#ptsd rambles

[amphsy]

why are online communities that specifically foster a "wholesome/friendly" image so popular with abusers? bc anyone speaking up against someone is immediately cast out for "ruining the vibe" or causing drama

[manhattan-gamestop]

Me explaining why my grades were/are shit

[letsventstuff]

This feeling of nothingness is gnawing at my bones again.

[biboomerangboi]

Stucky fic writers were truly on something else because earlier this week I remembered the line “they can bury us in one coffin to save on lumber” and thought it was a lyric from like a fucking hoizer song or something along those lines only to go get a drink at 2am in my kitchen and be hit over the head with the reminder it’s actually from a Stucky Fic I read in 2017.

[imnotditzy]

Since Fawcett takes place in the fifties (in my AU), and the Second World War ended in nineteen thirty nine, it’s not unreasonable for a good chunk of the population of Fawcett to be war veterans as their state had a large amount of survivors. But imagine the amount of traumatized young residents coming back from the war and just not being fazed by anything. Fawcett was so numb to all the weirdness showing up in their hometown, the veterans going numb from war, members of the community too busy or traumatized to care from the whole experience. The emotions families must’ve felt watching their people come back shells of themselves. Cracked in ways they can’t fix, with no way to make them the people they used to be. And then having to go back to regular life, Fawcett most definitely was struggling.

Maybe that’s why they like Captain Marvel so much, he’s a symbol of optimism after the lives they’ve lived.

[pincushionx]

Hunter head canon #2

I feel like we need to remember that Hunter was treated like an adult and was around adults his whole life. Not just any adults but adults in the emperors coven and coven heads themselves. Who are shown to be, to put it nicely, catty. In result, Hunter himself can be very catty even if he doesn’t mean to be. The lack of knowledge to certain social cues and his overall sass can make him seem pretty mean even if he doesn’t mean to be.

I also imagine him being a young emperor coven head (for goodness sake he’s 16 and already the golden guard when we meet him) he was frequently the butt of the joke among other coven heads. So of course he needed to be just as harsh back to not let himself put down like that.

Like the hexsquad will be messing with each other for fun as friends do and he will just insult them and their whole existence and when the others tell him like bro that enough he’s like “oh no, did I do something wrong. Im sorry :(“ and the other have show him a difference between a joke and insult and the limits to a joke. He quickly learns and is understanding of course cause he does genuinely love his friends.

However with that being said, when he does start attending Hexside like he said he was he runs into some issues. For starters, I imagine him being ex golden guard and being a bit different (obvious scarring, weird personality, etc) many aren’t very kind to him. But what makes him hard to bully is that he can easily rebuttal back and do it meaner. He was surrounded by rude, powerful adults, he can handle some measly rude teens easily. Of course he still does get emotionally effected, he’s not a robot obviously. But he can defend himself and has others to help him

I also imagine he knows how to “professionally” insult people. Making his insults sound polite or be very passive aggressive. Like. “Just a friendly reminder…” or “we can’t all have winning ideas, we need people like you to help fill the roster” or “There’s no reason to be so humble, it’s quite indifferent” and other things.

Idk theses are just my thoughts as I feel alot of people make him seem idk… weaker I guess or a ‘pure soft boy’. He can be both soft n sweet but still a sassy lil shit. Their must be balance people

[avoidantrecovery]

my current avpd theory

i've been thinking and i think i have a theory about avpd based on all the things i've been reading and listening to lately.

i think avpd consists of/comes to be because of these things:

initial traumatic experience (that included some kind of rejection or ostracization)

no healthy way to process trauma or co-regulate with anyone

dissociation from the "real you" (it is associated with shame due to initial trauma, but also perhaps out of self-protection)

coping mechanism to make up for dissociated "real you" (masking, agoraphobia, social anxiety, co-dependency and/or enmeshment ("safe person"),...)

relational self via the "real you" remains underdeveloped or not there at all (so this could be b/c of masking, not engaging at all, ...)

lacking experiences of being "experienced by another person" as described in the infamous article/study as well as this post and this post.

this then spirals into the known avpd symptoms

the dissociation part is the important part though. i think this is key. the reason why people with avpd report this feeling of not being there, feeling invisible, etc... is because of this i think. for me i always felt like i was a robot or running on a "low flame". and when i use the term "dissociation" i'm using it as it is used in trauma and cptsd circles. a kind of detachment and separation from our own true being, feelings, thoughts, etc...

and when you're dissociated, it's hard to truly interact with people and practice that relational self muscle. instead, if you even have relationships with others, they are superficial, involve a lot of masking & mirroring and can only be kept up for so long, because that is exhausting in the long run. it's impossible to be genuine or vulnerable when you're not really there and not really being honest for the fear of repeating the trauma (shame and fear). and the more time passes with us desperately trying to engage others without our "real self" being in the drivers seat, the more we feel out of sync with everyone else and the more the formation of our relational self suffers and remains underdeveloped or not there at all. everything begins to compound into the known symptoms.

i don't know i've been going through old stuff (journals and letters) of mine and i'm so confused, but i'm trying to think through it all in the hopes of finding a way out. as always. 🥲 maybe the theory makes sense to others, too?

[ahalliance]

how is ETOILES the most normal person out of the French currently HOW DID THAT HAPPEN

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

do you ever stop to imagine a very cold very tired tav unable to sleep finding zevlor in the grove and taking a seat beside him only to fall asleep and rest their weary little adventurer's head on his warm tiefling shoulder? because i do.

i do a lot.

[catwouthats]

“How can this many people simply vote for Trump in the first place?”

✨Gaslighting✨

And

✨Teaching themselves apathy because they have been pushed to the brink and are only focused on their own survival and think that this guy will give it because he

gaslight themmmm✨

[mishaswolfden]

oh Im thinking about Dali and his PTSD again

Dali having such bad night terrors/paranoia about someone taking his children away that he starts taking them to sleep in his bed with him

He doesn't tell them the reason, obviously, its better they think he's just being nice and letting them all sleep together -- but in reality he just wants to make absolute sure that if there's ever another break-in, that he has Raphael and Ul within an arm's reach

Which in my head just makes the latest episode even worse, absolutely do not imagine Dali curled up in bed, ruminating all night about how the one time he wasn't there, they took the children away. They took Frieda and Sue away, now Raphael, and what's next? Would they come back for baby Ul? Blaming himself for letting down the women he made a promise to, not even a year ago

*evil cackling*

[avnasace]

for some reason i need furina and scara to be bitchy best friends

i need scara and furina complaining about arlecchino

i need them venting about how much their respective gods fucked them up

i need them bonding over reinventing themselves

they would actually be such an iconic duo

[letsventstuff]

The realization that you can be as silly, horrible, suicidal, depressed, and vice versa as you want on Tumblr and nobody would even make you feel that you're a horrible person🫶

[unclewaynemunson]

There is thunder in our hearts

Eddie used to love thunderstorms. He loved it when he could feel the heavy electric tension in the air, when the skies got that dark shade of gray expanding over the horizon; he loved the anticipation of what was about to come. But most of all, he loved it when the clouds burst: the moment the skies broke open and the pouring rain, accompanied by the rolling thunder far away but swiftly coming closer, would sound like the opening chords to his favorite song. He loved running outside, standing in the dirt with his arms spread out wide, the taste of the water on his tongue and the rain washing away everything that didn't matter. He'd see other people sprinting from their cars to their houses and he would quietly laugh at them because they were missing out on the single most magical thing that nature had to offer.

Eddie used to love thunderstorms. Until that one time when the skies went gray and the thunder started roaring and all he could think about were bats crowding the air above him, long tails wrapping around his neck, claws and teeth tearing into his flesh, tears in Dustin's eyes...

He ran outside like he always did, hoping that the feeling would pass, hoping that the rain against his skin would remind him of exactly how alive he was; but no such thing happened. Wayne had to follow him into the storm and carry him back inside. He wrapped him in a blanket and made him a cup of hot cocoa and it took Eddie twenty minutes until he managed to stop crying and almost two days before he felt like himself again.

Ever since that happened, he stopped going outside during thunderstorms. Instead, he curls into himself now, as far away from the windows as possible. He plays his music at the loudest possible volume to not have to hear the thunder and he closes his eyes to not have to see the lightning. Sometimes, Wayne is there with him. He never asks, never pries; he simply keeps him company and hands him a blanket in case he feels the need to hide himself further away. He does what Wayne does best: letting Eddie know that he is safe by merely existing next to him, a quiet and calming presence who tells him stories in an attempt to distract him, his soft voice barely drowning out the sounds of the storm.

But Wayne isn't always there when a storm hits. He's often at the plant, or Eddie himself is at work, or with his friends. And it's fine. It isn't like that first time anymore, when he collapsed in the middle of a big muddy pool in front of the trailer and could see nothing but red skies or hear Dustin's screams ringing through his ears, the scent of decay filling up his nose until Wayne got to him and pulled him back into the present. It's not that intense anymore; he can blink those memories away and focus on the music or the voices around him instead. Even though it may still speed up his heartbeat and make his breathing uneven, he can keep functioning.

Or that's what he thought. Until he's in the car with Steve and a storm takes them by surprise and there's nowhere to hide; no way to get away from the window, to bury himself underneath a blanket under the pretense that he's cold, to do anything to take his attention away from it all. And maybe it's also because Steve is sitting right next to him: Steve, whose arms carried Eddie out of the Upside Down, the same arms that are now folded in front of his chest in the passenger seat of Eddie's van.

It's just heavy rain, at first; Eddie can handle rain, he's not a complete coward. But then he hears the rumbling thunder in the distance and his fists clench around the steering wheel and he almost forgets how to breathe. He starts pushing random buttons on the broken radio in the hope that it'll magically have repaired itself and start blasting Judas Priest to save him. Nothing happens, though. Of course not. And the rain only gets louder.

'Eddie,' says Steve, letting his name dance off his tongue in the last echoes of the thunder. Only a few months earlier, Eddie would've loved the sound of that, would have wanted to record the melody and play it on repeat forever.

'Hm?'

'Are you okay?'

Before Eddie can even start to answer that question, another deep rumble echoes through the skies while the rain starts beating even harder against the roof and the windows of his van.

'Eddie,' Steve repeats, more urgent this time. 'I need you stop driving. Right now.'

And Eddie immediately obeys.

'What's happening?' Steve asks as soon as they're standing still. His soft brown eyes wander over Eddie's face, attentive and worried.

'It's the goddamn storm, man,' Eddie explains in a choked voice.

Understanding dawns over Steve's features right away.

'Want me to drive you home?' he asks without missing a beat.

But Eddie shakes his head. 'I can't - can't get out. Of the car.' His mind takes him back to that moment when he collapsed in the middle of the trailer park - he can't do that again. Not anywhere, but certainly not here. With Steve.

'Okay, well, there's no way we're gonna keep driving like this,' says Steve. 'Let's wait it out, alright?' He doesn't talk to Eddie any differently, still seems practical as ever. Probably what years of experience with the craziest fucking supernatural shit does to a person, Eddie supposes. It's Steve at his core: act first, think later. Make sure everybody is – or feels – as safe as can be, the rest is secondary.

The thunder has come closer and a forked bolt of lightning flashes through the gray expanse of the sky. Eddie can't help but flinch at it.

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt and promptly starts climbing between the two front seats towards the back of the van. If Eddie was in any better mindset, he would probably have appreciated the view he is given much more.

'C'mon,' Steve says when he's sat on the ground, offering a hand through the two front seats. 'This seems like a good place to hide.'

Eddie has no choice but to take it. He ends up right next to Steve in the small space in front of the backseats, crouched down in a slightly uncomfortable position. Steve reaches further to the back to get the ratty old blanket that lies there and wraps it over both of them.

'Does this feel safer?'

Honestly, Eddie doesn't know. 'A little bit, I guess,' he mumbles, because that sort of feels like what the correct answer should be.

'You wanna talk about it?'

'Not really,' he admits.

'That's fine too,' Steve answers with a slight shrug. 'We can just sit here. Or do you want me to distract you?'

'I dunno.' It sounds quiet, with the way the big raindrops keep clattering onto the van. 'Wayne tells me stories, sometimes.'

''Bout what?'

'The olden days.' Eddie tries to use one of his dramatic voices, get things back to normal again, but the delivery doesn't land all too well. 'Shit he and my dad used to do. How my grandpa would get mad at them.' He pauses for a moment. 'Apparently my grandpa was scared of storms, too. And my dad. It runs in the family; that tends to happen when you're a farmer and a whole year worth of income can be destroyed by one single storm.'

'When I was younger,' Steve starts to tell, 'I was scared as shit of storms, too. I'd always make those huge pillow forts in the living room, put as many layers between me and the storm as I could.'

Eddie can picture it clear as day: a little version of the guy sitting next to him, with chubby cheeks and shorter hair, hauling a whole bunch of cushions and blankets around to make himself feel safe. It helps him take his mind off what's happening on the outside of the van.

'Sometimes my dad would crawl in there with me,' Steve continues. 'And he would wrap his arms all around me – like this – one more layer, y'know.' He shuffles to haul Eddie into his arms. They're warm against Eddie's own skin, and it is indeed comforting, so Eddie doesn't complain.

'Try to relax, okay?' Steve says. 'I'm right here, and I'll stay here with you for as long as you need. I won't let anything happen to you.' He tightens his grip and urges Eddie to let himself fall against Steve's chest. Eddie has no choice but to sway the way Steve wants him to and lands with his head right on top of Steve's heart. The fabric of his dark green polo is soft against Eddie's cheek and the sound of his heartbeat gets added to the symphony of the storm. He tries to focus solely on that heartbeat, complemented by Steve's breathing, Steve's voice – it makes it easier to drown out the sounds of the storm.

'I hate that this had to happen,' Eddie quietly admits. 'It used to be one of my favorite things in the world, standing outside in the pouring rain. Made me feel alive more than anything else.'

'It sucks,' Steve agrees. He raises one hand to put it on Eddie's head, softly stroking over his hair like he's a cat. 'After the first time we fought it,' he continues, 'when we, you know, pieced together what must've happened to Barb... I couldn't swim anymore. I was terrified of my own backyard. Nance helped me get through it, told me I should face my fears head on. She went to the library and got a whole bunch of books about phobias and traumas and kept talking to me about “exposure therapy.” I was skeptical about it at first, but it actually helped.'

Eddie chuckles darkly. 'Wanna know what happened when I tried to face this shit head on?'

'What?'

'I fucking lost it, man. Went out into the storm like I always did, and just – it was like I was back there. I lost my goddamned mind and Uncle Wayne had to pick up the pieces.'

Steve hand keeps stroking over Eddie's hair while he wraps the other one around Eddie's nervously fumbling fingers.

'We can try it together,' he says. 'We don't have to do it right now. Just... whenever you're ready. If you want to.'

Eddie nods. He isn't sure if he'll ever be ready, but at least doing it with Steve seems less daunting than doing it alone.

Another thunderclap, louder than any of the previous ones and accompanied by a bright flash of lightning, makes Eddie jump in Steve's arms.

'Try not to pay attention to it,' Steve says. 'It's gonna be over before you know it.' And then he starts humming. He even starts rocking Eddie in his arms. It should make him feel embarrassed, Eddie thinks, like he's a fucking child. But it doesn't. It helps him to let the sounds of the raging storm fade to background noise, finally taken over by the symphony that is Steve.

By the time the storm dies down, Eddie is pretty sure he must have fallen asleep at some point, because somehow he imagines that Steve presses a gentle kiss against his temple.

[foldingfittedsheets]

By where we live there’s an eight way stop. It’s the fucking worst because we’re one intersection away from the freeway and people just blaze through it all the time. Every time I leave my house it’s a stressor.

Today my beloved was driving my car, Hades, and taking us to lunch. I always check the intersection along with them to make sure we’re safe. It was our turn to go. Both of us were eyeing a car on the right that was coming in hot when a car from the left just blazed by in front of us, not even slowing.

My wife was so fast to slam on the brake (didn’t even stall the manual transmission like a champ) and the car passed us with only inches between us. We were too shocked to honk, and both of us sat with hearts pounding while we processed what happened.

“Go,” I said, head still frozen in panic but registering that we were halfway into the intersection and the other cars were waiting for us to take our turn. “Pull over if you have to, we just need to go.”

Hades lurched back into motion and my wife pulled us over a block away and came to my side of the car to smoosh me in a hug. They kept us safe, and nothing bad happened, but it took a while to convince our bodies of that.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Reading conversations about Hazbin Hotel's Angel elsewhere on the Internet makes me very glad for all of you here.

When I wrote Kauri, I worried a little after his freedom that he would be misunderstood, not connect with readers as much, because he dealt with abuse and rape by becoming hypersexual and self-destructive, taking control back over his body in the only way he knew how to do at the time.

With Angel, who does the same thing, I see people complaining that it's unrealistic or "sexualizing trauma" and I just...

I appreciate you guys here so much. You got it, with Kauri, right from the start, that sex can exist alongside or within a tragedy and sex can just as much be one of the ways someone rebuilds their foundation after it crumbles. That no one has to be the perfect pure and noble victim, some people fuck up because it can feel like if you hurt yourself first, other people can't hurt you that way any longer. It's a shield, a form of protection, just one with spikes on the inside that cut you even as they keep everyone else from getting the chance.

So yeah.

Seriously, as a writer I would like to thank my Kauri readers for getting what he needed to do and who he was so well so fast and following with me as he figured it all out.

Just having the thinky thoughts today.