#TW Psychological Trauma

[inevitablemoment]

June of Doom 2023: Day 30

Word Count: 584

Warnings: Post-traumatic stress disorder, past buried alive, captivity, claustrophobia, panic attacks, brief mention of post-partum depression

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries

Pairings: William Murdoch x Julia Ogden

I know that I dropped the ball with all of the other prompts, but when I saw what Day 30 it, it fit so perfectly with what I had in mind for this little snippet that I came up with after watching the Season 16 finale of Murdoch Mysteries.

Enjoy!

————————

The last thing that Julia Ogden remembered as she awoke with a gasp was this shock going through her very core, like she had been struck with a bolt of lightning.

No... she could still remembering the voice of Mathilda Crisp threatening her and William... and possibly Susannah.

An entire crime orchestrated-- a man's death fabricated.

And... Mathilda and her father needed her and William for... for something.

Julia's head whipped towards William-- he seemed to have been awake for quite some time before her.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"I don't know," William answered in a shaky voice-- something that she hadn't heard since Frank Rhodes had poisoned him.

The first thing that Julia noticed about where they were was that it was small. Wooden.

Like a coffin.

She thought that she could feel it jerk the both of them around.

"Are we moving?"

Julia moved to her feet on her trembling legs.

Memories of darkness and burning lungs hit her like she was kicked in the chest.

 No... no, this can't be happening again! Please, God, don't let this happen again!

Julia couldn't stop herself from beginning to scream and pounding at the walls enclosing her and her husband. "HELP! HELP!"

Strong, callused hands carefully grasped her forearm. Her chest, already tight as a drum, clenched further into her heart with fear before she heard a familiar voice.

"Julia."

The voice of someone that, in the span of a few seconds, she had forgotten was there.

"Julia," William gently urged as she turned to face him. "Save your strength. My guess is whoever put us in here doesn't care much to help us."

 "HELP! WILLIAM, HELP! HELP!"

Her lungs were burning and her heart was racing against her chest even as it pressed against it like a mechanical vise. Her stomach was churning violently, like choppy sea waters during a violent storm.

Her eyes began to burn as well, as she thought of Susannah...

She wasn't even a year old yet...

"Will-- William..." she choked out. "I-- I can't breathe..."

She knew what this was.

It had happened to her before, all throughout her life. But it hadn't been until she was treating a patient for postpartum depression that she realized that she wasn't the only one.

It didn't help her feel like any less of a burden for it.

"Julia... Julia, I need you to look at me..."

William.

She looked back up into his face.

It was amazing how much time had passed, she thought in an attempt to try to distract herself.

Sixteen years, eight of them married.

She looked into his soft, amber brown eyes, noticing the slight wrinkles around them that again reminded her of the passage of time.

"Just take a breath?" he instructed. "Just breathe..."

Julia took a deep inhale through her nose, exhaling through her mouth.

"Good... again..."

She repeated William's instructions, beginning to feel her heartbeat slowing back down. Her chest still felt tight and her stomach was still churning. As the tears that formed in her eyes finally escaped down her face, she thought that she could feel the circles forming under her eyes as she leaned against William.

His strong arms wrapped around her waist, rubbing her back soothingly with one hand and the other reaching up to stroke her hair.

"We'll figure out how to escape," he promised. "And we'll get back to Susannah."

Julia took another deep breath. "I... I hope."

No, she amended in her mind. We will.

[utanaza-ao3]

Title: that we continue to persist at all Rating: Teen and Up Fandom: Genshin Impact Relationships: Diluc/Furina, Past Furina/Neuvillette Content Warning: Implied/Referenced Psychological Trauma, Self-Loathing, Self-Hatred, Self-Doubt Word Count: 10,142 Summary: “I only ask for a man who will come to love me, just as I am, just as I will be, for the rest of the days I have left,” she pleads honestly, turning toward him. “I only ask for a man who will listen and who will see me – the real me, that I’ve hidden away all these years. I don’t want to have to pretend to be someone else for a pitiful amount of affection. I don’t want to have to pretend to be someone’s lady, someone’s wife. I just – I just want to be me, and I want someone to love that me, whatever me… it’ll be.” ~~ Yes, I did write over ten thousand words for a rare pair that only had 1 work in the tag before mine and seemed... mostly (?) unserious. What can I say? I can just see... the vision, haha. Read it here!

[emoguyventsaboutnothing]

I still sometimes wish to reach out to the actual musician that my cult leader pretended be and...just talk. I dont know if I could ever tell him about my trauma. I dont want to put that burden on him. I dont want him to think I am insane. But...just a brief exchange makes me feel like I can achieve some closure over it. I honestly dont need much. I just want to speak to the real him so my brain can create the separation between the real him, and this character the cult leader played. It would quell the questioning for good.

Context: The cult leader claimed he had a supernatural gift of being able to switch bodies with people. So that was my primary mode of "communication" with these people he pretended to be. As you can see, this sets up literally so many ways he used this to manipulate me and several other people. The cult would only have about 4 dedicated members who believed the leader in earnest. There was no name for the cult. We definitely did "psychic rituals" that would "save the world". It was extremely similar to the cult of DAYD. There was no dress code or anything. We had SOME individuality when it came to self expression, however, we could not think differently from the cult leader. We took care of our leader, almost stepping into this...parenting role. We were homeless together many times while I was still in the cult. The amount of times I have woken up to him with his hands around my throat, a knife over me, or his foot on my ribcage pressing down with all of his weight...I don't want to be in that position ever again...

[star-anise]

I really wonder if trauma theorists who say things like "Humans are the only animal that will be in a fright state when physically safe" or "the rest of the animal kingdom doesn't get PTSD" have ever, like

Do you think they've actually ever met an animal?

[whereserpentswalk]

You were born to be a sacrifice. When you first exited your mothers womb the oracles decided that would be your fate. They tattooed your hands and forehead so everyone would know.

When you turn twenty, they'll take you to the church, and they'll set you on fire. And then when your body is burned they'll give your ashes for the angels, and the angels and saints will be proud, and bless your community and family with great riches. Or at least that's what they say.

When you were young it didn't seem to mean anything that you were born to die young. Nobody cared, they just saw you as another kid. But it was always there. Adults would ask other kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, but they'd ask you what you would do once you were a ruler in the court of heaven. They'd tell other kids about marriage and sex and having children, but for you that would just be for other people, you'd die a virgin.

And at a certain age, you were removed from school. Because they said you wouldn't need it. That you shouldn't be wasting your time on such things. And you didn't understand, but you understood that all your freinds were upset that they wouldn't see you anymore. Not as much at least. And people talked about you so much differently from then on. You weren't complimented as strong, or as smart, or as ambitious, you were pretty, and pure, and brave, and dutiful. And everyone talked about how proud they were of you, how wonderful it was that you were going to die for them.

They were so nice to you. They gave you so many gifts and jewelry. You got to spend all day inside playing video games, and you got the best toys and got to go to movies and plays when you wanted to. Soldiers in power armor would bow when they saw you, and robots and cyborgs would turn off their lights. And you sat at a special place in church, and the clothing you wore was diffrent then everyone else's. And people talked about how wonderful you were, and how pretty you were, and how much they loved having you when they knew you wouldn't be on this world for long. And they were so proud of you when they showed you the platinum clothing you would wear on the day of your sacrifice. And you didn't understand why but all of the compliments sounded sad.

As you grew older things changed. The other children went through puberty, but you didn't, they gave you surgery to prevent it, ans told you how pure you were for not producing blood or seed. And you were old enough to understand that you would die, that you would burn, and it would hurt, and that nobody really knew for sure what happened after peopled died. And you saw a sacrifice, and saw the pain they were in, and there weren't any angels, there were only priests watching and chanting, and the smell of burning skin.

Your parents and family started to care much more how you behave. To make sure you're polite. To make sure you're a good sacrifice, who the angels will like. And meanwhile while all your other freinds are going to college, and talking about becoming artists, or starship pilots, or scientists, you know you'll only ever have one ending. But still, everyone loves you, and you don't have responsibilities, but still sometimes you think about how much diffrent life would be if you were born differently.

You've started meeting people who've left the faith, or people who didn't grow up in it, people who believe in diffrent religions or in no religion at all. And your heaven seems less and less certain every day. According to imperial law you're allowed to be sacrificed, but if you choose not to they can't force you. But if you choose not to you can never be a part of your faith again, and your family will be disappointed in you forever. All your family and community, everyone who you ever knew, will consider you a failure, a coward doomed to hell for not going through with what the cosmos planned for you. And all that pride and joy they felt about your fate would be replaced with anger that you never became what they were so happy and proud about you being. You don't think you believe in heaven anymore, but you still might choose to die, if it means they're proud... it's what you're raised to do, you don't know who you'll be if you choose to leave.

Better choose fast darling, it's only a few months away now. You don't want them to be upset.

[spoonie-support]

[jinxedshapeshifter]

did. did kristoph gaslight apollo.

i'm not entirely saying this because i'm researching gaslighting and it feels like it fits kristoph and apollo's dynamic in turnabout trump. arguably it's in the text. was it entirely successful? for a time. but looking through the transcript for turnabout trump i'm like "huh. it feels an awful lot like kristoph is gaslighting apollo to get him to start doubting phoenix."

i have to wonder if that's the only time kristoph ever tried to gaslight apollo. i mean, i seriously doubt it personally considering the kind of person kristoph is but regardless.

this explains even more of apollo's behavior in dual destinies too, i think. last time one of his coworkers was accused of murder, he was manipulated and gaslit into thinking it couldn't possibly be true. in turnabout for tomorrow, he's being told athena couldn't possibly be the culprit. he even directly says that he can't fully trust athena with the way things are going in the trial. i would not be surprised if he was thinking back to his first trial and kristoph's manipulation and used "evidence is everything" as a failsafe so he wouldn't be manipulated or gaslit again. it also makes the parallel to kristoph when he does say evidence is everything really really interesting. kristoph used it to manipulate people. apollo's using it to avoid getting manipulated (again).

this is not the first time i've talked about apollo and kristoph's dynamic and how it affected apollo in dual destinies. i have mentioned before that apollo having trauma from kristoph being arrested and imprisoned for murder probably affected his treatment of athena in dual destinies. what i did not bring up is how kristoph's manipulation might've played into it, because i didn't really realize how much kristoph tried to manipulate apollo to avoid being found out as the culprit of shadi's murder.

i also think it's worth mentioning that we do know kristoph was willing to win trials by any means necessary. is it really a stretch to assume he presented some suspicious evidence during court and gaslit or manipulated apollo into not questioning it? on that note, i wonder if he did the same to klavier. we know kristoph is emotionally abusive to klavier. would he really be above gaslighting his employees on a regular basis? (no. no he wouldn't)

[lilacxquartz]

i hope karma comes bite you back with what you write ^_^

been there, done that sorry anon 💔

but let’s talk about how ironic it is that you supposedly disagree with the act, yet you’re wishing it upon someone else.

i keep seeing this on my feed as well, like, how can anyone sending these claim to be against rape culture if they’re wishing for someone to get that done to them?

“oh i disagree with what you write about, i hope the same happens to you!” — see how silly that sounds?

make it make sense

[ak-harper-loves-fiction]

"After he cooled down from his fit of rage, he acted like my best friend. I forgave him. Somehow, I forgave him."

-A.K. Harper

[hisenemy]

Spiritualism is the death of the ego, not the projection of it.

Ego is a deep dark void that’s lonely and cold.

Narcs are a great example of ego dependent blackholes of people.

Acceptance and stability.

[darkgodcomplex]

The Lord’s Child

Wally X Reader

CW: ABUSE, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, YANDERE, RELIGIOUS GUILT, NON CONSENSUAL TOUCHING

AO3 Link

Here’s the story:

Your hands clasp in prayer as the congregation around you mutters a collective "amen" and starts to shuffle out. Despite the service ending, you don't budge from your pew, continuing to kneel as people pass by until the church is empty.

Well, almost empty.

Still dressed in his priest attire, Wally watches you silently for a moment, wondering what on earth you would want to pray for when you’re already perfect.

He approaches and you’re startled by his voice as he speaks, “Why are you kneeling, child?”

You turn your head, looking up at him. Your sweet, innocent eyes look up at him.

You blink at him, “I-I was just praying, Father.”

He smiles, “You’re the picture of godliness, my child.” He reaches down, index finger hooking under your chin and tugging it up higher as his thumb ghosts over your soft cheek, gently petting you. “I can tell your heart is pure.”

“How can you tell?” You almost demand, voice desperate for his praise. He nearly trembles from the tone. There’s nothing he loves more than the world breaking you down and him picking up all the pieces.

Wally kneels down next to you, clasping your hands in his own. “I can feel you.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. The two of you are so close now that he can feel your hot breath on his neck and hear your heart beat in your chest.

He leans even closer, lips close to brushing your ear, and you flinch away. Wally smiles.

That. That is what made you pure. The way you’re so desperately wanting his affection yet also so afraid of it.

Wally pulls back, keeping his cool. “What did you come to pray for today, my child?”

Your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red as you look away. “It’s nothing.

“My dear, don’t go lying to a priest.” Wally pushes.

Your cheeks turn even redder as you shrink into yourself. You very clearly don’t want to tell him, which makes him want to know even more.

“Father, it’s just stupid troubles-“

“I want to know.” He puts the pressure on you by waiting in silence.

“It’s just…”

Wally watches you intensely, head tilted to the side as he waits for you to explain.

“I just…” You fidget nervously. “I don’t fit in anywhere.”

Wally can’t help but grin. “Of course you don’t fit in anywhere.” His tone is sweet but his words are cruel. “You’re too pure. The world outside will never accept you.”

Your lower lip begins to tremble and the sweet, guiltless eyes he loves begin to tear up.

“But that’s okay.” Just as he’s cruel, he’s sweet. “You belong with the church. You belong with me.”

Wally runs his hand over your cheek. As tears fall, he doesn’t wipe them away. Instead, he presses his thumb against them, dragging the wetness down your cheek.

“You don’t have to cry.” Wally whispers. “I know you need me. I know you want me. This is all god’s plan.”

This doesn’t stop the gentle flow of tears down your cheeks. That’s okay though. He’ll take you broken.

As he comforts you, Wally slowly gets closer and closer, hand sliding up your thigh to massage circles into the muscle and hot breath trickling over your neck.

You freeze, slowly beginning to realize what’s happening. Took you long enough.

His mouth attaches to your neck, at first sucking and then biting. He can feel you start to tremble beneath him and he pulls away, pressing gentle kisses to where he drew blood and touching you with soft hands.

“Do not be afraid.” He presses another kiss to your wound. “This is what faith is, loving other people. God blessed us with the ability to give and receive love.”

Wally brings his lips up to your ear, wiping blood on it as he kisses it. “I love you, my child.”

“I-I-“ Your terrified voice speaks up, a surprise to him. Your timidness had always been to his advantage.

“I don’t want this!” You shove Wally off of you, scrambling back.

Wally lands back on the pew, nearly hitting his head in your sudden struggle. He blinks at you.

“By rejecting my love you’re rejecting the lord.” Wally spits. “Nobody loves you except me. Nobody could ever love you except me. You’ll go right back to not belonging.” Wally’s breathing is heavy as he finishes.

You start to cry again, “No, I don’t reject the lord.” The years of religious guilt he’s built up in you is paying off.

Wally sighs, “Then let me love you. Stop this nonsense and come here.” He points in front of him.

Slowly, you crawl over to him and he heaves you into his lap. You bury your face in his neck, still sobbing as he rubs your back.

“You belong to god and so you belong to me.” Wally says sternly. “Listen to the lord and you will set yourself free, my dear.”

You nod into his neck and he grasps you tighter.

God is not in this church.

[emoguyventsaboutnothing]

You know your mental health is on a decline again when you think back to a time you were in a cult and was brainwashed by someone into believing a famous musician was your parent and you see a screenshot of a picture from inside said musician's childhood home and think...what if...? I swear I have been there before!

No you haven't. I haven't. I am just making up fake memories again. This only happens when things feel hopeless in the world. I mean...the cult leader promised we were saving the world. In esoteric ways that I prefer not to go into detail about...

Like my wife said earlier today, "Life is a big bag of dicks". But compassion fatigue is setting in.

The escapist fantasy of your parent being a world famous rockstar seemed like fun at first, until it came to all the times the cult leader had to make the parent out to be abusive and neglectful to keep cover up and make excuses as to why said parent could never come visit or make at least a phone call or video call. At least my ACTUAL dad is coming to visit me for my birthday next month. Maybe I just need that time with my dad again. Why the actual fuck am I making vent posts about this when I am pushing 30?

Maybe because my wife is going through a phase where she is dressing exactly like this said musician, listening to the same bands said musician loves, reading all the comics said musician loves and even wrote, wearing the same makeup as said musician...even got the same belt buckle. It brings me back to those five years I spent wasting time in a delusional state...in a cult...where I was physically, verbally and emotionally abused...nearly killed...many times...

I want to love that band again so bad.

The Ben Nye and Gash, the daggers and bats...

I wish I could have my late teens/early 20s back.

[starleska]

Omg I've been wanting to ask you if you've seen Heretic! I became obsessed as soon as I saw it, recommending it to all my friends like a missionary 😅 I've seen it twice and it gives you so much to think about; the three main performances are brilliant, the story is unpredictable and the psychological horror is so well done! Sister Paxton is also one of my new favourite characters from anything; I just think she's wonderful. I have so many thoughts I should probably make my own post b/c I could go on and on 😅

On a more superficial note, I must ask... Do you have a crush on Mr Reed? (Should I be embarrassed to admit that it's the first time I've ever found Hugh Grant hot, after a lifetime of having no opinion on him and barely registering his presence in films? I feel like I've finally awoken)

hell YEAHHHH all the love for Heretic, i was completely blown away!!!! what a masterpiece of a movie, holy shit - i couldn't agree with you more. Hugh Grant, Sophie Thatcher AND Chloe East all gave such tremendous performances - those first thirty minutes were some of the most tense and uncomfortable exchanges i've ever seen!!! so tightly written and had as many twists and turns as Mr Reed's fortress-like home...you keep on recommending this movie to everyone, i certainly will be too 🙈💖 BEFORE I GO INTO SPOILERS AND HEAVY RELIGIOUS/ATHEISTIC/PERSONAL DISCUSSION UNDER THE CUT: although i am not presently blorboing Mr Reed, my partner is down so astronomically bad i thought they were going to explode in the theatre 😂💖 i totally understand where y'all are coming from, and if spreading the 'gorgeous old man Hugh Grant appeals to your religious trauma and daddy kinks at the same time' propaganda, then so be it!!! here, hot grandpa be upon ye!! (come back to me in 3-5 business days, maybe my opinion will have evolved 😉)

so for context: when i was a child, like. ages 7-14, i was a militant atheist. i was raised in a very lax Christian household, but i fell down the rabbit hole of Richard Dawkins-esque 'reasonable' takes on religion via books and online circles that i equated with being intellectually superior. in retrospect i'm horrified by what a nasty, ignorant person it made me, and am very lucky to have had good religious figures in my life to gently ease me out of that (ironically) cult-like mentality. i'd argue that atheism, theism, theological debates and scientific ideas about the nature of reality constituted a special interest for me for a good chunk of my life...so this movie really scratched a long-forgotten itch 🙈🙈🙈 the thing about Heretic was how equal its messaging was. going in, you'd assume Mr Reed could've been some spurned apostate punishing missionaries for daring to have unshaken, unproven faith. but instead, we see something else: Mr Reed, Sister Barnes and Sister Paxton battling and even collaborating in trying to discover the truth of their respective (including lack of) faiths. that final scene with Sister Paxton hallucinating the butterfly rammed it home: does it really matter whether religion is correct or not? isn't it enough that faith provides comfort and meaning, even if we're wrong when we leave this mortal coil? i think as an ex-militant atheist i find Mr Reed horribly relatable. the way he made himself into this self-styled god by deeming 'control' to be the structure of all religion and using it to act on his own selfish desires reminds me so much of the figureheads of the atheism movement...i know that Heretic was in part inspired by Contact (1997), based on the book by Carl Sagan, which explores the implications for humanity if we made contact with extraterrestial life. the scientific language which people in the atheism community used to dress up intolerance and personal biases is just as flawed as the religion they were criticising. Mr Reed dazzles as an "intellectual", but he's no more informed than either of the Sisters. the way this movie skilfully portrays all parties as reasonable, informed, relatable people all trying to seek meaning is magnificent. it would have been so easy to make either side into a scapegoat: to make an anti-religious movie, or an anti-atheism movie, or even to turn around and call us all idiots for thinking about religion, but it doesn't. it leaves us with this off-kilter but honest message: we don't know, and that's okay, as long as it matters to you. that's why i agree with you on Sister Paxton being such an amazing character: regardless of Mr Reed's theories (or hypotheses 😉) he was unable to subjugate her. what a fucking champ

[spoonie-support]

I assure you the trauma is not all in your head. it's also in your heart, your nerves, and your stomach. It is in your trembling hands, your uneven breathing, your vision is suddenly gets blurry. It's not just your head that went through the thing. every cell in your body was there

[thechthonicherbalist]

The Price of Necromancy Or: What it means to be a Chthonic Survivor

Sometimes things die within us. A slow, terrible, agonizing death That surely nobody can witness or Survive with their souls still intact.

And sometimes things stay dead. You bring them back alive. Once, twice. A dozen times, if you are both so Unfortunate and lucky. But there is a reason they are terrified Of our likes, my friend. They know our trade comes with a price. A horrible price nobody is willing to pay. And so you raise yourself back up From the knives to your back The arrow to your heart and The heavy axe to your head. But sometimes things stay dead. And you can't quite walk like you used to Your heart decays, beating in your chest And your mind remains broken Even if you do your best to be one of the living. You cannot be alive like them, doomed to survive. Eternally broken, by who has left you for dead. You can never be how you were. Whole. Happy. This is what they are scared of. The sacrifice they see in the Undead. That is the cost of Necromancy; The Art Of surviving what none was meant to survive.

.-⊱⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰-. Trigger Warnings: Mentions of committing oneself to Death (su/c/de) .-⊱⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰-. Today it was a year ago I asked for help because something wrong was happening unseen. Something overwhelming. 47 days later, things had gotten so much worse, I tried to commit myself to death. It did not end there. Not for months. I didn't think I'd make it out alive and I tried so often to leave or resolve at least. I was alone with it. I still fall back into these days and try to survive them, over and over. In my nightmares. In my thoughts, when I just sit and daydream. I don't have control over it. It has taken over the space where creativity, passion, sexuality, safety used to live in my head. It is a relapse into complex PTSD, an old thing with fresh horrors. It is terrifying. All of it. The before and during and after. The months that followed were so bad, I wished I hadn't lived. I hadn't needed another experience like that in my life. And yet I stayed. For hope. For love. For trust. And out of fear. But not for hate and vengeance or curses. I could have spared myself so much. But the important thing is, I made it out alive. And I'm with people now, who are glad I did. Actually glad. Without hating or hurting or fearing me for it. And I remember that an eternity ago, I survived out of sheer spite. That I turned Death defiance into a power that was no longer reserved for gods with my bare hands as a child.

[goldenbituin]

Taking the gaming world by storm

(They were both introduced in 2024!)