#TW Medical-based trauma

[truths33k3r4]

(CONTENT WARNING!- Nightmares, medical-based trauma and situations! Panic!)

CHAPTER 10- Never Again

“Raphael.” Leo tightly warned, raising his hands onto the sides of his brother’s face. His normally calm tone plummeted into the negative degrees, replacing the warmth of brotherly concern with the chill of interrogation. Unfortunately, this was the only strategy that worked on his stubborn little brother. Kind, gentle words only added another brick to his growing wall of pride, coming off to the fiery sibling as demeaning and condescending instead of loving. The eldest deeply regretted how long it took him to realize this fact about his brother.

 It would have saved them both a lot of heartache growing up.

 Instead of getting lost in the past, he shoved his way back into the present, where his brother was shaking and crying, and not telling him why.

“RAPH. I am warning you- If you don’t tell me what’s going on in the next three seconds, I’m going to drag your shell to dad.”

Leo allowed a faint snarl to escape through his teeth, hoping that his go-to threat would work like always. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he would be physically able to haul Raphael to his father’s room- Despite how much the eldest had trained, Raph had always been faster and stronger. 

That didn’t aggravate the eldest in the slightest.

Not… at… all.

“I said I’m f-” Raph began, attempting to twist his head out of Leo’s grip, but the eldest’ hands remained planted on his brother’s face, snapping Raph’s gaze back to his icy irises. 

“You. Are. Crying.” Leo pressed in harsh whispers as he tightened his grip to emphasize how seriously worried he was becoming with each second. “You don’t do that. That’s not a thing that you do, and worse- you’re doing it in front of me… So…”

The eldest’s vice-like grip softened to a small caress, wiping away another escaping tear off his brother’s face. Leo’s harsh glare melted with the true warmth he felt for his hurting brother. 

“... I know something is seriously wrong.” He whispered with a gentleness his brothers all knew well. His breath shuddered as his hands slid from Raph’s face down to his shoulders. “You… were held hostage at some- s-some mad scientist’s lab for over two weeks, Raph… I have no… idea… what they did to you…”

Leo watched as Raph’s eyes kept overflowing with silent tears, reminding the eldest of a wordless history filled with pain and devastating fear that had been plaguing his brother for weeks. 

Leo couldn’t hold back the memories of finding his missing brothers at that horrible lab, rushing through the doors of the facility, maneuvering his way through the halls to the sound of screaming.

His brother. Screaming.

. . .

Don’s freckled face was nearly unrecognizable without his signature glasses and violet-hued mask. Those monsters had taken away all their gear- leaving them more or less naked and unidentifiable; Inhumane. Nothing but another creature for those psychos to study and pull apart… Not only had those heartless heathens stripped him down, but they had also strapped him down to the confines of a reclining chair via leather straps that painfully dug into his skin. 

Don’s expression began as listless while he focused on breathing through the pain of whatever vile concoction was being injected into his veins through an IV. But then a sudden realization sparkled behind his heterochromatic irises, and Leo nearly shattered into a million pieces when his genius brother locked eyes with him for the first time in weeks.

“R-Raph?...” The freckled brother shakily called, as he leaned forward, squinting his eyes.

The frail sound of his sibling’s plea for familiarity and safety sent an arrow of guilt piercing into Leo’s heart. Before another second could be wasted, Leo ran to Don’s side. With a quick shuffle into his belt, the eldest pulled out a pair of glasses, sliding it oh so gently onto his freckled brother’s face. Once Don’s breathing steadied, he looked up and lost his breath all over again. 

“Leo…” He gasped in between shuddered breaths. “LEO!!!” 

With the cry of the eldest’s name, Leo began to hurriedly disconnect all the equipment from his brother, who was now softly sobbing and shaking his head as if this was all just a dream. 

“T-This… This can’t be real…” 

Leo couldn’t even reply as he carefully began pulling out the IV from Don’s bruised arm with all the gentleness he could afford. Tears of relief and shame and love and sadness all poured from his face as he set right to work on un-doing all that had been done to his beloved sibling. He rapidly wiped away his tears as he reached behind to pull out one of his twin katanas. With a number of practiced swipes with his blade, all the straps that once held down Don fell to the floor. 

Now freed from his confines, Don arched himself forward, trying to push himself off the heightened medical chair. Slowly, and with Leo’s help, he finally had both feet on the floor, but not for long. As if a large gust of wind shot through the room, Don’s body began plummeting to the floor in an exhausted heap. As soon as Leo sensed his brother’s weakness, he swiftly sheathed his katana and reached out. Within a matter of seconds, he was on his knees with Don pressed tightly into his arms.

“I’m here! I’m here- I’m so sorry. I love you- I love you I love you-” He cried out, finally being able to say what had been on his heart for the last eighteen days.

“Leo…how…” Don quietly sobbed into Leo’s neck, smothered yet crystal clear, “How did y-you? H-how are you here? Are y-you okay? Did you… Did you find R-Raph?”

Leo winced in sympathy as he listened to the gravelly scratches carving their way painfully into Don’s throat with each word he spoke.

“Shhhh. Shhhhh.” Leo whispered into his brother’s ear, “You need to… to rest.” A whimper weaseled its way out of Leo’s throat, leaving his whole body shaking with emotion and adrenaline. He was supposed to be the foundation of his team; the stronghold that would protect his brothers no matter the costs- the firm walls that would keep his family safe from the cruel, outside world.

And yet here he was, dissolving into shifting sand in his beloved brother’s skinny arms. His facets of honor and maturity crumbled into broken shards of childishness as he let out a painful sob, finally unleashing a grain of the agony he had carried on his shoulders during the weeks of his brothers’ capture. The doubts and fears that plagued his sleepless mind were finally put to reassured rest.

Don was okay.

The stale air of the lab made Leo’s skin tingle with discomfort as he latched onto his little brother with all his might, vowing right then and there that he would never allow this to happen again. With a sense of determination he had not felt in some time, he pressed further into his brother, spreading warmth where only shadow and pain had touched. Each bruise and bandage littering his little brother’s skin was a testament of the eldest’ failure to protect those he loved.

Never again.

The moment was abruptly sliced in half as a blaring alarm began to scream.

~

Leo blinked. And there he was again, kneeling at Raph’s side, with his hands on his shaking brother’s shoulders. 

“It… It was a nightmare.” Raph simply shrugged, though his voice wobbled and shuddered like a glass cup during an earthquake. 

After wiping away the last hints of tears, Leo sighed with the tiniest glint of a smile.

Still playing the tough guy… But at least he’s speaking again.

Leo released one of his hands off of Raph’s shoulder and planted it onto his knee, steadying his own swaying form from the sleep he was currently missing.

“Do you want to talk abou-”

“-No.”

Before his sore legs gave out underneath him, Leo flopped down onto his butt with a somewhat content sigh, using his arms to hold him upright.

“Should've guessed…” He whispered as he slouched back. The smile on his face was still present, alighting the cold, dark room with a small ember of warmth. “Well… I’m… here when you’re ready to talk.” 

Raph turned his face to look down at his brother, silently contemplating Leo’s offer.

 The eldest would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt how cautious Raph was being around him. He’d noticed it for years, slowly watching as hour-long conversations after practice would turn into quick, hollow “hey”s before his fiery sibling briskly left the room. Late nights of reading comics and trying to catch their favorite movies on tv slowly lessened as Raph wanted to be by himself more. 

In all honesty, despite his own pride, Leo couldn’t blame him. He and the second oldest would get into horrible fights growing up. Every small conversation turned into a horrible argument. Any compliment had poison at its tip, sharp and designed to sting. And no sooner had those hurtful words escaped their lips, their fists began flying.

Leo once noticed, mid argument with Raph, that Don had carefully guided himself and Mikey out of the room. One more glance revealed tears falling out of his baby brother’s eyes, and a hardened, disappointed glare across Don’s face.

His and Raph’s actions had begun to affect his brothers. That’s when it became clear that something needed to be done.

So he and Raph just- stopped talking. Leo did his very best to back off unless necessary, and slowly over time their home became quiet again. 

But silence is a two-edged sword. What can be felt as peaceful can also be sensed as cold and apathetic; The natural quiet of a forest’s winter trails compared to the restrained hostility boiling under a volcano’s depths.

A cover-up. A simple bandaid rather than a full surgery. 

Not enough.

Through the years, Splinter had begun training Raphael in better handling his temper. Every day before practice, Leo would see Raph sluggishly dragging his feet into Sensei’s room, and through the door, he, Don and Mikey would listen in on some of the fiery brother’s lessons from their father. Splinter would guide Raph through his Bible, reviewing verses of pride, arrogance, and the need for love to be in the world. He then went over how important it was as christians to show Christ’s love to others. And especially, the ultimate need for that love to be in their home.

During that time, Raph wasn’t the only one Sensei honed in on. Seeing how Leo was half of the problem in the arguments bringing unwanted chaos into their home, he too had to be taught many lessons. The Bible verses his dad focused on weren’t very different from the ones he overheard Raph learning. Huh. Interesting. One specific lesson planted deep roots into Leo’s heart, leaving an impact that would be with him for years to come:

“Your love for your brother needs to outweigh your longing to win.”

And then… one day…

Raph appeared climbing down from the forbidden manhole cover with a shattered wrist and a bleeding crack chipped into his plastron. No matter how he was asked, persuaded, comforted, or threatened, Raph never told anyone how it had happened.

After that day everything began to change. 

And then about a year ago, he and Raph started talking again. 

Even now, as Leo looked into the eyes of Raphael as he finally calmed down from his panic attack, he could see the tenderness and healing within his troubled brother’s soul. Compared to the others in his family, Raph held the record for how many physical scars he had. For a long time, the brothers held him with the highest honor, as if he were a victorious war hero returning from battle… But Leo knew better now. The deep slash across his little brother’s eye was dealt by his blade. An accident, yes, but a permanent reminder of his past recklessness as a child; A lasting testament of who he could never be again.

As for Raph’s second scar- the small lightning bolt cracked into his upper plastron…

… Leo still doesn’t know where its origins stemmed from. And the fact that Raph had held that secret within, warns the eldest of unseen battles that were being fought behind thick, impenetrable walls. Battles he may have helped to fight, had he thrown down his own barriers.

Those times were long gone, and he would not squander the second chance God gave him.

Before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth again.

“Okay… New subject-” He said as he sat up and leaned his elbows onto his crossed legs. “...Maybe this will help get your mind off of your nightmare. If you could think of anything to geek out about to me- right now- what would it be?” He asked with an inviting grin to his more-than-cautious brother.

Raph’s confusion only showed through his expression for a few seconds before his eyes were looking to the side, pondering over Leo’s question. “Uh…” He thought, tapping at the blankets draped over his legs. “... I guess… How kids’ tv shows go too easy on ‘em.” 

Huh. Oooooookay.

“Alright! Tell me about it.” Leo gestured vaguely with his hands at Raph, waving them in swooping motions to propel his anxious brother to keep going.

Raph’s nervous expression returned, but he persisted through his anxiety, sitting up as well, and playing with the blanket fibers between his fingers.

“Well… you know… Nothin’ real happens in them. Like- Okay listen to this-” Raph said, as a miniscule spark ignited behind his irises and spread to his expression and posture, silently revealing that Leo’s plan was working. 

Leo nodded with a small, but growing smile.

“Tell me, oh Team Medic, what would happen to a person if they fell off a three story building?”

Leo sat back with a sigh as his brain began pulling out pristine files from its shelves.

“Um… my personal guess would be they’d have at least a broken ankle, if not a seriously sprained knee…” He listed, as he began counting with his fingers for each injury that came to mind. “...Possibly a concussion depending on how they handled their landing- and most likely a good amount of scrapes and bruises to the knees and arms.”

Raph nodded emphatically to Leo’s medical diagnosis, gesturing stiffly with both arms as if to say THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYIN.

“RIGHT. So- ya know- there’s a thing called uh, what was it again- CONSEQUENCES.” Raph shout-whispered, still keeping his voice small, but making sure his words made up for the lack of volume. “So, you tell me, how… does FRIENDSHIP save you from breakin’ your neck after falling off a flippin’ building??!!” He quietly roared. Somehow.

Leo had to stifle a chuckle as he watched his brother become as animated as the cartoon shows he was complaining about. It was hilarious to see such fire in his brother’s eyes that didn’t spark from anything occurring in the real world. 

“That… doesn’t make any sense, dude.” Leo attempted to speak, but was unceremoniously interrupted by a snort escaping his nose. “Gah-geez!” He hurriedly whispered to himself as he smacked a hand over his mouth to somehow smother his growing laughter at the situation. 

Raph’s passionate expression softened at the sight of Leo fighting for his life to keep the serenity of their bedroom so his little brothers can sleep. Then his kind smile crackled and sparked into a mischievous grin.

After what felt like an eternity, Leo had finally gotten his laughter under control, plastering a stoic expression over the small gusts of laughter still tucked away in his throat. But all that hard work was blown to oblivion as Raph began to cross his eyes and flare his nostrils. Before the eldest could stop himself, another snort shattered the peaceful silence of the room.

My one weakness- THAT LIL BRAT-

In utter defiance and revenge, Leo thrust himself forward onto his knees and slapped Raph’s arm in playful, empty warning. With a hushed hiss he chittered,

“YOU STOP THAT THIS *SNNRT* THIS INSTANT, YOUNG MAN-”

“Ya mean turtle?~” Raph winced as he rubbed at his slightly stinging arm.

Then the brothers went silent as they took a single second to think. At that moment, they pointed to the other and whispered simultaneously, “ Mutant.” And then they were both fighting for their lives to not wake their brothers.

Despite their best efforts of shushing each other, smacking their hands over the other’s face, and trying to regain stoic countenances which always backfired, they were quickly interrupted by a meek, worried voice.

“Don?” 

Raph and Leo’s laughter was snuffed out instantaneously as their immediate instinct to protect their brothers pushed past any humor with full force. 

“Mikey? What’s wrong?” Leo asked with a slightly raised voice since Mikey was in the bunk above Raph’s bed. “Why are you calling to-” 

Leo’s sentence fell away into the shadows surrounding the bedroom as he gazed at Don in his bunk bed, cradling his head between his clenched hands. Shaking.

“Don?...” Leo asked, again raising his voice since Don’s bed was further away. At his call, the freckled brother turned his head slightly, the glistening of tears shining as they fell in threads down his face. 

“DON!” Leo outwardly cried, no longer attempting to remain quiet as the newly revealed emergency played out right in front of him. He pushed off his knees and used Raph’s mattress to propel himself off the floor into a quick sprint across the room. By only running on instinct to protect his brother, he didn’t have to think as he effortlessly leapt over the spare mattress and climbed up the ladder to Don’s bunk, landing in what Mikey would call a “spiderman pose”. 

“Is he okay?” Raph called from the ground, as Mikey briskly flipped off the side of his bunk, landing perfectly, and rushing to Raph’s side.

Leo suppressed a deep groan.

Mental sticky note- REMIND MIKEY to not risk damaging his ALREADY HEALING ANKLE.

With a disgruntled sigh, Leo turned his attention back to Don. In the moment he had, he ploughed through the medical checklists he could think of, assessing what was wrong with his genius little brother. However, it was clear without any medical expertise that Don was having a panic attack.

Him too?... What is going on?

Suppressing his growing questions, the eldest reached out his hand and placed it on Don’s trembling knee. Over the years, Leo found that physical contact worked as a solid anchor for his frightened brother; a grounding force that would pull his mind away from the fantasies that plagued his logic. Don had explained to him that when someone was having a panic attack, they were losing themselves to the lies in their mind. In order to remedy this and pull them out of it, they needed a firm foundation of truth to stand on. 

“I’m alive.”

“I’m not dying.”

“I can feel my heartbeat.”

“I can hear my breathing.”

“God is with me.”

“I’m safe.”

Leo stretched forward to place more pressure on Don’s knee.

“You’re alive, Don. You’re not dying.” He spoke firmly.

“Mmmhmm…” Don grunted as he shakily lowered his hands from the sides of his head, and slid them down to the nape of his neck, pulling down with constant pressure.

“You’re home. You’re not alone. I’m right here.” Leo pressed further both verbally and physically.

“Y-Yeah…” Don breathlessly agreed, as he tried to take a deep, calming breath.

“Whatever you saw wasn’t real. It was just a dream, okay?” 

Don’s expression twisted at those words, and he stuttered, “That’s.. n-not true, L-Leo… It… wasn’t as m-much a nightmare, as it was a m-memory…”

Leo’s own expression fell at Don’s fragmented words sputtering and glitching like a tv set trying to hone in on the right signal. He hated seeing his intellectual brother so shaken like this. Don had never been one that needed to fight his own body just so he could speak. Normally his rants and logistics would smoothly escape his lips, coming out clear and precise in neat rows filled with elongated vocabulary. 

Only one thing would have stolen that from him; something so scary and traumatic that it would resonate and affect him now.

“You dreamed about the lab, didn’t you?” Leo whispered at a volume barely audible as he slid closer to Don’s now relaxing form. He lifted his hand from Don’s knee onto his shoulder, but still kept a grounding pressure.

Don, once again at a loss for words, simply nodded his head defeatedly.

Not needing any more confirmation of Don’s condition, Leo pulled himself closer and held out his arms. Don had to know the option was there if he needed it.

At first, the freckled brother simply stared at Leo’s outstretched arms, as his pupils zipped back and forth in consideration. Then after he properly reviewed his options, he gently shook his head. “I think I’m okay now.” He sighed, gripping onto the soft, fur blanket over his legs. “I’m… okay.”

Leo nodded in understanding before he was forcibly pushed to the wall of the nook as Mikey and Raph joined him on Don’s bed.

“Don, ya good?” Raph asked in genuine concern for his twin, searching his brother’s expression and body for any wounds. 

Don nodded with an exhausted but real smile.

“Are you sure?? You were crying, bro. Last I checked, computers can’t cry.” Mikey playfully nudged Don’s arm, but the smile on the youngest’s face read of no ill will. “You want to talk about it?”

Don’s smile fell a little as he made eye contact with Raph, and both twins sighed in mental understanding. 

“I think he’s alright now.” Raph spoke up quietly, as he started pushing Mikey onto the ladder. “Let’s give him some space, Mikey.” 

Despite the youngest fighting and squawking in obvious displeasure, Raph remained persistent and continued down, pulling his little brother with him. Leo couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“...T-Thanks, Leo.” Don whispered, as he stretched out and placed his hand onto Leo’s arm. “I really… appreciated this.”

Leo’s smile brightened as he tapped his hand onto Don’s. The cool texture of his brother’s smooth skin brought its own wave of comfort to him, reminding the eldest of a truth he had unknowingly taken for granted for years:

They’re home.

Before any more tears decided to fall, Leo wished his brother good night and slid down the ladder, making his way back to his mattress, saying one final, silent prayer.

Thank You, Lord, that my brothers… are home. Thank You that they’re here and safe. Please continue to guide them as they recover from their time in the labs. Please guide me with what to say to them. And…

 Thank You for giving me a second chance.

Aaaand that's it for this chapter!

Man alive, it feels so good to be back. This chapter took a while to figure out because of the scenes with Leo and Raph- There were many options that I had to choose through over how Raph would react to Leo trying to calm him down from his panic attack- but this version won out in the end. :) To quote a very important Book, "Laughter doeth good like medicine". So I knew how I wanted this scene to go. :) As has been a running tradition in this book, there is a lot of hidden storytelling in this chapter~ Especially regarding Leo and Raph.

Feel free to reblog and share!

BIG THANKS TO @poetique823 FOR YOUR HELP!!! <3

@indieyuugure @writer-in-wonder @allyheart707 @oddartistl3 @risebabyx2 @joyjoygorl @carrots-bear @imagionationstation @howtotrainyourdragonprince @jasminegazer @brightonstudios @ninjaturtlefan-dee @rottmntlover14

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, comment down below!

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[gxlden-angels]

I've got a personal situation going on that I want to eventually talk about here, but in summary transphobes and fundamentalist christians hate women and can suck my spiritual dick about it

[miramelo]

A little Birdie told me...

It Made me so happy that a LOT of you guys liked my latest au!!

To answer a few questions in no particular order, Danny doesn't suddenly make Joker a better person. I based the Joker of this au in a few issues I saw where he shows a little bit of care or twisted love.

There's one issue where instead of killing a Man he just cuts a few fingers off since he met the guy's kid, there's one where he took in a monkey as his son and It looks like he mourns him when he dies.

I see Joker being a narcissist type of parent,he cares for Danny AND he DOES love him! But is not pure, Joker sees Danny as perfect, the kid he dreamed of.

They might snap at eachother but they end up playing nice at the bat of an eye

In this au Ace AND Joker JR are did happen, I figured he had a back up double that doesn't retain ALL of the old Joker memories so he doesn't remember Batman nor Robin identities

Danny has a lot of BIG mood swings, they can be blamed not only to trauma but also to "medication" he takes (Joker venon)

He has issues when It comes to the bats: thinks of Batman as his other dad because JR was created 'cuz Joker wanted to have a laugh at his dear ol' Batsy AND Danny was changed because he reminded Joker of JR. calls Batman Da' and Joker Pa'

He projects A LOT on the red haired librarian, she's so nice!! And makes him think of Jazz(sometimes he thinks she's Jazz when he can't quite understand what's real and what isn't)

A few early sketches under the cut

Tw for teeth and scars

[nefertitiacai]

Astro observations : "I GOT IT FROM MY DADDY" (AND MOMMY) edition

yk that one "DADDY" song by PSY sksksk

🪷 Venus in 4th house is an indicater of person being very beautiful and blessed with good looking genetics. They can also be conventionally attractive since 4th house also rules homeland, so they may be deemed as attractive where they live. A genetically blessed placement.

🪷 Jupiter in the 4th house is also an indicator for having a feature that may be "large" that runs through the family. Like being voluptuous or tall. Again a "genetically blessed" placement.

🪷 Sun/Jupiter in the 10th house individuals can learn a lot of stuff related to careers and build connections through their father.

🪷 Moon/Saturn in the second house may have some distinct facial features which resemble their parents. As both are considered planets that rule over parents and the second house rules over face.

🔴 (TW: Generational Trauma) ⏬

(also the observation and remedies which I've mentioned are purely based on generalization, if you may be dealing with it on a serious note then consulting a medical/health care professional is what is required💚)

🪷 Those who have Mars/Chiron/Saturn/Pluto in the 4th house/cancer/conj Moon may beat themselves up for a certain "flaw" which they consider themselves to have. This habit or problem may make them feel powerless. As if they are unable to change it. However, in actuality that "problem" didn't start with them but may be a generational thing/a characteristic which got inherited from a family member. [Our genetics play a major role in general with the way we are today (yes even personality-wise). But one can change it by will and if they indulge in self-improvement techniques like meditation, visualization, journaling with clear intentions, and other mindful activities]

📚 (PS. as a book enthusiast to others who are into reading self help books I'd recommend those who are dealing with such problems to read the book "It Didn't Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle" by Mark Wolynn 😃)

(TW: mommy issues) moon conj Pluto placement and being notorious with mommy issues.

However, in my case, I have this placement and I don't feel it to be like that. My relationship with my mom is a very typical one. We have different views on certain stuff but we aren't toxic. Nonetheless, what I consider really to be toxic is my mom's side of the family and her childhood had also not been the best. So this placement actually may be something regarding the fact that your mum had to go through a lot and if you know that fact then it is easy to forgive her and give her a tight hug whenever you can.

This placement can also be an indicator of the child's mom going through a stressful phase during the time of the birth.

🟢 TW over, ok enough with sad stuff now 🤧

🪷 It is an observation but I've noticed Sagittarius, Pisces, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Leo placements folks may resemble their father's looks and personality-wise distinctively. Like there's that one feature that they may also be known for like, "you have a smile like your dad". It may be due to them being ruled by Jupiter, Saturn, and sun respectively, the celestial bodies which deal with "fatherly figures" in astrology.

🪷 Leo, Cancer, Aries, Gemini and Capricorn placements 🤝 acting all wholesome and cute when their mom is around.

🪷 If you and your sibling both have prominent mercury placements then you might hear someone saying this at some point "oh YoU BOth LoOk likE eACh otHer a Lot" and y'all will be like "b*tch no, from which angle, I am obviously more gorgeous 😤" 

🪷You know being a Sagittarius 🐎(also honorable mention Aquarius and Pisces) this proverb literally go with us for our parents 'You can lead a horse 🐎 to water but you can't make him drink '

📚[ PS.  if the horse is willing then only it'll drink, you can't drink water on its behalf. (That's the universal truth with life btw, you are responsible for your own tasks. Others can only guide you but in the end, it's you who will have to act, innit)]

Even though it is for our own "good" and "wellbeing" that our parents do and force these placements to be doing things in a certain way these placements will only "keep drink up to it" if it gives them a feeling of expansion and freedom. (That's why Sagittarius and Pisces placements are deemed to be "irresponsible" but that's not the case. And Aquarius placements have a reputation to be "rebellious" but that's unlikely. These placements most of the time may think ahead of their time and may have a bigger picture on things that's why they may consider certain tasks to be irrelevant (however it can also backfire and this certainly doesn't mean to be an excuse to run away))

🪷 Virgo and Libra placements tend to have good mannerisms which may be taught by their parents. They are big on punctuality. Also, they are well-behaved and sweet people. Often being talked about as "their parents raised them well". 

Virgo is associated with the 6th house which is also the house that rules over service so they tend to be helpful. Libra on the other hand is associated with the 7th house which is the house of partnerships, that's why they like to treat people with kindness and have a pleasing appeal. Like a comrade. (Although this also has a shadow aspect to it, this can make these placements to be perfectionists in unhealthy amounts and they may start to have people-pleasing tendencies. They may also grow pessimistic since many people may view their kindness to be their weakness, which is not true at all you guys, y'all are great and don't fall into what those low vibrational people have to say.)

It's 11:11 while I type this 💫 also, umaru chan is so adorable

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

This request is kinda angsty, but I was wondering if you'd be willing to write something about Baldwin assisting his wife when she faints from heatstroke on a particularly hot day? She is prone to headaches as it is, and the heat does her no good. Basically something sweet about Baldwing reacting to his wife fainting and helping her recover, if it's not too much trouble... 👉🏻👈🏻

♧ I've Got You - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon, thank you for your request. I like this one a lot and enjoyed making it, I hope it's what you had in mind! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Fainting, Mentions of Dysautonomia, Leprosy

Summer in Jerusalem was always brutal.

Many were used to the heat, leaving them mostly unaffected. However for y/n, the heat was much more than she could take.

Unbeknownst to individuals of the time, with their lack of medical knowledge, the young queen suffered from dysautonomia, induced from trauma during her childhood.

This meant that severe heat caused her to experience extreme headaches, difficulty breathing, and on occasion, fainting. She was already prone to terrible headaches as it was, so the heat did nothing to help that either.

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

On a particularly hot day, Baldwin was scheduled to address his subjects and y/n was supposed to be joining him, as usal.

The king knew of his wife’s sensitivity to the heat and insisted that she remain inside the castle, but y/n promised that she would be perfectly fine and that as long as she stood in the shade, nothing would happen.

This did nothing to ease his nerves. But still he agreed, telling her that if she felt even the slightest bit ill that she was more than permitted to enter the castle to lay down.

------------ 

When the hour of the address came, the people gathered in the castle entrance yard to hear their king speak of updates regarding the safety of their land.

Baldwin stood on the royal balcony of the castle and y/n stood behind him, with the rest of the royal officials.

About five minutes had passed after he started speaking when the queen began to feel slightly ill. She thought nothing of it and concentrated on keeping herself standing. The heat worsened her small headache to a migraine, her vision was blurry, and she was having trouble breathing.

Still, she told herself that there was only a few minutes left and that she could wait it out.

It was Tiberias who noticed her sickly appearance first. He was stood with the rest of the royal officials and was also aware of the queen's medical condition.

It was for this reason that he had been keeping a close eye on y/n and was also the first to notice her legs give out from underneath her.

He rushed forward to catch her, just before she hit the ground.

Tibarias called for a guard to take her inside. Amongst the small commotion, Baldwin did not see what happened but was quick to turn when he heard a guard being called.

Seeing his wife unconscious in the arms of a guard sickened him to his core. He gestured for somebody to conclude the address as he followed inside, not caring what others in the crowd thought.

“What happened? Is she alright?” he asked Tibarias frantically, his heart rate quickening.

“She is alright my lord” Tibarias replied quickly, “it's the heat, she just blacked out as you were speaking. She will be just alright” his words only calmed Baldwin’s panic slightly.

He felt ill, the bandages covering his body suddenly feeling too tight. The mask restricted his breathing even more than it usually did.

The guard placed y/n on the couples shared bed in the royal chambers.

Baldwin ordered him to fetch the physicians quickly, moving to the queen's bedside to look at her properly.

She was very pale, but her eyes were shut peacefully. Her breathing was soft and inaudible, if it wasn't for the slight rise and fall of her chest, one would assume her dead from the sickly pale color of her skin.

Noticing the king's look of utter defeat, Tibarias offered a few words of comfort, but they did nothing to ease his worried heart. “It's my fault” Baldwin uttered softly, “I should have told her to stay inside. I knew that this would happen. Oh lord, why did I allow her to stay outside for so long in this awful heat”. He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the large bed and putting his head in his bandaged hands.

“It is not your fault my lord. You weren't to know that something like this would happen. She insisted she would be alright, she would not have assumed something like this to happen either” Tibarias replied, placing a hand on the king's shoulder just as the physicians entered the room. 

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

It was late at night by the time y/n’s eyes snapped open. With a gasp, she went to sit up, but a gentle hand pressed her back down. “Easy my lady, everything is alright” a voice soothed her.

As her vision cleared, she began to make out the form of Tibarias, standing beside her. He wiped her forehead with a cool, wet cloth gently.

“What- what happened?” the young queen asked, struggling to form words with her still dazed mind trying to regain consciousness. “You blacked out from the heat, but you're alright now”. As he said that, the memories began to flood her mind.

Her mind suddenly went to her husband, why wasn't he here? “Baldwin, where is he? Is he alright? I know how worried he gets” she began to panic again, a thousand scenarios flooding her mind about what could have happened while she was unconscious.

A small smile crossed the royal official's face as he gestured to her side with his eyes.

Turning her head slowly, y/n was suddenly aware of a gentle weight on her shoulder. Her mind was instantly put at ease when Baldwin's mess of blonde curls tucked under her chin came into view as well as his arm draped over her stomach. His mask was removed and placed on the side table closest to her. His warmth was pleasant, especially without the cold of the iron mask against her skin.

“He fell asleep at your bedside earlier this evening after remaining beside you all day,” Tibarias explained. “He was so worried about you. He felt awful for having you out there in the heat”.

Y/n smiled softly. She loved him so much and the fact that he was so worried about her and her health constantly, despite his disease, made her love him even more.

Gently, she lifted up her arm and placed it around her husband's back. “Thank you Tibarias. I can assure you that I am fine now. You are welcome to go get some rest” she offered through half lidded eyes and a weak smile.

“Thank you my lady, have a pleasant rest” 

“To you as well”.

Once Tibarias left the room, she turned her attention to Baldwin.

“I’m sorry for scaring you my love” she whispered to his sleeping form, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Thank you for taking care of me” she said before closing her eyes, finally allowing the pleasant breeze coming through the open balcony doors and her husband's soft breath against her chest to lull her into sleep.

[mossygirl333]

i’m here as soon as i heard your inbox is open 😭

it’s okay if you don’t wanna write it, and it’s stupid but at least hear me out pls!!!! 😭

what if ghost was in love with reader but was kinda sceptical of them, because they’re not british? i meaan due to his line of work he has to have some trust issues JUST BECAUSE OF THAT (not talking about his upbringing and whatever, thats another story….)

yk good ol' being sceptical of your partner and hurting them by that so we could enjoy fluff later 😭😭😭😭

An: This isn't stupid at all!! I think it could be really cute (i'm gonna make this a multi-part series and you cant stop me mwahahahaha) <3

Across The Hall - Pt. 1

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x college student!reader

Tw/Cw: Mentions of Johnny's death (bi!simon, Ghoap), mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of medication - therapy - depression, mentions of suicide, college!reader

Home. Home?

He didn't know what it was. He didn't have one, never did - something he realized a long time ago. Floating through places frequently.

His childhood house was never full of warmth or love. But what it was full of were budded out cigarettes and empty liquor bottles. Every time he drinks that brand he felt close to his father.

Simon rarely drinks now.

That was before. Before Johnny.

Johnny was his home if a home could be a person. With his wolfish grin and loud laugh. With a simple hug that man brought him down to earth. Settled his anxious rapid thoughts and PTSD riddled flashbacks.

He wished he could crawl into him, take a nap in his ribcage, right next to his lover's beating heart. But he settled for cuddling, it was the closest he could get.

That was where he was meant to be, all this time. Every bad memory led to him. It was worth it, because without everything he would've never met Soap. And Soap would've never met Ghost. And all that abuse and trauma was for something beautiful.

Simon was gonna propose. They would foster a baby girl. And they'd live happily ever after.

Everything was perfect.

Except life doesn't turn out like that. Life is just a constant stream of shitty situations with nice commercial breaks. And how much he loved that commercial made it all the harder to skip.

It took one bullet to turn his life upside down and inside out. So close they were to everything Simon ever dared to dream of. Lost to that X13 Auto bullet nestled into his brain, the same brain that held all those memories and beautiful creative thoughts.

Lost.

What his "home" was now, was a small standard apartment in Manchester. Minimalist, he didn't need a lot. He was gone for more than half the time.

Except now he was back. Discharged after almost killing a new recruit during a spar session. He argued for hours with Price, he couldn't leave the base. The same base where him and Johnny met. The same dorm room they shared a drunken kiss and a weak confession of sexuality. Where they cried and made love and laughed their asses off. Not the room where Johnny drew him while he slept.

He couldn't leave that.

Price said it was making it harder to move on. Maybe he was right, he was right, Simon just didn't want the ugly truth.

Price handed him a pass, set him on a plane, and sent him back to his apartment with mandatory therapy sessions every 3 days.

Just the thing he needed.

-

His heavy boots hit the floor, walking across the long hallway. His prescription came in, as much as he hated taking it. Stopping in front of the door, he turned the key and walked in. Pulled down his black mask and threw his hood back, scarred skin now warmed by the sun coming through his windows.

He set down his small brown paper bag, settling down onto his bed. Staring at the Tv. He fell into a shitty rhythm a few days back, but if he told the therapist he was bound to be sent to a mental hospital.

Putting a X13 Auto gun in his mouth. Louded. Safety off. Him and Johnny could die the same way, different times. Meet each other again in the afterlife.

But he couldn't. He was a coward. A pussy. Dumb and weak and small.

His breathing shook and he's snapped out by a gentle knock on the door.

He stares at it, trying to make the walls not seem so closed in. Swallowing thickly he stood up, walking quietly towards it. Hand settled on his gun, hidden away in the holster.

He swings the door open and looks down. A woman..? A woman. Ah. His hand leaves the gun, letting the fabric of his hoodie hide it again. "Is there somethin' wrong lady?" He asked, deep and British.

"Hi sorry, I just wanted to tell you that I'm your new neighbor. Right across the hall!" You sound awfully chipper, pointing at your door across from his.

"Ah. I see." His eyes darken. That accent...

He practically flashbacks to Graves and that cocky smile. Shepard and those cold evil eyes.

"Yer American?" He suddenly asks before you could go.

"Oh yeah!" You smile. "Land of the free ya know!" You giggle and wave goodbye. Leaving him to his own devices.

You seem docile enough. Weak. He could kill you in a real fight. But that stupid fucking accent wormed its way into his head. it's stupid how such little things could trigger his PTSD.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And Americans took all of that away from him.

At that moment he decided he hated you.

[theresstillgrowinghere]

I don’t often find I have much to say during chronic illness awareness months anymore. I’m tired. My words feel tired. I don’t feel like I have anything new to add. Sometimes I worry though that that in part comes from my having been in various digital chronic illness spaces for almost a decade. Of course it feels tired to me. There are things that rattle around my brain that feel so obvious and commonplace (and that have been said much more eloquently by others before me) but may still be worth expressing, just judging by the ways people in my life haven’t been able to understand

So for gastroparesis awareness month this year, there are a few things I want to note from my experiences (tw for food/eating, weight without numbers, medical trauma)

1) My relationship with food is so scarred and multifaceted. It is messy and thorny, conflicting and complicated

(I am scared of food. I miss food. I hate food. I want to eat so badly. I never want to think about eating again. Tell me in detail about how it tasted. I love food. Please don’t ask me to join you for a meal. I don’t want to miss the communal aspects of eating. I feel so disconnected and other and separate just because I don’t eat. Sometimes I do try to eat and it makes me sick. Don’t comment on it, please; it’s not helpful to scold or encourage - I feel shame either way)

2) There is no cure. There is only management. I think people understand this in theory more than actuality, because when I say this I mean please, please stop expecting any management option to be The Thing. Please don’t expect something to offer substantial improvement, even if it is a life-saving dramatic change. As I have tried to explain to people in my life, those types of interventions are often complicated and risky and, in our broken healthcare system, very difficult to access until the situation truly is dire and life-threatening. Which can mean that the body takes significant damage before getting there. Sometimes by the time you access the intervention, that damage is irreversible and the goal is just to stop further decline. It’s not making me better; it’s keeping me from getting worse. For some reason that’s difficult for people to understand

(But sometimes people do find what for them is The Thing or are The Things, and that’s an important piece of the whole picture. The problem is the persistence of unrealistic expectations among people around us)

3) My relationship with healthcare is vital but fraught and heavy. I rely on it tremendously just to stay alive. It is also my only in-person access to the world and to people, which is a weird kind of mindfuck. But I am also deeply afraid of it after so many years of trauma. I am terrified of hospitals and medical professionals. I’m sorry for the way that fear makes me irrational, makes me assume, makes me protect myself. I know so many medical professionals are so caring and kind, but it is very, very hard to go into a medical setting trusting that that will be the case

4) There are some things I wish truly were obvious. Like don’t comment on someone’s weight, ever. Don’t say you wish you could “have a little of that” to change your appearance. Don’t try to convince me to “just try to eat a little.” Trust that I know my body best. Don’t offer me unsolicited advice or recommendations. Don’t say “when you get to be my age…” because I will point out that, based on the amount of damage to my body already, it is very possible I will never reach your age. But more to the point, I am not too young to be this sick. It happens

Anyway, these are my 3am-notes-app, camped-out-on-the-bathroom-floor thoughts. It is also important to note that they exist in the context of my gastroparesis being born of and coexisting with my other chronic illnesses, and they all become so deeply entangled

Wishing everyone well. Hoping your August is kind and gentle

To everyone with gastroparesis (and other digestive disorders, really), I’m sorry your tummy hurts, and no, you actually don’t need to be very brave about it. As I heard someone say recently in a different context but definitely applies here as well, “We weren’t born to be fighters. I don’t want to be brave. I want to be okay.” I just want all of us to be okay

[circular-jerkular]

Little Is A Dumb Word Anyways

The old man in this case is syscourse. I do not want to start shit with the individual linked here, but I think it's vitally important to discuss how atrocious these sources are, particularly as others have been in agreement with them. Here's a link to the post. Content warning for SA, as it's not tagged. This post isn't here to bitch about the user who posted this, however -- it's to dismantle the ideas they're presenting, which they keep presenting. Do not, for the love of God, fucking contact the user with this. It is blatantly obvious they do not want to hear it, and they've already received enough harassment at this point. They will not be convinced out of their misinformation by harassment, and I am very disappointed in everyone who chose to go after them. You are worse than the misinformation being spread.

I am not writing this for you, OP, and genuinely, if you happen to read this, I hope you (and your thumb, I saw about your hospital visit) are doing alright.

But I figure the general syscourse community needs to be able to discern real information from... what you posted. Because you're trying to pass your opinion off as fact using illegitimate sources that don't actually support what you're saying. And that's something that does need addressed.

TW for, well uh, trauma discussions, lol. Also, please excuse the color coding -- it's needed for me to process just what on Earth I'm writing.

STEP ONE: SOURCE REVIEW

So, let's talk about the sources OP uses here first!

Source One: The Mighty

To start, their first source is from The Mighty, which is a newletter opinion article website dedicated to mental health. This particular article is someone discussing "every type of alter role," though they only actually depict 10. What a lovely article this is, which:

Assumes every system has a host

Discusses types of alters but not really "roles" as depicted in medical literature (such as "animal," "dead," and "demonic," as well as little, as none of those re actually 'roles')

States that demonic alters "come about by the host blaming the abuse on a supernatural being or the abuser using it as a reason to hurt the child." This is not universal and is not even the case for most demonic alters I see.

Uses the term fictive, which is not a medical term for the role. Also doesn't mention factual introjects, which used to be one of the most common types of introjects in systems (or at least were cited as that at one point, I distinctly recall that).

Assumes every system has gatekeepers

Simply put, this is all the opinion of one system, based on their own experiences. They have no sources, they have no claims beyond their own ideas, and while what they say is perfectly valid for their system, it doesn't fit mine. For instance: My demonic alters did not form from supernatural beliefs and have their own actual roles beyond being demonic, I have no host and no gatekeepers, and I have no fictives but I do have fictional introjects (I do not use the term fictive). This article is almost entirely useless to understand my system.

So, what do they say about littles? "Unlike biological children, they can usually understand very complex concepts." So littles are not biological children and can understand complex concepts (yknow, like consent). "They commonly speak and act like children." Commonly, but not always. "They can be a version of the host as a child, the child that was wanted, or just a trauma-free version of the host." None of these options actually describe my littles in the slightest. And the rest of the description is entirely personal information about their own system.

In general, this source is entirely based on personal information and what the individual has gleaned from their experiences with systemhood. I could just as easily post my own "10 types of alters in systems" and include my dreamway part and the two created alters, along with "elf alters," since I have one. I could also depict littles as my own are represented, which would be something like "Unlike biological children, they usually understand very complex concepts. They rarely speak like actual children or act like actual children. They're sometimes younger versions of various parts in the system, or are meant to hold the trauma of maturity. Part of their healing is reclaiming childhood, but part of it is reclaiming the sexual freedom that was stolen from them." Cause, well, that's my experiences.

Source Two: The Dissociative System Fandom Wiki

Their next source is the... fandom... wikipedia for Dissociative Systems. I did not even realize they made a fandom page for my disorder.

Interesting choices all around.

Anyways, I don't think I need to explain how inaccurate a wikipedia page can be. This is not a scholarly source; there aren't any references to back up the ideas presented in this very short article, and the edit history could be literally anyone with internet access. A little themselves could've written this article.

So, what does this source say? "A little is a type of alter that takes on characteristics of a child." Vague, but I suppose that works. "They may appear younger in the innerworld and often act like a little kid." May appear younger, but not necessarily will appear younger. Often act like a little kid, but not always. "Each system's littles are different in what they can and cannot do. Some littles may be able to drive or work while others cannot." Oh. Okay, so every system works differently, and some littles may do adult tasks. "It is important to treat each little differently depending on what they need." Oh, awesome, so this article acknowledges that some littles will need something different. My littles require sexual things in order to heal, so that's awesome that this article acknowledges those cases! "A little often is a traumatized young part that hold onto the memories of abuse the system suffered during that age, but not always." Yep, my littles are not that. Actually, it's mostly me (Rice) who holds onto that! So nice that this article shows that. "A little tends to be between the ages of 0-10 years old, but different systems may use a different age scale to define who is a little in their system." That's the last bit -- acknowledgement that different sysems define littles differently than just 0-10 -- which is nice, since we count our ageslider who is usually 21 when he fronts now, and our 12 (13?) year old.

So, overall, this article can be summarized with, "Every system is different, so treat littles the way they need to be treated for each individual system."

Source Three: Trauma Dissociation Dot Com

Finally, a fairly decent source. At the very least, this website cites the information it provides, which is a damn step up from the last two. Unfortunately, I cannot find much information about the site managers, but I can find that the aim of this website is, essentially, summarizing information from medical sources. Not bad! I would love if someone with more free time could dig into this one a little bit!

The linked article is long. And of course, with any long piece of DID information, I definitely disagree with some of what it posits. For instance: "All the alters together make up the person's whole personality." This idea, presented with this wording, can be incredibly confusing for systems -- this information was presented to me to mean that we all had to fuse together in order to be a true person, when really, it simply means each alter in the system as a whole is responsible for the outward personality presented to others. I do wish it were rephrased!

To keep a long article short, let's see what this says about littles:

"Often nicknamed "littles" or "little ones" are a common type of alter. Several child alters exist in most people with DID." So far, so good; many DID systems experience having littles in their system. "Child alters often talk in a child-like way, but unlike a biological child they can normally understand abstract concepts and long words." Mm, abstract concepts, such as consent. They are unlike biological children. "They are often found to hold memories of child abuse which occurred at around the age the child alter feels he/she is. [7]:18" Often, but not always. Mine do not have those experiences! "Some may have the speech or appearance of a very young child, the youngest being unable to talk, read or write. [7]:18" Glad none of mine are like that, and that it acknowledges that only some child alters are like this. "Child alters may gradually age of may remain the same age. Some child parts may hold feelings of terror and pain, while others may be playful and fun-living and have only positive memories. [16]:60 A child alter may also be an idealized representation of the "perfect child" from the "perfect" family, for example the "good boy". [7]:18" (Emphasis mine). So, repeatedly, this article also acknowledges that all of this is subjective to the specific system's experience. It's an overview and nothing more.

TL;DR: Each article acknowledges that sometimes, littles can understand abstract or mature concepts, beyond what is expected of biological children. The first article shares that littles understand complex concepts. The second article determines that every system's little requires different things. The final article describes common aspects of littles while also acknowledging they are not the same as biological children.

None of these sources agree with OP's assertion that littles cannot consent and must act like children.

Your own sources disagree with you. Each of them suggest that littles do not have to act childlike, and even says most of them do not think like biological children.

STEP TWO: RESEARCH

However satisfying it is to get a good debunk out there, it's also important to correct misinformation by providing new information to fill that void. And, to be frank, two-thirds of those sources were garbage anyways, regardless on if they agree with OP's opinion or not. So, what does the research actually say about littles?

Unfortunately, I do not have the free-time I once did. Even with the grace of delays and snow days that I have received from Mother Nature recently, and the hard work I put in at work to get all my grades completed fully this past month, I just cannot put in the time to find all the various articles on littles and child parts. So why don't I just toss out the big guns?

Source: Therapeutic Hazards of Treating Child Alters as Real Children in Dissociative Identity Disorder

This paper was published in the Journal of Trauma and Dissociation, volume five, and was written by Shielagh R. Shusta-Hochberg, a clinical psychologist who worked in NY at the time of publishing. She now has a private practice in Naples, Florida. The article focuses on the treatment of littles in therapeutic settings.

The article opens up with a basic description of how DID forms, as well as the dangers of misdiagnosis and mistreatment. It's a lovely review of the horrors of having this disorder. The author also mentions how therapists need to be gentle while also setting firm boundaries -- something I've seen echoed frequently in treatment guidelines.

Then, we get to the parts about child alters.

"These child alters can be identified by any or all of the following: childlike vocal tone and pitch, sing-song or stilted speech cadence, simple or naïve vocabulary, body language and posture including widely open eyes with raised brows, frankness or timidity, brief attention span and rapidly shifting focus, behavior such as playing with office objects, and childish affective tone." Shockingly, even though I do not experience littles who act like children, my littles do fall into some of these categories. They do use more childlike vocals, and they do have open eyes and body language that is different from the adult parts of me. Notably, the author does not say a little must be these things to be classified as a little; only that they can be identified in this way. She continues, "Putnam (1989) has observed, “Child personalities may be easily recognized by their nervous fidgeting, movement overflow, and childlike gestures (e.g., rubbing the nose with the back of the hand)” (p. 122)." I have to disagree with Putnam here, however, as more often, my adult parts display these traits -- due to our autistic tendencies. Which, could open up a very interesting conversation about how autistic adults are treated like children, just like littles are... anyways. "Child alters are so common in cases of DID that that every clinician treating the disorder, however briefly, is likely to have encountered them. Child and infant personality states often outnumber the adult aspects of a patient’s system." Mmm, I would love a source on that. Unfortunately, there is none -- poor authorship there imo.

I like what she includes next, though, so much that I'll include the entire paragraph in full: "It is important to remember that the patient is an adult, despite the childlike ego-states. These parts are not actual children. I am in agreement with Ross (1997) who is of the opinion that “child alters are not packets of childness retained in a surrounding sea of adult psyche. They are stylized packets of adult psyche. . . . I hold the child alters responsible for their behavior in the same way as the adult host personality”(p. 147)." Once again, as everyone has been saying for the past day, littles in adult bodies are still adults. They are not actual children! Ross treats littles with the expectation of adult responsibility, and I think that's really important.

The article continues with how to explain DID to various parts and have the patient accept the diagnosis, as that's a common struggle. It doesn't hold much bearing on this conversation, so I'll skip it for brevity, but I do so love the technique this article describes of window blinds. But then. The author goes in a wild left turn, one that honestly I think my therapist could benefit from hearing. Essentially, she posits that, since child parts are often seen as so different from the system -- oftentimes with childlike mannerisms, for instance -- then, "The clinician unbends and reacts to the “child” in familiar ways, responding with more warmth and simpler speech. Thus, child self-states elicit and reinforce nurturing and care-taking responses on the part of therapists." Basically, treating them like children makes the therapy less effective.

The case studies (as in, true experiences of DID systems) she presents where therapy has been made less effective -- or even completely denied and impossible for the patient -- are horrifying to me, from an outside perspective. She describes cases wherein:

A patient stormed out because a new therapist would not hold her child parts when they fronted, insisting that her old therapist would do so.

A patient breaks down at the suggestion from a friend that they go watch an animated cartoon movie that has monsters in it, as her child parts cannot handle that.

A patient completely socially isolates because she spends so much money on her littles that she cannot afford her rent, and she lies to her friends about who the toys are for.

A therapist throws a child-part party for her DID patients, because it's "repairative" for the childhood that was lost. Despite the adult parts of the patients feeling disturbed by this, they go along with it, retreating deeper into the consciousness to avoid the situation. Then the littles are upset that the experience turns into a therapy session, rather than a fun party.

And, lastly, a description of a woman who falls prey to SA due to an older gentleman emotionally manipulating her younger parts.

All of these occur because the system (or even the therapist) is treating their littles like actual children.

This is horrific to me as someone who did have parts who we treated exactly like this. Our littles -- yes, the ones we frequently talk about being adults and having sexual desires and who do adult things -- used to be child parts through and through. Sie could not function as an adult when we were in high school, and she only started to get there when we were in college. Which... okay, when we were in high school, we weren't even an adult. So that makes some sense.

But Sie absolutely was 100% the type of child part that is frequently described by those who isolate littles and treat them like children. And the fact is, isolating littles and treating them exactly the same as children is harmful to many systems, and can prove to be a barrier to healing.

OUGH! STILL MORE TO READ. Speedrunning it now, the next section discusses treating littles like, well, part of a system. "The work may involve bringing the patient around toward a more family systems approach toward the DID (Chu, 1998), stressing that the safety of the “children” is ultimately in the domain of the patient herself, and not that of her therapist, psychiatrist, parents, partner, employer or friends. The fact that there is only one body despite feelings to the contrary is sometimes a very difficult truth to accept for DID patients." I repeat: It is the job of the patient, and not anyone else, to ensure the safety of littles.

The next section of the article discusses real-world safety concerns with littles, which I feel like are discussed frequently already, but really hones in on the fact that it is the system's responsibility (and nobody elses) to be responsible for taking care of their system. Examples include:

Switching while driving to a child part who cannot drive

A child part forcing a patient to go to an appointment, which worsened physical pain

A patient (it doesn't specify a child part, but I can assume that based on the topic of this article) suffers bad falls from the littles attempting things beyond their capabilities

Not an example, but she also mentions medication issues and how it might be needed to have a medication manager.

The author of the article specifically calls out that adult parts should be in control for difficult tasks that require them, and I fully agree. Until a child part is capable of handling adult tasks, then adult parts should be the ones handling things.

Next, she discusses re-parenting, and frankly, I fully agree here too. The parenting has to come from within, not from a therapist -- and definitely not strangers online dictating what littles should do. The article does push toward fusion (in this case, labeling it integration) of parts, and she addresses that many systems view this as a sort of death. "The host may misinterpret integration as death, saying something such as, “We love the kids. We’re never going to integrate. It’s not fair that they have to die.”" Treating littles like children would definitely contribute to that fear.

And then.... Fuck, man, the article rips my heart out by including a statement from littles within a patient's own system -- a patient whose child parts were repeatedly treated as children, over and over again. Here's the whole quote.

"It’s hard for the bigger parts to take us seriously. It’s hard to be out in a grownup body, especially in the early days of awareness of the DID. The protectors want to protect us too much now from reality, and we can deal with it now. They are overprotective and there’s no need to be. We are as much a part of the whole system as the other parts and want to be equal. As the walls come down, we can share our childlike joy with those (older parts) and they won’t close us out. We can tolerate their seriousness. And we’re able to comfort them, not only them comforting us. They can hold us but we can comfort them, because they need to be loved, comforted, or forgiven. Barriers are coming down. It’s mutual.”

I fully suggest reading that full article.

TL;DR: Treating littles as children in a system can be incredibly harmful for the patient, in many different ways. In the end, it is up to the individual system to reparent themselves, and it is not anyone else's job -- and, really, no one else's right -- to speak over that system's functions.

STEP THREE: PERSONAL REMARKS

As much as I would have loved to find more, discuss more, and go deep in depth with this research, I just... can't. I don't have the time anymore. And genuinely, I don't expect others to.

What I do expect is that others don't try to pass off their opinions as fact. And the thing is, regardless of how many times you post "It's just an opinion," that does not negate that you then attempted to back up that opinion as if it was supported by medical literature. You attempted to say that your opinion was supported by medical facts. And the fact is, the medical literature disagrees with your opinion, with sources to back it up.

I want to address some of the common things I see from systems who try to dictate how other littles act.

"But your littles are vulnerable." One, not all littles, according to medical studies. Two, isn't the goal to heal and make it so that my littles are not so vulnerable as to be a danger/dysfunction for me? Isn't the goal to make them less vulnerable? How do you propose we do that without also engaging with safe risk?

"But your littles aren't safe." One, that is for every single system to decide for themselves. Two, the Dignity of Risk is in effect here, in that it's okay if someone else gets hurt. Yes, even badly hurt. It's not the concern of anyone but the system if they get hurt.

"But my littles/my friend's littles-" Stop. Regardless of any trauma you or your friend may have, it does not impact anyone else. Your trauma is not my trauma. It is vastly, vastly different.

"If your partner fucks your littles, they're a pedophile." Pedophilia is specifically attraction to a child's body. I will not be posting any pictures of my body on here for fear of the Ban Hammer, but you have to understand that I am not a child. Even if my littles were to fuck my partner, my partner would be attracted to an adult body. At most you could say my partner would be interested in... IDK, a higher pitched voice??? (Side note, because I've never actually mentioned this: My partner has absolutely 0 interest in fucking my littles and we've discussed at length how they'd be a little weirded out by it.) Side side note: as a victim of CSA and whose parents used their disorders to try to make them feel incapable of love, stop fucking boiling the term pedophile down to "someone who has sex with someone I deem too childlike to have sex." I'm tired of my trauma being dismissed so you can use a buzzword loudly.

"Letting your littles consent makes you a predator." So, when I was 13-16 and [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and [REDACTED] because I thought I could consent, does that make me a predator? Are CSA victims predators because they thought they could consent? How am I being a predator to myself? My littles are me. Your arguments make absolutely no sense and are wildly offensive to CSA survivors.

"I'm going to judge you for it." K. Do you make it a regular habit to judge people's recoveries? Cause like. I highly suggest you take a class in Not Giving A Shit, perhaps a gardening class so grass could be caressed by your tender hands, and maybe, just maybe, consider either therapy or self help for your own issues, if you haven't yet. You should really concern yourself more with YOU than with judging other people.

"I'm going to report you for hurting yourself."

I am a 27 year old queer individual. I am a person who has a loving spouse. We have sex. Do you regularly report (and to whom?) adults who have sex? Do you regularly look at people and say, "Actually, your relationship is going to cause you harm because I said it is, so I'm reporting you for your safety!"

In that case, I should be reporting every single syscourser, because syscourse harmed me, so clearly everyone who is in the tags must be self-harming, right?

I think that's the funniest part of all of this. In a dark humor kinda way. See, letting my littles access sexual content -- letting Sie write smut, and letting LED embrace sexuality, and letting Gazi (whom we are now comfortable talking about after doing good good therapy about it) enjoy and take pleasure in her sexual desires -- has let us heal from our CSA and feelings of insecurity.

Without letting them have that, we would have continued to hold resentment for myself. For who I am. For "what I am because of what they did to us."

You are trying to tell me that my recovery is secretly harming me, and that the medical world agrees with you. And frankly, you have no right to lie to me like that.

... But then you look at the syscourse thing and go, "Yeah, no, it's totally normal and okay and up to the individual if they're harming themselves."

Pick your lane and stay in it!!!

Ough. Thank you for reading, if you got that far. Two very long nights and a very, very patient partner who is waiting for me upstairs. I'm ending the post here, with a reminder to everyone to please be respectful. Respect other systems privacy. Respect their rights to dignity and risk. Respect them as people. And for fucks sake, let littlecourse end. (It's a dumb word anyways).

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 14: Lovely

Ao3 | 2.9k Words | Lovely's POV

Lovely chaperones a field trip. Caelum runs out of line. Sam is tense. Vincent is attention starved. Asher entertains 30-something kids. Freelancer is trying not to indulge. Caelum has an imaginary friend.

TW: Seperation anxiety, mentions of over-medication, child with trauma, discussion of fire safety procedures.

In your three years of teaching kindergarten, you’d never had a single field trip run completely smoothly from start to finish. It was a hazard of wrangling thirty-odd kids with one other adult in a new environment that you could only prepare them so much for. They were often fun, often educational, but always chaotic.

You were very grateful that Vincent had volunteered his firehouse as your class’s location for your fire safety field trip. He couldn’t necessarily help you with the kids, but just having him close by was a comfort. You knew that, come whatever chaos or tears you encountered, you could meet Vincent’s eye and know he had witnessed it all too. 

Firehouse trips were always a good time, but they were high energy and the kids certainly showed it. You were certain that you’d have a bus full of snoring kids on the way back to school in a few hours. As you gave your final directions, kids bounced up from their seats and met you, in a shoving and pushing line, at the front of the bus. You took a deep breath. 

You loved your kids. That was what you kept repeating to yourself over and over again as you raised your voice over squeals and blurted out questions to give them directions as the bus came to a halt outside of the 10-19. You had a pretty peaceful classroom. You’d made sure of it after your particularly tortuous first year. You had heard that being a first year teacher was chaotic, but you never would have guessed just how much stress it would cause. The first thing you did your second year was drill those kindergarteners like they were in the Navy. Classroom management was still a work in progress for you, but your kids knew how to walk in a line, how to work quietly at their tables, how to ask for pencils and turn in their work all on their own. 

Well, most of them did. 

Caelum was a special case. You loved that kid, but he had had a tumultuous year with you last year. He struggled with impulse control, with sitting still, with following base directions without multiple reminders. He was a problem child, and when there was a ruckus in your classroom, it was almost always related to Caelum. 

But he was smart. He was smart and his grown ups  were doing everything they could for him. Caelum came into your classroom in January of last year and was clearly on much too high a dose of whatever ADHD medication his previous doctor had prescribed him. It made your stomach turn to think about his blank stare, his mumbled, confused sentences, the exhaustion that spread across his little features after recess. You would take this, this boisterous, loud, opinionated kid over the zombie you first met any day. 

Even when he bolted out of your perfectly formed line the second he saw the ambulance, his little legs carrying him faster than you could ever hope to. You tossed a look over your shoulder to the other teacher accompanying your class on the trip before chasing after him. 

They just couldn’t make shoes comfortable enough for a kindergarten teacher. You had very nice sneakers thanks to Vincent’s Daddy’s money (although he hated when you called it that), but when you took off after a sprinting child, you still felt pain spring up your calves and into your hips. All of the crouching and standing and walking and running after runaway children did your joints in. You were young, but you certainly didn’t feel it. 

It wasn’t you in the end that caught Caelum. He ran straight up to the two paramedics that were gathered at the back doors of the large ambulance. You’d been inside of an ambulance before, and even still it surprised you how big they seemed on the outside. On the inside, it was almost oppressively small, the metal walls and machines and paramedics pressing in on all sides.

Caelum bounded up to the paramedics before throwing himself around one of their legs, squealing out; “Buddy!” 

When they turned, face slackened with shock, you recognized them. One of Caelum’s grown ups. They had accompanied Gavin and Caelum to open house this year and to one of the two parent-teacher conferences your school had hosted so far this year. You recalled, from casual conversation, that they were a medical student. You had no idea that they were a paramedic as well, and on Vincent’s crew no less. 

You spotted Sam as he balked, reaching as though to extract the bouncing kid from around his paramedic, but they laughed and scooped him up, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Caelum,” they chided, smile clear on their features, “you told me you wouldn’t run around on your own this time.” You remembered the last field trip you’d supervised with Caelum, to the Natural History Museum. It had taken two hours to find him, wandering alone in the paleolithic exhibit. The only time you’d ever managed to get him to sit still in class was when you were talking about dinosaurs. You were terrified that his grown ups would be upset with you, but when you’d called Gavin that afternoon, he had profusely apologized. It turned out that Caelum was pretty used to being independent, and he struggled when he wasn’t allowed to move as a free agent. Walking in line had been a multi-year battle that you were still losing. 

“Hey,” Sam gave you a weary smile, bent to press a kiss to your cheek like he always did when greeting you. “Didn’t realize you taught my Probie’s kid.” You patted his shoulder, noted the tension that had eeked into his muscles. You’d have to mention it to Vincent. Maybe he could convince Sam to go to that massage place he dragged you to every month or so. 

“Neither did I!” You smiled amicably as they set Caelum back down and turned him towards you. 

“You’ve gotta stay with your class, okay Buddy?” They ruffled his blonde curls as he craned his neck to look up at them. “Your poor teacher is running around after you when you should be learning about firefighters.” 

“It’s alright,” you smiled gently, offering your hand to Caelum, which he took. He looked up at his Buddy, eyes wide, “it’s really no trouble. We have fun, don’t we Caelum?” 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, looking back over his shoulder to his Buddy, “don’t leave, okay?” He called. Their face slackened, eyes slipping to Sam before falling back to Caelum. 

“Yeah,” they said, “okay, Buddy. Go, you’ll miss your fieldtrip!” 

Caelum toddled along with you, glancing over his shoulder nervously every few paces as if to make sure his Buddy hadn’t suddenly evaporated while he had turned away. 

Abandonment issues. It was a terribly common ailment for kids who had spent any time in foster care. You’d only had one other student who had spent time in the system, and she had been shuffled back into it and away from your school a month into her stay with her foster parents. You’d seen the look on his bus driver’s face when Caelum got on in the afternoon, twisted into indifference when she met every other child with a wide smile. He probably gave her lots of trouble when separating from his grown ups. 

He was fine by the time you led him back to the group who were gathered, sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on the floor around a tall, lanky firefighter. He was in the middle of explaining all of the parts of the firetruck when his eyes met yours and you recognized him from the handful of barbecues and parties you’d managed to drag yourself to. Asher waved softly as he continued his explanation. 

It was a glorious display, so much so that it entertained even you. Asher somehow made the idea of Stop, Drop and Roll a fun game, made calling 911 in case of an emergency a secret mission, made evacuating a burning building a fun romp down the stairs. 

When he got to that part, Analisa, the only student you’d ever had who used a wheelchair, had raised her hand, her face pinched in concern. 

“I can’t walk down the stairs.” She said. Asher knelt in front of her, his face never falling from its cheery smile. 

“Well, remember how I just told everybody you shouldn’t use the elevator in a fire?” She nodded. “You get to break that rule.” He gave her a conspiratory grin. “Make sure Mom or Dad is with you, and make sure they check to see that the elevator is safe first, then ride it on down!” 

“What if it’s not safe?” She pressed, anxiety raising her shoulders to press to her ears. Asher caught her eye again, still calm and steady. 

“Then you go to the stairs with everybody else.” He said. “Remember how we talked about calling 911? Once you’re in the stairwell, you call them and tell them right where you are. Then, when I or the other firefighters get there, we’ll come straight to you!” 

“That could take forever!” She squealed, fidgeting with her skirt. 

“Nope!” Asher laughed. “Actually, most fire trucks get to fires in five minutes. That’s no time at all.” 

“And they’ll come get me? They won’t forget about me?” 

“Of course not.” Asher smiled. “It’s our job! We always take care of people before we take care of houses.”

Asher took the kids on a tour of the firehouse, down to the fancy kitchen where snacks had been set out for them. The kids calmored into seats at the large table as you helped pass them out. Chatter and laughs filled the large space. You leaned against the far wall, apple juice box in one hand, and observed as the kids talked and ate. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” Vincent’s smooth, sultry voice caught you off guard. You turned, pulling your attention away from the kids for just long enough to confirm that it was him there before turning your attention back to the kids. 

“Same thing as you, gorgeous,” You stopped to put on your teacher voice, “Jamie, do not pull Harley’s hair. Apologize. Thank you.” You turned back to Vincent. “Working.” 

“Hard, I can see.” He smiled as he leaned against the wall next to you, a respectful distance. “Any trouble?” 

“One run away kid.” You said. “Hey, you never told me you worked with one of my kid’s grown ups.” He knew what you meant by that term. Vincent was very familiar with your insistence on never calling a kid’s guardian their ‘parent,’ or worse, ‘Mom and dad.’ You didn’t want to risk even one of your kids feeling excluded for a moment in your classroom. He blinked at you for a second before realization spread across his face. 

“I never put that together.” He said. “I even- you’re gonna think this is funny, I even mentioned to them that you work with kids his age.” 

“My little airhead.” You smiled. “Hey, is Sam okay? He looks stressed.” You shot a sharp look to one of your troublemakers until he got the point and stopped trying to crawl onto the table. 

“I… don’t know.” He sighed. “After New Years, he’s been a little… lighter? I guess?” 

“Yeah, a make out sesh with a certified hottie would do that.” You laughed. Asher had started gathering the kid’s abandoned paper plates and juice boxes as they finished. 

“Okay little dudes,” Asher raised his voice, effortlessly overtaking the kid’s noise. “Let’s go sit in the firetruck!” 

The kids cheered and followed after him as he led the way. You took up the rear of the group, trailing behind them as Vincent’s arms fell to his sides and twitched. You knew that he was itching to wrap his arm around your waist, to slide his hand into yours, to pull you into his chest as you walked. You both knew that it was appropriate in front of your kids, so he contained himself. Just barely, if his sideways glances were any indication. You’d have to give him plenty of your undivided attention when you both got home.

After getting to honk the fire truck horn and trying on parts of the firefighter’s heavy gear, you watched as exhaustion crept over the kid’s features. It had been a long day, and Asher’s endless energy had bled them dry. Having missed naptime, you were sure to have a near silent ride back to school. Thank God. 

Caelum’s Buddy met you at the bus doors, hands in the pockets of their uniform pants. Caelum bolted out of line again, ran straight into their arms as they swung him up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before setting him back on the ground. The rest of the kids filed onto the bus as they talked quietly. You watched as Caelum’s little face grew red, his brow pinching, and listened as his voice grew whiney and high. Uh oh. Tantrum incoming. 

“I’ve still gotta work, Buddy,” they said softly, smoothing their hand over his curls, “and Gav will be waiting at school to pick you up.” 

“But-” Caelum sniffled, the sound of tears tearing through his voice, “but-but… I don’t- can I stay with you?” 

“No, Buddy.” They shook their head gently. “You’ve gotta go back to school. But Gav will pick you up and I’m sure he’ll take you for ice cream if you ask real sweet.” 

Caelum began to cry, but not the loud, screeching cries of a little kid tantrum. His tears were quiet, sniffling, contained in his little chest as though he was afraid to make a single noise. You watched as their face crumbled, as they leaned down to wipe his cheeks and pulled him close to their chest. 

“Listen to me, Buddy,” they said softly, “you’re gonna get on the bus and wave at me through the window. Gav’s gonna pick you up at school and you’re gonna have so much fun with him this afternoon. I get done with work at six, that’s only four hours away! I’ll be home right after. And we can see if Damien and Huxley and Lasko will come over for movies!” 

Caelum looked up at them, tears dotting his long lashes, before he nodded once and started to march up the stairs of the bus. He stopped stiffly at the top before running back down, wrapping his arms tight around their legs, and then climbing back up and plopping into a seat at the front of the bus. 

“That was pretty good.” You nodded. You watched as they tried to sneakily wipe their eyes, but caught sight of the wetness on their fingers. 

“His therapist is trying to get us to stop indulging him.” They smiled, eyes weary. “We used to- the second he started crying, just give him what he wanted. But he has to go to school. He has to get on buses. He has to be able to walk away from us eventually.” 

“It’s super common.” You said, looking up at the bus window as Caelum stared out at the two of you. “Separation anxiety. For the record, you guys are doing great. And he’s a great kid.” 

“He’s the best.” They nodded. 

You loaded back on the bus. You did a headcount. All present and accounted for, you made your way to the seat next to Caelum. He waved to his Buddy as the bus pulled away and settled back down on to the bench seat. 

“Did you have fun today, Caelum?” You asked softly. You already heard snores from behind you, and the soft chatter that had filled the bus as you boarded was dying out by the minute. Caelum sighed heavily as he looked up at you, as though he was contemplating something very serious. 

“Yeah.” He said eventually. “I liked when we pretended we were on fire.” 

That made you laugh. 

“Well, good. I’m sure the firefighters are glad you could come and visit.”

“My friend knows a firefighter.” Caelum announced. 

“Yeah, your Buddy works with them.” You nodded. 

“No,” Caelum shook his head, his face overtaken with the severity of a kid correcting an adult in one of the few instances they could. “My friend. He comes and talks to me at night time when I can’t sleep. He knows a firefighter.” He looked down at his sparkly pink sneakers and smiled as they twinkled in the scant sunlight streaming in from the bus window. 

It wasn’t uncommon for kids to develop imaginary friends. Most kids had more creative ones, but kids with lots of trauma or super, scary smart kids sometimes just had… people. Sometimes other kids with rich, complex social lives. Imaginary moms and dads, brothers and sisters. Sometimes adults who filled out roles they were missing in their lives. 

“You’re friends with a firefighter now too.” You bumped your shoulder with his. Caelum blinked up at you as he rested his head against the bus window. 

“He just knows them.” Caelum mumbled, his eyes slipping closed. His cheeks were still ruddy from his tears. “They’re not friends.” 

He drifted off, head lolling with the motions of the bus. You watched out the window as the city rolled by. You spotted a fancy, silver car parked a few blocks from the firehouse. You’d have to mention it to Vincent. He’d know what sort of pretentious make and model it was. Hell, he’d probably know the asking price off the top of his head.

[medicallyfascinating]

!!!!!! TW: Ludwig von Aegir and mentions of abuse, violence, child murder, torture

Christ, this is a long post.

RIGHT- I've been a massive baby about making a post about Ludwig von Aegir because I'm absolutely terrified that someone's going to come for my head.

BUT I'M ENDLESSLY INTRIGUED BY HIM

He's such a fascinating man.

Who made you this way Ludwig, hmmm????

Why are you an evil bastard of a man who okays the torture and murder of children????

Because, I'm going to be straight up- there are tons of arrogant nobles like Lorenz's father and Waldemar AND THEY AREN'T (actively) KILLING LITTLE CHILDREN

So, here's my question. Who hurt him???? What happened to create such an intense disconnect with ANY empathy AT ALL

And it's not like he's incapable of love. Because he loves Ferdinand. Unless all of that is based purely off of the fact that Ferdinand is his heir and therefore, implying that the care Ludwig feels for his son is purely from being able to show Ferdinand off as his perfect heir to the Aegir household and fuck that's depressing.

Obviously Ludwig is a psychopath. Even if you want to go off of the medical diagnosis- which is- "lack of empathy", "manipulative behaviour", "superficial charm", "impulsivity" and a "tendency towards boredom". Almost all of these fit what we know about Ludwig and whatever doesn't could easily be interpreted.

Sure there are genetic factors and neurobiological factors and I can totally see Ludwig being one of those children who scares everyone by just being abnormally violent and cruel and manipulative as a child.

But there is also definitely a cycle of trauma within House Aegir and it would make ABSOLUTE sense to me that Ludwig has developed some sort of personality disorder from his experiences within the household (even outside of my own personal headcannons).

Ludwig being a narcissist is not just likely but it might as well be canon, especially with how Ferdinand reacts to absolutely everything. His need for praise and to be the best at everything and how defensive he is and the genuine devastation any time he is criticised for anything.

Ferdinand was 100% raised by a narcissist and it was definitely Ludwig.

Ludwig manipulated the other nobles into couping Ionius. He then took power for himself, tortured and killed Ionius' children, indoctrinated his own child into his ideals and tried to marry his son off as a child. All of this whilst conspiring with the Agarthans purely so he could gain as much power as possible. Like-??????? AND THATS JUST THE CANON STUFF- THERE'S THINGS HE'S DONE THAT WE DON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT

I have an endlessly long list of Ludwig headcannons but tbh I just wanted this to be a ludwig rant because- im endlessly fascinated by him

Anyway-

This concludes todays episode of WHY DO I ALWAYS END UP BECOMING FASCINATED WITH THE LEAST LIKED CHARACTERS

[truths33k3r4]

~Indie TMNT Comic Dubs~

( All dubs were recorded and edited by Create2Glorify! )

( All credit for the art and comic goes to @indieyuugure! )

Ninjas in New York Part 1

Ninjas in New York Part 2

Ninjas in New York Part 3

Ninjas in New York Part 4

Ninjas in New York Part 5

Ninjas in New York Part 6

Ninjas in New York Part 7

The News Lady Part 1

The News Lady Part 2

The News Lady Part 3

The News Lady Part 4

The News Lady Part 5

The News Lady Part 6

The News Lady Part 7

Aliens and Mysteries Part 1

Aliens and Mysteries Part 2

Aliens and Mysteries Part 3

Aliens and Mysteries Part 4

Aliens and Mysteries Part 5

Aliens and Mysteries Part 6

Aliens and Mysteries Part 7

Aliens and Mysteries Part 8

Aliens and Mysteries Part 9

THE RED LINKS ARE A WARNING FOR BLOODY/GORE/SCARY CONTENT. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

[darkskywishes]

Levi and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

TW: mentions of rape and childhood sexual abuse

Throughout the course of Attack on Titan, and even before the canon timeline, Levi experiences innumerable traumas, not the least of which are repeatedly experiencing the deaths of his closest friends and comrades. By the end of the series, Levi has lost every single person he had been close to, being the last of the Survey Corps' veterans. Given the truly immense amount of traumatic events Levi suffers, it'd be difficult to believe that he wouldn't have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and indeed, he does display several key features of the disorder.

Paraphrased, the DSM-5-TR PTSD criteria are as follows (American Psychiatric Association, 2022, p. 301):

Criterion A: stressor (one required)

The person was exposed to: death, threatened death, actual or threatened serious injury, or actual or threatened sexual violence, in the following way(s):

Direct exposure

Witnessing the trauma

Learning that a relative or close friend was exposed to a trauma

Indirect exposure to aversive details of the trauma, usually in the course of professional duties (e.g., first responders, medics)

Criterion B: intrusion symptoms (one required)

The traumatic event is persistently re-experienced in the following way(s):

Unwanted upsetting memories

Nightmares

Flashbacks

Emotional distress after exposure to traumatic reminders

Physical reactivity after exposure to traumatic reminders

Criterion C: avoidance (one required)

Avoidance of trauma-related stimuli after the trauma, in the following way(s):

Trauma-related thoughts or feelings

Trauma-related external reminders

Criterion D: negative alterations in cognitions and mood (two required)

Negative thoughts or feelings that began or worsened after the trauma, in the following way(s):

Inability to recall key features of the trauma

Overly negative thoughts and assumptions about oneself or the world

Exaggerated blame of self or others for causing the trauma

Negative affect

Decreased interest in activities

Feeling isolated

Difficulty experiencing positive affect

Criterion E: alterations in arousal and reactivity (two required)

Trauma-related arousal and reactivity that began or worsened after the trauma, in the following way(s):

Irritability or aggression

Risky or self-destructive behavior

Hypervigilance

Heightened startle reaction

Difficulty concentrating

Difficulty sleeping

Criterion F: duration (required)

Symptoms last for more than 1 month.

Criterion G: functional significance (required)

Symptoms create distress or functional impairment (e.g., social, occupational).

Criterion H: exclusion (required)

Symptoms are not due to medication, substance use, or other illness.

--

I've indicated the symptoms that apply to Levi, or that I believe likely apply, based on canon content in purple. Let's go one by one.

Criterion A: stressor

During the canon timeline, Levi was exposed to both large amounts of death and threatened death, primarily due to titan casualties, but also due to the circumstances of poverty and deprivation in the Underground. Notable examples include witnessing his mother die and decay while he starved as a young child; Furlan and Isabel's deaths; the deaths of Petra, Oluo, Gunther, and Eld during the Female Titan arc; the loss of Kenny; Erwin and the new recruits' suicide charge against the Beast Titan; and Hange's sacrifice.

Levi experienced multiple instances of serious injury, with the most significant being his injuries resulting from the thunderspear explosion and the Battle of Heaven and Earth. Given the nature of blast injuries, it is likely Levi suffered from internal damage—in particular, rupture of the respiratory and hollow organs, such as the lungs and bowels. We're also shown he suffered complete separation of the index and middle fingers of his right hand, as well as ocular damage to his right eye. A concussion and perhaps a traumatic brain injury following the blast is also likely, as well as hearing damage. Following the Battle of Heaven and Earth, he also experienced significant injuries to one of his legs, necessitating the use of a wheelchair three years post-Rumbling.

In regard to actual or threatened sexual violence, Levi was born and lived in a brothel, in which his mom was a prostitute. It's not an exaggeration to say Levi was likely the result of rape. Given the circumstances of his upbringing, it's also likely he witnessed the sexual encounters between his mother and the brothel's patrons and was perhaps sexually abused himself when his mother was unable or unavailable to protect him. Given the Bad Boy panel previews, we also know he was directly threatened with sex trafficking on at least one occasion.

Only one stressor is required to meet this criterion, and Levi meets all of them. He very much fits the profile of someone with complex trauma or C-PTSD, although that diagnosis has not yet been added to the DSM.

Criterion B: intrusion symptoms

Canon evidence of intrusion symptoms is a bit harder to find, given the heavy plot focus of Attack on Titan; however, I do believe there is enough to make some inferences.

During the Uprising arc, Levi takes note of a starving woman with her baby on multiple occasions, who appears to remind him of his mother. This indicates to me that he thinks of his mother and the circumstances in which he grew up with her with some regularity.

When he later confronts Kenny in the same arc, he specifically questions Kenny regarding the relationship he had with his mother, again indicating that Levi's mother took up significant space in his thoughts.

While we know Kuchel chose to keep Levi (rather than abort him), thus indicating Levi was a desired baby, it's evident that Levi's upbringing overall was damaging and distressing due to the severe poverty, food insecurity, and violence he endured as a young child. Accordingly, it's safe to assume that these memories related to his mother were likely to be both unwanted and upsetting.

We also have this panel during the War for Paradis arc, during which Levi ruminates on the deaths of his comrades and the purpose behind having saved Eren's life so many times. His facial expressions are truly crushing and filled with deep despair.

In terms of nightmares, we know that Levi experiences some truly disturbing dreams from the "Smartpass Good Night, Dear and Sweet Dreams Vol. 02" short story, in which he envisions his closest comrades all morphing into a sea of blood on a red carpet. Clearly, the affect of his dream has been influenced by the specter of death constantly looming over him.

Criterion C: avoidance

The full phrasing of this symptom (trauma-related external reminders) is, "Avoidance of or efforts to avoid external reminders (people, places, conversations, activities, objects, situations) that arouse distressing memories, thoughts, or feelings about or closely associated with the traumatic event(s)." Similar to the unwanted upsetting memories symptom under Criterion B, there is not direct canon evidence, but I do believe there is enough to make some inferences.

Primarily, what sticks out to me about Levi is the fact that no one near him seems to have knowledge of his past, which indicates he does not talk about it. When his past is brought up, it's always people who have some direct knowledge about it speaking on it (e.g., Kenny or Erwin). This is shown both directly in canon, such as when Petra speaks to Eren regarding the rumors of Levi's recruitment into the Survey Corps, and in supplemental Smartpass content, like the Close Up interview with Erwin and Levi.

This comes across to me as an effort to avoid conversations, and thus, reminders and memories about the topic.

Criterion D: negative alterations in cognitions and mood

There's quite a lot of evidence for these in canon.

In terms of overly negative thoughts and assumptions about oneself or the world, Levi has plenty. He appears to have the persistent belief that he only exists to be of service and use to others; he views himself as a tool, one which has no value if he is not directly contributing to something. This is exemplified by the following panels:

When Erwin asks Levi if he would be willing to be in charge of keeping the titan serum and determining whom to use it on, Levi answers with, "Why would you bother asking me?" This shows that Levi has no regard for his own personal feelings.

When Erwin and Levi are discussing the plan to take down the Beast Titan during the Reclamation of Wall Maria, Levi expresses his agreement with the plan by remarking that taking down the Beast Titan will act as him "[making] amends for failing to kill that armored brat earlier." This shows that Levi viewed it as his responsibility, and thus, his failure to take down Reiner. He placed an undue burden on himself here, casting blame for outcomes that should not be solely attributed to him.

And then there's this panel in the lead-up to the final battle, in which a severely wounded Levi is being reprimanded by Armin for being reckless and not resting, in light of his injuries. Levi responds, "... You want me asleep in bed? You're going to forget I even exist if I rest any longer." Levi suffered truly disabling injuries, and yet, he shows complete disregard for himself—concerned that no one will remember him if he is not actively fighting. This shows a projection of his own lack of self-worth onto how he believes others view him: if he is not useful, then he does not matter. Levi also shows disdain at the concept of resting and having been asleep, as if that's somehow a sign of laziness on his part, which is of course, untrue. No one would have faulted him for resting—he truly needed and deserved to rest.

We also know that Levi blamed himself for Kenny leaving him, which can be surmised from interviews with Isayama and the expression on Levi's face when Kenny abandoned him. Levi also asks Kenny why Kenny left him, which shows a certain preoccupation on Levi's part, wherein he worried there must have been something inherently wrong with him to make Kenny leave.

On the topic of Kenny and Levi, Isayama is quoted as saying:

"Levi still had the experience of being separated from Kenny during his childhood. He was constantly troubled by the thought of "Kenny left because I couldn't fulfill his expectations." When the Uprising occurred within the walls, and he confronted Kenny again as an enemy, Levi sought to meet what couldn't be satisfied previously." (x)

Regarding both negative affect and difficulty experiencing positive affect, Levi's expression and mood is frequently shown as depressed. There's a great post by @cosmicjoke on the topic. In terms of the latter, Levi laughs and smiles so infrequently that it's a significant moment at the conclusion of the Uprising arc when he smiles after Historia playfully punches him.

For decreased interest in activities, the full phrasing is, "Markedly diminished interest or participation in significant activities." Levi's character is contrasted with all the other characters in the series in the sense that he has no dreams of his own. Both Armin and Hange have that greater curiosity about the unknowns of the world, represented by the sea and titans; Erwin is similar in that he desired to validate his dad's theories about the outside world and the existence of other humans; Eren craved freedom above all else; etc. Levi, on the other hand, is never shown as having those same dreams and ambitions. Hence, I would say he demonstrates a markedly diminished participation in significant activities, as even though his complete lack of self-interest is immensely admirable, it is also deeply tragic—particularly as dreams and ambitions are often crucial for one's psychological well-being.

And then we also have feeling isolated, for which the full phrasing is, "Feelings of detachment or estrangement from others." On the topic of Levi and relationships, Isayama is quoted as saying, "It’s likely because he is afraid of forming close relationships. Because he exists in a world where one can be eaten by a Titan at any time, he consistently avoids building 'family'-like connections with others." (x)

This manga panel is a good example of how Levi views himself as detached from others. Pay attention to the phrasing: "And I doubt normal people think about these things on a daily basis... So that means I'm abnormal... Probably because I've seen far too many abnormal things."

Criterion E: alterations in arousal and reactivity

With all of the above laid out, Criterion E becomes very easy to meet.

For irritability or aggression, this is one of Levi's known character flaws, borne as a result of his upbringing.

For risky or self-destructive behavior, we have clear instances of Levi engaging in battle to the detriment of his physical well-being.

For hypervigilance, the last manga panel I attached provides a good example of that.

For difficulty sleeping, Levi is famously an insomniac, often quoted as getting 2-4 hours of sleep a night.

Criterions F, G, and H: duration, functional significance, and exclusion

Have the duration of Levi's symptoms been greater than one month? Yes.

Do the symptoms result in distress or functional impairment? Yes.

Are the symptoms more attributable to the physiological effects of a substance or another medical condition? No.

Thus, Criterions F, G, and H are met.

Citations

American Psychiatric Association. (2022). Trauma- and stressor-related disorders. In Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed., text rev.).

[maccreadysbaby]

Writing 101: Characters with Medical Issues

Part One - Mobility Aids and/or Prosthetics

Aka, me doing research for you!

TW: talks about what leads to a prosthetic… obviously

Ah, yes, I get it. Having more diverse characters, more things that can go wrong, more hurdles — it’s all a nice addition to a story. But slow down! Don’t just shove an issue at a character because you like the idea! You need to research and decide if you actually want them to have that or if you just got a little excited. I’m here to provide you a bit of base research on a commonly used issue. Today: Prosthetics and Mobility Aids.

First of all, mobility aids are exactly what they sound like — things that aid someones mobility. These include wheelchairs, crutches, braces, walkers, canes, forearm crutches, etc.

Prosthetics are artificial devices designed to replace a missing body part. Most commonly, legs and arms.

How Someone Gets Prosthetics or Mobility Aids

The most common way for someone to get a Prosthetic is, obviously, for them to lose or severely damage a limb in an accident. For example, a soldier stepping on a mine, a car crash that completely crushed an arm, heavy machinery full-on chopping off a hand. See: Proctor Ingram, Fallout Four (2015) You can also lose extremities from diseases like bone cancer, where surgeons must remove it to remove the cancer. See: Leo Roth, Red Band Society (2014)

It is more common for people to have mobility aids for temporary amounts of time, for example, a broken leg or twisted ankle resulting in having crutches. For long lasting or life long mobility aids, you’ll need to look into physical disabilities, different types of muscle trauma and nerve damage, or an injury that wasn’t able to heal properly. See: Freddy Freeman, Shazam (2019)

Choosing When to Add Prosthetics or Mobility Aids

First things first — you should design your character with the mobility aid or prosthetic already in mind. They can affect the entire personality of a person, so I wouldn’t recommend creating a character and then deciding their mobility aid. For example, a child with forearm crutches due to a physical disability probably won’t like doing all the same things the other kids do on the playground, or the same sports their friends at school like. There’s also the unavoidable issue of them feeling out of place or “weird” no matter the age. So, obviously, there are some aids more suited for different genres of writing. For example, a long journey like Lord of the Rings would be tough for someone with a wheelchair or walker, but it’d be okay for a romance. That’s why it’s so important you don’t spring something like this on a character in a spur of the moment thing. Here are a few things I’d recommend deciding beforehand: 1 - What type of mobility aid or prosthetic is best for your type of story? You can choose any you like, but it’s good to consider if you want to write everything that comes with pushing a wheelchair to Isengard. 2 - Would your character have access to these aids or prosthetics, or would they have to settle with something else? If your story is post apocalyptic, they probably wouldn’t have access to the same things, or if your story is set in the past, you’d have to research aids and prosthetics from that time period. Even consider characters making their own — which is also a good way to mold it to your needs.

What Comes Along with Prosthetics and Mobility Aids

Okay, so you’ve decided you want your character to have a prosthetic or mobility aid. You’ve weaved it into their personality and your story. Now comes making it realistic… what do people with these things experience? Think about? People with prosthetics have challenges and additional baggage that comes along with having a prosthetic. First of all, if your character just got this prosthetic, it’s gonna be hard to walk on and even harder to wrap their head around. Sometimes, prosthetics hurt. There’s several different kinds and different activities each one can do. They change size as the person changes size. There are many different ways they attach to the body that suit different needs. Mobility aids have their own set of challenges as well. For example, fitting a wheelchair, walker, or crutches through a tight space. Fitting braces under or over clothes. Stairs. You have to think about enclosed spaces like cars, public transport, planes, elevators, bathrooms. These challenges will change with your story. For example, on a long outdoor journey, how will each different aid or prosthetic react to the temperature, humidity? How will the one in the wheelchair or with crutches get up that mountain? While the aids and prosthetics come with their own challenges, new ones are gained based on the genre of your WIP. This includes what your character thinks about. In a post-apocalyptic work, they might not worry about being different or out of place, but they might spend every day hoping and praying their homemade leg brace doesn’t break.

Reminder!

⚠️ DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH IF YOU INTEND TO ADD A CHARACTER WITH THIS INTO A WORK OF YOURS. STUDY HOW THESE THINGS EFFECT THE COMMON LIFE OF A PERSON. IF YOU KNOW SOMEONE WHO HAS ONE OF THESE THINGS, ASK THEM. MURDER YOUR EYEBALLS BY RESEARCHING ON YOUR COMPUTER. WATCH A SHOW WITH A CHARACTER WHO HAS ONE. KNOW YOUR STUFF BEFORE YOU MAKE YOUR CHARACTER, I BEG.

[love-bugsy]

the worst thing about love is… | jason todd

the worst thing about love

you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.

one | two | three | series masterlist

tw: stitches, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, completely ooc Jason but he’s like my own lil character now and I’m protective, very inaccurate medical terminology and procedure lol

only jerks steal other people's writing (just don't repost, mate)

There’s a dead man on your fire escape.

Well. He’s not actually dead, but his pulse is weak when you drag him into your living room, out of the relentless Gotham rain. Pulling your hand away from under his mask, you crouch down, peeling off the worn leather jacket around his shoulders and unbuckling his pauldrons. You feel around his back, brows furrowed. You can’t feel anything through the padding in his rain soaked shirt.

Hands wandering down to where his front is flat on the floor, you press down on his side, eyes widening when your fingers come back slick with blood. You go into autopilot, flipping him onto his back and yanking up his compression shirt. You might’ve gasped at the knife wound if you weren’t working on instinct. It’s bad. 

Shoving away the doubt clawing at the base of your skull, you steady your trembling hands. You’ve been trained for this. 

Don’t feel, just do.

The cut is long and serrated, and deep as all hell. It slices through the middle of a jagged, Y-shaped scar that chains over his shoulders like a noose. Jesus. 

It’s like he was stabbed and then dragged across the floor, cutting diagonally across his torso. How is he even still alive? Your hands move faster than you can think, completing an internal checklist as you go.

Breathing? Fast and shallow through his modulator, no obstructions. Bleeding? Applied tourniquet to epigastric region - transfusion isn’t even an option… Your brain works overtime, sifting through diagnostics lectures - penetrating abdominal trauma, debrided of devitalised tissue, no visible debris… You trace the edges of the wound looking for inflammation or fluid buildup; signs of peritonitis, but the weapon seems to have missed any internal organs. Lucky. Even luckier that he landed on a surgical resident’s fire escape.

Reaching over to the lamp by your couch, you shift it so that it shines directly over his abdomen. A last check of his wound confirms that there are no external indications that you should conduct a laparotomy. You just have to sew him up and hope to god the knife didn’t puncture anything internal.

You keep a hand planted firmly over his tourniquet, applying constant pressure, reaching for your backpack. Dragging it over, you use your teeth to open your suture kit and your free hand to sterilise his cut with Betadine and alcohol, wiping gentle circles outward from the wound. You dip your needle like Achilles in the Styx, hand and all, into the sterilising liquid, tugging a glove on with your teeth. 

You grip the needle driver in your dominant hand, pickups clutched in the other and take a steadying breath. There’s a stillness to the room, quiet save for your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The wound is large - high tension - so… mattress sutures… horizontal so the tension is spread over the edge of the wound. 

You take your first bite, adrenaline driving your needle into a clean stitch. You reverse it, passing through his cut again, before tying it off with the practised motions of a thousand surgical knots tied on yarn and thread and fraying jeans. You settle back on your knees after the first suture, readying yourself for the stitching to come, and start the next one.

~

Hours later, you haul him onto your couch, sitting him up on the arm rest to take pressure off of his dressed stitches. Frowning deeply at how uncomfortable he looks - even unconscious, you tuck a throw pillow under his scuffed metal mask. 

Leaning close to check his breathing, you hear crackling slow and deep through the helmet’s voice modulator. Bone-deep relief floods your system, a little sigh leaving your mouth involuntarily. Sitting heavily against your coffee table, you press the heels of your hands into your weary eyes. 

He’s stable. For now at least. 

Head bumping against the edge of your couch, you breathe in deeply, fighting the anxiety twisting in your ribcage. The couch smells like rubbing alcohol, stinging your nose so badly your eyes water. It’s followed by something familiar - underneath the heady scent of petrol and metal - like… if you mixed Gotham up into a single smell; rain and smoke and wet pavement. He… he smells like-

“Jay!” 

The faulty fluorescent lights - courtesy of your parent's small family diner - seem to flicker in tandem with your strident yell.

Your best friend looks up at you through a mop of dark hair, collarbones poking out of his thin t-shirt, second-hand leather jacket chucked haphazardly on the other side of the booth. He’s stolen your copy of Jane Eyre, flattened with one hand next to a plate of old fries you’d scrounged for him.

You tug your book from his grasp, tucking your pen into the pocket on your apron. He looks up at you with a mouth full of fries, infuriating confusion written across his face.

“What? You promised I could read it.” You sigh in exasperation.

“When I’m finished! And-” A dramatic gasp rips from your mouth when you examine the book. “Are these- grease stains?” You take the book in both hands, swatting Jason with it.

“What so it’s okay to hit me with a book but not get grease- fuck, jesus, okay, okay!” You raise the book over your shoulder with both hands.

“Do you yield?” His mock-angry expression almost makes you laugh, a hand held up near his face to shield from your attack. There’s a soft twist to his frown, like he’s trying to stop his mouth from pulling into a grin. He raises his hands in surrender, and you relax your hold on the book.

Rookie mistake.

Jason darts forward, faster than you can blink, grasping your waist with both hands and dragging you towards him. He yanks the book from your hands and lets you go, grinning childishly at you with the book in his hands. The cat with the canary.

You throw your hands up in exasperation before planting them on your hips like a disappointed mother. The admonishment on the tip of your tongue turns into a weary sigh when you hear your parents calling for you from the diner kitchen. “Fine. But you actually have to try to not spoil it this time.”

Jason crosses his fingers over his chest, “Scout’s honour, birdie.” 

You try not to flush at the nickname, just like you do every time he says it. Still, you fold like a stack of cards.

(He spoils it the next day.)

~

When you wake two hours later for rounds (at the ass-crack of dawn), he’s already gone. You pad quietly around your kitchen making coffee from day-old grounds, cautious not to disturb the sanctity of the early morning (or the ghost of his presence).

The only evidence of him is alight in the dim light that spills over your kitchen counter and into your living room - the deep indents in your couch and the bloodstains on your carpet… The rain on your wood floors, from the fire escape window you’re sure you didn’t leave open.

hi, hello, uhh this is the first fic I've ever posted so bear with me. if anyone actually sees this, i do apologise for the inaccuracies and lengthy prose. also, this will be a series so stick around if you like slow updates, slowburn and second chances. thanks for reading my rambles.

with love, bugsy

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Ficfinder finds: by touch, by sight

Rottmnt Fanfic Summary: In which time dilation ruins everything. In which ten minutes on Staten Island translates to months in the Prison Dimension. In which Leo comes back, but he comes back wrong. In which there's nothing for their weird, traumatized little sewer family to do but take care of one another.

by touch, by sight: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is written by @story-monger! This fanfic is unfinished, and still updating, so as the fic updates, the post will too!

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Plot is five out of five!! The plot for by touch, by sight, is riveting, and very engaging!! As the author stated in the beginning notes, the story itself is inspired by @cupcakeslushie's Feral Leo Au (which is a comic series that can be found here). By touch, by sight is another version of a Feral Leo Au, told from a different authors perspective! ^^"

Suspense/Mystery: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Suspense/Mystery is four out of five!! In the beginning, there is much more suspense and mystery as Leo is healing, and the family is looking out for him. Then as the story evolves, the suspense shifts into a new setting. The suspense in this story, greatly revolves around Leo, and his mental states."

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Angst/Hurt is five out of five!! As this is a Feral Leo Au, this story is practically built upon angst and hurt!! This fic contains emotional angst, physical angst, medical angst, and plenty of trauma!!"

Fluff/Comfort: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is four out of five!! This fic has a good blend of hurt and comfort all throughout it. While Leo is struggling, his family is there to help as much as they can, offering support, and kindness to him."

Emotions Conveyed: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Emotions Conveyed is two out of five!! While this fic does go into some traumatic things, nothing is incredibly graphic nor disturbing. This fic won't mess with your head or psyche much, and instead will just effect your emotions."

Drama/Tension Level: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Drama/Tension Level is three out of five!! The drama and tension between the family is mostly triggered by Leo's inability to communicate, and the family not knowing what to do. This fic has some tension between the brothers concerning Leo's stay in the prison dimension."

Triggers: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Triggers are three out of five!! By touch, by sight has some darker themes in it, though nothing shown is very graphic. I'd say this fic has a good balance between just enough angst to make to appealing, while not so much as to be overwhelming. Make sure to check the authors notes on each chapter for a TW and read the tags just to stay safe!!"

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Reading) is five out of five!! The writing is easy to follow, and has no difficult to read fonts or special effects."

Legibility (Audio): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Audio) is five out of five!! I have listened to each of the chapters in audio book form so far, and they have all be wonderfully compatible!! This fic works well for reading, and listening to!!"

Length: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Length is three out of five!! Currently, by touch, by sight has a chapter count of 20+ chapters and a word count of 61k words, though that may end up changing."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

by touch, by sight: Chapter List

(Chapters will be added as I rate and appraise them ^^)

(Yet to be added)

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Ebony Wings of Hydra - CH 1

Pairings: Wanda x R

Word count: 3.7K

Summary: Hydra has been all you have ever known. But one day when the base you live in is attacked you escape. What will the real world be like for you. The avengers are happy to take you in but there are so many questions. You however are special. You have powers. Ones hydra wants back. Love, Drama, Romance (but not spicy), Illness, Injury, and trauma; What will win?

TW: Past trauma, fainting, flinching? Kidnapping, torture (mentioned), malnourishment, dehydration, medical shit, canon-typical violence

A/n i think this will be a series so stay tuned lol

The alarms were going off. Soon many guards ran past your cell towards what sounded like explosions. They rocked the floor with force and you watched in awe as the vibrations shattered the lock to your cell. You froze. This place was awful but it was all you had ever known. It was home. In a heartbeat you decided.

Waiting until the sound of footsteps disappeared, you carefully slipped from the cell. Once you had cleared the halls you took off into the surrounding woods. There was a trail of destruction leading west. You kept to the edge of it following the track for a half mile before something glinted up ahead. It was huge and looked very expensive. Your legs were shaking and the edges of your vision began to dim. After all you had just run a mile on an empty stomach. It wasn’t like hydra gave you five star meals or meals at all unless you were on the brink of death. Knowing you would regret it later you needed somewhere to crash. Maybe whoever owned this would be nice enough to let you leave once they found you. Carefully you stepped onboard. You had barely taken five steps before your knees buckled and your vision dipped entirely. Your body went sprawling and you fell to the floor. The world was dark and you were out cold. And that’s how they at found you when they came back.

***********************

“So shawarma?” Tony asked as they began walking back. A collective groan sounded

“Tony we had shawarma after the last six missions.” Natasha said placing her gun back in its holster.

“I can order us a pizza?” Wanda posed and frowned as she realised the jet was open to the woods.

“Hey Tony-?”

“Yeah I see it.” He said putting down the Ironman mask again. “Friday scan for heat signatures.”

“One heat signature detected inside.” Friday responded. “Shit. Ok guys stay behind me.” He said. Wanda ignored him and stepped cautiously into the jet.

“Umm Nat you may wanna come see this.” She called.

“Coming.” Nat said and tony followed behind her. The entered to see Wanda crouched by your side. Still out cold. Wanda’s fingers were on the slow steady pulse of your neck.

“She’s alive” Wanda said.

“Friday run threat analysis.” Tony said.

“Enhanced abilities detected. However she seems to be malnourished and dehydrated. She has extensive scarring across her body. No persons found to match her in government records.”

“Right … ok” tony said. “Thoughts guys? Come on this was suppose to be an easy mission.”

“I say we take her in. She obviously has nowhere else to go. Treat her as friendly until she threatens us. Standard medical care. From the sounds of it she’ll be out for a while yet. We can have Bruce look over her back at base and when she wakes up we’ll go from there.” Nat said.

“Do you think she’s from the base.” Wanda asked still crouched beside you.

“I wouldn’t rule it out.” Nat said. “Make sure she’s secure. I’m going to get us out of here.”

“Got it.” Wanda nodded and tony wandered off to alert fury of a mission update. Wanda sat against the bench in the jet, gently pulling your head into her lap so she could make sure you weren’t uncomfortable and so you wouldn’t go flying when the jet took off. The engine hummed to life and the jet took off. Wanda brushed the small curls from your eyes. As she sat studying you face she wondered what colour your eyes were. Probably blue or green. After a few hours bay carefully set the jet down and tony went to debrief while Nat picked your unconscious form from Wanda’s lap. Carrying you bridal style with Wanda trailing behind.

“You know I’ve got this I don’t need an escort.” nat said.

“Um I wanted to come along. If that’s alright. Just to make sure she’s doing ok.” Wanda said hesitantly and Nat nodded as they silently made their way to the medical wing.

Carefully setting you down on the bed Wanda came and sat beside you and took your hand. She felt like she knew you somehow. It was odd but your aura that her magic picked up on seemed familiar but she couldn’t place it. Bruce came in a moment later checking a few things and placing an IV before giving Nat a quick update. Wanda listened from her chair.

“She’s malnourished and dehydrated. I have given her an IV but I’m hesitant to give a feeding tube before she wakes up. We don’t know her history and i don’t want to do anything wrong. When she wakes up give her something to eat. Keep her calm, from what I can tell she’s been through something traumatic based off the amount of scarring alone on her arms and legs. I’ll get you a change of clothes for her. I’m expecting her to wake up in the next couple of hours.” He said before nodding to Wanda and leaving.

“Thanks Bruce.” Nat called after him as he went back to his lab.

“I’m gonna go clean up. Are you ok to stay with her?” Nat asked. Wanda nodded she wasn’t very dirty her magic kept her hands clean so she didn’t need a shower imminently like Nat did.

“Ok get Friday to call me if she wakes up.” Nat said and left to shower. Wanda studied your face again trying to place where she knew you from.

You began to stir. Two women’s voices seemed to be nearby and it took all your training not to stiffen. Where were you? Were you back there again? Despite your primal need to find out more or if you were safe you drifted back out of consciousness again.

The next time you woke your eyes fluttered open before you promptly shut them again. It was too bright. Much different to the darkness of your cell. You heard shuffling beside you and realised there was a hand in yours. You stiffened and the weight beside you lessened.

“Nat?” A voice called softly. You heard another persons, Nat supposedly stir on your left side. You were surrounded.

“Hmm?” A sleep voice hummed.

“I think she’s coming around.” The voice from earlier said and you stiffened as you felt a hand brush the curls from your face. Internally cursing yourself for reacting.

“Actually scratch that. I think she’s already awake. You can open your eyes sweetheart.” The voice said and hesitantly you did hearing the voice chuckle. But it was odd. It wasn’t the cruel chuckle you heard when they beat you. No this one seemed softer. Safer. Familiar. You looked at the two women who sat beside you. Both had red hair. Both had green eyes. The one holding your hand was the one who had spoken earlier. Noticing you observing them Wanda cleared her throat and you flinched slightly.

“Sorry.” She said seeming concerned by your reaction while Nat just raised a brow. “I’m Wanda and this is Natasha but you can call her Nat.” She said. You nodded slowly.

“Where am I?” You whispered quietly. Wanda visibly softened at your tone.

“You’re safe. You’re at the avengers compound in New York.” Wanda replied

“America?” You asked.

“Yes.” Nat said. You nodded again slowly.

“What do you need me for?” You asked softly. Wanda looked confused.

“Need you for?” She asked. Her nose scrunching.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” You said softly.

“Oh honey no. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. This isn’t hydra. You are safe here.” Wanda said understanding now.

“I’m… free?” You asked softly.

“Yes. And we have a few questions but we can save them for later when you’re better. In the meantime eat this.” Nat said handing you a Nutella sandwich. You frowned at it. Taking it and studying it closely.

“What is it?” You asked not used to anything otero than the grey porridge you rarely got.

Wanda gasped. “You’ve never had a sandwich before?” She said. Suddenly feeling embarrassed you shook you head slightly. Letting a quiet “no” pass your lips.

“Try it.” Wanda said. And you looked at it again before deciding it was worth the risk. Biting into it flavours you had never tasted burst on your taste buds. You hummed quietly to yourself in content and your shoulders relaxed as you let yourself indulge. After eating half of it you felt full and slightly nauseous. Carefully you set it down on the plate in your lap.

“Done already?” Wanda asked and your cheeks burned with shame. Wanting to appease her for some unknown reason you picked it up again lifting it to your mouth when a hand stopped you. You flinched slightly and dropped the sandwich. The hand withdrew quickly.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Wanda said not meaning to scare you. “I just wanted to stop you and tell you you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you’re done with true sandwich that’s fine. You don’t need to eat more to appease me.” She said. Softly and you nodded.

“Do you think you could answer some questions for us?” Wanda asked carefully. You stiffened but nodded. Wanda hummed and decided to proceed.

“What’s your name kid?” Nat said.

“Subject 65798” you said softly.

“Jeez we need to call you something better than that.” She smiled softly. You exposed your left wrist to them and their eyes widening at the numbers tattooed on your wrist.

“But my brother called me y/n” you said quietly.

“You have a brother?” Wanda asked

“Had” you corrected.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda said.

“Don’t be it’s not your fault.” You said avoiding their eyes and picking at the bedsheets.

“Next question.” Nat said sensing your discomfort. “How old are you?”

“I’m not sure.” You replied honestly.

“Ok that’s ok. You look to be an adult but we can have Bruce do some tests fo find out.” You froze. Your breathing speeding up at the word tests. You knew tests. Tests hurt. Tests killed. It was Wanda’s voice that brought your back. Her concerned face was looking at you and both your hands were being squeezed in hers.

“Breathe y/n breathe it’s ok. You’re not there anymore. It’s ok. There we go, are you back with us sweetheart?” She asked softly. You nodded swallowing the shame you felt for breaking down.

“If you want to stop for today we can”. Nat offered.

“No it’s ok.” You said shaking you head. Wanda dropped you hands and you mourned the loss of contact. To say you were touch starved was an understatement.

“How long were you at hydra y/n?” Wanda asked.

“As long as I can remember.” You whispered.

“Do you have any powers we should know about?” She asked knowing you did but not knowing what they were.

“No.” You shook your head. If they didn’t know maybe they would let you stay you thought. Wanda sighed.

“We know you have powers y/n but I was hoping you would tell us yourself.” Wanda said

You stiffened. “Then why ask?”

“To see if you trusted us.” Nat said

“It’s a bit hard to trust when you spent your entire life in a cell.” You snapped and immediately felt bad as Wanda’s face fell.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not good with people.” You whispered.

“It’s ok.” Wanda said smiling again.

“It’s easier to show you rather than explain it. When I have some more energy I can do a demo if you’d like?” You said and Wanda smiled and nodded. Nat hesitated weighing the risks before agreeing.

“No. Not happening” a voice said from the door and you flinched. There was a man standing there with his arms crossed. You curled into yourself. You were defenceless in the bed and he stood blocking the only exit. Your heart quickened and you felt your breaths shorten.

“Tony not now. We would be with her the whole time. Not much can go wrong.” Nat said and they began arguing. Wanda watched before turning back to you and seeing you shaking as tears fell down your cheeks. She carefully put her hands over your ears sushing you as you flinched.

“Guys knock it off. Tony leave us be.” Wanda said with authority waiting for tony to leave before taking her hands from your ears. Instead she held you hand and helped you steady your breathing again.

“It’s ok.” Wanda said as she shifted to sit on the bed next to you. She hadn’t expected it but you threw yourself into her side. She gave you a comfort you hadn’t felt before. She was shocked stilling for a second before wrapping you in her arms. She petted your hair and whispered quiet words to you as you shook quietly.

“It’s ok. You’re safe now.” She said and pressed a featherlight kiss to the crown of your head. Your body relaxed and you drifted to sleep in her arms.

The next time you awoke you were still wrapped in her arms. However the room was different. She must have carried you here while you slept. The room was clean. A couple posters on the wall and a cold hot chocolate by the bed. You are curled in her lap as she read a book and ran her fingers through your hair. It felt amazing. You yawned and stretched like a cat. Wanda chuckled.

“You know you remind me of a puppy when you’re tired.” She said. You nodded still sleepy after getting more rest than you normally would.

“Where’s Nat?” You asked

“She’s training. She’ll be back later.” Wanda said setting down her book.

“I made a hot chocolate for you but it’s gone cold”

“I’m happy to drink it cold.” You said not wanting to waste her efforts.

“You don’t have to do that y/n” she said and you waved her off eyes wide ping as you brought the mug to your lips. The taste was amazing. Wanda chuckled at your expression.

“It’s even better when it’s warm.”

“I gets better?!” You asked and Wanda laughed at the chocolate on your nose. Using her finger she wiped it off celebrating internally as you didn’t flinch at the touch.

“If you want to come with me to the kitchen I can heat it up.”

“No it’s ok. They’re something I think I’m ready to show you now.”

“What is it”

“My powers.” You said softly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. You… you make me feel safe.” You said and Wanda beamed.

Wanda was confused as you led her to the roof. Her confusion turning to worry as you grew closer to the edge.

“Y/n wait! You could fall!” She said trying to rush to your side. You simply turned grinning and giving a mock salute before falling backwards with your arms spread.

“Y/N!” Wanda yelled rushing to the edge and peering over. Just then you whooped and shot upwards. Two ebony black wings spanning out from just below your shoulder blades. Wanda sat back in awe. You spun and dipped grinning wildly. You rarely ever got this much freedom to use your wings and they were stiff from lack of use. The wind in them felt amazing. You smiled and used your hands to create a ball of magic like Wanda’s except black. You grinned at Wanda’s shocked expression and made the magic disappear before carefully leaning back on the roof. Your black wings folded behind you and retreated into two black lines that ran down your back looking just like they were drawn on with a pen. The wings were now gone. You smiled and Wanda tan over to you.

“That was Awesome but never do that again I thought you were going to die.” Wanda gushed and your grin faltered.

“Amazing though. I’m honestly impressed. But u have one question.”

“Sure?” You asked feeling more confident now.

“Do I know you?” She said quickly. You turn disappeared. You were hoping she wouldn’t ask.

“You had the cell next to me in hydra.” You said sadly. “Only you escaped and I didn’t. But it’s ok. I never blamed you.” You said softly and Wanda pulled you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry y/n” she said running her hands through your hair.

“It’s ok Wanda.” You said.

“No it’s not. We left you … I left you.”

“And I never blamed you.” You said taking her hands. “If anything I should thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“It was you and your powers that gave me my magic.” You grinned.

“So you can do what I do?”

“Yep just my magic is black and I have wings because of the extra years of testing after you escaped.”

“Y/n I’m sorry” Wanda said and you held up a hands.

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t blame you and i never will.” You said softening and giving her a big hug.

“What did i miss?” Nat said walking onto the roof.

“Y/n has-“ Wanda started but you clamped a hand over her mouth. She stopped before you quickly pulled your hand away.

“EW Wanda … why?” You said cradling your hand and then wiping it on your black jeans. She had licked you. Wanda doubled over laughing while nat watched looking amused.

“Something you want to tell me y/n?” Nat asked again. You grinned at her before running and leaping off the edge of the building. You heard nat cry out and then gasp as you shot back up with your wings out stretched.

when you landed she cautiously ran a hand through the black feathers which felt softer than powdered snow.

“They’re beautiful.” She said in awe and you blushed slightly. When she removed her hand you folded them away again and they once more disappeared into your back. You made the two of them promise not to tell the team until you were ready and they agreed. But assured you the team would love them. You sighed and walked back inside with the two following you.

“Y/n? Isn’t it cold for you out there?” Wanda asked and you shrugged. It was nearing winter and you were in ripped black skinny jeans and an faded black AC/DC singlet with the sides deep enough your black sports bra showed. Your lace up black high top converse were double knotted and there was a small lesbian pride bead on the lace. Wanda had gone to the trouble of finding an outfit you would like and Friday had promptly gotten it delivered. You had a silver ring on your left pointer finger with a small skull on it and a black leather bracelet on the same wrist. Your hair was done in a half up half down braid that left locks falling part way down your back and shoulders.

“Its not bad. My body is used to extreme conditions so they don’t effect me as much as they used to.” You stated simply. Wanda looked sad and you quickly changed the topic not wanting to bring up memories for her either.

“Is there any chance i would be able to…” you trailed off realising you had almost asked for something.

“To what y/n?” Nat asked.

“Oh nothing.” You waved her off but nat persisted

“Y/n you can tell us anything.”

“I kinda … really need some more stuff. I don’t have well … anything so i need more clothes and some … other things. I mean i would love some art supplies it was kind of all i could do in the cell. But i don’t need them and i don’t want to waste any of your money.” You were rambling now. Wanda cut you off placing her hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n you can have whatever you like. Tony is rich as all hell and i could use a shopping spree. I’d love to help you find new clothes and I’m sure Steve can recommend some good art supplies. He draws right nat?” Wanda said looked over her shoulder at nat who smiled nodded.

You felt tears prick your eyes.

“Oh sweetheart its ok. I’d be happy to make you happy. And if you need anything at all i want us to be the ones to give it to you. Anything you want or need just tell us and we’ll make sure you have it. Honey your life has been hard and we just want to make it better.” She said pulling you in from arms length into her chest as small sobs wracked your body. You were so grateful. Wanda shushed you and gently ran her fingers through the ends of your hair. You were mildly surprised to feel another strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind as Nat sandwiched you between her body and Wanda’s. You let out a content sigh, wishing the moment would never end.

“How about i make us some lunch then we can go explore amazon” she said and winked “i have Tony’s login.” Which made Nat laugh. You simply looked confused

“Amazon? Like the rainforest?” You asked and Wanda looked you you with a grin.

“No its like an online shopping website. You order the stuff and it gets sent to you in the mail.” She chuckled and you felt the tips of your ears go pink.

“Damn i think even Steve might be more adapted than you at this point.” Nat said and bumped shoulders with you. She grabbed your hand and began leading you to the kitchen following Wanda.

MASTERLIST