#Slight PTSD

[cluelessatthispoint]

Never Leaving

Warnings for: Gore, slight animal abuse, creepy/stalker vibes, slight PTSD.

Everyone is busy on a cease-fire day. If everyone is busy who is keeping an eye on Scout? Better yet, who is keeping an eye on Pyro?

~~~~~~~~

The soft ticking of the clock was the only noise that broke the silence of the usually boisterous Tuefort base. Tavish was out visiting his Ma, a somewhat rare but expected occasion. Heavy was doing whatever he does on ceasefire days. And everyone else...well, everyone else was doing their own thing.

Scout sighed, normally on ceasefire days he'd be going out to the nearby town and buying whatever he deemed as essential items. The last time Scout when out to buy his necessities dearest "Hard Hat" took one look at the grocery bags in his arms and narrowed his eyes. Apparently, the latest Tom Jones album and a few cases of Atomic Cherry Bonk were "non-essential" items.

Staring blankly at the magazine resting in his hands, he idly turned the page. Then he turned to the next page, then the page after that. With a groan, he flopped back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

There was nothing to do, no one to mess with, and no one to talk to. The ticking of the clock was his only source of sound that broke the monotonous silence. The soft blanket fibers cushioned as much of the young man as they could from the hard mattress beneath him. From this position, he could feel all the aches and pains from the previous week catching up to him. Sure, the respawn could bring back people from the dead. But still, it didn't help much with the pain of sleeping in the wrong position for long periods of time, or the psychological pain that went along with having your arm and a bit of your abdomen flesh being torn off.

Scout could still feel the harsh unrelenting grip of the enemy Heavy gripping his forearm and twisting. With a soft sound, quite uncharacteristic of himself, he rolled up the magazine and threw it at the door, hitting it dead in the center; the impact making a hollow 'thunk' sound. With a frustrated groan, he slid down the bed and ended up in a seated position with his knees curled into his chest.

Only one thought coursed through his mind 'I'm so bored'.

Looking around his baseball-centric room his wandering eyes scanned over various posters and sports gear. He'd take going out on the battlefield without a weapon over being bored like this. With a soft clench of his fists, he rose steadily to his feet and walked over to his door, and swung it open softly, as if not to disturb the immense quiet that hung over the base. As he was closing the door a soft dragging noise filled the hall. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere down the hallway, upon closer inspection the dragging noise was coming from Pyro's room.

Scout's eyes widened. 'Aw crap, what's Pyro got in here this time?'

'Please don't be a person! please don't be a person! please don't be a person!'

His thoughts ran wildly, fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins.

The last time that a mysterious noise was heard from the resident flame thrower's room it turned out to be a coyote trying to chew through its own leg to get out of the string that the arsonist roped it in. The pitiful creature was brought to Medic and the "Firebug" as the Engineer so lovingly called him was given a stern lecture about endangered wildlife. How much was understood by the Pyro, no one really knew. Again the dragging/shuffling noise broke the silence.

'If I go in, I might die. If I don't go in I might die of boredom.' Weighing the pros and cons of this situation didn't help at all to quell his nerves...or his inquisitiveness.

With a steady hand, Scout knocked on the door two times.

"Hey, Pyro? You okay in there?"

A few mmphs sounded through the door.

"I hope that you don't have any animals in there with ya! Remember what happened last time? We had to bring the Coyote to Medic and he's a people doctor, not an animal doctor!"

Although, with that being said the Medic's astounding knowledge of animal biology made his previous statement seem rather questionable. Scout's train of thought broke when the sound of a lock being clicked open. The door to the Pyro's room swung open and fast gloved hands grabbed at the Scout's shoulders and brought him inside with a speed that put the resident speedster to shame.

"Whoa! Easy! What da hell man!?"

Scout's panicked unfocused eyes landed on the table in the center of the room. His rapid breathing slowed to a normal pace when he realized what lay dead center on the table.

"A tea set? you're having a tea party? All by yourself? Really? Now that's just sad."

With a turn of his heels, he moved to walk back out the door...only to be grabbed by his shoulders and manhandled into a tiny chair made for children. Scout did nothing as the Pyro grabbed a small butterknife and stabbed it into the table only a few inches away from his thigh.

With a shaky breath, Scout reached for his empty teacup and hesitantly took a sip of the imaginary tea.

'I'll just wait for the rest of the team to come back, then I can leave.'

Scout looked into the dark eyesockets of the gasmask...

'Yep, I can totally wait this out.' He could feel all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, despite the room's warmth he barely contained a shiver.

As for the moment the Pyro made it clear that the Scout was staying for this tea party, whether he liked it or not.

[worstloki]

love the idea of the Avengers adding new members but being stingy about rooms so the OG Avengers each get their own but Bucky and Loki are forced to share one under the guise of it being 'healthy interaction'

[thebl4ckstar]

anytime all the young dudes play on my spotify the closer I am to killing myself

[soliusss]

shoutout all my guys with freak sigma loner autism instead of quirky extroverted autism. I’m finally coming to terms with the fact I’ll never be able to make any friends in real life ever again since I’m reaching complete burnout and have lost 90% of my ability to mask.

[milo-is-rambling]

I can’t even imagine living without anxiety. Like. How. What?

[dawnthefox24]

*MW Hanzo looks down for a moment spacing out for a moment getting lost in thought as his mind wonders off to Genji* MW Hanzo:* is being forced to watch MW Genji getting killed slowly in front of him * MW Genji:*Is crying in pain* ANJIA PLEASE STOP THEM!! MW Hanzo: *looks at the hashimoto goons pleading* Please...Please...Please..Stop...Please...Please!! I'll join just spare him please!! MW Genji: *Is covered in blood crying harder* ANJIA IT HURTS!! PLEASE TELL THEM TO STOP!!! MW Hanzo: *Is now crying* FUCK JUST STOP !!! PLEASE!!PLEASE LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!!! ~~~~~ MW Hanzo:*removes his mask as he tossed it aside as he sat down crying a bit shaking a bit* I-I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry.... MW Hanzo:*just curls up into a ball but freezes when he feels someone sit down next to him* MW Cole:*doesn't say anything but holds his hand a bit* You alright? MW Hanzo:....I don't need your pity.... MW Cole: I know... MW Hanzo:...... MW Hanzo:*closes his eyes sighing softly* Stay please... MW Cole:*sighs*....For a bit then we get back to work okay... MW Hanzo:*doesn't say anything but squeezes his hand a bit* MW Hanzo: Thank you... MW Cole:...Of course....

[phoenixtakaramono]

Hi, I just wanna say I LOVE Truce ❤️❤️, your writing(l'm amazed sometimes because it's just too good) and can't wait for the new chapter. Can I ask when are you gonna update?

This Ask is regarding the status of this PWP on AO3:

Hi! I’m just gonna combine these two anon Asks because they’re asking the same thing, haha. Firstly, thank you. Muah muah. 😘 💞

Secondly, hopefully this year. I dunno exactly when yet but hopefully it’s possible with my work schedule and any irl setbacks. I can’t give an exact date as of right now because I don’t like making false promises. Nothing takes the wind outta my sails than setting a deadline—and failing to meet it; it will give me writer’s block, haha. You can read my reply to an anon Ask here; it’s asking about two different fics of mine but my answer remains the same: I don’t like sacrificing quality for quantity. I prefer taking a longer time than rushing out a subpar update. A chapter will be ready when it’s ready. In the interim, I will post sneak peeks, update the status bar, and only give an ETA the week before it’s ready to be posted. I recommend my readers to turn on their Subscribe notifs so they’ll be notified when it’s ready.

Technically I can split ch3 into two chapters like I did for ch2, but that means the upcoming update is just 90% set-up. Billy and Homelander don’t physically interact yet in the set-up. Neither do they share a dialogue exchange. And I think that’s boring, no? I’d rather y’all read ch3 for its full intended effect, with the set-up and foreshadowing leading to the payoff. It is, after all, the chapter with their 🔞 First Time. A lot of exciting things happen this chapter after the set-up. Homelander flying Billy outerspace “as a date,” their first Team Up, kitchen sex (their first), Billy’s debut as a superhero + vice captain role in The Seven with Billy’s “bloody” birthday present to Homelander. It’s my favorite chapter outta the bunch because of the exhilarating rollercoaster ride it is—and I don’t want to take that away from y’all.

Also in the interim, you can read my butchlander threadfics here on tumblr and definitely on my Twitter thread here. They’re my humble peace offerings whilst I am working on Truce. :)

———

So this part isn’t particularly directed at you, Anon(s), but a pet peeve of mine are readers demanding updates, readers who assume I’ve discontinued/ abandoned a story, and readers who keep pushing for an update even though I’ve already nicely informed them of when to realistically expect an update from me and why it’s taking a long time. There’s one reader on one of my stories whom, for a good part of this year, has sent maybe over 99+ comments on AO3 trying to psychologically pressure/ guilt trip me into updating a certain fic. Like, their words are very kind and I’m happy they adore my fic to bits, and I’m sure they have good intentions, but it doesn’t make me, the writer, comfortable seeing someone say things like “I’m obsessed with this fic; I check for updates everyday; I think and breathe this fic; if you don’t update, I’m going to die; when are you going to update? Please, this story is too good to be abandoned/discontinued, I don’t want that to happen to [insert fic] like all the other abandoned stories in this fandom. All I think about is this fic; I read this story every day. I can’t breathe if I don’t see any update.” Or the alternative: “[insert compliment] but I just know this story is abandoned/discontinued, and that’s such a shame.”

Y’all, this ain’t the motivation or encouragement you think it is. It’s incredibly demotivating and making me want to take even longer outta spite :/, especially if I’d taken time to reply to the reader’s Comment reiterating essentially what I said above in bullet point #2. Asking the writer again and again for an update a hundred times in a row is not going to change their mind. It’s a lil disconcerting.

[thejoysofdessert]

If I have to make another healthcare or insurance phone call or hear hold music this month I will scream.

[penname-artist]

7.23.23

[julianrchandlerx]

setting: jasmine and nico’s home, a day or so after the chaos time has been blending for him

featuring: julian chandler & jasmine st. claire castillo??? @cantfightmoonlight

The sky was a pale gray, covered in a thick blanket of rain clouds, and Julian thought there was something poetic to its dreariness when compared to the broken, mangled state of his heart. Distant rumbling of storms, and the gentle fall of rain only added atmosphere to the terrible fog he’d been in since the night at the Emerald. Between triggering his own PTSD at the edge of the dance floor, the horrific events that raged on in the hours after midnight, to Briar-Rose’s hurtful confession, absolutely no moment gave him rest. His every waking moment felt haunted by everything that happened — phantom spasms that caught him gasping for air whenever he heard any form of dancing music, and the ever present searing heartache at the thought of his beloved being kissed by another. It was the worst part of it all, after everything that happened, to finally have a moment to the two of them after barely seeing each other all night, only to find out what had happened between her and her ex-fiancée while he’d been hyperventilating elsewhere. He tried to bury the thought as he noticed the house up ahead. The last thing Julian wanted was for Jasmine to hear it in his mind long before there was a proper moment to talk and explain. So he quieted his thoughts as he walked up towards the front door, no umbrella or rain jacket to shield him from the elements. Just a corded gray sweatshirt, shoulders dappled by the rainfall, and soaked through hair, looking just as solemn as the weather.

Knocking at the door, he waited quietly until she would arrive to greet him. This was the first time he’d been to the home she shared with Nico, and he would need a proper invitation to enter. Julian had wanted to visit sooner, but he’d stalled. This time of year brought back strange memories, buried trauma, and sensations that he didn’t want her all seeing eye always privy too. There was enough turmoil in this town, hers and her loved ones’ lives constantly at stake. The last thing Julian wanted was to burden her thoughts with his own dreadful wallowing. Not when he died for her curse, that wasn’t quite fair of him to be upset about. He made sure to not let these, or any thoughts, show as he waited at the door. Instead, he thought back on grocery lists and random song lyrics, math equations which stumped him into a stupor. Anything but the trauma, his problems, the aching sadness that at this very hour he would usually still be wrapped up in that pretty redhead of his, instead of wordlessly leaving her favorite pastry and go to coffee order on her stoop and dashing just before she opened the door to see him there as he’d done that very morning. He may have been heartbroken, that didn’t mean he’d stop taking care of her as he always did.

Unfortunately that was in his mind when the door finally opened. “Hey,” he said quietly, waving a hand awkwardly. “…I heard you got hurt, I wanted to stop by and see if you were okay. I-I’m sorry I didn’t check in on you that night, I just… So much was happening. And so many people were around you… I didn’t want to overcrowd you.” He soured when he remembered that the unwelcome guest into his relationship had been there with Jasmine too, but he squared his shoulders and tried to give his brightest smile. But it didn’t work, his usual ability to be as pleasantly optimistic as ever was gone. Instead his smile faltered, and he didn’t try to reclaim it. “Can I maybe come in? Chat or something, I could… I could use a little slice of home, ya know?”

[kcuf-ad]

I am brimming with stress right now and no, it won't stop :).

[magentagalaxies]

listening to "brand new key" by melanie while processing my trauma so the breakdown turns into a fun kids in the hall reference. we all cope in our own ways

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

If you're still doing that headcanon ask meme...Max Headroom?

Heck yeah!

Headcanon A:  realistic

((It's somewhat supported by the show, but I don't always go by the show)) Max pretty much thinks of everything and everyone as a television program, advertisement, series, merch, etc. This has somewhat caused him to start rivalries with random people, as he's afraid of anything overtopping him. However, because of this, he's not actually taking it personally and treats said rival as a longtime friend nonetheless.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Max bases his morality around the cola wars. I have no idea if I should elaborate; but say if you're allies, friends, or incredibly close to him and admit you like Pepsi, he'll literally stop talking to you and sabotage your every move.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Because his name derives from the last thing he saw before the accident, he has nightmares/moments that repeat or reference the accident. ex: sometimes his shows will display the perspective of a man barreling into a sign while screaming bloody murder, the top of his head begins to bleed static, and he might change up conversations when motorcycles, Edison Carter, blipverts, or bounty hunters get mentioned. But really, he isn't that aware of it; and it comes off more subconsciously.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Okay. Here's the thing; you literally cannot have the 'Jekyll and Hyde' parallel, and have them as separate people, working on the same side of good, in the same room. In my head, Edison's whereabouts are somewhat ambiguous, as nobody is quite sure if he survived the accident or where he is now. Also, pre-show canon displays time-from-time that Edison and Max aren't aware of each other, so I also go by that (source; literally the '20 Minutes into the future' short film, and a interview commercial/bumper for Max's talk show) (I think that's what it was?)

Okay, hope that didn't disappoint. Thanks for asking, anon!

[dulcewrites]

can you tease anything coming up with cassandra and aemond? also, are you definitely going for just one more baby boy? I miss them <3

I’m currently trying to write the driftmark thing. I’m focused on gett part 8 of fcc out rn, but once that out I hope to focus on this. I’m leaning towards the twins options not even gonna lie.

[zaynes-left-chesticle]

It's super exciting to see this...

[tongue-like-a-razor]

I loved the humor in this!! And I love how Phoenix and hangman just commandeered the situation 🤣🤣 I can totally see that happening haha Poor Rooster.

Like I Can (Part 1)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fuff, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 3.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(We’re kicking of Valentine’s Day a bit early❣️ Enjoy!)

“I’m all for growing the sport, but Brady buying an MLP team is ruining the integrity of the league. He may be the GOAT of football, but he has nothing on Ben John’s world-class pickleball game,” your date Max passionately states from his spot across from you at the Italian place he had recommended.

Or was his name Mac?

He’d already told you all about the CRBN paddle drama. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had already prepared a PowerPoint presentation on the topic complete with transitions and color-coded charts. He seems the type.

And he had yet to ask you a single question about yourself all evening.

You can tell he is gearing up for the next part of his rant, when your phone lights up on the table, the ringer on higher than you realized.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I thought I had this on silent. It’s my mom, I should probably take this,” you apologize to him, your phone already halfway raised to your ear.

“Hey, kid, how’s it going?”

“Hi Mom, I’m with someone right now. Is everything ok?” You let a little worry tinge the tone of your voice.

“Seriously?” Rooster drolly rasps on the other end of the line, “Are we actually doing this?”

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