#I get so uncomfortable and getting like 'flashbacks' but not in a traumatic way

[blutprinz]

why is fucking NO ONE EVER RESPECTING MY BOUNDARIES

[alchemiclee]

i know this has been said 473773474833 times by the kavetham/haikaveh shippers and probably even nonshippers, but i'll say it again. I finally finished the genshin summer event and did the little after quest in sumeru and.....every time kaveh is sneaking around trying not to be noticed coming out of alhaithams house it's just such a gay vibe. he's basically screaming "I can't be caught being gay in a homophobic society!" even if that's not what the game writers are *actually* saying. that's just how it comes off and they can't make it come off any other way. with hoyo's gay history, it makes me wonder if it's on purpose and all a cover-up to have a technically different reason for it so they can get away with it lmao but we will never know.

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[plaidos]

Reading all these posts and info from people discussing their own experience made me want to talk about mine (2 different experiences)

I dated a trans man for 5 years and it was the most emotionally and verbally abusive relationship I ever had. I was sexually victimized and yelled at regularly by him and in the vicinity of others, but nobody ever did anything to help me or protect me. Most every other person in our social lives drafted me into being a loyal caregiver/crisis manager because I "should be empathetic for his experience" because he had a narcissistic mom and uncontrolled BPD symptoms and because I was the person he let get closest. His "off glances" from strangers at the grocery store would trigger massive meltdowns where he'd more or less force me to mother him through his anger, but whenever I'd express that I felt dysphoric or unwelcome or fawned over in weird ways, especially in places that were dominated by AFAB experiences he would belittle and gaslight my feelings and claim I was "too sensitive" and trans men had it just as hard.

My experiences and my trauma were second to his, he demonized and shamed me for enjoying aspects of ageplay in kink because he was mortified that it would reflect badly on him would it come out that he was dating a nasty age player (even tho when he wanted to he would get what he wanted out of the kink himself).

When I finally had enough and broke it off he spread rumors about me to mutual friends that I was sexually victimizing him and that I had "tricked" him into a threesome with a mutual friend (surprise surprise the guy who coercively raped me is lying about sexual experiences).

(1/2)

(continuation of prev ask) This one would be way too long if I didn't make it short so. I polyamorously dated an AFAB agender lesbian for two years who tongue-in-cheek claimed to be "a chaser" because they "identified so strongly with the trans female experience". Even though we were dating, they would act disgusted or put off any time I would make a (gentle) move on them, even if it was something as simple as holding hands, and claim I was "moving too fast"; but then would turn around and come on to me so strong out of nowhere and basically expect me to snap to with no warning. Emotional intimacy too, was treated this way. I am not a massively romantic person, but even when I tried to seek out platonic kinds of comfort in them they would insult me for it. They identified as transmasc/GNC, but whenever it benefitted them, they would slip back into gender-conforming femininity like a comforting shroud while diminishing or dismissing my own experiences of gender or of feeling uncomfortable around their friends (all cisgender straight people lmao). Whenever I experienced traumatic flashbacks or needed support from them, they would criticize me for being "too needy". When we were in public they would get angry if I acted like we were together even in minor implications (like "oh we did that together" type language). When I expressed that I was annoyed that they repeatedly refused to communicate with me and routinely prioritized shitty cisgender men in their life (one who was an ACTUAL pedophile I learned) they would roast me via 10s of paragraphs in text of how "emotionally immature" I was and how I was acting "entitled to certain treatment from them". There was no love, there was no acknowledgement of my pain and my history, there was no acceptance of my femininity as a part of myself. I felt like I was treated like a toy. I felt like I was treated like a woman only nominally, and then I was treated like an intruder or a rabid animal when it suited their narrative. (2/2)

anon, this rings so true with my experiences dating similar people. i am so sorry that this happened to you, and that it it a common trend within transfems' dating experiences. the majority of my transfem friends who have dated TME people within the community have expressed similar experiences, and i have similar experiences too, like being coerced into topping/domming because that's what they "expect" from a 6ft tranny.

I'm so sorry.

to the TME people of the trans community: do better. this is not a coincidence, this is happening to trans women all across the trans community all the time. it could be happening to your friends, and you haven't realised it because of how normalised it is. you could even be treating YOUR transfem girlfriend this way.

it needs to stop.

[mmhcs]

Not Tonight

Warnings: Slightly suggestive opening, implications and mentions of trauma and traumatic events, implications of flashbacks, descriptions that may be uncomfortable, reader needs a hug (and therapy)

Finally.

You sigh, hooking your arms around Miguel’s neck.

Finally, it’s happening.

After a week of barely seeing each other, you and Miguel finally have a night to yourselves.

Originally, you had planned to spend your Friday evening alone on the couch, catching up on the new season of that TV show you religiously kept up with.

Miguel didn’t watch it (he only loosely followed along during those times that you two had watched it together) but you still couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the fact that tonight you would follow the show's plot from beginning to end without distraction, less-than-stellar remarks, or need for explanation every two seconds.

Well, at least I get to watch, you had told yourself as you settled onto the couch.

It wasn’t a perfect evening, but it would be a fun one. You only hoped that Miguel, probably still in his office, wasn’t overworking himself. Hopefully Lyla was there to bring some playfulness into the otherwise sterile environment that he would submerge himself well into next morning.

If only he was here.

You relaxed into the couch, bringing your blanket up as the theme song to your show began playing. Within a few seconds were immersed, but clearly not fully so as you jumped when you heard your front door open and the sound of keys jangling.

“Miguel?” you called, both excited and in disbelief.

Nobody else had a key to your apartment but you still had to see him to believe that it was true.

“¡Cariño!” Miguel replied, coming into view.

Before you had the chance, he, in two wide strides, walked over to the couch and scooped you into a hug.

“What are you—”

“I took the night off; I missed you.”

“Took the night off” was a generous term. Miguel had no boss; he was his own superior. His “staying late at the office” was because Miguel felt it necessary, that if he didn’t then something would happen and the “Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse” (as he called it) would collapse.

Since the two of you started dating, Miguel had gotten better at taking breaks. But you knew that you alone couldn’t bring him to ultimate healing—just like he couldn’t do the same for you.

But the two of you tried. Tried to work through you issues, not only for the other but for your respective selves. Which is why hearing Miguel say that he took the night off because he missed you made your stomach flutter with butterflies and an ache start to pool in its center.

Needless to say, you and Miguel didn’t make it past the ending of the theme song.

And that’s how you two ended up here: on your shared bed, you in Miguel’s lap and his mouth dragging itself against your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your neck, eliciting a sharp moan from you. Your hands flew from his neck to his hair, pulling at it as if it were a life raft, your only way to keep yourself from falling back onto the bed.

Not yet.

“Yes, Miguel,” Your breath hitches as he begins to suck on your neck, concentrating on the spot between your neck and shoulder. “I like that,”

He gives a moan of response, his mouth still on your neck.

Almost unconsciously, your head tilts itself to the side in order to give him more room to work.

“Like that,” you cry out once more. “Likethatlikethatlikethatlike—”

I don’t like that.

You look down, feeling newfound warmth at your side—Miguel’s hand kneading just above your hip.

Focus. Breathe. you tell yourself.

But it’s too late; you can feel the ache in center fading and being replaced with fear and disgust.

In an attempt to preserve your arousal, you gently place a hand at the back of Miguel’s head—as if to tell him to keep going—but it’s no use. What was just been considered hot, tantalizing kisses is now just slobber, each one further cementing that cold and hollow feeling into you.

Just one night. That was all you wanted. Just one night where you could enjoy yourself and Miguel’s company.

“Baby?”

You jump, startled. Slowly, you blink once, returning your attention to the moment. When you look down, you see that Miguel’s gaze is already on you, wide eyes and furrowed brows.

You frown. How long had you been staring at the wall?

“Hey, quierda,” Miguel begins gently. He readjusts himself to his full height, also slightly shifting you so that you now reside on his thigh instead of his lap. He removes his hands from where they had previously been and uses one to cup your cheek and lift your head to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Miguel, I...” you start but you don’t know how to finish.

What do you say? What can you say? How do you begin to explain how you feel? That yes, you want him but you just couldn’t get your mind to settle down. That parts of you are still stuck in a time way before this and couldn’t seem to move on?

“I’m sorry,” you say, gently removing his hands from your face. “I just don’t feel—” you pause, taking a deep breath. Your emotions are all over the place; the last thing you need right now is tears. “—Not tonight, Miguel. Not tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Miguel wastes no time answering. “Are you hurt?”

His eyes immediately start looking you over for cuts and scratches that would need to be tended to.

In the past, you’ve discussed some of your trauma with Miguel. He didn’t know the full story—he didn’t need to—but ever since that first time you informed him, he swore that he would do whatever he could to alleviate some of your pain.

He couldn’t take it away—he knew that for a fact—but he could be there for you. Which is why he’s running through his mind now, thinking of the best way to help.

“How about a shower, yeah?” he finally suggests. “You take a shower and I’ll make dinner.”

You sigh and bite down on your lip, trying to steel yourself.

Though you and Miguel had stopped, you still feel anxious. Your heart is banging against your chest and you feel a knot growing within your throat, making your voice hoarse and strained. But those pale in comparison to what you feel mentally.

Despite being with Miguel, you don’t feel safe. You feel the overwhelming urge to hide under the covers and sob and scrub yourself raw. Your senses are on-edge, gifting you a numbing headache that pummels against your temples despite there being no danger present.

You can’t focus. You want to sleep. Forget. Wake up tomorrow when this is all over.

“A shower sounds nice,” you finally say. “But I don’t think I’m that hungry right now.”

“That’s fine,” Miguel reassures you. “You shower. I’ll be in the living room when you’re finished,”

“Alright,” You give him a small nod, willing yourself to stand and head to the bathroom.

As you go through the motions, you can’t help but steal glance at your body every couple of minutes.

You don’t know how to feel. You don’t know what you’re feeling. A part of you feels scared. Scared because you’re trying so hard not to let your mind go to where your body has seemingly returned. Another part of you feels frustrated. You want Miguel—or at least you wanted him—but you...You didn’t feel fully present. It’s like no matter how hard you tried to be present in the moment, you just couldn’t. You can’t move everything out of your mind. Not by yourself, not with Miguel—hell, sometimes not even while you sleep.

You sigh, running the loofah along your arm again.

Great, another thing to mention in therapy.

You have to be patient with yourself. That was a fact that you learned a long time ago. But sometimes—sometimes it’s so frustrating that it brings tears to your eyes. You feel like a lost cause. Some days you even wonder if you’ll ever be able to feel “normal” again. To be able to relax and let go. To have both your mind and body be on the same page.

The uncertainty of it all brings tears to your eyes and they fall in fat goblets, mixing with the show water as they trickle down the drain.

An hour later, you pad into the living room wearing a pair of loose sweatpants, a light shirt, and the ends of your hair slightly damp.

“Hey,” Miguel turns from the sink to the kitchen counter, turning off the faucet. You look around the kitchen with furrowed brows, hoping that he really didn’t cook anything because you don’t think that you have much of an appetite at all now.

“I made some agua de fresa”, Miguel explains, pointing to the living room. “I know you said you don’t have much appetite but just in case you feel dehydrated, it’s there.”

You look, seeing two glasses of agua de fresa and the TV paused on the first few minutes of your show from earlier. On the couch is your favorite blanket and slightly more pillows than there were earlier.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, your throat raw with emotion.

Miguel simply nods, his eyes still scanning your face. “If there’s anything you need—or anything you want—please, just tell me.”

Minutes later, you and Miguel find yourselves on the couch, blanket draped over your laps and a glass of agua de fresa in your hand. The blanket acts as a tether between the two of you—close enough for the two of you to feel each other’s warmth but not close enough that you were on top of each other, a sensation that you couldn’t handle right now.

“...Ay Dios mío, why would he do that?” Miguel frowns, angrily pointing to the TV. “I swear, I don’t know how can watch this show so calmly; some people are really stupid,”

For the first time tonight, you giggle and you feel some of the tension from earlier dissipate. You smile down at your stomach, as if it would return the gesture.

Patience, you remind yourself.

It most definitely hasn’t been a perfect night but it’s starting to get better. And, for the first time in a long time, you feel yourself relaxing a bit, getting consumed by the moment.

As you look around you, you can only sigh in relief.

In due time. Maybe not soon, but you’re on your way. In due time.

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for reading. Admittedly, this fic was a little personal and I just wanted to clarify that I know this isn’t everybody's experience or way or handling things but it is mine so that’s what I went off of.

To everyone in a similar situation: It will be okay. Maybe not now but one day it will. Please keep going and take care of yourselves.

[fiddleyoumust]

I need everyone who watched episode 7 of Your Sky today and walked away feeling sorry for P'Oh to stop it.

Your Sky is doing a really great job of showing you the differences and similarities between Muenfah's behavior and Oh's. They're both hotheaded. They both have a tendency to react violently when angry.

This episode is the first time I've been upset with Muenfah. Even though it was Oh who pushed Teerak, Muenfah was more interested in punishing Oh, then checking on Teerak. It's the first time he's ever given me pause and made me question whether he's the kind of person Teerak should date.

Oh is worse, though. Sure, he shows concern for Teerak in the moment after Teerak falls, but he's also the one who put him on the ground, so that's only right.

In the aftermath of the fight, he blames his mother for his actions. She's a shit a parent, but Oh is an adult who has made bad choice after bad choice because he got obsessed with a boy who was nice to him ONE time.

Teerak is a kind person. He is also a timid person. He doesn't like negative emotions and wants to please people. It's hard for him to say no, which makes it easy for people with bad intentions to take advantage of his kindness.

Oh has repeatedly done that to him. He's pressured him. He's stalked him. He's drugged him. He's coerced him and now he's physically hurt him. All of this because Teerak was nice to him once and Oh fixated on him.

The flashback to their first meeting was important, because it shows you that Teerak never treated Oh special. He treated him the way he treats everyone, with genuine kindness and care.

Oh clearly hasn't had that in his life. I feel bad for him for having a shitty mother, but his trauma doesn't give him the right to cause harm to others. Oh doesn't need Teerak. Oh needs therapy, and it's not anyone's job to save him. The problem is, Oh doesn't think he's the problem, so he will never work on himself.

The show told us that by introducing another character at the end, doing exactly what Teerak did by being kind to a stranger, and leaving us with the sense that the cycle was about to start again. Even as Oh was shedding tears over his "love" not being returned, we could see in real time the fixation beginning to shift to a new target.

In contrast, we have Muenfah, still reeling from Teerak second-guessing their kiss. A kiss where Muenfah did nothing wrong, and got consent before he did it, and it still ended up being something that made Teerak uncomfortable.

Sometimes, we can do everything in our power to make sure our partner is ready and it still isn't enough. I kind of want this show to talk about it, because it's doing a lot right on communication and consent, and I think we need to talk more about what you do when communication and consent still end with a bad result.

The great thing about Muenfah, and one of the reasons I adore him, despite his anger issues, is that he KNOWS this is an issue. He's aware. And he's not looking for Teerak to fix him.

The conversation with his parents, where he acknowledges that his temper is a real problem that might cost him a relationship with Teerak, was so important. The fact that he says he knows he needs to work on himself so he can be a good partner is just. SIGH. I love this man.

I hope we get to see him say some of this to Teerak next week. I hope he also apologizes for what happened in the bar because it was traumatic for Teerak, and Muenfah is sorry, so he should say it. And I hope they talk about their kiss because being that intimate when their relationship status is uncertain, has left Teerak spiraling, and I think it would be neat for a show to talk about regretting consent and how to forgive yourself and your partner when things like that happen.

[iguessitsjustme]

I don't think Diew is getting enough credit for how good of a communicator he has been this entire show. I know God is upset right now because he thinks Diew is just going along with him and isn't saying when he doesn't want to do something, but we have been shown time and time again that Diew does not do things that he does not want to do.

From the very beginning, Diew has had no problem establishing firm boundaries. It's the main reason that we all call God a giant green flag. Because some of Diew's boundaries could have been ignored and called ridiculous, but they never were. God went out of his way to make sure he did not see Diew face to face because he knew Diew was not ready for that. And he knew Diew was not ready for that because Diew had clearly communicated and established his comfort level.

We even see it outside of their relationship when Diew tells Jane no. Even after being pressured by her. Even after she bullies him. He tells her no. He also tells her that he does not view friendship the same way she does and he's perfectly happy with the few close friends he has.

Diew and God had a wonderful conversation last episode when God was making Diew uncomfortable with how he was treating him while on their vacation. Diew waited until an appropriate moment when they were alone to bring it up and God sat and listened. Even if he felt a little defensive because no one wants to be the reason their loved one is uncomfortable, he listened, he apologized and he fixed it.

Which is why it was so painful to see Diew incapable of communicating to God when it came to Dr. Pee. We all watched those flashbacks and know how poorly Diew was treated by that man. But I think the most telling thing for how badly it affected Diew and how much he still struggles with it is that he did not tell God. Not because he didn't want to, but because that hurt is still so deep that he could not.

God has every right to be upset. Not only does he have Pee telling him falsehoods about Diew and how Diew just goes along with whatever which tugs and one of God's insecurities, but God also does know that Diew lied about how Pee was to him. That one little lie that Pee was just a senior opened the door for God to believe what Pee told him. Despite all of the communication that those two have had, one little worm of doubt found it's way into God's brain and now he doesn't know if he can trust Diew's feelings for him. God still fully trusts Diew, but he doesn't know if Diew truly loves him or loves Pee. We all know, but God does not. And when God gave Diew the opportunity to say anything and Diew did not, the worm buried itself deeper. Then buried itself deeper still when God called out Diew on his lie and made assumptions about the bracelet and instead of telling him anything, Diew left.

What I love about this conflict is there is no right or wrong person. They are both flawed human beings that are hurting because they love each other but they don't know how to approach this issue yet. Because Diew is traumatized by Pee and is shutting down whenever he has to be vulnerable because of Pee but God has no way to know that. So it just seems like Diew is shutting him down and shutting him out. Were there ways that both of them could have avoided this conflict? Absolutely. Diew could have said "This is a hard topic for me to talk about. I want to tell you but I need time to be ready." God could have not made assumptions about the bracelet being given to Diew by an ex. But that's not who they are. They are both flawed and beautiful and in love and sometimes being in love makes things certain things harder and makes people behave irrationally.

But I fully believe that these two can get through this. Please don't break up. And once they make it through this conflict, they will have a better understanding of each other and will know exactly how to handle similar conflicts going forward. Because that's the thing about this conflict. They need to work through it as a team. As partners. And if any couple can do that, God and Diew can.

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

25 - I Find Some Peace Of Mind, Knowing I Let Go In Time

Pairings: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x OFC Samantha Kazansky, OMC Captain Bodhi 'Sunshine' Denson x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: EXPLICIT (MDNI!) (DON'T YOU DARE I STG)

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNINGS description of sexual coercion leading to dubious consent leading to sexual assault, traumatic fear response in a separate encounter, and at the end SMUT (not related to the SA) unprotected!piv (wrap before you tap)

A/N: This is long and it's very important. There are trigger warnings. They are as follows: description of sexual coercion leading to dubious consent, leading to sexual assault. Yes, this is a flashback of what Sam told Jake about. No, it is not the entire encounter but if you feel uncomfortable in any way, I suggest you not read it and you skip down to the planes and anchor page break. After the page break you will find and encounter that Sam has with another man that is not Rooster and not Jake. This encounter is from Sam's memory and it shows her trauma and hesitation and it is also the one that helps her heal (slightly) from what Rooster did. At the very end you will find a small section of her with Jake. This chapter is a fucking journey and I honestly enjoyed writing it so much because though we speak about about sexual assault and a certain 'R' word, I don't think we speak about encounters like this one mentioned enough. That's all I'll say on that. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, and thank you for continuing to read. I know I've thrown some real curve balls at y'all but hopefully they bring something real and emotionally to the story that resonates.

As always your feedback drives me and I appreciate every comment, reblog, and like on these stories. And yes, I thought of Alex O'Loughlin when I was writing Bodhi Denson. Song listed below was the inspiration for the title and storyline for this particular chapter.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03 @coloraturadiva

Samantha entered the bar on her father's arm. He had just had surgery not long ago to remove several tumors along his esophagus and he was not in much of a place to talk. She noticed a familiar face coming through the crowd. 

“Hey Sammy.” Rooster said as he pulled her into for a hug. It was a warm and tight hug, and she could tell how much he missed her by the duration of it.

“Hey Roos. Long time no see huh?” She said. Her father stepped away, being ushered by Maverick to hang out with some of their old friends. She recognized Slider and Wolfman, old friends of their, and fellow pilots, who had come visit the house many a time while Sam was growing up. Rooster left his hand’s lingering on her waist and he smiled down at her.

“I missed you.” He said, pulling her in again for a hug, this time shorter and then he awkwardly let go of her.

“Yeah you too.”Sam said, feeling there was an odd tension between the two of them, but she decided to ignore it. Rooster found a table in the back of the room and set Sam up there. He went to get drinks for both of them several times and  it didn’t take long for Sam to feel herself getting tipsy. Rooster noticed and put a hand at her back to steady.

“You okay?” He asked. 

“I'm a little drunk Roos.” She giggled, her brain feeling all happy and bubbly with the alcohol.

“Well maybe you should head home?” He said, as he gently caressed her cheek. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. She was dizzied by the action, his hand wrapping around her back and his other at the back of her neck. She pushed him away and wiped her mouth, glaring at him.

“Dad's with Mav. He's enjoying himself.” She said in a somewhat annoyed tone. It wasn’t directed at her father. It was towards Rooster.

“I can take you wherever you wanna go then.” He said and she pursed her lips.

“Why don't we go back to your place if you're so keen on kissing me. I don't want anyone to think we're together.” She joked, making Rooster bristle. Sometimes he hated her when she was drunk. She became a completely different person.

“Wow, Sammy. That's harsh.” He said and she shrugged and took another sip of her drink.

“Sorry but I'm not allowed to date Navy guys. Daddy says so.” She said in a teasing tone. Rooster grabbed for her again, this time pinning her to a wall in a more secluded area.

“I'm not just any Navy guy.” Rooster said as he descended on her lips again. Sam fought him, clawing at his shirt to try to get him off. He only pulled away when she dug her long nails into his chest.

‘Bradley. Stop it. I'm drunk.” She murmured, with a goofy smirk. Rooster couldn’t tell if she was being serious, or if she was trying to get him horny. Either way, he wasn’t having her be this drunk and stay at the bar.

‘C'mon princess.” He said, taking her hand and pulling her out of the bar.

“Where are we going? You can't drive.” She asked as he pulled her along.

“My apartment is a couple minutes walk.” He murmured and she tried to dig in her heels but she was wobbly and he was the only thing keeping her from falling. Not wanting to hurt herself she gave in and followed. When they arrived, he fumbled with his keys but unlocked the door and let them in. He led her to the couch and got her settled and then went to lock the door and get two glasses and a bottle of vodka. “Another drink?”

“I don't need to be more drunk you idiot.” She groaned and laid her head back against the back of the couch. 

“Well now you're safe so...if you want it...” He said, pouring a shot in each glass. He handed it to her and they both smirked at each other and took the shot. Rooster loved a good drink with a pretty girl.

As they sat on the couch, Rooster placed his phone on the table and pressed play on a playlist with old soft rock music that his dad used to listen to. He scooted closer to Sam as she placed her glass down. He reached for her, his hands going for her waist. She tensed and Rooster’s grip tightened slightly. 

“Roos...” Sam sighed, as he began to kiss her neck. “Roos, stop.” 

He drew back and he sighed. He stood and walked to another room. Sam sat there for a few moments, wondering if she’d upset him. She stood, wobbly as all hell and used the wall to head toward the room that she thought he went into. He was standing in the middle and when he saw Sam he stepped toward her.

“Roos, why are you so sad?”

“I just need a friend right now, Sammy. Work’s been hell. I’m so tired.”

“I’m sorry, Roos.” She said, placing a hand on his cheek. He leaned down and pulled her close. He drew back and kissed her again.

“I need a friend right now, Sammy.” He said softly, as his arms caged her in. She was dizzy from the alcohol. The room was spinning and she was so disoriented so she let Rooster pull her toward the bed hoping it would stop there, both the effects of the alcohol and Rooster coming onto her. He turned and placed her down on the bed, climbing over the top of her. He began to pull the skirt of her dress up and she squirmed in his arms.

“Bradley...I don’t want...” She began but his fingers made their way to her core. She gasped at the intrusion. He was rough and sloppy with his digits as he worked her arousal up. 

“C’mon princess, please, just be a good girl for me? I’ll be really good to you.” She couldn't help what her body was doing. She felt betrayed by it. She felt betrayed by her childhood friend. 

“Bradley, please stop.” She moaned. He drew back for a moment and his gaze darkened. 

“I thought you liked me, Sammy. I like you. I love you.” His grip tightened more and Sam’s eyes widened. He pulled away to unbutton his pants.

“I do like you, Roos.” Sam said, becoming complacent. She knew she couldn't overpower him, and she also knew that this wasn't him, it was the alcohol. In the back of her mind though, this was him. He had always been pushy with her. The alcohol just seemed to make him worse.

“Well, then kiss me Sammy.” He said and she kissed him back hesitantly. If she appeased him, he wouldn’t escalate, or at least that was her hope. 

“I don’t want to do it like this...” She said, and it seemed as though for a moment, his demeanor changed and his gaze softened. His grip lessened. 

“You’re killing me with all this back and forth, princess. Let's just do this. We've been friends forever, don't you want more?” He asked and he gave her a moment, running his hand gently over her cheek, a stark contrast to how he had begun. Her eyes met his.

“I...Roos..” She began but as he freed himself from his pants, there was no time to object. He pushed inside of her and quieted her pained moan with his mouth. He only pulled away to praise her.

“God, I knew you’d feel good, Samantha. I fucking knew it. Been dreaming about this for years, princess.” He sighed against her ear and she closed her eyes tight, as she grabbed his biceps, trying to ground herself. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he continued.

She didn't want this.

🛩⚓️🛩

A couple of months later...

“This seat taken?” Sam heard a voice behind her, making her flinch slightly. She wasn’t coming out to get hit on. She came to people watch. And because she knew Rooster wasn’t in Miramar.

“No, feel free.” She said, her tone annoyed. The man sat down at the bar stool next to her and smiled. Sam glanced at him and did a double take. He was...good looking. Tall, blond, blueish eyes, and a beard with a bit of grey mixed in. He was slender and muscular, and surprisingly pale. He wore his Navy khakis, and Sam glanced at his name patch and rank. A silver eagle. Captain Denson.

“Thanks. I'm Bodhi.” He said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“I'm Samantha.” She said, taking his hand, it was big and warm. She blushed a little and pulled her hand away. His smile was warm and he regarded her softly.

“Your Kazansky's daughter right? He's an old friend.” He said. Sam raised a brow.

“Yeah.  How do you know my dad?” She asked.

“ I'm a pilot.  Flew with him a while back.” He said, leaning his elbow on the bar. Penny smiled at him and placed a beer in front of him.

“Oh yeah? What’s your callsign then? Maybe he’s mentioned you.” Sam said, her tone slightly teasing.

“Sunshine.” He said, taking a sip of the beer.

“Nope, don’t recognize that. You have a story for that?” Sam asked, finishing off her own drink. Her third Moscow Mule.

“Everyone in my squadron used to make fun of me for being a grumpy fuck in the morning, so they called me Sunshine. I grew to love the teasing. Meant they cared about me. I uh...heard your dad was sick? How's he doing?” Bodhi asked, his smile widening as he told her about his callsign and then a frown returning at the mention of Iceman.

“He's okay. Just had another surgery but recovered well. I'm hoping he'll make it to my graduation.” Sam explained and he nodded.

“I'm sure he does too. What about you? Graduation from where?” He asked.

“Harvard. Finance.” Sam said matter-of-factly.

“Smart and beautiful. “ Bodhi said with a smirk, then he glanced away as if he’d embarrassed himself by saying that. Sam thanked him for the compliment and it almost made her laugh. His eyes searched the bar and then he asked her another question. “Are you just home for the weekend?”

‘Yeah.” She said, as Penny came by and Sam put her hand over her drink, signaling that she didn’t want another.

“Can I buy you a drink then? No strings attached.” Bodhi said as he took another sip of his drink.

“Um...I don't think that's a great idea.” She shook her head and pursed her lips, her eyes fixating on him.

“Okay, yeah, no I get it. Sorry, that was creepy.” His eyes traveled back to hers and his smile was apologetic.

“No, no, I’m just not trying to get super drunk. I've already had a little more than I should've.” Sam said, leaning back on the seat and glancing around. She didn’t know if she should look for a way out yet.

“How about a non-alcoholic drink then?” He asked. Sam’s head whipped around then and she tensed.

“Thank you, but I'm all set.” She said, swallowing hard. Time to start looking for the exit. She shifted in her seat and went to pull her card from her wallet.

“So...you didn't wanna join the Navy like your dad?” Bodhi asked, slowly sipping his beer.

“Haha, no. I have an issue with authority.” Sam chuckled as she handed her card to Penny.

“Yeah? You're a rebel then?” He asked.

“I just don't like men dictating my every move.” Sam said, her eyes meeting his.

“Well, sometimes your superior officer is a woman.” He said, shifting in his seat. Did he just move closer to her?

“Yeah but more often than not it’s a man.” Sam said, bouncing her leg slightly. She was getting inpatient and uncomfortable now.

“Okay...yeah I gotcha. I get it.” He said, another gulp of liquid going down his throat. 

“You don’t. You’re a man.” Sam affirmed, her stare hardening.

“You’re right, I don't get it. Help me understand.” Bodhi said, his tone softening. 

“You could never understand...” She said, as Penny handed her card back. She placed it in her phone case.

“Try me.” He said, leaning closer, his voice going slightly higher.

“I don’t really want to talk about this anymore.” Sam said, standing and placing her phone on the bar in front of her as she brushed off the front of her dress, making sure there was nothing on it. 

“I get the feeling we’re not talking about you not being in the Navy anymore...” Bodhi said, straightening. He tilted his head.

“I’m sorry...I have to go.” Sam panicked and she nearly ran out of the Hard Deck then, wobbly on her feet as she went. By the grace of god she made it out the door and down the front steps but then she heard Bodhi’s voice behind her.

“Hey! Wait up a sec!” He called, and as he got closer, Sam drew back, her eyes wide in fear.

“Look...I’m not interested in you okay?” She raised her voice and he put his hands up.

“Wasn’t asking if you were...you left your phone on the bar...” He said, holding out her phone. Now she felt like an asshole. All thanks to Rooster and every other guy that had tried to pick her up at a bar. Fucking men.

“Oh...I’m so sorry...Thank you.” She said, taking her phone. His hand lingered on hers for a few moments before he pulled back and rubbed the back of his neck. Sam hadn’t realized her breath was coming out quicker than before.

“Look, honey, are you okay to drive home? You just seem real upset...” Bodhi said softly, stepping toward her. 

“I’m fine...” She warned, her eyes flicking up to his. 

“No, you’re not. Let me drive you home. I swear, I mean no harm, I’m just lookin’ out for you.” His hands were careful on her upper arms and he noticed the mistiness in her brown eyes. She pulled away from him and stepped back.

“No...I...please leave me alone...” She turned to walk away and stumbled.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I wish you the best.” He said, shaking his head. She could hear the complacency in his tone. She took a few more steps and then took a deep breath. She shouldn’t drive. Her vision wasn’t blurry, but the world spun just a little bit and she didn’t want to get into an accident.

“Hey...wait...I’m sorry...actually...you offered...I don’t feel comfortable driving.” She turned and held a hand up apologetically. Bodhi hadn’t budged from his spot.

“Okay. Here, c’mon. My trucks over here.” His voice was gentle and he stepped toward her, putting his arms around her. He helped her into the passenger side and shut the door. He walked around and got in, starting the engine and then glancing at her.

“Where do you live?” He asked. She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to tell him but then reasoning with her stupid brain that she had to for him to drive her home. Idiot.

“Just off Antares Drive.” She said, leaning against the window.

“Okay, short drive.” His hands wrapped around the wheel and Sam could only think about how veiny and big they were...

“Do you not have a wife or kids to go home to?” She asked, eyes searching his form for a lie. He sighed heavily.

“Nah. Divorced. She took the kid and moved him across the country. Cheated while I was deployed. I’m hoping one day Toby, my son, will want to come find me, but I’m not holding out hope.” His glance only made it over her face, which he noticed a blush over her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry.” She said, moving in the seat to face him.

“Nah, it’s okay...what about you? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” He asked as he observed how dark it had gotten in so little time. 

“No boyfriend. Boys suck. They’re all assholes.” Her tone was bored and flat, and it made Bodhi laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” He said with a smile.

“Especially when they’re your best friend. And they think that you owe them something.” She said, more annoyed now. Bodhi raised a brow.

“Uh...are we getting to the root of your problem here?” He asked, eyes flicking between her and the road.

“I don’t know you...I’ll probably never see you again...I feel like I can tell you anything and it won’t fucking matter.” She confessed, hands playing with the skirt of her dress as she looked back out the window. She could see jets taking off as they drove along a quiet road next to the airstrip.

“That is all pretty accurate.” He said. Sam breathed out and reached for his arm.

“Can you pull over?” She asked. 

“Yeah sure.” He pulled over almost immediately, a spot on the shoulder that would give them some privacy. He shut the truck off and turned in his seat to face her. “Okay, I’m listening intently.”

“My friend...not best friend, but childhood friend...did something...and I don’t know what to make of it now because he’s acting like nothing happened.” Sam explained, glancing out the window and biting her lip. 

“I’m sorry, honey. Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me this.” Bodhi’s brows knit and his tone was soft.

“I’m not fucking telling anyone else so you’re it.” Sam’s in contrast was harsh and he could see tears form in her eyes, even in the dark.

“Okay, okay. Keep going.” He coaxed, leaning toward her slightly. 

“I don’t even know what to call it. It’s so confusing. We were so drunk and his feelings just kind of came to a head. He made me feel bad for not wanting to...so I just let him...but I didn’t want to!” She began to cry and Bodhi reached for her, pulling her into a hug over the center console. 

“Honey, that's not a good friend. I know that much. A man should never force you to do anything like that, even if he says he has feelings for you or whatever. If you said no, he should’ve stopped.” He let go of her for a moment and raised the center console and she scooted closer to him. He caged her in, his strong, musky scent somewhat comforting to her.

“He didn’t...” She whined. Sobs wracked her body and Bodhi thought for a moment, what the hell did he get himself into?

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her. He smoothed a hand over her hair gently.

“Physically, no...but my brain is all fucking confused now. I don’t...I don’t understand why he did that. If he loved me, why would he force me to?” She questioned, hoping maybe Bodhi had an answer to her inner turmoil. He did in fact, showing his age and worldly experience.

“Because he thought by making you do it that you’d love him back, which is a pretty fucked up way to think, but you’d be surprised how many men think that way.” He kissed the top of her head and she curled her legs up on the seat, trying to get closer to him.

“Do you think that way?” She asked, looking up at him. He wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled.

“No, honey. I don’t. That’s why I got cheated on. I was too nice. Too vanilla.” He said, his grip loosening for a moment. Sam leaned up, their faces only inches away from each other. 

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” She murmured, her eyes glazing over. His tongue poked out to wet his lips and his thumb rubbed over her cheek. She closed the distance, pressing her lips to his fleetingly.

“I’m probably twice your age.” He purred. His thumb stilled as his gaze settled upon hers.

“So what?” She teased and he shook his head.

“This is a bad idea.” He said, drawing back a few inches. He saw how rosy her cheeks were and how pleading her eyes were then.

“Not If we both want it. You came on to me first. You had to expect something like this was going to happen if you played your cards right.” She noted, begging him for another kiss. 

“You’re not wrong about that. You’re a pretty girl. Figured I’d at least shoot my shot. Didn’t expect it to go this way.” He obliged, his breath quickening. It had been entirely too long that he;d been with a woman, let alone one so beautiful and young.

“I didn’t either, but now you know my secret.” Sam said seductively.

“So what's that supposed to mean?” Bodhi asked, the hand around her waist tightening. He felt her tense.

“Maybe just for tonight, we both get a little of what we want?” Sam suggested, willing herself to relax into his arms.

“And what is it that you want, honey? What do you need?” He asked, and Sam felt a rush of heat pool at her core. Never had a man asked what she needed so intimately.

“I just want a man to respect me for once.” She affirmed. She shifted, Bodhi slipping closer to the center, placing his legs on either side in the middle of the truck. She straddled his lap and placed her hands on his shoulders. 

“I’m being respectful now.” His lips met her collarbone and she let her head fall back. 

“You know what I mean...” She whined and his hands went for her hips, massaging the skin there through her dress. 

“You really wanna take this old guy for a spin?” He asked, letting his head dip between her breasts.

“I’m open to experimenting.” She’d stopped crying and the alcohol had given her back the courage she needed.

“Damn, girl. I’ll be gentle...I promise...and you ask me to stop...I’m out.” He sighed, raising the skirt of her dress. She unbuckled his belt. As she sank down on his length, Sam’s eyes fluttered closed and then when she opened them, she wasn’t in the truck with Bodhi...

She was in Jake’s room, and he was between her legs, his pretty green eyes staring up quizzically at her.

“You okay, honeybun? You didn’t even notice that I stopped goin’ down on you.” He mused, his smirk wide but his brows furrowed. Sam felt dizzy, like she was drunk, but she knew she hadn’t had any alcohol. She gazed down at Jake. At her fiance..

“Jake...yeah...I’m...okay...can you...please keep going. Sorry. Work just has me frazzled.” She said, propping herself up on her elbows. He crawled up on the bed, over the top of her, all muscle and sinew bound into one handsome package. His lips met hers and she felt his smirk. She did that. She made him smile like that.

“Well let me help with that. Where do you want me?” Jake purred, reaching one hand up and brushing his thumb over her cheek, then his hand steadied her at her chin, pressing a kiss full of desire and devotion to her lips.

“Inside...I want you inside me, Jake, please.” She moaned, smirking when his dog tags jingled and settled between her breasts. Jake pulled her hips taut to his, pressing inside of her with one smooth motion. His name fell from her lips, as he braced himself, grabbing the headboard. 

“Demanding. I like it. Relax for me, okay? Let me get’cha there.” Jake growled, burying his face in the crook of her neck, licking and sucking marks into the skin there. One of her hands trailed up his back to the back of his neck, threading into his short blond hair, nails scratching at his scalp. He groaned in ecstasy, his thrusts deep and slow. Her other hand gripped his bicep tight, steadying herself. Grounding herself. 

This is what she’d always wanted.

[amsgrey]

when you're ready

Kaz Brekker x Fem!reader (established relationship)

Kaz comforts you after you get hurt.

WARNINGS: Assault (kind of alludes to SA but not stated), please do not read if this might upset you, canon typical violence, traumatic event, talk of ptsd symptoms (reader and Kaz) not proofread.

note: This is really short because I have been crazy busy with uni work, but here's a little Kaz comfort.

Nina held tight to your hand, laying next to you on your tiny cot. She watched quietly as Inej threaded a needle through the deep cut on your side. Your eyes were shut tight, trying to fight off the tears and nausea that built within you. Inej was being as gentle as she could, her fingers ghosting over your skin. She knew how you felt, she had been in your position too many times before. Your shirt was a bloody mess on the ground, leaving your skin exposed to the cold air that drafted through your open window.

"Almost done," Inej whispered, breaking the silence.

As she finished her work, you couldn't hold in the tears any longer. They fell silently down your cheeks as you tried to fight off the flashbacks burning through your mind. You could still feel the rough hands that had grabbed you, the fist that knotted your hair, yanking so hard on your scalp you feared it was ripped right out. You had tried to fight, to scream for the crows, but you were easily overpowered by the men who were easy twice your size. They bore the tattoo of dime lions, branded on their forearms that peaked out under their shirts.

Nina and Inej stayed with you the whole night, watching over you as you slept and reminding you you were safe when you woke crying. In fact, they stayed with you for the four days that followed. You couldn't bare the thought of leaving your room, Nina and Inej kept the other crows away and looked after you together. You still flinched at the sound of male voices, you knew it was irrational and ridiculous but there was nothing you could do to stop yourself.

Nina had told you that Kaz was worried, but he knew you needed space and therefore would give it to you. A small part of you wanted to seek him out, but there was the nagging in the back of your head that he couldn't give you the comfort you were seeking.

"Kaz is sending us all on a job tonight," Inej had brought you a cup of tea, the two of you looking out the window down at the streets below.

You nodded, "Is Kaz going too?"

Inej shook her head, "He's staying here."

You nodded, watching her go and leaving you stewing in your room. After the sun had long since set, you cracked open your door and tried to get yourself to leave your room.

Stepping past the threshold had been the most challenging part, trying to force your feet to move from where they stayed glued. You had almost cried in frustration, this was your home, you should not have to feel so scared.

So you forged ahead, taking the first step out of your room and then another. And another. Until you were all the way at Kaz's door. You held your hand on the door handle, breathing heavily to try to quell the nausea in your stomach.

You recoiled when you heard footsteps on the other side o the door, stepping back when Kaz threw open the door with a scowl. You gaped for something to say, blinking back the tears that suddenly choked you. Kaz looked like he was about to scorn the person who lingered outside his door, when he finally looked at you the scowl vanished.

"Y/N," He said, so softly it wretched through your already crumbling resolve.

Kaz seemed to realize how distraught you were, he stepped to the side and ushered you inside his room. When the door was securely closed, you turned to Kaz and silently begged for what you came to see him for. You always tried to give Kaz space, not pressuring him for physical affection, but now you need it. Needed him.

Kaz didn't look caged like he often did when he was uncomfortable, instead, he grabbed you in his arms and held you tightly to his chest. You had never actually hugged Kaz, you had held hands and been close enough to kiss but never hugged. Somehow it felt so much more intimate than the touches you had shared before. Kaz held you to his chest as you cried quietly, finally letting the relief of safety wash over you.

You pulled away after a moment, trying to compose yourself, "I'm sorry," You whispered.

Kaz cupped your face in his gloved hands, "they won't hurt you again."

You had heard a few whispers about the slat in the last few days. Kaz had disappeared one evening and returned covered in blood, his cane stained red. It was always accompanied by whispers about his gloves or Dirtyhands does not need a reason. You knew there was a reason this time. How he had managed to track down and find the men who had attacked you was beyond you, you hadn't told anyone about who they were.

"Thank you."

You slipped past Kaz and sat down heavily on his bed, looking over his room. Kaz hesitantly sat down next to you, watching you with sharp eyes and waiting for you to show signs of being uncomfortable.

After a long moment, you let out a sigh, covering your face with your hands and trying to gather your thoughts. You could feel Kaz shift next to you, and then he placed a hand on your shoulder to try to comfort you.

"I'll be here," Kaz promised, taking back his hand because he didn't know what exactly to do, "when you're ready to talk."

You nodded, "I know."

[topazadine]

Writing Compelling Trauma in Fiction: Dos and Don'ts

Trauma is, quite frankly, a load-bearing weight in the fiction space. We've all done it: thrown in the saddest, most miserable little factoid about our meow-meows so that they feel not just real, but compelling and sympathetic. It helps readers empathize with them and spices up a story.

Very well-done trauma can also be cathartic for readers, especially if the character prevails despite what has happened to them.

The problem is that poorly written trauma can feel exploitative, cheap, and melodramatic. It turns people off, especially those who have been through a similar experience. Now it feels as if someone is using our pain to sell things or get attention, and it is often obvious when someone has not been through that experience, which can make readers feel uncomfortable.

So, here is my opinion on how to write more compelling trauma.

As always, I am not the ultimate authority on writing, I am not telling you exactly what to do with your writing, my opinions are just opinions, I am not perfect, I might be wrong, this might not resonate with you. Take what you like and leave the rest.

There's also not going to explicit descriptions of abuse or trauma in this post.

These are the highlights, and then we'll get more into it under the cut.

Trauma must be transformative

Flashbacks are not little movies

Triggers are not always obvious

Don't give characters every trauma ever

It's not always necessary to show the event

The earlier the trauma happens, the more it changes a character

Characters do not always tell every single person about the trauma

Characters themselves may not be explicit about discussing the trauma

And then we will go through some quick action points about trauma.

Trauma must be transformative

Trauma, by definition, changes someone; otherwise, whatever happened would just be another normal Tuesday and no one would care.

This problem is where we get the concept of "fridging." Something horrible happens to a character and they just kind of shrug it off, or it impels them to do something but doesn't actually change them as a person.

For example, a superhero finds their (typically female) lover dead and it spurs them to fight the villain, but then it just doesn't do anything else. They forget about the dead lover and said lover is never mentioned again. That's shitty writing and also kind of misogynistic.

It doesn't need to change them in bad ways, per se: Batman becomes a crime fighter because his parents died in front of him. We know that and always feel that in his story. But, there must be a change or the trauma doesn't mean anything.

Options for you (not an exhaustive list):

Developing anxiety. This may be a more globalized anxiety, such as agoraphobia, or it may be more specific. Shying away from "unsafe" situations that seem perfectly safe to other people. This is another form of anxiety. Becoming withdrawn and refusing to trust anyone. Clinging to "safe" people; becoming dependent and helpless. They may become codependent and childlike. This is common with childhood abuse, particularly childhood sexual abuse. Their emotional coping skills were stunted after the event and they never developed a healthy sense of self. Growing cold and unemotional; isolating themselves from other people. They may refuse to talk about the event and insist that they are fine. Advocating for others dealing with the same thing. Acting like an emotional "open wound:" intense, trauma vomiting all over other people, failing to self-regulate. Having extreme bursts of rage. This is more common in men, but it can also happen in women. For sexual trauma, becoming hypersexual or having no interest in sex whatsoever. They may become incredibly touch-averse, even getting antsy when someone touches their hand. Making risky decisions that lead to further traumatization. Especially true regarding child abuse; those who were molested as children are far more likely to be revictimized later in life. BTW, this is not victim-blaming: it is still the abuser's fault for hurting them. No one should take advantage of someone's vulnerability like that. Keeping everything surface level and refusing to open up to anyone about anything. They may seem "bland" and uninteresting to the outside observer because everything about them has been stuffed down. As I have mentioned elsewhere, trauma often blunts a person's personality and makes them less interesting.

Again, this isn't an exhaustive list, but it's an idea of what you might be able to work with.

Flashbacks are not little movies

Nothing irks me more than writers who decide that the best possible way to explain someone's trauma is to just go back in time and show it in exhaustive detail because that is not how trauma generally works. You don't just see the whole thing in vivid technicolor most of the time.

Why? Because trauma is ... traumatic. Your brain wants to protect you from that experience and isn't going to force you to relive it over and over again exactly as it happened.

More commonly, flashbacks are small snippets of the event. For example, you might see the person's eyes as they are staring at you, or a very brief image of the worst part of it. You'll see what your eyes were focusing on in the moment, but you're not going to see the whole thing all at once. Sometimes, a flashback is like a still image, or like a GIF. But it's not a little movie.

In other cases, a flashback is just a body sensation with no actual visual images shown. You might feel pain in the place where you were hurt, and you may not even realize it's a flashback.

This can actually make for very compelling writing when done correctly, because you can show small snapshots of the event sprinkled throughout the story so that the reader slowly develops a full understanding of what happened.

So what could you show?

The eyes of the perpetrator

Expressions on a perpetrator's face

A "diorama" of the room/location where it took place

Repeating images of a small section of the event

Physical pain: pelvic pain for assault, tender ribs, old wounds starting to hurt again

Darkness or swirls of motion

Sounds or phrases that were said during the event

The aftermath: what happened right after they were safe or rescued

Sensations: pressure, heat, cold, weightlessness, heaviness, exhaustion, pain

Triggers are not always obvious

A trigger can be anything that reminds you of trauma. Scents, sounds, words, certain brands, the tone of someone's voice, specific locations that just remind you of where it happened, anything. I am sure there are people out there who are triggered by Dolce & Gabbana handbags or certain ice cream flavors.

Sometimes, a trigger is not even obvious to the person who suffered. They may not realize why they shy away from certain experiences, like swinging on a playset or walking through an airport, because they can't remember why that's relevant to what happened.

Don't give a character every trauma ever

Going overboard with trauma is one of the best ways to get people to hate your book. It feels as if you are using trauma as a stand-in for actually developing characters people can resonate with and just using pity points to get people to care.

In fact, I would argue that you need to give characters less trauma than would be feasible for the average person. Of course, many people go through multiple types of trauma over their lifetime, to the point where if someone read a book about them, it would seem unrealistic.

But characters are not people. They are meant to populate a fictional plot. As such, less is more. Using less trauma forces you to dig deeper into those certain events and identify how your character changed.

It's not always necessary to show the event

This is especially true if you are writing about characters who have childhood trauma. Full-on cinematic flashbacks are a cheap way to get out of showing us how the trauma changed them. This is especially true if this is the only flashback in the story, or you are only flashing back to show us increasingly more disturbing examples of their trauma.

The most compelling stories I have read do not show the trauma; they show us the aftermath. We see how the character is haunted by what happened and how they can never go back to who they were before. It makes for deeper and more interesting characterization than just "oh look at this bad thing that happened."

There's also the fact that it's more intriguing to give us hints and subtle references to something. The fear of the unknown is worse than the true, explicit details, because then the reader is filling in the blanks in their own mind and imagining how bad it must have been by seeing what is before them: the traumatized character.

The earlier the trauma happens, the more it changes a character

There is a reason that any therapist will ask you about Adverse Childhood Events (ACEs): because it completely shifts who you are and affects you forever. I won't bore you with the research, but those who went through childhood trauma are more likely to have substance abuse issues, heart disease, mental health problems, social challenges, and much more. The list of things that correlate to child abuse is honestly very depressing and shocking.

This isn't to say that adult abuse isn't going to cause problems, but it won't be quite as deeply rooted and horrifying as childhood trauma. Your character will likely not go through a 180 degree shift because their personality is already well rooted. Children are still having their personality molded by their environment and are going to be more deeply scarred.

Characters do not always tell every single person about the trauma

My greatest annoyance. Characters putting it all out into the open for every single person to know about is just ... unrealistic. Even if it just happened yesterday, not everyone is going to know. Certainly if it was childhood trauma, only a few select people are going to know about it, especially in explicit detail.

For example, the vast majority of people sexually abused as children never disclose the abuse to anyone. Anyone! This makes it incredibly challenging to identify how many people were molested because so many people don't want to share.

There's a lot of shame and vulnerability that comes from disclosing abuse, and everyone, no matter who they are, wants to avoid pain. It's in our nature. There's also the fact that if it was a childhood event, the child was likely threatened with punishment if they disclosed, and that will carry on into adulthood. They will be afraid of repercussions if they share it, even if their abuser is dead or absent.

As such, you need to decide on the circle of trust. Who would your character rely on when wanting to discuss their problems? Maybe a lover, a close friend, or a parent.

One quick note here: it's actually pretty common for people who went through trauma together to not discuss it with one another. Neither wants to trigger their friend/relative/partner/etc by bringing it up, so there may just be an unspoken agreement not to mention it. If they do discuss it, it might be in more vague and referential terms instead of explicit exposition.

Characters themselves may not be explicit when discussing the trauma

It's just not realistic for your character to go through every exhaustive detail of any traumatic event when sharing it with someone. They may say "my dad hit me a lot," or "I saw a car crash," or "I was assaulted," etc. There will be brief sum-up statements, not a gory and intense description of it, for example:

"Something bad happened."

"He hit me."

"I was trapped."

"I was assaulted/raped."

"I fell."

"There was a car crash."

"Someone died in front of me."

"I was there when [x] happened."

"There was a robbery/break-in."

"I was kidnapped."

Or the classic:

"I don't want to talk about that."

Our minds don't want to make us relive it, so we will keep it vague to avoid triggering ourselves. For some people, they dissociated during the event and don't even have those details to share because they weren't consciously encoded.

Think of a bad thing that happened to you. If someone asks you, it's very unlikely that you're going to walk through it step by step for them. More likely, you'll summarize it. Your characters will do the same.

Action points for writing trauma:

Consider when the trauma happened to decide on the impact.

Pick one or two types of trauma (death of a parent, sexual assault, being mugged, getting into a car accident, watching someone die, etc) and then stick with that only.

Identify what a character would have been had they not been traumatized, and then shift that personality based on the kind of trauma.

Decide whether it's necessary to show the abuse.

Focus on sensory details rather than explicit narration when doing. any form of flashback: sights, sounds, smells, textures, how hot or cold it was, pressure, etc.

Sprinkle flashbacks throughout in snippets as they become relevant based on a trigger.

Don't trauma dump the entire experience of past trauma on the reader in one go because the character wouldn't do that themselves.

Remember that people may dissociate during a traumatic event and their own descriptions might be vague and dreamlike.

Look at the scene yourself and consider what might become a trigger. A certain perfume? Cigarette smoke? A birdsong?

Decide who would be told based on relationships with the character. Again, the checkout clerk isn't going to get the details. Maybe a therapist, a partner, a close friend.

People who were traumatized together may avoid any discussion of it.

Characters will typically summarize the experience when talking about it to others unless they have a very, very close relationship.

[grilledcheese-savage]

I just watched Jurassic world chaos theory and here’s a list of all my thoughts

Spoilers ahead

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-

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- LIMB DIFFERENCE BROOKLYN??? SHE LOOKS SO BADASS. I LOVE ALL HER NEW HAIRSTYLES. They’re so much better than the old ones (not that I didn’t like her old hair, I liked it when her roots grew in but I HATED the weird timeskip haircut at the end of cc)

- secondly, kenji getting a taste of his own medicine cause he now gets to know what it felt like to think you were betrayed by your closest friend.

- but yeah, rip kenji. That guy has been through enough. Like, if you put all his trauma in order it’s depressing. Dad abused him, manipulated him, left him on a Dino island and tried to kill all his friends. THEN he tried to make a new shady business and guilt kenji instead of just, giving him info about Brooklyn

- also Darius having a crush on Brooklyn I jokingly guessed AND WAS RIGHT

- New villain is really cool. The way she controls raptors is soooo interesting. I haven’t gotten to see any of the new Jurassic movies (I only saw Jurassic world) so idk if she’s in that one

- I really liked Mateo but I was getting flashbacks from season 2 (or was it three?) and totally thought he was gonna die. He talked too much about his daughter I totally thought he would’ve died and Darius break the news to her.

- DO THE COPS THINK THE NUBLAR SIX ARE DEAD AGAIN??? BECAUSE THEY ACCIDENTALLY (and purposely for some) FAKED THEIR OWN DEATHS WITH THE CAR AND NOT ANSWERING BRAND SHIt

- also Darius was scaring me at the beginning, he seemed really depressed. I had seen 5 seconds of spoilers by accident of him in a bathtub and kenji walking in AND I WAS CONVINCED IT WAS SOME DARK TWIST AND THE SHOW WOULD END WITH HIM killing himself! I know it’s a kids show! But I watched legend of korra… so. There.

- Also at first I was uncomfortable with the way Yaz was being characterized as traumatized the most, but I ended up loving because it felt like a Purposeful Mis characterization only for it to be turned on it’s head. Let me explain, at the beginning us as viewers are told that Yaz has been really fucked up by all the monster attacks, and had to go to therapy in Wyoming. So we as viewers get worried that she’s going to relapse her ptsd after learning they’re being hunted. But while yes, she has normal reactions to Dino’s (fear) we learn therapy actually WORKED and she wasn’t SHELTERED. She ACTUALLY LEARNED COPING SKILLS and ended up being the most well adjusted among them. It was written so well. Because now we see Sammy who we thought was doing well, have horrible coping skills and fall into an anxious attachment style because her parents don’t talk to her anymore, her girlfriend is ignoring her (avoidant attachment kinda) and all of her friends are going through their own shit on their own and don’t talk to her. She’s having panic attacks and struggling, and Yaz got to be able to pay her back for all the compassion by showing her how she handles all the fear and sadness. I FUCKING LOVED THAT. THAT WAS SO GOOD. AND I ONLY REALIZE HOW GOOD IT WAS THE MORE I SIT IN IT. I spread out my watching because if I binged I wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much.

- I also loved that they all represented different outcomes of trauma, and different coping mechanisms. Darius with the survivors guilt (again), Sammy with keeping herself busy so she doesn’t have to think about it, Ben becoming even more hyper vigillant/conspiracy theorist. Etc.

-Sammy was season mvp. She was the best character by far for me.

-She definitely needed to give Yaz her space tho, but I also hated how Yaz just assumed Sammy thought she couldn’t handle herself only because Sammy hadn’t seen her since her breakdown after the Dinos got loose. I loved watching it tho, the argument was so needed.

- I didn’t once think “there’s no way they’d act that way” because they were all characterized so well as trauma survivors.

- the only things I was like ehhh about were Kenji being a climber (since when??) and Ben having a girlfriend 😂.

- I loved that Darius was living on his own and brand was calling a ton because he was worried about him. Because Darius has only gotten MORE independent, his way of dealing with this problems is having alone time and doing things himself. I LOVE THAT AGGHHH.

- I was disappointed kenji had a new voice actor tho. He didn’t necessarily do a bad job, it was just really distracting for me.

- Not with Brooklyn though, I didn’t notice at all, I just thought Jenna Ortega was going something different now that Brooklyn is older. Her voice actor did so well. I loved all the layers I felt in all the flashbacks.

- One thing tho, I would’ve loved it if Brooklyn was actually dead (although the way they handled it made me REALLY believe she was dead, and I was pretty positive she was alive for most of the show)

- I love brooklyn!! But I do think killing one of the main characters would’ve upped the stakes more. But all of the drama and new dinos did that by itself. I felt on the edge of my seat the whole show!

- I also liked that Brooklyn and Kenji broke up. Might get some hate for that but it’s true. I never shipped it. But this show actually did make me like the ship more if that’s insane. Because I do think the dynamic of “we’re both jokingly egotistical and we bring out each other’s worst sides in a silly way”. I also think kenji needs happiness.

- And while I’m disappointed Ben has an off screen girlfriend, hopefully she shows up as a character later. Or they at least break up so he can have his bisexual king moment (go cry about it)

- I would also love mateo’s daughter becoming a character later, like her being a part of Brooklyn’s secret crew to take down the DPW etc. I don’t usually like the new characters super late in a series, but because of the way they’ve hinted at these characters, it makes me want to see them.

- I think she’d be a hacker or someone like Brooklyn just cause of what we’ve been shown of her.

- One thing I didn’t love, was not getting to see a complete wrapped up conflict. Like, kenji and Darius got better but mostly cause the action distracted them from getting to be genuinely hurt. And ESPECIALLY Sammy and Yaz’s conflict, although by Yaz helping her breathe it did kind of solve the conflict without words. But that’s just me.

- I also thought that Ben should be a lot less well adjusted. He’s had A LOT of trauma throughout the show, basically breaking his entire original archetype and replacing it with a new one. His whole character development was going from being scared and being a burden, to getting immensely used to hurting and living in the wild just to survive. When I originally thought of how he’d be out of the island, I thought he’d really struggle getting into fights to solve his problems, (like when he got into a fist fight with kenji) and being a little too wild for “civilization” (school, work etc.) and not fitting in. We also don’t really know why he’s not in college anymore. Did he graduate? Is he taking a gap year? We saw him in a dorm and it’s only been six years. Wasn’t he like, 15 at the start of the show? Well, I guess he would’ve graduated by then, but idk it depends. We actually have a lot of loose ends I want to be explored, like where is Sammy’s family? Why don’t her parents talk to her anymore? Is it cause she’s gay? I thought she had siblings?? Idk.

- tldr, I want ben to have more violent tendencies because he can’t work through his emotions. Not everyone heals in non harmful way 🤷‍♀️

- also cause I want his pyromania to come back idc if it was a facade to protect himself.

- ALSO IM SO GLAD KENJI’S DAD IS DEAD I ALMOST FORGOT

- AND ALSO IM SHOCKED THEYRE EVEN INSINUATING THAT BROOKLYN IS EVIL NOW CAUSE REMEMBER HOW PISSED SHE WAS AT KENJI FOR DOING BASICALLY THE SAME THING? DAMN, HYPOCRITICAL MUCH?

- BUT IT WOULD BE COOL IF HER MORALS ARE NOW MORE MORALLEY GREY LIKE HATING DINOS OR HURTING PEOPLE FOR THE GREATER GOOD

- LIKE NORMAN FROM THE PROMISED NEVERLAND MANGA OR ROSE QUARTZ

- THATS MY FAVE TYPE OF CHARACTER

- That’s why I liked it so much when Darius said “I don’t chase dinosaurs anymore, just one…” BECAUSE IT INSINUATED HE WANTED TO KILL A DINO WHEN HES A DINO LOVER. Him not liking Dinos as much would’ve been badass but also out of character I guess

- it also made me think of that meme from totally spies “I don’t want to kill all the world! Just half! THE MALE HALF-“

- but omg this made me realize… if his boss that he talked to during that scene was talking to Brooklyn this whole time… if brook asked how Darius was she could’ve told her about how bad he was doing and Brooklyn wouldn’t have been able to tell him at all that it wasn’t his fault.

- although… I’ll be real with u… it totally was. When we found out WHY he wasn’t there? Eyah it was his fault 😭💀. I know that’s horrible it say and if I was him I would’ve done the same (just cause it’s awkward and he wanted to give her space) BUT THAT WAS ALMOST INCEL-LIKE BEHAVIOR FROM HIM, WHAT???

- anyways I made a lot of jokes I might copy and paste in a reblog we’ll see

That’s about it for now. Thanks if you read this far.

@riftwirecrystal tag

[sonicasura]

Transformers Earthspark: Personal Changes

I figured I should write this as I plan to write stuff on it. Transformers Earthspark, an show with interesting concepts despite the mixed execution. I honestly like some of the ideas proposed by it in Season 1 as they aren't actually bad. We rarely get a post war setting for the series since most writers prefer the standard formula and the Terrans hold potential when you remember that Cybertronian are an endangered species whose numbers have only decreased due to war.

This is mainly a simplified list on what changes you'll see in my work involving Earthspark. Points with an asterisk * are new.

Dot doesn't allow her kids to become child soldiers. She wouldn't have a problem if it was self defense lessons as there are people who don't like Cybertronians or will harm her family for the Terrans' nature. Otherwise, the Maltobots are allowed to learn about Cybertron's history and culture.

Megatron is a rogue with the personality of an asshole cat. (Murderous nature partly fizzled out for causing problems to people he dislikes.) The Decepticons had fallen apart after a nasty dispute and gone their own ways. Megatron vanished once GHOST began to hunt any bot not aligned with them. He hides out at the Maltos upon discovering a massive plot that would put all Cybertronian life in danger.

Bumblebee remains rogue as his trust in Optimus is in tatters. He gets involved with the Maltos under the same reason Megatron does and is responsible for the Terrans' self defense training. (Megs handles their history/culture.) Tendency to have war flashbacks.

No Emberstone saves or Prime reverence. Mo is traumatized by Quintus' false reality dream and doesn't like the Cyber Sleeves anymore. Jawbreaker alongside Thrash help with her trauma. Scars are prone to occur alongside the chance of life changing injuries for everyone.

GHOST Autobots have a tense relationship revolving Optimus. This only grows once Bumblebee's current location becomes known. Optimus often questions if he made the right choice as he looks at the unanswered orders involving his rogue Autobots.

Decepticons begin to reform under a new cause. The preservation and protection of the Cybertronian race as GHOST attacks intensify. Starscream leads them under an anti-hero alignment since they will do things the Autobots won't to keep themselves alive. (Think Venom or A-Team.)

Fighting between siblings specifically Robby vs Mo, Twitch vs Thrash, and Jawbreaker finally snaps. I seen potential conflict involving these five that no way in hell is gonna be ignored under my watch. Nightshade and Hashtag act like mediators at times but some fights can't be dissolved so easily.

More enemies for each respective group alongside painful clashes such as Bumblebee vs Optimus. Flora/fauna mutated by Energon, bad Autobots like Pharma/Sunder, and more volatile Decepticons like Astrotrain. No one is having fun when shit hits the fan.

Disabilities like Dot's prosthetic leg are on display. Mandroid slowly gone insane due to Energon poisoning through his experiments as once neutral views regarding Cybertronians were corrupted. First exposure is creation of the Arachnamechs. His students' death amidst the friendly fire tips him over the edge. *

Experiments involving humans and Cybertronians herald by Mandroid. Most of his Energon induced is a result from trying to hybridize both in some way. He eventually forgets about Alex after the second confrontation. Examples: Synthetic blood that boosts healing, skin which repairs through Cybertronian nanites, etc. *

Karen and Agent Schloder are distant with each other. The former isolating herself despite the latter's attempts to reach out. He works at GHOST to keep an eye on her but soon realizes Croft is a lost cause. *

Alex begin to tone down his obsession involving Bumblebee after awhile. He realizes it makes the bot uncomfortable and bring back awful memories. Bumblebee is still Alex's favorite but it is on a healthy level. *

Dad #2 is addressed properly to the Terrans. They learn that not everyone would be okay with the term or might not be someone they can trust. Parental figures is a concept the kids want to understand better so any further issues and discomfort are avoided. *

Terrans are taught Escrima alongside various aspects of Filipino culture. Everyone has their own different style towards the martial art and interests in other cultures were broaden. Dot often picks up books for them. *

The Emberstone is a chaotic manifestation of evolution without proper containment. It often causes trouble for the Maltos by spawning monsters, mutate nearby wildlife or producing twisted visuals for them to adapt against. The last disturbance results in Wheeljack showing up to contain the artifact. *

After the season finale, Twitch remains half blind as her body rejects any replacements offered by both former factions. She learns to live with her disability and alters her Drone alt mode to add a visual guide to further help. It takes quite a while for Twitch to thrive after multiple mishaps. *

That's all I could think of at the moment but will expand the list should more be added or changes are needed.

[deripmaver]

Casca Spits On Your Grave

I was gonna write up a whole long post about what I want Casca's ending to be, what I think is likely based on canon up to now and some of the themes Miura has developed, and look at some endings I've seen people discuss and give my thoughts on them - and then I got lazy LOL.

Plus I realized what I really wanted to discuss is just, as the title suggests, whether I want Casca to have her whole badass revenge arc where she takes out all of the demons and apostles who assaulted her and killed her friends one by one in a show of bloody vengeance, ending with her as Judith beheading Griffith's Holofernes, etc etc etc.

The short answer is yeah duh LOL. Casca goes from a brilliant and capable mercenary commander to a traumatized shell of a person who is terrified of all men, even the ones that she'd known and trusted prior to the Eclipse. In her dreamscape, the horror of what she faced is finally explicitly shown from her point of view - the penis monsters and the feelings of revulsion they produce in her little sprite indicating the terror of repeated assaults and attempted assaults. It's blunt to the point of being over the top but I mean... It gets the point across.

Then, of course, the climactic moment in the corridor of dreams where you see the eclipse rape literally through her eyes. It's incredibly rare to see rape scenes presented that way, in that first person POV, and going from that directly to the image of Casca shattering into pieces makes me tear up even to this day.

Side note lol I probably didn't need to describe the corridor of dreams chapters but I genuinely can't help myself, I love them so much.

In those chapters and the later ones where Casca has her PTSD flashbacks, she remembers all of the beloved memories of the people she loved and is made catatonic again when she remembers she lost them. The corridor of dreams makes it clear that it was Griffith's rape specifically that shattered her. Losing all of the Hawks, being betrayed by Griffith - of course she should get revenge on the monsters that did that to her. One by one she should destroy them, letting them taste just a fraction of what they put her through. Not to mention she was in her regressed state for so long I know I'm not the only one itching for her to fight again.

Here's the "but" though. Or maybe it's more of an "and" idk if any of y'all have done improv LMFAO. Yes and.

I think part of the appeal of rape revenge is that it gives the catharsis of seeing rapists punished violently in a world where they rarely face justice at all. However, what a lot of these movies miss, because this truth is far more uncomfortable and unpalatable, is that the scars of trauma remain even after vengeance is fulfilled. This is especially true if the perpetrator is someone the victim knew, as is the case for Casca. There's the focus on justice and catharsis and violent revenge because in a lot of ways it's easier to stomach that than it is to stomach the how utterly shattering it is to be betrayed so thoroughly.

It's uncomfortable to see Casca the commander reduced to Elaine. It's uncomfortable to see her helpless and terrified and reduced to trembling and sobbing in front of a reborn Griffith as the reader is reminded, just for a moment, of who did this to her. It's uncomfortable that even after her mind is restored that she can't even think of Griffith without going completely catatonic, that she grips Farnese's hand in terror as she sleeps because the trauma is still literal thorns around her heart, continuing to hurt her.

You know what? I think this is objectively good writing. There's no revenge. There's no becoming stronger. There's just grief and betrayal and Casca's broken heart. .........the fact that it took literally 20 years to restore her mind and that Miura included like half a dozen attempted rape scenes of her in her infantilized state is uh, not objectively good writing.

There's a fine line when it comes to writing rape trauma, though, and if Casca stays completely broken and unable to heal that starts leaning into the opposite end of harmful tropes. That's why I do think she should find the strength to fight back and get revenge for herself and her fallen comrades and kill Griffith. However, I can't help but think there's a desire for her to stop appearing so outwardly traumatized and start taking revenge because trauma is uncomfortable to read. Every moment she's on page she reminds you of how deeply Griffith betrayed her. At some point it becomes nearly unbearable.

Miura's grasp of writing trauma is kind of a mixed bag, but one thing he is clearly aware of is how its effects are lingering, and how it informs how someone interacts with the world. This is true in how he writes Guts in the Wounds chapter, and also how he writes Guts after the Eclipse regressing into violence and vengeance because of his trauma. Guts only begins his journey to process the trauma of the Eclipse when he reconnects with Rickert, and then later Casca, and then later accepts companions again. This leads me to believe that this lingering trauma response from Casca isn't an example of him not knowing how to write trauma, or women, but is a deliberate choice and not one I feel the need to critique.

Casca should become a fighter again, and she should start to genuinely heal and, as Miura said, face up to what Griffith and the demons did - but at the end of the day what happened to her is soul-crushing. She should also continue to show the lingering effects of it, and she should get to lean on the communities of women she's cultivated, and she should get to have moments where she's terrified and overwhelmed with trauma - no matter how uncomfortable it is to read. When it comes to depictions of rape and rape trauma, I genuinely think that will be on the whole more holistic than having her just getting revenge.

It'll be really satisfying seeing her kill some apostles though I'm ngl. Hopefully we'll get there eventually LOL

[autistic-sidestep]

lying down thinking very hard abt sidestep trying ortega's cooking for the first time, canonically them liking anything ortega makes, that ortega learnt from tia elena that feeding people is the best way to befriend people and that SO many of their fond memories are food-related. (bumped into overdrive with a sugar vice step!) the necessity of needing to eat a lot to maintain their telepathy helps, ofc!

#Sugar—my brain needs the energy.     One drawback of your telepathic powers is that you need a lot of carbohydrates, and sugar is the easiest way to get them. […] the syrupy drinks you were used to back when [you were at the Farm]…

even chen's memory of a happy sidestep involves food

[non(knowssteelsuspects) tacticianstep] [i]So excited about a milkshake. Laughing with Anathema. The almost childish glee with which ${che} delighted in normalcy. In junk food and music. In movies.[/i]

which is why he stocks the fridge for an ally/friendly step

*label steelfridge (steelshelf true) "Raiding the fridge again?" Steel's voice is too soft for being inside the HQ. […] "Yeah, I'm a regular criminal," you joke, not looking back. Your eyes catch that damn shelf again, with your name clearly on it. There are some beers at the back, as well as assorted snacks. All things you've stolen in the past.

this can even be triggered by marcia from the business base

*label businessstart Sometimes, you pretend that this is what ordinary life must be like. Having a job. A daily routine. Surrounded by normal people, thinking unimportant thoughts. It's a nice enough fantasy, easy to indulge in when you sit sharing a meal with Marcia. She's brought a chili today, not as spicy as you're used to, but for a moment, you're having a flashback to another table, to another shared meal. Familiar laughter. A sense of belonging. You shut your eyes hard, and when you open them, it's Marcia's face you see and not Tía Ortega's. "Was it too hot?" Marcia looks concerned, and you realize your eyes have been tearing up. "I'm fine," you lie, hiding your face as you bite down on a piece of bread. "Thanks for sharing." "A meal is meant to be shared," she says, triggering more memories you don't want.

leading onto comforting spaces and memories with elena and ortega, it's definitely true ortega's strongly associated with food - all their meetups tend to revolve around meals

As do snacks. Is that part of what ${he} learned from ${his} mother? Feed people to make them comfortable, and you suppose the alcohol is mostly for ${him}self. (vice = "sugar") $!{he} always lets you steal ${his} snacks.

"Ooh, they have pancakes." "Pancakes." You shake your head. (*if vice = "sugar") Old memories. You used to eat those together.

What else did you have that wouldn't bring back traumatic memories? Clubs without Anathema, karaoke without Sunstream coming to life on the stage? Dinners with Tía Elena?

(retri epilogue, ortega pov)

Food. When in doubt, always go for food. $!{he} learned that trick at a young age, and it has never steered ${him} wrong.

memorial park meetup

[non alcoholic vice step] "You don't have to talk," ${he} assures you. "But what do you say we get a cup of coffee and a bite to eat?" "Coffee…" You almost laugh, because that's how people work, isn't it? When something uncomfortable happens, make sure to eat or drink something. It will make things better.

hoots

Of course ${he}'d pick a spot like this, [if see_shrink] where ${he} knows you would feel safe, especially after what you just went through. [else] the site of many of your escapades. Familiar. Safe.

"You know what Mamá would have said…." $!{he} wags ${his} finger in the air with a serious look on ${his} face. "If it tastes bad, it's good for you." Your voice is a fair approximation of Tía Elena's; you've heard that sentence often enough. For some reason, she had always been very concerned for your health. Intent on not letting you go hungry.

and ofc, the apartment scene

  "I'd like that," you admit. It sounds good; a little privacy is what you need right now. "Been a while since I ate something homemade."     "I think I still remember your favorites," ${he} says with a chuckle. "Wow. It's been ages since we did this."     "Yeah," you look away to hide your smile. "I miss it."     "So do I." For a moment, you think ${he}'s going to say something else, but ${he} doesn't.     "I like your food," you finally admit, a little lower than needed, because you're not sure how ${he} will react.

*if ((wound = "a severely bitten lower lip") or (wound = "a severely bitten lower lip, and a sore shoulder"))   "Are you sure you're going to be okay eating with that lip?" $!{he} touches ${his} own in sympathy.   "I'm not going to starve," you say with a careful smile. "Just don't make it too spicy."   "But I like spice…," ${he} complains.   "Sucks to be you then."   [*if ortega_friendship >= 75] Your smile softens somewhat. "You can always add it last, just to your portion."

"Any requests?" $!{his} voice is light and airy, clearly attempting to strike a lighter mood. "I like everything you make," you say, with a nonchalant shrug. [...]

It feels surprisingly normal sitting in Ortega's kitchen, one leg pulled up on your chair, watching ${him} cook. You helped cut the vegetables, but once the preparations were done, the stove was all [hers/his]. A familiar routine. It used to be what you did back in the day, maybe not every week, but when you had the time. The smell brings back fond memories [...]

"It's been a long time since we did this." Ortega again, breaking the silence that had been building, putting food on your plates. "Yeah," you admit, wishing it didn't smell so good, wishing the smell didn't take you back. […] "Do you like it?" "You're a good cook but such a sucker for compliments," you say, shoving in another mouthful. "I like it." […] You don't know what to feel as you watch ${him} eat, sharing ${his} table, sharing ${his} food. Sharing ${his} home. $!{his} friendship. $!{his} heart.

epilogue (recovering in chen's apartment + dating ortega)

 "Your kitchen really sucks." Not exactly the smartest thing to say, but ${he}'s never been that good with words when ${he}'s stressed. "You know that, right?"   "I know," Wei sighs, with the long-suffering look he has perfected over the years. "And you know it too. You say it every time you cook here."   "$!{he} cooks here?" [...]   "Occasionally." Wei sits down at last, giving Spoon a scratch before the dog pads back to ${name}'s side. "When ${he} feels I've been eating too badly."   "I know your stomach doesn't always agree with food, but occasionally you just need some homemade caldillo." ${ortega_name} turns back to the stove, glad for the opportunity to busy ${his} hands. The closest thing ${he} can get to meditation, that, and the bike. [...] And everything starts with a delicious dinner. Even if ${he} has to be careful with the chili.   $!{he}'s made worse sacrifices.

of course ortega learned it all from tia.

 "Not Ortega?" Steel sounds surprised, which is annoying. Are you that predictable?     "You know Tía Ortega. Dishes get done in that household." You can't help but smile at the memory. Another life. Another world. Did you use to be happy once?

[...]

Once upon a time, [if ortega_former ally] you were a frequent guest at [Elena's] house // [else] you were close. Back when she lived in the city. Invited into her home, at her dinner table. Hugs. Friendly laughter.

[...]

But it would also mean meeting her again. Stepping back into the past, being soft, loved, cared for, and you…you're not the same. Ortega hasn't told her about you for a reason.

i just.... augHHH. food as love.

[vickozone]

The Magnus Archives

-S5 Notes-

<- previous notes

Handwriting translated below:

#161 old memories, tape that Gertrude should have gave them, Jon says “I love you”, they don’t need to eat to live

#162 Gertrude and Gerry bonding, Tim and Sasha talking about a very relevant subject and Jon and Martin are leaving the safe house.

#163 [VIETNAM FLASHBACKS] [BAGPIPES INTENSIFY]

#164 Gross statement about an infection in a town and Helen talking to Jon and Martin like a proud aunt is beautiful. “I knew you crazy kids would make it work!”

#165 “Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing.” The Stranger statement. Not!Sasha messed up!!

#166 Martin suddenly is on a murder episode and a dude turned into a worm. Helen says “Slay!”

#167 “Yes, Martin, you are my reason.” Sweet bonding and why Gertrude didn’t have anymore assists.

#168 “I’m not going to kill a man just because you’re jealous!” “Why not?” Oh, Martin. Oliver Banks shall live another day and we are crossing The End domain

#169 Let’s willingly run into a burning building, disregarding your boyfriend and getting revenge together! Jude is now dead and Martin was just struggling in the background. He chose revenge over his boyfriend. Interesting. “We’re burning!”

#170 “I’m Martin Blackwood, and I am not lonely anymore!” “Oh… Hello!”

#171 No way I just spent 23 minutes listening to Jon talk about skin flowers in a botanical garden. “That your boyfriend?” “It is, actually.” “Oh.”

#172 Creepy theatre show that made me genuinely uncomfortable with The Web

#173 Where do you think all of the children went? That’s right! The Dark with Callum! Yay!

#174 Simon calling Jon killing him “rude” is hilarious and immediately dipping is iconic. Weird Vast domain with big explosions. Helen loves some good gossip.

#175 The Extinction items, hate for umbrellas, and Martin’s squelchy couch. We’re going to The Hunt next. Oh no.

#176 Adoptive uncle Trevor and Julia are dead. AWESOME HUNT STATEMENT! And we got Basira! :D

#177 ‘Dr. David’ Jon is so hot. This episode has so many trigger warnings. Helen is so silly. Basira is rad, staying with her boys. Won’t let them have a moment tho

#178 More Flesh. Gross processing line and Jon admits that the thing that traumatized him the most was Daisy going to kill him in the woods. Poor babies.

#179 Daisy is shot and killed. Basira is on her own and I have a reason to give Jon a cane.

#180 I have never felt more serene in my life. I can’t even describe it. I was smiling, giggling, and everything feels okay. Salesa and Annabelle are here and I love Salesa’s voice and HE CAN PLAY THE PIANO! Teaholding fluff, om nom nom, this episode is one of my favorites. The I-Spy game <3

#181 They decide to stay at Upton House for a bit longer before leaving. Jon feels his powers again and forgets the whole experience of ignorance. Pity. Seemed like a nice place. I like Salesa.

#182 Anatomy Class student hospital and Breekon asks Jon to kill him. I feel bad for him. :(

#183 “I’m sure I love you.” “I love you too.” THEY SAID IT!! Helen was concerned for them. She’s like a wine aunt who acts motherly to them. Also, Martin’s domain…

#184 Jon made Jordan an entity. That’s a lotta ants! Jon is just… so complicated.

#185 Ouch. Police brutality and wrongful imprisonment are rough subjects. That guy pleading out to Martin HURT. Martin is… somewhere at the end. Alone again, oh, Jonny, I feel horrible.

#186 Martin went from being a joke in Jon’s anger to being one of the most well-developed characters. He is either going to kill himself of Jon. Martin legit talks to himself. Statement made me cry. This better end with them being happy together.

#187 HELEN! D: Aw, man… I liked her. That poor woman. Calm down, Jon! Helen was their friend till the end. Dang it, that was a nail-biter.

#188 We’re in London now! Eyes, man. They’re everywhere. We grieve for Helen a bit. Did I mention EYES?

#189 MEL AND GEORGIE! OMG! They… made a cult and can hide from The Eye. Great.

#190 Fresh take on modern dating! Antichrist plus one! Archivist mocks poems, beloved pet turned monster, and a blind prophet

#191 Jon sleeps with his eyes open. Georgie wants to avenge her cat (I think I’ve seen this film before), mystery can, and Jon and Martin discuss death. Sobbing atm.

#192 Rosie is literally just going with the flow. It’s weird to see someone else’s perspective on things. Jonah’s incantation is awesome and gosh, I love Martin

#193 Elias 'high as a kite' Bouchard’s origins. Jonah’s distorted voice is hot.

#194 THEY HAD AN ARGUMENT D: After a gruesome metamorphosis statement, Jon tried to find Martin to apologize only to find he was taken to HILL TOP FREAKIN ROAD

#195 Just Basira and Jon, catching up and trudging through water. Omg. The Mr. Spider tape.

#196 Earth shattering rip-in-space time crap. Annabelle is wicked cool. Martin keeps getting sucked into things AND THE TAPES!! ASDFEKGLZMV

#197 MARTIN! ANNABELLE! TAPES! THE LIGHTER! INTER-DIMENSIONAL PIT! WE NEED TO DESTROY JONAH AND THE EYE SIMULTANEOUSLY! LES GO!

#198 If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you too? Ew, bones reforming. Chill ep. Silly.

#199 Group agrees on plan after ten minute discussion. Martin consulting Jon while he cries in his arms HURT!! Also, Mel thanks Jon. This is going to end horribly, isn’t it?

#200 Statement ends.

Crying tally: |||| |||| (I cried ten [10] times listening to this stupid podcast)

[star-going-supernova]

Prompt: After vanessa is freed from ol' peepaw willy's control. One day, Gregory just sorta offhandedly comments "by the way, you had a real crappy knife as Vanny". Vanessa, understandably, questions how he knows this. Gregory proceeds to drag her to the store to buy a 4 buck knife, victoria brand (because i recently got one and omg that's sharp). Vanessa is now glad that Vanny was kind of a dummy. (I thought this could be funny!)

Basic implant background for Vanessa here! This is silly, lol.

Critique

It started with a movie trailer in which a character was shown attacking a friend because of mind control. It was all rising drama as the second character desperately tried to break their friend free without hurting them while still trying to defend themself. It struck a sour note in Vanessa. 

Had any of her victims, Gregory or otherwise, tried to snap her out of it? Begged for her to wake up, for her not to hurt them? Would they have known to? She didn’t remember enough from those months, her memory scattered and patchy. 

“You must have been so scared,” she murmured, almost without noticing. She immediately tensed when Gregory turned to look at her; That Night had been one of the Things We Don’t Talk About since it happened, and the last thing she’d meant to do was break that unspoken agreement.

But Gregory just made a dismissive noise. “Not really.” 

“Not—not really?” 

He sent her a half pitying, half apologetic look. “You were a really incompetent murderer, is all.” 

And despite how unbelievably stupid it was, Vanessa found herself mildly offended. “Excuse me?” 

Gregory sighed, put-upon. “Forget I said anything.” 

Vanessa did not, instead leaning forward to mute the TV. “No, no, we’re having this conversation. And I’m sorry for bringing it up—for making you uncomfortable, but—”

“Uncomfortable? What are you talking about?”

She gestured at him. “I don’t exactly want to make you relive a traumatic experience.” 

He stared at her blankly for a second, but before she could start to worry that he was having a flashback or something, he snorted, amused. “Ness, I hate to break it to you, but I didn’t find that night in the pizzaplex particularly traumatizing.” 

“You—what? But we, we have that silent agreement not to talk about it!” 

“Yeah. Because you get all self-loathing and thousand-yard-stare-y when you’re reminded of it.” 

“I—” Vanessa cut herself off, narrowing her eyes. Did she get like that? “But—your nightmares?”

He bit his lip, and she got the impression he was trying not to laugh at her. “I’ve never had a nightmare about you or the pizzaplex, actually.” 

“But I—your insomnia, the way you’re so tired in the morning sometimes, and sometimes you fall asleep with the light on!” 

“I have friends in other time zones,” he explained. “And what kid doesn’t stay up to all hours on YouTube? You wouldn’t believe how many theory videos are out there about Fazbear Entertainment and all the murders and stuff.” 

The murders. Her murders? Were there more murders committed by other murderers? 

They stared at each other for a long minute, Vanessa’s worldview shifting in multiple different directions and Gregory placidly watching it happen. 

“Okay, we’ll—come back to that, maybe, but—sorry, just. Let’s circle back to incompetent murderer. The hell does that mean?” 

“Let me put it simply: you dedicated six-plus hours to trying to kill me… and now I live in your house.” 

Vanessa slumped into the couch cushions, unable to argue. 

To add insult to injury, Gregory started counting off a list of incompetencies on his fingers. “Your costume was frankly comical with its bug-eyes and buckteeth and weird smile. I have to assume the mask severely limited your vision with the amount of times you just completely missed me despite me being right in front of you. You had no sense of urgency with the way you were skipping around, and you made it extremely easy to avoid you because you had no concept of stealth or subtlety. Using the animatronics to help you might have been a half decent idea if doing so hadn’t dumbed them down so much. An actual dog would’ve been better at tracking me.” 

She opened her mouth to interject, but he kept going. 

“The one time you did get close to me, you were so dead-set on maintaining the stupidest cover ever that you practically let me get away. I mean, seriously, who were you trying to fool? So what if I, the kid you were going to kill, knew Vanessa and Vanny were one and the same? And despite having an entire building’s worth of security cameras at your fingertips, you never used them to find me, and the door locks were useless with all the keycards laying around. Admittedly, that’s not entirely your fault, but as a murderer, I think you should’ve been more meticulous about that. And the worst part—”

This roast against her mind-controlled self got worse? 

“—your knife was a piece of crap.” 

A few seconds ticked by as Vanessa’s brain tried to take in his criticisms without thinking of them as points that she needed to improve upon. “What was so bad about my knife?” she asked, perhaps a bit too petulant.

Gregory shrugged. “It was a standard kitchen knife, which wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve chosen. But it clearly hadn’t seen a sharpener in way too long.” 

“How would you know?” Because, admittedly, it wasn’t like she’d ever gotten close enough for him to learn firsthand anything about her knife. 

He sucked in through his teeth, faux apologetic. “Another point against you,” he teased. “I stole your knife around 4:30 and you apparently didn’t even notice.” 

“You didn’t. You didn’t!” 

“I did!” His smile turned smug. “And I never gave it back.” 

“You still have it?” Vanessa asked. Was that something to be concerned about? Especially since he had such a clear idea of what made a person a good or bad murderer. 

“Duh. And you’re not getting it back now. It’s part of my collection.” 

Terrifying little menace. Vanessa looked back at the TV and unmuted it. Her thoughts swirled. 

A few minutes later, she huffily turned to Gregory again, smacking the couch cushion as she did, and loudly said, affronted, “Incompetent. Incompetent? Me? Really?” 

Gregory immediately bursting into laughter didn’t help her outrage.