#car insurance recovery

[apsmashrepair]

What Steps Should You Take After a Car Accident for Smooth Insurance Claims Processing?

Car accidents are an unfortunate reality that many drivers in Australia may face. However, the aftermath can be overwhelming, leaving individuals confused about the steps to take. In this comprehensive article, we will offer you valuable insights about car accident insurance claims and all the essential processes you need to take for a smooth and efficient resolution.

Immediate Steps after a Car Accident

1. Prioritise Safety:

If anyone is injured, call an ambulance immediately. Provide first aid if needed.

If there's a fire, smoking, or people trapped, call the fire brigade and move away from the vehicles.

If you suspect the other driver is under the influence, call the police.

Call the police in case of property damage.

2. No Blame Game:

Avoid blaming anyone, and remember, the legal fault might differ from personal feelings.

3. Exchange Information:

Swap contact details with others involved, including insurers, car details, and contact info.

Capture the accident scene with photos and note the time, date, location, and witness names.

Draw a diagram for police and insurance purposes.

4. Tow Truck and Documentation:

If necessary, arrange a tow truck for your car.

It might feel overwhelming, but with the help of others at the scene, you've likely done what's needed.

Understanding Car Insurance Accident Claims

Car insurance is vital for covering accident costs. Mandatory Greenslips (Compulsory third-party or CTP insurance) compensate for personal injuries caused by the at-fault driver. Understanding different coverage levels is essential.

CTP Greenslips

Greenslips cover personal injury costs for those harmed in an accident caused by the insured driver. Typically purchased separately.

Comprehensive Car Insurance

Optional but highly recommended, comprehensive insurance offers the highest level of coverage, protecting against various damages and liabilities.

Third-Party Property Damage Insurance

Affordable and beneficial for older vehicles, it covers damage to others' property but not your vehicle.

Third-Party Fire and Theft Insurance

Adds fire and theft protection to Third-Party Property Damage Insurance but excludes accident damage.

Managing Car Accident Insurance Claims

After gathering information, follow these steps for an effective insurance claim:

Contact Your Insurance Company

Notify your insurer promptly with accurate accident details. They will guide you through the claims process and inform you of the necessary documentation.

Document the Accident

Maintain records of all conversations, emails, and documents related to the claim. Take photos of vehicle damage and injuries as evidence.

Provide an Accurate Account

Be honest and accurate when recounting the accident. Stick to facts, avoid speculation, and provide a detailed account to both your insurer and the police if needed.

Cooperate with the Investigation

Fully cooperate with your insurer's investigation, providing additional information or attending vehicle damage assessments if required.

Seek Legal Advice, if Required

In complex cases or disputes, seek legal advice to protect your rights and navigate the claims process effectively.

How to Make a Car Insurance Claim?

Evaluate Damage

Consider if the damage is worth claiming. Minor damages might cost less than your excess.

Gather Incident Details

Your insurer will want specifics - date, location, and other drivers' details. Your earlier drawing might be handy!

Notify Your Insurer

Contact your insurer and submit your claim online or via email.

Let Your Insurer Investigate

Once contacted, your insurer will check if the other party has insurance and confirm the fault.

Claim Process Overview

Exchange contact details and information at the scene.

Capture photos or draw a diagram of the incident.

Collect all incident details, including your and the other party's information.

Contact your insurer and submit your claim online or via email.

Allow your insurer to begin the investigation.

Understanding Claim Settlements

Insurance companies evaluate damage, injuries, and liability to determine fair settlement amounts. Understanding policy terms ensures appropriate compensation.

Keep Track of Expenses

Record all accident-related expenses, including medical bills, vehicle repairs, and transportation costs. These may be reimbursed based on coverage.

Review Policy Renewal

After claim settlement, review your insurance policy. Evaluate coverage limits, deductibles, and premiums to ensure continued adequate protection.

Some Common FAQs Related To Car Accident Insurance Claim

Who Pays for the Damage?

The responsibility for covering damage depends on the situation. Insurance plays a crucial role here.

Which Driver Makes the Claim?

Anyone involved in an accident typically has a 'duty of disclosure.' Notify your insurer, even if you choose not to make a claim.

If you have car insurance, regardless of its type, inform your insurer about the accident.

Some regions have a 'no-fault' insurance scheme, covering injuries even if you're at fault. This is known as Compulsory Third Party Insurance.

If the accident wasn't your fault, consider getting a repair quote. If the costs are substantial, making a claim with your insurer is advisable.

If the accident was your fault, and damages occurred to both parties, you'll need to lodge a claim with your insurer.

Be cautious; if the other driver's insurer determines you're at fault, it may impact your driving record.

What If the Other Driver is Uninsured?

If the other driver is uninsured, your insurer will cover repairs and other costs, seeking reimbursement later.

Report the incident to your insurer, even if you plan to resolve it privately.

How Long Do I Have to File a Claim?

There are no specific deadlines, but it's crucial to notify your insurer as soon as possible after the accident.

Can I Get Car Insurance After an Accident?

Yes, but starting a new policy after an accident may affect your premiums.

Compulsory Third Party Insurance covers injury costs for all drivers after an accident.

Consider additional insurance options like Comprehensive, Third Party Property, or Third Party Fire and Theft for enhanced protection.

Conclusion 

Handling a car accident insurance claim requires a systematic approach. By following the immediate steps, understanding insurance coverage, and effectively managing the claims process, drivers can navigate the aftermath with confidence. It's crucial to stay informed, cooperate with authorities and insurers, and seek legal advice when needed. And if you require someone to handle insurance matters comprehensively, you can rely on AP Smash Repairs! They have a dedicated team of experts ready to simplify the process for you.

[neverrcry]

it's 911 day guys. i'm uh. i feel fear.

[thisisbjoeblog]

Driving Skills 101: Experiencing with a Painful Car Accident

According to the Royal Malaysian Police, there were 402,626 road accidents recorded from January to September 2022, resulting in 4,379 fatalities. This marked an increase from the previous year. In 2023, nearly 600,000 road accidents were reported, with 12,417 resulting in fatalities. Image source: WIRED Continue reading Driving Skills 101: Experiencing with a Painful Car Accident

[neverendingford]

.

[sirfrogsworth]

Froglock Holmes, Internet Sleuth

I don't remember dates very well, but I believe sometime in the mid 2000s I had a friend drive me from St. Louis to Detroit. It was a very difficult journey. I have never done well as a car passenger and driving for an entire day was one of the more miserable experiences in my life.

But I got through it because I was *convinced* I was about to be cured. Back then it was the only thing I wished for and I was willing to try absolutely anything.

So we were off to see the Wizard about my wish.

During that time there were no doctors in St. Louis who knew anything about Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. But I found a website for a medical company that claimed if I saw one of their approved doctors, they could guarantee a 50% improvement. And when I did my pre-interview on the phone, that lady said some patients experienced a full recovery. To which I replied, "Yes, I will take one full recovery please."

But the closest approved specialist I could find was in Detroit and she would only treat me if I did my first consultation in person. She would then continue treating me over the phone.

My friend took three days off and she borrowed her parent's SUV so I would have leg room during the 8 hour trip. We loaded up on snacks and compact discs and began our road trip to wellness. We merged onto the Yellow Brick Road (a.k.a. I-70 East) and headed toward the land of Marshall Mathers.

The more I got car sick, the more I focused on asking the Wizard to grant my wish.

A new... mitochondria?

Plus several trillion.

A new several trillion little powerhouses.

This doctor was part of a national network of facilities that claimed they could effectively treat Fibromyalgia and CFS with a groundbreaking 6 step "holistic" approach. It was super holistic. Extra super duper holistic. The website made sure you knew it was holistic.

And those 6 steps sounded very fancy.

I mean, that all seems pretty legit. They were going to enhance my cells and address coagulation deficits. That's a thing, right?

Now I know that "holistic" is a buzzword that should be met with skepticism, but back then I was really hopeful they could help me. They enthusiastically made bold promises and filled me with such assured hope that I sold my car to help pay for everything.

We arrived in Detroit the evening before the appointment. I slept maybe an hour. Morning eventually arrived and we headed to the office. They gave me a clipboard full of paperwork that took forever to fill out.

"Can I please just see the Wizard and get my wish?"

I got to the exam room and they put me in a gown with the butt showing—which I don't think my friend was prepared for. I have a condition known as Hank Hill Butt and it can take a bit of getting used to upon first glance.

My poor friend refused to make eye contact while I was wearing it.

The doctor finally arrived and this supernatural healing wizard turned out to be a very short Greek lady. She asked dozens of questions—most of which I answered on the forms already. She poked my belly, checked my reflexes, and at no point did her examination require a gown with the butt showing.

She officially diagnosed me with severe Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and told me she was going to type up a custom treatment regimen and while she was doing that, I was going to get a special IV they designed to specifically combat CFS.

They took me to a room full of comfy reclining chairs and hooked me to an IV full of orange nonsense. Once that was done I met back up with the Wizard and she had created the afore-mentioned "customized" treatment regimen full of expensive supplements and vitamins that were not covered by insurance. Many of which I had to buy directly from the facility. As I looked over the treatment worksheet, I realized they gave the same document to all of the patients.

It was at this point, 560 miles away from my home, stuck in some office in the suburbs of Detroit (which will eventually be taken over by a tooth pulp dentist), with my Hank Hill butt hanging out...

I realized this could have been an email.

I decided to put everything on three different credit cards. Combined with the money from my car, I had about $20,000 to invest in fixing my broken body. My plan was to get all better so I could get a job and pay everything back. I even told the doctor this brilliant financial stratagem and she agreed it was a good plan. No notes.

Young Froggie was being hit in the face with red flag after red flag and Old Froggie is a little embarrassed about that.

I don't remember any of the supplements, but they had names like "EnergyMax Plus" and "Ultra MitoBooster 3000." They definitely sounded like legitimate, evidenced-backed medical supplements and not knockoff energy drinks endorsed by D-list Instagram influencers.

It wasn't all overpriced vitamins though. The doctor had some silly ideas that were actually covered by insurance. She said I should thin my blood so it took less energy to circulate. And I should boost my testosterone levels above the typical range to improve energy. So I had to inject myself with blood thinners and rub testosterone cream on my legs every day for months.

The blood thinners gave me tons of painful bruises at the injection sites and made me dizzy from time to time. The shots became so painful I would have to close my eyes and have my dad inject me. Otherwise I would chicken out. We kept running out of places that didn't have bruises so he would just pick the smallest bruise and stick the needle there.

And the testosterone cream had an interesting side effect that I am debating whether to talk about as I write this sentence.

Okay, I'm just going to tell you.

We are all adults here and we can handle adult conversations while remaining dignified and mature.

The testosterone cream gave me constant, spontaneous, hours-long boners.

I hadn't experienced anything like it since I was a teenager. No erotic inspiration required other than a gentle breeze. Only this time I didn't have a math book to hide behind.

None of it helped my fatigue.

In fact, the constant bonerpalooza was exhausting to deal with.

"Oh look, that actress I enjoy has a fully exposed ankle." "I bet that attractive lady has boobs under that heavy winter coat." "Hey, is it Wednesday?"

At some point it becomes a chore, ya know?

Thank god it was well before 2014, because if I had seen Chris Evans bicep curling a helicopter I probably would have needed hospitalization.

/end dignified adult conversation

After six months I had 0% of the promised 30-50% improvement 90% of the time and she kept saying I just needed to give it more time. She said it works quicker with the IVs full of orange nonsense. But they custom made those IVs and can only administer them in Detroit. She claimed the oral supplements were filled with the same nonsense, but took much longer to kick in. She told me I could be patient or drive to Detroit once a week for an IV treatment if I wanted faster results. If that were true, I feel like that should have been disclosed at the beginning. But I was assured I could get the same results without the IV treatments.

It didn't matter at that point. My credit cards were maxed out and I was out of money. I called the doctor and asked if there was any treatment she could recommend that was covered by my insurance. She got very quiet and awkwardly said she would try to figure something out. Roughly 30 minutes later I was emailed a coupon for $20 off our next phone consultation. I responded and told her I literally had no money left.

I never heard from her again.

The Wizard had no ability to grant my wish for several trillion properly functioning mitochondrias. She had no magic treatment. I finally saw her for what she truly was.

With perfect hindsight I could now see all of the red flags.

Though if I hadn't at least tried, I probably would have wondered and regretted it.

Hard to say.

I was kind of amazed how they built a country wide collection of clinics and they were able to operate for years solely on the placebo effect.

Years later I was curious what happened to this network of quackery. I found a news article saying it was all shut down due to fraud. I don't think they had a holistic approach to paying their taxes.

The reason I am telling this tale is because I have been playing detective and gathering evidence for my disability case. I started to wonder if maybe I could find my fraudulent Wizard to see if she had any kind of records or something that might help me. I knew it was a long shot, but I didn't want to leave a stone unturned.

At first all I could remember was her last name and that she was a D.O. and not an M.D. Standard Google searches were not turning up anything. I couldn't find her current practice nor any contact information. Apparently her Greek last name is a popular Arabic first name for men... so all my searches kept resulting in doctor dudes. This was not the time for a sausage fest and I was getting frustrated.

And then I finally remembered the name of the medical company.

Fibromyalgia & Fatigue Centers, Inc.

I even remembered their URL... fibroandfatigue.com

So I went to the Wayback Machine and I was able to find their now-defunct website. I suddenly remembered its cloudy banner image and "concerned_woman.png" like it was yesterday.

Why, yes... I am tired of being tired.

I also remembered their promise that over 90% of patients had at least a 30-50% improvement. Which was the claim that sent me down this rabbit hole to begin with all those years ago.

I started searching different versions of the site to see how their claims of effectiveness changed over time. At first they basically implied they made everyone completely better.

If I saw that I would definitely think I was getting a cure. But I imagine this caused some problems so they had to dial it back a bit.

I couldn't find the 90% version, but I did find the 30-50%.

This actually sounds like you have a 100% chance of a 30 to 50% improvement.

As I skipped around to the archived captures of different years, the promised percentage kept changing. I don't think they did an actual statistical analysis of their patients. I think they just picked a percentage that sounded enticing without promising too much. Just enough to be life-changing with a built-in excuse for when it all goes tits up.

Years after my experience, the site finally settled on a 65% improvement in energy levels. It was on their new page detailing how "affordable" their treatment was.

$20,000, you say? Balderdash, no one would spend that much.

If you were curious, they claim their treatment is now affordable due to a new monthly payment plan system. It did not become any cheaper.

However, under the 65% promise, they added this disclaimer with a large bold heading...

Success depends largely on your dedication and commitment. Our most successful patients are the ones who make the commitment to follow the treatment program rigorously. Patients who are aggressive and comply with the treatment process experience significantly better long-term results than those whose dedication is half-hearted and whose compliance is minimal.

In other words, "If our bullshit supplements don't work, it is YOUR fault."

Or in my case... "If you run out of money, it is YOUR fault."

Oh and there was also this...

Looking at all of the versions of the Fibro & Fatigue, Inc website was certainly fascinating, but I had to quit dicking clicking around and find my focus.

I still had detective-ing to do.

I was on the hunt for a Detroit-area Greek doctor of osteopathy.

There were ~250 captures of the site between 2004 and 2016. She wasn't listed in the newest captures, nor the oldest captures. So I kept trying to drill down to find the exact time period she worked at the company.

And then... EUREKA!

She was hiding in 2005 on their "Meet the Doctors" page.

Her first name was *drumroll* Sultana!

I can't imagine why I didn't remember that common first name.

Finally, after weeks of trying to figure this out, I now had enough information to do a proper Google search and discover what the heck she is currently up to. Probably putting people in open-butt gowns to check their tonsils or something.

*googling noises intensify*

I'm not sure I've ever come across such a literal dead end.

Should I be making puns about this?

I mean, she did help exploit me out of my entire life savings and put me in significant credit card debt with the Sex Panther-approved promise of a guaranteed 30-50% recovery 90% of the time.

And the institution she was a part of was shut down for fraud.

Still... I never wished an early death upon her.

I would have been happy with a trip to small claims court.

[alexfromjersey]

LONG ROAD TO GRIEF & RECOVERY

Vada Cavell x G!P OC

word count:

warnings: none

a/n: quick little chapter. I kinda neglected this story for my other Jenna one…sorry 😬.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

GIF by lowkeyvada

“Sleeping Beauty has finally awakened from her slumber”

Deep breath in.

“I’m older than both of you so what I say goes”

Hold it.

“I wish you would just let your balls drop and talk to her. The longing gaze from across the room is so Twilight”

Hold it.

“Happy Birthday youngsters”

Hold it.

“DEVYN!”

Hold it.

“JORDAN!”

Hold it.

“You have to keep your eyes open. Don’t close them”

Exhale.

You let out the breath you were holding into the spirometer. The doctor took the device from you and logged in the numbers. It's been a week since the school shooting. You were shot in your lower abdomen and the bullet lodged into your hip bone. Thankfully, nothing major was nicked or hit, But the doctors had to leave the bullet in otherwise it would cause extensive bleeding.

“Okay Miss Vaughn, your lungs seem clear and strong. But if you start to have trouble breathing or cough/vomit blood, unbearable pain in your hip, go to the ER immediately” The Doctor insisted.

You nodded at his words. Your mother sat in the chair bouncing her leg up and down.

“What about the physical therapy for her leg? Is there a program or something?” Your mom asked.

“There is a physical therapy program we have but without insurance, it costs $250 per session. Based off Jordan’s injury, she will need sessions twice a week” The Doctor explained.

You look over at your mother who seems to be in deep thought. Your face falls when you realize where her thought process is going.

“Okay, thank you Doc” Your mother nodded. She grabs your crutch and helps you to stand. The two of you walk out the office together. You make it to the car and with a bit of a struggle, you manage to get in the front seat.

Your mom gets in the car and pulls out a cigarette. The two of you just sit in silence inside your heads.

“I know what you’re thinking. I know I promised I’ll never go back but…you need those sessions baby” Your mom mumbled.

“I don’t need them. I can do it myself. I can find tutorials on YouTube and do it like that. You don’t have to go back” You said.

“Jordan you’re not a Doctor. You don’t know if doing it yourself will help. These shifts at the diner barely pays the bills and I need you back at 100%” Your mom stated.

You stare out the window with a despondent expression.

“I’m doing this for you. You are my world and I love you forever” Your mom said and grabbed your face to look at her.

You look into her slighted dilated eyes to see nothing but genuine love in them.

“I love you too Mom” You spoke genuinely. Your mom gives you a kiss on the forehead before starting the car.

“Can I go by Quinton’s? I want to check up on him” You asked.

“Of course” Your mom answered.

For the next 15 minutes, you sat in the car with your head against the window looking at the passing scenery. The radio was softly playing in the background and the smell of cigarettes filled the car. You and Quinton hasn’t talk since he told you the news of Devyn passing. You were preoccupied with recovering but you also wanted to give him space to grieve.

It was going to hard moving on with life without Devyn. You felt about the idea. You didn’t want to move on. You wanted to be swallowed up with guilt. Guilt that you survived and he didn’t. Guilt that you could possibly be happy one day.

“Hey Jord, we’re here” Your mom shook you out of your thoughts. You looked up and saw the house you’ve been to numerous times. It felt weird, you started to get nervous. You kept rubbing your sweaty palms on your pants. Your mom took notice and she grabbed your hand.

“Hey, why don’t we go together” Your mom offered.

You swallow harshly and nod at her offer. She gave you an encouraging smile before getting out and coming to your side. She helped you exit the car and walk up the stairs. She knocked on the door for you.

A few moments later, the door opens to reveal Mrs. Hasland.

“I…I” You struggled to find words to say.

Suddenly, you are eloped into a huge. Mrs. Hasland hugged you tightly with tears pouring out her eyes. She kept muttering Thank You Lord into your shoulder over and over again. You wrap your arms around her tightly to return the hug.

Quinton appears from behind his mother. After his mother was finished hugging you, he pulled you into a tight hug too. The two of you pouring everything you needed to say in the hug.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of days go by, you spent most of your time at Quinton’s house since your mother started having her company over. You didn’t want to see the men or hear the noises so you went over to Quinton’s, his parents not minding a bit.

You attended Devyn’s funeral which surprised you and everyone else because you absolutely despised funerals. If you could get out of going to one, you 100% did. But this was Devyn, one of your best friends. You couldn’t not go, you wanted to say goodbye to him one last time. You also didn’t want him to haunt you for not attending.

Another surprise was seeing Mia Reed and Vada at the service. You didn’t expect them to show up at all but you and Quinton appreciated it. The four of you all exchanged socials and phone numbers to keep in contact with one another and check up on each other.

Ding!

The sound of the text message sound brings you out of your thoughts. You grab your phone from the nightstand to see a text message from Vada.

Vada: hey (2:34 am)

Jordan: hey (2:35 am)

Vada: im surprised ur still up (2:35 am)

Jordan: could say the same thing for u (2:36 am)

Vada: i couldn’t sleep. the nightmares wont let me (2:36 am)

Jordan: same (2:37 am)

You watched as the text bubbles pop up and disappear. They pop up again with a new message.

Vada: this is probs a stupid question to ask but how r u? (2:39 am)

You sigh at the question. You could lie and say your okay or you could tell her the truth.

Jordan: fine as I can be. how bout u? (2:42 am)

Vada: good as anyone could be after something like that (2:43 am)

Jordan: understandable answer (2:43 am)

Vada: im sorry about devyn (2:45 am)

Jordan: thnx (2:48 am)

Vada: do u remember anything anything before u passed out (2:51 am)

Jordan: no. all I remember is falling out the stall and then blackness (2:52 am)

Jordan: truth be told I thought I died (2:52 am)

You don’t know why you lied to the girl. Maybe you think you are protecting from remembering anything from that…or protecting yourself.

Vada: we should hang out sometime (2:56 am)

Jordan: we should. when do u want to? (2:57 am)

Vada: maybe this weekend? (2:58 am)

Jordan: im down (2:59 am)

Vada: great 🙂 (3:01 am)

Jordan: 🙂 (3:01 am)

Vada: i should get some sleep. I’ll text u this weekend (3:02 am)

Jordan: looking forward to it (3:03 am)

Vada liked the message and you locked your phone. You placed your phone back on the charger on the nightstand.

“Looking forward to it, ugh” You cringed.

[three--rings]

I didn't plan to do this, but IDK.

My 2023.

This was not a good year for me. Most of the bad came in the second half after my car accident and subsequent inability to walk. My first trauma trip to the ER. Some very dark weeks of pain and inability to move. Followed by very, very slow progress to being more mobile. I have at least six more months of recovery according to the Dr.

Then the absolutely devastating and tragic burning of Lahaina on Maui, where my mom and brother live. Their house was safe but I can't convey the depth of the tragedy that this was for the community. So many dead, so many displaced, so many who lost everything but the clothes on their backs. Rebuilding won't start for years due to needing toxic cleanup. It affected my family directly financially and emotionally, even though they are fortunate.

Followed by my mom being diagnosed with breast cancer and going through treatment for that, which is ongoing.

So yeah the last few months have been rough and I've experienced it all from my bed, not able to really DO anything.

We're all trying to climb out of this hole. We bought a new car to replace the totaled one, with lower payments. My mom's radiation ends in a couple weeks. I'm starting physical therapy to get walking as soon as I get insurance sorted.

One of the things that bothers me a lot mentally is I feel like I haven't DONE anything in the past year. Most of the last six months was me playing video games.

But I made a round 20 books in 2023. I've done several typesets since then, also. I published 55K on AO3. I wish I had gotten to sew more. I basically made one dress that got torn in the wreck and hand-sewed a pirate shirt.

I also, like, don't talk about this at all but I was trying to soft-launch a business in 2023 as well, of selling vintage stuff online. The wreck really ruined that, because I had finally gotten my own car that I was going to use to go hunting and then that.

But I've sold a lot of vintage sewing patterns in the past year. I haven't looked at the total income for the year yet but it's more than zero.

So I need to be kinder to myself. I do plenty, but I've just been extremely restricted for months and I'm losing my mind.

[apsmashrepair]

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[fallenstarzz]

The Kayleigh Day Lives AU - Part 3

Also known as Congratulations, Wymack, it's a boy! He is also already 20 years old and horribly traumatised

So I think that after the banquet Kayleigh goes to some ERC after party to schmooze a bit, maybe with the explicit intention of undermining the rumor of Kevin being better than Riko. Like "do you think I'd let anyone hold MY son back? *Nervous laugh*"

Smash cut to the match between Riko and Kevin

Kayleigh is halfway back to the hotel when she gets Kevin's call. He's immediately locked himself in a bathroom while Jean helps distract Riko.

Now she knows this is BAD bad for a couple reasons. For one, hands have very delicate bones, and full recoveries from severe blunt trauma injuries are hard and rare. Second, there's the fact that this confirms her suspicions that Kevin was being mistreated from behind her back. Third, she knows they won't let her take him to a hospital right now. And last, but not least, it's going to be very hard to get away with double homicide once she gets her hands on Tetsuji and Riko.

Kayleigh has to make a snap judgment if she wants to help her son, in a way that won't put either of them in more danger. She can't trust Tetsuji anymore, so she goes over him.

Now, I don't think she would have access directly to Kengo, but during her years as a Moriyama asset she has amassed enough goodwill she has a few contacts in the main branch. People who are worried about Tetsuji overeaching with his little project.

She calls them and very carefully chooses her words. She says that Riko has dealt Kevin a potential carreer-ending injury and that the best way to control that narrative is going to be playing it off as an accident and taking Kevin out of the public eye for a while, transfering him out of Edgar Allan so people focus on that drama instead of questioning the origin of his injury. She doesn't necessarily threaten going public with what she knows if they don't allow her to take him safely out of the Nest, because she isn't stupid, but it IS implied.

Kayleigh gets half an hour to take Kevin out of the hotel before she herself has to report back. Wherever he's going, she can't come with, as insurance.

That... Somewhat hinders her options.

But, well. David Wymack is in town.

Kevin has found the letter in this universe too, because Tetsuji would have it regardless, but he took Kayleigh at her word when she explained it was for the best that Wymack not know.

This is not a can of worms Kayleigh ever intended to open. But there is a saying about desperate times and desperate measures.

Which is how she ends up picking up Kevin, badly bandaging his hand, and going after the Palmetto State Foxes.

She catches up with them right as they are piling onto the bus to leave. She almost his the bus with her car. It's a mess.

It gets worse once she and Kevin get out, though.

Wymack is alarmed and confused and oh my God Kayleigh what the fuck is your badly injured son doing here.

And she says something to the likes of "First of all, that's OUR badly injured son"

There is a lot of screaming. Dan thinks she's having a stroke. Wymack is torn between confusion and rage. Kevin is going into shock, like, the medical condition. Abby is trying to weave her way to him because someone has to give that boy some actual first aid. Kayleigh's time is running out and she doesn't have time to stand here in this parking lot and justify every questionable decision she has made in the last thirty years. Tetsuji just found out about everything and starts blowing up her phone.

Andrew is crashing from his meds cycle and sleeps through the whole thing.

There is literally no time to untangle any of this, so Kayleigh just tells Wymack that Kevin will explain everything after they take him to the hospital. Preferably in South Carolina because the farther they are from Riko, the better.

No one is happy with this turn of events. It's for certain, though, that things will get a lot worse before it gets better.

On another note, Aaron just won himself like 200 dollars, and it might just be enough to ask that cute cheerleader in his class on a nice date.

[elena-mayfair]

Will you help me?

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, horror, slow burn Warnings: rating T+/M, blood and gore, violence, strong language, themes of depression and suicide Summary: When in distress seek help from friends. But what if friends have proven to be untrustworthy? What if there is no one to turn to for help? How to establish new relationships? Sometimes all it takes is one simple question: will you help me? Word count: 8k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Chapter one: Bright future, dark city Chapter two: Curious people Chapter three: Madness and old friends Chapter four: I am innocent

***

"Do you like scars? Do scars make the man?," you hummed under your breath the lyrics of the song playing through the speakers as you stared in the mirror at the deep cut healing on your arm. Four stitches, seemingly not much and yet the scar would become a sure reminder of the day you almost drowned. After two weeks, the wound had almost healed, leaving a pale red thin line decorated with dots on the sides where the stitches had been just a few days ago. Two weeks were enough to heal the surface wounds. For the purple-green bruise that painfully scored your body to disappear almost completely, for the brown scab to fall off showing softly pink flesh, for the number of pain pills you took every day to decrease from eight to two. Two weeks, enough time to heal the wounds on your body, enough time to recover, enough time for rest and regeneration, time which you spent locked up in your apartment isolated from everyone…time not nearly enough to heal the wounds that were not visible at first glance.

"There are still good people in this world," you repeated each day as you replayed the events of that evening over and over again, trying to push them out of your mind. The indifferent look in the rearview mirror, the car speeding through the city, the cold metal touch on your forehead, the two wrecked cars, the creepy grin, the gunshots, the maniacal laughter…

Indifference…

"There are still good people in this world," you insisted, clenching your eyes as if that would somehow help push the images away. Black rapid water, screeching tires, impact, yanking, pain, cold, panic, water rising, horror…

Fear…

"There are still good people in this world," you repeated once again, forcefully pushing away the recurring images. There was Lucius Fox, who, in a compassionate and understanding email, assured you that all medical expenses were covered by insurance provided by the company. Lucius Fox, who assured you that you don't have to worry about your job or your place in the company, and you are to take as much sick leave as necessary. Lucius Fox, who personally signed a card wishing you a quick recovery that was attached to a small package delivered by a courier, containing a new phone. "'With wishes for a swift recovery, from the company,'" not many words and yet a faint smile appeared on your face.

"Yes…there are good people in the world…" such as your colleagues at work who, despite knowing each other for a relatively short time, sent you a sincere and kind message. Such as the policewoman who made sure you arrived home safely by escorting you to your door. Such as the paramedics who, seeing your fear and stubbornness in refusing to be taken to the hospital, showed great understanding and kindness in attending to your wounds at home. Such as the doctor who visited you twice at your home. Such as the Chinese food delivery guy who knocked on your door every other day…such as….

Kindness…a concerned look, a warm tone, a gentle assistance when your legs refused to obey you, a kind smile…Nightwing.

Hope…the light shining in the darkness of the water, the muffled explosion heralding rescue, the strong sure grip on your body, the life he took from his lips to give to you…Batman.

Support…the phone call answered in the middle of the night when you woke up from a nightmare drenched in sweat, the words of reassurance and comfort spoken each time when fear rose within you all over again, the understanding and empathy when you refused to recount your experiences in detail, the quiet empathy when he visited you at home time and again whenever you had no strength to go out…Jonathan Crane.

Over the past two weeks, Professor Crane proved to be your greatest support and your only contact with the outside world. The initial information about the car accident was enough to swap visits at his office for home visits. The suggestion came from him, he argued that if you felt up to it would be advisable not to interrupt the therapy process you had started. He explained that especially now, in a situation of increased stress, your mind becomes more susceptible to negative thoughts and feelings. Initially, you refused. The idea of having a psychiatrist come to your home, your safe place, your oasis of peace, seemed wrong. You only accepted the suggestion of sedative medication, which was delivered to your home. You appreciated the gesture and understanding, simply going to the pharmacy seemed like a mission for which you did not have the strength. However, this situation only lasted for two days. The night before day three, you woke up terrified in the middle of the night certain that the Joker had found you. That he was sitting in your living room, turning a gun in his hand, that as soon as you came out of your bedroom you would see him, that wide creepy smile, hear his maniacal laughter, feel the bullet piercing your body. "Hello toots!" he will say, "did you really think you would get away with it! HA!" he will snarl, "did you really think that you can drive a car off the road and be done with me?! HA HA HA HA HA!" he will laugh as a fired bullet will pierce your stomach.

Fright paralyzed you completely making you unable to move from the bed. Fright so sure of his presence. Horror fueled by the awareness of your complete loneliness, the absence of anyone you could call, anyone who could come, anyone you could turn to for help, you were alone. Not thinking much, you dialed the Professor's number, and to your surprise he answered. For an hour he talked to you on the phone, trying to calm you down and convince you to come out to the living room, but when that didn't help, he got in his car and drove to your home in the middle of the night.

***

~~Few days earlier~~

"You need to come to the door and open it," Professor Crane's voice echoed on the other side of the line, "I'm at the door."

"I can't…" you replied in a weak voice. Your heart pounded in your chest with each beat making it harder to breathe. Curled up against the bedroom wall, with your knees drawn to your chest, you stared at the door in horror, anxiously awaiting the moment when it would open to reveal the shiny gun metal.

"You have to…" Crane replied.

"He's there…" you whispered, "if I open the door… he is there… he will kill me…"

"Y/N think about it," Crane said in a calm controlled tone, "I know you are terrified. You are experiencing a panic attack. Your body is probably shaking, your pulse is accelerated, cold sweat is covering your skin," he listed the symptoms, "You are having a panic attack."

"But Joker…"

"Think," he interrupted you, "I know it's difficult at the moment but think for a second. If the Joker was actually in your apartment, would he wait for you to come out of your bedroom? If you didn't wake up, would he wait until morning? If he was really in your apartment, would he wait and risk you calling 911?"

"He could…"

"Y/N!" Crane raised his voice, "Do you think he wouldn't have heard our conversation through the door? Do you think if he heard it he wouldn't react?"

"He's insane…"

"Y/N open the door."

"I can't."

"Get up and open the door."

"I'm afraid…"

"Y/N!"

"I'm sorry…"

"Open the fucking door!" he shouted commandingly. It worked.

With your legs shaking, you slowly got up from the bed and cautiously opened the bedroom door, carefully looking out first, ready to close them immediately. The living room was empty, exactly as you had left it the previous evening. There was no sign of anyone's presence. No shoe marks on the floor, no furniture moved, no smell, no Joker.

"Y/N, are you there?" you heard on the phone which you still held tightly to your ear. You didn't answer, instead you headed for the front door behind which Crane was waiting.

"There's no one here…" you whispered in a weak voice, opening the door wide and looking at the Professor. He stood there, wearing a dark brown coat, looking at you intently. He, too, was pressing the phone to his ear. "There's no one here…" you repeated while your body shook again.

"Can I come in?"

You moved away from the door letting him in.

"It was all so real…" you tried to explain weakly. You leaned against the door and slid slowly to the floor. Adrenaline was leaving your body like air through a punctured balloon. "I, I was sure, I was convinced that he was here."

"The mind can be very decieving…" Crane looked around the apartment as if despite everything he wanted to make sure you were alone. He checked the other rooms, the bedroom, the bathroom, and for a moment even looked out the window, simultaneously making sure it was closed.

"I couldn't imagine it…" you argued in a half whisper, "it was too real."

"Traumatic experiences can trigger in a person anxiety levels so strong that imagination can seem real," Crane explained. He squatted in front of you and his green eyes looked straight into yours, "are you hurt?" he asked, "can you stand up?"

"I think so…" you nodded uncertainly then, grasping Crane's outstretched hand, you got up on your feet.

"Alright…" belaying you, Crane walked you over to the couch, turned on the soft lamp light, then sat down across from you and once again began to pierce you with his gaze, "Then now tell me, why would the Joker want to kill you? What exactly happened two weeks ago?"

And so you did. Two cups of tea and three hours later, Crane knew everything. Every little detail starting from the party at 44 Below, to your first encounter with Batman, to Joker's Arkham brakeout, ending up with Batman and Nightwing's rescuing you after you drove the car of the road. Every single feeling, every single thought, every single fear, fascination, emotion, thought. Every most trivial detail. You hid nothing, for the first time you were completely honest with him. With a flow of words, you poured out everything that was sitting inside you, and you had to admit that you felt damn good about it. Crane only listened. Sitting comfortably on the couch next to you, sipping tea, he did not interrupt, did not comment, only listened without taking his penetrating eyes off you.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked when you finished the story.

"Good," you replied without hesitation, "really good…" you added at the sight of a smile on Crane's face, "but I'm afraid this intervention is going to tug hard on my wallet."

"Don't worry about that now. We're finally talking honestly, you finally lowered your guard enough to open up to me. Don't bother with trivial matters now."

"I needed this, I'll admit it. I needed to get it off my chest, and let's be honest, I don't have anyone to talk to. We've already established that. And the only person I considered a friend….well…. let's just say that I wasn't wrong for not trusting people."

"And yet you trusted me."

"That's different. My emotional exhibitionism is driven by pure selfishness and the need to throw out negative emotions. After what happened today, you might as well be a pizza delivery guy," you quipped.

"Would you also call a pizza delivery guy in the middle of the night paralyzed with fear?" he smirked.

"I guess not," you chuckled, "why did you come?"

"It's not unusual for a psychotherapist to respond to a crisis situation, even in the middle of the night," even though his words sounded serious and professional something completely different shone in his eyes. A mystery, a dangerous gleam, betraying something contrary to the spoken words.

"Thank you," you looked confidently into the cryptic green, "I didn't know what to do. I was afraid. You were…" you hesitated, "you were the first person I thought of," you lied hiding your embarrassment in your tea cup. He wasn't. But the person you thought of was not someone you could call in the middle of the night, even if you had the possibility to do so. "Why did I thought of him…." you rebuked yourself in your mind.

"Something is bothering you," Crane noticed.

"Many things bother me," you replied evasively.

"I thought we were over word games…"

"Because we are," you sighed in resignation, "forgive me. I guess that's my habit."

"If you want we can go back to standard questions like 'how do you feel about it', 'do you want to talk about it'," he smiled mischievously.

"No, thank you!" you denied immediately, "you don't even realize how annoying these questions are."

"So talk."

You took another sip of tea and gazed at the full moon rising against the black sky. A moon that involuntarily made you think of the Batman signal lighting up the night sky. The symbol of the Dark Knight, the protector of Gotham. The symbol of hope that there is someone in this world who cares.

"For the last two weeks I've been cooped up at home and I've been doing some reading…" you began, still staring at the sky outside the window, "colleagues recently joked that I have little chance of ever finding myself in the middle of a fight between Batman and Gotham's psychos. And yet here we are."

"Wrong place, wrong time."

"Possibly," you replied quietly, "But with spare time on my hands and a million questions in my head, for the past two weeks I've done nothing but read newspapers, archived posts, blogs, forums. How is it possible that I have never heard anything about this before?!" you threw a frustrated question, angrily looking into the green gleam, "how the fuck is that possible that I never ever heard anything about Batman, Nightwing, Robin, Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow?! How?! It seems like it is fairly common knowledge! It seems that every big city has its own Batman! So tell me Professor, how come I never heard any of it?!" Crane answered nothing, clearly taken aback by your question, "Like dude can fucking fly! And it seems like this is the first time I ever heard about it!"

"I think you already have the answer to this rhetorical question," Crane stated.

"Something is missing…" you sighed heavily, "something is not right with me…" you tapped angrily with your finger on the side of your forehead, "something is not right in my head. I feel like I should know these things, and yet I don't. I feel like I'm missing part of my mind. Like there are gaps in there, missing pieces which I cannot find," your gaze met his again and hung on for longer than was polite, "Will you help me? Will you help me find the missing pieces?"

"I will," he replied without a moment's hesitation, "but it will require a different approach. If it is indeed as you think, if indeed some parts of your mind are blocked, it will not be enough to simply talk it through. I will expect you to be completely honest and trusting."

"I can do that."

"Good. Let's start from changing the dynamic of our relationship," he scooted closer to you, set his tea cup down on the table then extended his hand to you, "Jonathan," he smiled anticipating your reaction.

You only shook his hand with a smile on your face and relief in your heart certain that you did the right thing by telling him about your worries. Confident that you could count on his help.

***

"Hey isn't that the girl we rescued last time?!" Dick Grayson asked at the sight of the photo and personal file displayed on the Batcomputer screen. Dressed in sweatpants and a tight tank top with a towel hung around his neck and a water bottle in his hand, he was rubbing sweat from his forehead after intense training. His younger foster brother followed him closely step by step, exhaustion painting on his face. Tim was eager to work, to train, to improve his skills, and the years of practice Dick had had over him posed a satisfying challenge.

"The one who tried to drown Joker?" Tim asked standing behind Bruce's chair.

"Yup, the one!" Dick replied, "She got some fight in here! She would rather drove care of the road into the bay than get the Joker to his destination! That's impressive!"

"Is she a friend or foe?!" Tim inquired.

"I don't know yet," Bruce replied without taking his eyes off the monitor, "She works for me."

"What?!"

"How come?!"

"She works at Wayne Tech, we hired her less than two months ago," Bruce replied in a poised voice upon hearing their simultaneous question, "I've had the opportunity to talk to her a few times."

"And?"

"And I can't tell if she's really an innocent victim of circumstance or just a good con artist."

"Do you want me to keep an eye on her?" Tim asked, "I could keep tabs on her for a while, see where she goes, who she hangs out with, what she does after work."

"No, Tim," Bruce refused immediately, "if she is indeed a crook sooner or later she will reappear under not very favorable circumstances and then we will have grounds to be suspicious of her. For the time being, we must assume that she is innocent, as she claims. Besides, as Bruce Wayne, I will have the opportunity to keep an eye on her every day. And as Batman… I want to take on this case personally."

"But…" Dick tried to object yet Bruce didn't give him a chance.

"We have more important things to deal with," Bruce interrupted him by minimizing Y/N's photo, "another victim. Marc Phillips, age forty-five, pilot," a photo of a middle-aged brunet appeared on the computer screen.

"The pilot of the avionette from which the newlyweds jumped," Dick stated, quickly tracing with his eyes over the text on the screen.

"That's right," Bruce confirmed, "After the incident he was under the psychological observation by Professor Jonathan Crane, he stayed in the psychiatric ward of Elliot Memorial Hospital, from which he was released two days ago."

"What happened?" Tim asked unable to find an answer on the screen.

"He hung himself."

Silence fell in the cave as all three began to analyze the facts and the cause-and-effect sequence in their minds. Each of them knew that there was an element of strangeness in the previous victims, an element of the unusual and untold that connected them all. Suicide by hanging had nothing inexplicable about it.

"It doesn't make any sense," Dick began, "I mean it makes sense, but at the same time it doesn't make sense. Oh you know what I mean!"

"It doesn't fit the residual pattern we've had so far," Tim joined in, "the guy hung himself. There's a cause and a reason."

"I want you to inspect his apartment," Bruce informed, finally getting up from the computer and looking at them, " inspect his apartment, talk to the Elliot Memorial staff, and most importantly Professor Crane. His file is perfectly clean, which doesn't change the fact that we can't exclude him from the suspects list."

"What about you?"

"I have an interrogation to attend to."

***

Gotham by day was not much different from Gotham during the night. Thick rain clouds usually hung over the city effectively blocking the sun shrouding the city in a damp sheen. The wet streets and buildings reflected the city lights dressing the city in a veil of mysticism and secrecy. Walking through the city you didn't feel overwhelmed, quite the opposite. Despite the thick clouds in the sky, the brisk air from the bay allowed you to breathe fully, for the first time in weeks. For a moment you forgot where and for what purpose you were going, allowing yourself to once again admire the mysterious beauty of the city, marvel at the million lights and colors refracted in the droplets of water, gaze at the statues carved into the buildings' walls seemingly crying over the fate of the inhabitants, gargoyles lurking on the rooftops appearing to drool at the sight of their victims. The beauty and menace of the city seemed to clash with each other at every turn as if battling for dominance over the city and its citizens. Every alley seemed to hide a mystery, every street seemed to teem with secrets deeply hidden. Gotham was dangerous but also beautiful. For around the next corner, a frantic death could be waiting to herald the end of the adventure, or a laughing group of children in their innocence kicking a ball joyfully, a sign of goodness and purity that had to be protected.

Lost in thought, lost between delight and fear, you didn't notice when your feet led you to the First Gotham City Police District building. A building that was a perfect representation of the city itself. Modern style merged with age-old classics. The central part of the building wore the signs of the age, while the modern wings on the sides, although initially appearing incongruous with the rest, effectively brought the building into the 21st century. In the center of the tall clock tower a blue GCPD glowed, while gargoyles positioned on the sides seemed to keep a watchful eye on the surroundings.

The interior proved to be a perfect reflection of its exterior and an even more appropriate deepening of Gotham's atmosphere. Dark, stuffy, dusty, shrouded in a yellowish light that seemed too dim to meet health and safety requirements. Cigarette smoke lingered in the air ignoring more regulations and laws. On old-fashioned cluttered desks stood modern computers bearing the Wayne Tech logo bringing an element of modernity to the age-old interior. From an office nearby, raised voices could be heard indicating a confrontation behind closed doors. A little farther behind bars, several criminals were taunting the cops, doing their worst to provoke them. Someone reported a theft, someone else a missing person, another a beating. Fragments of conversations between police officers drew a picture of deep-rooted crime.

"I'm telling you Frank, Maroni will go to war with Falcone! It's only a matter of time!" said one.

"Don't even joke like that! We don't need a gang war now when the Joker has escaped from Arkham!" countered the other.

"He didn't escape, he got busted out."

"By two chicks! Can you imagine?"

"Yeah, trust me, I can," the man laughed rubbishly, "chick who has the balls to bust Joker out of the Asylum must have some imagination if you know what I mean."

"Damnn man, you are sick!"

You shuddered at their words as if something disgusting had touched your skin. "What a pig," you thought and headed for the reception desk behind which a young policewoman was drowning in paperwork.

"Excuse me," you snapped her out of her work, "My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I was supposed to report to the police station to provide a statement."

"Y/N Y/L/N," the policewoman lifted her gaze from above the documents and looked at you with a gentle smile, "yes, yes…Arkham case…" she said more to herself while searching the computer for information, "Commissioner Gordon is in his office waiting for you. Please follow me," she stated and gestured you deeper into the building.

The commissioner's office situated on a small rise in the central part of the police station towered above everything as if emphasizing his presence and authority. A yellowish light shone through the glass walls from within, gently illuminating the entire precinct, bringing to your mind a faint ray of hope breaking through the darkness and gloom. Inside, the office was as messy and hazy as the entire post. Despite the large centrally located windows, it seemed murky and tight. The central part brightly lit contrasted so much with the black corners hidden in shadow. Thick cigarette smoke drifted against the yellow warm light. Cigarette butts spilled out of an ashtray that fought for its place on the desk with coffee cups and stacks of documents and folders. Stacks of files were crammed on shelves and in boxes piled against the wall and on the floor around the desk even more than everything else so far informing you of the scale of crime in Gotham. The commissioner sat behind his desk bent over the files with a cigarette hanging at his lips as if not paying attention to his surroundings.

"Commissioner Gordon," the policewoman began.

"I told you I am busy," Gordon muttered under his breath, "if nothing is burning or exploding Bullock can handle it."

"Miss Y/L/N to see you, Commissioner," she finished, announcing your presence forcing the commissioner to raise his eyes from over his papers and interrupt his work.

"Thank you, Alice," he turned to the policewoman changing his tone of voice, "find Bullock and send him to me please," he instructed, "Miss Y/L/N please sit down," he turned to you pointing to a chair on the other side of the desk.

You took the seat opposite him, and although you tried very hard to remain calm and composed you were sure that Gordon clearly saw nerves and uncertainty in your movements. You involuntarily looked around the room wanting to register every little detail, returning your gaze again and again to the dark corners shrouded in shadow.

"Would you like something to drink?" Gordon asked politely, "the coffee is dreadful but it gets the job done."

"No, thank you," you replied just as kindly.

"I see you're feeling better now," Gordon continued, "I'm glad, and thank you for showing up."

"Did I have a choice?" you asked without thinking, momentarily regretting not biting your tongue.

"We brought you in to give a statement, you are not under suspicion in any way," Gordon explained, "nor do we have any grounds to interrogate you against your will."

"So if I want I can leave and refuse to testify?" since you had already started there was no point in backing out.

"You can," Gordon confirmed, "but I think it would look very suspicious. Would you agree with me?"

"I think you're right," you admitted quietly.

The door opened abruptly and a second man entered the office. Medium height with a heavier physique, another picture of contrast and clash of two contradictions. His lengthy hair and several days of facial stubble expressed nonchalance and neglect, yet his suit blazer, shirt and tie showed professionalism and elegance.

"Miss Y/L/N, my partner, Detective Bullock," Gordon introduced the man.

"Right, so how was it with the Joker and his girlfriend," Bullock leaned against the glass wall of the office and asked directly, "We know you helped him escape, we know you were the driver of the car the Joker used to escape," Bullock didn't plan to play nice.

"I... it's not quite like that…" you began.

"During the escape, you broke more than a dozen laws, caused two accidents, and damage to public property," Bullock listed, "three people are in the hospital of which one is in serious condition and fighting for life."

"I'm sorry…" you cringed at the sound of your own words, knowing very well how pathetic that sounded.

"Sorry ain't gonna cover that sweetheart! You gotta work with us here."

"It's not like I had any choice…" you tried to defend quietly.

"We can book you for complicity and charge you with a fine," he added.

"And what about the assumption of innocence?" you looked at Bullock defiantly.

"It went to shit the moment you pressed on the gas."

"Miss Y/L/N, please tell us how it happened that you were dragged into this situation," Gordon interjected into the conversation, adopting the role of a good cop, "everything, with details."

"I didn't know," you looked at him trying to sound as sincere as you could, "I had no idea. I was asked by a friend to pick up her boyfriend, who was returning from a short vacation. I had no reason not to agree."

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel," Gordon inserted.

"That's right," you confirmed, seeing no point in hiding her identity.

"How long have you known each other?"

"Most of our lives," you replied, "we grew up together, went to school together, we used to be inseparable. Then, life happened and we just each went our separate ways. Harleen moved out to Gotham and I stayed in my hometown with my family and contact just stopped."

"And yet you decided to renew it," Gordon continued.

"I recently moved to Gotham, I don't know anyone here, I thought it was a good opportunity to renew an old friendship."

"Why did you move to Gotham?" Bullock cut in.

"For work."

"As a Joker's getaway driver?"

"No!" you denied angrily, "As an engineer at Wayne Enterprises. You can check it out. I was hired at Wayne Tech as an engineer. Lucius Fox is my direct supervisor."

"We know," Gordon stated, "what was happening on the eve of the Joker's escape? You were seen at 44 Below." A cold shiver ran down your spine when you realized how bad it all looked.

"I met Harleen for the first time in years," you began to explain, "I don't know the city very well yet, so I decided to rely on her."

"Didn't it seem suspicious to you that you were going to a club beneath a club?"

"She said her boyfriend knew the owner and that it was a VIP club," you replied, "I had no reason not to trust her."

"And then? Nothing seemed suspicious to you?"

"At times, sure," you admitted, "strange types watching us, drinks appearing out of nowhere, it was unusual, but I was happy to spend time with my friend, I didn't want to look like a freak, and also alcohol did its job."

"Please continue the story," Gordon encouraged.

"Everything was pretty normal until we were invited to the owner's office," you continued, and you had to admit to yourself that now as you were telling the story out loud in front of the cops, it sounded very bad, "Harleen called him Ozzy, a short corpulent man. There was another one, big and stocky, Harleen seemed to know him," you recalled from memory, "Butch, she called him Butch."

"Oswald Cobblepot and Butch Gilzean," Bullock threw in.

"There were a few others there as well, I think security guards," you continued, "I refused to go inside."

"Why?"

"Something felt off," you countered, "I'm sorry don't have a better explanation."

"What happened next?"

"Batman happened," you replied quietly, "Batman fell out of the ceiling," you repeated looking Gordon in the eyes, "he jumped out through the ceiling vent grate, beat everyone up in a snap, and told us to leave."

"Just like that?" Bullock questioned.

"I didn't ask him why," you furrowed your eyebrows, "I almost shit myself when he jumped out of the ceiling. Sorry, but I didn't give a shit about his reasons!"

"Alright, that was Saturday," you followed Gordon's voice with your eyes, "What happened on Sunday?"

You calmed your blood pressure, regretting not asking for a glass of water, and continued.

"As I mentioned earlier, Harleen asked me to go with her to pick up her boyfriend who she said was returning from a short vacation. She was very eager for me to meet him, so I didn't refuse even though I didn't feel like socializing after the Saturday events."

"After all that happened you just said yes?" Bullock inquired.

"I know how it looks, but I didn't even have time to think about it all," you replied, "more than that, I looked at everything through the prism of our friendship."

"Continue please," Gordon encouraged.

"Harleen didn't tell me where we were going, and I didn't ask. I was tired and lost in thought. In the car, we talked about her work at Arkham Asylum, and we got into a discussion about how dangerous that job was and how dangerous Gotham was. Trivial matters of life decisions and supporting each other, the kind that friends talk about. Although now as I recall that conversation, it takes on a whole different context…" you remarked quietly, "anyways, Harleen said she wanted to drive up to Arkham on the way because the doctors were donating blood on Sundays and now it was her turn. I had no reason to suspect a lie."

"What happened next?"

"Harleen went to the hospital and I stayed in front of the gate by the car. She was gone for a long time. And suddenly I heard an explosion and sirens! I was scared that something had happened!"

"Why didn't you run away? A normal person would have run away," Bullock threw in another question.

"I was worried about my friend! You have my recording! I called 911, reported the incident and seriously for a moment I wanted to go into the Asylum and look for her! I was afraid for her! But before I could go in I saw her from a distance running. I had her on the phone, she was screaming for me to start the engine. I thought she was running away from whatever was going on there. I didn't think twice! I jumped in the car and started the engine. She shouted, urged me on, everything happened very fast…" you recounted in one breath, "I didn't even look at the seat next to me. Only at the moment when the Joker put the gun to my head did I realize what was really happening."

"But you didn't stop the car," Bullock noted.

"Did you skip the part where the Joker put the gun to my forehead, detective?" you fumed angrily, "again, I've never been in a situation like that, obviously! I didn't know what to do! Everything happened very quickly! Only screaming and a gun to my forehead! I was trying not to kill us and at the same time not to kill anyone along the way! And then everything sped up even more when Batman appeared out of nowhere! So forgive me, Detective Bullock, but I didn't think, I reacted to the situation! Joker as soon as he saw Batman started shooting! I was afraid that he would shoot one of the people walking by, I was afraid that I would cause a crash! I tried to maneuver through traffic and not cause an accident!"

"How did it happen that you drove off the road?" Gordon asked softly.

"I did it on purpose," you replied as if slightly embarrassed.

"On purpose?"

"The situation escalated, I knew Harleen was a great swimmer, it seemed the only way out of the situation. I didn't want anyone innocent to get hurt."

"Weren't you concerned for yourself?"

"I wasn't thinking," you replied, "I wanted to stop all this. Driving off the road seemed the best solution at that moment."

"How did you get out of the car?"

"Batman pulled me out," you replied, "he saved my life…." you added in a half-whisper.

Silence fell when you finished telling the story. Gordon and Bullock exchanged meaningful glances as if they were wordlessly exchanging thoughts. Your gaze wandered once again to a dark corner of the commissioner's office hidden in shadows an anxious shiver ran down your spine. The shadow seemed to have a shape.

"Alright,'" Gordon broke the silence, "we have no more questions. Detective Bullock will escort you to the exit. Please do not leave the city and remain available should we have any more questions."

"Commissioner, what about Harleen? Have you found her? Is she safe?" you asked unable to hide the worry in your voice.

"Harleen Quinzel remains wanted with a warrant for her arrest. Her whereabouts are currently unknown," Gordon stated before thanking you again for your time and closing the door behind you.

*

Gordon watched Bullock and Y/N walking away for a moment before turning the lock on the door and sitting down again behind the desk, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag while slowly letting the smoke out.

"What do you think?" he asked into the space.

"I think she is telling the truth," a growly voice answered from the shadows.

"Yes, I think so too. Poor girl. I haven't seen such bad luck in one person for a long time," he sighed heavily.

"Though just because she doesn't lie doesn't change the fact that we have to keep an eye on her. Her history with Qunizel and genuine concern for her safety makes me think that Miss Y/L/N still has a role to play. Either of her own will or in spite of it."

"You want me to put APB on her?"

"No. I will handle this myself."

"I'm sure you've heard about the pilot," Gordon added after a moment, letting out a puff of smoke, "have you had a chance to check out his apartment yet?"

"I've got Nightwing and Robin working on it as we speak," Batman replied, "I'll let you know when I know something."

"Batman, I don't think there's any connection. The guy hung himself!" Gordon began to think aloud receiving only a cold breath of air in response. The shadow was just an empty shadow again. Batman was gone.

***

Across town in a small suite on the second floor of an apartment building once lived Marc Phillips. Marc was an average man, working as a car mechanic by day, earning just enough to live an average life and pay alimony. Marc wasn't proud of his average life, but he was proud of his avionette. A beautiful little plane that he loved more than his own wife, although he never admitted it. He cherished it, cared for it, looked after it like it was the most precious treasure. Mark didn't quite like his average life, but he loved the moments when he took the avionette into the air above streets and buildings and skyscrapers. Yes, in those moments Marc felt he was alive. How happy he was when his closest friend found a lovely woman he wanted to marry. She was a good, honest woman, the kind Marc had met very few in his life. How proud he was when he was able to offer them a private flight in his beautiful avionette for their dream honeymoon. How despaired he was when all that joy splashed into a wet stain on the dirty pavement. Marc knew that if he was gone no one would take care of his beautiful avionette, his greatest pride. As he put the loop around his neck, he imagined how rust ruined and ate away the red paint, how moisture covered the blue with a foul green hue. Yet that evening Marc wanted to feel free. He wanted all his fears and anxieties to disappear. He wanted to rise above his mediocre life one last time. His last flight, however, turned out to be short, just half a meter, which was given to him by a knocked-down chair. Then came the darkness.

"Bills, payment notices, signed divorce papers, nothing interesting," Tim was browsing through a dresser drawer, looking for anything that might provide a link to the investigation.

"Standard rope probably purchased at Home Depot. Good strong weave, zero rush, looks like he was tying it for two days," Dick looked closely at the marks, "he knew full well what he was doing. The rope was woven tightly with a triple twist, leaving no chance of breaking. The length was chosen almost perfectly, considering the height of the chair."

"Poor bastard," Tim muttered under his breath, "what do we know about his psychiatrist?"

"Professor Jonathan Crane. A renowned psychiatrist, specializing mainly in trauma, PTSD, and phobias. Born in Gotham, he graduated from Gotham University with honors. He later worked at Metropolis General Hospital and the Royal Memorial Hospital in Star City. Recently, he has become the head of the psychiatric wing at Elliot Memorial."

"Isn't that chick who broke the Joker out of Asylum a psychiatrist as well?" Tim asked inquisitively.

"Hey, just because we have two psychiatrists on file doesn't mean they have any connection to each other, Robin," Dick corrected his brother.

"A bit too much of a coincidence don't you think?" Tim countered and returned to searching through the drawers, "Hey Nightwing?!"

"Yup?"

"Didn't Batman seem more cryptic than usual to you today?"

"Yup!"

"He's hiding something."

"Yup!"

"Do you think it has something to do with that girl?"

"Yup!"

"Hey, I found the pills!"

"Good job Robin!" Nightwing applauded as he walked over to his brother, "Damn, a whole drawer of pills."

"Sedatives, sleeping pills, antidepressants," Robin looked at each bottle separately to finally stop at one, "these I don't know," he stated lifting a small bottle to the light.

"Neither do I," Nightwing stated looking at the pill, "take them, take them all. This is the only trace so far."

"Not quite!" Robin grinned, raising the folder of documents to eye level, "hospital discharge and diagnosis!" he announced with a smirk.

"Jackpot! Our job is done here."

***

If one would raise his eyes upward and look at the evening sky casting its blackness over the city he would see nothing. He would not see the black figure rising and falling between the buildings, spreading his cape and gliding above the city. He would not have noticed the calm face and keen eyes scanning the city intently. He wouldn't have noticed the discreet turns of his head picking up on disturbing sounds. He would not have heard his cape flapping in the wind, would not have noticed the worry painted on his face at the sight of the huddled figure sitting on the edge of the bridge leading to Gotham North. From the street, it was hard to see the black figure in the starless sky. Yet Batman could see everything. He perched on the building's rooftop close enough to see everything yet far enough away to remain unnoticed. She was sitting there, exactly where the metal railings had been until two weeks ago. Black leather jacket, heavy boots, her hair loose and dancing in the wind, she seemed distant. Gazing into the rough waters of the bay, she seemingly carelessly waved her legs hanging off the bridge. "Why would she come here?" he wondered, "what is she hiding?"

For a moment he thought of leaving her there. For a moment he considered turning his back to her and carrying on with his patrol. For a moment he was convinced that he shouldn't approach her, that this was a very bad move. And yet there was something wrong with the sad picture he was observing, something that wouldn't let him just walk away. Zooming in on her face, he realized that something was missing. He was missing the feisty smile he had come to know, the carefree laugh and that adorable embarrassment. The picture was broken. He couldn't simply ignore it. He gently jumped off the roof and soared toward her landing softly a few steps away, careful not to scare her.

"Don't jump," he murmured quietly as he approached her slowly. She shuddered and turned abruptly, too abruptly for his liking.

"Batman…" she gasped with widened eyes.

"You're not planning to jump are you?"

"No," she replied shortly, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm the one who should be asking you that."

"I'm waiting," she replied without taking her eyes off him.

"Waiting for what?"

"A miracle, I guess,'" she quipped, "my phone died in the water, and Harleen doesn't respond to my messages on Insta, Messenger and Twitter. Don't know why, but I was kinda hoping that I would find her here."

"You shouldn't be looking for her."

"She's my friend!" she fumed angrily, "if nothing else at least she owes me an explanation."

"Let it go. She has made her choices."

"It's so easy for you to judge people Batman?" she asked and looked away gazing once again at the water below, "it's so easy for you to cross someone out? Maybe it's not what you think it is?"

Batman did not answer immediately. Part of Bruce knew he shouldn't, yet he drowned out that voice. He sat down next to her on the edge of the bridge and fixed his eyes on the raising waves.

"Then tell me how you think it is…" out of the corner of his eye he saw her flinch slightly surprised by his action, but she did not take her gaze off the water.

"Harleen is a good person. All her life she has wanted to help people. That's why she chose her specialty. She has always said that there is a stigma against people with mental disorders, especially those who commit crimes. She objected to the statement that the criminally insane cannot be cured. She always said that she would prove to ignorant people that illness, any illness, can be cured or at least mitigated," Y/N said and Batman listened in silence, "Does that sound to you like a description of someone you treat like a criminal?"

"No," he admitted, "but I, unlike you, know something you don't."

"Which is?"

"I know who the Joker is."

"Another reason to consider her his victim, not his accomplice," Y/N stated stubbornly, "you know she's a wanted criminal?"

"I know."

"I'll find her first and prove that she, like me, is just an innocent victim of circumstance," fierceness flashed in her eyes and Bruce realized that there were no words that could stop her, "I'll find her before the cops find her, before you do!" she furrowed her brows angrily and tightened her hands on the edge of the bridge. Bruce knew this fierceness well. He saw it many times in Dick's eyes, Jason's, Tim's, in his own each time he looked in the mirror.

"You almost drowned," he tried to appeal to her sense of self-preservation, "you almost died in there," he looked at her but she stubbornly stared into the water.

"You saved me…" she whispered finally, "And I thank you for that," he did not comment. "Thank you also for sending paramedics to my house."

"You're welcome."

"How did you know where I live?"

"I didn't," he lied, "The policewoman knew."

"Right…"

"Leave the Harleen case to me and the cops," he insisted gently, "two weeks ago you almost drowned. Leave it. Go back to your normal life, to your family, to your job."

"I can't…" she replied before adding after a brief pause, "you're right, I almost died. I should have died. Every day I get from now on is a gift. I can't just go back to work and normal life. I can't leave her."

"I can't let you put yourself in danger and potentially hinder the investigation."

"Then help me,"" she snapped her eyes and looked straight into his own, "Will you help me, Batman?"

***

Chapter six: Choices that define us ~~***~~

Author note: It took a while but here we are at the end of chapter five! Thank you for your patience. I'm really trying to publish chapters as consistently as I can but unfortunately, there is work and other responsibilities. And these chapters, well they do take time. I hope it was worth the wait! We had slow down a bit, take a breather after chapter four, tighten the plot, so we could pick up the pace again. Besides, I am really enjoying slow world-building, adding characters, adding new pieces to the story, connecting the dots. I do hope that it will pay off at the end. I've been asked for a tag list and I took the liberty of adding some of you so please let me know if you want to be added or removed. I thank you all for your DMs, comments and reblogs. Even if I do not respond to all of them, I assure I read them all, and each brings a smile to my face. Enough of me bubbling, gotta start working on chapter six cos I kinda miss Bruce ;) For now, as always Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

~~***~~ Tag list: @clown-princesa @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @green-parx @batgirlspain

[avelera]

Ok just because I'd never write it because Human/No Powers Modern AU is not my thing, but I find the thought exercise interesting, here's a bit more about how Giving Sanctuary would work if it was a modern, no powers dreamling AU (copied from a Discord I'm on):

The THING IS, I am somewhat charmed by the idea of Modern AU Giving Sanctuary ONLY because re-translating the historical dynamics to be clearer to a modern viewer of like... what EXACTLY Dream disdained about Hob, would be such a treat??

Like in a historical setting, you can tell Hob's being a bit gauche in 1589 but that's kind of it for visual cues? But just.... imagine Dream in his black turtleneck and designer coat, hosting an event at his art gallery, and then this fucking Chad that his sister made him set up with a job interview ages ago, that he expected to fail out because he's a jock and an idiot, shows up in a fucking golf polo and a fancy but extremely visible Rolex he won't stop showing off to Dream and like... just the worst kind of new money sleaze oozing out of every pore and he won't stop snacking on the hors d'oeuvres and trying to offer some to Dream while talking with his mouth full because he thinks they're buddies, somehow and he keeps talking about the latest deal he closed to bring in millions to his company yeah they're gonna put him on Fortune magazine, not the front cover, but there is a page about him!

And this guy Hob, he keeps trying to shove pictures of his supermodel wife and sticky infant son at Dream at this arts event and finally Dream will literally do anything to get away from this guy and talk to the art school student who is actually talking about looking for his big break (And little does he know, Hob actually was trying to thank Dream for putting him in a place to be this successful because Hob came from poverty and there was no way he'd ever have reached this point without that lucky break of meeting Dream and yeah, he lacks manners but he's stupidly proud of what he accomplished and has no idea what he did wrong, he was trying to compliment Dream on the hors d'oeuvres??)

And if you make this purely human AU (not a genre I like to write but I find the thought exercise of updating a story interesting) 1689 would be caused by like.... Hob in a car accident with his pregnant wife and his kid Robyn, Hob's the only survivor. He gets addicted to pain meds during the recovery, is found at fault for the accident so no insurance money/the legal bills eat up everything else, he's fired, addicted, was already living lavishly and depending on the next big deal to pay for it all so goes bankrupt quickly, falls and falls and falls.

Anyway, Hob and Dream have this standing agreement to meet up once a year or every five years, at the same dive bar where Death introduced them in like college or something, and Hob gets there and y'know, updated 1689 meeting, he's a mess, he's homeless, he can't seem to get out of his own way, but the subject of his son's death comes up (again, for a GS update) and somehow Dream mentions he got married when he was like 18 or 20 to another artist, they had a son, no one in their families supported them because they said they were too young, their son died and his wife left him and his life fell apart and he's buried himself in work since but never really healed and no one ever really seemed to understand what he went through because most of his peers had never even had a serious relationship by the time he was divorced and had lost a child at like 22, like people freaking complimented him on being a single man again if they didn't know about the death.

And for the first time ever he tells this to Hob and instead of saying "Why did you get married so young??" Hob just... asks him if he's ok. Over a decade later. The first person to actually understand that Dream never really recovered.

[killingbill]

HELP ME KEEP MY FIANCÉ AFLOAT AFTER HER STROKE! (please signal boost if you can)

paypal link: paypal.me/thamorgue kofi: https://ko-fi.com/thamorgue

Hi, my name is Morgan. I'm a lesbian, 26. My fiancé (she/her, 30) is the strongest person I've ever met. She's a chemist, who worked for a pharmaceutical company. She achieved her dreams, and was supporting me in doing the same for myself. We thought we were just about to get out of our hard-times, and unfortunately, life had other plans for us.

My fiancé suffered a stroke on April 29th, 2024. The stroke impacted the language centre of her brain, and it was a large area of the brain that was impacted. She will be able to work again someday, but her physical and mental deficits are going to require a lot of therapy to correct. Her recovery is projected to be 6 months - 2 years.

She was the main breadwinner in our household and worked so hard to get herself out on her own, and start our life together. She was kind enough to give me leeway to do what I've always wanted to do, and begin freelance work. She's so independent and this is the last thing she ever would have wanted. However, I know that she will have the ability to make it through to the other side.

In the meantime, however, it is not fair that just because she is now disabled - she will seemingly be at risk of losing her apartment, and other such services such as electric or gas, when this event was entirely out of her control. I have vowed to do my best to help, but I do not have regular income (other than a recent approval for welfare) and her immediate family is already stretched thin. We have contacted multiple stroke organizations and have been turned away, and cannot bank on any sort of government assistance for her at this time. Most organizations offer coverage for her therapy or hospital bills, however her insurance already covers this - thank god - but we are left at a loss.

Please, if you're able, please consider helping. She is the kind who would never ask for help, and neither am I. This is the first time I've ever considered crowd funding. However, I would be remiss not to try and help the love of my life not to lose her livelihood for something out of her control. Your money will go towards things like (her) rent, car insurance, electric, gas bills. (no subscription services or other frivolous things). Anything extra will go towards prescriptions, if applicable.

please let me know if I can provide any writing services for your donation/money, as well! my fiverr link is in my pinned. I can also make GIFS/GIFSETS for you, for tips.

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday! Ways to Give: Anon linked to a fundraiser for a family member who has developed increasingly severe allergies; her insurance won't cover a food allergy test to figure out what's causing the sudden reactions, so they're fundraising to cover the cost. You can read more and support the fundraiser here. audkitty's close friend just found out he has a tumor at the base of his skull; he needs to have it removed ASAP, but health insurance won't cover the full procedure, and he needs to raise about $8.2K to cover bills. You can read more and support the fundraiser here. mamajosrefuge is finally funding their top surgery, and needs help with funds; you can read more and support the fundraiser here. kirkfanatic linked to a fundraiser for a good friend's husband, who is funding his top surgery after getting a job that will allow him recovery time; you can read more and support the fundraiser here. Anon linked to a fundraiser for maximumsunshine, who will be returning to work in August after life-saving surgery but is behind on rent, bills, and food until their first paycheck comes in at the end of next month. You can read more and reblog here, or support them via patreon or via paypal. Anon linked to a fundraiser for thebisexualmandalorian, a trans person raising funds to move themself and their cat away from abusive family members and out of a state that is becoming increasingly hostile and dangerous for trans people. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here. theleakypen linked to a fundraiser for friends Kayti and Eli, who have been living precariously since leaving an abusive housing situation; they now have some stability with a new roommate and chosen family member, but still need help with household expenses and car maintenance, especially since the household has multiple disabilities. You can read more and support the fundraiser here. songspinner9's kid Wren, age 23, had their e-bike stolen this week; Wren's disabilities mean they can't safely drive, and have limited energy, so the bike was a necessary mobility aid and tool for independence, particularly in commuting to their work at a local youth center. They are raising funds for a refurbished replacement that meets their needs; you can read more and support the fundraiser here. Anon linked to a fundraiser for rosietwiggs, whose family was hit hard by COVID and is dealing with an ongoing lawsuit against insurance; she's fundraising for school supplies and also summer activity stuff for her kids, who are all at home during the summer. You can read more and reblog here or give via ko-fi here. Buy Stuff, Help Out: queerdo-mcjewface is selling corsets that no longer fit on eBay; 100% of proceeds benefit the National Lawyers' Guild (which provides legal aid to activists) and the Entertainment Community Fund (which helps striking show business workers). The auctions are for 24" and 26" corsets and run through Sunday, July 30th. You can see and purchase them here. Recurring Needs: Anon linked to a fundraiser for littlefluffbutt, who is facing homelessness with two daughters due to a predatory loan and support falling through; you can read more and reblog here or support the fundraiser here. And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[elvenbeard]

My adventures in blorbo-modding continue and I finally was able to give Vince his custom top surgery scars how I saw them in my head and how I've drawn them on him so far ;___; They're subtle on purpose, but still visible, with some little imperfections here and there and hhhhhhhhh I'm really looking forward to future VP with his chest visible now ;A; These are literally just some quick pics I took in excitement about getting the look and placement right xDD I might tweak some details in the future, especially when I make him an NPV somehwere down the line but YES! One more thing learned that's gonna be so useful, and one step closer to having him look how he's supposed to :3

A little background lore: he got his top surgery done in 2073, working at Arasaka already at the time. The costs were pretty much covered by his Trauma Team insurance, which had actually been one of the reasons why he originally took the job - not the main reason, but definitely a contributing factor. At the semi-legal car workshop he worked at before it would've taken him years still to be able to afford this. And he wouldn't have been able to get the modern, fancy procedure done he could with the Arasaka paychecks.

It would've resulted in an even more even, less visible result, had he rested his ass a little bit longer during recovery. But still being new, just out of basic training, freshly appointed to Counterintel, he was worried Jenkins or Jenkins' superiors would use his medical leave as an excuse to get him kicked out before he even got in properly... So in some places the sutures didn't heal as well as they could've with more rest, and everything is still somewhat visible 4+ years later. But the result is still so much nicer than anything he could've hoped for before his corpo job.

Also, big shoutout to @pinkyjulien for very patiently walking me through making my own mesh for these, sth I hadn't done before, that made all of this such an easy process in the end :D

[marvelingjules]

Update on my mom:

She’s out of ICU and moved to a hospital under her insurance and that apparently specializes in the level of care she needs. She’s aware and talking and very happy with this new hospital.

Today she got the hard casts for her ankle and her wrist. She has a boot on her other ankle. They can’t know much more on her hip fracture until she can put weight on it. They’re closing up her abdomen incision fully today. She is finally cleaned up of blood patches, she’s super bruised all over, her broken ribs should be able to heal on their own.

She had a lot of hallucinations/false memories from her initial week in the ICU. Things she swears happens but didn’t.

She thought for a while I was in the car with her and had died, so she didn’t ask about me for a while cause she didn’t want to face it. But obviously I am fine and she knows now.

Everyone keeps saying how well she’s doing, almost surprisingly well. She said she was told it would be at least six months before she’d be able to “go back” to work, maybe.

So. Still a long road to recovery but she’s doing really, really well.

[apricotbuncakes]

"How does donating to your GoFundMe support your Top Surgery?"

I'm glad you asked about this -> gofundme and how it works!

But first: if you can't afford to donate, REBLOG THIS TO HELP IT REACH MORE PEOPLE. You can also repost it to other sites or share directly with those you know can help! This helps a lot because I'm unable to constantly reblog and share it, limiting my reach to external communities.

GoFundMe, in it's most basic explanation, is a collection service that tracks how much money a certain fund has been donated to and holds onto it for the individual/group/organization until they withdrawl (or 'cash out') the money.

GoFundMe takes a portion of what is donated to keep their own business running, but most of it still goes to the person you intended to donate to! This is also why surpassing a goal when on a crowdfunding service is extremely important. If I got exactly 10,000 in donations, I wouldn't have actually made all of that money because of the portion that is taken out.

That said, it is still incredibly helpful! Of the money that I can receive from the donations, I can put that towards so many different things!!

Due to legislation and otherwise hostile environments being created for trans people across the United States (in what is rightfully being called a genocide, but I digress) I'm choosing to go the 'out of pocket' route for top surgery, meaning I'm not relying on my insurance for the procedure. Insurance can take significantly longer, and they have a limited number of people in network (aka people who accept my insurance for payment) that can perform this. It can also limit 'cosmetic' aspects, even if those things are considered standard practice, like nipple crafts.

Basically, by paying 'out of pocket' I'm allowing myself a shorter wait time because im not having to fight with insurance, or sacrificing quality over coverage.

Is crowdfunding my only option to cover this? No! I'm saving up what I can, but I work an hourly-wage job that is considered under livable wage even though it's above the minimum. I'm scheduled to work 116 hours at a part time job for college students, just in the month of March. Because I'm disabled in several aspects, this is taking a significant toll on my physical well being. I am in a better position than other people because I'm living with one of my partner's family who provides transportation, rent (housing), electric, and water utilities, and in trade I help with food through Food Assistance, a portion of the car payment, and my portion of the phone bill. I'm also paying back the minimum monthly cost for my student loans (though I'm working to get that paused for the time being). But I'm still not making $1,000 a month after taxes and bills, which means that without spending extra money, I'm only saving a few hundred a month on my own for this goal.

All of that means that I'll need to look into financing options, what are essentially loans for medical procedures. That's where the crowdfunding comes in. While I am able to make monthly payments to cover this, depending on the plan, interest can start up in under a year. With a $10,000 surgery (that price includes the estimated costs for doctor visits, tests/scans, the procedure itself, aftercare supplies, money set aside for bills while I can't work during recovery, etc) waiting to pay all of that after the interest has started adding could take literal years, and I'd be pouring more money than I can afford into it. By crowdfunding however, I would be able to get the surgery and prior/post supplies and expenses paid for, and then pay for most (if not all) of the finances/loans I took out for it after.

Basically, in my circumstances, the crowdfunding is being raised to help me pay the loans I need for this procedure off, amongst other expenses related to the surgery.

"But why do you NEED top surgery?"

Without getting into the statistics, or even legislative parts of it (and what may try to stop me from getting it by proxy), I'll stick to the facts of my individual situation.

My breasts are a literal pain in my back, and with Fibromyalgia (a disability that causes chronic pain, even when 'nothing' is wrong, a poor explanation but one that is satisfactory for this discussion) it just makes it that much worse. My breasts are rather large and are causing me a great deal of struggle to even breath properly because of their weight.

Even if that wasn't the case though, they cause me significant gender dysphoria, meaning my body is distressing me because it doesn't match my perceived sense of self as a man (or masc) person. Socially, emotionally, and mentally, they limit my transition and health, so removing them is in my best interest (my therapist even agrees). Getting this surgery done ASAP is a priority for me because of this, as well as the aforementioned growing hostility for trans people, and Anti-Trans legislation that feeds into that.

"What else are you doing to raise money?"

I understand that some people are cautious to donate money to someone who may not bring doing tbeir on effort to save money themselves.

As I said before, I'm saving what I can with my disposable income (or money that does not go directly to bills and expenses). I'm not spending on frivolous things (for me, that's eating out, new clothes, trinkets, subscription services or otherwise unneeded items). Unneeded items do not include pet supplies, medication expenses, NEEDED clothing (like weather appropriate clothes for the season), hygiene products like deodorant and soap, and other items that are not bills but are still needed.

But I'm also going to start applying for grant/scholarship money for trans people, or money I don't have to pay back. This money (should I qualify AND receive it) will go directly towards my surgery expenses so I don't have to pay as much money back on loans.

There is a chance I won't receive any of them that I apply for, which is why my gofundme goal is the total cost still, so I'm not low balling myself and having to raise the goal later.

If you really want to, I'm also opening commissions (three slots total). Because I'm packing myself to the brim with my main job, I won't be able to complete them as quickly, though I will work on them as frequently as possible. Commissions have the benefit of the money going DIRECTLY to me, so gofundme doesn't get a cut of it.

Have any other questions? My ask box and DMs are open!!