#i don't know if i have fr ptsd or if it's normal to be this affected by random banging/loud noises and aggression in my home but like

[alexjcrowley]

Btw I can't believe all the Hamilton edits with Hamilton the musical, especially to Wait for it but when they're done with Carlos

Like girl be fr if someone is his Burr that's not Carlos that's Nico fucking Rosberg, he owned that role

Carlos and Lewis have had beef for a month because Vasseur gave Lewis Carlos's job, you want bitter soul crushing rivalry that's been destroying another guy's life step by step, that's been booked by Britney since day one

[lungfuls]

Really fucking sick of our downstairs neighbors banging on their ceiling after we do completely normal things like gently shut our front door, walk a little faster than normal, the dog getting off the chair (she has arthritis, she's not jumping), etc. So I'm just going to start jumping up and down as hard as I possibly can every time they bang on the ceiling 🙂 to show them what it would sound like if we were actually being disruptive!

[po1sonous-l0ve]

saw something in my notes about a daughter of nyx, so here we are. Shoutout to the person who commented it on my pjo hcs!

Jason Grace x child of Nyx headcannons

•He carries a parasol around with him during summer to shield you from the sun.

•whenever you're angry, you give off shadows, and he knows to stay away.

•You help him with his ptsd nightmares, as he often comes puffy eyed to you in the night.

•He'll sit down on the floor and place his head in your lap as you sit on the bed and quietly stroke his hair.

•You often end up with his arms around your waist, head resting on your stomach.

•You two are grumpy and sunshine dynamic fr fr

•Like you'll be getting into a heated argument and all the campers run to go get him.

•he'll gently rest his hand on your shoulder and you'll instantly calm down.

•You normally hate other people's touch, but you crave his.

•You have a resting bitch face, and whenever he introduces you to someone, he has to add, 'ik she looks scary, but shes really nice, trust.'

•I don't know what else to add.

•uhh, sometimes he calls you Batman when you're being grumpy.

•You pretend to hate all the pet names he gives you (darling, angel, honey) but secretly melt inside when he calls you them.

[delusionsofspace]

Ideas/HCs based off friend post?? <3

OH MAN LMAO OKAY UH?

I wasn't expecting AU asks but that actually is a fucking hilarious concept to me

Edit I am adding a fucking readmore because I am INSANE please click for submas rambles

So the tags say l4d and I'm gonna be so fr I don't know a lot of the lore, but I do know zombies and that there are special types

I honestly think, theres two kinds of scenarios that can definitely play out and it all depends on if Ingo gets amnesia or not (if we go with the no pokemon theory, therefore Uxie does not exist, BUT there are other ways to get amnesia so we vibing) because there are plenty of scenarios that make sense for random persok to have serious amnesia. If Ingo just, Wakes Up somewhere he definitely would be logical about it and start off with "I must have been injured whilst trying to survive" rather than "I'm from a different fuckikf universe help me"

My first thought is, if he does get amnesia from idk hitting his head or just Arceus being a cunt, then I think he is a very practical man and would adjust accordingly. He would be stressed as fuck, yeah sure. He would be VERY unhappy about having to be more aggressive in his stance on how he approaches situations (and not understand why he feels like there should be somebody else at his side handling more aggressive/threatening scenarios) but, much like in Hisui, he can definitely go from being funny train man so scarily ripped old man who can and Will deal with shit as needed.

I think guns would absolutely be a learning curve, though. He is used to the loudness because of trains, and I personally headcannon Ingo as hard of hearing and that's why he yells so much (which he would also have to learn to control to not alert the zombies in his immediate area) but I still think he is autistic enough to probably not appreciate how loud guns are. I think he would Deal With It but be moderately grumpy about it, I also think he sould probably be a great shot because of how calculating he can be, rather than if Emmet was in the situation where he would just shoot first and think second.

If we were in a situation where Ingo did have his memory though, I genuinely think that woukd be worse in a way?

The entire time he would be trying so hard to get back to Emmet, it would be literally his only goal, right next to not dying. He would probably speak about Emmet a lot, and also regularly use him as his motivation. God forbid he got injured, his only words would be "I can't die here, I need to get back to him, he must be so worried". He would absolutely also likely put his own health above others slightly more than if he had amnesia, because when he cannot clearly remember Emmet he falls back into his protective older brother stance of making sure everyone else is okay first. ESPECIALLY if they are kids, like in Arceus with the player character.

I also think if he ever got returned to Emmet, he would be much more of a changed man than when/if he returns from normal Hisui. Like deeply traumatized type beat. Amnesia or not, returning to a safe place after being in a horrible location that you literally have to kill to survive would do numbers on his mental health. I think he likely would end up very jumpy, with some form of PTSD, maybe even from the guns and would have issues with loud sudden banging noises. I think he would likely require Emmet to straight up be like a service animal (servive sibling? lmao) to keep him company in public so he wouldn't start tweaking. Crowds would probably stress him out, and he'd also probably be much more touch repulsed than before hand, where I imagine Ingo to be neutral to touch while Emmet is deeply touch adverse (minus Ingos touch, obviously)

Wow I fucking rambled . More asks if you have more questions please because I am unwell (I also deeply enjoy this AU idea ngl I think we should traumatize Ingo a little bit more. For the sillies. It's enrichment to him)

[apprenticestanheight]

I don't know if your taking requests still 😭 but I would kill for some reader and adam angst, like Adam and reader were in the trap and are both suffering with the aftermath of it, but they have eachother to help, fluffy and angsty💔❤️ but bit more angsty for reader, maybe PTSD triggers if your okay with that?.. thankyou!! I love your work and you're fr keeping my obsession alive 😭 idk what I'd do without your works, love you bb <3

We'll Be Okay- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

Hi!! I love me a good post-bathroom trap centric fic (nearly all of mine for adam have been aus where he lived because I refuse to think otherwise) and writing this was a good distraction from my life as it is now so thank you for sending this in!

One thing before we get into it--Adam is where Lawrence was in terms of the trap, and the reader is where Adam was. They wake up in the bath tub like Adam did because I needed their fear of water to make sense and that was the way to do it.

Fic type- this is hurt/comfort with angsty elements

Warnings- mentions and depictions of undiagnosed PTSD (the reader does mention going to therapy eventually but that's not until the fic is near it's end as to my understanding, therapy wasn't that big of a thing nor was it normalized in a big way until the early-mid 2010s. Might also be wrong there but google refused to tell me very much so meh), depictions of flashbacks, mentions of a fear of the water and such hindering the ability to shower for longer than three or so minutes (make up wipes are used in place because it was my first thought), a mention of serial rapists (in terms of Jigsaws victims), mentions of guns and bullet wounds and guns misfiring, mentions of drowning and being shot into the bathtub, reader is afraid of water and the dark post-trap

TWO MONTHS POST BATHROOM TRAP

You'd escaped the bathroom trap with Adam two months before you found yourself standing in a garden in Jersey after having left your apartment for the first time in two weeks. You were wearing basic outfitting--a pair of black jeans, a white cable knit sweater because Jersey was finally cold enough for you to dig it out of your closet, black Dr Marten boots that you'd owned since high school and would never give up on despite the wear they'd accrued in the eight years since you'd graduated, a black cardigan and a white beanie because when Jersey was cold it was better to wear too much than wear too little.

You hadn't known what your goal of the day was when you'd woken up--grants that your closest friend had applied for for you to get funds after the traumatic incident covered your medical bills and had been covering your rent for the two months post escape. You were applying for jobs after quitting your other one because there were too many reminders of the trap there, but you'd decided the night before that you weren't going to go job hunting that day--but you knew you had to do something.

So, you got up. You did your best to shower--waking up in the bathtub and nearly drowning in it had hindered your capabilities to be under water for longer than three-ish minutes--and you told yourself that that was enough while you made sure you didn't stink by using make up wipes that smelled like your favorite scent.

You got dressed in the cable knit sweater you'd thrifted when you were eighteen, put on the black jeans you'd borrowed from a coworker that July but would probably never return, put on a couple of pairs of socks to help combat the cold while acknowledging that the Dr Martens you'd splurged on just a couple days before you were taken still needed breaking in. You grabbed the cardigan off of your coat hanger by the door, did up the three buttons on the waistline, and grabbed a hat when you remembered you needed to grab your phone and apartment and car keys before you left.

Then, you left your apartment. You decided to walk instead of drive and stopped by a local breakfast bakery because you'd been meaning to start supporting locally owned businesses anyway. You grabbed a cinnamon roll and your hot drink of preference, then you left the store and kept walking.

You found yourself standing in one of the only gardens in Jersey, the mornings frost dusting the grass in a way that makes it look almost more beautiful than it does in spring.

You breath in deep, the air bitingly cold, but you find yourself thankful for it. You've started noticing that you're thankful for a lot lately--after a couple of bullet wounds from Zepp and Adam both, you had to spend three weeks in the hospital just...healing.

The minute you stepped out of the hospital, you found your case wasn't quite old news and press just kept hounding you, going so far as to wait for you in the lobby of your apartment complex.

Coupled with that was the fact that you had to go to the police to give a statement while the events were still clear in your mind. Because of complexities on the force and with the Jigsaw case, your statements kept being interrupted because of how thin things were stretched even with the FBI on the case, so that occupied the first week of your second month out.

Then, it was a myriad of issues. You were too afraid to have the spaces in your place be dark, you couldn't handle being in the water for too long because Zepp had shot you into it when he shot you in the shoulder and the chest, being unable to move because Adam had misfired and shot you in the leg when the gun was within his reach and Zepp had tried to wrestle it away from him.

But, still. You took a deep breath in, watching the ground, and were grateful for that capability. Just like you'd thanked the barista who'd taken your order, thanked your luck that you'd woken up in your apartment rather than the bathroom like your nightmares had told you you would. Just like you would thank the first stray cat who ran up to you and rubbed their cheek against your hand when you extended it--Jigsaws aim had been to make sure you felt grateful for the life you got, and while it had left you traumatized, the innate urge to thank things that you'd taken for granted before seemed to come along with the fact that you'd survived.

You weren't grateful for the fact that you'd been trapped--the trauma you inherited along with the survival had kind of hindered that. Instead, your time was spent angered at Jigsaw for doing as he'd done.

"Y/N?" You hear your name being called, recognize the voice calling it instantly. "What are you doing in the garden? It's the middle of November."

You laugh a little bit as you turn to face him. "I don't know," you say. "I just--it's standing in the garden that will be relatively free of people until the spring or job hunting. I've been using a grant to pay my rent since we escaped, so I chose to do this instead."

Adam laughs a bit in turn, and you let yourself approach him.

He looks good--his hair has grown out a slight bit, he's got his camera slung over his hip. He's wearing glasses, too, and oddly enough they suit him.

He's wearing outfitting that you just think is so him--a pair of blue jeans, henley layered with a flannel or two, and a leather jacket. He looks better than good--he looks amazing.

"What do you do for work?" You ask in the interest of making polite conversation. "Are you still working as a--"

"PI? No," Adam says. "I work in photojournalism now. Don't even smoke as often as I used to, I get so damn terrified he's around and watching me."

You snort. "Oh, believe me, I can relate. I've debated adopting a dog recently but I'm too afraid that I'll see an old man sitting somewhere sketching away whenever I take them on a walk. I hate it, but it's the new normal so I guess all we can do is adjust."

"You could adopt a cat," Adam suggests. The two of you start walking toward the garden entrance. "Unless, of course, you decide to leash train them. In which case, just make sure they don't climb up a tree and I'm sure you'll be okay."

You laugh a little and realize that you haven't laughed so much since before the trap. It's a little disheartening, but you and Adam were dropped at two separate hospitals. You couldn't have talked to him before that moment, and you were going to cherish it and all the laughter it brought along.

"If I did adopt a cat, I would want to make sure I had a job beforehand. The grants my friend got me on can be used to pay for rent and other expenses but I don't want to adopt a cat using 'hey, you were traumatized and we can't fix that but here's some money!' money. You're able to apply for them up to three months after the incident, so if you're needing something to cover the rent and make sure you have adequate groceries from paycheck to paycheck, I'd look into it."

Adam shook his head. "Pfffffftt," he breathed. "What--rent money and grocery money? In this America? How foolish a thought!"

You laugh. You'd not experienced any trouble with putting food on your table thanks wholly to the grants, but before the trap you were making enough to cover rent and rent only and as such would frequent the foodbank nearest your apartment.

"Seems a luxury until you realize that living without roaches is, in fact, your right as a tenant. Does your new job at least pay you enough to move somewhere?"

"They gave me a place, actually! It's near my job and the rent is cut from my paycheck. I get five hundred for groceries which goes a long way when one is shopping sales and at places like Aldi," Adam says. "I'm also using a company owned car--my friend Scott knows someone who knows someone else. Got an interview, didn't flunk my way through it, and now I've got a solid set up, I think."

You smiled. You were so happy for him.

When you're within a foot of the exit, Adam sidesteps, gestures at it and lets you through first with a sarcastic grin on his face. "The one who's got more bullet wounds gets to leave first," he says as you exit.

"I don't have that many more than you do," you say.

"You have four," Adam says. "Two in the chest, one in the shoulder, one in the leg. I have one--a shoulder wound is nothing, especially considering that Zepps aim was off."

You smile close-lipped at him, and Adam shakes his head.

"I know," he says. "Too soon. 'M sorry I didn't visit you--I meant to find your number in the phone book after I'd gotten out of the hospital, but I didn't know if you'd gotten out yet and I didn't want to leave a voice message. Doing so would've felt pathetic, I think."

"It's all right," you said. "I was a mess until my last four days in--had I seen you, I think that I would've needed to be sedated. John definitely got to me in a way that was not very fun at the start."

"You're on a first name basis with him now?" Adam asks, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"Oh yeah," you said. "Kramer and I get coffee every Wednesday, and I hear all about the relatively innocent people he plans to put into his murder machines. Not a lot of photographers, though--you must've been a one-off."

Adam snorts and you laugh, leaning against him a bit. It's like something in your dynamic has cracked, returned you to the people you were in the bathroom--Adams sarcasm, your riffing off of his responses and hitting back with your own. The difference is that Adam found the key to the chain around his foot in a cracked and lifted area of the floor two feet away from where the chain on his foot kept him, and left after finding that the key required for the cuff on your foot was different. You were stuck for a few days before Kramer and one of his accomplices freed you after asking if you'd held out hope and when you responded yes desperately because you were dehydrated and hadn't eaten and you were bleeding out.

Adam sighs. "I have to get to work, but I'll call you, okay? You have a landline?"

"Yeah," you nod. "It's the number beside my name in the phone book."

Adam nods. "Okay," he says.

And then you're watching him go, and the coldness of reality is returning.

FOUR MONTHS POST BATHROOM TRAP

In the months that follow, you end up with a job working in marketing. Adam calls your landline and you give him the number associated with your flip phone. You start meeting for coffee when your shifts line up and let you do so before or after work, and on the weekends and most weekdays you two are inseparable until midnight comes and you're telling Adam to call you in the morning while you go about your nighttime routines.

Adam stays over on the weekends, or you stay at his. It depends on who's place the coffeeshop or bar you go to after work is closer to because the two of you take turns choosing where.

When, two weeks into your second month post escape, you adopt the pair of stray kittens you find in the dumpster behind your apartment, Adam starts picking coffeeshops that are closer to your apartment than his own.

The cats are both boys and are named Cinnamon and Nutmeg for their brown coats. Cinnamon is completely brown all over and blue eyed, whereas Nutmeg is a calico that has shades of brown all over his back, paws, face and tail, where white is on his tummy and neck area.

Adam has spent more time taking photos of them than he'll willingly admit, but as time develops he also has a ton of photos of you doing anything and everything--opening the windows, falling asleep while you two watch a bad horror movie, doing some work from home, making coffee and tea, holding a joint, making breakfast, eating an edible.

He also realizes as time goes on that you are a lot worse off than he is. Three months in and you can't stomach the thought of going to the part of Jersey where the trap was located. You can't exist in spaces absent of light for too long, you look over your shoulder constantly because you're afraid that the act of lighting a cigarette while in a public space will have you trapped again. You cry a lot and are sometimes terrified to be in your apartment because you were taken from there, just like Adam was.

There are days where something sets it off and you're thrown off kilter so bad that you have a panic attack. Nutmeg the cat is very receptive to moments like that one, often rushing to your side with Cinnamon the cat on his toes, ready to press his face against your tear stained cheeks while you idly pet at the fur on the top of his head, and Adam lights the lavender candle you use because the scent of lavender is calming.

Three months in and Adam is suddenly fond of notebooks because he likes to keep track of the things that trigger it for you. Winter-era power outages from the wind are not at all helpful in your recovery post trap, he discovers. You hate it, even with the candles lit. You cannot stand living in the dark--it reminds you of waking up in the bathroom, waking inside a full bathtub with your foot chained to a pipe on one side of the room while Adam was chained to one on the other. You can't stand the smell of the sewage in downtown Jersey or the smell of the dumpsters behind your apartment building because it smells too much like the bathroom. You get anxious about the idea of taking baths and being submerged in the water and find showers difficult most days.

You thank baristas and hold the doors open for people. You thank Nutmeg and Cinnamon whenever they cuddle up next to you or in the all-too-common instance that Nutmeg tries to use kisses as a reason for you to feed him two dinners. You laugh at dogs in the park doing silly stuff and you love the taste of coffee. You watch the news warily whenever a new Jigsaw victim or survivor comes out of the woodwork and you love the job you ended up with. You can't stand the sight of Walkmans or the sound of cassette tapes. You seem to thrive off the sound of Adams laugh in the way he thrives off yours.

By the fourth month, Adam has realized that his lists of the things that set you off and their solutions have just become lists of things you do and don't really notice while you do them--the smile on your face when you feed Nutmeg and Cinnamon or choose to donate a dollar to whichever charity when you and Adam are ordering your coffee from the coffeeshop you've both taken a liking to near your apartment.

The way that you look when you're baking or the way that you look when you watch the sunset, the sound of your laugh in the mornings.

The way that you look when you've just woken up and are registering the fact that Adams hand is carding through your hair because he's been awake fifteen minutes longer than you have. The sheer excitement you seem to radiate while you make your first cup of coffee of the day, the serenity that takes you over whenever the two of you watch the sunset from Adams fire escape, the way that you lean against him, arm looped through his elbow, when things get too much or when the world gets too quiet.

His lists of the things that he likes about you and the ones about things that set you off are eventually put into two separate notebooks after a while of meaning to separate the two things and have two different styles--the ones of things he likes about you are rambles. They go on for pages at a time and there are more run on sentences than there aren't.

The lists of things that trigger your trauma responses are simple--Adam writes the trigger and the solution.

Staying in the dark for too long--consider buying a small lamp for corner of room as Christmas gift, light candles, open windows (cold is good--Y/N likes the cold. Helps keep them grounded) play shitty 80s horror movie so that there's light from the tv

The smell of sewage and dumpsters behind apartment complex--avoid the areas of Jersey where the sewage is prominent, tell Y/N to plug nose and breathe through mouth when taking the garbage down

They're simplistic in their own right, complex in that too, but they're good.

Adam is holding a six pack of donuts and a tray with two coffees from your favorite local breakfast bakery when he opens your door, startled to find it unlocked. Your apartment door was always locked unless Adam called beforehand and you knew you'd be in the shower when he showed up, thus unable to let him in, but he'd not called that morning. He knew you didn't have to work and neither did he, so the fact that your door was unlocked set him on edge almost instantly.

He proceeds in with caution, setting the coffee and donuts on your coffee table. Nutmeg the cat meows at him before starting in the direction of your fire escape, the curtain drawn to a close over the window through which you got to it. When Nutmeg turns around to make sure Adam is following, Adam starts to.

He pulls the curtain over your window back, blinking a little in the surprise he feels as he realizes that it's mostly closed. Your back is pressed against the railing, your body facing the window, your eyes closed but your face tilted skyward.

Adam opens the window, steps onto the fire escape. He closes the window behind him after gently shooing Nutmeg the cat indoors so that he doesn't have to deal with the cold bite of Jersey in January.

"Y/N?" He asks in a voice that's barely above a whisper. He's helped you through panic attacks as you've helped him through the same, but he's never seen you like that before.

Your eyes open. You don't look at him.

"Do you ever get nightmares?" You ask.

Adam inhales sharply. His capabilities as far as sleep are concerned have been detrimentally affected since he escaped the bathroom trap. He went from getting somewhere just past the seven hour threshold on weekdays and nine or ten on weeknights to nightmares no matter how mundane the day. Because of the nightmares, he'd averaged out to three or four hours a night, two on his worst and five on his best.

"Every night since I left," he says. "When I escaped, I had a nightmare about leaving you behind--which, I did at first. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

You were chained to a pipe near a bathtub. Adam had been chained to a pipe near the door. Adam had found the key in a cracked and lifted part of the floor about two feet away from him after several hours of bickering and telling Adam to shoot you despite his protests. That day had been one of the worst days of your life.

Still, four months after your escape and well into a January in the city of Jersey, the days you spent starving to death, fading in and out of consciousness and bleeding from four wounds barely managed to top that.

"I didn't have too many," you say. "Not until recently--went for a three month visit to check on the wounds in my chest. Think that spurred me on a little, and I've been having them for three weeks now."

"What are yours about?" Adam asks.

You meet his gaze. Adam is startled to find that he can probably drown in the relief he feels as you do, following it by a gentle shake of your head and a smirk while you stretch your right leg out, crossing your ankle over his left foot. Adam presses his back against the window and idly wishes he could smoke.

"Nah," you say. "Nope. You first."

"Leaving you behind, mostly," he admits. "Some are about one of us being put into a trap again, the other of us being forced to watch them die. Mundane stuff compared to what old man Jigsaw is known for, right?"

You laugh. "Mine are somewhat the same," you say. "You leave me behind, but it's your choice to do so. Others center around my experience escaping, most are about drowning in the bathtub while you hold me, though. Sweet stuff--you're sobbing and you kiss my forehead and you ask the sky 'why, why them?'"

Adam snickers. "Had that been how it happened, I absolutely would've done that," he says. "God isn't really someone I believe in, but I would've stopped believing in him had you died. I uh--well, people have been put into Jigsaw traps for worse than us, right?"

"Worse reasons, and pettier ones, too," you say. "You spy on people, I fudged the data on a couple of marketing reports when my old boss promised me a raise, which you ended up investigating."

You approach and Adam welcomes your embrace, settling with you sitting against the fire escape railing by the window, one of Adams legs up and your leg tucked beneath it while the other sat near his foot, your foot resting against his calf.

"We're going to be okay," you say. "I mean--not now. Probably not by March, but we will be, I think."

Adam scoffs. "You think?"

"I don't know," you shrug. "Nothing is certain, really, but if I'm remembering correctly, 'time heals all wounds' was, in fact, my senior quote. Either that or something from a Jane Austen novel."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss against your forehead. You relax for a minute, eyes closing as you breathe the cold air in and whatever kicked up that trauma response seems to settle.

"For the record--I think we'll be fine," he says. "I mean, my margin for fine is a little on the low end, but I really do think we'll get there one way or another. We have to."

You grin at him, take his hand.

An unspoken truth exists there--you'll be okay if you have each other. You'll claw your way to okay if you have to, but you'll get there and you'll do with hands entwined, no matter how exhausting it becomes.

SIX MONTHS POST BATHROOM TRAP

You were working. You liked your job. Yours and Adams romantic relationship had been going on for a month when you decided to turn on the news on a crisp evening somewhere near the second week of March.

Another case. Another victim and survivor both, another instance wherein Jigsaw completely evaded capture and no leads on his location are findable.

Sometimes, despite the number of good days you have, you have bad ones, too. Adam is the same--his trauma isn't as bad as yours in the long run, but sometimes his nightmares throw him for a loop or he finds the darkness too unsettling or he gets too close to the part of town where the trap was without realizing until it's too late.

You both have your bad days and your bad weeks, and you've both come to rely on each other during those times. Adam knows how to get you onto the ground again when you feel like you are floating outside of yourself, and you know how to help him when his nightmares have left him helpless, drowning in the thought that he'd left you to die alone in the bathroom.

Adam knows your signals well enough, which explains the closeness he keeps to you when he shows at your apartment after his shift where yours had ended only forty-five minutes beforehand and you'd been home for all of thirty.

You'd managed to take a shower in that time, but in combination with your trauma exacerbated by a nightmare when you'd slept the previous night, it still left you reeling. Every drop of water against your skin was another reminder of the fact that you'd been shot into the bathtub, would've drowned if not for the fact that Adam pulled you out in a panic.

So, you were standing in your living room, your hair was damp. the news was on in the background, some reporter droning on about the specifics of the newest set of survivors and the victims who'd been identified thus far.

You were wearing a pair of adidas joggers and one of Adams hoodies, socks covering your feet because your floors were always cold. You were asking Adam if he wanted to order a pizza while he interlaced your fingers and nodded, pulling you back toward him when you started walking away and pressing a kiss to your forehead when you melted into his embrace for a split second.

You ordered the pizza while your brain was still trying to process everything, some part of you wanting to go back to watching the news despite knowing that such probably wasn't in yours or Adams best interests.

Once the pizza was ordered, you and Adam went to your living room. Adam looked at you how he looks at you when he's trying to determine the best way to help and ends up pulling you close, the two of you swaying along to the tune of the weatherman reporting the next week of Jersey springtime temps.

You're shaking, still a little on edge. You've been the way that you are for six months, and in those six months you've tried everything that you can short of going to therapy.

You bought melatonin gummies to combat the fear of falling asleep and thus falling victim to another nightmare and you take them as the fear sets in.

You've started gradually working on your fear of water rather than doing as you used to--forcing yourself under the shower head and trying to wash and condition your hair while in the midst of a panic attack--and you're slowly starting to work on your fear of the darkness, though you doubt you'll ever again find solace in it like you used to.

Adam, though, is a delightful constant in a life that, before your trap, was almost completely absent of them. You see each other daily, have each others backs and can read each other like neither of you can read anyone else.

Adam knows you inside and out, and that's why he knows to keep close while you sway, hands interlaced in order to keep yours from shaking.

Externally, you just seem like a couple in their mid twenties, swaying along to the music in their hearts while the news talks in detail of the latest local and global tragedies.

Internally, though, you're stuck in the bathroom again. Your chest is stinging with the reminder of the two bullets that were shot into it. Your leg aches like the wound is new and your shoulder begs for a reprieve from the burn of a bullet wound.

Internally, you're watching Adam try to jam the key into the lock attached to the chain on the cuff attached to your foot. He's angry because it's not working and you're begging him to go because you don't want him to see you bleeding out.

You're telling him "If you go, you have a shot at saving me. Go and get help, Adam. Please."

And he's responding. "I'm not going to leave you behind," and your hand is against his face, one of his is on your hip and you're both covered in blood that is his and yours both. Zepp Hindle is dead. The doors have slid open and Adam can go.

You push him away. "Please," you croak.

And then you watch Adam go, hope leaving you as he turns his back after promising that he'll come back and find you, even if it kills him.

Internally, you are once again the person who fell into murky bathtub water, and you're hearing Adams shouts as Zepp tries to drown you but Adam fights him off and yanks you out.

Internally, you are person startled awake by the feeling of two hands against your shoulders. You're mumbling Adams name.

"No," says a grizzly voice. It's the kind that just...has to belong to an older guy, the kind that you would hear from some sixty year old who'd chainsmoked his way through the previous ten years of his life.

"I have a question for you, Y/N," the voice is saying. "Have you held out hope for Adams return?"

In your bouts of consciousness, the first thing that you've spoken has been his name. "Yes," you're croaking, voice raspy from the disuse and the fact that you haven't drank water in days.

"Congratulations, then. You've passed your test, and it is time you got to a hospital."

Internally, you're hearing the sound of keys being inserted into the lock on the chain that holds your foot captive. You're being carried bridal style out of the building by a woman, dropped into an SUV. You're blacking out, starving and dehydrated, while you're driven to the hospital.

Then Adams voice meets your ears. "Y/N?" One of his hands moves to the small of your back. Your hand starts shaking but Adam moves it to his face, your thumb against his top lip. "Come home. We aren't in the bathroom--not anymore."

You're breathing in. Your eyes are opening as you trace your thumb over Adams lips. Adam steps just a little closer as your hand moves from his lips to his shoulder. You're careful not to touch the wound there.

"We're okay," Adam says. "It's been six months. Today, actually--it's the six month anniversary. I made it out and I called for help while I was sitting on a gurney in the ambulance. I didn't leave you behind, I promise. I told you I wouldn't and I didn't."

Despite the inklings of progress you've made, Adam senses that the reassurance isn't bringing you back like it's meant to. He tries to think of what you'd told yourself after a series of flashbacks--he's got it written somewhere, and despite himself, knows it almost like the back of his hand.

"Your name is Y/N L/N," he starts. "It's been six months since you escaped the bathroom trap, which you were placed into on September 10th, 2004. You were put into the trap because you fudged data for the promise of a raise that you desperately needed because your boss had lowered your pay to the point where it was either covering rent or eating on payday."

You did it like that--your name, the duration of time since you'd left the trap, the day you were put into it, the reason. That was always how it started.

"You are twenty seven years old," he continues. "You have two cats named Cinnamon and Nutmeg and you thank everyone for everything all the time. You say sorry a lot, too, and you like weed but you find nicotine a little disgusting because of how it tastes and the headaches smoking leaves behind.

"You like the coffee and baked goods from Maries on the corner of Cornelia and 45th. You hate the water and you hate the dark and you hate being left alone when the loneliness of that sets in, but you love things too. You love sunrises and sunsets, the smell of coffee and Jersey in the winter."

You squeeze his shoulder a bit, press your forehead against it. Adams hand moves from your lower back up to your shoulder, falling down your arm. He gives the hand of yours that is still tucked into his a squeeze.

"You love it when Nutmeg meows at you, the way that Cinnamon always runs to the good spot for sunbathing in front of your fire escape," he says. "You love late nights and the opportunities they give you in the realm of stealing my sweaters. You love cinnamon buns and music and the sound of birds chirping, and in an unexpected turn of events, your favorite movie is 1987s 'The Princess Bride'. You escaped the trap and we're in your apartment, we've ordered food, and everything is as okay as it can be right now."

You take a deep breath in. Adam squeezes your hand again, presses a kiss to your forehead.

"You surprisingly put up with my music taste despite the fact that ours differ," he says. "And you survived. You survived, Y/N. We both survived, and that has to count for something, at least."

Internally, the flashback ends. You exist outside of yourself for a solid thirty seconds more before Adams lips against your forehead brings you back to the ground.

"Thank you," you say, offering a weak smile. Adam grins back, reassuring and warm.

"Anytime," he says.

Six months in, things are okay. They could definitely be better, but they're okay enough and that's what really matters.

TWELVE MONTHS POST ESCAPE

The six months to follow are relatively decent--Adam moves into your apartment and his paycheck is bumped up significantly as he's not living where the company was paying for him to.

You find a therapist you like in order to work on your residual trauma and start going in every Saturday from two to four. You and Adam buy Cinnamon and Nutmeg a cat tree almost as tall as the wall in your living room and every single morning becomes one full of tired, groggy voices, hugs from behind and the sound of exhausted laughter.

The morning of September fourteenth comes quicker than you or Adam had expected for it to, but you try to go about your day as normal. Jigsaw is still at it, wherever he's ended up. You wake that morning to news of a detectives disappearance and one of his past victims having been tested again. There were two survivors in total--Amanda Young and Daniel Matthews, the son of the missing detective.

You try not to let it dampen your mood and decide to order breakfast rather than make it--you have the day off, as does Adam. You took it because you figured it wouldn't be a very good day and Adam took it because he wanted to suffer with you, in his words.

Off the bat, there's nothing that triggers it. Sure, the news has you in a tizzy as you discover that a group of people was placed into what evidence is reportedly calling "The Nerve Gas House," and you feel a moment of resentment for the fact that all of it is being sensationalized by the media, but that barely scratches the surface. It doesn't trigger much more than mild anxiety and resentment as you really start thinking about it. More people dead. Two left alive.

You wonder how Eric feels, how Amanda feels--both of them are being bombarded by the media just like you and Adam were, and you remember that much as though it were yesterday.

The true crime reporters were a different kind of ruthless, some of them trying to visit you while you were still in the hospitals recovery unit. News reporters also kind of sucked, but then it seemed like everyone wanted a scoop, and you could recall being told to "savor your fifteen minutes of fame" once by one of the particularly ruthless reporters who tried to visit you, even going so far as to open the door to your hospital room and enter while you were high on morphine and still being hydrated through an IV.

The entire thing has made you angry in recent months--Jigsaw, you can admit, puts a very wide scope of people into his traps. It ranges from people with a history of drug addiction or people like you who'd committed relatively minor offenses for decent reason to serial rapists and people who were the direct cause of someone elses death.

The ones who survive his traps are usually left with something to serve as a consistent reminder. For you it is back-of-the-mind worry about things in relation to your heart because two bullets were lodged there for several days. For Adam and you alike, it is the fact that you feel the bad weather before the bad weather hits because you'll get pain in your legs and your shoulders. For others, its the scars that self mutilation has left behind, sometimes even as far as consistent reminder of the loss of a limb coupled with the trauma and the responses developed from it.

So--the thing that makes you angry about all of it is that people survive the things that Jigsaw puts them through, and then, traumatized and having been given a hefty medical bill, the media circus will start. They'll be harassed by reporters as they walk down the street or after giving their statement to the police and the harassment will just continue until the next case comes around.

But, you suppose its better to digress. You turn the news off as you get a call that your food has arrived. Adam, having woken up and taken a shower only to get redressed into a pair of sweatpants and one of the baggy cableknit sweaters you loved digging out of your closet come the first of September, gets it from the door and thanks you for ordering food.

You sit and eat your breakfast while laughing at Cinnamon as he tries to steal Adams bacon, where Nutmeg the cat has settled between your side and the corner of the couch, head on your thigh as he purrs because you'd given him a few pieces of shredded cheese earlier, when you were snacky before you stepped into the shower and braved your way through standing under the water longer than five minutes.

Adam looks to you for help, and you shrug. "You're the one who took it upon yourself to feed him a small piece of bacon when he was nine weeks old," you say.

He laughs a little, holding his bacon egg sandwich in the air and laughing at Cinnamons persistence as he jumps from Adams lap to his shoulder, stretching out over Adams arm.

"I aided in the raising of a demon cat," he says. "You adopted a demon cat."

"I adopted two demons," you said. "I just don't happen to like bacon and Nutmeg calms down when I give him a little shredded cheese once every few weeks."

Adam shakes his head and relents, ripping a small piece of bacon off and letting Cinnamon have it. He's able to eat peacefully from there, Cinnamon settling on the couch cushion behind him.

You eat breakfast in a medley of calmness, talking about work and the apartment and getting snippy at one point, Adams sarcasm coming into play and you reminding him of how quick witted you can get when you riff off his sarcasm like it's nothing. You both mention how good a walk in the gardens sounds while the gardens are still walkable and not bitten by frost, but don't end up deciding to go right then.

There comes a point where Adam moves closer to you and you curl against his side and there's a silent knowledge that passes over you.

The one year anniversary of Adams escape was four days ago. The one year anniversary of your escape is today. Three days exist between the 10th and the 14th, all of which you spent alone. You were alone in that hospital, just as Adam was alone in his. Neither of you had reached out to your families beyond a few stunted phone calls, but you were still alive. A year gone and you were still standing.

Adam presses a kiss to your forehead. "'M sorry I left."

"I told you to go."

"I know, but I feel like I should've stayed."

You turn to look at him, shaking your head. "No," you say. "Had you stayed, we both would've failed and we would've been left for dead. You left because I begged you to go, you got to stay alive, and so did I. We both passed the test that Jigsaw set up for us and now we're here. You can't wallow in the what-ifs, okay? I already know how it would've ended had you stayed and I am relentlessly glad that you didn't."

You press your forehead against his. He grabs your hands. You interlace your fingers and give his hands a squeeze. Of course that day was not going to be an easy one--a year gone already? A year of nightmares, of flashbacks, of good and bad moments both, passed you by like it were a blink.

"We're okay," you whispered. "And we're okay because you left. You left, Adam, and you saved my life."

You pull away, meet his gaze. He's looking at you like you're the love of his life and he hates that leaving you was something he had to do at all.

"We're okay," you whisper.

"We're okay," Adam nods.

To tell the truth of it, you're not sure whether or not you're lying to yourselves. If you are lying to yourselves, however, then the lie is pretty damn convincing.

--

You and Adam end up walking through one of the only gardens in Jersey as the sun goes down. It's the first time you've been to the garden in ten months, and the ten months that have passed have been ones that were good, bad, everything.

Adams hand is interlaced with yours. Your cheek is against his shoulder. Things don't really feel okay, but you know that they will start to eventually.

But, there is also the truth within that that 'okay' is not a constant. There will be moments of your life wherein the thing in its entirety comes crashing down upon you, moments where you feel like breathing is a struggle, like blinking will make you exhausted. There will be moments wherein you're okay, moments where okay elevates to good. Good elevates to great, and great elevates to amazing.

There is not one constant state of feeling or emotion, there is not one constant state of being. Things will fluctuate, as they do, and as Adam lifts his camera to snap a photo of a stray cat, you think, for the first time since your escape, that you're fine with that.

Whatever the next phase of your life looks like, whatever it means for the trauma that still lingers from your time spent in the bathroom trap, you can handle it. With Adam by your side, with your apartment and the adorable cats you adopted two and a half months after you'd been dumped at a hospital with severe bleeding, blood loss, and several bullet wounds, you can handle it. Whether or not you'll be okay throughout all of that time, you'll handle it, and that's what matters.

[bugsbenefit]

okay okay i'm still thinking about s2

i love that season but but when i say i love the vibe i don't just mean the autumn, cold, gloomy, hospital, possession, UD leaking into Hawkins parts, even tho i do love them all, it's the deeper reaching theme of that season

Mike's and Will's crazy together scene is obviously important for their characters (it was literally so big it was Noah's audition dialogue for s1 lmao) but it's also a good summary of the overall mood for s2 too. because that season is the fallout of s1. they survived all of the horrors and yet they're Still haunted by them. s2 is really the season where everyone is going crazy while thinking they're alone with it

Will is getting haunted (and later possessed) by the UD while his doctors thinks he is suffering from PTSD and the anniversary effect and there is nothing to worry about

Mike is not over seeing El die, tries to contact her relentlessly and somehow picks up on her presence when she says his name in the void which he then thinks was in his head. he subsequently stops contacting her and never tells anyone he ?heard? her speak, because that wasn't real

Dustin hides keeping Dart because he thinks his friends don't understand him or his reason for caring which leads him to hide around his friends

Nancy sees Barb everywhere, and despite knowing Barb is dead she still approaches strangers who look like her, leading to her even break down in a bathroom in Barb's house, which she also never talks about (sibling moment fr)

Joyce is unable to move, on still too haunted and paranoid after losing Will, and is frustrated when she can't let go or verbalize her problem, even with a positive force like Bob actively reaching out to her and offering to walk her through it which should make it easy right?

El is sitting locked away in Hoppers cabin, being forbidden to leave and slowly going stir crazy with the addition of Hopper not keeping promises and "lying" to her. which leads her to her running off and finding out she's Actually been lied to about her birth family her whole life. then she also meets Kali who also doesn't get her which doesn't help

Hopper being confronted with the UD spreading over the town while being the only adult around who knows about it's existence. which means no one is realizing the actual danger of the spread and causes him to work alone and secretively until he eventually falls into the tunnels stretching out under the town where he becomes trapped

the motive of feeling crazy is everywhere. i could go on with the list. every character feels alone and crazy this season. Mike and Will are just the only one's actually verbalizing it to each other and finding comfort in the knowledge of not being alone

and i love the horror on the show. the Demogorgon from s1 is terrifying, the MF looks so good and eerie, etc. but i think the seasons that hit the best for me are the one's that incorporate the psychological into them. s2 felt so good because every character felt alone with their grief and experiences, everyone tries to move on as normal when in reality no one is feeling normal. but because everyone is pretending to have returned back to business as usual they're all left feeling like they are the only one left behind who can't keep up

and yeah i love the sweaters and the giant eldritch horror monster, and the fall vibes. but when i say i love s2 this is such a big part of what i'm talking about. the psychological isolation of the characters was just so 🤌✨ (the sweater weather and cold eerie fall vibes just make the isolation hit harder yk, they're like the spices on top)

[chuluoyi]

Same.... I've never spent a single cent on games, so I only can grind.. And I'm failing badly... I've grinded like 1000 s-chips in 3 days and I still need 200+ before I can do a 10-pull... YEA they've come so far... Lukerosa is so the best ship in my opinion! I love Vyn and Rosa dynamics too... Like I didn't like Vyn at the start cause he's so sussy (Vyn girlies don't come after me please) but after seeing him and Rosa rely on each other so much I feel like Marius's and Artem's relationships with Rosa are just pretty normal (Again this is my opinion so don't come after me please 😭😭)

It's about $8 for me... And woahwoahh again?! Are you like in Japan rn? And I would advise you to save your money... BUT if you don't get a Gojo coaster then spend away! Anything for the husbands 💖

YEA like I had no idea... I thought people disliked Suguru so I went into Animate all happy and shit but I guess I was wrong... Cause where I'm from everyone hates Suguru I'm just that one crazy fangirl AHHAH- And I share your sentiments... I think I just dislike that group of Kenjaku homies... I'm not wrong tho??!? Volcano man has ONE eye and is BLUE SKINNED but he gets all that the girlies desire 🥲🥲

HUH VENTI TOO 😭😭😭 Okay I probably would've done that too if I HAD Venti... But I lost 50/50 to Qiqi in all of his banners... But FR Genshin is so... Money leeching.... I have so many friends who want to quit but can't cause they already spent so much...

AHAHAHAH RIGHT WRIO SUPREMACYYY!! And it's always the men ahhahah!! I started cause of Diluc and Ayato omg... I only stayed till Sumeru cause of Alhaitham.... yes, I agree... These men are probably too... too holy? Throughout Heaven and the Earth, they are the honoured ones... 🥲🥲

hehehe it's really nothing!! 😍😍

And 'once' ..? You sure about that babe...

Also NO I have not seen the newest ep... I stopped for like 4 weeks cause I knew Nanami's end was coming... But guess what I was spoiled on Instagram anyway... Nobara is so precious like tf she's just 16 Mahito leave her tf alone!! Yuji too! Like he already killed Nanami in front of him... And he had to bring Nobara there too... He's despicable like please stop 😭😭😭 Leave our babies alone!

P.s. Chu I really enjoy talking with you omg like you're probably the only writer on Tumblr that I've interacted so much with!! Love you!!!

-🪩

HOW did you grind 1000 s chips in three days?!😭 disco anon i barely could grind 100 daily so how sskskks you must teach me😩

actually i agree with you!!🥹 in my personal opinion, it’s their chemistry due to the childhood friends trope that makes things already intimate between the two of them. ahh, i’m still not used to vyn i’m sorry🥲 partially bcs of the sus part HAHAHA

for me it’s luke - marius - artem - vyn 🥹 but i’m not saying vyn is bad! i actually love his birthday cards and the main story in the cruise ship! it’s just i’m not used to his calm persona HAHAHA marius is a big baby so he is dear to me and artem is the epitome of man every mother wants for their daughter so i go for him to delude myself into having the perfect man☺️

omg why?! suguru is so precious he didn’t deserve the ptsd imposed by the jujutsu world *sigh* VOLCANO MAN PLSSS😭😭😭😭 it’s so funny ahahahhaha

venti is not as useful ever since kazuha is released imo🥲 it’s just his burst skill is fun and you can fly. tbh i pulled for him just because he’s cute and anyway why do we pull for genshin men at all? not bcs of their usefulness, certainly. it’s just they’re so easy in our eyes😩😩🫶🏻

i agree!!🤧 like well everything is pricey, and the rate off possibility is just too much sometimes🥹

too holy lmao🥹🥹🥹 i think i’m logging in genshin again just to see my luck and primo… i honestly forget if i still have any left or not…

…sure. i’m totally sure. pls pray for me to be sure 💀

HAAHHHA there are many of my friends who haven’t even started the 2nd season at all bcs they already know what’s coming😭 but yes it’s so painful like nothing good comes in this season *sigh*

hshshsjjs i enjoy talking to you too disco anon!!🥹🫶🏻 thank you for stopping by omg i’m always happy to answer asks and i’m glad i’ve found kind friends in this hellsite because tbh i’m a bit spooked by several discourses i’ve seen in this fandom🥲 like pls i don’t ever want to be involved in any of that😭

love you too!!!✨

[mulletmitsuya]

Toman groupchat

Warnings: swearing, dark humor, descriptions of toxic relationships, mentions of suicide

(I did em wrong with this one, especially Mikey💀)

Baji: you know what, I'm gonna say it

Draken: I don't care that you broke your elbow

Baji: Mikey and Takemichi have a toxic relationship

Draken: I-

Angry: 😰

Smiley: IS IT FINALLY HAPPENING???

Hakkai: uhm😟

Mitsuya: Baji why do you always start shit

Baji: I won't sit by and let this disaster of a relationship unfold

Takemichi: .....disaster?

Mikey: don't listen to him babe

Mikey: Edward what's your problem lol

Draken: uh maybe we shouldn't have this conversation on chat this is a really bad idea

Baji: i know y'all agree with me. they're not normal

Takemichi: I don't think there's anything wrong with our relationship Baji-kun😕

Smiley: YOU DON'T??

Baji: your relationship is based on ownership, obsession and infatuation, love is not enough to fix THAT

Smiley: 💀

Draken: dude.... stop

Takemichi: how is it based on any of those things??

Mikey: Baji you obviously don't know what you're talking about you look so stupid rn😕

Baji: I may be stupid but I'm not an idiot

Baji: how did they meet? Draken you were there right?

Draken: please don't involve me

Baji: fine, but it was the "Starting from today you're my bitch❤️"

Baji: Takemichi had no choice in that matter

Mikey: Baji don't start a war you can't win

Mikey: If you want me to bring up receipts I will

Mikey: do you want me to start with you and Kazutora or you and Chifuyu??🤨

Baji: you literally almost beat him to death several times

Baji: dark impulses my ass. GET HELP

Smiley: this is so entertaining

Draken: guys please do this in private

Mitsuya: yeah fr this is so awkward

Baji: don't piss me off rn guys

Baji: and you guys are obsessed with each other it's not normal

Baji: like Mikey I know you're a traumatized mentally ill individual, but this ain't it

Takemichi: Mikey didn't do anything wrong

Smiley: funny thing is, I heard you say that standing over the body of someone Mikey killed

Mikey: didn't Chifuyu's face almost cave in because your other boyfriend told you to beat him up??? who is now in prison because HE TRIED TO KILL YOU???

Baji: idk what they gotta do with, this you're reaching

Baji: and I love how you haven't even denied any of these accusations

Mitsuya: please just shut the fuck up

Baji: when are you gonna tell Hakkai you used to be in love with Draken

Mitsuya: can't believe you said that actually

Mitsuya: should've stayed dead I can't believe this

Draken: huh

Draken: what

Hakkai: ....what

Mitsuya: key word is USED TO

Draken: what

Angry: why can't we all just get along and be friends

Smiley: ....don't talk, okay? it's for your own good

Angry: .....okay

Draken: Mitsuya what are they talking about

Mitsuya: .....uhm

Mitsuya: uhhh

Mitsuya: ngl fam, I don't know what to tell you

Mitsuya: like it was a long time ago and now I'm in a relationship with someone I love plus I got over it cause you're straight so

Mitsuya: this is awkward oh my god

Smiley: Baji killing relationships like he killed Shinichiro

Baji: why do you always bring that up

Smiley: it's funny seeing you in despair

Mikey: careful, he might go on a suicide mission again and then accidentally trigger his boyfriends mental illness and PTSD and ultimately fail miserably and die

Baji: I didn't fail that day, Kazutora's still alive so it was a win for me

Smiley: you call that a win????💀

Smiley: he was given a 10 year sentence 💀

Baji: I didn't press charges so it's only 5

Takemichi: I still don't understand Baji-kuns argument, me and Mikey are perfect for each other

Smiley: man, poor Hina

Draken: wait can we backtrack a little I think I misunderstood something

Mitsuya: shit I forgot to water my cats brb

*Mitsuya has left the chat*

Draken: ......

Draken: I wish we could have normal conversations

[witheringvoice]

Not A Vent Poem, A Vent

I wish I could be the type of person who gets pissed. I rarely do, I'm upset, I'm slightly peeved, how do you spell that? Grammarly will probably tell me if I got it right, I don't have premium tho. Oh well.

TW: Mentions of abuse, suicidal thoughts, whatever else, PTSD, stuff like that

I have struggled with sleep for as long as I could remember. When I was young, I had too much energy or random nightmares, or I just didn't have the lack of energy to be able to fall asleep and I was too restless not to. And don't forget the fact I'm the jumpiest motherfucker I know, I can't block out noises and any little noise will make me have to restart the passing out process, especially if it scares me shitless. And sometimes what I listen to sleep (some form of sleep aid, music related, an old stream, old youtube videos, music in general) doesn't work and I have to spend god knows how long finding something else that will be "calm" yet also mind-numbing enough to keep me distracted from my restlessness and constant moving brain to keep me able to sleep. And also, not to mention the fact that I did something dumb during quarantine, and now sleeping is so hard because I have to literally create a fucking dream before passing out, and to my dismay that is never the actual dreams I have, plus my constant waking up nearly every hour. For fucks sake.

When someone talks shit about my problems, it can really get to me. Like, yeah, I know I should be asleep. You don't think I want to be? It's four thirty-five am and I'm desperate to sleep, but I'm also too scared to because I know the moment I attempt to close my eyes I'll be met with a nightmare, a dream of some kind that might have something emotionally affecting even if it's not a nightmare, a dream that is happy or chaotic and I'll end up being saddened by, or the fact that I won't be able to sleep at all, which is always the thing that happens, ALWAYS. There have been times when I almost passed out at school, passed out on my feet, nearly fell over, and collapsed. Blood rushes to my head every time I get up, I lose my vision, I don't know what happens to me, I don't know why I can't sleep, anxiety? depression? PTSD? other issues I have?

I'm hurt, I'm scared, I'm lost. And my own fucking mother has the audacity to say in a disappointed, and irritated raised voice, "you really need to fix your sleep schedule" or something like that. Mom, my deal mum, dearest mom (I can't call her mother, my friend's nickname is mother, mother is cool, my mom isn't always very cool), I CAN'T. I can't fucking sleep, I know I desperately need to, the school year's coming up, and I really need to sleep. I'll be starting high school, I'll be starting pre-calculus, I'll be starting extra fucking anxiety because I went to a project-based middle school which was a lot fucking smaller than the other middle school in the district and I could barely handle that many students. There has been a multitude of times over the last school year, and much before that too, when I've functioned on an hour or less sleep (to be fair I also have such bad anxiety that I have to wake up so fucking early or I'll believe I'm late, even if there is no possible way I'll be late. Oh god and my moms gonna be driving me to school now, oh god we used to get late a lot, what the fuck am I gonna do, the stares, the disappointment of my teachers...), AND YEAH IT FUCKING SUCKED. But I survived, I managed, and somehow, I am not dead. She should be fucking proud, fucking proud that I haven't given up, done some horrible fucked up shit to me that I've thought about, that I keep trying, that I attempt to get sleep eventually, that I manage to get a sliver of sleep even if it's restless fucking sleep that sometimes does less damage than good. She should be fucking proud that my grades were fine, that I'm an overachiever and I'm going to high school having already taken some high school classes and am going in with some random ass credits that a normal freshman should have, I HAVE/HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO POTENTIAL GO AND BE A SOPHOMORE, to be fair I still don't know if that opportunity will happen, BUT IT WAS A POSSIBILITY. And I'm tired, so tired, physically, emotionally, mentally, in every way possible. I've been tired for so long, and she has the fucking audacity. God, I love her, I've loved her even probably when I shouldn't, through all of the fucking terrible shit she's done, I didn't even bat an eye and say anything about it, I tried to be her happy-go-lucky smart little beam of a child. I tried to be the youngest little cheerful prodigy. So much of myself has been fake since I can remember, and I don't even know who I am anymore. All I know is work, work work work. School is all I'm good at, and I'm not even good at it anymore. I loved to learn, but now I'm tired. I'm so tired, I'm so so tired. Please, she tries her best, right? Yeah she gambles, yeah she smokes even though I'm allergic and gave me asthma because of it, yeah she's physically harmed me a few times, but not as much as she did to my siblings before I was born! She used to be really bad, she's told me a lot. She tells me I should be happy she's better, is that a bad thing for her to say? I don't know, I don't know. She's said a lot of really bad shit, she doesn't drink much anymore though she never really got drunk around us. She's just stressed, right? I mean yeah she shouldn't have taken it out on us, and yeah it's only me now but I'm the least argumentative! I'm so quiet, haha my name's Silence...What am I gonna do? She isn't the worst mother in the world, I should be grateful, right? She's barely physically harmed me, and those times were so far in between each other, she'd never do it again, right? When she got into bad arguments with my brother it was scary, they got physical a few times, and it was really really scary. I don't like arguing, I don't think my therapist realizes my PTSD doesn't just stem from the Victor incident, that was just the final straw, the final trigger. Or at least I think so, arguments always sort of triggered me, and then that incident happened and then everyone was like- "Oh fuck this child has PTSD now." No, I probably had it, but nobody noticed because I cover for my family.

[not-that-blog]

So my future sister in law is home after surgery; which none of us knew bc my brother didn't tell us anything and probably isn't doing well and our family is chaos so I can't blame him.

And tomorrow; my parents have a call with my aunt and a doctor tomorrow (the aunt my father normally refuses to talk to) because my grandfather needs to be moved from assisted living to an actual nursing home. He's been fighting this for a long time and both my father and aunt are relieved his finally having to go to a higher level of care but I don't think anyones looking forward to telling my grandfather that. (This also is not the asshole grandfather, but he's not my family's favourite person by a long shot)

So because I'm already having a mental breakdown; because it's a trauma season and my ptsd is flaring like a mofo… I'm watching YouTube instead of sleeping.

Which also means I'm watching a bunch of home making and Hannah Wittons pregnancy videos and Amiee -can't remember her channel name- but she has pots and eds and is pregnant and I plan on watching her videos, I'm up to date on Jessica's… I should mention here, that I'm not pregnant, but my partner and I were discussing if I can carry the baby because I don't want her to have a baby and have the physical impacts of pregnancy and labor to impact her career, where as an artist it won't necessarily impact mine the same way.

My platonic life partner is an actress and works in aviation; so I'm going to be the stay at home parent, probably with some other platonic partners or support networks because we both agreed that it's best for everyone if we're at least co-parenting between 3-5 people... preferably 3-4 tho.

We're getting late night rambles because I focus on positive future things when I'm stressed and we're not focusing on art career because it's tax season and I'm stressed about it for no reason.

So basically; I'm coping by re-writing my entire life plan for the fourth time this year...

In Jan I started to try to work out everything that was happening with my ex gf.

In Feb I officially ended it with her; I started writing my life similarly to my life plan before that but without her in the picture.

Then I decided I wanted to live alone and have an apartment and be single with just my platonic life partnership which works well for us because we're both aro-ace so we're a wattpad fake dating without romantic attraction in undertones and instead me telling her I still have feelings for my straight ex that I'm trying to suppress and her saying how glad she is that she doesn't experience any of either and me crying in grey/demi aroace.

And now that I've had the meltdown on Mother's Day where I realised that I definitely still want to be a parent and that it's definitely a priority and would be something I'm actually always low key wanting and I didn't mind being pregnant in the past and I'm okay with the idea and reality of my life if I get pregnant again and if I can actually carry to term and what having a bio child means for my body but also for my life and lifestyle.

So now I have to consider housing again and what I want and need there; how much it would financially cost us to have a 2-3 adult home and then how much it would cost with a baby/babies (two of my previous pregnancies were multiples) and what our life could look like with that.

But also; then it leads to potential sperm donors (I actually already have a very specific friend whom I would like to ask… but I'll see where we all end up in a few years). And then also what my partner and I have to consider when we start talking to others about house sharing and co parenting... I actually wouldn't mind co-parenting with one of the people I'm like 'yeah he would be an excellent sperm donor' because it's someone whom I know really well and would absolutely trust with children and co-parenting.

Granted; this future kid is basically guaranteed to be neurodivergent. Like I'm likely to pass on autism and adhd and every potential friend we've talked to about being our donor in the future has also had either or both autism/adhd.

We're using a friend as a sperm donor because it'll be easier to get their medical info long term or as things come up and because it's easier to talk about the experiences and co-parenting agreements or ending parental rights and legal things (we had a friend who previously volunteered and is still a consideration tbh, he doesn't ever want kids, he's been very clear about that, he doesn't feel he has the personality and traits to be the kind of parent he feels kids should have and he'd rather be an uncle to kids. And I admire him for that maturity and also his confidence in me and my partner in our parenting potential).

But also; I want to be pregnant and have a baby as someone with a nervous system disorder and disabilities. So I have to factor not just maternity clothes and normally pregnancy aids; I have to factor in that I may need extra mobility aids and I'll probably need to change my pregnancy pain management because my current pain management is not pregnancy safe (aka; I can't apply peppermint essential oil straight to my skin knowing it's a dreadful idea but fuck it it numbs me just enough or use boiling water baths and the hottest of heat packs).

I have some ideas of how to deal with it (I had an 'Oh god am I pregnant' moment pre-pandemic so I was preparing for a wheelchair pregnancy); so I'm aware of some things that will make that easier.

But I'm also really sulky because the rollator I want is so expensive and I won't have the money for a while... but I'm aware what I'm working towards getting now. Good news tho, I have a wheelchair that currently fits me because I gained weight bc of T and the wheelchair that I got a few years back that was too big actually fits me now 😅.