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𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔬’𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔶 𝔟𝔞𝔟𝔶

@getosbunny / getosbunny.tumblr.com

tw: mental health issues and sexual assault mention.

hello.

so, posts like these are never easy to draft up or write and honestly i’m already mortified thinking about posting this.

recently, my life has taken a nosedive down and i’m making this post asking for help.

in december, my sister started displaying some mental health issues and while some of the symptoms weren’t anything i haven’t seen before (she’s dealt with major depressive episodes in the past), there were two days that spooked me to my core. she was curled up in the fetal position in the corner of her room, and didn’t recognize our family members. she thought we were strangers.

she was then put on a 5150 hold, and from then she voluntarily left to a group home. the diagnosis given was schizophrenia, and was given medication that to this day has given her neurological problems.

she has difficulty holding her phone, walking, talking and i can see she’s fighting with herself, desperate to just speak her mind.

unfortunately, at the group home- she was assaulted.

i would like to take a break and just breathe- because after reading all of that, and especially since it’s such a heavy subject; i know it can weigh heavy on someone’s heart and mind.

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something about play fighting with sae. more often than not, he isn’t phased by your attempts to provoke him. little pokes or prods, teases — they don’t get much out of him, other than perhaps a raised brow, if anything.

you can’t recall what you’d done this time that managed to get under his skin. you don’t think you’d really been trying, either.

warm and comfy in one of his stolen sweaters, you’d climbed onto the couch after a bath. you should’ve noticed something off, then. his eyes had fixated on you since you entered the room, arm flexing just a little tighter as he drew you into his side.

you mewl, coy and slippery. and somehow, for some reason, five minutes later, you’re caught under his weight. half-hearted kicks only get your legs pinned; your arms are next, stretched up above your head against the armrest.

“sae, no fair.”

he gazes down at you. his neutral expression hasn’t changed, but there’s an unspeakably keen glint in his eye as he watches you fuss under him.

“no?” he murmurs, a trace of mocking as he squeezes your wrists.

you twist and try new strategies. purposely arching in a way meant to entice and distract.

but he only slides his free hand under your sweater — his, really — and the thought makes his pinch to your supple side that much sweeter.

you make a protesting sound that provokes him better than you ever could’ve known.

“hush.”

“what—?” you start to demand in outrage, feigned to hide your delight.

but he swallows your voice, his lips finding your throat, and you finding the realization: to only start fights you can win.

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call him bubonic the way he plagues me

i think this stupid shit post will be my tumblr legacy if u need me i will be crying abt it

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Parents having more than one gay son is always so fucking funny to me like. Your mom is a faggot factory

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