#I'm thinking about my old phone that was probably my first object crush before I knew what that was...sigh

[anothermonikan]

feeling very objectum tonight. hello objectums. I love you

[rikumorimachisgirl]

Title: Eyes on you

Pairing: Shaw x You

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,901

A/N: You (Y/N) are not the MC in MLQC. This is a plunny that's been bugging me for quite a while, I had to write it. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own MLQC or its characters, but I do own the concept of this fic.

There were a few mysteries in this world that the esteemed Archeology Graduate Professors at Loveland University can't explain - for instance, the formation of the Stonehenge, the exact location of the lost city of Atlantis, the origin of the Nazca lines… and your presence at the Metro Art Gala dressed to the nines, positively gleaming as you strode arm in arm with your classmate and Thesis partner Shaw, who seemed like the perfect gentleman that evening. Thanks to your work at the Loveland Museum, you scored two invites to the gala featuring the recently discovered works of a well-known artist - an event any Archeology fanatic wouldn't let pass. The two of you walked along with LFG's Exhibition Hall, pausing occasionally to admire one of the recently discovered sculptures by the Renaissance artist D'Romani. As you both looked at the intricacies of the artwork in front of you, your charming companion would lean in slightly and whisper something in your ear, causing you to roll your eyes or stifle a giggle. 

To the guests in the prestigious gala, the two of you looked like two young people at the cusp of falling in love, but the members of the Faculty of the Graduate School of Archeology saw it differently - this was a real-life mystery if they'd seen one. 

As your eyes swiftly swept through the entire room, you could see that your professors only had one question in mind - how'd this happen? How did two people as different as day and night, who argued with each other throughout Graduate studies, end up amiably enjoying each other's company tonight? 

You drew a sharp breath and sighed. The answer was simple: Your Thesis defense was right around the corner. You needed him to cooperate, you were willing to go to great lengths to make it happen. And your Thesis partner (unfortunately) was ready to take full advantage of the situation. 

***

"Tell me why we're doing this again, " you said through the door that separated you and your date, as you were putting on the dress you bought (or invested on, as he casually stated) for tonight's gala, which he insisted on attending with you. It was six in the evening on a Friday, and you had just arrived home after cramming your workload at the Loveland Museum and foregoing your meal breaks just so you could leave work at exactly five-thirty. 

"I already told you a couple of times - you want me to cooperate with you so you can pass our Thesis, and I need a reason to be around her," the purple-haired man waiting at the other side of your bedroom door called out nonchalantly. "You can drop your fantasy about me asking you out because I'm attracted to you."

You hissed silently at his snarky remark and counted to ten. You haven't even left your apartment yet you already wanted this night to be over. "How do you even know she's gonna be there?"

She - the Miracle Finder Producer, the object of your Thesis Partner's fantasies, and as fate would have it, his brother's girlfriend. 

"They're doing a show featuring our Thesis adviser. Didn't he tell us about it during our last consultation?" He asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I wasn't listening," you shot back, as you took off your ponytail and started styling your hair with your curling iron. You chose a one-shoulder fitted black dress that stops right above your knees, so you thought of wearing your hair down for a change. 

"Ah, yes. You were too busy looking at your notes, trying to prove me wrong as always."

You closed your eyes, as you continued to make big beach waves and prayed to the gods you wouldn't commit murder tonight. 

"How much longer are you gonna take?"

"Excited much?" You asked, smirking while you now removed your glasses and put on your contacts. "You sound like a teenager excited to see his crush in a school fair!"

"Don't compare me to you!" 

"I don't have designs on anyone in the party," you called back. "Unless your brother's attending the event, that is. From what you've been telling me, he seems like a great guy."

Silence. You arched an eyebrow as you strained your ear to listen for any sign of life outside your bedroom door. What must your grunge-rock skater boy-turned-date-for-the-evening be thinking? 

"Do you want to pass our Thesis or not?"

You struck a victory pose at his remark. Finally, one point - you, Shaw - about twenty. 

"Are you done yet? This suit is really uncomfortable. Damn, why do people even wear these?"

"Because they're decent?" You shot back. "You know, you can always go home if you're not comfortable in your attire because when we get there, you need to act decent, too. Can't have your usual swagger in a formal affair."

"Just hurry it up already!"

You rolled your eyes as you applied your nude-colored lipstick to finish off your look before putting on your black stilettos, and stuffing your phone, wallet, and your makeup in your purse. 

"All done," you replied, as you finally emerged from your room. 

***

A part of you wished that the dynamics between you and Shaw were different. While he was a pain in the neck, and too carefree for his own good, you also thought he made for a good intellectual sparring partner, quite attractive, and it was hard to deny that he's got your heart beating double-time whenever he got too close for comfort like he was at that very moment. 

"My, you two kids seem to be having fun tonight."

You gasped, at the sound of the voice behind you, and you felt your date nudge you ever-so-subtly while straightening.

"Hey, Professor Adler," he said in his usual unruffled tone, his lips stretched into a smirk as he held his hand out to your Anthropology professor and Thesis adviser, who watched you both amusedly. His gesture made your eyes shot wide open, you thought they'd fall right off. Shaw shaking someone's hand? That's one for the books. 

"Shaw. Fancy seeing you here," the stout middle-aged man greeted while shaking your date's hand. "This isn't your usual scene though."

"Yeah, I know, but I can't exactly turn a pretty lady down, can I?" 

"I can see that," your professor said as he looked at you appraisingly. "Well, well, you clean up well, Miss (y/n)."

You fought the urge to squirm at the older man's words when you heard your date cluck his cheeks with his tongue and suddenly felt his arm around your shoulders, pressing you protectively close to his side. 

***

"All done!" You happily announced as you stepped into the living room of your small apartment where your date was impatiently waiting for you. 

You could've sworn he was stunned for a second or two before he shook his head and tried to regain his usual impassive expression. Finally, he stood and walked closer to assess you better. 

"You're not wearing your glasses. I thought you said you're practically blind without them?" 

You cocked your head to one side. Out of all the things he could've complimented or called out, that's the first thing he noticed? 

"Wouldn't it look awkward if I wore glasses to a formal event?"

"Your hair is all curly," he continued as if you didn't say anything. "And your shoes are so tall, won't you trip? Also, surely you have a jacket to go with that dress, right?" 

You stared at him in disbelief. Why did this carefree, bass-playing skater boy turn into your dad all of a sudden? 

"Uh…"

"Well, at least you're not wearing red lipstick. You don't have to try too hard to look sexy. Geez! I've got plans of my own this evening, so don't expect me to be your bodyguard," he continued to mumble as he circled around you. Before long, you felt something warm and heavy on your shoulder. His coat?

"It's just until we get to the venue," he shrugged as he led you to the car he borrowed for tonight. "I don't want people seeing you freeze to death."

You sighed, your shoulders slumped as you followed your date to the car. You already expected he wouldn't throw you a compliment for looking like a proper human tonight, and you cursed yourself for feeling gutted over it anyway. 

 ***

"So, which one of these sculptures did you like best, Professor?" You sighed in relief as Shaw changed the subject, his arm still wrapped around you, making you blush furiously. 

"Oh, I have to say I liked Eros and Psyche best. In case you haven't seen it yet, it's located a little further down the hall near the bar area," the older man was starting to explain when someone tapped his shoulder from behind. 

"Excuse me, Professor Adler," a gentle voice called out, making both the professor and Shaw jump. From behind the old man, a pretty petite with brown hair and big brown eyes, and the biggest smile on her face stepped up. "My name is MC from Miracle Finder."

Almost immediately, Shaw withdrew his arm around you, almost causing you to stagger backward. He straightened up and feigned disinterest. 

"Hey. It's a little rude how you stepped in while I was talking to the Professor," he said, his tone teasing. 

"Oh, I didn't notice you here. Do you mind if I talk to your Professor? We've invited him for an interview about the exhibit," the girl said sweetly. 

Based on how unconsciously coy she acted around Shaw, and the way he kept egging her, there was no doubt that this was the girl he was crushing on. You felt like the odd person out all of a sudden and needed to step away. 

You backed away slowly, careful not to rouse their attention because it would probably suck if you knew how Shaw would introduce you to his little crush. As soon as you were in a safe distance, you turned and walked aimlessly down the hall, pausing briefly at paintings or sculptures that caught your fancy, looking at its intricacies as you did so earlier. But somehow, it wasn't as fun as it was before, so you moved on quickly, to give way to the other guests who also wanted to view the artwork.

Finally, you came upon the bar and decided to rest your tired feet at the far corner, hidden from the rest of the world. Sighing, you slipped your feet off your stilettos and quietly watched as the guests around you - mostly couples - happily chatting away as they enjoyed the beauty of the art around them and the wonderful music that filled the air. You knew somewhere in the crowd, your date was fawning over his lady love, probably getting in the way of her filming your professor. 

Tch. 

You knew he liked her - he always told you he did. And why wouldn't he? MC was pretty, seemingly sweet, and dainty - the kind of girl any guy would like to protect. And you. You were the opposite. You lived for your work, were 'one of the boys', and didn't need anyone to protect you - that's just how you were - and now you started to realize that maybe guys don't exactly like that. At least not Shaw. 

Wait, what were you thinking? You scolded yourself as you shook your head. Why were you even thinking of what he liked when you don't even like him to start with. Or did you? 

"Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me?" You groaned when a cold bottle of beer and a frozen glass was placed in front of you. 

"I was gonna ask you that myself." 

You straightened up in your seat and shot a look at the guy seated beside you. Dressed in a nice grey suit, he smiled as he raised his beer bottle in front of you. 

"You look like you needed a drink. I hope the beer is okay. They don't have fruit beer or soda," he said calmly, his amber-colored eyes never leaving yours. 

"Y-yeah. Beer is perfect," you replied while pouring the amber liquid into the glass. "Thanks," you muttered before raising the glass to your lips to gulp down some liquid courage. 

"I saw you with Shaw earlier -"

The name on his lips drove you to a coughing fit, as you choked on your drink. "Sorry, " you mumbled in between coughs. 

"No, I'm sorry," the brown-haired guy said, as he cautiously and politely patted your back. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I was just curious."

"It's fine," you replied when you finally regained your composure. "Yes, we're just classmates in Grad school who decided to check this exhibit out for the heck of it."

"Classmates, huh?"

"Yeah, that's what we are," you said, taking a sip off your glass. "Grad school classmates."

"Are you telling me or telling yourself?"

You looked up and saw him smiling. There was something about Dreamy McHandsome who was seated beside you that felt so familiar yet different at the same time, but you couldn't point a finger at what it was exactly. 

"We're classmates, and we're working on our thesis together. But we're not friends - far from it even. We hate each other's guts."

"Can't blame you for doing so," he shrugged as he drank his beer. 

"Yeah. He dragged me here so he can get with someone he's been crushing on for so long," you rambled on, frowning. 

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"The Miracle Finder Producer. You know, the pretty girl in a blue top and white skirt. He's been going on and on about her for weeks…"

"You mean my girlfriend?" 

His girlfriend. You choked on your drink once again. "Y-y-your girlfriend? You mean to say…" You gasped. Has the beer made you stupid? You've barely drunk half of it, you thought as you fought to regain your dignity. This was Shaw's brother you were talking to - and boy, we're they blessed with good genes…

… And the same social awkwardness, you noticed, judging by how he kept his hand at your back, but not exactly touching it, as if trying to assess if he had to pat you or not. 

When you finally calmed down, he cleared his throat and gave you a small smile. "Don't worry. She talks to me about their conversations. I know what that guy is playing at, and I most definitely know he's not after my girl," he said, his voice broke no room for doubt. "My name is Gavin..."

"Yeah, I know…"

"You - what?"

"Oh," you said, tapping on your glass nervously. "Shaw kinda mentioned it in passing before."

"I see."

"So, what were you saying earlier about Shaw?"

"Oh. From what my girlfriend tells me, he's got his sights set on…"

"Ahem," you heard someone say loud enough for you and Gavin to turn your heads around. And there, standing behind you, was an angry-looking Shaw. You sat up, your gaze shifting between the two brothers as the air started to thicken with tension. "I talk to someone for a minute and the next thing I knew, my date walks out on me and right into the one person I'd hate for her to meet."

"Well, if you were just honest with her as with a lot of other things in your life, maybe she wouldn't have left your side earlier," Gavin retorted flippantly. "Is she finally done with filming?"

Shaw simply grunted in reply as he watched his older brother finish his bottle of beer and stand. "Well, Miss, there's a lot I've heard about you. Seems somebody couldn't stop talking about you, but I'll leave it at that." 

With a wink and a mischievous smile upon his face, the brown-haired guy sauntered off to look for his better half, as you and Shaw watched in awkward silence. 

He cleared his throat and glanced at you. "Hey."

"Hey," you replied, shakily. 

"So, about what that jerk said -"

"Yes?" You asked, feeling your heart hammer against your chest by the second.

"Whatever he said is not true," he said dismissively, as he took his coat off and draped it over your shoulders. "I told you before, I don't find you the least bit attractive."

You felt tears starting to sting your eyes, as he continued with his harsh commentary. "You're tough, highly opinionated, and you always want to come out on top. I don't find those attractive at all," he said. "I prefer a damsel in distress. I want someone clingy… someone, needy."

"I know that -"

"Oh do you?" He teased, his amber eyes twinkling. "You seem to know a lot about me."

"We've been working together for months now," you said. "Of course, I'd know more about you."

"I see," he said, as he took a step closer to you and touched your cheek, rubbing the stray tear that had managed to slip down the side of your face. "So, you must know I'm also a good liar. After all, I've kept all these feelings to myself for quite some time."

He snickered when he saw your frown deepen and he bent down just as he had done so earlier, to whisper. "I made you think I liked someone else when in fact," his low voice made you shiver. "I've always eyes for you."

The End.

[angrylizardjacket]

it's in the blood // this is tradition

Summary: Children inherit all sorts of traits from their parents. Not all these traits are good.

"My reputation preceded me before I was born."

[ charlotte & lola au ]

A/N: 2292 words. Halsey's new album killed me on the spot. i talk a lot about the next gen being mirrors of their parents, but i'd like to go into detail about that not necessarily being a positive. @misscharlottelee this made me feel things. i love these kids.

Warnings: overdose mention, addiction discussion, mentions of drug abuse.

Penelope Dingley-Lee

Tommy can count the amount of times he'd seen Razzle truly angry on one hand, and here and now he can see it again, written all over his neice's face. He'd thought she would look like Charlie when she's angry, and occasionally she does, the way her lip curls derisively, dismissively, that's very reminiscent of his cousin, but here and now, her blue eyes are hazy, cloudy, and her lips twist with an irate arrogance that is worryingly familiar.

Angry and high and wearing clothes that don't quite match, in this moment she's exactly her father's daughter.

She's been in the papers again. Her tits have been in magazines again. Tommy bites down on his instinctual desire to repremand her; she'd call him a hypocrite, call him an old man, tell him to keep his opinions to himself while she could still buy his sex tape out of a shady car boot down the street.

Charlie was like that too, on occasion, wit too quick for him to keep up with. When she got into a mood like this, Tommy didn't have to worry so much; usually Razzle would egg her on, but knew when to pull her back.

"It's my god given, motherfucking right to go feral -" he'd heard Charlie back in the eighties holler at three in the morning, high on amphetamines and waving a gossip rag above her head. Razzle would be on the sofa, equally fucked up, but gazing at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

"Lola gets photographed at least once a month stark naked along the strip like it's a sport, why is my Playboy shoot a national crisis?! My tits are fantastic!"

"They are, my love," Razzle nods seriously, and Tommy pulls his pillow from beneath his head, trying to either block out their voices through the thin walls, or maybe smother himself. The girl beside him, the groupie whose name he doesn't know, asks blearily why there's so much yelling. Tommy doesn't answer.

A week later, Tommy is the one to bail out Charlie and Razzle for public indecency, and they're both beaming from ear to ear.

Here in the present, Penny is draped out on the sofa, laughing low and pleased as she watches TV.

"TMZ blurred out my tits," she snorts, "cowards."

"Penny..." he can't help the faintly disappointed notes in his voice when he says her name.

"Thomas, I've read The Dirt," Penny fires back venemously. Hypocrite he hears in her tone, you have no power over me.

There's something hollow in her eyes in the photos he sees of her in the papers. She wears her father's inflluence and her heart on her crushed velvet sleeve, on the arm of a shallow, pretty, band boy who plays badly and loudly. But she laughs louder, though tthe sound is low and unconvincing if anyone bothered to listen hard enough, and Tommy wonders if he has enough dark hair dye left for when that boy breaks her heart.

Jupiter Lee

Tommy is proud to watch Jupiter on stage, but he is afraid.

Their anger is something he remembers from Lola, the way they cling to the past with vitriol echoes their mother, but on stage, they drink up the attention, get high off the love the audience gives, and he sees himself in those moments.

A child of addicts, Jupiter had drawn lines in the sand for themselves that they refused to cross; no alcohol, no drugs, and they'd stayed loyal to that. But highs come in all forms; they simply picked a different kind of poison without realising.

On stage, halfway between the gutter and a god complex, Tommy knows the smile they wear all too well.

Rebellion from Jupiter didn't shock the world like it did when it was Penny's name in the papers. Jupiter's trajectory was spot on in the eyes of the public, but rebellion wouldn't be the thing that broke them.

Once, so long ago that it's a miracle the memory survived, Tommy remembers asking Lola what she would be doing if she wasn't with the band. Lola gave him an easy, bleary smile, laughing sweetly when she told him that one way or another, she'd be here. In the moment it overwhelms him with love. In hindsight it breaks his heart.

"Come on, I think this is inevitable," Jupiter smiles on television as an interviewer asks them the same question; if they weren't making music what they'd be doing, "as if I'd do anything other than this."

'Don't you know where I come from?' is left unspoken, but Tommy still hears it.

He tries to picture himself in a life without the world at his feet the way he has now. No image comes to mind. Nothing else makes sense. Even if he wanted to do something else, wanted to grow up to be something else, he couldn't even begin to picture it for himself, tragedy and all.

They play their parts. They let history repeat itself. Jupiter makes mistakes Tommy and Lola had already learned from. Penny plays Jupiter's conciousness until the role grates on her nerves, diving head first into chaos, taking Jupiter with her with little convincing.

Tommy remembers this too.

When the world looks at Penny and Jupiter, they like to remember how Lola was seen as a bad influence on Charlotte, but forget that Tommy would have followed Charlotte in to Hell without hesitation.

Leo "Seo" Sixx

Lola has google alerts set up for her son, Seo, because he disappears for months without warning. Tommy asks how he is, and Lola looks to her phone with a tight smile, telling him that he's competeing in a skateboarding competition in Prague. She learned that from Twitter.

Seo comes and goes without warning, and talks to his siblings more than his parents. He loves them, but he hasn't allowed himself to stop for years. He doesn't know how. Then again, neither did Lola or Nikki.

"Jupiter thinks a lot about legacy, don't they?" He's in Tommy's kitchen, eating a poptart, when Tommy returns home one friday evening. He's waiting for Penny and Jupiter to finish getting ready, the three of them going out.

"Do your parents know you're in town?" Tommy asks with faint amusement, though there's a twinge of guilt in his gut when Leo considers that he should probably let them know. Says he forgot. Tommy's not sure if he believes him; like his parents before him, he tends to leave a lot unsaid. It's part of his charm, the world seems to think, but Tommy knows all to well how deliberate of an act it can be.

"Jup's got all this stuff in their head about legacy and who they should be," he continues his earlier thought, "which I guess makes sense, they tie a lot of themselves up in their identity," he shrugs, then, "I don't know Leo."

Tommy's not sure if he's talking about the grandfather he's named after, or himself.

"You've given this a lot of thought," Tommy says quietly, humouring him.

"I think a lot," Seo responds, "I've been thinking about going back on my meds, its weird being off of them." Of course this concerns Tommy, who knows objectively that Seo isn't his kid, but he's close enough that Tommy feels like he's allowed to be concerned. "I'm worried a doctor's note isn't going to be enough to let me compete at the Olympics on speed," falls too casually from Seo's lips, alarming Tommy in an instant. Though it must clearly show on his face, as Seo breaks out into an apologetic grin, "dextroamphetamine, for my ADHD. I've been trying to wean off it for the Olympics, it's been hard -" but his next words, said so blithe, so casual, have Tommy's heart stopping in his chest as he's thrown back thirty years, "I've been on them since I was like eleven years old; it was great, I could think, like the right amount, but now I... I think everything. I feel everything. Its a lot." He shrugs, like he didn't just become an echo of his father.

Seo's parents both died twice from overdoses, and now their son feels like he can't function without amphetamines.

Objectively Tommy knows that they work for Seo, that he's not abusing them he simply uses them to help him function, but the irony is not lost on him. It's a lot to unpack. He doesn't think to ask about the Olympics; it slips his mind until he sees Seo and a silver medal on his Twitter feed.

Lola calls Tommy in tears. She's proud, but she wishes she'd known, wishes she'd been able to watch it live, or go over and support him in person.

No-one in Seo's life seems to fully know or understand his intentions or actions, no-one can predict his next move. He puts up a bright facade, but like his parents before him, he does not trust the world to know him.

They don't know where he goes in the few months after the Olympics, all they know is that he doesn't come home.

Cerie "CerieThree" Sixx

Since she'd turned sixteen, Tommy has never seen Cerie Sixx without a smile. That is a very deliberate choice that she's made.

She's made a choice to rise above the percieved grime of her origins. She's halfway across the country, smiling for a camera she can control, editing her image before she lets it out into the world. Cerie Three - even the name the world knows reflects this; she's picked apart the context she was born into, disecting it, deciding which was useful to show the world, disposing of the rest.

She speaks warmly to her family, from what Tommy can gather, but the people on the peripheries of their life seem more like associates in the coldest sense of the world. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes half the time when she sees Tommy, and she shakes his hand when her brothers will hug him. The internet is closer to her than he is.

Cerie looks the most like her mother of all her siblings; she's 21, the exact same age Lola was when she met Tommy, but half the time he can barely see the resemblence. Lola had let the world see a villain at that age; Cerie had learned from that, had rejected that, rejected the cold, hard humanity of her mother's fronting. Cerie wanted to be perfect. Cerie had to be perfect, hyper aware of her own image, like her siblings seem to be, but the way she'd so effectively shaped her public identity was kind of terrifying.

Perhaps this was what it was like for people who didn't know Lola, only allowed to know the image she put out into the world, or people who only knew Nikki for his stage presence.

But the more Tommy thinks about it, the more he remembers just how effectively Lola had wrapped the band around her little finger when she set her mind to it, how she talked her way around exectives despite being dressed like she'd woken up in the gutter and fucked up on any number of drugs. Lola understood people, and it seemed Cerie did too.

Cerie Sixx, twenty one, doesn't stop creating content, doesn't stop studying, and doesn't stop smiling. Two of those three things are inhereted traits, inhereted determination, and the third is a choice.

Cyrus Sixx

Though Cyrus had inhereted much of his parent's musical talent, the same way Jupiter had, Cyrus had also inhereted a love of the high life. Even so, he's so full of love, kissing his mother on both cheeks before he goes out to get shitfaced in the bars she was decades before he was even born.

He works hard, at his job, on his music, but his partying matches it just as well. He knows exactly how far he has to fall before he meets the depths his parents' had sunk to, and though he doesn't voice this, his arrogance comes across in his actions.

There'd always be someone to pull him away from swan diving to rock bottom. He takes that for granted, and keeps getting closer and closer.

The only one of Nikki and Lola's children who still lives at home, he's the only one like them in the way they'd feared.

"He's going to have more success than he will ever be able to comprehend," Nikki had told Tommy, the day after Cyrus had been admitted to hospital after staying up for four days while high and obsessing over a song he had been working on. Nikki had found him having a fit after having fallen from his desk chair. Now, sitting on Tommy's patio in the sunset, he looks tired, he looks afraid, "if he doesn't end up killing himself first."

A month ago, the fire department and the police had to pull him, kicking and screaming and bareass naked from a tree in the middle of town. His parents had bailed him out, had felt a familiar sting of guilt as they find themselves reminded of their own youthful exploits. They repremand him, of course, but they both know the only reason they stopped climbing trees was because there had been no-one to pick them up after.

Nikki sees himself in his sons mistakes, but he'd had to learn concequences the hard way.

Tommy loves his family and all it's strange branches, as well as their raucous youth, but his closest friends were some of the most volatile people he'd known, and somehow he'd forgotten that as time as taken people and memories from him.

But these children were made in their image.

[avungerthatgotaway]

Baby it's the Sign of the Times

Eyoo guyzz! This is a new oneshot, I hope you like this❄ I'm currently rewriting my Hawkeye fic, so I'm not gonna post that one for a little. This one is a bit longer than my previous ones.

I totally recommend you to listen to this song while reading, even if you're not a fan of Harry's. It will really help the mood.

I don't own anything, even tho I'd like to have a few... choice words with Russo brothers about endgame...👍🏼🤔

Warnings: none

Summary: events when Peggy dies, mainly before Steve goes to London, and you comfort him. (I know it's stupid summary, but I don't want to spoil it, sorry)

Genre: angst

I don't mention civil war at all. No other avengers are at Peggy's funeral. There are no romantical pairings, and Sharon is not mentioned cuz she doesn't fit in the storylineeee.

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

She's gone.

In her sleep.

This words crushed Steve inside. He knew this was coming, but he'd never be ready for it, no matter what.

When he came from ice, he met her again. He knew they could never be together. No matter his actual age, Steve still had a full life in front of him. Unfortunately, same couldn't be told for Peggy.

Oh Peggy... She was always his ray of sunshine. Even through darkest of days. It is a cliché, but she was.

Was.

She is gone now.

Why did she have to go? Why didn't he get to spend a life with her? Steve's biggest wish was, and always will be, to spend a happy life with her. He didn't want any of this famous captain shit. He wanted a house in a village and 2 kids with Peggy. And a little dog. Or they'd be of service, and fight next to each other. Nevermind, Steve wanted a life with Peggy. For them to watch each other go grey. Maybe he could've been there for her as a husband now, through her sickness. Or maybe he'd be the one to go first. But still, that'd be a life...

One tear slipped down his rosy cheek, the other one following. Soon he had tearstains on his cheeks, but he didn't care. It was a silent cry. Those carry the most pain.

"Eyo, capsicle! You good there?" Tony snapped him outta his thoughts. Steve forgot the whole team was in the room. Fortunately, he was turned, so they were facing his back. He just couldn't talk to anyone right now.

"Yea yea, I'm good. I gotta go." he quickly got up and exited the room. He climbed up the stairs 2 more floors, but his toughts started haunting him again.

He's going on a plane tomorrow morning to say goodbye for the last time. Oh God, even thinking of a last time kills Steve inside. It's pretty late, but he didn't know what to do until morning. Sleeping wasn't an option, he knew that much. He gave in to overthinking again.

Of Peggy. Of her life. Of what could've happened if he didn't freeze...

"Just stop your crying, it's a sign of the times..."

"...welcome to the final show..."

"...I hope you're wearing your best clothes..."

Steve heard a silent piano in the background, and he heard an angelic voice. He still had tearstained cheeks, but he needed to hear what the voice had to say.

"...you can't bribe the door on your way to the sky..."

He was still clutching his cellphone in his hand, while following the voice. He came in front of Y/N's room. Y/N was a 16 year old avenger. She was very mature and wise for her age.

Her door was opened, and he just leaned against the doorframe, listening to her beautiful voice.

"...if we never learn, we been here before..."

"... why are we always stuck and running from the bullets..."

"...they told me that the end is near..."

Steve was crying a river at this point, and he didn't care. First shock was wearing out, and silent cries became little sobs. Yet, not loud enough for Y/N to hear.

"...just stop your crying, baby it'll be alright..."

"...we got to get away..."

She played final chords on piano, and then she turned around.

2nd person POV

You were singing "Sign of the times" and playing your piano. You loved this song. It was helping you relax, the melody was perfect. During the few last, silent piano chords, you tought you heard something. You softly finished and turned around. It was Steve.

But not the Steve you knew. This one had red puffy eyes, swollen from crying. He was sobbing quietly, trying to stop the sobs, but he couldn't.

You slowly came up to him, like to a wounded animal. He was just so hurt, you could see it in his eyes. You felt bad for him, but you wanted to know what happened. Who could hurt Stevie so badly.

"What happened, Big Guy?" you asked him. Steve just kept on sobbing even harder.

You moved him a little, so he was in your room, and you closed the door. You lead him to your bed, and sit on it, next to him. He was clutching his phone tightly in his hand, so you lifted his hand and gently tried to take it. He wouldn't let it go. You don't wanna pressure him, but whatever is on that phone is causing him this much distress.

"Stevie, cmon big babe" you cooed and rubbed the back of his hand with your thumbs. It may sound strange so someone, but Stevie really was like a big baby, so fluffy and vunerable inside.

He gave in and the phone just slipped from his hand in yours. You read the text and everyting was clear right away. You knew he went to visit Peggy in hospital, you didn't know she was this bad. I mean, Steve and you were close, but still that's too personal. You felt sooo sorry for him. He didn't deserve it. Not now. Not ever.

"Ohh, I'm so sorry Stevie..."

You immidiately hugged him close to you. He burried his head in your shoulder and neck, crying his eyes out, but at the same time trying not to cry. At least not to sob.

"Stevie, bear, it's okay to cry. Just let it all out."

That was all he needed. He started crying and sobbing uncontrollably, and your shirt was soaked in his tears. You didn't mind it tho, if it'll help him to feel better afterwards, he can cry as much as he needs.

After some time he lifted his head and looked into your eyes with his puffy baby blues.

"I'm sorry, Flower, I-I ju-ust can't believe s-s-she's go-one-e" he was still crying. You could see how much Peggy meant to him. You hugged him again, tugging at his hair softly to comfort him.

"Hey, hey no need to apologise Stevie. You cry yourself out, it'll help you. I'm here for you, Bear."

"T-tha-ank you. A-and and please... ca-can you-u not tell a-anyone about he-er ye-et..."

"Shhhh, Bear, I won't tell anyone about her. You wait until you're ready." you whispered.

You understood him. Not everyone in the team knew Peggy existed. And now telling them that she died, and what happened with them would be too much for Steve.

"T-thanks"

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay." you whispered. You whispered to soothe him, you didn't know what to do when someone's loved one dies. But you wanted to be there for Steve so badly. Little did you know that what you did was just perfect for Steve.

-

Steve at first felt ashamed, because he cried in front of Y/N. But she talked just enough, whispering soothingly. He didn't have streinght to act like a big guy anymore. He craved comfort so badly, and he got it from Y/N. It felt nice.

-

Back to 2nd person POV

Something was bothering you. Steve didn't want anyone to know about Peggy's death which meant he was probably going to funeral alone. You didn't want that for him. At least he needed someone to be with afterwards. You knew Steve and how sensitive he was. You didn't want to think of things going through his head while he's alone after funeral. But if it was in London, as you tought it was, you had a plan.

"Stevie?" you said quietly playing with his hair a little.

"Mhm?" he asked, face still in your shoulder.

"When is Peggy's funeral? Is anyone going with you?" you asked. He lifted his head a little.

"T-tomorrow. L-london. And no. It's too much-h t-trouble for anyone. And I know it is Y/N, do-don't try to o--object" he smiled through his tears. You smiled back at him, your own eyes glistening with tears a little, but you didn't want him to notice.

He burried his head in your shoulder and neck again, like it was his safeplace, and he just cried. You couldn't imagine where those tears come from.

You softly stroked his short blonde locks, and started singing.

"Just stop your crying, it's the sign of the times...

...welcome to the final show

...I hope you're wearing your best clothes..."

Half into the song, you felt more weight on your shoulder. You looked down, and realised Steve fell asleep. You pressed one kiss to his temple, and moved him, so he was lying in your bed.

"Good night, Stevie Bear." you whispered.

-

When you exited your room quietly, you immediately called your best friend, Jon.

It was 2am, but you and Jon were just the best friends, you could call him whenever, and other way around.

Him and his family were going to London, and he invited you to go with them. You declined the offer, because you had to study so. so. much. But this was way more important.

"Heey, Jonny. Is that London offer still on?

Great. When are you going?

Ohhh, in 2 hours?

Yea, I'll be there. Thanks

And by the way, I'll have somewhere to go to tomorrow, around 4pm, I hope you guys don't mind.

Ohh cool. Thank you bruhhhh. Byee"

Great news. They still had a plain ticked to spare, and they'll pick you up soon.

You quickly packed your stuff, careful not to wake up Stevie. Poor baby. With everything he's been through, and now his Peggy dies...

You tell JARVIS to tell Tony you're in your friends house, and to wake up Steve 'round 6am. His flight was in 7. You knew this, and which Church it was in at what time because you did a little research. Aka, asked JARVIS for help. AI already heard everything, so it wasn't news.

You left the tower and went to meet up with Jon and his family.

-

Steve woke up by alarm ringing at 6am. He immediately realised he's not in his room. He was in Y/N's. And then he remembered how you comforted him. He was so thankful for you. Even though, you weren't here, and it was confusing. You probably went to sleep on the couch, or in some other room, and Steve felt bad about it. He quickly got ready, and tried to find you, so he could get you back to your bed. Fortunately JARVIS easened his search.

"Mr. Rogers, ms. L/N went on a trip with her friend a few hours ago."

"Oh. Thanks JARVIS." Steve said, and left the building. You didn't mention any trips, but then again, you two didn't talk anything except Peggy tonight.

-

(timeskip to Peggy's funeral, cuz no one wants to listen about the trip now)

-

3rd person POV

It's so devastating to attend a funeral on your own.

Even more so if it's a funeral of your lost loved one.

Maybe Steve should've brought someone with him. For comfort. At least to feel the familiar presence. He carried Peggy's coffin, and it was enough to make him feel empty and sad. It was nearing to the end of funeral, and Steve didn't want to be alone. He wanted comfort. Like when Y/N comforted him last night.

After the ceremony ended, he stayed behind a little. He craved someone's presence. Anyone familiar. And then he felt a smal hand on his shoulder. He turned around, and it was Y/N. At first, he tought he was hallucinating. But her petite hand on his shoulder felt so real. He felt so grateful for this small human being at the moment, he just wanted to thank God over and over for having her with him.

"Y/N, Flower, what are you doing here?" he asked, still in shock.

"Hey Bear. I figured out you could use some company after the funeral. But if you wanna be alone, I understand, I'll go."

"No no, I mean, if you can stay, it would mean a world to me. You really know me better than I know myself sometimes Y/N. Thank you so much, Flower." he said, and immediately came for a hug. You hugged back, of course.

"I'll stay for as long as you want, Bear. I'm here for you, as long as you want me to stay."

"I want you to stay forever kiddo" he mumbed in your hair.

"Forever it is."

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

@afictionaladventure16 @rae-is-typing @elles-writing @avengersarchive @avengersuniverse

[fyeahnix]

Title: Puppy Love - Part 1 Pairing: Bangalore/Wraith (Voidstrike) Other Characters: None Rating: General Audiences Words: 1875 Prompt: None Other Tags: Cute, Oblivous, Crush, Dogs, Flirting, Friendship Summary: "If Wraith had nothing better to do, she'd be lying under the air conditioning back at her apartment. But here she is out in the eternal Solace summer and misery, sans scarf, in shorts and a tank top ready to start her evening workout routine. ...Or she would have been if she hadn't received the oddest text from Anita. She stares at her phone now, rereading the messages exchanged only an hour ago."

If you like it PLEASE REBLOG. You can read it here or on AO3, via the link found in the notes of this post. Please read on AO3 if you prefer correct formatting!

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It's hot as hell out right now. The evening air is humid, a sticky and suffocating mess of sweltering heat, moisture, pollen, and biting insects. And the people? Running around and playing under the setting sun with their kids and pets, some visibly glistening with sweat. It's gross. If Wraith had nothing better to do, she'd be lying under the air conditioning back at her apartment. But here she is out in the eternal Solace summer and misery, sans scarf, in shorts and a tank top ready to start her evening workout routine.

...Or she would have been if she hadn't received the oddest text from Anita. She stares at her phone now, rereading the messages exchanged only an hour ago.

hey

meet me at the park at 6? got someone I want you to meet

Sure?

It's 6:05. She's sitting on the top of a park bench cooking in the heat, and Anita is nowhere to be found. Great. It's a fairly random text as it is, and Wraith doesn't see why Anita needed to meet now. She knows this is Wraith's time to work out.

Who on Solace is this important? Better yet, who is this person at all? A new friend? Couldn't be. Anita's fairly closed-off, doesn't make friends that quickly or easily. Getting comfortable around the other Legends was enough of a chore. Could it be a significant other, girlfriend maybe? Well, she hopes not. The thought tugs her insides. Of course, she'd be happy for Anita, but…

Whatever. It's not that serious. Whoever it is must be important enough for Anita to meet up with Wraith specifically. Wait, was she the only person asked? Anita doesn't normally send group chats, though. But… no one else is here and it's 6:07. Ugh, god, she's thinking too much about this and this weather isn't helping and it's getting harder to breathe with the nervous lump stuck in her throat-

"Hey! Come back here! Sentry!"

Anita?

Wraith turns, eyes widening as a massive black ball barrels towards her at full speed on four legs. She throws her arms up to protect herself as Anita yells again.

"Sentry, sit!"

Nothing knocks into her, and when Wraith lowers her arms, she makes eye contact with a rather large black dog not five feet away from the park bench. It's stopped in its tracks, large ears and tail standing at attention, as its face twists in a confused expression. It bows, butt in the air and tail wagging before lying down in the grass, wet tongue hanging loosely from its mouth.

Anita ambles up to the canine and kneels to clip on the leash that's wrapped around her fist. When she stands, she half-smiles in apology and leans forward with an arm outstretched.

Wraith dismounts the bench to accept the quick hug. The woman smells good, a familiar cologne gracing Wraith's senses. It's better than the heavy stench of outdoor humidity, that's for sure.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. This little knucklehead can't keep still today." Anita unravels the leash twice from her fist, relaxes. She huffs, lifting the hem of her tank top to wipe sweat off her forehead.

"I, uh-" Wraith's eyebrows raise ever-so-slightly at the welcome sight, but she doesn't allow her eyes to linger. "Didn't know you were a dog sitter."

Anita smirks, this time mischievous and lopsided. "That what you think?"

"I suppose. By the way, where is this person I'm supposed to be meeting? Is it a secret girlfriend I don't know about? Gonna pop out from behind a tree somewhere?"

Anita laughs and shakes her head as she kneels next to the dog. "First off, I don't have a girlfriend. Not yet anyway. And secondly, I never said it was a person, Wraith."

"Then- wait. When did you get a dog?"

The animal in question tilts its head at Wraith like it understands and objects to every word she says. Anita pets it, rubs it on the head and coos at it with praise before she responds. It's oddly cute. And very unexpected.

"His name's Sentry. Got him a couple months ago. Didn't wanna spill about it because I wanted some time to get used to him. And I… wanted you to meet him first."

Wraith's belly flutters at the statement. But her out of everyone they know?

She kneels next to Anita and studies the dog. Sentry's much bigger up close than she thought. He's covered in a shiny coat of short fur, solid black all over, and his pointed ears stand at attention, flicking this way and that to take in the sounds of people walking by. His eyes are a nice shade of light brown, intelligent but unfocused on anything in particular. The dog who very nearly knocked her over mere minutes ago lies relaxed in the grass without a care in the world.

"Rescue dog?"

Anita nods half-heartedly. "In a way. Got some people I know back on Gaea. Said some of their dogs failed police training and were up for adoption. This little guy couldn't stay out of trouble."

"Little? Bang, he's huge."

"Yeah, he is," Anita laughs. "First family couldn't handle his size with their kids. Apparently, he grew faster than they could keep up with. Second person couldn't deal with his temperament."

Wraith purses her lips. "Third time's the charm, I'd hope."

"Heh, yeah. It will be. Two months in, and I'm already in love with him. He's almost two. Still actin' like a damn puppy, but, god, I love him," Anita sighs, exhales, and Wraith's heart tugs at the pure emotion emanating from the woman's voice.

Wraith sits on the edge of the bench, crossing her legs. "Didn't quite take you for an animal lover."

"I think that's a stretch," Anita chuckles. "We had dogs growing up when I was a kid. Military household. Strict but fair. But… we all let our guards down for the pups." Anita moves to sit next to Wraith, leans forward to rest her arms on her knees. She stares out into the park, watching crowds of people bask in what's left of the sun. Sentry gets up as well and lies back down in front of her, panting. She loosens the leash again. "We had two of 'em.

"Two big boys. Angelo was a mutt. Probably an Australian Cattle Dog and Great Dane mix from what we could tell, maybe a little Pit in 'im, too. Loyal as hell. Healthy dog. Ghost was a German Shepherd. Same as this boy." She nods towards Sentry. "Pure white. A bit of a troublemaker, if anything, but still good. Me and Ghost… same age. Inseparable." She pauses, laughs a little, wistful. "I had a connection with that dog. Still do on some level. He died old, when we were fourteen. Right before my bro-"

She stops and scrunches her nose, screws her eyes shut for two seconds. "You know what? Nevermind. Not important."

Wraith doesn't know what to say. Anita doesn't make eye contact. Whatever she hesitated mentioning must have been too personal to share. Understandable.

"Anyway. I'm glad I brought him home. He means a lot to me. And I'm… glad you met him, too."

Why her, though? Sure, they're friends, have hung out plenty. They've had rounds at the firing range before matches, developed duos tactics together, gone out for celebratory dinner after wins and whatnot. She's sure Anita's done that with… everyone, right?

She can't imagine she's any more or less of a friend to Anita than any of the other Legends. Anita and Witt talk frequently enough. She and Ajay also hang out sometimes. Hell, she's even gotten drinks with Octavio when he can sit down for long enough. Why Wraith?

When Wraith shifts in her seat, Sentry focuses on her, rising to walk towards her. His tail wags behind him as he drags his wet, leathery nose across her arms and over her thighs. He shakes, tail flailing even harder. She can't help but crack a small smile and hover a hand over his head, which he sniffs enthusiastically.

"You can pet him if you want. Promise he won't bite," Anita says.

Wraith nods and lowers her hand to Sentry's head. She rubs him, scratches him on the forehead and behind the ears with short nails. His tail calms, and he shuts his eyes as he sits back on his haunches.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?"

He nods, tongue lolling as if agreeing as she rubs both ears with her hands.

Wraith smiles and turns to Anita. "Not to brag, but I think he might actually like me."

"Heh. Guess that makes two of us."

Wraith raises an eyebrow. She stops petting Sentry, and he whines, nudging her arm. The comment is slick and unexpected, typical Anita, but…

"I-"

"You, uh- you busy tomorrow? Thought maybe we could grab coffee or lunch or something."

That's why.

Wraith chuckles and smiles as her cheeks burn at the Voices from the Void. She gives Sentry a few thorough rubs on his cheeks. "I… actually am-"

Anita wipes a stray bead of sweat from her temple. "Oh. Well don't worry about it. Maybe some other-"

"-But. Let me… clear my schedule. I don't think it'll be a huge deal to move some meetings around tomorrow. Maybe you can bring Sentry along."

Anita finally turns to gaze at her. There's a subtle smirk gracing her features, that usual Bangalore bravado emanating from her. It's attractive, no lie.

"All right, I got you. I got a couple places in mind."

"Looking forward to it."

Anita rubs the back of her head with her leash hand as she lets out a short laugh and stands. "Well, I won't keep you. I gotta give this boy a walk so we can get out of this heat."

Sentry whines then barks once. Loud boy.

Wraith rubs him for the last time before she stands too. "Yeah, I better get to my workout. See you tomorrow?"

Anita opens up for another hug, which Wraith gladly accepts. "Yeah. I'll text you later."

This hug's tighter than the last, sets Wraith on edge a bit, but she doesn't want to pull away. Anita's bare, muscular arm feels good wrapped around her shoulders, her body warm in a way that stamps out the suffocating humidity. She can get used to this.

When the woman pulls away, she salutes Wraith and tugs on Sentry's leash to lead him away.

...Okay, so maybe Wraith's a little excited about tomorrow. And maybe she's been looking at Anita a bit… differently lately. It's nothing bad, right? The woman's tall and attractive and her personality is the type to simultaneously make Wraith roll her eyes and draw her in. She's charming, alluring, knowledgeable, helpful, and ten thousand other words Wraith can substitute. It'd be foolish to not give this a chance, wouldn't it?

She bites her lip, clutching her phone in her hand as she watches Anita fade into the distance. She needs to go workout and focus, but that'll be hard waiting in anticipation of tomorrow's lunch date. She doesn't think she'll sleep well tonight, if at all actually, but she'll certainly try, Solace heat be damned.

[scripttorture]

This blog is extremely helpful. Thank you for running it. I'm gonna try and be as detailed a si can be with this ask since that seems to help you, so forgive me if this runs a bit long. So I'm writing a fanfic in which my MC was in a mobile suit explosion at the end of a war, then captured by enemy troops and held until he was stabilized from his initial injuries, then was repeatedly sold off. Information on the MC: He's in his mid twenties, prior to the explosion he was in fair health, (1/?)

(2/?) He has a history of past childhood family abuse and bulimia but has been recovered from both for several years at the time of the explosion. His physical health is fairly good as he is a well trained and wealthy soldier. The explosion left him with extensive scare tissue and internal damage as well as some muscle damage in his legs, all of which were treated by his initial captors only to the extent of keeping him alive, not making his comfortable.Once he was passed on to new captors(cont.(3/?) (cont.) he was subject to several types of abuse common for prisoners of war: long-term starvation, basic beatings, periods of solitary condiment, sexual abuse, and psychological manipulation. For the last part, since he was being held and traded mostly by his direct enemies, he would be repeatedly told that he was a monster and other worse variations, and they would attempt to force him to hurt other soldiers from his own side and left him with their bodies, or force them to hurt him.(4/5) He would also be made to watch the news coverage of post war damage, and a subsequent war that occurred where his daughter (whom he was unaware of) was used as the "face" of the war. He has extreme guilt for his actions in the first war (as he provoked a lot of trouble and he was aware of it). He also did NOT plan on living through the first war. He survived by chance and because his enemies wouldn't let him die. And they used any information they could get on him and is past against him.(5/5) My questions for this: after he is rescued, would it be realistic for him to be able to put on an act some of the time that he's fine/indifferent, but have extremely low swings and periods of dissociation and self harm if he's triggered? What are some possible symptoms he could have that I may have overlooked/are underutilized in fiction? And what sort of care would best help him learn to function again? He does have a few people who have stood by him after the wars that could help him.

While I realise this probably isn’t the period and placementyou’re going for it’s reminding me a lot of the period immediately post WorldWar 1 in Europe. A lot of people came back with pretty deep psychologicaldamage and that was the first time European society really attempted toconfront it. The ‘treatment’ of veterans with mental health issues was reallynot pretty. There was widespread lack of understanding and sympathy.

Conversely the treatment of physical injuries was pretty good for the time. Popular feeling inmany European countries after the War was strongly in favour of giving veteransthe best possible care. Institutions to help the disabled sprung up quickly anda lot more effort than before was put into helping disabled people remainemployed or learn new skills.

 If you’re based in the UK the Science Museum in London has anexhibit particularly on injuries in WW1, both psychological and physical. Icertainly found it moving and inspiring (though more Curie would always begood). If you’ve got any chance to access it you might as well.

 Back on topic-

 It seems to me that if he wascoming across as fine/indifferent initially that probably indicatesdissociation. It sounds like you’re having him swing from dissociating (andhence ‘looking’ fine) to depressive. That’s a perfectly reasonable pattern ofsymptoms.

 ScriptTraumaSurvivorhas a spread sheet designed to help people keep track of their character’strauma symptoms. You might find it useful. Icertainly found a testing-version useful.

 In terms of under-used symptoms, well honestly there are a lot but I’m going to narrow them down tothe ones that fit what you’ve already described about the character’sresponses.

 With depression particularly I think the physical symptoms are under used in fiction. A common symptom isnausea and difficulty eating. Stomach pains and intestinal trouble are alsopretty common. A feeling of lethargy is common, being tired and yet havingtrouble sleeping. And I think all of these fit pretty well with your scenario.

 At the risk of over-sharing I threw up a lot during my first major depressive episode. I got nausea prettybadly, but I was hungry and/or actually enjoying my food. The result was Itried to eat a ‘normal’ amount for me when I couldn’t manage it and I’d bringit all back up within ten minutes. It took months to figure out how to managethat. (Smaller meals and more of them, plus bland foods. In the meantime I was constantly hungry).

 I’ve never seen a character written with depression manifestthose symptoms. But apparently it isvery common.

 Another symptom of depression that I don’t see very often infiction is the character being….apathetic and lethargic to the point of notbeing able to get out of bed. I’ve seen this in real life but I’ve never seenit in fiction. This would especially tie in if his depression makes itdifficult for him to take care of himself and where he lives.

 A symptom that’s rarely used and fits with dissociation (andself-harm) is……..particularly extravagant self harm fantasies. Things that gobeyond self harm and into self mutilation. Wanting to amputate a limb, orbreak/crush it. Wanting to cut off the nose, scar the face, sew up the lips anddrill a hole in the back are all examples I’ve heard of.

 This can be separate to thedrive for pain that feeds self-harm and more about body image or ratherdisconnection from body image. The character may not feel a strong desire to carry out these fantasies or attemptthem but have repeated intrusive thoughts about, for example, cutting off theirarm.

 You’re giving a strong impression that this character hasvery low self-worth and self-esteem. Following the sort of ordeal he’s beenthrough that’s normal. He might havevery narrow ideas about what he’s ‘good for’. I know that turns up in fiction alot but it does so for a reason.

 I’ve been talking to ScriptTraumaSurvivor about triggersquite a lot over the past few weeks. Theyhave a post on them here, which you might find useful.

 Issues with hygiene are another symptom that comes up a lotin real life but not in fiction. The character suddenly not caring about hisclothes, hair, when he last showered- Not keeping his living space clean andtidy is more commonly how that’s shown.

 Irrational fear of everyday objects (or being triggered bythem) is another one that I’ve not seen come up. I’ve not seen a characterdevelop a fear of the shower, even if they’ve been through something that mightmake confined spaces a problem.

 You said he’s rich. He might well throw a lot of money intotrying to get rid of his injuries and scars. Things like that can serve aspotent physical reminders of what happened. But…money and the best surgeons inthe world won’t necessarily be able to wipe it all away in the sense he mightwant. Surgery, physio and the like take timeand aren’t always successful.

 I’ve seen a couple of things in fiction where people havecovered scars with tattoos in an effort to reclaim them, which does happen inreal life. It probably has a better prognosis than extensive surgery to reducescars that are already pretty old.

 Memory problems also rarely seem to show up in fiction butare hugely common in real life. Or perhaps more accurately the way memory problems show up in fictionisn’t accurate to real life. Victims rarely forget who they are or key elementsof their past (ie childhood before torture). They don’t forget their names orwhere they live.

 But they do oftenstruggle to learn new skills. They often have trouble remembering details oftheir abuse, or conversely remember it in great(but not necessarily accurate) detail. He may have forgotten a lot of littlethings about his friends and family, which could be distressing especially withhis already low self worth (how couldhe forget his best friend’s birthday when they’re so much better than he deserves?Etc-).

 He might have forgotten things about his hobbies. He may wellbe constantly forgetting little things like his keys, or what someone asked himto do that morning and that can feed into someone feeling ‘useless’ or likethey’re ‘going mad’.

 I think….in order to make the symptoms you’re using seem realyou should have him try to reduce contact with the people who care about him.Have him avoid people sometimes and try to reduce contact to....contact on his terms. This means the time periods when he ‘seems fine’are….balanced by long stretches when no one has seen him. The less direct contact timehe has the more likely he’ll be able to come across as normal.

 As to the last part-

 Recovery take a long time and it’s never easy. This charactercan and should access professional help (you should take a look at ScriptShrink’sblog to see what that might look like).

 Having a support network is incredibly important though.Having friends and family who won’t judge him: a character he can rely on toturn up at 3am if he phones because he’s having nightmares, someone else who’swilling to come by every day and make sure he at least eats breakfast. Thatsort of thing.  

 There isn’t a….agreed on treatment method for torture. Weare, to be frank, making this shit up as we go. At the moment we just don’t know.

 But this was a war. And that means this character was not alone. His experience will havebeen shared by other veterans andthere are likely to be groups and societies of these people. Seeking them out(perhaps with encouragement from his friends) could well help.

 It could help put his feelings and experiences inperspective: he isn’t going mad, other people are having these memory problems,he isn’t useless other people have the same low self-esteem.

 I hope that helps, I realise the treatment and recovery stuffis a little vague. A strong support network, shared experience,professional help and being believedwhen he says he was raped/tortured- those are all important. With all of themtogether he’d have a relatively good chance of recovery and learning to livewith his symptoms.

 Oh and if this is a Marvel/Iron Man fic, I’d very much like alink when you’re done.  

Disclaimer

[daesungindistress]

I've just read about your friend. I'm concerned for her, but I'm much more concerned for the woman she's stalking. My mom had a stalker ~10 yrs ago & she ended up with PTSD due to the things the stalker did (which is similar to what ur friend is doing). I know u may not want to get involved, but if there is a way to warn this woman, u could save her a bunch of trouble & possibly even her life. I'm sorry if this ask puts u off or anything. I just don't want anyone to go through what my mom did :/

Thanks for your concern. Putting this reply under a Read More. I rambled a bit… a lot. I’m sorry.

No worries, it’s not off-putting to me because it’s a very real concern, and one that I have given a lot of thought to, myself. I would like to do something to possibly warn her or make her aware, but I don’t even know the woman’s name. As much as my friend has talked my ear off about her over the past several months, she has always been careful never to use a name. And even if I were to, say, hack into my friend’s Facebook account to gain that information (which I’m super uncomfortable even thinking about), it wouldn’t help; she’s been primarily using a fake account to “communicate with” (a.k.a. spy on) this woman, an account that’s completely unknown to me. And she’s gone now, so whoops, no more access to her computer to see if she has any login info saved (god, what an invasion of privacy. I feel gross even considering it).

There are times lately when I’ve found myself thinking, “The longer I can keep her here the longer I can keep not only her safe, but this woman she’s pursuing as well.” The thought of her possibly tearing apart that family tears me up. But soon even that wasn’t enough for me to really try to keep her around. And now that she’s out, I’d be hard-pressed to take her back. As I learned last night, she’s become unsafe to live with, simply because she’s not living in reality anymore and lacks discernment. So deep in her delusion that she fully believed it was her “crush” reaching out to her under a fake account, she gave out a lot of personal info the other day, including her income, where she works, and the city where we live, to a complete stranger on Facebook. It was only after said stranger began making increasingly gross, sexual comments to her that she realized maybe it wasn’t her crush after all.

Had it gone on much longer she could have eventually brought a predator to our door. Unlikely, but it actually wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened (”How ‘bout that peeping tom last summer?” I wish I’d said to her. It’s as if she’s forgotten all about it. Of course she has; she wasn’t the one working with the local police along with a detective in the city’s Sex Crimes Unit to catch the guy. Nope, that was me. I was working on Carnivores the first time I saw him at my window, come to think of it… I was so angry. And yes, I do hold my friend at least partly responsible for that, though I won’t go into why because this is long enough already.)

It’s so frustrating because this has all happened before, about 2.5 years ago. It happened, not coincidentally, when she got off her meds. The only notable difference is that the person my friend had fixated on back then had at least talked to her on Facebook for a short time… before she blocked her. And even after being sent to jail, slapped with a stalking charge and a restraining order and utterly devoid of any real contact with that woman for over a year, she has continued to spy on her online and holds firmly to the belief that the woman still wants her but just can’t admit her love for a number of reasons.

My friend has always had an explanation on hand for why she was “rejected,” and it’s never been simply that the object of her affection just wasn’t interested. It’s been absolutely exhausting to hear about near daily over the last year and a half, and I’ve long since given up on trying to reason with her… until recently. (I’ll never forget the night she called me, many months after coming to live with me, crying her eyes out, sobbing, “She went back to her old girlfriend! She’s choosing her over me!”)

This woman, however, has never even replied to the one message my friend sent her months ago. And yet somehow my friend thinks they’ve been having this secret romance… Problem is, it would be incredibly difficult to prove what she’s been doing. She has always been careful not to leave a trail or any concrete evidence of her attempts to “talk” to this woman and her husband. Because there probably are next to none– no Facebook messages, no texts, no e-mails, no phone calls, no letters. Unless there are important things she hasn’t told me, a possibility for sure.

She’s essentially created her own language of symbolic imagery that she reads in the photos they’re ‘liking’ and sharing on their social media. She “replies” by ‘liking’ and sharing her own photos, believing that they’re watching her account as closely as she’s watching theirs. This is why I say these people almost surely aren’t even aware of her. I’m actually pretty good at understanding her metaphors and interpreting her often strange, seemingly random statements, but sometimes she makes these huge leaps that no one but her could ever hope to understand without a great deal of explanation. So yeah, difficult to prove. Until the day she shows up at that woman’s workplace (as she did before) and gets carted off by the police. Again.

I want to say, “She’s not violent!” because I truly believe she isn’t, but that would just be ignorant and is beside the point anyway. A stalker doesn’t have to be violent to instill fear in their victims. They just have to be there. Because no one ever really knows what they’re going to do, especially when they’re, well… ill.

I don’t know how it’s going to play out, but unless something drastic happens I fully believe she’s going to end up back in jail… eventually. She’ll lose her carload of belongings (not to mention the car itself), her credit will go down the drain again (despite my trying to help her rebuild it these last 18+ months). Maybe it will happen long before she ever makes contact with the woman she seeks. I won’t be surprised if it plays out that way. Saddened, but not surprised. A part of me almost hopes it does, if that’s what it takes to get her back on track. Better incarcerated than, you know, dead (or wreaking havoc on others’ lives).

I doubt we could get the police involved until she proves beyond a doubt to be a danger to herself or others. I don’t think she’s quite there yet… but give it time. If she doesn’t get back on her meds… Who knows. At least when she was here I could sort of keep an eye on things, much as it drove me up a wall; she shared so much with me, which was surprising given the number of times I told her I didn’t believe things were as they seemed and didn’t want to hear any more. Then the next day she’d be right back to talking about it casually like I’d never said anything. Really made my head spin sometimes.

I just don’t know.