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villainousshakespeare · 2 years

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Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 2

Loki/OFC Rated M (may go up to E in future chapters) Trigger Warnings: Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics

Chapter 1

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos @just-the-hiddles-reads @alwida10

Taking a deep breath as she heard the door click back into place, Caroline tried to center herself again before beginning once more with her patient.

“Oh dear, I hope there are no problems, Doctor?” Loki asked, false concern coloring his voice.

“No, no problems,” Caroline smiled at him. “I learned how to deal with gun-toting bureaucrats long ago.”

“If you would like, I could deal with him for you,” the God suggested. “Simply be so good as to unlock my manacles and I will gladly make sure that particular problem is out of the way permanently.”

From a purely ethical perspective, Caroline had issues with a patient being chained during a session. I this instance, however, she had a strong suspicion that no amount of persuasion would convince the magical being seated before her to remain once the cuffs were removed. While it was not her preference to treat an unwilling patient, this particular one was so clearly in desperate need of her services that she was persuaded to make an exception.

“I hardly think interrupting our therapy session is a capital offense,” she said after a moment’s reflection.

“Therapy? Is that what this is supposed to be?”

“Of a sort,” she shrugged. “We can call it something else if the term offends you.”

“I merely find it humorous. After all, where I am headed the status of my emotions is like to matter little. And after that… well, I won’t have to deal with pesky emotions at all.”

“And will that be a relief for you?” she took a gamble, probing him a bit.

“Emotions are a weakness. The sooner you learn that dear doctor, the better you’ll be.”

“I think emotions can be our greatest strength. However, seeing everything you have been through in your long life, I can understand why you might have some hesitation about that.”

“And what could you possibly know about my life?” Loki scoffed.

“Well, you told me a bit about it,” she pointed out. “You were abandoned by your birth father, taken from your home, lied to by your adopted parents, overlooked in favor of an adored sibling, and to top it all off, you found out about your true nature in a horribly traumatic fashion. That’s enough to make anyone want to emotionally shut down. Either that or tumble off the deep end into emotional chaos.”

“Don’t make chaos sound so unappealing,” Loki said. “It can be quite liberating. And after all, I do rule over it as a God.”

“That’s right, you’re God of Chaos and Lies as well as Mischief.”

“I prefer to think of it as stories more than lies,” Loki said innocently. “Lies just sounds so naughty, doesn’t it? But then, maybe that’s part of the appeal.”

“Don’t try to distract me with semantics,” Caroline told him with a disarming smile, ignoring how appealing it was when he said the word. “We were talking about your reaction to the discovery of your true origins. I take it you embraced chaos.”

“It is my nature.”

“You sent the Destroyer, I think it’s called? To Earth to kill your brother.”

“Kill or be killed, what would you do?”

“Not commit fratricide, I hope. Did you really think Thor would kill you?”

“What was I meant to think?” Loki exploded. “All of our lives, he spoke of killing every last Jotun. He dreamed of it. Longed for it. Planned endlessly for the day when he could carry out those dreams as King. Why should I ever suspect that a weekend on this dreary planet would turn him into a simpering puppy where they were concerned? All because of a pair of big brown eyes.”

“You mean Jane Foster?”

“That woman. I had tried to reason with Thor for centuries. Pointed out the problematic nature of genocide, counseled restraint and diplomacy, and for centuries I was mocked for it. Then a pretty female makes the exact same arguments and suddenly Thor is a pacifist?”

“He had changed when he came back to Asgard.”

“In some ways. In others he was exactly the same as always. He had experienced this grand epiphany and was now a warrior for peace, and therefore everyone else must instantly and intuitively know that the world had reordered itself. A mere handful of days prior he had tried to bring about the end of the Jotunheim himself and considered it worthy of songs and celebrations. But when I attempted the same, attempted to show that my loyalty was and always would be to Asgard and our family, I was a criminal, interested in only death and destruction! I spent my life pushing back against Thor and Odin’s reflexive shows of brute force, and the moment I finally embraced the family way they changed it! Why should I be held to a standard different from the one they set all my life? How is that fair?”

Heaving himself off of the bench, Loki strode over to the side of his cell farthest from the watching guards and leaned his head on a forearm pressed to the glass. Caroline could see the rise and fall of his back as he struggled to get his emotions under control.

“It’s not,” she said simply.

“What?” the word was barely audible from where he stood.

“It’s not fair,” she said again.

“Careful doctor,” he warned, turning his head to look at her. “You contradict the great rulers of Asgard and the Nine Realms.”

“How fortunate for me then that I am not one of their subjects.”

“The AllFather may not see it that way.”

“Loki, I know it may sound blasphemous, but I really don’t care what Odin thinks, or Thor either. For the former, I have never met him, and from everything I have heard I am grateful for it. As for Thor… I have met him on a handful of occasions. He strikes me as carelessly kind, overly headstrong, and more than a touch egotistical. Not terribly dissimilar from several other enhanced people I have come across in my line of work. I have a casual linking for him, but I cannot imagine how irritating it would be to be his sibling. The only member of the Asgardian royal family I am interested in right now is you.”

“Why Caroline,” Loki purred, turning with a predatory gleam and sauntering deliberately over to the table where she sat, “why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

***

She was good, he had to give her that. Most of the mortals Loki had met since arriving on Earth would have shrunk back visibly with him looming over them, manacles of no. He was considerably tall by their standards, and he had learned several hundred years ago how to use his presence to his advantage. Instead of flinching away from him, Dr. Thorpe just directed a quizzical look up at him, as though trying to decipher what secret his new tactic was hiding. Only the pulse he could see beating rapidly in her neck betrayed any kind of alarm.

She smelled nice. The thought passed irrelevantly through his mind. A light smell of strawberries that he believed must be from her shampoo surrounded her. Loki had always enjoyed the fruit, particularly when matched with chocolate.

“If you are trying to intimidate me,” she said hardily, “you will have to try better than that.”

“Intimidate you? On the contrary, I was trying to entice you. Are my skills as rusty as that?”

“It’s interesting that your words when flirting are move removed from your true self than any of the other words you have spoken thus far. If I were to guess, I would say you were not one to give your heart over rapidly to another the way Thor did with Jane. Is that part of why it surprised you so much?”

“Why would I ever give my heart to anyone?” he asked, still keeping his voice pleasant as he sat on the edge of her desk, crowding into her space. “I am not so cruel. And who in their right mind would want such a tarnished thing?”

“Tarnish is easy enough to scrub off,” she shrugged. “And I would think there would be many people willing to take a gamble with yours.”

“Indeed? Are you saying I’m attractive, Caroline?”

“You are undeniably handsome,” she admitted. “On top of that, you are intelligent, curious, I would guess talented in many different fields.”

“Oh, I am,” he made his voice as suggestive as possible, and felt a moment of victory when her face blushed slightly.

“I think, after some work, you would make some person an excellent partner.”

“Work?”

“Forgiving yourself.”

“What in Hel do I have to forgive myself for?” he snapped, standing up off the table.

“Not being Thor,” she sighed.

Loki felt as though she had slapped him across the face. So, it turned out this doctor was no different than all the rest. She judged him not by who he was, or even who he might be, but by how far he fell from the perfect golden idol that was Thor. Why had he ever expected different?

“No, Loki, wait,” she said quickly, laying a hand on his arm.

Loki stared down, thinking idly that she was touching him precisely where the Frost Giant had all that time ago. Her touch was warm though, and she grasped him gently as though attempting to heal him instead of trying to burn. He could not remember the last time a person had touched him with anything less than thinly contained violence, and he found himself frozen in place.

“You misunderstand,” she continued, looking up at him. “I am not saying that I think you should be like Thor. I think that even trying to be is an error on your part.”

“Because I am so fundamentally lacking?”

“In some ways, but in others you are so fundamentally more. From everything I read about Asgard before seeing you today, and everything you have told me, the social hierarchy sounds like that of a common high school here on Earth. Thor is strong, brash, brave, all those things. But he doesn’t think before he acts. He doesn’t even really believe a person should think first. In a culture that celebrates battles and strength, he shines. He is an instrument as blunt and inflexible as his hammer, and good for similar functions.

“You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite. You are agile, reflexive, fluid, graceful. Your mind is just as much of a weapon as any tangible object, and I would wager much more lethal. You will survive far better than your brother, because you know how and when to swerve or bend but never surrender. The Asgardians, with their black and white mentality, would not be able to see what a great advantage this is.”

“That is true,” he said begrudgingly.

“Now, let’s look at your childhood again. You were brilliant, I assume, from a young age. That would have made your teachers envious, and I can imagine that you did nothing to hide your superiority to them.”

“A God does not hide his gifts.”

“And they are gifts!” she pounced. “So, if your teachers resent you for the most part, and the other children see more value in arms than in books, what then? Your father spent all of your formative years recounting battles to you, it couldn’t help but glorify skills at arms. The entire society you were planted in revolved around them. And you, from before you understood, would have internalized this.

“And then the final knell – Thor is given Mjornir and the crown.”

“That was never in doubt,” Loki lied. He had dared to hope, long ago now, that the throne of Asgard might fall to him. That somehow he could prove to Odin that he was worthy of his pride and love. He had been a fool.

“You might have known intellectually, but it still would have hurt,” she shook her head.

It had hurt more than he cared to remember. The worst was that no one seemed to even consider that he might feel anything other than delighted on his brother’s behalf. He had been happy, in a fashion. He loved Thor back then with an ease that he grieved the lack of now. Still, that one small, kernel of hope had always remained that somehow, he could convince their father that he was not just a spare prince, dark shadow following behind Thor’s gleaming sun.

“What does it matter?” he asked with a sigh.

“It matters! It matters because you matter. Yes, Odin chose Thor. But that is because Odin has no more imagination than your brother. He wants Asgard to continue on as it has always done. In Thor, he has a perfect reflection of himself. He didn’t choose you because you would have tried new things, made improvements, and, yes, mistakes as well. But you would have changed the status quo. You were not less than, Loki. You were unique.”

Loki walked back to the bench, her words echoing in his head. Had he been comparing himself to Thor all this time? He had thought that he had ceased to do so years ago. Still, the constant praise of his brother rang in his ears. The worship in everyone’s eyes all but blinded him. He had tried to see the irony in it all, to see the throngs who followed his brother as lemmings, nuisances at best.

Magic had helped, a little. His mother had done her best to give him something of his own, and he had seized on it with embarrassing eagerness. He could still remember the first time he had faced Thor across the pitch, their father watching expectantly from the sidelines, knowing that he had a new advantage his brother would never possess. It had all gone as usual. Thor had attacked head on while Loki dodged and danced, blades flashing. Then, summoning all of his magical strength, Loki had blurred his image so that Thor was not sure where he truly started and stopped. It was a crude version of a trick he could do without thinking now. It had been enough to confound his brother, who threw himself at the wrong side of Loki and ended up lying face down in the dirt, Loki’s dagger pressed to the back of his neck.

Loki had been ecstatic. Surely, at last, he would hear Odin’s praise. Instead, his father had looked at him coldly from his one good eye, face unpleased.

“Tricks,” he had said. “Unsporting in this sort of battle. I had expected more from you.”

Odin had turned around and walked away, leaving Loki crushed. Frigga had tried to ease his hurt, assuring him that he had done the spell just right, and she was so proud of him, but the damage had been done. He told himself he gave up on trying to win Odin’s approval at that moment, but he knew it was a lie. A part of him wanted it still.

“Tell me what living creature ever dreamed of being unique,” Loki asked quietly. “Unique is just another word for alone.”

“Unique is special,” Dr. Thorpe countered. “Loki, you don’t have to be alone.”

“Would you link yourself to me, Doctor?” he asked, thinking to call her bluff. “There is, after all, very little time left. Would you stay with me until the axe falls, be it tomorrow or the next day?”

“If you wish it,” she surprised him with the answer. “I don’t think the axe has to fall, necessarily, but even if it does, I will be there with you, if you like. As a friend.”

“A friend,” the word tasted strange on his tongue. “Friend to the one who tried to subjugate your kind? Who killed humans without a second thought?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you are what you were made to be, and no one deserves to be alone.”

“Yet in the end, we are all. And so shall I be.”

“Loki, I will ask you one last time, do you want to die?”

Loki looked at her, truly considering the question for the first time. He did not actively seek out death, not since he had let go of Gungnir a fallen into the abyss. In that moment he had, indeed, longed for an end to all the pain. Instead, the true pain had only just begun. Wincing away from the memory, he brought himself to the present.

No, he did not particularly want to die. He just was not sure he wanted to live. He knew who hunted him, somewhere in the greater galaxy. He had thought he might be safe on Asgard. Surely his father, he had believed, even if he was not so by blood, would take him back rather than leave him to the barbaric Midgardians. An Asgardian jail cell would not be pleasant, but at least it would be marginally safer. Even one as mad as his pursuer would not risk a head on confrontation with Odin AllFather.

It had not happened that way. Odin had washed his hands of his Jotun pawn. Loki was on his own, with nothing standing between him and more of the agony he had endured in his captivity.

“It might be better for all involved were it to be over,” he said at last. “I fear you have wasted your time with me. Let them end it and save yourselves.”

“Save ourselves from what? From you?”

“No, my threat is over.”

“Then what? Loki, what are you afraid of?”

“I told you, I fear nothing!”

Lies, of course.

“I don’t believe you. Everyone has fears.”

“And what are yours?” he asked, suddenly angry at her for making him feel. “Tell me, Caroline, what are your deepest, darkest fears that keep you up at night? Is it loneliness for you, is that why you hope to see it in me? Do you lie there, alone in your bed with no one to care for you? Only your work to keep you warm in the cold hours of the night? Would you cling to me in my uniqueness because you fear to be on your own?”

“In part, yes, probably,” she agreed with him, startling him once again. “I do know what it is like to be different. To keep others at arm’s length. I know what it is to be alone.”

“Well then, shall we comfort each other? You are not uncomely.”

He had meant to intimidate her, to drive her away, but as he drew closer to her, Loki realized that he would not mind spending time with her. She was more attractive than he had made it sound, and he could feel himself responding to her. Against his will, he began imagining her eyes, frank and compassionate, darkened with desire. Or perhaps it was not all his imagination. Her pulse was racing again, and her pupils had dilated as she looked up at him.

“What you suggest would not be appropriate,” her voice was more strained than it had been before.

“Because I am a terrorist?” he murmured, close to her ear.

“Because you are my patient.”

“I politely decline your services, doctor. At least, your professional services. You had said you would keep me company. We could become quite friendly if you desire.”

“I think this is a good time for a break,” she said crisply, standing and smoothing her hands over her skirt.

“I thought you wanted to stay with me,” he smirked.

“We need food,” she told him. “I will go arrange something and be back shortly.

Loki grinned as she hurried from the room, but the humor faded quickly. He had won that round, he believed. So why did the victory feel so hollow?

#Loki #Loki fic #fan fic #post Avengers Assemble #angst #therapy #talk of suicidal thoughts in previous chapters #Loki needs a hug #trauma #Loki/OFC #Loki needs a friend #eventual romance #unhealthy family dynamics #Odin sucks #odin's a+ parenting #Can we hug him please?#inapropriate flirting

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years

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I have a question! I have a question! 🥺👉👈

Would you ever be open to write a "hunting" piece from Mishas perspective? It would be very interesting to see/know/read what is going on inside his head. The itch and never ending desire to hurt/kill and satisfaction that comes but eventually never stays for too long. Would he let you inside his head for such a piece?

CW: Killer POV, serial killer, some brief references to eye and tooth whump daydreams, murder, some seriously unhealthy family dynamics, jesus

It's not that he means to... not exactly.

It's not his fault.

It's only that, after a while, his schoolday distraction becomes scribbled doodles of terrified faces, circles with big circle eyes and mouths and red blood in gashes over their foreheads, their faces, drooling from the black hole of a mouth. Sometimes other people see him drawing and laugh, or look uneasy, or stop looking at him at all. He doesn't try to think about it, he really doesn't. It's just... a few months go by, and then, hunched in his seat ignoring the math teacher who ignores him in return, he starts thinking about the bones under everyone's skin.

He chews on the ends of pens until they're pockmarked from his teeth and the ink threatens to spill all over the desk... and he can see all their skulls, collarbones, ribcages splayed open like his mother's thick arms welcoming him home from summer vacation with family near Moscow.

He thinks about arms.

Alicia Wyatt, in the front row to the left by the window - she'd have delicate tissue linking thin, graceful humerus to radius and ulna. She'd shed skin like a snake if he slipped the knife between the layers just right. But her parents are overprotective... they'd see she didn't come home on time right away.

No good. Couldn't be her.

Ben Pillman, in homeroom? His parents don't give a fuck about him. He's got the best voice in chorus, and a pretty smile and perfect teeth. He'd scream louder than anyone else. He's got nice hair, too. Scalp him and see how good looking they think he is, then. The girl Misha asked to Homecoming last year said she wasn't going to go, and then she went anyway with Ben Pillman, who told Misha later in the bathroom that he had no idea she'd been asked by anyone else, and that he was sorry that she'd lied to Misha. He'd given Misha a hug, and told him that he didn't really like April anyway.

No, can't do it to him. He's been nice, when he didn't have to be. He waves at Misha in the hallway sometimes, even now, a year later. He still waves, says hello.

Misha remembers to say hi back most of the time.

Artyom is always saying that he should be nicer to people, if they're nice to him. Tyoma, quiet and feline and dark, has girls who watch him everywhere he goes - and one of Misha's friends, John B., watches him, too. He probably comes over just to stare at Artyom when he goes through the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of his shirt riding up when he yawns and stretches his arms overhead.

Misha doesn't mind. John B. isn't really his friend, anyway. Just someone easier to keep around than the others. John likes to watch him play video games, and he never asks to have a turn himself. Misha can forget he's even there until dinner time, and then his mother tells him it's so nice to see he has friends, asks John B. to stay which he always does.

Tyoma knows that he doesn't care about John B., but he never says anything. He doesn't mind either, isn't bothered by John B. having a crush on him. No, Tyoma just watches Misha, dark eyes locked on him, waiting.

Waiting to see it build in him until he might explode, there's so much pressure beneath the surface of his skin.

But no. Can't be Ben Pillman, or John B., or Alicia Wyatt.

Not anyone at school, not even Yolanda Martin, who eats fruit loops for breakfast, crunching handfuls straight out of a ziploc bag in the cafeteria during the free time between arriving and everyone heading for their first class of the day. She chews with her mouth open. It's disgusting and Misha thinks sometimes about popping out all her teeth one by one by one by one.

She would fight and curse and spit, she wouldn't scream at all. And her blood would be thick, sludge from lack of hydration. She only drinks Mountain Dew, even early, before homeroom.

Artyom won't let him think too long about anyone he actually knows. He'll elbow Misha if he's looking too long at Yolanda while she eats, whisper Khvatit pyalit'sya, choknutaya - quit staring, stalker. People he knows are too suspicious, there are too many connections between them for some asshole police officer to play with, turn into a case.

The thing is, it doesn't matter if he wants to or not, it... it builds.

He tells his brother the feeling is like having an itch entirely inside his brain. It begins as a heavy, weighted boredom, and unsettled certainty that nothing important will ever happen again. Video games stop being fun to play. His music even means nothing to him, is just noise. He taps his pencil in class until his teachers snap at him to stop, he pays no attention. The words shift and move when he tries to read, they reform into nothing.

Misha saw a movie once, a horror movie, in theaters. In it the killer heard a voice telling him what to do. Misha never hears a voice, or sees hallucinations. He just gets... bored.

And the boredom grows, day by day, until he can't stand it any longer. He starts to see the veins in his father's heart bursting with fear as his younger son strangles him, his mother's tears if he aimed a gun. It starts to weigh heavier and heavier within his mind, the cycling thoughts that can't be shaken.

The cashier at the coffee shop? He sees her head rolling away from her body. The clerk at the gas station who laughs at Tyoma's terrible jokes? He could chop the guy's hands off one by one. It gets worse and worse, and there's only one way to cure the itch.

He sneaks out a lot, after dark - taking Tyoma with him usually, the two of them clutching bottles of cheap vodka an older guy buys them from a corner store for five bucks over the purchase price, heading out into the woods on quiet feet.

"Don't do it," Tyoma will whisper, sometimes in English, sometimes not. Misha ignores him.

Misha always ignores him.

Tyoma comes along with him anyway.

"Misha, please don't-"

"We're just drinking, Tyoma, relax." But they both know there's more to it than that, that they are buying time. That Tyoma is buying him some time. Tyoma never argues, though. He just nods - he knows it's his job to take care of Misha, who is smaller and used to be sickly and everyone's sort of never noticed that he really isn't sickly anymore.

He's always taken care of Misha, he's always been there to help him with everything he needs. Family comes first, always, and they are each other's family more than anyone else is. Tyoma is his brother, his alone, and he never denies Misha anything in the end.

Sometimes, Tyoma asks him to stay in the woods, in their secret place. They store the bottles of vodka in a cooler they keep in a hole they dug in the ground under a bush, sit on a mattress they know other people use for grosser reasons, pull the bottles out to take swigs that burn down their throat and giggle and talk about girls and movies and whatever else.

It helps... for a while.

A month, maybe.

Two months... three.

Then it doesn't.

Then, even sitting with Tyoma, Misha will grow silent and sullen and stare off into the darkness of the night around him, listening to the scratching and rustling of the underbrush and the wind through the woods.

The only time he is afraid of himself is when he starts dreaming about Tyoma, too.

With the inside of his head a heavy place, he feels chilled when he starts to think about how his older brother would look with his face cut down from those sharp-edged cheekbones, hands around his neck. He thinks about pushing Tyoma into a fire, how it would feel to have a body thrash wildly against his in a desperate effort to stay alive. He dreams about wiping him clean of fingerprints, of proof, about lying to his mother and his father, burying him in their secret place in the woods and coming to drink with his corpse.

He dreams about carrying Tyoma inside of him, being the last one to see him alive.

That's when he knows he can't wait any longer.

That's when he walks the side of the road with his thumb out and his duffel bag on one shoulder, or stalks bars at closing time, or just walks through the parking lot of an apartment complex seeing who will open a door if he knocks, who is out alone in the dark.

Tyoma, always, follows. His shadow, off to the side, keeping himself invisible until it's time to clean up the mess. Sitting silent in the backseat of the car that picks them up, as they ride for a while. Standing silent as Misha kills the driver in a ditch, watching, waiting for his part in things to begin.

The actual act isn't really fun anymore - they all die the same. They fight and scream or cry and give up but they die. They just... die. And then he has to cut them up, into trash bags he and Tyoma spread around dumpsters outside of fast food places until it's done, wash their faces in public bathrooms and then take quick showers once they get home in the middle of the night, grimy and with a layer of what they've done thicker than oil.

But he can't stop, even though it isn't fun like it was when he started. Now he has to do it just to keep the boredom from driving him out of his mind, making him turn on his family, and family matters more than his own mind. His family keeps him together, he needs them for a place to live and someone to hear his thoughts, someone other than himself. Now he has to do it just to keep in check the worst thoughts that linger on how his older brother would look pale and with eyes wide with horror forever, his final expression one of betrayal, dirt dumped onto his face until it disappears.

He and Tyoma clean themselves up, after, and Misha sleeps for the first time in days, and when he wakes up the itch is gone. He smiles at breakfast and laughs at Tyoma's jokes. He feels fine.

For... a while, anyway.

A few months, maybe more, maybe less.

Sometimes Tyoma begs him to tell someone that he cannot seem to stop, but he only smiles, and gives his brother a hug, and whispers, Tvoya sem'ya prevyshe vsego, Tyoma.

Family first.

He's never sure how to tell Tyoma what he knows to be true, deep within himself. They are the only two people on Earth who matter, who are really real, just he and his brother. And if he can't stop the itch and he kills Tyoma, then he'll be all alone.

And who would help him then?

#antoni sings lullabies #misha #whump #whumper POV #serial killer #murder tw #discussion of murder #creepy whumper #killer whumper #horror fiction #original fiction #original characters #damn now I will be thinking about this creepy motherfucker all night #unhealthy family dynamics #oh god

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torn-out-inside-out · 1 year

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TW: family issues, forced coming out, gaslighting

When my mother wants something, no one will be able to stop her. Not mentioning the fact that you do NOT want to try to stop her. It'll end up badly for you. Always.

She wanted to make a birthday party for me, invite our family members and my gf.

The thing is, I don't want my gf to spend any unnecessary time with my family, especially if it's a stressful event for me, such as a birthday party.

So I spent two hours talking to my mother about it and:

a) she told me and making her look like a monster

b) compared me to my sister (which is never a good thing)

c) gaslit me about past

d) told me she already put so much effort into my family accepting my gf for her not to come

aka she told my family I'm gay (even my grandparents) while I was trying to keep it down the whole several years

and I can't say a shit because "she already put so much effort into it"

e) so much more happened I almost cried myself to sleep

Ffs mother

#personal #family #coming out #unhealthy family dynamics

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unravelingwires · 2 months

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Conjunctively

“I expected her to be upset,” Lara said, “but I didn’t expect her to lose her mind like this.”

Jaya looked over to where Vivien, her eyes red and dark-rimmed from sleep deprivation, was pouring over spellbooks. “I get it. It’s hard to lose the person you were made to serve.”

#To be conjunctive is to be joined or combined #jaya: no my relationship with my birth family was perfectly healthy what are you talking about #jaya and lara are at their best when they're being catty together #there are so many love tags on this website and not one for siblings #anyways #unhealthy family dynamics #my writing #library of babel #creative writing #unedited #original characters #my ocs #jayaverse

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im-getting-help · 29 days

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AND THE THING ABOUT OLIVER AND BOUNDARIES!

Is so obvious to me that his parents were party at fault for his lack of boundaries. Not because they we're malicious and intentional about it, but because they loved him so much they tend to cross his limits.

(Kinda like what Oliver did with Felix, but less obsessive).

From my experience it's something relatively normal about the relationship between parents and their children. The first time we really understand boundaries is when we enforce them to separate ourselves from our parents expectations. It seems to me that Oliver never learned how to do that. He's constantly molding himself to appease and appeal, and when it becomes to much, he flees.

Let's go back to the little things Paula and Jeff share with us in that brief birthday scene.

"He always wanted to be an only child, always beetling off by himself"

"He was so clever, that's why he found it hard to make friends, they were jealous".

"It's been hard not seeing him. But it must be a lot of pressure being the top scholar and being in the rowing team, and the union, and the plays..."

Let's start with the lies.

How long ago Oliver started lying to his parents to make space for himself?

Cause the lies don't necessarily feel like something he used to impress them. It seems to me like the Quicks already thought Oliver was exceptionally smart "he was always so clever" and he's just keeping appearances.

But the amount of things he said he did. The plays, the rowing team, the union, the work of studying to maintain the "top scholar position" like reading, doing work and essays and projects, assisting to classes, lectures and tutorials, it's a lot!.

"It's been hard not seeing him". How many times Paula called just to be ignored or quickly dismissed? with an excuse like "sorry i have an essay due tomorrow" or "im going to practice for the play". And why Oliver wanted to separate himself so much from his family?

"He always wanted to be an only child, always beetling off by himself" why would Oliver wanted to separate himself not only from his parents but his siblings too?

The Quicks said that "We go to to Mykonos every year. Well, not anymore. Not now that the kids are all grown up". That makes me think that Oliver sisters are older than him. Oliver doesn't seem to have a close relationship with them either. Was it because of the age gap? How much older were her sisters? Maybe they had to babysit and that created a second-mother kind of dynamic?

It sounds like he was being smothered by them. And again, i'm not saying it was intentional, but maybe Oliver needed much more space that what the Quicks were able or willing to give. And he didn't know how to ask.

And maybe (only maybe cause i don't really have good foundation for this) Oliver learned that the best way to get space from them was saying he was occupied, specifically studying. So maybe it started at school, him saying that he had to finish homework or read a book or do project, and maybe these were the only times he'll be left alone. Maybe that was the perfect excuse to explain why he didn't have many friends too.

(and i wonder why a kid with no sense of boundaries would have a hard time making friends 👀)

And why Oliver keeps lying?

After moving to Oxford, he could've just draw back and create that space without making an excuse. But he didn't, because he cares, he likes that his family thinks he's intelligent and capable. But he doesn't care for spending time with them.

I don't think he said all those lies to look especially intresting or important, but he did choose to "be occupied" by being a good student. Not in a "i won an award for best performance" but a "I'm too busy to talk, i have tutorial"

And look at the way the Quicks react to Oliver saying he has to go, is very interesting.

Paula just gives up instantly. She offers a compromise, and when rejected she's obviously frustrated but she just lets it go. On the other hand Jeff tries to reason with his son a little "your mother spent all morning doing lunch" but they seem very accustomed to this situation. It's not the first time Oliver escapes a conversation.

So, to me, is obvious that Oliver's parents knowingly or unknowingly contributed to Oliver's lack of healthy boundaries.

He never really draw the line with them, he just made excuses to avoid and elude and ultimately flee when the situation got out of hand. And they never picked up on it, they kept repeating the same scenarios multiple times without having a conversation about it.

I feel like his parents never really confronted him about anything. Maybe because they didn't sense anything was wrong, maybe because, same as the Cattons, they didn't know how to approach the situation or maybe because they know Oliver gets really fcking upset whenever they tried to have a conversation about it, who knows.

So at the end we have a 20yo dude who never learned how to enforce a boundary or why is healthy to have them and has absolutely no idea how to perceive and not cross others limits.

#Idk #Oliver's parents fascinate me #his whole family actually #why is Oliver the way he is?#if his family is so normal #(is the undiagnosed bpd)#the magical thing about families is that they don't need to be hostile towards eachother to develop unhealthy dynamics #sometimes the simple fact that their ways of communicating don't match is enough to create trauma and hurtful cycles #Oliver go to therapy i beg you please im on my knees go to therapy ily please #oliver quick #saltburn #felix catton

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 8 days

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More clone wars headcanons (it's just Ahsoka and Anakin)

No matter how only Ahsoka gets Anakin will always see her as that little 14 year old who strong-armed her way onto a battlefield

Honestly he isn’t very aware of this but there are tiny moments when it becomes very clear

There are moments when people ask how old his padawan is and he’ll go “Oh she’s” and he’ll take a moment for some mental calculations and say “she’s 18 kriff she’s 18”

And he’ll kinda sit in silence with that fact for a couple of seconds

There’s also moments when people will call him out for getting her age wrong

Like he’ll go “Don’t bite off more than you can chew Soka you’re only 14 after all”

Ahsoka will reminds him in two days she’s be turning 20 when Anakin argues that fact Obi-Wan reminds him that he’s 25 which would make her 20 in a couple of days Anakin just kinda stares at a wall

Ahsoka tried to snap him out of it but Obi-Wan stopped her with a quite “let him grieve Ahsoka”

No matter how old the two get they will always play pranks on each other if anything the intensity grows with them

When Ahsoka when 14 she would save small handfuls of sand to put in Anakin’s shoes

And he would have thought it was just left over from some mission if the sand didn’t keep appearing after he emptied it out

That and he caught Ahsoka red-handed and chased her sneaky ass around the temple until they were both too tired to care

When Ahsoka turned 20 she hid sand everywhere in his shoes and in his pockets, girl even got it in some of his mugs

He knew it was her cause he knew her m.o but she won’t admit to it and she doesn’t stop to matter how much he begs

The breaking point is when he finds his bed covered in sand which he deems going too far cause even tho Padme literally couldn’t care less

He tracked her down and kept her in a headlock until she admitted defeat

It wasn’t a chocking headlock mind you it’s just tight enough to keep her in place he just drags her around the whole base while he goes about his business

Anakin’s prank was pretty simple he would slowly steal all her head wraps

At first she didn’t notice anything she just thought Anakin stole one during training and put it somewhere

But after a couple of days of not being able to find it she discovers another one went missing

And the cycle continued like that for years

It didn’t bother her but sometimes when she was going out with friends and couldn’t find her favorite ones you’d hear her scream “Ani where’s my leather head wrap?”

And he’d act all innocent saying that he “has no idea what you’re talking about snips maybe you misplaced it again”

And she’d groan and go look for a different one because she didn’t have enough time to interrogate him

Anakin waits a couple of years to pull off his full prank which is convincing everyone he can to wear one of her head wraps and act like nothing is going on

And he gets a good amount of people too including some of the clones and even the twins

The only people who wholeheartedly reject being a part of the plan are Padme and Obi-Wan they discovered years ago that it isn’t wise to get involved in their prank war

Honestly Ahsoka would have thought she lost her mind that day if she hadn’t found every single head wrap she lost hidden around her quarters

It kind of becomes a running joke of how protective Anakin is of Ahsoka

Some stories being blown out of proportion about how Skywalker single-handedly moved the ruble to grant her freedom form the tank

Some say how he searched on the ground day and night when Ahsoka was captured by the hunters

Criminals claim they barely made it out with their lives if they had Ahsoka in their custody

They both find these stories hilarious but Obi-Wan and Padme know there is a lot of truth in those stories

It doesn’t just stop with the enemy either this man has and will do intensive background checks on every single person Ahsoka meets

And you best believe that potential love interests are kept under the closest watch possible

Rex and his boys are happy to track down the person if they feel they’re acting a little sketchy

Sometimes this ends with actual criminals being put away and sometimes this ends with Ahsoka scolding everyone who had anything to do with it

Some people get 30+ apology letters and a promise that it will never happen again (most of those people can tell those letters were written with grit teeth and a little togruta standing close by)

Anakin does agree to tone down his protective streak and promises to never abuse his power like that again

She didn’t make him stop giving the shovel talk to literally anyone within a three-mile radius of her (mostly cause she didn’t know he was doing it) so he considered that a win

I’m always reminded of how Anakin made it a game to count how many people their squads took out and I was wondering what other games they had

How many times could they lie to the council without getting caught, how many times they crash a ship, and how many times they save each other's lives

Like imagine Ahsoka tripping Anakin and before he can ask why the hell she did that a blast hits the floor and she just goes “That’s 40 for me” as she runs away

Anakin yelled after her “yeah 40 to my 80 snips”

Those numbers also serve as a reminder and reassurance that no matter how dangerous the situation gets they’ll never let that count stop

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