#‘ der mond ist aufgegangen ‘ - childhood.

[mcmorare]

♡ + childhood

send ♡ + a word and i'll give you a headcanon

katrina doesn't like to dwell on her childhood.

if you ask her, you'll get a very non-detailed, likely jaded-sounding response, maybe even with a hint of cynic humor to it. but nothing deep. nothing detailed. if pressed, the answers will stay confined to vague statements and inconsequential details, dodging anything of real meaning or substance. it isn't something she spends much time thinking about, purposefully. talking about it is far more difficult. and besides, why would she give people information that could be used against her? (revealing things has led to a knife in the back before. it's best to be careful.) she only has one picture from her childhood, and it sits in the bottom of her nightstand drawer, hidden.

it's often only with the people that she's the absolute closest to that she'll allow herself to really contemplate it at all. in the presence of someone safe, someone who she can truly trust not to give her jugement or pity. she hates feeling pitied. but with those few trusted people at her side, the shame and hurt of the past doesn't feel as all-consuming. she has a light to guide her through that dark.

[fullofmemories]

Growing up, Christmas wasn’t always the most fun of times for Katrina. It meant seeing her entire family, having to spend time with all of them, having to deal with their judgement. But, she tried to make the best of it.

Around Christmastime her and her friends would go to the Christkindlmärkte and have fun. The best one was always in Vienna, when they could go. She looked forward to it every year - warm drinks, cute crafts, sweets, laughter and music and snow. Away from the stress of home.

When she did see her family, she would try to avoid most of the adults. A lot of her time was spent with her cousins, some of whom held a bit of the same frustration at their family’s strictness. It could still be a bit tense, but it was a bit of a comfort to know she wasn’t completely alone in her thoughts. 

When she was very little, she spent most of the family time glued to her grandfather’s side. He would tell her stories and play games with her, and sneak her cookies under the table when her mother wasn’t looking. It was after he passed that she started avoiding the adults much more. 

Now, that’s not to say her holidays were perfect. They were often still a time of stress, especially due to the fact that her mother was often more stressed around this time of year and so she was more irritable. But there were some bits of happiness among it all.

As an adult, she’s come to make much more happy memories of the holidays. Spending Christmas with Ariane and Reina and Julien and Evelin. Getting to spend pleasant time with her brother, exchanging gifts with her friends, baking cookies with her niece. Making it into a time of laughter instead of stress. And, eventually, she even started to look forward to the holidays.

[mcmorare]

sometimes i just think about 15 year old recently-outed katrina discovering riot grrrl music and specifically hearing rebel girl and the line "they say she's a dyke, but i know / she is, my best friend" and having that little bit of proof that the world is not just her small town and there are people who will accept her

[mcmorare]

something something people throughout katrina's childhood telling her they wanted to help her before trying to change her and hurt her. over and over again feeling pain accompanied by being told that they want the best for her. they want her to be the best version of herself. this is to help her. the association between "helping" and being subtly told that there is something wrong with her, there is something bad about her and it needs to be changed even if it hurts, even if she doesn't want it to happen. it hurts now but this is to help you. we're trying to help you. and this making her instinctually distrustful of any future attempts to do so

[mcmorare]

one of the major sources of resentment between katrina and julien growing up was their opposing traits. in all the ways katrina was seen as too masculine, julien was seen as too feminine. if it had been julien who was outgoing, feisty, independent, stubborn, it would be something their parents would have looked upon fondly instead of scolded. if katrina had been the one who was quiet, thoughtful, nurturing, attentive, it wouldn't have been a problem to work on. but that wasn't who they were. sometimes they wished it was - it seemed to come so easily to the other. the traits their parents wanted were there; just not in the places they wanted them. and that, to them, was somehow worse than not having them at all.

[mcmorare]

Although she honed her skill through training in HYDRA and SHIELD, the first person to teach Katrina to shoot was her grandfather.

He was definitely an outdoorsy type, and the only member of the family who didn't seem to mind her more tomboyish ways. Despite protest from her mother, whenever her back was turned he would teach Katrina little things, shrugging it off with a little conspiratorial wink whenever they were caught. How to bait a fishing line. How to tie different knots. He never let her try it out herself, but he would let her watch and explain to her as he carved little trinkets out of wood. The time he let her shoot his pellet rifle, her mother was livid. It was just two shots, just at a beer bottle in his backyard, not even shooting real bullets, nobody got hurt. Then again, she was definitely too young to be handling a gun of any kind even with supervision, but Katrina didn't care. For once, she didn't even mind sitting through her mother's frustration. It was worth it to get to do something fun, to have someone in her family not shy away from that side of her. She treasured that memory.

[mcmorare]

Growing up, there was one member of her family that Katrina liked. One.

Her grandfather’s name was Markus, and at every family gathering he always had the brightest smile in the room. He gave big warm hugs, and he had a loud laugh. Katrina would sit on his lap and listen as he told her fantastical stories of dragon-slayers and devils and sirens and witches and kingdoms. Whenever her mother scolded her for running off or getting dirt on her clothes or causing trouble or doing this or that, he would always tell her to “back off, let her be a kid for a bit” and give Katrina a conspiratorial wink. He was her favorite.

He passed away when Katrina was ten, old enough to remember but still not fully conscious of the world. Not fully conscious of herself.

Through the years, Katrina has found herself wondering many times if he would have accepted her now, as she is. If something along the way would have been the last straw for him just as it was for everyone else. He was her favorite. But he was still a part of that family. Still raised with them, laughed with them, kept in touch with them. Would he have still loved her today?

Sometimes she thinks it’s better not to ask. 

[mcmorare]

What were birthdays like for them as a kid? Are they the kind of person to celebrate their “birth-week” or “birth-month”? What do they like to do for their birthday? Do they remember their friends/loved ones’ birthdays? Talk about the day they were born.

birthday headcanons

What were birthdays like for them as a kid? For Katrina, childhood birthdays were largely something to dread. It meant a day of gathering her family all in one place, which inevitably always made her mother more uptight and irritable on the day of and few days beforehand. It meant being stuck for hours with a group of people who she felt she didn't belong with, who publicly denounced things that she loved. The one thing she did look forward to was the day after, taking the first opportunity she had to get out of the house and have a mini-celebration in the woods behind her house with her friends.

Are they the kind of person to celebrate their “birth-week” or “birth-month”? Not really! She tends not to make much of a big deal out of her birthday - a lot of the time, she doesn't even bring it up. She tends not to celebrate too extravagantly on the day, let alone the whole week or month.

What do they like to do for their birthday? She tends to keep it pretty lowkey. If she has the day off from work she'll probably spend the day out hiking somewhere, taking some time out among the trees. In the evening she'll turn on a good show or movie and relax a bit. And, it's a tradition of hers to have a slice of Sachertorte for dessert on her birthday. One day around the date she'll get together with Ariane, Julien, Evelin, and Reina for a little party, but it won't be anything big.

Do they remember their friends/loved ones’ birthdays? Yep! That's one time her perfect memory comes in handy, if she ever learns someone's birthday she'll never forget it. And, she's great at gift-giving because she always remembers those little things they mention liking/wanting.

Talk about the day they were born. The day Katrina was born, it was overcast. They hadn't been expecting rain until the next day, but the wind had other plans. Julien sat silently in the backseat as his parents drove to the nearest hospital. Kept waiting quietly in the halls of the hospital as they waited. None of them said much, really, until her grandparents arrived and the conversation finally started to flow. When she was finally born, there were smiles. Maybe not all overjoyed, but at least hopeful. This was their only daughter, after all. A little baby girl. Girls were cute. Easy. Girls got little dresses and dolls and didn't get as scuffed up and dirty. Little did they know just how different their expectations would be from reality.

[mcmorare]

tell me about katrina's first crush !!

going insane send me things

growing up, katrina sometimes wondered if she was a bit slow to start getting crushes compared to some of the other kids - the other girls would giggle and whisper in each other's ears about crushes or the fact that a certain boy apparently liked a certain girl, and she would just feel vaguely out of place. but her first crush came when she was 9. a girl who sat next to her in two classes (history and math), mathilde. she was quiet but not shy, and would lean over to help explain some of the problems on the worksheets to katrina without making her feel like she was stupid for needing help. she had a sweet smile that she would give whenever katrina finally got one of the questions right. she had hazel eyes, dark hair, a few freckles. she would draw little doodles on the margins of her paper while the teacher was talking. katrina felt at once that weird, almost intimidated feeling she was starting to know even then around people so naturally smart, naturally kind, but her cheeks would go a little red whenever mathilde smiled and said she'd done well.

[mcmorare]

♡ + summer

send ♡ + a word and i'll give you a headcanon

growing up, katrina had mixed feelings about the summer. she and her brother did have nine weeks of summer break every year starting in early june, when the weather was the hottest. even though she didn't enjoy school, it was a place to be, there were people she could talk to and her small number of friends to joke around with, things to keep her busy (even if she didn't enjoy them). during the summer, she was at home much more often - a place she often just felt uncomfortable. there was some luck in the fact that her mother and father still worked during the summer (if anything, her mother worked a bit more, having more children coming to the daycare now that school is out and their parents need someone to watch them) so there were days the house would be almost empty for hours. but even empty, that foreboding presence was still there, like any moment she would look back over her shoulder and her mother would be standing there, disappointed.

on the other hand, it meant much more time to spend out in the woods and on the school's unkempt definition of a field to kick the ball around on. her and ariane and a few other friends would spend hours riding bikes around town, exploring the woods, coming home in the late afternoon dirt-stained and sunkissed. when she was young and they would visit her grandparents, she would spend time outdoors with her grandpa, and her grandma would make holunderblütensirup every year. some days she would take a little box of blackberries with her as a snack and just go lay in the woods in the sunlight. for a moment, there was a feeling like peace.

[mcmorare]

as a child, one of katrina's favorite places in the world was the room in her grandparents' house where her grandpa did his woodworking (and kept most of his hunting stuff). old photographs, signs, postcards, and more covered the wall above the bench where he would sit and whittle, all his supplies having their particular drawers and shelves but still often ending up just a bit cluttered regardless. many times he would pull up a stool next to the bench for her to sit on - she could have spent hours and hours sitting on that stool, watching him work, listening intently as he explained what he was doing or told her stories. that room was always cozy and welcoming to her; one of the few locations in her childhood with only good memories.

[mcmorare]

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

details about ocs!

Katrina was born in the closest available hospital to the town she grew up in. It was an overcast day, a quiet day. It's a place she's never really been back to since, so in terms of how she feels about her birthplace, she doesn't really feel any particularly strong way about it. When it comes to her hometown, however, she has very complicated feelings.

She still lives relatively close to it in the sense that it's only a few hours' drive away, but it's a place she hasn't been back to since she was 16 and never intends to visit again. It's strange - the woods outside her house growing up are still one of her favorite places in the world. Her tree-filled sanctuary, where she could be as much herself as she wanted without worry. If she could preserve and go back to just that one part, she would. But the town itself is full of bad memories of judgement and hurt, still full of those same people, and it's a place she never wants to visit again. Sometimes in nightmares she is still there, still a scared little girl. She'd rather not find out if she'd actually feel like that walking through those roads again.

[mcmorare]

On one of many evenings which answered the question, “what happens when you leave a bunch of ultra-repressed kids of strict religious families alone,” Katrina wove through the crowd of rowdy teens, partially-drunk bottle in hand. Honestly, this probably wasn’t anywhere close to a good idea. She’d told Ariane she wasn’t going out tonight. But she didn’t fucking care. She was too angry to care.

The moment her eyes locked on him from across the room, any bit of restraint went out the window. 

“Hey, liar!” she shouted, storming up to him. The bottle was tossed aside with little care for where it landed.

As Isaak turned and looked at her, taking in her slightly intoxicated, furious state, a smile of faux sympathy crossed his face. “Oh, Katrina. Don’t tell me you’re taking the breakup this hard.” 

She had half a mind to kick his fucking head in. “Shut the fuck up. What the fuck did I ever do to you? Why have you been such an asshole about all of this?” 

“Breaking up with you doesn’t make me an asshole, babe.���

“Don’t fucking call me that!” She stepped forward, rage etched into her expression. “And I broke up with you. After what you fucking did to me. Piece of shit.” 

The most infuriating part was that self-satisfied smile that wouldn't leave his face. “It’s your word against mine. And you’re drunk. You’re not remembering right.” 

“I’m remembering perfectly fucking clearly,” she said, voice shaking with anger. “And you told everyone a lie, you fucking jackass.” Not only that, but he’d told half the truth too - the half that put her in the most danger. 

“I didn’t lie, Katrina. Not my fault you don’t want to accept what happened.” He shrugged, leaning back. “Why would I lie?” 

She could think of a few reasons, but ultimately she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he had fucking done it. He had done it and he had made her life hell and she wanted to return the favor.

She stepped forward and raised her fist, but before she could get a punch in, a pair of arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her back. Ariane. 

“Fucking let me punch him!” she yelled, struggling to break away - but Ariane wouldn’t let go. Isaak watched, smirking. Almost laughing. The amount of rage she felt was like her heart could burn a hole in her chest. 

For a moment he opened his mouth to speak, but Ariane quickly cut him off. “You’d better fucking watch it or I’ll let her at you and then go in for seconds myself.” She started to guide Katrina away. “You’re a pathetic waste of space shitbag and I hope you burn in the deepest pits of hell, Isaak. You’d better watch your fucking back.” 

Once they started walking away, Katrina didn’t look back. Just let Ariane’s arm around her shoulders guide her until the sounds of the chatter died out, and they were out in the trees on their own. 

“What were you doing there?” she finally asked, eyes still fixed on the ground. 

“I had a feeling you might try to do something stupid. Thought I should try and keep you from digging an even deeper hole for yourself,” Ariane said. Her tone was almost exasperated - but not quite, it was still too gentle for that. Just… tired, perhaps. She didn’t ask why Katrina had done it. Didn’t need to; she already understood. As much as it pained her to see. 

“Think you can get back in your room without too much trouble, or is it worth the shit to just say you snuck out to have a sleepover at my place?” she asked. 

Katrina shrugged. The chances of her getting away with this without her parents’ anger were slim. She was tired. And angry. And hurt. Part of her just didn’t care anymore. It was shit, it is shit, and it will continue to be shit. Maybe that was her punishment, she supposed. Penance for sins and all that. It took a moment before she noticed the tears on her cheeks. Her footsteps faltered and stopped. 

“Trina?” The moment Ariane looked back at her, her arms were wrapping around her in a hug. ���I’m sorry, Trina.” 

“I can’t go back there.” Katrina’s voice was trembling and barely audible. “That house is killing me. This fucking town is killing me, Ari. I have to get out of here.” 

“I know.” It took all of Ariane’s self control not to start tearing up alongside her. “We’re going to get out of here. Just a little while longer, and then it’ll be you, me, and Vienna.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” Katrina’s hands shook against Ariane’s back. “I can’t take it. I’m gonna fucking die here if I don’t get out soon. I can feel it. I’m going to fucking die here and then I’m gonna go to hell and then hell is just going to be me stuck in this stupid fucking town forever and it’s never going to end I’m never getting out of here-” 

“Hey. No.” Ariane pulled away slightly to look her in the eyes, her hands on Katrina’s shoulders. “You are not fucking dying here, Katrina. I’m not letting that happen.” Logically, there wasn’t much Ariane could really do - there were too many variables out of her control. But she still said the words with utter conviction. “You are going to get out of here. Okay?”

Katrina opened her mouth to speak, but all words failed her. Instead, she just nodded quietly. Hoping Ariane was right. 

“Alright. Now, you need sleep. We do have a match tomorrow, idiot,” Ariane pointed out with a small smile. 

Despite herself, Katrina smiled back. “Yeah, yeah. You know I’ll be there.” 

“You fucking better be. Come on.” 

[mcmorare]

bold all that apply to your muse , memories of my childhood edition… tw, contains mentions of abuse / neglect / death / trauma . remember to repost, not reblog!

scraped knees,  silent tears in a locked room,  slamming doors,  pervasive loneliness,  a dog barking,  rain on a metal roof,  flinching at movement,  the creak of an old house,  forced laughter,  wandering in the dark woods,  wondering how you made it through,  sudden loss,  trying to make sense of the noise,  hiding what you love to protect it,  trying to explain but your words falter,  invaded privacy,  confusion at the pain,  running barefoot in the grass,  wondering what you did wrong and coming up with nothing,  realizing you aren’t a priority,   grass stains on white clothing,  trying to earn love you will never have,  being threatened over the smallest mistake,  secrets you are warned not to share,  the feeling of never being good enough,  the hope things might someday get better,  grief that aches in your bones,  childish dares and pranks,  the sense that your body isn’t yours,  shame and guilt that aren’t yours to carry,  sledding down a frozen hill,  absentmindedly following snakes through the grass,  punching a tree until your knuckles bleed,  tears over every dead creature you find,  searching out small places you can hide… just in case,  climbing the tallest tree so they can’t touch you,  the feeling of something tainted under your skin,  a curious child told to stop asking,  floral dresses,  body tensing at approaching footsteps,  anger with nowhere to go,  brief escapes from the chaos,  the purr of a contented cat,  taking the blame to keep the peace,  being told you’re too sensitive,  the creaking springs of a trampoline on a sunny day

[mcmorare]

Katrina was 14 when she got into her first relationship. His name was Isaak Fischer, and he was 16. Forwards of the girls’ and boys’ football teams, sharp senses of humor, troublemakers. To her, it seemed like a perfect match. He was polite enough in front of the adults that her parents’ permission wasn’t a problem. He would walk home with her from school every afternoon. He complimented her looks. He wasn’t a genius, but he was smart enough. He knew all the best ways to sneak around, he complained with her about their shitty little town and he whispered teasing jokes in her ear about the people in it. He said he loved her. She said she loved him. She believed them both. 

Maybe it was that belief that kept her from doing anything about the flaws. Or maybe she just truly didn’t see them. How his humor wasn’t just mocking, it could get almost callous. How his compliments sometimes made her uncomfortable. How often he got her into trouble. How he took up every conversation, never really listening to what she had to say. His inflexibility, how different he acted in front of adults, his lack of accountability, the fact that alcohol made him angrier. Maybe it was her own anger that blinded her to that. But she was young. She was, truth be told, still a bit naïve. She’d never had anyone care for her in that way. So when he said he loved her, she believed it. She wanted to believe it. 

It was only his assault that finally forced her eyes open, and afterwards she felt foolish for not realizing it sooner. She was angry. She was hurt. She had told someone she loved, someone who said they loved her, something that she had initially been afraid to admit even to herself. And in turn, he had hurt her in a way that even her upbringing taught was unforgivable. She didn’t understand. Didn’t understand whether or not he loved her, why he would do that to her, why anyone would do it in the first place. 

It was her first experience with love. And it hurt. Bad. She didn’t think love was supposed to hurt. In the movies, they all seemed so happy. But her parents had never been like that. And he had told her he loved her. He had promised. They all said they did these things because they loved her. They wanted to help her. But it didn’t feel like people said it would. Love had only ever hurt, for her. If it was even love at all. It seemed more like people used love as an excuse. A way to get away with things they wouldn't with other people. A way to justify things that were wrong. 

Did she still want the kind of love that people talked about? Yes. But after that, she wasn’t sure she could trust it.