#trauma for the character development

[lestories]

"If I cannot be wanted, I will be needed and if I cannot be needed, let me be used until there's nothing left of me." - Dallon probably

Me: realizes I actually havent developed a character that much

Me: finds a piece of trauma to give them and calls it a day

[bittersweet-jack-of-no-trades]

Stanley is an absolute asshole and that's one of my favorite parts about him. Like yeah we can talk about his hidden heart of gold and whatnot, how he subtly shows his care for the kids and for his brother, but, like. He's still an asshole.

He has beef with multiple children! (Gideon and Pacifica, at the very least). And he has a reason--- defending his family--- but it's still beef with children! He regularly scams travelers out large amounts of money! He doesn't pay his employees! He insults people to their face! Even if he's doing it out of projection love, he still gives Dipper the short end of the stick, like, all the time. He opens a potentially world-ending portal just to get back his brother--- that's an asshole thing to do!

And this isn't a critique of Stan at all. But his churlish asshole nature is a beautiful part of him that makes him a really fun character. Being a good character doesn't = being a nice character. I'd even argue him becoming nicer isn't--- shouldn't be--- a requirement for his character development post canon. This is a guy who's yelling at other boaters over the radio. This is a guy who undoes your boat's drain plug 'cause you insulted his brother. Stan's a rude, penny-pinching curmudgeon that his family insists is nice deep down because he is--- to them. He don't give a shit about anyone else!

Let Stan be mean, dammit. He deserves it.

[viktorarcanedeservesbetter]

I feel like something that should have been explored more in Arcane is that despite the dangers and pretty much horrific conditions, Zaun children seemingly grow up a lot more caring and have a larger understanding of family in comparison to Piltover children. And if such a reflection of the real world in a sense.

The kids of Zaun seemingly grow up with a lot more adult support. Ekko is easily welcomed under Benzo’s wings. Vander adopts 4 kids (two of which we learn he knew of before their parents death, two of which we can’t be sure of). Silco, despite all what happened, and his ulterior motives, shows no problem adopting Powder/Jinx. In the alternate universe it seems as though he’s still played a part in the kids lives. Jinx adopts Isha easily and Sevika cares for her as well. Hell, even Mr. War Crimes Against Humanity does well with little Viktor (until ya know, the animal abuse).

Hell, up until Vander dies (the first time) there seems to be a large understanding of if there’s an orphan or a kid in need of guidance, take them in! (And certainly don’t inform them of your plans to turn a giant pink salamander into drugs and be confused when a nine year old doesn’t understand). If a kid wants to be your apprentice, let them! For the most part, until things all went wrong in the end of act 1 of season 1, the worst parts of Zaun seem pretty typical for any city in poverty.

Match that with what we see with how Caitlyn and Jayce grow up. Caitlyn is given adult support, yes, and it’s clearly a good adult mentor, but it’s not entirely by her choice. It’s been chosen for her. She’s safe, but there’s a lack of freedom of choice. Meanwhile, when Jayce gets older, and that same accident in Act 1 happens, the family that supported him and his mom turns their backs. His own mom doesn’t support him either, because she’s afraid of what he’s talking about, but also because he’s damming them to being outcasts.

Conversely, Vander is more than willing to take the fall for what Claggor, Milo, Vi and Powder did. He’s willing to go to prison for a long time, in order for them to have a better future. Despite Vi’s best efforts, he’s not going to listen to her (she is just a kid) and he’s not letting his family go down and get hurt.

Meanwhile, a man who grew up in this mentality, where there’s a wide sense of family support from people who aren’t your biological family, is the one to go to Jayce, a stranger, and tells him he believes in him. It’s why it’s such a shock to Jayce; his own family and family friends denied him. They didn’t support him.

I think that’s what makes all the difference. Piltover and Zaun have wildly different understandings of family and forgiveness. For Piltover, it shuns and damns the lives of those who upset the balance. For Zaun, it provides safety and never ending understanding.

Just. I’m thinking.

[monstatron]

BIG BOSS LADY

( obasi is a woman and butch lesbian that uses she/her & he/him ! )

some doodles of obasi with her coat, though admittedly, as impressive as her style is, her coat is like a shadow that still cascades her…

some additional yap about this is in the thread under the cut + bonus backstory doodle 🦍

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

obasi’s lore is reflective of some of my own experiences, which includes child abuse/neglect and cptsd. please proceed with caution and stay safe ❤️

mind my very incorrect grammar here lol

dubaku never wanted to be a parent, he enjoyed the illusion of parenthood, but after he lost gabi (obasi's mother), he realized how little he truly cared for family. much like how he raised obasi, he was raised to see family as something dangerous and draining, a chore more than love. so when obasi was born all he could think of was the blood he would shed for her that he did not want to shed. dubaku never wanted to be a father.

he didn’t want the life of a crime lord and he most certainly did not want a child to go along with it. he knew that in raising obasi, he would have no choice but to work until he died, so he chose to be miserable. he chose to hurt his daughter. he chose to make obasi feel all that pain and anguish in every neglectful action towards her.

obasi loathed dubaku as much and he loathed her, and in the end, she did not loathe him as much as she thought. in the end, dubaku is still her father and a part of her wants to love him, and that’s why she wears his coat when she grows older. his coat is the last semblance of some kind of love that vanished the moment she was thrust into his shadow.

deep down i think there’s still a child in obasi that wanted to see dubaku as her father and not a role to follow, she wanted to love him as family and not loathe him for the successful crime leader that he was. she wanted to carve her own path but had no choice but to follow his. and now, by the time the events of the main story happen, she’s about the same age her father was when he was murdered, and she’s filled the shoes she was destined to fill. but at what cost?

obasi’s coat is ultimately symbolic of the hatred, neglect, and pure malice that shaped her childhood. it represents how she is so deeply tethered to an instinctive love of her family but simultaneously, a boundless hate.

she wears her father’s coat like she wears her past upon her shoulders.

anyway im just tweaking over my own oc lore huzzah

[aventurineswife]

I was playing with my brother and something occurred to me, how Sunday, Feixiao, Blade and maybe Robin would react when they find out that the reader was a war general, if it is possible that they would see that the reader has many scars and when they ask him The reader tells them that it was a general 😭please 🙏🙏sorry if my English is bad

“Our scars make us who we are”

Tags: Blade x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Feixiao x Reader, Robin x Reader, Ex-War General Reader, Scars/Body Horror, Trauma/Emotional Struggles, Redemption Themes, Character Development, Healing and Growth.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of scars and trauma, Emotional weight, Mentions of past battles and loss, Mild body horror (scar descriptions), Discussion of violence and its aftermath, Mild angst, Heavy themes of guilt, regret, and self-doubt, Internal conflict and mental strain.

Sunday’s eyes scanned the room with a thoughtful gaze, a soft hum escaping his lips as he traced the lines of your scars. He was perceptive, attuned to the details that others might miss. His wings fluttered slightly behind him, the golden halo behind his head glimmering faintly as he stepped closer, concern etched across his calm features.

"May I ask," Sunday’s voice was gentle, almost soft as he regarded you, "What caused you to bear such marks?"

You met his gaze, your own eyes reflecting the depth of a thousand battles fought, the toll of a life lived in the shadows of war. You could see the weight of his empathy in his eyes, that yearning for peace mixed with a touch of sadness.

“I was a general,” you told him, your tone calm yet heavy with the truth. “War was my life. My scars... they are the remnants of battles fought, sacrifices made.”

Sunday’s gaze softened, his wings shifting as if to envelop you in comfort. He lowered his head slightly, the weight of your words sinking into his thoughts. His voice was almost a whisper, tinged with a quiet reverence.

“I see... war has a way of shaping us, doesn’t it? Yet, it seems a part of you still yearns for something more, something beyond all this...” His words hung in the air, as if he understood the internal battle you faced—one between your past and the hope of a future without conflict.

His eyes never wavered from yours, his thoughtful silence speaking volumes. He was processing, trying to understand you—your scars, your struggles—and perhaps, the possibility of redemption for a soul as burdened as his own.

Feixiao stood before you, her sharp eyes studying every inch of your form with the trained scrutiny of a seasoned warrior. Her head tilted slightly, and a grin tugged at the corners of her lips—both admiration and curiosity evident in her gaze.

“You’ve got a lot of battle scars,” she remarked, her voice blunt but not unkind. “What’s your story?”

You hesitated, the memories of battles past and the weight of your experiences surging within you. You could feel the pull of your old self—the general who had led countless soldiers, fought mercilessly for ideals now faded. With a steady breath, you met her eyes.

“I was a general,” you admitted, your voice steady but laced with the remnants of old pain. “I led armies. Fought wars that never seemed to end. These scars? They’re from a lifetime of doing what was necessary, no matter the cost.”

Feixiao’s expression softened, her usual brashness momentarily giving way to something deeper—respect, perhaps. She stepped closer, her gaze studying the scars on your arms, shoulders, and neck.

“War changes you,” she said, voice quiet for once, a rare moment of vulnerability. “You know that better than most. But those scars? They’re not just marks of violence. They show survival. Strength. It’s a lot more than just blood.”

Her eyes glinted with something almost like understanding, as if she herself had walked a path of battle and loss, albeit in a different form. She didn’t push further, but her silence felt like acknowledgment, as if she recognized that your past, your scars, shaped who you were now.

Blade stood tall before you, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed your scars with an intensity that could pierce through steel. He didn’t ask immediately, the silence between you both filled with the weight of shared experience—both of you, shaped by war, lost in your own ways. His eyes flickered to your face, reading the subtle shifts in your expression.

“You’re no stranger to the battlefield,” he finally spoke, voice low and filled with quiet acknowledgment. His gaze fell to the jagged scars that marred your body—each one a testament to the battles fought, the lives lost.

You knew what was coming before he asked, and yet, the words still hit with an undeniable heaviness. “What happened to you?”

You straightened, holding his gaze as you spoke, your voice unwavering. “I was a general. I commanded armies, led men to war. These scars are the remnants of decisions I had to make... and the cost of those decisions.”

Blade’s expression was unreadable for a long moment, his broken sword at his side a silent testament to his own shattered past. He didn’t recoil, didn’t pity you. Instead, there was a flicker of something like recognition in his eyes—something akin to a shared understanding.

“You’ve been through hell,” he murmured. “Maybe that’s what makes us both who we are. But what’s left for you now?” His tone was devoid of warmth, but there was something in his words that spoke to the possibility of something beyond the destruction, beyond the pain.

Robin’s eyes glimmered with quiet curiosity as she noticed the scars that traced your body, each one a mark of a battle fought and a life lived in the throes of war. She took a step closer, her graceful demeanor undisturbed by the weight of the conversation, but there was something in the way she looked at you that spoke of a gentle understanding.

“I can’t help but notice your scars,” she said softly, her voice like a melody itself, serene and soothing. “May I ask how they came to be?”

You paused for a moment, the memories of those you had led and the battles you had fought surfacing like ghosts of the past. With a deep breath, you spoke.

“I was a general,” you explained, your voice steady but tinged with a quiet sadness. “I led soldiers into war. The scars are reminders of the choices I made, the lives I impacted. They were a part of who I was.”

Robin’s expression softened, her gentle gaze never leaving you as she listened. She placed a hand over her heart, her eyes reflecting a sadness that mirrored your own, yet her voice remained calm and kind.

“War is a cruel thing,” she said quietly. “But even in the midst of destruction, there is beauty. You, in a way, have become part of that beauty—a survivor, a story told in scars. And perhaps, a chance for something more.”

Her words hung in the air like the softest of lullabies, filled with hope that perhaps, despite everything, there was still the possibility of healing, of peace, even for someone like you.

[soupdwelling]

the sheer amount of trauma gwen has gone through compared to the other characters (that we know of) in protocol so far is crazy like in archives they were all kind of dealing with the whole worm situation in season one (martin did get locked in his flat for two weeks and the others didn’t) BUT it was still a threat they were all generally aware of and affected by. GWEN on the other hand has so far had to deal with fucking mr bonzo, learning that she might be indirectly responsible for a gruesome murder, getting chased down by a tattoo gun-wielding fear avatar-thing?? AND is now getting terrorized by [ERROR] apparently and we’re ONLY 21 episodes in. meanwhile sam celia and alice are dealing with mild anomalies like ooooh spooky cases weird drowning person magnus institute oooh!! gwen is in the TRENCHES dude give a girl a break

[trappedinafantasy37]

[storyshift-sk]

PART 1/2 - Storytime!

Once Upon A Time… Things were great! Until they weren’t. dun, dun, dun

Every great fictional world starts with a history lesson!

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

Am I the only one who actually prefers the Araj confession from Astarion? I see so many people wax poetic about the “nice, simple plan” scene and how much better it is that I want to wax poetic a little about my favourite.

The first time I played BG3, I didn’t know anything about Astarion’s background and I thought he was a jerk. When I first ran into Araj at Moonrise, I was surprised that he wasn’t interested in biting her, but he gave his reasons and I was like, damn, okay, that sucks but I’m not gonna force him to do anything. He said no, so it’s a no. Then I moved on, and genuinely thought nothing of it.

When he hit me with the Araj confession at camp, when he explained how he felt in front of her and how easy it would have been to just grin and bear it and do as he was told, I started crying. Sometimes I struggle to even put into words the emotions it brought up — not the smallest of which was the realisation that I had had more respect for this video game character that I didn’t even like at the time than a lot of people had ever had for me, a real fucking human being.

So I love absolutely everything about that scene, from the writing to the performance to all the different ways it can play out. I know the other confession is more cute and sweet and romantic, but the Araj one held up a mirror to me and genuinely made me confront myself and change how I approach intimacy. Which is kind of an embarrassing thing to say about a video game romance scene but here I am saying it.

Because if this fucking rude ass pixel boy (affectionate) can learn to be honest about his needs and limits and have them respected, then so can I, goddamnit. And that will always be so much more profound to me than a nice, simple plan that fell apart.

[constantlytired101]

I genuinely can’t enjoy S2 music cause I immediately remember their context and it ruins the mood

[wardensantoineandevka]

sometimes I wanna talk more about Laudna and unpack how I personally was really disappointed after having some really high expectations of her and was really excited for an exploration of aspects of trauma and healing from it making you feel locked in place or the navigation of such a huge narrative event from a different perspective but how I ultimately personally felt her character was worse than incoherent, it was empty (hollow, even), especially under how Marisha initially conceptualized her as "over her trauma" and how that affected the way groundwork was laid

and sometimes I imagine talking about how even her mechanics are underwhelming when they could have done something interesting

but then I remember the worst I got harassed and the only time I was called a slur in this fandom was because I mildly remarked that maybe there's an interesting narrative to be had if she wasn't resurrected

so, I just waffle about it endlessly

[sombreset]

Saw another post w/ this picture of Morph and went to try and find it in the series, and it’s SUCH a blink and you’ll miss it moment (episode 3 after Jean gets through to Madelyne)

And I literally mean this shot of Morph in the corner is visible for maybe half a second and they don’t revisit this at all

In retrospect, I feel like they handle Morph’s PTSD with the sentinels and Sinister in more of an… obligatory fashion, rather than a gentle one? Like, Morph only is in distress in moments that I feel like the show writers went “oh yeah. Morph had bad times w/ this we gotta mention they’re upset because that’s their character,” but they don’t… stay with it ever? It’s almost always used to inform the viewer about something (what happened in TES usually), and never to go over HOW Morph is handling it these days.

What’s really messed up about this episode, is Morph already was distressed going into this situation because it meant directly confronting Sinister, as well as someone under his control (something they obviously have first hand experience with). Madelyne actually BRAINWASHES Morph briefly and has them attack the other X-Men, something horrible for Morph specifically, since this has happened to them before and is the main source of their trauma.

What’s the result of all this? Do we see Morph snapping out of it and realizing what they’ve done? Talking to Madelyne afterwards and making sure she’s okay? Anyone talking to MORPH and asking if they’re okay?

Nope, literally the aftermath of this scene is handled by a half second frame of Morph curled up in the corner in the BACKGROUND of a shot. I think that really kinda sums up how they handled Morph’s past in 97– obligatory, just part of the “motions” of the show. I dunno. I really think they could have handled it better?

[dovahbee]

[anxiousapplepie]

I'd like to think it's been literally 8 days between Loop disappearing and then reappearing in the OG timeline. 2 days per Traveler.

that is literally the funniest thing Loop could do and the amount of jokes you could do with that is insane and I love it (also very pleasing! 2 days gone for every roleswap!Traveler!)

[maybe-boys-do-love]

and thus, thamepo goes down as one of the best BLs in the history of the genre. not a single note.

[aventurineswife]

Seriously, I love your blog so much!! It's always a treat to read.

Anyway, may I have a scenario of boothill, aventurine, sunday, feixiao, and March with a memokeeper s/o?

Like, their first meeting was s/o snooping around in their dreams or living quarters for memories, and somehow, they got caught. Obviously, there was animosity at first, but s/o expresses genuine interest about their past and wants to unviel it. To let their past be seen and acknowledged. Whatever trauma they have and s/o just wants to comfort them after what they had been through.

Thank you and take care!!

Fragments of You

Tags: Boothill x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Feixiao x Reader, Memokeeper!Reader, Angst, Trauma, Slow Burn, Character Development, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Vulnerability, Emotional Support, Conflict.

Warnings: Mentions of Past Trauma, Mild Violence, Emotional Angst, Dealing with personal loss, Manipulative behavior, Internal Struggles with Past Events.

A/N: I'm so glad to hear that! I'm glad you're enjoying your time here!

The night was quiet, and the stars glimmered through the dusty window of Boothill's hideout. You had been sneaking around for days, lurking in his dreams, trying to glimpse the painful memories that burned behind his cold eyes. Your intentions weren’t malicious—no, you were a Memokeeper, trying to understand the tortured soul of the cyborg cowboy who seemed to fight not just for justice, but for something deeper. Something painful. But tonight, you were caught. The sharp crack of a metallic boot hitting the floor jolted you from your dreamlike trance.

"What the fudge do you think you're doin'?" Boothill’s voice sliced through the still air, his silhouette framed by the dim light of the room. His cold black eyes were now glinting with suspicion, yet there was an edge of weariness to them that made you hesitate.

You froze. "I... I didn’t mean to intrude."

His mechanical hand hovered near the grip of his gun, but his gaze softened ever so slightly. You could tell this was no ordinary man, and the weight of his pain was something you could feel in your bones.

"I ain’t no open book," he growled, taking a slow step toward you. "People don’t get to read me."

“I wasn’t... I wasn’t reading your memories like a book,” you said, stepping forward, your voice soft but unwavering. "I just wanted to understand. To know who you are beneath the fight."

Boothill didn’t say anything for a long time. His sharp features softened a little, his fingers loosening their grip on the gun. He stared at you, something like surprise flickering in his gaze. "Ain’t nobody ever cared to know," he muttered under his breath, as though it pained him to admit it.

"You don’t have to hide it. I’m not here to steal your past," you told him, your voice gentle. "I just... I want to help you bear it. Let me see it. Let me help you carry the weight. All that loss. All that rage."

For the first time, Boothill’s shoulders slumped, the hard edge of his posture faltering. His gaze softened, and he looked away, as though fighting the impulse to shut himself off from you.

"You really think that’ll make a damn bit of difference?" he asked, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than before.

You stepped closer, reaching out a hand, but you didn’t touch him. You didn’t need to. The offer was in your eyes. "I think it’ll help you heal. Even if just a little."

He remained silent for a moment longer before finally nodding, slowly. "Then, maybe it’s time someone knew."

Aventurine sat in his lavish quarters, a calm and confident smirk on his face as he enjoyed his latest victory. Yet, something felt off—a presence that wasn’t supposed to be there. You, the Memokeeper, had managed to sneak into his dreams once again. He was no fool, though, and it didn’t take long for him to notice the strange disturbances. His sharp eyes cut through the stillness, catching the gleam of your figure materializing in the corner of his mind.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Aventurine’s voice was smooth, dripping with mock curiosity. “A little peek into my private recollections? Surely, you’ve got more tact than that."

You tried to step back, but his voice had already caught you in its web. "I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy. I’m just... curious about you. About your past."

His lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. “Curious, you say? Most people would’ve run the other way. Few are brave enough to ask about the demons in my head.”

“I’m not afraid of what you’ve been through,” you said softly, yet with conviction. “I don’t need to be scared of your memories. I just want you to know that... you don’t have to hide them.”

Aventurine's eyes twinkled with a mix of intrigue and something deeper, something darker. He stood up, moving closer, his movements smooth like a practiced gambler’s shuffle. "And what would a Memokeeper like you want with my memories? You think you can just waltz in and dig them up, hoping to find something that makes you feel better?"

You met his gaze, standing firm. "I don’t want to just take your memories. I want to understand them. I want to help you see them for what they are—proof that you lived. That you’re still here, despite everything."

For a moment, Aventurine’s smile faltered. He wasn’t used to having someone speak to him like this. You could see it in his eyes—the vulnerability he kept buried under layers of wit and manipulation. "You really think you can comfort a man like me?" he asked, voice dangerously soft.

“I think everyone deserves to be seen,” you replied, reaching out, your voice warm and genuine. "Your past doesn’t define you, but it deserves to be acknowledged."

Aventurine hesitated for a moment, his smirk returning, but it was softer. Less guarded. "Fine. You want to know? Then let’s play your game. But you better be prepared for the stakes, sweetheart."

Feixiao stood at the edge of the battlefield, her blood-streaked gloves clenched tight, her eyes glowing with an intensity that matched the fires surrounding her. But the moment her gaze landed on you—a Memokeeper sneaking into her dreams—something shifted. The rawness of her memories was too much for her to bear, and the weight of her affliction, the Moon Rage, stirred. She was aware of your presence long before you stepped into her mind.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice stern, though the underlying exhaustion was apparent.

You froze, your heart pounding. “I... I didn’t mean to invade. I just wanted to understand you. To know what’s inside, what drives you to fight so relentlessly.”

Feixiao’s eyes hardened, her fox ears flicking in irritation. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?” she growled. “The Moon Rage. The beast that takes over when I lose control.”

"I have," you admitted softly. "But I don’t see a beast. I see someone struggling with something too powerful to face alone."

Her eyes flickered with something almost akin to shame, but it was quickly masked by a steely determination. “I’ve learned to carry this curse. I don’t need help.”

"You don’t need to carry it alone," you insisted, stepping closer, your voice gentle. "I know what it’s like to hide parts of yourself. But your past doesn’t make you weak, Feixiao. It makes you strong. And I want to help you see that, to bear it together."

Feixiao’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the tension in her muscles loosening slightly. "You think you can handle this darkness?" she asked, her voice quiet now, laced with something like fear.

"I can try," you said, offering a comforting smile. "And if it gets too heavy, I’ll be there to help you carry it."

She hesitated, but then, for the first time, a soft smile broke through her fierce exterior. “Maybe... maybe it’s time I let someone see the scars I’ve kept hidden.”