#and i keep accidentally triggering myself. (thank you intrusive thoughts.)

[gothicmisa]

drama L & ocd

thank you @matsvda​ for helping me with these (big fat heart emoji)

trigger warning for this post: as context for the ocd headcanons i’ll be talking a little bit about a @51161121​‘s childhood headcanon for L which includes childhood neglect, eventual abandonment, and hospital trauma. further down the line, tw for unsanitary behaviors, ocd compulsions & intrusive thoughts, skin picking and hairpulling (dermatillomania and trichotillomania), and magical thinking i.e “if i avoid doing this, then i will have good luck/bad luck” (same vein as like. “reblog this post or x will happen” kind of thinking)

the childhood headcanons wrt L’s mom and his homelessness are credited to @51161121 lmao it’s their headcanon im just living in it--

L's mom was rlly neglectful and not. a good mom. she eventually abandons him in their trailer home when he's six years old and leaves him a little cash but that's it.

he ends up living on the streets. he doesn't wear socks or shoes bc they overstimulate him and he Hates Them, and because of this he accidentally steps in shattered glass. the infection is so bad he ends up in the hospital. L Hates The Hospital To This Day bc he fought the staff so much they put him in a CHILD RESTRAINT SLEEPING BAG

i think this experience could have lead to like. (L's internal thought process) "i never want to go to the hospital ever again."--> "i will never get sick or hurt again." --> "to keep myself from getting sick or hurt i will  do things to avoid getting sick" --> germaphobia --> contamination ocd compulsions.

i think also, relating to how disgusting his childhood home would have been, he might feel a need to keep things a certain way (with watari's assistance) bc like the idea of living like that again makes him crawl the walls so. neatness compulsions and feeling like everything needs to be his definition of  "right" even though they might not make sense to other people i.e: he doesn’t make the bed because its fine all rumpled up, but if you put your shoes in the wrong place he gets >:(

a list of L's compulsions and other germaphobia-related eccentricities

doesn't like brushing his hair with a brush because he hates that dead hair and skin remain on the brush from the last time someone brushed their hair with it

toothbrush has to have a protective little cover on the head of it or its contaminated and he will get sick if he uses it 

all of the doors in countermeasures can be opened hands-free if he chooses

the lighting is also hands-free; he controls the dimness and brightness from his computer

he doesn't clean his keyboard because "my hands are always clean" so it's probably actually due to be cleaned but if watari cleans it L will throw a fit

we already knew this but he can't stand wearing filthy clothes. he changes his shirt approximately three times a day but usually more than that. pants he can handle wearing for a little longer. he won't wear socks. 

he wears a sick mask every time he goes out of the hotel.

he compulsively washes and sanitizes his hands. he scrubs at his hands with scentless exfoliants every time he washes them. on top of the excessive washing, he is constantly using hand sanitizer. the smell of normal hand sanitizer repulses him and reminds him of the disinfectant smell of a hospital so he uses candy apple scented hand sanitizer. it's green. although if he's really anxious about washing his hands that day, he'll rinse his hands in hydrogen peroxide and lemon juice. awful

because of the hand washing and the sanitizing and the exfoliating and the Rinsing With Chemicals and Acid compulsions, his hands have extremely dry skin. (L's internal monologue) dry skin = dead skin. dead skin is unsanitary. i have to pick my skin now

because of the dry skin and the skin picking on his hands, they tend to be raw and hurt all the time. he hates bandaids because they leave a sticky residue and that overstimulates him (and it also makes dirt stick and collect on his hands and he'd literally rather die than let that happen) but he DOES love the neosporin that has the pain relief additives. he goes through a tube of it per week. its clean.

to combat the washing and picking, watari will insist on putting lotion on L's hands and then making him wear cotton gloves. L resists at first until he realizes this is Genius-- 1, he doesn't have to wash his hands if he never touches anything with his bare skin and 2, putting on lotion and then putting on the gloves is a little bad sensory-wise, but it ensures that his skin gets rehydrated and moisturized which means no more pain and no more picking

the only compromise L makes with the cotton gloves is that it has to be a fresh pair every time. he will not wear the same gloves once he's used them once. 

he believes in luck and his intrusive thoughts make him. do things that will apparently "bring him good luck" or "avoid giving him bad luck" but these are private thoughts of his so no one can rlly. prove to him they don't work or argue with him (magical thinking)

L is autistic and counts his steps whether or not he’s enacting compulsions. he loves the number 7 because it’s lucky and often just recites 1234567 in his head, but it turns into a compulsion when he gets anxious. “if i dont count out loud RIGHT now something bad is going to happen to me/my brothers/watari”

of course, once L starts. interacting w people that don't just stay in one building all the time, germs and stuff naturally will be present when these ppl come in to work w him. L makes watari spray them w disinfectant.

if he Does get sick, he would rather die than admit it, because if he admits he got sick he thinks he will be forced to go to the hospital. watari has explained to him a thousand times that he would never force L to go to the hospital over a flu, cold, or stomach virus, but L doesn't believe him.

L also resists taking medicine when he isn't feeling well because "how long have these been sitting in the bottle with the safety seal removed? they've been exposed to the air. that's disgusting". a lil headcanon of mine about his childhood would be that his mom never restocked the medicine cabinet so everything was always expired. L will refuse to take medicine until it expires and then joyfully throw them out.

L's compulsion to pick his hands turned into a compulsion to pick his face and whoops! now he has dermatillomania and trichotillomania. 

he has a special face washing routine. he uses special products for his skin type (he has an oily T-zone but his cheeks are dry) and if he doesn't do this routine every morning and night, he picks his face. and his eyebrows. watari knows if L is failing to practice self care re:hygiene because L will have no eyebrows and red welts on his face from picking.  

L: am i stacking my food right now because i think its neat (autism) or because i have to (ocd)? we will never know

#death note #death note 2015 tv drama #l lawliet #headcanons

[juniper-sides]

Never Alone: Epilogue

AN: This is the final chapter of “Never Alone”. Finally!!! Thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story. I sincerely appreciate the support that you all have provided, even of just reading and sticking along for the ride. Just a quick note: I am by no means an expert on mental health! While I experience some mental issues, I’m not an expert even on the ones that I experience. Everyone experiences them differently, so my depiction is going to be different from someone else’s. I included my references at the end of this chapter, as well as some resources for anyone who needs them!

Trigger Warnings: None except for some referenced PTSD. No explicit panic attacks, though. Intrusive Thought is also discussed heavily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months later

A sniffle-turned-sob woke Roslyn from her midnight nap. (The work would not finish itself, after all). With a sigh, she stretched and stood up from where she had been laying across her work desk. A hissing breath escaped her as her shoulders protested.

“I really need to start planning breaks during my work.”

Opening the door to the hallway confirmed her suspicions, someone was crying just a few rooms away. They certainly were not being quiet about it, either, if she could hear it behind closed doors.

The sobs led her just outside Anxiety’s room, or more accurately, Anxiety and Depression’s room. Both of the Sides had her own Space, but they usually opted to stay close to one another. Logic had noticed Depression would follow Anxiety into her room, likewise Anxiety would follow Depression to hers. Roslyn suspected that the two still suffered from their treatment under Intrusive Thought, but had not had the chance to ask either of them about it.

Speaking of, Roslyn herself could not talk about it either. While Anxiety and Depression had certainly endured a lot under the wicked Side, Logic, had experienced her own share of abuse. So many nights....

Logic shook her head to rid herself of the dark thoughts and continued on her way.

She carefully knocked on the door, rapping quietly so as not to wake the others.

“Anxiety? Depression? It’s Logic. Is everything alright?” 

The sobs instantly ceased at her words, soft whispers barely audible. Finally, Depression opened the door.

“Hey, Logic. Look, everything’s fine. We’re just, just talkin’ about some stuff.” 

Logic narrowed her eyes and adjusted her glasses. ““Some stuff” sounds as though it is rather difficult to discuss.” 

Depression’s gaze was nearly unreadable as she defensively crossed her arms. She leaned against the door frame, blocking the room.

“Look, we’re fine. Anx and me are doin’ alright. We’re jus’-”

Before she could finish, a pale hand appeared on her shoulder. Depression turned to face Anxiety, who’s blotchy face and terrified eyes begged for comfort.

Logic hummed thoughtfully. “If the two of you were interested, I was thinking about making some chamomile tea. It’s very soothing and seems to quiet the mind. I’ll be in the kitchen.” And with that, she turned away and left for the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logic, Anxiety, and Depression found themselves quietly sitting around the kitchen table with steaming mugs in their hands. The calm serenity of the household was marred only by the awkwardness the trio were engrossed in.

Logic was the first to break it. 

“So, I understand if you do not want to discuss your fears and feelings, but I would like to give you two the opportunity to tell me how you feel free of judgement.” 

Depression narrowed her eyes. “How do we know that you’re not gonna judge us or tell the others?”

“Well, I am the personification of logic. I merely decide things based on a logical standpoint. There is no room for my own personal judgement. That is more Emotion’s area of experience, no offense to her. Furthermore, I believe that it would be in our best interest to keep this conversation private.”

“...You just said that you decide things free of judgement.” 

“Indeed, I did.” Logic couldn’t help the smile that came to her face. “Call it Emotion’s way of rubbing off on me. But nevertheless, this conversation will remain private and non-judgmental. I’m certainly no saint, what right do I have to judge either of you?”

Depression continued to stare at the intellectual Side for another moment before she sighed. “Fair.”

The silence continued again, the three uncertainly glancing at one another.

“I suppose I should call out the elephant in the room,” began Logic, “I do not hold the two of you responsible for what you’ve done. I admit that I have been under Her influence before, it is difficult to break out of. Her promises...” She trailed off, a distant look in her eyes.

“She...has a certain way with words that makes you believe her. No matter what she tells you, it’s easy to believe and hard to contradict. Even I, one who is responsible for intellect and rationale, found it hard to oppose her.” 

She shook her head, sniffing furiously as Anxiety and Depression stared in shock.

“I don’t...I do not blame either of you for what you did. I can understand why you felt you had no other choice. What matters is that the two of you are trying your best to do better and have left her.”

Logic took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the overflowing tears desperately.

Depression glanced at Anxiety, her own expression of shock mirrored there. “We, I, thought ya hated us. You avoid us so much and...and we helped her. We helped her do what she did. It’s our fault.”

Something crossed Logic’s face, a shadow of fear and remembrance.

She shook her head again, a watery smile on her face. “No, I don’t hate you. I was mad and upset at one point, but intellect has since won out. The two of you were under her influence, a place that I know all too well. It is incredibly difficult to break out of someone’s control like hers. I myself almost did not, had it not been for the adrenaline and heat of the moment.

“No, I do not hate either of you. I am not mad at either of you. I forgive both of you, and would actually like to repair the relationship between us, if possible.”

Anxiety clutched her mug closer to her quivering chest, lip trembling.

“Aren’t you....aren’t we....we’re bad. Sh-she said...so!” The tears spilled down her cheeks as she tucked herself into Depression’s side.

Logic pulled another cloth from her pocket and handed it to Depression, who gingerly passed it to Anxiety.

“No, that is something I have learned, as well.” Logic sighed and crossed her legs, arms coming up to grasp her elbows.

“She told me that...that she was the true voice of reason. She said that I was nothing but....but....” Her voice trailed off as memories flooded into her.

Depression paused, then laid a hand on her shoulder. “She...she called ya some nasty things. She said some horrid stuff that you thought was true then.”

Logic took a breath and nodded, eyes shining with tears that flowed unabashedly. 

“...’S alright. Take yer time. We get it.”

Logic took some steadying breaths, shoulders shaking with the sobs that she strained to contain. Finally, the strain lessened enough for her to continue.

“Yes, she said some...horrible things. Horrible lies, I’m learning now. No matter how true her statements feel, they are nothing but intrusiveness on her part.

“I have been doing research since....since we all escaped. An important fact that has been brought to my attention is that intrusive thoughts do not mean someone is evil. In fact, they seem to oppose the core values of someone. So our Host is not inherently evil. The existence of her does not mean that any of us are doing a poor job.

“In the same vein, thoughts are akin to flowers. Tend to a thought, and it will thrive and flourish. Leave it alone, and it will eventually wither and die. As such, granting her the attention that she craves fuels her energy and power. We must strive to lessen the power she desires by accepting her nature.”

Depression raised an eyebrow. “Uh...so what’re you saying?”

“I’m saying that she is an automatic response. We are not evil by her presence. No matter what she tells any of us, she is looking for a reaction. That is what fuels her.”

“So...stop reacting and she’ll leave us alone?” 

“Well, that is the unfortunate part. Intrusiveness such as hers is more common than we think. In fact, it is believed that everyone has intrusive thoughts to some degree. What creates the debilitating nature is the provision of attention and validation.”

Anxiety wiped away the last of her tears and hiccuped. “So...’cause we were all scared of her...we...acciden...accidentally made her...stronger?”

“Exactly.” Logic nodded somberly. “The only way to combat her is to either ignore her or laugh off her ideas. No matter how convincing, it is important that we not let her establish doubt and fear in us.”

Depression gave Logic a quizzical look. “Um, no offense, but that’s easier said than done.”

“And therein lies the issue. It is certainly more difficult to create a goal like this than it is to enact it. Hurt such as this runs deep. It is a challenge, indeed, to try and alter the damage caused.

“This is why I cannot be angry at either of you. I know the pain that you feel, the desperation and fear that is created and rooted deep. Neither one of you are evil. Neither one of you are terrible. You were scared and acted within the best interest of one another. You also were the ones to rescue the rest of us, and that is certainly appreciated.”

Tears began to flood Logic’s eyes again as she smiled gratefully. 

“The two of you saved me. You saved my family. Thank you. And please believe me when I say that I appreciate it. Anyone who can do that cannot be evil.”

Anxiety finally smiled and stood on trembling legs, making her way to Logic once she had set down her mug. She collapsed onto the intellectual Side’s lap with a sob and clutched her jacket.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you...” Anxiety’s cries and tears fell onto Logic’s shirtfront as she awkwardly maneuvered to embrace the other.

Depression tried to discretely wipe away her own tears, but found her own cheeks quickly covered in salt. Logic and her shared a glance over the still-sobbing Anxiety, an understood agreement exchanged between them.

We may not be perfect and we may not heal completely, but we’ll do our best. Day by day.

“No, thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While I experience intrusive thoughts, depression, anxiety, and PTSD, I am by no means an expert. As I said before, everyone experiences them differently. I used the following resources to help me better understand them (especially intrusive thoughts and PTSD):

https://adaa.org/learn-from-us/from-the-experts/blog-posts/consumer/unwanted-intrusive-thoughts

https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/posttraumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/symptoms

https://www.intrusivethoughts.org/blog/are-intrusive-thoughts-normal/

https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/ptsd/what-is-ptsd

https://www.ptsd.va.gov/understand/what/index.asp

If you yourself suffer from any of the above mental issues or a different one, I want to tell you that you are not alone. While some days are worse than others, things will get better. Maybe not tomorrow or the day after, but they certainly will with time. Help is out there and you can do it.

USA Suicide Prevention Hotline: [phone]

TTY - Hearing and Speech Impaired: 1-800-799-4889

USA Crisis Textline: 741741 (text HOME or START)

Canada Crisis Textline: 686868 (text HOME)

The Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Trevor Project Website: http://www.thetrevorproject.org/

IMAlive Online Crisis Chat: https://www.imalive.org/

Suicide Prevention Lifeline Online Chat: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/chat/

ULifeline (provides resources for college students): http://www.ulifeline.org

A list of resources (not just for suicide but for a variety of crises) can be found here: http://suicidehotlines.com/national.html

#logic #anxiety #depression #and that's how i'm ending it #i'll be writing more stories with these characters but this one is done #it only took me seven months fjkjaskfjas #my writing #junipersides #never alone

[wckdmazes]

I Survived - A Newt One-Shot

                                            I Survived.

Hey guys, just a quick Author’s Note to let you know that there are some trigger warnings in this fic. These triggers include: Accidental self-harm, depression, and a suicide attempt.

                 Like the other boys, I don’t remember anything of my life before The Glade. I’ve tried many times, mostly at night when the dark thoughts set in and kept me from sleep. I imagine a life without walls, without a lift that births a new boy every month. The Glade is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but despite its beauty, I still felt trapped. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

               My name is Newt. That’s not my birth name though, at least, I don’t think it is. I’m in a beautiful Glade surrounded by miles and miles of stone walls that twist into a new labyrinth every night. We, that is the other boys and I, have begun to call it The Maze and it’s my job as a Runner to run through the twists and turns every day and try to find a way out. I’ve been running The Maze, every day, all day for a few months now. At first, I went in with hope. Maybe we could find a way out and find our families, figure out how we got here, or just…anything. Anything but the monotony of life here.

               It’s nearly time for the doors to close like they do every night and I’ve just finished documenting today’s run. I set my notes aside for the other Runners and George, our leader, to look over later and headed towards the small eating area we’d built. I could smell the food the Frypan, our cook, was just finishing up.

               “That smells wonderful, Fry.” I noted, offering the other boy a warm smile as I took my portion. I sat down with my bowl and began to dig into the meaty stew. It tasted wonderful and stilled the ache of hunger in my belly, which I was mostly grateful for. I glanced up when my friend Alby sat down across from me with his own portion of stew.

               “How was The Maze?” Alby asked before shoveling a spoonful of stew into his mouth.

               “I found a new path, but it was a dead end. Looks like you had a rough day in the Gardens.” I said with a small chuckle as I pointed out the dirt smudged across Alby’s dark face. “You have dirt by your ears, mate.” Alby snorted softly and grinned at me.

               “Yeah, the trellis the Greenie built fell today. I was only just able to save the tomatoes. Most of the grapes were lost, but I have a few plants that I think I can save.” He replied. Alby was typically a Slicer, but right now the Garden’s needed the most help, so he split his days between the two jobs. “George told the Greenie he has to make the trellis work or he’ll be a Slopper.”

               I cast a glance down the table at the newest boy to The Glade. We call all the new boys Greenie until they either proved themselves or a new boy comes up. This particular Greenie had been here for about two weeks and wasn’t really great at any jobs except being a Builder. His name is Gally and he’s both the tallest and the most cross of all of us. I could see him fuming from where I sat, likely because of the fallen trellis. He was pouring over a sheet of paper and frowning, likely trying to figure out how to make the trellis not fall.

               “I’m sure he’ll get it sorted.” I said turning back to Alby and finishing my stew. The night progressed as it usually did, with the other boys joking and unwinding around the fire. I joined in for a little while, until I felt the sinking feeling I always got when the night began to settle down. I bid the other boys good night and headed into The Homestead, where we all slept. I crawled into my hammock and tried to will myself to have pleasant dreams.

               It was silent and dark when I woke up with silent tears streaking my cheeks and sweat soaking my clothes. For just a moment, I remembered something about my past. I remembered my sister.

               “Lizzy.” I breathed out into the still Homestead as new tears sprung to my eyes. The rest of my dream faded away, leaving me with a racing heart and an overwhelming sense of despair. I slipped from my bunk and the Homestead and out into the cool morning. The sun hadn’t even begun to think about rising, but the birds in the trees chirped happily about the coming dawn. I wiped my face and took a deep breath, trying to clear the despair from my soul to no avail.

               “You’re up early.” A voice chirped behind me. I turned to see Minho heading towards me with his usual chipper demeanor.

               “Couldn’t sleep.” I lied.

               “Again?” He asked sympathetically.

               “S’alright.” I replied with a shrug as we walked towards the Map Room to get our running gear.

               “You sure you can run today, Newt?” Minho asked, placing a hand on my shoulder and looking at me with concern.

It was common for me to go days without sleeping lately. I would try, of course, but it was like my mind just wouldn’t shut off. I kept having intrusive thoughts about how we wouldn’t ever leave this place and how I would die here and never find my real family, never find out who I really am. Those nights, I would spend my time in the Gardens with the plants until I had to go run The Maze. One or two days didn’t have a marked effect on my energy levels anymore, but more than that and I lost both speed and clarity. It had almost gotten me trapped in The Maze more than once and after the second time, George had pulled me aside and made me explain. I had tried my best to convey just how bad my thoughts were effecting my sleep and George had seemed to understand, if only a little. He’d made me promise to tell him if I was too tired to run and so far, I’d been a man of my word and only been made to stay back a few times to rest.

“It’s just one night. I’m fine. I swear.” I told Minho while giving him a look that I hoped read as confident.

“You better be, Shuckhead.” He sighed as he released my shoulder and pushed open the door to the Map Room.

We grabbed our gear and confirmed the routes each of us would be running today before jogging across The Glade and towards the doors that would soon open into The Maze. As we stood waiting on the doors, I took a moment to look back at The Glade as the sun just began to crest over the top of the massive walls that separated us from the labyrinth and the dangers that lurked beyond. This was my favorite time of day; the sunrise. The Glade would go from the midnight blue-black of darkness, to a faint grey-blue, and then, as the sun peeked over the walls, The Glade would be washed in pinks and yellows and reds. It would become alive with the birds and the other boys, who would be just waking up. This moment, each morning, was my one happy thing in an otherwise increasingly sad and grey world.

I turned my attention to Minho as the doors opened with a groan of metal and stone and we nodded to each other as we began to jog into The Maze.

“See ya later, Shank.” Minho said to me before we parted ways and began to run the stone paths of our prison.

 The combination of the harsh sun and the heat that the stone held made the day long and taxing. I ran the twists and turns, making notes on anything that had changed, though not much had. The lack of changes left plenty of time for my mind to wander as I ran. The intrusive thoughts were quick to make themselves known and with each step I took, I thought about how pointless this was.

I’m absolutely mad to think we were ever going to get out of here.

I’m never going to be free.

I’ll never see my family again.

I’ll never see Little Lizzy.

No one even cares that I’m here.

They haven’t even come looking for me.

They’ve forgotten me.

They didn’t care about me.

I must not have been good enough.

Running this maze is pointless.

I’m going to die in this maze.

No one would even care if I…

I shook my head roughly and stopped running. I had to stop thinking like this. I closed my eyes and took a few steadying breaths before checking my watch and realizing that I needed to head back. I decided to count my steps to keep my mind distracted as I turned and began the trek back to The Glade. I lost count four times before giving up as I ran into The Glade just behind Minho.

“Hey, you made it.” He greeted me as I jogged up beside him and we headed towards the Map Room to compare notes and work out routes for tomorrow. I nodded and gave him a small smile, but said nothing.

“You’re a man of many words, Newt.” Minho chided with a grin.

“Sorry, mate. It’s just been a long boring day and I’m a bit tired.” I replied.

We finished up in the Map Room just as Frypan called out that dinner was done. Minho began to jog over and looked over his shoulder at me as I began to head towards the Gardens.

“You coming, Newt?” He asked.

“I’ll catch up. I told Alby I’d look at the damaged plants and see if anything can be done.” I lied for a second time today.

“Well hurry up or you’ll get the gruel.” He shouted as he jogged away.

I wasn’t planning on getting gruel or food of any kind at the moment. Even after running all day, I just simply wasn’t hungry. I hadn’t even eaten my lunch rations, honestly. As I neared the fallen trellis in the Gardens, I observed the new Greenie picking through the smashed plants for all the damaged grapes.

“Fry’s done cooking, Greenie. You can go get some food.” I spoke, which seemed to startle him.

“Oh. Thanks.” He said, looking up at me from the dirt. “I was only taking the smashed ones. I want to try making something to drink other than water. I didn’t think anyone would mind.”

“Better ask George or Nick first, really. Anyway, you should probably figure out how to make this trellis stronger and not be worried about a drink.” I replied. He frowned and his already intense eyebrows furrowed before he stood and left without a word.

I sighed and knelt down in the dirt to try and salvage any plants Alby had possibly missed. There were two that I thought could be saved and I replanted them with the other salvaged plants, hoping they would survive.

Shuck knows something in this place has to survive.

I sure won’t.

I felt the familiar anchor in my heart as my thoughts turned darker with the night. I knew this would be the beginning of another cycle of sleepless nights. Another fight with the darkness inside me that threatened to consume my soul. A darkness that ate every happy thought and feeling and klunked out despair and emptiness in its wake.

I’ll never go beyond these walls.

There’s no point in any of this.

There is no happiness here for me.

I have nothing.

I AM nothing.

I should just…

My mind was brought back to the present as a searing pain emanated from the back of my hand. I looked down and saw a clean slash for a brief moment before it filled with dark blood. My blood. I had slipped and cut my hand open with the trowel I had been using to replant the grapes. I sat back on my heels and stared in morbid fascination as the blood began to well up and spill over the edge of the laceration and run scarlet down my hand until it dripped off my pinky and disappeared into the dirt. It was another longer moment of me staring at my hand before I realized I needed to bandage it. I quickly moved to the water trough and scooped some up in a cup before pouring it over the wound and finally bandaging it with a scrap of cloth I usually kept tied around my wrist. The pain from my hand blurred the thoughts in my head and I realized that it was the first time in a while I’d felt something other than just perpetual numbness. I stared at my now bandaged hand as tears pricked my eyes and the anchor in my heart sunk lower into the abyss.

I can’t feel anything but pain.

No. ALL I feel is pain.

I’m so tired of fighting.

What am I even fighting for? Some bloody grapes?

There’s no shucking point to any of this.

I should just…

I should just…

With great difficulty, I tore my eyes away from my injury and spent the rest of the night digging fervently in the garden to keep myself from finishing that nagging thought. By the time I had to get ready to run The Maze, I was in worse shape than ever before. Everything around me seemed darker and blander despite the night fading and the morning beginning to come to The Glade. I stood wordlessly and numb beside Minho at The Doors and waited for them to open. I turned towards the sunrise, as I did every day, but today it was different. The light spilled over the top of the wall and bled across The Glade, but it seemed duller than usual. Suddenly not even the happiest moment in my life could reach my heart to warm it. I stared as the doors opened behind me and realized that I felt nothing. I registered Minho calling me and turned back towards The Maze with a faux smile on my face, assuring him I was fine before we parted ways. But I wasn’t fine. I was numb. I was empty. I was drowning and everyone around me just stood and watched, ignoring my pleas for help.

No one cares about me.

Why should they?

I’m not worth caring about.

I’m not worth anything.

I’m just taking up space and resources.

I’m not even a good Runner.

I don’t do anything well.

I should just….

“No!” I shouted out loud at my thoughts. “I will not finish that thought. It’s just another bad cycle. I can make it through this.” I spent the day alternating between fighting with my thoughts and marking some new routes I found. But slowly, I was losing the will to fight. Eventually, well before it was time to turn back, I just stopped running and slumped to the ground. A strangled sob tore from my throat and all the pain and emptiness I fought against rushed in and filled me like a cup in an ocean. It was overwhelming and I stayed there on the ground, sobs shaking my whole body, until the sun was high overhead. Habit told me it was time to turn back, but I didn’t care.

There’s no point in going back.

They’re better off without me.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I was standing up and fumbling for a foothold in the walls. I found one and began to climb higher and higher until I found a small landing, just big enough for me to stand on. I stared down the wall from my perch and the ground disappeared in a blur as more tears flooded my eyes.

No one cares.

I’m nothing.

I’ll never be free.

I should just…

I should just…

I should just…

“Jump.” I whispered to myself before I stepped off the ledge and plummeted down to the stone below. The strangest thing happened as soon as I stepped off the ledge. Suddenly, I thought of Alby and how devastated he would be at my death. I thought of Lizzy and my parents, whoever they were, and how they might be at least a little torn up that I died. I thought about Minho and how I’d never hear another stupid joke or make him feel better when he got sad at night, I thought of The Glade and how the sun would crest over the walls every morning and how it was simply marvelous to behold. It sounds foolish, but I thought of those bloody grapes and how I would never get to see if the plants were strong enough to survive.

I wasn’t strong enough to survive.

All at once there was a loud thud, accompanied by snapping and blinding pain as I collided with the solid stone floor of the Maze. Then there was nothing.

 I could hear a distant shout and footsteps approach.

This is it.

The footsteps got closer and were accompanied by someone frantically speaking.

I’m dead.

Whoever was speaking knelt beside my head, but I still couldn’t make out their words.

Am I dead?

The person moved towards my legs and jerked up my pant leg.

Oh God, I’m not dead!

My eyes shot open and a scream tore from my chest as my leg exploded in pain anew. Suddenly every sense I had was hyper aware and I could make sense of what was being said.

“Newt, you shuckin’ shank!” Minho shouted at me when I came to.

“Don’t touch it!” I shouted back, pain lacing my words. “Just…don’t touch it.”

“What the hell happened?!” Minho demanded as he moved back towards my face and eased me up to sitting. His eyes scanned my tear stained face, likely noting my red puffy eyes, before looking up the wall until he finally spotted the ledge. His face fell as he pieced it all together and turned his gaze back to me.

“I’m sorry.” I croaked out, feeling guilty for what I’d done.

“Not a shucking chance, Newt.” Minho said before he heaved me up and threw my arm over his shoulder, supporting most of my weight.

“Minho, just leave me.” I groaned. “You’re not fast enough to make it back.”

“No, you’re not fast enough to make it back. I have plenty of time to get both of us back.” He argued before beginning to sprint back towards the exit.

“Minho, I’m sorry.” I wheezed, trying to stay awake through the pain and keep up with my less injured leg. “I’m so sorry, Min. I don’t want to die.”

“I know, man. I know. Just stay awake, we’re almost there.” He said. I could hear the emotion and the worry in his voice. “Just stay awake, Newt.”

I could hear the clamor of the other boys as they saw us making our way towards them. We crossed the threshold just as my leg finally gave out and I sagged heavy against Minho, causing him to stumble. As we fell to the dirt, I was again blinded by the intense pain shooting through my leg, but I managed to hang onto Minho’s shirt long enough to groan one final thing in his ear.

“Please,” I begged through the pain. “Please don’t tell them.”

               “I won’t tell. I promise.” Minho assured me quietly before turning towards Alby, who was demanding answers. I didn’t hear anything else as I finally slipped into a dreamless sleep.

                 It was months later when I could finally leave the Med-Jack hut with the help of a sturdy walking stick that Alby found and Gally carved to smoothness, and a brace that Clint fashioned out of materials that got sent up in the lift. I blinked against the bright light until my eyes adjusted and took a deep breath of fresh air. Everything looked brighter and smelled fresher than I could ever recall it being. I hobbled slowly towards the Gardens to see if I could help at all, but the others had just knocked off for lunch when I arrived. Alby made his way over from the Slicer’s and smiled gently as he closed the distance between us.

               “Newt.” He said as he wrapped me in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re out and about. I was worried about you.” He stepped back and looked at me, his eyes searching my face for confirmation of the questions he had. He seemed to confirm his suspicions with a small nod before breaking into his warm and friendly smile again.

               “Come on, I have something to show you.” Alby said before leading me back towards the now stable trellis. Over the months of my recovery, Gally had managed to build a trellis and Alby directed my gaze to two of the plants growing strong and healthy on the wood. I looked from the plants to Alby and back in disbelief for a moment.

               “Are these-?”

               “The grape plants you saved before your accident? Yes. They survived.”

                 They survived.

               I survived.

               A genuine laugh bubbled up from my chest and out of my mouth as I reached my hand out and gently ran my fingers over the grape leaves.

               “Bloody hell.” I breathed in amazement. “Bloody shucking hell.”

#TW: Self Harm #TW: Depression #TW: Suicide Attempt #Newt #The Maze Runner #TMR #Fanfic #WCKDWrites

[hello-i-write-stuff-blog]

Life of a Galactic Marine | Chapter 1 | FOB

At the front of the group that arrived to greet us was the highest ranking marine stationed on the planet, Commander Daniel May Irvine. Standing tall at nearly six and a half feet he was on the lean side, but I could feel the strong grip of a man who worked out regularly when he shook my hand and introduced himself as he moved down the line, greeting the other new arrivals as he went. He told us everyone to follow him to the forward operating base and get to know the rest of marines with him on the way.

 My first instinct was to stick to the middle of the group in case of an ambush, but I thought better of it as I saw some of the weaponry on the backs of some of the others and stuck to the back. As we heard the shuttle take off and started to head into the dense jungle I was approached by one of the marines who I failed to notice before. He introduced himself as Barry but said everyone called him “Blackout” after his love of drinking himself into a stupor. He was about my height at 6’2 with short dirty blond hair and grey-blue eyes. As we walked he told me how rank wasn’t really a big deal here. When you went out on a mission you would get assigned a leader who was generally the most experienced and if you listened to them you should be fine. He pointed out the other marines identifying them as Hal, Creek, Cab, Jin, Seer and Dive who seemed to be the only females, and of course our commander or as Blackout called him “Skydive”. I asked him how he earned that name and he laughed as he told me. Apparently when he first got stationed to this planet, he accidentally triggered the breach alarm on the transport ship and ended up parachuting out in the panic and never lived it down.

 As we got deeper into the jungle I started hearing a low humming growing steadily louder. As it started getting hard to ignore I began to fidget with my pistol harness. We were all given standard issue 12 round energy pistols after completing our training. The harness was a small leather pouch with two magnetic sections, one to fasten it to our combat belt, the other to keep the pistol from falling out. Blackout noticed me messing around and asked why I didn’t have any other weapons with me. I shrugged and replied that I didn’t see doing the extra certifications as worth it. He tilted his head and looked at me thoughtfully, as he said that we would have to get me some new gear once we got to the FOB.

 As the humming started to grow intrusively loud an 8 foot tall metal fence topped with barbed wire started to show through the trees. As we got to the fence Hal stepped up and showed a small light blue tablet to a black rectangle where a doorknob would be and as I watched the door swung inwards, and we walked through. The second I stepped through the doorway the humming stopped and everyone seemed to exhale. I made a mental note to ask what that noise was later, but now I was looking at the FOB. It was a large building that was probably a mall or some other kind of shopping center before whatever happened to it. It was covered in spotlights, powered off now but would likely be turned on at night time. I saw the telltale red flash of a security camera to the upper right of the main entrance and waived. As we walked inside I was surprised with the improvements made. The FOB consisted of 2 stories of what used to be shops, with a stone statue of a man holding a golden flag in the center of a mass of sandbags, tables, and computers.

 From amidst the mass of wires and monitors a woman emerged. She was about my height give or take a few inches with long green hair and matching eyes she looked to be in her mid-twenties matching most of us. She smiled and introduced herself as Blitz, the FOB’s main tech person. The commander introduced the rest of us by our names and told her and Cab to get us new arrivals geared up. She motioned for us to follow her and Cab to what looked like a derelict toy shop on the other side of the FOB. As we got closer I saw that instead of children’s toys and games it was stocked to the brim with guns, grenades, armor, and all sorts of other goodies. It was protected by a heavy metal grate on the windows and the door was reinforced but once we arrived Blitz swiped a blue tablet looking device and the door swung open. Cab, who must have been Blitz’s brother as he looked just like her but a thirty something dude with brown hair told us to help ourselves to the gear, but try not to overdo it.

 While my fellow arrivals instantly gravitated to the shiniest, biggest, and newest energy weapons I took my time looking over a particularly dusty pile of revolvers, shotguns, and armor. I picked out an energy revolver (AN | Energy weapons function like normal guns but do not require reloading and recharge ammunition rapidly when not being fired. They are primarily used for sport as most modern armor absorbs them.) and a sleek, long barreled 8 round semi-automatic shotgun and grabbed some armor penetrating slugs. While I was trying to load the shotgun Cab walked over and handed me a medium sized orange box covered in tiny warning labels and told me to clip it to my belt. I did as he requested and asked him what it was. He told me that it was an ammunition fabricator that could create incendiary, buckshot, and AP ammo for my shotgun. I thanked him and grabbed some green camouflage armor from a nearby shelf. I looked at myself in a nearby mirror and not to brag but I looked like a badass, in my camo armor sporting a huge shotgun with my revolver on my belt. As I was heading back to the center of the FOB with the other marines an earsplitting scream split the air.

Well that’s the first chapter done, hopefully not to many spelling mistakes :) I have the next chapter started but I would love some feedback on the lengths of the chapters, ie longer shorter etc. If you have any ideas for some of the undetailed marines (as not all of them are fully designed) I would be happy to add your suggestion.