#this one needs to be institutionalized

[bonkbobl]

the way i keep watching the same two tiktok edits of roose with the arctic monkeys in the back ground LMAOOOOO im unwell

[mythalism]

trick weekes framing of the solavellan break up as such a tragic, terrible ultimatum - "he has to break it off right there or he will have betrayed himself". oh im sick to my stomach. the great betrayer, He Who Hunts Alone, Pride, just moments away from betraying himself by trusting the woman he loves. and he can't do it. Pride, who earned his infamy by betraying those he loves but cannot betray himself. i need to go lay down

[hold-him-down]

Belleview Chapter Two (Part D): Day One

Notes: This is the final part of chapter 2. Now, pretend all 4 of those parts were posted in one thing because that is really how it was meant to be but things got away from me :)

Belleview: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (Part A), Chapter 2 (Part B), Chapter 2 (Part C)

TW: Institutionalized slavery, Med Whump, Dubcon Medical Care, References to Human Experimentation

✥ ✥ ✥

Day one, Lincoln thinks, goes by in a sort of semi-organized frenzy that makes up for a lack of rhythm with the undiluted tenacity of every person who has been assigned to this site. It is a flurry of organizing volunteers, scheduling with local hospitals, reviewing the notes of the medical team and pausing, occasionally, to ask how his two patients are faring. River remains isolated, but no one pushes him, and Felix remains alive and that, for what it’s worth, counts as a win.

Beds are built inside of the tiny rooms with impressive efficiency, while volunteers sort through the floods of donations, things from clothing to food to entertainment. At some point, an entire truck full of televisions, courtesy of the mayor, pulls up, and at another, a florist brings a van-full of indoor plants to help make the place feel more ���homey.’ Three restaurants deliver catered lunch, and seven bring dinner. The residents, by and large, refuse the food, and it is not until the prepackaged meaty substance that has been their daily meal for their entire time at the site is found, heated, and delivered, that most of them eat anything at all.

The phone rings non-stop with offers for food or ‘any other support needed’ over the next week. News vans come and go, with volunteers offering cursory updates on where things stand at Belleview, but never on the residents themselves. Their identities are protected, and no one seems to mind regardless. 

The community, much to Lincoln’s surprise, rallies behind the residents, and he is left to admit, reluctantly, that even here, in this somewhat small community in southern Florida, where so many vocal supporters of the system fought tooth and nail to keep contracted labor intact, there are countless pockets of good. He doesn’t have the time to rearrange his opinion on the town, but he recognizes the necessity to reassess where he stands.

For now, he throws all of his energy toward the task at hand.

Three of the residents, Felix, Gabriel, and Ari, require hospital visits for diagnostics. Lincoln makes a note to check on them before leaving for the night. Seven more have been hooked up to IV fluids and are being monitored while they sleep, but will be treated at the site once the med rooms are set up. Three (River, chiefly among them) refused any care, and seven allowed themselves to be examined without fighting. Notably, the team suspects that many did not understand, or believe, that things have changed, and so the pretenses under which they cooperated were dubious at best.

It’s eight o’clock, and with one full twelve-hour shift under his belt, Lincoln accepts that it’s nearly time to call it a day. The first group of volunteers has begun packing up and leaving for the evening, with the new group filing in and orienting themselves to their tasks. Lincoln sits in the empty office, twenty-one folders strewn haphazardly across the large metal desk. 

He reaches for the newest folder, marked ‘Felix,’ and opens it. He reads through the notes– his notes– and stands, placing the lone file into his bag. He picks up his keys, and he turns off the light to the office, and he starts making his way through the bowels of the building that, just yesterday, housed horrors that he has not yet begun to wrap his head around.

Lincoln passes several volunteers setting up a common area out of what was once a waiting room, which includes putting together sofas, hooking up the donated TVs, stocking shelves full of books, and hanging art. There are half-broken down boxes strewn everywhere. He greets the volunteers with an exhausted smile and half-wave as he passes. Once he reaches the tip of the main corridor, he pauses. It’s quiet now, with an almost eerie quality to it. A couple of the fluorescents are dull, with one outright flickering. It gives the wing a sort of post-apocalyptic ambiance befitting its history. If not for the doors, each cracked open in a bid to encourage the residents to explore their temporary home, it would look exactly the same as it had this morning, save for one of the plants that made its way to a corner.

“How did it go today?” Dr. Anthony Schiller, the assistant director of the site, who will oversee it during the overnight shifts, asks as he pulls up beside him. 

“It could have gone worse,” Lincoln responds. They are silent for seconds, maybe minutes, staring down the long hallway. And then, “I’m worried about them,” Lincoln says softly. At the doctor’s expectant look, he continues, “About where things go from here.”

Schiller nods in agreement, and Lincoln hands him the key to the office with a half-hearted smile that is meant to be encouraging, but might read closer to reluctant. 

“Files are on the desk, notes are in the files,” Lincoln says. He gives a rundown of where they’re at, what they’ve done, who to keep an eye on overnight.

Once Anthony has retreated, Lincoln makes his way through the corridor toward the exit. He listens for any signs of distress as he does. In one room, the light from the TV flashes through the crack in the door. From another, he can hear crying. He pauses, knocking on the door. “Do you need anything?” he asks, and the boy’s– Ethan’s– eyes snap up to meet his.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan whispers. 

“It’s okay,” Lincoln replies. He takes a step into the room, where there is a barely-eaten dinner and an untouched pile of blankets. “I��m sure this is overwhelming,” he says. He picks up the top blanket and unfolds it, then sets it on the untouched bed. “Have you had a chance to eat?” he asks. 

Ethan nods, visibly holding back as much emotion as he can. 

“Okay,” Lincoln replies. He sits at the edge of the bed, and pats the space next to him. “Will you come sit with me for a minute?” he asks then. Ethan, predictably, does as he is asked, and Lincoln hands him the blanket. “I’m going to head out for the night,” Lincoln explains. “Is there anything you want me to grab you for tomorrow?”

Ethan shakes his head quickly. “Okay,” Lincoln replies. “Try to get some sleep. If you’d like to turn on the TV, you can. Anything you need, please let the volunteers know, okay? I know this is confusing,” he continues, “but things will get easier.” 

Ethan smiles, his eyes downcast, and Lincoln squeezes his hand. “I’ll see you in the morning?” 

As he continues down the hall, he wonders, idly, how many of these beds will be untouched tonight. How many of these men will go hungry tonight. How many will sleep at all. River's room is quiet and dark, and Lincoln resists the urge to check in on him. He is okay. He refused lunch and dinner, but has a bed, has clothes, and has access to food and water. No progress has been made throughout the day, but, Lincoln hopes, they will try again tomorrow.

He reluctantly continues walking.

He pauses, finally, at Felix’s door. As one of the three critical patients, the volunteers have been on top of him all day, reporting back at least hourly on his status. With the medicine and with the fluids and with the constant care, he’s been stable, which is something.

Lincoln pushes the door open as quietly as he can, and buried under a weighted blanket, curled up on his side, lies Felix. An oxygen mask covers his mouth and nose, and, under the covers, Lincoln knows a slew of monitors cover his body, feeding them data on his condition. After a thorough review of that data, Lincoln turns his attention back to Felix.

Even in the darkness, it is obvious that he has been bathed, he has been given clothes, and his wounds have been tended. He looks… peaceful, Lincoln thinks. He looks comfortable. 

As he takes a step back toward the hall, Felix’s eyes crack open, instantly seeking him out. His fingers lift, just slightly, in something that vaguely resembles a wave, and Lincoln makes his way to his bedside.

He kneels next to him, squeezing his fingers gently. 

“Hey,” he whispers. With his free hand, Lincoln brushes the hair off of Felix’s forehead, then runs his fingers across the bruising on his neck. “I was just on my way out,” he continues, “I wanted to check and make sure you have everything you need?” 

Felix doesn’t respond, but he keeps his eyes on Lincoln. Lincoln smiles and stands, with a soft, “I’ll see you in the morning,” as he moves away from Felix’s bed.

The panicked look, the same from earlier, ghosts across Felix’s features, and he reaches for the mask. It doesn’t take more than a split second for Lincoln’s mind to be made up. At home, his boyfriend will struggle to understand what happened here today. He’ll be chastised for taking his work too seriously, for not setting boundaries, for giving too much of himself to his job.

But, he thinks, as he pulls out his phone to send the text message: I’m going to stay here for the night. I’ll check in in the morning. Will explain tomorrow, he knows it’s right. By the time he drags the small armchair over to Felix’s bed and settles into it, Felix’s body has lost the fight for consciousness. Still, when Lincoln puts his hand on top of Felix’s, and the tension in his shoulders immediately lifts, Lincoln knows that this is where he’s meant to be.

Belleview Taglist:

@pigeonwhumps @peachy-panic @whump-cravings @pirefyrelight @i-eat-worlds

@taterswhump @squishablesunbeam @inpainandsuffering @distinctlywhumpthing @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@handsinmotion @whumps-and-bumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @alexmundaythrufriday @itsawhumpsideblog

@hellodecisionparalysis

[faithinlouisfuture]

[irrealisms]

i have at this point gotten three people in my notes going "i volunteer at a crisis center and this is misinformation!" (a) literally what about my post is misinformation. op was kind of sloppily phrased bc i didn't expect ppl to reblog it but "most hotlines call the cops sometimes, here are some that do that Never" is just true information (b) fuck OFF. check my blog. i'm a psychiatric survivor you're not going to convince me that calling the cops to forcibly institutionalize people is totally okay when you do it and it's so irresponsible of me to discourage people from getting help. maybe i should add that in bold letters to the top of my pinned post (or temporarily pin a different post?) until this post dies down.

i just. it's not ~spreading misinformation~ to say that you do the things you admit to doing. (one of the people was actually denying that crisis lines did that but in a way that was...trivially disprovable? so im not sure what that was about lmao. and then the other two were straightup "YES we call the cops sometimes but only when we HAVE to so it's NOT BAD, stop spreading MISINFORMATION")

also 2/3 blocked me and the third is just going through my notes and reblogging all the people who disagreed with me without actually responding to me.

[icannotgetoverbirds]

I am no longer consumed by bloodlust!

[autumnhobbit]

if there’s one thing i gotta credit republicans on it’s the ability to completely miss the point.

i thought our economy was in shambles and nobody can afford a house or food etc etc? we have to elect trump because the haitians are eating our cats now? what does that have to do with anything? how’s he going to prevent it? it’s already animal cruelty and would probably be considered poaching in most towns, also causing a public disturbance?

[cursedcrone]

there's nothing I wouldn't do for you

[p4nishers]

are you normal or can you recite the entirety of good omens s2 ep1 (yes that specific ep) with sound effects and exact faces because you've started over so many times and you never finish it bc im obviously the first one i don't even– excuse me oooiiii yes was that you oh err hi yeah if you don't mind could you hold this while i crank it all up um which way up does it go well like that just hold it tight there you go–

[dollsandmasks]

You know that moment where you have a crumb of free time and you could be writing, you could be finishing that fic, you could be catching up with your friends, you could take out your sketchbook and draw the most self-indulgent things, you could at least be reading or watching something interesting, but you happen to have a minor task that you don't want to do, your body is slightly uncomfortable from typical body things and your work has been a bit stressful today, so now you are in a restless scrolling more and opening the same three social media apps hoping that something will give you that hit and send your brain in motion and make you either work on tasks or do something fun.

Why am I procrastinating making a single phone call, and then doing fun things forever.

[whiskeyswifty]

Taybe would cause such emotional devastation when they break up and each release an album afterwards (but the songs while they are together would also be so good) #taybe4life

Absolutely like 50% of the appeal of Taybe is the music!!! The songs about each other falling love…. The way they’d slowly influence each other’s sounds in small but noticeable ways (slight quick tempo lilts like Kyoto more prevalent in phoebes music and rubber bridges all over Taylor’s songs hellooo)… a LPSS of a a joint EP they’d make for fun one winter…. The DUETS!!!! And then so true like the breakup albums would be….. my GODDDDDDD I can’t even imagine. Gut wrenching, as not only a wlw breakup which is always emotionally nuclear but on top of that their personal brands of angst through which they would process it. So powerful, TOO powerful you might say. That’s why we’re not allowed to have them. The psychic damage it would cause every wlw within a 2000 mile radius?? Catastrophic.

[local-limebug]

what the fuck is up with the rise in trans hate how are people this sensitive about what someone else wants to do with their own body

[specters]

some people are so hateful towards people with eating disorders on here like i do not want to speak about it much but i've fallen back into mine recently and i 100% understand running into people's ed blogs is triggering and awful and those blogs are essentially just blogs where sick people talk about how they're slowly killing themselves but it's like... do you think calling them ugly bitches who need to eat is helpful? their illness does not absolve them from the harm they cause to others especially if they are altogether pro-ed for others & use their disorder to be so completely hateful towards fat people, but all people deserve a space to talk about what they are going through. maybe not in a space that fuels it so heavily, but a space where people understand and aren't going to demonize them for...... literally dying.

[thedevilsrain]

the brazilian left really has a custom of saying a given right wing figure needs to be in a mental hospital or that they 'ran out of a hospital' and i fucking hate it lol

[sidhedust]

As it turns out, I do draw more than I think, but it's always small doodles between the big stuff. I decided to post these just to not lose them after the semester is over-I drew them on my history notes, and I reuse to crack open my notebook once I reach the end of December.

These folks don't appear until the first "real" arc of the story, but I can't help but doodle them even as I work on the prologue they don't appear in.

There are two new guys here (top left and on the left on the bottom pic), and I would post more art of them, but I'm currently redesigning them to add more animal motifs, making old art of them outdated LOL.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

On the one hand I haven't eaten anything today and that's definitely a failure by rehab standards, on the other hand I ate an entire 2000 calories yesterday and if I eat anything right now I think I might throw up. So.

I guess it is what it is. I just want to be a normal person who eats normal amounts of food. Why is that so damn hard?