Discover Top Posts Tagged with #drcarpenterinthehouse

Starter for @drcarpenterinthehouse —

"I don't know how to.." His voice fades off, shaky. Broken.

It's been weeks since he's been in sessions and nothing has changed. Did this shit actually work, or is Bucky putting up some sort of front?

He's scared to dive deeper in him. Scared it might come out, terrorize another innocent civilian.

".. h-how to describe, how it feels. The episodes." Bob continues, shifting on his chair. His gaze is fixated on his hands; leg shaking in an attempt to comfort himself.

"I've told you all I can, doc. I don't know what else you want me to say."

#starter.#drcarpenterinthehouse #(( yay !! therapy time ))#(( feel free to yap. just wanted to keep it short and we'll see how long it gets LMAO ))

"—And that's why it'd save us both a lot of time if you just made it up." Cherry pinches the bridge of her nose and huffs softly as she paces the room again. She won't sit down; it's the first step in admitting defeat. Her eyes dart toward Dr. Carpenter for only the briefest moment. It hits her how her words sound.

"Well—not 'make it up,' 'cause there's nothing wrong here, nothing to talk about, so it's not like you're lying, but...you get it." A roll of her eyes. "Don't need to mansplain your own job to you. Noted." She doesn't have to be a man to mansplain: it's a state of mind.

"Look, I—" She gestures to the wall with both hands. It's easier to face an invisible target. Her mouth opens, shuts, then opens again. "This isn't necessary. No other job requires this kinda psych eval. The last time I had to do this bullshit—" A hand flies to her neck. She tries to mask the motion by pretending she was merely going in to scratch her shoulder. "You think just 'cause I'm not the only one in here, I can't control myself? Like I'm some kind of incredible Hulk?"

Maybe her last job went a little haywire, but she brought it in at the end. They sent her to get results. Results were achieved. The how didn't matter nearly as much.

She pushes her hair back from her face. It's definitely getting hot in here. He has to be messing with the thermostat, increasing it little by little, to get some kind of confession out of her—because that was clearly in a therapist's job description. "Want me to sit down? That's what normal people do, right? That's how I..." Her fingers pinch and pull at the air, searching for words. "...Get the points?" She turns a slow circle on the spot, then sits where she stands, right on the floor. "Look at me, Doc. Sitting just for you. Tell me I'm good, and we can call it a day."

Only ten minutes have elapsed since she walked through the door.

session one with @drcarpenterinthehouse

#drcarpenterinthehouse #cherry — v. friend to call my own.#if this needs tweaking or anything needs clarification let me know!

ILLUMINATION: (The sender and receiver stand beneath the stars.) // Dr. Carpenter walks Bob through some grass touching grounding exercises? Starter for @drcarpenterinthehouse —

He actually didn't know that Valentina had put a rooftop garden in the watchtower, only finding out after his therapist mentioned it.

Grounding exercise, as Dr. Carpenter called it. Sounded like some L.A. hippie shit to him, but he needed an excuse to not be alone. Plus, it's a great excuse to see his doctor out of that room- Bob had never actually seen them anywhere else. Not weird at all. Sometimes he thinks he's a hallucination.

It also doesn't help the fact that Bob had become somewhat.. hyperfixated. Not on therapy (god forbid he craved something that was actually good for him), but by the man across the table. He found it strange how someone could know so much about how you work and you know absolutely nothing about them.

Like a sick, one-sided relationship. Bob thought it was a bit unfair- seeing this person so often and yet, they aren't considered as anything else apart from a professional weirdly analyzing how you behave and offering advice. Dystopian.

So he takes this moment to pester the smaller man with questions. Sitting underneath the night sky; his feet pressing over the neatly cut grass. It was cold that evening, but Bob ran hot, wearing one of his more loose shirts to get comfortable.

"So, doc- where are you from? Did you like.. apply for this job? Did Valentina get you specifically?" He rambles, breaking through the silence. "I heard you got Sloane too. She's.. something, right? Is there anyone else? Yelena? Bucky? Do you have superpowers? How much do you get paid-"

#asks.#starter.#drcarpenterinthehouse #(( im abt to explode ))

Closed starter for @drcarpenterinthehouse --

Great.

They're here too. That pasty fucking redhead and the nerds he calls his band. Everything about them just peeves him to the core- and the fact that they'll probably make finals alongside them is a terrible thought, to say the least.

Bob throws his lit cigarette on the concrete, dirty boots stepping on the flame to douse it. He watches them unload their dingy truck as his own mates chat at the back, with the brunette lighting another cigarette.

There's not enough cigarettes in the world to take the edge off of this shit.

Dark eyes cast over the redhead (Elijah, or something), his own face half-covered with smoke. Bob quietly wonders if they'll play a new song today- wonders if they'll win the judges over again with that stupid voice of his.

Out of sheer pettiness, the brunette tears off one of the newspapers they use to pad the floors of their van, crumpling it and throwing it over Elijah- Bob letting out a chuckle when it hits the smaller with a thwap.

#starter.#verse: band au.#drcarpenterinthehouse

Starter for @drcarpenterinthehouse --

Another gala.

Great. Bob doesn't even know why he has to go. He's not officially a part of the New Avengers, but Mel insists on his presence- and so do the others. He sighs and gives in eventually, knowing there's probably going to be really good catering.

This time, it's held at the Tower. Lucky for him, because his quarters would just be an elevator away; maybe he could pull an Irish goodbye once the programs have settled.

The past weeks have not been good.

An understatement, really.

He doesn't .. feel like anything. No void, no emotion. Just plain nothingness- and it's totally not because he's avoiding acknowledging how he truly feels.

Days were mostly spent in his quarters, really. Bob has taken extra liberties to avoid any social interaction; only really coming out to eat. Everyone in the tower knows not to bother him anyway, which he's actually quite grateful for.

So when he's forced to break the socialization streak with some pretentious formal event, Bob has to suck it up.

Good thing Yelena helped him find a suit (she was so good at those, surprisingly). It's.. nothing special. Too tailored and fitting to his body, a simple black blazer and slacks. The blonde decided to keep his look simple with a mere black tie, with Bob scrunching his nose as he adjusts the white button up's collar around his neck.

This makes him feel more naked than being naked. Blah.

Ava took charge of his hair. Used some airwrap device or whatever, to make it look 'less flat, more bouncy'- in her words.

So now Bob finds himself hugging the wall. Bucky wasn't around, a fellow wall-hugger, so he just feels that much more awkward. The brunette sips from his glass, beer spirits hopefully easing some tension off his shoulders, so he doesn't feel like a monkey ready to perform.

It doesn't take for him to notice a familliar redhead.

Ah. Of course he's invited.

His chest tightens. The last time he'd seen Elijah.. well. It wasn't the best. Bob had proceeded to avoid the problem, as always.

Somehow the doctor looked even prettier. Much more polished than how he looked at work; which Bob already absolutely adored. The green of his suit made his eyes stand out, as well as the fiery locks on his head- Bob tries not to ogle. He sighs and downs his drink, pulling himself to look away.

He tries to ignore the fact that he missed him, so, so much. Tries to push down all the emotions threatening to spill out of him at the mere sight of the man- coat now feeling a little too tight.

God, he should get out of here.

Maneuvering through the crowd was harder than expected. He keeps his dark eyes gazing on the floor as he does so, and manages to bump in to the exact person he wanted to avoid.

Fuck.

#starter.#drcarpenterinthehouse #(( ITS SO LONGGGG TFFF ))

@drcarpenterinthehouse continued from here —

Everyone else gets a 'bring Bob to work day'. For a long time, the good doctor wasn't exactly sure how to swing getting his own. It's not like he'd be able to sit on sessions or browse over notes; as much of a rule breaker as Elijah seems to be, he does have some standards. But when the schedule cleared and admin jobs piled up, he invited the brunette over. Something about help with heavy lifting, or something. He's in the middle of rotating his folders around when the door knock echoes through the unkempt space. On the third tap, the redhead is already unabashedly smiling. Bounding over to the handle, he's picturing it; his handsome Bob, goofy smile, baggy clothes, kind of tattered sneakers he's grown to love. But when the door swings open and their eyes meet, Elijah's mouth can't help but hang agape. Handsome Bob. His Bob. Somehow, handsomer. He stands there blinking, double taking at the dress shoes and slacks—clothes so tidy they're almost putting his button-up and cardigan combo to shame. Elijah's lips smack together, fingers tapping against the wood until he can finally produce a thought. "Uh, hi. Hello. Welcome?" The heavy floundering is followed by a swallow as he guides Bob inside. Elijah's thin fingers hastily remove his glasses from his eyes, rubbing at the lenses with the sleeve of his cardigan. "You look... wow. Think you look like a better fit for this office than I do right now."

"Hey, I'm looking for a.. Dr. Carpenter?" Bob flashes a boyish, flustered smile- immediately noticing Elijah's reaction. He chuckles and leans on the doorframe; resting his forehead on it as if to hide his flushed cheeks. It doesn't work.

When the doctor invites him in, Bob closes the door behind him and nervously tries to flatten his button-up- despite it having visually no wrinkles whatsoever. Creature of habit, because he barely irons his clothes normally.

"C'mon, doc.. don't flatter me," he gently cups Elijah's cheeks, leaning down enough to plant a kiss on their forehead. "Feels weird wearing this. Only worn business casual to interviews, but I wanted to surprise you. Match your vibe or whatever."

Bob pulls back enough to drink the redhead in, smile yet to fade away from his face. "Missed you."

#replies.#drcarpenterinthehouse #(( they r so important 2 me. ))#(( additional tag: take your bob to work day ))#(( if anyone is curious he looks like calvin from lessons w chemistry but w longer hair. thanks ))

Starter for @drcarpenterinthehouse —

It's been what, 3 weeks?

Granted, this has been one of the worst months of his life- or, well.. close to it. Nothing beats being on the streets.

But it's a whole lot of self-loathing in such a short amount of time. Bob keeps repeating that night over and over- the surreality of it all, overstepping boundariea that his doctor might have not wanted to.

Always making things worse.

He might've actually a therapist that would be able to handle the severity of his emotions. Someone who truly understood- who treated him with kindness instead of something fake and plastic and medical.

Always making things worse.

Bob can't even sleep. His meals are subpar at best- more akin to snacking, really. He shouldn't have pushed them. He shouldn't have broken that wall-

That's how he finds himself infront of Dr. Carpenter's apartment on a random fucking Tuesday morning. He's a mess (he always is anyway), old cardigan and sweatpants with sneakers that he's had for over a decade.

(He totally didn't look him up on the database. Fished around for classified info, swiped some random agent's access card. None of those bad decisions.)

Bob tries to make himself presentable enough, straightening out a bit of the crumples on his shirt, and rings the doorbell.

#(( not creepy btw. normal human being ))#starter.#drcarpenterinthehouse

Pop (goes my heart) — in which the new OXE therapist catches someone's eye @drcarpenterinthehouse // DN reblog if we're not mutuals!

#ooc: art.#elijah.#visuals.#drcarpenterinthehouse #(( no one steal this kthx . luv u all ))#(( shippers can reblog. thx . KJNASFJKFASNJKASFNJKASFNJKASFNKJ I KNOW WHO U GUYS ARE ))