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#although they never told me my therapist's name
comiicii · 6 months
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Backdrop: You and Bucky live in the same apartment complex but haven't spoken more than a few words. One night, Bucky decides to change that. Pairing: James 'Bucky' Barnes x fem!reader. Warnings: mentions of bucky’s ptsd and my subpar writing. A's notes: this is just based on the scene pictured above from the first episode of fatws. excuse spelling and any other mistakes throughout this one-shot. this has been sitting in my drafts for ages. Word count: 2.7k
James kept to himself whenever he came into the bar you worked at. The two of you always exchanged kind glances at each other. They were no different than the ones you shared in the hallway of the apartment building you both lived in. He was a man of few words and after he came in a few times, you knew his drink order. He had a select variety which would indicate the type of day he's had or his mood. You never asked about his life and you two only ever said a few sentences to each other. He wanted to talk to you, he truly did but his words always got stuck in his throat. You were so pretty and innocent; he didn't want to taint that with his overly-complicated existence.
"James, is there anyone you've talked to other than me this week?" his therapist asks him, readying the pad and pen if he lied to her face again. There was a pause. He thought back to you and all the mental images he kept of you the past seven days. Last night, he nursed some cheap beer and watched you work; talking to some of the regulars at the bar, asking about the home life of some you had grown close to, smiling and laughing at whatever funny joke was told to you. He was completely enamored with you but he was too chicken to say anything more than his drink order and 'thank you'.
"James? I asked you a question. Do you talk to anyone once you step foot outside my office?" She pressed.
"Yes," he quietly answered. "there's a woman…she works at a bar near my apartment." the corners of his lips tugging ever so slightly upwards. The look of shock on her face pulling them higher. "She lives a couple doors down from me." James quickly added before she wrote in her notepad.
"I'm not lying." he spoke through gritted teeth.
"I know, I'm just making a note of it for next time." she deadpanned, internally relishing that he was making some progress with another human being.
"Do you two talk when you're at the bar?"
"She's working so I don't say much." he answers with a sigh.
"And when you see her at the apartment? Do you say anything at all?" she pressed on him again.
"We say hi or nod at each other." he stoically answers causing her to set aside her pad and lean forward in her seat.
"James, you need to nurture friendships. I'm not forcing you to date this woman but make an effort in talking with her. I think it would be good for you," her words were sincere. "Do you even know her name?"
"Y/N." there was that smile again.
He came right on time as always. Your heart always beat a little faster when you saw him. There was something about him that made you feel safe even though you didn't speak. You could tell he was a private man. You enjoyed your small interactions with him. Although brief, you could tell he was a good man. He'd probably been through a lot and suffered a lot of loss from what you figured. He looked to be in a good mood so you brought him his usual domestic beer with a smile. He nodded with a smile in return and proceeded to take a swig.
Your shift went by quick. Before you knew it, midnight had come. It had been a quiet but decent shift. You organized your tips to stuff into your front pocket.
"Mind if I walk you home?" he asked from his stool, finishing off his seventh bottle. You nearly jumped two feet at hearing his voice. He had practiced those six words in his head for the last two hours, hoping his voice wouldn't come off shaky.
Once you slowed your heart rate, your lips tugged into a smile and gave a small nod to him. The small response was enough to make his heart leap. He stood and walked to the door, holding it open for you to exit first.
It was a pleasant surprise for both of you to be in this setting; walking down the bustling street to your apartment complex. He mainly kept his hands in his pocket aside from the brief moment where he tugged at your arm to prevent you from clashing with a man who was looking down at his phone and clearly not paying attention to his surroundings. As quickly as it happened, his hand was back in his pocket. The walk was silent but comfortable. You had questions and obviously wanted to know more about him but you didn’t want to push him to talk if he wasn’t ready to open up. A part of you knew that he wasn’t one to be forthcoming with information he wasn’t comfortable sharing.
Before you knew it, you two were in the building and walking down the hallway to your respective doors. You turned around to thank him but at the last second, you grew bold and so you got on your toes to plant a soft peck on his cheek. It caught both of you off guard and you wanted to run away but you stayed in your spot; waiting for some reaction from him. The blood began rushing to his face. It had been decades since James had any physical contact with a woman.
“Goodnight, James and thank you for walking me home.” you softly spoke but before you could turn away to head to your door, his hand took hold of yours.
“You can call me Bucky,” he spoke, looking down at the floor before making eye contact with you, a small smile piercing through his usual stoic expression.
You gave his hand a light squeeze and tried to contain the goofy smile attempting to shine through, nodding and walking backwards to your door as you spun your keys on your ring finger.
“Shall we do this again tomorrow night, Bucky?”  you smirked as you reached your door. His smile grew and he nodded.
With that, something new and wonderful blossomed.
As weeks passed, the two of you continued this little routine of him walking you home from work. He started talking with you more, especially when he noticed a particular man making you uncomfortable. He’d find some way to take your mind off it and keep you occupied or shoot the man a death glare that you prayed you’d never be on the receiving end of. You learned that he was a little lonely since coming back from the Snap. He’d recently lost his childhood best friend and from what you deciphered from your conversations, his family had been long gone. It hurt you to hear him speak of those he lost. You didn’t press and always listened. He liked that you didn’t bother him for details or press him to tell you more. He enjoyed that you gave him the time and space to tell you things about himself when he was ready.
When walking back to the apartment, you would hold his arm and he didn’t seem to mind. He liked having you close even if he didn’t verbally communicate that to you. He grew more bold as time passed. He’d attempt flirting with you such as complimenting your smile or using a corny pick up line that he’d hope you’d like. After a few weeks, he would walk you to your door and hug you goodnight. After a month, he started planting small kisses on your head when giving you those hugs. That’s when you learned he was a military man. He wore his dog tags under his shirt. Given the height difference, you could feel them against your cheek underneath the fabric. You didn’t ask about his time in the military as you figured that was a conversation for down the road. You often kissed him on the cheek or gave his hands a squeeze as a thank you. You were going to sleep happy and hopeful that one day you two could go on an actual date and see each other in a different setting.
You truly got to know Bucky one particular night. Being that you worked at a bar, there was a television for background noise and to give some of the guys something to stare at when there was a game or big event happening. It was on the night that the government had announced it’s new Captain America. It was the main topic of most conversations at the bar that night. To you, it didn’t feel right. You had heard about Falcon having the shield passed down to him personally by Steve Rogers himself but donating it to the Captain America exhibit about a month ago. When you watched the announcement, your heart fell into your stomach. It didn’t sit right in your gut and frankly, it angered a part of you. You respected the legacy the man left behind. If the Captain chose to pass it down to the Falcon, shouldn’t he be the one donning the shield? With that announcement being the big news of the day, it altered the energy of your shift.
Bucky came in at his usual time. You could tell he had seen the news and that he was tremendously bothered by it. In the time you got to spend with Bucky, you knew when he was faking his smile at you. His smiles were genuine when they reached his eyes and as corny as it sounds, they would somewhat twinkle when he was happy. In his greeting to you, you saw none of that. You didn’t press and proceeded to change the channel to a soccer game to shift the mood and conversations of the bar. Bucky didn’t say much to you during your shift but you could tell when his eyes were on you. He had a habit of using you as his focal point as a way to ground him when he was at the bar on nights when it would get rowdy or if he picked up on a certain conversation that bothered him. It was a way for him to drown all of it out. You didn’t interact as even you could feel from across the bar that he wasn’t in the jaunty, talking mood.
Your shift went by as usual and you were cleaning up your station and gathering your tips for the night when one of the regulars started making small talk with you. They usually did when you were closing out your shift. They asked you about the news of the Captain America and what your honest opinion was of it.
“Should’ve stayed in the museum or stayed with the Falcon.” you casually spoke as you counted the bills in your hand. “I don’t have a good feeling about this new Cap, if I’m being honest. He hasn’t saved the world, never fought with the Avengers and I don’t remember Captain America having a gun so safe to say I won’t be buying his lunchbox.” emitting a dry chuckle with a shrug, giving them a pat goodbye as you made your way to Bucky.
Your walk home was mostly silent. He asked you about your day and that was the extent of your conversation with him. You held on to his arm as usual all the way to your apartment door.
“Did you mean what you said at the bar about…” he trailed off as his eyes met yours. He looked frustrated. He must’ve taken the news pretty hard you figured and only nodded to support your statements at the bar.
He suddenly pulled you into him and held you close. You could feel him slightly trembling. It worried you so you wrapped your arms around him and stayed in that position for what seemed like minutes. He kissed your head as always and when he finally pulled away, you could see pure sadness in his eyes.
“Bucky…talk to me” you softly pleaded. It was the first time you asked him to open up on your terms, not his. You were worried and concerned. Everything that night told you something was off about the man before you. He wasn’t the Bucky you had come to adore and possibly love. He stayed silent for a moment like he was thinking over how to respond to you.
“Tomorrow morning, breakfast? You’ve had a busy night and we can talk in the daylight for once.” he flashed you sheepish smile. You eyed him for a few seconds and understood that it was his way of saying ‘I’ll open up to you tomorrow’.
“Sounds good to me, Bucky. Plus, I can finally see your face under natural sunlight instead of fluorescent street lights.” You nodded with a soft chuckle, easing his anxiety that you wouldn’t take his offer. You grabbed hold of his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “See you here at 9 tomorrow.” you grabbed your keys and went into your apartment with a sigh; hopeful that some sleep was all he needed to ease his mind before your morning date.
You were peacefully sleeping until noise from Bucky’s apartment pierced your walls. It was four in the morning. You thought nothing of it until the noise continued and grew louder. You quickly put on a hoodie, grabbed your pocket knife and ran over next door. You knocked on his door loudly, asking if everything was alright. The yells didn’t stop and when your hand grabbed the knob to jiggle it to make some noise, you realized it was unlocked. You hesitated for a split second before barging in.
Upon entering, you see Bucky on the ground over a blanket in front of his television. You looked around for any possible intruders before rushing to him. You froze at the sight of his left arm. You didn’t have much time to process the new revelation as Bucky was sweating profusely and clearly having a nightmare. Your instinct was to wake him but a part of you told you not to. You had heard somewhere from a customer who had a friend with PTSD tell you vehemently to never wake someone during an episode. You pulled away and shakily took a seat in the loveseat next to him, putting the pillow between him and the chair so he wouldn’t hurt himself if he moved around. You observed the makeshift bed made up of just a couple of blankets and a pillow on the floor. It pained you realizing that you really didn’t know Bucky. You calmed yourself down and adjusted yourself on the loveseat, hoping the episode would pass.
A few minutes went by and you realized he wasn’t yelling anymore. You relaxed a bit and drifted off to a slumber, not registering that you were still in his apartment. About twenty minutes later, Bucky shot up, panting and covered in a thick layer of sweat. His heavy breathing woke you and you quickly moved to the floor to assess him, your face coming into view being a surprise to him.
“How…how you’d get in here, Y/N?” you tried not to stare too much at his arm.
“Y-your door was unlocked when I came t-to check on you,” you stumbled over your words, “I heard you yelling…was worried there was an intruder o-or something.” you kept your eyes on his and hoped he wouldn’t notice you stuttering so much due to shock and worry.
He rubbed his vibranium hand over his face. When his eyes met your again, he saw that you were staring at his arm. You looked scared and when you noticed him looking at you, in a blink you were back to worrying about him.
“Are you okay?” you asked with so much worry in your tone it made Bucky worry about you more.
“Y/N…you-”
“Did someone do this to you?” you cut him off as your hand reached toward his arm. It was cold unlike the rest of his body that was covered in sweat.
His biggest fear was having you reject him because of his past and physicality but the more he stared at you, the more he realized that you weren’t scared of him, you were scared for him. Bucky never wanted you to find out this way but he knew he had to come clean to you about himself sooner or later. He was just hoping it would be later rather than sooner.
“I think now would be a good time for a coffee…”
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xoxoladyaz · 10 months
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It Hits Different This Time, Part 3
Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie x Steve Harrington
TW: Mentions of alcohol, drug abuse
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five
Brief updates from Eddie, a phone call with Jeff, and finally some news about Gareth
Steve woke up with a stuffy head the next morning; he’d spent a solid hour crying with Robin on the couch after he got off the phone with Eddie, going over everything Eddie had said again and again in excruciating detail. They weren’t sad tears, they were tears of relief, but it still did quite a number on his sinuses.
Thankfully, when he talked with Eddie later that evening, Eddie hadn't let his own negative emotions keep him down.“Talking with Wayne has been tough,” he’d said with a wry laugh. “I’d really been hoping I would never have to have this conversation with him, but hey, we had it, and now things can get better.” (Which reminded Steve that he needed to call Wayne and see how he was doing in all of this.) 
Aside from that, though, Eddie seemed to be in high spirits. He told Steve all about the detox process (“Terrible, I’d rather go skinny-dipping with Jason Carver than go through that again”) and about his conversations with his therapist (“Ugh, I feel like my heart is throwing up, but Doc said that was a good thing and that we’re making progress, so, yay?”) and all about his sobriety sponsor (a seventy-five-year-old Italian woman named Francesca that he called “Frankie, she’s fucking hilarious, I kind of want to set her up with Wayne.”) Steve just couldn’t get over how good it was to hear Eddie like this: how awake and alert he sounded, how clear his voice was, how loud he laughed. It made the last ten months even more glaring in how off Eddie had been before, how badly fucked up he had been on whatever cocktail of drugs he'd been taking.
They’d gotten a bit more time to talk this evening, which was wonderful, but Steve was relieved that they ended their call as early as they did because he had a few calls of his own to make, now that things were settling down somewhat.
“Hey Jeff.”
“Steve!” Jeff’s voice rang loud and clear over the line. “Shit, man, it’s good to hear from you. How are you doing?”
“Good, good. I just got off the phone with Eddie and I just wanted to say thank you, man. I can’t – I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am that you were there for him when I wasn’t.”
“Shit, Steve,” Jeff replied reassuringly. “Eddie’s my brother. He might be kind of an asshole, or, actually, he might be a lot of an asshole - ” (Steve snorted through his nose) “ – but I’d do anything for him. I was happy to be there. And I know that if I was the one getting into that deep shit, he’d have done the same for me.”
“Still, it’s hard, man. I mean, I wasn’t even there and - ” Fuck, he would love to stop getting choked up all the time. “ – and it’s been hard for me. I can’t even imagine what it was like for you.”
Jeff’s sigh was long and deep. “Well, I can’t say it was a fun time, because it wasn’t. It actually really fucking sucked, watching them just fall apart all the time because they were too fucking high. I’m just really glad I didn’t relapse myself.”
“It’s amazing that you didn’t, man.”
“Yeah, well,” he could hear the smile in Jeff’s voice, “I had an angel with me. Speaking of, Chrissy says hi.”
“Hi Steve!” Steve can hear the lilting voice of Jeff’s fiancée in the background.
“Tell her ‘hi’ back for me,” Steve smiled, although on the inside he was reeling. Why wasn’t I enough for him to stay sober?
“I will,” Jeff said back. “And listen, before you start spiraling or anything, Eddie’s drug use has nothing to do with you, man. The only reason I’ve stayed sober the last two years is because I got to a point where I wanted to be. I mean, I was into some rough shit when I met Chris, and it took me about a year and half before I decided it was time to get sober. And yeah, Chrissy was a part of that, just like you’re a part of it for Eddie, but the difference now is that Eddie wants to make this change and get the help to do it. He just got there on his own time. If there’s one thing you can’t do, it’s rush Eddie Munson.”
“Tell me about it,” Steve chuckled, and with his laugh felt the tension in his chest dissipate. “I’ve started telling him our reservations are half-an-hour earlier than they actually are just so we can leave on time. Which reminds me, he told me to treat you and Chrissy to dinner on the Amex.”
“The Amex?” Jeff whistled. “Fancy, fancy. We’ll be back in town next week, maybe you and Robin can meet us somewhere?”
“That would be great. Are you still out in Cali?”
“Yeah,” Jeff sighed, and this time his sigh was sadder. “We’ve been staying near Gareth’s facility, trying to convince him to stay.”
“Shit, man, I was going to ask what happened with him.”
“Gareth,” Jeff sighed again, “he just started the party scene later than the rest of us. It’s still new and exciting to him and he doesn’t think that all the shit he’s doing is a problem. And I mean, he hadn’t really gone that hard until that last weekend right before we came back, but I think he’s still in the denial stage with how bad it’s gotten. Chrissy is getting through to him though, I think. He’s agreed to at least stay for the four-week program.”
“Have you asked Wayne to talk to him? That might help.”
“Shit, I should,” Jeff hummed. “Wayne knows that he’s checked in, but Gareth hasn’t had phone calls until yesterday. I’ll get Wayne the number, see if he can’t help Gareth out.”
“Robin and I would be more than happy to talk to him, too. He’s family, you know? I’d hate to see him get hurt or worse.”
“I’ll let him know that he can give you two a call,” Jeff replied warmly. “That’ll mean a lot to him, I think. I’m going to try to get permission for Eddie to call him, too, I’m just not sure if there’s extra precautions they want people to take when they’re in these programs. At the very least, if Gareth sees Eddie get sober and stay sober, it might inspire him to do the same. You know how much he looks up to him.”
“Yeah, I do,” Steve replied, and he was about to say more when his phone started vibrating.
Incoming Call: Wayne Munson
“Wayne’s calling, I’m going to check in with him. Thanks again for everything, Jeff, and let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Absolutely. Talk to you soon, man.”
Steve pressed the End Call, Start New Call button and brought his phone back up to his ear. “Hey Wayne.”
“Hello son. Glad I caught you.”
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kiyoomology · 2 years
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glimpse of us ☆ ben hargreeves
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genre: angst, no comfort no fluff warnings: HEAVY discussions of death and grief, also reader is at a therapist for 90% of this summary: you talk to someone about how to stop grieving ben. notes: i heard the new joji song and it spurred me to write this i apologize in advance
“have you seen someone for these problems before?”
“no.”
the woman in front of you continued typing on her laptop, muttering something you couldn’t make out.
“how old were you when this happened?”
“sixteen.”
“and you never saw someone until now?”
“no.”
you felt like the conversation was going nowhere, the clock ticking on the wall and the doctor’s loud typing irritating you beyond belief.
“tell me about it.”
you were somewhat startled by the sudden question. how could you begin to explain the years of anguish and grief that had built in your heart?
“like…how it happened? or how he died, or-“
“just anything. all of it.”
you didn’t know how to put it into words. you weren’t sure you could remember it at all.
“it’s gotten foggier as i’ve gotten older. but i remember his sister calling me, bawling her eyes out.” you started, a familiar lump forming in your throat as you recounted the worst night of your life. “she…she told he died while trying to help someone.”
“i didn’t get to go to the funeral. his dad wouldn’t let me.” 
a noise of surprise came from her throat at that statement, but she made no move to add anything.
“they- his sister, and his brothers, they snuck me to his grave, which was on their property. they had a…statue, and a grave, with his name and picture on it.” your voice broke as the memory of seeing ben’s memorial burned in your mind, and you felt a tear slide down your cheek.
“i didn’t do anything. i don’t think i cried. i just stared.” 
you stared at the woman expectantly, ignoring the tears that were pouring down your cheeks.
“do you still talk to his sister and brothers?”
“no. they have enough issues, they don’t need me piling my things on top of them.”
she began typing at your words, and you internally cringed at how stupid the words sounded.
“if you were close, you wouldn’t be a burden.”
“okay.”
silence blanketed the room as you tried to muffle the sniffles that were slipping from your mouth.
“do you still think about him?”
of course you thought about him.
you thought about him in the morning, and at night. when you had a particularly sweet glass of lemonade. when you laughed so hard your sides hurt. when the sunset was so mesmerizing it took your breath away. when you had moments of silence where you could take in life.
you thought of him every time.
“yeah. all the time.”
“you’ve never had the time to grieve for him, that’s for sure. have you thought about reaching out to his siblings again?”
yes you had. the problem was, you had no idea where to start. allison was a famous actress, who probably didn’t remember you. viktor had written his book and disappeared. and as for klaus, luther, and diego, you had no idea where to start.
“it…would be extremely hard to contact them. i think it’d be easier if i stayed away from them.”
“but you could see his memorial again if you reconciled with them, yes?”
a noise of frustration almost slipped from your lips, but you pushed it down.
“yeah. i guess so.”
“it’s just something to consider.” she said softly, and you nodded curtly, clenching your fists at your side discreetly.
“as for the pain that you’re carrying currently.”
you looked up at the woman, hoping that there would be some magic cure to forget about ben.
“you never got to say goodbye to him. you didn’t get to go to his funeral. you never got closure. this is something that’s been weighing heavily on you for about fourteen years, and that pain won’t be easy to undo.”
“so it’s pointless?”
“not at all. i said it wouldn’t be easy, not that it would be impossible.”
“that’s a relief.”
the session wrapped up quickly after that, and you made your way home posthaste.
although, it became apparent that your brain had other plans, as you ended up outside of the umbrella academy.
it was just how you remembered it. tall, looking over the street with a sense of eeriness and despair. 
so many wretched things had happened there that you couldn’t ever look at it in a normal light again.
to your shock, the door of the academy opened, and your eyes widened as allison exited.
“allison?”
she looked up, recognition crossing her features as her jaw dropped.
“hi honey, it’s been so long! how are you?” she exclaimed, descending the stairs and opening the large metal gate to meet you.
“i’m good,” you lied. “how are you?“
it suddenly crossed your mind that reginald had died yesterday, and you felt heat rise to your face at the comment.
“i’m sorry, that was rude. is everyone handling it okay?”
“as best as we can, yes.”
you nodded, both of you sharing a small smile before an inkling of an idea presented itself.
“i’m sure you don’t use your powers much, and if you say no, i’ll understand. but can i ask you to do something for me?”
she furrowed her brows, letting out a small chuckle.
“i’ll tell ya what- you were my favorite honorary sibling. so i’ll do whatever i can, within reason.”
she was smiling, but tears had begun to pool in your eyes once again.
“can you make me forget about ben?”
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vahntoki · 12 days
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TW SA!
QUICK MENTION:
(hi! so my friend was getting harassed due to sharing their story, not cool. me and @bl4ckasjet are KEEPING ours up. So far ȋ̈ haven't gotten harassed but if ȋ̈ do ȋ̈ don't give two fucking fucks! Ȋ̈ have already been through shit, try me bitch [hehe brandon rogers quote]. Ȋ̈ am hoping we can start some sort of chain? Obviously optional of you want to share your story or not! But ȋ̈ was thinking it would be extremely empowering and a̸ way to take back our power EVEN MORE)!
this message was for my friend before the harassment started:
I am so incredibly proud of you [friends name]. Ȋ̈ really mean it!!! This kind of stuff is extremely hard to share. For me it has taken me about over 5 years?? to be able to SOMEWHAT talk about what happened to me (for reference it happened when ȋ̈ was abt 5). Being able to talk about your abuse it extremely empowering and basically like a huge FUCK YOU to ur abuser!!! Those people who said what they said are wrong. If it happened to them they would've not said what they said to you. Don't be sorry, it's your life and your story to tell. You should be PROUD of yourself. If you or ANYONE ELSE needs help please feel free to ask me <3
I also want to speak out on my abuse so others don't feel alone. (so tw) also ȋ̈ have blocked out MOST of this so it may be super patchy 😭
idk most of my childhood tbh 🤷 trauma woo
Also before i start lemme out this mf: his name was stupid as hell LMAOOO it was like Brenton or some stupid ass name like ew????
AND! i go into depth bc iv never rlly....told anyone other than therapists and maybe BARELY my close friend that iv known since 4th grade.
!!Please click off of this type if content bothers you!!:
SA, slight mention of poop & pee, and bad therapy, religious trauma, and su1c1de attempts. Please let me know if ȋ̈ should add anything else to this list.
I was around 5 years old and at the time i lived in a smaller neighborhood (different state than where i am now). Ȋ̈ miss that house but at the same time im glad i no longer stay there. My abuser was a few houses down from me and a few grades above me; im guessing maybe like 5th grader idk man i have blocked lots of my life out. At first he was a friend of mine, i looked up to him.
I really can't remember when it started, but he began to touch me.
Ȋ̈ would hang out with him in his basement and he would set up a box (like cardboard?? and he would have me get into it or something? idk) Ȋ̈ don't remember the first time it happened so ȋ̈ cant rlly give u specifics...but ȋ̈ do remember most of what he did to me. he ruined me.
it's funny how my brain blocked out all the GOOD things that happened to me as a̸ kid but didnt block out all the MAJOR bad things? like the point was to uhhhh yk FORGET THE BAD SHIT 💀 brains r silly
anyways!! I often wanted to play pretend with him, and he would comply for a little bit...but soon he would get bored. That's when the cardboard box would come out. Ȋ̈ would go inside, head in, legs out, pants down, his hands PULLING on my private area. He would ask if it hurt, and little me thinking nothing wrong of this (because ȋ̈ didnt know any better) would say no. Although it did sometimes hurt a little bit. Then after he was done HE would go in the box and ȋ̈ would touch HIM. He would FORCE me to tug his yk and i would comply. Ȋ̈ didnt know it was bad, ȋ̈ thought it was normal. Ȋ̈ mean ȋ̈ was FIVE.
This would go on for some time. I also remember at some point randomly he would like make me draw poop and stuff??? (also he made me watch him pee at one point wtf 😭😭😭 piss kink!?!?!?!?)
One day he was over at MY HOUSE and we were upstairs doing whatever idk. My parents always had a rule of not letting 'boys' in my room with the door closed due to them also going through SA and what not.
(and this experience of mine has left them to feel like they failed as parents, and like it was their fault because all they wanted to do was protect me from shit like this happening. Ȋ̈ want to take this moment to quickly tell everyone reading this that IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT AND NEVER WILL BE. Its your ABUSERS FAULT).
Eventually my abuser grabbed one of my american doll like , yk lemme try and find a pic of this shit:
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it was like some runway kit idk? not sure but he wanted to bring it to my room and use it to like cover me incase someone came in ig? idk 💀
So we went to my room and we closed my door, and yk he did what he did, same ole thing. eventually my parents noticed that it was quiet and they asked me to come downstairs. He tried to get me to lie and say ȋ̈ was in the bathroom ? ȋ̈ think ????? can't remember 🤷
anyways what i DO REMEMBER is that ȋ̈ was having trouble pulling up my pants and my mom was getting worried so she was now getting impatient and ȋ̈ had to go to the top of the stairs, my pants not all the way pulled up yet. As soon as she saw me, she knew what had happened.
Ȋ̈ can just imagine the horror in her eyes.
I was extremely confused on why she was so stressed and whatever, ȋ̈ thought what had happened to me was normal. Ȋ̈ mean he never acted like it was a secret so it must have been okay, right?
No, it wasnt and never will be.
My mom told him to go home and ȋ̈ had to tell her what happened.
Not long after i was brought to some sort of hospital to get checked. This part traumatized me more than what actually happened to me and idk why man 😭
they questioned me and i was extremely uncomfortable because i didnt know what was even happening and why it was bad.
It took me YEARS to figure out what happened to me was bad. Well let me word that more accurately; it took me years to feel ANGER for what had happened to me. Ȋ̈ understood (from therapy which i was IMMEDIATELY put into - will get to that later) that it was bad, it just took me a min before ȋ̈ felt like ȋ̈ lost my whole childhood due to the MAJOR depression this caused me.
The doctors asked me things like, "out of the three private areas, [because i am unfortunately born a female and have da boobies] where did he touch you?" and "did he penetrate you?"
At this time i was extremely confused and TERRIFIED. Just to put this into perspective, before all of this ȋ̈ was one of the most outgoing, bright minded, and adventurous kids. But in this doctors place? Ȋ̈ was terrified, and ȋ̈ felt cornered and stuck.
Ȋ̈ didnt understand what had happened to me was going to affect me for the rest of my life.
I didnt understand what had happened to me would cause me to want to kms multiple times.
I didnt understand that what had happened to me was known as SA and is illegal.
I didnt know.
I was 5.
All i knew was that my friend had touched me in a certain area. And thats what ȋ̈ told the doctors.
Im so thankful that he only touched me and that nothing further happened.
Later on (not sure how much later ȋ̈ just remember this and it haunts me) my 5yo self grabbed a̸ knife and went to my parents and said one simple thing. What was that simple thing?
I said, "Just do it."
I wanted them to kill me. I didnt know why, i just wanted them to kill me. I still dont know how or why ȋ̈ did that. Ȋ̈ don't know HOW my brain came to that conclusion...but ȋ̈ feel awful about it. Ȋ̈ hate that ȋ̈ put my parents through that.
My parents also got the police involved and you want to know what they did? Nothing. Nothing because my abuser was "too young." Oh fuck off thats BS. AND YOU FUCKING KNOW IT. YOU ALSO WANNA KNOW SMTHN? Ȋ̈ WASNT HIS FIRST VICTIM.
I wasnt his first prey.
And im so sure ȋ̈ wasnt his last.
You also wanna know something else? Ȋ̈ use to go to church with him. Thats not the only thing either, oh nonono! his dad was a pastor. You want to know what his dad said about me and my family? That it was all...
my fault.
The church believed him.
Most other churches around us also believed him and then hated us.
And this is why i do not like going to church !
(Ȋ̈ have nothing against god, ȋ̈ just do not believe in Christianity as my form of faith. ȋ̈ have my own beliefs. Ȋ̈ respect others though! <3)
Anyways my family IMMEDIATELY got me into therapy and im very grateful for that. Most times when something traumatic happens to someone they dont have the recourses to help them and so they develop SEVERE ptsd (ik this bc my mom has told me bits and parts of her experience). The problem was that my first real therapist was a bitch!!!!!!!
Let me tellya this! Forcing a̸ kid to WRITE about their SA and then force them to READ IT to their parents is NOT therapy. that just ADDED to my trauma. Tbh ȋ̈ was just LYING abt how ȋ̈ felt to get TF OUTTA THERE. Im glad to say that im now in therapy again (after ȋ̈ was sent to a̸ mental hospital in 7th grade, 2021~) and my current therapist is fucking AMAZING AND Ȋ̈ LOVE HERRRRRRR!!!
If anyone is scared of therapy or think they may need it and just like dont know bc they hear DUMB BITCHES SAY IF U NEED THERAPY AS AN ADULT THEN UR DUMB don't listen to them!!!!!!! IT HELPS SM. for me ȋ̈ just talk abt whats going on currently and not rlly the past. ȋ̈ really recommend it if youre able to go!
That is basically my story tbh, if you have questions please dont shy away from asking me! Im more than willing to answer them!
(extra shit ig:
this SA has caused me to get into more situations like it but online. it has caused me to be a hypersexual person and ȋ̈ have had to learn how to "deal" with that. It has also caused me, as iv mentioned before, to forget a̸ LARGE CHUNK of my childhood. Also it forced me to grow up extremely fast, which now causes me to get along with adults way more than children my age! OHHH and right after this happened my parents decided to move away from that neighborhood to protect me. like ȋ̈ was TERRIFIED of that guy).
Ȋ̈ hope this makes anyone else feel better <3
you got this, if ȋ̈ came out alive you can too. ȋ̈ believe in you <3
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lisbeth-kk · 11 months
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Continuing the May prompts with a letter story. Thanks for the tag @calaisreno
Healing letters
After grieving Sherlock for months, John decides to write down his feelings, just like his therapist, Ella, advised him to. First he tries to actually write. Physically. It’s too strenuous. He’s not used to writing by hand anymore. Besides the pages more often than not, gets soaked from his dripping tears, and the ink gets smeared all over the paper.
He'll use the blog, but he’ll disable comments. Although he does it for his own sanity, it may help the few friends he’s got to understand what he’s going through. He hasn’t exactly been socialising since Sherlock jumped off that roof, and he rarely answers his phone. 
He wants it to be a system to this. Each blog post will have its own topic. If not, John’s confident it’ll be just him babbling, not even making sense to himself. Today he feels a bit less depressed, and he can start with the anger.
I’m so angry with you, Sherlock. How could you kill yourself in front of me? Making me witness my best friend jump off a building to his death. Did you think I wouldn’t mind? That I wouldn’t grieve you just because I was pissed with you when I left you? You, the most observant man who’s ever walked the earth. How could you not know, you meant the world to me? What do you think it was like talking to you when you stood up there? I heard the tears in your voice, and you must’ve heard my despair as well. When I saw you lying at the pavement, my life ended too, you know. My whole world shattered. You were taken away before I could say a proper goodbye. How do you think that made me feel, Sherlock? Damn, you!
John’s mentally exhausted after posting the entry. He’s shaking with anger against Sherlock. Without giving it a second thought, he grabs his jacket and heads out to get some air. He walks quickly wherever his feet carries him. He doesn’t care much, and he must look quite intimidating, because other pedestrians are clearly avoiding him.
He makes tea and toast when he gets back. The anger has dissipated a bit. It’s actually liberating to feel something again. For weeks he’s just been numb. Haven’t cared about anything. He startles when his phone buzzes. A text from Molly. He deletes it without looking. She has most likely read the blog entry and wants to comfort him or something. Mike and Greg texts him a few hours later. John deletes those texts too. 
***
A few days later the anger is long gone. Another feeling has emerged in his mind the last couple of hours. His faith in Sherlock. It’s always been there, but never as strong as it is now. Curious, that.
From the first day I met you, I had faith in you, Sherlock. That drug bust at 221B told you that much. Perhaps I put you on a pedestal for a while, come to think of it. Nevertheless, despite all your odd habits, sulks and annoying behaviour, I always believed in who you were. The core of you. Not to flatter myself, but I think I knew you quite well. Perhaps not as well as Mycroft, although he once said that I knew you best of all. All that’s been said about you after you died, makes me believe in you even more. Because I know, Sherlock, that you never were a fraud. You may have shammed and tricked people for a case, but you were never a fake. To the day I die myself, I’ll deny that with everything I’ve got.
Again, John’s mentally exhausted after posting the new entry, but in another sort of way. The adrenaline doesn’t zing through his veins. It’s more like he’s poured out his soul. And in a way he has. He’s never uttered those words to anyone. 
Before the day is over, his phone buzzes with texts from Molly, Greg and Mike. He deletes all of them without reading. This quest is something he wants to execute without input from anyone.
***
A week passes without the urge to write. When the familiar nightmare appears one night, John knows it’s time for another blog post. He had waked screaming Sherlock’s name, seeing him fall from that roof again. His heart pounded like he’d run a marathon and his face was wet from crying, sobbing really.
How did I fail to see that something was amiss, Sherlock? I loathe myself for not observing you more thoroughly. Moriarty clouded my vision. You were so absorbed in his endeavours to get your attention. Flattered maybe, that another genius wanted to play with you. I should’ve seen that his only goal was to destroy you. He said so the first time. At the pool. “I’ll burn the heart out of you.” Whatever he meant by that. He certainly burned the heart out of me, if he had anything to do with your suicide. It must’ve been that. You would never do what you did unless you had no other choice. Am I right, Sherlock? I think I am, which makes it even harder to bear. The thought that if I’d been just a little bit smarter, more alert, less stubborn and angry with you....I might’ve saved you.
John shuts his phone off and drinks half a bottle of whisky after posting that entry, or letter as he’s started to call them. 
***
This will be his last letter. John knows that this also will be the hardest one, and maybe it’ll be the one that starts his healing properly. His grief’s still raw. Some days are better, other worse. This one tip more in favour of the latter.
How much can a man grieve before it destroys him, Sherlock? All I know is that I’ve grieved enough to last a lifetime. That said, I’ll never stop grieving you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Being in your orbit, saved my life. I was so lost back then, and now I’m even more lost. Because now I know what it’s like to be whole, to have a purpose, to wake every day, feeling excited about what may await me. A new case, a severed head in the fridge, listening to beautiful music from your violin, having takeaway from our favourite places, or dinner at Angelo’s, bantering with you about the lack of milk, or nagging you to eat something. There are so many things that vanished from my life when you died, Sherlock. Are you aware of that? I’m just existing nowadays. The amount of tears I’ve shed could fill the pond in Regent’s Park. I’ve hid them here at Baker Street. Out and about I put on a mask. Motionless. Stony. Speaking of. I’ve only been to your grave once since the funeral. The stone fits you. Polished, black with golden letters. Only your name. No dates or quotes. I talked to you when I stood in front of that stone. Asked you for a favour. To do one last magic trick. For me.
For an unknown reason, John enables comments after this entry, but hours go by, and the comment sections are still empty. Maybe he’d miscalculated people’s interest in him. After all, the readers of his blog were all interested in Sherlock, not in him, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise.
He takes a shower and heads for the bedroom when he hears a sound he hasn’t heard for ages. Someone’s commented on the blog. Probably Molly or Mike. His curiosity gets the better of him, though. The comment is on the last entry.
I heard you. SH
A bit angsty. I can reveal that I shed my share of tears throughout alongside with John...
@totallysilvergirl @notjustamumj @raina-at @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear
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naamahdarling · 6 months
Note
take a deep breath bud, in for 4 out for 8. Name every object you can see that is the color grey, name five animals that have the color orange on them, name three different kinds of flowers. Don’t just keep yourself distracted but also engaged and focused. I promise you can get through this.
My therapist taught me a really cool trick about the "counting" centering exercise*, because it has never been quite enough for me, even though it's very cool.
I told her that it doesn't last long enough. She said "Describe the object. Pick an object from the list and describe it as though you were trying to describe it to an alien. Describe every single detail you can. The rectangular red price sticker on the black and silver price tag, the size of the stuffed animal and how it differs from the actual animal, the shape of the leaves of the plant. Like that." And then move through the senses. She said it helped clients like me get more out of the exercise. (I described a Funko Pop of baby Groot that was in her office, and it was genuinely so surreal and distracting.)
And let me tell you, she was right! That made it a lot more effective! I actually use it now. So maybe someone will also get some help from it.
Obviously use whatever your dominant sense is to start with, and if any of your senses work differently enough that the exercise won't work with it, skip that one. Lap back around if necessary. Therapist said it's meant to bring you down enough that you can deploy other coping mechanisms as well, and not to completely bring you out of it, although it might do that. It helps me regain speech when I lose it during an acute attack, or focus on getting my feet under me when I'm so overwhelmed all I can think about is the trigger.
* It usually goes "five things you can see, four things you can hear, three things you can feel, two things you can smell, one thing you cant taste (or tasted recently)." But if you have someone helping you they can ask different questions.
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sugarcoated-lame · 2 months
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get to know me tag 🌻
@emeraldmoth 🧡 thank you so much for the tag (on my main acc @its-dee-lovely I just did it over here hehe) 🥰🧡
1. were you named after anyone?
yes! so kricket is just a nickname (gasp 😱 i know) but my mom chose my real name after an actor in a soap opera that she really loved
2. when was the last time you cried?
a few nights ago re-watching Me Before You, that movie makes me sob every time 🥺
3. do you have kids?
no kids, but i do have a fur baby 🥹
4. what sports do you play/have you played?
does dance count as a sport?? i took ballet and tap for a few years in elementary school lol, but aside from that no sports
5. do you use sarcasm?
me??? sarcastic? never 👀 (yes, i think sarcasm is hard-wired into all capricorns’ brains lmao)
6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?
eyes and smiles 🥹
7. what’s your eye color?
brown with little bits of hazel
8. scary movies or happy endings?
both? but i guess if i had to choose, happy endings bc i’m such a sap 🥹
9. any talents?
i can sing, but like the previous person said i also will not prove it lol 🙈, not sure if this counts as a talent, but i’ve been told i’m really good at giving advice — I’m the therapist of my friend group haha. and baking — I’ve been vegan for the past 7 years, so I’ve been doing all vegan baking since then and i think i could probably veganize any recipe at this point and make it delicious!
10. where were you born?
NYC 🗽 !!
11. what are your hobbies?
writing fics, songwriting, poetry, reading, watching movies, singing, baking, thrifting, playing video games (currently playing the last of us), drawing although it’s been a while
12. do you have any pets?
yes!! i have a calico kitty named patches (the most unoriginal name for a calico i know, i didn’t name her lol)
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AND i temporarily have my sister’s cat, Chai, living with me for the next few months!
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13. how tall are you?
5’5 and a half-ish ?
14. favorite subject in school?
people always think i’m insane for this, but my favorite subject was math.. also really loved forensics and psychology!!
15. dream job?
probably a singer or an actor… or both? as a kid i really wanted to be on broadway 🥺 would also love to be an author or a photographer!
no pressure tags: @sebsxphia @sunlightmurdock @hangmanssunnies @just-in-case-iloveyou @joelsgreys @joels-shitty-puns @pascalpvnk @ryebecca @floydsmuse @gracieheartspedro @itsthevelvetline @fairyheart @sio-ina-bottle @vee-bees-blog I’m a little late to this so sorry if you’ve already done it 🧡
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tange-my-rine · 11 days
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love, love, love || tangerine × he/him! reader
Part 2 of find yourself (and me).
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Summary: You knew Tangerine well, you'd fallen in love with the guy. But when a mission goes wrong and you fake your death, he can't know a word of it. And when you finally transition after years of wishing, you can hardly even imagine running into him again. If you thought you might, you'd run the opposite way. But fate had different plans. (PART 2)
TW: just murder mention (no descriptions of violence or anything), cursing (it's Tangerine), soft!Tangerine, and all things bullet train.
[[A/N: Based on a request by @random-thoughts-004. Y'all I wrote some clingy af Tangerine in this one, be ready. This is just more establishment of the universe, enjoy :)]]
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Despite Tangerine almost getting down to his knees and begging, you still worked with your agency. The same as Ladybug, and he was still your partner a majority of the time; Tangerine decidedly hated it, but you weren't switching over just because of the twins.
Maria had been with you through a lot, you'd hate ditch her.
This conversation was one well due to Ladybug, explaining well... everything. You thought he deserved to know (Tangerine did not). But it was your secret, so your opinion trumps.
"Wait, so," Ladybug started, leaning back into a chair in a way that shouldn't be comfortable but you somehow knew it was, "-4 years ago, almost 5 now, you were Butterfly?"
"Mhm," you nodded.
"And you faked your death?"
"Because of the White Death," you clarified.
"So, when he was killed on the bullet train," he continued, gears turning, "-you came out of hiding?"
"Yes," you answered.
"And you're a man now," Ladybug added, before turning to you thoughtfully, "-That's a lot of personal change to go through, are you sure you don't want my therapist's number? They're great-"
"Ladybug," you chastised.
"Sorry," he stopped his train of thought, before returning, "-and, just so I know because they could and would kill me at any moment, what's your relationship with the twins? I know you were partners before but mustache has that pendant on his neck and its kind of..."
He fell silent but you could tell by the look on his face -he meant romantic. That you and Tangerine were in a romantic relationship, which you... kind of were? He didn't say anything exclusively, but you assumed... Shit, maybe you shouldn't have assumed.
Later, you told yourself.
"First, you know his name is Tangerine," you responded, "-Secondly, they are my best friends."
He placed his hand over his heart, gasping, "You wound me, Beetle."
You rolled your eyes, "You're a close second."
Ladybug was already passed it, however, "Now, I hate to tell you this, but that pendant thing? Romantic. Romantic as hell. He keeps you next to his heart? Yeah, the guy's head over heels."
You furrowed your eyebrows, opening your mouth to respond.
"Although," he countered (to himself?), "-he is a strange man. I'm not even sure he has feelings past anger."
"Ladybug," you sighed, motioning to yourself, "-come back to me."
He shook his head, before blinking and refocusing on you, speaking then, "Tan's got it bad. Hate to ruin the dynamic, can't imagine the fallout with those two-"
"Ladybug," you replied, "-I know."
And then you paused, for a moment, "Well, I know he has feelings for me, we had this whole reuniting thing-"
"Reuniting thing?"
"Later," you answered, before thoughtfully adding on, "-but he didn't like clarify anything. Should I be assuming?"
Sure you kissed, countless times actually -like every time you met up. But Tangerine had never expressed his feelings to you, or you to him. You loved the guy, but who's to say he loves you?
"Clementine is a very strange man, Beetle," Ladybug paused, pursing his lips, "-but he's not stupid."
"Tangerine," you corrected, before exhaling, "-and stop doing that. You know the only thing keeping him from killing you is me, right?"
"And I thank you for that every day," he spoke gratefully, making prayer hands toward you.
You picked up a pen from the desk, and threw it at his head, "You're such an idiot."
After yet another 'you wound me', the conversation faded off. The next mission being run through (about a month or so away), your day, with Ladybug anyway, was over. You had no job today, mostly because you requested it, but the next one would be a few weeks' worth so you figured it balanced out.
Speaking of jobs, Tangerine (the twins, really) was in New York, you think, doing a job -a hit, maybe. He didn't tell you much about work, you weren't entirely sure why, but you thought it just might have to be a residual torture for not switching agencies. Or maybe he didn't want you to be worried. You could never really tell with him-
Hence the uncertainty. You'd hate to be the one to ask 'What are we?' because it had been so long, and there was something in you that assumed he loved you but... that wasn't certain.
It made you a little on edge, that you didn't have a label, that you didn't know if he loved you too. In fact, maybe all of it was just the adrenaline of you being alive-
Enough thinking for today, you thought -decidedly, before beelining into a bakery.
You'd seen it before with cute puns and a chalkboard outside on the sidewalk -you'd always wanted to go in. Why not today? You were free, and alone... and could really use a sweet of some sort.
Spiraling thoughts meant a sweet craving, what could you say?
Just as you slipped in the door and the warm scent of just... bakery crept through your nose, your phone rang. Vibrated in your pocket, you should say. You patted it for a second before pulling it out, not even reading the name -you kind of already had a clue.
"Hello?" You asked, brushing into the line, and skimming through the menu board. There were so many-
"Hello, love," he sighed out into the phone, and you could hear he was definitely frustrated, "'s good to 'ear your voice."
He called you sometimes, when he got angry -helped him calm down. At least, that's what Lemon said, and you tended to believe him. He was right about a lot, to be fair.
"Lemon tell you to call me?" you questioned, still flicking over the menu boards -there was some sort of toasted sweet bun called 'a bun in the oven'. Interesting choice.
"Yeah," he confirmed, before switching his tone, "-the fuckin' twat."
"What did he do now?" You laughed, you imagined him all harsh edges but still soft with you -you enjoyed the new dynamic. It was... nice.
Made you feel like you were special.
How special? your brain chimed, Boyfriend special? Love special?
You swatted away the thought, trying to listen attentively to your... Tangerine. This was not the time to be worrying about labels, nor was it ever but you knew you would later. Always something to ruin the good.
"Doesn't matter, love," he exhaled out, and you wanted to contradict but something in you said he just wanted to hear you, "-how has your day been? That fuckin' prick treat ya well?"
It was always so weird, to hear such casual things from him. But he always seemed to want to know, he was so genuine about it -wants to know everything. (Maybe so he can kill whoever is necessary if it was a bad day, but still-)
"Ladybug responded very well," you hummed out, "-totally understanding. And it's been... uneventful. Had the meeting with him, and now I'm..."
You paused for a minute, realizing you'd told him about this place before, "Oh! I'm in that bakery I've always wanted to stop by. Had nothing better to do, so, thought I'd see how it holds up."
"You went without me?" He was smiling, you could tell, "-You'll 'ave to tell me the verdict, yeah?"
"Just wait a few minutes and I will," you smiled, chest warm and fuzzy, there was something so domestic about these calls. It made you think that it was labeled, that you were... something.
"'ve got a few minutes," he hummed, low and soft -you could nearly see him in your head. Hunched over a counter, curls falling forward and a ghost of a smile on his lips -listening attentively.
It was midday there, and he usually called you at night, so it must've been something in particular. Maybe bigger than Lemon doing something. You wanted to ask, truly, but he didn't seem to want to about whatever it was.
"Glad you could clear your schedule," you responded with a bitten back laugh.
"You think you're fuckin' funny, yeah?"
"Very," you answered with a smile.
You were next in line, so you skimmed the menu and picked what you wanted. Even with its atrocious name, it still sounded pretty promising; plus the smell in here helped.
Slipping into a booth, you scoot to the wall and place your treat on the table in front of you. The bakery was a little busy, but not the kind that you could hardly think in. It was calmer, like a murmur in the back of your head.
You questioned, toying with the packaging -it probably made a crinkling noise in the background, "How's the job going? Any more staking out?"
He paused, and you could hear a little of the frustration again but it felt distant, "It'll be another day, the guy ended up in the wrong fuckin' safe house. Not the one we'd been at for six hours."
You heard the distant voice of Lemon but you couldn't make it out, Tangerine decidedly did not tell you what he said.
"You not enjoying the city, Tan? The Big Apple?" You posed, a little sarcastically.
"Fuckin' 'ate it 'ere," he muttered, "-'s crowded and stinks. And..."
He faltered for a moment.
"And you're not 'ere," he finished, a little nonchalantly.
Oh, your heart stuttered in your chest, was he sweet now?
You knew he was always sweet, always a gentleman, but he rarely ever said it. He was more of a show-er, not a tell-er. You didn't mind, but to hear it out loud was something entirely different.
"I miss you too, Tangerine," you spoke, gently, so as to not break the moment.
"Yeah?" He asked, seemingly genuinely inquisitive.
"Of course," you nearly laughed, "-what, you think I don't miss you?"
He fell awfully silent, and something in you shifted. Did he really think-
"Tangerine?" You questioned, a bit in disbelief, "-Seriously?"
"You 'ave friends around," he murmured, low like he didn't quite want you to hear it, "-I'm halfway across the fuckin' country-"
"Sure you are," you echoed out, now fully drawn into the conversation, "-but that doesn't mean I'm not going to sit and wait for you. You know that's what I do, right? Wait for you?"
"When... When I come back," he hummed out before sighing big and long, "-no more waitin' on each other, yeah?"
"I'll wait as long as I need to for you, Tan," you hummed out, picking a piece of your treat off, "-but, if you're saying let's go somewhere, I am very into it."
Popping it into your mouth, you heard him chuckle -it made your stomach swirl. You missed the noise; it felt so special to hear, so special, to see the little grin twitch onto his lips.
"You don't 'ave to wait for me."
"I do," you clarified, "-you're my Tangerine, of course, I'm going to wait for you."
"Your Tangerine?" He questioned, and you couldn't tell the tone.
Shit.
"Well," you finished, awkwardly -fidgeting with the wrapper even more, "-yeah, I guess."
He hummed, letting out a little laugh, and it felt like everything in you was on fire. Did he agree? Did he not agree? Your brain was running at 100 miles per hour, as you listened to the silence on the other end.
Finally, you decided to change the subject.
"This is really good," you picked off more and popped it into your mouth, "-you'll definitely have to come here."
He paused for a minute, before replying -thoughtfully (and maybe a little nervously), "You think we can go together sometime? When I'm not... halfway across the fuckin' country."
"Yeah," you smiled, "-whatever you want, Tan."
The rest of the conversation was slow, and boring, honestly, but it seemed to relax Tangerine. You could almost hear the frustration dissipating, rolling off his shoulders the more you talked. You didn't have much to talk about, but you did your best for him -filled the silence.
He didn't bring up the 'my Tangerine', and promptly neither did you.
Before you could hang up, though, you heard a bit of a scuffle, and the voice changed on the phone. Footsteps pattering and cars honking, you realized suddenly they were outside.
"Hi, it's Lemon, stole the phone," he let out quickly, "-just wanted to let you know, because he's too pig-headed to fuckin' say it, he misses you like crazy. It's actually drivin' me mad."
You opened your mouth, but he kept going.
"Should've fuckin' heard 'im on the stakeout, 'Beetle this' and 'Beetle that'," he spoke mockingly, "-and as much as I love you, mate, and I do, he's drivin' me fuckin' insane."
"Lemon, calm down," you laughed out, "-I can barely understand you."
"But you did, yeah?" Lemon clarified, "-Got the whole, 'my brother seemingly can't survive without you constantly in his circle' thing?"
"You're overreacting," you pointed out, "-I'm sure he-"
"No, mate, seriously," he began again, almost desperate, "-I'm goin' to tell 'im to start callin' you daily. He gets so pissy, it's like he's gettin' fuckin' withdrawals."
"Lemon," you sighed out, "-your brother is always pissy."
"Not with you around," he countered, and your heart fluttered in your chest, "-and I can handle regular Tangerine, trust me 'ave my whole life, but this... this is new."
You somehow believed him, "Really?"
"Yeah," Lemon confirmed, before speaking softer, "-I just wanted you to know. I know my brother... isn't exactly open with 'is feelings. It's not 'is strong suit, and you know 'at, but I figured it might help to 'ear from someone else."
You paused for a moment, touched, "Thank you, Lemon."
"The bloke is crazy about you."
You paused, just listening for a second. Digesting it, maybe you didn't need a label. Maybe you already knew.
"Actually, he's fuckin' insane about you," and suddenly he was worked up again, "-just keeps repeatin' and repeatin', I swear to fuckin' god-"
"Lemon," you spoke, exasperated, but still with a smile, "-I get it."
"Yeah, yeah, okay," he sighed -seemingly stopping on the sidewalk.
"Both of you, be safe, yeah?"
"Oh, trust me, mate," he laughed, "-my brother will kill everyone in 'is path if it means he gets to come back to you."
He did end up calling you everyday. You hadn't expected it at first, but then the next day you saw his name flicker across the screen, and the next, and the next. You get the picture.
You're not sure if Lemon forced him to or not, but the text ('thank you, I owe you everything') from him seemed to say it was helping.
And you were glad to help. The idea of a daunting label and love faded to the back of your mind; because even if he didn't love you, he really cared about you and that was a big deal for Tangerine.
Plus, you think he'd love you back eventually.
That brought you to now, you were teetering around your hotel room -still safely in the same city. Ladybug was too somewhere, but he was off on his own thing -he'd call if it was anything dangerous. Or he should anyway.
Ladybug was a wildcard sometimes.
Like the time he hadn't brought a weapon on a hit, because he was doing some "self-cleansing". There were a few times of the same caliber.
You'd gotten used to it by now.
Just as you finally roamed to the couch, grabbing a blanket from the back of it and pulling it over you -switching on the TV, there was a knock on the door.
You furrowed your eyebrows in thought, who the hell could that be?
Your mind immediately went to Ladybug, and to be fair, he did usually show up with no warning. So, it could definitely be him. Plus, he was in the same city. And then, you had the sudden thought that he was hurt and needed your help.
You scampered to your feet without an extra thought, rushing to open the door -waiting for the ever-familiar face. God, he's probably-
That, however, was not the face you expected.
"Tangerine? Hey, what are you-"
Before you could say another word, he gathered you up in his arms -wrapping himself completely around you and slouching slightly to shove his face in your neck. He kicked the door shut without even looking up.
You fell silent -a bit in awe.
This (cuddling?) was very new.
You paused for a moment trying to steady yourself, before relaxing, and raising your hand to brush over his scalp. Threading your fingers through his hair, you could nearly see his shoulders drop the tension they held. Huh.
"Hey, Tan?" You offered, slow and timid.
He hummed into your skin, and you took it as a response.
"Can I-" you spoke, hesitantly, "-lock the door?"
Tangerine sat up at that, arms still wrapped around you with a quirk in his brow, "We're fuckin' assassins, love. Are you really worried about someone breakin' in?"
Still, he pulled you with him and flipped the lock.
"Well," you echoed, a touch embarrassed, "-now that you say that."
He laughed, his head tilting back slightly and you got a woosh of his cologne -which really smelt good. Your head went a little fuzzy at it.
Before you could say a word though, Tangerine leaned forward and kissed you -simple and domestic. Warm and fuzzy. It was just a press of the lips, but it was a little longer -like he somehow needed it. Wanted to feel it longer. Have you around him, maybe.
When you parted and your eyes fluttered open, you brought a hand to his face, "Are you okay, Tan? You're kind of... freaking me out."
He pressed his lips together, and something in him softened -you did not see the hard exterior at all with the moment. It was both refreshing and terrifying -you couldn't decide which one wom you over.
You took his silence as the initiative to keep talking, "You have never hugged me like that, ever, and you're being sweet. Suspiciously sweet."
Tangerine smiled at you for a moment, before pulling you forward and resting his head on top of yours. Moving slightly so he could bury his nose in your hair, he muttered out, "'Ere's a first time for everythin', yeah?"
"Tan," you pressed, but decidedly didn't move, "-it's not that I don't like this, far from it actually, but you... Are you okay?"
He took a deep breath in, before pulling back -running a hand through his hair, "Just tired, love, exhausted."
"You weren't supposed to be here until Monday," you questioned, grabbing his hand and placing yours in his stead -fingers brushing through the hair (like you'd ever give that up), "-it's not Monday."
"Lemon, the dick, told me to come back," he explained, leaning ever-so-slightly into your hand, "-told me he was fuckin' sick of it and booked me a ticket."
"Did you get the job done? The hit?"
"Yeah," he clarified, "-he just wanted to stay in the city longer. Wanted to go 'sightseeing' like a fuckin' tourist. Did he forget we were 'ere on a job?"
"Tangerine," you laughed, "-Lemon deserves to have fun. Life isn't just about the job."
He looked at you a certain way then, some affectionate haze bloomed across his eyes, "Yeah, it isn't."
You thought for a spare second, he may have been talking about you. That you were the other side of his life. And the more you thought about how he showed up, sweet and touchy, maybe he was.
"You know you can-" you paused, "-relax with me, right? I didn't mean to say you can't be like that, I just... I wanted to make sure everything was okay."
Tangerine pursed his lips.
"I'm not, shit-" you exhaled, "-You can be whatever sort of Tangerine you want to be with me. I won't mind."
"'At's an odd way of sayin' it, but-" he responded, "-I understand, love."
"Good," you patted your hand on his chest, "-because I was really hanging on by a thread there."
He laughed, a tiny little chuckle, and without hesitation, kissed you again -soft and slow. There was no end goal with it, just like he wanted to know you were there -you were real.
You'd talked about it before, the nightmares. The ones of you with a different face, dying, and all he could do was stand by watching; or even the ones with your same face, and the same thing. Dying right in front of him, and he was helpless.
"Tangerine?" You hummed, soft and in between the press of lips.
"Yes, love?"
You pulled back, raising your hands to cup his face and thumbs lingering under his eyebags, "Let's get some sleep, yeah? You look tired."
He turned his face into your hand, kissing your palm -his mustache tickled a little, and with a slow, succinct nod -he agreed.
Just as you began to pull him into the room though, he suddenly stopped. Feet frozen in place, you spun around to look at him.
"Just so ya know," he spoke, slow and soft -not breaking the mood, "-you're my Beetle too."
You smiled, mimicking, "Yours?"
"Yeah," he smiled -big and bright and only for you to see, "-definitely fuckin' mine."
Yeah, he loves you. You were surprised you'd ever even wondered otherwise.
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l0st-identity · 21 days
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A lot happened today ("today"). I'm not sure if I have to put a trigger warning for anything.
So I actually had to reschedule that oral surgery and it was today ("today"), and uhhh.
They couldn't continue with it because while I was asleep under the anesthesia, they told me that apparently my whole body like scrunched up and I was saying (I don't know if I was yelling or what?) "help me help me!" and something about my throat or something restricting my breathing, so I essentially like stopped breathing and they had to wake me up immediately. I don't remember any of that, because I was asleep during all of it, so I wouldn't remember all that, I only remember them waking me and I remember that I had a dream about playing Splatoon (one of my main autistic special interests) next to my partner at our house, and when I woke up I actually forgot that I was at the oral surgeon and not home.
And when I woke up, one of the doctors asked me "Who is Rose?" (I guess I said her name while I was under?) and I had to explain that they are my partner and they are trans and not out to their family yet, so I had to explain not to call them Rose around her mom (in case her mom was going to be with me while they were here) and I'm honestly extremely lucky and privileged to be in one of the much more safer states in the U.S. when it comes to trans rights and whatnot, I'm thankful they were not transphobic and actually completely understood, it seemed.
I ended up crying a bit and talking about how much I love my partner and how she's basically saved my life and stuff and honestly? Ultimate form of love. Do you even really love your partner if you don't wake up from anesthesia and cry about how much you love them? (joking lmfao).
I had no idea I had the bad reaction to the anesthesia until one of the doctors came back and had to explain.
When I first had this appointment, like for the consultation, they asked me if I had any mental health conditions, and I refrained from saying, because obviously people don't really take kindly to saying you have DID - you never know who doesn't believe it exists, who's going to be rude about it, etc.
And I have been under anesthesia before, at this exact same place, so I didn't think that it would like. Be something I would need to mention, since, although I woke up crying the last time I was asleep for oral surgery, (also a child alter ended up fronting later in the car on the way home, but I didn't know it at the time), I didn't have any kind of reaction like this. It was also a time where I was much, much, much more in denial of my DID and unaware of it, and I think I only really had this reaction BECAUSE I am so much more aware now.
But anyways, I did end up telling the doctor that I do have DID and PTSD and if that could be a cause and they said that the kind of reaction I had was EXTREMELY rare, like to a point where they told me that the only other times they had patients with this kind of reaction were other people with PTSD, so they said it made sense and also explained that that was extremely important to mention, like I could have.. Died. But like I said, I.. Didn't know I was going to have that reaction, and I have been under before at this same place and it was fine, so I was like surely I'm not going to have a bad reaction (famous last words).
But anyways yeah they couldn't do the surgery, so they have to call back in a few days and set an appointment for a different hospital so that I could have a breathing tube while I'm under so that this doesn't happen again.
Lots of stuff to talk about with my therapist.
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traumatizedjaguar · 3 months
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Hi I love your blog, a lot. Still processing some horrific things of my own. How do you get through the darkest moments? I hate mine.
Honestly for me how I got through some dark moments...
Music. Usually a technique I learned from therapy was putting music on that was the opposite of my current emotion; if I was sad or depressed or whatever I'd put happy tunes on or if I was angry, calming tunes. Sometimes finding music that allowed me to let out emotions too like if I was angry I'd listen to a few angry songs from Slipknot for example and have a little session to myself, then I'd go relax. Music affects my mood, but it's not like that for everyone. I made a playlist for "abuse recovery" meaning the songs are more uplifting, makes me feel like a warrior.
Survivors stories. Listening to others stories of their complex abuse they've been through and saving them all in a word document to go back to later. Finding people I relate to who've been through the EXACT same abuse I have been through. It helps finding out you're not the only scapegoat or you're not the only one with many abusers and rapists. It helps to know I've met people with 15, 16, 18, and 25 abusers before.
Meditation. It sounds stupid to most people but if you research the affects meditation has on the human body and brain when you use it daily or on a consistent schedule in the long-term, it's amazing to know what it does for you. It's hard at first, but eventually you get used to it. And sometimes I have a focus point when meditating, such as listening to my breathing going in and out in a quiet space so my thoughts don't drift; because drifting thoughts or worrying isn't meditating so like I said, it's hard at first. But your mind gets so used to it after awhile.
Changing my environment. I've rearranged my whole room, put posters up, painted it so it feels like I'm in a different house sometimes. Adding something new and different to your life like a hobby or something you've never tried and do it often, it can be a good distraction. I like using distractions often.
(TW: God mention. Skip this paragraph if needed be. This one might just be me) Putting my faith in God Our Creator and having had many communications with him before. Sharing my space with him, inviting him on walks with me, telling him about my day although he sees everything I do, and asking him about his "day". I got into talking to Norse gods and the Creator and it has helped so much knowing a divine entity who created everything in the universe wants me to be safe and heal and actually told me this in many ways; who tells me he loves me and knows I'm a very loved good soul in his eyes. (I try but never feel that way).
Doing the scary thing and reaching out. I have reached out to people and told them my story and told them about my abusers and they've believed me. Focusing only on the ones who believed me even though my story is insanity with abusive parents, abusive brother and abusive exes who all smear campaigned me and many of them raped me too. No matter how much complex abuse, there was people out there and other victims who took my side. I only focus on the good ones, not the bad ones who don't believe me. Because once I shut out EVERYONE except the good ones, then my world only has love in it.
>>Making word documents for healing. I learned I was in a freeze state recently and I've been teaching myself about it through online trauma therapists (I'm so happy to be living in the digital age) and I've learned about it and I'm doing the work necessary everyday to teach my brain different and rewire it. It's also why I shut down around abusers and can barely speak even when I want to.
>>Trauma therapists: Crappy Childhood Fairy, Patrick Teahan to name a few. Patrick Teahan helped me so much specifying types of sibling abuse that were SO SPECIFIC to what ive been through and scapegoating in family systems, he taught me about how some family systems gang up against one family member (so like 6 family members for example, against one of the kids in order to scapegoat properly there's many abusers in most situations) and how im not the only one with many abusers in one family and im not the only scapegoat. He also made videos that were WAYYYY to specific to the abuse I endured and wayyyy to specific to the behaviors and belief system my abusers held. He has so many great videos for people like me. First time I listened to a few of his videos on family abuse, I was overwhelmed with emotion and joy and it made my heart and stomach flutter. I love Patrick Teahan so much and hes a real therapist too.
Make stuff, build stuff, start projects.
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cobiehaven · 1 year
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Hunted — Hwang Hyunjin
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SYNOPSIS; you don’t know what you did to get on someone’s bad side so much to have them hire someone to kill you but with your record, you weren’t about to let some tall man, dressed in all black, overpower you.
PAIRING; hitman!hyunjin x boxer!reader, ft. boxer!changbin.
GENRE; drama, angst, slightly funny.
WORD COUNT; 3.2k
TAGS/WARNINGS; hitman au, assassin au, boxer au, slightly violent scene, strong language, lowkey not really a suggestive scene, hyunjin lowkey is crushing on reader, frequent death storyline mentioned, no established ending.
AUTHORS NOTE; i know a hitman and assassin are two different things but we can pretend that it’s the same in this context 🫶.
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you don’t know what you did to get on someone’s bad side like this but you sure as hell thought you didn’t deserve to be targeted like this.
three weeks ago, your life started going down hill when your family went off on a business trip to the states. you stayed behind because you had a lot of financial businesses to catch up with and you wouldn’t be able to make up for those outside of your hometown. fully expecting your parents to return back home safely, you were greeted with the police knocking on your door in the middle of the night to let you know that your parents had been deemed missing and presumed dead after two weeks. although you weren’t there for your parents disappearance, you just knew your parents wouldn’t kill themselves and leave everything up to you. you were an only child and your parents were always happy and loyal people, they would never think of doing something like that or leave you with nothing but grocery money!
especially without leaving a note!
besides, it was a common thought for old people to assume that suicide was a selfish way to go. your parents definitely fell under that category.
in your head, it didn’t make any logical sense as to why your own flesh and blood would take their lives without leaving behind a note.
you sighed as you knew that you wouldn’t get your answers just by moping around and hoping something was going to start piecing together. you needed more evidence. and that’s was what you were going to get!… just as soon as you got the money to afford a plane ticket to the states. for now, you were just digging around in all of your parents records or what they had that could lead to people who might have disliked or known of someone who disliked your parents enough to drive themselves to murder.
so far, all of the people and places you have visited hasn’t been in your best of luck.
you sighed and closed up the big cardboard box on the floor, lifting it into your arms and shoving it back on the top shelf of your parents closet. as you wiped the sweat from your forehead, your attention was brought to the buzzing noise coming from the bedside table. you smiled when you saw your best friends name pop up on the screen, wasting no time to answer it. “hey binnie,” you nicknamed him. “what’s up?” you could hear slight rustling on the other side of the phone, you left him on speaker as you finished up gathering the mess you had made while researching. “just wanted to check in on you,” he said as you playfully rolled your eyes.
“bin, you know you don’t need to be my therapist and check up on me everyday every two hours, right?”
“i know but if i lost my parents i’d be pretty-“
“it’s fine. i’m not sad, i’m just…”
“depressed? anxious? mourning? slowly but surely going insane?”
“….”
“….”
“are you done?”
“most definitely.”
the both of you shared a small laugh together before you could hear your phone going off again, the familiar facetime ringing boosting a good kind of happiness in you. you reached for your phone, accepting the facetime and nearly jumping when changbin screamed at you through the phone. “what?!” you clutched your hands to your chest. “why do you look so exhausted?!” you blinked at him, he blinked back, you rolled your eyes, he pursed his lips. “i told you, i’ve been looking for stuff all night.” you did indeed tell him this when he called you at like 4 in the morning asking for yet another daily checkup. “i don’t know how you forgot, you literally called me again 10 minutes after i told you i was fine this morning,” you shrugged and dropped the papers back into the other box you had laid out. “i was bored that time! there’s a difference!” you just hummed in response.
“so we’re you only calling me to check up on me or did you call for something else?”
“i actually did call for something else.”
“i’m listening.”
“when are you moving out of the house?”
ah, this question. it was one that you were highly and desperately trying to avoid answering and conflicting with. the landlord has been after your ass the whole week since it was just the start of a new month. she couldn’t give you any more chances if you were going to drag out the payments like this. but the thing was… you had no other choice when you needed the money to spend on food.
“that is a great question,” you answered shortly after, trying to make it seem like you weren’t stressed out by it.
“hey! if you come by the gym, i think the coach was talking about setting up a bed for you upstairs since you won’t be having a place to stay soon.”
“binnie, you know i don’t take offers like that. tell him i said i’ll be fine and wouldn’t want to dirty his spare place just because i have a lot going on.”
“you know he won’t give up on asking.”
you sighed, just wanting this whole mess to come to a close. although, it was only you who was dragging this out. you didn’t tell anyone about your self-induced investigation except for changbin but somehow it seemed like a good people knew by now. you should have known that telling him would cause problems when you considered how loud he was.
“he’s only going to keep asking you if you keep skipping practice.”
“he’s going to keep asking me even if i come to practice.”
“i think you should just take the offer. i mean, what else do you plan to do? respectfully, i know you don’t have the money to afford a place.”
“i can afford a place!”
“i mean a safe place.”
you didn’t say anything as you both knew that if you didn’t take the coaches offer, then you would either be sleeping on the streets or be sleeping in a run down building with wanted criminals as your next door neighbors.
besides, changbin was fully aware of this strange feeling you’ve been getting whenever you were alone.
the feeling of someone watching you constantly.
it was best to play your cards safe for the time being.
“fine, i’ll talk to him about it tomorrow,” you sighed, glancing over to the outdated calendar of two years. you weren’t surprised that your parents still used it as they couldn’t afford wasting money on another nice looking calendar. every penny was worth saving for living and food.
you still had until the end of the week before you had to give the house up. which happened to be coming up much faster than you wanted it to.
you just hoped that everything would work out with no complications.
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he didn’t say no. in fact, he offered to let you live there until you had all of your debts payed off and got to living comfortably in your own home. only… it was the coach that you had hoped not to ask and with no days left to plan accordingly, you were forced to ask the second in lead. according to changbin, the vise-coach was the brother of the head-coach. you didn’t believe it though, the two of them were nothing alike much less looked alike. maybe they were only half related? or maybe step siblings? either way, one of them definitely showed up to practices more than the other.
changbin kept making awkward jokes that the vise-coach had some kind of crush on you to let you stay for as long as you want but you played it off as there was no way that could be when you don’t even show up to practice half of the time.
“hwang hyunjin…” you read from the hung up posters on the walls dating from all the former coaches up till now. it was a picture of a man with long blonde hair and thick pink lips, his eyes were sharp and his build was long. you read that he was the vise-coach of this place, currently. although you weren’t sure how much that would last as the main coach often favored other people every 3 weeks. “well, at least now i actually know his full name.” you had failed to notice the fairly small posters of their faces on the back walls until now. the gym always had low lights so it was often hard to make out certain things when it came to just having a glance around. “y/n?” you heard a familiar voice call out to you. you whipped your head around, your eyes locking with the one that you weren’t sure if you were happy or scared to see. “coach!” you were startled when you took extra notice to his bare chest and shoulders flashing you, the white cloth draped over his damp bronze and another wrapped around his waist loosely, the small droppings of water falling from his edges to the floor below you both. although you saw half naked men all the time for being the only girl in this gym, it still was something you could never get used to when it was anything but shorts or sweats. at least it was the right coach this time… quickly, you cleared your throat.
“thank you for letting me stay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy for being such an intruder. “huh? what do you mean?”
there was a very long and rippling silence.
you shifted left and right to each foot. “oh, coach hwang didn’t tell you..?” you had no idea why the second in lead wouldn’t immediately bring up such a big issue to the head but for now you were just going to blame it on your sudden change of heart to stay. “tell me that you were staying?” you nodded. “at first i was going to offer to clean the entire gym but i felt that wouldn’t be enough payment for letting me stay in the overnight room,” you shifted awkwardly again when you saw him glance down at the loads of bags and boxes laying at your feet.
“oh, well, if you don’t have anywhere else to stay then i don’t mind you staying here but were you planning to make this a permanent stay?”
“until i grab the money to grab my own place, yes.”
“okay but y/n… just know that i already gave you a free pass to practice here without any cost.”
“yes sir, i am aware.”
“that was my gift to your parents, now this is my gift to you. i better not get any complaints from anyone.”
you nodded and bowed, waiting until he disappeared around the corner to go change into his clothes before lifting your head up again.
if it weren’t for your parents unexpected death, you probably would be one of the best fighters in the ring.
you wished things turned out that way instead of how they did. your life would be so much happier knowing that they’d be alive and well.
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after a couple of nightly hours, you finally finished unpacking your things just to get settled for the night. the extra room was in the very back of the gym so you didn’t have to worry about being disturbed in the early mornings. besides, the gym often didn’t open until late afternoon so you got to sleep in as much as you wanted. that would be assuming your 10 jobs didn’t mind, anyways. you highly doubted they wouldn’t mind.
as you flared up your favorite comforter onto the bed, you were suddenly interrupted when your stomach growled loudly.
you glanced at the newly set up clock, “oh.. i forgot to eat dinner again.” you made your way over to your bag to flip out your wallet, frowning when you only had enough to buy maybe a couple of things at the convenience store. the rest would sadly have to be saved on covering debts. “ugh, whatever. you can never go wrong with food,” you sighed off and got yourself ready to go out in just sweats and a large t-shirt.
the walk wasn’t long, thankfully there was an alleyway that led to a shorter route to the store. you had never once found that alleyway unsettling as you had walked down it multiple times during the night and day but that all changed on your way back after picking up your dinner for the night. taking quiet footsteps down the dark aisle, you were startled when you heard rustling plastic coming from the dumpster, your head never darted around so fast. “hello..?” you looked around, hearing the rustling again. you prepared yourself for whatever person could be hiding from you. but you soon cringed at yourself when you saw a familiar ball of white fur lurk out from behind the trash, your nerves subsiding into a warming awe. “hi cutie,” you crouched down, your fingers spreading out to pet the stray cat that typically came to visit you at your place every night. “what are you doing all the way out here so far from home?” you asked as if the cat could speak back to you. “did you follow me?” you giggled, running your fingers through her soft fur before reaching into your bag and pulling out a small can of tuna that you were going to have with your rice for dinner. “i know its not what you usually have but i promise ill get you your favorite next time,” you popped the can open and laid it on the ground, a smile spreading across your face when she started to take chunks of it.
you had been feeding this cat for a while. you could say that the two of you had been together for a long while although you never thought of a good name to give her despite being with her since she was born. right now, she was still technically a kitten. you were surprised she had survived this long with her glistening white fur. you were always paranoid she would be handled to the predators.
reaching your hands out, you continued to pet her as she ate, not brushing too hard as you didn’t want to disturb her. yet you couldn’t stake the sudden feeling in your gut that someone was watching you, again.
it didn’t take you long to say your goodbyes to your kitten before making your way back to the gym, definitely keeping an eye on your surroundings.
you don’t know why but for some reason whoever this person was that was spying on you, they hadn’t made their first move yet. it has been 3 days that you’ve been getting this feeling. and it was really starting to piss you off.
thankfully, when they did, you were ready for it.
when you turned the corner to leave the alley, you quickly rerouted and gave your best hit to the man following closely behind you.
making sure that you had stayed close to the wall so he wouldn’t see your upcoming attack when turning the corner after you.
he stumbled with a loud groan, his hands shooting to his masked face in pain. you were lucky to have studied how to throw hands for so long otherwise this would have been a tough fight. bringing the stranger down with ease, you quickly disarmed him and tore the mask off. you were surprised to see the face behind the darkened clothes. “coach hwang…?” you were completely flabbergasted. “yeah…” you took a step back from his bruised form. “but i don’t understand… were you the one spying on me?” you breathed out, your hands suddenly glossing with sweat. “can we not talk about this here?” he muttered, staying put on the ground as a way to show that he wasn’t going to take off.
you squinted your eyes at him, his adam’s apple bobbing.
“fine but i swear if you try anything.”
he put his hands up in defeat.
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“i don’t get it, why didn’t you fight back?” you questioned him, taking the extra precautions to tie him up to one of the corner pads. “and why were you even watching me? if you were going to kill me then why not do so days ago? also why did you allow me to stay here when you already knew of my locations? i don’t understand!” you pressured. “explain.”
hyunjin sweat nervously, if it weren’t for the binding against his wrists, he probably would have been curling himself into a protective ball. maybe even running at this point.
undoubtedly, he was scared of you. but not just because you punched him a couple of times.
“i didn’t want to kill you,” he said. “why?” you questioned back.
“i didn’t think you were worth killing.”
“then why go after me in the first place?”
“i was hired to do so.”
“by who? for what reason? why didn’t you think i was worth killing?”
“your such a kind person. strong, determined, loyal, loving. why does someone like you have to die?”
“you’re a personal killer, aren’t you? why do you care about things like that?” you narrowed your eyes at him, he looked down in shame.
“i do with just you.”
“that’s not an answer.”
“sure it is.”
you weren’t buying it. you refused to believe he didn’t just shoot you when he had the chance just because changbin was right and he actually did have a crush on you.
he didn’t say anything for a while, he didn’t even move much until he realized that you were still waiting for an answer out of him. “the person who hired me to kill you is not a good person. it’s hard for me to kill people i know even though this is the secret life that i have. i don’t do it often but when i do, i get serious. only, it’s hard to do it to people i know who don’t deserve such harm,” he said in a loud enough tone for you to hear clearly. “then why don’t you just reject the offer?” you asked.
“that’s what i’ve been trying to do with your case but like i said, the person who is hiring me is not a good person.”
“can’t i help you then?”
“what could you possibly help me with? you don’t have the money or have any idea who it is that is trying to target you.”
“i have you.”
it was silent for a few moments, his head slowly lifting up to glance into your shrugged expression.
“if it gets me to stop being hunted by some random person and could possibly lead to some clues on my parents, then i’ll do anything it takes to find this person and get my answers.”
this was the kind of determination that hyunjin loved to see in you, ever since day one.
“now,” you walked towards him, your hand coming within centimeters from brushing him up against the pads. “tell me where i can find this person or i’ll make sure you get a good beating tonight.”
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© cobiehaven 2023
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sakuraoora · 1 year
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Oh buddy, do I have the BEST song for your music event!~
"Almost Human" by Voltaire is a song that needs to be on every Scaramouche playlist. Unfortunately it isn't yet, but hopefully when more people begin to associate this song about the literal Devil from The Bible with BigHat McMommyIssues instead this mistake will be remedied.
If you don't want to make this too much like your last Scaramouche x reader fic, perhaps it could be strangers to friends to lovers? I just like the idea of someone looking at this random grumpy dude and trying to cheer him up and then we flash forward several weeks and now you're the therapist friend of a Fatui Harbinger and you now realize how dangerous this he is, but at this point they don't care because this guy needs another person to confide in and you've dedicated yourself to the task and you've been slowly helping Scara become a little less touche starved and you're planning on asking to hug him when you two meet up next week and oh god dammit you are in love with him, why are you just realizing this as he's traumadumping you about his mom?!?!
You don't need to do that prompt exactly if it's too much, I just put too many words into everything I write. I'll leave it up to you my dude!
Can't wait to read what you write for this prompt~! In the meantime though, have a nice day!
MCMOMMYISSUES OH MY GOD THATS PERFECT 💀
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ALMOST HUMAN
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It was a quiet day in Chinju Forest.
You dipped your fingers into the river nearby, and sat there as the cold water than through your fingers, enjoying the silence and the peace. You heard footsteps crunching on the grass and branches behind you, as you turned around to see a young, relatively short man standing behind you with a giant hat.
The blue flowers softly illuminated his features, and you realized he seemed unhappy at something. You stood up and took a small blue illuminated flower, and looked at him. “Are you unhappy?” you asked bluntly.
The person scoffed. “No. I’m not. Who even are you? I’ve never met someone who just walks up to someone and asks if they're happy or not.”
“Oh me? I’m just a citizen of Inazuma who just happened to run into you. I frequent this area a lot to just test my skills and calm down,” you replied with a small smile. Walking up to him you took his hand and pressed the flower into it, ignoring the fact that he was looking at you incredulously. “And you should be glad that someone actually cares enough to ask you how you’re doing.”
“I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be thanking a stranger I don’t even know the name of?” Scaramouche shot back with an eye roll.
“Well, it’s [ Name ]!! So, now you know my name. Perfect, right?”
“Yeah yeah. Whatever.” he said, and although his wording was sharp, his tone was softer than what it was earlier. “…I’m Scaramouche, by the way.”
He looks like he needs a hug.
-----
Scaramouche looked back at the spot you talked with him a few days ago. He didn’t know why he was back here; he didn’t know why he wanted to see you again. Something about this brazen first meeting… drew him to you. He didn’t know why he wanted to talk to you, why he wanted to tell you about him.
But you did listen to him. You did, for some absurd reason… you cared about him, despite only meeting him a single time.
It felt… really nice to be cared about, after so much suffering.
Scaramouche liked this feeling. And he hated the fact that he liked it.
-----
“My mother… creator… decided to abandon me.” Scaramouche looked at the moon reflected in the river as he told you about his past. “So I decided, screw it. Who cares anymore? So I said good riddance… and that’s why I joined the fatui and became a harbinger and became a harbinger. Or, more accurately, they seeked me and I decided to join them.”
“You’re a fatui harbinger?” You said, incredulously, looking at him in shock.
“Yeah. Hate me if you’d like. I don’t care. I know I’m a terrible person. But emotion has no use to me… so do as you please.”
You stared at him, and laughed. “Honestly, for a fatui harbinger, you haven’t done anything particularly bad to me or in front of me yet. I don’t know about you, but I think you deserve a chance. I know you’ve probably done some terrible things before, but that doesn’t change how I view you.”
“...”
“HA! GUESS YOU’VE NEVER HEARD THAT BEFORE!!”
“Although you’re this old already, you still act like a mere child. Shut up.”
You let out a clear laugh, that he could listen to forever. You took a small look at him and enveloped him in a light hug, as if you were scared of breaking him as a fragile doll. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”
Scaramouche felt the warmth of your feelings and how genuine you were seeping into him, even as he stared in shock. Eventually, he let his arms wrap around you, giving into his emotions for the first time, perhaps, in his life after his abandonment.
A tear, also warm, trailed down his cheek.
Huh? Scaramouche thought in a state of confusion. I’m…. crying? Doesn’t this mean I'm also controlled by human emotions? I already made peace with this already, though…
But if I get to spend another moment in your arms, I guess I’ll allow it.
You smiled, and realized just how much you truly appreciated-- no. What you felt wasn’t appreciation. This man, although a harbinger and a puppet, felt like something you could truly care about. He was shockingly human, although he tried to cover it up with thorns and spikes.
He spoke again, but you felt emotion overflowing in his words, one that felt like it held a multitude of emotions hid behind them, just waiting to be discovered.
“Thank you. For being here.”
“You’re welcome.”
Archons, if Childe knew about this, he’d tease him to hell and back.
But Scaramouche didn’t care.
He loved you.
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REBLOGS HELP MORE THAN LIKES
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tmnt-narratives · 4 months
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𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 . . . 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑
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As you made your way to the kitchen. It seemed you were right. Mikey was in the kitchen. Not cooking this time though, he had all sorts of plants and pots on the ground.
Being the curious gremlin you were, you announced yourself in a dramatic way.
"Mikeeeey.!!! Your favorite sibling is here.!!" You threw your hands in the air in a childish manner, expecting some sort of praise.
But no. You got no praise. Just a..
"I'm busy at the moment, (Name).." Mikey was moving plants left and right, while opening drawers to pick out seeds in packages.
"You have anything for me to do.??"
"No, not at the moment. I'm busy." Mikey repeated in a more serious tone, you've heard this tone before. It was whenever he used his weird therapist persona.
His persona scared the whole family except you, since he usually used this tone whenever you weren't listening or you didn't want to eat any food.
"Can I explore.???" You asked, not specifying anything. You really hoped your trick worked, although it had a big chance it wouldn't.
You were one of those kids who asked their moms or dad a question, not specifying what it was hoping they would say yes. So you could do whatever you wanted and blame it on the parents, since they said yes.
"Explore where Pequeña hermana/Pequeño hermano.??" Leo came into the room with a few more boxes with plant seeds.
"Ya know.. The sewers.??" You spoke slowly and clearly, your plan now had a VERY large chance of failing.
"You ask Raph or dad.??" Mikey's suspicions were starting to raise. While Leo knew exactly what you were trying to pull.
"Yeah..??"
"And they said no, right.??"
"Yeah.."
"Then we can't allow you to go. Sorry (Name)."
"Can I at least explore the areas I know of.??"
Leo and Mikey paused to look at eachother. Then look at you again.
"Don't tell anyone else about this. M'kay.??"
"Yeah, we'd get in a lot of trouble if you told on us."
"Don't be late for dinner.!"
"I got it.! I won't be late.!" You ran as fast you could, you were finally going to get some excitement around here in this boring lair.
Your two older brothers called out to you one last time while you ran to go put on your yellow raincoat and rain boots.
As you changed into your sleek yellow raincoat, and put on your nice yellow rainboots. You grabbed your yellow mask, and tied it around your head.
While walking out of your new and empty room, you saw a mirror. And you walked up to it.
"Helloo good lookin.!~" You winked at yourself in the mirror, and that's when you noticed a small door in the wall in the reflection of the mirror.
Being the curious little turtle you were, you turned around and walked up to the tiny door. You kneeled in front of it, and you tried to open it.
But you failed miserably, and you shrugged it off. You got up and walked over to the exit of the Lair to explore.
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You chuckled while finding random objects in the sewers, like magazines and rubber ducks. It was quite amusing to you that you were able to find such objects in a weird place.
Who would have known they had dog collars in the sewers.?? Or even a single headphone bud.??
While exploring and finding you couldn't help but feel like you were being watched by something. Every time you would turn around to check if something was there, there was nothing.
So you continued to walk around in the dark sewers waiting for your boredom to die faster.
You splashed in the nasty puddles of water, who was going to stop you.?? Definitely not your brothers. You had free will since you were alone again.
You liked being alone. Sure you loved your family, but they always left you behind. Never taking you on missions, it made you feel.. Different.
Not in a good way. In a way you weren't allowed to make decisions by your self kind of way. Your thoughts only got darker and darker until a certain..
"Mew.." Was heard from behind you.
You turned around quickly to see some sort of cat mutant thing. Like you. But you weren't happy to see the cat thingy..
"OH MY PIZZA SUPREME- Stupid cat mutant.!"
"Mew.."
"Don't you have anything better to do you stupid cat.?!?"
You threw your arms in the air, annoyed by the presence of the cat. You felt like you were being watched.. By who though.??
You turned around one last time, and saw nothing..
"Huh.. Weird." When you turned back around to face the cat and shoo it off. The cat was gone. And if you had eyebrows, you would definitely raise an eyebrow.
"Where did that dumb cat go.??'
Then you heard a yell from behind you.
"APRRILL O'NEILLL.!!!" Was all you could hear before you were tackled onto the ground by a masked figure.
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𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 . . .
tags : @aggressiveanon
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anarchywoofwoof · 6 months
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okay. so. as promised earlier this evening - a long personal post. including some stuff that i haven't ever shared with an audience before. this felt very much like catharsis, so feel free to skip and move on if you're not into childhood trauma stories.
about 2 and a half years ago, i was going through a pretty terrible shame spiral. this eventually lead me to getting back into therapy and finding my current therapist who under no uncertain terms contributed to the saving of my life. i was in crisis. that is when i was diagnosed with ADHD, as well as PTSD & Bipolar.
the ADHD i had always suspected but was never tested as a kid growing up in the mid-90's and as an adult, i knew getting an ADHD diagnosis probably wouldn't be easy, so i avoided it until it became too much for me to bear as an adult trying to survive on his own for the first time - my partner had recently moved out (for the first time) and i was falling to pieces.
the PTSD on the other hand is a combination of things, chief among them, my childhood. i can remember my parents fighting as long as i've had memories. my dad was an explosive, angry, bitter, depressed and traumatized old man. my mom was a volatile, angry, abusive and traumatized middle-aged woman with a cripplingp pill/xanax addiction (100+ a month)
in addition to this, i also underwent sexual trauma at a young age from one of my mother's closest friends' daughter. she stopped speaking to her mother for 3 years before continuing again. i never received any therapy or counseling.
growing up in a working class household, i dreaded the weekends because that was the one time they would be together under the same roof. and without failure, that meant a fight.
when i say fight, it manifested itself in a lot of different ways. on separate occasions i witnessed or was involved in:
my mom punching a wall and breaking her wrist
my mom and dad having nose-to-nose screaming matches
my mom and dad get into physical altercations that lead to coffee being spilled on each other
my mom throwing various household electronics or smashing them against tables or surfaces
lots of door slamming, storming out, speeding off into the night, swearing she's not coming back, packing her bags, calling him names, saying i hate you, etc.
my dad saying hurtful, heartless things just to get back at my mom just a little bit
my mom screaming in my face or allowing me to be her "therapist" in their relationship
the list really goes on and on and on.
for many years, i rarely went back home after i moved out. i didn't really talk to my parents all that much. when my dad got sick, one time after a particularly bleak doctor's visit, my mom showed up at my house unannounced and came in my front door, down my hallway into my room while i was working and began slapping and hitting me for "not being over to see my dad more often."
it was the one and only time i've ever called the police on someone in my life. it was my own mom. although she was my best friend growing up, my dad being sick had broken her. she wasn't fit to be dealing with a cancer-stricken man and my aunt showed up to help her.
time goes on and my dad passes away. my mom makes the decision to allow my childhood home to go into foreclosure and move back home to indiana where her family lives. i have no family here; none whatsoever, all estranged due to various conflicts. when she left, she also left all of my childhood toys in the basement to be eventually end up in a landfill somewhere.
as a kid, my mom hit me twice; once when i said something foul about the neighbor girl. the other time, she lured me in the house with false happy greetings and once i was in the door, kicked me in the butt and told me to go clean the hardened play doh that she bought off the floor of my room.
when i told my mom i was going to therapy for the first time when my dad was still alive, her first reaction was "you don't need therapy, you had a good childhood."
when i was going through a hard time recently feeling like i wasn't a priority to anyone in my life, my mom got mad because i hadn't spoken to her in 3 weeks and told me via text message that she was "sorry for the way that i grew up to be." i stopped speaking to her after that.
3 months later, both of my partners broke up with me within 24 hours. my long-term partner of 8 years sprung on me that she was moving home to Oklahoma… while in Oklahoma… and subsequently secured a new partner
i didn't speak to my mom again for several months until the beginning of July. when we spoke i mentioned that i'd be going out of town at the end of the month and i'd greatly appreciate if she came to housesit for me and perhaps spent some time visiting when i returned. i needed someone to watch my dogs. she agreed. three weeks before i was supposed to leave, she informed me that it would likely be "too much" for her to handle.
feeling burnt and without reason to engage again, i stopped speaking to her once more. she would send hollow text messages with gifs or some placeholder statements or i love yous. i never responded. until yesterday, when i finally answered, exasperated.
this lead to a several hour long conversation where she claimed that my memories of being smacked or kicked are false and never happened, attributable to the weed i've smoked over the years. there were so many things said, none of them helpful, none of them aided me in healing, none of them giving me any closure. only vapid wishes that "things could have been different" and refusals to "apologize for something i don't remember doing." and of course, self degradation and woe-is-me behavior followed by:
"so where do we go from here?"
and still yet, i am asked to be the one to find the answers to the mysteries of my own misfortunes.
all i've ever really wanted from the most important people in my life was to feel like someone cared about me in the way that i care about everyone and everything that i have ever thought about. to be prioritized. to be secure and safe in my love and affection from another. to be put first, to be meaningfully considered.
all i've ever really wanted is to not have to be the one to figure it out on someone else's behalf. i don't want to have to tell you where we go from here. i don't want to have to explain to you what the terms and conditions of loving me are. i don't want to have to beg for someone to do for me what i have done for so many others; provide just a surface level of care and comfort that anyone could demand and be considered reasonable. i want to feel like i am not the sum of my accomplishments, but that what i have accomplished stands testament to how much i am willing to give to the things and people that i care about.
i am tired of having to be resilient and light the path for people toward an endpoint of self awareness. it's simply not my responsibility. i can feel my personality shifting underneath it all. i can feel each lesson absorbing into my brain, sucking up the do's and don'ts and depositing them somewhere deep inside for reference another time. and personal growth and development is great and wonderful and amazing, yeah, i am the goddamn Johann Goethe of Emotional Intelligence.
but what i want? what i really want? i just want to lay my head in someone's lap and have them pet me and tell me for once that everything is gonna be okay. and that i don't have to think about it right now, because all that exists is the moment we're sharing. and that i am the only object in their orbit.
this post probably doesn't have a nice and tidy ending like i envisioned when i started rambling a long time ago. but here's what i will leave you with.
the idea that "you cannot pour from an empty cup" may very well sound like a cliche spouted by the mouths of neurotypicals rife with the mental acuity to function executively in such a way, but it is not. it is incredibly hard to give back to the world what you have not been given and at some point, that balance is going to tip in the direction of your own needs and wants. it's important to recognize it sooner than later, or you'll end up feeling the need to beg someone, anyone to love you the way that you need so badly.
and that is simply something that i refuse to do.
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Text
For those that asked what happened, our back deck collapsed on 9/7, when hubby and our 100 lb german shepherd Justice stepped onto it, and they both fell 10-12 feet to bricks down below.
Hubby had one shoulder dislocated that wasn't put in fully at the emergency room and two completely torn rotator cuffs.
Justice landed on hubby, so he's fine.
Hubby hasn't been able to work since the accident.
I lost my job because he needed me to be home to dress him, walk the dog, bring him to doctor and physical therapy visits and mri tests.
I wasn't fired per se. Just told I was letting everyone down and expected to be in to work the day after the accident. I have doctor notes to be home with hubby, but I'm not going to stay where my own boss can not fathom how falling from 10-12 feet is as violent as being in a vehicle accident.
I do have another part time job our realtor friend offered me, but there's hardly any work at this time of year.
We rent the house from my cousin's wife. Even though she is still living, she gave up any say, when they put all their properties in a trust, and made her son inlaw the executor.
October 14th, there is a texted conversation between hubby and the executor.
They also had a verbal conversation on the phone, to not worry about anything and we'll see what the doctor says moving forward.
November 3rd, we received notice to evict the premises by December 1st. There was never any hint or discussion of this.
The executor states it's going to cost 100k to renovate the property and wants it condemned.
A nephew to the landlord says that isn't so and he's in the family construction business.
We had our town's historical preservation sociey out here to see the house which was built in 1698, and they also do not think it's condemnable.
The executor will be one of those benefiting when the cousin's wife passes away, and doesn't want to put a dime into the property, just collected the rent.
The deck was not built to code, and the executor never maintained the deck.
We painted all the decks, twice since we lived here, but he never made sure there was flashing where the deck met the house and the wood rotted there, causing the collapse.
Hubby has a personal injury lawyer, who also has an attorney in his office handling the eviction part.
Hubby has ptsd, anxiety and feels as though the floor is moving. His medications make him nauseous, so he has changed doctors and hopes he has better luck with the new one in a few weeks.
We are waiting on approval for a therapist for his anxiety which has worsened since the eviction notice. The therapist would be free through the USPS, but they have to approve the therapist rates first.
Both our vehicles needed repairs, my vehicle repair was $398, hubby's $888.
We set up a gofundme which was a Godsend because we were able to pay for those repairs.
I received notice my vehicle may be repossessed because we are going on 3 months past due in a couple of weeks, that is why we are selling our personal items.
I told hubby we may have to just let the vehicle go, but once he gets a settlement, we'd have to pay for the vehicle we no longer own.
It's easy to say sue for damages, but we will not see any money until a judgement is made by the courts as to how much and for how long this injury will impact hubby's life.
This is a long way off, because hubby is only in the beginning stages of rehabilitation.
So, we are selling as many of our things that we can. Some are things that have been in the family. Some family members want us to ask other family members to just store these items to keep in the family, but we are in dire straits and need the money.
It breaks my heart to let some of these items go, but things can be replaced.
It will be extremely difficult to find anywhere to live with both a German Shepherd and a cat, and one of us is incapacitated.
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lisbeth-kk · 11 months
Text
May 9 prompt: home
Thanks for the tag @notjustamumj
Finding purpose
John’s lived many places due to his fatber’s military career. As a child it was sometimes devastating. Once a friendship had formed, they were always forced to move again. Harry made a fuss every time, driving their mother to despair and their father to fury. John decided early on to take another approach. When the date of depature was set, John was particularly fierce and aggressive at the rugby field, and came home looking ragged, but satisfied as if he’d won a battle.
The only place John felt quite familiar with was his birth place, London. He didn’t remember anything from the first two years he lived there of course, but they’ve lived near the city a few times since then. He’d always felt drawn to the city for some reason, although he knew no one there. Learning his lesson to try to form friendships during his childhood, he kept his distance through medical school. He dated, but it was never serious on his part. If he’d left some broken hearts behind, he wasn’t aware.
Reaching captain’s position in the army, John could keep distant even more effectively. He was the men’s superior officer, and it was frowned upon to make friends with his men. The years as a soldier and doctor were his best years thus far. He’d found a purpose, and he was bloody good at what he was doing.
And then John’s world collapsed. He was shot, and for a long while it was all pain, agony and despair. He felt alone and abandoned, and when he was sent back to England, his bland bedsit did nothing to improve his mood. His only comfort was his gun, which turned more appealing for each day that passed. Something unknown made him hesitate, though. A feeling that there would be an end to this depressive time in his life.
The day when John Watson’s life changed, was just an ordinary one. He’d told his therapist that nothing ever happened to him, and, no, he didn’t have the urge to write about this miserable life, thank you very much!
John was pleasantly surprised when Mike called his name on his way through the park. He’d always considered Mike a nice bloke, and John knew he himself was to blame for the loss of contact.
Meeting Sherlock Holmes was something John never could’ve envisioned. Instead of greeting him, the enigmatic man asked him a question John was totally unprepared for.
«Afghanistan or Iraq?»
From that moment, John knew he’d found what, or rather who he’d been looking for all his life. This man rescued him from a life of boredom or suicide, and in return John saved Sherlock’s life from that dreadful cabby the very next day.
***
«You, alright?» the familiar baritone murmurs.
John kisses Sherlock’s shoulder and nuzzles closer.
«Yeah, I was just thinking of how you saved me that day at Bart’s,» John says softly.
«I found a proper home the day I walked into this flat, for the first time in my life. But now the flat doesn’t really matter,» John concludes.
«What do you mean, John?» Sherlock asks in a puzzled tone.
John rises his head from Sherlock’s chest and looks down on his face, stroking a finger over a cheekbone.
«Because now, my precious, home is where you are.»
The amount of writing I get done as a passenger is quite satisfying.
@totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @raina-at @topsyturvy-turtely @meetinginsamarra
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