#freeze is a horrible trauma response i hate hate hate hate this

[lith-myathar]

*typing into google* how to stop defaulting to literally hiding and ceasing all activity outside of media consumption as a means of self-regulation even though you know it DOESN'T WORK

[jianhue]

Information about William !! (Moral Orel oc)

Stuff you should know !

1. My English is HORRIBLE. I don't have the greatest vocabulary so most of my sentences are repetitive

2. His information might change over time.

3. Uhh idk if this needs any warning but there is some topics about trauma and stuff so watch out for that

4. This is written informally lol

5. I made this around midnight, there's some mistakes

Text form:

Basic information:

Name: William Boltspin

Age: 36

Occupation: Psychologist

Height: 5’11

Habits: over analysing people’s small gestures, thinking out loud, tripping on nothing when nervous, fidgeting, freezing when in put into a tight spot

Hobbies: Reading, watching stuff go down

Introduction:

Will is introduced as a new person in town. He recently moved in, and since nobody was willing to show him around, Orel did. But in a typical Moral Orel episode, something happens. In the good will of Orel, he shared a little too much. This kind of scared Will out, but he still stayed in the town. Mostly because he was fascinated by how the town was old-school. At first, he got along with the townspeople, but they soon realised they had different principles and ideals.

Seeing how he wasn't really attending the daily sermons, Orel took it upon himself to invite him to church. Will isn't really the type to go to church daily, but seeing how everyone was going and how eager Orel was to get him to attend the sermons, he started attending daily too. After an episode focusing on his move, he became a typical side character, only showing up on screen for a few scenes or just in the background.

Show appearances:

During season 1, aside from his little worries and complaints about the children in town having too much freedom, Will is seen acting fairly normal. He's been seen in church, walking to the doctor’s office, etc. Most of his appearance is just him passing by; sometimes he gives out advice that is a bit too vague.

In season 2, his concerns grow, and he starts to disagree with some of the other characters. He doesn’t get along with Reverend Putty much, but he does tolerate him. Will offers to babysit some of the children, mostly doughy or shapey. It’s mostly because he sees signs of neglect. Unfortunately, he does have work of his own, so he isn’t always there for them.

Upon learning about his profession, some started to doubt his faith. He still attends church even with people talking about him, and his only reason is because of Orel. Will does try to correct the behaviour of some people, but when he gets a bad response (which happens every time), he takes it back. Sometimes, mostly by accident, he does the same thing he criticises people for. Telling people not to yell in front of children or to not show any bad behaviour they can pick up.

He still bonds and gives some proper advice to Orel, but makes sure to keep him at arm's length. He’s afraid of being dragged into the things Orel does. But in an episode, he finally had the courage to join Orel. He follows him around and secretly does things so they avoid trouble. But of course, trouble does happen. Before Orel was taken to Clay’s study room, they made eye contact. Will felt responsible since he was an adult and he was around Orel the whole time. Even though he felt immense guilt, he was still too afraid to intervene. He mouthed the words “I’m sorry, Orel.” In the end, he became a bystander. Something he wished he never would be.

Season 3 is where Will’s mental health starts to deteriorate. He feels guilty for being so hypocritical. Feeling responsible for kids he isn’t even related to has taken a toll on him. Other adults also started to vent out their problems to him at the bar, hoping for some advice from Will.

His last scene is Orel finding him sitting at an alley next to Forghetty’s Bar. Will was drunk and cried to Orel about everything he hated, even calling Clay a bastard right in front of him. After that furious rant he calmed down and started muttering about how he “didn’t want to be like this” and that he’s sorry for being such a horrible person, a bystander, a hypocrite, a coward, a person he can’t rely on. He picks up his glasses and apologises before realising who he was dumping all his problems to. It was Orel. A child. He remembers his promise to himself, never burden a child with your problems. Not even as an accident. Not knowing what to do, he just froze and cried.

After that scene, Will would be seen avoiding children. He’s seen more often in the bar, mostly in the background or puking at the corner.

Upbringing:

As a kid, Will would be told to turn a blind eye to things that were not his business. Around his teenage years, he would witness a violent crime, but instead of helping, he just pretended he didn’t see anything and walked away. The person would later be found dead. Will couldn’t take it; he felt extreme guilt, blaming himself for not saving them or even just calling the police.

His mother also had violent outbursts, venting her problems to her son. He felt responsible for her, so he just took everything. Beatings, berating, everything. Will basically took care of her. His mother was a very judgmental woman, whispering to him about people around his neighbourhood. Will gaslights himself to think that it’s just his mother’s way of showing concern and affection. When he finished college, his mother passed away. He never actually bothered to find his father because his mother told him, “It’s not worth finding that bastard of a man." Will just followed what his mother said. But in the end, his own mother’s last words were, “I fucking hate that face of yours. You’re a spitting image of that fucking bastard.”

He already knew his mother actually hated him. He just denied it. But hearing it straight from her just made him lose it. Will swore to never treat a child like his mother did to him.

[blitzwhore]

Ask game! :D

What, in general, is your favorite fear response in a character:

Fight (physically or verbally attacking whatever is scaring you, or making yourself look bigger/aggressive to scare it away, examples are Blitz in Full Moon in the ballroom and Loona after seeing the Hellbies shot)

Flight (running away from or otherwise trying to remove yourself from a scary situation, examples are Stolas in Full Moon in the hallway and later when he portals Blitz away, as well as Octavia when she hides in LooLooLand)

Freeze (being unable to move or extreme indecisiveness when scared, an example is Moxxie in episode 1 when he can't shoot the picture)

Fawn (trying to appease whoever is scaring you, common in abuse victims, an example is Stolas' text messages about Ozzie's and in episode 2 when Stella is yelling at him)

Or flop (fainting/playing dead when scared)?

Hi! That's a very interesting question. I really love seeing all the different survival responses explored in media, but if I had to choose a favourite, I'd go with fight. It's the one that hits closest to home and the one that I see well represented the least. And, if I may get a little personal, as someone who's endured abuse, it has been the hardest to come to terms with and forgive myself for.

It can be so hard to accept that your fight response didn't make you as bad as the person/people who hurt you. That having a fight response didn't make you any less terrified, any less cornered, any less traumatised. That you behaved like that not because you're horrible, out of control, beyond help, "just as bad", or unlovable, but because you were scared. You were, or felt, so helpless that your safety and very life felt like they were on the line. And that fucks you up, and makes you act in ways you never thought you could, which you then have to live with for the rest of your life.

And it can be especially hard to forgive yourself for having a fight response against people who weren't your abusers. People who came after, and who tried to love you when you were too in survival mode to trust that love. People who didn't deserve you lashing out at them. People who couldn't have known they were going to trigger you, who couldn't have known that your body only had this one strategy to keep itself from getting hurt again. Even if you apologise, explain, make amends, and are forgiven, your fight response (and what it made you do, or want to do) can make you truly hate yourself. It can make you hate yourself as much as you believe others must hate you, because all you see when you look at yourself is your own abuser, and so how could others see anything different?

So yes, I love, love, love it when media explores a character's fight response in a nuanced way—a way that clearly shows there were care and love put into the character's story.

When it comes to the examples you provided, what I love most about Loona's fight response in Western Energy is how understanding Blitz is of her. At every single point in the episode, he prioritises her needs and well-being, shows her compassion and comfort, communicates her needs to the doctor, and always tries to make sure her fear is taken into account and accommodated. I love that he never makes Loona feel like a burden or a bad person for being afraid, and that he loves her unconditionally and unwaveringly through her entire fight response, even after getting beat up. (I also love how funny the whole scene at the doctor's is 😂).

And, in The Full Moon, I love the way Blitz just suddenly... explodes. I find that, sometimes, trauma can make you want to avoid addressing any problems you might have in your relationships (which Blitz clearly has been doing, per his own words) because it's easier to let them fester than have to face them and put yourself in a vulnerable position. But then, when you are forced to face those things and go into fight response, you suddenly burst, and the next second, all your fear and hurt are spilling out of your mouth, as well as every horrible and destructive thought you've ever had about the other person but never wanted them to know about. Your filter completely gone as your emotions pour out, and out, and out.

I also love how the lighting, the sound effects, and Blitz's body language all work together to accentuate every single word he's saying and how much he's hurting as he speaks. I love how raw and ugly and uncomfortable and real it all feels. He's upset. He's angry. He feels wronged. But above all, he's terrified. And the scene does not shy away from just how unpleasant his fight response is. There's no sugar coating. No immediate comfort afterwards. Just real, raw, painful terror and shame and trauma (on both sides, not just Blitz's). It's perfect.

[nestaismommy]

Nestas experienced far less than everyone else has and has barely ever done anything, trust me when I say Feyre and other characters have a way more complex storyline 😂 Just because they aren’t mean and lash out at others doesn’t mean they aren’t “VERY” complex

ACOTAR series spoilers.

Y’all say this but I promise you, if you experienced even half of the things Nesta went through, you wouldn’t even be able to handle it. She has experienced trauma ever since she was a CHILD. She was abused & controlled by her mother and grandmother. Then she had to experience her mom’s death. Oh and she was neglected her whole life by her parents. Then poverty. Then her father’s death right in front of her. Oh and she was sexually assaulted. Then dumped into the cauldron (imagine how fucking scary it is to get taken from your home & dumped inside this ancient thing where it’s dark and freezing) and being turned into something she hated which, lead to her hating herself even more. Then, locked up and getting her choices taken away from her AGAIN. Not because she didn’t go through 19282992938 years of trauma, doesn’t mean her trauma is less worse than others. Trauma is still trauma. All of THAT is horrible. And if you have never experienced what she went through, then you have NO right to talk about how bad trauma is. Because trust me, it’s horrible. It’s like you’re comparing someone who went through SA to someone who was abused as a child. They are BOTH horrible. And by the way, everyone has different trauma responses. You can’t control how your trauma makes you feel, especially if you’ve experienced it as a child. Especially when you’ve always been treated with so much cruelty, you tend to become cruel too because that’s the only thing you know. And let’s not forget that POVERTY can change you a lot. And I never said Nesta was more complex than the others because she’s rude. Let’s not make shit up.

Nesta has done A LOT. She has done MORE than enough. She was the only person who went looking for Feyre when Tamlin took her. She then proceeded to tell Feyre to stay with Tamlin and to never come back. She HELPED the inner circle even though all they did was judge her when she did NOTHING to them (except for Feyre. She’s the only one who deserves an apology). In the high lords meeting, she opened up about what happened to her to help them. This woman shielded Cassian’s body, and was ready to die WITH him. She helped kill the king of Hybren (thanks Elain), she went on the suicidal missions the inner circle couldn’t go to etc. and let’s not forget how her WHOLE life she did everything she could to protect Elain. That woman stood in front Elain when the three huge Illyrian showed up KNOWING she doesn’t have a chance against them. And she then, gave up her powers to save Feyre. And Yk what? Feysand should’ve stayed dead. Literally the thing that I hated the most about ACOSF is what Nesta did for them. But either way, she is BRAVE. And even when she’s afraid, she doesn’t show it.

I always say that the people who hate Nesta are valid because she was in fact, shitty. Feyre didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But let’s not act like the others didn’t do worse. Y’all will do anything to defend abusers & assaulters like your life depends on it but when someone is mean, you invalidate their trauma and act like they insulted your mom. It’s ok to hate them but why invalidate their trauma? And it’s so funny how people say the others went through “worse” when actually, Nesta’s trauma & problems are pretty similar to the other characters. Especially Rhysand. Nesta was SA’d, she was willing to use her body when she was like 14, and Rhysand did the same UTM. Rhysand’s sister & mom died, Nesta’s father & mom died. She also watched her sister get thrown into the cauldron. Rhysand watched his mate die & was ready to die with her, and Nesta almost watched Cassian die & she was gonna die with him. Nesta hides behind a mask, Rhysand hides behind a mask. Rhysand hates himself, Nesta hates herself. Cassian’s mom was murdered, Nesta’s father was murdered in front of her. So her problems are actually pretty similar to theirs.

Also let’s not forget that we got multiple books about Feyre but we only got ONE book about Nesta. I don’t think her story ended yet. And I’m hoping it didn’t, because her book was shit.

Overall, this is my opinion. If you disagree then too bad.

[samithemunchkin]

Keegan and Sage headcanons

ok ok I've finally sort of thought of few. Just generic headcanons and set in the fics I've written with them. Still have no idea what I'm doing, pls I'm so open for any questions, suggestions anything at all. Don't know if I should do a relationship headcanon one.

Keegan

Horrible childhood, still haven’t figured it out fully because I keep veering into the same ideas I already have for Mitchell and I wAnT iT tO bE different

Ran away when he was 15, he might have been lanky but already tall and being abused made him pass as an 18 year old so he could enlist

Operation Sand Viper was his first actual mission, kinda got assigned by accident but they were lacking manpower and didn’t look too closely who they sent

Pretty much had an absolute meltdown once the fighting died down and Rorke was the one who found him first 

Trauma bonding and admiration and boom, Keegan felt like Rorke acted way more like an actual father than his own ever had

Rorke found out his actual age but instead of outing him, he offered to find him a place in the Marines to get a few more years of actual training under his belt before he’d let Keegan join Ghosts full time

During Operation Return to Sender, Rorke had made Keegan attend some mandated Marine training, idk quite how it all works but completing it would make him a sergeant, hence why he wasn’t with the rest of them.

And boy did that leave him with terrible guilt/anger/even more trauma

Became more stoic and withdrawn after that

Man hasn’t probably eaten a single home cooked meal in his life, doesn’t know what healthy eating means, would probably hiss at vegetables and fruits. He’s lived fine on bland mush and MRE’s so far and would be a giant baby about trying actual foods

Craves physical touch, pats on the back, hugs, will inwardly melt at praise but doesn’t exactly know how to express that need

Human furnace

Hates his scars

Adores cats, will try to befriend all the strays at whatever base he’s at

Also likes dogs

Basically any animal tbh, likes how he doesn’t have to talk to them, just his attention and affections are enough

Does not want to lead, hates the pressure and responsibilities, it’s why he’s never wanted to raise in rank any higher than a sergeant

Touchy drunk but there are three stages of it, beer makes him loose and touchy, hard alcohol makes him touchy and horny, red wine will make him touch the ground because his legs stop working

Sage

Grew up on a farm, had a few horses and had fully planned to follow her parents’ footsteps and take over the farm at one point, even went to agriculture school and all

But after graduation she decided to enlist to the US Army

Little brother also in the army

Got injured pretty badly during one mission, haven’t really figured out the exact scenario but her actions saved her unit and/or civilians or something, while she was recovering Elias contacted her to ask her if she’d like to join his team

Whatever the mission was, it involved some bad people that still live so as to protect her family, she asks Elias if her file and all records of her service can be destroyed, hence why she only goes by her call sign

Quiet but friendly and sarcastic 

Analyses everything. And I mean everything, always thinking, observing, notices minuscule details

Quickly becomes someone who everyone go to for advice or just to talk

Likes to tinker and do things with her hands, if there’s any renovation needed to be done at any base they’re at she’s more than willing to help out on her free time

Is not used to touch but doesn’t flinch away from it either

Also loves animals, they had plenty of them on the farm

Has absolutely horrid circulation, is always freezing and it only gets worse once she starts taking medications for her ataxia

Has always been a bit of accident prone

Has a big indent on her right thigh from being kicked by horses on it twice. There’s just basically a hole in her thigh muscle with raised edges

Likes how the team feels like a family but it’s constantly vary that bad things can happen at any time to any of them so she’s almost afraid to enjoy it fully

No matter how much she drinks alcohol, she will not appear drunk. She can be black out drunk and none would be the wiser until she pukes or manages to pass out on her bed. Not a chance that she’d let herself pass out anywhere else

[galaxythreads]

Lore for Black, white, and grey all over pls. read it recently and loved it very VERY MUCH

Your wish is my command, Anon!!

LORE FOR BLACK, WHITE, AND GREY ALL OVER <- LINK TO STORY

Pinterest Board

The title is a nod to old prison uniforms in the U.S. that were black and white which when mixed together make grey.

It's also a nod toward this horrible joke that traumatized me a bit as a kid (I was very sensitive) "What's black, white, and red all over?" "A penguin that just fell down the stairs."

Yes, it did take me a year to write this stupid thing

I wrote the first scene completely by hand

(Hold while I go try to find that. update: Could not. Moving on.)

I did a lot of research on being released from prison before writing this and I still feel i fell short in many aspects

TOTAL PAGE COUNT: 91

^^^ final finish time. (yes, i do always put this into the actual documents for the fics and have done this for years)

---

"This is their fault, and she hates them for it.

Forgiveness is a dream, and acceptance a joke.

That's it. Nothing more, nothing less."

^^

this was added after the final edit when I wrote the last few sentences and realized that I needed a tie-in

---

^^^

hello hi, my boy my beloved. (CBS Elementary, detective Marcus bell)

---

"'I'm so sorry we're late!' her stepmother exclaims, coming to stop in front of her. Her father's gripping a walking stick, though she has her doubts that he really needs it. His steal blue eye settles on her face, and Hela pointedly flicks her gaze away from him."

^^

Fun fact, this sequence is actually based off of one of the openings for a draft of Igniting Fire (one where for some reason Isabella was an angry french lady. The draft had problems from the start)

---

"A locked up animal, put away until she might offer further use."

''So I am know more then another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me?'' (Thor 1)

---

"Thor is what? Twenty now? Twenty-one? Loki seventeen or sixteen. She has lost so much time to these walls. Ten years. Years. Not months, not weeks, but years. Oh, how she can't wait to get off of the U.S.'s soil. She hates it here."

^^

The big time mess was a huge part of Hela's trauma response. She doesn't know how old her brothers are anymore and isn't aware that there's a war going on with her home country, this is the cost of her incarceration and the fact her parents weren't inclined to share this with her is what caused a lot of the friction.

---

At least, it is amusing until he turns to her and says, in what she's certain is without much thought: "You're the foreign princess that killed all those people ten years ago—Lady Death? That's you?"

This. *deep sigh*

I am christian and have been since birth, and one of the things in my sect of christiandom is that we have this really weird...thing against calling anyone a god, even if it's just as a title. (I now find that stupid and silly and am perfectly fine using god as a title/description for a being). I had the hardest time coming to terms with the fact that it could be goddess of death. This wasn't so much a modern adaption of the title -- although it certainly works great -- and more so me being too afraid to step outside of the comfort zone of my religion. it literally felt like I was endorsing the devil. Which is also why a lot of my older works are kinda. Weird sometimes about language. (I tell people that reading my older fics to now is watching me graduate high school and grow up and yeah. still true.)

MOVING ON.

---

"His yellow eyes settle on her, and she feels some relief in the familiarity of that. The infection that took his eyesight before she was born left his irises a sickly yellow color;"

I sincerely doubt that this is possible medically but I'll give it a pass for the Aesthetic TM.

---

Thor looks up at their mother, blowing out a breath, "It's freezing. Can we go?"

I will always defend Thor and Loki not throwing themselves at Hela with hugs and gratitude in this scene until the day I die. Hela is a stranger to them. A stranger who, according to their parents, is a mass murderer.

(Who somehow only served ten years in prison????????????????????)

---

Her stepmother gives her shoulder a quick squeeze—can she stop doing that!?—and smiles reassuringly, "I'm sorry, it's been a long day. They really are glad to see you, I promise."

^^^

Personal note (these stories are riddled with my life, ha, it's always personal), my dad has this habit of always engaging in physical contact whenever he sees me, a touch on the shoulder, pat on the back, etc, and i'm not much of a physical touch person. So that's where this is from.

---

Odin inserts the key into the house and twists it, pushing open the door to the home and steps inside without any restraint. He leans against his walking cane again, but Hela can clearly see nothing is wrong with his leg. It's for show.

^^

I haven't read this story in years, so I can't remember if this made it in there, but Odin's cane is a direct reference to this from BBC's Sherlock.

(update: It did NOT in fact, make it in there)

where you just carry weapons around in your umbrella. Like a normal person.

---

"Six months. Six. And no one bothered to mention this to her before then!? Hela's eyes narrow with frustration and she clenches her fists deeply, "You've been in the US for half a year and didn't think it important to mention to me?" she doesn't bother with keeping her voice calm."

^^^

Yknow. I'm beginning to realize just how terrible odin and frigga are in this. Huh. Half a year and they didn't tell Hela anything or visit her. Pro parenting technique.

---

But really, that's all Odin's good at, isn't it? Abandoning people when they need him.

^^^

HELA.

(but also. TRUE.)

---

"Aunt Freya and Uncle Buri agreed to rule before we left. The citizens are those that forced us out." Frigga explains, rubbing at her forehead softly. "Given a choice, I'm certain that all of us would gladly return to help fend off Laufey, but we can't. 

^^^

I do not mean to poke holes in my own story, but this...makes about as much sense as Anna from Frozen dumping the kingdom onto Hans, whom she'd known for about 3 hours.

---

"You claimed him just as much as I." Frigga's voice is ice. "You would do well to remember that it wasn't my decision to keep the adoption a secret from him."

^^^

also beginning to realize this is where my portrayal of Frigga and Odin being a couple that fight all the time started. Depending on my mood, Odin and Frigga CAN strike me as a couple who argue 99% of the time and make you wonder why they don't just get a divorce. But then the 1% of the time makes you realize why they're married.

---

Hela blinks. "You are an idiot."

Odin draws back, "Beg pardon?"

^^^

I love her, your honor.

---

Hela has shifted to sitting on the porch, varying between moodily glaring into the trees or tracing shapes on the cement padding at the bottom of the steps with a bark chip she found two hours ago. She was never much of an artist before she left Asgard, and that hasn't changed since her prison sentence.

^^^

bark-chip drawing on cement was a very serious thing when I was a kid. It was kinda like chalk. Pretty fun. If you ever get the chance to try it, would recommend.

---

She picks up the plastic fork with her left hand, balancing the paper plate on her knees. If she grips anything with her swollen fingers, she doesn't think it will end well. She stuffs in mouthful of salad and once she's swallowed, asks, "And who sent you out to feed the monster?"

^^^

this is a reference to that one post about a girl whose dad slid chocolate underneath her door when she was having her period (or could also have been a person who menstruates, but I think it was a female) and then loudly screeched "I fed the monster" and ran off.

(90% of my sense of humor is tumblr posts on Pinterest, okay?)

---

"Is there a day that you won't forget this?"

Thor grabs the device and offers a sheepish smile, "I don't think so."

Her youngest brother sighs, "You're hopeless."

"Overbearingly." Thor agrees and manages to shove the laptop into the backpack with considerable strain. "Thank you again, brother."

^^^

Guess who intentionally forgot their laptop every day to have some form of an interaction with their distressed sibling???

---

Frigga's gentle face falls some, but she nods anyway with a plastered smile. "That's alright. If you get hungry just grab whatever's available. Except the peanut butter, because Thor hoards it. Sometimes I fear he'll start a war for it."

^^^

THIS. (my fics are FILLED with inside jokes, I'm realizing) is a reference to a fic I read where Thor shoved a peanut butter jar(? unclear) down the drain and clogged the sink and flooded an apartment. Can't remember the exact fic and I am too lazy to look.

---

When Hela was eleven and war was still spoken of quietly and ignored in favor of happier times? No, not then, because Hela's birth mother was murdered in the streets of Serenity, their capital, when she was eleven.

A slaughter worthy of history books. There was so much blood, enough to drown a building in. People often forget that Hela was there, and she saw everything. Odin wasn't. He only saw the aftermath, but Hela...Hela watched Laufey's blade swing and her mother give out that ragged gasp and her own voice crying out "mama!" before it all went south.

^^^

Reference to Porcelain where the same thing happens to Hela.

---

Outside is hot, but it's better. There's noise. Cars in the distance, children screaming as they play, lawnmowers (what is it with people's perpetual desire to care for their lawns at all hours of the day?), and basic white noise. It's disorienting after hearing nothing but the prison for so long, but not unwelcome.

^^^

I will NEVER EVER EVER EVER cease to make angry commentary about lawns and lawnmowing.

---

Ten years of her life wasted for those deaths.

^^^

I am now realizing that Hela probably would have had diplomatic immunity for the deaths. Which means Odin really did leave her there. That's nice.

---

"No husband? At this age?" Mrs. Debar's hold on her rose cutters has loosened. She's not as wary. Something in Hela gives a hollow snapping noise as the question. She'd wanted marriage, but Odin had insisted that it wait until after the war cooled down. She didn't have a particular man in mind, anyway, but she'd wanted it. To start a family, to have a partner that would be hers—and she couldn't. Because she got stuck here, and who would want to marry the insane, murderous, Lady Death? She's been in prison now. No one will want her.

^^^

Two things:

-I will die on the hill that Hela is lesbian -Mrs. Debar is the embodiment of conservative, I think. Or a Karen.

---

I am really enjoying movie dialog woven into this. It's well done.

*pats myself on the back* you're doing amazing sweetie.

---

"Alright, well, I'll be back around six to check on you." Frigga says with a tight smile. "I'll go see if Loki will help me with the cooking. I'm trying to make this meal called lasagna. It's apparently a type of pasta-soup, I've heard of it before and wanted to try it."

^^^

.....i am so confused. They live in Europe somewhere and they're royalty and they've apparently never heard of Italy. Or met Italians?

Europe, according to how Asgard apparently teaches it in this 'verse:

---

"Six-twenty-three, AM." Thor answers without looking up at her, and then adds: "Wednesday. You slept for thirty-six hours straight."

^^^

CBS elementary

In every single one of these, I tell you not to under estimate my love of Elementary but here i am again reminding you to NOT underestimate my love for this stupid little show.

---

Natasha stays until Hela finishes and takes the paperwork from her, assuring Hela that she'll give it to Ms. Hill, the owner of the building. 

^^^

I find this endlessly hilarious that Maria Freaking Hill owns a star bucks in this. Like. What was I thinking?

---

"It's Jane." Thor corrects. "Jane Foster." He looks up from his hands and sighs deeply. He's still staring at her strangely. "She's...we are courting, yes, but not with Father's approval. Or Mother's. They don't think I should be making permanent attachments in the U.S., but I just…" Thor looks towards where Jane disappeared to.

^^^

the person Thor was on the phone with at the beginning of this fic was Jane.

----

Hela shrugs. "I'd've told them just to watch the explosion."

^^^

*deep sigh* I'm sorry. The accent of my people shows horribly sometimes.

(WHO PUTS I'D'VE in a sentence like it's all casual---)

---

"YOU LEFT ME HERE!" Hela screams, and grabs a book off of the coffee table and throws it. It smashes against the far wall, pages fluttering as they hit the ground. "I spent TEN YEARS in hell because you refused to help! You didn't even TRY to save me!"

^^^

waiting for this all fic. :)

---

Oh. Whoops. The lies have become a scattered mess in the last few weeks. "I'm—" Hela pauses, trying to come up with a believable excuse. If she went to all the work of getting to the U.S., why would she be leaving?

^^^

*coughs into hand* because it's the U.S.?

---

A ripple of hurt washes through her, strong enough to make tears form on the edges of her eyes. She sets her teeth and forces herself to focus. Sharp tongue. Sharp words. Sharp. "Alright, get out. You're in my Starbucks."

"Your Starbucks?" Thor repeats. "You don't own anything. All you've done is make our parents worry and driven our mother to tears, why should I listen to anything you have to say?"

^^^

THIS. ENTIRE. SCENE.

I am SO impressed with myself for managing to get nearly ALL of thor and Hela's dialog from Ragnarok into this and fit it around STARBUCKS. Like.

*more back patting*

(AND also captured the emotion of the actual scene in the movie, like????????)

---

"I've failed you as a father," Odin starts slowly, carefully, as if he says the wrong thing she'll fall apart before him. Hela only gawks at him. Odin exhales deeply. "I can see that now. I'm a different man today than I was when you were imprisoned, and I am filled with regrets."

"Proud have it, ashamed of how you got it." Hela mutters under her breath, resisting the urge to hug her knees closer.

^^^

ODIN DIDN'T ACTUALLY APOLOGIZE??????? like. DUDE.

asdflkajsd;flkjasdf

----

"Come now," one of the male teens taunts, his nose looks flat and his hair is plastered against his forehead. "tell me honestly what you're thinking you lying freak."

Loki stumbles, landing on one of his elbows hard, but looks up at him. "I don't think you'd like my answer if I did."

^^^

this was one of the first scenes I wrote for the fic. (maybe THE first scene? it's fuzzy now)

---

"I think that Principal Gauntlet is biased."

^^

LOKI'S PRINCIPAL IS THANOS?

---

"You little—" the teen, Ebony apparently, starts before releasing her brother and punching him across the face.

LOKI'S BULLIES ARE THE BLACK ORDER????

---

At the time you were in New York, the gang the police claimed you killed had completely different territory

^^^

and we all know that gangs can't go outside of their assigned territory *clicks tongue* what WOULD we do if they were like normal people and wandered around?

---

An FBI agent walks towards them and wields a badge for her to see Agent Phil Coulson written out in fine print. "Hi. I'm with the FBI, I was part of the team assigned to your case." He glances towards the police woman. "Would you mind giving us a few minutes?"

^^^

COULSON is an FBI agent but MARIA FREAKING HILL Isn't??

---

Agent Coulson sighs, rubbing at his forehead. "Fine, but this could get ugly.

Hela smiles, but it venomous. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

^^^

this entire kidnapping sequence was planned to be much much longer, but I was losing steam toward the end and decided to cut about 80% of it because it helped the flow of the story.

---

She rests a hand on the cold stone, wiping some of the snow away with her pale fingers. She stares at the names for a long time, just breathing, thinking. Then, she pulls the letter she wrote several hours ago out and rests it next to the flowers. Her voice cracks when she speaks, but she still gets the words out. "Rest in peace, Papa, Amma...I forgive you."

^^^

this is the reason that "forgiveness is a joke" is the second line in the story and a lesson on why editing is so important. XD

---

Anyway. okay. That was long. I was basically reading and just commenting as I went. Solid story. Weird bits, as per usual for me, but generally enjoyable.

Link to story again

[i-heart-head-gutz]

i hate how numb ive been feeling. probably an extended freeze response. i want to cry but i don't have enough energy. i want to scream but i don't have enough energy. i want to cut myself, but every time i tell myself i will, i lack the energy to start. (and right now that's not a good thing.) all i can do is space out and let my mind wander through muted traumatic memories and fantasy. i crave the hysteria, as much as it hurts. its better than this.

i have horrible thoughts, wishing new trauma upon myself so that i can feel the intensity again. if my boyfriend breaks up with me, which its a coin toss if he will or not in my opinion, i've just been ignoring him since he told me he wanted a break, then i told myself id want to get in a relationship with an abusive partner. i told myself i wouldn't even care if i was raped, just as long as i could feel that trauma set in and fester again. no sane person would want this. but someone who is horribly trauma bonded would.

im at the bridge as i write this. i have to work at noon tomorrow. i hope something horrible happens to me on the way over so i won't have to think about this anymore.

[soupsword]

Dream SMP - Fear/trauma response headcanons

Trigger warnings for discussions of trauma, abuse, depersonalization/dissociation

Tommy: we all know how Tommy acts when he’s scared. He gets defensive and angry and violent. It starts out just being rude, and it devolves into attacking people over the littlest things. He either does so to stop people from ever getting a chance to hurt him, or because he is so blinded by his fear and anger that he believes they deserve his anger. He’s been raised to know that if he shows weakness, it will be taken advantage of. And, with his time being vulnerable towards Dream during exile, he’s only become acutely more aware of this.

Post prison Tommy: he’s given up on most of that anger. He will tell people, straight up, that they are scaring or hurting him, without a care. He’s been shown that being angry does nothing but get him killed, and he is trying to be more submissive now, condense himself into someone people will want to kill less. We still see his anger and his violent nature, but it’s been toned down, because he has been traumatized beyond anything he has EVER experienced.

Tubbo: people don’t seem to realize, but Tubbo has a past linear to Tommy’s. He’s been taught the same lessons, he’s just got different teachers, different abusers. He will be as angry and as violent as he needs to be, he’s just quieter. He thinks about his actions and their impact more than Tommy. But, that thinking about his actions can lead to overthinking. At times, he panics, still as angry or cold as ever, but his thoughts are racing. Is he doing the right thing? Is he failing his country? His friends? His family? He pushes past these worries, though, and makes split-second decisions at times. He is also more defense geared than Tommy, preferring to present his weapons and make his intentions to fight known before he has to strike.

Ranboo: he is the freeze and the flight. Ranboo has been taught that anger and violence lead to exile and death and destruction. He tries to be passive and to care for both sides of a fight, but it often backfires. He can be angry, yes, but he usually leaps immediately to overthinking and anxiety. This often sends him into a spiral of self hatred and anxiety. He wonders, parallel to Tubbo: is this what I should be doing? Am I even doing this? Am I here? Is this me, are these my actions?

Techno: Techno is so much more careful than most. He doesn’t start with anger. In fact, he often pushes himself into depersonalization or brain-fog in an effort to become colder, to force himself to understand situations like an outside force, not himself. This can lead to him seeming like he doesn’t care. This can also lead to him spiraling into dissociation episodes, where instead of being detached, he feels completely unreal. But, if pushed, he will get angry. He’s not the good man to run away from when he goes to war. He IS the war, cold and calculated and roaring with a thousand voices. He plans his attacks on the fly and he wins.

Phil: Phil is old. He’s grieved thousands of people, his loved ones, his friends, his families. Phil is so chock full of things that would traumatize normal mortals that it almost becomes a game to him. Fly a little closer to the sun, Icarus. Let the blade fall a little slower, Angel. He’s not reckless, but he toys with the idea. He often dissociates the same as Techno, spending days in silence after something has triggered some long past trauma. But oh, if you get him angry? You’d better kill yourself before he reaches you. In the moments he gets mad, he’s like Tommy, like Techno, like Tubbo. He’s steely and cold and violent, and his reputation has been forged from blood.

Wilbur: Mania. He is everything at once - sad, fearful, cold, angry. He switches from being terrified of something to being angry at it an instant later, manipulating the people around him into doing what he wants as soon as he realizes how to change himself for them. But he also suffers horribly from depersonalization. His actions have no meaning, right? He’s not even alive! He’s not even real! It doesn’t matter. He is self destructive and violent in general, not caring for anyone it affects until his rare moments of lucidity. When that fog clears, though, and he recognizes what he’s done? He falls apart. There’s no energy left for anger or manipulation or hate. Just awful, pervasive, desperate misery and guilt.

Feel free to add on or argue with me! Just wanted to ramble a bit.

[faebriel]

ok ok I'm insane and couldn't pick one so have two (no need to answer both if you don't want to)

“You talk to him.” Not kindly, but he does.

“I’m used to him,” he shoots back. “I’m the only person who is.”

That makes Niki feel something, some uncomfortable tug in her chest. She mentally kicks herself. It’s not jealousy, she reminds herself, because despite the near-cliff jumping and the long nights without food and the nuclear fallout that has punctuated her last few months, being jealous of Tommy would be the least reasonable thing she’s allowed herself to be, maybe ever.

“You don’t believe me,” Tommy says flatly. “You never - eugh.” He cuts himself off with another ragged sigh, running a hand down his face. “Look, Niki, it’s - we were all together in Pogtopia, right? But I was there first. With him. And you didn’t see the start of it, it was horrible, and I’m glad no one else saw the beginning of it either but it was still just so shit and he kept saying all these terrible things about Tubbo and Fundy and you and,” he takes a shaky breath, “then, when I died, I saw him.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

Well, the voice in the back of her head whistles. If you were still wondering about all this afterlife bullshit, if you want to know where you’re going after your third life, here you go.

and

“You didn’t even - this isn’t about L’Manberg, Wilbur!” Niki shouts.

And then he stops, breathing hard, and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say.

“What else is there?” he asks.

Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut, her chest, her shoulders, chilled down to the bone. With slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes, sitting in her throat, threatening to spill over into a sob. She swallows - to keep her cool, to stay calm, to keep it together -

And then, something in her chest just snaps.

“You said you’d come back for me!” she cries, and her voice hitches on the lump of tears at the back of her throat and god, she sounds absolutely pathetic. Wilbur’s face softens immediately, which somehow just makes her feel even worse. “In Manberg. When Schlatt put me in prison, and you and Tommy were in Pogtopia, you said you’d break me out when it was safe. I waited for weeks , Wilbur. It was… it was horrible.”

“Niki…” a kaleidoscope of emotions flicker across his face, and he seems unsure which to settle on. “We got you out though, right? After the festival.”

“You looked for the button first,” she says quietly, and he stills.

Her sniffling sounds embarrassingly loud against the quiet background of night.

thank you sm!!! i’m gonna put these under the cut because they got a little long sorry (tw for discussion of suicidal ideation)

to preface: tommy is kind of the accidental but incredibly necessary invisible support beam for niki and wilbur’s making amends in bitter. niki cannot accept wilbur’s actions and apology without first acknowledging her own actions and making steps towards an apology, because otherwise it kind of falls flat? in that ending scene niki finally gets what wilbur is feeling and wilbur finally gets that someone else knows how he feels (it’s not perfect 100% yet, but…. that’ll get explored later)

onto the actual snippet! “tommy talks to wilbur - not kindly, but he does” was very important to me! tommy has stuck by wilbur ever since pogtopia, but the tragedy is that he is not equipped to deal with wilbur’s issues, and it shows. wilbur’s first stream after revival depicts this really clearly, where tommy tails wilbur around the whole time but insults him, is still stuck on calling him the villain, physically fights him at some point, etc. on one hand this isn’t healthy but on the other hand tommy is actually around, which is more than can be said for basically any other ally wilbur has had on the dsmp, maybe excluding his dad, who literally killed him lmfao.

this whole issue is exacerbated by the fact that tommy believes that he is the only person who properly understands wilbur, the only person who gets what happened to him, and feels like wilbur is generally his burden to bear. he failed to stop wilbur from both 1. hurting other people and 2. killing himself after the pogtopia-manberg war - and he doesn’t trust wilbur not to do either of those things again, so he’s stuck hovering around wilbur while wilbur is inadvertently setting off his own trauma and feeling responsible for any way he might fuck up and hating that but not wanting to leave. tommy’s memory isn’t perfect and he isn’t a perfect narrator, what he remembers from pogtopia the most were the scariest parts and that’s understandable but it means he’s holding wilbur to the worst expectations of behaviour (and he does so very vocally). the others showed up later, sure, but in tommy’s eyes he’s the only one who saw wilbur’s descent, and by the time they showed up wilbur had already changed irreversably. tommy tries to rationalise this by splitting the ‘different wilburs’ apart from each other in his head (he does this in canon too - there’s one quote from like late 2020 where he says he and tubbo need to keep on going for who wilbur used to be, not who he became, even though they’re,, the same person), and no one challenges that perspective, so he just keeps doing it even though it’s not healthy for him or wilbur.

and then limbo happened and, oh geez, THAT didn’t help jhfaskjjfsa

tommy is on a bit of a knife edge with niki in this fic. niki’s in this state of “ok, he’s annoying whatever, i’m moving on”, but all tommy knows is that she tried to kill him that one time, disappeared off the face of the map, joined a book club with two people who definitely do not like him, and now is just acting weirdly mellow and polite. she is not someone he wants near wilbur bc what the fuck is she gonna do? what is he gonna do? who knows. he’s frustrated that niki doesn’t seem to acknowledge how he’s feeling (especially bc once upon a time she would have been someone he trusted to acknowledge them - they were friends, they fought together) and he’s taking a big step by telling someone about his concerns here, especially bc tommy doesn’t really like talking about them at all. he wouldn’t be saying absolutely anything to niki if he didn’t truly believe she should stay away from wilbur, even if he’s wrong about him. (sometimes i think i write tommy as a little too emotionally mature here but it all goes out the window when wilbur’s brought up. idk if that balances it out)

ok onto niki: this is the first she has actually heard of limbo! she’s only just come around to the fact that resurrection is possible at all. death is kind of a touchy subject for niki both in general and re: wilbur in the fic - she’s coming off of a period in her life where suicidal ideation was, uh, a big thing (whether you want to read that into canon or not is subjective, that’s just the angle i went with in this fic). the sudden existence of a life after death, miserable as it is - and whether she really believes in such a place, when it only exists in tommy and wilbur’s words - that is a lot of information for her to absorb all at once. death is a weird connection point for tommy and niki here, coming right off of the fact that they’ve just acknowledged each other having those problems - tommy, out of, yknow, altruism, would very much like to keep niki out of that place, and niki is quietly reckoning with the fact that that is where she would have sent him. the concept of limbo from the perspective of a character with no experience of it, even secondhand, is so interesting to me like what kind of eldritch location would you feel like you’re living in asghjkl

(also - i gotta be honest the jealousy angle here but mostly when she’s talking later about dream not deserving wilbur’s companionship kinda came out after this post came across my dash while writing. whoops /j)

-

fun fact, this is the very first snippet of bitter that i ever wrote! all the way back in may!! this is like the moment of the fic - it's where the miscommunication that niki and wilbur have been having is shattered entirely - and so sticking the landing was uhhh kinda important to me lol.

wilbur's entire being in this fic is basically consumed by L'Manberg - he equates his self worth to it entirely. in his eyes, everyone (rightfully) hates him because of what he did to L'Manberg, because L'Manberg was corrupted and he himself with it, etc. niki tries to tell herself this, and while it definitely does form part of her issues with him, it was the betrayal that causes her this much pain - that he seemingly brushed her and their friendship off entirely when he supposedly left her for dead in manberg. because here is what we as the audience know: wilbur couldn’t leave niki in trouble when he heard her life was in danger, even when he was trying to find the button (pretty much the only thing he sees himself as having left at this point) and so he returned. here is what it looks like from niki’s perspective: wilbur told her to wait in manberg until it was safe to come to pogtopia, laid the place with TNT, went to blow up the place, and only returned when he couldn’t find the detonator (and then the first thing she saw him do in pogtopia was encourage the pit behaviour but that’s not what we’re talking about asdfgh). that is massive miscommunication and it’s been brewing between them for months - to make a quirky little reference to the title, niki has been carrying that anger with her so long it's gone bitter. it was never just about l’manberg with niki - not that anger, not her and wilbur’s friendship (hence the little flashback earlier in the fic, bc niki’s relationship to anarchism and statehood or statelessness juxtaposed with her friendships with wilbur and eret - she loves l’manberg bc she loves wilbur, but she loves eret too and those national ties don’t undermine that - is Real Interesting to me) - so when wilbur asks what else there could possibly be (because in his mind, what else could she have bothered staying around for?), she just fucking breaks.

“Niki freezes. Stock still, unable to move, unable to breathe, ice threading its way through her gut...with slow-dawning horror, she can feel hot tears welling up behind her eyes” - prose discussion time! heat and cold are two big throughlines in this fic - particularly for niki, cold is what she is. admittedly when i started with it i mostly wanted to subvert hot = angry and cold = dead but i kinda ended up enjoying this take on it for what it is instead of just as a subversion (also i like the idea of revived people running hot, their bodies r working hard to keep em going). she’s holding onto her feelings and refusing to deal with them, she’s frozen over. descriptions of cold are key to niki’s mental state throughout the fic - cold weight on her chest, feelings of frostbite when she and wilbur hug the first time, ice cold water during the dinner scene, waking up in the cold flat, etc. this was an attempt at describing a more visceral feeling of like, when you’re really mad and you can just feel the adrenaline running through your veins. always felt more cold than hot to me. when she starts to cry, the facade she’s been putting on is finally thawing out and cracking the ice she’s buried her feelings under. (also gives an excuse to write warm comforting hugs towards the end /hj). it’s a loss, it’s catharsis, it’s a whole mess.

and ofc this is all news to wilbur and he feels terrible, because as unintentional as it was, he really really hurt her - because the destruction of l’manberg fucking sucked but above all else wilbur hurt the people he loved because they loved him so much and not in spite of it, because they cared about him so deeply and his death was a massive blow to them. this hasn’t even dawned on him, because how could it? he respects deeply niki (lowkey respects her opinion more than his own at this point) so he has to listen, because it’s niki (“and he looks at Niki the same way he does whenever her voice is being drowned out in a crowd - the way he does when he wants to hear her, when he wants to know what she has to say” - because he does), and what she says fucking floors him. in his eyes, he failed her by putting her in danger and then by destroying her home - the idea that she valued him and their friendship so much flies entirely over his head until this moment, and he is forced to re-evaluate the mindset that has motivated him since… basically since pogtopia! the way i write wilbur is like… yes, he’s one of niki’s closest friends and he’s more aware of her insecurities and issues than most (which is why he does always take the time to listen to her, etc) but he does over-idealise her a bit. tbf, i think he does to some extent with everyone (calling tubbo strong on the anniversary stream, for example). also the fact that he really wasn’t around for niki’s lowest moments as a character! he still thinks of her the way she was in l’manberg - confident, steadfast, respected - and this moment shatters that for him as he realises exactly what effect he and his death had on her and everyone else, not just by his actions, but because they loved him and cared for him so deeply.

sorry that this got horrifically long!! and thank you so much for sending snippets in <3333

[autistic-ace-bee]

diagnosis anon

I have a question, I know you're not a doctor or anything but I just want to know if this is something people who have adhd or are autistic have.

When someone talks about something serious or rants I just really feel uncomfortable because although I know I'm not the one doing something wrong I just feel stress when seeing or hearing it. It's like they're talking to me and reprimanding me or something.

And when people are talking about something that I agree with when they start talking sarcastically and snobbily I just dislike it and it goes for both sides of any discussion, I know what's right but when people start talking like that I just don't like it.

Like someone talking about their trauma on tiktok without any warnings or anything I just scroll through a video and they immediately start talking abt something horrible that happened to them. I just hate it so much. And all the comments are either comforting them, saying the same thing happened to them, or saying something worse that happened to them. I just can't relate to that or any of that when it's done like that.

I don't know if it's a symptom of something or maybe something that came from trauma so I'm just wondering if that's something people who have adhd or are autistic have? Just so I can cross them out and talk about it to the doctor when I get a schedule.

I'm sorry if this is annoying or too personal for you

Im not entirely sure if this is an ASD or ADHD thing. Frankly, I'm not too familiar with the symptoms of ADHD beyond the shared ASD symptoms, and because ASD is a spectrum I'm not familiar with all the symptoms there either. From what you've said though at least part of you're feeling might be Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria? Other than that I'd say its perfectly normal to find discourse uncomfortable and to feel uncomfortable with people sharing/oversharing on social media, especially without tagging or warning about triggering content. I can see an inability to relate to people being a symptom of ASD but in the case you've described I can also see that inability also potentially being related to dissociation linked to the freeze response experienced during trauma. The thing is neurodivergents (not just ADHDers and autistics either) are significantly more likely to experience trauma, so it can be hard to distinguish the symptoms sometimes. Personally, I can only speak from an autistic perspective, so it might be worth asking NTs, ADHDers and other autistics as well.

On that note, if anyone has any thoughts to help anon here I'm sure we'd both value the input! And don't worry anon, you're never annoying and I have no problem answering personal asks either /gen =^-^=

[one-abuse-survivor]

hey so, my mom used to hit me a lot when i was a kid. Said I only behaved as a good girl when I was beaten up (of course i did, i was scared for my life all the time). Anyway, she stopped doing it as I got older and bigger but everytime we fight she stills threatens me and says she should've hit me more when she had the chance. I always tell her to do it now if she's so brave but she never does for some reason (i think she's also scared.) She started threatening my little brother as soon as he got old enough to understand words. He never got hit, just threatened a lot. He's terrified of her and his dad (my stepdad), he hates shouting and flipflops. I've confronted my mom too many times about it, she always says the same thing, that its the only way for us to behave and then she victimizes herself saying that I'm always judging her and "oh im always wrong the worst mother on earth for raising my kids" and "your grandma did the same to me and im alive" and im like???? what do you mean "you're alive" were you supposed to be dead then??? miss ma'am thats not okay! my grandma abused you! and you're abusing your kids! but she just never listens, at least while I'm here i can protect me and my brother. But I'm really afraid that after I move out she's going to start beating him. This kind of thing just makes me think like... some people really shouldn't have kids.

i sent an ask a while ago about being afraid my mom would start beating up my brother as soon as I left the house... well, its worse. She started while I'm still here and I couldn't protect him. I heard yelling and she pushed him to the bedroom and I couldn't do anything. All I was able to do was close my eyes and cover my ears, I was shaking and crying but I couldn't move, I literally froze in place. She always does this thing where she beats us and then comforts us after, saying it only happened because we "deserved it". She washes our crying faces and gives us water and hugs, almost like she's rescuing us from herself. Idk why she does it but it used to give me a lot of conflicted feelings when I was younger and its probably giving my brother the same. I wish she would just stop being fake and leave already, just never be in our lives again. My brother doesn't deserve any of this, he doesn't deserve being neglected and only noticed when its to be called horrible things and beat up for being a child who doesn't know better sometimes. This is fucked up and I feel so guilty and bad because I cant do anything, I just want to get us both out of here

Nonnie, I am so, so sorry. What you and your brother are going through sounds extremely traumatic, and something no one should ever have to go through. You’re absolutely right when you say your grandma abused your mom and she’s doing the same thing to you and your brother. I’m proud of you for recognising what she does as abuse, and seeing right through her victim-blaming and guilt-tripping. I really hope you know her telling you she only hit you because you deserved it and because that was the only way you’d behave, and acting like the victim when she feels judged, is really emotionally abusive.

Regarding those conflicting feelings when she cared for you after abusing you, I recommend looking up trauma bonding if you want to, because that’s what can happen when your main source of support is also your abuser. Here’s an article about it if you’re interested.

And regarding your brother, please be kind to yourself. The way you reacted that day sounds like a (completely understandable) trauma response. Freezing is just as normal a response as fighting, fleeing and fawning, and, as the rest of these reactions, it’s a survival instinct and not something you can control. Please remember she’s to blame for your brother’s trauma, not you. You’re not meant to be able to protect him from her. Witnessing abuse as a minor, even when it’s not directed at you, is still abuse, and is still traumatic. You’re also a victim in this situation, and it’s understandable that you reacted as such. Please don’t punish yourself for that.

Neither of you deserve the way she’s treating you, and I really hope you can get out of there sooner rather than later. If there’s any safe adult in your life you can reach out to about this, I encourage you to do it if you can. To protect your brother and to protect yourself, because you both deserve so much better than her abuse and trauma.

Sending all my support your way ❤

[rahleeyah]

i've been reading about eli loving or hating noah/olivia and suddenly had this thought about him really trying but just not feeling like he fits into this new dynamic and lashing out here and there and everyone being so understanding and taking it in stride because they know he's just missing his mom because he def was a mamma's boy and they would do everything together and have the same personality and light and love and laughter and liv is just so different because she is dark and there is something broken in her eyes and her love feels overwhelming and too much sometimes but it's also a feeling he absolutely craves, that motherly love and affection

and one evening they're having dinner and eli had a bad day at school and he just breaks down when liv asks how school was, acting like a normal family, talking about their day and he starts crying and liv, with all her compassion and her empathy, goes to hug him and he just... pushes her away and screams that she has to "stop being so nice because SHE IS NOT HIS MOM" and she takes it in and understands and she's not upset and backs away but noah, sweet noah who's so protective of his mom because it's always been team mommy & noah screams at eli to "stop being mean to his mom" and eli just feels stuck in a place, in a life he doesn't want to be in and he turns to noah and blurts out "why should you care? she's not your mom either! you're adopted" and the world just stops spinning for a second

elliot freezes, olivia just crumbles into herself, noah doesn't understand but he turns towards his mom, questions in his eyes, so upset because what does this mean? and eli is angry, so angry and how did it get out of hand so quickly?

god, this is horrible but i'm in drama mode right now and i read all these fics where they're a happy family and just... there's so much trauma about eli losing his mother and his dad having ptsd and him being moved around like an something nobody knows what to do with that i just cannot see it happening smoothly and it is normal for there to be a big adaptation period, and resentment, and acceptance that it's okay for him to maybe look to olivia for that motherly love but it's so hard because he just wants his mom and he hates that everyone is being so careful around him and so understanding, he wants people to stand up to him, to tell him how it is, to tell him to stop being so difficult because yes he lost his mother, but it doesn't give him to right to become mean and lash out because now he's made this huge mistake and how is he, are they, going to fix it? is it even fixable?

he's just angry and sad and it's the worse combination because he want everyone around him to feel the same and he doesn't see it and have they all forgotten about his mom being dead?

but then olivia gets angry at him and tells him how it is, that he had no right and finally, finally it's the release that he's been craving for, someone standing up to him and afterwards they have a hard conversation about it, and a new understanding about their place in each other's life and it takes time to rebuild what was broken between them but it's better and he feels incredibly lucky that, in the end, it was olivia it happened with and not anyone else and he respects the hell out of her

elliot on the other hand is completely ashamed and angry and at a loss because he's never dealt with this eli before and it was always kathy that dealt with temper tantrums with the kids but this time he has to step up and it's the thing that makes him have a deep and hard conversation with eli about what happened and how to deal with it going forward

he apologises to olivia, he feels so bad and he doesn't know how eli knows about noah being adopted but olivia knows it's not his fault, that eli is old enough to take responsibility for his own actions and that really everyone didn't really look closely at how eli was coping and it's not an excuse but they need to understand what and how and why and families can be messy and together they have enough trauma to load an antonov-225 and it's going to take time but this too shall pass and it's going to be okay

noah and liv has the adoption talk (olivia was gearing towards it anyway because he's coming to an age where he can understand it) and they have a strong bond and they get over it because noah knows olivia is his mom and she's always been honest and she answers all his questions and it's a new dynamic to navigate but their love for each other is strong and he knows his mom and that she will always be there for him and he feels kinda special that her heart choose him, that they found each other and got to be a team

it gets tricky between noah and eli but slowly they figure it out and children are so resilient and forgiving and noah still looks up to eli and eli slowly realises that he can become an example for noah and how can you say no to childlike wonder and maybe they have more in common than they think and it deepens their bond that both of them lost their mom and both of them were taken in and loved and protected by olivia and that feeling? nothing can replace that feeling

this was my ted talk, thank you goodbye

Good Lord anon I feel like I need to lie down

Holyyyyyyyy shit

Eli is just a teenager, a young one at that, whose whole life has been turned upside down and inside out, and I think it totally makes sense that he would be angry at times, that he would lash out, that he would speak without thinking. And it's not that he's malicious it's just too damn much. And Olivia's compassion and empathy could be smothering, especially when he so desperately misses his own mother. And yeah it's messy and it's hard but yes they can find their way through it. I love this 🙌🙌🙌🙌

[stressedspidergirlsfandomblog]

Okay, so imagine this

Kaer Morhen is a place that little boys go to die, if they’re lucky, or they become witchers. 

(In some ways, Strangers Like Me is what fucking ran thru my head literally all night last night. I wrote nothing, I could not sleep, and my brain SPIRALED all over this)

And somehow, despite the world beating him down and beating him down and beating him down and shelling him out over and over, he runs into an idiot bard who has no fear of him. Who slowly goes from thinking he’s a simpleton to realizing there is a man in there, a boiling seething lake of feelings and anger overtopped by a thick layer of ice. And the bard makes it his life’s mission to help him learn that he is human. (the whole fic idea is more Geraskier, but it has to START the development elsewhere)

he also bumps sorceress who teaches him love and anger and all sorts of other things -fancy table manners, philosophy etc. He has access to things with her he’d never have had in the keep. She teaches him how to eat chicken on the bone with a fork and knife (book canon), and all the other fancy utensils because he’s a person dammit and he should know that his napkin goes in his lap. He devours her books, and since she can read minds she can draw out the conversations from him. She teaches him how to have those conversations and those debates. 

TWs for all the canon compliant fucking misery that is Geralt’s life. Child abuse, neglect, assault, etc. 

Geralt is incapable of believing good about himself, or expressing himself normally or knowing what to do in social situations. He mimics, he copies, he attempts to replicate, but if the situation changes he isn’t sure what to do. 

Trauma gives us 4 options. Fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. He knows how to fight, but sometimes it leads him to battles he’ll never win. Flight is usually safest. Freeze can also work well, but he doesn’t know how to fawn, no one’s praised him enough or taught him how to give praise or fake affection in turn. Usually, he chooses to freeze until he can assess better. If there’s no blades drawn, it is time to freeze. 

( I am looking at this purely from a child abuse perspective) 

He has no idea what to make of Yennefer. She is rage, and greed, and feelings, and luxury. She teaches him to fight back. She teaches him you can be angry and people will not always leave you. Some children/adults will do anything to please someone in hopes of affection until they feel safe, and they begin to test boundaries. And with Yennefer, he’s allowed. Neither one of them knows how to process emotions in a healthy way, not really. But if she wants to throw a jam jar at the wall -not at him, never at him. She doesn’t want to hurt him. She’s just angry and has to break something. Better the jar than herself. Or him. He learns to stomp and yell right back, to knock things off the dresser or desk. Maybe it’s not a good lesson, but it’s something. 

She teaches him choice in bed. He’s never had choice in bed, he’s never made love. He has had sex. Voluntary, involuntary. Me for her, let the girl go, use me instead. He heals. He always heals. He can kill them if he wants to, but that raises more problems than it solves. Kaer Morhen has no women. He learns very little about making love there, either, feelings are forbidden. However, he learns to keep himself silent and still as his cock is stroked, he learns to not let the bed so much as creak the slightest bit, not the softest change in his breathing. He learns how to use precum as lubricant because there is nothing else, and while he doesn’t learn how to kiss, or fuck, he learns how to touch. There’s no kind of education like that. It’s control, management of pain, seeking approval from people who rarely give it. 

Yennefer gives him approval. She gives him choice, and she teaches him to move his hips. She teaches him it’s alright to breathe through it, to beg for it, to twitch, it’s okay to want something for himself. He can’t reconcile it, can’t adapt well to it. But in bed, with her, he allows himself to be freer. It doesn’t translate for him, into other situations. His learning is contextual. He has trouble applying the lessons she tries to teach him to other social situations. He can fight back with her because she likes him. He can argue with her about books because she starts the conversation for him because he doesn’t know how. He is heinously smart, he can read, write, and speak at least three languages, he can synthesize information so quickly it stuns her. If he’d been chosen as a mage, if he could access the Source, he would set the world on fire. 

She teaches him to say ‘no.’ It’s not something he knew he could do. Not outside of negotiating a contract. Most of his world is lived inside of his own head because he isn’t allowed to offer opinions unless someone asks. Other than contracts. There is a script, there are rules, he can say ‘I won’t kill that’ or ‘that’s not enough coin’ or ‘no.’ Those situations he can talk freely and articulately. 

They experiment in bed, to a point. She can tell when he’s getting cagey and stops. She never makes him say ‘no’, never lets it get that far, because she knows he’ll freeze. When he’s vaguely curious about light bondage she simply tells him to see if he can even stand to put his palms on the headboard and not touch her. He can’t. He can’t stand it if she won’t touch him, either, when she offers to return the favor and see if he likes that edge of control. He doesn’t. She’s had other lovers, but none like him. None as broken and angry as she is. (The book says, it flat out says, they did not know HOW to be kind, but they wanted to be, and so they were, when it describes how they make love.) They try other things, some things he more tolerates than enjoys -the unicorn. But he doesn’t hate it, he just doesn’t prefer it. 

He can’t admit to feelings, he can’t admit to loving her, and so she can’t tell him because he isn’t ready to hear it. He can’t believe any of it, and so she can’t say a word. Telling him would chase him out of her life forever. When he tries to share things with her, when he tries to push himself to describe any part of himself, she listens. She uses many of his failings against him when they fight, but never what he tells her in confidence and struggle and broken words. When he tells her ‘they botched it’ meaning they botched him, he’s worthless, not made right, and horrible, she tells him perhaps she is the same. 

Eventually the fighting is too much, the frustration at themselves is too much. They can’t heal each other. What they need doesn’t line up yet. 

They break apart and he travels again, happy to reunite with Jaskier. Not that he understands that feeling. But something feels ...easier, with the bard around. He tries on occasion to engage in conversations, just sharing a random fact or quote with the bard and Jaskier doesn’t realize what Geralt is doing for weeks until Geralt stops and he finally asks him what his quote of the day is. Geralt visibly perks and Jaskier finally understands what Geralt has been trying to tell him. He finally asks the right question and Geralt talks to him for hours, long after the sun sets, as animated as his training allows him to be, describing how he’s connected this human myth to an elvish historical event that is corroborated by the dwarves, he had to read it in Elvish, and also Dwarfish, but he can’t find a written version of the myth he’s only heard it spoken or sung. 

Jaskier takes him to Oxenfurt and leads him in and out of guest lectures. They sit in the back so Geralt can hide, because that’s what he does. Don’t look people in the eye unless they tell you to. Don’t look up, don’t be big, don’t exist if you can help it. And he hides and scrunches in on himself, but he listens, and the bard lets him pore over libraries and scares off anyone who would complain at a mutant witcher touching precious tomes. Geralt is gentle, and careful, and sweet, and he deserves to read what he wants, he deserves answers to questions about the world he could never find in Kaer Morhen where his only training was how to survive as a witcher. 

Jaskier teaches him how to answer the question asked, not just say what he thinks people want to hear. That’s not what I asked you. I asked what your preference was. He learns that Geralt was very much raised to believe children should be seen and not heard, in terms of himself. He doesn’t speak up, doesn’t offer anything unless asked. Not unless it’s about witchering, then he is allowed. And so he makes sure to ask. Are you hungry? Would you like to stop for the night, too? Does that hurt, it looks like it hurts. And Geralt learns to listen to the words, and he learns if asked, he is allowed to speak for himself. He doesn’t have to do what he thinks Jaskier wants. Unless prompted, around people, he rarely speaks, rarely converses, and just tries not to be terrifying. Keeps his head down, hood up, he doesn’t want to be hurt. He’s sick of being hurt. He’s sick of going hungry, he is sick of being miserable. And he has found if he is invisible, people leave him alone. He doesn’t get stoned, he doesn’t get beaten, he doesn’t get chased out for just wanting a bed to sleep in and a warm meal. If he doesn’t take up space, he can exist. Jaskier speaks for him, people think perhaps he’s a simpleton who the bard travels with, they don’t know the quick mind behind the eyes focused firmly on the ground. 

It constantly breaks Jaskier’s heart. He has never seen Geralt smile. He has never heard him laugh. He has heard him talk with intonation on occasion, and usually only when reciting what he’s been told. He is an incredible mimic for tone and pitch and it astounds the bard. When he asks Were you even listening to me at all?  and Geralt begins reciting everything he had said, with perfect inflection, since Geralt’s last one word response, perfect tone, perfect everything other than he doesn’t change his voice, his gravelly voice will never soar into tenor heights. 

Children, ones who don’t know what he is, love him. Parents who don’t know, don’t see the swords strapped to Roach, they don’t mind the bard’s pet simpleton playing pat-a-cake with their children, they don’t mind them teaching him to make flower crowns. Or watching them draw in the dirt. The children never think he’s stupid, they like him all the more for knowing they aren’t, either. He lets them pet his horse, and boosts them into the saddle. He helps them reach fruit on tree branches, and pulls down prickly berry vines full of blackberries so they can gorge on the sweet fruit. Jaskier loves watching him with children, because he’s less guarded. He starts out small, makes himself so small, so nonthreatening, and when the children realize he’s happy to play with them, he relaxes. The tension leaves him and the villagers ignore him. Any adult stupid enough to want to play with children, to humor them, and listen to their stories can’t be right in the head. The bard’s assurances he won’t touch them or hurt them goes a long way. 

He used to freeze and flinch and shudder whenever Jaskier touched him, because he could not understand. He still doesn’t. Emotions make no sense, touching for affection that isn’t between lovers makes no sense. Jaskier stays with him, so they must be friends. He’d admit it openly if asked. He doesn’t understand he loves the other man. He wouldn’t know that’s what he was feeling even if he was told. He feels nothing, it’s a scooped out shell, there is nothing inside of him other than sometimes anger. That’s why he had to leave Yennefer. She was the sun and he just reflected her warmth, he had nothing of his own to give back. 

Patently untrue, but there’s nothing that would convince him otherwise and Jaskier doesn’t try. Geralt is ridiculously capable and educated, and wonderful and the bard does what he can to praise him when he can because he knows Geralt needs to hear it. No one praised him or loved him as a child. Hugs are still foreign and after years of them his first instinct is still to flinch. He will sleep comfortably draped across the bard, or with the bard curled into him. He doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t have the same personal boundaries other people do. If he’s cold, and Jaskier is there, he sees no reason not to share heat. 

It had given the bard heart failure when they’d been sitting around the fire after eating and Geralt had just started pleasuring himself without understanding why that might not be socially acceptable. He’d offered to help the bard first. Not wanting to give Geralt another reason to be ashamed, or small, or scared, he had declined, and wondered in what world could a boy grow up afraid of being held, but feel perfectly comfortable jerking himself off in the company of others. What had been even odder was the witcher had continued their conversation as though this was normal. Hadn’t lost focus, his breathing had never changed, he hadn’t seemed to take much pleasure from his actions, and Jaskier couldn’t understand why he was doing it. 

It had made his heart hurt in new ways. It’s a perfunctory action, meant to relieve an itch, not something for pleasure’s sake alone. Everything he does has function and reason and logic. 

When they run into people Jaskier knows, and they want to talk to the white wolf, or see him, or bother him, Jaskier tells them to leave him be. He won’t talk to them. His poor witcher gains a bit of a reputation as being a tame monster, trailing his bard on a leash and killing monsters as directed. 

When they’re low on grain for the horses, he goes to busk and see if he can drum up coin. When he comes back to pay the stablemaster, the last thing he expects is for Geralt to be paying with his body, a blank expression on his face as he braces himself against the door of an empty stall. He looks at Jaskier without any kind of shame, any understanding of what’s happening to him because he needs feed for Roach, and she needs a warm place to sleep out of the muck during the rainy seasons. Her hooves need to be dried out, he needs to borrow tools to clean the frogs and check her shoes. He might need the services of a ferrier. He’ll get a bit of coin for this and then some extra. If it isn’t sex with a lover, it’s just a transaction, what should he care? The bard escapes when he realizes only Geralt saw, and pukes his guts up into the gutters. He’d have tried to stop it, but the stablemaster was bigger than he was and he couldn’t take the risk the man would hurt Geralt. 

The horses taken care of, Jaskier uses the coin he’d earned to have a bath drawn up and helps Geralt bathe until all trace of stable is washed away. He tries to ask, and when Geralt openly tells him it’s just better that way, he bites his tongue so hard it bleeds rather than reply or push the issue. He has coin, they’re fine, Geralt won’t need to do that again while they’re together. 

He notices how the witcher gets thinner after, stress and shame eating his insides even if he won’t admit it. He’d been the heaviest Jaskier had ever seen him after living with Yennefer for a few years. Healthy. Shiny hair, bright eyes, enough meat over his bones to hide them. Slowly his spine creeps through his skin and the bard can count the vertebrae. It will pass, and he realizes he’s seen this pattern. This has happened before he just hadn’t seen. It passes, Geralt finds lucrative contracts, and his body fills back out. 

They continue to work on what feelings are. Geralt remains baffled by the fact the bard will not bed him in any capacity, and doesn’t understand why they can’t share a little pleasure. Jaskier knows if he gives in, Geralt will never let it progress beyond more than just skin on skin. He’ll never understand it could be more. He has to wait, he has to keep pushing for the witcher to understand there is more. 

They happen upon a town, and a small girl, perhaps three or four years old, picks flowers by the side of the road. There’s a house visible in the distance, but it’s awfully far for a small child to have wandered. Geralt immediately looks around for a dead body, half expecting to find the child’s mother dead in a ditch. Nothing. When she notices his hair peeking out from under his cloak as he crouches down to talk to her, she pushes the fabric off his head to twirl her fingers into his hair. He barely breathes as he asks her where her ma and pa are. She points at the house and said she wanted the orange flowers. He looks over and sees that while there are what seems like thousands of wildflowers much closer, none are the color she’s currently collecting. The child will be missed soon enough, he supposes as he offers her a seat on his shoulder. Before she accepts, she splays small fingers under his eye and he freezes, waiting for her to scream or reject him. She simply says ‘pretty.’ When he lifts her up, she tangles a hand back into his hair to help her hold on and keep her balance. She stuffs the flowers into her small apron -probably made more to humor her than for any practical purpose, and occasionally pats Geralt’s head and tells him again, his hair is pretty and he’s nice to take her home. 

When screaming reaches his ears, he knows the little girl’s name is Ivana, and he tells Jaskier, “Make noise, her mother is in the fields looking for her.” The bard’s trained lungs will project far better than his will. His lungs are trained to breathe evenly and slowly in all things. He will endure if he keeps his heart slow and his breathing calm. 

“Over here! We’ve found her!” Jaskier calls, his voice ringing stridently over the fields. He’s not sure how she could hear him from so far that only Geralt can hear her frantic calls, but all the same he sees how Geralt tilts his head and nods to himself. 

They speed up, Geralt’s stride long and even as the woman comes pelting across the grass, crushing flowers, and her skirts hiked up over her knees to keep them out of her way. She gasps slightly when she sees Geralt and the brightly dressed bard, not sure what they will do to her or her daughter. She can see the swords on the roan mare. “I haven’t coin, please don’t hurt her,” she says. 

Jaskier feels Geralt shrivel. “We just saw her picking flowers and knew she’d be missing,” he explains. “We don’t want coin. Not for returning a toddler to her mother,” he protests. When she reaches out for her child, and Geralt obliges by leaning to hand her off, the girl shrieks in displeasure. 

Geralt freezes, one arm half coming up to ward the mother off, but unsure. Why wouldn’t she want to go back? It’s Jaskier who saves the situation by laughing. “I see she’s gotten quite attached,” he tells the anxious mother. “Here, Ivana, come down, he’s very tired and he’s not a pony. You brought flowers for your ma, didn’t you? You can’t show her very well from up there,” and holds out his arms. The girl allows Geralt to pass her over, and he swiftly deposits her on the ground where her mother relaxes immediately. She shows the flowers, and offers Geralt one. 

“Are you a witcher?” she asks. 

“Yes,” Geralt says, careful not to open his mouth too much. His teeth are a bit too white, and his canines a bit too sharp. Not fangs, but some people choose to see them that way. They’d grown in sharper when he’d lost his baby teeth, he’d seen plenty of other humans with teeth like his, but against his pale skin and yellow eyes, the effect was more noticeable. More monstrous. 

“There’s a wyvern, my man, when he gets back from ploughing, he can show you. I see Ivana has taken to you. If you’ll watch her while I bundle herbs, I’ll feed you both lunch.” She isn’t afraid of witchers. “We don’t have much coin, but there’s a bounty on the beast, you can turn it in, if you travel up the road a bit. In the mean time, I can offer you a place to sleep, some feed for your horse, and a meal in a few hours once I’ve finished my tasks.” 

Jaskier knows Geralt is well pleased with the idea just from the shift of his shoulders. “Geralt’s a wonderful babysitter,” he smiles. “I can help you with the chores, I’m sure. Just put me to work. My name is Jaskier, that is Geralt, and you are?” 

“Oh gods above, I’m so sorry, I’m Melina.” She reaches out to shake Jaskier’s hand and the bard accepts warmly, but when she tries to do the same for Geralt the bard gives her a look and she drops her hand. Odd. “Ivana, you mind Master Geralt, or I’ll give you such a hiding you won’t sit for weeks, do you hear me?” 

“Yes, Mama,” she promises. “I will show him where to put the horse,” she says proudly and Geralt makes a ‘lead the way’ gesture at her with a little bow that makes her giggle. He takes Roach’s reins from Jaskier and follows the girl child to the barn. 

“He won’t hurt her?” 

“No, he’d die in her defense in a heartbeat.” 

“But he can’t shake hands?” 

“He wouldn’t know that’s what you wanted,” Jaskier tells her. Not sure if that makes it worse or puts her more at ease. “You don’t seem much afraid of him, considering how we started.” 

“Witchers help people,” she smiles faintly. “My pa would have died long before he met my ma if not for a witcher who saved him on the road. Took a bad rake across his face, though, the witcher. My Pa taught us, even if we don’t know much reading or writing, history turns. People used to trust witchers. Then they tried to kill them all. And they’ll trust them again. Any man willing to risk dying to save others can’t be all bad.” 

“That is what I’ve been saying.” He glances up to see the black-clad witcher come back into view with Ivana swinging his hand happily. He can’t hear her, but he knows she is chattering nonstop. 

“Is he... simple?” she asks softly, watching as her daughter teaches Geralt a new clapping game he hasn’t seen before. He seems to be devoting all his energy to the game. 

“No,” Jaskier breathes. “No, he’s brilliant,” his heart aches. “Will they be alright out here, your man won’t come home and try and beat him with a stick?” 

“No, Roddy would never. He’ll come from the back fields as is. My Roderick is a good man. How could he hit your Geralt for playing with our daughter?” 

“People have done worse for far less,” Jaskier says bitterly. He has no idea why he’s sharing with her. Perhaps months on the road of people being truly horrible to Geralt have made him desperate to talk to someone who isn’t. Someone who is kind. 

“I see.” She shows Jaskier the herbs she’s drying, some to sell, some for home remedies. Vegetables to jar and pickle, and hundreds of other small tasks made near impossible by having a small child to mind. “My boys help their father in the fields, so that he can work on other tasks once they can manage the rest.” As the bard gets the knack for how to tie the herbs, she watches him a few seconds. “So what’s wrong with him?” 

“Nothing,” Jaskier protests. “Nothing at all,” he aches for Geralt. “People, people are the ones who are wrong. He does everything he can to not draw attention. The less he talks, the less he moves, the less people notice and the less likely they are to-” His head snaps up when he hears a husky chuckle from outside. “Your man early?” 

“No, he doesn’t laugh like that,” she says. 

“Who the fuck is that then?” he demands, peering from the small window. Ivana is pointing at something dramatically and stamping a foot and he realizes the laugh is Geralt. His heart squeezes and he blinks rapidly. He hadn’t known Geralt could laugh. Not in all the years they’d been travelling together. “Oh,” he gasps, the wind knocked out of him. 

“Let them be, if she starts to have a true tantrum I’ll rescue him. It’s about time for her to nap, she’ll be fussy soon enough.” 

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Jaskier tells her, rubbing at his eyes with a knuckle. “He’s faced worse than a grumpy toddler before.” 

“Perhaps, Master Jaskier. But he cannot swing his sword to stop her from inconveniencing him.” 

“He would never. Although, he might turn tail and run in here, seeking rescue,” he tries to turn the conversation somewhere else. 

[abuckyproblem]

What’s His Name?

Summary: Bucky helps you out. But then you discover he has paying too much atention on you.

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Warnings: mention of sexual abuse (nothing graphic), mention of financial problems, a mom and daughter family, reader being awful (for a little), fluff, angst, self loathing and Bucky calling the reader doll (that is a warning to me).

A/N: I just had this on my mind. English is not my first language so I’m pretty sure mistakes were made. Sorry in advance.

Words: 4,4k.

~

"C'mon Rogers, pick up!" You think as the telephone rings by the 10th time. It isn't your style to look for help, but this time you really need it. And even if you two aren't the best of friends, you know you can count on him. Well, everybody knows they can count on Captain America. - "Hello?" A voice you don't recognise answers. - "Who is this?" Tonight really isn't your luck night, you can't catch a break. - "Barnes. You?" Really can't catch a fucking break. You don't need a man that doesn't even look in your eyes, you need someone that you can trust. - "Oh, hi Barnes. It's (y/n). Can I speak with Rogers, please? It's important." - "Steve isn't here. He went off to some vacation time with Sharon and left his phone with me. He won't be back until tomorrow night." - "Fuck." With all the chaos that had happened you forgot about this. - "What you need, (y/l/n)?" No way you are going to tell Bucky Barnes what just happened. You know eachothers for months now and never shared a word. Not gonna happen.

- "Nothing. Thanks, bye." While you are putting the payphone back on the hook you hear him saying something but that doesn't stop you. So you just nod to the police officer besides you and follow her back to the cell on the precinc. You consider calling some other friend of yours, but you know that this would open a lot of scars to a lot of people if it gets out. So no. You got this. Looks like a night behind bars is coming your way. Definitely not your luckiest night.

--------- You are lie down on the metal bench of the cell trying to calm yourself down when an officer calls your name and yells that your bail has been paid. - "What? Who paid my bail? Nobody knows I'm here." You asked. - "He is waiting for you, go see for yourself."

Right after you cross the door you see him. Pure beauty and indifference. Bucky Barnes. Him and his usual look, jacket and gloves, so not a peak of his vibranium arms shows. In a sec your mind understands what he did. You don't even stop, just keeps walking, needing to get ouf of this place. When you feel the wind in your face and the smell of Manhattan you are able to stop and take a deep breathe for the first time in hours. So you just stand there, eyes closed, trying to take the entire city within your breath. Most people hate the smell of big citties, but you love it. It remembers you of all your teenage dreams. Bucky just stop by your side. The man really like his silence. - "Traced the number?" Is the first thing you say. - "Hmm." Is all he answers. - "How much I owe you for the bail?" - "Wanna tell me what the hell were you thinking knocking out three guys in a bar?" Well, looks like the man can form a sentence if he wants to. You look at him, right in those blue gorgeous eyes of his. You have so much anger in yours that not even the champion of stares can hold your glance. - Look man, I know you did a nice thing and all, but I did not ask you to do that. So thank you, I really appreciate it, but that does not mean I owe you an explanation or anything. And yeah, you probably don't deserve me being a bitch to you, but, right now, that is all can I can give. So I'm sorry, but excuse me. And you go off, walking without direction in the middle of the night. If you had looked back you would have seen only concern in those ocean eyes.

--------- While you enter the room in the next mornig you know you are fucked. The voice message that Tony left you telling you to come to the tower first thing made it very clear that he wasn't happy. So all you can do now is trying to keep your head straight and keep your patience. Tony, Bucky, Nat and Hill are in the conference room waiting for you. Your eyes crosses paths with Bucky's and he says "I didn't told him", shrugging his shoulders. You just nodded in response. - "And we are gonna talk about that latter, James. But firsts things first:" Tony said, turning to you "explain this" doing that thing he does with his phone and putting up a video in the middle of the room. There it is. What had pissed you off so much last night. The surveillance camera got the whole thing. You, on the bar, having a pint on your own when a guy sits by next to you. Trying to get to close. You avoiding him the best way you can. He putting a hand in your knee. You calmly taking his hand and putting on the balcony, and then you trying to get up. He putting the same hand on your thight as you were standing up and trying to pull you to his lap. You taking his hand and breaking every finger on it. He falling from the pain. Another guy trying to hit you. You kicking him in the balls with your ankle boots, and then he was in the floor, clearly screaming. The bartender trying to grab you from behind the bar. You punching him so hard in the face that he passed out at the spot. Every other costumer of that shit hole running for the exit. You trying again to leave. The first guy recovering, grabbing a beer bottle and trying to hit you from behind with it. You showing that all that training every day for years realy payed off being able to, not only, escape from his attack but taking the bottle from his hand and breaking it in his face. Then the cops getting there. You putting both your hands up and letting them arrest you. That was it. Tony just looks back at you. "So?" - "So what? I think it's clear as water what happened. The only thing missing is the audio so you could hear me saying to thar creep that if he touched me again I would break every finger of his hand. I'm a woman of my word." Nat lefts escape a small laugh. - "Nothing funny about this!" Tony is really angry "You are an avenger, (y/n)! You can not use your powers on civillians." - "I didn't use my powers!" You cut him off, because if there is one person entitle to feel angry, that person is you. "I just used my fight abilities. Anyone with a little bit of training could have done that." - "That doesn't matter! You are not responsible for just you know, everything you do can splash on the team!" - "Nobody knows I'm an avenger, Tony! That is the point of me wearing a mask. So I'm just suppose to let the man put his hand on me for the good of the fucking team?" - "That is not what I'm saying, (y/l/n)." - "What the fuck are you saying then, Tony? Because it sounds that you are pissed at me for defending myself from a criminal. That man should be behind bars, not me! Yeah, we are the avengers, we fight aliens and big guns, but a woman in distress? Whatever! You know what? I'm not having this. Have you thought that I'm probably not the first woman that this man does that? I would bet my money that he does that shit every week. And most of the girls out there can't defende themselfs. So good chances that he made a lot of woman go home crying. Why am I the only one that cares about that?" You can feel your tears coming. "Fuck you, Tony. Fuck all of this." You need to leave this place, so that is what you do. So much for keeping your patience.

----- Two blocks away from the tower and you notice that he has been following you. The angry in you is making your bad at your job. If this was a normal day you would've noticed him in two seconds. Well, maybe not him, Bucky isn't a world renowned spy/soldier for nothing. Not one word before yesterday and now it seems that the man can't leave you be. So you just stop and turns around, letting him know you made him. He doesn't stop walking your way, just slows down a little. When he gets to a hearing range you ask "Tony put you up to this? Made you follow me? I'm not going to ruin the team's name, you can be sure of that" - "You think that Stark can boss me around?" No, you don't. He stops a few feet away from you. - "So what the hell are you doing? He look at you, straight in your eyes. What's that expression on his face? Is it sadness? After a few moments he asks you, shifting his feet. - "What's the name of the guy that hurted you?" Your heart freezes. - "He didn't hurt me, Barnes. He tried to, just that. You saw the video. And I don't know his name". - "I'm not talking about last night. I'm asking about the one that actually succed in hurting you". Impossible. He doesn't know about this. Only two people know, yours oldest friends, and they would never tell nobody. - "I don't know what you are talking about it". He sighs. Yes, that is sadness you are seeing. - "I notice that you cringe when I get close to you. If it was only with me I would get it, but then I saw you having the exact same reaction when Sam, Tony.. any man that comes close to you. Even Steve, and Steve doesn't scare anyone, he is the best man on the land. That and what you did last night, the things you just said in the conference room.... It doesn't take a genius to know that one plus one equals two." You are on the edge of a full collapse. You don't even know what shocks you the most right now: that Bucky Barnes has been paying this much attention to you or that he cares enough to confront you about it. Or the fact that your trauma is so exposed. You thought that it was behind you. Obviously it isn't. - His name doesn't matter. He is in the past. You feel like screaming your lungs out and crying, but Bucky is right there looking at you, so you don't do that. Instead you kick the trash can that is besides you. And kick. And kick. And you imagine is the face of that horrible man. The face you would never forget. So you punch it. But without releasing your powers. You don't want Tony to be mad. The trash is all on the street now. You hear Bucky telling the people on the street to just keep walking, that there isn't nothing to see in there. And you keep on punching the trash, the street, anything. You just keep punching until your pain takes you out completely and you fell on your knees, in the middle of the garbage, tears falling out. And you just cry. You feel someone picking you up from that chaos and you hear bucky's voice "c'mon doll, you don't deserve to be in the trash. lets take you out of here". He puts you up, but support you with his arm. He begins to walk and your legs start to copy his move. You lost track of time, but one moment you regain control of yourself. Bucky realises that and stops, letting you to try to stand on your own. - "You okay, doll?" You never imagined that you would like being called a doll. You are not a doll, you are a person, with her own mind. But the way Bucky says it makes you feel warm and safe. Falling from his lips you like it. - "Am I smelling like trash?" Is the first thing that came in your mind and the moment the words were out you regreted. Who says things like that? Who says things like that in front of the sexiest man alive? You should go home, take a shower and stay in bed for the rest of your life. But that question makes Bucky give out a little laugh, and that helps you feel okay. - "No, you smell great as you always do. I didn't let you be around the trash for that long. But again, are you okay, doll?" - "Yeah. Twice in two days that someone rescue me. That is not normal for me. Thank you, Barnes. With all my heart, thank you". - "Twice in two days and you still don't call me by my name." He scoffs. And that makes you smile. - "Thank you, Bucky!" He sees your little smile, and that make him let go of the tension he had been carrying around since you called Steve's phone last night. - "You're welcome." You start to look around and discover that you are in the corner of 54st and 5th. You don't remember how you got there, but it's not that far from the tower, so he didn't had to carry you for long. An ideia pass your mind. Doing something that always cheers you up. And the super soldier is still looking at you, trying to understand what to do next. - "Look, I thought of something that will help me now. So, again, thank you Bucky! Really! For everything. I will never forget this. If you can please just keep my secret between us, I would appreciate it." - "Of course, doll. I will never tell anyone. You good? I know you aren't, but.... are you?" -"I will be. Don't worry." -"Do you want some company? On the thing that will help you?" You smile. That would've been fun. -"No need, Bucky. You have done enough." -"I didn't ask if there was need, I asked if you want it." Man, nothings passes the Winter Soldier, does it? -"Only if you promess you won't judge". -"I would never". The truth is you judge yourself a little" -"Let's see" and you start to walk down 5th avenue.

---- When you get to the corner of 50st and 5th you stop turns to him, because you need to explain. Hell, the man already knows your biggest secret and stood by you, what is this in comparison? -"Okay, so let me just tell you something" You are feeling better already, the four blocks with Bucky on your side, without saying a word helped you to find yourlsef again. "I grew up on a town that had nothing to do. Nothing. My family is just my mom and me, and she worked from 8 to 8, monday to friday. But in the weekends we always went to the mall in the next town. It was our thing We used to go the movies, ate at McDonalds, and eye shopping since we didn't had money to buy anything. All those beautifull things we couldn't had. And that stuck with me. I know it sounds kinda sad, but it isn't. So now when I feel down and homesick I go eye shopping too, but with better options. Now I don't see small town stores, now I see clothes that are almos art, so incredible they belong in a museum." Bucky had listening to every word you said like his life deppend on it, but when you were over he starts to look around until he understands. He left an "Oh no" escape. Of course he knows where he is, growing up in New York. This place has been out here even before he was born, and that is a lot. - "Oh yeeeees" you start to laugh at his face. "But for real now, you don't have to do this. I'm okay. Espeacilly here. I know this place better than my own house, and I would never lost my temper in front of high luxury brands." You are actually wishin real bad tha he stays, but you can't ask him that. He had done way too much already, and he doesn't owe you anything. - "Will you believe me if I tell you I never put a foot on this place, babydoll?" Babydoll now? What is this? And why you get butterflies hearing Bucky say it? - "Ok, I can't let this goes on. Lets go inside!" And you star to make these stupid little jumps you do when you are happy as you move towards the Saks, without realising. And again you don't look back, but if you did you would see the most mesmerizing smile on the most handsome man. He follows you and meets you by the entrance. Saks is like Disney for you. All the wonder, the magic. And that shows in your face. Bucky notices it. The way you are happy in here. He wishes you could be happy like this with him, but you would never guessed that. - "So now I know where you spend all your money" Bucky says, whitout even realising it. He just wanted to be a part of this. Be a part of one happy memory of yours, not only police stations and trash. - "Nah, like I said, it's eye shopping. I'm pretty basic when comes to clothes. There is a difference between what you think it looks good on others and what fits you. You know? But I admit, the shoes are tempting." Bucky didn't know. He thinks that everything fits you. You two just kept walking in the store in a comfortable silence, just looking it. You looking at everything and Bucky looking at you. You are completely on your space, just being. Until you start to miss something. His presence. Where is Bucky? You start to look for him, retracing your steps, and find him looking at a killer McQueen leather jacket. -"You should go for it. It would look perfect on you" You say, unable to resist. You weren't lying. That combination would leave all the women in the the state of New York staring at Bucky. Like that doesn't happen already. -"Did you see the price on this thing? This is absurd" You sighed. Sometimes he does shows his age. - "It's a McQueen. If you treat her well, your kids could inherited her. That is the thing with these types of clothes, they can outlive you, and they never losw their vallue, and their are never out of style". - "I'm 106, doll. I don't think a jacket can outlive me". That makes you burst untill full laugh, Bucky following along. Not because he thinks he's funny, but because if you laugh, he laughs. And in this moment he starts to understand that. A noise from your phone takes both of you out off your the laughing transe. You take it off your pocket and sees a message from your therapist saying a spot just opened up and asking if you could meet her in 30 minutes. You had forgotten that you asked her if you two could meet when you left the conference room. It seems like days ago. You were loving your time with Bucky, but you know you need this, so you texted her back saying that you would be there. - "Sorry Bucky, I have to go. I can't thank you enough for what you did." -"Everything okay?" Now you can see the look of concern in his face, and you don't know how to react to that. - "Yeah, yeah. My therapist just texted me to say that she can see me in half an hour. But it's all the way back in Brooklyn, so I should be going. I'm really sorry to leave you here with her, the perfect jacket, but I know I need this now". - "No problem, you should do whats best for you" - "Thanks, Bucky" you say, laying a sweet kiss on his cheek. Where this came from? You have no idea, but you are too tired too care. So you go, leaving the greatest man you have ever meet, in one of your favorite places. You are almost at the escalator when hear him saying something. - "It's working for you?" Bucky asks, but you don't really understand. -"Sorry?" - "Therapy. Does it work for you?" - "Oh yeah. I mean, I know I've been awful since yesterday but, believe me, if I didn't go to therapy I would have done something way worst than destroying a trash can and crying on top of garbage. Why are you asking this, Bucky?" - "Oh, nothing". You aren't as good as him when it comes to reading people, but even you could spot that lie. - "So now you know two of my secrets, but you won't tell me the truth? Really, Barnes?" He sighed, looking to the floor. Did you say something wrong? You were almost apologising when he gave you his honest answer. - "I've been doing some mandatory therapy, but I don't see a lot of results". You didn't know him very well, but you knew enough to feel important when he spoke this truth to you. Bucky Barnes is not a man that tell his hearth truths to anyone. That makes you bring in your A game. He helped you so much in those last hours, you want to do the same to him. - "Have you talked to your therapist about it? Because the way I see it, everybody needs a therapist. You, me, everybody in this store, in this block, in the fucking planet. Everybody. But, you see, everybody is different. Which means everybody have different responses to different therapies. That's why that are so many of styles. Because what may work for me, may not work for you. So, be honest with your therapist and with yourself. Maybe he/she can change some things and you get a better response. Just don't give up. You deserve to be happy, Bucky. You deserve to let go of your past and start a future you can be really proud off." As you were saying the words you saw Bucky getting uncomfortable, and when you told him he deserves to be happy you saw as he rooled his eyes so much that all the blue got lost to the white. - "You are giving me too much credit, doll." -"Why?" - "I don't think happiness is stored for me" - "Well, I'm sure off it. Do you wanna know why?" - "Why?" - "You were on the carnival on Coney Island last month, weren't you?" He wasn't expecting that. - "What?" - " Yes or no?" - "Yeah, I was, but what that has to do with anything?" - "I saw you, Bucky. I saw you winning the biggest stuffed bear for that little kid that was trying for so long but wasn't able to hit all the marks. I saw you just going there, winning and then giving your prize to the kid with a wink. I saw that. I also saw you helping people with their aim at the shooting range at the tower. I also saw you filling up the groceries list with everyones favorites so it never ran out. and I also saw you following a girl that had been so rude to you the day before because you wanted to know if she was alright. And you did that thinking nobody was noticing. Without expecting any kind of rewards. You just did it because you are good. And people like you are rare. And people like you deserve to be happy." He had the biggest shocked look at his face when you finished talking. Yeah, Bucky, you weren't the only one paying attention. You were gonna loose your appointment if you didn't leave soon, but there was just one more thing you needed to say. - "Still on earth, Bucky?" - "I'm listening, doll." - "Before, you told me that you thought it was okay if I cringe by your approximation. I would never. And nobody thinks about you this way anymore. Only yourself Stop thinking these things of yourself. Please." And with that, you were gone, leaving Bucky without words, planted in the middle of Saks. It took him quite some time to move.

_____ Waking up the next morning Bucky could not stopping thinking about you. Were you okay? Did the encounter with your therapist help you? When he was gonna see you again? What was the name of the guy? He was gonna kill him. Yesterday night Stark called a meeting with everyone. Steve had already arrived from his off days, so everybody was present. Something had changed since that morning because now Stark were deffending you and was asking for a manhunt to find that guy from the bar. Bucky hadn't told anything to anyone. And in the same meeting Stark also told the whole team that you where taking some weeks off. So all that Bucky could do was hope that you are okay. While he takes a shower and gets ready for the day he replays all the amazing things you told him, and that lights up a little spark on his heart, but then he remembers all the terrible deeds he made in the past and all you had to suffer in your life. You deserves to be the happiest person on earth, and he knows he isn't the one that was going to help you achieve that. But a man is allow to dream. So he left his mind go wandering about you, your smile and the things he would do to make you happy. He gets to the kitchen still daydreaming when Steve's voice wakes him up. - "Crazy what happened to (y/n)." - "Hmm" - "There is a package to you. There" Steve points out to the other side of the giant kitchen island. "No sender, but the guys downstairs checked up. It's not a bomb" - "And why would someone send me a bomb?" - "I don't know. My guess is that it wouldn't be the first time someone tries to kill you this way" He wasn't wrong about that. Bucky opens up the package and the first thing he sees is a hadwritten note. I really do think that the world needs Bucky Barnes in these. There is always room for more beauty out there. Can you do me a favor? Every time you wear it remember the great man you are and how happy you deserve to be. Hope to see you when I get back. But in case you need someone to bail you ot of jail, some company while eye shopping or anything else just give me a call. Behind the note, involved in silk, it was the leather jacket from yesterday. Steve was wrong. This was a type of bomb.

[spacesuitsforemergency]

Oops!...I Did It Again

Word Count: 1.8k

Requested by @must-be-ryan: Oneshot idea (maybe?): Music Meister learning he has a kid in their early teens who just discovered their powers and followed in his footsteps

A/N: I tweaked it slightly so that he already knew his daughter. And btw her powers are so that she can speak and people will do as she says. Singing too, but just talking will do the trick. Also I’m literally the dumbest person on earth, I kept misspelling ‘sandwich’. I wrote this while listening to the High School Musical soundtracks

Music Meister Tagging: @silverdecepticon93

“Dad!” You shout in panic. “Help me!”

You watch as your dad comes barreling down the grand staircase of the mansion (which he had used his powers to “buy”), nearly slipping on the marble floors. It was way more hilarious because he was still in his pajamas, and had shaving cream on half his face.

He looks around the foyer, expecting to see danger, but everything looks normal. The only thing that tipped him off was his daughter standing in the front doorway, and the mail man was passed out on the porch.

“What happened?” He asked, joining you in the doorway and peering down at the dude.

“I don’t know! The guy told me to have a nice day, I said ‘drop dead’ and he just fell!” You gesture down to the man you potentially just killed.

“First of all, when someone says ‘have a nice day’, the proper response is ‘you too’.” Your dad corrects. “Second of all, is he actually dead?”

“I don’t know! Why do you think I yelled for help?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

Dennis reaches down and finds the mail mans pulse, sighing in relief when there is indeed one.

“He’s not dead...” he stands back up. “How did you do that?”

“What part of ‘I don’t know’ do you not understand?” You cross your arms, frustrated because you’re freaking out and he’s not helping so far.

“Is that sass, Missy?” He puts a hand on his hip.

“Dad! You’re not helping!”

“Okay, okay!” He nods, racking his brain for ideas. Then it hits him. “Oh my god, my darling! You must have developed your powers!”

“What? I thought you said I was too old to get them anymore?” You ask as he wraps you in a bear hug, picking you up and twirling.

“Well I guess that was one of the rare moments I was wrong!” He cheers joyfully as he sets you down. “Okay, tell me to do something.”

“Uh...make me a sandwich?” You shrug.

Nothing happens.

“Try to add a little...emotion. Show me some urgency!” He snaps his fingers. “Give me some pizzazz!”

“Make me a sandwich!” You yell at him, making sure to pour out your frustration.

He suddenly looses emotion in his face, and at first you’re kind of freaked out. Then he robotically moves to the kitchen, opening the fridge and cupboards as he gathers sandwich ingredients. You watch with your jaw dropped as he actually makes you a sandwich, and he blinks as soon as it’s finished. He looks around in confusion, staring at the sandwich in his hands.

“Why am I making a sandwich?” He asked after a minute.

“Holy shit! I did it!” You shout in glee.

“I have taught you better manners than that, but holy shit indeed!” He mirrors your excitement as he runs back over to you. “My baby girl is all grown up!”

“Now, what do we do about the mail man?” You point to him.

“Hm. I’ll take care of this. You go eat, you need some energy for the day we’re going to have!” He grins.

“What are we doing?” You ask.

“My dear, darling daughter, we are celebrating!” He sang. “I’ve been waiting for this day for 15 years! You are getting proper attire for villainy, and we are planning your first heist tonight!”

“Aw! Dad!” You groan in disgust when he kissed you on top of the head, his shaving cream getting in your hair. “Thanks a lot! Now I have to wash my hair again!”

•

“So what color scheme are we going for?” Your dad asks.

“I am not wearing your hideous green and purple.” You mumble as you stare at the stuff he already picked out in resentment. You were currently in some department store, picking out your new villain fit with your dad.

The past couple hours were almost torture, your dad just wouldn’t stop fawning over you. He was so excited and proud though, you couldn’t even get angry at the guy. He was thrilled to begin passing the torch down to you, and both of you were eager to get started.

“Um, I think you mean the gorgeous combination of lime and violet?” He scoffs, clearly offended. “It is one of the only things me and my dear friend Edward can agree on.”

“Well you and your dear friend Edward are wrong.” You shake your head.

“Y/N, it is not rocket science. Just pick something. We still need to give you a name.” He shoved the rack of clothing at you.

“Oh, I picked that out when I was 9.” You say, finally actually looking through the clothes, despite already knowing you wouldn’t like any of it.

Even after your father gave you the news that you would most likely not develop powers since you had passed the age he had received them, you still wanted them. You wanted to become just like your dad, he was your idol. You of course would never tell him that, his ego was way too big already.

“You...you did?” His voice cracks, a smile making its way to his face as he tears up.

“Are we really getting sappy right now?” You sigh.

“No!” He quickly wiped his tears. “No, of course not. What is it, dear? Tell me.”

“Siren. Hypnotic powers through voice? What do you think?” You grin.

“It’s fitting, dramatic, mysterious, threatening. I love it!” He hugs you for about the millionth time today. “Honey you have no idea how happy I am to hear that!”

“Hear what?” You wheeze from the tight hug.

“To hear that you picked out a name! To hear that you’ve wanted this for so long!” He finally let’s go to let you breathe properly. “Now, Siren, have you choosen your attire?”

“Yeah yeah. I hate it though.” You say sarcastically, pretending to be disgusted by the color combo.

You stuff the clothes into your bag, both of you getting ready to slip past the workers. You hear someone clear your throat behind you, and see Karen the Manager. The worst villain of all.

“I’m calling security. Don’t think I didn’t see that.” She sniped at you, sneering at the both of you before saying into her com; “We got a couple of lowlifes trying to smuggle some merchandise.”

“Lowlifes, Karen?” You glare at her. “You can just drop dead, lady!”

Then she falls to the ground.

“Oops, I did it again.” You wince.

“Lesson Number 1, you have got to stop saying that to people.” Your father shakes his head at you. “Not to worry! But we should get out of here before-“

“Hey! Stop right there!” A mall security guard shouts from the entrance of the store.

“Dad, what do we do?” You ask, panicked at this point.

“This is perfect practice! Siren, if you will.” He gestures to the guards coming for the both of you.

“What?!” Your eyes widen.

“Go on!” He nudges you, like a mother bird kicking its hatchling out of the nest. “Lesson Number 2, come up with it on the spot!”

“Stop!” You shout at the guards, and they freeze. “Okay uh...let us go. This never happened.”

“This never happened.” The 3 men nod, still frozen.

You and your dad creep past them, then book it out of the department store. You race down the hallways of the mall, shoving people out of your way. More mall cops pursue you as you dash towards the doors.

“Get the car! I’m right behind you!” Your dad pushes you through the doors.

“But I can’t drive!” You protest as he tosses you the keys.

“Lesson Number 3, go with the flow, my dear!” He grins before turning to deal with the guards.

You reluctantly rush to the car, not really sure how to even start it. You quickly figure it out, then drive to the entrance. Your dad sprints out a moment later, practically falling into the car.

“Step on it!” He screeches as police cars pull up from behind you.

You speed forward, barreling down the road. Your dad grabs the wheel to help guide you, while also looking back every so often to watch the police cars in pursuit.

“This is a lot of trouble for the ugliest outfit ever!” You yell in alarm as you nearly rear end someone, but your dad quickly swerves.

“It’s for the drama, darling!” Your dad beams, turning the radio on. “Plus the publicity!”

“Ew, this song is awful.” You scrunch your nose when he doesn’t change the station.

“I’m a little busy at the moment!” He yells, taking out his music staff and shooting music beams at the police from the sunroof.

You finally lose the cops after awhile, your dad plopping back into the passenger seat. When you make it to your house you stumble out of the car, shaking from the adrenaline rush.

“I’d say that went pretty well for your first crime.” He says after a few moments of silence.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You groan.

“Wasn’t that such a thrill?” He ignores you, strutting up to the door. “How do you feel?”

You respond by throwing up in the well trimmed bushes, Dennis cringing as his daughters’ retches. He inches towards you, awkwardly rubbing your back in a weak attempt to comfort you. When you finish he guides you inside and to the table, quickly grabbing you a glass of water.

“You’re okay right?” He asks, concerned. “I didn’t freak you out, did I? I’m a horrible father, I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I’ve scarred you for life! I am a disgrace! An imbecile! Wretched! Diabolical! Heinous! Wick-!”

“Chillax, drama queen.” You giggle. “The only thing I’m scarred with is the fear of driving ever again.”

“So...you’re okay?” He asks timidly.

“Of course, that was awesome!” You grin. “Did you see me beat Karen? And the cops? And when I almost hit that one guy crossing the road but I didn’t? I just committed my first felony!”

“Hell yeah, you did!” He cheered, giving you the most over the top high five ever. “So I didn’t give my baby any emotional trauma?”

“No, dude! That was so cool! I’m so ready for the next heist!” You give him your best evil grin.

“Thank god, because I already got these custom made.” He pulls a case out of his pocket, opening it to reveal a pair of visors identical to his.

You smile up at him, and this time you initiated the hug. You thank him and kiss him on the cheek, before taking the visor and putting it on. You look in the reflection of the wall length window, then turn to your dad, who has a proud smile on his face.

“How do I look?” You ask.

“You look all grown up...” Dennis sniffles, tearing up once again.

“Dad!”

“I’m sorry! I promise I’ll stop crying one of these days!”

[space-------kid]

come on.

Anime/Manga: One Punch Man Pairing: one-sided Garou/fem!Reader Genre: Romance, angst Word count: 1810 Warning: Mentions of past (sexual) abuse, non-consensual touching, trespassing, mentions of violence.

Summary: Despite his best efforts to stay away, Garou kept finding his way back to you.

Meanwhile, you spend your nights crying yourself to sleep. You wake up feeling safe and protected one night. [EDITED]

i. sorrow. | iii. cure.

“thinking back before her, i never knew the meaning of

                                          alone.”

-come on/ben jelen

Ever since he had come to the realization that the world was and would never be fair, Garou decided that he would never rely on anyone else.

Being alone was much more preferable than having someone else for company that would eventually hurt him. The kids who bullied him when he was a child, the teacher who blamed himself for others’ faults, that damned kid’s show he used to watch who kept on crushing a monster’s dream to win just this fucking once-

No, Garou told himself. No more. Never again.

Alone was what he had, and it was what protected him.

And it wasn’t really a lonely notion to have no one else but yourself. Only weak people sought the company of others, and Garou certainly was not weak.

He didn’t need anyone else.

Never.

But he couldn’t convince himself to fully believe what he once had thought to be a good thing, not when he found himself standing on your balcony in the middle of the night.

He would never forget the day he walked out of those glass sliding doors and left you crying inside your home. He had never stopped kicking himself for taking things too fast, for being too damn greedy and acting on impulse.

You told him of your past trauma and there he went, doing exactly the same thing sans the violence.

Why didn’t Garou listen to that tiny voice in his mind that kept on pleading and reasoning out for him to stop?

Why did he have to fuck things up?

He wanted to be a monster that could easily take down any hero in his path, not the monster who would now torment you in your sleep.

Garou gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

Was that what he was to you now? A monster? Did he replace the one who maltreated you before?

He didn’t want to be a monster in your eyes, and the realization hit Garou like a bullet.

Angry at your past abuser, angry at breaking your trust, and angry at himself, Garou forced himself to leave for now.

 .

 His thoughts would instantly drift to you whenever he patched himself up after beating some heroes.

Admittedly, and painfully so, Garou missed the way you fussed over him as you checked and treated his injuries. He missed the slight waver in your voice as you reminded him to look after himself in a fight, told him that it was alright to engage in a brawl but to always remember the safety of his well-being.

It was a funny thought, really. A volunteer nurse, asking him to keep safe while he beat up heroes.

Garou smirked wistfully at the thought.

He also missed the way your hands worked to treat him. How steady they were despite your shaking voice, how light yet sure their movements were as you stitched some of his wounds. He missed the feather-light touches of your fingers on his skin as you probed his chest for any sign of bruises or broken ribs, and how red bloomed on your cheeks every time.

“Why’s your face so red?” he asked you when he took off his shirt for the first time to let you asses the pain on his ribs that he complained about once.

The way your gaze turned flustered and defensive drew a smirk on his lips, eyebrow raised as you tried to save face and kept your gaze anywhere but his exposed skin.

“Nothing. It’s- it’s nothing.”

“Nothing, huh...”

Garou watched with mounting amusement as you bit your lip and resigned yourself with the task you had in mind. The tables turned, however, the moment your fingers tentatively touched his skin.

“Do you mind if I...?”

He only nodded in response, eyes rapt with attention as you gently probed for broken ribs through the bruises that were beginning to bloom on the pale expanse of his torso-

.

.

.

.

-golden eyes shining with what you could only identify as hunger as Garou cornered you against the wall and pressed his body against yours despite your protestations, his face transforming into the grinning visage of the man who hurt you in the past.

[Color] eyes snapped open before your mind could take you deeper into a dream that had quickly spiraled into a nightmare, your chest heaving as you breathed harshly under your sheets.

It had been two weeks since that incident with Garou and your nightmares turned for the worse. You had been getting them ever since he left, turning darker and more terrifying the day you saw him again and fled like a hunted bird.

Garou is my friend.

Tears ran unbidden down your face as you curled on the bed, wracking your brain for reasons - any at all - as to why Garou acted the way he did that day. Did you do something that displeased him? Were you being too annoying with your constant reminders to keep himself safe? Was he getting tired of you fussing over him?

You shook your head, denying - but failing - your own thoughts.

You had been feeling so alone, and to finally have someone who would not even think to judge you for the horrible experiences you’ve had in the past was something you had always wanted and found in Garou. He may be odd sometimes, switching from playful to brooding at times, but he was the most genuine person you’d ever had the privilege of meeting. Despite his desire to crush defeat the heroes and the Association itself, he would always be the hero who saved you from your nightmares and drove away the demons plaguing your mind thereafter.

You had only known him for a short time, but he had been nice to you. Kind, even.

But what made him change? What made his touches linger for longer than necessary, made his gaze constantly zero in on you with an intensity that made your heart beat faster, made him displeased when you talk about your workmates?

“I was bullied when I was a kid. I was isolated, always being treated as if I’m a freak for admiring and rooting for the monster who only wanted to win just for once. I was that to them, the monster.”

Realization hit you like a truck and you could do nothing but cry yourself back to sleep when you remembered how you ran away from him the last time you saw him.

 .

 Tear tracks were still visible on your face, and the first time he saw you like this, Garou knew that he hated it.

He found himself standing in your balcony yet again, and this time he had braved to push aside the glass sliding door (why was it unlocked?) and step inside the one place he realized he missed.

The interior of your modest apartment was still the same, more so the feeling of calm and warmth it had to offer. Just like you, he thought. You always had that effect on him, and it bled through the place you called home.

Garou had made it to your bedroom before he knew it, down on one knee on your bedside and watching you sleep. You looked utterly distressed, brows knitted and lip pressed in a hard line. Your face was blotchy with tears you didn’t bother wiping away, and rage boiled hot and red in his mind.

Was that fucking bastard haunting you in your dreams again?

No, he corrected himself. Garou knew that he had replaced that bastard the moment he laid his hands on you against your will.

Garou was not one to regret the actions he made, but this was an exception. You were one of the few people who cared about him, and what did he do to repay your kindness?

By breaking your trust, your heart, just like what he did to old master Bang.

He wanted to apologize, he really did. But it was not pride that kept him from doing so.

He would never openly admit it, but Garou felt fear. He didn’t mind being called or seen as a monster, for fuck’s sake he reveled in it. But that didn’t mean that he would be fine with you being one of the hypocritical majority.

You were kind. You were one of the two most genuine people he’d had the privilege of meeting. And like the first one, he felt like it was a privilege he wasted.

He left Bang because they couldn’t see eye to eye. He left you because he had broken your trust.

Garou closed his eyes and let his forehead rest on the edge of your bed.

He really was a fuck up, wasn’t he?

A broken sob broke through the red haze of self-hatred in his mind and he quickly lifted his head to look at you.

Fresh tears leaked from your closed eyelids, your hands gripping the pillow you were hugging and hugging it tightly to your chest. Garou watched as your body shook lightly with each sob. He knew this kind of dream - hell, he was always present when you would have them before.

You would always initially struggle against Garou’s arms whenever you dreamed of the bastard who hurt you, whimpers and cries escaping your lips. You would tremble as if you were freezing, pleading, always pleading, for your tormentor to stop. These would always be your body’s subconscious reactions to your nightmares.

But there were times where you would lay limp against him, body shaking ever so lightly as you sobbed quietly, your hands gripping the back of Garou’s shirt like a child and hugging him tightly as if he would let go. These tells were reserved for when your nightmares revolved around you being all alone with no one to hold on to, no one to be with.

One of Garou’s hands automatically found your hair, fingers gently running through your hair and scalp. His gaze turned soft and worried, concerned that you were feeling the same way he did.

You were both alone. Needed friends. And now that you found each other, Garou just had to mess things up by letting his impulse guide him - something that he knew he should never do.

He was glad for the lack of company - he shunned them - before.

Alone was what protected him, it was his only definition for the word before he met you.

Now, he was not so sure as one of your hands found his as he continued to thread his fingers through your hair.

“...rou.”

Garou froze, trying to make sense of what you just mumbled in your sleep. He watched, fascinated, as your much smaller hand tried to wrap around his.

“Ga...”

[Color] eyes met gold as you slowly woke from your troubled dreams.

    to be continued