DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA. They can be +CHARMING, but they can also be -EVASIVE. I think GEE might be SHEEP. They are living in YATES. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her )

this bitch is the most restless creature u ever seen. before she came to livingstone, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years. 

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

goes through phases of being intensely feminist and tweeting “men are trash i don’t need them” before flipping into being lonely and needy n wanting male attention again. tends to gravitate towards men who are just pieces of shit tbh like her friends are always like hun.... pick a nice boy..... but no.... she’ll go for the boxer with several arrest records for gbh or the small-town drug dealer just trying to hook her onto pills for a little extra cash, or the reformed sinner who thinks he’s being protective by reading all her texts and always knowing where she is..... n she always finds a way to spin it so that they Just Care About Her and aren’t a p.o.s 

left school at 18 n didn’t go to uni, moved in w her boyfriend of the time instead, but soon got bored, n then went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was playing bass for a country n blues band. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time. 

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate. 

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea... pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming..... also this happened in 2017, he was mixed race and greta is white so naturally the police totally took her side. she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

 massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch

pretty easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be enthralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her

is That Girl who always knows where the parties are, and is always there, on the sofa, talking about institutionalised racism and trying to coerce you into a game of beer pong that she’ll definitely win. doesn’t really have one solid group of friends, just kind of on good terms with everyone and social butterflies about

has changed her major so many times. decision? who is she. currently studying medicine, but doesn’t rlly enjoy it. she’s very unmotivated and lazy and probably wouldn’t ahve bothered going to uni if she hadn’t been placed in one by a witness protection program. will probably change on to history or gender studies soon n just make up the extra credits by volunteering

 massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps.  i hate her

plays bass guitar, has a teal green fender and it is her BABY. it’s covered in stickers about saving the planet and ending fracking and going vegan. she’s in an all-female punk band w agnes (n mayb jade i think) n they play gigs every now n then in grotty club basements full of druggy sweaty college kids

PERSONALITY: easy-going, sociable, observant, blunt, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent, unmotivated, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring. ESTP and a leo

LIKES: art, music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy,  cowboy chic culture, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, karaoke, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, zip-lining, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, boiler house DJ sets, magnolias, decorative lamps, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

DISLIKES: bananas, coffee, Woody Allen, mental mathematics, children, Trump, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, Wes Anderson films, spoken word poetry, the general mentality of cheerleading squads (despite being on one)

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes. 

wanted plots: since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships, and girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight, and I want like, fellow medicine students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. ppl she did a few modules with before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with, like she did a few art modules, a bit of film, n some architecture before switching to medicine, though she’ll probs switch course again soon. ppl who she runs track with. someone she’s trying to make a zine with. here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta���, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

[myrauwu]

Antipsychotics, Psychosis, and I

This is a tough subject to write about, it’s like I’m looking at an empty screen and filled with ideas but the ideas stay there instead of being typed onto the screen. But I will give it my best shot. Apologies if this seems like word vomit, or if I jump from subject to subject, but know this comes from the heart.

Now, on to my history of psychosis and antipsychotics:

I’ve been on one antispychotic or another (sometimes two at once) since the age of 16 (except for 2017 when I cold turkey’d all my meds, but that’s a story for later) when I had my first psychotic episode. Part of me wonders how well these episodes were handled, whether I would have been far better off and relapse free going to a Soteria type environment. But nonetheless, history is history and it’s not like Mississippi would be having radical schizophrenia treatments anyway. Mississippi throws their schizophrenics into the state hospital and either leaves them there to die or ejects them onto the streets with little to no social support, where they inevitably die as well. [1]

The only reason I have not succumbed to this fate is because I had a therapist with enough foresight to put me on SSI (disability) and I have a family that understands and supports me, and has good insurance that I can take advantage of until the age of 26. Thus I see a doctor who admits not to the state hospital, but to a local private one known for being quite good. I am privileged in that sense, despite my illness, and despite me being on disability.

However, back to the point, I’ve been on every atypical antipsychotic except some of the newer ones (Saphris, Invega, Rexulti, to name a few,)[2] and Seroquel (except for sleep). I’ve been on Haldol (haloperidol) as well. I am currently on Vraylar (Cariprazine) but I am worried that this medicine will follow the pattern that all the others have, and it is this pattern I will explore later.

My journey on the “med carousel” has been a wild one. Filled with moments where I felt miserable, filled with moments where I felt like I was cured and all was good in the world. But all those moments point towards the same conclusion, in the end: relapse. 

Before the medicines came, the psychosis did. I had my first psychotic episode at the age of 16, months after my parents divorced. I was feeling immense pressure at that time, as an AMAB person, I was the only “”man”” in the house, and responsibilities came with that. Instead of “stepping up to the plate” I instead withdrew, and sunk into a deep depression complemented by acute panic attacks. I was put on Celexa (Citalopram) by a local doctor who specialized in adolescent care. This lifted my depression, but did nothing for the crippling anxiety I felt at school.

Then suddenly, one night, I heard a voice speaking to me. It was a whispering voice, I could not discern the words, and then more voices accompanied them, until I sat in bed miserable, crying, unable to function. That was how my mom found me in the morning, crying with my hands over my ears, complaining of a “crowd of voices.” 

I was immediately rushed to a local hospital, where I was put on Risperdal (risperidone) and I stayed there for five days. I was so sedated during these five days that I could scarce stay awake, they went by in a blur. I dimly remember a visitation where I begged my mom to get me out of there, but she refused. It’s something I feel resentful about to this day.

After discharge I was well for a while, until symptoms returned, this time with accompanying delusions. Latuda was the next med of choice, one that worked well for a time, but then failed me and ended with me being back in hospital, but this time, the state hospital.

Whitfield, the mere name seems to scare residents of Mississippi. Whitfield is very much a stereotypical state hospital, poorly run, with no air conditioning in some buildings, poor computers, and an over-worked staff. I will not go into detail of my stay there, I will just say it was not enjoyable

After my stay there where I was tried on several medications (which, to be honest, I can not recall) my psychiatrist accused me of malingering. If his medicines weren’t working, well then the problem must be me! He severed our patient/doctor relationship and I continued on, discharged from the state hospital, fighting down psychosis and trying to be normal despite daily panic attacks, hallucinations, and believing the FBI was reading my thoughts.

Eventually, it all became too much, and I broke down in front of my family. This brought me to my next doctor, who I see to this day. He was much more kindly than the other doctor, with a happy tone in his voice and a genuine desire to listen to my troubles. He prescribed Geodon, and it seemed I had found my miracle drug.

But this drug failed me as well after a few months of blissful silence in my own head, I was hospitalized during an acute episode of hypomanic psychosis, which brought me to the label of schizoaffective bipolar. [3] During this hospitalization I was put on Haldol (haloperidol) and lithium, both did their job and I was out of the hospital after two weeks.

Fast-forward 6 months, I have a falling out with my therapist, I refuse to do the work in therapy (later I learn, I simply was not mature enough to do work in therapy) so she recommends I be kicked out of the house, and my mom obliges. [4]

With that, I stop all my medication. The Lithium? thrown in the trash. Haldol and Geodon? Same

At first it seems like I’m going to be okay, but of course, the psychosis is always there, always lurking, always looking to take an opportunity. The result was 6 months of unending psychosis where I scarce leaved my apartment (and most days, my bed).

This psychosis was only ended by a visit to a Partial Hospitalisation Program (PHP) where I learned skills to manage my psychosis, and was put back on the Geodon.

But of course, the Geodon again failed me,and after a Geodon + Haldol combo ended with crippling Akathisia my doctor was out of choices, and I went back to partial hospitalization to try Clozaril (clozapine).[5] But, the doctor said I had another choice, Vraylar. This Vraylar was new, expensive, but the doctor thought it would work. And so far it has.

Yet, the fear remains, what if it stops working and I have to try Clozaril? 

These thoughts haunt me, but I hope they won’t hold me back, and I hope that in the future I can find the right amount of coping skills and medication to truly one day feel happy. 

I know this is a bit of a word vomit, but this is for me, not for the reader, although I hope you got something out of this. In the future I will probably blog about antipsychotics, prognosis, and whether I want to be on them or not (as I’ve recently read Anatomy of an Epidemic by Robert Whittaker, who argues that antispychotics can be beneficial in the short term but are worse in the long-term). But for now, this is it. 

Endnotes:

[1] This is the subject of a lawsuit between the US Justice Department and the State of Mississippi, which is ongoing as of the writing of this piece.

[2] I am going to be using American brand names for the antipsychotics in this piece, but where I can recall the generic name I will use it alongside the brand name.

[3] I conceive of schizoaffective disorder not as is its own valid scientific entity, but merely an explanation for the co-existence of schizophrenia and bipolar disorder or major depressive disorder, something deemed impossible by the Kraepelinian dichotomy which the DSM-V still follows quite rigorously

[4] Me being transgender also had something to do with this action of kicking me out, but that is not a subject I felt like broaching today.

[5] Clozaril is a dangerous drug with a 1% side effect rate of decreased white blood cells, which can be fatal. As a result, the drug is a pain in the ass to take. You can only have one weeks worth of the drug at a time, and to get the next weeks dose you have to get your blood tested to show your ANC count is normal.

[himbo-prime]

Please help?

Hi, guys!!  I would never do this under normal circumstances, but I really really need help from anyone who can provide it.

I have an eating disorder. A really, really bad case of Binge Eating Disorder, that’s been an issue for as long as I can remember.  My dad drilled it into me from a young age that if I wasn’t within a certain weight expectation that I was worth less as a person. My relationship with food has always been strained at best, an addiction at worst, driving me to take extreme and often unhealthy actions to try to “fix” myself.

When I was twelve, I went on my first “fad” diet with Jenny Craig, with my mom joining me for support. It was horrible and I hated every moment of it, but I did it for 8 months before I gave up. When I was fifteen, my parents sent me to Wellspring Academy of the Carolinas, an extremely intense weight loss boarding school where I lived in North Carolina for 10 months, allowed no more than 20 grams of fat a day and working out three times daily. (For my detailed account of all the horrors I experienced there, check this post). I lost 75 pounds, but the lifestyle there was impossible to maintain once I came home, and I gained all the weight back. The constant fluctuation blew out my gall bladder and I had to have it removed. Two years later, in February 2013, I tried again to stabilise my weight by having a vertical sleeve gastrectomy, a procedure in which 80%-ish of the stomach is removed to shape it into a “banana” and physically restrict the amount of food I am able to ingest. This, too, dropped me back down 75 pounds, but over the course of the 5 years since, I gained all the weight back as my eating habits again spiraled out of control as my depression, anxiety, and other co-morbid conditions taught me to turn to food as a comfort.

I gave up for a long time. I thought that if even Wellspring and surgery couldn’t help me, then nothing would. But I didn’t realize that the root of my problem is not my body, but my mind, and my relationship with food itself.

Now, I’m trying to fix it once and for all. I’m seeking treatment at a partial hospitalisation program (PHP) at an eating disorder clinic, tailored to me individually to help me discover the root of my addiction to food and repair it. Therapy there will last 12 hours a day, and I will be living in an apartment just off-facility in order to fully immerse myself in it, and hopefully save my life in the process. I am under 5 feet tall and 230 pounds, and if I don’t do something soon I will end up like my mother - with severe heart disease and risk of premature death.

The problem with this is, of course, finances. Wellspring Academy and the surgery both drained my family’s funds. We have been struggling for near a decade now, and it’s because of my failed attempts at getting better. Now, with a viable and actually hopeful end in sight, treatment can be a reality again for me. But it’s expensive. Even with insurance paying a huge chunk of my treatment, it will come out to 50 dollars a day, plus 30 dollars a day for the apartment, for a grand total of 75 days in therapy. That’s $6000. This is where I need your help.

Even if you can’t personally help me, I would super appreciate if you guys would reblog this and help me get word around. I would normally never ask for financial aid but this is something that means everything to me and as it is, my parents are incredibly worried they won’t be able to send me as long as I need. I cannot work due to being disabled, so the entirety of this cost falls to them, and I hate it.

If you can donate, please please please send something over to this PayPal.Me link. I assure you that anything you guys give will only go towards my therapy, and not kept for personal use. I will be forever so, so grateful to you.

Thank you for reading this. I know it’s a terribly long post and I’m sorry to clog your dash but I don’t have any other options. OTL

[chailatterambles]

Rightful Heir to the Serpent Throne // Sweet Pea Imagine // Ch. 1

Okay here is my first fic. I hope you all like it. This will be an on-going series and i’m sorry if the first part seems long. The first chapter takes place before the first episode of Riverdale.

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Alcohol. Mentions of Death, Slight Mentions of mourning and depression.(I believe that’s it.)

Word Count: 2.1k 

Synopsis: Serena is 16 years old and daughter to Rascal Jones, FP’s deceased older brother and fellow Serpent. She grew up on the Southside until her father died in a motorcycle accident. Her mother remarried a doctor and Serena was moved to the Northside at just 11 years old. 5 years and a messy divorce have passed and she is back on the Southside with her mom and younger sister. Can Serena pick up where her life left off? Will she be accepted back by her friends? And how will a certain tall dark and handsome serpent change her life?

His hand brushed my bangs from my forehead, leaving a gentle kiss in their place. He ruffled my hair and gave me one of his classic smirks.

“Don’t worry, I will be home in an hour chickadee” he said, allowing my hair to fall back into messy waves around my shoulders. I watched Dad mount his motorcycle and throw his helmet over his short dark curls. My uncle gave me a reassuring smile from the bike beside him. Their bikes roared to life and took off down the dark gravely driveway leading away from the house. I could still just make out the snake on the back of their jackets. My mom’s hand clasped my shoulder, while her other rubbed her slightly swollen belly.

“He just has to help your uncle with one last thing before our big family weekend. Then the three of us can head out to the lake for the weekend”, my mom said. I smiled up at her and put a hand on her belly.

“Mom, do you think daddy will let me name the baby?” I asked hopeful. My mom smiled down at me,

“Do you have a name in mind Serena?” I gave her a wicked smile,

“Sawyer. It works for a boy and a girl.” I said proudly. Mom laughed at my enthusiasm.

“I love it honey. You can tell your dad as soon as he gets home.” Mom said kissing the top of my head. She led me inside and I jumped up onto the sofa. I leaned my face in my hands and gazed out the window into the night. I watched the driveway for Dad’s bike lights. Instead, a few hours later police lights filled our front yard. There was a distant sound coming from-

My eyes shot open and I felt Sawyer’s small body stir beside me. Quickly, I pressed the button on the alarm to shut it off. The clock read 6:30am. I glanced down at the small lump beside me. Her pale face was covered in her thick dark curls and she had her tiny arms draped over Rascal, her favorite teddy bear. I gently pushed myself off the bed and onto the cold wooden floor. I glanced back to make sure I had not disturbed her. Luckily, she was still softly snoring. I made sure to step carefully onto the parts of the floor I knew would not creek underneath me. The last thing I needed was a grumpy five-year-old this early in the morning. Sliding through the gap between my door and the door way, I made my way to the living room. Mom was not asleep on the couch. I peeked into her room, her bed was still unslept in. For the third night in a row she was not home. I was not surprised since today was the 5th anniversary of my dad’s death. She probably would not be home for at least two more days.

I made my way to the bathroom and grimaced at my appearance in the mirror. My long black waves were pointing every which way and my dark brown eyes had old mascara smudged around them. Hot. I thought to myself. I cleaned myself up, brushed my mane and grabbed some of my clothes from my bedroom where sawyer still lay dead to the world. I slipped on my black skinny jeans and a grey sequined tank. I threw on my favourite leather jacket and pushed my feet into my black chained booties. I shrugged at myself in the mirror, it will do I thought. Stealing a glance at the clock I realized it was already seven-thirty.

“Shit.” I mumbled. I jogged to my room and gently shook Sawyer awake.

“Hey, Little Sparrow time to get up.” I said using her nickname since birth. My dad always referred to me as chickadee and my mom as birdie. I made sure even after he was gone to keep the tradition going with Sawyer. She dragged her body upwards and blinked sleepily at me a few times.

“It is too early DeeDee” she whined in protest. She always preferred the sounds chickadee’s make rather then the name its self. I smiled at her,

“It is never to early to go see Uncle FP” I grinned at her. Her face instantly lit up and she threw herself out of bed. She dragged Rascal with her as she bolted down the hall to the bathroom. I laughed at her excitement and quickly picked out an outfit for her to wear for the day.

“No black!” she called form the bathroom. I rolled my eyes. I really do not know how she fit into this family when she never wore black. I grabbed her pink jacket, matching pink shorts, paired it with her white tights and white lacey top. I heard the bathroom door open and she came charging into the room.

“DeeDee where are my shoes?” She asked looking at the outfit on the bed. She shrugged her shoulders and threw off her toy story pajamas. I stood up from my place on the floor and went to find her shoes. Another glance at the clock and I soon realized I was going to be late for my first day at Southside High.

“Hurry up Sawyer!” I yelled from the kitchen. I heard her footsteps coming down the hallway and turned to hand her the shoes I found sprawled under the table. I tilted my head and laughed at her appearance.

“Sawyer, your shirt is on backwards.” She glanced down at herself and threw her hands up in the air with an exasperated sigh.

“DeeDee it is called fashion.” I did my best to hide my growing smile, but failed. I was met with her famous “you are such a stupid teenager” scowl. Shaking my head, I reached for my house keys on the counter. Sawyer finished tying her shoes and grabbed Rascal from his place on the floor. She grabbed my hand and we were finally out the door.

We reached FP’s house quickly and I knocked on the door. There was a faint “come in” so I opened the trailer door and let it fall shut behind us. Glancing into the room I could see FP sitting on the couch looking over some papers. He glanced in our direction and his face lit up.

“There’s my two favourite girls!” he said rising from the couch and opening his arms for Sawyer to launch herself into. She practically strangled FP with her arms and squealed with delights as he relentlessly tickled her stomach.

“Uncle FP stop!” she cried in between giggles. I smiled at the scene in front of me, but my smile soon faded. I truly loved my Uncle, but looking at him sometimes just reminded me that my dad was not here. Their resemblance was amazing, they could have passed for twins. My dad had only been two years older then FP. FP placed Sawyer on the ground and she skipped over to the couch and plopped Rascal down. FP turned to me and instantly noticed the expression on my face.

“Hey kiddo, how are you feeling today?” I shrugged my shoulders and tried to brush it off.

“I’m fine FP. It has been five years. The anniversary is just always hard. I’ll be fine by the end of school today.” He studied me and sighed. He leaned against the wall and glanced down avoiding my gaze.

“You know kid, you could just go to school tomorrow. You don’t have to go the minute you move back to the southside.” He lifted his eyes to my face but still did not meet my gaze.

“I’m fine FP. I want to go and scope out the school.” I smiled to myself,

“Besides I get to see Toni. I haven’t seen her in months.” Toni had been my best friend growing up. We were practically inseparable as kids. When my dad died, my mom remarried a rich doctor from the North side. Due to the move, I only saw Toni every few months. We moved there before Sawyer was even a year old. When my dad died my mom had just shut down. She was even hospitalised for a time because the doctors were worried she would lose the baby due to distress. That is how she met Derrick Shivian. I refused to take his last name when my mom married him. I promised myself I would always be Serena Jones. Derrick became abusive towards my mom over the years. However, one night he pushed me and I crashed through our glass coffee table. My mom was so horrified that she finally left him after years of torment. She managed to move us back into our old house on the southside just over a month ago. Sadly, my mom never let up on her drinking. It was something she picked up soon after Sawyer was born and she had stopped breast feeding. When we lived on the northside Derrick did his best to keep her drinking a secret, but on the southside it didn’t matter anymore. She would disappear for days at a time and then come home. Since she was gone most of the time, I pretty much raised Sawyer. Not that I minded, she was practically my best friend.

“You going to be okay watching her for a few hours?” I asked. FP gave me a genuine smile and finally looked me in the eyes.

“Yeah, she is a great kid. It will be no problem.” He said. I nodded my head and blew a kiss to Sawyer. She pretended to catch it and smiled at me as I walked out of the trailer. I trudged through the mud and dragged my feet to Southside high. That’s when I heard an all to familiar voice call my name,

“Serena!” the voice carried from across the school parking lot and I followed it to the source, Toni. She jogged up to me and engulfed me in a hug. I eagerly hugged her back and felt relief wash over me. It felt so good to breathe in my best friend’s familiar scent. She moved back a step and beamed at me.

“Are you excited for your first day at south side high?” she said with fake enthusiasm. I laughed and nodded.

“I am dying with anticipation.” I threw my hand over my face in an attempt to fake feint. She rolled her eyes at my dramatics and grabbed my hand.

“Come on. You must meet my friends. I have been telling them about you all week.” I squeezed her hand and followed her to a row of bikes. She let go of my hand and stood beside a boy with dark hair.

“Serena, this is Fangs.” She introduced. Fangs stood up straight and adjusted his leather jacket attempting to look buff. Toni rolled her eyes and whacked him on the back of the head.

“Do not show off doofus.” She said. Fangs portrayed a look of fake shock,

“I would never do such a thing.” He said to her.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Serena. I have heard so much about you and how much of a badass you are.” He said smiling widely at me. I laughed and gave Toni a look of Really? She shrugged and started to introduce me to the next person, but my ears tuned her out as soon as I saw him.

He was leaning against his bike and slightly slouching. He had on all black, besides his dark blue plaid shirt that clung to his chest just enough to see his muscles underneath. He had dark hair that fell slightly into his brown eyes. His skin was tanned, and a serpent tattoo dawned his neck. His fingers were covered with rings and he wore a lazy smirk that said, “I do not give a shit about anything.” He was quite tall for his age, but he wore the height well. His gazed was fixated on my face and I could feel my own face heating up. This guy was the definition of tall, dark and handsome and his gaze was currently piercing into my very soul. Fuck, he was sexy. I was brought out of my trance by my best friend,

“Serena, did you hear what I said?” she asked slightly annoyed. I glanced over at her and then back at the boy. I heard Toni sigh.

“Anyways, this is Sweet Pea.” She announced. Sweet Pea. I thought. This new school just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

[eldritchsurveys]

1069.

5k Survey LXXXI

4151. Paraphrase (rewrite) this sentance without using any of the words currently in it that are more than 2 letters long (except THE you can use THE). If anyone should steal this survey from you they should paraphrase YOUR sentance and so on. Deep in the heart of turn of the century India a young mongoose is adopted by a british family >> ... It just hit me that I’m in the 4000s. I’m almost done with this thing! 4152. A baby is born with a terminal disese. She will suffer agonizing pain for 5 years and then die. The mother gives the baby a sleeping medicine and it dies. Mom claims it was a mercy killing. Prosecution claims it was murder. You are on the jury. What is your vote? >> I’m on the mother’s side. Unfortunately, the law is the law, so technically it is murder, and I’m sure my opinion would be the outlier and she’d be found guilty of such. Ah, well. 4153. Why doesn't poetry say outright what it means? >> Why should it? 4154. Read this sentance: It was dark in the subway and the man held a razor in his hand. Now delete it. Done? Now write any sentance you want there instead. >> ... 4155. What is your opinion of Orson Welles? >> I don’t know anything about him and I’ve never read anything by him. I’m not even sure I’m remembering him correctly as an author, which goes to show you how little I know about him.

4156. If you were a lotion, what would your label say? >> --- 4157. What side is your good side? >> ??? 4158. Rewrite that sentance you deleted up there as best you can. Try to get the idea across even if you don't get the exact words right: >> --- 4159. What is your favorite work by Edgar Allen Poe? >> I don’t have a favourite. 4160. Of the following short stories which would you be most likly to read (based on titles alone if you aren't familiar with them, 1 is most likely 9 is least likely)?? Young Goodman Brown The Cask of Amontillado The Story of an Hour The Metemorphasis Barn Burning The Lottery A & P The Sandkings Minority Report 4161. What is the differance between a norm and a value? >> I’m not sure. 4162. Can you think of a norm in your own culture that is different from a value in your culture? >> --- 4163. Who is your favorite star wars character? >> I don’t have one. 4164. Why haven't we begun to colonize the moon? >> I’m sure you can figure out why. 4165. What did you think of the shuttle columbia blowing up? >> I don’t have any thoughts about that. I mean, that’s... bound to happen at some point. 4166. What do you remember about the challenger? >> I don’t remember the Challenger. I wasn’t alive at the time. 4167. Is the force with you? >> I’m guessing not? 4168. What is your favorite spoof movie? >> I don’t have one. I hated most of them. 4169. Would you ever own a(n): human slave? robotic slave (where the robot is consiouss of itself)? trained ape slave? human clone slave? >> The answer is no, I would not own slaves. Like... come on. 4170. What can no one stop you from doing? >> There’s nothing no one can stop me from doing, since you can always murder me. That’d stop everything I’m doing. 4171. Who would you be bored without? >> Hmm. 4172. What is your only hope? >> --- 4173. Would you rather visit france or puerto rico and why? >> Puerto Rico. Well, it’s closer and probably less expensive, for one. Also, warmer. Also, France has never really been high on my list (it’s still on the list, just not as high as most other places). 4174. Have you ever corrupted someone or dragged them down? >> No??? I mean, maybe, by someone’s assessment, but I’d assume not... 4175. If you could say/teach one thing to all the youth of america what would it be? >> --- 4176. Does any part of your body get in your way? >> Well, like, sometimes my foot gets in the way of my other foot and I trip over the first foot. 4177. Leia or Amidala? >> --- 4178. Do you trust your feelings? >> Not to make all of my decisions for me... but I don’t need to trust them. I just need to respect them and give them their space. 4179. Do you feel empty or passionate most of the time? >> I vacillate between the two constantly. 4180. What was your moment of triumph? >> ??? 4181. Explain what piety is: >> I mean, it has a textbook definition, just look it up. 4182. In what ways are you a rebel? >> Oh, you know. The usual ways. 4183. In what ways are you a conformist? >> The ways that ensure I won’t go to jail or be hospitalised against my will. 4184. Do you like movie endings that leave you wondering or tie up all the loose ends? >> Either is fine, but it depends on what kind of movie it is. You can’t just slap any old ending on any old movie. 4185. What movie has the best soundtrack? >> I couldn’t say, I love a lot of soundtracks. 4186. What adventure would you like to undertake? >> --- 4187. Do you tip gas station attendants when you get full service? >> I have never driven in New Jersey. 4188. Do you own any souvenirs; what from where? >> Yeah, some stuff from NOLA. They have the best souvenirs, all other places wish they were that creative. 4189. Does your age make you embarrassed? >> No??? 4190. Are you the strong and silent type? >> No, I am not a character archetype. 4191. What do your shoes look like? >> Well, both pairs are black. 4192. Do you ever admire yourself while naked? >> Not usually. Maybe one day. 4193. If you could make someone's clothes magically disappear who would you do it to and where? >> That sounds awful. Don’t do that. 4194. Who is more foolish, the fool or the fool that follows the first fool? >> Well, they’re both fools... so does it really matter... 4195. A good website for the bored (not a diary one): >> --- 4196. Did people REALLY land on the moon? >> I assume so. 4197. Would you rather live for a month in India or Alaska? >> I don’t know what it’s like to live in either place, so how could I possibly say? 4198. What is one country you would NEVER visit and why? >> --- 4199. Who is the busiest person you can think of? >> --- 4200. What is the average length of your relationships? >> Average length???

[ibilenews]

Indonesia’s first 3 COVID-19 patients open up about online hate and stigmatisation

JAKARTA: "Because of you, my wedding is now cancelled," said one social media post.

"Because of you, my graduation is cancelled," said another.

There was also another post that said: "Because of you, I lost my job."

These negative messages were among the many that Sita Tyasutami received since last month. She also got death threats.

The 30-year-old is known in Indonesia as Case 01, the first person who was tested positive for COVID-19 in the country.

She has since recovered from the illness, but hate messages are still appearing in her social media accounts.

“They still get me sometimes,” she said during a phone interview on Monday (Apr 6).

Tyasutami, who is a professional dancer and an independent performing arts manager, was declared positive on Mar 2, after being sick for some days.

When President Joko Widodo broke the news on that Monday morning that the country had its first two COVID-19 cases, Tyasutami did not even know that she had the disease.

Although she and her mother Maria Darmaningsih, who became known as Case 02, were already warded in separate rooms at Jakarta’s Infectious Disease Hospital Sulianti Saroso, it never crossed her mind that they both had COVID-19.

Tyasutami’s older sister Ratri Anindyajati, who is an independent producer and arts manager, was the one who broke the news to her mother.

“Ratri called me. She was so nervous,” Darmaningsih, 64, recounted.

“I turned on the TV and I saw the news about Mr Jokowi announcing the country’s first two COVID-19 cases. I was like: 'Oh my goodness' ... I felt so broken."

A nurse was coincidently in Darmaningsih’s room when Anindyajati called.

But she couldn’t verify whether Darminingsih and her younger daughter Tyasutami had COVID-19.

MEDIA FRENZY AT THEIR HOUSE

Mr Widodo did not mention the names of the country’s first two COVID-19 cases. But within minutes, messages started to circulate on Whatsapp indicating Tyasutami’s and Darmaningsih’s initials. Their health records and complete home address were also made known.

A few hours after Mr Widodo made the announcement, the health minister also held a press conference revealing details and the medical history of Case 01 and 02. What was announced matched the profile of Tyasutami and Darmaningsih.

“I asked a nurse who was visiting me in my room whether there were other patients currently warded at the hospital,” said Tyasutami.

“The nurse said no. So it must be us the president was talking about!” Tyasutami recounted.

At that stage, the nurses said they had no details on what was going on.

Tyasutami and her mother later found out that it is the protocol in Indonesia that during a specific disease outbreak, the president must first be informed before the patients are made aware.

The day did not unfold well, according to Tyasutami, Darmaningsih and Anindyajati.

A flood of messages filled their handphones, asking them various questions.

Journalists flocked to their house in Depok city, on the outskirts of Jakarta, while health officials raced to disinfect their house and test everyone living there, including Anindyajati.

The 33-year-old artist actually resides in Vienna, Austria, but she has been in Indonesia since February for professional and family matters.

ALL THREE TESTED POSITIVE FOR COVID-19  

Just like her younger sister and her mother, Anindyajati was ill towards the end of February.

All three of them had been suffering from a combination of complaints such as itchy throat, fever and joint pain.

But Anindyajati quickly recovered and took her mother and sister to a local hospital in Depok on Feb 27.

Tyasutami was originally diagnosed with bronchopneumonia and Darmaningsih with typhus.

They were both hospitalised. Tyasutami later heard from a friend that she had attended the same dance event as a foreigner. The latter later went to Malaysia and tested positive for COVID-19.

Tyasutami did not know the lady but she immediately thought that she should be swabbed for COVID-19.

She and her mother were then transferred from the hospital in Depok to Jakarta’s Infectious Disease Hospital Sulianti Saroso.

Once officials knew Tyasutami and Darmaningsih were COVID-19 positive, Anindyajati also underwent a swab test.

Her result was also positive. She was warded at the same hospital on Mar 5 and became known as the country’s Case 03.

ROAD TO RECOVERY

“Clinically, our symptoms were mild. Maybe out of everyone, I had the worst symptoms,” Tyasutami said.  

“When I was hospitalised, I only had a cough. It was a bad cough ... But when I was told I was positive and with all the stigma surrounding me, I was so stressed. My health got worse in the first few days."

People bombarded her social media accounts, sending nasty messages and blaming her for bringing the disease into the country. She set her accounts to private mode.

“I had high blood pressure ... up to the point when I could hear and feel my heart beating. It was so loud and fast. I started to vomit ... so it was really stressful,” Tyasutami recounted.

All three of them didn’t have any underlying conditions and they were generally fit.

“How did I recover? I just tried to be happy, which was very difficult at first. But then Ratri, my mom, my whole family, my friends, and even friends whom I haven’t seen in 15 years were all supporting me."

"And then my photos were being circulated ... Ratri said because we had quite a few followers, let’s make positive campaigns. 'I’ll make the wordings, you just need to repost',” said Tyasutami who is also a dance teacher.  

SUPPORT FROM FRIENDS AND FAMILY

They started to share positive messages on social media. They also replied to messages from people who wanted to know what their symptoms were and other questions relevant to COVID-19.  

Both sisters were in separate rooms. However, as the rooms were on the same hallway, they could see each other.  

They kept themselves busy by exercising and practising yoga. Tyasutami even did handstands and was warned by the nurses who monitored them on the CCTV to be careful.

The three of them also wore a bit of makeup to feel better. They meditated together online, together with their families who live in other cities.

Meanwhile, Darmaningsih continued to dance in her isolation room.

Family support was the most important factor to recovery, she added.

On Mar 13, Tyasutami and Anindyajati were discharged.

The two sisters were happy, but worried at the same time.

“I felt bad because I didn’t want to leave mom behind,” said Anindyajati.

Three days later, Darmaningsih could finally go home.

The experience has made them more health-conscious.

They try to drink more water and Darmaningsih, who is the founder of the Indonesian Dance Festival, tries to rest more.  

Since everyone is encouraged to stay home, the sisters are trying to spread positive campaigns to counter the hate messages which they are still receiving.

They have been approached to join fundraising campaigns for COVID-19 causes. Some people are also seeking emotional support from them.

“When the positive campaigns started, we had people who were so encouraging. They were telling us that listening to our stories made them feel very calm," Anindyajati said.

“We just keep going because we know we’re all in the same boat."

[researching01]

Amelia Butlin's Instagram About Chronic Pain Encourages People To #BelieveUs & Here's Why It's So Important

New Post has been published on https://headacheshelp.com/awesome/amelia-butlins-instagram-about-chronic-pain-encourages-people-to-believeus-heres-why-its-so-important/

Amelia Butlin's Instagram About Chronic Pain Encourages People To #BelieveUs & Here's Why It's So Important

For most people, pain comes and goes. It can be agonizing and immobilising, lasting for days, weeks, months, or even years. Yet we can feel safe in the knowledge that the ache were experiencing isnt our permanent state of being. But this isnt the suit for everyone.

You never imagine yourself waking up one day and simply being in pain that will never run, says Amelia Butlin, the 26 -year-old illustrator behind an Instagram account documenting the experiences of those living with chronic pain and illness: @cantgoout_imsick .

With few advocates or resources online, Butlin has decided to use her love of art to create a community for women who want to share their experience with chronic conditions and the crippling, never-ending pain associated with them.

Earlier this year, Butlin began describing portraits of celebrities like Selma Blair, Lena Dunham, and Sarah Hyland, who have spoken out about their experiences with multiple sclerosis( MS ), endometriosis, and kidney dysplasia, respectively. Underneath her portrait, Dunham commented Wow I just cried thank you. Since then, the illustrator has been inundated with messages from people who want to share their own tales, encouraging her to start a series she calls #BelieveUs.

[ Living with chronic pain] is one of these things that is so isolating, she explains over coffee at her local tavern in Fulham, London. Unless you have engaged with the online community of sufferers you would think it’s only you, because youre made to feel that way.

Butlin was hospitalised with chronic meningitis in 2013 after her first year examining History of Art at the University of Leeds. But as she moaned into a hospital pillow to stop herself hollering from her migraines, she had no idea the ache would stay with her for this long. You dont imagine that could happen, she says. Butlin has now been diagnosed with Postural tachycardia syndrome( PoTS ), a nervous system disorder that causes lightheadedness and fainting, Ehlers-Danlos syndromes( EDS ), a connective tissue ailment, and fibromyalgia, which causes all-over body pain, headaches, extreme fatigue, and problems with mental process( also known as fibro-fog, according to the NHS ). In her experience, Butlin has found that if one thing isn’t working in your body, then the rest of your body kind of falls apart.

While one in three individuals in Britain suffer from some degree of chronic pain or discomfort, as the Ramsay Health Care hospital group reports, it remains an under-researched and dramatically underfunded area. And one that affects women seriously. In fact, as NRS healthcare reports, fibromyalgia has nearly two million sufferers in the UK alone, and 80 -9 0 percent of those people are women.

Lady Gaga spoke about her battle with fibromyalgia as she prepared for the Super Bowl halftime show in her 2017 Netflix documentary Gaga: Five Foot Two. It became an important moment for discussions around the illness, as the vocalist proved the psychological and physical suffering on camera for all to see.

Butlin explains how she had to go through a grieve process for the person she was before the ache began. Because you’re never going to be that person again, she says, so “youve got to” grieve yourself and attain the most of this new life that you have now because it’s merely not the same. It’s hard. It’s almost like the death of yourself.

Because fibromyalgia cannot be detected in blood tests or scans, and patients appear normal and healthy, get the correct diagnosis poses a huge problem. Butlin explains that people are often disbelieved by both doctors and loved ones, which can come with serious psychological repercussions for the sufferer.

We all grow up going to the doctor, they give you antibiotics and then you’re fine, Butlin says. But thats not been the case at all. I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD from all of the trauma I’ve had going to the doctors and people not believing you and saying it’s in your head.

By starting her illustration project, Butlin has realised she is not alone in feeling this route. One woman, whose story is shared in a caption under the title Believe Rose , said: I have been misdiagnosed and written off as crazy too many times to count. I was sent to a locked eating disorder division when I was 17 because my doctors presumed I simply didnt want to eat. In reality I was in excruciating pain and vomiting every time I feed. I was told it was bulimia, anorexia, anxiety, depression, psychosomatic ache, all before they would admit they couldnt figure out what was wrong. I have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and its not in my head. My pain is real. My dislocations are real. My vomiting and nausea are real. It is all real.

Reading these tales about various chronic illnesses, it becomes clear just how much some people have had to fight to be believed. Jameisha,who has been diagnosed with the inflammatory autoimmune illnes Lupus, thinks its a combination of a lack of knowledge on their part, as well as my age and gender. Theres often a patronising tone, as if I don’t know much about my own body. She continues in her caption: But its not just physicians. Its also the stranger that assumes Im young and healthy enough to take the stairs, or the family member that only doesnt think Im trying hard enough.

Claudia,who has been diagnosed with myalgic encephalomyelitis( ME)/ chronic fatigue syndrome( CFS ), as well as fibromyalgia and hyper-mobility joint syndrome, is also quoted saying: I would report constant muscle stiffness, hip ache, back ache since I was a teen and be met with silence. I have self-diagnosed my entire life and been my own physician because no one heard me.

Even Selma Blair, who Butlin has illustrated, was told the reason she was feeling depleted all the time was because she was a single mom . It took her collapsing at the doctors for them to give her the tests they needed to be diagnosed with MS.

Sufferers of endometriosis( a condition where tissue that are usually lines the inside of your uterus grows outside your uterus, often affecting your ovaries, fallopian tubings, and the tissue lining your pelvis) are some of the worst hit, with an average diagnosis time of 7.5 years in the UK. Yet figures shows that one in 10 people with a uterus suffer from the endometriosis.

For those shown on Butlins account, chronic illness has presented two debilitating problems: the physical pain of their condition and the emotional burden of trying to convince others it exists. In a similar way to the # MeToo movement, Butlin hopes # BelieveUs will encourage those living with chronic conditions to find strength in numbers and speak out about the mistreatment they have faced, with women finally saying Im not going to live in pain in silence.

Read more: bustle.com