#tw:ptsd mention
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Some stuff happened and I've been really struggling with my PTSD lately. Basically got triggered pretty bad IRL and had a real bad episode; don't want to go into that too much right now. But the whole thing led to the realization that I've now been living with PTSD for 18 years.
I'm no longer actively in therapy but I was for the first 7 years. Learned lots of great techniques that help me on a regular day to day basis. But yeah, it's been just a kind of good reminder that healing isn't linear and you never really fully heal from PTSD even if you get mostly better.
It had been about 4 years since my last really severe episode before this one. When I told my mother about it she told me I "needed to be careful with how I talked about my 'anxiety attack' because there are people who really have PTSD" ngl that messed me up even worse. I had a full on nervous breakdown immediately following that conversation with her.
Friendly reminder that people react to and tall about traumas in different ways too. You should never discredit or try to "correct" someone on how they choose to talk about their trauma. It is incredibly damaging for that individual and it can sometimes be the thing that pushes them over the edge.
I'm not in danger of that right now. Again, 18 years of experience with PTSD and its BS, but it's not the first time someone has said something like this to me either. In fact, I heard it a lot before I got my official diagnosis and I ended up making a few attempts back then as a direct result of such "helpful" comments.
Sorry, I'm super exhausted and kind of all over the place still even though it's been a few days/weeks (I'm not sure how long exactly; severe ADHD combined with PTSD flare-up makes it easy to lose time). But basically, I guess I just want you guys to know because you really really need to be careful not to contradict someone or try to downplay/diminish how they talk about their mental health. It could literally kill someone and odds are if they trust you enough to confide in you then you really don't want that to happen.
So yeah. That's my soap box. I'll try to finish up Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist part 3 and get it up later this week. I'm pretty sure I didn't finish editing it but I can't fully remember.
#my original post#general status update#tw: ptsd#tw: mental health#tw: sucidal thoughts#idk what else to put here#don't want to trigger someone else though so trying to cover everything#tw: suicide#tw:suicide mention#tw:ptsd#for context my mother is engaged to an ex-marine and she was probably thinking about ptsd in context of war#but that's a bs excuse to be honest#she absolutely should have known better#i am just so emotionally and physically drained rn guys
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There's something I forgot to mention.....
TW:PTSD, Panic/Anxiety Attack, Child Abandonment
So, Millie suffers from Panic/Anxiety attacks, PTSD, and abandonment issues because... of you know what. She's been having them since childhood and they still frequently appear in adult hood.
#art#digital art on tumblr#cuphead#cuphead oc#oc#king dice#millie#tw abandonment#tw: abuse#tw: vent#tw: ptsd#Sad#Comfort#Dad dice au#millie dice#my oc
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Um, hello! I was reading a post on how to write US military characters, where I saw your comment! I am working on a piece which revolves around Military and Romance, so I had some questions if you don't mind answering? (The only resource I relied on was wikipedia, but I would really love some answers from someone who have seen if first hand!)
Can officers/soldiers get transferred from air force to Army/Navy or vice-versa?
(It's okay if you don't answer this one, cause maybe it's pretty obvious) Are romantic relationships among the officers considered unprofessional, or is it just, "as long as you give your best on the field, you're good to go"?
Is PTSD a common thing in ALL military people?
I have read about the separate divisions in the military, from military intelligence to Special forces, can officers be part of more than one division at a time?
Do the military higher ups select random people with some exquisite talents to offer an important position in the army/air-force/navy ?
Can there be field missions where people who are non-military can be/need to be involved?
I have some more questions but I can't remember them rn! (Also sorry for this list) but thankyou if you're answering!
Hi! I'm more than happy to help however I can. Full disclosure, though - I've been out for about 10 years now, so I'll let you know if there's something that might be different.
1. Service members absolutely can transfer between branches. Usually, though, this can’t happen until their current contract is ready to expire. My oldest son was a Marine and when he was ready to get out, he decided he wanted to be a nurse. I tried to talk him into switching branches & going into the Navy and becoming a Corpsman - same training and everything - but he’d had his fill of the military (he graduates college in a few weeks and will be an RN). 2. Relationships between OFFICERS are ok, depending on the situation. If they’re in the same command, no. If they’re in different commands, then it would probably be up to their leadership’s guidance. If it’s enlisted/officer, absolutely not ever regardless of where they’re stationed. I can give you more information on that, if you want. 3. PTSD is more common than most people think, largely in part because we’re shedding more light on it. I wouldn’t say EVERY servicemember has it, though. Everyone processes trauma differently and what might completely devastate one person might barely faze another. 4. When you say ‘division’, I don’t think it’s the word you’re looking for. Military Intelligence is an MOS (Military Occupational Specialty. Basically a servicemembers job, but I think each branch calls it something different. MOS is what the US Army uses). There are hundreds of MOSs out there - from programming to finance (payroll) to supply and some of those get more specific, too. Things like the SEALs, Special Forces, etc. usually conduct more highly specialized and covert military missions. So someone can have an MOS of Military Intelligence and then go through SEAL training and be both. 5. Military brass can and do select certain people to fill important positions. I wouldn’t say it’s random, though. Usually the people they select have distinguished themselves in some way - going above & beyond during a combat mission, extremely high test/class scores, etc. Usually. The military is rife with what’s called ‘the good ol’ boys club’ and doing favors for friends. Nepotism is alive and well, sadly. 6. Definitely. Civilian Contractors are used more and more by the military. Local people can be used as translators and guides. Security could be bolstered by the civilian sector. When I was on my last deployment in Baghdad, most of the security was run by a British security company called Aegis. I hope I answered your questions ok! If not, or if you have any others, feel free to drop me an ask!
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The Afterglow.|| Aarotin ♥
Discord thread featuring: Quentin and Aaron @aaronhart93
When: January 3rd 2021
Mentions: Roman Beckett @romanbeckett
Description: Quentin goes over to Aaron’s penthouse for the first time after Aaron’s confession.
Trigger Warnings: Murder Mentions, Death Mentions, PTSD, FEELS!!!
Aaron Aaron had had a rough couple of days. Obviously, he had a shitty New Year’s Eve. Then on top of that, he was trying to help Alison deal with the fact that her boyfriend had gone AWOL. he’d taken the kids for the weekend because Alison could barely take care of herself. So now he was anxious about Quentin, Alison, the kids, and for some reason he was also anxious about Roman. He wasn’t exactly sure why either. Aaron had just put the twins down for bed when Quentin texted him to tell him that he was in his way. He’d texted back and told him to use his key to come in and up to Destiny’s room because he’d be putting Des down still when he got there. He was in the middle of reading her the Princess and the Frog when he heard Quentin walking down the hall. “In here.” He said, not too loudly because Destiny was already half asleep in her father’s arms. He was nervous to see Quentin. He was nervous for whatever conversation they were about to have. What was he going to tell him? He was terrified that he was going to chose Roman over him. Seeing both men that he cared about deeply together...that would hurt the most. Aaron hadn’t been this nervous since he’s found out that Alison was pregnant. He tried to keep his hands as still as possible as he flipped the pages of the picture book, but the book was still quaking in his hands.
Quentin. To be honest, Quentin was kind of dreading whatever was about to happen tonight. It seemed like all he could think about nonstop since nye was Aaron and Roman. He felt so torn, and it wasn’t unlike him to just drop and run from these types of situations. Instead, he was walking down the lightly lit hallway of Aaron’s penthouse. Heading straight for the bedroom of the man he fell in love withs daughter. He could feel his heart pounding relentlessly against his chest, and he took a deep breath in. Stopping in the doorway as he peered through the crack. Pushing the door open just enough so that Aaron could see him and he could take in the vision of this beautiful man holding his tiny creation. She was literal proof of how much Aaron could love and it almost made his eyes tear up. What did he do? How could he have let this gigantic mess happen? He didn’t want to choose between these two men. But in his head that was the only rational answer here. “Hey” he whispered softly. “Do you want me to wait downstairs?” he asked. His breath shaky as he whispered, but he hoped Aaron could understand him.
Aaron Aaron wasn't the only one to hear Quentin walk into the room. Des' head popped up slightly when she heard the musician walk into the room. Aaron the same time, Aaron peered up at Quentin and nearly forgot to breathe when he walked in. Fuck. Although he was smiling, he was still nervous about the conversation to come. He just couldn't help but smile when he saw that face. Aaron opened his mouth to speak, but Des beat him to it. "Quenny..." She said sheepishly. "Can you sing me a bed time song?" She said in her tiny voice. Aaron looked down at Des as she spoke, then his blue eyes flickered to the other male in the room. He shook his head when he asked him if he should wait, then waved him into the room to sit down next to him. "I'm sure he'd love to, but you have to lay down and close your eyes." He told her, helping her get under the covers. He put a hand on Des' head to gently rub her little blonde head. Raising his brow jokingly, he looked over at Quentin with an anticipating look.
Quentin. It was impossible not to smile when Destiny’s little head popped up and called out for him. It made him feel all types of emotional, but how could he say no to such a perfect little angel. His eyes shifted over to Aaron and their blue eyes met as he waved him to come in. His heart pounding even harder now as he walked over to take a seat beside his lover. “Of course I’ll sing to you” he nodded slowly. The warmth of Aaron’s body sitting next to him making it nearly impossible for him to think up any lyrics. But he sure as hell would try. He reached out and placed his hand on top of Aaron’s on Des’ head and smiled over to him. “When the lights go down in the city...” he began to sing softly. His voice still shaky with nerves as his eyes shifted from Aaron and over to the little girl. “And the sun shines on the baaaay. Oh, I want to be there- in my city. Ooh, ooh. Oh, ooh, oooooh.” He stopped singing and tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he removed his hand from Des’ head. “I don’t remember the rest of the words” he said softly. His eyes shifting down to the floor as he shook his head. “I’m sorry” he whispered. Clearing his throat quietly before softly singing the words to Love me like you do all the way through. His eyes shifting back over to Aaron as he finished before standing back up and leaning over Des to kiss her forehead.
Aaron Quentin was making it hard for Aaron to not fall more and more in love with him. He smiled widely at Quentin, completely paying attention to him while he sang. He nearly would have forgotten Des was in the room if his hand wasn't on top of his head. And feeling how Q's hand felt on top of his...this was the perfect moment. His daughter and the man he loved both in one room with him having one of the sweetest moments ever. He chuckled airily when Q said he forgot the words. Aaron pressed his lips together to try and hide an even bigger smile that was slowly starting to creep across his face. That was Quentin's song to Aaron, and he knew exactly what Quentin was doing when he started singing that song. Aaron. Loved. This. Man. So much. And he was so god damn gorgeous, but that was really just the cherry on top. There were so many amazing things about Quentin, no wonder Aaron was head over heals for him. He heard Des' breath get heavy right before Quentin finished the song. He gave Des a kiss after Q did then lead the silently out of the room. Now it was time to get serious. "Do you...um...want a drink?" He asked, unsure of where to go from here. The ball was completely in Q's court.
Quentin. Moments like these, with Aaron. They only made Quentin fall in love with him even more. It was hard for them not to when he could see so very clearly how protective, loving, and caring this man was. He knew exactly why he loved Aaron, why his heart couldn’t let go. But he also loved Roman. He was so madly in love with Roman. If he could literally cut himself in half and have them both he totally would without any hesitation. Hell, he’d do it even now and just let himself bleed out all over the floor for them both. That would be easier than ever having to choose. It was almost like he went into his own little world in his head for a moment as Aaron lead them out of the room. The sound of the business man’s voice pulling him from his thoughts as he shifted his eyes to lock on Aaron’s baby blues. “Uh... no, I’m good” he replied, still obviously contemplating in his head. “Actually...” he breathed out as he placed his hands on Aaron’s shoulders. “I just want to kiss you.” He pushed the business man’s back against the wall and pressed his entire body weight into his. His eyes closing as their lips brushed just barely together. “Tell me you love me” he asked with such a soft undertone. His heart pounding relentlessly as he waited to hear those three little words.
Aaron Okay...so maybe they weren't going to talk. Of course, Aaron was more than okay with that. He had been waiting to kiss Quentin again since he left him on the rooftop on New Year's Eve. His breath hitched when Q practically pinned him against the wall. The reality star's hands immediately reach up to cup his cheeks to try and bring their lips closer together. But Aaron paused when Quentin asked him to tell him that he loved him. He smiled contently as his heart started feeling so god damn full. He sighed with content before he whispered. "I love you." He eyelids fluttered closed as he pressed their lips together softly. He hummed softly on his lips as he kissed him sweetly and lovingly. "Mmm...fuck...I love you so much." He whispered, smiling softly before kissing him gently again. He just wanted to keep repeating it because he had been holding it in for so long. It felt amazing to say. And it right so fucking right too. Part of him wanted to scream it from the rooftops and part of him wanted to whisper it tenderly in Quentin's ear all night.
Quentin. Did they need to talk? Yeah, they probably did. But there was no way Quentin would have been able to get through any kind of talk without feeling Aaron’s lips on his first. He needed this moment, probably even more than he initially thoughts. Just hearing those words fall from the business man’s lips, without any hesitation, and without the loud distractions of the city. It was breathtaking, and that kiss to follow. God! He couldn’t even remember he needed to breath. A deep breathy sigh passing his lips as he practically gasped for air when Aaron pulled back to speak again. “I love you too. God, I love you so fucking much” he whispered back. Pressing his forehead against his lovers as he just melted into the moment for few seconds. His heart feeling so full he could swear it was literally about to pop. “Aaron...” he finally spoke again. His eyes shifting to meet his lovers without pulling his head back from his at all. “Can we go to your room? I wanna tell you everything. Just not here.”
Aaron Those words sounded to sweet coming out of Quentin's mouth. It just felt so right. And he was so fucking happy. He hadn't felt the happiness he was feeling in this moment in such a long time. Their embrace was so perfect. It was a long time coming too. Aaron just wanted to bask in it forever, but he knew Quentin was right. They had a lot to talk about, and honestly Aaron wanted answers about what happened a couple nights before. He sunk into his for a few moments more before finally letting out a sigh and nodding. "Yeah..." He whispered. He laced his finger's through his lover's hand and pulled him all the way down the hall and into the mater bed room. He rested his back against the board and pulled Q down so that he was sitting between his legs and resting his head against the millionaire's chest. The perfect angle for Aaron to play with Q's hair. "What happened, Q?" He asked, gently stroking the other male's thick locks.
Quentin. Standing with Aaron in the hallway, wrapped in each other’s arms. It felt like such a safe place. One that he didn’t ever want to come out of. It was like nothing could hurt them as long as they were holding onto one another like this. It felt right. But when Aaron agreed and pulled away from him to lead him down the hallway. He could feel that anxiety of hurting him starting to consume him all over again. Thank God Aaron decided to pull him back in when they finally sat down. Because he really felt like he might have just turned around and ran away. He wished so hard that he was taught how to deal with these emotions while growing up. But he really was trying. He was holding onto Aaron so tight now, as he laid his head on his chest. The sound of his lovers heartbeat and the scent of his skin calming him in a way he never could have expected. “I... I wasn’t expecting any of that. What you said, and how I reacted. I think it made the situation a whole lot worse that I didn’t. Expect it, you know?” He could feel his eyes stinging with tears, as his fingers played with the hem of the business man’s shirt. “My birth parents. When I was five. We spent New Year’s Eve together. The last thing I really remember is them telling me they loved me before I watched them get murdered.” This was probably the first time he actually said those words out loud to anyone. Most people he told through text, or didn’t tell at all. But this was all part of the issue. He didn’t wanna leave anything out, and Aaron deserved the truth. “I guess.. when you said you loved me, and hearing all the loud noises. It just kinda triggered me. I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before. I was just so convinced you didn’t want me like that. That you couldn’t possibly love me, ya know?” He took a deep shaky breath and then closed his eyes as he sniffed. “Then..” he started to actually back track a bit. “I was with Roman. After his breath up with Khai... and he told me he was in love with me, I always knew I loved him too. But this was different. We made love.” He stopped talking and brought his hand up to wipe at his tears. Trying to take a few calming breaths as he waited for Aaron to react.
Aaron Aaron took several deep breaths as he listened intently to Quentin's story. His heart ached for the other male. He knew Quentin had been through a lot of shit, and he now realized that the night his parents died was the night it must have all started. Quentin had been through immense trauma and Aaron finally understood why Quentin reacted the way he did on New Year's Eve. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Quentin. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It would have made this a lot less stressful for all of us." And by all of us...he met Roman, Quentin and Aaron. All three of them. They were all confused by their feelings for each other....and this entire situation was messy. Maybe if Aaron would just honest from the start, things wouldn't have become so confusing. "I do love you. I've loved you for a while now. If I were honest from you from the start, I wouldn't have triggered you. Thank you for telling me though." His heart ached at the fact that Aaron had triggered the man he loved. How could he do that to him? He didn't know, but Aaron still felt like it was somehow his fault. The next thing Aaron said made him feel oddly jealous...he wasn't sure who he was jealous of though. Another part of him also found that picturing Roman and Quentin making love to be hot as fuck. God, if things weren't confusing already. The businessman continued to stroke his hair. "I can't exactly blame you for being in love with Roman." He admitted with a tiny sigh. He looked down at the top of Q's head. "What are we going to do about this, Q?" He asked because he genuinely did not know the answer. Aaron wanted Quentin, but he didn't want to stop seeing Roman. And he sure as hell didn't want to come between them either. "I'm really confused." He whispered.
Quentin. Hearing Aaron apologize, he just closed his eyes tighter. He hated that he felt like this was somehow his fault. It wasn’t his fault at all. Quentin had a lot of demons in his life. Some he might never actually voice out loud. But this definitely wasn’t Aaron’s fault. “Babe... it’s not your fault. Things happen, and sometimes they don’t happen like we hope they will. But, you telling me you love me. That was perfect. I wanted to hear you say those words for so long” he admitted. Finally opening his eyes and looking up at his lover when he said he couldn’t blame him for loving Roman and that he was confused. What was that supposed to mean? It didn’t really matter though seeing how he did love the man. It showed in his eyes when he looked up at Aaron even now. “Aaron... we want to be together. He makes me feel so..” he stopped talking and looked back down at the hem of the business man’s shirt again and shook his head. “I don’t want you to think I don’t love you. I do love you, I’ve been in love with you for a while now. But, when you shut me down. I had to let go, I’ve been trying to let go” he admitted with another sniffle. “Things with him are just so raw, ya know? they’re intense, and rare. It’s just like, I don’t ever have to compete for him, and he loves me so hard.” He pulled out of Aaron’s arms and turned slightly to face him more directly. “Aaron, I love you. I really do, and I believe that you love me. I know you’d never hurt me and I trust you. But I’m scared. I’m so confused and scared right now, and I know you like being single. I just wish I had the answers, that I could have you both. But I can’t.”
Aaron Aaron looked down at Quentin as he spoke, smiling softly at first. It quickly faded, though, when Quentin told him that he wanted to be with Roman. He felt like he could cry right then and there. If only he was honest with himself and Quentin earlier. He was mad. Not at the Quentin. How could he be? He was mad at himself. In fact, he was furious with himself. Aaron rolled out from under Quentin and turned away from him, his legs dangling over the side of his bed. His throat tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut. He literally hurt all over. "Are things with us not raw? Are they not so real and special? I've been loving you with all I've got, even if we both didn't know it at the time." He admitted with a little bitterness in his voice. Quentin was right...he liked being single. But what he really liked about being single was being able to have sex with no strings attached. There were so many strings here, and Aaron knew he would be a fool to ignore something like that again. "I like being single, but I love you. I want you. I'm fucking so sorry it took my fucked up brain to realized that." He paused for a moment as he thought. "Why...why can't you have use both?" He asked, finally turning to face him again.
Quentin. When Aaron pulled himself out from under him, he could literally feel his heart break. God! The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Aaron like this. The pain was so fucking intense, it made him actually place a hand over his chest. He felt like he couldn’t even speak as his eyes scanned every painful detail of the business man’s expression. “No..” he choked out, moving to his knees on the floor directly in front of his lover before more tears fell. “That’s not what I meant. Aaron.. stop. No” he almost demanded for him to clear those thoughts from his head. “It is raw, we are raw. We’re intense, and intimate, and real. It’s always been real. Even when you wouldn’t say it, I could feel it. We have a connection. You and I. We have this...” he aggressively reached out and griped on to Aaron’s shirt over his heart. “I don’t know why not. I don’t know..” It was clear Quentin was becoming overwhelmed again and there was a slight panic burning through his eyes. “I love you both. I’m in love with you both. I just...” he let go of Aaron’s shirt and leaned back sitting on his butt and wrapping his arms around his legs. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t not be with him, Aaron. And I can’t not be with you either. I don’t wanna lose you. I don’t wanna lose either of you. But can you honestly say that you would be okay with me being with him. That you would be happy with just me? Would that be enough? Am I enough?”
Aaron Aaron absolutely lost it when Quentin grabbed her shirt over his rapidly beating heart. He squeezed his eyes shut because he knew that he would cry if he didn't. Without even a thought, he hand automatically flew up to grabbed onto the hand that was placed over his heart. His heart was equally full and ached at the same time. He loved hearing about how special they were. But why wasn't that enough? Aaron knew it was there too. It was all he could ever really feel when he was around Quentin. He felt Quentin's love the exact same way that Q had felt his. Aaron wiped his face before he turned to see Q curled up behind him. He could tell that this was just as hard for him as it was for the businessman. "Quentin, I don't want to lose you either. If you can't tell by now, I'm willing to do anything that makes you happy. If you want to be with Roman too. That's fine with me. You are so worth it, Quentin and don't think for a second that you aren't." He forced Q to look at him, wet blue eyes meeting. "I love you so much. So fucking much." He said as he took a sharp breath in. He wasn't exactly sure what he was agreeing to here. but he was sure that they'd work it out together at some point. Right now, he just needed to know that Quentin could still be his. He needed him.
Quentin. There were so many raw emotions floating wildly the room, and all around them. Quentin only wished that they could grab onto one of them like a lifeline and that everything would be perfectly fine again. Why did it have to be like this? Why was it that when Aaron told him he loved him it almost made him feel empty? He knew why. He let himself fall hopelessly in love with two different men, and he felt like he deserved to be empty. God, he wanted this so bad. He wanted Aaron to love him and to want him like this. But now that he did, he was more confused than ever. He could hear Aaron speaking but his words almost seemed echoed and distant. He was so scared of hearing him tell him to leave he didn’t wanna pay attention. His attention definitely being forced to the surface though when Aaron forced him to look at him. His eyes glossing over as he looked into his lovers teary eyes and his lips parted with a desperation he knew Aaron would understand. “I love you too, Aaron. I love you so much. Je suis amoureux de toi. Avec tout ce que j'ai.” He took a deep breath in and it finally sunk in. Did he just say he would be okay with him being with Roman? Would Roman be okay with that too? Could the three of them really be together, exclusive? Suddenly he felt really dizzy, and his hands moved to grip the side of Aaron’s face as he lifted to his knees. “J'ai besoin de toi beaucoup plus près de moi. J'ai besoin de toi. J'ai besoin de toi maintenant” he insisted. Closing the space between them as he crashed their lips together in a fervent and ravenous kiss.
Aaron Didn't Aaron deserve to be heartbroken? He did this to himself, didn't he? Why did he love to ruin all of the good things in his life? He'd ruined this for sure. He subconsciously did that on purpose because he was just so self hateful, and loved to ruin everything good. Quentin was good. He was probably one of the best things he had right now. Aaron turned his body to face Quentin completely. He face was one of fear and confusion, but he was also looking at him with so much love and compassion. Needless to say, Aaron was feeling a lot of different things right now. "je t'aime tellement, mon amour." he whispered back, even though he'd already said that to him. Now he just needed to say it in French. Aaron looked over at him with wide, blue eyes and wrapped his arms around his waist when Quentin brought his hands up to his face. His heart stopped for a moment when he said those words to him. That was confirmation enough to know that Quentin needed Aaron too, maybe just as much as Aaron needed the younger. Aaron looked up at him as Q got to his knees. He pulled him in by the waist as their lips pressed together feverishly. It had gotten heated very quickly and Aaron was humming on Q's lips in an instant. He got to his knees and pushed Quentin down onto his back. Aaron crawled on top of the barista quickly and hovered his lips just above his nose. "S'il te plait ne me laisse pas." He whispered, kissing him passionately again.(edited)
Quentin. The entire room felt like it was spinning as their lips came crashing together. His heart stopping and dropping to his stomach when Aaron pushed him back. What was happening right now? Aaron moved so fast to hover over him it left him in a bit of a haze. “I’m not gonna leave you, Aaron. I don’t want to leave you. But I don’t wanna hurt you either. I just need you to know where my hearts at, and right now it’s in two places.” His eyes were closed the entire time he spoke. But his lips were fighting hopelessly against the magnetic pull of Aaron’s hovering over his own. He wanted this man so bad. But he had to be honest, if he was anything at all, it was honest. He moved his hands to cup the back of the businessman’s neck as his fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Aaron..” he breathed out, finally opening his eyes. “Are you really okay with being with me if I’m with him?”
Aaron Aaron was suddenly panting as their noses just barely grazed past each other, eyes shut tightly. Aaron heard Quentin. He did. But he words seemed like they were somewhere in an alternative universe. Truthfully, Aaron's heart was in two places as well. He'd be upset losing both Quentin and Roman, and didn't quite understand where his head and heart were at. One thing he knew for sure was that part of his heart was with Quentin and that it would must literally be crushed if the man in front of him left him. He opened his eyes to make eye contact with Quentin, blue eyes meeting. "You have pretty much been with him Quentin. I'll be jealous. Of both of you. But it'd hurt me if you left." He swallowed hard. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you." He whispered, practically inaudibly.
#chats:aaron#chats:discord#ft.aaron#ft.roman#ft.khai#{{𝔄𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔫;; he’s sweet like candy in my veins}}#tw:death mention#tw:murder mention#tw:ptsd
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Bahamut huffed out a breath of smoke, watching the mortal with no small amount of aggravated interest. "So, what? You just gonna pretend I ain't even here, now that you got what you wanted? Dunno if I should be offended or not." He said flatly, his mortal person's voice drawling with suspicion in its tone.
He isn’t there. Can’t be. It’s all just in his head. It hasn’t been right for weeks, months even.
No matter how much he drinks, no matter how much he drugs his mind, the tremors won’t go away. Neither will that persistant whistle in the back of his head.
He takes a drag from his cigarette (it must be his own’s smoke he smells), hand shaking as he pulls it away, the tenseness in his body almost painful.
“...go away...” A mere mumble, not enough to carry far. His hand reaches for the bottle again, the need to drown everything around him out too strong to ignore.
#.questionsAsked#.answersGiven#.tw:abuse#.tw:PTSD#.tw:alcoholism#.tw:drug abuse mention#.tw:trauma#.placed this outside our current RP because I know jack shit of where that will head as of right now lol#.the L O N G E S T year verse#.don’t you dare go hollow -> [Bahamut x Seifer]#draconianfury
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A College Bartender au part 2
(( I still can't think of a name. The prequel, part one and now part two. No name. Nice. Should be able to find the prequel and part one on @pandorafics. Enjoy. @sk-1522
CW/TW: PTSD related nightmare graphics imagery in nightmare, panic attack. All which can be skipped by going to the '••°°'
-Pandora
Deep dark water pulling him down further and further underwater. His arms struggling to swim towards the surface. Where were his glasses? Oh no. Momma was going to be so mad! He can't breath oh no. No no no! Air! He needs air! ‘ Did you know an American dies on average every twelve seconds?’
... Twelve seconds
... Twelve seconds
'Logan, do something! Anything! She isn't coming! She never comes!' Logan kicked up towards the surface when he felt a familiar sting on his face. ‘ I see no point in keeping it from you when you love facts so much.’ A sharp pull downward, that was when he saw her, latched onto his ankle sinking him further below. She was screeching at him blood muddling the water around them from the hole in her head.
“Logan!”
‘ Let go of me!’
“LOGAN! “
‘ What do you want from me! What!’
“LOGAN ANTARES-”
“ -Croft? Mr. Croft?” Mr. Noctal questioned. Logan shot up out of his seat abandoning his belongings to go into the hall. He held the scar on his cheek, rubbing it gently with his fingers. His breathing fast and heavy but it didn't feel right. Nothing felt right. This was wrong, so wrong, he had been doing so well.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked away looking at the person who touched him. Tobias Noctal (or Toby as he preferred to be called) started back in concern. “ Maybe you should go to see Dr. Picani.”
“ No.” He shook his head, an accent on his statement but too breathless to explain. Toby frowned, he didn't want to see his students go through this.
“ Log-”
“ Go.” He huffed leaning against the wall he felt her hand still on his ankle he was trying to think but all he could think about was his mother on a slab in the morgue. And the note she had left behind. His head hung low. It's been years since she died why is he still feeling this way.
“ Logan whatever you're thinking about, I need you to focus on me. I am going to count to four I want you to breathe in, hold for seven while I count it out, then I'll count out eight as you exhale.” Tobias didn't give Logan the chance to counter and just started the counting exercise. Normally the counting exercise made it worse. But to hear the numbers from someone else mouth was a comfort.
••°°
It took a few times before Logan was able to breathe normally. Once he could, he straightened his tie and looked at his teacher. “ Thanks, professor Noctal.”
“ It's Toby, but whatever, go home and get some rest. The lecture is going over pages 45-76. If you feel better before the next lecture, look it over, if not, shoot me an email.” The professor held out Logans previously forsaken belongings. Logan simply nods, takes his bag and walks home.
He walked back to his apartment with head hung low, that little outburst frustrated him. Logan had maintained a professional cool demeanor, an air of wisdom for years. He has kept himself together all on his own for years. Only to become a joke in one minute. Now all he could do is build it all back up.
He shut the door quietly behind him as he entered his home. It was a one bedroom apartment with an open layout. The island in the kitchen set up with his bartending supplies to properly tutor Virgil. Who he could hear snoring in his bed in the other room.
Virgil had been fast friends with Logan since the day they met. A nineteen-year-old who had come to the ‘Twist up’ looking for work just as Logan had himself. It was Logan who had asked Remy if they would make the exception. Remy agreed on a set of conditions, Logan had to make sure the kid was trained, that the kid didn't start drinking till he was off clock and off-premise, and it could not interfere with Virgil’s education or health. Also, he was not allowed to work dance night.
Logan had explained and Virgil agreed, curious what dance night was but willing to let it go. Just like that. Logan was now an older brother. Constantly training Virgil, helping him with his school work and basically letting him come stay with him because his roommate was (as Virgil put it) extra. He didn't mind it, and so far Remy was impressed.
In exhaustion, he flopped onto the bed and curled up on his side facing away from Virgil. On top of the blankets, still in his clothes from the day, in shoes and all. And passed out. Virgil woke up looked at Logan over his shoulder and went back to sleep understanding a bad day when he saw one.
12:45
A knock on the door woke both young men. Logan groaned as he stood fixing his tie. “ Virgil, could you make coffee? I'll go see who it is.” Virgil grunted climbing out of bed. Virgil is typical subhuman upon waking, he has been forever. The nineteen-year-old slumped himself to the coffee pot as Logan slicked back his hair and opened the door to see the grin, that damn smile, attached to that beautiful face.
“ Ahh, salutations, are you prepared to study? Pardon me I don't believe I caught your name earlier.” He pushed his glasses up the slant of his nose.
“ Roman, Roman Knightly it is wonderful to see you, Logan. Yes! Studying, that is definitely why...I’m here.” Roman’s head tilted to the ground for a moment to hide his face Logan turned to lead the other inside.
Roman stayed still for a moment, that was Logan but he didn't seem quite him. He seemed tired and rigid and trying to keep up this composure. Where was that little boy who smiled waking up on the sandbank of The Bys Bay? Roman walked in slowly looking around to see a particularly neat apartment.
Except for the extensive amount of liquor set up on the counter.
#logan angst#sanders sides#logan sanders#roman sanders#pandorafics#platonic analogical#tw: panic attack#tw: mentionsofalcohol#tw:ptsd#tw: nightmares#death mention#alcohol mention#mother mention#i miss my cat#college bartender au.
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&& * ERIK * && | plotted for a starter
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY DADNETO
PIETRO WATCHED OVER HIS TWIN IN THE ROOM ADJACENT TO HIS OWN THROUGH A SMALL PLATE GLASS WINDOW, his arms crossed over his chest as he tried to contain the emotions coursing through him without being too explosive. Though, given the recent chain of events he wasn’t entirely certain what explosive would even represent anymore. Any semblance of normalcy that they might have achieved before it all came crashing down was gone. Sokovia, where they had lived for many years, where they had survived through bombings & war lords & homelessness, where they had lost their parents & their childhoods & fought for ages to make a better place - came crashing from the sky in an apocalyptic horror show. & he hadn’t even been around to see it... he hadn’t been there to hold his sister & cry with her as they watched their whole world burn for the second time in their young lives, because while she watched, he had been shot down like dog in the street. Dead. He had been dead. For two years. He woke up to find that that hadn’t even been enough. The death of their country came with a price - the Sokovia Accords - once again turning mutants into no more than government weapons. He came to find that Captain America refused such an idea, accompanied by his sister as well as half of the Avengers. Divided & fighting each other, they lost. Again. His sister was taken into custody. His imagination hadn’t needed to stretch too far to paint the familiar picture of the sick sociological games being played on the RAFT, & he did not have the luxury to hope she was being treated better. Upon his arrival, he quite quickly was able to assess the situation at hand. Wanda wasn’t simply being held here. Her time in prison was not her punishment - no. She was being tortured like a fucking prisoner of war - and it was no longer a rescue mission. It was a massacre. In a past life, Pietro Maximoff liked to imagine that he was not a violent man, that he was someone who would do better by the world, maybe even become a hero... but as he set foot on the RAFT, he realized that hero was never who he was supposed to be. His destiny had other plans. He would become the physical embodiment of W R A T H . Every guard in that prison had become a twisted heap of blood and bone, every man & woman who had ever touched his sister in any way had seen the fury in his eyes before they collapsed on the floor like a sack of meat. None of them had an easy death, though all of them were quick. He figured that a mercy. Reclaiming his sister in his arms it was evident that she would have a long recovery - she barely even recognized him as truly being there; she thought it was all in her head. Maybe it was. Wanda was a powerful witch, he would be no less surprised if she had resurrected him herself. He freed the others trapped there, barely paying attention to the wide eyes & nervous gratitude - he only wished that Clint had been there so he could thank him. It was probably for the best... he wasn’t sure Barton would want to see the monster he had created. Even Victor Frankenstein had run from his success, after all. There were only two places the twins had the option of going if they wanted to survive. There were only two places that might welcome them... Wakanda or Genosha: an island of mutant refuge run by the man who believed that mutants were the evolution of mankind, the man who would defend mutants over all else, who believed in a better world... Erik Lehnsherr... MAGNETO. Shuri had informed Pietro that Erik had been at the forefront of the movement against the government officials & supporters of the Accords, threatening anyone willing to imprison mutants, use them for their abilities, or sentence them to death. Pietro wanted to thank him in person, if for nothing else then for defending his sister when he was not able to, if for nothing else then for asking for refuge in a mutant-safe environment, if for nothing else then to ask to join the R E V O L U T I O N .
#[ well this got long really fast you totally do not have to match this length! But I am so excited about this! ]#& *c:ERIK#& *tw:PTSD#& *tw:LOSS#& *tw:DEATH MENTION#& *tw:VIOLENCE#& *tw:WAR#& *tbt:#iknowcrazy
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“When there is a connection of humanity between two people, it is the meaning of love.”
An article about how exposure therapy through online rp helped me overcome trauma.
tw: rape mention
tw: rape trauma
tw: PTSD description
I didn’t want to say this before because it was private and very personal. But when asked how the Role play community has improved my life I have this to say. No joke, roleplay helped me overcome rape trauma. SEVERE rape trauma.
98% of my characters or fandom characters I rp have dark skin when I don’t and there’s a reason. Please read all the way through before saying anything. I am sharing trauma, not making accusations at a community.
When I was 22, One of my best friends at the time decided rape was ok. He was black. I never pressed charges, I never told myself it was’ because he was black’, I never blamed anyone but him and the choice he made, I just stopped talking to him. I didn’t tell people. I just pretended it never happened and tried to move on. Because realistically, there’s no support for male rape victims. There just isn’t. Regardless of what color you are or aren’t. And while I never blamed his upbringing, or his community, or anything or that sort that didn’t change the fact that after the rape, when I was in close proximity to dark skinned people my body would freak out. I still don’t know why skin tone was what my brain tacked onto instead of something equally harmless like long nails, or brown eyes.
Even when I knew people weren’t a threat to me. My body would react in a way I had no control over, with no one to talk to it about to help me sort through wtf was going on. I was effectively trapped. I was trapped dealing with PTSD when I had no name for what was even going on.
I would get nausea, break out in sweats, panic and get some SEVERE ‘fight or flight’ responses and was always horrified of these reactions I had no control over being the cause of hurting someone. I was always terrified that I would snap in the throes of a panic attack I had no weapons to fight against and deck someone. So I hid it away in a little jar. I never did hit anyone. Not once. I did a lot of running away instead in multiple senses of the word. From myself, from what happened. I ran away from all of it.
And one day I was on the train about a year after the rape, A black man sat next to me. PTSD reared it’s ugly head and I jumped out of my seat faster than if I had been sitting on hot coals. He said “Wow that’s fucked up.”
To his eyes, I was just some racist. A logical conclusion given my reaction. But I was in the middle of severe fight or flight and I was terrified of it hurting him because I had no control over wtf was happening with my body. The first trauma induced reaction was “FIGHT”. The one that immediately followed, the reaction that was ME and not my trauma was “PROTECT HIM. ” so I jumped out of the seat because it was all I knew how to do to deal with this beast in my head I had no control over. I didn’t want that creature coming anywhere near him. Near anyone.
And then I cried, pleading on the train in front of everyone. There was no hiding it. He deserved to know it wasn’t him, because in trying to flee from the panic, I had also hurt him. This wasn’t okay with me. I broke down and told him
“No no please. It’s not you. You’ve done nothing wrong. I was raped by someone black and my Body just. REACTS. I have no control over it, it just does it even when I know people aren’t like that. I jumped away because I don’t know how to keep you safe when I have no control over what my body is going through. It is not your fault. I’m dealing with some severe shit and I’m genuinely just scared of hurting someone when my body flips out. I’m SO SORRY. I know it looks awful, please forgive me, I don’t hate you.”
What happened next changed everything.
He gave me compassion, understanding, kindness, and love. He took one look at me and said ,
“You know, My wife is going through the same thing right now and I’m going to tell you what I told her. Take the time you need to heal and stop beating yourself up. It’s not just other people you have to worry about, it’s you too. You’re never going to get better unless you take the time to heal. Part of healing is learning to pick the lock on the slave collar they put around your neck when they hurt you so badly.”
Me, being a blubbering wreck and mentally frazzled didn’t quite pick up on it then and he explained.
“You said yourself you had no control. Panic makes you feel helpless, but that doesn’t mean you actually are. Panic has a way of fooling you into believing that. “ This line right here, CLICKED. This sentence had been the lock picks I had so desperately needed.
He told me to google PTSD when I got home. I did and realized, not only had he handed me lock picks, but by giving me a word for what was happening to me, he also gave me the full manual on how to use said lock picks. I think of this person often and thank them profusely from the bottom of my heart. All for a set of lock picks.
What does this have to do with rp you ask? I’m getting there <3
This was the point in life that I really started to take on the fight against my trauma. He was 100% right. I was a slave to this anxiety that had been left behind. Drugs weren’t going to fix that. Drugs don’t make that go away. I knew because I already had anti depressants.
So I made characters with dark skin, or chose characters to rp with dark skin. And I fell in love with them as they grew and developed into fully fleshed out characters. They Made friends with other characters of every color under the sun. Characters that people in the role play community wrote. They Laughed, loved , cried. And the whole time I was right there with them. Also laughing , loving and crying. I never forgot that people are people, and the only one responsible for what I had to go through was the person who hurt me. But my body forgot, and this helped like you wouldn’t believe.
No joke, it reversed the trauma entirely. Because it was absolutely impossible to have bad reactions to characters I had made, not just made, but made to be like the man on the train. Characters that carried kindness, compassion, love, and understanding and above all else HUMANITY.
When you write characters like this, or read stories with characters with these qualities, it reminds you just how important these traits are in everyday life. It reminds you how important it is to be human.
“When there is a connection of humanity between two people, it is the meaning of love.”
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Dark Content
tw:Death, tw:COVID, tw:PTSD, tw:Medical talk, tw:rape mention
It took me longer than it really should have to sit down and type this up. I don’t know if this is going to help but I hope that it helps some of you understand and to calm down when you get up in arms about dark content.
As some of you know I’m a smut writer here. Most of what I share here now is smut. However if you were to take those pieces and assume my sexual activity about me you would be very, very wrong. I am on the asexual spectrum and my husband and I have never had penetrative sex. It’s not for me. Hell most times in general I find sex to be gross and repulsive. And yet there seems to be this mindset here that if I write it, it must mean I want it. I’m not even really a dark content writer, and yet I still see that. Why?
I think some of you really need to grasp the concept that just because we have stuff that we enjoy writing and reading does not mean we enjoy it in real life or support it in real life.
Fiction is a safe space for us to explore things. Not just writers but readers as well. I can enjoy exploring dynamics but that doesn’t mean that it’s something I would want in my real life. Take for example....I had the chance once to write a fic (not here) with a religious cult environment. It was super toxic and dangerous and that was part of the intrigue. It raised the stakes and honestly the dynamic was fun to explore. But I would in no way, shape or form want to be in that environment myself.
Not only can writing this stuff be a way to explore things safely, it can also be a way to process and help handle traumas and stresses. My fic Biohazard, is focused around the pandemic and some of the uglier sides of the medical field in addition to a romance/sex plot. And I literally write it because I am a responder knee deep in the trenches of this fucking pandemic. I decided to share that because while it’s helping me, it might also help others.
I write things because I want to and because they help me and because I can explore things safely in the sanctum of fiction. But what is safe for me may not be safe for others and that is literally why the warnings and tags exist.
I’m going to be honest: it is incredibly hard not to be angry with a lot of you antis right now. Like a deep primal rage in me that could rival the heat of the sun. We are living in a time of a global crisis with an awful virus. I am watching in real time so many people DIE from this pandemic and die alone. Our entire medical system is being taxed to the fucking brink and we have a thousand and one problems that need to be fixed. A thousand and one hurtles to champion for and what do you pick?
Two D fucking lines.
With all the time and energy some of you sink into this, you could actually address real world problems that are actively happening right now. But the fact is...most of you don’t want to actually “fix” anything. You want to destroy other people to elevate yourself and you pick an outlet that makes you have the “moral high ground” so to speak.
And I am so goddamn tired of it.
Like I’m not saying you have to LIKE the content. Or even approve. But you literally don’t know anything about that person other than what they write out and believe it or not, fanfiction of any sort is not some kind of manifesto that authors put out on what we want in real life. It’s not a check list. It’s ok to not like the content. Just keep moving on with your life. Block the tag, filter it out and keep scrolling.
I don’t really talk about my experiences on here because one it’s a very personal thing and two a lot of what I see? It’s not something the average person can just hear casually. But I can tell you now in my line of work not only do I see grisly things, bloody things, violent things but I’ve also seen the effects of abuse on people. I have seen first fucking hand the look on someone’s face when they realized “someone just tried to kill me” or “that person nearly raped me”.
You want to champion victims? Then go actively donate and support organizations or are supposed to actually help those survivors, not harass anonymous strangers over the internet that you make assumptions about without even knowing them based on their content. You want to make a change? Then go find ways to help the organizations that are dedicated to helping those people instead of directing that on fanfiction.
#wyvern wheezes#tw: discourse#tw:death#tw:violence#tw:medical talk#tw:rape mention#there are people actually dying right now#people suffering#REAL PEOPLE#NOT FICTIONAL FUCKING CHARACTERS#MAYBE YOU SHOULD FOCUS ON THEM
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“If that is how you feel, then get out.” (Verdant)
Verdant knew the long term effects of Jame’s plan. He understood why he was doing it, but there was one distinct difference between the two tired men right now: James was acting on a PTSD attack, and Verdant knew he wasn’t of sound mind. He couldn’t call him out on that, that wouldn’t help. The man couldn’t stand there though, Verdant had to do something.
“And do fuckin’ what, James? Let you kill off half th’ place sworn tah be protected? You’re cuttin’ off my entire lively hood and the people who trust me an’ you to help take care of ‘em, or they now dead weight too.?! Yer not thinkin’ ‘bout the long term effects, they’re goin’ to do more harm than fuckin’ good!”
None of this was going to get through his head. This was likely a futile argument. Snapdragons didn’t let their emotions go unheard though. That just wasn’t how they were raised. You stood your ground.
“You’ve lied to me about so many things for so long, up until recently because you though’ it was for the best. To make sure it was safe, to protect me.” He shook his head. “We’ve been good friends for ages, James. You’ve taken care o’ me, and I’ve taken care o’ you... but this ain’t you.”
Verdant knew his daughter and her team would be safe. The martial law call wouldn’t keep them in Jame’s employ. That’s not how that worked for what they were meant to do. Baila wasn’t going to be happy.
“You need me right now, but if you think for a second I’m going to let you fuckin’ make th’ wors’ decision of your life... you can try and arrest me yourself.”
Verdant wouldn’t go without a fight. He knew James knew that.
#ORCD Associate: Verdant#RWBY 7 Spoilers#tw:ptsd mention#this is after he makes sure his kid is okay because man has priorities#that got long#heart of iron
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Make a post fully out of auto fill!
Tw:PTSD, cult mention, other?
I have a service dog for my anxiety and PTSD and I was confused when religious episodes popped up to me and said we could all Jonestown it and now I'm gonna go stab at the moment but I think I look really happy and they think nothing's wrong with me so people think I fake having a service dog for my anxiety and PTSD
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I Just Need a Break Part 8
Pairing: Sam x reader, past Dean x reader
Word count: 2153
Warnings: Angst, a ton of it. TW:PTSD, vague mentions of past abuse but nothing graphic.
Summary: Trying to start a new life with Sam, it is like trying to start a car with no engine. The parts might look ok on the outside but inside everything is just wrong.
A/N: Wow, this is getting so long. Mostly this is set up for what happens in the next chapter. Read past parts here....
Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven
After hours of driving, in what seemed like a fairly aimless fashion Sam pulled off onto a small gravel road. The car jostled up and down and you held onto the edge of the door. Pulling up you saw a small cabin. It wasn’t any spectacular but it looked quaint surrounded by trees with a little brick chimney peaking up from the sharply angled roof.
Sam turned to face you, “honey were home.”
You couldn’t control the words that sprang out next, “dude are you insane?”
His face faltered slightly, and you felt guilty. Thought the idea that Sam had found a place where the both of you were supposed to live like some nuclear family was worrisome. Sure, it was something out of fairy tale, the hero rescues the princess and they sail away into the sunset but you hadn’t spent most of your life hunting to know that most of the time even those ended badly. Recovering from the shock after your initial reaction you tried to reel it in.
“I’m sorry,” you smiled, “lets go check it out.”
Hopping out of the car, he walked quickly to your side to open it for you. He grabbed your hand and lead you up to the entryway of the place, the paint was flaking off slightly and you could picture when it was first painted being a deep blood red, but now it all looked a muted pastel color.
The door creaked a little as Sam jiggled the knob and used his should to force it open. He scooped you into his arms and you hit his chest lightheartedly, “What are you doing?”
Carrying you bridal style until he stepped over the threshold, he set you back down on your feet, “it’s tradition right?”
Rolling your eyes at him you added, “wrong tradition, you haven’t even proposed yet.” Your stomach dropped hastily, “I mean, not that you would it is just...” you stammered.
He, thankfully, ignored you to grab your hand again. Leading you into the tiny kitchen, then the living room, and finally the bedroom. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it did come with the basics. There was a bed, you didn’t want to imagine who slept in before you would, a couch and a small table. Plus a random assortment of other little things but it all meant you wouldn’t be sleeping on the wood floors.
“I like it.” You hugged yourself against his side, feeling that this might not be the worst situation you could imagine.
“Good,” he leaned his head on top of yours, “I think its going to be great.”
You were glad that Sam had managed to keep a stash of old stolen credit cards as you made your way through a small department store in the town a few miles away. You sat in the car and waited tensely for Sam to pick you out clothes enabling you to at least go out places and not have to wear his stuff, he was also going to grab food and other random necessities for your new place.
You tapped your finger restlessly against the window, looking out onto the empty parking lot. It was the middle of the day on a Thursday so not peak shopping hours, but being out in the open made you feel nervous. You let your mind wander back to all of the texts that you had seen on Sam’s phone from his brother. Assuming that he didn’t have a clue where you both were was not a huge comfort after what had happened.
At the squeal of metal you tensed your body, the sharp string of the door smacking against your funny bone made you yelp.
“What did you do?” It had only been Sam loading things into the car.
“Nothing, just a little jumpy still.”
He tucked your hair behind your ear. You pressed into his palm, feeling the warmth of his touch bringing you back to this crazy circumstance. You were sitting here playing house with the man you loved, you wished you could enjoy it more, making up your mind that you were going to do your best to make this work.
“Hey can I carry something,” you watch as Sam tried to balance all of the bags on his arms.
Using his foot, he kicked the backdoor closed on the car, “Nope, I got it.”
“I’ll go get the door,” you walked ahead of him doing your best to shove it open even though, clearly it liked to stick. Your pushed your weight into it and finally it swung open.
Sam started putting things down in the kitchen and put away all your new housewares. He paused, handing you a bag the plastic was starting to tear out at the bottom it was so full.
“Fashion show?” He glanced at you, his grin was innocent and you shook your head yes.
Wanting to get his attention however you started to tug his oversized shirt past your ears, you could feel static clinging to your hair, you dropped it on the floor. Letting yourself smirk as Sam eyed you with obvious interest, his tongue darted out across his bottom lip. It spurred you on to wiggle his pants off your hips. You had been forgoing wearing anything underneath the clothes so you were totally bare.
Bending, you exaggerated the movement as you got into the bag of clothes and slowly slipped on one of the tank tops he had picked out, it was snug, clinging to your body and revealing your peaked nipples. You picked through a few more items and found some denim shorts, and slipped them on. Doing a quick twirl you paused facing him, “so what do you think?”
He slid a hand along your clavicle, the tips of his fingers danced over your chest, and then he was stepping closer to you. The space between your bodies non existent. Instead of taking you right there like you were expecting he clasped his hands at the small of your back.
“Your not ready,” he leaned his face against yours.
You started to push away from him, angry tears forming, but he held tight. So you went slack against him. You knew he was right, it wasn’t only physical, you wanted to be with Sam to further erase what had been done to you. Waiting would be hard, trying to escape what had happened, but this would possibly secure your future with him.
You squirmed out of his grasp, he was peering at you his hair falling into his face and frowning, you ran your fingers through it to try and show it wasn’t out of anger you pulling away now.
“Your right, I know we should wait,” besides adding a light kiss against him there wasn’t anything to add. You grabbed the clothes that were scattered from you digging threw it and heaped them in your arms as best you could and carried it upstairs. If you felt the weight of Sam’s gaze on your back, you didn’t let it slow you down.
Night fell around the tiny home you were going to share with him, and you laid against the new sheets he had placed on the bed earlier. You copied the little floral design absently, not able to sleep but not awake enough to try setting up anymore of the house.
The bed sank down at Sam’s added weight, even though you mind had been going non-stop since the events earlier, you were calmed by the way he immediately spooned up against you. His intimacy making you feel quieted. You tried to shut down and let your mind go blank but after a few moments you started to squirm, you had a sinking feeling that as soon as you feel asleep the nightmares would start and it made your chest tighten.
Climbing out of bed you walked out of the bedroom and over to where Sam had set up the coffee maker. You pushed buttons and pulled out a filter and did what you needed to get some caffeine. After a while you could hear the steady drip, and you drummed against the counter impatient to get what you needed to stay awake. When you saw there was enough for a cup, you poured it into one of the mugs Sam had picked out, ‘worlds best dad’ it proclaimed, you shook you head.
“Coffee huh? Isn’t it little late,” you looked over the top of your mug to see him wiping a hand over his eyes and mouthing the words between a yawn.
You shook your head, miming a no, “I thought maybe I could start trying to find us a case or something nearby.”
He sat down, kicking up his feet onto the already scuffed table, watching you move around the kitchen and living room. Trying to balance the laptop, a local newspaper, and your coffee, you grimaced as you felt something wet dripping onto your foot and down the legs of your pj pants. Sam hopped up quickly, rushing over to help take your mug and bring it over to the table, then carefully sat back down.
“What?” You asked Sam, after you had seated yourself across from him, shuffling through the newsprint.
He looked at you guiltily, you had seen the strange expression on his face in your peripheral vision, it was the kind of thing that screamed ‘I’m worried’.
“So, maybe stop giving me the puppy dog face,” you were trying to keep a even expression but you knew your tone was giving it away as being more than a joke.
He pushed the laptop closed, the last thing you saw on the screen had been a headline about a man falling off the roof of a ten story building, and then you saw the shaggy hair framing the biggest frown imaginable.
“If I were making any face,” he said as you carefully avoided any eye contact, “then what it would be saying is that this is not like you.”
Debating what you next move should be, you knew you had two options, storm out which was what you wanted but would prove his point, or stay and continue having the worlds most pointless argument. Sam knew what was wrong, but couldn’t find a way to openly discuss it because everything came back to Dean. They were blood, and that was always going to be there, no matter how much he cared about you.
So you just sat, lips pressed together, and waited for him to unload all of his problems with all of yours.
“I know this can’t be easy for you, I saw what he did, ok?”
Picking up the laptop, you threw it on the ground, pieces scattered across the floor some slipping under the fridge and stove. Sam shielded his face from the plastic shards, but it just gave you an opportunity to keep smashing things, next was the little ceramic mug. The remains of your cold coffee spraying out, finally though as you heaved in breaths you felt him grab your arm as it was getting ready to throw your cell phone.
Yanking yourself away from him, you turned to level him with a harsh glare, “you saw what he did? That’s what we’re going to go with Sam?” The words were rushing out of you but even though you were pissed they were said in a whisper, “I go to sleep and I dream of it, I stay awake and it’s all I think about, and then you bring me out here in the middle of nowhere so we don’t ever have to face it.”
He actually recoiled at that, it was as if you had punched him, and in a way you wished you had. You knew you were angry but the truth was trying to pretend like you were here in this house with him because you were both so in love was wearing you down, this was nothing more than a hideout, and it was an insult to how you felt about Sam.
Calming yourself you went and grabbed the broom from the corner, it had come with the place and was so dirty you felt it defeated its purpose, then you started to sweep up piles and toss them into the garbage. Watching as the pieces tumbled in feeling that this was never going to end.
You felt his hand cusp the back of your neck, turning around and letting the broom clatter onto the floor, you wrapped yourself around him in a hug. Noticing that you were shaking slightly but you couldn’t be sure if it was residual anger or just absolute sadness.
“I don’t know how we can keep pretending that this is all happening because we finally found each other,” you pressed against him further.
“We aren’t pretending, things are more complicated, that’s all,” he said..
It was enough to have you knowing with certainty that he was going to play out the charade for a while longer.
Letting you go, he moved to finish cleaning up the mess you had made, and you bent down to help him. After a while the evidence of your outburst was gone and Sam went back into the room to lay down. You weren’t tired but you followed him anyway, and this time when you couldn’t sleep you laid there and listened to his breathing.
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