#self-doubt

[whumpshaped]

whumptober 12

prompt list masterlist

tw abandonment, past trauma, rocky recovery, self-doubt, self-worth issues

"I'm up, I'm up!" Whumpee tried to sound convincing as they attempted to put on a shirt in their half-asleep state, very eager to prove that they were still part of the team. "Where are we off to? What happened?"

Their teammates were rushing in and out of the room as they were getting ready, sparing them no more than a few nervous glances; Whumpee was starting to think no one was even going to answer them. It was Caretaker who eventually walked over to their bed and placed a hand on their shoulder, looking apologetic.

"Whumpee, uh... I appreciate the enthusiasm. We all do..." Whumpee's chest was beginning to feel a little tight at the tone, but they straightened their back and feigned nonchalance. If only straightening their back hurt a little less, maybe they would've looked more unbothered. "But I don't think you should come with us on this quest. You're basically still recovering."

"I'm not! I'm as fine as I'm ever gonna be! Is this about me needing a cane now? I won't slow you down!" They sounded desperate, even to their own ears. They hated it. But they hated the notion of being left behind even more.

"No, listen... Listen to me. We've worked alongside each other for decades, you know you can trust me. So please, trust me when I say this isn't the quest for you."

Whumpee opened their mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Their facade was crumbling at a rapid speed. "It is about the state my body's in, isn't it? Don't lie, please. Not you. We– we all know I'm not in recovery. We all know this isn't gonna get any better. Is this it for me? Am I not–" Their voice broke, and they couldn't ignore the tears shining in their friend's eyes either. "Am I not of any use anymore? Will I never go on a quest with you again?"

Caretaker carefully sat down on the bed next to them, then took a slow, deep breath. "You're right," they said eventually, and it looked as though the words hurt them just as much as they hurt Whumpee. "We've been dancing around this entire topic because... because you're such an integral part of the team. We couldn't imagine the team without you. We told ourselves you would get better, and everything would go back to normal." Caretaker cleared their throat, probably looking for the right words to let them down.

"It doesn't have to go back to normal," Whumpee tried. "I'm telling you, I can handle myself. I can– I can do just as much as any of the newbies–"

"Whumpee..."

They sighed, the last of their hope leaving them on the exhale. Right. They were being ridiculous. "I get it," they said quietly. "Thanks for being honest with me. It's... certainly better than leading me on." They wiped away a tear, trying to keep it together for just a few more minutes. "I'll get out of here as soon as I can find a place for myself."

Caretaker's eyes widened. "Get out? Whumpee–"

"I don't want to be a fucking burden. You should already be on your way with the rest of the team, and yet here you are consoling me."

"No, no, Whumpee..." Caretaker took their hand in their own, looking into their eyes with sincerity they hadn't experienced in months. "The team and I have decided that it's best for you to stay out of quests, yes. I'm sorry that none of us was brave enough to tell you that directly. But Whumpee, look around– we're full of new members. New members who would be honoured to learn from you. We thought... we thought it'd be incredible if you could teach the newer generation everything you've learned."

Whumpee blinked, confused and speechless. "Me? Teaching..?"

Caretaker nodded. "Only if you want to, of course. But make no mistake — nobody wants you to leave. You're family, Whumpee. You're so amazing at what you do. And, well..." They chuckled, shrugging a little. "I'm not young anymore either. This is likely my last quest. After this, we could... we could start properly training the newer guys.

Together."

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps

#zi's whumptober scribbles #whump #whump drabble #abandonment #past trauma #rocky recovery #self-doubt #self-worth issues #recovery fic

[wangxianficrecs]

Longing (reprise) by ilip13

Longing (reprise)

by ilip13 (@ilip13)

T, 3k, Wangxian

Summary: Finally he cannot take it anymore. "Well, we should get going, either way!" Whatever transpired between them, the day is burning away. "Do you remember Guanyin Temple, Lan Zhan? Even if you don’t, we must get there as soon as possible." He expects a fight. Maybe Lan Zhan only remembers as far as their search after Nie Mingjue’s body parts. Lan Zhan thinks they’re in the middle of some night hunt, so — "I do remember Guanyin Temple," Lan Wangji says slowly. He reaches out as if to touch Wei Wuxian’s face, and then his hand falls away. "Do you?" * Wei Wuxian wakes up the morning after the bathtub incident. (Or is it?) Kay's comments: This story provided the soothing and healing I didn't know my heart needed. It gives Wei Wuxian the chance to finish his confession after Wangxian's first time at the inn in Yunping and I love that for everyone involed and most definitely my heart because the aftermath of the bathtub scene always hurts so good and as much as I love Wangxian's public confession in a moment of desperation, sometimes I wish they could have gotten something private like this as well. Excerpt: "You…" Wei Wuxian flounders, at a loss for words. He feels small, small and exposed, except Lan Wangji chooses to toy with him instead of mete out the proper punishment that Wei Wuxian deserves. Well. Wei Wuxian does not intend to embarrass himself further by recounting all the reasons Lan Wangji should be displeased with him. He crosses his arms and huffs. "Nothing happened. Pay it no mind. I’ll just get dressed and we can go." If anyone is playing games here then it is Lan Zhan, and Wei Wuxian is in no mood to participate. There’s a painful stab in his heart when he recalls Lan Zhan playing around last night. His joy at being praised by Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian swallows past the lump in his throat. It does not help with the ache in his chest. There is a blur of movement, and then Lan Wangji’s arms are wrapped around him. A gentle kiss pressed to his forehead. Wei Wuxian struggles to be freed; Lan Wangji holds him closer. "Don’t touch me, Lan Zhan," he hisses. Lan Wangji ignores him. The nerve of him.

pov wei wuxian, post-canon, memory loss established relationship, fix-it of sorts, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft lan wangji/wei wuxian, self-doubt, love confessions

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

#Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #Wangxian #MDZS #Kay's Rec #February 2024 #Teen #short fic <15k #ilip13 #Longing (reprise) #pov wei wuxian #post-canon #memory loss established relationship #fix-it of sorts #emotional hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #soft lan wangji/wei wuxian #self-doubt #love confessions

[dk-thrive]

The sea can do craziness, it can do smooth, it can lie down like silk breathing or toss havoc shoreward; it can give gifts and withhold all; it can rise, ebb, froth like an incoming frenzy of fountains, or it can sweet-talk entirely. As I can too, and so, no doubt, can you, and you.

— Mary Oliver, "A Thousand Mornings" in "A Thousand Mornings: Poems (Penguin Books; September 24, 2013)

#Mary Oliver #sea #ocean #rise #ebb #doubt #self-doubt #confidence #self-love #anxious #anxiety

[the-healing-mindset]

This is great.

Source: Charlotte Freeman

#life #living #keep going #strength #progress #opportunity #resilience #pride #growth #healing #recovery #inspiration #encouraging words #determination #self-doubt #self-image #self-esteem #self-help #self-love #encouragement #inspiring #Charlotte Freeman #freedom #emotions #feelings

[stoicmike]

Just because what you are saying is obviously the case does not mean that everyone, or even anyone, will agree with you. -- Michael Lipsey

#madness #facts #obvious #reality #contradiction #argumentative #disputatious #self-doubt

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

#replaceable #disposable #impermanent #insecurity #jobsecurity #fearoffailure #competition #perfectionism #anxiety #stress #burnout #self-doubt

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Reese vs Natali: Duel to the Death (Magican's Bait, Part 5)

WoW Birthday Whump Day 12: Magic Exhaustion / Collapsed / "So tired..."

Whumpril Day 4 (Swaying) Day 9 (Self-doubt), Day 26 (“How could you?”)

WoW Birthday Event Prompts List

Whumpril Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

first part | <- previous part | next part (coming soon) ->

TW: duel, knife wounds, magic whump, death, blood, blood loss, dizziness, collapse, fainting

Context: Reese duels Natali. The Stalker may have runes on her side, but Reese has a hidden ace up her sleeve that might win her the day. But at what cost?

Reese didn’t give Natali time to react to the—admittedly very shocking—news that she was not, in fact, Caiya Ebony. She closed the distance between them in three leaping strides and went on the offensive, going for the Stalker’s throat.

Natali ducked backward, her self-satisfied expression wiped from her face. She fumbled with her knives and barely managed to draw one before Reese drove her own blade into Natali’s shoulder.

She screamed in pain and fury, weapon falling from numb fingers as the injured arm went limp. Her other hand went for the second knife, and she swung out, trying to catch Reese in the side.

Reese yanked out her knife and twisted away. Natali’s blade sliced through the fabric of her jacket and left a shallow scratch, but it was better than the alternative. Reese hissed out through her teeth and retreated, allowing the Stalker to make the next move.

Blood streamed down Natali’s arm, and her eyes burned with rage. “You’ll regret that, child,” she hissed. Before Reese could react, the Stalker spoke a rune.

The wind stirred around Reese, lightly toying with her hair, but nothing else happened. Reese grinned at Natali’s shocked expression. “Was that supposed to impress me? You’re gonna have to try harder than that!”

“How?!” The Stalker screeched, repeating the rune as Reese charged at her again. She retreated, going on the defensive as Reese chased her around the room.

Reese didn’t have the energy to spare for an answer. She lunged, knife point intent on Natali’s heart, but Natali knocked aside the blade. Natali tried to counterattack, but Reese blocked the thrust and used her free hand to grab Natali’s wrist.

The Stalker’s eyes were filled with pain, fear, and desperation. She spoke another rune, one Reese recognized all too well. The familiar weight settled on Reese’s chest, and she faltered, struggling to breathe. Natali seized the opportunity and kicked Reese in the stomach with rune-enhanced strength.

The force of the kick threw Reese halfway across the room. Time seemed to briefly slow as the ground came up to meet her. The impact sent fireworks through Reese’s shoulder and back, and she rolled another few meters before stopping. Her knife clattered to the ground, out of reach.

Natali staggered across the room, swaying from blood loss or rune exhaustion. Possibly both. Reese pulled herself to her feet and raised her fists. The closeness of the pit where she’d accidentally tossed Caiya’s cowl unnerved her, and the hairs on her neck prickled.

Natali still had her dagger, but she was wounded. Even hand-to-hand, Reese had the upper hand. Didn’t she?

“I don’t know the extent of your protection, little magician,” Natali hissed, knife raised. She was only a few steps away now. “You may have put up a good fight. But you’re finished, now. Yield, and I’ll let the prince go.”

“Liar,” Reese spat, “and you’re right. You don’t know the extent of my protection. But you’re also wrong. I’m no magician.”

With those words, Reese lunged, ducking under Natali’s swing and diving for her legs, tackling the Stalker to the ground. Pain erupted in her lower back, causing her to cry out, but Reese pressed on, punching Natali in the throat.

Natali gagged and let go of the knife. Reese didn’t hesitate, yanking the weapon out of her back and driving it in between the Stalker’s ribs into her heart. Natali’s eyes widened in shock, and she sagged. Reese didn’t release her hold on the knife until her breathing slowed… slowed… stopped.

Reese exhaled shakily and rose to her feet, retrieving her own knife from the ground. She left Natali’s knife where it was. Head swimming, she staggered across the room to the prince, who stared mutely at the Stalker’s corpse. Reese sliced through his bonds, a simple matter with the rune-engraved knife, and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled on legs weakened during his imprisonment, and they supported each other as they crossed the room to the tunnel where she’d entered.

“How…” Damian whispered when they entered the tunnel, “how could you? How could you resist her runes?”

“It’s simple, really,” Reese muttered, trying to ignore how the floor pitched and heaved beneath their unsteady feet. “I’m a Draigo.”

Damian froze midstep, and Reese nearly tripped over his feet. “A Draigo?! But I thought they were all—”

“Not all of them, your Highness. Just most of them.” She tugged his arm, and he started walking—or, more accurately, lurching—down the tunnel again.

“...so that’s why you’re here,” he mused, “instead of Caiya Ebony.”

“Caiya Ebony is a coward. I’m here because a friend asked me to.” Each step was like another knife in the wound in her back. Was she supporting Damian, or was Damian supporting her? They needed to get out of here.

“Ah.” Silence stretched between them for several steps before the prince spoke again. “Was it the Watcher?”

Reese nodded wordlessly. Was the tunnel getting darker?

“You said your name was Reese Takari, right? Like the diplomat?”

“I’m…” Reese mumbled, “I’m his daughter…. We should be… getting… close….”

Damian paused, concern evident. “Are you alright? Reese?”

The tunnel seemed to blur, and a strange numbness settled over her, like when her limbs fell asleep after sitting on them for too long. She didn’t have time to respond before her legs buckled under her weight.

But she didn’t hit the floor. “Reese? Reese!”

Damian’s voice sounded far away like he was at the other end of the tunnel. Reese wanted to respond, but darkness flooded over her, sending her into the depths of oblivion.

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @whumpril

(if you want to be tagged in my writing please lmk!)

#my writing #whump writing #magician's bait #reese takari #damian of caenum #natali tallis #wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump [day 12] #magic exhaustion #collapsed #whumprilday4 #whumprilday9 #whumprilday26 #swaying #self-doubt #“How could you?” #duel #knife wounds #magic whump #death #blood loss #dizziness #collapse #fainting #blood #passing out #stabbed #tied up #whump #tales from valaria

[betweenthetimeandsound]

--prompt from @nosebleedclub "ophanim" (18 February)

A thousand eyes keeping watch over the divine, while only one of yours is unclouded and could see through the streetlamps.

Sodium is better used for salt, but its so cold, and in your hands, it only floats in a frigid wind.

How could you dream of spring, when the wool on your hands frays, and you're your only betrayer? --Elda Mengisto

#poetry #my poetry #poets on tumblr #poetry on tumblr #ophanim #self-doubt #life #loneliness #twcpoetry #poeticstories

[themotherofrevelation]

Self-doubt magnetizes counterfeits.

#personal #divine feminine #sacred feminine #self-doubt

[goldenavenger02]

panic unfolding

Lloyd questions his teaching after one of his students gets injured. A could be sequel to my story Pillow Fights and Long Nights

The last hour had been pure chaos. 

Blood spilled over the stone ground of the monastery, screams of “Arin, stay awake” and “First Spinjitzu Master” echoed through the walls and after all of the panic and terror, it was just still. 

The emergency waiting room was crowded with Sora, Kai and Nya and in the middle of it was Lloyd, pacing up and down the same stretch of tile floor with bright splotches of blood covering his sleeves, sure to cause staining.

“I’m gonna go call Wyldfire, make sure that she’s cleaning things up.” Sora’s voice was a shell of itself, obviously using the excuse to go to the phone to keep herself busy, which made Lloyd’s stomach twist. 

One of his pupils was locked behind the off-white doors of the emergency entrance, surrounded by strangers and his other pupil was unable to let herself panic; all he could do was keep pacing, trying to let his nervous energy out before it manifested into destruction.

It had been months since he even attempted to call on the Oni that dwelled deep inside of him, but now it seemed like any slight movement out of line would bring the monster rushing back; he knew that he wouldn’t be blamed for it by his friends if it did happen, but with all the innocent people surrounding him, he knew he had to get himself to relax at least a little bit.

‘The sooner, the better.’

“Lloyd?” He looked up to see Kai’s face etched with concern as he gently rested his hand on his shoulder, “you’re going to put a hole in the floor. Sit down.”

“I can’t, I gotta get it out.”

“Hey, I know you’re antsy. Believe me, you’ve put me the wringer just like this, a lot,” Kai explained and Lloyd could see the flashes of the pediatric ward and Kai’s anxious face as he hovered over him, “but you freaking out isn’t going to help Arin, so you need to take a deep breath. Okay?

Lloyd was forced to stop pacing by the hold on his shoulder and do as he was told; wiping the few tears that began to fall down his face as he finally admitted what he had been feeling since the day he rescued Arin and Sora.

“I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”

He was pulled into a tight hug before he had even fully processed what he had said with one hand still on his shoulder and the other one on the back of his head. And with that gentle, careful movement, everything finally spilled over.

“Master Wu was counting on me to be better and I have no idea if I’m good at this or not. I just constantly feel like I’m screwing up.”

"I wish I had been here, Lloyd," Kai admitted, forcing Lloyd to pull his head from his shoulder, "I've been here too, and I could've helped."

"No, don't blame yourself. You were finding Nya, it's not your fault." Lloyd insisted as he was finally let out of the hug but Kai's warm hand still rested on his shoulder.

"You don't blame yourself either. What happened to Arin today wasn't on you."

Lloyd's breath shook as he nodded and sat down next to Kai in the chair, only getting back up to hug Sora when she returned from the phone.

"I'm fine," she insisted after the hug lasted for a few moments, "are you?"

Lloyd let go of her long enough to look back at Kai for a moment to recall all of the times that he had been in his current position before looking back at Sora and nodding.

"I will be."

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago: dragons rising #lloyd garmadon #kai (ninjago) #ninjago sora #ninjago arin #my writing #light angst #hurt/comfort #self-doubt #team as family

[whumpshaped]

Epilogue – Jonathan

Dollhouse Masterlist

tw aftermath of horrible trauma, talk of surgery the aftermath of it, mentions of drugs, rehab, suicidal tendencies, past implied noncon, rocky recovery, past lady whump with effects in the present, self-blame, self-doubt, mention of major character death within the family, parents sent to prison, it’s a lot but it’s happy i swear

Jonathan tried to balance all the boxes of food in one hand as he reached for the door handle with the other. He narrowly missed it, the door seemingly opening on its own; Honey stood in the doorway, quickly taking half the boxes with a concerned expression.

The transformation she’d made since last year still astounded him. Some of it was physical, readily apparent upon first glance, like slowly gaining back up to a healthy weight with the help of the family’s private dietitian, growing her hair out to be able to wear it in elaborate braids, and changing her wardrobe from custom doll clothes to jeans, sweatpants and T-shirts with smiling avocados on them. But for the most part, it was things like allowing herself to slouch a little, speaking “out of turn”, making decisions on her own… like officially changing her name to Honey after her escape and stay at the hospital. 

“You really shouldn’t strain your hands like that,” she said softly, the way she said most things. 

“They don’t really hurt anymore, really.” He pushed the door closed after himself with his foot, taking care to do it slowly instead of slamming it. “Thank you.”

“Well, you don’t need to make them hurt again. Plus, you’re gonna drop them one day. It’s an accident waiting to happen.”

He sighed, placing the boxes on the kitchen table. “I’m sorry. I’ll make two trips next time.”

Honey put the rest of the boxes next to those ones. “No, it’s… I don’t know. I didn’t mean to scold you. Sorry. I just… I’ve been feeling weird lately.”

Jonathan gave her a look of genuine empathy. Their situations weren’t the same, but unfortunately, they both had some trauma relating to the coming days. “The anniversary?”

She nodded. “Sorry. I know– It’s not the same. She was your sister. I shouldn’t be wallowing so much, I just… And not even just your sister–”

He shook his head. “Don’t do that to yourself. It’s difficult for all of us. Don’t– don’t try to go through it alone.” He spread his arms a little, allowing her to step closer and nuzzle against his chest. He wrapped her up in a tight hug, letting the words sink in for a moment. “You can feel things, yeah? And you can tell me about them. And you can cry, and be angry, and be anxious. I’m here for you, okay?” 

She didn’t respond right away. He knew she was mulling it over, trying to actually take in the meaning of the words instead of giving a manufactured reaction. “I’m here for you, too,” she said eventually, and Jonathan knew she meant it. She had been there for him throughout all of this, despite her own struggles. They’d been there for each other.

“Let’s call the others, yeah?” 

Seeing the dolls improve as they did was beyond Jonathan’s wildest dreams. Sure, he knew that their family fortune would be able to pay for a lot of procedures and therapy, but he didn’t think he would have access to that fortune after Grace’s passing. The fact that his father stepped up and ensured that everyone who was willing to accept the help would be taken care of was absolutely fantastic. Jonathan had never felt so much love for him before, and especially since they’d had that talk about Grace.

As it turned out, his mother was the one forcing him to play along. With Grace’s death, he realised he couldn’t do it anymore, and did what he could to remedy the whole decade of inaction. The truth came out bit by bit, starting with the events of that fateful day, but his father made sure that all the victims were set up with the best legal teams. When it came to his own family, he was as truthful as he could be, incriminating both his wife and himself in the process. He never protested the decision of the court. 

Jonathan had inherited the company, and he immediately dismantled it from top to bottom. He started a smaller business with part of the leftover money, spending the rest on the recovery process. Not all the dolls had decided to come live with him, of course. Some of them completely cut ties with him, and he had no idea whether they’d managed to get back on their feet. But the ones that were living with him? He was so fucking proud of each and every one of them.

The doctors at the hospital had managed to fix all of Dottie’s prosthetics almost completely. She had also received a considerable upgrade; she was now able to walk on her own and learning to use her hands again. Jonathan sat with her for hours upon hours, practising sign language together to make up for her severed vocal cords, helping her bend her artificial wrists and fingers this way and that. Her face wasn’t frozen in that one acceptable expression anymore either. She frowned, and she grimaced, and she cried, and she grinned with mischief and genuine delight. She had so much personality all bottled up, that much was clear even without being able to express herself perfectly. Even though she kept the name Grace had given her, she couldn’t have been any more different than the doll Jonathan had met.

Basil, now Nix, was under medical supervision for months regarding their several and serious addictions. The withdrawal symptoms were intense and at times terrifying, and Jonathan thought multiple times that he was going to lose them. He hadn’t known them for long at that point, but he knew that no human deserved to have to go through something like that, and it was pretty clear that they were doing their absolute best to come out on the other side. And eventually, they did, coming home with five bottles of different medication to keep them stable, but alive, and announcing the name change. “It’s short for Phoenix. I mean, if those weren’t the ashes, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve risen from,” they’d said with a laugh. “Besides… I kinda feel like I’m nothing without the– the whole persona. So… Nix.”

Toxicant-induced loss of tolerance wasn’t something Jonathan had ever heard of before talking to Nix’s doctors at the clinic. It wasn’t surprising, given that Grace had been pumping them full of chemicals for several consecutive years, day in and day out, but the effects were absolutely horrifying. It was like they were allergic to everything now. Cutting out everyday stimulants like caffeine wasn’t even the issue, really, it was trying to cut out things like food colouring; especially when that stuff was put into medications. And whenever Jonathan had made a mistake regarding their diet? Nix was punished with days upon days of heart palpitations, night sweats and vomiting. Their diet had slowly taken shape over the past half a year, and they were able to enjoy family dinners with the rest of them now.

The twins refused to part with either Dottie or Nix; the four of them were inseparable. They both had to go to vocal coaches to get their voice back in working order after close to eight years of forced silence, and they also had their gastrostomy tubes removed. They had been at risk of refeeding syndrome, like most of the dolls, but after clearing that obstacle and being allowed to eat freely, their symptoms of malnutrition subsided, even reversed. They went the opposite way in clothing stores now, making sure they looked as different as possible. Muffin went by Lux now, the name they’d originally wanted to change their birth name to before they got snatched up by Grace. They’d had their hair buzzed and several tattoos made before moving onto piercings, moulding their body into something they thought was furthest from a doll. Berry went back to his given name, Devante, exclaiming that his mother had already known he’d have to fight for his own justice against others’ horrible wrongdoings. 

Despite that sentiment, his mother never got to hear about it. Dottie, Nix, Dev and Lux had all decided not to contact their parents. They had been gone for way too many years. They had read their own obituaries, saw their family’s posts on social media about their passing on every single anniversary of their “death”. They had agreed it would’ve been too much to just come back after half a decade or more.

“I don’t want my mom to see me like this,” Dottie had told him. “I can’t even go back to the name she’d given me. I feel like the ship of Theseus. I want her to remember the old me.”

If anything, Jonathan could at least relate to losing a mother who was still alive, and he did everything in his power to make it better for everyone around him. 

Honey did contact her family after a few months, when she felt like she was ready. Jonathan held her hand throughout the phone call. He listened to her father ask whether there was a lawsuit, and whether she’d gotten any money from it. He listened to her mother say that they’d sold all her things already, so she didn’t have to go home. When Honey asked if they could meet anyway, she told her she was busy, and hung up the phone. He’d spent the next weeks consoling her.

As Jonathan watched them all take their seats at the kitchen table, he wondered what could’ve become of all these people, had he called Grace in advance about his visit that day. She would’ve told him it wasn’t a good day, and they would’ve rescheduled. All these amazing people could’ve been lost. All this laughter could’ve stayed a fantasy of their captive mind.

The phone began ringing before Jonathan could’ve had a single bite, and he sighed and put down his utensils. When he saw the number, however, he decided he wasn’t even annoyed anymore.

“Hey,” he said with a smile, despite Bora not being able to see it.

After being called Coral for several years, having his hair grown out and coloured to match the name, he decided he wanted to go back to his given name, chop it all off and dye it black. He’d gone into his kidnapping and captivity with a debilitating case of depression, and the therapy and medication he’d been able to receive since his rescue was beyond helpful.

“Hey, man. I just wanted to call, because… you know. Just wanted to check on you guys.” 

In all honesty, Jonathan expected a call from him sometime that day. Not even just because he was a good person, good people didn’t need to put their trauma aside to reconnect with others reminding them of said trauma. But the fact was, Bora had a lot of survivor’s guilt. Grace had never really done anything drastic to his body, nothing that couldn’t easily be reversed. His depression had been worsened by the situation, as anyone’s would’ve been, and he’d been forced to play along with a relationship he never wanted, but he had never gotten his limbs chopped off. He was working through the mental issues in therapy, and he was trying to live by the rule of not comparing his pain to others’, but every time he called, the overwhelming guilt was painfully obvious in his voice.

“I think we’re doing fine, considering, you know, everything. We’re all a bit out of it. It’s hard to think it’s only been one year… and at the same time it’s like, wow, it’s already been a year.”

“Yeah. I’m not… super excited for the articles tomorrow.”

“Would you like to come over? I don’t know if we’d necessarily take your mind off of it, but we all kind of formed a pact that none of us would look at social media for a while.” He lowered his voice, walking a little further away from the table. “And they’d love it, too. They’re always asking me whether you’ll come visit after your calls.”

There was no response from the other side, and for a moment, Jonathan thought he’d pushed it too far. But then he heard quiet sniffling, and Bora choked out, “I’ll drop by.”

“We all love you, okay? Don’t feel like you need to hide from us.”

Another pause. “Is Val coming?” 

Well, maybe he needed to hide from one person. After their time spent together in captivity, all that forced intimacy and shared trauma, it was understandable when Valerie drew a line in the sand about seeing each other. Her doll name, Anise, was way too close to her original name, Annie, so she decided to go the complete opposite direction and choose an entirely new one. That was around the same time when she told Bora she needed to get as far away from him as possible, in a desperate effort to distance herself from her past entirely. 

It was a difficult situation for everyone. After having her face surgically frozen at Grace’s house, Val wasn’t even able to communicate anything. Bora somehow ended up taking on the role of her helper, which Grace took full advantage of, but at least he was able to apologise, or ask things, or request things not to be done to him, whenever that was even an option. Valerie had her voice taken away, her sight, her facial expressions, everything. The doctors were able to do some reconstructive surgery, but she was told that seeing and speaking were completely off the table with the way her body adjusted. Learning sign language without being able to copy by sight proved to be a massive task, and Bora, as always, attempted to be as much help as he could be. Almost the first thing Val had told him was that she couldn’t handle his skin touching hers, or the sound of his voice, and she wanted to leave immediately. Bora had respected her wishes, as was the right thing to do.

Jonathan had spent the next few months almost constantly on call with him, and when the two of them weren’t talking, Bora was phoning the hotlines. Being riddled with guilt to the point of not wanting to live anymore was a common sentiment across the board when it came to their little patchwork family, but Bora was alone, and he refused to get any help that would’ve put him in direct contact with others. It was always just the phone, and always only Jonathan. He still had nightmares about the phone ringing and him not being able to reach it in time. 

“We haven’t talked in a good while,” Jonathan admitted. “I tried to send her a text earlier today to make sure she was doing okay, and it didn’t go through.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sure she’s okay, though. She just doesn’t want to talk about being okay with us specifically.”

The rest of the call went by quickly, and when Jonathan rejoined the rest of them for lunch, he found them all dead silent and clearly trying to eavesdrop. They didn’t even try to hide it.

“Is he coming, then?” Lux asked.

“He said he was, yeah.” They all looked at each other in utter delight, smiles spreading from one face to the other so quickly it was impossible to tell who started it. 

The next day, Jonathan immediately bumped into his sister on his morning walk. “One Year Has Passed Since Killer Barbie’s Funeral”, read the headline on the stupid magazine that was displayed at the newspaper stand, showing her eerily smiling face and pink casket. He had to turn around and go right back home, desperate for one of Honey’s sweet, warm hugs. 

“I didn’t break the rules,” he sobbed as quietly as he could. “It was– it was a newspaper, I just– I glanced in the direction of the stand–”

“I know.” She pet his hair gently, tears of her own slowly joining Jonathan’s in soaking their clothes. “I know. You don’t need to explain yourself.”

Jonathan’s morning breakdown set the tone for the entire day, and they all took turns hugging and holding each other while the other cried. Board games, tremendous amounts of snacks they could now enjoy freely, and a massive pity party took up the entire day of the anniversary; no tears remained unshed, and no one was left without several friends’ worth of consolation and compassion.

And when the sun rose again the next day and Jonathan turned over in his bed to see Honey sleeping soundly, he got the distinct feeling that it was all going to be okay. If they could survive one year despite all that had happened, they could survive a thousand.

~

taglist: @whumpsday @lonesome--hunter @reblogging-whump @panic-and-chaos @kim-poce @uwu-scraptrappy @mikaelaix @whumpinggrounds @hidden-dreamland @the-scrapegoat @whumplr-reader @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpinthepot @devourerofcheesecake

#dollhouse #whump #whump writing #aftermath of trauma #talk of surgery #drug mention #suicidal tendencies #past implied noncon #rocky recovery #past lady whump with effects in the present #self-blame #self-doubt #mention of major character death within the family #parents sent to prison #aftermath #comfort #aftermath of surgery #lady whump #recovery fic

[johbeil]

One afflicted by self-doubt

“I have the feeling I’m in a preparation phase. But I’ve been in that phase for years – too long. And preparing for what? What is the solution, Swami?” “You have to end this phase.” “But –“ “And that’s the end of this session,” said Swami Vaporananda. (Lore from the practice of Swami Vaporananda.)

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#absurd #coaching #deadpan #guru #Humor #nonsense #preparation #self-doubt #Swami Vaporananda #teachings

[dk-thrive]

like a spider yanking thread out of its own guts, or wherever the hell they pull it from

I crash into appalling bouts of self-doubt, revulsion at my past behaviour, loathing for my emotional habits and the fact that I still feel the need to expose, thinly disguised or barely metamorphosed, my own experience. In the metro this morning, on my way to the library, I felt grey and shrivelled, watching the tunnel lights slip past in their rhythm, wishing that I spoke French twice as well as I do and had a real job with people I didn't particularly like, so I wouldn't have to produce my own raison d'être every day, like a spider yanking thread out of its own guts, or wherever the hell they pull it from.

— Helen Garner, One Day I'll Remember This: Diaries 1987–1995 (Text Publishing Company, October 12, 2021)

#Helen Garner #doubt #self-doubt #write #writer #spider #create #self employed

[baubeautyandthegeek]

What Happened To Her - Jackie Sharp/Eliana Caspi/Heather Dunbar

A/N: Day 9 for @whumpril

Moments of self-doubt had always been something that Jackie understood but when Heather brings Eliana home she moves to pull Eliana close, stroking her hair softly even as Eliana sobs, her voice soft.     “What happened?”    “She got fired, for having a moment of self-doubt.”    Heather is tense and Jackie extends a hand to her quietly.    “C’mere...”    The murmur is soft, Heather crossing to join them and curl around both Jackie and Eliana. She can feel Eliana trembling between them and as her self-doubt fades, Eliana finally, finally relaxes.     “I’m so glad I have you both.”    The words are soft and honest, even as she settles into the comfort of her lovers.  

#heather dunbar #eliana caspi #jackie sharp #heather/eliana/jackie #house of cards #whumpril2024 #day 9 #self-doubt

[imaginedreamwrite]

Fat Funny Friend — you choose the character/profession

The old stylized lights that surround the mirror aid in reflecting your image and you stare at yourself on the surface while your hands rest on your lap. The mirror is high enough that you can see your body until the point where the reflective surface cuts off at your stomach, and a thought enters your mind that is toxic in itself.

You wonder if you had your face but the body of someone else if you would be considered worthy enough to be here. You let your mind wander to the slanderous draw of the surgeries and the procedures that are catered to and meant for people like you. The way that the advertisements are worded and produced has been made for girls and women who want to change everything about themselves.

You can still see the boldened words flashing in your mind, the brazen statements that knock you down while attempting to provide hope for other women like you who are fortunate enough to be friends with pretty people. The Fat Funny Friend is what they had labelled you despite knowing him since you were in diapers.

You are the plus-sized woman that followed him throughout childhood and into your teen years, encouraging him to become the heartthrob he is now. You were the poor soul he had taken pity on to spare your feelings. That is how they’ve spun the story, that’s how they’ve woven the web of lies that justify the pictures of you and him hanging out late at night.

The Fat Funny Friend and the breathtaking specimen that female models, actresses and musicians are lining up to date. The Fat Funny Friend who makes everyone wonder why he had kept you around even after he had gotten jobs and deals one after the other.

Their digs and barbs, the comments that have been made to your face by snideful and beautiful women had been like acid on your skin. They were bold and brazen, they were unapologetic even when he had come to your defence.

Even when he had called you beautiful and gorgeous, even when he had kept himself close to you because of your friendship and the years that followed you, they had denied there was anything more than pity.

No one your size, no one worthy of his time, could look like you.

The Fat Funny friend had been your staple within the circles he was now a part of. They wanted you to be a memory of the past, they wanted him to completely lose you for the sake of a relationship more worth his status.

All the pictures, all the memories of you spending hours talking late at night had been mocked.

Every picture that been dug up from the past, had been criticized.

If they had seen you out together and you were enjoying any minuscule morsel of food, it was questioned and you were scathingly torn apart.

If they had seen him out with a friend, or a coworker, eating anything that you would’ve, they were praised for enjoying themselves.

The lights had flickered, dimmed once and then twice, a sign that he had only a few minutes to get where he needed to be. You sat where you were and watched in the reflection as the door opened and he stepped out wearing what they had picked for him. He looked gorgeous and put together like he always was, he looked perfect in every possible way, and you disdainfully felt your heart skipping beats as your throat tightened.

“You’re always there for me,” he addressed you before he did anything, his bright and megawatt smile stealing every atom of oxygen from your lungs, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, lovebug.”

“You’re going to be amazing, like always.” You couldn’t stop yourself from feeling the sting of tears and the shake of your voice had nearly given you away.

“Only because of you,” he stopped by the mirror and leaned in, resting his hands on either side of you, “you get more beautiful every time I see you.”

Your eyes close as he kisses the top of your head and you dig your nails into your thigh, urging yourself not to cry until he’s gone. You have to wait until he mumbles can’t wait to see you when I’m done before you can let the stinging tears roll down your cheeks and the first strangled cry fall from your lips.

You have to wait until the door is closed before you can cover your face with your hands and quietly scream into your palms. You wait until he’s gone and doing his job, being the captivating presence he always is, before you stand and hastily grab your things.

You can’t be here when he’s done, you can’t be here when his fans start screaming his name and the women eager to sleep with him fight to find him. you can’t be here when the press takes pictures of you, only to reduce you to the ugly best friend.

You have to leave, because staying another moment may actually shatter what’s left of your tender heart.

#choose the character #choose the profession #plus sized reader #plus size!reader #plus-sized!reader #self doubt #self-doubt #self conscious #body shaming

[imafuckinggrimreaper]

doubting yourself to the point that you doubt your self-doubt

#yeah that's stuff i do #life #quotes #overthinking #self-doubt #introspection #life quotes #introvert #someheartbrokenpoemsaboutlove #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #female writers #writeblr #writer stuff #words words words #poetic #writing