#ill start going out again when my group therapy starts up again

[junkie-virus]

(muttering) i dont want to die i just need to go outside i dont want to die i just need to go outside i dont want to die i just need to go outside i dont want to die i just need to go outsi

[vee-beeee]

Plant Shopping

HELLO

So I’ve essentially been dead and i apologize, lotta life stuff happening so that’s fun.

This isn’t a Connor x reader fic ;-; but ill get one out soon, but i wanted to try experimenting with another character and I’ve been playing omori recently so here this is

Basically: Set in a universe where Mari went to the hospital for a bit but was okay, and everyone’s doing good. You and Basil see that’s its a nice summer day outside, and decide to go plant shopping :)

A classic Basil x reader fic, both characters are 18 (reader has she/her pronouns)

Only other relationship mentioned is Mari x hero

This might be slightly out of character, as it’s my first time writing for these guys. This is also an au where Mari didn’t die so they main group is happier, and they got therapy 👍

Triggers: Panic attacks, but mostly happy and a comfort fic because these guys deserve it fr fr

——————————————————————————————<3

It’s always a weird feeling when you wake up and the sun is drifting into your eyes. It’s like your lids are glowing with the sun itself, catching on your lashes.

Your dreamy haze is startle when you try to gently shift in bed, realizing to late how close you are to the edge.

And you then fall off the side in a mess of blankets.

A body shoots up on top of the bed, a mess of blonde hair and a slender frame all you can see from your spot on the floor. It turns around the room to survey the surroundings, before mumbling something and falling back onto the bed.

“Basiiiillllll” you call out, sleep laced in your voice as you claw to get out of the sheets.

“Whatttttt” he mumbles back, shifting in bed to roll over to look at you.

Before realizing you weren’t there.

“Oh honey!” He instantly wakes up, crawling over the bed to look at you, before leaning down to help undo the blankets. “How did you do this?” He asks when you’re finally free, looking over your body to check for any bruises.

“Maybe you shoved me close to the edge in your sleep again” You laugh, standing up and stretching. You reach your arms above your head and hear your bones creaking, causing you to sigh in relaxation. When your finished you swing your arms down and look at Basil, you was laying on the bed, looking at you with the most gentle, loving gaze you had ever seen. He was also laying upside down, the goober.

“What” you laugh, adjusting your sleep shorts as you walk over to the closet and start rooting through clothes.

“Nothing” he replies, “Just that you look like a flower, blooming in the sun” he chuckles, rolling off the bed to walk and hug you from behind.

Over the years, Basil had hit a growth spurt and went from the shortest to the third tallest. Kel had him beat, next to hero. Sunny was a “short king” as your group called him, but he was still almost as tall as Basil. His blond hair was cut almost the same, done up with some sparkly pins in a low pony, a product of your self care night you had. (You both put on face masks and needed his hair out of his face)

You guys gently swayed in his room for a minute, being careful of the plants that littered his room.

You gently turned your head to kiss his forehead, which had been resting on your shoulder “We should do something today” you whispered, stopping your swaying. When he didn’t answer, you turned to look at him more in question.

And then he started fake snoring.

It was so loud and obnoxious that you couldn’t help but laugh, especially when it turned into the “me me me” snore. Basil broke and started laughing to, and you both chuckled to your hearts content in your happy little bubble.

After that you both got dressed, you in a flowery summer dress and him in some shorts and white tee that said “flower power” showcasing a variety of different flower types on it.

You were currently making eggs and toast with some blueberry jam that you guys made together. That was a fun, albeit messy experiment.

Basil was leaning on the counter next to you, telling you about the others in your groups plan for that day.

“Mari and Hero are driving out to the city, Aubrey is going out with some friends, and Sunny and Kel are meeting up so Kel can try to teach him basketball.” Basil chuckled at the thought of poor sunny getting hit in the face with a ball.

“So we have the day to ourselves?” You questioned, looking outside the window to the beautiful sun shining down on the house. Polly was out doing errands, and Basils grandmother was sleeping in her room.

It really was just the two of you.

“Yep, the whole sunny day” he smiled at you, before jumping and letting out an “oh!” You looked at him with a questioning gaze, and he smiled shakily before running to his room. He came back shortly with a scrap piece of paper and he looked at you in excitement.

“Do you wanna go plant shopping with me?” He smiled so bright you had to squint to see him. You laughed and nodded your head.

“Of course i will! What planets do you need?” This caused Basils brilliant smile to falter, and he chuckled and scratched the back of his head, guilty look plastered on his face

“A lot”

You smirked and held your hand out, and he gently gave you his scrap piece of paper he was holding.

You nodded a thank you and looked down, and saw that the entire sheet of paper was filled out.

Your mouth dropped open as you read all the different kind of plants, a lot of which you couldn’t recognize.

“That’s my list, these ones do well in the summer” He pointed out on the list shyly, before laughing and shaking his head.

“We need to get started then” you winked, and Basil was once again beaming.

After you both got ready, eating and saying goodbye to basils grandmother, you were off to the green house outside of town.

You stood in the driveway, looking at your guys bikes leaned up on the house. You turned to look at basil with a scrunched up look and he bit his lip. You both knew one thing.

You were not gonna fit all the plants in a flimsy bike basket.

Your next option was to call Kel.

Basil and Kel talked on the phone while you undid the locks on your bikes, rolling them over to where your boyfriend was standing.

“….thank you Kel, i promise ill pay for gas” Basil nodded as Kel talked in his ear, and the blonde turned to you to give a thumbs up. You smiled as the plan was set in motion.

Basically the plan was this:

Kel had saved up months ago and bought a truck, while you and basil had chosen to stick with bikes, being the healthier option for you too. But at times like this, extra help was needed.

So you guys were going to bike to park, where Kel and sunny were, and borrow/ steal kels truck, while he and sunny took your bikes home when they were ready.

Perfect plan.

You and basil started to the park, enjoying the warm summer morning. Basil, like basil does, took his camera. He was fussing over it all the way to the park, making sure the strap was tight around his chest. You chuckled as he shakily tried adjusting, before yelping when he realized he was heading into the bushes.

You got to the park (mostly) unharmed. Basil did have a couple scratches, but you were always prepared and brought band-aids for accidents.

(And you were always willing to kiss it better)

When you got to the park, you both beelined for the court. Before you could even see it, you could hear Kel.

He was screaming his head off and whistling.

You and Basil slowly looked at each other, before bursting into laughter. You guys continued walking to the court while giggling, and saw quite the sight.

Kel was guarding sunny, and yelling into his ear. Sunny looked frustrated, but was clearly concentrating hard. You and basil smiled as you watched Kel suddenly make a grab for the ball, causing sunny to turn and shoot for the basket.

The ball flew right over the net, over the board, and before you could register, the ball flying righttt over your head.

You stood there in shock as the ball thudded into a tree, and you blinked as a very worried Basil came into your vision.

“Sweet Pea! Are you okay?” He checked you up and down, giggling gone. Kel was running over, yelling about that almost being the perfect hit, and sunny was walking over, rubbing his arm and looking at you with a guilty look.

The black haired boy tilted his head in apology, and one you recovered from your stunned state, you looked at him and gave him a shaky smile and thumbs up. That was a close one.

“Hey you guys! Sorry about that, he’s still learning distance of shooting the ball” Kel had retrieved the ball from the bushes, and was jogging back to your small circle. When he arrived, he slapped a hand on basils shoulder, sending the blonde forward a few steps. Basil just awkwardly chuckled, never fully getting used to be touched by surprise.

“So I hear you guys want to steal ol’ hector?” Kel laughed, spinning the ball on his finger.

“I’ll pay for gas don’t worry” Basil assured the boy, biting his lip once again, a nervous habit he had picked up when he was a kid.

“Im not to worried about it” Kel shrugged, tossing the ball hand to hand “Just don’t crash it” the boy laughed, punching basil on the arm. Basil chuckled and nodded, giving him a ‘yes sir’ before Kel suddenly threw him the keys. Basil struggled to catch it, the small jumble of metal bouncing from hand to hand before he caught it against his chest. Kel laughed at the antics, and finally gave you once last nod.

“Make sure he doesn’t get lost in there okay y/n?” The boy winked again and patted Sunny’s back, who gave you both a wave while they jogged back to the court. You giggled while Basil sputtered and went red, making an exaggerated frowny face, making you laugh harder.

After dropping the bikes in the lawn, where sunny and Kel could keep an eye on them, you both saw Kel truck parked on the street.

Basil carefully held your hand as you walked across the park to it. You swung your hands back and forth, your both starting to hum a Taylor swift song and laughing.

When you reached the car, Basil unlocked it, and ran around to your side to open the door for you, doing a little bow.

“For you my rose” He blushed and smiled, making you laugh and curtesy to him, thanking the boy before climbing into the tall car. He ran around and pulled open his door, sliding into the driver seat and familiarizing himself with the cars controls. The car was stick shift, and luckily Polly had taught Basil in his Grandmas old car, which also was a stick shift. So you were set.

Basil turned the key and the car roared to life, sputtering with its loud engine. Basil jumped and turned to you with his eyebrows raised, and you laughed at his expression.

Pulling out into the road, you changed the music into some classic road-trip goodies, and you were both off to drive to the plant store outside the town.

Basil was a pretty good driver, albeit a little anxious. After Maris tumble down the stairs that landed her with a broken leg in the hospital, Basils anxiety went through the roof. With a little encouragement from you and Polly, he saw a doctor and got some medication. Now, he was doing much better, but sometimes glimpses of the monster called anxiety crept through. He would get a little nervous when a truck was going to fast, if someone was honking, or if someone even passed him.

But he had you to calm him down. To cheer the blonde up when he got to stressed, you would jokingly yell “PERVERT” at people who were being a little to aggressive on the road, making basil laugh.

The current song was one of your favorites, “She Lit a Fire” by Lord Huron. You both were humming along on the peaceful trip.

About 30 minutes of singing and talking about nothing and everything, Basil smiled and informed you that you were close. He pulled into a dirt driveway and yelped as the road got a little bumpy. You giggled in joy, feeling like you were on a roller costar. Finally, Basil pulled into a clearing, where the road became pavement again.

And then you saw it.

A couple of huge greenhouses, people flocking around them. There were plants everywhere, and it smelt like heaven with all the flowers blooming, and some sprouting.

Basil pulled into a free spot, turning the noisy truck off. You put your hand on the door, ready to exit the truck, when you heard heavy breathing coming from the driver side of the car. You turned to Basil, about to ask him what that noise was, but saw the boy looking out the rear view mirror to a bunch of people.

You understood.

Basil never did good with crowds, and the blonde turned and looked to you in alarm.

“Touch or no touch?” You asked gently, always making sure he was comfortable with it before touching him. He nodded, so you reached out and grabbed his hand, gently rubbing it.

Basils breathing was getting more labored, so you started breathing with him.

“In and out flower” you repeated that mantra, rubbing the back of Basils hand until you noticed his breathing starting to go back to normal. You both took a couple seconds to regroup, before basil quietly leaned over the car and wrapped you in a hug. You breathed out a sigh into his chest, kissing it once before leaning into the hug.

You guys stayed like that for at least 5 minutes, before basil pulled away.

“Sorry ‘bout all that sweet pea” He gave you a shaky smile and you gently gave him one back.

“It’s okay basil” you nodded “Take all the time you need.”

He closed his eyes and breathed, before jokingly giving you a thumbs up. “Im ready, I’ve got you by my side to help me” he stuttered out, making you blush and aww. He went red and quickly got out of the car, walking to the other side to open your door. You hopped out, dusting yourself off before turning and seeing basil close the door and lock the car with a beep.

“Talk about your plants with me” you spoke up, turning to basil and holding your hand out. He gave you a soft look before taking it, explaing all the different kinds of plants as you guys walked through the crowds.

You finally got to the entranced, and in Basils eyes, he was in heaven. The nursery was filled top to bottom with plants. Hanging baskets to little sprouts. It was so colorful in the building, and there was barely any room to walk around in. The ceiling was completely glass, so the sun shone through to bring light into the painting that was the nursery.

“Im gonna live here now.” Basil announced, laughing in awe. You chuckled to him and bumped into his side, causing the both of you to giggle.

Basil picked up a basket and you guys got to shopping.

Basil wanted to look at all the vegetables he wanted to grow, and you followed the boy to make sure he didn’t go ham spending his money. Basil started picking up plants and explaining which one was which, the ones that looked healthy, if they’d do well with the weather we’ve been having, and all sorts of facts about the plants.

You followed him with an adoring look, happy to see your boyfriend so happy after the little hiccup in the car. You figured out since you’ve been with him that even if you had a hard moment, it can always go up from there.

You eventually started to wander off yourself, getting lost in the leaves of the plants and trees and walking to a quiet corner.

There, you found her.

The most beautiful flower you had ever seen, an orange lily plant, sun beam shining down at the perfect angle to illustrate the softness of the petals, the color popping. You gasped and quickly walked over, picking up the flower and putting it up to your nose, smelling the aroma the plant was giving off.

You were lost in a haze, until you heard a tell-tale click. You blinked and looked up, seeing basil holding his camera down the corridor of hanging plants, and vines spilling over table tops. You smiled at him while he fanned the picture he took, holding it up to the light, and grinning.

“This is a good one” he turns to you and waves you over, showing you the photo when you get close enough to see it. You move the lily to your waist, and take a look at the Polaroid.

It’s you, smelling the lily, framed by leaves and vines. The sun is shining on your hair, bringing out the color and showing the blush on your face.

You giggle and look at basil, whose eyes are trained on your face. He smiles and kisses your check, hanging the camera down by his neck, and tucking the picture into his pocket. He pecks your nose and finally your lips, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You smile in the kiss, and put your free hand up on his cheek, squishing his face in the kiss, causing him to laugh and break away.

“You’re amazing my flower.” He bit his lip, blush finally creeping on his face as he closed his eyes and smiled. You blushed and slapped a hand on your face. You peeked your eyes through your hand and laughed a little.

“You are too, my delectable food garnish” Basil burst into laughter, and covered his mouth with his hands, shaking his head. He looked back up at you “Is that going to be my new nickname?” He asked, rolling his head to look up at the ceiling. You laughed and grabbed on of his free hands and rubbed it “Maybe” you just giggled.

After basil noticed you had a plant in your arms, he fawned over it, claiming it was “almost” as pretty as you.

That got you blushing.

As Basil continued around the nursery, he picked up more and more plants, until he had to get 2 carts. As he complained to you about the prices of maple tree saplings, you decided to name your lily “phoebe” .

Basil nodded his head and greeted phoebe by gently shaking one of her leaves like a hand. You and him burst into laughter, and you got some looks at the old folks peacefully shopping.

You and basil eventually got to the line, which went almost through the whole nursery. You were carrying all the pretty flowers, smelling each one.

Basil insisted on carrying the sprouts, because he wanted to make sure they did get to jostled. He was holding the whole basket at a specific angle, trying to make sure not one once of dirt spilled from their pots.

You and basil talked about the other plants you saw in line, and argued over who was going to pay for phoebe.

(Basil won)

As you were waiting, you got a text from Mari, asking how you were doing. She heard from Sunny that you guys had gone to the nursery, and you realized that you had been in there for at least a couple hours. You set down the basket and held your phone up, turning on the camera and pointing it to you and basil. You snapped the photo of you making a peace sign and silly face, while basil fussed over the flowers. You sent it to Mari, who sent laughing faces back and sent back a picture of her and hero, as they appeared to be at a coffe shop down town. Mari was making a thinking face, and hero, across the table, was making the smuggest face you’d ever seen.

You laughed and got basils attention, showing him the pictures. He blushed at the picture of him, and didn’t say anything but kiss your head.

You finally got to the checkout, basil talking to the kind old lady behind the counter. She commented on some of the sprouts, prompting basil to perk up and discuss flowers with her. When the lady was done typing in her computer, she announced the price and you blinked in alarm, looking at basil, who was surprisingly calm as he pulled out his wallet.

When everything was payed for, you grabbed a lollipop from the counters jar and picked up your share of flowers, sucker in your mouth as you walked out of the nursery, the afternoon heat washing over you.

Basil unlocked the truck, and you placed the planets in the backseat. You were about to climb into the car when basil grabbed your hand and squeezed it, causing you to look at him.

“I’ll be right back, I have to grab one thing.” He said and jogged away, leaving you confused.

You leaned on the truck and waited for a couple minutes, before you saw your boyfriend jogging back to the car,

With a full blown tree in his arms.

You gasped and ran to help him carry it, to which he thanked you. You both shoved it into the bed of the truck, basil putting a tarp down before hand to catch the dirt.

“Where did you acquire this?” You finally asked when basil started to secure the tree down so it wouldn’t fly out into the street.

“Well i payed for it, i wanted to surprise you” he awkwardly smiled, tugging on the ropes to make sure they were steady. You giggled and pat the leaves, trying to identify what tree it was.

“It’s a lemon tree” Basil announced after he saw you looking, and you gasped happily in surprise.

“I’ve always wanted a lemon tree!” You giggled, jumping into the car while Basil slid into the drivers side.

“I know, i thought maybe..” He mumbled the last part, at you smiled, looking at him in question. He looked at you and cleared his throat, sitting up straight

“I thought maybe we could plant it together, as a couple” he smiled and you gave him a happy look, quickly leaning over the dash to kiss his cheek. He went completely red and smiled, starting the car bringing your journey and outing to a close.

“Ill take that as a yes”

——————————-<3

I hope you liked this and it wasn’t to out of character! Im working on a Connor x reader rn, but if you like this and want more omori gang x reader hit me up! I think I’ll write a Kel one soon, also set in a universe where Mari is a-okay.

Thanks for reading!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hello helloo! i just read through your modern au and I'm in love (shocker), i wanted to ask if you'd give some more info on poppy? apologies if there's already a dedicated post to her, looking is not my specialty

there is not! i will gladly ramble!

~

in this au, Poppy is slightly less fearful than canon. this is for several reasons! 1) years of therapy. 2) anxiety meds. 3) teenage years of her friends dragging her out for Shenanigans & hyping her tf up! but she's still a worrywart! she's very cautious! she can and Will see the bad/dengerous side to every situation. but! now she has the tools to not only cope with but combat her intrusive thoughts & fears <3

i think i mentioned it before but she Did Not Realize she was trans until highschool! specifically, when she met Sally! Poppy had to stop by the theater department after school for some reason or another, and Sally noticed her looking longingly at the costume dresses (Poppy thought she was alone lol)

and while Poppy was mortified at being caught, Sally was delighted. they only knew each other in passing and from reputation but Sally started holding up dresses to Poppy and complimenting how well they suited her. (i could joke about how Sally could sniff out the lesbian in her before Poppy even knew she was a girl!) Poppy, flustered by the sudden attention and apparent acceptance, didn't know how to handle it and fled. then started avoiding Sally in the halls. but! eventually she had to go back for Insert Reason Here, and ofc Sally was there. this time around Sally is a little gentler and less assertive, but manages to coax Poppy into checking out the more ~feminine~ costumes again. thus begins their little meetings where Poppy tries on costumes and Sally is her biggest hypeman

it takes a while for things to Click in Poppy's mind! it isn't until she tries on a dress that Sally custom-made for her, wearing some makeup and a wig, that Poppy has her oh moment. unfortunately, some of their ~mutual friends~ (Wally, Barnaby, Howdy) walk in on them. there's a short, terrifying moment where Wally is all "who's your friend, Sally?" and Barnaby has to lean over to let him know "that's Poppy, bud". before Poppy can fully freak out, Wally immediately goes OH! and starts complimenting how pretty she looks. Barnaby chimes in next to ask if the dress is home-made bc it fits Poppy beautifully, Howdy nabs a necklace from the nearby gathered accessories and put it on her to "tie the outfit together". in short! Poppy finds nothing but support from her buddies & they're more than happy to help her figure out this new internal crisis / revelation

then of course eventually she's found out by her family, which goes very well (im using sarcasm! it goes terribly!). Poppy isn't outright disowned or kicked out or in immediate danger, but her relationship with her family is ruined by their transphobic bigotry. her friends have her back throughout this, and the guest room at the Beagle farm is always open to her! Sally continues to make custom clothes for Poppy (something that becomes a love language for the two of them <3).

honestly, this period in Poppy's life is part of what like... idk... strengthens her, in a way? her continuing to be herself and actively rebelling against her family, i mean. Poppy becomes a pretty stellar liar lol (lying to her parents about where she's going, who she's hanging out with, what she does after school, etc). she's very cautious about all of it, but she does it! she's determined to pursue and discover and Realize the woman inside her! i have this sweet scene in my mind of the Group at the Beagle farm chilling on the floor with notebooks, brainstorming on possible names. (Sally enthusiastically says a variation of 'exquisite' to each one, and then when Poppy says 'im not sure about that one' Sally - still enthusiastically - says a variation of 'horrible terrible how could you suggest such an ill-fitting name'). despite everyone's efforts, i like to think that Poppy finds her name entirely on accident! maybe during the Gap Year Road Trip! maybe they stop by a SoCal poppy reserve in superbloom and the flowers Resonate with her! who's to say!

but Poppy begins her (medical) transition in college! she, of course, gets shit for it, but she also begins to find community and enjoyment in the local queer community. and of course, she has her buddies <3

but anyway! i like to think that Poppy participates in local farmer's markets with her crochet work & baked goods, the latter of which is a complete hit! that, plus her first experience with going to a tearoom inspires her to strive towards owning her own! tearooms are right up her alley, i'd say - calm, quiet, and Poppy can make peoples' days a little brighter with a tranquil atmosphere & delicious treats! i swear i have a reason between 'Poppy british = she goes into tea business'. honestly! tearooms are more about the tiny sammies & tasty cones w/ cream! and feeling Fancy while chatting!

i think it takes a while for her to actually be able to start up a tearoom. I'd imagine she starts by holding a small, single-table reservation-based one in her own place once the Group decides on what town to move to. it's successful, slowly (but steadily) grows, until she can get an actual House and transform the ground floor into a full tearoom. lil shop by the checkout counter, several different rooms, a sizeable kitchen. staff! the tearoom is a humble one, but it's a killer holiday & tourist destination! the high ratings even bring in people from out of town!

and when it comes to Poppy & Sally, bc yall know i'm a sucker for Popstar - i like to think that they start dating after (mostly) all of them move into their new town. & after they both have been in prior relationships! and then they never stop dating. well, they do, but that's so that they can upgrade to Wife Status. and then they never stop being wives so there <3

but Poppy is successful and happy! she had a rough go of it but she Makes It! and she continues to make it!

[clown-cult]

Mon🅰️ & 🅰️rchie — an incoherent theory.

ALSO LOTS AND LOTS OF SPOILERS AND POSSIBLY SPELLING ERRORS. )

Alternatives titles include “How Archie took on the A moniker” OR “the one where Mona accidentally inspired a serial killer” OR “how Alex Drake is possibly even lamer than she already was and got The Game(tm) snatched out from under her” OR “these timelines are so messy as it is and I really suck at timelines so please god just bear with me as I stumble my way through trying to establish a fun little theory”.

So. As someone who’s seen both shows (although I saw the original a while ago), one of the biggest questions I have when watching Original Sin is “how did The Game(tm) go from various young women pulling strings behind the scenes and playing epic games of sabotage and blackmail while calling themselves ‘A’ go to a hulking scary mfer that runs around in a mask and kills terrible people?”.

This is my attempt, inspired by many late night overthinking sessions, at piecing together how the mantle of ‘A’ passed from one group of liars to another, from one town to another and who might have inspired the current ‘A’.

How did we get here? Will this make any sense? Let’s see, shall we?

So apparently the Original PLL takes place from 2010 to 2018. Again, all these timelines and articles I’ve read are a whole ass mess, but like me, they’re just working with what they’ve got. Thanks, Marlene.

First, a quick rundown of our main locations and players.

For locations, we’ll obviously be focusing on Rosewood and Millwood, which are a few hours apart and easy to go between in a few hours. The other most important location will obviously be the Radley Sanitarium.

For our main players, we will be focusing primarily on:

Mona Vanderwaal - the original A.

Dr Anne Sullivan - therapist at the Radley.

Sebastian Sullivan - only child of Dr Sullivan.

Archie Waters - the current A.

Angela Waters - twin sister to Archie. Took her own life at 16.

Rose Waters- mother to Angela and Archie Waters.

Okay. Here’s my attempt at constructing a timeline and assigning details where I can. Please note I got a lot of this from the wikis and used episode dates as dates of events unless dates in the episodes were given.

March 21st 1983, Angela and Archie are born. Rose is a teen mother who becomes heavily religious later in life, a disastrous combination with her untreated mental illness. Angela is subjected to verbal abuse and shaming and Archie, apparently having a face that “only a mother could love” is kept in an animal cage in a room.

The father of the twins is Marshall Clanton, who becomes a teacher and later principal at Millwood High, which Angela later attends.

Mona Vanderwaal is born on October 8th, 1993 in Rosewood where she grows up.

Angela Waters dies on 2000 1st at the age of 16, taking her own life after a year of being bullied and experiencing an assault which led to more bullying.

Her daughter’s death sends Rose Wanters into a breakdown and she goes to Millwood School with a knife, where she is stopped by Marshall Clanton.

Rose Waters is committed to the Radley in January-February 2000 and is treated by Dr Anne Sullivan. During this space of time, Dr Sullivan investigates the Waters house after her sessions with Rose make her wonder about Rose’s son. She finds Archie, who is also 16 at the time and has escaped his cage. Dr Sullivan is alarmed and calls the police, but Archie is nowhere to be found.

June 23rd, 2002, Sebastian Sullivan is born in Rosewood.

Alison Dilaurentis disappears on September 1st-2nd 2009, due to harassment from ‘A’, so therefore Mona has already taken on the moniker of ‘A’ in revenge for Alison bullying her. It is unknown for how long Alison had been bullying Mona to push her to this moment.

June 2011, the original liars (Aria Montgomery, Emily Fields, Hannah Marin and Spencer Hastings) start group therapy with Dr Sullivan to try to process their feelings around Alison’s disappearance and the trauma they’re suffering at the hands of A/Mona’s cyber harassment. Dr Sullivan realises she is being stalked shortly after sessions begin.

August 2011, Dr Sullivan is harassed further by ‘A’ and the original liars are led to believe she has been kidnapped and buried alive. They search but do not find her. Dr Sullivan is revealed to the audience have never having been buried at all, presumably after being blackmailed and threatened by ‘A’. She disappears for a while as a result.

Mona Vanederwaal is unmasked as A and committed to the Radley in 2012 where she is treated by Dr Sullivan, who also reveals that Mona blackmailed her and threatened her son, Sebastian. This was the cause of her disappearance.

Mona is discharged from the Radley in January 2013.

February 2013, Mona visits Dr Sullivan to thank her for her help in treating her. Mona is presumably no longer A but is still involved with and aware of “the game” at points throughout following seasons.

June 2015, Pam Fields makes an appointment for Emily Fields to see Dr Sullivan after her experiences in the dollhouse. Dr Sullivan is therefore still in Rosewood at this time.

The time jump in the OG series happens soon afterwards. This is where things really get dicey as what happens in this space of time is anyones guess. I’m just going to go with what we know for a fact aka what has been stated by other characters and we’ve seen after the time jump.

Post-time jump, Dr Sullivan is not seen again in the OG series so we can assume she moved to Millwood at this time with Sebastian.

The Radley also closes during the time jump and is converted into a hotel. The function of the building may have changed, but its dark history cannot be hidden and so going forward we will also be looking at evidence of an accessible paper trail. This will involve the Radley, the people it held for treatment, the people who worked there and how easy it would be for an outsider to find information.

The purpose of this is to show how easily someone could find out about the events of the original A incidents, what the liars went through and the various identities of A.

When the Radley is closed and turned into a hotel, Rose Waters is discharged and returns to Millwood. She is homeless but among her person belongings are her medical records from her treatment with Dr Sullivan.

October 14th, 2018. Sebastian Sullivan, while out on a jog in the forests of Millwood is killed presumably by Archie Waters. Sebastian’s body is found positioned over some three logs that have been assembled in the shape of an A. In the flashback, Archie is also already wearing his mask with the stitching in the shape of an A.

Depending on the timeline, in either July or October 2018, Alex Drake (secret twin to Spencer Hastings) is revealed to be “A.D”, the latest in a line of A’s who took on the mantle that Mona created, so it’s suitable that Mona is the one to mastermind her unmasking.

Later in October 2018, Mona kidnaps Alex and her mother Mary and takes them to the dollhouse.

Depending on when exactly Alex is revealed, given that Archie has already started targeting Dr Sullivan in the same year, it’s possible that The Game(tm) has already been taken from Alex by Archie and is about to twist into a new deadly form.

At some point between 2018 and the start of Original Sin in 2022, Marshall Clanton, now school principal, reunites with his son, Archie, and they set plans in motion to take revenge on the women who bullied Angela to her death by using their daughters.

In 2020 at another point, Mona returns to work at BHU with Alison DiLaurentis after it’s implied that Alex and Mary managed to escape her.

August 20th 2022, Davie Adams, one of the original bullies, receives a flier from the Y2K party where Angela Waters died. On the back of the flier is a threatening message with a single red A in one of the words. Davie takes her own life shortly afterwards and leaves an A in her blood on the bathroom wall. The red ‘A’ moniker is already being implemented on the poster.

September 28th 2022. The new liars (Imogen Adams, Tabitha Hayworthe, Farran Bryant, Noa Olivar and Minnie Honrada) all receive their first ‘A’ texts. This new form of The Game(tm) has now begun.

November 3rd 2022. Imogen Adams and Tabitha Hayworthe, investigating a lead on Rose Waters, drive to Rosewood and stay overnight at the Radley Hotel to meet with Eddie Lamb, a former orderly at the Radley, the next day.

November 4th 2022. Eddie Lamb shows Imogen and Tabby his old logbook of people who came for visitations, including the people who saw Rose Waters. This proves that even though the Radley is not an asylum anymore, there is a paper trail from when it was and the names of people who were patients and who visited. Eddie now works at the hotel, but he still has evidence of his time at the Radley and it’s previous history.

December 15th 2022, Archie’s identity as ‘A’ is revealed, along with Principal Clanton’s involvement and the fact that he is Archie and Angela’s father.

Principal Clanton is arrested the same night and Archie is hospitalised after being stabbed in self defence by Imogen.

He escapes shortly afterwards and goes on a rampage.

January 1st, 2023, Archie Waters is captured and sentenced to death for the Millwood Massacre.

June 11th, 2023. The new liars, now being stalked by a new killer calling herself Bloody Rose Waters, locate the real Rose Waters and are able to search her belongs enough to find that Dr Sullivan treated her at the Radley. This proves more of an accessible paper trail to Radley records.

June 12th 2023. Imogen and Tabby are able to break into Dr Sullivan’s office and steal their patient files. If two sixteen year old girls could break in and easily access this information, it’s safe to assume anyone could. As the girls flip through files, the names of the original liars are clearly seen. There is an identifiable paper trail dating years back to the events of the original show where Dr Sullivan was treating the original girls for their trauma and anxiety around what happened to Alison and the original ‘A’; Mona Vanderwaal. This information can also be accessed with relative ease.

Imogen says these don’t seem to be files from the Radley and could be from a private practice, but they would still likely contain information about the original A incidents with Mona.

June 18th 2023. Imogen confronts Dr Sullivan about whether or not she is Bloody Rose, demands proof, and to know why she is so eager to treat the new liars while not disclosing her connection to the Waters family. Dr Sullivan reveals she treated Rose, found Archie and believed that he followed and stalked her for years before killing her son. Her motive for trying to help the new liars is to try not to fail them, as she believes she failed to protect her son and that she believes Archie targeted her because she didn’t do enough to help him or his mother.

June 19th 2023. Dr Sullivan gives Imogen proof of her story by taking her to see Sebastian’s grave.

July 4th 2023. Dr Sullivan is ambushed and murdered in her office by Archie Waters, who has escaped jail, again wearing his ‘A’ mask.

Okay. That was the timeline I cobbled together with duct tape and tears. It’s the best I can do.

So, piecing together what we know of both shows, the fact that there is an ‘A’ in the original show doesn’t remain a secret for long. Several people take on the title and work for the A team.

There is a long list of material evidence on both the OG show and OS for people being in the Radley, along with who treated them, what was discussed and who it involved. Both shows are full of twists and turns involving investigating and blackmailing by various characters.

I point all this out to say that there’s a not insignificant chance that, if Archie Waters really was following and keeping an eye on Dr Sullivan over the years as she believed he was, and if he really did hold a grudge against her, Archie could have gained access to information her private life, her son, the people she treated and ‘A’.

Now, I’m about to point out some stuff while also doing a little speculating. Keep bearing with me here. We’re almost done.

It wouldn’t have been hard for Archie to find Dr Sullivan. She has frequent therapy sessions with his mother, after all. It wouldn’t have been hard to find her office as a result.

It wouldn’t have been hard to find out about A, given that Dr Sullivan still kept detailed files on the original liars even years later. Given that A was a large factor in their lives, it wouldn’t have been hard to find out that A was stalking and blackmailing the girls, just as Archie began to do in Millwood.

It wouldn’t have been hard to find out about Dr Sullivan’s son, given that Sebastian was used by A to threaten and blackmail her to the point she disappeared for a while. The same boy Archie killed after taking on the ‘A’ title.

It wouldn’t have been hard to find out about Alison DiLaurentis, the girl who disappeared. The original liars were in therapy to talk about her as well as A. It wouldn’t have been hard to find out that Alison was the typical, manipulative, popular girl who was also a bully. Everyone knew it. Not dissimilar to Karen Beasley, the popular bully of Millwood High that Archie murdered at the Spirit Week dance.

It wouldn’t be hard to find out that when the identity of A was revealed it was a young woman named Mona Vanderwaal, pushed to her action by the ceaseless bullying she endured at Alison’s hands, while the original liars did nothing to help Mona. Again, there’s one or two passing similarities to Angela, who was bullied by some of the popular girls while others turned a blind eye until it was too late.

Mona didn’t meet Angela’s fate, however. She did things a little differently. So differently that she started a ripple effect that inspired several shadowy figures behind the scenes with mysterious texts and their own agendas. Mona herself played a part in uncovering several of them.

So, in conclusion and to return to our question at the beginning, how did The Game(tm) morph so drastically from original show to reboot, and how did the persona of ‘A’ go from belonging to a cyberstalking mastermind bent on payback from the girls who bullied her to being attached to a vengeful serial killer who targets abusers and bullies?

“Whacky ass writing lmao who tf cares” is one answer, and tbh probably the right one…but then there’s the answer I came to instead; that Archie Waters in his stalking of Dr Sullivan discovered the whole ‘A’ mess and was inspired by the original A, Mona.

There are enough similar notes hit that the A that Archie would have found out about would have had to have been her, not Cece or Alex (right down to them both targeting Sebastian who’s really the true victim here lmao), and maybe have even become obsessed with Mona to the degree that he decided to adopt the ‘A’ persona that she created and take over The Game(tm) that she started, only to turn it into something far darker and more deadly.

Bonus points if Alex Drake’s big dramatic ‘A.D’ reveal as the secret twin gets undercut by the fact that someone else’s secret twin already pulled the rug out from under her and took off with the title of being the new ‘A’ while the original ‘A’ locked her in a basement in France. Because that’s incredibly funny.

Anyway…this is barely coherent and A Lot and I apologise. I just have a lot of thoughts and had to get them out somehow.

Please don’t come for me 🫠

[pianostarinwonderland]

Hi there! I really liked your post on Chapter 7 and Malleus's actions!

Gotta admit I was one of those people whose initial reaction to Chapter 7 part 2 & 3 was "Malleus divorce era", mostly because of the copious amounts of "Malleus is the physical manifestation of every abusive and obsessive boyfriend they talk about in trauma group therapy" takes I've seen over the past 3 years in the tags messing with my perception of how bad the canon situation actually is but I came around eventually.

One thing that really stands out to me is how, in the first part of Chapter 7, Malleus made the active choice to be a good person and do the right thing. He shut down Silver and Sebek and said "If that's what Lilia decided, then we have no right to stop him" and when he reflects on that time he froze the castle over it's clearly visible he, at that point, has no intention to do something like this again. He has learnt 0 coping strategies for these kinds of situations and he has a week (which is like, a blink of an eye for fae especially) to adjust to the loss of one of his closest loved ones. Most of us find a way to deal with grief in some way because we're powerless in the face of it and the only way is through it but I've seen my fair share of very mentally ill people and grieving loved ones and I can name a handful of people I could see pull this off if they had god-like magical powers. Right now, Malleus's idea of what the immediate future was going to be like is radically clashing with a (to him) infinitely worse outcome that his brain has a week to adjust to, so he snaps.

He's basically the "insanely op magic" equivalent of someone with a loved one suddenly ending up on their death bed and they're told "you have about 5 days to say goodbye to them" so they start suggesting all kinds of insane surgeries and hire a mystic healer who advertises they can cure cancer with crystals and call all kinds of specialized hospitals around the world because they can't process the fact that that person is gonna go no matter what. That's the mental state Malleus is in right now even if Lilia probably isn't gonna immediately die in a couple weeks, but there's still a very real possibility Malleus is never going to see him again.

[Reply to this post!]

i am so sorry that i'm only getting to this now :,3 woohoo end of year spring cleaning

also when i finally found the post that was being responded to, i was reading it and i wanted to cringe so bad. it could have been written better :,3 i'm glad you guys liked it though!

on the first long ask, honestly anon, you nailed it really well. i don't really have much to say because yeah... yeah malleus has never learned to properly cope with grief and loneliness. much of it is due to the way he was raised and the lack of social interaction especially prevents him from getting to experience enough and thus hindering his learnings. and you're right. a week is too much to really process for someone like him. it's hard.

and i'm pretty sure lilia is very well aware of this, so it brings to question why he's in a hurry to leave. which in itself supports the current theory going around that he's not actually leaving for retirement, he's leaving because the senate demanded him to.

for the second ask, weelllll not everyone got to understand malleus' extremities, either due to not reading properly or not getting to read his stories at all. and that's how things went bam during the second part of book 7.

[toxycodone]

i understand its all joaks and its lighthearted out of love for this character but it is a little sad to see things like laios being a minimum wage worker and having no friends being described as him being a loser when theyre extremely common autistic experiences 💔 because to be honest i think youre really cool and a great writer and i would like to interact more but it makes me go, is that what you would think of me? my life situation’s not too different from that. anyways i hope you have a nice day <3

no not at all I genuinely like being mean to Laios so take everything I say about him with the world's biggest effing grain of salt because I am just. mean to him in particular lol. i like to kick him when he's down. (evil and mean but to blonde men in particular)

but like. i am not cool at all. like...........ill put it under the cut but yeah.

real shit under the cut bc this ask is making me think! im gonna be real w u nonnie

tl:dr if u dont wanna see whats under the cut:

this ask kinda makes me think bc. i think im really mean to laios too bc he reminds me of myself beforehand (zero self confidence and suicidal idealization) sigh and I really hate being reminded of that. so. again. im really biased when it comes to him specifically and that doesn't apply to you or any of my followers.

and for what its worth i am sorry for making you feel that way.

but also. i gotta say I can 100% relate to him and you. this time last year I was working at Starbucks ( i could only tolerate 4 hour shifts bc i would get overstimulated and my coworkers lowkey hated me.) and had like. 1 friend from high school and the years before that I spent turbo online being constantly pushed out of friend groups bc i could NEVER get anything right socially. I swear the first 23 years of my life I never lived. i went thru hs and college as a fucking. like. creature I felt like i couldnt connect w anyone because I was too tormented by adhd + autism and i was INSANELY depressed and coping w lack of control by having an eating disorder and being doped the fuck up on stimulants. (MY PCP gave me 56 mg of concerta and 5mg booster of adderall i was fucking tweaking on the daily </3)

but like. i started going to therapy and a psychiatrist who made me quit cold turkey for my own good and we started treating my depression and debilitating anxiety (i was convinced a stranger was living in my house in secret but also that everyone in public who saw me was revolted by me and genuinely wanted me to kill myself jkdhsfskdjh i told you i was tweaking)

anyways. i was a druggie with no goal in life and living in my own head and now like. i can look at myself in the mirror and not think "hey. this fat ugly piece of shit should genuinely die" and now people in real life LIKE me. I have friends. multiple friend groups, actually. WITH NOT JUST ND PEOPLE. LIKE, A LOT OF THEM ARE NEUROTYPICAL. And i am very open about being autistic with them and i dont have to mask.

and they still like me! and invite me places! and genuinely want to hang out with me! and they think im smart and get uncomfortable when I say im stupid or too autistic to like. be able to be in public.

it still feels like a dream and in my mind im like "they actually are gonna drop you and make fun of you for thinking they were ever your friends" or like "theyre just doing this bc of the stupid buddy system shit or they think you're a pet this is highschool all over again"

but even tho im haunted by this. its....I can say with confidence its not true.

anyways. i know people say this shit all the time but I will say you are very capable of love and not a loser or anything like that. the thing you're missing out on is the right people. i didnt believe this for most of my life and tried to get myself killed because of it but im glad I didn't because it is genuinely true.

i have spent the last <1 year of my life genuinely being alive. and i wouldn't trade it for anything. idk if thats a sign for anyone yeah. take it

[buddieisgoingcanon2024]

Shots fired at C! This is exactly what most of us have been saying about her. I don't know how this relationship ever worked (I have an idea, but not the point at this time). I feel like we are getting a very clear indication that R almost committed suicide before meeting C or during the beginning of their relationship. It is looking more and more likely that she used his depression against him throughout, but especially at the start.

C won't shut up about how she is in therapy, and I believe that she is trying to insinuate something about R or the relationship. I am trying to stay away, but she brings up being happy or how this is the happiest she has ever been in almost every post/story. I get wanting to feel that way, but constantly staying that doesn't make me believe that it is actually true, yet. Have you noticed that she has a new group of friends now than last year? Like G has stayed and she looks like she is trying to poach some other longtime R friends. But where are the people she was posting with so much last year?

Every time he posts these videos about men’s mental health it is like a small glimpse into how they were never meant to be and how terrible of a partner she was for him. The story of the man who told this woman that some women “would rather watch me die than fall off my white horse” is very telling of the type of person C - it is not good. This house sounded like a nightmare to live in with her. I hope R shielded the kids from the worst of it because C doesn't see how harmful the way she was raised and the stereotypes she partakes in are harmful. She has shown us over and over again that she believes that men should be strong and never be vulnerable. His mental health struggles have definitely shown a new light on this already dysfunctional and disaster of a relationship.

What truly breaks my heart is all the times that we know that they were fighting - because they told us - and how that affected his mental health. I don't even want to know how bad it was when she realized that she was caught saying the N word and what she had to do to get R to come out and defend her. He misspoke in his ill-advised defense (I wish he talked to someone first and they could have talked him out of it) and I can only imagine the spiral that he probably underwent being accused of being a racist and all the backlash he received. She was pregnant with baby number 2 at that time, so I know this time was all about her, so he probably didn't bring up his mental health. He tried being the happy couple again after the birth, but Twitch was really the wakeup call that he needed.

Thanks anon for your in depth ask/comment. I also believe that Twitch’s death was the turning point in Ryan’s world. And how he let go of ALL the hatred he didn’t like after that happened. For example divorcing C (not in public yet).

[whumpcloud]

Delicate - As If

content: (institutionalised) pet whump, carewhumper, it as a pronoun, memory of a death threat, fear of being beaten or belted, alcoholism, chronic illness, brief discussion of death

Elio absolutely didn't want this. He didn't want a lot of things, he didn't want therapy or a support group or Sofia to keep bothering him, but he definitely didn't want a Pet.

The Pet looks up at him, quiet, like it wouldn't mind waiting forever if that's how long it took him to speak. It. Should he really be referring to it as it? Would it be stupid to ask a Pet what its preferred pronouns are?

Elio groans. He feels like he should be doing something. Should he order it to do something? Or think of rules? Does he even want to give it rules?

It's not the Pet's fault. But the silence and the staring and the stillness is starting to freak Elio out. He should send it back. Oh God, but what if it gets sent to some sicko or someone who hurts Pets or-

No justification is going to make him feel like any less of a creep if he keeps it.

"Master?" The Pet says softly. It knows it has no permission to speak, but it understands that it's supposed to take care of its owner. "Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

Master. Elio sticks out his tongue, as though just hearing the word burned the inside of his mouth.

"Don't… call me that," Elio says.

The Pet doesn't miss a beat. "I could call you Sir, if that would make you more comfortable?"

"M-My name," Elio says quickly. "Just call me by name. Elio."

"Oh." The Pet pauses for the briefest of moments. "I was trained not to call people by name. I'm sorry. I'll do my best, if that's what you want. It'll just take some getting used to."

"Trained not to--" Elio interrupts himself and sighs. "Fine. Sir is… fine."

"Yes, Sir," the Pet says, and gives him a small smile. The Pet can tell that its owner is feeling stressed, and it does its best to offer comfort, before it has to resign itself to a beating or belting. "Do you need anything, Sir?"

Elio fidgets with his sleeve. This Pet is his now, as much as he hates it. And it's right in front of him, so there's no way he can get rid of it now. He's going to kill Sofia for this. How could she get him a Pet? Now he has to deal with a whole other person in his house.

Oh, fuck. It's a person. Elio knows all the advertising around Pets - they're volunteers, they want this, it's all perfectly legal and legitimate. But that's just a human person kneeling at his feet. Elio shudders.

"...Sir?" the Pet says. Its owner keeps spacing out. Perhaps that's something the Pet is meant to deal with? "Please don't take this as me being rude, but are you listening to me?"

The way it hesitates makes Elio's heart sink. This is awful. What did they do to you?

Elio needs a drink.

"I- I'm listening," Elio says stiffly.

The Pet happily repeats itself. "Do you need anything, Sir? Or is there anything I can do?"

Happily repeats itself. Elio searches the Pet for some hint that it isn't entirely willing to do anything and everything that Elio says, but he finds none. Elio could probably ask it to do a backflip and it would eagerly break its neck trying.

"Tell me your name," Elio says abruptly. It doesn't even occur to him that this is now the third time he hasn't answered the Pet's question. "I- I should at least know the name of my Pet."

"I don't have a name, Sir," the Pet replies. Its voice is so small. "My name is whatever you want it to be. But I could tell you the name my old master used, if you'd--"

"You don't have a name?" Elio interrupts. How does it not have a name? Do Pets give up their names when they sign everything away? "And yes, tell me what name that sicko gave you so that I can never say it again."

Fucking hell, Elio, you didn't even let it finish talking.

The Pet uselessly opens and closes its mouth for a moment, before speaking softly. "My old master called me Darling, Sir. But don't feel like you have to give me a name. I'll respond to anything that you call me."

Elio wants to apologise. Surely he scared it by raising his voice like that? But its expression hasn't even twitched. Just gentle neutrality.

"Darling," Elio says flatly. "That's gross. God, uh…"

He has to give it a name. A real name, a name for a person, but he's coming up short. Pet. Pet. Peter?

"Peter," Elio mumbles. "What do you think of Peter?"

"That's a nice choice, Sir," Peter nods. "Thank you for naming me."

"Thank you for naming me," Elio mutters. "Jesus. Um. Pronouns. What are your pronouns?"

"I don't mind, Sir," Peter replies. "My old master used he or it."

"...yeah, I'm not… gonna call you it, then." Elio rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath. He's never had a stronger urge to get drunk than he does right now. "He. Peter, he."

Peter smiles again, and thank God, because the blank expression was going to drive Elio up the wall. He hates it, and a horrible part of him knows it's because it forces him to face the reality that there is a trained person at his feet.

Peter is just happy to be named. He would never, ever admit it, but he envied people and other Pets with real names. Of course he liked Darling, it was what Master liked. But Sir likes Peter, and Peter likes this name more. He gets to be Peter now.

"What were you supposed to do?" Elio asks. "Like, with your old master. What did he make you do?"

"I cleaned the house, I reminded him to take his medication, I gave comfort and support when I was needed, I deterred him from risky behaviour, and otherwise I followed whatever orders I was given," Peter says, easily listing off tasks. "But I was trained to do a lot of things, Sir. I'm sure I can handle whatever you ask me to do."

"Right," Elio mutters. "Sure."

Elio doesn't need a caretaker. He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Sofia overstepped, buying a Pet for him. But he has Peter now, and Peter looks so desperate to do literally anything that Elio is starting to feel bad for contemplating just ignoring him.

Is Sir mad at him? Peter isn't sure. But Sir definitely seems mad at something, and doesn't seem comforted by any of Peter's small actions.

"Sir, you seem stressed," Peter says. "May I sit in your lap? I've been told that my presence is comforting."

Elio eyes him, as if expecting him to have some ulterior motive. As if Elio even believes Peter would be capable of that.

"Sure," Elio shrugs. "Fine."

Peter is surprisingly tall, but curls himself up tightly enough that he fits into Elio's arms. He isn't as thin as other Pets that Elio has seen - in fact, he seems very well-taken care of overall, aside from being gauntly pale.

"Why are you here and not… with your old master?" Elio asks suddenly.

There's a crack in the facade. The tiniest crack, but a crack nonetheless. Peter's face falls, but only for a moment. It happens so quickly that Elio wonders if he might have imagined it.

"He died, Sir," Peter whispers. "Would you like to know the details?"

Peter swallows. He hopes Sir won't ask about this. Peter is very good at suppressing the few emotions he's allowed to feel, because they matter far less than his owner's emotions, but the only reason they labelled him defective at the shelter was because he couldn't- wouldn't stop crying when they asked about Master. What if Sir thinks he's too defective and sends him back after all? After everything Darling did, he doesn't want to go back, he doesn't want them to realise what a bad Pet he is and send him to be wiped.

"Nah," Elio mumbles. "I just wanted to know what happened."

Peter holds in the gasp of relief and just nods gratefully. Darling was a bad Pet. But Peter, Peter can be the perfect Pet for Sir, and Peter will never, ever hurt Sir, and Peter will hope that Sir is kind enough (and frankly, the bar is on the floor) that Peter can keep smiling and suppressing and maybe even forget there was ever a moment where he didn't.

"Do you want something to do?" Elio asks, sighing softly. "You look restless."

Peter quickly looks up at him. "I can keep sitting here if you'd like me to, Sir."

"Nah, you can… uh… clean the flat," Elio says. "I guess. If you want chores."

Peter lights up. "Of course, Sir! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be useful to you. How deeply would you like me to clean?"

Elio shrugs. "Just, uh. Don't make it just look clean, but I'm not asking you to, like, wash the walls or pull out the furniture."

"I understand, Sir," Peter smiles. "Is there an order you'd like me to clean in?"

"...nah." Elio is suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. "Don't, uh, don't make fun of me for how messy it all is."

Peter just stares at him. "Why would I make fun of you, Sir? That would be disrespectful."

"...right," Elio mutters. "I'm gonna take a nap, I think."

"Would you like me to get you some blankets, Sir?" Peter asks.

"Nah." Elio shifts to get comfortable. "I can fall asleep just about anywhere."

Peter nods. "Enjoy your nap then, Sir. I'll do my best not to wake you."

Peter breathes a sigh of relief when Elio falls asleep near-instantly once Peter gets up. He's so thankful that Sir won't be breathing down his neck while he cleans, making sure he does everything perfectly. He understands why Master had such high standards, Master needed things to be completely spotless for his health, but he likes that Sir doesn't need that.

Peter feels like he's breaking a rule when he enters Sir's bedroom, but Sir hasn't set any rules for cleaning, so Peter thinks it's okay. Peter tries to take his time - Sir didn't even set a time limit! - so that he can try to relax a little, but he's too used to cleaning quickly.

He finds empty cider bottles in the storage compartment underneath Sir's mattress, and bites his lip. He wouldn't think anything of it, if there weren't seven of them, if they weren't hidden. Peter… doesn't like drunk people.

You know what would be happening if I wasn't piss drunk right now? I'd be beating you to fucking death.

Darling quickly blinks tears out of his eyes. He doesn't cry, not unless he's told to. Crying is useless for a Pet like him.

If Sir drinks a lot, then Peter can take care of him however he needs. Whatever Peter thinks of it is completely irrelevant. He has a purpose.

A sudden sound starts to ring through the house, and Peter does nothing more than calmly return to the living room to find the source. Sir's phone is blaring an alarm but he isn't waking up.

"Sir?" Peter says, gently shaking him. "Sir, your phone is going off."

Elio's face scrunches up. Why is there someone shaking him?

Oh. Right. The Pet.

"It'll be my, uh, my glucose monitor," Elio mumbles. "God, that's why I'm so tired. What's the screen say?"

Peter looks over. "Low."

Elio sighs. "Can you get me, uh… there's Coke in the fridge. Since you're here."

Peter retrieves the can and hands it to Elio, who drinks half of it in just a few seconds, then nearly spills it putting it down on the coffee table. He mumbles a thank you.

"...Sir," Peter says, after a moment. "May I ask why you use a glucose monitor?"

"I'm diabetic," Elio replies, closing his eyes again. "...you know what that means, right?"

"Yes, I know what that means." Elio doesn't have to be looking to know that Peter has brightened considerably. "Do you need help with any part of that? I could remind you to take your insulin, for example?"

"I guess." Elio rolls over. "Ask me when I'm actually awake."

Peter pauses. "You'll need to check your blood sugar in ten minutes, Sir. To make sure that you're alright."

Elio groans. He almost says "then wake me up" but bites his tongue at the last second. He doesn't want to order Peter around for every little thing. That feels way too much like taking advantage of him.

As if being taken advantage of isn't the entire meaning of Peter's life.

Elio rubs his eyes and tries to stay awake.

taglist: @whumpsday @roblingoblin285

[loumauve]

sometimes I forget that it is in fact not normal to have sudden social anxiety spikes after only two days spent inside, away from other people.

(the kind that make it near impossible to even just step in front of the door and walk downstairs to check the letterbox, much less leave for long enough to get groceries)

rest of a long thing under the cut bc I don't want to bother anybody with my introspection. but I wanted it to be there in case someone else struggles with this. idk. helps to not feel entirely alone in dealing with this shit

and paid time off is a curse sometimes, because it leads to weeks not going outside, which then starts the entire cycle I've been working on disrupting all over again. and I know that the only solution is actually going outside even if it's just for a bit, but fuck if it isn't the hardest thing in the world sometimes.

and it's so at odds with how people know me, generally, folks at work, friends for the most part, because I've gotten real good at pushing through and just doing the things that my body tells me are dangerous, but then I stay at home for three days and I just.. fall apart.

it's not as bad as it used to be, I'm better at at least taking out the trash if I need to, and if I can work myself up to it even ordering food instead of going without meals if things get too bad, but it takes so much energy to do any of those small, everyday things that I should just be able to do. idk

I never really went to therapy for it even if it's the mental-illness shit I've dealt with for the longest time. they diagnosed me when I was 14 and by then I had probably 14 years of ingrained, bad habits built up. and they recommended group therapy which in retrospect probably could have helped a lot, but to me (teen bullied by other teens who felt unsafe around pretty much anyone, even at home) it sounded like hell so I refused to go.

I can still remember my mum telling me that I would instead have to work on dealing with it myself, finding strategies to live with it, I guess. we would play silly games like labyrinth before I'd have to go to school, but I'd just cry through it all and then oftentimes circle back home when I knew everyone would be out. suffice to say I did find ways to push myself to do the things that felt like walking into fire, and it worked enough to a point where it just felt like holding my hand over a candle flame for a little too long. bearable if painful. and I guess I'm still stuck there.

trauma therapy helped me process some things and put others in perspective, enough to at least move on (never forgive or forget though, that I'll leave to the people with bigger hearts) and we worked through some of the hangups, but overall not much has changed nor do I think it would given more time and therapy.

like my grandmother I struggle to make myself do things that I know I should sometimes. (and the Innerer Schweinehund is too strong) at least if I don't technically need to do those things to survive. instead I'll eat plain rice for weeks on end. or candy from two years ago, or drink coffee and eat nothing for a week. which, I know, is disordered eating which in and of itself would probably benefit from more therapy, but I guess as long as my body can deal with it it's good enough as is.

[luetta]

i'm going back to what 16 year old me used to do in full swing i think. type to myself on dead forums. wanna know a story about me? i used to post on that nazi reddit alternative website voat. for years. not anything political, i just made a subreddit that was my username and made posts everyday about how obsessed i was about a girl called rebekah in the grade above me. i never talked to her a single time in my life. she was just pretty. hundreds of posts. eventually randoms on the website found my posts through the new section and started commenting how creepy i was. and then i guess i referred to myself as a waitress and they started thinking i was a girl who had a lesbian crush. of course i did nothing to disavow that notion. and then when i was with my friend finlay in class, i was on a school provided laptop, seeing what the suggested autocomplete web searches for a, b, c, etc were. and when i looked up 'v' it came up with 'voat [my username]. i guess on this laptop sometime before i had searched it up. i begged him not to look it up and deleted it all the moment i got home but he just went on internet archive and essentially held this blackmail over my head for about 3 months. at the end of high school finlay wasnt popualr in our group (there was always someone who was the cyberbullied person of the day in our group.) and i honestly did a fucking asshole thing. i always say that i was nice and just a victim of this mean group but i did this thing, which completely undoes all that. there was a barbeque for the entire grade on a saturday, school organised but essentually our own thing. in the discord finlay was wondering whether to come, lots of us were there already. i said that there was barely anyone here lol. and that was a complete lie. i lied and made him miss this event for no reason other than to dogpile on him. that night everyone was fighting and i chimed in and he told everyone about my voat account and also about how we had accidentally discovered each other in a league of legends erotic roleplay discord server. so yeah that was fun. i refused to talk to him for like 2 years lol. anyways. the point of this is to say. that im gonna start doing that again i think. post a bunch of stream of consciousness text posts of angst and self loathing and envy and hatred. cus i feel like shit and that's my self harm. im too much of a pussy to do anything else when i feel like shit. i just sit on the computer and make myself feel worse. this can be my self therapy. getting my thoughts out instead of letting them fester inside my brain forever. i can't be fucked going to therapy properly. it doesnt help cus idk how to articulate anything properly. ill get asked whats wrong and ill be like. i dont know. and honestly thats barely a lie. i dont fucking know whats wrong with me. i know that there is something wrong with me, but i dont know the reason why ive turned out like this. im just a fucking weirdo i think. i literally thought that i wasnt a creep anymore after transitioning, that i figured it out. but nope. im still a fucking creep, thinking about girls that i know, obsessing about them. urgh. i feel like. i've fucked my transition up. i fucked up the choices that i didn't know were choices and now im someone i don't want to be. i just want to be someone else but thats not possible because the person that i am, currently, isn't someone that can be someone else. i know that you can just change who you are ! you can do new things and stop doing old things. you can be someone else. but i just cant. i try but i just always circle back to this. uninteresting blob of a person. who does nothing except sit in their room and wish they were someone else. an uninteresting blob of envy. that's all i am and will ever be, i feel. and that sucks. i dont want to be that, but there's nothing else i can do about that. im too uninteresting and unadventurous and afraid to reach out and form connections to people that i wanna. cus thats how you change as a person. by being with other people. you slowly give each other parts of yourself

[abandonedpie]

The Sleepless Wake - Ending Summary + Bonus Content

Title: The Sleepless Wake

Series: Part 2 of 2 of The Breathing Dead

Words: 42,221

Rating: T

Fandom: Momma CQ

Summary: Fresh struggles to cope with his brother’s death and the onslaught of emotions it gave rise to.

Content warnings can be found in the tags.

[Part 1: The Endless Sleep] Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

[Part 2] Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Ending Summary

It’s been 84 several years. As you may know, I started writing this summary ages ago, when I reached the decision to officially let go of TSW and give it a proper send-off. Things happened and my motivation strayed, but I am now done writing out the plans I had for the final chapters, so all of you can see the end of Fresh’s nightmare of a journey.

I’ll start by sharing the 5.4k words I wrote of Chapter 5 before the story was discontinued, and then a summary (with commentary) based on what I remember and made notes for. To be clear, I don’t love all these ideas and scenes—I’d reconsider and change some things if I did want to turn them into full-fledged chapters—but these are the events as I originally wrote and planned them, unless otherwise noted.

Disclaimer: Despite the limited research I did on psychiatric wards and other subjects, I don’t expect all of this to accurately reflect the way things work in reality. I could have spent more time digging deeper into that research, but...this is a fanfic... I may take my writing seriously, but in the end, having fun and writing the story the way I want comes first, which sometimes means allowing for inaccuracy.

Anyway, at the end of this, I have a few extra TBD-related things to share.

Without further ado, I present the ending of The Sleepless Wake.

The psychiatrist, Dr. Henriksen, looked up from his notepad and began asking a series of routine questions.

“Do you feel like hurting yourself?”

Fresh answered with silence. He had struggled enough giving a choppy account of what had brought him here and his own psychiatric history (or lack thereof). This question had a much simpler answer, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit how far he had fallen, that he wanted to die. Not that it made much difference; he knew his silence said plenty, and it wouldn’t take Dr. Henriksen long to gather more information from Fresh’s doctor and CQ if needed. Still, Fresh needed to try harder. He had finally figured out what to do…right? This had felt like the right direction at first, but he couldn’t see where it headed, how he could make it that far, or if there was even an end in the first place. He still felt lost, adrift in the middle of the sea with no land in sight; but at least now, ever since he opened up to CQ and Asy, he felt himself moving again. He felt a current carrying him somewhere. In a way, it was even scarier than staying still.

Eyelights full of patience and understanding, Dr. Henriksen tried a few more questions with little success before moving on. 

“I’ll need some time to determine which medications to start you on. In the meantime, you’ll have group meetings every weekday. I’d like you to attend them all and participate as much as possible, okay? Now, there are two goals you need to meet before we can discharge you. First, you need to complete detox, which should take about a week. But that’s just the first step. Addiction usually requires long-term treatment. To help prevent relapse, you’ll need to follow up with counseling and therapy, which we can get you started on while you’re here. Our second goal is to improve your mental state to where you’re no longer at immediate risk of hurting yourself.”

Until now, despite Asy’s mentions of therapists and medication, Fresh had somehow never connected what he was going through to mental illness. Was this not just how emotions felt? Wasn’t it only this bad because he wasn’t used to them, because he was weak and stupid and kept making things worse and worse for himself? That was just it, though. Emotions had roots in psychological and physiological mechanisms that his body had functioned without until recently. That abnormality was what had made him “sick,” but gaining emotions didn’t make him suddenly healthy. His soul couldn’t process them normally after fourteen years without them. This condition could, debatably, be classified as a mental illness, but because it was so unique, there was no precedent for treating it. Yet here he was in a psych ward for people with anxiety, depression, and other disorders.

Here he was in a psych ward. Him of all people, in a psych ward, in a wheelchair and a cast for the foot he had mutilated himself.

It felt unreal. Wrong. He felt wrong, like he was trapped in someone else’s skull, looking out of a stranger’s eye socket.

How had this happened? How had he become…this? Who was he anymore? What was he? CQ had said he was still in there, but Fresh didn’t see it at all. His old self had disappeared. Good riddance, he had thought. He hated that freak. But…something important had vanished with him. Something more. He wanted it back.

Dr. Henriksen finished talking to him, and a psych tech brought Fresh to his room, which had two beds. His roommate was a rat Metazoan named Emilio, who seemed far too cheerful and healthy to be there. He chatted to Fresh with little pause, going on about life in the psych ward and mentioning his plan to leave soon since he was feeling better. He didn’t pry about Fresh’s reason for admittance or how he got hurt; in fact, he seemed unbothered that Fresh hadn’t said more than a few words to him. Fresh knew it was rude to ignore him, but he was having trouble focusing on anything aside from the part of him he had lost.

Soon, the tech brought him to the small cafeteria to eat lunch with the other patients. She sat next to him, not only watching to make sure he ate, but taking notes on a clipboard as well. Fresh already hadn’t been hungry, and this didn’t exactly make him more inclined to eat. He ate anyway, trying to distract himself from the tech and his suicidal thoughts by assessing the patients he would be sharing this space with. Most of them, like Emilio, seemed to be of sound mind, but at least a few made Fresh feel less alone.

There was a girl with long, scraggly hair who seemed to be eating on autopilot, her face gaunt and her eyes glazed over. One guy sat fiddling with his plastic fork, shoulders and eyelids drooping. He spotted Fresh watching him, tensed up, and glared, even after Fresh looked away. Among a group of girls, one wiped at her eyes, quietly sobbing that she felt fat and couldn’t eat any more. She was the skinniest girl at the table, and her tray looked almost untouched.

The food tasted better than Fresh had expected, but it wasn’t long before he started feeling sick. The tech had warned him he would lose points for not eating; in other words, he might have to stay in the psych ward longer. Fresh wondered if they were literally on some sort of point system, but he decided that didn’t matter. His family would want him to eat well and be released as soon as possible. The nausea wasn’t too bad. He could handle this much food, so bit by bit, he choked down the rest. The only thing he wanted in his mouth for the rest of the day was his pills.

After lunch, nurses took all the patients’ vital signs and weighed them. Shortly after that, they had to go to their rooms. They were allowed to nap or do any other quiet activity for an hour. Emilio worked on a crossword puzzle. Fresh lay in bed, trying to sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t have managed to even if it weren’t for the scratching of his roommate’s pencil, his occasional whispers to himself, and the tech who checked in on them through the Plexiglas window on their door every fifteen minutes. Only painkillers could help him sleep. Quiet time finally ended, too soon.

The patients gathered for art therapy. From the moment it started, all Fresh could think about was Ink. How he might be doing. What Fresh had said to him. How he couldn’t take it all back, that Ink would never forgive him, that Fresh didn’t deserve forgiveness, he deserved to lose his friend, it wasn’t Ink’s fault, it was Fresh’s and it should’ve been him who died, not Ink not Error not Error—

Someone had wheeled him out of the room, into an empty one. She sat in a chair close to him, reminding him to take deep breaths and reassuring him that it would be okay. By the time he calmed down, his face was drenched in tears and sweat, and the art therapy session was almost over.

“Do you want to talk about what you’re feeling?” the tech asked. Fresh shook his head. “It’s important to address these things.”

For a couple of minutes, she tried to gently persuade him to talk, but all he did was sit in guilty silence, unable to get the words out.

He joined the other patients for an educational meeting about mental illness. While the woman leading the group spoke, he twiddled with the hem of his teal T-shirt. It and his pair of dull blue pants were among the clothes he had asked CQ to buy…was it only two days ago? It wasn’t as nice a change as he had imagined, wearing clothes that weren’t so bright. He felt less gross (that might have been because these clothes were clean), but without even one of his hats or pairs of sunglasses, they also made him feel fake, like he had betrayed a part of himself. This plain look wasn’t for him—his old self or the new. But the nineties neon look wasn’t for him anymore either. So what was? What did he even like? Who was he anymore? What was he? Nothing. Just a filthy parasite, taking up people’s time and energy and offering nothing in return. The world would be better off without him in it.

By the end of the meeting, he had forgotten what little information he had heard. He cursed himself the whole way to the day room. He had to start taking this seriously. Stop spacing out. Did he want to get better for Geno or not? Pull yourself together. God, it was hard. He was so tired… No, stop whining. Stop making excuses. He wasn’t even trying. He wanted to give up without trying. Lazy, selfish piece of trash.

On an intellectual level, he knew inadequate sleep impaired concentration and memory. He knew his mind wasn’t clear enough for sound judgment. He knew none of this was entirely his fault. But that didn’t change how he felt. His emotions had taken control over him, changed him, and left him weak. How was he supposed to fight something like that?

He was nearly in tears again as visiting hour arrived. CQ and Asy came in with a few other visitors, and they gathered in the day room with the patients. No privacy. They greeted each other, but Fresh didn’t return his mother’s hug.

“How is it here?” she asked as they sat down. Fresh shrugged. He’d rather be at home, or better yet with Geno, but complaining wouldn’t do him any good.

“Has anyone talked with you yet?” asked Asy. “A therapist, or…?”

Fresh gazed at his hospital wristband, not meeting their eyes. All they had asked of him was to try. He kept disappointing them, worrying them. He wished they wouldn’t worry so much. He knew how exhausting it could be, and it kept showing more and more clearly on their faces. Didn’t they have more important things to think about? That reminded him.

“Why ya even here? Uncle Asy.” He looked taken aback. “Ma said ya friend’s in a bad spot. It’s Book, right? Ya didn’t mention who ’cause I might worry? I don’t know him dat well, but…he’s important ta ya. Don’t ya need ta be there for him? Or is he better now?”

Asy’s hands clenched slightly.

“He’s doing all right.”

Fresh watched Asy’s face. His eyelights shifted, and Fresh’s body tensed. He felt sick again.

“No he’s not. Did he relapse?”

“He…”

“Forget it, I don’t need da details!” Fresh took a breath and lowered his voice. “What are ya doin’ here? Ya don’t need ta worry ’bout me. He needs ya more right now.”

CQ looked at Asy, worry knitting her brow. Asy hesitated.

“It’s fine. Star’s with him… And Fresh, you’re important to me too. I can’t visit whenever I want, so I have to come when I can.”

“Ya don’t…”

“I want to.”

Fresh watched them for a moment longer.

“How long has it been since ya set aside some time for yaselves? Forget about me. Dey lookin’ after me here. Ya need ta look after you.”

“Ah…”

They smiled slightly.

“You’re right,” said CQ. “I’ve been trying to take breaks here and there, but… I could use some proper rest.”

Fresh gave her a stern nod. Asy chuckled.

“Scolding your mother and uncle… Okay, we’ll look after ourselves, and you do the same. But we’re still going to visit. Spending time with family is good for us.”

“…Deal.”

CQ’s face glowed through her exhaustion. “Thank you, Fresh.”

His own face grew warm.

“Ah—it’s, it’s nothin’.”

“It’s not nothing,” said Asy. “You’re looking out for us. That’s your kindness showing.”

“Huh? No, I just, there’s no sense in puttin’ so much time an’ energy inta other people dat ya forget ta take care of yaselves.”

“Are you still trying to deny it? Don’t be so quick to downplay your own goodness.”

His face grew hotter. Okay, maybe kindness was a part of it, but this was also an ungrateful rejection of their own kindness.

“I’m just…” …not worth it.

He felt sure that it hurt to hear him say things like that, but they already knew how he felt about himself, and he wanted to practice opening up more. Maybe they could keep pushing him in the right direction. He needed their help…but wouldn’t it stress them out more to keep fighting his battle?

“Ya said…dat helpin’ me lightens ya load. But, ya both been tryin’ so hard for me, and, ya look exhausted…” He rubbed his eyes. He was no better. “I don’t want ya ta help me if it’s gonna do dis to ya.”

“We’re not exhausted from helping you,” said CQ.

“But…it’s still ’cause of me, isn’t it? ’Cause it hurts ta see me like dis?” The tears were back. “W-wouldn’t it be easier, if ya didn’t care?”

“Fresh… Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to stop loving you.”

He was trying hard not to break down in front of all these people. He could already hear their own conversations getting quieter, but not wanting to check if anyone was watching, he kept rubbing his eyes.

“Why? Why would ya do dis ta yourselves? I’m not worth it…”

“You are worth it,” said Asy.

He knew he couldn’t change their minds. The only way to help them was to get better, to stop giving them reason to worry. But to get better, he needed to let them help, and that meant sharing his pain, the parts of him it hurt them to see. Could he really not get better on his own? But…he didn’t have to. He was in this psych ward for a reason.

“Da people here are gonna help me get better, so ya don’t have ta try so hard anymore. Ya don’t have ta visit every day. If ya just wanna see me now and then, fine… But don’t worry about me. Please, just, take care of yourselves. I can’t watch ya hurt yourselves for me. I…I love you.”

CQ stood up and hugged him. This time, he hugged her back.

“We love you too. That’s why we have to help take care of each other.”

“Y-ya don’t… Ya don’t have ta fight my battle…”

“It’s not your battle. It’s our battle. We’re fighting to get better together.”

He squeezed her, still trying to steady his breathing, even as it kept getting harder.

“It’s okay,” said CQ. “We’ll take care of ourselves and trust them to help you. But try not to worry about us too much, either. If you ever want to talk to us, we’d rather you talk than keep it to yourself. Being able to help you, even just by listening, will make us happy. Okay?”

“…Okay.”

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

His mouth twitched into a smile. Asy stepped up behind CQ.

“All right, move over. It’s my turn to hug him!”

Fresh gave a shaky laugh, and CQ stepped aside. Asy wrapped his arms around Fresh, nearly lifting him out of his wheelchair. This was the lightest his soul had felt all day. The lightest it had felt since overdosing, actually. He tried to hold on to the feeling, but as Asy let him go and they sat back down, he already felt his soul growing heavy again. He fixed his smile in place and wiped away his tears. They were quiet for a moment.

“Is there anything else you need?” asked CQ. “Anything you’d like me to bring over next time?”

“Nah. Just a well-rested mom and uncle.”

“Of course. Maybe we can bring some kind of game to play together? We don’t have to talk the whole visit. It’d be nice to just do something fun and relaxing.”

“Yeah.”

He lowered his smile. It wasn’t working. There was something he needed to ask, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Ma?”

“What is it?”

He squeezed his own arm.

“…Do ya know how Ink’s doing?”

They fell silent again. Fresh drew a shuddering breath. He had just stopped crying, too.

“Could ya find out, if he’d be willin’ ta visit? I need to apologize…”

“I’ll ask him.”

Fresh nodded.

“Hey…” He looked up at her. “I’m sure he’ll understand you didn’t mean it, and that he’ll forgive you.”

Fresh knew she was just trying to calm him. It didn’t help, and neither did the next few minutes of reassurance. For the rest of the visit, Fresh sat sniffling while CQ and Asy tried to distract him with other topics. They stayed until the last second of visiting hour. After more hugs and a subdued goodbye, it was time for supper.

Fresh managed to eat only a little before stopping. There was no point in forcing himself if he was only going to throw everything back up. When had this become such a big problem? The tech was watching him again, so he explained how sick he felt. She assured him she would let his psychiatrist know. 

He spent the evening in his room, refusing to leave for music therapy. It would stir up too many painful memories. Even from this distance, though, he faintly heard music, singing, and occasional applause. He lay in bed and tried not to think of Error and his violin. He tried not to remember the times he had sat in his room, listening to Error play it two doors down the hall from him and clapping when he finished. He tried not to remember how happy it had seemed to make him, or how little he had played it since the night Fresh suggested he let go of Geno.

Emilio walked in only half an hour after Fresh stopped crying.

“Hey Fresh! Dude, that was a really good session, you should’ve come!”

His grin faded. Fresh looked away.

“Eh, it’s fine. Maybe you’ll feel up to it next time.” Emilio plopped himself down on his bed with a yawn. “So how was your first day here?”

Fresh didn’t feel like answering that, but Emilio went on as though he had.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough. It gets pretty boring sometimes, but the people are nice. Well, actually, you should watch out for Jakob. And by watch out, I mean don’t watch him. He hates people looking at him. I think he hates me too. He keeps giving me these dirty looks!”

Emilio chuckled. Fresh didn’t get what was funny about that, but then again, nothing seemed funny when he was thinking about dying.

“Anyway, yeah, it’s not so bad here. My favorite part is music therapy. Especially when I get to play the piano. Though most people look forward to visiting hours…” This all sounded familiar. Fresh couldn’t quite recall, but he thought Emilio had said these things earlier, too. “…saw you with your parents. They seem really supportive.”

Fresh blinked and looked over.

“Ah, he’s not my… Dat was my mom and uncle… He’s not really my uncle, but…”

He trailed off, not sure why he was explaining. It didn’t really matter.

“Oh, cool! So, what about your dad?”

“Never had one.”

“Really? Oh, sorry if I’m getting too personal.”

“It’s fine, ya not…”

“So your mom’s raising you herself? Cool. Gotta respect that. My mom’s been raising me alone too since my dad finally went to jail.”

Silence punched a hole in the conversation. Emilio’s tail twitched.

“Sorry, I just made things awkward, didn’t I?”

He scratched his head, looking away. Fresh tried to think of something to say.

“What’s your dad in jail for?”

“Haha, you don’t wanna know.”

Emilio fidgeted for a moment before getting out a journal and letting the conversation die. Fresh stared at the ceiling, wondering if he had gotten too personal or if he was just that bad a conversation partner in this state.

Mandatory bedtime was at ten o’clock. A tech continued checking on them every fifteen minutes, just as they had all day. Fresh closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking. His head ached. They had already started tapering the dose of his new painkiller, which didn’t work as well as his old meds in the first place. It wasn’t enough. He still felt sick. His back hurt. He couldn’t even shift into a more comfortable position because his foot ached worse than anything, and he didn’t dare move it. All of this would go away if he died.

A breathy noise distracted him. Emilio was crying. A sinking weight fell through Fresh’s chest. Emilio had seemed to be in such a good mood before talking with Fresh. This was his fault, wasn’t it? No, he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe something else was going on. Maybe Emilio hadn’t been as happy as he had appeared.

Fresh only got what felt like a few minutes of sleep, on and off throughout the night. In the morning, Emilio didn’t speak or even look at him. The tech who handed out their morning meds gave Fresh a new medicine alongside his painkiller, but he still felt sick afterwards, and he nearly threw up his breakfast from all the nausea and guilt. He wanted to sit out the first meeting of the day, but he had already lost points for skipping the evening meetings, so he joined the other patients.

The group leader had them all introduce themselves to Fresh and share why they were there. As Fresh had expected, several of them had been admitted for depression or anxiety. A few had eating disorders, two were bipolar, one was a recovering addict, and one had admitted herself for having the urge to kill her ex-BFF. Jakob, who Fresh recognized as the guy who had glared at him at lunch the day before, kept his head down and his mouth shut when his turn came. He seemed especially tense. Fresh tried not to look at him.

When Emilio shared that this was his third time admitting himself for thoughts of self-harm and suicide, Fresh felt numb. Lightheaded. He was trembling, sweating. The group leader asked if he was all right, but Fresh felt so far away.

He was slumped over, head on his knees. Someone helped sit him up. Before he knew it, they were bringing him out of the room. What was happening?

A nurse looked him over and checked his vitals. His head ached, and his whole body felt heavy. He felt sure he would throw up any minute. The nurse handed him a cup of water, which he drank obediently. Soon, they brought him to the room where Dr. Henriksen sat waiting.

“How are you feeling, Fresh?”

He looked concerned. Fresh kept his arms wrapped around his middle.

“…Sick.”

Right on cue, he gagged. Dr. Henriksen snatched up the trash can by his desk and held it under Fresh’s mouth, just in time to catch his vomit. Fresh gripped the trash can and spewed up a bit more. Dr. Henriksen gave him a moment to catch his breath, then offered him a water bottle. Fresh rinsed out his mouth.

“And now?” asked Dr. Henriksen. “A little better?”

“Yeah…”

He took the bottle and trash can back from Fresh.

“When did you start feeling sick?”

He got out his notepad and pen, and Fresh tried to think.

“After I got here yesterday…? Maybe before… But it gets worse…every time I try ta eat…”

“Did the medication you took before breakfast help at all?”

“No.”

Dr. Henriksen jotted something down.

“Okay, we may need to increase the dosage. Did you experience any dizziness or lightheadedness before this morning?”

“No…”

“How were you feeling emotionally before you passed out?”

Fresh lowered his head. Dr. Henriksen waited a moment.

“Did something happen?” The guilt had sealed his voice in again. “We need to address your emotions, especially when they start impacting your health like this. They’re just as important to talk about as physical symptoms. If you keep them to yourself, they could get worse and cause more problems.”

He knew that, but emotions were a lot harder to talk about. He needed to try. For Geno.

“I…was talkin’ with my roommate last night, and I think…I might’ve asked something I shouldn’t have… I think I really upset him, I dunno, maybe it wasn’t me, maybe it’s not my fault, but…”

“Have you asked him about it?”

Fresh glanced up. “No…”

“It is possible something else upset him. But if it was something you said, apologizing can go a long way.”

“I know…”

“Then, are you going to talk to him?”

“…I’ll try.”

Dr. Henriksen smiled.

“Good. Now… Aside from this and the nausea, have you been experiencing any other problems?”

“It hurts…”

“What hurts?”

“My head…and my foot.” He shut his eyes. “I’m so tired…”

“How are you sleeping?”

“I didn’t.”

The pen continued scratching on paper.

“Anything else?”

I want to die.

Fresh shook his head.

“How have you been doing emotionally?”

His body had grown stiff. Keep trying.

“Bad.”

“Do you feel like hurting yourself?”

Deep breath in, out.

“I…”

Dr. Henriksen waited patiently. Fresh squeezed his arm. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t…

“I want it to stop. But I don’t—want to hurt myself—I want…to get better.”

He pressed his hands to his eyes, teeth clenching.

“It’s okay to cry,” said Dr. Henriksen. “Crying is a release of emotion and stress. Suppressing your tears is unhealthy.”

He was just so sick of needing to cry as often as he did.

“It’s good that you want to get better. We’re here to help you do just that. For now, I’d like you to take it easy. I’ll have them give you something for the pain. If you still feel nauseous by lunchtime, let them know. Eat what you can. If you feel well enough later, join the others for group, okay? And if by then there’s no improvement, or if any of your symptoms worsen, please tell someone.”

“Okay.”

He lowered his hands. Dr. Henriksen was watching him.

“Lastly… Could you tell me what happened in art therapy yesterday?”

Fresh didn’t answer. He saw only one possible solution to that problem, and it rested entirely on Ink.

With the new meds reducing his pain and nausea, and the fog in his mind smothering his thoughts, he managed to take a nap after lunch. A tech woke him just before visiting hour. She kept talking to stop him from going back to sleep, then helped him into his wheelchair. He wheeled himself to the day room and found the visitors already there. His eye snapped to the spot they had sat the day before, scanning to see who had come.

Just CQ and Asy.

Soul growing heavier, he approached.

“Hey. How are you?” asked CQ. Their faces told him they had heard what happened.

“I’m feelin’ better…” He gripped his own hand, keeping his head down. “What did Ink say?”

They paused.

“He didn’t say much,” said CQ. “But he wanted us to give you this.”

She pulled a card out of her purse. Full of uncertainty, she handed it to Fresh. It was completely blank except for three words in Ink’s handwriting:

Get well soon

There wasn’t even a signature.

Fresh stared at it for a while, a strange heat rising in his chest. He didn’t quite understand what this meant, but one thing was clear. Ink didn’t want to see him.

With this card sucking out the little energy he’d had, he tried to brush it aside and turn his focus to the board game they had brought along. CQ and Asy went along with the topic change, but for the rest of the hour, Fresh couldn’t concentrate enough to play properly or even remember much of what they said to him.

Still having no appetite, he ate supper and returned to his bed. Emilio came in a few minutes later.

“Hey. You okay man?”

Fresh didn’t move. Talking seemed too difficult right now. Maybe it could wait.

“Sorry… Was this because of me? You started looking really sick after I spoke this morning. Was that just, weird timing, or…”

“…What?”

“Uh, what do you mean what?”

With great effort, Fresh turned his head to look at him. Emilio was sitting on his bed, looking confused and worried.

“No,” said Fresh. “Why are you apologizing…? Last night, I… You were doin’ so well till I talked ta ya. I shouldn’t have asked about your dad…”

Emilio’s frown deepened.

“Huh? No! I’m the one who brought him up… I thought I was getting better at talking about it, but… Dude, you didn’t do anything wrong?”

“But…dis morning…”

Emilio paused. “Did you think I was mad at you? Oh my god, no. I’m sorry, I’m the worst at mornings, I’m basically a zombie for a good half hour—and I thought you were mad at me? I know I can be a bit of a chatterbox; sometimes people get annoyed. But you’re not?”

“No…”

Emilio laughed.

“Wow, looks like we were both worried for nothing… Guess I still need to work on communicating my feelings.”

Fresh grimaced. He needed to work on that a lot more than Emilio did. If he had apologized sooner, this wouldn’t have gotten so bad. At least Emilio didn’t seem upset with him.

“Hey, you coming to music therapy tonight?”

If he was going to hear the music and probably cry either way, he’d rather do it in the near-privacy of this room, but he hadn’t been to a meeting since that morning, so he forced himself to go. The music therapist started by going around the circle, asking each of them how they were doing (Fresh answered with a shrug). He then passed around some small percussion instruments and invited everyone to sing or play along as he strummed a tune on his guitar. Several people sang with him, some shook their instruments, but a few, like Fresh, only listened.

Fresh hadn’t listened to music properly since Error’s death. There had been music in the movies he tried to watch, of course, but he had never been focused enough to appreciate it. It had never struck him in the soul like this. Something about the song, about being in this room with all these people singing and making music together, drew out not just memories, but raw emotion. The song wasn’t even sad, in fact it was rather upbeat, but within a minute he was weeping. The therapist was kind enough not to draw attention to him.

After an exercise in improvisation and a brief discussion about emotion in music, the therapist had them all sit back and listen while he played a peaceful tune. At the end, he asked how they were now. Judging by the others’ answers, Fresh wasn’t the only one who felt more relaxed.

Emilio joined him on the way to the closure group.

“Pretty good, huh? Hey, if you like listening to music, uh… Well, I have permission to play the piano in there whenever we have free time, and some of the others like to come and listen to me play. We have a really good time. You’re welcome to join us, if you want. I’m gonna play a little after night meds are passed out.”

“Ah… Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

He did think about it, and after listening to everyone review their success or failure to meet the daily goals they had set that morning, he decided it should be good for him to spend more time with them instead of hiding out in his room. These people were dealing with problems and trying to get better, just like him. He needed the reminder that he wasn’t as alone as he felt, and isolating himself made that feeling worse. So even though he’d rather sleep, he returned to the music room where a few others already sat, some of them talking with Emilio. He smiled at Fresh and waved.

It turned out Emilio not only loved playing piano, he was really, really good at it. With his first note, the ache in Fresh’s soul sank deeper. Emilio didn’t just play the piano; he played Fresh’s emotions. He spun a story out of sound and drew Fresh’s soul along for the ride:

This is as far as I got. Yes, I stopped in the middle of a sentence, trying to figure out how to describe this experience where Fresh resonates with the emotions in his roommate’s music, forming a kind of empathetic connection between their struggles. From this point on, I think Fresh begins to get out of his own head a little more, indeed feeling a bit less alone as he spends time with and gets to know some of the other patients. He also develops a deeper appreciation for music, though that makes it hurt more to think of Error and his violin.

Soon, someone new is admitted to the ward: Decans. I can’t remember any definite ideas I had regarding the circumstances for his admittance (maybe I was still working them out), but in the alternate universe this story takes place in, where he and Fresh never met as children, suffice to say that Decans is not doing well. Incidentally, he was going to have his arm in a sling, and Fresh was going to feel like he’d seen Decans somewhere before... Which he did, back during his first visit with Geno after the stairs incident, while he was looking out the hospital window. I wondered if anyone would re-read that scene and realize it was Decans, but now I’m not even sure it makes sense timeline-wise for his arm to be in a sling for that long.

Anyway, he recognizes Fresh as his neighbor, and when they end up talking, Decans reveals that he was the one who called the police the day of Fresh’s fight with Ink; he admits to having seen and heard some of what had been going on lately next door, what with being stuck in his house most of the time due to his condition. He had gotten a really bad feeling when he heard the two fight and saw Ink flee the house, seemingly injured, yet Decans almost talked himself out of calling the police.

Whether he says so here, later, or not at all, I believe a huge contributing factor to him making the call was his memory of the night Error attacked Fresh—all the crashing when Error destroyed his room, seeing through his window when Fresh was taken to the hospital, and then all the sights and sounds he pieced together to realize someone next door had died. What with all the things going on in that house lately, even just as they were observed from the outside... Catching glimpses of his neighbor in such a bad state (and perhaps seeing some of his own bad state reflected back at him), Decans didn’t want to dismiss this last incident as nothing to interfere in. So he called the police, just in case.

Fresh struggles with some mixed feelings, but ultimately thanks Decans for making the call that saved his life.

After learning of Decans’ condition, Fresh is initially anxious he’ll accidentally hurt him, but as the days go by, they talk more and start spending more of their free time together. Fresh continues to struggle with his cravings, sleep, emotions and identity. Yet his detox proceeds more smoothly, and with the help of Decans and his other new friends, he comes to see that he still likes his old nineties style beneath all the self-hatred and his understanding of Error’s hatred toward everything he was—that the problem isn’t his style, but himself, and his old clothes won’t feel right again unless he can make peace with himself.

Now this is a new line of thought, not part of my original plans, but I like it: Fresh feels undeserving of how nice these people are to him, and for a while, he doesn’t know whether to accept their kindness based on a lack of true understanding or to tell them everything he’s done and thus lose their friendship. Finally, he decides he doesn’t want to lie or be fake or hide the truth of his ugliness. He wants to be open and real, not the person who put on a smile or a facade, who Error had hated. In private and/or during group therapy, perhaps taking multiple attempts because of how hard it is to talk about, he recounts his experiences to the other patients. And they praise his courage in opening up. Decans, Emilio, and at least a few others offer him understanding, forgiveness, and their continued support. Cue another flood of mixed feelings within Fresh, that take him some time to sort through.

The days go by, with no word from Ink. I severely miscalculated how many chapters this would take. One night, a sound wakes Fresh up. A figure stands over the other bed, suffocating Emilio with his pillow. Fresh panics and tries to call for help, but his voice won’t come out. Emilio claws at the figure, Jakob, legs kicking feebly, slowing down. Fresh tumbles out of bed, scrambles over despite his injured foot, and fights to drag Jakob back. He manages to pull the pillow off Emilio’s face for but a second, moments before a couple of psych techs burst in and restrain Jakob.

I don’t know Jakob’s motive or what brought him to the psych ward, and I don’t think either was going to be mentioned, but I can say he has personal issues and reasons for trying to kill Emilio, and I never wanted it to come across as a case of Insane Equals Violent. As to how he got into the room without being caught...I hadn't figured that out yet either I guess. I was making most of the story up as I went along. Now that I know more about the universe of Worldview, though, I suppose his ability could have helped him? Kind of a stretch, since I imagine there would be some kind of restriction in place to prevent any patients from using abilities that could cause trouble in the ward.

Jakob is dealt with, security tightens, and Emilio comes out of this unharmed. He thanks Fresh earnestly for trying to save him, and though his injured foot is paying the price (it’s not more broken or anything, but trying to stand on it has gotta hurt), Fresh’s burden of self-hatred lightens ever so slightly. His friends praise him for his heroic deed, even when he tries to dismiss it by insisting he wouldn’t have been able to stop Jakob and it was the psych techs who had really saved Emilio.

Not long after this incident, Decans is discharged from the psych ward, but he is reluctant to leave. Fresh, also saddened to see him go (and to hear Decans’ parents would be unlikely to let him visit Fresh here), promises to meet up after he too is discharged.

I had no plans for the rest of Fresh’s stay, but while he has gotten relatively better, it’s by no means a full recovery. The first thing he does after leaving is visit Geno. This little reunion isn’t technically part of my plans, so while of course it would happen, I don’t have anything in particular in mind for it, other than the two seeing that they’ve both recovered somewhat. Maybe Geno is out of the hospital at this point, in which case Fresh goes home to see him.

Soon after, Fresh stops by Com’s house to apologize to Ink and swear he doesn’t blame him for Error’s death. No notes on this visit either, but it seems fitting for Fresh to speak with a door between them, and Ink staying silent at first. Then I’d say that upon seeing Fresh’s progress and sincerity, Ink forgives him, at least enough for them to start moving onward from the fight. He forgives, but doesn’t forget.

My notes say that Fresh tries to pretend he’s better so his family doesn’t worry, but now, though maybe he slips into that habit a little here and there, I’d prefer to say he pushes past it and keeps trying to stay honest.

Then there’s a note about Fresh learning of Decans’ home situation and that it hurts how he can’t help; Decans assures him he helps plenty.

Late at night, Fresh texts Ink in the hopes of distracting himself from his suicidal thoughts. Ink comes over to make sure Fresh doesn’t hurt himself. The whole situation is clearly tense and painful for both of them, and Fresh fears that despite their efforts, their friendship and Ink’s trust in him are broken beyond repair. I’m actually tempted to overwrite this bit and say Ink doesn’t come over at all, just stays up texting until Fresh says he’s going to sleep. Maybe their friendship stays rocky, leaving it ambiguous through the end as to whether they ever work through it or remain somewhat distant. Either way, I can see Fresh starting to spend more time with Decans than with Ink.

Christmas comes around (painful memories everywhere), and noticing the condition of Geno’s scarf, likely stained or ragged or simply with a loose thread, Fresh recalls the other scarf he made with Error years ago, for Geno. With possible help from CQ, Asy and/or Decans, Fresh works up the courage to search Error’s room. He finds the wrapped scarf in the closet and gifts it to Geno. As the last present he will ever receive from both his brothers jointly, Geno treasures it, and he may be too anxious that something might happen to it to risk wearing it, at least until his old scarf someday becomes unwearable. Alternatively, he might feel it’s safer to keep it on him at all times.

Geno starts reading the journals that Error left him. Though he struggles to hold them up or turn the pages, Fresh leaves him to it (CQ or Asy helps him instead), too scared of what the journals might say or make him feel to give them a look himself. They weren’t for him to read, anyway. But one day, at Geno’s tearful insistence, Fresh caves and reads a page that his brother tries to show him: in the middle of Error’s last journal, his final message.

In it, Error apologizes for giving up and says there was nothing anyone could have done. It was Error’s fault, not theirs. And at the bottom of the page, tacked on like an afterthought, is a message addressing Fresh directly, apologizing for hurting him and failing to be a good big brother.

Fresh breaks down.

As much as this flood of emotion crushes him, beneath his confusion and guilt, it sweeps some of the weight from his soul.

He soon starts talking to Error’s dust, expressing aloud all the things he wishes he could tell his brother.

After a time skip to Error’s birthday, one of Fresh’s roughest days since reading Error’s message, Asy catches him absentmindedly scratching himself until he bleeds, and it’s implied that this isn’t the first time. (I think this would fit better if he last did it sometime before the time skip rather than during the skipped months, but I’d rather just exchange it for a milder sign of heartache.) Asy gives him a Band-Aid, and they talk.

“Everything will be okay in the end. And?”

“If it’s not okay, it’s not da end.”

This next note feels pretty unnecessary for the story, but Decans visits and mentions his parents are going to divorce.

Fresh and Geno open up to each other about feeling they were born “wrong.”

As a “birthday present” to Error, Fresh promises to be the best brother he can for Geno, even if he’s too late to do so for Error.

I wrote some possible final lines for the story. I imagine the last scene taking place in the front yard of the house, with a get-together of Fresh, Geno, Decans, Ink, Asy, CQ, and some of their other friends and family (like Com, Star and Book, who’s doing well now) chatting and relaxing in the afternoon.

Something about their faces, and even the air, felt soft and clear. It felt like Fresh had woken up from a long dream. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to go back to sleep. He had a different kind of dream to look forward to. He took in the sunlight, took in the air, letting it fill him, and breathed it out. He was alive.

The End.

Everyone, thank you for reading!

To start off the bonus content, I want to share a poem excerpt I found when trying to come up with a title for the series, The Breathing Dead. This is where I got it from:

And is thy soul so wrapt in sleep?

Thy senses, thy affections, fled?

No play of fancy thine, to keep

Oblivion from that grave, thy bed?

Then art thou but the breathing dead...

~George Crabbe (1754–1832), “The World of Dreams”

The Endless Sleep and The Sleepless Wake are both titles I made up myself. I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this before, but I originally considered calling the second part The Sleepless End as a reversal of the first part’s title. Then I thought it might be too confusing or easy to mix them up, that they just sounded too similar, so I changed the last word, haha. The result definitely fits better. I do love me some titles with multiple meanings or interpretations. Layer ’em like parfait, yum yum.

Next up! As I recall, I mentioned a long time ago that I was working on a secret project. I’m not going to finish it at this point, so here’s a bit of what I did make...

A shimeji of TSW!Fresh!

And some rough drawings for a few of the sprites I didn’t get around to:

What a cute, squishable li’l marshmallow. It would be really neat to have the finished shimeji, but these things are a lot of work to make.

One of the last things I can think to share are the couple of side-fics I started (basically just self-indulgent fanfic of my own fanfic adjllsafhjdl), but I didn’t write enough for them to be worth showing anybody (also they’re kinda bad). One is a time travel fic where Fresh wakes up a few weeks in the past, in the hospital after his eye surgery, and has a narrow window of time to save Error. The other fic follows Decans, who discovers he can see ghosts—Error’s in particular. Error tries to use him to communicate with his grieving family, which naturally does not go too smoothly. A great source of more angst from both Fresh and Error.

And finally, I have a playlist for TBD. I wanted this to be an experience that flows seamlessly as it follows the story, but to finish ironing it out would take more work, so this will have to do. Keeping in mind that some songs fit better than others, I hope you enjoy!

The Endless Sleep:

Without You - Ashes Remain

Not At All - Get Scared

Anthem of the Angels - Breaking Benjamin

Say Something - A Great Big World ft. Christina Aguilera

Take It Out on Me - Thousand Foot Krutch

Nothing Left to Say - Imagine Dragons

If My Heart Was a House - Owl City

The Sleepless Wake:

I Can’t Breathe - Bea Miller

Give Me a Sign - Breaking Benjamin

Magenta - Nano

Hope of Morning - Icon For Hire

Don’t Wake Me - Skillet

Surrender - Digital Daggers

I Am Machine - Three Days Grace

Addict - Get Scared

Again - Crusher-P

Friend Please - Twenty One Pilots

Same Mistake - James Blunt

You Don’t Know - Katelyn Tarver

Second Guessing - Get Scared

Self-Inflicted Achromatic - Nekobolo (personal favorite cover: Mafumafu)

Tomorrow - Avril Lavigne

Ride - Twenty One Pilots

Never Surrender - Skillet

The Reason - Hoobastank

Thanks again for reading, and for supporting the story while it lasted, or even afterwards! It was quite an experience for me, with all its ups and downs. While things didn’t go the way I hoped, I definitely learned from writing this story, and I expect my writing will be better for it going forward.

If you ever have any questions about TBD, ask away!

[tkeyahwrotethis]

I remember, I remember when I lost my mind. There was something so pleasant about that place.

I met someone new in group today.

I feel so boring compared to these other ladies... lol which is kind of a relief.

The lady I matched up with today was... married. With actually a really nice ring. I'm super curious to know like why... is a married woman in a counseling group for single mothers?

She explained to me that she and her husband had known each other since they were teenagers. He was her first love and once they were in college they started struggling with substance abuse. She got help for her issues but his mental health got really bad, worse than hers, even though they both suffer from mental illness. He started becoming emotionally and physically abusive towards her and then she got pregnant and it somehow got even worse. Their child is 3 now. She realized he was never going to change because she tried to get him therapy and on medication to help him and he never wanted the help. He started being resentful of her and blaming her for things that could in no way be her fault if she tried but he needed a scapegoat.

"I sat him down as my best friend, someone I known for half my life and told him I needed a divorce because he's hurting our family. we both cried about it but he understood and told me he'd give me what I wanted. Why did this nigga start acting SUPER CRAZY. He started doing things that made the cops have to pick him up and admit him into mental health facilities for months at a time so he wouldn't have to legally sign the divorce papers"

(I chucked because that's literally so hilarious)

"She's like that's where we're at right now. I beg him and plead to him to sign the papers, we cry, and he agrees and says he will do whatever I want him to do, he wants me to move on and be happy then he goes and does some crazy shit that he goes away and never signs the fucking divorce papers. I feel like he's making me crazy again because why won't he just sign the papers?

Fast forward to today, I've moved out and I consider us separated even though he won't legally divorce me. I'm truly hurt by everything he's put me through but I decided to start dating. I connected with this guy he just got out of a toxic relationship with his bm, and they have 2 kids together. I have real feelings for this new guy but there's some red flags. He constantly compares me to his babymother when it comes to how I choose to raise my daughter and run my house but in the same breath will say he wishes he met me before he met her. It gets annoying. Then whenever my bd is home I try to get him help, I try to get him to sign the papers, and I'm still wearing the ring. So I'm not perfect either because I know that annoys my boyfriend. Like I always have one foot out the door in my old life."

She started looking to me asking for advice.

I basically told her that the easy answer is she needs to leave her bd alone. you cannot reason with crazy people. they will never feel like they're in the wrong. he's blaming you for shit that could never be your fault... but she kept making excuses for her bd so I feel like she's not closing the door on him right now.

I told her I don't really know my bd that well, random tinder hookup. He doesn't want to be a father so I'm doing it alone. I showed her pictures of my baby. She was like wow she's so beautiful she looks like a white version of you !! that made me giggle.

I kept thinking to myself .... what kinda sex mentally ill people be having lol

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Fever {6}

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hello! I’m back! I’ve been struggling with piecing this story together and I just finished my Masters which took a lot of my time, but now I’ve got time to spend writing for fun again! Abandoned stories I’m coming back for you! Also after writing this I���m realizing how much A/B/O I have been reading and yup, that’s apparently become an influence. 

Tags: @plainjaniedee

Warnings:  PANIC ATTACK MENTIONED IN THIS CHAPTER, Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment, Therapy Sessions, Language

Summary: Mike’s bug makes its way through the friend group, because, you know sharing is caring. 

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,656

On Monday, Ben was sick, Tuesday, Jess. There was no doubt that whatever Mike had was making its way through the entire friend group. There was something daunting about each of your friends leaving you behind and you waiting for the inevitable moment when you lose your breakfast.Wednesday, I got sick, I woke up and ran to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach. 

Dad cautiously entered, keeping his distance. “I think it’s best you stay home today.” 

I nodded, groaning as my stomach continued to do flips. “Jake’s supposed to come today.” 

Dad chuckled, “I don’t think you need him seeing you like this.” 

“Definitely not.” I snarked back, getting off the floor of the bathroom. 

“I’ll let Billy know that you’ve caught the bug, Jake’s probably not too far behind you. This things going through you guys like a wildfire.” Dad backed away from the door. “Do you need anything before I head for work?” 

“I’m good, just going to go back to bed.” I murmured, pulling the covers up to my chin as I crawled into bed. I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing and plodded downstairs to answer it. “Hello?” 

“Oh, you do sound awful.” Jake’s voice stated, a hint of worry in it. 

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Jake.” I teased weakly. 

“Do you need anything?” He asked.

“I think so, I’m sorry we can’t hang out today.” I murmured, leaning against the wall. 

“Who said we can’t hang out?” Jake asked. 

“My date with the bathroom floor.” I answered. 

Jake chuckled, “I’m probably going to get this since I was close to Mike when he was spewing his guts out, besides, we need to get your college applications rolling, they wait for no illness.” 

“Jake, you really don't want this.” I stated. 

“I’ll be over in an hour, Charlie’s going to be late tonight, he called dad, and I’m not going to chicken out just because you’re sick. So, what color gatorade do you want?” 

“Blue?” I murmured, glancing around the house, it wasn’t as much of a disaster as it had been in a while and honestly I don’t know that I have the strength to clean it. 

“Bells, it’s gonna be fine, don’t stress. You need to lay back down, go to bed, I’ll be over, I don’t need special treatment.”

“What, are you some kind of mind reader?” I asked before thinking and felt my chest contract. Fuck. 

“Just for you.” He answered. “Now go back to bed. I’ll be there soon.” 

“Bye.” I whispered, hanging up the phone and sliding down the wall. My heartbeat thrumming in my ears as it became hard to breathe. I knew it was a panic attack, Dr. Gilbert had spent a lot of time this week helping with identifying triggers and what to do if I was triggered. I just hadn’t expected to need to use her methods just yet. I started breathing slowly and deeply, wiling the shaking to go away as I pulled my legs up to my chest. I wrapped my arms around my knees, I had to hold myself together, just had to. Mind reader, my own voice was taunting me. Golden eyes flashed in my mind, no concern, just indifference. Then the tears started, could you drown from your own tears? That was my final coherent thought before I faded from reality and was pitched into darkness. 

“Bells?” Jake’s voice called from the door, and I opened my eyes, he rounded the corner and the bags in his arms fell to the ground and he closed the distance between us. Stopping mere inches from me before he was on his knees. “Bells, Bella…Can I touch you?” He murmured gently. 

I nodded and he took up the space next to me and pulled me into his chest. His arms wrapped around me as he pulled me close. “Breathe with me, match my breathing, c’mon baby.” He murmured in my ear. I realized the wheezing sound was coming from me. I started to match the rise and fall of his chest. “That’s it, that’s so good.” 

I looked up at him and met his dark eyes. “Jake, I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He murmured.

“It’s….I just….I…” I kept trying to start a sentence but he shook his head. 

“I don’t need to know until you’re ready. And you don’t have to be ready today.” He started drawing slow circles on my back. “We can stay here as long as you need.” 

I pulled myself up and he loosened his hold around me. “I’m still sorry.” I whispered.

He shook his head, but considered me for a moment. “So, I’m thinking maybe college applications aren’t the best plan for tonight, but I do have gatorade, some chicken noodle soup, and no where to be for the rest of the night.” 

“I’m already really behind though.” I murmured. 

“Well, let’s do gatorade, I’ll get the soup going, then we’ll see how you’re doing and evaluate what’s next after that.” He answered. “Think you can sit in the kitchen, keep me company?” 

I nodded and he gave me the gentlest smile before pulling away and standing up. He offered me a hand and pulled me from the ground and made sure I was settled into a chair at the kitchen table before he retrieved the hallway. He set them down and opened one of the gatorades and set it in front of me. I stared at it for a moment, wondering if the color blue that it was could actually be healthy for human consumption. But with the look that he was giving me, I knew I needed to start drinking it. 

He turned and started to cook after I took the first sip. It was odd, watching how comfortable he was in my kitchen. 

“Dad and Charlie have a lot of game nights and there’s only so much eating chips and dip a kid can take.” Jake joked, making me realize that I had said that aloud. 

“And here I thought that they were only capable of ordering shitty pizza.” I joked. 

“Pizza is a rare occurrence, only reserved for times when they lose a bet with each other.” Jake responded, giving a small smile to me as he turned away from the pot and let it begin to heat up. “So…do you want to talk about it? It’s cool if you don’t, I just…I can’t help but feel a little guilty.” 

I raised my eyebrow, “What do you have to be guilty about?” 

He chuckled, “I feel like I inadvertently caused your panic attack, and I want….I want to make sure I don’t do it again.” 

“You didn’t, trigger it, I did. It’s not a big deal.” I answered. 

“Bella, you were on the floor for an hour.” He chided.

“I was on the floor all morning with my toilet.” I answered. 

“Not the same.” He urged then sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” 

I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. “It was the joke, I made. About mind readers, it was a running joke with him, and I didn’t realize that it would affect me.” I should be worried about how easy that lie was. 

Jake’s eyes softened and he nodded. “Thank you for telling me.” He turned back to the stove and glanced at the pot before turning back to me. “Is there anything I should avoid saying, or doing?” 

Leaving. My mind supplied, but I pushed that down, remembering how Dr. Gilbert had said that it was important for you to share triggers with people you were around, but that one didn’t feel like it needed to be shared right now, but you should also be open. “I’m still working on knowing them, but blood, um, I don’t know. We talked about potential ones this week.” I started tapping my fingers on my leg. “Dr. Gilbert thinks that after everything, abandonment, someone leaving without any contact, that might be a trigger.” 

The full force of Jake’s gaze was locked on me now, for a moment I willed the stove to start boiling over, no luck, now that would be a power. “I’m not planning on going anywhere, Bells.” He murmured. “Not for a long time.” 

A warm feeling blossomed in my chest at that, at the sincerity in his tone. I just nodded and he turned back to the stove. It felt odd, that warm feeling in my chest, I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to feel it again. Was it too soon for that feeling to be there? I was pulled from my thoughts by Jake setting a bowl of steaming soup in front of my face. 

“Dinner’s served.” He stated, a grin on his face as he pulled up a chair across from me with his own bowl.

I took a tentative sip from my spoon, my stomach remained settled so I tried a bit more. “It’s good.” I murmured. 

“I’ll be sure to pass the review onto Lipton.” Jake replied, smile still in his eyes. 

We ate the rest in silence, Jake checking to see if I needed anything else, checking to make sure that I was still feeling alright. “You know, you’re probably going to be in my seat soon enough, maybe you should be worried about yourself.” 

“I guess you’ll just have to return the favor.” Jake said with a wink as he cleaned up the table, putting the remaining soup in the fridge. “Maybe Charlie will need something. Alright, lets start on your application.”

We settled on the couch, Jake took my laptop from my hands and settled in, opening Peninsula’s website. “So, you’re thinking education, right? Or do we want to go with undecided?” 

I paused for a moment, mulling over the daunting fact that the choice of my future was going to be left up to the little blank boxes on the application. “Education, undecided feels too open for me.” 

Jake nodded and continued typing away. “So there’s some questions, I can hand you the laptop, or you can dictate to me, whichever works for you.” 

“You can type, that way I can ensure that it’s made into something intelligent.” I answered. 

“Are you calling me smart, Bella Swan?” Jake teased. 

“I’d definitely call you a smart ass.” I answered, without missing a beat, laughing at Jake’s mock hurt face. 

“Alright, tell me about an influential person in your life.” 

I started to ramble about Dad, about how much he meant to me, how much it meant that he wanted to help people. The questions continued in the same manner, me rambling an answer, Jake editing it down and giving it more of an academic feel. I hadn’t noticed how much time had passed until I heard the door open. 

“Bella?” Dad’s voice called from the doorway. 

“In the living room!” I called back, hearing his footsteps shuffle into the house. 

“Ah, Jake, how are you?” 

“I’m good, Charlie. There’s extra soup in the fridge, we’re working on Bella’s application to Peninsula.” 

“Peninsula’s a good school. Are you feeling better?” Dad’s focus was turned back to me. 

“I kept down a bowl of soup and some Gatorade.” I answered. “Seems like it’s calming down.” 

“Good to know.” Dad responded. “I’m going to eat then head up to bed, Jake, make sure that you let Billy know if you’re running late. If you need, just sleep on the couch.” He shuffled into the kitchen, but his eyes were tired, his walk unsteady. 

“They’re really trying to figure out what’s going on in the forest aren’t they?” Jake asked once he was out of earshot. 

“Yeah, it’s been a rough week.” 

“We’re almost done, just need you to fill out all your information, social security number and all that.” Jake said, passing the laptop to me. His eyes wandered to the kitchen as Dad wandered upstairs with a small wave. 

I typed in the final blank spaces, glancing over the application, then the cursor hovered over the submit button. It seemed so real, and somehow, not quite real. Jake’s hand bumped mine. “C’mon, it’s not so scary once you send it away.” 

I nodded and clicked the button, the screen turned to a spinning wheel before a large congratulations filled the screen. “All done.” I murmured. 

“Not so bad, was it?” Jake gave me a small bump with his shoulder. 

“Definitely had worse.” I responded, closing the laptop and setting it aside. “Thank you, for everything.” 

“Anytime, like I said, I’m not going anywhere.” Jake murmured, his hand reaching out for mine, linking our fingers together. 

There was something easy about physical contact with Jake, there was a weight to it, but it didn’t have to carry that weight, it was easy. It was just Jake, it was an anchor in a storm. Regardless how heavy the winds blew, I knew that I wasn’t going to go anywhere, and I wasn’t going to lose him. 

“I should head home, let Billy know that you’ve got at least one application out there, and that you’re feeling better.” 

I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I really do appreciate it, not sure how to repay it, aside from having chicken soup and gatorade ready when you get this.” 

“You don’t need to worry about paying me back, Bells.” Jake replied giving my hand a squeeze before he stood up. “I’ll see you soon. Good night.” 

“Night, Jake.” I murmured, getting up to walk him out the door. I stood at the door while I watched his tail lights fade in the distance. As I settled into bed, I gave a silent prayer that the butterflies in my stomach were exactly that, butterflies. 

A few days passed and the phone started ringing, Dad sighed and answered it before handing it to me over the kitchen table. “For you.” There was a glint in his eye that I was starting to associate with Jake. 

“Hey, Jake.” I quipped as I took the phone from him. 

“Hey, Bells.” Jake’s voice came through the line, gravely and distorted. 

“You’re not sounding so good, I warned you that you were going to get this. What time do you want the soup and gatorade?” I asked. 

“As much as I would appreciate it, I don’t think this is the stomach bug you had.” His voice sounded so weak. “I don’t want to get you sick, you just got better. I’m going to need to take a raincheck on that soup and gatorade for now.” 

“Are you sure, I’m not afraid of a cold.” 

“Bells, please, don’t come. I’ll call you when I’m feeling better, promise.” 

“Okay, I hope you feel better.” I murmured. 

“Thanks Bells, I’ll talk to you soon.” He replied, then the line went dead. 

“You going to play nurse to Jake?” Dad asked, a smirk under his mustache. 

“He said that he didn’t want me around, thinks it’s something different from what I had.” I answered. 

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Sure.” 

I tilted my head at him, a small smile on my lips. “You sound like you disagree.” 

“I know that if I had a pretty girl willing to play nurse to me, I’d want her there, but I also might not want her to see me as less than macho.” He answered, raising his eyebrows as he took a sip of coffee. “Probably just wants to be a tough guy to you.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever you say, Dad.” I grabbed my truck keys. “I’ll see you after school?” 

“Barring anymore attacks, you’ll see me.” 

School was relatively normal, Jess and Ben commiserated with me over the stomach bug, somehow Ange had managed to make it out unscathed. Jess immediately tuned into the knowledge that Jake had taken care of me. Then she tried to make a plan for me to play nurse that I knew Dad and Billy would not approve of, although, given how hard the two of them seemed to be trying to push Jake and I together, I’m not too sure of how opposed to it they would be….

I settled in at home with some homework, Dad had thrown together a meal and tossed it in the oven. He was watching it as it cooked. “A watched pot may never boil, but a watched meal won’t burn.” He muttered as his eyes remained locked on the oven. 

Once I was done with my homework I grabbed the phone and called Jake. The phone line was busy. I sighed, but put it back on the hook. I called after dinner, same busy signal. I tried to hide my disappointment from Dad, but he caught it as he watched me climb up the stairs.

“Billy’s probably got the lines all tied up.” He murmured reassuringly. 

“Yeah, probably.” I murmured. 

I hunkered down in my bed that night, with an uneasy feeling as I tried to find sleep. The days continued, calling Jake, either getting a busy signal, or Billy. Billy’s comments were always the same. “Sorry, Bella, Jake’s asleep. He’s currently in the bathroom and I think he would kill me if you heard him vomiting. Hell of a bug you guys are passing around.” 

“Just give him some time, Bella.” Dad responded. “Talked to Harry today, says he thinks he’s got mono. You definitely don’t need to be wrapped up in that.” 

“Don’t you get mono through kissing?” I asked. 

“Exactly why you’re not going down there.” Dad answered. 

“Dad!” I yelped. 

“Just calling it as I see it. You don’t take care of someone who’s sick if you don’t care about them.” Dad said with finality. “Give him a week, see if he calls you back. If not, then you can call him non-stop, hell, knock down Billy’s door for all I care.” 

One week, I can do that. I thought to myself. What I didn’t tell myself was, a week can seem really long. Everyone warns you that healing is not a linear process, there isn’t a delusion that you will suddenly become perfect. But, the thing they don’t always tell you about spiraling is that you never know when it will hit you. They tell you to be mindful of triggers, things that might send you over the edge. But what are you supposed to do when they hit you out of nowhere? And how are you supposed to know all of them when you haven’t experienced them? So I called, maybe a day short of a week, but it was close enough. 

“He’s feeling better Bella, but he’s not around, he’s out with the boys.” Billy answered. 

“Thanks for letting me know, Billy.” I murmured, hanging up the phone. He was out with the boys and didn’t have the decency to let me know he was okay, after everything. You’re not worth caring about. My mind supplied and I shook my head. I matter to the people who I care about, who care about me. I argued. 

You’re not worth it. Echoed in my mind. I stormed out of the house and into the forest. The image of the meadow flooded my mind. I tried to shake it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Today, I would find it. On my own. Hiking entailed a level of grace and coordination, that by this point, I should have known I didn’t have, but I was determined. I was going to find that damn meadow. What I was going to do when I found it, maybe I would finally be happy to know that it was real. Maybe I would just set it on fire. Who knew? After a few hours I finally found it. The blue flowers still dotting the grass. 

It was real, a giggle escaped my lips. I had found it. I pushed away the memories of what had happened the last time I was here and just breathed in the scent of the flowers as the wind blew through, causing them to bend and sway. It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t me imagining a better place. It was real. 

“Hello, Bella.” I heard a familiar voice behind me. 

I turned quickly, losing my footing and falling as my eyes settled on Laurent. His eyes were a bright red, from what I could remember he was supposed to be with vegetarians, that seemed unlikely now. “Laurent, what a surprise.” I said as he offered a hand to me and pulled me up. 

“Yes, well, I was in the area. I stopped by the Cullen’s, but they weren’t in.” 

I let out a chuckle. “Well, you know how it goes. They like to travel.” I tried to keep myself calm, he would sense any shift in my heartbeat, hopefully he took the pace for startling me. 

“It almost seemed like they had moved on.” 

“They did, they visit from time to time, though.” 

He studied me for a moment. “I am surprised that Edward would go anywhere without you.” 

I shrugged, “It is harder when you’re just a human. I’ll have to let them know that you were around though, they’ll be sad to have missed you.” 

Laurent gazed around the meadow, inhaling deeply. “I am sure. It has been…enjoyable spending time with their cousins.” Something flashed in his eyes before he let out a wry chuckle. “But the diet is hell on someone who is not used to it. I have to admit, sometimes, I cheat.” His gaze turned directly to me. 

“Jasper struggles too. He has to be so careful at home.” I wrapped my arm around my middle.

Laurent smiled. “As do I.” He took a step closer to me. 

“Did Victoria find you?” I asked, realizing it sounded more desperate than I had intended. 

He faltered, “Yes, she did. I actually came here for her.”

“Oh, is she around?” I asked. 

“She’s… around.” He murmured. “She is going to be put out I fear.”

“Because she missed you?” 

Laurent rolled his eyes, like one does with a child who has asked one too many questions. “Because, dear Bella, I’m going to kill you.” 

My heart beat thrummed in my ears. 

“She wanted the honor.” Laurent stated, taking another step towards me. “Edward killed her mate, it’s only fair that she kills his. A mate for a mate.” 

I was going to die, in this meadow. This fucking meadow that I had to find, fuck this place for being real. “It’s such a shame, to find you, while I’m hunting. I imagine she will be angry, but she’ll be angry for a millennia over James.” Laurent shrugged, taking a deep inhale through his nose.  “And you, are so…mouthwatering. It’s amazing that Edward never took a taste.” He stepped closer, reaching out for a strand of my hair, but froze. “It can’t be.” His eyes were staring behind me. 

I turned my neck to see hulking figures emerge from the tree line. Bears? He was afraid of bears? I turned further and saw them, wolves. But they weren’t normal wolves, they were giant, what was in the water around here? A snarl ripped from the black wolf’s maw as he walked towards Laurent, ignoring me. I froze as more followed behind it. Laurent was backing away, eyes wide. A growl sounded from my right, I glanced over to see a russet colored wolf stop ten feet from me. I made eye contact with the wolf, and it froze, a huff of air burst from its mouth. I felt warmth in my chest as it stared at me for a beat longer before turning towards Laurent, lip raising to show its impressive teeth. The black wolf let out a bark and Laurent ran, closely followed by the wolves. The one that had met my eyes glanced back for a second before racing after the others. One final howl and the forest fell silent. 

“What the hell are you doing, Bella?” I asked myself, looking around the meadow. I could have died here, was that what I wanted? No, it’s not. I turned trying to remember what direction I came from, and the direction the wolves and Laurent went. It must have been a few hours before I finally found my way out of the forest. There were no signs of the wolves or Laurent, I raced into my truck and felt the tears begin to flow. Sobs fell from my lips. I calmed myself and let the growl of the engine soothe me. 

I finally reached the house, the sun was starting to fade behind the treetops. “Bella?” I heard Dad’s voice call the second I entered the door. 

I tried to make my voice even. “Yeah, it’s me.” 

“Where were you? I was worried sick…” His tirade was cut short when he saw me. “What happened?” 

“I went hiking and I… I saw the wolves, it’s not bears dad.” 

Dad’s eyes went wide as he started looking over me. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, a few scratches, I fell.” 

“What were you doing in the forest, we’ve talked about this. And now that I know there are wolves and it’s not bears…” 

“I just, needed to do something, and I didn’t realize I was so deep into the woods and then…” I trailed off as the tears started again. 

“Bells.” Dad murmured, pulling me into his chest. “No more hiking, not until we get this wolf situation figured out.” 

“I promise. I’m sorry, Dad.” His arms tightened around me. 

“You hungry?” 

I shook my head, “I just want to head up to bed.” 

“Okay, kiddo.” He murmured, I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked up the stairs. I got into my room and heard a rapping on my window. I felt the panic rise in my chest, she was here. I looked and saw Jake, hanging onto the tree and gesturing at the window. I sighed and pulled it open. “What do you want?” 

He raised a hand at me. “I just want to talk.” 

“You want to talk, now?” I asked, gesturing at the sky. 

He sighed, “Please, Bells.” His eyes met mine. 

“Fine.” I stepped aside and he launched himself through the window, landing on light feet. 

His gaze moved back to mine. “I’m sorry.” 

“About what? Ditching me for Sam’s gang?” I started in on him. 

“I didn’t…” He started. 

“You did.” I snapped. “You left me, just like he did.”

Jake winced visibly at that statement. “Bella, I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t….”

“Save it, Jake.” I glared up at him. “I’m glad you have new friends. I hope they are better company that I was. And you can fuck off.” 

He stared at me, shock evident in his face. “Bella, please, give me a chance to explain. I didn’t…” 

I cut him off, “There is always a choice and you made yours.” 

He glanced back at me, his eyes looked like they were filling with tears. “Alright, do you want me to leave?” 

“I think that would be best.” I answered, trying to ignore the pain I saw in his face. 

“Okay. I’ll go.” He murmured, giving me one final glance before jumping out the window. I saw him run off and glance back one more time before he disappeared into the tree line. In the distance I heard a single wolf’s howl. 

The anger that had come to the surface died down and I felt tears start in my eyes. I threw myself onto my bed and sobbed into my pillow. I was alone again and it felt like someone was clawing at my chest. When sleep finally overtook me, I dreamed of the wolf, and his eyes. Those eyes, they were so familiar…

[autumnbell32]

I finally got someone on the phone about the referral for TMS therapy. I guess my referral is "on hold" because I was "terminated" from this behavioral medical group years ago. It was after seeing a certain NP when I was released from hospital post-attempt. I don't even remember exactly what happened, but I do remember asking to not see a certain practitioner who was very disengaged, had her back to me the whole time during the office visit, showed next to no empathy and most importantly I wasn't getting better while under her care. I was never belligerent or disrespectful, I'm not a rule breaker, I'm a really straight-edged person actually.

But I think I've screwed myself with this referral because I did express frustration for not being able to get anyone to call me back and at least tell me the status of my referral and I was tearful (imagine that...someone with decades of dealing with a chronic illness breaking social norms by crying and feeling desperate for relief), so I am probably solidifying in their minds what they already think of me. It is possible, per the person I talked to, that I may not be able to to get TMS there and even if I can, it could be several months. If I have to find the treatment elsewhere, the process could start all over again. When I then expressed anxiety- because what am I supposed to do for several months while my undertreated illness continues to wreak havoc on me- she asked if I was su*cidal. The question they always ask when they have nothing else to reach for. The answer is "no," because I am not. I'm just tired of dealing with the same level of suffering day in and day out.

Because this one doctor was ego-hurt years ago that I found her cold and apathetic while I was struggling with new psych diagnoses, and because they decided to terminate me (I'm probably going to request records so I can see exactly what happened at the office level...once I have the energy...if I ever have it because I am minimally taking care of myself right now), this is having far-reaching consequences for me and my medical care, and will likely extend my suffering quite a bit. It also sucks because I deal with thoughts every day that I am a bad person, undeserving of good things- including the medical care I need to get bettter- when I know that isn't really true, it is just the depression talking. Still my mind burns and tortures me with these thoughts and this made it worse, and I don't know how to stop it. How do you not see yourself as a monster, when your brain tries to convince you that you are?

Maybe I am a “problem patient,” as they’d say. Or maybe I’m just a regular person pulled so far from their baseline self because of years of countless medications and dealing with being stigmatized and undertreatment of a severe mental illness and a brain that is trying to kill her. Either way, I guess it doesn’t matter.

**Update: my healthcare team was kind of irritated by this obstacle the referral put up for me, as they know I have a strong drive to get better and they know that I do the work and am cooperative. My doctor sent the referral to another place that “he likes better anyways,” and he thinks I can get in more quickly this way.

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

It is I again ... :)

Well, I actually forgot about the existence of this blog, it has been ... 5 years? Is that possible? That sounds like a lot, it's scary how much of my life has already passed.

I am yet again depressed and disassociated. This time I also packed an eating disorder with me, so it's not all the same boring routine... Splendor at it's finest.

A year and a half ago or so I started university and honestly, I hate university. I have very few friends there and one of them forgot about me the second she got better so I decided to cut her off, to not feel the shame of being used. The other one is also quite mentally ill to be honest and she also suffers from an ed, which makes it hard for me to interact with her as someone trying her best to recover. I recently had a lapse (or relapse? I can never understand what's more appropriate and calling it relapse just feels like I am bragging for attetion) and when I decided I'd stop it and try to recover again, I had to bring the time I spend interacting with her to a minimum. Maybe some people will call me selfish, but do I care? If you were in my shoes, you'd talk differently. People's hate is just the cost of making your own decisions about life it seems.

On another note, I am going to therapy, yay. I also went to this ed treatment center when things got bad with eating and I am still going there in secret from my family.

Now that I mentioned therapy, there is one thing I really want to write here. It happened almost a year ago already, but it honestly still haunts me. Maybe I am too dramatic idk, people have it way worse...but this is MY note so I can write whatever I want right... xd

Well, when I became anorexic about 2 years ago, I sought out a therapist. She was recommended to me by my friend I mentioned above with whom I no longer interact. It was an old woman, 60+, very short, but this person had something so unsettling about her, Charlie, that you entered the room she'd sit in with a feeling of being somehow tried by a figure of immense evil. I felt something was strange about her quite early on, but this lady charged very little for her services and I am a poor student, so I didn't want to give it up... Until one time. She'd often make weird remarks about how pretty I am, asked me who had green eyes, if my mom or dad, I believe it was already on the first or second session... I felt weird, but decided to overlook it. She then later on kept mentioning another client of hers, telling me that I could meet him and talk to him as we both have a history of living with a very manipulative grandfather. I assumed she meant calling him to one of our sessions and having this weird group therapy. Well, I was wrong. One day she asked me if I've ever had a boyfriend - I haven't yet, so I told her no. She acted as if this was a problem - what a total c*nt tbh :^) - but anyway, she then later in the session mentioned him again and kept saying that he is old, way older than me. I felt weird, so I asked how old? And she replied: "Quite old." ??? red flags, I know, but well, I made her tell me he was 34 or so. I don't exactly remember. Well, she said again that we have to meet up, me and him. I was like mhm she probably means some different time. No. At the end of our sessions someome rang her bell and she replied: "*his name*, come in" I was scared, even though still trying to convince myself that nothing is wrong. Well, I wanted to leave, but the witch literally stood in front of the door and wouldn't let me. The man appeared at the doorstep. She told him he should take me for a ride somewhere in his car at the weekend and asked him if he had time - he said well yes. Then she asked me if I wanted to go and I felt so scared by that time - but I managed to say I'll think about it. Well, after this happened, I was mortified and I ended up ending everything with her.

This scared me so much, Charlie. I don't tell people about it anymore, but sometimes I see an old woman outside who faintly resembles her and get a shiver of dread up my spine. Sometimes the memories of her just come to me as flashbacks and I feel dirty. I felt dirty after this happened to be honest, even though nothing really happened to me. I guess I felt strangely exploited and objectified. I came to her for help but she did this thing...for what? God knows.

On another note, lately I am obsessing over a certain anime character and its weirdly healing me even though I am still feeling very bad. He is not a good person, but I relate to him a lot for some reason.

I also write a lot, Charlie, my stories are probably the only thing that genuinely makes me happy to be myself. I also try to draw when I can.

Well, this is all the brain vomit I can think of for today.

Thank you for listening.

-mv

[trappedbeautyunleashed]

I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore and I’m scared I’ll never find her… I’ve been in such a bad mental space that I can’t even explain it, it’s so exhausting just to wake up and go through the days motions but I'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. The truth is that I get frustrated with myself about it again and again but i can’t fix it ….I take meds but I’m still like this still? Again? It's not that I feel weak, precisely. It's just this sense almost like - I've already been pushing against this Demon for years now, shouldn't I have gained more ground? I get frustrated because I'm sick of picking up the loose ends and I get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - I lose myself in a matter of months and spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. I stop taking care of myself and therapy gets harder to the point I want to avoid it and I let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off.somehow I start both sleeping too much and not enough. I get panic-attacks just from simple tasks …just the other day I was having one and literally bawling in my car in the parking lot of DG pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when I'm better, I'm embarrassed because how could I let it get that far?!?It feels like I already have done this so many times. Isn't there a way out of it? Isn't there a point where I've just... finally won? that it never happens again, that I just get to be done? maybe this is weakness that I often feel but comes to a point where I am used to it so I forget exactly how hard it gets. Do you even know how many times I’ve laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and try to drown out the thoughts with music as I lay there crying out to God- I can't anymore. I just can't. Im not even really upset just broken and lost…”It's okay” I hear but in that moment all I feel is that I’ve been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful until the darkness took over .... I'm just... done. Do you know how many times I wake up and I say -I can't and put my feet on the floor and said I can't, I don't want to and literally forced myself to get up and take a shower, feed and dress my kid but it’s just to much work to make my own so I just don’t won’t eat that day. I put a nice playlist on and try to dance it out but I really can't and it sucks because then the thoughts start suffocating me there is no end to this and I go to my appointment and I called a friend just to get no answer,I made myself coffee even if everything tasted like ashes and decided that I really should wait for the new album from that artist I love and i thought I can't, it's not worth it and then I washed my hands and dye my hair,drank more water and wrote some gibberish,signed up for some fancy Mom group that I’ll never really attend because by the time it comes around my mind and body say I just can't, i try to fight back like I’m at war…I can't, I won't do this again, and I paid my rent but haven’t vacuumed or sweapt all week but still made myself eat something fresh and healthy even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of carrots just because they looked delicious and do you know how often I closed my eyes and thought this is it I really fucking can't anymore seriously something has to give and I have nothing left that this “illness” can take but then I force my eyes closed till I finally drift to sleep and morning comes and I wake up and realize I survived another day anyway.

#keepgoing #mystoryisntoveryet #mentalhealthisreal #dontsufferinsilence