#maybe my mom will remember to help me start therapy again

[justablah56]

I want to go home

[scarletlizzard]

Part 2: Remembering

Sessions Series

Pairing: psychiatrist Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: therapy, paranoia, mentions of mental illness, stalker, little cigarettes and drinking at the end

Masterlist

Current Fall 2018

"How did you sleep?" Wanda asks as she sits in front of you. You shrug, putting your hands in the pocket of your hoodie.

"Not too great. I uh, I sometimes have these dreams. Nightmares really, about that night." You swallow hard and look at the breathtaking woman in front of you. Even casual, in a yellow sweater and jeans, she would always be the most beautiful woman in the room. You blush at your own thoughts.

"You said you don't remember everything about that night?" She asks, you nod. "I believe you're blocking it out, mentally. Suppressing a trauma so hard you can't get yourself to open back up about it."

"So you believe me?"

"Of course, I believe you." Her tone is wavering.

"Every time I have one of these dreams, it reveals little pieces to me," you lean forward. "Maybe I can remember who it was, or more about them."

"But they were wearing a mask?" Wanda asks, making a note. You nod.

"They spoke to me, though.. I'm not sure. Sometimes they feel so close," you sigh, shaking your head. Wanda is still writing.

"And what did your shadow say to you?"

"They told me to run."

Wanda is silent for a moment, her eyes searching yours for something. Did she really believe you? When she had a list of your mental disorders and police forms at her fingertips?

"When your shadow told you to run," She stands and looks to the fire that was burning behind her in the fireplace. Her hands held behind her back. "What did you feel in the moment? What was your first thought?"

"I-I didn't know what to feel. Panic? Fear?" Your cheeks heat up, as you think back to the haunting voice. You were almost too embarrassed to speak. "But after, after the fear sunk in it felt.. exhilarating."

Wanda smiles at the fire, her back still to you. "So in your fear you felt, excitement. For what, why?" She asks thoughtfully, and you're thankful she still had her back to you.

You had thought about this a long time, every day. Why? "My life is the same, every day. The routines, the job, the same bottle of wine. Everything. You know I used to paint?" You ask Wanda. She turns to look at you.

"Really?" She asks with a smile, sitting back down.

"I had some work in an art gallery actually, in the city. Back when I felt.. more alive," you sigh again, looking into her emerald eyes.

"What made you stop?"

"My mom got sick, I had to take care of her. Then she died and I moved here and.. things were never the same."

"Your OCD intensified, essentially trapping yourself in your daily routines."

"That's how it feels, yes," you reply with a nod. Wanda reaches her hand out to rest on your knee. Your skin ignites under her touch.

"We'll bring you back," Wandas words are sure, you find yourself resting your hand on top of hers.

***

Summer 2017

You ran throughout your house, footsteps following close behind you. Before you can close the door to your bedroom, a strong hand reaches out, hitting the wood hard and swinging it wide open. You fall to the ground, heart racing, chest moving rapidly as you crawl backwards. Your shadow steps closer, taking 4 heavy steps towards you.

Another head tilt down at you, examining you. Behind the mask, under the hood, red strands of hair peak out.

***

Current Fall 2018

You stared at the brunette in front of you, a playful glint in her eye. "What?" She asks, leaning forward.

It had been a couple of weeks since your sessions with Wanda had started. Your anxiety had taken a backseat, and the compulsive thoughts in your head were easing. The two of you had even been flirting back and forth even, lingering stares and touches.

Wanda knew it was unprofessional. You knew it wasn't right. But neither of you couldn't help it. Each time she touched you, you felt your skin ignite. Each crooked smile ran up your spine with a shiver of pleasure. You look at her hands and count 4 rings between the two of them.

"Nothing, I really shouldn't say," you chuckle to yourself and sit back against the couch. Wanda grins, twirling one of the rings on her finger.

"No point in being shy now, Y/N. We practically know each others whole lives at this point," She says casually and mirrors you, leaning back in her chair. You think about her words.

"Actually, I don't know much about you, Wanda. I mean, I know some details, but you seem to have the upper hand."

She chuckles and lifts out a hand as if offering to you, "Ask away."

"Where are you from? I notice on some of your words, there's an accent." There's a blush on your face as you think of the way she says your name, her tongue sharp.

"Ah, you caught that, huh? I was born in Sokovia. I've lived here most of my life, though, the American accent kind of snuck in," Wanda thinks fondly of her home, it makes you smile.

"Do you visit often?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Last year, I had to go home for quite a while to help out my brother, Pietro. He got himself into some trouble," Wanda sighs and shakes her head. "We're twins," she smiles.

"Twins! Wow, I'd love to see a picture of the two of you sometime." You think of Wanda being a twin, not being able to imagine he was anything like her. She nods and crosses her legs.

"I'll see if I can find one for your next session," She says with a smile. You nod and smile back politelty.

"What did you do before all this?" You ask her and point to the room around you.

"I lived in the city for a while, actually. But I found something more... worthwhile here." Wanda grins, goosebumps on your arm arise.

There's a comfortable silence, and the fire behind her crackles softly.

"Tell me more about your art," Wanda says, a glimmer in her eye and a warm smile on her face.

"I wasn't good, by any means. But I wasn't bad. I was creative, if anything," you laugh as you think back to your paintings. "There is one hung still, I think, at the gallery I told you about. It's my favorite one. My last one."

"What was it?"

You find yourself laughing hysterically as you think of the painting, leaving Wanda confused. She leans forward to rest a hand on your knee.

You start to sob at her touch.

You think of the large painting that hangs in a gallery. People passing by not realizing it would foreshadow your own current state.

"It's of a beautiful woman.." You speak between cries.

"A woman running from her own shadow."

***

Summer 2017

"What do you want from me? Just leave me alone!" You shout at the figure standing above you, watching as they shake their head.

The shadow kneels down, a gloved hand reaching up to brush their thumb across your lips. Their eyes are hidden behind the white faceless mask, yet you can feel their gaze burning into you.

A spark of adrenaline and excitement fill your own.

"Game on," your shadow says.

***

Current Winter 2018

You awoke quickly in sweat covered sheets, thunder rumbling from outside. You rub your groggy eyes and reach for the nightstand to flick on the lamp. Your hand reaches for the notebook and pen you kept for this reason, and you began writing down your dream.

They were happening more frequently now. The details are becoming clearer each time. You had never felt so close. You were closing in on your shadow.

Yet, everything felt wrong. There was something you were missing. You read and re read the journal the rest of the night.

"How are things going with Wanda?" Natasha asks over lunch. She had invited you out today, hoping to hear some good news.

"Pretty great, actually," you smile at her, not telling her that you were still chasing your shadow. "I've actually started painting again." You look outside the window of the Cafe, seeing snow begin to fall.

"Have you really?" Natasha says in disbelief, but a smile on her face. "I knew this would be good for you! Almost two months and look at the progress you've made.." She beams at you, a guilty feeling rising inside of you.

"I'm having my Christmas party early this year, I'm going to spend actual Christmas at Yelenas this year. You'll be able to come, right?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," you smile, counting 4 snowflakes land on the window.

As you walk home from lunch, the snow beneath your feet crunches with every step. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing you had worn a warmer jacket, when suddenly you're aware of another set of steps from behind you.

You freeze, standing still. You inhale deeply, then exhale, and slowly turn around... to nothing. Empty air besides the light snow that stuck to the ground below.

Your hand reaches for your phone, dialing Wandas number. "Hello?" She answers on the 4th ring.

"Wanda.. can I come see you?"

"Do you need me to meet you somewhere?"

You look around, still seeing no one.

"No, I'll come to you."

You finish the walk home and grab your notebook and a warmer jacket before driving over to Wandas. When you get there, she's standing on the porch waving to you.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" She asks worridly, putting her arm around you and leading you into the warmth of her home. Wanda gets a fire going and watches as you sit on the floor in front of it. Instead of questioning it, she sits next to you, her warm body pressed next to you.

"What if it isn't real?" You finally admit, staring into the red and orange flames.

"What if what isn't real?" Wanda asks, looking at the notebook you clutched to your chest.

"My shadow," you whisper, feeling Wandas hand on your back. "You told me you believed me.. what do you believe?"

There is a silence between the two of you while Wanda sighs. She knew you would eventually ask this question.

"I believe that the mind is an extremely powerful thing. It's capable of persuasion and delusions. It can hide the truth from you.." she trails off, tears fall from your eyes.

She didn't believe your shadow was real.

"You believe... that I believe it's real. Right?" You ask and turn to her. Wanda nods slowly.

All this time spent chasing and running, you were tired. How many innocent people would have to get hurt before you gave up? How many more lies would you have to tell yourself and others?

You held out the notebook to Wanda. Her fingers brush against yours as she takes it from you and opens it up.

"My dreams, of a faceless shadow. That's all it is anymore. I'm done chasing it."

The rest of November passes quickly into December. You were back to your routine, ignoring the paranoid delusions of your mind. You continued your sessions with Wanda, trying to figure out why you had imagined up this person. You took medication. You still locked all the doors and windows. You painted. You dreamed.

***

Summer 2017

When the words came out of your shadows' mouth, you lift your leg, kicking them hard in the stomach and onto their back. You're able to run past them into the hallway, but you're quickly knocked down. Your shadow climbs on top of you, pinning your hands to the floor and straddling your stomach.

The two of you breathe heavily, adrenaline coursing your veins. "Such a pretty little mouse.." The shadow whispers.

***

Winter 2018

The party has long started by the time you walk in, a bottle of rum in your hand. The house is filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces. People in ugly Christmas sweaters, some in just red or green. You look for Natasha and wish her a Happy Christmas, along with a hug.

"I brought rum," you smile, holding up the bottle.

"Yes! Ugh, you know this is my favorite thank you," she laughs and hugs you again, clearly has already had a few. You decide to catch up with her, taking a few shots and pouring a cup of rum. After a while, the cup is empty, and you find yourself sweating in the heated house, filled with warm bodies.

"I'm gonna step outside," you say to Natasha, who is all but preoccupied with the girl in her lap.

You step out front, sighing in relief as the frigid air hits your skin.

"Alright, there?" A voice sounds, you turn to see Wanda standing in the driveway, leaning against her car. "Nasty habit, I know. I usually only smoke when I drink." She holds up the cigarette, letting out a puff of smoke.

You walk over, soaking in her appearance. "I'm alright.. alcohol goes straight to my head," You chuckle and stand in front of her. The alcohol also boldening you to reach out and take the cigarette from her, putting it between your lips. Wanda watches with playful eyes, putting a hand in her pocket. You take a slow drag, blowing into the air between you and handing it back to her.

Wanda wets her lips, shaking her head as she takes it back from you. "You're something else, you know that?" She says in a husky voice. You can smell a hint of vodka and mint coming from her as she leans closer. Your hands rest on her chest, tugging on her jacket. A familiar excitement swells in your chest.

The cigarette is tossed into the wet snow, her hands moving to wrap around your lower back. "I'm probably crazy," you whisper to her, a smirk on your face. Wanda chuckles and leans closer.

"I can deal with crazy," She whispers back, taking your bottom lip in between her teeth. Your blood runs hot, and you let out a small moan at the feeling. Wanda wastes no time connecting her lips to yours, both of you in familiar territory as your tongues sloppily twist together. Her grip is stronger than you remember as she pulls you against her chest.

"Your place?" You mumble into the kiss, not wanting to fully part. Wands hums and continues to kiss you. You feel her lips pull up into another crooked smile.

"Let's go," Wanda says after she finally pulls herself away from your lips, her green eyes darker than you had ever seen them before.

Goosebumps cover your skin. Everything in your body tells you to run. The feeling of your shadow was looming over the two of you.

You look to the house, then to the gorgeous brunette in front of you. There was no doubt in your mind that you would be going home with her.

[hummingbird24220]

Loving Sharp Tongues, Sharper Blades! Please add more to it! Maybe with Sir Crocodile's hook, since the swordsmith is meeting Your for therapy sessions...

Helloooo, yes! Absolutely. Sorry it took so long!. I also had a request for more yonko - so mashed the two requests together. Probs some OOC - i havent met Big Mom or Kaido yet so i went off clips and vibes~

Enjoy!

Sharp Tongues, Sharper Blades (Part 3)

One piece x Swordsmith!Reader

You didn’t intend to meet Big Mom.

But then again, you never intended to meet any Yonko, and yet you’d somehow collected them like cursed Pokémon.

It started with a blade.

A singing one.

Literally singing.

You were wandering a market on the edge of Totto Land—undercover, just passing through, you told yourself—when you felt it.

A sword. Loud. Off-key. Belting opera like it had once been a soprano in a tragic musical.

You tried to walk past it.

You really did.

But then it shrieked: 🎵“I’M STILL SHAAARP, AND I’LL CUT YOUR HEAAART, WITH A BLADE OF REGR—ET!”🎵

And you paused.

Because holy hell, that was the most theatrical steel you’d ever heard.

You turned slowly to see a woman—one of Big Mom’s sons, probably—gesturing flamboyantly with a rapier shaped like a treble clef. The sword sparkled in the sun and winked at you.

Yes. It winked.

“Hey, you! You’ve got the vibe of a tuning fork with trust issues,” the blade said directly into your brain.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“HELP ME. She makes me harmonize with her attacks. I haven’t had a solo in years.”

Your eye twitched.

Of course Big Mom’s children owned a musical sword. Of course it was being emotionally repressed. Of course you were the only one cursed enough to hear it complain in mezzo-soprano.

Before you could make a clean getaway, an enormous shadow loomed behind you.

You didn’t need to turn.

You knew that aura. That thunderous, humming vibration of sheer overwhelming presence.

Big Mom.

You turned anyway. Slowly. Respectfully. Like a man about to propose to a bear.

She towered over the market like an opera house in a hurricane, homies bouncing and flowers warbling nervously at her heels.

“Well well,” she said, voice like honey laced with razors. “What’ve we got here? A little blade-listener?”

You smiled too wide. “Ma’am. Good afternoon. Just—admiring the musical talents of your child’s sword.”

The sword screamed in your head: “Tell her I want to release an album. I HAVE RANGE.”

Big Mom cackled. “Ohhh, they told me about you. Mihawk’s little chatterbox. The one who made Shanks cry tears of oil!”

“That—was not the goal, ma’am.”

She leaned closer, eyes shining. “Tell me. What do my weapons say?”

You swallowed. “Which ones?”

“All of them.”

Oh no.

There were too many.

Axes that sounded like angry sopranos. Blades that told riddles. A cannonball sword that once fell in love with a piano.

Too many.

You winced as the chorus hit:

🎵“WE’RE HER ARMY, HER SUGAR AND STING—” “SHOOT FIRST, ASK CAKE LATER!” “I’M AN EDGED INSTRUMENT, DARLING.” “I REMEMBER BLOOD THAT TASTED LIKE JAM.”

You cracked.

“They’re loud, ma’am. And very into show tunes.”

Big Mom howled with laughter.

“Loud’s good! Loud means living!” She patted you on the head with a hand the size of a dinner table. “You stay for dinner. Mama likes you.”

You did not want to stay for dinner.

But you also did not want to become dinner.

So you stayed.

Dinner was… opera-themed. There was choreography. The weapons clapped.

And when you finally escaped—hours later, face sticky with some sort of singing syrup—you swore you’d never get involved with Yonko again.

You were, of course, lying to yourself.

-

Kaido was not subtle.

Neither was his sword.

You were on an island shaped like a skull—bad sign number one—following a map drawn by a saber that “used to belong to a drunk with good taste.”

You’d hoped to grab some rare ore and dip.

What you got instead… was an earthquake disguised as a man.

Kaido.

In dragon form. Descending like the wrath of the heavens. Laughing like thunder.

You did what any sensible person would do.

You dove behind a boulder and prayed to the forge gods.

But your luck, as always, was trash.

Because Kaido spotted you and laughed. “Well well, what’s this? A little gremlin with soot on their cheeks and a hammer in their hand?”

You peeked up, terrified. “Just… passing through. Sorry. Wrong skull island.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Oi,” he growled. “You the one that talks to blades?”

“Maybe?” you said, halfway to fainting.

Then his sword—huge, jagged, pulsing with the energy of every battlefield ever—boomed inside your skull:

“YEEEEEEEAH, IT’S ME, BABY.”

You recoiled. “Why are you yelling?!”

“I ONLY SPEAK IN BATTLE MODE. I WAS FORGED IN A VOLCANO DURING A THUNDERSTORM. I EAT OTHER SWORDS FOR BREAKFAST.”

Kaido smirked. “He likes you.”

“HE TOLD ME TO HEADBUTT A TREE FOR WARM-UP.”

“Sounds about right.”

You took a deep breath. “Can I go now?”

Kaido shrugged. “Sure. But next time we meet, bring rum. And maybe arm wrestle my sword.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“IT’S ON.”

-

You shouldn’t have gone near Hachinosu.

But a cursed cutlass had begged you.

“She’s down there. Old. Dangerous. Doesn’t sleep. She remembers the Void Century.”

And you were a sucker for stories.

So you went.

You didn’t expect to run straight into Marshall D. Teach, drunk off victory, laughing like he was king of the graveyard.

“WELL WELL WELL! Lookie here, boys! It’s the famous sword-singer!”

You smiled weakly. “Not really famous. Very niche market.”

Blackbeard grinned with all his teeth. “What do my blades say, then?”

You closed your eyes.

And froze.

Because these swords didn’t scream.

They whispered.

Low, cold, careful.

“RUN,” one of them murmured.

“He’s collecting us,” another rasped. “To remember what he destroyed.”

“They scream in the dark. He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t care. We remember the deaths.”

You looked up slowly.

“…They’re scared of you.”

Teach just laughed harder. “GOOD. Means they work.”

You didn’t stay long.

You didn’t take a souvenir.

You just left.

And your own blade—quiet, kind, made by your hands—whispered gently:

“Don’t go near him again.”

You didn’t argue.

-

You were on your way back to the Sunny.

Your hair still smelled like Totto Land’s frosting fog, your shoulder ached from Kaido’s sword attempting a headbutt through its sheath, and your soul needed therapy after the Blackbeard Blade Choir of Doom.

You had officially had enough of Yonko and their sentient arsenals.

You just wanted your bed. Your tools. Zoro’s eye twitch. Sanji’s omelets. Luffy’s chaotic hugs. Maybe some juice. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, yes.

Because as you trudged through the burning sands of a shortcut island (thanks for the “shortcut,” Kaido’s sword), a familiar silhouette shimmered on the horizon.

Cape flapping. Cigar glowing.

Hook gleaming in the sun.

Crocodile.

You froze.

“Oh come on,” you groaned. “You’re not even a Yonko. Why are you here?”

He looked you over with that permanent expression of boredom and low-key murder. “You’re the sword whisperer.”

You raised a brow. “You’re the guy who lost to Luffy in a barrel, right?”

His eye twitched. “That was… circumstantial.”

Before you could bolt, your powers activated—unwanted, as always.

The hook spoke.

Not loud.

Not aggressive.

Just… sweet.

Warm, even.

“Please be careful. He doesn’t sleep well. He hides his pain behind coats and cigars and sandstorms.”

You blinked.

“…I’m sorry, are you—are you his hook?”

The hook gave off gentle grandma energy. “He pretends he’s meaner than he is. Deep down, he just wants someone to hold his coat for him when it’s too warm.”

You gawked. “Ma’am. You’re a murder hook.”

“And yet I’ve never once asked for blood,” it replied. “He oils me gently. Wraps me in silk at night. Calls me ‘asset’ but I know he means ‘companion.’”

You stared at Crocodile.

He stared back, completely unaware that you were listening to his hook confess like a lonely housewife.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding faintly suspicious.

“Depends,” you said slowly. “Do you have a name for your hook?”

He blinked. “No. It’s a weapon.”

The hook made a tiny offended sound.

“She deserves better,” you muttered.

“She?”

“I’ve decided.”

Crocodile frowned. “Did Mihawk drop you on your head or something?”

“No, but Yoru does say I slouch like a low-rank barbarian, so maybe.”

“…What?”

You sighed and stepped forward.

“Look. I don’t want to fight. I’m tired. I’ve been emotionally mauled by swords with superiority complexes, hung out with a Yonko who uses sesame oil on a Supreme Blade, and barely survived a tavern duel between Kikoku and Wado Ichimonji over who Zoro belongs to.”

“…What?”

You held up a hand. “Your hook is nice. That’s all I’m saying.”

Pause.

Then—

“You talked to my hook?”

“Yes.”

“What did it say?”

You hesitated. Then said softly, “That you need more sleep. And maybe… someone to hold your coat once in a while.”

The desert wind shifted.

He didn’t answer. But the twitch in his jaw wasn’t rage. It was something far more dangerous.

Emotion.

You slowly started walking backwards.

“Well. Good chat. Gotta go. Straw Hats probably set something on fire by now. You know how it is.”

“Wait.”

You froze.

“…What.”

Crocodile looked at you. Really looked. And then, with a voice like dry earth cracking after rain:

“Thanks.”

The hook whispered, contentedly:

“He won’t say it twice.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

And bolted.

—

You didn’t stop running until the Sunny was in sight.

You stumbled onboard like a lost sailor returning from the sea.

“GUYS,” you gasped. “I’ve reached the final level. The true horror.”

Luffy looked up from a barrel. “You saw another Yonko?!”

“No,” you wheezed. “Worse.”

Sanji blinked. “Worse than Kaido?”

Zoro raised a brow. “Worse than Shanks’ sword trying to vibe-check your aura?”

You nodded. Gravely.

“I found a sentient hook. And she’s a sweetheart.”

Nami: “…You need a nap.”

Luffy: “You need meat.”

Zoro: “You need help.”

You collapsed face-first onto the deck, whispering into the wood:

“She called me ‘child.’ Like a warm murder grandma.”

The crew let you rest.

You’d earned it.

And somewhere, far across the desert, a certain warlord stood silently beside a cliff’s edge.

His coat flapped gently in the wind.

His hook gleamed.

And for the first time in a long, long time… he smiled.

-

The Sunny was quiet that night. Not silent—Luffy was snoring somewhere on the mast like a human foghorn, and Usopp was mumbling in his sleep about sea kings in tutus—but calm. Gentle.

After the chaos of the past few weeks, it was… perfect.

You sat cross-legged on the deck, wrapped in a light blanket, cradling a hot drink. The moonlight gleamed off your cup, and the ocean whispered like it was trying to soothe you.

You’d told the crew the short version at dinner—Yonko. Swords. Shanks. Trauma. Mangoes.

But now, with only a few of them lingering around, you figured it was time to drop the full tea.

Sanji sat nearby, peeling apples with terrifying precision.

Nami leaned on the railing, eyes narrowed in amused disbelief.

Chopper was curled up with a book, tail twitching.

Robin sipped her tea like a queen watching a tragic play.

Zoro leaned against the mast, arms crossed and mostly ignoring you… until you got to him.

“So,” you said, cracking your knuckles. “Yonko tally so far: Shanks—grin too bright, sword too high. Big Mom—her swords sing, I nearly got forced into a barbershop quartet. Kaido—his sword screamed battle cries in all caps. And Blackbeard—well, his swords whisper like haunted dolls and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sanji blinked. “You went near four Emperors of the Sea and lived?”

You sipped your drink. “Against my will, mostly.”

Nami shook her head. “I can’t tell if you’re lucky or cursed.”

“Why not both?” you muttered.

Then, after a beat, “Also I ran into Crocodile.”

That got Robin’s attention.

Her cup froze halfway to her lips. “...He’s still alive?”

“Hook, cigar, and existential brooding all intact,” you said, suddenly remembering the soft, maternal whisper of that metal murder claw.

Robin’s eyes narrowed. “Shame.”

The temperature dropped just slightly.

You gave her a small, sympathetic glance. “His hook was... actually really sweet.”

Sanji slowly set his apple down. “Sweet. His hook.”

“Swaddled in silk at night sweet. Grandma vibes. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Robin was quiet for a long moment. Then said softly, “He left a nation in ruins.”

You nodded. “I know. I wasn’t kind. I just… listened.”

She didn’t answer. But you noticed she didn’t touch her tea again.

The moment passed. Heavy. Real.

You let it hang there before gently standing and turning toward the sword rack across the deck.

Specifically… him.

Wado Ichimonji.

Still quietly hanging at Zoro’s side, pristine as ever.

You took a slow step forward.

Zoro glanced down. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t answer. Not really.

You just crouched—carefully, respectfully—and pressed your forehead to the sheath like an old friend seeing another after years of war.

“…I missed you,” you whispered.

Wado’s voice reached your mind like a soft tide. Familiar. Grounded. A voice that had once walked with ghosts and now kept steady steps beside a swordsman too stubborn to stay down.

“It’s been loud without you.”

You exhaled shakily.

“You don’t scream.”

“No need.”

“You don’t brag.”

“I don’t need to.”

You smiled, eyes shut, hand resting against the scabbard like a quiet prayer.

“You’re the only one who’s calm. Even surrounded by chaos.”

“I have to be. He needs me to be.”

Zoro cleared his throat. “Are you seriously hugging my sword?”

You didn’t move. “Shut up. Let me have this.”

Zoro blinked down at you, baffled and slightly red.

Sanji, from across the deck, smirked. “Jealous, moss-head?”

Zoro ignored him. “You’re being weird.”

You finally looked up at him, eyes sincere. “You don’t know what it’s like out there. The other swords? They’re insane. Yours? Yours are… home.”

Zoro’s brows drew together, confused by the sudden emotion. He opened his mouth.

But Wado beat him to it:

“Tell him I’m proud.”

You blinked. “Of what?”

“Of how far he’s come.”

You turned your head up to Zoro, gentle smile curling on your lips. “Wado’s proud of you.”

Zoro stilled. Just for a second. Eyes flickering with something that wasn’t anger or frustration or cocky smugness.

Just… quiet understanding.

“…Tch,” he muttered, looking away. “He’s just a sword.”

“He’s your sword,” you said, standing slowly. “And he’s been with you since the beginning. He’s proud. And he should be.”

Zoro didn’t say anything else.

But he didn’t stop you when you brushed your fingers gently over the sheath one last time like a farewell.

—

Later that night, as the stars glimmered overhead, you lay in your hammock with your arms folded behind your head and your sword beside you, quiet and content.

No voices screamed.

No blades argued.

Just a soft hum of steel breathing easy again.

And somewhere across the ship, tucked safely against Zoro’s hip, Wado Ichimonji whispered into the night:

“Welcome home.”

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Choi Yeonjun Perspective Reading

Disclaimer: No facts, all allegations here, just my interpretation of the cards and energy. This boy has to be the most fascinating idol I have done so far.

Okay, now time to finally get to his perspective reading. His was one of the first I was supposed to do, but got sidetracked by other idols. Now, his last couple of readings has made me highly interested in what I can get here. I am lowkey nervous about what I will get. So, the song that came to me was Glamorous by Fergie. This song selection makes sense from the energy he has been giving me. He seems to love the fame and money. The lifestyles of the rich and famous, that is a song too right, but yeah. He is a Venus Leo, so that does make sense. Okay, we are going into the Dark Mirror first. Here we go.

Alright, this is a confusing spread. He isn't easy to open up and communicate. I had to sit with these cards for a bit and still a bit confused. Well, we start with the artificial heart, umm not a great card to start with, like starting with that card isn't great. He is a bit cold and detached, a bit fake may I say. This energy can come from someone who has been victimized, but he isn't showing me that energy in this spread yet.

The Calling the Storm card is quite interesting. It is like he brings chaos to him, or he welcomes it. I just see that card and hear, bring it, that is what I hear when I look at that card. Once again, the one card has blind folds, it is like he deludes himself or blinds himself, maybe shields himself from things. But also he is numb to sh**. Like none of this phases him. It seems he wants to forget his past self, but he does cling to it and there is a sense of him wanting to protect and comfort the person he was in the past. I am getting whoever he was in the past he isn't that person anymore. Now, that can be said about a lot of people, but there is some significant baggage he has of the past.

Ugh, I wish I didn't pull the last card, omg, this sucks. So, I got the Alone in the World card and the person on the card is naked and vulnerable. He could have been put in compromising positions. So, I am being pulled back to Jungwon's reading, he had this card in reversed and I remember saying, he wouldn't be susceptible to shady stuff, because he is well connected and protected. I don't feel Yeonjun has anyone to protect him, like him, which is why he was put in those situations.

I know he seems close with his Mom, but if he had a good support system. I wouldn't be seeing this card, just saying, no facts. The card on the deck has the number 6, which reminds me of the 6 of Wands, which is success and recognition. To get that recognition. You got to do some things. If you know what I am hinting at. I wish I didn't keep getting these sexualized messages, but whatever I can't get anything else with that card. Alright, he needs the conscious healing deck now.

So, he got two cards that state, decomposing shame and reclaim the power of your body. This gives me he needs to take his power and his body back. I can see shame for what has been done to him or what he has done. They may be asking him to use dancing as a form of therapy, oooh interesting message, that would be cool for him. I think using dancing could help him heal in some sense. There is also some disconnection with him, so he may need to realign himself as well. I am getting, his body is a temple, respect it.

I am also getting. I think I got this for Jungkook's reading. That he should go back packing and go for a hike to clear his mind. I am also getting he should do some breathing work. To take time for himself to just breath. This could be hard for him though. If you have trauma. It is hard to just step back and sit with your thoughts, I get it. Just channeling the messages.

Once again in this spread, they are stressing for him to go out in nature, this can help silence his mind, or just bring some sort of peace to him in some way. I think the quiet, stillness of nature can really help heal him, the sounds, the smells, it will help bring him back to reality and what is truly important. I am also getting he shouldn't fight what may have happened, but to accept what has happened, it may be hard, but it is the only way he can find peace.

There are memories of the past that haunts him, but there is also lessons he can learn from it. I am getting, to not let these patterns repeat, but it is like it sticks with him. So, I got the message imprinting, had to google that sh**. I am guessing this means that he has emulated an older figure's habits during a critical period of his life that could affect his behavior today. It gives me well they do it, so then it is okay I do it, or I should accept this behavior, because they do it. I feel there is fear of these people. Fear of letting it out, lots of shame. But his guides are saying, he has to work on building his confidence, but I feel the company will find ways to break that sh** down, so good luck to him to have the ability to gain confidence after what he may have allegedly been through. Okay, now ending this with Tarot.

Okay, so with the High Priestess. He tries to keep all this crap hidden. He is private on a physical level, because girl, got the information energetically. But I get it, I know he has secrets, but I don't know the specifics, so he is going to keep that hidden. But this is showing me there are a lot of hidden secrets. I hear secrets he will take to the grave. With the 8 of Pentacles and Capricorn energy. He is about that work. I also am getting he didn't deal with all that bs to not get where he wants to go as well. I also see him drowning himself in work, so he doesn't have to face things.

Also, he can be extremely loyal to people, even the shady company, and even if he dealt with some sort of abuse, he will still be loyal, because they gave him an opportunity. He gives me such Usher vibes, not sure what you think of him, but he comes off as an enabler. Yes, they may have dealt with abuse, but at some point. You got to stop the cycle, but once again, he seems paralyzed by fear, same vibe I get from Usher as well. They fear these people too much to do anything about it. Like on one end, he is enabling this sh**, on the other he is scared af.

Damn man, this may have been the most interesting reading for me so far. Dude is a complex person with lots of inner struggles. His life seems complicated. On one end he can come off as a bad person, but on the other end he got caught up in shady stuff, hard to break away from that when you lack a strong support system. This reminds me of Usher's situation to. Hard not to get coerced when you have a crappy support system around you.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 66 (Going to Therapy)

Heather and Conrad scheduled their first appointment with Dr. Supriya Delgato two weekends later, when Ash was again back in the city with the Landgraabs. The almost-four-year-old was none the wiser to what they'd just gone through, with Heather's resilience leading their way through the fog.

They arrived together to St. Sims Hospital on Friday evening. Licensed to deal with family relationships, Dr. Delgato greeted them with a warm smile. "Welcome," she said. "I want to start by saying it's brave to be here, to be willing to have these kinds of discussions."

"Thank you, Dr. Delgato. And my mother said to say hello."

"You know our therapist?"

Heather shrugged. "She met my mother years ago and her son Pierce is friends with my sister, Hazel, but I really only know the Delgatos through the clinic."

(Pierce Delgato is also married to Carlton Bell, a younger brother of Heather's brother-in-law, Kris, Holly's husband.)

"Small towns are like that, Mr. Gordon. I assure you I'm an impartial participant in your healing journey."

"I feel like I'm on the other side of the table in the interrogation room at the station," he admitted.

"I don't want either of you to feel like this is an interrogation. We're just having a conversation, trying to unlock things that maybe you've been unable to say to yourself. Why don't you start by telling me how you two met."

"I came out to interview her about a case at my last precinct," said Conrad with a half smile. "A month or so after the investigation ended we ran into each other again."

"He scheduled a vet appointment at my clinic four hours out of the way," she cut in. "My sister pushed us together, gratefully. I was afraid I wasn't ready after my last relationship with my son's father."

"What made you sure you were ready for a full commitment?"

"Conrad did." Heather smiled. "He makes me feel safe, and he centers me when I'm spiraling. My son had an accident not long ago, and I don't know how either of us would have gotten through it without him. I have to stop myself from thinking he's a better father to my son than his own father because it's not fair to Malcolm to have to live up to the man he is. Before Conrad, my romantic history is...it's not great."

"It's not that bad," said Conrad. "So you dated Malcolm Landgraab and pined for your best friend."

"I almost slept with Everett when I found out I was pregnant with Ash," she admitted. "And when I was in high school I was so sad he wouldn't choose me I flirted with his father!"

"Sometimes when we're young we can't control our emotions, and we don't yet know how we feel about ourselves or the world," said Dr. Delgato. "Have you ever talked with a therapist before, Heather?"

She shook her head. "I meant to, but I'm always busy, and my family and I are so close. My brother, River, can always be counted on to tell me what I need to hear."

Conrad had never heard either story from her past before, but neither could change how he saw her. "Your brother says you think you're broken, but I've never seen that."

"What do you see, Conrad?" asked Dr. Delgato.

"I see an amazing mother who runs her own business and loves with her whole heart, so when she gets hurt, she puts walls up."

"But you helped me tear them down."

"And what about you, Conrad? When you're hurting, how do you respond?"

He nodded. "I put walls up."

"And your fears of fatherhood stem from the deaths of your parents?"

"My mom, mostly. She died when I was fifteen, but she was sick for almost five years before that."

"He worries something could happen to him and his child would have to grieve him," said Heather. "I don't know how to talk to him about it because I can't think about losing him, either."

"I felt cheated for time," he admitted. "Before I got my anger under control, I would find it so easy to get mad at her for leaving me, then mad at the world again when I remembered how much she didn't want to die. The thought of my kid ever going through what I went through scares me more than dying."

"It's interesting you've forged such strong bonds with Heather and her son despite this fear. Surely both would be just as devastated as your own child if they lost you."

Heather nodded emphatically. "We would be," she agreed. "Ash sees his father one or two weekends a month in San Myshuno. Sometimes Conrad's with him more than I am, if I work late. His name's on school records so he can pick him up from daycare. He knows how to get him to sleep when he wants to stay up late with us, and he makes his favourite spaghetti with tomato sauce exactly how he likes it."

"I love every minute I spend with Ash," he said, a proud smile spreading across his lips. "He's smart as hell. Mastered every game on his Wabbit Tablet already, and he's so good with Gord and the cats. Sometimes it does feel like I'm basically a father to him, but I don't make decisions about his life. It's not my place, and I would never take that responsibility from his parents. Ash and Heather both have so many people around them. My family was just my parents and me, but Heather's family is huge, and Ash has his father's family, too. If anything happened to me, they'd never be as alone as I felt."

"We are your family, Conrad. Me, Ash, and my family, too. River loves you like the brother he never had, especially after your advice to read The Giving Tree worked getting Michael to sleep."

"It wasn't advice, it was an idea. I liked the story, Ash liked the story, it sorta felt like an easy thing to try."

(They went to therapy feeling very flirty because they kissed right before I set this up, and unflirty Heather autonomously blew him that kiss.)

"Conrad, correct me if I'm wrong, but say, hypothetically, you couldn't see Ash anymore," suggested Dr. Delgato. "How would you feel?"

"Devastated."

"There's no shame in feeling like you're not ready to be a parent, but do you think your desire to form family attachments and your fear of having children might contradict each other? Maybe it's an old idea you've held on to because it's comforting when things are consistent, especially when you went through so much upheaval when your mother was sick. But you can't stop other people's grief. If you really think about what you want, is it to limit the number of loved ones who would miss you, or are you afraid to admit you want the family you felt was robbed from you, knowing everything you know about how devastating losing family can be?"

Conrad considered the question. "You are good, Dr. Delgato. When Heather told me she was pregnant, I wasn't sure I was ready, but when we lost the baby...I want a family with Heather, but I don't want to spend every day of my kid's life hung up on the worst case scenario. I know how this sounds, but Heather's mind jumped through a flaming blue hoop to talk to the dead about ambrosia without a single fear, and I don't know how she does it. My mother was a high school guidance counselor before she got sick, and the dead mentors..."

"Conrad, I didn't see her," Heather promised. "We don't even know if we'll need to travel again, but I could go-"

"No. I want to face everything I haven't let myself deal with," he said. "I want to do this for us, and for our family. It's just a lot for me after keeping it all to myself for so long."

Dr. Delgato smiled warmly. "Sounds to me like you took the Ambrosia Society up on their challenge! And you're doing it together, how fantastic. My daughter Evie looked into it." The doctor seemed struck by a sudden idea. "Have you summoned the Grim Reaper as part of the challenge yet?"

They shook their heads. "It seems wrong when Ash is home," said Heather. "We're doing it for him, but we don't want to scare him. And Conrad...the whole thing has to do with death. I understand why it scares him so much."

"I think you should consider talking to Grim about death. He certainly knows the subject. Both of you should summon him and keep working together on the challenge. If you like, we could schedule another appointment in a month or two if you still need someone to talk to, but you two are one of the strongest couples I've talked to in a while. You went through a terrible thing together, but it's obvious you find strength in each other. Hold on to that and I think you'll get through this."

They thanked Dr. Delgato, and Heather looked at Conrad nervously when they walked in the door. "Ash doesn't get home until Sunday and our Spooky Day party is tomorrow night - should we summon Grim tonight, maybe?"

Conrad didn't want to disappoint her, but he still wasn't ready. "Maybe tomorrow morning, before we get set up for the party," he bargained. She nodded.

"Tomorrow morning."

Though he felt as though he'd made an important realization with Dr. Delgato, Conrad was still too cautious to rush into facing death. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Would a real counselor advise you to talk to the dead? Not like this! But The Sims is surreal and I technically turned the ambrosia quest into a team activity/bonding experience, so it made sense to me that she'd be like "This is great, go further, be a team!"

[lonieene]

TW: ANGST

It was a tiring day, a witch was terrifying a random town Sam and Dean managed to kill her after 4 days of intense research

Castiel and Crowley were in the bunker waiting for the brothers for "group therapy session" which is basically just giving the status of the current situation of all 4 so they don't cause another disaster that could cause the end of the world (again)

But then instead of just walking to the center room they heard a heated argument between Dean and Sam and went over to see what the fight was about

Dean was saying something about how hard it is to feel like you're in the background and how hard it is to be "disposable" or something, Sam didn't seem to be paying much attention until Dean said "Well, you wouldn't understand, you're everyone's favorite" right after saying this, the older Winchester looked at the younger one and instantly fell silent. Sam looked at him with a disgust that not even Crowley had seen in his eyes yet

"Seriously Dean?"

The silence was deafening

"Well... if the hat fits"

Silence again, until Sam started laughing, not a happy laugh, but a laugh of pain

"You've got to be FUCKING with me, right Dean? You really think I'm someone's favorite? Oh pleeeeease"

Dean's eyes widen a litte

"Damn man EVERYONE CHOOSES YOU OVER ME"

Dean, Cas and Crowley all raised an eyebrow at the same time

"Oh so now you'r going to pretend you don't notice? mom has only wanted to know about you since you got back, all our "friends" were looking for you before they even remembered me, Cas and you have a "deeper bond" and FUCK even CROWLEY prefers you"

Dean genuinely looked surprised, Crowley and Cas looked at each other trying to think if the statement was true

"I mean haha, this whole bromance thing of yours wasn't enough for you!? he CHOSE you to be with him, he enjoyed being with YOU, even though I was the one who gave him human blood for the first time!

Eeven though I was the one who try to to help Cas when he's down Cas still chooses YOU, even if I'm the one trying to be kind and understanding Mom still chooses YOU, even if i'm the best I can EVERYONE PREFERS YOU!"

A painful relationship falls upon everyone in the room, maybe... Sam is right...

"And you know what? this whole unloved person syndrome is starting to get on my nerves, because, guess what? I AM THE UNLOVED PERSON, the only person besides you that I know would choose me IS THE FUCKING DEVIL, so shut the fuck up when you talk about being second choice, BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT, I AM"

With that, Sam leaves, slamming the door very hard, leaving a perplexed and genuinely guilty Cas, Crowley and Dean behind

[thecircularsystem]

You said you didn't experience stress or the other word with your diagnosis

Are you genuinely saying you don't experience stress with derealization or depersonalisation or dissociation?? I guess not everyone experiences it like me but you don't get distressed when your brain tries to convince you that you're not real? Do you experience denial? Doesn't that stress you out?

I'm sure that it's possible to live without stress but like, really?

Genuinely asking just shocked at the idea

Transcribed continuation of ask: To be clear I’m saying the cons of the dissociation and the other stuff don’t outweigh the pros of being a system? Like get there eventually sure I’d much prefer to get there eventually but idk from the offset? /End ID

Hey, thanks for the asks. I like discussing this a lot, as someone who experiences very little distress anymore over my system symptoms (lol). Fair warning, this post gets into a lot of trauma stuff. TW for descriptions of abuse and a bit of ideation discussion!

Here’s the kicker: I really don’t experience many symptoms anymore.

By the time I got diagnosed, I didn’t experience those nearly as much. I used to go into what I called dissociative fugue — stare at a wall time — for hours, and that was distressing. But that is far, far in my past now. I can distinctly remember the last time it happened, which was over 2 years ago at this point. I can’t tell you the last time I lost track of the fact that I’m a real, living, breathing person. That was when I had just started therapy, and since then, I don’t… feel it anymore. It’s not part of my experience.

When I first realized, “something weird is happening in my head,” I was definitely distressed… for about 5 minutes. Then my friend (abusive) told me she experienced the same exact thing, and so I was normal. I found… a lot of joy from my system after that. I convinced myself that my “characters” in my head were made up to take care of different stressful parts of my life, and I assumed everyone was sort of like this. Like, Wade did home life and Sierra did school life. Isn’t that what my Mom described, “being a different person at work than at home”?

So I didn’t experience distress over my symptoms. And, well, at the same time, I did. I lost time constantly, but I didn’t realize it was my system. I thought I was just an idiot. I was significantly depressed, but I figured that was… yknow. Depression. Not Trauma(tm) whispering in my brain. But that was it, and the thing is, I usually... forgot I had felt bad in the first place. After all, I was only depressed when Wade was out; Sierra was at school and she felt fine. So really, I was only depressed when I was at home, and even then, it only happened now and then, and was I really depressed? Naaaah.

It was like that for a long time. And then, we split our persecutor, and the Two Years of Blackout Memory happened, and then boy howdy were we distressed and dysfunctional. But again, I don't remember most of college -- I don't remember that distress and dysfunction. I remember it happened, and my fiance could definitely tell some stories (maybe @circulars-singlet has stuff they could say on this matter), but for the most part, I don't feel it anymore.

When I got my diagnosis, it was after moving out from my parents house. I'd been gone for about a half a year and living with my partner, who really helped me overcome a lot of my problems. They're the one who helped me the most, forcing me to get a therapist. Three weeks later, I'm diagnosed and getting weekly therapy.

And now, with three years under my belt... I don't know, like...

When I start to doubt I'm real, I roll my eyes and hug myself. I flick my nose. "If I'm not real, take that, asshole." When I start to dissociate, I have my partner there to help me come back relatively quickly, or I can ground myself fairly readily. It doesn't distress me because it's so normal now. Genuinely, my autism distresses me far more, I get so in my head about it.

The cons of my systemhood absolutely do not outweigh the pros. I am alive today because of these chucklefucks in my head. I am alive today because I have the ability to forget it all. I am alive today because I did not feel like it was happening to me.

And now I can recognize it was me, and I can breathe and acknowledge I'm safe. I can recognize I'm real, and that's okay. I can communicate readily with all my parts, and we function together as well as we can. When I do get distressed, we can handle it, and it happens so rarely due to DID things that I don't really find my DID to be distressing.

Instead, I get 14 other people helping me each day, which nobody else gets the benefit of in my life. Score! And hey, the amnesia means I get to relive some of my favorite things that I never knew were favorites. The dissociation means I can just... ignore bad stuff.

There's definitely worry. I won't pretend that EVERY OUNCE of distress is gone, and lord knows I am dysfunctional as hell. But...

It's still an incredibly good life, and I owe that life to my DID. It's not a disorder, dragging me down. It's a disorder built from necessity and survival. And I couldn't be more thrilled that I was strong enough to survive that.

Does that make sense?

[kissorkill16]

Mary: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Mary Inky moves in with her uncle, Theodore Peterson. At first, she doesn't really mind, but that's because she doesn't realize the monster her uncle is underneath that "lonely old widow" facade.

(P.S., for @inky-mary414 , I was inspired by her OC.)

My first day in Raven Brooks

When my mom told me that I was going to be staying with Uncle Ted for a while until she gets out of therapy, my heart could've stopped beating at that moment.

It's not that I didn't like Uncle Ted, and it's not that my mom doesn't trust him, it's just that we haven't seen each other in a while. The last time I ever saw him was when he and my mom had a huge argument, and he kicked us out of the house without thinking twice.

So to hear that I would be staying with him, I just didn't know how to process it.

"It would be a great way for you two to catch up.", she said.

She wasn't wrong. We haven't seen each other in a while, so I thought that maybe this stay would be a great way for me and my uncle to catch up after so much lost time.

But how she managed to convince him after years since that argument, it will forever remain a mystery to me.

She parked at the front of his house, and it could've been my imagination, but I could've sworn that I saw a kid climb out of his chimney.

Then he slid down the drain pipe and hopped into the bushes next door.

I didn't know if my mom saw it too, or if Uncle Ted saw it from inside the house somewhere, but I didn't even have time to ask Mom before she just got out of the car and went to the back trunk.

I got out too, since she was carrying my bags, and I thought I'd help her since I don't have anything better to do.

When she got to the front door, I stood behind her, a couple of suitcases in my hands, she knocked on the door.

No one came to answer.

She knocked again. Still nothing.

When she was about to knock for a third time, the door opened slightly, then all the way.

I forgot how tall and how muscular Uncle Ted was, and I had also forgotten how scary he was. Maybe that was just me.

"Teddy, so nice to see you!", said my mom. "Anyway, here's Mary, you probably don't remember her after so long, but here she is."

Mom grabbed my shoulders and pushed me in front of her, and I stared at Uncle Ted in fear. He just looked down at me with those weird, intimidating, dull green eyes that I swear could see straight through me.

I bet he can see what I had for breakfast today. Not for long though, because I'm about to lose it.

Mom bent down and gave me a kiss on my forehead before waving me goodbye. "Bye, sweetie. Be a good girl for your Uncle Ted, and call me if you two need anything.", she said. Then she turned on her heel and went back to the car, and I waved her goodbye as she drove off.

Uncle Ted closed the door. I looked at him again, and I didn't feel as intimidated as I did the first time I looked up at him.

"I need to go to the store. You'll be okay by yourself, right?", he asked.

My eyes widened. So he could talk. Mom told me that he became a selective mute after Aunt Diane died and Aaron and Mya went missing. I wouldn't blame him if he couldn't talk, when you lose someone you love, you pretty much lose your will to live.

But I nodded, and he went to the kitchen to the kitchen and got the car keys.

After he left, I decided to just take my bags to the living room.

I couldn't believe what a mess it was in this house. Everything was all over the damn place, things scattered all over the floor.

Seriously, was Uncle Ted so depressed he couldn't clean up after himself anymore?

With nothing else to do, I couldn't unpack since I didn't know whose room I'd be staying in, I thought I should clean up a bit.

I started with the living room. Picking up all of the things that were on the floor, sweeping up anything broken and throwing it away, and fixing any crooked pictures on the wall.

Then I moved onto the kitchen, then the hallway, and then I wondered if it was as messy upstairs as it was downstairs.

I wish I hadn't wondered that.

But anyway, I swept the entire upstairs hallway. But as I tried to go into Uncle Ted's office or his bedroom, I noticed that they were locked shut.

I'm not one to judge people for doing the most weirdest things, but this was so weird.

Almost every single one of the upstairs rooms were locked.

And that's not even the weirdest thing. When I went to check the bathroom, the bathtub was filled with some type of gunk. I didn't dare touch whatever the hell that was.

I was lost in thought as I was putting all of the stuff back, then the front door opened again. I jumped, then I saw that it was just Uncle Ted.

He looked at me.

I noticed that I was still holding the broom.

"I decided to clean up a bit.", I said. I didn't know why I was explaining myself, but I guess I just wanted to get his intimidating stare off of me.

He didn't say anything, he just walked over to me and took the broom. Then he patted my head.

"Thank you, Mary.", he said.

He sat the broom down next to a cabinet in the hallway, then went to the living room and took my bags.

"You'll be sleeping in Aaron's room tonight.", he said. I nodded. Then I remembered something.

"Oh, Uncle Ted. There's actually something I need to know about that.", I said. "Almost all of the upstairs rooms are locked. I don't know if that was on purpose or on accident or something, but -"

"I'll take care of it."

He continued to walk upstairs and take my bags to Aaron's room.

We didn't talk to each other for the rest of the day. I just stayed in Aaron's room while he did whatever, I kept myself busy by reading some of the books I had brought with me.

I read books while I wait for my phone to charge.

At dinner, I noticed that he took a plate full of food to the basement. Why would he do that? Did he have something down there that I didn't know about?

Was it a pet? Because at least having a pet would make this stay a little less awkward.

"Uncle Ted.", I said to him as he walked back into the kitchen, "Why did you take food down there?"

"Where?", he asked.

Oh. He was playing dumb. For sure, he was playing dumb.

"The basement. Why were you taking food to the basement?", I asked.

He didn't answer. He just looked at me, and that stare was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. He put his plate in the sink, "Don't worry about it, Mary.", he said.

Then he left the kitchen.

I washed my own plate, then I went back to Aaron's room.

That night, I laid awake in bed, thinking about my uncle. What was he hiding? Because as far as I know, he's got more secrets than locks. He proved that to me when he took an entire plate of food to the basement.

I got up, sick of the insomnia and decided I just needed to tire myself out. Then I noticed a light from across the street.

I looked out my window to see a girl through her window, and she looked rather down.

Why was she so sad?

I decided I needed to cheer her up.

I turned on my phone's flashlight and waved it around a little at her, trying to get her to notice it. When she saw the light, she looked across the street at me, and I waved at her.

She looked nervous, but she waved back.

I gave her a little dorky thumbs up, and nodded at her. I was trying to signal her "You good?", just to check on her.

She gave me a thumbs up back.

Then she smiled at me.

I smiled back at her.

I gestured another wave at her, signaling to her "Come over tomorrow?"

She nodded again.

Then she closed her curtains.

I laid back on my bed and decided I'd just play on my phone until I felt sleepy.

I felt happy that night as I played myself to sleep. Not even one day in Raven Brooks, and I'm already making friends.

I just couldn't wait to meet her for real.

[letmegrabyourcuteass]

Imagine both Buck and Eddie getting into a work related accident and BOTH managed to lose their memory and so when they get dropped off at Eddie's house, the 118 hoping it sparks some memories the only thing that's blatantly obvious to the two dumb dumbs is that they MUST be together, husband and husband and they have a child together. There's so much of Buck's stuff at Eddie's house that he doesn't believe he has a loft. Pictures are scattered everywhere, and all three are throughout the home. Chris's room has a photo of him and Buck separately.

So they proceed with their lives as normal. Eddie realizes they're married when digging up a certificate and a drunken scrawl of their signatures. They both go out and buy wedding rings when they realize they don't have one. A lot of paperwork gets fixed, so it'll be both Buck and Eddie.

"Did we get into a fight and divorce?" Buck wonders.

"Maybe we've been together for so long and didn't think about marriage cause we were taking our time and not rushing anything?"

"Then I think we both need therapy. We married and fought again and slept with other people."

Eddie winces. "Why would I do that? I love you too much. Plus, I'm gay."

Buck shrugs. "So, therapy?"

"Definitely. A family one too, so all three of us can go."

Buck has no real attachments to his last name, so he switches it to Diaz and loves it. He's just glad Bobby let them off for a few weeks to recover.

Buck and Eddie travel to El Paso cause what the fuck is HIS kid doing down there for so long and pretty much goes "Ok, kiddo. Ready to go back home?" the second he sees Chris. "You've been here for a little too long. Buck will help get your things into the truck."

Chris went to his room so quick, happy his dad finally came down to get him.

Eddie and his mom argue, and Eddie just blinks, hand on his hips, and goes, "You're not his parents, we are. He can visit for breaks, but you don't get to keep him. You legally can't keep him from me. I don't know why I didn't report a kidnapping for so long and didn't get my child sooner, but it is what it is. If he still has issues with me, from what people are saying, then there's therapy and counseling we can all go to and figure things out."

"What do you mean by 'we are'"? Helena asks.

"Buck and I? You know, Chris's other parent. My husband?" Eddie says as if it were obvious. "Was there no wedding? Man, I really gotta look up that marriage certificate," he mutters under his breath. "Oh well, anyways. It's not like I'm keeping him away from you guys, but nothing will ever mend between my son and I if he runs away from his problems."

Helena makes a face. "You married a man?"

Ramon, who stands there a little lost. "You...got married again?" he says, sounding slightly hurt.

"Look, it's just too much for him--" Helena starts.

"Yeah, and? Don't get me wrong, Mom. He has every right to be angry. I fucked up major time and I'm going through a lot of therapy to fix that. You took my son away to help him when I also needed your help," he looks at his parents. "Did you forget you were my parents?"

"We just want what's best for Christopher!" Helena shouts. "Everything will just stress him out and overwhelm him!"

"Again, and? He's not some fragile object, Mom. One thing I do remember about my son is that he's anything but fragile. He's strong and can do anything he sets his mind to. He's more than capable of handling things, so he can handle it if things get overwhelming. If not, he can come to one of his dads for advice. And if not, he's got such a huge support network to reach out to. If you keep sheltering him and not let him figure things out in the world, then this world is going to chew him up and spit him back out. The only thing you are doing is doing more harm than good." Eddie ends the conversation there.

When they leave, Buck takes a few different exits, and when Eddie asks what's going on, he flushes. "Well, uh, I was reading up on articles before we left for Texas, and a zoo near here somewhere-"

"Buck, I'm a teenager, it's uncool to go to the Zoo--"

"--and they have a Shoebill Stork only for this week and I got all of us tickets--"

Eddie and Chris snap their heads at Buck.

"The Shoebill Stork?!" they both said with glee.

"Yes!" Buck chirps with giddiness.

"I take it back, this is the best thing ever."

"And yes, Eddie. You get to sit with these cute penguins--"

"Babe, you better drive faster, now."

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

129 for 🦷!

---

 He lets Chris talk. 

“I thought you were, like… I thought that me being born was what made you weird.” Chris explains. 

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Eddie shakes his head vigorously, but does not interrupt. 

“Like, maybe… Like, maybe if I hadn’t you and mom would be fine, and she’d be alive, and… And you wouldn’t have to do stupid things like cheat on Marisol with her clone.”

“Christopher…” Eddie starts, but his throat is too tight. No. No, none of that is right at all. 

“But then…” Christopher takes a deep breath. “But then my mouth hurt and they told me that it was stress and going to church would fix it, but I need surgery.”

Eddie feels frozen. He feels terrified. This feels wrong. He doesn’t want to hear that they made Chris feel even a fraction of the way he felt, growing up. He thinks he will shatter like glass. How could he have fucked up so badly that Chris ended up in the exact worst place for him to be?

“And,” Chris continues. “And… And when I wanted to actually talk to them about why I was upset, Grandma… She kept saying no wonder I was so unhappy, because Mom ‘did such a number’ on both of us.” 

“No,” Eddie shakes his head again. “No, no, no.”

“So…” Chris sighs. “So I was mad at you. And I was mad at Mom. And I was really mad at me.”:

Eddie could puke.

“And it was like they were trying to make it worse,” Chris says quietly. 

“Make it worse?” Eddie asks.

Chris nods. “Like they didn’t want me to feel better. They wanted me to be mad at you and Mom. But being mad at you just made me more mad at me, because…”

Because he thinks he screwed up Eddie’s life.

Fuck.

“Could they have done that to you too, Dad?” Chris asks nervously.

“Do what, buddy?” Eddie asks. 

“Made you feel worse and worse instead of trying to help you feel better,” Chris says. 

Eddie swallows, throat aching with unexpressed emotion. He’s talked a lot about it in therapy, actually. The ways they did that to him. Not just showing up on his doorstep during one of the worst moment of his life, telling him needed help, taking his son, and offering him no help at all. No. It started long, long before then.

Maybe it started before he even remembers, but he can certainly say it started at least with this. Telling him he was too close with his male friends, that he needed to grow up and think about how it looked, or girls would never be interested; and then they couldn’t stand the girl who was interested. That she wasn’t good enough for him, but that sleeping with her ruined her and what was he thinking? That he needed to man up, do right by her, marry her and enlist, and don’t worry, they’ll help take care of the baby, only to use his absence as an excuse for why they should take custody of Christopher, to call him a stranger in his son’s life. On and on and on. The war messed him up and they didn’t like how he had changed; he needed to get his act together to provide for his son. He needed a solid career plan; no, not that one. A boy needs a mother; why would he ever consider forgiving her? 

It never ended. Eddie could never win. The constant stream of expectations and criticism had crushed him since long before Shannon and Christopher. Maybe part of why Eddie loved being a father far more than he had ever liked being a son or a husband, was that Christopher’s needs were so clear, and his love came so easily. For so long, Eddie understood the rules. 

He’s not sure he does anymore. But god knows he’s trying. 

Eddie realizes it’s been close to a minute since Christopher asked his question. He needs to respond. 

“Uh, yeah,” he admits finally. “Yes. There was… A lot of that. They did that to me and to your mom.”

“And Mom?” Chris asks.

Eddie nods. “She relied on them a lot when I was in Afghanistan. They… Well, your grandma especially… They weren’t always kind to her.”

“Or you?” Chris asks.

“Or me,” Eddie admits. “But listen, Chris… Maybe that really did have a big effect on me. Well, not maybe. I know it did. But it was still my responsibility to address it sooner, so it didn’t hurt you, too. And it did. And I’m very sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Chris says. “I don’t think I understood, before I spent that much time with them.” 

Eddie’s chest almost caves in from the force of his relief. 

But it’s not that easy. It could be that easy. To lean into the narrative that his parents are the source of all his problems. To take Christopher’s out, and lay all the blame on them. He’s mad at them right now, rightfully so. It’d be easy. But that’s exactly what they’d do. And while he has a lot to be guilty for, responding to situations like them is not one of them. 

“A lot of it was still just me, though,” Eddie says. “Okay? You have to know that. I did fuck up, Chris. It’s not anyone’s fault but mine. Especially never yours.” 

Chris sighs a little. “Yeah, I know.” 

“And, uh, if you want to talk about that, we can,” Eddie offers. “Because I think we should. At some point.”

Chris twists his mouth. “Maybe later?”

“Okay,” Eddie relents. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He tries not to seem disappointed. It’s not that he’s eager to talk about Kim or Marisol or… Or the other thing he’s been sitting on. He just wants it out in the open, so it’s not sitting like a bomb between them. 

“But Dad?” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. 

[eddiegettingshot]

okay. mourning s1-s4 tim minear anon here. just finished my season 3 rewatch and ohhhhh boy oh boy. honestly I could write so much about that finale alone because s6 and s7 have made me forget what a good finale can be (athough I will say that the s3 finale has me thinking a wholeeee bunch of insane things about the s7 finale like buddie things and how the writing choices are were insane (complementary) that I will not elaborate on here because Im already rambling too much about how good s3 is). but genuinely all the character arcs were SO GOOD this season its insane. athena (hate the copaganda here but the general emotional journey with athena and athena/may): establishing what being a cop means to her -> showing that not even the murder of her fiance could sway her from policing and finally arresting the man that did it -> experiencing something traumatic first hand that makes her question her ability to do the job again. and then may: hating what her mom does, going as far as to write her college essay about it, then insisting on taking the pictures with her mom for prom despite her injuries from policing/not being ashamed of her. and also appreciating it to the point of also wanting to help people but as an acab truther pursuing a different way of doing it (911 operator. also imagine they made may a cop thank god that didnt happen lmao). michaels feeling of loneliness and isolation leading up to his diagnosis, then ending the season by meeting his endgame and knowing he gets to live. buck starting the season being insecure about losing his place with the 118 and being the person left behind again and ending the season confronting the last person who left him + feeling secure in his relationships with the 118. bobby's refusal to let buck do anything at the beginning of the season due to his injury + general recklessness vs doing buck's suggested rescue to save both victims. both the henren IVF/fostering arc AND the hen arc were great and thank god because the henren of it all was seriously lacking before this season. but hitting the girl with the ambulance -> reconnecting with her first rescue -> introducing her issues with Drs and their ability to listen and help patients to their full ability -> pursuing med school SO GOOD. and remember when madney used to get character arcs UGHH soooo good. developing chim + his mom/albert/his dad more. having maddie actually confront what happened with doug via therapy (btw maddie stalker plot good example of how to do an insane storyline well!!). this leading into the love confession and also the conclusion/start to the pregnancy arc they set up in !!! episode 1 !!! them not just dropping the josh arc completely after the heist trauma he suffered and seeing it through to a satisfying conclusion. and like I do have one nitpick in hindsight like the eddie arc was so good up until he got caught in the fighting ring and he cried about the divorce and then it was just never brought up again in favour of doing the mini chris stories in 3x10/3x12/3x15. like you literally had a chance to address and conclude eddie's mourning shannon arc in eddie begins or the episodes surrounding that and just didnt LMAO idk maybe they had plans and it got scrapped for the buck/red/abby arc because connie agreed to come back because really it was the only thing that did not feel concluded relative to literally every other character arc this season. anyways where is this tim. TIM WAKE UP!!! come back and give your characters arcs!!! one thing that is super obvious from rewatching the early seasons is there is still SO MUCH interesting stuff to explore with these characters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am begging please give eddie a story with a satisfactory conclusion please give maddie and chim stories please stop torturing hen and karen via fostering/adoption please conclude a buck plot in satisfactory fashion please have bobby and athena explore his past properly please make ravi a main

ohhhh my god THIS MADE ME MOURN S3 TOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 what the fuck COME BACK TIM 😭😭😭😭😭 i want him BACK 😭😭😭😭😭

[astrohasswag]

yap session

so like is it just me or do I genuinely hate having friends? I genuinely cannot deal with going with the same person everyday, it’s so draining and exhausting. I actually like being alone, sitting at tables by myself, being independent on group projects, and just doing any simple task by myself in general. I hate hate HATE socializing. I will climb Mt. Everest just to avoid them following me around like a baby duck. “Let’s hang out!!” “Wanna go on call with (friend)?” “Haha, (jokingly mean comment)!” SHUT THE FUCK UUUPPPPP. I DONT FUCKING CARE WHAT HAPPENED IN YOUR LIFE LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. I’m sorry if I act sensitive or rude when I snap back, but I can’t keep up the act of pretending to enjoy someone’s company. I hate everyone and everyone hates me. I’ve always been just some stupid therapy friend who tried to fix everything even if it’s not their business, and it sucks. I know I’m doing this to myself on purpose, but it only hurts more. Sure, I have like, one or two friends to vent to but honestly? I have to keep my emotions bottled up most of the time because I’m afraid of judgement. People always make a big deal out of everything. Even if I vent to a trusted adult, it’s always the trusted adult that started it in the first place or someone I genuinely cannot stand being near. Fuck everyone. Fuck me. Fuck my life. I seem selfish most of the time when I say this, but I just can’t help myself. It’s kind of just a toxic trait. Cutting people off just kind of helps me cope since I don’t have to deal with the same person over and over again. It’s exhausting to depend on just one person for a long period of time. I hate it. I don’t need anyone, no one needs me. I’m hard to love. Hell, even my mom said I was hard to talk to. Am I sorry for it? Not really, no. I just hate commitment. I think I’ve always gotten easily jealous and guilty whenever I see one of my friends hang out with someone other than me. It’s better for me to live alone other than crashing out. No matter how close you are to me, no matter how much you hurt me, you’re just a burning memory in the back of my mind. Will it hurt leaving you? No. I could care less. Will it hurt remembering? Maybe. But if I say that in front of everyone I’m considered “selfish” and “disrespectful”. I swear to god, anytime I show an emotion other than happiness, I’m almost always called disrespectful or selfish. I could be sacrificing my own skin and brain but be considered selfish for keeping my bones. Doesn’t anyone understand?Leave. Me. ALONE. Peace and quiet pretty pls. Thx!! :3 When I say I hate having friends, I mean IRL friends. This is only devoted to them. I don’t know why, but having online friends just feels so much better. I don’t have to meet them, we can just talk to each other without worrying about them judging me in any way, and they don’t have to know all my life secrets!!! :PP

[traumagenic-positivity]

Vent, you can delete this if it's too much.

Tw/cw: emotional neglect, I don't know what else to tw/cw with sorry.

I kind of hate my mom, she disgusts me and I don't know why.

Before I was fine with it, we were close (nothing sexual or anything) and did everything together and now, she disgusts me, I can't do that same things I could do before, I can't talk to her about anything. She touches me, like taps me) and it makes my skin crawl, I really want to know why. I feel like a horrible person for feeling this way. I don't know if it's because we are constantly worrying about upsetting her and it stresses us out or some sort of victim complex (nothing wrong with them) but sometimes I would be so sure about stuff when it comes to her, like emotional neglect, and stuff then she would start talking about something and I would feel bad about thinking about it. She probably didn't do it intentionally right? No probably not. She doesn't even know about what I think so.

The other day we were getting ready for bed then she started talking about how we weren't doing what we said we would do, we barely remember what two days ago was, and we are supposed to remember something from months ago? Maybe I'm reading to much into it, but I'm not so sure anymore. She doesn't know about our amnesia or anything, I feel like we can't tell her, afraid she'll assume the wrong thing. But I really need help I believe. I would have to wait for a bit to get therapy.

Sorry for the vent, again you can delete it it's to much.

no, no, I get this so much, nonnie!! in our experience, we've also had issues with this kind of thing!

and we all need spaces to vent and get our feelings out <3

[nightshadefairy]

Honest question and you don't gotta answer but why do you post selfies or pics of yourself anymore :c You're so pretty and I remember you posting them all the time and Im curious about why you stopped if theres even a reason ;-;

thank you for the compliment 🥺 i really appreciate it. and i just haven't been able to bring myself to take pictures anymore 😞

after being harassed relentlessly, lied about, had people make fun of my appearance, sharing my page around, accusing me of heinous things, i just have so much fear every time i post anything.

when i post my edits or about games i play its not as bad. i'm really trying to just exist without being bothered. even talking about this right now in this post is making me so anxious. my hands are shaking and now my chest feels all tight😭

i don't feel comfortable posting anything personal anymore. everything i post is being watched by ppl who pick apart everything i do and say.

i truly am trying my best to be okay, to not let ppl who don't even know me mess with my head, but i just feel so defeated. ppl i've never even met have affected me in ways i could have never even imagined. every time my mom calls me by my childhood nickname i just want to break down and cry, and i have already when my anxiety and fear was at its worst. but now its mainly just sadness and feeling hopeless about myself.

i used to love taking pictures, and sharing my memories with ppl online, but i've been so depressed because of all this. i do what i need to do for my kids, but when i have time to myself i just isolate or distract myself with stuff like video games, art, or music.

i feel like i've lost myself, or rather had it taken from me. it sucks. it hurts. i don't feel comfortable posting about myself online anymore because it just fills me with fear and anxiety. when you have had to beg ppl for years to just leave you alone or constantly be compared to other ppl it just breaks you down little by little. i try so hard to treat ppl with kindness even when they don't deserve it and it gets me nowhere or i end up getting manipulated, or having my words twisted to use against me. i feel like im looking over my shoulder except they're nowhere near me.

i have 1 true friend i've made through all of this. and when i talk to her she helps me feel better about the hell i'm going through. so maybe one day i'll feel okay again, but right now, and for a long time now, i feel like im trapped in a dark hole. and every time i try to climb out i fall back down even deeper. im in therapy, i started taking so many new meds for bipolar, anxiety, depression, etc., ive had stays in the psych ward despite having a deep fear of hospitals. i just can't seem to stop feeling this way. its a mixture of fear and pain that i can't seem to put into words.

i'm sure it sounds dramatic or someone will tell me to just "get over it" but thats not how my brain works. (or doesn't work i should say.) i feel everything too deeply and even little things affect me so badly. and i've been going through this alone for so long that i just don't even know how to cope anymore.

my therapist thinks i am feeling a form of depersonalization mixed with anxiety. but honestly i can't even put it into words how low i feel most days. it feels like just being myself hurts now. 😞

[six-white-venus]

if you ever see him, there is just one thing you would like to ask him:

how do i forgive?

because you've been trying, lord knows you have. it's been a year. he never loved you. it's as easy as that. why can't it be as easy as that?

you recently came across a letter you wrote him after he left, one where you're begging him to come back. you tore the paper copy into shreds a long time ago, but this one must have escaped your notice. you remember his response to the message. a thumbs-up emoji.

"whose name will i call, a thousand times over?" it said, "who will I call my love, my love, my love- exasperated, scandalised, laughing? who will I call?"

it's been a year and you know the answer to that question, more or less. no one. you will call no one. you will sit and stare at the paint peeling off your wall, that ugly, powdery blue that has started making your skin crawl. you will sit on the cold kitchen floor till your mom pulls you to your feet and brings you tea. you will call no one. you will make yourself forget.

except, it's not that easy.

he pops up in every mundane aspect of your life. the other day you found a keychain you bought him a month before his birthday, a month before he left you. you give it to someone else because why waste money? it's not like he lives in it.

(but he does, he does, he does.)

he is dating someone you used to know. you don't care. you want to throw up. you just want to ask: how do I forget?

a friend recently asked you, "do you think you had a savior complex, when it came to him?" you said you didn't, but maybe that's not the whole truth. maybe you did have some sort of twisted need to save him in every single way possible just so that he'll love you.

i would help you stitch yourself up. i swear i won't scream when you gut me like a fish. i will feed you soup and keep you warm. i won't sob when you knock my portion to the floor. you bleed. i do, too. no, you're right. i don't bleed as you do. I'll never understand. i am so sorry. i love you. do you love me?

after a week, you receive two texts:

lol kys ily <3

you are so happy you could sob.

he does none of this now, apparently. he smiles instead of smirking. he cradles things. he tends to wounds. he calls her baby. he says, "I love you so much." the whole thing, all spelled out. how crazy is that?

and you just want to ask: how do I stop caring?

he always held you between his teeth. there was nothing gentle about it. the bite marks on the back of your neck still hurt and you could swear it still bleeds. your mom says you're imagining it. you must be.

but here's the thing! you have people who hold you in their arms now. they are so gentle, so careful with you. you didn't cry, not once, under the clutch of his canines but now in their arms, all you do is cry. it's so strange. and you really are happy. it's so much better than what it used to be. you wake up and he's not the first thing you think of, not anymore. you dream that he apologises to you (you forgive him every single time). you go to therapy. you don't remember the last time you cried over him. you are loved, but not by him. you never were.

it doesn't matter, because you know what love feels like now. it is popcorn and nacho cheddar cheese seasoning and mutton curry. it tastes like tea and chips in an orange package and instant noodles you made with your best friend the day before she left for college. you know love now. you know happiness.

but in moments like these, you can't stop yourself from thinking that if you see him again, you would like to ask him one last thing:

how do you stop missing being held between one's teeth?

[badeggonthebeat]

RIDE THE CYCLONE ALIVE! AU

part 3/?

you were woken by a familiar face.

it was contance, she woke you up because the group therapy session was about to start.

you were, obviously nervous. talking about the accident with the choir you had supposedly “died” with is just.. not something ordinary to say the least.

“Y/n, its ok. once we are able to talk it out with eachother and the therapist, then maybe we can all.. recover in a way.”

you nodded. she wasnt wrong, this could help. but something in you screamed to avoid the session at all costs, but you ignored that and followed constance to the hospital lounge where everyone was.

you locked eyes with all of them, they all have some type of injury, some bad, some minor.

you sat down next to mischa. you were shaking, your breathing getting heavier and heavier-

“y/n are you ok?” mischa whispered

you snapped out of it and just.. nodded.

as you looked at him your attention was quickly shifted to the therapist.

he spoke in a calming voice, he held a clipboard in his hand and began the session.

you were all so quiet everytime he asked a question, only one person really answered when he asked.

“So, if you guys dont mind me asking.. what did you guys feel after the accident..?”

that question..

you know what your answer was.

you just couldnt muster up the strength to say it.

“I.. i guess.. relief that i woke up in a hospital bed and not ever..” ocean replied.

“.. i was scared.. shocked in a way? but overall.. scared. this trauma.. i know its going to impact my life alot…” constance added

the rest stayed quiet. just staring off. in pure disbelief of what had happened.

the accident was still recent in a way.

only a month ago.

september 14th.

“Alright.. and.. if this isn’t sensitive and of course you guys dont have to answer this.. do you remember an extra choir member..?”

.. an extra choir member.

who..?

wait..

that dream.

did she survive?

i thought she did. you guys literally, well not you, ocean; voted for her to live whyisshenothere-

everyones faces seemed to be.. shocked in a way from that question. the therapist didnt press it, and instead just wrote down something in his clipboard.

after a few more questions and more fidgeting with your hands, you were all sent back to your hospital rooms, getting ready to be discharged from the hospital.

you felt.. numb again.

you couldn’t stop thinking about her.

you packed your blanket, your bag, and the stuffed animal mischa had won you at the fair.

you smiled so hard on that day, unknowing of the accident that would occur.

did they ever close that old place down..?

now wasnt the time to think about that, you headed to the constances van, your mom and dad were too busy to pick you up.. you wondered if they even.. cared..

the car was quiet.

it stopped once they got to your house.

you waved goodbye and thanked them as they drived off.

you pulled out your keys and unlocked the door.

silence.

it was dark, you turned on the lights.

you looked around the house, and..

nothing, nobody was there.

or so you thought.

you went into your room and..

your cat, luna was there!

“poor baby.. who.. who kept you safe while i was gone..?”

you thought and then it clicked, it was probably contances family.

you were the town’s babysitter/ petsitter/ housesitter-

constances family always wanted to retuned the favor one day.

you pet lunas black fur, she was originally a stray, you found her in a bush with no mom.

she was alone. just like you.

its not like your parents were dead they just, were never home.

on the rare occurrence they were, they were in their little office.

how tragic. born into a such a rich family.

everyone wanted to live like you. but they never saw.. how life was behind the curtains

luna snapped you out of it by sitting on your lap.

you got a message on your phone.

it was from.. the choir group chat..

Constance: hello guys. my family wanted me to ask if you guys wanted to.. comeover to the blackwood cafe and.. maybe after that have a sleepover next week.. just like old times..

you looked at the message.

you thought about it and agreed.

this would be better for you, to see your friends.

just gotta tough out this week.

you got this.

do it for the choir

do it for luna.

do it to..

live.

———————————————————————-hello!! i hoped you guys liked it!!

mischa and y/ns whole relationship will probably start either next chapter or the one after that.

and perfectdolls will probably occur in later chapters.

this story is gonna go into how each choir member recovers

so expect future chapters to be written in different point of views.

i dont know when ill be able to write the other povs, im kinda just seeing what direction i want this to go in and go from there.

byeee 🎢🌀