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please-picturemeintheweeds · 3 months

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Re: the end of your Joever/renegade post, it’s almost like wondering at what point does the “rough patch” cease to be a rough patch and just how the person *is*. As in, this is just how they choose to exist or are most comfortable living as a person.

(Not villainizing him at all, it’s just alluding to what you and others said… at some point it stops being a single issue or issues to fix and starts revealing itself to just be fundamental differences in compatibility and outlook.)

Just got this and I know it was sent pre-TTPD tracklist, but yeah!! Like it makes so much sense to me that a relationship would take over a year to go from Renegade to YLM and then another year to reach breaking up for good. That honestly feels like the most normal progression in the world, and I’m sooo interested to hear how she describes this experience and gives voice to something that I think a lot of people have been through.

I’ve talked about it on here before but my current relationship is 6 years old, and Renegade literally sparked some very VERY serious conversations for us when it came out because it gave voice to things we were dealing with and we were able to address using the language she offered us in the song. That was a definite “rough patch.” We nearly broke up, and had a real epiphany about things that we both needed to change in order to continue, and the types of support we both needed in order to stay safe and healthy. I felt so seen by Renegade and then in midnights as well- labyrinth and The Great War come to mind - the decision to stick it out. When I heard about joever it hit me (and others, from what I’ve heard!) suuuuper hard because it was like wait. Whatever measures they took after Renegade and the Great War actually didn’t fix it; what does that mean for me!? I was soo shaken up because of how strongly I related to the struggle (as it was portrayed to us). But that gets to the point of this ask: the difference between a rough patch and something un-fixable. I’m certain this will come up on TTPD, and it’ll be a deep portal time travel exploration of how she came to that exact conclusion. I can’t wait.

#i also have thoughts about how would’ve could’ve should’ve fits into all this: our rough patch was directly related to my PTSD #Which got significantly worse in 2021 and my partner was having secondary ptsd from watching me have WCS style freak outs #And feeling powerless about it #So would’ve could’ve should’ve feels very related to the processing of wether the relationship is in a rough patch #and dear reader #It’s hard to tell what is Real when you’re Falling Apart. Hence the whole concept of midnights! Exploring the past to understand the presen #And I think Joe likely was happy to attribute all of their problems to Taylor (this was my experience with an ex)-#He coasted on my self hatred and didn’t really object when I had anti hero moments #So then when the same stuff started to come up with my current partner and he showed up and took responsibility for his own stuff…#That really clarified that it was a rough patch that was possible to work through with the right person #And that my history/situation didn’t make me inherently unloveable etc #It’s just so poetic that midnights (an album about choices) led to the choice to end her relationship #And something about autonomy there too #C #would’ve could’ve should’ve hours #Ptsd #trauma #joever

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nefertitiacai · 11 months

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Astro observations : "I GOT IT FROM MY DADDY" (AND MOMMY) edition

yk that one "DADDY" song by PSY sksksk

🪷 Venus in 4th house is an indicater of person being very beautiful and blessed with good looking genetics. They can also be conventionally attractive since 4th house also rules homeland, so they may be deemed as attractive where they live. A genetically blessed placement.

🪷 Jupiter in the 4th house is also an indicator for having a feature that may be "large" that runs through the family. Like being voluptuous or tall. Again a "genetically blessed" placement.

🪷 Sun/Jupiter in the 10th house individuals can learn a lot of stuff related to careers and build connections through their father.

🪷 Moon/Saturn in the second house may have some distinct facial features which resemble their parents. As both are considered planets that rule over parents and the second house rules over face.

🔴 (TW: Generational Trauma) ⏬

(also the observation and remedies which I've mentioned are purely based on generalization, if you may be dealing with it on a serious note then consulting a medical/health care professional is what is required💚)

🪷 Those who have Mars/Chiron/Saturn/Pluto in the 4th house/cancer/conj Moon may beat themselves up for a certain "flaw" which they consider themselves to have. This habit or problem may make them feel powerless. As if they are unable to change it. However, in actuality that "problem" didn't start with them but may be a generational thing/a characteristic which got inherited from a family member. [Our genetics play a major role in general with the way we are today (yes even personality-wise). But one can change it by will and if they indulge in self-improvement techniques like meditation, visualization, journaling with clear intentions, and other mindful activities]

📚 (PS. as a book enthusiast to others who are into reading self help books I'd recommend those who are dealing with such problems to read the book "It Didn't Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle" by Mark Wolynn 😃)

(TW: mommy issues) moon conj Pluto placement and being notorious with mommy issues.

However, in my case, I have this placement and I don't feel it to be like that. My relationship with my mom is a very typical one. We have different views on certain stuff but we aren't toxic. Nonetheless, what I consider really to be toxic is my mom's side of the family and her childhood had also not been the best. So this placement actually may be something regarding the fact that your mum had to go through a lot and if you know that fact then it is easy to forgive her and give her a tight hug whenever you can.

This placement can also be an indicator of the child's mom going through a stressful phase during the time of the birth.

🟢 TW over, ok enough with sad stuff now 🤧

🪷 It is an observation but I've noticed Sagittarius, Pisces, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Leo placements folks may resemble their father's looks and personality-wise distinctively. Like there's that one feature that they may also be known for like, "you have a smile like your dad". It may be due to them being ruled by Jupiter, Saturn, and sun respectively, the celestial bodies which deal with "fatherly figures" in astrology.

🪷 Leo, Cancer, Aries, Gemini and Capricorn placements 🤝 acting all wholesome and cute when their mom is around.

🪷 If you and your sibling both have prominent mercury placements then you might hear someone saying this at some point "oh YoU BOth LoOk likE eACh otHer a Lot" and y'all will be like "b*tch no, from which angle, I am obviously more gorgeous 😤"

🪷You know being a Sagittarius 🐎(also honorable mention Aquarius and Pisces) this proverb literally go with us for our parents 'You can lead a horse 🐎 to water but you can't make him drink '

📚[ PS. if the horse is willing then only it'll drink, you can't drink water on its behalf. (That's the universal truth with life btw, you are responsible for your own tasks. Others can only guide you but in the end, it's you who will have to act, innit)]

Even though it is for our own "good" and "wellbeing" that our parents do and force these placements to be doing things in a certain way these placements will only "keep drink up to it" if it gives them a feeling of expansion and freedom. (That's why Sagittarius and Pisces placements are deemed to be "irresponsible" but that's not the case. And Aquarius placements have a reputation to be "rebellious" but that's unlikely. These placements most of the time may think ahead of their time and may have a bigger picture on things that's why they may consider certain tasks to be irrelevant (however it can also backfire and this certainly doesn't mean to be an excuse to run away))

🪷 Virgo and Libra placements tend to have good mannerisms which may be taught by their parents. They are big on punctuality. Also, they are well-behaved and sweet people. Often being talked about as "their parents raised them well".

Virgo is associated with the 6th house which is also the house that rules over service so they tend to be helpful. Libra on the other hand is associated with the 7th house which is the house of partnerships, that's why they like to treat people with kindness and have a pleasing appeal. Like a comrade. (Although this also has a shadow aspect to it, this can make these placements to be perfectionists in unhealthy amounts and they may start to have people-pleasing tendencies. They may also grow pessimistic since many people may view their kindness to be their weakness, which is not true at all you guys, y'all are great and don't fall into what those low vibrational people have to say.)

It's 11:11 while I type this 💫 also, umaru chan is so adorable

#astro community #astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #family #astrology community #astrology placements #astro placements #astro notes

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sfehvn · 6 months

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sacrifices

Request: "if requests are still open (if not pls ignore) i’ve been obsessed with the idea of astarion being confronted with what tav becomes if he ascends. i picture the gang with raphael, astarion is determined to undergo the ritual, and raphael snaps his fingers to morph their strong leader into a frail, broken version of themselves. afraid of him. can he live with what his decision does to the person he loves, does that knowledge change his mind? could be something completely different tho, i’d love to hear your take on it!" A/N: I took some creative liberties because I'm still mid-Act 3, but I hope it's up to par nonetheless. I also think I totally misinterpreted the prompt now that I'm re-reading it after finishing this. I'm kinda not very brainy. (sparkle sparkle) I hope you enjoy anyways! lol Word count: 2,426 Characters: Astarion x Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

It was as if every fibre of your being had been desecrated from its vessel within an instance. You suddenly felt the scrutiny of every eye in the room upon you; you felt naked. The strength that had bumbled in every nerve of your body had been silenced. The gravity of the situation you were in towered on slouched shoulders and you gasped at the overwhelming perception. Every position you’d been in since aboard the nautiloid ship assaulted your mind. You hadn’t died, yet the trauma that you could have knocked the air from your lungs. A veil had been lifted from your desensitized mind. You weren’t even through the thick of it, the squirming parasite behind your eye being a palpable reminder. You stared wide-eyed at the group before you, taking note of the uneasy way Shadowheart looked from you to Astarion. You tried to choke out something, anything, but instead, a terrified whimper left your lips.

The imbalance of authority was instantly discernable. Formerly the most capable of them all reduced to a powerless husk. Astarion stares at you warily, stepping closer only for you to cower backward, all but tripping over your own feet. “Please.” You pleaded against your better judgment. You were attentive to the knowledge he would never hurt you, but there was something profound in your brain telling you to run. He was a predator and you his prey. Perhaps the security of knowing you could always defend yourself if it came down to that was always there. Without the power, without those means, you indeed were afraid.

Realization washes over Astarion’s face as he looks at you. The tension in the room was so impenetrable that Shadowheart spoke up hesitantly. “Give her some space.” No matter how sympathetic her words are, when she touches Astarion’s arm to give him a gentle tug back, he rips his extremity from her grasp. “Astarion.” She says firmly, looking at you with sad eyes. It was unspoken; if this was what you were to be, you’d never make it.

“Fix her, devil.” He sneers, disregarding Shadowheart to the best of his ability. Raphael chortles, a playful glint in his eye. This was all a game to him.

“So sad, wouldn’t you agree?” Raphael muses apathetically, moving to fiddle with the ends of your hair. Your body tenses and you want to run, but you’re frozen in place by fear. “At the end of the day, we are ultimately what our bodies perceive us to be. As for Tav, it would seem she’s not the leader you lot took her for after all. A travesty really.” His eyes lock on Astarion, a giddy smile on his face at the vampire’s anger. It oozed off of him, feeding Raphael sadistic joy.

“You will not touch her Raphael-” Before he knew what had happened, he was laid out across the floor by a flick of the devil’s hand. Despite the aching in his bones, he pushes himself back up onto his feet, ready to pounce once again. Raphael already has his hand raised, ready to knock Astarion back once again.

This time it’s Karlach’s hand that grabs him, holding him firmly in place. “Astarion, this won’t solve anything.”

“By the hells it won’t! So that’s it? You want to abandon her here? After all she’s done for all of us? You ungrateful bastards! She’s stuck her neck out for each one of us and you turn on her just like that? Pathetic.” Astarions spits, his body shaking from the rage bubbling within himself.

“Of course not! We love her just as much as you, but charging nonsensically at a devil whom we cannot touch over and over again won’t fix it.” Karlach exclaims and, perhaps because it was the most emotionally driven of the group to speak up, Astarion’s body loosens in defeat. Karlach withdraws her hand cautiously.

“As much entertainment as I’m getting from watching this debacle, I believe we’re done here for now. I trust you’ll discuss this with your little wizard friend and let him know the crown is mine and I expect to receive it as soon as it is in your possession. Upon payment, I’ll restore our precious Tav’s previous state of being. I’m glad we’re all on the same page.” Raphael sends the group off with a snap of his fingers. The spinning surroundings bring you to your knees and you squeeze your eyes shut in a failed attempt to block out the sensation. Once you open your eyes, the group is back in the rented room of Elfsong.

A combination of the intense whirring, of everyone’s eyes on you, of your power being ripped from your body; you wretch. Your body heaves as the nausea finally subsides, Astarion is by your side, rubbing circles over your back and holding your hair loosely in his hand. Karlach has already fetched a fresh bucket of water and a stack of rags to clean the mess. Halsin, Jaheira, Wyll, Lae’Zel, and Gale look on in confusion, and you note Shadowheart gathering them together. Her voice was whispered and you couldn’t make out what was being said, but you didn’t have to be a scholar to know she was filling them in on the events that had transpired. Even Mizora was amongst them as if she was one of the same.

The sight makes you want to wretch again but you hold back, gently pushing Astarion’s hands away from you. Your heart aches at the hurt look on his face but you just couldn’t. The power imbalance was too significant for you to handle in the moment; around any of your comrades, to be fair. However, there was something about Astarion that terrified you now. You knew it was senseless, but it couldn't be helped. “I need to be alone right now.” You manage from your raw throat. You did need to be alone; as alone as you possibly could be in the large room with nine other occupants.

Karlach was one of the only people you allowed to stay with you as you lay in a daze on your bed. She was toweling a damp cloth over your forehead, chattering as usual. You recognized she was trying to act normal as if you hadn’t just had everything you’d ever known mangled from your very essence. You appreciated it. It was a far cry from the remainder of the party, now not bothering to hide what they were discussing as they tried to formulate next steps in the center of the room. You’d wished they wouldn’t, as selfish as it was. Though it seemed you were of some semblance of sound mind because you refrained from asking them to shut it down. They had to go on; with or without you. Astarion watched on in disgust from a corner of the room.

Seeing you like this was destroying him, eating at his soul. He felt a fierce desire to protect you in this state, to keep you safe, yet you wouldn’t even let him near you. You were the only person who hadn’t treated him like something disposable in almost two centuries of existence. He feared that was gone. Would things get better? He yearned to hold you, to tell you everything would be okay. He hadn’t seen fear in someone’s eyes even comparable to yours since he was still a mindless slave to Cazador. Knowing that you felt that way about him struck him viscerally. He felt greedy for thinking it, but even if you didn’t become the fearless Tav you once were, he’d hoped you would eventually gain that trust with him again. Whatever the outcome, he would do what needed to be done to protect you.

“I’m sorry but suggesting we just hand over Karsus Crown to a literal devil is insane! Have you lost your senses?” Gale shouted with conviction, throwing his hands up wildly.

“Gale. What choice do we have? Tav has been a friend and she’d do the same for any one of us. We know what must be done.” Halsin reasons calmly in an attempt to ease the distressed wizard.

“Well, I would bloody hope not!” Gale snaps in astonishment. “This is ludicrous!”

Mizora pipes up and there is an air of amusement in her statement, “The bumbling one is correct. Raphael promises peace to the Nine Hells, but it is only a matter of time before he takes on other conquests. If you’d prefer the hells turn over; by all means.”

“Come on! The lot of you have forced me into agreeance with a fiend.” Gale mutters.

“A battle he will surely lose. Circumstantially, there’s no way the crown is powerful enough to intercept our plane.” Shadowheart reasons.

“Shadowheart, I have a great amount of respect for you, my friend. But you’ve no idea what you're talking about.” Gale holds a hand up dramatically in her direction.

“She has a point.” Wyll finally offers his own input. “If our plane of existence could be overturned with the simple possession of this crown, it would have been done already, wouldn’t it? And if Raphael only wants to restore order in the hells, why not?”

“All it would take is the correct entity. Just because something has not been done, does not mean it will never be done.” Gale sighs and there is a brief bought of silence before he continues. “Listen, Tav means just as much to me. It would pain me not to have her fight alongside us again, but-”

“Careful Gale of Waterdeep.” Astarion jeers as he approaches the group. “It would be a pity if someone had to put you in your place, but I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it. At this point, I’d think it a service to the rest of us.”

“Gale is right.” You declare. The group had been so engaged in conversation that they had failed to notice your approach. “I admire the lengths you guys would go to restore my power and I cherish each and every last one of you.” You shoot a small smile of reassurance at Gale, indicating that you indeed meant him too. “That being said, I recognize the need for boundaries. If this is the end of my road, well, I take pride in knowing I had the opportunity to assist our victors to the finish line.” You attempt a laugh, but it just sounds sad. You clear your throat. “Raphael cannot come into possession of this crown. I hope you all can respect my wishes.”

Astarion wants to shake you, to tell you how foolish you were being. Had you really lost all of your senses when Raphael had stripped you of your power? “You will die, Tav. Do you not understand that? Without the means to protect yourself, you will die!” His shouting caused you to flinch and he instantly regretted it. The group sat in a paralyzed silence as they watched you two, not daring to interrupt Astarion in this state. “I will not lose the first thing I’ve loved in over two hundred years.” Tears threatened his ruby-red eyes, and he fought them back, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he’d made himself amongst the party.

“I know, Star.” You finally choke out after a lull of silence. You look away from him quickly and Karlach ushers you back to your bed. Astarion looks around the group with narrowed eyes as they disband to make their way to their collective beds. Why wasn’t anyone arguing this? How could they be so comfortable sentencing you to your death?

Astarion stared up at the ceiling of the inn that night, unable to slip into his meditative state. Instead, he tried to grasp at the idea of you simply not existing—the months you had spent together that had felt like the entirety of his life left to mean nothing. It was tragic, just like the rest of his life. Of course someone like him couldn’t have a simple, happy ending. Why wouldn’t the very thing that kept him going be destined for death?

His eyes open at the sound of approaching footsteps and your distinctive scent welcomingly floods his senses. He looks over to see you approaching his bed timidly as if you were uncertain about the action. “I don't,” you paused, fumbling with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t think I can sleep without you, Star.” You two hadn’t spent a night in separate beds since he had confessed his true feelings for you. The admission made his heart swell with hope and he shifts wordlessly, making room for you on the small bed beside him. He holds open the blanket for you, and you climb in.

He hears your heart slowing to a calm pace. The emotions were too overwhelming for you to comprehend. You had a newfound fear of the vampire, but your body craved his. Not just sexually, but it longed to be near him. It was as if it needed him to function properly. Astarion felt it too. It was like a missing piece of himself had returned to him, even if this moment was fleeting; he would hold you for as long as you let him, and he would wait for you to return when you were ready.

There was one thing he was sure of. If you met your demise, so would Astarion. The time of only seeking power and authority was over for him. If he could, he would lay in this bed with you until you both withered to nothing. He did not want to outlive you in any sense of the word. He made a silent vow always to protect and keep you alive along with him. It was implicitly clear what he would be doing. The ascension had to be done, if only so you could live to see this through. The power and glory not even a last thought in his decision. He’d do this for you—the many conversations the two of you shared about the ritual flitted through his mind. You’d always been so careful of his wants while expressing apprehension about him going through with it. You’d convinced him, too. He was set that it was not what he wanted. He had been blinded by the splendor of it all. Things were different now. You would no longer be able to keep yourself alive; but he could.

“I love you, Tav.” He whispers.

“I love you, too, Star. More than air.” You murmured into his chest.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #ascended astarion #ascended!astarion x reader #ascended!astarion x tav #tav #reader

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kkvqwrites · 1 year

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You Flinched | 141 Headcannons

Don't mind me, just some 141 boys reacting to finding out reader has a history of abuse or DV. We all know that our boys would never harm a loved one, but I began thinking about them responding to their loved one being triggered. Because trauma isn't rational.

CW: DV mentioned/alluded to (not on-screen), trauma

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,833

A/N: Yes this is self-indulgent because I have my own history and use my comfort characters to help. So I hope it can help someone else in the same way it helps me. Also forgive me, I threw it together on a whim and didn't really edit it.

Simon "GHOST" Riley

Simon is usually very careful with how he presents. He knows he's big, he knows he's intimidating, and most of all he knows what it's like to be vulnerable and scared of someone bigger than you. He knows when to use his voice/stature to his advantage (like on the battlefield) vs when to tone it down (like in private). He never wants to be scary to those he loves, ever. In fact, he wants his loved ones to have the opposite experience from what he had growing up.

That said, we all have our moments. It was, you both could admit, a silly argument over what ended up amounting to a non-issue. He was fresh back from the field and sleep-deprived and you had had a long shitty day and so a small disagreement became an argument. Somewhere in the bickering Simon decided he was over it. He stood, crumpling the paper he was holding into a fist and raising his voice, which he almost never did.

The combination of the fist and the yelling was what did it. He stood up so tall, so fast, and suddenly you were eight again, hiding in the cupboards and terrified to make a sound. Not knowing what would happen if you were found, but knowing for certain it wouldn't be good. When your parents went into their rages, there was nothing to do but hide and wait it out. As if reciting a dance you knew by heart, you shrank back, hands coming up defensively.

Simon noticed instantly, despite your best attempts to play it off. He knew all too well the look of a terrorized inner child and recognized it immediately in your pale face and shrinking posture. It broke his heart; he immediately regretted lashing out as it was, but this was even worse.

He'd step back, giving you space. He'd ask permission before approaching you and before hugging you, and once you gave it you'd be wrapped in an embrace that was both tender and hard as steel. He'd hold you for a long time, not saying anything. If you cracked and it all came spilling out, he'd listen intently. If you didn't want to talk about it, he'd respect it and not breathe a word about it until you were ready. You could feel in his heartbeat his need to make you feel safe warring with his desire to find whoever made you afraid and teach them a lesson about fear.

Simon is a man of actions, not words, and he's never been a fan of "sorry" and instead prefers follow-through. Now, though, the word poured from his lips. Wrapping your arms around him in return, you forgave him wordlessly.

The next free time you both had, he'd surprise you by taking you to a shooting range. Another weekend, he'd teach you basic knife skills and how to throw a decent punch. If questioned, he'd say it was something he'd been meaning to do for a while with a dismissive shrug. But you had a hunch, even if he couldn't or wouldn't verbalize it, that he was sharing with you the ways he'd learned to overcome feeling powerless when he was younger. By learning to defend and fight back, you could take your agency back and walk into the world unafraid. It didn't matter that he'd grind anyone who bothered you into dust, because it was about you and making you feel empowered. Simon wasn't one to give you bouquets of flowers and poems, but he could give you this. And, slowly but surely, it started to work.

John "SOAP" Mactavish

You and Johnny were out with some mutual friends at the pub one night, drinking and having fun. Your boisterous Scotsman was ever the social butterfly, and he never failed to bring the party wherever he went.

You and a friend were laughing at something on your phone, and when you handed it Johnny to show him, you froze as your eyes saw an unmistakable silhouette over his shoulder. You recovered quickly, sure that it was a mistake, but not quickly enough. Johnny's face went serious as he studied your expression, which was suddenly tense.

You'd play it off, not wanting to ruin the good vibe. You'd even double check to reassure yourself that it wasn't him, but your stomach would sink once you looked back. In a corner of the bar, nursing a glass of dark liquor, was your ex. He noticed you at the same time, and the eye contact made you feel sick.

At this, Johnny would take a look for himself, and would pick out the man eyeing you from across the bar right away. After giving the man a once-over, he'd turn back to you.

"Is that who I think it is?" You'd nod. You had told him bits and pieces of how your ex treated you, but left out the worst of it lest Johnny go on a rampage to defend your honor. He's loyal to a fault and would not take kindly to anyone mistreating people he cared about.

The unfortunate thing was, being special forces came with an ability to read people and situations, and your reaction to seeing your ex filled in the gaps well enough for Johnny to understand what wasn't being said. You were scared, and the man seemed to know it by the smug expression he wore as he stared at you.

Rather than cause a scene, as you had feared, Johnny scooted so he completely blocked your view of the other man (and the man's view of you via his broad shoulders). Seamlessly, he'd continue the conversation with the folks around you as if nothing was amiss, despite his hand never leaving your thigh in a move that was at once possessive and reassuring. You leaned into the touch, comforted by Johnny's presence and relieved that the situation had seemingly blown over.

A bit later, Johnny announced he was going to the bar to get another round for the table. On instinct, your gaze shot to where your ex had been sitting, but his seat was now empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, your eyes turned to follow Johnny through the room. You could never get tired of looking at him. It wasn't until he reached the bar and clapped a fellow patron on the shoulder that you realized the individual he was talking to wasn't the bartender, but your ex who had moved seats. Keeping his hand on the man's shoulder, Johnny struck up a conversation like a true natural.

Oh no.

You braced for a commotion, but Johnny's expression and body language stayed friendly and open. You couldn't hear what he was saying to the man, and if asked he'd tell you he was just introducing himself. But when he let go of your ex's shoulder and flagged down the bartender to order a drink, the other man threw some money onto the bar and all but ran out the door.

The place would become a frequent haunt for your friend group, but you'd never see your ex darken the doorstep again after Johnny's talk with him. Good riddance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You and Kyle had been going steady for a bit now, and you were excited to introduce him to your family. Well, most of your family. You didn't have a good relationship with your stepdad, and Kyle respected that it was a sore spot for you. He would never pry, but he could pick up on how your tone would change when your stepdad would come up in conversation, how your posture would change when your mom dragged him into the frame to say hello during your video chats.

A big family dinner was the perfect opportunity to introduce everyone to Kyle, and you were looking forward to it. Truly. You had a nice outfit picked out and Kyle bought some fancy wine to bring, hoping for a good first impression. He needn't have worried; your aunts and cousins all fawned over him, and your uncles were endlessly impressed by his stories from his job. Long story short, he was a hit.

He stayed by you all night, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as he made conversation. At first, you chalked it up to being the new guy in the room, but the ease of his posture suggested he wasn't nervous. Rather, his frequent check-ins started to make it feel like his closeness was for your benefit. You were the one who was nervous, looking over your shoulder every few minutes praying you didn't see a certain face in the crowd. You loved your family, but get-togethers always came with a certain amount of anxiety. Every time your eyes strayed around the room, Kyle's followed, taking in the crowd. Even more frequently, you caught him sneaking glances at you, as if assessing if you were alright.

You were alright, until the front door opened and you heard a specific voice boom in greeting. Your mom and stepdad strode in, late as always, your mom carrying the casserole dish and your stepdad slapping a case of beer on the counter. Your demeanor changed immediately, shrinking yourself as if you could become invisible if you just hunched enough. It didn't work, of course, and they spotted you within seconds. Before you could react, Kyle was in front of you, placing himself between you and your parents with a smile and his hand out to shake.

"I'm Kyle, heard lots about you," he said neutrally, shaking hands with both of them. They turned to you, but Kyle spoke again. "How was the drive? Heard you had to come across that new expressway, have they finished that yet?"

It was like that the rest of the evening. Kyle remained an immovable barrier between you and your stepdad, keeping him engaged in conversation and unable to address you. You and your mom were able to slip away shortly to help set the table and catch up, and every time you snuck a glance at the men out of the corner of your eye, the view was the same: Kyle orienting himself as a physical wall, keeping you out of eyeshot. His body language was at-ease, his smile friendly enough, but his eyes were tight, not like they had been when talking with everyone else.

When everyone grabbed a seat, Kyle pulled a chair out for you before quickly stealing the spot next to you from your stepdad. You looked at him with gratitude and he squeezed your knee reassuringly under the table, all the while maintaining conversations with those around him as if nothing was amiss. If you hadn't already loved him, you certainly would have after that night.

Captain John Price

Ah, spring cleaning.

Well, it was November, but still. It's refreshing to get rid of old stuff and start anew, but it's also essential when you're combining two households. John had finally convinced you to move in with him, so the two of you were creating piles labeled "Keep" "Trash" and "Donate". Upon reaching the bottom of an old box labelled "Miscellaneous," you came upon something that had your stomach churning. Old records: Johnny Cash, the Sex Pistols, the Doors. You hadn't realized you had them, and you weren't particularly fond of who they belonged to.

You didn't realize you had frozen in place until John snapped you out of it, coming up behind you with a hand snaking around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Whatcha got, love?" He whistled when you showed him.

"The condition those are in, you could get a pretty penny. I didn't know you collected vinyl, I'd have bought a player."

"They're not... mine." You explained, as briefly as possible, that they were your ex's and must have gotten mixed up in your stuff when you split several years ago. He hummed in understanding.

"Right, then. To the garbage with it?"

It was the logical solution. He hadn't asked after them, so he must not miss them that badly. You would rather lie down in traffic than have any contact with him. But John's comment about their value stopped you from throwing them onto the "Trash" pile. Damn your too-kind heart, always causing problems.

It was easy enough to find your ex's contact info; you had changed your number after the split, he hadn't. Soon enough, you had agreed on a time for him to swing by and grab the stuff when he was free. The rest of moving made the days go by in a blur of organizing and unpacking and bickering over where the toaster should go and which wall to mount the TV on. That is, until you looked at your calendar and realized that it was today. This afternoon was the interaction you'd spent the week trying not to think about. You'd stepped around the box of his things all week, mentally blocking out why it was sitting in the front hall. You'd managed to stay busy, and bury your anxiety in the endless tasks that come with setting up a new home.

But time had run out, and in mere hours you were going to be face to face with someone you had once sworn never to see again. The realization made the room feel too small, made the air feel too warm, made you feel like you were suffocating. Suddenly you just had to get out.

"We need... yogurt." You blurted, walking too quickly and too loudly into the foyer to grab your keys.

"Yogurt? Right now?" John called from the kitchen.

"Yes, right now! For... for a recipe," you mustered, hoping you sounded convincing. This had been a mistake, a huge mistake, and your brain was screaming RUN! RUN! RUN! as loudly as it could. Hand on the doorknob, however, you froze. If you left, John would be here when your ex arrived. He'd answer the door, introduce himself, and hand off the items. Shouldn't that be ideal? No contact between you and him, simple and easy. But rather than provide relief, the thought made you sick to your stomach. It felt like a defiling almost, to think of him entering your new sanctuary and meeting the love you thought you'd never have. It felt wrong on every level, and your feet rooted to the spot in agreement.

"Still here, love?" John came into view, the book he'd been reading in hand, finger acting as a bookmark. "I was thinking, I could go if you wanted. Just text me what we need. Don't you have someone coming by?"

Yes - that's it, you thought. Have John go, get him away from here before he could arrive. You'd handle it on your own; you'd done it before.

Nodding, you stepped aside, slipping your shoes off next to the door. John put his book down and approached, taking your place and grabbing his keys off the hook. He turned to kiss your forehead, but stopped short and stared at you. He noticed for the first time that you were fidgety, as if anxious for him to leave when usually it was the exact opposite. His ever-observant eyes spent several seconds taking you in, and you knew as he asked the question that he already knew the answer.

"Everything alright?"

Of course it was! How silly to think otherwise! You began playing it off, the same way you had gotten so good at doing back when you and he were still together and your friends would ask you the same thing. Just hyper, just busy, just this, just that, always an excuse to avoid saying "I'm afraid." Afraid of what mood he'd be in, afraid of what awaited you when you two would be alone later. Fear you hadn't felt in a long time, but could feel now just as bone-deep as it had been back then. As if your body had stored it as muscle memory just in case this day came.

"Are you nervous about something?" It was another question you could tell he already knew the answer to, and you wanted to feel irked about it, but looking into those eyes you suddenly just felt tired. Tired of carrying the fear and the uncertainty alone. So you exhaled for a long time, and slowly told him exactly what you were nervous about.

It felt good to get it off your chest. Until now, no one had ever known the extent of what had gone on. You expected John to explode into some fit of hyper-masculine protectiveness like guys on TV, but he didn't. He listened to you talk, and then he nodded and sat on the couch, reopening his book on his lap.

"What are you doing?" You eyed him suspiciously, unable to believe that that was the end of the conversation.

"Well, I'm waiting right here. And when this lad knocks, I'm going to answer the door and have a little chat with him."

#who would have thought I'd get wordy writing about Price #it's my older man kink #can you tell the writer juices flowed as I kept writing #mwii headcannons #task force 141 #141 headcanons #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #no use of y/n #ghost mwii #soap mwii #gaz mwii #price mwii

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wonderlandwalker · 4 months

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Frozen Solid | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Your past is haunting you, but Finnick is there to remind you it's going to be okay

Content Warnings/Tags: Nightmares, trauma, ANGST, character death, happy ending though dw, hypothermia, mentions of violence

Word Count: 2.6k

Requested by Anon: Do you think you could do something fluffy with Finnick Odair x Víctor! Reader where the readers games were in the extreme cold and they say something like “I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again” to Finnick

A/N: Please send me more requests! I am dying to keep writing but I don't have any more ideas. Also my spell check keeps telling me it's 'realized' not 'realised' and now I'm doubting my entire knowledge of the English language. Did not read this after writing it so praying my brain worked properly

To say the games left you with issues would be an understatement. But this particular memory always seemed to keep haunting you. Maybe that was because this had happened before you taught yourself to close yourself off from your problems. Maybe it was because you hadn't figured out how to find closure yet.

Maybe it was because you were still afraid. Afraid of the tribute towering over you. Even though you weren't a kid that hadn't hit your grow spurt anymore. Even though you weren't that defenseless, innocent child anymore. The tribute was still bigger, and simply the memories made you feel powerless.

The familiar trees surrounded you, but they didn't make you feel safe like they used to before. A layer of snow covered the leaves like a warm blanket, except it was anything but. You were shivering, trembling, not sure which one. So you ran, your fight or flight instincts trying to contradict the memory

So you ran from the man who had said he would help you. You ran from your problem. You ran from your fear.

But it didn't work, it never did. You ran out of the forest, but before you even realized, you were right back inside. Every time you ran you just got stuck again. But they were all different spots. All the ones where you had camped for the night, all the places where you sat silently, too scared to light a fire to warm yourself, not willing to take the risk of eating any food that needed cooking. They all made their way into your imagination, but they all had one thing in common, they made you feel afraid. For most, you thought, childhood memories should resemble a sense of ease, of making you feel secure.

But that feeling had disappeared for you when you first entered the arena. You could still see it in front of you as if it was a crystal clear picture. Your platform had come to a stop, and at first, you were blinded by the light, the bright sun. Your mind had tricked you into thinking the sun meant warmth, and comfort. But when your eyes adjusted, and you saw the frozen lake you were placed over. You saw the cornucopia, on a frosted island in the middle. It had weapons and food, but most importantly, it had thick coats and fur blankets. You wonder sometimes if you should have gotten one, if it would have helped you, but the risk was too great, so once you heard the canon, you immediately ran in the opposite direction, for the forest behind you.

The first thing you did was look for a freshwater source, but everything, everything, was frozen. When you had become desperate, you had started to punch a hole into the thick ice. It took a long time before you broke through the surface, your hands weren't strong enough, but you didn't give up. There was a small crack, and it gave you hope to continue. When you had managed to get to the water, your knuckles were bleeding, and you could see bruises starting to form. But it didn't matter. You had done it. You cupped your hands into the water and felt the cold come over them once again. It was soothing, in a way. Your hands had become warm from the strain, but it was the first time you had felt any sense of warmth since you entered, so you were disappointed to lose it.

You brought the water to your lips, and took a sip from it. You could feel it course through your body, and while it satisfied your thirst, it felt as if there was ice inside your veins. You had been cold up to now, but it was nothing compared to this. You could feel your insides losing temperature from the icy water.

You saw him walking your way, and even if you tried to forget, you could see his face in so many details. From his freckles that you had always admired to the dark look that filled his eyes as he came closer

You knew there was no use in running, but you still did, not wanting to confront him, having avoided doing so for as long as you can now remember. But all it did was pull you back into the forest.

He came from the same district as you, he had said you reminded him of his little sister, and he had offered a pact. You still weren't sure why, you didn't have much to offer him. But now you guess it must have been his own memories, his own innocence wanting to help the girl that you made him think of, made him think there was still good left in him. And so you accepted, and in a way, you were grateful, because you never would have won without him, but the turmoil that stuck with you was heartbreaking. Maybe it would have been easier if it had all been over then.

He was still walking towards you, and even though he wasn't saying a word, you could tell what was going on inside his head. You could see it by the way he walked, how his arms stayed tightly next to his body. You could even hear him yelling at you in your head.

You walked backwards until you hit one of the trees. You started calling out for help, even though you were fully aware no one would come. There was no one else left. You screamed, asking for someone to help you, and the fear made your voice shiver. You knew it was the fear this time. Your body had stopped shaking from the cold after a few days. You had thought that was it, your body had given up, the cold finally having overpowered it.

You stood up, scrambling to your feet. For once, you felt warm again, you felt the blood dilating your vessels, but you knew better than to get hope. You have seen this. You had seen this in other tributes. Your body making a last attempt to warm you up, giving you a boost of power right before it would all be over. In a way you were grateful, it would finally be over. You didn't even want to win anymore, you just wanted to be warm.

But your instincts still told you to run, and with the extra energy coursing through you, you did.

You ran to the frozen lake, to where it had all begun, it was the only thing you could think of to go to. You ran, you ran until could no longer even feel your legs moving. He followed behind you, of course he did. He was close behind, but you were smaller, you were leaner, and you might not have as much stamina, but when it came to a fast sprint you could only just outrun him. You didn't even watch where you were going anymore. The more you ran, the colder you started to feel again. You wanted to stop, to not lose any more. To keep this little bit you had been given, but you weren't sure it would even stay if you did.

The trees started to disappear, and before you knew it, you were on the lake. When you had first gotten here, the lake had seemed peaceful, tranquil. But now, it was nothing short of a battlefield. The bodies might have been taken away, but the blood still stained the ice, and the axes and spears still stuck out of it like weeds disturbing the carefully crafted landscape.

You ran as far as your fleeting body could carry you. You felt it before you saw it. Ice freezing cold. This was it, this was the end. It wasn't a haven to be at peace, it was even colder than you had been. Your clothes were clinging to your body like the blankets of snow you had first noticed. Your hair was stuck to your forehead and your neck.

You remember in the beginning, when you would run, and you would sweat. It was the first time you had carefully appreciated it in your life, the warm droplets gracing your skin. But not anymore, if your body even had the energy to sweat, it was cold, it stuck to you like the first rain of autumn. The brisk wind in combination only making you shiver more.

So you opened your eyes, if this was the end you had hoped for, you didn't want it anymore. You opened your eyes and focused on your senses. You saw the lake, but it had risen. You had fallen in it. You looked around you and saw the cracks in the frozen surface.

The fights, the violence, it hadn't just taken a toll on you. The ice was suffering just as much. It was hard to see from the snow that covered it, but from where you were, you could see it from the footsteps that had disturbed it. You looked behind you, and you saw him again. He had seen you fall in, and halted. You could see relief come over him. Relief that he wouldn't be the one to have to kill you, that the water would do it for him. You almost felt bad for him, he hadn't wanted any of this either. And if you had been in his situation, you weren't sure you wouldn't have done the same thing.

But the water was your friend, at least it used to be.

In your district, you grew up surrounded by it. Going to the sea in the summer, swimming until the sun went down. You remember you used to get so cold when it disappeared and you were left on the beach alone. But now you longed for it.

So you swam, you swam until you felt your hands meet the solid surface of ice again. You had been light before you came here, the lack of food taking a toll on everyone you know, but it was worse now. The only thing you knew how to get was fish. You knew how to fish, but anything else you had counted on was not there. There were no berries on trees, there were no plants that could survive in this environment. And so your frame had become even slimmer. Your arms were trembling as you tried to lift yourself. You weren't sure if you would manage. This couldn't be the end. If it ended like this, your body would float away in the water like the ice that was floating on it, and you would always be cold.

With a surge of motivation, you lifted yourself onto the surface and as soon as you did you fell down on your back. You looked up, thinking you had done it, you could rest now. You looked up at the sky, the sun was there, but you didn't trust it anymore.

You heard something else move, and it made your head snap up. He was still there.

He considered his steps, he couldn't reach you from where he was. But it was just the two of you, and something had to give. So he walked around the hole you had fallen into. He traced around it. He stood in the footsteps that had already been placed in the snow.

But you didn't care anymore. You had gotten yourself out of the water, and you laid your head back down, looking back at the sun. Trying to recall the memories it held. But you couldn't feel it anymore, you couldn't feel the radiating heat. So you made peace with being cold, at least it would be over soon.

If he had left you be, your body probably would have given up before his did. But he wanted it to be over too, he didn't want to wait any longer. He took another step, and you could hear the crack that echoed through the empty space. You looked at him, and you saw him realising his mistake as it happened. The footsteps had looked like a path, but really, they were weak spots. The steps had caused the ice strain, and it had decided it had had enough.

The cracking sound continued, until you could see the ice start to get lopsided. It started to slide towards the open water you had fallen into. You could see his eyes plead, he had convinced himself he had already won, and he was watching all his hopes disappear with one shift of snow. He fell in the water, but he wasn't friends with it. He trashed and tried to move forward, but his body was too broad, and all it did was exhaust him further. You wanted to reach out for him, to help him. You knew the cold that engulfed the water and you didn't want him to die that way. But all it would do was drag you in with him, and you found yourself watching. You watched him as his head sank under, you kept watching as if he'd come back out. You watched until you heard the last canon.

It made you feel even colder. You thought it was over. But you could feel your heart stop, it didn't stop beating, it stopped giving you warmth. The last piece you had, had sunken down with him. Your head was filled with panic. You would never feel warm again, you don't think your body knew how to anymore, and your mind was too frozen over to even try. And just as you felt your heart slow down, just as you thought you would die in this permanent state of despair, you heard a voice calling out to you

It sounded familiar, but you couldn't place it. It felt like a star calling to you, telling you to follow it into the sky, to fly, to be free, free of this fear.

It told you to wake up.

Before you knew it the smell of pine left you, being replaced with a mix of sea salt and jasmine, it smelt like home

You felt someone shaking you lightly, and you realised the smell wasn't bound to your surroundings, but the person that was next to you.

"Sweetheart, you need to wake up, you keep shaking." He told you in a sleepy, but still gentle voice.

As you started to get a better concept of your environment, you realised that in your distraught state, you had woken him up.

"I didn't mean to wake you I'm sorry, I know you haven't been sleeping well lately." You said, guilt already entering your mind.

"Hey, look at me, don't you dare apologise" He looked at you as if your worry pained him, and you couldn't stop the next words from leaving you.

"I'm scared I'll never be warm again Finnick" You started to cry, and he took you into his arms.

"If you're having nightmares, I will stay up with you until the sun rises again." He smiled down at you. And that's when you realized, he wasn't a star in the sky, he was the sun, he was your sun. His smile warmed you, and his arms around you made you believe again. He was your sun, and as long as you had him, he would warm you.

#finnick odair fic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #finnick angst #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #finnick fluff #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #angst #fluff

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transmutationisms · 1 year

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wanted to ask what your thoughts are about the show’s subtextual implications of csa? its never mentioned really but it kind of just hangs in the air with the other abuse and the cultural of sexual violence and abuse of everyone and everything else. i personally don’t believe logan even abused any of them that way, but obviously with people like mo and that whole group of men at the funeral, it was still something the kid’s grew up around and were vulnerable to, and i think because of that logan Did perpetuate csa against them, in a way. like even if He never touched them, by putting them in such close proximity to predators and he himself being complicit in a culture of sexual violence both in his personal life and his company, he still betrayed their trust that he would protect them from that.

but idk, do you think there’s a possibility any of them were actually victims of an assault or harassment?

this is kind of a huge topic, but: i think what the show is getting at wrt sexual violence and childhood trauma is the idea that growing up in a context that enables and even encourages rape is itself sexually traumatic, and that type of immersion in systemic violence has a profound impact on the psyche with or without specific or discrete instances of direct interpersonal violence. which is to say, yes, i agree that there is a very real way in which all of logan's children have experienced sexual violence simply by virtue of being part of his company and his family (part of the capitalist structure).

i do agree that the presence of the 'wolf pack' is significant (the kids weren't allowed to get in the pool around them, etc), but even beyond that, i think the show is suggesting that it would be impossible to grow up in an environment where 1) sex is equivalent to violence, and 2) business is expressed through this language, and 3) familial love is secondary to the business concerns and so also expressed through this violent language—and not be traumatised by that. capitalism is itself already traumatic, homophobia and transmisogyny / transphobia are traumatic, and logan's rigid hierarchical ideas of masculinity and strength are elevated expressions of these systems.

anybody in waystar's orbit will have a relationship to sexual violence and trauma—and a child, who lacks legal personhood and bodily autonomy, is quite clearly going to experience this entire upbringing as violent and traumatic. like, even if logan's childrearing was 'successful' on his terms, ie produced an heir capable of the kind of emotional repression and capacity to inflict violence that logan valorises, that would still itself be a traumatic outcome for that person. the ideology governing waystar is alienating and intrinsically violent. how could you grow up in a world where the powerless are denied personhood and subject to rape and murder and not have that shape how you—again, a child denied autonomy and power—relate to your body, your sexuality, and your concept of self?

so, as to whether the kids did experience specific and direct events of child sexual assault, rape, etc—i honestly just find this line of questioning uninteresting because it's speculation. i've already said i don't find the 'explicit' csa reading necessary in understanding roman's character, and that the incestuous sub/text with him is there on purpose not to indicate that the roys are uniquely incestuous but to suggest that capitalist family structures inherently create this type of desire and propensity for abuse. i would extend basically analogous arguments to the other roy kids, and indeed, to any character on the show. all of the roy kids are sexually traumatised and this is explicitly because they grew up in a company (which is to say also a family and an economic system) that is violent, specifically sexually and specifically to those designated weaker and lesser-than.

#he doesn't even trust water

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

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an observation

YOU KNOW WHAT 😭 Rollo’s even more neurotic than I initially thought he was, and now I’m realizing it may be a coping mechanism for his trauma… If you think about, there’s a clear pattern in his behaviors: they all amount to maintaining a strict and methodical routine:

Keeping things clean, to the point where he rises before sunlight every day and climbs up the stairs to clean and ring the Bell of Salvation. This must be something he has been doing for a LONG time, which is how he got those very noticeable dark circles under his eyes.

On the subject of keeping things clean, there is an instance of Rollo letting his facade slip and getting mad when a goat (an animal, which he considers unhygienic) comes close to him and tries chewing on his robes. This indicates (at least to me) that he can react negatively when his ideas of cleanliness are not adhered to. The outbursts are not always loud or violent; other instances of disgust are indicated by him holding his handkerchief over his nose.

Rollo specifically cites that he likes the Bell of Salvation and wishes that more things were like it. It rings when it should and it is silent when it should be, and “nothing is […] more appropriate and certain.”

Eats the exact same lunch 24/7, 365 days of the year (2 croissants, 16 grapes, and 1 cafe au lait). I presume he must have similar restricted menus for his other meals as well.

Rollo extols the virtues of a strict routine, which helps him abstain from “unnecessary desires” and recommends that others do the same.

Buys the same plain white paper and envelope set all the time, even when the vendor offers him a better deal.

Man absolutely LOSES IT when a goat tries to eat his stationary; this implies that he may have struggles coping with changes to what he is normally used to, or just general disruptions to his routine.

He seems bothered by the idea of abandoning a task he has set his mind to, even if the task annoys him (like tending to all the gargoyles).

Rollo is very strict in general about keeping to a schedule.

This one is more open to interpretation, but he chooses to communicate via letters instead of via social media or e-mail, even though he clearly lives in a time period where he could easily access electronics. This implies to me a fixation on the past and older ways of doing things rather than adapting to what’s new and modern (though Rollo also says this is a method to avoid careless wording).

He openly states he likes to keep things orderly and consistent.

Routines are familiar. Routines are safe. There is a comfort to be found in that sense of sameness. Maybe Rollo feels content retreating to order because it’s preferable to leaving himself vulnerable to chance, to the wiles of the world that may have no mercy on him just like it had no mercy for his brother… Something he couldn’t predict or plan for, something he was totally powerless to stop… 😭 But meanwhile, there’s a certainty in the ability to control his activities, a comfort to relying on the same events to play out every day…

Those are just some musings I had! 🤡 I’ve been stewing in the new Rollo content and obsessively reviewing it the last several hours, squeezing what juices I can from it…

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamme #notes from the writing raven #spoilers

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sugar-grigri · 6 months

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If Fumiko is monstrous then Fujimoto should start presenting her as such

Fumiko is written to remind us that Denji is a child, and I repeat, she is the symbol of a child's sexual trauma in all its horror and "paradoxes".

Touching Denji without his consent, catching an adolescent who hasn't yet discovered himself off guard, is the most obvious way of proving the link between the theme of sexual assault and Fumiko, but it doesn't stop there.

The fact that Denji accepts only proves this point: it shows just how much he's someone who needs boundaries and protection. He passively listens to what he's told without question simply because Fumiko has the upper hand.

She has one, but spends her time pretending she doesn't, in particular by disguising her age like a predator, calling him "senpai" when she's 22, and playing up her protective role as a "bodyguard" when she's only there to stop Denji thinking for himself

As can be seen in the dialogue between Miri and Denji, she positions herself as an interlocutor, standing in Denji's shadow, influencing his decisions and distracting the boy from the substance of Miri's message.

But she's a complete paradox, still trying to make Denji believe she's protecting him, she refers to Chainsaw Man as a "child", which rather than demonstrating a good intention shows that she's well aware of what Denji is and that she's abusing him head-on.

Who protects a child by attacking him?

Once again, I insist, these are two pages from the same chapter. Dare you tell me that Fumiko doesn't present any contradictions?

Above all, she makes it seem as if she only wants what's best for Denji, even when he hasn't responded to her pleas for help. Once again, there's a paradox: the predator blames her victim for not having seen her own vulnerability, whereas she’s only abusing those of her victim.

Fumiko is a metaphor for the very dangerousness of sexual assault, gentle on the surface but insidious, its violence only made clear and felt after the event, rising like a tide.

When Yoshida convinces Denji to give up his normal life, he leaves him in the hands of Fumiko, a public hunter, who symbolises the extent to which, despite the monster in front of them, danger also exists among men, and that the milieu of public hunters is a harmful world for a child.

I think the reason Fujimoto doesn't immediately place Fumiko in a position of condemnation is to instil a feeling of frustration and powerlessness at seeing Denji unprotected, to make it clear that "he's missing something", a parental figure.

But I think that for the writing to be complete, the author has to take a clear stance on the subject, in his own way of course, but explicitly

Seeing Fumiko next to Denji makes me anxious, it's such a common form of violence that it pulls me out of my reading.

Fumiko is a monster, so I pray that Fujimoto will have fun explicitly detailing her dark side and her horror.

If he doesn't, then she'll remain an unfinished and confusing chimera, the result of lazy writing and a fear of commitment.

#csm 136 #csm 137 #csm 139 #csm 142 #chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #denji #fumiko #fumiko mifune #my thoughts #But I'm a realist I can also see the flaws in an author I love Fujimoto likes the dissident and morally controversial aspect of his work #Even when the violence is correctly presented there will be no narrator to condemn it Fujimoto doesn't risk accentuating Fumiko's horror #but just making it more present more controversial Just to disturb his readers who sometimes have no real use for the script.#Maybe I'm being too hopeful and justifying the shortcomings of Fumiko's writing to reassure myself #It's possible she's the black spot in part 2 #In a jump shonen you can't present a 22-year-old girl touching a teenager as a joke.#I'm in favour of creative freedom but I'm also in favour of authors being aware of their audience.

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bloodynereid · 3 months

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hello!! (2nd request of the day let’s goo). i was wondering if you could do something with a gn reader and either jordan, rooster, phoenix, or hangman?? it’s completely up to you. reader comes from a rough household with like a lot of yelling and swearing and door slamming (from parents and younger siblings) and at one point ____ (insert character here) yells and they kinda just freak out and cry or something because it reminds them of home?? and lots of comfort after?? - 🧚🏻

Sorrys & I Love Yous

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x gn! reader

tw: bradley is sort of an asshole in this im sorry but it fit with the fic, screaming, crying, trauma response

description: memories and feelings of your past resurface after an incident regarding dinner.

a/n: hii🧚🏻anon! sorry that it took me so long to write this and also sorry that this is so short i'm trying to get back into writing! also i hope it was ok that i chose rooster, he just made the most sense (i was thinking of the jake and bradley fight in the briefing room) and this is good ?? idk i think im having imposter syndrome with my writing haha. also as someone who has had this sort of thing happen to them i hope i wrote this okay, it's based off my own experience but who knows.

It had been a good day at work. You had been able to finish a piece your editor had been nagging you about and you were actually happy with the final product. It seemed like it was the opposite for Bradley though.

You arrived back to your shared house on the coast later than usual, you had stayed back to chat with some of your colleagues about the new issue of the magazine and time ran away from you. You had parked your car next to Bradley’s bronco and felt a surge of happiness at seeing the familiar blue vehicle.

“Hi honey!” You called out into the lit house after dropping your keys on the little dish beside the door.

“Hey.” Bradley called back to you from the living room, where the familiar sounds of a football game blared out.

You smiled and kicked off your shoes before ambling over to the couch and giving Bradley a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

“How was work?” You asked as you sat down next to your boyfriend.

“Shitty.”

“Jake being an asshole again?”

“Hmm.” He hums back in assent and you nod in understanding before getting up and walking over to the kitchen. Usually the first person who comes home makes some kind of dinner but as you stare at the empty counters and unlit stove a pang rang through your heart.

“Bradley, honey, did you make dinner?”

“What?” You cringed slightly and turned to look over your shoulder to your distracted boyfriend.

“Did you make dinner?” You repeated.

“No.”

“Uh, is it okay if I just order something?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Right.”

You went to grab your phone from your discarded bag and started to scroll through the usual restaurants.

“Bradley, honey, what do you want to eat?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want to eat?” You repeated in a slightly annoyed tone, he wasn’t acting like himself and it was getting on your nerves.

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?” You asked incredulously as the man finally met your eyes and a twist of his mouth made a shudder run down the length of your back. It reminded you of your father right before he started yelling in your face.

“Why the hell are you on my case? You’re the one who’s fucking late, what the hell were you doing anyways?!” Bradley yelled out, his voice escalating as his fist clenched around the beer bottle. After a few tense moments it was like your brain went on autopilot.

Your nerves seized up, your vision went white and a whimper escaped your throat. You felt rivers of water start to fall from your eyes and you felt completely and utterly powerless.

When Bradley realized what he just did he quickly let go of the beer bottle and moved to scoop you up in his arms but you still weren’t totally there. Your body seized up and you were suddenly running away from him and into the downstairs bathroom.

The loud bang of the door hitting the frame echoed through the house as you turned the lock and slipped down until your legs were against the cool tile.

Shivers racked your body and sobs fought their way out of your throat and lungs.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” You muttered out loud in between sobs.

“Honey? Y/N?” Bradley’s now soft voice, the one you were used to, bled through the wood. “Are you okay?” At that a loud sob escaped from your gasping lips.

“Please open the door. I- I’m really sorry. I, fuck, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s my fault, I should have made dinner and instead I screamed at you when you didn’t do anything wrong… sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” You whispered out.

“Oh there you are. Can you please open the door?”

Taking a deep breath in, you carefully pushed yourself up from the floor and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Swiping your hands against your cheeks you let out another sob before turning around and turning the lock before opening the door.

You were met with the sight of Bradley who had a bereft look on his face. He looked like a puppy who had just been left behind for the first time.

“Oh sweetheart.” He gathered you up into his arms and you encircled yours around his body, clutching him tight.

“What you did was wrong.” You muttered into his shirt as tears continued to run down your face. “You hurt me Bradley.”

“I know and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve that and you’re free to break up with me if you want. I was being a total asshole.” A teary laugh left your throat and you broke your embrace to look at his face.

“I’m not breaking up with you, you idiot! But I do agree with you being an asshole.”

“I deserve that.” You snorted before Bradley leaned over and placed a peck on your forehead.

“I’m really fucking sorry.” He said again and you nodded.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

this was only re-read like 2 times so sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes <3

#bradley bradshaw #maria's random stuff #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster x you #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm #top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #bradley x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader

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onceuponastory · 7 months

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i've got you - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky has another nightmare. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, Bucky's past trauma and how he blames and hates himself for what he did, basically everything that he did as The Winter Soldier and had done to him by HYDRA is a warning in this, but specifically the mind wiping, murder/death and shooting. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is my piece for @flufftober Day 1: "I've Got You." I saw this quote and just knew it fit Bucky x Reader so well. Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Late one night, Y/N and Bucky are fast asleep in their Brooklyn apartment. Everything is still and quiet. Until Bucky starts to murmur in his sleep, tossing and turning as he starts to dream. Memories from the last seventy decades flash through his mind. The train, being found by HYDRA, his arm being replaced…. “No.” He whispers. “Stop.” But the memories continue. And now, he's seeing his time as the Winter Soldier. This time, Bucky is powerless. He can only watch on, unable to intervene.

The Winter Soldier’s standing in front of someone, another faceless victim, watching as they beg for their life. He's lost count of the lives he destroyed and the people he killed. This is just one of many. Ever since he escaped HYDRA’s control, Bucky’s been trying hard to make amends and forget what happened to him.

But unfortunately for him, his mind has other ideas.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” The person begs. But the soldier doesn’t listen, and raises his gun. “No! Please!” Their voice is more panicked now, begging and screaming for him to stop. Bucky can feel himself reaching out, as if he’s trying to stop himself from making the same mistakes he did. Yet no matter how hard he tries, Bucky can’t stop himself… and the Winter Soldier pulls the trigger.

Bucky gasps, jolting awake. The room is silent… aside from the pounding in his chest. He grips the bedsheet for dear life, so tightly his knuckles turn white. Sweat drips from his forehead, and a few strands of his hair cling to it. He’s a monster, regardless of how much he tries to change. That’s what his dream was trying to tell him. He still hears the screams of the innocent people he killed. Even now, when he’s awake. And he can see the face of Alexander Pierce, looming down at him before he gets wiped again. Bucky’s body tenses, and he shuts his eyes tightly, trying to block everything out.

He’s ready to deal with this alone. Like he always does. Like he was trained to do. In a way, it’s for his own self protection. This way, nobody else can see how fucked up he is.

But then, there’s a different voice speaking into the darkness.

“Bucky?” Y/N moans, rubbing her eyes as she wakes up. The sudden sound of her voice almost makes Bucky jump. “What’s going on?” She moves her hand over to Bucky’s side of the bed, feeling nothing but empty space. When she sees him sitting there, gripping the sheet, her eyes widen with concern, and her voice softens as she realises what’s happened. “Oh.” She scoots over to him, gently wrapping her arm across his trembling body and pulling him closer to her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, I’m here. It was just a nightmare.” She soothes, her voice full of comfort and compassion.

The first night Bucky woke up screaming, haunted by memories of his past, his body aching with the decades of pain and torture HYDRA inflicted on him, Y/N was shocked. But more than anything, Y/N felt horrible for Bucky - that someone had put him through something so traumatic and that he was so haunted by it. But it also made a horrible pit of guilt form deep inside her. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t take all this pain away from him, or even reverse the clock and stop everything that HYDRA did to him. Being unable to stop his pain is the worst feeling in the world. So instead, she does the next best thing. She makes sure that Bucky knows she’s there for him whenever he needs her. Even if he’s on a mission and in a completely different time zone and needs to call her, she’ll always pick up no matter what. Her love for Bucky is unwavering, and she’ll always be there for him.

Especially tonight. “It was… it was….” Bucky speaks, close to hyperventilating. “Shh…shh…. It’s okay.” Y/N tells him reassuringly, tenderly kissing his temple. “You don’t have to tell me anything.” Bucky grabs her hand, squeezing onto it for dear life. Like she’s his rock, stopping him from being swept out into sea. In a way, she is. Or at least, she's the one stopping him from falling deeper into a pit of despair and self loathing. “Just take deep breaths with me, okay Bucky? In and out, match my breathing.” Bucky does as she says, keeping a tight grasp on her hand as he does.

And soon, he slowly starts to feel a little better. “You should go back to sleep. I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I woke you up again.” Y/N shakes her head, kissing his temple once more.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She tells him. “I told you, I’m here for you. I’ve got you.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers, and her heart breaks right there. Of course, she could never truly know what it’s like to go through something like Bucky did, and how much guilt and pain he must be feeling right now. “I deserve to go through this alone. I’m a monster.” His voice cracks.

But Y/N just wants him to stop punishing himself for things that weren’t his fault, and understand that he’s a victim too. “No you’re not a monster. You never were. It’s not your fault.” She whispers. “You’re a good person, Bucky.” Another kiss, this time to his cheek. “You never have to be alone again. I’m right here.”

“Thank you for sticking by me. For making me feel like more than I am.” He manages a small smile at that, a welcome relief to Y/N. “I love you… so damn much.”

“Of course I would. I’ll always be here for you, Bucky.” She smiles. “I love you too.”

They sit together for a while, with Bucky still in Y/N’s comforting embrace. He feels so safe and happy when he’s around her, and he’s so grateful that the universe sent her to him. She’s his one good thing after everything that happened to him, and all the pain he’s caused. He glances over at her, watching as she rubs his back.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he doesn’t have to do this alone anymore. He leans over, cupping her cheeks and kissing her softly. Bucky knows he has a long way to go with his healing, but Y/N’s support motivates him to be better, to be the man she deserves. With a smile, she gives his hand another squeeze. “We’re in this together.” She whispers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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loveyourlovelysoul · 1 year

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What may have happened during our childhood that made us develop a trauma?

We may have felt the need to keep an eye on our caregivers' beahviour, to judge them and their mood so to find ways to feel safe, and this transformed into an ability to be very sensitive about people's emotions, to the point of being an empath too. We grew up being caring towards others, validating them often, listening to them and trying to protect them from what we've been experiencing first hand.

We may have had to live in survival for long and that messed up a little with our memory: it can still affect us nowadays. We may have problems in expressing ourselves and/or learning/remembering stuff (sometimes our memories can get a little twisted from reality because of this shock too).

We may have been punished or yelled at for small mistakes when we were little and now tend to overreact even to little things. We may be seeking for perfectionism. We may also try to always explain us constantly in fear of being misunderstood or to "save" ourselves from easy and wrong judgement, even when it's not really the case.

We may have been grown up with parents/caregivers carrying anger and/or control issues, and still be triggered/scared when dealing with conflicts or someone's anger. We may be trying to keep a quiet and warm environment, even at the cost of taking the blame for something we haven't done or surrendering even if we know we're right (some though may need to actually go full force in and take over the other person so to change what has been).

We may have problems being vulnerable, having low self confidence cause of past gaslighting. We feel lonely, lacking trust in others, and having an hard time forming good relationships with others: we easily feel exhausted, judged, and unable to be vulnerable, fearing to scare everyone away and ending up alone once again after having lived an illusion (which would break us even more).

We may be trying to relive our trauma both in order to understand + heal and to feel safe (we are in a "known" place, where the unknown can't happen). It can also happen unconsciously through nightmares and sleep paralysis: these may tell us to keep an eye on what's going on on the outside and at the same time trigger our feelings of unsafety, powerlessness and vulnerability (and other fears too).

We need to try to remind ourselves that is okay to feel these emotions. But that now we're safe and know what is all about, we need to take care of us, even through the help of a therapist/professional. Let's just be kind and forgiving with ourselves for not knowing back then while we're healing, learning and working on us.

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unbidden-yidden · 7 months

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So some advice for folks who are trying to deal with the photos and videos they've seen online from this situation, from someone who routinely has to look at photos and videos of domestic violence and its aftermath in my line of work:

Accept that terrible things happen in the world. That sounds weird, right? But I found that, at least for me, the explosive indignation that this could've happened at all and like, fighting back against the reality and how much I didn't want to believe that something like this could happen - that just caused me to take on secondhand trauma. You cannot change horrors that have already happened.

Let me repeat that: You cannot change horrors that have already happened.

None of us can go back in time and undo the traumatic event. It's done. It happened. I once had a client whose abuser ran over her legs with his truck trying to kill her. I saw her wounds up close and personal. I still remember the smell of the wounds and how there was still a faint but nauseating scent of rubber. Nothing I could do could turn back the hands of time to before that nightmarish event.

But here's the thing - you can decide what you are going to do about it moving forward.

Sometimes you're in a realistic position to help. Sometimes you're not. But asking yourself the question, hey what practical good can I do in this situation? How can I help here? Is a million times more productive and comforting than wallowing in rage. The key is that finding a useful way to help or even just asking the question restores a sense of agency to you in a moment when you feel powerless against the deep cruelties of this world. And it often also empowers the victim(s) knowing that there are good, motivated people who are there to support and advocate for them.

Some of this shit is going to haunt you no matter what you do. Cutting through the haze of rage to take stock of the reality on the ground and what you can do to improve it is easier said than done. But if you try, it will help you and the people directly affected.

Accept that we currently live in a world of horrors, and then resolve to do what you can about it. And when you've done what you can? Accept that the rest is out of your hands now and that now the rest of it is in G-d's hands.

לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמֹר, וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לִבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה.

Rabbi Tarfon used to say: It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it.

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tocomplainfriend · 4 months

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Funny thing (not really) I’ve noticed is that Viv has always fetishized m/m relationships. There’s obviously Stolitz, but it goes back way further. There’s Addison from Zoophobia being shipped with a guy who works at his high school, but to mention that Viv has drawn NSFW of them despite Addison canonically being a minor. There’s also Autumn and Rusty, the former whom gets bullied by Rusty cause Rusty is secretly in the closet. Ten years later and she’s still weird about m/m relationships.

TW: fetishizing Queerness

I tried to search a little for Addison's age. In the wiki, that I know Viv did not write it says he is 18, other post say 17- there are people saying the age got changed too? I know almost nothing to zoophobia- if anyone knows about this claim, share your knowledge and importantly evidence of the age thing in specific? I do know about those snake drawings. And also was Viv 19? Have no clue-so I'm not gonna super talk about it without knowledge.

About the Rusty thing, I don't think Viv is a good enough writer (of relationships especially, cause Stolitz mainly) to pull that relationship or story. I don't think she can pull the idea of the closeted bully, purely by the fact that she doesn't understand or acknowledge the problems Stolitz has. If she needs to put down characters to make Stolas seems better and try to justify the power imbalance. I don't think she could write this if she wanted to. This closeted gay bully is such an old trope, too. I think the worst you can do (also as a non-amazing writer) is actually tried to make a romance out of it? Cause a lot of these tropes are more like "HAHA THE BULLY IS GAY HAHAHA", rather than "aww the bully was just sad and gay all along". I don't like it. (also this includes when the bully doesn't bully his romantic interest)

youtube

A lot of problems in mlm stuff Vivziepop does is similar to those Yaoi fetishization shit. Where there are also power imbalance. Also, this treatment of the characters like Moxxie? Like he is bi, and with Millie- and his treatment is so shitty. The hole thing of MILLIE PEGS MOXXIE, and that funny cause is less manly of him? Or where the succubus sexually assault them and that is funny??? (that one is not even Blitz being an asshole to him, it's made to act funny). As soon there is something viewed as feminine from him, the show makes fun of him. His feminine appearance in Unhappy campers also leads to make fun of him. Where he is the most vulnerable and insecure is that episode. He is more objectified in a feminine appearance.

Just the entirety of Stolitz is literally a lot of yaoi-sh problems. Also, I do see a lot of red flags in how they wrote Fizz and Asmo'. Because Fizz was insecure af, that he needed the approval of Mammon as an imp. Mammon was using the power that he had over Fizz to use him to get money. He got his approval from Asmo another sin in a higher position of power. (The power imbalance is not the problem vibes). Plus, The Big dominant protector and the sub small uwu cure relationship. Fizz, compared to the first time he appeared, he is so vulnerable and acts so cutesy. Like, the confidence he had during the S1, disappeared so bad. Acting so nice to Glitz and Glam, felt like cutting out all attitude to "uke-fing" him into needing a savior. They make him so powerless

Fizz, a quad amputee, was put in a vulnerable situation related to his trauma and where he lost all his limbs and horns. All to make Blitz "redeem" himself and make them friends again... THAT SUCKS.

Also, there was the fact of how over-sexual all the male mlm characters are, too. Like, Chaz was so much more sexual than Verosika as a succubus.

IT JUST SUCKS.

#vivziepop critique #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #zoophobia criticism #zoophobia critical

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statementlou · 26 days

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my post yesterday about why I don't really care if Louis Tomlinson supports starbucks shocked me by actually circulating and getting notes and obviously I like validation and appreciation.... but I feel kind of weird about my big contribution to the topic being something that might come off as discouraging attempts to help Palestine. Feeling powerless in the face of such injustice is horrible and scary and traumatizing and while there are certain things that I do not think make much difference (like boycotting irrelevant targets), that's NOT how I feel about the situation in general! We CAN make a difference and help the Palestinian people! It can feel impossible to fight against all that power and propaganda and military might- but it has been done successfully over and over, colonialism has been destroyed in one place after another a hundred times in the last century, apartheid regimes have fallen, occupations have ended, because over and over, always, even all the military might in the literal world is less powerful than a united front of the PEOPLE. As Ursula K LeGuin said, "We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings", and as Louis Tomlinson said "The power and magic comes from the people, you guys. Don't undermine your role in all of this" and "get off the 'gram and into the streets"!

Under the cut are things you can do that I believe actually directly impact the Palestinian people and the Israeli government, including some easy ones, and the key to a successful movement is to have every type of contribution, to have NUMBERS. However- it is also necessary to have people willing to do the actual work of fighting injustice, not just changing their consumer habits or yelling at people online. I strongly encourage people to explore becoming physically involved in activist work, and not to see it as yet another tiring obligation but rather as a way to help yourself feel less overwhelmed and exhausted. Feeling powerless and defenseless is a trauma that follows us into every corner of our lives, but standing up and working for change can not only save lives, but is good for your own mental health as well, I promise.

I can't make you an exhaustive list of resources, only tell you some tactics that I believe are actually useful. I'm not an expert or whatever, but I have been actively involved in social justice advocacy, activism, and direct action for over 20 years and am drawing on that history of both things that worked and were great and things that were not from my personal experiences. Thank you to @captainrayzizuniverse for helping me (but she didn't see the post any stupid things said by mistake are entirely on me), and especially for pointing out a big (typical white person) slip up, which was to almost forget the very first item on this list: Listen to, support, and amplify Palestinian voices!!! The whole starbucks issue wouldn't even exist if people just went by this single important guideline and did the things Palestinians were asking for rather than making up other things to do instead. In life altogether, and speaking as a disabled person god does this come up a lot: if you want to help someone, start by asking them what they need and then do that even if it isn't what you think they should want. Don't fucking wing it!! Join local groups organizing for Palestine: the people united are powerful, but only if they are united and working in large groups! Join a group! This is hard because... how? who? And I can't answer that for everyone but I can tell you that in the US JVP (Jewish Voice for Peace) is doing a huge amount of very accessible recruiting, you can just join (you don't need to be Jewish) and get involved straightaway in the great actions they're putting on. PYM (Palestinian Youth Movement) is not open to everyone to join but you should definitely follow them on SM to keep up on actions and maybe find ways to support. If you're a student I bet there is some kind of group at your school?

Go to protests: protest works, period. The general politician rule of thumb is that anyone who bothers to actually go out and march represents 10-100 voters. When they look at the numbers (like- '500-1000 people protested the most recent bill you signed') they do this math and they worry. But also honestly if it's something you can manage- it's good for you. It helps. Even if you just go alone and don't talk to anyone, being in a crowd of hundreds of people feeling the same things you are, caring as much as you do, it helps. If you can, yell along to the chants as loud as you can. Get fired up and use that energy to keep going and not despair!

Call and write officials: if you live in the US or UK this is HUGE. What I said above about how they count people at protests as standing for more people who didn't bother but agree? Same with phone calls for sure, it REALLY pressures them. Many orgs make this really easy- I get emails all the time with links to send a letter in a single click or click to call and all you have to do is read the script, get on some lists I guess? But many sites also have this feature, JVP does for example

Support BDS: the Palestinian led BDS have been doing the work of isolating and chipping away at Israel for 19 years and like I said, the actions of the masses only work if we are united behind a few strategic targets rather than all over the place; they have made this possible. It's good to avoid buying from the companies they target; even better to work on the big divestment campaigns. For example, student groups pressuring the big universities to divest from BDS targets echo the successful University divestment efforts that helped end apartheid in South Africa.

Send money: money helps, immediately and concretely, and again if we are many, each person doesn't have to do a lot. Do what you can spare, it all adds up. This has been painful with Gaza for sure, with millions donating but aid being blocked. I don't have The Answer but here's a group I found that actually seems to be getting aid in, and here's a spread sheet of gofundmes- note that people who have foreign passports do not have to pay the horrible border crossing fees, so you may wish to focus on funding those who don't have that privilege. this could maybe be better and there was some other stuff I wanted to say about doing activism to tie up the "activism as self care" thing from above and also bringing it back around to talk about Louis more but I'm tired and I'm hungry right now and this is a lot already. So. Bye lol sorry. send me asks if any of that is something you care about or want to hear

#yes the first Louis quote is kind of just me being silly I know he was referring to live music... but also he SAID IT #and those words have power regardless of the context and I believe it is an ethos he believes in #and the second thing is literally something he posted from an actual protest. my guy!! 🥰#palestine #blah blah blah #starbucks discourse

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its-your-mind · 7 months

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sorry I won't be done dracula posting until never bc ALSO TODAY. WE GOT THE REMINDER OF JONATHAN'S HAIR. I know that hair-turned-white-by-trauma is a well-known and oft-utilized trope, but what I fuckin LOVE about jonathan is that yes. he has been supremely and deeply fucked up by what happened in castle dracula. it took him months to recover with the nuns, and even when mina brought him home he wasn't fully There. it was only after he spotted the count in london and had van helsing come and tell him that no, he was not mad, the memories he had were real, this monster is real and he's now stalking london... that we see an upturn in jonathan's recovery.

but the thing is. the THING. is. hair-turned-white-by-trauma characters are always characterized by a deep, deep wound to their psyche that never healed properly. their interactions with the rest of the world are shaped by that wound - the powerlessness they felt when there was something or someone trying who hurt them, and they had no way to stop the hurt. they'll do whatever they can do get away, and accept help from the first person who offers. and jonathan's story does follow that trend.

BUT THEN. most of the time, that powerlessness and fear is turned to a facade of stoicism, of intense calm, cut through with occasional abrupt bursts of an intense anger that seems to come from nowhere. but it doesn't come from nowhere. it's a self-protection instinct. they were hurt before. they will Not let something do that to them again.

jonathan... calls for mina. when she comes, he marries her instantly. he gives her his journal, makes her promise never to read it unless she absolutely needs to know what happened to him. wants to keep these memories buried. then lucy, then van helsing, then seward... it was all real. and these people want to stop this from happening to anyone else.

and to jonathan, this isn't a quest for vengeance. he stays back. he helps mina keep the logs. he provides information where he can, stays out of the way when he's not needed. he becomes a pillar of support, the "husband of madame mina" who is at her secretarial disposal. the others sleep outside their room to protect them. it is only after dracula attacks mina that jonathan asks to go out on missions, to help seek dracula out, to join in the pursuit, kukri knife in hand, ready to stop the vampire where he stands and stab him through the heart. and when the count escapes? when they have to make a plan of pursuit that may not work? jonathan does not vow to avenge his wife. he does not vow to kill the count at all costs. he vows that, if mina is to be turned and they cannot stop it, he will go with her. he will not allow her to live as such alone. a vow not made from a place of deep anger and pain, but from an even deeper place of personal, unshakable and devoted love.

the character arc for a hair-turned-white-by-trauma character is so often dominated by a journey back to trust, back to love.

jonathan went into dracula's castle with a journal of train schedules and paprika-filled recipes for his fiance. every time he believed himself close to death, he would write a goodbye to his beloved. and so when he escaped, body withered and mind shattered, he didn't patch himself back together again with ironclad mistrust and an impenetrable heart of steel. instead, he tried to get home. when he couldn't, he called for mina, and he waited for her. he could not trust his own mind. he knew she would come. his memories felt like lies. he had complete trust in her. when he was weak, he knew she would be strong. she would hold him, support him, until his mind was strong enough again.

#AHHHHAHHHHAKFJSKAJA #FUCK #SO FUCKIN NORMAL ABOUT THEM #FUUCK #dracula #re dracula #dracula Daily #Jonathan harker

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