#TW: Implied PTSD

[bleper]

Four's turn at last

Tw: implied ptsd

The fierce heat from the forge blasted against his face, the heavy weight of the hammer in his hand reassuring as he beat into the metal on his anvil. The clang of the metal ringing out and the crackle of the fire slowly burning down drowned out the sounds of the voices in his head, yelling at each other and at him for making a minor mistake. He couldn't disappoint his grandpa, he needed to do better, for it to be perfect. He would never accept anything less. He remembers Ezlo always having a quick word to say when someone did something, he remembers the colors constant bickering and vibrant personalities, he remembers Shadow and the scream of pain he made when he shattered the mirror, he remembers Vaati cackling when he first kidnapped the princess. Another swing. Is it a hammer or a sword in his hand? The heat of the forge or of the dragon in the fire temple? Is he screaming or is it the colors in his head telling him to get ahold of himself? When did he fall on the floor and why can't he get up? Maybe he could just lay here for a while, he'd done so much for Hyrule, he deserved to rest. The world shouldn't spin when you're laying on the floor. Did his head always hurt this much or did it get worse when his hammer fell? Was it even ever really in his hands?

[konoa-t]

As anticipated, here's some random tidbits about Ackley and Oron, the two silliest and goodest boys in my fan OC arsenal :D The info here isn't in any particular order (°▽°)/

There's gonna be a bit of text, so I'm putting it behind a cut. Enjoy! And thank you again to everyone who showed interest in these two!

[TW: SENSITIVE CONTENT (see tags)]

Ackley:

Ackley is the cool-headed mercenary of the colony, hired to fight alongside them or run recon and gather intel. He joined their ranks not because of pay, but because both he and the other knights he works with share the same goal: to get rid of those annoying little dark essence creatures.

A while back, Ackley had a bit of a violent run-in with a man named Metus. He was travelling through a planet when he got captured by Metus' subordinates and brought to his lair. Metus had known of Ackley's exploits and how much of an effective warrior he was, especially with the help of those interesting wings of his... He gave Ackley an ultimatum: either join him (which would most likely require him to kill off his own kind), or suffer the consequences. Ackley wasn't interested. And so, off goes the ends of his wings (sawn off roughly at the wrist joint). The whole ordeal made his wings go mostly numb from nerve damage, as well as giving him occasional phantom pains. Injured and on the verge of passing out, Ackley manages to escape and bumps into the colony. They patch him up and help him recover from his injuries, giving him medicine for the pain. Though he was too exhausted to speak, Ackley thanked them from the bottom of his heart, and vowed to crush Metus for what he had done to him. When he was offered a job with the colony, he accepted it almost immediately. Not only would this help him pay back his debt to them (/m), but it would also help offer him a straight line to Metus.

Whether its to cope with the trauma of his past or for some other reason, Ackley will occasionally light a cigarette to take the edge off. (I did make him smoke cuz I thought that it would be funny, but now I'm trying to fit it in with the plot). He doesn't like the taste of plain tobacco though, so he usually buys flavored ones.

He will often (jokingly) flirt with people he knows well (the vibes of it are kinda sorta like the whole "kiss the homies goodnight" thing).

Ackley has a habit of not taking things very seriously. He often treats battle as some sort of game and make jokes of things, even if its serious. (Though, if its serious enough [like murder], he wont be as likely to make light of it).

He had once looked at a portrait of Oron. He thought that he looked handsome. (the portrait had somehow come up in a conversation he was having with one of the colony's members. The colony member took him to Oron's memorial where the portrait was being kept.)

A pastime of his is stargazing!

Oron:

Oron is the chivalrous and kind-hearted elite knight who served directly under Empress Vita alongside Yumi (they were, in some aspects, like retainers). Many knights often looked up to him, sometimes referring to him as a "fairytale knight*" due to his strict following to the guidelines of chivalry and exemplary behavior both on and off of the battlefield. Civilian women within the colony also took quite a liking to Oron due to this fact, often sending him gifts or flowers (mostly as platonic tokens of appreciation, though some women would send him gifts to try and woo him).

He had died during the events of The Great Raid, and now his soul roams the Azure Plane**.

To elaborate on the previous point, he had perished while he was defending the Empress from the corrupt invaders storming the palace. One of the creatures had gotten a pretty good hit on him, leaving a large gash in his side. He ultimately died of blood loss. (Fortunately his death wasn't in vain! The Empress was saved and unhurt thanks to his efforts!)

A small statue of Oron (that serves as a monument) lies on Draconis, the planet the colony currently lives on.

Oron has golden retriever energy! He is a very happy and pleasant person in general. He also gets easily excited about things. Many people have noted him as having some kind of "sunshiny aura."

When Oron talks or writes, he almost never uses contractions. There isn't any real known reason for this; it just seems to be a little quirk of his.

He often roams around the Azure Plane aimlessly, looking for opportunities to keep his sword skills sharp (he often practices on trees) or for other things to do to pass the time. Occasionally, an entity known as Mors will appear and speak with him for a while; he always enjoys her company!

One time, Oron was allowed to peek into the living world. He was surprised to see that the landscape had changed drastically. When he asked Mors about it, she stated that his home planet had been destroyed, and that the planet he was now looking at was Draconis. After that, Oron went silent for several days, almost as if he were in a state of mourning.

*Historically, knights did not always follow all the tenets of chivalry, often assaulting peasant women and rich widows as well as abusing their status and power as a knight. That being said, Oron is referred to by this name due to his almost unrealistically ideal nature as a warrior. In other words, he acts just like how a "proper" knight would act, or how knights in fairy tales or other fictional stories/legends would behave.

**The Azure Plane is a place that I can only describe as limbo. It is a hazy, plains-like environment that is devoid of any (intact) structures. Souls who still have unfinished business or unfulfilled wishes are normally transported here. Until their problems are dealt with, they remain in this desolate area, sometimes being driven mad by the isolation.

BONUS INFO!! :DD

Many people in the colony have mixed feelings on Ackley's smoking habit. They're glad that he doesn't do it very often (it takes him like a week to finish a pack; dontcha wish all smokers could be like that? /hj), but they are still very much concerned for his health. Ackley insists that he is fine, but they have their doubts...

Although beings sent to the Azure Plane are often isolated, this isn't to say there isn't ANYONE else around. The Plane is vast; spirits sent here are normally scattered about. It may take a while, but you could potentially run into other souls there.

Time does not pass in the Azure Plane. It is always midday.

Oron has no idea who Ackley is, but I think he would like him :D

Both Ackley and Oron have recurring nightmares about their respective traumatic incidents. :((

[to0needy]

not being able to kill myself is the worst feeling

[bpdmaxxer]

“But he was just a child”

So was I

And I’m suffering and he’s not

[jirai-dirt-2009]

It’s so funny how “I can help you heal” turns into “you’re so selfish!”

Oh no! You didn’t get a boost to your little ego! How terrible of me to act like an ill person despite how you gave me empty promises and false hope! I’ll go jump now!

[youwillleaveme]

i shouldve di3d years ago and i like to settle with the thought that therefore nothing matters anymore

i wouldnt care if i was gone and i dont care that im still here.

its kind of nihilistic but also freeing

[uhhhj13iguess]

Could you write a Peter Parker story in witch reader has trauma from r4pe from past and while they were having a movie night a scene from movie triggered the memory of it, but Peter comforts them and it's just full of fluff? I would really appreciate it.

sorry this took so long, i rewrote it like a million times lol. thank you for writing me a request, i loved it! everyone please send more!!

let me be near you

peter parker x gn!reader

wc: 0.9k

cw: references to SA scene playing out on tv, reader has flashbacks and a panic attack, but nothing is talked about in detail. peter is a sweetheart the entire time

masterlist and taglist!

peter immediately felt your energy shift.

he looked down to see you staring into the distance, eyes wondering and watery. he noticed as you shrank smaller, hands pulled to your chest as you unconsciously picked at your nail beds, the skin raw and bloody from the action.

he reached out for your hands without a second thought. "hey,"

you twitched slightly, his touch bringing you back to the present as you looked up at him, staccato inhales raking your chest.

peter had never seen you like this. his heart broke as your eyes darted off again, your body stiffening as you forced yourself to look back at the screen. you couldn't do this right now, not in front of peter.

as the scene played out, a heavy sense of dread blanketed your senses, a suffocating weight on your chest as you couldn't stop your mind from wandering. you pleaded, downright bargaining with your brain as the flashbacks forced their way to the forefront, violent images flooding your thoughts. you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, doing what you could to steady your breathing.

peter brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. "hey, are you alright?"

you nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to disappear and not embarrass yourself further. you stared back at the TV, jaw clenched tight, "yeah, fine."

just be normal.

you're right here. it's just a show. you're safe.

you flinched as peter spoke your name, your vision beginning to tunnel. you felt your heart rate pick up, increasing exponentially until you were convinced it was going to burst out of your chest. you stood quickly, the action dropping your stomach and sending a wave of impending doom throughout your entire body. your knees buckled, and peter's hands flew up to stabilize you.

"'m fine," you slurred out. with shaky steps, you gathered all your strength to head down the hall, incoherently mumbling about 'needing to go to the bathroom quick'. peter watched you run out of sight and a rock formed in his stomach.

as he stood to follow you, a scream from the TV caught his attention.

"no, please! stop!" the woman's voice burned in his ears. he turned towards the criminal minds episode on the screen.

peter watched intently as the scene played out before him. with each act of violence, each scream, he slowly put the pieces together, and a range of emotions flooded his system.

he was horrified. when you'd been flipping through channels earlier with him, neither of you expected this would be what would come on. he felt uneasy himself, but your response was different. it was reactionary, visceral in nature. and as he put together why, he felt scared like he'd never been before.

he was heartbroken, the thought of you having been hurt so badly. the pain in his chest was physical as he watched the assault unfold on the screen and pictured you. how scared you must have felt. how hurt you must have been.

he was angrier than he'd ever been before. peter saw red as he thought about it, yearning for blood on his hands from whoever had done this to you. he hadn't felt this way since uncle ben.

peter shook himself out of it, hearing the bathroom door shut. he bounded down the hall and called out your name, a crack in his voice as he choked down a sob. he reached the door, softly knocking against the wood.

"sweetheart? can i come in?" peter was met with sniffles, and the pain in his chest radiated.

"honey, please. we don't have to talk, just... please. let me be near you," he pleaded.

on the other side, you let out a heavy sigh, crawling out from the ball you'd formed on the bathroom floor. standing with all your strength, you didn't dare look at yourself in the mirror as you reached for the handle. you pulled slowly, meeting peter's gaze with a pit of shame in your stomach.

his shoulders relaxed as soon as he had you in his sight again. "hey, honey."

you looked down at your feet. "i'm sorry, that was a lot over nothing."

peter took a step towards you, a cautious hand reaching out to graze your arm. "hey,"

you looked up to meet his eyes again. "none of that."

you took a deep breath, your nervous system beginning to slow down again in peter's presence. you slowly moved forward and looped your arms around his waist loosely, a limp hug all you had in you as a response. he reciprocated it immediately.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shook your head against his chest. "not right now."

peter nodded and pulled back from the hug, a hand slipping down to intertwine his fingers with yours. "why don't we go lie in bed, bug?"

you whispered out a soft 'okay' as you followed him to the bedroom, climbing into the bed and clinging to peter's side tightly. he wrapped you in his arms, peppering your face in light kisses that tickled your skin. he felt himself relax as he heard your soft laugh, and he vowed to himself he'd do anything it took to keep you safe and happy.

[pineconepie]

Hello! I love your stories! What if the reader came back to Cullen and August with severe PTSD and trauma? For example, how would they handle a reader who hates to be touched in any way due to their trauma or if the reader cannot handle loud noises like yelling? Would they force the reader to still have cuddles with them or would they give them space?

I got a few similar asks to this, so I'll just answer them all with this one!

They'd both handle it pretty differently, but the biggest similarity is they'd both really be trying their hardest.

Cullen would be better at understanding your boundaries, and would gently remind August to give you more space, even though he wants to hold you just as much as his husband.

Where he'd struggle, is yelling. Typically he's an overall easy-going guy, but I think his worry for you would cause his stress to skyrocket sometimes, and he'd lash out when you flinch from him or refuse to eat.

It's not something he'd do to hurt you, and he'd always feel beyond guilty about it each time.

"Dammit, don't look at me like I'm gonna hit you! I'd never, why can't you get that through your head?! Do you know how much it hurts to see your kid, who you love more than anything, looking at you as if you're a monster?!?" *pause* "Wait, no, no, sweetie, I'm sorry--"

Meanwhile, August would be best in terms of calming Cullen down and reacting to your panic attacks, and any other trauma-related issue that may happen, but of course he'd still be extremely overbearing.

He'd cry and unintentionally make you feel guilty each time you look at him in fear, hide from him, flinch from him, etc. He'd basically break down each time, but would always speak gently to you regardless.

His biggest struggle would come in terms of respecting your boundaries. He'd constantly be trying to hold you, kiss your forehead, pet your hair, anything.

And each time, he'd act heartbroken if you express not wanting that.

I think he'd never force cuddles, but he would plead and continue unintentionally manipulating you.

"Please, I just want to hold my baby again... it's been so long since I've gotten to. You're breaking your Papa's heart..."

[it-never-gets-better]

MY BODY TURNED INTO A CORPSE WHEN YOU TOUCHED IT VIOLENTLY.

[k-y-g]

I used to be strongest at night,

until you took from me.

now I'm lost in endless shadow,

a personal hell you created and abandoned me in.

look at me.

suffocating as tar coats my throat, obsidian and insidious

hands clawing over the raw, gaping cavity of my rib cage

a wall of tears fall from petrified eyes perpetually forced open against grit and hurricanes

as realisation and horror dawns again and again and again.

and all I can do is remember.

my final breath in is agony, broken shards of shattered mirrors slicing my lungs

and my scream is a cough, blood and acid falling from my ulcerated mouth

the empty laugh of a thankless god echoes as my heart finally stops.

just for it to begin again. and again. and again.

flashbacks. // k-y-g

[bpdmaxxer]

I might not remember but my body does

[weirdcoregal35]

“Fever Dreams”

(THIS ONE, IM PROUD OF! TW AHEAD FOR OIL, BODY HORROR, SH IMPLIED AND KINDA USED, PTSD, TRAUMA, SOLRUIN, AND OTHER THINGS!! PLEASE REBLOG THIS, IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS 😭)

@timberiswooding

@bloodyrockseverywhere

@xeviersnow

@lednet-sorrow-au-blog

@dolce-cerise

@grafitysart

@tincan-fandomfreak

@noinoi10101010

@zeepuu

 Solar sighs as he lays down next to his already sleeping partner, Ruin. For once, he was trying to sleep. Though it could take him a while, considering what took place yesterday…but, he didn’t want to think about that. For now, he just wanted to have one normal night of sleep. One. Normal. Night. Solar closes his eyes, wrapping some of the blanket around him.

  ~~~

  Solar looks around at what seems to be a small forest. It was familiar. He looked down at his pajamas, only to be met with his beige long sleeved shirt and brown overalls. “Oh god, not again”, Solar thought to himself as he stood up. He wanders around the forest, taking in his surroundings. 

  The trees were half rotting, with the leaves a dark green that didn’t even classify as a green. Brown and red mushrooms were sprouting all around him, from small to fist sized mushrooms. The grass was dried up. The pathways were rough and rigid, meaning that one wrong step could leave someone in a hospital bed. Solar looks ahead of him, the forest growing more and more darker. “No turning back now”, he supposed.

  So far, nothing was that wrong about the forest. Nothing Solar couldn’t handle. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched…

  Solar continues to walk, a neutral expression remaining on his face. He goes on with walking, till he feels something on his boots. He looks down, and to his horror, it was splattered oil. He steps back, his face immediately becoming a mix of nervous and terrified. He looks up, only to see a familiar face. One he wishes he wouldn’t have to see in a while…Jack.

  Jack was covering in his own oil, his pants torn. His left arm was completely torn off. His faceplate was cracked beyond repair, yet he had a wicked smile on his face. Jack’s eyes were a dark hue of purple. His claws were sharp, covered in oil as well. This wasn’t the Jack that Solar knew. No, it was something entirely different. Something not even remotely close to Jack. And yet…Solar couldn’t help and be upset over it…

  The Jack tilts his head, making a gory cracking noise as if was snapping it’s own neck. “FATHER!! So nice to see you again!! The Jack exclaimed, trying to imitate the “real Jack”. His voice box was choppy and staticky. 

  Solar didn’t respond to the Jack. Instead, he backed away slowly, trying to be subtle. But of course…Jack had to notice.

  “Where are you going, father-“

  “You’re not Jack.” Solar snapped. “You’re just a clone and nothing more.”

  The Jack pauses, his smile falling a bit, before returning back to its original, sinister look. Solar pauses, sighing.

  “You. Are nothing but scrap metal. You’re not him, AND YOU NEVER WILL BE-“

  “Bold of a KILLER to say such rude words.” Jack responds, slowly walking over to where Solar is.

  Solar immediately pauses. He looks down, now realizing he’s in his factory uniform. “Shit…” Solar thought to himself. He immediately makes a run for it once he realizes Jack is approaching him.

  Solar runs. Likes he’s never done before. His coat got caught on a few of the beaches, but he couldn’t stop at this point.  He refuses. He runs from his demons often, so it’s nothing new to him. He runs, and runs, not looking back once. Though, he runs into an issue when he trips over a large rock. Damn nature…

  Solar attempts to get up, but alas, no use. He twisted his ankle ln the way down. He looks around, trying to find anything at all to defend himself with. Nothing. Crackles of leaves could be heard behind him. He slowly looks behind him, only to see “Jack”…but…something had happened to him…

  “Jack”‘s arms and legs were extended, his fingers twisted. He took tall compared to Solar. Solar immediately tries to scoot away from him, but it’s no use. He’s stuck here. 

  “S-Stay away…” Solar pleaded, still trying to find a way to escape. The creature just laughed at him. “LOOK AT YOU NOW!! ALONE, SCARED, AND PLEADING FOR YOUR LIFE!!” “Jack” mocked, still laughing at him. 

  Solar’s breath gets raggedy. He’s panicking, he’s afraid. “If this is about those…”people” I killed…I swear to you, IT WAS ALL ON IMPULSE! I SWEAR I DIDNT MEAN-“

  “Save it.” Jack hissed. He bend down to Solar’s level, still smiling. “How does it feel to finally be the one not in control of the situation? Scary, isn’t it?”

  Solar pauses. “Jack, I-“

  “N O T  E V E N  C U T T I N G  Y O U R  O W N  A R M S  W I L L  B E  E N O U G H  F O R  Y O U   T O  A P O L G I Z E  F O R  T H E   D A M A G E  Y O U  H A V E  C A U S E D. Y O U R  S I N S  A R E  U N F O R G I V A B L E.”

  Solar…couldn’t even respond to Jack. He was right. Jack held out one of his rusty dagger hands, walking closer to Solar. “Maybe do us all a favor…” Jack muttered, holding the rusted dagger hand to Solar’s chest. “…AND DROP D E A D!!” And with that, Jack stabbed Solar.

  Solar coughs, oil leaking down his mouth. Jack drops him, that same sinister smile on his face. Everything goes black…

  ~~~

  Solar jolts up awake, his face already soaked with his own tears. He holds himself, softly crying to himself, scratching his arm in an attempt to calm down. Ruin shortly wakes up, confused and half asleep.

  “Huh? Darling, what happened?? Are we being robbed?” Ruin questioned, still being slightly groggy. He immediately perks up once he sees the current state that Solar is in. 

  “DARLING!! WHAT HAPPENED?!” Ruin asked in a worried tone.

  “I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…” Solar weeps, hiding his face. Ruin sighs once he realizes what happened. It was a nightmare. Ruin honestly expected this to happen. Ruin pulls Solar close to him, holding him in a tight embrace as he softly rubs one of Solar’s rays. “It’s okay darling…I’ve got you…” Ruin whispers.

  Slowly, Solar’s crying died down. He just laid into Ruin’s hug, finally feeling like he could fall asleep again. Ruin smiles at this. He lays back down, still holding Solar in his arms. Ruin kisses Solar’s forehead. “Better?” Ruin asked. Solar simply nods, falling back asleep. They both fall asleep shortly after, both of them holding each other in a sweet embrace.

[venusplutoangels]

I’ve been wanting to paint this in the style of Tracey Emin for years and I finally drew it on my iPad on procreate. I can’t wait until I’m able to paint this on a canvas. This is about how I’ve only ever felt pretty while having my trauma re-enacted through rough and degrading sex with a partner who did not give a fuck about my well-being. I broke my own heart each time that I recreated my sexual abuse but I also laid it out on a silver platter for the predator to devour it as well. This was a partnered effort that made me feel at home during the act and torn with shame and self disgust afterwards. This piece is the visual representation of sex used as self harm. I know that many victims of csa/sa who have acted out in both sexual and self destructive ways because of what we suffered before. I make this art for many survivors who can relate but also for the survivors who have too much shame to speak out about it. The world has shunned us enough for something that was out of our control so please have compassion and grace towards yourself. Love, Grace <3

[moderncassandra]

I trusted him I trusted him I trusted him I trusted him I trusted him I trusted him I trusted him I FUCKING TRUSTED HIM

[it-never-gets-better]

NO ONE GETS IT. NO ONE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS LIVING IN THIS BODY.

[survivor-talking]

I wish the world would stop so I could recover and move on. If only I could go back in time and avoid so many things. But no one is going to give me back what I lost, no one is going to give me back what was taken from me. I want the world to have compassion for me, and at the same time, I want it to tear me apart once and for all and disappear. I feel lost, broken, dirty.

But the world goes on, and I have to deal with someone else's shit and my own. My body moves, but my mind is stuck in painful moments. What's next for me? I see him in the shadows, I feel his presence walking down the street, I feel his gaze at work, I hear his voice in people who aren't him. I want to rip out my brain, my eyes, my skin, my ears. To not remember, to stop running, to die.