#not really a trauma dump it's left me more confused than traumatized

[thedawningofthehour]

...Is your dad Elon Musk?

I mean, I don't have any half-siblings that I know of, but I absolutely would not be surprised if I did. I've thought about doing one of those DNA tests (for other reasons besides that) but they're more pricy than I'd care to spend on a 'lol this would be amusing' test. I don't think he cheated on my mom or anything, not because he wouldn't do that but because he's super paranoid that people are going to steal his money. Including his own daughters. He used to send us cash in the mail for our birthdays/Christmas until he figured out money orders, (and the first year got a money order in Colorado for some reason?) so he wouldn't have to put his address on a check. What's funny is that I know where he was living then. He voted in 2020 so his address was public. I know where he works and his work number and email and shit, sometimes I want to send him a message just to be like "?????" Anyway, he hasn't sent us a card for the last three years, and I haven't seen him in seven.

Oh, the reason he does this is because he pulled some bullshit when my parents were divorcing, like quitting his highly lucrative career to work under the table with immigrants (he hates immigrants, so that thought always amused me) and buying a 40k car (on top of the truck he already had, that my mother bought with her inheritance when her father passed away) so he could claim he couldn't afford alimony or child support. For one kid, since I was eighteen by then. Now he's convinced that my mom is going to 'find' him and sue him and that's worth cutting off his children to him apparently.

Yes, this all sounds very bizarre. It doesn't make any more sense to us on the ground. Honestly, I think there's something going on with him mentally. He did a complete personality 180 when I was in middle school, and since cutting us off he has sent exactly one email to my sister-a nonsensical rant about how she 'wasn't asking the right questions' and needed to understand more about 'the different players' in my parents' divorce. (there is no juicy story in my parents' divorce-he was being a cunt and my mom got sick of his shit. I know she's not lying because my mom has no filter and cannot lie to save her life) He also claimed to have cancer, which-it feels like such an asshole move to accuse someone of lying about cancer, especially considering he actually did have a bout of cancer a few years before this, (stage I, surgically removed, no chemo and never any threat to his life) but the type of cancer he claimed to have generally does not go into remission. So...this sounds terrible to say, but I call bullshit because he'd be dead by now.

...Anyway, yeah. If my aunt called me tomorrow and said that they found a tumor in my dad's brain that was fucking with all sorts of shit, my response would be "that explains so much actually."

a drawing of Doth, the masterpiece

@thedawningofthehour

So, I was reading Third From the Son, DOTH, by Faiakishi, and I got to that infamous moment where Galois yells at Leo about his brother being dead and being consumed by crabs at the bottom of the ocean. If in itself the scene of him on the verge of a mental breakdown due to the sadness, confusion and guilt (among other emotions) that thinking about Donatello causes him and his ending brought me strong images, this definitely cements them. As is my custom, I had to use my older sibling's cell phone to draw.

I did my best, don't strangle me too hard. I tried!

I really like this work and its construction, not only of characters, but of worlds. I had made other drawings before, but I didn't dare to upload them. hope you like.

[ruminate88]

Trust Me Now ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Whenever Cody and I were apart the 1st time, I wrote this song “Trust Me Now” believing Cody has trust issues and that’s why we’re apart… hah I knew Cody had told me some things about his childhood that made me feel sorry for him but when suddenly dumped me, I was shook like… what did I do wrong? I could feel cody pushing me away and not letting me close but I didn’t understand it AT ALL. I believed he just needed “more love” and for that summer we were apart, I wrote him sooo many songs and cried over him. I was sexting 10000 guys that summer sending my nudes, trying to “get over cody” and I could not. Cody went from making me feel so very special and as if he’s the only one who could ever understand me to now I’m sooooo confused and very very sad. I said okay to the breakup. He said he needed space and that he was going to be “in the studio all summer finishing his EP”. Sure… I tried to understand but could not. I sent him a very long text saying I still love him and he reads it but doesn’t reply. I was physically so sick that night. I shook and violently threw up for hours over him 😓💔

When summer ended, I wished him happy birthday and suddenly Cody is messaging me again. He tells me he finished his song, would I go to Apple Music and listen to it? I paid the .99 for the song and actually liked the song a lot. Cody confesses he has a new GF and doesn’t wanna cheat. Also I share all my songs with Cody that I wrote about him all summer and he has very little positive things to say. The song most emotional and sad for me, he says, “well I don’t like the fish tank sound in the background” …. 😝 of course he can’t compliment me, support me or feel sorry for me being heart broken. I realize that now but back then, I apologized to him for the fish tank sound in the background and yes I wondered why he didn’t react to my song but I was just happy we were texting again ❤️‍🩹

Despite Cody telling me he has this “new gf” we’re back to sexting and flirting. He calls me his queen and says he’s never stopped being obsessed with me 😳🥴 wow… sadly I ate it up and believed whatever he told me. I was desperate not to lose him again.

often I wonder had he not ghosted me and pushed me away, would I have moved my life out to him and would I have put up with him?? I realize more than ever despite my love and feelings, I can’t heal him or change him. I don’t want to change him. He’s enough just how he is and yeah maybe he has some things personally to deal with. It’s between him and God. I know now just how manipulative he really was but it hasn’t changed my opinions of him. Cody wasn’t my 1st love or my 1st Bf but he was the 1st guy I ever considered to be really really special to me. I told Cody secrets I don’t tell everyone about me. I felt like I could open up to him and that he really understood what I was going through ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 guess he’s just really good at mirroring me.

if Cody hadn’t ghosted me, I wouldn’t have met Andrew or my husband but it’s been so long that Cody left a big gaping hole in my heart and it hurt so much. I was completely traumatized by Cody ghosting me but didn’t know why it made me feel numb and cold. I felt like my world went completely black. No light for months. Not until I met Andrew ❤️‍🩹 I think about Andrew most of the time but I never forget Cody and here lately I’ve dreamt of Cody a few nights in a row then I wake up thinking of his face and struggle to get back to sleep. Cody won’t ever apologize or admit he ran away from me. He won’t admit he made me believe we were friends and that he meant so much to me. The first selfie he sent to me after telling me how I made him feel special, wow I was crying at how beautiful I thought he was. I couldn’t believe he was in my life at that time he talked me out of suicide!! ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹😭😭😭 he’ll never know or understand what he means to me.

idk what part of his “childhood trauma” was real or a lie but he made me feel sorry for him and I totally had my heart wide open for Cody!!! No strings attached. He had total control as I was in complete surrender to him. I trusted him when he helped me through my 1st suicide attack. Not knowing he would ruin my life when he ghost. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

#dearcody

[mithliya]

hi. you dont have to reply to this ask if you dont want to or if you do you can make it public Idm. also I dont mean to trauma dump so pls just delete this because tbh its too much. tl;dr at start Im starting to doubt my sexuality despite being in late 20s. also, tw sex, rape, csa, cocsa, etc. so, I've always known I kinda like girls and that Im more likely bi than straight. I was in love with one during highschool and I felt intense sexual attraction towards a close friend in uni. I was p far left back then so I thought this must be that demisexual thing where you only feel attraction once you get to know people LMAO. then I had some crushes on guys here and there, was virgin till 24 and then slept around way too much with guys. never had experience with a woman. now Im in proper relationship with a really nice guy. recently I started watching a show and identifies way too much with a lesbian character. like from how she acts to what she says regarding women she feels attracted to. I havent been able to sleep for past two nights and Im starting to wonder if I even feel attracted to him.

until we recently moved in together we had sex. a lot. but I had a meltdown because of past sexual trauma, all the sleeping around because of other reasons than wanting to have sex, (loneliness, low self esteem) csa and cocsa at hands of female relatives, so that also confuses me. we havent had regular sex, maybe once in a month. and last time I was hoping it to end soon and just waited it out. I dont blame my bf, hes never done anything wrong, and I was the one who told him to keep going. ofc I had told him Im bi but now Im so unsure if about what even attraction means. I honestly never felt that intense attraction towards a guy, ever. Ive felt that with several women, like random passerbyers and such. some women I couldnt take eyes off of and had to just move along because I felt like a creep (which also factors in me not wanting to look at women In That Way because thats how men look at women and its just hella confusing as a fellow woman who doesnt want to objectified by men either) Idk how much Im convincing myself I love men and society has brainwashed me. Idk what Im wishing to get out of this, Im just stressed I dont love my bf in That Way and this is just platonic love, that Ive convinced myself into doing even stuff like kissing and hugging because Thats What Im Supposed To Do.

anyway, thank you if you read it so far, thank you for your time. I would really like some advice if you have any but you also dont have to if you dont want to. btw I love your blog and if you cant tell I follow you on here. keep up the good work. <3 I hope you have a nice day!

aww that really sounds stressful and like a difficult situation anon :( honestly i think many lesbian & bi women go through some moments of doubt and confusion at least at one point in our lives so you’re not alone there. tbh i would encourage talking your feelings out with someone who knows you well and someone you trust, they can help give you perspective. sometimes we identify with something a lot that it can confuse us in many ways. and if possible, maybe experiment with women? it’s kinda hard to understand your attraction when it’s kinda just .. abstract?

to me it sounds like you may indeed be bi & maybe cycling (bi cycle) or perhaps you have a strong preference and are just realising it. however, i can’t determine your sexuality for u as i do not know you. this is why id recommend experimenting but of course you should be transparent with everyone involved (your boyfriend- idk whether you’d ask him if it’s possible to be open or something else, and whichever woman you experiment with). i overthink and doubt myself a lot and actually being with a woman definitely helped me. pushing myself to be with men to “test” whether im into them was personally highly traumatic for me so if someone thinks they’re a lesbian but has never been with a man & isn’t sure if they’re into it… id highly recommend NOT trying. getting clarity faster will never be better than not pushing your own boundaries and risking traumatising yourself. to me it sounds like you really need to be single right now and just explore yourself and try being with a woman and see how you feel from there. there’s also no shame in being unsure and not labelling your sexuality either.

also facing previous trauma like CSA especially can really make it hard to understand your sexuality, from my experience most bi & lesbian women who go through such intense confusion and identity disturbances like what u described have faced CSA too.. so you really aren’t alone there ❤️❤️ i wish you luck anon. you’ll figure it out you just need to give urself space and time

[rainy-day-gracie]

Old Friends 2

spencer reid x reader

BTW I kinda imagined this around season 7 Spencer, but you can do whatever you want :)

Chapter 3 has been posted!!

Chapter 2: 

Garcia had a multitude of questions. 

“How long did you guys date? Was he super different back then? Did you guys do the hanky panky? What-“

 I was laughing so hard tears were getting in my eyes. “Garcia, stop. I am not answering questions like that.”

Emily, JJ, and I were all holed up in Penelope’s office. Her colorful knickknacks and stress balls made me smile, and the ladies and I were starting to really form a bond. 

 Emily put her hand on my forearm, faking seriousness. “Okay but- did you?” 

   I turned even redder than I was before. “Well-“

 “Oh my god, that’s a yes!” JJ exclaimed. “Dr. Reid has game!”

 “I’ll say,” I giggled, which caused them to erupt into even more laughter. 

A knock at the door was barely heard over the ruckus of four grown women giggling like teens. Hotch opened the door quickly. “We have a case. It’s kids.” 

A silence quickly fell over the room, and we all left in an instant. 

This was my first case with kids. I knew from the moment we sat down in the BAU room that this was going to be a bad one. 

“In Cedar Crest, New Mexico, two nine and ten year old boys have been found, dead, with both of their shoulders dislocated. Cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head.” Garcia pointed to the TV with sad eyes. I looked down at my hands, avoiding the images of the dead boys. “Both showed signs of sexual assault.”

“We know from experience preferential offenders don’t stop until they’re caught, and work their kills methodically and carefully.” Hotch explained in a low voice. “Wheels up in 10.” 

---

“Small towns like this are hard to build a profile around. There’s too much overlap in residents, and Cedar Crest has a population of 958 people.” Spencer glanced over to me, no doubt taking notice of my silence. 

“Alright, when we land, Prentiss and JJ, you are going to interview the families, Morgan and Rossi you’re with me at the dump sites, and Reid and YLN, go to the ME and see what you can find out.” Hotch gave the orders swiftly, not noticing my quiet intake of breath. 

Spencer leaned over quietly and gave my hand a small squeeze. “The first case with kids is always the hardest.” 

---

The ME was good at her job. She explained all the grisly details quickly and without pause.

Walking out of the morgue was like being able to breathe again. I suddenly felt nauseous, and quickly threw up my breakfast over the sidewalk. Spencer wasted no time in holding my hair back until I was done vomiting. 

 “Sorry... this is my first case with kids. When I was a psychologist I studied children with traumatic pasts, but seeing...” I said all of this quickly and tears brimmed my eyes. I looked up at Spencer, his warm hands keeping steady on my shoulders. 

“It’s rough, but we can’t let it distract us from catching this guy.” I took a deep breath and he let go of my shoulders. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, YFN. We are going to get him.” 

Spencer’s phone rang, and both of us seemed to snap out of the trance we were in. “Hey what’s up?” He shut his eyes and sighed. “Okay, see you later.” 

“What is it?”

“He just picked up another kid. Warren Jacobs, 10 year old boy.” 

---

Patrick Younger is a 26 year old man. He’s lived alone all of his adult years and just recently got a job at the local elementary school as a janitor. 

“Patrick Younger, FBI!” Morgan yelled. Spencer wasn’t lying when he said Morgan can sure kick down a door. 

“Split up and search the house,” Hotch ordered. 

I was the lucky one that got the basement. Walking down those stairs felt like I was trapped inside a horror movie. 

The first thing I saw was the small child chained in the corner. And then there was the plate that smashed into my head. 

I collapsed on the floor, dropping my gun on the way down. I scrambled away from Younger, stood up and faced him with my arms stretched in front of me. Younger wasn’t sure what to do next. 

“Patrick, it’s okay.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth, and the sting on my forehead was making it hard to concentrate. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt any of those kids. You loved them.” I inched my feet forward, slowly. 

 He started tearing up, glancing over at the child, Warren, crying and chained in the corner. Blood was dripping in my eyes. “I-I did. I loved them.”

“I know you did, Patrick.” I spoke sweetly, looking him dead in the eyes. 

My fist on his jaw knocked him to the ground. The other fist on his jaw was to make sure he stayed down. And the kick to the balls was just for me. 

I flipped him over, pulling the handcuffs out of my pocket. “You are one sick son of a bitch. I got Younger and Warren!” I called upstairs. The team came rushing down to the basement, and I handed Younger over to Morgan. 

“Are you going to take me home?” A small voice called from the corner.

I looked over into Warren’s big blue eyes. “Yes, I promise.”

---

  Spencer stayed by my side the whole time I was with medics. 

“Spencer, I promise I’m fine.” 

The medic tending to my head snorted. “Oh no you’re not. You need 11 stitches, let’s go, you can ride with the kid. It’s a miracle you don’t have a concussion.” 

Spencer looked dumbfounded. “11 stitches and you think you’re fine? How are you still this stubborn since college?”

I laughed, which made my head hurt. “Go home, Spencer.” 

 He looked confused. “Go home? I’m meeting you at the hospital whether you like it or not.” 

JJ walked up next to him. “Oh yeah, we’re all meeting you at the hospital. Those stitches are going to leave a badass scar.”

“Hey, Agent YLN. It’s time to go!” The medic called out to me from inside the ambulance. The boy, Warren, was on a stretcher inside. 

 As I was getting in, JJ called out to me. “YLN! You crushed this case by the way.” 

---

I hate hospitals. The smell of bleach and the fluorescent lights attacked my senses. 

As I was sitting on my hospital bed, drinking coffee, my room was suddenly flooded with my team members. 

“Hotch, can I go home now? All this fuss over a little cut is just nonsense.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’ll talk to the doctor.” He left, and Rossi handed me a book. 

“What’s this?”

“Think of it as an official welcoming gift from us to you.” Rossi had a twinkle in his eye as he glanced between me and Spencer. 

I looked at the cover of the book. ‘Peu de Poésie’ or ‘Little Poetry’ in English. “How did you guys know I was looking for this book?”

“We didn’t, pretty boy did.” Morgan answered, clapping Spencer on the back. “He told us you would read the English version incessantly at MIT, so we figured we’d get you the French copy as well.”

I hoped the blush on my face wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “Well, thank you guys. It means a lot.” I cast a glance at Spencer. After all this time, he still remembered what my favorite book is.

Hotch walked back in the room. “YLN... wanna go home?”

“Thank god, let’s go!”

[fallenxspirit]

Info Dump: Spirit and Eternatus

Finally doing the headcanon post I wanted to do about Spirit and Eternatus, and Spirit’s bond with the ancient pokemon. Post will be tagged with trigger warnings for PTSD. Please let me know if there are any other triggers that need to be tagged.

During the Darkest Day, both Spirit and his sister Gloria were horrendously injured by Eternatus. Spirit had the entirety of his back burned and scorched by a dragon pulse. Gloria was speared with one of Eternatus’ tendrils in its Eternamax form. Spirit stayed up from his injuries until Zacian and Zamazenta arrived, in which he proceeded to finally pass out from the pain of his injuries.

Note: Eternatus was also injured during this battle, rather severely, by the dogs.

Gloria was the one to technically catch Eternatus in this case.

However both Spirit and Gloria were “marked” by Eternatus that day, both of them left with a scar from that legendary. Both Spirit and Gloria were left traumatized from the events of the Darkest Day, including their near brushes with death.

However, Gloria transferred Eternatus over to Spirit’s care at Spirit’s request. He knew how his sister felt about the legendary pokemon, and while he didn’t want to carry Eternatus with him, he rather deal with it then force his sister into doing it.

For the first month after it’s capture, Spirit doesn’t let Eternatus out of its ball from fear that the Darkest Day may begin again if he does. Once he does work up the nerve, Spirit goes to the wild area and lets Eternatus out from the pokeball. Eternatus had mostly recovered from its own injuries from the Darkest Day, however the wound itself had not completely healed over. Eternatus was unable to properly regen itself while in the pokeball. 

Spirit is hesitant to approach the legendary pokemon, which just seems intent to stare him down. Neither do anything before Spirit steps towards Eternatus, and places a hand on the legendary’s wound. “Does it hurt?”

Eternatus doesn’t answer, but Spirit begins using potions and a bit of fae magic to take care of the remaining wound anyway. Feeling guilty for letting Eternatus linger with its injury for so long. No words are exchanged between the two, but this is where the bond begins to form.

Spirit starts to go out into the wild are more frequently, letting Eternatus out of the pokeball it continues to remain in. Eternatus begins speaking to Spirit through his head, unable to be heard by anyone else. Spirit begins to recognize that Eternatus is just as much a victim of the Darkest Day as the rest of Galar was.

Spirit and Eternatus’ bond isn’t really cemented until Spirit takes his journey to Alola. By this point, Spirit has become more comfortable around Eternatus, even if the pokemon still makes him incredibly nervous. During his journey when he needs someone to talk to, Spirit often turns to Eternatus for company. Eternatus does not act fond of Spirit, but often entertains the conversation.

Towards the end of his Alola Journey, on Poni Island, Spirit finds a secluded place within the Vast Poni Canyon. Spirit releases Eternatus, giving the legendary the choice to leave if it so pleases.

Things to note about my take on Eternatus: This is an ancient legendary, extremely powerful and once heavily worshipped. Eternatus, a long time ago, could go into the Eternamax form at will. The first Darkest Day was caused by the two Galarian kings disrespecting Eternatus and its sacred grounds, crossing a boundary they should have never crossed. 

Eternatus responded in the way it knew how, by punishing the humans who inhabitated Galar before the Kings along with their dogs defeated Eternatus and injured it too the point where it needed to hibernate and regen itself. The injuries Eternatus gained were severe enough to cause the phenomenon of Wishing Stars, pieces of Eternatus’ own body scattering around Galar. Eternatus went into hibernation bitter towards human already.

What Rose did only made Eternatus hate humans worse. Eternatus awoke long before it was supposed to, confused, in pain as its body was pieced together by the Wishing Stars gathered, and it lost control. Eternatus, now, is weaker than it once was, tired from the stress put on it by the second Darkest Day. Its possible it may never recover to full strength.

Eternatus no longer trusts humans, and still does not trust Spirit. To put it simply, Eternatus is old, bitter, jaded and would honestly rather be back in hibernation. However its injuries were not severe enough to cause the return to this state. Eternatus has been warming up to Spirit though, simply though Spirit’s constant interaction with it and Spirit trying to be genuinely kind to Eternatus.

That being said, with being released, Eternatus still returns to Spirit. This time entering into one of his own pokeballs. It is a comfortable place to rest, and frankly Eternatus is so sick of dealing with humans, it would rather just put up with Spirit wanting to talk and ask questions about ancient Galar. Eternatus also respects the fact Spirit was going to let it live freely, and trust it to live outside the confines of a pokeball.

Spirit formed a bond with Eternatus when Eternatus protected him from a Celesteela that showed up when Spirit was checking out the dragon trial site on Poni Island. 

One wouldn’t really call Spirit and Eternatus friends after this, as both are still unwilling to open up completely given trauma doesn’t just disappear. But they’ve reached an understanding, and Spirit is even willing to use Eternatus in battle if the Legendary agrees to battling. This is not a common occurance, but sometimes Eternatus does get antsy.

Spirit does not nickname Eternatus because he finds it disrespectful.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 6

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wēn Qíng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Phobias

Summary: When Wei Ying wakes, they have a long-overdue conversation.

Note: See end.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

———

Lan WangJi stirs naturally at mao shi, confused by the feeling of someone against him at first. Wei Ying is still curled in his arms, his face pressed against his chest, one hand fisted in his robes. 

When he tries to disentangle himself, it’s more difficult than expected. He finds Wei Ying’s other hand is clinging to a lock of his hair, and both fists tighten at the movement.

Then Wei Ying stirs, jerking back immediately and yelping, “Dog!” as though still trapped in his panic of the night before.

Lan WangJi finds himself pulled part way with him, as Wei Ying neglects to release his hair.

“Eliminated, Wei Ying,” he says softly, watching the bleariness of sleep slowly fade from his eyes.

Thankfully, the remnants of last night’s panic fade with it, and Wei Ying lets go of his hair, wincing in sympathy as he realizes he’s pulled it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“There is no need, between us,” Lan WangJi gently reminds him. “I did not realize you were afraid of dogs.”

Wei Ying flinches, and he realizes the fear is strong enough that he reacts to just the word.

“Wei Ying?”

He keeps his tone soft, a request, but one that can be ignored if he so wishes. Instead Wei Ying sighs, and reaches down to pull up a leg of his trousers, revealing flesh marred by old scars.

“The other one is the same,” he says. “And they go higher. Living on the streets means fighting dogs for food. You learn pretty quick they’re mean.”

“How long?” Lan WangJi asks, trying to keep the horror from his voice. 

Wei Ying shrugs, rolling his trousers back down. 

“I don’t remember. A few years. I didn’t keep much track of time. Too young when my parents died, and no one really knows exactly when that was.”

He can see Wei Ying shiver, and wraps the blanket around him.

“It’s only mao,” he tells him. “You can sleep longer.”

That gets a grimace. “Not likely to sleep. Even if you got rid of that damn thing. I’m surprised it didn’t give me nightmares.”

“Of your childhood?”

Lan WangJi knew he had cried out about dogs in his fevered sleep, but that was during a fever. Though, perhaps, after trauma…

Wei Ying shakes his head. 

“I never told you. In Nightless City, when Wen Chao took me for ‘questioning’...”

He trails off, his mouth a thin line, and draws the blanket around him tighter.

“When I didn’t have information on the missing Yin Iron he put me in qi-suppressing chains and tossed me in the dungeon, in a cell with a very hungry dog. So big its teeth were level with my face.”

Wei Ying smiles, but it’s without mirth.

“Said if I was still alive in the morning, all would be forgiven.”

Given what had happened only hours ago, Lan WangJi doubts Wei Ying, even with his qi, could have fought effectively. Wen Chao wouldn’t have known of his crippling fear, but had not expected him to survive regardless.

He remembers that morning, the blood on Wei Ying’s skin, the rips in his clothing, and his show of flippancy. But he also remembers he had been quieter after that, putting on a mask of carelessness, but also careful to toe the line.

Suddenly Wei Ying’s fear of dogs in the delirium of fever has a new context.

“You survived,” Lan WangJi comments.

Wei Ying laughs shortly. 

“Only thanks to Wen Ning. He knocked it out with needles, and gave me energy boosting medicine and herbs to stop the bleeding. I was able to save some of the herbs. That’s why I had them in the cave.”

For a moment, silence stretches between them, and Lan WangJi reflects on the scene Wei Ying had caused at the banquet, his anger and grief at Qiongpi Path. Wen Ning, who had also saved Jiang Cheng from Wen Chao after the fall of Lotus Cove, who had sheltered them.

Wen Ning, who the Jins and many of the other sects would, and had, happily killed. Just as, he suspects, they would Wei Ying, particularly with the prize of the Stygian Tiger Seal. Jin Guangshan’s obsession with it bothers Lan WangJi, with his zhiji now unprotected by a sect, alienated from the cultivation world.

“I would have died in that dungeon,” Wei Ying comments, “a warning to all of you to behave, if he hadn’t stepped in.”

Lan WangJi tries not to imagine it, but he can, all too easily. Instead of Wei Ying joining the line at indoctrination and complaining of hunger and boasting of his glorious scars, his corpse being dragged to be dumped in front of them.

Wei Ying’s death would have crushed him, he thinks. With his brother missing and father and uncle injured, his sect decimated, the promise to Lan Yi broken… to lose Wei Ying at that point would have destroyed what was left of his sanity.

Lan WangJi, too, owes a tremendous debt to Wen Ning.

“But maybe they wouldn’t have attacked Lotus Pier, then.”

It’s barely a whisper, one so filled with grief and guilt Lan WangJi is reaching for his arm, gripping it through the blanket, before he realizes it, imaginings of Wei Ying’s bloody body in various states of brokenness on the steps of Nightless City haunting his mind. He can feel the tension in his body, as though Wei Ying is on the verge of shattering.

“Wei Ying. They would have attacked regardless.”

“They were just going to make it a supervisory office at first. If I was punished.”

Lan WangJi isn’t sure he wants to know what that entailed, but he asks anyway.

“Punished?”

Wei Ying shrugs. “My hand. It would’ve prevented the massacre. I think Madam Yu was going to do it, too. But then they mentioned Lotus Cove becoming the supervisory office.”

He feels a chill at the idea of Wei Ying mutilated like that, of having never heard him play the dizi, of the pain he would have accepted for the sake of others. This image, so quickly on the heels of the previous… He knows Wei Ying would have given his core anyway, even with such an injury. 

“Wei Ying, they only would have started with your hand,” he says softly. “They would have come back and wanted more.”

He receives no response, and he knows nothing he says will convince Wei Ying that the fall of Lotus Pier, the deaths of the disciples and Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan, perhaps even the war itself… None of it was his fault. Worse, he knows Wei Ying would feel any loss on his part would be acceptable, that Wei Ying always feels thus.

But he can’t help himself, and can only try anyway.

“You lost enough in the war, Wei Ying. Wen RuoHan was to blame for the fall of Lotus Pier, not you. Likely he was only defeated because of your contribution and sacrifices.”

Wei Ying had been avoiding looking at him, but his gaze lifts to meet his finally. His eyes shine as though he is on the verge of tears, and there’s a tightness in his jaw. He had this look months ago, during the hunt when Jiang YanLi defended him publicly against the ugly accusations of Jin ZiXun. He truly isn’t used to being defended, to being valued.

Lan WangJi takes a moment to collect himself, to find words. 

“I wish you had not suffered as much as you did. I wish you did not suffer still. You do not deserve to suffer, Wei Ying.”

Normally he would expect Wei Ying to be flippant, to make light of everything, but for once his zhiji has let himself be open. Lan WangJi can only hope it means he has regained his trust, but it could simply be the early hour and weariness following the panic of the dog spirit. 

“‘A candle illuminates others at the cost of burning itself up.’” He tightens his hold on his arm. “You cannot shoulder the burdens of the world yourself. Let me help you.”

Silence stretches between them for a short while.

“Lan Zhan, do you think you can help me?”

A year ago, the question would have been asked in a hard voice, defensive. Now, Wei Ying’s voice is so small, as though he wonders if anyone can help him. It tears at Lan WangJi, reminds him of how very late he is, reminds him of when he asked Wei Ying to let him help before, and failed to see it through.

He can find no words to answer; instead, he decides to let his guqin speak, let the music speak, and hope his zhiyin truly understands. He lets go of Wei Ying’s arm and manifests his guqin, begins the gentle melody of “WangXian.”

Wei Ying relaxes by increments as he plays, easing to lean back against the wall of the cave. Lan WangJi runs through the song twice, then stills the strings, dismisses the instrument, and waits quietly.

“I remember where I heard that now,” Wei Ying says, breaking the silence left in the wake of the music. “The cave. After we fought the XuanWu. You sang for me.”

“Yes. You were ill from your injuries, from infection.”

Wei Ying hums softly, his eyes closed as though remembering.

“I think I asked what it was called, but I don’t remember the answer. I must have passed out.”

So he truly hadn’t heard; his behavior upon his reappearance had been unconnected to what Lan WangJi had thought was his confession.

“You were delirious with fever,” he tells him, hedging. “Do you know the significance of the Lan forehead ribbon?”

Wei Ying frowns at him, clearly confused by what appears to him to be a change of subject, peering at him through the dusky gloom of the cave.

“Something about restraint. No one’s supposed to touch it.”

Lan WangJi sighs softly.

“‘To regulate oneself,’ more precisely. Only family and cultivation partners are permitted to touch it.”

There’s a minute change in Wei Ying’s expression, but he can’t quite see well enough in the dim lighting to tell what it is. He pulls a talisman from his sleeve and activates it, lighting the candles that line the cave on small juts in the stone.

“Do you remember the Cold Spring cave?” he asks, pressing on, watching his face.

Wei Ying is silent, but his brows knot. It takes less than a minute for him to realize, his lips parting in shock.

“We bowed,” Wei Ying whispers, his voice hoarse. “That was a handfasting? I didn’t know. You never said.”

Lan WangJi doesn’t know how to reply, so says nothing.

“Why didn’t you?” Wei Ying looks confused now. “It’s not… We never… You can have it annulled.”

He tries to find the words, anything that would help him convey what he means, but speaking is not his forte, especially with Wei Ying trying to point out the marriage is technically not valid because it was never consummated, which isn’t the path his mind needs to embark on at the moment.

“I did not wish to,” Lan WangJi finally says. “I still do not.”

Wei Ying stares at him, looking frozen, as though the words have paralyzed him. He still looks confused, uncertain. Lan WangJi returns to the music.

“The title of the song is ‘WangXian.’”

Wei Ying’s reaction is a small intake of air, almost a gasp. Emotions flit across his face too fast to decipher, before he hides it in the blanket.

“Lan Zhan.”

His voice is muffled and rough.

“I can’t cultivate to immortality anymore, Lan Zhan. The resentful energy… you were right, when you said it harms the body and mind. I don’t know if I’ll even… if I’ll even have a mediocre lifespan. I’ll leave you.”

Nowhere in what he has said, Lan WangJi realizes, is a rejection. Rather, it’s an attempt to convince him that Wei Ying isn’t good enough, isn’t worthy. To remind him that Wei Ying accepted a shorter lifespan and pain to help his brother. As though his selflessness would ever make him unworthy. 

Lan WangJi reaches out, grasps Wei Ying’s arm under the blanket again. It is still painful to be reminded of the fleeting time they’ll have, but at the same time it makes what he has to say more important, makes the idea of wasting any more devastating.

“Then I will find you again in your next life, and every life thereafter if necessary,” he promises.

He recognizes the sound Wei Ying makes in response as a choked sob, and pulls him close, into his arms.

“You deserve better,” Wei Ying mumbles against him, still hiding his face. “I’m not—”

“Wei Ying,” he interrupts, not willing to hear his zhiji put himself down. “I want only you.”

Wei Ying’s breath hitches, and he finally looks up, his face wet, his lips trembling. Lan WangJi abandons decorum, reaching to card one hand in the hair below his ear, curling his fingers at the nape of his neck, and leaning in to kiss him.

This first kiss is clumsy, as he isn’t quite sure what one is supposed to do with one’s lips, and it doesn’t seem Wei Ying is entirely clear on it either—but Wei Ying is reciprocating. He’s reciprocating, and Lan WangJi’s heart sings with the understanding that this is truly not rejection.

When he pulls back, Wei Ying looks startled, flushed, maybe even shy. But he doesn’t seem to be crying anymore, which Lan WangJi counts as a win.

He finds himself relieved when Wei Ying softly teases him, that he’s moved away from the brooding and seriousness that has plagued him since they woke. He’s been pulled out of his melancholy depression, and there’s a kind of power there—Lan WangJi did that.

“You stole my first kiss,” he murmurs, his voice almost coy. “You’ll have to take responsibility.”

“Mm,” he agrees. “I did when we were fifteen.”

Wei Ying’s startled laugh is like music to him, and he pulls him gently down onto the pallet to kiss him more.

All else can wait.

-----------------

AND THEY WERE HUSBANDS. I’ve been thinking about this chapter for a couple weeks now. Glad it’s finally written.

“A candle illuminates others at the cost of burning itself up” is a Chinese proverb I felt fit in this situation.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Mike and Eleven are an unhealthy couple, and other ST relationship notes

Relationships have been shown to be a big part of Stranger Things from the beginning. In Season 1, we’re treated to The Party’s unique dynamic, Nancy’s rocky romance with Steve, Joyce’s interactions with her ex-husband, and Johnathan and Will’s brotherly bonding. We are also introduced to Eleven, who more or less instantly bonds with Mike. These relationships allow us to get to know the characters in a more intimate way, and help drive the narrative. In Season 2, we get deeper into these relationships and also see new ones bloom. We witness the special bond that Mike and Will share, the abusive dynamic of the Hargrove household, Dustin and Lucas spar over Max while she adapts to being adopted by a group of nerds, Steve and Nancy’s relationship fails and Johnathan and Nancy’s begins, and even Karen get frustrated over her boring rut of a marriage. We also see Mike, at least early on in the season, desperately reach out to Eleven, and it’s indicated he’s been doing this for just shy of a year (353 days I believe).  In Season 3, a heavy-handed theme is “we don’t understand each other.” This is displayed prominently by multiple relationships. It’s most obvious with Johnathan and Nancy, where I believe it was directly stated. Nancy feels he doesn’t believe in her and her journalistic hunches, while he feels she isn’t considering how badly he needs that internship since he lacks her familial resources. Joyce and Hopper’s relationship goes on a roller coaster stemming from Hopper seeing Joyce as playing around with him as he tries his best to open his heart again, but Joyce still has grief over Bob and understandable paranoia about the lab holding her back. Max and Lucas seem ok, showing some playful banter, but we’re also told they’ve broken up five times. Seeing as how they’ve only been together for about 7-8 months or so. That’s a sign of a lack of understanding, but sadly we don’t get much more out of Lucas this season. Karen is tempted by Billy to bring some excitement into her life, though Ted is shown to be rather content with his boring family life. We’re also treated to the heartwarming friendship of Steve and Robin, which is teased as a romance through yet another misunderstanding. This brings me to the crux of this post (finally), and that is Mike, and his horrible (or horribly written) relationships in Season 3. I can totally buy his attachment to Eleven. She helps him find Will in Season 1, and is traumatized by her disappearance (and apparent death) during the final battle with the Demogorgon. It’s completely understandable that he’d be affected by that, possibly feeling guilty and responsible, and desperate for her safe return. It’s totally realistic for a 12-year-old to develop a crush on a girl in a short amount of time such as the week he knew her. It’s unbelievably realistic for him to be immensely happy and relieved when she comes back in Season 2, safe and sound. It’s totally in-character for him to be a nervous wreck when she goes to close the gate. At no point, however, does this have the appearance of a romantic relationship, at least not a true and healthy one.

In Season 3, however, he is completely obsessed with her. It’s revealed by Lucas that he’s been neglecting his friends. He’s been seeing her every day, at least since summer started, and there are implications that Eleven primarily only sees Mike (Max is shocked to see her, we see no interactions between El and the others, she’s still not allowed to be out in public, etc.). This girl has had no opportunity for social or emotional growth in the roughly year and a half since she’s been out of the lab. Her question to Max (”How do I know if I like something?” or something along those lines) should be jarring. She’s never considered anything for herself. Pre-dumping, she and Mike are shown basically just making out. There’s no conversation, no getting to know each other, no simply enjoying each other’s company. The only time we see them with the others, Mike and El very quickly leave, which the others know means they want to make out. El is supposed to be friends with them too, but she seems equally obsessed with this relationship. It’s been months since the Snow Ball, they should be out of the honeymoon phase even if Mike’s opportunities to see her during the school year were limited.  So, unpopular opinion, Mike and El share an unhealthy relationship. He’s more annoyed than upset when she dumps him, while El has a blast hanging out with Max. It’s nice to see her grow with this, but she’s quite honestly depicted as being better off without Mike as a boyfriend. I’m not saying they couldn’t grow into a better couple, but we see nothing like that in this season. They make up in the hospital, and Mike awkwardly tries to talk about feelings in the grocery store, but they just aren’t hearing each other. They don’t understand each other. They still don’t at the end, to be honest. While many people seem to think they rekindle their relationship before the Byers’ move, Mike seems legit confused. He stands there, stock still, as El kisses him. He doesn’t kiss back, he doesn’t close his eyes, he doesn’t put his arms around her, he doesn’t return her “I love you”, and, as she walks off, he doesn’t get a goofy grin, a sad smile, or a hopeful look on his face. He stands there, confused, as if that kiss was unexpected and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. That wasn’t a boy who had been going out with this girl for the past three months post-Starcourt. If they were meant to be seen as a happy couple, tragically being torn apart, then the writers did a terrible job of it. It’s almost too obvious that we’re supposed to compare this to Mike’s strained relationship with Will, though at the same time it’s like we’re meant to forget all of that. There’s curiously no acknowledgement to any of the bonding they shared in Season 2, even through flashbacks. Will is portrayed as being upset at the slightest sign of Mike and El’s romance. He doesn’t show frustration with Max or Lucas, and he’s amused at the prospect of helping Dustin contact his camp girlfriend. If this wasn’t intentional, then it’s either poor acting or poor writing. Both Mike and Will become single-minded, Mike towards El, and Will towards D&D. There’s many possible explanations (besides the aforementioned bad writing) that could explain Will’s change of character, but that’s a post for another time, if people are interested. Will reaches his breaking point in a conversation that reads more like a breakup than anything else. Again, though, it’s clear they don’t understand each other. This is where the “Is Will gay?” speculation hits a crescendo, as he angrily states it’s not his fault Will doesn’t like girls. Will is...devastated, shocked, terrified? It’s hard to nail down. Mike is immediately remorseful, though his apology is severely lacking. Will’s parting words of “I guess I did. I really did.” again seem more like a breakup. I’d like to go on more, but besides Mike tracking Will down in the rain (not unsignificant), we see little between them until the goodbyes. Their scene is shorter than Mike and El’s, but significant in that it’s the only goodbye Will is shown having (apart from all the hugging). They speak in code again, with Mike worried Will may replace him, and Will reassuring Mike that could never happen. It’s worth mentioning that the smile Mike shows in this scene is the most genuine we see all season from him.  I’m not sure what to think about it all. Mike and Will’s relationship is somehow portrayed as stronger and deeper that Mike and El’s, but simultaneously less significant. It makes more sense for Mike to be closer to Will than El, and it’s curious that he and El are never shown trying to get to know each other. My ultimate conclusion, drawing on personal experience and someone with degrees in psychology and counseling, is that Mike and El are bad for each other, at least based on how they’ve been depicted thus far. They’re shown to be better outside of their relationship.  Ultimately, Mike lost both of these relationships at the end. While we know the three of them will meet again, they simply have the hope of visits and calls. Mike is left visibly upset as the Byers family drives off, but it’s ambiguous as to whether Will or El leaving upsets him more. I don’t think he knows the answer to that either. As he enters his mother’s embrace, he appears in a state of shock. This scene parallels him being comforted in season 1 when Will’s fake body was pulled from the water, even going so far as to include the same song. It’s possible he’s coming to a realization involving Will, which could explain the shock. I think the simplest explanation, though, is that we’re supposed to be as confused as Mike as to what all this means. Mike starting to consider that Will is more than just his best friend would be a breath of fresh air for a story like this, but I doubt it.  If you made it this far, let me know if you’d like more posts from me. I have thoughts on the effects of trauma on the characters, theories for season 4, and general opinions about seasons 1-3.

[placesthatchangedpeople]

Suvivor testimony - Trinity Teen Solutions

I attended Trinity as a teen and have since tried to forget the trauma that happened to me while I was there but have found myself 5 years later, still tortured by the memories. I was your typical rebellious teen- experimenting with alcohol and drugs, defiant, hanging out with older boys, and depressed. However, the punishment I received at trinity for being this way is something I would never wish on my worst enemy. All Trinity did was confuse and lie to my family, and further traumatize me. I was sitting in a car one day after I got out drinking and smoking weed with my old friends 100 times MORE self destructive, alone, and sad than I was the day I went to Trinity. The affects of Trinity led me to be a serious hard drug abuser, something I was never destined to be coming from my loving and supporting family that was only trying to help me. I had no other way to numb the memories and pain. Every other girl I attended with had similar fates- either became serious junkies, or became promiscuous and had children out of wedlock because they were only searching for love and to numb the memories as well. I am being totally honest when I say this- I WOULD HAVE RATHER BEEN IN JAIL.

Why? Many reasons. One, in jail you actually know how long you are going to be there. Trinity is on a "need to know basis." So unless it is information you need to know in a life or death situation, it is withheld from you. The MONTHS never knowing when you will be able to see your family again or be treated like a human being are torture. Two, you can talk to other people in jail and rely on each other for support. At Trinity, the girls are not in any case allowed to be friends or talk to each other without permission. No one is allowed to know why the other one is there. Theyre encouraged to tattle on each other and punished if they do not. This creates a lonely and depressing environment versus having other girls there for support and to share similar struggles with. Three, if you are doing well you will get out sooner and vice versa. At Trinity, no matter what you do, you will be accused of faking it and lying and problems will be made up by staff for you, anything in order to tell your parents you need to be kept there longer. It is biased and decided by unqualified "life coaches" that have simply received an undergrad degree in something like psychology and has no training. I was once told by one of these staff members that I was getting too close with another girl and every time I looked or spoke to this other girl I was tacking on a few months to my stay at Trinity. My final reason is you are given adequate hygiene, food, and clothing in jail. At Trinity, every girl there even though we were all different sizes and body builds were FORCED to eat the exact same portion every single meal and if they didn't eat something on their plate? Punished. This was too much for some girls and never enough for others. Showers were maybe once a week in cold water for 5 minutes. And the underwear, bras, and clothing were reused by girls for over 20 years- it was ratty and disgusting. One girl came back as a staff member 10 years after she had been there and said she recognized her sweat pants and hoodies she wore at age 15. This is pretty amusing to me since TRINITY COSTS NEARLY $300 A DAY. Yet they spent none of this money on clothing or anything else really. Food was ordered cheaply in bulk and the girls made every thing themselves- low cost pasta and rice meals- and if anything started getting used to much and became "too expensive" it was immediately nixed. I was once reprimanded for using the too expensive avocados.

Angie Woodward, the owner. How that name makes me cringe. She is the lovely lady responsible for harming so many teen girls and scamming hundreds of people into dumping her loads of cash for her multiple homes, vacations, and boats, cars, horses, ATVs, etc. that she parades around the girls and rubs in their faces while they are slaving away on her ranch. Angie's father owns the trouble teen boys ranch down the road and is where she learned all of these shaming and fear tactics for the clients and families. The only difference between the two ranches is that the boys one has been closed for abuse, neglect, and fraud, while Angie's is surprisingly still open! She claims to have years of experience and be our on staff nurse but I think I only saw her twice in the whole year and a half I was there- like I said she was busy vacationing. She hires 24 years olds fresh out of undergrad to carry out the dirty work instead who are too fresh in the world and naive to know they are doing something wrong- although a few figured it out and left and have written reviews here themselves that are negative but have been removed. Ill spare you the details of the abuse and neglect that goes on at Trinity- all you need to know is it is a scam with false advertising, AND YOU SHOULD NEVER SEND YOUR DAUGHTER HERE.

[imagine-loki]

Giftless

TITLE: Giftless CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 27/50

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die.  Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

When you started to wake, the first thing you recognized was Loki’s voice. He must’ve sensed that you were beginning to stir, as that was when he started to speak.  “Stay calm, darling. You’re safe,” he soothed, his voice gentle and calming.  

You recognized his voice and forced your eyes open to look at him. Even that was too much effort. You were exhausted.  What came after exhausted?  That’s where you were.  Drained, body and soul.  

You finally looked around and recognized that you were in the infirmary.

Why were you in the infirmary? Why were you the one in the bed? Why was your head on fire? You felt like someone had dumped acid through your brain. And it was so loud, like everyone was chattering. Except that there was no one around. You felt so raw and bruised. “Loki?” you asked, hoarsely, your voice weak, like you’d been screaming all night from nightmares. Why was every moment so hard? You moved to sit up and he had to come help you and prop you up against the pillows. “What happened? Why are we here?” you managed to get the words out. You knew it was bad, though, for you to feel as awful as you did.  

How the hell had you ended up in the infirmary?

You almost never ended up here.

Loki hesitated, but finally answered. “You were drugged at the party last night.” His tone was soft, gentle, a healer’s gentle croon.  “Healer Julia told me that your memories might be affected this morning. They will return soon. It is a side-effect of the drug,” he waited for you to nod, to acknowledge and verify for him that you had understood his words. You nodded for him, though it made your head hurt even worse.  Gods, how could your head hurt even worse? “How are you feeling?” he was being overly cautious. 

Something was wrong.

Very wrong

You couldn’t lie to him, especially when you were obviously in such back shape. “Like someone poured acid through my brain,” you admitted softly.  

He gave you a tiny, wan smile. “That is a fairly apt description,”

“Loki, what happened?” you asked, truly concerned now. He was never like this. Even during the worst things that happened to him, he made jokes and made light of the situation. But whatever had happened to you had him shaken. You felt the stress and worry scraping painfully against the raw nerves in your brain. Items around the bed started floating on their own.

“Darling, I know that it is difficult, but you must remain calm. I will tell you what happened, but know that it was terrible. Before I begin, I have to warn you…” he hesitated. You took his hand for comfort. He gave you a real smile then.

“Tell me,” you bid him. All you wanted was to crawl off of this damn hospital bed and into his arms. You couldn’t do that. You were here for a reason and needed to stay in the bed. 

You then decided you didn’t care. You weren’t hooked up to any machines or anything. If the infirmary staff didn’t like it, they could just get over it. You managed to crawl out of the bed, despite Loki’s protests. When he figured out what you wanted, he helped pull you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around you to hold you there safely. You laid your head on his shoulder and felt you could finally relax. “Tell me, Loki,” you bid him again now that you were safe in his arms.

“What happened last night…blasted open your powers. That is why you are feeling like your mind was scrubbed with acid. Any small emotion is enough to set them off today. It will take awhile for the part of your mind that handles control of your powers to heal. I cannot help either,” he added before you could ask him to fix it.  “Today your have to be extra careful. Any use of your powers will be quite painful,” he explained gently, keeping his voice that careful healer’s croon.  

You weren’t surprised to find out that you had powers. It had been an expectation of all of the supers that eventually you would become one of them. It also… felt right, felt like part of who you were.  

It also wasn’t surprising that your powers had appeared now. Whatever happened last night must have been traumatic for you to be in the shape you were in. Trauma could trigger the manifestation of powers. It was such a well known fact that some kids who were desperate to be supers would jump off of buildings to try to force their powers to activate. It worked just often enough that kids kept trying it.

The rest of the results were tragic if one of the fliers weren’t circulating that day.

“I understand,” you told him finally. “I’ll try to stay calm. Will you tell me now?” you asked.  You needed to know what had happened.  

“You went to Claire’s birthday party last night. A couple hours into the party, you sent me a text that only said ‘help’. Tony and I came as fast as we could, but it was too late. That moronic football boy who has been troubling you had drugged your drink. He took you upstairs and raped you,” Loki didn’t mince his words or try to placate you with euphemisms.  You were surprised for an instant, until you realized that it was Loki’s way.  He would tell you exactly what had happened, no more, no less, which you were grateful for.

“Let’s see if your freaky alien boyfriend wants you after this. And I’ll get Stark’s fortune when I put a baby in your belly,” you heard the phantom words of memory. A piece of your missing memories from last night. 

You clutched tighter onto Loki when you heard them, fighting back a sob. Loki rubbed your back and stroked your hair until you calmed again.

“No matter what that asshole said to you, I am not going to abandon you because someone hurt you,” Loki promised. 

You looked up at him confused. “How did you know what he said?” you asked, fighting back you horror. Loki was telepathic, but he stayed out unless invited. You knew he wouldn’t eavesdrop now, not when you had already been violated.

“You were projecting, love. It appears telepathy is one of your powers.” Loki explained gently.  You relaxed in his arms, accepting that explanation. You felt him stiffen, before he forced the next words out. “Now that you know what happened, do you wish to move back to the bed? I will not be offended. I only wish for you to feel safe.” Now he was hedging around his question, but you understood what he was really asking.  He wanted to know if his touch upset you.  

If you felt unsafe with him because he was male. 

You probably should’ve felt uncomfortable with him.

But you trusted him, loved him, and while you felt dirty and unclean, you took comfort in the love he offered freely.

You shook your head. “I’ve trusted you from the day we met. You haven’t hurt me in all the time I’ve known you. You’re not going to now,” you told him softly. It might be awhile before you felt clean again, before you felt like you weren’t violated and broken. You weren’t sure you ever wanted sex again, but you didn’t have to worry about any of that right that moment.

You sat like that for a long while. You saw some of the nurses come by to check on you, but they seemed pleased with this development and let you be.

Until the memories came flooding back. With a quick hand movement on his part, Loki threw a dark green shield around you. You screamed and sobbed when you had to live through that horror again. It wasn’t just remembering. 

You had to relive every single moment of it.

The second the rememories had vanished, you scrambled off of Loki’s lap with more speed than you thought you could muster that day, and grabbed a nearby bowl, into which you were violently sick. You didn’t realize you were kneeling on the cold floor of the infirmary until you realized Loki was holding your hair back while you vomited. 

You looked up at him when the feeling of nausea passed. He offered you a hand to help you up from the floor. You stared at it for a moment before you took it and let him pull you to your feet. He settled you back in the bed. 

You realized he was looking green too and you wondered why. Had puking really grossed him out that much?  

Loki got you a glass of water and finally lowered the shields around the small room you were in. “Thank you,” you murmured.  You knew he’d helped you a lot, you just didn’t understand how much.

“I am so sorry you had to live through that, darling. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to save you,” he told you, looking haunted and horrified.

“You…saw?” you asked, hoping against hope that you hadn’t made him relive it with you. 

He nodded.  For all that he was the god of lies, he wouldn’t lie to you. “Your power rose too fast and you got under my personal shields, which is a very impressive feat, my dear. I only just got the shield up to protect the rest of the compound,” he explained gently.  He really didn’t want to upset you and trigger more powers.  

“I’m sorry,” you told him, feeling more drained and raw than you had when you woke.

One of the nurses came in then. “I felt a… disturbance. Is everything ok in here, Kat?” she asked you, assuming that Loki had done something to upset you.  It was a safe assumption given the circumstances. 

“My memories from last night came back,” you told her. She nodded and gentled her look. “When can I go home?” you asked her, fighting to control your emotions and keep the emotion out of your voice. You hated hospitals.

“Soon, dear. We just need to run a couple more tests. Your body is healed, but Fury wants Tela to come up and take a look at your mind and power levels,” the nurse explained. You remembered that Tela always read the power level and abilities of new recruits. “Fury himself will be up to talk to you too,” you nodded again. She left and you let yourself lay back against the pillows. 

You looked over at Loki and gave him a pleading look.  “Will you read to me?” you asked him softly. 

He gave you a real smile then.  It was a taste of normalcy.  “Of course, darling. Any requests?” 

You thought about it for a moment. There was one story you had been dying for him to read aloud. He had the perfect accent for it. “Harry Potter?” you asked hesitantly. He raised an eyebrow, but summoned the book.

“Any book in the world, and you choose this one? It must be quite special indeed,” he replied before he opened the book.

“Harry is an old friend,” you told him, trying to explain in a way that didn’t make you sound like a crazy person. That tended to happen really quickly when you started talking about Harry Potter. “Surely there’s a hero whose tales you’ve read so many times that you can recite them in your sleep, whose tales you keep reading again and again because you miss hearing about them?” 

He smiled then, understanding. “The tales of Hiccup the Viking,” he replied with a fond smile. “Very well,” he turned a couple pages and began: “Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense” His tone and accent was perfect and you listened, enthralled by the tale, no matter how familiar it was. He also had the trick of doing the voices, and could mimic the actor’s almost identically, which made his telling even better.

“Kat?” Tony asked from the doorway. You looked up at him, surprised. You hadn’t heard him since you had been too busy listening to Loki’s telling of one of your favorite books. You waved Tony in. He came over and hugged you tightly. “I’m so sorry, Kat. We should never have left you there alone,” he told you, grief and blame in his voice.  

Uncle Tony always blamed himself when someone he cared for was hurt.

“I’ll be ok, Uncle Tony,” you tried to reassure him. “After Tela and Fury come see me, I can even go home,” you added, acting stronger and more together than you were feeling.

“The nurses said your powers were blasted open,” he said, prying you for information.

“Which makes me feel like death, but it’s nothing rest won’t heal,” you were hoping on that point anyway.  You really didn’t want to feel like death for the rest of your life. 

Tela came up and kicked the boys out so she could do the investigation. She looked in your mind, which was horrible and nearly made both of you puke, and took her reading of your powers. You knew she was going to report to Fury the second she scurried away. Tony and Loki came back in when she left. Loki placed a cold hand on your forehead for a minute, telling you how green you looked. It was soothing, though, so you gave him a smile.

It was only a few minutes later when Fury arrived. “Tony, good, you’re here. You need to hear this too. Sit,” Fury ordered. “How are you doing, Kat?”

“Better once I can go home,” you replied predictably. You really hated hospitals and they all knew it. Tony sat next to you on your bed.

Fury nodded. He was always down to business, and didn’t disappoint you on that point now. “I have a confession to make. I hope you will forgive me, but I know that is too much to ask. Don’t blame Tony, the decisions weren’t his.” 

You stared at him, confused. What had Fury ever done? He had let you stay here even though you weren’t a super and had taken you in and given you a family besides just Tony. 

Fury continued. “This is not the first time your powers manifested,” he finally admitted, cutting to the chase. “At the time, we thought it was best to block them. You were in no shape to learn control at the time. You were a thirteen year old who had just lost her parents. We were going to unblock them when you turned eighteen, after you graduated and could focus full-time on control. There’s no choice now. Tela told me that all the blocks we put in place four years ago have been ripped away in such a way that she can’t put them back if she wanted to, which she doesn’t, since she didn’t agree with the idea in the first place. Apparently, though, when the blocks were blasted away, it ripped away part of what allows a super to control their gifts. Long story short, it’s going to be hard, if not impossible for you to ever learn proper control, at least not until you fully heal. I’m sorry, Kat. We should have told you,”

You glared at him, unable to control the anger and betrayal you felt. 

“Kat, no!” Loki yelled, sensing your emotion flare.  As objects in the room started to float around you.

You tried to reign in the emotions as pain wracked its way through your brain. You clutched your head, sobbing from the pain as all of the objects that had started floating crashed back down. Tony was busy putting out a pillow that had caught fire. Loki wrapped his arms around you gently, trying to calm you, to get your powers back under control.

“You should have told me” you told Fury between sobs. 

“I should have,” he agreed. “But you didn’t see the inferno you created the night your parents died. There was a tornado of fire when we arrived. It took every firestarter, water, and ice super we had to get it under control until you passed out. I’m sorry for the decision that was made, but with that much power, we didn’t see the choice at the time. I’m sorry you’re hurting now and we will do everything in our power to help you learn to control your powers now.” 

You knew now that was going to be a lot harder than it sounded. At thirteen, you had enough power to make a fire tornado while half-conscious at best. Powers only grew with age and time. You should have been spending the last four years learning to control your powers. Instead, they were four years stronger and your control was not. “Get better, Kat. We get to work once you’re well,” Fury told you. That was as much as the stern man was going to give you on the subject. He left without another word.

“Can we go home now?” you asked Loki desperately. “It’s so loud in here,” you felt like you were whining, but you really hated hospitals. Tony looked at you confused.

“Kat, it’s a hospital. It’s quiet almost to a fault.” 

You shook your head. “Everyone’s chattering. It hurts,” Why couldn’t they hear it?

“That would be the telepathy, dear,” Loki told you gently. He held out his hand for you. “Here, let me shield you until we get you home,” you took his hand and felt the shield enclose around your mind. “I will teach you how to do that for yourself later,” he promised you when you gave him a look of such intense relief.

Tony was still confused when you looked over at him. “What?” you asked.

“You were… attacked…” stupid uncle using euphemisms “last night. I didn’t think you would be willing to accept the touch of any man for a long time, if ever, but you’re still treating him like your boyfriend,”

“He is my boyfriend,” you reminded him sourly.  Just because Tony barely tolerated Loki didn’t make Loki any less your boyfriend.

“He’s touching you and you’re not freaking out,” Tony replied, pushing the subject. 

“He’s not going to hurt me. He’s asked permission. He’s careful and a gentleman. He’s not going to pressure or push. He’s safe because he’s my boyfriend and I trust and love him. You’re safe because you’re my uncle,” you explained. It was a hard explanation, you weren’t sure you had it right, but Tony seemed to accept it. He still glared at Loki.

“If you do anything to hurt her…”

“You’ll…kill you ?” Loki asked with a grin. “Evidently, there will be a line,”

“What happened to the…asshole?” you asked Tony, sneaking a grin to Loki who had used such a bad word earlier.

“He’s in the hospital. A vegetable. They’re not sure if he’s ever going to recover. If he does, he’s going straight to jail. Officer Patricia will make sure of it. She’s the one who’s Julia’s sister,” he added at your confused look.

One of the nurses came in. “Kat, dear, Fury came to talk to us. You’re cleared to go back to your rooms whenever you’re ready,” she told you.  You nodded and would have scrambled off of the bed if Loki and Tony hadn’t both glared at you. Neither touched you, though, for which you was grateful. You could trust them, but restraining you on a bed would’ve been too much.

“Kat, I’m supposed to go on patrol. I can get Fury to let me off if you need me…” he hesitated. He hated shirking duty. 

You shook your head. “I’ll be fine,” you reassured him. 

He glared at Loki. “I will kill you if you do anything,” he hissed in no uncertain terms.

“Uncle Tony…” you really wish he’d stop threatening your boyfriend.

“Fine, just be careful, Kat. Stab him with one of your daggers first, ask questions later,” he reminded you.  You knew it was logical for him to be more cautious after what happened, but Loki wasn’t going to hurt you.

“Go do work,” you grumbled at him. He nodded and finally left, still looking worried. 

Once he was gone, Loki stood. He offered you his hand. “Shall we, my darling?” he asked. “Or I can carry you if you are not up to walking,” he offered. You took his hand and let him pull you to your feet.

“I’ll try walking first,” you told him. He nodded and didn’t look hurt or offended, for which you were grateful. You laid your hand on his arm, using him for support while you walked up to your room. We did at least take the elevator, which helped. He hesitated outside of your room, until you dragged him inside with you. “Can you find Beauty and the Beast?” you asked, pointing to your DVD rack. “I’m going to find some real clothes,” hospital clothes sucked. At least the gowns weren’t backless. You still wanted pants, though.

“Would you like me to-?” you shook your head at his offer to dress you with magic. You wanted to dress yourself this time. He nodded and went to your DVD rack to begin pulling movies. Not just the one you had asked for, but others you could watch today. 

You went into your bedroom, closing the door firmly behind you. You changed into pajamas with long pants and a full shirt, not a tank top like you had been wearing. Maybe you weren’t a secure as you were pretending. You knew you were safe, but it still felt better to have full pants, to be more covered. 

Loki smiled when he saw you come back. You felt his shield disappear from your mind and you panicked for a moment that the voices were going to return. Though you relaxed when you realized it was quiet in your suite, so you nodded that you were ok. Loki was already waiting for you on the couch. You sat down next to him and curled up against him, laying your head on his chest. “I nearly forgot,” he held up your bracelet with a shimmer of magic. “I kept it safe for you while you were in the infirmary.” you smiled.

“Thank you for saving it,” you told him and held up your wrist so he could put it back on. “And for saving me,” you added softly. 

“You saved yourself, my wonderful, strong, courageous darling,” he reminded you and started the movie before he pulled a blanket up over you. You relaxed with him. He was safe. You were safe with him, and you would work through the rest together. You rested that day in his arms. There were no kisses, but that seemed perfectly ok with both of you.

You were beyond grateful that he was understanding.

[fifty-first-worstidea]

Just Had To Explain Somebody In My Fic Why Violet Acted Different In The Save Louis Route

This is what they said to me:

“The game devs really confused me with Violet.

If you let them take Louis she's screaming bloody murder at Minnie, a lot louder and angrily than Louis.

But if Violet is taken she feels betrayed and refuses to listen to Clementine AND will attack of you piss her off. Like, what?

That makes no goddamn sense that she would have such a drastic shift in personality. The only thing I can really think of is because Violet was brainwashed and threatened to obey or else they'd hurt her friends so she projects that onto Clementine?

Idfk.“

Hold up!

Defending Violet is my specialty

(this was taken directly from my reply)

I will try my best to explain.

So, first and foremost, Violet has abandonment issues. It was hinted at in 402 when you hung out with her. "I watched people leave before. Family, friends, they never come back... But you did, and now, I can't imagine what it would be like if you weren't here."

And I can understand why she would want to have Clementine stay. Her grandmother died right in front of her, her parents dumped her at this boarding school for the troubled youth (even though it was pretty obvious she should've gotten therapy, she was traumatized, not troubled), so many of the adults at the school had left for personal reasons, and 34-ish kids have died as of date. Stacking that kind of past on top of she thought her girlfriend and one of her best friends both died when they were actually at the Delta? Woah, she's been through as much of a hell as anybody else.

Now, in the Saving Louis route, the raiders could've said and done so many things to break down her already shattering mental stability. That's the idea the fic is based around, but yeah, she was starting to get brainwashed. Her aggressive behavior is characterized by what is more likely the thought "You left again, why should I trust you?"

A lot of people gave Violet hate for acting out in her own way. They gave her hate because she hoped to keep everyone safe through her own efforts. Because Clementine was trying to escape, she attacked because she saw it as punishment for everyone, not just her as well. She probably mentions it during the QTE but it breaks my heart too much to watch it again.

Just because Violet is showing the horrible parts of mental illness doesn't give anybody the reason to hate her. I've heard rumors that some people even want to kill her themselves. Ow, that's horrible... Tell me why you'd kill a victim of brainwashing and trauma again?

So much is to be said to explain her attack on Clementine, but what I get from it is now that you've actively chose to save Louis instead, she sees you as one of the people who would rather abandon her. There are too many people on that list already.

(It's also kinda canon that she has Borderline Personality Disorder, so...)

So hopefully 404 gives her a chance to calm down a bit and contemplate to herself why she did it. Maybe she wasn't thinking when she rushed at Clementine. I'm not asking her to forgive Clem, because that'd be reversing her character arc all the way, but I'm hoping to never have to fight her again, not because it was difficult to fight her, but because she has more going on in her mind than it seems, and fighting might scramble her beliefs to a point where the brainwashing she went through might be a bit more permanent than we thought at first.

Also, saving her is to her what being rescued from death probably is to you. She's very un-betrayed if you choose to save her, probably feels like she owes you her life. Her mental health indeed stops deteriorating, and she even gives you a little button like WHAT (I'm pretty sure you have to hang out with her for it to happen tho)

Oh yeah, quick note, she's probably very touch and affection starved, give her hugs whenever you can.

She says she hates arts and crafts, then gives you something that requires arts and crafts to make, which kinda shows how much she's willing to struggle just to make you happy. Her love language is through gifts and acts like dancing, and that makes me so happy. I literally adore her way of showing affection it's so cute.

So hopefully that answers your question! This fic is just a different take on her trauma and experiences based on what might've happened to her on the boat, so it's not super duper canon or acceptable or anything. Just a horrible idea that I decided to write out so I can share my salt mountain with everyone.

(But if she does forgive us, I'll be scared, because that means the lasting consequence she gets might relate to the foreshadowing back in 401 and 402.)

[delicatelyhaunted]

A thing about my asexuality

All the trigger warnings.

TW: rape, sex, emotional abuse, gaslighting, victim blaming, drugs, abortion

This is a very personal account and rather detailed. The most triggering, detailed section has large headers above and below for when it starts and when it ends. Reader beware. (That part is one paragraph)

Word count below cut: 2,734

Okay, so this is going to be more like a lot about me and my asexuality.

Asexuality comes in many forms. I am sex-repulsed and genitalia-repulsed. 

Yes, I have a kid. We’re going to get to that.

Let me tell you the tale of when my sexual life began.

I was 14. I lived in a not so little town in Arkansas. My sister was off to college, and I had no idea that my mother was sabotaging my sisterly relationship. Granted, she’s 5 years older than me and like many teenagers, didn’t want to hang out with her bratty little sister. (Our grandmother spoiled the shit out of me while being very hateful and abusive to my older sister and our older brother. Seriously, it was fucked up, and I fully admit I was a rotten child.)

I was in 9th grade. In most of Arkansas, this is still this thing called “junior high”. You’re still earning credits for high school, and you’re still a freshman, but it’s like a mediation to get us prepped for the high school environment. The schools, jr high and high school were right next door to each other. We lived close enough to the schools that the buses, to be more time and fuel efficient, didn’t make stops in my neighborhood. This meant I walked to school. 8 minutes. It was an 8 minute walk. No big deal. I did this since the middle of 8th grade, when we moved there. Traffic from the schools was annoying as all get out, but I still got home right at 8 minutes if I didn’t stop at the park on the way home.

It was a miserably hot, September day, and I wore my usual apparel. A floaty knee-length skirt and some tee shirt. Probably had a smart-ass saying on it. Likely one of my sister’s hand me downs (that at that point, I really liked.) I was walking home from school, like normal, passing a yard that had some bushes near the sidewalk. They were tall grasses. I had my backpack up on both shoulders, as usual.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Until something yanked on my backpack. Hard. Like someone grabbed the handle at the top. I spun around, expecting one of my friends to be messing with me, telling me I forgot a binder or something. 

Instead, I see a man’s chest. I was in the process of quickly looking up to his face when he grabbed both of my shoulder straps, from the front, and half-dragged, half-carried me into a garden shed.

I was raped.

Super triggering details in italics below

I was pinned down on my back, one arm ending up painfully twisted, and a dirty, gas stained rag was stuffed in my mouth. He pushed up my skirt and angrily tugged down my underwear. Somehow this disgusting man new my whole name and grunted it with each movement as he raped me. I was crying so hard from the confused of being forced into the shed and the pain of what he was doing, that I could barely make out anything more than a dark shirt and lightish brown hair, and that he was white.

Super triggering part is done

When he was done with me, he just....left the shed and headed toward some houses further down this side street. I hastily rearranged my clothes after ripping this rag out of my mouth that tasted like a lawnmower and I fled, back toward the tall grasses where I could see the sidewalk peeking through. 

I managed to dart across the street, and into the park bathroom. I wiped my face, splashed cold water, and tried to flatten my hair. My thoughts raced. “What am I gonna do? Why did this happen to me? What did I do?”

I halfway ran home. 

My mother didn’t even seem to notice anything was wrong.

 I couldn’t tell her. I was “too ugly” to be raped. I would have been “saying that for attention.” “No one would ever believe” me. This is the garbage that rape culture feeds young girls and women alike. I never reported it. I got my revenge, but that’s not the point.

You see, I hadn’t done anything to provoke anyone. No rape victim ever does.  But this story is about my asexuality,  not about my rape.

Back to asexuality then. I was 14. I wasn’t sexual. I was focused on school, on working hard, getting perfect grades, and getting into college or university on grants and scholarships, like my sister had done. It was the only way for us to get there. We were dirt poor. I didn’t think about dating, or who’s hot, or having sex or anything. In fact, it confused me when other people  my age did. I was a snotty little nerd who prided herself on being the Best Student and getting the Best Grades and being the teacher’s favorite, raising my hand for every question and knowing the answer. Annoying, right?

I never had a chance to explore my sexuality. I had been traumatized. It was going untreated and unspoken. No one knew what happened for nearly 9 years. When a boy at school was being a douchecanoe and actually grabbed my pussy, I lashed at his face with the keys I held like claws. Yeah, I’d seen that tip on the news, about carrying your keys between your clenched fingers. I missed his face, but barely. The other students laughed and thought I couldn’t take a joke. 

“It’s not fucking funny, you immature assholes!”

I try not to be suspicious of him. He has never acted that way toward me before. I try to tell myself “it was coincidence. I just noticed those things more since I’d been attacked. It wasn’t someone he knew.” Because that would be utterly terrifying. But how did the guy know my name, and why was this kid suddenly acting this way toward me? It still nags at me, and I’m 27 now. I was 14 then.

But back to asexuality. Again. I never had a chance to explore. I was terrified. I was traumatized. I had PTSD that wouldn’t be named or acknowledged for several years. I was in attack mode every minute of every day. I didn’t sleep well. I had to force myself to eat. I ran home, on the other side of that street, and stayed away from tall grasses, or dense trees, because I was so afraid. 

I was afraid of intimacy. I was afraid of anything more than hand-holding. I knew boys get horny when they start kissing, so I stayed away from that. I knew that society called girls liars and never blamed the boys. I knew all the blame lines.

I still dressed the same, weather permitting, because those were my clothes. I loved them. But I was afraid of relationships, of being alone with boys who expressed liking me at all. I was scared, and I became mean to push boys away. It worked.

I never had the chance to explore my sexuality. Not like a person who hadn’t been raped right after puberty. 

I missed two menstrual cycles, and was terrified I was pregnant. So I talked to one of my “loser” friends, one of the outcasts, and got some cocktail of pills that it took a lot to pay for. I’m talking “I did 4 8-page book reports in a week” a lot. I took them, at home, at night, in my bed, so my mother wouldn’t know. So if anything happened, like throwing up or the abortion I took them for, I could clean myself up. Hopefully without her knowing.

And I did. I had never been so fucked up in my life. I was scared, and I was crying, and it wasn’t the trauma, it was the feeling of a cocktail of pills racing through my veins. I knew I was going to die. I knew I had taken too much, and it was going to kill me. And I prayed for that. 

I started bleeding. I rushed into the bathroom and tried to clean it off. I wasn’t bleeding out, and it wasn’t my period. So I knew....I knew I was right. I had been pregnant. I stayed in the bathroom for hours. I eventually grabbed a couple maxi pads and went back into my bedroom. I was in pain, but the bleeding wasn’t any worse, but I honestly don’t remember if it was any lighter. I still wasn’t convinced the pills wouldn’t kill me.

I passed out, but I lived. Physically unscathed by my overdose-induced abortion.

Several years later, in a different school, in a different state entirely, I met this crazy ass bitch who would become my best friend. I eventually confided in her that I had been raped years earlier. She never seemed to doubt me.

When I was 18, I met a guy who manipulated me into being his personal sex doll. The first time, I willingly agreed, figuring he was attractive, he was into me, blahblahblah. I figured that I was okay about sex now, and that having sex was just a normal part of modern relationships. The first time with him was unpleasant. But I also knew his temper, so I lied. And then he pressured me over and over and over, and I was scared to say know. By then, my pokerface was wicked so he probably thought I was into it, or he didn’t really care. I kept not saying no because I didn’t want to see his temper unleashed on me. 

Spoiler: That is not consensual sex, that is coercive rape. It was manipulation and indirect threat.

I snapped at his paranoia one day after he told me “the light from your stereo makes you so beautiful when you sleep (I lived on the 2nd level, with no back stairs, and he never slept at my apartment. Stalker-much?) and that if I don’t stop flirting with this guy at school he was gonna beat him to death. From this guy, that was a valid threat. And while I did have feelings for this potential victim, I gave up trying to date him and would merely talk to him and hug him, as I did with many friends in high school. My boyfriend at the time didn’t go to school with me, and admitted to having people watch me for him. Icing on the stalker cake.

So I dumped him. On the spot. He threatened to kill me, so I went to the cops. I was terrified all over again. At that point in my life, it wasn’t easy to scare me. But I was scared. He was arrested. 

That was my unhealthy, initially willing introduction to sex. Even after the willing time, I wasn’t into it.

I did have some healthy, completely consensual sex with other boyfriends after that guy, even if the boyfriends turned out to be unhealthy assholes. I still wasn’t into sex!

When I was 23, my depression had gotten so bad I needed to see a doctor. I was diagnosed with sever major depressive disorder, “just short of a psych ward, because you aren’t actively suicidal” and severe chronic generalized anxiety disorder. She also said, “Insomnia is in here too, but since it’s a symptom of both and you seem to manage okay, we’ll leave it as a symptom.” Great. (Now I suspect it’s DSPS and not insomnia.)

Before I could get my prescription filled, I had to have at least one session with a therapist. Okay, no big deal. She was great. I wish I could have made it a regular thing. She let me talk, but guided the conversation. She confirmed my diagnosis as well as telling me (after a conversation about prescription drug abuse in my last high school) that I very likely also have ADD. “That drug doesn’t work that way unless you have ADD.” Which honestly, explains so much about my life.

And then she asked me if I have additional questions, since time was almost up.

“Yeah. I have a friend....she encouraged me to ask you about PTSD. Cause you see.....” I told her I was raped when I was 14. “....and my friend says I have a lot of the markers for it. Hypervigilance, heightened reflexes, the anxiety, trust issues....” I listed off a few more of what popped up when I looked it up online, but only the things that pertained to me. She asked me about a couple of the symptoms, how they existed in my life. 

She told me, “You seem to have textbook PTSD.”

“Yeah but that’s a little too......perfect of a set of--”

“There is a textbook definition for a reason. It’s still valid if your symptoms match perfectly.

“But it was almost a decade ago...”

“It’s called post traumatic disorder. It doesn’t matter how many years after. It’s still after the trauma happened.”

So yeah, while I wasn’t officially diagnosed, I don’t think I was anyway, a licensed therapist confirmed during a session. Thank you friend, if you are reading this, because I would never have thought I had it, or spoken to a professional, if you hadn’t encouraged me to. Knowing I have PTSD helps a lot. And it’s thanks to you <3 

Moving on, back to sexual relationships.

When I decided “yeah I don’t like sex” and decided to be upfront when the next boyfriend wanted to go there, he outright emotionally abused me. told me I was broken. Told me he loved me and he would do anything to be with me, but that I only agreed to sex because he wanted it, I was broken, damaged, a bitch, etc. This came with a lot of gaslighting, with me supposedly saying things I never said, or telling him something he said and him claiming he never said it and that I was hearing things. And he was good at it. I was losing my mind. I thought maybe I am hearing things, and I tried to change so much about myself because he was smart and talked about big things like science and we could talk politics without fighting, etc. My clothes, my hair, my makeup, my jewelry, my tone of voice, everything that made me me. My identity I worked so hard to sculpt.

I eventually got away from him. Guess what? I still don’t like sex. 

He wasn’t the only one like that. A couple said they were going to do things to fix me.”

And I don’t like genitals. They’re gross to me. I don’t care that others like it, just keep it away from me. That goes for sex and genitals.

But to repeat myself. I never got to experiment with my sexuality like most people.

I was raped. No, I haven’t cried typing this, or had to stop since I started typing this. I can talk about it all day long because I’ve had supportive friends who have made that possible by taking me seriously. And no, my memory wasn’t repressed, which is a good thing, even though it’s been hard, because it never snuck up on me.

The true connection, though, is that my asexuality could very well be trauma based. I’m also aro, which could also be trauma based, due to the cycle of emotional abuse I’ve been through, cause clearly I suck at picking boyfriends. 

TLDR; Whether my orientations are trauma based or not. It doesn’t matter. I am what I am, I have words for what I am (thank you tumblr) and it’s all still very valid.

And believe it or not, this is a shorter version. I could go on. But I won’t. Because it’s after midnight, I’m cold, and I want to sleep. The black cat keeps staring at me, curled up on my bed, waiting for me.

(Final note: That sister of mine? We have a great relationship now. We had to work to repair it, but I’m super glad we did. She is absolutely one of my best friends and biggest supporters. In fact, she follows my blogs and will be reading this after she wakes up and has time. This has more detail in it than she’s seen or heard before and I’m fully aware some of this will be new to her.)

[theoriginalbread]

Venting

TW: domestic violence/abuse, childhood trauma (abuse, neglect, etc.), abandonment, depression, self harm, suicide, PTSD; a whole bag of issues, clearly

⚠️⚠️⚠️ You have been warned! ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Scroll until the colored text to skip!!!

I got really high last night and suddenly got super sad that my entire childhood was robbed from me. I remembered that I used to take care of my baby brother, since he was in his diaper, and he was the best thing in my life at the time. I got to play with my best friend as he grew up and developed skills until he would get to be as smart as, and maybe even smarter than, my older brother and I. I remember feeling so much love for him. I was so excited and that’s about the last real feeling I remember from my childhood. Since then it’s been a slow and steady incline into “maturing” faster than other kids.

I remember how often my mom wouldn’t come and pick me up from school. I would wait and wait in the hot sun on the corner of the school street she instructed me to stay at until she came to get me. She would be there about 60% of the time. Enough for me to get familiar with the route home in case I needed to walk home. I walked home, alone, as a little child, often. And I don’t think I ever felt scared, more like anxious. What would I find out when I get home? Would there be a home? Would my mom be okay? Would my dad be yelling again? If nobody was home, they couldn’t reach me. Some days, I would get home to find no one was home and since I was small, an elementary school child, they wouldn’t give me a key. I would wait outside the house for hours and then cry to my neighbors and ask them if they’d seen my parents leave or if they could help me find them or if they’d let me in. I was ignored by them a lot too. They didn’t want to deal with a crying kid who wasn’t theirs. I never saw the inside of the house they were in because I only ever saw the front door and the window. My mom never scolded me or even acknowledged my feelings. I received no comfort.

I had to start using my brain much more to ignore things around the house and in the family than before. I had to try and keep the act up to not alert anyone that I knew too much. I remember how heartbroken I used to feel when I would see my mom cry and hear my dad yelling. Or how scared I felt when my mom told me if we ever heard them yelling at each other again to just go into the room and put on music real loud. (Trauma based tinnitus anyone? 🤲🏽 Can’t get that fucking ringing out of my ears)

I was confused. I cocked my head at that statement, like a dog, trying to learn new commands. I don’t think I ever got over that exact moment in time. My heart races, miles and miles per hour, at the sound of my parents raising their voices, in jest. In normal conversation. A laugh, through headphones and muffled, sounding too close to a yell and my head starting to spin, my knees lose their strength.

I used to think that I deserved to feel the way I did, at fucking NINE YEARS OLD. I was depressed. I was so horribly depressed I fantasized about dying at school. And I don’t mean intrusive thoughts, I mean genuine fantasy. I would be so lost in fantasy thinking about how much it would mean to people and how sad they would be at my death and that finally they would see that I’m worth their time and affection. So god damn terrible.

That was elementary. Middle school wasn’t any better. In fact it got worse. Yelling matches with my dad almost every other day. I’d pick a fight over everything that I could. I hated him so much. He would always slap me and try and intimidate me, but as stubborn as he made me, I’d never back down. I would double down and yell louder and call him names and watch him break down and cry because he only wanted to be a good father and he hated the way we had become. But I never bought that angle. I hated him so much.

Immediately I’m transported to the night I was on the computer in the living room, laughing and playing with friends. Mom bursts out of the room screaming at the top of her lungs, followed by my father, face so red you’d think he was about to burst. Scream crying her best attempt at a sentence, “he’s going to hit me” and I did not think and I did not take time to listen and immediately put myself between him and her and tried so hard, my one hundred and twenty pound self, against a man, at least a hundred pounds heavier than I, to halt his approach on my mother. My older brother came rushing over to my aid as my younger brother held my mother and backed further and further away while my older and I tried our best to stop my father from moving forward. He didn’t even see us. Whatever the issue, whatever it was that caused him to turn into these fucking demon, he didn’t even acknowledge his own children trying to prevent bloodshed. He was screaming so loud I felt my ears burn after each sentence. He pushed my brother and I aside like rag dolls and yet we both kept pushing him back and harder and at one point I even considered punching him. I’ve never wanted to hit somebody so bad in my life, and that’s On EVERYTHING. I hate violence and he made me want to punch him until his nose broke because of how blind he was.

That’s probably one of the most traumatic days of my entire life, family wise anyway. For months after, he didn’t step foot into our house. He had to fix his shit. Nobody said anything. We just did our best to pick the pieces up and keep moving and helping my mom relax.

For the longest time after, I had problems with my mom. Oh yeah, she’s not so innocent either. I feel terrible for all she’s been through, but it’s not an excuse for how she treated me too. Scratching me and throwing my head into the wall. Yelling at me that I’m just like my father and throwing my phone onto the floor so damn hard it shattered into pieces and spread everywhere into the room. Pieces of glass hit me and I was afraid I’d been cut and she instead checks on my younger brother, in the top bunk of our bunk bed, and apologizes so much and tells him she loves him so much and not to be afraid. She left the house that night, in the middle of the night, and went driving to god knows where and blamed the whole thing on me. She told my dad that I pissed her off because I didn’t listen to her and called her names and none of that was true, obviously. I told her that night I didn’t want to give her my phone because I can’t wake up on time without the alarms. She felt I was undermining her authority by not immediately giving it up. My father came the next day, mad as hell and he slapped me. Told me to apologize to her for all that and I told him, “no, because I didn’t do anything and she hurt me.” He scoffed and went to go talk to her. My mom ignored me for a week after. She didn’t feed me and she didn’t look in my direction. It took a long time for her to talk to me, and she didn’t let it go for months. Years later, I asked him if he knew why I never apologized, then told him about what she did and he said he had no idea. They fought that day. I left the house screaming and crying and having a panic attack. I went to my girlfriend’s house and I slept it all away, blocking both their numbers and trying so hard to will myself dead.

I have so much more to say but I can’t dump everything on the internet. I just feel like I can’t tell anyone this, and obviously there’s a time and place for even the slightest mention of any sort of childhood experiences, but idk. I don’t feel like anyone else understands me and I’m not sure if that’s internal or not. I can’t tell, cause even when I’m with some of my close friends, I feel all they do is talk abt their stuff and ask after they feel they’ve overshared or that they heard what they wanted to hear. And then by the time I get the nerve to start saying what I want to, something else comes up and the topic is gone.

I know I need a therapist, this isn’t new info and it isn’t shocking but man I just need to say it somewhere, ya know? I just can’t keep it inside forever. That thing that people say, “trauma keeps you at the age you experienced it”….that applies to me so hard lmao.

I just wanted a fucking hug man. And my tears wiped away and my damn emotion acknowledged.

If anyone makes it this far, thank you. I hope this wasn’t too long and that it didn’t set off any alarms. Take care of yourself, please?

⚠️⚠️⚠️

End of post!

[obsessedauthorchan-blog]

Shakespearean - Chapter 26

Title: Broken

A/N This is the song I was listening to when I wrote this chapter. It’s just somber enough for the beginning and just hopeful enough for the end.

Jason was reading a book Dick had brought him when the door to his hospital room opened. It was a few hours after Babs (it was weird to call her that now) had left, and Dick had fallen asleep in the chair next to the bed. He had expected the person who just entered to be the nurse who came to check in on him every couple hours, so he looked up with a smile. But when he saw that it was not actually the nurse but Tim who had come into his room, the smile slowly faded away.

He had wondered if he would come. It was already afternoon and he'd been in the hospital for almost 24 hours by then. The fact that his boyfriend was only then coming to see him didn't seem to bode well for Jason, or for his relationship.

Instead of being the first to speak, Jason remained silent, staring at Tim. He had come to see Jason, so let him be the one to talk first. As he stared, Jason realized that Tim looked like shit. Dark bags under bloodshot eyes, wrinkled clothes hanging from his frame, a messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, and his hair a rat's nest - it looked as though Tim hadn't slept at all since he woke up the day before.

Tim swallowed and smiled shyly. "Hi," he said, and it was so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

"Hi back," Jason returned. They waited in another silence, Jason wanting Tim to talk and Tim afraid to do so.

"How are you feeling?"

Jason snorted. "Probably about how you look. Didn't sleep?"

Tim shook his head. "Couldn't."

Jason nodded, though he really didn't understand. "Surprising. You couldn't sleep, but you were the last member of your family to show up to see your own boyfriend in the hospital." Even Damian had come, dragged in by Bruce, and Cassandra had stopped by to say hi, though Jason had a really hard time signing anything to her with the cast on his arm.

Tim said nothing, but Jason swore he could see his lips quivering. Jason closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Tim on the verge of tears. "Why?" he whispered. He needed to know why Tim hadn't come. He needed some reason to blame for it, or else he'd start to blame himself.

It took Tim a moment to answer, and when he did Jason opened his eyes in surprise. "I was working on this." Tim hesitantly stepped closer to the bed and held out the messenger bag to Jason, who took the bag with the arm that wasn't broken. He laid it on the bed and opened it, pulling out a brand new, very expensive looking laptop. 

He looked up at Tim with confusion. "What's this?"

Tim cleared his throat. "It took a while, but I managed to save most of the files off your hard drive. All your essays and documents for journalism are on there. Clark helped me know what to look for to find the important stuff. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to save most of your cache of anime. Sorry about that," he said, a tight-lipped smile on his face that didn't show in his eyes.

Jason internally smiled at the memory of Tim saving his poor laptop from all those viruses. Externally, he didn't make any expression at all, unsure of how he was really feeling in that moment. "And where did this laptop come from?"

"I got it for you. Your old one was totaled, and I figured it was the least I could do." Tim shrugged and refused to make eye contact.

"Because you're breaking up with me." It wasn't a question. Jason had known from the moment Tim had walked in with that sad look in his eyes. Jason had known when Tim walked into the room and didn't immediately pull him into a fierce hug.

Jason had known when Tim didn't come to the hospital once in the whole 14 hours he'd been unconscious. "It's the least you could do because you're breaking up with me."

Tim didn't say anything, and Jason sighed harshly. "You're not fooling me, Timmy. I've been in the hospital for almost 24 hours and you're only now coming to see me. I've spent this whole conversation waiting for you to say it."

Tim cocked his head to the side, a mock hurt expression on his face. "You think I'm cliche enough for 'We need to talk'?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "You took me to a roller rink for our first date, and then we shared a milkshake at a diner. Yes, Tim, you are definitely cliche enough."

Tim sighed, an expression on his face that Jason couldn't quite read. "I wasn't going to say 'we need to talk'." He hesitated for a moment. "I was going to say, 'It's not you, it's me.' That is a completely different cliche."

If he was on the outside looking in, Jason might have laughed. Instead, his shoulders drooped and he looked away from Tim to the other side of the room. "Figures. That was always my least favorite." Jason huffed and shook his head. "It was always the most selfish, it was always the least honest, and it always made the least sense." He turned to look at Tim, accusation and anger evident in his face. "Tell me, Tim, what is it about us that's wrong that's you and not me? What's changed since I told you about my past that could possibly be you and not me? If you're going to break up with me, at least be honest about why."

Tim gaped at Jason, trying to come up with a response, but Jason didn't give him the chance to say anything. "How exactly do you define love, Tim? Because yesterday you told me you love me, and it doesn't make sense to me that somebody would dump somebody they love because something bad happened to them that they couldn't control or prevent. It doesn't seem like love for somebody to break up with someone because they were raped as a child. That doesn't compute for me, so please, Tim, explain to me what love is, because I don't seem to get it."

At this point Jason was on the verge of tears, and he noticed that Tim already had them streaming down his face. The younger man took a halting step toward Jason, his hand reaching out toward him, before he abruptly stopped and jerked his hand back like it had been burned. "You think-" Tim choked on his words, but he swallowed and forced himself to speak. "You think that this is because of you? You think that I could ever stop loving you or leave you because of something like that? Because of a traumatic past?" Tim shook his head. "I saw my parents get brutally murdered when I was 8 and spent the next 3 years staring at the crime scene photos until Bruce and I caught the guy who did it. Believe me, I know about trauma," he ranted, letting out a near hysterical laugh, which woke Dick with a start. The poor guy was so surprised he fell out of the chair and hit the ground hard. He groaned and rubbed his head with his hand.

"Great, now I have a concussion." Then he looked up and noticed the tension between Tim and Jason. The older man swallowed and stood up. "I'm just gunna... um, you know what, I'll be in the hallway." He scampered out the door, the boys' eyes following as he went.

As soon as the door closed behind him, they looked at each other once more. "Then what is it, Tim?" Jason asked, barely managing to keep himself from yelling in his frustration. “Why?”

Tim sighed, quite dramatically if you ask Jason. "Because, Jason. You are broken. You are hurting. And I have no idea how to help you, because I am broken too. You deserve someone who can help you, who can be whole for you, and I can't. I can't do that, and I'm not sure I ever will. You deserve more than me, and you-"

"Bullshit."

Tim blinked, taken aback by Jason's interruption. "Excuse me?"

"I said bullshit." Jason held eye contact with Tim as he forced himself to stand up on the floor in front of Tim.

Tim shook his head. "Jason, you shouldn't be standing. You need-"

"Don't tell me what I need, Tim, because clearly you don't know.” The words were spoken barely louder than a whisper, Jason refusing to be the one to yell in this situation. “I didn't need a laptop to be here for me when I woke up for the first time after blacking out as my former mentor tried to rape me. I needed you to be here when I woke up. I don't need somebody who's got their life all together and has never had anything bad happen to them, because then how the hell would they understand what I'm going through or what it feels like to lose everything?" Jason reached out and cupped Tim's face with the hand on the arm that wasn’t broken. Tim hesitated to meet his eyes, staring at the floor, the walls, the ceiling, Jason's chest, and anything else that wasn't Jason's eyes. "Maybe we're Pangaea."

Tim squinted. "What?"

"Pangaea. You know, that super-continent or whatever. Maybe when you look at us individually, we just look like broken pieces with jagged edges." Jason's thumb smoothed away some of the tracks of tears that still streamed down Tim's face. "But when you put us together, the pieces fit. Maybe we're supposed to be broken together."

Tim took a ragged breath, and he didn't move or speak for a moment. But then he flung his arms around Jason's middle and buried his head into his clavicle. "I'm sorry," he choked out as he cried harder. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. I-" He was unable to finish the sentence because he was crying too hard.

Jason wrapped his arm around Tim's back and pulled him in tighter, setting his chin on Tim's head. He wished he could put both of his arms around him, but one would have to do for now. Ignoring his own tears, he shushed Tim's quiet whimpers. "It's okay, baby. It's okay. You're here now."

"I love you so much," Tim whispered into Jason's shirt, and Jason couldn't help the small, sad smile that graced his lips.

"I love you, too, Timmy." Jason moved back to the bed, coaxing Tim to come with him. Then he laid back down on the bed and pulled Tim down with him so that the younger man's head rested on Jason's chest. He did his best to move the new laptop out of harm’s way and did what he could to make the two of them comfortable. Tim was still crying, letting out all the worry and sadness of the past two days. Tim's tears broke Jason's heart, and he continued to wipe them away until they both fell asleep.

[jennycalendar]

"hey come off anon" *anxiety noises* I will. maybe do that sometime. I don't use tumblr the Conventional Way™ so I haven't actually used my personal blog in yonks. I usually use one of my other 2 and they're both character blogs from different fandoms because I'm an Aspie so I hyperfocus on specific characters- in this case it's Giles tho so I got a lot to say and you don't seem to mind so I'm just. gonna dump some more on you just tell me to stop lol

SO I have a lot of thoughts about Giles and trauma, specifically response to it. Like Jenny says, she feels bad that she doesn't feel better because of his fluttering about and it's been talked about a lot that it's a very realistic and valid way to feel. Rupert as well, fretting and trying to help, is equally realistic and understandable, except he's no stranger to traumatic incidents. Surely he'd realise she needed some space, having had similar feelings with his own traumas? 1/6

Except I don't think he did. Rupert went through a lot at the Watcher Academy, locked in rooms with hungry vampires and made to look through tears into dimensions that send grown men insane, and finally watching his friends and classmates slaughtered in front of him as a result of the the Council's negligence. The Lorophage Demon had been about to feed on him too, and he was saved at the last minute but noted that all of his trauma had been drawn to the forefront of his mind. 2/6

All of it fresh in his thoughts at once. And I think he was very much left alone with those thoughts until the meeting with his father, where he was told to get over it, that his feelings didn't matter. That his friends didn't matter. That he didn't matter. I don't think he ever wanted space. I think he desperately wanted someone to give a shit. And I don't think that ever went away (e.g. drinking with the dangerous, unscrupulous Ethan because hey at least he'll listen while I vent) 3/6

And even when his Gran tracks him down and shows concern and tries to comfort him, Edna Giles was a Watcher of the Council. Used to lead it. Her grandson was not, would never be, the highest priority. She sets him straight by convincing him back into the Council, where he proceeded to repress like it was going out of style and throw himself into the role she provided and we all know what that did to him in canon. It stopped him being dangerous, but it didn't really help him. Council M.O. 4/6

Whereas my dumb au has him separated even further from the Council and in with people who aren't ordinary but won't encourage him into self-destruction. People he can be himself around while he figures out who that is, who can help him see his magic for what it is- something he can do, that what he does with it is up to him. He doesn't have to be a copy of his father to be a good person 'cause right now he's a mess but these kids give a shit and Jenny gives a shit and that's so much. 5/6

It's a chance to explore the kind of person he could have become if given the chance, and to see how that different person could have changed things with the Scoobies (with Jenny who could have been so good and with Willow and Xander and Faith who all needed someone to give a shit) and the Hellmouth and whatever Watcher they'd send to Buffy and everything, for better or for worse. (I'm so glad you like my dumb ramblings from before btw!!!) 6/6

don’t undersell yourself!!!!! i seem to have so many people in my life as of late who r doubting their contributions n their words even more than i do and when i get these lovely asks n thoughts it’s so important that you know i appreciate them greatly & my inbox is always open, anon or no

anyway um. oh my gosh? i’ve had v long conversations w/ one of my giles/jenny friends re: the subject of giles’s trauma & his general tendency to repress things, because i absolutely agree with everything you’re saying here. like i feel like giles’s desire to Be There For Jenny could 100% be read as him wanting to provide for her what he wants from someone else. hlsdkf i wish i had Good Things to contribute but your asks always knock me out of the park. so. all of this is excellent content

which is i guess why i’m always so soft for giles & jenny?? the one moment we see him being vulnerable and genuinely open, imo, is in the dark age, when he’s telling her that he’s not a safe person to be around. and also like...that’s the one time we see him comforted. like he looks at her and you see him thinking “this is someone who doesn’t want to go away” and there’s a very real, very genuine moment there for him. of course things get confusing and painful after that and i definitely don’t want to disregard the fact that jenny’s own journey is similarly complicated but like....i’m realizing now as i type this that it’s possible he wants to give her that feeling. he wants to make her feel just as comforted as she makes him just by Being There. which is so completely valid and again why i’m always so proud of him for just backing off (tho i of course feel bad for him, because who wouldn’t? that’s such a painful way to have your past dredged up. literally the worst-case scenario)

[ayanoinpurple]

Saeran Rant

Okay, so I finished V’s route last week and I have quite a few things to get off my chest. So, like a rational human being, I berated my friends to some extent, but that wasn’t enough so now I’m here. V’s route was not something that I really enjoyed, and I find a LOT of problems with it. 

I’m not saying that the route isn’t well done, because it is. It’s spectacularly written and it played every heartstring I had. The VA’s were amazing at their jobs as usual, and all the hard work payed off into this beautifully tragic story. 

However, as a person whose favorite character from the game is Saeran, a number of things angered me. Time and time again Saeran has been treated by the fandom like someone they could just dump all the problems on, and throw him away at the end. They treat him as if he has only one dimension, which as we learn from the other routes and endings that isn’t the case at all. He’s been written in such a way that a lot of players have either taken the “Cute blushy bad boi uwu” or “he’s fucking creepy and abusive no” approach. 

These opposing views are both ways that he can be interpreted. But the way I read him, as an author who has experience in writing characters who’ve been through trauma, and have issues that they don’t know how to deal with, I think both of these fall short of the true essence of his character. 

When examining Saeran you have to acknowledge both of his alters, along with his character as a child, and his character in the secret endings. You can’t just pick one aspect of his personality, even if it seems to be the dominant one, and label him with it. Personality changes all the time, and so it is an unreliable source of information when it comes to the true soul of a person. We see this most evidently in Seven’s rapid change of personality in his route. 

This means that when it comes down to it, Saeran Choi, the person, is both “Cute and blushy” and “Creepy and Abusive”, and yet neither. This is where evaluating his personality over time can lead us to uncover his true character. 

When he was a child, Saeran was very loving and attached to Saeyoung, his trust in him almost boundless. This is why being told he was abandoned was so traumatic even at 17. And having been kept away from the outside world since birth would mean that even at that age he was still very much like a child much younger. I would compare young Saeran mostly to Ray, which is why I think Ray was derived from his innocent side, but we’ll get to that in a moment. Because of the way he was raised it was very easy for Rika to manipulate him, to turn him into her loyal servant. He would become attached to her in very much the same way as he was to Saeyoung, but on a much stronger scale. 

However, as a result of the torture, the trauma and brainwashing Rika put him through to get to that point caused him to split into two alters. Now, when examining DID it is so common for people to categorize the alters as one “true identity” with another or more “alters” that share the mind and body. While this can be true in some cases, that isn’t exactly the most helpful mindset to have of the disorder as a whole. Each case is unique, and I think that can also be said for Saeran. 

I would argue that while both Ray and Unknown (because if I refer to him as Saeran this will get confusing) acknowledge each other as separate entities, and act as if they are, it isn’t exactly true. In the end, both Ray and Unknown are Saeran, just different versions of himself, aspects of him that split off in order to fulfill what he needed at certain times to be able to process what was happening to him. 

Ray is Saeran’s innocence, his kindness, his heart basically. He needs Ray to feel loyalty, to feel loved and supported. Ray is the scared little boy that didn’t want to believe his brother left him behind. 

Unknown is Saeran’s anger, his vengefulness, his head. He needs Unknown to protect himself from those that would seek to hurt him, which is why he’s so aggressive. He does whatever he thinks will keep him safe and “happy”. Unknown is the furious brother strangling Seven because he put him in danger, betrayed him, and broke him. 

Now trying to put this into categories and generalize these two alters who are so much more complex than I could even explain is problematic, but it is helpful to help you see what I’m getting at. Neither one of them is “Saeran” or the true personality, because both of them have to combine in order to form Saeran. When Ray and Unknown hate each other it appears to be two people who hate each other, but really it seems to be Saeran’s internal monologue of hate on the parts of himself he himself dislikes. 

We never see the juxtaposition between Ray and Unknown in any other route but V’s, and that leads me to think that by that time and under repetitive torture and drugs that the innocent side of him, the one that housed his undying loyalty was crushed and pushed into the back of his mind. He gives in to his own pain and blocks his heart to stop from hurting. It’s with this mentality of “stopping the pain” that he’s so willing to die in the other routes. “I have nowhere else to go” and “Anything that will stop the pain” are two COMPLETELY DIFFERENT reasons for self destructive tendencies. And seeing how that changes over time shows the very deep amount of pain he has been through. 

Which is why this route made me so angry at the way he’s been treated. Saeran is extremely loyal, protective, devoted, and kind upon closer evaluation. It is only the things that have happened to him that corrupted and fractured that. However, in the after endings we see that he’s able to start recovering and these traits are still there. Corrupt or Recovered these stay the same and are evident throughout. 

Seeing people generalize him or hate on him because of the things he’s done or insinuated makes me so furious because it’s clear they’re focusing more on how dangerous he is rather than the fact that he’s just as much, if not even MORE the victim than V. I agree that mental illness doesn’t get you a complete pass, but I think that with all the evidence pointing towards how Saeran isn’t bad by nature he’s been dealt the worse card. 

V is a wonderful person and deserved to be saved, I agree with that statement wholeheartedly. However, I don’t think that by focusing on his big heart and love for the RFA and Rika that he should just get a pass for the things he’s done. Telling him that things aren’t his fault may help him heal in the long run, but it isn’t exactly true. Sure, Rika’s problems weren’t his fault, but his obsession did lead in some way to her falling deeper and deeper into them. And it’s because of his selfishness and thinking that what he thinks is best for everyone else that Seven sat there fighting against his own brother unknowingly leading to his brother’s defeat and demise. 

Not telling Saeyoung about Saeran may have kept Saeyoung’s loyalty and friendship for a short time, but do you think that he won’t eventually find out about what really happened? How is he going to react then? If he had at least known, he might have been able to rescue Saeran, even at the last minute. And the SECOND that he started showing self destructive tendencies someone should have tried to help him, to get him away from Mint Eye, or at least to convince him that he wasn’t unloved. But there wasn’t even an option for that. He was just ignored and left to die as a last show of loyalty. 

Not at all unlike V throwing himself in front of that bullet meant for Rika. 

And yet because Saeran’s problems are his aggressiveness he doesn’t seem to get much sympathy. He’s labelled as the “crazy creepy bad guy” and people abhor him. If V isn’t the bad guy even after his contributions, then why is Saeran? Why even is Rika? If you look into it, you see that none of them are the true antagonist in this game. Saeran is NOT the bad guy. He is not solely creepy or a bad boy. He’s just a victim. So is Rika. They’re written that way, but sometimes it’s hard to look at them that way when compared with the things that they’ve done, but it’s true all the same. None of them deserve what happened to them because in the end they weren’t fully in control, and they all recognize that. They were prisoners to their own minds. 

The true antagonist of this game is Mental Illness.  

I don’t want a Saeran route because I’m attracted to the dyed hair, leather jacket bad boy type or because I think he’s the cutest thing on planet earth. I want a Saeran route because it would make up for all this misunderstanding. It would explain what it’s like to struggle with these issues. It wouldn’t be easy, and it would be genuinely horrifying as it would be scary to delve into his dark and tortured mind. But most importantly, it would show this poor tortured boy that even though he’s cracked and broken that he’s still a beautiful character and deserves love. 

I’m just so tired of seeing people hate him for something he can’t control, and shoving him into a corner he doesn’t belong in. 

He deserves to be saved. 

[toomanyfeelings5]

brief thoughts on black sails season 2, episode 7:

1. me, watching ep6: gee i wonder if anne and max are going to get more development.

black sails: say no more.

2. jesus christ, anne was married off at 12 or 13, depending on how long the marriage lasted, and had to endure sexual, emotional, and physical abuse. and jack barged in and slit her husband’s throat. i don’t know the age difference between them, but obviously anne has felt obligated to be with him, to be his protector, to be bound to him. no wonder she’s so adrift right now. what’s she to do with all of this soured gratitude? what’s she to do now that she’s been left behind by the only man she’s ever cared for?

3. “what the fuck am i?” god, every scene with anne felt vital, and painful, and raw, and i’m emotional about anne bonny, fearsome and badass real-life pirate! anne’s been a kind of backround character so far, hasn’t gotten much development, but now she’s become just as important, to me anyway, as the other main characters. “i just thought they’d kill you.” suddenly her conversation with max on the beach takes on this new context, and...ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh it’s so much.

4. but also!!!! max!!!! idk the exact quote but she tells anne, “i have been alone,” and, “i saw no reason for living,” but then she tells anne that there is life to be found if she makes it hers. max has been where anne is, in a lot of ways. wow. what has max been through, besides the awfulness of the beach? that’s an immediate trauma max has been presumably dealing with, but what is her backstory? her tenderness and gentleness and kindness with anne makes sense because max wants anne to be her partner in gaining more power, but more importantly, i think max just wants to help someone she sees as struggling with things max has struggled with herself. max has been adrift, alone, depressed, traumatized, and i’m guessing has also struggled with her sexuality in the past. anne was the only one who helped max on the beach, and max wants to return a similar kind of favor (eleanor wanted to, and eleanor helped kill those 8 men, but that’s another story, and max doesn’t know that). i need one million fics about max and what helped her find herself and a path in life. 

5. i know comp het stuff isn’t the point of these scenes, but i was getting those vibes when anne almost slept with that dude, and i was also getting those vibes when max was talking to anne about not seeing anyone like her in the world, and feeling worthless because of it. damn, i did not expect these scenes and conversations to hit me that hard, but i’ve got a lump in my throat typing this. who knew watching historical pirates struggling with internalized homophobia and identity would make me feel things?? (it’s more likely than i thought)

6. anne and flint are similar in that they’ve both kind of...staved off growth for themselves in favor of violence/action/etc? they’re both struggling with the persona they’ve built for themselves and the selves they are beyond those masks, and they’re struggling with accepting themselves and i HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THIS.

7. max gave a no-bullshit policy to idelle to carry out, but she also said that her door was open if the girls wanted to talk, and i just!!!! max is doing her best!!!!!! she wants to gain power but not at the expense of herself and of her values and of her compassion for others!!!!! i love her!!!!!

8. BILLY EXPOSING DUFRANE AND KICKING HIM AND THE OTHER MEN OUT OF THE CREW FOR CONSPIRING AGAINST FLINT. damn i did not see that coming. billy is a good egg. (i also like how it’s still ambiguous if flint let him fall into the water or not.) also!!! billy talking about torture and about being seen as less than a man (WHEN WILL THE ACTUAL FORMER SLAVES GET A PROMINENT ROLE ON THIS SHOW LIKE THEY DESERVE), and how he’s kind of aligned himself with flint because of what he’s been through? wild. 

9. YES FLINT, LISTEN TO BILLY: HIRE MR. SCOTT AS YOUR NEW QUARTERMASTER!!!! WHEN WILL MR. SCOTT RETURN!!! I LOVE HIM, WHAT HAS HE BEEN UP TO?

10. silver’s speech to the men was very business as usual, as was his argument with flint about the gold. but omg, THE GOLD ISN’T GONE! IT’S RIGHT THERE! THE SCOUTS....LIED...?? I’M CONFUSED, @ black sails fandom, did flint tell the scouts to lie? when did silver find out that the gold was still on the beach? 

11. eleanor dumping vane, FINALLY, as a political, business, and romantic partner. the downside to this is that now she’s completely alone. who does she confide in? who will care for her, at the end of the day? she’s made a lot of sacrifices and has cut a lot of ties with people to reach this point: flint has too, and he had better honor this. eleanor resting her head on her father’s shoulder was quietly heartbreaking. she needs a hug from someone who really, consistently cares for her. also! eleanor and flint’s little conversation/flint actually smiling! ALSO! abigail saying that her father told her how awful captain flint is.....oh no.....i have a bad feeling about this. 

12. flint talking so much this ep about how to present an argument, how he plans to be perceived by the men, etc....flint really does care what people think. he has to. but it also calls to mind the fact that captain flint himself is really a persona, a mask. silver has one on at all times, different masks for different occasions: i don’t think we’ve seen a genuine moment from him that doesn’t involve his survival or the gold.

13. flint telling abigail, “i’m james. james mcgraw,” broke my heart. when was the last time captain flint called himself or thought of himself as james mcgraw? how long has it been since he’s said those words outloud? god, the way his face just kind of...opened itself, how he looked like he was going to cry, how soft he was. he has to be, for this political maneuver to work, but also :’’’’))) im cry.

14. looks like it’s time for Richard Guthrie to die mysteriously, RIP, he had one (1) good moment as a father, ever, in his whole shitty life.