Belle can not walk due to being paralyzed from the waist down after a bad accident
She needs oxygen to breath
She is wheelchair bound
She needs a special diet
She is fully incontinent and needs to wear diapers 24/7
She has a feeding tube
She has trouble speaking sometimes
She suffers from chronic pain
She has a very weak immune system
She sometimes acts like a child due to severe brain damage, she also regresses to help deal with her childhood and adult trauma when Belle regresses she is in her safe place where she can't be hurt and be in her own little world.
Mental health:
Belle is bipolar
She suffers from depression
She has severe anxiety
She has anger issues
Very bad traumatic past.
Other information:
Belle suffers from a lot of health problems and is disabled from the waist down due to a horrible accident that happened not long after the first curse broke. She had a really hard childhood due to her father becoming abusive after her mother died. On top of that she has been locked up quite a few times and tortured.
Because of this and due to her severe brain damage from the horrible accident she was in, Belle sometimes regresses into a mind set of a child or even younger, it's something she isn't able to help and doesn't really know when it happens. Due to all the health problems she has, one being chronic, Belle relies on her husband, family and friends for everything. In many ways she's like a little girl who needs tending to but that doesn't stop her from being a fiery bookworm. even though Belle is sick and disabled she tries to live her life to the best of her ability with her family and friends.
This is a AU OUAT RP/Ask Blog that deals with mental health, physical health physical disabilities and age regression. if this is not something you are comfortable with then you don't have to stick around. I have my own personal reasons why I muse her this way. So please no hate or discrimination here.
Every night, for more years than you can know, the last thing I see before I sleep is the image of you– me and you, over that pit. Your hand, wrapped around mine. And then you open your grip. And as I fall away, all I can see is your face. Choosing all this crap over me. Letting me go. Now it’s my turn.
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On the morning of the second curse, Jefferson woke feeling like he’d been sleeping on a cloud. A very clean and crisp cloud, if that were possible. He eyed his plush mattress covered generously with the Vera Wang sheets and comforter. It was the same damn bed he’d had for the past twenty eight years and never felt it was anything too remarkable. Why now did he feel like it was the first time in a long time he’d slept there. Weird. He didn’t recall actually going to bed the night before either.
He dismissed the bothersome thoughts of being displaced as unimportant. The light snow falling outside caught his eye and Jefferson paused, staring out the window. Wasn’t it late-May? A late snow then? Not too odd for Maine, after all.
Turning from the window, his thoughts busy on what to make Grace for breakfast, he left the room barefoot. Rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye, his hand reached for Grace’s doorknob. A memory struck then and he froze.
Pan’s curse. And then Regina’s counter curse. Purple smoke enveloping the entire town as they all stood in the street, completely helpless as Emma, the ‘savior’ drove away in her yellow Bug. Grace’s face turned toward Jefferson’s chest as he hugged her tight as if he could possibly protect her.
Shouldn’t they have woken in the Enchanted Forest. Jefferson looked around himself. Yes, he was home in the mansion. Odd. But that was a hell of a relief, wasn’t it?
Gripping the doorknob, he turned it to find the room dark, but enough light filtered in through the gap in the heavy curtain. What he saw wasn’t correct. He rubbed the other eye. Surely his eyes hadn’t adjusted from sleep yet. “Grace?” His voice echoed in the empty room.
Blinking a few times did nothing to dispel the disbelief. Surely, another blink or three would produce the visage he expected. Grace, in her room. But he didn’t actually recall putting her to bed the previous night. Hell, he couldn’t remember the night at all--just the curse approaching. “GRACE!” he shouted, turning and sprinting down the hall to the next room.
Bang! The door slammed against the wall. Empty. The next room was the studio. The chilling atmosphere of cool lighting shone on shelves of tophats, but his eyes glazed over them. Grace wasn’t in there either. Where was her bed? Her furniture? Her stuffed bunny!
Gone. Again. Regina had cursed the town again! Of course, they’d all fallen for her gesture to save them all. He laughed bitterly, shaking his head, closing his eyes as he stepped backwards until his heels hit the wainscoting. Slowly, he slid down to the floor.
But the sound of a light tinkling against the window reminded him of the icy snow falling.
His eyes snapped open and he jumped up to look out the window. The trees were bare of any leaves. That was unusual. They should all have the beginning buds of leaves growing in the Spring even if a late snow occurred. What the hell was going on? It was as if he’d lost a huge gap in time!
Concluding that Regina’s curse had not only wiped out his memory of the entire summer and potentially the fall, he also didn’t know where Grace was. Their home showed no evidence that his daughter had been back for the past few months. Shouldn’t he remember? He always knew. Always remembered. That was his curse. No. His curse was losing Grace, because he was certain that somehow it had happened again.
--
The streets in town were busy with cars and people. It must be a weekend, he concluded. Kids weren’t in school, many adults weren’t working. The people were preparing for something. Maybe Miner’s Day was approaching. Was it actually that late in the year already? How many months had he lost? Not just he, but everyone.
The chill in the air blew a swirl of dried leaves and snowflakes across the street just as Jefferson was beginning to cross. The cold shooting down his coat belatedly reminded him that he’d also forgotten to put a scarf on before leaving. Too distracted by the realization that the world was crashing down around him yet again, he’d been too much in a hurry to get into town. He lifted the collar of the coat he wore to shield his neck, hunched his shoulders and jogged across the street.
Many school-aged kids were milling in and out of the patisserie and down the street, the same was happening at Any Given Sundae. A streak of nerves shot through Jefferson as he began to approach the door to the pastry shop and he froze on the sidewalk. Doubts filled him. If it was another curse, what if Grace had forgotten him again? No...
“Watch out!” Someone shouted directly behind him. A skateboarder shot past with a glare at him.
“Idiot,” Jefferson mumbled, but his nervous stupor had been broken. He turned to look at the shop again. Grace wasn’t there, but a number of girls her age did file out, each with a wax paper sleeve holding their treats as they happily chatted.
“I want to sign up for dance!” One of the girls gushed to her friend. Several agreements were spoken and Jefferson followed their line of sight to the dance studio nearby. Funny, he’d never noticed that business, but why should he? Grace had never brought up dance before.
“Ballet!” Another girl said dreamily. “Can you imagine being able to dance like that?” She lifted her arms, wax paper and pastry in tow, and made a pirouette very ungracefully. Powdered sugar from the sleeve drifted down onto the girl’s brown hair much like the snow that had fallen earlier.
A riotous uproar of laughter from her companions ensued. Jefferson turned his attention toward the ice cream shop. Maybe Grace was there. Walking in that direction, a fluttering on the next building’s window caught his attention and he stopped again. It was the dance studio as evidenced by the number of leotard-wearing toddlers inside mimicking roly polies.
Stepping up to the glass, Jefferson stuck out a finger to tame the flapping notice and read:
Scholarships for extracurricular activities need funding! Support a child for a brighter tomorrow!
Jefferson snorted. “As if anyone in this town can expect a brighter tomorrow,” he grumbled, but kept reading.
Give your child ballet lessons this holiday season!
His eyebrows rose as he looked up in thought. Grace had mentioned how she wanted to stay here in Storybrooke. To live a life like a normal family--or as normal as a family of two could be under the circumstances. Normal parents send their children to learn ballet and play sports. Was Grace into those things like the girls outside the pastry shop?
One way to find out. He ripped the little tag bearing the phone number of the dance studio and shoved it into his coat pocket and continued his search for Grace.
Hours later, defeated, Jefferson slumped down on a park bench. No one was remarking on the Dark Curse, people were still wary of Regina as Madam Mayor--Jefferson rolled his eyes--and once he had finally spotted Grace and raised a hand to wave in her direction, her eyes had passed right by him and to the people that had been raising her for the past twenty eight years. Minus the months of bliss when he’d had her back, of course.
He rolled his head on his neck feeling the stiffness of stress that had begun creeping over him. The wind was picking up. It was going to be a cold damn evening. But his fingers brushed along a scrap of paper in his pocket. The dance lessons!
Fishing out his cell phone, Jefferson wasted no time and punched the number into his phone. He’d just have to make sure his little girl had a guardian angel looking out for her! She would have an anonymous gift made in her name. That at the very least could push the chill away for a short while. The phone rang in his ear as he waited.
A month passed and on this day, just like every weekday before, Jefferson paused on the sidewalk to peer into the dance studio window. The ballerinas in training moved in sync with the motions of their teacher. One specifically caught his notice. His daughter was living up to her name. She was the most graceful on the dance floor, of course, in his eyes. A smile threatened to tip his lips upward as he watched, his coffee in hand long forgotten.
