#What Happened to You

[wr0wn]

Pain breaks the rhythm

[independentmother]

Learned Trauma

I often wonder how much my learned safety habits my son learned from me. At one time they got me through traumatic events. They still linger onto my body consistently comforting me, letting my mind and body know that I am Ok. My body trying all so hard to bring my stress hormones down to a more reasonable level. Only now I see my son doing the same things I know all to well. Wondering if it is his body doing the same thing as mine, or did he learn it from watching me. Not knowing he was learning from my trauma.

At night he would sleep with pillows blankets and stuffed animals sometimes so many I wondered how he fit. Only falling asleep if he had one of our cats to sleep with or to exhausted from his day. Sleep would hit him as fast as his head hitting the pillow. I would wonder if it was from all those years only being able to fall asleep with hm in my arms. My learned safety mechanism to know that nothing would happen to him while I was sleeping. Never sure of what the drunk sweating body next to me would do next. Or was he just a kid and it was fun to sleep with so many things, like The Princess & the Pea.

At the end of his school day he would find comfort in creating his own little bubble, normality in the living room. He old play with his toys on the side of the couch, write story’s or work on making something for the cats all with a show consistently on in the background. Was this a trauma or something that just worked for him.

As a kid I would often shut myself in my room all day. I would make my bed into my bubble and draw for hours with a tv show on in the background. When I first left his father I would find myself doing the same thing. Only this time he was there helping distract me from the world outside my bedroom door and all I had to face.

Maybe they are all learned from me and I know they are there from my trauma. Or maybe I know enough about trauma. The reaction my body has to cope with it that I can recognize it in my son. Knowing all to well that the whole time he was in my belly and rolling around on the floor the trauma of his father and I arguing was seeping into his skin forever changing his wiring.

[scribe-of-hael]

She was a bird I was an arrow Both of us sure we were Sword and a sparrow

Still when we flew We never knew-

[space-blue]

If you lockpick Zevlor's chest...

:|

"A fine but well-used sword. It seemed to have once belonged to a holy order, but the indication of rank and patron deity at the hilt have recently been filed down."

[corvusalbus93]

Need to get this off my chest. A part of me had hoped the armour just looked like his as a nod to the fans, but nope; Hemlock called him Scorch. My boy in Legends:

I could go on, get out the novels... Anyway, TBB:

[thingspeoplesayintoontown]

[druidonity2]

Sketch of Anduin's trauma.

[iwritewhump]

"what happened to you?" + recapture + new clothes

day sixteen of whumpember

760 words

warnings: bashing someone's head in, kidnapping (technically)

a/n: this one is a little underbaked as far as my writing goes but i like the concept! if enough people remind me about it after september i might try to rewrite it eventually

~

Living Weapon resituates on the couch, tucking its legs underneath itself hoping to find a perfect position to fall asleep in. It lays its head on the armrest and watches the documentary.

Lights flash in the corner of its eye and its heart drops. The frosted glass around the doorframe lights up a few more times and Living Weapon stares hopelessly outside. It looks at Caretaker, the TV reflecting on her sleeping face.  It blinks and looks ahead, counting the flashing lights in Caretaker’s driveway. By some miracle the flashing light doesn’t wake her up and Living Weapon walks up to the door. 

It slides the bolt over and cracks the door open. The flashing lights stop and Living Weapon steps out onto the porch. The concrete has been warmed by the sun and it relishes in the moment, closing its eyes for just a second. The car honks and Living Weapon springs to life. 

It slides into the passenger seat and stares at Caretaker’s house. Slowly, it relaxes into the seat and looks at Handler. The lines on his face are more defined, softening him almost. Living Weapon bites the inside of its cheek until it tastes blood. It inhales sharply and looks at Caretaker’s front door. 

“Glad you came out, I didn’t want to break in.” Handler says, tapping irritably on the steering wheel. 

Its breath hitches and it looks at its hands. Almost whispering, it asks, “How did you find me?” 

“Oh please,” Handler scoffs. “I never lost you.” 

Living Weapon nods solemnly and takes a shuddering inhale. “So what now?” 

Handler huffs and reverses out of the driveway. He stares at the road and sighs, “Now you’ve hopefully found out that everything I do is to help you. Not to hurt you. Now we go home and fix whatever Caretaker did to you.”

Living Weapon picks at its cuticles as Handler turns and twists and travels back to the cabin in the forest that he called home. 

Blood beads out of Living Weapon’s nail bed by the time Handler parks the truck. He jumps out of the truck and motions for it to do the same. 

Its feet sink into the mud and when it pulls its foot out of the mud, its sock stays. Living Weapon jumps to the small mat outside the door and wipes its feet, doing its best to get all the mud off of its feet before walking inside behind Handler.

He whistles and throws a bundle of clothes at it, “Put these on.” They fall onto Living Weapon’s feet and Handler seethes. 

“What happened to you?” 

Quickly, Living Weapon plucks the clothes off the ground and smears the mud around, working it into the fabric. “I’m tired, I wasn’t expecting it. Nothing’s happened.” 

Handler chucks his shoe at it, “I think you’re slow. I think Caretaker coddled the killer instinct in you and now you can’t keep yourself alive. You rely on her.” 

Living Weapon spits and hurls the shoe back at Handler. “You’re wrong!” it stomps up to Handler and hovers a hand over his chest. “She made me stronger than you ever could.” 

It takes a deep breath and lowers its hand to its side. Handler exhales shakily and blinks a few times, forcing a laugh. 

“Then why did you come back with me? If you’re so strong?” 

Living Weapon grins, its teeth showing, “To do this.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, it charges Handler and shoves him up against the kitchen wall, hands around his neck. Handler gasps, a hand flying up to his throat and he tries to claw Living Weapon’s hands off of him as the other gropes behind him, hopelessly searching for something to help. 

Living Weapon pulls him away from the wall and slams him back, his head making a sickening cracking sound at impact. Handler’s mouth makes a strangled sound and his head falls forward, nose brushing Living Weapon’s arm. 

Living Weapon lets him go, his body falling forward onto the kitchen floor. Blood spills onto the tile and Living Weapon watches it spread. The blood reaches its feet and Living Weapon steps in the puddle of it, letting it get sticky underneath it. Slowly, it reaches into Handler’s pocket and pulls the keys to his truck out. 

It peels its feet up from the ground and walks out of the cabin. This time, it avoids the mud and climbs into the driver’s seat. 

The music blares through the speakers, deafening Living Weapon to its thoughts as it drives back home to Caretaker.

[ask-redsoldier-tf2]

*coughs and dies*

Soldier: MEDIC!!!! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND HEAL THIS PERSON!!! ⛑️

[balkanradfem]

I've been weeding the garden for the last 2 days and my hands look sooo nasty, I maybe should have been wearing gloves. Not only I managed to get dirt stuck so badly under a fingernail that my entire finger got inflamed and upset, but parts of my hands are now permanently black, cannot wash it off, and the skin around my nails is torn, inflamed and messed up, some of it is bleeding.

However I am very satisfied with my work, strawberries are free of weeds and flowering, some tomatoes are transplanted outside, I have space to plant the peas, potatoes have started coming out of the soil, my hands will just have to get over this and grow thicker skin hehehe.

[swagrum76]

Made some more artwork out of a Papyrus sprite. (just got rid of the eyes and nose hole thing)

[wr0wn]

Despite everything...

[bonetrousledbones]

ok i wasnt gonna post anymore tonight but i just went on an emotional journey ok so i recently went and found an old fic recommendation that a mutual recommended years ago and started reading it and was like This Feels Familiar In The Bad Way. I look at the ending and realize ah yes i have definitely read this before because that ending is what pissed me off enough to write my own long as hell fic in middle school btw that i have long since abandoned but oh wow isnt that something ! but oh the fic’s been orphaned now, but I could’ve sworn I’ve seen more recent fics from the author, and I mentioned them in my own abandoned fic so i’ll just look them up to see what they’re up to now! anyway its minecraft youtuber rpf

[elliwoods]

In such a weird spot right now, very much debating a reblog sideblog

I know tumblr is all about "reblogging is good for the ecosystem!" which, yes! Reblogging is such a help for art! But at the same time I am one of those people who doesnt follow people who reblog too much because I get stressed out easily when there is too much stuff on my dash to catch up with. Which leads to me missing out on some cool peoples art. And I KNOW I am not alone in this mindset

I am currently trying to keep a balance between 'reblogging enough to get attention on smaller art posts' and 'not posting enough to cause people to unfollow me' but ah, thats hard....

[uptheredslfc]

I fucking jumped wtf Alisson

[dorkylittleweirdo]

Nah bc if I fumbled Amelia I would go insane too. I understand him