#i start working my job hours prevent me from doing this sleep therapy. so i actually havent been able yo even try anything. i go okayyyy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thalassarche · 1 year ago

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So, I'm sleepless at 1am and I'm tired and I'm upset so I'm going to get out the shit that has been going on for me the past month and a half, because it keeps leaking out in tags and I guess maybe I should not do that. This is going to be long and it's a huge bummer. I just don't feel like I can come out and talk about it directly to anyone because it is indeed a huge bummer and I just. can't deal with like. the feeling of unloading this on someone and then what. but throwing it into the tumblr void and hiding it behind cuts feels less like I'm throwing a bunch of gross stuff at someone's feet so like, yeah. Content warnings for uh, facing the mortality of aging parents, the American healthcare system being a fucking nightmare, mentions of strokes, infections, and other huge medical problems, and basically stuff being awful.

I have lived with my mom as her caregiver for the past three years, since losing my job during covid. She is six years in remission from breast cancer, diabetic, and in end stage renal failure, meaning her kidneys don't work and she needs hemodialysis 3 days a week. I came in mostly to do things like shopping, the majority of cooking and cleaning, be present in case of falls, things like that. It's worked out, mostly. It sucks that she had to move to AZ to live near her brother simply due to the fact that her cozy little house in MT that she got remodeled to her needs has no dialysis centers within an hour's drive and the closest ones had no open seats anyway, not even for a summer stay, because of the nationwide nursing and technician shortage in healthcare. So she lives in AZ and goes to dialysis 10 minutes away. It works out, sorta. But. Since August 1st:

she had a stroke, which affected the language centers of her brain and made speech, writing, and complex communication difficult

she spent a week in neuro ICU for follow up; this was at a hospital 20 miles away in Phoenix. yes I drove there every day to see her.

she was transferred to a rehabilitation center after that week, where she had several good days but then started to experience severe lower back pain.

the back pain got so severe that she was crying and even screaming when being helped into/out of bed, or having the head of the bed elevated so she could eat.

myself and her other present family were very upset about this, because she was in pain! and also it was preventing progress in her PT/OT after the stroke! we wanted them to do something and find out what was going on!

an xray was done. "no significant findings."

we asked for a CT scan or MRI if an xray found nothing.

it didn't happen. maybe insurance said no, maybe assumptions were made that it wasn't necessary.

but mom spent the rest of her 15 days at that rehab facility on tylenol and then oxycodone.

she was then discharged, and yet in no state to come home.

we found a short-term care facility for her that she'd actually stayed at after her initial ER stay that discovered her renal failure. we thought that she'd do okay there.

she didn't. she declined. she was still in severe pain. MWF for her dialysis, she was basically just, done. and they had scheduled her dialysis at 6am. so. the day was just over, no ability for therapy.

they still just gave her oxycodone so even on good days she was sleeping a lot and very out of it.

we asked to speak to the physician and her case worker. we were not able to.

we asked for her to get further testing instead of just this pattern of throwing narcotics at her and watching her decline. it didn't happen.

at the end of her second week there, she was becoming less responsive and more inclined to just sleep.

she wasn't eating. I tried so hard to encourage her to eat, I even fed her. she still would eat a few bites and then be uninterested in more.

one day she only ate a cup of yogurt.

then she was so badly out of it and barely responsive that I demanded that they do something. so they gave her narcan. because maybe she was too lost in the oxycodone sauce. didn't help, they gave her more. didn't help. they called EMTs.

she ended up in the ER, where they did a CT, MRI, and bloodwork.

(this was a week ago)

turns out she has an infection in her spine. which is osteomyelitis, an infection in the bone and bone marrow that just constantly hurts. oh also numerous pressure sores, including a bad one on her heel, and a bad one on her lower back. either could have introduced the infection into her spine.

that infection has spread to her blood. yeah she's got sepsis.

she also has had at least one additional stroke and her speech has degraded even further.

she spent several days in the ICU and it was very touch and go.

it is still very touch-and-go but she's now in progressive care (pcu) which is a downgrade from ICU in terms of how serious.

but yeah. sepsis is very dangerous for young and relatively healthy people. she is 74. her diabetes means her healing is very slow. her renal failure means that her system can't handle a heavy load of antibiotics so they have to be given more spaced out and in lower doses.

it. sucks.

I still go to see her every day and talk to her even if she's not responding. I sing songs she knows. I put on videos of the church services in her hometown for her to listen to. - it. sucks. so. much.

oh yeah also her place here in AZ is in a retirement park and I can only be here because she resides here. so if something happens even in terms of her moving her permanent residence elsewhere I can't stay here.

I have no income I basically just lived here with her and she covered my expenses as my pay for being her caregiver. so like. looks at the potential need to get independent housing, looks at bank account with $30 in it, laughs darkly and decides I can't think about that.

besides I need to think about how this could be the last time I have left with my mom.

it. sucks.

#albatrosities #life stuff shit.#anyway.

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noforkingclue · 3 years ago

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I Just Want To Sleep (Bucky x reader)

Summary: If you had a chance to get rid of your nightmares forever would you take it? Even if that solution was to share a bed with someone you just about tolerated?

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: mutual pining, angst

MCU tag list: @geocookie21

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

Everyone had nightmares, they were just another part of the job. It was known that most people got them, whether they lasted a couple of days after a mission or a lifetime. It was a fact that everyone knew about but just didn’t talk about it. That sort of thing wasn’t done.

Nightmares always varied from person to person but always involved what people were working on. The lives they failed to save whether from friends, colleagues or innocent bystanders. You were used to hearing people waking up screaming or sobbing, people going to therapy but never talking to anyone else about it. But those weren’t the worst types to have. The worst was when people remembered the lives of the innocents they had taken themselves. The sounds of breaking bones and skulls shattering, children crying over the bodies of their parents begging them to wake up although you knew they never would.

The nightmares that made you question whether or not you were the heroes or the villains. The ones that made you question your own morals.

You had forgotten the last time you had gotten a decent nights last as you laid awake looking up at the ceiling. Eventually you sighed and got out of bed knowing that you’d never get back to sleep. You walked into the small kitchen of the safe house and poured yourself a glass of water.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

You jumped at the sound of Bucky’s voice breaking the silence of the night. You turned around and saw him lounging on the sofa, the blanket half hanging off of him. You made a point of only looking directly at his face, determined not to let your eyes wander over his bare chest.

“Same to you.” You said

“Everything alright?”

“Yes. Why shouldn’t it be?”

“Heard you scream.”

You hesitated for a moment before saying quietly,

“Just nightmares, nothing new. You?”

“Same.”

There was a beat of silence. You looked around, uncomfortable with where this conversation was going. You never spoke to anyone about your nightmares, even trying to avoid the topic with your therapist. Sam kept telling you it was unhealthy and while you knew he was right you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Bucky

“Do you want to talk about yours?”

Bucky’s silence told you anything. You gave him a pointed look as you took you water and left the room. Just because you and Bucky were working together didn’t mean that you had to open up completely to him. Not at all.

It was late (or early depending on who you asked) by the time you and Bucky collapsed back into the safe house. The mission took longer than both of you were expecting and all you wanted to do was curl up and sleep.

“My turn to take the sofa.” You said

Bucky had been insistent that you took the bed when you two work together. He was strangely adamant that you shouldn’t share and you guessed that it was some hangover from the nineteen forties. You had argued that it was unfair that he was forced on the sofa each night and forced him to alternate who took the bed.

“You should take the bed again,” said Bucky, “You need it more than I do.

“Don’t bullshit me,” you said, “You might be a super soldier but I saw how hard you got hit. Take the bed.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Bucky glared at each other and while you were tired you weren’t about to give in. When Bucky smirked you knew he had a plan and when he laid down on the sofa he said,

“And where will you sleep now?”

“Move.”

“No.”

“Move please.”

“Make me.”

“If you don’t move right now I’ll sleep on top of you.”

“I don’t think you will.”

You smirked back at him before walked over and put your full bodyweight on him. Bucky groaned as you rested your head on his chest. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around you to prevent you falling off and you had to resist the urge to blush as he did so.

“You’re really stubborn you know that?” he said

“It’s one of my most endearing features.”

“You’re not moving are you?”

“Fine.” He grumbled

“Night Bucky.”

“Night y/n.”

You opened your eyes and groaned as the bright light assaulted them. Strong arms tightened around your waist and for a brief moment you had forgotten about what happened last night. You sat up with a jolt which caused Bucky’s grip on you to slip and for you to fall to the floor. Bucky sat bolt upright before looking down at you in amusement.

“Nice night Princess?” he asked

“What time is it?” you asked

Bucky shrugged and you glared up and you hunted for your watch. When you found it you blinked, not quite believing the time.

“Well?” Bucky asked as he lay back down

“What time did we get in last night?”

Bucky shrugged

“About three.”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“Then you’re watch is wrong.”

“No it’s not. Fuck,” you ran your fingers through your hair, “I can’t remember the last time I slept for seven hours straight.”

“That isn’t healthy.”

“Oh and you’re the person who can comment on healthy sleeping patterns.”

“Never said I was doll.”

You looked over your shoulder and glared at Bucky when he used the nickname.

“Must’ve just been because we were tired,” you muttered, “That’s it!”

“Hmm.”

Bucky didn’t sound convinced and you rolled your eyes.

“You got a better idea?” you asked

Bucky sat up and swung his legs over the side of the sofa. You rested your back against the side of the sofa and looked up at him.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “It has something to do with last night.”

“Last night?”

“When you fell asleep in my arms.”

“Only because you were being stubborn!”

“Right.”

You groaned and ran a hand over your face. You looked up at Bucky and you could see the hopeful uncertainty in his eyes. A way of helping your nightmares without having to openly discuss them with anyone else.

What did you have to lose?

“You’re taking up the whole bed!”

“No I’m not.”

“Well your leg is on my side.”

“This is a single bed. There are no sides!”

You and Bucky were back to back trying to cram into a too small bed. When it was just one of you the bed was the perfect size but it definitely wasn’t made for two people. You tried to pull some of the blanket over you but Bucky kept a firm grip on it.

“Give me some of that!”

“You have plenty.”

“Ugh,” you sat up and glared at him, “This was a stupid idea. Why did I even agree to it? Move, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“No, you’re not going anywhere Princess.”

“Excuse me?”

“Err,” Bucky just realised what he had said, “That came out creepier than I intended.”

“You don’t say.”

“But please, just one more night.”

You wanted to say no, you really did, but one look at his pleading gaze had you melting. You sighed and nodded. He gave you a dazzling grin as you laid back down.

“But you need to move over.” You muttered

“Don’t blame me,” came the answer, “I’m not the person you decided it was a good idea to only supply single beds.”

You shifted again and your leg brushed Bucky’s. For a brief second he pressed back against yours and you closed your eyes enjoying the sensation. You had forgotten how nice it was to sleep next to someone again even if the both of you might end up waking each other up with your nightmares. Eventually you heard Bucky sigh.

“It isn’t working like this.”

“I told you- hey!”

To your surprise Bucky didn’t get out of bed. Instead he pulled you into his arms. You were practically lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. It was different from last time then you were half asleep but now you had never been more awake. Bucky moved so your leg slipped in between his and he rested his chin on top of your head. If anyone broke in now they’d probably mistake the two of you as a couple. You had never been more grateful that Sam had been out of the country.

“Better?” asked Bucky

“Yes.”

“You sure? You sound a bit-“

“I’m just tired.”

“Right. Night.”

“Night.”

And just like the night before you had the best night’s sleep in years, safely wrapped in the arms of a highly trained killer.

“What’s going on between you and Bucky? I left the two of you for a month and now you’re practically on top of each other.”

You couldn’t contain your blush as Sam looked at you over the rim of his coffee cup. He raised an eyebrow at your reaction and you said quickly,

“It isn’t what you think.”

“And what’ll that be.”

“We’re not sleeping with each other.”

“Right.”

“I mean, technically we are sleeping with each other.”

Sam, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, choked on it. He looked at you incredulously as you clarified,

“We’re not fucking. We’re literally just sharing a bed. I have absolutely no desire to have sex with Bucky Banes.”

“You’re probably one of the few people on this planet who wouldn’t.”

“Would you?”

Sam shrugged and you just rolled your eyes.

“But why? I thought you hated him.”

“I don’t hate him,” you said, “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“He helps… he helps with the nightmares.”

“You’re still having them.”

“Doesn’t everyone.”

“Y/n,” Sam said gently, “You need help.”

“I have a therapist.”

“Sharing a bed with Bucky isn’t going to fix things for the long run.”

“Might do.”

Sam gave you a disapproving look which you pointedly avoided. You knew deep down that he was right but you just couldn’t face talking about what had happened with anyone. You were too afraid, too paranoid, that your secrets would be leaked. That the trust you spent years rebuilding would be broken again in a heartbeat. You just weren’t ready to lose everyone again and if the solution to your problems meant Bucky then you gladly take it.

It was strange sharing a bed with someone after all these years. Bucky usually woke up early, usually after horrific nightmares about becoming the Winter Solider again and losing control. He would spend hours lying in bed, waiting for the sun to rise and the day to start again but now things were different.

Now he had you.

How calm and peaceful you looked when you slept, how your soft breaths made him feel at peace. The way your chest rose and fell and pressed against his. Bucky had been interested in your for a while, how most people avoided you and you only seemed to speak to Sam. How you avoided him when Sam first introduced the two of you until you were forced to work together. He wouldn’t lie, he was slightly jealous of how close you were to Sam even though he knew you relationship was strictly platonic.

Just like yours and his.

That’s the two of you were, colleagues, maybe even friends, cuddle buddies as you teasingly referred to it once. That’s something Bucky noticed, how you were slowly opening up to him. Slowly you once awkward conversations turned into slight teasing and, at least on his part, slightly flirting. Just the odd comment here and there just to see you blush and stumble over your words. Bucky thought it was cute how flustered you got over simple compliments and how you shyly returned them. He enjoyed the warm feeling he got whenever you flirted back even though neither of you were serious about it.

That was it, neither of you were serious about it. Bucky enjoyed your friendship at least that was what he was hoping this is. He liked the idea of you showing him your favourite films or books, showing him your favourite places around your home city. Him teaching you about his original time period, teaching you how to dance as he pulled you close while the two of you were awake. He closed his eyes and smiled as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

The two of you just being friends.

“Hey, a new restaurant just opened want to try it?”

“Can’t tonight Sam. I promise Buck that we’d watch Blade Runner tonight.”

“Blade Runner?”

“Yeah, never thought that he’d be a fan of Ridley Scott’s films.”

You held your mobile between your cheek and your shoulder as you put a bottle of wine in the fridge. Saturday’s were film nights between you and Bucky and you always looked forward to them. The nights when it was just the two of you curled up on your sofa. Bucky’s arm over your shoulder, a bowl of popcorn between you and an empty pizza box on the table. It was quickly becoming your favourite night of the week. You could practically hear Sam’s raised eyebrow through the phone and you quickly added,

“But I’m free tomorrow afternoon.”

“And since when did you call him Buck?”

This made you pause. You didn’t know when that change happened. It just seemed to develop gradually and seemed to fit.

“And you guys spend most nights together.”

“It helps with the nightmares.” You said quietly

“Really? You sure there isn’t another reason?”

“What are you implying?”

“Are you going out.”

“What! Sam! No! Buck and I are just friends.”

“Hmm.”

Sam didn’t sound convinced and you rubbed your eyes. You were glad that he couldn’t see your face as you could feel yourself blushing. The sound of knocking at the door gave you your escape and you jumped out of your skin when you heard it.

“Sorry Sam,” you said quickly, “Got to go.”

“Don’t think this conversation is over.”

“Ok, whatever, bye.”

You hung up and dashed towards the door. As you opened it and looked up into Bucky’s smiling face you knew the Sam’s words were going to be harder to forget than you initially thought.

You were right, you couldn’t get Sam’s words out of your head. They echoed around as Bucky pulled you close, seemingly engrossed in the film. You were just his friend but ow you longed to be more. How you wanted his eyes to light up whenever he saw you. In hindsight this was a stupid idea, sharing a bed with someone, even in a completely non-sexual way, something was bound to happen. Even if it was just missing the warmth of someone next to you while you slept.

You rolled over so you were facing Bucky. His arms were still wrapped around you and it surprised you about how easily it was to fall asleep in his arms, even with his metal arm curled tightly around you. You raised a hand and gently traced it alone his cheekbones and along his face.

Your gaze dropped to his lips as your fingers grazed along them. How you longed to feel them pressed against yours, to have his arms around you during the day and not just to help the both of you sleep at night.

Just then Bucky shifted in his sleep and rolled over. For a sickening moment you wondered if you had accidently woken him up, however, and much to your relief, that wasn’t the case. Bucky rolled onto his back and dragged you with him. You head was resting against his chest and you smiled as you rested against it and heard the steady thump of his heartbeat. You might as well make the most of it while it lasted.

After all, this couldn’t go on forever.

“Morning.”

You looked at Bucky as he entered your kitchen while you poured yourself a cup of tea. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders but you quickly removed yourself from his arms. These touches were becoming less platonic and more romantic especially since your conversation with Sam. You didn’t want to give Bucky the wrong impression or to get your feelings crushed.

“You ok?” he asked, “Did you sleep alright.”

“I slept fine.”

“Ok.” Bucky said slowly

You inhaled deeply as you turned so your back was facing Bucky. This was hard to do but you didn’t want to lead him on. You never meant to develop feelings for Bucky or for him to imagine that there was more to this than was originally planned.

“I think we need to talk.” You said at last

“Nothing ever good happens after those words,” Bucky said, “What’s wrong?”

You looked over your shoulder at him. Bucky was smiling softly but his eyes told a different story. Anxiety was laced inn them and you winced and looked away. You took another sip of your tea and Bucky took a step towards you. He lifted your chin and you looked in his eyes. You pulled your chin free and said,

“We need to stop this.”

“What?”

“This was a stupid idea,” you said, “I never should’ve agreed to it.”

“But it’s helping.”

You walked away as Bucky quickly followed you. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t meant to resist, he was meant to agree and let you go. It was supposed to be easy to let go of him.

“For you maybe.” You said

“What do you?”

“They’re back Bucky. My nightmares are back.

They weren’t, they hadn’t been back for months. You couldn’t stand seeing the pained look on Bucky’s face at your lie and you felt dirty for saying it. He took a step closer but stopped when you backed away.

“Why didn’t you say anything.” He said softly

“Because it was helping you.”

“Right.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“See a therapist I suppose.”

“Good. I, umm, hope it helps.”

“Same.”

“I’ll umm, I should be going.”

“You can stay for breakfast.”

“No,” Bucky said sharply, then winced at his tone, “No,” he repeated softly, “I should leave. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, sure.”

It was only when the door clicked softly behind him that you allowed yourself to crumple on the ground, tears pouring down your face.

“What’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Drop it Sam.”

“Buck-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Y/n can.”

Sam saw the way Bucky flinched when he said your name. Bucky was currently lying on Sam’s sofa which almost gave Sam a heart attack when he walked into his living room that morning. It was too early to deal with whatever happened between the two of you and Sam needed at least two cups of coffee before dealing with it.

“What happened.” He asked

“Nothing.”

“Then why does it feel like you’ve come here after she dumped you.”

“She didn’t dump me.”

“So you dumped her?”

“We weren’t dating.”

“But you were sharing a bed.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Bucky put a hand over his eyes, “It was just a way coping with our nightmares, at least,” he sighed, “I thought it was.”

“Oh?”

“Turns out she was still having them. Stopped it this morning.”

“Oh.”

Bucky looked over at Sam who was looking slightly guilty. He sat up and glared at his friend.

“Do you know what happened?” he asked

“No.”

“What do you say to her?”

“Nothing I wouldn’t say to you.”

“Which is.”

“You like her.”

“She’s my friend.”

“I mean,” Sam sighed, “You want to date her.”

“She’s my friend.”

“So? It’s obvious that you’re in love with her and she’s in love with you.”

“I don’t love her and she certainly doesn’t love me.”

“Then why are you here looking like you’re about to cry yourself to sleep after eating all my ice cream and watching shitty rom coms?”

“This was a bad idea.”

“Look, you can crash on my sofa if it makes you feel better,” said Sam, “But you need to sort this out with y/n. It’s hard enough listening to her when she talks about you.”

“She talks about me?”

The soft smile on Bucky’s face told Sam everything.

“All the fucking time.”

“What does she say?”

“Oh no,” Sam held up his hands, “You should talk to her about that.”

He heard Bucky’s groan as he collapsed back against his sofa. Sam could only hope that the two of you would stop dancing around each other and actually talk for once. He was getting tired of seeing you pine over one another.

“So, how long has it been since your last session with me?”

You shrugged.

“You have my notes Doc. You tell me.”

You therapist hummed in acknowledgement as she wrote a note in her notepad. You closed your eyes and tried to take calming breaths. This was a bad idea.

“So, tell me, how have you been?”

“Surviving.”

“Just that?”

“It’s been a shit couple of years. Give me some credit.”

“And what about your friends. You’ve been keeping in contact with them?”

“I talk to Sam.”

“Just Sam?”

“And Bucky.”

This earned you a raised eyebrow but nothing else.

“Sam introduced us,” you explained, “Couldn’t hang out with Sam without Bucky being there.”

“And are you two close?”

“Sam and I. Yes, he’s one of my closest friends. He was the only one who stuck with me after-“

You cut yourself off as your therapist said,

“Yes?”

“Doesn’t matter. You know what.”

“And what about you and Bucky.”

“It’s… complicated.”

“Want to elaborate.”

You were silent for a moment, weighing up your options, before you said,

“Nothing leaves this room right?”

“Of course.”

“Just making sure. We’ve been sleeping together.”

“You’ve entered a sexual relationship with the Winter Solider?”

“He’s not the Winter Solider anymore!” you exclaimed, “And no, it’s not sexual. We’ve just been sharing a bed.”

“Why?”

“It helps…”

“Helps with what?”

“My nightmares.”

“Y/n,” she sighed, “What did I tell you about your nightmares. If you’ve been having them you need to tell me.”

“They stopped when I was with him. Bucky helped me and I fucked up by stopping seeing him.”

“Right,” another hurried note, “And is this because you want your relationship with Bucky to become sexual.”

You flushed angrily and stood up. The therapist held your gaze before you said,

“This is over.”

As you marched out of the room you heard her call,

“Same time next week!”

You lasted one week, one week of constant nightmares before you cracked. You grabbed your phone and debated whether or not you should call him before swallowing your pride and calling him.

“Y/n.”

Bucky answered almost immediately. You smiled through your tears as you pulled your legs up to your chest.

“What happened? Are you ok? Talk to me.”

“I killed someone.”

Silence.

“Where are you.”

“In bed,” you said, “My mentor, that’s why I have these nightmares. She was a good person who fucked up. She was more like a friend than a teacher, taking me under her wing when no one else would. She never abandoned me and when she needed me the most I betrayed her.”

You took a shaky breath and continued,

“She betrayed us, SHIELD, she was selling intelligence. She was only doing it was she was being blackmailed, at least that was what she told me, but no one listened to her. Fury told me to bring her in but she wouldn’t listen. Told me that she’d rather die than be remembered as a traitor. There was a fight and I… and I…”

“Go on.”

“I stabbed her. I killed her. I held her bleeding body in my arms as she died. She told me that she’d been lying, that she wasn’t being blackmailed, that she did it for the money. This person that I had been defending with my entire being was a traitor. Afterwards nobody could look me in the eye. I don’t know if it was out of pity or mistrust. Sam was the only one who didn’t treat me any differently. He understood my pain, my conflict, he defended me. I still have nightmares of her, laughing at my foolishness as I choke the life out of her each night for the pain she put me through. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Compared to me, you’re a saint. You’re a good person who was in a difficult situation. You didn’t want to betray your friend. You’ve been hurt and you want revenge on the person who caused that. You’re not a bad person and never think that.”

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“You’re a good person too.”

“I think you’re one too.”

That earned you a chuckled down the phone and you found yourself smiling at the sound.

“Princess,” Bucky said, “You don’t know how wrong you are.”

“I’m a fairly good judge of character.”

“Only when you’re awake. You sound half asleep. Get some rest.”

“What about y-“

“Don’t worry about me. Just try and get some sleep.”

“Anything for you Buck.”

“Good girl.”

“Good night.”

“Night.”

You hadn’t heard from Bucky for several weeks and every day you were debating on whether or not to call him. To hear his voice down the phone, for him to come over, to launch yourself into his arms and tell him how sorry you were. How you regretted ever telling him that you needed to stop this, that you missed him, that you loved him.

For the third night in a row you lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. You couldn’t get off to sleep, fears of seeing your dead mentor’s face filling you with dread. You continued with therapy and while it was helping it made you realise how much you missed Bucky. Suddenly a pounding at your door caused you to sit bolt upright. You hardly ever got any visitors especially at two in the morning.

“Y/n, y/n it’s me. Open this door. Please.”

Bucky.

You wasted no time in jumping out of bed and sprinting to your door. You flung it open and Bucky practically fell inside. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you into a tight hug. You walked backwards, still in Bucky’s arms, and he kicked the door closed behind him. When you felt your shoulder getting damped your eyes widened and you slowly returned the embrace.

“Bucky,” you said quietly, “What happened.”

“I kill you.”

“Umm.”

“Well, not me, he did. I wasn’t in control but I could feel everything. I was powerless to stop him as he took you away from me. I couldn’t… I couldn’t go on without knowing that it was all a nightmare. That you’re still alive.”

“I am,” you rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder, “I am. Fuck, I’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No, I am. I never should’ve stopped this but I was afraid.”

“Afraid.”

Bucky looked up and you gave him a sad smile.

“I was afraid that you wouldn’t feel the same. That I have fucked up because I never expected to get used to this. To being with you and I knew that you didn’t feel the same. That I was just your friend, so I ended it before my feelings developed any further. I thought I was saving myself from pain and I ended up just hurting both of us. I lied Bucky, my nightmares did stop when I was with you but I was afraid of getting hurt.”

You buried your head against Bucky’s chest. His arms tightened around you as he rested his chin on top of your head.

“You have no idea,” he said at last, “How painful it has been to wake up in an empty bed. To know that you were out there and possibly in pain. That I was using you to actually fall asleep while you were in pain.”

“I hurt you though. I was selfish.”

“And I was being selfish as well.”

“No you weren’t.”

“Yes I was.”

“No you weren-“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Bucky had lifted your chin and pressed his lips against yours. You froze in his embrace. Of all the times you imagined kissing Bucky you never thought it would be with tears covering your face and on the verge of completely breaking down. When you weren’t returning the kiss Bucky reluctantly broke it. He moved away and opened his mouth but you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him back. You felt him smile against your lips and when you broke it gasping for air he rested his forehead against yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” He said quietly

“I think I have some idea,” you said, “Forgive me?”

“Yes.”

You relaxed and smiled up at him.

“Good. Now let’s get back to bed.”

“Princess, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

#fanfiction #mcu #fatws #reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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furiousgoldfish · 4 years ago

Text

I haven't been writing a lot lately because my recovery has been taking a wild turn and in lack of anyone to talk to or therapy, I'll be writing about it here! I'll put it under a cut. There are some descriptions of recovery going very wrong, and also explanations of things I was wrong about.

So since the pandemic started I've been deteriorating badly, first I've been processing trauma extensively, having intense breakdowns and gradually it turned into depression from lack of stimulation, I've been completely alone for months without speaking to, or seeing anyone. I thought it was the isolation getting to me, and decided I just need to endure that, indulge in whatever coping I could and wait for it to end. And then things got worse.

Even as normally I was seeing some very slow progress in recovery; now it was going backwards; I was having less and less ability to get anything done, I wasn't able to force myself to do my job for months, I kept getting stuck in bed for weeks, chronic pain got so bad I couldn't move on most days. And, it only kept going worse.

My breakdowns stared to be about the present instead of the past; I couldn't handle being in pain all the time. As in before I would recover from a breakdown within a day or two, now it took 4 days to a week, and the trauma episodes would last for hours, so intense I'd find myself hoping I would die during it.

And then, I started losing all mobility and this seriously freaked me out. Everything above I've already experienced before, without long term consequences, but now my body was losing function in a way that felt permanent; I could no longer move for more than few minutes, and without extensive pain. Sometimes I would try to get up and end up collapsing and screaming from how much it hurt, I would move my arm and my whole body would experience a shock of intense pain. I was scared, I no longer knew what was going on, I was suspecting something more than ptsd was wrong. I've forced myself into physical activity, trying to fight this, I tried stretching, exercising, running, punching, and every single one of these activities made it incredibly worse. I thought I had broken my body by laying down too much. I no longer felt anything but terror and dread, and kept spiralling into scenarios of my own death; it felt inevitable, I wasn't going to survive without ability to move, nobody would take care of me.

I tried out medicine that helps relaxing, it had minimal effect. Then, in desperation to check if this was all ptsd, I attempted self harm, to see if it erases the pain. It did. It lowered the pain significantly It was a big relief, even though I wasn't happy with resorting to that, at least I could move around for a while, and I was grateful for that. Times couldn't be more desperate, and the measure felt fitting. I was still in a very bad shape, and the pain was only somewhat lessened.

It was about that time someone sent me the Complex PTSD book; I had wanted it for a while and immediately went to read it. I felt some relief reading it, and I was struck with the realization that I have not felt any relief in more than a year. It also surprised me with some of the exact descriptions of my behaviour, that I didn't realize was a symptom. I thought it was necessary and smart of me to live in hiding, to avoid interaction and never connect to anyone; it kept me safe. It turns out it's a regular freeze response to trauma; I got very called out for it. It also explains that a freeze response is what people use when anything else doesn't work, and it's true! I had been fighting, fawning and perfecting myself desperately prior to realizing that absolutely nothing helps, and froze to survive. It also described that freeze types are capable of surviving prolonged isolation because their brains produce hormones that relax the body as if they're going thru a moment before death; also true for me, I've been aware my brain does that, only I get that way too often, and it only helps me marginally because I'm too used to it.

Another thing I was very wrong about was my concept of my inner critic; I thought I had already won that battle, because I did not allow any voice in my head to criticize me (my alters can drag me affectionately), and I generally didn't experience a lot of shame or guilt for what I was going thru. The book describes inner catastrophizer, which is an extention of the critic, and it causes you to spral into extremely negative scenarios of your own demise. Now that.. was happening to me every single day, I saw myself dead around every corner. But I always thought my fears about that were perfectly reasonable. I had been tortured into suicidal state as a kid and nobody cared, I barely escaped with my life from there, I was living illegally, in hiding, without a normal job or regular income, without close friends or any family, with ptsd i couldn't get diagnosed for, without ability to work due to ptsd, in a capitalistic society where being able to work is only thing between you and dying. I had, by that point, gained many skills of survival, but it still felt very reasonable to fear that I would die if I don't get better soon.

The book described people who had families, jobs, social circles, friends and community, who spiraled into deep fear of becoming homeless and dying on the street; somehow their spiraling was exactly the same as mine, and it made me realize that it was, in fact, a symptom, and not reflection of reality. Because I was spiraling even when laying in my bed or eating or sleeping, knowing I could still afford rent for months because I arranged my life to allow myself to lay down a lot. I kept fearing my parents were coming to end my life, even when I arranged my entire existence specifically to prevent this from happening. And even if I was sick and without a real job, I had in fact, survived for 5 years after running away, I wasn't getting worse at it. My spiraling into death scenarios was a symptom of being trapped within a flashback.

The book guided me to try to challenge these fears, I immediately went for it, had a breakdown, screamed "I can't" for like an hour, had additional few breakdowns afterwards, and miraculously, recovered from them in only few hours. And then, I woke up from my flashback.

I won't describe what the flashback was, because it's too gruesome and horiffic, but it was in fact, bad enough to warrant every single bit of that pain I was experiencing, and a very convoluted, complex trauma. I was waiting to be killed in that flashback. Whats concerning is, I've been trapped in that same flashbacks for more than a year. After I broke my way out of it, it felt like I woke up to being alive for the first time in years. I got out being frozen in bed.

For 5 amazing days, I was able to do whatever I wanted. Chronic pain? I didn't know her. It was absoluely exhilirating to get to move again, I was not getting tired either, I was out there making up for months of doing nothing and I was not collapsing at any point. I felt actual joy again, and hope, and being free from pain was so extremely good, that alone made me ecstatic. I was able to create, to be organized, to take care of myself, to follow a checklist, to focus, I was a Normal Person for those 5 days.

And then, predictably, I was getting back stuck in that flashbacks and my levels of terror and dread spiked again. I went to re-read the book, and it took me a few days to really figure it out again, I don't know exactly how the book works on me, I feel like it says just the right keywords to trigger me into realizations and causes breakdowns that set me free. I found myself able to stop some spiraling, but sometimes I can't, that flashback holds immense power over me and is actually mixed with 10 other near-death scenarios that are too extreme for me to process, so this will keep happening. I did break free again, and got to experience additional few days of movement and happiness; I also started working extensively with my child alter, who was until recently extremely suicidal and dangerous to work with.

I am still kinda lost in all of this, and unsure whats going on, but I do believe I wont get trapped in a flashback again for a whole year. I became so anxious and helpless due to isolation, I forgot how to fight trauma, I forgot I actually had to do it. I used to do it constantly in the beginning, but it had made me suicidal back then to face all this, so I tried to just let it heal naturally, which I believed would eventually happen; but it didn't, I got trapped and suffered without knowing how to get out. I also believed my own spiraling was a reflection of reality and not trauma, and that fueled it a lot.

It explains very eloqently in the book how inner catastrophizing comes from being massively neglected; children who are not looked after start to realize just how unprotected they are, so their own sense of danger becomes hypersensitive and starts to lock on possible dangers everywhere. This is then further aided by media that points out every possible bad thing that could happen to a person, and the child who isn't guided by adult who could actually make a reasonable distinction between real and unlikely danger, will clock it all as absolute possibilities and be on alert. It's also fueled by the line of disasters and dangers that happen to them in the context of their own home, and for me, the strongest factor was my parents constantly convincing me that I would die without them. Even though I proved this wrong, and understand they did it precisely because they knew there was a lot of survival ability in me and that's why they worked so hard to destroy it, the fact that it was brainwashed into me under circumstances of torture still makes it impossible for me to fight it.

Maybe one day I will be able to.

I'm writing this because writing things down helps to make sense of it all, and I need to find my way thru this. I also hope someone else will see themselves in what I'm describing and it will help them find a way forward. Complex ptsd is the only book I found that speaks from the point of view of a person who survived cptsd, healed from it, and had so much experience with other traumatized people they're able to draw parallels and create patterns and statistics out if it, it was that more than anything that convinced me of their words, and gave me hope. The book also warns many times of how essential it is to reduce inner critic and catastrophizer before getting other recovery work done, other therapy might only do further harm before this work is done. It was true for me.

If you wanna read this book, here's a post with the links!

#cptsd #complex ptsd #ptsd recovery #tw self harm #story of recovery #trauma #abuse recovery #trauma symptoms #chronic pain #chronic exhaustion #freeze response

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spiderling-space · 4 years ago

Note

I’d like a Halloween request please! Did you know many people believe on Halloween the borders between worlds are at their weakest? Can you please do a ficlet of a Yandere Malleus taking advantage of the border between our worlds being weak on Halloween to drag the MC back to Twisted Wonderland many years after they managed to get back to their homeworld?

I thought it was the door between living and dead but I’ll go with multiverse. Ngl putting my works to AO3 made me want to write longer ficlets but the story will decide the length itself.

Italics indicate thoughts

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

Malleus Draconia

Warning: Yandere tendencies, mentions of PTSD and night terror, panic attack

It had been 7 years since (Y/N) managed to escape hell or as it was officially called Twisted Wonderland. It took lots of therapy sessions and support from their loved ones for (Y/N) to feel normal again. It took over a year for them to have a good night’s sleep. Waking up screaming from nightmares was their nightly habit in year 1. It took them 2 years to finally go out just by themselves and 3 years to date someone again.

(Y/N) finally moved on, breaking free of their chains that were called Twisted Wonderland. They had a job, moved out of their parents’ house, spent Friday nights out with their friends, get on Tinder, go on dates and have one night stands. Life was good again…

Today was Halloween night, the night they could wear the weirdest outfit and no one would bat an eye. (Y/N) and their friends went to the party downtown and got drunk. (Y/N) called Uber to get back to their apartment after saying goodbyes to their friends. They locked the door after getting in their home and threw their shoes to the side. After chunking 2 glasses of water, they went to their bedroom.

(Y/N) just wanted to sleep, dreading to remove makeup and wear pjs since it was too effort so they threw themselves to their bed, closing their eyes. Sleep was taking over but there was this crackling sound that was preventing them from sweat dreams. On top of that, a light was coming over to their face. Is it morning already? I just need 5 more hours. (Y/N) put their pillow over their head to ignore the light and the sound and it was working since they stopped. Finally, on to the dreamlands! Their happiness was cut short as they felt something touch their arm, stroking up and down along their bicep. Well dear bug, I'm just gonna ignore you. No sir, I’ll finally sleep. They were so certain that it was just a bug until a hand rested on their cheek. Oh shit! It’s a burglar or killer or a rapist! They couldn’t just lay there and risk getting hurt. He opened their eyes and grabbed the extra pillow on their bed, swinging it to the other person in the room as they got up and put distance between them. But there was something wrong. The pillow didn’t land on the invader at all, in fact, their arm was frozen in mid-air and the invader wasn’t holding them either.

Alarms bells started ringing in their ears, recalling the last time something like this happened. No No No! It’s impossible! Crowley said it was a one-time opportunity! (Y/N) started taking short breaths as their heartbeat quickened. They finally looked at the invader, taking in the figure for the first time. The room was dark but the lights from outside illuminating enough to see the invader’s outline. The figure was tall, as tall as him. They were dreading to look up to the figure’s head, afraid to see horn shape and making them confirm their suspicion but they had to do it.

Their palms started to sweat as finally looked up to the figure’s head. Horns… Their arm that was holding the pillow started to tremble as their mouth felt dry. (Y/N) just wanted to run but their body didn’t move.

“Hello, Child of Man,” His voice caused shivers down their spine. “It has been a while.” Malleus moved to stand right in front of (Y/N). “I missed you.” He placed his hands on each side of their face, connecting their foreheads.

His touch was burning their skin, they just wanted to get away from him. “Don’t touch me!” (Y/N) yelled, feeling helpless as they couldn’t move to push him away. They were feeling nauseous, maybe from being near him or maybe it was the alcohol or they triggered one another. “How did you get here?!”

He ignored their question. “All these years passed yet you still throw tantrums.” He was talking as if they were a toddler. “Don’t worry anymore, you can finally return home.”

“This is my home! Not Twisted Wonderland, certainly not your kingdom!” (Y/N) felt faint but they were trying their best to stay conscious. They were hoping this was just a nightmare, their night terror making a comeback but deep down they knew it was the reality.

“You are not well, Child of Man. Are you perhaps as excited as me to be together again?” (Y/N) didn’t know if he was deliberately ignoring what they were saying or was he so fucked up in the head to not realize that they hated him?

“FUCK YOU!”

Malleus’ expression turned sour and the aura he gave became darker. “That is not how one should speak to their betrothed.” He was tut-tutting them as if they were a kid who did something they shouldn’t have.

“WE ARE NOT ENGAGED! I FUCKING HATE YOU! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!” (Y/N) tried to move their arms once again to push Malleus away but it was a futile attempt.

What (Y/N) had said must have angered him since he furrowed his eyebrows and his hold on their face tightened. “I hoped you would stop acting like a baby after all these years but it seems you’ve never changed. Worry not, Child of Man, since you will learn how to behave once we go back to Valley of Thorns.” He let them go both physically and magically. Their arm dropped to their side. Malleus was rummaging their stuff. “You will not be needing any of these since I’ll provide you anything you need, my love.”

He is distracted, if I can make it to the kitchen, I can get a knife and at least defend myself. When his back was turned, (Y/N) bolted out of the room, “(Y/N), stop.” But something prevented them, making them stop in mid-motion. “Come here.” Involunteeringly, (Y/N)’s body turned to Malleus and walked towards him. Their mind was screaming to get back but their body was moving on its own as if it was on autopilot. (Y/N) stood in front of Malleus. His voice was soft, almost tender as he was stroking their face. “That is enough of your games. We are going home.”

“No!” (Y/N) tried to take control of their body once again which ended with failure.

Malleus turned to look at the body mirror in their bedroom. He extended and twisted his hand, muttering some words as the mirror started glowing. “(Y/N),” he reached out to hold their hand. “Walk with me through the window.”

(Y/N) was helpless as their body did what it was told. Soon after, they landed in Malleus’ castle in Valley of Thorns. All those memories crashed down upon them. All the things that were done to them there flashed through their eyes. They started to panic again and it only got worse as Malleus tried to calm them. When he understood his words won’t work on (Y/N), he used his magic to calm them down. “Finally you have returned home, my love.” Malleus planted a kiss on their lips. “This day shall be celebrated every year as this night brought us back together. I believe you humans call it Halloween. We shall rename it in your honour and celebrate it in the Valley of Thorns.”

(Y/N) knew there was no way to get back to their world now. They would be stuck with Malleus forever or until they died.

All I ever wanted was to have my own life and be with whomever I want. Why can’t I have that?

————————

The reason why saying the name worked

#malleus draconia #diasomnia #prefect #gender neutral reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere twst #twisted wonderland yandere #yandere #twst malleus #yandere twisted wonderland #ficlet

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

Text

Coquilles

1x05

Will Graham x reader, eventual Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, some cancer talk, murder, dead bodies

Author’s Note: Dudes I do be thriving. I don’t think I’ve gotten as much interaction for any series as I have for this one and it makes me so happpyyy istg. Plus it’s the boys and we love the boys.

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar.

Official Episode Summary : Will and the team track a serial killer who has a gruesome ritual; Hannibal tries to drive a wedge between Jack and Will; Jack's wife, Bella, starts therapy with Hannibal.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

You woke up in a panic. Your heart was racing and the dream you just had slipped your mind but it didn’t stop the worry plaguing your heart. You turned to the side of the bed and found it empty. This did not help your worry. The dogs all looked at you as they sat around the bed, scattered. You counted them and Winston was the only one missing.

Will and Winston that is.

You climbed out of bed. It was six in the morning but the clock was so much too early for him to have gone to work. Plus he always gave you a kiss on the forehead before he left. You hoped Winston had just dragged him outside or maybe he was going to get some fresh air after a bad dream.

But when you opened the front door there was no Will and no Winston. Your heart beat accelerated and you put on your robe and shoes quickly, noticing quickly that Will’s robe was still on the side of the bed. You walked outside and looked around in the darkness, breathing heavily from fear. You couldn’t help but wonder the worst. What if he had gone out to get some fresh air and been kidnapped? What if something happened and Winston was trying to follow him. The dogs sniffed around but found nothing.

You grabbed your phone and called Wills’ cell. The phone rang in the other room. You called the only other number you could think to help you, 911 clearly slipping your mind.

“Y/N?” the voice of a groggy Hannibal Lecter woke up. You didn’t notice you were crying until you tried to speak and a ugly worried cry escaped your lips. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“I woke up and Will’s gone. The cars outside, one of the dogs is gone, his phone is here,” you said worriedly, standing outside, still looking around.

“Was Jack going to come get him?” Hannibal asked, his voice the stark difference of yours. Very calm, very collected.

“No, we drive together or he tells me. Both of the cars are here Hannibal,” you said.

“Should I attempt to make the drive out there?”

It was then you saw the flashing police lights. You almost screamed from worry, scared now that they were coming to tell you they found your boyfriend dead in the street.

“There’s a police car,” you told Hannibal.

“At your home?”

“Yes.”

The back door opened and Will stepped out from the back. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I have to go, Will’s okay,” you said and hung up the phone quickly, making a plan to write a formal apology to Hannibal later when you had hugged Will. You threw your arms around him and kissed him fiercely. You pulled away and wiped the few tears that had spilled. “Where were you?!” you yelled. Winston came out of the car as well and you kneeled down, hugging the dog tightly.

“I was sleepwalking,” he admitted.

“What?”

“We found him a couple of miles away. Maybe you should handcuff him down,” one of the officers suggested.

“Thank you for bringing him home. Both of them,” you said. They nodded and drove down the driveway. You hugged him again. “I thought something had happened.” He shook his head.

“I think I’m going to go to Hannibal’s in the morning,” he said. “Try and see if he can give me something for it so I don’t do it again. Otherwise I think we will have to try out the handcuff idea.” You laughed dryly and nodded.

“It is morning Will.” He looked up at the sun as it started to rise and scoffed.

“Do you want to come with?” he asked. You nodded, fully awake and having to go into the office eventually anyway.

“Yeah. I don’t think I’m letting you out of my sights again.”

“Although I might be, is it safe to assume you’re not sleepwalking now?” Hannibal asked, making some coffee in his robe and pajamas.

“I’m sorry it’s so early,” he said.

“Never apologize for coming to me. Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends.” Hannibal handed both you and Will a cup of coffee. You nodded in thanks. “Y/N woke me up this morning in quite a state. We should try and prevent that from happening again,” Hannibal said simply. You nodded, that morning feeling like a bad dream.

“It wasn’t ideal. That’s why we’re here,” you said.

“I imagine it’s simply some good old fashioned post traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty,” Hannibal said and you nodded along, agreeing with every word.

“Wasn’t forced back into the field,” Will countered. “No matter what she says.” He pointed to you. You drank a bit of the coffee mug silently.

“I wouldn’t say forced. Manipulated would be the word I’d choose.” You nodded quickly again.

“I honestly don’t think Jack Crawford has ever had your best intentions in mind,” you said. You said it often. It was the truth.

“I can handle it,” Will said to both you and Hannibal but his voice wasn’t very convincing.

“Somewhere between denying horrible events and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma.”

“So I can’t handle it?” Will asked.

“Your experience may’ve overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control,” Hannibal told him.

“If my body is walking around without my permission, you’d say that’s a loss of control?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Hannibal asked. You leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Honestly, will you please just speak with Jack?” you asked. Will looked at you and Hannibal, obviously on the same page about his mental state. You and Hannibal came from such different worlds in his mind. The two people he went to when his mind stopped working but you approached it so differently. You both stared at him expectantly.

“I’ll think about it.”

Hannibal gave you some time to check on Will so you took your time off to go and visit him at work. You had never actually seen the place he spent most of his time which was likely the morgue although you never asked. You were directed to a place where there were pull out places with bodies inside.

Will and Beverly stood, talking.

Beverly saw you first and her eyebrows went up.

“Why if it isn’t the other Graham of the household,” she teased. “Your boyfriend has been doing a great job with defying the boss today.” You walked up to the two of them and Will pushed the body that was out back into the wall.

“What are you doing here?”

“Are you finally fighting Jack? Please tell me you are.”

“I was out of line. He wanted answers where there were none,” he admitted. He looked exhausted. You wanted to take off his glasses and make him go to sleep.

“What’s the murder of the week?” you asked, more at Beverly than Will.

“Some guy taking skin off the back to make them look like angels.” You scoffed.

“It’s never boring here is it?”

“Never, not once. I’ll leave you two alone,” Bev said and then was gone. You looked up at Will and let out an audible sigh.

“How are you?” you asked.

“Tired. Did Hannibal send you?”

“He gave me time off, probably presuming that I was going to come and see you. I have to be back before his next patient.” He nodded stiffly. “Is something wrong?”

“Just thinking about defying Jack,” he muttered. You smiled weakly.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You woke up the next morning and Will wasn’t there. Your heart started to race again. You had locked the downstairs door and windows but he still wasn’t there. You got up and started to look around. You immediately noticed that one of the upstairs windows was wide open, letting in a chilly January draft. You walked over to close it and noticed that Will was standing on the roof outside.

You let out a yelp and climbed outside, balancing on the roof as well. You grabbed his arm and he didn’t wake up. Instead his eyes shut tighter. You started to guide him over to the window and you ducked him down, making sure his head didn’t hit anything. You guided him back to the bed and then locked the window.

He was freezing. You weren’t able to go back to sleep despite it being only five. You were too nervous. You set his head on your lap and he cuddled into it, realizing maybe where he was. You played with his curls and thought about calling Hannibal but didn’t want to wake him up again.

You realized then how much of a friend Hannibal had started to become for you. He was quickly reaching your ‘to call’ list when Will was asleep or at work. You thought about that for a while before Will started to stir awake. He sat up and looked around, as you awake.

“Why are you awake?” he asked, groggy.

“You sleep walked onto the roof,” you said lazily. His eyes went wide.

“Maybe we should try that handcuff idea.”

“Well we gotta do something. You have therapy today, ask Hannibal what he thinks.” He nodded and ran a hand over his face to rub out the sleep.

“You seem to care about Hannibal’s opinion a lot.”

“I just want you to get better.” He laid his head back down on your lap and you played with his curls some more before the alarm went off

You sat outside of the office, as you usually would when Hannibal had a client. You were clicking through things, checking payments and what not. Hannibal was in there with Bella Crawford or as her insurance called her, Phyllis Crawford.

You were half paying attention to work, half thinking about Will, when Jack came in. Your mind had a ‘speak of the devil’ moment as he walked inside. You didn’t think he knew that Bella was in there.

“Can I help you Jack?” He looked down at you, sitting at your desk.

“Is my wife in there?”

“If you don’t know I don’t have the privilege to tell you,” you said. You honestly didn’t know if that was a thing but you really didn’t like Jack so you figured you would make it a thing. “How’s my boyfriend?”

“He said he wants to quit. I assume that’s you speaking.”

“We are a very conjoined couple.” You smiled to yourself. Will was making those steps to better himself. That was good. You weren’t sure if they would last but this was a start. The door opened and you cursed your bad plan of him never finding out.

“Agent Crawford,” Hannibal stated.

“Hello, Jack,” Bella said meekly.

“Doctor, you mind waiting in the waiting room so my wife and I can borrow your office for a moment?”

“Not at all.” Hannibal walked beside you and the door shut behind him, Bella and Jack inside.

“What’s there deal?” you asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said. You nodded, understanding. You looked up at Hannibal and he sat on the edge of your desk. “Will woke up on the roof this morning?”

“He woke up in bed but I woke up to him on the roof,” you explained.

“He wants to leave. He wants to fish and work a simple life I just don’t think Jack is willing to let him go,” Hannibal told you.

“Aren’t you supposed to keep all of that in the office?” you asked. He nodded thoughtfully.

“I think you know that though,” he stated simply. That was true. You did know that.

“I admire him for trying,” you said quietly. “I want him to come back to me. He’s my best friend, he’s really all I have. We’re all each other have,” you admitted. “And the dogs.”

“The both of you have me now,” Hannibal promised almost offhandedly.

You nodded but you wondered what he meant by that. You didn’t ask.

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal imagines

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thewickeddevil · 4 years ago

Text

A Study In Jean Moreau

(tw: mentions of Jean's past, violence, mental health and suicidal thoughts/intention to die. let me know if there's something else)

ok, so, i say all the time that Jean Moreau is my favorite and comfort character in All For The Game (i know. it literally hurts but also brings me joy sometimes) and i would literally kill for that man. so, that said, i think too much about him and, consequently, i have too many hcs about him. on request, i will now do what i'm gonna call A Study In Jean Moreau

(my beta reader and best friend helped me a lot with this. thanks @jostenrun)

i'll start with this quote from one of my kerejean fics (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146540)

During Jean's first four months at USC and playing with the Trojans, he would always ignore Jeremy and put a frown on his face whenever he was in the same place as him. It obviously wasn't the best of strategies to put distance between himself and all the Jeremy glow, but it looked exactly bad enough to work.

Still, Jeremy was all pompous and charming looks at him, always smiling and being polite even though he received much less in return. It pissed the shit out of Jean.

He was used by the Ravens for many years, treated exactly like the exchange item he had been, just possession and obliged to follow lines and lines of rules too strict even for how he should breathe.

Riko was violent, the Ravens were cruel, the Moriyama family was wrong and he needed to repeat this to himself on a daily basis to be able to just keep going.

Back at the beginning of those days, many times he would fight back until he was taught that it was only worse. Many times he would beg until he realized that it encouraged Riko more than it prevented him. Many times he would cry until he was taught that it was wrong.

He would often bleed.

He would often wish to bleed until there was nothing left in his veins, no thoughts in his brain, no air in his lungs, no words on the tip of his tongue—

And he would often try to do just that on his own.

That was his daily life for a long time. Evermore was what he knew, the Moriyama family was who he belonged to and all of that was for what he served. That was it.

How was he supposed to know back then that suddenly overly nice twenty-eight other people would replace all of that with magnificence?

How was he supposed to know that they wouldn't look at him with disgust whenever he accidentally let a curse in French slip away?

How was he supposed to know that the Trojans had complete freedom within the team, instead of having to walk in pairs like the Ravens?

How was he supposed to know that Jeremy wasn't going to hit him whenever he made a mistake?

Or how would he know that Jeremy never considered anything that he made a mistake?

It was all a very big break from reality and so, so suddenly. Jean felt confused at first. Lost, wrong, out of place, stupid and scared.

And Jeremy was always determined to be the best he could be. Jeremy was safe.

Until Jean felt comfortable, confident, fine, and satisfied. He was someone instead of something and he really felt like that.

i think Jean would take years to relearn how to live instead of surviving. sometimes he would fail at that, but so many failures can only lead to success eventually.

he really didn't want to keep playing exy after everything, he doesn't think exy is good at all and trauma made him hate it, but he needs it because of the deal with Ichirou. fortunately, the Trojans are a team big enough to put him in the background for a while, to give him a little rest. but he knows he can't relax too much

he starts therapy. he needs it badly and it takes time for him to really be able to do it, but Jean was never anything but strong, and when he sees the chance to finally heal he knows that, despite how tired he is, despite how many times he wonders if it's worth it to keep going, he needs to grab that and at least try. just one more time. he never wanted to work for anything in his life because nothing was important before, but now he thinks that maybe things are changing

the Trojans get a dorm exclusively for him at first, because they don't want Jean to force himself to share space with someone he doesn't know and still doesn't trust. they want Jean to have his own space and feel safe before anything. he needs that solitude and he knows that it doesn't mean loneliness because his team will always be just a call away from him

he relapses sometimes. days without taking basic care of himself and without getting up from bed, and he no longer remembers whether he’s alive or not. sometimes he's able to call his therapist when that happens, but sometimes he isn't

this is how he gets into the habit of learning poetry. and eventually, writing poetry. he needs a coping mechanism and words seem to be safe enough to float around in his mind and make space in his core

(French poetry that Kevin always dissects for him and tells about the history behind the period in which those texts were written, or about the authors of each text)

the process is slow but it’s progress nonetheless

so, we know about therapy, about not being easy, about difficulties and things happening slowly during the healing process, now let's talk about the little details when things finally start to work out positively. when the best part of Jean's life finally begins

he finds out that his eyesight isn't bad only because of the beatings he took in the nest, and finds it ridiculous when Jeremy offers to help him buy glasses because, according to him, all the glasses Jean likes make him look like a middle-aged man that curses people for fun. Jean doesn't hate it though

Jean learns how to swim and likes it more than he thought he would. he likes the fluidity and movements of the liquid around his skin, how he cuts the water with his body when moving around and how it doesn't hurt him, and he just feels light

Jean likes nutella and chocolate with nuts, because Jeremy used to give it to him after nightmares or difficult days, and it became a comfort food for him (something he wasn’t even allowed to eat in the nest)

Jean's musical taste is a big mess of R&B, soul, pop art, folk, dark pop... he likes artists like Lorde, Aurora, Marina, Sigrid, Sleeping at last and the list goes on

Before he left France, Jean's family had a farm and he was responsible for harvesting fruits and vegetables there. this is one of the last memories he has about France, so he likes to harvest fruits and vegetables whenever he has the chance in the US

Jean loves to read fantasy books. he is a hufflepuff and part of cabin 6 in camp half-blood (children of Athena)

he likes geography. pedology, topography and weather are his favorites. he likes to look at the sky and know how to name climatic phenomena regardless of where in the world he is

(he also likes history and sociology, but only because he can hear Kevin and Jeremy — respectively — talking for hours and hours about those two subjects)

he hates biology

he absolutely hates croissants, tea and coffee. in the morning he always drinks juice or chocolate milk (the latter is Jeremy's fault)

the first time he willingly got wasted on alcohol, he, Sarah and Laila woke Jeremy up in the wee hours of the night while singing in Spanish (Jean barely knows Spanish). he passed out after that and woke up the next day in his room. his first thought was that he was fine even though he lost control of himself around other people, and he cried because of that. Jeremy was concerned because he thought he was crying from a headache or something related to a hangover

Jean can never find shoes his size in conventional stores because he's very big (fucking tall, muscular but not too much, with large shoulders and hips, and eventually a tummy) and, consequently, his feet are also big. he needs to have it personalized and he completely hates it

he loves dogs but is easily scared by them. he couldn't get out of the dorms for almost an entire day after Jeremy's mom's dog barked too loud and it scared Jean. he felt guilty and didn't want people to be mad at him for being so scared of a simple dog

he loves cats though, and after some time into therapy, he adopted a service cat. Kevin and Jeremy always joke about it looking like a replica of Jean himself

Jean doesn't understand the purpose of MMA competitions, because he doesn't like violence and thinks martial arts should be only for self-defense, so he doesn't really understand why people choose to compete over something so aggressive

he also doesn't like the violence in exy, but he forgives because, at least, violence is not the main goal of the sport, but to score points

he learns to draw and starts to open art commissions on the internet. this is his first job and he's proud of it because it was something he achieved by himself

Jean and Jeremy fell in love on the beach

Kevin and Jean take time to forgive each other, especially Jean. the broken heart Kevin left in Jean hurt more than being abandoned by his parents. he suffered from it for years but he didn't really want to blame Kevin. he also knew Riko, after all. he knew how capable of driving someone insane Riko was. it didn't make things easier or less painful though. Kevin and Jean took time, but they never loved each other less

Kevin and Jean fell in love for the second time (the time they could, the time they were allowed) after one of the matches in which their teams were rivals

Jean is very picky for food consistency, and he hates ketchup and mayonnaise for that. he insists all the time that if people knew how to season the food well, they wouldn't need those condiments

(he secretly loves Dijon Mustard though)

Jean was born on 08/31. he’s a virgo

plushies are the first resource that Jean uses when he feels alone but is unable to be around anyone at the moment, so he unconsciously starts making a collection of them. they're all small, except for two that Kevin and Jeremy gave him and are, respectively, a fox and a red and gold trojan. he eventually distributes his plushies to children in local orphanages but keeps those two to himself out of sheer emotional attachment

he doesn't stop suffering because of his trauma throughout his life, but he learns to deal with it. that's the point of everything. he never thinks he will magically forget or get over it, but now he is in a different place in his life and he can start working his way to be the best version of himself he can. he doesn't fool himself into thinking it will be easy and fast, he never thought it would be less difficult than it really was, but he takes things slowly and carefully and hopes it works

his entire healing process is too complex and extensive to explain everything here, but i did the best i could and now i really need to stop because i could stay here ranting for days. xx

#Jean Moreau #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king's men #Jeremy Knox #Kevin Day #USC Trojans #Healing #i love him too much for my own good #this man deserves the whole world and i'll stand for that #Kerejean #Jerejean #Kevjean

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bestie-enthusiast · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: First (Proper) Meetings

This is the first proper chapter of my PTA! Dad Zemo fanfiction, and the 3rd of 11 chapters. The chapter is located under the cut.

Chapter word count: 4265

Fic Summary:

After the untimely death of both his wife and father due to a bombing, Baron Helmut Zemo takes his son and immigrates to America. He does not expect to find a family nor a romantic partner, and he especially does not expect to find the ability to heal. To grieve.

And yet, here we are.

This is a story about connections, growing, healing and mourning the past while still appreciating the future and all it has to offer.

One Year Later

“Come on now, my sonnenschein. AJ and Cass are most certainly already waiting for you.” Zemo told his son as he dragged him out the door. Carl had been having dreams (memories, blood, dust-) about his mother lately, and it had been difficult for both of them, especially considering the new school year was about to begin.

“Yes, papa.” Carl muttered sleepily, getting in and buckling himself when his father told him too. It wasn’t a particularly flashy car, but it did scream luxury, Zemo didn’t particularly care about the coincidental bragging though. He drove Carl to school in silence, letting his son have a few minutes of rest while he did the same. He didn’t sleep of course, just took a few moments to calm himself. It was stressful helping Carl process his dreams (memories, memories, memories-), let alone discussing his late wife. Carl wasn’t young enough when she died to forget her, and he couldn’t decide whether that was fortunate or not.

Zemo sighed and perfectly parked yet again, helping a just-awakened Carl out of the car and handing him his school bag. Now that his school was in sight, Carl had perked up a bit, rushing his papa along rather than the other way around. Zemo watched carefully as he rushed over to AJ and Cass, before looking around for Sarah.

He smiled when he saw her, then grimaced when he noticed who she was talking to. Fucking Carol. Nevertheless, he made his way over. He needed to play nice with Carol in order to keep his role in the Parent-Teacher Association.

“Ladies, always a pleasure.” He greeted with a smirk, which turned into more of a smile at Sarah’s hidden huff of laughter.

“Oh hello, Baron Zemo.” Carol greeted flirtatiously, and he had to hide the way his smile faltered with a glance toward the playground.

“Just Zemo works fine, Mrs. West.” He told her. While he was aware of his title and it’s connections, he did not want to flaunt it, just like his riches. He wanted Carl to live as normal a life as possible, which meant that he would have to do the same, not that he wanted much to do with what his future would have entailed without the unfortunate status of Sokovia. Sarah let out another huff of laughter.

Suddenly a new voice joined them. “Excuse me,” The man said, gently manervouring through them. Zemo knew immediately who it was from the voice, and even if he didn’t, the metal prosthetic was more than enough of a give away.

“It’s fine,” he heard himself say faintly, letting his eyes flicker down the man's whole body. James Barnes was a very attractive man, he thought to himself.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Just in a bit of a rush this morning.” He didn’t leave any time for a reply as he rushed into the school, fumbling with the stack of boxes he was carrying in his arms. Zemo stared at him behind the entire time until he was out of view. He knew he was blushing but he couldn’t help it.

“Well, well, well…” Sarah commented, a sly grin on her face. Carol looked rather huffy though, and cut her off.

“How disrespectful! He shouldn’t even be allowed near the children with his “PTSD.” And that metal arm, I mean think of the children! They shouldn’t know about it, and he should get a more realistic one. That would be far better for the children, not confusing them with his… robot arm.” Carol ranted angrily, her face growing a rather unpleasant shade of red.

“Carol!” One of the playground supervisors shouted in their general direction. “Hunter had another accident!” Carol stormed over in yet another huff, and both Zemo and Sarah let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know where she gets off being all high and mighty like that.” Sarah complained, before her mouth turned into a sly grin once again. “But I do know where you're getting off.” Zemo let out an undignified snort of laughter, covering his mouth in horror as he realised what he had done.

“I have no idea what you mean!” He protested. Sarah was very much like a sister to him, and she was also the reason he was on the PTA board. He enjoyed going to the meetings, especially when it came to fundraisers and budgets for prizes. He wasn’t the type to flaunt his wealth, but in the cases of donations? He would totally out-pay every other parent out there.

“Uh-huh, and you weren’t just ogling at your kid’s teacher’s butt?” She asked teasingly. The bell rang, cutting off their conversation. Despite the fact that it had been a year at this point, he still flinched at the loud, shrill sounding bell that signalled the start of the school day.

“Of course not! That would be incredibly impolite.” He retorted, smiling even as he protested her words. “It is good to see you again, Sarah.” He said quietly as they both watched their children line up together.

“You too, Zee.” She replied, just as soft. “And don’t think I didn’t see those bags under your eyes. Pick up your act or I’ll smack some sense into you.” Zemo ducked his head and blushed at both the nickname and the vaguely threatening nag to take care of himself.

“Apologies, I will ensure that you will not need to “smack some sense into me.” He assured her, knowing that he wasn’t actually going to do anything to sleep better, simply invest in some concealer. He felt bad planning to deceive Sarah like this, but he really was okay, so it didn’t matter. All he was doing was preventing her from worrying, that was a favour, right?

Once all the children were inside the school, he and Sarah said their goodbyes. He walked over to his car, and once in the privacy of it’s tinted windows, dropped his head and took in a deep, shuddering breath. He had no idea how he was going to stay awake and aware through the PTA meeting later that day. It was to discuss how the first day had gone and such, but Zemo really couldn’t care less, especially considering he already had a full day of work ahead of him.

Sighing, he turned on his car and drove home. Oeznik greeted him and took the car keys and his coat. Zemo muttered a thanks and headed to his office, spreading a fake grin on his face as he began his day of online meetings and phone meetings with his accountants, lawyers and business personnel.

The hours dragged by slowly, and he was thankful when the time came to pick Carl up from school. He had gotten Oeznik to go out and purchase him some expensive, good quality concealer, which he generously applied over his eye bags. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he took his coat and keys from Oeznik, and headed to pick up Carl. Oeznik came along so that he could drive Carl home and Zemo could stay for the PTA meeting. He would either walk or call a car home, whichever he was feeling in the aftermath of the meeting.

Oeznik drove, which Zemo was grateful for, not trusting himself to not fall asleep at the wheel. He dozed slightly on the short drive to the school, but never for more than a few minutes. Oeznik quietly called out when they had arrived, and Zemo gracefully stepped from the car, looking every ounce of the baron that he was, and not an exhausted single-dad who was still mourning his wife and probably needed therapy.

“Thank you Oeznik,” he murmured quietly in his native tongue. He was still fluent, as were Oeznik and Carl. Even though Sokvia had technically fallen as a country, cannibalized by its neighbouring countries and removed from the map.

He plastered on a fake smile and took his place beside Sarah in waiting. She was talking to someone on the phone, once he heard the name he knew it was her brother. Sam Wilson. He did not know much about him, just that he left whatever he was doing to join Sarah in raising his nephews.

“Everything okay?” He asked, carefully making sure none of the residual tiredness leaked into his voice. Sarah was very observant when it came to the health of the people around her, so he couldn’t let her see anything at all. No signs that he was unwell in any way. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he did. He just- this was something he needed to deal with himself. He could comfort Carl and talk, he could. It was easier. He could tell Carl that it was okay to cry, that they could talk for as long as he’d like, as much as he’d like, tell him that acceptance wasn’t easy, that it was going to be okay. But when it came to himself, none of that applied.

He should be strong enough to handle it, handle everything. If he couldn’t handle it himself, then how was he meant to help Carl? He needed to stay strong.

He was broken out of his thoughts when Sarah responded. “Yeah, we’re just a bit tight on money at the moment, but Sam is insisting we need to keep the goddamn boat. And don’t you dare go offering anything, we’re fine.” Zemo pursed his lips but nodded, already mentally planning how he was going to get Sarah to accept help; he could, after all, provide more than just financial aid.

The bell rang, he had to make an actual effort to flinch this time, he was very tired, and felt disoriented. Sarah laughed at him, which means he must have done a good job. He blinked harshly a few times to clear his blurring vision. He just had to get through the meeting, or maybe he could skip it and just give the school a generous donation to “help” them forget about it. But then Sarah would worry, so he would suffer through it.

AJ and Cass came rushing out, with Carl trailing behind them, clearly tired. Although he perked up once his papa waved at him. He rushed at him, and just like always, Zemo scooped him up and gave him a hug, before gently setting him on the ground. The PTA meeting technically started fifteen minutes after the school day let out, but most members took longer, and no one ever commented, except Carol, because they all had kids, or taught kids, and understood.

Zemo led Carl over to the car, helping him in and telling Oeznik that Carl could take a short nap before completing any school work. Oeznik nodded and Zemo started his walk back down to the school. The secretary buzzed him in before he could even ask, and he gave her a polite smile as he made his way over to the teachers lounge turned PTA meeting room. He blinked heavily, staring at the door for a second. He was contemplating just turning around when he heard a voice behind him.

“Are you just going to stand there or…?” It was James, and Zemo blinked again, struggling to find his voice.

“My apologies.” He replied quietly, “Just debating whether or not I want to deal with Carol today.” He quipped, opening the door for James to enter. He put on his best smile and straightened his posture. It was time to put on his mask of “Insufferable PTA dad who knows he’s better than you.”

The only other people here so far were staff and Carol, who was sitting in the seat directly beside his usual one. His smile grew even faker and more tense as he reluctantly sat down. Carol was the type of rich person who flaunted it, even though she had never actually had a job before, and all of her money was from her father and her husband's father.

“Hey, Helmut~” She said in a flirtatious voice, and he couldn’t hold back the flinch at her butchered pronunciation of his first name. She said it like an American, not the way it was meant to be pronounced in its language of origin.

“Hello, Mrs. West.” He greeted quietly, hoping that she wouldn’t be like this the whole time. “And like I’ve said numerous times before this, it is just Zemo.” He hoped that she would finally accept the fact that he preferred to be referred to as just his last name, but that hope was quickly crushed.

“But I like Helmut!” She shouted, pouting, once again butchering the pronunciation. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, calming himself. He had to stay polite and perfect. He had an image to maintain.

“Mrs. West-” He began, but was cut off by a snort.

“Your name is Helmut?” James asked incredulously, looking at him in exasperation. “What kind of rich person name is that?”

Zemo took another breath to calm and compose himself. “That is not the correct pronunciation, and it is not a traditionally “rich person” name as you put it, Mr. Barnes.” Zemo gently corrected, trying not to let any anger seep through his carefully constructed words. “And I prefer to go by my last name. Just my last name. Zemo.”

James hummed in consideration, and Carol let out a huff at her flirtations having fallen short. Zemo struggled to keep his eyes open in the lull of conversation as they waited for their final members, Sarah among them.

When Sarah arrived she took the seat on the other side of him, and he almost cried in relief at having a familiar, friendly face. It seemed that while James was nice to look at, he had some sort of dislike for upper-class people, which Zemo knew was not uncommon. Not that it didn’t hurt, being judged for something he personally had no control over.

But that's beside the point. The meeting started, and people started talking. Zemo kept himself awake by repeatedly pinching his hand, squeezing the soft flesh tightly everytime his focus started to slip. Several of the mothers attending tried to make flirty conversation with him, but he politely shut them down. All of them were married women, and he was not going to get involved with a married woman. Nor any woman for that matter, or man. He was not planning on ever seeking out a long term connection, not after Heike.

The meeting dragged on and Zemo, while occasionally participating, mostly stayed quiet. It wasn’t as though he was extraordinarily vocal at these meetings anyway, but he was more quiet than normal.

“I know you think I’m a dream but pinching yourself is not the right way to prove it.” A husky voice murmured to him. He looked over to see that Carol had physically gotten up to rant at some point, and James had taken her seat.

Zemo blinked in confusion. He was pretty sure James was flirting with him, which seemed unlikely, considering the man's attitude when they last spoke.

“More like this meeting is a nightmare I want to wake up from,” he replied, keeping voice as quiet as James. Carol had grown louder in her shrieking and it was giving him a headache. Well, at least now he couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to.

“Carol.” He said just loud enough to interrupt her and gain everyone else's attention, but he did not yell. Yelling was unfitting of a man of his stature. Baron’s do not yell, they command a room with silence, or with patience and a steady voice.

“Yes, Zemo?” Carol asked, eyes going half lidded and practically turning into hearts. He gave her a patient smile back, like she was a toddler too excited to wait.

“I’m afraid I have a rather potent headache at the moment,” he said, perfectly coaching his expression into something a tad more vulnerable than normal. “And I would greatly appreciate it if you could keep your-” ‘temper tantrum’ he thought to himself “-louder ideas, for the next meeting?” He pushed as much pain and tiredness into his eyes and smile as he could, which was a lot at the current moment.

Carol looked properly scolded and shrunk in slightly. “Sorry, Zemo.” She said quietly, sitting in James' original seat since he was still in hers.

“It’s fine. Thank you.” He replied, giving her a tight smile. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, and hoped it was because he got Carol to be quiet and not because of his admission of a headache. He could feel James staring at him, so he looked at him, tilted his head so that only James could see his face, and gave him a smirk. He hoped it wasn’t too obviously fake, and it seemed like it was real enough because James let out a huff of laughter (and oh how that made his heart soar) and turned away.

The meeting continued on for a while longer before everyone packed up. He had recorded the audio of the whole meeting on his phone, so he didn’t worry about missing anything. He was looking forward to listening to Carol’s rant a second time, but he did catch James’ laughter. He smiled giddily at the thought.

“What made you so happy?” Sarah asked from behind him as they were leaving the school.

“I got Carol to shut up.” He responded, biting his lip. He knew that if Sarah knew the true reason behind his smile she would never drop it.

“Uh huh.” She replied teasingly, before saying her goodbyes. They parted ways and he decided to walk home. He had just started walking when he heard loud, fast approaching footsteps behind him. He instinctively stepped out of the way and put himself into a loose fighting stance. Despite his now good mood, he was still very much sleep deprived and high strung. Thankfully the person, who he saw was Carol, had not attempted to grab him in any way. If she had, he probably would have broken her arm, or at the very least tried too.

“Hey Zeze!” Carol shouted, and he winced, both at the nickname and her shrill voice.

“Just Zemo, Mrs. West. And what can I do for you?” He asked, still perfectly polite. He would not allow himself to be anything but perfectly polite in any situation, public or otherwise.

“Well I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you after you declared having such a horrific headache!” She declared, following just a step behind him as he started to speed walk towards his home. Then realised if he led her to his house she would never stop showing up. He pulled out his phone and called Oeznik, ignoring Carol when she asked what he was doing.

“Oeznik, come pick me up. A lady won’t leave me alone. She is not a threat, but a nuisance.” He explained, talking in Sokovian as to not insult Carol in a language she could understand. Carol was quiet as he talked to Oeznik, who said he’d bring a car right away.

“Thank you, old friend.” Zemo replied and hung up. “My apologies Carol, it was a serious matter. My butler will be around shortly to pick me up, so I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this conversation short.” She blinked and he noticed how she seemed dazed when he mentioned his butler. Was she not as rich as he thought?

“Whatever.” Carol huffed insolently, and strutted away. Zemo let himself relax just a little bit, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He flinched when someone put a hand on his shoulder and reflexively defended himself. His vision was blurry and he was almost certain he was a minute away from passing out, but he could not allow himself to get caught off guard.

“Woah!” The person exclaimed, and Zemo blinked. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve just been standing here awhile, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Zemo stared at the person, it was James. He had just attacked James after staring at nothing like an insane person.

“M-My apologies.” He stuttered out, “I am just waiting for my ride. You startled me.” Zemo had no idea how to explain what was actually going on. How do you tell your son’s teacher that you haven't slept for more than a few hours a night for almost a month and were practically delirious with sleep deprivation, which had caused you to disassociate, and then when he touched your shoulder your brain thought he was a Nazi so it made you flip out? That's right. You don’t. “Mm. Well since we’re both already here, I wanted to talk to you about Carl?” Zemo froze, had something happened? “I read the note you sent with him and just wanted to let you know that the school has a counseling program that I am required to recommend.” James continued with a huff of laughter at the end.

“Well thank you, but I assure you and your requirements that Carl is already seeing a licensed therapist.” Zemo replied. Despite the rocky start to the conversation, just being around James made his heart and head happy.

“Are you?”

“Parodon?” Zemo asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Are you seeing a therapist?” James clarified. Zemo blinked in shock. No one had asked him that before. Well Oeznik had, but not again once Zemo had told him no. His entire world revolved around Carl and keeping him happy, so wasting time and resources on therapy for himself would be pointless.

“No.” Zemo answered, keeping it short and to the point. He was not, and it was not up for debate.

“I see.” James responded, pursuing his lips. “This may be out of line, but I don’t particularly care. Have you considered seeing a therapist? I think it might benefit your son if he saw that you were also actively taking measures to keep your mental health in a good place.” Zemo blinked, having to make an actual effort to keep the smile on his face.

“Well, thank you for your opinion. I will take it into consideration.” He wouldn’t but that doesn’t matter. It would keep James happy and Carl would stay happy, and he wouldn’t be happy but what does that matter? Keeping everyone else happy was key to staying in control.

“Right.” James sounded like he didn’t believe him, but Oeznik pulled up right after. Zemo held out his hand for a shake.

“It was nice conversing with you, Mr. Barnes. Please, do let me know if you have any more concerns regarding Carl.” Zemo said as James shook his hand.

“Of course, and just Bucky, please.”

Zemo nodded and ducked into the passenger seat of the car. Oeznik was in the driver's seat, and Carl was sitting in the back. As Carl started to excitedly tell him all about his day, Zemo allowed himself to drift into a semi-conscious state.

When they arrived back home, Oeznik started on dinner preparations and Zemo went over all of Carl’s school work with him, before sending him off to play in his room until dinner. After checking in on Carl, who was playing superheroes, he headed into his office. While everything regarding the legal side of his finances and immigrant status in the US was technically complete, he still had to manage his own finances and continue adding to Carl’s trust fund. There was always work to be done, especially when you were a baron. So while waiting for dinner, he worked on some paperwork. The mindless task felt numbing, in a good way. It was simple, but he did need to be present for it, meaning that his brain was flooded by words and numbers instead of thoughts of Sokovia and his wife. Oeznik called for both him and Carl, so he gracefully exited his office, intercepting Carl on the way down to tell him to go wash his hands. He waited for his son, before they walked down the stairs together and into the private dining room. They had a dining hall for guests and meetings, but also a family dining room for their everyday meals. Today Zemo quietly asked Oeznik to stay, which he did. They enjoyed a family dinner, and Zemo could feel his emotional state improving every minute he spent with his son.

After dinner was completed, Zemo ran a bath for Carl and kept an ear on him while finishing up some paperwork. Once Carl had finished Zemo helped him get dressed, brushed his hair and sent him to go brush his teeth. After Carl had done that, he tucked him in and quietly told him stories about Sokovia, speaking Sokovian of course. Carl quickly fell asleep and Zemo just watched him for a few minutes, soaking in every detail of his perfect son.

He took a long shower, letting the water wash away the pains of his day. He completed his extensive skin care routine and eventually found his way into bed. He stared up at his ceiling for a long time, just thinking.

It took quite some time, but he did manage to fall asleep, for a few hours at least. Carl slept through the whole night for once, but he didn't. He woke up only a few hours after he had initially fallen asleep and had been unsuccessful in his attempts to fall back asleep. He sighed, and headed into his office.

If he couldn’t sleep, then he might as well work.

Tagging @morganbritton132 (Who created this AU) and @i-ll-be-the-moon (Who is a supportive friend and likes my writing <3)

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urmysilverlining · 4 years ago

Text

Demons

- Your eyes, they shine so bright, I want to save their light

I can’t escape this now, unless you show me how -

“Mac, please don’t-”

Detecting your will to prevent Mac from taking that hard choice, Taylor held your arms and pulled you back away.

“Leave me!” you wagged, with all your strength left.

Heat statistics were finally dropping. “What have you done?” you whispered, the same moment Mac pressed the red button.

No answer. You three just stood there: witnesses of the death of a good man who was just trying to do his job, in order to save the city and his family. Not moving his eyes from the screen until the very end, Mac half turned to you, lowering his gaze right after. Russ lose the hold on you, and you got close to the screens and those deadly buttons. But the “reverse” button wasn’t on that console.

“There had to be another way!” you burst out.

“Y/N, that was the only way-”

“It’s okay, Russ.” Mac stopped your British colleague with a little hint of his hand, then turning to you: “Y/N, if you want to fight me, if you hate me...I won’t blame you.”

Russ newly set it, trying to calm spirits down: “It was him or the city. It’s mathemat-”

You screamed: “Well, fuck math! When guilt of having watched a man dying without moving a finger will strike tonight, it won’t be math that’s going to help me sleep”

——————————————————————————

You lay your hand on the shower’s silver knob and turn it on. The warm water jet hits your skin as you close your eyes.

The feeling of two strong arms rounding your waist, and pulling you in. Back against his chest, you rest your head on Mac’s shoulder. His breath caresses your neck’s skin as he whispers something that makes you smile. He can literally make you smile out of nothing. You look at him through your wet eyelashes, and meet his blue eyes. The same blue eyes stuck on that screen, so still, despite of being filled by tears.

You open your eyes with a gasp. When this job has become so complicated? You remember times of getting home to drink a beer with Mac and your friends around the fire pit. Evenings, holidays, birthdays filled by jokes and laughters.

You close the water and get out of the shower. With just a towel wrapped around your body shape, you walk around the house, alone, in the darkness. You head for the kitchen, take a bottle of wine and drink a couple of glasses: the ultimate remedy to make you sleep since your thoughts had become more persistent.

The bruise of the door opening and the light from the street get your attention. Mac leaves his keys on the little dish and walks in the kitchen, sure of you already being sleeping.

He slightly widens his eyes seeing you standing there.

“Hey, you still awake?”

Despite of you not having been the best in showing your affection lately, you still want Mac to find a caring person when he gets home. You’re tired of falling asleep alone and waking up to him sleeping on the couch.

“Guess who couldn’t fall asleep without you by her side?” you speak softly, putting your arms around his neck.

He’s surprised by your reaction, but a genuine half smile shows up anyways.

You go on, joking: “I’ve heard you always coming back late from work these past nights. Has Matty been covering you with work or is it just you and Russ looking for conspiracy theories as usual?”

After a silent moment, he cautiously answers: “Since you seemed to need more space, I offered Matty to finish some extra work.”

“Well, if this means you doing crazy hour at work, I am not okay with it anymore.”

Mac spots a drop of water falling from your hair, and follows with his thumb its path down your neck, collarbone, shoulder. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t deserve you.” he whispers, kissing you where he started.

You breath out of relieve of that much needed contact. He grips the towel on your sides pulling you closer, as you cup his face moving down to the collar of his shirt. His hands run up your back, to stop below your nape, fingers locking in your wet hair. You kiss him fondly for a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

Detaching his lips from yours and giving you a corned look, Mac murmurs: “Have you drunk?”

“Just a couple of glasses before you got home” you state, without giving too much weight to that detail.

As you get closer for another kiss, he takes up the subject: “Why?”

“I felt really tense and I thought this could have helped us to relax” you caress his arms, trying to keep a contact with him.

“Wow, I am such a fool. I really thought all of this came naturally. That you needed to be with me again.”

He walks towards his room, letting the distance between you grow.

Not being able to keep the true for yourself any longer, you explode: “It’s just, it’s just I keep seeing that man falling on the ground, dying under our eyes, again and again. The image on that screen is stuck on my mind. But I don’t want this to ruin everything between us.”

“Well, it already happened. You stopped seeing me in the same way after that day. You are barely able to look me in the eyes. I know that you blame me for that death...”

“I’m just scared this job could have changed us. I feel like I can’t move on, not yet, at least.”

Tears fall from your eyes as Mac answers: “You’re right. I’ve changed, and it’s wrong making you to accept what I turned into.” ------------------------------------------------------------

“So, how’s your relationship going? Have you managed to fix things with your partner?”

“Pretty bad.” You answer your therapist’s question “I’ve tried to establish a connection with him, instead of keeping avoiding the problem, as you suggested me, but it didn’t work out very well. I feel like I ruined everything.”

“Why do you talk like this?”

“I had drunk, then we had a moment but he noticed it and thought everything happened just because I wan’t completely sober. But it’s not like that, I really wanted to be close to him as we used to. Then, I told him how I felt since we came back from that mission and he started saying I blame him from all that happened back then...” You massage your temples, closing your eyes and forcing you to breath in and out regularly.

“Y/N, it has been awhile now, and I’ve read all the files about your past missions multiple times...Could it be you can’t get over what your partner was obliged to do, because you still can’t forgive yourself for that one time you had to take the same decision by yourself?”

One tear fall from your eyes: “I had promised to myself that I would have never let that happen again...”

Before you can add other words, Matty breaks in the room: “Y/N, I’m sorry to interrupt your session, but we need you on the field, now...”

“O-okay” You discreetly wipe your tear and get up, nodding to your therapist and to your boss.

“They’ll explain you as you go. Now please take this and leave it in the war room.” Matty handles you a file and disappears in an office of the Phoenix’s base.

Once in the war room, you lay it on the small table and look for your bag to put away files from your past missions and your therapist’s report about the sessions. You’ll consign them to Matty after the mission.

“Y/N, we need to go” Mac enters in the room.

“Yes, I just need to arrange some things”

“Please, just do it later” he prompts you.

“Okay, but remember me to pick up these things before going home” you reply, leaving all the dossiers on the table and following him out.

------------------------------------------------------------

Despite of the tiredness due to the long day and mission, you keep replaying the words of your therapist and the memories that they made surface on your mind, on a loop.

You get in the hallway and stand in front of Mac’s door. You raise your fist, ready to knock. Once done, you receive no answer. You change your mind multiple times, repetitively approaching the door and stumbling back, until you lower the hold and get in. You look for a sign from Mac, but he seems peacefully asleep on his side. Your gut tells you to go on, so you crawl on the mattress and lie next to him.

Rubbing an hand on his face, Mac asks: “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Checking you’re okay.” you whisper.

“I am. Good night.” He lets slide an arm under the pillow, and close his eyes.

You caress his hair, then his cheeks, noticing he cried: “I knew something was wrong. But I won’t let you face your demons alone”

“That’s not on you, Y/N. I made my choices and have to take the burden.”

“It was the right choice. I’ve always known it. I guess I wasn’t able to forgive myself for something I did much time ago, and seeing you doing the same was like history repeating without having the power to change things.”

“Y/N, I have to confess you a thing...”

“Of course”

“You left those files in the war room today, and then you forgave to recollect them, so I thought to bring them back home for you...I opened one of them to see if it was work related, and then I read they were about you having suffered from PTSD in the past and resuming therapy...I’m so sorry, that was so not me, but I wanted to know you were okay...”

“Mac, you don’t have to worry about me” you reply.

“So why you didn’t you tell me you were seeing a therapist? I’ve read you talked to her about us. I could have helped you. I could have come with you.”

“Mac, we haven’t talked a lot lately, don’t you think? It would have been unfair to let you know about my problems, seen what you were going through, too...”

“Okay, but why you never talked to me about that mission? The one you had to shoot to that girl?”

“I should have done it, I know. I should have let you know everything about my past, so you could have chosen if staying or leaving. It’s just, when I met you everything changed. It took me so much time to move on, that I wasn’t ready to share this with anybody. Relieve all the guilt, the pain...”

“I wouldn’t have changed my mind on you, even if I knew that.” he reassures you.

“Well, maybe I can tell you now...”

“You don’t have to do it-“

You interrupt him: “I want...Me and the team I worked with at that time were following a group of terrorists. Late teenagers brainwashed since young age, in order to make them enroll and commit crimes. We had been reported they would have attacked civilians on a public event. Once on the place, the situation escalated quickly. They have already hurt some people, my colleagues were able to separate and catch most of them, but it missed a girl. I was able to follow her and noticed she got a very dangerous weapon with her, one able to make way worst damages than what they had already caused to those people. As soon as I got her under fire, I shot to kill. The stakes were too high. I didn’t think about it twice. Just when paramedics brought away her body, I realised. If she only was born elsewhere, or met different people, maybe she would still be alive, she would have had a family... »

« So why do we feel so bad? It’s like I can’t go back to be the person I was, the person you loved. » Mac asks, resigned.

« The person I love is right in front of me. I love you, Mac, and nothing in this world will ever change that. »

« Neither me deciding who lives and who dies? »

“ You would have never done it, if there only had been another way. It would have been less painful for you to sacrifice yourself, rather than pressing that button. And your tears make a clear example of it.” “Yeah...”

“I wish I would have acted in your place to save you this feeling...” As you cup his face and kiss him, Mac takes you under his arm like you were his last and most important thing left.

“Do you trust me?” you wonder.

“With all my life.” he replies.

“Nothing inside of you has ever changed.”

#macgyver #angus macgyver #angus macgyver x reader #macgyver x reader #mac x reader #macgyver reboot #macgyver 2016 #macgyver fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #macgyver fanfiction #macgyver fanfic

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blonkk · 3 years ago

Text

i wish i wasn’t myself i mean after every single interaction or word that comes out of my mouth i want to rip my skin off. i fucking hate being a specimen like being treated like an experiment oh you’re depressed go on zoloft. oh it stopped working go on trazadone. oh that makes you black out for 15 hours in a row so that will cure your chronic insomnia but here go on cypralex. oh you have menstrual irregularities go on birth control. oh you’re sexually active have a pap smear (maybe this one’s different but idk i hate being probed and treated like a lab rat). one doctor literally said to me he thought it’s time i get a boyfriend (i think i was 21 or 22 at the time). yeah it’s low iron take these supplements. oh the insomnia is still there do a sleep study. six months from now. in another six months i’m told “there’s nothing wrong you you just have reverse sleep syndrome, best you can do is just try to find a night job and live the rest of your life like a fucking owl.” you’re 16 and you have PCOS. you’re 26 and wait now scratch that it wasn’t PCOS at all! silly us. we don’t know what it is tho our bad. yes you definitely qualify for a psychiatrist. just to be told after years of being on a waiting list and screened for months at the very first meeting with said medical professional that i “don’t really need this and there’s no point in continuing.” ok ok things are starting to make sense you’ve got adhd. try 10 now 20 now 50 mg of vyvanse and good news it will reduce your appetite so you’ll lose weight 2 birds in 1 stone right? (my doctor actually said this to me). hmmm things keep coming up, there’s a possibility of mild OCD and probable autism. autism. you are showing telltale signs of autism

i cannot take it anymore i don’t want to be a lifelong patient fr i’m gonna be coke a hypochondriac. the scariest thing is that i think the autism thing might be real the more i think ab how i feel in social settings and how i hate talking to people and never feel like i belong and things i say get misinterpreted and i can’t read social cues….i want to be fucking normal but the more that i get dismissed or randomly diagnosed and prescribed different random shit the more hopeless i feel like whyyyy can’t i just be normal. i was at a relatives place tonight and more people than i thought were there and i had to talk to people i don’t know and when i wasn’t stretching myself thin by making polite tedious conversation and wanting to kill myself after every word i said because i never seem to be able to read the room right i was trying not to cry because there were too many people and i was completely overwhelmed. literally i hate it so much but i’m gonna be 27…. what does it even matter anymore? i’ve made it this far being fucking sick all the time and socially fucking vacant and not fitting in anywhere with anyone so i can pretty much just keep doing it. i just wish he gave me one fucking thing lol he had to make me fat annoying permanent insomniac mentally ill and apparently “neurodivergent” and weird like bro just one fucking win would be nice. like i’m too anxious to even be dependent on substances like i’m so sorry if this is fucked up but i wish could use drugs and drinking to cope but i can’t because my brain doesn’t let me relax for five fucking seconds so smoking weed makes me paranoid as hell and i literally have some sort of blockage in my brain that prevents me from getting drunk. plus i’m too anxious to ever fully lose control it’s way too terrifying for me.

basically i’m wound up tighter than a spring and self medicating is out so i just cope by coping which is getting kinda fucking hard. what happens when i lose my student coverage, how the fuck am i gonna afford my drugs?? i’m already way over my therapy coverage and see her biweekly and now only monthly. i live my life in a constant state of exhaustion and interrupted functioning as a result of not sleeping, anxiety and apparently being fucking adhd plus whatever the fuck else. i’m too tired to keep finding new ways to manage like i can’t manage anymore. i wonder if there’s really nothing wrong or if over the past 11 years no doctor has really ever been able to do their fucking job. and tell me what the fuck is wrong with me. i don’t want to be anything i don’t want to be medicated or sedated i want to be normal and go to sleep when i’m tired and smile when i’m happy and cry when i’m sad and eat when i’m hungry and speak when i have something to say. i don’t understand bro why couldn’t i have just one fucking thing!!!!!

#sorry #i’m tired #i don’t like being diagnosed but never like #actually fixed #i hate being labeled #i hate being dismissed #i don’t want any sympathy #i want a fucking brain scan #i want someone to rewire my shit #i don’t want more #medication #if i have down bad bitch disease just tell me #if i’m just a weird little freak tell me #why can’t anyone figure it out #prescribe me something useful like a paid sabbatical to the welsh seaside #i’m gonna join a cult just to feel something i stg

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miyosamu · 5 years ago

Text

Giyuu x Male!Hashira: getting injured

upon his return to the hashira’s base, the first thing he noticed was how several officers, he recognized them as the nurses from shinobu’s, were running around in mayhem.

from experience, he knew that this meant that one of the hashira’s was severely injured, and thus a sense of dread he tried to suppress settled into the bottom of his stomach as he thought of who it might be

the only thing that he knew for sure is that he hoped it wasn’t you.

out of all the hashiras, you’re the only one giyuu can confidently say he has a solid relationship with.

and lately, he thinks it’s been bordering on something further than friendship

before you guys were sent off on your individual missions you had told him that you wanted to take him to an upcoming festival that’s being held in the next town

he remembers your face when he had told you he’s never been to a festival. you decided to take it upon yourself to show him the joy of mini-games, food stands, and fireworks

the fact that you cared for him and went as far as trying to get him to experience things he never did really warmed his heart

after everything he’s been through, after being in this line of work for as long as he’s been, joy wasn’t something he ever thought he’d experience again

but for a split second, sometimes when he’s with you, like when he heard you were gonna take him to a festival when you got back, he thinks he’ll be able to find joy with you

you gave him hope

but right now

as he watched the nurses rushing around yelling for medications and herbs, hearing your name in the midst of it all, it numbed him to the core

-well, that was shortlived- he thought

he felt sick to his stomach and got dizzy. he had to numb all his emotions to prevent himself from panicking and reliving what he experienced from a previous loss

he grabbed one of the nurses and told them to take him to where you were, and despite knowing that he couldn’t get in until their procedure was done, he just wanted to be as close as he could

he was torn, he neither wanted to be optimistic and give himself false hope nor did he want to think about the worst outcome

so he just blanked out and sat by the door

after an hour passed though he felt increasingly restless and decided that he had to do something

he walked outside and picked up flowers in your favourite colour and hoped you weren’t allergic to them and he’d accidentally kill you

…

he was stressed ok

by the time he found a fitting vase for the flowers and returned to where you were, they were done with the procedure successfully and they informed him that you weren’t gonna die but will be bedridden for a while

which was more than he could ever hope for

the weight that had been threatening to crush him the entire time alleviated and he visibly relaxed

and when giyuu walked into your room, no one could get him to get out

like ever

he insists he will stay by your side even if you were asleep the entire time

and again, while he was sitting beside your bed he felt the need to do something again

so he got some cool water and a soft towel that he regularly soaked in said water before placing it on your forehead

did you have a fever? no.

did you need it in any way, shape, or form? no.

but giyuu did it anyway

he rationalized it to himself as well, convinced himself that it’s been getting more humid so this will help you keep cool

he’s baby

please he’s trying his best he just wants you back

you were asleep for three whole days and because he was adamant about staying by your side they just let him have a bed beside yours

he developed this habit of playing with your hands whenever he became absentminded sitting by your side

he’d talk to you too. tell you stories

he’ll tell you about how his mission went

he’ll tell you about this butterfly that for some reason kept chasing inosuke the entire day

giyuu would surprise himself with the amount he’s talked

it made him realise how it was mostly you who carried the conversations that you two had

he really missed you

and as he reminisced on those memories you had woken up and squeezed his hand that had been holding yours

giyuu would jump to his feet at the sight of your open eyes and he’d be so overcome with emotions

he was happy he was angry he was so pent up and his emotions were in a swirl he didn’t know if he should lecture you about being careful or if he should yell at you to never do that again

so the only thing he could do was hug you, mindful of your injury, and say “from now on, we’re going on missions together.”

as you slowly started gaining your energy back and as you were able to stay awake for longer periods giyuu kept getting happier and happier

your health -> improves == giyuu -> happy boi

HE’D BE !!!! SO PROUD !!!

LIKE YOU’D BE SITTING UP ON THE BED EATING YOUR LUNCH AND TALKING UP A STORM AND HE’D LOOK AT YOU LIKE THIS:

no one:

giyuu: that’s my boy look at him he has a healthy glow to his skin, he’s eating well, he looks great laughing and talking with me

he’d be at your beck and call the entire time and i say you should take advantage of that

omg he’d show you the flowers he’d picked for you and get so happy with a cute little flush to his cheeks when you tell him you love them

listen

praise him

tell him he did a good job

just do it

tell him the flowers make you happy

tell him the cool towel really helped you

tell him that you‘re happy he stayed by your side and made you feel less lonely

reassurance is sexy

and he needs a lot of it

you had apologized to him about missing the festival you promised to take him in but he brushed it off quickly, telling you that he was just happy with you being here with him

you had told him how you were excited to see him in a kimono and how unfortunate it is that you missed the opportunity because of a stupid injury

and in all honesty, you had kinda said it just offhandedly

but giyuu took it to heart so he stood up and excused himself

just to come back an hour or so later wearing a striped dark blue kimono that he just went to town to buy just for you

hE’S SO CUTE

COMPLIMENT HIM

when you complimented him, he just stood there blushing not really knowing how to respond

he approached your bed and brought a bag that he had hidden behind his back

“i bought one for you too”

giyuu,,, i would die for you

he’d help you into your own kimono and you just had a makeshift date in your room and it was on of the best dates you’ve ever had tbh

giyuu is awkward and hesitant about everything regarding this but it just makes him look adorable

by the end of the night, giyuu, surprisingly, took initiative and gave you a soft kiss on the lips

when he pulled back he asked if that was okay to do and you reassured him by kissing again

a bit harder this time

you’d feel him smile into the kiss and he’d wrap his arms around you to bring you closer

you ended up cuddling that night and giyuu had asked “does this make you my boyfriend?”

and you chuckled softly and ran your fingers through his hair and told him that yes, this means you’re his boyfriend and he is yours

giyuu was asked to go to a mission the day after and he wanted to send someone else to do it but you were like

giyuu no this is a hashira-level mission you have to be the one who does it

he begrudgingly caves and is very pouty about it

the mission took him a week in total; traveling took most of his time than the actual mission itself and he was complaining to himself the whole way to and from

he finished the mission rather quickly because he was pissed at the demon that pulled him away from you at such a crucial time

when he got back he got even CLINGIER than he was before he left

he was just following you around like a puppy with their favourite human

you’re his favourite human

if you developed scars from you injury giyuu would kiss them anytime he saw them

when you’re changing or cuddling he’d just lean in and kiss them

giyuu got too used to sleeping by your side that he now struggles when you’re not with him

your relationship just solidified so much more during this period

now everyone knows that you and giyuu are a thing because of the way he was acting

he’d PDA without really knowing he’s PDA-ing

after you completely heal he’d take you to a hot spring because those feel nice and are super good for you

plus he thinks it’d be romantic

physical therapy to regain your stamina has been brutal so the hot spring felt heavenly to your sore muscles

you stayed the night at the spring’s lodge and it was just such a private and intimate setting

giyuu loves to hold you close to his chest and wrap his arms around you cuz it’s both a protective position and also a “he’s my treasure and i cherish him a lot” position

when you start going on missions again you start doing most of them together

and giyuu loves those missions the most because you two can look after each other but you can also spend a lot of private time when you’re traveling so much

he just he cares you ok

#Kimetsu no Yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu x male reader #hashira x reader #kny #kny x reader #kny x male reader #kimetsu no yaiba x male reader #giyuu tomioka

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drawbauchery · 5 years ago

Text

The Second Session

fic by cartoons-tothemoon

“So, let’s review, last session, we broke you down to many of your core traits and neuroses.”

“Thanks for reminding me, it’s not like I have the capacity to remember last week.” Skipper muttered.

“Well, now we’re here to build you back up, and work from that onwards.” Hans said. He had his hands folded plainly in his lap, and he’d changed the lighting in the office. Skipper hated it. He hated having to sit across from a smug as shit Hans as he waited calmly and quietly for Skipper to begin talking, with that terrible, blinding light that gave off a strangely clinical feel that makes him more uneasy than anything else. He wonders if Hans would let him sleep for the hour he was meant to spend here. Sure, he’d be paying $35 for a nap, which was crazy in of itself, but he knows from experience that sometimes all you need is a good nap to be a functioning person again.

“I’m not in the position to really diagnose you with anything, and even if I was, I’d still need more time to get to know your mind before I could really prescribe anything for your current conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“Plural. Like children trying to sneak into a cineplex in a trench coat, what was once one turned out to be two or more disorders standing on top of one another’s shoulders. Bouts of aggression and insomnia tied to intense paranoia, a complex that comes from being a leader, and a fear of depending on others. Abandonment issues, repression-“

Skipper waved his hands in a forceful sort of wave, “yes, thank you. Just tell me what to do about it already.”

“What?”

“Just fix me already.” Skipper seemed frustrated. “You’re the one who thinks I’m broken in the first place, the only reason I’m here in the first place is to prevent any future surprise tea parties.”

Hans sighed. They were barely even 5 minutes in, and Hans just knew he was going to be spending the rest of the session constructing arguments for statements Skipper constructed in seconds.

“If this was only to prevent any more…surprise visits from moi, then I would’ve been fine with just the first session. And I think you know that.”

He did. He did know that. Hans suggested the idea of a second session, and so did Skipper, in the way that you do when you’re bonding with people you have a rather hostile history with. No commitment was really stated, which left the ball in Skipper’s court, but what was he supposed to do after that thorough deconstruction, let it simmer in his soul for the rest of his known life?

He couldn’t even let it simmer for a whole week at this point, after all, he was already considering asking RICO of all people if he was too arrogant a leader and intentionally pushing people away.

RICO.

It made sense at the time, Kowalski would question where he was learning such jargon and be able to draw conclusions based on his recent absence, and Private would do nothing but validate him. Because he was just that nice, he supposed.

“Second, it’s not about being “broken” or “fixed” or what have you, the fact of the matter is that you have the most high-stress job in your already high-stress career. As much as I enjoyed our battles in the fish markets of Denmark, it’s not like the experience hasn’t done something to me, or you for that matter.”

Hans sighed, he was already just so exhausted by this…session. He’d even revealed that he too shared in mental health struggles if Skipper was willing to pick up the scraps left behind for him. Skipper looked a little surprised, sure, but fell back into an understood complacency sooner than later.

Was this the closest they were ever going to get to a true understanding of the other?

He supposed he’d have to take it.

“And lastly, I can’t tell you how to “fix” yourself. I’m a therapist, not a life coach. I’m not here to give advice, I’m here to examine your trauma, and give you a better perspective on how to move forward. However, I can’t take those steps for you. You kinda have to figure out a lot of those things on your own.”

Skipper looked positively moody about this, but less in a spoiled, petulant five-year-old sort of way, and more…accepting of it. He looked tired, and less because it was barely just a quarter past 1. It was an abstract tiredness, one not born of resting or restlessness, but a thing all its own.

Skipper sighed. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“This is a timely process for a reason, Skipper. Many people can spend years in therapy trying to handle these exact issues.”

“I didn’t realize this was a life sentence in the making.” Skipper muttered.

God, this was already such a process. Hans could tell that Skipper couldn’t stand the vagueness of this all. He was an action guy, he wanted an easy solution of doing task A to accomplish thing B, and achieve reward C, and go on with his life.

No, not even an easy solution. A clear solution. Skipper was a problem solver. All of this was already so abstract, and he didn’t even know if he was so vehemently against this whole process just because it was him, or just because it was therapy at all. He even had a client who after a bad experience with a therapist in middle school decided to turn her sessions into stand-up, just because she was already so familiar and so bored with the process.

Maybe that’s what he needed to channel. Therapy in of itself was at the best of times uncomfortable and at the worst of times boring. He was already dealing with a high energy, high stress client, who was uncomfortable as all hell with being there. If he put him back into a comfortable situation, he may or may not get something out of him, and if he doesn’t, at the very least make him more comfortable with spending time with him at all, off the clock, at least.

“What do you like to do, Skipper? In your free-time?”

Skipper eyed him suspiciously. “Uh, why?”

“I’m trying something. Trust me here.”

That could’ve been phrased SO much better, from nemesis to nemesis, but Skipper seemed willing in the moment to run with that trust. “I like working on my combat capabilities, driving around, sometimes I watch TV and movies, I help Private bake when he feels like it, I nap, I gamble…”

Skipper seemed to be drawing a blank for whatever reason. Surely, he had things he did in his free time, right? It wasn’t like he was ALWAYS on the clock, he just never really thought of certain periods of time as…free. What even counted as free-time anyhow? Was it just time that wasn’t spent doing other things? Under that definition, no time was free.

“Can I say this to you as both a friend, an enemy, and somebody who’s known you for quite a few years at this point?”

Skipper nodded hesitantly.

“Jesus Christ, you need some hobbies.” Hans stated, matter of factly. “Working on your “combat capabilities,” as you put it, seems to be a literal constant considering your job as…however your job is defined, so it’s less play and more work than anything else. You mentioned helping Private bake “when he feels like it,” and I wouldn’t exactly call napping a hobby, or gambling a healthy one.”

Skipper shrugged. It’s not like “Stomp the Wombat” ever left the confines of the lair, anyhow.

“It just feels like you don’t have a lot of things you do just for yourself, you know? Driving around and watching TV are the only hobbies that feel wholly your own, something you don’t do for work or for others. Keep in mind that you can keep doing these things you enjoy, but perhaps you should find other things for yourself. Like an instrument, or a cooking class.”

“I told the boys that I joined a bowling league just to be here.”

“And did that seem believable enough for you to do to be here?”

His silence told Hans everything, but not the literal everything of Skipper “going to bed” at 8 just to climb through his window at 12:30, shimmy down the fire escape, and walk to Hans’s office.

But he probably could tell anyhow.

Of course, this kind of put a blight on Hans’s plans to make Skipper more comfortable while being here, and as he told him such, Skipper proceeded to lay down on the couch. Hans couldn’t tell the exact reason for the action, but it did seem to be a point of exasperation for him.

“Well, damn, sorry I “foiled your plot” to make myself comfortable in the den of the beast.”

“Skipper, you insult me. You really think I’d decorate my den with wooden sailboats? Absolutely criminal.”

“You seem to forget that.” He muttered. Hans ignored it.

“Although the hobby talk didn’t exactly lead where I thought it could…It did lead me elsewhere.”

“Goddamn it.”

“What skill have you always wanted to learn? What’s something that you’ve wanted to try for just, so long, and never got the chance to?”

Skipper began to pick at his lip. This whole talk already made him nervous, but now what was he supposed to say? That he figured he’d be in the back of a truck with is hand hanging out the taillight since he was 14, for whatever reason, so he didn’t even bother considering his top 3 colleges, let alone any future ambitions?

Still, if he was quiet for too long, either Hans would judge him, or he’d render his lips a bloody mess, and that’d be a whole different thing to deal with.

“…Archery sounds fun.” He said. Hans nodded.

“That’s interesting. It’s closely related to your pre-established interests but it’s closer to a sport now than something to be used in an actual combat situation, which sort of allows it to be separated from your work.”

Skipper nodded as well, allowing Hans to believe that that was his thought process from the start, and more of just curious to see if he could shoot a flame off a candle like Annie Oakley.

“You mentioned you liked baking with Private. Do you like the idea of baking itself, or just doing it with another person?”

“Food is meant to be shared?” Skipper seemed to be asking, but also stated in a very definitive way. “It’s a process. It’d be weird not to help in the process.”

Hans pulled his hand away from Skipper’s mouth, where a few small cuts were beginning to form. “If you’d like to have a session where we did a low-stress activity you wanted to do, and we talked while doing so, I think it’d put you in the best conductive environment possible to actually combat the problems that seem so visible to me. This was a good first development, though. I just don’t know if I can expect on accidental issues to identify and attack every time.”

Hans sighed and got up from his chair to stare out the window. Skipper didn’t know why he did this, outside of being a dramatic bitch, but it got him to look anyhow.

“It’s so incidental, many people struggle with balancing work and life as is, but this could easily be one of the main causes of your paranoia, as well as causing a level of detachment and depersonalization, which relates to how you relate to others.”

And well, damn. What was Skipper supposed to say to that?

“Our time’s almost up.” Hans said, checking his watch. Skipper was coming to realize how strange time in therapy was. It simultaneously felt like hours and seconds passing all at once. Perhaps it was because there were no clocks, like a casino. Or maybe it was because going to therapy at 1 in the morning didn’t exactly give you a sun to follow in terms of time. Hans handed Skipper a weird sort of rack with string on it, along with some tissues.

“It’s a loom. Fidget with something that won’t bleed for the next five minutes, if you would.”

Skipper glared at him for the snide comment, but Skipper didn’t exactly put it back where Hans had stored it originally. Picking at the strings inanely didn’t feel as satisfying as his usual fidgets, but it would work until he lost focus and the skin had time to heal.

“I’m giving you three assignments until our next session.” Skipper would’ve originally rolled his eyes at the idea of homework, but there was something that felt already strange about this session. Last session, he was so thoroughly antagonized and owned in such a way that his entire psychological history had been exposed, but this made last session feel like…a misstep. It was almost like Hans was trying to give the rug back to Skipper after it had already been so unceremoniously swept away from him.

He seemed as unsure about this as he was, he even confided about the state of his own mental health, something he probably wasn’t supposed to do. Which, honestly, made Skipper feel better about the whole thing. He didn’t like being guided, and as much as he detested having to do this whole thing with Hans in particular, the idea of having to figure out a stranger at the same time they were trying to figure out him sounded like a nightmare. More than this already was.

The whole session felt off, sure, but it wasn’t as off as it could’ve been, and he knows it could only be worse.

“I want you to begin researching archery, if you really want to pursue it as a hobby, you should try to learn what you can about it before jumping in and figuring out it isn’t what you thought it was.”

“I want you to pay a compliment to each of your team members in a casual way, this’ll strengthen your bonds with them, in a way that allows you to affirm that you appreciate them, as much as they appreciate you.”

Okay, that sounded like hippie nonsense, but who was he to judge at this point.

“And finally, I want you to pick out a recipe to prepare during our next session.”

“Wait, what?”

“A recipe. Something that’ll take less than an hour. I have a friend who’d give me access to their kitchen in the middle of the night, so we’ll be on neutral ground, and I’m sure it’ll be more believable to your “boys” that if you really are doing something in the middle of the night, that you have physical proof of it. Considering how weirdly secretive you are already, the idea you covered up secret cooking lessons with a bowling league doesn’t sound too far-fetched.” Hans was muttering at this point. All these things answered questions he figured he’d have, but nothing that helped with where he was NOW.

“I know it’s a weird idea, but the clients who have had the chance to do different, vaguely active things during our sessions tend to be more open and honest with me about things that they’re worried about, things that they struggle with, and they can make for more engaging sessions where you actually take in what I’m telling you, and makes it less of a lecture.” Hans sighed. “If you hate it, we never have to try anything like that again, but, I do really want you to give it a try. This is a two-way street, I can only give as much as I myself get. I just got lucky this week.”

Skipper stopped strumming the loom.

“Text me the address.” He said, and Hans would have burst with joy if such a thing was appropriate in present company, until he realized.

“I…don’t have your number?”

“Oh, no, session’s over! Wow, how did the time fly? Guess you’ll just have to figure that out for yourself, what a swell talk we had, doc,” Skipper yelled as he headed out the door.

“Pay at the front desk!” Hans yelled back before relaxing into his chair. Skipper was never going to be an easy client to deal with. Maybe he wouldn’t ALWAYS dance around the issues at hand, but he was never going to REALLY come clean about it. There may be things they never talk about, the same way Hans did.

And that was fine. Maybe it made what little he did learn all the more rewarding. Maybe it made what little he learned all the more meaningless if Skipper ever reached a point of complete and utter honesty with him, a fantasy he knew would never see come to light.

But who was to say, really?

It was all a matter of time.

After all, this was only the second session.

(Ahh! I can’t believe I didn’t post another fic for a whole! Month! I think it’s just because I didn’t really know what to do for the second session, and I think you can kinda tell, considering it’s not like Hans knows what to do either. Do you guys really want a whole fic series about Skipper going to therapy? I have no idea. It’s pretty fun, though. I don’t know how Hans became a therapist, either, but I guess that’s just what the dude does now. By the way, the client who turned her therapy sessions into stand-up comedy? That was just me in high school with my mandated therapist. I once gave a funeral to a squeaky toy I broke in the middle of the session. It was simultaneously so sad and so funny at the exact same time.

This fic will be up on my ao3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadstrangerthings, as soon as @drawbauchery posts it!)

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dayables · 4 years ago

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4 and Shin? That's a dark one, but you write him well so I'd trust you with it. If you want something lighter instead, 17 for Shin!

Thank you for asking this! As you can see, I got into a very deep ramble about his life pre-death game and it doesn’t really tie in but I’ve kept it there :) The last few parapraghs are the actual answers ahaha. Play some sad music in those paragrapths because I nearly cried with halloween music in the background. 4) What they would do if they had one month to live. If Shin had one month left to live? We see it in the game kind of. Or at least kind of. Obviously imitating your ‘scary friend’ most likely abuser to try and turn everyone against your biggest threat isn’t going to work in real life.

What the game and his 0.0% score does tell us (or heavily shove in our direction so we infer it) is that Shin is petrified of certain death to the point of desperation.

I do believe/headcanon that he is a very logical person. Almost everything he does is backed up by logic in the death game except for his last moments because screw logic that’s never worked before. (The opposite of Keiji who’s likely very emotional until his potential last moments but this isn’t about him). So the question is, when did Shin’s last moments begin for him? As the player, it’s when it’s that final choice between him and Kanna. To Shin this is likely a very different response. His last moments start the very second he gets told he’s doomed to die. Almost all of Shin’s choices in the game are emotional. Trusting Sara or at least earning her trust is the logical choice here. Making yourself her enemy because you are scared is the emotional one. He just lies to himself on the basis that she’s untrustworthy. Which, you can trick yourself into believing is logical. It triggers a kind of flight or fight response in all our characters when they realise they can die here. All the cast barr Shin choose to fight and try and escape. Shin chooses the flight option here. Nothing he does actually prevents his death in the end. He just runs away from the inevitable doom.

I am once again inferring by comparing him to rest of the cast the death is a deep rooted trauma (and I definitely have thoughts on why). While the concept of death is one that scares everyone, no one seems to revel in it the way Shin does. He is living an incredibly safe life. A free lance programmer (by the sounds of it) which earns an average of £60 an hour. He has a side job at a convenience store (that wasn’t a lie). He doesn’t leave his apartment much meaning he doesn’t have much of a social life. Shin is in a position in life where it’ll be near impossible to hurt him. Obviously he isn’t earning 60 quid an hour, but he has the potential too. Once he’s set up and successful, he’ll be able to die old. Alone, maybe not happy, but old. For a guy likely in his early to mid twenties, things are bound to change but only as much as he lets them. From one person who will happily spend all their life in their own company to another, Shin isn’t going to change that. Not when he’s too scared to let someone past arms width and will avoid doing so. By the time he gets his game together and his skinny self to therapy it’ll likely be too late to make the same connections he has the chance too at his current age. It’s not emotional because even the most introverted of introverts desires a life all alone. It’s a logical one for the fears and life he has. I don’t think that means he isn’t happy. It just thinks there’s a potential that he could have been happier.

For Midori to have gotten as close as he was and no one to pull up the red flags his friends either didn’t care or didn’t exist. Most likely the latter seeing as he is very much in the process of mourning three years after his friends death. He likely wasn’t close enough to his parents to feel he could go to them over something as silly as Midori’s death. In the aftermath, Shin will be confused and muddled. In some ways, he’ll be elevated because he is free, he can move on. In other ways he’ll be lost, devastated and empty. Shin will also have a semblance of independence back. He doesn’t think he shows enough gratitude to his parents for materialistic items. Midori’s abuse was likely emotional or verbal. It probably consisted of vague threats, put downs, anger, power dynamics and a shrug at Shin’s emotions. I’m in no way a professional but after years of this Shin is going to think his emotions are something he should be able to handle himself, something he might not be able to do if he started to repress them in his teens. Shin likely has a warped sense of independence. Instead of being free from others control, he’ll likely think it means he can’t get help and must deal with everything alone.

Being told that his death is round the corner strips two things that he values most away from him. He now has zero control over his life and worse, it ends with him dyeing. Shin would grasp for straws to have that independence back and therefore escape his own death. If he couldn’t get his independence back then he’ll try and avoid the end outcome.

His last month would be a goose chase to avoid death. There’d be a list of everything he has to do. Fuck his jobs, fuck debt he needs to get to the hospital. Get checked up! Make sure he’s well. He’d do it everyday. Does he have enough medicine? Wet wipes, stock up on healthy food, hand sanitizer? Does he have enough hand sanitizer? Make sure his room is squeaky clean, don’t let anyone in, don’t answer the phone. Bolt the windows and live off ramen and debt for the rest of the month. Beanie on, beanie off, what is he going to die from? Has he prevented any possible cause? He’s forgotten to call his parents. That’s fine because he shouldn’t be dyeing anyway. It’s logical. It’s all logical. This is not his fear of death speaking through everything he is doing is logical! Now he just needs to figure out what’s causing this all? How did that person know? Then on the last day. He’d just give up. He’d finally pick up that phone and call his parents. He’d thank them and explain. He’d apologize for the debt because he’s swimming in it then he’d hang up. Shin would then proceed to cry in bed all day and trying to sleep so he just doesn’t wake up. Then, while it’s a tragedy, I think he’d accept it. I don’t think he ever really thought he had a chance but his emotions drove him round and round in circles. Maybe he would regret his whole life and look back on it all. In a none death game scenario Shin seems like a brooder. He doesn’t have Kanna to live for so he has no reason to push forward. I think in the end he’d reach the conclusion his life was pretty pointless. Just as he’d slip from consciousness I imagine he’d think of Midori. Nearly everything we know about Shin seems to revolves about Midori . We, the player, never know him before the guy entered his life. That guy has a big impacts in his life and in a world where that was the only person to leave such a big mark? I think he’d go back to Midori. Especially with nothing to distract him from his mourning.

It’s quite sad really. He lets his fear control him too much. Midori controls him too much and they’re both aware of that fact. But in the short, Shin would try and avoid his death. Hell he’ll likely die of exhaustion or caffeine overdose

His ending in the main game, I think that’s the best way Shin could have gone at that age. Dying for Kanna and letting go of his cynicism.

Ending this off with 17 because I need that jokeness now, after all that.

17) What would they sing at Karaoke?

Everyone expects Shin to like bang out with some Beyonce or something. Maybe one of those silly little disney parodies. Everyone would make a joke about what he should sing because he’s indecisive as hell.

Keiji Kai and all of those mature adults suggest Single Ladies, Mr. Brightside, Fireworks, Wannabe because classic Karoke songs you actually have to be able to sing when Shin 100% can’t? Count them in!

Midori would suggest something embarrassing he knew wouldn’t even be funny to watch. Just painful.

Gin, Sara, Reko and Alice are snickering behind their hands as they suggest Poor Unfourtunate Souls, How Bad Can I Be (Alice ended up doing that one), The oogie boogie song and the price Ali reprise.

When he refuses Sara refuses to let him get away with not being painted as some corny villian and dedicates her singing of Cruella De Vil to him.

Then Kanna taps on his shoulder and tells him what to sing and A: It’s Kanna’s suggestion B: It’s not and a bonus C if he’s drunk: He gets to whack a certain police officer and teacher with a hockey stick.

And my inner theatre Kid shines through as he I say Shin sings Revolting Children and can’t get his letters write, drunk or sober.

‘R e v o t l i n !’ instead of ‘ R E V O L T I N G’

‘S P L L!’ instead of ‘ S P E L’

‘TOO LATE FOR YOU?’ Instead of ‘ 2-L-8-4-U ‘

I kid you not I have knows this song for years and I still struggle. You can not do that spelling rhythm first time.

Also the lines. The lines! We will become a screaming hoard.//Take out your hockey sticks and use it as a sword.// Never again will we be ignored.//We'll find out where the chalk is stored// And draw rude pictures on the board.

It’s such a childish song but it’s so hard. He struggles and struggles and one day he will get it because it’s so simple and why can’t he do it roght! Also, it suits him. Sue me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6PXm34OBP8

#well this is sad #Press F for Shin #I swear i started rambling #IDK man he gives me hermit vibes #Also like karoke #thanks for the ask!#I told myself this'd be a quick write up because the answer is so simple #This is why Im failing English.#I go in rambles like this #Stan Kanna and what she does for Shin #yttd #meta #shin tsukimi #Sou Hiyori

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foxglove-and-fireflies · 4 years ago

Text

Schizophrenia

Schizophrenia is many things.

To me, it is terrifying, enormous and all consuming.

But Schizophrenia is frustrating most of all.

I was recently diagnosed with Schizophrenia after an 'episode'. It's the second 'episode' I've had, and this one hasn't gone away.

The first time was in December of 2015. Stress in my life had been building for a while, and I felt thrust into a life I wasn't prepared to deal with. I was not mature enough to handle my life, not nearly prepared enough to manage the stress I had.

I was 19. I got married just shy of three months prior. I planned a wedding, moved into a house I never asked for (after spending my wedding weekend repairing it), and I was a full time student. Prior to my wedding I was working part time as well, but I quit after I felt too overwhelmed.

But it was December, and I was out of classes until January. I tried my best to be a 'good wife'. Wake up first, wish him well as he left for work, do laundry, make a lunch for him to take to work the next day, do the shopping, pay the bills, clean up after his aging dog, tidy up, welcome him home, cook dinner, mow the yard...

I did my best. I failed often. Many days I couldn't do everything, and some days I felt powerless to do anything. I went to my mother for advice and asked her "How do you be a good wife? I feel like I'm not enough. Should I get a job?"

My mother advised me that I should make it my job to be a good housewife and take care of all of the things I mentioned before, and that Bret was too good to me. She boasted about how good I had it, how good my husband was, and how I should be grateful for what I had been given. She felt I was ungrateful for my home, that I wasn't taking good enough care of it.

I left feeling more guilty about my failures and less clear about what to do next. I went to her unsure, hoping for encouragement and guidance, but I only felt more guilt.

The stress I felt got worse. The more stressed I felt, the harder it was to accomplish anything. The pile of dirty dishes felt like a monumental task. The laundry felt endless, like I could never catch up. I would lie in bed, so anxious about not having the energy to fix my problems that I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating.

I stayed awake for almost four days, and ate maybe twice in that time. I knew I was depressed, but I didn't know how to reach out for help. It's not like Bret would have reacted badly; he was always supportive of me. All the same, I couldn't.

Thoughts of suicide began to creep in. What if? I wonder what people would think. What nice lies they would say about me at my funeral, and what terrible things they would say in private. How would they judge Bret? He'd be the young widower to the crazy woman.

These thoughts became intrusive. Slowly I realized this voice narrating the thoughts in my head was not mine. I don't know how long this persisted before I realized, but when I did, I was terrified.

I had no idea what to do about it. Should I keep it a secret?

I became distant, in a sense. Like I wasn't really there, like it wasn't really me in my body. I felt very far away, detached from reality. I lay laid on the couch one night, the voice inside my head terrorizing me. Taunting me.

"He knows," she insisted. "He knows I'm in your mind."

The voice echoed inside my head; It came from inside my right eye. I thought about gouging it out to silence her.

Bret must have noticed my distress, as he came to comfort me. He reached out to brush a hair from in front of my face, reaching right towards my right eye.

I slapped his hand. "He knows." the voice echoed again. I was shaken. I wanted to throw up. Bret didn't know what to do to help me either.

I can't remember how many days passed after that, or even if it was the same night. Bret had gone to sleep, and even though I couldn't, I joined him in bed to be a good wife.

"He likes me more." The voice taunted me. "You're weak, you know. He's going to help me."

I got up to wash my face. I stared at the person in the mirror, hoping to see something in my eyes.

"I'm going to steal your body. He's going to help me because he doesn't love you anymore. He likes me better; everyone will. Don't worry, no one will miss you. Everyone will like me better. So why don't you just disappear already?"

It was my voice, but stolen from me. My thoughts no longer mine.

I closed my eyes. "No, I don't want to die. You can't steal my body. I don't want to disappear! You can't take my body from me!"

I searched for a shaving razor. I could dig my eye out. I could get a blade and silence the voice, even if it meant dying. I had to silence it.

Then I realized something that changed my life.

I had a choice. I had one very important choice. Two options only. I could either kill myself right now in this bathroom, or I could get help.

I was so scared. Crying, hyperventilating, unable to see straight, collapsed on the floor, I was so tired. I had to die, or I had to walk through that door and tell Bret what was happening and ask for his help.

The voice was so loud. I struggled to think. I made my choice.

I stood up, I opened the door, and I screamed the only thing I could think of.

"Bret, help me! I don't want to die!"

I had made my choice. It was a bad night. I don't remember much afterwards. He went to the doctor with me, and I got on anti-psychotics. I was embarrassed and ashamed. The doctor gave my prescription to him, and told him to hide my pills. She told him to give me one every night, but not let me know where they were.

I was just a crazy person who wasn't to be trusted with anything. I felt awful.

But things got better after that. I started therapy, and I was scared of my 'diagnosis'. Schizophrenia? Clinically Insane? What would the Psychologist tell me I was?

Depressed. I was depressed, and stressed. I also had an underlying thyroid problem, which can make you hallucinate. I got on antidepressants and adjusted the dose. I worked through some things and built some coping strategies with my therapist.

I was doing so well. I was proud of my progress. I got a job working at a place I loved. I was becoming an independent person with friends and things I did without Bret. I faced fears, I tried new things, I had fun. He was happy for me and I was growing and maturing. Life was so good! Five years passed since I made my choice, and I was so glad I made it.

It only took one day for it to fall apart.

Or... maybe it was longer than a day. I can't remember anymore. Why can't I remember? It was less than two months ago. Or three? I can't remember, and I'm frustrated by it.

I wasn't particularly stressed. I mean, work is hard sometimes, and I'm always worried about something. I've been dealing with anxiety for years, but it was managed by medication, and I no longer needed therapy. I wasn't worried about anything in particular.

Until I was. Suddenly I was afraid. The suddenness of my paranoia also scared me. What was happening? Why did I feel this way? Why did it feel like a leech on my mind? I had no idea, and that only made things worse.

I began to lock all the doors in the house all the time. I would be stricken with the need to check all the rooms in my house because something was telling me to. I was scared of what I would find. I would open the door to the upstairs bedroom and peer into the darkness, waiting for shadows to move. Waiting for the movement to tell me someone was hiding in there. When there was no movement, I flipped on the light.

Nothing there, but my mind was not satisfied. No, I turned the light off again, waiting for them to appear in the dark.

Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait.

Over and over, until I was at least somewhat convinced it was empty. Then I would move to the next room and do it again. I did this for every room in the house, and the closets, too. I knew this was tedious and pointless, but I couldn't help it. I had to.

After I had checked through the whole house, I would hide behind the curtains and watch the world outside. I waited again for movement, for something to validate my fears. I knew there was something out there, and when there was nothing, I grew frustrated.

Sometimes there was something. A figure, taller than my fence, staring at me. I could see it, but distorted. It was there and at the same time, it wasn't. Still, I stared at it, and it stared back at me. All the while I felt a sort of pressure in my mind. This wasn't right and I could feel it. Something was wrong with my brain, but I was helpless to stop it. Frustratingly helpless.

After a while, my husband asked me to come to bed. I tore my eyes away from the figure and went to bed. I locked my dog in the room with us that night.

I woke up for work the next day, and I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn't leave the house, and wasn't really sure why. I called in sick.

So I talk to my doctor. She is very kind and understanding, and prescribes me Seroquel again. An anti-psychotic.

Now, before I go on; I am not a doctor. I have looked this up out of curiosity, but I am not a doctor. This is my understanding of how this works, but have I clarified how much of a doctor I am? Because its 0%. Do not take my advice.

Seroquel works by blocking dopamine receptors in the brain, preventing excessive amounts of it which can cause hallucinations and psychosis. Dopamine is a type of neurotransmitter. Your nervous system uses it to send messages between nerve cells. Dopamine helps you feel pleasure, think, plan, focus, and find things interesting.

Seroquel has side effects. For me, it made me exhausted. All the time, with no letup. I was sleeping 20 hours a day. I lost so much time, and I felt like I was disappointing those who depended on me.

My husband, my work, my pets. Here again is the recurring theme of frustration.

Maybe you think I'm just being lazy; I should set an alarm and throw my feet on the floor and hop out of bed.

I wish I could, but I felt prisoner to the bed. I would be awake, and as I felt my medication begin to work, I would begin to feel a little drowsy. A few minutes of that, then I'd get a little dizzy, but I'd be okay. I'd keep working, or reading, or whatever. Suddenly it would wash over me, almost painful.

My eyes would blur, refusing to focus on anything. My stomach would tighten, pulling my head towards the desk. I could feel my temperature falling and my breathing slow. If I fought it, I grew nauseated.

It's like my body was in control of my brain; it was demanding I go to sleep. My brain would stop responding, and all I could think was "go to bed before you fall asleep right now." I was a hostage to the demands of the medicine.

So I would crawl into bed and sleep for hours. I'd wake up to my alarm; 12pm: time to take your next dose of Seroquel. Still groggy from the last dose, I'd put it off for an hour or two; I needed to eat, shower, and be alive for at least a little bit.

But I wasn't working. During this pandemic, I've been working from home. With my medication like this, I couldn't work. I was struggling to stay awake for 4 hours a day and I felt guilty about not spending those hours working.

When I am awake, I feel shielded in a way. I feel like something is protecting me from delusions, like I'm on the edge of a cliff with a rope holding me back from falling. I feel slower, like my brain just can't manage to access information that I know I have.

How old am I? Um…. … 23. No, 24? Yeah, 24. I think. I should know this.

The information is there, so why can't I recall it? Thinking becomes exhausting, trying to force myself to remember things and think through basic ideas. It feels like walking through mud.

So I started skipping doses. Yes, I know, mistake, mistake…

But I was doing okay! I was getting some work done, only sleeping half the day instead of the full day. I was feeling okay, too. Thinking a little easier. I was okay!

Until I wasn't.

I walk upstairs to take my meds (after having skipped a couple doses) and suddenly I don't know where I am.

Has the kitchen always looked like that? No, I don't recognize it at all. Why did I come up here again? Where did I come from to get here? Where was I? Where am I?

It was so fast. Panic set in in a minute or two, and I was so confused. Why was this happening? That dog… looks like mine. Sort of. Cheddar, is that you? No, that's not her!

"Bret..!" I call out, hoping he can hear me from wherever I am. "Help me!"

He replies "I'm in the bathroom." but I don't hear him. I don't hear him, so I'm convinced he isn't there.

I'm not in my house anymore and now I'm alone. Panic. What is going on?! So I begin to talk.

"No, no, no non ononono no nO NO!" I muttered to myself in disbelief.

I couldn't understand why this was happening. I begin to hyperventilate. I can't breathe. Is there air?

I'm suffocating.

I begin to scream, unable to contain the fear any longer. My cat walks up to me and I recoil, scared by the unfamiliar creature.

It takes me a bit to even realize that I'm screaming, and when I do, it only fills me with more fear. "The neighbors will hear me if I keep screaming, and they'll call the cops." I think. Maybe I said it out loud, I'm not sure.

"The cops will show up to see me screaming. They'll lock me up. They'll put me in mandatory psych! They'll kidnap me! I can't go! I'm scared to leave!"

My thoughts keep spiraling to worse and worse scenarios, so I force myself to stop screaming, returning to the muttering. "Quiet, quiet, quiet… you have… to stay quiet… or they'll come…." I mutter between heaving sobs.

I don't remember when, but I threw some things in my panic. My feet dug grooves into the carpet as they tried to push me farther and farther against the wall.

I look to my left and see a man standing there. When did he get there? Did he just say something to me? I thought I was alone in this strange place. Who is he? I push myself into a corner. Wait, that stranger looks like Bret, but why is he here?

I don't remember much else. Did I lash out at him, or simply pull away? I remember both, but also neither. He brings me to bed, checks all the rooms in the house for me, and gets me my medication. He brings my dog and helps me realize its her.

I am forever grateful for him. He is kind and patient, helping me as best he can. The next morning I am still shaken, the feeling still there, but milder. I call my med provider and change to Seroquel XR, which makes me less drowsy. I'm still working on getting used to it, and trying to find a schedule that works with it. I can't not take it.

So I log into work and hop on Zoom. Should I pretend I'm ok? Should I be honest and tell them how scary the world outside my bedroom is? My coworkers greet me with the normal "Morning! How are you?"

I'm not sure how to reply. I go between a generic "I'm ok, you?" and being a little more truthful "I'm not doing well."

Either way, I don't feel like myself. My brain feels like mud, and with the perpetual fear of the pandemic going on, It feels pointless to even be here. What does advertising matter? We don't even have product to sell right now, we're sold out. So why am I here?

But I push that aside, my mind too muddied to work through that. I float through the day, often sleeping through much of it.

But what other choice do I have?

I'm so frustrated.

#mental health #schizophrenic disorder #schizophrenia #experience

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tomthesoftie · 5 years ago

Text

stay with me, please | pt.2

warnings: mentions of SELF-HARM, talks about attempting SUICIDE, depression, language, angst, heartbreak

a/n: please do NOT read this if you are sensitive on the topics in listed above. I do not support the topics. if you feel alone, call the suicide prevention hotline: 1-800-273-8255. please remember that you are loved, and when times get tough, it’s just a rough patch in your life, but it’ll be over with soon. look on the bright side of things. treat yourself with love and care. i love you all ♡

*i personally have never had an experience on this topic, but a very close friend of mine has, she took therapy and is better than ever now. feel free to talk to me by clicking ‘ask me anything.’ i myself have suffered from depression. i tried to cut myself and was only able to cut my fingertip. i have a habit of not eating a lot of food and trying to stay quiet, not to attract attention to myself. nobody knows about it, not even my family or close friends. sometimes i feel alone in this world, but then i remember that there are people out there that love me. it’s hard, i know, but stay strong, my lovelies, i know it’ll get better. i will make a post just on this because i’ve typed too much of this on my lil’ fic here, which have more parts to come, so enjoy!*

masterlist

pt.1 | pt. 2

You awoke to the bright lights shining in your eyes. You tried to lift your arm to cover your eyes, but it didn’t work.

“Y/N! You’re awake!” Tom’s sounded tired.

You tried your hardest to turn your head to face him, but it didn’t work.

“Woah! Slow down, you haven’t healed yet. You’re still too weak. You’ll feel like you’re paralyzed only for an hour, so don’t worry. Here, let me help you.” His soft hands gently turn your head to face him.

He looks so tired like he hasn’t gotten any sleep. The dark under eye bags proving that he didn’t get any sleep. Tom was slouched over, gripping onto the hospital bed for support.

“Tom,” You were able to croak out, “Go sit down, you’re too weak. It’s okay.” He nodded his head and unsteadily walks back to the chair.

“Why?” Tom asked, sadness washing over his dull eyes.

“What?” You were confused.

“Why would you try to k-,” He struggled to get the word out. It was too painful to think about your limp body lying on the white tiled floor of the bathroom.

“Kill yourself,” He finally got it out. Tears started to fill his eyes.

I made him cry. I’m an idiot. I deserved to die. Why’d he have to save me? I’m just a waste of time.

“Please don’t cry, especially over me. I’m a waste of time, of effort.” You said quietly.

“No, you’re not! You aren’t a waste of time or effort! I love you! So fucking much as well! You don’t know how many people love you! Did you ever think about how the people around you would feel?! How I’d-,” He yelled, but you cut him off.

“You’re wasting your time yelling at me. Like I said if I had died, no one would have noticed and I would’ve been better off. You wouldn’t have to be here, wasting your breath. Look, Tom. You need to move on, to find someone better, like Zendaya. She’s so much better for you. It’s healthier for you to leave me,” You gave up on trying to speak loudly. Your voice was only a little over a whisper.

“No! You don’t get to choose what’s right for me! I love you, Y/N! You can’t just throw me away because you think you aren’t worth it! So listen up, I love you, and I won’t be leaving you anytime soon!” He demanded.

“If you won’t leave me, then I’ll have to leave you.” You sighed, trying your hardest to shake your head.

“No-,” you cut him off, “Tom, you can’t keep following after me, picking up all of my mishaps. You have to move on. I love you, and you mean the world to me, but it’s time that I go. So please, let go, I beg of you.” Tom’s eyes started to water, and his lips started to quiver.

Dammit, you made him cry, again.

“Please go, Thomas,” hearing you say his real name shocked him. He didn’t know what to do. You never said his real name, only Tommy, Tommo, Tom, and other nicknames.

“N-No, I can’t. I can’t,” he fell to his knees and started sobbing.

The tears rolled down his face rapidly as he kneeled there. His hands clenched into fists, continuously pounding the hospital floors.

The sound must’ve been heard by the doctor because the next thing you knew, they were standing at the door. They saw what was causing the noise, and you sympathetically looked over to the doctor, as if you were asking them to escort Tom out of the building. They nodded and continued onto their job. Somehow, the doctors were able to convince Tom to get up and exit your room.

You silently cried as you watched Tom get escorted out. You loved him. It was painful to let go of him, but you knew it was for the best. You couldn’t keep dragging him into your messes. Zendaya or any other girl would be better for him. You just hoped he would move on, and forget about you, completely.

“I love you, Tom,” you cried to yourself.

Tom couldn’t leave you. He stayed in the hospital waiting room, pacing back and forth. As the sunset, and more people started to leave, he sat down, sobbing his heart out.

Once Tom had calmed down, he walked back to your room, watching you sleep. You seemed so peaceful. He placed a hand on the glass, staring at you sympathetically.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll do anything for you. Just please, please, live. Don’t try to go again. I’ll always be waiting for you, my love. Love, Tom.” He wrote on a sticky note, placing it right beside you on your tray.

The tears slipped down his face as he kissed your forehead, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time. He slowly walked out, relapsing all of the wonderful memories he shared with you.

Tom knew you guys were forever.

As the sun peaked through the hospital window, you were awoken by your doctor. They informed you that you could leave the hospital the next day. You were able to move on your own, now.

“Ms. L/N, you have a note,” your doctor handed you the small sticky note and left the room.

Puzzled, you read the note.

“Love, Tom.” It read.

Tears started to flood your eyes.

He finally left.

A wave of desperation and contentment washed over you. He could finally grow and thrive without something to stop him, but you would never get to feel his lips on yours anymore, or the way he’d hold you when you were afraid.

He’s gone.

#tomholland #tom holland #tomhollandimagine #tom holland imagine #tomhollandblurbs #tomhollandfics #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #angst #fluff #tom angst #tom fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland and reader #reader insert #tom holland x you #tom holland and you

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