#trauma implied

[odball]

I want to have sex I want to trust someone enough for that but anytime I get close to it I panic cause I don't want them to remind me of what happened to me I don't want to mix them up in my mind with my past :(

[the-forestry-system]

I wonder if when you look in our eyes you see me. I wonder if you remember the despicable things you did. the unspeakable things you put me through. you don't though do you? you don't see that. you don't see a broken person who took it all and was torn apart piece by piece. you just see the mask of a smiling face and pleasant words because there's no point in telling you what you did. because you know. you just feel no guilt.

[the-beastlands-craze]

i mourn the person i never got to be

[obae-me]

I like to imagine an MC with ~Trauma~ (because same) that is just completely oblivious to how much all the other characters will back-flip and change entire habits for them. Like, I'm envisioning:

MC is just casually hanging out like usual when some of the brothers break out fighting in the house...like usual, and the shouting and sounds of things breaking causes them to tear up and panic a bit. Although they don't really notice that for the next month, none of them get into fights and when they start to do so, they end up taking it outside.

Or maybe MC avoiding the angels for a good while and no one can figure out why till they mention that they're not used to people treating them like that and it's very unnatural. "At least being around demons feels more normal." And none of the characters take this well. Even Diavolo has to sit down and stare at a wall for a while and reevaluate his whole outlook on things. Simeon tries sounding a bit more "rough" for a while and it flops terribly.

Or even:

MC: Oh, there you guys are, I was wondering where some of you went.

*A few of the brothers lift their head as the human enters the living room.*

MC: Is there something going on? Why are you all here?

Mammon: Sittin' here watchin' the races.

Satan: Reading.

Lucifer: Taking the time to catch up on old Devildom infrastructure.

Levi: Playing the newest Hell Souls!

MC: *A bit confused.* So you're all doing your own thing...in the living room?

Satan: That's typically what the living room is for.

MC: But...doesn't that make you uncomfortable?

*All of them realize they've never really seen MC come out of their room unless invited otherwise.*

Lucifer: *Physically vibrating in his seat trying to hold back the "Take Them Under Your Wing" urge he's started to experience at least once a week now.*

I just...listen I know they're demons but they comfort they would bring...

[02511213942]

claiming my @aftgtandn canon-divergence fest prompt: what if lola had partially blinded neil?

ao3 | full T&N collection 🔀💚 sorry for posting late after reveals!!! 🙇 no surprises lol these are my guys! thanks SOOO much to the t&n mods for the wonderful event!!!

click for the emotional support drawing i had to make to keep myself from losing it:

actor au lol 🥹

[knightofleo]

Angela Orosco Silent Hill 2

[perdamian]

hey guys… we all know that it’s okay for mithrun to have a caretaker for the rest of his life, right? that even after he heals and potentially regains his desires he will probably still need support?? that the goal of healing is not to become a “normal person”, but to build skills to navigate the world in a way that accommodates your disability??? that relying on the people around you is not a failure, but proof of your desire to live????

[bunnieswithknives]

AU based off Nature except I kept thinking about it too hard. Dales not a good dad, but its such an easy problem for him to throw money at, and what do you do when a part is damaged? Well, you replace it.

Basically an AU where Dev gets to experience medical trauma and realizes much sooner how much his dad doesn't love him

[fleshoffleshboneofmybone]

a lovesick child weeps against the arch of a mother's breast the heart that beats "save me daughter"

[hey-heigo]

normal day at the future foundation

[dclovesdanny]

Dcxdp

Dan/Danny/Dani 2/5

Dan raising Ellie and Danny in Central City

Due to the GIW interfering and almost killing everyone, Danielle was destabilized and Danny was almost completely ended.

Dan, who had been doing community service with Clockwork, was now saddled with his younger self who was now a baby, and his younger self’s clone, who was now a toddler, both of whom had very little memories of before.

Due to Vlad and the GIW, being dicks, it wasn’t safe for Danny or Ellie to remain in Amity while the fighting was going on. So, clockwork decided that Dan, for the rest of his parole, was going to raise both halfas in the immortal world, since staying in the infinite realms was not good for them.

Thankfully, clockwork and Tucker created a fake identity. He was now Dante times, a single father of a girl named Eleanor and a boy named Danny. Clock work even lined up a job for him as a mechanic at a shop in Central city.

He even had a slightly odd friendship with a guy named Roy, a single dad who lived in Central City due to some problems with his father, and had an adorable little girl named Lian.(Ellie and Lian were best friends from the moment they met, and both girls doted on baby Danny.)

Wally hadn’t expected much when he found out Roy was living in Central city. It was a well-known fact that he had been feuding with Green Arrow for a while, and the Flash Family had agreed to let Roy hide out here. What he wasn’t expecting to see was the guy who Bart had warned them all about, the guy that had taken out all the heroes, including Batman, in his nightmare future, talking to Roy over coffee while a girl who looked exactly like him play dolls with Lian. He especially wasn’t expecting to see the man Bart described as a sadistic monster soothe a crying baby boy who looked almost exactly like him.

Wally got the feeling they would have to have a Flash Family meeting soon, and started debating on bringing Roy.

[neonghozt]

My first time drawing man mammaries

[abigailmoment]

It wasn't just bad luck that Staeve was targeted. It was a calculated attack. Halsin knew well enough how a caster could examine their enemies for tells. Halsin did it himself. Considered an opponent's tactics, and guessed at the places their mind would be most vulnerable.

You didn't have to be a gifted empath to watch how Staeve hurled himself into the thick of combat, right at the biggest bandit wielding the two-handed great sword, and think that the man might be vulnerable to a spell that exploited wisdom.

The fact that it took down Astarion too, well, perhaps that one was just bad luck.

It happened like this:

-

This is written about @velnna's Tav, Staeve. I was delighted to discover that they don't mind fan fiction being written about him.

I'm always cautious about writing for other people's OCs--getting voices right is so important to me. I have elegantly avoided that issue here.

-

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

-

The fight was an incidental bit of banditry. Dangerous banditry, certainly. Bandits with  great swords, supported by wizards. Halsin hung back with Gale while the two rogues dashed forward to give truth to the old adage that the best defense was killing the other fellow extremely quickly. 

They cut down the man with the great sword and the woman with the mace and shield. Reinforcements were coming from around a rocky overhang. Halsin coaxed the earth to throw up entangling vines to slow them down. Gale drenched them with glimmering light that illuminated all their vulnerable points for Astarion and Staeve to shoot at.

Only the half-orc made it through the vines and the light. He was bloodied and wrathful. He was huge, but it was two against one, and the two were flanking with each other. It would have been an easy end to the combat, except that apparently there was a bandit wizard hidden somewhere in the trees who chose this moment to cast a spell. 

One second Staeve was a blood spattered half-drow sprinting full-tilt, sword out, towards a fighter twice his size. And then he was gone.

Some sort of teleportation? Banishment? Gale was saying something about trajectory and scanning the treeline. Halsin was yelling, he wasn't sure what, the concern was more important than the words. He started running forward. Because two rogues against a barbarian was fine, but one rogue against a barbarian was an extremely fast way for that rogue to die.

And Astarion knew that so he should be running away. But he wasn't running away. He was darting forward and ducking low and almost getting hit by a greataxe as he snatched something off of the ground. 

Then he was running, thank the Gods. There was something cradled in his arms, which meant he didn't have his rapier out as he scrambled back.

It was a cat. Halsin saw. They were ten feet away from each other when Halsin realized that Astarion was carrying a large, extremely upset tabby cat with grey-green fur.

That was when Astarion vanished. No. Not vanished. As the tabby tumbled to the ground, something small and white was already there, darting for cover. 

Then the half-orc arrived. Bellowing and huge, at least when compared to cats. Not quite as huge when compared to Halsin. 

Halsin decided to turn into a bear. It was amazing how many problems you could solve by turning into a bear. 

-

"I am feeling my oversight in not preparing dispel magic today," said Gale. "Or counterspell."

"This is not a situation we could have anticipated," Halsin said.

Staeve contributed to the conversation, but because of present circumstances, it came out as a meow.

He was large for a cat. His fur was pale brown, tabby-striped with green. His stripes crisscrossed in a way that reminded Halsin of his tattoos. His scar was a fur-less groove in his face. He had the same pale green eyes as always. That color was quite appropriate in a cat.

He meowed again, more insistently this time.

"We will," Halsin assured him. 

"You're speaking with him?" Gale asked. 

"Not magically," Halsin said. It had been a long day and he had barely anything left to cast with. "But I think I understand him."

"Do you?"

"Think a moment and I am confident that you too will guess what he wants from us."

It did only take a moment. Gale was an intelligent man, when prompted. And they'd all seen the small white cat vanish into the woods during the bear-orc fight.

"Ah. Of course." Gale addressed the cat, voice reassuring. "Astarion should be relatively safe though. Polymorph is temporary and even if something did happen to him in the interim, he would just revert to his natural form."

Staeve's whiskers went back and his ears went flat in a thoroughly unimpressed way. 

"I think it would be best to find him and make sure nothing happens," Halsin said with mellow diplomacy. 

"Of course." Gale paused, then said delicately: "Given my skill in woodland matters, or lack thereof, I may best serve this cause by getting out of the way."

Halsin smiled. "It is a wise man who knows his limitations."

"I'll meet you all back at camp then?" said Gale.

"Take a potion of invisibility for the trip," Halsin suggested. "There might still be bandits about."

Staeve had gotten impatient with them, and was padding off into the forest. Halsin handed Gale the potion and hastened to follow.

-

Staeve scampered about the forest like he was looting the place. No hole, hollow log, wasp nest, or brown recluse spider-web was left uninvestigated. The loss of seventy five percent of his gray matter had done the man's already flagging survival instincts no favors. Halsin spent half of his attention looking for signs of a small white cat, and half of his time making sure Staeve's efforts at tracking didn't get him killed.

After being only a hairsbreadth quick enough to pull Staeve away from the entrance to a dire-badger-burrow Halsin decided that his partner was now going to be carried. Staeve made a meowling, writhing objection. He was terribly invested in the search. A compromise was reached when he was offered a perch high on Halsin's broad shoulders. Staeve proceeded to clamber from shoulder to shoulder as Halsin walked, ears always forward and alert, eyes bright, head turning this way and that as he scanned the woods.

Small cats with stealth training were not easy things to track through dense forest. Halsin did end up using his last spell slot to cast speak with animals. The local mice and voles always noticed when predators passed, even small ones. Halsin spoke to them while keeping one hand on Staeve, who watched the tiny creatures with bright, newly interested eyes.

Halsin of course spoke with Staeve as well, but it wasn't quite the same. Talking to a person who had been transformed into an animal was not the same as talking to that person. Shape changed you. How you saw things. How you thought. The mind of a cat was a fraction of the size of that of an elf or half-elf. Thinking with it was different. The change was easiest for druids. It was hardest for the cursed, who did not choose the new shape. Who were surprised by it.

He spoke to Staeve and learned things he had already known from observation. He reassured Staeve that the mice had given useful guidance.

That guidance led them north, then west, and then to a long hollow log, moss covered and broken in two places. A good hiding spot, and the sort of shelter that had a lot of escape routes. Staeve jumped off of Halsin's shoulder as the druid knelt down and they both peered inside.

In the darkness, Halsin could just make out a pair of ruby-bright eyes staring warily back at him. 

Beside him, Halsin watched Staeve relax for the first time since becoming a cat. He wasn't actually as large as Halsin had first thought--it was just that his hackles had been up and his tail puffed out for the duration of the transformation.

It could be a painful thing indeed, to have one's heart so completely entwined with another's safety. A deeply worthwhile thing, but a painful thing, sometimes. 

Halsin made a deferring motion to Staeve, who nodded in a rather un-catlike like way. Halsin stepped back from the log, moving slowly so as not to startle anything. He shifted a few feet away and sat close enough to watch, but far away enough that his looming size wasn't an ominous thing.

Staeve didn't go inside the hollow log. He sat at the entrance. Lay down at the entrance, body long and casual, head up on the lip of the log so he could keep looking inside. Modeling relaxation.

He started to purr. Halsin could hear him purring even from a few feet away. A loud, constant, soothing rumble. It somehow did not surprise Halsin that Staeve had a loud purr.

And then Staeve waited. Patient as anything. Waiting and watching and purring in a low buzz, as steadily as a beehive.

Halsin could not see inside the log, but he could guess at when Astarion moved because Staeve's ears would flick. Staeve had a fine poker face, but everyone had tells. 

Something happened, or occurred to him, that made Staeve raise his head and sit up slightly from his sprawl on the ground. Then he stood up entirely. He gave Halsin a significant look, and trotted off into the underbrush. 

Conscious that he had just been assigned new responsibility, Halsin shifted so that he had a good view of the log's entrances and everything around it. There wasn't much danger, Halsin’s presence in general kept most predators away from this space. But still.

During his vigil, Halsin saw the glimmer of red cat-eyes once. And only briefly. 

Staeve came back soon. He had a dead vole in his mouth and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He dropped the vole at the mouth of the log, took a few pawpads back and watched expectantly.

It took another long minute, but after that minute a small white cat crept out of the darkness.

This should surprise no one, but Astarion was a beautiful cat. Slender and graceful with large eyes. His fur was pure, silvery white and just long enough to curl slightly. He moved with a cautious precision that Halsin recognized as his habit, and that deeply suited his new form. 

He sniffed at the vole. He shot Staeve a judgmental look, because Gods forbid the man accept any kindness without prevaricating about it in some way. He glanced at Halsin. And then he leaned down to slide exceptionally long canines into the corpse's chest.

Staeve flopped down about a foot away and watched him with an expression of pleased devotion that would honestly be a bit more appropriate on a dog.

Astarion ate fastidiously, and without getting even a blot of blood on his snow-white fur. When he finished he licked his teeth.

When Staeve was quite sure Astarion was done eating, he sidled up slantwise, sauntering around the vole corpse as if he just casually happened to be taking a stroll in this part of the forest for no particular reason. He stopped just short of Astarion. His ears were forward. His tail flicked lightly from side to side. 

Astarion regarded him levelly with his 'I know what you're doing and I know you think you're being clever about it but you're not' expression. Then, as if granting a boon, he deigned to rub his forehead gently against the underside of Staeve's chin.

Staeve took this as the invitation that it was and pressed back, much more enthusiastic and honest in his delight at the contact. Which in turn gave Astarion an excuse and space to do what he wanted and enjoy it.

They were always very dear to watch together. Whatever form they took. In about a minute they were curled over each other on the ground and Staeve was industriously grooming Astarion's head.

Halsin let this go on for as long as he could. But the shadows were lengthening, and they were very close to the Shadowlands, and he was out of spell slots, and the rogues were currently housecats.

"It is getting late, dear ones," he said softly. 

Astarion twitched at the interruption, and Staeve licked him three times along the neck and chest in a soothing way. Then they disentangled from each other and padded over to Halsin.

Halsin picked up Staeve, but he knelt down and laid his arm on the ground so that Astarion could climb up and find what perch he wanted by himself. They did both end up in his arms. Staeve was tired and quite ready to be carried, and Astarion didn't want to be out of contact with him.

As Halsin walked through the woods with an armfull of cat, Staeve started to purr again. It was really the most marvelous sound. A soothing distillation of satisfaction and care. Almost enough to tempt one away from being a bear.

Astarion did not purr. Some cats didn't. Or purred only very rarely. But Astarion did, at one point, look up at Halsin and blink his bright red eyes very slowly. 

And that was a precious thing.

****

Other stories like this.

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[writer-room]

Its so funny that Arin and Sora have shown to have significantly better emotional intelligence than any of the ninja from all of the old seasons combined. "You should be taking care of your mental health" and "yeah saving the world is upsetting! no wonder you're having stress dreams" oh my precious children. You are surrounded by a teen dad with massive self-worth issues, the only one of two people who remembers the genie incident and also turned into the sea once, guy who's died like 3+ times and committed genocide under mind control, and a child soldier who's been living the hard knock life since age 2.

I hope to god you two are prepared to witness the most mentally unwell behavior you've seen in your entire teenage lives. You think you've already seen how bad it can get now? Fools. Just wait until you get a mission involving the Departed Realm

[sparvverius]

i rewatched the enemy imagine dragons music video and i had totally forgotten about the scene with vi and powder it depicts: a group of enforcers walk by and powder mimes shooting one of them with a finger gun. the enforcers violently shove her and vi up against a fence and frisk them. cut to vi and powder's shared room where they're arguing--it seems vi is berating her for what she did in front of the enforcers. it's interpolated by scenes of them clearly years younger having a pillow fight, and at some point, as past vi hits powder playfully with a pillow, current day vi shoves current day powder to the ground hard. powder looks scared and vi walks away, hitting the furniture as she goes.

obviously it's not as intense as vi hitting powder after vander's death but it does imply that wasn't the first time vi has been rough with her.... man :(

[aventurineswife]

not exactly a request (feel free to write the idea however) but i was thinking of smth miiight with a little tw on a certain interpretation of aven's past, but i'd like to think about Aventurine honestly spouting that it's nice to have an enjoyable intimate moment while he cuddled his lover after bed matters and reader is just like hugged him tight knowing what it implies.

"You hug me tightly as if it's just a sweet dream"

Summary: After an intimate moment, Aventurine allows himself to be vulnerable, confessing how much he treasures the rare comfort of being loved without conditions. You embrace him tightly, offering reassurance and unconditional love as you share a quiet, tender moment that helps him begin to heal from his past.

Tags: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Intimacy Cuddling, Emotional Vulnerability, Slow Burn Healing, Implied Past Trauma, Established Relationship.

Warnings: Brief mentions of Aventurine’s traumatic past, Themes of vulnerability and recovery from emotional trauma.

A/N: need to give him all the hugs and kisses now 😕

The room was cloaked in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through gauzy curtains, casting faint patterns on the walls. The quiet hum of the city outside blended into the peaceful stillness inside, broken only by the sound of slow, steady breaths. Aventurine lay beside you, his hair disheveled and his eyes half-lidded with a rare sense of vulnerability.

His arm draped lazily across your waist, his fingertips tracing absent patterns on your bare skin. The intimacy of the moment felt fragile, as if speaking too loudly would shatter it. He wore his usual post-mischief grin, but there was a softness in his expression, a naked honesty he rarely revealed to anyone but you.

“You know…” Aventurine’s voice was low, his usual sharpness dulled by the haze of afterglow. “It’s nice. This.”

You tilted your head slightly to look at him, catching the way his eyes seemed to drift, not quite meeting yours. His fingers paused their lazy movements, his hand now resting warm and steady on your side.

“It’s nice to just… enjoy a moment,” he continued, his tone uncharacteristically somber. “Not to think about what’s next or what I need to win. Just this.”

His words settled between you like a confession, carrying a weight that wasn’t immediately apparent. You could hear the unspoken truth in his voice, the years of calculating every move, every risk, every wager. The memories of a past where he’d been treated as nothing more than a tool, a piece on someone else’s chessboard.

Your chest tightened. You reached out without a word, pulling him close, wrapping him in an embrace that was as much for you as it was for him. Aventurine didn’t resist, his body folding against yours as if he had been waiting for that very moment of solace.

He exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders melting away under your touch. His head rested against your chest, and you felt his fingers grip you just a little tighter, his calm facade momentarily slipping.

“You’re too good to me, you know?” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin.

“You deserve this.” you replied, your voice firm but gentle.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Aventurine’s breathing grew slower, more even, but you knew he wasn’t asleep. The vulnerability in his eyes, the way he clung to you—it wasn’t just exhaustion. It was trust.

“Sometimes…” he began again, voice barely audible, “I wonder what it’d be like if I’d known this kind of comfort before. Maybe I wouldn’t have turned out the way I did.”

You hugged him tighter, your heart breaking at the rawness in his voice. “You’re not defined by your past,” you whispered. “You’re here now, and you’re loved.”

His fingers brushed your back, an unspoken thank-you in the way he touched you. Aventurine pressed a soft kiss against your collarbone, a gesture so tender it almost brought tears to your eyes.

“I’ll admit,” he said with a weak chuckle, “I didn’t think I’d ever get this. You make life feel… worth the risk.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand cupping his face. His eyes finally met yours, and in them, you saw a flicker of something rare: hope.

“You’re worth it too.” you said simply.

For the first time, Aventurine didn’t have a quick, witty retort. Instead, he leaned into your touch, letting himself feel the weight of your words. And for that night, the strategist, the gambler, the broken boy who had clawed his way out of the ashes, allowed himself to be held—not as a piece in a game, but as someone worthy of love and peace.