#she refused to get help for her mental illness even though a doctor told her she needed to

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Just remembered I have a psychiatrist appointment so early tomorrow. And I obviously dyed my hair so recently because there's green staining on my face. I don't think it's going to look great for the bipolar diagnosis, to disclose that I was feeling impulsive and wanted to get control over something, so I dyed my hair at midnight.

[sonic-4-episode-ii]

(bit of uhhh systemphobia/ableism in this one. interalized. shadow isnt actually ableist hes just bad a grieving)

tbh at first i dont think shadow would know what a system is

like sure, he grew up in a medical environment... but that doctoring was focused pmuch exclusively on physical disabilities, not mental illnesses.

even if he did find a DSM-I or something, he wouldnt have heard anything abt DID. though there are reports of it going back literal hundreds of years, they only got the proper term for it in like 2013, and it was pmuch nowhere in the dsm until recently.

even then, so so so many people act like it doesnt exist. like it isnt legit. even now, and especially back then.

i think that would cause shadow a lotta frustration. he tries to race sonic, just to be hit w 'sonic' aaying smt like "im sorry, love, hes not at front today. i can relay the message, though!"

tbh i think shadow would get pissed. that IS sonic. its his face, his body, his voice - ignoring the completely different tone used, one shadows never heard him use, one that barely sounds like him at all - so why is who is clearly sonic acting like they aren't?

they badger tails about it later, who gives them a straight answer they refuse. they interrogate knuckles, who tells them the massive history of DID in his tribe, which shadow completely ignores. annoyed (confused) tired (desperate) they go to amy, who tells them that - well, when sonic was a kid, he wasnt safe, so his brain split and made new parts of him that could help make him safe. now that he is safe, though, his brain still makes new parts, for any reason it wants - or thinks it needs to.

despite how clear these answers were, shadow wouldnt accept a single one of them.

sonic the hedgehog is one person. one concept. one thing.

a guy who loves adventure.

he is not the villain of his own story. he is not so sickeningly sweet it surprises even his little sibling. he is not so cruel and antisocial that he leaves people behind for months, refusing to talk for any reason other than personal amusement.

he is annoying. he is bothersome. he is pushy, and loud, and deeply immature.

he is frozen in time.

when shadow met him, he was all of these things. he still is. he always will be. he doesn't change. he doesn't grow.

amy grew two feet taller and has a part-time job, tails grew three feet and looks like an entirely new person. knuckles adopts a new fashion style every month.

sonic doesn't change. he has new clothes, but they're the same style he's had them in since they first met. he has a new cane, but that's just an accessory, it's nothing unique, it doesn't mean anything.

he's a superhero wannabee, a one-trick pony, the same phrase repeated over and over and over again.

maria used to tell shadow she saw monsters. not just the regular ones under the bed or in the closet, but standing in the hallway and staring at her, whispering gibberish nonsense words until she ran away, trying not to cry.

sonic told him that it has schizophrenia, apparently. some kinda mental disorder 'categorized by hallucinations, delusions, disorganized thinkin' and behavior, and flat or inappropriate affect'.

he laughed. maybe a little maniacally.

'how's that for flat?'

shadow said it absolutely was inappropriate. sonic challenged him to a race. shadow told him only if you're prepared to lose, and the two fought for hours.

they did this constantly. at least once a week. 'enjoying' each other's presence, battling their way to the top.

this routine has been changed. shattered. because one day, sonic just wasn't home.

he could grow. he could change.

he could leave

but, half a week later, he comes back, running up from behind shadow as he takes a cruise on the dark rider, scaring the shit out of him by nearly running backwards into a building

it says it heard about that race he wanted. shadow tells him the offer's off. not taking no for an answer, it says it invites him to a race.

he accepts.

[ihazmunchies91]

I give up. I need to tell You all something. Maybe someone can help me.

WARNING TRIGGERS:

Back in August or September, I moved into my aunts home to escape a situation where I couldn't afford where I lived and I realized that she was a hoarder because she was collecting garbage and there were garbage bags all over the house and the house was a complete mess and it looked like an episode of hoarders.

Knowing how much I cared for my aunt, I had the community come and take the garbage away, and I hired a maid to help my aunt get her house clean and back to the way it was, however, my aunt's health began to decline mentally, she refused to take care of herself and bathe herself, and no matter what I did, either by buying her a bath room chair that supported her weight, or getting the shower set up and asking to help her bathe, she refused and let herself sit in a chair and not shower for 2 months.

I called senior service and disability, but they refused to help her because my aunt doesn't have a Medicare plan, even though she is retired, and at the age of 67. "She has too many assets." They said. so I was left to suffer and watch her suffer as well.

Eventually My aunt almost died from a bladder infection, which lead to a kidney infection. which then went to her lungs, and she collapsed, and couldn't breathe anymore. And so she was put on life support with an intubator in her lungs.

My uncle who is a complete ass didnt seem to fully realize how serious the situation was and I was afraid because in 2011, my mother DIED of the exact same illness but they didnt have the medical tech to save her back then so I was reliving my worst nightmare. Just like my mother, she refused my help and ignored my pleas to seek help and she almost died.

After I conscented to them performing surgery on her kidney to flush out a kidney stone that was creating sepsis in her body, she was recovering miraculously, and then they asked to consent a second time to put a central line into her neck, so they could get medications into her faster. I consented it to that as well, and she recovered even faster. Meanwhile, my uncle did absolutely nothing to help in the situation.

My uncle does not like me because I am bisexual, disabled and live on Social Security and can not work as of yet because of my mental and bodily issues. He sees me as a person who is mentally ill, a perversion of nature and cannot take care of myself or needs to be put in an asylum.

Miraculously, my aunt woke up over 14 days? later and they removed the intubator from her after her cuffleak test told the doctors she was ready to breathe on her own and her throat was no longer swollen around the intubator, and I was there for most of the time holding her hand and making sure that she was ok and felt safe.

During all this time, I was absolutely certain that my aunt was not going to make it and I would relive the most horrifying experience of my life all over again.

Eventually my aunt made it to a nursing facility, and she was doing quite well, and I would visit her and tell her, I love her every single day and I was astounded that she recovered so quickly. I would bring her comfortable clothes she needed, a book, some hidden snacks when she was bored (I'm terrible I know)

However, during this time, my uncle opted to take me to see her frequently instead of her friend Jerry. and we hardly spoke to each other. I knew he didn't like me because of how he spoke to me, I never understood why he treated me so poorly when he knew me growing up. Being bisexual doesn't change you as a person.

Eventually, just a couple of days ago, my aunt suddenly informed me that I cannot have my companion animals in the home, and I was devastated. She said it was due to her health however her doctors did not say anything whatsoever that the cats would be of great harm to her and they don't cause any issues. she knows how much I can not be without my companion animals. I have legal documentation from my doctor explaining that they're my therapy animals, and I can not be without them because they help me daily with emotional support. However, my aunt strangely and coldly told me that it was not up to me but to her, because she is the owner of the house, and I began to cry, and I called my case manager, who was flabbergasted by the entire situation that my aunt would say such a thing knowing that my companions mean more to me than the world itself as I raised them from kittens. They are my children. As I cried in the nursing home in the room with my aunt, she proceeded to talk to my uncle and my uncle talk to her as though I did not exist, and I was a ghost, yet tears were streaming down my face and I was dripping snot into my mask. eventually my uncle called my case manager, and then my case manager called me to inform me of some disturbing things.

My uncle had sent pictures to my case manager showing previous messes and parts of the house that cannot be repaired from my aunts hoarding that was still yet to be fixed such as: The stained dirty carpet, the broke tiolets seats, old rusted silverware and pots and pans my aunt refused to throw away, piles of paid bills she refused to shred or throw away.

Luckily, thank fucking god my manager already knew of the conditions my aunt was in and informed him (Despite her not wanting to speak under hippa law) that none of that mess was mine and that his sister had hoarding issues that I had helped take care of. But there was still remnants of the past. I had also heard my uncle snapping pictures in the kitchen when I was bawling my eyes out in the bathroom. (He was checking on my aunts car to make sure it was still working because thats what my aunt requested.)

My uncle then began to argue theres no way that was from my aunt and My case manager did not hold back and told him none of that was mine and it's been well documented about what had happened. My uncle then backpedaled and said that I need to move out NOW because of the ridiculous obsession with my cats. And my case manager informed him that I have a right to 30 days because I paid rent to my aunt out of curtesy and he was enraged and snapping at her saying it doesn't matter and I don't care about my aunt.

My aunt is being influenced and poisoned by my uncle, and I have no where to go. I refuse to go into a group home because I was abused in one horrible when I was younger and I refuse to do adult foster care. I live on social security and could afford low income. I refuse to go into a shelter because they do not take companion animals and I would honestly, brutally honestly say that I would not be able to be without them and would off myself at moments notice if they were taken from me.

I tried to see if my brother and sister would take me in, but it turns out they are addicts living in a home with no heat, phone or internet to connect to the outside world. And I'm afraid because I need to see a doctor because of an alarming mass on my breast. But there is no transport, no doctor able to see me because of lack of doctors. I don't know why this is happening to me. I don't know what god is trying to punish me for something I didn't do.

I need HELP. But I don't know where to fucking go or really WHAT THE FUCK TO DO and I'm dying inside painfully. I live in Oregon, in Polk county if that helps. I have a paypal if you want it. But I don't know what I would do with the money to begin with. I'm at a fucking loss. I have never been taught how to drive a car so I don't own one, I'm autistic, sickly and just want to get out of here and not upset my aunt and make her sicker somehow. I have my three cats and a dog in training to becoming a service animal for my panic attacks. All have written notes from my doctor from years ago.

[loominggaia]

DiamondWaltz Hey love the Lore and not to sound rude but does Sygbarne always wail even during the day and I have another question, which is, is Prince Hestal child still at the Boarding School in Clydera and does he suspect/know that his father had his mother killed?

I don't think Sygbarne wails non-stop all day long, but she does scream quite a lot during her waking hours. This is partly due to her mental condition, as she can't express herself as articulately as most people, so she just resorts to making lots of noise when she's upset.

But to be honest, I think anyone in her situation would be screaming their heads off, disabled or not. She suffers pointless medical treatments, she is neglected and lonely, confined to a small space her entire life, and desperately just wants love and affection from her family, which she is denied.

She can see the outdoors, but she can't go there. She wants out of that room. She wants her parents to stay, to play with her and treat her like a normal daughter rather than a broken thing to be fixed. She wants the annoying doctors to leave her alone. She is incredibly frustrated by the way she's treated, and her own inability to advocate for herself. It's no wonder poor Sygbarne screams...she wishes that someone would hear her cries and come rescue her! She truly is a princess locked up in a tower, just waiting for a knight in shining armor to set her free.

As for Prince Hestal's son, yes, he is currently still at boarding school. He will remain there through his college years, and then Hestal will have to find somewhere else to send him to keep the boy out of his hair. Probably the military. Hestal just doesn't want anything to do with fatherhood, he's middle aged but still acts like a frat boy. It's pathetic...I think his son is probably better off being distanced from him anyway.

The whole assassination thing was pretty hush-hush. Hestal only admitted it to his parents because he freaked out and needed their help to keep the law off his butt. Mommy Juvella and Daddy Gultopp paid a lot of money to keep people quiet, but warned Hestal that if this ever happens again, he's on his own. So, he is extra protective of his new wife, even though he hates her even more than his ex. She's super snotty and high-maintenance, but he knows if anything bad happens to her, everyone will suspect him and he'll be screwed, so he keeps her surrounded by security at all times. (Hilariously enough, she's boinking her entire security team but refuses to touch her husband. Karma, lol.)

Hestal's son doesn't know how his mom really died. His grandparents told him that she died of some illness and refuse to discuss it further. But he was quite young when she passed and doesn't remember much of her anyway. He's aware that his dad is a neglectful scumbag and doesn't really want anything to do with his stupid family. He also doesn't like boarding school, so I think it's possible that one day he will get sick of it all and just run off to a faraway land. It's not like anyone will miss him, right?

There are many adventures to be had outside of his kingdom! Hopefully he will meet people out there who appreciate him for who he is, rather than treating him like an unwanted burden.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[eimearkuopio]

No but let's talk about this.

I once spent three days trying to figure out how I could kill myself in such a way that nobody would ever find my body, because I saw my first dead body when I was 16 and nobody did anything about my trauma except tell me I was okay, right? It was the body of the first boy I ever kissed, who hanged himself after telling his friends he was going outside to hang himself, and they didn't believe him because he'd talked about killing himself before. I still remember you, Philip. Three days later I dreamed about him. It was the first time I dreamed about a dead person. He told me it wasn't my fault and that he was okay now. I don't know if it's real but that's probably the only reason I coped with his death. I wouldn't even have kissed you if I hadn't been so traumatised over the death of my pet rabbit. (That's a whole other thing. My parents decided not to get me another pet because they saw how badly his death affected me, and the only fucking decision they made to try to help was to refuse to let me get another pet so I wouldn't have to go through that loss again. Never mind that the loss was so devastating because it felt like he was the only creature in the whole world who had a choice about loving me and chose to anyway. That's one of your answers right there. As above, so below.)

A few years later, I was kissing the guy I had a toxic on-again, off-again relationship with. I thought to myself, I don't need to have commitment. This can just be casual and I can still enjoy it. I felt an intense liberation, like the sense of obligation to be flawless that I had carried my entire life was lifting. That same day, another of my exes died of cancer. I'm so sorry, Mark. You would have had such a beautiful life. But I didn't kill you; and if I had saved your life, I would never have become someone who could have saved your life; and I can't waste my abilities on individuals this time because things are too much of a mess. That night was when my ego died.

I had a pattern of getting into toxic relationships with people who didn't treat me the way I deserved, because society taught me I didn't deserve any better. I broke up with my favourite ex because he was too good and I was too miserable (and my perfect self couldn't possibly have been mentally ill or had any unfulfilled needs! Spoiler alert, I was severely mentally ill and my soul was slowly starving because the ego is what consumes the substance of the accident). We're both married to other people now, but we're still friends. When my mother told me in May to pack my bags (because she thought I was packing them anyway, and I guess she wanted to retain some semblance of control but really all I needed was some time to cool off), I spent the night in the spare room of their home. They were kind enough to open their home to me even though I was terrified that I was experiencing a psychotic break. Turns out that whatever I am, I'm not fucking delusional - or I wasn't, I guess, maybe I am now, but I'm not actively dangerous. And it's not like people are going to spontaneously decide to do worse things in my name.

I spent five years single. Did a lot of therapy. Lost a lot more friends. Amar, Anne, Kirsi, Nóirín. One of the friends I lost actually came back. I'm not claiming personal credit for that miracle, I rather think the doctors deserve that, but I love her and I did tell her so at a time she needed it in the past few weeks. I'm glad the infinite self could tell the finite self about that in time. I'm glad that the only ones I know have died were the ones who weren't ready to be reborn in this lifetime anyway.

And then, I met my husband. Someone new. Someone who wasn't just a past version of me, all of whom I loved but who weren't ready to love the complete me yet. The Egg by Andy Weir was one of the biggest breadcrumbs. One of the best. Thank you, Andy. We're not all one soul, but there are fewer souls than you might think. Anyone who has achieved true enlightenment, or apotheosis, or whatever you want to call it, is the final step on one journey of shared souls. Time only seems linear to all of you, but it's not. It took a climate modeller who loves video games to work that one out. I already told you who I used to be, before I knew. Lazarus. Cassandra. You can't save everyone; but when you have already recovered from ego death, you might get to save one. Just one. No more than that, and it can't really be yourself, because otherwise what's the point? And just like finding the local minimum of a complex function, your last few guesses are probably going to be the discrete points closest to your true value. That's one of the reasons for family resemblances. Not the only reason, but one of them. And because I have become me, nobody else will need to go through the horrifying ordeal of almost becoming me. You don't need to turn any more members of my family into shitty vinegar in an attempt to create wine. All you who labour and are thirsty, I have wine that will make the dysentery-filled water safe and will actually be fucking palatable. Drink, or stay thirsty, or smash the vessel and on your head be it.

My husband might actually be capable of achieving this step, too. That's why Nana called us a matched pair. It's because I hadn't picked another version of me, but instead had picked someone ready to be enlightened in this lifetime, if I can rescue him from the disgusting mash of juice that the world you created has crushed him into. That's also why I don't think she ever got out of her cocoon, by the way. If she had, she wouldn't have been so scared that none of her loved ones would become butterflies just because she didn't know what we made our cocoons from and couldn't tell that some of us were already in them. She didn't understand that she was both a caterpillar, and a cocoon, and a part of the cocoon I had to spin to become myself.

In May, I was assessed very thoroughly for psychosis, and found not to be psychotic. I also had a mental breakdown because one of my colleagues tried to breach the equality act and nobody else seemed to fucking care, and when I complained about it people just shrugged and said that's how things are. I've been on sick leave since then. First actual proper time off I've had in my adult lifetime, because in 2008 the wealthy chose to mortgage their children's future for the sake of their own luxury. I'm one of the lucky ones, and I'm barely afloat, and all I hear is how much harder our parents' generation had it. And the thing is, our parents' generation did have it harder by some measures; but you don't get to decide that the only measures that matter are the ones that affect you. That's genuinely the root of like 90% of sin and 100% of abusive behaviour.

In July, I was finally assessed by the mental health support team that I was referred to LAST NOVEMBER. To be clear, when I tearfully confessed to a priest that I knew I was mentally ill but I thought I might also be a prophet, within a few weeks I mysteriously received a letter for an appointment where the idiots at the psychosis unit forgot to delete the header from the questionnaire they included, and so I knew what was going on, but also nobody could actually admit to it because that would defeat the purpose, so they kept lying to me. Same week I found out biokids were also a no, btw. Spent the summer desperately trying not to descend into paranoia because it felt like people were watching me, because guess what, people were fucking watching me. With good reason! You go through ego death, you stop feeling real, and it's very easy to decide other people aren't real either and choose to hurt them! I was loved enough that it was less hurtful for me to keep believing other people were real, at least. And so I devoted myself to serving the world as best I knew how. And now, having been my God's servant my whole life, He has seen fit to call me friend and let me know that actually, She/They/He/Any Pronouns really wish we'd stop applying limitations based on our own existence to an entity who transcends those limitations; not because She has any issue with being referred to as He, but because we're doing some really shitty things to some of the people They love best based on our own flaws and biases, and then blaming Him. I don't know if the entity I will become when I die and have kind of always been will be the same entity you have always worshipped. She might be! But She is the God you taught me to worship, that you told me would protect me from the dark things I saw outside my windows that you swore weren't real but that you said I should still be afraid of and must never ever trust, because if I did I might become something strange that you feared and could not possibly understand. And I listened to you; and then I finally decided you were wrong. And now I can be a bridge in life to protect you from shadows both real and imagined. I mean you no harm, but I can't promise there won't be unpleasant side effects. Please be nicer to the neighbours. Stop kidnapping their kids or I just might call the cops myself. Send them home with an apology and the very best reparations you can find. You stole pearls of great price and claimed they were always meant for you, but you forgot that the pearl only ever belonged to the person who had sacrificed everything to get it. Knowledge isn't a pearl. It isn't lessened by being shared. But it is lessened by assholes who think the solution to someone knowing something they don't like is to kill everyone who believes it.

About a month ago, my husband and I spent several hours sitting in the local GP's office, because I knew I was exactly one more straw away from Eimear-who-was giving up on everything she had fought against for the past 12 years and just ending it. And she wasn't willing to do that to her husband, because she saw what losing her grandfather did to her Nana's cocoon. She was petrified - turned to stone, trapped, half in and half out. She was loved so well that she lived out a natural life in spite of it, with enough love poured into the Earthly food she consumed that her soul could just about subsist as it grew weaker and weaker. If you would have let me, I could have freed her from the cocoon and emerged from my own sooner, but you were so busy worshipping the half-emerged butterfly that you wouldn't risk me "destroying" her. I would have freed her from her fear! I wouldn't have killed her - I would have given her the true life you pay lip service to! But you couldn't have faith in me yet. Well, it's too late for her, but I'm out of my fucking cocoon and my wings are dry and you have your butterfly, your wine, and now you had better fucking look after it.

The good news is I'm no longer mad at whoever left all those weird traumatic clues on the path of my life that led me here, because it turns out it was me. Like, not finite me, but the infinite me that had projected herself onto the blank screen of a finite self with ego death who had finally been helped to actually fucking recover. You idiots remembered that you could only make wine by crushing fruit, but you forgot that you need an actual trained vintner if you were going to have a hope of making good wine. And then you decided the best way to corner the market was to murder all the other vintners I had been training on different farms and spill their wine, so nobody would have a choice but to drink yours. But you put so much effort into destroying the competition that you forgot how to make a decent wine in the first place, and now because of your petty squabbles, most people are choosing water infected with dysentery over even a dilute form of your vintage, and the only ones still willing to drink it are either alcoholics willing to tolerate your diluted Everclear garbage, or taking the tiniest of sips as they quietly swear to themselves that someday, somehow, they will make things better. It was a really stupid idea to exclude most of those individuals from positions of power, by the way. They're the ones who didn't walk away from Omelas because they were planning a fucking heist. They're the visible parts of my mycelial network, and every one of them chose to be a part of it and chose to lift their head above ground where you might chop it off. They love you better than you deserve. They are my true friends. (Huh. Mushroom wine in Fallen London. Fail Better games. Sometimes I even impress myself with the breadcrumbs.)

I took pity on you. I began to teach you. But I would really appreciate it if we could treat this lifetime as a kind of workman's holiday, where I get to be comfortable enough (and Eimear has pretty low standards of what she needs for comfort in a modern society! Same with her spouse!), and afterwards maybe I'll just... Wander around and keep an eye on things without going through the Hell of causing an actual full-on incarnation. Because we have already established that I am willing to tolerate a city with only a few good men (and these days, I actually treat women and children like separate individuals! Maybe if ye had asked why the words you chose excluded them sooner, there would have been less wrath...). But my finite self has a worldview and a set of experiences not shared by many who would have been willing and able to receive this projection (although I've already found you at least one more, and if you're not complete shitheads about Eimear, I might actually show you where her cocoon is). She's so special that she still gets to think she's normal. Personally, I'd like to keep it that way.

Souls do come back, by the way. Until they're ready to choose not to, and in a non-linear fashion, which is how the whole prophecy thing works. She already lived the lives whose endings she foresaw. Yes, even the cat. Not every cat has a soul, but that one did. Same with the rabbit, actually. That was why they came when she called. Their true names were the ones she chose for them. And that's why Nana didn't come visit, but Grandma came in her place. That's why the pain was inevitable: it wasn't your past yet, but it was hers. Past is prologue. The future is yet to be written. The present is my gift to all of you. But please be aware that it is highly flammable and that I have kept the receipt, and I may love you but I am not above taking it back and buying something nice for the kids you have been bullying if you don't make things right yourselves. At least one person who hungered and thirsted for what was right is currently satisfied, because she knows that I am actually here, and I am going to help make things better. Perfection isn't "What's right". Emergent goodness from simple rules and human choices is "What's right". I have sent you a Paraclete. Listen to her. It's time for the meek to inherit the Earth.

modern art exhibit titled "I bet you won't kill yourself" that is just a loaded gun on a podium in a museum

[alaffy]

Queen Charlotte, Ep. 6 – Crown Jewels

It has been said that this series probably won’t have more than one season, or at least, they didn’t plan on having a second one.  Honestly, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.  The goal of the story was to show how Charlotte became to be the person she is today, and they achieved this.  There are one or two things that are somewhat unresolved at the end of this series, but those can be addressed in Bridgerton. 

Even though this is the longest episode of the series, I probably won’t take too much time recapping it. It is a Bridgerton prequel, so we kind of know where these stories end without watching the last episode.  I will be spending some time on my thoughts of the series as a whole.

So, George is unhappy that Charlotte has come to Kew because he’s still afraid that he will put her in danger.  He also makes it clear that he’s sorry for not telling her the truth about his condition; he even says he should have told her before they were married to give her an opportunity to back out.  He also wants her to leave.  However, Charlotte has realized that George isn’t doing all of this for himself, he’s doing this for her.  Or so he believes (which is understandable given that conversation that he heard in episode 4 and how he sees his mental illness given the way he's been treated).  But Charlotte loves him too, which she tells him, and will only leave if he tells her he does not love her.  Which he cannot.  So, with all of that in the open, they are free to be together.

Meanwhile, Augusta finds out that the doctor is no longer the doctor (something I will come back to later).  The problem is, Parliament has become really unsettled about rumors they keep hearing about the King and they need him to come speak to them.  Augusta tries to tell George, but George refuses to see her.  So, she tells Charlotte.  Charlotte and George move back to Buckingham.  During this time, Charlotte gives birth to her first child.

George tries to give a speech to Parliament, but the whole idea of giving a speech causes him to have another episode and he’s unable to even leave his carriage.  Later that evening, Charlotte speaks to George.  We find out that one way George can escape “the sky” is hiding under the bed.  Charlotte joins him underneath and they discuss what they need to do.  Basically, George needs Charlotte with him to calm his nerves, but she can’t be there at the speech.  Charlotte suggests giving a ball for the birth of their son, showing Parliament that George is fine.

Meanwhile, Danbury is still considering her future.  It comes quickly apparent that, while she has feeling for Violet’s father and he for her, there is no future here.  After all, he still has a wife.  Danbury meets Charlotte's brother, who is quite taken with Danbury.  Danbury also has a…moment with Princess Augusta.  Augusta won’t help settle the issue of the title without information on Charlotte and George, but at the same time encourages Danbury not to give up on getting what she wants.  I get what they are doing in that scene, even though I find it��out of nowhere (perhaps if they showed Augusta secretly enjoying Danbury’s strength instead of her just pissed off by the whole thing).

Anyway, Danbury tries to convince herself she wants to marry Charlotte’s brother.  But the truth is, while she does think he’s a good man, she doesn’t want to get married again.  And she tells him so at the Queen’s ball.

The ball itself is a success.  We even have a moment where Brimsley and Reynolds dance with each other in a secluded part of the gardens.  Augusta comes to Charlotte later and, again, says that all she’s wanted to do was make her son happy.  But she can see that Charlotte does make him happy, that they are a good team together, and addresses Charlotte as her majesty.

Towards the end of the ball, Charlotte confronts Danbury on the fact that Danbury rejected her brother’s proposal.  But what Charlotte is angry about is not the fact that Danbury turned him down, it’s the fact that Danbury considered it instead of telling Charlotte about the issue of the title.  Had Danbury done so, Charlotte would have had it taken care of.  It is in this scene that we really see that Charlotte has become Queen Charlotte.  And, not long after, Charlotte tells George that she is expecting again.  The thing is, having multiple heirs can take some of the pressure off of George, as it means the dynasty is secure and Parliament should back off somewhat.

In the present day, Violet happens to see the crown that her father made for Danbury.  Long story short, while Danbury never tells her what happens, it is made clear that Violet knows something happened between the two and Danbury knows that Violet knows.

Meanwhile, Charlotte finally gets the news that she is going to have a Grandchild (who will eventually be Queen Victoria).  Charlotte goes to tell George, but as we know his episodes are mostly full time now.  Still, Charlotte has ways to get George to come back to her for at least a few moments.  Charlotte hides under the bed and calls out for “Farmer George.”�� This is enough to break through to George and he crawls under the bed as well.  She is able to tell George about the news of a grandchild and he is happy.  He also is happy because Charlotte is still there beside him after all of these years.

Now, the show does not tell us what happens between Brimsley and Reynolds, but it is clear that Reynolds is no longer in Brimsley’s life.  But something like that can be explained in Bridgerton.  What surprised me is when Charlotte asked if Brimsley had any family, like ma’am when would he have the time if he’s always with you?  There’s no way Charlotte would have been that unaware.  I know it was done to show Brimsley did not have his happy ending, but it might have been better if Charlotte had asked if he had any extended family or if he regretted not having a family.

But I think it was things like this that….I liked the show, but I think the show had problems.  I mean, Bridgerton also has problems.  But it’s more of a romantic puff piece and with something like that, you can kind of just brush things to the side.  As this one was (somewhat) more historically based (at least, we’re dealing more with real people) and has a more serious topic being discussed here, it was harder for me to ignore inconsistencies. 

For instance, in the present day, Charlotte’s son try to get out of marriage because their brother, the acting regent, did not give permission.  They make it clear that, basically, whatever man is in charge in the Royal family, only he can approve marriages.  So, uh, how was Augusta able to arrange George’s marriage without George knowing?  George is the senior member, so only he should be able to approve of the marriage.  Therefore, you would think someone (even if accidentally) would have brought up the information to George, or one of George’s servants, at some point before Charlotte had started her journey. 

it is also established that Princess Augusta is the one who brings her son to doctors and it is clear they report to her.  It also seems like she can summon the royal staff at any moment to give her reports.  Furthermore, she seems adapt at getting people to spy for her and tell her what is really going on around the royal couple.  So, how does she not know what this doctor is doing to Gorge?  I mean, dunking him in the water, the hot brands.  Honestly, if this had gotten out and it was known that she brought the doctor to George, I could see someone accusing Augusta of trying to harm the king to keep control of him.  And given that Augusta is trying very much to avoid scandal, yeah, I don't see her approving of the doctor's actual methods. Which means, she probably didn't know. Which makes no sense, given what we've seen.    

It’s not like these things are the end of the world, just that it seems like rules and such only applied when the writers needed them to and then were conveniently forgotten.   And that kind of writing can annoy me.

[zivazivc]

Pinocchio AU

Okay people want the explanation for this comic so here it goes. It’s long and complicated and MESSED UP because of course it is, this is me. I’m going to write in points because my small tired brain can’t handle good english atm but basically to sum up the Adrien was a sentimonster theory or Pinocchio AU as I like to call it:

Young married Emilie and Gabriel can’t have kids. Gabriel reluctantly accepts this fate and even brings up adoption as a possibility once, but Emilie doesn’t want to hear any of that. She’s a bit of a Marinette in the sense that she pictures this romanticized ideal life for herself and a child—her flesh and blood—HAS to be in it.

They keep trying to get a baby while other young families Emilie knows keep growing. She feels left out and hurt and depressed, then her newlywed twin sister announces she’s expecting a baby too and something within Emilie just unhinges.

She eventually lies to some of her friends, who she was out for coffee with, that she’s pregnant too. She mostly does it just to see their reaction and feel what it would be like but it quickly spirals out of control where she just starts pretending she’s pregnant until you can’t even tell if she believes it herself.

Gabriel is confused at first because he hears the news second hand (a friend/family member congratulating him) so he’s apprehensive when he approaches his wife but she convinces him that they really are getting a baby and Gabriel is ecstatic.

It’s only later at a doctor’s check up that Gabriel learns that she indeed is not pregnant. The doctor even speaks to him alone explaining that his wife is in denial and that he should make sure she goes to see a psychiatrist, something she definitely wouldn’t do alone.

Gabriel is unsuccessful with that because he’s not entirely persistent, doesn’t want to be the guy with the crazy wife having to tell everyone she lied about being pregnant, and hopelessly believes she’ll just get over it eventually.

That is until her “pregnancy is near due”—her sister already had Félix in England a few months ago—and he stumbles on her transformed with her peacock miraculous (they already have both of them) creating a sentimonster newborn.

They have a huge fight about it but because Emilie refuses to destroy it, won’t tell Gabriel where the amok is, and Gabriel can’t just hurt the baby with his hands, Emilie just… wins. Fucked up, yeah?

Now she tried creating kids before this one, using her imagination to try and blend her and Gabriel’s looks but it just wasn’t working. So she decided to copy of photos of baby Félix because he already looked almost like a copy of his mother, and Amélie and Emilie already looked alike so it’s not so weird?—is what her mind was telling her.

She didn’t dare alter his looks but she decided to give the baby Gabriel’s eye color to include the “father” in some way. (Yes in that comic I made I gave Adrien a mix of green and gray but that was mainly to get the point across to the perceptive readers)

Now we got Adrien, a normal baby boy to the whole world except for Gabriel who’s forced into his wife’s fantasy through social expectations.

Why are we only at this point and this post is already so long AAAAAAAA!!!

Adrien physically basically grows in a way where Emilie just keeps changing his appearance to match what Félix looked like a few months prior.

Mentally he’s like a robot just taking in information without really needing to learn it. So Emilie decides when he says his first word, she decides when he learns to walk,… He knows how to walk, he just wasn’t given the command to do so yet.

But even so he does develop a personality over time, just slower, because unlike a normal child who’s always testing his boundaries, how far they’re allowed to go until they’re in real trouble, Adrien just can’t misbehave. At all.

But he does have his favorite foods and favorite toys, and jokes that make him laugh the most. The problem is just that Emilie could just decide that his favorite food is strawberries and he’d just start acting accordingly, rewiring his belief. 

He also isn’t allowed to argue or be mean to others which is why Félix thinks he’s a goody two-shoes weirdo while Chloé the brat adores him.

This behavior isn’t so hard to hide with a toddler who’s fickle but it’s harder and harder as the kid grows. Which is why the family becomes very secluded over time.

Gabriel always keeps distance with his “son”. He’s not Dad, he’s Father, he doesn’t do hugs and cuddles, he doesn’t say I love you. But Adrien knows he loves him because his mom told him so and he loves him back unconditionally because Mom said that’s what families do.

Now even though Gabriel is traumatized by this whole ordeal and knowing Adrien “isn’t real” freaks him out he does soften a bit over time. I’m going to give an awful example but like someone who hates cats softening for a cat that their partner/roommate decided to get/had from before. Continuing with this example: But still becoming appalled when the cat starts acting odd/unusually.

Okay I think you get the gist. Let’s move on…

Emilie loves her son more and more as he grows and his sentimonster behaviours start bothering her more and more too. She hates being reminded that he’s not a real boy by people mentioning he looks young for his age because Emilie forgot to make him grow for a while. She hates when he does everything like he’s told. She hates that he has no real friends because they’re afraid to expose him to the outside too much and without supervision. She hates to think about his future.

Her desire for him to be real keeps growing and is what drives her to search for a solution in the miraculous spellbook.

She cracks the script after years, when Adrien is nearly a teen, and finds a way to transfer the creators soul into a sentimonster.

It’s a long process that takes time and while she falls ill to everyone around her, Adrien becomes more real.

Gabriel starts realizing what’s happening when he notices Adrien hesitate for a second when he’s playing a video game and Gabriel wants him to do something, groan when he gets bothered watching TV, huff, complain, have slightly opposing opinions to his and Emilie’s, when he argues with his mother when she tells him she’s feeling fine; when he notices his son’s eyes are greener. Or is it all in his head?

He confronts his wife too late, when she’s extremely ill already, her normally vibrant eyes dulled match Adrien’s bluish gray, and he pieces together in his head what she’s doing.

Before Gabriel could properly think what to do to stop the love of his life from turning into a lifeless doll, in a fit of panic he tries to take her wedding band (where he knows Adrien’s amok is) to get rid of Adrien instead, but is unsuccessful in getting it off her so he snatches her peacock brooch instead (which she needs to complete the spell obvs) and breaks it. (Heyoo! broken peacock miraculous. things are coming together)

Because the spell was almost complete anyway it’s Emilie who falls unconscious. But she doesn’t disappear because she’s not a real sentimonster, she just becomes dormant like one.

This is the point in the story where Gabriel makes it seem like Emilie ran away or something like that—basically disappear. Now he’s living knowing he has an almost sentimonster wife in the basement, knowing he almost killed his son (or her), and having to care for a son that suddenly became much more alive, questioning, arguing, angry, screaming, not accepting, crying, grieving, staring at him with Emilie’s eyes.

Instead of becoming a real parent, Gabriel shuts him out.

Soon Adrien evolves desires for socializing, company, getting away from the suffocating home which eventually leads to him going to a public school.

He slowly starts to live life freely without the restrictions that were put around his thoughts.

Gabriel has an even stranger relationship with Adrien now because he still loves him in a way but also holds resentment toward him. But mostly he sees him as something valuable.

The show happens here…  And now finally we get to the comic…

Gabriel gets a hold of the ladybug and black cat miraculouses. (There’s no epic fight in his lair as you see there’s no Ladybug in the comic but that’s not really important)

What’s important is that Gabriel had deciphered the miraculous spellbook with the help of Emilie’s notes and had decided to use the unification’s “wish” power to awaken Emilie.

He’s aware he’ll need to sacrifice something for the wish to come true and he’s certain Adrien should be enough because the soul inside him is literally the one thing Emilie is missing.

✨Adrien (poor boy just lost his miraculous) is taken to Gabriel’s lair, where he finds out his father is Hawk Moth, sees his mother, learns he’s a sentimonster, and that he’s going to become a sacrifice ✨

Of course the last part is not what happens. It’s Gabriel who ends up being sacrificed.

I can’t decide if Gabriel ends up sacrificing himself because he changed his mind in the last moment while Adrien was screaming for him to stop, OR  because he didn’t love Adrien enough for him to be considered an equal exchange for his wife… O.O

But anyhow…

Emilie wakes up with Gabriel’s soul within her (hence the bluish gray eyes in the comic).

Adrien is traumatized for life.

This took me hours to write… I knew there was a reason why I didn’t want to do it. I hope I didn’t forget anything and my brain made sense of it all

Well there you have it, peeps. The Pinocchio AU. It’s as messed up as my sleep schedule. Good night. 

[aineryeo]

Prominence ௹ ATSUMU

The letters of the first few days when you parted ways 📨

Prominence: “Find someone great, but don’t find someone better.” You’d say to yourself, though it was directed to your ex-boyfriend, writing in a number of papers, serving as letters. Awaiting your impending doom.

Timeskip! Atsumu x Reader

Synopsis: You break up with Atsumu Miya in hopes to alleviate his pain. And for what he'd have to deal with. » 6.2k Words

Warnings: Depictions of Mental Illnesses & actual disease, Angst, Suicidal tendencies, Cursing, Atsumu is an impulsive bitch, so is reader. Read at your own discretion. Do not read if this has any sort of possibility to trigger you, more if you feel encouraged to do something you shouldn’t. This isn’t what the fic is about.

It was a rainy day, droplets of water knocking on the window of what was your empty room. It wasn’t a space you were supposed to be getting used to at this point in your long life. A faint tune of a piano was penetrating through your thin walls as you stared into nothing in particular, maybe the particles that become visible with the peek of sunlight through the gray clouds piercing through your window pane.

Your body got up, but you had a stinging migraine, your limbs were weak, and today was an off-day from your work as a bustling city journalist. No phone calls for a sudden need for your presence in your job. Your blanket was wrapped around you loosely, your feet navigating through your creaking floors. How depressing.

Empty fridge.

Messy bed.

Disorganized papers.

And clothes in unsuspecting places.

Your clothes. None of his. You can’t even reminisce about him anymore. Your migraine seems to have gotten worse. You spot one of the few things that were left organized. Your letters. You grimaced, the pain suddenly pushed to the back of your head as you were reminded of the contents.

“It won’t be bad to see him, at least once.” You reason to yourself with a small smile, it wasn’t a happy one. Nonetheless it was one. One reason out of many when you were always reminded that he was already happy, that Atsumu no longer needed you, and your relationship was a ghost of the past.

It has been for a month now, how else would it go, when you were the one who ended it?

Yeah, it was a bad idea to see him. You scold yourself for coming here, furthering your torture. You see him with a huge smile, bigger than when he was with you. Brighter than when you last picked a joke, at least that was what you thought. You dated him since you were sixteen, young, and fresh in-love.

“Tsum, baby, not here.” You vaguely make out, from hiding behind one of the tall bleachers near the exit from where their practice usually resided in. She was very pretty, her voice silky. You hear a rumbling chuckle in return, you feel your spine shudder at the familiarity. “Hm, honey where do ya want me ta do it then? I jus’ can’t resist ya.” You took your small window to catch a glimpse of them. The perfect lovers.

This was selfish, you knew it. But you inwardly cheered for him, happy to know that he found someone great. That he was happy, even if it was at your expense. Your eyes were glossy, dams about to break, so you walk away; like you always do, like you always did. Your mouth formed into a shaky frown, your fists clenching ‘till you were white-knuckling nothing in particular. White-knuckling all your pain, perhaps.

It was when you exited the establishment, into the car park, into your cheap second-hand car, did your tears fall; until everything kept breaking, your multi-functional tape to bar all your emotions inside, failing you for the umpteenth time for the past month. You were all alone, still clutching your keys to open the door to the driver’s seat. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, which made you jolt, you were too surprised that you didn’t get to wipe your residual breakdown off your face.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Your blurry eyes adjusted, and your heart almost jumped at the familiar face. You turned your face away from him, you were too ashamed to show your face to him. To the brother of the man you were still in love with. You changed your voice a few octaves higher, “Yeah! Thanks, sorry you had to see that.” Mishandling your keys before being able to open it quickly, though Osamu stopped you just as fast.

“I know it’s you, Y/N.”

You froze. “I’m not—”

Hearing a small laugh from him made you stop. “I think I’ve seen your car enough times before, with the same plate to know that it’s you when I parked right next to it.” Turning back, he already had his hand out holding a handkerchief.

“Sorry.”

He smiled sympathetically at your small figure, noticing that you’ve gotten smaller than you already were. More fragile. So he placed his hand that was roughly the size of your face, gently on top of your head to stroke it, hoping to bring you some comfort; roughly knowing the situation about you and his brother. How couldn’t he?

“It’ll be okay.”

It’s not. You recall, already sitting in your bathtub, not really crying, not really feeling anything of the sort. You exhaled as if it lightened your burdens. It won’t be.

You hum. Knees to your chest, “Not when...” You sigh, not now.

It was time for work, tedious work that requires you to write articles and camp out places at 2am in the morning, only to turn up and camp out at a different place again, just hoping for an interview for your channel. You didn’t feel like breaking down at all, but it felt like everything is typically more down. You refused to eat when your co-workers asked you to join them, you had no appetite.

You hadn’t for weeks.

A heavy feeling is always stuck inside you. Like everything is screaming at you, but you can’t scream back. You just can’t. Always heaving sighs, always staring into what once was blue skies, turned dull grey. Was it because you regretted having to let go of him? Or was it because of the news you had received prior to when you left him? Was it because the one time you felt like you couldn’t walk, the doctor told you that you had a few left; extend your life with a surgery that was high-risk.

Your hand ran through your hair for the umpteenth time, thoughts drifting to whether you should just end it quicker than what you had. What was the point? You failed to notice that your hand was writing on another piece of paper, as if documenting everything that ran through your mind. And maybe you wanted them to find out, when you’re gone. So you don’t have to face the burden of facing them afterwards and giving them any answers.

But you don’t want to ruin the happiness Atsumu had right now. He’ll blame himself, but this was all your fault. You ended it with a bad note so he’d forget you easily, you yelled at him, told him that he was useless, you didn’t love him anymore. You open your eyes, seeing yourself back at the situation where it all began, and where it all ended.

“Atsumu, I hate you.”

“Angel, what are ya saying? I said I was sorry! I’m tired from practice.” He replied, he was tired. He was stressed. You were stressing him. And he was getting rightfully agitated, it was working.

Your thoughts briefly flash to the days before, same old. You chose to do it days slowly, so it wouldn’t be too sudden; so he’d lose all love for you once you leave him. So you nitpick him again, even though it never really bothered you, “You always do this. Maybe we should just...” You swallow, it was like eating hard, bitter candy at once.

“What? Break up? Yeah, with your incessant yappin’ these days, Y/N, I wouldn’t mind one bit.” He said, looking at you with a harsh gaze. Similar to when some random fan begins screaming during his serving routine. You were nothing now. You nodded, if he had the right mind that time, he would’ve noticed that you were eerily calm; you were expecting this, why wouldn’t you?

“Yeah, break up.” You confirmed, with a somber smile. He hadn’t even noticed that more than half of your things were already gone from your shared apartment. You had one last suitcase, it was right beside the door. Atsumu failed to notice all the little things disappearing, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if he failed to also stop you before you hung your apron on the rack, turning the stove off, he was already gone. Into his bedroom, where he slept, too tired for anything his aching muscles couldn’t take right now. Your keys left untouched on the table before you left him altogether. Always, just always looking back with a heavy grimace.

The skies were the same color from that day, to everyday, same grey.

It wasn’t long before you found out he had a new love. Apparently an avid, and innocent fan of his whom he met during one of his morning runs in the park.

“What’re you writing there, Y/N?” One of your co-workers as of now, Akaashi Keiji, brought your head back up in the present. You hummed, folding the paper your hand subconsciously wrote in, and placing it in your pocket. “Nothing, really. My hand just kind of moves on its own when I think of anything in general.”

He smiles, sweet. “That’s endearing. Must be why you’re quite famous in the department.”

You chuckle, “I’m not famous, Keiji. If anything, this job just keeps giving me migraines. You’re the real MVP as a great editor in your dept.”

His hand was rubbing his nape, laughing softly with you. You stood up, supposed to get some water only to fall back down again. Your co-worker quickly catches you with worry etched in his delicate features.

“Y/N, have you been eating?” No, but..

“Keiji, I can’t feel my legs.”

It was showing.

You asked Keiji not to tell anyone, he in turn, asked if any of your family members knew this. It made you chortle, you said, “No. My grandmother died years ago, I’m an only child, and my parents didn’t last.” It wasn’t a funny thing, you knew that but it made you laugh anyway. Laugh at how pathetic you were.

He looked at you, on your bed at your home that he had kindly helped you in after calling your doctor from before. Saying it was that the disease was starting to become severe, causing your limbs, your legs, your arms, to lose its sensation. Slowly, you’ll become more agitated, and it’ll be harder for you to talk, or even move. Only your co-worker, and your boss knew for the time-being.

“You don’t have to help me. I know you’re busy.” You said, though weak, “I’ll only weigh you down.”

Keiji sighed, he knew that you worry too much about other people, he knew that you got lost enough to stop thinking about yourself. And it was sad, he empathized with you in the way that you were both overthinkers, though he’d understood for a while that you were more hasty with decision-making.

“No.” He said, simple.

You looked down at the blanket that covered your bottom half, your top half facing the big, musty, old window next to your bed. Facing away from Akaashi.

“Why?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, save for the usual noise from the surrounding roads. He looked up, before he looked back at your weak figure. “It’s just you—you’re all alone.” Walking around to the other side so he can face you. About to utter a tad more to his sentence, he stopped when he saw your eyes blown wide, a bit red at the bottom, a hard attempt to stop tears from falling. He didn’t miss a beat after, quickly crouching, and allowing your head to rest on his chest.

“So I thought you could use some company.”

You appreciated your co-worker, now close friend’s generous help. It’s been a few weeks, and you’ve been spending it cooped up in the hospital. He had also forced you to finally admit yourself so you can get immediate assistance in the case that something similar were to happen again. A similar event where he was forced to carry you to your car, and drive you home.

The cords stuck to your skin to hydrate you was a bother, but it was manageable. Here were your last few months alive. You still had no idea why you couldn’t just leave. You had no specific goal, you were bound to hit rock-bottom, and the least you can get is a few more months, maybe years of living if you get the surgery. There was no point, nothing to live for. You could work on your career, but what can you really do with legs that can barely stand, and… hands that can’t even pick up a pen.

The latter was the one that you cried to every night if you had tears to spare. The latter was the one where you try to continuously hit your head in hopes it can keep writing. It was such a simple task, why couldn’t it do its job? When Akaashi came to visit one afternoon, he had to rush and grab the sharp pen you had in your barely moving left hand, attempting to dig it in the skin of the right. Just to feel if it was still alive.

Then it was requested to have no pens, or sharp objects left near you without supervision. You’d call your friends, if by friends, you mean other than occasional visits from your co-workers that didn’t know much about your personal life; but still had the courtesy of visiting you nonetheless after hearing news from the boss, you’d consent to it since you were leaving the field. But he hasn’t fired you yet, apparently.

Sometimes it shifts, when your arms refuse to work, your legs will move for a bit, vice versa. A frown forms on your face when it happens to be both. Why couldn’t this just be quicker? You ponder, and hear the door open. Expecting the only person who visits you so frequently.

“Keij—” You stopped. He stopped. “What are you doing here?”

“Hm? So I can’t visit ya now?” Oh, his familiar tone.

“How did you even know I was here?” You said, a bit agitated.

“Asked one of yer co-workers.” He shrugged.

“...You visited my workplace? And they told you immediately?” You raised your brow, bringing your body up to sit on the bed instead. It was a feat on its own, but he’d seen your struggle, he was about to reach and help actually.

“Yeah, I had deliveries to make.” He said, leaning back. “And I may have made them slip it after overhearin’ yer name. Couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You’re ridiculous, ‘Samu.” You smiled, for the first time in a while. He could tell that it wasn’t a normal occurrence in a while, the thought of at least alleviating your stress for a bit eased a tide inside Osamu.

Osamu took his hat off, putting it on the table next to your bed. He was humoring you, because he didn’t want you to see the first look on his face when he confirmed that it really was you who's been confined here. Not any other person with the same name. He sat on the sofa beside you, next to the window. You’d lie if your heart didn’t clench at the sight of him, If you’d look inside, you’ll spot the tinge of pain; but outside, all Osamu could see was that you still adored him. By that, he meant his brother. He knew he might trigger you due to him being the twin of what was your love. Still is, he was sure.

Clearing his throat, your trance broke. “Y/N.”

“Hm.” You lay your back flat on the metal headboard covered in the white pillows of your white bed, in your white room.

“Why are you here?” It was true that Osamu had heard you were confined in the hospital while he was making deliveries to your place coincidentally, so he couldn’t help but perk his ears. Despite your break-up, he was still your childhood friend, and although he heard of the story of how it ended from none other than his brother’s dull voice on the phone that night he was closing up Onigiri Miya; he knew there must’ve been something that caused you to do that other than Atsumu himself. He’d investigate, and help rekindle the lifelong relationship you both shared if he wasn’t so busy himself. And if his brother hadn’t immediately used a rebound to inflict immediate pain upon you, maybe he’d have considered it.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

Osamu sighs, “You do. Tell me,” he looks at you with sincerity, placing his coarse palm from the work he’s been juggling in, on top of your pale, lifeless hands. Almost wincing at the cold temperature they held, “Please.”

You sucked in a breath, he placed his, what you assume to be, warm hand on top of yours. But you felt nothing. So you let it out, “I have Friedreich’s Ataxia. Apparently it’s genetic, uh, doesn’t allow me to use these flimsy things.” You glanced at your legs, slightly waving them along with your hands, “I can’t even feel the warmth of your hand right now. I mean, that is, if you’re warm. It’s always cold here. The doctors said they’d try to give me therapy and train me to walk again, or actually use my hands.” You chuckle.

“And something about heart surgery, though that won’t really extend my life for long.” You finish, opting to insert a joke that you thought was bright until you let it out, “Better than turning out blind though! Haha… Kidding, it may happen to me too, which sucks, by the way.”

Your rambling was cut off when you were met with an intense stare from Osamu. “And you’ve found out of this, when?”

“...Nearly 2 months.. Ago?” You gulped the lump that was stuck in your throat.

Osamu rested his elbows on his knees, thinking. “So that was the reason?”

You retained silence.

He sighs. “I knew it would be a valid reason, but I really wasn’t hoping it would be this.” His face hidden in his big hands, frustration was visible. But it was the breathy question of, “Why are the gods this cruel?” To which your eyes soften, albeit a little bit.

“Samu, can I ask a favor?”

He looks at you, face out of his palms. “Sure.”

“Can you… Turn the TV on?” He raised a brow at first before standing up and getting the remote by the stand, switching it on, immediately being greeted by the sports channel on Volleyball. Oh, they had a game today. He had nearly forgotten due to this new revelation from you. He looked at your face that was staring directly at the screen, then he saw the number thirteen, and his heart clenched tighter.

He placed the remote on the table beside your bed, and he took his black cap. He spun it on his finger for a bit, “I won’t tell ‘Sumu.”

You hummed again, before looking at him. “Thank you.” Then he smiles sweetly at you before turning around, his face immediately turning into a painful grimace. Because even he could feel the tragedy of this love.

Each day you were gone was a punch in the gut for Atsumu. His initial lack of reaction to his overreaction, trying to get back at you for leaving him. It was wrong. All he ever wanted was to call you, tell you to come back, have you in his arms, the lot. He’d miss the smell of your hair when he hugs you tight, or the clean apartment whenever he comes home to you beaming, cooking dinner; like his precious wife-to-be. Though he hadn’t proposed, the ring he bought for you started collecting dust in his drawer.

The girl he was with didn’t really last long, she broke it off after getting annoyed by him calling your name instead of hers on any normal occasion on impulse. His head in his hands, bed half-empty. His games gave him a little bit of adrenaline, but every time he sees the empty spot saved for you in his jersey, the adrenaline will scafe off, bit by bit. It’d be a lie if he said that he didn’t at least try to call your number in the past two months, he had actually, for a couple of times. But your number was unreachable, and your social media was non-existent.

It was like you weren’t real. Like a ghost. Sand that was slipping far from his fingers, his hold. His hold loosened in a moment of weakness.

To say his biggest regret was the night you left was a lie, because the biggest regret he ever made was never immediately trying to get you back. He was dazed off in the locker rooms after one of their games, his water bottle in hand. Hinata waved in front of him, Bokuto right next; to which his daze cut off.

“You okay, Tsum?”

He smiled, nodding. But his teammates knew it wasn’t the same for a while now. He was more rigid and tired in his movements. Probably not the kind of exhaustion that could be solved by sleep.

“Yeah, no worries.” Even Sakusa worriedly glances once in a while, he still cares, though not openly shown. Atsumu slung his gym bag over his shoulders after changing, he decided to visit his brother in his shop for now. He was walking out to drive when he accidentally bumped into someone, trapped in his little thoughts about you again.

“Oh—Sorry, didn’t see ya there.” Atsumu apologized, knowing it was his fault.

“It’s okay, Miya-san.” It took a few moments before Atsumu registered who this was.

“Akaashi? Keiji? Bokuto talks about ya all the time! Nice to meet ya.” He smiled, putting his hand out for him to shake. To which the latter man does. Oh, Akaashi recognizes him, not just from being his friend’s teammate; but from being your ex. He concluded in his thoughts by the few seconds they shook hands that he wished for him to not find out about you any longer. Thinking about the pain it would cause for both of you, especially him. They nodded at each other before bidding goodbyes and heading off to their own destinations.

Atsumu drove past the busy streets of the city, traffic holding him back a little bit. He was stopped a little bit in front of the city hospital. He didn’t know why, but his gaze lingered on the building a little longer than he’d like to admit. His left hand clutching the wheel, the other on the stick; Why does it feel like… He shakes his head to rid himself of ridiculous thoughts, seeing as the cars were finally moving, he did too.

Just as his foot pressed on the accelerator, his eyes landed on you. His eyes were the widest it had been, and this was the day he felt the most emotions since the day you left him.

“Y/N?” He asks, though his window was turned up and he was inside his car. He must be going crazy. Were you on a wheelchair? Was it really you? Or were his eyes playing tricks on him again, just like it had been every time he visited places he used to go with you. Or when he needed anything in particular, his first call in the apartment would be your name, expecting an answer back like you always had been.

He rolls his window down, and at that moment he swears your eyes met before you quickly changed vision. He’d run out of his car to chase you right now, if it weren’t for the honking behind him. Fuck.

He drives forward, and goes around to park for the hospital real quickly. Just to see if he wasn’t going insane by the amount of times he’d imagined seeing you again. He looks around the area, arriving at the greener part of the hospital, probably one of the places where they take some patients out for walks. Atsumu’s heart beats faster when he sees the same beautifully familiar hair, and angelic face he’s fallen in love with. He misses a beat, he stops, just plainly admiring; he notices your weaker stature, and your crest-fallen face. Paler skin, and limp limbs. And for that mistake, he fails to notice you were being guided in already.

He panics. About to bolt when he suddenly trips over his feet, and gets a bloody knee as the door closes. That doesn’t stop Atsumu, no, he’s dealt with much worse; one of which was the pain of not having you in his life. So he runs, and he sees the wheelchair you resided in enter the elevator; and once again, he swears, he swears, that his breath catches in his throat as he sees your eyes, and you see his.

And maybe he didn’t know, and maybe you didn’t know, but for the first time in months, you both saw colors.

“She was there, ‘Samu, I was sure of it!” Atsumu yells even in the midday of the bustling Onigiri Miya.

“Yer delusional as always, ‘Sumu. Ya should get yer head checked.” Osamu says from the kitchen in the back, there was faint squealing from the men and women alike in the restaurant. Feeling blessed for being able to witness the Miya twins in one sitting. And bantering, no less; even if it was over a girl.

“I can’t have mistaken it. I know when I see ma’ girl, Samu. Ya know it.” Atsumu groans, burying his head in his arms on the counter. “But when I asked the nurses, none of ‘em are giving me details. They say there ain’t Y/N L/N on their recent list of confined patients.”

Osamu was lucky he was working the kitchen right now, because he was low-key nervous of what to say, to not compromise you. How was his brother so close to it anyway? He wants to drive him away. He thinks he can agree with your rationale, but when he thinks of his brother’s side, wouldn’t it be more painful to just find out that you were just… Gone? His mind was splitting in half because of this dreaded situation, until Atsumu called him out again.

“Hey, ya scrub! Are ya even listening to me?” Atsumu lightheartedly yelled as Osamu’s heart softened. If anything, he didn’t want to see his brother bear the pain of losing you, permanently.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut yer trap. I have a business running here. Yer scaring off the customers.” Osamu says, getting out of the kitchen, arms crossed with a scowl.

“Help me, Samu. I just… Can’t bear to lose her.” Atsumu finally says, with a lace of evident longing. Osamu’s face contorts into a myriad of reactions that he couldn’t pick from. Before he settled with a sigh, and a lean on his forearms to poke his brother roughly on the forehead. A grunt of pain from the blonde.

“The only one who can help ya is yerself. If ya want to go find her, go ahead. Whatever your choice will be, don’t let it end with regret.” Was all he said before he went away to tend to the girls who were about to order, red-faced, and all.

Atsumu didn’t understand it a bit. How was that supposed to help him? He thinks. His fist digging into his cheek, face contorted into heavy thinking. It went on like that. He had no other clue, but he kept visiting the hospital, kept driving through, hoping he could catch a glimpse of you; to prove to himself that you were real. But for the first few days, he had no sign of you whatsoever. He kept bugging the nurses, or at least asking them everyday and ended up getting rejected again, and again, and again.

He sat in his car parked in the hospital on his free-day. As if a lightbulb turned on, he felt stupid for not visiting your workplace. They should at least know something about you, right? You were pretty well-known, and idolized in the industry. So he drove there, he may or may not have sped up a little more than he should but all in good purpose. He arrived there, and immediately knew where to park, the signature spot for everytime he comes to drive you home. Recently hearing that you bought a car when you broke up with him, made him sink a little bit. But he saw the spot was taken, eyebrows furrowing for a little before parking to the spot next to it.

When he got out, he noticed that the car that took your spot had dusting on it. As if it hadn’t been let out in a while. Or used. Quickly putting two-and-two together, maybe this was your car? The one you had bought? And if it hadn’t been used in a while… Then that supports his thoughts about you being in the hospital. His face shifted into worry. That must mean.. Whatever you had been sick of, was serious if you haven’t been using your car as often, considering your job was hectic.

He shook the thoughts off for a while, determined to find more clues about you instead. But he thinks the search suddenly became too easy when he suddenly heard a few gossiping women.

“Oh, poor Ms. L/N… She’s been hospitalized for a month now.”

“Really? Have you heard of any reason why?”

“I’m still unsure but I heard it’s chronic, and she doesn’t really have long.”

He sucks in a harsh breath. What? His ears perk up more to their conversation. He hides behind a wall, he assumes that they’re probably heading for their lunch break as a group right now.

Then a snicker, “I know this is kind of mean, but who’ll be replacing her now? Surely her position is up for debate.”

Atsumu’s face darkens at this. Stepping out of the wall as his big frame became all the more intimidating, “I mean, she’ll be biting the dust sooner or—”

“Shut your damn mouth, filthy whore.” Atsumu says with a sneer. Chin up, looking down. “Continue that sentence and I’ll see who bites the fuckin’ dust first.” A whimper, “It’s him again!” Shuffled feet, then they’re gone and out of his sights.

It takes a sigh, and a slump in his posture before everything sinks in. What does this mean? Is it.. True?

He shook his head, sure, you weren’t looking so good when he last saw you. You looked especially sick. But it was like nobody, not even the universe, had wanted him to see you. He thought back to the gossiping workers earlier. It’s him again? Atsumu hasn’t visited in a while, and he doesn’t think that he’s seen them… Oh.

Fuck, Osamu.

He could pass off as a professional racer with the speed he was driving at, only lucky enough to not have any cops tailing him. He was breathing heavily, his brother knew about you and didn’t tell him anything apart from that vague statement a few days ago? He couldn’t help the light betrayal he felt but in all honesty, he’d much rather force his brother to take him to you now. So when he arrived in Onigiri Miya, he didn’t waste a second dragging his brother out who was grumbling incessantly.

“The fuck ‘Sumu, I have a business to run!”

“No you, The fuck ‘Samu. You knew where Y/N was? Take me to her, now.” Atsumu said, foot on the ground, he won’t let anything come between his decisions now. Taking the bag of Onigiri from Osamu’s hand, “I’ll take this too. I’ll pay for it, I need to give a treat at least but we’re kind of in a hurry.” Osamu sighed, finally getting the gist of the situation. Deciding to spare his brother, he’d have to apologize to you later for spilling the beans. But he thinks he needs to let his brother let his feelings out as well.

“Okay.”

“No, you don’t have any other cho—Okay. Okay, get in the car.”

Osamu briefly yells at the part-timer he recently hired, telling them to take over for a while. To which they nodded eagerly, and so, the brothers left. Save for the quiet ride for the first few minutes. “...How—” Atsumu clears his throat, “How is she?”

A quiet beat, Osamu thinks of his answer. He settles for a passive one, “Okay.”

“Hn.” Atsumu grunts.

Osamu leans back on the passenger seat, “Just… Just make sure you don’t regret any of this.”

Atsumu raises a thick brow at this, “Why would I?”

“I think you already know why.”

He sucks in a harsh breath at this, and the silence remains. Atsumu reaches the hospital, parks the car, and Osamu leads the way to your room. Every step Atsumu took felt like the ground was shaking and trying to eat him whole. He wanted to see your pretty face again, your smile that could make his day whole and puff his chest out, or your hands that would comb through his hair and ask how it’s so soft when he bleaches it regularly.

So why was he seeing your writhing body under nurses yelling your name this time. Osamu breathes in, slowly understanding the situation as he quickly glances at his brother who was frozen. Both of them kept walking, until they were in front of what was supposed to be your room. Door open, and multiple people, trying to keep you alive. He hears that the doctor is coming, that you should wait, that you’ll get better in no time, at this point Atsumu didn’t know if the reassurances were for him instead.

When he sees your weak hand gripping the railing of your bed, he breaks. The bag of Onigiri long forgotten on the floor as he runs towards your bed.

“Darling, hey, hey, Angel, you—Yer okay, yeah? You’ll be fine, please be okay.” Atsumu says with shaky hands gripping yours, it was intensely cold, as if you weren’t even alive in the first place. He wishes so much that he was the one to give you warmth. “Look at me, you’ll be okay.”

And for the second time in a while, your eyes meet his, your weak, fragile, pretty little eyes; finally meeting him. The nurses noticed you calming down more, but your state wasn’t getting any better. They were initially going to let Atsumu out, but noticing the intimate relationship you two seemed to have displayed, they decided against it. More focused on bringing you back to life.

You had the heart surgery. You took the leap to extend your life, ever since you caught a glimpse of him a few days back; you just knew that the biggest regret you’d ever have is to never try. You told Akaashi when he visited that you were deciding on it, and he was supportive. He was really supportive. But you weren’t blind that it was a risk that may also shorten your life instead. Though wasn’t that what you were asking for, this whole time?

So maybe the time you got out of the surgery unscathed was the calm before the storm, it was the calm before this. But you were glad that even through your hazy vision, it was him that showed. It was Atsumu that kept telling you to look into his pretty eyes, and tell you that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu thinks that even in this situation, you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. So when the most beautiful thing slipped from his grasp, with no chance of clutching it back; his heart is torn, and burnt into crisps, non-existent flakes as his mind replays every memory he’s ever had with you, and how he was standing and watching warm, sunny spring turn into the ruthless, cold winter.

Osamu watched his brother break down in front of your bed, his own tears mixing in the lot, his cap covering most of his face. Another familiar figure that frequented visits with you, a solemn expression on his usual calm face. Heavy feeling on his chest, Akaashi approached the man who lay on his knees in front of your bed while the nurses that were scrambling to keep your life had promptly announced the date and time of your death.

Akaashi handed the box in his hand towards Atsumu who was kneeling with all his might, head on the ground, continuously asking for forgiveness from you, continuously asking for more time, just a little more. He hates this, he hates it. Because, when it sank in, you were gone.

The scene of your death. ⁆ To Visualize :) But instead of it being Kousei playing the piano, it's Atsumu when he plays volleyball, but when someone comes up to him, tapping on his back with a bright smile for an interview after the game; it's not you.

[buglife]

Shh I got inspired by those doodles I did of Monomon and sick bby Quirrel so I wrote a ficlet.

----

It had been a few months since Monomon found a tiny pip rolling around the trash in the City of Tears. She thought at first that it was some sort of ball that some child had lost. Then it sneezed, which scared the hell out of her. She had looked closer and she was surprised to see a nearly transparent pip crawling around the garbage. The poor thing was dented up and was attempting to eat a discarded cloak. When he saw her, he hissed and curled up into a ball, thinking that if he couldn’t see her, than she couldn’t see him. She had picked him up, this little shivering ball of tenacity, and took him with her.

One thing lead to another and she had found herself as an adoptive mother to a baby isopod. The doctor she took him too told her that he shouldn’t even be out of the pouch, let alone being all by himself. Either he was abandoned or something unfortunate happened to his mother, and having the guard investigate gave her no answers. She decided that it was probably going to be a mystery forever, and decided to focus her energy on raising her newly acquired son.

She had named him Quirrel, after an old philosopher who often wrote about the beauty of the world. She somehow knew he’d be able to see the world for the beautiful thing as it is and not be focused on the doom and gloom of it all. She was a scientist, so of course she could find beauty in even the smallest micro-organism and all the way to the desolate wastes. Something told her he’d see it too.

Her high hopes proved to be true, as he turned out to be a rather clever little pip. He was still far too young for speech, or even to be roaming about by himself, so she decided to conduct a little experiment. Sign language wasn’t uncommon in Hallownest, but most non-hindered bugs tended to learn it after they have mastered speech and not before. What if she taught Quirrel, a little pip, some sign language now?

Her experiment bore fruit, and he learned some signs quickly. It was only a few words now that were simple to sign. He was still a baby and lacked the fine motor control for the more complex signs, but he could at least tell her when he was hungry or if he wanted something. She imagined that this experiment could do a lot of good in the end.

What concerned her however, was the lack of actual noise he made.

Quirrel was an incredibly quiet baby at he beginning. He simply refused to make much noise at all, and when he did, he flinched as though expecting to be punished for it. It had taken weeks of positive reinforcement before he started making the noises a little pip was expected to be making. It was very endearing to see him babbling and having her students babble back at him. His tiny eyes would light up and he’d wiggle in excitement before continuing the ‘conversation’. Even with all the encouragements from both her and her students, he still preferred to be quiet, napping through most of the day whilst in her pip pocket. That was normal for an isopod this young, but it was still concerning that he felt that he had to stay quiet.

That changed early one morning when he started to audibly fuss. Usually he’d just try to escape when bored, writhing about and trying to climb out of the pocket. But today, at the most ungodly early hour, he was making noises, squeaking and hissing in what seemed to be discomfort. Monomon had at first though he was hungry, but he outright refused his usual leaf paste. She tried tiktik bits, sliced fruit, and even a cookie, but he refused it all and grew increasingly more frustrated with each rejected food item.

She had tried asking him to tell her what was wrong through sign language, but he was either unwilling or unable to bother with it.

Finally he had enough, and began to wail, loudly. She had never heard him make a noise that loud before and it startled her enough to spill the juice she was trying to tempt him with all over herself. He only stopped loud enough to take a breath before belting out another heaving cry, little eyes overflowing with tears as he made his discomfort known.

“Shhhh….shhhh...it’s okay, my little one.” She attempted to try and comfort him, but he just wailed louder.

Concerned, she picked him up and tucked him under her chin, trying to soothe the sobbing pillbug, when she noticed what could be causing all this pain. His forehead was burning hot, and he was faintly shivering as he bawled into her veil. It wasn’t hard to figure out that her pip was ill and she plucked him out from her embrace to take a better look at him.

There were bags under his eyes and his face was tinged blue with heat. He had his mandibles open wide enough when crying that she can see some swelling in the back of his throat. She gently palpitated his belly and could feel the organs within twist and with every movement he cried harder. So, he was nauseous, which made sense on why he would refuse a cookie. Fever, chills, sore throat, most likely he picked something up from one of the students. She mentally kicked herself, she should have made her students wash up before picking him up as they liked to do. She should have not allowed them to give him little smooches and hugs. She should have not brought him with her at all when among the masses of students and archivists that swarmed about her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him all alone, not after what he’d been through.

The fact of the matter is that no amount of hindsight was going to change the fact that Quirrel caught something and was currently not having a very good time about it. His wails were starting to sound raspy and wet, no doubt that his sinuses were starting to be affected too. The sheer amount of screaming wasn’t helping matters and her thoughts raced on what she should do.

“Modern Manca Medicine, Chapter Seven, pages nine through ten,” She recited out loud as she recalled one of the many books she absorbed after taking Quirrel in, “Common treatment options for sickly manca and juvenile pillbugs include swaddling and standard fever reduction tactics for most invertebrates. Hrm... Grubs and You: A New Mother’s Guide, Chapter Nine, page twelve. When a child refuses to eat, honey is a suitable way to provide needed nutrition and slip in medication without upsetting the stomach. Hrm... that would work, wouldn’t it?”

Quirrel continued his crying, rapidly losing his voice, and she brushed a kiss on the top of his head to comfort him. His antenna twitched and his sobbing died down just a teensy bit, but it was enough for her to notice. He must have smelled her and realized she was going to help him, his eyes were too full of tears to be much use to him at the moment. She grabbed a spare blanket and wrapped him up tightly to deal with the shivers. He instantly stopped wriggling so hard and she managed to slip him back into the pip pocket without much incident.

Next, a cool cloth was needed. She needed to bring down his fever so he could rest. That wasn’t too hard to find. She ended up tying the wet cloth on his head like you would a kerchief, pinning down his antenna so they can cool down as well. She was quite happy to find that after she did that, he had stopped his wailing. He was still making noises of discomfort, squeaking and hiccupping, but he wasn’t outright screaming anymore. Her auditory organs was most happy with that turn of events for sure.

“Herbal Remedies for the Modern Bug, Chapter two, pages one through twenty.” She floated quickly to her herb cabinet, selecting dried bundles here and there. Lemon balm for fever, mint and ginger for his stomach, marshmallow root for his throat, maybe licorice root too? Lavender and Chamomile to help him sleep so he can focus on getting better, yes, that should do it. She mentally ran through the list, using a free set of tentacles to rock Quirrel gently. For now he seemed content to stay in his pocket, squeaking here and there as he braved through his illness. Poor little pip...she resolved to give him extra cookies once he felt well enough to eat them.

She put a kettle to boil and threw her selected herbs inside to seep and condense. She would have used her alchemical equipment to do this faster, but she didn’t feel like taking him downstairs where there would be students and workers showing up. When Quirrel started fussing again, she replaced his now warm cloth with a freshly cooled one, and he quieted down again.

Finally, the kettle had boiled enough and she strained the liquid into a bowl. Next, she took out a jar of honey and began the delicate procedure of making medicine that won’t be instantly spat out by a fussy grub. She calculated that a 2:1 ratio should work the best as he would be less likely to spit up something that tasted relatively good. Eventually, she mixed up a small cup full of her makeshift medicine and retrieved a clean eyedropper. Calculating body weight, she drew up half a measure, and with that finished she went to attempt to give it to Quirrel.

He, of course, put up a fuss, and began screaming again. She understood why, he wasn’t feeling well and his belly was hurting. The last thing he would want right now was something to go down into said hurting belly and she was not surprised when he tried to bite her a few times. Unfortunately for him, Isopods are not known for being able to do much more than nibble. Using that to her advantage, she let him latch on to the end of one of her tentacles, letting him get nice and occupied, and then shoved the end of the eyedropper into the corner of his mouth. The medicine was squirted down his throat before he could do anything to stop it and for that he bit her harder. He even hissed a little and it would be adorable if he wasn’t feeling so poorly.

He let go to scream again, but then stopped and stuck out his tongue. He was obviously tasting the honey now, and he loved honey. Monomon sighed in relief, at least next time she gave him a dose she wouldn’t get bit for her troubles. He opened his mouth a couple times and blinked, looking up at her face. He lifted up his hands and wiggled them.

“Abah?” He sniffled, trying to clear his throat and sinus.

“Hrm, what do you want, my little scholar?” She was pleased to not longer see him screaming. “Use your hand words.”

He made two fists and bumped them together. <”more,”> he signed.

“Of course, you can have more honey. I think you deserve it, after putting up with all that.”

He seemed happy with the idea, and she was able to give him another teaspoon of honey before he signed ‘done’ at her. His little belly could only take so much now and she took the time to wipe his face clean. He fussed at the cleaning, but yawned once she finished. Clearly the medicine was starting to work, his breathing was better and feeling his gut showed that it was settling down. She gave him a nuzzle and a kiss and tucked him back into his pip pocket. He was asleep nearly instantly and she gently strapped the pocket to herself once more.

Once he was secure she floated downstairs and was once again, swept up into the chaos of the Archives. Someone had accidentally released the charged lumaflies and they were setting books on fire.

Thankfully, Quirrel slept through the whole thing.

[ueko]

--- translation

Is the sort of mental diarrhea that get's blasted on the remaining radio stations that do NOT EVER express an opinion besides the "facts" provided by the "official" channels "this happen and will keep on happening because of The Sanctions" ; Meanwhile I still remember the mess that was CADIVI (2003-2014) and how it was The way to finance our education (university and such) outside of Venezuela, it was extremely vital losing pretty much meant the end of that education or how my grandma and the neighborhood elderly subscribed to all the Missions (these were programs funded by the government to give people of certain demographics free access to education plus if you were subscribed and finished the program you would receive free money as well) to this day my grandma and the grands form her neighborhood remind illiterate, even though they all got the money and their certificates of completion. My great-grand uncle has worked for the mayor and local government since his youth until his retirement , his pension is 130 bs (3$ in today's exchange - oh boi don't even get me started on the mess of the exchange rates and where the flop are all these dollars coming from .aaaah so much bullshit the way the baking system is used to laundry so much money holy shit) a MONTH , he has being ill and ended up in hospital (he is in his early 80s a lot of his body is failing due to ageing) the doctors told him there is no much that we can do is better if he goes home and rest up since they do not have the resources because of the sanction, cool cool. Then they told his daughter and my dad that it would cost about 1500$ for treatment (this is no counting the medication, just their labor and staying in the public hospital care where he has priority because of his work with in the mayor office) and now he is home and no one said anything in fear that if he knows the truth he will refuse to eat in his depression.

The ONLY blood bank in town is run by the government as well is of course not doing well because of The Sanctions, fine. So EVERYONE in town donates blood and resources. Since around February they began charging money saying that they HAVE to because The Sanctions have force their hand, but this is very much illegal. If you decide you will tell authorities about this issue well get fucked, this is an open secret and if you think yourself a hero for snitching at best you will be banned and blacklisted from ever receiving blood from this bank (there is no other one in town) and at worse get send to jail without any sort of trail for Conspiracy and Inciting Hate , is a Hate Crime here to denounce injustice. I know this because my aunt had to get a hysterectomy and it was truly a horrifying experience and it cost them their life savings, selling their one car and the family coming together to help. My aunt is a middle school teacher in a public school , register to receive benefits from the government and she had to pay out of pocket for EVERYTHING.

I have to say that my family and I are the fortunate , we manage. There is so much people in way worse positions/circumstances and that's heart breaking.

saying that maduro is responsible for 8 million people leaving Venezuela is like watching a person's house be set on fire and then laughing at them because their wife left the family home

[gaemkyuu]

Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy

Warnings: none! A/N: This is my valentine’s day entry for @cherrymaybank ! Back to back posts about Charlie, Riley and little Emerson! We do talk about the potential to having another one in the family, but I’m not sure if we like the trio as it is... do you guys want to see Dad!Charlie with a new born and an 8 year old daughter? Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy

Riley emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet, Charlie rushing into their ensuite to help hold her hair back. He soothed her back and got her a glass of water from the sink. They had gone to the clinic yesterday to confirm whether or not she was pregnant, since she had been nauseous and throwing up a lot lately. The drug store pregnancy tests were negative, but then again the same thing happened when Riley was pregnant with Emerson. She was normally irregular and active, but grew up with the doctors always saying she would have fertility problems. Emerson came to her as a shock.

“Mommy?” they heard their little girl call out from the hallway, and Charlie got up to intervene before she saw her mother.

“Hey Princess, bad dream?” Charlie scooped Emerson up from the hallway, feeling her heaviness set in. Emerson was 7 and soon to be 8, but Charlie wouldn’t pass the opportunity to pick her up. He didn’t want her growing up too fast, although mentally that ship had sailed.

“No, I had a weird one” she hugged his back and laid her head on his shoulder. “Can we have a midnight snack Daddy?” that’s when Charlie noticed the clock in the hallway read 1:13AM. He contemplated it for a moment, thinking about how Riley wouldn’t approve, but she wasn’t there to stop him and she would appreciate him distracting Emerson.

“Sure, you get the cookies and milk. I’ll be down to help with plates and stuff.” he set her down and kissed her on the head. Emerson looked up inquisitively at him and then back at their open bedroom door. Charlie noticed, and turned her around, gently pushing her towards the kitchen. “Mommy’s fine, just a tiny upset stomach. I’m gonna go make sure she’s good, so don’t eat all the cookies without me” 

This made the little girl giggle as she made her way to the kitchen. Charlie went back to check on Riley, who had her back to the wall adjacent to the toilet. She looked better, less pale, but still exhausted. “You want me to help you up?”

“No, I think I’ve got another round coming in a moment or two. Emerson okay?” Charlie nodded, taking the glass from her hand and refilling it. “Let me guess. Another round of Gillespie’s Midnight Munchies?”

“What can I say? She’s super persuasive” He passed her the glass and she scoffed before taking another drink. “She’s got me wrapped around her fingers”

“Well then don’t let me stop you! You’re princess awaits!” She made a flamboyant gesture of hands referencing her daughter, grateful for her acceptance of Charlie in her life. Riley had to admit that it was helpful to have Charlie around! 

Since the wedding, Riley had made the decision to homeschool Emerson. It meant that she could play with kids in the neighbourhood, but do schoolwork at her pace. Riley was able to work a lot more from home and with Charlie’s acting hours, it meant that he could be home a lot more too. She was often in charge of setting up Emerson’s curriculum, but it helped to have Charlie around. She knew Emerson was learning because she would hear her daughter teaching Charlie the concepts that she went through that day when he would get her ready for bed. Emerson often expressed that she liked doing this more than what they had been doing before. Occasionally, she would go to a daycare program when both of them were busy, but Charlie often brought her to set when he could.

Riley smiles fondly the first time Charlie brought her to set on a project he was working on. She snapped a picture as they walked through the door, Emerson wearing a pretty dress, Charlie in his comfy clothes and a pink backpack that was way too small hung over his shoulder. They walked hand in hand to the car and waved goodbye to her. The time that the two spent together did include a lot of shenanigans and sometimes being outnumbered or out voted, but Charlie never let it get out of hand.

***

Emerson’s lip quivered as her mother shook her head no. She wanted ice cream, but Riley had refused because of the cotton candy she ate earlier. Emerson didn’t take a nap and woke up early, and more sugar would mean a bigger problem later that day. Not wanting to take no for an answer, Emerson asked Charlie, who also agreed that she should forego the ice cream. 

That was the straw that broke Emerson’s back.

Riley had never seen Emerson tantrum so bad before, especially since her toddler was known to be very mature. She was used to her daughter clamming up and refusing to talk to her until she was ready, but that day was a completely different experience. Here she was screaming and crying, insisting she deserved ice cream.

Charlie sensed Riley’s flusteredness and tried to calm Emerson down. When she screamed and cried louder, she flailed her arms about, hitting Riley and Charlie. That’s when his usual sparkle and mischief that was normally present in his eyes disappeared.

“Emerson Gianna Gillespie. That’s enough.” Emerson was in shock at the tone of his voice. He didn’t yell, but he wasn’t quiet either. She could see that his eyes meant business, and he had never used her real name. She sunk to the ground in a last attempt at defiance. “Please stand up, or we are going home.” Emerson refused to stand. Charlie motioned for Riley to pack up their stuff quickly, as he picked up Emerson and brought her to the car. He didn’t say a single word, even as Emerson started to cry softly on their way to the car. She had started to realize the errors of her actions and felt awful.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bad girl” she sniffed as Charlie buckled her into her booster seat. “Can we still get McDonalds?” she wiped away a few more tears as Riley got into the passenger side. Before she could reply, Charlie quickly answered the little girl.

“We are going home. We will talk about this when we get home” and with that he shut the door, and they drove home in silence. Emerson walked over to her time out corner in the house, a place where she rarely sat, but knew it was meant for her to reflect upon her actions. Emerson didn’t know that Charlie felt awful about being stone cold to her and was upstairs whisper venting to Riley, who patiently sat and listened. 

They made up over dinner that night and this was the first time that Emerson saw Charlie acting like a Daddy and not like a Charlie.

***

“Take all the time you need. I got Emmy” he kissed her head and went to join his little one at the kitchen island. As directed, the jar of cookies was on the counter, along with the jug of milk. She sat on the stood and swung her legs back and forth singing a song, waiting patiently for him. “Ready for some late night snicky snacks?”

“Mommy okay?” the little girl sat there waiting patiently but worrying about her mom. Charlie grabbed two dessert plates and two glasses for the milk and cookies. Charlie nodded and dished them up some cookies and poured the milk into the glasses, humming to himself. They clinked their glasses together and enjoyed their food in silence, only the sounds of the cookies crunching.

“Are you going to tell me about the weird dream you had?” he asked, a few crumbs spilling from his mouth. He wiped the corner of Emerson’s mouth with his thumb and took a sip of his milk.

“I had a dream that I had a baby brother” Charlie spat out his milk and choked, coughing at her comment. Emerson patted the man on the back, something she often saw adults do to other adults when they choked and something her parents did for her. “Isn’t that why mommy has an upset stomach?”

“Who told you that?” Charlie wiped his mouth and the counter of his mess, moving to dispose of the paper towel in the kitchen garbage. Emerson quietly munched on her cookie and took a drink of milk. “It was Uncle Owen wasn’t it?” she nodded, knowing that speaking with a full mouth was rude. Charlie made a mental note to chastise Owen later. Emerson was smart and perceptive but she was still a kid and who knows what the giant told her in his panic. Charlie gave her another cookie.

“Is this meant to keep me quiet? Uncle Owen did that last time. He said adults like to bribe children with things so they behave and don’t expose them. Didn’t anyone tell Uncle Owen that he’s not supposed to keep secrets or lie?” The little girl greatly accepted the cookie from Charlie and took a big bite, sipping on some more milk to help wash it down.

“No, it’s not a bribe. I’m giving you another cookie because you’re so tiny! I have to fatten you up if I’m going to bake you into a pie!” he joked as he tickled the girl. She laughed and dropped her cookie as Charlie attacked her sides and blew raspberries into her neck.

Even though Riley was 5”2 and her mother was short, Emerson seemed a little too much on the tiny side. She was still the height of your average six year old but she was thin and weighed very little despite the amount of food she ate. Her pediatricians worried that she wasn’t growing as healthily as the other children, but found no problems or illnesses within her. She was simply a late bloomer. It didn’t help that she was twice as smart as kids her age either, but Charlie made sure she knew that was something to be proud of. Both parents always told her that real friends would like her despite her differences and that being like the other kids is boring. 

“Seems like you two are doing fine without me!” the two froze in their act as they realized that Riley had walked into the kitchen. She smiled and grabbed the cookie off Charlie’s plate, sipping on his milk.

“Yup. Definitely pregnant. I guess I am getting a younger brother” Riley’s eyes were as wide as saucers and Charlie rolled his. She looked to Charlie for answers.

“Owen?”

“Owen.”

“Daddy? I think I’m ready to go back to bed” Emerson rubbed her eyes and hopped off the chair. Her mother smiled and gave her little girl a big hug, she couldn’t believe that Emerson would soon be 8.

“You and mommy go upstairs. I’ll clean up down here” Charlie gave both of his girls a kiss on the head before they retreated to Emerson’s bedroom. He began to pick up the plates and wipe the counter down, not bothering to wash the plates. He was supposed to be cooking breakfast for everyone in the morning, so he thought to wash their dishes then, but seeing as they were up so late, breakfast might be brunch. Just as he was putting away the milk and cookie jar, he heard soft footsteps rush into the kitchen. When he closed the door, he saw no one except a little red present box on the counter.

To Daddy

From Emmy

He smiled and carried the tiny box over to the bedroom. Riley was just tucking Emerson in, when he popped his head into the bedroom and shook the box. Emerson blushed and hid under the covers and Riley turned around seeing the box that Charlie shook.

“Is that where you went? I thought you were going pee!” her mother prodded, poking her daughter who was trying to hide. “Why are you hiding Emmy? There’s no need to be shy about it!”

“Did you know about this?” Riley shook her head no and peeled the blanket off her daughter. She hid her face in her hands, blushing a deep pink. “Emmy, come on, I wanna share this moment with you!” Charlie sat down at the foot of the bed and Riley sat beside her. Emerson lowered her hands from her face.

“Uncle Owen helped me with this when he babysat me last week” she smiled, avoiding eye contact. Charlie opened the box and instantly felt his heart grow big. Seeing his reaction, Riley peered into the box and understood the man’s reaction.

In the tiny red box lay a plastic guitar pick which had a picture from their wedding printed on it. It was a photo of the three of them, a stolen shot, between professional takes that encaptured their family’s dynamic. They were all smiling and laughing. It was Charlie’s favorite picture and it was his phone background. At the top of the pic was a tiny hole that connected it to a chain that he could wear around his neck.

“I haven’t been to daycare in a while, so I missed the Valentine’s day crafts. I’m going to a tea party with Aunty Savannah and mommy for Valentine’s day, but I didn’t have anything for you” Charlie opened his arms and beckoned for the little girl to crawl into his lap and hug him back. He rested his chin on her head and sniffed back the tears that had formed. “Did you read the back?” he pulled away and flipped the pick around.

Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy!

“Gosh Emmy, you are just so smart” he pulled the little girl in for another hug, a tear escaping his eye and he kissed her head again. “You didn’t have to do this Princess!”

“It’s my first Valentine’s day with a Daddy. Every year, the girls at the daycare got to have a Valentine’s day date with their Dads and would make them stuff at craft time. This is the first year I get to do it, so I wanted it to be special” she smiled up at him, happy that he liked the gift.

“I love it Emmy. I’ll never take it off” he placed it around his neck and fiddled with it again. Charlie really meant that he never wanted to take it off. Everything precious to him was represented on that pick. He made a mental note to thank Owen and probably not chastise him as bad as he wanted to before.

“Does that mean I get to spend Valentine’s day with the both of you?” Charlie and Riley shared a confused look, wondering where the question came from. Sensing their confusion, Emerson clarified her question. “Uncle Owen said that on Valentine’s day, you guys were going to play hide the zucchini, so he’d probably babysit me again. I thought it sounded like fun”

Cancel that. Charlie was definitely going to kill Owen.

[razzzar]

Here’s a lovely oc I’ve been working on!

So pretty much his powers allow him to only use clairvoyance and telekinesis on haunted objects but one day to tried to use them on the ocean and it destroyed his mind so he had to go with the psychonauts before his health could get even worse and he learned to be comfortable with his powers which can now only control water. Tangent time: so my version of the Galochio curse is not just the water wanting to kill are actually Galochio’s who are stuck haunting the individual Aquato’s until they finally drown. However, there’s only a limited number of Galochio spirits who haven’t moved on and all of them are already haunting someone so when a new Aquato is born a living Galochio will die at the same time and haunt them. So Tobias became a field agent and had no idea that is little sister had sadly passed while he was on missions. He had no clue about this until years later he was finally able to visit his mother, only to find her horribly ill. Suddenly being a psychonauts wasn’t about practising his psychic control, but now about getting help for the only person left in his family. But it even the greatest doctor couldn’t help her and she died. Tobias never got to be with her during her final moments and he is now filled with hate forthe psychonauts for keeping him in the dark about his families death, Zalto for inflicting this horrible curse, and the Aquato’s for being utterly unaware to the suffering they caused to his mother and sister.

Much more in depth version of his background below the cut, warning: it’s long, like really long. And touches on some topics that may upset some readers.

Despite being in a family of powerful psychics, Tobias couldn’t seem to use his psychic powers. They were there, he had the potential but he couldn’t use them in any normal way, it wasn’t until his mother brought home a haunted wood cutters axe that he realised his potential. She had gone to a nearby village and had bought one at good quality for an insanely cheap price because it was supposedly haunted, the rumours were that a crazed woodsman used it to kill people who wandered to close to his home. The axe was pretty heavy and both Tobias and his little sister Lavinia wanted to prove who was stronger, When Tobias grabbed the axe his vision began to swim and he could see everything that the.. axe could see? No, it wasn’t the axe. It was the spirits who possessed the axe he could see from. Moments after finally realising his special power he promptly collapsed.

Despite being in a family of powerful psychics, Tobias couldn’t seem to use his psychic powers. They were there, he had the potential but he couldn’t use them in any normal way, it wasn’t until his mother brought home a haunted wood cutters axe that he realised his potential. She had gone to a nearby village and had bought one at good quality for an insanely cheap price because it was supposedly haunted, the rumours were that a crazed woodsman used it to kill people who wandered to close to his home. The axe was pretty heavy and both Tobias and his little sister Lavinia wanted to prove who was stronger, When Tobias grabbed the axe his vision began to swim and he could see everything that the.. axe could see? No, it wasn’t the axe. It was the spirits who possessed the axe he could see from. Moments after finally realising his special power he promptly collapsed.

Tobias quickly became obsessed with using clairvoyance on any item that was even slightly rumoured to be haunted, which more than often gave him nasty headaches from trying to attune to ordinary items. He found he could use his clairvoyance on anything that was haunted: technology, nature, even full on houses! One day he tried it on a pond that a child had drowned in. What Tobias saw was breathtaking, he could see everything! He saw the little tadpoles darting through the mossy reeds, the little bugs paddling on the surface and everything in between. There was also this strange group of spirits barely there within the water...

If he could see so much beauty from a little pond what else could he see from say, a river? Or even the ocean? He told his mother about what he had experienced with the pond, and she was so proud of how far he had advanced, however, her loving smile faded when he brought up the foreign presence,she told him to stay away from this presence. However, all this did was strengthen his desire to discover what this was and how far his vision could go.

Over the course of several months he tried larger sources of water and discovered that he could telekinetikally move it with the spirit’s permission of course. He tried these powers on steams, rivers and lakes, sure they hurt to attune to, especially the village river where he could see from so many different spirits that it gave him a migraine but this was nothing some practise couldn’t fix. The strangest thing was the strange spirits who were too distant to attune to but were always there. All this practise eventually led up to the moment where he and Lavinia had borrowed some money for a bus to the beach, where Tobias would put his clairvoyance to the test with just how far his powers could go. For when he attuned to the seawater he was instantly bombarded with EVERYTHING all at once and it HURT!!! He didn’t know what was happening to him or how to make it stop! So he stood there, horrendous pain racking his body until he finally collapsed, his mind deathly silent.

He made it home safely and was extremely lucky to survive such an attack but his mind had shut down from the trauma and it was almost as if he was dead with a pulse. It took nearly a full year before he had recovered enough to be independent again, but he could never be the same. For starters he could no longer control his powers, he could no longer attune to haunted objects but stepping within 3 metres of any water would instantly activate his clairvoyance. The strange spirits within the liquid were now the only spirits he could attune with. And if he went even closer to the source the spirits could move the water on their own, with his telekinesis. Tobias began to avoid water like the plague, even refusing to drink it. His mother and sister became exponentially worried for him and his quickly deteriorating health. His mother got in contact with the psychonauts, the greatest and most ethical psychic researchers and employers to try to help her son find a way to get past his fatal fear of water. Seeing as Tobias wanted to get help and stop his family’s stress he agreed to go to the European psychonauts branch.

Over the years he learned to be more comfortable with his intrusive powers and relearning how to at least influence the water’s movement, practically building a bond with what he now knows as the unfortunate Galochio’s who drowned in the big top. He became comfortable enough to test himself in real world situations. The psychonauts were very supportive of him and his growth, always making sure that he was well both physically and mentally. He went on missions with other agents and generally had a good time them. Finally after a long and dangerous mission Tobias used his leave time to visit his family and fill them in on the incredible adventures he’d taken.

The cabin had hardly changed though it was quieter than it was before, then again, he’d been away for years and Lavinia could have gone out on this day. He entered to find his mother in bed, deathly pale but still alive, she reminded him of how he was before he’d joined the psychonauts. Tobias questioned her about what had happened while he was gone. He was told that Lavinia had died only a year after he had left and his mother had been ill for the past 8 months. Tobias truly wanted to help her, he truly did but she told him there was nothing he could do. He didn’t listen to her and after a heartfelt goodbye, returned to the psychonauts to demand the best aid for his mother. He received the news 4 weeks later that she had passed. Leaving Tobias as the last known Galochio. He spiralled into depression and lashed out at anyone who even looked at him the wrong way. A few days later he received his family’s scrapbook, inside were collections of fond memories and on the final page was a letter by his mother. It was a sort of goodbye letter, or at least the first paragraph was, the rest detailed the past of the Galochio clan that she avoided talking about: the Aquato’s and the curse that they unintentionally wrought on both clans.

He was able to have closure for his family at least. But his hatred was now split between Zalto and the Aquato’s, and he would never rest until he could take revenge on at least one of them, though he couldn’t just go hunting for them. He was still stuck with the psychonauts with no where to go. So he’d just have to be patient and hope that one of his personal targets would pop up on the psychonaut’s radar...

Until 4 years later when receives and urgent message from the American Psychonauts branch to fly over and help with the aftermath of Truman Zanotto’s kidnapping...

[emerald-echeveria-plant]

Bro I gotta stop making these ocs 💀

Name: Jeremiah Cassidy Shih

Name pronunciation: jeh-ruh-mai-uh Cas-si-di Sh-ih

Personality: non-talkative, hot-headed, secretive, hides his true emotions, and violent

Age: 15

Species: Human

Sexuality: Unknown

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Looks: brown hair, blue eyes, white skin, and freckles

Backstory: (Dis is loooooong) Before getting in his past, we first have to talk about his mother, Anne Larson or as her actual birth name Chenguang Shih. Chenguang was the daughter of the notoriously known unhinged pirate, Baozhai. Baozhai ended up having Chenguang completely by accident after she had a one night stand with one of her crewmates. She decided to keep the baby, wanting to start a long line of pirates like her. Baozhai had the baby girl just around when her torment was finally being taken seriously by the royals. Unfortunately, Baozhai ended up passing away on her boat when a cannon caused it to come crashing down. Luckily, Chenguang was safe as she had been taken by Baozhai's right hand man, Ironbeard with her. He did his best to care for the girl, holding up the legacy his captain would've wanted. Yet, he was a wanted criminal along with the other crewmates that survived the crash, so taking care of her was very difficult. But Ironbeard still pushed through.

Unfortunately, Ironbeard and the other were caught by a couple of guards and locked away. A judge sentenced them to be publicly executed by hanging the next. As for baby Chenguang, she was taken away and raised by the captain of the guards. Her full name being changed to Anne Larson just a few days later. When the day arrived for Ironbeard and the others be hung, the guards were surprise to see that they had escaped during the night. Ironbeard swore revenge for his captain and that he would one day return. As for the baby, he couldn't find her and gave up as the guards were on his tail. He regretted to not have fulfilled Baozhai's wish and those guards were going to pay for what they had done.

As for Anne, she was raised to never know of the events that took place. Her adoptive father, also known as Maxwell Larson, had told her of Baozhai and how she was a psychopathic murder that deserved what she got. So, Anne grew up hating Baozhai despite the fact she was actually hating her own biological mother. As she grew, Anne became educated and sophisticated. She quickly rose up to be one of the smartest students in her class. Getting all A's and being presented with awards for her achievements. Anne was asked to join a university of astronomy which she gladly accepted.

While she was attending, she ended up meeting a handsome young man by the name of Aaron Brown. Aaron was the typical bad boy that would rather get into trouble then be in class. He was charming, funny, and very attractive... Aaron easily charmed Anne which made her fall in love with him. Instead of focusing on her studies, she'd often daydream about him. Anne just couldn't get him out of her head. Eventually, Aaron asked her out and they went on a date. Which spiraled into several dates... Which turned into them dating each other. Anne would often ditch class just to be with him. This caused her to fail her class. Maxwell was angry at her for this. He demanded she'd retake the year and to leave Aaron. Anne was too far in love with him and didn't give into what he wanted.

Instead, Anne ended up dropping out of the university to further pursue her relationship with Aaron. They got married a few months afterwards and left their home planet. Anne decided to work as a weaver as Aaron became a marine. A year into their marriage, it all came crumbling down. Anne became severely depressed as she realized she gave up her dreams of becoming an astrologist. Aaron no longer found her attractive and began to pursuing other women behind her back. They argued a lot more than usual and it began to get physical. Finally the rose tinted glasses came off and they began to see how bad their relationship was. Anne wanted to save their marriage because she couldn't bare the thought being alone. Aaron still wanting the good things that came in a relationship while secretly having side pieces, decided to work with her on their marriage. The two came to a conclusion that having a child would be the best way to solve it.

Six months later, Jeremiah was born. Surprise, surprise, their relationship didn't get any better. Poor Jeremiah was now thrown into the picture of a broken marriage. Aaron became abusive towards Anne and didn't allow her to leave the house without his say. She'd get hurt if he didn't listen to what he said. Jeremiah wasn't safe from his abusive nature also. If the lad dared to bother him, he'd be met with a smack to the face. For five straight years had Anne and Jeremiah endured the abuse of Aaron. Anne finally decided to break from Aaron's abuse when something terrible happened to Jeremiah. One night during a drunken rage, Aaron put his hands on Jeremiah and tore out his left eye with a broken bottle. The event made Anne realize how horrible the situation was getting and it wasn't going to change unless he did something about it.

So during the night, she grabbed whatever she could carry and escaped with Jeremiah. Anne went back to her home planet where asked a place to stay with her adoptive father. Maxwell would've turned her away but when he saw the situation she was very distressed. He quickly let her in, where she explained what happened to her over the course of the years she's been gone for. Maxwell decided he would help her get back on her feet and get her son some needed medical attention. With his connections, Anne was able to earn a job as an assistant for an astrologist. She began to focus on her mental health which got better overtime. The same couldn't be said for Jeremiah. His worsened.

The abuse of his father caused major trauma in him that he wasn't able to get over. He became quiet, easily angered by others, and had thoughts about violence. Since he only had one eye now, he was bullied by the other kids once he was able to go to school. This aggravated him and he'd often get into fights because of it. Anne decided to pull him out of public school and into homeschool because things were getting out of hand. Jeremiah was taken to several doctors to see what was wrong with him. Each time, he refused to say anything. Anne stopped trying to help him since he was refusing to help himself. Yet, he was just a child. A child who wanted help but didn't know how to say it. Maxwell, decided to take over for trying to help him. Or what he thought would help him. He sent Jeremiah to a boot camp where he'd be straightened out for his bad behavior. Jeremiah loathed Maxwell for this and promised himself he'd get revenge. Life at the boot camp was utter hell. He was pushed to limits that caused him to have mental breakdowns in private. Jeremiah didn't have any friends. This caused him to be the target of the bullying of the other boys there. Throughout the torment, he was able to find comfort in the tales of well known pirates. His favorite being of the insane pirate captain Baozhai. Something about her unhinged, eccentric personality and her cruel brutality against others whenever the messed with her, manged put a smile on his face. (Baozhai in an old photo: *tearing someone's guts out.*

Jeremiah: 🙂)

At fourteen years old, Jeremiah made surprising a discovery that he was biological related to Baozhai. He had overheard Maxwell chatting with another guard about how he was glad Anne never grew up knowing that she was related to that maniac. Yet now that Jeremiah knew, he was angry that this knowledge was withheld from him. Why would they do such a thing? He tried telling his mother about this... His mother called him crazy... crazy... crazy...

That was the breaking point for Jeremiah. For a majority of his life, he was told that there was something wrong with him and that he needed help. Often being titled mentally ill or not alright in the head... Despite knowing he was, he was just tired of being treated like one.

Jeremiah ended up running away from his home planet by hiding on a cargo ship. He wanted to start somewhere fresh, where he wouldn't be as well known. He also wanted to know more about Baozhai, since most books didn't have enough information about her having a child, other than speculated rumors. For a while, he traveled around places, in search for more knowledge about his grandmother aka Baozhai. That's when he walked into a small tavern. He tried to figure out where else he could ask about her. An anonymous figure in the corner asked why he was wanted to learn about these things. Jeremiah, in the best way he could, explained that Baozhai was his grandmother. The tavern exploded into laughter after hearing him say that. They mocked him for a bit until the anonymous figure silenced the entire tavern by shooting a random person. They stood up and recounted the tale of Baozhai's fall. How she wanted the death of the upper class to continue. It was originally her plan to make a line of pirates to be like her. Then it was all ruined because of the guards. How he admitted that he failed because he wasn't careful enough... It was Ironbeard recounting all of this. He decided to continue with what she would've wanted... If Jeremiah wanted to join him. Jeremiah quickly took the deal, seeing as there was nothing holding him back now. On the outside, it didn't seem he was all too excited but on the inside, he was thrilled to finally be apart of something... And that he'd get to be just like his idol.

Likes: sharp objects, creepy bugs, reading, drawing, smoking cigars, and cats

Dislikes: his left eye, being told he's crazy, others trying to get close to him, physical affection (even though he sorta wants it), and long conversations

Other: Jeremiah doesn't like being called Jeremy or Jerry or literally any nickname to his name. If someone calls him "Jeremy" he would literally rip out their tonsils.

[ziracona]

Hello! I have always believed that Michael needed better doctors and good treatment. He was simply billed as "Evil". Sometimes I think that at that time they were unaware or ignorant of mental illness, and that is why Michael did not recover. I wish it had been treated better. I would like to know your opinion about it ;v;

Oh, absolutely. Michael is a very tragic character, and what happened to him was almost entirely Loomis’ fault, secondarily the system and his parents’, and like onyl 0.8% his own. It’s true that mental health aid has historically been really bad in most places, and even today treatment and acceptance—even in specifically medical settings—tend to be abysmal. Of course people knew less than they do now about how psychological stuff works, but bias, cruelty, and superstition as well as a system that enables and even to degrees outright encourages that is to blame for the awful treatment people woth mental illnesses and personality disorders faced and continue to face, not just a lack of knowledge, and the history is really heavy and awful to look over. : ( It’s horrific some of the things doctors have done and do to people just trying to get help.

Like, in Michael’s case, we’ve had a name and understanding of psychosis since the 1800s. Canonically, by the time the poor kid was six years old, he was hearing voices telling him to do bad things to people. He told his parents, seeking help, and they did nothing to help him—just told him it was his imagination—despite knowing hos grandfather had suffered the same symptoms. If they had only taken him seriously and given him therapy and possibly medication too, Judith never would have died. (I am not goong to say it every time, but all this information is official canon) Michael’s reason for killing his family members is wanting the vocies talking to him to be quiet, because it’s agonizing. If you’ve ever had intrusive thoughts (stuff like “pull into oncoming traffic” or “break that and see what happens” and such that don’t actually compell or force you to do it at all, and are always things you as a person deeply do not want to do, but nevertheless are really annoying or distressing to hear in your head), imagine that cranked up to 1000, endless and constant, but from voices that seem to come from around you instead of in your head. Especially as a young child, with no understanding what is happening to you, this would be incredibly scary and distressing—doubly so when dismissed by your parents, whose sole job is supposed to be to love and protect you.

The voices say they’ll be quiet if Michael kills Judith, so Halloween night, he does. Important to note here Michael is recently six years old at the time, which developmental psych literally is not old enough to have a complete understanding what death itself is, let alone complex morality. You /cannot/ be evil at six, you simply don’t have a complex enough understanding of right and wrong or of consequence to /be/ evil. Also at this age, usually kids see death as a vague concept, but one that applies to people they don’t know only, not to them and their loved ones. In Halloween 1978, immediately after stabbing Judith, Michael looks away while he keeps doing it, and his breathing speeds up in a scared way. He barely looks at the body, and immediately goes down stairs to wait for his parents—probably for them to fix it—and does nothing to flee or hide what he’s done. He looks traumatized when they take his mask off. (Lots of little notes here like that Judith when she sees him seems annoyed but not very, and when he attacks her, tries to shield herself and call to him to stop, rather than fleeing or fighting back, which [appealing instead of fight or flight] is pretty exclusively something you only would use if attcked by someone you are on good terms with—I mean, Michael is six—if Judith had /tried/ to fight back, no way she would have died—so there’s less than nothing to indicate they had anything but a loving familial sibling relationship. But if I list all these I’m gonna launch into my six page Michael Myers meta so I will speed through the rest.)

Anyway! Sorry, I have many feelings. About...everything. Including Michael for sure. So, immediately after killing Judith, Michael stops talking. He also shows other psychosis and trauma readily recognized side effects, like catatonia, slowed movement. In Halloween 1978c Dr. Loomis claims he tried to treat Michael for eight years, then spent another seven trying to keep him locked up because he realized he was evil. This is a /blatant/ lie, as in film canon Loomis, by Michael’s review hearing I believe four months in? Six or less for sure, I believe it is four. Loomis has /already/ become convinced Michael is a demon in human form, faking his symptoms, and itching to kill again. The other doctors think Loomis is crazy, as does the other doctor who examines Michael, but they’re awful people so they let him stay Michael’s doctor anyway, even though they refuse to move him to Litchfield maximum security. By this time only a few months in, Loomis is canonically also threatening the six year old in his care and constantly telling him he is an evil being who wants to get out and terrorize again. (Also, I will die enraged the sentance Michael gets for killing Judith is to remain locked in solitary in a sanitorium for /15/ years, until he turns 21, at which point he will be tried as an adult for murder??? The fuck?? You CANNOT charge a 6 year old’s crime in adult court! ‘Tried as an adult’ is meant for like, when a 17 year old dismembers their family and eats them! It’s for particularly heinous crimes, committed by someone /very/ close to being legally an adult, and that /only/. The idea of waiting fifteen years to try someone as an adult for something done at age six is laughable and sick).

Okay this is already long, I get carried away rip. Uhhh, anyway, yeah. In Smith’s Grove, Michael is visited by mom and Laurie once, then never sees any of his family again, because his dad hates him and forbids the others—finds out because Laurie is four and talks that they went /one/ time, and physically beats four year old Laurie for mentioning his name until she trauma blocks out ever having had a brother. From then on, Michael spends /fifteen/ years and all the dest of his developmental stages of childhood in a sanitorium with Dr. Loomis—a man who on wild religious superstition grounds assumes by his own admission /on sight/ that Michael is evil, and no other human contact. According to canon, Michael spends at least four hours of /every/ day with Loomis, his /only/ human contact, who threatens him, promises to stop him, and endlessly barrages him with “You’re evil, you’re not human, you want to kill again, I /will/ stop you,” and nothing else. He also canonically keeps Michael overdosed on a type of antipsychotic that, while a fine drug if used normally, if overdosed can deeply worsen symptoms, and can cause permanent brain damage.

Honestly, if a six year old is exposed yo major trauma, none of their issues are explained, legitimized, or believed, and almost all of their developmental stage is spent with endless voices they don’t know the cause of suggesting murder and violence, one human being and authority figure telling them over and over and over for fifteen years with no other constant in their life or human contact period that they are a demon in human form who wants to kill and is /going/ to do so again...? How else was that story ever going to end? I’ve said it before, but that’s beyond conditioning; it’s lab growing a human child to one day walk out and murder Laurie Strode with a large kitchen knife.

I stand by Halloween is a greek tragedy more than a slasher, and Michael and Laurie are both victims. He’s the Asterios, she’s the Ariadne. Loomis the Minos, the real villain. (Or the Poseidon choose your poison).

Anyway, I 100% agree! If he had just gotten help from his parents, Judith would have never died. If he’d had good doctors, none of the events of 1978 would have come to pass, or anything after it. Loomis single-handedly causes the deaths in 1978 himself through years of cruelty, and bigoted bias towards a small child in his care who needed his help, not his abuse, but he chose to break as much as he possibly could despite his responsibilities as a doctor, an adult, and a human.

If you’re interested, I did a canon-deep-dive character study short story on Michael on AO3! Halloween is such a sad story but it’s fascinating. God, poor Michael and Laurie deserved so much better than they got. It’s a testament to Michael’s character that even after 15 years of Dr. Loomis, he really only kills his intented target(s) in search of quiet from the voices, and anyone who sees him/would be a threat, and not other people. Makes no attempt to kill any of the kids in Halloween 2018, and only kills Bob when he literally opens the door to his hiding spot and Michael is found and Bob becomes a threat to him. In H20, after Michael has had 20 years on his own, you get arguably the least brutal Michael, who intentionally passes on killing the mother and child, and the security guard he walks right past, because they don’t see him and thus he doesn’t /have/ to. Halloween II is less intentionally avoiding, but even then he still does the same multiple times too, like with the old lady making a sandwich, or the scene in the incubator room. Anyway he desevered better fuck Loomis all my homies hate Loomis.

[janekfan]

Chronic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802141

Thank you @taylortut for helping me!!!

Jon looked at the clock.

537.

The glowing numbers burned themselves into his retinas. How had it been less than an hour since last he’d checked? No use for it. Better to get himself up and ready for work. But he’d closed his eyes against the headache blaring like a klaxon and he’d have to open them again at some point.

Taking advantage of his lonely flat, Jon allowed himself to indulge the noise pushing its way through grit teeth as he maneuvered his sore legs from under the quilt. He sat a moment, pressing the bare soles of his feet on the cold floor and levering his heavy body upright with a shaking arm.

Exhausted.

And it’s only--a quick glance.

544.

The hell was wrong with him?

Since just before accepting the position as Head Archivist, and rightly pissing off both Sasha and Tim on her behalf, Jon felt like he’d been constantly coming down with something. Dizzy and nauseous and unable to eat, he was chronically exhausted and while he’d never slept well at the best of times, it was evading him more than ever.

And there were his mornings. Struggling to motivate himself out of bed, brushing his teeth with his eyes closed and leaning against the wall. Deciding he could forgo a shower just once more and choosing instead to make breakfast. Forcing himself to eat a piece of dry toast with his heart hammering away in his throat and half laying on the table, panting through his tea. Mentally, Jon prepared himself for the walk to the train, automatically going for his cane because lord knew he needed the support.

He’d get to the Institute hours early.

At least that made him look good?

Taking advantage of being a cane user, Jon opted for a reserved seat, the guilt at truly needing one eating away at his insides. But there were black spots at the corners of his vision and he had to sit down before he fell down and the guilt is a far sight better than causing a scene. The trip was too short. His chest ached from the constant pounding and he pressed the hand not holding his cane for dear life against his breastbone. It didn’t help but the pressure and touch grounded him enough to stand up. To head to the cross street. To wait for the lights to change. To stagger down the stairs and into his office, to drop into his desk chair and focus on every breath of air moving into his body and back out of it.

Jon put his head down. There was no one here. Wouldn’t be for a couple hours yet and he was exhausted, shaking from it. Nauseated. There wasn’t a fever. He’d gone as far as to purchase a thermometer to be certain when the strange symptoms refused to abate no matter how often he let himself rest, no matter the meals he tried his damndest to eat, the water he drank down. He was trying. Jon couldn’t remember ever taking such good care of himself and of course it refused to pay off. In Uni, he’d driven himself into the ground with little consequence. He’d maintained those habits until a few months ago and now--

Muffled voices drifted through his door, the rise and fall of easy conversation. The kind he’d once been allowed to partake in. Laughter filled the air and while Jon wished to join them he knew he wasn’t welcome.

Why had he done it?

Why hadn’t he refused Elias?

Because you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish. Needy. Greedy, grasping, always striving to know answers and never satisfied with what you're given. You take what you don’t deserve.

Reluctantly, Jon stood, slowly, because doing anything quickly these days has him ducking his head between his legs or waking up on the floor without any recollection of how he came to be there. He could at least collect their research in person, greet them. Try to be the boss they deserved.

Sasha was the boss they deserved.

“Ah, g’good morning.”

“Jon!” Martin, smiling shyly. “You’re here so early!” He began to stammer and Jon’s legs began to ache. This wasn’t a good day. They seldom were anymore. “I m’mean, of course y’you are, you work very hard!” Martin was saved by Tim swinging an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ve broken ‘im, boss.” A flush rose in Jon’s cheeks. He could feel it. “No worries, Marto. He’s always been an early riser.” While it was said in jest, the tone settled heavy in Jon’s chest, directly beside the pain blossoming like a thorny rose. Luckily, he was rescued by Rosie, standing halfway down the stairs and informing him that Elias requested him in his office. Jon didn’t relish the climb, no matter how grateful he was to escape out from underneath Sash’s heavy gaze. She had every right and he would bear his punishment in silence until she chose, if she ever did, to forgive him.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jon limped out of Elias’ office without any recollection of what they’d spoken about or if he’d even spoken at all. Thumping pain and panic and he knew he was rude to ignore Rosie at her desk but he wasn’t in any shape to hold a conversation, fairly certain that he wasn’t able to currently speak, far too focused on trying to hide how ill he was. But every sound was magnified tenfold in his ears and he could barely remember where the door to the archives was with the way his head reeled and spun. Jon wanted to sink to the ground once he had the door between himself and the lobby but he’d never make it to his feet again after that. Push through, he told himself. Get to your desk. He allowed himself a moment, two, just to put his head to rights, to try and breathe through the battering of his pulse.

And oh god he wasn’t going to make it and he wondered if somehow Elias knew. It was as though he’d kept him standing there talking about nothing until Jon hit his limit, knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to get back to his office.

But he had to try and he’d almost gotten down the ridiculously narrow stairwell before he forgot nearly entirely why he was there in the first place. Was he going up? Down? Meeting with someone? Just arriving? He could barely breathe and the panic welling in his throat was choking and the black was crawling over his eyes and the dizziness only increased and he needed...needed…

For a moment, Jon didn’t recognize where he was, the migraine, the fuzziness, conspiring against memory and reason. But he knew this color, the hideous lick of paint some contractor had splashed over the walls a lifetime ago.

Breakroom?

Wha--

“Jon!” He winced, his own name like broken glass shredding every sense to ribbons. “Christ, are you alright?” Martin, the sounds he made were shrill, grating, and if he’d been able to tell him to be silent, he would have. “We heard the noise--you’d, you fainted! On the stairs! Luckily it was only the last few.” Jon blinked, dull and dumb, forcing himself up, up, up, and through heavy mist and fog in his search for words. Weary to the marrow of his aching bones, Jon slumped on the cushions and tried to think of a way to stop Martin’s incessant chattering. Tim and Sasha, alerted most likely by all the commotion, stood over him and he craned his neck up to look at them. Tim especially looked furious.

“You could have been seriously hurt!”

“S’sorry…” And he was, between his rabbiting heartbeat, throbbing migraine, and difficulty drawing breath into his exhausted lungs, he wanted to cry with how sorry he was.

“This is ridiculous. You need to take better care of yourself.” Jon wasn’t sure why the sting from Tim’s accusation cut so deep and he hung his head, biting trembling lips to prevent the tears threatening to spring free.

It wasn’t fair.

By all accounts he was taking care of himself. More than ever!

“Did you even eat today? Drink anything?” He nodded, miserable, unwell, and equipped with no better answers than the truth.

“Tim. He’s just come to.” The understanding was the final straw, and Jon’s sight blurred with salt damp. “I’ll make sure he eats something before going back to work.”

“Alright, Martin. If he gives you any trouble, call.” At Jon, he pointed. “And you, no trouble.” And he nodded miserably.

“Okay, they’ve gone.” The familiar sounds of the kettle heating filled the room, the clink of a pair of ceramic mugs, the rustling of the tea bags, Martin’s distracted murmuring, all combined to calm him. “How long have you been feeling this way?” Jon looked up, surprised, and shrugged one shoulder, accepting the small plate of biscuits and nibbling slowly and when he finished those, Martin offered up the tea. Sitting with him in companionable quiet, he sipped on his own cup. Nothing more was exchanged and when Jon finished he thanked Martin for the company and locked himself away.

Jon was at wit’s end. Nothing he tried seemed to improve anything and the few times he did speak with a doctor, he was sent away with the same, useless advice, or worse, told he was imagining things, making it up, having panic attacks even though he was familiar with those and this was not that.

Work was a nightmare made even more miserable with the overwhelming amount of paperwork, statements, boxes, misfiled folders and envelopes and items and Jon missed the easy camaraderie and understanding he’d had with Sasha and Tim. Maybe he should resign, try and salvage what little of the relationship they still had, or, or invite them out for dinner, his treat, but Elias would never let him quit and the very idea of entertaining exhausted him. A cuppa appeared at his elbow filled with something new, something floral and slightly sweet, accompanied, as always, by a few biscuits.

“That’s a lot of work, Jon.” He sipped, grateful, lifting an eyebrow in response.

“I knew it would be when I accepted this position.” Undeterred, Martin stumbled forward.

“Y’yeah, I mean, you would have. Of course. I just--” A breath. “I’ve finished with my other assignments, ready for round, uh. Well, another round!”

“Ah. Alright, I’ll bring something over when I pick up your translations.” Martin took back the cup, nodding enthusiastically, and Jon appreciated that it was business as usual, selecting a few he’d been putting off and making his way toward his assistants ignoring inquiring looks in favor of taking the chair Martin offered up to go over his expectations. Short, succinct. A few notes on one translation, advice to remember for next time, and Jon felt reasonably confident Martin could handle himself. It wasn’t until he’d gotten back to his office that Jon realized that was the first time he’d been offered a chair. It was becoming apparent that Martin was good at noticing the little things about them. A blush heated his cheeks and he tried to rub it away, feeling ridiculous that such a small act of kindness made him feel so seen.

Jon pushed forward, ignoring the warnings his body was trying to give him in favor of plowing through his work like he’d always done, and by the time he made it home, was on the verge of collapse. Hot tears of frustration stung at the corners of his eyes, spilling over when Jon allowed himself to feel it. More than anything, he was used to having control over himself, working when he wanted, burying himself in the research, devouring knowledge. Now he was at the whim of his physical form. Paying more attention to it than ever before and never knowing if he was going to wake up and have a good day or a bad day and it was maddening. Managing whatever it was without knowing what it was, was impossible with no rhyme or reason he could discern.

So in the absence of both, Jon kept shoving his way through how difficult it was because if he could just be normal through pretending everything was normal, then it would be.

Jon knew Tim was cross with him and managed to avoid him for most of the day, taking breaks here and there like he’d promised Martin he would do. But his luck, while it had been holding steady, had just run out and he found himself cornered in the breakroom.

“What do you think you’re on about?” Frustration had long since turned to outrage, boiling over.

“Tim, I. I’m not sure what you mean--”

“Damn it, Jon! You’ve already taken on a job you aren’t fit for! You can’t keep heaping your work onto Martin and then swanning off!”

“That’s.” He balled his hands into fists, nails biting crescent moons into his palms. How could he explain when even the doctors thought he was making it all up? Heat rushed through him, top to toe, flushing his face and he wavered, legs threatening to buckle, vision threatening to go dark. He was going to pass out a second time today if he didn’t sit down. But that would mean walking away from Tim, and he didn’t think the man would let him. At least not until he was done telling him off. Better to be silent. Try not to pay attention to how erratic the persistent beating caged behind fragile ribs had become.

“Why didn’t you say no?” Because he wanted to be useful. Because Elias made him feel like he was capable even if he wasn’t. “Why didn’t you just let Sasha have this?” Because he was an awful, selfish person. “God, Jon. Why did you drag us all down here with you?”

Because he was lonely.

Because they’d been friends. Once.

Rather than remind Tim that he was free to go at any time, that he and Sash hadn’t been forced or coerced into accepting positions here in the archives, Jon pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Well?!” Sharp, strident, Tim’s shout echoed around in the space between his own hurting, agonal breaths in his ears.

“I. I, I need to si’down…” wanted to lay down. Wanted to sleep, trembling with exhaustion, about to go down.

“What?” Lashes fluttering as he gripped the thread of consciousness with both hands, he barely registered Tim’s hands around his shoulders, guiding him into a chair and pushing his head down between his knees. “Jon?”

“M’okay…”

“You are clearly not.” A wide palm settled on his back, keeping him folded over. It was helping.

“S’mm...been. S’fine.” The floor came back into focus, all the little cracks and imperfections and Jon counted the streaks in the pattern in an attempt to ground himself but kept losing track of the number. Neither moved until Jon attempted to sit up, slowly, accepting Tim’s help.

“Jon?” He looked spooked, pale. “Please, what’s going on?” His hand settled in the crux of shoulder and neck, thumb ghosting along his clammy skin, and Jon allowed himself to find a morsel of comfort in the familiar gesture, the threat of tears closer than ever. So he reached for him.

“I don’t know.” And Tim pulled away as if burned, the frustration and anger rising in his face again, and Jon was bereft. “T’truly! I--”

“Why won’t you be honest with me? Don’t you trust me?” Standing, he took a step backwards, away from him, the hurt in him a palpable thing. “We’re supposed to be friends!”

Yes. They were friends. It was most likely why for the first time in a long while, the pain in his chest wasn’t a physical ache.

“Tim, I.” Fingers folded to fists to rest on his knees. But he was already gone.

“Jon!” Tentative, Martin lifted his chin. “Oh, oh.” Having been crying, Jon figured his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and he didn’t bother attempting to hide the evidence. “Alright.” Martin went about making tea, chamomile, herbal and calming, placing it before him on the table with a chocolate digestive. “Drink this down and then go home. It’s half six.”

“Mm.”

“Sleep will help.”

“Mm.”

“I could speak to them for you. If--”

“No!” All but shouted. “No. That won’t be necessary, Martin.” Carefully he stood, paused. “Thank you.” And left.

Jon called off.

Called off again.

Again.

Apologized to Elias in a curt email requesting leave and was granted it.

He ignored his phone. His texts. The knock at the door and Martin’s voice behind it. He slept when he was tired and he was tired often and it was easier besides, to finally listen to the screaming of his body. It was after hours on his fifth day gone when Tim let himself in with the spare key to Jon’s flat.

“Hey.” Sheepish, he held up his hands in surrender, a bag of takeaway from Jon’s favorite place dangling from one. “Martin said you wouldn’t let him in.” Dressed in the most comfortable clothes he had, which were also the shabbiest, Jon glared at him from where he laid on the couch. “I was an arse.” Slowly, he sat up, making Tim wait on purpose, a powerful frown still aimed in his direction.

“You were.” He was aware he looked a mess, greasy hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, but he felt a sight better for the rest he’d gotten.

“Would you accept an apology?” Folding his arms, Jon leaned back into the cushions and fixed his stare at whatever rubbish was on the telly.

“Might do.” Silently, Tim scurried into the tiny kitchen and Jon listened to the familiar sounds of him rooting around for cutlery. It smelled delicious and comforting, a reminder of nights spent together laughing at nothing on this same couch and despite himself, Jon began to relax.

“I’m sorry.”

“Alright.” Tim’s face split in a wide, relieved grin, and he flopped down next to him, planting a loud kiss to his temple before urging him to eat. “Martin sent you here.”

“An angry Marto is not to be trifled with.” Through a mouthful of noodles, Tim chuffed in laughter. “Wouldn’t tell me anything, other than to stop being a prick.”

“He did not.”

“He did not. But it was more than implied!” He put his bowl on the low table in front of them, sitting forward with his hands dangling between his knees. “And he was right. I didn’t give you a fair shake and accused you of awful things. And I know you’re doing your best at this job.”

“Gertrude isn’t making it easy.”

“Neither is your health, I take it.” Jon set his own meal aside, curling into the padded arm.

“No. It isn’t.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

“I know some things that help. M’Martin has been invaluable.”

“Has he, now?”

“Leave off!”

“Okay, okay.” But he continued giggling as Jon felt his face go hot, muttering.

“He really has.” This time Tim pulled him gently into an embrace.

“Then Sash and I will just have to catch up.”

[nothorses]

hey, im a teenage trans guy and im not sure if u want to answer advice asks and stuff, butyou seem pretty knowledgeable, so yea. basically its like, i have really crazy extreme dysphoria, and my therapist was willing to let me start T this year (when i turn 15, so it would have been in a few weeks) but my mother has flat out refused to let me get any gender dysphoria diagnosis, let alone hrt. my dysphoria has just become unmanagable now, to the point that even going to bathroom makes me ill. also, im like, straight, and im out as a lesbian, but not as trans cause almost everyone here is v transphobic and uneducated. sorry for venting so much, i think ur blogs great tho xx

I’m really sorry you’re in that situation, that fucking sucks! And you deserve to have a say in things that concern your own body & your mental health.

It might be worth a shot to get your mom to come to a session with your therapist, if you think your therapist will help you talk to her about this and how it will help you. If you can get a doctor looped in and on your side, that might also be helpful! Some people do respond a lot better to “authority figures” than they do their own kids, which is shitty, but maybe something you can use to your advantage.

I also do not think your mother gets a say in what you’re diagnosed with, though she might be able to manipulate that if a diagnosis requires extra hoops where you are. I would look into what is needed to get that diagnosis in your state/country; I know that in my state, at least, my PCP just threw it in my file when I told her I was trans. If you need certain tests or more people involved, that might be harder to accomplish. Your therapist might be able to help you find this out!

And if it comes down to it, it’s ultimately not 100% up to your mother- depending on where you are and how supportive the medical professionals involved are, you can try to invoke (or just let her know you’re able to invoke, but “don’t want to have to”) whatever child medical neglect laws apply. Sometimes “withholding prescribed medication” is considered neglect that can be acted upon, and that is something you can communicate, as a nuclear option, if you’re able to get a prescription for HRT.

Outside of that, I really encourage you to look into organizations for trans youth. There might be local groups in your area, which will probably be the most helpful! If not, I poked around a bit and found some resources:

(US) Search for Lambda Legal for legal protections in your state

Lambda Legal’s Know Your Rights

Transgender Law Center’s Youth Resources

NCTE’s Know Your Rights

NCTE’s Healthcare Rights

Just knowing your legal protections, and keeping a list of legal resources to go to if you need it, might do a lot to ease some mental/emotional distress. And it’ll be good to have that information if you do decide you need it.