#layers of trauma

[sagewhite]

The Strays on Netflix was very good.. One of my favorites. I wish I could talk about it but I don't know how properly to explain being the product of a second unhappy marriage that was subsequently abandoned when it was through. To know of my half-siblings that were abandoned. To be victimized and traumatized until you begin to emulate that enviornment yourself. When the normal life you wanted is uncomfortable because you feel like an animal playing dress up around the pretty-folk. To be so demonized by your own color and to be agitated by your own reflection. The guilt and the weight of not knowing a better way.

[naehilisms]

something something three high guardsmen and a mentally unwell emo kid walk into an abandoned energon depot

inspired by this and this

[bonerot19]

I know we like writing fics where Jason is all "I'm not the kid you lost" and "he died and I'm all the worst parts of him that came back" and whatever. but lately I've been thinking about a Jason that's angry bc everyone thinks he came back wrong, because to him, he's the same as he's always been. sure, he's more upset and angry and traumatized, but he's still Jason.

I've been thinking about a Jason that spent most of the time since his death underground and then catatonic. to him, hardly any time has passed at all. to his family, three years have gone by. and Jason knows he looks different than he did, and he knows he's sharper around the edges, now, but he's still Jason. he's the same kid that died and now he's back and why doesn't anyone see that?

they're the ones that changed, not him

[clairenatural]

okay but you see sam has ALSO fallen for dean's act. sam also believes dean to be the macho, daddy's soldier, beer boobs cars guy he presents himself as. this is why sam makes fun of dean whenever he even lightly steps out of that mold and thinks it's harmless banter instead of attacking an insecurity. it's why he laughs when john talks down to dean in the early seasons and it's why he seems surprised when dean is more comfortable with himself in the later seasons. it's why he just scoffs but doesn't push it when dean puts up a front and refuses to talk about his emotions and just accepts whatever excuse he makes at face value. it's why he offers dean a strip club to make him feel better when cas dies. and this isn't his fault!! dean has spent a very long time perfecting this image in front of everyone and ESPECIALLY to sam because along with it comes safety and security and stability and the only person. who has consistently been able to see through it. is castiel

[aithusarosekiller]

AU Jegulus who are so deeply in love that it feels like nothing can come between them until regulus chooses to visit his parents and in an instant, all the religious trauma and guilt floods back in until he just can't do it anymore. He ends up leaving James alone, stranded, wondering if there was anything he could have done to help him before his parents got in his head again. Before a man James didn't even believe in tore his happiness away from him.

He never blames Regulus, of course, but he spends his nights lying there in silence thinking about how it could have been different

[thatbitch151]

Ya know, everyone talks shit about Fairytail because it does rely heavily on “the power of friendship” and I get if that’s not your thing or feels too childish for you but

Can we acknowledge how dark it all is? Loke/Leo is suicidal in the beginning, Lucy comes from an abusive father and dead mother, Gray is an orphan And his step in mother figure died to save him after he made a bad choice, Erza was an orphan and a Literal Slave as a child with a bunch of other children and her childhood love got possessed and continued her abuser’s work. We all know the shit with Natsu and the dragon slayers.

That’s not even going into the Mirajane/Elfman/Lisanna backstory, or the story of any other characters like Juvia and Happy and Charla and Zeref and such. Like holy shit? This show is so so dark and everyone looks over all the trauma and dark themes because there’s the whole power of friendship thing, which was weaved into the show to actually mean something and not just there for shits and giggles.

All this to say, you can dislike the show, hate it even, but don’t just judge it for the light hearted outer shell it has, because inside is dark and dense and Meaningful

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[thesweetnessofspring]

Katniss actually said that if not for the existence of the Games and Panem's shitty state in general, that she, at 17 years old, could possibly be married and pregnant. Full-on teen mothering it with her dandelion in the spring if Panem could chill out for a sec and stop killing children. And then she proceeded to fantasize about Peeta and his child safe in the meadow. This thought alone gave her one of three nights of restful sleep without drugs post-Games during the series (the other two being when she was in Peeta's arms).

And yet when the Games did end permanently and Katniss indeed went ahead and married/committed to Peeta and had a family with him at about 30 years old, some people still did a surprise Pikachu face and complained it was out of character.

WHAT MORE DID SHE HAVE TO DO TO FORESHADOW THE ENDING?

[heybiji]

dnd valentine's sketch for dal who plays lafavel, the party paladin with a crush on my warlock, dandelion

[aesterblaster]

Shidou is the one who teaches Sae that it's okay to have boundaries in relationships and helps him feel safe, if you even care. Sae is used to being hit on, touched by fans and interviewers since he was 11. Sae is used to people wanting him and his body and his fame. He can handle that aspect of Shidou.

What really gets him is when Shidou starts asking questions. There's no expectations and yet he asks if this or that is okay, he calls him just to ask how he's doing. Sae gets this throbbing anxiety in his chest whenever he wants something as simple as a hug. Afterall, he's the badass soccer prodigy. He shouldn't crave affection when he has such a fulfilling career. Or at least that's what he believes until his new boyfriend gently slips his hand into his at a cafe. And suddenly he's remembering all the time he spent denying his sexuality, all the times men and women so much more experienced than him told him to just suck up his pain because this was all the love he was going to get. All the times he felt unsafe expressing the slightest bit of affection for another man in public and intentionally distanced himself.

It's like you don't even like me, his past flings would whine. Why do you flinch away, his exes chided. They simply hadn't seen what he had, hadn't heard the locker room talk about what one of his teammates would do if he found out he was on a team with a queer person. Shidou scares Sae sometimes with his loud makeup and dyed hair. But damn, does he feel like home. His hand is warm too, feeding Sae's skin hunger. That comfort doesn't stop him from slipping out of his grasp and shoving his hand in his pocket though, glancing around to see who saw them.

Shidou just smiles and leans back. Sae doesn't have to apologize or say anything. He doesn't know what Sae's been through yet, but he can feel the anxiety coming off of him in waves. He doesn't know this yet, but he's the first person who's been gentle with Sae. Who understands that jumping hugs and private comments look much different off the field. No, he doesn't take offense when Sae flinches at pda, and that just makes Sae want him more.

[whaliiwatching]

gradual closing of the gap

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Someone on twt pointed THAT.

Wakui you and your layers of trauma, why I'm discovering new painful details at this point? 😭

(I'm gonna cry in a corner and try to remember that the final timeline exists)

[cargopantsprentiss]

God it’s SO like JJ to be absolutely broken by something, and still be telling everyone it’s nothing, don’t worry, because the case is more important. Add to that, her putting her everything into trying to help Holly because she reminds her of Ros, and that’s a good distraction, that’s something she can actually do something about.

God, it’s heartbreaking but it’s so JJ.

[morganbritton132]

in the EMTTS, does Diane ever find out about the death threat letters to Steve? if her daughter watches Eddie’s tiktok she would’ve seen the videos about it so did she tell her mom? how would Diane react? would her reaction annoy Steve or would he actually find it sweet?

Oh man, her daughter would show her Eddie’s TikTok and Diane’s response would be the same one she has for a death in the family and divorces: desserts and being a pleasant presence in their lives.

Steve doesn’t immediately put two and two together because he kinda assumes that Eddie told their friends about it and that’s why people knew, not that he posted about it on the internet. He honestly just thinks that Diane is being her usual annoying self and thus, following the rules of upper-middle class etiquette, keeps having to bake for her.

She stops by one evening and brings them a plate of macaroons and spends an hour standing on their front porch talking about the neighborhood watch. They gained three new members. Steve interprets this as dig about his sleepwalking and then spends the rest of the evening hate-baking her a pie.

Steve is sitting outside waiting for his carpool one morning and she accosts him to have him try this new doughnut recipe she’s trying out. They’re begrudgingly delicious, but her interrupting the only peace and quiet he’ll get all day to talk about the neighborhood watch again is unforgivable. Steve makes her brownies.

Steve is laying with his back flat against the deck in the backyard, listening to Eddie chase Ozzy around the yard. His eyes are shut but he can feel the sun shining on him, and it’s the first time in a long time that he doesn’t feel like complete shit. So, of course.

“Yoohoo, boys,” Steve hears called over the fence and when he cracks his eyes open, he can see her waving at them. She has a tin of cookies with her and is already handing a homemade dog treat to Eddie, and Steve just sighs so deep within himself that he can feel it in his toes.

When he peels himself off the deck and drags himself over to have a pointless conversation by the fence, he can hear her talking about the neighborhood watch. Again. She is saying something about Suzanne down the street seeing a car circle the block a few time this week with their lights off, and Steve’s just had enough.

He doesn’t have it in him to bake another fucking pie.

He cuts off her rambling about being bad at guessing the make and model of cars with some barely concealed frustration, “That’s Ryan and Jackie’s kid. The one that just got a permit. He and his friends take their car out and joyride it around the neighborhood because Ryan refuses to teach him to drive.”

“We live in a cul-de-sac,” Steve adds because he thinks that she’s being a little ridiculous. He says it like he was no longer a person that had trouble leaving the house, that could open the mail without their hands shaking, that wasn’t in their backyard instead of on a run because they’re afraid – Wait.

Steve’s eyes flicker over to Eddie and then to Diane, and everything slots into place like the most obvious puzzle. Of course, she knows. Everybody probably knows. That’s why the neighborhood watch is suddenly so popular, and yeah.

Later when Steve can think about it all more rationally, it is sweet that their neighborhood is looking out for them and that they’re concerned. But in the moment, Steve feels like he’s been hit with a tidal wave of pity, and he gets frustrated. He gets angry.

He barely registers that he drops the cookie tin on the ground or hears Eddie’s blasé response about Steve’s clumsiness. He knows that he’s about to get mean and he doesn’t want to, so he just turns around and goes inside.

Eddie follows him a few minutes later, asking questions and says that it’s not a big deal that people know. He says that it’s actually better because it means there are more people looking out for him. Steve tells him that he’s not talking about it and goes to bed early.

He wakes up early too. He puts on his shoes and he goes across the street, and he tells Diane when she opens her door, “This needs to stop.”

“Oh good, you’re awake. When I saw you on the porch, I thought you might be…” She trails off, making a twirling gesture at her temple and then frowns. “Oh, that’s not correct, is it? April is always trying to teach me these new rules. I mean nothing by it, dear.”

“I’m not – I’m not broken,” Steve says. “I’m not sick, or weak, or – and I don’t need you to bake things for my husband or form a neighborhood watch for me. I need-“

“Dear, that’s simply not true,” She says, voice dropping into something serious. This might be the first time that Steve has ever seen her not smiling. “I heard about those awful letters you got sent to your door and you may not like it, but at times like these. You need people. You may not like that it’s me, sweetie, but that’s what you got.”

Steve hates how he feels like he’s ten years old and making up excuses for why his parents didn’t pick him up, “I can look after myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but do a girl a favor and let us look after you too,” She says. She must see that he’s not thrilled with that statement because she tells him about a sorority sister she had and the anonymous notes she used to find, and how they buried her two years after graduating.

So, she takes his hand and gives it a squeeze, “Let me do this. For me.”

Steve doesn’t pull his hand away and admits maybe for the first time, “I’m so scared all the time.”

[revelisms]

It starts with Sister.

It starts with Sister in a black-walled room, picking frays of silk with needle-nails and puffing plumes of blue through her teeth:

"If you loved me, you wouldn't have subjected me to this." Cold, splintered, distant as the stars. "You would have let me go."

And Nihil—

Greasepaint a sweat-streaked shine, concert-high dimmed like a lamp, yellowish crescent waning—Nihil stares, and splutters, and says nothing.

(When does Nihil say anything?)

Oh, but he says everything—everything but what he should.

Primo sees it. Secondo sees it. Spits it back in his face, with knife-glared eyes; moonbeam and black sun, first son and second.

"The Gate will be overrun, if you keep up with this."

"You are going against the Way, and you know it."

Nihil stares, splutters, spews a steaming slew of denial.

"You boys haven't seen it." Gristling, shattered, cold as a gale. "You are young."

And Primo, unwittingly, absorbs it. Mirrors that fanged-tongued rhetoric to his youngest; his own, above all else: "This is beyond you now, mh? You are too young to understand."

And with it, Secondo mirrors it, too, carved from spittle and ash: "You two can barely see such things. Don't pretend to know differently, eh?"

And with it, the third son: cracked wings, cracked smile, fragmented-minded son, pinned between the three prongs of their expectations like glass in a gilded frame—

And he expects their chastisements. Expects their flippancy. Expects Nihil's grousing grating shame-turned snarl at a mirror image he won't accept—

But not from Copia.

Not the runt.

"You say so much," his little brother whispers once, when he is still young, frowning and blue-white eyed and arms notched about his knees. "You say so much—but you don't say anything."

And who is he to point the finger?

Who is he to rage?

Terzo stares, and stills, and says nothing.

Says nothing, like his damned dead-eyed father.

But Copia, Copia, Copia—

If he has to burn it all, Copia will break away from it. Copia has been an Other, from the day he was sewn, and he has always known it.

Sewn by those needle-nails into the perfect little doll.

"I won't be that," he spits—older, older now, older always—and though there is gray in his hair, and black on his eyes, and a suit of satin jeweled over his skin, he is still him.

He has always been.

Not a product of his father, not quite—though he has wanted it. Hell, craved it.

But he is, in a way.

They all always were.

Nihil's wheezing laugh. Nihil's sly-winked grins. Nihil's reckless joy. Nihil's anger, selfishness, endless-hearted selflessness, wrapped in a self-spiting package.

"I won't be," Copia whispers again, to a mother who is not there, to a grandmother and an uncle and a sad-eyed hateful-hissing nurturer more than brothers, to a father he is but won't claim.

No—there's a new world under his hand now. A future limitless in his own making.

And that, he'll claim.

That, Saints willing, rethroned, he'll claim.

copia / ties that break

[doyelikehaggis]

7 Days of Scarepairs: Sciles | Scott McCall x Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) + “Grief”

Requested by @joanthangroff (TW mention of suicide attempt)

It was a long ride back from the motel. At least, it felt longer. Stiles' gaze burning holes in the side of his face wasn't making it go any faster, either. Scott could see his bouncing leg, hear his racing heart and smell the anxiety radiating off of him. Even if he were oblivious to all of that, he would still know something was wrong with him.

"Stiles," he said wearily, looking at him properly for the first time since Coach snatched his whistle back off of Lydia and told them to sit down. "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. All good."

The way he glanced at him said otherwise. Scott raised his eyebrows pointedly and the leg bouncing stopped. Stiles ran a hand over his thigh and nodded jerkily as if reiterating that he was fine.

"Look, we're gonna figure this out, okay?" Scott assured him as best he could. "From what Ethan said, there's a good chance that Derek is alive. Once we get back to Beacon Hills, we can find him, and we can make a better plan. No one else is going to get hurt."

He just managed to bite back a promise. He knew he couldn't. He only hoped that it was the truth.

But Stiles stared at him like he could see right through him, his eyes narrowing. He parted his lips like he was going to retort, as he usually would, but instead, he just shook his head and turned to face the back of the seat in front of him. As he ran a hand over his face, Scott frowned.

"You're angry," he blurted out.

Stiles shook his head again and sighed. "No. No, Scotty, I'm not angry." His heart skipped but he acted like Scott couldn't hear it. "I'm just... I'm tired. Last night was..."

"I know," Scott said softly. His own heart skipped. "But the darach's not going to catch us by surprise like that again."

Stiles nodded, but he didn't say anything else. In fact, he didn't say anything else for the rest of the ride. Scott wanted to, but something stopped him. He took to staring out the window and letting his eyes unfocus as he repeated his plan to find Derek in his mind the whole way home.

*

The bus dropped them off at the school. Stiles insisted on driving Scott home, even though he had his bike. He didn't put up a fight - he just wanted to go home and see his mom before he did anything else. That phone call back at the motel had felt too real. He just needed to see her.

Of course, she was at work. Scott sighed when he found the note on the fridge, but he told himself not to overthink it. She was fine.

"Alright, well, I think we should go to Derek's loft first," he said, turning to Stiles who was lingering by the back door, his arms folded. "He'd most likely have gone back there to try and heal."

He frowned.

"Although, if the alpha pack are looking for him, that might be too obvious. Maybe we should try the animal clinic first. He could've gone to Deaton, right?"

He waited for Stiles to agree with him or suggest something he hadn't thought of because right then, all Scott had was a handful of guesses and maybes.

But Stiles didn't chime in. He shrugged when he realized Scott was looking at him.

"Stiles, are you sure you're okay?" he asked gently.

Stiles dragged a hand over his face and sighed again, his tongue in his cheek, and he could smell the irritation on him, just like when they were on the bus.

"You know what? No," he snapped, throwing his hand up. "No, Scott, I'm not okay, and, quite frankly, neither are you, and I don't get why we're just pretending that last night never happened. Because it did."

"Do you mean..." Scott couldn't quite get the words out, his throat closing up around them and forcing them back down. He shifted his feet, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment. "The wolfsbane?"

"Yeah, I'm talking about the wolfsbane," Stiles said, his voice thick with emotion he was failing to contain. "More specifically, what the wolfsbane did to you, Scott."

Scott shook his head, his eyebrows drawing together as he tried to ignore the sick feeling weighing down on him. "It was just... you saw what it did to all of us. Ethan-"

"Tried to saw himself open, yeah," Stiles cut him off. "Probably something to do with his freakish ability to combine into one even more freakish mutation with Aiden. Isaac - he was hiding under his bed. Boyd and Lydia were hearing things. But you, Scott..."

He took a step toward him, and Scott watched his feet, observing every little detail of his shoes and the kitchen floor.

"Scott, you tried to kill yourself."

"It was just..."

"No. No, Scott, the wolfsbane brought out all of your biggest fears and just - just heightened your true emotions. Boyd's guilt about his sister, Isaac's fear of his dad, Lydia always being the one to find dead bodies. It wasn't the wolfsbane talking when you did that. Was it?"

Scott knew he had to give him an answer. He just didn't think either of them really wanted to hear it. The truth hung in the air between them, as suffocating as the gasoline that still clung to Scott's senses.

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly, then looked up to meet Stiles' disbelieving stare. "We need to find Derek. We can't waste any more time, we need-"

"Scott, stop! Can you even - you nearly died! Twice!"

"But I didn't-"

"Because someone stopped you! Allison literally had to sew you back together because you felt so guilty about Derek being dead that you were going to let yourself die, too! Scott, I had to talk you out of setting yourself on fire, how can you not - how do you not see how messed up that is?!"

"Stiles, I'm sorry about last night, okay? I shouldn't have... I should've fought the wolfsbane, or..."

Stiles just stared back at him, shaking his head incredulously. Finally, in a much softer voice, he said, "Scott, I don't want you to be sorry that I had to save you. I just... I just wanna know that you don't actually believe what you said last night."

It was a simple request. It would take just two words. And yet...

Scott opened his mouth. Then he shook his head and closed it again, looking away with a piercing pain where his healed wound was just yesterday.

"You have to admit that a lot of what we've gone through wouldn't have happened if I hadn't..."

"Hadn't what?" He looked back up to see the reason for the quiver in Stiles' voice; tears shone in his wide eyes. "Hadn't survived being bitten by Peter? That's what you meant, wasn't it?"

He tilted his head but he didn't get a chance to deny or confirm. Stiles already knew. He looked like he might crumble into a million pieces.

"Scott," he said, his voice cracking as he moved closer. "I don't care what's happened to us. I don't care about the murderous werewolves or - or the hunters, or any of the crazy supernatural things that keep happening around us, alright? Because we've survived it, but what I wouldn't have survived was losing my best friend."

Scott bit his tongue, his eyes stinging. Part of him wanted to point out all the bad things - the numerous times he's put his life in danger, the people who haven't survived the craziness of their world, and everything else.

Then Stiles really did crumble. "Scott, I meant what I said last night. And I can't lose you. I can't - you and my dad, you're all... you're all I've got, and I can't - Scotty, I can't lose you as well. I need you. And I know how selfish that is, but it's true. So, if you need a reason to - to believe that you should be alive, then there it is. Me, Scott. Make me your reason if you have to, or your mom, or even Allison, because I promise you that none of us would be better off if you weren't here."

"You'd be safe, at least."

He didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out.

"You don't know that," Stiles countered, then he shrugged. "And even if that was true - I don't care. Scott, I'd rather be in danger every day of my life from some supernatural threat than live without you."

He didn't know what to say to that. All he could do was surge forward and hug him. Stiles immediately wrapped his arms tight around him, as if he never intended to let go.

"I'm sorry," he repeated quietly into his shoulder.

"Just make me a promise, Scotty. Alright? Promise that you'll talk to me, so that, when you start blaming yourself for every bad thing that's ever happened, I can tell you what an idiot you are."

Scott chuckled and nodded. "I promise." Then, he softly added: "I mean it."

Stiles tightened his arms just a little more. Both of them savoured the feeling of the other against them. Solid. Real. Alive. Safe. For a moment, they were as physically intertwined as they were in every other way.

Scott knew they should look for Derek. They should come up with a plan to stop the darach. But he wasn't ready to let go of the first real feeling of comfort he'd felt in a while.

[averlym]

"now, doesn't that look nice?" [insp]