CW: violence, references to dissociation, guilt, flashbacks, mild blood, verbal and physical abuse, mildly derogatory sexual comments/namecalling (no slurs)
Takes place directly after Ruined
“I’m ok, you know.”
Fingers rubbed the soft fabric of the towel against Milo’s hair, a comically worried look plastered on Nick's face. Their crossed legs touched as they sat facing each other on the bed, both in fresh, dry clothes.
It was as if Nick hadn’t even heard him. He just kept on drying Milo’s hair like it was the most important task in the world.
“I’m not hurt.”
I give up, he thought wearily to himself as he leaned into the touch. His head felt a little clearer, now, though a waning uneasiness remained.
The backpack that was abandoned by the bed was the only physical reminder of what had happened between the two, the rain pattering steadily outside the window as the two sat in almost complete silence.
A surprised look broke through the concentration as Milo pulled the half-damp towel from Nick’s hands, throwing it over his partners head.
“You’re turn,” Milo murmured, fingers rubbing in circles against the sandy blonde strands that turned dark from the rain. “You’ll get a cold like this.”
Happy when he didn’t protest, Milo made slow work of drying Nick’s hair, not missing the way his eyes fluttered at the touch. He looked exhausted, the anger and panic he’d seen so starkly before melting away along with his energy. The knowledge he was the cause of it pained Milo, fingers almost faltering as he stared into the face of someone who’d refused to leave him time and time again. It made Milo’s actions feel so hollow and selfish, now, guilt weighing his hands with every movement.
He sighed, pushing the towel back to fall over Nick’s shoulders. Nick blinked, the tired daze broken with the sudden end to the touch.
“I’m gonna get some water, and-” he put a hand up to Nick’s chest before he could move; he could see the way he was already getting to his feet. “-stay here. I need a minute, and I’m ok. Stop fretting over me.”
The torn look on Nick’s face was almost amusing, but he didn’t argue as Milo pushed himself off the bed, trying not to lean against the wall too much as he crossed the room and opened the door carefully.
His eyes stayed locked on the floor as he moved down the hallway, the wood cold underneath his bare feet. He wished he’d stop giving Nick reasons to fret over him, embarrassment starting to rise in his chest at the scene he’d made, running off like that.
The hall was quiet, almost too quiet as he slowed to a stop, foot dragging against the floor.
Milo tensed, catching the sound of soft footfalls behind him in the hallway, phantom touches brushing his skin. It's in your head, he thought, taking a deep breath. Not turning to look was his mistake.
The hands gripping the collar of his shirt were rough, his balance thrown as he was yanked back. His back was against the wall before he even knew what was happening, hands wrapped around his neck, pinning him. Dark green eyes stared harshly into his, Theo’s face closer than he ever wanted it. Milo’s heart raced, throat closing in panic at the sudden, violent proximity.
“I-” He choked, mind going blank. “I, T,Theo-”
“You have some nerve coming back here, after you do nothing but drag Nick through your dirt like he belongs to you.”
The man had more anger in him than Milo had ever seen before, his usual calculated, mocking demeanor gone in place of the true hunger that simmered in his eyes like a hunter stalking its prey. The hand tightened around his throat, not enough to cut off air but enough to send fear shooting through him like an arrow, and he swears Theo’s eyes were starting to look grey. Milo’s head spun, mind reeling in confusion at his wording. It sounded less like he was upset for himself, for some inconvenience, and more like he was angry for Nick. Like that was his concern, somehow.
“I’m..I’m not-” He couldn’t breathe, fumbling at the hands holding him flush against the wall. “I’m not making him doanything.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”
The only thing Milo could see was his eyes, panic clawing at him with a desperation, an unwilling plea to slip away and let his body take the pain without him. It would be so easy to go away for a while, but the idea of going back to the numb, hollow corner of his mind filled him with a strange fear deep in his throat.
He wasn’t sure he could slip away even if he wanted, though, those dark, furious eyes keeping him in the present like the drowning weight of an anchor.
“You think he cares about you, and he probably thinks he does, but you’re nothing but his little bitch-”
There was a blur of movement as Theo was ripped away from him, his body thrown against the wall with an audible slam. The hands gone, Milo could only slip to the floor as his shaking legs gave out underneath him, chest heaving with breaths that couldn’t reach his lungs.
I was supposed to stop giving him reasons to fret, wasn’t I
Nick’s shoulders were tense as he pinned the other, arm against his throat. Milo could only stare at him, stunned. He was useless to do anything else.
“Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on him like that,” Nick seethed, arm pressing harder against Theo’s neck.
The eyes that stared at Nick were full of a halfhearted, instinctive innocence, Theo looking almost stunned that he’d been caught, no excuse for the aggression.
“Nick, I-“. For the first time, Theo looked lost for words.
“Are you ok?”
It took Milo a moment to process that Nick was talking to him, hands hovering shakily over his throat as he pressed back against the wall. He started to answer but flinched, pausing, the sound of Theo’s broken laughter filling the room. He almost sounded...hurt.
“Wow. He’s all you care about, and for what? For some relationship that died in high school? That's what you drop everything for?”
“You know why.” Nick hissed. Milo had never seen him this angry. He reached a hesitant hand out, trying to piece together his thoughts that were so easily shaken.
“Right, because somebody never let go of his little highschool lay.”
Nick was silent, knuckles white. Milo froze. Theo only took that as invitation to keep pushing.
“Is that why he gets to stay here? Because you’re fucking him?” Theo’s voice rose angrily, laced with a mocking tone. “What, because he’s a better fuck than I ever was?”
The silence that fell over the room was deafening. Milo’s breath froze in his chest, back pressed hard against the wall as Nick stared him down, hands trembling violently. It finally clicked for Milo, that moment.
He barely had time to blink when the first punch was thrown.
A loud, surprised cry filled the room, and it took Milo a delayed moment to realize it was his own. The first punch was followed by a second, and then a third, Theo’s body hitting the ground as Nick threw himself on top of him in a frenzy. Theo’s resistance was weak and half hearted, the hands thrown up doing nothing to stop the blows.
Milo’s voice wasn’t heard, the anger was too loud in Nick’s own mind to focus on anything but what was before him, Milo could see that clearly enough.
The hands tugging at Nick’s arm finally seemed to reach him, his chest heaving as he stared down at a dazed but still somehow smug looking Theo, hanging half off the ground where the collar of his shirt was held. Milo wasn’t sure when he’d gotten back to his feet, the floor still feeling unsteady underneath him.
“Enough,” Milo’s knuckles were white where he gripped Nick’s shirt. “Please.”
He had to step back quickly to avoid being pushed over as Nick straightened up, letting Theo fall to the floor
His voice had a harshness, a hurt Milo had never heard from him before. Theo just stared, blood running freely down his nose.
“Get. The fuck. Out. I want your shit gone by tonight.”
“I, Nick-” The smugness was gone, replaced by a dawning realization, disbelief that colored Theo’s features. “Surely you don’t...you don’t mean that.”
“Do I look like I’m joking right now?”
Theo didn’t answer.
“I’ve put up with your bullshit for a long, long time, brushed it off and defended, no- believed you again and again. I’m done.”
The finality of his words hung in the air heavily, almost suffocating. Nobody moved.
Theo’s voice had crumpled into something surprisingly pitiful, his broken expression probably the first genuine thing Milo had ever seen on his face. A twinge of guilt threatened to seep into his mind, but the hurt and resentment was too strong, even with the surprise at the words.
Nick tensed, and for a moment Milo almost thought he’d start swinging again. He went to pull at his arm again, but there was no need. There was no violence in the lines of his face anymore, just a tired hatred.
“Sorry will never be good enough, not for you.”
@haro-whumps @simplygrimly @insanitywishes@lonesome--hunter@deluxewhump@elisabethrosewrites@insanitywishes@iaminamoodymoodtoday @bleeding-demon-teeth @lumpofwhump@redstainedsocks @redstainedsocks @finder-of-rings @insomniacscoprio @inaridriscoll @rosesareviolentlyread @insanitywishes @thehopelessopus @miksmusings @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @princessofonward @liliability @grettiwrites
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Loki is placed in a White Torture room with SHIELD/HYDRA
From Fanfiction “I Think I Forgot”
Excerpt: Chapter 3-
He couldn't sleep in the beginning because of the bright light. Now he dozed off here and there, in any place or position. At times he couldn't tell dreams from awake. Sometimes his dreams were of sitting in the bright white room, and awake he hallucinated that he was elsewhere. Often the Sactuary.
He watched as his hallucinated self scolding him. "You are pathetic Loki. They have done nothing, and you are already breaking. So weak. Have you no pride?"
He shook his head. When he responded, the speech was in his head, with some mumbled sounds through the muzzle. The hallucinations seemed to understand well enough though. "No...I do not. What would the point be? Who is there to pretend to? Pride would not do me any good."
His hallucination of himself scoffed at him. "I am embarrassed to be associated with you. Everyone in all the nine, want no association with you. You should just kill yourself." Loki buried his face in his hands. "I know....I wish I could stop existing....I do not know how! Death is not an escape, or I would be actively trying to accomplish that. It would be a sweet release! I wish for my death more then any other being in the nine."
The hallucination shifted and was now Thor, crouching in front of him with a look of disdain. "Giving up already Brother? Three months is not much time. How weak of you to be so broken already." Loki shook his head in denial. "I am not! I am not weak! You have no idea what I have been through, because you would not let me tell you! You would not last half the amount of time I have!"
Thor smirked and scoffed, standing up and staring down at him. "Well, I would never be weak enough to find myself in your situation. You are worthless Loki. You can't even fail properly. You are basically good for nothing. The Norns would do the Nine a favor if they wiped you from existence."
Loki looked up at Thor, hurt and desperate. "But I was trying to save it! I was trying to do right by Asgard! By you! By everyone! I did everything I could! What more could I have done!" Thor just smirked in disgust.
"You could have stayed in the void. You could have stayed with Thanos and let him treat you as you should be treated. A useless Frost Giant Whore. You were their whore, were you not? Did you love it? Did you moan for them? Spread your legs and beg for them to fill your cunt?"
Loki stared in hurt and shock. "N-no! Of course not! I mean, they did use me....often...But I hated every minute of it! I never want to have sex again! It is vile and disgusting! I fought them,Thor! I never submitted or made it easy! You must believe me!"
Thor snorted. "But you were still too weak. Weren't you Loki. Do you think I would have allowed them to use me? Of course not. Because I am a true warrior. A real man. You have always been weaker. Been Argr."
Loki was scrunched in a ball, fists gripping chunks of hair and shaking his head. "STOP! Please just stop! I am not! I am not! Not weak! Not Argr! I...I....I........*sob*...please....just go away...." Thor crouched close to him, whispering in his ear.
"I never want to see your worthless ergi, jotun ass again, Loki. Stay here and never return. You are no brother to me, and have no place near me. You only bring pain to those around you. You deserve this. Take it like the man you will never be."
Loki wailed out a loud sob. He felt so alone. So unwanted, useless, hated even.
His body shook with his violent sobs.
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For Him By: QueenieBlood - T, WIP - “All I want is a normal life, is that too much to ask for?” Five years is a long time to be heartbroken. Within those five years Hermione becomes transfixed in a mundane world all for the sake of healing her broken heart. What happens when she crosses paths with Draco, who's in desperate need of help from a certain bushy haired brunette?
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Safe to say I'm fucked lmao
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i don’t think i can keep doing this
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Flashbacks 🎥 @tr3frames 🎼 @arza.arzito featuring @flashiusclayton x @vhscu #flashbacks #rxtrogod (at North Phoenix, Phoenix) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNmdJwmj-V9/?igshid=ty7gxn2z36b9
I feel like not existing...
...but obviously, that's clearly not the way out. Pains keep drastically increasing... and I haven't slept in 2 days now for that...
And I know...
That I'm supposed to be really happy now that the blessed Ramadan month is starting next day... all the great vibes, activities...
Here, I'll explain how it is; like in a simplified way.
30 day period of intense meditation and prayers, but most importantly the daily fasting schedule which begins from roughly 3:30 am to 6 pm, you eat a very early breakfast at 3, called 'Suhoor' ... Then keep yourself very modest and watchful of your actions, pray more than usual, don't eat or drink anything until it's 6...
Now's the time called 'Iftar' where we usually prepare sliced fruits, the most important being a date which you eat first before anything... Now sophisticated gourmet type folks keep extra stuff which could include many kinds of fried snacks, natural drinks, etcetera...
The 30th day after, there comes the most important festival in Islam called 'Eid'... It marks the end of the month of fasting and men go with all male household members to designated open or plain grounds, like a football stadium and perform a unique prayer, when it's done everyone gets up and says 'Eid Mubarak' to each other, even people you don't know. We do this signature hug with each other, then head home, greet moms and sisters and a little get-together where we all eat a sweetened mixture of milk, dates and vermicelli. (Varies according to the country you're from)
People, relatives, neighbours all visit each other, they give children money presents which kids are always eager for...
But of course, many social activities are hampered and done with extra care due to this pandemic...
It's a month everyone looks forward to, they prepare well and get a little away from worldly things.
How 'My problem' is a problem here...
The fasting part is mandatory for every abled mature person and doesn't apply to me (for now) ...
This is more than just a festive season... I think of it like a divine Ice-cream truck which comes every year and gives it to all people in the neighbourhood... which I won't be able to approach due to all conditions I am stuck with... medications, pains and all that.
I remember how much different or experiencing it used to be before... and I probably won't experience it again this year, 7 times in a row since 2014...
...then the flashbacks of the Eid of 2014, when I did the 'thing' which began this different story of life.
In short, it's going to be real hard on me... I just want everything back in place, I have tried so hard, I keep trying... but it always is only 'an inch away' ... Worst part is that everyone thinks I am being lazy, as if they're omnipotent mind readers...
I don't want good times to be personal mourning times...
I just keep fighting till losing sanity.
I have forgotten what happiness really felt like...
If anyone who's an Abrahamic follower and reading this... I don't know... Just pray for me, man...
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Hi! so since there are a few people who are writing manacled from dracos POV i noticed one or two added the idea that Draco liked her from before or had a teeny tiny crush on her during hog warts. But that’s not what I understood from reading manacled and I think you even said he didn’t liked her.
I just wanted to confirm that he never had any interest in her and she was just a coverup to make it seem like his offer was real. Thank you!
Correct. He found her notable enough to be “interesting”, but he did not have any sexual or romantic inclination towards her, and if he had, he probably would have asked for someone else.
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I think I’m having flashbacks or a panic attack I feel sick it’s too quiet there’s no one here’s I’m gonna throw uo I’m gonna puke I wanna die I wish someone was here I wish anyone was here I’m gonna cry imcryingtingifeeksickiwannsthoreupiwannaripp mmyoej throat out
The Deracination of Scars
Chapter One: Pinioned Wings
There were voice’s bouncing off the walls of the station. People were shouting down in booking and officers were laughing in the break room. Dick couldn’t hear any of it. It was as if all sound had been turned off completely. It wasn’t like the ear ringing a bomb would give or even the odd deafness that came from a concussion. No. He just couldn’t hear.
He couldn’t feel either. It should be concerning he thought, but somehow he couldn’t shake off the shock.
He was better than that. He knew he was, but somehow he just felt incredibly cold and hollow. It was as if his insides had been scooped out leaving nothing inside to generate heat or process the information coming in from all around him. The letter shook in his hand. Hess sank down into the seat next to him. Dick tried to think of something to say. He tried to clear his throat and give a smile. Anything to make it look like he didn’t care, that he didn’t feel. But he found his body simply didn’t respond. He had known it would happen, but he hadn’t expected it so soon.
“You don’t have too, you know?” Hess spoke softly.
It was this that broke him out of his trance. Sound rushed back into his ears like water breaking a dam, and it was suddenly too much.
He could hear the shot as if it had just gone off. One shot.
He stood and stumbled slightly, from the speed of it. He couldn’t breathe. It felt like his chest was being crushed. It felt like blood was choking it’s way up his throat again. It felt like he was--
The gun fire rang in his ears over and over again.
Dick looked down and saw his white uniform unmarred by blood. He was fine. He was-- He was in the station. He was safe. He was fine.
Hess was looking at him with an odd look. Dick didn’t like it. It was too close to pity. Dick wondered in that moment if perhaps he was cursed. It seemed everything always went wrong at once. Why couldn’t it just be one thing at a time?
“Grayson, I mean it. You don’t have to go, you don’t even have to give another statement. It’s just a request from the DA. They don’t need it.”
Continue reading on AO3
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The Fierce And Broken
“You found me then.”
Murphy nodded and sunk down to the ground next to you. It had seemed like a good idea to hide out in the library, it was closed off and you assumed nobody would look for you there. But you had forgotten that nobody knew you the way John Murphy does.
Murphy frowned seeing you so upset. “What’s going on Alba? You have been acting strange for weeks.”
You shook your head and wiped away fallen tears as he contained to stare. You took a couple deep breaths before finally being able to speak, “it’s nothing...I’m just being stupid.”
“You’re not stupid Al, and thats the problem.” Murphy put his arm around your shoulder, “who’s ass do I need to kick for this?”
His comment made you chuckle, “no one.” You wiped away more tears before smiling into his hug. “I just feel so tired always pretending, you know? And I don’t know how to make it right. I just feel broken.”
Murphy brushed a strand of hair out of your face, you could see the look of concern on his face. “What do you mean by broken?”
“I just-” You struggled to find the words to express how you were feeling. “I look at girls John.”
“So?” He scoffed, obviously not understanding what you were getting at.
“No I mean I look at girls. I look at them the same way I should look at boys...” Pausing you thought about your next choice of words, “I like girls.”
Murphy placed a soft kiss to your cheek he had been stroking a moment previously. “Yeah girls are pretty hot.”
You smiled into his embrace. John was the only person you had worried about treating you differently when you realised that you had started to get crushed on girls, but the truth was he didn’t care. And you’d never been so grateful he was your friend.
You woke to the sounds of a woman yelling, “I need a saline and a pressure dressing. I’m going to need to check her hip bones in a moment.”
“I’m on it.”
You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the harsh light of the room. Doctor Griffin was leaning over you, she smiled when she noticed you waking up. “You gave us quite a scare, I’m glad to see you awake Y/N.”
“Where am I?” You asked groggily.
“Camp Jaha,” another voice said.
Facing the doorway you could see Octavia smiling as walked towards you, with her arms stretching out. She pulled you into a tight hug. “You had me so worried Al! I thought you had died.”
You held onto her tightly, “me? I thought the blast from the rocket had got you.” Pulling back from the hug you whined at the sharp pain in your arm. “Oh Jesus, I did forget about the pain.”
“Careful, you’ll end up pulling your IV out.” Jackson said, before explaining he needed to dress a deeper cut on your back. You nodded for him to start and don’t your best not to cry as the feeling of nippiness started to spread across your bare skin.
Octavia squeezed your hand. “Clarke told us what happened. The mountain men...how they are taking bone marrow and blood from us and grounders, from you.”
“Some of our people are still in there.” You paused for a moment to try and think about what else happened, “Anya is dead. She was going to set up a meeting with us and her commander, but she’s gone.”
Octavia kneeled down to your level. “Hey, we still have a chance.” She squeezed your hands again, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to come in and see you. I know Murphy will be thrilled when he knows you are awake.”
“Murphy?” You asked confused, after hanging Bellamy and shooting Raven you thought he would have been banished again. God, Raven. “Murphy is still in camp? And Raven’s alive?”
“He sure is, and Raven is alive and waiting to see you.” Once Jackson was finished Octavia leaned in closer to you, “I’m glad I caught you before I left.”
“Where are you going?”
Octavia watched to make sure nobody else was paying attention to your conversation. “Raven is turning the electric fence off so me Bellamy, and Clarke can leave-” she stopped talking when Abby walked back into the room. “Murphy and Finn are actually out looking for our people now.”
You played along so Abby wouldn’t grow suspicious. Octavia shared a knowing look with you, the thought of her going out into the wild scared but you knew Bellamy would keep her safe. You mouthed ‘be careful’ before she left.
“So,” Abby said, stepping in front of you with a smile. “We are going to look at your hip once Jackson is back, I’ll need to check for any signs of infection. I’m honestly surprised you managed to walk that far considering what was done to you.”
“Clarke helped,” you shrugged. A look of pride spread across the older woman's face. Clarke wasn’t your favourite person but she did save you from drowning, “Anya also helped. She saved me and Clarke a couple of times...what they are doing to the grounders is worse than what’s happening to us, to me. It’s barbaric.”
Abby gave you a sympathetic smile as Jackson entered the room. You dropped the subject and leaned back into the table.
Groaning you sat up, your original plan was to go look for your friends but between the pain and sleep deprivation you had nodded off. Sighing you looked around the room for your clothes but couldn’t see them. The gown you were wearing wasn’t exactly practical.
Opening the door to the hallway you looked around for anybody that could help but it was empty. Hearing footsteps you decided to walk in that direction when you heard Abby’s voice.
“Did you know about this?”
You recognised the other voice instantly and smiled. It was Raven.
“Tell me where they went and you won't be in trouble.” The aggression in Abby's voice surprised you, she had always been so nice when you had previously met her.
“Someone let them through the fence. Someone gave them guns.”
Oh shit. It’s finally clicked, Abby knows Raven helped her daughter and the others escape. You walked as fast your body allowed you to before finding the door to the room they were in. You caught your breath before opening the door.
“I don’t know what you’re talk-”
You let out a gasp as you opened the door and saw Abby slapping Raven across the face. What the fuck. Abby stepped back from the brunette, “She thinks that because of what she's been through she's changed, but she's still just a kid.”
“You’re wrong, Abby. She stopped being a kid the day you sent her down here to die.”
Abby finally noticed you standing at the doorway and cleared her throat before giving you a fake smile, she obviously didn’t think you had seen. “Y/N, how are you holding up?”
As she spoke Raven turned around to face you, and you could see the red mark on her cheek. It took everything inside you not to curse the doctor out for hurting Raven. “Uh,” you knew from the look your friend was giving you she didn’t want you to say anything. “I don’t know where my clothes are.”
“Oh of course,” Abby clasped her hands together. “Octavia took them earlier and I’m afraid she didn’t tell me where they were placed, and she’s busy at the moment. I can-”
“I have spare clothes Alba can wear until we find hers,” Raven said quietly.
Abby nodded and exited the room, once you were alone you pulled Raven into a hug. You were afraid to say anything knowing that your voice would break. You were concentrating so hard on not crying that you didn’t notice the leg brace Raven had on until you stepped back.
Raven gave you a soft smile before, “I thought you were goner Al.”
“Likewise,” you moved to get a better look at her cheek. “I can’t believe she hit you.”
“It’s fine Alba, I don’t care about it. What I care about is your back.”
For the first time since being taken by the mountain men you didn’t feel that everything was doomed, knowing that two of your friends were safe was enough to bring a little bit of light back into the darkness.
“Come on, let’s get you out of that horrendous gown.”
“I can’t believe you are staying in a tent, they should have found you a room inside. If not because of your leg then at least because of all the work you do for them.”
Raven laughed at the comment as she handed you clothes. You ripped the gown off and happily threw it to the ground and shimmed into a pair of dark jeans and pulled on a clean top. Opening your mouth to thank Raven again you noticed the way she was staring down at her leg. You sat down on the bed next to her, “Reyes?”
You could see her lip trembling as she glanced up, “I have nerve damage from the gunshot.”
“I’m so sorry Raven, I swear I’m going to kill Murphy when I get my hands on him.” It still didn’t feel real to me that Murphy was capable of hurting someone that much. “Whatever you need I’ll be at your beck and call.”
“Careful you might regret saying that one day,” she chuckled. Raven’s smile faded when she focused at your waist, the brunette placed her hand by your bruised hip. You hadn’t noticed the top was ruffled up at one side, her fingers lightly rubbed against the top of your bruise. “What happened Al?”
You shrugged, “It’s a little fuzzy. The last thing I remember is injecting you with coagulant, Anya tried to kill us, then we blasted off.”
“Then the mountain men came.”
“Yeah they came and took most of us. I’m glad I got out but I still feel guilty for not trying to convince others to leave with us.”
Raven gave you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t do that Al, don’t punish yourself for the pain somebody else has caused.”
You were lost for words, Raven made basic sentences sound so poetic.
“What-what did they do to you in Mount weather?”
“I remember a horrible drilling noise, then waking up to a man called Dante Wallace leaning over me. He told me some bullshit then I escaped with Clarke shortly after.”
Raven looked unimpressed, “that’s it? I want to know everything that happened.”
Nodding you began explaining the full story of how you escaped, you tried your best not to laugh as Raven’s facial expressions that kept changing. She seemed particularly interested in how you got every deep cut and bruise. “I hope Clarke manages to convince the commander to agree to a truce.”
“I hope so.” You shuffled further back onto the bed so you could lie down. Raven gave you an amused look as you made yourself more comfortable, then It dawned on you that this wasn’t your tent. “Fancy having a roommate Reyes? At least until I get my own tent.”
She grinned before laying down next to you on the small bed, “I think that could work.”
There were still so many things you wanted to discuss with Raven but it wasn’t the right time. It was still daylight outside but you were both exhausted. You couldn’t stop yawning, and could tell how strained your friend was. Raven had heavy bags underneath her eyes most likely caused by stress of her leg injury. You wished more than anything you could take that pain away from her. Her ‘get on with it’ attitude amazed you considering the situation she was in.
Even if it was impossible for you to physically take her pain away, you could always try and distract her. “Reyes?”
“What's it like to spacewalk?”
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When I run out of road, you bring me home - Chapter 3
A prompt from @evilsnowswan that took on a life of it’s own.
Two weeks pass before Andrea sees Lena again. The contact has been minimal, an occasional email, and a few calls between assistants to help during the Catco handover, but nothing more. The Catco employees are still quiet towards her, tentative in their approach, but Andrea can tell that they’re slowly beginning to accept her as their new boss.
The shoes she has to fill are huge, and there’s still a gap in front of her toes, but that doesn’t stop her from trying — too hard, really. She’s overcompensating and they all know it. The free pastries that Lena always provided are continued, with the added bonus of random lunchtime spreads whenever Andrea feels that her employees have worked particularly hard that morning.
It’s the first thing Lena comments on when she steps into Andrea’s office, a soft, teasing smile playing on her lips as she gazes around at the new decor. Andrea watches her silently, unsure of what to say after their last encounter and struggling to ignore the way her heart pounds inside her chest.
Read the full 3rd chapter early on Patreon.
Chapter 1 now available on AO3.
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“Be Gentle with Yourself
“Even as you develop your cognitive tree and come to understand why you respond as you do to triggers, there may be times when you feel foolish, or even angry with yourself, because you are triggered. As you struggle to keep yourself from acting on impulses that arise when you’re triggered, you may berate or criticize yourself. You may yell at yourself for wanting to scream at the rude person on the street because the rage that comes up when you feel someone doesn’t respect you is almost unbearable. At other times, you may feel humiliated or ashamed, just as you did when you were a child and couldn’t seem to get it right when people demanded things of you.
“It helps to remember that you aren’t reacting on purpose. Instead, to some part of you--usually a child part--your adult life doesn’t exist. The only time frame in which this part lives is back then, when things were dangerous, when you were being hurt. Within the pocket of time, your adult self isn’t real yet. The part of you that has been triggered doesn’t know about adult options: that you can walk away, stand up for yourself without being hurt, or talk it through and work it out.
“When you know this, it’s easier to be gentle with yourself. Instead of giving yourself a hard time or looking around to be rescued by someone, you can observe your responses to different triggers. Also, you’ve added another branch to your cognitive tree when you realize that, until the memory is processed and the contents of the pocket of time have been brought into the present, you can’t help but be triggered. The nice thing to know is that it CAN change. Your adult awareness can enter the pocket of time and make all the difference in the world.”
--Getting Through the Day: Strategies for Adults Hurt as Children by Nancy J. Napier
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I intentionally triggered myself and now I feel like I need to throw up lmao
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god flashbacks suck ass
Q, NRB, WR: i have plenty of symptoms but only one memory from a flashback. I was 8 at most, hands all over me, he seemed old, maybe gray hair. I always ignored it but now I think I’m ready to accept what (probably) happened. Can I call this sexual abuse? I feel stupid for asking but I also just don’t feel valid.
Yes, trust yourself. You know your mind better than anyone else, so if that is what you think happened then that is valid. It’s amazing if you can get concrete answers and closure, but even if you want that’s okay too. We’re here for you.
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reblog + put something you’re proud of yourself for in the tags! can be as small or big as you want, you deserve to be proud of all your achievements :)
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Excerpt from my latest stucky WIP (TW-suicidal thoughts at the very end):
“The brief levity that Rafa’s visit had brought swiftly went by the wayside as deep, gut-clenching loneliness swept through Steve. He tried to slow down the images as they rushed by, reminding him of a happier life, a life worth living. Gracie’s comforting brown eyes smiling at him, and her blonde curls shaking with laughter as they watched Shirley and Evelyn on the dance floor. Daisy’s hand warming his arm as she tightly held on after one too many cocktails in Atlanta. Bernadette admonishing him “Don’t you dare drop us, Steven Rogers” as he practiced lifting up the motorcycle with the girls on it. Those memories soon morphed into those of the Howlies and Bucky. Morita teaching him how to drive a motorcycle, and Monty teaching him how to hotwire a jeep. Dernier patiently waiting out his butchered French with Gabe laughing his ass off at the atrocious attempt. And Dum Dum tenderly taking care of him after Bucky fell, like Steve was one of his own children.
And Bucky. Oh God, Bucky! The memories flying too fast and furious for any one of them to be clear, but through it all, Bucky’s gentle smile and kind eyes, loving him through everything life threw at them. Steve closed his eyes and let the grief consume him. He ached to the very marrow of his bones with the weight of all the loss. It was too much. Far too much. Why couldn’t he have died on the Valkyrie? Why did he have to be found and thawed out? Why couldn’t he just cease to exist and be at peace? Why did he have to hurt? And he hurt, terribly so. Worse than when the serum broke and stretched every bone and ligament and muscle in his body. He just wanted the pain gone. He wanted to be gone.”
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una via - chapter 3
Read it on Ao3
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Spilled Milk - cruciokink
Spilled Milk - cruciokink | One-Shot, 1046 Words, T rated
“She was only supposed to be gone five minutes. Five minutes turned into ten. Ten minutes turned into twenty. Before he knew it, she had been gone an hour and he knew something was wrong.”
This was heartbreakingly beautiful. A super short one-shot that deals with grief and sorrow and losing a loved one. This will hurt and will probably make you tear up, if not full on cry. I loved this line a lot: "She was never golden to him. To him, she was every fucking color that could ever exist.".
Tropes: Lost Love
Characters: Draco Malfoy
Plot Tags: Post-War, Mourning, Tearjerker
Trigger Warning: Major Character Death
Overall: get that away from me / ugh disappointing / meh meh meh/ ooh not bad / yaaas i loved it / bury me with it
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