#tw: trauma flashback

[eeblueberry]

GirlThing* who will be having regular PTSD flashbacks in 6 months voice: "It so weird how I had a perfect childhood with loving parents and siblings. I wish I had trauma to explain why I'm Like This."

[psychocitysblog]

Why does being alive have to be so hard?

[cry-baby6]

[truths33k3r4]

(CONTENT WARNING!- Nightmares, medical-based trauma and situations! Panic!)

CHAPTER 10- Never Again

“Raphael.” Leo tightly warned, raising his hands onto the sides of his brother’s face. His normally calm tone plummeted into the negative degrees, replacing the warmth of brotherly concern with the chill of interrogation. Unfortunately, this was the only strategy that worked on his stubborn little brother. Kind, gentle words only added another brick to his growing wall of pride, coming off to the fiery sibling as demeaning and condescending instead of loving. The eldest deeply regretted how long it took him to realize this fact about his brother.

 It would have saved them both a lot of heartache growing up.

 Instead of getting lost in the past, he shoved his way back into the present, where his brother was shaking and crying, and not telling him why.

“RAPH. I am warning you- If you don’t tell me what’s going on in the next three seconds, I’m going to drag your shell to dad.”

Leo allowed a faint snarl to escape through his teeth, hoping that his go-to threat would work like always. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he would be physically able to haul Raphael to his father’s room- Despite how much the eldest had trained, Raph had always been faster and stronger. 

That didn’t aggravate the eldest in the slightest.

Not… at… all.

“I said I’m f-” Raph began, attempting to twist his head out of Leo’s grip, but the eldest’ hands remained planted on his brother’s face, snapping Raph’s gaze back to his icy irises. 

“You. Are. Crying.” Leo pressed in harsh whispers as he tightened his grip to emphasize how seriously worried he was becoming with each second. “You don’t do that. That’s not a thing that you do, and worse- you’re doing it in front of me… So…”

The eldest’s vice-like grip softened to a small caress, wiping away another escaping tear off his brother’s face. Leo’s harsh glare melted with the true warmth he felt for his hurting brother. 

“... I know something is seriously wrong.” He whispered with a gentleness his brothers all knew well. His breath shuddered as his hands slid from Raph’s face down to his shoulders. “You… were held hostage at some- s-some mad scientist’s lab for over two weeks, Raph… I have no… idea… what they did to you…”

Leo watched as Raph’s eyes kept overflowing with silent tears, reminding the eldest of a wordless history filled with pain and devastating fear that had been plaguing his brother for weeks. 

Leo couldn’t hold back the memories of finding his missing brothers at that horrible lab, rushing through the doors of the facility, maneuvering his way through the halls to the sound of screaming.

His brother. Screaming.

. . .

Don’s freckled face was nearly unrecognizable without his signature glasses and violet-hued mask. Those monsters had taken away all their gear- leaving them more or less naked and unidentifiable; Inhumane. Nothing but another creature for those psychos to study and pull apart… Not only had those heartless heathens stripped him down, but they had also strapped him down to the confines of a reclining chair via leather straps that painfully dug into his skin. 

Don’s expression began as listless while he focused on breathing through the pain of whatever vile concoction was being injected into his veins through an IV. But then a sudden realization sparkled behind his heterochromatic irises, and Leo nearly shattered into a million pieces when his genius brother locked eyes with him for the first time in weeks.

“R-Raph?...” The freckled brother shakily called, as he leaned forward, squinting his eyes.

The frail sound of his sibling’s plea for familiarity and safety sent an arrow of guilt piercing into Leo’s heart. Before another second could be wasted, Leo ran to Don’s side. With a quick shuffle into his belt, the eldest pulled out a pair of glasses, sliding it oh so gently onto his freckled brother’s face. Once Don’s breathing steadied, he looked up and lost his breath all over again. 

“Leo…” He gasped in between shuddered breaths. “LEO!!!” 

With the cry of the eldest’s name, Leo began to hurriedly disconnect all the equipment from his brother, who was now softly sobbing and shaking his head as if this was all just a dream. 

“T-This… This can’t be real…” 

Leo couldn’t even reply as he carefully began pulling out the IV from Don’s bruised arm with all the gentleness he could afford. Tears of relief and shame and love and sadness all poured from his face as he set right to work on un-doing all that had been done to his beloved sibling. He rapidly wiped away his tears as he reached behind to pull out one of his twin katanas. With a number of practiced swipes with his blade, all the straps that once held down Don fell to the floor. 

Now freed from his confines, Don arched himself forward, trying to push himself off the heightened medical chair. Slowly, and with Leo’s help, he finally had both feet on the floor, but not for long. As if a large gust of wind shot through the room, Don’s body began plummeting to the floor in an exhausted heap. As soon as Leo sensed his brother’s weakness, he swiftly sheathed his katana and reached out. Within a matter of seconds, he was on his knees with Don pressed tightly into his arms.

“I’m here! I’m here- I’m so sorry. I love you- I love you I love you-” He cried out, finally being able to say what had been on his heart for the last eighteen days.

“Leo…how…” Don quietly sobbed into Leo’s neck, smothered yet crystal clear, “How did y-you? H-how are you here? Are y-you okay? Did you… Did you find R-Raph?”

Leo winced in sympathy as he listened to the gravelly scratches carving their way painfully into Don’s throat with each word he spoke.

“Shhhh. Shhhhh.” Leo whispered into his brother’s ear, “You need to… to rest.” A whimper weaseled its way out of Leo’s throat, leaving his whole body shaking with emotion and adrenaline. He was supposed to be the foundation of his team; the stronghold that would protect his brothers no matter the costs- the firm walls that would keep his family safe from the cruel, outside world.

And yet here he was, dissolving into shifting sand in his beloved brother’s skinny arms. His facets of honor and maturity crumbled into broken shards of childishness as he let out a painful sob, finally unleashing a grain of the agony he had carried on his shoulders during the weeks of his brothers’ capture. The doubts and fears that plagued his sleepless mind were finally put to reassured rest.

Don was okay.

The stale air of the lab made Leo’s skin tingle with discomfort as he latched onto his little brother with all his might, vowing right then and there that he would never allow this to happen again. With a sense of determination he had not felt in some time, he pressed further into his brother, spreading warmth where only shadow and pain had touched. Each bruise and bandage littering his little brother’s skin was a testament of the eldest’ failure to protect those he loved.

Never again.

The moment was abruptly sliced in half as a blaring alarm began to scream.

~

Leo blinked. And there he was again, kneeling at Raph’s side, with his hands on his shaking brother’s shoulders. 

“It… It was a nightmare.” Raph simply shrugged, though his voice wobbled and shuddered like a glass cup during an earthquake. 

After wiping away the last hints of tears, Leo sighed with the tiniest glint of a smile.

Still playing the tough guy… But at least he’s speaking again.

Leo released one of his hands off of Raph’s shoulder and planted it onto his knee, steadying his own swaying form from the sleep he was currently missing.

“Do you want to talk abou-”

“-No.”

Before his sore legs gave out underneath him, Leo flopped down onto his butt with a somewhat content sigh, using his arms to hold him upright.

“Should've guessed…” He whispered as he slouched back. The smile on his face was still present, alighting the cold, dark room with a small ember of warmth. “Well… I’m… here when you’re ready to talk.” 

Raph turned his face to look down at his brother, silently contemplating Leo’s offer.

 The eldest would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt how cautious Raph was being around him. He’d noticed it for years, slowly watching as hour-long conversations after practice would turn into quick, hollow “hey”s before his fiery sibling briskly left the room. Late nights of reading comics and trying to catch their favorite movies on tv slowly lessened as Raph wanted to be by himself more. 

In all honesty, despite his own pride, Leo couldn’t blame him. He and the second oldest would get into horrible fights growing up. Every small conversation turned into a horrible argument. Any compliment had poison at its tip, sharp and designed to sting. And no sooner had those hurtful words escaped their lips, their fists began flying.

Leo once noticed, mid argument with Raph, that Don had carefully guided himself and Mikey out of the room. One more glance revealed tears falling out of his baby brother’s eyes, and a hardened, disappointed glare across Don’s face.

His and Raph’s actions had begun to affect his brothers. That’s when it became clear that something needed to be done.

So he and Raph just- stopped talking. Leo did his very best to back off unless necessary, and slowly over time their home became quiet again. 

But silence is a two-edged sword. What can be felt as peaceful can also be sensed as cold and apathetic; The natural quiet of a forest’s winter trails compared to the restrained hostility boiling under a volcano’s depths.

A cover-up. A simple bandaid rather than a full surgery. 

Not enough.

Through the years, Splinter had begun training Raphael in better handling his temper. Every day before practice, Leo would see Raph sluggishly dragging his feet into Sensei’s room, and through the door, he, Don and Mikey would listen in on some of the fiery brother’s lessons from their father. Splinter would guide Raph through his Bible, reviewing verses of pride, arrogance, and the need for love to be in the world. He then went over how important it was as christians to show Christ’s love to others. And especially, the ultimate need for that love to be in their home.

During that time, Raph wasn’t the only one Sensei honed in on. Seeing how Leo was half of the problem in the arguments bringing unwanted chaos into their home, he too had to be taught many lessons. The Bible verses his dad focused on weren’t very different from the ones he overheard Raph learning. Huh. Interesting. One specific lesson planted deep roots into Leo’s heart, leaving an impact that would be with him for years to come:

“Your love for your brother needs to outweigh your longing to win.”

And then… one day…

Raph appeared climbing down from the forbidden manhole cover with a shattered wrist and a bleeding crack chipped into his plastron. No matter how he was asked, persuaded, comforted, or threatened, Raph never told anyone how it had happened.

After that day everything began to change. 

And then about a year ago, he and Raph started talking again. 

Even now, as Leo looked into the eyes of Raphael as he finally calmed down from his panic attack, he could see the tenderness and healing within his troubled brother’s soul. Compared to the others in his family, Raph held the record for how many physical scars he had. For a long time, the brothers held him with the highest honor, as if he were a victorious war hero returning from battle… But Leo knew better now. The deep slash across his little brother’s eye was dealt by his blade. An accident, yes, but a permanent reminder of his past recklessness as a child; A lasting testament of who he could never be again.

As for Raph’s second scar- the small lightning bolt cracked into his upper plastron…

… Leo still doesn’t know where its origins stemmed from. And the fact that Raph had held that secret within, warns the eldest of unseen battles that were being fought behind thick, impenetrable walls. Battles he may have helped to fight, had he thrown down his own barriers.

Those times were long gone, and he would not squander the second chance God gave him.

Before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth again.

“Okay… New subject-” He said as he sat up and leaned his elbows onto his crossed legs. “...Maybe this will help get your mind off of your nightmare. If you could think of anything to geek out about to me- right now- what would it be?” He asked with an inviting grin to his more-than-cautious brother.

Raph’s confusion only showed through his expression for a few seconds before his eyes were looking to the side, pondering over Leo’s question. “Uh…” He thought, tapping at the blankets draped over his legs. “... I guess… How kids’ tv shows go too easy on ‘em.” 

Huh. Oooooookay.

“Alright! Tell me about it.” Leo gestured vaguely with his hands at Raph, waving them in swooping motions to propel his anxious brother to keep going.

Raph’s nervous expression returned, but he persisted through his anxiety, sitting up as well, and playing with the blanket fibers between his fingers.

“Well… you know… Nothin’ real happens in them. Like- Okay listen to this-” Raph said, as a miniscule spark ignited behind his irises and spread to his expression and posture, silently revealing that Leo’s plan was working. 

Leo nodded with a small, but growing smile.

“Tell me, oh Team Medic, what would happen to a person if they fell off a three story building?”

Leo sat back with a sigh as his brain began pulling out pristine files from its shelves.

“Um… my personal guess would be they’d have at least a broken ankle, if not a seriously sprained knee…” He listed, as he began counting with his fingers for each injury that came to mind. “...Possibly a concussion depending on how they handled their landing- and most likely a good amount of scrapes and bruises to the knees and arms.”

Raph nodded emphatically to Leo’s medical diagnosis, gesturing stiffly with both arms as if to say THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYIN.

“RIGHT. So- ya know- there’s a thing called uh, what was it again- CONSEQUENCES.” Raph shout-whispered, still keeping his voice small, but making sure his words made up for the lack of volume. “So, you tell me, how… does FRIENDSHIP save you from breakin’ your neck after falling off a flippin’ building??!!” He quietly roared. Somehow.

Leo had to stifle a chuckle as he watched his brother become as animated as the cartoon shows he was complaining about. It was hilarious to see such fire in his brother’s eyes that didn’t spark from anything occurring in the real world. 

“That… doesn’t make any sense, dude.” Leo attempted to speak, but was unceremoniously interrupted by a snort escaping his nose. “Gah-geez!” He hurriedly whispered to himself as he smacked a hand over his mouth to somehow smother his growing laughter at the situation. 

Raph’s passionate expression softened at the sight of Leo fighting for his life to keep the serenity of their bedroom so his little brothers can sleep. Then his kind smile crackled and sparked into a mischievous grin.

After what felt like an eternity, Leo had finally gotten his laughter under control, plastering a stoic expression over the small gusts of laughter still tucked away in his throat. But all that hard work was blown to oblivion as Raph began to cross his eyes and flare his nostrils. Before the eldest could stop himself, another snort shattered the peaceful silence of the room.

My one weakness- THAT LIL BRAT-

In utter defiance and revenge, Leo thrust himself forward onto his knees and slapped Raph’s arm in playful, empty warning. With a hushed hiss he chittered,

“YOU STOP THAT THIS *SNNRT* THIS INSTANT, YOUNG MAN-”

“Ya mean turtle?~” Raph winced as he rubbed at his slightly stinging arm.

Then the brothers went silent as they took a single second to think. At that moment, they pointed to the other and whispered simultaneously, “ Mutant.” And then they were both fighting for their lives to not wake their brothers.

Despite their best efforts of shushing each other, smacking their hands over the other’s face, and trying to regain stoic countenances which always backfired, they were quickly interrupted by a meek, worried voice.

“Don?” 

Raph and Leo’s laughter was snuffed out instantaneously as their immediate instinct to protect their brothers pushed past any humor with full force. 

“Mikey? What’s wrong?” Leo asked with a slightly raised voice since Mikey was in the bunk above Raph’s bed. “Why are you calling to-” 

Leo’s sentence fell away into the shadows surrounding the bedroom as he gazed at Don in his bunk bed, cradling his head between his clenched hands. Shaking.

“Don?...” Leo asked, again raising his voice since Don’s bed was further away. At his call, the freckled brother turned his head slightly, the glistening of tears shining as they fell in threads down his face. 

“DON!” Leo outwardly cried, no longer attempting to remain quiet as the newly revealed emergency played out right in front of him. He pushed off his knees and used Raph’s mattress to propel himself off the floor into a quick sprint across the room. By only running on instinct to protect his brother, he didn’t have to think as he effortlessly leapt over the spare mattress and climbed up the ladder to Don’s bunk, landing in what Mikey would call a “spiderman pose”. 

“Is he okay?” Raph called from the ground, as Mikey briskly flipped off the side of his bunk, landing perfectly, and rushing to Raph’s side.

Leo suppressed a deep groan.

Mental sticky note- REMIND MIKEY to not risk damaging his ALREADY HEALING ANKLE.

With a disgruntled sigh, Leo turned his attention back to Don. In the moment he had, he ploughed through the medical checklists he could think of, assessing what was wrong with his genius little brother. However, it was clear without any medical expertise that Don was having a panic attack.

Him too?... What is going on?

Suppressing his growing questions, the eldest reached out his hand and placed it on Don’s trembling knee. Over the years, Leo found that physical contact worked as a solid anchor for his frightened brother; a grounding force that would pull his mind away from the fantasies that plagued his logic. Don had explained to him that when someone was having a panic attack, they were losing themselves to the lies in their mind. In order to remedy this and pull them out of it, they needed a firm foundation of truth to stand on. 

“I’m alive.”

“I’m not dying.”

“I can feel my heartbeat.”

“I can hear my breathing.”

“God is with me.”

“I’m safe.”

Leo stretched forward to place more pressure on Don’s knee.

“You’re alive, Don. You’re not dying.” He spoke firmly.

“Mmmhmm…” Don grunted as he shakily lowered his hands from the sides of his head, and slid them down to the nape of his neck, pulling down with constant pressure.

“You’re home. You’re not alone. I’m right here.” Leo pressed further both verbally and physically.

“Y-Yeah…” Don breathlessly agreed, as he tried to take a deep, calming breath.

“Whatever you saw wasn’t real. It was just a dream, okay?” 

Don’s expression twisted at those words, and he stuttered, “That’s.. n-not true, L-Leo… It… wasn’t as m-much a nightmare, as it was a m-memory…”

Leo’s own expression fell at Don’s fragmented words sputtering and glitching like a tv set trying to hone in on the right signal. He hated seeing his intellectual brother so shaken like this. Don had never been one that needed to fight his own body just so he could speak. Normally his rants and logistics would smoothly escape his lips, coming out clear and precise in neat rows filled with elongated vocabulary. 

Only one thing would have stolen that from him; something so scary and traumatic that it would resonate and affect him now.

“You dreamed about the lab, didn’t you?” Leo whispered at a volume barely audible as he slid closer to Don’s now relaxing form. He lifted his hand from Don’s knee onto his shoulder, but still kept a grounding pressure.

Don, once again at a loss for words, simply nodded his head defeatedly.

Not needing any more confirmation of Don’s condition, Leo pulled himself closer and held out his arms. Don had to know the option was there if he needed it.

At first, the freckled brother simply stared at Leo’s outstretched arms, as his pupils zipped back and forth in consideration. Then after he properly reviewed his options, he gently shook his head. “I think I’m okay now.” He sighed, gripping onto the soft, fur blanket over his legs. “I’m… okay.”

Leo nodded in understanding before he was forcibly pushed to the wall of the nook as Mikey and Raph joined him on Don’s bed.

“Don, ya good?” Raph asked in genuine concern for his twin, searching his brother’s expression and body for any wounds. 

Don nodded with an exhausted but real smile.

“Are you sure?? You were crying, bro. Last I checked, computers can’t cry.” Mikey playfully nudged Don’s arm, but the smile on the youngest’s face read of no ill will. “You want to talk about it?”

Don’s smile fell a little as he made eye contact with Raph, and both twins sighed in mental understanding. 

“I think he’s alright now.” Raph spoke up quietly, as he started pushing Mikey onto the ladder. “Let’s give him some space, Mikey.” 

Despite the youngest fighting and squawking in obvious displeasure, Raph remained persistent and continued down, pulling his little brother with him. Leo couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“...T-Thanks, Leo.” Don whispered, as he stretched out and placed his hand onto Leo’s arm. “I really… appreciated this.”

Leo’s smile brightened as he tapped his hand onto Don’s. The cool texture of his brother’s smooth skin brought its own wave of comfort to him, reminding the eldest of a truth he had unknowingly taken for granted for years:

They’re home.

Before any more tears decided to fall, Leo wished his brother good night and slid down the ladder, making his way back to his mattress, saying one final, silent prayer.

Thank You, Lord, that my brothers… are home. Thank You that they’re here and safe. Please continue to guide them as they recover from their time in the labs. Please guide me with what to say to them. And…

 Thank You for giving me a second chance.

Aaaand that's it for this chapter!

Man alive, it feels so good to be back. This chapter took a while to figure out because of the scenes with Leo and Raph- There were many options that I had to choose through over how Raph would react to Leo trying to calm him down from his panic attack- but this version won out in the end. :) To quote a very important Book, "Laughter doeth good like medicine". So I knew how I wanted this scene to go. :) As has been a running tradition in this book, there is a lot of hidden storytelling in this chapter~ Especially regarding Leo and Raph.

Feel free to reblog and share!

BIG THANKS TO @poetique823 FOR YOUR HELP!!! <3

@indieyuugure @writer-in-wonder @allyheart707 @oddartistl3 @risebabyx2 @joyjoygorl @carrots-bear @imagionationstation @howtotrainyourdragonprince @jasminegazer @brightonstudios @ninjaturtlefan-dee @rottmntlover14

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, comment down below!

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[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

[irlangelsdiary]

just a shoutout to any survivors <3

i see you.

i hear you.

i know its hard

i know some days are more difficult then others

but i also know you are strong, and brave.

i know you are going to get through this

i know you are going to heal

i know it will take one day at a time

but i know you will heal

we will heal

we will live without our trauma ruining us, we will love ourselves, empower ourselves and laugh and heal and one day it wont hurt as much.

one day.

[blitzwhore]

Tell me why I just spent an hour of my night imagining what would happen if, during the trial, it was revealed in front of all the Goetias that Blitz caused the fire, and Blitz was present, and he got really really triggered so he ran outside and Stolas followed him and found him cowering in a corner.

And then Stolas tried to touch Blitz, but Blitz hissed and hid his face, and so Stolas asked, “Darling, can I hold you? Let me hold you...” and very carefully rested his hands on Blitz before pulling him very close, at which point Blitz buried his face in Stolas' chest feathers because he couldn't bear the thought of Stolas seeing him break down like this, but he also agonizingly craved the the physical comfort.

And so Blitz just cried, and cried, and cried, feeling like he was about to die and he couldn't breathe past this and he was falling apart. And Stolas held him through it, not knowing what to do, just rocking him slowly and holding him tightly while Blitz sobbed and gasped for air, whispering over and over again, “I'm right here, I won't let go, I've got you, I'm not going anywhere.”

And eventually—after many minutes—Blitz's sobs died down, but he was still crying, just silently now, heavy tears rolling down his cheeks as he breathed Stolas in and tried to regain some semblance of control over his body. Still feeling terrified, still so, so scared that Stolas would let go of him and he would break.

Stolas didn't let go, though, and just kissed the top of his head over and over again, running his fingers up and down Blitz's back, trying desperately to comfort him. And eventually, Stolas said, “I didn't know... I had no idea...” not knowing how to finish those sentences. And, after hiccuping and fighting to catch his breath, Blitz mumbled “I—I—” but he couldn't form a single word without breaking down. So Stolas said, “It's okay, dearest. You don't have to talk about it,” but Blitz replied, “I-I want to, but I—I can't.”

And then Stolas said, “You could write it down... Would that help?” but Blitz just shook his head against his chest feathers, arguing that, “I would just m-misspell everything. I—give me a moment.” So Stolas did, holding him tight, not letting go, never letting go, and Blitz, after several seconds of trying to speak and failing, finally managed a muffled, “I was...” And then, after a few more moments, “I-I was in love with him.”

And Stolas didn't say anything—just let that information sink in heavily in his heart, that Blitz had been in love before, with someone else—and waited for Blitz to continue. “W-With Fizz. I was—I wanted to—t-to tell him. On his birthday. But I couldn't. I—” And Blitz sobbed again. “I chickened out, and pushed the guy carrying the cake, and the candles—they—”

And Stolas thought... Oh. The fire. That's how it started. His arms tightening around Blitz again, pulling him close as Blitz went on, “And Fizz was right by the fireworks when they went off and he—a-and—”

“Oh. Oh, Blitz,” Stolas rasped out, tears welling in his eyes as he took in the horror of what Blitz was describing, of causing such a horrible accident to happen. And Blitz hiccuped against his chest, his fingers digging into Stolas' sides as he held on to him with wild desperation, and said, “A-And my—my mom—” but couldn't continue, breaking down into sobs again as Stolas rocked him back and forth, back and forth, cheek pressed against Blitz's head, crying silently at the horror of what Blitz had been through. Whispering, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, darling.”

And Blitz clung to Stolas, feeling like he might die if Stolas let go now, feeling like even this much touch wasn't enough, like he needed to crawl inside Stolas' chest, needed to be held so fully and overwhelmingly in order to not feel like he would disintegrate at any second. But, at the same time, he felt completely unworthy of this; of Stolas. “I'm a monster,” he sobbed. And again, “I'm a monster.” And Stolas pulled him desperately closer, saying, “You are not a monster, Blitz. It was an accident. It was a tragedy, it was horrifying, but it wasn't your fault,” needing Blitz to believe it.

But Blitz couldn't, shaking his head, crying, hating himself. Hating the all-encompassing aching in his chest that made him feel like he might die from it.

“It wasn't your fault,” Stolas repeated. “I'm so sorry, Blitz. I'm so sorry this happened. I'm sorry I found out like this.” Cradling him back and forth, back and forth. “I'm sorry. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm here.”

And it was true, Blitz realized. Stolas still hadn't let go of him. His body started to believe it. He still wasn't ready to let go, though. But that was okay with Stolas, who wasn't going anywhere. No matter how long it took, he would stay with Blitz, and hold him through it.

... Aaaaand I had no idea how this mental scene played out after that so um. Bye!

[psychocitysblog]

I hate it when someone says ‘what you’re feeling is all in your head’ yeah, if you went through some of the shit that I went through, you wouldn’t be saying that.

[ink-bunny2]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (you are here) | Part 4

hey so what if (Diaries) Gene was the one who tortured Laurance

[arlecchinasmainblog]

More Epic Angst

It’s the middle of the night and shouting can be heard from the king’s chambers.

“Get your wretched hands off of me! I am done enacting your vile fantasies!”

It’s happening again.

“Odysseus, my king, my love, it is I, Penelope.”

But he couldn’t recognize that. Not now anyway.

“You are not! You are not! Cease veiling yourself as my wife you evil witch!”

Despite his wife’s gentle words, he couldn’t see her as he rocked in the fetal position; squinting his eyes shut as if he were a child hiding from an imaginary monster.

“Why must you take joy in tormenting me! I just want to go home! I just want to be home!”

The poor man cried in vain. And all his wife could do was weep. For she could not help her husband escape the prison of his confabulated captor. She could not free him from the prison of his own mind.

[burned0utstar]

It feels like I am going to burst, my emotions eat me up from the inside out, they scratch open my ribcage, eating at my heart and mouth and skin, it feels like acid running down my throat and out of my ears, I am bleeding and screaming and crying.

Help.

I can't get it out, I am being ripped apart and you can't stop this, all anyone can do is watch and suffer. I deserve this, if not, why would it happen?

Life isn't fair, it isn't kind, but who would do this to a little kid if they didn't deserve it? I have to be bad, because if I am not, I am broken.

Let me forget please.

I want to be whole again.

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 7 - Imprinted

(CW- Nightmares, trauma, vomiting, flashbacks)

Lotus woke with a thrashing gasp, the air in her lungs stolen by another nightmare. Her hand shakily rose to her plastron as she tried to calm her pounding heart. The echoes of the monster’s threats slowly faded from her mind, but the adrenaline and fear still loomed over her like an inescapable smaug. The dream still had its hold on her, morphing reality as it saw fit. Shadows seemed to come alive as their claws shot out from the darkness. Every wall sprouted eyes and began to close in on her. Her stomach twisted in discomfort as she fought to forget her dream, closing her eyes and reminding herself again and again that it was over. 

“I’m fine… It’s… It’s done..” She choked, still trying to regain her purloined breath.

Once the ghostly chorus of the phantom completely faded, she wearily opened her eyes. Everything had returned to normal, the shadows creeping back into their crevices awaiting the next time she would try to sleep. All the eyes had vanished from the walls. The room had stopped shrinking.

Before she could slump in relief her gut twisted again, making her wince as the discomfort only grew.

That’s weird… 

Lotus was fully aware of the repercussions of nightmares on her body. There were times she would wake drenched in sweat or shaking. Other nights she woke up so tense that her body physically ached, forcing her to stretch out her tight limbs and loosen up before attempting to sleep again. But this was different. Normally the discomfort would soften as she calmed herself down, the turbulence of her racing heart slowly returning to a steady beat. But this… this wasn’t normal.

The throb of discomfort only continued to grow, forcing Lotus to clutch her arms around her torso. Her stomach grew more and more tight, as the sharp pangs squeezed whimpers out of her lips. Nausea crept closer.

This isn’t good… This ISN’T GOOD.

She scrambled to think back to the last thing she ate, but came up empty. The last few days were a complete blur, smeared together in a mishmash of memories that left her with no decipherable answers. 

Seems this is becoming a recurring theme in my life.

Her bitter thoughts took a screeching halt as her stomach lurched.

Panic came flooding back into her heart in an instant as she shot her hand over her mouth in a feeble attempt to contain what she knew was coming.

No no nonononono!!!

With as much strength as she could muster, she frantically pulled herself upright. She could feel the acid quickly clawing its way up her throat, cutting off her gasping pleas for this new nightmare to cease. 

And as per usual, she quickly found that she had no control.

In a split second attempt to spare Leo’s mattress, Lotus jerked her entire body off the bed, landing hard onto the grainy tiles below. The impact of her fall sparked a terrible ache to ignite in her still healing leg, but the pain was quickly thrown to the back burner as the vile taste of acrid fumes filled Lotus’ mouth. Her head swayed as dizziness overtook her.

She closed her eyes in a tight wince as she shakily braced her hands onto the ground. Not a second later, her stomach’s contents disguised as stinging lava splattered over the floor, sealing her fate.

I’m sorry… I’m sorry! I’M SORRY!

The imprinted instinct to run and hide from her shame grew with each embarrassing second, but her limbs refused to carry her weight. In order to keep from landing face first into the mess, she used her swaying form to roll her body to the side. Once again, her head rang with the impact of hitting the floor, and her leg screamed at the rough treatment. Even with the remnants of acid burning her throat and nose, she couldn’t hold back crying out from the pain.

Her hands clutched onto her thigh, squeezing hard to hopefully stint the agony quickly spreading throughout the incision site. Tears began streaming down her cheeks as she pictured how pathetic she must have looked lying on the floor next to her own puke. The fact that she couldn’t listen to her instincts and hide made things so much worse. 

She was trapped, pinned down, and at the mercy of the first person through the doorway.

Her fears were made real as she heard the rush of footsteps come racing towards her. 

They can’t see this!! I… I can’t let them see this!!!

It’s just another mess for them to clean up! I’m being such a PAIN- They’ve been so nice and THIS is how I’m repaying that kindness?!? 

By becoming a hindrance?? A pest? 

What a way to say “thank you”, you charity case. 

Her bitter tears burned alongside her stinging throat as she hid her face into her shoulder.

Pathetic.

The racing footsteps finally made their way into the bedroom, and Lotus’ stomach squeezed as they raced towards her. 

Her mind was overtaken by the cold voices of her past.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??”

“UGH, DISGUSTING.”

“SEND IT TO DR O’NEIL, IT’S SICK AGAIN.”

More tears streamed down her cheeks as she braced for the same reprimands for what she had done. She tensed her body awaiting whatever punishment her captors saw fit.

“LOTUS! What happened?!?” Leo’s voice cried out as gentle hands were placed onto Lotus’ trembling shoulders. At the physical contact, her body let out an unavoidable flinch, bringing out a startled gasp from the oldest brother.

“Lotus.. What’s wrong?” He whispered as he drew back his hand.

“Are ya blind? She’s sick!” Raph yelled exasperatedly, but Lotus could sense little glints of concern hidden behind the fiery brother’s tone.

When she finally turned her face towards the brothers, she caught sight of Don frantically leaving the room. From what she could see of his expression, his face looked as though he was… afraid. Her sight was quickly brought back to Leo and Mikey leaning over her, asking her a multitude of questions that blurred into a cacophony of frantic voices. Once Leo caught on that she couldn’t understand what they were saying, the eldest slapped a hand over Mikey’s mouth. With the racket of panic silenced, Leo sighed and started over.

“What is going on? Are you in any pain?” He spoke as calmly as he could, though the facade wasn’t as effective thanks to the worry etched over his face and tense posture.

Lotus wanted to shrivel up and die. 

Before she could attempt to cover up the fact that she was indeed ill, her body once again reminded her of who was in charge. Another searing zing shot up her leg, and she had no choice but to cry out as she squeezed tighter to the offending limb. 

“Well, there’s your answer.” Raph flicked his hand gesturing to Lotus, “Come here, we’re gettin’ you off the floor.”

“Careful with her leg!” Leo warned, as Raph moved to pick Lotus up. “Hopefully she didn’t pull any of her stitches…”

Lotus’ stomach flipped at that horrifying thought. 

If she had pulled some of them, Leo would be forced to re-stitch her wound. That horrible experience was one she never wanted to relive. Her mind briskly reminded her of the pain she had felt at that moment in time, the prick and pull of the needle, and the fear that had forced her body to be sick.

Please, NOT AGAIN.

Another whimper squeaked out from her as Raph lifted her up, resulting in the fiery brother looking down at her in concern. He made sure to move extra slow so as to not reignite the pain in her leg. It somewhat worked. 

“Careful- Careful!” Leo hurriedly spoke as he ran to check on Lotus’ incision. “Alright Lotus, you need to hold still, okay? Don’t move- I just need to check something real quick.”

Swallowing down the urge to shudder at the familiar words, Lotus cried a silent prayer pleading for there to be no damage to her stitches.

Agonizingly slow seconds crept past as she waited for Leo to speak. To distract herself she tried looking around the room again, identifying the vast diversity of colors and textures strewn about the room; The dark crimson wall of Raph’s nook, the bright splotches of blues, yellows, and oranges on the wall underneath Mikey’s bunk bed, and the patterns adorning many articles of clothing haphazardly dropped and thrown across the room. 

The distraction helped a little. Her heart cautiously returned to a normal beat, and her mind began to empty out all the panic that had plagued it. She took a slow inhale and then let it out, allowing her head to carefully lean onto Raph’s plastron. She could hear his heart beating from under the hard, natural armor, and she leaned further as she let its steady rhythm overtake her anxieties. 

“Okay,” Leo began, making Lotus jolt out of her dazed stupor in an instant, “your stitches seem fine.”

If she could, Lotus would have jumped out of Raph’s arms and danced. But seeing how she was still weak and pathetic at the moment, she settled for just letting out a sigh of relief, dropping her head back down onto Raph’s chest.

“Now.. can you explain why you were sick?” Leo spoke as he gestured to the spot where Lotus had thrown up. Mikey was already finished cleaning the area on the floor with a slight grimace on his face. He gathered the used paper towels and threw them in the trash bin Don was holding.

Lotus’ brows creased as she noticed how pale Donatello looked. He held the trash bin an arms length away from himself, and his face twisted with way too many emotions all at the same time. His eyes remained strictly focused on the furthest wall as he was led by Mikey out of the room.

“Lotus? LOTUS!”

She twitched as her attention was yanked back to Leo, the eldest’s eyes drawn into tight, interrogative slits.

“Why. Were. You. Sick? Are you okay???” Leo asked with a hint of annoyance camouflaged under his calm tone.

Lotus shook her head to knock out all the interrupting thoughts clouding her mind, as Raph gently placed her onto Leo’s bed.

“S-sorry, Leo… I’m… I’m not sure why I’m sick.” Lotus’ voice was quiet and strained, trying to be careful of her still burning throat. It also didn’t help that her leg continued to pulse with deep aches, causing some words to cut off in sharp grunts or gasps. “My… NGH! My stomach h-hurts…”

“Alright- That’s okay!” Leo gently spoke, the annoyance quickly being forgotten as his question was finally somewhat answered. He held out his hands in a steadying gesture. “Do you think you were allergic to the crackers Mikey gave you earlier?”

Huh??

Lotus’ pained expression twisted again, not in discomfort but in confusion.

“W-What are you talking about? I didn’t eat any crackers.” She spoke in mild, whispered bewilderment, “At least… Not that I can remember…”

She turned her head to peer at the side table next to Leo’s bed. There was no plate or crumbs anywhere, so most likely she was never given a snack, right? Unless the dishes were taken away?.. But wouldn’t she have remembered that?

Am I missing something here????

She turned to face Leo again, but froze when she noticed his expression. His irises had shrunk to half their usual size, and his breathing caught in his throat. He joined his hands as if he were about to start praying, but his eyes remained wide open.

“...Are you telling me…You haven’t eaten anything all day?”

Lotus didn’t mean to shrink under Leo’s accidental scrutiny, but the eldest’s gaze was becoming more and more sharp by the second, and she could only withstand his “Mom glare”™ for so long.

“...Um…” Lotus squeaked under the growing pressure of Leo’s glare. She turned her gaze to Raphael in a desperate plea for support. The fiery brother refused to be helpful in the slightest, simply shrugging and holding his hands in mock surrender at Lotus’ pleading expression.

 She tried to gulp down the pebble stuck in her windpipe.

“...No?...”

Leo’s head instantly dropped onto the tips of his praying fingers with an exasperated sigh.

“Mikey…~” He groaned under his breath.

“Aw, come on, bro.” Raph mumbled to himself.

Confusion still twisting her features, Lotus was grateful to finally have Leo’s glacier glare off her, but she still had no idea what he was talking about. 

Her stomach twisted again, and all the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

“... I was supposed to eat before I took the pills, wasn’t I?”

Leo kept his face down as he groaned, “Yes.”

Lotus grit her teeth as she fought to keep her composure, her face scrunching into a barely contained snarl. Anger began to burn inside her, draping the shadows of doubt and bitterness over her heart once again. 

Here she was in the same situation as before; A victim of careless caretakers.

Nothing has changed.

I am such an IDIOT.

“That’s why I don’t feel right? It’s because of you? Again?!” Lotus’ voice grew in volume and venom with each accusation spat. “What is wrong with you?!?! WHAT WAS IN THOSE PILLS??” She yelled, as her hands whipped to point at the side table.

Leo’s head shot up as his hands separated, rising in placating surrender.

“N-no! It… it was an accident! Mikey was supposed to bring you something to eat so you could take the painkillers, but… he got… distracted. Something kinda…” Leo began to taper off as his shoulders rose stiffly. 

“...Came up.” Raph finished in a grumbling tone.

Lotus flung her arms in the air as an empty laugh erupted out of her snarling teeth. “Oh yes! A lot of something definitely came up.” She pointed to her aching stomach to prove her point.

Before Lotus could react, Raph had already stepped in between her and Leo, his arms tightly crossed, and his eyes in a piercing glare.

“HEY. You don’t know what happened back there.” Raph intervened, his low voice imitating a growl of warning, “Like Leo said, it was an accident. He’s not perfect, no matter how hard he tries to be.”

Leo’s whole body tensed after Raph’s words, the eldest’s expression flashing from fear to surprise to hurt.

Lotus unconsciously cowered at the sudden presence of Raphael’s towering form. His shadow looming over her brought back many unspeakable memories to light. She fought hard not to whimper or hide, but the fear lashing at her core stung and bled. The memories of a monster distorted her view of Raphael, smearing her reality with the darkness of her past. 

“Hold still, creature.” 

The searing anger burning her lungs and clouding her mind vanished as the ghost of Lotus’ past hissed all too familiar words.

“No. Get away!” Lotus cried out as she shielded her head with her arms. 

She had nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere that was safe.

There was no haven that could protect her from the memories.

She was trapped all over again.

“I’m sorry! I’m s-s-sorry!” She whimpered into the crooks of her arms.

A beat passed as she waited for her punishment.

“Lotus… Is it alright if I touch you?” A kind voice asked, shining dim rays through the smaug of memories.

The voice was unlike any she had heard in the labs: Kind, soothing, gentle… But it wasn’t female like the good doctor. Its tones were lower, smooth like the facets of a diamond, and radiating with warmth.

Her instinct told her she could trust it.

Another beat passed as Lotus shakily nodded her head. Soon after, she felt the cool scales of a three-fingered hand land on her forearm. She winced, expecting the hand’s grip to tighten and yank her away. 

Instead, it delicately pulled down her arms.

 Her glistening eyes widened as the ghost before her vanished in the warm rays of the bedroom. As her last tears fell, the blurs of green, red, and blue morphed back into Raphael and Leonardo.

They looked so worried.

Leo’s face had fallen into a horrified frown, and Raph looked as though he had just accidentally ran over a puppy. Their expressions filled with concern brought a soothing confirmation to Lotus that they weren’t her old doctors. They couldn’t be.

Because they looked as though they cared.

She looked down to see Leo’s hand still placed on top of her forearm. There were no scratchy squeaks of latex, no icy grip, and not even five fingers. No one was tying her down. No one was cutting into her.

Instead, she felt a soft warmth emanate through the contact of Leo’s fingers on her skin. The grip wasn’t tight, yet it was still grounding. 

It felt so foreign and so right at the same time.

Emotions began to clash inside her, her past and present fighting in a mighty battle to gain control. Distrust and bitterness clawed at the growing rays of hope. Fear and trauma bit and scratched at the faded hands of peace.

Lotus took a leap of faith.

“I’m sorry. I-... I just… I h-h-hate feeling like… like t-this…” Lotus whimpered as all the fear drained from her body, taking her strength with it. “I’m.. I’m sorry, Leo.”

The corners of Leo’s mouth perked into a kind grin as his icy irises melted with compassion. Raph simply closed his eyes and nodded his head, his expression turning stoic, but not lacking sympathy. Lotus could still catch his concern peeking through as he stayed close to her bedside.

“It’s alright, I forgive you.” Leo spoke softly, as he delicately squeezed her arm. His smile grew the tiniest bit more when he saw that she didn’t flinch. “ And I… can’t blame you for being angry. I just should’ve brought you the snacks myself. It was my fau-”

Before Leo could finish his apology, his words were cut off by Raphael gripping the lip of the eldest’s shell, and yanking him forward so they were face-to-face. Leo let out an indignant yelp at the jarring motion. Raph poked an accusing finger into Leo’s plastron, rumbling in a tone that left no room for argument.

“-You say it’s your fault again and I’ll pelt you in the head with the back of my sai.”

Leo’s face flushed in an instant as he sputtered and squirmed in Raphael’s grip. 

“RAPH! Nghhh.. P-Put me DOWN!!”

As confused as Lotus was as to why the brothers were arguing, she made no attempt to ask. Even though she had gotten more than enough sleep in the last… Day? Days? Her body still ached, resulting in another large wave of exhaustion dragging her consciousness down further into the expectant darkness of sleep. 

Her eyelids began sinking…

Her thoughts fizzled out like the dying flames of a candle…

Just as her eyes closed and darkness filled her vision, a chilling presence emerged from the shadows, beckoning her to follow it deeper into the black of her nightmares once again. 

“-NO!” She gasped breathlessly as she forced her body to jerk upright.

Leo and Raph instantly stopped their tussling, whipping their heads in the direction of Lotus’ distress. Raph let go of Leo and they both drew closer to Lotus’ bedside, asking her what was wrong and why she was shaking.

 Her answer came in a frail voice drowning in terror and hopelessness.

“I’ll…I’ll never be free.”

Aaaand that's it for this chapter!! Now you're all finally seeing more of Lotus' perspective in this story. Some of her true colors revealed themselves in this chapter, as well as some answers about her past. And now we'll all see how the brothers will handle this broken girl. <3 This was one of my darker chapters, as you just read it focuses a good amount on Lotus' trauma, and how her captors created her view on the world and herself. This will be the base of her arc in this story.

Also, you probably noticed I only posted one illustration with this chapter. This was on purpose, cause I wanted to leave room for you guys to create your own picture of the scenes that occur in this chapter. :) Whether it be through your imagination or through fanart! This also helps me to not have as much work to do per chapter, so I can get more chapters finished and posted for you all faster! :)

Hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to reblog this!

BIG THANK YOU to @poetique823 for giving helpful critiques and suggestions with editing the chapter!! :)

@writer-in-wonder, @allyheart707, @oddartistl3, @risebabyx2, @joyjoygorl

(If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, just comment down below!) :)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[literally-forever]

i was on my third rewatch when i noticed you can hear Charles pleading with his dad underneath the noises of the Devlin murders

[terrence-silver]

Formally requesting a follow up to your married-to-his-high-school-sweetheart Twig story where he finally reunites stateside with his beloved. He gets a bit carried away in his need to convey just how much he's missed her? Maybe it gets a bit dark as he wants to possess her so deeply that no one questions their relationship again?

(You know me, there are really no boundaries on my end, so take this where you will!)

The story is a continuation / expansion of this post right here.

---

Momma Back Home Ran Out of Ink

Twig!Terry Silver x Reader

—

The limousine rushes from the airbase, his chauffeur hitting the 180 miles per hour mark.

He just about didn’t care who saw — who gawked — the image of him leaving in big style like this, his uniform the only thing lingering on him from the flight back home alongside the boxed in beige parcel on his lap — his luggage long since having been sent where he wanted it sent, meanwhile; all your letters, correspondence, pictures, perfumed paper, tokens collected from nearly three years overseas where with him. The first thing he asked for upon release to base and the one thing that stuck to him like a second skin after he was out of the cage was every bit of devotion showcased in written form; Terry Silver was only seventeen when he married you, before being deployed, technically needing parental consent to do so, and of course his old man fought the idea. Of course he waged war, of a different kind, at home, yelling and shouting until the walls practically shook, wagging his bejeweled finger and listing all the requirements of what a potential partner should be, what the acceptable age is, how life should be lived, our own kind of people being words dropped frequently, like a bomb, and Terry recalled that being his first bit of checkmate, telling his father that if he gave his consent he, like a good son, would compromise. He wouldn’t go off to the war and do something stupid and endanger his own future, like all the supposed lowlives did --- boys without prospects other than being live canon fodder were doing and the minute the signature was on paper and Terry had you secured and his, he left anyway.

He laughed then even as he was laughing now, into his own chin, all the way to the airfield.

That was then, his first ever victory.

And this was now.

And now? In the present? He needed you. He needed you badly.

Almost two years in the bush and there were nights where he’d secretly slide his hand into his green fatigues while laying in the sack during patrols, the scented envelope your letters arrived in pushed into his boxers and wrapped around his cock as he rubbed it on the tender flesh there, up and down, envisioning your fingers and lips wrapped around him instead, not minding the chafing sensation of paper on his skin. Quite the opposite; he found the slight discomfort exhilarating, cumming against the material and the itching sensation of pain, holding back groans, stashing the soaked, stained remains away and saving them for later like a lucky charm. Thing is, most of those punks never believed he was married back home in the first place, the same way his father never thought he had the guts to go against his word. Terry wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way, because it meant none of them would ever ask for your picture, never ask about you, never hassle him, never even contemplate you, convinced you were a fragment of his imagination or he despised it for being doubted. Looked down on. Underestimated. It was poetic justice when one of them would rip your newly arrived letter from his hand, jumping around like a rabid ape, giggling and reading your words aloud to everyone only to step on a landmine a week from then, losing the very leg they were jumping on in a state of mockery. Momma back home ran out of ink, they’d call it, whenever the letters were late. Somehow delayed. When they were on time, they’d say momma was diligent, writing to her son as per schedule, prodding and poking at him; it was this running gag, that his mother was posing as wife to make him look good out here, in front of the boys.

Those were the nights he wanted to kill.

Simultaneously the nights when he’d squeeze the collected envelopes of your letters harder.

Tighter. The pace vigorous and angry. Desperate.

Scrunching them around his dick until he could feel himself bleed.

-"So, married man, huh?"-

John Kreese remarked on one occasion, sitting beside him in the busy canteen, giving him a broad smile, seemingly eager and warm, the type someone gives you when they’re honest — genuine — regardless, Terry instinctively braced for more mockery, having been used to it by now. Desensitized in ways. Kreese fished into his pocket, lowering himself into the chair beside him, pulling out a photo of his own, tapping him on the back with a big, heavy hand with a gesture sudden and firm enough to be felt in Terry’s spine, John being almost twice his size where muscle mass was concerned. -"Right on!"- A sense of congratulation in his voice and Terry remembered sitting there, surprised. The picture offered to him. A girl. An introduction. Like they were equals. Two brothers. Not even his own father gave him such a welcome sensation after he’s gotten hitched; quite the contrary. He’s threatened to disown and disinherit him. Which he would’ve done too if he simply he had in who’s favor to disown and disinherit him. -"This is my Betsy. My Pasadena girl."- John explained with a twinge of visible, twinkling pride and Terry held that photo between shaking fingers, feeling his own mouth partially fall agape. Acceptance? This was acceptance, wasn’t it? A way of saying ‘I believe you, friend’. All the more reason then, for him to rush home now, in John’s name, in his own, and fuck you, on the foundation of everything that he lived through in Vietnam. The news that Betsy died. That you, on the other hand, were alive and well, and that he should push himself inside of you so deep you feel him in your bloodstream, precisely because you weren’t taken from him. That Captain Turner wasn’t announcing that you were the one who wasn’t alive anymore, during that fateful night when the bamboo cage sprung open and they were handpicked and led outside.

The car comes to a sudden halt and you’re already on the front porch, eagerly waving.

Waiting for him, having got his call, hour, date and all.

His cock twitches in his trousers at the sight of you as he rushes out, slamming the door behind him.

-"Terry! Sweetheart! Baby!"- 

Your arms open towards him, he doesn’t even know when he’s managed to cross the street that separated the parked vehicle from your house by a narrow road, but it’s one of those things a man does in a trance, he supposed. Instinctually. Naturally. The body didn’t need reminds to breathe at night, while it was asleep. Organs didn’t give out while he was dreaming. Having nightmares. Thinking of you. They’d just seamlessly continued to do their own thing, without reminders needed. He figured it was the case now. Terry ran to you because nothing in the world could’ve made more sense. Your soft hands encircle his face, holding his cheeks, gaze scrutinizing every feature riddled with the sheen of warm tears. You speak, exasperated, and he’s heard your voice before. In the sound or rifles. Gunfire. The rare quietude of the night. Nothing beat hearing it live, like piecing together a puzzle from memory. -"Terry, you’re here!"- You speak through gasps, like you couldn’t believe the sight of him. He changed. He was aware he changed. Internally. Externally. In every way possible. The widening of your eyes testifying as to how much exactly. He supposed he did it for himself. For you. For all the people who ever doubted him to the degree they’d fail to imagine him a married man because they couldn’t reconcile he had it in him, leading him to go to Korea after the war and take even more time away from you — make that ultimate sacrifice of discipline and willpower if it only meant how he’d look the part of everything he started being convinced he could be. -"Let me look at you!"- Your stare riddled with happy tears travels up and down his uniform in shock once you release yourself from an embrace he’s reluctant to break — allowing you only so much breathing space, backing you further away from the front yard, the lawn and further up the porch, causing you to walk backwards. Too happy to notice it too. Terry wasn’t looking at his surroundings. He was only looking at you. At this point, a car could’ve pulled up from the roadside and he swears he could’ve stopped it with desire and power of tenacity alone for daring to interrupt him. -"I swear, you got taller somehow! They've been feeding you good out there!"- You chuckle out, trying to alleviate the situation, observing his head and reaching back, finding a wisp of hair tied at the nape of his neck, tenderly tugging at the strands, needing to stand propped up on your toes to even touch him.

Quite the contrary to your endearing, adorable statement; you couldn't even imagine half of the things he was forced to eat 'out there', as you put it so poetically.

He grins at the fact.

He'd much prefer eating you, though. Right now.

 -"This is new too. I like it!"-

You remark, a smile revealing a row of teeth behind a pleased lip, eying his locks.

 -"It’s just like you described it!"-

You add, twirling a curl of hair around your finger and he unwittingly thinks of Ponytail. From his letters, you assumed the tied, long hair was simply a fashion choice, but Terry doesn’t allow himself time to fall behind any longer and get distracted by explanations, hoisting you up without warning, there and then on the sidewalk and lifting your body up, towards his shoulder, eliciting a jolted cry of surprise from you as he balances you by grabbing unto the back of your hips, right beneath your buttocks. He doesn't linger. Ponytail wouldn’t want him to linger either, in fact. Ponytail would want him to fuck your brains out right about now, regardless of the fact that he frequently believed getting married at seventeen is either some Redneck nonsense or Waspy nonsense, never anything in between. You either had to be trailer park destitute or richer than God to be pulling things like that, he'd theorize. Terry nearly cackles at the idea, beaming at the recollection. -"You like it, huh?"- He remarks with a contented hum, sauntering in wide strides towards the house, practically carrying your body forward, his nails digging into the flesh of your ass, feeling the tender skin there through the fabric of your clothes and underwear. It takes a cosmic amount of self-control not to throw you against the front porch wall and screw you right against it, in view of the entire street, letting everyone who accidentally caught ahold of the sight that you’re his. That he did it. That it was his fucking right to do this. You were his wife and he was consummating his marriage. 

The front door slams shut behind him.

He puts you down, cornering you against the nearby wall.

When the buttons of your blouse snap scattering across the floorboard, with each rolling and tumble of the fasteners disappearing under chairs, tables and cupboards like so many ants, Captain Turner’s voice echoes through his mind.

-"So help me God, you got us into this shit, and you’ll pay for it."-

His grimace flashes before Terry’s eyes, obscured by the shadows of the canopy.

His fingers unbuckle his belt like they had a mind of their own, seeking your warmth.

Your cunt hidden underneath layers of fabric.

 -"I’ll make you pay for it, kid."-

His familiar voice repeats and rumbles inside of his brain and Terry isn't certain what way he'd rather fuck you, trying to quell the noise inside of his head, yet simultaneously embracing it gladly, hoping that in some weird way, everyone he was intrusively remembering could hear him. See what he was doing right now. That they were witness to it, as they should've been, as he was getting ready to claim you and preform for each and every one of them, including you, purely so they'd all understand this was real. This was his wife. He was having her. A big collective 'screw you' to the very lot of them --- every doubter in his life so far. He grabs you underneath your hips, effectively lifting you up and spreading you, up against the wall. Thank fuck for the practicality sundresses, because your whole wetness falls open like the most delicious treat inside of a wending machine, the scent of you salty and pungent. Delectable. Soaked and obscured by the thin fabric of your panties. He could see exactly where you were split. Yearning for him. It's child's play to dig into the material and rip it open right in the middle, exposing you for him. You shriek. -"Those bozos out there will seem like a kitten in comparison and by the time they walk through to get you, you’ll beg them to finish you."- His commanding officer had the tendency of saying, moving as close as the tightly confined space of their shared cage allowed back, believing in equal measure retribution as he threatened him, even though Terry knew it was more than a threat --- it was a promise. The buzzing sound of his radio station alerted the enemy to their position out in the wild, endangering the whole platoon and the only reasonable conclusion was for the unit to take the matters of justice into their own hands and ensure clumsy little Twig pays dearly for his negligence. Code Red. Extra judicial punishment. The idea that he isn't safe outside of the cage as much as inside of it. That his own compatriots would make him suffer as much as the Gooks would've and that it would've been John and him against all of them. But, he was here. He was alive. He was devouring you.

-"That little missy of yours? Swear on my heart and hope to die, you ain't never seeing her again except in the front pews while they put to rest whatever's left to ship home of you of you and your ass."-

Turner threatened in his thoughts and you moan, lashed with velvety hot licks.

Hips bucking against Terry's mouth.

The thought of seeing you again was the chief reasons why he felt he survived.

To have someone tell him even that will be taken away from him?

He wondered how he stayed sane. If he was sane at all.

Sane? What was sane anymore?

-"I still own whatever's left of you and your ass."-

The words come out of his mouth of his own volition, repeating lines he's heard before, halfway paying homage, halfway mocking his commander's statement. Lines address for him initially. Reframing them. Causing you to moan from above him once his mouth separates from the slick moisture of your pussy. -"When I'm done."- He adds, once he catches his breath, letting you slide down against the surface of the wall right back into his embrace, not giving you too little or too much pleasure, rather just enough to make you suffer. You huff, breathless, hair falling over your forehead shiny with sweat, mouth partially open in delight, partially on the precipice of inhaling oxygen, like you were on the verge of saying something while he was feverishly massaging your slit with the tip of his cock, easing himself in. He's grown in every way he could. Even his cock would need time to re-adjust to your cunt. But, he knew you'd like that. You'd like that very much. He would too. -"I know this isn't the right time, Terry, but your dad --- he's called and called and called. Almost every day. I just think you should know. Even before we were told you were MIA."- You practically gasp your words once he's inside of you, rocking back and forth --- there was something very amusing, remising about family mid-sex, but admittedly, he barely gave you time to properly greet him after such a long time being away and so much shit he had to get through to merely come back alive, practically hoisting you up and carrying you inside, never even giving you time to say too much. -"And what did you tell him?"- Terry practically purrs, inhaling the scent of your neck. -"What did my hole tell him?"- He corrects himself, allowing himself to laugh. So? The old man did maintain some contact with the only daughter-in-law he'd ever get. He promised Terry he'd never utter a single word directed your way. Clearly, it was a short lived promise. The same way the threat that pa' would disown him if he went to 'Nam was. Funny how people tended to capitulate in strange ways when faced with someone who took the matter of agency into their own hands.

His father told him to leave the whole Karate-Vietnam business behind too.

And then he went and bought John his first dojo, as a gift.

What was the old man gonna do about it?

Get angry twice?

-"I told him the same thing every time."-

You mutter into his ear with what sounded like infinite tenderness.

Gentleness peppered with the shadow of desire.

-"That deep down, against all odds, I know you're okay."-

Terry looks at you then, separating himself from the precipice of your throat riddled with kisses that he was certain would bruise red by tomorrow, You knew he'd be okay. You knew? You told his father that? Even if he wasn't okay and had to come home in bits and pieces he'd drag himself back tooth and nail. John wouldn't let him fall behind. He'd carry him out there on his back and Terry knew that much. That's why you and him were the two most valuable people in his life. His best friend and the woman who deserved to live inside a returning soldier's locket forever as a memento. Still inside of you, Terry takes a second to tilt his head and smile. He's been doing a lot of that lately. The palm of his hand pressed against your cheek. If anything, you killed his father with kindness, believing in him when nobody else did and keeping the faith of his return even in the face of adversity. If anything, you showed your complete and utter quality. Your devotion. The very idea nearly made him salivate. The things he wanted to do to you bypassed imagination and description right about now, but Terry starts with the practical aspects of it all, grabbing the elastic lace holding the two cups of your exposed brassiere and tugging at it hard enough to allow the ribbon to snap, coming undone, exposing your chest, allowing the top to slide down, limp, lacking support. You gasp. He's had waking dreams about your tits. Imagine them every time he set his head down on any makeshift surface that could double as a pillow. But, now? He finally had the real deal, reaching out, and kneading with both hands. -"It's good my little robot's been so diligently answering the phone and taking care of correspondence."- He praises, tugging at your firm nipples --- one and then the other, listening to your breath hitch at the contact. What conversation happened happened; now that he's home he'd make use of the marital bedroom the right, proper way, holding nothing back. After all, you and him had all the time in the world now. Terry's arms envelop your waist, dragging you forward with him, down the corridor, never taking his eyes off of you. Your color drains from your face once he speaks and he didn't blame you. In fact, all of this was deliberate. He didn't know if he meant his words figuratively or literally anymore.

-"Considering this is only just the start and we're not leaving that room until you're wrecked and dead."-

Terry hums with deliberate provocation and lulling self-satisfaction.

Trapping you in an embrace, stripping pieces of clothes from you and himself.

Or rather, ripping --- slamming the bedroom door once you were inside.

Leaving the abject chaos of the foyer floor behind.

[witch-hazels-musings]

reel me in 

warning: angst -> comfort | fighter!reader and character are sparring but when reader gets pinned to the ground, they recall a traumatic event (non-specific, but hints at a near-death experience from past fight), and start to panic - the characters calm them down and bring them comfort (tw: pinned to the ground, feeling of being trapped, anxiety and difficulties breathing, sparring leads to panic)

character x gn reader | request | anthology 

includes: childe, kaeya

Childe

“Is that all you’ve got?” You cried out through heaving breaths. Every muscle in your body was screaming from the onslaught of blows, but it made you feel alive. Fighting Childe was like wrestling the sun - and you were obsessed. 

Childe straightened, turning back toward you with a grin so wide you knew your taunt would get him going. The way his eyes flashed in the sunlight, the shimmer of sweat on his shoulders, biceps made your heart flutter. It was so exciting - the heat of battle - no wonder Childe loved sparring so much. 

“You want more?” He beamed, stalking toward you, slowly, meticulously, his eyes trained on you as if you were prey in the woods. “Then don’t hold back. Let me see it all!” He roared as he dashed your way. His water-blade crashing against your two daggers. Sending a shockwave through your arms. It hit your chest with so much force that you pushed against him, sliding on the dirt to reposition and get a better angle but he was ready with another swipe. You barely ducked out the way in time. 

The match was heated, invigorating. The two of you lost yourselves in the midst of it all. Egging the other on, laughing at the thrill, pushing until something was certain to break. You just didn’t expect it to be like this ... didn’t expect it to be you. 

With expert skill, you dodged away from his swing. Twisting your foot and leg leg so you could roll over his back and slip into the tiny opening he left, but when you landed on the other side of him, his leg swiped yours and you fell, hard, onto the dirt. The force knocked the wind out of you. A rock punched against your shoulder making your arm go numb for just a moment, but long enough that he could take full control. 

His hands grabbed your wrists so you couldn’t swing at him. Faster than you could comprehend, he had you pinned. Disarmed with your hands under your arching back, he held you captive. 

Shaking your head didn’t relieve the fog, struggling only made it worse. The sweat on your brow stung your eyes until you could barely make out his figure. Then, it all came flooding back. 

“Now that was fun,” Childe panted above you, his hair clinging to his forehead, his cheek, but you could hardly see his familiar, comforting face. The past was crashing into you, and you couldn't’ breath. 

“G --- et off ---” 

“Don’t tell me you can’t overtake me. Hah, you’re better than that --” Childe teased but you weren’t having fun anymore. Panic started to set in, your heart was beating erratically, out of rhythm and control. You shook your head, thrashed just like you did once before - yet nothing changed, just like ...  “... and we were just getting sta-” 

“G-GET OFF!” You screamed. The words came out strangled, fearful. Childe let you go and you scrambled out from under him. Your nails digging through the dirt in a frantic escape. “get off. get off ...” You groaned, crawling free from him until there was enough distance for you to catch your breath. 

“Woah, are you alr-” Childe’s words caught in his throat when you turned to sit on the ground, arms coiled around your legs, hands shaking as they hid your face from him. “Hey --” he called to you. Calmly, softly, but you didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. In your mind it was still happening, and you needed it to stop. 

Everything was turned to maximum. Every sound, every smell, every sense in you stung. Your mind was on fire and you couldn’t calm it down. Something touched the fingers digging into your leg so you violently swatted it off until your hand came to a stop and your itching eyes found the reason. 

Childe was kneeling in front of you, his expression twisted to one you’d never seen before. His common smile was turned into a deep frown, brows furrowed and eyes were searching you intently. His jaw clenched, the hand holding yours looked pale. 

Still shaking, you wiped your eyes and he slowly came back into focus. This wasn’t your past, you weren’t about to die alone, beaten, bloodied - you were safe. You were safe. 

In an instant, you twisted your hand to grip his wrist and held on so tightly that his arm began to shake.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, head shaking to return to your senses. The noise was starting to fade; you took a few more breaths to bring it back to normal. 

“You went somewhere else on me ...” 

“I know -- I’m sorry,” you apologized, swallowing to wet your dry throat. “I’m alright now.” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing, I promise. It’s ... it’s nothing,” you pressed your fingers to your forehead and shook again, mostly to work out your nerves, but the action didn’t convince him you were okay. 

The dirt around you crunched, grinded against itself as he moved toward you. When you glanced at him under your salty fingers, you noticed he was blocking you with his long legs. One at either side as if to be a human shield. 

You sighed, and tried to get him to ease off, “I’m really okay -” 

“A warrior must be ready to face any challenge,” he began, cutting you off as if you never said them, “In victories or in failures, the outcome is irrelevant - what matters,” he said as he tugged your arm and pushed against the hand blocking you from his sight. You moved them only enough so you could see his eyes, and he could see yours, “what matters is learning from the experience. You are here to fight again. You survived - no matter what it took to do so.” 

Childe’s gaze was intense, his words pierced your heart making it difficult to breathe again but he was right. You survived. You were here and that’s what matters. 

Your lips trembled, so you adjusted your grip on his wrist and held tightly.

“I survived,” you whispered. 

“You survived.” 

“I survived,” you repeated and covered your face while Childe shielded you from the rest of the world. 

-- 

Day’s later you shared with him what had happened and he listened without judgement. You noticed how he incorporated some new moves into his training with you - ones to avoid the mistakes of your past and then, without prompting, on a warm summer night, he told you of his own and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone. 

--

Kaeya 

“Pick it up!” you shouted to the knights as they ran through their drills. By this point they shouldn’t be so sloppy, but it seemed your expectations for them were too high. 

Groaning, you turned the other way and began to clean up the training grounds. Practice swords, spears, and other equipment were left on the dirt and even though you weren’t the only one tasked with training the new recruits, you knew your partner wouldn’t be much help. 

“How’s it going, teacher?” Kaeya’s silvery voice slipped through your annoyance like water passes through a fisherman's net. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t in the mood to hear it. 

“Fine. Here,” you said and handed him the pile you’d managed to pick up while he was standing in the shade, “Take these back to the racks for me.” 

“My, what a cold temper you have,” he teased. Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew he held a smirk on his lips. “And here I was coming over to congratulate you on all your hard work.” 

“Ha,” you huffed. You were starting to wonder if Jean was mad at you. Why else would she ask you to work with this ... this ... slacker. He may be pretty, and you, stupidly, had a crush on him, but why was he always so ... aggravating. “If you’re not going to help me, at least don’t stand by sidelines watching. It creeps me out.” 

Kaeya picked up the pace so he could match your strides. It was easy for him with his long legs and all. “I thought you loved when my eyes were on you?” 

Luckily you were already so irritated. If you weren’t you probably would have been more affected by his comment, “Nope. Not me.” 

“Really?” 

“Mmhm. Ugh,” stopping suddenly, you shouted toward the recruits to come back but when you glanced back at Kaeya, he was just standing there, smiling. “Are you going to help me with the demonstration or not?” 

“Why of course,” he beamed and you wanted to punch him. 

“Good. Grab us some swords and meet me in the circle.” He gave you a playful confirmation before walking off toward the racks. 

Why couldn’t you have fallen for someone else? You asked yourself as you headed toward the panting new knights to explain the next portion of their training. It wasn’t the first time you had them spar with each other, but this time you were going to be demonstrating several moves they needed to learn in order to stay alive. As much fun as being an aggressor is, if you didn’t learn how to block or dodge oncoming attacks - well, the research institute was working on some new mechanical prosthetics if they needed it.

Once Kaeya returned, you had him demonstrate several jabs so you could show them how to avoid. After that, you had them mimic you as you moved out f the way of Kaeya’s swings. It was almost like a dance, the two of you, and it was starting to draw an unnecessary crowd. 

“Shall we show them in real time?” Kaeya inquired with a smile, “They are unlikely to fight slow moving assailants after all.” 

You weren’t really planning on doing that, but he was right, so you relented. “Alright, but don’t throw out anything fancy.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he hummed, getting into his stance. 

“Alright - watch us closely and count how many times I use the moves we just showed you. Got it?” The knights nodded so you got into position. “Let’s go.” 

Lunging forward, you made the first contact and Kaeya deflected it easily. He reacted faster than you planned with a counter swing that you had to narrowly block with the edge of your wooden sword. The noise rang out across the training ground drawing an audible gasp from the crowd. 

The two of you started simple but eventually lost yourself in the spar. Kaeya moved like a skater on ice and you danced along with him. The feeling of the wind rushing past your face as you dipped under his swings, when you swirled past him to get the advantage. It was a blast, and reminded you why you fell for him so hard. 

Kaeya might be a slacker, but his swordplay was flawless. 

You wanted to bring it back to focus but Kaeya was distracted and before you knew it, your guard was too far down to catch his next move. Like a flash of lightning, he was in front of you one second and behind you the next. Your weapon swung up to block a blow to your chest but you were off balance and fell backward as he had intended. Before you could taken in a breath, Kaeya was gripping your arm and twisting it behind your back while his play sword rested against your neck and his cheek pushed against the side of your head. 

“Got you,” he declared and pulled you closer to him. You were captured, and it distorted your reality. 

It was like you fell into a deep pool. Your body went cold, your mind triggered every alarm it could as you wiggled against him to get free but he was having too much fun to notice that you were clearly not. 

“Kae--” 

“We certainly put on a show,” his voice drifted past you but you could hardly hear him. Waves crashed against your senses, deafening the world around you. It felt impossible to catch your breath, even when you gripped your shirt and pushed against Kaeya’s arm. Something hit your foot so you stumbled forward only to be reeled back in. “Leaving so soon?” He asked and you panicked. 

“L-let me go - let me go - let! go!” Fear and violence overcame you until you were finally free from his grip. The edges of your vision were so dark that all you could see was the building in front of you, the confused expression on his face as you turned to face him, the bobbing blobs in the distance as you tried to call it for the day. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. All you could feel was a sense of dread and your nails biting into the flesh of your palm. 

Kaeya dropped his weapon. You watched him turn to the crowd but couldn’t hear what he was saying. You just stood there, lost, back in that place you never wanted to visit again. 

A cold hand grabbed your balled up fist and, like magic, you were in Kaeya’s office with no recollection of how you got there. 

Someone called your name. Who was it? 

Touch, the sensation of skin against your cheeks. Hands - someone's hands. Whose hands? WHOSE HANDS!? 

You flailed your arms to push them away but they didn’t leave until you could hear the voice of Kaeya calling your name. 

“... do you hear me?!” he shouted, and you did. You did. “You’re okay! - it’s me. It’s me.” 

“... Kae...?” 

Kaeya’s head dipped forward when you recognized him. “There you are.” His tone was tense. When he looked at you again it was like he had aged since you last saw him. He shook his head and moved his thumbs under your eyes. 

“What happened?” you asked, confused and disoriented. One minute you were out on the training field and another you were in his office. Did you black out?

“I was hoping you could tell me.” 

“I don’t -- I don’t know ...” looking down, you tried to assess what was happening. Your body felt worn, exhausted. Your fingers were curled in and stiff but they weren’t like that originally. Right? Why was there sweat running down your spine? Confusion was soon replaced by worry but Kaeya was there to catch you. “Kaeya - I don’t remember --” 

“It’s alright,” he reassured you by grabbing your hands and holding them steady. You could tell he was contemplating what to do. You’d known Kaeya for so long. He was always so confident, so playful but right now he seemed afraid to even touch you. “It’s alright,” he said again and took a step closer, but not too close. He sighed and then explained what happened. Perhaps he hoped it would make you feel more in control or, perhaps, it would give you the knowledge you needed to understand why you vanished in front of his eyes. 

He was right. As he explained the sparring match and what happened moments before you panicked, you knew exactly why it had happened. 

In training, you are taught how to protect yourself and your fellow knight. You know the dangers of the job but you can never fully grasp the severity of it until you’re there - face to face with life and death. This was your hidden scar. One you didn’t intend to let others see. 

It took a while, but you slowly started to share what had happened. Kaeya listened without questions, without jokes. He just listened, and when you were done he didn’t give you pity or tell you it was in the past. He simply offered his hand and vowed to leave it open for you whenever you needed it. 

“You’ve always been around to lend me a hand. It’s due I return the favor. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here with you to carry on,” he affirmed and though he couldn’t heal the space left in your chest, his words made it a little lighter. 

“Thank you, Kaeya,” you replied, squeezing his hand like he was yours. “I guess this means you’re stuck with me?” It was meant to be a joke to lighten the mood, to bring back his teasing but it seemed to backfire. 

“Well that’s an odd way of proposing to me.” 

“I wasn’t proposing --” 

“You weren’t?”

“No ...” 

“Ah, a shame then,” he lamented and let go of your hand to walk toward the door. You followed him, watching how he leaned against the closed door with a sorrowful expression on his face. 

“W-wait, did you want ... me too?” 

“We will never know now will we?” He threw up his arms into a deflated shrug but made sure to keep a sharp eye on you and your slowly rising embarrassment. “Best not keep them waiting, teacher,” he smirked before walking out of his office and leaving you, once again, flustered. 

--

[miss-morgans-lover]

James, who has flashbacks/nightmares about the cave collapse, and struggles in small spaces

Tyler, who has nightmares about his dad leaving

Shelby, who has nightmares about disappointing her parents

Koda, who has nightmares about his 'death'

Ivan, who has nightmares about being trapped and struggles struggles in small spaces

Kendall, who has flashbacks/nightmares about her childhood and struggles with academic validation (HC)

Phillip, who doesn't want to disappoint his parents

Chase, who has nightmares about actually hurting his friends when he was mind controlled

Riley, who has nightmares about not being able to win against Fury again