#tw: parental death mention

[thatsohkai]

lost // with: @offleurs tw: parental death mention, grief mention

when he'd got the call, it seemed like it all went too fast. the officer was stern, gave him clear instructions on how he had to come identify her, that they'd preferred in person etc. as if it was a business transaction. and he just nodded, gave short and masculine answers as he tried to process what he was hearing. he wasn't surprised, this didn't come out of left field, but he didn't know how to feel. it was relief, but it was also remorse, like he'd missed the perfect opportunity to do something and now he'd never get the chance.

han had told him he could use the key whenever he wanted, but it was three in the morning, the rain was pelting the windshield of the car and he hardly doubted they wanted some soaking wet person just opening their door. so when he pulled up to their shared home he just stood their a moment. he hadn't noticed his hands were trembling, that explained the random jerks he had to pull to stay on the road, and the reason why it took every ounce of strength to press their doorbell and heavily knock on the door. he didn't know why his face burned, or why he couldn't distinguished whether the wetness of his face was created by the droplets on his face or the emotion he couldn't quite figure out, but he just needed seonwha to answer the door.

[ciderjacks]

dad issues

+

(I think they were all fundamentally affected by what they saw and just collectively decided not to share the upsetting details)

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[furiousgoldfish]

I have an update about this situation, which if you didn't read it, was about me finding out that my parents are searching for me, going door to door and asking people on the street if they know me, even asking with my fake name. They found someone who did know me, and they chatted, and this person later called me and told me what had happened, to which I freaked out, asked them not to share any details about me, and explained that I had ran away due to violence and that I'm terrified of these people.

Now knowing that my parents are out there looking for me, I spent the next few weeks locked in, afraid to go out, only going to work and back, and sometimes disguised so I wouldn't be recognized. I didn't run into anyone on the street, nobody came to my door, I didn't get any other phone calls, so I eventually relaxed and decided that it was okay to be outside, even if they are looking, unless they find me directly where I live, I could easily escape on bike, and they wouldn't know where I went.

The other day I got the phone call from the person who talked to my parents, and they asked me to come over, to be gifted some extra clothing. I was scared, worried that it was a trap, that my parents somehow got this person to cooperate and to bring me to them, but I decided to be brave and go anyway, since the chance of this was very low, and on the phone they reassured me that I could forget that last situation. Still, when I got there I startedly looked around to see if anyone was in there, but it was all empty.

I got some extra details of what happened; it was my mother and a friend looking for me, my father was not present. This person admitted to actually knowing me, and where I live, so my parents know someone who is in contact with me right now. However the person didn't share my address with them, which is why I was still safe.

Then the person revealed they actually got a call from my mother later that day, and they had an argument over the phone. The person repeated what I had told them – that I ran because of violence, because I was forced to work to deserve to eat and sleep there, because of death threats, torture, neglect, and my mother responded angrily 'You don't know what kind of trouble they were causing me!'. Then my mother still tried to convince this person that she cares about me and is worried about me, but the person rebutted with 'you should have cared when they were younger', and when my mother wouldn't stop asking for information, the person said that if she calls again, the police will be called and hung up.

Now this was very interesting to me, firstly my mother getting a police threat upon trying to find me, that is extremely good, satisfying, reassuring, positive, made me so happy. I was in a good mood for the rest of the day just thinking about what kind of reality-check that must have been, to have other people threaten with police and stand in their way of getting to me. I feel it was the first time someone actively protected me and it feels like I've been waiting my whole life for that to happen, and I never thought it would.

Second thing is her 'you don't know what kind of trouble they were causing', because she wasn't even denying the accusations of violence and torture! She blatantly did admit that yes, I had to work to deserve to live as a child, I was beaten, neglected, I was threatened death, I was kept in sub-human conditions, but she just felt it was justified! Because I was 'causing trouble', which is a lie, I did everything she asked me when I was a kid. It's like she still thinks me standing up to her violent abusive husband was 'me causing trouble' excuse me why did you marry that thing, and then never stood up to it? I had more backbone as a child than she has as an adult and this was 'me causing trouble'. I stood up to him because it was the right thing to do, because he was attacking me and my siblings, what do you mean I was causing trouble defending rest of the family from violence and absorbing it so the rest of you wouldn't have to. Ungrateful lying coward.

And also her saying I was the awful troublemaker doesn't check out with the rest of her story; if I was such a menace why is she out there looking for me? Why is she not blessed that I am gone and she can finally enjoy your life? Would you actively seek out someone you have to control with death threats from how much trouble they're causing to you? The lie is falling apart.

This has me very calmed down and grateful that not all people are cowards and unwilling to stand up to abusers. I've never seen this before, in my experience, people were always ready to bow down to my parents and see me as an ungrateful horrid creature who needs to be put into their place. This person has known me enough to see that I'm honest, fair, hardworking, kind, accommodating, they even told me that they can see there's nothing twisted about me. They understood that my situation is one of a struggle and that I have to work hard to survive, and often expressed that I struggle too much compared to others. And this isn't someone I'm on constant contact with, we talk once a year. I was surprised they picked up on this much.

I'm feeling better about the situation now I understand I was defended, I'm not that afraid anymore. I did get upset that my mother is trying to convince people that I was just so bad I deserved all, but at least not everyone believes it. I mean, it's ridiculous for anyone to believe a child could possibly deserve this, but I know a lot of people who do believe that. I thought everyone would side with my parents forever. Feeling better knowing there's one person who sided with me, when it was crucial for my safety.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I bought a house, there was a boy inside and was still preparing his things to get out because his parents died, and I was in the middle of moving to that house when it happened.

[comic-art-showcase]

Batman by Alvaro Martínez Bueno

[quirkle2]

little things about the zombie au that make me sad

the two guns ritsu owns are more dangerous than they normally would be on account of the fact that he does not know how to properly handle either of them. he doesn't know how to hold a shotgun, and he's very bad at trigger discipline. the first time he fires that shotgun he probably gets his ass knocked back by the recoil, and depending on how he holds it, it could probably hurt him or twist something (reminder that he is both small and very light). it's a miracle the kid doesn't shoot himself or mob Or tome accidentally, but he's doing his best with the knowledge he has

during the journey, ritsu had 2 whole years to mourn their parents—mob, however, was effectively put into a time capsule due to the infection and therefore when he wakes up after the cure, he's rushed right back into that new, fresh grief and trauma of witnessing his parents die

buried beneath all the dirty and bloody supplies ritsu carries in his bag is an old, dead nintendo DS he'd packed for a sleepover before the apocalypse started. it screams 13 year old in a nightmare

at some point in the story when ritsu is somehow finally made aware of the exact date, he realizes that he missed mob's birthday, and that his brother is now 15. he is quiet and distant for the rest of the evening

ritsu loots the bodies of humans he's shot for ammo, because ammo is a currency at this point. settlements will do basically anything for more ammo, so ritsu gets a nice haul when he waltzes in there with a bag full of bullets he can't use. he hates doing this for two reasons: 1) looting dead bodies was not made for 13 year olds or their fragile mental health, and 2) ritsu is basically handing the patrols more opportunities to kill innocent zombies. he's backed into a corner—ammo is the most valuable thing he has on his person, and he doesn't need it, but he Does desperately need food, so he trades off that ammo box with starving, unsteady hands and exchanges it for a meal so he and his brother can survive one more night

horrid thing abt That ^ is that after a while of doing this, ritsu becomes quite desensitized to the concept. at one point, he shoots a man in self-defense and when he's looting the corpse, he realizes this guy has a Lot of ammo on him—enough to trade for several meals, probably. ritsu has this very fleeting thought of "wow im kinda glad i kil—" before he stops in silent horror of what just came across his mind and how natural it had felt.

[hussyknee]

Narmada and her sister Sharika are the daughters of prominent Tamil feminist and human rights activist Rajini Thiranagama, who was murdered when they were children. Every time they speak of her I move away from grief that her life was so brutally cut short, to joy that she spent those years living a life more full of light and love than many can fit into a hundred. Nothing can compare to the legacy of being remembered this way by your children.

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 7 - "What happened?"

| Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

Characters: Lawrence, Marshall

For once, I decided to make Lawrence the super emotionally vulnerable one lol.

CW: Parental whumper, stockholm syndrome, nightmares, death (in nightmare), yandere whumper

...

Lawrence woke up with a jolt. He'd been in the middle of a nightmare, but then realized his blankets were tossed onto the floor. His hands were shaking as he rubbed his eyes, pushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face.

He clutched his own beating heart and tried to slow his breaths, which turned to pants as the anxiety gripped his lungs.

It took a few minutes for him to finally calm down. He ran his fingers over his wet cheeks. It had been a while since he had such an awful dream.

He didn't even remember what it was about until he thought of Marshall.

Those green eyes that normally shone so bright were dull in his hellscape of a dream. The light in them was snuffed out, and Lawrence screamed so loud in his dream, his throat felt sore in real life. He scrambled out of bed and hurried into Marshall's bedroom, slamming open the door.

He was expecting to see his boy there, sleeping as restlessly as he usually did, but his bed was empty.

Lawrence froze for just a moment, and then felt back on the verge of a panic attack.

"MARSHALL?!" he cried, racing out of the room and stumbling down the hall so fast he nearly slipped and fell. There was no way, he wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone. His nightmare wasn't reality.

He frantically opened the doors, ignoring how loud they slammed into the walls. It didn't matter to him in this moment.

He continued screaming his name, but was interrupted by the sound of the toilet flushing and a door opening. He let out a strangled sound and bolted for the bathroom.

Marshall emerged, rubbing his eyes blearily.

He was just as Lawrence had left him hours earlier: in a loose pajama shirt and sweats, with his thick brown hair tangled from sleep.

Lawrence ignored the puzzled look on Marshall's face as he tackled him into a hug, letting out a choked sob. Marshall tensed, but relaxed in the embrace, patting his back awkwardly. He let Lawrence fuss over him, looking him over for injuries.

"What happened? Am I in trouble? I was just using the bathroom," Marshall anxiously explained. His eyebrows shot up. "Woah, are you crying?"

Lawrence sniffled and pulled away, pressing his palms against Marshall's shoulders. "You're okay. You're okay," he repeated. Marshall was sure he had completely lost his mind. He ran his fingers through Marshall's hair. "God, don't scare me like that ever again, do you hear me? Please, please, never do that again."

"Uhh, okay... sorry." Marshall learnt the best way to avoid getting scolded or worse was to just go along with it. Even if he had no clue what he did. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Yeah... wanna sit on the couch, watch a movie?"

"It's two in the morning."

Lawrence put his arm over his shoulder and led him out of the bathroom. "So? We can make hot cocoa, you love that stuff. And what ever movie you want!" Marshall looked hesitant. "Please, kiddo? I don't want to be alone right now. We can sleep in extra late tomorrow, and I can even bake you those madeleines. And I can even make--"

"Okay, okay! No need to bribe me." Marshall gave him a lopsided smile.

Lawrence returned the smile. He had been so terrified to go to sleep ever again after that. The thought of losing Marshall drove him mad. He couldn't stand the thought of losing his child to anything.

They settled on the couch with their cups of hot cocoa, a warm blanket, and one of Marshall's favorite movies.

Marshall hated to admit it, but he was genuinely worried over his captor. He scooted closer, to lean his head on his shoulder. "Do you wanna talk about it? The nightmare?"

The blond turned his head towards him. He pondered it for a moment. "It was about you." His grip on the mug tightened. "You don't need to hear about it, Marshie. I don't wanna traumatize you."

Marshall resisted the urge to tell him he didn't do a good job at that. "No, I want to. If, um, you're willing to tell me."

"I..." Lawrence trailed off. Marshall didn't know if it was a good idea to press him further or not, but Lawrence then went on, "I don't know the details, but you were hurt. You were crying, and there was a lot of blood. And I couldn't do anything to help you. I just had to watch you--" His voice cracked and he cut himself off. Marshall's eyebrows knitted together. "But then I woke up and you weren't in your room, and I thought maybe that was it, that it had all happened in real life."

"Oh." Marshall stared at the TV screen, not knowing where else to look. It hurt to look at the pain in Lawrence's eyes.

Lawrence wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be listening to this, I'm supposed to be the one comforting you." He laughed, but it came out as more of a strangled sob.

Marshall didn't know what to do. He put his mug down on the coffee table and turned so he could hug him properly, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"I'm okay. See? I'm here with you. Nothing's gonna happen to me. Not if you're watching over me," he reassured. He cringed internally at the words, but he knew that would make Lawrence feel better. And that's what he needed.

"Oh, Marshall." Lawrence embraced him back. He pressed his lips against his temple. "I would never let anyone hurt you. You know that, right? You know how much I love you, don't you?"

He swallowed nervously. "Yeah, I do."

"You're all I have," he murmured. His nails dug into the back of Marshall's neck. "I'm never, ever, going to lose you. You belong here. Right here, in my arms, where you're safe." Lawrence's possessive behavior was no longer scary, it was just plain annoying. It made Marshall's stomach churn. "Where I can protect you. From the bad people out there."

Marshall didn't view Lawrence as a bad person, but misunderstood. He was delusional.

Marshall knew he could be cruel and controlling, but he wasn't some villain from a superhero movie. He was a man with problems and needs, like everyone else.

He didn't believe he had stockholm syndrome... he was just an empathetic person. That's what he kept telling himself.

Lawrence's grip tightened. "You know that, right? And--and if anyone tried to hurt you, I'd kill them. I would. I'd do anything to protect you."

"Yeah, I know. But no one is coming after me, and if they did, then you'd be there to keep me safe." Marshall yawned. He hoped Lawrence would get the hint, and thankfully, he did.

He released Marshall from the crushing hug and sat back again. "Right. I would. Don't forget that. Ever."

[uncanny-tranny]

To parents of trans kids who are scared of their kids facing transphobia:

Don't force your child out of being trans. Don't force them to detransition. This is not how your child from facing transphobia. Realistically, you are pushing them toward more dangerous situations because they will be desperate to find acceptance from anywhere they can.

I can't imagine how it feels to be a parent and worry about your child's safety or life because they are trans in this world. You have my full sympathy. While I can't speak from the experiences of a parent, I can speak from the experiences of a trans person who was once a child and why the above line of thinking is dangerous.

When I came out as trans, there was a huge proportion of time where my dad was very resistant to my transness. I couldn't understand why, but I believe part of why he was so resistant was because he was afraid somebody would assault or kill me because I am trans. That is a huge burden for him to think about. However, he went about this (valid) fear in a very destructive way.

He threatened my transition, he threatened to force me to detransition, and he threatened a lot of things. I retreated away from him, I couldn't talk to him about anything. I felt confined, unaccepted. I am lucky my friends and school were accepting, because I was vulnerable. Others haven't been lucky - so many people in that position have been taken advantage of by truly evil people.

You might think that you are protecting your child by making them appear cis, but that isn't how that plays out. Your child won't feel accepted, and chances are that if something horrific happened to them, gd-forbid, they won't come to you about that. This isn't protection, and I am sorry to say that. I am sorry that this isn't simple.

Here is how you can protect your trans child:

Make it clear you support them

Teach them self-respect, and how to listen to their gut feeling

Teach them appropriate versus inappropriate ways people can interact with them. Make sure they understand what harassment and abuse can look like - verbal, physical, and sexual

If you are still concerned for their physical safety, sign them up for self-defense classes

Leave the floor open for them to express how they are feeling and what they are thinking. Be non-judgmental when they are upset or worried

Please remember that trans people are painfully aware of the consequences of being trans in a transphobic world. Hell, one of the first trans people I learned about as a kid was killed as a result of a hate crime. We are aware of the world we live in. We have to live with that knowledge, and that is why it is imperative that you allow your trans child to express who they are and how they feel. You very well could save them by doing so.

We protect trans youth by empowering trans youth.

[applesaucesims]

As the party went on, and Maureen had volunteered to take her grandson to have his nap, Emma followed her upstairs to have a private conversation. She had noticed her mother was acting quite absent all day, so she wanted to make sure that everything was alright.

But the reason behind her mother's sadness was bigger than Emma had expected. Maureen's best friend, Leah, had sadly passed away just the night before. She had been living alone ever since her lover, Edward's cousin, Artemisia's death, and had already lived much longer than anyone had expected. Because of this, Maureen had seen it coming, but it still hit her hard enough that she finally let out some tears as her daughter took her into her arms.

[TRANSCRIPT]

Emma: "Mum?"

Maureen: "Hello, sweetheart."

Emma: "How are you? You seemed unusually quiet tonight."

Maureen: "I know, I'm sorry, Emma. I didn't want it to ruin your birthday."

Emma: "What is it?"

Maureen: "It's your auntie Leah."

Emma: "Oh, no, Mum..."

Maureen: "You know, she's like my best friend. Well, she was. She... she passed away last night."

Emma: "Gosh, I'm so sorry, Mum! Don't you worry about the party. If you need anything, please let me know."

Maureen: "Oh, I have your father for that, but thank you, sweetheart."

[yurious-george]

4'33'', by John Cage, is commonly remembered as 4 and a half minutes of silence. But contrary to popular belief, the song is not actually meant to be the sound of silence, but the sound of quiet. Ambient noises contribute to - and consist of - the performance. True silence does not exist. If one tilts their head right, the whole world sings. and, with that said, a playlist.

yeah, this one's a doozy. hi, cubewatermelon and co. miss me?

rhetorical question. don't answer that.

A few nitty-gritty things out of the way, first. this is specifically intended for the 2018 mod team for the sleepless domain fans discord server, primarily cubewatermelon/mary cagle. Folks who knew me are welcome to look on, but I'm not going to do much to catch people up to speed. hi, everyone! hope you're well!

I also might be a bit disjointed or biased in my recollection. For reasons that will be made clear extremely soon, I can't put my childhood on a linear timeline. I can only express myself, and hope I don't mess it up horribly this time.

Noooowww to the big stuff. re: stalking; i genuinely didn't mean to stalk anyone, and when they told me to back off, i backed off. I am not willing to discuss this further. not being able to conceptualize other people's emotions or the consequences of my actions has caused some problems for me

that's an autism thing btw. im autistic i dont think i told anyone that

And now, the special guest you've all been waiting for: a big round of applause for the elephant in the room! In accordance with the WMA Declaration of Tokyo, the deliberate overprescription of psychotropic medication is a form of pharmacological torture. Most victims of pharmacological torture and experimentation are children, because it is nigh-impossible to sue for brain damage when there is no fully-formed adult brain for comparison prior to the abuse.

Torture is a strong word, but I don't have another word to use. psychiatric abuse usually describes mistreatment in psychiatric wards; pharmacological abuse describes a patient who takes advantage of a prescription; medical abuse is when a doctor (usually physically) abuses their patient. Being able to understand what happened to you is a form of agency, and I don't even have the words. I identify as a torture victim; this may change.

This high dose was precedented and legal, but the vaginal stretching of intersex infants is also legal. much involuntary psychiatric & psychotropic treatment (such as restraints and solitary confinement) are legal, and child marriage is legal. abuse is not abnormal: it is profoundly normal. Because something is normal, legal, and precedented does not prevent it from being torture.

and when your mother hands you a poison apple and says "here, eat this; it will be good for you; i hope someday you'll forgive me" you have to eat it, because you are eight years old and you don't get to argue with your mother. despite all this, I don't blame my aunt for refilling the high dose. when I said the dose was hurting me, she listened. (thank you, auntie. i wouldn't have gotten out without you.)

And this brings us to you. oh, you four. (five? i forget myself!)

I'd like to establish some context. I was used to things getting taken from me. friend groups in particular: I didn't expect to keep any friends, because I constantly expected to have to pack up and move on. I moved a lot in my childhood, and in Africa, i was constantly told that at some undetermined point in the near future, i'd have to go back to the states. living with my aunt was a temporary thing, i was expected to eventually move back in with my parents at some undetermined point in the future. I relied heavily on online friends because they were people I could have anywhere, so online communities were my only lifeline - not to mention, i was basically in solitary confinement while in Kenya.

Most of all, I was terrified of my mental health/actions being exposed, examined, found lacking, and ultimately excluded. (this is why i was so afraid of psychiatric wards.) When you decided something had to be done about me - cutting me off from the server so i had to speak with you - It was either comply with your demands to communicate (which I could not, and did not understand why) or lose the community. I was so, so afraid of you i wanted to die when you all confronted me, and of course i couldn't say that, because only manipulative people would say "your attempt to solve this problem makes me want to seriously hurt myself."

But then I got called manipulative anyway <3 yay <3

Seriously: I wasn't trying to manipulate anyone, and i have no idea how you can manipulate someone without intention. (ah, that felt good to say!) Between medication spellbinding, alexithymia, and prior abuse, all my thoughts were so disordered i genuinely couldn't explain myself most of the time. Looking back, I have no childhood memory where I was fully lucid. I leaned into a manic persona because it was the only way I had any agency at all. I was something beyond both reason and self-recognition, and I willingly tried to brute-force my way through an extreme trauma response to please you. And you still hit me with my worst nightmare. that's why i was mad at you lol

I was so, so afraid, all the time, and I didn't even have the tools to understand I was afraid. How could someone as confident and impulsive as me be so fearful all the time? Was that manic persona freedom? Or was it a longer leash?

(Forgive my impulse toward rhetoric. I shouldn't ask questions you can't answer.)

I also couldn't say how badly i was hurting, because that would be venting, but you also accused me of venting when I was just talking about my day? or what was on my mind? I didn't understand that very well. autism moment, don't bother explaining it now. I also couldn't burden people with my actual mental health problems, because making strangers deal with that would be toxic! I resent you for setting up a system where it seemed safest not to speak and then punishing me for my inability to communicate. I resent every system that set me up for failure and punished me for failing, including yours.

And yet - I know that was not your intent! I can see in retrospect how hard you tried to be kind using the tools you had. The people with power over me, who genuinely did not want to do me harm and gave me multiple second chances, still upheld and facilitated the systems that tortured me; a miniature parody of the psychiatric system. (talk therapy and communication are useless if you struggle with self-awareness.) The same is true for the source: No person in my psychiatric treatment wanted me to suffer, and yet, here I am: a torture victim without a torturer. (except my parents, sort of.)

The logical conclusion, then: the system only intends to heal those who are already compliant, or prioritize compliance. The rest of us are treated to induce compliance, and if we still cannot, we are sequestered away. My medicine made me sick, and my prescribers made money off of keeping me sick - off of my torture. This is not a conspiracy: it is my lived experience.

However, even if i could communicate perfectly, we still would have had massive communication issues. Like - you know that one page where ben and steffi talk about dating, and ben says he thought steffi was gay? and steffi gets super defensive and it escalates into a screaming fight? I found that offensive, because a character getting that offput by the concept of not liking men (or a man) is kind of lesbophobic! But I understood that it would be a pain to redraw/write the page so they they fight about something else, don't fight, or some other solution, so i didn't need it to be fixed - just wanted to point out that was a reasonable interpretation, and one to be aware of in the future. but somehow my concerns got interpreted as a phrasing issue…? like, Ms. Cagle rewrote the page to say "weren't into guys" instead of "gay"..? You were very polite about it, Ms! But I found this interaction so baffling I didn't even try to correct it. that… wasn't what i said…

frankly we should bring back mildly homophobic steffi. twas narratively appropriate (<- different essay for a different time)

but yeah the whole communication operation was doomed from the start. rip!

The issue was always my inability to communicate, but my meds made it nigh-impossible to understand what I was feeling, and when I did, expressing myself could get me institutionalized. My suffering was inevitable but always, somehow, my fault. Awesome! *disintegrates into a pile of sand*

I cannot deny I was a girl like a box of matches waiting to be struck. You had no choice but to do as you did. But is it really what you ought to have done? (On this, I have no answer. I hope you have one that satisfies you.)

(that was genuine, by the by. i've spent a lot of time pondering this mess, and I still haven't found the "right" answer. I don't think there is one - though action or inaction, there is no version of this story where I don't suffer. I can only hope it was worth it. wait, hold on *adds the omelas child to my Kin List*)

Nor can I deny making my previous open letter in a small attempt to 'get back' at you - i'm not above that. lord knows i'm not innocent. but i really was trying to channel that rage into something productive. unfortunately i was doomed to fail because i didn't know what i meant. if you showed me that letter now, you'd hear a lot of "what? I don't know why I said that" "i have no idea why i would complain about something so minor" etc. You can disregard all that. This is what I was trying to say. the obsession, the trauma, the projection: all of it. So much of my obsession was talking around an issue i couldn't identify.

(meguka image) I know now

I knew I would be traumatized by this whole situation. I saw it coming and i could do nothing to stop it. But Gear was crucial to deciphering all this - in fact, suddenly thinking about her last year prompted me to really dissect my medical situation and realize i was tortured. I couldn't have done it without her. cassie & maggie, against the world.

Gear scans surprisingly well as a victim of long-term torture, actually. I don't think you meant to do that but good job!

speaking of her - i still don't think she's consistently suicidal. she's a real cockroach of a character, and I love her for it! But sometimes, i want to die and i want to live mean the same thing, because they both mean i need to get out of here. Imo, her thought processes and desires frequently contradict themselves, like mine did. and making your favs kill themselves in increasingly gruesome ways is really fun catharsis!

But please don't take this to mean I consider myself - or Gear - blameless. I love her because she's not blameless, because she's cruel for fun, because she'd rather be wicked than helpless. Like knows like. What I mean to say is, as of 2018, there is a black space between little Margret and Gear, and I saw all the signs of something very, very bad happening in that space. I know because I shared that space. what I mean to say is, teenage girls don't go out of their minds over nothing. Everything I made here is just an expression of what I heard in the narrative's silences.

and thus my biggest apprehension around revisiting the comic. knowing the author and I have such fundamentally different experiences with mental health - what if the signs of torture i picked up on weren't intended, or i completely made them up? what if, in the parts i haven't read yet, there's information that uproots my entire interpretation, or berates her for refusing mental health services that hurt me profoundly? how do you reconcile that a character so crucial to deciphering yourself may not be anything like you at all? I Don't Know. Shitpost, probably

You're welcome to share those shitposts and whatnot by the way. Creating this let me put down years of hurt, and i hope it relieves you, too. I don't need to go back on the server, or forgiveness, or anything besides understanding. consider this a peace offering. the terms are yours.

Despite writing nearly 10k words, I still probably missed something or was callous or whatever. Self-expression and self-understanding are… new to me. My apology may be understated, but please take it as I meant it, with utmost sincerity. My askbox is open, and I'm more than happy to discuss antipsych resources, KB, What The Hell Is Wrong With Gear, artistic choices made in this comic, etc. I'm even down to reconnect on discord! Maybe. Uh, I'm conflicted. I reserve my right to not want to talk, be slow in responding, and so on, as should you. we've no obligations and all the time in the world. Let neither of us hurt ourselves in meeting because it's the "right" thing to do. I'm not blaming anyone or trying to start drama. If it would give you the most peace of mind to completely ignore this, please do so.

or, translated: as of right now, I'm not ready for any information about KB after steffi reunites with her dad, or difficult emotional reunions. I would really like to hear from everyone, and I'd appreciate casual well-wishes. I don't want things to be the same, I want them to be peaceful. Baby steps, cassie, baby steps. (very large and fearful prey animal tries not to run into oncoming traffic)

mostly, making this was for me. Perhaps I've said too much, but after spending so long unable to express myself freely, my art was cathartic and necessary. I'm no one's martyr or innocent, I'm just a torture victim trying to make sense of it all. I want to articulate some thoughts I couldn't figure out how to say before and make some silly things that make people laugh. Most of all, I'm happy in ways I never thought I could be, and I would like to share that joy with old acquaintances and other fans of a story I adored.

What I mean to say is: The train's about to leave the station, and there's an empty seat beside me. The train will still leave whether or not you board; but I would be honored not to go it alone!

Thank you to everyone who stuck by me even after the drama. Ethel, Felipe, Chris - even though we've fallen out of contact, your kindness and patience meant more than i can say. special thank you to @stars-in-a-jam-jar, the first person i confessed everything to after the smoke cleared, and someone i consider myself close with no matter how long we fall out of contact. My close online friends, @shafpanda, @theoandmoon, @dvanaestmrva, my honorary cousin @my-name-is-jimmy, and everyone else I confided in about my torture. and, of course, my partners @transloo and @teenyjellyfishy, and my little sibling, @aroacenezhaanddainsleif, the three people I love most in the world. Thank you, all. it is an honor to love you, and be loved by you.

[stiffyck]

Hey stiff I feel like it’s been too long since ppl brainrotted about tcd scar.. he is so messed up and Perfectly Fine. So normal. He does not think about the horrors he went through as a kid all by himself nope definitely not. Definetly doesn’t get painfully reminded about the enormous gap of his life full of nothing but loneliness and death, where everyone else around him talks about families and childhood and friends and memories and happiness….. yikes.

SJVKEKGMS OUGH YEA YES DIVISKGKW

Scar hearing people talk about their families and all the stuff they did when they were kids and he's just. He never had that.

He hear people talk about childhood friends and playing outside and building their first builds while Scar thinks of little him, holding his badly stitched together cat pushie close to his chest while hiding in a corner with his gun, trying not to cry as the zombies outside scream and bang on the barraged doors and windows.

Scar hears others talking about their birthday parties and how much fun they had, what beautiful cakes they had and how their friends came over for parties and he remembers him sitting on a broken bed, softly singing happy birthday to his plushie.

He doesn't remember his own birthday, but it's the least he can do. Jellie deserves something nice..

Scar hears the others talking about their families and he can't help but remember his own parents chasing him down, trying to catch him just so they can rip him apart.

Uh. I should sleep it's 2 am but yea anon I agree. Tcd scar...

[cult-of-the-eye]

I am an A24 movie director's wet fucking dream. Pick any moment of my life and you can already see the film unfold - insecure south asian daughter deals with the mortality of her mother. Critics give it 5 fucking stars and immediately start cumming at the poignant scene where I hold my mum's hand in the hospital room before she dies. People from all around settle into the stained seats to see it, they don't care about the bodily fluids, neither my tears that I hold back in my bed years later nor the remnants of torture porn left there by people who don't know better. Years later, when the film is taken in by a group of white film students, I brush the popcorn off the seats in the old theatre and sit down. My life was built brick by brick for someone other than the person who was building it. I carry on the legacy, in the bright lights, watching people praise the cinematography and acting of that poignant scene, watching critics put the film on at home, on the sofa with their hands stuffed down their pants, watching my mum die, over and over until the critics find it too morbid to ever watch again.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello dear! It's been a long time :)

I've read some of your Mandela Catalog fanfics and they are amazing!

I would like to make a request, how about the Reader (who was a friend of the Murray's and took care of Adam after the divorce as Lynn didn't have much time to spend with him) take custody of him after his parents died?

Adam at least grew up with someone :) and the Reader always sang songs when he got sad about his parents...

But the events are the same as the Mandela Catalog (Volume 1 and 2 etc.)

In the meantime, the Reader ends up dying for an Alternative, after months of the Reader's death, the events of volume 2 happen and then the events of Mandela Catalyst happen.

Basically, Thatcher finds Adam singing one of the songs that the Reader sang to him to calm him down, but since it's not the Reader singing...he can't calm down at all .

Just Angst in general...sorry :)

Oh boy this one hurt a LOT to write. Strap in and be ready for (several) different timeskips (and a whole lot of angst)

.........

--September 1992--

"Hey, [y/n]. I'm so sorry to bother you, but-"

"It's okay. What's up? Do you need me to watch him for a bit?"

"...I actually needed to talk to you about something important, but he hasn't stopped crying, and...shit...I-I just need a little bit of help if that's alright. I can't calm him down."

Hearing Lynn's exhausted sigh over the phone, you frowned slightly. It especially pained your heart to hear her son's wailing in the background, yet you realized she called you around this specific hour last time..with the exact same problem.

It was strange, honestly.

You would've thought she'd figured out what was going on with Adam by now.

"Wasn't Jude there earlier? Don't tell me he bailed and that's why he's-"

"No. He actually showed up this time and watched him while I was in a meeting. Everything was fine..a-and Adam didn't make any fuss when he left. But now he just started up the waterworks again and...god, I don't know what to do anymore.."

"Well you tell the little guy to hang tight, okay?" You reassured her as you grabbed your keys, jacket, and shoes. "I'm on my way over."

"Thank you so much, [y/n]..I'm sorry about this-"

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I'll see you in a few."

"Alright, see you soon."

After hanging up the phone, you headed out the door and got into your vehicle, driving to the Murray's residence.

You've been close friends with Jude and Lynn, having supported them through nearly every milestone of their relationship: when they had their son, when they got married, and....when they unfortunately went through a divorce two years later.

To this day, you still weren't sure what caused their relationship to crash and burn. They were highschool sweethearts who hoped to move into the big city and have kids--the kind of dream any couple would wanna live out.

But then they became incredibly stressed over raising just one child alone, and thought rushing into marriage would resolve things quickly.

Instead, it only caused more friction between them.

Regardless, you still wanted to help them out. So you've offered to watch Adam for a few hours while Lynn went to work, or if she just needed to get out of the house and take a breather.

He's a good kid...aside from being either quiet or having huge crying fits with consistent patterns to them. You suspected he saw something scary and violent on television once and hasn't recovered since.

Lynn mentioned a toddler stress assessment he took, showing his scores ranging from low to zero, indicating he didn't respond to the stimuli properly. She would have been more concerned if other children his age didn't share similar results, all apparently due to them being witnesses to a "phenomena".

Whatever it was, it must've been traumatic enough for him to have these meltdowns seemingly out of the blue.

But you always succeeded at calming him down. Lynn mom had yet to see your methods, though she's convinced you're some kind of "miracle worker", doing a better job at parenting than she or Jude could.

Fortunately, she was going to find out today.

You arrived at the house, exchanging sympathetic smiles with the exhausted mother before she led you to Adam's room. There, he was in the corner bawling his eyes out.

"Adam, sweetie? Someone's here to see you." She cooed, but to no avail as he didn't even look up at her. Sighing in defeat, she stepped aside when you reassured her you'll handle it.

"Hey, buddy. It's me again." You spoke softly, kneeling down on the floor in front of Adam. For a moment, he fell silent and glanced up at you, hiccupping on occasion.

But when you opened your arms up to him, he started crying even louder and clung to you tightly. "Oh it's okay, kiddo. Shhh, I'm here." You hushed, holding him as you stood back up. "[Y/n]'s here now."

He could only blubber your name in response, snot and tears dribbling down his face as he nuzzled into your shoulder. You rubbed his back, wishing you could take away whatever made him this upset.

Since that wasn't possible, you did the only thing you could do in that moment.

And that was sing.

More specifically, sing a song you heard on the radio earlier today. It's one of your favorites, which always helps you calm down after a stressful day; surely it'll help Adam in his case, too.

Although your voice was soft and quiet, it managed to reach his ears as you sang to him, and eventually it worked its magic. His sobs died into sniffles, and then sniffles into silence.

You smiled. "Did you like that one? That's one of my favorites."

He nodded, now resting his head on your shoulder and closing his puffy eyes as you kept rubbing his back, humming softly. Before you knew it, he was fast asleep.

"....are you serious? I've tried singing to him and it does nothing!" Lynn whispered, astonished you were able to resolve that in a minute, when usually it took her an hour.

"Sorry, I guess he likes my voice better." You chuckled lightly, before your eyes shifted around the room. "Where do you want him? The crib as usual?"

"...as usual. I know he's supposed to be grown out of it, but he refuses to sleep anywhere else."

"It'll happen eventually, I'm sure." You set Adam down, making sure the pillow was comfortably underneath his head. Then you turned back to Lynn. "So...you wanted to talk about something?"

"It's..on the kitchen table." She muttered, confusing you as she turned and walked out the room.

You followed her to the aforementioned section of the house, noticing documents on the table. One mentioned child custody, which was signed by her and Jude...but also had a third blank line on it as well.

"Jude and I had a long talk, and...we both decided that if, god forbid, anything should happen to us and we can't be here to take care of Adam...we'd make you his legal guardian." She explained. "I know it's a lot to ask of you right now and I doubt we'll even need this, but-"

"I'll sign it."

She blinked. "R-Really? I mean..there's no rush. If you need time to think about it-"

"My mind's been made up. With those broadcasts having everyone on edge, it's better to be safe than sorry. But I hope it won't come to that." You picked up the pen, clicking it as you sat down to read the document. "I just sign here? Do I have to go to the court?"

"No, you can just sign it and I'll bring it to them tomorrow." She swallowed the lump in her throat, choking back tears of relief. "I-I just want Adam to grow up in a better place and..we trust that you can do that should it be necessary."

Nodding in understanding, you signed the paper, slipping it back into the folder before you gave Lynn a hug. "If this helps you guys out, then it's fine with me. Does Adam know?"

"W-We're gonna tell him about it, soon. But..thank you so, so much, [y/n]. This means a lot to us."

"Of course, I'm here for you and him till the very end."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

--One Week Later--

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Lynn? Are you alright? I was driving by and noticed your door was wide open."

"......"

"Lynn? Jude? You guys here?"

"........"

"....Adam?"

"........"

"Anybody home at all? Hello?"

"........."

"C'mon, this isn't.....wha....o-oh my god. LYNN!! No, no, no, no, no!! What the fuck?!! Why would you...y-you....?! Oh Christ, I'm gonna be sick....I need to call 911-"

"[Y/n]? Where's momma...?"

"A-Adam! Don't go in there. Thank god you're okay, but wha...what are you doing out here by yourself??"

"...looking for my new friend."

"Huh? But..sweetheart, there's no one here but us."

"Not even momma?"

"N-No. She's..gone away for a while. And dad, too. But do you remember that talk we had about me looking after you?"

"Mhm."

"Well, that...starts now. I'll be taking care of you for a little while, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good, good..now let's go home."

--January 2002--

It's been 10 years since the worst night of your life, as well as Adam's.

You lost two of your best friends, and he lost his family.

The sight of Lynn's hanging corpse was forever burned into your mind, and you were still unsure of Jude's whereabouts to this very day. He was never found by the police..although you felt like they were too scared to investigate further and give victims like yourself the proper justice.

Nevertheless, you had a promise to keep. And so you've done your best to raise Adam as his legal guardian. Signing those documents all those years ago certainly streamlined the process of you gaining custody over him, and he didn't protest over it.

You never did tell him what actually happened that night. You don't think you'll ever be able to.

All you said was that you found him alone in that house and took him with you, clueless as to where his parents are. It was only partially a lie, yet you still felt guilty.

You tried giving him a normal life away from Mandela County, as it was simply too dangerous to live there. He grew out of the unusual behavioral patterns of his toddler years, thank goodness, and continued being a generally good kid.

In school, he took up a hobby in filmmaking, while also gaining interest in ghost-hunting shows and other subjects related to paranormal activity, including online forums discussing Alternates.

Although concerned about this interest he's been pursuing, you supported his passions.

After turning 14, he reached that "teen angst" state of his life where he was going through lots of changes and constantly flipping moods like a light switch.

And when you picked him up from school today, that bad attitude reared its ugly head for you to see.

He didn't greet you after getting in the car, keeping his headphones on as he stared outside the window, seething red. You did notice a small group of jocks, one of whom seemed to have a nosebleed while the rest scowled at your son, only to see you were staring at them too. They quickly scampered back onto the campus grounds.

But what you didn't notice was Adam rolling down his sleeves to hide his bruised knuckles.

As soon as you both got home, he threw his backpack onto the nearest table and stormed off to his room without speaking a single word to you.

Now any other parent wouldn't have tolerated his disrespect. But rather than chastise him when you knew he was already feeling shitty, you calmly walked towards his bedroom door.

It was partially open, though you gently knocked just to be polite. "Hey, kid..may I come in?"

"....sure. Whatever."

You pushed the door open more, entering to find Adam curled up on his bed, staring down at his music player as he shuffled through some songs. "Glad to see you're using the MP3 I got you for Christmas."

He didn't respond to that, instead burying his face into his knees and keeping his hood drawn over his head.

You sat beside him, knowing that you'd have to choose your next words very carefully from here on out. 'Wish there was some guidebook on caring for a grumpy teenage boy..but I'll have to figure this one out myself..'

"So..what're you listening to?" You asked, hoping to start up some kind of conversation.

"...if you care so much..it's Radiohead." His voice was slightly muffled, but you understood him as your eyes lit up.

"Oh! I love that band."

"You do?"

"Of course! You think I'm too old to enjoy it?" You feigned hurt, although when you heard him sniffle quietly, you sighed and rested a hand on his back. "Look, I noticed those kids staring when I picked you up. They look like the same jerks I used to meet in school. Did...they say anything to you?"

For a few long moments, he was silent, but eventually answered.

"They called me an orphan, so I punched one of them."

Your heart sunk. "Wha--Adam, you gotta be more careful. You could've gotten hurt or expelled-"

"So what? I'm supposed to just take it?" He glared up at you, his eyes red and watery. "I can't defend myself?"

"...that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that there's other ways we can deal with them without violence. But I agree that what they said was wrong." Frowning, you gently brushed his curly bangs to the side. "They shouldn't be using orphan as an insult."

"Yeah. They think both my parents are dead, but they're liars. My mom's still out there, and if she comes back we can prove them wrong."

Ah.

You could feel this familiar conversation starting up again, but this time you weren't sure if Adam was going to be placated by your answer anymore. The more he pressed about it, the more he got suspicious and tired of the same excuses.

"....are we ever gonna go back to Mandela and try to find her, [y/n]?"

You shook your head. "I'm sorry, Adam. But you know we can't. I...have no clue where we'd even start."

"Then why doesn't she try to find us, instead? She must have escaped those things by now..unless she gave up on me."

"Wha--" You blinked, having no idea how he could've drawn that conclusion so quickly. "What made you think-?"

"I-I mean..it makes sense, right? It's been ten damn years and she hasn't tried looking for us once?" He started getting agitated, taking off his headphones as they no longer comforted him. "Maybe she wanted me out of her life for good. I mean...I'm the reason her and dad divorced."

"Adam, their divorce wasn't your fault at all. I knew your mom for a long time, and she loved you a lot-"

"Then why does it feel like she abandoned me?!!" He snapped, throwing his music devices onto the mattress before scowling at you. "Just tell me the truth, [y/n]!! I can take it. If she said I was a burden, then fucking TELL ME!!"

You took your hand off his back the moment he started shouting, feeling yourself tensing up.

The one thing you hoped not to do was make him angry, and yet here he was...lashing out. But you tried not to take it too personally and stayed quiet.

Not long after his explosion, Adam saw the look on your face and instantly felt remorseful for snapping like that. His face began burning with embarrassment as he looked away, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

"..I'm sorry, I...I just-"

"I know you didn't mean it. It's alright." You carefully wrapped your arm around him, bringing him closer to you. "But you were never a burden to her. That's the truth. She loved you and wanted you to have a better life..one that she couldn't provide. I know you don't understand everything right now, but one day it's all gonna make sense. I can promise you that, son."

He sniffled and tucked his face between your neck and shoulder, trying to stifle his sobs as he mumbled about still missing her so badly. You held him even closer, feeling the poor kid shaking in your arms.

Luckily, you knew exactly how to remedy this situation.

"Adam?"

"Y..yeah?"

"...do you want me to sing to you like I did before? I know you got your music player, but..my voice might help you feel a little better."

For a moment he was quiet, but you felt him nod against your neck. You smiled and kissed the top of his hood, before quietly singing one of his favorite songs:

"Such a pretty house, and such a pretty garden. No alarms and no surprises. No alarms and no surprises...."

He closed his eyes as he listened to your soft voice, tears dampening the collar of your shirt. He felt like he did nothing to deserve you or all of this love after the way he acted earlier.

You could've left him alone, or got angry right back at him.

But you didn't.

You never stopped being there for him.

After Adam calmed down a few minutes later, you let him go and saw him wipe at his face with his sleeve. While still embarrassed to be seen like this, he did feel a lot better. "Y-You...still got it." He chuckled. "You ever think about becoming a singer? Like in a band or something?"

"In my dreams, yeah. But I told ya I'm a big Radiohead fan." You smirked.

"Alright, alright..I guess you're not too "old" to like it." He rolled his eyes, but eventually leaned back onto your shoulder, relaxing. "Thanks again, [y/n]. I-I..really needed that."

"Anytime." You gently hugged him to you. "I'm here whenever you need me, son. I promise we'll go back to Mandela when it's safer."

"Together?"

"Together."

--September 2008--

You couldn't believe it.

You couldn't.

Fucking.

Believe it.

Adam went behind your back and did exactly what you told him not to do.

He left for to Mandela County in the middle of the night, taking a stolen car. Although he did leave you a note saying he was going on a "BPS mission" with Jonah and promised to be back in several days, you were still quite infuriated.

Especially since you've been meaning to talk to him about this little "group" of his.

All this time, you thought it was just some afterschool club he attended that helped him make friends and even find a girlfriend. He told you all they did was chat about ghosts and research paranormal stuff and nothing more.

But he's been using it as a cover-up to hunt down the Alternates who ruined so many lives, breaking several laws while doing so.

You only learned about all this through Evelin, who called your cell phone just a few minutes ago. The poor girl was in tears, explaining that she and Adam had a huge fight, and apparently he told her some....very hurtful things.

Things you'd never believe would come out of your son's mouth.

You didn't raise him this way at all.

You raised him to be a better person, not a rebel who thinks he can talk to girls with such disrespect and run away from home.

Why would he do this all of the sudden?

Did he just get too impatient?

Did he not trust you anymore?

What ever happened to the promise that you'll go to Mandela together?

Regardless, you apologized to Evelin for Adam's behavior before hanging up. Then you called his number, and he surprisingly answered within the first ring.

Usually it took three.

"Hey, [y/n]. What's up?"

""What's up?"" You mimicked, already growing annoyed. ""What's up" is that your girlfriend called me and said you insulted her. All because she didn't like these little "ghost hunts" you've been doing??"

"Oh fuck, did she really tell you about all our problems?" He groaned. "Look, I'm not the bad guy here. I swear. We had a petty argument and she freaked out on ME, and then I got a little defensive. That's all."

"...a "little"? You made her cry, Adam. I had to help her calm down before she could even talk to me."

"....well it's not my fault if she's too damn sensitive."

You couldn't believe how heartless he sounded, but you didn't wanna stay on this topic forever.

So you sighed, sitting down on the sofa as you wondered how you can convince him to stop these ridiculous "hunts". "Listen, son. I just think this is consuming your life too much-"

"But this IS my life, [y/n]! Jonah and I have been making some serious bank from this! Believe it or not, paranormal investigating IS a real job-"

"But it's not a safe one." You interrupted. "I know how badly you want closure on your mother, but those things won't give you any answers. They're only going to kill you if-"

"I stared at one dead in the face and it didn't attack me."

You froze, feeling your heart drop into your stomach. "...what?"

"Yeah! I found out I'm sorta "immune" to M.A.D or whatever, and I have footage of it!" He bragged. "It didn't hurt me at all. We had a pretty funny staring contest. I can send you proof of it so you don't have to worry about me."

"....I don't want "proof", Adam. I want you to come home."

"....not until I find out the truth for myself." Suddenly his tone turned spiteful. "Unless you know something that I don't."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not a dumb kid anymore, [y/n]. If there's something YOU knew about that night that you didn't wanna tell me before...now's the time."

For a few long moments, you were silent as you thought over his words, although his snarky response made your blood boil even more.

At this point you were fed up you were with him sneaking behind your back like this and breaking his promise. You only sheltered the truth of that night from him for this long because you knew how deeply it would hurt him.

But now he was practically goading you into laying it all out.

Maybe that's what you should do. Just to finally put this to rest and make him give up on these stupid "investigations". He was searching for someone who wasn't even alive anymore.

He may hate you, but if this is what he wanted...it's what he'll get.

"I'm sorry, Adam. But-"

All of the sudden, a loud sound akin to static noise crackled right into your eardrum, causing you to flinch and hold the phone far away from you.

Only then did you notice an unknown caller ID had popped up, the ringtone playing normally. You declined it and tried calling Adam back, but the same mysterious number showed up again before you could even dial anything.

You had no choice but to answer the stranger.

"Hello? Yes?"

"This is no longer your place to spill secrets, I'm afraid." A male's voice, staticky and coarse, droned in your ear. "Only I will reveal everything to our prophet soon enough."

"....your prophet? Who the hell is this?" Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I think you got the wrong number. I don't know any "prophet". Goodbye."

Hanging up, you hoped to put an end to that discussion and reach out to Adam once more-

"Of course you do, [y/n]. He's the son you've taken under your wing."

Every muscle in your body tensed.

The same voice was now inside your own home.

Your eyes searched the living room until you noticed the TV flickering to life, the screen displaying a hooded man with a face that looked as if it were melting.

"How do you know about him?" You scowled. "Don't tell me...you're the creep who kidnapped all those kids back in-"

"You played right into our hands. You've passed our test. I must say you've raised him well..keeping him in the dark about his truth." The Intruder taunted. "But it's time you open your eyes and recognize the favor you've done for us."

"...what favor? What does any of this have to do with Adam?!"

"From the moment you saw that boy's poor mother...he ceased to exist, too. I had taken him only for a moment, and gave you back something you promised to protect. But you've been living a lie, [y/n]. Your "son" was never actually him."

"You mean to tell me he's......?" Your heart dropped into your stomach, realizing what he was implying. But you clenched your fists. "N-No. You're lying."

"You had already failed them before you even realized it." The TV glitched to show the shadow of a certain woman with her neck broken, before displaying an image of the Murray house, before it reverted back to the Intruder's face. "You could've joined them, but we wanted to see how he'd grow under your watchful eye. Now thanks to you, we know we can blend into mankind and watch it rot from the inside out. And soon we'll awaken him, too, and rejoice."

"I don't believe you." You tried keeping your voice steady and calm, knowing he was attempting to inflict M.A.D on you. "If you think he's going to be anything like you freaks...you're dead wrong."

"Oh, but he will. He must. It's his fate."

"If he's one of you, then why would he care for the real Adam's mother like she was his?! And on that note...was hanging her just your little "distraction" so you could-?!"

"You accuse me as if I pulled the rope." He scoffed. "But I didn't. She just lost all hope and faith in finding him. That poor mother, too distraught at the sight of her missing infant---distraught at the sight of her missing infant, missing infant, missing infantmissinginfantMISSINGMISSINGMISSINGMISSINGMISSING...."

His voice suddenly began repeating on a loop, corrupted messages and symbols covering the screen. Through it all, you were still able to make out his haunting gaze and widening grin.

The only way he disappeared was when you grabbed a nearby chair and smashed the glass with it, shattering the screen to pieces. Electric sparks and smoke sputtered out of the TV, but besides that...it was finally silent again.

You huffed and took several steps back.

Yet you had little time to fully process everything he told you as your phone rang again. You hesitantly checked it, only to become relieved at seeing's Adam's number and quickly answered it.

"A-Adam! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, um..are you? What happened? You just hung up on me.." He sounded rather concerned.

"I didn't mean to. S-Something must've disconnected our call.." You scrambled to grab your keys, convinced he was in danger.

'Damnit, I swore I was gonna stay away from Mandela, but if he's still there....and HE knows about him-.'

However before you could get your shoes, you stopped and felt a sudden chill run up your spine.

One that left you with the feeling that you weren't alone anymore.

Your gaze slowly went to the front door, where a tall humanoid figure lurked in the nearest corner. It was overtaken by a huge shadow, although the whites of its elongated eyes were still visible, staring back at you.

Adam's concerned "hellos" on the other end fell on deaf ears as you watched the creature limp out from the darkness, revealing itself to be the most horrifying attempt at human mimicry possible.

The worst part?

It looked just like you.

"I'm here whenever you need me, son." It echoed your voice, stalking towards you and forcing you away from the front door, back into the kitchen area. "Something must've disconnected our call-l-l!"

"Who the hell was that? What's going on?!"

Finally hearing your son again, you swallowed back tears as you shakily reached for a large knife, keeping the phone in a tight grip.

This was it for you.

You've just been a pawn in their plans all along.

The Intruder had intentions to kill you with M.A.D by revealing you've basically raised an Alternate for them, and if that despair alone didn't end your life.....then this beast that somehow got inside your home will surely finish the job.

But screw that. Screw all of them.

You'll fight till your last breath if you must.

Your only regret is leaving Adam all alone when he's already lost so much in his life...but you didn't want him to think you resented him.

"I-I have to go. I'm sorry if I sounded harsh back there. I just want you to make the right choices. But if this BPS stuff makes you happy, then..keep doing what you're doing. Just be careful, okay?"

"Uh, sure. But why are you talking like that, [y/n]??" His voice was growing more worrisome. "Look, I'm sorry. I-I swear I'll come back home soon-"

"Don't worry about me...I'll be okay." You smiled shakily, not taking your eyes off the creature closing in. "Just take care of yourself out there. This world's cruel, but I know you'll kick it in the ass."

"Just wait a damn second! Don't g-!"

"Goodbye, my son. I love you."

You ended the call, dropping the phone to the ground and holding the knife with both hands, finally ready to accept your fate.

The Alternate howled with laughter, before it lunged at you with its claws and jaws wide open.

"GOODBYE-E-E!!!!"

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Uh-oh! Bad decision, [y/n]!"

.

.

.

--January 16th, 2009--

Adam staggered through the front door to his home, famished, dehydrated, exhausted....

And burdened with knowledge that made him want to die.

Only a few months ago, you disappeared after that concerning phone conversation you two exchanged. He hasn't heard your voice since, and when he returned to Werksha..you were nowhere to be found.

There was no sign of a break-in, or anything of that sort..but Adam was convinced you were taken just like his mom was--obviously by one of the Alternates.

So he went back to Mandela to continue his investigations alongside Jonah, growing desperate for answers. There had to be at least one who knew what happened to you and where you are.

His obsession with these hunts only worsened, turning him into a crueler person around those who questioned his reasons for "chasing" after Alternates. Evelin did break off the relationship for good, seeing as he was too far gone to even reason with.

He knows you would've been disappointed in him...but surely you'd understand why he'd do this. You understood him better than anyone.

You said it yourself. As long as he was careful, he can do whatever he wanted!

Yet nothing ever turned up.

Until the day he and Jonah agreed to help put a cat's spirit to rest, the "owner" offering them $500 a night if they stayed for three in total...

That investigation ended in a huge argument in which Jonah brought up your name and his mother, setting him off and indirectly causing his best friend's death.

And then he was all alone again, but acted like none of it bothered him and tried to quell BPS' online following with a memorial video.

Days later, the Intruder contacted him on his laptop and unveiled the truth about his existence--the same truth he told you before you died.

"Your skin is not your own."

"You're not the real you."

Those words were drilled into Adam's mind, and he could feel his own body going through an agonizing metamorphosis as he forced himself to drive back to Werksha one last time.

He barely was able to drag himself out of the van and through the front door.

But that's when he was greeted by a grisly sight:

Your rotting corpse slumped against the wall, a bloody knife in your palm and a deep slash wound across your throat, your clothes caked in dried blood.

You were never missing.

You died.

And whatever monster brought you back here decided to present you as some twisted "gift" for him.

Adam collapsed and screamed so loudly that it shattered the lights he turned on, deciding right there that he didn't wanna live this way anymore. He couldn't. He didn't wanna become one of them.

He wanted to join you while he still had his humanity left.

Yet despite all his attempts to end his misery, including using the same knife you used to stab himself and consuming enough bleach cleaner he found under the sink to make him vomit his guts out......nothing was working.

His body didn't fail him like he expected.

He still felt his bones breaking in all the wrong ways, and now his insides fucking burned like an inferno.

Eventually, Adam stopped and instead covered your body with his BPS hoodie, sobbing about how sorry he was for not being here for you, before he managed to crawl his way into his room--his one place of comfort.

Having no strength to climb onto the mattress, he just slumped next to his bed, leaning against the nightstand for support. He made the mistake of looking into the cracked mirror beside him...and wailed as he saw the same monster that robbed you of life staring straight back at him:

A gaunt, skinny husk of a boy with pupils of light and a horrifying facial expression that's impossible for humans to mimic.

God, he wishes he spent more time with you...had he known all of this was going to happen..

Did you know he was an Alternate? Is that why you were afraid of him coming back to Mandela?

What would you do if you found him like this?

Would you still hold him?

Would you still sing to him?

Or....

'That's it...I can sing...' He realized, slowly quieting down as he recalled all the times you sang to him whenever he was saddened in the past.

If you were able to calm him down easily, then surely he can calm himself down in a similar way in this situation. It's just his own voice this time around; it couldn't be that much different...right?

It was worth a try.

"...s-such...a...pretty house...and...and such a pretty gardennn...."

He ignored the creaking of the front door being opened, and the footsteps that echoed through the house, slowly approaching his room.

"No..alarms-s-s....and no....a-and no....!"

Suddenly Adam began hyperventilating, eyes filling with tears as he struggled to finish the line, despising the way it sounded.

It wasn't the same.

It wasn't your voice.

It was a voice that wasn't even his own. Just a broken and flawed attempt to mimic the real Adam's--the one who never even got a shot at life before it was stolen away from him.

If this didn't help him..then nothing could..

He wanted you back.

He needed your voice to sing and comfort him, just as you've done all those years ago.

He needed you.

But you're never coming back again.

Up to this point, a certain ex-lieutenant officer with a vendetta against the Alternates entered the bedroom, shining the light around until he found this kid sitting all alone and....

Singing a Radiohead song?

He realized his ears weren't deceiving him, but just as he attempted to confirm his identity-

Adam's jaw unhinged without warning, stretching to impossible proportions as he looked directly into his eyes, screaming and crying out with all the grief left in him:

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!"

[mushroomnoodles]

imagine dying and leaving your little kid, I bet simon was so fucking anxious; he didn't even got to say goodbye. and morri was so young! he was like a child mentally I bet, so I would be also worried for that little detail.

tw for parental death but its mostly just talking about simons thoughts about morri in the dead world + some post revive

he was extremely anxious! he knew morri was gonna find him like that, and he was reeling from how suddenly he'd gone. no goodbye, no i love you, no it'll be okay, nothing. he sort of stopped considering death as an option once the first 100 years passed, and since he hadn't felt any different at all, he had no reason to suspect he'd metaphorically implode.

now, morri is smart for their age, more like a naive adult than a teenager, but they are limited by the emotional maturity of someone their age. morri had never really dealt with death before, especially not death so close to them. he was so anxious for how it'd affect their developing mind.

he was especially concerned because he and morri were so closely bonded, he knew he was morri's favorite person and the only thing he could hope was that marceline would take over like he requested. he had faith in her, he knew she'd raise morri well. of course, he didn't account for morri getting powers and running off since they hadn't shown any sign of having their abilities since birth.

he also figured he wouldn't be able to see them again for a long time due to their lifespan, and just sorta buckled down and was like, surely marceline has it under control. and even if morri was young, and he was worried for them, they were strong and he was certain they would be okay eventually. though that concern never went away, and he didn't really get any news of morri's wellbeing. he did look for betty for a time too, since he hadn't seen her since before morrigan was born, but she wasn't around. he did enjoy his hypoallergenic pillow though.

in the resurrection timeline, when he was first revived he was initially in shock and incredibly disoriented, but his thoughts beyond "ow my face and head and everything" and "betty?" were all on morri. he mistook morri for betty because his vision was blurry on top of the mid eyesight and last he saw them they were prepubescent.

he did initially think that marceline had raised morri, they looked so grown up and put together! although with time he will definitely notice the uh. lack of a parental figure in their behavior and step in to be a bit stricter than he was in their youth. and he picks up some of their vocabulary