#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.

[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!"

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

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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 😭😭😭😭😭

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 18 -> CH 19

Tagging:@roryculkinluvr@thatsthewrongwallcraig@icarus-star@cc-luvr@madamemaximoff06@shady-the-simp@quicksilversg1rl@s-0lar@kristennero-wallacewellsver@ophelialaufey@mayathepsychic1999@x-prettyboy-x@rorylover71@auggiethecreator

TW: Mentions of molestation, SA, pedophilia

Jack couldn't shake the feeling he had when he got home. It wasn't a bad feeling but more of a curious feeling. Had his parents really talked about him the way Mrs. Fletcher had described? I wasn't like he kept in touch with them like that. He would call for holidays but he rarely visited. He never really felt like going back made much sense because of how independent they seemed. Once he left, it was like they had just started living again. He walked out of the kitchen with a mug of tea that Dr. Carty recommended to calm his nerves at night and sat it next to the piano.

He sat down on the bench and grazed his fingers over the keys, not applying enough pressure for sound. He remembered what it felt like hearing his father play the keys while his mother played her violin in the early evening hours during the weekends. It was hard to think about his childhood now that he knew the truth about his brother and what happened to him. It was hard to think about the things he had blocked out from being a kid that his father only brought to light in his own death.

His fingers started playing the keys without thinking and he almost felt hypnotized by the sound.

"Pick up your tempo Jack. You know this song isn't meant to sound depressing." His mother's voice crept into his head making his fingers stumble. He shook his head trying to clear her from his consciousness. She was the last one he wanted poking around in his brain. The more he played, the better it sounded. He didn't hear the door open but when the floorboard creaked, he looked over to see Y/n standing in the living room behind him.

"Sorry it was so pretty, I didn't want to interrupt." Y/n explained.

"It's fine." He gave her a soft smile and waved her closer. She sat down next to him on the bench and watched him continue to play.

"I just wanted to thank you for coming by and talking to my mom. You were all she could talk about until she went to sleep." Y/n smiled at him.

"Hopefully that's a good thing." Jack smirked.

"Oh it's a nice change from her trying to set me up with literally anyone that comes to the front door." Jack couldn't help but laugh at the thought of the very homosexual mailman being pressured to ask out Y/n by her well-meaning mother.

"I just hope she didn't say anything to upset you. I know we really haven't talked much about your parents but she did mention it was an accident." Y/n didn't give her condolences but she did put her hand on his leg which gave him comfort.

"Y-yeah. They were going on some sort of trip. They did that a lot. The accident report says something must have run out in the road to cause the wreck. I was pretty close with my dad, not so much my mom." Jack explained and watched Y/n's hand rub comforting circles into his leg.

"I kind of had a mental break when I came home last year to deal with it all. They said it was a fit of hysteria. Seeing hallucinations of my dead mother, I thought maybe she was the reason for all of the bad shit in my life and tried to murder her ghost. It was a real show." He tried to laugh it off and Y/n turned her body towards him. He let his hands fall to the tops of his jeans and she stroked his hand carefully.

"Apparently my father had a lot of demons he didn't feel like he wanted to share with me until after his death. Also explained a lot of my mother's resentment towards me too. A part of me wishes I never found any of it but I guess if I was going to find out I was molested by a neighbor and his brood of pedo friends, he didn't want to be the one to have to sit with me in therapy." Jack had never verbalized anything about his sexual assaults to anyone. Dr. Carty could barely get him to acknowledge that it was real when they first started doing sessions together but it made the local news so there was facts backing up what he tried to chalk up to delusions.

Jack waited for Y/n to stumble over herself apologizing or to pull away from him in disgust but she didn't. She couldn't to stroke his hand until he glanced over towards her, trying to meet her eyes.

"Linda is actually my adoptive mom. She was my case worker before she adopted me but my birth father would molest me until I was about nine. One of my babysitters actually called the police when she noticed all the bruising in places no child should have any. I got super lucky with her. She treated me like I was her own, never pushed or prodded when it came to treatment. I even still attend a lot of those sexual assault survivor groups." Y/n opened up to him and he hadn't noticed he had flipped his hand over to hold her hand while she spoke about her childhood trauma.

"I had no idea about that shit happening until I came back here. I still can't really remember it." Jack squinted like he was searching his brain.

"Sometimes its better not to search too hard for those memories. Our brains tries to protect us from shit we don't need to drag to the surface because it didn't make us who we are." Y/n gave his hand a squeeze and he finally met her gaze.

"And if you decide you want to try to figure it out, you aren't alone." Jack couldn't understand how freely she spoke about things that were so life altering with him. They've only been friends a few months and he barely wanted to talk to Shanda about it when he found out.

"How are you so...open about all this shit? I mean your mental health shit and your trauma? I'm still in the stage where I feel like a piece of shit psychopath every other day." Jack felt her grip tighten on his hand.

"There is freedom in knowing that bad shit has happened to you but it's not you. I wasn't always this well adjusted." She added with a laugh bringing his hand to her mouth and kissing the top of it.

"You're smart, Jack. You're capable of being free from the the things that happened to you. We all have bad shit but how we move through life is up to you." Y/n tucked his hair behind his ear and he leaned into her hand.

"Have I told you that you're probably the best thing I've discovered since coming back home?" Jack smile softly and Y/n rubbed his cheek.

"No but a girl doesn't hate compliments." She returned the smile. She didn't stay too much longer after their conversation because she said she had to work but Jack didn't feel overwhelmed when she left.

Typically when talking about the wounds in his life he felt like he would instantly retreat within himself and need to call Dr. Carty but not tonight.

Tonight, all he wanted to think about was the next time he would get to see Y/n. Talk to her. Be in her presence. Touch her. He just wanted something in his life that made him feel good and she was quickly becoming that for him.

[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?

[urfavoritedcwhore]

the russian boy//part two

warnings: alcohol usage, underage drinking, marijuana usage, and swearing

not proof read!

part two: boris’s house

after about twenty minutes of driving and answering boris's questions about new orleans, we finally turn into his driveway. i look up and notice i can see my own house, just two doors down from his. damn he does live close to me. i suddenly remember that i have to give my mom our car keys so she can go...do whatever, i honestly don't wanna know what she does during the night. "can you actually pull into that driveway,", i say pointing to my house, "it's mine and i need to give the car keys to my mom.". boris nods and backs out of his driveway, and parks into mine. "i'll just be a second.", i say grabbing the keys out of the ignition, "won't your mom be mad you skip last period new girl?", boris says looking suspiciously at me. how can i explain this to him without sounding like a whiny, trauma dumping, little kid. i'll make a joke out of it, easy and simple. "she's probably just waking up, she was pretty trashed the last..well few nights.", i say with a huge smile and small chuckle. to my suprise, he laughs at this. "ha! sounds like my dad and your mom have a lot in common, eh?", he says opening his car door, before walking around to open mine. thank God he didn't do some, "oh i'm so sorry your life is like that", speech. i laugh back, "maybe, does your dad go through a bottle of tito's every night?", i say still giggling. this makes him let out a sharp quick laugh, "HA! try two! he gets so drunk he cannot use feet!", he says holding up two fingers on his hand, then pointing to his feet. "shit yeah! my mom had to see a doctor once cause she had some weird nerve things going on in her feet from drinking.", i say thinking back to the time my mom had to go to physical therapy for a month just to learn how to use her feet again. "yes yes! my dad too. it was honestly little funny.", he says with a smirk. alright this boy is just trying to be sexy with the broken english and the accent. i don't know why but it's so fucking attractive. he holds out his hand to me, and i take it jumping out of the car. "i'll be back in like 2 minutes!", i say jogging towards my front door. i open my door and see my mom still sleeping on the couch. i go over to her and gently nudge her awake. "mom.", i whisper as she opens her eyes. i jingle the keys at her, "i'm home, the trucks all yours.", i toss the keys onto the coffee table by the couch. "thank you sweetie, was school okay?", she says in a raspy voice, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "yea yea, it was fine. i'm gonna go hangout with some kids i met, they live just down the street.", i say still whispering , so that i dont hurt her head from the killer hangover im sure she has. "ok hon, well last night i called around, and i found a job waitressing at a restaurant on the strip. im supposed to go in at 6pm for my first shift, so i should go take a shower and wake up.", she says sitting up and trying to cover the vodka bottle on the floor with a blanket, "i'll probably be gone all night, those restaurants on the strip are open 24 hours and i want the longest shift i can take, to start making some more money." i feel proud of her. im glad she found a job so fast, maybe it'll help since she won't have as much free time to drink. "good shit mom, i'm proud of you, i'll figure something out for dinner, i think we still have those microwave mac and cheeses in one of these box's.", i say hugging her and examining the boxes on the floor. she smiles at me and looks at the boxes on the ground, "we can start unpacking these boxes this weekend, ok? now go hangout with your friends lucy bug," she sniffs me as we both break away from the hug, "and don't smoke in this house ok? you smell like snoop dogg's bed room.", she's says giving me a quick smile. "i won't mom, love you!", i say turning away and walking towards the door. "love you too hon!", she calls out back to me as she walks begins walking upstairs to get in the shower. i open the front door and see boris leaning against my car smoking a cigarette.

i walk up to him and hold my fingers out as he passes it to me. i take a long drag and exhale then give it back to him. "let's go.", he says smiling and waving at me to follow as he begins walking to his house. i follow him and realize his car still isn't in his driveway.

"where's theo?", i ask as we approach his front door. "hmm, probably getting popchyk.", he says struggling to get his door open, it looks like it's been slammed too many times, and has started to jam on the door frame. what in the fuck is a "popchyk". is it like...you know what, i'm stumped, i have idea as to what that could be. i decide to voice my thoughts. "sorry but what is a "popchyk"?", i say with genuine confusion as he finally gets the door to open and leads me inside. "it is like..eh how you say,...dog? yes, it is dog.", he says, his face twisting as he tried to find the word. what kind of name is that. nevermind, im not about to question the dogs name. he takes my book bag as i walk into his house, and tosses it on the ground, before doing the same to his. his house looks bare, almost as bare as mine is. honestly his house layout looks really similar to mine, i guess this is the kind of neighborhood where the houses look just as alike on the inside as they do on the outside. he makes his way over to the fridge and opens it to expose empty shelves. well, almost empty. there's a pack of beers, two large bottles of Smirnoff vodka, and a few to-go chinese food containers. "beer or vodka new girl?", he says grabbing a beer for himself. i honestly want the vodka, but if he's drinking a beer, i will too i guess. "beers fine, thanks.", i say holding my hand out. he opens the beer bottle with his teeth, spits out the cap, and hands it to me. "impressive.", i say noding my head and looking at my open beer. "it's easy when you know how to do without chipping teeth.", he says smiling, as he takes a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving me.

i take a sip of my beer, and jump when i hear the door slamming open letting a high pitched bark ring through the house. "go popchyk! go see your daddy!", i hear theo say call from the entrance room laughing. boris gets on his knees and in comes fly a small white dog through the kitchen directly to boris. this dog is fugly. he looks like maybe he's a maltase, but his fur is so dirty and knotted that he looks more like a tumble weed that blew in from the yard. boris scoops him up in the arm that his beer is not in, as the dog lays kisses on his cheek. "ohhh who is a good popchyk? you are good popchyk! new girl, come meet him!", boris says as he puts down his beer and rubs his head. i walk towards boris and hold out my hand for "popchyk"(still confused about that name btw) to smell. now that im closer to this dog, he's kinda cute. he's not cute in like a, "aww that puppy is so beautiful!", kind of way but more in a, "that dog is so ugly it's cute.", kind of way. popchyk smells my hand and lets me scratch his head, "he's so cute!", i say after popchyk barks at me to signal he wants more scratch's. boris laughs, "no no, popchyk is ugly, i will admit this, but he has personality! not a lot of dogs have good personality,eh?", boris says nodding at me and picking his beer back up. i laugh, "ok he's definitely not the cutest dog, but he's so funny looking that he's cute you know?",i say turning my head to the side inspecting the dog. "exactly! don't say in front of potter though, he thinks popchyk is cutest dog ever.", boris says smiling and lowering his voice as theo approaches the kitchen. i smile and make a "my lips are sealed" motion. theo reaches the kitchen and looks at our drinks, "fuck no, we're drinking heavy tonight, that physics test kicked my ass.", he says opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of the vodka. he walks right by us and starts going up the stairs. he stops on the third step and looks back at us, "are you two coming?", he says waving the bottle at us. boris and i look at each other, put our beers down, and follow theo. we all end up on the floor of what i assume to be boris's room. his wall has a russian flag on the wall, and white Christmas lights strung all across his room. honestly my first day in Las Vegas really isn't so bad at all, these kids are pretty cool. we take turns passing the bottle around, giggling, and getting decently drunk. boris interrupts theo's drunken rambling, "i'm hungry", he says falling to his back. theo gasps, "bor food sounds so good right now.", he says laying a hand on boris's stomach and looking at him like boris is the smartest person on the planet.

we're all definitely too drunk to drive anywhere for food, and from the looks of boris's fridge the only thing he has is week old white rice. i get up and wobble for a second before i gain my balance, "i have mac and cheese!", i say slurring and holding up my index finger. the boys both shoot up so quick to their feet they almost fall backwards, which causes all of us to let out a long hysterical laugh. "follow me!", i slur, too drunk to care that i took both of their hands in mine. "popchyk come-on!", i call out to the dog who had been laying on boris's bed, he gets up and follows us down the stairs. i check to make sure the truck isn't in my driveway still, and i lead them over to my house. we stumble the whole way over drunkenly laughing, and falling more than a few times. we finally managed to make it inside the house, popchyk still following us. i take them to the living room, which is basically in the same room as my kitchen(there's no wall separating the two rooms) , and sit them down on the couch. i start digging through boxes until i find a box of mac and cheese. bingo. i'm about to close the box back up, when i see my purse that i had somehow forgotten about. i pick it up and look inside, hoping to find some loose money, but instead i find my weed pen almost completely full. i turn my head sideways. how did i forget about this? i must've just been so damn busy with the move it slipped my mind. i grab the pen out of my purse and run towards the boys. i stop in front of the couch as they sit laughing about something. they notice me standing there and look up at me, "lookey what i foundddd", i say holding up the mac and cheese in one hand and my pen in the other. "YES", theo says jumping up from the couch, as boris looks excitedly at the items in my hand. i take a hit from my pen and toss it to the boys. i start walking towards the kitchen as i hear them both laughing and coughing violently. i make the mac and cheese, at one point hearing boris say , "new girl has good weed.", which makes me giggle. when im done making the food i go to get bowls, only to realize the only silverware we have unpacked is a box of plastic spoons and knives. i laugh as i pick up the pot of mac and cheese and three spoons and walk towards the couch, "alright boys, we haven't unpacked any of the plates or bowls yet, so it looks like we're dinning family style tonight.", i say plopping down on the floor. the boys get off the couch, boris sits down next to me, and theo sits across from us. i put the pot of mac and cheese in the middle and hand them their spoons. we all sit silently stuffing our faces with the food. from what i can tell none of us have eaten today.

after we finish our food, i feel like im starting to sober up. i grab the pot from the floor and place it into the sink, before checking my phone and realizing its already 10pm. how has the time gone by so quick? we must have been in boris’s room drinking for longer than i thought we were. i head back into the living room and sit back down next to boris. “you wanna to swim?”, says theo looking at boris. boris looks at me, “if new girl comes with.”, he says smirking at me. “i don’t know, im not a good swimmer at all, and i have no idea which box my swimsuits are in.”, i say trying to think of something else we can do. “just wear bra and underwear, eh?”, boris says looking confused. i lift one eyebrow at him curiously. “not anything weird, is like…what’s the word…bikini, yes? potter and i unusually go in our underwear.”, i look at him and laugh, “that may fix the swimsuit problem, but definitely not the “i can’t swim” problem.”, i say nugding him playfully with my elbow. “i can make sure you don’t drown, i can carry you in deep end.”, he says shrugging. now i know water makes everyone lighter than they are, but im a chubby girl. i wouldn’t say im extremely big, but im definitely not a skinny girl. and this boy, this boy is so damn scrawny. don’t get me wrong, he’s sexy as fuck, but he looks like he would fall over if the wind blew strong enough. i sit and consider his offer for a moment, before he stands up and grabs my hand, “it will be fun, promise.”, he says pulling me up and motioning for theo to stand up. “let’s go, we’ll use my pool.”, boris says leading me out the door. shit ok i guess we’re doing this. “i’m definitely gonna need another drink before i get in that pool.”, theo says as he catches up with us. “i second that.”, i say looking at theo as boris walks up to his driveway, my hand still in his. theo stops for a second, “shit.”, he says before turning to jog back to my house. “what’s he doing?”, i ask boris, but before he can answer we both see theo jogging back out of my house, popchyk in hand. boris and i laugh at the sight of theo out of breath and popchyks ears bouncing up and down as theo carries him. we wait for theo at the door, and go inside when he catches up with us. “i’ll go get drink.”, boris says walking upstairs to his bedroom. theo looks at me, “i promise he’s not trying to be a perv, the first time i met him he made me strip to my tighty Whiteys to go swim. he just really likes the water, i don’t know why.”, theo says beginning to take off his shirt. boris comes back down stairs and waves the bottle at theo and me, “who wants first?”, he says looking at us. i grab the bottle out of his hands and take about 3 shots out of it. as my throat burns and my eyes tear, i hand the bottle to theo, who’s looking at me with large eyes. “ok new girl, you can handle your liquor!”, theo says taking the bottle. like mother like daughter i guess. before i pussy out, i take off my shirt and kick off my leggings. the boys look at me for a split second with awe before removing their clothes, leaving only their boxers. “lets go”, theo says grabbing me by my hand. i grab boris’s hand so that we’re all connected in a drunken line, running towards the open back door. boris, who grabbed the vodka back from theo after theo took his few shots, is chugging it like its water. we make it outside and theo disconnects from my hand, and jumps into the pool, leaving me a boris and me still holding hands. boris looks over at me, “you want?”, he says shaking the vodka bottle. i nod and hold out my free hand for it. “open”, he says using his index finger on his free hand to tap my lips, without thinking, i open my mouth and feel vodka running down my throat. he stops pouring for a second, but continues to when i make a “more” gesture with my hand. when he’s done i look up at him, my cheeks burning red. is it from the alcohol or how fucking sexy that was.

i honestly think a little bit of both. he smiles at me and rubs the vodka running down my chin with his thumb, before licking it so nonchalantly that im not even sure he knows the moves he’s making right now. if i was a betting girl, i’d bet he knows exactly what he’s doing right now. and trust me when i say, two can play that game…

end of part 2, part 3 coming soon!

[catamano]

11:24am - Charlotte

Stop, Charlotte. It’s not personal. Emmett's voice has been ringing in my head since our conversation earlier. Charlotte. I hate it when he calls me that. I hear it at least fifteen times a day, but never from him. Charlotte. I can’t remember the last time he said it. With everything going on right now, it feels stupid to be bothered by this. 

Liam and I are supposed to leave soon, I’m not sure why he’s not downstairs yet. Out of all of my kids, he’s the one who is always on time. Maybe I should go check on him. Take a step back, Charlotte. There’s Emmett’s voice again. I’ll give him ten minutes. 

My phone vibrates on the table and I see a text from Beth. Does Tuesday at 12 work for you? I immediately respond yes and apologize again for texting her on a weekend. There’s a sinking feeling in my chest. I’m anxious about starting therapy again. I saw Beth for two years after the twins were born, and again when I quit working to open the store. It’s been a few years since then. She’s good. She knows me. She’ll be able to help me through this. I sigh. That doesn’t make it any easier. 

“Is that my old dress?” Georgia. She sounds like she’s in a better mood.

“Probably,” my younger daughter responds. I hear both of them start to make their way down the stairs. The girls are ready but Liam isn’t? That’s odd. They’re not leaving for at least another hour.

“How many of my old things do you have?”

“I don’t know. A lot.” True. I’d say more than half of her closet used to be Georgia’s. Whenever I offer to buy her new things, she usually turns me down. She prefers the hand-me-downs. It’s sweet. Lucy is her sister’s biggest fan, though I don’t think she’d ever say it out loud. She prefers to tease her instead.

They’re both at the bottom of the stairs now. Georgia pats her sister’s head. “How do the braids feel?” she asks. Neither one of them notice me sitting here.

“Good. Not as good as Mom, but good.” She grins. Lucy is always particular about her hair. A few months ago, all she wanted were pigtails. Now, she’s switched to braids. I wonder what her next thing will be.

Lucy turns and sees me right away. “Oh, hey Mom!” she greets, skipping towards me.

“Hi, love, I like your braids,” I say. I glance up at Georgia, she’s not looking at either one of us. I won’t comment on it.

“Georgia did them!” She sounds proud. I feel myself start to smile. I don’t think Georgia realizes how much Lucy adores her.

“Nice work.” I look over at Georgia again, she’s still looking away.

“Thanks,” she says flatly. Her gaze doesn’t change. At least she doesn’t seem to be upset with Lucy. Only me.

It’s not personal, Charlotte. 

“Why are you guys being weird?” Lucy looks at me, and then at Georgia. I don’t have an answer to this question. Not a good one, at least.

“We’re not,” Georgia answers for me. Lucy looks unamused, clearly not satisfied by that answer.

“Yes you are, you guys are being so weird.” Lucy has never been good at backing down. I need to stop this before it turns into something bigger.

“Lucy, enough,” I say sharply.

“But—”

“Enough.” She doesn’t say anything after that. I’ll have to have some sort of talk with her later. I know she’ll ask again if I don’t.

I stand up, eye level with Georgia. She’s staring at me now. She looks distant. And sad. It breaks my heart. I’d give anything to take her in my arms, but I’m not sure it would solve anything at the moment. 

She’s not you, Charlotte. 

Right. She needs space. I have to let her figure it out, no matter how much it tears at me. I’m here. She knows it. Hopefully that’s enough for now.

[stickypiratevoid]

Why Writing Marinette Is So Hard For Me (and maybe you will relate)

I'd talked with my friend about MLB characters, particulary miss Mari Sue Bread-Maker here. Even though I cast aside my salty behaviour to her and trying to see her as a plastic doll figure to write as a character, I still can put a finger on her base personality. But I'm drawing blanks here. It's because when I look at her throughout the seasons, the writers always trying to stick cool things to her, never actually developing her base that would make a decent start in writing. It's like they got a bulletin board of her with some of her base personaliry being overwhelmed and stacked brim full with sticky notes of "cool", "quirky", and "not like the other girls" things because she is sooo amazing she needs to be good at everything except being near Adrien, teehee~

All I can think of is something her stans would call "personality" (which is quite questionable if you really want to meet that kind of person in real life) on this list :

Clumsy: This one is not a personality but a motoric problem and needed to get treated asap before you are flying down the stairs. Where's all the bruises she got if she falls for the nth time that day? Girl's skin are thinner than boys.

"Loving" Adrien: Again, not a personality but a problem that needs to be treated asap before she got jail time. That fireman is insane to help a teenager becoming a criminal early in her life. Don't tell me that's how he approaches his wife...

"Overly Planning": Thrice of again, go to therapy asap. We only see her doing this to Adrien, not even her mom got a ready gift for the next 20 years. You might say that it's different kind of "love" but nah. If she is a real planner, she would swipe out a gift for her mom asap from under her desk. If you follow with her having ALL of her classmates schedules, she would be burning through her textiles to get them presents for their birthday for at least another 2-3 years.

I asked again to another friend of mine who usually write ideas and AUs. He said that even though Mari Sue's talents are admirable in handiwork, it even got corroded when the seasons stretched out. It only got passing mention of a few minutes screentime of certain episodes, but there's nothing that can ties her "passion" to her personality. She doesn't examine the texture of textiles, saying that it feels appropriate for [project] (eye for details); she doesn't take notes or inspirations from a painting, feelings, or stories ; heck, she doesn't even carry her needle and threads everywhere she goes in case of something; not even excitedly rambling about fashion like freaking Alya rambling about her scoop of journalism. The little details is to build importance of her passion, and it shows that the writers just don't care.

No wonder all I can think of when thought of her is her creepy, stalkerish, obsessive, and control freak tendencies because it's what apparently stay coherent throughout the seasons.

Seriously. All I can do is making an entire whole new personalities for her and I don't freaking wanna do that because I want to go straight to writing with a decent base. I would lose my drive to write just to remember to separate Mari Sue canon self and what personality I think would fit in.

[jaymesyourplaything]

How have you been?

Great, actually! My hand has long term pain i guess, makes sense, but i can use it. Full use, but it gets tired and needs massaging often because of the pain, but it's not bad.

I've been mostly sober since I hurt my hand, a few relapses, but no large/long binges so far. Mentally I am very stable again because my meds work now, being sober. It's lovely. Life is so much better again.

I've been getting to spend more time with my kid, even started to teach them to play the Ukulele with me. Their idea, dw <3 Being sober has let me be with them again.

Personally, got in contact with my [abusive] mother, and things went very well, she's been in her own therapy, and she's apologized before. Though, if we go into detail, she still gets angry or denies remembering. I didn't even expect this much from her, so I don't mind. I told her some thoughts that seemed to help her, but because having her in my life has increased my anxiety attacks again (I have panic attacks too???) (They might be panic attacks.) and flashbacks/triggering episodes, I'll have to likely cut contact for my own health.

I think it's important to know that just because someone is better or wants to apologize, you have every right not to talk to them. Just because they are your parent, you never have to forgive or have them in your life, if you went low/no contact. I even forgave her, but I had no relationship with her the last 2 years after forgiving her because at the time she would still be toxic in real time. I was protecting myself from future pain. If someone doesn't change, you really don't have to. But, I forgave her, but find because of my abuse/cptsd having contact with her brings those memories back and brings me to breakdowns anyway. I am traumatized, and I can't undo that. Know to always take care of yourself, even if others try to pressure you to "move on".

I did move on. Moving on for me, is having my family, my home, living here, and not thinking about the abuse. Not thinking about my mom. You don't even have to forgive them, but moving on doesn't mean forgiving. Moving on is different for everyone. I've been moving on, and it's been without her.

I don't know if all that makes sense, but I hope maybe someone feels better? That people will tell you to forgive and forget, but forgetting is impossible. They tell you to move on, but moving on might include never talking to or about the problem again, and they act like that's not the solution. Don't bottle it up, I do talk about it, with trusted ones, but other than that I move on. I think of my life now. Not my life then. If I did, I would only repeat it. The pain, or continuing the cycle of abuse.

I was going to visit [my home state, my grandparents] but [my mother] started sending me vague threats and we couldn't feel safe enough to make the trip worth it at this time. We're likely going to do a surprise trip later when she won't know we're coming up. I have been in contact with the rest of my family too, I am excited to meet up with them again. She made me believe they weren't my family my whole life. She robbed me. </3 But again, no worries about present me. I have a whole family now. I even call my in law's mum and dad now. They like it, they encouraged it. They've raised me the last 8 years since I escaped.

So, yes, things are great! My life is doing so much better now! Despite some struggles I'm getting past, my life is quite fairytale in how perfect it is. Then again, my dissociative disorder makes things a little, fuzzy. That's where some of the "unreal" feeling comes from. I'm happy, and stuck. It happens. Things are good. (:

[ambivalenceshefelt]

🖤 BLACK HEART

— what would you say is the darkest thought you've ever experienced? what do you think caused you to have that thought? have you ever planned on or fantasized about acting on it?

"There was this incident...it was after we lost Damian, before therapy. Insomnia was getting out of hand and..after a certain point on, a point of not sleeping for days upon days —and pain and stress..everything becomes impaired.” she chose that word carefully. “Physical, mental, emotional health..behavior. It’s all fair game. Or rather a horribly unfair one” she clarified. “There’s a constant emotional instability and a negative thought process..mood swings..and even a little bit of paranoia involved maybe.” She let out a breath. She was already screwing herself up mentally again so it might as well be out there, all of it.

“We were having dinner, trying to act like a tightly knit family. Mom was taking her nerves out on Erica to the point she left the house to blow off steam, the girls were trying to survive the chaos and handle the kids..and dad was lost in thoughts of work, he did not cope...” she shook her head. “I don’t know how or when or why exactly but…mom just started going hard at me. Drilling like it was her life mission; my hair was the wrong color, my dress not ironed enough, I was breathing too loud.” she was becoming frantic remembering it. She placed a hand on her chest, taking a deep breath; counting three in, one pause and four out like her therapist told her to. “She just wouldn’t stop. And I just…I was holding this steak knife and..I looked at it and I spaced out and thought..no, I like saw it happen. Like..I could literally plunge this knife in my gut, or my neck, and she’d say ’Nicole Imogen Keaton, you have no respect for our meal and the work I do. You got blood all over my good tablecloth.’ She really would!”

“I don’t know..I mean, I didn’t do it, clearly but..the thought was so vivid.” she waved her hands a little. “That is literally an intrusive thought, you know? The voice in your head saying ‘stab yourself, stab her’ and mine was yelling at me..in my mom’s voice too.” She was a wreck by now. “But I didn’t.” she nodded slowly. “I stabbed her fancy tablecloth though. And she flipped out even more but my dad snapped out of whatever limbo we were in and literally threw me over his shoulder and got me out. Oddly enough, that didn’t hit them hard enough to see I needed help” she laughed bitterly. Like what else did they need to see she was slowly losing grip? “Well, I can’t say I’ve never wanted to knock someone’s head against a wall again but at least I never wanted to stab them or myself. Progress.”

[cutesharkstudios]

Mother's Here CH. 4

(This chapter takes place a few months after Watching and Dreaming) Camilla was sleeping after her last work day of the week. She covered for some sick co-workers who got better shortly afterwards, so her boss gave her a 3 day weekend. She then started to hear weird cracking noises, but she didn't think much of it. Until a bolt of lightning struck the tree right outside her house.

Camilla: DIOS MIO!

She then got up to check up on her kids. She didn't like the idea that they would be scared, so she wanted to check on them. When she got to the stairs, she saw her kids, Luz Vee and Hunter, had all gotten up to check on her.

They embraced each other, glad that the others were safe and sound.

Hunter: Hey, I'd take that over boiling rain any day.

Vee: I second that.

Camilla: Wait, boiling rain?

Luz: Yep, from the boiling ocean. Not sure why it boils, but it does.

Camilla: How did you survive there?

Luz: I'm your daughter. You'd be shocked what a Noceda can do with some hope and a little bit of light magic.

Camilla: Well, you don't have to worry about that here. I'm just glad my babies are safe.

Vee: And we're happy you are safe too.

Hunter: You know, the boiling isles isn't as scary when you've been there for a while. I only remember you going there to fight Belos with us. Maybe you could come by some time.

Camilla: Yeah, it's Thursday night, I already put in my 40 hours, I could totally go there. Tell you what, let's do a day trip tommorrow, just the 4 of us.

Hunter: Cool, I could introduce you to Darius. He'd be interested in your sewing machine, since he sews in his spare time.

Vee: I'll have to be home in time to prepare for my date with Masha, but sure.

They then heard knocking on the door. Camilla opened it to see Amity, absolutely drenched and looking worried beyond beleif.

Amity: I sensed Luz was scared. Is she okay.

Luz: Mi vida! I'm fine, but are you okay, you look like you booked it all the way from the isles.

Amity: Don't worry Luz, I'll be fine.

(The next day)

Amity: Aaaaachoo!

Vee: Bless you.

Amity spent the night at the Noceda household, as Camilla didn't like the idea of Amity going out in the rain again. She wound up catching the cold, and the Noceda family carried her to the isles to get her proper doctors. Luz explained that she got the Boiling Isles mold and she was fine afterwards, so maybe Amity would be fine after a day or two.

They opened the door to Blight manor, seeing Emira on her scroll calling people with worry in her voice. After hanging up, she looked at the door and saw Amity, whom she tackle hugged.

Emira: AMITY! Are you okay? We didn't see you this morning and saw your window was open, so we wondered what happened.

After Alador, Darius, and Edric met up with the group, Amity explained the situation.

Alador: Wow, on one hand, please don't do that again, but good on you for being there for Luz.

Darius: Have fun on your day together Noceda family.

Luz: Are you sure you don't need me to help with Amity?

Alador: We don't want to impose on your plans. Also, this is an opertunity for me to step up as a father for once.

Amity: I am so sorry for the inconvienience!

Camilla: Don't be, we're here to help.

Their first stop was the owl house. Camilla only got to be there a couple of times when she helped her kids out during the fight agains Belos, so she was glad to meet up and properly introduce herself to the Clawthornes. After the Day Of Unity events, Lilith and Gwen moved in with Eda. Raine and Eda had just gotten engaged the previous month.

Gwen: So you're Luz's mom. I'm Eda's mom, Gwen.

Camilla: Glad to meet you. I've heard of some of the crazy stuff that happened on the isles.

Lilith: Then I take it you've heard of my……shenanigans.

Camilla: Normally I'd break your spine for trying to impale my daughter, but given the circumstances you were in plus the genuine remorse you feel, I'll let it slide.

Raine: Your daughter is a delight. Seriously, she got Ms. "Who needs therapy when I have apple blood" to open up and heal.

Eda: Yeah, ever since I met her, I've been less of a drinker, I've been in a better mood, and I got back together with the love of my life.

Camilla: Well Luz does that to people. Say Gwen, what did you think I was like before we officially met?

Gwen: I figured you would be a lot like your daughter, and it appears I was right. Though I did owe Eda and Raine a bit of an apology after I was introduced to her.

Eda: I told Raine about that incident.

Raine: Yeah, that was so akward.

Luz: What did you ask Eda?

Gwen: I, may or may not, have thought before our introduction that you were Raine and Eda's kid.

Eda and Raine silightly blushed at that, as they mentioned wanting kids one day but had to think about it a bit more. Camilla and Luz went wide eyed at that revelation. And then Camilla just started laughing.

Camilla: I don't blame you! You two are so alike!

Lilith: Yeah, Luz is so much like Eda. Here's hoping she gets a better future though.

Eda: Eh, given where I am now, I would go through that again if I had to.

Camilla: So, where do you think is the best spot for a visit? My 3 day weekend only lasts so long.

Eda: I'd recommend the beastkeeping sanctuary.

Raine: I think the bard music building woudl be wonderful.

Lilith: Pop by the museam!

Camilla: Okay, why not?

[rabble-dabble]

its anger until they learn its a father. "men are like that," she told me, when he's still sleeping his blackout from last night off and she's been awake since six that morning. "they never admit to their feelings."

i've learned all the bad things to look out for. they gaslight reality into their version of things, strangers on the internet say, until the memory becomes true and the victim doubts their own sanity. i can't remember who started the arguement but somehow, i'm always wrong. i thought, maybe, i was just too immature to understand, too young to get why he was so cruel to me. you and your generation are so sensitive, he told me over and over again. you're so sensitive, it was just a joke. i cried in his arms when i reported my mom to cps, scared of her reaction, scared she'd come after me despite living thousands of miles away. the joke was me acting like my mom. you need help, he told me - the same man who screamed in my face with booze breath about how maybe i deserved what i got. maybe i deserved what i got - the same man who held me at birth and told me about my big bright eyes - and i am the reason i am so broken. get help, yells the same man who told me he went to therapy and got 'fixed'. i have been in therapy for six months.

my therapist tells me to move on - i should clarify, she's actually a counsler, a kind woman who i see every two weeks. "what do you want from this relationship?" she asks me. "my brother and i, we used to be at each others throats, and then when we got older-" i listen to how she found peace with her siblings. she doesn't mention her parents. i think about my brother, who got the worst of the abuse, and how we haven't talked in a while. "i want an apology, i want a sorry, i want a father," i tell her, crying as i remember my dad screaming at me. "it doesn't sound like he's the type of person who will give that to you," she responded.

we talk about expectations vs. reality. is this my fate? is this my world, to never expect recogniztion for what happened to me? "you need to let it go, it happened over six months ago," my aunt says. her husband won't put his food away before leaving to hunt. he leaves his trash on the counter, which she throws away as she shakes her head and throws another chore on her ever growing list of things to take care of. "i know your father. his behavior is in his namesake. you expect him to change, but he will never change." he is in his fourties. a grown man who is not even halfway through life; i turn 21 this year, and last year on my birthday he called me a bitch for not calling my mom while i was going to the movies with my best friend. i bought my own birthday cake, and he made me feel guilty for asking him to pick it up as if it was too much of a chore for him. he hadn't taken me to the dmv to get my license so i could legally start driving. "stop trying to change your father." change him? i am asking for the bare minimum. i am asking for a person who is supposed to love me to love me kindly. i asked him if we could get therapy together. he told me no.

my counsler said i was stuck between wanting a relationship and needing to move on. "you need to find peace." but i don't know if i will find the peace she means - every male figure i have seen has been given every reason not to try harder. my mother's boyfriend didn't look after his own kids, even when i had to leave school to wash my baby sister after she vomitted from a fever. my dad never brought in the groceries, just sat in a chair drinking mike's lemonade while he watched me and my stepmom and two stepsisters bring in the bags and put it all away. my aunt's husband made their dog have puppies recently- and my aunt is exhausted from taking care of them, despite not wanting them. what peace is there to find here? to find peace with how the world "works", with how these men will do anything to be incompetent to their partners? to their families? i am just angry. i don't want to find peace in these situations! these women deserve better. i deserve better. but i am told i can do nothing to change it- i am merely the child of a father. worse- i was born a daughter, a servant; a peacemaker. "i am angry!" i told my therapist. "it's not fair!"

"i know," she says. i cry and think about an apology i will never get. all men are- i have heard this over and over. i do not want to be the person who finds peace in this broken machine, in those broken words. i want to tear it all down, piece by piece, until there are no more 'all men are'. i want to be angry, i want to be vicious, to snarl back as i refuse to be another victim finding peace with this standard of incompetent men. they can do better, i scream to the machine, tearing at rusting metal with my hardened hands, hold them accountable, for the love of god, be angry!

if i'm to find peace i want to do it bloodsoaked. if i have to find peace with no remorse then i will do it with sharp claws and teeth, with gentle hands but an aware mind. i do not want to find peace with dull contempt, i want to find it with the knowledge i will not allow my life to be dictated by this low standard. my dad tells me you will never truly be a real man. i tell him with a smile, at least i won't be a man like you.

[yalexxiii]

cw: brief mentions of contemplating suicide

“eVEryOnE’s A LittLE NeURoDIverGeNT” shut up shut the fuck up

If that was the case then why are neurodivergent people still being ostracized? If everyone is a little neurodivergent as you say, then why is there ableism towards them? By extension, why is there a term used to describe them and only them? The term ‘neurodivergent’ wouldn’t need to exist because everyone would fit under it in some way.

Also, I cannot begin to describe how difficult it has been so far to get diagnosed with adhd (or even getting tested for it). So I started questioning if I was because not only was I looking at symptoms online and thinking “yeah, I have experienced X/felt Y in Z situation,” but also because the majority of my friends (who, mind you, are neurodivergent themselves) have said that I radiate those vibes.

Okay, I could be wrong. My friends could be wrong. I could be misinterpreting a lot of things and remember stuff that didn’t happen.

However, that doesn’t negate the fact that I have been told that same thing 100% of the time I tell someone I think I might have adhd.

I mentioned it to my mom, she said that (granted she might not understand how all this works because she still uses the terms mild and severe while describing autism). I also mentioned it to my doctor and she ALSO said that. And I was like “okay, she specializes in medicine and more physical health than mental, maybe she also just isn’t as educated as I want her to be.”

And I was right, and I know this because she sent my mom a list of counselors/therapists that specialize in the field (supposedly, again I might be remembering wrong).

So I have my first session with my therapist, I’m telling her why I’m here (not only bc of me may or may not having adhd, but also bc i told my doctor and by extent my mother that i might kill myself before I reach thirty). She asks me to describe what symptoms I saw in myself/my friends saw in me and-

Okay is this a me problem or is it next to impossible to describe the exact symptoms? My friends haven’t really described exact symptoms other than one time where they said that listening to one song on loop for hours on end (which is something i do) is a version of stimming. And that moment I felt so stupid that I couldn’t name any off the top of my head but also upset that she kinda expected me to come in, manila folder in hand, of every symptom I saw in myself.

But that honestly wasn’t the part that stuck with me from that session. Because the thing is…

SHE ALSO TOLD ME THAT EVERYONE IS A LITTLE NEURODIVERGENT.

Granted, paraphrasing, but she said it multiple times iirc.

And maybe this is just a case where she wanted to tell me that I was not alone in feeling these things, but also I feel like I’m being dismissed and not being taken seriously repeatedly. At least tell me I could get tested, stop beating around the bush.

And after all that, she told me that I could take the Raads-R test, which, if you don’t know, is an eighty question quiz you can take to see if you show signs of autism (autism, not even adhd like I came in for. But then again if I have one chances are I likely have the other). So obviously, because I came into therapy again to help me get answers to my questions, I take the quiz with my mom so she can help me with parts of the question.

And that’s another thing I don’t like so far about trying to be diagnosed. Every quiz I’ve taken to see if there’s a possibility I’m neurodivergent always has to have the most polar answers ever. It’s always either “I always do this” or “I never do this.” Leaves no room for sometimes and maybes.

The Raads-R test is only different in the case where it also specifies age in its answers (like, it has answers like “I have done this only when I was sixteen/ older than sixteen.” Which I’m not sure how to feel about when I’m fifteen and the quiz was likely made only with adults in mind, but whatever.

So I finish the test and I get a score of 154. Which rounds up to 160, which according to the test, means that there is strong evidence indicating I have autism. I’m not sure if the test is completely accurate, but me scoring that high on a test that a licensed therapist recommended me taking has to mean something.

And me scoring that high on the test only makes me more pissed at people who say that everyone is a little neurodivergent. Because it both invalidates experiences of people who are indeed neurodivergent and, from experience, likely discourages people from getting a diagnosis in the first place.

Sorry for kinda ranting about this, but sometimes shit gets me peeved and I need to gather my thoughts and get negative feelings out of my system. And I’m keeping in mind that I have only seen that therapist once ever. Things could change and I may just be jumping to conclusions. Hell, I could wind up not even being neurodivergent.

But hearing that over and over while I’m trying to have someone take me seriously is so tiring and makes me want to give up on trying. And I can only imagine how tired people WITH diagnoses are with hearing that.

TL;DR: No, not everyone is neurodivergent, and imo saying that is invalidating to what actual neurodivergent people experience. Neurodivergence is a spectrum, but not every living person is on that spectrum.

[lucysweatslove]

TW/Content warning re: domestic violence, IPV, questioning. May be v. triggering for victims/survivors of DV and IPV especially those who were not believed. (btw it is NOT about me directly; I am in a loving and generally healthy relationship and I have never personally experienced DV (as a side-side note, one of my best friends has, we helped her get out))

So. My sister is visiting my parents atm. My mom's family reunion thing is going on rn and my sis drove up to attend. (I have just barely started to feel like Me again after Rural Site Adventure, hence opting out).

Background, p 1: my family has a fam friend we'll call N. N was a past student of my mom's, I think potentially a past client but I can't fully remember the story there. She is "in between" my parents' age and mine/my sister's- I'm not sure if she's technically a young Gen X or an older Millennial, but just to give some context regarding age. My family gave her a lot of support when she was getting her life set up, including financial support in the form of interest-free loans. When my little sis was tiny (she is very much Gen Z, still in high school), N lived with us and would help out a ton around the house, with child care, even doing things like chaperoning my dates when I was in high school. There was a bit of a blow-up idk how long ago where my mom felt like N was mothering my little sis too much and boundaries were getting mixed up, and then idk when but then they made up. I've been mostly out of the house for 12 years and totally living away from them for like 9 years, so I don't remember a lot of the specifics.

Background, p 2: My parents' relationship is not great. The gist is: a lot of infidelity from dad and my mom has a lot of emotional lability for as long as I can remember. She can get pretty mean and is prone to a lot of emotional manipulation and tactics like gaslighting, goalpost-moving, triangulation with me + my older sis, guilt-tripping, diminishing others' experiences... i mean we all do these things from time to time, but she does them very often and only on the VERY rare occasion does she take responsibility (I am not saying my dad's infidelity was caused by my mom's emotional lability or that it set off the emotional lability, and I'm not excusing anybody's behaviors; I think all of this is super multi-factorial). Early on when I was in college, before I really knew much, my dad sat us all down (with my mom, after talking with her) and confessed to his infidelity + said he was considering divorcing mom to be with the woman he was cheating with. I laid into him basically saying that running away from all of us wouldn't solve whatever lead to his cheating and make him happy. He already is once divorced (idk why/what happened with his prior marriage, he hadn't yet met my mom even so that wasn't it). I told him maybe he needs to figure out what HE needs to change rather than flitting around from person to person hoping it'll work out. He decided to stay, they went to therapy, there have been no signs of further incidence (not that it's impossible, but my mom also monitors everything his does including his whereabouts via his phone 24/7). Though my mom will say she's forgiven him, she doesn't act like it- and I get trust has been broken, but it extends further to like, financial control, eg, refusing to let my dad who is actually considered elderly now retire, won't let him buy a new speaker system while my mom takes multiple long international trips. And my parents are well-off. They have the money for all of that.

Okay now the issue.

Apparently N was talking with my sister and mentioned something about Mom and domestic violence. My sis asked if I've ever heard any of their issues phrased like that- and no, never. That alone doesn't mean much - although my mom has called BOTH of us in tearful crisis-mode before and has shared more than I think is appropriate, DV is like the one thing many victims/survivors hide and never actually speak up about.

But... my mom is not shy with her body around any of us. Not a nudist, but has no issue changing while talking with us, going to the bathroom with doors open. She has never "hidden" her body in any way at home. She will hide sometimes (choosing baggier clothing, longer sleeves or lengths) when she is out in public, but I think this is partly Mormon modesty and partly body image issues, as again, she has never taken any precautions to hide her body around us kids. In all my memorable life, I have never not once seen unexplained injuries on my mom. I have seen a few small bruises on legs or arms and not known exactly where they have come- but honestly, I would see them after she was doing manual type labor like moving wood, working outside, reorganizing the pantry, moving heavy furniture... and never bruises in a weird pattern or suspicious location, never multiple bruises in different stages of healing.

I also don't sleep well and often don't have a good 24 hr sleep cycle. I don't think I'm non-24, but my sleep/wake cycles are highly variable. My little sister would have night terrors, too, and wake up from them not remembering but also needing help settling back to bed (she would come and get me or ask to sleep in my room frequently). Since I was the only other person upstairs, I stayed up to listen for her terrors so I could be there when she woke up and she wouldn't have to toddle around to find support. This means that during middle school and all throughout high school, I very rarely slept throughout the night. This also means I heard many many many fights between my parents. I have also quietly tiptoed down the stairs to see what tf was going on more times than I can count. I have never seen any signs of physical aggression from my father in these arguments. Definitely both sides are v guilty of emotional and verbal abuse, which is still abuse and is still a problem. I'm just saying I have never seen outward aggression (hitting, punching, kicking, flailing, throwing anything at all, breaking anything, etc) nor have I seen posturing or yelling. More times than not, if somebody even raised their voice, it was my mom.

When I was a child and spanking was still a think "experts" recommended (apparently), my mom would tell my dad to spank me for a punishment, and my dad couldn't do it and would pretend- he would whisper to me that he was going to put his hand palm-up and smack his own hand so it "looked" real if my mom was watching, and I was to scream and cry so it sounded real.

My dad was a vet before he was a psychiatrist. He left vet medicine in part because he was so sad every time he had to put down an animal, or see animals being mistreated. We had many animals growing up from dogs to hamsters and rats and guinea pigs to horses and bird and fish and cats. 0 signs of aggression with them- the worst thing is when he's really mad because a dog went potty in the house he'd get kinda gruff and grumble and swear.

This does not mean that my dad cannot ever be aggressive, or has not ever been aggressive. This does not mean that when I'm not around he acts the same way. I'm not saying it is impossible, or that my mom is definitely lying or "lying by omission" and hinting that the verbal abuse has extended to physical abuse too. I'm not saying things haven't been hidden from me.

I'm just saying... in my nearly 3 decades of life, I have not once seen my dad be truly aggressive. Even while drunk- he's not aggressive, he gets giggly and silly and then tired and falls asleep. My sisters (both of them) have not seen anything, any signs. Even looking back retroactively- nothing that we can say "omg maybe that was a sign we missed." In the patterns I've seen, including where my parents don't know I'm witnessing it, my dad is a huge pushover and my mom will show more signs of anger and aggression. I am getting weird vibes from all of this, and I'm legitimately concerned about why my mom is saying / insinuating these things.

Edit bc I forgot a part that I wanted to share but got too distracted.

My mom also has had some health stuff. She has MGUS which is kinda like a blood pre-cancer, specifically for her it’s like pre-multiple myeloma, but progression is slow and prognosis is overall good. But, this was discovered during workup for pernicious anemia. There’s no real known time frame for how long she had pernicious anemia. B12 deficiency (a main cause of pernicious anemia) can lead to a host of psych stuff including cognitive slowing, confusion, changes in memory, depression, and sometimes even delirium or acute psychosis. She did do B12 shots but it’s been a while since she’s done them, I think. But during that time, her memories were WEIRD. Like she would mix up things between us kids frequently, invent random and totally benign memories (she was convinced I not only ran track in 4th/ 5th grade but was really good at it, when reality was I tried to get out of running in PE because it hurt my throat/burned to breathe while running).

When she was a child, there was also possibly some DV in the home? It’s kind of unclear what exactly happened, but it’s a real possibility. My granny had some form of psychosis at one point- again not sure exactly because this was a long time ago (my mom’s a boomer) but I was told had a gyn condition that would cause her hallucinate/send her into an acute psychotic state, and once she had a hysterectomy, she was better. There was speculation it was ovarian cysts (per my mother; also, not PCOS) but never a confirmation. I have had a burst ovarian cyst that sent me to the hospital and I thought I was dying from the pain, but no psychosis. Anyway. My sis and I wonder if she had a teratoma and had autoimmune encephalopathy.

The point tho, my granny would hallucinate something like dishes in the sink and tell my mom to do them, but there wouldn’t be any dishes to do. So then granny would think she was blatantly disobedient, and punishment back then sometimes was corporal. I don’t have details from my mom, so I don’t know what happened, but we now know that any corporal punishment is detrimental and essentially DV, so regardless of how far it went, it’s problematic.

So, what I’m getting at: my mom has historically had B12 deficiency bad enough to have serious pernicious anemia, and my sis and I noticed a major cognitive shift around that time. She would mix up memories all the time. Since she’s had it before, she could develop it again. And that could lead to increased irritability, cognitive change, MEMORY issues. And she likely has very real DV memories.

Me, wanting to see best in everybody bc I’m just the perfect picture of an optimist (sarcasm), wonders: what if my mom currently has pernicious anemia and B12 deficiency again to the point her memory and cognition are all kinds of messed up, and she’s confusing her real memories from her childhood with my dad? Especially if the same feelings (eg powerlessness) came up.