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nolita-fairytale · 2 years

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make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter six: monday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, references to sex, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 3.4k

summary: it's your last full day in chicago and you and carmy talk about the future of your relationship.

a/n: wow can you believe we're in the home stretch? i have one more chapter for all of you that are reading about our loveable kitchen idiots, but i'm definitely not done with these two.

read: part five | masterlist

Monday

“What’re you doing?” he asks, his morning voice gruff with sleep, his comment making you laugh.

“You haven’t even opened your eyes. You don’t know if I’m doing shit,” you reply.

“Yes, I do. I can feel you,” he shoots back, peeking one eye open.

You’re tracing your fingertips along his little tattoos that run along his right arm, propped up on your side: the angels below his elbow, the little fish on the inside of his forearm, the snail right above his wrist, then finally, his chef’s knife-hand tattoo on the back of his hand.

“Stop, ‘s creepy,” Carmy groans, throwing one of his hands over his eyes.

“What?”

“You’re watching me sleep,” he grumbles, earning a laugh from you.

It’s the third morning in a row that you’ve woken up together, and as the morning light floods into his bedroom once again, he doesn’t have the heart to ask you to close the curtains. He can’t bear the idea of you getting out of bed and leaving his side. He makes a mental note to close the damn curtains better next time.

You giggle at his comment, beginning to to leave soft kisses up his arm, around his shoulder, across his chest, until he’s pulling you on top of him, a sleepy smile on his face.

He could get fuckin’ used to this.

“It’s not creepy,” you protest softly, in between kisses.

Instead of coming up with a smartass reply, all he says is:

“Morning.”

“Morning,” you answer, leaning down to kiss him.

You snuggle into him your legs wrapping around his hip as you rest your head on one side of his chest, curled up to his side.

“What do you want to do today?” he asks, rubbing his eyes, accepting that he’s going to have to get up eventually.

“Hmm.. well, you promised me a true Chicago date,” you prompt him.

“I did.”

You reach over, intertwining your fingers with his opposite hand this time, as you bring it up to your lips to kiss each letter tattooed on his knuckles: S, O, U.

Sense of urgency.

“This is new,” he says, holding your hand up to the light, taking a look at your most recent tattoo. It starts at your wrist and extends all the way down your forearm, stopping just underneath the crease of your elbow.

“Yeah, you don’t get to be the only cool one with ink,” you hit back, playfully. “I also have a new little one on my rib cage.”

“Yeah, I-, I noticed that,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk, knowing that he’s only seen it because he’s seen you naked.

“Oh you did, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He waits a beat before returning to the topic at hand. He turns his head towards you, your face only inches away from his now.

“Thought we could take a walking dumpling tour of Chinatown. You know… like we used to do,” he suggests.

Memories of your adventures up and down Mott St. and Bowery come flooding back to you and you can’t help but grin. You’re honestly glad he remembers.

“Sounds incredible.”

You wait a beat as the sobering reality of the day – your last day in Chicago – hits you.

“We should get up and shower,” you sigh, reluctantly.

If you weren’t such an overthinker, you’d stay in Chicago forever. Pay rent to Pete and Sugar on your airbnb till you could find a place. If this were a movie, or a fantasy, you wouldn’t even think twice. Hell, you wouldn’t even go back for your stuff in New York. As long as you could stay here, in this bed with this beautiful man, who needed a fuckin’ IKEA dresser?

But your brain is quickly flooded with questions, logistics, ‘what ifs’ that hold you back from your desire to be impulsive. You’re also freaking out. This feels so good – too good – it’s near terrifying. You can feel your self-saboteur creeping up within you, but you’re quick to squash that little voice in your head that takes your doubts too far.

“Yeah, we should,” he agrees. “You go ahead. I just wanna lay here for a second.”

“Meet me in there?” you ask, as you sit up for a quick peck on the lips.

He nods in response as you begin to move.

You groan as you force yourself up and out of bed, wearing only an old Original Beef Chicagoland t-shirt. You’d found it in the laundry basket with a bunch of other clean, yet unfolded clothes he hadn’t put away. The cold air hits your skin as you hiss at the impact. Carmy watches your every move, still convinced this is all a dream. You know exactly what you’re doing as you strip the t-shirt off, revealing your bare body underneath, tossing it on the floor and making your way to the bathroom.

“But don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

Carmy hears the sound of the water running and he shakes his head. You’re a piece of work – he’ll give you that. He sits up, wondering how any of this could be real.

You spend the rest of the day exploring Chicago and Carmy realizes it’s been quite some time since he explored the city he grew up in. So much has changed…. You’d taken a twenty five minute bus ride from River North down to Chinatown, and had allowed yourself just to roam. You had missed these grand adventures with him: from stops for pork dumplings, to arguing over who gets to pay the bill, to returning back to a community botanical garden you’d passed earlier.

“Wait. You’re not kidding?!” you exclaim at the outrageous statement he’s just made. “Noooo, no, no, no.Take it back!”

“Nope. No! I’m not taking it back,” he protests, stubbornly.

“Okay, don’t get me wrong,” you clarify. “Because the pork buns were good. But you can’t possibly think that there’s a better pork bun than… what was it called?”

“You can’t even remember the name,” Carmy scoffs, playfully. “How can it be that good then?”

“Oh fuck off. It was the place we liked, right next to that uh, that pharmacy with the green awning. Oh! And the menu was always printed on neon green paper taped in the window – no English, just pictures. You don’t remember?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

He certainly remembers, but he’s enjoying giving you a hard time.

“I’m just saying. I think they might be the best pork buns in the country.”

He shakes his head, sighing out your name.

“I don’t know. I think the entire population of San Francisco would take offense to that statement,” he challenges you.

“Well, we’re not talking about San Francisco, Carmen,” you point out, using his full name just to one up him.

“Hey uh. I don’t know if you noticed but… San Francisco is actually a part of this country,” he pushes back, being a smartass.

“Oh it is?” you reply back, sarcastically. “I had no idea. Thank you so much for enlightening me.”

The banter between the two of you is your favorite kind of foreplay. You’ve missed this.

He pauses, redirecting his attention to Chicago.

“So what?” he teases. “You're gonna come into my city and insult it like that? Okay. I see how it is.”

He holds the cigarette that’s previously been in between his index finger and middle finger back into his mouth now. You watch as it sits between his lips, deciding to push his buttons a little further.

“Jesus Christ,” you shake your head, playfully scoffing. “I can’t believe you’re smoking in a freakin’ community garden, Carmen.”

“What? We’re outside. I didn’t see a no-smoking sign when we came in. Shit…” he groans, somehow managing to keep the cigarette in between his lips.

“You gonna put it out?” you shoot back.

“No.”

“Well, fine. Then give me some,” you say, reaching for it.

“I thought you were trying to quit,” Carmy’s quick to rebut you, grabbing it out of his mouth and holding it above your head. He’s not that much taller than you, but you can tell he’s having a little too much fun with this game of keepaway.

“Carmy!” you exclaim with a laugh, pulling his arm down.

“No! You said you were trying to quit.”

“I never said that!” “Yes you did. You looked at me and you said, ‘I’m trying to cut back, Car.’”

“That doesn’t mean-. That’s not the same!”

“Yes, it is.”

“No it’s-, fuck you.”

He laughs, shaking his head before turning to you, almost as a challenge. He raises his eyebrows before asking:

“You really want to spend our last full day together arguing?”

“Well, when we’re so good at it…” you banter back, flirtatiously.

Finally… finally, he leans in to kiss you. You can taste the cigarette on his breath that you’d fought him so hard for. The both of you stop in the middle of the walkway, earning a few looks from a few people passing by. Carmy’s tries to fight the surprise he’s feeling – still trying to adjust to the fact that someone, let alone you, would want to kiss him in broad daylight.

You laugh, pulling away from the kiss before grabbing his arm as the two of you continue your walk along the carved out pathway.

He doesn’t want this to end.

He never wants this to end.

But his own words echo in his head – about this being your last day with him. Your week in Chicago is coming to an end, sending panic all throughout his body if he thinks about it for too long. He knows that all he has to do is say something – ask you to stay – and he’s not sure what he’s fucking waiting for. The words have built up within him, gotten stuck in his throat, and he’s swallowed them, scared absolutely shitless.

He can hear Mikey’s voice in his head as the words are on the tip of his tongue.

Let it rip.

Don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. You can’t let her go!

Let it rip, Carm.

With your fingers so gently intertwined between his, he can feel his hand getting clammy as he contemplates what he’s about to say.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” he blurts out, catching you off guard.

You stop. You’re not sure why you’re so surprised. You’ve been thinking about it too, afterall, but you half expected that you’d have to be the one to bring this up.

“I don’t want this to be the end either,” you confess, your voice soft as you lose yourself in the way he’s looking at you right now.

He’s relieved, almost surprised.

“You don’t?”

You shake your head, chuckling at his reaction.

“No, of course not! This is-, these past few days have been….”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a small smile threatening the corners of his lips.

“Yeah.”

You exchange glances, and how much you care for each other is evident in each others’ eyes.

“It’s just that-. Well. Do you-, do you want to… sit?” you suggest, gesturing towards one of the park benches.

He’s not sure why, but his stomach drops as he anticipates what you’re about to say. You seem serious… uncertain… even after what you both just said.

“Yeah, of… ‘course,” he stammers, following you as you lead him towards a park bench.

You take a seat, sitting side by side as you stare at the ground. His eyes are on you and he wonders why you’re avoiding his gaze. He rubs his palms together, feeling just how clammy they’ve gotten. He’s so fucking nervous he feels like he could jump out of his skin.

“I think. Well, I think that maybe we-. Well, I won’t speak for you but, I think maybe I’ve felt this way for you for a long time,” you begin, finally meeting his gaze with yours.

It’s just, if you look at him for too long, you may not say what you need to say.

“I think maybe… we were ignoring a lot of things. You know? Back in New York,” you continue, trying your best to articulate where your head's at.

“I don’t-, I really thought for a while we could just be friends. And I was okay with that. But then we slept together… and when you left New York, I guess I just realized how much of a space in my life you were filling for me… you know… the kind of space…” you pause, suddenly afraid to say the word, as if it’s going to send him running for the hills.

“... the kind of space a boyfriend would fill up, you know?”

Boyfriend.

Right.

“Woah,” Carmy sounds, hearing it out loud for the first time.

“Yeah. It feels just as weird to say.”

And suddenly, you feel shy.

You both take a beat. Carmy’s still hung up on the whole ‘boyfriend’ part, and you’re trying to figure out how best to proceed.

“I mean, am I just fucking crazy to think that-, I don’t know. That after one week of… and it’s only been a couple of days, of us, you know… doing this,” you stammer through.

“No, you’re not-, it’s not crazy for thinking that-,” he starts, before stopping again.

He wants you to say it: that you’ll stay. God, does he want you to say it.

And he also knows that he hasn’t asked you yet. Hell, he’s still reeling from you bringing up the word ‘boyfriend.’ It’s not like you can read his mind – know that he wants nothing more than to be your boyfriend.

“I want to make this clear first. I’m just-, I really want to be with you,” you say, speaking plainly enough, leaving no room for a misunderstanding. “But I don’t want to be presumptuous that you also-.”

“No I-.”

The words feel like boulders, falling out of his mouth.

“I want… that too.”

Let it rip, buddy.

Carmy’s opening his mouth to say something else, but you’ve beat him to the punch as you continue with,

“But… right now, we live in different cities and… I know long distance can be a lot of work.”

Were you having second thoughts?

“This is all just happening so fast and it’s a lot of change-. Dating is one thing but moving is a whole other thing for me to wrap my head around. It would be a lot of change for me if I-,” you try to explain. You let out a laugh before allowing yourself to be vulnerable – hoping it wouldn’t discourage him at all.

“I’m just kind of freaking out here, Car,” you confess. “And I also am kinda wondering where your head’s at too.”

And it feels like a weight’s been lifted off of the both of you. He laughs in relief along with you, shaking his head.

“Thank god,” he sighs, and it’s liberating.

“You too?”

“Yeah I-. Fuck yeah I’m freaking out,” Carmy reassures you, glad that you’re both on the same page.

You both exchange a look, sharing a hopeless laugh, and in that moment, neither of you need words to understand how you feel about each other. You’re both head over fuckin’ heels for each other. You reach over, giving his hand a squeeze, satisfied with that as an answer.

You settle into a comfortable silence with each other, watching the power walkers, the parents pushing their kids in strollers, the jogger running with their dog. While you’re glad you’ve gotten that out of the way, Carmy still has yet to tell you where he’s at. He repeats the words he’s had in his head, over and over again.

He doesn’t want to scare you, but they’re eating at him, like if he doesn’t let it out, he’ll implode.

You listening to me, Bear?

Can you hear me?

C’mon man. Let it rip.

“You could stay. If you wanted to. Just so you know,” Carmy blurts out, grabbing your attention.

Okay. Okay. Try not to fucking panic, you remind yourself.

Now that he’s said the words out loud… now that they exist between the two of you – that they could be a reality.

While you’d love nothing more than to say yes, you’re terrified, and all the change is terrifying. Like what if you said no and he decided to call the whole thing off? Even though you’re screaming internally, you try to approach it from a logical perspective.

“How-, how would that work?” you ask, teetering the line between hesitation and curiosity.

He shrugs, feeling incredibly naked all over again, “You heard everyone the other day. I don’t think anyone would… hate you stickin’ around.”

“And Marcus. He’s learned so much from you in just a week. You guys could… I don’t know… he can’t do it all by himself. We’re gonna have to hire someone else to help out, anyways….”

“Well, it’s Marcus’ domain. I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you reply.

“No, I know! I-, well I’d have to talk to him first but I’m sure he’d be… more than happy to hear that you’d be-.”

You’re quiet as you let his words land, your thoughts running a mile a minute.

“I’m not saying that… I haven’t made a decision yet,” you preface, wanting to be as clear as day here. “But if I decided to… you know. Well… I’d have to get my own apartment.”

“‘Course, yeah, of- of course,” he says, rushing to eliminate any thought that he’d have that expectation.

As he hurries to squash the idea, he wonders why he feels a small pang of disappointment, like a pit in his stomach. It’s not like he expected that you’d just move in together, but he’s gotten used to waking up to you the last few days.

You take another beat, letting yourself work through the thoughts you're having.

“It’d be a lot of change, Carm. And I think I just need a second to like, wrap my fuckin’ head around it. Can I think about it?” you finally ask, hopeful that he’ll understand.

It’s not him at all. You just need a fucking minute to catch up – to wrap your head around this relationship, and the possibility of moving here.

Because what if you move your whole life to Chicago for him, and it didn’t work out? You’d be crushed.

Carmy is quiet, still reeling from the fact that he blurted out those words.

“I’m-, I'm gonna have to go back to New York anyways. Tie up some loose ends. Tell the restaurant I’m not coming back. I got shit in storage too, and a lease I gotta figure out what to do with…”

“Yeah,” he finally says with a curt nod.

There’s a part of him screaming at him to burn it all down. If he sabotages it now, it’ll save him the anxiety and the grief of waiting for your response… of the possibility that you could say ‘no’ and decide not to come back. And there’s another part of him that doesn’t want to let you go back to New York at all because what if you do say no? What if you never come back? What if, after this, you change your mind and he never sees you again?

He snaps himself out of his doomsday ‘what if’ scenario and says, gaining a little more confidence, “No, yeah. Take-, take all the time you need.”

You’ve always been this way anyways. It’s just your M.O. You’ve always needed to think through things before making a decision, he reminds himself.

“Thank you for understanding, Carm.”

“I-,” you open your mouth to say something else, but nothing comes out because all you have left to say is:

I love you.

But it feels too soon – even if you’ve felt this way about him for a long time.

“I mean it,” he reinforces, even if he is faking some of his confidence. “You don’t have to thank me. Take all the time you need.”

You listen, choosing to be optimistic about the whole situation, like you know that you’re going to figure it out together.

“Besides, New York’s not so far away,” you offer up, taking a lighter tone this time. “And.. we both have phones. We can call each other, text… have phone sex.”

He laughs.

“We’re gonna figure it out. If you want to, at least,” you offer up, pausing once more. “You know. With me?”

He nods, shooting you his best reassuring look.

He really does.

He really would like nothing more than to figure it out with you.

read: part seven (epilogue)

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader

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fabraies-archive · 1 year

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TRIAL BASIS DATING ft. ATSUMU MIYA

sfw + no warnings. if the man wants a relationship with you, he’s going to have to work for it. ﾟ｡ ꒱

SECOND TEST: PLEASE-PICK-ME-UP-I’M-PISS-DRUNK

“Honestly, where did you even manage to find a guy like him? Were you born with a clover leaf in your ass ?” You friend grunts as she tries to pick you in your drunken state up. It was no later than 2 in the morning, and yet, your lovely boyfriend Atsumu miya was waiting outside of the club, car keys in hand, nervously looking around for any sign that you’re doing okay.

“Leprechaun.” You hold an index up, correcting your best friend, “Actually, scratch that. The whole country of Ireland.” You frown.

“So you’re aware that you’re incredibly lucky to have landed yourself a guy like him ?” Your friend takes a moment from pulling you through the light stained floors to raise her eyebrows at you.

Of course you’re aware. You could not be more aware of how lucky you got, especially now that it’s already started raining outside, and yet the blond shows no sign of moving anytime soon. It melts your heart, and it even makes you slightly nervous because, what if don’t manage to love him the way he deserves? What if you don’t love him the way he loves you?

Before your brain fills with what ifs, your friend manages to pull you through the club’s doors, and you find yourself in your boyfriend’s arms. You don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him; the slight sent of mahogany and lime are telling you just exactly what you need to know: that you’re home.

A soft kiss is placed on your jawline, a few whispered words accompanied with it, “Come on, Princess, you had your fun, it’s time to rest now.”

You don’t argue, all you want to do is get a good night’s sleep until the consequences of your actions hits you like a truck tomorrow morning.

The car doors close, the engine is revving, and your consciousness slowly gives out. Your head hits the car console, and you can hear some rumbling at the back of the car until something soft is slipped under your head to rest on.

You definitely drift off to sleep somewhere between your boyfriends gentle head-scratching, and the sound of the car engine being turned off. And even though you’re not sure when exactly you fell asleep, you do know one thing: you love Atsumu miya with all your heart.

You wish he knew what you meant when you silently mumbled an ‘I love you’ under your breath, even though, deep down, you’re pretty sure he did.

note. this is very very short but very very sweet so hope you enjoyed! ﾟ｡ ꒱

<- first test

#atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #atsumu fluff #atsushi x reader #atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu #atsumu x y/n #atsumu imagines #atsumu drabble #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu

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popcorndispenser · 8 months

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So this idea has been rotting my brain for ages and ages, and I told Discord about it, so now I'll brain spew it here. Angsty WarFlower ahead.

Content warning for attempted suicide.

Imagine a version of events where Freya can't get past her guilt. It's shortly before Ragnarök game-start, and she's not managed to touch Kratos beyond superficiality. He and his son have responded to her persistent attacks by holing up behind the protection stave, and she can't get close. A while passes before she sees them again, months, and with no one and nothing to turn to she feels like she's slowly losing her mind. Without Kratos there in front of her to focus on, her perception of events and time become muddied and jumbled, and because she's isolated herself from her prior life she doesn't have familiar comfort. It's just cold, and dark, and empty, and her failures are playing on repeat in her mind, spreading into nightmares until she can hardly even tell what's real.

And it becomes utterly unbearable. She feels like she hates Kratos, like she has to kill him, like he's the source of all her current pain, but just beneath the surface she's fully aware of her own hand in it, of her own influence, and the what-ifs of her choices drive her mad. After not seeing hide nor hair of him or his son for months, with nothing but blinding snow and pain, the goal of killing him starts to feel as hopeless and surreal as the desire to kill Odin.

It all overwhelms her, and after yet another week of vivid nightmares of her son cursing and screaming her name, she treads to the Valkyrie circle, takes a moment to breathe in the frigid air, and runs herself through with Thrungva.

It's a relatively ineffective and slow method, but she wasn't in her right mind enough to think of so beforehand, having more been motivated by despair and desperation than a well planned desire for death. It hurts, and she can't move, can't muster the strength to get up or withdraw the blade, but her inhuman fortitude and healing keeps her suspended, and for longer than a day she's left in agony waiting to finally bleed out and die.

That is, until Atreus finds her, having sought her early after noticing the wildlife and creatures reacting strangely and trying to urge him along, to help the woman that used to care for them. He finds her lying in a growing pool of her own blood, with a heartbeat that's nearly inperceptible, breathing shallowly and cold as a corpse, and he panics hard because what he wanted more than anything was to make amends with the woman he had been starting to view as sort of another maternal figure, maximised by the guilt of causing her so much pain when she was only kind to him. It's not helping that he saw his own mother die before him not too many years prior.

So the young god freaks out, and tries to treat her, fails, and has to rush to get Kratos. Kratos is obviously rattled, and then actually hesitant. He still cares for Freya, is peturbed by the idea of her dying at her own hand, but he doesn't want to deprive her free will in this way after having just denied her it. What breaks his composure and forces his hand is Atreus' pleading, and then the sight of her.

They take her to the cabin, Kratos confident she won't be able to prove a threat for some time due to the extent of her injury, and he treats her wound while excusing Atreus to distract himself elsewhere to spare him the grisly sight of her injury, which the boy takes to pursue the prophecy tablets, of course. Freya is out for quite some time, until she isn't, and she's less than happy to be saved - particularly about just who had saved her. Kratos is indifferent, only restraining her attempts to move to prevent her from agitating her injury, and stays by her side to watch her condition even when she threatens and spits cruelties at him, trying to get a rise out of him. Nor does he show fear sleeping next to her.

It's upsetting her and muddling her mind more, because the man that snapped her son's neck and inadvertently drove her to suicide is now tenderly replacing her bandages every morning and ensuring she takes medicine and food, and then sheepishly asking for her own advice on medicine for herself. She's feverish, and woozy, and vulnerable, but he only ever treats her with utmost care, and he gently wakes her whenever she has a nightmare. One day, she lashes at him and manages to draw blood, and he still only checks her over to make sure she hasn't re opened her wound.

And this is how their reconciliation starts.

#god of war #god of war ragnarök #kratos #freya #freytos #warflower

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coyoteprince · 1 year

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I am really, really going Through It right now, but... in the best way possible? Like, really good things? It's just a lot to juggle at once so I'm absolutely wore out from a massive growth spurt

I deserve to be joyous about this so:

-New house! All our own! We're even moving during October (date was pushed back due to philly market), very spiritually important time for me

-Getting married next Fall once things calm down, finally, after being engaged for a few years

-Came to terms with Widderwood being an important purpose in my life, an art that feeds my soul- even if the result remains small, all this work isn't a waste, because the process enriches my life and brings me joy. The many years of dedication I've had for it is a sign that it's the right choice for me to continue following, and am super looking forward to the years of doing the actual page layouts. I've been setting realistic expectations to maintain my happiness with production, am working it into my new schedule, and I get to ink the pages at my antique writing desk in the sunroom as I look out at our back garden once we move... waow

-Learning a ton of important things about myself- my fears, roots of problems and behaviors thanks to trauma and ego that I didn't notice. I'm being kinder to myself, less judgemental of others, and letting go of other's projections rather than continuing to internalize them. I know what I am, how to be empathetic and accept my missteps, but also what isn't worth my time and energy.

-Learning how to adjust my desire for perfection in myself to much more healthy & reasonable level, and being more willing to delegate

-Rebuilding my business internally from the ground up for success, seeking continuous education for business & science, and after years of struggling and testing, FINALLY figuring out a work-life method that works for my messed up desires-varience autism brain. Balance!

-Similarly, figuring out how to balance cooking for two autistic people who have greatly different cravings & stims

-Realizing what a hard working, loyal, and loving person I am with an unrivaled, firey dedication to change and self improvement. Capricorn to an eerie degree.

Overall I feel like I'm in the transitional period between continuing to be poisoned by the aftermath of prolonged abuse and illness, and finding peace while blossoming far beyond what happened to me. Something I've strived for, but wasn't sure I'd ever have. In a way, it's obtaining independence and finding out who I really am as a person, unclouded by other's words and fearful what-ifs.

20 something years of being locked away. About 8 more years of new experiences, perspectives, professional help, love, and grueling work to dismantle things in myself. I guess this is what real healing and responsibility looks like- at least in my case. I'll never stop growing, but I am at a pivotal point of change.

What I've experience is important to me because it set the projectile for my life. I want to be somewhat open because I want others to be aware of what autistic children often experience and how it affects them long term... but I also know I have more to me and don't have to be haunted anymore. Turning an unpleasant experience into a tool I can control is a lovely reward and I can now whole heartedly say: I love being alive.

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not-poignant · 6 months

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Im really sorry if this is too personal please ignore me if it is but i saw your post just at the right time and im just, im struggling in my twenties at the thought of possibly having did right now. And you say you "used to", can i ask how you healed?

A lot of therapy, anon.

It does tend to show up in someone's 20s, and I went the path of Internal Family Systems Therapy (also known as IFS or IFST) which is extremely useful alongside the three C's (Compassion, Communication, Co-Consciousness).

I wasn't aiming to eliminate any alters, and anyone who wanted to stay as a separate alter could, but I taught myself through the help of other/s to be self-compassionate, to open up opportunities and methods for communication (which also included art, writing, journalling, etc. in fact the very first tumblr that 'I' ever made was actually made by an alter, and was originally called artforartists - it's now renamed and run by 'me' because Dani has absorbed back into the system, but you can still go to the earliest entries and see her in them.

It took a few years and I didn't rush things. The main thing to know is that while it feels extreme, it usually comes about as a reasonable response to an unreasonable situation, and it usually becomes very manageable with self-compassion (to all yourselves), impartial judgement, open communication, compromise (i.e. if you have an alter that wants to play video games 24/7 to the point that you're losing weeks of memory, find out small areas of compromise where they can be given something in exchange for something), and sharing consciousness where possible (co-consciousness).

It's very scary at first but imho for me personally, it has been the 'easiest' of all of my diagnosed disorders to deal with. I still have severe treatment-resistant depression and I still have severe treatment-resistant PTSD/C-PTSD, but my DID went into remission after about 4 targeted years of therapy. It's now DDNOS (Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified) which means I don't have the symptoms enough to qualify for DID anymore, but I still have a system prone to dissociation / derealisation / depersonalisation and I have days where some alters are fronting a bit more than the central self, but I usually just use it as a sign that I'm really stressed and overwhelmed, rather than a sign that there's something wrong with me.

I'm extremely zen about it, tbh. And look, I didn't have the goal of 'absorbing' my alters (or them dying or w/e), I didn't set out with the idea of getting rid of it so much as learning how to live with different people who have different opinions about things in my head. But through the course of IFST and giving everyone a voice, that started to happen anyway. Healing doesn't always mean 'getting rid of alters' it mostly just means getting a handle on the memory loss (which is the most severe part of the disorder for me) and the polarisation so that it becomes regular dissonance and not so distressing it causes someone to switch. A person can be fully healed from DID and still have alters that front, if there's co-consciousness and communication for example. This was actually what I was aiming for, it just didn't end up being my outcome.

You may not be able to access therapy or IFST, and it can be hard to find DID-friendly therapists who know what they're doing, but you can actually look up and explore IFST on places like Instagram and in books like No Bad Parts and start doing the work gently already. (IFST isn't just or only for DID patients, but it is uniquely very well suited to them).

It can be very scary at first, anon, to think you might have this. Because it's a highly stigmatised and misunderstood disorder. At its root it can be understood as 'a child who didn't understand how to cope with something, at the time of personality formation, just developed a new personality to deal with it. But as a result of this, their brain got so good at developing new personalities that it became a maladapted coping strategy, and as an adult they can learn ways to cope that aren't splitting, switching, or losing memory with compassion and self-understanding.'

And honestly we all have a lot of maladapted coping mechanisms and the whole journey of life is learning to unpack them, and repack some healthier coping mechanisms into the lunchbox. And that's really about it. Still very scary and upsetting to go through, but also not a mysterious, "insane" thing. <3333 If you can reach out for help, please consider it, but otherwise do look into IFST. I started working on those strategies long before I found a suitable therapist and I honestly feel like just the mindset of radical self-acceptance and self-compromise and self-compassion was - while extremely hard to do often - the key for me, and some of those things will at the very least be helpful for you.

#asks and answers #personal #there's a lot more resources now for DID than their used to be #but there's also a lot more self-exploitation for likes and clout #just admitting you're worried something dissociative might be going on #is very brave and you're already on the path to healing anon #even though it doesn't feel like it yet

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moonstruckdraws · 6 months

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The Red Queen

An alternate version of Vera! @hellishgayliath daughter I've been drawing nonstop (this being no exception)

like always, this is a spiel so- yeah

Ever since looking back at my first sketch of her in this red dress a few days ago, my brain started to trail off to "what ifs" & one of these is what if Vera was bitter & frustrated to the extreme in contrast to her current self is improving from the event.

But the premise is that Vera would become a mob boss herself! While not as reknown as Big Mama, is still a bigger threat (compared to the smaller mobs like in that one episode in Hueso's restaurant)

I don't know how she'd be pushed over this edge to where she'd stop caring about others (being a therapist & all) & I won't even try lol. But in this version, it starts off with the break up (with my assumption of how she would handle it in my other post; compared to her actual reaction would be) & I'd imagine she'd just tear up the room before going to her own living quarters.

Being one of Big Mama's lovers, & a temporary model for the Grand Nexus's advertising, I'd imagine that their breakup would be talked about & Vera would probably start being bombarded at work; unable to take off from work. Maybe she'd start spiraling then? She'd fall off the face of the earth for a while before rumors of a borzoi mob boss rising up starts to become the talk of the city. Of course, I'm sure this would intrigue Big Mama or something, but Vera wouldn't announce her identity. & Idk, that's all I got lol

Aight lil details & facts this Vera would have

Vera's favorite color is ruby/scarlet, so I think her keeping this dress & making iconic look fits. It'd also tie into it being a constant reminder of when things took a turn for the worse & her trust in someone important to her was shattered. Also a funfact about her, by Helli, is that apparently she doesn't wear purple anymore; only wore the color when with Big Mama, aside for makeup. This version of her despises the color & refuses to have any hues of it near her as it reminders her of that Spider. It's why her make up is now red as well. It's also red because blood blends into it well :] (was gonna name her the Blood Queen, but that sounded a too much for Vera; also Red Queen to reference Helli calling Vera that in the first post I made of her)

I don't know how Vera feels about Big Mama fully (aside for wondering if Big Mama was pretending the whole time or not) in the sense of if she's over her. This version is probably less over her than the original, hating her guts but forever thinking of the past. Unlike the original, this version would probably carry any memories of those days with her (on good days) like the cloaking broach. She also has eye creases because tears & probably being more addicted to coffee.

Her being a therapist means she a smart cookie in psychology (i believe so), so she'd definitely use that to her advantage. Being able to see signs of lying, finding spies in her minions, etc.

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, she burns things; burning things like her burning rage

I image this would be her first major appearance, setting a fire. Idk, I just wanted to draw it lol (lil fact that I drew most of this earlier today in my notebook because there was nothing to dooooo)

And yeah, that's it. Very out of character, but hey that's what alternate versions are right? :D Don't mind me, just my brain running on nothing but thoughts.

#vera the borzoi #vera headcanons #STARS SHES SO PRETTY IN REEEEEEEEED #I LOVE THIS DRESS SO MUCH #i have one more short illustration on this #but i do not want to be up in the am's so that's for another time lol #i still have one more grand nexus outfit to draw too

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jasntodds · 2 years

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Caving In [4]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,625

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a nightmare, fluff, hurt/comfort, some paranoia, mention of torture, mention of abuse, Dick tries to kind of have “the talk”, Jason and reader argue (we all know sometimes Jason is an asshole, this is the only time this kind of argument happens btw), mentions of bruising and swelling, a mention of drug addiction, mentions of death

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: I’m really excited to post chapter 7 just so you guys know lol This feels kind of like a filler but this is the only one that feels like it I think?? I might try to post chapter 5 this weekend because of that lol I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 The first few chapters take place between season 2 episode 1 and season 2 episode 2. You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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Nightmares are a funny thing. They’re rarely anything realistic once you’re able to be calm enough to think about them. But they always contain some type of fear or traumatic event someone has experienced. Sometimes, it’s not rational or there is some deep hidden meaning behind the nightmare but other times, it’s just from trauma left unhandled. Those nightmares are the worst.

They make you revise the worst times of your life over and over and over like a broken record. No matter what you do, you lose in the nightmare. Years later, you might be happy and healthy but the nightmare comes back and you feel like you’re right back where you were. Trapped in the never-ending agony. Trapped inside a tilt-a-whirl made of panic attacks and broken hearts. And every single night, it’s a living hell.

And that’s where you are now, living your own personal hell with screaming so loud your throat is raw and ragged breaths beg your chest to finally cave in. The flashes of your “foster dad” scar the back of your eyes with every blink, like Freddy Krueger clawing his way to the surface. You might have escaped him physically, but mentally you’re trapped like a bear at a circus. Your hands shake as tears well behind your eyes and as the panic rages through your veins, the anger sets in. And you’re so mad that you’re allowing this piece of shit to haunt you even in your sleep, somewhere you might just feel safe. How are you ever supposed to be safe from him if you can’t even sleep? What if he finds you? What if, somehow, your nightmares are just a sign he’s coming after you? What are you supposed to do then? What if he has powers and that’s why he’s coming to finish you off?

A million what-ifs scramble through your brain as you sit in your bed, the bedside lamp still on. You get out of bed and it’s not even like you’re walking. With every worst-case scenario running through your head at once, you’re just moving through motions to exit your room. You need to make sure he isn’t here, need to make sure everyone here is safe from him, that you’re safe from him.

Your hands go up, right in front of you, slightly outstretched as if waiting for you to run into him. The palms of your hands glow green, ready for any type of attack you might come across in the secure tower while you tiptoe your way out of your room.

“Y/n?” A groggy voice from the right pulls your attention as you were just about to walk down the hallways. You jump and spin quickly, the glow of your hands intensifying in the dim light of the hallway. “It’s me.” Gar defends quickly, putting his hands up. “Gar?” His voice is still groggy but full of fear as he glances between your hands and your face.

You could see him with the dim lights of the hallway and the green glow of your hands but it still didn’t click, not until he said his name. You aren’t sure where your head was but a part of you is scared because of it. You were so lost in a state of fear and urgency to make sure everything was safe, you were blinded. It’s a bit terrifying.

You lets out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, dropping your hands as the green fades. “Fuck, what’re you doing?” You whisper-yell at him.

Gar takes a few steps towards you. “You were screaming.” He whispers back to you. “I heard you so I came to see if you were okay.”

The walls aren’t thin but Gar is pretty sure your scream could have woken up anyone. It was loud and pained, etched in terror. But, that’s a thing that happens here from time-to-time. Everyone has a habit of occasionally waking up screaming. It’s either childhood trauma haunting them or new trauma from Trigon. Gar figures that’s why no one else got up. They’re conditioned to be used to it.

You watch him carefully as the panic starts to cloud with feelings of regret and guilt. You didn’t realize you had screamed loud enough to wake anyone up. That’s not fair to anyone, to be woken by someone who can’t handle their own shit. And then to be standing out in the middle of a hallway at the crack of dawn with sleep still in their eyes talking about it. You look to the floor, shifting your weight on your feet and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you….okay?” Gar asks, coming a little closer.

When you fell asleep on him earlier, you looked peaceful. Normally, you kind of always have this look of fear. Your eyes always seem a little distant and you look behind whoever you’re talking to a lot. You don’t make eye contact for longer than a few seconds. But while you slept, you looked at ease and peaceful and calm, like you didn’t need to look over your shoulder anymore but then you shot up out of nowhere. Gar knew it had to have been a nightmare. He reacts the same way when he has one, maybe everyone does but he knows the signs. Wide eyes, ragged breathing, distant but sleep-filled eyes. And now, you’re awake again from a nightmare and it doesn’t sit right with the kind boy with green hair.

You nod. “Y-yeah.” You offer a fake smile. “You, uh, you can go back to bed.”

“Are you going to go back to bed?” Gar asks with a pointed look and he doesn’t want you to be alone. The shadows are a bit more haunting when you’re alone.

“Uh….I mean….eventually.” You answer softly, dropping your head slightly.

“I can stay with you until you fall asleep if you want.” Gar shrugs his shoulders, putting his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants.

You raise a brow at him, not looking pleased with the idea. You don’t want to inconvenience him or seem weak. You’re in a tower full of heroes and you can’t even sleep through the night. The last thing you want is for any of them to see you as the weak link. What happens if you can’t pull it together? Will they just drop you because you’re not strong enough?

“It-it’s okay.” You don’t smile this time, you just keep chewing your lip, pulling your sleeves over your hands, something Gar has been noticing you do.

“What were you doing out here?” Gar asks, his voice kind and not accusing but you shake your head, knowing it sounds ridiculous. “I won’t tell anyone.” He offers and there’s this sweet but subtle smile pulling at his lips.

Jason, a few hours ago, told you to talk to him. He said maybe it would help and the only way he’d know that, is if Gar knows Jason’s baggage, too. Jason doesn’t seem the type to wave the white flag and spill all of his secrets. Maybe Gar just cares about everyone and maybe it will help.

You sigh and cave. “I-I-I was….was just making sure….uh….he wasn’t….here.” You stutter but eventually get everything out and a part of Gar’s heart breaks at hearing it.

You aren’t looking at him, a sense of shame consuming you and Gar is not about to have you feeling bad for worrying that the person who tortured you is seeking you out in the one place you feel safe. It’s not fair and it’s not right. Gar knows whatever you went through was horrible but the fact you’re so worried that the person is in the tower? It’s unfathomable.

Gar starts walking past you, stopping a few steps ahead of you and offering you his hand. “We’ll look together.”

You look at his hand and then up at him with his words and you can feel your nose getting warm while your eyes burn. Your entire face softens and there’s something about the offer that makes you feel like everything in you is being warmed by a fireplace, warmed by a place one can only describe as home. He didn’t think you were crazy or that it was ridiculous or stupid. He just…offered to help.

So, you put your hand in his, following him through the tower.

As you walk, you hold his hand tightly noticing the soft callouses. His grip is tight but in a comforting type of way and he glances at you every few seconds as if making sure you’re okay. You walk from room to room, turning on the lights and verifying there isn’t anyone around before you end up in the comms room with the supercomputer. Gar takes a seat and shows you that everything is still secure and there hasn’t been a break-in. Everyone still needs their fingerprints to get in and the front door is done by facial recognition. According to the logs, no one has been in or out of the tower since nine the night before.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly, standing to the side of Gar with arms crossed and eyes on the large screen in front of you. “I know this was stupid.”

Gar spins in the chair to face you but your eyes don’t move. “It’s okay, ya know? You’re scared and this is a new place. It’s not stupid.”

“It feels like it though, I-i-i….I see him anytime I close my eyes.” Your voice is so small.

You think maybe you should take Jason’s advice fully. Gar is awake with you anyway and you woke him up. He could have gone back to bed but he walked with you instead, knowing full well there wasn’t an intruder in the tower. It’s like you owe him some type of explanation.

“Foster dad.” You clarify. “He’s originally from Gotham, too, ya know? So him being a complete psychopath kind of tracks.” There’s a sharp bitterness in your voice but you keep your stare off of Gar, afraid that if you can see the look on his face you know he’s giving you, you’ll just shut down and go to bed.

“He just…did that to you?” Gar asks with furrowed brows and pain in his voice.

“Yep, he wanted powers. Some weird thing against Batman and Robin so he used me because ya know, the system doesn’t actually give a fuck about most foster kids.” You grit your teeth, your fists balling in your arms. “Then thought I was concealing my powers from him because he was certain his experiments were working so he’d try to literally beat them out of me.” You shrug a shoulder. “Guess he was right.”

Gar pauses, piecing it together. He was sure you would have tried to use your powers, but you didn’t? “Wait so….you never used your powers around him and—“

“Let him beat me until he thought I was dead?” You ask, just glancing at Gar long enough to see him nod. “Yep. If he knew it worked, he’d have killed me anyway. Letting him think he failed was…” You tilt your head side to side slightly. “Vindicating in a way. I, uh, I know it sounds so stupid but I was desperate to try and get out. Desperate people do stupid things."

“I’m so sorry that happened.” Gar’s eyes are glued to you, hating the idea of living through that.

He was tortured before and it haunts him every single day. He wasn’t even tortured for very long and it’s still hell. You were tortured for a lot longer. He gets your hesitance and your paranoia. He’d be paranoid, too if he were you.

“Yeah….” You sigh. “So, I might have escaped physically but the piece of shit really isn’t leaving my dreams alone, I guess.”

Gar sits on it for a few seconds. While he was kind of this weird experiment in a way, Dr. Caulder knew it would work and it would save him. He never had to fear for his life around him. He feared speaking up and being himself because sometimes the doctor wasn’t very nice. He didn’t really like other people being their own people, not if it contradicted what he believed or wanted. So, he can’t even fathom want horrors haunt your mind even in safety.

“I can check the tower for you every night if you want.” Gar offers. You jerk your head in his direction, surprise etched across every crease of your face. “And uh, if you have a nightmare, you can wake me up. I leave my door unlocked anyway…if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Y-y-you’d do that?”

Gar gains a sheepish smile as he shrugs. “Yeah, of course.”

You will never tell Jason, but maybe he was right about telling Gar. You feel a little better about it and he’s so nice. He’s offering to lose sleep when you have a nightmare which could be every night. You wonder how he’s chosen to be so kind despite whatever he’s been through.

“Thank you.” You look to the ground and then finally look at Gar. “Can you not tell anyone? Please?”

He chuckles softly. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks, it means a lot.” You suck in a breath. “Well, now that I know my delusions are just delusions, I’m gonna try and get some more sleep.” You give him a genuine smile this time.

“I’ll be up if you need anything.” Gar says, turning back to the computer to exit out of the security system.

“I’m so sorry.” You apologize again. “I didn’t mean to keep you from sleeping or anything.”

“It’s okay.” Gar assures you. “I should be getting up early anyway.”

“Okay.” You nod, offering him a closed and small smile.

It’s six now so Gar’s alarm would be going off in an hour anyway. But, you’re still going to go to bed. He didn’t hear you go to bed the night before and it was pretty late when you woke up from the first nightmare.

“What, uh what time did you go to bed anyway?”

“Uh….” You squint an eye, trying to remember the last time you looked at your phone. “Four? I think?”

“Wow, okay.” Gar’s brows raise quickly as he chuckles softly.

“I-I got talking with Jason last night so…” Your words fall off. “Couldn’t sleep and I ran into him.”

Gar nods slowly, ignoring the tint of a burn in his chest. You talked to Jason but not him? He’s been so nice to you and he feels like you trust him. All you do with Jason is this weird banter thing that Gar is slowly realizing maybe it’s flirting. Not that he’s actively trying to pursue anything because that doesn’t feel right either. But something about you talking to Jason, hurts. He’s always deemed himself a trustworthy person who’s a pretty good listener but you went to probably the worst listener on the face of the planet. He doesn’t really get it and he knows he has not right to assume you would tell him anything. Above everything else, he’s just surprised you got talking to Jason.

“What’d ya talk about?” Gar plays it cool, not digging but just asking.

“Uh….nothing really, I guess.” You lie and it’s at that moment you realize you lie a lot. Not that you intend to, it just feels like an instinct now either to protect yourself or other people. “I mean…not nothing.” You correct yourself. “Some of what happened in a very unserious manner.”

Gar nods his head again and you might be a little dense but you’re not so dense that you missed the way he stiffed in his chair. “Did it help?” He asked.

“Well, I, uh, I felt better after but then I had a nightmare so….not sure how much talking about it really helped.” You scoff as you roll your shoulders.

“Is it because it was unserious?” Gar asks, quoting your direct word.

You shake your head. “Nah, always been better with unserious ways of talking about trauma. When it gets too….emotional I don’t….” You look to the floor, tugging your sleeves over your hands. “I don’t like it very much, like it less than I usually do, I suppose.”

“You can talk to me.” Gar offers, looking back over to you.

“I know.” You smile at him softly, it’s almost a smirk that forms. “Can you get a little snarky and nasty about it?”

“Would it help?” Gar chuckles, his position loosening with the question and the burning sensation in his chest starting to dissipate.

“Yeah, you can’t give that look you do. With the big eyes and sad expression, makes me feel weird.” You scrunch the left side of your mouth upwards.

Gar laughs softly, putting his hands up. “Okay, I’ll try my best.”

“Thanks.” You look around the room and then back to him. “I do like talking to you and hanging around you. You make me feel comfortable here.” You admit and then realize you’re saying way too much. “Okay well, that’s enough for today. I’m actually going to bed.” You smile at him and it almost feels like you should hug him or something but that also feels like it might just get awkward so you opt for a small wave as if that wasn’t just as awkward.

“Sleep well.” Gar laughs softly, matching the wave with burning cheeks.

You finally get some much-needed rest, without a nightmare. It wasn't a lot of sleep by any means but it was a lot more than you’ve gotten in a long time and for the first time, you actually feel well-rested. You aren't sure if it's because you talked with Gar about what happened a little bit or if it's because you knew he was awake and wouldn't let anyone in your room if they tried. Or that he helped you look around the tower for Jerry like two crazy people. Maybe it's a combination of everything but you feel a lot better.

You find yourself walking into the kitchen once you’re fully awake, still dressed in pajamas. Your thing has always been you shouldn't need to get properly dressed if you aren't actively doing something or going somewhere. Why bother dirtying clothes?

When you walk into the kitchen, Gar and Jason are sat on the barstools while Dick is making some type of shake, Rachel is just coming in from the opposite hall. The boys look a little sweaty, devouring their food like they haven’t eaten in days. You assume they’d just gotten done with a training session and, apparently, were too hungry to shower first.

"Good morning." Dick chimes, bits of sarcasm in his words given it just being past noon.

You pause, glaring at him. "You're one of those aren't you?"

"What?" Dick chuckles, confusion in his face.

"Thinking the early bird gets the worm or whatever." Your voice is flat and you might be well-rested and it might be the afternoon, but you’re not a morning person.

Dick shrugs. "It's true."

"But the mouse gets the cheese, my guy." You give him a thumbs up, moving to the seat between Jason and Gar and sitting down. Gar gives you this gentle smile while Jason has this proud smirk pulling at his lips. "What?" You look at Dick who looks somewhere between amused and contentment.

Dick is looking at you with a sense of ease and accomplishment. He thought you’d be more...closed off longer. This is a new place, you’re traumatized and hurt. But, you seem comfortable, using sarcasm with him that isn’t hurtful and plopping down right between the boys whose expressions did not go unnoticed by Dick. Dick feels like he might be doing something really good here.

"Nothing." Dick's face settles with amusement. "Settling okay?"

"Mhm." You hum.

"Since she doesn't shut the fuck up, I'm sure she's fine." Jason states, his voice trying to sound menacing.

Gar and you look to Jason with annoyance. "You have not shut up for a single second I have been here and this is day three. You had no complaints last night." You look away, Dick looking between the two of you with his cup held to his mouth. He doesn’t even wanna know.

"You were whining, I wanted you to shut up and it worked." Jason mumbles and you let out a laugh. What is his issue?

"I don't whine, I complain. There's a difference." You hold your pointer finger up to correct him and Jason cracks a smile, Gar chuckles into his water bottle.

"Same shit." Jason fires back. "You could stop."

You roll your eyes and that's when the idea sparks. Jason isn’t winning this, this is your game to win. "Hey, Dick, question: What's your rule on dating? Ya know in the tower?"

Jason and Gar both stiffen in their seats, you catching it out of the corner of your eyes and it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing or break the stare you have with Dick. Gar is choking on his water and Jason's cheeks are turning red while Dick is stuck looking at all three of you wondering how the hell he got here. The last thing Dick wants to do is discuss this. Of course, he knew there was a chance of something going on, but he kind of assumed it would just happen. He didn’t think he’d get dragged into it, not like this at least.

"She's screwing with you." Rachel says from the other side of Gar. You give Dick a wide smirk, Gar and Jason looking a little displeased, Jason more than Gar who almost looks disappointed.

"Of course she is." Dick lets out a breath, his expression unamused.

"Sorry, you were a necessary casualty in getting Jason to shut up for a few seconds." You hold an apologetic smile.

Jason flirts a lot and in your experience, if you bring up dating out of the blue, it’ll shut someone like Jason up faster than anything because it’s out of left field. He’s caught off guard and it gets his brain going on if there’s something going on. You think it’s funny, you’ve won this bit.

"Well, since you wanted to bring it up..." Dick starts and all four of you suddenly look like you need seatbelts.

"No, not the talk, please." Gar begs with a groan.

Dick grimaces. "No, of course not. I trust you all know about that." Even if you didn’t, Dick isn’t sure he’d be able to give the talk. He’d call Donna and Dawn. They’re the responsible ones.

"Some of us more than others." Jason quips with a smirk.

"Gross." Rachel mutters.

"Dude." Gar looks past you and at Jason, shaking his head at Jason.

"Anyway, uh..." Dick fumbles for words, realizing he never had any intention of this conversation which was his fault given the Titans past of relationship in the tower. "Just make sure everyone is consenting and be safe?"

"You sound so uncertain about that." You raise a brow as your words are slow.

"I don't know how to have this conversation." Dick defends.

"We don't have to." Gar is grimacing in his seat. "We know, safety and consent, got it." It’s not that Gar is a prude, it’s just awkward and he’s not much of a fan of awkward conversations. If it were just him and Dick, it wouldn’t be awkward, but it's everyone.

"Don't bring drama into the training room or while we're out."

"Obviously." Rachel says, already tired of the conversation.

"That won't be a problem." Jason mutters.

You rolls your eyes at him before looking back to Dick. "You're doing great, bud." You give Dick a thumbs up.

"That's it. I don't care, don't do anything.....graphic..."

"God." Gar groans, making you laugh. But, everyone has gathered this look of disgust on their faces with Dick’s choice of words. "Please, stop talking." Gar pleads.

"In a public area of the tower." Dick continues.

All of your faces contort into a grimace, even Jason’s. That is such an odd and specific request. You did not think this is where that joke would go. You didn’t think it’d go anywhere, let alone here.

"I feel like there's a very specific reason you said that and I don't wanna know." You laugh. "I'm sorry, I didn't think he'd decide to have this conversation." You apologize to the room.

"And what did you learn today?" Dick asks, not too happy about feeling like he had to have the talk with the new Titans.

"You want me today something like pick my words more carefully next time but...I think I just learned not bring up interpersonal relations with you in front of other people." You scrunch your nose.

Dick lets out a sigh. "Well, are we clear then?"

"YES." Gar yells, dramatically. "Can we stop now? This is awkward."

"Come on, Gar. Surely this isn't new territory for you." You kick Jason under the counter. "Ow! What the fuck?"

"Shut the fuck up." You snip at him.

"Yeah? And What are you gonna do about it?" Jason looks you up and down.

You narrow your eyes and for a second you think about what you could do. You could give him a burn, something equivalent to a rug burn. But, that’s not right and you’d never actually try to hurt him, not like this. And you can’t punch him because that also seems a bit extreme. He’d probably see it coming anyway, block you, then hit you back.

"That's what I thought." Jason scoffs with a look of pride as he’s won.

You shove him with your hand, Jason falling off of his chair. He hits the floor with a thud, looking at up at you with a twisted face filled of anger and shock. For someone who can't fight and who's injured, you’re ballsy. Jason could fight you right now and you'd basically be defenseless but Jason wouldn't do that. He knows where the lines are when it comes to physical contact and he doesn't cross them. He crosses a lot of lines, but fighting people who can't fight back isn't one of those. So, he's even more pissed about it.

Jason gets back to his feet, closing the distance between him and you. "What the fuck is your problem, huh?" Jason yells in your face, Gar adjusting in his seat, ready to get up at any point and Dick is ready to step in if he needs to.

"You are, apparently. Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole? For no reason? Aren't you friends?"

"He doesn't need you to come to his fucking defense. I was fucking joking." Jason snarls, looking just past you at Gar before looking back at you.

"Right." You mutter. "Except it's obvious the whole conversation has made him uncomfortable so why don't you go cool the fuck off. You obviously need to." You sit straight in your seat, your face close to Jason's and you’re not backing down.

"You shoved me!" Jason flings his arm out in frustration.

"You asked me what I was gonna do about it! So I showed you!" You bark at him. "What are you gonna do about it?"

A dry laugh escapes Jason's throat and he doesn't want to actually fight you, but you’re making it a little tempting right about now. "Is that all you fucking have?" He taunts you instead.

"Wanna test me?" You open your palms, holding them just in front of your shoulders as they glow. Jason looks at the green and he doesn't get how people with powers are so willing to use them. He doesn't need powers. He's got his fists and those are plenty.

"Because you're just another freak, right?"

Gar gets off his seat at that comment, pushing Jason slightly and standing in between you and Jason. "Dude, go calm down. It's not that serious." Gar keeps his voice level, trying to diffuse the situation.

"You a team now, huh?" Jason looks in between you.

"Jason, come on. Cool off for a few minutes." Dick keeps his stance, choosing not to crowd the already heated area.

"Fuck you guys!" Jason yells, pushing past Gar and heading down the right hallway.

Gar sits down again and Dick's position relaxes with Jason out of the room. Gar's just surprised it went as far as it did but it's also Jason. He has buttons and pushing them sometimes leads to blow-ups. Jason is still his friend but sometimes, he really does not make it easy and this is one of those times. He doesn't understand why Rachel and now you are freaks but somehow Gar is never a freak. He has powers, too and as far as he's concerned, turning into a tiger is far more freakish than whatever you have going on. And he always acts like it's your fault, somehow. Rachel was just born like that, no one gets to pick their biological parents. And Gar and you were injected. How is that right? It hurts a little because Gar knows that if they weren't friends, he'd be the target one of Jason's freak rants.

"Is that what everyone meant by I'd get used to Jason?" You ask the room.

"Yeah." Gar answers and Dick nods. "He does that sometimes."

"Interesting." You hum quietly, your hands shaking slightly, Gar taking notice.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking between your hands and your eyes.

"Oh..." You quickly move your hands under the countertop and tug your sleeves down. "I'm, uh I'm fine." You fake a smile at him.

It's not that you really thought Jason might hit you, him hitting you over a shove didn’t even cross your mind. You don't really know if he's the type that gets mad and hits people, you don't really know him at all. But, you'd think that would have been a warning from someone if that were the case. It was more that you don't like getting yelled at apparently. It wasn’t an issue before Jerry but, now it seems to be another trigger.

"He wouldn't have hurt you." Dick assures you, as if reading your mind.

"Jason doesn't hit people here when he gets mad, just yells a lot." Gar assures you, following Dick's lead.

"I didn't think he'd hit me." You tell them with ease. "Got that throbbing thing in the back of my head when someone's going to." You remind them. "And I just...I'm not scared of him. Guess I just don't like being yelled at when someone is in my face." You look to the counter. "I'm fine, honest."

"Are you sure?" Gar asks.

"Yeah." You give him a soft smile. "Thanks though. I'm gonna eat." You get down and find a bowl in a cabinet, moving around Dick.

"Okay, I'm gonna go check on Jason then, make sure he's cooling down." Dick gives Gar a look and a nod toward you. Gar nods in response while Dick leaves to find Jason.

You make your cereal while Gar watches you. Your hands are still shaking and he feels bad. It's not his fault that Jason blew up because it's Jason. He blows up at everything but Gar could have defended himself. It's nice that you did. He's never had someone defend him like that but it got you yelled at by Jason and after you had, what Gar assumed to be, a pretty nice conversation the night before. He just worries about you.

"Hey," Gar starts as you take your seat back next to him. "Wanna do something today?" Gar asks.

You furrow your brows at him, before taking a bite of your cereal. "Like what?"

"What'd you wanna do?" Gar shrugs, figuring maybe you should be the one to decide. He just wants to hang out with you.

"Mmmm." You hum and think for a second. "Dye my hair." You chuckle softly.

"That's what you wanna do?" Gar asks.

"Mhm." You hums. "Always wanted to and you have green hair, Rachel's hair is purple." You shrug.

You just want a change. This is a big change, being at the tower but that doesn’t have anything to do with your appearance. You like how you look but you want something different. Your mom never let you dye your hair even though you really wanted to. This place, this place allows you to do that and to change something about yourself. It’s a way to take control of something. The way you see it, with all the bruising and swelling, you don’t look much like yourself anyway. Might as well change the hair, too.

"Okay." Gar beams at you. "We can go get whatever dye you want today and I can help. I'm not sure how much help I'll be but maybe we can get Rachel to help if you want." Gar rambles off and he seems so energetic and happy about it.

"Uh..." You stutter. "Okay, yeah that'd be fun. Thank you." The smile you give him is wide and filled of joy.

"What color?"

You tell him your favorite color, beaming at him. "Always thought that hair was cool." You smirk at him.

"We'll go when you're done eating." Gar gets up from his chair. "I'm gonna shower first."

"Have a blast." You grin to yourself, going back to your cereal. "Meet me in my room after?" You look back to him and he nods with a cheery smile before turning on his feet, and quickly heading down the hallway. "He's so cute." You say to yourself, going back to your cereal.

After Gar's shower, he met with you in your room. You were already dressed and ready to go, you even asked Rachel for help when you got back which Rachel was more than happy to help. Once Gar was ready, he was the one that asked Dick for some money before you left and off you went with Rachel, you feeling more comfortable having both Gar and Rachel with you. You realize how great it is that Rachel was willing to help because you never would have gotten something everything you needed.

When you got back, Gar and you met with Rachel in a bathroom. Rachel got everything together and get to work with your hair. You explained to Rachel that you still wanted some of your natural hair color but the majority of it to be dyed. Rachel understood what you were explaining while Gar seemed a little confused.

As Rachel helped with your hair, the three of you got talking about past lives. You all avoided all talk about trauma and tragic backstories and instead talked about your favorite movies and shows, music. If you'd ever been to a concert, the best places you've ever eaten, random stories about family and friends you had before everything. And while these conversations are going on, there's warmth and comfort that consumes you.

This is the longest you’ve gone without thinking about how your face looks or how your body is sore or Jerry. It's just the three of you and you feel so at home because Gar and Rachel make it so easy. And you wonder if this is what real friendship feels like.

Sure, you had friends before your mom died. But that was then and this is now. You had a small circle of friends but only one that you really relied on and could tell anything to. But then your mom died and it all got so messy and heavy. You couldn't inconvenience even your best friend with your problems over it. Your best friend never really understood the person you started to become after. Vengeful and spiteful and angry. And desperate and cold and detached. It struck like a hurricane right through your friendship.

You couldn't handle anything and you were always running from CPS. What kind of friend would you be if you endangered your best friend's mom by getting in trouble with CPS? You knew it was only a matter of time before they threatened to take your best friend away if they didn't give you up. At least, that's how you always saw it. It was always such a big fear and you couldn't put them through that, on the chance it did happen so you just left one day and never came back. But you weren't a very good friend then either.

You had all these plans of hunting down the Joker and even though you'd probably die, too, hunting him down would have made it worth it to you. To look him in the eyes and just try to hit him or shoot him, if you had a gun anyway. You knew you would never make it out alive and that was something you deemed to be okay because you didn't have anything worth living for anymore. Your dad went off to choose drugs over you, your mom died, your best friend not knowing how to handle anything. A suicide mission seemed like a pretty sweet deal at the time. But, now you’re here with Gar and Rachel, in this bathroom getting the hair you’ve wanted to try and maybe you have more worth living for.

"Okay, what do you think?" Rachel asks, shutting the blow-dryer off, proud of the dye job she's done.

You look in the mirror and your face lights up. Stripes of the color consume the majority of your head and you could not be happier in this moment. "I love it!" You squeal before turning around. "Thank you!" You hug Rachel quickly before turning back around and there's a sweet and amused smile on Gar's face.

"It looks really good on you." Gar's smile turns shy as you look to him.

"Y-you think so?" You asks, your stomach swirling with his words.

Gar nods. "Yeah, I like the color." Gar’s smile is the softest thing in the world.

"How cute." Rachel giggles before cutting it short as Gar looks at her with wide eyes. "It looks good, yeah." Rachel agrees.

"Thank you." You look at yourself again and you’ve never had this hair before, but it makes you feel more like yourself. It's probably the self-expression it's allowing you to have but you really like it. "And hey, now people will have something else to look at that's not my face." You laugh softly.

"You're face looks good, too." Gar says so quickly, you and Rachel barely catch it, but you do and you both look at him with raised brows. Rachel looks in between you and Gar, waiting for something to happen. This is the most entertainment she's had since they got to San Francisco. "I mean..." Gar stutters. "The, uh, the bruises and stuff, they're healing."

"Mhm." You hum with burning cheeks. "Thank you, Gar."

Gar feels the embarrassment wanting to eat him alive. He can't believe he said that out loud. Now Rachel is looking at him with knowing eyes and he can't help it. Sometimes, things just come out and then he feels like he has to backtrack and now he's embarrassed even though you didn't seem bothered by it. Which then makes him think he didn't need to add in the last comment about the bruises. Surely, you know he didn't mean just the bruises are looking fine now and the meant your whole face but now he doesn't know and he has got to get his brain to shut up for five seconds.

"There you are." Dick says, looking into the bathroom, the door wide open.

"Yes?" Rachel asks.

"Training room." Dick says.

Gar checks the time on his phone, seeing they were in fact late for their last training session. Shopping with you took a little longer than expected since you stopped for food and were having fun together. Then dying your hair took a while but Dick doesn't seem mad about it.

The three of you follow Dick to the training room where Jason is already waiting, as if he hadn't left the room since this morning. You sit on a bench and watch as you’re not allowed to train yet. Dick mostly supervises after giving them some instructions on what to do and then gives pointers. You mostly watch Gar and Jason.

It's interesting watching them. Jason is clearly the aggressor. You can't tell if it's all his pent-up aggression or if it's just his experience as Robin that makes him the aggressor but you find it interesting nonetheless. Gar and Rachel seem to work together to go against Jason even though they're all supposed to be working against each other. Gar works more on a defensive tactic, going for Jason after Jason comes for him or while Rachel has him distracted and that's when Gar gets a hit it. They're being trained by the same person but they fight differently and it seems to match their personalities.

Dick walks over to you as the other three continue to spar. "Like the new hair." Dick compliments you.

"Thanks, Rachel did it for me." You beam up at him.

"Feeling more comfortable?"

"Yeah..." You sigh. "I give you shit 'cause it's fun but I think I'm gonna like it here. Thank you again for taking me in." You say candidly. You make a mental note to thank him regularly for it.

It warms Dick's heart to know his efforts mean something. He just wants to be the mentor he wishes Bruce was and he just wants to help. It seems to be working, with you and Rachel and Gar, jury is still out on Jason. But Dick knows Jason will not be an overnight success.

"Good, I'm glad." Dick offers you a smile before walking back to where he previously was.

The rest of the training session goes by, Gar and Rachel going to you when they had a water break and talking. Jason opted to be by himself, Gar noticing the concern on your face and assuring you that he'll be calm and be over it the next day. But it doesn't quite sit right for you. You don't want him mad at you, you do like to mess with him in a fun banter way, not him being pissed at you.

You like to push people's buttons but you’re not too fond of people being actively mad at you. If there's a line you aren't supposed to cross, all someone has to do is tell you and you'll respect the line. You aren't about making people unnecessarily uncomfortable or mad. But you nod along with Gar anyway and eventually training ends. You stay behind with Jason, Gar hovers a little more than he would given the events of the afternoon but he does eventually leave the two of you alone.

"So, you gonna stay mad at me forever?" You ask as you walk over to Jason who's seated on a bench, getting a drink and ignoring you. "Come on," You groan. "Can you not handle a shove from me?"

Jason glares up at you. "Just shut up." He groans.

"Nope." You sit next to him, your leg touching his. "I'm sorry I shoved you." Jason's brows furrow at you and he doesn't think anyone has apologized to him since he's been here, for anything. "Honest, I should have left it alone but I provoked you further than I should have." You are sorry for it. Sure, Jason owes you an apology, too but you can apologize first.

"Sorry for what I said." Jason mumbles, swallowing his pride.

He never wants to hurt someone's feelings, not really. In the moment, absolutely but then after he feels horrible about it. He hates when other people make him feel weak. You shoving him from his seat, it made him feel weak and he hates it. It’s how he’s felt his entire life. Weak. So, when he feels weak or when someone pushes the wrong bottom, he just starts talking and going off. It just flows out of his mouth before he can even think about it. It's not an excuse, he just can't help it and he is sorry.

"To you and Gar." Jason lets out a sigh.

The corner of your smile pulls up. "I forgive you."

Jason glances at you and he can’t stay mad at you. Normally, he’s very good at holding grudges. He still has a grudge against a kid who pushed him down a slide when he was seven. He’s very good at holding grudges but you’ve got this smirk that says you’re up to no good and this look in your eyes that sends this electricity through his blood. He can’t explain it but he can’t stay mad at you.

"Did you still wanna train tonight when everyone goes to bed?" Jason turns his head towards you, twitching his brows up and the grin starts pull at his lips.

"If you're still willing."

"Someone's gotta show you how to do more than fucking shove someone." Jason scoffs but a smile pulls at his lips as he chuckles softly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, got powers now and never had issues on the streets, okay? People happen to like my quick wit and quips.” You lightly nudge him with your shoulder.

"Yeah," Jason chortles. "That's why no one fucked with you.” Jason nods his head and lightly nudges you back, not believing you.

"I'd like to think so, yes.” You hold your head up with pride and Jason has this genuinely kind smile on his face. “What time, boss?”

Jason shakes his head. “Midnight. Everyone is usually in their rooms or asleep.”

“Okay, I'll meet you here then." You smirk at him as you get up and lick your lips. He knows deep down he doesn't have a shot with you but his stomach burns with the thought of you. You get under his skin like no one else and he hates to admit it but he really likes it.

"Don't be late." Jason quips, his voice taunting.

You shake your head, turning around to face him again. “Shut the fuck up.” You laugh softly. “I’ll meet you here at midnight, on the dot.” You widen your eyes, mocking him before exiting the room.

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Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @thatfangirl42

#gar logan #jason todd #gar logan x reader #garfield logan x reader #jason todd x reader #gar logan fanfic #gar logan fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #caving in

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multifandomsofficial · 2 months

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Hello, could you please do a Headcannon of how the disciples would react if they found out their wife (the reader) was self harming (cutting herself)? Thanks 😊

Trauma dumping time (again, bare with me): I have no idea why I feel comfortable doing this, especially as someone who has done SH, but it's easier for me to write about. I changed the request, since I have two, to be more of like, when/how they find out about it.

Name: What's that?

Parring: Ten disciples (Thomas and Peter not included) x wife!reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: MAJOR READER WARNING ⚠ DO NOT READ IF SENSITIVE TO SELF HARM OR ELEMENTS OF SELF HARM (blood, cuts, etc), reader is sorta different depending on the disciple, uses of you/your

Type: Headcannon

PART TWO

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

Judas: His eyes widen when he sees the scars on your forearm, and he practically falls to his knees. Why? How? How dare he let this happen! How could he let this happen? What was wrong with him? Judas could slap himself, or throw something, or hug you. Hugging you sounded great right now.

Nathaniel: Was watching you change (this man doesn't know modesty or personal space) when he noticed it. The scars on your leg, way too uniform and perfect to be an accident. How could he have missed that? He feels like slapping himself from how obvious it is! Sure, they may be small....but there's a reason you did it, and he hopes it wasn't because of him, but hope can only get him so far.

Matthew: Literally no thoughts. Literally so confused when he first sees it. Something in him tried to ignore the guilty feeling he had of knowing what it was, but he couldn't help but be in denial. He wanted, no - needed - you to confirm or deny what it actually was.

Big James: Feels like he's dying, or dreaming, or both. He hopes it's both. But, as he clenches his fist, he realizes: this is happening. He's actually going to have to talk to you about this. Maybe Jesus could talk to you instead? But, he knew Jesus would tell him to talk to you instead. You're married after all.

Little James: He's cut before, but not in a million years did he ever think he'd find any scars on you. Not just scars, but fresh ones. Was this his fault? Did he give you the idea? He felt like burying himself in a hole as what ifs and doubts flooded in his mind.

Simon Z: He was lying awake, unable to sleep. He was on edge and didn't know why. You were on edge all day, too, and he was racking his brain trying to figure out why. His calloused hands subconsciously stroked your arm, when he felt something new under his finger tips. His hand slowed to a stop over the spot, knowing what it was just by a touch. It's new.

Andrew: 'This is all my fault.' That's the only thing going through Andrew's mind. How could he be so stupid? How could he not tell? And you'd tell him everything, but why did you hold this back?! He just stared at your shoulder for a second, and a small, strangled sound came out of his throat, before he choked out: "What's that?"

Philip: Stares at it for a few seconds, before his gentle eyes go to yours. It's fresh. Too fresh. He knows you've dealt with it in the past, but....you claimed it was months, maybe years, ago. Tries so hard to not cry, letting you start to ramble about everything. About why you started again. It wasn't him....was it? He hoped not.

Thaddeus: He was watching you pull your hair back and under your head covering, making your sleeve move enough for him to see your wrist a little more. There were so many, and it felt like he just got a bucket of cold water thrown on him. He just stared at your wrist, noticing how it didn't end there and went up your arm. He tried, he really tried, to put on a straight face so you wouldn't know he knows.

John: First thing he notices are some scars on your wrist, but doesn't think much of it. You're a fan of animals, so that's what he thought. An animal scratched you. But once he held your hand, his thumb barely grazed one of the scars. This felt different. It took a little bit before the dots connected, and he looks at you with the most horrified look ever. You both know that he knows, but he never goes right out and says he knows.

#marvelfandomsofficial #the chosen #the chosen x reader #the chosen headcanons

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nextinline-if · 1 year

Note

I’ve seen people ask authors who they’d ship their characters with, but I’m curious which ROs, from other WIPs, are your favorite? Is there any specific reason?

I absolutely love your story so much! You’re wonderful!

I'm unsure if both of these asks are yours, but I'm sorry it took so long to answer (like months RIP). Screenshot one was recent the other is older. Also thank you anon for your sweet words. <3

I appreciate your no-choice-patience <3 This is such a fun question. I read it wrong for about 4 months and kept stressing about which ROs to ship with mine. My brain was NOT working.

I'm being fucking serious, unfortunately. Please laugh at me in the comments. </3

Here are some of my favorite ROs from other WIPs:

Seven - @infamous-if; I can write a paragraph about why I like Seven but does anyone really want that? Heh. When the game first started, I was SO ready to be like "f you Seven, you jerk!" And then we find out that Seven still has that tattoo. Okay, interest peaked. Well, played. You got me f'ed up. I like to play tropes where it's from ex - to enemies - to lovers. Juicy stuff right there.

Ari - @theoperativeif; There's something really enticing about not just a slow burn but a slow burn that has the extra burn because of the obstacles in the relationship that prevent you from reaching each other. Ouch. I normally don't like slowwwww burns. Like, a little slow is good cause it's realistic but like where I ONLY get to imagine them in my MC's head or in memories? Got me f'ed up. (Again). I think I like this because of the trauma the two characters have faced together. Is trauma bond a tope? Don't know but let's go with that.

Blade - @shepherds-of-haven; On a surface level, you get a character who fights for those he cares for, has strong convictions, and is hard to get close to. I'm a sucker for those. But on a deeper level, I really enjoy the way his story is written and told. Unearthing Blade's past and trying to weave your MC into this complex character's heart. Not sure what trope is going on here but I'll take it all.

Sol - @theabyssal; Yeah, my Death is pretty pissed at Sol right now...but you're telling me that literal sunshine fell for Death? The Abyssal has A+ writing as is, but adding an incredible love story like that really hooks my soppy lil heart. The complexities...THE COMPLEXITIES. I'm on the edge of my f-ing seat here people. I want Sol to suffer and beg my Death for forgiveness. And my Death will make Sol suffer emotionally and then accept the forgiveness :') (she's a weak betch)

Dara - @ataleofcrowns; I mean, I LOVE forbidden/let's romance my general type of vibe. But Dara is an exquisitely written character. The whole game is beautiful but the characters are so full of depth. There's always another layer. Plus, I normally play a shier MC but I like catching Dara off guard. It's so enjoyable. Got me giggling and shit.

There are plenty of other lovely ROs from amazing IFs that I like but these came to the top of my mind and I didn't want to make this too long. I like tropes that f me up emotionally. More tears = better. Rip my heart out. Maybe put it back in. Maybe leave is on the ground. Author's choice.

That said, I go for a lot of different tropes and try to do multiple playthroughs to romance all or most of the cast. I think every character can offer something different and I don't want to miss out <3

#anon reply #thanks for the ask #you're wonderful too anon #I didn't even add my visual novel ROs but I think i answered that a really long time ago.#i love you August #and Markus #and Lucien #and Serin #grabby hands for all ROs

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months

Text

By: Szu Ping Chan

Published: Mar 31, 2024

Britain has a boy problem. If you are born male today, you are increasingly likely to struggle in school, in the workplace and at home.

The gender attainment gap is not new – girls have been outperforming boys at GCSE level for over three decades now, while the number of women completing degrees has exceeded the number of men since the 1990s.

But solving the problem of underachievement among boys has never been more crucial. Economic growth is stalling, productivity is flatlining and public finances are creaking under the strain of growing benefits bills.

At a time when businesses are struggling to hire, more and more men are dropping out of the workforce. Everyone in society must achieve their fullest potential if we are to fix our economic problems.

There is a political dimension too – William Hague earlier this month raised the alarm about the growing numbers of disaffected young men who, with little offered or promised to them in life, were turning to far-Right politics.

There is nothing innate about boys’ underachievement. There is no fundamental reason why outcomes should be getting worse.

Yet without a concerted effort to close the attainment gap, it seems destined to widen. Ever more men and boys will find themselves unwittingly consigned to life’s scrapheap.

The problem is clear – where are the solutions?

Deepening development gap

Before children even step a foot inside the classroom, boys are already behind.

The Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) notes that “a significant gender gap in both cognitive and socio-emotional development” emerges by the age of three.

By the time children start primary school, two-thirds of girls have reached a “good level of development”, suggesting they are able to write a simple sentence or count beyond 20.

Just under two-thirds of boys have hit that same milestone. For children eligible for free school meals, the disparity is even larger.

This gap that opens up at three never completely closes, according to the Institute for Fiscal Studies’ (IFS) analysis of Department for Education data.

“There’s a silent crisis brewing among boys and men in our classrooms, workplaces and communities,” says Richard Reeves, academic and author of Of Boys and Men, which explores the male malaise from cradle to career.

“Boys now lag behind girls and men lag behind women at almost every level of education. That’s true in nearly every rich economy.”

Reeves, a former adviser to Nick Clegg, the former deputy prime minister, says biology is behind some of this gap.

All the academic evidence suggests that the prefrontal cortex – or in Reeves’s words “the part of the brain that helps you get your act together” – develops around a year or two faster in girls than boys.

Girls are not smarter, they just mature faster, Reeves says. “Anyone who spends any time with teenagers knows exactly what I’m talking about.”

His conclusion is that there are simply some “natural advantages of women and girls in the education system”.

Rather than recognise and compensate for this, the system has in fact evolved in ways that favour girls. A switch to more coursework at GCSE level benefitted girls more than boys, according to the IFS, which noted that the gap in performance first emerged in the 1980s when exam-based O levels were replaced by GCSEs in England, Wales and Northern Ireland.

“The shake-up brought a move towards more continuous assessment, which seems to have benefitted girls,” the IFS said in a recent paper.

This idea is “quite hard to get this across because many people say: well if girls and women always had this natural advantage, why didn’t we see it 40 years ago?” Reeves says. “The answer is sexism.

“There is no doubt my mum would have gone to university if she was born 50 years later, but it wasn’t considered to be a thing. But now having taken the lid off, that potential for women in education just keeps going. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just that along the way a lot more men have fallen behind.”

Woes of the white working class

Of course, it would be wrong to suggest women were doing better than men in the working world. A median gender pay gap of 7.7pc still shows women are being shortchanged.

After graduation, men are more likely to get a “highly skilled” job than women and average earnings for a male graduate are around 9pc higher than a female a year after they leave university, according to the IFS.

That gap rises to 31pc a decade later.

However, what is worrying academics, politicians and teachers is that attainment among men and boys seems to be declining while for women it improves.

Average pay adjusted for inflation has fallen by 6.9pc for men since 2008, according to ONS data. Among women, it has climbed 2.2pc. In fact, men’s wages are no higher in real terms today than they were in 2002.

Men have been behind the fall in average hours worked since the pandemic, while women are working more.

Louise Murphy at the Resolution Foundation says the worsening prospects for boys and men reflect structural factors.

“The industrial structure of the UK has changed. Some of these manufacturing jobs that existed don’t exist in the same way now.”

Reeves says: “It used to be true that men with relatively modest levels of education do OK in the labour market. And that is not always the case anymore.”

The experience of boys in schools has led them to “underperform in the labour market” more broadly, he adds.

Achievement has become a particular issue among one subset of boys in particular: the white working class.

“Too many people in society just see these boys as the people on mopeds with a balaclava on their head,” says Andy Eadie, assistant headteacher at Cardinal Langley school in Rochdale. “Actually, that’s only a tiny minority.”

Eadie has taught at the mixed comprehensive school of 1,200 pupils since 2016. A fifth of his pupils are eligible for free school meals.

Many have already been “written off” by teachers as soon as they enter the classroom, Eadie says, particularly if they are white working class boys.

“There is a perception that some boys are already signed off and have no hope,” he says.

“The danger is that people aren’t bothered about these gaps. They’re just bothered about keeping them quiet so they can get on with other things.”

Just 14.6pc of white working class boys went into higher education in 2021. This was the lowest figure of any ethnic or socio-economic group and a third of the overall average, according to research published by the House of Commons Library.

Eadie says: “A lot of young people in the white working class background actually have really low self-esteem.

“And so you’ve got a lot of young people who potentially all underachieve and not feel very good about themselves.”

There are signs that this malaise is adding to Britain’s worklessness crisis. One in three 18 to 24-year-old boys were classed as economically inactive – meaning they’re not in work or looking for a job – in the three months to January, a record high.

The figure is up by more than five percentage points since the end of 2019, before the pandemic. Inactivity among 50 to 64-year-old men has climbed five times slower over the same period.

The inactivity rate among young men has roughly doubled since the early 90s, with almost two million now out of the labour force.

Some are choosing to stay on in education but the share of men not in employment, education or training (NEET) is climbing back towards financial crisis rates at 15.3pc. For women, it has remained on a bumpy but downward path.

“I think it goes back to the idea that we just don’t expect our boys to do well. So they don’t do well,” says Conservative MP Nick Fletcher, who leads the All-Party Parliamentary Group (APPG) for men and boys.

Caroline Barlow, headteacher at Heathfield Community College, has submitted evidence to the APPG suggesting there was a culture of low expectations for male students.

“In the early days, there was a tendency to almost just be grateful if boys were there and they were doing some work,” she said.

By shifting teachers’ expectations of their pupils, results improved and Heathfield was also able to close the gender gap.

Fletcher says: “We expect our boys to behave badly, so they behave badly. We are letting our boys down and unless we actually recognise we have a problem, then we won’t really start searching for the solution.”

Where does the problem start? Some think it is in the home.

Family circumstances have changed dramatically over the past few decades, with a sharp rise in lone parent households as divorce becomes more common or people don’t even get married in the first place. The vast majority of children in these circumstances grow up with their mothers.

In part, this reflects the economic empowerment of women: they can afford to be a single parent.

However, it raises the question of where male role models are coming from. Research conducted jointly by the Fatherhood Institute found that fathers who read to their children every day are contributing to their development and can help to address early attainment gaps.

The Conservative peer Lord Willetts writes in his book, The Pinch: “A welfare system that was originally designed to compensate men for loss of earnings is slowly and messily redesigned to compensate women for the loss of men.”

This too can leave men rudderless in mid-life.

As Reeves puts it in his book: “Economically independent women can now flourish whether they are wives or not. Wifeless men, by contrast, are often a mess. Compared to married men, their health is worse, their employment rates are lower, and their social networks are weaker.”

‘Crisis in masculinity’

The underachievement of men and boys was once seen as almost taboo.

“There have been people who have sniggered when I stood up and asked for a minister for men and a men’s health strategy,” says Fletcher.

“I genuinely believe some of the problems we face are down to the lack of interest in young boys and men, who we’ve always assumed are going to be fine.”

However, politicians have now started to notice.

Wes Streeting, the shadow health secretary, has announced that Labour is looking at introducing a men’s health strategy to address what he describes as a “crisis in masculinity” that is costing lives.

It is understood that Labour’s forthcoming review into mental health by Luciana Berger will include a chapter that focuses on male suicide. It remains the biggest killer of British men aged under 35.

William Hague, the former Tory leader, believes the issue is reshaping politics. He recently highlighted that a majority of men now believe they are being discriminated against, which is fuelling support among young men for extreme parties.

Fletcher is calling for a dedicated minister for men to match the minister for women, Kemi Badenoch, who is also part of the Cabinet as Business Secretary.

Despite overwhelming evidence that boys are falling behind, some colleagues still treat the idea of a dedicated minister with ridicule.

Fletcher says: “I think one of the problems that we’ve had as a society is there’s a lot of reluctance to speak up for men. We’ve noticed it in parliament over the years.”

Reeves wants to challenge the longstanding assumption that gender gaps only run one way.

He takes particular issue with the World Economic Forum (WEF), which looks at progress on gender equality across the world.

Countries are scored on a scale from zero to one, with the former representing no equality and the latter signalling full equality. The problem, says Reeves, is that the index itself assumes that only women have any catching up to do.

For example, it “assigns the same score to a country that has reached parity between women and men and one where women have surpassed men”.

This is a deliberate choice. However, as a result the UK’s educational attainment score stands at 0.999 despite the fact that girls have clearly outperformed boys for decades.

Reeves believes continuing to publish the index in this way is damaging and leads “to a lack of policy attention to the problems of boys and men”. In short, he says: “It makes no sense to treat gender inequality as a one-way street.”

The Government insists it is making progress, with a Department for Education spokesman saying the gender gap “across most headline measures is narrowing across all key phases.

“Education standards have risen sharply across the country, with 90pc of schools now rated good or outstanding by Ofsted, up from just 68pc in 2010.”

Reeves offers some radical solutions to closing the attainment gap in his book, including starting boys a year later in school. Many teachers and academics believe this is not practical and Reeves himself says the idea was designed to spark a debate.

Reeves says the evidence also suggests children should take more frequent breaks at school because boys find it harder than girls to sit still. He himself was put in a special class for English because his teachers felt he lacked focus.

At Balcarras secondary school in Cheltenham, headteacher Dominic Burke felt the only way to tackle what used to be a 15pc gender gap in the GCSE results was to level with his students.

“We got the boys together en masse and said to them: ‘You’re going to underachieve. The girls are going to beat you hands down’. And then we showed them the evidence. Their ability profiles were the same. But we said the reality is girls are going to get better results than you and we challenge you to be the first year group to stop that. We called it the ‘effort challenge’.”

It worked. Competition and the offer of cold, hard cash was enough to encourage many to put the effort in. Boys who were judged to have done so received £20 at the end of term. The school managed to close the gender gap and a few years ago, the boys beat the girls for the first time.

“Competition does work I think, and it’s a good tactic for teaching because it becomes a rewarding experience to meet the challenge,” says Burke. “If you make something more engaging and enjoyable, people are more likely to do it.”

Healing

No survey of the state of boys and men in Britain today can ignore the changing ideas of masculinity.

Whereas men were once seen as breadwinners, American sociologists Kathryn Edin and Maria Kefalas point out that many women in poor US neighbourhoods have come to see them “as just another mouth to feed”. This is disorientating.

Yet perhaps the way to survive as a man in the job market of the future is to junk ideas of traditional masculinity altogether. Many of the jobs of the future will be in things like caring and education.

Reeves wants governments to spearhead a drive to get more men into health, education, administration, and literacy jobs – which he brands HEAL – just as they have ploughed efforts into getting more women into science, technology, engineering, and mathematics – or STEM roles.

Increasing the number of male teachers would also raise the number of role models for boys in class. Three-quarters of state school teachers are women, according to data published by the Department for Education.

The share of men working in state-funded nurseries is even lower, at just 14pc. Around 30pc of primary schools have no male teachers at all.

“I did actually get some funny looks when I first started,” says one male nursery worker who does not wish to be identified.

“Even now I tend to leave the cuddles to my female colleagues as I think there’s still a stereotype that any man who wants to work with young kids has to be some kind of pervert.”

Encouraging more men into these types of jobs would be no small undertaking. Perceptions that men are not suited to caring or creative professions are deep-seated.

Florence Nightingale, who in the 19th century established the principles of modern nursing, insisted that men’s “hard and horny” hands were “not fitted to touch, bathe and dress wounded limbs, however gentle their hearts may be”. The Royal College of Nursing did not even admit men as members until 1960.

Edward Davies, policy director at the Centre for Social Justice think tank, cautions: “It’s absolutely right to remove cultural, perceived and real barriers that keep men from certain careers, especially caring and teaching professions. But we also need to be careful not to pretend men and women are exactly the same.

“At a blunt population level women seem more interested in people and men in things. You would expect to see that reality play out in the jobs they do too. Imposing quotas or expectations that all professions should be evenly split between men and women will probably drive some people into careers they are not suited to.”

Fixing Britain’s boy problem may be harder than even experts think.

[ Via: https://archive.today/AFaiR ]

The people who talk endlessly about "equality" and "equal rights" are strangely silent when it comes to areas where boys and men fall behind: education, health and lifespan, and life satisfaction.

https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0205349

[ The Basic Index of Gender Inequality (BIGI, x-axis) as a function of the Human Development Index (HDI, y-axis).

BIGI is the average of 3 components: Ratio in healthy life span, ratio in overall life satisfaction, and ratio in educational opportunities during childhood (see Materials and Methods for details). Deviation from zero implies the extent of gender inequality. The plot shows the largest contributor to the overall score for each nation: Purple dots indicate healthy life span is the most important component, green dots indicate educational opportunities, and red dots indicate overall life satisfaction. The Ns indicate for each level of HDI how many nations have a BIGI score greater than 0, and how many less than 0. ]

Almost like it isn't "just about equality."

#Szu Ping Chan #education #education crisis #boy crisis #equality #religion is a mental illness

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