#consequences of trauma

[furiousgoldfish]

Which ones of these arbitrary trauma-induced rules do you follow?

No spending money, ever. what if you need it later and your life depends on it.

Assume that all strangers are 3 seconds close to becoming hostile. fawn to keep them friendly.

No delegating tasks. no telling other people to do things you could potentially do yourself. what if they mess up.

Assume that everyone will consider you a burden if you do 1 single mistake that inconveniences them. do all that is possible to not make that mistake.

Do not admit when things are going wrong. wait until theres no other option but to ask for help, and even then consider not doing that.

Always act like you're okay. not doing so might make you seem 'not normal' and 'accused of being crazy and unstable'.

Do anything for friends, even if it sounds weird, dodgy, illegal. you want to prove that you're fun and easy going and helpful and useful and extremely cool with anything.

Never let it show if you're suspicious of someone. never say out loud that you think their intentions are bad. that might set them off.

If hurt, hide and isolate. Do not let anyone see you hurt.

Do not ask help for problems you feel are your own responsibility to solve. Even if you don't see yourself solving them successfully. If you can't do it, assume nobody can help you.

Help others to try and build positive relationships. Don't accept help so you don't end up relying on them for anything.

Do not start things that involve help or participation from other people. People are not reliable.

Assume that institutions, government, police, social services, and any kind of groups of people are all considering you a nuisance, and would attack you on sight, in every single situation. Never rely on them or assume they would do anything else.

No arguing, confronting, or standing up for yourself unless the situation is absolutely unsurvivable otherwise. Lay low until doing otherwise is seriously damaging your mental health and ability to live.

Give up on hopeful social encounters before they disappoint you. If you have to interact with people, assume the worst is about to happen.

No allowing yourself to idealize, or dream of positive future with people. It's a trap and your expectations need to be either extremely realistic or low.

Assume that fancy and expensive things don't exist for you. Despise them and get away from them.

No comparing yourself and your life to how other people live. It causes depression and despair. Other people's lives and standards of living are none of your business.

Do not showcase any skill or brag about any achievement. Jealous people can destroy you for satisfaction.

Assume people think the worst of you and don't consider changing their mind. Just try to keep out of their way.

Do not display anger. You don't want to be called insane or get arrested. You don't know what people could potentially blame you for if you're openly angry. But other angry people are dangerous and you need to get away from them.

If you follow more than half of these, you have a trauma-induced problem. These are not normal or healthy. These are not developed in a healthy environment. These are extremely self-protective, isolating, ruled by terror of the world and the people living in it. If you follow these, something bad has been done to you.

[stevesbipanic]

Eddie didn't know what had happened.

He'd been fine after the Upside Down. Sure, a handlful of nightmares, a torso of scars and he didn't totally trust flickering lights anymore but on the whole he'd been fine. He thought he would handle almost dying worse but he was ok.

He had his old friends and now new friends beside him, his uncle was ok, hell he even graduated. The town still didn't fully trust him but they didn't really do that before the murder suspicions so he just brushed that off. If anything the murder charges had been good for his band, plenty of metalheads thought it was cool even if he didn't actually kill anyone.

Now graduated Eddie had managed to get a job at the local mechanic shop that didn't care about the charges since they'd been cleared. All those summers helping his uncle fix his van had paid off, Eddie didn't need to deal to support him and Wayne anymore.

Eddie even had a boyfriend now. Sweet, caring, perfect Steve Harrington not only turned out to like men but liked him. Steve helped him through his wound recovery and the two had gone from friends to lovers in the months that followed. Eddie had never felt as happy as he did with Steve.

It didn't matter though. None of it mattered.

When Eddie woke up July 22nd 1986, four months after everything had happened, none of it mattered. It didn't matter that his sides were healed, or that he graduated or that he had a job or that his band was doing well. It didn't matter that out in the kitchen he could hear is boyfriend making them coffee and breakfast. It didn't matter that he'd survived it all.

It didn't matter since Eddie didn't want to get out of bed. Didn't want to move, didn't want to get up to see his boyfriend, didn't want to go to work later or see the kids that night. Eddie barely wanted to breathe.

Four months later all that trauma that he thought hadn't affected him much, had caught up to him.

Eddie didn't know how long he had stared at his bedroom ceiling before Steve had come in carrying two coffees.

"Hey Eds, you're up, why didn't you come out?"

Eddie didn't even crack a joke that he had already come out. Eddie didn't say anything at all.

"Eds? You ok? Are you sick?"

Eddie mustered up all the energy he had to croak out, "I don't know, Steve."

That concerned Steve, Eddie didn't even use a petname, Steve couldn't even think of the last time he hadn't been called Stevie, or sweetheart or baby.

"I made breakfast, want any?" Steve said putting the coffee down and running his hand through Eddie's hair checking for a fever.

Eddie shook his head softly. "Want me to call work for you?" Eddie nodded slightly.

Steve left the room again coming back after some amount of time Eddie didn't know, he just felt heavy, wanting to sick into the mattress. When Steve came back he crawled back into bed beside Eddie, wrapping him arms around him.

The two boys just laid there together, Eddie didn't feel different but the warmth from Steve was at least a small comfort. Eventually he felt like he could talk.

"I don't know what's wrong, Stevie."

Steve sighed, running his hands through Eddie's hair, looking at him sadly. "I think I might." Eddie looked at him expectantly.

"After my first time with all this, I just went right back to normal, thought I was fine, and I was I guess I hadn't seen much and I was alive. Then the next time happened and I lost Nancy and I saw a lot more. I bounced back after that one too, had the kids to focus on, had school to finish. But after that third time, didn't even take a full month after for it to happen. Robin found me in my room, very dehydrated after not coming to work for the second day in a row. She helped me out a lot and after I came back to myself she practically dragged me to a doctor. Double whammy, PTSD and depression. Those pills I take everyone morning? That's what those are for. You don't always get symptoms right after something happens, for all I know the PTSD is from that first night in '83 but doesn't matter it happened and I think it might be what you have too."

Eddie had been quiet during Steve's story, watching him carefully. "So what do we do?"

Steve leant forward, kissing Eddie's forehead softly, "You let me look after you til you're back to yourself, then we go see the doctor and go from there." Eddie nodded and Steve got up again.

"Stevie?" Steve stopped and turned, "I love you."

Steve smiled, "Love you too Eds."

And maybe just that little fact would get Eddie through this.

[undertheredhood]

bruce 'tired single dad' wayne: *lecturing jason once again on something he did during a fight*

jason 'theatre kid extraodinare'' todd who immediately starts fake crying on the spot: do you just not love me anymore?

[oonalovesastarionssimpleplan]

Ascended Astarion has his own way of perpetuating the rules - as he knows it -by performing.

*But Astarion is not like Cazador, he will not continue the cycle of abuse*

[runeaxx]

I think they'd be best friends

[brucewaynehater101]

I'm bad at math, but is Bruce theoretically 38 years old when he goes into the time stream?

Hear me out (and canon likes to fluncate their ages, so this is my best guess without trying to account for birthdays):

Bruce becomes the legal guardian of 9 year old Dick when he's 23. That's a 14 year difference.

Jason becomes Robin when Dick leaves at 18. Jason is 13. That's a five year difference.

Jason dies at 15, and Tim becomes Robin at 13. That's a two year difference.

The age difference between Tim and Bruce would thus be 21 years.

Tim becomes Red Robin to find Bruce at 17.

That means that Bruce had to be 38, right? Why was I imagining him closer to 50?

Adopting so many kids must have aged him

[mokulule]

Almanac - Chapter 1

Fandom: DP x DC Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Masterpost Summary: Summoning extradimensional beings was never without a cost. Jason didn’t consider himself particularly knowledgeable when it came to magic, but that he knew. Desperate situations however called for desperate measures and the Justice League was desperate with Trigon suddenly allied to ghosts of all things. Summoning the Ghost King in that context even seemed like a sensible choice.

For better or worse John Constantine was the expert on those kinds of deals.

At least when his information wasn’t out of date.

Chapter 1 - September 23rd Fall Equinox

The summoning circle blazed in tall green flames. John grit his teeth against the terrible heat. Sweat ran down his brow, but he barely even dared blink. Across from him Zatanna was equally affected. This was like no summoning he’d ever done before. Normally the circle and the ingredients in a summoning ritual would do most of the work, that was the whole point. But this, John thought, as he doubled down on his hold on the magic, this was like riding a dragon. It was almost like the Ghost King really didn’t want to be summoned.

What else could cause this?

But they couldn’t give up, the fate of the world depended on it. Zatanna was not looking good, John didn’t suppose he himself was looking chipper either right now, but he had done things to increase his magic power Zatanna never had, because she was too good, and she was flagging. John growled, he’d be dammed a hundred more times if he lost her to this ritual.

Come on you bloody bastard!

A green rip opened in the middle of the circle with a terrible screeching sound. There was yelling and ears being covered behind him by the Justice League, but John couldn’t focus on that, it was not over. They were nearly there. A flickering dark shadowy form was getting sucked upwards through the rip. Wind rushed around the room, throwing papers and small objects around the room; The bucket of stag blood they’d used for the circle splattered onto Green Lantern judging by the sound of disgust. As long and tiresome as the ritual had been as suddenly it was over. Like an elastic band finally snapping, the shadow was pulled all the way through, the rip closed and the flames died.

“ ̵̨̜̩̜̖͈̺͈͎̜̩̻̖͔̗̺̳̘͈̳̖̩͂̄̏̇͂̂̃͒͌̊̓́̿̽̽̀̚͜ ̶̧̡̢̜̯̘͔̺̻̖͚͚͍̪̼͙̲̭͌͛̈́̈́̆̀͝N̵̢̢̧͓̩̱̮̰̪̘͙̹͍̪̤̼̺̑̀̓̔̔̍̂̍͛̈̈́͋͛͆̆͌̌̃̀̄̕Ơ̵̡̱͕̬͕͎̞̞̟͔͇̽̀́̇̐̂͂́̈́̈́̾͜͠ͅ ̷̢͖̯̰̙̥̤͔̹̜̦̙͙̲̪̲̯̗̙̦͓̜̓̋̂͋͘̚͝ ̶̭̺̣̻͖͗̍̔͂ ̶̡̰̞̹͇͓̫̜͖͛́̀̒̃͆̀͑́̅̂͌̿͐̚͝͝.”

The word rung in the sudden silence like a bell, cracked like glaciers, skittered across their mortal senses like small needles. John fell to his knees clutching his chest. It was so cold it was hard to breathe. Teeth chattering he forced himself to look up. The shadow coalesced into something with too long limbs, too many joints, claws, teeth. It had gained a blazing white flame and underneath there were two pools of green.

It observed them with an intensity like a thousand eyes on them, then it drew in on itself, getting smaller until it was more person shaped and the cold disappeared.

John gasped in relief. He wasn’t the only one. He looked to Zatanna, she met his eyes with a pale and tense nod. She was alright.

“Aaaaargh!” The frustrated scream had them quickly focused back on the circle. The green pools, now more eye shaped glared back at them all.

“The fucking Justice League of course, who else would summon me to save the world?” The shadow for lack of better words paced back and forth in the air, then spun on John. “And you John Constantine should know better.”

There was a pool of dread in his stomach and every single backup plan vanished from his mind as those toxic green eyes held him trapped. “If you have a problem that calls for the assistance of a ghost, why do you not ask a ghost you know? Why in the Realms would you summon the Ghost King? Of all the bullheaded…” The angry words devolved into an angry growly mutter too low for anyone to hear the words, but it was a sound that grated in their bones. And the Ghost King resumed their pacing.

“Deadman is-“

“I’m talking about Phantom,” the king snapped.

“Phantom?” John repeated baffled, meeting the equally baffled eyes of Zatanna. The friendly spirit from small Amity Park? “No offense, your Majesty, but Phantom is small fry compared to this.”

“Full offense,” The King growled. “I am Phantom.”

With a bright flash, suddenly there was Phantom. The surprisingly human looking ghost, who would have fit in perfectly amongst the Justice League standing outside the circle with his white highlighted tight black suit and the logo on his chest. Right now his usually friendly face was drawn into a glare.

It was then, when it clicked with a small delay in his brain that Phantom was the Ghost King, that John Constantine realized how much he’d fucked up.

Oo o oO

Danny was livid. He had done his very best to resist this summoning, but of course summonings weren’t meant to be resisted and with John Constantine and Zatanna Zatara two of the Justice League Dark’s most powerful magic users being the ones reeling him in like a fucking fish, it was no wonder he hadn’t succeeded. This was a disaster. Why did they put him in this situation?

“We thought you were a city spirit…” Constantine trailed off helplessly.

And that had Danny gaping. They thought… how? why? He was confused, but most of all-

“Excuse me, did I introduce myself as Amity? No, I did not.”

Of all the stupid things to think. City spirits were some of the proudest ghosts around, to even think a city spirit would introduce themselves by anything other than their name was beyond moronic. And last he checked his hometown wasn’t called freaking Phantomville.

“We thought, since you never left the city-“ Zatanna cut herself off when Danny swiveled his glare on her.

“It. Is. My. Haunt,” Danny hissed enunciating each word clearly, the lights in the room flickered. “Did you not at all think it was weird that a city spirit-“ he made quotation marks around the words- “was visible to regular people?”

“We figured it was because of all the death magic in the air,” fucking Constantine said and Danny keened in despair. It was a sound just at the edge of human hearing, and most of them really couldn’t hear anything of it aside from a very high pitched tone that had the entire group flinching. Superman though, not only flinched but also took a step back covering his mouth, he looked sick.

“You could have asked, like normal people. What did I do to give you the impression you couldn’t just ask?” He dug his hands into his hair and tugged, doubled over and took a deep calming breath.

“Okay,” he forced his voice chipper, “so we’ve established you’re morons and now you’re all going to pay the price.”

There was a moment of silence as they all took that in and Danny’s eyes ran over their faces: Constantine, Zatanna, the big seven of the original Justice League and would you look at that Batman brought a bunch of his brood along, one of which was an actual child. Danny whimpered.

“I don’t really understand the problem,” the Flash stepped up to the circle in, well, a flash. “If you can help us then what does it matter that we summoned you instead of going to you?”

“It matters,” Danny said rubbing the bridge of his nose, “because you’ve gone and made it official. You didn’t ask small time ghost hero Phantom for help saving the world, you went and summoned the High King of the Infinite Realms.” He waved a hand allowing the green flaming crown to manifest over his head and the ring to appear on his right hand, the long starry night cape settled over his shoulders with a familiar weight like freshly fallen snow.

“The fact that I am one and the same is irrelevant. Intent is the most important thing in magic.”

“So we can just unsummon you?” The Flash suggested, looking from Danny to Constantine and Zatanna who both looked away.

Danny chuckled humorlessly. He touched a hand to his chest pushing energy into the chains binding him, so they could all see the chains going from him to each and everyone of them.

“We are already bound in a pre-contract, that’s what a summoning is.”

Oo o oO

Jason looked down at the Lazarus green glowing chain, going from his chest to the Ghost King. From each of his brothers including the brat’s - the brat, who actually looked scared. No matter, his maturity and upbringing he was still just a kid. Anger flared in his chest, but before he could do anything Bruce stepped forward.

“John, what is the meaning of this,” he demanded. To the League, that was just the gruff Batman voice. To Jason and the birds, the undertone of fear was obvious. Nothing set the old man off like a threat to his birds. Jason would know, he’d taken advantage of that before.

Constantine grimaced, “well, you see-“

But the Ghost King interrupted him. “No, let me explain. John Constantine is the greatest con man that ever lived. He could sell sand in the Sahara. He’s swindled demons and gods alike. He’s somehow managed to sell his soul like fifty fucking times, making the day of his eventual death into a jurisdictional nightmare of interdimensional proportions.”

He paused to take another deep breath - something Jason noticed with bemusement was a bit strange for a ghost.

“Ol’ Johnny here probably expected Pariah Dark, the previous Ghost King, the kind of mad hat conquerer who’s been locked up for millennia for unspeakable crimes against the Realms - just the kind of proud, single minded sod that’s ripe for John’s kind of swindling. Whose only spells of freedom came from summonings like this, which were thankfully rare, ‘cause very few people are stupid enough to summon the Ghost King.”

“But me-” he touched his chest, “there’s a reason I’m not locked in a sarcophagus. For one I don’t deal in souls or eternal damnation, secondly even if I did I wouldn’t touch that soul of yours with a ten feet pole.”

“Congratulations, Jackass, you managed to summon the actually ruling Monarch of the World In Between Worlds at full power and there’s absolutely nothing you can offer me. I deal in equivalent exchange. Nothing matters to you as much as the world, except your own skin and your ownership of that is questionable at best. That leaves your… friends? Or coworkers? Is that what they are? to pay.”

And with that the King turned to them all, green eyes both angry and resigned.

“Better start thinking about what things you’re willing to give up, I’ll be friendly and let your offerings stack, the world is heavy enough as it is.”

An unsettled murmur rustled through the assembled heroes. It was one thing to sacrifice in the heat of battle, but this was something none of them had prepared for. They had all expected Constantine to handle things, they all were just present for safety’s sake. It was certainly why Jason was there or he wouldn’t have been in same room as the heroes.

Ever since his revival he’d had somewhat of a magic resistance and the All Blades were the best bet if something went south. That had been the idea at least, but this had gone south in the entirely different direction. And, Jason suspected, the All Blades probably wouldn’t even work on the king. The impression Jason got from him wasn’t evil at all; he had purposefully directed their thoughts in the direction of physical possessions.

With the room stalled in uncertainty, Jason felt anger rising. They were wasting time when the solution was obvious. He’d said he didn’t deal in souls or eternal damnation that still left a wide range of interpretation to Jason’s thinking.

“Oi, Spooky!” He stepped forward tilting his head up in challenge, “You can have me, - a willing sacrifice gotta be worth a good deal.”

There were gasps all around him but he didn’t look just kept eye contact with those glowing Lazarus eyes as they turned to him in consideration.

The was a sudden cacophony of protest from his brothers, hands grabbing onto him pulling him back but he stood his ground.

“J-Hood, back down right now!” That was Bruce’s voice and for a moment there, it was almost like he actually cared, but then he was just ordering him about like usual. Then Dick was in front of him and even he couldn’t ignore that.

“Jay, no,” he hissed lowly horrified, “what’s the matter with you?”

The was a small tug in Jason’s chest at that.

“He said he didn’t deal in souls,” Tim pointed out urgently.

“Todd,” was everything Damian said, but there was a vulnerability there that was rarely in the little brat’s voice.

Jason couldn’t help but smile. It was heartening that they cared at least a little. He set a hand down on Damian’s head and ruffled his hair roughly. “Take care of my books, brat.”

“NO,” That was Dick, and he held on tighter, Jason couldn’t shrug him off, but as it turned out he didn’t have to.

There was a tug on the chain in his chest and he slipped right through his brothers and flew right up to the king inside the circle until he hovered level with the Lazarus green eyes.

The was a cacophony of protest but it was somehow muted like background noise from here inside the circle and yet the crackling fire of the crown was loud in his ears. The inhuman Lazarus eyes flickered from Jason then behind him and then back again.

“You offer your life to the High Ghost King as a sacrifice?”

Jason shuddered, felt fear grip him at the wording, because that was what it meant. Truthfully he didn’t want to die, but he’d been there and he’d done that, and if he was to die again, at least those eyes held no cruelty. He was the obvious choice. He clenched his jaw and steeled his resolve, the world would do fine without him.

“I do.” There was a momentary frown like regret on the king’s face before he looked to the wider room.

“Then with the consequences of that we have a deal, and I, High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms, will save the world.” The chains leading to everyone but Jason burst into showers of tiny green stars.

“Come.” A white gloved hand was reached out to him, deceptively human if it wasn’t for the glow. Jason took the hand and next he knew the world turned into a green swirl.

The world solidified suddenly like a punch to the gut and Jason fell to his knees in loose sand. He gagged, but nothing came up from his empty stomach. Slowly he looked up, they were in the desert. In the distance was the nightmarish portal to the Dark Dimension Trigon’s forces were coming through. If only Raven hadn’t been hurt so early in the fight, but Trigon was working with someone else, someone Constantine had claimed was a powerful ghost and the combined forces were not something they had been prepared for. Even so there were heroes in the distance trying to hold back the hordes.

“What are we doing here?” He looked up to the King who was floating just half a foot off the ground and he was suddenly aware of the fact that he was kneeling.

“Figured the least I could do is show you that I uphold my end of the bargain. Stay here, this distance should be safe.”

With that the Ghost King flew off.

Jason had half a mind to try escaping, but as the first punch was thrown in the distance the futility settled in his gut. At least he could enjoy the show.

Oo o oO

“Daniel,” Vlad greeted him in his typical self satisfied drawl, “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Danny’s lips split in a grin. He wouldn’t be so satisfied in a moment. He flashed forward throwing a punch that sent Vlad into a crater in the ground. He looked down at the man who at one point had been his nemesis. Now he just looked sad and confused.

“I think you’ll find you miscalculated this time, Plasmius.”

Finally Vlad actually seemed to register that Danny was wearing the full regalia and what that meant. His face paled to white.

“No, your Majesty, please, have mercy,” he begged, folding instantly - pitiful.

Danny snarled, fangs and limbs growing and growing with sickening cracks, like the frozen surface of a lake when you’ve stepped too far. He was the darkness of space itself, too many mouths split into white fanged grins.

“A line was crossed today.” His words reverberated across the field halting all the combatants in place as terror gripped them. “You have been warned time and time again. Now a price has been paid, a deal has been made and you shall reap what you have sown.”

With that he swept across the battlefield dark and all encompassing leaving only the heroes standing cold and shaken as he pushed Trigon’s army and Vlad and his panicking ghost minions back into the Dark Dimension.

The portal closed behind him when he willed it.

The large horned guy in the armor who was shouting in outrage had to be Trigon. The Ghost King was bound in contract to save the world from this threat. He could technically stop now, the threat was ended they had no portal and those were not simple to make, but was the world really saved when Trigon still stood and his army was still whole?

No, the Ghost King did not think so.

It had been a very stressful morning. He would very much enjoy taking it out on these fools.

Oo o oO

It didn’t take long before the Ghost King reappeared, thankfully looking more human, though there was still a wild glint in his eyes as if the beast hadn’t quite been sated.

“It’s done then.” Jason said with resignation. The green eyes blinked down at him slowly and again a white gloved hand was offered as if Jason had any real choice in the matter. Annoyance that he wouldn’t just get things over with rose up and Jason grabbed the hand with more aggression than was maybe wise.

All he got in return was a bemused look, as if he was less threatening than a kitten. Which arguably, compared to the eldritch monarch of the death, he probably was.

The world turned into a green swirl again. When the world solidified he found that traveling this way didn’t get easier a second time. He was down on his hands and knees in plush red carpet, his stomach turned nauseously. Shit it felt like he really would puke this time.

Suddenly a cool hand touched his forehead, somehow easing enough of the nausea that he could look up.

The king was kneeling in front of him, a worried look on his face. And that had anger rising in Jason’s chest, because how dare he.

“Why don’t you just get it over already?”

Black eyebrows rose.

“Get it over with?” He had the audacity to ask.

“Just kill me already, stop playing with me.”

Any leftover amusement went out of the Ghost King’s face at that.

“Why would I kill you?” He asked flatly.

“Because I gave you my life? What else would it mean!"

"Your life belonging to me, does not mean I have to kill you, in fact that would be rather stupid of me.”

“What difference does it make? Aren’t you the king of the dead!”

The King shrugged. “Sure, but I don’t own my subjects. Death is the one thing that will free you from me.”

Jason paled, he hadn’t considered this. The Ghost King had said he didn’t deal in souls or eternal damnation, but a human life wasn’t eternal - hadn’t he himself thought there was a lot of leeway in those statements?

“No no no, I’m gonna stop you there, you look like I ate your favorite pair of slippers.”

Jason blinked, startled out of his spiraling train of thought by the sheer absurdity.

“Is that something you have experience with?”

“You’ll never know.” The king grinned back at him teeth definitely sharp enough to rip slippers to pieces. His features turned serious. “Now you listen closely. You did not offer your mind-“ he poked Jason’s forehead firmly- “your body, your soul or your service-“ he underscored each of the last three words with a poke to Jason’s chest.

He got up to his feet.

“All I own in capacity of King is your life. And so your life will be lived here with me, that is all. Wording is very important in magic.” With those words he strode down the hall, cape flaring out behind him.

Jason was left on the floor, mind reeling.

“You changed the wording,” Jason realized, because he had offered himself - all of him being implied. But the Ghost King had changed the wording when they made the deal. He jumped to his feet to catch up. It’s wasn’t hard, the Ghost King was actually rather short when he deigned to touch the ground.

“You changed the wording,” Jason repeated firmly, “you-“

“I already told you I’m not into the soul trade. Nor do I want any slaves, there’s enough of that mess leftover from the previous king.”

He grimaced at that.

He wouldn’t kill him. He’d changed the wording, so Jason’s will was his own. He wasn’t a servant or slave, or a soldier or anything. “So what then?”

“What then?” The king stopped and looked back at Jason bewildered.

“You own my life and you have no plan or purpose for me, what am I gonna do?”

His eyebrows drew down in a frown but Jason was not done. Indignation burned hot in his chest.

“If you are not going to kill me or have any use for me, why even bring me here? You could own my life just as easily in Gotham as you can here!”

There was a rumble, it sounded like it was in the distance but somehow Jason knew it was from the ghost king in front of him. His legs suddenly felt unsteady.

“You are here,” the King growled, “because idiots decided to summon me and you and your family are paying the toll for saving the world.”

The anger turned to ice in his chest. “My family, what do you mean?”

“I mean, Jason Todd, that you mean the world to them and if it wasn’t for that your sacrifice wouldn’t have been enough, you think too little of yourself for that.”

What? No! That couldn’t be right?

“You’re lying,” he whispered. It couldn’t be true. Jason was the one paying the price, not his family. It couldn’t be.

The Ghost King snarled, morphing into sharp shadows and glowing eyes.

“You dare,” his voice boomed from all around Jason and he clapped his hands over his ears.

“I have stretched-” he seemed to grow longer and longer into spindlier shadows, chittering and cracking, “stretched, as far as I can on this deal and you call me a liar!”

The last word rumbled through Jason’s bones like a bulldozer and he fell to his knees. Nothing existed for Jason in that moment but the pain and the voice- he had nothing left to do anything with, he could neither protest or apologize. Only feel and hear despite plugging his ears.

“You summoned me! I did not ask to be cast as a villain in your Saturday morning cartoon!”

The temperature plummeted and there was something like a mournful wail in the distance, then a long spindly arm opened a door in the wall. Jason could have sworn it wasn’t there a moment ago, but honestly up could be down right now and he wouldn’t know. His teeth clattered and he desperately wanted to wrap his arms around his body, but dared not move them from his ears.

“Your room,” the King spat. The tapestries on the wall melted slowly together with his shadows.

“You may move around the castle, but don’t go into the west wing, those are my rooms, and don’t go into the dungeons - for your own sake.” He disappeared in a short flash of light.

Jason’s ears popped as pressure and temperature returned to normal and he gasped as if he hadn’t breathed for several minutes. Maybe he hadn’t. He couldn’t remember.

His mind was reeling, unable to comprehend, to process, what had happened. Words, he didn’t know them, but the King’s voice felt engraved onto his bones.

Beyond the doorway was a bed. A bed, he turned the concept around in his head as if it was a strange new thing, despite that he knew he should know the concept.

Slowly he picked himself up. With every staggered step, he felt more and more worried he would just melt into the carpet, but finally he fell down on top of soft covers.

Bed good.

-

Next

We are not talking about the fact that this is another wip... >.> I wanted to do something for Trauma Tuesday, but in the end I'm too tired, and then Clock suggested it would be Trauma Lite Tuesday, so that's what we're going for XD I don't tag people, if you want to follow the story please subscribe to the handy masterlist/subscription post

[dead-pidoves-dirt-takes]

I’m literally begging y’all not to disclose your trauma in order to justify and validate your tastes in fiction.

The people who are or you fear are going to get on your case about your fantasies, taste in fiction or how you identify? Do not give a shit about you. Or the trauma you have faced. They don’t give a shit about other trauma survivors either, and they don’t care about how callous and shitty they seem. All they care is about controlling and policing people they think they might have a sliver of power over.

You can block or clown or do whatever you want. (I recommend blocking, don’t feed the trolls) But please for the love of god do not tell random strangers on the internet who have absolutely no business knowing you’re traumatized and have X Y and Z mental illnesses from it.

Don’t reveal yourself as vulnerable, don’t paint that target on your back, and don’t give people access to possible triggers that may hurt you.

[anachronic-cobra]

How many death threats do you think I'd get if I wrote a queer book where the Devil falls in love with Adam from the Garden of Eden when something causes him to Fall from Heaven? And they both have to unlearn their religious trauma? And I retcon the existence of god because I think that's a more interesting take on the concepts of heaven and hell?

[turrondeluxe]

Have you watched SAINW yet? If so, what'd ya think?

i enjoyed it quite a bit

[furiousgoldfish]

Without the abuse, I wouldn't have been this scared in every human interaction. I wouldn't feel like my life depends on saying the right thing and finding my way out of this situation safely. I wouldn't be this timid, this cagey, reluctant, imagining every worst scenario that can come out of a social situation. I wouldn't have images of torture in my mind when attempting to say no. I wouldn't find it this hard to refuse being useful to others when it violates my freedom.

I would be able to speak my mind. I'd be able to be honest in my own way, instead of finding reasons and reasons why I have to be as pleasant and non-demanding as possible. I wouldn't be afraid to ask for information when I want it. I wouldn't be scared to check what my options are.

Abuse forces me to walk the thinnest line of being convenient and nothing else. I don't get to have a personality, there's only fear. I'm different when I'm alone, I'm not afraid, I know what I want. But if you put another human being next to me, all of my convictions are overwritten by survival instinct to appease and escape.

[blueskittlesart]

do you have any thoughts on zelda not staying as a dragon? me personally I like it and am very cool with it mostly because I think zelda should get to be happy forever (and because I'm smart enough to know she changed back because of recall and not some ambiguous power of love lmao) but a lot of people seem to dislike that it made the draconification inconsequential?

i think there's like. some valid concerns surrounding inconsequentiality/"curing" the physical problems characters have as a way of giving them a "happy ending" but I think those concerns don't necessarily apply to totk in the way people seem to be applying them, especially irt zelda's draconification and link's arm.

most of the time when the criticism of this "magic cure" trope is applied to media, it's because the trope is used as a cure-all to erase a character's suffering or trauma and make them "normal" again, and often ignores the character development or themes of the story in favor of giving the character a happy ending. I don't think that applies to totk, though, because the "curing" link and zelda experience is both within the realm of possibility given the worldbuilding present in the game (recall could easily have done it, as you mentioned) AND thematically consistent with the rest of the game. One of if not the most important central themes of totk is the idea of failure and second chances. we see a hyrule that has been given a second chance after link's initial failure with the calamity brought it to the brink of destruction. we see characters who were deeply unhappy and entrenched in the shame of their precalamity mistakes like purah and zelda become active, beloved members of their communities. we see the people of lurelin village take back and rebuild their destroyed home. we watch this kingdom and its people make an unprecedented comeback after a century of struggle and ruin.

Similarly, totk's gameplay is LINK's second chance, his comeback from the initial mistake of losing zelda, of specifically being unable to reach her with his injured hand when they fell. The consequences of that--the master sword's corruption, the loss of his arm, and zelda's draconification, are all supposed to SEEM irreversible, because that's how LINK initially sees them. he believes that he doomed both himself and zelda all because of that SINGLE moment in which he wasn't enough, a viewpoint which is obviously left over from the pressure he experienced to perform to an impossible standard of perfection pre-calamity. The story of totk is about deconstructing that belief and proving it wrong. the mistake he made caused harm, but it's never too late to repair things. he can fix the regional phenomena ganondorf causes and rebuild those communities. he can revitalize the master sword. he can GET ZELDA BACK, with his own arm, uninjured and able to reach her this time. no matter how impossible those things may initially seem, no matter the perceived finality of his mistakes and their consequences, there is always hope. there is always a second chance. no one person's single mistake can doom an entire kingdom for eternity. the fate of hyrule was NEVER resting on link's shoulders alone. he was never their final hope. there was always going to be an after. the whole POINT of the draconification and the loss of link's arm is that they AREN'T final. they ARE inconsequential, because they were born of one mistake and ONE MISTAKE IS NOT THE END ALL.

[ohrightgaypeople]

di- did Momo took the alcohol to NUMB TO UPCOMING PAIN????

IS THIS FOR REAL??????

th- that's- there's so many fucked up things with this????? I don't even KNOW where to begin!!?!???!!

the fact that his first association with "compensate/repay" is almost immediately always physical punishment

the fact that he has enough knowledge on how to numb physical pain and is able to do it on the drop of a hat

honestly, this boy needs much more than just love and therapy at this point (T-T)

[generalsmemories]

every time i see someone shit on the xianzhou story quest on twitter i die a little bit inside.

[naffeclipse]

I SAW those tags just now!! do you have a time loop au? where is the fic link??? this is so exciting!!

It's not officially a fic yet, just an au idea for now, but it's a lot of shenanigans and a very reckless Y/N who's stuck in a time loop. They're going crazy reliving every day over and over until they decide to go into the pizzaplex during one of the numerous repeating 24 hours and meet the DCA. Then again the next (same) day, and hey, wait, did that robot just remember your name? That's impossible. It's really, truly impossible, but the DCA does remember you.

Suddenly you're clinging to them like the last island in a sea of insanity and the DCA is desperately trying to help you figure out what's going on and how to stop the day from restarting. Also, maybe, they're not 100% okay themselves.

You find yourself on one of the repeating days being hunted and choked to death by Moon but you wake up the next morning so it's fine, kind of, you're not terrified, not completely. You have to find out what's making Moon and Sun act like that and free yourselves from the time loop shenanigans together.

[nat-20s]

Something something about the parallelism of the first place The Doctor properly takes Rose in the TARDIS is to the end of the Earth, and the first place The Doctor properly takes Donna in the TARDIS is the very beginning of the Earth. I don't have anything smart to say about it I just think it's Neat.