#support therapy for your local author

[str8up-vanilla]

Emma: You know Killian, it's real weird how we constantly get interrupted in the middle of intimate moments.

Killian: Aye love, if I didn't know better I'd say someone out there was doing all they could to stop our fun.

Emma: I know, it's weird right?

Killian: Very.

Emma:

Killian:

Emma:

Killian: !

Emma: !

Emma & Killian: Henry!

[mickandmusings]

third times the charm

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?

aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.

warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry

shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)

-

i.

"What do you mean you're leaving?!"

Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.

"I'm leavin', simple as that."

"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"

He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.

"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.

It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.

Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.

"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"

She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.

"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"

Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.

"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."

"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.

"You know I can't."

She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.

"C-call me when you get there?"

He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.

"You'll be the first person I call, baby."

Y/N's call never came.

She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.

-

ii.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.

Tyler Owens.

She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.

With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.

"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"

"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."

She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.

"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.

"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."

She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."

She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.

"Stop the truck!"

He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.

"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"

The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.

"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"

Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.

"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"

She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.

"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"

He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"

"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"

"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.

It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.

He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.

Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.

When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.

-

iii.

"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"

Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.

His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.

Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.

"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.

"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."

"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"

Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.

"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."

Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.

"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."

She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.

"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."

"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."

She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."

Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.

"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"

She pauses, realizing how vague that was.

"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"

She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.

"Tyler listen-"

"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."

She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.

"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."

He laughs with her.

"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"

She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.

"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."

"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."

She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."

Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.

"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."

Her statement is laced with sarcasm.

Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."

"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."

Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.

"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."

Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.

"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.

"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"

He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.

"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"

She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.

"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."

She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.

"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

[a-sip-of-milo]

NPD Resources Masterlist

[BPD]

The official resources masterlist for NPD. Includes all the links I've shared in the past and stuff I haven't.

Any posts I've linked about supporting those with NPD have been put in the misc section because I do not want to take away from what this post is really about, which is helping people with NPD, not the people around them.

Diagnostic criteria

NPD diagnostic criteria, rewritten by someone who has it

Official diagnostic criteria

An explanation of the diagnostic criteria

Recovery resources FOR the narcissist

NPD recovery resources

How to find therapy for NPD, common types of therapy and signs of an abusive/toxic therapist

Narcissist supply

What is narc supply?

Things that can give a narcissist supply

NPD stigma

The perception of NPD symptoms vs. how a narcissist might actually experience them

Why those with NPD have a hard time seeking help (spoiler alert: it's not because they're unaware)

A plea from someone with NPD (and some resources debunking common misconceptions)

Narcissism is not abusive / abuse is abusive

Debunking common myths on NPD

Common disproven myths about NPD

Miscellaneous

How to support someone with NPD

NPD Carrd (What is NPD, dpt skills and self-help)

Unravelling the connection: npd as a trauma response

NPD terminology (do's and dont's)

NPD safe blogs

@empath-abuse-awareness

@enigma-in-reality

@loverofmirage

@the-npd-culture-is

@nicepersondisorder

@theegosystem

@mischiefmanifold

NPD positivity so you don't have to go looking

Reblog to kiss a narcissist on the forehead

Reblog to tell your local narcissist that they're the best ever

Happy NPD appreciation day

Positivity for systems with NPD

Be normal about narcissists unless it's to give them love

NPD should be EPD (Epic Personality Disorder)

Of course I have a praise kink, I have NPD

Narcissists are so beautiful and handsome and wonderful

Positivity for narcissists who like sex

I love my narcissists

Aromantic narcissists are amazing

Narcissists I love you

Easy ways to spot a narcissist (it's not what you think <;3)

Narcissists deserve to be loved

As usual, if something needs to be deleted because it's wrong/comes from a toxic author/etc. please let me know. I tried to look on Google but all I found was ableist shit, so these are all found by your fellow narcissists on tumblr :)

Edit: If you have any resources, please send them to me through an ask or DM and i'll check it out/add it!

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan Pt. 4

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count:2.8k

Summary:  “Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Rating: T 

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, references of dead bodies + suicide, police, HTTYD reference, scars

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you so so much for all the kind support 💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Case

You take possession of one of Rockford’s spare notebooks, yellow and spiral bound, scribbling down details about the case he’s been asked by the police to help investigate.

7 suicides over the past 8 months 

Unsure why the brief lapse during the third month

Perhaps to throw police off potential trail?

Victims are all different ages, backgrounds, careers

Also found dead in different locations across Fox Leap—alleyways, parking lots, isolated spots

No witnesses

No suicide notes left behind 

Single commonality: all died by ingesting a cyanide pill

Suspects? None

Police aren’t convinced deaths are connected 

Rockford is certain they are

I don’t know what to think

The Invitation

Friday evening finds you job hunting across the internet from the comfort of the couch. It’s another one of the steps of Dr. Odair’s grand therapy plan to reintegrate you into society. Of course, what she failed to mention was that the potential career opportunities for ex-military empaths are few and far between. You lean back against the cushion, resisting the urge to grab your mug of tea and pour it onto your laptop. It’s not the computer’s fault there’s a prejudice against those with mind-gifts after all. 

The squeaks of Banjo’s stuffed toy pull your attention towards the dog rolling around on the floor, his beloved plush panda Bamboo held between his paws, teeth gnawing at its leg. Rockford lies stretched out on the white rug nearby, eyes closed, the picture perfect example of tranquility. He isn’t sleeping—you can tell by the tapping of his fingers against his stomach, a song only he knows—but it’s nice to pretend. For all that you’ve pestered him with questions about his job and for all that Rockford has patiently answered each one without even the tiniest thrum of irritation, his bizarre, seemingly nonexistent sleeping schedule is a topic you’ve yet to broach with him. 

Brown eyes snap open, startling you so badly it’s a miracle your laptop isn’t sent crashing to the floor. Before you can ask what’s wrong, Rockford’s on his feet and stalking off down the hallway in a blur. You blink, caught off guard, and exchange a look with an equally bewildered Banjo. Should you follow after him or…?

A knock on the front door makes the decision for you.

The prospect of a guest sends Banjo into a tizzy, ditching Bamboo without remorse, tail wagging so fast it’s a wonder it doesn’t fly off. You can’t exactly blame him. Other than a quick visit from the landlady to give you your own set of keys and introduce herself— Professor Rosasharn Claremont, an instructor of forensic sciences at the local university with prehensile hair she used to slap the back of Rockford’s head for not visiting her enough—nobody’s knocked on the door as long as you’ve lived here.

You’re not sure who’s brain function shorts out first when you open the door: yours or the unknown man wearing a police badge on his belt. He’s middle-aged, dirty blond hair, a scar twisting along in a distorted line from the left side of his mouth to his ear. A hideous mark, but at the same time intriguing in its uniqueness. You can’t help but think how if it was copied onto the right side, it’d almost look like some kind of villainous grin.

Banjo’s attempt of squeezing between your leg and the doorway to get a good sniff of the man is enough to jumpstart you back into motion. Nudging him away with your socked foot, you tell him to return to his bed, punctuating the command with a firm point of your finger. Only once he sullenly pads away, ears drooped as if you’ve just gutted Bamboo right in front of him with a butcher knife, do you turn back to face the policeman, who appears to have also gotten over his initial surprise.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Inspector,” he corrects with an accent you can’t quite place, almost like a rumbling sort of growl, but despite the harsh sound his tone is polite as he introduces himself. “Inspector Dorrance with the Fox Leap Police Department. I’m here for Tim Rockford.”

His emotions are almost unnaturally steady, like he’s got the internal parts of a clock ticking away rather than temperamental hormones. You figure he must’ve gone through some sort of training course for mood management. Smart. A lawman with a high pressure job, anger issues, and a loaded gun is a disaster waiting to happen.

“Oh, is this about the case?” you ask with far more perkiness in your voice than you intend. 

“He told you about that, did he,” Inspector Dorrance says in the exact same instant that Rockford calls out from the depths of the apartment, “Get to the point why you’re here, Kez.”

Kez? You mouth to yourself before opening the door wider, inviting the inspector to step inside. He isn’t subtle as he looks around, gaze lingering noticeably on the few personal items of yours spread throughout the room, before he turns towards the hall.

“Another body’s been found. Abandoned warehouse near the wharf.”

“And?” Rockford asks, still out of view. 

Dorrance side-eyes you, clearly debating with himself the legalities of discussing an open case with a civilian present. A civilian he clearly knew nothing about as of two minutes ago. You offer up only silence in response, too curious for your own good to leave without him directly asking.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Your roommate emerges from his office, his trench coat gripped in one hand and mouth fixed in an unimpressed frown. He gestures between you and the inspector. “Kez, my current roommate and match, Roan. Roan, my ex-roommate and one of the only competent members of law enforcement in the city, Keziah. Can we get back to the victim now?”

Your eyes widen. Ex-roommate? How long have they known each other? There’s definitely a story there. 

“I’m sorry,” Dorrance begins, “did you just say she’s your match? When the hell were you going to tell me this happened?”

“Apparently not,” Rockford mutters. “I was going to tell you when it came up. And it just did.”

“You—” Dorrance cuts himself off with a sharp exhale through his nose.

It really is a credit to Dorrance’s mood management training his emotions don’t even so much as dip or catch fire. Instead, he shoots Rockford a look that plainly says, We’re going to be talking about this later, and then turns to face you once more.

“I wish we were meeting on better circumstances. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you since you’re his match that underneath this—” he gestures vaguely at Rockford which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

Dorrance carries on, unbothered, “—is a giant question mark nobody will ever find the answer to. But if I were to bet on anyone coming close, I’d put my money on you.”

“Thank you, I think,” you say, daring a quick glance at Rockford’s face, which you’re pleased to notice has softened the tiniest bit. “You’ll be the first one I tell if I do.”

For whatever reason, your answer has the inspector immediately smirking, left side of his face stretched tight due to the scar tissue.

“Kez, in addition to being a recurring pain in my side,” Rockford explains, sensing your confusion, “is also a lie detector. Any hint of dishonesty and his gift’ll catch it. Makes him handy in the interrogation room.”

Gifts can be interesting like that sometimes, lining up perfectly with a specific job. A singer with the ability to alter their voice to any pitch, a fireman with an immunity to burns, a veterinarian who can speak to animals–you’ve seen them all. Human lie detector is a new one though, you’ll admit.

Dorrance shoves a hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone vibrating with an incoming text. He scans the message, smirk wiped off his face and replaced with grimness. 

“Right, back to the reason I came over,” he says briskly, tucking his cell away again. “You know how the victims never leave notes?”

“Yes.” Rockford’s listening attentively, eyes narrowed. “What of it?”

“This one did.”

Rockford’s expression doesn’t change, not even a twitch of his brow. His mind though, oh his mind’s the calm before the storm. Something’s beginning to stir awake underneath the surface. Tempted by the reveal, hungry for more details to dig its teeth into. 

For weeks you’ve wondered about the depths unknown to your empathy, about what lurks there. You’ve got a distinct, icy certainty crawling up your spine you’re soon to discover another side of your match previously unseen. 

“Will you come to the scene?” Dorrance asks hopefully.

“Of course. No point sitting at home when there’s an exciting development going on.” Rockford begins slipping his arms through the sleeves of his trench coat, adjusting the collar to his liking. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been down to the wharf.”

“Just try not to piss off anyone, will you? One dead body is enough to deal with as it is.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Rockford says with a wry grin. Then, turning to you, he arches an eyebrow, “Well, Roan, you got any plans this evening?”

You think of your laptop back on the couch, numerous job sites still left to be checked. 

“Uh, no,” you answer, shaking your head. “Not really.”

“Roan was in the military,” your roommate tells the inspector, but his eyes remain held on your face, a speculating glint in them that has you subconsciously straightening up. Almost as if you’re standing at attention. “You saw a lot of violent deaths, didn’t you?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Witnessed several dangerous situations?”

“Worst of the worst. Stuff of pure nightmares.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming heavier. There’s a crime scene needing to be examined, a case to be closed, and yet everything seems to have slowed down all at once. As if the very air itself has frozen solid. And you realize you’re holding your breath, waiting for something.

“Want to see some more?”

An invitation.

Dr. Odair’s been telling you now that you’ve matched and your mind-gift has become more manageable, it’s time to pick up some hobbies. To go out to more places for fun other than just the library and dog park. No doubt she was probably thinking of safe and relaxing options like chess or badminton or pottery classes at the rec center.

The problem though, is that safe and relaxing doesn’t spark a wildfire in your blood, bringing you back to the days where you had a clear purpose to fulfill and problems to deal with head-on. You want another adventure, and here’s one dangling right in front of you, just waiting for you to say—

“Hell yes,” you blurt out, and even without your mind-gift you can tell Rockford’s happy with your choice by the half curl of his mouth and crinkling around his eyes as he asks Dorrance for the address.

The Doubt

Rockford holds the cab door open for you, sliding in after you’ve settled against the plush seat with Banjo secure in your lap. The little mutt’s tail beats a rhythm against your jacket, excited about the trip even if he has no clue the final destination. You’re still not convinced bringing a dog of all creatures to an active crime scene investigation is the wisest move, but let the record show your roommate has a helluva weakness for Banjo’s puppy eyes. 

“Keziah’s team of imbeciles disguised as CSIs are wreaking havoc on the scene as we speak. I highly doubt there’s much more damage Banjo can cause,” Rockford had said with an amused look when you voiced your concern. “Besides, no man left behind. Isn’t that the military creed?”

And well, he wasn’t wrong about that. (Not to mention, you’ve got a pretty big weakness for Banjo’s sweet brown eyes too…)

The drive to the wharf is brief without too much annoying traffic. Outside, the sun’s dipped out of sight and darkness is enveloping the city, street lights blinking on. Inside, it’s quiet except for a country song playing lowly on the radio. The cabbie’s mood is easygoing if not a little bogged down by exhaustion whereas Banjo’s is a bouncy spring of enthusiasm, nose practically pressed against the window as his eyes struggle to keep up with all the sights rolling past. Still, as entertaining as the pup’s emotions are, your mind-gift continues circling back to the man sitting next you like a homing pigeon.

Nothing’s changed within his mindscape during the journey. The calm, almost eerie stillness from before is still in effect. You can tell he’s thinking about something—the man’s never not thinking—but whatever it is clouding his gaze, furrowing his brow, is not disturbing enough to imprint upon your empathy. It’s moments like this one where you wish you were a mind reader, if only for a few seconds. 

“We’re here,” Rockford announces, paying the cabbie his fare.

Scrambling out of the vehicle, you set Banjo down on the ground. While he performs a full-bodied shake, you take in the cluster of police cars and flashing lights and abundance of barricade tape surrounding a warehouse, derelict and foreboding, along the waterfront. The press have also caught wind of the scene, prowling around with their microphones and cameras like vultures. You swallow, subconsciously twisting the leash around your fingers.

You’d wanted an adventure and yet…this is all so very, very different from a battlefield. It’s a whole other form of organized chaos, and it’s terrifying not having the slightest clue how to safely navigate it. 

Your initial fears were misplaced. It won’t be Banjo making a mess. It will be you.

Rockford starts forward, clearly eager to get to work, only to halt after five steps when you fail to follow. He turns around to look you over from head to toe, carefully nudging at your mind-gift as he does so, confusion only deepening when he fails to understand your lack of movement. “Is something the matter?”

You bite your lip, glancing nervously once more between the hive of activity and his steady brown eyes. “I don’t think I belong here.”

Rockford stares at you, the glow of the street light illuminating one side of his face. 

“Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Your head’s already shaking aggressively before a response forms. “N-no, absolutely not!” you say hastily, frantic to assure him of the truth. You close the gap of distance, hoping somehow being closer will remedy the spiraling situation, but when that doesn’t smoothen out the wrinkles on his forehead your empathy reacts by hurling a tangled ball of loyalty-friendship-safety-contentment straight at him. The most desperate of Hail Mary plays.

Rockford sucks in a breath. You watch his expression spasm, knocked off-kilter, before it settles into something as exasperated as it is fond. This time, the nudge against your mind-gift is firmer, the only warning you get before the ball you’d thrown returns and smacks you square in the chest. 

“Oh,” is your immediate reaction, breathless from the intensity.

What was it he had said before? You and him are two halves of the same whole.

And then there’s a warm hand on top of your head, gentle, affectionate, and you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. You blink up at Rockford, heart thudding in your chest.

“That’s right. You,” he says slowly, purposefully, “belong anywhere I am. Banjo, too.”

Banjo woofs, baring his teeth in a snaggletoothed grin, and you’d chuckle at that if you had any air left in your lungs. Not for the first time, you cannot help but marvel at your match’s realness. There’s no such thing as perfection, but you think he comes pretty damn close. 

“Now you’ve done it,” you aim for humor, but you can’t shake the wobble from your voice. “You'll never know a moment’s peace again.”

“Ah, peace is overrated,” Rockford declares with an unconcerned shrug, hand returning to the pocket of his trench coat. “So, we’re in agreement then. We’re stuck with each other.”

“Mhmm, no take backsies.”

You needed this moment, this reassurance. The doubts you hadn’t even known you carried have been firmly put to rest, vanquished by the proof he values the soulbond tying your lives together just as much as you do. 

But despite the importance of this conversation you can’t keep ignoring the flashing lights up ahead forever. Your eyes slide past Rockford, spotting Inspector Dorrance in his grey suit amongst the sea of navy uniformed officers gesturing with his arms.

“Ultimately, it’s your choice where you go,” Rockford says, and it’s clear he’s made up his own mind by the way he turns away from you, resuming his walk towards the scene. 

You watch the dramatic flaring of the bottom of his coat with each step, watch the tapping of his fingers against his left thigh, watch as the man tosses one last remark over his shoulder:

“Keep up, Roan. We both know you’re coming with me.”

By the time he reaches the barricade tape, you and Banjo are right by his side. Exactly where you both belong.

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

you're trans, right? how did you come out to your parents? how did it go? how would you recommend someone go about doing it if they aren't sure how their parents are going to react? (positive to other people's kids being trans, dislike trans women in sports, generally vote democratic). i'm ftm.

sorry if this is too personal or already been answered or something

-- aar

Lee says:

As a matter of fact, I am indeed trans! I specifically identify as genderqueer, non-binary, transmasculine, transgender, and transsexual, although that's neither here nor there.

I actually didn't come out to my parents-- I came out to my friends, and then more publicly to my classmates at school. Then one of my classmates told her parents about me being trans, and that parent met my parents at a party and mentioned that I was trans. Unfortunately it just so happened that while they were at the party and out of the house, I took the opportunity to cut my hair short at home. Yikes!

Anyway, I would fully recommend actually coming out over being outed, if you have the choice, because then you have some control over the start of the conversation and can initially let them know whatever you want them to know.

As always, safety comes first. Do not come out if you do not think you will be safe. If there's any risk of harm or severe negative consequences, you should wait to come out until you're in a more secure position, like being 18 or older, financially independent, not living at home, or at the very least, having a support system in place like a trusted therapist who can help you deal with the repercussions of coming out.

There's a difference between being genuinely unsafe and feeling uncomfortable. Most people will feel their fight-or-flight anxiety response kick in when they have a really scary and stressful conversation, especially when they're talking with someone who means a lot to them and has a lot of authority in their life. But being anxious about their reaction might make something feel unsafe, emotionally, even if you logically know that you are safe and they will not kick you out, abuse you, etc.

That doesn't mean that your feelings aren't real feelings though. If you think that you would not be able to cope if your parents don't immediately and fully accept and support you, then maybe it isn't the right time to come out either. Your emotional well being is important, and if you would be unsafe as a result of mental illness/extreme distress after coming out (if your parent's reaction isn't what you had hoped it would be) then you should consider that to be just as important as if you were physically in danger from an external source. After you've had some time and therapy and got re-stabilized then you can reconsider coming out.

Let's say that you've decided to proceed with coming out. The next step is to continue to gauge their attitudes. You've already observed some of their views. This can be a good starting point to understand how they might react. Remember, though, that parents' reactions to their own child can sometimes be different from their general opinions. So they might be fine with your trans friends, but not be fine with you being trans yourself.

You can't fully predict what will happen, but making sure you have a sense of what they currently think might help a little-- if the topic hasn't come up in over a year and you're working off of what you remember them saying far in the past, it's possible their views have changed by now.

But either way, you'll never really know what will happen after you come out, so if you want to do it, you just gotta go for it.

Now it's time to prepare. You may want to have resources ready for your parents, so looking to find those resources should be your next step. Are there local support groups for parents of trans kids and do you know of any peers whose parents have attended? They might have questions or misconceptions about being a trans man, so be ready to share some basic 101 information with them and don't assume they understand what it really means to be trans. Websites, books, or even contact information for a knowledgeable counselor can be helpful.

Think about what you want to say beforehand. What's the point of coming out? Do you want something to change, like having them call you a different name, use different pronouns, buy you different clothes? Do you want them to understand the nuances of your identity and know the right terms and words to use and what terms and words are offensive? Think about all of your goals, and then write down the key points you want to get down.

This is the time to consider your answers to the questions they might ask you, like "how long have you felt this way," "do you plan on medically transitioning," "what does this mean for your sexual orientation," etc. Even if you don't know all the answers yet and are still figuring yourself out, you want to have an idea of what you'll tell them, even if it's just "I don't know yet, I'm still figuring it out".

I'm personally not a fan of gimmicky/"cute" ways of coming out when you aren't sure whether your family will be accepting. So I would recommend just using a letter to initially come out if you're worried about getting overwhelmed or forgetting important details, and being prepared to follow that up by having a sit-down conversation.

Have a support system in place. This could be friends, other family members, teachers, counselors, or online communities who understand and support your identity. I always recommend scheduling an event with friends either for directly after you come out so you have an excuse to leave the conversation and go, or at least for the next day so you can decompress and discuss it with people who support you.

When you're as ready as you can be, choose the right moment. Find a time when your parents are likely to be calm and not preoccupied with other stressors (so not on their birthday, a major holiday, etc) and either leave the letter for them or ask them if they are available to have an important conversation.

This might not always be possible, but a peaceful environment can facilitate a better conversation. Choose a time and place where you feel safe and where you won't be interrupted. This could be at home during a quiet weekend afternoon, an evening after dinner, or during a walk together, depending on your family dynamics.

Finally, it's time to have the conversation. You should be clear and direct. Tell them "I'm transgender and that means I feel I am a man," or whatever language you feel comfortable with. Don't hint at it because they might not know what you're trying to tell them, just tell them exactly what you want to say.

It’s okay to admit if you don���t have all the answers yet. Transitioning is a journey, and it's fine to be figuring things out as you go.

But if that isn't the case for you, and you are sure, then you should be ready to stand up for yourself and tell them that. They might react positively, negatively, or be unsure, but their feelings are not your fault/your responsibility because you're living true to yourself. It's okay if they need time to process the information, but don't back down and let them railroad you into saying that you're not sure or didn't mean it if you are sure and do mean it.

Finally, be prepared for the long haul. Understand that your parents might need time to fully grasp and accept your identity. Patience can be challenging but is often necessary since it can take several months to years before they come around and truly support you. That means that one conversation is usually not enough. Be open to ongoing discussions and expect them to be sometimes awkward.

We have a coming out page with more info, although some of the links are old and broke (I promise I'll get to fixing it some day!)

Followers, any advice for anon?

[keithsbasementprintingpress]

𝖏𝖚𝖑𝖞 19, 1988

A Letter from the Editor:

As I have already expressed publicly, I am deeply sorry for my absence. It has been a trying time for all of us, and no one knoWs better than me tHat communities neEd true journalism at the darkEst hour. I, however, have been sick with worry at the hospitaL for those victims of the carnival explosions. My daily chEck-ins with an individual very close to me have taken priority over production of KBPP. But rest assured, I have been collecting infoRmation. A sincere thank-you to all who have contributed tips. Journalism is borne on the back of nosy neighbors!

– Keith Johnson, Editor in Chief

FOURTH OF JULY DISASTER

The annual Hawkins Fourth of July Carnival is supposed to be a time of food, festivities, and fun to bring the town together and celebrate our nation! This year, it ended in disaster. Our community is grieving and desperately looking for answers. From where I’m standing, the answers couldn’t be clearer. KNOWN CRIMINALS Eddie Munson and Billy Hargrove were arrested for causing the explosion that stole five of Hawkins’ finest. Sources say that several people were hallucinating, and gem caused Barb Holland, Jack Foreman, Adam Richards, Melissa Armstrong, Heather Holloway, and Billy Hargrove to vomit a black, acidic gooey substance. As if you needed another reason to stay far away, folks!!! 

Reports of a bomb at the carnival have been confirmed by local authorities. Thankfully, it was a FAKE. If you ask me… it seems pretty convenient that everyone was distracted by the bomb while Eddie and Billy ran amuck with their murderous matches. And the kicker? An eyewitness saw none other than Jim Hopper near the bomb during setup. 

Please see below for the official eulogies for those gone too soon. 

DOES HAWKINS NEED A NARCOTICS ANONYMOUS CHAPTER?

Many of you know we have a new face in town, Dr. Gabriel Diaz. The man has run several individual and group therapy sessions with varying degrees of success– and perhaps it’s time to be responsive to the town’s needs. When can we get court-mandated addiction counseling for these gem junkies?! How many lives need to be claimed before someone steps up!?

***

SUPPORT LOCAL BUSINESS: BENNY’S DINER IS BACK AND… THE SAME AS EVER!

This is not a paid advertisement. 

***

WATCH OUT FOR GEM JUNKIES: IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING

You’ve heard the whispers around town, you’ve seen the faces of gem… but do you realize that it’s closer than you think? The demise of our small-town safety and our bustling economy? If these people aren’t stopped, the consequences are catastrophic!

In the last three weeks, gem junkies have:

- BROKEN INTO THE HUNTING AND CAMPING STORE. Stolen merchandise includes a hunting knife, a bang stick, a gun, and several first aid kits. - VANDALIZED SCOTT CLARKE’S MEMORIAL. Green spray paint and incoherent ramblings of someone obviously on drugs are reported on the scene of the memorial at Hawkins Middle. - ENGAGED IN ANIMAL CRUELTY AND GRAND THEFT AUTO. In the middle of the night, a group of junkies raided the junkyard, rendering several dogs severely injured. And then? They hotwired a school bus and abandoned it by the border.  - TRIPPED THE ALARM AT HAWKINS LAB. What do gem dealers want with the old abandoned lab? What did they take? What are they going to use it for?

As the Keith’s Basement Printing Press works night and day to provide answers to your questions, keep these helpful safety tips in mind:

- Don’t eat or drink unknown substances. Pack your lunch!

- Don’t talk to strangers.

- Look out for people wearing multiple silver rings– it’s common in the gem community.

- Don’t walk alone. The buddy system is tried and true!

- Talk to your kids about drugs. It’s never too early to be afraid.

- And above all: IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING!

This has been the second edition of Keith’s Basement Printing Press. As we are dedicated to journalism in the highest quality, please don’t hesitate to leave tips in our ask box or on our submit page.

Keith Johnson, EIC

[sudheervanguri]

Parexel, a globally recognized leader in clinical research and regulatory services, is currently seeking qualified candidates for the position of Drug Safety Associate II in Mohali, India. This role is pivotal for individuals with a strong background in pharmacovigilance and a passion for contributing to the global healthcare industry. If you have a Bachelor’s degree in Science or Medicine and relevant experience in the pharmaceutical industry, this opportunity could be the perfect fit for you. About Parexel At Parexel, we believe in making a difference in the world of healthcare. Our work spans across clinical trials, regulatory consulting, and market access, all driven by a commitment to improve global health. Every role at Parexel contributes to the development of therapies that benefit patients worldwide. As a Drug Safety Associate II, you will play a key role in ensuring the safety and efficacy of these therapies, working in a collaborative environment that values empathy and excellence. Job Role: Drug Safety Associate II Location: Mohali, India Position: Drug Safety Associate II Qualification: Bachelor’s Degree in Science or Medicine (or related disciplines) Experience: 2-3 years of pharmaceutical industry experience, with a focus on pharmacovigilance Skills: Strong analytical, problem-solving, communication, and organizational skills; familiarity with GxP requirements and global pharmacovigilance Key Responsibilities As a Drug Safety Associate II at Parexel, your responsibilities will include: Drug Safety Support: Assist in development of project specific safety procedures, workflows and template Assist in project specific safety database setup, development of data entry guidelines, and user acceptance testing Triage incoming reports for completeness, legibility, and validity Electronic documentation and quality control of drug safety information Data entry of case reports into safety database / tracking system Request follow-up and perform query management Coding of data in the safety database Writing case narratives Create and maintain project specific working files, case report files and project central files Assist with additional Drug Safety Specialist and/or Safety Service Project Leader (SSPL) activities as required Inform Line Manager (LM)/Team Manager, Safety Services Project Leader (SSPL) or Project Leader (PL) and Regional Head of PV Operations of potential change-in-scope of projects Support of Medical Directors/Safety Physicians, as needed, in medical monitoring activities Participate in client and investigator meetings as required Attend internal, drug safety and project specific training sessions Perform literature searches Preparation for, participation in, and follow up on audits and inspections Delegate work as appropriate to Drug Safety Assistants Assistance in development of Expedited Reporting Procedures Assistance with registration with relevant authorities for electronic reporting on behalf of sponsor Assistance with setting up and deployment of worldwide reporting as required to regulatory authorities, CECs, local ECs, and investigator sites (electronic and hard copy) Submission of safety reports to investigators via ISIS (International Safety Information System) Assist with measuring investigative site performance in conducting required tasks in ISIS Tracking and filing of submission cases as required Assist with unblinding of SUSARs, as required Support collection and review of metrics for measuring reporting compliance [caption id="attachment_100753" align="aligncenter" width="640"] Parexel Pharmacovigilance Vacancies | Drug Safety Associate II[/caption] Skills: Analytical and problem-solving skills Able to perform database/literature searches Excellent interpersonal skills Excellent verbal / written communication skills Excellent organizational and prioritization skills Ability to work collaboratively and effectively in a team environment

Client focused approach to work Experience with computer applications Knowledge and Experience: Related experience gained in a healthcare environment is an advantage Eligibility Criteria Candidates applying for this position should possess: Educational Background: A Bachelor’s Degree in Science, Medicine, or related disciplines. Industry Experience: At least 2-3 years of experience in the pharmaceutical industry, with a focus on pharmacovigilance. Experience in quality compliance or case processing is highly desirable. Technical Skills: Proficiency in Microsoft Excel and PowerPoint, and the ability to perform database and literature searches. How to Apply If you meet the eligibility criteria and are interested in this opportunity, you can apply directly through the Parexel Careers Portal.

[yourlocalpsychiatrist]

How to Find and Access Psychiatrists Who Accept Medicaid

Medicaid plays a critical role in providing access to mental health services, including psychiatric care. However, navigating the system to find psychiatrists who accept Medicaid can be challenging. This article will guide you through the steps to find a psychiatrist under Medicaid, understand what services are covered, and maximize the benefits provided by this essential healthcare program.

Understanding Medicaid’s Coverage for Psychiatric Services

Medicaid offers comprehensive coverage for mental health services, including psychiatric evaluations, therapy, and medication management. The specific services covered can vary by state since Medicaid is a joint federal and state program. Generally, Medicaid covers:

Psychiatric Evaluations: Initial assessments conducted by a psychiatrist to diagnose mental health conditions.

Medication Management: Ongoing treatment where psychiatrists prescribe and monitor psychiatric medications.

Individual and Group Therapy: Sessions with licensed mental health professionals, including psychiatrists, to address various mental health issues.

Inpatient and Outpatient Services: Coverage for hospital stays or visits to psychiatric facilities, depending on the severity of the condition.

It is essential to check your state’s Medicaid program for specific details regarding coverage and any limitations or copays that might apply.

How to Find a Psychiatrist Who Accepts Medicaid

Finding a psychiatrist who accepts Medicaid can be a daunting task due to varying acceptance rates among providers. Here are some effective strategies:

Medicaid Provider Directory: Start by searching your state’s Medicaid provider directory, which lists all healthcare professionals, including psychiatrists, who accept Medicaid.

Local Health Departments: Contact your local health department or community health center. These organizations often have a list of providers who accept Medicaid and can help you find mental health services.

Ask for Referrals: Primary care physicians or other mental health professionals, such as therapists or social workers, can provide referrals to psychiatrists who accept Medicaid.

Online Directories and Resources: Websites like Zocdoc or Psychology Today allow you to filter search results based on insurance accepted, including Medicaid. These platforms often provide additional details about the psychiatrist’s specialties and patient reviews.

Telepsychiatry Services: Consider using telehealth services, which have become more prevalent. Many psychiatrists offer virtual appointments, and Medicaid covers telepsychiatry in many states.

Maximizing Medicaid Benefits for Psychiatric Care

To get the most out of your Medicaid coverage for psychiatric care, it’s important to understand how to navigate the system effectively:

Stay Informed About Coverage: Keep updated on the latest Medicaid benefits in your state, as coverage rules and services can change. Understanding these changes can help you access new services or better manage your care.

Pre-authorization Requirements: Some psychiatric services may require pre-authorization from Medicaid. Make sure to check with your provider and Medicaid before beginning treatment to avoid unexpected costs.

Utilize Integrated Care Programs: Many states offer integrated care programs through Medicaid, which combine physical and mental health services. These programs can provide more coordinated care and improve health outcomes.

Seek Community Support: Join local or online support groups for individuals using Medicaid for mental health services. These communities can provide insights, resources, and emotional support as you navigate your care options.

Challenges and Considerations

While Medicaid is a vital resource for many, it comes with its own set of challenges:

Limited Availability of Providers: Not all psychiatrists accept Medicaid due to lower reimbursement rates compared to private insurance. This can limit your options, particularly in rural areas.

Wait Times: Even when you find a psychiatrist who accepts Medicaid, wait times for appointments can be long due to high demand.

Service Limitations: Some services may have limits on the number of visits or require specific diagnoses to qualify for coverage. It’s crucial to know these limits to avoid disruption in your care.

FAQ

Q: Can Medicaid cover the cost of psychiatric medications? A: Yes, Medicaid generally covers psychiatric medications. However, there may be limitations on the types of medications covered, or a prior authorization might be required for certain prescriptions.

Q: Are telepsychiatry services covered by Medicaid? A: Telepsychiatry is covered by Medicaid in most states, especially after the expansion of telehealth services due to the COVID-19 pandemic. It’s recommended to check with your state’s Medicaid office for specific details.

Q: What should I do if no psychiatrists in my area accept Medicaid? A: If local psychiatrists do not accept Medicaid, consider telepsychiatry services or seek help from community mental health centers, which often provide care on a sliding scale or through Medicaid.

Q: How can I ensure that my Medicaid benefits are not interrupted? A: Regularly renew your Medicaid coverage and stay in contact with your state’s Medicaid office to ensure there are no lapses in your benefits. Also, keep records of all communications with healthcare providers regarding your Medicaid coverage.

Conclusion

Navigating Medicaid to find psychiatric care can be complex, but understanding your coverage and knowing where to seek help can make a significant difference in your mental health journey. By staying informed and proactive, you can maximize your Medicaid benefits and access the psychiatric services you need.

[fhjdbvhj]

Understanding Detoxification

To find a detox near meit's important to consider your specific needs and preferences, such as the type of detox (e.g., alcohol, drug, holistic), the level of medical support required, and any other special considerations like location or amenities. Here's a general guide on how to find a detox center:

1. Understanding Detoxification

Detoxification, commonly known as detox, is the process of removing toxic substances from the body. It is a crucial step in the treatment of substance abuse and addiction. Detox can involve medical supervision, medication-assisted treatment, and supportive care to manage withdrawal symptoms and ensure safety.

2. Types of Detox Programs

Inpatient Detox: Patients stay at a facility where they receive 24/7 medical supervision and support. This is often recommended for those with severe addictions or those at risk of serious withdrawal symptoms.

Outpatient Detox: Patients visit the facility during the day but live at home. This option may be suitable for those with less severe addictions or strong social support systems.

Holistic Detox: This approach focuses on natural and alternative therapies, such as acupuncture, nutrition therapy, and mindfulness practices, in addition to conventional medical treatments.

3. Finding a Detox Center

Online Searches: Use search engines and online directories to find detox centers in your area. Keywords like "detox center near me" or "substance abuse treatment near me" can be helpful.

Consult Healthcare Providers: Your doctor or healthcare provider can recommend reputable detox facilities based on your medical history and specific needs.

Contact Local Health Departments or Substance Abuse Hotlines: They can provide information on available detox services and programs.

Insurance Providers: Check with your insurance provider for a list of covered facilities.

4. Evaluating Detox Centers

Accreditation and Licensing: Ensure the facility is accredited by reputable organizations and licensed by state or local health authorities.

Staff Qualifications: Look for centers with experienced medical professionals, including doctors, nurses, and therapists, specialized in addiction treatment.

Treatment Approaches: Review the detox methods and therapies offered to see if they align with your preferences and medical needs.

Aftercare Support: A good detox program should offer or refer to aftercare services, such as counseling, support groups, or rehab programs.

5. Preparing for Detox

Medical Evaluation: Undergo a thorough medical assessment to determine the appropriate level of care and treatment plan.

Personal Arrangements: Make necessary arrangements for time off work, childcare, or pet care if needed.

Packing Essentials: If attending an inpatient program, pack comfortable clothing, personal hygiene items, and any prescribed medications.

Conclusion

Finding the right detox center is a crucial step toward recovery. By understanding the different types of programs and what to look for in a facility, you can make an informed decision that best supports your journey to sobriety.

[saurabhsharmadigitalmkt]

Home Care Services in Los Angeles: Comprehensive Guide

Home care services in Los Angeles offer a range of personalized healthcare and support options tailored to individuals who prefer to receive medical treatment and assistance in the comfort of their own homes. This guide explores the various types of home care services available in Los Angeles, their benefits, how to access them, and considerations for choosing the right services for your needs.

Understanding Home Care Services in Los Angeles

What are Home Care Services?

Home care services encompass a variety of medical and non-medical services provided in a person's home to promote health, independence, and quality of life. These services are typically delivered by trained professionals, including nurses, therapists, aides, and caregivers.

Types of Home Care Services Available

1. Medical Home Care Services

Skilled Nursing: Registered nurses (RNs) or licensed vocational nurses (LVNs) provide medical care, administer medications, and monitor health conditions.

Physical Therapy: Therapists help individuals regain mobility, strength, and function following illness, injury, or surgery.

Occupational Therapy: Therapists assist with daily tasks and activities to enhance independence and quality of life.

2. Non-Medical Home Care Services

Personal Care: Assistance with activities of daily living (ADLs) such as bathing, dressing, grooming, and toileting.

Companion Care: Companionship, social interaction, and emotional support to alleviate loneliness and promote mental well-being.

Homemaking Services: Help with light housekeeping, meal preparation, grocery shopping, and running errands.

Benefits of Home Care Services in Los Angeles

1. Comfort and Familiarity

Stay at Home: Receive care in a familiar environment, reducing stress and promoting comfort during recovery or treatment.

Personalized Care: Services are tailored to individual needs and preferences, ensuring a personalized approach to healthcare.

2. Convenience and Flexibility

Flexible Scheduling: Services can be scheduled according to your convenience, accommodating personal and professional commitments.

No Commute Required: Eliminate the need for travel to healthcare facilities, saving time and reducing transportation challenges.

3. Comprehensive Support

Holistic Care: Access to a range of services that address both medical and non-medical needs, promoting overall well-being.

Family Involvement: Encourage family participation in caregiving and support, fostering a collaborative approach to care.

How to Access Home Care Services in Los Angeles

1. Referrals and Recommendations

Healthcare Providers: Consult with your primary care physician or specialist for referrals to reputable home care agencies.

Community Resources: Utilize local resources such as senior centers, hospitals, or online directories to find accredited home care providers.

2. Research and Screening

Credential Verification: Verify that home care providers are licensed, certified, and accredited by relevant authorities.

Client Reviews: Check client reviews and testimonials to assess the quality of care and reputation of home care agencies.

Considerations for Choosing Home Care Services

1. Personal Needs Assessment

Evaluate Your Needs: Determine the specific services and level of care required based on your health condition, recovery goals, and lifestyle.

Consultation: Schedule consultations with home care agencies to discuss your needs, preferences, and expectations for care.

2. Cost and Insurance Coverage

Financial Considerations: Understand the costs associated with home care services, including fees for different types of care and payment options.

Insurance Verification: Check if your health insurance or long-term care insurance covers home care services and inquire about any out-of-pocket expenses.

Conclusion

Home care services in Los Angeles offer a comprehensive range of medical and non-medical support options designed to enhance quality of life and promote independence for individuals in their own homes. Whether you require skilled nursing care, therapy services, or assistance with daily activities, home care agencies provide personalized care tailored to your unique needs and preferences. By exploring available services, conducting thorough research, and consulting with healthcare professionals, you can find the right home care services that meet your requirements and support your health and well-being effectively in Los Angeles. Prioritize comfort, convenience, and quality care to ensure a positive experience and optimal outcomes with home care services.

[seasonsdental7]

Elevating Your Wellness Journey with 4 Seasons Dental: Expertise in Dental Sleep Medicine Solutions & Oral Therapy in Milton-Freewater, OR

In the quaint locale of Milton-Freewater, OR, there's a revolutionary approach to enhancing sleep quality and overall well-being, thanks to the dedicated services of 4 Seasons Dental. Specializing in Dental Sleep Medicine Solutions OR and Oral Therapy, 4 Seasons Dental stands at the forefront of addressing sleep-related disorders with advanced dental methodologies. As an integral part of the community, the practice has carved a niche in transforming lives, fostering improved health and wellness through the power of restful sleep.

Unpacking Dental Sleep Medicine Solutions

The term "Dental Sleep Medicine" is a specialized area within dentistry focusing on the management of sleep-related disorders, such as obstructive sleep apnea (OSA), through the use of oral appliance therapy and other dental interventions. Oral Therapy Milton Freewater OR, a condition characterized by repeated interruptions in breathing during sleep, profoundly impacts an individual’s health, leading to chronic fatigue, cardiovascular issues, and diminished quality of life.

4 Seasons Dental in Milton-Freewater, OR, offers cutting-edge Dental Sleep Medicine Solutions, positioning the practice as a go-to authority in the realm of sleep therapy. The team, driven by a profound understanding of sleep dynamics and dental-related interventions, provides personalized care aimed at mitigating the symptoms of sleep apnea and other disorders.

Oral Appliance Therapy: A Closer Look

At the core of Dental Sleep Medicine Solutions is Oral Appliance Therapy, a revolutionary alternative for individuals unable to tolerate Continuous Positive Airway Pressure (CPAP) machines. Oral appliances, designed to be bespoke for each patient, work by maintaining an open, unobstructed airway in the throat during sleep. These devices are not only effective but are lauded for their convenience, comfort, and ease of use.

4 Seasons Dental’s expertise in Oral Therapy in Milton-Freewater, OR, extends beyond the mere provision of appliances. The practice prides itself on a comprehensive approach that includes initial consultations, custom fitting sessions, and ongoing support to ensure optimal effectiveness and comfort. This dedication to excellence underscores the practice’s commitment to elevating patient care and surpassing expectations.

The Benefits of Sleep Therapy

The ramifications of untreated sleep disorders stretch far and wide, impacting physical health, emotional well-being, and cognitive function. Sleep therapy, particularly when facilitated by experts like those at 4 Seasons Dental, offers a pathway to recuperation and revitalization.

Patients who have undergone Dental Sleep Medicine Solutions often report significant improvements in their sleep quality, daytime energy levels, and overall life satisfaction. These positive outcomes are mirrored in the reduction of risks for heart disease, stroke, and hypertension, ailments often associated with poor sleep health.

Furthermore, Oral Therapy improves the mental and emotional facets of well-being. A good night’s sleep can enhance mood, sharpen focus, and foster resilience against stress, anxiety, and depression. Hence, the work of 4 Seasons Dental is not only about treating sleep disorders but fundamentally about improving the quality of life.

A Community-Centric Approach

What sets 4 Seasons Dental apart in Milton-Freewater, OR, is not just their specialized services but their holistic, patient-centric ethos. The practice understands that each individual's needs are unique, and as such, personalized care is paramount.

From the moment patients step into their welcoming clinic, they are greeted by a professional, compassionate team ready to embark on a shared journey towards better sleep and health. The collaborative approach to patient care, involving detailed assessments and tailored treatment plans, embodies the practice's commitment to community wellness.

Conclusion: A New Dawn with 4 Seasons Dental

In Milton-Freewater, OR, 4 Seasons Dental is redefining the landscape of Dental Sleep Medicine Solutions and Oral Therapy. Through innovative treatment options, a deep-seated commitment to patient care, and a relentless pursuit of excellence, the practice sets the benchmark for sleep-related wellness interventions.

As sleep continues to gain recognition as a critical pillar of health, services like those offered at 4 Seasons Dental become increasingly vital. For those afflicted by sleep disorders, the message is clear: hope, help, and healing are within reach, thanks to the dedicated professionals and comprehensive solutions available.

In an age where the quest for wellness encompasses a holistic view that includes mental, physical, and emotional health, the work of 4 Seasons Dental stands out as a beacon of hope. By linking dental health with sleep quality and overall well-being, the practice charts a course towards a brighter, more vibrant future for its patients.

Embrace the journey towards improved sleep and wellness with 4 Seasons Dental at your side. Discover how Dental Sleep Medicine Solutions and Oral Therapy in Milton-Freewater, OR, can transform your life, one restful night at a time.

[businesspromoting]

Drug deaddiction centre Kolkata

A drug de-addiction center kolkata is a facility that specializes in the treatment of individuals who are addicted to drugs. These centers offer a range of services and programs designed to help individuals overcome their addiction and achieve long-term recovery. Here are the main components and considerations when choosing a drug de-addiction center:

Key Components of Drug De-Addiction Centers

Assessment and Diagnosis:

Purpose: To understand the extent of addiction and any co-occurring mental health issues.

Process: Comprehensive evaluation by medical and mental health professionals.

Detoxification (Detox):

Purpose: To safely manage withdrawal symptoms during the initial phase of quitting drug use.

Process: Medically supervised detox that may include medications to ease withdrawal symptoms.

Inpatient/Residential Treatment:

Purpose: Provide a structured environment for individuals with severe addiction.

Services: 24/7 medical care, individual and group therapy, educational programs, and holistic therapies.

Duration: Typically ranges from 30 to 90 days, but can be longer if needed.

Outpatient Treatment:

Purpose: Allow individuals to live at home while receiving treatment.

Services: Scheduled therapy sessions, counseling, and educational programs.

Suitability: Best for those with less severe addiction or those transitioning from inpatient care.

Counseling and Therapy:

Types: Cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), motivational interviewing, family therapy, and contingency management.

Goal: Address psychological aspects of addiction, develop coping strategies, and prevent relapse.

Medication-Assisted Treatment (MAT):

Purpose: To reduce cravings and manage withdrawal symptoms.

Medications: Methadone, buprenorphine, and naltrexone are commonly used for opioid addiction; other medications may be used for different substances.

Support Groups and Peer Support:

Examples: Narcotics Anonymous (NA), SMART Recovery, and other peer support groups.

Purpose: Provide social support and a sense of community through shared experiences.

Aftercare and Relapse Prevention:

Purpose: To support individuals in maintaining sobriety after formal treatment ends.

Services: Ongoing therapy, support group meetings, and regular check-ins with counselors.

Holistic and Alternative Therapies:

Types: Yoga, meditation, acupuncture, art therapy, and equine therapy.

Purpose: Address overall well-being and complement traditional treatment approaches.

Choosing a Drug De-Addiction Center

When selecting a drug de-addiction center, consider the following factors:

Accreditation and Licensing: Ensure the facility is accredited by relevant health authorities and staffed by licensed professionals.

Treatment Approaches: Look for centers that use evidence-based practices and offer a comprehensive range of services.

Specialized Programs: Consider centers that offer tailored programs for specific populations (e.g., adolescents, women, dual diagnosis patients).

Success Rates and Reviews: Research the center’s success rates and read reviews or testimonials from former patients.

Location: Decide whether you prefer a local center or one in a different area for a fresh start.

Cost and Insurance: Check if the center accepts your insurance and understand the costs involved. Many centers offer financing options or sliding scale fees.

Environment and Amenities: Visit the facility if possible to ensure it provides a comfortable and supportive environment.

Getting Help

If you or someone you know needs help with drug addiction, the first step is to reach out to a healthcare provider or directly contact a drug de-addiction center. Early intervention and the right support are crucial for successful recovery.

Additional Resources

SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration): Provides a national helpline and a treatment locator tool.

National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA): Offers resources and information on addiction treatment.

Local Health Departments: Can provide information on nearby treatment facilities and support services.

[lostandfoundbook]

Chapter 22

Read it on AO3

Read it on Wattpad

The days passing slowly started to mend together as Alex moped around in her hospital room all day. Staring out at the birds through her windows, or writing poetry on her phone, she was slowly running out of activities to do to keep her busy. She talked to her friends as often as she could, but even they were busier than she was.

She imagined all the things she could be doing right now. Dancing; singing; auditioning for theatre; writing more music in the studio; working on music videos; working on visualizers; celebrating the release of her single; furthering her relationship with Oliver; watching Benji's play

Speaking of Benji's play, Alex had successfully convinced Avery to ask Oliver to go. It was an extended game of messenger, but she was thankful that it was happening. She wasn't able to go, and she needed every detail about what happened from Oliver. She didn't want him there as a reviewer, but a friend of a friend. He didn't do this very often, but Alex knew he'd do it for her.

He'd make his way down to the theatre and talk to Benji, probably congratulate him on his performance while patting a hand on his back. Alex could envision it now. The two men standing side by side, one in a suit and one in a costume. Maybe he'll get a playbill signed for her. She'd have to ask him.

She ran a hand through her ratty, tangled mess of a head of hair. It was greasy and it screamed in need for a shower. It had been over a week of sponge bathes, over a week of bed rotting, and over a week of morphine. It had been too long. Her only reprise was the fact that physical therapy was today, meaning she could get rooms transferred if she could just prove that she could care for herself.

A piece of her wondered how that would even be possible when she smells the way she does. It would be a dead giveaway that she needed help. She brushed the thought away to the side and pulled her phone out. She'd ultimately given up on her no phone rule. That was impossible here, especially when she didn't want to cart all her journals into the room. She could make do with her phone.

She scrolled through her social media's again. She had taken to retweeting a few words of support, and she was considering making another post. Many news stations had picked up her words, and she was even in the local news. She watched one night as the glow of the TV illuminated her body in the bed, her own face popping on screen for just a moment. A selfie.

A truly surreal experience. She hadn't tried to reach out to her managers or PR yet, because that seemed like something you do when you're more stable. Something to do when you're getting your career on track. Alex couldn't focus on her career, not right now. She needed to focus on herself, and Greg and Charles weren't apart of that.

This was why she liked Oliver, in the end. He understood her. He didn't ask her about work, or about anything else that didn't matter. When they talked, it was focused on the brutalities of the world and what they both were forced to experience. It was light hearted, sometimes, sure. But it was the cruel truth laid out exactly as it had happened. It was hard not to gain feelings when you talk about things so serious like that.

Alex let a sigh escape her lips as she scrolled over towards Instagram. She slid over to the 'Story' feature and look a photo of her IVs. She had two in her arm today, one in each vein. She didn't know what they did. Alex had never been keen on listening to those in authority. She figured that's how most of her issues with Oliver started in the first place.

He was the ultimate authority. He ruled over a large majority of the spheres she existed in, whether it was music, theatre, or performing. He was always there as the grueling force that halted her progress to a swift stop. She tried to understand it, but she truly didn't. He had tried to explain it to her in the past, but it didn't make sense.

He said at one point that he was trying to fix it, though. It was an interesting way of phrasing it. Fix it, as if he had broken it or done something wrong. Alex believed there was a reason she wasn't selected during the Survive showcasing, she just didn't know what that reason was. Was she not good enough? Was it her image at the time? Was it the fighting? The drugs? Everette? What, in the end, pulled her progress swiftly to a close?

She was pulled out of her train of thoughts by a knock on the door. "Hello?" She called out as an older man in a white lab coat walked in. It was a doctor, but she didn't recognize him as one of her own doctors from any of her stays here, including this current one. He was older, maybe in his 50s, and he had round glasses sat across his nose.

He adjusted his glasses as he spoke, walking towards her bed frame. "Hi, Ms. Gray! I'm Dr. Graham, I'll be your physical therapist! Are you ready to be wheeled down there?" Alex sat up in her bed, feeling her stitches ache a bit as she did. "Yes, I am so ready to get out of here."

He let out a chuckle and walked towards the end of her bed. He unlocked a few switches on the bed before walking towards the headboard and doing the same. "Well, let's first assess where you are in your treatment. Then, we can talk about getting you back up to your suite."

Alex nodded as the bed began to move, rolling out of the room. She and all her IVs were pulled into the hallway and she saw as the white and brown room slowly transformed into a desolate white fluorescent lit landscape of long corridors and the view of other patients rooms. "We'll be taking you to the PT room a floor up" The doctor said as he pushed her bed along the hallway, furthering the distance between Alex's new hospital room and her.

"Will my bed even fit in the elevator?" She asked out, looking around at the walls. There was the occasional painting thrown up on the wall, attempting to bring life into a lifeless situation. Up in the corners of the hallway, Alex could see a circular mirror hooked up to the wall to see all directions. She could see herself in it, and how small she looked.

They made it to the end of the hallways where the elevators were. "Of course they will. The elevators were made with all bed sizes in mind. Imagine if there was no room to transport somebody to surgery and we had to carry them!"

A small smile danced across my face as the thought of doctors having to wait for the elevator because some patient was being hauled up. She stopped to consider if she had ever been here before as she her bed and IV were pushed into the elevator with the doctor standing near the door. "How far is it?" Alex asked as the doctor pushed a button on the elevator.

He turned to face her for a moment before turning away again. "Just up a floor and then down the hall. It's not too far." and with the ding of the elevator, she felt it start to move. She never particularly loved elevators. The feeling of weightlessness in her body, uncontrollable as it shot up in the sky. It was uncomfortable, but it was truly a different experience while lying down. It was like flying.

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath in. She could feel everything in her body, all her toes, the heels of her feet, her lowers legs and her knees, her upper tights, her pelvis, her torso, her wound, everything. It all felt weightless as they lifted up in the building, before meeting that loud 'Ding!' noise that indicated the doors were going to open.

She heard the creaking of the doors sliding open, and she watched as people made their way away from the doors to make room for her doctor to wheel her in. "Now, when we get to the room, I want you to sit up, but don't stand yet. I want you to be able to have a walker before you do."

Alex let out a small a grumble and a groan. "A walker? What am I, 85?"

He gave her a curious look as he pushed her down the hallway. "If you stand up and your body can't handle the pressure, you could double over and rip your stitches clear open." Alex physically cringed at the thought of that. That would hurt. A lot. "Then, they would have to re-stitch you up, and you'd be right back at square one of recovery."

She let out a sigh that came from the depths of her soul.  "Okay, a walker it is."

* * *

Her therapy session wasn't bad, per-say. Alex had to use the walker, and she waltz around the room with her hand on one bar of the grey walker and one hand on her IV bar trailing it along her. She got her steps in (About 150 of them) before her doctor told her to stop. He asked to check out her stitches, and she let him. They had held up just fine.

Next, she moved onto a blue ball that looked like it was made for yoga. The doctor told her it helped with squatting motions, to make sure she could bend over if needed. To make sure her core muscles were healing properly. He told her a LOT of things that she tried not to focus on as she bounced up and down on the ball.

"I'm doing pretty good, aren't I?" she would ask out to him, before being met with a nod before he'd go back towards his checklist. It wasn't very affirming to Alex. It didn't tell her one way or the other if she would be getting out of here. She was stressed, and tired, and by the time she made it back to her room, she was convinced she would be stuck there forever.

She could feel the anxiety picking up in the pit of her stomach, brewing there like a monster looking for it's great escape. She wanted to get out of the room. She was going crazy. She had to pass her physical therapy and get out of here.

She ripped the covers off of her bed and looked at the gown over her body. It was white with blue splotches over it, and she was wearing shorts underneath. The back drew together in two pieces and tied onto one another in small little bows, exposing a strip of skin down the middle of her back. She brushed her legs over the edge of her beds and wiggled her toes.

She jumped off the bed and landed her feet flat on the floor. She steadied her balance and noticed how she didn't need the walker. She didn't collapse underneath herself. She was stronger than they assumed. She paced around her room a little bit, and stood up straight, stretching her arms. She could feel her stitches sting a little bit, so she lessened how much pressure she put into her joints as she stretched.

She walked over towards the window and looked out it. It was the first time she could get a good view of the entire area. She put her hand up to it and felt the coldness of the glass beneath her fingertips. She wanted to be out there with all the people walking along the sidewalks, skating down on their skateboards, and living their lives freely. She didn't want to be trapped in here.

She turned back to face the door. She was still connected to her IVs, but nothing was stopping her from walking out of the room. She hadn't been hooked back up to everything since her PT session, and she wasn't on a catheter anymore. She could just use the excuse of using the bathroom.

She grabbed ahold of the metal bar that held all of her fluid bags and IV lines and trailed it along with her across the room. It was loud and clutter-y, and it took up a lot of space. It clunked and clattered as she moved and the sound of the wheels against the floor was grating. She would be caught out immediately, but at least she would make it out of her room. She grabbed out for the door handle, and it was cold between her other hand.

She swung it down and lugged open the door. She began to walk her walk out of the room, pretty much un-noticed. She was just here a couple hours ago, so the hallways were familiar to her. They screamed of desperation and release, and beckoned for somebody to give them a make over. Bleak and white. The lights shining down didn't make them look any better as afternoon started to wash over the building.

She rolled her way out of the hallway and down a main section of the building where a nurses desk was. The nurse raised her head towards Alex and looked around before speaking out. "Are you looking for someone, hun?"

Alex paused. "Um, the bathroom, actually." She lied. The nurses face lit up as she stood up. "Here. Let me help you." She walked over towards Alex and faced her towards the left. "All the way down there, the first door on the right."

Alex nodded towards her as she internalized this information. She was just glad to be anywhere else but that box she was trapped in the last week. She walked down the new hallway she was met with and found herself at the door the nurse had mentioned. She opened it and walked in, locking it behind her. She walked up to the mirror and looked at herself in it.

She looked tired, and her bruises were turning this yellowish-brown color that indicated healing. Despite this, her skin was pale and washed out, and she looked... tired. There were no words for how traumatized she looked at the moment. She let out a sigh and turned on the water, splashing a bit on her face. She pulled some paper towel away and wiped her face dry before tossing it away.

She opened the door to the bathroom again and made her way back to the nurses desk. From there, she found her original hallway, and eventually, her room. It wasn't the greatest randevu she had ever had but at least she got some air. As she looked through her tiny window on her door, she could see Oliver sitting at the chairs in her room. He was waiting for her.

She twisted the doorknob down to open it and she saw his head shoot over. "You're walking! I'm assuming PT went well?"

Alex pushed her IV bar back into the room before she shut the door behind her. "Yeah, I had to get out of here. I was going crazy." Oliver re-adjusted how he was sitting in his chair "Well, if you're walking, I can only guess that they'll approve you for a transfer. We have everything we need in J-Block so it's not hard to get you everything you need."

Alex nodded, excited at the idea. She could feel her heart pick up at the very idea of getting out of here. Finally. She felt like she was getting sores on her ass, that's how long she had been sitting here doing nothing. "Thank god. I'm not kidding. I'm going insane here. There's nothing to do all day. The TV replays the same five shows over and over again, and they're always re-runs. Nothing new. The food here is so bland, my taste buds could just pack it up and move on out at this point. And don't even get me started on the fucking piano out there."

Oliver seemed to be reeling by her rant. "Well, that's very brutally honest." Alex sat down in her bed, repositioning the covers over herself. "When have you known me to not be?" she had a spark in her eyes that could ignite the room around her.

"Never." He laughed out in reply. "You've never hidden your opinions. I just think maybe you don't like hospitals. I don't think it has to do with this room, or any other room you could be placed in. You don't like feeling trapped."

Alex nodded. This was very true. "I don't like being out of control." she eventually admitted to the man. She could trust him with her deepest darkest feelings, and she knew he would never judge her. She stared at his lips, and imagined all the ways she could kiss him. She would have to wait until she got better. Now was not the time to be thinking about that, she told herself.

She focused on the way he was wearing another suit, meaning he likely had a meeting today. "Well, you're trying to get better. That's what you should be focusing on, alright?" He spoke out, giving her a familiar glace as he did so. As if a light bulb went off, she had finally placed what the look he was giving her was. It was endearment.

Alex's lips curled. "I will. I just want to get out of here. I want to be back home"

Home, she thought to herself. This hotel had slowly become her home over the three months that she had been here. She couldn't imagine herself living anywhere else. She had a perfect suite that was decked out in a shade of pink that she couldn't place, because she wasn't an artist. It was rose pink. Very light, with pinks of tan or cream spilling through. She loved her room. Her home.

Oliver put a hand on the side of her bed. "I know that. We'll get things sorted out eventually." He left it there and stared deeply into her eyes. She could feel the way the pit of her stomach twisted in a fiery passion as she did so. He was so gorgeous. She snaked her hand over towards his and placed it on top. "You've been so busy. Are you going to Benji's play?" she asked out, seeking confirmation.

The man nodded back towards yes. "Yes, to both of those. I've been very busy. Lots of meetings and paperwork after what happened. I've been dealing with your contract, too. Trying to get things sorted out. I figured you should probably know about that. And... yes. Avery told me about the play. I've filled out a slot in my schedule for it. Don't think I'd go missing it."

She turned to respond to him, but she was cut off by the door swinging open. She coiled her hand back to her chest in an anxious fashion and eyed Oliver up, as if she were apologizing for her haste-y reaction. "Ms. Gray! I'm sorry to interrupt, but if I could just have a word with Mr. Haven, that would be splendid."

It was the same doctor from before, during PT. Oliver turned around to face the man, and then looked back towards Alex. She gave him an approving gesture reminiscent of a bow, and eyed up the doctor. Was she being sent home? Why couldn't he just say it in front of her? Was this a doctor to nurse kind of talk? What was happening?

She watched as Oliver and the doctor made their way out of the door and waited for the door to close before talking. She couldn't hear what they were saying, and she had never learned how to read lips. It was all gibberish to her. She let a sigh escape her lips and pulled out her phone again, looking at the story she never posted. She captioned it 'Getting Better Slowly' and hit sent on it.

She closed Instagram and swiped over to Twitter. She wanted to see what everyone was saying. She had deprived herself for so long against people's opinions, so she had no clue what they could be saying about her. When she opened it up, she was met with hundreds of thousands of comments.

This was outrageous. She never could've imagined this. She was a little E-Lister, she was a nobody, a might-have-been-one-day-but-never-was. She wasn't a REAL celebrity, and yet when she scrolled through her mentions, she saw all the regular pop news update accounts speaking about her. For the first time, ever, and it was about this. Her injuries, and not her music.

Everette really had stolen a lot from her. She wanted to celebrate this album, and this single's release had swiftly been slid out from underneath Alex's feet without her suspecting it. It wasn't fair, and she wanted to make up for it somehow. She had to make her next release just as epic...just as amazing as she had planned for the original.

She watched as Oliver made his way back into the room without the doctor. He had walked away while Alex was lost in thought. "So?" she asked out to the suited man.

"They're going to transfer you tonight."

[k-verse-sachi]

Rise of The Phoenix

Hey everyone! Welcome to CharmedChaos!

I'm Alex, writer #3 who loves bringing your favorite characters to life in exciting and imaginative ways here at CharmedChaos. So, sit back, relax, and dive into the world of fantasy with me!

Group: BTS

Type: X Reader/X Member/N.A

Age Restriction: 13+/16+/18+/N.A

Word Count: 2k

Request Status: Requested by: {no one}

Pairing: none

Genre: selected in purple

Romance, Angst, Fluff, Drama, Comedy, Fantasy, Mystery, Thriller, Action, Adventure, Horror, Smut

Trigger Warning: talks of paralysis, major injuries to main character

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons{outside of stated idols}, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER 4: Embers of Hope

Hours blur into days, days into weeks, and before you know it, it's been months. All that time, Jungkook was here, wondering if this is it, if this is where it ends for him. If it is, how will he survive without the rush of being on stage again, hanging with his friends, dancing, singing, and performing?

The physical pain is gone. He is supposed to be better. He is supposed to be able to walk again, but he can’t bear to bring himself to move yet. He is scared. What if he tries, and they realize that he can’t move his legs? Or he can, but he just doesn’t have that much mobility. Bound to a wheelchair forever. What if he is better but will never be the same as before? Who will he be if not the golden maknae? That’s all he knows.

He is terrified of the what-ifs. But today is the day that he has to face them. Today is the day that he, his friends, his family, and the doctors all find out what will happen when he tries to move his legs and stand. Only an hour before the doctor gets here. His mom is here. Dad is here. Friends are here. Physically he is here. But with all the what-ifs and buts and possibilities running around in his head, it seems as though he is simply watching his life unfold like a movie. He might as well not be in the room. He vowed to get better. He wanted to push through this, but as time went on, it just felt more and more unlikely.

He was so terrified he didn't notice when the doctor walked in or was talking to him. He didn't realize a thing. Not when Jimin called for him or when Namjoon walked next to him. The only thing that registered, although it terrified him, was when Joon touched his shoulder. He snapped out of it, realized where he was, and his eyes landed on the doctor.

"Sorry… I.. uhm… don't know what happened just now. Sorry about that," he drawled out, still slightly out of it.

The doctor responded, "No, it’s fine. It's alright, I understand. But uhm, how about we start this test. Try to lift your right leg for me, please."

At that, he hesitantly tried to. It took a lot of strain, but he lifted his leg. If only a little, he lifted it. It didn’t hurt; his legs just felt like lead. It took so much out of him just to slightly lift it off the bed. He knew what that meant. He knew that wasn’t the best news. His spine is better; he should be back to walking soon. But yet he wasn’t. He knew that meant physical therapy. That meant his career was gone. Tears welled up in his eyes. He wanted to cry. His heart felt heavy; he felt as if he was burning from the inside. The doctor realized this and tried to wrap up the test.

In the ensuing silence, Jungkook's mind raced. He had always been the golden maknae, the unstoppable force on stage, but now he felt so fragile, so unsure. His mom squeezed his hand, a silent reminder of the support surrounding him. Jungkook took a deep breath, feeling the embers of hope flicker inside him. The road ahead was long and uncertain, but for the first time in months, he felt a glimmer of determination. He wasn’t alone in this fight. He had his family, his friends, and millions of fans who believed in him. As he looked around the room, he knew he had to keep going, one small step at a time.

--

as quickly as he came he left and asked to speak with everyone outside. while outside they all spoke.

"it's not looking too good. I think he'll need to start physical therapy soon I will send the name of the best physio I know. I'm sure he'll be better soon. the movement in his legs meant he might still walk. dancing however, might not be possible." he doctor spoke before leaving.

--

Jungkook's days had settled into a monotonous routine. Each morning began with physical therapy, a grueling process filled with both physical pain and mental frustration. The sterile smell of the hospital room was a constant reminder of how far he was from the dazzling lights of the stage. As he pushed himself through the exercises, beads of sweat forming on his brow, his therapist offered words of encouragement.

"You're doing great, Jungkook. Just a little more," she would say, her voice a steady anchor in the storm of his thoughts. Every small victory, like a slight movement in his legs, was a beacon of hope in his sea of despair.

Jungkook’s internal struggle was relentless. Memories of his active days flashed before him, a stark contrast to his current state. Yet, amid the frustration and pain, a flicker of determination began to emerge, sparked by the unwavering support surrounding him.

--

The members of BTS visited Jungkook regularly, their presence a balm to his weary soul. They filled his room with laughter, jokes, and stories from their ongoing activities. They brought him updates about their rehearsals, concerts, and even mundane daily happenings.

One afternoon, as they gathered around his bed, Jimin spoke up, his voice filled with emotion. "Jungkook, you are important to us, no matter what. We’re a family, and we'll get through this together."

Jungkook felt a lump in his throat. The unwavering support of his members kindled a renewed sense of hope within him. They handed him a small gift – a bracelet inscribed with the word "family." It was simple yet it meant everything to kook.

--

The love from ARMY was overwhelming. Jungkook received countless letters and gifts from fans around the world. One particular letter caught his attention. It was from a fan who recounted how Jungkook and BTS had inspired her during her own tough times. Her words were heartfelt and raw.

Jungkook opened the letter carefully, his fingers trembling slightly. As he began to read, he felt an immediate pull at his heartstrings. The fan, named Hana, wrote about her battle with cancer. She described the dark days, the pain, the uncertainty, and how she often felt like giving up. But she also wrote about how BTS’s music, especially Jungkook’s performances and his unwavering spirit, had given her hope and strength.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued to read. Hana wrote about how watching their concerts and listening to their lyrics had helped her through the worst of times. She mentioned a specific moment during a concert where Jungkook had smiled and waved at the camera, and how that simple act had given her a burst of hope when she needed it most.

Jungkook’s vision blurred with tears. He could feel Hana’s struggles and her triumphs as if they were his own. The outpouring of love and support from ARMY reignited his determination. He knew he had to keep fighting, not just for himself, but for everyone who believed in him.

On social media, BTS members shared positive messages from fans, showcasing the trending hashtags and fan projects dedicated to Jungkook. Seeing the global support strengthened his resolve. He wasn’t alone in this journey; millions of hearts beat with his.

--

Progress was slow but steady. One morning, during a therapy session, Jungkook managed to move his ankle. It was a small movement, almost imperceptible, but it was a significant milestone. His therapist’s eyes lit up with joy.

"Did you see that?" she exclaimed. "You did it, Jungkook!"

His family, who had been by his side, burst into tears of joy and relief. Jungkook’s own eyes filled with tears. It was an emotional moment, blending relief and an overwhelming sense of achievement.

These small milestones were stepping stones on his path to recovery. Each one brought a mix of emotions, from joy to a renewed sense of purpose. Jungkook's internal monologue was filled with gratitude and a silent vow to keep pushing forward.

--

Jungkook’s therapist had been observing him closely, noting his physical improvements but also his psychological struggles. One afternoon, after a particularly tough session, she sat down next to him.

"Jungkook," she began gently, "I see how hard you're working, but I also see something holding you back. Sometimes, recovery isn't just about the physical. I think it might help to talk to a psychologist. Fear and anxiety can create barriers that are just as real as physical ones."

Jungkook looked at her, feeling both relief and apprehension. He knew she was right. His fears were a heavy burden, and perhaps talking to someone could help him navigate through them.

--

Jungkook began sessions with a psychologist, Dr. Kim, who specialized in trauma and recovery. Their conversations delved into his deepest fears and anxieties. Dr. Kim's office was a safe space, a stark contrast to the sterile hospital environment. The room was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and comfortable furniture.

In their first session, Dr. Kim asked Jungkook to describe his feelings about the accident and its aftermath. Jungkook found himself opening up about his fears of never performing again, of letting down his bandmates and fans, and of losing his identity as the "Golden Maknae."

Dr. Kim listened attentively, her voice calm and reassuring. "Jungkook, it's natural to feel afraid after such a traumatic event. But it's important to recognize that fear can be just as paralyzing as a physical injury. We need to work on overcoming these mental barriers."

Over the next few weeks, Jungkook and Dr. Kim worked on various techniques to manage his fear and anxiety. They practiced visualization exercises, where Jungkook imagined himself standing, walking, and eventually dancing on stage. They also worked on breathing exercises to help him stay calm and focused.

During one pivotal session, Dr. Kim asked Jungkook to stand up with her support. He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "I can't," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"Yes, you can," Dr. Kim said firmly. "Your body is ready, Jungkook. It's your mind that needs to catch up. Trust yourself."

Jungkook closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly pushed himself up. His legs felt weak, but they supported his weight. He opened his eyes, tears streaming down his face. "I'm standing," he whispered in disbelief.

"Yes, you are," Dr. Kim said, smiling. "And you'll walk too, in time. This is just the beginning."

--

After the breakthrough, Jungkook asked Dr. Kim and his physical therapist to keep his progress a secret. He wanted to surprise his family, friends, and bandmates when the time was right.

"Please, don't tell anyone yet," Jungkook pleaded. "I want to be able to show them myself. I want it to be a surprise."

Dr. Kim and the therapist agreed, respecting his wishes. They continued their sessions in secret, working diligently towards his recovery.

--

One evening, Jimin visited Jungkook alone. He entered the room quietly, his face etched with worry. Jungkook could sense something was off. Jimin sat down, his eyes avoiding Jungkook's gaze.

"Jimin, what's wrong?" Jungkook asked softly.

Jimin's eyes filled with tears, and he finally spoke, his voice breaking. "Jungkook, I feel so bad about everything. I feel like it's my fault you're here. If I hadn't slipped... I'm so sorry."

Jungkook's heart ached seeing his friend like this. He reached out and took Jimin's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Hyung, don't do this to yourself. It wasn't your fault. I don't regret saving you for a second. If I had to do it all over again, I would."

Jimin sobbed, "But you're in so much pain because of me. I can't help but feel guilty."

"Listen to me," Jungkook said firmly, though his voice was gentle. "You mean the world to me, to all of us. This isn't your fault, and I don't want you carrying that burden. I promise you, we'll walk side by side again. We'll be back on that stage together. Even if I don't fully believe it yet, I have to hold on to that hope. For you, for all of us."

Jimin wiped his tears, trying to smile. "Thank you, Jungkook. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"We're a team," Jungkook replied, his own eyes moist. "We'll get through this together, I promise."

---

Jungkook and his therapist sat down to set realistic goals for his recovery. They planned short-term and long-term objectives, focusing on patience and perseverance. The path ahead was long, but Jungkook was ready to face it head-on.

He began to visualize success, imagining himself walking and performing again. These visualizations became a source of strength and motivation. Each day, he pushed a little harder, fueled by the images of his future self back on stage.

[arhamliving]

Why Are UTIs More Common During Summer? Fight UTIs This Summer With Ayurveda!

UTIs or Urinary Tract Infections are the infections that can often be very painful, and one often encounters them in summer seasons. Ayurveda, which stands for a holistic healing system, suggests that when it comes to the warmer season, specific lifestyle and dietary practices contribute to the more frequent UTI cases. This article is going to explain why UTIs are more widespread in summer and give some tips, how the ayurveda treatment for urinary infection can help fight this condition in a natural way. Local ayurveda experts based in Vashi near Mumbai offer an ayurveda treatment for urinary infection that is customized especially for the summer season.

Causes of Increased UTI Risk in Summer

Hot weather, excessive sweating, not drinking enough water – these are some of the main reasons why UTIs flare up more in summer as per ayurvedic wisdom. When the body becomes hot and dry due to heat, the pitta dosha or fire element gets aggravated. This excess pitta causes toxins to accumulate in the urine. Dehydration is also common in summer months due to sweating and not replenishing fluids, leading to concentrated, toxic urine. All these factors disrupt the normal flow and balance of urine, making summer a prime season for urinary tract ailments.

Preventing Summer UTIs with Ayurvedic Wisdom

According to Ayurvedic principles, there are many dietary and lifestyle recommendations which are considered UTI-preventing during the summer. To be hydrated, drink a lot of clean water which has been filtered. Eat cool foods (like pitta-pacific fruits, salads and home-made yogurt) instead of hot foods. Avoid long term exposure to heat and wear a cotton t-shirt or clothes that allow air to circulate. The recommendation is to have an early bedtime and apply practices of relaxation too for ayurveda. These help end the risk of UTIs during the summer.

The Ayurvedic Diet for Urinary Health

Food and diet play an important role in maintaining healthy urine flow and balance according to ayurveda. A UTI-fighting summer diet focuses on intake of pitta-soothing foods. Drink plenty of water, fresh fruit juices, coconut water. Eat salad with cucumber, tomatoes. Have light, easy to digest meals containing lentils, millets, cabbage, carrots. Avoid excess pitta foods like spicy, fried items. Restrict intake of sour, fermented foods and excessive grains, sugar.

Lifestyle Changes for Preventing Recurrent UTIs

Simple shifts in daily habits help prevent recurrence of UTIs, say ayurvedic experts. Wear cotton underwear, avoid tight pants. Empty bladder frequently, practice pelvic floor exercises. Reduce stress through yoga, meditation. Manage sweat secretion by staying hydrated, using natural deodorants. Maintain genital hygiene, wear rubber/cotton underwear during periods. Lead a regular lifestyle and get adequate rest to keep urinary health in balance.

Conclusion

Ayurveda offers a holistic approach to effectively treating and preventing UTIs, especially important during hot summer weather. Following tips on diet, herbal remedies and lifestyle from experienced ayurvedic practitioners helps balance aggravated pitta dosha and supports urinary health naturally without side effects. Traditional urine infection ayurvedic treatment in Vashi helps provide both immediate relief as well as long-term management for UTIs and recurrent cases. Adopting the wisdom of ayurveda can help us fight UTIs and maintain overall health in summer.

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Arham Living is dedicated to holistic well-being. Our Ayurvedic experts offer consultations at home, providing personalized diets, remedies, and detox therapies for lasting relief.

Blog Author : Dr. Krutee Doshi

*Note: Always do consult your nearest physician before any further medications.

Source: https://arhamliving.com/why-are-utis-more-common-during-summer-fight-utis-this-summer-with-ayurveda/