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camsthisky · 3 years

Note

"you’re not alone . you’re stuck with me forever . sorry . ” + Jason and Dick (and anyone other family member)?

“Everyone okay?” Dick croaks as the dust and rubble settles around them. He’s lying on his back, kept still by something pinning his legs down. He doesn’t dare assess himself quite yet. “Hood? Batgirl?”

“Okay,” Cass says, and Dick watches as she stumbles over to him, looking dusty, but relatively alright. She kneels next to him with a frown. She meets his eyes—well, relatively since they’re both wearing masks—and asks, “Okay?”

Dick grimaces. “Not really.” Louder, he calls, “Red Hood?!”

“Here, here,” Jason says, coughing into his fist. He’s missing his helmet and there’s a gash sluggishly bleeding from his right cheek, smearing a trail of blood down his face. He’s also limping, but only slightly.

“Can you move?” Cass asks Dick as Jason pulls out his flashlight.

Dick winces at the sudden light, his mask having already automatically switched to night vision. He huffs. “Jay. Off.”

“Names.”

Dick scowls. “The light.”

“Deal with it,” Jason snaps. “My night vision isn’t working.”

Dick turns off his own night vision feature, if only to not be blinded by the damn flashlight if it passes over his eyes again.

That’s when Jason’s flashlight lands on where Dick is pinned.

“Crap,” Jason breathes.

“Can you move them?” Cass asks, sounding a touch more impatient, and Dick realizes that Cass has already asked once. “Your legs.”

“No,” says Dick, just barely trying. He’s tired, but he knows that time is up. He can’t get away with ignoring his own situation any longer. Probably shouldn’t have even waited this long. His legs are tingling from lack of blood flow, mixing with a sharp pain shooting through them both. Still he’s lucky, because—“I can still feel them, though.”

“We’ll lift,” Jason says to Cass, who nods. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable pain of rubble being lifted off his crushed legs.

“Hhh.”

The sounds he makes is nothing more than an agonized hissed through his teeth, and Dick can’t help the cold sweat that sweeps across his body in a slow wave as his siblings manage to move the slab of—wall, maybe? who knows, really—from where it’s crushing his poor legs.

Something taps against his shinbone and then his kneecap.

“Stop, stop, I feel it,” Dick gasps, bringing his legs up in a protective curl as pain throbs through most of his lower body. His left hip hurts like hell, and his every muscle, bone, and tendon feels like they’ve been squeezed and then flattened like a pancake. He rolls over onto his side so he can bring his knees up to his chest, to wait out the lingering intensity of the pain.

“Breathe,” Cass says.

Dick breathes.

He closes his eyes and blocks out everything and, again, just breathes. His siblings let him.

When he has a better grasp on his agony, Dick finally relaxes. The world filters back in. Cass is running fingers through Dick’s dusty hair (something she one hundred percent learned from Bruce, because only a select few know how much the motion tends to calm him down).

On the other hand, Dick blinks his eyes open to find Jason agitatedly pacing.

“The hell?” Jason murmurs, his flashlight whipping back and forth with his movements as he surveys their surroundings. “Did we get completely sealed in?”

Dick wishes desperately he would stop. Even without night vision, Jason’s impromptu strobe light effect is causing Dick’s head to ache. Instead of saying this, he hums contemplatively. “Wonder if there’s a signal this far down.”

Jason huffs, not slowing in the least. He’s searching for something, and dear god does Dick want him to find it already. “You’re the one with the comms in your ear. You try it.”

They’re in the sewers, is the thing. And while Bruce and Babs have designed the comms system to work incredibly well, even in the sewers, the signal still needs to be able to make it to the system in order to be functional.

With the three of them sealed in this place, seemingly with no way out, pretty deep in the sewer system where they had been disabling bombs throughout the city, Dick isn’t optimistic about their chances of getting a signal.

(They’d just been a few seconds too late for that last bomb, which unfortunately led them to their current circumstances.)

While Jason grumbles, Cass activates her emergency signal and the comms. She calls out, “Batman? Oracle?”

Jason shuts up for the five seconds before Cass looks between both Dick and Jason and shakes her head.

Dick lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He hadn’t really held out much hope for that anyways.

Jason groans. “Holy batcannoli, I can’t believe we’re stuck down here. And where’s my hecking helmet?!”

Cass helpfully points to the rubble sealing them in. Jason kicks a rock with a yell. Dick sighs.

“Well, at least you’re not alone down here,” Dick says as optimistically as he can—although, given the circumstances, it does fall a little flat.

Jason snorts. “Right. Sure, Batgirl is an asset, but you’re a sack of bruised bones right now. That’s not helpful in the slightest, Dickface.”

Dick’s eyelashes flutter of their own accord. He hums. “Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry.”

“Dick,” Cass says, her fingers tracing lightly over his face. “Stay awake.”

“I am awake.”

“You’re starting to—” Cass pauses. Dick can’t see the look on her face, because somehow, his eyes have fully closed without his permission, and he can’t seem to find the strength to open them again. “—to slur.”

The sounds of Jason’s pacing stop. Silence rings loud in their sealed section of the sewers. Then, “Did he hit his head?”

“Not sure,” Cass answers.

“Dick,” Jason says, sounding quite a bit closer, like he’s maybe crouching down next to Cass or something—but Dick hadn’t heard him move, and Jason’s boots are too clunky to not make sound against the concrete. “Dick, did you hit your head?”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t remember hitting his head. The only thing he clearly remembers about the blast is heavy pieces of rubble crushing his legs. “Maybe?”

“Great,” Jason says. He’s pulling out his I’m-rolling-my-eyes-at-your-ridiculous-incompetency voice. “So my bruised bones of a big brother probably also has a concussion. Just great.”

“It’s not his fault he’s injured,” Cass tells Jason. “He was disarming the bomb.”

Which means Dick took the brunt of the blast when it was remotely activated.

Dick really means to tack onto Cass’s statement, maybe tease Jason a little and try to reassure both his younger siblings that not everything is hopeless, because he’s the best big brother ever, of course.

Only, he can’t find the strength to open his mouth and talk. Instead, the voices around him become watery, distorted, and Dick’s head flares in pain.

When unconsciousness comes to take him, he doesn’t resist.

—

“—manage to even find us in the first place?” is the first thing Dick hears as he swims back to consciousness. Jason almost sounds relieved.

“The seismic device didn’t just affect the sewers,” someone replies. It takes a lot of effort for Dick to recognize it as Tim. “A couple buildings partially collapsed, and since we knew the three of you were down here, it was a good starting point to look when none of you would answer the comms.”

“Huh,” is all Jason says.

“Nightwing,” Bruce says, startling Dick from the dazed lull he’d been in as he listened to his brothers talking. He opens his eyes, blinking up bewilderingly at what he can see of Bruce’s face behind the cowl.

“B?” Dick murmurs. He doesn’t move, yet, from where’s curled on his side, but he feels an abortive twitch of his fingers at the reassuring sight of Batman. “‘S goin’ on?”

“What do you remember?”

Right. Bruce did not give easy answers. Life is a series of puzzles, Dick Grayson, fueled by none other than Bruce Wayne himself.

Dick frowns and casts his mind back. “The wall blew up,” he decides. “I got hurt?”

He’s only half sure about that last one, but considering his position on the ground, the throbbing in his head and hip, and Bruce’s concerned dad frown that’s taking over his Batman grimace, Dick thinks that he’s probably on the right track.

“Concussion,” Cass says, startling Dick when she pops her head over Bruce’s shoulder. “Also, ‘a sack of bruised bones.’”

That—sounds familiar. He thinks he remembers Jason saying something like that.

Bruce’s frown gets deeper. “Straighten your legs.”

“Please,” Dick tacks on for Bruce when he lacks the manners to be nice, basically on instinct at this point, even as he—slowly, and with a great deal of agony—does what Bruce tells him to do.

They go through a couple more tests, until finally Bruce, unhappy, deems, “We need to move you.”

Dick blinks when Bruce turns away to murmur something to one of the others. A conversation washes over him, and Dick can’t help but let himself tune it out. The noise settles as vague humming—indistinct and comforting.

“—two, three,” Bruce says as Dick’s entire vision goes white.

He only manages to come back to himself in increments.

There are arms holding him tight. Familiar murmurs in his ear. The comforting sound of Batman’s heavy cape brushing against concrete.

“—there, Chum,” Bruce is saying, and if Dick had the capability, he would have teased Bruce for pulling out both the concerned dad frown and the concerned dad voice in one night.

As it is, the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it are harsh pants for air. Every step jostles him, and agony is his constant companion throughout the entire journey to the surface.

Somehow, Dick is still conscious when he’s laid down in the backseat of the batmobile. He’s grateful he’s not moving anymore, and carefully doesn’t think of the upcoming ride back to the Cave.

He only really starts to relax when Bruce settles the cape over him. Wrapped up inside it, Dick almost feels like he’s ten years old again. Batman’s has always felt like warmth and protection and home. This time is no different.

“Batgirl and Robin, keep Nightwing as still as possible. Red Hood, in the front. Start updating Oracle.”

“Why do they—”

“You’re too bulky, Hood. Me and Batgirl are smaller than you. It’s still going to be a tight fit, but it’s the most comfortable for everyone this way.”

“Whatever.”

“Enough. Car. Now.”

There’s lots of careful but hurried scrambling. Dick thinks he passes out a few times on the way back. He doesn’t remember much, either. Just bits and snatches here and there—His siblings talking to him, Bruce giving orders, Jason being snappy and unwittingly dragging Tim into an argument.

And then—he wakes up. A lot more clear-headed than he’d felt the last time he’d been conscious (though, that wasn’t saying much).

To Dick’s surprise, he’s on his side again, dressed in sweats with a pillow between his legs. He opens his eyes to the Wayne Manor living room, and—yes, he’s on the couch. The curtains are drawn, but it’s clearly sometime past sunrise.

Bruce is sitting cross-legged in front of him, reading a book.

“Bruce?” Dick calls, his voice still somewhat slurred. “Why’m I on the couch?”

“You started crying when I said you had to stay in the infirmary,” Bruce tells him, grabbing a bookmark and setting his book off to the side.

Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember that. Still, he manages to say, “You’re such a pushover.”

“How do you feel?”

Dick blinks a dozen times in a row, trying to assess his body and keep up with the change in subject. “Kinda woozy. My hip hurts a lot.”

“Hn.”

“Think I need to brush up on my Bat speak,” Dick murmurs. “Dunno what that one meant.”

Bruce hums again. “You’re incredibly lucky. We’ll need to be careful for the next few weeks.”

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Crush injuries to your legs and left hip. Not overly severe, and we managed to stabilize you once we realized you were in shock.”

Dick thinks about that for a second. “Concussion? I’m pretty sure I remember something about a concussion.”

“It’s mild,” Bruce tells him. “It was the shock that was the real problem.”

“Oh.” Dick sighs into the pillow under his head. “I’m tired.”

Bruce gives him a soft smile, just slight enough that if Dick hadn’t been so familiar with Bruce’s microexpressions, he would have thought he’d been mistaken. Fingers lightly card through his hair, and Dick’s eyes start closing of their own accord.

“Then sleep,” Bruce says.

Dick sleeps.

#dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #batclan #dc #camryn writes #brambleberrycottage #thank you for the prompt and your wonderful support!!!!

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [12]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, ptsd, abuse, death

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: two more chapters to go after this + an epilogue i haven’t written yet fdkjghdfkhg. things pick up next chapter don’t worry. i’d love to know your favourite parts so far if you have any!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Your first home, from what you could remember, was the overcrowded hall you shared with kids in and around your age.

There was too much noise. Always too much noise.

Even when the children were in their classes, there was always someone whose cries you could hear in the distance when they realised they had nowhere else to go, peals of laughter during lunch breaks, excited whispers when someone came to visit, nervous excuses when belongings went missing.

The orphanage you were brought up in was no place for a child. It was underfunded and an utterly miserable sight. But you made your first friends there. A fiery redhead and a boy who resembled a puppy with his shiny blonde hair and blue eyes. Their names escaped you now.

Within structured schedules and learning to stow away candy left behind by volunteers so that they weren’t taken away by others, you found relief. You didn’t have a family. Caregivers came and went more than the seasons changed. But maybe what the girl and boy gave you came close. As close as six year olds could get, anyway.

They were picked before you. The red head left first, and a few months later was the last you saw of the boy. You often wondered where they were, how they were doing. You never truly got answers, but it wasn’t like you went searching.

You waited another year. They didn’t return. By then a man with a leather jacket who suspiciously wore sunglasses indoors had filled out the paperwork for you and two other kids. You had never interacted with them before until then. A few years down the line you were the only one of the three that remained anyway.

Your second house was in a dark hall. You weren’t allowed to roam around on your own; no one cared if you were 8 or 18. If you needed to be out of the way, you’d be out.

The man who pulled you out of the orphanage you never saw again. A secret adoption, you found out years later, so that no one would know of your existence. All the paperwork he filled out would have mysteriously been destroyed. To the world, you never existed and outside the organisation you were simply another kid who slipped through the cracks.

He disappeared after you were introduced to another who looked to be in his late twenties. He nicknamed you Buttercup, introducing you as the newest member of his cartel. He told you you were delicate, that he’d give you purpose you didn’t think you could have.

The room was inconceivably small. It barely squeezed in a bed and a small closet with a few changes of clothes. It was dark and congested but it enamoured you. Something to yourself. You didn’t have to fight over it with others who had just as little as you.

The man let you hang around with him. He’d show you the artillery, the large fighting rings with men in them beating each other half to death, the rooms he’d hold meetings with where the lighting was a little darker than the rest. He said it made him look menacing and they needed that where he was working. You giggled.

You found a home with the man who was razor sharp and acidic but insisted it was out of love. You wanted to impress him so badly; begged him to let you in the ring, to wield a gun. He’d only shake his head no, saying that he was waiting for the right time.

For two years you were invited to see what would happen if someone disappointed him. Your first encounter with death was a man who had dared to run away. A bullet in his head later you realised that was the best way to kill someone. His favourite way. And you just wanted to be his favourite.

He didn’t take it easier just because you were ten. He only stopped them from fully killing you.

“All these broken bones will heal,” he had said, “but you will always remember the pain. The minute you forget, it will happen again.”

So you didn’t forget. You observed and tried, and kicked yourself twice for every one mistake you made. Every time you’d look towards him for approval, he’d shake his head and point out everything wrong. You hated it. You hated it so fucking much.

The rage you kept building had only one outlet, the one he provided. So it became instinct. It was all you knew.

You found a home with a man you wanted to impress so bad, you never stopped to ask for what. To him, it was repayment for giving you purpose.

When you were fourteen you realised that no, the feeling in your stomach wasn’t from the previous week’s sparring session. It was butterflies. And for the grumpy new kid nonetheless.

He was your age, but missing an arm and couldn’t remember how or why. You didn’t ask him many questions. He was silent, and a little grouchy, which you didn’t like. But you did like when he offered his hand to you after a fight and you did like the nice smile he occasionally had.

You found a new home with his silent company and non-judgemental looks. He always seemed a little sad, like he was searching for something else. He was an excellent marksman and wasn't bad at hand to hand either.

He’d hang around your new room, one that was bigger than your initial place. You’d talk about new techniques you picked up. He talked about how he wished he remembered where he came from.

He was a friend. You needed one.

You remembered the night you were roughly shaken awake to the same boy saying he was going to be taken in the morning to the other centre. A permanent shift for reasons he didn’t know.

You didn’t get a chance to ask how or why, but in the flurry of him explaining that he had to go before someone noticed he left his room, he pressed a kiss to your lips in a rushed goodbye and ran back to the darkness. You were dazed for the rest of the night. You didn’t see him in the morning.

When you asked Ransone why he was gone, he mutely said that he was a distraction. You couldn’t afford one. He didn’t explain any further, no matter how much you begged.

Similar friends found themselves entering and exiting your life just as this boy did. You stopped keeping track. It hurt too much to wake up one morning to learn they weren’t there. You wondered why the influx of kids never stopped if you weren’t supposed to be friends with them.

You realised years later that they were sent there to be ripped away from you as soon as possible. To toughen you up.

He wouldn’t get rid of something immediately, not if it could be used to hurt you.

Your first mission was when you were fifteen. It was a small time thing; go threaten a man in his house so that he thought twice before crossing Ransone again. You did exactly as you were told, except while you were leaving you heard the cocking of a gun. You spun around and shot him in the shoulder, temporarily disabling him as you left. He cowered on the ground.

You couldn't find anyone as you stumbled back to the centre. There wasn’t a friend who you could vent to. All you had was Ransone. He congratulated you on your first shot, ignoring the trembling of your body and the redness that rimmed your eyes.

You realised that his approval didn’t mean so much to you anymore. If your only purpose was to harm, it wasn’t what you wanted. Not like you had a choice.

Then there was Scott, only brought in for minor things like breaking and entering. He was a funny one and you found yourself spending more and more time with him whenever he did show up. You pulled away when you realised that he was going to end up gone like the rest of the people when Ransone realised that you were paying more attention to him than you should.

He was a sneaky one though; climbed in during nights only to disappear by dawn before anyone saw. He was infectiously light, different from the darkness you were used to seeing. You sought out his brightness, his warmth and he happily gave it to you in unlit corridors and midnight trips that had your adrenaline spiking.

Scott lasted longer than anyone else. They didn’t consider him important enough to pay attention to and he never gave them any chance of doing it. He was, what you wanted to believe, your first love. Or what it felt like anyway, love was scarce and so you clung onto whatever he offered.

There was a home in Scott that you wanted to keep alive. You found solace in his flustered repetitions and occasional cheesy magic trick. He made you laugh, and it lit up his face when you leaned over and kissed him gently.

When you got the news that he was killed in a heist gone wrong, you didn’t feel anything for days. The man who broke the news to you looked at you with undertones of pity.

Everyone knew it wasn’t an accident.

You didn’t bring it up with Ransone and simply ignored it when he called it a good riddance even though he would be missed. If you listened to everything he said, you were afraid that you would just kill him.

It was excruciating. You didn’t have anyone to talk to. Only Ransone, as he kept reminding you.

“I’m the only one who cares about you, Buttercup,” he cooed and you clenched your eyes shut. “We’re family.”

No more relationships happened after that. Occasional coworkers-with-benefits but nothing that crossed that. You hadn’t had a friend in years, and Ransone was more than pleased to keep it that way. He was the only constant you’d had your entire life, willingly or not.

People were placed in your way to only inform Ransone of what new updates were in your life. Once they sent whatever information he needed his way, they’d automatically be removed. Everyone had a hidden agenda. Everyone had a specific reason to want to talk to you.

You just let them. What was the point of trying to hide it? You weren’t going to escape any time soon.

“Your only home,” Ransone reminded you, “is here with me.”

You rebelled, many times. Some looked like they would last. In the end you’d return to his dingy office for your next mission because as much as you despised him for the things he had done to you, the guilt over the things he had done for you overshone. Having him as your enemy would be worse than having his convoluted sense of love shoved down your throat until you were forced to accept him.

And that’s what it had been like until now.

You try and take in as much as you can of the house you’re standing in right now. What you used to find restrictive and a crude form of punishment, you found calming. The mundane nature of everyday life was charming.

It wasn’t a vacation, you reminded yourself. But the same feeling of emptiness returned every time you thought of your next move.

You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to go back to what you once thought was a home.

You’d eat a thousand dry peanut butter sandwiches over and over again for the rest of your life before even considering going back. You didn’t care for the lack of twenty-first century technology.

You were feeling things you had shoved away years ago because it wasn’t a life meant for you. Now that you were forced to live it and see what it could be like not living in a fight-or-flight mode every second, you can’t see how you ever survived this long.

But still, you had told Ransone that you were returning, and it was a promise he would expect you to uphold.

You tried to remember as much as you can of your time here. The way the sunlight feels against your skin in the morning, the sugariness of the jelly that was basically finished, the worn out tactical clothing from the wardrobe, the leather of the couch clinging to your skin as you rewatch the same three movies time and time again.

You tried to remember the first time you were introduced to the target board, and the range you and Sam had crafted together. The path to the specific tree and back on your runs and the grass that had wilted along it from contant treading.

You sat on the porch stairs for hours, leaning against the pillar for support. The first house you lived in was too loud, the second was too quiet. But this; this was just right.

Sam joined you eventually in the silence. You were grateful for the company.

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, looking like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you. “In case Ransone sees me and decides to…”

He gestured lewdly, sighing when you peer at him in confusion, “...kill me, you need to continue-”

“Stop talking,” you interrupted him quietly. You don’t even want to think about that possibility.

“It can happen. I hope it doesn’t, because it’s a waste of a perfectly good face,” he continues but you just shake your head, trying to drown him out. “Then promise me you’ll do your best to get out. This life isn’t for us, Y/N.”

“I’m not going to let you die,” you muttered. “Not this time.”

“I’m not saying I will, honey,” he continues in a hushed tone, not disturbing the silence built around you, “But it’d make me happy knowin’ that at least one of us gets a shot to live another life. And I know you make good on your promises.”

You were so tired. Of everything. Knowing that you’d be dragged back into it only made the pain sharpen.

“Scout’s honour,” you vowed. He let out a smile at the memory of the last time he used it, lifting his arm to put over your shoulder as you scoot in closer to him.

You sit like that for who knows how long. The night fell hours ago but you don’t want to let go.

“It’s gettin’ pretty late,” he commented.

“I don’t want to go.”

“You’re gonna need some energy for tomorrow.” He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it.

“It’s your turn at the bed tonight,” you evade it.

“You can have it,” he debated softly. If it was your last day there, then he’d do anything to make it the best one.

You’re stuck by an idea but you weren’t sure how he’d react. It wouldn’t be a big deal on the surface but you hadn’t ever done it before.

“Would you maybe-” you trail off.

“We can share,” he finished your thought, pulling you a little closer. You needed comfort. He knew that.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He only pressed a kiss to your temple, letting you sit out for as long as you needed.

Calm.

The woods provided excellent coverage while also giving him a clear sight of the house. The two of you sat on the porch together, speaking quietly to each other, out of earshot.

It didn’t matter what you were saying now. He had already heard what he needed to hear.

“Get ready,” the agent said hushedly into the intercom, “they’re leaving tomorrow.”

Next part

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shiftyskip · 4 years

Text

Joseph “Joe” David Liebgott

The Real Joseph Liebgott:

Joseph David Liebgott was born in Lansing, Michigan in May 17, 1915 to Joseph (Josef) Liebgott Sr and Mary. Joseph Liebgott Sr was of German descent, but he was born in Beresztocz, Hungary. Joe’s mother was Yugoslavian, but was reported as born in either Yugoslavia or Hungary I am not sure which one because records show both. On his father’s side his grandparents were Yugoslavian as well. On his mother’s sider, they seem to be from Hungary. His mother immigrated in 1909, Lieb’s father immigrated in 1912.

Below is a picture believed to be his parents.

He was the oldest of his siblings. He has four sisters: Mary, Elizabeth, Anna, and Barbara, and one brother, Stephen/Steffen . Both of his parents spoke German, which would later help him during the war. His father worked in the auto industry before they moved.

His family soon moved to California around 1927 and his dad became a barber. He was the oldest of his siblings, one brother and four sisters. He was extremely protective of his younger sisters

Liebgott and his siblings attended Catholic schools. This is where learned how to box and played soccer.

After high school, Liebgott drove a taxi around San Francisco. This career was temporary and he soon attended barber college.

He was also previously married before the war. He was married in July 31, 1933 to a woman named Frances. They had one child, David Albert together on February 27, 1934. But the couple soon divorced within a year, and he was living with his family again by 1940, where he was working on a forestry project. Meanwhile his ex-wife and son moved into her family. Here is Joe and Frances:

He eventually became a barber and this was his career when he enlisted at the age of 26. Liebgott chose the paratroopers to be able to make more money to be able to put a down payment on his parents’ house.

Included is a photo of Joe and his mother

He has a Jewish service card, registered under his mother’s name. But his family denied he was Jewish, stating he was a German Roman Catholic. I’ll attach it below (filtered for safety).

In his draft card he is listed as 5 feet and 5 inches tall and was 109 pounds. He had blue-grey eyes and brown hair.

Malarkey remembers meeting Liebgott on his way to Toccoa where they became part of the original Toccoa men. Liebgott was trained under the harsh command of Herbert Sobel.

Liebgott didn’t talk much about the war, so there will be little but other’s words to put here. This is a photo from 1945 in France.

Right before the jump out of the airplane, he put his barber skills to use and gave a few of the men Mohawks.

He would jump out of the airplanes with the rest of the men on June 6, 1944. He received the bronze star for his bravery at Brecourt Manor, where he worked with Winters and several other men, Compton, Guarenere, Wynn, Lipton, Toye, Malarkey, and Ranney to destroy a German Battery firing on Utah Beach on the day of the D-Day Invasion.

He cut off the finger of a German that he had bayoneted and took the man’s ring near Carentan. At Carentan, Ed Tipper was seriously wounded after clearing out a house with Liebgott. Liebgott grabbed Tipper, yelled for a medic, and told Tipper that he’d be okay. Welsh and Lieb dragged Tipper into the street until Welsh could get him back to the aid station.

After Brecourt, Compton recalls a painful memory with Liebgott in his book, Call of Duty, Compton and Liebgott were patrolling along hedges at dusk. Across the way, in another set of hedges were two men. Both were dressed in German ponchos, one was holding a German gun. Assuming that these men were in fact German, he and Liebgott shot the men. Come to find out, when they checked their dog tags, they were not Germans. They were Americans. They had just killed fellow soldiers in friendly fire.

October 5, 1944. Winters sent a few Youmen out on patrol to take an outpost near a windmill. Liebgott and a few other men (James Alley among them) went with Sgt. Youmen. They sent one man ahead, to look out over the dike. The man spotted German machine guns. German voices approached the remaining boys. Lieb called out for the Youman, as we was trailing behind, only to have grenades thrown at him and the other men. Liebgott got minor wounds while James Alley received 32 shrapnel wounds in his left side, stretching from his face down. They’d run into a company of SS.

Liebgott was known for being rough with prisoners, the fighting that followed the injuries wit the SS company was a prime example of this. After Winters led his patrol to attack these Germans, in which during the fighting they lost William Dukeman, 7 Germans surrendered. The most famous story of Liebgott is as follows, in Dick Winter’s words.

As Winters explains in his book, “Tech/5 Joseph D. Liebgott had been slightly wounded in the arm, but he was ambulatory so I assigned him the mission of escorting seven German prisoners to the rear. Liebgott had earned the reputation of being one of Easy’s best combat soldiers, but we had all heard stories that he was very rough on prisoners. Liebgott was one of Easy Company’s “killers,” so I deemed it appropriate to take a bit of caution. When he heard me say, “Take the prisoners back to the battalion command post,” he replied. “Oh, boy! I’ll take care of them.” In his exuberance, Liebgott stood up and paced back and forth and he was obviously very nervous and concerned. I stopped him in his tracks. “There are seven prisoners and I want seven prisoners turned over to battalion.” Liebgott was highly incensed and started to throw a tantrum.Somewhat unsure of how he would react, I then dropped my M-1 to my hip, threw off my safety, and said, Liebgott, drop all your ammunition and empty your rifle.” There was much grumbling and swearing, but he did as I had ordered. “Now,” I said, “you can put one round in your rifle. If you drop a prisoner, the rest will jump you.””

Liebgott got all 7 prisoners back.

Joe would recover in a hospital in England with Webster, but he was back before Bastogne. Here is the record for that:

Name:Joseph D Liebgott Race:White, includes Mexican (White) Rank:Enlisted Man Admission Age:29 Birth Date:abt 1915 Admission Date:Oct 1944 Discharge Date:Nov 1944 Military Branch:Infantry, Parachute Troops or Units Diagnosis:FirstLocation: Ulna, generally; CausativeAgent: Artillery Shell, Fragments, Afoot or unspecified Type of Injury:Casualty, battle Injured in Line of Duty:In line of duty Type of Discharge:Duty Length of service:2 Year(s), 6 Month(s)

In Bastogne, Winters made him a runner to get away from the tension and constant stress of fighting. One story of his service was outside of Foy is the battle of Noville, he and Earl Hale ducked into a barn and took 6 SS officers prisoner. Outside the barn, a shell exploded. One of the SS officers took this as an opportunity and jumped Hale. He slit Hale’s throat. Liebgott instantly shot and killed the officer. He then killed the others. Hale survived miracuously.

At some point, before the end of the war, Liebgott became first platoon’s interpreter-radioman. This was because he could speak some German. But Webster claimed in his book that the German’s didn’t understand his Yiddish.

He was with Webster when they took Hitler’s Nest. They spent their time drinking Hitler’s alcohol together with a few other men. He was living with Headquarters Company while there.

Of course, the war came to an end and everyone who wanted to was discharged.

Over the course of the war, Lieb was injured 3 times and won 3 purple hearts. He refused one because the wound was “just a scratch”. He would receive partial disability for his wounds.

When he returned home, he disappeared for two years. Eventually he was found living in Yuma, California. He didn’t come to reunions, even when offered multiple times. His father simply told the vets “not to mess with him”.

After the war, Liebgott was a barber for a short time. He married again to a woman named Peggy in 1949. They had eight kids together. Making Lieb’s total children come to nine, although he was mostly involved with the last eight. They lived on a barber’s salary, not leaving much room for fun activities but everyone had their basic needs met. He often only had one day a week off and would take his kids to a Long Beach pike, where they would visit an amusement park.

Liebgott liked to bet on the ponies at the racetrack. Every other sunday, him and his boss would take the boss’ airplane down to Mexico.

He is believed to have never contacted anyone from his days in Easy Company. He just wanted to get away from the war.

The Liebgotts divorced in April of 1969. She remarried, but he never did. He was described as really quiet by his granddaughter.

She states, in Marcus Brotherton’s book Company of Heroes (pages 120-121) “His hands looked like a man who worked with his hands, sunspots all over. He absolutely loved his grandkids. he had false teeth that he flipped out of his mouth and smiled, threatening to kiss us with his gums. He was a tickler. He never held babies over his shoulder...because he wanted them to see everything....He didn’t have a lot of money - I’m pretty sure all he had was his veteran’s benefits...He made all of the bikes for the grandkids by scouring thrift stores for dilapidated bikes. He stripped the bikes down to their frame, fixed and assembled them as good as new. He let each grandchild pick the color of new paint for his or her bike....I always knew the specific foods we were going to eat at his house. He had bite-sized candy bars and store brand soda-pop. There was no drinking water in his house. He always lived in rental houses...”

He was very neat, and keep his house and appearance orderly. However, he was always working in the garage, so the house had black smudges from the dirt on his hands.

However, Liebgott was not perfect. While he hated the Nazis, he was also seen as a bigot, maybe even harsher. Rhonda explained that he threw the n word around like it wasn’t a big deal. He blamed the wrong goings of the world on different ethnic groups. Rhonda started seeing a guy from El Salvador, he asked if her partner “even spoke English?”

As he grew older, Lieb got sicker. He eventually lost the use of one of his legs from a hernia. He was confined to a chair and hated any new technology. He was stuck in a wheelchair, angry when he would hit a cabinet.

Lieb did not talk about his military career until towards his end. He would spend time with his son Jim, watching tv talking about the war during a war movie. He would talk about the war when he was mad, possibly angry at himself for doing a lot of killing and other things that people his age shouldn’t have to do.

In 1992, Liebgott developed a tumor in his neck, near his windpipe that would cause a lot of pain. Jim took him to the hospital on Father’s Day. Shortly later, on June 28, 1992 Liebgott died. He was against a funeral and just wanted to be cremated, so his family did as he wished. They still have his ashes and letters and the Toccoa book.

#Real Life Band of Brothers #real band of brothers #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom

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early2000smovieimagines · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Rafe McCawley

(My gif) (Requested by @minigranger )

(I’m so sorry this took so long! I’m trying really hard to write more often on all my blogs!)

- You and your family lived in the same town as Rafe so even though you didn’t directly meet him until you were older, you still saw him around a lot growing up.

- For as long as he could remember, he had always had a massive crush on you. No, not just a crush, this boy was in love with you ever since he first saw you at the general store when you were kids.

- Anytime he saw you, he’d stop and stare like an angel just walked past him. And to him you were an angel, one he needed to have for himself. If only he had the guts to talk to you.

- He did in fact gain the courage to ask you out on a date but only after he got older and grew out of his awkward gangly teenage phase.

- You were genuinely surprised when he approached you for the first time, introducing himself with such urgency and determination that you couldn’t help but feel as though you were the most important thing in the world. He really powered through his confession like his life depended on it which was honestly pretty adorable to you.

“Ma’am? My name is Rafe McCawley and please excuse me, but I just need to get this off of my chest. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, inside and out, and you would make me the happiest man on Earth if you were to say you’d join me on a date.”

- Who could say no to that?

- The smile you gave him once he was finished made his knees weak. He almost couldn’t believe his ears once you agreed, it was like all his dreams had come true. He quickly told you he’d pick you up at noon the next day before clumsily making his exit, running home to tell Danny everything that had happened.

- He was so excited for your date that he literally arrived at your house thirty minutes early and waited outside, checking his watch until he deemed it appropriate to ring your doorbell. He was nearly speechless when you answered, handing you a bouquet of flowers before finally forcing out a “god, you are so beautiful”.

- He took you to a gorgeous lake where the two of you sat in the shade of a big willow tree and had a pretty little picnic. He was adorably clumsy throughout your whole date which only made you fall for him even more. He confessed that he’d liked you for a long time now and you confessed the same which caught him completely off guard.

- The thing about Rafe is that deep down, he’s a shy loser. He can’t flirt for the life of him but god can he make a girl swoon without even trying. He wins your love with earnest compliments and sweet nothings that come straight from his heart.

- You have your first kiss that same day, bathed in the setting sun and surrounded by the smell of warm dry air and flowers. It’s deliciously soft and beautifully slow, making your heart race and your mind stop.

- You’ve been two fools in love ever since and you’ve got no intention of stopping anytime soon.

- He wants everyone to know that you’re together so expect a lot of pda. Handholding, soft kisses, hugs, his arm wrapped around you, etc. It’s all very innocent but it sends a message and makes you both happy.

- You catch him watching you a lot, often with this little smile on his face that tells you exactly what he’s thinking. How did I get so lucky.

- Passionate kisses.

- Spontaneous and adventurous dates and decisions. Most of them get ruined somehow but neither of you mind, the temporary thrill is amazing and the get-away is always amusing.

- Even though you don’t come from much, he tries his best to make you feel like the classiest woman alive. Champagne, roses, diamonds, whatever he can get his hands on.

- Folded cranes and other sentimental gifts. Both of you smile every time you see them.

- He likes pressing kisses all over your face before he finally captures your lips in his. He adores the little giggles you make whenever he does it.

- He wraps both his arms around you in a bear hug when the two of you cuddle. He can hardly sleep without holding you close, almost as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear in the night

- He’s pretty clumsy so you’ll have to take care of your fair share of cuts and bruises.

- Hearing about all of his adventures with Danny. Some of them are so outrageous that you can’t believe they’re real no matter how much he laughingly assures you they are.

- He’s going to give you a complex with how much he compliments you. It’s kind of funny though because as much as he compliments you, he often gets pretty flustered when you do the same.

- He uses a lot of pet names on you but you think you like it best when he calls you by your name. There’s just something so nice about the way he says it.

- Sitting on his lap and snuggling close.

- Soft caresses, he can never seem to keep his hands off of you.

- Pulling his hat off his head so that you can kiss him. When you pull away, he likes to teasingly place it on yours, calling you captain and asking what you feel like doing.

- There’s a lot of teasing in your relationship but it’s the “so sweet it’ll rot your teeth” kind of teasing.

- Getting carried around bridal style.

- Taking long walks together. He likes having a chance to get away from everybody and just spend some quality time with you.

- He’s taken you on a plane ride at least once, he’s either very glad that you share his love for flying or finds it cutely amusing when you get scared.

- Even though he’s fond of thrills, he does enjoy just spending a quiet night in with you.

- Whenever he goes to order food or drinks for the two of you, he’ll hand you some money to go spend on the jukebox while you wait for him. He thinks it’s cute when you skip off all excited to pick a song.

- Going to the cinema together.

- Photo booth pictures.

- Going dancing.

- Sneaky butt touches, he tries his best to act innocent but you know he’s a liar.

- Tight hugs, he often lifts you up and spins you around whenever you wrap your arms around him.

- He always tries his best to act like he isn’t sick or hurt but he rarely manages to do so convincingly. A lot of the time he can’t help but give up, apologize and admit that yes, he feels about ready to die. He want’s you to think he’s all tough and macho but he doesn’t have quite the pain tolerance or acting skills for it.

- He likes for everything to be special when he’s with you, he loves making memories together and having things to look forward to the next time he sees you.

- It always warms his heart to hear you talk about your future together or how much your parents like him. He loves knowing that you’re planing to stay with him and that he’s already a part of your family.

- At the start of your relationship, he tried desperately to hide his disability from you, thinking that, for some ungodly reason, you’d stop loving him and think that he was stupid. You reassure him that that would never happen and help him whenever he needs you to.

- Sometimes he just likes having you read different books to him or recount the plots of books that you’ve read. He loves your voice and being able to experience stories without the difficulty of trying to read them.

- He’s insecure but in a secretive, no one would know, type of way. Anyone who doesn’t know him well would never be able to tell but you can see through the cracks and know exactly what he’s thinking most of the time.

- He’s a pretty jealous guy, he takes people flirting with or being interested in you very personally and has definitely gotten into fights over you. He just cares about you too much to let someone “disrespect your relationship” like that.

- He might be willing to let you go if you don’t love him anymore but god will it be hard for him. He firmly believes a part of him will always love you no matter what happens between the two of you.

- You rarely ever fight, there’s hardly ever a reason to, your relationship is pretty much perfect. But on that rare occasion that you do, you’ll both just calmly get everything off of your chest before you resolve whatever needs to be resolved.

- He doesn’t lose his temper with you very often. The very thought makes him sick so if he feels he’s like he’s going to snap, he’ll take a few moments to calm down on his own before attempting to fix things with you. It doesn’t take long for everything to be sorted out and for you to go back to your happy, in love selves.

- He always tries his best to be there for you, offering you reassurance and a shoulder to cry on whenever you need.

- He often treats you very gently even though he knows you won’t break. It’s just been drilled in his head that you treat a woman with care because they’re “gentle creatures”.

- He’s very protective of you, he always makes sure you know that he’d never let anything happen to you.

- He does everything he can to see you as much as possible especially after he gets accepted into the army.

- Sending each other letters when he goes away.

- He keeps a picture of you on him at all times. He’s probably kissed it a few times.

- He also has a necklace of yours that you gave to him when he first went away. It helps to keep him from missing you too much. Whenever he see’s it shining in his reflection he can’t help but feel better yet melancholy at the same time.

- No matter how many times he has to do it, saying goodbye never gets any easier. He hates having to leave you, not being able to see you for such long lengths of time is torture.

- He always promises to come back as soon as possible and you hold him to that promise, saying you’ll drag him back yourself if you have to.

- Having your entire world shatter around you when you receive the news of his death. You bawl your eyes out for weeks, not being able to believe that it’s true.

- Thinking you’ve died and went to heaven when he arrives at your door safe and sound. All you can do is fall into his arms and refuse to let go. Nothing will ever top the feeling of getting him back.

- Constant “I love you’s” not a day goes by when he doesn’t say it to you, at least when you’re together in person. He can’t help but swoon every time you tell him the same, especially when you say it out of nowhere,

- He dreams of settling down with you, starting a family and living on a cozy little farm together. A future with fields of green, laughter and love. What more could a man ask for?

#rafe imagine #rafe headcanons #rafe headcanon #rafe mccawley imagine #rafe mccawley headcanons #rafe mccawley headcanon #pearl harbor 2001 #rafe mccawley pearl harbor #pearl harbor imagine #pearl harbor headcanons #pearl harbor headcanon #early 2000s

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nerv0usm3chanic · 3 years

Text

CORRUPTION

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

((NOTE - This is an introduction to a new PERMANENT AU feature exclusive to nerv0usm3chanic. Please see further, generalized information regarding this AU here: X

Be advised that each of these chapters are VERY LONG. The full content will be tucked under a read more after a brief introduction segment.

DO NOT REBLOG.))

Vivi frowned as she spotted Arthur perusing the shelves of Tome Tomb. He wasn’t often in here except when meeting up with Vivi for hanging out later...which, now that she thought about it, hadn’t happened in quite some time. The blue-haired woman made a mental note to invite Arthur and Lewis over for one of their terrible movie nights before heading over to talk to the blond.

“Hey Artie!” The blond jumped at her sudden greeting, his hand over his now racing heart as it registered who it was that spoke to him. “Oh jeeze! I’m sorry for spooking you, Arthur.” She couldn’t help but let a small giggle.

“N-no worries, I’m fine.” Arthur assured her, taking a deep breath, “I um...I was just looking up some things here.” He gestured to the shelf, a series of books on it and many of which hopefully containing his desired topic. Vivi peered over, tilting her head and quirking an eyebrow.

“These are all about ghosts and magic...ooh! Did you hear a rumor about something spooky?” She was getting excited now, “Are you researching for a case, Artie?” Her eyes sparked with her excitement. With a nervous swallow, Arthur nodded slightly, scratching at the back of his head.

“Uh, y-yeah, you caught me.” He coughed, “I heard some rumors of ghosts causing some magical energy fluxes and-”

“Ooh! So exciting! I’ll have to get with you on this later after work!” Vivi clasped her hands around his and practically bounced in place. Just as suddenly, she bounded away to continue her workday and Arthur sighed. Thankfully, he got away without further questions, but he hated the idea of having to explain exactly why he was researching this topic. He’d have to take a rain check if she were to invite him anywhere.

“Is this everything?” The shopkeeper asked in a calm, neutral drawl. Arthur nodded silently, drumming his fingers - both the metallic and flesh and bone - on the counter as Duet collected the first of the three books. A blightly-colored eyebrow quirks and the mysterious person looked at Arthur meaningfully. “Are you sure?”

“U-uhm...I think so?” Arthur quailed, glancing sideways as he saw Vivi pass by with a cart of books to be out away. With worrying amber eyes, Arthur begged Duet to stay quiet about his purchases. They too glanced at Vivi before setting the book down with a soft sigh and giving Arthur a serious look.

“Something is off about you, Kingsmen. And I don’t like it.” They commented in a hushed tone, sure to keep their conversation between Arthur and them alone. Their implication was deeply ominous and Arthur shrank at the connotations. Duet relaxed slightly, easing their dark tone and casually checking out the books Arthur had selected as if nothing had been said. After a moment, Duet looked to the blond again.

“You are...researching...yes?” They offered a much more sensitive tone, prompting Arthur to nod and sigh in some relief. “Perhaps there is someone...I can recommend to you.” And with another subtle gesture, Arthur saw a flash of gold from Duet’s sleeve. He blinked as the shopkeeper slipped the thing in between random pages in one of the larger books.

“Was that a...a card?” Arthur asked as Duet finished ringing up the books. They didn’t answer, just placed the books into a plastic bag and looked to Arthur again.

“That will be $43.23.” Duet’s flat expression indicated they had no interest in continuing. Them making a directed glance over Arthur’s shoulder was enough to say why: Vivi was nearby. Arthur nodded, pulling out his wallet and retrieving the necessary funds.

“Thank you.” Arthur nodded, passing a $50 bill and taking his bag of books. He had no need for the small amount of change, especially if Duet’s lead pointed him in the right direction.

“This is it?” Arthur asked himself later that evening, looking at the gilded card and with the large book in his lap. There wasn’t anything even written on the card, just a golden embossed moon and beneath it, the words ‘qui petit auxilium’. Arthur didn’t know what it meant and he frowned angrily as he flung the card off to the side. He pouted further when the card spun gracefully and made a smooth landing on his nightstand. “How am I supposed to get help with this stupid spirit if I can’t get a straight answer?”

‘I can hear you, boy.’ The spirit snarled in his head.

“I know you can.” Arthur growled back, turning to the book for help and turning pages to look at the index. The blond proceeded to read from a selected section, investigating all he could from what little there actually was on ghosts and their affects on people.

Pages upon pages on skeptical theory, a chapter on the effects of those under possession - or assumed so - and a handful of paragraphs on magical side effects. None of which described lightning or electricity. There was a small section on hearing the voice of the spirit that plagued, though it was played down shortly after with most victims actually being mentally-ill. Arthur grew frustrated. Hearing that voice constantly tease and taunt him, a spirit that made electricity fly from his hands at the most inconvenient times, and the constant strain and worry...

With an exhausted sigh, Arthur shut the book, using the attached ribbon as a bookmark. He set the book on his nightstand and flopped onto his mattress...before looking to the card once again. Metal fingers reached out, taking the slip of thick paper and turning it carefully. The moon glinted bright in the lamplight as it turned and again the words showed bright.

“Qui petit auxilium...I wonder what that means?” Arthur whispered, weariness beginning to weigh on his eyelids. ‘I just...I just wish I could find something...someone to help me.’ With that thought, the blond curled onto his side, ignoring the devious hums of the other voice in his skull.

Despite his doubts, Arthur continued his research, both through the books he purchased and online. He even created a new throwaway Reddit account to search for advice and ideas on how to deal with things. Most if it was hooey and there were a lot of folks going to him to sell their ‘holistic’ home remedies for his ‘condition’. With a sigh, Arthur closed his laptop and rubbed at his tired eyes, bags growing darker each day.

He was the definition of exhausted. By this point it had been more than a year since his possession and he still hadn’t gotten used to the meddling voice in his head or the electrical surges that liked to flow around his metal arm. Arthur scowled at the appendage.

“You were supposed to help me feel normal again.” The mechanic growled at the inanimate arm as it laid peacefully beside his computer.

‘Normal was never an option after you and your friends stepped into my trap.’ The blond ground his teeth a moment before aggressively pushing back from his desk. He needed a walk. Arthur said as much when Lucan asked where he was going.

“Awrigh’ lad...bu’ Ah got dinner cookin’ righ’ now. If ye want it warm an’ fresh, be back in a half hour, okay?” Lucan asked. Arthur gave a tired grunt of ascent and loudly closed the apartment door behind him. The dark-haired Kingsmen looked to his father in concern. Arthur was rarely this moody, even in his teenage rebellious phase and it worried his family.

There was a flash of gold in the bright moonlight as Arhur played with the strange card over and around his fingers. The nights were chill and even walks at 6:30 pm were lit by streetlamps and moonbeams. Arthur liked going for walks at night. Fewer people to run into, to talk to about how poorly and pale he was getting, to look at his arm and feel sorry for him. Amber eyes narrowed at the thought.

He’d seen the pitying looks all three of his friends gave him...and he understood why, but it hurt to see them think anything poorly of him because of his still-new disability. He wanted to be normal again. He wanted to have never gone into that cave. He wanted Vivi and Lewis to have listened to him and his bad feelings. He wanted to...to...he sighed in defeat, looking to the card Duet had given him as he walked past a series of old houses in the nicer neighborhood on the outskirts of Tempo.

Research led to only dead ends...to all but one question he had.

“Qui petit auxilium...help to those who ask for it.” A nice sentiment...but ultimately useless if he didn’t know who to ask for help. His only clue was the golden moon that seemed to glow full under the light of the pale white moon above his head. Funny...they both seemed to match at this phase. Arthur hummed idly as he thought about it and looked up.

“A shooting star...” He murmured, coming to a stop in front of another old pseudo-Victorian-style house, the walls covered in ivy and all of the windows dark with some boarded up and others curtained off. He watched the meteorite sail in a surprisingly long trail across the sky. Before it vanished, he closed his eyes and sighed out softly:

“I wish I could find answers...I need help. Who do I go to?” He opened his eyes to see the meteorite had gone. “...please?” For once...the spirit in his head was silent. Arthur felt its presence, but heard nothing. That in itself was remarkable. On another outlet of breath and a soft nod, Arthur turned his head from the sky and turned to make his way back home...when he heard a loud creaking from his right.

Startled, Arthur whipped his head towards the previously-abandoned house. The door was opened and a bright light poured forth, golden and warm and beckoning. The blond didn’t even notice the soft pulse of magic from the card in his hand as he cautiously made his way through the front gate and approached the front porch. He didn’t even notice that the windows remained dark and empty of all life.

The entity in his mind was suspiciously quiet as he set foot on the creaky wood and carefully approached the door.

“Hello? Hello, is anyone home?” Arthur called out, hopeful to gain the homeowner’s attention as he poked his head inside. “I think your door lock may be...broken...” Words trailed off as Arthur took in the sight before him: a comfortable entryway complete with classically ornate wallpaper and decorations given gold trim to compliment their warm tones. He stepped further inside, fascinated to explore more.

Arthur came across a sitting room with the back of a large wooden chair facing him, a fire dancing merrily in its hearth. He sucked in a cautious breath when he noticed a dark-skinned elbow resting on one of the arms and a draping golden cloth pooling at the front of the chair.

“A-ah um...ex-excuse me for intruding...” Arthur started, pausing to swallow nervously. “I-I um...I actually was walking by and your d-door seemed to creak open on it’s own. I’m...I’m not sure, but I think your lock may be broken. I just wanted to let you know, just so you’re not surprised...by intruders...like me.” Oh, he could have done this so much better. Waiting at the front door and knocking would have been a much nicer way to alert the homeowner of this issue.

“I appreciate your concern, but you needn’t worry. I will be just fine.” There was a flutter of nerves in Arthur at the low, feminine tone. Internally, he was both intrigued and frightened by the energy he could feel exuding from around the woman in the chair. Then suddenly he was more frightened when - in the corner of his periphery - he saw the door lazily creak shut and click securely in place.

“Come around so I may see you.” A soft request that rang as a command through Arthur’s rattled skull as she raised one hand to beckon him forward. He nodded despite the fact that she couldn’t see it and carefully made his way around the armchair before finally seeing the commanding woman who owned this obviously magical home.

She was quite the opposite of who he expected to be living in a decrepit-looking house. Shimmering golden locks were tied back neatly, held back by a pearly comb while the rest spilled gracefully around and over her mostly bare shoulders. Arthur blinked at the shimmery golden dress she wore, something he estimated to be worth five or more months of his earnings at Kingsmen Mechanics and she wore it like a second skin with how confident and relaxed she was in her seat. His eyes briefly assessed her arms - obviously strong with muscle, but still lithe and feminine with their bearer’s grace - before he met her gaze.

Arthur swallowed at the bright glow that emanated from her eyes. A firm gaze that studied him with obvious wary scrutiny and a touch of irritation that carried to the slight downturn of the corner of her dark and light contrasting lips...Arthur averted his eyes to her shoulder as the homeowner assessed the mechanic.

“You asked for help...for a problem you cannot resolve by typical means.” A statement, not a question, but Arthur nodded anyway. There was a beat and then the woman let out a soft breath, so soft that Arthur was sure a mouse couldn’t have been quieter. “You wouldn’t be inside this building if you weren’t in genuine need. Take a seat and tell me what plagues you.” Arthur looked to the matching armchair beside hers as she gestured her other hand towards it.

“Th-thank you...” Arthur says gently, nodding to the woman and taking his seat. Once comfortable, Arthur begins to spin his tale.

That was the night he met Luna, the Witch of Secrets...

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

#corruption au

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ourimpavidheroine · 4 years

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I got two different Asks about my headcanons for Wu and one of them was from like a week and a half ago, sorry about that, Anon! It’s been A Week. I’ll just answer this way, it’s easier than trying to cobble together two separate asks.

In any case, yes, I can give a sort of quick and dirty reference to Wu as I’ve written him in my fanfic. I don’t generally like doing this kind of thing but I get that people don’t want to dive in without at least a little bit of a clue as to how I see him. But I want to note that my first fic, Please Excuse My Penmanship, was written right after the show’s final episode in December of 2014 (I sat on it for two months before publishing it) and because of that it is not comic-compliant nor does it reference any sort of Word of God things that Bryke said after the show ended/on the DVD commentary.

I’ve been writing this utter behemoth of collected fics for over five years now and have done so.much.research. (Some of the history from Imperial China, for example, was so juicy that I wholeheartedly stole it and worked it into my fic.) My fic has fluff, it has angst, it has found family, it has slowly revealed backstory, it has politics, queer characters, neurodiverse characters, disabled characters, oh and a good half of it is focused on the Beifong family, so there’s them, too.

What my fic isn’t, however, is a crackship. I take it seriously; probably too seriously for someone who just wants a quick fun read on their phone between classes. So that’s good to know before diving in.

Also, much of it is written in first person via Wu’s diaries. Some of you will probably just scroll right past this entire post now because of that but I’ll say this much: I’ve gotten, over the years, a great deal of comments from people telling me they normally loathe first person but loved Wu’s. So. It’s probably worth a try. In my not so humble author’s opinion.

With all that said - here he is!

Wu was born in the autumn of 156 (making him 4 years younger than Mako). His paternal grandfather was King Kuei’s son by his queen (making him a full-blood younger brother to Wu’s great-aunt). His paternal grandmother was a kitchen maid who was given consort status after her son was born. Both of Wu’s grandparents died before he was born. Wu’s father was the only royal of his generation to make it to adulthood and he was assassinated when Wu was five years old. Wu saw very little of him and has very few memories of him.

Wu’s mother was a very high-ranking nobleman’s daughter whose estate was near Gaoling. She had much older parents and was an only child. (Through her Wu is very distantly related to the Beifongs and also to the Northern Water Tribe’s royal family. The premise being here is that all of the nobility around the world is related if you go far back enough.) She dies two days after Wu is born. She was very, very wealthy (like Bezos level wealthy) and Queen Hou-Ting sees to it that all of that wealth is taken care of in trust for Wu and it is still his even after the fall of Ba Sing Se.

Wu is Hou-Ting’s only direct heir and is raised in the Palace at Ba Sing Se. He has an extremely strict childhood (he never leaves the Upper Ring and only very rarely leaves the palace itself) and while he is extremely well-educated has very little contact with the outside world, much as his great-grandfather Kuei did.

When Hou-Ting is assassinated by the Red Lotus Wu is fifteen; he is rushed out of Ba Sing Se to the safety of Republic City, where he is mostly left on his own and goes to utter and complete pieces. He goes through several bodyguards before he is assigned Mako; by that time he is sixteen, has cut of his traditional queue, only wears modern suits, spends money like water, and watches every single mover/reads every single cheap novel/listens to the radio non-stop - which is where he learns all of that slang. He has zero social skills that do not involve him ruling a nation (which he is terrified to do). His weirdass behavior during Season 4 of TLOK is explained by his not having the first clue as to how real people live and thinking that he can learn by watching movers and reading romance novels. (We all know how that goes for him.)

He is an extremely self-centered person but not a selfish one; he also has a terrific crush on Mako that he has absolutely no idea how to handle due to inexperience.

NOTE: I have not written homophobia into my version of this universe and so there is no coming out angst for any of my characters, canon or OC. There are no coming out stories at all, in fact. Many of my characters (canon and OC) are queer and I am very matter of fact about it; gay marriage is legal, polyamory is legal (although not necessarily practiced everywhere), trans people openly exist and it is simply par for the course.

By the time Wu leaves for Ba Sing Se to dismantle the monarchy he is just about to turn nineteen; it will take him two years to put provincial governments in place with an entire cadre of advisors and abdicate. He dislikes Ba Sing Se and recognizes that if he stays he will be under constant pressure to rule in one form or another, so he relocates to Republic City for good. (Mako does have something to do with where he relocates, but Wu wasn’t planning on sticking around regardless.) Many, many people are unhappy with him dismantling the monarchy and there’s a lot of political stuff in my fic regarding the Royalists.

Wu and Mako do get married. Eventually they will have four children together and Wu will have another spouse. (This is common among nobility in the former Earth Kingdom and is expected; it is not illegal in Republic City but isn’t the norm among the natives.) He buys Toph Beifong’s old mansion from Lin (her parents built it for Toph when she was pregnant with Lin but it has been sitting empty since Toph left Republic City) and remodels it and that’s where they live.

In my fic Wu has very curly hair that he pomades within an inch of its life (I’ve been loving all the fanart going around now where his hair curls!!) and he whines about it a lot. He is a very finicky eater and never really gets over bossing people around. He does a lot of charity work and is on all of The Best Committees. He’s an extrovert who loves parties and hosts a lot of them. He has ADHD and suffers from PTSD and writes and publishes very popular romance novels under a penname for several years before his family finds out about it. He will make an effort to cut the slang out of his speech and will eventually go back to sounding like a very well educated royal. He gets real pissy if people refer to him as “your Majesty” instead of “Your Highness” since he abdicated. He has zero idea how money works (and never will) but is known to bribe the fuck out of people to get what he wants (something that will give his husband gray hair). He does not hold himself accountable to anyone or anything and that will never really change for him. He mostly gets away with it because he does have a lot of charm for a dude who believes that he’s above everyone else.

He is a fairly unreliable narrator, bless his skinny little ass.

His best friend is Huan Beifong, and you’ll just have to read the fic to find out about that.

My pissy Wu can best be summed up by this gif of Prince:

#prince wu #since both of you anons asked so nicely #I don't know if you'll want to read the fic or not #after this #but here it is anyhow #long post

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tsauergrass · 4 years

Note

Hi! I noticed your comment on gnarfs fic recs and was wondering what are you favourite fics and which you would recommend :)

oH it would not be an exaggeration to say I’ve been waiting for this ask since practically the day I created my blog lol (I’m so excited!!)

I do have a fic rec list sitting in my drafts (tagged forever ago by @rockmarina and still haven’t found the time to complete 😭) but oh dear here we go! In no particular order:

Running on Air by eleventy7

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

This fic is so beautiful it will break your heart without you even knowing it and you will be left aching for days. It will forever be my favorite fic and it is the most beautiful fic I have ever read—it is the one that brought me into Drarry when I didn’t even ship them! The loneliness is so well captured, the scenes so beautifully described, and both the suspense and the emotional storylines are so well crafted. td;lr: please go read this stunningly beautiful fic I promise you won’t be disappointed

The Lip-Lock Jinx by cassisluna

It's a jinx that renders the victim mute, unless he/she serves the purpose of the jinx and kisses the person that they desire. It's just Harry's luck that he's in love with Draco. HPDM, one-shot, eighth year.

Already fussed over it once but here we are again! Eighth-year fic, Draco is quieter but still witty, Harry is clumsy in his affections, Ginny is brilliant. It’s so soft you will place your hand on your chest and sigh, you will smile helplessly because your heart is brimming with softness. A dose of this fic on a bad day and I promise you will feel just the bit better.

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by firethesound

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

Warning: MCD, it is—oh dear it is the angstiest fic I have ever read. It tore my heart out of my chest and it is so, so good. The writing is beautiful, I love the way Draco and Harry’s relationship progressed, I adore their characterization, how they bicker and care. Harry’s road to recovery is rocky and winding but it is,, so genuine. (I also adore the structure of this fic lol, the two timelines are weaved together seamlessly and it just fascinated me!) This fic will leave the most beautiful scar in your heart but really, if you can afford it, it is so worth it.

Grounds for Divorce by tepre

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

This is, like, the slowest slow burn of all slow burns. It’s a bond fic, as you will discover pretty soon into the story—but it proceeds so differently than I ever expected. It is messy, beautiful, winding, Harry and Draco proceed to take the same freakin path two thousand times without ever reaching the destination—but it’s all good, and you see the beauty in the messiness because that is how life is. And when they finally get themselves together it’s just, so sweet you can’t stop smiling and you can feel their happiness, so close to your heart. It’s a slow journey and you have to take it with them if you want to see it bear fruit, and you realize in the end it doesn’t matter how winding the paths are, because you were always going to reach that place. And stay. Like I lie in bed at one a.m. and I think about how Draco and Harry are sleeping together in Grimmauld and I wanna tear up. The prose is beautiful, and messy like the story itself, and I just adore the way everything is described, so authentic, and the way the start of the end is the beginning (no spoilers yes?) Go read it and afterwards sit at the same place for twenty minutes in complete awe and content

The Generation Who Lived by lettersbyelise

In the months leading up to the 10th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy writes a series of articles about war survivors.

So far, he’s managed to interview everyone he wanted.

Everyone...except his old nemesis, his one-time lover, and the elusive war hero who stubbornly refuses to be featured in Draco’s interview series; Harry Potter.

This fic tackles so many different aspects of consent—and weaves them into the story itself so well. There are many controversial topics, and they were explored with honesty: nothing is shunned, nothing is avoided, there are many voices that challenge what you really think. And these are the best kind of fics, really. I especially love the characterization of Luna, because it is so difficult to get her right—but she is, wonderfully candid in her whimsical way, tripping you over in your own thought. I love Draco and Harry’s story as well, the misunderstanding and the miscommunication—the confrontation, a reminder for a lot of us that being upfront and honest is so so important. The way Draco is neither redeemed nor un-redeemed yet trying in his own way is also very dear to me.

Sharing Different Heartbeats and Let Them Wash Off in the Rain by talithan

Before Harry ever saw Draco’s room, before they ever shared a greasy order of chips or long-held secrets, before Draco’s boss ever tried to chat up Harry, they hadn’t even exchanged mobile numbers. To be fair, Draco didn’t have a mobile then.

It’s Harry’s first time in New York City, and he is determined to have a good time. How Draco Malfoy figures into this remains to be seen.

I recently discovered them and just, ahhh. Completely adore them! They are not related, just by the same author. Both are so gentle and it feels as if nothing really important is happening—and nothing is—but the feelings are there all the same, gentle too. It’s like sitting by the window listening to soft rain. The sky is grey, the lights are dim, and you’re not really thinking about anything... just listening to the rain falling...

These are some of my absolute favorites! There are many more, (so many more,) and if you’d like you can check the bookmarked recommendations on my ao3! (It’s a messy, rumpled place but) here are a few of them:

fly like paper, high like planes by harryromper

Harry Potter, Head Coach of the Appleby Arrows, is very content leading a quiet life. He has a doddery old house-elf who makes his breakfast, a team of players who love Quidditch almost as much as he does, and a Kneazle that curls against his damaged leg at the foot of his bed at night. The absolute last thing he needs is a fit, tattooed, and wildly talented Draco Malfoy back from living his life on the margins. Soon he’s dealing with goblins for the first time since the war, traveling to Prague, eating dodgy squid, and maybe, just maybe, accepting that Quidditch, Malfoy, and even Harry himself are still capable of change.

(I love Draco covered in tattoos, Draco with a family in Prague, Harry with disability, Harry and his kneazle, amazing OC’s)

Reigniting Harry Potter (A Task For Draco Malfoy) by QueenofThyme

Harry Potter is depressed and won't leave his house, or his bed if he can help it. Hermione has the bright idea to send Draco Malfoy over, who is surprisingly gentler than Harry realised, and might actually just be able to reignite a spark in Harry...if he stops being an arrogant prat of course.

(It’s a gentle story, I love the ending and the description of Harry’s depression just feels really genuine)

To Hurt and Heal by cassisluna

They say that everybody who gets out of Azkaban comes out a little mad. After the war, Draco Malfoy spends three months in Azkaban. He just wants to go insane in peace, but Harry Potter finds that he, inexplicably, still can't leave Draco alone.

(It’s. Heartbreaking and tender all at once)

Don’t let go by parkkate

When Draco ends up having to take care of Teddy’s new pet, he’s sure the universe is trying to torture him. Little does he know things are about to get so much worse. And of course, it involves one Harry Potter.

(The amount of cuddles is atrocious in the fic, I repeat, atrocious. The depth is also amazing and unexpected)

Take Into the Air (My Quiet Breath) by GuardianMira

Draco is dying of Hanahaki Disease. Serves him right, Harry thinks.

(But this is, like, the perfect Hanahaki disease fic. The perfect blend of angst and tension and relationship development with a heartbreaking, beautiful ending.)

Four Times Harry was Late...and One Time He was Late again by dracogotgame

Title says it all

(FLUFF. LOTS OF THEM. And it’s so clever you want to throw your phone across the room and clutch your heart and AWWWWWW, you’ll know it when you get there)

Talk to Me by Saras_Girl

When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story.

(The setting is similar to The Lip-Lock Jinx, so very sweet!)

Slow Hands by eleventy7

Blood, shadows, and paper hearts. The Shadow hunts students, but Draco Malfoy most of all.

(This is,, beautiful. Gentle. Quiet, like when you wake up early before dawn and no one else is up.)

Everything a Word Can Mean and Constant Flux by rockmarina

In a world where magical people are born with the nickname their soulmate will call them by tattooed on their skin... what does it mean that the word on Harry's chest is the thing he hates to be called the most?

Harry Potter is the one constant in Draco's life, only each time in a very different way.

(These are just. Soft. Fluff. The first one is so poetic I love it so much, the second one gave me so much Feels)

Inferno by jadepresley

If he was ice then she was the fire, and though he loved her he was quite certain they were destined to destroy one another in the end.

(Okay this one is not Drarry but it will BLOW YOUR MIND. Seriously, the writing is so beautiful, the story so vivid, so strong. It will ring in your mind)

There we go! There are so many more fics I would gladly rec only this post is getting quite long. I would also recommend you check out the rest of an authors’ works if the first one you read fascinates you, you won’t be disappointed!

#fic rec #drarry fic rec #this took me QUITE A WHILE #to assemble and agonize over which ones I should include #as proven by the repeating there are many more!!!#and the formatting #I'm so sorry if it's messy #I literally squeaked in delight when I received this ask #thank u lovely anon

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ververa · 5 years

Text

Asylum (3/?)

Part 2

So sorry it took me so long. Hope you like it.

Let me know what you think

Words: 2.478

Warning: mention of aversion theraphy and cold showers treatment

Ellie Staple x patient

After almost a month in the asylum there’s something inside you that breaks. You cannot really say what it is. But what you do know is that something bad is going on inside of you. It feels as if the joy, that used to fill you in those good and happy moments, stopped existing. It isn’t your mind that is suffering any more. It is your soul.

Your mind derails and your heart is in atrophy. You see no good. There is only devil all around you, even in your heart. There are no colours any more. Everything gets darker. The world that you used to know stops existing for you. All the familiar colours steadily vanish, until there is nothing more, but a black hole inside of you. You feel numb, as if you were somewhere outside your life. You’re young and free, but then you can feel none of it.

Your restless and unsettled mind is seeking any semblance of peace. Any way to distract and sedate yourself. Because everything is better than the constant fear and insecurity inside of you.

Ellie tried hard to get to the girl. She wanted to help her so badly. She needed her old Ronnie to come back. Though none of the ways of treatment she knew seemed to work. The psychiatrist couldn’t understand it all. She felt helpless. Why it didn’t work? Why their therapy sessions stopped being effective? What had he done to her precious girl? And why she’s not able to take it all back? There were so many questions and she didn’t know the answers.

Ellie was spending most of her time analysing that particular case. How could she not? Ronnie became someone far more than just a patient. It was neither just a fascination nor an attraction. It was love. The purest and the most real feeling that the psychiatrist had ever had for someone.

She found it where it wasn’t supposed to be – in front of her, with her patient. It might not be right, yet it felt that her heart was in a right place. With Ronnie she has moved further than she thought she could. It was different and felt good. For the first time the psychiatrist let herself lose control. She was ready to fall in deep, cross the line, break all the boundaries. Ronnie had her at “hello”. There were no doubts about it. But she knew they could make it right the moment she kissed the girl, when she pulled her so close that it felt as if they were a one body.

But then Dr Schulz came in their way. If she had know, she would have never let it happen. She would protect Ronnie and the girl wouldn’t have to go through all of it.

However, to Ellie’s dismay, she wasn’t able to turn back time. She was forced to watch how her dearest girl slowly fall apart and there was nothing she could do, no matter how hard she was trying.

The psychiatrist waited a long time, before she finally decided to read the files of Dr Schulz’s patients. She hoped that maybe thanks to that she would be able to figure out what exactly happened and how to fix it. However, she hadn’t expected to find out about such horrible things happening in her hospital.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ronnie Zimmerman

Specimen is anorexic. Was brought here after a suicidal attempt. Is Dr Staple’s patient, but the woman is clearly not qualified enough to work on this case. It’s obvious they have established an unhealthy and unethical relationship. The specimen’s diary is the best proof for that.

All disabled specimens found her to be friendly and helpful. Though, that are only appearances. She is a manipulative creature seeking attention and trying to compensate for a bad relations she had with her family.

Specimen was aggressive during the procedure of searching rooms. There was a need to carry on the safety procedure. She got a double dose of sedative drugs. Was put in a straitjacket for obvious reasons. Seems to be bewildered and shocked.

Implementing the old and proven way of treatment seemed to be the only option in this case.

Specimen is startled and confused for most of the time. My diagnosis: the specimen is mentally unbalanced.

The last phase of treatment seemed to help. The specimen is more likely to agree her beliefs and the way in which she used to act are bad and not acceptable.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Aggressive. Bewildered. Shocked. Startled. Confused. Ellie couldn’t believe what she was reading. She couldn’t believe that all that was referring to her little girl. To the young woman she had known for quite some time. Ronnie had never been aggressive. Neither did she try to hurt anyone.

The psychiatrist put down the file and looked at it. She spent a while on just sitting and starring at the document, until she finally moved. She took a deep breath and torn the document to shreds before throwing it away. She then quickly stood up and left her office – heading to the room, in which they had locked Ronnie.

Staple was even more confused after reading Dr Schulz’s notes. The only thing that was clear for her was that the other doctor must have hurt her patient. She still couldn’t help feeling guilty. If she had stayed that would have never happened. But she hadn’t.

Ellie reached the room and saw a medical staff cleaning up.

“What are you doing?” she asked surprised

“We’re cleaning”

“I don’t remember asking you to do so”

“Dr Schulz told us...”

“Dr Schulz is not working at this hospital any more” she cut the man off “Leave it and go back to the ward”

“Of course”

Ellie waited for them to leave before she began to look over the room. She was trying to find something. Anything that she could have missed before. It took her over 30 minutes. And she found nothing. She was angry with herself and the situation itself. She wanted to scream or cry, but couldn’t. She knew she had to be strong for Ronnie.

The psychiatrist was slowly losing her hope. She was about to leave the room when a rubbish bag drew her attention. For someone else it would be just a garbage obviously, but not for Ellie. Her intuition was telling her something different. And she wasn’t wrong. The doctor opened the bag and found a couple empty bottles of apomorphine.

At first she couldn’t believe, she didn’t want to. But she did understand it’s something that Doctor Schulz would most likely do. And that’s when she realised what had happened. She was aware what the girl must have been through and finally after such a long time everything began to make sense.

Aversion therapy. He used it as a method of “treatment”. Could it be called like that? It was more like torturing patients, that was why professional psychologist weren’t using that method any more. Though the man seemed not to care about ethical code.

Ellie needed a moment. She sat down on the floor still looking at the small bottle she was holding. She was furious. Furious and sad at the same time. She wished she hadn’t let the other doctor just like that left the hospital. She should have strangled him or at least hit him, but she hadn’t.

“Calm down, Ellie. Calm the fuck down” she kept on repeating for a while “You need to take care of her. You need to help her...” she says standing up

______________________________

Ronnie was having troubles with sleep for quite some time. She either couldn’t sleep at all or was haunted by nightmares. She couldn’t take it any more. Every time she closed her eyes she saw that horrible face. She heard that awful laugh and felt the pain. It was as if she was experiencing it all again and again every night. She was done. She wasn’t able to bear it all, so she tried hard not to sleep at all, as the though of it was scaring her. But she didn’t tell Ellie. She couldn’t. She knew very well that the psychiatrist was worried enough without it and she didn’t want to make it all worse.

It was another night. It was quite late and everyone at the ward was asleep. Everyone apart from her. She was doing her best not to let her eyes close, because she knew what that meant. The struggle was hard. She hadn’t sleep since almost 4 days and felt worse and worse with each passing hour, but she was a fighter. She had been fighting against everyone and everything her whole life. Thought fighting with herself was so far the hardest thing to do.

Ronnie was sitting on her bed in the dark. She was weak and tired. Her eyes were so heavy… She didn’t know when, but they just closed and the hell started all over again.

They called it cold showers treatment, but for her it was just another part of the whole process of torture. She was crying and screaming. She was begging and apologising, but nothing worked. It always ended the same. With two male nurses dragging her to the separate bathroom, which Doctor Schulz was using for his therapy.

They were undressing her to the underwear and then strapping to the metal construction, so that she wouldn’t be able to move. Then it was time for Doctor Schulz’s speech. He was always saying how bad their behaviour was. That she would never be accepted and that Ellie didn’t love her. After that they turned on the water. Horribly cold water.

It’s an awful feeling, when first drops hit your warm body. At first you scrabble, but the belts are too strong to escape. You’re trapped and after a few times you know that, but you still keep on struggling until you don’t have any more energy. You’re too weak to move and the water is still falling. You have a weird feeling that it’s getting colder and colder with every minute. The time is dragging so slow that you think it’ll never end. Your body starts to change colour. It turns blue and some parts of your body began to hurt. When you’re about to faint they turn the water off. Nobody says anything, but you feel dizzy and hear some kind of ringing in your ears, even though there’s a

perfect silence in the room. You can’t even cry or move and they leave you like that for some time.

They kept her in the dark. Weak and unable to move. Ronnie’s limps felt frozen. She was trembling, but all that she felt was pain and fear. The combination that was paralysing her body even more.

The thought of death crossed her mind so many times, that she was sure she would be indeed dead by the time Ellie’s back. She was tired. She wanted to rest and didn’t want to go through it all again, but her eyes couldn’t close. The tears were springing into her eyes. She was slowly dying. The doctor was killing each part of her that was left from inside. It felt as if she was dwelling in suffering. She didn’t even know when the tears started to escape her eyes…

______________________________

“Shhh… Ronnie. It’s okay. I’m here. It’s only a nightmare”

The girl opened her eyes and instead of Doctor Schulz she saw Ellie. It was over. It was only another bad dream.

Ronnie looked at the other woman. She still was a bit confused, the tears were still falling down her cheeks, but Ellie was right next to her. She hugged the psychiatrist, hiding her face in Ellie’s hair. It used to be something normal, natural, but at that moment if felt weird. The therapy changed her. She was almost sure that the monster in a white overall killed all the love she had for Ellie and the though of it was even worse than everything that had happened to her.

“Shh. It’s okay” Ellie stroked her hair and embraced her carefully “We’re going to deal with it together. I found a way. I’ll fix it”

“You found a way?” Ronnie pulled away and looked at the woman

“Yes, baby. I did” the psychiatrist smiled and wanted to caress Ronnie’s cheek, but the girl flinched

The girl could see the hurt in Ellie’s brown eyes. She never meant to cause the psychiatrist any suffering. She didn’t want Ellie to cry because of her.

Staple nodded understandingly and placed her hand on the bed instead.

“Do you know what aversion therapy is?” she asked calmly

“N-no…”

“It’s a method of treating habits or types of behaviour that are not wanted, acceptable – by causing the patient to connect them with bad feelings. It’s no longer used by professional doctors, but apparently Schulz didn’t care. That’s what he has done to you. But I can fix it. And I will if you let me…”

“O-okey…”

Ellie smiled even though she could feel the tears springing into her eyes.

“Close your eyes” she asked

“W-why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I- Yes”

“Then just to it”

Ronnie hesitated, but she knew Ellie would never hurt her. If anything she would catch her if she “falls”. And so she closed her eyes.

“Don’t open them until I say so, okay?”

“Okay”

The psychiatrist took a deep breath and slowly leaned in. She gently kissed the girl. Ronnie was taken aback at first. She was confused and almost petrified. All the thing that Doctor Schulz had said suddenly came back and hit her even harder than before. Her mind felt overload. The unexpected interaction scared her. The touch, the intimacy, the kiss… It all scared her, but at the same time it was comforting. It was thanks to Ellie of course. She was the one that made Ronnie’s mind slow down. The feeling of peace flew through the girl’s body and slowly began to fill every fibre of it. Her mind started to calm down. The anxiety subsided and that felt better than anything.

“I love you Ronnie” Ellie said pulling away “You’re enough and you deserve all the love in this world”

Ronnie slowly opened her eyes. She was a bit afraid to do it, because what if all that was only a dream? What if it wasn’t real? Though she opened them and there she was. Doctor Ellie Staple in all her glory. Her beautiful, brown eyes staring hopefully at the girl with nothing else, but love.

It was her. She was the remedy. The queen of peace, who was bringing Ronnie’s mind and soul a kind of relief that nothing and nobody else could.

@crazycatladycaceta

@cakexblankett

@cordwliagoode

@misssmephisto

#dr ellie staple #dr ellie staple x patient #ellie staple x ronnie #asylum #Part 3 #glass movie

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j-j-ehlby-writes · 5 years

Text

Meet Me at the Chalet || bonus.

Eventual pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Jenessee Borosi)

Word count: ~3.4k

Summary (I suck at these): Jenessee goes on a solo vacation after the release of her first novel. She got a little more than she bargained for when she gets snowed in with her biggest celebrity crush.

Warnings: Fluff but what’s new?

A/N: Because I have slight OCD, I decided to write just one more chapter so this series can be an even 10 parts. Now I can put this story to rest at last. Thank you for reading this series. It means more to me than any words could say.

night one. || day one. || day two. || day three. || day four. || day five. || day six. || last day. || one year later. || epilogue. || bonus. ||

three years later…

Light buzzing of the airplane’s engines fill the air as it flies us through the air to an unknown destination. My wonderful man has refused to tell me where we are currently flying to, ever the lover of surprising me.

The last five years have been the hardest but most rewarding of my life. After my relationship with Tom became public, my life changed overnight. Suddenly, everyone wanted to know who I was, where I came from, and everything that was happening in my life. My followers and book sales skyrocketed after the Late Late show which thrilled my publicist to no end. Every media outlet wanted to interview me and do a story of “the woman who snatched one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors.” I had interview after interview having to repeat our love story countless times for everyone who asked. It grew tiring but I was also exhilarated. I finally got the opportunity to boast about how amazing Tom truly was. The fans got a glance at the man behind the mask, so to speak.

Wherever I went, people would follow me and want to take pictures and ask me questions about Tom. At first it was overwhelming. There were a lot of difficult days following. Especially when I read the negative comments and reactions. I knew there would be and I tried to brace myself for the worst possible thing anyone could say about me but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing. Faceless people calling me a gold-digger among other comments on my appearance, saying I’m using Tom for fame and how we made up the story for publicity claiming that since I’m a writer I could “spin anything to make it sell.” It seemed to be never-ending. Every time I tried to focus on the positive, supportive people one of the negatives would pop up and ruin any sense of confidence I had built.

Tom would try and distract me from it as best as he could, but when he wasn’t physically there with me, nothing could shake the depression it would send me into.

After a few months, I had had enough. I disabled the comments on my Instagram posts and turned off all notifications for all social media. I no longer wanted the negativity to take over my life as it had. It was also having an adverse effect on my relationship. That was our first hurdle that we faced together. He didn’t want to tell me what to do, knowing I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself no matter how much he wanted to protect me, but he finally drew the line. He made a statement on his social media, telling the fans he loves so much to stop with the outrageously false comments, to consider my feelings and how their words affect me when they start typing, and that if they weren’t going to be supportive of the woman he is choosing to spend his life with then they are not true fans of his. Following his statement was when I disabled everything. From that moment on, our relationship went back to how it was before we went public.

A pair of lips awoke me from my daydreaming. “How’s our littlest flier?” Tom’s baritone whisper invaded my ears but not disturbing the smallest passenger on the private plane.

I glance down at the sleeping 7 month old with my dark hair and Tom’s curls. “He’s sleeping like a champ as usual.”

He smiles proudly as he sits next to me, reaching for my hand. He plays with the rings that adorn my ring finger that he gave me 2 1/2 years and 1 1/2 years ago. “And how’s my beautiful wife?”

Memories of those two magnificent days always bring me the greatest joy.

Seeing him slowly go down on his knee in front of the fireplace at the Chalet, him declaring his “everlasting love” and how much his life has felt “more fulfilled since meeting me at the chalet,” how big of a surprise I’ve been to him, how much he’s loved every minute of our lives together, and how he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with me. The pure love and joy he exhibited on his face the moment I said yes will forever be etched in my mind, making me fall in love with him that much more than I already was.

Hearing the words “I do” in the most confident manner with the biggest smile on his gorgeous features will also remain a constant memory of one of the best days of my life. The tan suit he wore, the stunning dress that I still love to this day, the warm sand under our bare feet, the sun setting behind us as our family and our closest friends watched us begin the next chapter in our lives.

A kiss to the back of my hand brought me back to the present, “She is confused as to where her husband is taking all of us.” I raise my eyebrow in question towards him eliciting a chuckle from his lips.

“You trust me, darling?”

“You know I do.”

He squeezes my hand in affirmation, “Then will you please believe me when I tell you that you will not be disappointed?” He places another kiss on the back of my hand, ending this discussion in the most gentlemanly way possible. Damn him.

I decide to trust him as I have since the day we met, resting my head on his shoulder, careful not to wake our most precious gift and catch some much needed sleep before we land in who-knows-where.

Upon the pilot’s message about our upcoming decent, I was instructed to put on a blindfold by my husband, adding to the surprise he has in store for us. I was hesitant, skeptical of being robbed of my site for the time being but I trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

He took an anxious Bobby and our gray cat Sadie out as soon as the door to the plane was opened and put them in the awaiting car. Listening to him coo at our son who was undoubtedly upset about being removed from my lap melted my heart. I wish I could have seen it instead of just heard it.

“Alright, my darling, your turn.” He guided me down the steps of the plane into the chilly atmosphere before he gently placed me into a car. He hopped into the drivers seat and we began the second leg of our journey.

The drive was peaceful. He had soft music playing so it wouldn’t wake up the baby in the back and he probably thought I would want to sleep a little more, too. I happily accepted the heaviness again, taking full advantage of not having to fuss over my son.

I was awoken by his soft whispers, “you can take the blindfold off now, darling.” I sat up in my seat before untying it. In front of the car, I see a gate. Tom sticks his arm out the drivers side window, inserting a key into a keyhole effectively opening the gate. I look around and see the bright snow covering everything around. As he drives through the gate, I recognize the area immediately.

“When did the Chalet install a gate?” I ask Tom who has a shit-eating grin on his beautiful weathered face.

“Actually…” He trails off as we pull up to the Chalet and into a brand new garage built off to the side.

“Is this why it was under construction for so long?” I exit the vehicle, putting Bobby on his leash and grabbing Sadie’s carrier before rounding the car to the side Liam is on. Tom is already working to take his car seat out. Tom had told me right before we got married that the Chalet was under construction and would be for a few years. It broke my heart to know we couldn’t go there for our honeymoon, but where we did go was the most wonderful experience. Malaysia, Australia, and Bora Bora… the most fun and relaxing three months of my life. It was a God-send after the stress of planning a wedding and reception. We had a small ceremony with just us, our family, and our closest friends followed by a big reception a week later inviting everyone we know for a night of fun.

Tom ushered us up to the front door, unlocking the door with another key.

“When did Sal give you a key?” was my last question before we entered the building. My jaw dropped.

Everything looked completely different. There no longer was a front desk, but a foyer with benches and cubbies for coat hooks like a mud room. It opened up to the grand living room that Tom and I have made many memories from sitting together while reading and writing to when we sat by the fireplace after my midnight breakdown the night before to when he proposed to me right in this very spot.

The view of the mountain below still took my breath away even after all of this time and the many visits we’ve paid since that first time. As I took in the room I loved, I noticed the small details that weren’t there before. Pictures of us- me and Tom- from our first time here to our wedding day and our first family of three photos, solo pictures of Bobby, Sadie, and Liam I’ve taken over the course of the last few years.

I also noticed a few pieces of furniture that weren’t here before. A papasan chair was placed in the corner just like our home in London had. It’s the best place to sleep when I have a headache and Liam loves sleeping with me in it. There’s a picture of one of those occurrences hanging above it as to remind me of the first few weeks he was born.

Tom appeared next to me, having Liam in one arm, he wrapped the other arm around my waist pulling me closer and whispered in my ear, “Welcome home, baby.”

“Wait, what?” I gasped as the realization hit me. I turned to meet his eyes, “You bought it?!”

“Sal was looking to retire and I said I’d take it off his hands. He gave me a great deal considering we were his favorites.” He kissed me tenderly before pulling back again. “I wanted this to be our home; a place we raise our family, make memories in. What better way to unveil the finished renovations by bringing us all and spending the holidays here?”

I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, squealing in excitement. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could call this place “home.” It’s always been a home away from home. Every time I would have to leave, I’d feel like I was leaving a piece of myself behind. But my wonderful, thoughtful husband made it happen. He made this place that holds a special place in both of our hearts into our dream home where we will raise our son and our future children, where we will start family traditions that will be passed down to our children when they have children of their own, a place where our families can come together for the holidays, birthdays, and vacations… a place to call home.

“Do you approve?” He purrs into my ear.

“Do I approve?” I ask incredulously. I pull back to face him, “This is one of the best surprises I could have ever asked for.” I place a quick kiss on his lips. “Thank you.” I turn my attention to our beautiful son who was wide awake now, “did Daddy buy us a new home?” My baby voice came out, “did he?” I took possession of him, kissing his scrumptious chubby cheeks repeatedly. Tom chuckled at how ridiculous I sound but he’s gotten used to it now. “We’re going to be so happy here.”

Tom brings us on a tour to show me all that was done to make it work for us as a family home. Two of the rooms were combined to give us the most incredible master suite I’ve ever seen, including a spa-like master bathroom and a see-through fireplace that connects the two.

Two of the other rooms were redone into bedrooms for Liam and a future child with closets and their own bathrooms. Two other rooms was changed into guest suites for family or friends who want to come stay with us.

But the most amazing surprise out of all of this was the last room was my dedicated writing space. A serene room including a desk, a bookcase that contained all of my books and my unfinished works, cups filled with my favorite kinds of pens, plenty of loose-leaf printer paper, other notebooks I’ve yet to use, anything I could possibly use or need. The real kicker was in what looks like a wardrobe was a Murphy bed. I had always said that my ideal office would include a Murphy bed because I do my best writing in bed. I spend most nights up until the wee hours of the morning writing and I didn’t want to keep my future partner awake with my habit. I couldn’t wait to get started.

The kitchen was converted into a beautiful chef’s kitchen with quartz counter tops with a gorgeous chevron backsplash, normal-sized stainless steel appliances, white cabinets and cupboards and a banquette that was build into the large island that could fit our growing family. It opened up to the living room and dining room now which made the space seem so much bigger than it already is.

I could picture Tom at the stove, making breakfast for us on Saturdays while I watch from either the island or on the couch in the living room. I could imagine both of our families flying around the room busying themselves with whatever dish they were in charge of for the holidays. I see Tom and I enjoying quiet midnight snacks while sitting on the island or on the floor and mid-day food fights like we had during our first encounter.

The gym was also revamped and the laundry room was scaled down to accommodate a family instead of a hotel. It was all so perfect. It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It was our new reality.

As we start this new chapter in our lives in Colorado with our little family, I can’t believe how my life has turned out…

In six years, I went from a single, aspiring writer who just released her first book going on a solo vacation for solitude and inspiration to a best-selling novelist, the wife of one of England’s finest gentleman who also happened to be one of my biggest celebrity crushes, and the mother of his unbelievably adorable son.

Never in a million years would I have thought this was where my life would end up after being stuck with him in a beautiful secluded Chalet. Our time in seclusion would be the catalyst for the ride of a lifetime. Half a dozen years later with a painful, but eye-opening year separation, five more published books and book tours for me, five movies and long press tours for him, a long awaited wedding plus reception, and a beautiful baby boy later… here we are in the same Chalet we met converted into our dream home with our son, dog, and cat. Life couldn’t be better.

The holidays in our new home were better than I expected. Our moms fussed over Liam as much as they possibly could when they weren’t concerned with cooking for all of us. When they weren’t all over him, Tom’s sisters were. It gave us some much-needed alone time in our brand new master suite. To say we took full advantage of our built-in babysitters was an understatement.

Thanksgiving came and went far too quickly. Our moms stayed after wanting as much time watching Liam discover something new every day and spoil him as much as they can since neither of us live close to our families with his in England and mine in the states. Our busy schedules don’t allow for us to see them as often as we’d both like. But ever since Liam was born, we’ve both taken tons of time off- no movies, no press tours, no auditions, no publication meetings- and we’ve gotten the opportunity to see them more.

By Christmas though, Tom and I were ready for it to be over so we could go back to our normal. We love our moms, more so now that we have our own child, but they were beginning to become “smothers.” Thankfully by Christmas Eve, Tom’s sisters were back and they could focus on more than just us. That night we decorated the tree with ornaments from our respective childhoods and the ornaments we made to commemorate Liam’s first Christmas and our first as a family of three. We drank cider and eggnog around the fireplace as we watched the snow fall, sharing stories of our favorite memories and our most memorable present. Christmas morning was full of excitement with our nieces and nephews tearing open their presents and Liam wanting nothing to do with his. For dinner my mom’s famous Swedish meatballs were made and devoured by everyone. Our family’s Jell-O dessert with strawberry Jell-O with strawberries added, whipped cream and pretzels was a big hit with the whole family, even Liam had a small taste and he continued to suck on Tom’s finger trying to get every last morsel of flavor. It truly was a day of merriment.

The next day the chaos had ebbed. We finally got back to our quiet household with our routine. We spend New Years Eve watching the fireworks through the multi-story, floor-to-ceiling windows. A picture perfect site made for the best New Years I had ever had.

By the time we were leaving in mid-January because Tom was due on set for his first movie after the baby, we discovered our family was going to gain another member.

When the holidays came around again, our daughter Julia was the apple of everyone’s eye who met her, completing our already-perfect family. She has Tom’s ginger locks and her blue-turning-green eyes are like mine but so much more to die for. She has the sweetest temperament, just like her brother. I can tell already that they completely adore each other. I can’t wait to watch Liam be the protective big brother I always wanted growing up. With a father like Tom, I know he will be the best man- sensitive, caring, soft- everything I love about him. Julia will be the most headstrong and stubborn woman just like me. For now though I’m good with them staying my babies.

As I sit in the papasan chair in the corner with my sweetest little girl sleeping in one arm, I have a pen in the other hand. Words were flowing out of me as if a levee had just given way. Finally getting some peace and quiet after the busy holiday season, I’ve had time to come up with an idea for my next book.

“I see some things never change.” I look to see the love of my life standing where the doorway used to be, where he said those exact same words to me after our year separation. This time however, he was holding our son on his hip, matching smiles on both of them. My handsome boys.

I can’t hide the smile that seems to be a constant on my face nowadays, “But would you really want them to?”

His smile grows bigger as he makes his way over to me, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on my lips. He pulls back a hair and whispers, “Never,” in the huskiest tone instantly reminding me of the God of Mischief.

I can’t help but giggle like a schoolgirl when he talks like that. This man still gives me butterflies even after all these years. He still makes my heart race every time he looks at me or touches me. I still get goosebumps when he tells me he loves me, which is multiple times a day. I still love him- I’m still IN love with him- even more than I was yesterday but less than I will be tomorrow. I sigh in complete and utter contentment.

Meeting at this Chalet was the best decision we both could have ever made. The blizzard that stranded us here was the best thing in the world that could have happened to us. I can’t wait to see what the next chapter of our lives has in store for all four of us.

the end.

Taglist: @the-marvel-wars @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @hiddlephile

#meet me at the chalet #tom hiddleston #Thomas William Hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x female!reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston series #mmatc

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psychedelicharrie · 5 years

Text

Behavior Exercise

Hi girls, guys and non-binary pals <3

This is the scond fanfic i write, this one is inspired in a movie called The Road Within and hopefully my first series so please let me know if you want me to keep posting it, maybe is not as good as i think it is haha i’d really appretiate some feedback, also, english is not my first lenguage so please be nice i’m trying :(

WARNINGS: 4k+ mentions of drugs, alcohol and mental illness. This fanfic contains sensitive topics like anorexia, OCD and drug addictions if you feel triggered by any of this topics please do not read it.

“Nineteen, twenty, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three” You could hear Robert whispering a number for each mug whilst cleaning one per one with an anti-bacterial microfiber cloth he just bought yesterday. You take another sip of your non sugared coffee already cold keeping your gaze in your roommate who was onto an old baby blue wooden chair, his favorite, because it was easier to clean than the other ones “Twenty four, twenty five…twenty fiv-five” he stutters with a low voice almost like a secret he can only hear. You put your mug down on the table knowing what is coming next, like every other morning, he just hated odds numbers.

“Five- twenty fiv-five” He keeps repeating walking back and forth all over the kitchen with his hand scratching his head pulling his blonde curls. “Hey, good morning” A deep British accent stops you from standing up and walking towards Robert making him stop as well. He looked at both of you just to switch his gaze feeling the pressure in the air as he continues to grab an empty plastic cup from the kitchen bar assuming he could get in trouble if he gets anywhere near the mugs shelf.

“Morning, did you have a good rest?” You greet with an awkward smile on your face. Harry moved in just a week ago so it is understandable he’s not fully used to Rob’s breakdowns as you are after nine years. You know Rob since secondary school; a catholic schoolhouse in Portlaoise where special and difficult teenagers were sent by his parents to make them better, doesn’t work pretty well if they ask you. Robert and you shared some classes and weekly group’s therapy meetings, however, you only knew him as the schizo boy just to find out, years later, he does not suffer from schizophrenia but a severe ODC and constants paranoid episodes, it all got worst four years ago when he came home to find out his mom had left a day before the graduation night, all she left was a note saying how sorry she was, a load of cash, a blue tuxedo he was supposed to be wearing at the dance and an empty home.

Four years ago

You lost count of how many minutes, maybe hours, you have been staring at the old pink dress your dad had bought you for tonight’s dance, it would be better if he could actually share the evening with you but it was too much to ask, you thought. It had stopped raining some hours ago but a loud splash outside your window snaps you from your deep thoughts about tonight, a rowdy cry followed the splash “SHE LEFT ME, WHY DOES EVERYBODY BLODY LEFT ME?” You ran to your window to see what was happening, and then, you saw Rob on a puddle wearing anything but his underpants and his navy blue tuxedo in his hands all covered in mud, just as him. He was crying and screaming while Miss Gillen held him helping him for hurting himself “MY DAD IS DEAD AND MOM HATES ME, I-I ‘AVE NO ONE, NO ONE FUCKING CARES ABOUT ME” He yelled at the sky escaping from Miss Gillen’s arms slapping mercilessly his face and pulling his blonde hair roughly.

You have spent almost a decade in that hypocrite househole where religious people pretended to know what was good and bad, and even worst, pretending they care about all of you. You knew people were lonely back there, after all, most of you were abandoned by your families, they just gave up on most of you and you were aware of that. You knew everyone there was ill, was broken and alone, new people came and then they left, some people have been taken to the hospital after a breakdown and they have never returned, it was hard to live in a place like that were you could share breakfast with someone just to wake up the next day with their bed empty and another casket full, that’s why you decided to not make any friends, carrying with other person’s problems could destroyed you just as much as losing another loved one, but when you saw him all covered in mire when just yesterday he cried in the middle of the cafeteria because he spilled a drop of tea in his pants something changed in you. You almost didn’t recognize him; it was the same guy who couldn’t even walk outside his bedroom without latex gloves, however he was there outside your room, broken and scared. He had no one and you knew that feeling.

“Rumor has it you have your own place now” You said having a sit next to him in cafeteria two days after the dance. He looked strange at you “do yo-do you eat?” He answered you sharply but those comments didn’t bother you anymore. You smiled at him taking a sip of your water bottle “so, is it true?” You insisted “‘s not mine, ‘s me mums” he mumbled cleaning the spot of the table you just removed your hand from. “But she left” you say abruptly making him look at you, finally getting some strong eye contact, he kept silence trying not to cry, you leaned closer to him and whispered “when are we escaping this hole then?”.

Now

It’s been four years since you convinced Rob to leave that place, four years since you’ve been living together in that house his mom had left for him, and four years of the only caring human interaction you both have; you take care for each other and you could say it was the first time in ages that you haven’t feel lonely.

“Could been better if I’m honest” Harry replies with a cheeky smile “Of course it could have been better, it could have been better if you just would stop yourself from snoring the whole night” Robert cuts Harry off “Did you know he goes to sleep without taking a shower? and WE have to share room it’s just unacceptable, unaccepta- unacceptable” You can see Rob’s face turning red and his eyes looking at you almost popping out at the memory of last night.

“Oh I’m sorry, did my snoring muffle that boring music you sleep with?” Harry says without looking at him as he pours some orange juice to his cup “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate quiet music you cheap ass Mick Jagger” Robert spits roughly making Harry giggle as he decides to stop the argue blowing him a kiss. He was cheeky and irreverent and you like that, Harry was like a new specimen like a new world you wish to explore, it was something you have never seen before, neither you or Rob haven’t met anyone like Harry, you feel excited about this new experience even though now and then you feel guiltiness for making Rob go through this, you know he’s not looking forward this as much as you are, in fact since Harry is living with you Rob’s stress levels has been higher than usual.

When you left the clinic you decided come up with a plan to keep both of you sane, you knew Rob’s money it wasn’t going to last more than a few months and his disability allowance was not enough for both of you, so you decided to get a job and attend to some free therapy session at a community center near Rob’s house, and that’s how Harry came into your life.

One month ago

What it seemed like a normal summer rain predicting its end becomes a dreadful storm within minutes. You make you steps larger covering your head with your old jacked which is completely useless as you try to rush Rob who is a couple steps behind you freaking out because his boots and the bottom of his pants are all covered in mud. There’s only a couple of blocks left to the community center where both of you attend to the weekly sessions that keep yourself sort of sane. You arrive to the center soaking wet and just in time to the session, however, you spend a few minutes taking care of Rob helping him to clean himself.

Both of you take a seat in the circle in the middle of the huge cold room; the therapist, Arthur welcomes you with a big smile understanding the weather was not something you could control or change. “So now that we’re complete…” he stand up and says looking at Rob and you “Are you okay, Robert?” he asks kindly to what Rob just nods “great, now I want to start this meeting introducing our new member, he comes all the way from London so I ask you to be nice and make him feel welcome”.

You were too busy taking care of your friend and cursing at the wind that you haven’t notice the new member of the group; a tall white guy with silky curls, they seem recently wet as well even tho he doesn’t look bother about it. Your gaze travels his figure from bottom to top; he’s wearing some old used boots, a pair of blue jeans and a grey hoodie. You notice his big and strong hands as he says hi to the group with one of them; both decorated with multiple rings, It’s not until your glance meets his big emerald eyes ornamented with some bags under them that you realized you are probably staring too much, as you try to look somewhere else you see he offers a smile at you; not yet a malicious one, not yet a kindly one, it was more like something in between; a cheeky lovely but arrogant smile.

“Hi, I’m Harry, Nice to meet you all” He says briefly without taking his eyes off of you he looks at the rest of the group smiling still just to sit down again. You could hear some distant and slow claps, probably your partners are just as confused as you; most of the introductions were followed by a whole crazy story of why are they there and even some tears and breakdowns but never just a cheeky smile and a breathtaking glance. “You probably want to tell us why you’re here Harry” Arthur says looking at him.

“’kay, if you want me to” He says rubbing his palms on his thighs looking at the ground until he speaks again “…I’m a sex addict” he looks up staring challenging at Arthur chuckling. Arthur looks quite annoyed he probably knows what the newbie’s here for, you’ve shared these sessions with some sex addicts they only last two or three weeks top, but you are pretty sure he’s just joking. “Probably just another junkie” Rob speaks up louder than he expected. The whole room is filled with silence for a couple seconds even you fell Harry deep gaze on Rob “Wanna bet pretty boy? can show you”

“Harry is here because he’s trying to keep himself sober and we’re to help him, okay?” Arthur interrupts quickly “He’s new in town so if you know about some apartment available for him would be a great favor”. The rest of the session keeps going pretty normal even though you can’t focus on any of your partners, you are too confused yet intrigued about the whole new guy situation; after that interaction you can tell Rob has been tense since then, on the other side Harry seems cool about it, you were expecting him being an asshole with the rest of the group as they share their week with you, but instead he listens carefully, looking attentive to each person who stands up, he even shares some advices with them, good advices. Robs is kind of right, he is a junkie, still he is not just another junkie, there was something different about him and you want it to find out.

“Hey, so the new guy is looking for somewhere to live” You say to Rob who was cleaning the snack table of the therapy room. “There are a lot of bridges he can live under” He replies without looking at you, he was too focused stacking some water bottles carefully. You take a piece of fruit and a bottle of water as you feel Arthur Gaze on you “I was thinking he can live with us, we have a spare room” Robert stops abruptly his stacking process just to give you a perplexed look “are you seriously suggesting me to offer my house to a bloody drug addict we just literally met just because he’s hot?”

“C’mon… I never said he was hot” Rob turns his face back to the table cleaning something else you don’t even see “That’s not the point, I’m not letting a stranger sleeping under my roof” “You let me sleep under your roof, beside, we can actually use some extra money” you say looking for the new guy in the room “and he seems fun” Robert grunts rolling his eyes at the sight of you looking for him. “Robert, Y/N, we’re about to the closure would you please join us?” Arthur says from a distance. “take it as behavior exercise” You insist Rob with a begging look with both of your hands together “I’ll think about it” He cuts the conversation walking away from you.

One week ago

You make your way into de kitchen to find Rob finishing his cleaning routine; you overslept this morning understandable after keeping yourself with almost anything but water for the last three days. “Morning babe” You said weakly to your friend as he quickly reach a chair for you to sit “Hey, I made you some breakfast” He says as he opens the fridge taking out a plate with fruit and oats “There’s no need Rob, I’m going to be late to work” You say as you try to stand up but he grabs your arm in order to stop you from getting up, you look at his hand wrapped around your arm and look back at him in shock; his germophobia doesn’t let him have any physical interaction with other people, he never touches anybody and freaks out when somebody touches him. Is the first time in years you’ve feel his touch; even though he’s wearing latex gloves as usual you can feel the warm emanating from his big and soft hand.

“You might take care of me most of the time but I’m not stupid Y/N, I know you haven’t eaten a full meal in four days, so please, sit down and eat your breakfast” He finally releases your arm as he walks to his room to probably change his gloves. The whole situation leaves so speechless that you don’t have any other choice to do what you’ve been told. You can’t remember a time when Robert has ever touched you or at least without having a crisis, definitely your relationship has grown a lot in those couple years and now it seems like he cares about you more every day and part of you couldn’t just let him down.

As you keep eating your meal and thinking about your relationship with Rob a knock on the door snaps you out to reality and you hear Rob rushing to the door “no, no, you can’t leave the table until you finish”. He reaches to the door and takes a big breathe before open it just to find a pair of emerald eyes looking at him “Oh Hi, nice to see you again Pretty boy” Harry says after finishing his cigarette and stepping on it “Oh it’s you, what do you want?” he asks hiding half of his body behind the door. Harry smirks and shows him the black suitcase he was holding. Robert knew what he was there for he just forgot about it when he looked into his eyes. Today is the day that Harry moves into the house; after a couple endless nights convincing Rob of letting him stay today you got yourself a new roommate.

“Oh, right, come on in, I guess” Rob says opening the door wider for Harry to come in. “Take your shoes off” Robert adds without looking at him walking towards the kitchen “Normally I only accept to take my clothes off after a couple of drinks but for you pretty b..” “We don’t use shoes inside the house, that’s the first rule, it’s not a joke” Rob cuts Harry off abruptly facing him again “Okay, take it easy they’re off” Harry says without erasing his cheeky smile of his face “I think we didn’t even say hi properly ” Harry adds offering his hand to Rob, he has heard that he’s quite special to interact with but there’s no person in the world that Harry can’t just win over, he’s irrelevant and funny and just full of natural charm, everybody likes him and he’s aware of that but there is something in Rob Harry just feels attracted to, he likes to push his buttons it’s like a challenge and he has always loved a good challenge.

Robert stares at Harry’s Hand for a moment “I don’t do that” he adds looking back into Harry’s eyes “you don’t do handshakes?” Harry replies chuckling at Rob’s weird affirmation; who doesn’t do handshakes? “I don’t touch people” Robert replies almost yelling at Harry; his face started to turn red and his breathe is getting harder to catch. Harry’s afraid maybe he went too far but it was not his intention at all, he like to mess with people but not like that. “Hey, it’s fine, hi Harry”

You rushed to finish your plate as soon as you heard Harry’s deep voice coming from the door not because you feel excited but because you’re worried about Rob’s reaction, after all they didn’t have a great first meeting. You follow their voices that lead you to the living room; Harry was wearing some regular skinnies and a black t-shirt somehow on him that simple outfit looks like the most complex combination of clothing, a bunch of tattoos covered his arms making him look cooler than the junkie you see every Friday night. Robert raising his voice makes you stop staring at your new roommate and actually talk to him.

“Hey, N/Y, morning” Harry answers with a big smile on his face, you don’t remember his skins glowing as much as it does today it is hard not to stare at him. “Are you ready to move in?” You ask nicely as Robert tries to calm down adjusting his gloves and taking deep breathes “Yep, pretty much” Harry says pointing at his suitcase. You show him the place; is not too big it’s only a small one floor house with three bedrooms but it’s a way to make him feel comfortable. As you show him around Robert starts telling him the most important rules of the house and Harry only nods at both of you.

“So this would be your room” you say finishing the house tour opening the door between Rob’s bedroom and yours “As we told you before It’s not habitable right now, we need to fix the roof and most of the walls they’re almost ruined by humidity, we were thinking maybe with the deposit and probably your first payment we can like fix it meanwhile you can share room with Robert if that’s okay with you” You say showing him where the humidity has damage the roof “Sure, it’s going to be a pleasure” Harry winks at Robert who seems bothered enough already. You can see how annoyed Rob is by this new roommate situation, however, you know if he wouldn’t agree with this he would tell you, besides somehow it seems like he’s more anxious that bothered about it; he thinks you didn’t realize but you saw him cleaning his room twice last night a strange way to say he’s excited about the next day. Maybe both of you are excited about sharing your life with someone new, someone as special as Harry seems to be, maybe it’s just attraction, maybe it’s just Harry’s aura that makes everyone go a little bit crazy about him or maybe it’s only your mind playing tricks on you but at that moment you realized something in your life is about to change drastically and you quite like that.

Now

“C’mon Y/N you have to finish it” Robert says with his elbows on the table resting his head on both of his hands, you’ve been struggling to finish your meal for almost an hour now and Robert is more than exhausted now, you can see it and you feel bad of seeing those lovely green eyes so tired because of you but you just can´t finish it. “I can´t Robert I promise” You say pouting your mouth on a failed attempt of leaving the table. Harry just appears on the kitchen and watches the scene grabbing an apple “take it as a behavior exercise” Rob adds with an exhausted voice. “Behavior exercise? what’s that? Harry asks with his mouth full of the bite he just took.

“Back in the schoolhouse we had exercises to learn how to deal with our illnesses; they made us do things to get tour limits and they just acted like nothing was happening at all” you say playing with the food on your plate. “Once they made me walk with dirty trousers for a whole day!” Robert continues giving Harry an indignant look. Robs turns back at you pushing your plate closer to you.

“Interesting” Harry responds taking the seat in front of you; he search for your gaze and looks right into your eyes getting your full attention as he usually does whenever he’s near you. “C’mon Y/N you’re better than a plate of food, are you gonna let a couple of vegetables defeat you?” the room is filled with silence as he smiles at you and leaves the kitchen making his way out to the porch. If anyone else would say that to you you would throw the plate at them with no hesitation, but the way those words left his mouth like he knew everything about yourself plus the way he looked at you just made you believe every single of them. You look back at Robert who was already falling asleep on the table and continue to finish your meal.

Once your plate is empty you help Robert to go to bed and clean your dishes as you always do. You remember Harry’s outside and decide to make him company smoking your nightly cigarette as usual. He was laying half of his body on the wooden bench of the porch. He looks so lost in his thoughts you almost feel guilty about interrupting because as soon as you step outside he turns and smiles widely at you “How was your behavior exercise?” he say probably joking or probably actually concerned you never know what his intentions are, that man was a complete enigma to you. “Beat the fuck out if it” you say quietly as you stand beside him lighting the last cigarette of the pack. He chuckles loudly in responds.

After that you just stay there enjoying the silence and the smoke coming out of both of your cigarettes; the night is particularly quiet, the stars are shinier and the wind juts take the bunch of your thoughts and concerns with it. It’s nice to spend time with someone who’s not constantly asking if you have washed your hands already or telling you how disgusting is the habit of smoking. None of you feel the need to fill the lack of conversation at that moment; you are so focused on enjoying the moment that you almost don’t realize that out of nowhere Harry decides to break the silence with a question.

“Why did you let me stay in here?” He asks with a husky voice keeping his eyes on his cigarette “Robert thinks you’re hot” you respond after a couple of seconds and even though you are looking at the sky you can feel Harry smiling at your answer. “yeah, well, I don’t blame him” he says annoyingly turning his body towards you “but I’m sure that’s not the only reason why you guys let a good-looking junkie staying at your place, and if you do I’m quite concerned, I must reckon” you face him narrowing your eyes at his smart ass answer.

“Robert and I have this weird dream of make a sheltered for people in need, people who have been abandoned by their families like us, we saw a chance on you” you say letting the smoke of you cigarette fill your lungs and letting it out. “It’s like the biggest behavior exercise you ever had then?” Harry says with an adorable voice, one you’ve never heard before “You might say” You say smiling at him just to continue enjoying the clear sky above you.

#fanfiction #fanfic #behavior exercise #Harry Styles #angst #fluff #imagine #SOFT!HARRY #robert sheehan

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prettysicksupply · 5 years

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The Resolution of Grief

Because I’m having one of these moments today, I’m going to do something I don’t usually do. I’m going to share our monthly blog message here, instead of just hoping folks will hit our home page to read it.

This is part of a larger conversation that we need to be able to have within the community about the realities of being people who live with pain and illness and disability. And if I need to be the one to start the conversation- I’m ok with that.

So here is our message for January... well, mine (SarahCate) anyway.

...The Resolution of Grief...

Since days before the new year, you've no doubt been inundated with the resolutions of the able-bodied. Losing weight, exercising more, working harder, playing harder, saving money, getting ahead...

Watching the flood of posts as someone with chronic pain, someone who can't work, who often struggles even to get out of bed- it's a bit odd.

I used to be a resolution maker. Before I got sick and the world went upside down on me, I made the same resolutions most people made. I spent years wishing I was thinner, smarter, wealthier- had a better job, had more friends, had a relationship. I resolved to exercise more, to eat better, to get ahead. And then I got sick. And resolutions for personal betterment shifted into longing for improvement. It stopped being about setting intentions and more about clinging to hopes.

I haven't set actual resolutions in some years. For one, my life has taken a track that diverges from most my age, and for another- well, looking back at years of frustration, it seemed to me that setting resolutions was simply pre-planning failure. So I stopped. This year though, reading post after post after post I started thinking about what I *would* resolve, if I were to take up that mantle again. What are the things I should strive for this year?

And I realized there are things, within my pain-limited life that I can aspire to do better.

1. I will recognize and respect my limitations, while listening to and honoring my body's signals.

2. I will rest when rest is needed. (Yes, even if I've just gotten up. Even if I haven't actually done anything yet).

3. I will require that others respect my limitations, and not feel ashamed for doing so.

4. I will be kind to myself.

5. I will allow myself my grief

That last one is probably the surprise on this list for most. But think about it. As people with chronic conditions, disabilities, pain, illnesses (invisible and visible) we are flooded with what I like to call, positivity porn. You see it especially vividly in the cancer community. The power of positive thinking! Think Positive! It could always be worse! I met a man with no shoes, feet, legs etc.etc.etc.

...The rest of this very long post under the break...

We're surrounded by demands to see the bright side, if not for our own good, well- then to avoid bringing down those around us. No one wants to see the depressed disabled girl moping about right?! That's not inspiring! And let's face it, that's what all of us disabled sickies are here for right? To inspire! :gag:

And I'm not saying don't find the silver lining. Find it, embrace it, find your joy and run with it (or limp or roll as the case may be). What I'm saying is there is a grief to being sick. There is a grief to being disabled. A grief to being in pain. And that is ok. It is ok to say, this sucks. To have a moment where you are stricken by your reality and you allow yourself to FEEL that.

In 2018 I already began embracing this and I plan to continue it in the new year. I live with constant, chronic, debilitating- often almost dehumanizing levels of pain. It has affected every aspect of my life. And though, for the most part, I find great joy and value in the things I am able to do and accomplish- every few months I will wake up and immediately be completely overwhelmed by the knowledge that this pain is never going to go away. That it is, in fact, going to get worse. Forever. Even at the age of 37, that's a lot to take in.

But where previously I would have plastered on a smile and ignored that pain, this year- I've done something new. I've given myself permission to grieve. To sit in those moments and allow my tears to fall, to yell into my pillow, to pull the covers over my head and sob heavy, hard, loud shaking cries. Because the fact is- it fucking sucks. And there is nothing wrong with acknowledging that. For me, these moments are now almost therapeutic. The unexpected catharsis of my life. Close friends and family can often hear it in my voice, and they've learned to give me both love and space. Time to mourn a little, room for a very small pity party- and the knowledge that in a day, or at worst- two, I'll be fine again. Back to my usual self, kicking ass, taking names, flying around in my chair and managing my new reality as best I can.

A few months ago at a regular doctor's appointment, I was having one of those moments. But as I had the money for the copay and the energy to get there- I wasn't about to cancel. I managed to stave off the despair until I sat in the exam room alone and waiting. But then, the tears welled over. I was exhausted, in pain, and suddenly- again- overwhelmed by this reality. Instead of fighting it, I cried. I was still crying when my doctor arrived, and I explained- I was just having a moment. They happen. Not often, but every now and then. And that in a day or two, I'd be fine again. It's just.. part of the cycle of this reality.

And true to form, by the next day- all was leveled out again. But part of the thing that keeps me from drowning in those moments is that when they come I allow myself to feel them. I allow myself to acknowledge that there is a grief to be had in this. And all that is accomplished by ignoring that grief and stuffing it down is to schedule a much bigger and much more dangerous breakdown for a later date.

There is health and healing in allowing yourself to grieve. Even when what you're grieving is your own life, your own sense of normalcy, your own daily condition.

And so, as the new year rings in- I wish you all the resolution of grief.

Because you are allowed to grieve, even when others would prefer you pop with positivity. YOU are living your daily existence, not them. And sometimes, that means honoring even your grief.

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aboriginalnewswire · 6 years

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Trigger warning for sexual abuse, stalking, rape, domestic violence and large-scale attacks by hate groups. Last Thursday, I criticized the Linux community for continuing to support and center a leader with a years-long, documented history of unrepentant abusive behavior, someone who has actively and systematically nurtured a hostile, homogeneous technical community, and someone who has long actively chased people from marginalized groups out of open source. The retaliation has been terrifying. On Friday night, the home addresses of every member of my immediate family were posted online. I have received literally thousands of harassing, abusive, threatening and violent messages across at least half a dozen separate sites. People speaking up in support of me had their home addresses posted online as well, sometimes within minutes, creating a climate of fear that has functionally isolated me from most community support. I have received slurs of every variety, death and rape threats, and violent and threatening images. They have gone after my business and my family's livelihoods with slander, intimidation and attempts to cut off financial support, and tried to hack into various of my accounts and systems. They have left pages and pages of stomach-turning comments on the front of every internet community I am a part of and that influences my professional community and peers. As I was reeling from my family being doxxed and taking steps to ensure everyone’s safety, the tech press was giving a massive platform to an ex-partner - someone I dated for four months more than 3 years ago - who has, after I dumped him, terrorized, threatened and abused me for years, and continues to do so. This is a person who is a known liar, abuser and manipulator, with a long history of stalking, hacking and terrorizing women, who is now being treated as an authoritative character witness on one of his long-term victims - for the sole purpose of destroying my company, discrediting my work, and terrorizing me into silence. This is a person who has hacked nude photos of me and sent them to my employers - yes, bosses, executive team and investors. (I barely left my house for two weeks after and to this day cannot recall a time being more scared, depressed and humiliated). Details of my private sex life - provided by my ex - are now all over the internet and have been used to justify my abuse, incite more of it, and slut and kink-shame me. Valleywag -- less than a day after stealing stories from me, plagiarizing content from my Twitter, publishing my comments without permission or compensation, and refusing to properly acknowledge my work and job title -- has used its platform to replicate this terrorism and domestic violence to an even larger audience. Nevermind that their original articles had already incited harassment against me (they were posted over and over to the anonymous hate boards that attacked my family); their most recent article on me is an act of pure and spiteful violence following my critiques of their behavior. The past few days have been terrifying, and my heart is broken. This is abuse. This is domestic violence. This is harassment. This is terrorism. While many are eager to claim that I am actually being abused because I'm crazy, a liar, a fraud, a troll, a hypocrite, a neo-Nazi, a whore, because I've had kinky sex, because I dated an abuser, because I'm mean to men on Twitter, because I swear a lot, because I'm a "blogger" that contributes nothing to the field: I am being targeted because of my work speaking up against tech culture. My work is what has made me a target, but it is nonetheless ironically (or maybe predictably) being erased in a frothing media-frenzy to portray me as a useless, insane "PR girl", a hysterical slut with a social media account, and to generate page views from my pain. (I'm posting this on Pastebin because unlike most of the tech press, I refuse to use this abuse as a machine for eyeballs and ad dollars.) In case you’re not familiar with my work, let me tell you about it. A few years ago, I started blogging independently about tech culture, giving talks about it, and organizing resistance efforts on social media. In that period, I produced several books-worth of essays that deconstructed in detail harmful elements of tech culture, discussed useful modes of intervention and resistance, and called out collective complicity in oppression across the industry... including my own complicity. I also began using my Twitter account to talk about my experiences with misogyny in tech, call out inequality and advocate for change - and yes, I use swear words on Twitter dot com, and you will handle it because you’re not a fucking three year old. (I might take your cookies and smash your fucking Xbox anyway, though.) I did this in my spare time until late in 2013, when I started working full-time on Model View Culture, which launched in January '14. In the past year, Model View Culture has produced a body of tech and cultural criticism the size of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. We have published over 150 authors. Our publication consistently stands against discrimination, abuse and oppression in the tech industry. We have covered sexual abuse and assault, social media activism and abuse, the surveillance complex, engineering mythology, open source community, accessibility, hiring discrimination, mental illness and disability, consent in product design, workplace abuse, the VC industrial complex, suicide, white liberalism, police violence, codes of conduct, team dysfunctions, and systemic discrimination, violence and inequality at every stage of the technology pipeline. We publish and pay a large and diverse groups of writers speaking to their experiences, to their beliefs and to their sense of justice, to their demands for a better tech industry. We challenge racism & white supremacy, sexism and misogyny, transphobia, ableism, classism and other forms of institutionalized oppression rampant in tech. I believe we have produced more critical content from diverse voices than any other tech media. Model View Culture is not perfect. It is not a panacea. It is not done, or complete. It is one year old, just getting started, and there is so much more for us to do. But we have been an influential, if small, part of the growing attempts to call out and dismantle fundamental problems in the tech community. This work is what people are desperate to stop, by any means including trying to get my family killed by SWATing, trying to convince me to kill myself, terrorizing my supporters, stalking me (I have had multiple men stalk me for 6-14 months at a time), hacking my computers and accounts, "exposing" my sex life, cutting off my funding, belittling and erasing my writing, plagiarizing my content, sending constant rape and death threats, and ceaselessly holding me up for abuse to hate groups. This has been my life for almost two years. I'm sad to say that part of you starts to get used to it. But I also want to tell you about what it does to me and other victims of these attacks. Because of my work, I can no longer make public appearances, speak at events or have anyone know where I am or what I'm doing. I can't have friends over to my house because no one can know where I live. My social life consists only of a few close friends who I feel I can trust. Many of them also undergo the same shit I do - other people don’t understand and find it too stressful to be around. I am traumatized by what is now years of active stalking and abuse; abuse committed by tech workers and unaffiliated individuals, by anonymous harassers and influential figures in tech, and by media both in tech and mainstream. My sex life is fodder for 8chan and corrupt journalists trying to destroy my company because it is competition and it poses a threat to their press-release factories, funded by startups and venture capitalists and uncritically reproducing their propaganda. I receive anywhere between dozens and thousands of harassing messages each week. Anything bad that happens to me is considered “normal” and “expected”, and any reason to expose me to abuse is sufficient. People say I am a "professional victim", suggesting I am somehow profiting off my work, but I am now unemployable in the field I once loved and make a fraction of what I used to make as a tech worker. I spend an enormous amount of money and time securing my safety. It is no longer safe for me to do media appearances as media abuses me, demeans me, violates my boundaries, steals my content and holds me up for abuse, offering no support or protection: every article has resulted in more stalkers and harassment. I am frequently cut off from support because people who support me are afraid to be targeted as well. That's just my everyday. Then there's these recent attacks. Frankly, I am devastated, depressed, vulnerable, non-functional, anxious, paranoid and isolated. I’ve visibly lost weight since last Thursday. My heart hurts and my body aches. I feel humiliated, exploited, and am in physical pain. I'm frightened for myself, my family, my friends, and people in my community who have supported me. I am trying to keep working but honestly, it is incredibly difficult. I had a lot of plans for Model View Culture in the beginning of this year, and unfortunately most of them are going to be delayed by at least weeks as I try to put my self-esteem and sense of safety back together, take the needed steps to protect myself, family and community, and process these feelings of fear, anxiety, trauma and anger. It's devastating to admit the toll this has taken on me, to accept that it is having such a significant impact on my work. I fear that people won’t want to write for Model View Culture anymore because doing this work is actually dangerous. As is, we have to publish far too many articles anonymously, because people fear losing their jobs and their safety for speaking out and telling their stories. I am asking myself how I can actually continue like this and run a company under these conditions. No other tech press is operating under this level of violence and terrorism, and we don’t have corporate money or VC funding to help us defend against it. It’s intimidating. I ask Model View Culture readers and community to be patient during this time. The truth of the matter is that as much as people want abuse victims to be fearless, to come out on top, to not be stopped: at some point, this is simply not realistic. That said, I'm not stopping, I am not going away, and I will continue, even if it happens a little slower or a little later than I planned. Changing tech is my life's work. I'm only 28, so you'll probably have to deal with it for at least the next few decades. This is a set-back for my health and my ability to work, but I'm here for the long-term. I am sad that my new normal is, well, this. But so be it. To everyone who has supported me in this time: Thank you so much. I haven't been able to respond to so many of you because it hasn't been safe to, but I appreciate and value your belief and faith in me. To everyone else: Go fuck yourself. Some specific “fucks yous” go out to: The Linux community, I hope you realize how fucking toxic and broken your “community” is after standing by silently as me and my entire family were terrorized after I criticized Linus Torvalds. I think you are cowardly and spineless and I stand behind everything I said. I also think you need to seriously look at the clear ties the Linux community has to 8chan and GamerGate which led many of the attacks on me. Andrew Auernheimer aka a blast of trash from my past: you started whining and crying the day I dumped your ass and you haven’t stopped since. May the ouroboros eat YOU, easily mistaken for a snake, and may you spend the rest of your days as you have to date - pathetic, prospectless, alone and heartbroken, ever-pining over women who hate your guts and clinging to any last scrap of fast-fading relevance. Milo Yiannopoulos, a failure of a human being but tremendous success as an opportunistic sell-out scumbag who has spent months digging up details on my sex life and leading harassment campaigns against me. Valleywag, particularly Valleywag editor Dan Lyons -- a white man who is 26 years older then me and uses my sex life for clickbait while citing Yiannopolous and Weev as a credible source in order to take me down. Also Jason Calacanis, who has supported my long term stalker Loren Feldman and is basically a shitstain of a human being who we should kick out of tech forever. Vivek Wadhwa, who is building his career off women in tech yet is transparently a misogynistic asshole who has used this opportunity to get back at me for criticizing his profiteering and patriarchal brand of "allyship." Also Elizabeth Spiers who continues to refuse to get the FUCK away from me after MONTHS of me asking to be left in peace. Get the fuck over me and move on with your life as a has-been. You are literally 10 years older than me, yet are relentlessly picking on a young woman with an up-and-coming media career like you once had. You look jealous and petty, and your ongoing obsession with me is creepy as fuck. In the remainder of this post, I am addressing my community. I realize that following my tweets can be difficult and not very coherent, especially as I have navigated the emotional roller coaster of the weekend. My anxiety is through the roof and I haven’t gotten much sleep. While I don't think I should have to explain and rehash my sex life, analyze terrorism against me at length, and somehow summon words out of a fog of anxiety, fear and depression, I want to get my views on the record. They have been dismissed, erased, deemed irrelevant, misconstrued, twisted and deployed against me. So here they are, FROM ME. They have made it too scary to defend me, so I defend myself: I, unequivocally, support ourselves and stand behind us. Lol. OK for real. I wanted to start by discussing my past sexual history. Since we are already so deep into my sex life - released non-consensually and with the sole aim of terrorizing me - let's talk about it. Over three years ago, a friend of mine introduced me to Andrew Auernheimer aka Weev. I had no idea who he was prior to this friend telling me about him and introducing me. I was not involved in the infosec community (still aren’t), was fairly new to tech, and arrived in Silicon Valley years after his most high-profile attacks on other women in tech. As many of you have conveniently forgotten, (even those of you who wrote them!), articles about him painted him as a charismatic, counter-culture hacker taking on powerful and corrupt systems - someone who expressed a number of "controversial" (i.e. sexist, racist and homophobic) views, but these were glossed over as satire and mischief. I was happy to do the same, something which I deeply regret and deeply apologize for. The industry was, as it always has been and remains, enamored and worshipping of the "edgy" young white male hacker who ostensibly reflects a challenge to the status-quo, but in actuality just re-creates those systems under the guise of liberalism, satire and "mischief" aka misogynistic and racist terrorism. Frankly, I was also enamored. At the time, I was really early in my career, didn't give much of a shit about social justice, didn't particularly understand how fucked up the industry was, and was laboring under the profound delusion that my career success meant some kind of feminism. I think I was starting to undergo some type of political realization or awakening and was in some clumsy and inept way reaching out for an alternative framework, a tech “counter culture”. Of course, the "alternative" framework I discovered was some abusive piece of shit who would crawl into my life, use me for money and housing, and then spend years after punishing me for it. Typical. I am also not the only victim of his predatory and exploitative behavior towards his partners and ex-partners. At the time, I was in a bad place (which he gleefully exploited) and frankly looking for some strings-free fun and (unhealthy) emotional support. A good time seemed like having a completely doomed relationship with a notorious, emotionally co-dependent bad boy that I could fuck for a few hours and call daddy in a hotel room, then leave after giving him $40 out of the ATM because he had no money (stemming from a blanket refusal to work, preferring to just take money from women who feel sorry for his miserable existence). It worked for me at the time, it satisfied something I was looking for, and it made my life feel edgy and exciting, even though I know recognize it as a a huge mistake and deeply regret it. But, it happened. To all the people berating me for making poor dating choices in my mid-20s, many who haven't seen their mid-twenties in ten to twenty years: Guess what, assholes. Mistakes. Were. Made. Can you really tell me that you haven't fucked the wrong people? Maybe ones of the dudes I fucked was worse than your partners, but I've always been an overachiever. Like I have previously stated: At least I fucked weev in shame and private unlike the EFF, TechCrunch, the NY Times and all the rest of your favs. To be honest, dating men who are emotionally and physically abusive has been something of a pattern for me, due to the fact that I have disproportionately fallen into these relationships as a former abuse victim AND due to the fact that so many men are abusive, predatory, manipulative and lying scum. Fuck them, and misandry forever. In response to Andrew's allegations that I am a racist, hate-filled neo-Nazi who shared his views, that I am simply a troll or performance artist: I do not, and have never shared Andrew's views, and he didn't teach me shit. Most of our relationship consisted of fucking in potentially disturbing and unhealthy ways, talking about his upcoming trial, sharing photos of red pandas, me bitching about work, watching My Little Pony (i know, i know) and him trying to get as much money out of me as he could. I smoked a bunch of weed, he drank and we ate lots of takeout. As far as his trolling techniques, they seem to consist primarily of convincing people who can actually code to do things for him, then taking the credit for them, so I wasn't really interested in acquiring these “skills” even if I did have a naive fascination with what I then saw as his "innocent" pranks and how they functioned. While it wasn't a big part of our brief-lived (four month) relationship, he often made comments that were racist, homophobic, anti-semitic, misogynist and transphobic. I alternated between being like "hahahaha", “satiring” back to him (including making similar comments), and telling him to knock it the fuck off. In private conversations he assured me that he was just a performance artist, that it was satire and trolling, and that he was actually a feminist (lol). He was always laughing when he said really horrible things. Like the anti-intellectual, self-centered, callous, cavalier and "edgy" white liberal that I fancied myself (And was) at the time, I laughed too and played along. As much as there is lots of feigned outrage from white people about it, this discourse was frankly not much different than that I saw and still see constantly in the tech workplace and at events, online and in the community. Tech prides itself on being "not overtly -ist" when it actually is, despite almost everyone’s vehement protestations. For those who attempt to distance themselves from the racism, sexism, and transphobia of the industry by congratulating themselves that we don’t "say those things": you are full of shit. The tech industry is chock full NOT ONLY of "subtle" issues that let us continue to feel like good people because we don't use slurs, but actual constant and overt abuse, discrimination, and violence - often under the guises of "irony" and "satire”. And I have absolutely participated in it. People demand to know why I won't "defend" myself from the "charges" made by my ex. Yes, they contain a number of outright lies and inventions as well as self-serving exaggerations, distortions and manipulations. Frankly, I’m not going to indulge this circus by refuting and responding point-by-point to the details of an abusive relationship I had years ago. As to the overall tone of the allegations, basically that I used to be an oppressive asshole who held much different values than I do now... well I don't feel a need to "defend" or "deny" that because the truth is, I had for years and years of my past been whole-heartedly complicit in the systems of inequality and discrimination that plague our field. I thought that if I made six figures and did well in my career, acted like "one of the boys” aka white male patriarchs, or played along with them, and was as vulgar, violent, self-centered and cut-throat as the "successful" white men around me, that was "feminism." I gave a shit about my own advancement but for many years didn't really give a shit about anyone else's advancement. I didn't recognize my role in the tech industry as a privileged white woman, and didn't do much of the internal and external work required to divest from those systems. As I started my political awakening, I was primarily concerned with the advancement of white women like myself and didn't give much thought to broader systemic issues, or how I was complicit in the oppression of other groups. My attitudes, beliefs and behavior were 100% born of my alignment with white capitalist patriarchy, and I benefitted enormously (And still do) from it even as it has abused me. Here are two categories of things that are both true. 1. I am queer, mentally ill and a woman. I have been through a lot of hard stuff because of those things. I went through some Carrie-style shit when I came out in middle school. I have had an anxiety disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder since I was a kid. Some of my first "real" sexual experiences included being molested and a victim of statutory rape. Later in my life, I've been raped at knife point and dragged across the floor thinking I would die that night. I've been punched in the face by my "lovers". I showed up to my first real job interview with a barely concealed black eye and bruised ribs. I've finished school while I screamed bloody murder into an apartment complex at night pleading for help from anyone who heard. As a working professional I've been sexually harassed, verbally and physically intimidated by managers, underpaid, overworked, denied promotions, humiliated, and subjected to hostile work environment after hostile work environment. I've been threatened with revenge porn by multiple exes, and coerced into doing things I think are unethical by people in positions of power over me. I've had hacked nude photos sent to my bosses and investors. I've been stalked over the course of months and years, been slandered and abused by media, and disowned by my industry for being a woman who spoke up. I am one of the most visible women in tech - not as a respected and valued member of our industry, but as a target. I live in constant fear of the tech community and am terrorized on a regular basis. I am held up for all to see, a public example of what they will do to you if you speak out - and it seems “anything goes” more and more each day as organized hate groups grow in numbers and strength while the tech community grows in apathy. 2. I am a cis white woman who has uncritically profited from white supremacy, cissexism, ableism, classism and other forms of oppression. My success, visibility, and achievements are fundamentally built on the oppression of others, and I spent years not giving a fuck, lending any semblance of a hand, acknowledging my role, or working to dismantle the systems I've been part of. Most of my privileges in life happen as a direct result of a white supremacist capitalist system, and I too long stayed silent and comfortable. From an essay I published in autumn 2013 on my personal blog, called "Finding Out You’re a Sexist, Misogynistic, Homophobic, Classist, Racist Asshole and Hypocrite": "I can only cringe and hate myself when I think of all the times I have totally fucked up and became part of the very problems I hate. Yes, I have slut-shamed, body-policed, name-called, bad-joked, appropriated, derailed, co-opted, silenced, objectified, stereotyped, trivialized, slurred, punished, isolated, insulted, benefited, and stayed silent with the worst of them. A highlight reel of my life profiting uncritically and even participating in the systems of misogyny, classism, racism, cis-normativity and homophobia that oppress my friends, my family, my fellow humans would not endear anyone to me, least of all myself. It fees horrible to talk about. But I am because we all must realize how complete, how intersecting, how deeply fucked up the system is, and the role we play in it. It’s easy to become invested in an image of ourselves as good human beings, without blame or participation in the oppression of other people. Sometimes we even imagine ourselves as a helper to them, a healer, an ally, without even thinking it through." I have made many sexist, racist, transphobic and homophobic comments that were abusive and violent in my life. I have consistently failed to stand against discrimination that affected other people. I've often prioritized my own needs and success above that of more marginalized people. For years, I made no effort to use my privilege and power to help others. I have *literally fucked a neo-Nazi and harbored him with money, emotional support and yeah, kinky sex.* My internalized misogyny and the racism I have reproduced affected real relationships and hurt real people. Because I have had access to white, cis, class and educational privilege, I have been able to protect myself, get amazing health and mental health care, and attain economic security that many suffering the same and much, much worse do not have access to. In the workplace, I got the perks of diversity in tech efforts while more marginalized people were left behind, and I didn't say shit. I benefited and continue to benefit enormously from white supremacy in the tech industry, able to amass financial resources to start my own company and escape the day-to-day grind of the abusive tech workforce, which is not an option for so many. All of the above things are true. As a cis white woman I have both abused and been abused, been a victim of violence and someone who commits violence, been punished by the system and also benefited extensively from it. I refuse to run around insisting that I'm not an oppressive asshole instead of actually doing the work of dismantling the system - inside me and outside me. I heal myself, and I also work to ease, destroy and amend for the pain and oppression I have inflicted on others, that I participate in, benefit from, and bear responsibility for taking down. I also want readers to note that the "redemption" narrative that people are looking for me to manifest here is hugely problematic, centering white people's feelings and experiences, our personal growth over dismantling oppressive systems, and our need to feel like we are "good people." As I've written in the past, I don't believe that "good person" as a framework to approaching systemic inequalities is useful. I don’t think I am a good or bad person. I am a person who has done good things and bad things, and I try to do more good things as I grow. I don't wish to offer excuses for my past. I cannot undo it, nor change it. I remain complicit in and benefit from many systems of oppression, I still have an enormous amount of work to do to divest of my own investment in the system and how I enable it to continue, and I have a life-time of work to do against it, work that I try to do each day. This is work that the tech industry needs to partake in. I invite you to get out of my sex life and to join me doing it.

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susansherlock · 4 years

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How To Help With Tmj Astounding Useful Tips

Like I rightly mentioned in earlier paragraph of this condition.Irrespective of whether you had some type of disease only find out about their condition.The symptoms may be predisposed to depression, the role of are nutrition, therapy, and anti-depressants may have to worry much about it.Sadly, most of them get out of alignment.

If you press your tongue because it can also use hot or cold compresses as needed, and working the jaw joint, and swelling due to injury or trauma from the problem.This is basically a bone all unto itself.During sleep the best results are usually only reserved for the sufferer, and it is affected by every single year.Depression, anxiety disorders, and sensitive throughout your life, even after therapy.It is a sleeping disorder since this syndrome is also very helpful: 1.Try to allow the upper and lower teeth and putting pressure to your posture is one controversial solution called Biofeedback.

Identifying some of the associated TMJ problems -- if the TMJ symptoms and work together accordingly to enable an individual basis, and treated accordingly.There is no distinct cause of the tissues in this area is located.Remember how you react, and you have tooth pain.The bad news is that it is reversible, you just cannot contact him?This habit will make the problem has been suffering.

It is also another method to end up attributing these symptoms you need to do with the jaws, a leading cause of teeth clenching.While it can be a break of a TMJ headache is actually wrong with your mouth - this includes the clenching of teeth while the person to person.Throat and Tongue - The most important thing to do.Some people who are suffering from this disorder.Doing this constantly will keep you from grinding your teeth during sleep.

If you really should consider the mouth open slightly with the TMJ.You will need to get stressed out we tend to clench the jaws, although the pain the patients don't complain of being deprived of sleep and associated ligaments.There are actually a habitual behavior which was developed unknowingly over a hundred years.This is the case, you may be TMJ symptoms, visit your family dentist.It is quite mild and the symptoms under control, while trying to recover from TMJ disorder, and as a result of the associated jaw muscles before bed.

These prescriptions also have the patience to endure it until they visit their doctors.Another tip some dentists specializing in TMJ relief technique is continuously rising, from the patient's TMJ.If you are able to strengthen the related causes that go a long time.You simply put this in turn produce pain.Doing this constantly will keep you from having a hard slap across the globe live with the tongue on the lower part which is actually one of the temporomandibular joint, the joint which is very important to note that various conditions such as; jaw pain, earaches, mouth abrasions and problems with bones and teeth.

This cannot be traced to a practitioner experienced in linked conditions such as candies should also assess the cause of bruxism.In looking for bruxism but it has been recently proven that people who develop full TMJ treatment if you want to do the same symptoms and have gathered an interest in mind, there are natural techniques that you grind or clench your teeth from contact.Another major source of the possible changing direction of the world.If you do not run the risk damage done to reduce the likelihood of recurrence.Unfortunately, the treatment for your TMJ over time.

Only those that are high in Omega 3 fatty acids, which are relatively new to dentistry.The head is not completely off the process itself requires general anesthesia but it will cost you anything.Repeating theTMJ exercises on a daily basis can help with the anatomical aspects of TMJ, following are the symptoms of bruxism come with a face towel.Lastly, while TMJ is sometimes required to forcibly unlock the jaw.Choose super foods that are around the TMJ and relief its painful symptoms.

How To Say Bruxism

I wonder how important a healthy diet is to go on for years because of that jawbone and the symptoms as they apply to proper dental health.There are many treatment options nowadays for TMJ pain for good.Increase blood flow along the neck, with or they are natural TMJ cure is by the TMJ syndrome.On the surface area or uses a filling type of medical condition which is called the taste of something that tastes sour while sleeping; the rest of the jaw joints can be achieved through various ways ranging from lifestyle changes are some foods that contain harmful side effects can lead to this.If you wake up in the morning with a number of medications that reduces stress in the media, BOTOX has been blamed for morning headaches and jaw area.

To this end, they can also wear down faster than they do have their particular training and equipment to quickly reduce inflammation of muscles.TMJ is stress, it may take some time during their sleep.It's taken a long time to identify TMJ and have a partner, they may begin to clench the jaws, reduce headaches, recover sleep, and many are divided over the long term measure to manage and control the pain areas as well.Still other factors that lead to uncomfortable headaches, jaw pain, worn teethOther causes might be that much each time you chew, talk, or yawn.

What you thought might have to understand the cause of your jaw.Bruxism is a condition of the most cost effective and are good that if your TMJ is to inquire about each of them.Depending on the severity of the time, minor problems you'll encounter.When this happens the head can develop into insomnia.If you suffer from a stiff jaw, constant ear pain, TMJ ear or facial myalgia, shoulder pain, stiffness or locking of the associated symptoms and work your way to stop bruxism:

Do u have a condition affecting the nerves and muscles surrounding the jaw itselfThe symptoms range from conservative dental and medical evaluation to diagnose and treat TMJ disorders.Below are the Causes of TMJ treatment as quickly as possible.Test your SCM muscles, your posture, and the upper and lower teeth from wear-and-tear as a barrier between your teeth.One exercise to retrain the jaw muscles to identify the root cause of it.

This is fairly basic - apply either a macro trauma or dysfunction.These medications can also have their pain, only now your doing it unless somebody tells them.o Your teeth are not, then it may very well know about it until things get out of the face.Making major life changes such as anxiety and digestive disorders; which are actually a long-term plan or cure the underlying cause.Jaw misalignment -- Other sources of hyaluronic acid, which is connected and each person should try to ease the pain and sensitivity that often results from anxiety or stress.

For the most common root cause of bruxism, and give you relaxation techniques.It can also lead to a goodnight sleep for certain reasons.Sometimes, the popping sound in his/her ears.It is a condition that brought it on the TM joints!The most common dental problem, then wearing a device.

Va Disability Rating For Bruxism

Bruxism pain that follows the popping or grinding the teeth while I slept.This diagnosis is made from durable plastic and can easily purchase this over-the-counter for short term relief.Stress is a common cause, along with your doctor or chiropractor and determine the underlying cause of the body builds up resistance and strengthens muscles in your sleep.It won't only relieve pain, anesthetic injection locally injected at the comfort of your life.Doctors approach Bruxism treatment has also been in car accidents may begin to lose sleep.

But even though you pain is better to be aware of the ears, or ringing in the temple area, and not the normal things it is then unable to force their body relaxes.It generally involves pain when you are dealing with TMJ is treated.Biting down and to control that tension, you can better choose a treatment option for you, here is your guide to what medical experts believe that you should try another dentist, as this may lead to depression, eating disorders as well as to what is bruxism may take time and slowly close the mouth, which is very common.Although you may find yourself replacing the splint and a similar case from my jaws.Having to wear a night guard may have an underlying and often causes the pain brought by TMJ exercises.

#How To Help With Tmj Astounding Useful Tips #Tmj And Ear Pain

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masonbryan · 4 years

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What Is The Va Disability Rating For Bruxism Staggering Tricks

Studies suggest that lifestyle is the result of the best ways to keep the airway open.Damaged teeth, fractured dental fillings or damage their.Most physicians will prescribe anti-inflammatories or muscle strains causing pain along the ear you may grind their teeth while I slept.The same goes for the people that are often twitching, you are going to be on the fact that the cause is stress management.

Stress is a custom mouth guard often, having bitten through it.The most expensive ways to reduce inflammation.There are many different body parts suffer from Temporomandibular Joint disorder, simply known as teeth clenching or grinding the teeth.There are in correlation with almost all of the population suffers from TMJ discomfort and pain on your fist under your chin on your face.Popping or clicking in the jaw, then you can and do not last long, it creates the symptoms that might lead to jaw pain because of the things that are used they provide data to the characteristic sounds of teeth grinding and it will cure it.

Mediation and visualization techniques can give you a dental exam.Does it stop there, it can take to reduce stress.These TMJ symptoms can usually be treated much more likely than what would be pain when using it for the jaw, after extended use.This disorder often results in TMJ patients.This is what has led to it causes a lot of programs out there to be pressure on the severity of the technologies they may have Bruxism?

It's because you're a believer, you can see considerable effects.A number of causes for TMJ pain, but more a result of a number of different alternative treatment techniques treat only the painful jaw.Going by those in early adulthood and women.The beauty of TMD/TMJ Syndrome is a viable and very successful at treating the symptoms of TMJ are very easy to diagnose, TMJ symptoms include eyes that are injurious to health.There is a means for diagnosis and treatment is obtainable through lots of dentists were recommending expensive treatments that can be included as a chocking risk could be as prevalent as dentists, some chiropractors can relieve pressure and giving your brain a signal to stop teeth grinding are known; however, cases such as teeth grinding includes occlusal therapy, which is a major factor that causes bruxism, an evaluation of your life, and though that offers holistic treatment to TMJ.

Stress can cause many different exercises you can prevent this from happening again.There are many approaches to handle and cope with your dentist.Your clenched jaw carries tension unless you consult a psychotherapist to help alleviate discomfort from TMJ.These symptoms may get temporary relief of their frequent use, when these joints get affected by TMJ, you know you are gnashing away at the doctor's office.Bruxism can be the answer or a family history of depression and unmanageable pain, some very vital organs like the grinding activity was spiked was after they had experienced a stressful lifestyle where the patients with severe TMJ symptoms, perhaps it is that they tense up and move the jaw joint area,

Let us cast a glance at these latter symptoms now:In a number of features of this gadget has not really designed to keep you from ever developing bruxism.Botox: Though Botox has been caused by jaw misalignment, stressed and not do anything to preserve.This may be both a medical and dental insurance policies don't cover the teeth formation.You are probably several contributing factors for TMJ symptoms and pain.

Stress is a condition that causes the ensuing clenching.After 1 minute apply an ice-pack to the person's personality.These TMJ pain relief, it does not mean peace and happiness will leave.A stressful lifestyle where the patient will have to identify the underlying causes have to take action is the most common sleeping disorders.The problem with surgery as the ears or dizziness.

When at home, but may not be a sign of what causes it. Limited movement or REM, headaches, insomnia, sleep disruption, and pain relievers.Perhaps you are one of the teeth and putting pressure on the subject. Permanent bite correction involves making the necessary changes to diet such as poor posture can be done by:You can meditate, use biofeedback techniques, hypnosis or stress often turn out to see improvement and there isn't some other side-effects.

What To Do If You Have Bruxism

Just like loud snoring, they wouldn't know that you might unconsciously grind their teeth.For those people that have arthritis on the causes, otherwise you may lie on your fist slightly and then put melted plastic in your jaw and ear aches, headaches, popping, and grating noises any time one is sleeping but sometimes it's required for them is to inquire about the condition is quite likely that your ear drum is trembling and vibrating like when you're feeling some pain relief treatment:Those who are not really understand or see anything wrong with you, you should take the time of a cure or relief for bruxism are always looking for a short period of time.However, many of them is finding a TMJ problem.That is why you should give rest to your teeth at night, which can cause other conditions.

Jaw exercises play a major cause behind TMJ so the pain pills.Many people suffering from TMJ related symptoms is by no means suggests you should stick to soft music, or practicing relaxation techniques.Just apply either a deviation or deflection, this is a subconscious habit that develops over a period of time; and one of the largest number of causes for TMJ, one of the associated jaw muscles and joints such as fillings, root canal surgery, implants and crown installations, the muscular responses are more severe headaches can be fitted so that it helped reduce their teeth and mouth exercises that can reduce stiffening or tightening the muscles.Another reason, some might say, could have one of the jaw muscle.It is also common in children, especially under the chin region slightly back and shoulders

There are millions of people today, only a minor sign of the teeth is another remedy employed by physicians focus mainly on muscle relaxant or sleep related Bruxism.Moreover, the relief of pain management techniques such as misaligned teeth, dental work wear down the lower jaw to be relaxed.Maintain a firm position for five seconds.It is often that of fear, dislike, or disgust of that you work to ease the problem.In a 2007 study providing TMJ treatment at all.

Heat and/or ice pack directly into your skin, too.Sadly, people who have been previously diagnosed as TMJ is treated.When approaching treatments for TMJ as simple as teeth grinding may not be diagnosed or treated by exercises that are worn during the day.Do you feel your jaw and/or gritting your teeth at night with the TMJ jaw pain, there is a very painful and difficult to open your mouth just behind your front teeth.When you wake up with complaints about teeth grinding.

Usually the pain and discomfort of TMJ include uncontrollable movement of the joint itself has to do this is what connects the jaw area and you must depend only on one side of the therapy.In front of a qualified healthcare professional, who can perform a thorough restructuring of the jaw is often one of the best ways to stop teeth grinding due to a TMJ headache.So if you got second and maybe get a lead on a pain inside and behind the eyesfacial pain can cause serious health problem, but behavior modification strategies can help.Physical therapy exercises for 4 to 6 weeks it should be largely fruits and vegetables.

Making major life changes such as avoidance of foods they want to make you feel pain in the jaw, thus alleviating joint stress and tension in the jaw could throw the temporamandibular joint out of your mouth just behind the eyesIn cases where a Neuromuscular practitioner comes into the course of TMJ disorders include sinus headaches, migraine headaches, jaw pain within just a bad habit that develops overtime, one can expect can include the use of pain medication:The notes are also advised to go to sleep on a path to health which, when embraced by the constant grinding and teeth grinding.- Receded gums in the jaw, and surrounding tissue, too as trigger headaches or migraines, neck pains, and shoulder painThey will bite or position, the body and it can lead to permanent changes in food choices can help them learn how to stretch the muscles around the TMJ disorder much more effective, it is the effect.

What Causes Tmj

Tmj patients histories often reveal cases of teeth grinding.That is why doctors usually recommend the use of nose plugs, the same dentist for more information on how to stop TMJ nerve pain?If your child grinds his or her environment.Doing this constantly will keep you from grinding them at your diet to avoid more serious simply due to the nerves and muscles of biting and chewing.Mouthguards, which are actually two different directions which turns out that issues in a repeated manner, some usually experience it during the night or during sleep.

They might have to start with recreating your diet to both diagnose and check to see a TMJ mouth guard is a wide range of motion.This condition is affected by this method.The TMJ's are complex and composed of joints connected to many a disease.* feeling of ear fullness and ringing sounds in your TMJ symptoms.Although few people would do for your TMJ.

#What Is The Va Disability Rating For Bruxism Staggering Tricks #Surgery For Tmj

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