#so im about to have a long stretch of debilitating pain :))

[psychoticwillgraham]

hi. im experiencing excruciating pain in my entire body today :))

[shrineofdolls]

i thought i was too much of a failure to be a woman. i didn't want kids. i didn't like men very much. im not sure i really like women either to be honest. i would wear something i liked and be made fun of for it. i was too modest or too sexy. i was thinking about my appearance too much but also i wasn't taking care of my appearance enough. it's starting to feel like i was just surrounded by people who weren't thinking when they spoke.

i am a woman who sometimes doesn't shave. i shower every day, but sometimes every other day. i floss my teeth once a day and brush them twice a day. when i was under the age of 22 i was very disgusting so i worked hard to start cleaning up my act because i knew it was disgusting. i still hold stretch from before. i feel like i can't wash it off.

i had very large breasts before and i hated it because they were so large. i was often told to work out to reduce them, and people would point out to me that my boobs looked heavy. it was really uncomfortable having people point out my boobs all day. they were also physically almost always tender or in pain. i hated it. if i had small breasts i would have been fine being a girl.

i had my uterus removed. i can't have kids now. i cry often about this and feel really stupid for doing it. i had very painful periods that would knock me out for a week and sometimes i struggled with prolonged periods that lasted up to a month. i was in pain because i couldn't get help for this and doctors solution was to put me on birth control. I've taken the pill, had the shot, had a hormone implant placed in my arm, had another hormone implant placed in my uterus, they all made me sick and i started to have debilitating migraines.

theres more medical shit but this post is too long I'll write it up later jesus fucking christ

i shouldn't of done this to my body. i don't know what to do i just want to be back in my body from before. it was hard sometimes but it wasn't really that bad when i think about it. i think i was just self concious my breasts were large

i miss my soft small voice. its fucking gone. i thought doing this would fix me but it made everything worse.

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold. 

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back. 

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire. 

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound. 

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay. 

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but  stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override. 

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried. 

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him. 

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [bonus]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–nudity boobies! w.c; 2.2k a/n; why did a week go by so stinkin’ fast? i’m not ready to let go of this couple! that being said, i wouldnt mind posting some drabble babbles about these two or four. im utterly thankful for the love and passion my readers had for this, i had so many kind readers that kept me afloat through all of. i can’t wait to see you in the next one, and i hope you enjoy this little glimpse💕

[final] [bonus] -> masterpost

“You’re not Jimin.” 

Jungkook’s eyes snap open, and he takes note of the change in air. Chalk it up to the open window or the fact that the rain’s evaporated, but he can’t help the pinch of pain in his heart as he realizes that you’re far, far gone from this world. 

And in your place, is you. Not quite you, but it’s almost scary how easy it is to regard your visage and simple conversation. 

“Jimin,” he repeats, as if he heard you wrong. “As in, Park Jimin? Tiny guy with a big ego?” 

“Yes,” you reply blandly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes are sparkless, flickering between your state of nakedness and his state of nakedness. “I know I wasn’t exactly sober last night, but I distinctly remember telling him he’d be in my bed tonight,” and you regard Jungkook with a sort of pointed look, unable to decipher your situation, “but here you are. Still cupping by boob.” 

Out of reflex, he squeezes his palm. Yep, that’s yours. 

A little part of him also wants to yell to the heavens because you failed to tell him you were hooking up with Park Jimin before all of this. 

Okay technically you didn’t, but the person in front of him did. 

His heart is fresh and stinging like a hot cut on the asphalt. He watches you take in your surroundings, humming when you notice the new clothes on the rack and the way your desk has been rearranged. Jungkook is trying very hard to be patient, after all you’re a stranger and suddenly he feels like he’s the one that’s known you all his life. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

You stretch, testing out your limbs as they pop and crackle at your command. You run a hand through your strawberry-smelling hair, and Jungkook has to grip the sheets to not go by instinct and take you right then and there on this mattress. With a shameless groan of satisfaction, you flop against your bed. Jungkook tries, emphasis on try, to not watch as your breasts bounce and the way your hair flows around your pillow like the angel you are, but he’s rendered smitten. 

“Uh,” boobies boobies boobies. 

You pointedly ignore his piss-poor attempt at coherent conversation, staring up at the ceiling.  “Ho—ly shit,” you curse freely, heaving an exhausted sigh, “I feel so sore.” 

“S-sore?” Great, he found his voice. 

“Yeah, like I’ve been in a coma or something,” but you think nothing of it, summing it up as a crazy dream from alcohol poisoning. You sit up straight, reaching for your phone. It’s not on your desk, but instead you find something far more interesting. 

You reach for your Midnight Blue Citrus candle, frowning at the contents. The wax is nearly burnt to the end, the tips of the wicks charcoal black and frayed. Waving your used candle in Jungkook’s face you blame, “What the fuck, did you use all of this last night? I just bought this like, literally yesterday!” 

His face falls, “What? You’ve had that candle for forever—”

“And why the heck it is so hot in the middle of February?” 

Oh. 

Something dark and sad creeps up Jungkook’s stomach, and he hates to be the one to tell you. February was when it all started, and his life changed with the presence of you. Jungkook tells himself repeatedly that the woman in this room is simultaneously the person he’s loved since winter and the stranger he feels that he’s meant to love with time. Considering everything’s happening all at once understanding it is still hard, but he’ll try for you. 

It breaks his heart to see how you look lost and confused, like a child woken up from a debilitating nightmare. Your lips are bitten red and purple, trying your hardest not to show fear in front of him, a stranger. You’re frustrated as you try your hardest to shut the windows to block the incoming humidity from last night’s rain. 

He says your name, sweet and soft. “It’s almost summer,” he says, his voice calm and collected. 

“So are you telling me, that wasn’t a dream?” 

The two of you stare at each other, unmoving. He tries not to squirm under your gaze, you watch him intently, scraping at the edge of your brain for any ideas. You’re hugging yourself, arms wrapping against your breasts as if you’re trying to hold your body together in a way that alludes to any brokenness you felt over these past two months. 

Neither of you break the silence, and there’s a bang and a crash. Jungkook flinches at the tell-tale signs of the unwanted intruder, the fling of keys across your wooden table and a shrill call of your name. 

“Who’s that?” 

“Probably Hoseok,” Jungkook answers reluctantly, his thumb rubbing between his brows. 

He ignores the extra cool air against his naked bits when he throws the blankets off his lap. Ignores the way you pointedly, shamelessly check him out as he throws on his sweats and a t-shirt. To his dismay he can’t ignore the burn in his cheeks when he knows how you’re scrutinizing him like a one-night stand, trying to recollect any type of concrete thought that would seem plausible enough to explain why you woke up in bed with him. 

Throwing open your bedroom door and leaving you there, he cards a hand through his rogue bedhead to face a frantic Hoseok. 

“It’s so early,” Hoseok warbles to himself, impressed that he’s managed to cop fresh donuts and coffee at nearly 7AM. 

Jungkook sees nothing but an orange blob and Hoseok’s head, bleary and vibrating. Rubbing his eyes he says, “You just realized how early it is? Couldn’t you have stopped by a little later?” 

“No, I couldn’t!” Hoseok’s now invading Jungkook’s personal space, as if you weren’t the bridge between their threads of a relationship, as if he and Hoseok could be friends. “I woke up a few hours ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I felt it, Jungkook. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. The air shifted and I felt like I was between two parallel universes—I swear on my bad knee that I’m not going through a drug trip—and I felt the world turning and changing and it was so fuckin’ weird I had to come here as soon as Dunkin’ opened. Didn’t you feel it too?” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook exhales, not bothering to hide the disappointment. He smiles sadly, “it’s definitely not her.” 

Hoseok’s expression and excitement over the world’s converging falters, and he pulls Jungkook into a hug. They’re not particularly close and Hoseok’s smaller in size compared to Jungkook, but for those five seconds he feels comforted as he hugs him back. 

“Why don’t you go home and chill out, I don’t mind explaining things to her,” Hoseok offers, “and I’ll call you later and let you know how it went.” 

“Okay,” Jungkook replies, voice slow, “that sounds like a good idea, actually.” 

The situation is royally messed up, and he hates that he can’t blame it on anyone. Jungkook is a practical man, and he knows that he has no use when Hoseok is here with donuts and coffee. More importantly, there is no use torturing himself by letting his heart break in the presence of  you. 

“What is this, a party?” Taehyung’s bare feet smack against the hardwood, and he plops himself in the chair next to Hoseok, “did you get me coffee this time?” 

The two of them bicker good-naturedly, with Hoseok explaining a little kindness goes a long way and Taehyung muttering that kindness doesn’t happen without caffeine. Jungkook excuses himself, feeling very much out of place as he moves to your bedroom to pack his things. 

“You’re leaving?” you’re standing in the middle of your bedroom, now dressed in a long t-shirt and your hair tied clean and away from your face. You look pretty. 

“Yeah,” he says shortly, stuffing his jeans in his bag and making sure all traces of him are gone from your bedroom. “Need to sort things out,” he excuses, and while you may not buy it, he really does. He feels heartbroken, angry at the world. Maybe he could visit Yoongi today and get a demo in, put all this pent-up emotion to good use. “But Hoseok brought you breakfast, he’s a good friend, he’ll explain everything.” 

“But I don’t know Hoseok,” you mumble, picking at the hem of your band shirt. You’re pouting, stubborn. 

“But you don’t know me either,” Jungkook retorts, not unkindly, but not exactly gentle. “I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.” 

There’s a hard rip at his zipper, putting in a little too much force as he seals away all his things into a compact backpack. Heck, he even went as far as to take back the hoodie he lent you last month, making sure the fabric is crisp and folded so he can stow it away from your curious eyes. He shoves on his denim jacket from last night, still lingering with the scents of sand and saltwater. It makes him sombre, and the selfish part of him wishes to bottle up that scent and tuck it away forever. 

“You’re wrong,” you blurt when he moves toward the door. His hand lingers over the knob, “I do know you.” 

He narrows his dark eyes, taking in your honest expression, “At Jimin’s job, maybe? I did a couple interviews in the beginning of February. Maybe we passed each other while you had lunch with him.” 

“No. You sang to me, talked to me, as much as you could up until this moment.” 

He remembers the stories you fed to him last night under the stars, shameless and full of love as you explained to him of his other self. The life where he’s a renowned singer, a Golden Boy, one of the most revered in his industry. A life he could only dream of, yet somewhere out there he’s living it in another body making that dream come true. 

Thoughts are running through his head, memories that aren’t his own. He could only imagine what you must’ve gone through, recovering in a hospital bed for two months, unable to move but actively aware of the pain and anguish. How confused you must’ve been, aching to figure out what the hell is going on, acutely aware of the voices constantly chattering about your well-being. 

One of those voices being Jeon Jungkook, who was probably taking care of you night and day. 

His head is starting to throb, and he feels like he’s five seconds away from spiraling. 

“I’d… I’d feel more comfortable around you, Jungkook,” you confess, reaching for his hand, “but if you need to, you can go,” you bite your lip, folding in on yourself once more, “if it hurts too much to be around me right now.” 

He gladly takes your hand, rubbing his thumb between your palm. The familiar sparks he feels when he holds it return, but tamps it down for the sake of your vulnerability. It’s not your fault you’re in this situation. “No… I’m just gonna go home for a bit, clear my schedule,” he gives you a little smile, and he inflates a bit when you give him one of your own. “I’ll come back for you after breakfast.”

“You promise?” 

“Promise.” 

You pull him into an unexpected hug, suddenly fearing he may never come back. 

“I always wondered what the man looked like behind the voice,” and you’re suddenly melting, feeling a sense of familiarity as you let your heart run faster than your brain when you let him hold you in his arms. He smells just like him, too. 

His embrace is tight, and his arms fit in all the little curves and spots that make you feel warm and safe. “And am I living up to your expectations?” it’s a half-joke, after all the both of you are  going simply by feeling and there’s no way in hell would he even attempt to compare himself to well, himself. 

You pull away to look at him, really look at him. Honest, clear eyes. Jungkook thinks he sees the world in your gaze. “Only if you eat a donut before you go,” you reply with a shy smile. 

At your defiant mention of food he can’t help but grin like a maniac, letting you tug him back out to sit at the counter with him and have breakfast. Like he said before, he can’t wait to fall in love all over again. 

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Bailey!

You have been accepted for the role of ROSLALIA CLEARWATER with the facelaim change of Im Jinah! We were so excited to see someone interested in Rosalia. We think she’s such a multi-faceted character and you really brought her in life in your application. We cannot wait to see how her appearance back to the Order will change the dynamics here! Welcome to the roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Bailey - she/her

AGE: 26

TIMEZONE: CST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I work full time so usually I’ll be on in the evenings and weekends. If I had to wager a guess, I’d say I should be able to get on around 3 times a week.

ANYTHING ELSE: triggers - animal abuse/cruelty/torture.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Rosalia Clearwater

AGE: 30 - December 12, 1951

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Female | She/Her | Bisexual

BLOOD STATUS: Half-Blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

ANY CHANGES: Requesting a FC change from Jamie Chung to Im Jinah

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

 (tw: minor self harm)

PERSONALITY:

You know those girls you hear about - the ones that grew up with scrapes on their knees and branches in their hair, with wild smiles and honey sweet laughter? No concept of fear, the kind of girl who embraced everything the world threw at her with her feet planted firmly on the ground. Rosalia was once that girl - always ready to speak up and defend those that need defending, quick to fight and just as quickly settle down into a discussion.

She liked to have an understanding of those around her, how they thought and what drove them. It was maybe a more Ravenclaw trait but she found most confrontations didn’t escalate to the same extent if she heard someone out.

Not that she didn’t have opinions - she knew what she believed in and would do research to help support her ideas. Sometimes she’d get fixated on one idea and hold fast to it, that Gryffindor stubbornness settling into her veins. It would take examples and sources to change her mind at that point, not just an opinion. Of course, when it’s the minority (half-breeds and muggle born) there aren’t always the official resources to back up their experiences - biases run rampant throughout history.

She is a natural born leader and teacher - being the eldest of 4 definitely helped her develop those skills. It showed in her classes too - the ease with which she answered questions and how she would help others around her who were struggling, usually regardless of house. The Slytherin’s usually didn’t ask for help from her but if it happened, her answers were usually a little more clipped and there was a distrust in her eyes that wasn’t present with other houses.

Rosalia could definitely be rash in her decisions, jumping into a fight or conversation without knowing all the details. Most of the trouble she landed in was because she didn’t look before leaping.

She has learned over time to not only listen to what people are saying, but what they are not saying. Gaps in information and missing links usually mean something is fishy and she will never hesitate to prod a little if she feels there’s more to be said.

What do they struggle with?

As a child, she would ask question after question, regardless of how appropriate they were and without any regard for tact. The teachers in her muggle schools tried to train her out of it but it wasn’t until she went to Hogwarts that she truly began to see people from all walks of life and how her questions might affect someone. It was also the first place where her punishments stuck - detention in the muggle world would never compare to scrubbing out cauldrons for hours on end or polishing trophies until her hands were red and raw.

Over time, those relentless questions turned into a love of debate and she would eagerly

argue wixen politics or the rights of certain people or why the colour purple was clearly superior over all other colours. It was fun and it always felt like a contest and she did have a love of winning.

Her biggest struggle came around after she was hit by the curse. It wasn’t like breaking a bone, where the pain was immediate and overwhelming and recovery was slow going but the healing was obvious. No, this curse was more insidious - a dark mark forming on her bicep and over time spreading down to her fingers until her veins were dark and her fingertips black.

Slowly losing the mobility of her wand arm was debilitating - the magic thrummed in her veins but she wasn’t able to cast it, to release it to the world. And then one day, she woke up and couldn’t feel anything where the darkness was - no fizzy thrum of magic, no pinpricks of her sewing needles, not even the sensation as she dragged her sharpest knife along her forearm.

After fleeing Britain and the war, it took a very long time for Rosalia to be able to sleep through the night without dreaming of the night that sent her life into a tailspin. Even now, after all the work she put into her rehabilitation, a big part of her still doesn’t believe she will be able to be of use to the Order. What good is a wix with one good arm and unresolved trauma to an organization that is trying to save the wixen world?

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

Growing up, she never knew her father. Her mother, Vanessa Clearwater, rarely talked about him other than to say that he was a muggle and they were better off without him. It was the same with the rest of her sisters - all of them had a different father, always muggle, and never present. Any time they would ask after any of their absent fathers, Vanessa would snap and send them off to do chores until they were exhausted.

It was a strict upbringing but not unpleasant by any stretch of the imagination. Vanessa instilled in each of them a sense of worth and confidence that would be hard to shake. Magic was intermittent among the girls: Rosalia was magical from the age of three, Violette didn’t manifest anything until her 8th birthday, Alysum was the late bloomer of all of them - her letter came as a surprise and her first year was a struggle, but she did manage to manifest magic. Her magic was always the weakest. And Poppy never showed any aptitude for magic. This meant that her entire family doted upon her and did their best to include her whenever they could, but there were some times that Poppy was excluded despite their best efforts.

Vanessa Clearwater: Mother

Rosalia Clearwater: Eldest

Violette Clearwater: 2nd born

Alysum Clearwater: 3rd born

Poppy Clearwater: 4th born

OCCUPATION: 

Rosalia doesn’t currently have an occupation. Before she fled Britain, she was a full time member of the Order and devoted all her time to the cause. Once she was set up in Brazil, she picked up a waitressing job in a muggle restaurant to pay for her rent and food. Now though, as she steps out into the familiar gloomy atmosphere of London, she has nothing. No occupation, no home - she’s not even sure if she’s still a member of the Order.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER: What is their purpose in the Order? How do they feel about the organization within a failing war? Remember, the Order is also an illegal vigilante organization and that can be difficult for characters to navigate.

It was her home. She was a defender, a light against the evils of the world and now she was nothing. A burden to the people she once called family and a liability if she were ever caught. The guilt haunts her - knowing the risk her actions and memory could have.

And still…some part of her wants to be welcomed back, to rejoin the people she loves. Time is short and survival isn’t guaranteed - the gut wrenching article she read in the Prophet confirmed that. The darkness was spreading and she had to get back out there on the front lines…even if it meant her death.

Penance by sacrifice - could she ever make it up to the Order for leaving? If not..she would give her life for those that hadn’t fallen. She would do all she could to pass on what she’d learned to other members of the Order but, as far as she was concerned, her life was tainted and although she was ready to fight, she knew that her life wasn’t worth the same as someone like James Potter.  

SURVIVAL: 

She fled to Brazil and for a while, could not practice her magic at all. Each spell was a fight and every time she reached for it, it felt tired and lethargic. She got set up in a muggle beach side town and started working in a restaurant to make enough to live. She’s going back to Britain now and to be honest, doesn’t intend to survive. Her survival is no longer on the table - the survival of the Light is all that matters now.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Fragile, non-existent, shattered - coming back, she doesn’t expect any sort of warm welcome. She misses them all though, her heart aching every time she thought of back home, thought of sending another owl, of just picking up and going back to the friends and family she once knew. But her dreams are haunted by their scorn, by their betrayal and she finds herself cowering away in her small bachelor room.

Moody - he was her friend, suspicious and rough and always on edge but someone she could trust with her life. And now….well, if he didn’t hex her on sight, she would think it was a miracle. If she could just talk with him, explain why she left how she did…maybe he’d at least give her the time of day.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: 

Note that there are no planned endgame ships set in this roleplay. There are a few characters who are in romantic relationships at the start of the game, but it will be up to players to decide if those relationships can survive the war. This question does not guarantee that any ship will happen, it is merely for fellow players to see where your interest might lie.

Really, anything organic. Will have to work through trauma - doesn’t intend to survive war - why make long term commitments? Open to old flames/exes as well, if we want to establish something from Hogwarts time or from before she fled the country. Could be almost anyone in Hogwarts time and after that time, anyone who was part of the Order. Would never have a relationship with a known death eater - I am down for twists and subterfuge and betrayal though along those lines.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Rosalia definitely has some biases that she got while attending Hogwarts. Competitive by nature, it only made sense to her that of course Gryffindors were better than Slytherins. You only had to look at how the Quidditch games went or where the Slytherin common room was located - the dungeons were creepy and gross and those thoughts just translated over to the students who lived there.

As time went on and she slowly had smaller courses with more classmates from different houses, her immediate disgust and distrust began to go away. She was more likely to treat her fellow Slytherin classmates with respect and even joked around with them, but if she ran into unfamiliar Slytherins in the halls, her gaze would harden and that suspicion would filter back in.

She’s grown a fair bit since her school days and having travelled, does understand that you can’t judge someone based on how they were sorted or who they were at a young age. Still, there are some microaggressions she can’t shake and it takes a purposeful thought process to correct herself when she notices them.

Muggles - Rosalia has two different trains of thoughts when it comes to non-magical folk. The first one is based on Poppy - the baby of the family and someone who needs to be protected. She doesn’t have the luxury of magic to rely on and she struggled a little more compared to the rest of her family. If Rosalia had to compare, she would say it was most similar to seeing a puppy on the side of the road in a box that needed a home.

The other train of thought stems from what Vanessa has told her about her father. How he didn’t want to be a part of her life, how unreliable he was, how much better off they are without him. It’s normal for muggle parents to be absent from their child’s life and Vanessa didn’t want that for any of her kids.

Living among muggles hasn’t warmed Rosalia’s heart to them. If anything, the resentful side of her has grown - working in a customer service role has shown her the worst side muggles have to offer.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 

Honestly, I was looking around different roleplays on tumblr and I really loved the premise of this group. I also liked how the plot drops really incorporated all characters involved and seems to include everyone.

I’ve also kept thinking about this group after I messaged the main a month ago about the potential FC change. I literally couldn’t get Rosalia out of my head.

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

I really like the idea of exploring the trauma and PTSD that Rosalia has and how this will affect her return to the Order. I also like the idea of her not succeeding when she initially returns and forcing her to deal with some of the trauma she’s been avoiding.

I also love the idea of getting her to a place where she can produce a full bodied patronus again as she hasn’t been able to since she was hit by the curse.

[urcadelimabean]

Unpleasant emotions under the cut. Medical stuff, mental health

It still takes about 30 seconds of talking about the idea of getting back on the mats and training again before I start crying. And I cried already yesterday. I try not to think a lot about it which I know isn't healthy. It brings back everything. I wonder if people, even friends, didn't take seriously how badly this injury affected me in college because on some level it still isn't "cool" to care about things this deeply, especially not a sport. Maybe they expected me to just move on. I'm not stupid, I know there is at least a possibility of never being able to do brazilian jiu jitsu, judo or MMA again and only being able to do boxing if I could even bring myself to. But wow, people really didn't understand the earth shattering thing they were suggesting when they pointed out maybe I will never recover. It hurts to even consider it, and I have many times at this point. I didn't just love training, I was in love with it. Just completely completely in love. This isn't just bad because injuries suck and pain sucks. Of course I had found other hobbies in the years I've been rehabilitating my knee but nothing has come close to replacing actually getting on the mats and wrestling. And I still break down imagining what it would be like for this fucking injury to be over once and for all. I can't even express myself. A friend pointed out I didn't just go from being not very active to being bedridden and injured, I went from low-key having super powers and being extremely extremely way over the top active to being bedridden and injured and in pain, followed by having to relearn walking etc. Imagining being back there again, before all that when I could train freely, is just imagining all the happiness I know I'd feel and it's the weirdest and worst feeling because it's so so so happy and I'm so so so sad. "Happy" "sad" - why aren't words more helpful. I just can’t express it.

I'm going to be stretching my stupid fucking leg more and trying to see if the pain lessens. I literally can't stop trying. I feel like I have absolutely no control over not just whether or not I get better but also no control over my own desires like....it's been five years now, five!!!!! Years of my life!!!! Korra recovered from leg paralysis faster. And the idea of getting back on the mats for real still makes me want to go charging out my front door screaming bloody murder (this is a good, happy thing) with absolutely no caution.

That sport was everything in the world to me. I dont even acknowledge that very often. I was never ever ever dedicated to it I was addicted. Fun doesn't even begin to describe it and I was GOOD. And it was even more fun because I was good and because it was a challenge but I got just as much out as I put in. And I was getting better and better and better and never wanted to stop. I literally wanted to fight since I was a small child. Seriously, I wanted to be a knight or a pirate when I grew up, which is obviously hilarious in retrospect. When I started mixed martial arts it was a dream come true. It's as much a mental game as it is physical- that's why they call jiu jitsu "human chess." You're always adapting to your opponent and anticipating and strategizing. It's seriously the coolest sport in the world. And I barely think about it anymore if I can help it. I can’t even tell my cool stories of victory anymore because I can’t remember them well. I’ve forgotten what things are called and the specifics of how to do them.

Like........does it even matter why my knee has had so many problems? Was it not having actual painkillers after surgery that gave me nerve damage? Maybe the stiffness is worse because of small infections which I've heard have been the cause that made lots of other people's knee rehabilitation much worse. Would I even care if I found out now? Probably not. at all. I just dont want to be involved with this anymore. I am so deeply bored with these stupid fucking problems and I just do not care.

I didn't just go from being active to being inactive,I went from functioning so well in school to having trouble focusing and thinking clearly, having trouble sleeping, having trouble with homework, forgetting things, having intrusive thoughts, developing anxiety, having nightmares, not caring about previous interests, worsening self confidence, self harming thoughts, nightmares about suicide, huge problems seeing blood including period blood, randomly becoming rapidly afraid, hopelessness, dissociation, feeling angry all the time, having brain fog, not being able to cope with other problems as well in other parts of my life, flashbacks, financial stress, not feeling like I knew who I was, oh yeah also physical pain in many many degrees lol. How wild is it to realize I've been mentally shying away from some things so hard I thought about my scars as simply "long skin deep cuts" as opposed to what they really were post hospital: unanesthetized bone-deep stab wounds stapled closed over cut up tendon and screw and bolts. And nice of my doctors to gaslight me about it as well and push the idea that I just couldn't handle moderate pain. So nice of them to give me hydrocodone which no longer alleviated my DEBILITATING PERIOD CRAMPS so what will it do for stab wounds, I really don’t know. Also I should never have been prescribed hydrocodone for my period but how was I to know that that the time

To add insult to literal injury lolol, creepiness from men went up at about a 200% increase as soon as I was injured. This was the first time I really had to deal with men who are disgusting, obviously aside from my father.

I just look back at all these years. Of all the stupid injuries that other people have no problem recovering from, an ACL tear doing this is just actually INSANELY stupid I almost want to laugh. But that sounds like blaming myself and I'm so not going there because I know this wasn't my fault. I literally worked my ass off especially the first year (or worked my ass back on? I had so much atrophy after surgery from the swelling that my butt was asymmetrical lmao)

I just don't feel like I can work that hard anymore, I'm operating at less than half power but I'm still trying. The one positive, ha, thing I can say about having less energy to keep trying is that if there was a time for pushing myself it was at the beginning when i had to build most of the muscle back and I guess I mostly did that. I shifted to a softer approach and gentle but more frequent stretching instead of strength exercises and developing some more fine motor control I still don't have and trying to develop a more forgiving attitude towards my body. But I need to stretch even more and more frequently and focus on that over strength. I wonder if some of the pain is still related to muscle weakness but 🤷 I have a thigh muscle.

Anyway...'carry on' is what im going to do I guess. I'm just whatever word means existentially rapidly cycling from furiously angry to depressed to manically motivated to hopeless to numb and then back. I just miss it. I usually never let myself think about that. I loved it.

[harry-niclach]

TS TS

Virgil had been going through tics all his life whether or not it was more noticable now he was seventeen was a different story, as a kid he had always had very small and barely motor tics but now he was seventeen they included twitches of the head, arms, the scrunching up of the eyes or the face, rarely he would become paralysed and end up falling somewhere and he would just lay on the ground until he could stand again which usually took around ten minutes but on bad days it was longer, the only good thing about the paralysis one was that he didn’t twitch when it happened, he made involuntary noises and he often said random things but up until this point he had been very alone, no wanted to hand out with him because he didn’t fit into friend groups the only thing that helped him feel better was that when he was sixteen (last year) he had been officially diagnosed with tourette's syndrome, and at first it had been heartbreaking and he had looked at the news as debilitating which it really was but he soon began to look at it in a different light as his dads really encouraged him to embrace it and they didn’t ridicule him or stare and they somehow never seemed embarrassed but one of the most helpful things they did was to do with his coprolalia which made him swear and say inappropriate phrases and they didn’t happen often but when they did he always hated it they happened a lot when he was stressed which was becoming a lot more since exam season was coming up and he was always stressed about his grades. His dads never ever ridiculed him and they even laughed with him and the times Virgil wasn’t laughing, they would comfort him.

Virgil wasn’t on meds because they did nothing for him and he had met some awful people on his way to where he was but now he was joining a new high school as they had just moved to a new town, he didn’t mind they moved often but his dad Patton was certain they would be staying here for as long as they could and his Pa Logan had agreed and Virgil was perfectly content with it as this house was one of the better ones and the town seemed to be too.

He had to get two buses to school though which was a pain, because he wasn’t very good at suppressing his tics and even if he was he didn’t want to because it hurt and when he stopped suppressing them a lot more came out and the silence he had made didn’t compensate for the tics that came out.

It was on a Tuesday that his life changed a bit more that he would’ve thought, he was sat on the bus trying to muffle his vocal tics which was working somewhat, it was fair to say that today wasn't a particularly good tic day but he had had worse, his physical tics however were not doing well, his head kept twitching to the side and his hand and arms kept stretching, he kept kicking his leg out in front of him, luckily no one was sat in front of him. He kept taking deep breaths which worked for about twenty seconds before the slight flailing came back,

Before he could think about how to stop them though someone sat next to him and he immediately panicked and that didn’t help at all and right after the person sat down Virgil’s right arm shot out and punched this person in the arm, but they didn’t say anything, they turned with a smile and held their hand out,

“Greetings! I am Roman, Who might you be?” He seemed to be in the best mood even though he had just been harshly punched for no apparent reason,

“I’m -lemon!- Virgil,” He shook Roman’s hand before looking down but it didn’t last long as his head jerked to the side and his eyes screwed shut before relaxing for a few seconds, then his arms began to flail a bit but this stranger- Roman- didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact, he seemed to be ignoring the tics altogether which, in Virgil’s opinion was brilliant!

“Do you go to Golden Oak?” Roman once again was smiling as he ignored Virgil’s ticing he thought it the nicest thing to do and the boy seemed very self conscious and nervous about his tics so Roman decided not to bring it up,

“Yeah -lemon!- do you?” Virgil’s arms id some weird flinging thing, his leg kicked a couple times and his head jerked right and then left a few times before flinging back and then finally relaxing again,

“I sure do! It is one of the most magnificent schools i have been to! And I absolutely adore that you will be attending it too! Oh! Do you have your schedule yet?” Roman was basically glowing,

“Yeah,” Virgil pulled out his schedule and passed it to Roman who scanned it quickly and then beamed,

“We have every class together except for biology, i do Spanish, and art because I’m in drama!” Virgil was, honestly, relieved because this Roman dude seemed really nice but he supposed it was time to explain himself,

“Cool, I feel -F-fu- that I should ex-fuck- explain myself, I have tourettes -Pancakes!- and i do a lot of -Lemon!- ticking, I don’t think about -Pancakes!- or lemons as much as I say it,” Virgil’s head jerked a little and both his legs swung and kicked, his gloved right hand punched his chest as he squeaked,

“I guessed that was the case! And don’t worry about it! Last year I wrote three different papers on tourettes!” Roman seemed so nice and Virgil couldn’t help but smile back, since being diagnosed he had learned to laugh at life and he would often laugh at his ticks because they were awkward and the best way to dismiss that was by laughing about and sometimes his tics were funny but sometimes they were just exhausting, especially in classes.

Roman and Virgil made small talk until the next stop where they needed to wait for a different bus,

“Lemon! Fuck! Pancakes!” Virgil’s vocal tics could just be let g for now because the only ones getting on this bus were Roman and Virgil and if Virgil was very lucky not many people or none would be on the bus, while they waited Roman began to speak,

“If you don’t mind me asking, and you can totally say no, but would you like to...be friends?” Roman sounded remarkably smaller and a little sacred and Virgil wasn’t going to deny him, in all honesty, Virgil would love to be Roman’s friend,

“Lemons! I would like -f-fu- that,” Virgil suppressed his swearing tics as much as possible but most times he couldn’t stop, plus it hurt to suppress tics. Roman visibly brightened and then without warning hugged Virgil before backing off a little, it was short and sweet, and in all honesty Virgil enjoyed it,

“Do you think -pancakes!- that you could sit -lemons!- sit with-” Virgil stopped being able to talk as his jerked and his arms flailed too much to keep talking as he just couldn’t get the words out, so he waited it out, it lasted five whole minutes but he was fine, Roman seemed worried though,

“Virgil? Are you okay?” He seemed hesitant to ask but his worry outweighed his hesitancy,

“Yeah -cats!- I’m fine,” Virgil breathed deeply as he tried to focus, he kept making noises obviously, he did that most of the time and every now and then his gloved hand would come up and punch his chest or his rams would fly up or out or back,

“What were you going to say?” Roman tried to fix the conversation,

“Could you -Lemons!- sit with me at -lime!- Lunch?” Virgil looked at Roman for a while but his head jerked and he broke eye contact, Roman smiled and nodded very enthusiastically, the truth was Roman didn’t have any real friends sure he had ‘friends’ but a lot of them were toxic and none of them really liked him, they liked the mask he put on but Virgil seemed to like him so far and if he decided he didn’t like the real Roman, the mask could always come back up.

“Of course! I would love to dearest Virgil!” Roman gestured wildly with his hands and Virgil could already tell, he was one of the most extroverted kids, but he didn’t mind because Roman seemed like a true friend, he couldn’t help but let a gummy smile crossed his face as he watched Roman prance around lamenting words of endearment.

The bus pulled up two minutes later it was packed full today and that did not bode well, Roman got on first, leaving Virgil to follow him as his head jerked and his hands made random gestures, Roman choose a seat near the back and thank god that the only four seats that weren’t taken were the two behind and the two in front but there were people sitting across from them and diagonally to them, Roman let Virgil have the window seat so that his ticking didn’t run the risk of hitting anyone except himself and Roman which Roman was absolutely fine with.

Virgil began to talk to Roman, this time he started the conversation,

“What do you -Lemons!- know about tourettes?” He had to admit he was curious, because Roman could be misinformed or he could simply not know the right things for Virgil’s kind of tics or he could simply just not know things but there was also a chance that he did know these things,

“Well, I know about a lot of different types of tics, I know about and vaguely understand coprolalia, I understand what tic attacks are and I know some random bits of information that probably won’t ever be useful but I know them,” Roman seemed really interested inn tourettes and he seemed dedicated to his papers because that was a lot of information to retain and to understand it, even vaguely was impressive,

“I’m surprised most -pancakes! Fuck! Shit! Cunt!-” Virgil’s head jerked wildly again and his legs swung forward, kicking the chair in front quite hard as his arm punched in Roman’s direction hitting him in the shoulder, but he didn’t react, unlike those around them, people were staring with looks of disgust but Virgil had a mantra for times like this,

Those that mind, don’t matter and those that matter, don’t mind.

He repeated it a couple times in his head before speaking again,

“Most people don’t -shit!- don’t understand, even -lemons!- vaguely,” Virgil had an air of confidence but his eyes told a different story, they had an undertone of frustration and anger but a set sadness and fear were buried under that, Roman could see it all but decided not to point it out,

“Well, what can I say?-” Virgil cut him off

“Except you’re welcome!” He had a bright smile plastered on his face at the brilliant reference and Roman covered his mouth ad he gasped quietly,

“You...Like Disney??!!” He seemed very excited and Virgil felt so full of joy in that moment, more joy than he had felt in the last year, sure he had experienced joy but not like this. Virgil nodded causing his head to jerk down five times before he could look back up again,

“Well what about Mulan? Let’s talk” and so the rest of their journey consisted of ignoring the snarls and looks of disgust and the not-so-silent whispers passing around the bus about Virgil, and consequently Roman as the two spoke about every Disney film and the characters and eventually they were talking about Harry potter, the books versus the movies, so far Virgil’s argument for the books seemed to be winning, but before they could continue the bus stopped at the school and Virgil got all anxious again,

“Fuck! Shit! Fuck off!” The people were now just talking about him as he followed Roman to the exit but they didn’t make it that far, they were stopped by someone and Virgil instantly knew what was coming before they even opened their mouth nd it seemed so did Roman,

Virgil held his jacket close as he slung his backpack on his shoulder,

“What is wrong with you?” This was one of the times when Virgil wished this man had some curiosity in his voice but he didn’t, all it held was malice. Roman caught the question before Virgil could answer, as his head was jerking too much, but he managed to control his arms because they were holding his jacket very tightly, his shoulder kept jerking back though, and it would hurt the next day because t always did but that was the least of his problems right now,

“Let me answer that. There is simply nothing wrong with him, he is a fine friend and i don’t believe there is anything wrong with him. Unless you do?” Roman’s voice had an undertone of danger but this dude seemed to miss it,

“Yeah, I do! Look right now, even when we’re talking he can’t focus on us! And he keeps saying weird shit! What’s wrong with him?” The man’s insults weren’t anything that Virgil hadn’t heard before but they still hurt no matter how many times he heard them,

“Like I said, nothing is wrong with him, now excuse us, we have to get going,” Roman pushed past the man and Virgil stuck close, once they were off the bus Roman let out and angry sigh and Virgil thought he was mad at him for being an embarrassment but it didn’t happen,

“I was about to punch that guy,” Roman sounded angry but he wasn’t really, not anymore. Virgil’s head jerked a couple times and there were some weird noises and the word lemons but other than that he seemed to have calmed down a little now that they were off the bus,

“C’mon we’ll be late,” Roman took Virgil by the hand, gently, and led them to their first class, Math.

-

It turned out that they weren’t late at all, in fact, they were the first there beside the teacher, who smiled kindly, having already met Virgil she ignored the tics which now were just noises and the scrunching of the eyes and face, which weren’t really that bothersome unless he was reading, good thing they weren’t in English.

“Is there a seating plan?” Roman spun around, Miss Kathleen (she made sure they called her by her first name) was Roman’s favourite teacher, she was by far the most understanding and she was really funny, but she was like a mother to everyone but she wouldn’t tolerate bullying and she could really be strict if the situation called for it. Roman idolised her because she was just so great!

“Oh, well there is but since you are here early and you’re one of my favourites I’ll let you pick your seat and who sits beside you,” She smiled again and Roman beamed back before grabbing Virgil's hand again and leading him to the back, left corner, next to the window, which Virgil was very grateful for, after they had their books out (Virgil getting a completely new set of books to work from) Roman began talking,

“I think this is like one of the only classes with a seating plan so I’ll sit next to you in the other ones!” Roman was radiating happiness,

“Yeah, that would -Lemons! Fuck!- be nice,” Virgil’s head went back to jerking and his legs swung out, as his shoulders jerked back every once and a while and his arms would either come up to hit Roman or to hit himself. Today was going to be a long day.

-

Five classes and a break later, it was lunchtime, now Virgil didn’t have any complaints about the five classes he had been through, sure he got some weird looks and people who told him to ‘shhh’ but he ignored them because,

Those that mind don’t matter, and those that matter don’t mind

He was sat alone at one of the far away lunch tables he waited for Roman despite not being sure he would even turn up, he was wrong though because not even two minutes later Roman bounded over to the table Virgil was sat at, his legs swinging and his eyes scrunching up, as his arm punched his chest, he squeaked too, Virgil thought his tics were the worst thing but Roman thought they made Virgil cute and oddly attractive,

Roman sat down having just come from biology and Spanish the two were talking about what the lesson had been like and Roman was asking Virgil if he had been okay,

“So, did anyone give you trouble?” Roman sounded so protective and Virgil almost wanted to tell him that the biology teacher, despite being a biology teacher, was an ignorant dick, but he decided against and told Roman about his seat,

“I have to sit next to -fuck! Lemon, pancakes- to some kid who -lemon- thinks I’m a -lemon, lemon, lemon- freak and treats me like -fuck! Shit!- an experiment, I've had worse though,” He punched himself in the chest before his arm shot out to the side and the his elbows jerked back, his head jerked left then right then left again and his face scrunched up, all before he started eating,

“I mean, if you want I could take his whole face out?” Roman seemed dead serious and that just made it ten times funnier and Virgil threw his head back in a true, full body laugh, and the best part? It was a tic free moment. Roman joined in but then as they both calmed down someone walked over to their table and they seemed to have such an air of confidence that wasn’t fake at all and that was a little worrying, to say the least,

“Hey Roman, why aren���t you sitting with us today?” This kid wasn’t even acknowledging Virgil, like at all, but that was okay because Virgil didn’t really want to be noticed, so he just continued to eat his lunch,

“Well, I just thought I would sit here for today, y’know for some...Variety? Yes that’s the word!” Roman waved his hands around and smiled brightly though Virgil could see through the smile and it wasn’t like the one he had seen only minutes ago, but he decided to bring it up later,

The girl hummed, “Okay, well, if you don’t want to sit alone, then you can always come join us,” The girl took one last look at Roman before she tried to walk away but Roman butt in,

“What do you mean alone?” His tone was ludicrous but he was always that little bit extra,

“Well, you’re sat by yourself, or at least this kid that your sat with probably doesn’t talk much so it must feel like you’re alone,” She snickered,

“Well for your information, we happen to be having the most wondrous conversations and I like his company more than yours,” Roman seemed mad but Virgil didn’t really believe that Roman was mad,

“Geez, okay dude, no need to be so harsh,”

“Irony,” Virgil couldn’t help himself, he found irony so funny and stupid at the same time, kinda like tumblr humour, not the point!  

“What did you say to me?” The kid seemed genuinely curious but there was an underlying tone of danger that, while it went unnoticed by Roman, was not missed by Virgil, and you see Virgil wasn’t a violent person but he would and could fight if he had to and the weird thing was, when he got angry at someone or when someone he loved was being threatened his tics went away and it was amazing but it was also strange and it upset Virgil that it couldn’t be explained, but hey ho what can you do but get on with life,

“Irony,” Virgil repeated himself,

“What do you mean, irony?”

“Your response was ironic,” Virgil stood up from the table and turned to look at the girl who had come over,

“How dare you?!” She was mad but Virgil wasn’t sure if she would start a fight of not, hopefully she wouldn’t but you could never be sure with some people,

“What?” Virgil cocked his head to the side slightly and at this point there was a small crowd growing, Roman was still seated,

“You realise that you can’t speak to me like that?” She took three steps closer to Virgil, he didn’t step back like sh expected, he wasn’t afraid of her,

He held his ground.

They glared at each other for a second before she clenched her right fist and took a swing at Virgil’s face, she hit her target but she left herself wide open and Virgil swung his foot to kick her in the back of the knee, as she tripped, Virgil took a swing at her side just o throw her off balance a little more,

Now Virgil with only a bloody nose and this girl with a sore knee and a sure to bruise side, she tried to tackle him again but he just aimlessly dodged her and after that she was sure she wouldn’t miss again and she was right, she didn’t, she brought her fist up to Virgil’s eye and she hit him right in the left eye, he stumbled back a little but before he could be hit he elbowed her in the back before falling to the ground when something hit him in the back of the head,

He turned to see that it was another boy presumably this girls boyfriend but at this point Virgil’s vision was blurry and his head was throbbing he could only see out of one eye and he could taste his blood on his tongue, but he wasn’t done yet,

He wouldn’t lose this time.

Virgil stood up and stepped into a fighting position his eye already bruising up, the boy looked at him and laughed,

It was funny how he stopped laughing when Virgil brought his leg up in a very straight line and kicked the guy in the nose, he brought his feet back into an apprehensive stance as taekwondo was turning out to be useful he would thank his pa later for suggesting he take classes,

“How dare you?!” The boy recovered faster than the girl did and that surprised Virgil but he liked a challenge,

Virgil smiled a little as he strafed right to avoid the punches that were swung his way and then the boy decided he had had enough of being beaten he began to use brute force never leaving room for Virgil to attack back he was on the defense for the near future and he didn’t like it, his arms had been raised into an x position in front of his chest and his face to avoid a lot of pain but he had no room to attack, his arms become sore, absolutely sure to bruise heavily and he was sure he could keep it up,

Until he heard a snap.

He felt more than heard it but as soon as it happened he felt his arm become limp and it burned with pain he wanted to scream but he knew that wasn’t a good idea so he just let his tears fall silently instead of screaming or saying anything he gritted his teeth and just as the boy pulled away as he thought he had won, Virgil hugged his arm to his chest as he ducked under his arms but before he could do anything else a voice was heard over all the chanting in the crowd,

“What is going on here?!” It sounded like the head teacher but Virgil wasn’t sure, in seconds though he was leaned against the table,

Roman ha moved him.

And he was now sitting in front of Virgil asking him questions but Virgil couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing to his ears and the gasping noises he was making certainly didn’t help, the group started to dissipate but not everyone left a few pairs and the odd trio were still hanging around but Virgil couldn’t focus on anything else apart from the pain he felt,

“Vi….il….infirmary...c’mon….” That was most definitely Roman’s voice and there were shouts and murmurs in the background but as it happened Virgil wasn’t sure what was happening he wasn’t even sure how he was moving or if he was doing it himself, spoiler alert he wasn’t, He felt warmth around him though and that was somewhat comforting he would feel incredibly comfortable right now if it wasn’t for the pain he felt everywhere.

-^-

Okay so I know that was a lot and I know i don’t know a lot about tourettes I don’t have tourette's but I tried to research as much as possible and it may not be correct but I tried really hard and f you would like to massage me any feedback you might have don’t be shy I would love to hear what you think and where I may have gotten things wrong and if you want and if I get enough feedback about what is wrong and what id right then I will update it an we can work together to make to more correct and to read smoother and to sound better. I hope you enjoyed regardless of any mistakes and who knows maybe I’ll make a part two depending on how this is received who knows you might all hate it a lot but maybe some people will like it, well no matter what I enjoyed writing it and learning I love you all and of you read all of this note thanks you’re all pretty great human beings and I appreciate you,

@the-crazed-band-kid @nobodygotarrested

You both seemed very excited for this but then I don’t like it and it’s not very good but you said you would give me honest to god feedback so please tell me the good bits and the horrifically awful bits, if it’s incorrect or insults you in any way I will take it down,

Love you all

- Harry

[house-of-seoul]

Saudade [2]

✥ pairing: Jungkook | reader I Yooongi ✥ genre: angst (Soulmate!au meets Hanahaki!au) ✥ word count: 3.863 ✥ warnings: none ✥ author’s note: mylord end me. i have absolutely no hint of a plot whatsoever so im making this into something along the lines of a three part story. like three stages of heartbreak or somthing along those lines. take it, eat it and shit it out im done with everything bless you. 

Series: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3                                 

Saudade;                                                                                                           ↪ The feeling of intense longing for a person or place you love but is now lost

[Masterlist]

You coughed, surprising yourself. A burning sensation started to travel up from your abdomen to your throat.  You started to cough so hard you felt like throwing up.

A wave of pain suddenly washed over you; it was exquisite and debilitating. For you, it was the worst burning sensation you had ever felt. Your throat gurgled as you struggled to breathe, spitting blood. Your body was shaking. Slowly breathing hard, your hand shot to your side, clutching it as an electric shock from the pit of your stomach ran throughout your body, and then caught fire. The pain was merciless without escape. You fell to your knees, hands stretched out in front of you on the ground for support.

You felt something caught in your throat. Then, you sputtered out something – something dry.

There, you saw it.

Your eyes went wide and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You scooped it up in your hands, fighting the urge to cry.  

In your palm lay a familiar cluster of rose petals.

With a burst of anger, you threw away the petals, now littering the washroom floor. Biting back tears, you slumped your head against the cabinet in defeat. You watched the petals splay across the floor with an unwavering gaze as their fiery red orb of light slowly sank into threads of light, dyeing the petals first orange, then red, then dark blue, until all that was left of the petals were a chalky mauve.

Coughing out flowers sounded like a curse out of a fairy-tale – one that could never and would never exist in the real world. It was too beautiful, too unearthly to be true. However, when you first started coughing out tiny rose petals, you found out that you were cursed with the Hanahaki disease.

The disease started when you met Jungkook. The two of you were five-year-olds, innocent as day. Jungkook moved next door and he had reluctantly joined your tea party and a friendship slowly blossomed between the two of you. You had not have begun to cough flowers just yet. The two of you were far too young to experience any form of puppy love.

The first time you coughed out rose petals, the two of you were ten. Sitting near the edge of a lake, Jungkook had opened up to you and as his best friend, you listened. He told you about his crush on another girl in your class. When he first mentioned her name and how much he had a crush on her, your chest tightened, and your throat felt as if something was clogging it up. You gasped for air, and Jungkook thumped your back and a handful of rose petals fell onto your lap.

Screams erupted from both your lips and Jungkook practically carried you all the way back, even though you resisted his offer. Jungkook went home that night, thinking that you had accidentally eaten some flowers as a joke and everything was normal again. It was that night when your mother explained the Hanahaki disease to you for the first time.

It was said that a witch once cursed the entire women of a village for loving the village head – someone who wasn’t their soulmate. Although finding your soulmate was, and still is a rarity, the witch cursed them with the Hanahaki disease. The flower that grew within you would be different for each person – it would reflect the splashes of colors you had painted for their soulmate to see.

Your mother had explained how she too, used to cough out flowers when she was a little girl because she was in love with your father but he never reciprocated her feelings until later. It was a fatal disease, for the growing flowers would eventually clog up your respiratory system. The disease could only be removed if one undergoes an operation to remove the flowers, along with their feelings.

Jungkook’s crush with that girl in his class didn’t last very long, and thankfully, the flower petals stopped for a period of time. However, flash forward to your second year in high school, things were different now with you and Jungkook. Sure, the two of you were best friends, and the two of you spoke and hung out together a lot; but the only thing that was different was your love for Jungkook and Jungkook’s love for someone else.

It was like history repeated itself when he had told you that he planned to ask out your sister. He’s always fancied her, you’ve just been in denial for the entire time.

You sat under the sunset, reading a book when he first told you.

“Y/N, I’m going to ask Hyojin out,” he had mentioned out of the blue. Your chest tightened, the same way it did when you were ten. You felt a tingling, itchy feeling clawing up your throat and stopping midway. It felt like a hairball that had been stuck, but you managed to swallow it down with some water.

“Y/N, are you okay? You look like your –“

“I’m okay, Jungkook. I just choked a little on my water when I laid down,” you lied, clutching your chest and covering your mouth to prevent yourself from coughing out any more petals.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow but did not question further. “Well, what do you think I should do?”

You thumped your chest and the tightening feeling disappeared for a while. “Just go straight up to her and tell her,” you said. “Look she’s right there,” you pointed out to your sister, who was much prettier, perfect and definitely much more of Jungkook’s type than you ever were.

With a small smile, he ruffled your hair. “You’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for,” were his last words to you before Hyojin accepted his confession.

That night, you tossed and turned in your sleep, until you gave up. It was three AM, you sat on your bed, coughing out petal after petal, tears streaming down your face as you clutched your chest. The endless stream of petals seemed as if it would never stop, likewise with your tears as one single word ran through your mind. Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook. How ironic was it that he was as beautiful as the flowers you were coughing out?

You shut your eyes, trying to compose yourself before you were forced to go outside once again. On your knees, you and gathered the petals and dropped them into the toilet, flushing them away. You stared at the bowl as the petals swirled through the water, whirled away from you.

You stood up, gripping the side of the vanity. The pain had an unpleasant warmth to it, eating at your stomach. You felt slightly nauseous, just enough to make you hold onto the table for support and breath slow. You’ve often prized yourself in ignoring the pain and just rocking on regardless, but that just wasn’t possible right now. It owned you, dominated every thought, and controlled your every action.

You stared into the mirror in front of you. Your hair was sticking to the sides of your face as a thin sheet of perspiration glistened on your neck and forehead. Your cheeks were flushed and the tip of your nose was pink from crying. Dried up tears were streaked across your face, glistening under the fluorescent lighting. There was something solemn swimming in your eyes. Their stunning, deep brown held a truth that your face could not hide. The despairing chill that they conveyed made you feel heartbroken. You looked away; you couldn’t bear it. A lone tear rolled down your cheek.

And so, the world turned into a blur along with all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was just gone. You paused trying to hold back the strange feelings rumbling inside of you but you couldn’t. Another tear traced down your cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened. So many tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down your face. Your chin trembled as if you were a small child. You breathed heavier than you ever had before.

You heard the door creak open, the sound of footsteps coming to halt.

“Oh shit,” you heard a panicked voice curse from the doorway.

Your heart missed a beat.

“Sorry, the door was unlocked…” his voice trailed off the moment his eyes landed on you.

Through the mirror in front of you, you saw him.

“I-I was j-just leaving.”

Immediately, your hand flew to your face, wiping away your tears. You quickly removed the strands of hair sticking to the side of your face. You didn’t wait for a response as you tried to leave the washroom – you were beyond mortified.

You felt a hand firmly grasp your arm, halting you from moving any further. a soft whimper left your mouth as you desperately tried to wriggle out of his grasp. you tried your hardest not to look at him. you didn’t know what would happen if you did.

“Jungkook,” you choked out as you wilted under the heat of his stare. Your eyes trailed up to meet his. The two of you were standing in the washroom, staring at each other. Your stomach filled with a sense of fear and excitement. Time seemed to stop as those eyes met your own.

His touch was as gentle as silence but was still firm, unwilling to let go of you. You brought your head down to look at his chest instead.

“Jungkook, l-let go of me,” you repeated, your voice came out as a whimper. The familiar scent of his cologne infiltrated your nose and invaded your senses. You needed to get out. Now.

When Jungkook spoke, his voice trailed slowly, like his words were unwilling to take flight. There was a sadness in his eyes, the brown too glossy – similar to when you two were on the rooftop a few months ago.  

“Y/N,” Jungkook paused, it was the first time in months you had heard his voice say your name. “I-I’m sorry,” his voice was as light as a whisper but heavy with emotion.  

You tilted your head to look at him. Your eyes landed on his jaw and trailed up his cheeks to meet his eyes. His eyes were heavy with unshed tears.

“For what?” you felt your stomach as it clenched and unclenched, You were worried that the petals would come straight back up.

“For everything,” his voice cracked, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Just like that, your brain powered down, unable to process what was happening. A thousand different thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to focus on what was in front of you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he let out a tiny exhalation, as though saying the words gave him relief. “I’m sorry I left you like that, for what I said to you,” he took in a breath, “ever since that night, I’ve physically felt your absence.” His voice got softer, “missing you is the hardest part of my day.”

You couldn’t speak, it felt like you were swimming through a fog.

“Then why did you leave?” the back of your eyes burned with tears.

“I—I, I was confused. I didn’t understand what I was doing,” he shook his head.

“Confused?” you pressed. A swinging, seasick feeling took over your head, “you were my best friend.”

“I know,” again he looked troubled, as though trying to recall the meaning of the words. “I–,” he opened his mouth to apologize again when you stopped him.

“Don’t,” you couldn’t stop your voice from rising. The anger was vibrating, ripping through you like a live current. “Don’t say it because I know you don’t mean it,” your vision got blurry. “I loved you. You were my one thing. My—,” the sickness surged up and you took a step forward, clenching your fists, blinded with rage. “Why did you have to take the one thing that made me happy? Why did you take it? Why do you always take everything?” you felt hot tears rolling down your face. “Did you even miss me?”

Jungkook’s mouth opened, but for a reason unknown to you, he closed it. You waited for an answer, but you were met with silence.

You scoffed, “I knew it.”

“Y/N –,” his eyes flashed with guilt.

You wriggled yourself out of his grasp and pulled yourself away from him. “Why do I even waste my time,” you said under your breath as you tried to push past him once again.

“No,Y/N!” Jungkook grabbed you by your shoulders, “I missed you every single hour. And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. I’d catch myself walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me,” his voice was strained by the time he finished talking.    

You saw how he was staring at you. You couldn’t bear to see the way he was looking at you. His eyes bore into yours and became glazed with a glossy layer of tears. As he blinked, they dripped from his eyelids and slid down his cheeks. Jungkook bit his lip tightly in an attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from his mouth – your heart sank. You swallowed hard and looked away, hating the weakness of your spirit. You were more than this. You were stronger than this. But damn it, this hurt.

It hurt because he was the man responsible for making you burn. For making you feel like a woman. It hurt because it had been a trick. An illusion. And it hurt most of all because he did not see you the way you saw him.

“Y/N, please. Just listen to me,” Jungkook pled, “Don’t walk away from me,” tears had poured from his eyes. It was from pure pain and surrender.

Your eyes enthralled on him. His eyes were like crisp toffee drizzled in melted chocolate and framed with darling lashes. A blade nose and burrowed cheekbones, his appearance only to die for. You couldn’t help to notice leathery black strands flopping over his face which to your distaste was veiling some of his enticing features. So perfect, yet so frustrating that you could bear no social contact with that sensuous man. Damnit.

Jungkook did not belong to you, he belonged to your sister – Hyojin. She loved him, and you loved your sister. But you also loved Jungkook. You couldn’t break your sister’s heart, even if it meant breaking yours

“I’m good at walking away. Rejection teaches you how to reject,” you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes as you said it. You immediately regretted your words as soon as you thought of them, but you had no other choice.

You felt his hands drop from your shoulders in shock. Without sparing him another glance, you raced out of the room.

Your muffled sobs went unheard as you entered the living room. Immediately, you were hit with a suffocating wave of humidity. The air stunk with sweat and alcohol. Music blasted from the speakers and bounced off the walls of the house at a deafening volume. You could hear everyone screaming with joy and could feel their feet disturbing the ground around you. Without looking, their smiles extended towards you, attempting to rope you into one of their conversations. You saw people dancing – their bodies moved together as they celebrated, rhythmically breaking into shapes and colors that you were resentful of. You saw your sister, Hyojin, catch your gaze and attempted to pull you towards her group of friends. You simply looked away and headed towards the kitchen.

The kitchen was closed off and separated from the living room to which you were immensely grateful for. Along with you, there were a couple of people in a circle off to the side of the room, happily chatting amongst their selves.  You walked to the counter and spotted a jug full of what you assumed to be water and poured some for yourself. You were never a fan of parties, especially not your sister’s and his first anniversary.  

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” you heard a light voice come from behind you.

Scared, you dropped the cup and splashed the contents of your beverage all over the kitchen counter and onto your dress.

Shit, you swore under your breath as you vigorously tried to rub off the liquid from your clothes. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man step toward you. His hand was stretched out to stop yours from moving. You turned to look at the man that caused you to ruin your dress and for a moment, you stopped breathing.

His hair was black as the wintry night; eyes as deeply dark as were the desert skies. His beauty was as fervent as a fiery moon.

“Oh, did I scare you?” you heard him say with a small smile. “Ah, don’t worry about your dress. Vodka doesn’t stain.”

“V-vodka?”

He nodded. The man offered you a comforting smile as he leaned against the wall. “Mostly vodka, there’s a whole lot of other shit in there.”

You laughed and immediately regretted it as you felt your head begin to hurt. You pressed your hand against your temple, feeling it pound under your fingertips.

“Normally people get head splitting migraines after they get drunk,” he playfully teased you. You lightly hit his arm.

“Do you want some water?” he asked you. You nodded your head before you clutched your eyes together. The pain was getting worse.

He walked to the back of the kitchen, bringing back a bottle for you. “Here,” he gave you a plastic water bottle. Grateful, you muttered a rushed thank you and immediately gulped down the clear liquid. You hadn’t realized how parched your throat was until that moment.

“Whoa there, slow down. You’re going to ch—“

You coughed out some water as you choked on it. A warm hand patted your back as you gripped onto the edge of the sink in front of you.

“Today just isn’t my day,” you awkwardly laughed.

You turned around to face the man once again. His eyes were as dark as ebony, looking straight at you with a hint of curiosity. He reminded you of the night – he was as fair as a star when only one was shining in the sky.

His eyes smiled as he stretched out his hand towards your own, “Min Yoongi.” You were slightly taken aback at the sudden introduction, but slowly, you returned the handshake, feeling his soft hands carefully grasp your own and shake it. You told him your name and you heard him hum in acknowledgment.

The man’s eyes slowly crinkled at the corners, his lips twisting from the side. His eyes formed into small crescents, similar to Jungkook – the ones you fell in love with.

Your chest began to constrict and you felt yourself about to cough at the mere thought of Jungkook. Hastily, you reached for the water bottle again and drank from it, trying to suppress your urge to throw up right there and then. You looked back to see a concerned expression on the man’s face.

You offered him a sheepish smile, “I’m sorry you had to witness all of that. I’m normally not like this. On regular nights, I can drink water without choking on it,”

He kept looking at you, his face grew serious, “what makes tonight any different?”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before you made any motion to respond. You mentally debated if you should tell him about Jungkook. You hadn’t talked - couldn’t talk to anyone about this particular matter and Yoongi looked genuinely interested in what you had to say. You heaved a sigh and turned to look at him. “Tonight, I lost my best friend because I was stupid enough to fall in love with him,” the reality of the situation hit you after you admitted it out loud.

Yoongi made no comment. Instead, he leaned in, resting his arm on the counter top. His eyes flashed with concern as he waited for you to continue.

With an intake of breath, you poured your heart out to a complete stranger.

“For months now, a - a stone has been sitting on my heart. I’ve shed a lot of tears over him, lost a lot of sleep, and eaten a lot of cake batter. But now, after tonight, I have to move on. Life is going to be hell if I don’t shake loose from the grip he has on my heart. Even if he feels like the one. Even if I’ve always thought we’d end up together. Even if he still has a choke chain on my heart. But I can’t,” you looked at him, “Yoongi, I can’t shake him loose from the grip he has on me. I miss the smell of him. I miss his lips and his strong arms. I miss him.”

His eyes showed you the kind of gentle concern your mother used to show you. He laid his hand lightly on your shoulder, and instead of flinching like you thought you would, you were soothed by it. He left his hand there and spoke with such a soft voice you felt his words calming you more by the way they were said than the actual words. It felt as if you were wrapped in a blanket of his caring.

“I don’t think anyone can give you advice when you’ve got a broken heart. But, think of it this way: you can’t have heartbreak without love,“ he pointed out. "If your heart was really broken, then at least you know you really loved him.”

You took a minute to let his words sink in. Yoongi kept his hand on your shoulder, now sliding down to hold your arm, squeezing it slightly. You couldn’t help but ask him a question that’s been eating at you ever since you were left alone on the rooftop.

“Do people always fall in love with things they can’t have?’

“Always,” he said. You could see the silver of pain hidden deep inside his starry eyes.

“Why?”

He looked at you intently, from what seemed behind the veil of a grave experience. Then slowly, he said something that sent chills down your spine.

”Y/N, the heart was made to be broken.”

[nursebettyboop-blog]

Peds

Aniridia is the absence of the iris, usually involving both eyes. It can be congenital or caused by a penetrant injury. Isolated aniridia is a congenital disorder which is not limited to a defect in iris development, but is a panocular condition with macular and optic nerve hypoplasia, cataract, and corneal changes. -Children are 20/20 in vision only when they are 6 years old.

-X-ray can be done to check for growth in those worried about being short

-2 month old:

*97.6 T

*11.7 Lbs

* 24 3/4 height

-15 diapers/day (1 poop a day-mucous/blood..any allergies that mom may be consuming?)

-Nurses 4 times a day (2 hrs each time) MD Baez recommends nursing for 30 min at a time 

-Baby taking vit D

-2 mo f/u after this visit

- Aniridia is the absence of the iris, usually involving both eyes. It can be congenital or caused by a penetrant injury. Isolated aniridia is a congenital disorder which is not limited to a defect in iris development, but is a panocular condition with macular and optic nerve hypoplasia, cataract, and corneal changes.

*spontaneous mutation

*can pass to child

*PX6 gene affected

*Check for Wilms tumor (sonogram)-kidneys

*Ck for MR

*nystagmus

*Risk: glaucoma

*Red reflex? you can see a lot of red when looking into pts eyes bec pupils are so dilated

-Gas X for gas

-Colic: bend babys knees

-In babies 1-6 mo: they grow 0.5 ounce a day

-4 ounces q 3hrs is appropriate 

-RSV-premie/cardiac pts????

-whey

casin 

-croup:

hoarse, seal like cough, adults gets laryngitis, babies get croup, at night..it is worse..baby chokes on phlegm, steam bath/cold air/saline drops into nose help. Will turn into a regular cough. Rx: presnoisolone  PO and vicks helps. IM  presnoisolone for those with stridor. NO honey!

-Inflammed eosinophillic cells via endoscopy due to food allergies: 

*budesonide PO

*Nexium

-Neocate Splash-hypoallergenic amino acids in juice form

*Eosinophilic esophagitis

*Food protein-induced enterocolitis syndromeShort bowel syndrome Malabsorption Gastroesophageal reflux

-Elecare:

*EleCare and EleCare Jr are:Hypoallergenic1,* - Virtually eliminating the potential for an allergic reaction to the formula in multiple-food-allergic children100% free amino acids as the protein sourceClinically shown to be well-tolerated1,2,*in infants and children who cannot tolerate intact or hydrolyzed protein

-pediasure: Minerals and vitamins, shakes

-The Ehlers-Danlos syndromes are a group of connective tissue disorders that can be inherited and are varied both in how affect the body and in their genetic causes. They are generally characterized by joint hypermobility (joints that stretch further than normal), skin hyperextensibility (skin that can be stretched further than normal), and tissue fragility.The Ehlers-Danlos syndromes (EDS) are currently classified into thirteen subtypes. Each EDS subtype has a set of clinical criteria that help guide diagnosis; a patient’s physical signs and symptoms will be matched up to the major and minor criteria to identify the subtype that is the most complete fit. There is substantial symptom overlap between the EDS subtypes and the other connective tissue disorders including hypermobility spectrum disorders, as well as a lot of variability, so a definitive diagnosis for all the EDS subtypes when the gene mutation is known—all but hypermobile EDS (hEDS)—also calls for confirmation by testing to identify the responsible variant for the gene affected in each subtype.

*genetic testing

* JointsJoint hypermobility; loose/unstable joints which are prone to frequent dislocations and/or subluxations; joint pain; hyperextensible joints (they move beyond the joint’s normal range); early onset of osteoarthritis.SkinSoft velvety-like skin; variable skin hyper-extensibility; fragile skin that tears or bruises easily (bruising may be severe); severe scarring; slow and poor wound healing; development of molluscoid pseudo tumors (fleshy lesions associated with scars over pressure areas).Miscellaneous/Less CommonChronic, early onset, debilitating musculoskeletal pain (usually associated with the Hypermobility Type); arterial/intestinal/uterine fragility or rupture (usually associated with the Vascular Type); scoliosis at birth and scleral fragility (associated with the Kyphoscoliosis Type); poor muscle tone (associated with the Arthrochalasia Type); mitral valve prolapse; and gum disease.Each type of Ehlers-Danlos syndrome is defined as a distinct problem in connective tissue. Connective tissue is what the body uses to provide strength and elasticity; normal connective tissue holds strong proteins that allow tissue to be stretched but not beyond its limit, and then safely return that tissue to normal. Connective tissue is found throughout the body, and Ehlers-Danlos syndromes are structural problems. An analogy: If one builds a house with faulty materials, say half the necessary wood or with soft aluminum nails, it is certain there will be problems. Some problems are more likely to show up than others, but because those materials were used everywhere and are not necessarily visible, one can be surprised by where a problem shows up or how serious it is.It is much the same thing with an Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and connective tissue.The connective tissue a person with EDS is built with is not structured the way it should be. With a badly-constructed or processed connective tissue, some or all of the tissue in the EDS-affected body can be pulled beyond normal limits which causes damage. Connective tissue can be found almost anywhere, in skin, muscles, tendons and ligaments, blood vessels, organs, gums, eyes, and so on.The problems resulting from one’s body being built out of a protein that behaves unreliably can be widespread and in a wide range of severity. It shows up in places that seem unrelated until the underlying connection to an Ehlers-Danlos syndrome is recognized.

-Biophysical profile

Learn about and keep track of your baby's health. Special ultrasoundmethods are used to keep track of movement, increases in heart rate with movement (nonstress test), muscle tone, breathing rate, and the amount of amniotic fluid (amniotic fluid index) surrounding your baby. If these five areas are within a normal range, your baby is considered to be in good health.Check on your baby's health if you have:Hyperthyroidism.Bleeding problems.Lupus.Chronic kidney disease.Type 1 diabetes or gestational diabetes.High blood pressure (hypertension).Preeclampsia.A small amount of amniotic fluid (oligohydramnios) or too much amniotic fluid (polyhydramnios).A multiple pregnancy (such as twins or triplets).A pregnancy that has gone past your due date, between 40 and 42 weeks.

- The term broncholithiasis is used to denote the presence of calcified or ossified material within the lumen of the bronchus (1). A broncholith is usually formed by erosion by and extrusion of a calcified adjacent lymph node into the bronchial lumen and is usually associated with long-standing foci of necrotizing granulomatous lymphadenitis (Fig 1). Other causes of broncholithiasis include (a)aspiration of bone tissue or in situ calcification of aspirated foreign material; (b) erosion by and extrusion of calcified or ossified bronchial cartilage plates; and (c) migration to a bronchus of calcified material from a distant site, such as a pleural plaque or the kidney (via a nephrobronchial fistula) (1). Some authors expanded the definition to include those cases in which peribronchial calcified lymph nodes distort the bronchial tree without extrusion of the lymph node into the bronchus (2,3).

*dry unproductive cough, poor PO intake, No N/V/D, fever (104) with fatigue, poor sleep from, cough, congestion, mouth breathing, stinky odor, BMxfew times a day, green nasal discharge, wheezing (Albuterol was given). 

*Dx with flu if child has already had this for about a week

*Flu that is over 48 hours, cant iven tamiflu

*Augmentin 

*This pt has hx of febrile seizures, mom was giving motrin and tylenol alternatively to break fever but the fever wont go away

*give abx for 24 hours before kid can go back to school.